Free Crow's Inn Tragedy by Annie Haynes Page A

woman with the aid of this.”
    â€œAh, yes. We shall find the wearer,” the inspector said confidently. “But will that be very much help in solving the mystery of Luke Bechcombe’s death?”
    The barrister looked at him.
    â€œI don’t know that it will. Still, why doesn’t she come forward and say ‘I saw Mr. Bechcombe the morning he was murdered. My business with him was urgent and I saw him by special appointment.’ She is much more likely to be suspected of the crime if she refuses to come forward. Mrs. Bechcombe seems certain of her guilt, and women do have intuitions.”
    â€œI’m not much of a believer in them myself,” remarked Inspector Furnival, shrugging his shoulders. “I would rather have a penn’orth of direct evidence than a pound’s worth of intuition. And I don’t believe that Mr. Bechcombe was murdered by a woman. A woman doesn’t spring at a man and strangle him. She may stab him or shoot him, the weapons being to hand, but strangle him with her hands—no. Besides, this was a premeditated crime. There was an unmistakable smell of chloroform about the body, faint, I grant you, but unmistakable. No, no! It wasn’t a woman. As to why she doesn’t speak—well, there may be a dozen reasons. In the first place she may not have heard of the murder at all. It doesn’t occupy a very conspicuous place in the morning’s papers. It will be a different matter to-night. Then, she might not want her business known. And, above all, many a woman—and man too—hates to be mixed up in a murder case, and won’t speak out till she is driven to it.”
    â€œQuite so!”
    The barrister sat silent for a minute or two, his eyes staring straight in front of him at nothing in particular. Inspector Furnival took another glance at his notes.
    â€œSpencer, the only person we have been able to trace so far who has seen this mysterious woman, fancies that her face is familiar to him, but does not know in what connection. I have suggested to him that she is possibly an actress, and he is inclined to think that it may be so. I have sent him up a quantity of photographs to see if he can identify any of them. But don’t you see, Mr. Steadman, Mr. Spencer’s evidence tends rather to exonerate Thompson. Spencer went out after Thompson and met this woman on It therefore appears probable that Thompson was off the premises before the woman came on.”
    Mr. Steadman shook his head.
    â€œIt isn’t safe to assume anything in a case of this kind. We do not know that Thompson went off the premises. We do not know where he went or where he is.”
    â€œVery true! I wish we did,” asserted the inspector. “At the same time—”
    The telephone bell was ringing sharply over his desk. He took up the receiver.
    â€œThat you, Jones? Yes, what is it? Inspector Furnival speaking.”
    â€œThompson’s address has been found in one of Mr. Bechcombe’s books. There are several other of the clerks’ addresses there all entered in Mr. Bechcombe’s writing, and all the others we have verified.”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œNumber 10 Brooklyn Terrace, North Kensington.”
    â€œUm! I will see to it at once.” And the inspector rang off sharply.

CHAPTER VI
    â€œCan’t hear of Brooklyn Terrace anywhere, sir.” The speaker was Mr. Steadman’s chauffeur.
    He had been going slowly the last few minutes, making ineffectual inquiries of the passers-by. Inside the car Mr. Steadman had Inspector Furnival seated beside him.
    â€œBetter drive to the nearest post-office and ask there. They will be sure to know.”
    â€œCall this North Kensington, do they?” the barrister grumbled, as the car started again. “Seems to me in my young days it used to be called Notting Hill.”
    The inspector laughed. “Think North Kensington sounds a bit more classy, I expect.