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"I'never heard them myself," Miss Biddle confessed, "but I know who did, and that's my daily woman. But weren't they heard after the death?"

"What kind of witness would she make? I mean, is she the kind to exaggerate what she heard?"

"Oh, yes, certainly. On the other hand, she certainly did hear something. I put down in my commonplace book what she said at the time, and I attach importance to it because it was the first that anybody heard, it seems, of that part of the hauntings, so that it could not have been the result of hearsay, or owing anything to village gossip."

Mrs. Bradley mentally blessed the commonplace book, of which she had heard on her previous visit, and begged that it might be produced. The entry was not dated—a point not of very great importance, since Cousin Tom's death was referred to, and this fixed the time sufficiently for those circumstances which she suspected that she was investigating.

The entry read: Mrs. Gubb very excited and upset. She says she heard screams and yells from the haunted house as she came past this morning on her way here. The other day the new tenant, a Mr. Turney, fell out of a bedroom window and was killed. Mrs. Gubb says that what with one thing and another, nobody will want to go near that house, even in daylight, soon.

Mrs. Bradley asked permission to make a copy of the entry, and, having made it, autographed a copy of one of her own books at Miss Biddle's deprecating but eager request, departed, went back to the inn, carefully collated such information as she now possessed, heard half a dozen more legends of ancient hauntings from the villagers, and went off again to interview Mrs. Muriel.

"I want you to come back to that house with me, Mrs. Turney," she said. A request couched in such terms was almost bound to be refused, and Mrs. Bradley was not at all surprised to hear Cousin Muriel reply :

"Oh, no, really, really, I couldn't. You don't know what you're asking! I'll tell you anything you like about the house, but I couldn't possibly set foot in it again, and nobody ought to expect it."

As Mrs. Bradley did not expect it she inclined her head sympathetically and added :

"You came to hear of the house through Bella Foxley, and you say that she had recommended houses to you before?"

"Well, yes. She had rather a flair, Tom used to say. She found Hazy for us. You know—that house where two men of the Plague Year walk about and say, "Bring out your dead." Of course, they never did say it while we were there, and so Tom couldn't put much about it in the article he wrote. We only stayed a month, but it was a very interesting old house, and we had a good deal of success with planchette there. Although, I might tell you, I don't really like planchette. It makes me think— it almost makes me believe——"

"Did your husband ask a fee for admission to his séances?"

"Why, how else could we have lived?" asked Cousin Muriel. "He certainly did not get very much for his writing."

"Then—if you don't object to the question—did he never encounter people who were disappointed when the séance, we will say, produced no results?"

"The séances always produced results," responded Muriel. "If it wasn't one thing it would be another. That was what was so wonderful, and rather frightening, really. Tom never had what you might call a barren séance."

"Really?" said Mrs. Bradley, noting down this extraordinary fact.

"Oh, no," said Muriel eagerly. "I don't know whether you've attended many séances, but Tom could induce the spirits. He had the most wonderful powers."

"Oh? So your husband was a medium?"

"No. I was. But I could only work through him. He always said he got wonderful results with me. They used to scare me sometimes, all the same. I mean, you can go too far ... that's what people say."

"Tell me," said Mrs. Bradley after a pause, "did Miss Foxley have mediumistic powers?"

"Bella? Oh, dear no! She was terribly materialistic. She used to sit with us——"

"Always?" asked Mrs. Bradley sharply.

"Well, if she was staying in the house. Not otherwise, of course. Although Tom did say once that when I was in a trance Bella came and spoke. Oh, only her astral body or something, of course. I'm afraid I don't remember all the terms. But, at any rate, she projected herself, it seems——"

"By means of the road or the railway," was Mrs. Bradley's mental note upon this——"

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Рекс Стаут, создатель знаменитого цикла детективных произведений о Ниро Вулфе, большом гурмане, страстном любителе орхидей и одном из самых великих сыщиков, описанных когда-либо в литературе, на этот раз поручает расследование запутанных преступлений частному детективу Текумсе Фоксу, округ Уэстчестер, штат Нью-Йорк.В уединенном лесном коттедже найдено тело Ридли Торпа, финансиста с незапятнанной репутацией. Энди Грант, накануне убийства посетивший поместье Торпа и первым обнаруживший труп, обвиняется в совершении преступления. Нэнси Грант, сестра Энди, обращается к Текумсе Фоксу, чтобы тот снял с ее брата обвинение в несовершённом убийстве. Фокс принимается за расследование («Смерть дублера»).Очень плохо для бизнеса, когда в банки с качественным продуктом кто-то неизвестный добавляет хинин. Частный детектив Эми Дункан берется за это дело, но вскоре ее отстраняют от расследования. Перед этим машина Эми случайно сталкивается с машиной Фокса – к счастью, без серьезных последствий, – и девушка делится с сыщиком своими подозрениями относительно того, кто виноват в порче продуктов. Виновником Эми считает хозяев фирмы, конкурирующей с компанией ее дяди, Артура Тингли. Девушка отправляется навестить дядю и находит его мертвым в собственном офисе… («Плохо для бизнеса»)Все началось со скрипки. Друг Текумсе Фокса, бывший скрипач, уговаривает частного детектива поучаствовать в благотворительной акции по покупке ценного инструмента для молодого скрипача-виртуоза Яна Тусара. Фокс не поклонник музыки, но вместе с другом он приходит в Карнеги-холл, чтобы послушать выступление Яна. Концерт проходит как назло неудачно, и, похоже, всему виной скрипка. Когда после концерта Фокс с товарищем спешат за кулисы, чтобы утешить Яна, они обнаруживают скрипача мертвым – он застрелился на глазах у свидетелей, а скрипка в суматохе пропала («Разбитая ваза»).

Рекс Тодхантер Стаут

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