"DERLETH, August - The Adventure of the Sotheby Salesman (A Solar Pons story)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Derleth August)

The fellow nodded.

"I'm looking into the matter next door and there are a few questions I would like to ask you. I am Solar Pons, and this gentleman is my assistant, Dr. Parker."

"Why, certainly," responded Hendricks, softening at once. "Will you come into the house?"
Without waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel and strode rapidly toward the house, Pons and I trailing him. in a few moments we were comfortably seated in Hendricks' den, a replica of Green's library, differing in that where Green displayed books, Hendricks had filled the room with trophies of the hunt.

"Now, Mr. Pons, I'll answer anything you ask if it bears on this matter," said Hendricks.

"I want to know first whether you heard the shot that killed Woodall?"

"I can't say for certain, of course," answered Hendricks slowly, "but I think I did. At least, I heard a shot between nine and ten o'clock on the night the fellow was killed."

"You didn't investigate?"

"It's common for some of us to rise at night and shoot rabbits grubbing in our gardens. I have the habit; so has my neighbor, Green. I thought Green was protecting his garden when I heard the shot."

Pons reflected for a moment, Hendricks watching him closely. "I should like to know your reaction on discovering Woodall's body."

"Naturally, I was very much surprised," replied Hendricks without a trace of emotion. "I knew Woodall slightly, of course, but not enough to speak to. I notified the police at once."

"What did you think when you saw the body?"

"Well, I didn't think it was a case of murder; I thought the poor fellow had made away with himself--I understand he'd not been in sound condition financially--but the absence of the weapon left no alternative but that murder had been done."
"Precisely," agreed Pons. He allowed his gaze to linger on Hendricks' new hunting boots. "One more thing--I am told you went over to the house to close the kitchen window; you did not close it. Why?"

Hendricks shrugged his shoulders. "Purely an oversight, I suppose. In the excitement of the discovery, I naturally overlooked it; later on, I realized that it was the best thing I could have done, for it left the scene just as I found it."

"The windows were always kept locked, then. Were the doors also kept locked?"

Hendricks leaned eagerly forward. "There you have it, Mr. Pons. Those doors were always locked. Yet, Woodall didn't break in the back door-so it must have been open when he got there. Question is, who opened it?"

"Who has the key?"

"It's kept in a drawer in my room."

"The drawer is kept locked?"

"So that anyone in the house had access to it?"

"Yes, but there are only three of us. My wife, my man, and myself."

"Very good, Mr. Hendricks. I should like to speak to your wife."

"Very well," answered Hendricks and left the room to get her.

Mrs. Hendricks was a slight woman, somewhat younger than her husband, and singularly attractive. My first impression, which I felt Pons shared, was that Mrs. Hendricks had been weeping; for this seemed evident, despite the patent efforts she had made to disguise the fact. She greeted us in a light voice, which impressed me favorably.

Before Pons could begin to question her, there was a sharp rapping at the front door, and Hendricks departed to answer it. As he left the room, I noticed that his wife followed him with her eyes--and I was struck with her gaze, for it was venomous with hatred.