The Cinema Murder

ilip had taken his place at the dinner table th

d, "do you happen to have seen the wireless messages to-d

, in which he had been t

gh them this afterno

now whether you noticed it. It announced the mysterious disappearance of a young man of the same name as

ed. "It certainly looks as though i

e almost impressive in h

tle incident I happened to have noticed on the way from London to Liverpool, about the two men somewhere in Derbyshire whom I had

absently to whisky and soda f

sional interest in the

queer about the affair. Listen! I have been putting two and two together, and it s

ok his hea

hink so,"

yshire-and it was a canal, too, one of the filthiest I ever saw. Can't you realise the dramatic interest of the situation now that you are confronted with t

consumption of his first course,

ions, and at times he won't speak to us. But of one thing I am perfectly convinced, and that is that there is no man in the world who would be less likely to make away with himself. He has a nervous horror of death or pain of any sort, and in his pec

er poured upon his melodramatic imaginings. He turned to E

n't you think that, under the circumstances, I o

a way that a less sensitive man than Mr. Raymond Greene

e observed. "You carry the melodramatic instinct with you, day

n yourself, and you've probably read about the case of mysterious dis

than yours and I could see the two men distinctly, whilst you could only see their figures. One of them, the better-dressed, was fair a

reene was a l

so at the time

ng anything of Mr. Romilly's cousin, I don't think any person in the world could

n't suicide at all. I maintain that the situation as I saw it

y in the world except him

if either of those two men could possibly have been an art teacher…. Can I have a lit

ppeared to be a positive disap

lly enough become distressing to our young friend here. Tell you what I'll do to show my penitence. I shall order a bottle of wine

away his whi

r Philip's welfare, with pleasure, although he

ed a wealth of adjectives, and of which he himself was humanly and personally conscious. She wore a high-necked gown of some soft, black material, with a little lace at her throat fastened by her only article of jewellery, a pearl pin. Her hair was arranged in coils, with a simplicity and a precision which to a more experienced observer would have indicated the possession of a maid of no ordinary qualities. Her mouth became more and more delightful every time he studied it; her voice, even her met

"why were all my first

elation to me. You are

ughed

than show you myself as

e so many women

d struggling with this wind and the darkness, we will have our walk. There!" she added, as they stood in the companionway. "No

of one wrapped in silence. So they walked almost the whole length of the deck. Philip, indeed, had no impulse or desire for speech. All his aching nerves were soothed into repose. The last remnants of his ghostly fears had been swept away. They were on the windward side of the ship, untenanted save now and then by the shadowy forms of other promenaders. The whole experience, eve

last a litt

ing I must know

y to ask," he

you pain, but I must know-you see, I am really such a ordinary woman-I must kn

d her almo

loomy sort of person I have become; in my younger days I loved companionship. And the women-my landlady's daughter, with dyed hair, a loud voice, slatternly in the morning, a flagrant imitation of her less honest sisters at night! Who else? Where was I to meet women when I didn't even know men? I spent my poor holidays at Detton Magna. Our very loneliness brought Beatrice and me closer together. We used to walk in those ugly fields around Detton Magna and exchanged the story of our woes. She was a teacher at the national school. The children weren't pleasant, their parents were worse. The drudgery was horrible, and there wasn't any escape for her. Sometimes she would sob as we sat side by side. She, too, wanted something out of life, as I did, and there seemed nothing but that black wall always before us. I think that we clung together because we shared a common misery. We talked endlessly of a way

," she interrupte

nt straight to her cottage, as I have often done before. There was a change. Her cheap furniture had gone. It was like one of those little rooms we ha

ole one long turn along the win

in my inexperience, knew the difference. She came in-she, who had spoken of suicide a short time ago-sing

ething in his tone migh

ain firmness, she drew

angry, I suppos

at was passing in her thoughts. I

her died I was left with nothing. My uncle made promises and never kept them. He, too, died. My cousin and I quarrelled. He and his father both held that the money advanced by my grandfather had been a gift and not a loan. They offered me a pittance. Well, I refused anything. I spoke plain words, and that was an end of it. And then I came back and I saw his picture, my cousin's picture, upon the mantelpiece. I can see it now and it looks hateful to me. All the old fires burned up in me. I remembered my father's death-a pauper he was. I remembered how near I had been to sta

again and she leaned towar

've told me this. You see, I am of the world, and I know that we are all only huma

live in his heart, his head uplifted even to the stars towards which their rolling m

ird time. "You may think it a strange question, but you must please answer i

had scoffed at principles, had spoken boldly enough of sin, but I can only say that when she came, when I looked into her eyes, I seemed to have discovered a new horror in life. I c

s-that is what I want to k

his consciousne

rances to theatres and restaurants just for the pleasure of looking at them with other men. It didn't do me any good, you know, but the desire was there. I wanted a companion like those other men had. Beatrice was the only woman I knew. I didn't choose her. It wasn't the selective instinct tha

hesi

s of her sex. I never loved her. If I had, we might in our misery have done the wildest, the most foolish things. I will tell you why I know so clearly that I never loved her.

s gripped

now. Dear friend, will you remember that you are sharing your burden with me, and that I, who am ac

rail. She understood so well his speechlessness. She

y we seem to plough our way through the water. Listen to the throbbing of that engine, always towards a new

ttering into the dim light, like flakes of snow falling with unexpecte

s, if you made yourself very agreeable to the stewa

u realise that there is just one word I still need

from his face. She realised more fully its sensitive lines, its poetic, almost passionate c

ou even to know when … Now your arm, please, until we