Free Police at the Funeral by Margery Allingham

going into reminiscences,’ he said warningly, ‘as I sincerely hope we’re not, I could unfold a tale or so.’
    Mr Campion looked blandly innocent and Miss Held laughed.
    â€˜I just take that as another evidence of Marcus’s mania for doing the right thing,’ she said. ‘It’s more than an instinct with you, Marcus – it’s a passion. Well, we’ll leave it that you’re to tell Joyce that I’m dying to see her, which is perfectly true. Of course, I don’t want to butt in, but you know if there’s ever anything I can do, the line’s just got to be indicated and I’ll be off down it like a rabbit.’
    She spoke with perfect sincerity, and Mr Campion beamed upon her approvingly. As far as he could see, really attractive characters in this affair were going to be scarce, and it was delightful to find one at the breakfast-table so unexpectedly on the first morning of his arrival.
    It was at this point that the door of the room was opened with scant ceremony, and instead of the gaunt and rheumatic Harriet it was Joyce herself who appeared on the threshold.
    At the first sight of her the three young people rose to meet her. She was incredibly pale and seemed to be on the verge of collapse.
    â€˜Why, child, whatever is the matter?’ Ann Held put her arm round the girl’s waist and drew her into a chair.
    Joyce took a deep breath. ‘I’m all right,’ she said. ‘It’s – it’s Aunt Julia.’
    Marcus paused in the act of pouring out a cup of coffee for her. ‘Julia?’ he demanded. ‘What’s the matter with her?’
    â€˜She’s dead,’ said Joyce explosively, and began to cry.
    There was silence in the room for a moment while the other three assimilated the shock. The practical-minded Ann Held came to the most natural conclusion.
    â€˜Poor dear,’ she said. ‘I suppose all this business affected her heart.’
    Joyce blew her nose violently. ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘She’s been poisoned, I think. Great-aunt Caroline sent me down to tell you.’
    Her voice died away in the room, which seemed suddenly to have become very cold. The horror of this bald announcement, coming in the very midst of the drama of Andrew Seeley’s death, had, temporarily at any rate, a numbing effect. This was a development that neither Campion nor Marcus had considered.
    Campion, who had never seen Julia, and was therefore only impersonally moved by Joyce’s announcement, took command of the situation.
    â€˜I say,’ he said soothingly, ‘do you think you could tell us about it?’
    Joyce pulled herself together before his quiet matter-of-fact tone and wiped her eyes.
    â€˜I don’t know when it happened,’ she said. ‘Last night, I suppose, or early this morning. When Alice went to call her at seven o’clock this morning she was sleeping so soundly that she couldn’t wake her. Thinking she was probably overtired, she let her sleep on. She didn’t come down to breakfast at eight, and afterwards – about half-past – I took her some food on a tray. As soon as I entered the room I saw she was ill. She was breathing horribly, making the most dreadful noise, and the whites of her eyes were showing. I took the food away and sent young Christmas – that’s old Christmas’s son, the one who drives the car – down to fetch Doctor Lavrock. He was rather late coming. They got the message muddled or something, and the doctor stayed to see another patient on the way. When hedid arrive it was about half-past nine, I suppose. She must have died practically the moment he came into the room. Aunt Kitty and I were with her.’
    She paused breathlessly and they waited patiently for her to continue.
    Joyce went on, eager to get the story out. ‘She never spoke and never seemed to wake up. The breathing just stopped, that was