The Coming of Mr. Quin Read Free Page A

night. He looked almost drunk with happiness. And yet – I can’t quite explain what I mean – but he looked oddly defiant too.’
    â€˜Like a man defying Fate,’ said Alex Portal heavily.
    Was it of Derek Capel he was speaking – or was it of himself? Mr Satterthwaite, looking at him, inclined to the latter view. Yes, that was what Alex Portal represented – a man defying Fate.
    His imagination, muddled by drink, responded suddenly to that note in the story which recalled his own secret preoccupation.
    Mr Satterthwaite looked up. She was still there. Watching, listening – still motionless, frozen – like a dead woman.
    â€˜Perfectly true,’ said Conway. ‘Capel was excited – curiously so. I’d describe him as a man who had staked heavily and won against well nigh overwhelming odds.’
    â€˜Getting up courage, perhaps, for what he’s made up his mind to do?’ suggested Portal.
    And as though moved by an association of ideas, he got up and helped himself to another drink.
    â€˜Not a bit of it,’ said Evesham sharply. ‘I’d almost swear nothing of that kind was in his mind. Conway’s right. A successful gambler who has brought off a long shot and can hardly believe in his own good fortune. That was the attitude.’
    Conway gave a gesture of discouragement.
    â€˜And yet,’ he said. ‘Ten minutes later –’
    They sat in silence. Evesham brought his hand down with a bang on the table.
    â€˜Something must have happened in that ten minutes,’ he cried. ‘It must! But what? Let’s go over it carefully. We were all talking. In the middle of it Capel got up suddenly and left the room –’
    â€˜Why?’ said Mr Quin.
    The interruption seemed to disconcert Evesham.
    â€˜I beg your pardon?’
    â€˜I only said: Why?’ said Mr Quin.
    Evesham frowned in an effort of memory.
    â€˜It didn’t seem vital – at the time – Oh! of course – the Post. Don’t you remember that jangling bell, and how excited we were. We’d been snowed up for three days, remember. Biggest snowstorm for years and years. All the roads were impassable. No newspapers, no letters. Capel went out to see if something had come through at last, and got a great pile of things. Newspapers and letters. He opened the paper to see if there was any news, and then went upstairs with his letters. Three minutes afterwards, we heard a shot … Inexplicable – absolutely inexplicable.’
    â€˜That’s not inexplicable,’ said Portal. ‘Of course the fellow got some unexpected news in a letter. Obvious, I should have said.’
    â€˜Oh! Don’t think we missed anything so obvious as that. It was one of the Coroner’s first questions. But Capel never opened one of his letters . The whole pile lay unopened on his dressing-table.’
    Portal looked crestfallen.
    â€˜You’re sure he didn’t open just one of them? He might have destroyed it after reading it?’
    â€˜No, I’m quite positive. Of course, that would have been the natural solution. No, every one of the letters was unopened. Nothing burnt – nothing torn up – There was no fire in the room.’
    Portal shook his head.
    â€˜Extraordinary.’
    â€˜It was a ghastly business altogether,’ said Evesham in a low voice. ‘Conway and I went up when we heard the shot, and found him – It gave me a shock, I can tell you.’
    â€˜Nothing to be done but telephone for the police, I suppose?’ said Mr Quin.
    â€˜Royston wasn’t on the telephone then. I had it put in when I bought the place. No, luckily enough, the local constable happened to be in the kitchen at the time. One of the dogs – you remember poor old Rover, Conway? – had strayed the day before. A passing carter had found it half buried in a snowdrift and had taken it to the police station. They recognized