Free The Shortest Way to Hades by Sarah Caudwell Page A

flat that she began to feel serious disquiet.
    “I thought, you see, that if they went into the bathroom they would find Julia there, still perhaps feeling not quite well, and it might be upsetting for her.”
    “As it happens,” said Julia, “I was no longer in the bathroom, but on the balcony of Rupert’s bedroom—Rowena had thought it the best place to go when the disturbance started. Something rather curious happened while we were out there—there was a snow shower. Not an ordinary snow shower, you understand, falling alike on the just and unjust, but one confined to the balcony and falling exclusively on Rowena and myself. At least, so it seemed at the time; on closer investigation, we found that what was falling on us was not snow at all, but a quantity of little twists and packets of paper. It appeared that those on the roof, thinking it inadvisable to remain in possession of whatever they had been sniffing and smoking and putting in the fudge, were attempting to dispose of the evidence; but they evidently didn’t realize that the balcony extended some distance further than the roof, so obstructing the free passage of their dejectamenta to the safe anonymity of the public highway. Selena, of course, didn’t know about this at the time.”
    “No,” said Selena. “No, I didn’t. I thought, as I have said, that if the police searched the flat they would find you in the bathroom, perhaps feeling not quite well, and I felt anxious. If I had known that they would find you on the balcony, unconvincingly disguised as a schoolgirl and surrounded by little packets of illegal substances, I would not have felt less so.”
    She had accordingly thought it right to inquire casually whether their visitors happened to have a search warrant or anything of that kind. The taller one, who seemed to be the spokesman, admitted that they had not; but they supposed, he said, that if Mr. Galloway had nothing to hide he wouldn’t mind them taking a look round to see that everything was aboveboard. Ignoring anguished looks and attempted disclaimers from Rupert—who fortunately, however, seemed by this time incapable of coherent speech—she answered firmly that Mr. Galloway would mind very much indeed.
    “The taller one shrugged his shoulders and said that if that was our attitude they’d better go back to the station for further orders, and he hoped we wouldn’t blame them if it looked suspicious in their report. I assured him that we wouldn’t and they took their departure. Together, of course, with Rupert’s flashlight camera.”
    I heard in Selena’s voice a note of irony, and the upward curve of the corners of her mouth was a fraction more pronounced than usual. I began to think that things were not what they seemed.
    “While Rupert went up to the roof, to tell his guests that the forces of law and order had now retreated and they might safely return to the comfort of the drawing-room, I telephoned Mortlake police station. I told them that we had received a visit from a PC Golightly, that being the signature on the receipt for the camera, and a colleague of his whose name I did not know. They informed me that there was no one among their officers of that name, and that none of their force had been sent that evening to the address I mentioned.”
    “It just shows,” said Ragwort, “how careful one should always be to behave like a respectable house-holder. Even if one isn’t.”
    “Especially if one isn’t,” said Julia.
    “Thinking,” continued Selena, “that Rupert would be interested in this information, I followed him on to the roof. He became, on hearing my news, extremely indignant. Uttering various intemperate threats, he went to the parapet and looked over, in the hope of catching some glimpse of the impostors making their departure. I too, from curiosity rather than indignation, tried to look over the parapet. But it was too high for me to see anything nearer than the far bank of the river. So you do