Invisible Weapons
A classic crime novel by one of the most highly regarded exponents of the genre.The murder of old Mr Fransham while washing his hands in his niece’s cloakroom was one of the most astounding problems that ever confronted Scotland Yard. Not only was there a policeman in the house at the time, but there was an ugly wound in the victim’s forehead and nothing in the locked room that could have inflicted it.The combined efforts of Superintendent Hanslet and Inspector Waghorn brought no answer and the case was dropped. It was only after another equally baffling murder had been committed that Dr Lancelot Priestley’s orderly and imaginative deductions began to make the connections that would solve this extraordinary case.
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JOHN RHODE
Invisible Weapons
an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by Collins Crime Club 1938
Copyright © Estate of John Rhode 1938
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1938, 2018
John Rhode asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008268817
Ebook Edition © February 2018 ISBN: 9780008268824
Version: 2017-01-02
It was very hot in the charge-room of Adderminster Police Station. Sergeant Cload mopped his head with one hand while he held the telephone receiver with the other.
‘Yes, sir, yes, sir,’ he repeated at intervals. ‘Certainly, sir, I will take the necessary steps at once. I’m very sorry that you have been subjected to this annoyance. Good-morning, sir.’
He put the instrument aside and growled. ‘Alfie Prince again!’ he exclaimed. ‘I don’t know what we’re going to do about that chap, Linton.’
‘What’s he been up to now?’ asked Constable Linton, the only other occupant of the room.
‘Oh, the same old game. Going round to people’s houses asking for fags and cursing if he doesn’t get them. This time it’s Colonel Exbury. It seems that he went round there and that the colonel had the devil of a job to get rid of him. He’s not a bit pleased and wants to know what we mean to do about it.’
‘I can’t make Alfie out,’ said Linton, scratching his head. ‘He’ll do a day’s job with anybody in the town when he feels like it. And then all of a sudden he’ll take it into his head to go round annoying folk. And it isn’t that he gets drunk, for I’ve never heard of anybody who’s seen him the worse for liquor.’
‘He’s not right, that’s what it is,’ replied the sergeant confidently. ‘I don’t mean that he’s out and out mad, but he comes over all batty now and then. I wonder, now!’
Again the sergeant mopped his face with that enormous pocket handkerchief. ‘Damn this heat!’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s enough to drive anyone batty. What I was wondering is whether the folk at the asylum could do Alfie any good if he went in there for a bit.’
Linton shook his head. ‘He’d never go, not unless he was forced to,’ he replied. ‘As it is he’ll never sleep within four walls if he can help it.’
‘I know. That’s just the difficulty. Still, something might be done if we went the right way about it. I tell you what, Dr Thornborough would help us. He’d never mind being asked to do a thing like that.’
‘Like what?’ Linton asked.
‘I’m coming to that. It’s not a bit of good our bringing Alfie before the Bench, for you know as well as I do what would happen. They’d fine him with the option. Alfie’s mother would pay the fine and we shouldn’t be any further forward than we were before. He’d go on pestering folk and giving us a lot of trouble.’
‘We’ll have to do something. It wouldn’t do to upset the colonel.’
‘That’s just it. Now if we could get Alfie put away for a bit it wouldn’t do any harm and might do a lot of good. And that’s just where Dr Thornborough comes in.’
The sergeant glanced at the clock as he continued. ‘It’s just a quarter to one now; the doctor always gets home for lunch round about one o’clock. Jump on your bike and slip up to his place in Gunthorpe Road. I never can pronounce the name of it. Tell him what we think about Alfie and ask him if he can manage to have a quiet chat with him. And then if he thinks that Alfie ought to be put away we’ll know what to do about it.’
This conversation took place on Saturday, June 12. Linton mounted his bicycle and rode through the little town until he reached Gunthorpe Road on its outskirts. He passed the public gardens and museum on his right, and a single small detached house on his left. Thus he reached a new and substantial-looking house which bore upon its drive gates the unusual name Epidaurus.
The gates were open and Linton turned in at the first he came to. He dismounted, left his bicycle at the end of the short semi-circular drive, and walked to the front door. It was opened by a smart and capable-looking parlourmaid who smiled as she recognised him. ‘Good-morning, Mr Linton,’ she said primly.
