Death on the Air Read Online Free PDF

was no answer I’d know they were all in bed and quiet. I did ring, got no answer, and went to bed myself. That’s all. I’m off. Curtis knows where to find me. You’ll want me for the inquest, I suppose. Goodbye.’
    When he had gone Alleyn embarked on a systematic prowl round the room. Fox and Bailey were still deeply engrossed with the wireless.
    â€˜I don’t see how the gentleman could have got a bump-off from the instrument,’ grumbled Fox. ‘These control knobs are quite in order. Everything’s as it should be. Look here, sir.’
    He turned on the wall switch and tuned in. There was a prolonged humming.
    â€˜â€¦concludes the programme of Christmas carols,’ said the radio.
    â€˜A very nice tone,’ said Fox approvingly.
    â€˜Here’s something, sir,’ announced Bailey suddenly.
    â€˜Found the sawdust, have you?’ said Alleyn.
    â€˜Got it in one,’ said the startled Bailey.
    Alleyn peered into the instrument, using the torch. He scooped up two tiny traces of sawdust from under the holes.
    â€˜Vantage number one,’ said Alleyn. He bent down to the wall plug. ‘Hullo! A two-way adapter. Serves the radio and the radiator. Thought they were illegal. This is a rum business. Let’s have another look at those knobs.’
    He had his look. They were the usual wireless fitments, bakelite knobs fitting snugly to the steel shafts that projected from the front panel.
    â€˜As you say,’ he murmured, ‘quite in order. Wait a bit.’ He produced a pocket lens and squinted at one of the shafts. ‘Yees. Do they ever wrap blotting paper round these objects, Fox?’
    â€˜Blotting paper!’ ejaculated Fox. ‘They do not.’
    Alleyn scraped at both the shafts with his penknife, holding an envelope underneath. He rose, groaning, and crossed to the desk. ‘A corner torn off the bottom bit of blotch,’ he said presently. ‘No prints on the wireless, I think you said, Bailey?’
    â€˜That’s right,’ agreed Bailey morosely.
    â€˜There’ll be none, or too many, on the blotter, but try, Bailey, try,’ said Alleyn. He wandered about the room, his eyes on the floor; got as far as the window and stopped.
    â€˜Fox!’ he said. ‘A clue. A very palpable clue.’
    â€˜What is it?’ asked Fox.
    â€˜The odd wisp of blotting paper, no less.’ Alleyn’s gaze travelled up the side of the window curtain. ‘Can I believe my eyes?’
    He got a chair, stood on the seat, and with his gloved hand pulled the buttons from the ends of the curtain rod.
    â€˜Look at this.’ He turned to the radio, detached the control knobs, and laid them beside the ones he had removed from the curtain rod.
    Ten minutes later Inspector Fox knocked on the drawing-room door and was admitted by Guy Tonks. Phillipa had gotthe fire going and the family was gathered round it. They looked as though they had not moved or spoken to one another for a long time.
    It was Phillipa who spoke first to Fox. ‘Do you want one of us?’ she asked.
    â€˜If you please, miss,’ said Fox. ‘Inspector Alleyn would like to see Mr Guy Tonks for a moment, if convenient.’
    â€˜I’ll come,’ said Guy, and led the way to the study. At the door he paused. ‘Is he – my father – still—?’
    â€˜No, no, sir,’ said Fox comfortably. ‘It’s all ship-shape in there again.’
    With a lift of his chin Guy opened the door and went in, followed by Fox. Alleyn was alone, seated at the desk. He rose to his feet.
    â€˜You want to speak to me?’ asked Guy.
    â€˜Yes, if I may. This has all been a great shock to you, of course. Won’t you sit down?’
    Guy sat in the chair farthest away from the radio.
    â€˜What killed my father? Was it a stroke?’
    â€˜The doctors are not quite certain. There will have to be a postmortem.’
    â€˜Good