Jack on the Gallows Tree Read Online Free PDF Page B

fingerprints to speak of on the car, but then people naturally have worn gloves during recent weather. Charlie Carew admits to having driven with his aunt several times lately, though; also the Baxeters and once Martha Tissot, though she has got her own car, as I told you. That’s about the lot, Carolus. See any wood for trees?”
    â€œNot really, I’m afraid.”
    â€œWe’re rather inclined to think it’s a maniac. In that case there’s always anxiety about another possible murder. Heaven knows there are plenty of elderly women in this town, and one’s apt to wonder which will be found holding lilies.”
    â€œIs there
nothing
to connect the two murders?”
    â€œYou can imagine that we’ve tried pretty hard to find something. Certain tradesmen serve the two, but I don’t think they had any mutual acquaintances. There is one thing which I’ll tell you, for what it’s worth. They had both sold some gold recently to a gold-clapper called Maurice Ebony.”
    â€œWhat’s a gold-clapper?”
    â€œYou’re not much up in anything but murder, are you, Carolus? You should have more all-round experience. A gold-clapper is a man who runs round on the knock buying gold from private houses. He has a good many tricks and fiddles, but there’s not much we can do about it. A week or so before these murders Ebony, who is a London man andin quite a big way, was working this district. He has a woman runner who makes his appointments for him, a very attractive girl called Moira Long. She got in to see the Baxeters and Ebony bought some stuff from them. While he was doing so Sophia Carew came in and was persuaded to sell him some old-fashioned jewellery. On the following day Moira Long called at Rossetti Lodge and Ebony had what he describes as a gobble. It’s probably entirely irrelevant, but it’s the only small link we can find between the two households.”
    â€œHe must have bought a lot more in Buddington, though?”
    â€œNot so much as you’d think. This place is a natural for gold-clappers and has been worked over again and again. Now, Carolus, you can get the old brain working and if you have any of your improbable ideas you might let me know. We shall go on in our plodding way, of course.”
    â€œAll right, John. Come and see me again, won’t you?”

4
    F OR the next three days Carolus found himself, in common with the other guests at the Royal Hydro, severely cut by Miss Tissot. Before lunch he would approach her but found that she was immersed in a novel by Charles Morgan and did not look up as he passed. When tea was served in the lounge she appeared to concentrate on her cup if Carolus was near, and although before dinner she made her appearance in a dress such as a Court governess might wear if she was to be present at a state dinner-party, she refused to let Carolus catch her eye.
    He had so much recovered during those three days, however, that on the fourth he decided mischievously to put a stop to Miss Tissot’s frigid unawareness of him. Taking his newspaper he reached the lounge earlier than usual and settled himself in Miss Tissot’s chair. Then he opened his paper and appeared to be lost in it. He felt rather than saw the old lady’s approach, but when she spoke it was without any hesitation or ambiguity.
    â€œYou have taken my seat again. The first time it may have been a stupid blunder—this is insolence.”
    Carolus rose at once with a smile.
    â€œNo, intrigue,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you.”
    Miss Tissot made no reply as she sat down and opened
Sparkenbroke.
    â€œWhat a
bore
Charles Morgan was,” said Carolus rudely. “Or don’t you think?”
    â€œOne can tell by his books that he was a gentleman,” said the old lady, fiercely and truthfully.
    â€œMiss Tissot, do you want to know who murdered your cousin?”
    â€œI want to know as little as