Free Murder Is Come Again by Joan Smith Page B

it.”
    “He sounds a dangerous fellow,” Corinne cautioned. “Let us see what we can learn from Weir and Mrs. Beazely first.”
    This was agreed, and it was arranged that Luten would accompany Black and Coffen when they called on Weir in the morning. He wanted to meet this Weir. It had occurred to him that Weir might know a good many things. He saw more of Bolger than anyone else did, and lived at the Brithelmston. He might have an idea at least who this Mad Jack was. He might even be the connecting link between the two.
    As often happened with them, the execution of their plan was delayed due to a more frightening occurrence in the morning.
     

Chapter Eleven
     
    Over breakfast the next morning the Lutens were discussing the plans they had made the night before when once again they were interrupted by bad news. A pale-faced Black didn’t wait to be announced but came barging into the breakfast parlour, puffing like a grampus from the fast pace he had set to bring the news.
    “What is it, Black?” Corinne asked in alarm.
    He fell on to a chair. “Mr. Pattle’s in clink,” he gasped out, reverting in his distress to the language of former days.
    “What, arrested?” Luten demanded. “What the devil for?”
    “For murdering Mary Scraggs. Her body was found right enough. A rat catcher was taking a short cut through the cemetery at dawn and found her, just as we left her, except I believe the flowers were gone or Brown would have mentioned them. Likely the rat catcher took them and sold them.”
    “But why blame Coffen?” Corinne asked.
    Black, in his distress, couldn’t sit still. He rose and paced back and forth, wringing his hands. “An anonymous note, according to Brown. It’s the work of whoever’s after the treasure, depend on it.”
    “What was in the note? What evidence do they have?” Luten asked.
    “Whoever killed Mary prigged her bonnet and purse and planted them in Mr. Pattle’s curricle. The ten pounds were missing, not that it matters now, but it proves to my satisfaction that the tip came from whoever was at his house the night she was murdered, and murdered her.”
    “It certainly looks that way,” Corinne agreed.
    “Now we know why the reticule and bonnet were missing,” Luten said. “They took them on purpose to point the finger at Coffen. Whatever is hidden in that house must be worth a great deal, to go to so much trouble.”
    “Aye, there’s rum quids in it for someone,” Black said.
    Corinne turned a trusting eye on her husband. “Can’t you do something, Luten?”
    Luten squared his jaw, tossed aside his napkin as he rose from the table and said grimly, “The first thing to do is go down to the gaol and get him out.”
    “You’d best take a lawyer with you,” said Black, the expert in matters criminal. “They’re strict when the charge is murder. Do you know a lawyer in town?”
    “Deveril’s the man for this. I don’t know him but I know of him. I’ll pick him up on the way.”
    “Can I go with you, Luten?” Black asked. “I can’t just sit idle and do nothing while Mr. Pattle’s in gaol.”
    Corinne could see Luten’s reluctance and soon figured out the cause of it. Black, despite his best efforts, still had the air of the criminal about him. His presence wouldn’t do Coffen any good.
    “Why don’t we go to the mews where Coffen stables his curricle and ask if anyone was seen snooping around there?” she said to Black.
    Helping Mr. Coffen was the one thing in the world that might restrain Black, and it didn’t hurt that she had said ‘we’. When Luten said, “She’s right, Black. Would you mind? You may be sure I’ll move heaven and bend earth to get him out.”
    “Come right back and let us know, one way or the other,” Corinne said. Before Black had a chance to object the thing was done. Luten, with a nod of approval at his wife for her quick thinking went dashing out. Black was so upset he didn’t even think to become Lord