The Dying of the Light: A Mystery Read Online Free

needles again and began to form the first stitches.
    ‘Yes, but there isn’t anyone else,’ she repeated. ‘Don’t you remember? We were all gathered here in the lounge.’
    ‘All except you,’ murmured Rosemary.
    Dorothy’s hands became still.
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I am merely pointing out that you are the only one who doesn’t have an alibi,’ Rosemary replied. ‘You left the lounge under the pretext of going to powder your nose shortly before the attack occurred, and returned immediately afterwards to stage an extremely convincing display of hysteria.’
    Dorothy laughed and resumed her knitting.
    ‘Oh rubbish! What possible motive could I have?’
    ‘One can always invent a motive,’ Rosemary sniffed. ‘You might be the sultry Latin temptress with whose affections Channing, alias Randolph Fitzpayne, trifled in the course of his sojourn in Patagonia and who subsequently followed him to England intent on exacting revenge.’
    Dorothy glared at her.
    ‘Honestly, Rose! Do I look like a dago?’
    The door was opened by a lanky man in his mid-forties wearing a blue blazer and white flannel trousers. His long florid face rose to a mat of slicked hair which had receded to the centre of his skull. Holding the door ajar, he wheeled in a metal trolley supporting a large teapot and a pile of cups and saucers.
    ‘Good afternoon, campers!’ he called jovially.
    There was a scattered muttering of ‘Good afternoon, Mr Anderson.’
    The man picked up a cut-glass tumbler from the trolley and took a leisurely gulp of the amber liquid it contained.
    ‘And how are we this afternoon, Mavis?’ he asked Mrs Hargreaves, who beamed back.
    ‘Don’t you worry about me, Mr A! This old heart will see me out.’
    ‘I dare say it will, Mavis. I dare say it will. Although not I trust before you’ve taken the opportunity to attend to the little matter we discussed the other day.’
    He gave Mrs Hargreaves a broad wink.
    ‘I’m giving it a piece of my mind, Mr A,’ she replied.
    ‘While the rest of that picturesque organ pursues the more abstruse ramifications of unified field theory, no doubt.’
    Mrs Hargreaves gave him an arch look.
    ‘Rome wasn’t built yesterday,’ she said.
    Anderson took another gulp of his drink.
    ‘True. I would none the less draw your attention to the equally well-attested facts that man – or, in your case, woman – does not live by bread alone, and that there is no time like the present. Incidentally it may interest you to know that another of our number has recently taken the pledge, I mean plunge. Unfortunately I’m not at liberty to reveal her name, or indeed sex …’
    Mrs Hargreaves giggled.
    ‘Beg pardon?’
    ‘ “Sex”, Mavis. What people have in at least one sense and occasionally two, although not for some considerable time in my case and yours too I should imagine, but don’t get any ideas. As I was saying, the benefactor asked to remain anonymous for reasons which I am of course bound to respect, although I confess myself unable to fathom them.’
    He drained his glass.
    ‘No, on second thoughts, fuck it. It was Mrs Davenport.’
    Rosemary was unable to stifle a gasp. Anderson walked over and placed his hand on Dorothy’s head.
    ‘We’re all one big happy family here, so I can’t see any need to make a big secret of the fact that dear Dorothy asked to see a man of law last week with regard to changing her sex, I mean will. The details naturally remain sub rosa not to mention in petto , but I can reveal that Letty had to go and round up a couple of villagers to act as witnesses since she and I were ineligible. Make of that what you will!’
    Leaving Rosemary staring in shock at her friend, Anderson wandered back to Mrs Hargreaves. He picked up one of the postcards laid out in rows on the blankets.
    ‘We really should see about getting you a proper pack of cards, Mavis. No reason why you shouldn’t be playing with a full deck in one sense at least, eh?’
    He