Mr. Fortune's PracticeBailey, H. C. (Henry Christopher)
General
Mr. Fortune's Practice
Bailey, H. C. (Henry Christopher)
Detective and mystery stories; Forensic scientists -- Fiction
“Oh Lord, yes,” Lomas laughed. “Quite a good fellow. Bell is so
melodramatic in the hot weather. I don’t think Eagle is pulling my
leg. I suspect it’s the lady who is out for a little free
advertisement. To be reported missing--that is a sure card. On the
placards, in the headlines, unlimited space in all the papers. Wait
and see, Bell. The delay means nothing. She couldn’t tell her Press
agent to send in news of her disappearance. It wouldn’t be artistic.”
Superintendent Bell looked at him compassionately. “And I’m sure I
hope you’re right, sir,” he said. “But it don’t look that way to me.
If she wanted to disappear for a joke why did she go and do it like
this? These young ladies on the stage, they value their comforts. She
goes off walking at night with nothing but what she stood up in. If
you ask me to believe she meant to do the vanishing act when she went
out of her house, I can’t see how it’s likely.”
“Strictly speakin’,” said Reggie, “nothing’s likely. Why did she go
out, Bell? To keep an appointment with her murderer?”
“I don’t see my way, sir. I own it. But there’s her garden goes down
to the river--suppose she just tumbled into the water--she might be
there now.”
“The bag,” said Reggie dreamily. “The bag, Bell. It didn’t float
upstream, and yet we found it above her garden. She couldn’t have
been walking along the bank. The towpath is the other side. The bag
came into the river from a boat--or from the grounds of another
house.”
Lomas laughed. “My dear Fortune, I like your earnest simplicity. It’s
a new side to your character and full of charm. I quite agree the bag
is interesting. I think it’s conclusive. A neat and pretty touch. The
little lady threw it into the river to give her disappearance
glamour.”
“Rather well thrown,” said Reggie. “Say a quarter of a mile. Hefty
damsel.”
“Oh, my dear fellow, she may have taken a boat, she may have crossed
and walked up the towpath.”
“Just to get her bag into the river above her house? Why would she
want to put it in above her house? She couldn’t be sure that it would
stay there. It might have sunk. It might have drifted a mile farther.”
Lomas shrugged. “Well, as you say. But we don’t know that the bag was
lost that night at all. She may have dropped it out of a boat any
time and anywhere.”
“Yes, but plenty of boats go up and down that reach. And we found it
bright and early the morning after she vanished. Why didn’t anybody
else find it before? I rather fancy it wasn’t there, Lomas.”
“What’s your theory, Mr. Fortune?” said Bell eagerly.
“My dear fellow! Oh, my dear fellow! I don’t know the lady.”
“They say she’s a sportive maiden,” Lomas smiled. “I’ll wager you’ll
have a run for your money, Bell.”
Reggie Fortune considered him severely. “I don’t think it’s a race to
bet on, Lomas, old thing.”
It was about this time that Mr. Montgomery Eagle’s name was brought
in. “Will you see him, Mr. Lomas?” Bell said anxiously.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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