Police at the Funeral by Margery Allingham Page A

get us out of it without making ourselves the gossip of the whole county. Extraordinarily typical of Andrew,’ he added, with a sudden startling increase of volume in his tone, ‘that he couldn’t even leave this world without making a lot of bother for us all. They kept me up at the police station talking for about an hour this afternoon.’
    He cast an inquiring glance at Mr Campion, and his dubiousness concerning that young man’s possible use in such an emergency was as apparent as though he had spoken it. He returned to Marcus.
    â€˜Well, my boy,’ he said, ‘since your father hasn’t come back yet – and after all, he’s getting on a bit now, isn’t he? – whatare we going to do about it? I told the police all I knew, which was damned little, between ourselves. They didn’t seem at all satisfied, to tell you the truth, and if I hadn’t known such a thing was impossible I should have suspected them of questioning my story, such as it was. Just like Andrew,’ he repeated. ‘I can see that fellow looking up from Hades, or wherever he is, and laughing at the precious uncomfortable situation he’s got us all into.’
    Marcus, scandalized by this frank admission of the dislike which had existed between the two men, coughed warningly. But Uncle William was not to be detracted from the story he had set himself to tell.
    â€˜I don’t know if you’ve told Mr – er – Mr Campion here what I told you up at the house this afternoon about Andrew’s idiotic decision to walk home from church. I was held up behind, talking to an acquaintance in the porch – Miss Berry – very pretty girl – and when I came out he’d sent the car on. Otherwise I should have insisted on driving home, and then this whole trouble would have been averted, I suppose. Although why the police think it happened then I don’t know; there doesn’t seem to be any evidence on that point. Still, as I say, you know all that, don’t you, about the words I had with the fool? I told the police that, of course. Most extraordinary! They seemed to think that it was odd that two men of our age should worry themselves about which was the shorter way home. But, hang it, as I said to the man – some fearful bounder in uniform – a fellow doesn’t like to be flatly contradicted, whatever his age is. Besides,
my
legs were going to suffer. Andrew didn’t carry the weight I do. Bit of a weakling, Andrew. Still, I suppose we must be respectful to the dead.’
    He paused, and sat looking balefully at the two young men before him. Marcus evidently felt no comment was possible. As for Mr Campion, he remained grave and inconceivably vacant, his pale face blank and his long thin hands folded on his knee.
    Uncle William trumpeted his next remark. The time had come, he felt, to get to the point.
    â€˜I came down here this evening for three reasons, Marcus,’ he said, ‘In the first place there’s that dear girl of ours – andyours. I don’t think that at the present time the Close is the place for her. Of course I have no authority with young people, but I think if you could put your foot down, my boy, we could get her to go and stay with that pretty little American friend of hers in the town.’
    Marcus was suddenly taken aback by this implication that he had somehow neglected his duty as a fiancé, and Uncle William, feeling that he had the advantage, continued:
    â€˜When I was a young man I wouldn’t see the lady whom I had honoured by asking to become my wife mixed up with a filthy affair like this. See about it tomorrow. Well, that’s one thing. The next is a point I forgot to tell the police, or rather I started to tell ’em, but they changed the conversation, don’t you know. About the time Andrew was supposed to have met his end – that seems to me an important point, doesn’t it to