The Murder at the Vicarage Read Online Free PDF

anyone else who did so. There's not a soul in the world who's got a good
     word to say for him. I rather wonder the first Mrs. Protheroe didn't do him in. I met her
     once, years ago, and she looked quite capable of it. One of those calm dangerous women. He
     goes blustering along, stirring up trouble everywhere, mean as the devil, and with a
     particularly nasty temper. You don't know what Anne has had to stand from him. If I had a
     penny in the world I'd take her away without any more ado.”
    Then I spoke to him very earnestly. I begged him to leave St. Mary Mead. By remaining
     there, he could only bring greater unhappiness on Anne Protheroe than was already her lot.
     People would talk, the matter would get to Colonel Protheroe's ears Ñ and things would be
     made infinitely worse for her.
    Lawrence protested.
    “Nobody knows a thing about it except you, padre.”
    “My dear young man, you underestimate the detective instinct of village life. In St. Mary
     Mead every one knows your most intimate affairs. There is no detective in England equal to
     a spinster lady of uncertain age with plenty of time on her hands.”
    He said easily that that was all right. Every one thought it was Lettice.
    “Has it occurred to you,” I asked, “that possibly Lettice might think so herself.”
    He seemed quite surprised by the idea. Lettice, he said, didn't care a hang about him. He
     was sure of that.
    “She's a queer sort of girl,” he said. “Always seems in a kind of dream, and yet
     underneath I believe she's really rather practical. I believe all that vague stuff is a
     pose. Lettice knows jolly well what she's doing. And there's a funny vindictive streak in
     her. The queer thing is that she hates Anne. Simply loathes her. And yet Anne's been a
     perfect angel to her always.”
    I did not, of course, take his word for this last. To infatuated young men, their
     inamorata always behaves like an angel. Still, to the best of my observation, Anne had
     always behaved to her stepdaughter with kindness and fairness. I had been surprised myself
     that afternoon at the bitterness of Lettice's tone.
    We had to leave the conversation there, because Griselda and Dennis burst in upon us and
     said I was not to make Lawrence behave like an old fogy.
    “Oh! dear,” said Griselda, throwing herself into an arm?chair.
    “How I would like a thrill of some kind. A murder Ñ or even a burglary.”
    “I don't suppose there's any one much worth burgling,” said Lawrence, trying to enter into
     her mood. “Unless we stole Miss Hartnell's false teeth.”
    “They do click horribly,” said Griselda. “But you're wrong about there being no one worth
     while. There's some marvellous old silver at Old Hall. Trencher salts and a Charles II.
     Tazza Ñ all kinds of things like that. Worth thousands of pounds, I believe.”
    “The old man would probably shoot you with an army revolver,” said Dennis. “Just the sort
     of thing he'd enjoy doing.”
    “Oh! we'd get in first and hold him up,” said Griselda. “Who's got a revolver?”
    “I've got a Mauser pistol,” said Lawrence.
    “Have you? How exciting. Why do you have it?”
    “Souvenir of the war,” said Lawrence briefly.
    “Old Protheroe was showing the silver to Stone to?day,” volunteered Dennis. “Old Stone was
     pretending to be no end interested in it.”
    “I thought they'd quarrelled about the barrow,” said Griselda.
    “Oh! they've made that up,” said Dennis. “I can't think what people want to grub about in
     barrows for, anyway.”
    “That man Stone puzzles me,” said Lawrence. “I think he must be very absent?minded. You'd
     swear sometimes he knew nothing about his own subject.”
    “That's love,” said Dennis. “Sweet Gladys Cram, you are no sham. Your teeth are white and
     fill me with delight. Come fly with me, my bride to be. And at the Blue Boar, on the
     bedroom floor Ñ”
    “That's enough, Dennis,” I