The Figure in the Dusk Read Online Free PDF Page B

notes.
    â€œYou’re very kind,” Mrs. Arlen repeated in a husky voice. “It’s so hard to—to understand. I can’t understand it.” She was being too emphatic again. He judged that she was an intelligent woman; and judged, also, that Nurse Deacon had been wrong: she was suffering from shock. It prevented her from being herself; she was showing her fear too easily. And he’d increased the shock; it was a part of his job he didn’t much like. He watched her dispassionately, and wondered what secrets she was hiding. “ Will you—speak to my sister?”
    â€œYes, of course. And until she arrives, I’ll have a nurse—”
    â€œI don’t need a nurse!”
    â€œI think you’d better have one for the next few hours,” said Roger. “You don’t want to overdo it. There’s your son to tell.”
    That went through her, as a knife; he could see the pain in her eyes.
    â€œHe must have some suspicion that there’s plenty wrong already,” Roger said, and the tone of his voice was deceptively mild. “He—”
    â€œYou mustn’t tell him!”
    Roger said: “Oh.”
    â€œI’m not being silly; you mustn’t, he mustn’t be told! He’s not strong, his heart—and he was passionately fond—of his father. If it hadn’t been for—”
    She broke off abruptly, and then turned her face away and began to cry. She sobbed wildly, trying to stifle the sound by burying her face in the pillow.
    Roger watched her, still dispassionately, then went to the door. Another police nurse was standing on the landing. “Come in, and bring your note-book,” he whispered, and went back to the bedside. There was no slackening in that burst of crying for several minutes, but at last she was quiet.
    Roger said: “I’m sorry, Mrs. Arlen, but you can’t keep news of this kind away from Peter.”
    â€œYou must!” she cried.
    â€œThe investigation might go on for weeks, we may even have to question him.”
    â€œNo!” She sat up, and glared at him. Her eyes were red and the lids puffy, her cheeks wet, her lips quivered and her body shook. “No, you wouldn’t be so cruel; not Peter. There’s no need to talk to Peter.”
    â€œWe won’t, if we can avoid it. It all depends on how much we find out without talking to him. Did you tell anyone else that your husband wasn’t home last night?”
    She didn’t answer.
    Roger shrugged. “I’m sorry, but we must know.”
    He wondered if the job were going to be easy. There were indications here of a carefully planned murder, followed by a burglary to cover it up. It wouldn’t be the first time that such plans went awry because one of the parties to it hadn’t the nerve to go on. She was distraught. Malby was sure she had been worried the night before, the nurse was sure there was something exceptional on her mind. He could see that she was trying to think, was bitterly angry with herself for her collapse, was trying to retain her self-control. Yes, she showed all the signs of guilt.
    He said abruptly: “Were you and Mr. Arlen happily married, Mrs. Arlen?”
    She almost screamed: “Yes!” and couldn’t have said “No” more clearly.
    â€œI see. Mr. Arlen had no friends, close personal friends, whom you didn’t know, I suppose?”
    â€œOf course he didn’t!” She should have said: “If I didn’t know them, how can I tell you?” but she wasn’t in a mood for logical thinking, and yet he sensed that once she had command of herself, she would be much more difficult to break down.
    â€œSure?”
    â€œHe wouldn’t, he—he had everything he wanted. Everything!”
    â€œThat’s good,” said Roger. “If you’ve nothing with which to reproach yourself, you’ll feel much better. I don’t think he had any