inspector turned to him. 'That remains to be seen,' he observed. 'Whoever it was who shot him collided with Mr Starkwedder, who was coming up to the house to try to get help for his stranded vehicle. In the collision, the man dropped a gun. Mr Starkwedder picked it up - this gun.' He pointed to the gun on the table.
'I see, sir. Thank you, sir,' said Angell as he turned to the door again.
'By the way,' added the inspector, 'were there any visitors to the house yesterday? Yesterday evening in particular?'
Angell paused for just a moment, then eyed the inspector shiftily. 'Not that I can recall, sir - at present,' he replied. He left the room, closing the door behind him.
Inspector Thomas went back to the desk. 'If you ask me,' he said quietly to the sergeant, 'that fellow's a nasty bit of goods. Nothing you can put your finger on, but I don't like him.'
'I'm of the same opinion as you, regarding that,' Cadwallader replied. 'He's not a man I would trust, and what's more, I'd say there may have been something fishy about that accident.' Suddenly realizing that the inspector was standing over him, he got up quickly from his chair. The inspector took the notes Cadwallader had been making, and began to peruse them. 'Now I wonder if Angell knows something he hasn't told us about last night,' he began, and then broke off. 'Hello, what's this? “'Tis misty in November, But seldom in December.” That's not Keats, I hope?'
'No,' said Sergeant Cadwallader proudly. 'That's Cadwallader.'
The Unexpected Guest
CHAPTER SEVEN
The inspector thrust Cadwallader's notebook back at him roughly, as the door opened and Miss Bennett came in, closing the door carefully behind her. 'Inspector,' she said, 'Mrs Warwick is very anxious to see you. She is fussing a little.' She added quickly, 'I mean Mrs Warwick senior, Richard's mother. She doesn't admit it, but I don't think she's in the best of health, so please be gentle with her. Will you see her now?'
'Oh, certainly,' replied the inspector. 'Ask her to come in.'
Miss Bennett opened the door, beckoning, and Mrs Warwick came in. 'It's all right, Mrs Warwick,' the housekeeper assured her, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.
'Good morning, madam,' the inspector said. Mrs Warwick did not return his greeting, but came directly to the point. 'Tell me, Inspector,' she ordered, 'what progress are you making?'
'It's rather early to say that, madam,' he replied, 'but you can rest assured that we're doing everything we can.'
Mrs Warwick sat on the sofa, placing her stick against the arm. 'This man MacGregor,' she asked. 'Has he been seen hanging about locally? Has anyone noticed him?'
'Enquiries have gone out about that,' the inspector informed her. 'But so far there's been no record of a stranger being seen in the locality.'
'That poor little boy,' Mrs Warwick continued. 'The one Richard ran over, I mean. I suppose it must have unhinged the father's brain. I know they told me he was very violent and abusive at the time. Perhaps that was only natural. But after two years! It seems incredible.'
'Yes,' the inspector agreed, 'it seems a long time to wait.''
'But he was a Scot, of course,' Mrs Warwick recalled. 'A MacGregor. A patient, dogged people, the Scots.'
'Indeed they are,' exclaimed Sergeant Cadwallader, forgetting himself and thinking out loud. ' “There are few more impressive sights in the world than a Scotsman on the make,”' he continued, but the inspector immediately gave him a sharp look of disapproval, which quietened him.
'Your son had no preliminary warning?' Inspector Thomas asked Mrs Warwick. 'No threatening letter? Anything of that kind?'
'No, I'm sure he hadn't,' she replied quite firmly. 'Richard would have said so. He would have laughed about it.'
'He wouldn't have taken it seriously at all?' the inspector suggested.
'Richard always laughed at danger,' said Mrs Warwick. She sounded proud of her son.
'After the accident,' the inspector continued, 'did
'I see, sir. Thank you, sir,' said Angell as he turned to the door again.
'By the way,' added the inspector, 'were there any visitors to the house yesterday? Yesterday evening in particular?'
Angell paused for just a moment, then eyed the inspector shiftily. 'Not that I can recall, sir - at present,' he replied. He left the room, closing the door behind him.
Inspector Thomas went back to the desk. 'If you ask me,' he said quietly to the sergeant, 'that fellow's a nasty bit of goods. Nothing you can put your finger on, but I don't like him.'
'I'm of the same opinion as you, regarding that,' Cadwallader replied. 'He's not a man I would trust, and what's more, I'd say there may have been something fishy about that accident.' Suddenly realizing that the inspector was standing over him, he got up quickly from his chair. The inspector took the notes Cadwallader had been making, and began to peruse them. 'Now I wonder if Angell knows something he hasn't told us about last night,' he began, and then broke off. 'Hello, what's this? “'Tis misty in November, But seldom in December.” That's not Keats, I hope?'
'No,' said Sergeant Cadwallader proudly. 'That's Cadwallader.'
The Unexpected Guest
CHAPTER SEVEN
The inspector thrust Cadwallader's notebook back at him roughly, as the door opened and Miss Bennett came in, closing the door carefully behind her. 'Inspector,' she said, 'Mrs Warwick is very anxious to see you. She is fussing a little.' She added quickly, 'I mean Mrs Warwick senior, Richard's mother. She doesn't admit it, but I don't think she's in the best of health, so please be gentle with her. Will you see her now?'
'Oh, certainly,' replied the inspector. 'Ask her to come in.'
Miss Bennett opened the door, beckoning, and Mrs Warwick came in. 'It's all right, Mrs Warwick,' the housekeeper assured her, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.
'Good morning, madam,' the inspector said. Mrs Warwick did not return his greeting, but came directly to the point. 'Tell me, Inspector,' she ordered, 'what progress are you making?'
'It's rather early to say that, madam,' he replied, 'but you can rest assured that we're doing everything we can.'
Mrs Warwick sat on the sofa, placing her stick against the arm. 'This man MacGregor,' she asked. 'Has he been seen hanging about locally? Has anyone noticed him?'
'Enquiries have gone out about that,' the inspector informed her. 'But so far there's been no record of a stranger being seen in the locality.'
'That poor little boy,' Mrs Warwick continued. 'The one Richard ran over, I mean. I suppose it must have unhinged the father's brain. I know they told me he was very violent and abusive at the time. Perhaps that was only natural. But after two years! It seems incredible.'
'Yes,' the inspector agreed, 'it seems a long time to wait.''
'But he was a Scot, of course,' Mrs Warwick recalled. 'A MacGregor. A patient, dogged people, the Scots.'
'Indeed they are,' exclaimed Sergeant Cadwallader, forgetting himself and thinking out loud. ' “There are few more impressive sights in the world than a Scotsman on the make,”' he continued, but the inspector immediately gave him a sharp look of disapproval, which quietened him.
'Your son had no preliminary warning?' Inspector Thomas asked Mrs Warwick. 'No threatening letter? Anything of that kind?'
'No, I'm sure he hadn't,' she replied quite firmly. 'Richard would have said so. He would have laughed about it.'
'He wouldn't have taken it seriously at all?' the inspector suggested.
'Richard always laughed at danger,' said Mrs Warwick. She sounded proud of her son.
'After the accident,' the inspector continued, 'did
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