Some Must Watch by Ethel Lina White (top 10 motivational books TXT) 📖

CHAPTER XIII

MURDER

 

The news stunned Helen with such a shock of horror that she felt herself

rock, while the house seemed to sway with her, in the wind. When she was

stationary again, she realized that the entire family had gathered in

the hall, andwas listening, with strained attention, to Dr. Parry.

 

“She was strangled,” he said.

 

“When?” asked the Professor.

 

“Impossible to tell within an hour or so. But I should say, roughly,

about five or six o’clock.”

 

“Strangled,” repeated Miss Warren. “Is it—the same kind of murder as the

others?”

 

“Definitely,” replied the doctor. “Only more ferocious. Ceridwen was a

strong girl, and she put up a fight, which enraged him.” “Then”—Miss

Warren’s face wavered painfully—“if she was murdered in Captain Bean’s

garden, the maniac was quite close to us.”

 

“Closer than that,” said the doctor. “The murder was actually committed

in the plantation.”

 

A gasp of horror sobbed from Miss Warren’s lips, while

Simone grasped Stephen’s arm. Even in the midst of her own terrible

excitement, Helen noticed that Mrs. Newton was alive to the amatory

possibilities of the situation, while her husband watched her with

contracted eyes.

 

She felt herself slipping away on a back-wash of recent memories. While

she stood, defenceless and stranded, staring at the stronghold of the

Summit, across a bowl of empty country, she was even then in the company

of Murder. All the time it was creeping nearer—unseen, unheard. She

might even have passed close to It, while It hid in the undergrowth of

the gulley.

 

But It had smelt her out—marked her down. It knew that she would have to

come, and It waited for her, in the plantation, in evil mimicry of a

tree.

 

“What a wonderful escape,” she thought.

 

Now that the danger was over, she could almost exult in the adventure,

were it not for the reminder that the tree had not been cheated of its

ultimate prey. The thought of poor Ceridwen, going light-heartedly to a

horrible fate, made her feel faint.

 

When the mist had cleared from her eyes, it was a relief to notice that

the Professor’s face showed no sign of emo tion. As he spoke in his

habitual pedantic tones, she felt removed from a dark quivering

landscape—split to reveal lightning glimpses of hell—and back in the

comfortable interior of an English home.

 

“How do you establish your fact that this murder was committed in the

plantation?” he asked.

 

“Because there were pine-needles in her clenched hands, and her clothing

showed signs of having been dragged through a hedge… Of course, it

is useless to try to follow the impulses of a distressed brain; but it

seems rum to have taken such an unnecessary precaution. The body could

easily have lain, undiscovered, in the plantation, for many hours.”

 

“And it might not,” remarked the Professor. “You can depend on it, there

was some basic idea behind the seeming absurdity.”

 

His son, who shared his dislike of their eccentric neighbor, gave a

chuckle. “Bean must have had a startling homecoming,” he said. “A corpse

propped up on his doorstep, to let him in.”

 

“He was a bit upset.” Dr. Parry spoke coldly. “It was a nasty shock for

a man of his age. Sudden death is not really amusing—least of all, to

the victim.”

 

His dark eyes flashed angrily over the stolid faces of the young men,

and Simone’s vermilion lips-parted eagerly as though to sip sensation.

 

“I don’t want to alarm you people,” he said. “No, that’s a lie. I do

want to alarm you. Thoroughly. I want you all to realize that there is a

criminal lunatic at large, who has tasted blood, and will probably lust

for more. And he’s somewhere near quite close to you.”

 

“Will—will he try to break in here?” quavered Miss Warren.

 

“Don’t give him a chance. I take it for granted that the Professor will

insist on everyone remaining in the house. It goes without saying that

you will lock every door and window. Don’t underdo your

precautions—however ridiculous they may appear.”

 

“I have seen to all that. Ever since the—the governess,” Miss Warren

told him.

 

“Good. It takes a clever woman to realize danger, and her

responsibilities towards her juniors. You’ll be all right. Oates, alone,

could account for the chap, with one hand, if he should happen along.”

 

Again Helen was assailed by that odd pang of desolation as she listened

to the Professor’s explanation of Oates’ absence. She felt strangely

depressed, too, by the thought that Dr. Parry would soon be gone.

 

His practical, cheerful personality seemed to reduce even murder to its

proper proportions. It was an unnatural evil, which could be guarded

against by natural means—which would prevail, since the defense was so

much more powerful than the attack.

 

He presented an uncouth figure in contrast with the other men, who were

all in immaculate evening-dress, but when he caught her eye and smiled

at her, she knew, instinctively, that he could inspire both affection

and trust.

 

Some bright elusive vision quivered before her eyes, filling her with

happiness and hope. She felt she was on the verge of some discovery. But

before she could collect her thoughts the doctor had turned to go.

 

“I must push off,” he said cheerfully. “Professor. I know you understand

the importance of all the men staying in tonight to protect these two

girls.”

 

His glance included Simone, who responded with an alluring smile.

 

“Peter,” she said, leaning her chin on the Professor’s shoulder, “you’re

not going to let the doctor go without offering him a drink.”

 

Before the doctor could refuse the unspoken invitation,

 

Helen stepped into the breach. “I’ve some coffee, downstairs,” she said.

“Shall I bring some up?”

 

“The very thing,” remarked the doctor. “But may I comedown and dry off a

bit while I mop it up?”

 

Helen could not resist a feeling of triumph over Simone, as Dr. Parry

clattered after her, down the kitchen stairs. While Simone’s man strained

at his chain, she had hers coasting in her wake.

 

Her sitting-room looked even more cheerful and restful when Dr. Parry

sat opposite to her, gulping coffee from a huge breakfast cup.

 

“What are you beaming about?” he asked abruptly.

 

“I ought not to,” she said apologetically. “This is all so terrible.

But—it is living. And I’ve done so very little of that.”

 

“What have you done?” he asked.

 

“Housework. Sometimes, with children thrown-in.”

 

“Yet you keep your tail up?”

 

“Of course. You never know what’s just round the corner.”

 

Dr. Parry frowned.

 

“Have you never heard that ‘Curiosity killed the cat’?” he asked. “I

suppose, if you saw a smoking bomb, you’d feel bound to examine its

fuse?”

 

“Not if I knew it was a bomb,” explained Helen. “But I wouldn’t know if

it was, until I’d found out.”

 

“And must you find out?” “Yes, you must—if you’re me.”

 

“I give you up.” Dr. Parry groaned. “Haven’t you enough wit to realize

that their’s a human tiger waiting to turn you into—what’s left of

Ceridwen. If you’d seen what I’ve just seen—”

 

“Oh, don’t,” wailed Helen, her face suddenly pinched.

 

“But I want to frighten you. This sort of lunatic is usually normal in

between his fits…of mania. He might be living in this house with you,

and you’d accept him, just as you accept—young Rice or the Professor.”

 

Helen shuddered.

 

“Might it be a woman?” she asked.

 

“No, unless she was abnormally strong.”

 

“In any case, I should be bound to know.”

 

“No, that is the paralyzing part of it,” insisted the doctor. “Just

imagine the horror of seeing a friendly face-like my own—suddenly

change into an unfamiliar mask—with murder glaring out of its eyes?”

 

“Are you trying to tell me someone in this house committed all the

murders?” Helen asked. “Well, I’d take on anyone here, except Oates. He

would be awful, if he turned inside out. A sort of King Kong.”

 

Dr. Parry lost his temper.

 

“You’re