Belling entering with relish into her part of the romance. “There's many a little thing that I hear that never goes to the police. And anything I do hear I'll pass on to you, Miss.”
“Will you really?”
“That I will. Don't ee worry, my dear, we'll have your young gentleman out of his trouble in no time.”
“I must go and pack,” said Emily rising.
“I'll send the tea up to you,” said Mrs Belling. Emily went upstairs, packed her few belongings into her suitcase, sponged her eyes with cold water and applied a liberal allowance of powder.
“You have made yourself look a sight,” she apostrophized herself in the glass. She added more powder and a touch of rouge.
“Curious,” said Emily, “how much better I feel. It's worth the puffy look.”
She rang the bell. The chambermaid (the sympathetic sister-in-law of Constable Graves) came promptly. Emily presented her with a pound note and begged her earnestly to pass on any information she might acquire in roundabout ways from police circles. The girl promised readily.
“Mrs Curtis's up to Sittaford? I will indeed, Miss. Do anything that I will. We all feel for you, Miss, more than I can say. All the time I keep saying to myself, 'Just fancy if it was you and Fred,' I keep saying. I would be distracted - that I would. The least thing I hears I'll pass it on to you, Miss.”
“You angel,” said Emily.
“Just like a sixpenny I got at Woolworth's the other day, The Syringa Murders it was called. And do you know what led them to find the real murderer, Miss? Just a bit of common sealing wax. Your gentleman is good-looking, Miss, isn't he? Quite unlike his picture in the papers. I'm sure I'll do anything I can, Miss, for you and for him.”
Thus the center of romantic attention, Emily left the Three Crowns having duly gulped down the cup of tea prescribed by Mrs Belling.
“By the way,” she said to Enderby as the aged Ford sprang forward, “you are my cousin, don't forget.”
“Why?”
“They've got such pure minds in the country,” said Emily. “I thought it would be better.”
“Splendid. In that case,” said Mr Enderby rising to his opportunities, “I had better call you Emily.”
“All right, cousin - what's your name?”
“Charles.”
“All right, Charles.”
The car went upwards on the Sittaford road.
The Sittaford Mystery
Chapter 13
SITTAFORD
Emily was rather fascinated by her first view of Sittaford. Turning off the main road about two miles from Exhampton, they went upwards over a rough moorland road until they reached a village that was situated right on the edge of the moor. It consisted of a smithy, and a combined post office and sweet shop. From there they followed a lane and came to a row of newly built small granite bungalows. At the second of these the car stopped and the driver volunteered the information that this was Mrs Curtis's.
Mrs Curtis was a small, thin, gray haired woman, energetic and shrewish in disposition. She was all agog with the news of the murder which had only penetrated to Sittaford that morning.
“Yes, of course I can take you in, Miss, and your cousin too, if he can just wait until I shift a few duds. You won't mind having your meals along of us, I don't suppose? Well, who would have believed it! Captain Trevelyan murdered and an inquest and all! Cut off from the world we've been since Friday morning, and this morning when the news came you could have knocked me down with a feather. 'The Captain's dead,' I said to Curtis, 'that shows you the wickedness there is in the world nowadays.' But I'm keeping you talking here, Miss. Come away in and the gentleman too. I have got the kettle on and you shall have a cup of tea immediately, for you must be perished by the drive up, though of course, it's warmer today after what it's been. Eight and ten feet the snow has been hereabout.”
Drowned in this sea of talk, Emily and Charles Enderby were shown their new quarters. Emily had a small square room,
“Will you really?”
“That I will. Don't ee worry, my dear, we'll have your young gentleman out of his trouble in no time.”
“I must go and pack,” said Emily rising.
“I'll send the tea up to you,” said Mrs Belling. Emily went upstairs, packed her few belongings into her suitcase, sponged her eyes with cold water and applied a liberal allowance of powder.
“You have made yourself look a sight,” she apostrophized herself in the glass. She added more powder and a touch of rouge.
“Curious,” said Emily, “how much better I feel. It's worth the puffy look.”
She rang the bell. The chambermaid (the sympathetic sister-in-law of Constable Graves) came promptly. Emily presented her with a pound note and begged her earnestly to pass on any information she might acquire in roundabout ways from police circles. The girl promised readily.
“Mrs Curtis's up to Sittaford? I will indeed, Miss. Do anything that I will. We all feel for you, Miss, more than I can say. All the time I keep saying to myself, 'Just fancy if it was you and Fred,' I keep saying. I would be distracted - that I would. The least thing I hears I'll pass it on to you, Miss.”
“You angel,” said Emily.
“Just like a sixpenny I got at Woolworth's the other day, The Syringa Murders it was called. And do you know what led them to find the real murderer, Miss? Just a bit of common sealing wax. Your gentleman is good-looking, Miss, isn't he? Quite unlike his picture in the papers. I'm sure I'll do anything I can, Miss, for you and for him.”
Thus the center of romantic attention, Emily left the Three Crowns having duly gulped down the cup of tea prescribed by Mrs Belling.
“By the way,” she said to Enderby as the aged Ford sprang forward, “you are my cousin, don't forget.”
“Why?”
“They've got such pure minds in the country,” said Emily. “I thought it would be better.”
“Splendid. In that case,” said Mr Enderby rising to his opportunities, “I had better call you Emily.”
“All right, cousin - what's your name?”
“Charles.”
“All right, Charles.”
The car went upwards on the Sittaford road.
The Sittaford Mystery
Chapter 13
SITTAFORD
Emily was rather fascinated by her first view of Sittaford. Turning off the main road about two miles from Exhampton, they went upwards over a rough moorland road until they reached a village that was situated right on the edge of the moor. It consisted of a smithy, and a combined post office and sweet shop. From there they followed a lane and came to a row of newly built small granite bungalows. At the second of these the car stopped and the driver volunteered the information that this was Mrs Curtis's.
Mrs Curtis was a small, thin, gray haired woman, energetic and shrewish in disposition. She was all agog with the news of the murder which had only penetrated to Sittaford that morning.
“Yes, of course I can take you in, Miss, and your cousin too, if he can just wait until I shift a few duds. You won't mind having your meals along of us, I don't suppose? Well, who would have believed it! Captain Trevelyan murdered and an inquest and all! Cut off from the world we've been since Friday morning, and this morning when the news came you could have knocked me down with a feather. 'The Captain's dead,' I said to Curtis, 'that shows you the wickedness there is in the world nowadays.' But I'm keeping you talking here, Miss. Come away in and the gentleman too. I have got the kettle on and you shall have a cup of tea immediately, for you must be perished by the drive up, though of course, it's warmer today after what it's been. Eight and ten feet the snow has been hereabout.”
Drowned in this sea of talk, Emily and Charles Enderby were shown their new quarters. Emily had a small square room,
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