Calamity in Kent, A British Library Crime Classic by John Rowland Page B

glanced at the bookcase. They were, however, likely to be looking merely for the hidden document, folded inside a novel, or that sort of thing. The book which, to my mind, stuck out a mile, they would not notice, because they were not looking for that sort of thing.
    So I thought that I had really obtained all that I wanted. The way in which I have described it here may make my search sound very perfunctory, but the fact is that I spent some considerable time in hunting there, but found so little of any real value that it seemed to me almost as if my trip to town had been almost wasted. Indeed, if it had not been for the notebook I should have thought that it was so.

Chapter X
    In Which I Examine Two Notebooks
    My landlady at Broadgate was a pleasant old soul. She must have been completely mystified by my apparent disappearance. For, you must remember, I had set out that morning for a pre-breakfast walk, and had immediately got mixed up in this mysterious case. It was teatime when I got back, bearing the two all-important notebooks.
    â€œMr. London!” she exclaimed as she met me in the hall on my return. “I thought that you had got lost. I was thinking of going to the police about you.”
    I grinned rather shamefacedly. “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Cecil,” I said. “You see, I met an old friend of mine from Fleet Street, and he rushed me off to London. It was a matter of a possible job, where I had to get there without delay. Only by getting there quickly was it possible to be sure that I should be considered. And I’m nearly well now, you know, so that I could go into the matter.”
    â€œAnd did you get the job?” she asked, looking at me, I thought, rather suspiciously. Indeed, my tale must have sounded rather thin.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œOh, I am glad,” she said. And she sounded as if she meant it.
    â€œIt’s with The Daily Wire ,” I explained. Indeed, she must know soon, for the articles with my name at the top of them would very soon be appearing. There was no point in trying to keep the matter secret from her.
    â€œI’m glad,” she said again. “And when do you start?” I saw that what was worrying her was the matter of the room which I was occupying. She was mentally envisaging a “long let” suddenly drying up.
    â€œOh, I shall be doing the work from here for the moment, Mrs. Cecil,” I said. “You see, it’s a sort of special correspondent job. I shan’t have to attend the office regularly, not to begin with, anyhow.” I knew that the whole background of newspaper work would be completely foreign to her, and she would be compelled to take on trust what I told her. And anyhow it was sure enough that as soon as she saw the first of my contributions to The Daily Wire she would realise that I had only told the truth about my connection with the paper.
    Now, however, my main concern was to get away from her, and do something with the two black notebooks that seemed almost to be burning holes in my pocket.
    â€œWill you have some tea?” she asked.
    â€œDo you think that you could get a tray sent up to my room, Mrs. Cecil?” I asked. “You see, I have some rather important work to do for my paper, and I can get on with it only if you can get my tea to me up there, so that I can have my tea while I am working.”
    â€œI’ll do it, sir,” she said. “But don’t forget that you’ve been very ill. Don’t overdo it; I’ve met too many people who have overworked too soon when they have left hospital, you know.” And the old soul meant it, I knew. She really thought that I was an invalid, who should be looked after.
    Still, I was not going to waste any more time over reassuring her. I had wasted enough time in conversation already. I knew that I should have to turn these books over to Shelley later in the day. And I was determined to get out of them everything that I could