say, Aunt Miriam, what on earth do you think can have really happened?'
'I have no idea. It sounds as though somebody was shooting rabbits. I'm not at all surprised. I've often thought it most dangerous to allow it on the common.'
The distance between Fox Cottage and Fox House was very short, and they had already reached their goal. The house was set back from the lane, from which it was separated by a low hedge. It had no carriage sweep, a separate gate and straight gravel drive having been made beside the garden to enable Mr Warrenby to garage his car in a modern building erected a little to the rear of the house. Charles drew up outside the wicket-gate giving access to a footpath leading to the front-door, and switched off his engine. In another minute he and Miss Patterdale had entered the garden, and were bending over the lifeless form of Sampson Warrenby, slumped on a wooden seat set under an oak-tree, and at right angles to the lane.
Warrenby, a short, plump man, dressed in sponge-bag trousers, an alpaca coat, and morocco-leather slippers, was sitting with his his head fallen forward, and one hand hanging limply over the arm of the seat.
Charles straightened himself after one look, and said, rather jerkily: 'Who was his doctor?'
'Dr Warcop, but it's no use, Charles.'
'No, I know, but probably we ought to send for him. I'm not familiar with the correct procedure on occasions like this, but I'm pretty sure there ought to be a doctor here as soon as possible. Do you know which room the telephone's in?'
'In the study. That one, on the right of the front-door.'
He strode away across the lawn to the house. It was built of mellow brick, in the form of an E, and the principal rooms faced across the garden to the lane, and the rising ground of the common beyond it. The long windows on the ground-floor stood open, and Charles stepped through one of these into Sampson Warrenby's study. The telephone stood on the knee-hole desk, which also bore a litter of papers and documents. Charles picked it up, and dialled Dr Warcop's number.
When he rejoined Miss Patterdale, a few minutes later, that redoubtable lady was staring fixedly at a bed of snapdragons. 'Well? Find Dr Warcop in? she said.
'Yes. Surgery-hour. He's coming at once. Also the police, from Bellingham.'
Miss Patterdale cleared her throat, and said in a fierce voice: 'Well, Charles, there's nothing you or I can do for the poor man. He's dead, and that's all there is to it.'
'He's dead all right,' said Charles grimly. 'But if you imagine that's all there's going to be to it, Aunt Miriam, you'd better think again!'
4.
MlSS PATTERDALE let her monocle fall, and, picking it up as it swing on the end of its thin cord, began to polish it vigorously. 'You don't think it can have been an accident, Charles?'
'How could it have been?'
She glanced rather vaguely round. 'Don't understand balistics myself. People do go out with guns, though, after rabbits.'
'But they don't aim at rabbits in private gardens,' said Charles. 'What's more, rabbits aren't usually seen in the air!'
She looked fleetingly at the still figure on the seat. 'He was sitting down,' she pointed out, but without conviction.
'Talk sense, Aunt Miriam!' Charles begged her. 'Any fool could see he's been murdered! You don't even have to have a giant intellect to realize where the murderer must have been standing.' He nodded towards the rising commonland beyond the lane, where the gorse-bushes blazed deep yellow in the late sunshine. 'Bet you anything he was lying up in those bushes! The only bit of bad luck he had was Mavis being in the lane at the time -- and even that wasn't really bad luck, because she was too dumb to do him any harm.'
'Can't be surprised the girl was too much shocked to think of looking for him' said Miss Patterdale fairmindedly. 'It isn't the sort of thing anyone would expect to happen! I suppose it wouldn't be any use going to search those bushes?'
He could not
'I have no idea. It sounds as though somebody was shooting rabbits. I'm not at all surprised. I've often thought it most dangerous to allow it on the common.'
The distance between Fox Cottage and Fox House was very short, and they had already reached their goal. The house was set back from the lane, from which it was separated by a low hedge. It had no carriage sweep, a separate gate and straight gravel drive having been made beside the garden to enable Mr Warrenby to garage his car in a modern building erected a little to the rear of the house. Charles drew up outside the wicket-gate giving access to a footpath leading to the front-door, and switched off his engine. In another minute he and Miss Patterdale had entered the garden, and were bending over the lifeless form of Sampson Warrenby, slumped on a wooden seat set under an oak-tree, and at right angles to the lane.
Warrenby, a short, plump man, dressed in sponge-bag trousers, an alpaca coat, and morocco-leather slippers, was sitting with his his head fallen forward, and one hand hanging limply over the arm of the seat.
Charles straightened himself after one look, and said, rather jerkily: 'Who was his doctor?'
'Dr Warcop, but it's no use, Charles.'
'No, I know, but probably we ought to send for him. I'm not familiar with the correct procedure on occasions like this, but I'm pretty sure there ought to be a doctor here as soon as possible. Do you know which room the telephone's in?'
'In the study. That one, on the right of the front-door.'
He strode away across the lawn to the house. It was built of mellow brick, in the form of an E, and the principal rooms faced across the garden to the lane, and the rising ground of the common beyond it. The long windows on the ground-floor stood open, and Charles stepped through one of these into Sampson Warrenby's study. The telephone stood on the knee-hole desk, which also bore a litter of papers and documents. Charles picked it up, and dialled Dr Warcop's number.
When he rejoined Miss Patterdale, a few minutes later, that redoubtable lady was staring fixedly at a bed of snapdragons. 'Well? Find Dr Warcop in? she said.
'Yes. Surgery-hour. He's coming at once. Also the police, from Bellingham.'
Miss Patterdale cleared her throat, and said in a fierce voice: 'Well, Charles, there's nothing you or I can do for the poor man. He's dead, and that's all there is to it.'
'He's dead all right,' said Charles grimly. 'But if you imagine that's all there's going to be to it, Aunt Miriam, you'd better think again!'
4.
MlSS PATTERDALE let her monocle fall, and, picking it up as it swing on the end of its thin cord, began to polish it vigorously. 'You don't think it can have been an accident, Charles?'
'How could it have been?'
She glanced rather vaguely round. 'Don't understand balistics myself. People do go out with guns, though, after rabbits.'
'But they don't aim at rabbits in private gardens,' said Charles. 'What's more, rabbits aren't usually seen in the air!'
She looked fleetingly at the still figure on the seat. 'He was sitting down,' she pointed out, but without conviction.
'Talk sense, Aunt Miriam!' Charles begged her. 'Any fool could see he's been murdered! You don't even have to have a giant intellect to realize where the murderer must have been standing.' He nodded towards the rising commonland beyond the lane, where the gorse-bushes blazed deep yellow in the late sunshine. 'Bet you anything he was lying up in those bushes! The only bit of bad luck he had was Mavis being in the lane at the time -- and even that wasn't really bad luck, because she was too dumb to do him any harm.'
'Can't be surprised the girl was too much shocked to think of looking for him' said Miss Patterdale fairmindedly. 'It isn't the sort of thing anyone would expect to happen! I suppose it wouldn't be any use going to search those bushes?'
He could not
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