Murder in the Telephone Exchange (63 page)

I sat there in the flickering shadows of the beech tree for some time before I remembered it, my mind wandering for the last time over scenes of violence and unhappiness, suspicion and misery. Presently I slipped

my hand down the side of the chair and drew the book out curiously. It seemed lighter and thinner to hold. On opening it, I found that all the pages had been torn out up to the present date. I turned the first leaf wonderingly, and my eyes fell on a few words written in a sprawling hand in the space allotted for the following Saturday: “‘Varsity versus Brighton Rovers at Teachers' College field. I'll call for you at 2 p.m.”

Blasted cheek was my first impression. Then I gazed at the words speculatively. Perhaps it might be fun to watch a basketball game, after all.

THE END