Murder Is Easy (Superintendent Battle 4)

He stepped across to the door of the room he was in, and applied an eye to a crack. He hoped Ellsworthy, if it was he, would go straight upstairs.

The side door opened and Ellsworthy stepped in, switching on a hall light as he did so.

As he passed along the hall, Luke saw his face and caught his breath.

It was unrecognizable. There was foam on the lips, the eyes were alight with a strange mad exultation as he pranced along the hall in little dancing steps.

But what caused Luke to catch his breath was the sight of Ellsworthy’s hands. They were stained a deep brownish red—the colour of dried blood….

He disappeared up the stairs. A moment later the light in the hall was extinguished.

Luke waited a little longer, then very cautiously he crept out of the hall, made his way to the scullery and left by the window. He looked up at the house, but it was dark and silent.

He drew a deep breath.

“My God,” he said, “the fellow’s mad all right! I wonder what he’s up to? I’ll swear that was blood on his hands!”

He made a detour round the village and returned to Ashe Manor by a roundabout route. It was as he was turning into the side lane that a sudden rustle of leaves made him swing round.

“Who’s there?”

A tall figure wrapped in a dark cloak came out from the shadow of a tree. It looked so eerie that Luke felt his heart miss a beat. Then he recognized the long pale face under the hood.

“Bridget? How you startled me!”

She said sharply:

“Where have you been? I saw you go out.”

“And you followed me?”

“No. You’d gone too far. I’ve been waiting till you came back.”

“That was a damned silly thing to do,” Luke grumbled.

She repeated her question impatiently.

“Where have you been?”

Luke said gaily:

“Raiding our Mr. Ellsworthy!”

Bridget caught her breath.

“Did you—find anything?”

“I don’t know. I know a bit more about the swine—his pornographical tastes and all that, and there are three things that might be suggestive.”

She listened attentively as he recounted the result of his search.

“It’s very slight evidence, though,” he ended. “But, Bridget, just as I was leaving Ellsworthy came back. And I tell you this—the man’s as mad as a hatter!”

“You really think so?”

“I saw his face—it was—unspeakable! God knows what he’d been up to! He was in a delirium of mad excitement. And his hands were stained. I’ll swear with blood.”

Bridget shivered.

“Horrible…” she murmured.

Luke said irritably:

“You shouldn’t have come out by yourself, Bridget. It was absolute madness. Somebody might have knocked you on the head.”

She laughed shakily.

“The same applies to you, my dear.”

“I can look after myself.”

“I’m pretty good at taking care of myself, too. Hard-boiled, I should think you’d call me.”

A sharp gust of wind came. Luke said suddenly:

“Take off that hood thing.”

“Why?”

With an unexpected movement he snatched at her cloak and whipped it away. The wind caught her hair and blew it out straight up from her head. She stared at him, her breath coming fast.

Luke said:

“You certainly are incomplete without a broomstick, Bridget. That’s how I saw you first.” He stared a minute longer and said, “You’re a cruel devil.”

With a sharp impatient sigh he tossed the cloak back to her.

“There—put it on. Let’s get home.”

“Wait….”

“Why?”

She came up to him. She spoke in a low, rather breathless voice.

“Because I’ve got something to say to you—that’s partly why I waited for you here—outside the Manor. I want to say it to you now—before we go inside—into Gordon’s property….”

“Well?”

She gave a short, rather bitter laugh.

“Oh, it’s quite simple. You win, Luke. That’s all!”

He said sharply:

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve given up the idea of being Lady Whitfield.”

He took a step nearer.

“Is that true?” he demanded.

“Yes, Luke.”

“You’ll marry me?”

“Yes.”

“Why, I wonder?”

“I don’t know. You say such beastly things to me—and I seem to like it….”

He took her in his arms and kissed her. He said:

“It’s a mad world!”

“Are you happy, Luke?”

“Not particularly.”

“Do you think you’ll ever be happy with me?”

“I don’t know. I’ll risk it.”

“Yes—that’s what I feel….”

He slipped his arm through hers.

“We’re rather queer about all this, my sweet. Come along. Perhaps we shall be more normal in the morning.”

“Yes—it’s rather frightening the way things happen to one…” She looked down and tugged him to a standstill. “Luke—Luke—what’s that…?”

The moon had come out from the clouds. Luke looked down to where Bridget’s shoe trembled by a huddled mass.

With a startled exclamation he dragged his arm free and knelt down. He looked from the shapeless heap to the gatepost above. The pineapple was gone.

He stood up at last. Bridget was standing, her hands pressed together on her mouth.

He said:

“It’s the chauffeur—Rivers. He’s dead….”

“That beastly stone thing—it’s been loose for some time—I suppose it blew down on him?”

Luke shook his head.

“The wind wouldn’t do a thing like that. Oh! that’s what it’s meant to look like—that’s what it’s meant to be—another accident! But it’s a fake. It’s the killer again….”

“No—no, Luke—”

“I tell you it is. Do you know what I felt on the back of his head—in with the stickiness and mess—grains of sand. There’s no sand about here. I tell you, Bridget, somebody stood here and slugged him as he came through the gate back to his cottage. Then laid him down and rolled that pineapple thing down on top of him.”

Bridget said faintly:

“Luke—there’s blood—on your hands….”

Luke said grimly:

“There was blood on someone else’s hands. Do you know what I was thinking this afternoon—that if there were to be one more crime we’d surely know. And we do know! Ellsworthy! He was out tonight and he came in with blood on his hands capering and prancing and mad—drunk with the homicidal maniac’s expression….”

Looking down, Bridget shivered and said in a low voice: “Poor Rivers….”

Luke said pityingly:

“Yes, poor fellow. It’s damnable bad luck. But this will be the last, Bridget! Now we know, we’ll get him!”

He saw her sway and in two steps he had caught her in his arms.

She said in a small childlike voice:

“Luke, I’m frightened….”

He said, “It’s all over, darling. It’s all over….”

She murmured:

“Be kind to me—please. I’ve been hurt so much.”

He said: “We’ve hurt each other. We won’t do that anymore.”

Seventeen

LORD WHITFIELD TALKS

Dr. Thomas stared across his consulting room desk at Luke.

“Remarkable,” he said. “Remarkable! You are really serious, Mr. Fitzwilliam?”

“Absolutely. I am convinced that Ellsworthy is a dangerous maniac.”

“I have not paid special attention to the man. I should say, though, that he is possibly an abnormal type.”

/> “I’d go a good deal further than that,” said Luke grimly.

“You seriously believe that this man Rivers was murdered?”

“I do. You noticed the grains of sand in the wound?”

Dr. Thomas nodded.