Case with No Conclusion Read Online Free PDF Page A

moment. “Well, first of all he came out with me,” she said, “and then when he saw I was all right he called out for Duncan, and went back in.”
    â€œDid Duncan come straight away?”
    â€œI passed him on the stairs as I went down to the kitchen.”
    â€œNow, there’s just one more question I want to ask you,” said Beef, leaning forward over the table. “Have you any idea what Mr. Stewart was doing all that day?”
    â€œHe went out soon after breakfast,” said the girl, “and didn’t come home again till about half-past six, when he went straight upstairs to change. After that he sat and waited for the gentlemen to come.”
    â€œIn the library?”
    â€œNo, he sat in the drawing-room.”
    â€œSo he never went into the library at all that day?”
    â€œNo, not after he had Wilson in there in the morning.”
    â€œAll right,” said Beef, “that’s all.” Then as the girl turned to go an idea seemed suddenly to strike him. “By the way,” he said, “what’s your name?”
    â€œRose,” answered the girl, but gave no surname.
    Then, as she turned to the door again, Beef leaned forward and quickly picked a cushion off the settee.
    â€œHere,” he said, “what’s this?”
    On the side of the cushion were two long parallel lines of dark red; obviously blood.
    â€œI don’t know,” said Rose, “I hadn’t noticed it before.”
    I took the cushion from Beef and examined it. It was evident that a knife had been wiped on it.

Chapter IV
    D ON’T you think,” said Peter Ferrers, “that the butler would be the person whose information would be most likely to help you?”
    â€œI don’t know,” said Beef slowly; “I never much cared for butlers. I’ve noticed there’s nearly always one of them around when a murder’s been committed, though. Well, I suppose we’d better have him in.”
    I was disappointed in Duncan. I had hoped for something new in butlers. A one-eyed butler, or a little loud-voiced butler, would have been a change, but Duncan was painfully in the tradition. By conforming to type, I felt resentfully, he would make my task of narrating the case as something pithy and original, far more difficult. True he had some odd habits with his artificial teeth, but these could scarcely be considered startling enough to provide the “copy” I required. He clicked them and made them jump in his mouth, then, apparently with his tongue, dislodged the plate, so that two teeth jumped out on you as you watched, then disappeared again like small white rabbits down a burrow. But his tall, grotesquely thin figure and cadaverous yellow face, his long bony fingers and narrow bald head reminded me all too plainly of Suspect Number Three in a dozen films and stories.
    â€œDuncan,” said Peter Ferrers in a gentle and kindly voice, “these two gentlemen are making an independent investigation of the case in the hope of proving that Mr. Stewart is innocent. I want you to tell them all you can.”
    Duncan seemed startled. Indeed, his thin eyebrows were lifted as though he were permanently surprised, forever expecting a shock.
    â€œCertainly, Mr. Peter. Whatever little I know,” he said.
    â€œDid you serve the dinner?” asked Beef, breaking in on this with characteristic clumsiness.
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œHow was their appetites?”
    â€œAbout as usual, sir. Mr. Stewart never ate a great deal, but Doctor Benson was hearty at the table.”
    â€œAnd what was they talking about over dinner?”
    â€œPolitics, most of the time. Mr. Wakefield did most of the talking.”
    â€œAny arguments?”
    â€œDiscussion, sir, I should call it. Mr. Stewart was never much in agreement with Mr. Wakefield’s ideas, which were apt to veer towards the Socialistic a little.”
    â€œYou mean he was a