The Red House Mystery by Milne, A. A. (Alan Alexander), 1882-1956

This Etext prepared by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer.

TO JOHN VINE MILNE MY DEAR FATHER,

Like all really nice people, you have a weakness for detective stories, and feel that there are not enough of them. So, after all that you have done for me, the least that I can do for you is to write you one. Here it is: with more gratitude and affection than I can well put down here.

A.A.M.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

I. MRS. STEVENS IS FRIGHTENED

II. MR. GILLINGHAM GETS OUT AT THE WRONG STATION

III. TWO MEN AND A BODY

IV. THE BROTHER FROM AUSTRALIA

V. MR. GILLINGHAM CHOOSES A NEW PROFESSION

VI. OUTSIDE OR INSIDE?

VII. PORTRAIT OF A GENTLEMAN

VIII. "DO YOU FOLLOW ME, WATSON?"

IX. POSSIBILITIES OF A CROQUET SET

X. MR. GILLINGHAM TALKS NONSENSE

XI. THE REVEREND THEODORE USSHER

XII. A SHADOW ON THE WALL

XIII. THE OPEN WINDOW

XIV. MR. BEVERLEY QUALIFIES FOR THE STAGE

XV. MRS. NORBURY CONFIDES IN DEAR MR. GILLINGHAM

XVI. GETTING READY FOR THE NIGHT

XVII. MR. BEVERLEY TAKES THE WATER

XVIII. GUESS-WORK

XIX. THE INQUEST

XX. MR. BEVERLEY IS TACTFUL

XXI. CAYLEY'S APOLOGY

XXII. MR. BEVERLEY MOVES ON

CHAPTER I

Mrs. Stevens is Frightened

In the drowsy heat of the summer afternoon the Red House was taking its siesta. There was a lazy murmur of bees in the flower-borders, a gentle cooing of pigeons in the tops of the elms. From distant lawns came the whir of a mowing-machine, that most restful of all country sounds; making ease the sweeter in that it is taken while others are working.

It was the hour when even those whose business it is to attend to the wants of others have a moment or two for themselves. In the housekeeper's room Audrey Stevens, the pretty parlour-maid, re-trimmed her best hat, and talked idly to her aunt, the cook-housekeeper of Mr. Mark Ablett's bachelor home.

"For Joe?" said Mrs. Stevens placidly, her eye on the hat. Audrey nodded. She took a pin from her mouth, found a place in the hat for it, and said, "He likes a bit of pink."

"I don't say I mind a bit of pink myself," said her aunt. "Joe Turner isn't the only one."

"It isn't everybody's colour," said Audrey, holding the hat out at arm's length, and regarding it thoughtfully. "Stylish, isn't it?"

"Oh, it'll suit you all right, and it would have suited me at your age. A bit too dressy for me now, though wearing better than some other people, I daresay. I was never the one to pretend to be what I wasn't. If I'm fifty-five, I'm fifty-five --that's what I say."

"Fifty-eight, isn't it, auntie?"

"I was just giving that as an example," said Mrs. Stevens with great dignity.

Audrey threaded a needle, held her hand out and looked at her nails critically for a moment, and then began to sew.