The Case of Naomi Clynes by Basil Thomson

left.”
    â€œYou have known her for some years?”
    â€œYes, she was in Paris during the Peace Conference, working for some American Society, and when that broke up she came to Liverpool to be near an aunt who has since died.”
    â€œDo you know whether she had any other relations?”
    â€œNo, I’m sure she hadn’t. She told me so herself. It was partly through me that she obtained a post in the office of a well-known solicitor, Mr. John Maze, in this city. Poor thing! She had no money from her aunt, who had only a small annuity which died with her. What do you think was the cause of Miss Clynes’ death?”
    â€œThe doctor believes that it was a suicide. She was found with her head in a gas-oven.”
    â€œOh, I can scarcely believe that. She was a most level-headed and conscientious church woman. If you would like to see my wife I’m sure she will confirm all I have said.”
    â€œI should like to see Mrs. Crispin very much.”
    The vicar went out to call his wife, a middle-aged lady, who came in fluttering with emotion.
    â€œI simply can’t believe it, Mr.…”
    â€œRichardson,” prompted her husband.
    â€œI simply can’t believe it. Miss Clynes was one of the most sensible women I know. She had literary ambitions, and she wrote to me only a few days ago to say that her first novel had been accepted. It was a most cheerful letter; I wish I’d kept it to show you. She was used to living alone, so she wouldn’t have got depressed on that account.”
    â€œWhere did she live?”
    â€œShe was in lodgings at 10 Rosewear Road, quite close to the church.”
    After noting the address Richardson asked, “Had she any intimate friends?”
    â€œNo, I believe that I was her greatest friend. She was a reserved woman who did not make friends very easily.”
    â€œShe never gave you the impression that she had something on her mind?”
    The vicar’s wife searched her memory. “You know, of course, that she had one great sorrow in her life. She was engaged to an officer in the Liverpool regiment, and he was killed in 1917.”
    â€œNo, I did not know that, but after seventeen years that could scarcely have been a motive for suicide. Why did she leave Mr. Maze’s employment?”
    â€œOnly because Mr. Maze was retiring from business. He, poor man, has never been the same since the death of his little nephew. He was taking him to school in France and they were in that dreadful railway accident outside Paris when one train ran over another and half the passengers were killed. He escaped with nothing worse than a shaking, but the boy was killed. Miss Clynes told me that he could not bear to speak of it.”
    â€œHe spoke of it to me just once,” said the vicar.
    â€œHe said that the business of identifying the body and arranging for the funeral was the most horrible in his experience.”
    â€œEveryone noticed the difference in him,” added his wife. “It was natural that he should want to retire. Miss Clynes told me that he had been very generous to her, but of course he could afford it as he is a very rich man.”
    Richardson slowly closed his notebook, having come to the end of his questions. “Thank you very much. You have been very helpful, Mrs. Crispin. I think that I will call at Miss Clynes’ late lodgings and see whether her landlady can throw any light on the cause of her sad death.”
    The vicar came to the door with him to point out the direction of the lodgings, and they parted with mutual expressions of goodwill.
    No. 10 Rosewear Road proved easy to find. The bell was answered by a buxom, smiling landlady, who wilted a little when she heard who he was, but invited him into her kitchen in order not to disturb her lodgers who were at supper in the parlour.
    â€œI have called to ask you a few questions about the late Miss Clynes, who, I am told, formerly lodged with