|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 100
"I can manage without your assistance," said Baxter.
"Very good, sir."
Leaning against the wall, Ashe watched him with silent interest,
as he burrowed among the contents of the basket, like a terrier
digging for rats. The Earl of Emsworth took no notice of the
proceedings. He yawned plaintively, and pottered about the room.
He was one of Nature's potterers.
The scrutiny of the man whom he had now placed definitely as a
malefactor irritated Baxter. Ashe was looking at him in an
insufferably tolerant manner, as if he were an indulgent father
brooding over his infant son while engaged in some childish
frolic. He lodged a protest.
"Don't stand there staring at me!"
"I was interested in what you were doing, sir."
"Never mind! Don't stare at me in that idiotic way."
"May I read a book, sir?"
"Yes, read if you like."
"Thank you, sir."
Ashe took a volume from the butler's slenderly stocked shelf. The
shoe-expert resumed his investigations in the basket. He went
through it twice, but each time without success. After the second
search he stood up and looked wildly about the room. He was as
certain as he could be of anything that the missing piece of
evidence was somewhere within those four walls. There was very
little cover in the room, even for so small a fugitive as a shoe.
He raised the tablecloth and peered beneath the table.
"Are you looking for Mr. Beach, sir?" said Ashe. "I think he has
gone to church."
Baxter, pink with his exertions, fastened a baleful glance upon
him.
"You had better be careful," he said.
At this point the Earl of Emsworth, having done all the pottering
possible in the restricted area, yawned like an alligator.
"Now, my dear Baxter--" he began querulously.
Baxter was not listening. He was on the trail. He had caught
sight of a small closet in the wall, next to the mantelpiece, and
it had stimulated him.
"What is in this closet?"
"That closet, sir?"
"Yes, this closet." He rapped the door irritably.
"I could not say, sir. Mr. Beach, to whom the closet belongs,
possibly keeps a few odd trifles there. A ball of string,
perhaps. Maybe an old pipe or something of that kind. Probably
nothing of value or interest."
"Open it."
"It appears to be locked, sir--"
"Unlock it."
"But where is the key?"
Baxter thought for a moment.
"Lord Emsworth," he said, "I have my reasons for thinking that
this man is deliberately keeping the contents of this closet from
me. I am convinced that the shoe is in there. Have I your leave
to break open the door?"
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|