Free The Saltmarsh Murders by Gladys Mitchell Page B

the dancing in a minute. The Adj. has already gone into hiding, I expect. I haven’t seen her about lately. I shall go home as soon as you’ve finished, I think. I’m awfully tired. We’ve to take William with us. Them’s her orders. He won’t half be sick, poor kid.”
    â€œHow’s Burt got on?” I murmured.
    â€œO.K. Also A. I . I like them, Noel. She may be a dreadful woman, though I wouldn’t take the Adjutant’s word for it, but she’s got an awfully kind heart. Did you know uncle has had an awful row with Sir William over the children’s sports? Seems silly, doesn’t it, but they say it was awful. All about nothing, too. You know those boys uncle turned out of the choir? They claimed the right to run in the choirboys’ hundred, because they had put their names down before they were chucked out, and Uncle wouldn’t have it atany price. Unfortunately, they had already run in their heats, while uncle was playing in the cricket match this morning, and both had qualified for the final. The rotten part of it was that Sir William upheld the boys. Uncle was furious, but he kept his temper. Sir William lost his, and called uncle a something parson in front of all the village people, so uncle punched him in the eye and there was the most frightful schemozzle. Uncle stuck to his point, though, and the whole race was abandoned. Sir William has gone off in the most terrible rage, and his eye is swelling up already. Isn’t it a rotten, beastly thing to have happened?”
    I agreed, and was about to enter into the thing more deeply when the flap of the tent was pushed aside and young William came butting in.
    â€œNoel! Noel!” he said, “Aunt Caroline’s here and she wants you at once. Uncle hasn’t been home yet, and it’s nearly ten o’clock, and she’s heard about the row he had with Sir William, and she says you know what Sir William’s temper is, and she’s worried to death. I say, she
is
in a stew, so do buck up, there’s a good chap!”
    I did know what the Squire’s temper was. Hadn’t I seen him trying to throttle the financier, Burns, merely for treading on the dog? What would he not do in return for a punch in the eye in front of all the village! I pulled off hat, hair and beard, put on my overcoat, blew out the candles, and, followed by Daphne, I tore out of the tent, and, together with William, we hastened to the vicarage.
    Mrs. Coutts was not having hysterics, of course. Shewas not the type for that. But she did look fearfully white and groggy. I volunteered to go and find Sir William and see what he could tell us of the vicar’s movements after he had left the fête. Daphne volunteered to come too, but, much as I would have liked her company, I thought somebody ought to stay with Mrs. Coutts. I wouldn’t have William, either, because I knew that his aunt would worry all the time he was out. Off I went, alone, therefore, to the Manor House, to see what was what. They were all in bed except Mrs. Bradley. The servants were all at the fête, so she came to the front door and let me in. From the park, through which I had just walked, came the sound of the brass band playing for the dancing. I entered the Manor House and followed Mrs. Bradley to the library, where there was a small but cheerful fire. She invited me to sit down and then she asked whether she had to cross my palm with silver. It says something for my state of mind that I had completely forgotten my gipsy costume. My overcoat had fallen away and disclosed a bright red skirt to her somewhat hawk-like gaze. I frowned and shook my head.
    â€œNo. I’ve come with rather serious news,” I said.” The vicar can’t be found. Er—we believe he had some sort of a dust-up with Sir William late in the afternoon, and it struck us, perhaps——”
    â€œThat the poor man may be lying at the bottom of the stone