Police at the Funeral Read Online Free PDF

Uncle Andrew didn’t. And he hasn’t come back yet. He’s simply vanished – there’s no sign of him. He can’t have gone off because he hasn’t any money. I know that, because he borrowed half-a-crown for the collection plate from Aunt Kitty, and great-aunt never lets him have much money anyway, because as soon as he gets it it goes to the bookmakers.’
    â€˜You can’t go by that,’ said Mr Campion helpfully. ‘He may have won something. People do sometimes.’
    â€˜Oh, but he hadn’t – not then!’ The girl spoke vehemently. ‘You see, that isn’t quite all the story. Great-aunt thinks that backing horses is not only wicked, but rather vulgar, which isslightly more important. So to save most furious rows all round we used to do all we could to keep Uncle Andrew’s little investments as quiet as possible; otherwise there was a dreadful scene. He used to lose his temper with great-aunt and sit snapping out mingy little digs at her until she got really riled and ordered him to his room as if he’d been a schoolboy. Then he had to go. It’s all rather shocking to you, I suppose,’ she added apologetically.
    â€˜Not at all,’ said Mr Campion politely. ‘Carry on.’
    â€˜Well, I usually go round the bedrooms every evening to see that Alice has turned down the beds properly. Of course she always has, but great-aunt likes me to go. When I went into Uncle Andrew’s room on Sunday night there were two or three letters on his table, ready stamped, waiting to be posted, and one half-written one that he had been at work on, I suppose, when the bell for church rang. So you see he couldn’t have meant to go off. You don’t go away and leave half your letters unposted and another unfinished. Anyway, I posted the letters that were sealed, and shut the blotting-pad over the other one. One of them was to his bookmaker. I didn’t notice the others. When he didn’t come back on Monday morning great-aunt was very stern and tight about the mouth. “Bad blood, Joyce,” she said to me. “No sense of personal discipline. Tell your Uncle Andrew to come to the drawing-room to see me the moment he arrives.” Aunt Julia and Aunt Kitty preserved a sedate silence most of the time. I believe Aunt Kitty did say something about “Poor wayward Andrew”, but Aunt Julia was down on her like a ton of bricks. Uncle William was consciously virtuous. I think he rather enjoys Uncle Andrew being away. He can be as pompous as he likes without getting a dig from Uncle Andrew to make him crumple up and look foolish. By the end of the week, of course, we were all rather alarmed, and on Sunday, Aunt Julia said something about going to the police and having an SOS or something broadcast if that could be arranged. But great-aunt was horrified and Uncle William backed her up. She said that Uncle Andrew couldn’t possibly have lost his memory, because no one even faintly connected with the Faradays ever had done such a thing. Aunt said she never had had the police in her house and never would, but that if Aunt Julia was reallyalarmed she could write round to all the other relatives and tactfully inquire if they’d seen Andrew. Aunt Kitty caused a mild sensation by saying she had already done that, on the Tuesday after Uncle Andrew had disappeared, and that no one appeared to have heard of him. So the matter was dropped for the time being.
    â€˜Then on Monday . . .’ – the girl was speaking faster now and her cheeks were very bright – ‘. . . two queer things happened. First of all there was a telegram for Uncle Andrew. Alice brought it straight to me because that was an arrangement Uncle Andrew had with us so that great-aunt shouldn’t know about the bookmaker. Any telegram that came when he was out used to be taken straight to me. I opened it, and it said: “Turkey Carpet won