The Reader Is Warned

long, powerful fingers. 'And look here, Sanders: it may merely be a pre-prandial case of the jitters, but I'm not sure we oughtn't to ring the police after all.'

'No good being in a hurry. But why?'

'For one thing, Dr Edge says there was nothing wrong with Sam's heart. For another, Pennik -'

'Did you see Pennik?'

'As a matter of strict fact,' answered Chase, gripping the newel-post more tightly, ‘I didn't. Don't worry; he's down there right enough. We mustn't take it too seriously if he begins talking nonsense. But he's down there. I heard him, and so I didn't exactly relish the prospect of seeing him. I looked into the dining-room. He's got the kitchen door partly propped open with a wedge. He's in the kitchen, because I could hear him whistling, and a sound like salad being stirred in a wooden bowl. Er - he's got the dining-room all done out: every light on, best china and cutlery, Mina's Irish linen that she's so keen on, and flowers in a bowl on the table. But the table is only laid for five.

PART II

DARKNESS Concerning Death in the Air

PRESS

'East Surrey Morning Messenger,' April 30th, 1938

death of mr S. H. constable

The many friends of Mr Samuel Hobart Constable, of Fourways, nr Grovetop, will learn with regret of Mr Constable's sudden death last night. Mr Constable is conjectured to have suffered a heart attack while on his way down to dinner.

Mr Constable, who was only 56, was the son of Sir Lawrence C. Constable, the textile manufacturer. He was educated at Hartonby and Simon Magus College, Cambridge. At the end of his first year at Cambridge he elected to enter the Civil Service, where his career, though unspectacular, was sound, constructive, and in keeping with the best traditions of Empire. He retired at the death of his father in 1921. In 1928 he married Miss Wilhelmina Wright, better known to her many readers under the pen-name of Mina Shields. He leaves no children.

‘

London Evening Griddle (Saturday Might Final), April 30/A, 1938

thrill-novelist's husband dies by mystery stroke!

what caused death?

POLICE 'PUZZLED'

By Ray Dodsworth, Evening Griddle Crime Reporter

Samuel Constable, wealthy husband of romantic novelist Mina Shields, collapsed and died before the eyes of friends last night in his Surrey home.

What killed him?

Heart-failure, it was stated. But a post-mortem was ordered by the coroner, Dr J. L. Edge having refused a death-certificate. This post-mortem was performed this morning by Dr Edge, with theassistance of none other than Dr John Sanders, famous pathologist. Afterwards the doctors were in consultation nearly seven hours. Why?

The reason is believed to be that no possible cause of death could be found. Every organ of the deceased's body was sound.

'Have the doctors any theory to account for this?' was the question put to Colonel F. G. Willow, Chief Constable for Surrey.

'It is certainly puzzling,' replied Colonel Willow. 'I have no further statement to make at this time.'

'But can a man die from no cause whatever?'

'I have no further statement to make at this time,' said Colonel Willow.

Questions to the guests assembled for a week-end party at Four-ways, gloom-wrapped country house where the mysterious death took place, were not permitted.

London Evening Griddle (same issue)

STOP-PRESS

Chief Inspector Humphrey Masters, of Scotland Yard, will leave to-morrow for Grovetop, Suney, in connexion with the mysterious death of Samuel H. Constable.

CHAPTER VI

On Sunday morning, when even the grass and hedgerows seem to wake up late, drowsy sunlight poured through every open door of the Black Swan Hotel between Guildford and Grovetop. Or Sanders sat by the open windows of the parlour, drinking coffee and blinking out against the sun. It was so quiet that he could even hear fowls scrabbling in the yard behind the hotel. Then a car drew up noisily; and he felt a vast relief to see the large, bland face of Chief Inspector Masters looking up at him from the road.

'Ah, sir!' said Masters, coming into the parlour with the air of a galleon under full sail, and shaking hands with a great bustle of cheerfulness. 'Good morning, good morning, good morning! Beautiful morning, isn't it?'

'I suppose it is.'

The chief inspector refused to have his spirits damped. But he was more subdued when he sat down.

'Coffee? Don't mind if I do. - Lummy, sir,you look a bit done in!'

'I suppose I am, a little.'

'Well, I expect we shall be able to put that right. Eh?' said Masters heartily. The coffee arrived, and he stirred it with vigour. 'And how are things with you, sir? Any news from Miss Blystone? She's well, I hope?'

'So far as I know, she is perfectly well,' snapped Sanders, turning on him such a freezing look that the other stared. Masters's forehead grew more ruddy. Then; coming to a decision after a shrewd look at his companion, the chief inspector hitched his chair close to the table with a conspiratorial air.

'Now, sir, what's all this about?' he asked, low-voiced and hearty. 'I don't know why you should snap my head off for asking after Miss Blystone; but it's no ruddy business of mine anyway, so that's all right.'

'Sorry. I didn't mean that.'

Masters looked at him keenly. 'The main thing is, what about that message you sent me? You said to come here, and here I am. But you know, Doctor, you know as well as anybody else, that I've got a duty to do. My duty's to drive straight on to Grovetop and report to the Superintendent there. Just so!' He was Very persuasive. 'Why should you want me to see you and get the facts from you first ?'

'Because you'll blow up,' said Sanders simply. 'You'll go straight up and hit the ceiling. I thought you had better have warning.'

Masters sat up.

'Bad as that?'

'Yes.'

'Lummy, we're in it again,' said Masters, after a pause. 'Well; sir, I don't mind. I tell you straight, f don't. I've seen too much in the past six or seven years, and you don't know your man if you think anything could surprise me now.' Nevertheless, his worry grew. 'Besides, what's all the row? From what I could hear, it's nothing to be alarmed about. This old gentleman, Mr Constable, was seen by his wife to walk out of his bedroom towards the stairs. In the middle of the landing he suddenly threw a fit, fell down, and died in a couple of minutes. Right?'

'Right as far as it goes.'

'Oh?' said Masters, giving him a quick look. 'Can you help me out further than that?'

'A little. It's not in the least complicated, if that's what you mean. On Friday night six persons were staying' at Fourways: Mr and Mrs Constable, Miss Hilary Keen, Mr Lawrence Chase, Mr Herman Pennik, and myself. Our respective positions just before Constable died were as follows. Constable himself was dressing in his bedroom, which adjoins his wife's bedroom by way of a bath. Mrs Constable was dressing in her bedroom. Mr Chase was also dressing in his bedroom. Miss Keen was talking to me in my bedroom. All these rooms are on the same floor, set round three sides of a square. The only other guest, Mr Pennik, was downstairs in the kitchen getting us a scratch meal.

'At about two minutes to eight Constable called out to his wife, through open doors between, that he had finished dressing and was going downstairs. Just as she heard his door close into the hall, she remembered that she had forgotten to ask whether she had given him two clean handkerchiefs. She went over and opened her door into the hall.

'Both their rooms face across towards the third side of the square - formed by the side of the staircase, with a hand-rail. Mrs Constable saw her husband standing in the hall with his back to her. Not standing, exactly. She