A Pocket Full of Rye Read Free Page A

very ill,” she said.
    She was not, Neele noted, at all distressed.
    â€œWill you please give me particulars of his home and family?”
    â€œCertainly. I have already tried to get into communication with Mrs. Fortescue, but it seems she is out playing golf. She was not expected home to lunch. There is some uncertainty as to which course she is playing on.” She added in an explanatory manner, “They live at Baydon Heath, you know, which is a centre for three well-known golf courses.”
    Inspector Neele nodded. Baydon Heath was almost entirely inhabited by rich city men. It had an excellent train service, was only twenty miles from London and was comparatively easy to reach by car even in the rush of morning and evening traffic.
    â€œThe exact address, please, and the telephone number?”
    â€œBayden Heath 3400. The name of the house is Yewtree Lodge.”
    â€œWhat?” The sharp query slipped out before Inspector Neele could control it. “Did you say Yewtree Lodge?”
    â€œYes.”
    Miss Griffith looked faintly curious, but Inspector Neele had himself in hand again.
    â€œCan you give me particulars of his family?”
    â€œMrs. Fortescue is his second wife. She is much younger than he is. They were married about two years ago. The first Mrs. Fortescue has been dead a long time. There are two sons and a daughter of the first marriage. The daughter lives at home and so does the elder son, who is a partner in the firm. Unfortunately he is away in the North of England today on business. He is expected to return tomorrow.”
    â€œWhen did he go away?”
    â€œThe day before yesterday.”
    â€œHave you tried to get in touch with him?”
    â€œYes. After Mr. Fortescue was removed to hospital I rang up the Midland Hotel in Manchester where I thought he might be staying, but he had left early this morning. I believe he was also going to Sheffield and Leicester, but I am not sure about that. I can give you the names of certain firms in those cities whom he might be visiting.”
    Certainly an efficient woman, thought the inspector, and if she murdered a man she would probably murder him very efficiently, too. But he forced himself to abandon these speculations and concentrate once more on Mr. Fortescue’s home front.
    â€œThere is a second son you said?”
    â€œYes. But owing to a disagreement with his father he lives abroad.”
    â€œAre both sons married?”
    â€œYes. Mr. Percival has been married for three years. He and his wife occupy a self-contained flat in Yewtree Lodge, though they are moving into their own house at Baydon Heath very shortly.”
    â€œYou were not able to get in touch with Mrs. Percival Fortescue when you rang up this morning?”
    â€œShe had gone to London for the day.” Miss Griffith went on, “Mr. Lancelot got married less than a year ago. To the widow of Lord Frederick Anstice. I expect you’ve seen pictures of her. In the Tatler —with horses, you know. And at point-to-points.”
    Miss Griffith sounded a little breathless and her cheeks were faintly flushed. Neele, who was quick to catch the moods of human beings, realized that this marriage had thrilled the snob and the romantic in Miss Griffith. The aristocracy was the aristocracy to Miss Griffith and the fact that the late Lord Frederick Anstice had had a somewhat unsavoury reputation in sporting circles was almost certainly not known to her. Freddie Anstice had blown his brains out just before an inquiry by the Stewards into the running of one of his horses. Neele remembered something vaguely about his wife. She had been the daughter of an Irish Peer and had been married before to an airman who had been killed in the Battle of Britain.
    And now, it seemed, she was married to the black sheep of the Fortescue family, for Neele assumed that the disagreement with his father, referred to primly by Miss Griffith, stood for some disgraceful