E. R. Punshon

“ Clive?” she said again.
“Yes, he's been killed,” Dunn said. “By poachers, apparently.”
“What is that? What is that man saying?” shrilled Mrs. Dawson from behind. “Mr. Clive—John—why, he was here yesterday.”
Dunn turned his back and walked away. He heard Ella call after him, but he would not look back because he feared what he might do if he obeyed her call.
With an odd buzzing in his ears, with the blood throbbing through his brain as though something must soon break there, he walked blindly on, and as he came to the gate of Bittermeads he saw a motor-car coming up the road. ”

“ Clive has been murdered,” Dunn said abruptly. “Poachers, it is said. Did you know?”
“We heard about it as we came through the village,” answered Deede Dawson. “Very sad, very dreadful. It will be a great shock to poor Ella, I fear. Take the car on to the garage, will you?” he added.
He drove on up the drive, and at the front door they alighted and entered the house together. Dunn followed, and getting into the car, drove it to the garage, where he busied himself cleaning it. ”

“ But that the crime had been discovered and instantly set down to poachers was at least certain, and Dunn realized at once that the adoption of this simple and apparently plausible theory would put an end to all really careful investigation of the circumstances and make the discovery of the truth highly improbable. ”