Of course, I had to make some sort of examination. He was an extremely tall and thin individual. He must have been well over six feet three. He was dark and very cadaverous-looking. In fact, I dont suppose hed ever looked so cadaverous in his life. He was wearing a trench coat.
It wasnt difficult to tell what hed died of. Hed been shot through the back. I found the hole just under the right scrofula, or scalpel what is shoulder-blade, anyway? Oh, clavicle stupid of me well, thats where it was, and the bullet had evidently gone through into the lung. I say evidently, and leave it at that.
There were no papers in his pockets, and no tailors name on his clothes, but there was a note-case, with nine pounds in it. Altogether a most unpleasant business. Of course, it doesnt do to question the workings of Providence, but one couldnt help wishing it hadnt happened. It was just a little mysterious, too er who had killed him. It wasnt likely that the girl had or she wouldnt have been joy-riding about the country with him; and if someone else had murdered him why hadnt she mentioned it? Anyway, she hadnt and shed gone, so one couldnt do anything for the time being. No telephone, of course. I just locked up the garage and went to bed. That was two oclock.
Next morning I woke early, for some reason or other, and it occurred to me as a good idea to go and have a look at things by daylight, and before Mrs. Selston turned up. So I did. The first thing that struck me was that it had snowed heavily during the night, because there were no wheel tracks or footprints, and the second was that Id left the key in the garage door. I opened it and went in. The place was completely empty. No car, no body, no nothing. There was a patch of grease on the floor where Id dropped the candle, otherwise there was nothing to show Id been there before. One of two things must have happened: either some people had come along during the night and taken the car away, or else Id fallen asleep in front of the fire and dreamt the whole thing.
Then I remembered the whisky glasses.
They should still be in the sitting-room. I went back to look, and they were, all three of them. So it hadnt been a dream and the car had been fetched away, but they must have been jolly quiet over it.
The girl had left her glass on the mantel-piece, and it showed several very clearly defined finger-marks. Some were mine, naturally, because Id fetched the glass from the kitchen and poured out the drink for her, but hers, her finger-marks, were clean, and mine were oily, so it was quite easy to tell them apart. It isnt necessary to point out that this glass was very important. Thered evidently been a murder, or something of that kind, and the girl must have known all about it, even if she hadnt actually done it herself, so anything she had left in the way of evidence ought to be handed over to the police; and this was all she had left. So I packed it up with meticulous care in an old biscuit-box out of the larder.
When Mrs. Selston came I settled up with her and came back to Town. Oh, I called on the landlord on the way and told him Id let him know about the bungalow. Then I caught my train, and in due course drove straight to Scotland Yard. I went up and saw my friend there. I produced the glass and asked him if his people could identify the marks. He said: Probably not, but he sent it down to the fingerprint department and asked me where it came from. I said: Never you mind; lets have the identification first. He said: All right.
Theyre awfully quick, these people the clerk was back in three minutes with a file of papers. They knew the girl all right. They told me her name and showed me her photograph; not flattering. Quite an adventurous lady, from all accounts. In the early part of her career shed done time twice for shop-lifting, chiefly in the book department. Then shed what they call taken up with a member of one of those race-gangs one sometimes hears about.
My pal went on to say that thered been a fight between two of these gangs, in the course of which her friend had got shot. Shed managed to get him away in a car, but it had broken down somewhere in Norfolk. So shed left it and the dead man in someones garage, and had started off for Norwich in a lorry. Only she never got there. On the way the lorry had skidded, and both she and the driver a fellow called Williams had been thrown out, and theyd rammed their heads against a brick wall, which everyone knows is a fatal thing to do. At least, it was in their case.
I said: Look here, its all very well, but you simply cant know all this; there hasnt been time it only happened last night.
I said: Look here, its all very well, but you simply cant know all this; there hasnt been time it only happened last night.
He said: Last night be blowed! It all happened in February, nineteen nineteen. The people youve described have been dead for years.
I said: Oh!
And to think that I might have stuck to that nine pounds!
Marjories Three Gifts (Louisa May Alcott)
Marjorie sat on the door-step, shelling peas, quite unconscious what a pretty picture she made, with the roses peeping at her through the lattice work of the porch, the wind playing hide-and-seek in her curly hair, while the sunshine with its silent magic changed her faded gingham to a golden gown, and shimmered on the bright tin pan as if it were a silver shield. Old Rover lay at her feet, the white kitten purred on her shoulder, and friendly robins hopped about her in the grass, chirping A happy birthday, Marjorie!
But the little maid neither saw nor heard, for her eyes were fixed on the green pods, and her thoughts were far away. She was recalling the fairy-tale granny told her last night, and wishing with all her heart that such things happened nowadays. For in this story, as a poor girl like herself sat spinning before the door, a Brownie[4] came by, and gave the child a good-luck penny; then a fairy passed, and left a talisman[5] which would keep her always happy; and last of all, the prince rolled up in his chariot[6], and took her away to reign with him over a lovely kingdom, as a reward for her many kindnesses to others.
When Marjorie imagined this part of the story, it was impossible to help giving one little sigh, and for a minute she forgot her work, so busy was she thinking what beautiful presents she would give to all the poor children in her realm when THEY had birthdays. Five impatient young peas took this opportunity to escape from the half-open pod in her hand and skip down the steps, to be immediately gobbled up by an audacious robin, who gave thanks in such a shrill chirp that Marjorie woke up, laughed, and fell to work again. She was just finishing, when a voice called out from the lane,
Hi, there! come here a minute, child! and looking up, she saw a little old man in a queer little carriage drawn by a fat little pony.
Running down to the gate, Marjorie dropped a curtsy, saying pleasantly,
What did you wish, sir?
Just undo that check-rein for me. I am lame, and Jack wants to drink at your brook, answered the old man, nodding at her till his spectacles danced on his nose.
Marjorie was rather afraid of the fat pony who tossed his head, whisked his tail, and stamped his feet as if he was of a peppery temper. But she liked to be useful, and just then felt as if there were few things she could NOT do if she tried, because it was her birthday. So she proudly let down the rein, and when Jack went splashing into the brook, she stood on the bridge, waiting to check him up again after he had drunk his fill of the clear, cool water.
The old gentleman sat in his place, looking up at the little girl, who was smiling to herself as she watched the blue dragon-flies dance among the ferns, a blackbird tilt on the alder boughs, and listened to the babble of the brook.
How old are you, child? asked the old man, as if he rather envied this rosy creature her youth and health.
Twelve to-day, sir; and Marjorie stood up straight and tall, as if mindful of her years.
Had any presents? asked the old man, peering up with an odd smile.
One, sir, here it is; and she pulled out of her pocket a tin savings-bank in the shape of a desirable family mansion, painted red, with a green door and black chimney. Proudly displaying it on the rude railing of the bridge, she added, with a happy face,
Granny gave it to me, and all the money in it is going to be mine.
How much have you got? asked the old gentleman, who appeared to like to sit there in the middle of the brook, while Jack bathed his feet and leisurely gurgled and sneezed.
Not a penny yet, but Im going to earn some, answered Marjorie, patting the little bank with an air of resolution pretty to see.
How will you do it? continued the inquisitive old man.
Oh, Im going to pick berries and dig dandelions, and weed, and drive cows, and do chores. It is vacation, and I can work all the time, and earn ever so much.
But vacation is play-time, how about that?
Why, that sort of work IS play, and I get bits of fun all along. I always have a good swing when I go for the cows, and pick flowers with the dandelions. Weeding isnt so nice, but berrying is very pleasant, and we have good times all together.
What shall you do with your money when you get it?
Oh, lots of things! Buy books and clothes for school, and, if I get a great deal, give some to granny. Id love to do that, for she takes care of me, and Id be so proud to help her!
Good little lass! said the old gentleman, as he put his hand in his pocket. Would you now? he added, apparently addressing himself to a large frog who sat upon a stone, looking so wise and grandfatherly that it really did seem quite proper to consult him. At all events, he gave his opinion in the most decided manner, for, with a loud croak, he turned an undignified somersault into the brook, splashing up the water at a great rate. Well, perhaps it wouldnt be best on the whole. Industry is a good teacher, and money cannot buy happiness, as I know to my sorrow.