Detective and mystery stories; Sheringham, Roger (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
“A jolly good thing for you that you did,” Alec said grimly. “I can
see fair play, at any rate. And trying to trick a woman who’s got
nothing to do with the thing at all into a lot of silly admissions is
_not_ playing the game.”
Roger took the other’s arm and led him gently into the garden.
“All right, all right,” he said in the tones of one soothing a
fractious child. “We’ll try other tactics, if you’re so set on it. In
any case, there’s no need to get excited. The trouble is that you’ve
mistaken your century, Alec. You ought to have lived four or five
hundred years ago. As a heavy-weight succourer of ladies in distress
you could have challenged all comers with one lance tied behind your
back. There, there!”
“Oh, it’s all very well for you to laugh,” returned the slightly
mollified Alec, “but I’m perfectly right, and you know it. If we’re
going on with this thing, we’re not going to make use of any dashed
underhand sneaky little detective tricks. If it comes to that, why
don’t you tackle Jefferson, if you’re so jolly keen on tackling
someone?”
“For the simple reason that the excellent Jefferson would certainly
not give anything away, my dear Alec; whereas there’s always the
chance that a woman will. But enough! We’ll confine ourselves to
sticks and stones, and leave the human element out of account; or the
feminine part of it, at any rate. But for all that,” Roger added
wistfully, “I _would_ like to know what’s going on amongst that trio!”
“Humph!” Alec grunted disapprovingly.
They paced for a time in silence up and down the edge of the lawn,
which ran parallel with the back of the house.
Roger’s thoughts were racing. The disappearance of the footprints had
caused him drastically to rearrange his ideas. He had now no doubt at
all that Jefferson not only knew all about the crime itself, but that
he was in all probability an actual participator in it. Whether his
part had been an active one and he had been present in the library at
the time, was impossible to say; probably not, Roger inclined to
think. But that he had helped to plan it and was now actively
concerned in endeavouring to destroy all traces of it was surely
beyond all disbelief. That meant one accomplice, at least, within the
house.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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