An Apostle of Gloom Read Online Free

us, but that doesn’t include my wife.” He grew more aloof and Abbott obviously felt on dangerous ground, for he said stiffly: “If it is necessary to search Mrs. West – and I hope it will not be – I hardly need tell you the proper measures will be taken. Will you be good enough to call in Martin and the others?”
    â€œOthers?” ejaculated Roger.
    â€œThere are two detective-officers with him,” Abbott said.
    Roger nodded curtly, went to the front door and called the sergeant and his men, then returned to the front room. One of the men waited in the lounge. He was an old officer whom West looked at in bewilderment, for his presence brought the truth home to him more forcibly. It was a severe jolt to think that a man who called him ‘sir’ and took his instructions should now be watching to make sure that he destroyed no evidence and was not able to leave the room.
    Had he cared to make a fuss, he could have insisted on more formality; there was no point in doing so, however, for it would serve only to increase Abbott’s suspicions. It was evident that the Superintendent seriously believed the allegations to be true, but even more disturbing was the fact that Abbott had the approval – in fact, the instructions – of the Assistant Commissioner.
    Mark began to protest when Abbott left the room, but grew tongue-tied. Janet sat rigidly in an easy chair and looked out into the murky evening. The small clock on the mantelpiece showed that it had turned half past four – but Roger had forgotten Arsenic and Old Lace. He heard the heavy movements of the men upstairs and thought how often he had been on exactly the same quest.
    He had searched with a thoroughness which had brought the tension of the people waiting in another part of the house to breaking point. He had worked with a grim determination to find some evidence of complicity in crime and to break his victim’s resistance. After the search, provided it proved successful, were the arrest, the charge, the magistrate’s court, the gradual collection and piecing together of evidence, the final day of the trial, often absurdly short in view of the weary preparations which had preceded it. The jury, the judge, the sentence – and prison.
    Only vaguely did he think of Mark’s peculiar behaviour and Janet’s warning glance. He could not really grasp what was happening. Abbott, instead of being the Apostle of Gloom, became the Apostle of Doom, because – the Superintendent would not have come here, and Chatworth would not have signed the warrant, had they not been reasonably certain that they would find evidence that he had accepted bribes.
    He lit a cigarette and stared at Janet. Her lips curved in a faint smile but she was as much on edge as he. Mark seemed the calmest of them all. There was irony in the fact that the day had begun so well, the delight of getting home early, the preparations for the theatre, and now—this.
    The men were still moving about upstairs and time was flying – it was a quarter past five. Every minute worsened the suspense.
    Janet turned restlessly towards the window.
    â€œHow much longer will they be?”
    â€œNot long,” Roger said.
    Mark broke in, smiling reassuringly.
    â€œAfter all, no news is good news, if they’d found the alleged evidence they would have come down shouting huzzahs by now.” His good spirits were irritating, yet it was rare that he got on Roger’s nerves. There was a reason for his confidence, some secret he had confided to Janet but which Roger could not guess – except vaguely, and then only by drawing a conclusion that he wanted to dismiss as absurd.
    Footsteps sounded on the stairs.
    The three of them turned towards the door and only the plainclothes man seemed indifferent. All of the search party appeared to be coming and Roger, feeling a curious mixture of relief and tension, stared at the door handle.