Puzzle of the Pepper Tree (36 page)

They all waited, waited interminably. Loulu Hammond looked at her husband, and when she caught his eyes looked suddenly away. The minutes dragged on forever—and then the curtains parted and Candida came forth. Every eye was upon her, searching for signs of hysteria, but Candida Noring was smiling. In her fingers a dark cigarette glowed.

Another pause ensued, and then Captain Everett showed himself again. He beckoned to Peter Noel, but this time he did not speak a name. And suddenly, Noel knew!

He drew a long, deep breath and straightened his shoulders. Then he went through the curtain. The thick draperies closed behind him, while little surprised murmurs rose among the passengers. Miss Withers strolled part way across the room, but she could hear nothing.

Inside the smoking room Chief Inspector Cannon was standing quietly, his notebook put away. The captain and the first officer were also standing.

“Well?” said Noel.

The Yard man spoke in a rapid singsong. “Peter Noel, in the light of information which has been laid before me, it is my duty to arrest you for the murder of Rosemary Fraser, and it is my further duty to warn you that if found guilty of this charge you may be sentenced to death.”

Noel’s handsome face was a mask of blank surprise. His mouth opened foolishly and closed again. But his brain was working swiftly.

“Do you wish to make a statement? It is my duty to warn you that you do not need to make a statement, and that if you do it may be used against you.”

Peter Noel laughed suddenly, the fear soaking out of his heart. His hand was in the pocket of his blue uniform jacket, and as his laughter changed to a fit of coughing, he covered his mouth.

“None o’ that!” cried Cannon, stumbling against the table. His methodical mind framed an entry for his notebook. “Prisoner upon arrest attempted to dispose of evidence by swallowing.”

Noel was smiling. He held out his hands for nonexistent handcuffs.

“I have nothing to say except that this is a lot of bloody nonsense,” he told them quickly. “Take me on shore if you’ve got to, but somebody has filled you full of poppycock. If Rosemary Fraser was murdered, this is the first I knew of it…”

Chief Inspector Cannon had a sudden misgiving. This confident, calm voice was not that of a guilty man, not even that of a worried man. “I shall have a jolly good chance of making a charge of false arrest,” went on Noel.

“Come along, then,” he was told. The Law laid its hands upon him, and he was very briskly searched. Captain Everett fidgeted, and Jenkins protested in a loud whisper: “I tell you he was shooting dice with the doctor!”

Noel was coughing again, more realistically this time. He held back against the large brown hands of the detective. “Wait a minute,” cried Peter Noel. “Wait a minute…”

“None of tha’ tricks, now!” boomed Cannon. He realized that he was holding the prisoner’s entire weight. In his excitement the Yard man reverted to his native Lancashire. “None of tha’ tricks, lad!”

But this trick of Peter Noel’s was beyond the power of Scotland Yard. He clutched at the curtain, and staggered forward.

Women screamed in the room outside as a dead man, with his face twisted in an expression of complete and horrified surprise, plunged headlong among them.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 1933, 1971

New material copyright © 2008 by The Rue Morgue Press

Cover design by Mimi Bark

978-1-4804-1883-7

This 2013 edition distributed by MysteriousPress.com/Open Road Integrated Media

345 Hudson Street

New York, NY 10014

www.mysteriouspress.com

www.openroadmedia.com