The Spirit Murder Mystery by Robin Forsythe Page B

strange, detached look in the eyes, a look suggestive of seeing through outward forms to some hidden reality beyond. Then he suddenly realized that he was anticipating matters. Perhaps this strange experience of Eileen Thurlow’s on the night of the disappearance of her uncle had nothing whatever to do with the tragedy that had followed. The violent deaths of John Thurlow and Clarry Martin might resolve themselves into one of the complicated murder mysteries which had engaged his detective powers on so many previous occasions. He must be patient and await developments without forming theories on insufficient data.
    The next two days he spent in a state of restless impatience, listening to the various and contradictory stories of the case as retailed to him by his acquaintances in the village. On the morning of the third day, his friend Manuel Ricardo wrote to him, saying that his visit to Yarham must be postponed, owing to unforeseen circumstances and that Gertie Wentworth certainly came under that category. He added that Vereker’s investigator’s outfit had been forwarded by L.N.E.R., and had been replenished with an extra electric torch, three batteries, and twopence worth of gum arabic. These had been purchased out of his own money, as Albert had refused to advance more than one pound without a confirmatory note from his employer. He affirmed that he would do his utmost to put in an appearance at Yarham before the murder quest reached the stage of a pitched battle with sub-machine guns. The letter, one of Ricardo’s habitually flippant effusions, concluded with the important news that the services of Scotland Yard had been called in to deal with the Yarham murder mystery, and that Inspector Heather, who had been detailed to take charge of investigations on their behalf, had rung up the flat and was on his way to the village.
    This final piece of information at once mollified Vereker’s annoyance with Ricardo’s irrelevancies, and removed his sense of exasperation at his own forced inactivity. He felt that he would now be able to take an active part in this new battle against the forces of crime, and renew the old and exciting rivalry that accompanied his former investigations in conjunction with his friend Heather of the Yard.
    During this waiting for developments, Vereker had refrained from taking advantage of the invitation he had received from Miss Thurlow, but he had called on Doctor Cornard and discussed the case very thoroughly with him. He had also been kept in touch with the local police movements by his friend, Constable Godbold, under a promise of the strictest secrecy.
    Vereker had just thrust Ricardo’s letter in his pocket, when a railway van arrived with the case containing his investigator’s equipment. As he was about to take possession of this case, a police car suddenly ran into the cobbled square in front of “The Walnut Tree” Inn, and Inspector Heather stepped out. After an appreciative glance at the quaint architecture and beautiful setting of the old tavern, the inspector advanced towards Vereker with an expression of mock gravity on his round good-natured face.
    â€œThis is not playing the game, Mr. Vereker. You’ve got a long start of me this time.”
    â€œI need it. Since our last duel, they’ve added the Hendon College to help you out of your little difficulties.”
    â€œYou mean ‘The Brain Box’? Well, we’ll say we start equal then. What’s the beer like in ‘The Walnut Tree?’”
    â€œThere’s no bad beer in Suffolk.”
    â€œDear me, and yet they call it Silly Suffolk.”
    â€œThe word in its old sense meant blessed or fortunate, Heather.”
    â€œThen it still holds good. I’m getting hungry. What’s for lunch?” 
    â€œCold lunch to-day. Have you ever tasted a haslet?”
    â€œNever. I hope it’s not a cocktail.”
    â€œNo. I believe it’s made of pork.