Detection Unlimited Read Free

they had reached the first of the shops, which combined groceries with haberdashery and stationery, and also harboured the Post Office, and a diversion was created by the emergence from its portals of Miss Miriam Patterdale, vigorously affixing a stamp to a postcard. She accorded them a curt nod, and thrust the card into the letter-box, saying cryptically: 'That's to the laundry! We shall see what excuse they can think up this time. I suppose you're going to the Haswells'? You'll find Abby there. I'm told she plays quite a good game.'

    'Very creditable indeed,' agreed Mr Drybeck. 'A strong backhand, unusual in one of her sex.'

    'Nonsense!' said Miss Patterdale, disposing of this without compunction. 'Time you stopped talking like an Edwardian, Thaddeus. No patience with it!'

    'I fear' said Mr Drybeck, with a thin smile, 'that I am quite an old fogy.'

    'Nothing to be proud of in that,' said Miss Patterdale, correctly divining his attitude.

    Mr Drybeck was silenced. He had known Miss Patterdale for a number of years, but she had never lost her power to intimidate him. She was a weatherbeaten spinster of angular outline and sharp features. She invariably wore suits of severe cut, cropped her gray locks extremely short, and screwed a monocle into one eye. But this was misleading: her sight really was irregular. She was the older daughter of the late Vicar of the parish, and upon his death, some ten years previously, she had removed from the Vicarage to the cottage at the corner of Fox Lane, from which humble abode she still exercised a ruthless but beneficient tyranny over the present incumbent's parishioners. Since the Reverend Anthony Cliburn's wife was of a shy and a retiring nature, only too thankful to have her responsibilities wrested from her by a more forceful hand, not the smallest unpleasantness had ever arisen between the ladies. Mrs Cliburn was frequently heard to say that she didn't know what any of them would do without Miriam; and Miss Patterdale, responding to this tribute, asserted in a very handsome spirit, that although Edith hadn't an ounce of commonsense or moral courage she did her best, and always meant well.

    'Are we to have the pleasure of seeing you at The Cedars, Miss Patterdale?' asked the Major, breaking an uncomfortable silence.

    'No, my dear man, you are not. I don't play tennis -- never did! -- and if there's one think I bar it's watching country-house games. Besides, someone's got to milk the goats.'

    'It's a curious thing,' said the Major, 'but try as I will I can't like goats' milk. My wife occasionally used it during the War-years, but I never acquired a liking for it.'

    'It would have been more curious if you had. Filthy stuff!' said Mils Patterdale candidly. 'The villagers think it's good for their children: that's why I keep the brutes. Oh, well! There's a lot of nonsense talked about children nowadays: the truth is that they thrive on any muck.'

    Upon which trenchant remark she favoured them with another of her curt nods, screwed her monocle more securely into place, and strode off down the street.

    'Remarkable woman, that,' observed the Major.

    'Yes, indeed,' responded Mr Drybeck unenthusiastically.

    ' Extraordinarily pretty girl, that niece of hers. Not a bit like her, is she?'

    'Her mother -- Fanny Patterdale that was -- was always considered the better-looking of the sisters,' said Mr Drybeck repressively. 'I fancy you were not acquainted with her.'

    'No, before my time,' agreed the Major, realizing that he had been put in his place by the Second Oldest Inhabitant, and submitting to it. 'I'm a comparative newcomer, of course.'

    'Hardly that, Midgeholme,' said Mr Drybeck, rewarding this humility as it deserved. 'Compared to the Squire and me, and, I suppose I should add, Plenmeller, perhaps you might be considered a newcomer. But the place has seen many changes of late years.'

    'And not all of them for the better,' said the Major. 'Tempera mores, eh?'

    Mr Drybeck winced