Appleby and the Ospreys Read Online Free PDF Page A

glass of sherry in it before going into a dining-room. It was the kind of library, Appleby had noticed, that moved abruptly from eighteenth-century sermons to bound copies of Punch from 1841 onwards. A significant cultural, shift, Appleby had reflected. So, for that matter, was the invention of the safety razor – which had perhaps been furthered by the career of Sweeney Todd, the demon barber of Fleet Street.
    At this point in his wool-gathering Appleby became aware of a cyclist coming towards him. It was Mr Brackley, vicar of the bat-infested church. Brackley raised a hand as if in greeting – and then, as if on a second thought, rotated the hand in a manner suggesting a summons to stop. Appleby did so, and reversed a little. Brackley had dismounted.
    ‘Good morning, Sir John,’ he said. ‘I think you must be making your way to the big house?’ It was thus that Clusters must be spoken of locally.
    ‘Yes, Mr Brackley. I am.’
    ‘Then I think I ought to tell you–’
    ‘Yes, I know. Osprey has met a violent death, and his wife has asked me to come over. The poor lady is under some absurd misapprehension about my position in these parts. She supposes me to be, not exactly its chief constable, but at least its Dupin or Mycroft Holmes.’
    ‘Absurd, indeed.’ Brackley spoke dryly. ‘My own summons has been less idiosyncratic, but perhaps similarly tinged with oddity. I endeavoured to advance the comforts of religion, and I hope not wholly without effect. But the poor woman seemed to confuse me at times with the undertaker. Not that she isn’t sensible and collected, after a fashion. There is to be a quiet burial here, witnessed only by the family, and later a memorial service in town, conducted by members of the higher clergy, and in the presence of numerous persons of quality.’
    ‘That seems reasonable enough.’ Appleby had been aware of a certain acrid quality in Brackley’s speech. The Ospreys, he suspected, had been a little inclined to treat their vicar less as a beneficed clergyman than a domestic chaplain. ‘There’s something to be said for fixing one’s mind on such matters when in a state of shock. And the shock must have been horrific. To have one’s husband’s throat slit in his own house! Think of it, Brackley.’
    ‘Yes, indeed. The manner of the thing suggests a desperate malignity. Think of Laertes, Sir John.’
    ‘Laertes?’
    ‘Learning that Hamlet has killed his father, he is prepared to cut his throat in the church.’
    ‘It hasn’t been quite like that – has it? Not a church, but a library. So not even bats to witness the thing.’ Appleby was displeased at hearing himself produce this strained quip. ‘By the way,’ he continued abruptly, ‘do you happen to know where Osprey kept that collection of coins?’
    ‘I’ve no idea.’ Brackley’s features expressed surprise. ‘But Lady Osprey’s brother should know – Marcus Broadwater.’
    ‘He doesn’t – or he professes not to. I’ve just had an encounter with him, and I brought the matter up. He’s gone off fishing.’
    ‘Dear me! How slightly odd. Taking the thing, one may say, literally in his stride. I’m surprised the senior policeman up there – a fellow called Ringwood – let him go.’
    ‘Ringwood could do no more than make a request, and he was backed by a barrister called Quickfall. I’ve gathered most of the house-party – for there has been a small house-party, as you must have noticed – have stayed put. But Broadwater collected his gear and went off.’
    ‘Perhaps to think the thing out in solitude? Anglers, after all, are supposed to be given to meditating on the mutability of human affairs.’ Brackley paused for a moment on this. ‘Those coins,’ he then said abruptly. ‘Are you thinking that Lord Osprey’s death may have followed upon a robbery or burglary?’
    ‘It does seem to me a possibility. Clusters is, of course, full of what are called priceless things. But most of them are on