The Chestermarke InstinctFletcher, J. S. (Joseph Smith)
General
The Chestermarke Instinct
Fletcher, J. S. (Joseph Smith)
Detective and mystery stories
Mrs. Carswell hesitated a little, but in the end she knocked timidly at
the private door. And presently Joseph Chestermarke opened it, looked
out, saw Betty, and came into the hall. He offered his visitor no polite
greeting, and for once he forgot his accustomed sneering smile. Instead,
he gave the housekeeper a swift look which sent her away in haste, and
he turned to Betty with an air of annoyance.
"Yes?" he asked abruptly. "What do you want?"
"I want to go into my uncle's house--into his rooms," said Betty. "I am
his next-of-kin--I wish to examine his papers."
"You can't!" answered Joseph. "We haven't examined them ourselves yet."
"What right have you to examine them?" demanded Betty.
"Every right!" retorted Joseph.
"Not his private belongings!" she said firmly.
"This is our house--you're not going into it," declared Joseph.
"Nobody's going into it--without our permission."
"We'll see about that, Mr. Joseph Chestermarke!" replied Betty.
"If--supposing--my uncle is dead, I've the right to examine anything
he's left. I insist upon it! I insist on seeing his papers, looking
through his desk. And at once!"
"No!" said Joseph. "Nothing of the sort. We don't know that you've any
right. We don't know that you're his next-of-kin. We're
not--legally--aware that you're his niece. You say you are--but we don't
know it--as a matter of real fact. You'd better go away."
Betty's cheeks flamed hotly and her eyes flashed.
"So that's your attitude--to me!" she exclaimed. "Very well! But you
shall soon see whether I am what I say I am. What are you and your uncle
implying, suggesting, hinting at?" she went on, suddenly letting her
naturally hot temper get the better of her. "Do you realize what an
utterly unworthy part you are playing? You accuse my uncle of being a
thief--and you dare not make any specified accusation against him! You
charge him with stealing your securities--and you daren't tell the
police what securities! I don't believe you've a security missing!
Nobody believes it! The police don't believe it. Lord Ellersdeane
doesn't believe it. Why, your own clerk, Mr. Neale, who ought to know,
if anybody does, doesn't believe it! You're telling lies, Mr. Joseph
Chestermarke--there! Lies! I'll denounce you to the whole town--I'll
expose you! I believe my uncle has met with some foul play--and as sure
as I am his niece I'll probe the whole thing to the bottom. Are you
going to admit me to those rooms?"
The door of the private room, which Joseph had left slightly ajar
behind him, was pushed open a little, and Gabriel's colourless face
looked out.
"Tell the young woman to go and see a solicitor," he said, and vanished
again.
Joseph glanced at Betty, who was still staring indignantly at him.
"You hear?" he said quietly. "Now you'd better go away. You are not
going in there."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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