What a Carve Up! Read Online Free PDF

grabbing whatever weapons came to hand. Grunting with the exertion, shouting and calling each other names. She barely had time to slip into her dressing-gown and turn on the bedroom light when she heard a long and terrible cry, far louder than the rest. Lights were going on all over Winshaw Towers by now and she could hear people running in the direction of the disturbance. But Rebecca stayed where she was, paralysed with fear. She had recognized that cry, even though she had never heard anything like it before. It was the sound of a man dying.
    ∗
    Two days later, the following story appeared in the local newspaper:
Attempted Burglary at Winshaw Towers
Lawrence Winshaw in fight to the death with intruder
THERE WERE dramatic scenes at Winshaw Towers on Saturday night when a family celebration was tragically disrupted.
Fourteen guests had gathered to mark the fiftieth birthday of Mortimer Winshaw, younger brother of Lawrence – who is now the owner of the 300-year-old mansion. But soon after they had gone to bed, a man broke into the house in a daring burglary attempt which was shortly to cost him his life.
The intruder seems to have entered the house through the library window, which is normally kept securely locked. He then forced his way into Lawrence Winshaw’s bedroom, where a violent altercation ensued. Finally, acting entirely in his own defence, Mr Winshaw got the better of his assailant and dealt him a fatal blow to the skull with the copper-headed backscratcher which he always keeps by his bedside. Death was instantaneous.
Police have not yet been able to identify the attacker, who does not appear to have been a local man, but they are satisfied that burglary was the motive behind the break-in. There is no question, a spokesman added, of charges being preferred against Mr Winshaw, who is said to be in a state of deep shock following the incident.
The investigation will continue and readers of this newspaper can expect to be brought up to date with every development.
    ∗
    On Sunday morning, the day after his birthday party, Mortimer found his loyalties divided. Family sentiment, or what little residue of it continued to lurk inside him, insisted that he should stay with his brother and help him to recover from his ordeal; but at the same time, Rebecca’s anxiety to leave Winshaw Towers and return to their Mayfair apartment as soon as possible could not be disguised. It was not, in the end, a difficult decision to make. He could never deny his wife anything; and besides, there remained a whole army of relatives who could safely be trusted with the task of helping Lawrence to recuperate. By eleven o’clock their cases were gathered in the hall waiting to be carried out to the silver Bentley, and Mortimer was preparing to pay his final respects to Tabitha, who had yet to emerge from her room after learning of last night’s shocking events.
    Mortimer caught sight of Pyles at the far end of the hallway, and beckoned him over.
    ‘Has Dr Quince been in to see Miss Tabitha this morning?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes, sir. He visited her quite early, at about nine o’clock.’
    ‘I see. I don’t suppose … I hope nobody in the servants’ quarters is thinking that she might be in any way connected with … what happened.’
    ‘I wouldn’t know what the other servants are thinking, sir.’
    ‘No, of course not. Well, if you’ll see to it that our cases are taken out, Pyles, I think I’ll go and have a quick word with her myself.’
    ‘Very good, sir. Except that – I think she has another visitor with her at the moment.’
    ‘Another visitor?’
    ‘A gentleman called about ten minutes ago, sir, inquiring after Miss Tabitha. Burrows dealt with the matter and I’m afraid to say that he showed him up to her room.’
    ‘I see. I think I’d better go and investigate this.’
    Mortimer rapidly climbed the several sets of stairs leading to his sister’s chambers, then paused outside her door. He could hear no voices