Detective and mystery stories, English; English fiction -- 20th century; Short stories, English
"But it certainly was not 'all about it,' because several of the
servants at Meere Court who were asked at what time Mr. Clarke went
away that night, said that he must have gone very soon after five
o'clock. They all finished their tea about that time, and then the
gramophone was set going for dancing; they were quite sure that they
had not seen Mr. Clarke after that.
"On the other hand, Miss St. Jude said that the servants were
mistaken; they were far too deeply engrossed in their own amusements
to be at all reliable in their statements. As a matter of fact, Mr.
Clarke went away, as he said, at about seven o'clock; she herself had
danced with him most of the time, and said good-night to him in the
hall at a few minutes after seven.
"Here was a neat little complication, do you see--a direct conflict
of evidence at the very outset of this mysterious case. Can you
wonder that amateur detectives already shrugged their shoulders and
raised their eyebrows, declaring that the Hon. April St. Jude was
obviously in love with Arthur Clarke, and was trying to shield him,
well knowing that he had something to hide.
"Of course the police themselves were very reticent, but even they
could not keep people from gossiping. And gossip, I can assure you,
had enough and to spare to feed on. At first, of course, the crime
had seemed entirely motiveless. The deceased had not an enemy, or,
as far as that goes, many acquaintances in the world. In the drawer
of the desk, in the parlour, the sum of twenty pounds odd in notes
and cash were found, and in a little box by the side of the money
poor Mary Clarke's little bits of jewellery.
"But twenty-four hours later no one could remain in doubt as to the
assassin's purpose. You will remember that on the day following the
adjourned inquest there had arrived from the depths of Yorkshire an
old sister of the deceased, a respectable spinster, to whom Arthur
himself, it seems, had communicated the terrible news. She had come
to Barchester for the funeral. This elder Miss Clarke, Euphemia by
name, though she could not say much that was informative, did, at any
rate, throw light upon one dark passage in her sister's history.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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