England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Hearing this, I felt the necessity of sending at once to the station.
Where could I find a trustworthy messenger? I took the liberty of asking
the doctor if he would repeat to the police what he had already said to
me. The station was not much out of his way home. He kindly granted my
request.
The landlady (Mrs. Crosscapel) joined us while we were talking. She was
still a young woman; not easily frightened, as far as I could see, even
by a murder in the house. Her husband was in the passage behind her. He
looked old enough to be her father; and he so trembled with terror that
some people might have taken him for the guilty person. I removed the
key from the street door, after locking it; and I said to the landlady:
"Nobody must leave the house, or enter the house, till the Inspector
comes. I must examine the premises to see if any on e has broken in."
"There is the key of the area gate," she said, in answer to me. "It's
always kept locked. Come downstairs and see for yourself." Priscilla
went with us. Her mistress set her to work to light the kitchen fire.
"Some of us," says Mrs. Crosscapel, "may be the better for a cup of
tea." I remarked that she took things easy, under the circumstances. She
answered that the landlady of a London lodging-house could not afford to
lose her wits, no matter what might happen.
I found the gate locked, and the shutters of the kitchen window
fastened. The back kitchen and back door were secured in the same way.
No person was concealed anywhere. Returning upstairs, I examined the
front parlor window. There, again, the barred shutters answered for the
security of that room. A cracked voice spoke through the door of the
back parlor. "The policeman can come in," it said, "if he will promise
not to look at me." I turned to the landlady for information. "It's my
parlor lodger, Miss Mybus," she said, "a most respectable lady." Going
into the room, I saw something rolled up perpendicularly in the bed
curtains. Miss Mybus had made herself modestly invisible in that way.
Having now satisfied my mind about the security of the lower part of
the house, and having the keys safe in my pocket, I was ready to go
upstairs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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