old-fashioned Piccadilly weepers.
«Please forgive this intrusion, sir,» he said, looking at me, then at Bella. «
He removed his hat and threw a very serious look at my friend Christopher.
«Mr Miracle, I’m afraid I shall have to ask you to come with me to the Yard. Certain… developments have come to light.»
«Developments?»
I held up a hand. «Just a moment, Inspector. Before you haul my friend off on some spurious charge, had we not best get the facts in order? Mr Miracle was in the process of describing the events to us. You can surely show him the courtesy of allowing him to finish.»
Flush gave a triple-chinned shrug. «That is a courtesy we should be glad to extend — at the station.»
«What developments?» cried Miracle with some asperity.
With slightly more drama than was necessary (I liked him at once), Flush removed his hat, and held it to his breast. «We’ve located the missing woman.»
«Safe and well, I trust,» said Bella.
«No, miss,» said the inspector. «Dead.»
9. The Horror in the Cardboard Tube
WELL, there it was.
The wretched Miracle had been formally charged with murder and I was allowed to visit him, giving what assurances I could. Of course, I couldn’t possibly take off to Italy at a time like this, I told him. I wouldn’t rest until his good name was cleared. That sort of blather.
I missed the boat to Naples and, later that day, slipped off to see the ascetic banker, Mr Midsomer Knight.
«Mr Box, have you been retained by Scotland Yard in this matter?» he positively hissed. «Really, I cannot see what the deuce business it is of yours.»
Mr Midsomer Knight looked at me coldly as I sat across from him in his frightful, over-furnished Norwood home. I spread my hands before me in a gesture of supplication. «It is only that I believe Mr Miracle to be entirely innocent of any crime and I wish to help in any way I can in bringing the true perpetrator of this horrid deed to justice.»
Knight gave a small nod so I continued.
«Can you tell me how your wife came to attend Mr Miracle’s drawing class?»
Knight thought for a moment. «I took some convincing, Mr Box, I don’t mind telling you.» He placed his hands on the knob of his stick, leaning forward like a minister at his lectern. «I believe a woman’s place is at her husband’s side. However, amongst a lady’s accomplishments a little music, a little French a little…
«You seem to imagine your wife was in training to become a provincial governess.»
«I sought merely to protect her,» he bristled. «Her… disfigurement, you understand. She could not have stood the mocking voices, the averted glances…»
«But finally you gave into a little, what shall we call it, female emancipation?»
Knight regarded me coldly. «She was most insistent. I was surprised, I admit. She had never shown any facility in drawing. But, I thought that, after all, the change would do her good.» He closed his eyes. «How foolish I was. But there is… there
I cocked my head. «Her
«A free-thinker. It was quite a blessing for her that he passed away.»
I sighed heavily. «As far as I can see, Mr Knight, there is nothing to suggest that your wife didn’t simply leave Miracle’s studio a short time after
«And went where?»
«Wherever you prevented her from going in the past.»
Knight’s pallid features coloured. «What the devil are you suggesting?»
I waved a placating hand. «Merely thinking aloud. Now, would it be possible — I understand how delicate must be your feelings just now — could you tell me how your wife came by her injuries?»
«The police tell me that…
«No, no. Her old injuries.»
The banker’s face was impassive. «Fire.»
«In her younger days?»
«Yes. I believe she was seven- or eight-and-twenty at the time.»
«You did not know her then?»
«Gracious, no. We were married two or three years later. In fact, our anniversary is fast approaching.»
He fumbled in his waistcoat for a moment and produced a small parcel of tissue paper. Spreading it out on the table before him, he revealed a pair of modestly bejewelled earrings.
«These were to have been my gift. I suppose I will be able to claim back the expense.»
He sniffed lightly and replaced them in his pocket.
I persevered. «How did you meet?»
«When her previous husband died abroad, my firm sent me to advise her on financial affairs. We became… attached. One day, I asked her to marry me, and she agreed. It was a very suitable arrangement.»
I wondered whether he made bank-loans sound as appealing.
I returned home and was astonished to find Delilah waiting in a brougham outside. «Hevening, sir. Compliments of Mr Reynolds, sir. ’E’s ’eard abart Mr Miracle’s spot ho’ bovver, sir, and wonders hif ’e can be hof hany ’elp.»
«Most kind of him. How lovely to see you restored to health, Delilah. You did give us a turn the other day, you know.»
She clambered from the vehicle as I opened the door of Number Nine. «Nah. Hit’s well known that hi’m himmortal, sir,» she chuckled throatily. «Unless you cut horf me ’ead and stick ha pike through me ’eart hi’ll be ’ere for ha few years yet.»
We stepped inside then, a moment later, I pulled up sharply as Delilah’s great thick arm suddenly barred my way. I had the door of the drawing room half open. Something was awry.
«What is it?» I whispered, eyes flashing from side to side.
Delilah stooped to pick up a cardboard tube that was lying on the cork-matting of the hallway floor. One end of it was curiously ragged, as though chewed open.
She stepped in front of me and then beckoned as we made our way silently into the room.
I stopped dead. Lying in a heap, surrounded by letters, was the body of a uniformed postman — stopped dead in a more literal fashion.
«Cor! Look hat ’is bloody face!» gasped Delilah. The skin of his face was hideously inflamed and swollen and almost as black as his boots. «You reckon the bobby next door let ’im hin?»
I nodded. «Must have. I was expecting something. Yes. That must be it.»
Clutched in the postman’s hands — which were screwed up like rusted keys — was a squarish, brown-paper parcel. «Get back!» I said, dropping to one knee to examine the body. «Ah!»
There were two puncture wounds in the right wrist, the skin around them a vile, blistered mess.
«He’s been bitten by something,» I whispered.
Delilah looked down at the dead man. «Come hin this tube, you reckon?» Folding her arms, Delilah looked uneasily around the darkened room. «Whatever hit was,» she breathed, «his probably still hin ’ere.»
«Indubitably.»
