Free 4.50 From Paddington by Agatha Christie Page B

was really nothing there anybody could have wanted to take, we went on leaving the key hanging up. It was convenient for the Women's Institute people. If we'd kept it in the house it might have been awkward - when there was no one at home to give it them when they wanted it to get the place ready. With only daily women and no resident servants...”
    Her voice tailed away. She had spoken mechanically, giving a wordy explanation without interest, as though her mind was elsewhere.
    Cedric gave her a quick puzzled glance. “You're worried, sis. What's up?”
    Harold spoke with exasperation: “Really, Cedric, can you ask?”
    “Yes, I do ask. Granted a strange young woman has got herself killed in the barn at Rutherford Hall (sounds like a Victorian melodrama) and granted it gave Emma a shock at the time - but Emma's always been a sensible girl - I don't see why she goes on being worried now. Dash it, one gets used to everything.”
    “Murder takes a little more getting used to by some people than it may in your case,” said Harold acidly. “I dare say murders are two a penny in Majorca and -”
    “Ibiza, not Majorca.”
    “It's the same thing.”
    “Not at all - it's quite a different island.”
    Harold went on talking:
    “My point is that though murder may be an everyday commonplace to you, living amongst hot-blooded Latin people, nevertheless in England we take such things seriously.” He added with increasing irritation, “And really, Cedric, to appear at a public inquest in those clothes -”
    “What's wrong with my clothes? They're comfortable.”
    “They're unsuitable.”
    “Well, anyway, they're the only clothes I've got with me. I didn't pack my wardrobe trunk when I came rushing home to stand in with the family over this business. I'm a painter and painters like to be comfortable in their clothes.”
    “So you're still trying to paint?”
    “Look here, Harold, when you say trying to paint -”
    Mr. Wimborne cleared his throat in an authoritative manner.
    “This discussion is unprofitable,” he said reprovingly. “I hope, my dear Emma, that you will tell me if there is any further way in which I can be of service to you before I return to town?”
    The reproof had its effect. Emma Crackenthorpe said quickly:
    “It was most kind of you to come down.”
    “Not at all. It was advisable that someone should be at the inquest to watch the proceedings on behalf of the family. I have arranged for an interview with the inspector at the house. I have no doubt that, distressing as all this has been, the situation will soon be clarified. In my own mind, there seems little doubt as to what occurred. As Emma has told us, the key of the Long Barn was known locally to hang outside the door. It seems highly probable that the place was used in the winter months as a place of assignation by local couples. No doubt there was a quarrel and some young man lost control of himself. Horrified at what he had done, his eye lit on the sarcophagus and he realised that it would make an excellent place of concealment.”
    Lucy thought to herself, “Yes, it sounds most plausible. That's just what one might think.”
    Cedric said, “You say a local couple - but nobody's been able to identify the girl locally.”
    “It's early days yet. No doubt we shall get an identification before long. And it is possible, of course, that the man in question was a local resident, but that the girl came from elsewhere, perhaps from some other part of Brackhampton. Brackhampton's a big place - it's grown enormously in the last twenty years.”
    “If I were a girl coming to meet my young man, I'd not stand for being taken to a freezing cold barn miles from anywhere,” Cedric objected. “I'd stand out for a nice bit of cuddle in the cinema, wouldn't you, Miss Eyelesbarrow?”
    “Do we need to go into all this?” Harold demanded plaintively.
    And with the voicing of the question the car drew up before the front door of Rutherford Hall and they