Case for Sergeant Beef Read Online Free PDF

returned to ‘Labour’s End’ on the Great Day. How could I be sure of this? My idea is simple, but very effective. Suppose a gun were fixed to the branch of a tree a little way into the wood, and a ball of thin strong string passed round the trigger. All I would need to do would be to pull the string while I actually remained at ‘Labour’s End.’ Complicated? Not a bit. The place for the gun would be about ten paces into the wood, far enough away for the report to come
from
the wood. I am quite sure Mrs Pluck could not gauge the actual distance. She would simply say she heard a shot in the wood. It must be in a straight line from the house – I don’t want my string passing over anything. As for the string – its length inside the wood is no problem at all – I could ‘lay’ it on the night before the murder. The length of string across the lawn would be another matter. That afternoon I would be planning and laying out flower-beds and have a line running right across from my window to the wood, marking the edge of a path or a bed, or whatever you please. When it grew dusk I would tie this line to the double ends of the string already round the trigger of the gun. I would remain in theJust as I was going away I picked up one of the woman’s shoes.
    â€˜That’s a big size,’ I said. ‘I wonder who wore those?’
    The curate’s sister seemed to enjoy the mild malice in her reply.
    â€˜Miss Shoulter,’ she whispered. ‘Huge feet. Haven’t you noticed?’
    â€˜No, I haven’t,’ I said with just a suggestion of rebuke in my voice. ‘I never notice that sort of thing.’
    But my head was singing with excitement. Now I shan’t even leave tracks on the Great Day. My feet will go into these easily and I’ll keep them in the wood ready. On the afternoon I’ll change into them for the task itself, then back into my own when it’s over. The police, if they manage to find any footprints, will only know that Miss Shoulter has been near the scene of the crime.
    So now I have defence in depth. The first line is suicide. The second Miss Shoulter. No one can even break through to my citadel. And there’s always Flipp who has the same kind of gun.
    Every day now I conscientiously take my walk in the afternoon with my gun. Now and again I get a rabbit and I’ve shot one pheasant already. I have met almost everybody in the course of these walks – Flipp and his wife, Miss Shoulter, the curate, the postman and a number of other people. Everyone knows that it’s the custom of that nice old gentleman Mr Chickle to take a stroll with his gun in the afternoon. Just as it should be.
Fourteenth Entry
    The chief problem now is that of getting hold of Miss Shoulter’s gun. So easy, and yet a matter for great care. A slip over that would be disastrous – not for my safety but for the success of the present scheme.
    She keeps it in the little front hall of her house. I consider that most reprehensible, really. A firearm is
not
a thing to leave lying about. But there it is, leant against the wall as though it were a walking-stick. All I have to do is to pickit up as I leave the house and walk away with it. No. one seeing me on my way back to ‘Labour’s End’ would find anything odd in it – indeed, it would be the most normal thing since they would not dream that it was not
my
gun. And if by any chance Miss Shoulter herself should see me, or miss the gun so soon after my call that its disappearance would seem connected with me – then all I have to do is to plead absent-mindedness. ‘How silly of me. I’m so accustomed to carrying a gun. Must have picked yours up by mistake.’
    I shall have to become very friendly with Miss Shoulter, though. On ‘popping-in’ terms. I shall have to make her so accustomed to my visits that she won’t even bother to see me out. That will