Cry For the Baron Read Online Free PDF

away from them and hurried off, leaving the door wide open.
    Mannering said lightly: “You might like to swear on oath which door it was—I wouldn’t.”
    â€œIt was just about there,” said the constable.
    â€œAbout!” snorted Gordon.
    â€œIs that exactly what you saw?” asked Mannering. He watched the detective who had helped in the experiment come back and wait in the lighted doorway.
    â€œOh, yes,” the constable mumbled. “I suppose it could have been one of the other doors.”
    â€œI’ll go further. That wasn’t exactly what you saw.”
    The man snapped: “Oh, yes, it was!”
    â€œYou mean the girl left the door wide open? Didn’t she close it?”
    â€œDid she close it or didn’t she?” Gordon’s voice was thin and angry.
    â€œI only just happened to glance round,” said the constable aggrievedly. “There was no reason why I should expect trouble, the door was locked when I tried it a few minutes before. Yes, and it did shut after the girl, sir. The light only shone out for a second or two. I didn’t think of that, just now. I was concentrating on which door it was.”
    A car turned the corner of the street, its head-lamps shining on Mannering and the others as they walked back to Bernstein’s shop – and it glowed on the milk bottle and the fluffy cotton wool which rested on the bottom, there for anyone who chanced to look.
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    The newcomers were Superintendent Bristow and the police-surgeon. Bristow was a spruce, grey man; grey-haired, grey-clad, with a clipped grey moustache stained yellow in the centre with nicotine. He didn’t wear an overcoat, and a wilted gardenia drooped from his buttonhole. He nodded to Mannering, and led the way upstairs. The police-surgeon, stocky and pale-faced, got busy; Bristow and Gordon went to the safe. Mannering stood by the chair and the secret book. The effect of hiding the Tear astonished him. He felt as if he had just come through a spell of great exertion; was tired, yet still excited.
    Bristow glanced through the Will and turned to Mannering. His voice was brisk but friendly; perhaps deceptively friendly.
    â€œSo you know nothing about this Will, John?”
    â€œNot a thing.”
    â€œBernstein didn’t consult you?”
    â€œWhy should he?”
    â€œIt’s a custom, when you name an executor,” said Bristow dryly. “You and the Midday Bank —you’re going to have a nice time, sorting out this stuff! Quite sure you knew nothing about it?”
    Mannering said: “It would be a nice change if someone here believed me once in a while.”
    He joined the two Yard men and took the Will. Gordon looked as if he wanted to stop him, Bristow followed the sensible course; as an executor Mannering had every right to see the document. It was typed, easy to read, and quite short. There were three beneficiaries: the Jewel Merchant’s Benevolent Association; Lorna Mannering – and a name which Mannering didn’t see at first, it was over the page. Shock after shock: the first that he had been named as executor, the second that Bernstein had left anything to Lorna. The gift was characteristic of the old man; a pair of emerald ear-rings, which Lorna had seen and tried on when she had been to the shop two years ago.
    â€œThat was a nice thought,” he said.
    â€œHe was a nice old boy,” said Bristow. “But John—you’re not going to do it.”
    â€œDo what?”
    â€œTry to find out who killed him. That’s our job.”
    Mannering said: “We’ll see,” and then turned over the page, reading the final clause. Like the others, it was short and concise: “… the residue of my estate, in its entirety, is bequeathed without condition to Fay Marianna Goulden, daughter of Joshua and Maude Goulden … ”
    His fingers tightened on the Will, he continued to stare at it, but