The White Cottage Mystery Read Free Page A

got them all together when I heard the shot. It was so near that I knew it must be in the house, and I ran round to see what it was. The french windows in the dining-room were open, and I went in. The gun was lying on the table, and on the floor, the other side, was … Oh, it’s too terrible to think of!’ She covered her face with her hands as if to block out the sight of a horror that was still before her.
    W.T. leant across the table and patted her arm soothingly.
    â€˜Never mind,’ he said. ‘Don’t think of it. Now tell me, did you know Mr Crowther well?’
    The woman looked up, a faintly scared expression in her eyes.
    â€˜He was our nearest neighbour – he used to come in to see us fairly often,’ she said at last.
    The detective nodded understandingly.
    â€˜He used to run in and out as he liked?’ he said.
    She nodded eagerly.
    â€˜Yes, that was it.’
    â€˜But you didn’t go to see him in the same way?’
    The scared expression returned.
    â€˜No,’ she said.
    The detective smiled encouragingly, his face becoming more benign and fatherly at every moment.
    â€˜How was that?’
    The woman paused for a while before she replied.
    â€˜Mr Crowther was a curious man, Mr Challoner,’ she said at last, and hesitated.
    â€˜You and your husband were not so fond of him as he was of you, perhaps?’ suggested the detective.
    â€˜Mr Crowther was not a likeable man,’ she said stiffly.
    There was silence for a moment or two, and then the detective leaned across the table.
    â€˜Mrs Christensen,’ he said, ‘believe me, I am only trying to get to the bottom of this affair to save future unpleasantness and bother. So tell me, was your husband – jealous of Mr Crowther?’
    The woman hung her head, but she did not answer, and the detective continued:
    â€˜Had he any cause?’
    Still she did not reply, and he went on speaking slowly.
    â€˜You had a note from Crowther this morning asking you to go across to the “Dene” this afternoon. Why didn’t you keep that appointment?’
    The woman stared at him, her eyes wide and horror-stricken.
    â€˜Who told – ’ she began hysterically.
    â€˜Does it matter?’ interrupted W.T. gently. ‘Now listen, Mrs Christensen. There is no need for you to answer my questions unless you like – you are not in a court of law. But there will be an inquest, and in your own interest it would be best for you to tell all you can about this affair.’
    The woman looked at him for a minute.
    â€˜I’ll tell you,’ she said impulsively, and continued breathlessly as if she could not speak quickly enough.
    â€˜Eric Crowther knew me before I married, and the year aftermy baby was born he came to live at the “Dene”, next door. Since then he has done nothing but pester me with his attentions. Naturally I did not return them. I love my husband, but I could never escape Crowther – never shake him off. I could not forbid him the house without my husband becoming suspicious, and I had no wish for that. The last month or so he has become more persistent, and I have been at my wits’ end to keep my husband from guessing the truth. This morning I had a note from him demanding that I should go over there this afternoon. I took no notice of it. The rest I have already told you.’
    There was silence in the room for a moment after her voice had died away, then the detective spoke.
    â€˜Excuse me, Mrs Christensen,’ he said, ‘but – wouldn’t it have been simpler to tell your husband all about Mr Crowther’s pursuit of you in the first place?’
    â€˜Oh no … I couldn’t do that – never – never!’ There was such insistence in her voice that a suspicion that she had not yet told the whole truth sprang instantly into the minds of her listeners.
    The detective hesitated.
    â€˜Mrs Christensen,’ he