The Cases Of Detective Reggie Fortune. H. C. Bailey
went back to find Lomas and the servant looking at Colonel Osbert. Colonel Osbert lay on the floor. There was froth at his lips and on his wrist a spot of blood. Reggie knelt down beside him. …
“Too late?” Lomas said hoarsely.
Reggie rose. “Well, you can put it that way,” he said. “It’s the end.”
In Lomas’s room Reggie spread himself on a sofa and watched Lomas drink whisky and soda. “A ghastly business,” Lomas said: he was still pale and unsteady. “That creature is a wild beast.”
“He’ll go where he belongs,” said Reggie, who was eating bread and butter. “All according to plan.”
“Plan? My God, the man runs amuck!”
“Oh, no, no, no. He wanted those papers for his employers. He contracted with Osbert to hand them over when Dean was dead. He murdered Dean and Osbert couldn’t deliver the goods. So I told him through the papers that Osbert had them. He thought Osbert was bilking him and went to have it out with him. Osbert didn’t satisfy him, he was sure he had been done and he made Osbert pay for it. All according to plan.”
Lomas set down his glass. “Fortune,” he said nervously, “Fortune—do you mean—when you put that in the paper—you meant the thing to end like this?”
“Well, what are we here for?” said Reggie. “But you know you’re forgetting the real interest of the case.”
“Am I?” said Lomas weakly.
“Yes. What is his poison?”
“Oh, good Gad,” said Lomas.
CASE II
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