The Santa Klaus Murder Read Free Page B

forced to realize later on, nearly all of us with good cause for wishing Sir Osmond dead and few with any cause to wish him long life.

Chapter Two
    Saturday
    by Hilda Wynford
    Jennifer had asked me, as usual, to arrive before the rest of the family, so that we could have some private gossip. Carol and I caught an early train from London and were at Bristol soon after ten on Saturday morning. Old Ashmore was there to meet us, in the familiar high, square-looking car. Even his queer Bristol accent, with all the final l’s vanishing into an indescribable sound, was home-like.
    â€œMiss Jenny asked me to come for you, Ma’am. Sir Osmond is out drivin’ this morn’, I unnerstand.”
    We asked Ashmore how he was doing. It struck me that he looked haggard and ill, and I saw that his hands trembled as he opened the door for us, though he drove the car quite steadily, in his usual deliberate way.
    â€œNot so bad, Ma’am, really, but of course there’s a lo’ of competition. I gets station work and there’s some o’ ladies has their drives reg’lar, but many peopah wants a more up-to-date lookin’ car. They don’ trust an o’ bus like this for long distances, meanin’ no offence, o’ course, to Sir Osmond. It was a good car in its day.”
    â€œIt still runs beautifully,” Carol said. “I’m sure you look after it well.”
    â€œThat I do, Missie!” the old coachman declared earnestly with a brief smile. “If anything went wrong wi’ it, where shou’ I be?” His face sagged again into tired lines.
    I asked him if there were any chance of getting a new car soon.
    â€œNot that I can see,” he replied gloomily. “I paid a good price for this ’un, considerin’ the age, an’ a car like this is worth nothin’ in the market now.”
    I was so surprised that I blurted out, “Why, I thought Sir Osmond gave you the car?”
    Ashmore seemed embarrassed. “You see, Ma’am, it’s like this-ere. Gennlemen like Sir Osmond, who’ve no concern with the motor trade an’ don’ buy a car every year or so, like some do, they don’ hardly unnerstand the way these garages do business. If you’ve got an o’ car to get rid of an’ you’re minded to buy a new one that costs a good sum, they allow you a top price for your o’ car, just to encourage you like. Mebbe more’n you’d ever get if you so’ it for cash. Weh, the garage named the sum they’d allow on this Daimler an’ Sir Osmond, knowin’ ’twas a good car an’ had cost him a tidy lot, he said to me, ‘Ashmore,’ he says, ‘you can have the Daimler for that; it’s trade price an’ a bargain for you.’ Weh, Ma’am, it was in a way, me knowin’ the car an’ knowin’ it’d bin weh handled. But it was a fair sight of money to pay an’ I dunno when I see it back, with the wife so poorly an’ aw.”
    â€œBut, Ashmore, why didn’t you tell Sir Osmond that the price was too high?” Carol exclaimed. “Of course it was! If grandfather had tried to sell the old car he’d never have got anything like what the garage offered. I know all about it. Why, you might have got a more up-to-date car for less than you paid for this!”
    â€œWeh, Missie, I couldn’t bargain with Sir Osmond like. No doubt he meant weh. I don’ want to complain. Don’ quite know how I let it aw out! I wouldn’t not for anything have it come to the ears of Sir Osmond what I’ve bin saying! I hope, Missie, that you—nor you, Ma’am, neither—won’ speak to Sir Osmond about it. Mebbe things’uh mend.”
    I asked him about his wife and family and we talked no more about the car. But I gathered that he had had a lot of expense over his wife’s illness and was really desperately anxious. Otherwise I am sure he