Crow's Inn Tragedy Read Online Free PDF Page B

comes before twelve he will have to wait until one o’clock as no one— no one is to disturb me until then. You understand this, Thompson?” He turned back sharply to his office.
    â€œQuite so, sir.”
    The managing clerk had a curious, puzzled look as he glanced after the principal. Amos Thompson had been many years with Messrs. Bechcombe and Turner, and it was said that he enjoyed Mr. Bechcombe’s confidence to the fullest degree. Be that as it may, it was evident that he knew nothing of the special business of this morning. He was a thin man of middle height with a reddish-grey beard, sunken-looking, grey eyes, like those of his principal usually concealed by a pair of horn-rimmed, smoke-coloured glasses; his teeth were irregular—one or two in front were missing. He had the habitual stoop of a man whose life is spent bending over a desk, and his faintly grey hair was already thinning at the top. As he went back to his desk both communicating doors in turn banged loudly behind Mr. Bechcombe. Instantly a change passed over his clerks; as if moved by one spring all the heads were raised, the pens slackened, most of them were thrown hastily on the desk.
    Percy Johnson, one of the articled pupils, emitted a low whistle.
    â€œWhat is the governor up to, Mr. Thompson?” he questioned daringly. “Casting the glad eye on some fair lady; not to be disturbed for an hour will give them plenty of time for—er—endearments.”
    Thompson turned his severe eyes upon him.
    â€œThis is neither the place nor the subject for such jokes, Mr. Johnson. May I trouble you to get on with your work? We are waiting for that deed.” Mr. Johnson applied himself to his labours afresh.
    â€œIt is nice to know that one is really useful!”
    The morning wore on. The two clients mentioned by Mr. Bechcombe—Mr. Geary and Mr. Pound—duly arrived and were shown in to Mr. Bechcombe, in each case remaining only a short time. Then there came a few minutes’ quiet. The eyes of the clerks wandered to the clock. At twelve o’clock the first batch of them would depart to luncheon.
    Amos Thompson’s thoughts were busy with his chief. Some very important business must be about to be transacted in Mr. Bechcombe’s private room, and the managing clerk, though usually fully cognizant of all the ins and outs of the affairs of the firm, had no notion what it might be. He would have been more or less than mortal if his speculations with regard to the mysterious visitor had not risen high. Just as the clock struck twelve there was a knock and ring at the outer door, and he heard a loud colloquy going on with the office boy. In a minute Tony Collyer came through into the clerks’ office. It showed the upset to the general aspect of the managing clerk’s ideas that he should go forward to meet him.
    â€œGood morning, Mr. Anthony. I am sorry that Mr. Bechcombe is engaged.”
    â€œSo am I,” said Tony, shaking him heartily by the hand. “Because I want to see him particularly and my time is limited this morning. But I suppose I must wait a bit. Get me in as soon as you can, there’s a good old chap!”
    Thompson shook his head.
    â€œIt won’t be any good your waiting this morning, Mr. Anthony. We have orders that no one is to disturb Mr. Bechcombe. It would be as much as my place is worth to knock at the door.”
    â€œAnd how much is your place worth, old boy?” Tony questioned with a laugh, at the same time bringing down his hand with friendly heartiness on the managing clerk’s back. “Come, I tell you I must see my uncle—honour bright, it is important.”
    â€œIt’s no use, Mr. Anthony,” Thompson said firmly. “You can’t see Mr. Bechcombe this morning. And, pardon me, but it may be as well in your own interests that you should wait until later in the day.”
    Anthony laughed.
    â€œWhat a quaint old bird you are,