Free Mystery Mile by Margery Allingham Page B

voice, coupled with the tragedy which had overwhelmed her, infected the other girl with some of her terror.
    â€˜But,’ said Biddy, struggling to regain her common sense, ‘St Swithin killed himself. There’s no doubt of that, they say. If it were a murder it wouldn’t be so horrible. Oh,’ she said irrelevantly, ‘I wish Giles would come back.’
    A gentle tap on the door startled them both. Old Cuddy appeared with a tray. The old woman’s hands trembled. She had been told of the tragedy and had reacted to it in her own practical way.
    â€˜I’ve brought you both a cup of cocoa, Miss Biddy,’ she said.
    She set the tray down beside them and without further words began to make the fire and refill the emptying candlesticks. They drank the cocoa gratefully. The heavy stimulant soothed their nerves and they sat quiet until far away over the silhouetted hedge tops they saw the faint glow of headlights against the sky. The light came nearer until they heard the car whisper past the house. Then all was black again.
    â€˜Who will they have got? The doctor and the sheriff?’ said Isopel nervously.
    Biddy shook her head. ‘It’ll be Dr Wheeler and Peck, the Heronhoe policeman, I suppose,’ she said; and quite suddenly she turned her face towards the shutter and wept.
    In the study across the green Dr Wheeler, a short, thick-set,oldish man with a natural air of importance, set his bag down upon the desk and took off his coat.
    Peck, the Heronhoe police-constable, red-faced and perspiring with unaccustomed responsibility, clutched his notebook unhappily.
    Giles and Marlowe had followed them into the room and now stood gravely in the doorway. Giles introduced Judge Lobbett and Albert Campion.
    The doctor nodded to them curtly.
    â€˜This is bad,’ he said. ‘Terrible. Not like the old man. I saw him only the other day. He seemed quite cheerful. Where’s the body, please?’ He spoke briskly.
    Giles indicated the door of the robing-room. ‘We’ve left him just as he fell, sir. There was nothing to be done. He – he’s practically blown his head off.’
    The little doctor nodded. ‘Yes, quite,’ he said, taking the affair completely into his capable hands. ‘We shall need some light, I suppose. Peck, bring the lantern, will you?’
    His deference to their susceptibilities was not lost upon the others, and they were grateful.
    The closet door swung open and the doctor, stepping carefully to avoid the stream of blood, went in, the constable walking behind him, the lantern held high.
    Some of the horror that they saw was communicated to the four who now stood upon the hearthrug waiting. Dr Wheeler reappeared within a few minutes, Peck following him, stolid and unmoved.
    The doctor shook his head. ‘Very nasty,’ he said quietly. ‘Death must have been absolutely instantaneous, though. We must get him out of there. We’ll need a shed door, and if you could get a sheet, Giles – How’s Biddy?’ he broke off. ‘Is she all right? Over at the Dower House? I’ll go in and see her before I go.’
    Giles explained that Isopel was with her, and the old man, who had known the brother and sister since they were children, seemed considerably relieved. Campion and Marlowe went through the dark stone kitchens of the Rectory. They let themselves into the brick yard, and lifting a toolshed door offits hinges brought it carefully into the house. Giles was upstairs in search of a sheet: they could hear him stumbling about on the uneven floors.
    With the constable holding the light, they assisted the doctor to lift the gruesome sightless thing on to the improvised stretcher. The doctor had thrown a surplice that had been hanging on the wall over all that remained of the old man before Giles returned with the sheet.
    They laid the stretcher on a hastily arranged trestle of chairs at the far end of the room. Campion