swallow a word of such a story, and I don't believe she would. If she does, be a man and chuck her.'
'You see,' said Richardson, ignoring this Spartan solution, 'although there's an understanding and so forth, we're not yet actually engaged and my position with her is a bit in jeopardy because I've twice stood her up in order to run.'
'I see. And you don't think she would take your word for the waiting-room episode?'
'I don't really know, but I certainly wouldn't want to chance it.'
'Well, be that as it may, how was the episode concluded?'
'That's just my trouble. Having fended off the female strong-arm, I threatened Colnbrook that if he breathed a word I'd do for him. At that he turned ugly and said, "You and who else?" Fortunately my train came in just then and I had to catch it, pursued by what the novelists call mocking laughter. Well, I didn't give the whole thing much more thought until these deaths took place. I've got wind up properly now, though, because, you see, those two dreadful girls heard me threaten him.'
'But you didn't threaten Bunt, chump! And, if there's one thing more certain than another, it is that those deaths are connected.'
'You haven't heard the worst of it,' said Richardson. He hesitated for a moment and then burst out, 'I haven't told anybody but Denis this, but the first day I was down here I saw both of them together. They were in running kit and jogging over the heath and on to the common. They had field-glasses and were planning a route or something.'
'So what?'
'So I knew they were in the neighbourhood. So, if I killed Colnbrook, I'd have had to kill Bunt to shut his mouth. Don't you see? The Superintendent will!'
INTERLUDE
'Women indeed are bitter bad Judges in these cases.'
John Gay- The Beggar's Opera
'Murder is as fashionable a Crime as a Man can be guilty of.'
Ibid
It was Ladies' Training and Practice Night on the ground and the cinder track of the Scylla and District Social and Athletic Club. Aileen Crumb and Doreen Dodds, their frequent differences forgiven but not forgotten, were practising starts, assisted (or not) by the blistering comments of the club coach. Corinna May and Dulcie Cobham had put up a couple of hurdles on the opposite side of the track and were doing their exercises, sometimes by leaning on a hurdle and putting a knee on it, sometimes by taking a stylish couple of flights and sometimes by sitting on the ground and performing the heathenish contortions necessary to the perfecting of their art.
Keeping well away from all four or, (counting the coach), all five of the above, were a couple of distance runners named Judy and Syl. These were jogging round the track on the two inside lanes, deep in conversation.
'I can't help saying it,' observed Judy. 'Why two of them? It makes you think a bit. Somebody got it in for the club. Hope they stop at the men. It makes me nervous.'
'You can't count old Bobo Bunt. He resigned from the club a long time ago.'
'Got thrown out, you mean.'
'Now then, dear, no nasturtiums!'
'Well, he did get thrown out, too. Don't you remember...?'
'What about Bert and Carrie, then? You know, I reckon that was what touched everything off! Don't you remember that row in the station waiting-room?'
'We only heard Bert's side of it, remember. I must say I thought that posh Oxford boy was all right, and, of course, Penny the Putt would do anything for a laugh.'
'I know all about that, but there was something funny going on, else Bert wouldn't have got croaked. Personally, I don't believe it was murder. I reckon he done it himself, Oxford boy or no Oxford boy.'
'What makes you say that?'
'I reckon Bert suffered from remorse.'
'What about? Anyway, Bert wouldn't feel remorse. He was the dirtiest runner in the club. Only wish I had his technique.'
'What, crowding people on bends and using his elbows and his spikes and pushing people on the grass?'
'Well, he usually won, didn't he?'
'Oh, go on with you, Judy! That ain't
'You see,' said Richardson, ignoring this Spartan solution, 'although there's an understanding and so forth, we're not yet actually engaged and my position with her is a bit in jeopardy because I've twice stood her up in order to run.'
'I see. And you don't think she would take your word for the waiting-room episode?'
'I don't really know, but I certainly wouldn't want to chance it.'
'Well, be that as it may, how was the episode concluded?'
'That's just my trouble. Having fended off the female strong-arm, I threatened Colnbrook that if he breathed a word I'd do for him. At that he turned ugly and said, "You and who else?" Fortunately my train came in just then and I had to catch it, pursued by what the novelists call mocking laughter. Well, I didn't give the whole thing much more thought until these deaths took place. I've got wind up properly now, though, because, you see, those two dreadful girls heard me threaten him.'
'But you didn't threaten Bunt, chump! And, if there's one thing more certain than another, it is that those deaths are connected.'
'You haven't heard the worst of it,' said Richardson. He hesitated for a moment and then burst out, 'I haven't told anybody but Denis this, but the first day I was down here I saw both of them together. They were in running kit and jogging over the heath and on to the common. They had field-glasses and were planning a route or something.'
'So what?'
'So I knew they were in the neighbourhood. So, if I killed Colnbrook, I'd have had to kill Bunt to shut his mouth. Don't you see? The Superintendent will!'
INTERLUDE
'Women indeed are bitter bad Judges in these cases.'
John Gay- The Beggar's Opera
'Murder is as fashionable a Crime as a Man can be guilty of.'
Ibid
It was Ladies' Training and Practice Night on the ground and the cinder track of the Scylla and District Social and Athletic Club. Aileen Crumb and Doreen Dodds, their frequent differences forgiven but not forgotten, were practising starts, assisted (or not) by the blistering comments of the club coach. Corinna May and Dulcie Cobham had put up a couple of hurdles on the opposite side of the track and were doing their exercises, sometimes by leaning on a hurdle and putting a knee on it, sometimes by taking a stylish couple of flights and sometimes by sitting on the ground and performing the heathenish contortions necessary to the perfecting of their art.
Keeping well away from all four or, (counting the coach), all five of the above, were a couple of distance runners named Judy and Syl. These were jogging round the track on the two inside lanes, deep in conversation.
'I can't help saying it,' observed Judy. 'Why two of them? It makes you think a bit. Somebody got it in for the club. Hope they stop at the men. It makes me nervous.'
'You can't count old Bobo Bunt. He resigned from the club a long time ago.'
'Got thrown out, you mean.'
'Now then, dear, no nasturtiums!'
'Well, he did get thrown out, too. Don't you remember...?'
'What about Bert and Carrie, then? You know, I reckon that was what touched everything off! Don't you remember that row in the station waiting-room?'
'We only heard Bert's side of it, remember. I must say I thought that posh Oxford boy was all right, and, of course, Penny the Putt would do anything for a laugh.'
'I know all about that, but there was something funny going on, else Bert wouldn't have got croaked. Personally, I don't believe it was murder. I reckon he done it himself, Oxford boy or no Oxford boy.'
'What makes you say that?'
'I reckon Bert suffered from remorse.'
'What about? Anyway, Bert wouldn't feel remorse. He was the dirtiest runner in the club. Only wish I had his technique.'
'What, crowding people on bends and using his elbows and his spikes and pushing people on the grass?'
'Well, he usually won, didn't he?'
'Oh, go on with you, Judy! That ain't
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