that I shan't be expected to know when the murder was committed!'
'I wouldn't say that, sir,' said Hobkirk darkly. 'And when you found him, the deceased was sitting like he is now?'
'Hasn't moved an inch,' said Charles.
'Charles!' said Miss Patterdale. 'This is not a moment for flippancy!'
'Sorry, Aunt Miriam! The worst is being roused in me.'
'Then overcome it!' said Miss Patterdale severely. 'Neither Mr Haswell nor I have touched the body, Hobkirk, if that, as I suppose, is what you want to know. Miss Warrenby may have touched, though I should doubt it.'
'I don't have to tell you, miss, that it is very highly improper for anyone to go touching anything on the scene of the crime.' The constable's slow-moving gaze travelled to a sheaf of type-written papers, clipped together at one corner, and lying on the grass beside the corpse's right foot. 'Those papers, now: I take it they was there, laying on the ground?'
'Yes, and do you know what I think?' said Charles irrepressibly. 'I believe the deceased must have been reading them -- no, I mean perusing them, at the time he was shot.'
'That's is may be, sir,' replied Hobkirk, with dignity. 'I don't say it wasn't so, but things aren't always what they seem, not by any means they aren't.'
'No, and life is not an empty dream, either. Are you supposed to be in charge of this investigation?'
Hobkirk, in his unofficial moments, rather liked young Mr Haswell, whom he considered a well-set-up young gentleman, with friendly manners, and one, moreover, who could be relied upon to do great execution, with his inswingers, amongst the batsmen of neighbouring villagers; but he now detected in him a certain lack of respect, combined with a deplorable levity, and he answered with quelling coldness: 'I'm here, sir, to take charge of things till relieved. Properly speaking, you had ought to have notified me of this occurrence, when I should, in accordance with the regulations, have reported same to my headquarters in Bellingham.'
'At the end of which exercise we should have been precisely where we are now,' said Charles. 'Still, I'm sorry you aren't going to remain in charge! I say, Aunt Miriam, is it really past eight? I'd better go and give my Mama a ring: we dine at eight, and she always pictures me in the local hospital, with every bone in my body fractured, if I don't show up when I said I would.'
He strode off towards the house. Hobkirk watched him go, his countenance betraying some uncertainty of mind. In all the uneventful years of his service no case of murder had previously come his way, so that he had only a half-forgotten memory of text-book procedure to act upon. He felt vaguely that young Mr Haswell should not be allowed to make use of the telephone belonging to the deceased. But as he had already made use of it, to summon the police, it was difficult to know on what grounds he could now be restrained. Constable Hobkirk held his peace therefore, and was secretly glad of the diversion afforded by the arrival at that moment of Dr Warcop, in his aged but still reliable car.
Dr Edmund Warcop, who resided in a comfortable Victorian house, inherited, like his practice, from his long-dead father, and situated on the outskirts of Bellmgham, on the Trindale road, was 47 sixty years of age and as unaccustomed as Constable Hobkirk to dealing with cases of murder. His professional methods, which were old fashioned, might be the despair of younger and more progressive colleagues, but he enjoyed a very respectable practice, his simpler patients being as conservative as he was himself, and thinking it scarcely possible that they could be born or die without a Warcop to attend them; and the more sophisticated believing that they must be safe in the hands of a man who rode so well to hounds, and who had been established in the district for as long as most of them could remember. He held himself in high esteem, rarely called in a second opinion, and had never been known to
'I wouldn't say that, sir,' said Hobkirk darkly. 'And when you found him, the deceased was sitting like he is now?'
'Hasn't moved an inch,' said Charles.
'Charles!' said Miss Patterdale. 'This is not a moment for flippancy!'
'Sorry, Aunt Miriam! The worst is being roused in me.'
'Then overcome it!' said Miss Patterdale severely. 'Neither Mr Haswell nor I have touched the body, Hobkirk, if that, as I suppose, is what you want to know. Miss Warrenby may have touched, though I should doubt it.'
'I don't have to tell you, miss, that it is very highly improper for anyone to go touching anything on the scene of the crime.' The constable's slow-moving gaze travelled to a sheaf of type-written papers, clipped together at one corner, and lying on the grass beside the corpse's right foot. 'Those papers, now: I take it they was there, laying on the ground?'
'Yes, and do you know what I think?' said Charles irrepressibly. 'I believe the deceased must have been reading them -- no, I mean perusing them, at the time he was shot.'
'That's is may be, sir,' replied Hobkirk, with dignity. 'I don't say it wasn't so, but things aren't always what they seem, not by any means they aren't.'
'No, and life is not an empty dream, either. Are you supposed to be in charge of this investigation?'
Hobkirk, in his unofficial moments, rather liked young Mr Haswell, whom he considered a well-set-up young gentleman, with friendly manners, and one, moreover, who could be relied upon to do great execution, with his inswingers, amongst the batsmen of neighbouring villagers; but he now detected in him a certain lack of respect, combined with a deplorable levity, and he answered with quelling coldness: 'I'm here, sir, to take charge of things till relieved. Properly speaking, you had ought to have notified me of this occurrence, when I should, in accordance with the regulations, have reported same to my headquarters in Bellingham.'
'At the end of which exercise we should have been precisely where we are now,' said Charles. 'Still, I'm sorry you aren't going to remain in charge! I say, Aunt Miriam, is it really past eight? I'd better go and give my Mama a ring: we dine at eight, and she always pictures me in the local hospital, with every bone in my body fractured, if I don't show up when I said I would.'
He strode off towards the house. Hobkirk watched him go, his countenance betraying some uncertainty of mind. In all the uneventful years of his service no case of murder had previously come his way, so that he had only a half-forgotten memory of text-book procedure to act upon. He felt vaguely that young Mr Haswell should not be allowed to make use of the telephone belonging to the deceased. But as he had already made use of it, to summon the police, it was difficult to know on what grounds he could now be restrained. Constable Hobkirk held his peace therefore, and was secretly glad of the diversion afforded by the arrival at that moment of Dr Warcop, in his aged but still reliable car.
Dr Edmund Warcop, who resided in a comfortable Victorian house, inherited, like his practice, from his long-dead father, and situated on the outskirts of Bellmgham, on the Trindale road, was 47 sixty years of age and as unaccustomed as Constable Hobkirk to dealing with cases of murder. His professional methods, which were old fashioned, might be the despair of younger and more progressive colleagues, but he enjoyed a very respectable practice, his simpler patients being as conservative as he was himself, and thinking it scarcely possible that they could be born or die without a Warcop to attend them; and the more sophisticated believing that they must be safe in the hands of a man who rode so well to hounds, and who had been established in the district for as long as most of them could remember. He held himself in high esteem, rarely called in a second opinion, and had never been known to
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