夜雨聆风He told me that I surpassed his wildestexpectations.
“You must have the constitution of an elephant,” he said, “to make acomeback like this. Oh well, wonderful what country air and no late hoursor excitements will do for a man if he can only stick it.”
“I grant you your first two,” I said. “But don’t think that the country isfree from excitements. We’ve had a good deal in my part.”
“What sort of excitement?”
“Murder,” I said.
Marcus Kent pursed up his mouth and whistled.
“Some bucolic love tragedy? Farmer lad kills his lass?”
“Not at all. A crafty, determined lunatic killer.”
“I haven’t read anything about it. When did they lay him by the heels?”
“They haven’t, and it’s a she!”
“Whew! I’m not sure that Lymstock’s quite the right place for you, oldboy.”
I said firmly:
“Yes, it is. And you’re not going to get me out of it.”
Marcus Kent has a low mind. He said at once:
“So that’s it! Found a blonde?”
“Not at all,” I said, with a guilty thought of Elsie Holland. “It’s merelythat the psychology of crime interests me a good deal.”
“Oh, all right. It certainly hasn’t done you any harm so far, but just makesure that your lunatic killer doesn’t obliterate you.”
“No fear of that,” I said.
“What about dining with me this evening? You can tell me all aboutyour revolting murder.”
