Why Shoot a Butler Read Online Free PDF Page A

smiled rather scornfully. "Rather the other way round, I should say."
    Felicity was surveying her with friendly interest. "Aren't you the girl that's living at Ivy Cottage?" she inquired.
    "My brother and I have taken it furnished."
    "Are you going to stay long? You are Shirley Brown, aren't you? I'm Felicity Matthews. This is my cousin, Frank Amberley."
    Miss Brown bowed slightly, but she did not look at Mr. Amberley.
    "I rather wanted to get to know you," persevered Felicity. "I'm awfully glad we got ourselves introduced. There are practically no young people in this benighted place. Do you know Miss Fountain?"
    The girl shook her head. "No, I'm afraid I don't go out much. My - my brother is rather an invalid."
    "Oh, bad luck!" sympathised Felicity. Joan, this is Miss Brown, who is living at Ivy Cottage."
    "May I suggest," interposed Frank, "that you are obstructing the traffic?"
    Felicity became aware of an indignant motorist who was violently sounding his hooter. She drew the rather unwilling Miss Brown on to the pavement. "Have you heard the news?" she asked. "The Fountains' butler has been murdered! Isn't it awful?"
    "No, I hadn't heard. Are you sure he was murdered?"
    "He was shot through the chest, you see," said Mr. Amberley gently. "Seated at the wheel of an Austin Seven."
    "I see," Shirley said.
    Mr. Corkran was puzzled. "Yes, he was. But how the devil did you know all that?"
    "I found him," said Mr. Amberley.
    He created a sensation; only the dark girl at his side betrayed neither surprise nor incredulity. There was something rather tense in the way she held herself, but her eyes, travelling from Joan's shocked face to Felicity's eager one, were indifferent to the point of boredom.
    "I thought," said Mr. Amberley, interrupting the fire of questions, "that you might as well know now as later."
    "Oh, did you?" said Felicity witheringly. "Go on, tell us how it happened!"
    He threw her a mocking glance. "I'm reserving my evidence for the inquest, loved one."
    Shirley Brown stiffened slightly. She said, as though jesting: "The whole truth and nothing but the truth, in fact."
    " I see you know all about the procedure," said Mr. Amberley.
    She gave him back look for look, but said nothing. The two dogs, who had been snarling softly all the time, created a diversion by attempting to lunge suddenly at each other's throats. Shirley twisted the bull-terrier's leash round her hand and stepped back. "I mustn't wait any longer," she said. "I have some shopping to do. Goodbye."
    Joan watched her walk away down the street. "What a queer sort of a girl!" she remarked.
    "Oh, I don't know! Rather nice, I thought," said Felicity. "Look here, we can't stand here for ever. I've got to go to Thompson's and Crewett's. Come with me? Frank, for God's sake hold on to Wolf. I shan't be more than five minutes."
    Left to their own devices the two men began to stroll down the street together.
    "I say, Amberley, there's something damned odd about this murder," Anthony said.
    "Well, don't tell it to the whole of the town," recommended the rudest man in London.
    "Yes, but joking apart, you know, why should anyone want to take a pot-shot at a butler? Respectable old blighter, been at the manor umpteen years. The thing just isn't done. I mean, I could think of a lot of people who might get shot - gangsters, and cabinet ministers, and all. that push — but not butlers. After all, why shoot a butler? Where's the point?"
    "I've no idea," said Frank discouragingly.
    "There isn't one," Anthony declared. "That's what makes the thing look so fishy. I'll tell you what,
    Amberley; it's all very fine to read about mysteries, but in real life - no. Cut 'em right out."
    "I will."
    "Yes," said Anthony, suddenly gloomy. "But if you were staying at the manor you wouldn't be able to. The whole place is stiff with mystery."
    "Oh?" said Frank. "Why?"
    "Damned if I know. There isn't anything you could put your finger on, so to speak, but it's there all right. For one