Free A Night of Errors by Michael Innes Page B

work it and only a horrible slobbering sound came. Sebastian grasped him and shook him roughly. ‘What the–’
    And Swindle found his voice. ‘Your ladyship,’ he cried, ‘your ladyship – it’s Sir Oliver! He’s dead, your ladyship – burnt to death in his study.’
    They looked at each other fearfully and in a sick silence. Unheeding, the nightingale sang out its ecstasy beyond the lawn.

 
     
5
    ‘Would you care to come and look at something?’ said the voice.
    Appleby glanced at the clock. ‘My dear man, it’s nearly midnight.’
    ‘Quite so. But that’s when these things are apt to happen. Of course’ – and the voice took on the faint irony of the bachelor–’ if your wife–’
    ‘Judith’s away visiting her people at Long Dream. When what things are apt to happen?’
    ‘Murder.’ The voice spoke in plain triumph. ‘Murder most foul, as at the best it is–’
    ‘Good heavens, Hyland, don’t tell me you’ve taken to Shakespeare.’
    ‘Well, haven’t you taken to bees? The force must keep its cultural end up, you know. But this most foul, strange and unnatural.’
    ‘Why unnatural?’
    ‘Look here,’ said the voice most unfairly, ‘you’re simply wasting time. Will you come? It’s a baronet.’
    ‘No, no, Hyland – it won’t do. I’ve had my fill of murdered baronets – and especially at midnight, as you say. The annals of the Yard are glutted with them. It was hard at times to believe that any could be left alive in England. For you must add, you know, all those we were obliged to hang… Who is it?’
    ‘Sir Oliver Dromio – quite one of our local big-wigs. And a beautiful murder. Hit on the head – they think perhaps with the butt-end of a revolver – and then burnt to a cinder in his own fireplace.’
    ‘Rubbish. Burning to a cinder takes more than that. When I was looking into the burning of old Gaffer Odgers back in–’
    ‘To be sure – one of your most famous cases.’ The voice over the telephone was momentarily deferential. ‘But, you know, since you came to settle in these parts I’ve always hoped we might have something to show you one day. And here it is! Of course I can’t promise, but I do think it may be interesting. I’ve heard some queer things about these Dromios. Why, in this office there’s record of an investigation we thought it necessary to make into them about forty years ago.’
    Appleby laughed. ‘And endorsed “How will it be with them forty years on?” Well, the answer’s a cinder. I’ll come.’
    ‘Good. I suppose Mrs Appleby took your car?’
    ‘No, she didn’t. Billy Bidewell came over for her with Spot.’
    ‘Then that’s capital. I’ll meet you at Sherris Hall. You must have noticed it? Big place rather falling to bits. I’d better get along there myself now. I’ve only had a telephone report so far.’
    ‘All right, Hyland – and thank you very much. But I rather think you’ll find more than a few calcined bones.’
    ‘Possibly so. But that’s all they found forty years ago. It’s always stuck in my mind, that. I rather see this’ – the voice was again full of gusto and excitement – ‘as a grim crime of retribution.’
    ‘As what ?’
    But Inspector Hyland of the Sherris Magna police had rung off.
    Appleby smiled as he hung up the receiver. A thoroughgoing fellow, this Hyland, and evidently resolved to begin at the beginning. Few crimes have their roots a couple of generations back. But a murderer would get a good start if, for a romantic police officer, he contrived to give his crime so cobwebby a décor …
    And Appleby quieted the dogs and got out the car. As one grows older one’s pleasures become less sophisticated, and he was fond of the smooth power locked up in the big yellow Bentley. It had bound itself up with his career; more than ten years ago it had taken him to his first big case – that queer, rather creaking case at St Anthony’s College; the Commissioner had acted with the amiability of