The Last Drive Read Online Free PDF Page B

finally observed, breaking into speech all at once. “I know why you thought there was nothing to be done over there. But—well—it seems preposterous. Fred? Harry? Mawson? Why, it’s preposterous!”
    The detective turned from his contemplation of the clock.
    â€œIf you know what I think you know more than I do,” he said at last, slowly. “And you do as a matter of fact know more than I do. That’s why I want to talk to you. But certain conclusions are inevitable. We know how the Colonel was killed. A tiny arrow or steel needle cannot be sent from any considerable distance. From the fifth tee to the spot where the Colonel fell there is no shrubbery anywhere, nothing that could have served as a hiding place for the murderer. That is certain. Then it is equally certain that the murderer was not hidden. He was there, and he was not hidden. The caddies are out of the question. They were the two Simpson boys, Jimmie Marks and Joe, the West Indian Fred spoke of. Absurd to suspect any of them. That leaves only the members of the foursome. First the Colonel himself. Suicide must be considered, though the circumstances render it highly improbable. You were his friend and physician for thirty years. You knew him more intimately than anyone else. Your opinion?”
    â€œCarson Phillips did not kill himself,” declared the doctor with conviction. “There was absolutely no reason—I knew every detail of his life—and besides, he wasn’t the man to sneak out of a thing. No.”
    â€œThen the other three are left. The thought is repugnant to us. Admitted. Also, the hypothesis is difficult. It seems impossible that the thing could have been done without attracting notice. They all swear nothing unusual occurred. Can they be in league? I dismiss that as incredible. Then it was done, somehow, without attracting notice. How? And by whom? There motive enters. But the point is, how? If only I had been in that foursome! The blowpipe is out of the question as requiring extraordinary skill. There was some devilish trick somewhere.
    â€œYou know,” said the doctor slowly, “it’s my opinion you’re on the wrong track, Rankin. I can’t believe—”
    â€œIt’s the only open track,” the detective retorted. “No other way to turn. Disagreeable as it is, we must follow it. There’s one other thing I haven’t spoken of.—Hello! What’s up?”
    As he spoke the whirring of an engine had made itself heard, and now, through the window, an automobile, the one that had brought them to Greenlawn, was seen to turn about on the drive outside and head for the outer gate with a sudden leap forward. Fred Adams was at the wheel. An instant later Harry appeared on one of the gravel paths at the edge of the garden.
    Doctor Wortley, who had joined Rankin near the window, threw it open to call to the young man:
    â€œWhat’s up, Harry? Where’s Fred going?”
    â€œDown to Morton’s,” came the reply. There was a touch of disapproval in the tone. “Said he’d be right back in case you asked for him.”
    The doctor had closed the window again before Rankin’s query came:
    â€œMorton’s? Where’s that?”
    â€œOver west a few miles,” replied the doctor. “There’s a girl. Dora Morton. Rather odd he should run off there just now.”

    â€œI know you have charge of this thing, Mr. Rankin, but I must say that I don’t see why you run away from it.”

    Something in the tone caused the other to pursue the inquiry.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œWhy—Carson didn’t approve of her. There’s been a quiet sort of row on about it for some time. She’s a daughter of Morton the cheese man, and well—Carson’s ideas were somewhat aristocratic, you know. I believe he even threatened to disinherit Fred if he didn’t give her up.”
    â€œAh, I see,” said the