Mrs. Jeffries in the Nick of Time Read Online Free PDF

down to have a look at the railway guide?”
    “That’s possible, sir. We’ll ask the household if the victim was planning a trip anywhere.” Barnes picked up the green leather notebook, opened the pages and scanned the contents. “This is a logbook. The last entry was yesterday at 3:09.” He paused for a long moment as he read the contents. “Apparently, our victim was a real enthusiast, sir. He’s noted every engine number for the 3:09 going back the past two years. Strange, isn’t it, sir, what some people enjoy doing as a pastime.”
    Witherspoon was a bit of a train enthusiast himself. “Trains are very interesting.”
    Barnes tossed the logbook back on the desk and walked to the double French doors. He tried the handle. “It’s locked.”
    “Yes, but was it locked after the shooting or has it been locked all day?” Witherspoon murmured. “That’s the question.” He’d no idea what to think. The poor fellow was dead, the constables had searched the premises for the murder weapon and found nothing, and, except for the servants, everyone in the household had been downstairs.
    “Should we do a house-to-house?” Barnes asked.
    “Yes, perhaps we’ll find a witness who saw or heard something.”
    “Too bad this property is so far away from the nearest neighbor.” Barnes frowned. “Do you hear that, sir? It sounds like a train.” He unlocked the door and stepped out onto the terrace.
    Witherspoon followed him, coming outside into the cold evening air just as a freight train rattled past at the bottom of the long garden. “Good gracious, this house backs onto a railway line.”
    “The Great Western,” Barnes muttered. “Now this is odd, sir. Why would someone as wealthy as Francis Humphreys want to build his house right next to the Great Western Railway Line? Most rich people get as far away from noise and inconvenience as possible.”
    “He liked trains.” Witherspoon went back inside, stopping just on the other side of the door frame. “This is where the killer must have stood.”
    “Which means whoever did the murder must have been a good shot,” Barnes said softly from behind him. “It’s at least twenty-five feet between here and the victim. Most people aren’t that accurate with a pistol, sir.”
    “Maybe the murder weapon wasn’t a pistol,” Witherspoon suggested. Immediately he wished he could take the comment back. “Oh yes, I see what you mean, a rifle or a shotgun would have blown the poor fellow’s head off.”
    Constable Bishop stuck his head into the room. “Dr. Amalfi’s hansom has just pulled up, sir?”
    “We’re through here, so we’ll get out of his way. Do you know where the body will be taken once the surgeon has completed his examination?”
    “St. Mary’s in Paddington, sir,” Bishop replied. “They’ve got the mortuary contract for this area.”
    “We may as well start taking statements, Constable,” Witherspoon said. He gave the victim one last look as he walked toward the doorway to the hall. “There’s nothing else we can do for this poor man except find his killer.”
    “Shall I start belowstairs, sir?” Barnes inquired as they came out onto the landing and started down the stairs. “I’d like to get the servants’ statements while it’s still fresh in their minds.”
    “Good idea, I’ll just go along to the drawing room and see if I can find a family member—” He broke off as he saw Annabelle Prescott step into the hallway. “Miss Prescott,” he began.
    “It’s Mrs. Prescott,” she corrected softly.
    “Oh dear, I am sorry. Mrs. Prescott, if it’s not too dreadful for you, we’d like to take your statements. With your permission, Constable Barnes would like to have a word with the servants.”
    “Certainly. I’ll have Imogene show him downstairs.” She went back into the drawing room for a moment and came back with a younger, dark-haired woman. “This is Imogene Ross, my cousin. She’ll take the constable downstairs to the