Free Bones in the Barrow by Josephine Bell Page A

man, ploughed on.
    â€œThen you assure me, do you, that you have no exact knowledge of your wife’s present whereabouts?”
    â€œNone whatever.”
    â€œAnd you don’t know where she has been at all since she left home in July?”
    â€œAugust. August 10th.”
    â€œThank you. I am glad you decided to tell me that.”
    Mr. Hilton made an angry movement with his right hand; it went strangely with his calm pale face, but he said nothing.
    â€œYou don’t know at all where she has been since August 10th?”
    â€œNot precisely. Somewhere in London, of course.”
    â€œBecause you know that Mrs. Lapthorn was meeting her there? Fair enough. But since last November Mrs. Lapthorn has neither seen her nor heard from her. In other words she has disappeared.”
    â€œBecause she doesn’t choose to have any more to do with Janet Lapthorn?”
    â€œI hope that is the reason.”
    â€œWhat other reason could there be?”
    Johnson did not answer this directly.
    â€œTell me, Mr. Hilton. How often did your wife write to you after she left you?”
    â€œTwice. The letter she left here for me, and which I answered as I have told you, and the other letter, telling me the truth and asking for a divorce.”
    â€œYou have heard nothing of her since?”
    â€œI did not say that. You asked me if she had written. She did not. But a solicitor, acting on her behalf, wrote to ask me if I would reconsider my attitude and allow her suit to be undefended, or alternatively take divorce proceedings against her? I answered through my solicitor that I would not do either.”
    â€œHow often did this occur?”
    â€œThree times.”
    â€œWhen was the last time?”
    Mr. Hilton turned to look at the inspector. He seemed to be genuinely concerned at last.
    â€œIt was some time in November,” he said, with surprise beginning to spread over his face. “Yes, about the beginning of the second week.”
    â€œAh.”
    The two men continued to stare at each other, and Johnson saw a shadow, that might have been fear, pass quickly over the other’s face, leaving it as composed as before. The inspector took a step forward.
    â€œHave you now, or have you ever had, since November, any doubt about your wife’s personal safety? Any fear that something might have happened to her? An illness? Even a street accident?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œNot even when Mrs. Lapthorn started writing to you to say she could not get in touch with her friend?”
    â€œNot even then.”
    â€œI find that rather strange, sir.”
    â€œDo you? I don’t, and I will tell you why. Since my wife left me I have made her an allowance, sufficient to keep her in moderate comfort at a small hotel or in rooms. At her own request the money was paid direct by my bank into hers. She has for a long time had a separate account at a central London branch of my bank. As I say, the money has been paid in, and the account is still open.
    Withdrawals have been made at regular intervals. Naturally I have known about that from time to time.”
    â€œYou mean she is still drawing on her account, provided by you?”
    â€œExactly. So you see, Inspector, I can’t get up much enthusiasm for Janet Lapthorn’s melodramatic suspicions.”
    â€œWho told you she had suspicions? I did not.”
    â€œShe did, herself.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œI wonder if you do, Inspector. I wonder if you ever see anything at all clearly. I wonder very much what point there is in coming here to discuss my private affairs, and my wife’s behaviour. It would be much better, surely, to give your energies to the detection of crime.”
    The inspector was not to be drawn.
    â€œWell, I think that’s all, sir,” he said stolidly. “For the present, at any rate.”
    Looking back at the gate he saw that Mr. Hilton was watching his departure from the front door. He gave