Murder Is Come Again Read Online Free PDF

Pattle’s door but there was no answer. Raven stuck his nose out his door and said, “He’s not back yet, Black. Why are you rigged up like a villain?”
    Black did not deign to reply. “Are my night clothes laid out?”
    “Certainly they are. Will you need my assistance?”
    “Not tonight.” He was just as glad Mr. Pattle wasn’t back yet. He wanted to think over what had happened.
     

Chapter Five
     
    Black took breakfast with Prance and Coffen at the hotel the next morning and regaled them with the story of Mad Jack. Prance listened with keen interest to the tale of a ghost highwayman. Such a cunning rascal caught his fancy. He needed a new hero for his next novel. But a highwayman-hero? Would his public accept it? He’d have to be given a sympathetic background, and of course be a Robin Hood type highwayman, robbing from the rich to give to the poor. He would also require a lady love, his female fans expected it. The engraving business was proving such hard, messy labour that he had decided to just do the drawings and let a professional do the brute work. Perhaps Murray would handle that end of it. He published other books with illustrations.
    “I would like to go with you next time, Black, and see this wonder for myself,” he said.
    Black knew better than to take this dandy to the Brithelmston and was happy to inform him, “It may not be for another month. Mad Jack doesn’t hold up a coach every night.”
    “Pity. If you find out how he works it, do let me know.”
    “Sounds like a ghost to me,” Coffen said, and lit into his gammon and eggs.
    “Ghosts are a figment of the imagination,” Prance informed him.
    “You told me I don’t have any imagination,” Coffen said.
    “It seems I was mistaken.”
    “You admit it’s a ghost then,” Coffen said, satisfied that he’d won that argument, and spoke on before Prance could quibble. He was a very persistent quibbler. “You haven’t forgotten we’re showing the house to that Mrs. Filmore today, Black?” he said.
    “Three-thirty this afternoon. I’ll be there. Will you be exercizing the grays this morning?”
    “Certainly.”
    “Let us take a spin out the Dyke Road,” Black said, thinking to locate the various dives he had heard of last night.
    Prance said, “If you plan to jeopardize the traffic on Dyke Road, then I shall see what delights the shops have on offer.”
    Coffen was finding the team harder to handle than he had imagined, and after driving for less than an hour he was so fagged he had to hand the reins to Black for the return trip. Black was happy with the drive. He had located the various places Catchpole had recommended. When they returned, they found the hotel had no more letters from parties interested in purchasing Coffen’s house.
      Prance found a book store that pleased him, bought a copy of Hogarth’s engravings of The Rake’s Progress and settled in at a coffee shop to study them for ideas for his own sketches. Luten and Corinne spent a leisurely morning leaving cards at various houses and visiting the friends who were already in town.
    At three-thirty Black and Coffen were at the house on Nile Street to meet the potential buyer. Mrs. Filmore was just the sort of woman Coffen liked. Pretty, with blond curls and blue eyes, her bonnet festooned with flowers and bows, like her elaborate gown. He liked his steaks and women well-marbled, and Mrs. Filmore fulfilled that requirement as well. Coffen had no success with ladies, but was a great favourite with working women - maids, seamstresses, and especially actresses. She came mincing forward with a smile.
    “I’m Mrs. Filmore, here about buying your house,” she said. Her low décolletage made no secret of her female charms when she made a deep curtsey. Black feared her charms would escape her gown entirely.
    Coffen leapt to his feet and made a bow. “Mr. Pattle, at your service, madam,” he said, with a foolish smile on his face.
    “Mind you, I don’t have a great