Murders in, Volume 2 Read Online Free PDF Page B

Uncle’s!”
    â€œAnd she’s banking on the fact that the family won’t consult the police, and let them ask whether anybody saw her, or even circulate a description.”
    â€œHow I wish I could consult the police!” exclaimed Miss Vauregard, in a rage.
    â€œWhich brings us to the summing up.” Gamadge closed the books, and leaned forward to look his client firmly in the eye. “You don’t get all the implications of this affair.”
    â€œDon’t we?”
    â€œNo, you do not. Just go over these points with me: Miss Smith can’t face court proceedings—all she is out for, we suppose, is a free gift, made during your uncle’s lifetime. But it’s absurd to suppose that the gift could be a small one. Think of the elaborate preparations, the trouble, the huge risk. She didn’t merely have to assemble that costume; she has had to learn a long and difficult part, and act it many hours a day.
    â€œEvery hour of her sojourn in that house, especially since last Sunday, when the family was taken into Mr. Vauregard’s confidence, is fraught with danger to her now. Seven persons, including myself, know the arbor story—a lot of people to keep a secret—the whole business may leak out at any time. We have agreed that she wants publicity less even than you do. Why is she staying in that house? To get what she went for, of course; the moment she got it, she would disappear. But how could she be sure of getting it in time to go while the going was good? The more I think of it, the less can I see Miss Smith as a professional swindler, the member of a mob.”
    â€œBut she’s there, Mr. Gamadge, and it all happened.”
    Gamadge sat back, and gave his client an odd, rather helpless look. He said: “You still don’t see the grave implications.”
    Miss Vauregard seemed frightened. “There’s something more to be afraid of? Mr. Gamadge—surely she has no motive for harming Uncle?”
    â€œMy point is that we don’t know what her motives are, or what she really wants. Look here—I must see your uncle and Miss Smith, if possible, and talk to the rest of your family, before I take this job.”
    Theodore came in. “Young lady calling in a car,” he said. “Wants her aunt. Says not to disturb yourselves, she can wait.”
    â€œThat’s Clara. She’s going to drive us down to Traders Row.” Miss Vauregard rose, looking perplexed and uneasy. Gamadge went down with her, picking up his hat from the hall table as they left the house. Theodore saw them out of the front door, but did not immediately close it—he was evidently much interested in the neat little sedan that waited at the curb.

CHAPTER FOUR
“From a Friend”
    T HE OCCUPANT OF THE CAR was a large golden-red chow, which stood on the front seat with his head and shoulders out of the window. A young woman in riding clothes had taken up an easy position on the curb, and leaned against the car beside him, rubbing his head.
    â€œWell, darling,” said Miss Vauregard. “Did you see Ching?”
    â€œYes. She’s much worse, Aunt Robbie. I’m going back tonight. The vet thinks he may have to do it soon.”
    â€œOh dear. Mr. Gamadge, this is my niece, Clara Dawson; and this is Sun—his grandmother is very old, and she’s ill. We are all distressed about it.”
    â€œHow do you do, Mr. Gamadge?”said Miss Dawson. “Are you going to save Great-uncle Imbrie for us?”
    Gamadge had already taken a quick but comprehensive glance at her longish oval face, lightly tanned, with a flush on the cheekbones; at her wide forehead, short nose, and benign gray eyes. A brown riding hat came down low on her dark-brown hair, and a long, russet-brown coat hung loosely over dun-colored breeches and shining brown boots. Miss Dawson’s figure was still rangy; her riding costume became it.
    He thought: