Death Comes to Cambers Read Online Free Page B

bridge over the stream to the shed, and just about where the long, slow rise in the land to the grassy crest ahead first became noticeable. A glance told Bobby that much trampling and running to and fro had already quite certainly destroyed all chance of finding any helpful or significant tracks. He asked Ray to point out the exact spot where the body had lain, but evidently the young man’s idea of precision resembled that of most other people, and for him meant merely ‘there or thereabouts’. Then, too, when Bobby tried to question him he grew confused, and presently pronounced for another spot nearly three yards away from that he had first pointed out. It was only too certain that the exact spot, in the sense in which Bobby understood ‘exact’, was not to be discovered from him, though the point was of less importance in that the long, damp grass preserved few signs, and even those it might otherwise have shown had been confused by so much trampling and running to and fro.
    â€˜She was lying on her back, straight out,’ Ray said, ‘but Mr. Bowman said she was on her face when he found her, and he turned her over and she was so stiff and cold she must have been lying there all the night.’
    He went on to give a few more words of description that showed the characteristic signs of strangulation had been present, but added that Mr. Bowman had been very clear that no piece of cord, or anything else that could have been used by the murderer to effect his purpose with, had been left on the spot. Bobby, looking round about carefully himself, decided the whole field would have to be thoroughly searched to make sure of this. His shoes and trouser-ends got very wet in the long grass the previous night’s rain had so thoroughly soaked, and Ray made some passing reference to the storm and how glad he had been, as he lay in bed and heard the rain coming down, that he was not out in it. He was very amused, too, when Bobby presently discovered a match-stalk. It was of the kind called ‘book’ matches, and printed on the flat stalk were the words: ‘Hotel Henry VIII’. Bobby knew the name for that of an hotel recently opened with a great flourish of trumpets in the Mayfair district of London. The thing might be of importance or might not, and he put it carefully away, again to the amusement of his companion. One of the party, Ray explained, had been a good deal affected by the unfortunate woman’s appearance and had lighted a cigarette to steady his nerves.
    â€˜That was Mr. Bowman – him that found her,’ Ray explained. ‘Miss Bowman’s his sister. Funny like it should be him found her.’
    â€˜Why?’ Bobby asked quickly, remembering that this was the second time Mr. Bowman’s sister had been mentioned.
    â€˜They say it’s on account of her Sir Albert left her ladyship,’ the young man answered; and Bobby remembered that his grandmother had talked vaguely about some unfortunate dispute between husband and wife, though she had not mentioned any names, and Bobby had not been greatly interested at the time.
    But now he thought it might be as well to bear the fact in mind, even though very likely it was only one of hundreds having no connection with what had happened. Also he was beginning to think that Ray Hardy was showing even more distress and excitement than even so dreadful a tragedy would appear to warrant – as well as a somewhat odd desire to emphasize that neither he nor anyone on the farm knew anything of what had happened till Mr. Bowman came to tell them. Since there was no reason to suppose they had had any means of being aware of it, why was the young man so eager to protest their ignorance? But no doubt allowance had to be made for the excitement and general disturbance produced in him by such an event; very likely the shock had made him loquacious and his flow of talk was merely his way of reacting to it.
    On the point of