A Traitor in London. Fergus Hume
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the Manor himself was terrible beyond words. The body was carried up to the house, and the rural constable, not feeling himself competent to deal with so unusual an incident, sent for instructions to the police station at Langton.
Toward midday an inspector and constables came over to investigate. The inspector proceeded at once to the Manor and interviewed Lady Jenny. Her coolness and powers of endurance in such trying circumstances amazed even this stolid official.
She was a small, slightly-built woman, with a sylph-like figure, dark blue eyes and dark hair. Her rose-leaf skin was wonderfully delicate of tint and texture, and she looked fragile enough to be blown away by a breath of wind. She was said to be both frivolous and emotional, a shallow creature, fond of nothing but pleasure and spending money. In this emergency every one expected her to relapse into hysteria, and to be quite incapable of any control over her feelings; but, to their surprise, she was all the opposite of this, and shed hardly a tear. She received the news of the death almost apathetically, directed the body to be laid out in the bed which her husband had occupied when alive, and herself calmed the emotions of the household.
Indeed, Wilfred Burton was far more upset about the murder than was Lady Jenny. He expressed his amazement at her wonderful self-control. He was lying on the sofa in her morning-room when he spoke to her on the subject.
"Some one must manage things," said the brave little woman, "and I know well enough you're incapable, poor dear! Harold could be of use, I know, but I don't want him just now. When I do, I'll send for him."
"He was here this morning, Jenny."
"I know he was; I saw him before you were up. He told me about the finding of poor Gilbert's body."
"Who found it?"
"Branksom, the lodgekeeper. He was coming home from the village about ten last night, and took the short path through the orchards. He stumbled over a body in the dark, and lit a match to see who it was, thinking it was some drunken man. The match blew out, but he recognized Gilbert, and saw the blood on his face, so he ran back to give the alarm. Harold, who was at the 'Chequers,' heard of the murder, and came with a man to remove the body. In fact, he was the first to arrive, and he examined the corpse before the rest came up."
Wilfred, a pale-faced, delicate-looking young man, with large, dark eyes, and a hectic flush on his face, shuddered at the calmness with which Lady Jenny went into these details. "I don't know how you can do it!" he gasped, putting his hand to his throat like a hysterical woman. "It is terrible. And I thought you were so fond of Gilbert."
"Yes, I was fond of him," said Lady Jenny, with emphasis, "but I learned something about him lately which rather checked my fondness."
"What?"
"Something that concerned our two selves only. Wilfred. Poor Gilbert! He is dead, so I suppose I must forgive him."
"I wonder who killed him?" said Wilfred.
"I wonder. Of course Gilbert made many enemies."
"Political enemies?"
"Yes, and private ones also. My dear Wilfred," said Lady Jenny, laying her hand on the young man's arm, "I wish to speak well of the dead, especially as the dead was my husband, but Gilbert was not a good man."
Wilfred looked at her doubtfully. "You speak as though you knew something."
"So I do; but that something has nothing to do, with the murder. I have no more idea who killed him than you have."
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