The Mysterious Mr Quin Read Free Page A

was the attitude.’
    Conway gave a gesture of discouragement.
    ‘And yet,’ he said. ‘Ten minutes later–’
    They sat in silence. Evesham brought his hand down with a bang on the table.
    ‘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–’
    ‘Why?’ said Mr Quin.
    The interruption seemed to disconcert Evesham.
    ‘I beg your pardon?’
    ‘I only said: Why?’ said Mr Quin.
    Evesham frowned in an effort of memory.
    ‘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.’
    ‘That’s not inexplicable,’ said Portal. ‘Of course the fellow got some unexpected news in a letter. Obvious, I should have said.’
    ‘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.
    ‘You’re sure he didn’t open just one of them? He might have destroyed it after reading it?’
    ‘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.
    ‘Extraordinary.’
    ‘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.’
    ‘Nothing to be done but telephone for the police, I suppose?’ said Mr Quin.
    ‘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 carterhad found it half buried in a snowdrift and had taken it to the police station. They recognized it as Capel’s, and a dog he was particularly fond of, and the constable came up with it. He’d just arrived a minute before the shot was fired. It saved us some trouble.’
    ‘Gad, that was a snowstorm,’ said Conway reminiscently. ‘About this time of year, wasn’t it? Early January.’
    ‘February, I think. Let me see, we went abroad soon afterwards.’
    ‘I’m pretty sure it was January. My hunter Ned–you remember Ned?–lamed himself the end of January. That was just after this business.’
    ‘It must have been quite the end of January then. Funny how difficult it is to recall dates after a lapse of years.’
    ‘One of the most difficult things in the world,’ said Mr Quin, conversationally. ‘Unless you can find a landmark in some big public event–an assassination of a crowned head, or a big murder trial.’
    ‘Why, of course,’ cried Conway, ‘it was just before the Appleton case.’
    ‘Just after, wasn’t it?’
    ‘No, no, don’t you remember–Capel knew the Appletons–he’d stayed with the old man the previous Spring–just a week before he died. He was talking of him one night–what an old curmudgeon he was, andhow awful it must have been for a young and beautiful woman like Mrs Appleton to be tied to him. There was no suspicion then that she had done away with him.’
    ‘By jove, you’re right. I remember reading the paragraph in the paper saying an exhumation order had been granted. It would have been that same day–I remember only seeing