Free The Mystery at Underwood House (An Angela Marchmont Mystery) by Clara Benson Page A

vigorously. ‘A high-up policeman! Is he a Scotland Yard ‘tec, your friend?’
    ‘ He is indeed, and a very important one too,’ said Angela. She tapped her nose mysteriously.
    ‘ Coo!’ said the boy, opening his eyes wide. ‘Is he one of them what investigates murders and suchlike?’
    ‘ Yes, murders, thefts, blackmail, drug-running, espionage—all sorts of things. Why, he was one of the men who brought the McBride gang to justice, and he has a bullet-wound in his side to prove it!’
    The boy clasped his hands together and almost danced in excitement.
    ‘ I wish I could meet him,’ he said. ‘I’m going to be a detective just like him when I grow up.’
    ‘ Oh? Then you will have to work very hard and start practising now. Tell me again what the man who stole my bag looked like. He was tall with a stoop and a moustache, I think you said.’
    The boy looked down and shuffled his feet uncomfortably.
    ‘ I thought he was,’ he admitted. ‘But now I wonder whether I was looking at the right fellow. There was such a row going on that I might have got the wrong one.’
    ‘ Then you would not swear to your earlier description?’
    He shook his head sheepishly.
    Angela smiled. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘It is not easy to be an accurate observer, but I have no doubt that the next time you are a witness to a crime you will remember everything you saw.’
    The boy looked relieved.
    ‘ I think I ought to be getting home now,’ she went on.
    ‘ Get you a taxi, miss?’ said the boy.
    ‘ Yes please,’ said Angela. She was still feeling rather shaken after her experience and decided it was better not to risk the walk.
    The taxi arrived and Angela got in. The boy stayed to salute her.
    ‘ Don’t forget to tell your ‘tec friend,’ he said. ‘He’ll catch the fellow, you’ll see!’
    ‘ Of course,’ said Angela. She nodded and winked.
    ‘ Good gracious!’ she said to herself as the taxi departed, ‘A bullet-wound in his side, indeed! I must be quite light-headed after that fall to be talking such bunk.’ Then she sat back in her seat and laughed until the tears rolled down her face.

TEN
     
    After a hot bath and a light repast Angela felt much better, and submitted without too much protest to being fussed over by her maid, Marthe, who was horrified to hear of her adventure.
    ‘ But madame ,’ she said, ‘You ought not to have been wandering around the city alone. It is full of des méchants and assassins—bad men who lie in wait around every corner to cut one’s throat. I have always said it, have I not? And now I am proved right. Look at your poor hands! And your silk stockings, torn to rags!’ She clicked her tongue and shook her head. ‘Promise me you will not go out alone again without a man to protect you.’
    Angela laughed.
    ‘ Don’t be absurd, Marthe,’ she said. ‘To hear you, anyone would think that London was the seventh circle of Hell. I was merely unfortunate this afternoon. An opportunistic thief thought he should get good pickings from me, that’s all. I shall of course be more careful in future.’
    Marthe threw up her hands in despair.
    ‘ What will become of you, madame ? Very well, I wash my hands of it, but I beg of you—do not take any risks.’
    ‘ Don’t worry, I shan’t,’ replied Angela. ‘Now, bring me some coffee and a paper and pencil. I should like to think for a while.’
    She sat down at an elegant little table by the window, from where she was accustomed to amuse herself in observing the passers-by as they went about their daily business. Having spent much of her adult life in New York, Angela had grown to prefer big cities to small towns, and was pleased with the situation of her flat, which afforded an excellent view of the street below. On this occasion, however, she was not concerned with the goings-on outside, her thoughts being occupied by other matters. She sat staring at nothing much as her coffee cooled beside her and the sun began to