The Unbelievers by Alastair Sim

as it was, he walked gently up the stairs, hearing only the softest flexing of the wood of the narrow steps. He opened the door to the bedroom and heard the quiet chirruping of baby Stephen talking infant nonsense to himself in his sleep and Margaret’s rhythmic, shallow breathing.
    He took off his clothes and let them fall randomly to the floor, lifting the blankets and creeping into bed beside her. As the steel mesh of the bedsprings creaked Margaret’s breathing was interrupted for a second then settled back to its former rhythm. He put his arm around her, feeling her thin, feverish body under his hand.
    His mind still wrestled with the conflicts of the day, and its anticipation of the difficulties of tomorrow. But there was a clearer sensation underlying the mind’s noise now, a feeling which he could capture in a word.
    Home.

Chapter 11
    â€œNo, Allerdyce. No.”
    â€œSir, I need to interview the deceased’s widow and brothers. They may be able to make inferences from the telegram.”
    Superintendent Burgess stood at the window of his office, side-on to Allerdyce, the grey light from the overcast sky making him look old and sick.
    He turned back to face Allerdyce, who stood at the opposite side of the great desk.
    â€œLook, Archibald, I’m sorry I blew up at you yesterday. I know it’s not your fault that someone decided to kill the Duke. If Dr Mackay’s right, he was probably dead for three nights before I even sent you to look for him.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œAnd take a seat, for God’s sake, man. It makes me uncomfortable to see you standing there like a schoolboy about to get a thrashing.”
    The Superintendent sat down in his leather swivel chair. Allerdyce sat on the simpler chair at the other side of the desk. Burgess put his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes before looking up again and speaking.
    â€œI’d want to do the same thing as you right now, Allerdyce. I’ve been a policeman for over twenty years and I know the value of a quick follow-up.”
    He clasped his hands in front of him. His mouth was clenched as if, Allerdyce thought, he was in intestinal pain. Allerdyce wondered whether the Superintendent was suffering from gallstones or whether it was just the strain showing. Burgess continued.
    â€œI was a bloody good Inspector in my time, Allerdyce. So if I was in your place I wouldn’t want to be sitting here. I’d want to be out there speaking to everyone who knew anything about our deceased friend. I’d be battering doors down and calling in grasses and making it generally known that anyone who knew anything and didn’t tell me was in very serious trouble indeed.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œBut this is different. This is political.”
    â€œIt can’t be that different sir, surely. We have a murder victim, and a killer still at large.”
    â€œAs a straightforward man, I agree with you, Allerdyce. But it isn’t that simple. For a start, we don’t actually have a murder victim.”
    â€œWhat? So who did Sergeant McGillivray pull out of the well? Didn’t Mackay find a bullet in the man’s spine? We most certainly have a murder victim, sir.”
    â€œNot in public we don’t. The Chief has spoken to the Lord Advocate and the Secretary for Scotland. They’ve agreed that it would be better if, for the moment, the death was described as accidental.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œPartly out of concern for the delicacy of the Duchess’s feelings. They think her highly-refined feminine nerves may not currently be able to stand the shock of discovering that her beloved husband was murdered.”
    â€œShe already knows that her husband’s body was found down a well. If she can stand that she should be able to stand the full truth.”
    â€œQuite, Allerdyce, and as a married man I can’t say that I’ve ever felt that my wife has suffered from a delicate