The Dalehouse murder

It was Monday, June the fifteenth—the opening day of the Merchester Lawn Tennis Club’s annual open tournament at which I had played regularly for the past few years. My sister Brenda and I were finishing an early breakfast and I was rereading Ethel Hanson’s letter.I should explain that I am chief engineer to a firm in the little Midland town of Millingham, where, since our father’s death, my sister and I have lived happily together. Wisely, we spend our holidays apart, and I, when I can, take mine in small doses. It suits my business arrangements to do so, and I spend such periods of leisure as I can snatch from my work in playing in the lawn tennis tournaments at the neighboring small towns. Given kindly weather, I challenge any one to name a more enjoyable little holiday.