Country homes -- England -- Fiction; Detective and mystery stories; Murder -- Investigation -- Fiction
Arthur Hawkhurst had listened to his uncle’s exhibition of caution
with unconcealed contempt; and he now broke in with all the brutality
of youth.
“Cold feet, eh?”
Ernest seemed to resent the imputation with a certain dull animosity.
“It seems to me only commonsense, Arthur. Why should I run any risks?
I’ve been attacked once; and since they didn’t succeed in damaging me
then, they’ll obviously be waiting for another chance. I think it
would be a stupid move to put myself in the way, a very stupid move
indeed. And I think most sensible people would agree with me. If you
don’t, and if you want something to do, you might go down to the Maze
and get me my cigar-case yourself. That would be better than sitting
there, sneering at your elders.”
He assumed the air of one who had just administered a well-merited
rebuke; but his dignity was slightly diminished by the necessity of
putting his glasses straight. Arthur seemed to take his uncle’s
protest as a taunt.
“Think I’m in a funk, too? I’ll go and get your case if you like.”
Ernest appeared to be horrified at the suggestion.
“I couldn’t think of it!” he exclaimed, almost with animation. “Why,
anything might happen out in the dark there. You’re not to go, Arthur.
I forbid it.”
Arthur’s lips shut tight for a moment as he looked at his uncle.
“It doesn’t matter a damn to me whether you forbid it or not. I’ve
offered to go; and I’m not going to draw back now and let people think
I was only bragging. Besides, how do you know anyone’s after me?
They’re after you all right; they’ve attacked you already. But that’s
no reason why they should worry about me, is it? I guess you’re the
one they’ve marked down, uncle.”
“Oh, indeed, do you think so?” said Ernest, uncomfortably. “I don’t
think that’s a very nice thing to say, Arthur. It’s one of these
things that may have too much truth in them to be altogether a joke,
you know. I wish you wouldn’t say them. I don’t like them, I really
don’t. And I don’t want you to go out of the house to-night. Suppose
anything were to happen to you!”
He paused for a moment, then added as a final argument:
“We’ve got trouble enough on our hands just now.”
Sir Clinton was watching Arthur keenly; and the boy turned round in
time to catch the expression on the Chief Constable’s face.
“You think I was just bragging? All right, you’ll see. I’ll take one
of the cars down to the Maze and I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
He turned on his heel and walked out of the room. To Wendover’s
surprise, Sir Clinton made no attempt to detain him. Ernest’s face
showed marked annoyance. Evidently he could not help seeing that his
super-caution had been brought into the limelight once again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account