An Apostle of Gloom Read Free

quieten the quick beating of his heart.
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Chapter 2
A POLICEMAN UNDER A SHADOW
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    â€œIt is not a pleasant task for me to present this warrant and I think you should stop pretending that you know nothing about it,” said Abbott, with an obvious effort.
    â€œI tell you—” began Roger.
    â€œHallo, Jan!” cried a voice from the hall and Roger recognised the deep tones of Mark Lessing. Abbott was so surprised that he looked towards the door and Mark continued in a booming voice: “How’s the little birthday party going?” He stopped, there was a muffled gasp and then, in a rather weak voice, Janet said: “Mark, you ass!”
    â€œNow what is a kiss between friends on a birthday?” demanded Lessing. “Especially on the twenty-first – it is your twenty-first, isn’t it?” In different circumstances Roger would have welcomed the wide smile he knew to be on his friend’s often sober countenance and the gaiety in the clear brown eyes. “Besides, I’ve brought you a present, a piece of Seèvres.” He went on talking, but his voice was muffled. At last Janet was forced to raise hers, but that too was indistinct; obviously she had taken Mark into the lounge.
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    Abbott pinched his nostrils. “Well, West?” he said.
    Roger eyed him levelly and thanked the fates for sending Mark Lessing so opportunely. A few moments before he would have answered angrily and that would only have worsened the situation; Mark had given him time to realise that he would be wise to adopt a reasoning attitude. There was some absurd mistake, but it could be rectified and, rather than antagonise the Superintendent, he should try to create a good impression.
    So he smiled and spoke steadily.
    â€œI haven’t anything to say about it, Abbott, except that I’m completely at a loss – seriously,” he added with a smile intended to be friendly but which became set when Abbott continued to stare at him, showing no sign of relaxing his cold hostility. “You must have some reason for getting a warrant sworn for me, but—”
    â€œYou must know the reason,” said Abbott.
    Roger fancied that there was a slight easing of his manner, the faint emphasis on the ‘must’ implied a query. He was about to follow it up when there came from the lounge an astonishing sound – astonishing because of the quiet which had reigned until then. It was the deep, throbbing bass notes of the piano, and then it developed into Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in C sharp minor, played to get the utmost volume of sound and reverberating through the little house and probably audible half-way along the street. Hardly had it started than Mark began to sing, more loudly than harmoniously; a suspicion entered Roger’s mind that Mark was drunk. Yet he was an abstemious man as a rule, a fair judge of wine who rarely touched beer or spirits.
    â€œIs that din necessary?” Abbott demanded, irritably.
    â€œIs any of this necessary?” demanded Roger, somewhat tartly. “I thought I was going to have a day off, and I ought to leave soon, I’m taking my wife to a show, as I told you. Are you serious about executing this warrant?”
    â€œOf course I am serious,” said Abbott, “and I shall require you to—”
    â€œWhy did you get it?” demanded Roger.
    He had to raise his voice to make himself heard for Mark had the bit properly between his teeth. Now and again he crashed a wrong note and he was playing so heavily that the piano frame was quivering and groaning. At odd intervals his singing grew audible and introduced a note of absurdity which exasperated Roger and yet seemed to relieve the tension about him.
    â€œIf you will stop that noise,” said Abbott, “I can tell you.” He stepped to the door and, no matter how reluctantly, Roger had to go with him. When it was open, the whole house seemed to be in uproar,