The Classic Mystery Collection - Arthur Conan Doyle [177]
'You were secretary to Mr. Manderson, I believe,' said Trent. He was much inclined to like young Mr. Marlowe. Though he seemed so near a physical breakdown, he gave out none the less that air of clean living and inward health that is the peculiar glory of his social type at his years. But there was something in the tired eyes that was a challenge to Trent's penetration; an habitual expression, as he took it tobe, of meditating and weighing things not present to their sight. It was a look too intelligent, too steady and purposeful, to be called dreamy. Trent thought he had seen such a look before somewhere. He went on to say: 'It is a terrible business for all of you. I fear it has upset you completely, Mr. Marlowe.'
'A little limp, that's all,' replied the young man wearily. 'I was driving the car all Sunday night and most of yesterday, and I didn't sleep last night after hearing the news--who would? But I have an appointment now, Mr. Trent, down at the doctor's--arranging about the inquest. I expect it'll be tomorrow. If you will go up to the house and ask for Mr. Bunner, you'll find him expecting you; he will tell you all about things and show you round. He's the other secretary; an American, and the best of fellows; he'll look after you. There's a detective here, by the way--Inspector Murch, from Scotland Yard. He came yesterday.'
'Murch!' Trent exclaimed. 'But he and I are old friends. How under the sun did he get here so soon?'
'I have no idea,' Mr. Marlowe answered. 'But he was here last evening, before I got back from Southampton, interviewing everybody, and he's been about here since eight this morning. He's in the library now--that's where the open French window is that you see at the end of the house there. Perhaps you would like to step down there and talk about things.'
'I think I will,' said Trent. Marlowe nodded and went on his way. The thick turf of the lawn round which the drive took its circular sweep made Trent's footsteps as noiseless as a cat's. In a few moments he was looking in through the open leaves of the window at the southward end of the house, considering with a smile a very broad back and a bent head covered with short grizzled hair. The man within was stooping over a number of papers laid out on the table.
' 'Twas ever thus,' said Trent in a melancholy tone, at the first sound of which the man within turned round with startling swiftness. 'From childhood's hour I've seen my fondest hopes decay. I did think I was ahead of Scotland Yard this time, and now here is the hugest officer in the entire Metropolitan force already occupying the position.'
The detective smiled grimly and came to the window. 'I was expecting you, Mr. Trent,' he said. 'This is the sort of case that you like.'
'Since my tastes were being considered,' Trent replied, stepping into the room, 'I wish they had followed up the idea by keeping my hated rival out of the business. You have got a long start, too--I know all about it.' His eyes began to wander round the room. 'How did you manage it? You are a quick mover, I know; the dun deer's hide on fleeter foot was never tied; but I don't see how you got here in time to be at work yesterday evening. Has Scotland Yard secretly started an aviation corps? Or is it in league with the infernal powers? In either case the Home Secretary should be called upon to make a statement.'
'It's simpler than that,' said Mr. Murch with professional stolidity. 'I happened to be on leave with the missus at Haley, which is only twelve miles or so along the coast. As soon as our people there heard of the murder they told me. I wired to the Chief, and was put in charge of the case at once. I bicycled over yesterday evening, and have been at it since then.'
'Arising out of that reply,' said Trent inattentively, 'how is Mrs. Inspector Murch?'
'Never better, thank you,' answered the inspector, 'and frequently speaks of you and the games you used to have with our kids.