Lynn Brock - The Deductions of Colonel Gore

‘Yes. When will you see him?’

‘I can go and see him now. Ring up first and find out if he’s at home—and go round straightaway if he is.’

‘I wish you would, Wick,’ she said gratefully. ‘You are a dear old thing. It would be such a relief if I could know that there was even a chance of escaping from this nightmare before I go to Surrey.’

‘You’re going away to Surrey?’

‘Yes. Tomorrow. I’m going up to the Hescotts for Georgie’s wedding. Of course I could cancel it. But Georgie would be most frightfully hurt. She was one of my bridesmaids, you see— And, of course, we’ve always been tremendous pals. I was so sure that all my troubles were to end last night. Do you really think you could see Mr Barrington this afternoon?’

‘I’ll go and ring him up now, if I may. Where’s your telephone?’

‘I’ll show you.’

She rose to her feet, visibly consoled by relief from the despair of inaction.

‘If you don’t see him this afternoon—’

‘I’ll see him some time today. You may rely upon that.’

The murmur of voices on the stairs halted him as he opened the door.

‘The Barracombes,’ said Mrs Melhuish impatiently.

‘Barracombes?’

‘General Barracombe’s girls. They live next door.’

Two fashionably-attired young women appeared in breathless excitement.

‘Barbara, dear,’ exclaimed one, ‘such a dreadful thing has happened poor Mr Barrington! Janet and I have just found him sitting in his car, just outside our door … dead.’

‘At least we’re nearly sure he’s dead,’ broke in her sister. ‘Your husband has gone out to him. We came at once to get him to go out. Isn’t it dreadful? Of course, he may be only unconscious—he may have had a fainting fit or something like that. My dear, I’m positively shaking all over. It gave me such a shock. You see, we spoke to him—at least Hilda spoke to him, and he didn’t answer. And then I thought he looked queer, somehow … and I got up on the footboard and touched his arm. I saw then by his face—’

Her sister checked her. Mrs Melhuish had gone very white suddenly and caught at a chair to steady herself.

‘There—now we’ve frightened you, rushing in this way. Perhaps it is only a fainting fit or something like that. Though I don’t think so. Do you, Janet?’

‘No. I touched his hand. Oh … I shall never forget how deadly cold it felt. I’m sure he’s dead.’

She shuddered luxuriously, rearranging her furs.

Mrs Melhuish had recovered her composure now.

‘How dreadful,’ she murmured. ‘This is a very old friend of mine … Colonel Gore.’

The two young women—they were obviously the kind of sisters who existed in duet—produced beaming smiles of perhaps a second’s duration, and then eclipsed them again to a becoming solemnity. Janet Barracombe stole to the door to peep down into the hall from behind the portière

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