Read The Case Of William Smith for Free Online

on a flesh-pink undercoating. William drew a stool up to the other side of the table and started on a duck of his own. After a moment Katharine said,
    ‘It’s rather — extraordinary — you and Mr. Tattlecombe both having accidents — like that.’
    William grinned.
    ‘Mr. Tattlecombe says he was “struck down”. I certainly was.’
    ‘What does he mean, “struck down”?’ said Katharine.
    ‘He thinks someone pushed him. He says he came out of the side door. When he found it was wettish he left it open behind him and went over to the edge of the kerb. He saw a car coming, and then he said he was struck down.’
    Katharine looked up, her brush suspended. She wore a faded green overall which covered her dress. Her skin and her lips were as they had been made. She was pale. Her eyes had their dark look. William knew all their looks by now — the dark, like shadows on a pool; the bright, like peat-water in the sun; the mournful clouding look; and, loveliest and rarest, something which he couldn’t even describe to himself, a kind of trembling tenderness, as if the pool were troubled by an angel. Young men in love have very romantic thoughts.
    Katharine Eversley looked at William Smith and said,
    ‘It was at night?’
    ‘Oh, yes.’
    ‘He came out in the dark and the door was open behind him? Would there have been a light in the passage?’
    ‘Yes, that’s how he knew it was wet — the light shone out on the pavement.’
    She went back to her painting.
    ‘And you came out in the dark last night?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘With the door open from a lighted passage?’
    William looked surprised.
    ‘Yes. Why?’
    ‘I was wondering. It seems odd — ’
    ‘What were you wondering?’
    She didn’t answer that. She said,
    ‘What is Mr. Tattlecombe like?’
    ‘Like?’
    She said, ‘How tall is he?’
    ‘About the same as me — about five-foot-ten.’
    ‘Is he about the same build too?’
    ‘Just about.’
    He was contemplating her steadily now. She went on drawing her brush across the wood in long, even strokes.
    ‘What sort of hair has he got?’
    William said soberly, ‘Very thick and grey. Why?’
    ‘I was wondering about your both being struck — that was his word, wasn’t it?’
    ‘Struck down.’
    ‘Well, I was wondering — whether there was anyone — who had a grudge against him — or anything like that. If you are about the same height and all, and you were coming out of his front door — your hair is very fair — it wouldn’t look so different from grey hair, coming out like that with the light behind you, would it? The person who pushed Mr. Tattlecombe before might have been having another try.’
    William said cheerfully, ‘Or it might be the other way round. The chap who took a swipe at Mr. Tattlecombe might have thought it was me.’
    Katharine’s brush stopped in the middle of a stroke — stopped, and went on again.
    ‘Do you know of anyone who has a grudge against you?’
    ‘No, I don’t. But there might be someone. Only it would have to be someone out of my horrid past. Seven years seems rather a long time to keep up a grudge, doesn’t it?’
    Katharine said nothing. She had finished undercoating her duck. She took another.
    William said, ‘I tell you what I think. It was wet when Mr. Tattlecombe had his accident. I think he slipped on the kerb. When he came round he was all shaken up, and he thought he’d been pushed. That’s what I think.’
    ‘And you?’
    ‘Just a chance see-what-he’s-got affair. Chap on the prowl and no one about, and he thinks he’ll try his luck. I might have had a nice fat wallet.’
    ‘Did he take anything?’
    ‘No — because Abbott came up.’ There was a short pause. Then he said, ‘There was one odd thing — at least I think it’s odd, because I can’t account for it. You know I was knocked right out, and then I came round and Abbott was there, and my hat had come off and he picked it up — ’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘There was a street