Sgt Beef - Case Without A Corpse Part 4

Suddenly I found myself fully awake. Here and now, if ever in my life, was my chance. Someone had entered the club-room where the corpse of young Rogers lay. Perhaps his object was to steal something from it. Perhaps he meant to remove the body itself. Whatever his plan, he must be prevented and identified. Catching him would probably clear up the whole mystery which faced Beef. And to me had been given the opportunity of actually contributing something to the investigation-

I slipped quietly from my bed, and pulled on a dressing-gown. I wondered whether to put shoes on. Being without them would give one a feeling of unprotectedness, but wearing them would make one's approach noisy. I left them behind, slowly and silently crossed the room, and got safely to the landing. Then I started to go downstairs.

It is not often that the mere chronicler of crime gets a thrill. His work is usually to attend, as unintelligently as possible, the dreary post-mortems, and to listen, without too much ac.u.men, to the elucidation offered by the masters. But during those few minutes I knew all the excitements of the chase. I was about to do my own partand an important part it would be.

My imagination played some curious tricks. Before I opened the door I was prepared to find that the dead had risen, that young Rogers himself had left that rickety sofa and was facing me across the room. I myself had seen his livid face, and touched his stone cold flesh, and knew with absolute security that he was dead. But at three o'clock in the morning, roused from sleep by a noise in the room where his corpse lay, I was prepared to believe anything.

I had my hand on the k.n.o.b of the club-room door, and began, very gently, to turn it. I did not know exactly where the switch of the electric light was, but when I began to push the door open I saw that there would be enough light from the street lamp to see across the room. Suddenly I pushed the door wide open, and looked in.

The lace curtains in front of the window were blowing into the room, and the window was wide open, but no one was in sight. I found the light switch and used it, and the strong electric light failed to reveal any more. On the sofa the corpse seemed undisturbed, and I crossed to it, and pulled back the rug. Young Rogers lay as he had done when we left him. I turned away, feeling rather disturbed.

Only the open window was unusual. I went across to it and looked out on the street. There was no one in sight, and the rain blew angrily in as I stood there. I hurriedly pulled the window down, and slipped the catch across.

Someone had been in the roomthere could be no doubt of it. But who? And with what object? If they had hoped to get something from the dead man's pockets they had been disappointed, for we had emptied these ourselves in the bar. Perhaps they had had some other object in view, and I had disturbed them.

On the whole I thought it best to telephone to Beef. He wouldn't like being disturbed at this hour, but he ought to know what had happened. I went through into the sitting-room where the instrument was, and quietly, so as not to disturb any of the Simmons family, asked for his number.

I could hear the bell ringing for a long time before there was an answer. Then I heard the Sergeant's voice, sounding blurred and resentful. Wha's it? he asked.

Beefthis is Townsend. Someone has just broken into the club-room of the Mitre.

'V'you got 'im?

No.

'Ow d'you know, then?

I heard him from my room upstairs and came down. There was no one here, but the window which overlooks the street was open.

Did Simmons leave it open?

Of course he didn't. You were with him when we brought the corpse in.

That's funny.

I was. tired and irritable. I don't know about its being funny, I said. I don't see much fun in being woken up at this time of night. What are you going to do?

Do? What 'you mean, do?

Well. ...

It wasn't a very lucid conversation. I don't see what I can do. You say 'e's cleared off. What can be done?

I was about to slam down the receiver in disgust when Beef spoke again.

Tell you what, he said, as though he had just had an inspiration, I'll send a constable round. 'E'll look after it. You wait there. ...

And before I could answer, he, and not I, had replaced his receiver.

The situation was absurd, but very unpleasant. I did not like to go back to bed till the constable had made his appearance, since he would probably wake the whole household if there was no one there. I felt that my old friend Beef had been given the luck of what might be another big case, and was mis-handling it badly. I was in a sour and angry mood as I waited in that bare room with the corpse of young Rogers for company.

But it was not long before, on going to the window, I saw a young policeman striding down the road. I opened the window again, relieved to find that there was a momentary lull in the rain. I found myself looking at a young, rather handsome, fellow, with the build and features of a boxer.

Sergeant Beef sent me round, sir, he said.

Good. And I told him what had happened.

He grinned pleasantly, and one could not imagine that he had just been called from his sleep to face this unpleasant night.

That's all right, sir, he said. I'll carry on! You go back to bed.

Which, gladly enough, I did.

CHAPTER V.

I AWOKE next morning to find that the rain had ceased and the wind dropped. There was even a feeble attempt at winter sunlight. But when I got down to breakfast, I found Mrs. Simmons walking about on tip-toe, and speaking in whispers. It seemed that she wished to be conscious of a corpse in the house.

Sergeant Beef arrived about ten o'clock, looking very dejected.

Well? I asked him as I emptied my last cup of tea, and lit a cigarette.

I've been on to 'em, he said, and only got it in the neck for my trouble. It seems as this isn't regarded as anythink out of the way. I got to trace young Rogers's movements yesterday, and find out 'oo 'e's done for.

I rather thought that view might be taken, I said. It seemed to me last night that you were getting worked up too soon. After all, it was only yesterday that the murder happened. The corpse must come to light. How could he have got rid of it otherwise? Or else you'll , hear who's missing.

P'raps you're right. I 'ope so, anyway. On'y there's several things I don't like about the 'ole business. Why didn't young Rogers say 'oo it was 'e'd murdered? 'E'd decided to confess and then poison 'isself. It would 'ave 'een just as easy for 'im to 'ave said, 'I've killed so-and-so,' as to 'ave just said 'e'd committed a murder, wouldn't it?

Well, if it turns out to be his aunt, it's understandable. That would have been too much for him to have admitted.

I don't believe it was his aunt, some'ow. Anyway, she's due in on the eleven-fifteen, and I'm going down to the station to see if she turns up.

I'll come with you, I said.

Only last night I had decided to get back to London, and escape the investigation of this all too sordid affair. But after my nocturnal part in it, I couldn't somehow. My curiosity was thoroughly aroused.

We set out from the Mitre and walked through the busy central street of the little town. The Sergeant answered greetings in an almost surly mannerhe was noticeably out of spirits. His liver, I fancied, was not always in the best of conditions during the early morning, and to-day he had not had enough sleep. I glanced aside and saw that his expression was glum, his eyes a trifle bloodshot, and the fringes of his ginger moustache were damp.

On the platform was little Mr. Rogers, pacing impatiently up and down. There were still ten minutes before the train was due, so that he must have arrived early. I thought he looked shabby and pathetic, and he was too preoccupied to notice that he had stepped in a puddle at the further end of the platform. He had not seen us, and Sergeant Beef avoided him, as he made directly for the refreshment room, which had just opened.

Wot you g't'ave . . . he asked me.

I had only just finished breakfast, but Beef swallowed a beer gratefully.

That's better! he sighed, as he laid down the gla.s.s.

We went out on to the platform again to see the train approaching from the distance. By the time we reached Mr. Rogers its noise was loud enough to drown his absently mumbled good morning. But before it had stopped we saw a plump, smiling, middle-aged woman waving to him from the window of a third-cla.s.s carriage.