Detective and mystery stories; Villages -- England -- Fiction
“No. But Siddle has had one, eh? Don’t be vexed. I’m not tricking you
into revealing post office secrets. I knew she was dying, and, when I
saw your father take a message to the chemist’s shop I simply made an
accurate guess.... Now, I’m going to scare you, purposely and of malice
aforethought, because I want you to be a good little girl, and obey
orders. Mrs. Siddle, senior, now happily deceased, was an epileptic
lunatic of a peculiarly dangerous type. She suffered from what is
classed by the doctors as _furor epilepticus_, a form of spasmodic
insanity not inconsistent with a high degree of bodily vigor and long
periods of apparently complete mental saneness. Now, if I were not
speaking to one who has shared her father’s studies in bee-life, I
would not introduce the subject of heredity. But _you_ know, Miss
Martin, that such racial characteristics are transmitted, or
transmissible, I should say, by sex opposites. Thus, an epileptic
mother is more likely to give her taint to a son than to a daughter....
Yes, I mean all that, and more,” he went on, seeing the look of horror,
not unmixed with fear, in Doris’s eyes. “There must be no more
irritating of Siddle, or playing on his feelings—by you, at any rate.
Treat him gently. If he insists on making love to you, be as firm as
you like in a non-committal way. I mean, by that, an entire absence on
your part of any suggestion that you are repulsing him because of a
real or supposed preference for any other man.”
“Do you want me to believe that he is liable to attack me?” demanded
the girl, her naturally courageous spirit coming to her aid.
“I do,” said Furneaux, speaking with marked earnestness.
“Yet you ask me to endure his company if he chooses to force himself on
me?”
“For a few days.”
“But it may be a few years?”
“No. That is not to be thought of. Leave it to me to devise a way.
Besides, you need not allow him so many opportunities that the strain
would become unbearable. You are busy, owing to the certain increase of
work brought about by this murder. Your time will be greatly occupied.
But, don’t render him morbidly suspicious. For instance, no more
dinners at _The Hollies_. No more gadding about by night, if you hear
weird noises on the other side of the river. And you must absolutely
deny yourself the pleasurable excitement of Mr. Grant’s company.”
“You are carrying a warning to its extreme limit.”
“Exactly.”
“And am I to keep this knowledge to myself?”
“In whom would you confide?”
“My father, of course.”
“I know you better,” and the detective’s voice took on a profoundly
serious note. “Your father would never admit that what he knows to be
true of bees is equally true of humanity. You can trust the police to
keep a pretty sharp eye on Siddle, of course, but the present is a
strenuous period, both for us and for people with maniacal tendencies,
so accidents may happen.”
“You have distressed me immeasurably,” said the girl, striving to
pierce the mask of that inscrutable face.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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