Murder and Misdeeds Read Free Page A

handkerchief,” he said, showing her a knotted piece of muslin.
    “Susan made this handkerchief for me,” he continued, gazing at it fondly. “Gave half a dozen of them to me for my last birthday. The cloth is a little funny. Seconds, she called it. Something went wrong in the weaving, but as it was stitched with her own dear fingers, I treasure it.”
    Corinne had encouraged Coffen Pattle in his laggardly pursuit of Susan. She thought they would make a good pair, both so friendly and undemanding. She had believed that nothing had come of it, but if Susan had sent him a birthday gift, perhaps she’d been mistaken.
    “Should you not cut a slit in the lining of your hat and hide the money inside?” she suggested.
    “What, destroy my hat? It’s one of Baxter’s finest curled beavers. I value it as much as the blunt I’m bringing. I’ll just hold the hankie in with a pin. You wouldn’t happen to have a pin on you?”
    “No.”
    “Then I will put it under my shirt, hold it in the pit of my arm if we are stopped. Where have you hidden yours?”
    “In different places—pockets, the toes of both shoes. I folded some bills under the ribbon of my bonnet and some in ... more private places.”
    “Ah, in the top of your stocking. I hope they don’t look there.”
    “I doubt he will find all my hiding places. And I am wearing this little glass brooch that I don’t mind losing. He might mistake it for a diamond and be content with that. We’ll have footmen riding with us as well.”
    “Just one, I fear. The others didn’t care to come,” Coffen said sheepishly. “I asked Raven—my valet, you know. I would like to have him along, but he don’t care for travel. Young Eddie will ride with Fitz on the box.”
    When the trunk was stored and the driver given the map, Coffen called, “Spring ‘em,” and they were off.
    The trip out of London was executed with no problems. Once beyond the bustle of the city, the road stretched dark and menacing before them. A fingernail of star-dogged moon floated high overhead. It did not even begin to dissipate the shadows. When they reached the deserted heath, a tension crept into the carriage. Coffen sat with his eye trained out the left window, while Corinne peered out the right side. A low-lying fog curled close to the ground, with darker forms of shrubs and an occasional tree protruding above. At one point they entered a tunnel of trees. A breeze moved the leaves with a soft, hissing sound.
    “This is where he’ll get us,” Coffen said in a tense voice.
    “Stop it, Coffen. You’re making my flesh crawl.”
    In the darkness of the coach, a ray of moonlight caught the gleam of metal from his pistol.
    “Don’t point that thing at me,” she said.
    “It ain’t loaded.”
    “Coffen! You came without loading your pistol! What is the point of that? Charge it at once.”
    “I didn’t have any bullets at home. I thought the gun might scare him off.” He heard a distinct sigh of frustration.
    “I hope Fitz and the footman have loaded guns,” she said.
    “Just told you, I didn’t have any bullets.”
    They soon came out the other end of the tree tunnel, fortunately unscathed, and continued their perilous journey. Once they were clear of the heath, the worst of the trip was over and they could devote their worries to Susan.
    Appleby Court lay in a sheltered glen of the weald at the northern edge of Ashdown Forest. As they drew near, the farms and estates were familiar to them. When they heard the clatter of hooves come thundering out of a meadow, they took it for some local buck on his way home from his late night revels. Even when the rider cantered alongside their coach, they felt no real fear. It was not until a shot rang out and the driver slowed to a stop that they heard the fatal words, “Stand and deliver. You two, on the ground, facedown.” The carriage lurched as the driver and footman followed orders. One lone masked rider suddenly appeared at the carriage