Appleby and the Ospreys Read Online Free

some of this, but no Osprey had been at all discomposed by them. Moreover, every Osprey knew about the family motto as it appeared cut in stone above an out-size fireplace in the mansion’s billiard room. It was:
     
    I prey
     
    The charm of this was that it sounded pious, but that when you took a look at it a different sense appeared. If you happened to have preserved a Latin dictionary from your schooldays, and looked up praeda , you tumbled to the pun (or whatever it is to be called) at once. And the osprey, of course, is so named because it preys upon fish. It is pre-eminently the bird that does that. As Shakespeare’s Aufidius tells us, it takes the fish by sovereignty of nature.
     
    In the present set-up at Clusters it was a Broadwater, not an Osprey, who appeared to go after fish in a dedicated fashion. John Appleby – on his way, as he told himself, to condole with Lady Osprey on the untimely death of her husband – was made aware of this to a distinctly perplexing effect. As he approached Clusters, and close to the spot at which Judith and he had seen the man a few days before, he became aware of Lady Osprey’s brother advancing towards him – and in his attire and all his piscatory paraphernalia he presented precisely the appearance that Appleby recalled from that previous occasion. But what was striking now was the evident fact of Marcus Broadwater’s proposing to indulge himself in his favourite sport hard upon the violent death of his brother-in-law. Angling is declared in a famous place to be the contemplative man’s recreation, and conceivably Broadwater had decided that casting his fly at elusive trout might conduce to the state of mind required for – as it were – bringing the current mystery at Clusters successfully to dry land. But however that might be, there remained something distinctly odd in the man’s thus deserting his own sister on what could scarcely be other than the most calamitous day of her life.
    Upon the retired John Appleby this whiff of mystery had what was perhaps a predictable effect. He was moved to break in upon Broadwater’s solitude forthwith, and to this end he brought his car to a halt immediately beside the field-path into which he guessed the fisherman would turn. When the man came within two or three yards of him he got out and spoke.
    ‘Mr Broadwater, I think?’ he said.
    ‘You have the advantage of me, sir.’ Broadwater’s tone was distinctly chilly – but that, Appleby told himself, was fair enough from one who had been accosted in a most unwarrantable manner while going about his entirely peaceful occasions.
    ‘My name is Appleby, and I was at that luncheon-party at Clusters a few days ago. I hadn’t the pleasure of being introduced to you, but your identity was mentioned to me by my wife. She described you as the man who sat in absolute silence next to Miss Minnychip.’
    This was far from polite, and presumably intended to be just that. There is much to be said for losing no time in irritating a witness. But if this was Appleby’s proposal, it failed entirely. Broadwater’s chilliness departed; he set his creel on the ground, leaned his rod casually across the bonnet of Appleby’s car, and spoke with gentle amusement.
    ‘Ah yes! Miss Minnychip. It is positively unkind to venture on a remark to her. She is one of nature’s monologuists, and conversation upsets her. You must have known people of that sort, Sir John. Some Home Secretaries, for example.’
    Thus identified – as by Mr Brackley in his church – Appleby was obliged to fall back on civility.
    ‘I must apologize for accosting you,’ he said, ‘on your way to what will be, no doubt, a capital day’s sport. I’ve been told that, next after the Test, it’s the best trout-stream in England.’
    ‘It comes high on the list, certainly. We could talk about it for some time. A pleasant Curiosity of Fish and Fishing, you know.’ Thus invoking Izaak Walton’s ghost, Broadwater appeared