Murder Must Advertise

Ingleby uttered a loud yell, and Bredon, laying down the index-card, gazed at him open-mouthed.

“Damn and blast Nutrax,” said Ingleby. “May all its directors get elephantiasis, locomotor ataxy and ingrowing toe-nails!”

“Oh, quite,” said Tallboy. “You’ll let us have something, won’t you? If I can get it passed before 3 o’clock the printer-Hullo!”

Mr. Tallboy’s eye, roving negligently round, had fallen on Bredon’s index-card. Miss Rossiter’s glance followed his. Neatly printed on the card stood the one word

DEATH.

“Look at that!” said Miss Rossiter.

“Oh!” said Ingleby, looking over her shoulder. “That’s who you are, is it, Bredon? Well, all I can say is, your stuff ought to come home to everybody. Universal appeal, and so forth.”

Mr. Bredon smiled apologetically.

“You startled me so,” he said. “Pooping off that howl in my ear.” He took up the card and finished his inscription:

DEATH BREDON,

12 A, Great Ormond Street,

W.C.I

Chapter II. Embarrassing Indiscretion of Two Typists

For the twentieth time, Mr. Death Bredon was studying the report of the coroner’s inquest on Victor Dean.

There was the evidence of Mr. Prout, the photographer:

“It would be about tea-time. Tea is served at 3.30, more or less. I was coming out of my room on the top floor, carrying my camera and tripod. Mr. Dean passed me. He was coming quickly along the passage in the direction of the iron staircase. He was not ru

Then came Mr. Daniels’ account:

“I was standing at my desk consulting with Mr. Freeman about an advertising lay-out. I heard the crash. I thought one of the boys must have fallen down again. A boy did fall down that staircase on a previous occasion. I do not consider it a dangerous structure. I consider that the boy was going too fast. I do not recollect hearing Mr. Dean go along the passage. I did not see him. My back was to the door. People pass along that passage continuously; I should not be paying attention. I went quickly out when I heard the noise of the fall. I encountered Mr. Prout and tripped over his tripod. I did not exactly fall down, but I stumbled and had to catch hold of him to steady myself. There was nobody in the corridor when I came out except Mr. Prout. I will swear to that. Mr. Ingleby came past us while we were recovering from the collision. He did not come from his own room, but from the south end of the passage. He went down the iron staircase and Mr. Prout and I followed as quickly as we could. I heard somebody shriek downstairs. I think it was just before, or just after I ran into Mr. Prout. I was rather confused at the time and ca

Then came Mr. Atkins, who explained that he was a group-secretary, working in one of the downstairs rooms.

“I was just coming out of my room, the door of which commands a view of the iron staircase. It is not directly opposite the foot of the staircase, but it commands a view of the lower half of the staircase. Any one coming down the staircase would have his back turned to me as he stepped off. I heard a loud crash, and saw the deceased falling all of a heap down the stairs. He did not appear to make any attempt to save himself. He was clutching a large book in his arms. He did not loose his grip of the book as he fell. He seemed to ca

Mrs. Crump confirmed this account to the best of her ability. She said: “I am head charwoman to the firm of Pym’s Publicity, Ltd. It is my duty to take the tea-waggon round the office building at about 3.30 each afternoon. That is, I start my round at about 3.15 and finish at about 3.45. I had nearly finished doing the first floor, and was returning on my way to the lift to take tea up to the top floor. That would make the time about 3.30. I was coming along the corridor and was facing the foot of the iron staircase. I saw Mr. Dean fall. He fell all in a bunch-like. It was dreadful. He did not shout out or make any exclamation in falling. He fell like a dead thing. My heart seemed to stop. I was struck so I couldn’t move for a minute or two. Then Mr. Atkins came ru