Chapters (24)
- Cover Page
- Dedication
- Cast of Characters
- CHAPTER 1The Plume of Feathers
- CHAPTER 2Advance by Watchman
- CHAPTER 3Further Advance by Watchman
- CHAPTER 4The Evening in Question
- CHAPTER 5Failure by Mr Legge
- CHAPTER 6Inquest
- CHAPTER 7Complaint from a Publican
- CHAPTER 8Alleyn at Illington
- CHAPTER 9Alleyn at the Feathers
- CHAPTER 10The Tumbler and the Dart
- CHAPTER 11Routine
- CHAPTER 12Curious Behaviour of Mr Legge
- CHAPTER 13Miss Darragh Stands firm
- CHAPTER 14Crime and Mr Legge
- CHAPTER 15Love Interest
- CHAPTER 16Alleyn Exceeds His Duty
- CHAPTER 17Mr Fox Takes Sherry
- CHAPTER 18Mr Legge Commits a Misdemeanour
- CHAPTER 19The Chief Constable as Watson
- CHAPTER 20Conjecture into Fact
- About the Publisher
‘I wonder if old Pomeroy’s statement’s correct. I wonder if he did make a bloomer with the rat poison, and is simply trying to save his face.’
‘His indignation seemed to me to be supremely righteous. I fancy he thinks he’s innocent.’
‘Somebody else may have mucked about with the bottle and won’t own up,’ Fox speculated.
‘Possible. But who’d muck about with hydrocyanic acid for the sheer fun of the thing?’
‘The alternative,’ said Fox, ‘is murder.’
‘Is it? Well, you bumble off and brood on it. You must be one of those zealous officers who rise to the top of the profession.’
‘Well, sir,’ said Fox, ‘it’s funny. On the face of it, it’s funny.’
‘Run away and laugh at it, then. I’m going home, Br’er Fox.’
But when Fox had gone Alleyn sat and stared at the top of his desk. At last he drew a sheet of paper towards him and began to write.
‘Dear Nick,—It’s some time since we met and you’ll wonder why the devil I’m writing. A friend of yours has just called on us, Abel Pomeroy of the Plume of Feathers, Ottercombe. He’s in a state of injury and fury and is determined to get to the bottom of the Luke Watchman business. I tried to fob him off with fair words but it wasn’t a howling success and he’s gone away with every intention of making things hum until you lug a murderer home to justice. I thought I’d just warn you, but you’ll probably hear from him before this reaches you. Don’t, for the love of Mike, think we want to butt in. How are you? I envy you your job, infuriated innkeepers and all. In this weather we suffocate at C1.
Yours ever, Roderick Alleyn’
Alleyn sealed and stamped this letter. He took his hat and stick from the wall, put on one glove, pulled it off again, cursed, and went to consult the newspaper files for the reports on the death of Luke Watchman.
An hour passed. It is significant that when he finally left the Yard and walked rapidly down the Embankment, his lips were pursed in a soundless whistle.
CHAPTER 8
Alleyn at Illington
Superintendent Nicholas Harper to Chief Detective-Inspector Alleyn: