The Jade God by Alan Sullivan (snow like ashes series txt) 📕

coming to that. The witnesses were narrowed to five: Mrs. Millicent and her daughter, Dr. Henry, Perkins, and Martin. I’ll take them in their order, so Mrs. Millicent comes first. She told a very simple story. Her husband was forty-five, and the latter part of their married life had been spent at Beech Lodge. He had at one time a very comfortable income, which latterly had been reduced by speculations. They were not, however, in difficult circumstances, although she seemed to know very little of his financial affairs. He was always much interested in anything that had to do with the Orient. So far as she was aware he had no enemies. He spent a good deal of his time in the garden and often went for long walks, always alone. Since his last trip to the East, from which he returned five years before his death, he seemed to have some kind of worry, of which he would never speak, or explain. Letters had arrived for him from Singapore, at which his worry seemed to increase; but he always destroyed these and never referred to their contents. From what I make of it, he was up to his eyes in something he found it necessary to conceal from those he cared for most. There had been no hard words with any of the staff, and no stranger had been at the house that day so far as we could learn.”

“I understand that Mrs. Millicent engaged Perkins, while later on her husband employed Martin. How much later?”

“About a year.”

“So that any collusion between them before this is improbable?”

“I should say so; and it seems that they took very little notice of each other at any time.”

“Then, as far as we have gone, the period between the actual moment of the murder and the time when Perkins notified Mrs. Millicent is unaccounted for.”

Burke nodded. “Exactly!”

“Before we go on to the other evidence, can you tell me whether anything was missed after the murder?”

The sergeant opened another envelope, extracting a sheet of brown paper some eighteen inches long.

“This is a drawing made by Mrs. Millicent of a thing that her husband used as a paper-knife. It’s not been found since that night.”

Derrick took it eagerly and scrutinized the outline of a murderous-looking weapon. Its curving blade must have measured a foot, being chopped off at the point in a curious and characteristic fashion. The handle was heavy and carried a short guard. Its deadly curve was unmistakable.

“By George!” he said. “That’s a Malay kris!”

“Yes, Mr. Millicent got it in the East and seemed to attach some kind of sentimental value to it. He always kept it on his desk. Of course, it may be that it was there for protection, though the average man would have preferred a revolver. On the other hand, you can see what chance anyone would have against a thing like that.”

“Then there are two assumptions,” answered Derrick thoughtfully, “one that the person who committed the crime knew that this thing was on the desk available for his purpose; the other, that he came without any evil intent, but a dispute developed and in a burst of anger he picked up the kris, and struck.”

“And there’s just one person to whom both of those cases might apply, at ten o’clock at night,” said Burke grimly, “the person against whom we have no evidence.”

“I agree with that. Did anything else disappear at the same time?”

“So far as we know only one thing, and that apparently not of any importance. It was a sort of little toy image, about three or four inches high, that Mr. Millicent used as a paperweight. It was carved out of a block of jade. He used to joke about it in a queer sort of way and say it was more valuable than they knew. Sometimes it was on his desk, but only when he was in the room himself. At other times he used to hide it away; but no one ever knew where. He never talked about it, except in that joking manner. It seems to have been an ugly-looking thing, too, but Mrs. Millicent could not make a drawing of it.”

A sudden light danced in Derrick’s eyes. “Then there was no concealment about this?”

“No more than that it used to be stowed away, and he’d never allow it to be touched. You know how men sometimes get queer ideas about things?”

“Yes, I know.”

“And it’s generally something quite unimportant. Well, it was like that with this image. Matter of fact, it was so ugly that no one in the house seemed to want to touch it, except Perkins.”

“Ah!” said Derrick slowly. His eyes were very keen. “Now, there are a few other questions I’d like to ask, but first you might tell me what other evidence was given.”

The sergeant glanced out of the window. “That’s queer! I was going to say that Miss Millicent couldn’t tell us anything important, and there she is now.”

Derrick looked up. The girl was just abreast of the tiny office, walking slowly. Involuntarily she turned her head, and their eyes met. Color mounted to her cheeks, and she bowed. Derrick went out to her quickly. There were no preliminaries.

“May we come over in a few days? I think perhaps you could help then.” He spoke as though their last conversation had only been interrupted.

“Do!” she nodded.

“And till then I hope you’re not worrying, or anxious?”

She shook her head, smiled, and sent him a look of complete confidence. “Would it seem odd if I said that I worry less now than in the past two years?”

“I’m so glad of that!”

“It’s quite true. I’m happier, and so is mother. I”⁠—she hesitated a little⁠—“I think we don’t feel so horribly alone.”

“You’re not.” His voice was queerly strained. “Indeed, you’re not.”

She glanced at him again, then turned quickly away.

Derrick looked after her, following the slight figure till it came to the corner of the green. Something of him went with her, and he reentered the sergeant’s office wondering at himself.

Whatever