: The Ponson case by Crofts Freeman Wills - Detective and mystery stories; Police England Fiction; Murder Investigation Fiction

@FreeBooksMon 08 Apr, 2024

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Mystery at Luce Manor

The dying sun of a July evening shone rosily on the old Georgian house of Luce Manor, mellowing the cold grey of the masonry, bringing out with soft shadow its cornices and mouldings, and softening and blurring its hard outlines. A fine old house, finely set on the summit of a low hill, and surrounded by wonderful old trees, it seemed to stand symbolical of the peace, security, and solid comfort of upper-class rural England.

This impression was not lessened by the outlook from the terrace in front. Below, and already shadowed by the trees beyond from the sun's rays, was a small Dutch garden, its walks and beds showing up faintly in the gathering gloom. To the right the drive swept off in an easy curve until it disappeared between two rows of beeches, celebrated in all the county round for their age and size. At the side of the house, and reached through a rose pergola, was the walled English garden, with its masses of colour, its laden bushes, and its range of glass houses. In front, beyond the lawn, whose oaks and elms stood singly like sentinels guarding the house, the country rolled away to a line of distant hills, while to the left, an opening in the trees gave a glimpse of the Cranshaw River, with behind a near horizon of tree-covered slopes.

It was seldom that Sir William partook of a solitary meal. He was fond of society, and kept open house for all who cared to visit him. He had rented some shooting, and though the fishing in the river was not good, it at least was fishing. The tennis courts were always in perfect condition, and there was a sporting golf course at the neighbouring town of Halford. But it spoke well for Sir William that, of all his acquaintances, those whom he liked best to welcome were his old, somewhat unpolished business friends from the north, by few of whom these pursuits were properly appreciated. In this he had the full sympathy of his wife, a stout, placid lady of uncertain age, who ruled over his household with leisurely, easy-going sway.

Enid Ponson, their only daughter, a young woman of some thirty summers, was a favourite everywhere. Not exactly beautiful, she was yet good to look at, with her pale complexion, dark eyes, and winning smile. But it was her wonderful charm that endeared her to those with whom she came in contact, as well as the sweetness and kindliness of her disposition. That she was unmarried was only explained by the fact that the man to whom she had been engaged had been killed during the Great War. Enid and her father were close comrades and allies. She adored him, while Sir William's chief thought was centred in his daughter, upon whom he thought the sun rose and set.

When the family were alone it was Sir William's custom after dinner to join his wife and Enid in the music room, where for hours the latter would sing and play, while her father smoked cigar after cigar, and the elder woman placidly knitted or crocheted. But tonight, being entirely alone, he retired at once from the table to his library, where he would sit, reading and smoking, till about ten or later he would ring for Parkes, the butler, to bring him his nightly tumbler of hot punch.

But ten came, and half past ten, and eleven, and there was no ring.

'Boss is late tonight, Mr Parkes,' said Innes, Sir William's valet, as he and the butler sat in the latter's room over a bottle of Sir William's old port, and a couple of Sir William's three and sixpenny cigars.

The two chatted amicably enough, and under the influence of wine and tobacco time passed unnoticed until once again the clock struck.

'That's half-past eleven,' said Parkes. 'I have never known Sir William so late before. He is usually in bed by now.'

'"Early to bed, early to rise,"' quoted the valet. 'There's no accounting for tastes, Mr Parkes. I'd like to see you or me going to bed at ten-thirty and getting up at six when we needn't.'

'I don't hold with unnecessarily early hours myself,' the other agreed, and then, after a pause: 'I think I'll go and see if he wants anything. It's not like him to retire without having his punch.'

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