THE RED HOUSE MYSTERY. A. A. Milne

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THE RED HOUSE MYSTERY - A. A. Milne

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shut.”

      “Isn’t that rather odd?”

      “Well, I thought so at first, but — ” He pointed to the wall jutting out on the right. “You see, you’re protected from the rest of the house if you get out here, and you’re quite close to the shrubbery. If you go out at the French windows, I imagine you’re much more visible. All that part of the house — ” he waved his right hand — “the west, well, north-west almost, where the kitchen parts are — you see, you’re hidden from them here. Oh, yes! he knew the house, whoever it was, and he was quite right to come out of this window. He’d be into the shrubbery at once.”

      Cayley looked at him thoughtfully.

      “It seems to me, Mr. Gillingham, that you know the house pretty well, considering that this is the first time you’ve been to it.”

      Antony laughed.

      “Oh, well, I notice things, you know. I was born noticing. But I’m right, aren’t I, about why he went out this way?”

      “Yes, I think you are.” Cayley looked away — towards the shrubbery. “Do you want to go noticing in there now?” He nodded at it.

      “I think we might leave that to the police,” said Antony gently. “It’s — well, there’s no hurry.”

      Cayley gave a little sigh, as if he had been holding his breath for the answer, and could now breathe again.

      “Thank you, Mr. Gillingham,” he said.

      CHAPTER IV

       The Brother from Australia

       Table of Contents

      Guests at the Red House were allowed to do what they liked within reason — the reasonableness or otherwise of it being decided by Mark. But when once they (or Mark) had made up their minds as to what they wanted to do, the plan had to be kept. Mrs. Calladine, who knew this little weakness of their host’s, resisted, therefore, the suggestion of Bill that they should have a second round in the afternoon, and drive home comfortably after tea. The other golfers were willing enough, but Mrs. Calladine, without actually saying that Mr. Ablett wouldn’t like it, was firm on the point that, having arranged to be back by four, they should be back by four.

      “I really don’t think Mark wants us, you know,” said the Major. Having played badly in the morning, he wanted to prove to himself in the afternoon that he was really better than that. “With this brother of his coming, he’ll be only too glad to have us out of the way.”

      “Of course he will, Major.” This from Bill. “You’d like to play, wouldn’t you, Miss Norris?”

      Miss Norris looked doubtfully at the hostess.

      “Of course, if you want to get back, dear, we mustn’t keep you here. Besides, it’s so dull for you, not playing.”

      “Just nine holes, mother,” pleaded Betty.

      “The car could take you back, and you could tell them that we were having another round, and then it could come back for us,” said Bill brilliantly.

      “It’s certainly much cooler here than I expected,” put in the Major.

      Mrs. Calladine fell. It was very pleasantly cool outside the golf-house, and of course Mark would be rather glad to have them out of the way. So she consented to nine holes; and the match having ended all-square, and everybody having played much better than in the morning, they drove back to the Red House, very well pleased with themselves.

      “Halo,” said Bill to himself, as they approached the house, “isn’t that old Tony?”

      Antony was standing in front of the house, waiting for them. Bill waved, and he waved back. Then as the car drew up, Bill, who was in front with the chauffeur, jumped down and greeted him eagerly.

      “Hallo, you madman, have you come to stay, or what?” He had a sudden idea. “Don’t say you’re Mark Ablett’s long-lost brother from Australia, though I could quite believe it of you.” He laughed boyishly.

      “Hallo, Bill,” said Antony quietly. “Will you introduce me? I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.”

      Bill, rather sobered by this, introduced him. The Major and Mrs. Calladine were on the near side of the car, and Antony spoke to them in a low voice.

      “I’m afraid I’m going to give you rather a shock,” he said. “Robert Ablett, Mr. Mark Ablett’s brother, has been killed.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “In the house.”

      “Good God!” said the Major.

      “Do you mean that he has killed himself?” asked Mrs. Calladine. “Just now?”

      “It was about two hours ago. I happened to come here,” — he half-turned to Beverley and explained — “I was coming to see you, Bill, and I arrived just after the — the death. Mr. Cayley and I found the body. Mr. Cayley being busy just now — there are police and doctors and so on in the house — he asked me to tell you. He says that no doubt you would prefer, the house-party having been broken up in this tragic way, to leave as soon as possible.” He gave a pleasant apologetic little smile and went on, “I am putting it badly, but what he means, of course, is that you must consult your own feelings in the matter entirely, and please make your own arrangements about ordering the car for whatever train you wish to catch. There is one this evening, I understand, which you could go by if you wished it.”

      Bill gazed with open mouth at Antony. He had no words in his vocabulary to express what he wanted to say, other than those the Major had already used. Betty was leaning across to Miss Norris and saying, “Who’s killed?” in an awe-struck voice, and Miss Norris, who was instinctively looking as tragic as she looked on the stage when a messenger announced the death of one of the cast, stopped for a moment in order to explain. Mrs. Calladine was quietly mistress of herself.

      “We shall be in the way, yes, I quite understand,” she said; “but we can’t just shake the dust of the place off our shoes because something terrible has happened there. I must see Mark, and we can arrange later what to do. He must know how very deeply we feel for him. Perhaps we — ” she hesitated.

      “The Major and I might be useful anyway,” said Bill. “Isn’t that what you mean, Mrs. Calladine?”

      “Where is Mark?” said the Major suddenly, looking hard at Antony.

      Antony looked back unwaveringly — and said nothing.

      “I think,” said the Major gently, leaning over to Mrs. Calladine, “that it would be better if you took Betty back to London to-night.”

      “Very well,” she agreed quietly. “You will come with us, Ruth?”

      “I’ll see you safely there,” said Bill in a meek voice. He didn’t quite know what was happening, and, having expected to stay at the Red House for another week, he had nowhere to go to in London, but London seemed to be the place that everyone was going to, and when he could get Tony alone for a moment, Tony no doubt would explain.

      “Cayley

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