Free The Santa Klaus Murder by Mavis Doriel Hay

course, children can be very trying. “Run along to the library, Anne!”
    But Anne began to cry and ran to her mother. Luckily Clare, Mrs. George Melbury’s youngest, who is a much bolder child, called out, “I’ll go and see!” She ran across to the library door, which was open, and peeped in, and there was the big tree all lit up and Santa Klaus. She squeaked out: “Oh, oh, oh! It’s the Christmas-tree!” and all the other children raced across after her, and we followed.
    Everything went off all right. Santa Klaus gave out the presents, and the servants all came in to have a look, and certainly it was a lovely sight. There was a handsome gift from Sir Osmond for each of the grown-ups, and there were dozens of presents for the children, because all theirs had been saved until then. When everything had been opened and admired, the children began to play with their toys in the hall, because there was more room there. Kit began laying out some railway lines, and Enid hung around him, fussing over a big doll which Sir Osmond had given her, though it was easy to see that she very much wanted to play with Kit’s new train. Some of the grown-ups were playing with the children in the hall, or looking on, whilst others had gone into the drawing-room to listen to the wireless.
    When nearly everyone had left the library, which was all littered with wrappings and string, Sir Osmond told Bingham he could switch off the lights on the tree and then go. Bingham had been helping Kit with his train, showing him how it worked. Sir Osmond had been particular that he should stay near at hand until the lights were turned off, in case anything went wrong. Sir Osmond was rightly very careful about any electric apparatus in the house, seeing that so many fine old places had been destroyed by fire all through the electric wires.
    Sir Osmond then told me he was going to the study; he was tired and wanted a little rest before tea. Also it was his custom to begin to write his letters of thanks on Christmas Day. He did all those himself, of course, and was very systematic about them, doing so many each day.
    Now that morning Sir Osmond had received a letter which had come by hand and was marked “Personal.” He had looked at it for a long time, though I could see it had only three or four lines of typewriting and no signature, and he never told me what was in it. But he said to me to remind him if necessary—because his memory was not what it used to be—that he had an appointment between three-thirty and four-thirty that afternoon. I thought this rather funny, Christmas Day not being usual for a business appointment, and I suppose I showed it, for Sir Osmond said it was only a personal matter, but he wanted to be in the study ready. From that I took it that he was expecting some private telephone call.
    So on that afternoon of Christmas Day, when he said he was going into the study, I at once thought he had the engagement in mind, but to make sure I just said that I supposed it was not necessary to remind him of the call he was expecting, and he said that was all right. Those were the last words I ever spoke to Sir Osmond, and his last words to me, as he went into the study, were: “Thank you, Grace. It’s a pleasure to me to know there is someone I can always rely on.”
    Sir Osmond then called to Mr. Witcombe, who was still waiting in the library, as Santa Klaus, to follow him into the study, to have his instructions, I suppose, about giving out the presents in the servants’ hall. It had been arranged that he was to do this in his Santa Klaus dress and Sir Osmond was very particular that it should be done just so, with a special remark of a jocular nature to each one of them. We all knew that Mr. Witcombe didn’t relish this part of the business, because of course the servants all knew who he was and he probably felt a bit silly.
    When Sir Osmond went into the study with Mr.