Crooked House

AgathaChristie
CrookedHouse
Contents
Cover
TitlePage
Author’sForeword
ChapterOne
ChapterTwo
ChapterThree
ChapterFour
ChapterFive
ChapterSix
ChapterSeven
ChapterEight
ChapterNine
ChapterTen
ChapterEleven
ChapterTwelve
ChapterThirteen
ChapterFourteen
ChapterFifteen
ChapterSixteen
ChapterSeventeen
ChapterEighteen
ChapterNineteen
ChapterTwenty
ChapterTwenty-one
ChapterTwenty-two
ChapterTwenty-three
ChapterTwenty-four
ChapterTwenty-five
ChapterTwenty-six
AbouttheAuthor
OtherBooksbyAgathaChristie
Copyright
AboutthePublisher
Author’sForeword
Thisbookisoneofmyownspecialfavourites.Isaveditupforyears,thinkingaboutit,workingitout,sayingtomyself:“Oneday,whenI’veplentyoftime,andwanttoreallyenjoymyself—I’llbeginit!”Ishouldsaythatofone’soutput,fivebooksareworktoonethatisrealpleasure.CrookedHousewaspurepleasure.Ioftenwonderwhetherpeoplewhoreadabookcanknowifithasbeenhardworkorapleasuretowrite?Againandagainsomeonesaystome:“Howyoumusthaveenjoyedwritingsoandso!”Thisaboutabookthatobstinatelyrefusedtocomeoutthewayyouwished,whosecharactersaresticky,theplotneedlesslyinvolved,andthedialoguestilted—orsoyouthinkyourself.Butperhapstheauthorisn’tthebestjudgeofhisorherownwork.However,practicallyeverybodyhaslikedCrookedHouse,soIamjustifiedinmyownbeliefthatitisoneofmybest.
Idon’tknowwhatputtheLeonidesfamilyintomyhead—theyjustcame.Then,likeTopsy“theygrowed.”
IfeelthatImyselfwasonlytheirscribe.
One
IfirstcametoknowSophiaLeonidesinEgypttowardstheendofthewar.SheheldafairlyhighadministrativepostinoneoftheForeignOfficedepartmentsoutthere.Iknewherfirstinanofficialcapacity,andIsoonappreciatedtheefficiencythathadbroughthertothepositionsheheld,inspiteofheryouth(shewasatthattimejusttwenty-two).
Besidesbeingextremelyeasytolookat,shehadaclearmindandadrysenseofhumourthatIfoundverydelightful.Webecamefriends.Shewasapersonwhomitwasextraordinarilyeasytotalktoandweenjoyedourdinnersandoccasionaldancesverymuch.
AllthisIknew;itwasnotuntilIwasorderedEastatthecloseoftheEuropeanwarthatIknewsomethingelse—thatIlovedSophiaandthatIwantedtomarryher.
WewerediningatShepheard’swhenImadethisdiscovery.Itdidnotcometomewithanyshockofsurprise,butmoreastherecognitionofafactwithwhichIhadbeenlongfamiliar.Ilookedatherwithneweyes—butIsawwhatIhadalreadyknownforalongtime.IlikedeverythingIsaw.Thedarkcrisphairthatsprangupproudlyfromherforehead,thevividblueeyes,thesmallsquarefightingchin,andthestraightnose.Ilikedthewell-cutlight-greytailor-made,andthecrispwhiteshirt.ShelookedrefreshinglyEnglishandthatappealedtomestronglyafterthreeyearswithoutseeingmynativeland.Nobody,Ithought,couldbemoreEnglish—andevenasIwasthinkingexactlythat,Isuddenlywonderedif,infact,shewas,orindeedcouldbe,asEnglishasshelooked.Doestherealthingeverhavetheperfectionofastageperformance?
Irealizedthatmuchandfreelyaswehadtalkedtogether,discussingideas,ourlikesanddislikes,thefuture,ourimmediatefriendsandacquaintances—Sophiahadnevermentionedherhomeorherfamily.Sheknewallaboutme(shewas,asIhaveindicated,agoodlistener)butaboutherIknewnothing.Shehad,Isupposed,theusualbackground,butshehadnevertalkedaboutit.AnduntilthismomentIhadneverrealizedthefact.
SophiaaskedmewhatIwasthinkingabout.
Irepliedtruthfully:“You.”
“Isee,”shesaid.Andshesoundedasthoughshedidsee.
“Wemaynotmeetagainforacoupleofyears,”Isaid.“Idon’tknowwhenIshallgetbacktoEngland.ButassoonasIdogetback,thefirstthingIshalldowillbetocomeandseeyouandaskyoutomarryme.”
Shetookitwithoutbattinganeyelash.Shesatthere,smoking,notlookingatme.
ForamomentortwoIwasnervousthatshemightnotunderstand.
“Listen,”Isaid.“TheonethingI’mdeterminednottodo,istoaskyoutomarrymenow.Thatwouldn’tworkoutanyway.Firstyoumightturnmedown,andthenI’dgooffmiserableandprobablytieupwithsomeghastlywomanjusttorestoremyvanity.Andifyoudidn’tturnmedownwhatcouldwedoaboutit?Getmarriedandpartatonce?Getengagedandsettledowntoalongwaitingperiod?Icouldn’tstandyourdoingthat.Youmightmeetsomeoneelseandfeelboundtobe‘loyal’tome.We’vebeenlivinginaqueerhecticget-on-with-it-quicklyatmosphere.Marriagesandloveaffairsmakingandbreakingallroundus.I’dliketofeelyou’dgonehome,freeandindependent,tolookroundyouandsizeupthenewpost-warworldanddecidewhatyouwantoutofit.Whatisbetweenyouandme,Sophia,hasgottobepermanent.I’venouseforanyotherkindofmarriage.”
“NomorehaveI,”saidSophia.
“Ontheotherhand,”Isaid,“IthinkI’mentitledtoletyouknowhowI—well—howIfeel.”
“Butwithoutunduelyricalexpression?”murmuredSophia.
“Darling—don’tyouunderstand?I’vetriednottosayIloveyou—”
Shestoppedme.
“Idounderstand,Charles.AndIlikeyourfunnywayofdoingthings.Andyoumaycomeandseemewhenyoucomeback—ifyoustillwantto—”
Itwasmyturntointerrupt.
“There’snodoubtaboutthat.”
“There’salwaysadoubtabouteverything,Charles.Theremayalwaysbesomeincalculablefactorthatupsetstheapplecart.Foronething,youdon’tknowmuchaboutme,doyou?”
“Idon’tevenknowwhereyouliveinEngland.”
“IliveatSwinlyDean.”
Inoddedatthementionofthewell-knownoutersuburbofLondonwhichboaststhreeexcellentgolfcoursesforthecityfinancier.
Sheaddedsoftlyinamusingvoice:“Inalittlecrookedhouse….”
Imusthavelookedslightlystartled,forsheseemedamused,andexplainedbyelaboratingthequotation.“‘Andtheyalllivedtogetherinalittlecrookedhouse.’That’sus.Notreallysuchalittlehouseeither.Butdefinitelycrooked—runningtogablesandhalftimbering!”
“Areyouoneofalargefamily?Brothersandsisters?”
“Onebrother,onesister,amother,afather,anuncle,anauntbymarriage,agrandfather,agreat-aunt,andastep-grandmother.”
“Goodgracious!”Iexclaimed,slightlyoverwhelmed.
Shelaughed.
“Ofcoursewedon’tnormallyalllivetogether.Thewarandblitzeshavebroughtthatabout—butIdon’tknow”—shefrownedreflectively—“perhapsspirituallythefamilyhasalwayslivedtogether—undermygrandfather’seyeandprotection.He’sratheraPerson,mygrandfather.He’sovereighty,aboutfour-footten,andeverybodyelselooksratherdimbesidehim.”
“Hesoundsinteresting,”Isaid.
“Heisinteresting.He’saGreekfromSmyrna.AristideLeonides.”Sheadded,withatwinkle,“He’sextremelyrich.”
“Willanybodyberichafterthisisover?”
“Mygrandfatherwill,”saidSophiawithassurance.“Nosoak-the-richtacticswouldhaveanyeffectonhim.He’djustsoakthesoakers.
“Iwonder,”sheadded,“ifyou’lllikehim?”
“Doyou?”Iasked.
“Betterthananyoneintheworld,”saidSophia.
Two
ItwasovertwoyearsbeforeIreturnedtoEngland.Theywerenoteasyyears.IwrotetoSophiaandheardfromherfairlyfrequently.Herletters,likemine,werenotloveletters.Theywereletterswrittentoeachotherbyclosefriends—theydealtwithideasandthoughtsandwithcommentsonthedailytrendoflife.YetIknowthatasfarasIwasconcerned,andIbelievedasfarasSophiawasconcernedtoo,ourfeelingsforeachothergrewandstrengthened.
IreturnedtoEnglandonasoftgreydayinSeptember.Theleavesonthetreesweregoldenintheeveninglight.Therewereplayfulgustsofwind.FromtheairfieldIsentatelegramtoSophia.
“Justarrivedback.WillyoudinethiseveningMario’snineo’clockCharles.”
AcoupleofhourslaterIwassittingreadingtheTimes;andscanningtheBirths,MarriagesandDeathscolumnmyeyewascaughtbythenameLeonides:
OnSept.19th,atThreeGables,SwinlyDean,AristideLeonides,belovedhusbandofBrendaLeonides,inhiseighty-eighthyear.Deeplyregretted.
Therewasanotherannouncementimmediatelybelow:
Leonides—Suddenly,athisresidence,ThreeGables,SwinlyDean,AristideLeonides.Deeplymournedbyhislovingchildrenandgrandchildren.FlowerstoSt.Eldred’sChurch,SwinlyDean.
Ifoundthetwoannouncementsrathercurious.Thereseemedtohavebeensomefaultystaffworkresultinginoverlapping.ButmymainpreoccupationwasSophia.Ihastilysentherasecondtelegram:
“Justseennewsofyourgrandfather’sdeath.Verysorry.LetmeknowwhenIcanseeyou.Charles.”
AtelegramfromSophiareachedmeatsixo’clockatmyfather’shouse.Itsaid:
“WillbeatMario’snineo’clock.Sophia.”ThethoughtofmeetingSophiaagainmademebothnervousandexcited.Thetimecreptbywithmaddeningslowness.IwasatMario’swaitingtwentyminutestooearly.Sophiaherselfwasonlyfiveminuteslate.
Itisalwaysashocktomeetagainsomeonewhomyouhavenotseenforalongtimebutwhohasbeenverymuchpresentinyourmindduringthatperiod.WhenatlastSophiacamethroughtheswingdoorsourmeetingseemedcompletelyunreal.Shewaswearingblack,andthat,insomecuriousway,startledme.Mostotherwomenwerewearingblack,butIgotitintomyheadthatitwasdefinitelymourning—anditsurprisedmethatSophiashouldbethekindofpersonwhodidwearblack—evenforanearrelative.
Wehadcocktails—thenwentandfoundourtable.Wetalkedratherfastandfeverishly—askingafteroldfriendsoftheCairodays.Itwasartificialconversation,butittidedusoverthefirstawkwardness.Iexpressedcommiserationforhergrandfather’sdeathandSophiasaidquietlythatithadbeen“verysudden.”Thenwestartedoffagainreminiscing.Ibegantofeel,uneasily,thatsomethingwasthematter—something,Imean,otherthanthefirstnaturalawkwardnessofmeetingagain.Therewassomethingwrong,definitelywrong,withSophiaherself.Wasshe,perhaps,goingtotellmethatshehadfoundsomeothermanwhomshecaredformorethanshedidforme?Thatherfeelingformehadbeen“allamistake?”
SomehowIdidn’tthinkitwasthat—Ididn’tknowwhatitwas.Meanwhilewecontinuedourartificialtalk.
Then,quitesuddenly,asthewaiterplacedcoffeeonthetableandretiredbowing,everythingswungintofocus.HerewereSophiaandIsittingtogetherassooftenbeforeatasmalltableinarestaurant.Theyearsofourseparationmightneverhavebeen.
“Sophia,”Isaid.
Andimmediatelyshesaid,“Charles!”
Idrewadeepbreathofrelief.
“Thankgoodnessthat’sover,”Isaid.“What’sbeenthematterwithus?”
“Probablymyfault.Iwasstupid.”
“Butit’sallrightnow?”
“Yes,it’sallrightnow.”
Wesmiledateachother.
“Darling!”Isaid.Andthen:“Howsoonwillyoumarryme?”
Hersmiledied.Thesomething,whateveritwas,wasback.
“Idon’tknow,”shesaid.“I’mnotsure,Charles,thatIcanevermarryyou.”
“But,Sophia!Whynot?IsitbecauseyoufeelI’mastranger?Doyouwanttimetogetusedtomeagain?Istheresomeoneelse?No—”Ibrokeoff.“I’mafool.It’snoneofthosethings.”
“No,itisn’t.”Sheshookherhead.Iwaited.Shesaidinalowvoice:
“It’smygrandfather’sdeath.”
“Yourgrandfather’sdeath?Butwhy?Whatearthlydifferencecanthatmake?Youdon’tmean—surelyyoucan’timagine—isitmoney?Hasn’theleftany?Butsurely,dearest—”
“Itisn’tmoney.”Shegaveafleetingsmile.“Ithinkyou’dbequitewillingto‘takemeinmyshift,’astheoldsayinggoes.Andgrandfatherneverlostanymoneyinhislife.”
“Thenwhatisit?”
“It’sjusthisdeath—yousee,Ithink,Charles,thathedidn’tjust—die.Ithinkhemayhavebeen—killed….”
Istaredather.
“But—whatafantasticidea.Whatmadeyouthinkofit?”
“Ididn’tthinkofit.Thedoctorwasqueertobeginwith.Hewouldn’tsignacertificate.They’regoingtohaveapost-mortem.It’squiteclearthattheysuspectsomethingiswrong.”
Ididn’tdisputethatwithher.Sophiahadplentyofbrains;anyconclusionsshehaddrawncouldbereliedupon.
InsteadIsaidearnestly:
“Theirsuspicionsmaybequiteunjustified.Butputtingthataside,supposingthattheyarejustified,howdoesthataffectyouandme?”
“Itmightundercertaincircumstances.You’reintheDiplomaticService.They’reratherparticularaboutwives.No—pleasedon’tsayallthethingsthatyou’reburstingtosay.You’reboundtosaythem—andIbelieveyoureallythinkthem—andtheoreticallyIquiteagreewiththem.ButI’mproud—I’mdevilishlyproud.Iwantourmarriagetobeagoodthingforeveryone—Idon’twanttorepresentone-halfofasacrificeforlove!And,asIsay,itmaybeallright….”
“Youmeanthedoctor—mayhavemadeamistake?”
“Evenifhehasn’tmadeamistake,itwon’tmatter—solongastherightpersonkilledhim.”
“Whatdoyoumean,Sophia?”
“Itwasabeastlythingtosay.But,afterall,onemightaswellbehonest.”
Sheforestalledmynextwords.
“No,Charles,I’mnotgoingtosayanymore.I’veprobablysaidtoomuchalready.ButIwasdeterminedtocomeandmeetyoutonight—toseeyoumyselfandmakeyouunderstand.Wecan’tsettleanythinguntilthisisclearedup.”
“Atleasttellmeaboutit.”
Sheshookherhead.
“Idon’twantto.”
“But—Sophia—”
“No,Charles.Idon’twantyoutoseeusfrommyangle.Iwantyoutoseeusunbiasedfromtheoutsidepointofview.”
“AndhowamItodothat?”
Shelookedatme,aqueerlightinherbrilliantblueeyes.
“You’llgetthatfromyourfather,”shesaid.
IhadtoldSophiainCairothatmyfatherwasAssistantCommissionerofScotlandYard.Hestillheldthatoffice.Atherwords,Ifeltacoldweightsettlingdownonme.
“It’sasbadasthat,then?”
“Ithinkso.Doyouseeamansittingatatablebythedoorallalone—ratheranicelookingstolidex-Armytype?”
“Yes.”
“HewasonSwinlyDeanplatformthiseveningwhenIgotintothetrain.”
“Youmeanhe’sfollowedyouhere?”
“Yes.Ithinkwe’reall—howdoesoneputit?—underobservation.Theymoreorlesshintedthatwe’dallbetternotleavethehouse.ButIwasdeterminedtoseeyou.”Hersmallsquarechinshotoutpugnaciously.“Igotoutofthebathroomwindowandshinneddownthewater-pipe.”
“Darling!”
“Butthepoliceareveryefficient.AndofcoursetherewasthetelegramIsentyou.Well—nevermind—we’rehere—together…Butfromnowon,we’vebothgottoplayalonehand.”
Shepausedandthenadded:
“Unfortunately—there’snodoubt—aboutourlovingeachother.”
“Nodoubtatall,”Isaid.“Anddon’tsayunfortunately.YouandIhavesurvivedaworldwar,we’vehadplentyofnearescapesfromsuddendeath—andIdon’tseewhythesuddendeathofjustoneoldman—howoldwashe,bytheway?”
“Eighty-seven.”
“Ofcourse.ItwasintheTimes.Ifyouaskme,hejustdiedofoldage,andanyself-respectingGPwouldacceptthefact.”
“Ifyou’dknownmygrandfather,”saidSophia,“you’dhavebeensurprisedathisdyingofanything!”
Three
I’dalwaystakenacertainamountofinterestinmyfather’spolicework,butnothinghadpreparedmeforthemomentwhenIshouldcometotakeadirectandpersonalinterestinit.
IhadnotyetseentheOldMan.HehadbeenoutwhenIarrived,andafterabath,ashave,andchangeIhadgoneouttomeetSophia.WhenIreturnedtothehouse,however,Glovertoldmethathewasinhisstudy.
Hewasathisdesk,frowningoveralotofpapers.HejumpedupwhenIcamein
“Charles!Well,well,it’sbeenalongtime.”
Ourmeeting,afterfiveyearsofwar,wouldhavedisappointedaFrenchman.Actuallyalltheemotionofreunionwasthereallright.TheOldManandIareveryfondofeachother,andweunderstandeachotherprettywell.
“I’vegotsomewhisky,”hesaid.“Saywhen.SorryIwasoutwhenyougothere.I’muptotheearsinwork.Hellofacasejustunfolding.”
Ileanedbackinmychairandlitacigarette.
“AristideLeonides?”Iasked.
Hisbrowscamedownquicklyoverhiseyes.Heshotmeaquickappraisingglance.Hisvoicewaspoliteandsteely.
“Nowwhatmakesyousaythat,Charles?”
“I’mrightthen?”
“Howdidyouknowaboutthis?”
“Informationreceived.”
TheOldManwaited.
“Myinformation,”Isaid,“camefromthestableitself.”
“Comeon,Charles,let’shaveit.”
“Youmayn’tlikeit,”Isaid.“ImetSophiaLeonidesoutinCairo.Ifellinlovewithher.I’mgoingtomarryher.Imethertonight.Shedinedwithme.”
“Dinedwithyou?InLondon?Iwonderjusthowshemanagedtodothat!Thefamilywasasked—oh,quitepolitely,tostayput.”
“Quiteso.Sheshinneddownapipefromthebathroomwindow.”
TheOldMan’slipstwitchedforamomentintoasmile.
“Sheseems,”’hesaid,“tobeayoungladyofsomeresource.”
“Butyourpoliceforceisfullyefficient,”Isaid.“AniceArmytypetrackedhertoMario’s.Ishallfigureinthereportsyouget.Fivefooteleven,brownhair,browneyes,dark-bluepinstripesuit,etc.”
TheOldManlookedatmehard.
“Isthis—serious?”heasked.
“Yes,”Isaid.“It’sserious,Dad.”
Therewasamoment’ssilence.
“Doyoumind?”Iasked.
“Ishouldn’thaveminded—aweekago.They’reawell-establishedfamily—thegirlwillhavemoney—andIknowyou.Youdon’tloseyourheadeasily.Asitis—”
“Yes,Dad?”
“Itmaybeallright,if—”
“Ifwhat?”
“Iftherightpersondidit.”
ItwasthesecondtimethatnightIhadheardthatphrase.Ibegantobeinterested.
“Justwhoistherightperson?”
Hethrewasharpglanceatme.
“Howmuchdoyouknowaboutitall?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”Helookedsurprised.“Didn’tthegirltellyou?”
“No.Shesaidshe’dratherIsawitall—fromanoutsidepointofview.”
“NowIwonderwhythatwas?”
“Isn’titratherobvious?”
“No,Charles.Idon’tthinkitis.”
Hewalkedupanddownfrowning.Hehadlitacigarandthecigarhadgoneout.Thatshowedmejusthowdisturbedtheoldboywas.
“Howmuchdoyouknowaboutthefamily?”heshotatme.
“Damnall!Iknowtherewastheoldmanandalotofsonsandgrandchildrenandin-laws.Ihaven’tgottheramificationsclear.”Ipausedandthensaid,“You’dbetterputmeinthepicture,Dad.”
“Yes.”Hesatdown.“Verywellthen—I’llbeginatthebeginning—withAristideLeonides.HearrivedinEnglandwhenhewastwenty-four.”
“AGreekfromSmyrna.”
“Youdoknowthatmuch?”
“Yes,butit’saboutallIdoknow.”
ThedooropenedandGlovercameintosaythatChief-InspectorTavernerwashere.
“He’sinchargeofthecase,”saidmyfather.“We’dbetterhavehimin.He’sbeencheckinguponthefamily.KnowsmoreaboutthemthanIdo.”
IaskedifthelocalpolicehadcalledintheYard.
“It’sinourjurisdiction.SwinlyDeanisGreaterLondon.”
InoddedasChief-InspectorTavernercameintotheroom.IknewTavernerfrommanyyearsback.Hegreetedmewarmlyandcongratulatedmeonmysafereturn.
“I’mputtingCharlesinthepicture,”saidtheOldMan.“CorrectmeifIgowrong,Taverner.LeonidescametoLondonin1884.HestartedupalittlerestaurantinSoho.Itpaid.Hestartedupanother.Soonheownedsevenoreightofthem.Theyallpaidhandoverfist.”
“Nevermadeanymistakesinanythinghehandled,”saidChief-InspectorTaverner.
“He’dgotanaturalflair,”saidmyfather.“Intheendhewasbehindmostofthewell-knownrestaurantsinLondon.Thenhewentintothecateringbusinessinabigway.”
“Hewasbehindalotofotherbusinessesaswell,”saidTaverner.“Second-handclothestrade,cheapjewellerystores,lotsofthings.Ofcourse,”headdedthoughtfully,“hewasalwaysatwister.”
“Youmeanhewasacrook?”Iasked.
Tavernershookhishead.
“No,Idon’tmeanthat.Crooked,yes—butnotacrook.Neveranythingoutsidethelaw.Buthewasthesortofchapthatthoughtupallthewaysyoucangetroundthelaw.He’scleanedupapacketthatwayeveninthislastwar,andoldashewas.Nothinghedidwaseverillegal—butassoonashe’dgotontoit,youhadtohavealawaboutit,ifyouknowwhatImean.Butbythattimehe’dgoneontothenextthing.”
“Hedoesn’tsoundaveryattractivecharacter,”Isaid.
“Funnilyenough,hewasattractive.He’dgotpersonality,youknow.Youcouldfeelit.Nothingmuchtolookat.Justagnome—uglylittlefellow—butmagnetic—womenalwaysfellforhim.”
“Hemadearatherastonishingmarriage,”saidmyfather.“Marriedthedaughterofacountrysquire—anMFH.”
Iraisedmyeyebrows.“Money?”
TheOldManshookhishead.
“No,itwasalovematch.Shemethimoversomecateringarrangementsforafriend’swedding—andshefellforhim.Herparentscutuprough,butshewasdeterminedtohavehim.Itellyou,themanhadcharm—therewassomethingexoticanddynamicabouthimthatappealedtoher.Shewasboredstiffwithherownkind.”
“Andthemarriagewashappy?”
“Itwasveryhappy,oddlyenough.Ofcoursetheirrespectivefriendsdidn’tmix(thosewerethedaysbeforemoneysweptasideallclassdistinctions)butthatdidn’tseemtoworrythem.Theydidwithoutfriends.HebuiltaratherpreposteroushouseatSwinlyDeanandtheylivedthereandhadeightchildren.”
“Thisisindeedafamilychronicle.”
“OldLeonideswasratherclevertochooseSwinlyDean.Itwasonlybeginningtobefashionablethen.Thesecondandthirdgolfcourseshadn’tbeenmade.TherewasamixtureofOldInhabitantswhowerepassionatelyfondoftheirgardensandwholikedMrs.Leonides,andrichCitymenwhowantedtobeinwithLeonides,sotheycouldtaketheirchoice
“Leavinghimwitheightchildren?”
“Onediedininfancy.Twoofthesonswerekilledinthelastwar.OnedaughtermarriedandwenttoAustraliaanddiedthere.Anunmarrieddaughterwaskilledinamotoraccident.Anotherdiedayearortwoago.Therearetwostillliving—theeldestson,Roger,whoismarriedbuthasnochildren,andPhilip,whomarriedawell-knownactressandhasthreechildren.YourSophia,Eustace,andJosephine.”
“Andtheyarealllivingat—whatisit?—ThreeGables?”
“Yes.TheRogerLeonideswerebombedoutearlyinthewar.Philipandhisfamilyhavelivedtheresince1937.Andthere’sanelderlyaunt,MissdeHaviland,sisterofthefirstMrs.Leonides.Shealwaysloathedherbrother-in-lawapparently,butwhenhersisterdiedsheconsidereditherdutytoacceptherbrother-in-law’sinvitationtolivewithhimandbringupthechildren.”
“She’sveryhotonduty,”saidInspectorTaverner.“Butshe’snotthekindthatchangeshermindaboutpeople.ShealwaysdisapprovedofLeonidesandhismethods—”
“Well,”Isaid,“itseemsaprettygoodhouseful.Whodoyouthinkkilledhim?”
Tavernershookhishead.
“Earlydays,”hesaid,“earlydaystosaythat.”
“Comeon,Taverner,”Isaid.“Ibetyouthinkyouknowwhodidit.We’renotincourt,man.”
“No,”saidTavernergloomily.“Andwemayneverbe.”
“Youmeanhemaynothavebeenmurdered?”
“Oh,hewasmurderedallright.Poisoned.Butyouknowwhatthesepoisoningcasesarelike.It’sverytrickygettingtheevidence.Verytricky.Allthepossibilitiesmaypointoneway—”
“That’swhatI’mtryingtogetat.You’vegotitalltapedoutinyourmind,haven’tyou?”
“It’sacaseofverystrongprobability.It’soneofthoseobviousthings.Theperfectsetup.ButIdon’tknow,I’msure.It’stricky.”
IlookedappealinglyattheOldMan.
Hesaidslowly:“Inmurdercases,asyouknow,Charles,theobviousisusuallytherightsolution.OldLeonidesmarriedagain,tenyearsago.”
“Whenhewasseventy-seven?”
“Yes,hemarriedayoungwomanoftwenty-four.”
Iwhistled.
“Whatsortofayoungwoman?”
“Ayoungwomanoutofateashop.Aperfectlyrespectableyoungwoman—good-lookinginananaemic,apatheticsortofway.”
“Andshe’sthestrongprobability?”
“Iaskyou,sir,”saidTaverner.“She’sonlythirty-fournow—andthat’sadangerousage.Shelikeslivingsoft.Andthere’sayoungmaninthehouse.Tutortothegrandchildren.Notbeeninthewar—gotabadheartorsomething.They’reasthickasthieves.”
Ilookedathimthoughtfully.Itwas,certainly,anoldandfamiliarpattern.Themixtureasbefore.AndthesecondMrs.Leonideswas,myfatherhademphasized,veryrespectable.Inthenameofrespectabilitymanymurdershadbeencommitted.
“Whatwasit?”Iasked.“Arsenic?”
“No.Wehaven’tgottheanalyst’sreportyet—butthedoctorthinksit’seserine.”
“That’salittleunusual,isn’tit?Surelyeasytotracethepurchaser.”
“Notthisthing.Itwashisownstuff,yousee.Eyedrops.”
“Leonidessufferedfromdiabetes,”saidmyfather.“Hehadregularinjectionsofinsulin.Insulinisgivenoutinsmallbottleswitharubbercap.Ahypodermicneedleispresseddownthroughtherubbercapandtheinjectiondrawnup.”
Iguessedthenextbit.
“Anditwasn’tinsulininthebottle,buteserine?”
“Exactly.”
“Andwhogavehimtheinjection?”Iasked.
“Hiswife.”
IunderstoodnowwhatSophiameantbythe“rightperson.”
Iasked:“DoesthefamilygetonwellwiththesecondMrs.Leonides?”
“No.Igathertheyarehardlyonspeakingterms.”
Itallseemedclearerandclearer.Nevertheless,InspectorTavernerwasclearlynothappyaboutit.
“Whatdon’tyoulikeaboutit?”Iaskedhim.
“Ifshedidit,Mr.Charles,itwouldhavebeensoeasyforhertosubstituteabonafidebottleofinsulinafterwards.Infact,ifsheisguilty,Ican’timaginewhyonearthshedidn’tdojustthat.”
“Yes,itdoesseemindicated.Plentyofinsulinabout?”
“Ohyes,fullbottlesandemptyones.Andifshe’ddonethat,tentoonethedoctorwouldn’thavespottedit.Verylittleisknownofthepost-mortemappearancesinhumanpoisoningbyeserine.Butasitwashecheckedupontheinsulin(incaseitwasthewrongstrengthorsomethinglikethat)andso,ofcourse,hesoonspottedthatitwasn’tinsulin.”
“Soitseems,”Isaidthoughtfully,“thatMrs.Leonideswaseitherverystupid—orpossiblyveryclever.”
“Youmean—”
“Thatshemaybegamblingonyourcomingtotheconclusionthatnobodycouldhavebeenasstupidassheappearstohavebeen.Whatarethealternatives?Anyother—suspects?”
TheOldMansaidquietly:
“Practicallyanyoneinthehousecouldhavedoneit.Therewasalwaysagoodstoreofinsulin—atleastafortnight’ssupply.Oneofthephialscouldhavebeentamperedwith,andreplacedintheknowledgethatitwouldbeusedinduecourse.”
“Andanybody,moreorless,hadaccesstothem?”
“Theyweren’tlockedaway.Theywerekeptonaspecialshelfinthemedicinecupboardinthebathroomofhispartofthehouse.Everybodyinthehousecameandwentfreely.”
“Anystrongmotive?”
Myfathersighed.
“MydearCharles.AristideLeonideswasenormouslyrich.Hehasmadeoveragooddealofhismoneytohisfamily,itistrue,butitmaybethatsomebodywantedmore.”
“Buttheonethatwanteditmostwouldbethepresentwidow.Hasheryoungmananymoney?”
“No.Poorasachurchmouse.”
Somethingclickedinmybrain.IrememberedSophia’squotation.Isuddenlyrememberedthewholeverseofthenurseryrhyme:
Therewasacrookedmanandhewentacrookedmile.Hefoundacrookedsixpencebesideacrookedstile.Hehadacrookedcatwhichcaughtacrookedmouse,Andtheyalllivedtogetherinalittlecrookedhouse.
IsaidtoTaverner:
“Howdoesshestrikeyou—Mrs.Leonides?Whatdoyouthinkofher?”
Herepliedslowly:
“It’shardtosay—veryhardtosay.She’snoteasy.Veryquiet—soyoudon’tknowwhatshe’sthinking.Butshelikeslivingsoft—thatI’llswearI’mrightabout.Putsmeinmind,youknow,ofacat,abigpurringlazycat…NotthatI’veanythingagainstcats.Catsareallright….”
Hesighed.
“Whatwewant,”hesaid,“isevidence.”
Yes,Ithought,weallwantedevidencethatMrs.Leonideshadpoisonedherhusband.Sophiawantedit,andIwantedit,andChief-InspectorTavernerwantedit.
Theneverythinginthegardenwouldbelovely!
ButSophiawasn’tsure,andIwasn’tsure,andIdidn’tthinkChief-InspectorTavernerwassureeither.
Four
OnthefollowingdayIwentdowntoThreeGableswithTaverner.
Mypositionwasacuriousone.Itwas,tosaytheleastofit,quiteunorthodox.ButtheOldManhasneverbeenhighlyorthodox.
Ihadacertainstanding.IhadworkedwiththeSpecialBranchattheYardduringtheearlydaysofthewar.
This,ofcourse,wasentirelydifferent—butmyearlierperformanceshadgivenme,sotospeak,acertainofficialstanding.
Myfathersaid:
“Ifwe’reevergoingtosolvethiscase,we’vegottogetsomeinsidedope.We’vegottoknowallaboutthepeopleinthathouse.We’vegottoknowthemfromtheinside—nottheoutside.You’rethemanwhocangetthatforus.”
Ididn’tlikethat.IthrewmycigaretteendintothegrateasIsaid:
“I’mapolicespy?Isthatit?I’mtogettheinsidedopefromSophiawhomIloveandwhobothlovesandtrustsme,orsoIbelieve.”
TheOldManbecamequiteirritable.Hesaidsharply:
“Forheaven’ssakedon’ttakethecommonplaceview.Tobeginwith,youdon’tbelieve,doyou,thatyouryoungwomanmurderedhergrandfather?”
“Ofcoursenot.Theidea’sabsolutelyabsurd.”
“Verywell—wedon’tthinksoeither.She’sbeenawayforsomeyears,shehasalwaysbeenonperfectlyamicabletermswithhim.Shehasaverygenerousincomeandhewouldhavebeen,Ishouldsay,delightedtohearofherengagementtoyouandwouldprobablyhavemadeahandsomemarriagesettlementonher.Wedon’tsuspecther.Whyshouldwe?Butyoucanmakequitesureofonething.Ifthisthingisn’tclearedup,thatgirlwon’tmarryyou.Fromwhatyou’vetoldmeI’mfairlysureofthat.Andmarkthis,it’sthekindofcrimethatmayneverbeclearedup.Wemaybereasonablysurethatthewifeandheryoungmanwereincahootsoverit—butprovingitwillbeanothermatter.There’snotevenacasetoputuptotheDPPsofar.Andunlesswegetdefiniteevidenceagainsther,there’llalwaysbeanastydoubt.Youseethat,don’tyou?”
Yes,Isawthat.
TheOldManthensaidquietly:
“Whynotputittoher?”
“Youmean—askSophiaifI—”Istopped.
TheOldManwasnoddinghisheadvigorously.
“Yes,yes.I’mnotaskingyoutowormyourwayinwithouttellingthegirlwhatyou’reupto.Seewhatshehastosayaboutit.”
AndsoitcameaboutthatthefollowingdayIdrovedownwithChief-InspectorTavernerandDetective-SergeantLambtoSwinlyDean.
Alittlewaybeyondthegolfcourse,weturnedinatagatewaywhereIimaginedthatbeforethewartherehadbeenanimposingpairofgates.Patriotismorruthlessrequisitioninghadswepttheseaway.Wedroveupalongcurvingdriveflankedwithrhododendronsandcameoutonagravelledsweepinfrontofthehouse.
Itwasincredible!IwonderedwhyithadbeencalledThreeGables.ElevenGableswouldhavebeenmoreapposite!Thecuriousthingwasthatithadastrangeairofbeingdistorted—andIthoughtIknewwhy.Itwasthetype,really,ofacottage,itwasacottageswollenoutofallproportion.Itwaslikelookingatacountrycottagethroughagiganticmagnifying-glass.Theslant-wisebeams,thehalf-timbering,thegables—itwasalittlecrookedhousethathadgrownlikeamushroominthenight!
YetIgottheidea.ItwasaGreekrestaurateur’sideaofsomethingEnglish.ItwasmeanttobeanEnglishman’shome—builtthesizeofacastle!IwonderedwhatthefirstMrs.Leonideshadthoughtofit.Shehadnot,Ifancied,beenconsultedorshowntheplans.Itwas,mostprobably,herexotichusband’slittlesurprise.Iwonderedifshehadshudderedorsmiled.
Apparentlyshehadlivedtherequitehappily.
“Bitoverwhelming,isn’tit?”saidInspectorTaverner.“Ofcourse,theoldgentlemanbuiltontoitagooddeal—makingitintothreeseparatehouses,sotospeak,withkitchensandeverything.It’salltip-topinside,fitteduplikealuxuryhotel.”
Sophiacameoutofthefrontdoor.Shewashatlessandworeagreenshirtandatweedskirt.
Shestoppeddeadwhenshesawme.
“You?”sheexclaimed.
Isaid:
“Sophia,I’vegottotalktoyou.Wherecanwego?”
ForamomentIthoughtshewasgoingtodemur,thensheturnedandsaid:“Thisway.”
Wewalkeddownacrossthelawn.TherewasafineviewacrossSwinlyDean’sNo.1course—awaytoaclumpofpinetreesonahill,andbeyondit,tothedimnessofhazycountryside.
Sophialedmetoarock-garden,nowsomewhatneglected,wheretherewasarusticwoodenseatofgreatdiscomfort,andwesatdown.
“Well?”shesaid.
Hervoicewasnotencouraging.
Isaidmypiece—allofit.
Shelistenedveryattentively.Herfacegavelittleindicationofwhatshewasthinking,butwhenIcameatlasttoafullstop,shesighed.Itwasadeepsigh.
“Yourfather,”shesaid,“isaverycleverman.”
“TheOldManhashispoints.Ithinkit’sarottenideamyself—but—”
Sheinterruptedme.
“Ohno,”shesaid.“Itisn’tarottenideaatall.It’stheonlythingthatmightbeanygood.Yourfather,Charles,knowsexactlywhat’sbeengoingoninmymind.Heknowsbetterthanyoudo.”
Withasuddenalmostdespairingvehemence,shedroveoneclenchedhandintothepalmoftheother.
“I’vegottohavethetruth.I’vegottoknow.”
“Becauseofus?But,dearest—”
“Notonlybecauseofus,Charles.I’vegottoknowformyownpeaceofmind.Yousee,Charles,Ididn’ttellyoulastnight—butthetruthis—I’mafraid.”
“Afraid?”
“Yes—afraid—afraid—afraid.Thepolicethink,yourfatherthinks,youthink,everybodythinks—thatitwasBrenda.”
“Theprobabilities—”
“Ohyes,it’squiteprobable.It’spossible.ButwhenIsay,‘Brendaprobablydidit,’I’mquiteconsciousthatit’sonlywishfulthinking.Because,yousee,Idon’treallythinkso.”
“Youdon’tthinkso?”Isaidslowly.
“Idon’tknow.You’veheardaboutitallfromtheoutsideasIwantedyouto.NowI’llshowityoufromtheinside.Isimplydon’tfeelthatBrendaisthatkindofaperson—she’snotthesortofperson,Ifeel,whowouldeverdoanythingthatmightinvolveherinanydanger.She’sfartoocarefulofherself.”
“Howaboutthisyoungman?LaurenceBrown.”
“Laurenceisacompleterabbit.Hewouldn’thavetheguts.”
“Iwonder.”
“Yes,wedon’treallyknow,dowe?Imean,peoplearecapableofsurprisingonefrightfully.Onegetsanideaofthemintoone’shead,andsometimesit’sabsolutelywrong.Notalways—butsometimes.Butallthesame,Brenda”—sheshookherhead—“she’salwaysactedsocompletelyincharacter.She’swhatIcalltheharemtype.Likessittingaboutandeatingsweetsandhavingniceclothesandjewelleryandreadingcheapnovelsandgoingtothecinema.Andit’saqueerthingtosay,whenoneremembersthathewaseighty-seven,butIreallythinkshewasratherthrilledbygrandfather.Hehadapower,youknow.Ishouldimaginehecouldmakeawomanfeel—oh—ratherlikeaqueen—thesultan’sfavourite!Ithink—I’vealwaysthought—thathemadeBrendafeelasthoughshewereanexciting,romanticperson.He’sbeencleverwithwomenallhislife—andthatkindofthingisasortofart—youdon’tlosetheknackofit,howeveroldyouare.”
IlefttheproblemofBrendaforthemomentandharkedbacktoaphraseofSophia’swhichhaddisturbedme.
“Whydidyousay,”Iasked,“thatyouwereafraid?”
Sophiashiveredalittleandpressedherhandstogether.
“Becauseit’strue,”shesaidinalowvoice.“It’sveryimportant,Charles,thatIshouldmakeyouunderstandthis.Yousee,we’reaveryqueerfamily…There’salotofruthlessnessinus—and—differentkindsofruthlessness.That’swhat’ssodisturbing.Thedifferentkinds.”
Shemusthaveseenincomprehensioninmyface.Shewenton,speakingenergetically.
“I’lltryandmakewhatImeanclear.Grandfather,forinstance.OncewhenhewastellingusabouthisboyhoodinSmyrna,hementioned,quitecasually,thathehadstabbedtwomen.Itwassomekindofabrawl—therehadbeensomeunforgivableinsult—Idon’tknow—butitwasjustathingthathadhappenedquitenaturally.He’dreallypracticallyforgottenaboutit.Butitwas,somehow,suchaqueerthingtohearabout,quitecasually,inEngland.”Inodded.
“That’sonekindofruthlessness,”wentonSophia,“andthentherewasmygrandmother.Ionlyjustrememberher,butI’veheardagooddealabouther.Ithinkshemighthavehadtheruthlessnessthatcomesfromhavingnoimaginationwhatever.Allthosefox-huntingforebears—andtheoldGenerals,theshoot-’em-downtype.Fullofrectitudeandarrogance,andnotabitafraidoftakingresponsibilityinmattersoflifeanddeath.”
“Isn’tthatabitfar-fetched?”
“Yes,Idaresay—butI’malwaysratherafraidofthattype.It’sfullofrectitudebutitisruthless.Andthenthere’smyownmother—she’sanactress—she’sadarling,butshe’sgotabsolutelynosenseofproportion.She’soneofthoseunconsciousegoistswhocanonlyseethingsinrelationtohowitaffectsthem.That’sratherfrightening,sometimes,youknow.Andthere’sClemency,UncleRoger’swife.She’sascientist—she’sdoingsomekindofveryimportantresearch—she’sruthlesstoo,inakindofcold-bloodedimpersonalway.UncleRoger’stheexactopposite—he’sthekindestandmostlovablepersonintheworld,buthe’sgotareallyterrifictemper.Thingsmakehisbloodboilandthenhehardlyknowswhathe’sdoing.Andthere’sfather—”
Shemadealongpause.
“Father,”shesaidslowly,“isalmosttoowellcontrolled.Youneverknowwhathe’sthinking.Henevershowsanyemotionatall.It’sprobablyakindofunconsciousself-defenceagainstmother’sabsoluteorgiesofemotion,butsometimes—itworriesmealittle.”
“Mydearchild,”Isaid,“you’reworkingyourselfupunnecessarily.Whatitcomestointheendisthateverybody,perhaps,iscapableofmurder.”
“Isupposethat’strue.Evenme.”
“Notyou!”
“Ohyes,Charles,youcan’tmakemeanexception.IsupposeIcouldmurdersomeone…”Shewassilentamomentortwo,thenadded,“Butifso,itwouldhavetobeforsomethingreallyworthwhile!”
Ilaughedthen.Icouldn’thelpit.AndSophiasmiled.
“PerhapsI’mafool,”shesaid,“butwe’vegottofindoutthetruthaboutgrandfather’sdeath.We’vegotto.IfonlyitwasBrenda….”
IfeltsuddenlyrathersorryforBrendaLeonides.
Five
Alongthepathtowardsuscameatallfigurewalkingbriskly.Ithadonabatteredoldfelthat,ashapelessskirt,andarathercumbersomejersey.
“AuntEdith,”saidSophia.
Thefigurepausedonceortwice,stoopingtotheflowerborders,thenitadvanceduponus.Irosetomyfeet.
“ThisisCharlesHayward,AuntEdith.Myaunt,MissdeHaviland.”
EdithdeHavilandwasawomanofaboutseventy.Shehadamassofuntidygreyhair,aweather-beatenfaceandashrewdandpiercingglance.
“Howd’yedo?”shesaid.“I’veheardaboutyou.BackfromtheEast.How’syourfather?”
Rathersurprised,Isaidhewasverywell.
“Knewhimwhenhewasaboy,”saidMissdeHaviland.“Knewhismotherverywell.Youlookratherlikeher.Haveyoucometohelpus—ortheotherthing?”
“Ihopetohelp,”Isaidratheruncomfortably.
Shenodded.
“Wecoulddowithsomehelp.Placeswarmingwithpolicemen.Popoutatyouallovertheplace.Don’tlikesomeofthetypes.Aboywho’sbeentoadecentschooloughtn’ttogointothepolice.SawMoyraKinoul’sboytheotherdayholdingupthetrafficatMarbleArch.Makesyoufeelyoudon’tknowwhereyouare!”
SheturnedtoSophia.
“Nannie’saskingforyou,Sophia.Fish.”
“Bother,”saidSophia.“I’llgoandtelephoneaboutit.”
Shewalkedbrisklytowardsthehouse.MissdeHavilandturnedandwalkedslowlyinthesamedirecton.Ifellintostepbesideher.
“Don’tknowwhatwe’dalldowithoutnannies,”saidMissdeHaviland.“Nearlyeverybody’sgotanoldnannie.Theycomebackandwashandironandcookanddohousework.Faithful.Chosethisonemyself—yearsago.”
Shestoppedandpulledviciouslyatanentanglingtwiningbitofgreen.
“Hatefulstuff—bindweed!Worstweedthereis!Choking,entangling—andyoucan’tgetatitproperly,runsalongunderground.”
Withherheelshegroundthehandfulofgreenstuffviciouslyunderfoot.
“Thisisabadbusiness,CharlesHayward,”shesaid.Shewaslookingtowardsthehouse.“Whatdothepolicethinkaboutit?SupposeImustn’taskyouthat.SeemsoddtothinkofAristidebeingpoisoned.Forthatmatteritseemsoddtothinkofhimbeingdead.Ineverlikedhim—never!ButIcan’tgetusedtotheideaofhisbeingdead…Makesthehouseseemso—empty.”
Isaidnothing.Forallhercurtwayofspeech,EdithdeHavilandseemedinareminiscentmood.
“Wasthinkingthismorning—I’velivedherealongtime.Overfortyyears.Cameherewhenmysisterdied.Heaskedmeto.Sevenchildren—andtheyoungestonlyayearold…Couldn’tleave’emtobebroughtupbyadago,couldI?Animpossiblemarriage,ofcourse.IalwaysfeltMarciamusthavebeen—well—bewitched.Uglycommonlittleforeigner!Hegavemeafreehand—Iwillsaythat.Nurses,governesses,school.Andproperwholesomenurseryfood—notthosequeerspicedricedishesheusedtoeat.”
“Andyou’vebeenhereeversince?”Imurmured.
“Yes.Queerinaway…Icouldhaveleft,Isuppose,whenthechildrengrewupandmarried…Isuppose,really,I’dgotinterestedinthegarden.AndthentherewasPhilip.Ifamanmarriesanactresshecan’texpecttohaveanyhomelife.Don’tknowwhyactresseshavechildren.Assoonasababy’sborntheyrushoffandplayinRepertoryinEdinburghorsomewhereasremoteaspossible.Philipdidthesensiblething—movedinherewithhisbooks.”
“WhatdoesPhilipLeonidesdo?”
“Writesbooks.Can’tthinkwhy.Nobodywantstoreadthem.Allaboutobscurehistoricaldetails.You’veneverevenheardofthem,haveyou?”
Iadmittedit.
“Toomuchmoney,that’swhathe’shad,”saidMissdeHaviland.“Mostpeoplehavetostopbeingcranksandearnaliving.”
“Don’thisbookspay?”
“Ofcoursenot.He’ssupposedtobeagreatauthorityoncertainperiodsandallthat.Buthedoesn’thavetomakehisbookspay—Aristidesettledsomethinglikeahundredthousandpounds—somethingquitefantastic—onhim!Toavoiddeathduties!Aristidemadethemallfinanciallyindependent.RogerrunsAssociatedCatering—Sophiahasaveryhandsomeallowance.Thechildren’smoneyisintrustforthem.”
“Sonoonegainsparticularlybyhisdeath?”
Shethrewmeastrangeglance.
“Yes,theydo.Theyallgetmoremoney.Buttheycouldprobablyhavehadit,iftheyaskedforit,anyway.”
“Haveyouanyideawhopoisonedhim,MissdeHaviland?”
Sherepliedcharacteristically:
“No,indeedIhaven’t.It’supsetmeverymuch.NotnicetothinkonehasaBorgiasortofpersonlooseaboutthehouse.IsupposethepolicewillfastenonpoorBrenda.”
“Youdon’tthinkthey’llberightindoingso?”
“Isimplycan’ttell.She’salwaysseemedtomeasingularlystupidandcommonplaceyoungwoman—ratherconventional.Notmyideaofapoisoner.Still,afterall,ifayoungwomanoftwenty-fourmarriesamancloseoneighty,it’sfairlyobviousthatshe’smarryinghimforhismoney.Inthenormalcourseofeventsshecouldhaveexpectedtobecomearichwidowfairlysoon.ButAristidewasasingularlytougholdman.Hisdiabeteswasn’tgettinganyworse.Hereallylookedlikelivingtobeahundred.Isupposeshegottiredofwaiting….”
“Inthatcase,”Isaid,andstopped.
“Inthatcase,”saidMissdeHavilandbriskly,“itwillbemoreorlessallright.Annoyingpublicity,ofcourse.Butafterall,sheisn’toneofthefamily.”
“You’venootherideas?”Iasked.
“WhatotherideasshouldIhave?”
Iwondered.IhadasuspicionthattheremightbemoregoingonunderthebatteredfelthatthanIknew.
Behindtheperky,almostdisconnectedutterance,therewas,Ithought,averyshrewdbrainatwork.JustforamomentIevenwonderedwhetherMissdeHavilandhadpoisonedAristideLeonidesherself….
Itdidnotseemanimpossibleidea.Atthebackofmymindwasthewayshehadgroundthebindweedintothesoilwithherheelwithakindofvindictivethoroughness.
IrememberedthewordSophiahadused.Ruthlessness.
IstoleasidewaysglanceatEdithdeHaviland.
Givengoodandsufficientreason…ButwhatexactlywouldseemtoEdithdeHavilandgoodandsufficientreason?
Toanswerthat,Ishouldhavetoknowherbetter.
Six
Thefrontdoorwasopen.Wepassedthroughitintoarathersurprisinglyspacioushall.Itwasfurnishedwithrestraint—well-polisheddarkoakandgleamingbrass.Attheback,wherethestaircasewouldnormallyappear,wasawhitepanelledwallwithadoorinit.
“Mybrother-in-law’spartofthehouse,”saidMissdeHaviland.“ThegroundfloorisPhilipandMagda’s.”
Wewentthroughadoorwayontheleftintoalargedrawingroom.Ithadpale-bluepanelledwalls,furniturecoveredinheavybrocade,andoneveryavailabletableandonthewallswerehungphotographsandpicturesofactors,dancers,andstagescenesanddesigns.ADegasofballetdancershungoverthemantelpiece.Thereweremassesofflowers,enormousbrownchrysanthemumsandgreatvasesofcarnations.
“Isuppose,”saidMissdeHaviland,“thatyouwanttoseePhilip?”
DidIwanttoseePhilip?Ihadnoidea.AllIhadwantedtodowastoseeSophia.ThatIhaddone.ShehadgivenemphaticencouragementtotheOldMan’splan—butshehadnowrecededfromthesceneandwaspresumablysomewheretelephoningaboutfish,havinggivenmenoindicationofhowtoproceed.WasItoapproachPhilipLeonidesasayoungmananxioustomarryhisdaughter,orasacasualfriendwhohaddroppedin(surelynotatsuchamoment!)orasanassociateofthepolice?
MissdeHavilandgavemenotimetoconsiderherquestion.Itwas,indeed,notaquestionatall,butmoreanassertion.MissdeHaviland,Ijudged,wasmoreinclinedtoassertthantoquestion.
“We’llgotothelibrary,”shesaid.
Sheledmeoutofthedrawingroom,alongacorridorandinthroughanotherdoor.
Itwasabigroom,fullofbooks.Thebooksdidnotconfinethemselvestothebookcasesthatreacheduptotheceiling.Theywereonchairsandtablesandevenonthefloor.Andyettherewasnosenseofdisarrayaboutthem.
Theroomwascold.TherewassomesmellabsentinitthatIwasconsciousofhavingexpected.Itsmeltofthemustinessofoldbooksandjustalittlebeeswax.InasecondortwoIrealizedwhatImissed.Itwasthescentoftobacco.PhilipLeonideswasnotasmoker.
Hegotupfrombehindhistableasweentered—atallman,agedsomewherearoundfifty,anextraordinarilyhandsomeman.EveryonehadlaidsomuchemphasisontheuglinessofAristideLeonides,thatforsomereasonIexpectedhissontobeuglytoo.CertainlyIwasnotpreparedforthisperfectionoffeature—thestraightnose,theflawlesslineofjaw,thefairhairtouchedwithgreythatsweptbackfromawell-shapedforehead.
“ThisisCharlesHayward,Philip,”saidEdithdeHaviland.
“Ah,howdoyoudo?”
Icouldnottellifhehadeverheardofme.Thehandhegavemewascold.Hisfacewasquiteincurious.Itmademerathernervous.Hestoodthere,patientanduninterested.
“Wherearethoseawfulpolicemen?”demandedMissdeHaviland.“Havetheybeeninhere?”
“IbelieveChief-Inspector”—(heglanceddownatacardonthedesk)—“er—Taverneriscomingtotalktomepresently.”
“Whereishenow?”
“I’venoidea,AuntEdith.Upstairs,Isuppose.”
“WithBrenda?”
“Ireallydon’tknow.”
LookingatPhilipLeonides,itseemedquiteimpossiblethatamurdercouldhavebeencommittedanywhereinhisvicinity.
“IsMagdaupyet?”
“Idon’tknow.She’snotusuallyupbeforeeleven.”
“Thatsoundslikeher,”saidEdithdeHaviland.
WhatsoundedlikeMrs.PhilipLeonideswasahighvoicetalkingveryrapidlyandapproachingfast.Thedoorbehindmeburstopenandawomancamein.Idon’tknowhowshemanagedtogivetheimpressionofitsbeingthreewomenratherthanonewhoentered.
Shewassmokingacigaretteinalongholderandwaswearingapeachsatinnégligéwhichshewasholdingupwithonehand.AcascadeofTitianhairrippleddownherback.Herfacehadthatalmostshockingairofnuditythatawoman’shasnowadayswhenitisnotmadeupatall.Hereyeswereblueandenormousandshewastalkingveryrapidlyinahusky,ratherattractivevoicewithaveryclearenunciation.
“Darling,Ican’tstandit—Isimplycan’tstandit—justthinkofthenotices—itisn’tinthepapersyet,butofcourseitwillbe—andIsimplycan’tmakeupmymindwhatIoughttowearattheinquest—very,verysubdued—notblackthough,perhapsdarkpurple—andIsimplyhaven’tgotacouponleft—I’velosttheaddressofthatdreadfulmanwhosellsthemtome—youknow,thegaragesomewherenearShaftesburyAvenue—andifIwentupthereinthecarthepolicewouldfollowme,andtheymightaskthemostawkwardquestions,mightn’tthey?Imean,whatcouldonesay?Howcalmyouare,Philip!Howcanyoubesocalm?Don’tyourealizewecanleavethisawfulhousenow?Freedom—freedom!Oh,howunkind—thepooroldSweetie—ofcoursewe’dneverhavelefthimwhilehewasalive.Hereallydiddoteonus,didn’the—inspiteofallthetroublethatwomanupstairstriedtomakebetweenus.I’mquitesurethatifwehadgoneawayandlefthimtoher,he’dhavecutusrightoutofeverything.Horriblecreature!Afterall,pooroldSweetiePiewasjustonninety—allthefamilyfeelingintheworldcouldn’thavestoodupagainstadreadfulwomanwhowasonthespot.Youknow,Philip,IreallybelievethatthiswouldbeawonderfulopportunitytoputontheEdithThompsonplay.Thismurderwouldgiveusalotofadvancepublicity.BildensteinsaidhecouldgettheThespian—thatdrearyplayinverseaboutminersiscomingoffanyminute—it’sawonderfulpart—wonderful.IknowtheysayImustalwaysplaycomedybecauseofmynose—butyouknowthere’squitealotofcomedytobegotoutofEdithThompson—Idon’tthinktheauthorrealizedthat—comedyalwaysheightensthesuspense.IknowjusthowI’dplayit—commonplace,silly,make-believeuptothelastminuteandthen—”
Shecastoutanarm—thecigarettefelloutoftheholderontothepolishedmahoganyofPhilip’sdeskandbegantoburnit.Impassivelyhereachedforitanddroppeditintothewastepaperbasket.
“Andthen,”whisperedMagdaLeonides,hereyessuddenlywidening,herfacestiffening,“justterror….”
Thestarkfearstayedonherfaceforabouttwentyseconds,thenherfacerelaxed,crumpled,abewilderedchildwasabouttoburstintotears.
Suddenlyallemotionwaswipedawayasthoughbyaspongeand,turningtome,sheaskedinabusinessliketone:
“Don’tyouthinkthatwouldbethewaytoplayEdithThompson?”
IsaidIthoughtthatwouldbeexactlythewaytoplayEdithThompson.AtthemomentIcouldonlyrememberveryvaguelywhoEdithThompsonwas,butIwasanxioustostartoffwellwithSophia’smother.
“RatherlikeBrenda,really,wasn’tshe?”saidMagda.“D’youknow,Ineverthoughtofthat.It’sveryinteresting.ShallIpointthatouttotheinspector?”
Themanbehindthedeskfrownedveryslightly.
“There’sreallynoneed,Magda,”hesaid,“foryoutoseehimatall.Icantellhimanythinghewantstoknow.”
“Notseehim?”Hervoicewentup.“ButofcourseImustseehim!Darling,darling,you’resoterriblyunimaginative!Youdon’trealizetheimportanceofdetails.He’llwanttoknowexactlyhowandwheneverythinghappened,allthelittlethingsonenoticedandwonderedaboutatthetime—”
“Mother,”saidSophia,comingthroughtheopendoor,“you’renottotelltheinspectoralotoflies.”
“Sophia—darling….”
“Iknow,precious,thatyou’vegotitallsetandthatyou’rereadytogiveamostbeautifulperformance.Butyou’vegotitwrong.Quitewrong.”
“Nonsense.Youdon’tknow—”
“Idoknow.You’vegottoplayitquitedifferently,darling.Subdued—sayingverylittle—holdingitallback—onyourguard—protectingthefamily.”
MagdaLeonides’faceshowedthena?veperplexityofachild.
“Darling,”shesaid,“doyoureallythink—”
“Yes,Ido.Throwitaway.That’stheidea.”
Sophiaadded,asalittlepleasedsmilebegantoshowonhermother’sface:
“I’vemadeyousomechocolate.It’sinthedrawingroom.”
“Oh—good—I’mstarving—”
Shepausedinthedoorway.
“Youdon’tknow,”shesaid,andthewordsappearedtobeaddressedeithertomeortothebookshelfbehindmyhead,“howlovelyitistohaveadaughter!”
Onthisexitlineshewentout.
“Godknows,”saidMissdeHaviland,“whatshewillsaytothepolice!”
“She’llbeallright,”saidSophia.
“Shemightsayanything.”
“Don’tworry,”saidSophia.“She’llplayitthewaytheproducersays.I’mtheproducer!”
Shewentoutafterhermother,thenwheeledbacktosay:
“Here’sChief-InspectorTavernertoseeyou,Father.Youdon’tmindifCharlesstays,doyou?”
IthoughtthataveryfaintairofbewildermentshowedonPhilipLeonides’face.Itwellmight!Buthisincurioushabitservedmeingoodstead.Hemurmured:
“Ohcertainly—certainly,”inarathervaguevoice.
Chief-InspectorTavernercamein,solid,dependable,andwithanairofbusinesslikepromptitudethatwassomehowsoothing.
“Justalittleunpleasantness,”hismannerseemedtosay,“andthenweshallbeoutofthehouseforgood—andnobodywillbemorepleasedthanIshall.Wedon’twanttohangabout,Icanassureyou….”
Idon’tknowhowhemanaged,withoutanywordsatall,butmerelybydrawingupachairtothedesk,toconveywhathedid,butitworked.Isatdownunobtrusivelyalittlewayoff.
“Yes,Chief-Inspector?”saidPhilip.
MissdeHavilandsaidabruptly:
“Youdon’twantme,Chief-Inspector?”
“Notjustatthemoment,MissdeHaviland.Later,ifImighthaveafewwordswithyou—”
“Ofcourse.Ishallbeupstairs.”
Shewentout,shuttingthedoorbehindher.
“Well,Chief-Inspector?”Philiprepeated.
“Iknowyou’reaverybusygentlemanandIdon’twanttodisturbyouforlong.ButImaymentiontoyouinconfidencethatoursuspicionsareconfirmed.Yourfatherdidnotdieanaturaldeath.Hisdeathwastheresultofanoverdoseofphysostigmine—moreusuallyknownaseserine.”
Philipbowedhishead.Heshowednoparticularemotion.
“Idon’tknowwhetherthatsuggestsanythingtoyou?”Tavernerwenton.
“Whatshoulditsuggest?Myownviewisthatmyfathermusthavetakenthepoisonbyaccident.”
“Youreallythinkso,Mr.Leonides?”
“Yes,itseemstomeperfectlypossible.Hewascloseonninety,remember,andwithveryimperfecteyesight.”
“Soheemptiedthecontentsofhiseyedropbottleintoaninsulinbottle.Doesthatreallyseemtoyouacrediblesuggestion,Mr.Leonides?”
Philipdidnotreply.Hisfacebecameevenmoreimpassive.
Tavernerwenton:
“Wehavefoundtheeyedropbottle,empty—inthedustbin,withnofingerprintsonit.Thatinitselfiscurious.Inthenormalwaythereshouldhavebeenfingerprints.Certainlyyourfather’s,possiblyhiswife’s,orthevalet….”
PhilipLeonideslookedup.
“Whataboutthevalet?”hesaid.“WhataboutJohnson?”
“YouaresuggestingJohnsonasthepossiblecriminal?Hecertainlyhadopportunity.Butwhenwecometomotiveitisdifferent.Itwasyourfather’scustomtopayhimabonuseveryyear—eachyearthebonuswasincreased.Yourfathermadeitcleartohimthatthiswasinlieuofanysumthathemightotherwisehavelefthiminhiswill.Thebonusnow,aftersevenyears”service,hasreachedaveryconsiderablesumeveryyearandisstillrising.ItwasobviouslytoJohnson’sinterestthatyourfathershouldliveaslongaspossible.Moreover,theywereonexcellentterms,andJohnson’srecordofpastserviceisunimpeachable—heisathoroughlyskilledandfaithfulvaletattendant.”Hepaused.“WedonotsuspectJohnson.”
Philiprepliedtonelessly:“Isee.”
“Now,Mr.Leonides,perhapsyouwillgivemeadetailedaccountofyourownmovementsonthedayofyourfather’sdeath?”
“Certainly,Chief-Inspector.Iwashere,inthisroom,allthatday—withtheexceptionofmeals,ofcourse.”
“Didyouseeyourfatheratall?”
“Isaidgoodmorningtohimafterbreakfastaswasmycustom.”
“Wereyoualonewithhimthen?”
“My—er—stepmotherwasintheroom.”
“Didheseemquiteasusual?”
Withaslighthintofirony,Philipreplied:
“Heshowednoforeknowledgethathewastobemurderedthatday.”
“Isyourfather’sportionofthehouseentirelyseparatefromthis?”
“Yes,theonlyaccesstoitisthroughthedoorinthehall.”
“Isthatdoorkeptlocked?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“Ihaveneverknownittobeso.”
“Anyonecouldgofreelybetweenthatpartofthehouseandthis?”
“Certainly.Itwasonlyseparatefromthepointofviewofdomesticconvenience.”
“Howdidyoufirsthearofyourfather’sdeath?”
“MybrotherRoger,whooccupiesthewestwingofthefloorabove,camerushingdowntotellmethatmyfatherhadhadasuddenseizure.Hehaddifficultyinbreathingandseemedveryill.”
“Whatdidyoudo?”
“Itelephonedthroughtothedoctor,whichnobodyseemedtohavethoughtofdoing.Thedoctorwasout—butIleftamessageforhimtocomeassoonaspossible.Ithenwentupstairs.”
“Andthen?”
“Myfatherwasclearlyveryill.Hediedbeforethedoctorcame.”
TherewasnoemotioninPhilip’svoice.Itwasasimplestatementoffact.
“Wherewastherestofyourfamily?”
“MywifewasinLondon.Shereturnedshortlyafterwards.Sophiawasalsoabsent,Ibelieve.Thetwoyoungerones,EustaceandJosephine,wereathome.”
“Ihopeyouwon’tmisunderstandme,Mr.Leonides,ifIaskyouexactlyhowyourfather’sdeathwillaffectyourfinancialposition.”
“Iquiteappreciatethatyouwanttoknowallthefacts.Myfathermadeusfinanciallyindependentagreatmanyyearsago.MybrotherhemadeChairmanandprincipalshareholderofAssociatedCatering—hislargestcompany,andputthemanagementofitentirelyinhishands.Hemadeovertomewhatheconsideredanequivalentsum—actuallyIthinkitwasahundredandfiftythousandpoundsinvariousbondsandsecurities—sothatIcouldusethecapitalasIchose.Healsosettledverygenerousamountsonmytwosisters,whohavesincedied.”
“Buthelefthimselfstillaveryrichman?”
“No,actuallyheonlyretainedforhimselfacomparativelymodestincome.Hesaiditwouldgivehimaninterestinlife.Sincethattime”—forthefirsttimeafaintsmilecreasedPhilip’slips—“hehasbecome,astheresultofvariousundertakings,anevenrichermanthanhewasbefore.”
“Yourbrotherandyourselfcameheretolive.Thatwasnottheresultofanyfinancial—difficulties?”
“Certainlynot.Itwasamerematterofconvenience.Myfatheralwaystoldusthatwewerewelcometomakeahomewithhim.Forvariousdomesticreasonsthiswasaconvenientthingformetodo.
“Iwasalso,”addedPhilipdeliberately,“extremelyfondofmyfather.Icameherewithmyfamilyin1937.Ipaynorent,butIpaymyproportionoftherates.”
“Andyourbrother?”
“Mybrothercamehereasaresultoftheblitz,whenhishouseinLondonwasbombedin1943.”
“Now,Mr.Leonides,haveyouanyideawhatyourfather’stestamentarydispositionsare?”
“Averyclearidea.Here-madehiswillin1946.Myfatherwasnotasecretiveman.Hehadagreatsenseoffamily.Heheldafamilyconclaveatwhichhissolicitorwasalsopresentandwho,athisrequest,madecleartousthetermsofthewill.ThesetermsIexpectyoualreadyknow.Mr.Gaitskillwilldoubtlesshaveinformedyou.Roughly,asumofahundredthousandpoundsfreeofdutywaslefttomystepmotherinadditiontoheralreadyverygenerousmarriagesettlement.Theresidueofhispropertywasdividedintothreeportions,onetomyself,onetomybrother,andathirdintrustforthethreegrandchildren.Theestateisalargeone,butthedeathduties,ofcourse,willbeveryheavy.”
“Anybequeststoservantsortocharity?”
“Nobequestsofanykind.Thewagespaidtoservantswereincreasedannuallyiftheyremainedinhisservice.”
“Youarenot—youwillexcusemyasking—inactualneedofmoney,Mr.Leonides?”
“Incometax,asyouknow,issomewhatheavy,Chief-Inspector—butmyincomeamplysufficesformyneeds—andformywife’s.Moreover,myfatherfrequentlymadeusallverygenerousgifts,andhadanyemergencyarisen,hewouldhavecometotherescueimmediately.”
Philipaddedcoldlyandclearly:
“IcanassureyouthatIhadnofinancialreasonfordesiringmyfather’sdeath,Chief-Inspector.”
“Iamverysorry,Mr.Leonides,ifyouthinkIsuggestedanythingofthekind.Butwehavetogetatallthefacts.NowI’mafraidImustaskyousomeratherdelicatequestions.Theyrefertotherelationsbetweenyourfatherandhiswife.Weretheyonhappytermstogether?”
“AsfarasIknow,perfectly.”
“Noquarrels?”
“Idonotthinkso.”
“Therewasa—greatdisparityinage?”
“Therewas.”
“Didyou—excuseme—approveofyourfather’ssecondmarriage.”
“Myapprovalwasnotasked.”
“Thatisnotananswer,Mr.Leonides.”
“Sinceyoupressthepoint,IwillsaythatIconsideredthemarriageunwise.”
“Didyouremonstratewithyourfatheraboutit.”
“WhenIheardofit,itwasanaccomplishedfact.”
“Ratherashocktoyou—eh?”
Philipdidnotreply.
“Wasthereanybadfeelingaboutthematter?”
“Myfatherwasatperfectlibertytodoashepleased.”
“YourrelationswithMrs.Leonideshavebeenamicable?”
“Perfectly.”
“Youareonfriendlytermswithher?”
“Weveryseldommeet.”
Chief-InspectorTavernershiftedhisground.
“CanyoutellmesomethingaboutMr.LaurenceBrown?”
“I’mafraidIcan’t.Hewasengagedbymyfather.”
“Buthewasengagedtoteachyourchildren,Mr.Leonides.”
“True.Mysonwasasuffererfrominfantileparalysis—fortunatelyalightcase—anditwasconsiderednotadvisabletosendhimtoapublicschool.MyfathersuggestedthatheandmyyoungdaughterJosephineshouldhaveaprivatetutor—thechoiceatthetimewasratherlimited—sincethetutorinquestionmustbeineligibleformilitaryservice.Thisyoungman’scredentialsweresatisfactory,myfatherandmyaunt(whohasalwayslookedafterthechildren’swelfare)weresatisfied,andIacquiesced.ImayaddthatIhavenofaulttofindwithhisteaching,whichhasbeenconscientiousandadequate.”
“Hislivingquartersareinyourfather’spartofthehouse,nothere?”
“Therewasmoreroomupthere.”
“Haveyouevernoticed—Iamsorrytoaskthis—anysignsofintimacybetweenLaurenceBrownandyourstepmother?”
“Ihavehadnoopportunityofobservinganythingofthekind.”
“Haveyouheardanygossiportittle-tattleonthesubject?”
“Idon’tlistentogossiportittle-tattle,Chief-Inspector.”
“Verycreditable,”saidInspectorTaverner.“Soyou’veseennoevil,heardnoevil,andaren’tspeakinganyevil?”
“Ifyouliketoputitthatway,Chief-Inspector.”
InspectorTavernergotup.
“Well,”hesaid,“thankyouverymuch,Mr.Leonides.”
Ifollowedhimunobtrusivelyoutoftheroom.
“Whew,”saidTaverner,“he’sacoldfish!”
Seven
“Andnow,”saidTaverner,“we’llgoandhaveawordwithMrs.Philip.MagdaWest,herstagenameis.”
“Issheanygood?”Iasked.“Iknowhername,andIbelieveI’veseenherinvariousshows,butIcan’trememberwhenandwhere.”
“She’soneofthoseNearSuccesses,”saidTaverner.“She’sstarredonceortwiceintheWestEnd,she’smadequiteanameforherselfinRepertory—sheplaysalotforthelittlehighbrowtheatresandtheSundayclubs.Thetruthis,Ithink,she’sbeenhandicappedbynothavingtoearnherlivingatit.She’sbeenabletopickandchoose,andtogowhereshelikesandoccasionallytoputupthemoneyandfinanceashowwhereshe’sfanciedacertainpart—usuallythelastpartintheworldtosuither.Resultis,she’srecededabitintotheamateurclassratherthantheprofessional.She’sgood,mindyou,especiallyincomedy—butmanagersdon’tlikehermuch—theysayshe’stooindependent,andshe’satroublemaker—fomentsrowsandenjoysabitofmischief-making.Idon’tknowhowmuchofitistrue—butshe’snottoopopularamongstherfellowartists.”
Sophiacameoutofthedrawingroomandsaid:“Mymotherisinhere,Chief-Inspector.”
IfollowedTavernerintothebigdrawingroom.ForamomentIhardlyrecognizedthewomanwhosatonthebrocadedsettee.
TheTitianhairwaspiledhighonherheadinanEdwardiancoiffure,andshewasdressedinawell-cutdark-greycoatandskirtwithadelicatelypleatedpalemauveshirtfastenedattheneckbyasmallcameobrooch.ForthefirsttimeIwasawareofthecharmofherdelightfullytip-tiltednose.IwasfaintlyremindedofAtheneSeyler—anditseemedquiteimpossibletobelievethatthiswasthetempestuouscreatureinthepeachnégligé.
“InspectorTaverner?”shesaid.“Docomeinandsitdown.Willyousmoke?Thisisamostterriblebusiness.IsimplyfeelatthemomentthatIjustcan’ttakeitin.”
Hervoicewaslowandemotionless,thevoiceofapersondeterminedatallcoststodisplayself-control.Shewenton:
“PleasetellmeifIcanhelpyouinanyway.”
“Thankyou,Mrs.Leonides.Wherewereyouatthetimeofthetragedy?”
“IsupposeImusthavebeendrivingdownfromLondon.I’dlunchedthatdayattheIvywithafriend.Thenwe’dgonetoadressshow.WehadadrinkwithsomeotherfriendsattheBerkeley.ThenIstartedhome.WhenIgothereeverythingwasincommotion.Itseemedmyfather-in-lawhadhadasuddenseizure.Hewas—dead.”Hervoicetrembledjustalittle.
“Youwerefondofyourfather-in-law?”
“Iwasdevoted—”
Hervoicerose.Sophiaadjusted,veryslightly,theangleoftheDegaspicture.Magda’svoicedroppedtoitsformersubduedtone.
“Iwasveryfondofhim,”shesaidinaquietvoice.“Weallwere.Hewas—verygoodtous.”
“DidyougetonwellwithMrs.Leonides?”
“Wedidn’tseeverymuchofBrenda.”
“Whywasthat?”
“Well,wehadn’tmuchincommon.PoordearBrenda.Lifemusthavebeenhardforhersometimes.”
AgainSophiafiddledwiththeDegas.
“Indeed?Inwhatway?”
“Oh,Idon’tknow.”Magdashookherhead,withasadlittlesmile.
“WasMrs.Leonideshappywithherhusband?”
“Oh,Ithinkso.”
“Noquarrels?”
Againtheslightsmilingshakeofthehead.
“Ireallydon’tknow,Inspector.Theirpartofthehouseisquiteseparate.”
“SheandMr.LaurenceBrownwereveryfriendly,weretheynot?”
MagdaLeonidesstiffened.HereyesopenedreproachfullyatTaverner.
“Idon’tthink,”shesaidwithdignity,“thatyououghttoaskmethingslikethat.Brendawasquitefriendlytoeveryone.Sheisreallyaveryamiablesortofperson.”
“DoyoulikeMr.LaurenceBrown?”
“He’sveryquiet.Quitenice,butyouhardlyknowhe’sthere.Ihaven’treallyseenverymuchofhim.”
“Ishisteachingsatisfactory?”
“Isupposeso.Ireallywouldn’tknow.Philipseemsquitesatisfied.”
Taverneressayedsomeshocktactics.
“I’msorrytoaskyouthis,butinyouropinionwasthereanythinginthenatureofaloveaffairbetweenMr.BrownandMrs.BrendaLeonides?”
Magdagotup.Shewasverymuchthegrandedame.
“Ihaveneverseenanyevidenceofanythingofthatkind,”shesaid.“Idon’tthinkreally,Inspector,thatthatisaquestionyououghttoaskme.Shewasmyfather-in-law’swife.”
Ialmostapplauded.
TheChief-Inspectoralsorose.
“Moreaquestionfortheservants?”hesuggested.
Magdadidnotanswer.
“Thankyou,Mrs.Leonides,”saidtheInspectorandwentout.
“Youdidthatbeautifully,darling,”saidSophiatohermotherwarmly.
Magdatwistedupacurlreflectivelybehindherrightearandlookedatherselfintheglass.
“Ye-es,”shesaid,“Ithinkitwastherightwaytoplayit.”
Sophialookedatme.
“Oughtn’tyou,”sheasked,“togowiththeInspector?”
“Lookhere,Sophia,whatamIsupposed—”
Istopped.IcouldnotverywellaskoutrightinfrontofSophia’smotherexactlywhatmyrolewassupposedtobe.MagdaLeonideshadsofarevincednointerestinmypresenceatall,exceptasausefulrecipientofanexitlineondaughters.Imightbeareporter,herdaughter’sfiancé,oranobscurehanger-onofthepoliceforce,orevenanundertaker—toMagdaLeonidestheywouldoneandallcomeunderthegeneralheadingofaudience.
Lookingdownatherfeet,Mrs.Leonidessaidwithdissatisfaction:
“Theseshoesarewrong.Frivolous.”
ObeyingSophia’simperiouswaveofthehead,IhurriedafterTaverner.Icaughthimupintheouterhalljustgoingthroughthedoortothestairway.
“Justgoinguptoseetheelderbrother,”heexplained.
Iputmyproblemtohimwithoutmoreado.
“Lookhere,Taverner,whoamIsupposedtobe?”
Helookedsurprised.
“Whoareyousupposedtobe?”
“Yes,whatamIdoinghereinthishouse?Ifanyoneasksme,whatdoIsay?”
“OhIsee.”Heconsideredforamoment.Thenhesmiled.“Hasanybodyaskedyou?”
“Well—no.”
“Thenwhynotleaveitatthat.Neverexplain.That’saverygoodmotto.Especiallyinahouseupsetlikethishouseis.Everyoneisfartoofulloftheirownprivateworriesandfearstobeinaquestioningmood.They’lltakeyouforgrantedsolongasyoujustseemsureofyourself.It’sagreatmistakeevertosayanythingwhenyouneedn’t.H’m,nowwegothroughthisdoorandupthestairs.Nothinglocked.Ofcourseyourealize,Iexpect,thatthesequestionsI’maskingareallalotofhooey!Doesn’tmatterahootwhowasinthehouseandwhowasn’t,orwheretheyallwereonthatparticularday—”
“Thenwhy—”
Hewenton:“Becauseitatleastgivesmeachancetolookatthemall,andsizethemup,andhearwhatthey’vegottosay,andtohopethat,quitebychance,somebodymightgivemeausefulpointer.”Hewassilentamomentandthenmurmured:“IbetMrs.MagdaLeonidescouldspillamouthfulifshechose.”
“Woulditbereliable?”Iasked.
“Ohno,”saidTaverner,“itwouldn’tbereliable.Butitmightstartapossiblelineofinquiry.Everybodyinthedamnedhousehadmeansandopportunity.WhatIwantisamotive.”
Atthetopofthestairs,adoorbarredofftheright-handcorridor.TherewasabrassknockeronitandInspectorTavernerdulyknocked.
Itwasopenedwithstartlingsuddennessbyamanwhomusthavebeenstandingjustinside.Hewasaclumsygiantofaman,withpowerfulshoulders,darkrumpledhair,andanexceedinglyuglybutatthesametimeratherpleasantface.Hiseyeslookedatusandthenquicklyawayinthatfurtive,embarrassedmannerwhichshybuthonestpeopleoftenadopt.
“Oh,Isay,”hesaid.“Comein.Yes,do.Iwasgoing—butitdoesn’tmatter.Comeintothesittingroom.I’llgetClemency—oh,you’rethere,darling.It’sChief-InspectorTaverner.He—arethereanycigarettes?Justwaitaminute.Ifyoudon’tmind.”Hecollidedwithascreen,said“Ibegyourpardon”toitinaflusteredmanner,andwentoutoftheroom.
Itwasratherliketheexitofabumblebeeandleftanoticeablesilencebehindit.
Mrs.RogerLeonideswasstandingupbythewindow.Iwasintriguedatoncebyherpersonalityandbytheatmosphereoftheroominwhichwestood.
Thewallswerepaintedwhite—reallywhite,notanivoryorapalecreamwhichiswhatoneusuallymeanswhenonesays“white”inhousedecoration.Theyhadnopicturesonthemexceptoneoverthemantelpiece,ageometricalfantasiaintrianglesofdarkgreyandbattleshipblue.Therewashardlyanyfurniture—onlymereutilitariannecessities,threeorfourchairs,aglass-toppedtable,onesmallbookshelf.Therewerenoornaments.Therewaslightandspaceandair.Itwasasdifferentfromthebigbrocadedandflowereddrawingroomonthefloorbelowaschalkfromcheese.AndMrs.RogerLeonideswasasdifferentfromMrs.PhilipLeonidesasonewomancouldbefromanother.WhilstonefeltthatMagdaLeonidescouldbe,andoftenwas,atleasthalfadozendifferentwomen,ClemencyLeonides,Iwassure,couldneverbeanyonebutherself.Shewasawomanofverysharpanddefinitepersonality.
Shewasaboutfifty,Isuppose;herhairwasgrey,cutveryshortinwhatwasalmostanEtoncropbutwhichgrewsobeautifullyonhersmallwell-shapedheadthatithadnoneoftheuglinessIhavealwaysassociatedwiththatparticularcut.Shehadanintelligent,sensitiveface,withlight-greyeyesofapeculiarandsearchingintensity.Shehadonasimpledark-redwoollenfrockthatfittedherslendernessperfectly.
Shewas,Ifeltatonce,ratheranalarmingwoman…Ithink,becauseIjudgedthatthestandardsbywhichshelivedmightnotbethoseofanordinarywoman.IunderstoodatoncewhySophiahadusedthewordruthlessnessinconnectionwithher.TheroomwascoldandIshiveredalittle.
ClemencyLeonidessaidinaquiet,well-bredvoice:
“Dositdown,Chief-Inspector.Isthereanyfurthernews?”
“Deathwasduetoeserine,Mrs.Leonides.”
Shesaidthoughtfully:
“Sothatmakesitmurder.Itcouldn’thavebeenanaccidentofanykind,couldit?”
“No,Mrs.Leonides.”
“Pleasebeverygentlewithmyhusband,Chief-Inspector.Thiswillaffecthimverymuch.Heworshippedhisfatherandhefeelsthingsveryacutely.Heisanemotionalperson.”
“Youwereongoodtermswithyourfather-in-law,Mrs.Leonides?”
“Yes,onquitegoodterms.”Sheaddedquietly:“Ididnotlikehimverymuch.”
“Whywasthat?”
“Idislikedhisobjectivesinlife—andhismethodsofattainingthem.”
“AndMrs.BrendaLeonides?”
“Brenda?Ineversawverymuchofher.”
“DoyouthinkitpossiblethattherewasanythingbetweenherandMr.LaurenceBrown?”
“Youmean—somekindofaloveaffair?Ishouldn’tthinkso.ButIreallywouldn’tknowanythingaboutit.”
Hervoicesoundedcompletelyuninterested.
RogerLeonidescamebackwitharush,andthesamebumblebeeeffect.
“Igotheldup,”hesaid.“Telephone.Well,Inspector?Well?Haveyougotnews?Whatcausedmyfather’sdeath?”
“Deathwasduetoeserinepoisoning.”
“Itwas?MyGod!Thenitwasthatwoman!Shecouldn’twait!Hetookhermoreorlessoutofthegutterandthisishisreward.Shemurderedhimincoldblood!God,itmakesmybloodboiltothinkofit.”
“Haveyouanyparticularreasonforthinkingthat?”Tavernerasked.
Rogerwaspacingupanddown,tuggingathishairwithbothhands.
“Reason?Why,whoelsecoulditbe?I’venevertrustedher—neverlikedher!We’venoneofuslikedher.PhilipandIwerebothappalledwhenDadcamehomeonedayandtolduswhathehaddone!Athisage!Itwasmadness—madness.Myfatherwasanamazingman,Inspector.Inintellecthewasasyoungandfreshasamanofforty.EverythingIhaveintheworldIowetohim.Hedideverythingforme—neverfailedme.ItwasIwhofailedhim—whenIthinkofit—”
Hedroppedheavilyontoachair.Hiswifecamequietlytohisside.
“Now,Roger,that’senough.Don’tworkyourselfup.”
“Iknow,dearest—Iknow,”hetookherhand.“ButhowcanIkeepcalm—howcanIhelpfeeling—”
“Butwemustallkeepcalm,Roger.Chief-InspectorTavernerwantsourhelp.”
“Thatisright,Mrs.Leonides.”
Rogercried:
“DoyouknowwhatI’dliketodo?I’dliketostranglethatwomanwithmyownhands.Grudgingthatdearoldmanafewextrayearsoflife.IfIhadherhere—”Hesprangup.Hewasshakingwithrage.Heheldoutconvulsivehands.“Yes,I’dwringherneck,wringherneck….”
“Roger!”saidClemencysharply.
Helookedather,abashed.
“Sorry,dearest.”Heturnedtous.“Idoapologize.Myfeelingsgetthebetterofme.I—excuseme—”
Hewentoutoftheroomagain.ClemencyLeonidessaidwithaveryfaintsmile:
“Really,youknow,hewouldn’thurtafly.”
Taverneracceptedherremarkpolitely.
Thenhestartedonhisso-calledroutinequestions.
ClemencyLeonidesrepliedconciselyandaccurately.
RogerLeonideshadbeeninLondononthedayofhisfather’sdeathatBoxHouse,theheadquartersoftheAssociatedCatering.Hehadreturnedearlyintheafternoonandhadspentsometimewithhisfatheraswashiscustom.Sheherselfhadbeen,asusual,attheLambertInstituteinGowerStreetwheresheworked.Shehadreturnedtothehousejustbeforesixo’clock.
“Didyouseeyourfather-in-law?”
“No.ThelasttimeIsawhimwasonthedaybefore.Wehadcoffeewithhimafterdinner.”
“Butyoudidnotseehimonthedayofhisdeath?”
“No.IactuallywentovertohispartofthehousebecauseRogerthoughthehadlefthispipethere—averypreciouspipe,butasithappenedhehadleftitonthehalltablethere,soIdidnotneedtodisturbtheoldman.Heoftendozedoffaboutsix.”
“Whendidyouhearofhisillness?”
“Brendacamerushingover.Thatwasjustaminuteortwoafterhalfpastsix.”
Thesequestions,asIknew,wereunimportant,butIwasawarehowkeenwasInspectorTaverner’sscrutinyofthewomanwhoansweredthem.HeaskedherafewquestionsaboutthenatureofherworkinLondon.Shesaidthatithadtodowiththeradiationeffectsofatomicdisintegration.
“Youworkontheatombomb,infact?”
“Theworkhasnothingdestructiveaboutit.TheInstituteiscarryingoutexperimentsonthetherapeuticeffects.”
WhenTavernergotup,heexpressedawishtolookroundtheirpartofthehouse.Sheseemedalittlesurprised,butshowedhimitsextentreadilyenough.Thebedroomwithitstwinbedsandwhitecoverletsanditssimplifiedtoiletappliancesremindedmeagainofahospitalorsomemonasticcell.Thebathroom,too,wasseverelyplainwithnospecialluxuryfittingandnoarrayofcosmetics.Thekitchenwasbare,spotlesslyclean,andwellequippedwithlabour-savingdevicesofapracticalkind.ThenwecametoadoorwhichClemencyopened,saying:“Thisismyhusband’sspecialroom.”
“Comein,”saidRoger.“Comein.”
Idrewafaintbreathofrelief.Somethinginthespotlessausterityelsewherehadbeengettingmedown.Thiswasanintenselypersonalroom.Therewasalargeroll-topdeskuntidilycoveredwithpapers,oldpipes,andtobaccoash.Therewerebigshabbyeasychairs.Persianrugscoveredthefloor.Onthewallsweregroups,theirphotographysomewhatfaded.Schoolgroups,cricketgroups,militarygroups.Water-coloursketchesofdesertsandminarets,andofsailing-boatsandseaeffectsandsunsets.Itwas,somehow,apleasantroom,theroomofalovable,friendly,companionableman.
Roger,clumsily,waspouringoutdrinksfromatantalus,sweepingbooksandpapersoffoneofthechairs.
“Placeisinamess.Iwasturningout.Clearingupoldpapers.Saywhen.”Theinspectordeclinedadrink.Iaccepted.“Youmustforgivemejustnow,”wentonRoger.Hebroughtmydrinkovertome,turninghisheadtospeaktoTavernerashedidso.“Myfeelingsranawaywithme.”
Helookedroundalmostguiltily,butClemencyLeonideshadnotaccompaniedusintotheroom.
“She’ssowonderful,”hesaid.“Mywife,Imean.Allthroughthis,she’sbeensplendid—splendid!Ican’ttellyouhowIadmirethatwoman.Andshe’shadsuchahardtime—aterribletime.I’dliketotellyouaboutit.Beforeweweremarried,Imean.Herfirsthusbandwasafinechap—finemind,Imean—butterriblydelicate—tubercularasamatteroffact.Hewasdoingveryvaluableresearchworkoncrystallography,Ibelieve.Poorlypaidandveryexacting,buthewouldn’tgiveup.Sheslavedforhim,practicallykepthim,knowingallthetimethathewasdying.Andneveracomplaint—neveramurmurofweariness.Shealwayssaidshewashappy.Thenhedied,andshewasterriblycutup.Atlastsheagreedtomarryme.Iwassogladtobeabletogivehersomerest,somehappiness,Iwishedshewouldstopworking,butofcourseshefeltitherdutyinwartime,andshestillseemstofeelsheshouldgoon.Butshe’sbeenawonderfulwife—themostwonderfulwifeamaneverhad.Gosh,I’vebeenlucky!I’ddoanythingforher.”
Tavernermadeasuitablerejoinder.Thenheembarkedoncemoreonthefamiliarroutinequestions.Whenhadhefirstheardofhisfather’sillness?
“Brendahadrushedovertocallme.Myfatherwasill—shesaidhehadhadaseizureofsomesort.
“I’dbeensittingwiththedearoldboyonlyabouthalfanhourearlier.He’dbeenperfectlyallrightthen.Irushedover.Hewasblueintheface,gasping.IdasheddowntoPhilip.Herangupthedoctor.I—wecouldn’tdoanything.OfcourseIneverdreamedforamomentthenthattherehadbeenanyfunnybusiness.Funny?DidIsayfunny?God,whatawordtouse.”
Withalittledifficulty,TavernerandIdisentangledourselvesfromtheemotionalatmosphereofRogerLeonides’roomandfoundourselvesoutsidethedoor,oncemoreatthetopofthestairs.
“Whew!”saidTaverner.“Whatacontrastfromtheotherbrother.”Headded,ratherinconsequently:“Curiousthings,rooms.Tellyouquitealotaboutthepeoplewholiveinthem.”
Iagreedandhewenton:
“Curiousthepeoplewhomarryeachother,too,isn’tit?”
IwasnotquitesureifhewasreferringtoClemencyandRoger,ortoPhilipandMagda.Hiswordsappliedequallywelltoeither.Yetitseemedtomethatboththemarriagesmightbeclassedashappyones.Roger’sandClemency’scertainlywas.
“Ishouldn’tsayhewasapoisoner,wouldyou?”askedTaverner.“Notoff-hand,Iwouldn’t.Ofcourseyouneverknow.Nowshe’smorethetype.Remorselesssortofwoman.Mightbeabitmad.”
AgainIagreed.“ButIdon’tsuppose,”Isaid,“thatshe’dmurderanyonejustbecauseshedidn’tapproveoftheiraimsandmodeoflife.Perhaps,ifshereallyhatedtheoldman—butareanymurderscommittedjustoutofpurehate?”
“Preciousfew,”saidTaverner.“I’venevercomeacrossonemyself.No,Ithinkwe’reagooddealsafertosticktoMrs.Brenda.ButGodknowsifwe’llevergetanyevidence.”
Eight
Aparlourmaidopenedthedooroftheoppositewingtous.ShelookedscaredbutslightlycontemptuouswhenshesawTaverner.
“Youwanttoseethemistress?”
“Yes,please.”
Sheshowedusintoabigdrawingroomandwentout.
Itsproportionswerethesameasthedrawingroomonthegroundfloorbelow.Therewerecolouredcretonnes,verygayincolour,andstripedsilkcurtains.Overthemantelpiecewasaportraitthatheldmygazeriveted—notonlybecauseofthemasterhandthathadpaintedit,butalsobecauseofthearrestingfaceofthesubject.
Itwastheportraitofalittleoldmanwithdark,piercingeyes.Heworeablackvelvetskullcapandhisheadwassunkdowninhisshoulders,butthevitalityandpowerofthemanradiatedforthfromthecanvas.Thetwinklingeyesseemedtoholdmine.
“That’shim,”saidChief-InspectorTavernerungrammatically.“PaintedbyAugustusJohn.Gotapersonality,hasn’the?”
“Yes,”Isaid,andfeltthemonosyllablewasinadequate.
IunderstoodnowjustwhatEdithdeHavilandhadmeantwhenshesaidthehouseseemedsoemptyithouthim.ThiswastheOriginalCrookedLittleManwhohadbuilttheCrookedLittleHouse—andwithouthimtheCrookedLittleHousehadlostitsmeaning.
“That’shisfirstwifeoverthere,paintedbySargent,”saidTaverner.
Iexaminedthepictureonthewallbetweenthewindows.IthadacertaincrueltylikemanyofSargent’sportraits.Thelengthofthefacewasexaggerated,Ithought—sowasthefaintsuggestionofhorsiness—theindisputablecorrectness.ItwasaportraitofatypicalEnglishLady—inCountry(notSmart)Society.Handsome,butratherlifeless.Amostunlikelywifeforthegrinning,powerfullittledespotoverthemantelpiece
ThedooropenedandSergeantLambsteppedin.
“I’vedonewhatIcouldwiththeservants,sir,”hesaid.“Didn’tgetanything.”
Tavernersighed.
SergeantLambtookouthisnotebookandretreatedtothefarendoftheroom,whereheseatedhimselfunobtrusively.
ThedooropenedagainandAristideLeonide’ssecondwifecameintotheroom.
Sheworeblack—veryexpensiveblackandagooddealofit.Itswathedheruptotheneckanddowntothewrists.Shemovedeasilyandindolently,andblackcertainlysuitedher.Herfacewasmildlypretty,andshehadrathernicebrownhairarrangedinsomewhattooelaboratestyle.Herfacewaswellpowderedandshehadonlipstickandrouge,butshehadclearlybeencrying.Shewaswearingastringofverylargepearlsandshehadabigemeraldringononehandandanenormousrubyontheother.
TherewasoneotherthingInoticedabouther.Shelookedfrightened.
“Goodmorning,Mrs.Leonides,”saidTavernereasily.“I’msorrytohavetotroubleyouagain.”
Shesaidinaflatvoice:
“Isupposeitcan’tbehelped.”
“Youunderstand,don’tyou,Mrs.Leonides,thatifyouwishyoursolicitortobepresent,thatisperfectlyinorder?”
Iwonderedifshedidunderstandthesignificanceofthosewords.Apparentlynot.Shemerelysaidrathersulkily:
“Idon’tlikeMr.Gaitskill.Idon’twanthim.”
“Youcouldhaveyourownsolicitor,Mrs.Leonides.”
“MustI?Idon’tlikesolicitors.Theyconfuseme.”
“It’sentirelyforyoutodecide,”saidTaverner,producinganautomaticsmile.“Shallwegoon,then?”
SergeantLamblickedhispencil.BrendaLeonidessatdownonasofafacingTaverner.
“Haveyoufoundoutanything?”sheasked.
Inoticedherfingersnervouslytwistinganduntwistingapleatofthechiffonofherdress.
“Wecanstatedefinitelynowthatyourhusbanddiedasaresultofeserinepoisoning.”
“Youmeanthoseeyedropskilledhim?”
“ItseemsquitecertainthatwhenyougaveMr.Leonidesthatlastinjection,itwaseserinethatyouinjectedandnotinsulin.”
“ButIdidn’tknowthat.Ididn’thaveanythingtodowithit.ReallyIdidn’t,Inspector.”
“Thensomebodymusthavedeliberatelyreplacedtheinsulinbytheeyedrops.”
“Whatawickedthingtodo!”
“Yes,Mrs.Leonides.”
“Doyouthink—someonediditonpurpose?Orbyaccident?Itcouldn’thavebeena—ajoke,couldit?”
Tavernersaidsmoothly:
“Wedon’tthinkitwasajoke,Mrs.Leonides.”
“Itmusthavebeenoneoftheservants.”
Tavernerdidnotanswer.
“Itmust.Idon’tseewhoelsecouldhavedoneit.”
“Areyousure?Think,Mrs.Leonides.Haven’tyouanyideasatall?There’sbeennoill-feelinganywhere?Noquarrel?Nogrudge?”
Shestillstaredathimwithlargedefianteyes.
“I’venoideaatall,”shesaid.
“Youhadbeenatthecinemathatafternoon,yousaid?”
“Yes—Icameinathalfpastsix—itwastimefortheinsulin—I—I—gavehimtheinjectionjustthesameasusualandthenhe—hewentallqueer.Iwasterrified—IrushedovertoRoger—I’vetoldyouallthisbefore.HaveIgottogooveritagainandagain?”Hervoicerosehysterically.
“I’msorry,Mrs.Leonides.NowcanIspeaktoMr.Brown?”
“ToLaurence?Why?Hedoesn’tknowanythingaboutit.”
“I’dliketospeaktohimallthesame.”
Shestaredathimsuspiciously.
“EustaceisdoingLatinwithhimintheschoolroom.Doyouwanthimtocomehere?”
“No—we’llgotohim.”
Tavernerwentquicklyoutoftheroom.ThesergeantandIfollowed.
“You’veputthewindupher,sir,”saidSergeantLamb.
Tavernergrunted.Heledthewayupashortflightofstepsandalongapassageintoabigroomlookingoverthegarden.Thereafair-hairedyoungmanofaboutthirtyandahandsome,darkboyofsixteenweresittingatatable.
Theylookedupatourentrance.Sophia’sbrotherEustacelookedatme,LaurenceBrownfixedanagonizedgazeonChief-InspectorTaverner.
Ihaveneverseenamanlooksocompletelyparalysedwithfright.Hestoodup,thensatdownagain.Hesaid,andhisvoicewasalmostasqueak:
“Oh—er—goodmorning,Inspector.”
“Goodmorning.”Tavernerwascurt.“CanIhaveawordwithyou?”
“Yes,ofcourse.Onlytoopleased.Atleast—”
Eustacegotup.
“Doyouwantmetogoaway,Chief-Inspector?”Hisvoicewaspleasantwithafaintlyarrogantnote.
“We—wecancontinueourstudieslater,”saidthetutor.
Eustacestrollednegligentlytowardsthedoor.Hewalkedratherstiffly.Justashewentthroughthedoorhecaughtmyeye,drewaforefingeracrossthefrontofhisthroatandgrinned.Thenheshutthedoorbehindhim.
“Well,Mr.Brown,”saidTaverner.“Theanalysisisquitedefinite.ItwaseserinethatcausedMr.Leonides’death.”
“I—youmean—Mr.Leonideswasreallypoisoned?Ihavebeenhoping—”
“Hewaspoisoned,”saidTavernercurtly.“Someonesubstitutedeserineeyedropsforinsulin.”
“Ican’tbelieveit…It’sincredible.”
“Thequestionis,whohadamotive?”
“Nobody.Nobodyatall!”Theyoungman’svoiceroseexcitedly.
“Youwouldn’tliketohaveyoursolicitorpresent,wouldyou?”inquiredTaverner.
“Ihaven’tgotasolicitor.Idon’twantone.Ihavenothingtohide—nothing….”
“Andyouquiteunderstandthatwhatyousayisabouttobetakendown?”
“I’minnocent—Iassureyou,I’minnocent.”
“Ihavenotsuggestedanythingelse.”Tavernerpaused.“Mrs.Leonideswasagooddealyoungerthanherhusband,wasshenot?”
“I—Isupposeso—Imean,well,yes.”
“Shemusthavefeltlonelysometimes?”
LaurenceBrowndidnotanswer.Hepassedhistongueoverhisdrylips.
“Tohaveacompanionofmoreorlessherownagelivingheremusthavebeenagreeabletoher?”
“I—no,notatall—Imean—Idon’tknow.”
“Itseemstomequitenaturalthatanattachmentshouldhavesprungupbetweenyou.”
Theyoungmanprotestedvehemently.
“Itdidn’t!Itwasn’t!Nothingofthekind!Iknowwhatyou’rethinking,butitwasn’tso!Mrs.LeonideswasverykindtomealwaysandIhadthegreatest—thegreatestrespectforher—butnothingmore—nothingmore,Idoassureyou.It’smonstroustosuggestthingsofthatkind!Monstrous!Iwouldn’tkillanybody—ortamperwithbottles—oranythinglikethat.I’mverysensitiveandhighlystrung.I—theveryideaofkillingisanightmaretome—theyquiteunderstoodthatatthetribunal—Ihavereligiousobjectionstokilling.Ididhospitalworkinstead—stokingboilers—terriblyheavywork—Icouldn’tgoonwithit—buttheyletmetakeupeducationalwork.IhavedonemybestherewithEustaceandwithJosephine—averyintelligentchild,butdifficult.Andeverybodyhasbeenmostkindtome—Mr.LeonidesandMrs.LeonidesandMissdeHaviland.Andnowthisawfulthinghappens…Andyoususpectme—me—ofmurder!”
InspectorTavernerlookedathimwithaslow,appraisinginterest.
“Ihaven’tsaidso,”heremarked.
“Butyouthinkso!Iknowyouthinkso!Theyallthinkso!Theylookatme.I—Ican’tgoontalkingtoyou.I’mnotwell.”
Hehurriedoutoftheroom.Tavernerturnedhisheadslowlytolookatme.
“Well,whatdoyouthinkofhim?”
“He’sscaredstiff.”
“Yes,Iknow,butisheamurderer?”
“Ifyouaskme,”saidSergeantLamb,“he’dneverhavehadthenerve.”
“He’dneverhavebashedanyoneonthehead,orshotoffapistol,”agreedtheChief-Inspector.“Butinthisparticularcrimewhatistheretodo?Justmonkeyaboutwithacoupleofbottles…Justhelpaveryoldmanoutoftheworldinacomparativelypainlessmanner.”
“Practicallyeuthanasia,”saidthesergeant.
“Andthen,perhaps,afteradecentinterval,marriagewithawomanwhoinheritsahundredthousandpoundsfreeoflegacyduty,whoalreadyhasaboutthesameamountsettleduponher,andwhohasinadditionpearlsandrubiesandemeraldsthesizeofwhat’s-its-nameeggs!”
“Ah,well—”Tavernersighed.“It’salltheoryandconjecture!Imanagedtoscarehimallright,butthatdoesn’tproveanything.He’sjustaslikelytobescaredifhe’sinnocent.Andanyway,Iratherdoubtifhewastheoneactuallytodoit.Morelikelytohavebeenthewoman—onlywhyonearthdidn’tshethrowawaytheinsulinbottle,orrinseitout?”Heturnedtothesergeant.“Noevidencefromtheservantsaboutanygoingson?”
“Theparlourmaidsaysthey’resweetoneachother.”
“Whatgrounds?”
“Thewayhelooksatherwhenshepoursouthiscoffee.”
“Fatlotofgoodthatwouldbeinacourtoflaw!Definitelynocarryingson?”
“Notthatanybody’sseen.”
“Ibettheywouldhaveseen,too,iftherehadbeenanythingtosee.YouknowI’mbeginningtobelievetherereallyisnothingbetweenthem.”Helookedatme.“Gobackandtalktoher.I’dlikeyourimpressionofher.”
Iwent,half-reluctantly,yetIwasinterested.
Nine
IfoundBrendaLeonidessittingexactlywhereIhadlefther.ShelookedupsharplyasIentered.
“Where’sInspectorTaverner?Ishecomingback?”
“Notjustyet.”
“Whoareyou?”
AtlastIhadbeenaskedthequestionthatIhadbeenexpectingallthemorning.
Ianswereditwithreasonabletruth.
“I’mconnectedwiththepolice,butI’malsoafriendofthefamily.”
“Thefamily!Beasts!Ihatethemall.”
Shelookedatme,hermouthworking.Shelookedsullenandfrightenedandangry.
“They’vebeenbeastlytomealways—always.Fromtheveryfirst.Whyshouldn’tImarrytheirpreciousfather?Whatdiditmattertothem?They’dallgotloadsofmoney.Hegaveittothem.Theywouldn’thavehadthebrainstomakeanyforthemselves!”
Shewenton:
“Whyshouldn’tamanmarryagain—evenifheisabitold?Andhewasn’treallyoldatall—notinhimself.Iwasveryfondofhim.Iwasfondofhim.”Shelookedatmedefiantly.
“Isee,”Isaid.“Isee.”
“Isupposeyoudon’tbelievethat—butit’strue.Iwassickofmen.Iwantedtohaveahome—Iwantedsomeonetomakeafussofmeandsaynicethingstome.Aristidesaidlovelythingstome—andhecouldmakeyoulaugh—andhewasclever.Hethoughtupallsortsofsmartwaystogetroundallthesesillyregulations.Hewasvery,veryclever.I’mnotgladhe’sdead.I’msorry.”
Sheleanedbackonthesofa.Shehadratherawidemouth;itcurledupsidewaysinaqueer,sleepysmile.
“I’vebeenhappyhere.I’vebeensafe.Iwenttoallthoseposhdressmakers—theonesI’dreadabout.Iwasasgoodasanybody.AndAristidegavemelovelythings.”Shestretchedoutahand,lookingattherubyonit.
JustforamomentIsawthehandandarmlikeanoutstretchedcat’sclaw,andheardhervoiceasapurr.Shewasstillsmilingtoherself.
“What’swrongwiththat?”shedemanded.“Iwasnicetohim.Imadehimhappy.”Sheleanedforward.“DoyouknowhowImethim?”
Shewentonwithoutwaitingforananswer.
“ItwasintheGayShamrock.He’dorderedscrambledeggsontoastandwhenIbroughtthemtohimIwascrying.‘Sitdown,’hesaid,‘andtellmewhat’sthematter.’‘Oh,Icouldn’t,’Isaid.‘I’dgetthesackifIdidathinglikethat.’‘No,youwon’t,’hesaid,‘Iownthisplace.’Ilookedathimthen.Suchanoddlittlemanhewas,Ithoughtatfirst—buthe’dgotasortofpower.Itoldhimallaboutit…You’llhaveheardaboutitallfromthem,Iexpect—makingoutIwasaregularbadlot—butIwasn’t.Iwasbroughtupverycarefully.Wehadashop—averyhigh-classshop—artneedlework.Iwasneverthesortofgirlwhohadalotofboyfriendsormadeherselfcheap.ButTerrywasdifferent.HewasIrish—andhewasgoingoverseas…Heneverwroteoranything—IsupposeIwasafool.Sothereitwas,yousee.Iwasintrouble—justlikesomedreadfullittleservantgirl….”
Hervoicewasdisdainfulinitssnobbery.
“Aristidewaswonderful.Hesaideverythingwouldbeallright.Hesaidhewaslonely.We’dbemarriedatonce,hesaid.Itwaslikeadream.AndthenIfoundouthewasthegreatMr.Leonides.Heownedmassesofshopsandrestaurantsandnightclubs.Itwasquitelikeafairytale,wasn’tit?”
“Onekindofafairytale,”Isaiddrily.
“WeweremarriedatalittlechurchintheCity—andthenwewentabroad.”
Shelookedatmewitheyesthatcamebackfromalongdistance.
“Therewasn’tachildafterall.Itwasallamistake.”
Shesmiled,thecurled-upsideways,crookedsmile.
“IvowedtomyselfthatI’dbeareallygoodwifetohim,andIwas.Iorderedallthekindsoffoodheliked,andworethecolourshefanciedandIdidallIcouldtopleasehim.Andhewashappy.Butwenevergotridofthatfamilyofhis.Alwayscomingandspongingandlivinginhispocket.OldMissdeHaviland—Ithinksheoughttohavegoneawaywhenhegotmarried.Isaidso.ButAristidesaid,‘She’sbeenheresolong.It’sherhomenow.’Thetruthishelikedtohavethemallaboutandunderfoot.Theywerebeastlytome,butheneverseemedtonoticethatortomindaboutit.Rogerhatesme—haveyouseenRoger?He’salwayshatedme.He’sjealous.AndPhilip’ssostuckupheneverspeakstome.Andnowthey’retryingtopretendImurderedhim—andIdidn’t—Ididn’t!”Sheleanedtowardsme.“PleasebelieveIdidn’t.”
Ifoundherverypathetic.ThecontemptuouswaytheLeonidesfamilyhadspokenofher,theireagernesstobelievethatshehadcommittedthecrime—now,atthismoment,itallseemedpositivelyinhumanconduct.Shewasalone,defenceless,hunteddown.
“Andifit’snotme,theythinkit’sLaurence,”shewenton.
“WhataboutLaurence?”Iasked.
“I’mterriblysorryforLaurence.He’sdelicateandhecouldn’tgoandfight.It’snotbecausehewasacoward.It’sbecausehe’ssensitive.I’vetriedtocheerhimupandtomakehimfeelhappy.Hehastoteachthosehorriblechildren.Eustaceisalwayssneeringathim,andJosephine—well,you’veseenJosephine.Youknowwhatshe’slike.”
IsaidIhadn’tmetJosephineyet.
“SometimesIthinkthatchildisn’trightinherhead.Shehashorriblesneakyways,andshelooksqueer…Shegivesmetheshiverssometimes.”
Ididn’twanttotalkaboutJosephine.IharkedbacktoLaurenceBrown.
“Whoishe?”Iasked.“Wheredoeshecomefrom?”
Ihadphraseditclumsily.Sheflushed.
“Heisn’tanybodyparticular.He’sjustlikeme…Whatchancehavewegotagainstallofthem?”
“Don’tyouthinkyou’rebeingalittlehysterical?”
“No,Idon’t.TheywanttomakeoutthatLaurencedidit—orthatIdid.They’vegotthatpolicemanontheirside.WhatchancehaveIgot?”
“Youmustn’tworkyourselfup,”Isaid.
“Whyshouldn’titbeoneofthemwhokilledhim?Orsomeonefromoutside?Oroneoftheservants?”
“There’sacertainlackofmotive.”
“Oh,motive!WhatmotivehadIgot?OrLaurence?”
IfeltratheruncomfortableasIsaid:
“Theymightthink,Isuppose,thatyouand—er—Laurence—areinlovewitheachother—thatyouwantedtomarry.”
Shesatboltupright.
“That’sawickedthingtosuggest!Andit’snottrue!We’veneversaidawordofthatkindtoeachother.I’vejustbeensorryforhimandtriedtocheerhimup.We’vebeenfriends,that’sall.Youdobelieveme,don’tyou?”
Ididbelieveher.Thatis,IbelievedthatsheandLaurencewere,assheputit,onlyfriends.ButIalsobelievedthat,possiblyunknowntoherself,shewasactuallyinlovewiththeyoungman.
ItwaswiththatthoughtinmymindthatIwentdownstairsinsearchofSophia
AsIwasabouttogointothedrawingroom,Sophiapokedherheadoutofadoorfartheralongthepassage.
“Hallo,”shesaid.“I’mhelpingNanniewithlunch.”
Iwouldhavejoinedher,butshecameoutintothepassage,shutthedoorbehindher,andtakingmyarmledmeintothedrawingroom,whichwasempty.
“Well,”shesaid,“didyouseeBrenda?Whatdidyouthinkofher?”
“Frankly,”Isaid,“Iwassorryforher.”
Sophialookedamused.
“Isee,”shesaid.“Soshegotyou.”
Ifeltslightlyirritated.
“Thepointis,”Isaid,“thatIcanseehersideofit.Apparentlyyoucan’t.”
“Hersideofwhat?”
“Honestly,Sophia,haveanyofthefamilyeverbeennicetoher,orevenfairlydecenttoher,sinceshecamehere?”
“No,wehaven’tbeennicetoher.Whyshouldwebe?”
“JustordinaryChristiankindliness,ifnothingelse.”
“Whataveryhighmoraltoneyou’retaking,Charles.Brendamusthavedoneherstuffprettywell.”
“Really,Sophia,youseem—Idon’tknowwhat’scomeoveryou.”
“I’mjustbeinghonestandnotpretending.You’veseenBrenda’ssideofit,soyousay.Nowtakealookatmyside.Idon’tlikethetypeofyoungwomanwhomakesupahard-luckstoryandmarriesaveryricholdmanonthestrengthofit.I’veaperfectrightnottolikethattypeofyoungwoman,andthereisnoearthlyreasonwhyIshouldpretendIdo.Andifthefactswerewrittendownincoldbloodonpaper,youwouldn’tlikethatyoungwomaneither.”
“Wasitamade-upstory?”Iasked.
“Aboutthechild?Idon’tknow.Personally,Ithinkso.”
“Andyouresentthefactthatyourgrandfatherwastakeninbyit?”
“Oh,grandfatherwasn’ttakenin.”Sophialaughed.“Grandfatherwasnevertakeninbyanybody.HewantedBrenda.HewantedtoplayCophetuatoherbeggar-maid.Heknewjustwhathewasdoinganditworkedoutbeautifullyaccordingtoplan.Fromgrandfather’spointofviewthemarriagewasacompletesuccess—likeallhisotheroperations.”
“WasengagingLaurenceBrownastutoranotherofyourgrandfather’ssuccesses?”Iaskedironically.
Sophiafrowned.
“Doyouknow,I’mnotsurethatitwasn’t.HewantedtokeepBrendahappyandamused.Hemayhavethoughtthatjewelsandclothesweren’tenough.Hemayhavethoughtshewantedamildromanceinherlife.HemayhavecalculatedthatsomeonelikeLaurenceBrown,somebodyreallytame,ifyouknowwhatImean,wouldjustdothetrick.AbeautifulsoulfulfriendshiptingedwithmelancholythatwouldstopBrendafromhavingarealaffairwithsomeoneoutside.Iwouldn’tputitpastgrandfathertohaveworkedoutsomethingonthoselines.Hewasratheranolddevil,youknow.”
“Hemusthavebeen,”Isaid.
“Hecouldn’t,ofcourse,havevisualizedthatitwouldleadtomurder…Andthat,”saidSophia,speakingwithsuchvehemence,“isreallywhyIdon’t,muchasIwouldliketo,reallybelievethatshedidit.Ifshe’dplannedtomurderhim—orifsheandLaurencehadplannedittogether—grandfatherwouldhaveknownaboutit.Idaresaythatseemsabitfar-fetchedtoyou—”
“Imustconfessitdoes,”Isaid.
“Butthenyoudidn’tknowgrandfather.Hecertainlywouldn’thaveconnivedathisownmurder!Sothereyouare!Upagainstablankwall.”
“She’sfrightened,Sophia,”Isaid.“She’sveryfrightened.”
“Chief-InspectorTavernerandhismerry,merrymen?Yes,Idaresaytheyareratheralarming.Laurence,Isuppose,isinhysterics?”
“Practically.Hemade,Ithought,adisgustingexhibitionofhimself.Idon’tunderstandwhatawomancanseeinamanlikethat.”
“Don’tyou,Charles?ActuallyLaurencehasalotofsexappeal.”
“Aweaklinglikethat,”Isaidincredulously.
“Whydomenalwaysthinkthatacavemanmustnecessarilybetheonlytypeofpersonattractivetotheoppositesex?Laurencehasgotsexappealallright—butIwouldn’texpectyoutobeawareofit.”Shelookedatme.“Brendagotherhooksintoyouallright.”
“Don’tbeabsurd.She’snotevenreallygood-looking.Andshecertainlydidn’t—”
“Displayallure?No,shejustmadeyousorryforher.She’snotactuallybeautiful,she’snotintheleastclever—butshe’sgotoneveryoutstandingcharacteristic.Shecanmaketrouble.She’smadetrouble,already,betweenyouandme.”
“Sophia!”Icriedaghast.
Sophiawenttothedoor.
“Forgetit,Charles.Imustgetonwithlunch.”
“I’llcomeandhelp.”
“No,youstayhere.ItwillrattleNannietohave‘agentlemaninthekitchen.’”
“Sophia,”Icalledasshewentout.
“Yes,whatisit?”
“Justaservantproblem.Whyhaven’tyougotanyservantsdownhereandupstairssomethinginanapronandacapopenedthedoortous?”
“Grandfatherhadacook,housemaid,parlourmaid,andvalet-attendant.Helikedservants.Hepaidthemtheearth,ofcourse,andhegotthem.ClemencyandRogerjusthaveadailywomanwhocomesinandcleans.Theydon’tlikeservants—orratherClemencydoesn’t.IfRogerdidn’tgetasquaremealintheCityeveryday,he’dstarve.Clemency’sideaofamealislettuce,tomatoes,andrawcarrot.Wesometimeshaveservants,andthenmotherthrowsoneofhertemperamentsandtheyleave,andwehavedailiesforabitandthenstartagain.We’reinthedailyperiod.Nannieisthepermanencyandcopesinemergencies.Nowyouknow.”
Sophiawentout.Isankdowninoneofthelargebrocadedchairsandgavemyselfuptospeculation.
UpstairsIhadseenBrenda’ssideofit.HereandnowIhadbeenshownSophia’ssideofit.IrealizedcompletelythejusticeofSophia’spointofview—whatmightbecalledtheLeonidesfamily’spointofview.Theyresentedastrangerwithinthegateswhohadobtainedadmissionbywhattheyregardedasignoblemeans.Theywereentirelywithintheirrights.AsSophiahadsaid:onpaperitwouldn’tlookwell….
Buttherewasthehumansideofit—thesidethatIsawandthattheydidn’t.Theywere,theyalwayshadbeen,richandwellestablished.Theyhadnoconceptionofthetemptationsoftheunderdog.BrendaLeonideshadwantedwealth,andprettythingsandsafety—andahome.Shehadclaimedthatinexchangeshehadmadeheroldhusbandhappy.Ihadsympathywithher.Certainly,whileIwastalkingwithher,Ihadhadsympathyforher…HadIgotasmuchsympathynow?
Twosidestothequestion—differentanglesofvision—whichwasthetrueangle…thetrueangle….
Ihadsleptverylittlethenightbefore.IhadbeenupearlytoaccompanyTaverner.Now,inthewarm,flower-scentedatmosphereofMagdaLeonides’drawingroom,mybodyrelaxedinthecushionedembraceofthebigchairandmyeyelidsdropped….
ThinkingofBrenda,ofSophia,ofanoldman’spicture,mythoughtsslidtogetherintoapleasanthaze.
Islept….
Ten
IreturnedtoconsciousnesssograduallythatIdidn’tatfirstrealizethatIhadbeenasleep.
Thescentoftheflowerswasinmynose.Infrontofmearoundwhiteblobappearedtofloatinspace.ItwassomefewsecondsbeforeIrealizedthatitwasahumanfaceIwaslookingat—afacesuspendedintheairaboutafootortwoawayfromme.Asmyfacultiesreturned,myvisionbecamemoreprecise.Thefacestillhaditsgoblinsuggestion—it
“Hallo,”itsaid.
“Hallo,”Ireplied,blinking.
“I’mJosephine.”
Ihadalreadydeducedthat.Sophia’ssister,Josephine,was,Ijudged,aboutelevenortwelveyearsofage.Shewasafantasticallyuglychildwithaverydistinctlikenesstohergrandfather.Itseemedtomepossiblethatshealsohadhisbrains.
“You’reSophia’syoungman,”saidJosephine.
Iacknowledgedthecorrectnessofthisremark.
“ButyoucamedownherewithChief-InspectorTaverner.WhydidyoucomewithChief-InspectorTaverner?”
“He’safriendofmine.”
“Ishe?Idon’tlikehim.Ishan’ttellhimthings.”
“Whatsortofthings?”
“ThethingsIknow.Iknowalotofthings.Ilikeknowingthings.”
Shesatdownonthearmofthechairandcontinuedhersearchingscrutinyofmyface.Ibegantofeelquiteuncomfortable.
“Grandfather’sbeenmurdered.Didyouknow?”
“Yes,”Isaid.“Iknew.”
“Hewaspoisoned.Withes-er-ine.”Shepronouncedthewordverycarefully.“It’sinteresting,isn’tit?”
“Isupposeitis.”
“EustaceandIareveryinterested.Welikedetectivestories.I’vealwayswantedtobeadetective.I’mbeingonenow.I’mcollectingclues.”
Shewas,Ifelt,ratheraghoulishchild.
Shereturnedtothecharge.
“ThemanwhocamewithChief-InspectorTavernerisadetectivetoo,isn’the?Inbooksitsaysyoucanalwaysknowplain-clothesdetectivesbytheirboots.Butthisdetectivewaswearingsuedeshoes.”
“Theoldorderchangeth,”Isaid.
Josephineinterpretedthisremarkaccordingtoherownideas.
“Yes,”shesaid,“therewillbealotofchangesherenow,Iexpect.WeshallgoandliveinahouseinLondonontheEmbankment.Motherhaswantedtoforalongtime.She’llbeverypleased.Idon’texpectfatherwillmindifhisbooksgo,too.Hecouldn’tafforditbefore.HelostanawfullotofmoneyoverJezebel.”
“Jezebel?”Iqueried.
“Yes,didn’tyouseeit?”
“Oh,itwasaplay?No,Ididn’t.I’vebeenabroad.”
“Itdidn’trunverylong.Actuallyitwasthemostawfulflop.Idon’tthinkmother’sreallythetypetoplayJezebel,doyou?”
IbalancedmyimpressionsofMagda.Neitherinthepeach-colourednégligénorinthetailoredsuithadsheconveyedanysuggestionofJezebel,butIwaswillingtobelievethattherewereotherMagdasthatIhadnotyetseen.
“Perhapsnot,”Isaidcautiously.
“Grandfatheralwayssaiditwouldbeaflop.Hesaidhewouldn’tputupanymoneyforoneofthosehistoricalreligiousplays.Hesaiditwouldneverbeabox-officesuccess.Butmotherwasfrightfullykeen.Ididn’tlikeitmuchmyself.Itwasn’treallyabitlikethestoryintheBible.Imean,Jezebelwasn’twickedlikesheisintheBible.Shewasallpatrioticandreallyquitenice.Thatmadeitdull.Still,theendwasallright.Theythrewheroutofthewindow.Onlynodogscameandateher.Ithinkthatwasapity,don’tyou?Ilikethepartaboutthedogseatingherbest.Mothersaysyoucan’thavedogsonthestagebutIdon’tseewhy.Youcouldhaveperformingdogs.”Shequotedwithgusto:“‘Andtheyateherallbutthepalmsofherhands.’Whydidn’ttheyeatthepalmsofherhands?”
“I’vereallynoidea,”Isaid.
“Youwouldn’tthink,wouldyou,thatdogsweresoparticular.Ourdogsaren’t.Theyeatsimplyanything.”
JosephinebroodedonthisBiblicalmysteryforsomeseconds.
“I’msorrytheplaywasaflop,”Isaid.
“Yes.Motherwasterriblyupset.Thenoticesweresimplyfrightful.Whenshereadthem,sheburstintotearsandcriedalldayandshethrewherbreakfasttrayatGladys,andGladysgavenotice.Itwasratherfun.”
“Iperceivethatyoulikedrama,Josephine,”Isaid.
“Theydidapost-mortemongrandfather,”saidJosephine.“Tofindoutwhathehaddiedof.AP.M.,theycallit,butIthinkthat’sratherconfusing,don’tyou?BecauseP.M.standsforPrimeMinistertoo.Andforafternoon,”sheaddedthoughtfully.
“Areyousorryyourgrandfatherisdead?”Iasked.
“Notparticularly.Ididn’tlikehimmuch.Hestoppedmelearningtobeaballetdancer.”
“Didyouwanttolearnballetdancing?”
“Yes,andmotherwaswillingformetolearn,andfatherdidn’tmind,butgrandfathersaidI’dbenogood.”
Sheslippedoffthearmofthechair,kickedoffhershoesandendeavouredtogetontowhatarecalledtechnically,Ibelieve,herpoints.
“Youhavetohavethepropershoes,ofcourse,”sheexplained,“andeventhenyougetfrightfulabscessessometimesontheendsofyourtoes.”Sheresumedhershoesandinquiredcasually:
“Doyoulikethishouse?”
“I’mnotquitesure,”Isaid.
“Isupposeitwillbesoldnow.UnlessBrendagoesonlivinginit.AndIsupposeUncleRogerandAuntClemencywon’tbegoingawaynow.”
“Weretheygoingaway?”Iaskedwithafaintstirringofinterest.
“Yes.TheyweregoingonTuesday.Abroadsomewhere.Theyweregoingbyair.AuntClemencyboughtoneofthosenewfeatherweightcases.”
“Ihadn’theardtheyweregoingabroad,”Isaid.
“No,”saidJosephine.“Nobodyknew.Itwasasecret.Theyweren’tgoingtotellanyoneuntilafterthey’dgone.Theyweregoingtoleaveanotebehindforgrandfather.”
Sheadded:
“Notpinnedtothepincushion.That’sonlyinveryold-fashionedbooksandwivesdoitwhentheyleavetheirhusbands.Butitwouldbesillynowbecausenobodyhaspincushionsanymore.”
“Ofcoursetheydon’t.Josephine,doyouknowwhyyourUncleRogerwas—goingaway?”
Sheshotmeacunningsidewaysglance.
“IthinkIdo.ItwassomethingtodowithUncleRoger’sofficeinLondon.Iratherthink—butI’mnotsure—thathe’dembezzledsomething.”
“Whatmakesyouthinkthat?”
Josephinecamenearerandbreathedheavilyinmyface.
“ThedaythatgrandfatherwaspoisonedUncleRogerwasshutupinhisroomwithhimeversolong.Theyweretalkingandtalking.AndUncleRogerwassayingthathe’dneverbeenanygood,andthathe’dletgrandfatherdown—andthatitwasn’tthemoneysomuch—itwasthefeelinghe’dbeenunworthyoftrust.Hewasinanawfulstate.”
IlookedatJosephinewithmixedfeelings.
“Josephine,”Isaid,“hasn’tanybodyevertoldyouthatit’snotnicetolistenatdoors?”
Josephinenoddedherheadvigorously.
“Ofcoursetheyhave.Butifyouwanttofindthingsout,youhavetolistenatdoors.IbetChief-InspectorTavernerdoes,don’tyou?”
Iconsideredthepoint.Josephinewentonvehemently:
“Andanyway,ifhedoesn’t,theotheronedoes,theonewiththesuedeshoes.Andtheylookinpeople’sdesksandreadalltheirletters,andfindoutalltheirsecrets.Onlythey’restupid!Theydon’tknowwheretolook!”
Josephinespokewithcoldsuperiority.Iwasstupidenoughtolettheinferenceescapeme.Theunpleasantchildwenton:
“EustaceandIknowlotsofthings—butIknowmorethanEustacedoes.AndIshan’ttellhim.Hesayswomencan’teverbegreatdetectives.ButIsaytheycan.I’mgoingtowritedowneverythinginanotebookandthen,whenthepolicearecompletelybaffled,Ishallcomeforwardandsay,‘Icantellyouwhodidit.’”
“Doyoureadalotofdetectivestories,Josephine?”
“Masses.”
“Isupposeyouthinkyouknowwhokilledyourgrandfather?”
“Well,Ithinkso—butIshallhavetofindafewmoreclues.”Shepausedandadded:“Chief-InspectorTavernerthinksthatBrendadidit,doesn’the?OrBrendaandLaurencetogetherbecausethey’reinlovewitheachother.”
“Youshouldn’tsaythingslikethat,Josephine.”
“Whynot?Theyareinlovewitheachother.”
“Youcan’tpossiblyjudge.”
“Yes,Ican.Theywritetoeachother.Loveletters.”
“Josephine!Howdoyouknowthat?”
“BecauseI’vereadthem.Awfullysoppyletters.ButLaurenceissoppy.Hewastoofrightenedtofightinthewar.Hewentintobasements,andstokedboilers.Whentheflying-bombswentoverhere,heusedtoturngreen—reallygreen.ItmadeEustaceandmelaughalot.”
WhatIwouldhavesaidnextIdonotknow,foratthatmomentacardrewupoutside.InaflashJosephinewasatthewindow,hersnubnosepressedtothepane.
“Whoisit?”Iasked.
“It’sMr.Gaitskill,grandfather’slawyer.Iexpecthe’scomeaboutthewill.”
Breathingexcitedly,shehurriedfromtheroom,doubtlesstoresumehersleuthingactivities.
MagdaLeonidescameintotheroom,andtomysurprisecameacrosstomeandtookmyhandsinhers.
“Mydear,”shesaid,“thankgoodnessyou’restillhere.Oneneedsamansobadly.”
Shedroppedmyhands,crossedtoahigh-backedchair,altereditspositionalittle,glancedatherselfinamirror,then,pickingupasmallBatterseaenamelboxfromatable,shestoodpensivelyopeningandshuttingit.
Itwasanattractivepose.
Sophiaputherheadinatthedoorandsaidinanadmonitorywhisper,“Gaitskill!”
“Iknow,”saidMagda.
AfewmomentslaterSophiaenteredtheroom,accompaniedbyasmallelderlyman,andMagdaputdownherenamelboxandcameforwardtomeethim.
“Goodmorning,Mrs.Philip.I’monmywayupstairs.Itseemsthere’ssomemisunderstandingaboutthewill.Yourhusbandwrotetomewiththeimpressionthatthewillwasinmykeeping.IunderstoodfromMr.Leonideshimselfthatitwasathisvault.Youdon’tknowanythingaboutit,Isuppose?”
“AboutpoorSweetie’swill?”Magdaopenedastonishedeyes.“No,ofcoursenot.Don’ttellmethatwickedwomanupstairshasdestroyedit?”
“Now,Mrs.Philip,”—heshookanadmonitoryfingerather—“nowildsurmises.It’sjustaquestionofwhereyourfather-in-lawkeptit.”
“Buthesentittoyou—surelyhedid—aftersigningit.Heactuallytoldushehad.”
“Thepolice,Iunderstand,havebeenthroughMr.Leonides’privatepapers,”saidMr.Gaitskill.“I’lljusthaveawordwithChief-InspectorTaverner.”
Helefttheroom.
“Darling,”criedMagda.“Shehasdestroyedit.IknowI’mright.”
“Nonsense,Mother,shewouldn’tdoastupidthinglikethat.”
“Itwouldn’tbestupidatall.Ifthere’snowillshe’llgeteverything.”
“Ssh—here’sGaitskillbackagain.”
Thelawyerreenteredtheroom.Chief-InspectorTavernerwaswithhimandbehindTavernercamePhilip.
“IunderstoodfromMr.Leonides,”Gaitskillwassaying,“thathehadplacedhiswillwiththeBankforsafekeeping.”
Tavernershookhishead.
“I’vebeenincommunicationwiththeBank.TheyhavenoprivatepapersbelongingtoMr.Leonidesbeyondcertainsecuritieswhichtheyheldforhim.”
Philipsaid:
“IwonderifRoger—orAuntEdith…Perhaps,Sophia,you’daskthemtocomedownhere.”
ButRogerLeonides,summonedwiththeotherstotheconclave,couldgivenoassistance.
“Butit’snonsense—absolutenonsense,”hedeclared.“FathersignedthewillandsaiddistinctlythathewaspostingittoMr.Gaitskillonthefollowingday.”
“Ifmymemoryservesme,”saidMr.Gaitskill,leaningbackandhalf-closinghiseyes,“itwasonNovember24thoflastyearthatIforwardedadraftdrawnupaccordingtoMr.Leonides’instructions.Heapprovedthedraft,returnedittome,andinduecourseIsenthimthewillforsignature.Afteralapseofaweek,IventuredtoremindhimthatIhadnotyetreceivedthewilldulysignedandattested,andaskinghimifherewasanythinghewishedaltered.Herepliedthathewasperfectlysatisfied,andaddedthataftersigningthewillhehadsentittohisbank.”
“That’squiteright,”saidRogereagerly.“ItwasabouttheendofNovemberlastyear—youremember,Philip?Fatherhadusalluponeeveningandreadthewilltous.”
TavernerturnedtowardsPhilipLeonides
“Thatagreeswithyourrecollection,Mr.Leonides?”
“Yes,”saidPhilip.
“ItwasratherliketheVoyseyInheritance,”saidMagda.Shesighedpleasurably.“Ialwaysthinkthere’ssomethingsodramaticaboutawill.”
“MissSophia?”
“Yes,”saidSophia.“Irememberperfectly.”
“Andtheprovisionsofthatwill?”askedTaverner.
Mr.Gaitskillwasabouttoreplyinhisprecisefashion,butRogerLeonidesgotaheadofhim.
“Itwasaperfectlysimplewill.ElectraandJoycehaddiedandtheirshareofthesettlementshadreturnedtofather.Joyce’sson,William,hadbeenkilledinactioninBurma,andthemoneyheleftwenttohisfather.PhilipandIandthechildrenweretheonlyrelativesleft.Fatherexplainedthat.HeleftfiftythousandpoundsfreeofdutytoAuntEdith,ahundredthousandpoundsfreeofdutytoBrenda,thishousetoBrenda,orelseasuitablehouseinLondontobepurchasedforher,whichevershepreferred.Theresiduetobedividedintothreeportions,onetomyself,onetoPhilip,thethirdtobedividedbetweenSophia,Eustace,andJosephine,theportionsofthelasttwotobeheldintrustuntiltheyshouldcomeofage.Ithinkthat’sright,isn’tit,Mr.Gaitskill?”
“Thoseare—roughlystated—theprovisionsofthedocumentIdrewup,”agreedMr.Gaitskill,displayingsomeslightacerbityatnothavingbeenallowedtospeakforhimself.
“Fatherreaditouttous,”saidRoger.“Heaskediftherewasanycommentwemightliketomake.Ofcoursetherewasnone.”
“Brendamadeacomment,”saidMissdeHaviland.
“Yes,”saidMagdawithzest.“Shesaidshecouldn’tbearherdarlingoldAristidetotalkaboutdeath.It‘gaveherthecreeps,’shesaid.Andafterhewasdeadshedidn’twantanyofthehorridmoney!”
“That,”saidMissdeHaviland,“wasaconventionalprotest,typicalofherclass.”
Itwasacruelandbitinglittleremark.IrealizedsuddenlyhowmuchEdithdeHavilanddislikedBrenda.
“Averyfairandreasonabledisposalofhisestate,”saidMr.Gaitskill.
“Andafterreadingitwhathappened?”askedInspectorTaverner.
“Afterreadingit,”saidRoger,“hesignedit.”
Tavernerleanedforward.
“Justhowandwhendidhesignit?”
Rogerlookedroundathiswifeinanappealingway.Clemencyspokeinanswertothatlook.Therestofthefamilyseemedcontentforhertodoso.
“Youwanttoknowexactlywhattookplace?”
“Ifyouplease,Mrs.Roger.”
“Myfather-in-lawlaidthewilldownonhisdeskandrequestedoneofus—Roger,Ithink—toringthebell.Rogerdidso.WhenJohnsoncameinanswertothebell,myfather-in-lawrequestedhimtofetchJanetWolmer,theparlourmaid.Whentheywereboththere,hesignedthewillandrequestedthemtosigntheirownnamesbeneathhissignature.”
“Thecorrectprocedure,”saidMr.Gaitskill.“Awillmustbesignedbythetestatorinthepresenceoftwowitnesseswhomustaffixtheirownsignaturesatthesametimeandplace.”
“Andafterthat?”askedTaverner.
“Myfather-in-lawthankedthem,andtheywentout.Myfather-in-lawpickedupthewill,putitinalongenvelopeandmentionedthathewouldsendittoMr.Gaitskillonthefollowingday.”
“Youallagree,”saidInspectorTaverner,lookinground,“thatthisisanaccurateaccountofwhathappened?”
Thereweremurmursofagreement.
“Thewillwasonthedesk,yousaid.Hownearwereanyofyoutothatdesk?”
“Notverynear.Fiveorsixyards,perhaps,wouldbethenearest.”
“WhenMr.Leonidesreadyouthewillwashehimselfsittingatthedesk?”
“Yes.”
“Didhegetup,orleavethedesk,afterreadingthewillandbeforesigningit?”
“No.”
“Couldtheservantsreadthedocumentwhentheysignedtheirnames?”
“No,”saidClemency.“Myfather-in-lawplacedasheetofpaperacrosstheupperpartofthedocument.”
“Quiteproperly,”saidPhilip.“Thecontentsofthewillwerenobusinessoftheservants.”
“Isee,”saidTaverner.“Atleast—Idon’tsee.”
Withabriskmovementheproducedalongenvelopeandleanedforwardtohandittothelawyer.
“Havealookatthat,”hesaid.“Andtellmewhatitis.”
Mr.Gaitskilldrewafoldeddocumentoutoftheenvelope.Helookedatitwithlivelyastonishment,turningitroundandroundinhishands.
“This,”hesaid,“issomewhatsurprising.Idonotunderstanditatall.Wherewasthis,ifImayask?”
“Inthesafe,amongstMr.Leonides’otherpapers.”
“Butwhatisit?”demandedRoger.“What’sallthefussabout?”
“ThisisthewillIpreparedforyourfather’ssignature,Roger—but—Ican’tunderstanditafterwhatyouhaveallsaid—itisnotsigned.”
“What?Well,Isupposeitisjustadraft.”
“No,”saidthelawyer.“Mr.Leonidesreturnedmetheoriginaldraft.Ithendrewupthewill—thiswill,”hetappeditwithhisfinger—“andsentittohimforsignature.Accordingtoyourevidencehesignedthewillinfrontofyouall—andtwowitnessesalsoappendedtheirsignatures—andyetthiswillisunsigned.”
“Butthat’simpossible,”exclaimedPhilipLeonides,speakingwithmoreanimationthanIhadyetheardfromhim.
Tavernerasked:“Howgoodwasyourfather’seyesight?”
“Hesufferedfromglaucoma.Heusedstrongglasses,ofcourse,forreading.”
“Hehadthoseglassesonthatevening?”
“Certainly.Hedidn’ttakehisglassesoffuntilafterhehadsigned.IthinkIamright.”
“Quiteright,”saidClemency.
“Andnobody—youareallsureofthat—wentnearthedeskbeforethesigningofthewill?”
“Iwondernow,”saidMagda,screwinguphereyes.“Ifonecouldonlyvisualizeitallagain.”
“Nobodywentnearthedesk,”saidSophia.“Andgrandfathersatatitallthetime.”
“Thedeskwasinthepositionitisnow?Itwasnotnearadoor,orawindow,oranydrapery?”
“Itwaswhereitisnow.”
“Iamtryingtoseehowasubstitutionofsomekindcouldbeeffected,”saidTaverner.“Somekindofsubstitutiontheremusthavebeen.Mr.Leonideswasundertheimpressionthathewassigningthedocumenthehadjustreadaloud.”
“Couldn’tthesignatureshavebeenerased?”Rogerdemanded.
“No,Mr.Leonides.Notwithoutleavingsignsoferasion.Thereisoneotherpossibility.ThatthisisnotthedocumentsenttoMr.LeonidesbyMr.Gaitskillandwhichhesignedinyourpresence.”
“Onthecontrary,”saidMr.Gaitskill.“Icouldsweartothisbeingtheoriginaldocument.Thereisasmallflawinthepaper—atthetopleft-handcorner—itresembles,byastretchoffancy,anaeroplane.Inoticeditatthetime.”
Thefamilylookedblanklyatoneanother.
“Amostcurioussetofcircumstances,”saidMr.Gaitskill.“Quitewithoutprecedentinmyexperience.”
“Thewholething’simpossible,”saidRoger.“Wewereallthere.Itsimplycouldn’thavehappened.”
MissdeHavilandgaveadrycough.
“Neveranygoodwastingbreathsayingsomethingthathashappenedcouldn’thavehappened,”sheremarked.“What’sthepositionnow?That’swhatI’dliketoknow.”
Gaitskillimmediatelybecamethecautiouslawyer.
“Thepositionwillhavetobeexaminedverycarefully,”hesaid.“Thisdocument,ofcourse,revokesallformerwillsandtestaments.TherearealargenumberofwitnesseswhosawMr.Leonidessignwhathecertainlybelievedtobethiswillinperfectlygoodfaith.Hum.Veryinteresting.Quitealittlelegalproblem.”
Tavernerglancedathiswatch.
“I’mafraid,”hesaid,“I’vebeenkeepingyoufromyourlunch.”
“Won’tyoustayandlunchwithus,Chief-Inspector?”askedPhilip.
“Thankyou,Mr.Leonides,butIammeetingDr.GrayinSwinlyDean.”
Philipturnedtothelawyer.
“You’lllunchwithus,Gaitskill?”
“Thankyou,Philip.”
Everybodystoodup.IedgedunobtrusivelytowardsSophia.
“DoIgoorstay?”Imurmured.ItsoundedridiculouslylikethetitleofaVictoriansong.
“Go,Ithink,”saidSophia.
IslippedquietlyoutoftheroominpursuitofTaverner.Josephinewasswingingtoandfroonabaizedoorleadingtothebackquarters.Sheappearedtobehighlyamusedaboutsomething.
“Thepolicearestupid,”sheobserved
Sophiacameoutofthedrawingroom.
“Whathaveyoubeendoing,Josephine?”
“HelpingNannie.”
“Ibelieveyou’vebeenlisteningoutsidethedoor.”
Josephinemadeafaceatherandretreated.
“Thatchild,”saidSophia,“isabitofaproblem.”
Eleven
I
IcameintotheAC’sroomattheYardtofindTavernerfinishingtherecitalofwhathadapparentlybeenataleofwoe
“Andthereyouare,”hewassaying.“I’veturnedthelotoftheminsideout—andwhatdoIget—nothingatall!Nomotives.Noneofthemhardup.Andallthatwe’vegotagainstthewifeandheryoungmanisthathemadesheep’seyesatherwhenshepouredhimouthiscoffee!”
“Come,come,Taverner,”Isaid.“Icandoalittlebetterthanthatforyou.”
“Youcan,canyou?Well,Mr.Charles,whatdidyouget?”
Isatdown,litacigarette,leanedbackandletthemhaveit.
“RogerLeonidesandhiswifewereplanningagetawayabroadnextTuesday.Rogerandhisfatherhadastormyinterviewonthedayoftheoldman’sdeath.OldLeonideshadfoundoutsomethingwaswrong,andRogerwasadmittingculpability.”
Tavernerwentpurpleintheface.
“Wherethehelldidyougetallthatfrom?”hedemanded.“Ifyougotitfromtheservants—”
“Ididn’tgetitfromtheservants.Igotit,”Isaid,“fromaprivateinquiryagent.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“AndImustsaythat,inaccordancewiththecanonsofthebestdetectivestories,he,orrathershe—orperhapsI’dbettersayit—haslickedthepolicehollow!
“Ialsothink,”Iwenton,“thatmyprivatedetectivehasafewmorethingsuphis,heroritssleeve.”
Taverneropenedhismouthandshutitagain.Hewantedtoasksomanyquestionsatoncethathefoundithardtobegin.
“Roger!”hesaid.“SoRoger’sawrong’un,ishe?”
IfeltaslightreluctanceasIunburdenedmyself.IhadlikedRogerLeonides.Rememberinghiscomfortable,friendlyroom,andtheman’sownfriendlycharm,Idislikedsettingthehoundsofjusticeonhistrack.Itwaspossible,ofcourse,thatallJosephine’sinformationwouldbeunreliable,butIdidnotreallythinkso.
“Sothekidtoldyou?”saidTaverner.“Sheseemstobewisetoeverythingthatgoesoninthathouse.”
“Childrenusuallyare,”saidmyfatherdrily.
Thisinformation,iftrue,alteredthewholeposition.IfRogerhadbeen,asJosephineconfidentlysuggested,“embezzling”thefundsofAssociatedCateringandiftheoldmanhadfounditout,itmighthavebeenvitaltosilenceoldLeonidesandtoleaveEnglandbeforethetruthcameout.PossiblyRogerhadrenderedhimselfliabletocriminalprosecution.
ItwasagreedthatinquiriesshouldbemadewithoutdelayintotheaffairsofAssociatedCatering.
“Itwillbeanalmightycrash,ifthatgoes,”myfatherremarked.“It’sahugeconcern.Therearemillionsinvolved.”
“Ifit’sreallyinQueerStreet,itgivesuswhatwewant,”saidTaverner.“FathersummonsRoger.Rogerbreaksdownandconfesses.BrendaLeonideswasoutatacinema.Rogerhasonlygottoleavehisfather’sroom,walkintothebathroom,emptyoutaninsulinphialandreplaceitwiththestrongsolutionofeserineandthereyouare.Orhiswifemayhavedoneit.Shewentovertotheotherwingaftershecamehomethatday—saysshewenttofetchapipeRogerhadleftthere.ButshecouldhavegoneovertoswitchthestuffbeforeBrendacamehomeandgavehimhisinjection.She’dbequitecoolandcapableaboutit.”
Inodded.“Yes,Ifancyherastheactualdoerofthedeed.She’scoolenoughforanything!AndIdon’treallythinkthatRogerLeonideswouldthinkofpoisonasameans—thattrickwiththeinsulinhassomethingfeminineaboutit.”
“Plentyofmenpoisoners,”saidmyfatherdrily.
“Oh,Iknow,sir,”saidTaverner.“Don’tIknow!”headdedwithfeeling.
“AllthesameIshouldn’thavesaidRogerwasthetype.”
“Pritchard,”theOldManremindedhim,“wasagoodmixer.”
“Let’ssaytheywereinittogether.”
“WiththeaccentonLadyMacbeth,”saidmyfather,asTavernerdeparted.“Isthathowshestrikesyou,Charles?”
Ivisualizedtheslight,gracefulfigurestandingbythewindowinthataustereroom.
“Notquite,”Isaid.“LadyMacbethwasessentiallyagreedywoman.Idon’tthinkClemencyLeonidesis.Idon’tthinkshewantsorcaresforpossessions.”
“Butshemightcare,desperately,aboutherhusband’ssafety?”
“That,yes.Andshecouldcertainlybe—well,ruthless.”
“Differentkindsofruthlessness…”ThatwaswhatSophiahadsaid.
IlookeduptoseetheOldManwatchingme.
“What’sinyourmind,Charles?”
ButIdidn’ttellhimthen.
II
IwassummonedonthefollowingdayandfoundTavernerandmyfathertogether.
Tavernerwaslookingpleasedwithhimselfandslightlyexcited.
“AssociatedCateringisontherocks,”saidmyfather.
“Duetocrashatanyminute,”saidTaverner.
“Isawtherehadbeenasharpfallintheshareslastnight,”Isaid.“Buttheyseemtohaverecoveredthismorning.”
“We’vehadtogoaboutitverycautiously,”saidTaverner.“Nodirectinquiries.Nothingtocauseapanic—ortoputthewindupourabscondinggentleman.Butwe’vegotcertainprivatesourcesofinformationandtheinformationisfairlydefinite.AssociatedCateringisonthevergeofacrash.Itcan’tpossiblymeetitscommitments.Thetruthseemstobethatit’sbeengrosslymismanagedforyears.”
“ByRogerLeonides?”
“Yes.He’shadsupremepower,youknow.”
“Andhe’shelpedhimselftomoney—”
“No,”saidTaverner.“Wedon’tthinkhehas.Toputitbluntly,hemaybeamurderer,butwedon’tthinkhe’saswindler.Quitefranklyhe’sjustbeen—afool.Hedoesn’tseemtohavehadanykindofjudgement.He’slaunchedoutwhereheoughttohaveheldin—he’shesitatedandretreatedwhereheoughttohavelaunchedout.He’sdelegatedpowertothelastsortofpeopleheoughttohavedelegateditto.He’satrustfulsortofchap,andhe’strustedthewrongpeople.Ateverytime,andoneveryoccasion,he’sdonethewrongthing.”
“Therearepeoplelikethat,”saidmyfather.“Andthey’renotreallystupideither.They’rebadjudgesofmen,that’sall.Andthey’reenthusiasticatthewrongtime.”
“Amanlikethatoughtn’ttobeinbusinessatall,”saidTaverner.
“Heprobablywouldn’tbe,”saidmyfather,“exceptfortheaccidentofbeingAristideLeonides’son.”
“Thatshowwasabsolutelybloomingwhentheoldmanhandeditovertohim.Itoughttohavebeenagoldmine!You’dthinkhecouldhavejustsatbackandlettheshowrunitself.”
“No,”myfathershookhishead.“Noshowrunsitself.Therearealwaysdecisionstobemade—amansackedhere—amanappointedthere—smallquestionsofpolicy.AndwithRogerLeonidestheanswerseemstohavebeenalwayswrong.”
“That’sright,”saidTaverner.“He’saloyalsortofchap,foronething.Hekeptonthemostfrightfulduds—justbecausehehadanaffectionforthem—orbecausethey’dbeentherealongtime.Andthenhesometimeshadwildimpracticalideasandinsistedontryingthemoutinspiteoftheenormousoutlayinvolved.”
“Butnothingcriminal?”myfatherinsisted.
“No,nothingcriminal.”
“Thenwhymurder?”Iasked.
“Hemayhavebeenafoolandnotaknave,”saidTaverner.“Buttheresultwasthesame—ornearlythesame.TheonlythingthatcouldsaveAssociatedCateringfromthesmashwasareallycolossalsumofmoneybynext”(heconsultedanotebook)“bynextWednesdayatthelatest.”
“Suchasumashewouldinherit,orthoughthewouldhaveinherited,underhisfather’swill?”
“Exactly.”
“Buthewouldn’tbeabletohavegotthatsumincash.”
“No.Buthe’dhavegotcredit.It’sthesamething.”
TheOldMannodded.
“Wouldn’tithavebeensimplertogotooldLeonidesandaskforhelp?”hesuggested.
“Ithinkhedid,”saidTaverner.“Ithinkthat’swhatthekidoverheard.Theoldboyrefusedpointblank,Ishouldimagine,tothrowgoodmoneyafterbad.Hewould,youknow.”
IthoughtthatTavernerwasrightthere.AristideLeonideshadrefusedthebackingforMagda’splay—hehadsaidthatitwouldnotbeaboxofficesuccess.Eventshadprovedhimcorrect.Hewasagenerousmantohisfamily,buthewasnotamantowastemoneyinunprofitableenterprises.AndAssociatedCateringrantothousands,orprobablyhundredsofthousands.Hehadrefusedpointblank,andtheonlywayforRogertoavoidfinancialruinwasforhisfathertodie.
Yes,therewascertainlyamotivethereallright.
Myfatherlookedathiswatch.
“I’veaskedhimtocomehere,”hesaid.“He’llbehereanyminutenow.”
“Roger?”
“Yes.”
“Willyouwalkintomyparlour,saidthespidertothefly?”Imurmured.
Tavernerlookedatmeinashockedway.
“Weshallgivehimallthepropercautions,”hesaidseverely.
Thestagewasset,theshorthandwriterestablished.Presentlythebuzzersounded,andafewminuteslaterRogerLeonidesenteredtheroom.
Hecameineagerly—andratherclumsily—hestumbledoverachair.Iwasremindedasbeforeofalargefriendlydog.AtthesametimeIdecidedquitedefinitelythatitwasnothewhohadcarriedouttheactualprocessoftransferringeserinetoaninsulinbottle.Hewouldhavebrokenit,spilledit,ormuffedtheoperationinsomewayortheother.
Wordsrushedfromhim.
“Youwantedtoseeme?You’vefoundoutsomething?Hallo,Charles.Ididn’tseeyou.Niceofyoutocomealong.Butpleasetellme,SirArthur—”
Suchanicefellow—reallysuchanicefellow.Butlotsofmurderershadbeennicefellows—sotheirastonishedfriendshadsaidafterwards.FeelingratherlikeJudas,Ismiledagreeting.
Myfatherwasdeliberate,coldlyofficial.Theglibphraseswereuttered.Statement…takendown…nocompulsion…solicitor….
RogerLeonidesbrushedthemallasidewiththesamecharacteristiceagerimpatience.
IsawthefaintsardonicsmileonChief-InspectorTaverner’sface,andreadfromitthethoughtinhismind.
“Alwayssureofthemselves,thesechaps.Theycan’tmakeamistake.They’refartooclever!”
Isatdownunobtrusivelyinacornerandlistened.
“Ihaveaskedyoutocomehere,Mr.Leonides,”myfathersaid,“nottogiveyoufreshinformation,buttoaskforsomeinformationfromyou—informationthatyouhavepreviouslywithheld.”
RogerLeonideslookedbewildered.
“Withheld?ButI’vetoldyoueverything—absolutelyeverything!”
“Ithinknot.Youhadaconversationwiththedeceasedontheafternoonofhisdeath?”
“Yes,yes,Ihadteawithhim.Itoldyouso.”
“Youtoldusthat,yes,butyoudidnottellusaboutyourconversation.”
“We—just—talked.”
“Whatabout?”
“Dailyhappenings,thehouse,Sophia—”
“WhataboutAssociatedCatering?Wasthatmentioned?”
IthinkIhadhopeduptothenthatJosephinehadbeeninventingthewholestory;butifso,thathopewasquicklyquenched.
Roger’sfacechanged.Itchangedinamomentfromeagernesstosomethingthatwasrecognizablyclosetodespair.
“Oh,myGod,”hesaid.Hedroppedintoachairandburiedhisfaceinhishands.
Tavernersmiledlikeacontentedcat.
“Youadmit,Mr.Leonides,thatyouhavenotbeenfrankwithus?”
“Howdidyougettoknowaboutthat?Ithoughtnobodyknew—Idon’tseehowanybodycouldknow.”
“Wehavemeansoffindingoutthesethings,Mr.Leonides.”Therewasamajesticpause.“Ithinkyouwillseenowthatyouhadbettertellusthetruth.”
“Yes,yes,ofcourse.I’lltellyou.Whatdoyouwanttoknow?”
“IsittruethatAssociatedCateringisonthevergeofcollapse?”
“Yes.Itcan’tbestavedoffnow.Thecrashisboundtocome.Ifonlymyfathercouldhavediedwithouteverknowing.Ifeelsoashamed—sodisgraced—”
“Thereisapossibilityofcriminalprosecution?”
Rogersatupsharply.
“No,indeed.Itwillbebankruptcy—butanhonourablebankruptcy.CreditorswillbepaidtwentyshillingsinthepoundifIthrowinmypersonalassets,whichIshalldo.No,thedisgraceIfeelistohavefailedmyfather.Hetrustedme.Hemadeovertomethis,hislargestconcern—andhispetconcern.Heneverinterfered,heneveraskedwhatIwasdoing.Hejust—trustedme…AndIlethimdown.”
Myfathersaiddrily:
“Yousaytherewasnolikelihoodofcriminalprosecution?Whythenhadyouandyourwifeplannedtogoabroadwithouttellinganybodyofyourintention?”
“Youknowthattoo?”
“Yes,Mr.Leonides.”
“Butdon’tyousee?”Heleanedforwardeagerly.“Icouldn’tfacehimwiththetruth.Itwouldhavelooked,yousee,asifIwasaskingformoney.AsthoughIwantedhimtosetmeonmyfeetagain.He—hewasveryfondofme.Hewouldhavewantedtohelp.ButIcouldn’t—Icouldn’tgoon—itwouldhavemeantmakingamessofthingsalloveragain—I’mnogood.Ihaven’tgottheability.I’mnotthemanmyfatherwas.I’vealwaysknownit.I’vetried.Butit’snogood.I’vebeensomiserable—God!youdon’tknowhowmiserableI’vebeen!Tryingtogetoutofthemuddle,hopingI’djustgetsquare,hopingthedearoldmanwouldneverneedtohearaboutit.Andthenitcame—nomorehopeofavoidingthecrash.Clemency—mywife—sheunderstood,sheagreedwithme.Wethoughtoutthisplan.Saynothingtoanyone.Goaway.Andthenletthestormbreak.I’dleavealetterformyfather,tellinghimallaboutit—tellinghimhowashamedIwasandbegginghimtoforgiveme.He’sbeensogoodtomealways—youdon’tknow!Butitwouldbetoolatethenforhimtodoanything.That’swhatIwanted.Nottoaskhim—oreventoseemtoaskhimforhelp.Startagainonmyownsomewhere.Livesimplyandhumbly.Growthings.Coffee—fruit.Justhavethebarenecessitiesoflife—hardonClemency,butshesworeshedidn’tmind.She’swonderful—absolutelywonderful.”
“Isee.”Myfather’svoicewasdry.“Andwhatmadeyouchangeyourmind?”
“Changemymind?”
“Yes.Whatmadeyoudecidetogotoyourfatherandaskforfinancialhelpafterall?”
Rogerstaredathim.
“ButIdidn’t!”
“Comenow,Mr.Leonides.”
“You’vegotitallwrong.Ididn’tgotohim.Hesentforme.He’dheard,somehow,intheCity.Arumour,Isuppose.Buthealwaysknewthings.Someonehadtoldhim.Hetackledmewithit.Then,ofcourse,Ibrokedown…Itoldhimeverything.Isaiditwasn’tsomuchthemoney—itwasthefeelingI’dlethimdownafterhe’dtrustedme.”
Rogerswallowedconvulsively.
“Thedearoldman,”hesaid.“Youcan’timaginehowgoodhewastome.Noreproaches.Justkindness.ItoldhimIdidn’twanthelp,thatIpreferrednottohaveit—thatI’drathergoawayasI’dplannedtodo.Buthewouldn’tlisten.Heinsistedoncomingtotherescue—onputtingAssociatedCateringonitslegsagain.”
Tavernersaidsharply:
“Youareaskingustobelievethatyourfatherintendedtocometoyourassistancefinancially?”
“Certainlyhedid.Hewrotetohisbrokersthenandthere,givingtheminstructions.”
Isupposehesawtheincredulityonthetwomen’sfaces.Heflushed.
“Lookhere,”hesaid,“I’vestillgottheletter.Iwastopostit.Butofcourselater—with—withtheshockandconfusion,Iforgot.I’veprobablygotitinmypocketnow.”
Hedrewouthiswalletandstartedhuntingthroughit.Finallyhefoundwhathewanted.Itwasacreasedenvelopewithastamponit.Itwasaddressed,asIsawbyleaningforward,toMessrsGreatorexandHanbury.
“Readitforyourselves,”hesaid,“ifyoudon’tbelieveme.”
Myfathertoreopentheletter.Tavernerwentroundbehindhim.Ididnotseetheletterthen,butIsawitlater.ItinstructedMessrsGreatorexandHanburytorealizecertaininvestmentsandaskedforamemberofthefirmtobesentdownonthefollowingdaytotakecertaininstructionsretheaffairsofAssociatedCatering.Someofitwasunintelligibletome,butitspurposewasclearenough.AristideLeonideswaspreparingtoputAssociatedCateringonitsfeetagain.
Tavernersaid:
“Wewillgiveyouareceiptforthis,Mr.Leonides.”
Rogertookthereceipt.Hegotupandsaid:
“Isthatall?Youdoseehowitallwas,don’tyou?”
Tavernersaid:
“Mr.Leonidesgaveyouthisletterandthenyoulefthim?Whatdidyoudonext?”
“Irushedbacktomyownpartofthehouse.Mywifehadjustcomein.Itoldherwhatmyfatherproposedtodo.Howwonderfulhehadbeen!I—really,IhardlyknewwhatIwasdoing.”
“Andyourfatherwastakenill—howlongafterthat?”
“Letmesee—halfanhour,perhaps,oranhour.Brendacamerushingin.Shewasfrightened.Shesaidhelookedqueer.I—Irushedoverwithher.ButI’vetoldyouallthisbefore.”
“Duringyourformervisit,didyougointothebathroomadjoiningyourfather’sroomatall?”
“Idon’tthinkso.No—no,IamsureIdidn’t.Why,youcan’tpossiblythinkthatI—”
Myfatherquelledthesuddenindignation.Hegotupandshookhands.
“Thankyou,Mr.Leonides,”hesaid.“Youhavebeenveryhelpful.Butyoushouldhavetoldusallthisbefore.”
ThedoorclosedbehindRoger.Igotupandcametolookattheletterlyingonmyfather’stable.
“Itcouldbeaforgery,”saidTavernerhopefully
“Itcouldbe,”saidmyfather,“butIdon’tthinkitis.Ithinkwe’llhavetoacceptitexactlyasitstands.OldLeonideswaspreparedtogethissonoutofthismess.ItcouldhavebeendonemoreefficientlybyhimalivethanitcouldbyRogerafterhisdeath—especiallyasitnowtranspiresthatnowillistobefoundandthatinconsequenceRoger’sactualamountofinheritanceisopentoquestion.Thatmeansdelays—anddifficulties.Asthingsnowstand,thecrashisboundtocome.No,Taverner,RogerLeonidesandhiswifehadnomotiveforgettingtheoldmanoutoftheway.Onthecontrary—”
Hestoppedandrepeatedthoughtfullyasthoughasuddenthoughthadoccurredtohim:“Onthecontrary….”
“What’sonyourmind,sir?”Tavernerasked.
TheOldMansaidslowly:
“IfAristideLeonideshadlivedonlyanothertwenty-fourhours,Rogerwouldhavebeenallright.Buthedidn’tlivetwenty-fourhours.Hediedsuddenlyanddramaticallywithinlittlemorethananhour.”
“H’m,”saidTaverner.“DoyouthinksomebodyinthehousewantedRogertogobroke?Someonewhohadanopposingfinancialinterest?Doesn’tseemlikely.”
“What’sthepositionasregardsthewill?”myfatherasked.“WhoactuallygetsoldLeonides’money?”
Tavernerheavedanexasperatedsigh.
“Youknowwhatlawyersare.Can’tgetastraightansweroutofthem.There’saformerwill.MadewhenhemarriedthesecondMrs.Leonides.Thatleavesthesamesumtoher,ratherlesstoMissdeHaviland,andtheremainderbetweenPhilipandRoger.Ishouldhavethoughtthatifthiswillisn’tsigned,thentheoldonewouldoperate,butitseemsitisn’tsosimpleasthat.Firstthemakingofthenewwillrevokedtheformeroneandtherearewitnessestothesigningofit,andthe‘testator’sintention.’Itseemstobeatoss-upifitturnsoutthathediedintestate.Thenthewidowapparentlygetsthelot—oralifeinterestatanyrate.”
“Soifthewill’sdisappearedBrendaLeonidesisthemostlikelypersontoprofitbyit?”
“Yes.Ifthere’sbeenanyhocus-pocus,itseemsprobablethatshe’satthebottomofit.Andthereobviouslyhasbeenhocus-pocus,butI’mdashedifIseehowitwasdone.”
Ididn’tsee,either.Isupposewewerereallyincrediblystupid.Butwewerelookingatit,ofcourse,fromthewrongangle.
Twelve
TherewasashortsilenceafterTavernerhadgoneout.
ThenIsaid:
“Dad,whataremurdererslike?”
TheOldManlookedatmethoughtfully.WeunderstandeachothersowellthatheknewexactlywhatwasinmymindwhenIputthatquestion.Andheanswereditveryseriously.
“Yes,”hesaid.“That’simportantnow—veryimportant,foryou…Murder’scomeclosetoyou.Youcan’tgoonlookingatitfromtheoutside.”
Ihadalwaysbeeninterested,inanamateurishkindofway,insomeofthemorespectacular“cases”withwhichtheCIDhaddealt,but,asmyfathersaid,Ihadbeeninterestedfromtheoutside—lookingin,asitwere,throughtheshopwindow.Butnow,asSophiahadseenmuchmorequicklythanIdid,murderhadbecomeadominantfactorinmylife.
TheOldManwenton:
“Idon’tknowifI’mtherightpersontoask.Icouldputyouontoacoupleofthetamepsychiatristswhodojobsforus.They’vegotitallcutanddried.OrTavernercouldgiveyoualltheinsidedope.Butyouwant,Itakeit,tohearwhatI,personally,astheresultofmyexperienceofcriminals,thinkaboutit?”
“That’swhatIwant,”Isaidgratefully.
Myfathertracedalittlecirclewithhisfingeronthedesktop.
“Whataremurdererslike?Someofthem”—afaintrathermelancholysmileshowedonhisface—“havebeenthoroughlynicechaps.”
IthinkIlookedalittlestartled.
“Ohyes,theyhave,”hesaid.“Niceordinaryfellowslikeyouandme—orlikethatchapwhowentoutjustnow—RogerLeonides.Murder,yousee,isanamateurcrime.I’mspeakingofcourseofthekindofmurderyouhaveinmind—notgangsterstuff.Onefeels,veryoften,asthoughtheseniceordinarychapshadbeenovertaken,asitwere,bymurder,almostaccidentally.They’vebeeninatightplace,orthey’vewantedsomethingverybadly,moneyorawoman—andthey’vekilledtogetit.Thebrakethatoperateswithmostofusdoesn’toperatewiththem.Achild,youknow,translatesdesireintoactionwithoutcompunction.Achildisangrywithitskitten,says‘I’llkillyou,’andhitsitontheheadwithahammer—andthenbreaksitsheartbecausethekittendoesn’tcomealiveagain!Lotsofkidstrytotakeababyoutofapramand‘drownit,’becauseitusurpsattention—orinterfereswiththeirpleasures.Theyget—veryearly—toastagewhentheyknowthatthatis‘wrong’—thatis,thatitwillbepunished.Later,theygettofeelthatitiswrong.Butsomepeople,Isuspect,remainmorallyimmature.Theycontinuetobeawarethatmurderiswrong,buttheydonotfeelit.Idon’tthink,inmyexperience,thatanymurdererhasreallyfeltremorse…Andthat,perhaps,isthemarkofCain.Murderersaresetapart,theyare‘different’—murderiswrong—butnotforthem—forthemitisnecessary—thevictimhas‘askedforit,’itwas‘theonlyway.’”
“Doyouthink,”Iasked,“thatifsomeonehatedoldLeonides,hadhatedhim,say,foraverylongtime,thatthatwouldbeareason?”
“Purehate?Veryunlikely,Ishouldsay.”Myfatherlookedatmecuriously.“Whenyousayhate,Ipresumeyoumeandislikecarriedtoexcess.Ajealoushateisdifferent—thatrisesoutofaffectionandfrustration.ConstanceKent,everybodysaid,wasveryfondofthebabybrothershekilled.Butshewanted,onesupposes,theattentionandthelovethatwasbestowedonhim.Ithinkpeoplemoreoftenkillthosetheylovethanthosetheyhate.Possiblybecauseonlythepeopleyoulovecanreallymakelifeunendurabletoyou.
“Butallthisdoesn’thelpyoumuch,doesit?”hewenton.“Whatyouwant,ifIreadyoucorrectly,issometoken,someuniversalsignthatwillhelpyoutopickoutamurdererfromahouseholdofapparentlynormalandpleasantpeople?”
“Yes,that’sit.”
“Isthereacommondenominator?Iwonder.Youknow,”hepausedinthought,“ifthereis,Ishouldbeinclinedtosayitisvanity.”
“Vanity?”
“Yes,I’venevermetamurdererwhowasn’tvain…It’stheirvanitythatleadstotheirundoing,ninetimesoutoften.Theymaybefrightenedofbeingcaught,buttheycan’thelpstruttingandboastingandusuallythey’resurethey’vebeenfartooclevertobecaught.”Headded:“Andhere’sanotherthing,amurdererwantstotalk.”
“Totalk?”
“Yes;yousee,havingcommittedamurderputsyouinapositionofgreatloneliness.You’dliketotellsomebodyallaboutit—andyounevercan.Andthatmakesyouwanttoallthemore.Andso—ifyoucan’ttalkabouthowyoudidit,youcanatleasttalkaboutthemurderitself—discussit,advancetheories—gooverit.
“IfIwereyou,Charles,Ishouldlookoutforthat.Godownthereagain,mixwiththemall,andgetthemtotalk.Ofcourseitwon’tbeplainsailing.Guiltyorinnocent,they’llbegladofthechancetotalktoastranger,becausetheycansaythingstoyouthattheycouldn’tsaytoeachother.Butit’spossible,Ithink,thatyoumightspotadifference.Apersonwhohassomethingtohidecan’treallyaffordtotalkatall.TheblokeknewthatinIntelligenceduringthewar.Ifyouwerecaptured,yourname,rank,andnumber,butnothingmore.Peoplewhoattempttogivefalseinformationnearlyalwaysslipup.Getthathouseholdtalking,Charles,andwatchoutforasliporforsomeflashofself-revelation.”
ItoldhimthenwhatSophiahadsaidabouttheruthlessnessinthefamily—thedifferentkindsofruthlessness.Hewasinterested.
“Yes,”hesaid.“Youryoungwomanhasgotsomethingthere.Mostfamilieshavegotadefect,achinkintheirarmour.Mostpeoplecandealwithoneweakness—buttheymightn’tbeabletodealwithtwoweaknessesofadifferentkind.Interestingthing,heredity.TakethedeHavilandruthlessness,andwhatwemightcalltheLeonidesunscrupulousness—thedeHavilandsareallrightbecausethey’renotunscrupulous,andtheLeonidesareallrightbecause,thoughunscrupulous,theyarekindly—butgetadescendantwhoinheritedbothofthosetraits—seewhatImean?”
Ihadnotthoughtofitquiteinthoseterms.Myfathersaid:
“ButIshouldn’tworryyourheadaboutheredity.It’smuchtootrickyandcomplicatedasubject.No,myboy,godownthereandletthemtalktoyou.YourSophiaisquiterightaboutonething.Nothingbutthetruthisgoingtobeanygoodtoherortoyou.You’vegottoknow.”
HeaddedasIwentoutoftheroom:
“Andbecarefulofthechild.”
“Josephine?Youmeandon’tletontoherwhatI’mupto.”
“No,Ididn’tmeanthat.Imeant—lookafterher.Wedon’twantanythingtohappentoher.”
Istaredathim.
“Come,come,Charles.There’sacold-bloodedkillersomewhereinthathousehold.ThechildJosephineappearstoknowmostofwhatgoeson.”
“ShecertainlyknewallaboutRoger—evenifshedidleaptotheconclusionthathewasaswindler.Heraccountofwhatsheoverheardseemstohavebeenquiteaccurate.”
“Yes,yes.Child’sevidenceisalwaysthebestevidencethereis.I’drelyoniteverytime.Nogoodincourt,ofcourse.Childrencan’tstandbeingaskeddirectquestions.Theymumbleorelselookidioticandsaytheydon’tknow.They’reattheirbestwhenthey’reshowingoff.That’swhatthechildwasdoingtoyou.Showingoff.You’llgetmoreoutofherinthesameway.Don’tgoaskingherquestions.Pretendyouthinkshedoesn’tknowanything.That’llfetchher.”
Headded:
“Buttakecareofher.Shemayknowalittletoomuchforsomebody’ssafety.”
Thirteen
IwentdowntotheCrookedHouse(asIcalleditinmyownmind)withaslightlyguiltyfeeling.ThoughIhadrepeatedtoTavernerJosephine’sconfidencesaboutRoger,IhadsaidnothingaboutherstatementthatBrendaandLaurenceBrownwroteloveletterstoeachother.
Iexcusedmyselfbypretendingthatitwasmereromancing,andthattherewasnoreasontobelievethatitwastrue.ButactuallyIhadfeltastrangereluctancetopileupadditionalevidenceagainstBrendaLeonides.Ihadbeenaffectedbythepathosofherpositioninthehouse—surroundedbyahostilefamilyunitedsolidlyagainsther.IfsuchlettersexisteddoubtlessTavernerandhismyrmidonswouldfindthem.Idislikedtobethemeansofbringingfreshsuspiciononawomaninadifficultposition.Moreover,shehadassuredmesolemnlythattherewasnothingofthatkindbetweenherandLaurenceandIfeltmoreinclinedtobelieveherthantobelievethatmaliciousgnomeJosephine.HadnotBrendasaidherselfthatJosephinewas“notallthere?”
IstifledanuneasycertaintythatJosephinewasverymuchallthere.Irememberedtheintelligenceofherbeadyblackeyes.
IhadrungupSophiaandaskedifImightcomedownagain.
“Pleasedo,Charles.”
“Howarethingsgoing?”
“Idon’tknow.Allright.Theykeeponsearchingthehouse.Whataretheylookingfor?”
“I’venoidea.”
“We’reallgettingverynervy.Comeassoonasyoucan.IshallgocrazyifIcan’ttalktosomeone.”
IsaidIwouldcomedownstraightaway.
TherewasnooneinsightasIdroveuptothefrontdoor.Ipaidthetaxianditdroveaway.Ifeltuncertainwhethertoringthebellortowalkin.Thefrontdoorwasopen.
AsIstoodthere,hesitating,Iheardaslightsoundbehindme.Iturnedmyheadsharply.Josephine,herfacepartiallyobscuredbyaverylargeapple,wasstandingintheopeningoftheyewhedgelookingatme.
AsIturnedmyhead,sheturnedaway.
“Hallo,Josephine.”
Shedidnotanswer,butdisappearedbehindthehedge.Icrossedthedriveandfollowedher.Shewasseatedontheuncomfortablerusticbenchbythegoldfishpondswingingherlegstoandfroandbitingintoherapple.AboveitsrosycircumferencehereyesregardedmesombrelyandwithwhatIcouldnotbutfeelwashostility.
“I’vecomedownagain,Josephine,”Isaid.
Itwasafeebleopening,butIfoundJosephine’ssilenceandherunblinkinggazeratherunnerving.
Withexcellentstrategicsense,shestilldidnotreply.
“Isthatagoodapple?”Iasked.
ThistimeJosephinedidcondescendtoreply.Herreplyconsistedofoneword.
“Woolly.”
“Apity,”Isaid.“Idon’tlikewoollyapples.”
Josephinerepliedscornfully:
“Nobodydoes.”
“Whywouldn’tyouspeaktomewhenIsaidhallo?”
“Ididn’twantto.”
“Whynot?”
Josephineremovedtheapplefromherfacetoassistintheclearnessofherdenunciation.
“Youwentandsneakedtothepolice,”shesaid.
“Oh!”Iwasrathertakenaback.“Youmean—about—”
“AboutUncleRoger.”
“Butit’sallright,Josephine,”Iassuredher.“Quiteallright.Theyknowhedidn’tdoanythingwrong—Imean,hehadn’tembezzledanymoneyoranythingofthatkind.”
Josephinethrewmeanexasperatedglance.
“Howstupidyouare.”
“I’msorry.”
“Iwasn’tworryingaboutUncleRoger.It’ssimplythatthat’snotthewaytododetectivework.Don’tyouknowthatyounevertellthepoliceuntiltheveryend?”
“Oh,Isee,”Isaid.“I’msorry,Josephine.I’mreallyverysorry.”
“Soyoushouldbe.”Sheaddedreproachfully:“Itrustedyou.”
IsaidIwassorryforthethirdtime.Josephineappearedalittlemollified.Shetookanothercoupleofbitesofapple.
“Butthepolicewouldhavebeenboundtofindoutaboutallthis,”Isaid.“You—I—wecouldn’thavekeptitasecret.”
“Youmeanbecausehe’sgoingbankrupt?”
AsusualJosephinewaswellinformed.
“Isupposeitwillcometothat.”
“They’regoingtotalkaboutittonight,”saidJosephine.“FatherandMotherandUncleRogerandAuntEdith.AuntEdithwouldgivehimhermoney—onlyshehasn’tgotityet—butIdon’tthinkfatherwill.HesaysifRogerhasgotinajamhe’sonlygothimselftoblameandwhat’sthegoodofthrowinggoodmoneyafterbad,andMotherwon’thearofgivinghimanybecauseshewantsFathertoputupthemoneyforEdithThompson.DoyouknowaboutEdithThompson?Shewasmarried,butshedidn’tlikeherhusband.ShewasinlovewithayoungmancalledBywaterswhocameoffashipandhewentdownadifferentstreetafterthetheatreandstabbedhimintheback.”
ImarvelledoncemoreattherangeandcompletenessofJosephine’sknowledge;andalsoatthedramaticsensewhich,onlyslightlyobscuredbyhazypronouns,hadpresentedallthesalientfactsinanutshell.
“Itsoundsallright,”saidJosephine,“butIdon’tsupposetheplaywillbelikethatatall.ItwillbelikeJezebelagain.”Shesighed.“IwishIknewwhythedogswouldn’teatthepalmsofherhands.”
“Josephine,”Isaid.“Youtoldmethatyouwerealmostsurewhothemurdererwas?”
“Well?”
“Whoisit?”
Shegavemealookofscorn.
“Isee,”Isaid.“Nottillthelastchapter?NotevenifIpromisenottotellInspectorTaverner?”
“Iwantjustafewmoreclues,”saidJosephine.
“Anyway,”sheadded,throwingthecoreoftheappleintothegoldfishpool,“Iwouldn’ttellyou.Ifyou’reanyone,you’reWatson.”
Istomachedthisinsult.
“OK,”Isaid.“I’mWatson.ButevenWatsonwasgiventhedata.”
“Thewhat?”
“Thefacts.Andthenhemadethewrongdeductionsfromthem.Wouldn’titbealotoffunforyoutoseememakingthewrongdeductions?”
ForamomentJosephinewastempted.Thensheshookherhead.
“No,”shesaid,andadded:“Anyway,I’mnotverykeenonSherlockHolmes.It’sawfullyold-fashioned.Theydriveaboutindogcarts.”
“Whataboutthoseletters?”Iasked.
“Whatletters?”
“ThelettersyousaidLaurenceBrownandBrendawrotetoeachother.”
“Imadethatup,”saidJosephine.
“Idon’tbelieveyou.”
“Yes,Idid.Ioftenmakethingsup.Itamusesme.”
Istaredather.Shestaredback.
“Lookhere,Josephine.IknowamanattheBritishMuseumwhoknowsalotabouttheBible.IfIfindoutfromhimwhythedogsdidn’teatthepalmsofJezebel’shands,willyoutellmeaboutthoseletters?”
ThistimeJosephinereallyhesitated.
Somewhere,notveryfaraway,atwigsnappedwithasharpcrackingnoise.Josephinesaidflatly:
“No,Iwon’t.”
Iaccepteddefeat.Ratherlateintheday,Irememberedmyfather’sadvice.
“Ohwell,”Isaid,“it’sonlyagame.Ofcourseyoudon’treallyknowanything.”
Josephine’seyessnapped,butsheresistedthebait.
Igotup.“Imustgoinnow,”Isaid,“andfindSophia.Comealong.”
“Ishallstophere,”saidJosephine.
“No,youwon’t,”Isaid.“You’recominginwithme.”
UnceremoniouslyIyankedhertoherfeet.Sheseemedsurprisedandinclinedtoprotest,butyieldedwithafairlygoodgrace—partly,nodoubt,becauseshewishedtoobservethereactionsofthehouseholdtomypresence.
WhyIwassoanxiousforhertoaccompanymeIcouldnotatthatmomenthavesaid.Itonlycametomeaswewerepassingthroughthefrontdoor.
Itwasbecauseofthesuddensnappingofatwig.
Fourteen
Therewasamurmurofvoicesfromthebigdrawingroom.Ihesitatedbutdidnotgoin.Iwandereddownthepassageand,ledbysomeimpulse,Ipushedopenabaizedoor.Thepassagebeyondwasdark,butsuddenlyadooropenedshowingabiglightedkitchen.Inthedoorwaystoodanoldwoman—aratherbulkyoldwoman.ShehadaverycleanwhiteaprontiedroundheramplewaistandthemomentIsawherIknewthateverythingwasallright.ItisthefeelingthatagoodNanniecanalwaysgiveyou.Iamthirty-five,butIfeltjustlikeareassuredlittleboyoffour.
AsfarasIknew,Nanniehadneverseenme,butshesaidatonce:
“It’sMr.Charles,isn’tit?Comeintothekitchenandletmegiveyouacupoftea.”
Itwasabighappy-feelingkitchen.IsatdownbythecentretableandNanniebroughtmeacupofteaandtwosweetbiscuitsonaplate.IfeltmorethaneverthatIwasinthenurseryagain.Everythingwasallright—andtheterrorsofthedarkandtheunknownwerenomorewithme.
“MissSophiawillbegladyou’vecome,”saidNannie.“She’sbeengettingratheroverexcited.”Sheaddeddisapprovingly:“They’realloverexcited.”
Ilookedovermyshoulder.
“Where’sJosephine?Shecameinwithme.”
Nanniemadeadisapprovingclackingnoisewithhertongue.
“Listeningatdoorsandwritingdownthingsinthatsillylittlebookshecarriesaboutwithher,”shesaid.“Sheoughttohavegonetoschoolandhadchildrenofherownagetoplaywith.I’vesaidsotoMissEdithandsheagrees—butthemasterwouldhaveitthatshewasbesthereinherhome.”
“Isupposehe’sveryfondofher,”Isaid.
“Hewas,sir.Hewasfondofthemall.”
Ilookedslightlyastonished,wonderingwhyPhilip’saffectionforhisoffspringwasputsodefinitelyinthepast.Nanniesawmyexpressionandflushingslightly,shesaid:
“WhenIsaidthemaster,itwasoldMr.LeonidesImeant.”
BeforeIcouldrespondtothat,thedooropenedwitharushandSophiacamein
“Oh,Charles,”shesaid,andthenquickly:“Oh,Nannie,I’msogladhe’scome.”
“Iknowyouare,love.”
Nanniegatheredupalotofpotsandpansandwentoffintoascullerywiththem.Sheshutthedoorbehindher.
IgotupfromthetableandwentovertoSophia.Iputmyarmsroundherandheldhertome.
“Dearest,”Isaid.“You’retrembling.Whatisit?”
Sophiasaid:
“I’mfrightened,Charles.I’mfrightened.”
“Iloveyou,”Isaid.“IfIcouldtakeyouaway—”
Shedrewapartandshookherhead.
“No,that’simpossible.We’vegottoseethisthrough.Butyouknow,Charles,Idon’tlikeit.Idon’tlikethefeelingthatsomeone—someoneinthishouse—someoneIseeandspeaktoeverydayisacold-blooded,calculatingpoisoner….”
AndIdidn’tknowhowtoanswerthat.TosomeonelikeSophiaonecangivenoeasymeaninglessreassurances.
Shesaid:“Ifonlyoneknew—”
“Thatmustbetheworstofit,”Iagreed.
“Youknowwhatreallyfrightensme?”shewhispered.“It’sthatwemayneverknow….”
Icouldvisualizeeasilywhatanightmarethatwouldbe…AnditseemedtomehighlyprobablethatitnevermightbeknownwhohadkilledoldLeonides.
ButitalsoremindedmeofaquestionIhadmeanttoputtoSophiaonapointthathadinterestedme.
“Tellme,Sophia,”Isaid.“Howmanypeopleinthishouseknewabouttheeserineeyedrops—Imean(a)thatyourgrandfatherhadthem,and(b)thattheywerepoisonousandwhatwouldbeafataldose?”
“Iseewhatyou’regettingat,Charles.Butitwon’twork.Yousee,weallknew.”
“Well,yes,vaguely,Isuppose,butspecifically—”
“Weknewspecifically.Wewereallupwithgrandfatheronedayforcoffeeafterlunch.Helikedallthefamilyroundhim,youknow.Andhiseyeshadbeengivinghimalotoftrouble.AndBrendagottheeserinetoputadropineacheye,andJosephine,whoalwaysasksquestionsabouteverything,said:‘Whydoesitsay“Eyedrops—nottobetaken”onthebottle?’Andgrandfathersmiledandsaid:‘IfBrendaweretomakeamistakeandinjecteyedropsintomeonedayinsteadofinsulin—IsuspectIshouldgiveabiggasp,andgoratherblueinthefaceandthendie,becauseyousee,myheartisn’tverystrong.’AndJosephinesaid:‘Oo,’andgrandfatherwenton:‘SowemustbecarefulthatBrendadoesnotgivemeaninjectionofeserineinsteadofinsulin,mustn’twe?’”Sophiapausedandthensaid:“Wewerealltherelistening.Yousee?Weallheard!”
Ididsee.Ihadsomefaintideainmymindthatjustalittlespecializedknowledgewouldhavebeenneeded.ButnowitwasborneinuponmethatoldLeonideshadactuallysuppliedtheblueprintforhisownmurder.Themurdererhadnothadtothinkoutascheme,ortoplanordeviseanything.Asimpleeasymethodofcausingdeathhadbeensuppliedbythevictimhimself.
Idrewadeepbreath.Sophia,catchingmythought,said:“Yes,it’sratherhorrible,isn’tit?”
“Youknow,Sophia,”Isaidslowly.“There’sjustonethingdoesstrikeme.”
“Yes?”
“Thatyou’reright,andthatitcouldn’thavebeenBrenda.Shecouldn’tdoitexactlythatway—whenyou’dalllistened—whenyou’dallremember.”
“Idon’tknowaboutthat.Sheisratherdumbinsomeways,youknow.”
“Notasdumbasallthat,”Isaid.“No,itcouldn’thavebeenBrenda.”
Sophiamovedawayfromme.
“Youdon’twantittobeBrenda,doyou?”sheasked.
AndwhatcouldIsay?Icouldn’t—no,Icouldn’t—sayflatly:“Yes,IhopeitisBrenda.”
Whycouldn’tI?JustthefeelingthatBrendawasallaloneononeside,andtheconcentratedanimosityofthepowerfulLeonidesfamilywasarrayedagainstherontheotherside.Chivalry?Afeelingfortheweaker?Forthedefenceless?Irememberedhersittingonthesofainherexpensiverichmourning,thehopelessnessinhervoice—thefearinher
Nanniecamebackratheropportunelyfromthescullery.Idon’tknowwhethershesensedacertainstrainbetweenmyselfandSophia.
Shesaiddisapprovingly:
“Talkingmurdersandsuchlike.Forgetaboutit,that’swhatIsay.Leaveittothepolice.It’stheirnastybusiness,notyours.”
“Oh,Nannie—don’tyourealizethatsomeoneinthishouseisamurderer—”
“Nonsense,MissSophia,I’venopatiencewithyou.Isn’tthefrontdooropenallthetime—allthedoorsopen,nothinglocked—askingforthievesandburglars?”
“Butitcouldn’thavebeenaburglar,nothingwasstolen.Besides,whyshouldaburglarcomeinandpoisonsomebody?”
“Ididn’tsayitwasaburglar,MissSophia.Ionlysaidallthedoorswereopen.Anyonecouldhavegotin.IfyouaskmeitwastheCommunists.”
Nannienoddedherheadinasatisfiedway.
“WhyonearthshouldCommunistswanttomurderpoorgrandfather?”
“Well,everyonesaysthatthey’reatthebottomofeverythingthatgoeson.Butifitwasn’ttheCommunists,markmyword,itwastheCatholics.TheScarletWomanofBabylon,that’swhattheyare.”
Withtheairofonesayingthelastword,Nanniedisappearedagainintothescullery.
SophiaandIlaughed.
“AgoodoldBlackProtestant,”Isaid
“Yes,isn’tshe?Comeon,Charles,comeintothedrawingroom.There’sakindoffamilyconclavegoingon.Itwasscheduledforthisevening—butit’sstartedprematurely.”
“I’dbetternotbuttin,Sophia.”
“Ifyou’reevergoingtomarryintothefamily,you’dbetterseejustwhatit’slikewhenithastheglovesoff.”
“What’sitallabout?”
“Roger’saffairs.Youseemtohavebeenmixedupinthemalready.Butyou’recrazytothinkthatRogerwouldeverhavekilledgrandfather.Why,Rogeradoredhim.”
“Ididn’treallythinkRogerhad.IthoughtClemencymighthave.”
“OnlybecauseIputitintoyourhead.Butyou’rewrongtheretoo.Idon’tthinkClemencywillmindabitifRogerlosesallhismoney.Ithinkshe’llactuallyberatherpleased.She’sgotaqueerkindofpassionfornothavingthings.Comeon.”
WhenSophiaandIenteredthedrawingroom,thevoicesthatwerespeakingstoppedabruptly.Everybodylookedatus.
Theywereallthere.Philipsittinginabigcrimsonbrocadedarmchairbetweenthewindows,hisbeautifulfacesetinacold,sternmask.Helookedlikeajudgeabouttopronouncesentence.Rogerwasastrideabigpouffebythefireplace.Hehadruffleduphishairbetweenhisfingersuntilitstoodupalloverhishead.Hislefttrouserlegwasruckedupandhistieaskew.Helookedflushedandargumentative.Clemencysatbeyondhim,herslightformseemedtooslenderforthebigstuffedchair.Shewaslookingawayfromtheothersandseemedtobestudyingthewallpanelswithadispassionategaze.Edithsatinagrandfatherchair,boltupright.Shewasknittingwithincredibleenergy,herlipspressedtightlytogether.ThemostbeautifulthingintheroomtolookatwasMagdaandEustace.TheylookedlikeaportraitbyGainsborough.Theysattogetheronthesofa—thedark,handsomeboywithasullenexpressiononhisface,andbesidehim,onearmthrustoutalongthebackofthesofa,satMagda,theDuchessofThreeGablesinapicturegownoftaffetaswithonesmallfootinabrocadedslipperthrustoutinfrontofher.
Philipfrowned.
“Sophia,”hesaid,“I’msorry,butwearediscussingfamilymatterswhichareofaprivatenature.”
MissdeHaviland’sneedlesclicked.Ipreparedtoapologizeandretreat.Sophiaforestalledme.Hervoicewasclearanddetermined.
“CharlesandI,”shesaid,“hopetogetmarried.IwantCharlestobehere.”
“Andwhyonearthnot?”criedRoger,springingupfromhispouffewithexplosiveenergy.“Ikeeptellingyou,Philip,there’snothingprivateaboutthis!Thewholeworldisgoingtoknowtomorroworthedayafter.Anyway,mydearboy,”hecameandputafriendlyhandonmyshoulder,“youknowallaboutit.Youweretherethismorning.”
“Dotellme,”criedMagda,leaningforward.“WhatisitlikeatScotlandYard?Onealwayswonders.Atable?Adesk?Chairs?Whatkindofcurtains?Noflowers,Isuppose?Adictaphone?”
“Putasockinit,Mother,”saidSophia.“Andanyway,youtoldVavasourJonestocutthatScotlandYardscene.Yousaiditwasananticlimax.”
“Itmakesittoolikeadetectiveplay,”saidMagda.“EdithThompsonisdefinitelyapsychologicaldrama—orpsychologicalthriller—whichdoyouthinksoundsbest?”
“Youweretherethismorning?”Philipaskedmesharply.“Why?Oh,ofcourse—yourfather—”
Hefrowned.Irealizedmoreclearlythaneverthatmypresencewasunwelcome,butSophia’shandwasclenchedonmyarm.
Clemencymovedachairforward.
“Dositdown,”shesaid.
Igaveheragratefulglanceandaccepted.
“Youmaysaywhatyoulike,”saidMissdeHaviland,apparentlygoingonfromwheretheyhadallleftoff,“butIdothinkweoughttorespectAristide’swishes.Whenthiswillbusinessisstraightenedout,asfarasIamconcerned,mylegacyisentirelyatyourdisposal,Roger.”
Rogertuggedhishairinafrenzy.
“NoAuntEdith.No!”hecried.
“IwishIcouldsaythesame,”saidPhilip,“butonehastotakeeveryfactorintoconsideration—”
“DearoldPhil,don’tyouunderstand?I’mnotgoingtotakeapennyfromanyone.”
“Ofcoursehecan’t!”snappedClemency.
“Anyway,Edith,”saidMagda.“Ifthewillisstraightenedout,he’llhavehisownlegacy.”
“Butitcan’tpossiblybestraightenedoutintime,canit?”askedEustace.
“Youdon’tknowanythingaboutit,Eustace,”saidPhilip.
“Theboy’sabsolutelyright,”criedRoger.“He’sputhisfingeronthespot.Nothingcanavertthecrash.Nothing.”
Hespokewithakindofrelish.
“Thereisreallynothingtodiscuss,”saidClemency.
“Anyway,”saidRoger,“whatdoesitmatter?”
“Ishouldhavethoughtitmatteredagooddeal,”saidPhilip,pressinghislipstogether.
“No,”saidRoger.“No!Doesanythingmattercomparedwiththefactthatfatherisdead?Fatherisdead!Andwesitherediscussingmeremoneymatters!”
AfaintcolourroseinPhilip’spalecheeks.
“Weareonlytryingtohelp,”hesaidstiffly.
“Iknow,Phil,oldboy,Iknow.Butthere’snothinganyonecando.Solet’scallitaday.”
“Isuppose,”saidPhilip,“thatIcouldraiseacertainamountofmoney.SecuritieshavegonedownagooddealandsomeofmycapitalistiedupinsuchawaythatIcan’ttouchit:Magda’ssettlementandsoon—but—”
Magdasaidquickly:
“Ofcourseyoucan’traisethemoney,darling.Itwouldbeabsurdtotry—andnotveryfaironthechildren.”
“ItellyouI’mnotaskinganyoneforanything!”shoutedRoger.“I’mhoarsewithtellingyouso.I’mquitecontentthatthingsshouldtaketheircourse.”
“It’saquestionofprestige,”saidPhilip.“Father’s.Ours.”
“Itwasn’tafamilybusiness.Itwassolelymyconcern.”
“Yes,”saidPhilip,lookingathim.“Itwasentirelyyourconcern.”
EdithdeHavilandgotupandsaid:“Ithinkwe’vediscussedthisenough.”
Therewasinhervoicethatauthenticnoteofauthoritythatneverfailstoproduceitseffect.
PhilipandMagdagotup.EustaceloungedoutoftheroomandInoticedthestiffnessofhisgait.Hewasnotexactlylame,buthiswalkwasahaltingone.
RogerlinkedhisarminPhilip’sandsaid:
“You’vebeenabrick,Phil,eventothinkofsuchathing!”Thebrotherswentouttogether.
Magdamurmured,“Suchafuss!”asshefollowedthem,andSophiasaidthatshemustseeaboutmyroom.
EdithdeHavilandstoodrollingupherknitting.ShelookedtowardsmeandIthoughtshewasgoingtospeaktome.Therewassomethingalmostlikeappealinherglance.However,shechangedhermind,sighed,andwentoutaftertheothers.
Clemencyhadmovedovertothewindowandstoodlookingoutintothegarden.Iwentoverandstoodbesideher.Sheturnedherheadslightlytowardsme.
“Thankgoodnessthat’sover,”shesaid—andaddedwithdistaste:“Whatapreposterousroomthisis!”
“Don’tyoulikeit?”
“Ican’tbreatheinit.There’salwaysasmellofhalf-deadflowersanddust.”
Ithoughtshewasunjusttotheroom.ButIknewwhatshemeant.Itwasverydefinitelyaninterior.
Itwasawoman’sroom,exotic,soft,shutawayfromtherudeblastsofoutsideweather.Itwasnotaroomthatamanwouldbehappyinforlong.Itwasnotaroomwhereyoucouldrelaxandreadthenewspaperandsmokeapipeandputupyourfeet.NeverthelessIpreferredittoClemency’sownabstractexpressionofherselfupstairs.OnthewholeIpreferaboudoirtoanoperatingtheatre.
Shesaid,lookinground:
“It’sjustastageset.AbackgroundforMagdatoplayherscenesagainst.”Shelookedatme.“Yourealize,don’tyou,whatwe’vejustbeendoing?ActII—thefamilyconclave.Magdaarrangedit.Itdidn’tmeanathing.Therewasnothingtotalkabout,nothingtodiscuss.It’sallsettled—finished.”
Therewasnosadnessinhervoice.Rathertherewassatisfaction.Shecaughtmyglance.
“Oh,don’tyouunderstand?”shesaidimpatiently.“We’refree—atlast!Don’tyouunderstandthatRoger’sbeenmiserable—absolutelymiserable—foryears?Heneverhadanyaptitudeforbusiness.Helikesthingslikehorsesandcowsandpotteringroundinthecountry.Butheadoredhisfather—theyalldid.That’swhat’swrongwiththishouse—toomuchfamily.Idon’tmeanthattheoldmanwasatyrant,orpreyeduponthem,orbulliedthem.Hedidn’t.Hegavethemmoneyandfreedom.Hewasdevotedtothem.Andtheykeptonbeingdevotedtohim.”
“Isthereanythingwronginthat?”
“Ithinkthereis.Ithink,whenyourchildrenhavegrownup,thatyoushouldcutawayfromthem,effaceyourself,slinkaway,forcethemtoforgetyou.”
“Forcethem?That’sratherdrastic,isn’tit?Isn’tcoercionasbadonewayasanother?”
“Ifhehadn’tmadehimselfsuchapersonality—”
“Youcan’tmakeyourselfapersonality,”Isaid.“Hewasapersonality.”
“HewastoomuchofapersonalityforRoger.Rogerworshippedhim.Hewantedtodoeverythinghisfatherwantedhimtodo,hewantedtobethekindofsonhisfatherwanted.Andhecouldn’t.HisfathermadeoverAssociatedCateringtohim—itwastheoldman’sparticularjoyandpride,andRogertriedhardtocarryoninhisfather’sfootsteps.Buthehadn’tgotthatkindofability.InbusinessmattersRogeris—yes,I’llsayitplainly—afool.Anditnearlybrokehisheart.He’sbeenmiserableforyears,struggling,seeingthewholethinggodownthehill,havingsuddenwonderful‘ideas’and‘schemes’whichalwayswentwrongandmadeitworsethanever.It’saterriblethingtofeelyou’reafailureyearafteryear.Youdon’tknowhowunhappyhe’sbeen.Ido.”
Againsheturnedandfacedme.
“Youthought,youactuallysuggestedtothepolice,thatRogerwouldhavekilledhisfather—formoney!Youdon’tknowhow—howabsolutelyridiculousthatis!”
“Idoknowitnow,”Isaidhumbly.
“WhenRogerknewhecouldn’tstaveitoffanymore—thatthecrashwasboundtocome,hewasactuallyrelieved.Yes,hewas.Heworriedabouthisfather’sknowing—butnotaboutanythingelse.Hewaslookingforwardtothenewlifeweweregoingtolive.”
Herfacequiveredalittleandhervoicesoftened.
“Wherewereyougoing?”Iasked.
“ToBarbados.Adistantcousinofminediedashorttimeagoandleftmeatinyestateoutthere—oh,nothingmuch.Butitwassomewheretogo.We’dhavebeendesperatelypoor,butwe’dhavescratchedaliving—itcostsverylittlejusttolive.We’dhavebeentogether—unworried,awayfromthemall.”
Shesighed.
“Rogerisaridiculousperson.Hewouldworryaboutme—aboutmybeingpoor.Isupposehe’stheLeonides’attitudetomoneytoofirmlyinhismind.Whenmyfirsthusbandwasalive,wewereterriblypoor—andRogerthinksitwassobraveandwonderfulofme!Hedoesn’trealizethatIwashappy—reallyhappy!I’veneverbeensohappysince.Andyet—IneverlovedRichardasIloveRoger.”
Hereyeshalf-closed.Iwasawareoftheintensityofherfeeling.
Sheopenedhereyes,lookedatmeandsaid:
“Soyousee,Iwouldneverhavekilledanyoneformoney.Idon’tlikemoney.”
Iwasquitesurethatshemeantexactlywhatshesaid.ClemencyLeonideswasoneofthoserarepeopletowhommoneydoesnotappeal.Theydislikeluxury,preferausterityandaresuspiciousofpossessions.
Still,therearemanytowhommoneyhasnopersonalappeal,butwhocanbetemptedbythepoweritconfers.
Isaid:“Youmightn’twantmoneyforyourself—butwiselydirected,moneycandoalotofinterestingthings.Itcanendowresearch,forexample.”
IhadsuspectedthatClemencymightbeafanaticaboutherwork,butshemerelysaid:
“Idoubtifendowmentseverdomuchgood.They’reusuallyspentinthewrongway.Thethingsthatareworthwhileareusuallyaccomplishedbysomeonewithenthusiasmanddrive—andwithnaturalvision.Expensiveequipmentandtrainingandexperimentneverdoeswhatyou’dimagineitmightdo.Thespendingofitusuallygetsintothewronghands.”
“WillyoumindgivingupyourworkwhenyougotoBarbados?”Iasked.“You’restillgoing,Ipresume?”
“Oh,yes,assoonasthepolicewillletus.No,Ishan’tmindgivingupmyworkatall.WhyshouldI?Iwouldn’tliketobeidle,butIshan’tbeidleinBarbados.”
Sheaddedimpatiently:
“Oh,ifonlythiscouldallbeclearedupquicklyandwecouldgetaway.”
“Clemency,”Isaid,“haveyouanyideaatallwhodiddothis?GrantingthatyouandRogerhadnohandinit(andreallyIcan’tseeanyreasontothinkyouhad),surely,withyourintelligence,youmusthavesomeideaofwhodid?”
Shegavemearatherpeculiarlook,adarting,sidewaysglance.Whenshespokehervoicehadlostitsspontaneity.Itwasawkward,ratherembarrassed.
“Onecan’tmakeguesses,it’sunscientific,”shesaid.“OnecanonlysaythatBrendaandLaurencearetheobvioussuspects.”
“Soyouthinktheydidit?”
Clemencyshruggedhershoulders.
Shestoodforamomentasthoughlistening,thenshewentoutoftheroom,passingEdithdeHavilandinthedoorway.
Edithcamestraightovertome.
“Iwanttotalktoyou,”shesaid.
Myfather’swordsleaptintomymind.Wasthis—
ButEdithdeHavilandwasgoingon:
“Ihopeyoudidn’tgetthewrongimpression,”shesaid.“AboutPhilip,Imean.Philipisratherdifficulttounderstand.Hemayseemtoyoureservedandcold,butthatisnotsoatall.It’sjustamanner.Hecan’thelpit.”
“Ireallyhadn’tthought—”Ibegan.
Butsheswepton:
“Justnow—aboutRoger.Itisn’treallythathe’sgrudging.He’sneverbeenmeanaboutmoney.Andhe’sreallyadear—he’salwaysbeenadear—butheneedsunderstanding.”
Ilookedatherwiththeair,Ihope,ofonewhowaswillingtounderstand.Shewenton:
“It’spartly,Ithink,fromhavingbeenthesecondofthefamily.There’softensomethingaboutasecondchild—theystarthandicapped.Headoredhisfather,yousee.Ofcourse,allthechildrenadoredAristideandheadoredthem.ButRogerwashisespecialprideandjoy.Beingtheeldest—thefirst.AndIthinkPhilipfeltit.Hedrewbackrightintohimself.Hebegantolikebooksandthepastandthingsthatwerewelldivorcedfromeverydaylife.Ithinkhesuffered—childrendosuffer….”
Shepausedandwenton:
“WhatIreallymean,Isuppose,isthathe’salwaysbeenjealousofRoger.Ithinkperhapshedoesn’tknowithimself.ButIthinkthefactthatRogerhascomeacropper—oh,itseemsanodiousthingtosayandreallyI’msurehedoesn’trealizeithimself—butIthinkperhapsPhilipisn’tassorryaboutitasheoughttobe.”
“Youmeanreallythathe’sratherpleasedRogerhasmadeafoolofhimself.”
“Yes,”saidMissdeHaviland.“Imeanjustexactlythat.”
Sheadded,frowningalittle:
“Itdistressedme,youknow,thathedidn’tatonceoffertohelphisbrother.”
“Whyshouldhe?”Isaid.“Afterall,Rogerhasmadeamuckofthings.He’sagrownman.Therearenochildrentoconsider.Ifhewereillorinrealwant,ofcoursehisfamilywouldhelp—butI’venodoubtRogerwouldreallymuchprefertostartafreshentirelyonhisown.”
“Oh!hewould.It’sonlyClemencyhemindsabout.AndClemencyisanextraordinarycreature.Shereallylikesbeinguncomfortableandhavingonlyoneutilityteacuptodrinkoutof.Modern,Isuppose.She’snosenseofthepast,nosenseofbeauty.”
Ifelthershrewdeyeslookingmeupanddown.
“ThisisadreadfulordealforSophia,”shesaid.“Iamsosorryheryouthshouldbedimmedbyit.Ilovethemall,youknow.RogerandPhilip,andnowSophiaandEustaceandJosephine.Allthedearchildren.Marcia’schildren.Yes,Ilovethemdearly.”Shepausedandthenaddedsharply:“But,mindyou,thissideidolatry.”
Sheturnedabruptlyandwent.IhadthefeelingthatshehadmeantsomethingbyherlastremarkthatIdidnotquiteunderstand.
Fifteen
“Yourroom’sready,”saidSophia.
Shestoodbymysidelookingoutatthegarden.Itlookedbleakandgreynowwiththehalf-denudedtreesswayinginthewind.
Sophiaechoedmythoughtsasshesaid:
“Howdesolateitlooks….”
Aswewatched,afigure,andthenpresentlyanothercamethroughtheyewhedgefromtherockgarden.Theybothlookedgreyandunsubstantialinthefadinglight.
BrendaLeonideswasthefirst.Shewaswrappedinagreychinchillacoatandtherewassomethingcatlikeandstealthyinthewayshemoved.Sheslippedthroughthetwilightwithakindofeeriegrace.
Isawherfaceasshepassedthewindow.Therewasahalf-smileonit,thecurving,crookedsmileIhadnoticedupstairs.AfewminuteslaterLaurenceBrown,lookingslenderandshrunken,alsoslippedthroughthetwilight.Icanonlyputitthatway.Theydidnotseemliketwopeoplewalking,twopeoplewhohadbeenoutforastroll.Therewassomethingfurtiveandunsubstantialaboutthemliketwoghosts.
IwonderedifitwasunderBrenda’sorLaurence’sfootatwighadsnapped.
Byanaturalassociationofideas,Iasked:
“Where’sJosephine?”
“ProbablywithEustaceupintheschoolroom.”Shefrowned.“I’mworriedaboutEustace,Charles.”
“Why?”
“He’ssomoodyandodd.He’sbeensodifferenteversincethatwretchedparalysis.Ican’tmakeoutwhat’sgoingoninhismind.Sometimesheseemstohateusall.”
“He’llprobablygrowoutofallthat.It’sjustaphase.”
“Yes,Isupposeso.ButIdogetworried,Charles.”
“Why,dearheart?”
“Really,Isuppose,becausemotherandfatherneverworry.They’renotlikeamotherandfather.”
“Thatmaybeallforthebest.Morechildrensufferfrominterferencethanfromnoninterference.”
“That’strue.Youknow,IneverthoughtaboutituntilIcamebackfromabroad,buttheyreallyareaqueercouple.Fatherlivingdeterminedlyinaworldofobscurehistoricalbypathsandmotherhavingalovelytimecreatingscenes.Thattomfoolerythiseveningwasallmother.Therewasnoneedforit.Shejustwantedtoplayafamilyconclavescene.Shegetsbored,youknow,downhereandhastotryandworkupadrama.”
ForthemomentIhadafantasticvisionofSophia’smotherpoisoningherelderlyfather-in-lawinalightheartedmannerinordertoobserveamurderdramaatfirsthandwithherselfintheleadingrole.
Anamusingthought!Idismisseditassuch—butitleftmealittleuneasy.
“Mother,”saidSophia,“hastobelookedafterthewholetime.Youneverknowwhatshe’supto!”
“Forgetyourfamily,Sophia,”Isaidfirmly.
“Ishallbeonlytoodelightedto,butit’salittledifficultatthepresentmoment.ButIwashappyoutinCairowhenIhadforgottenthemall.”
IrememberedhowSophiahadnevermentionedherhomeorherpeople.
“Isthatwhyyounevertalkedaboutthem?”Iasked.“Becauseyouwantedtoforgetthem?”
“Ithinkso.We’vealways,allofus,livedtoomuchineachother’spockets.We’re—we’realltoofondofeachother.We’renotlikesomefamilieswheretheyallhateeachotherlikepoison.Thatmustbeprettybad,butit’salmostworsetolivealltangledupinconflictingaffections.”
Sheadded:
“Ithinkthat’swhatImeanwhenIsaidwealllivedtogetherinalittlecrookedhouse.Ididn’tmeanthatitwascrookedinthedishonestsense.IthinkwhatImeantwasthatwehadn’tbeenabletogrowupindependent,standingbyourselves,upright.We’reallabittwistedandtwining.”
IsawEdithdeHaviland’sheelgrindingaweedintothepathasSophiaadded:
“Likebindweed….”
AndthensuddenlyMagdawaswithus—flingingopenthedoor—cryingout:
“Darlings,whydon’tyouhavethelightson?It’salmostdark.”
Andshepressedtheswitchesandthelightsspranguponthewallsandonthetables,andsheandSophiaandIpulledtheheavyrosecurtains,andtherewewereintheflower-scentedinterior,andMagdaflingingherselfonthesofa,cried:
“Whatanincrediblesceneitwas,wasn’tit?HowcrossEustacewas!Hetoldmehethoughtitwasallpositivelyindecent.Howfunnyboysare!”
Shesighed.
“Roger’sratherapet.Ilovehimwhenherumpleshishairandstartsknockingthingsover.Wasn’titsweetofEdithtoofferherlegacytohim?Shereallymeantit,youknow,itwasn’tjustagesture.Butitwasterriblystupid—itmighthavemadePhilipthinkheoughttodoittoo!OfcourseEdithwoulddoanythingforthefamily!There’ssomethingverypatheticintheloveofaspinsterforhersister’schildren.SomedayIshallplayoneofthosedevotedspinsteraunts.Inquisitiveandobstinateanddevoted.”
“Itmusthavebeenhardforherafterhersisterdied,”Isaid,refusingtobesidetrackedintodiscussionofanotherofMagda’sroles.“ImeanifshedislikedoldLeonidessomuch.”
Magdainterruptedme.
“Dislikedhim?Whotoldyouthat?Nonsense.Shewasinlovewithhim.”
“Mother!”saidSophia.
“Nowdon’ttryandcontradictme,Sophia.Naturallyatyourage,youthinkloveisalltwogood-lookingyoungpeopleinthemoonlight.”
“Shetoldme,”Isaid,“thatshehadalwaysdislikedhim.”
“Probablyshedidwhenshefirstcame.She’dbeenangrywithhersisterformarryinghim.Idaresaytherewasalwayssomeantagonism—butshewasinlovewithhimallright!Darling,IdoknowwhatI’mtalkingabout!Ofcourse,withdeceasedwife’ssisterandallthat,hecouldn’thavemarriedher,andIdaresayheneverthoughtofit—andquiteprobablyshedidn’teither.Shewasquitehappymotheringthechildren,andhavingfightswithhim.Butshedidn’tlikeitwhenhemarriedBrenda.Shedidn’tlikeitabit!”
“Nomoredidyouandfather,”saidSophia.
“No,ofcoursewehatedit!Naturally!ButEdithhateditmost.Darling,thewayI’veseenherlookatBrenda!”
“Now,Mother,”saidSophia.
Magdathrewheranaffectionateandhalf-guiltyglance,theglanceofamischieveous,spoiltchild.
Shewenton,withnoapparentrealizationofanylackofcontinuity:
“I’vedecidedJosephinereallymustgotoschool.”
“Josephine?Toschool?”
“Yes.ToSwitzerland.I’mgoingtoseeaboutittomorrow.Ireallythinkwemightgetheroffatonce.It’ssobadforhertobemixedupinahorridbusinesslikethis.She’sgettingquitemorbidaboutit.Whatsheneedsisotherchildrenofherownage.Schoollife.I’vealwaysthoughtso.”
“Grandfatherdidn’twanthertogotoschool,”saidSophiaslowly.“Hewasverymuchagainstit.”
“DarlingoldSweetiePielikedusallhereunderhiseye.Veryoldpeopleareoftenselfishinthatway.Achildoughttobeamongstotherchildren.AndSwitzerlandissohealthy—allthewintersports,andtheair,andsomuch,muchbetterfoodthanwegethere!”
“ItwillbedifficulttoarrangeforSwitzerlandnowwithallthecurrencyregulations,won’tit?”Iasked.
“Nonsense,Charles.There’ssomekindofeducationalracket—oryouexchangewithaSwisschild—thereareallsortsofways.RudolphAlstir’sinLausanne.Ishallwirehimtomorrowtoarrangeeverything.Wecangetheroffbytheendoftheweek!”
Magdapunchedacushion,smiledatus,wenttothedoor,stoodamomentlookingbackatusinaquiteenchantingfashion.
“It’sonlytheyoungwhocount,”shesaid.Asshesaidit,itwasalovelyline.“Theymustalwayscomefirst.And,darlings—thinkoftheflowers—thebluegentians,thenarcissus….”
“InOctober?”askedSophia,butMagdahadgone.
Sophiaheavedanexasperatedsigh.
“Really,”shesaid.“Motheristootrying!Shegetsthesesuddenideas,andshesendsthousandsoftelegramsandeverythinghastobearrangedatamoment’snotice.WhyshouldJosephinebehustledofftoSwitzerlandallinaflurry?”
“There’sprobablysomethingintheideaofschool.IthinkchildrenofherownagewouldbeagoodthingforJosephine.”
“Grandfatherdidn’tthinkso,”saidSophiaobstinately.
Ifeltslightlyirritated.
“MydearSophia,doyoureallythinkanoldgentlemanofovereightyisthebestjudgeofachild’swelfare?”
“Hewasaboutthebestjudgeofanybodyinthishouse,”saidSophia.
“BetterthanyourAuntEdith?”
“No,perhapsnot.Shedidratherfavourschool.IadmitJosephine’sgotintoratherdifficultways—she’sgotahorriblehabitofsnooping.ButIreallythinkit’sjustbecauseshe’splayingdetectives.”
WasitonlytheconcernforJosephine’swelfarewhichhadoccasionedMagda’ssuddendecision?Iwondered.Josephinewasremarkablywell-informedaboutallsortsofthingsthathadhappenedpriortothemurderandwhichhadbeencertainlynobusinessofhers.Ahealthyschoollifewithplentyofgameswouldprobablydoheraworldofgood.ButIdidratherwonderatthesuddennessandurgencyofMagda’sdecision—Switzerlandwasalongwayoff.
Sixteen
TheOldManhadsaid:
“Letthemtalktoyou.”
AsIshavedthefollowingmorning,Iconsideredjusthowfarthathadtakenme
EdithdeHavilandhadtalkedtome—shehadsoughtmeoutforthatespecialpurpose.Clemencyhadtalkedtome(orhadItalkedtoher?).Magdahadtalkedtomeinasense—thatis,Ihadformedpartoftheaudiencetooneofherbroadcasts.Sophianaturallyhadtalkedtome.EvenNanniehadtalkedtome.WasIanythewiserforwhatIhadlearnedfromthemall?Wasthereanysignificantwordorphrase?More,wasthereanyevidenceofthatabnormalvanityonwhichmyfatherhadlaidstress?Icouldn’tseethattherewas.
Theonlypersonwhohadshownabsolutelynodesiretotalktomeinanyway,oronanysubject,wasPhilip.Wasnotthat,inaway,ratherabnormal?HemustknowbynowthatIwantedtomarryhisdaughter.YethecontinuedtoactasthoughIwasnotinthehouseatall.Presumablyheresentedmypresencethere.EdithdeHavilandhadapologizedforhim.Shehadsaiditwasjust“manner.”ShehadshownherselfconcernedaboutPhilip.Why?
IconsideredSophia’sfather.Hewasineverysensearepressedindividual.Hehadbeenanunhappyjealouschild.Hehadbeenforcedbackintohimself.Hehadtakenrefugeintheworldofbooks—inthehistoricalpast.Thatstudiedcoldnessandreserveofhismightconcealagooddealofpassionatefeeling.Theinadequatemotiveoffinancialgainbyhisfather’sdeathwasunconvincing—IdidnotthinkforamomentthatPhilipLeonideswouldkillhisfatherbecausehehimselfhadnotquiteasmuchmoneyashewouldliketohave.Buttheremightbesomedeeppsychologicalreasonforhisdesiringhisfather’sdeath.Philiphadcomebacktohisfather’shousetolive,andlater,asaresultoftheBlitz,Rogerhadcome—andPhiliphadbeenobligedtoseedaybydaythatRogerwashisfather’sfavourite…Mightthingshavecometosuchapassinhistorturedmindthattheonlyreliefpossiblewashisfather’sdeath?Andsupposingthatdeathshouldincriminatehiselderbrother?Rogerwasshortofmoney—onthevergeofacrash.KnowingnothingofthatlastinterviewbetweenRogerandhisfatherandthelatter’sofferofassistance,mightnotPhiliphavebelievedthatthemotivewouldseemsopowerfulthatRogerwouldbeatoncesuspected?WasPhilip’smentalbalancesufficientlydisturbedtoleadhimtodomurder?
Icutmychinwiththerazorandswore.
WhatthehellwasItryingtodo?FastenmurderonSophia’sfather?Thatwasanicethingtotryanddo!Thatwasn’twhatSophiahadwantedmetocomedownherefor.
Or—wasit?Therewassomething,hadbeensomethingallalong,behindSophia’sappeal.Iftherewasanylingeringsuspicioninhermindthatherfatherwasthekiller,thenshewouldneverconsenttomarryme—incasethatsuspicionmightbetrue.AndsinceshewasSophia,clear-eyedandbrave,shewantedthetruth,sinceuncertaintywouldbeaneternalandperpetualbarrierbetweenus.Hadn’tshebeenineffectsayingtome,“ProvethatthisdreadfulthingIamimaginingisnottrue—butifitistrue,thenproveitstruthtome—sothatIcanknowtheworstandfaceit!”
DidEdithdeHavilandknow,orsuspect,thatPhilipwasguilty.Whathadshemeantby“thissideidolatry?”
AndwhathadClemencymeantbythatpeculiarlookshehadthrownatmewhenIhadaskedherwhoshesuspectedandshehadanswered:“LaurenceandBrendaaretheobvioussuspects,aren’tthey?”
ThewholefamilywantedittobeBrendaandLaurence,hopeditmightbeBrendaandLaurence,butdidn’treallybelieveitwasBrendaandLaurence….
Andofcourse,thewholefamilymightbewrong,anditmightreallybeLaurenceandBrendaafterall.
Or,itmightbeLaurence,andnotBrenda….
Thatwouldbeamuchbettersolution.
IfinisheddabbingmycutchinandwentdowntobreakfastfilledwiththedeterminationtohaveaninterviewwithLaurenceBrownassoonaspossible.
ItwasonlyasIdrankmysecondcupofcoffeethatitoccurredtomethattheCrookedHousewashavingitseffectonmealso.I,too,wantedtofind,notthetruesolution,butthesolutionthatsuitedmebest.
AfterbreakfastIwentthroughthehallandupthestairs.SophiahadtoldmethatIshouldfindLaurencegivinginstructiontoEustaceandJosephineintheschoolroom.
IhesitatedonthelandingoutsideBrenda’sfrontdoor.DidIringandknock,ordidIwalkrightin?IdecidedtotreatthehouseasanintegralLeonideshomeandnotasBrenda’sprivateresidence.
Iopenedthedoorandpassedinside.Everythingwasquiet,thereseemednooneabout.Onmyleftthedoorintothebigdrawingroomwasclosed.Onmyrighttwoopendoorsshowedabedroomandadjoiningbathroom.ThisIknewwasthebathroomadjoiningAristideLeonides’bedroomwheretheeserineandtheinsulinhadbeenkept.
Thepolicehadfinishedwithitnow.Ipushedthedooropenandslippedinside.Irealizedthenhoweasyitwouldhavebeenforanyoneinthehouse(orfromoutsidethehouseforthematterofthat!)tocomeuphereandintothebathroomunseen.
Istoodinthebathroomlookinground.Itwassumptuouslyappointedwithgleamingtilesandasunkenbath.Atonesidewerevariouselectricappliances;ahotplateandgrillunder,anelectrickettle—asmallelectricsaucepan,atoaster—everythingthatavaletattendanttoanoldgentlemanmightneed.Onthewallwasawhiteenamelledcupboard.I“TheTablets—oneortwotobetakenatnightasordered.”Onthisshelf,nodoubt,hadstoodthebottleofeyedrops.Itwasallclear,wellarranged,easyforanyonetogetatifneeded,andequallyeasytogetatformurder.
IcoulddowhatIlikedwiththebottlesandthengosoftlyoutanddownstairsagainandnobodywouldeverknowIhadbeenthere.Allthiswas,ofcourse,nothingnew,butitbroughthometomehowdifficultthetaskofthepolicewas
Onlyfromtheguiltypartyorpartiescouldonefindoutwhatoneneeded.
“Rattle’em,”Tavernerhadsaidtome.“Get’emontherun.Make’emthinkwe’reontosomething.Keepourselveswellinthelimelight.Soonerorlater,ifwedo,ourcriminalwillstopleavingwellaloneandtrytobesmarterstill—andthen—we’vegothim.”
Well,thecriminalhadn’treactedtothistreatmentsofar.
Icameoutofthebathroom.Stillnooneabout.Iwentonalongthecorridor.Ipassedthediningroomontheleft,andBrenda’sbedroomandbathroomontheright.Inthelatter,oneofthemaidswasmovingabout.Thediningroomdoorwasclosed.Fromaroombeyondthat,IheardEdithdeHaviland’svoicetelephoningtotheinevitablefishmonger.A
OutsidethedoorIpaused.LaurenceBrown’svoicecouldbeheard,slightlyraised,frominside.
IthinkJosephine’shabitofsnoopingmusthavebeencatching.QuiteunashamedlyIleanedagainstthedoorjambandlistened.
Itwasahistorylessonthatwasinprogress,andtheperiodinquestionwastheFrenchDirectoire.
AsIlistenedastonishmentopenedmyeyes.ItwasaconsiderablesurprisetometodiscoverthatLaurenceBrownwasamagnificentteacher.
Idon’tknowwhyitshouldhavesurprisedmesomuch.Afterall,AristideLeonideshadalwaysbeenagoodpickerofmen.Forallhismouselikeexterior,Laurencehadthatsupremegiftofbeingabletorouseenthusiasmandimaginationinhispupils.ThedramaofThermidor,thedecreeofoutlawryagainsttheRobespierrists,themagnificenceofBarras,thecunningofFouché—Napoleonthehalf-starvedyounggunnerlieutenant—allthesewererealandliving.
SuddenlyLaurencestopped,heaskedEustaceandJosephineaquestion,hemadethemputthemselvesintheplaceoffirstoneandthenanotherfigureinthedrama.Thoughhedidn’tgetmuchresultfromJosephine,whosevoicesoundedasthoughshehadacoldinthehead,Eustacesoundedquitedifferentfromhisusualmoodyself.Heshowedbrainsandintelligenceandthekeenhistoricalsensewhichhehaddoubtlessinheritedfromhisfather.
ThenIheardthechairsbeingpushedbackandscrapedacrossthefloor.Iretreatedupthestepsandwasapparentlyjustcomingdownthemwhenthedooropened.
EustaceandJosephinecameout.
“Hallo,”Isaid.
Eustacelookedsurprisedtoseeme.
“Doyouwantanything?”heaskedpolitely.
Josephine,takingnointerestinmypresence,slippedpastme.
“Ijustwantedtoseetheschoolroom,”Isaidratherfeebly.
“Yousawittheotherday,didn’tyou?It’sjustakid’splacereally.Usedtobethenursery.It’sstillgotalotoftoysinit.”
HeheldopenthedoorformeandIwentin.
LaurenceBrownstoodbythetable.Helookedup,flushed,murmuredsomethinginanswertomygoodmorningandwenthurriedlyout.
“You’vescaredhim,”saidEustace.“He’sveryeasilyscared.”
“Doyoulikehim,Eustace?”
“Oh!he’sallright.Anawfulass,ofcourse.”
“Butnotabadteacher?”
“No,asamatteroffacthe’squiteinteresting.Heknowsanawfullot.Hemakesyouseethingsfromadifferentangle.IneverknewthatHenrytheEighthwrotepoetry—toAnnBoleyn,ofcourse—jollydecentpoetry.”
WetalkedforafewmomentsonsuchsubjectsasTheAncientMariner,Chaucer,thepoliticalimplicationsbehindtheCrusades,themedievalapproachtolife,andthe,toEustace,surprisingfactthatOliverCromwellhadprohibitedthecelebrationofChristmasDay.BehindEustace’sscornfulandratherill-temperedmannertherewas,Iperceived,aninquiringandablemind.
Verysoon,Ibegantorealizethesourceofhisillhumour.Hisillnesshadnotonlybeenafrighteningordeal,ithadalsobeenafrustrationandasetback,justatamomentwhenhehadbeenenjoyinglife.
“Iwastohavebeenintheelevennextterm—andI’dgotmyhousecolours.It’sprettythicktohavetostopathomeanddolessonswitharottenkidlikeJosephine.Why,she’sonlytwelve.”
“Yes,butyoudon’thavethesamestudies,doyou?”
“No,ofcourseshedoesn’tdoadvancedmaths—orLatin.Butyoudon’twanttohavetoshareatutorwithagirl.”
ItriedtosoothehisinjuredmalepridebyremarkingthatJosephinewasquiteanintelligentgirlforherage.
“D’youthinkso?Ithinkshe’sawfullywet.She’smadkeenonthisdetectingstuff—goesroundpokinghernoseineverywhereandwritingthingsdowninalittleblackbookandpretendingthatshe’sfindingoutalot.Justasillykid,that’sallsheis,”saidEustaceloftily.
“Anyway,”headded,“girlscan’tbedetectives.Itoldherso.Ithinkmother’squiterightandthesoonerJo’spackedofftoSwitzerlandthebetter.”
“Wouldn’tyoumissher?”
“Missakidofthatage?”saidEustacehaughtily.“Ofcoursenot.Mygoodness,thishouseistheabsolutelimit!MotheralwaysharingupanddowntoLondonandbullyingtamedramatiststorewriteplaysforher,andmakingfrightfulfussesaboutnothingatall.Andfathershutupwithhisbooksandsometimesnothearingyouifyouspeaktohim.Idon’tseewhyIshouldhavetobeburdenedwithsuchpeculiarparents.Thenthere’sUncleRoger—alwayssoheartythatitmakesyoushudder.AuntClemency’sallright,shedoesn’tbotheryou,butIsometimesthinkshe’sabitbatty.AuntEdith’snottoobad,butshe’sold.ThingshavebeenabitmorecheerfulsinceSophiacameback—thoughshecanbeprettysharpsometimes.Butitisaqueerhousehold,don’tyouthinkso?Havingastep-grandmotheryoungenoughtobeyourauntoryouroldersister.Imean,itmakesyoufeelanawfulass!”
Ihadsomecomprehensionofhisfeelings.Iremembered(verydimly)myownsupersensitivenessatEustace’sage.Myhorrorofappearinginanywayunusualorofmynearrelativesdepartingfromthenormal.
“Whataboutyourgrandfather?”Isaid.“Wereyoufondofhim?”
AcuriousexpressionflittedacrossEustace’sface.
“Grandfather,”hesaid,“wasdefinitelyantisocial!”
“Inwhatway?”
“Hethoughtofnothingbuttheprofitmotive.Laurencesaysthat’scompletelywrong.Andhewasagreatindividualist.Allthatsortofthinghasgottogo,don’tyouthinkso?”
“Well,”Isaid,ratherbrutally,“hehasgone.”
“Agoodthing,really,”saidEustace.“Idon’twanttobecallous,butyoucan’treallyenjoylifeatthatage!”
“Didn’the?”
“Hecouldn’thave.Anyway,itwastimehewent.He—”
EustacebrokeoffasLaurenceBrowncamebackintotheschoolroom.
Laurencebeganfussingaboutwithsomebooks,butIthoughtthathewaswatchingmeoutofthecornerofhiseye.
Helookedathiswristwatchandsaid:
“Pleasebebackheresharpateleven,Eustace.We’vewastedtoomuchtimethelastfewdays.”
“OK,sir.”
Eustaceloungedtowardsthedoorandwentoutwhistling.
LaurenceBrowndartedanothersharpglanceatme.Hemoistenedhislipsonceortwice.Iwasconvincedthathehadcomebackintotheschoolroomsolelyinordertotalktome.
Presently,afteralittleaimlessstackingandunstackingofbooksandapretenceoflookingforabookthatwasmissing,hespoke:
“Er—Howaretheygettingon?”hesaid.
“They?”
“Thepolice.”
Hisnosetwitched.Amouseinatrap,Ithought,amouseinatrap.
“Theydon’ttakemeintotheirconfidence,”Isaid.
“Oh.IthoughtyourfatherwastheAssistantCommissioner.”
“Heis,”Isaid.“Butnaturallyhewouldnotbetrayofficialsecrets.”
Imademyvoicepurposelypompous.
“Thenyoudon’tknowhow—what—if—”Hisvoicetrailedoff.“They’renotgoingtomakeanarrest,arethey?”
“NotsofarasIknow.Butthen,asIsay,Imightn’tknow.”
Get’emontherun,InspectorTavernerhadsaid.Get’emrattled.Well,LaurenceBrownwasrattledallright.
Hebegantalkingquicklyandnervously.
“Youdon’tknowwhatit’slike…Thestrain…Notknowingwhat—Imean,theyjustcomeandgo—Askingquestions…Questionsthatdon’tseemtohaveanythingtodowiththecase….”
Hebrokeoff.Iwaited.Hewantedtotalk—well,then,lethimtalk.
“YouweretherewhentheChiefInspectormadethatmonstroussuggestiontheotherday?AboutMrs.Leonidesandmyself…Itwasmonstrous.Itmakesonefeelsohelpless.Oneispowerlesstopreventpeoplethinkingthings!Anditisallsowickedlyuntrue.Justbecausesheis—was—somanyyearsyoungerthanherhusband.Peoplehavedreadfulminds—dreadfulminds.Ifeel—Ican’thelpfeeling,thatitisallaplot.”
“Aplot?That’sinteresting.”
Itwasinteresting,thoughnotquiteinthewayhetookit.
“Thefamily,youknow;Mr.Leonides’family,haveneverbeensympathetictome.Theywerealwaysaloof.Ialwaysfeltthattheydespisedme.”
Hishandshadbeguntoshake.
“Justbecausetheyhavealwaysbeenrichand—powerful.Theylookeddownonme.WhatwasItothem?Onlythetutor.Onlyawretchedconscientiousobjector.Andmyobjectionswereconscientious.Theywereindeed!”
Isaidnothing.
“Allrightthen,”heburstout.“WhatifIwas—afraid?AfraidI’dmakeamessofit.AfraidthatwhenIhadtopullatrigger—Imightn’tbeabletobringmyselftodoit.Howcanyoubesureit’saNaziyou’regoingtokill?Itmightbesomedecentlad—somevillageboy—withnopoliticalleanings,justcalledupforhiscountry’sservice.Ibelievewariswrong,doyouunderstand?Ibelieveitiswrong.”
Iwasstillsilent.Ibelievedthatmysilencewasachievingmorethananyargumentsoragreementscoulddo.LaurenceBrownwasarguingwithhimself,andinsodoingwasrevealingagooddealofhimself.
“Everyone’salwayslaughedatme.”Hisvoiceshook.“Iseemtohaveaknackofmakingmyselfridiculous.Itisn’tthatIreallylackcourage—butIalwaysdothethingwrong.Iwentintoaburninghousetorescueawomantheysaidwastrappedthere.ButIlostthewayatonce,andthesmokemademeunconscious,anditgavealotoftroubletothefiremenfindingme.Iheardthemsay,‘Whycouldn’tthesillychumpleaveittous?’It’snogoodmytrying,everyone’sagainstme.WhoeverkilledMr.LeonidesarrangeditsothatIwouldbesuspected.Someonekilledhimsoastoruinme.”
“WhataboutMrs.Leonides?”Iasked.
Heflushed.Hebecamelessofamouseandmorelikeaman.
“Mrs.Leonidesisanangel,”hesaid,“anangel.Hersweetness,herkindnesstoherelderlyhusbandwerewonderful.Tothinkofherinconnectionwithpoisonislaughable—laughable!Andthatthick-headedInspectorcan’tseeit!”
“He’sprejudiced,”Isaid,“bythenumberofcasesonhisfileswhereelderlyhusbandshavebeenpoisonedbysweetyoungwives.”
“Theinsufferabledolt,”saidLaurenceBrownangrily.
Hewentovertoabookcaseinthecornerandbeganrummagingthebooksinit.Ididn’tthinkIshouldgetanythingmoreoutofhim.Iwentslowlyoutoftheroom.
AsIwasgoingalongthepassage,adooronmyleftopenedandJosephinealmostfellontopofme.Herappearancehadthesuddennessofademoninanold-fashionedpantomime.
Herfaceandhandswerefilthyandalargecobwebfloatedfromoneear.
“Wherehaveyoubeen,Josephine?”
Ipeeredthroughthehalf-opendoor.Acoupleofstepsledupintoanattic-likerectangularspaceinthegloomofwhichseverallargetankscouldbeseen.
“Inthecisternroom.”
“Whyinthecisternroom?”
Josephinerepliedinabriefbusinesslikeway:
“Detecting.”
“Whatonearthistheretodetectamongthecisterns?”
Tothis,Josephinemerelyreplied:
“Imustwash.”
“Ishouldsaymostdecidedly.”
Josephinedisappearedthroughthenearestbathroomdoor.Shelookedbacktosay:
“Ishouldsayit’sabouttimeforthenextmurder,wouldn’tyou?”
“Whatdoyoumean—thenextmurder?”
“Well,inbooksthere’salwaysasecondmurderaboutnow.Someonewhoknowssomethingisbumpedoffbeforetheycantellwhattheyknow.”
“Youreadtoomanydetectivestories,Josephine.Reallifeisn’tlikethat.Andifanybodyinthishouseknowssomethingthelastthingtheyseemtowanttodoistotalkaboutit.”
Josephine’sreplycametomeratherobscurelybythegushingofwaterfromatap.
“Sometimesit’ssomethingthattheydon’tknowthattheydoknow.”
IblinkedasItriedtothinkthisout.Then,leavingJosephinetoherablutions,Iwentdowntothefloorbelow.
JustasIwasgoingoutthroughthefrontdoortothestaircase,Brendacamewithasoftrushthroughthedrawingroomdoor.
Shecameclosetomeandlaidherhandonmyarm,lookingupinmyface.
“Well?”sheasked.
ItwasthesamedemandforinformationthatLaurencehadmade,onlyitwasphraseddifferently.Andheronewordwasfarmoreeffective.
Ishookmyhead.
“Nothing,”Isaid.
Shegavealongsigh.
“I’msofrightened,”shesaid.“Charles,I’msofrightened…”
Herfearwasveryreal.Itcommunicateditselftomethereinthatnarrowspace.Iwantedtoreassureher,tohelpher.Ihadoncemorethatpoignantsenseofherasterriblyaloneinhostilesurroundings.
Shemightwellhavecriedout:“Whoisonmyside?”
Andwhatwouldtheanswerhavebeen?LaurenceBrown?Andwhat,afterall,wasLaurenceBrown?Notowerofstrengthinatimeoftrouble.Oneoftheweakervessels.Irememberedthetwoofthemdriftinginfromthegardenthenightbefore.
Iwantedtohelpher.Ibadlywantedtohelpher.ButtherewasnothingmuchIcouldsayordo.AndIhadatthebottomofmymindanembarrassedguiltyfeeling,asthoughSophia’sscornfuleyeswerewatchingme.IrememberedSophia’svoicesaying:“Soshegotyou.”
AndSophiadidnotsee,didnotwanttosee,Brenda’ssideofit.Alone,suspectedofmurder,withnoonetostandbyher.
“Theinquestistomorrow,”Brendasaid.“What—whatwillhappen?”
ThereIcouldreassureher.
“Nothing,”Isaid.“Youneedn’tworryaboutthat.Itwillbeadjournedforthepolicetomakeinquiries.ItwillprobablysetthePressloose,though.Sofar,there’sbeennoindicationinthepapersthatitwasn’tanaturaldeath.TheLeonideshavegotagooddealofinfluence.Butwithanadjournedinquest—well,thefunwillstart.”
(Whatextraordinarythingsonesaid!Thefun!WhymustIchoosethatparticularword?)
“Will—willtheybeverydreadful?”
“Ishouldn’tgiveanyinterviewsifIwereyou.Youknow,Brenda,yououghttohavealawyer—”Sherecoiledwithaterrificgaspofdismay.“No—no—notthewayyoumean.Butsomeonetolookafteryourinterestsandadviseyouastoprocedure,andwhattosayanddo,andwhatnottosayanddo.
“Yousee,”Iadded,“you’reverymuchalone.”
Herhandpressedmyarmmoreclosely.
“Yes,”shesaid.“Youdounderstandthat.You’vehelped,Charles,youhavehelped….”
Iwentdownthestairswithafeelingofwarmth,ofsatisfaction…ThenIsawSophiastandingbythefrontdoor.Hervoicewascoldandratherdry.
“Whatalongtimeyou’vebeen,”shesaid.“TheyrangupforyoufromLondon.Yourfatherwantsyou.”
“AttheYard?”
“Yes.”
“Iwonderwhattheywantmefor.Theydidn’tsay?”
Sophiashookherhead.Hereyeswereanxious.Idrewhertome.
“Don’tworry,darling,”Isaid,“I’llsoonbeback.”
Seventeen
Therewassomethingstrainedintheatmosphereofmyfather’sroom.TheOldMansatbehindhistable,Chief-InspectorTavernerleanedagainstthewindowframe.Inthevisitors’chairsatMr.Gaitskill,lookingruffled.
“—extraordinarywantofconfidence,”hewassayingacidly.
“Ofcourse,ofcourse.”Myfatherspokesoothingly.“Ah,hallo,Charles,you’vemadegoodtime.Ratherasurprisingdevelopmenthasoccurred.”
“Unprecedented,”Mr.Gaitskillsaid.
Somethinghadclearlyruffledthelittlelawyertothecore.Behindhim,Chief-InspectorTavernergrinnedatme.
“IfImayrecapitulate?”myfathersaid.“Mr.Gaitskillreceivedasomewhatsurprisingcommunicationthismorning,Charles.ItwasfromaMr.Agrodopolous,proprietoroftheDelphosRestaurant.Heisaveryoldman,aGreekbybirth,andwhenhewasayoungmanhewashelpedandbefriendedbyAristideLeonides.HehasalwaysremaineddeeplygratefultohisfriendandbenefactoranditseemsthatAristideLeonidesplacedgreatrelianceandtrustinhim.”
“IwouldneverhavebelievedLeonideswasofsuchasuspiciousandsecretivenature,”saidMr.Gaitskill.“Ofcourse,hewasofadvancedyears—practicallyinhisdotage,onemightsay.”
“Nationalitytells,”saidmyfathergently.“Yousee,Gaitskill,whenyouareveryoldyourminddwellsagooddealonthedaysofyouryouthandthefriendsofyouryouth.”
“ButLeonides’affairshadbeeninmyhandsforwelloverfortyyears,”saidMr.Gaitskill.“Forty-threeyearsandsixmonthstobeprecise.”
Tavernergrinnedagain.
“Whathappened?”Iasked.
Mr.Gaitskillopenedhismouth,butmyfatherforestalledhim.
“Mr.AgrodopolousstatedinhiscommunicationthathewasobeyingcertaininstructionsgivenhimbyhisfriendAristideLeonides.Briefly,aboutayearagohehadbeenentrustedbyMr.LeonideswithasealedenvelopewhichMr.AgrodopolouswastoforwardtoMr.GaitskillimmediatelyafterMr.Leonides’death.IntheeventofMr.Agrodopolousdying
“Thewholebusinessismostunprofessional,”saidMr.Gaitskill.
“WhenMr.Gaitskillhadopenedthesealedenvelopeandmadehimselfacquaintedwithitscontents,hedecidedthatitwashisduty—”
“Underthecircumstances,”saidMr.Gaitskill.
“Toletusseetheenclosures.Theyconsistofawill,dulysignedandattested,andacoveringletter.”
“Sothewillhasturnedupatlast?”Isaid.
Mr.Gaitskillturnedabrightpurple.
“Itisnotthesamewill,”hebarked.“ThisisnotthedocumentIdrewupatMr.Leonides’request.Thishasbeenwrittenoutinhisownhand,amostdangerousthingforanylaymantodo.ItseemstohavebeenMr.Leonides’intentiontomakemelookacompletefool.”
Chief-InspectorTavernerendeavouredtoinjectalittlebalmintotheprevailingbitterness.
“Hewasaveryoldgentleman,Mr.Gaitskill,”hesaid.“They’reinclinedtobecrankywhentheygetold,youknow—notbarmy,ofcourse,butjustalittleeccentric.”
Mr.Gaitskillsniffed.
“Mr.Gaitskillrangusup,”myfathersaid,“andapprisedusofthemaincontentsofthewillandIaskedhimtocomeroundandbringthetwodocumentswithhim.Ialsorangyouup,Charles.”
IdidnotquiteseewhyIhadbeenrungup.Itseemedtomesingularlyunorthodoxprocedureonbothmyfather’sandTaverner’spart.Ishouldhavelearntaboutthewillinduecourse,anditwasreallynotmybusinessatallhowoldLeonideshadlefthismoney.
“Isitadifferentwill?”Iasked.“Imean,doesitdisposeofhisestateinadifferentway?”
“Itdoesindeed,”saidMr.Gaitskill.
Myfatherwaslookingatme.Chief-InspectorTavernerwasverycarefullynotlookingatme.Insomeway,Ifeltvaguelyuneasy….
Somethingwasgoingoninboththeirminds—anditwasasomethingtowhichIhadnoclue.
IlookedinquiringlyatGaitskill.
“It’snoneofmybusiness,”Isaid.“But—”
Heresponded.
“Mr.Leonides’testamentarydispositionsarenot,ofcourse,asecret,”hesaid.“Iconceivedittobemydutytolaythefactsbeforethepoliceauthoritiesfirst,andtobeguidedbytheminmysubsequentprocedure.Iunderstand,”hepaused,“thatthereisan—understanding,shallwesay—betweenyouandMissSophiaLeonides?”
“Ihopetomarryher,”Isaid,“butshewillnotconsenttoanengagementatthepresenttime.”
“Veryproper,”saidMr.Gaitskill.
Idisagreedwithhim.Butthiswasnotimeforargument.
“Bythiswill,”saidMr.Gaitskill,“datedNovemberthe29thoflastyear,Mr.Leonides,afterabequesttohiswifeofonehundredthousandpounds,leaveshisentireestate,realandpersonal,tohisgranddaughter,SophiaKatherineLeonidesabsolutely.”
Igasped.WhateverIhadexpected,itwasnotthis.
“HeleftthewholecaboodletoSophia,”Isaid.“Whatanextraordinarything.Anyreason?”
“Hesetouthisreasonsveryclearlyinthecoveringletter,”saidmyfather.Hepickedupasheetofpaperfromthedeskinfrontofhim.“YouhavenoobjectiontoCharlesreadingthis,Mr.Gaitskill?”
“Iaminyourhands,”saidMr.Gaitskillcoldly.“Theletterdoesatleastofferanexplanation—andpossibly(thoughIamdoubtfulastothis)anexcuseforMr.Leonides’extraordinaryconduct.”
TheOldManhandedmetheletter.Itwaswritteninasmallcrabbedhandwritinginveryblackink.Thehandwritingshowedcharacterandindividuality.Itwasnotatalllikethecarefulformingoftheletters,morecharacteristicofabygoneperiod,whenliteracywassomethingpainstakinglyacquiredandcorrespondinglyvalued.
DearGaitskill[itran],Youwillbeastonishedtogetthis,andprobablyoffended.ButIhavemyownreasonsforbehavinginwhatmayseemtoyouanunnecessarilysecretivemanner.Ihavelongbeenabelieverintheindividual.Inafamily(thisIhaveobservedinmyboyhoodandneverforgotten)thereisalwaysonestrongcharacteranditusuallyfallstothisonepersontocarefor,andbeartheburdenof,therestofthefamily.InmyfamilyIwasthatperson.IcametoLondon,establishedmyselfthere,supportedmymotherandmyagedgrandparentsinSmyrna,extricatedoneofmybrothersfromthegripofthelaw,securedthefreedomofmysisterfromanunhappymarriageandsoon.Godhasbeenpleasedtograntmealonglife,andIhavebeenabletowatchoverandcareformyownchildrenandtheirchildren.Manyhavebeentakenfrommebydeath;therest,Iamhappytosay,areundermyroof.WhenIdie,theburdenIhavecarriedmustdescendonsomeoneelse.Ihavedebatedwhethertodividemyfortuneasequallyaspossibleamongstmydearones—buttodosowouldnoteventuallyresultinaproperequality.Menarenotbornequal—tooffsetthenaturalinequalityofNatureonemustredressthebalance.Inotherwords,someonemustbemysuccessor,musttakeuponhimorherselftheburdenofresponsibilityfortherestofthefamily.AftercloseobservationIdonotconsidereitherofmysonsfitforthisresponsibility.MydearlylovedsonRogerhasnobusinesssense,andthoughofalovablenatureistooimpulsivetohavegoodjudgement.MysonPhilipistoounsureofhimselftodoanythingbutretreatfromlife.Eustace,mygrandson,isveryyoungandIdonotthinkhehasthequalitiesofsenseandjudgementnecessary.Heisindolentandveryeasilyinfluencedbytheideasofanyonewhomhemeets.OnlymygranddaughterSophiaseemstometohavethepositivequalitiesrequired.Shehasbrains,judgement,courage,afairandunbiasedmindand,Ithink,generosityofspirit.ToherIcommitthefamilywelfare—andthewelfareofmykindsister-in-lawEdithdeHaviland,forwhoselifelongdevotiontothefamilyIamdeeplygrateful.Thisexplainstheencloseddocument.Whatwillbehardertoexplain—orrathertoexplaintoyou,myoldfriend—isthedeceptionthatIhaveemployed.Ithoughtitwisenottoraisespeculationaboutthedisposalofmymoney,andIhavenointentionoflettingmyfamilyknowthatSophiaistobemyheir.Sincemytwosonshavealreadyhadconsiderablefortunessettleduponthem,Idonotfeelthatmytestamentarydispositionswillplacetheminahumiliatingposition.Tostiflecuriosityandsurmise,Iaskedyoutodrawmeupawill.ThiswillIreadaloudtomyassembledfamily.Ilaiditonmydesk,placedasheetofblottingpaperoveritandaskedfortwoservantstobesummoned.WhentheycameIslidtheblottingpaperupalittle,exposingthebottomofadocument,signedmynameandcausedthemtosigntheirs.IneedhardlysaythatwhatIandtheysignedwasthewillwhichInowencloseandnottheonedraftedbyyouwhichIhadreadaloud.Icannothopethatyouwillunderstandwhatpromptedmetoexecutethistrick.Iwillmerelyaskyoutoforgivemeforkeepingyouinthedark.Averyoldmanlikestokeephislittlesecrets.Thankyou,mydearfriend,fortheassiduitywithwhichyouhavealwaysattendedtomyaffairs.GiveSophiamydearlove.AskhertowatchoverthefamilywellandshieldthemfromharmYoursverysincerelyAristideLeonides.
Ireadthisveryremarkabledocumentwithintenseinterest.
“Extraordinary,”Isaid.
“Mostextraordinary,”saidMr.Gaitskill,rising.“Irepeat,IthinkmyoldfriendMr.Leonidesmighthavetrustedme.”
“No,Gaitskill,”saidmyfather.“Hewasanaturaltwister.Heliked,ifImayputitso,doingthingsthecrookedway.”
“That’sright,sir,”saidChief-InspectorTaverner.“Hewasatwisterifthereeverwasone!”
Hespokewithfeeling.
Gaitskillstalkedoutunmollified.Hehadbeenwoundedtothedepthsofhisprofessionalnature.
“It’shithimhard,”saidTaverner.“Veryrespectablefirm,Gaitskill,Callum&Gaitskill.Nohankypankywiththem.WhenoldLeonidesputthroughadoubtfuldeal,heneverputitthroughwithGaitskill,Callum&Gaitskill.Hehadhalfadozendifferentfirmsofsolicitorswhoactedforhim.Oh,hewasatwister!”
“Andnevermoresothanwhenmakinghiswill,”saidmyfather.
“Wewerefools,”saidTaverner.“Whenyoucometothinkofit,theonlypersonwhocouldhaveplayedtrickswiththatwillwastheoldboyhimself.Itjustneveroccurredtousthathecouldwantto!”
IrememberedJosephine’ssuperiorsmileasshehadsaid:
“Aren’tthepolicestupid?”
ButJosephinehadnotbeenpresentontheoccasionofthewill.Andevenifshehadbeenlisteningoutsidethedoor(whichIwasfullypreparedtobelieve!)shecouldhardlyhaveguessedwhathergrandfatherwasdoing.Why,then,thesuperiorair?Whatdidsheknowthatmadehersaythepolicewerestupid?Orwasit,again,justshowingoff?
StruckbythesilenceintheroomIlookedupsharply—bothmyfatherandTavernerwerewatchingme.Idon’tknowwhattherewasintheirmannerthatcompelledmetoblurtoutdefiantly:
“Sophiaknewnothingaboutthis!Nothingatall.”
“No?”saidmyfather.
Ididn’tquiteknowwhetheritwasanagreementoraquestion.
“She’llbeabsolutelyastounded!”
“Yes?”
“Astounded!”
Therewasapause.Then,withwhatseemedsuddenharshness,thetelephoneonmyfather’sdeskrang.
“Yes?”Heliftedthereceiver—listenedandthensaid:“Putherthrough.”
Helookedatme.
“It’syouryoungwoman,”hesaid.“Shewantstospeaktous.It’surgent.”
Itookthereceiverfromhim.
“Sophia?”
“Charles?Isthatyou?It’s—Josephine!”Hervoicebrokeslightly.
“WhataboutJosephine?”
“She’sbeenhitonthehead.Concussion.She’s—she’sprettybad…Theysayshemaynotrecover….”
Iturnedtotheothertwo.
“Josephine’sbeenknockedout,”Isaid.
Myfathertookthereceiverfromme.Hesaidsharplyashedidso:
“Itoldyoutokeepaneyeonthatchild….”
Eighteen
InnexttonotimeTavernerandIwereracinginafastpolicecarinthedirectionofSwinlyDean.
IrememberedJosephineemerging,fromamongthecisterns,andherairyremarkthatitwas“abouttimeforthesecondmurder.”Thepoorchildhadhadnoideathatsheherselfwaslikelytobethevictimofthe“secondmurder.”
Iacceptedfullytheblamethatmyfatherhadtacitlyascribedtome.OfcourseIoughttohavekeptaneyeonJosephine.ThoughneitherTavernernorIhadanyrealcluetothepoisonerofoldLeonides,itwashighlypossiblethatJosephinehad.WhatIhadtakenforchildishnonsenseand“showingoff”mightverywellhavebeensomethingquitedifferent.Josephine,inherfavouritesportsofsnoopingandprying,mighthavebecomeawareofsomepieceofinformationthatsheherselfcouldnotassessatitspropervalue.
Irememberedthetwigthathadcrackedinthegarden.
Ihadhadaninklingthenthatdangerwasabout.Ihadacteduponitatthemoment,andafterwardsithadseemedtomethatmysuspicionshadbeenmelodramaticandunreal.Onthecontrary,Ishouldhaverealizedthatthiswasmurder,thatwhoeverhadcommittedmurderhadendangeredtheirneck,andthatconsequentlythatsamepersonwouldnothesitatetorepeatthecrimeifbythatwaysafetycouldbeassured.
PerhapsMagda,bysomeobscurematernalinstinct,hadrecognizedthatJosephinewasinperil,andthatmayhavebeenwhatoccasionedhersuddenfeverishhastetogetthechildsenttoSwitzerland
Sophiacameouttomeetusaswearrived.Josephine,shesaid,hadbeentakenbyambulancetoMarketBasingGeneralHospital.Dr.GraywouldletthemknowassoonaspossibletheresultoftheX-ray.
“Howdidithappen?”askedTaverner.
Sophialedthewayroundtothebackofthehouseandthroughadoorinasmalldisusedyard.Inonecorneradoorstoodajar.
“It’sakindofwashhouse,”Sophiaexplained.“There’sacatholecutinthebottomofthedoor,andJosephineusedtostandonitandswingtoandfro.”
Irememberedswingingondoorsinmyownyouth.
Thewashhousewassmallandratherdark.Therewerewoodenboxesinit,someoldhosepipe,afewderelictgardenimplements,andsomebrokenfurniture.Justinsidethedoorwasamarbleliondoorstop.
“It’sthedoorstopperfromthefrontdoor,”Sophiaexplained.“Itmusthavebeenbalancedontopofthedoor.”
Tavernerreachedupahandtothetopofthedoor.Itwasalowdoor,thetopofitonlyaboutafootabovehishead.
“Aboobytrap,”hesaid.
Heswungthedoorexperimentallytoandfro.Thenhestoopedtotheblockofmarblebuthedidnottouchit.
“Hasanyonehandledthis?”
“No,”saidSophia.“Iwouldn’tletanyonetouchit.”
“Quiteright.Whofoundher?”
“Idid.Shedidn’tcomeinforherdinneratoneo’clock.Nanniewascallingher.She’dpassedthroughthekitchenandoutintothestableyardaboutaquarterofanhourbefore.Nanniesaid,‘She’llbebouncingherballorswingingonthatdooragain.’IsaidI’dfetchherin.”
Sophiapaused.
“Shehadahabitofplayinginthatway,yousaid?Whoknewaboutthat?”
Sophiashruggedhershoulders.
“Prettywelleverybodyinthehouse,Ishouldthink.”
“Whoelseusedthewashhouse?Gardeners?”
Sophiashookherhead.
“Hardlyanyoneevergoesintoit.”
“Andthislittleyardisn’toverlookedfromthehouse?”Tavernersummeditup.“Anyonecouldhaveslippedoutfromthehouseorroundthefrontandfixedupthattrapready.Butitwouldbechancy….”
Hebrokeoff,lookingatthedoor,andswingingitgentlytoandfro.
“Nothingcertainaboutit.Hitormiss.Andlikeliermissthanhit.Butshewasunlucky.Withheritwashit.”
Sophiashivered.
Hepeeredatthefloor.Therewerevariousdentsonit.
“Looksasthoughsomeoneexperimentedfirst…toseejusthowitwouldfall…Thesoundwouldn’tcarrytothehouse.”
“No,wedidn’thearanything.We’dnoideaanythingwaswronguntilIcameoutandfoundherlyingfacedown—allsprawledout.”Sophia’svoicebrokealittle.“Therewasbloodonherhair.”
“Thatherscarf?”Tavernerpointedtoacheckedwoollenmufflerlyingonthefloor.
“Yes.”
Usingthescarfhepickeduptheblockofmarblecarefully.
“Theremaybefingerprints,”hesaid,buthespokewithoutmuchhope.“ButIratherthinkwhoeverdiditwas—careful.”Hesaidtome:“Whatareyoulookingat?”
Iwaslookingatabroken-backedwoodenkitchenchairwhichwasamongthederelicts.Ontheseatofitwereafewfragmentsofearth.
“Curious,”saidTaverner.“Someonestoodonthatchairwithmuddyfeet.Nowwhywasthat?”
Heshookhishead.
“Whattimewasitwhenyoufoundher,MissLeonides?”
“Itmusthavebeenfiveminutespastone.”
“AndyourNanniesawhergoingoutabouttwentyminutesearlier.Whowasthelastpersonbeforethatknowntohavebeeninthewashhouse?”
“I’venoidea.ProbablyJosephineherself.Josephinewasswingingonthedoorthismorningafterbreakfast,Iknow.”
Tavernernodded.
“Sobetweenthenandaquartertoonesomeonesetthetrap.Yousaythatbitofmarbleisthedoorstopyouuseforthefrontdoor?Anyideawhenthatwasmissing?”
Sophiashookherhead.
“Thedoorhasn’tbeenproppedopenalltoday.It’sbeentoocold.”
“Anyideawhereeveryonewasallthemorning?”
“Iwentoutforawalk.EustaceandJosephinedidlessonsuntilhalfpasttwelve—withabreakathalfpastten.Father,Ithink,hasbeeninthelibraryallthemorning.”
“Yourmother?”
“ShewasjustcomingoutofherbedroomwhenIcameinfrommywalk—thatwasaboutaquarter-pasttwelve.Shedoesn’tgetupveryearly.”
Wereenteredthehouse.IfollowedSophiatothelibrary.Philip,lookingwhiteandhaggard,satinhisusualchair.Magdacrouchedagainsthisknees,cryingquietly.Sophiaasked:
“Havetheytelephonedyetfromthehospital?”
Philipshookhishead.
Magdasobbed.
“Whywouldn’ttheyletmegowithher?Mybaby—myfunnyuglybaby.AndIusedtocallherachangelingandmakehersoangry.HowcouldIbesocruel?Andnowshe’lldie.Iknowshe’lldie.”
“Hush,mydear,”saidPhilip.“Hush.”
IfeltthatIhadnoplaceinthisfamilysceneofanxietyandgrief.IwithdrewquietlyandwenttofindNannie.Shewassittinginthekitchencryingquietly.
“It’sajudgementonme,Mr.Charles,forthehardthingsI’vebeenthinking.Ajudgement,that’swhatitis.”
Ididnottryandfathomhermeaning.
“There’swickednessinthishouse.That’swhatthereis.Ididn’twishtoseeitorbelieveit.Butseeing’sbelieving.SomebodykilledthemasterandthesamesomebodymusthavetriedtokillJosephine.”
“WhyshouldtheytryandkillJosephine?”
Nannieremovedacornerofherhandkerchieffromhereyeandgavemeashrewdglance.
“Youknowwellenoughwhatshewaslike,Mr.Charles.Shelikedtoknowthings.Shewasalwayslikethat,evenasatinything.Usedtohideunderthedinnertableandlistentothemaidstalkingandthenshe’dholditoverthem.Madeherfeelimportant.Yousee,shewaspassedover,asitwere,bythemistress.Shewasn’tahandsomechild,liketheothertwo.Shewasalwaysaplainlittlething.Achangeling,themistressusedtocallher.Iblamethemistressforthat,forit’smybeliefitturnedthechildsour.Butinafunnysortofwayshegotherownbackbyfindingoutthingsaboutpeopleandlettingthemknowsheknewthem.Butitisn’tsafetodothatwhenthere’sapoisonerabout!”
No,ithadn’tbeensafe.Andthatbroughtsomethingelsetomymind.IaskedNannie:“Doyouknowwhereshekeptalittleblackbook—anotebookofsomekindwheresheusedtowritedownthings?”
“Iknowwhatyoumean,Mr.Charles.Veryslyaboutit,shewas.I’veseenhersuckingherpencilandwritinginthebookandsuckingherpencilagain.And‘don’tdothat,’I’dsay,‘you’llgetleadpoisoning’and‘ohno,Ishan’t,’shesaid,‘becauseitisn’treallyleadinapencil.It’scarbon,’thoughIdon’tseehowthatcouldbesoforifyoucallathingaleadpencilitstandstoreasonthatthat’sbecausethere’sleadinit.”
“You’dthinkso,”Iagreed.“Butasamatteroffactshewasright.”(Josephinewasalwaysright!)“Whataboutthisnotebook?Doyouknowwhereshekeptit?”
“I’venoideaatall,sir.Itwasoneofthethingsshewasslyabout.”
“Shehadn’tgotitwithherwhenshewasfound?”
“Ohno,Mr.Charles,therewasnonotebook.”
Hadsomeonetakenthenotebook?Orhadshehiddenitinherownroom?Theideacametometolookandsee.IwasnotsurewhichJosephine’sroomwas,butasIstoodhesitatinginthepassageTaverner’svoicecalledme:
“Comeinhere,”hesaid.“I’minthekid’sroom.Didyoueverseesuchasight?”
Isteppedoverthethresholdandstoppeddead.
Thesmallroomlookedasthoughithadbeenvisitedbyatornado.Thedrawersofthechestofdrawerswerepulledoutandtheircontentsscatteredonthefloor.Themattressandbeddinghadbeenpulledfromthesmallbed.Therugsweretossedintoheaps.Thechairshadbeenturnedupsidedown,thepicturestakendownfromthewall,thephotographswrenchedoutoftheirframes.
“GoodLord,”Iexclaimed.“Whatwasthebigidea?”
“Whatdoyouthink?”
“Someonewaslookingforsomething.”
“Exactly.”
Ilookedroundandwhistled.
“Butwhoonearth—surelynobodycouldcomeinhereanddoallthisandnotbeheard—orseen?”
“Whynot?Mrs.Leonidesspendsthemorninginherbedroomdoinghernailsandringingupherfriendsonthetelephoneandplayingwithherclothes.Philipsitsinthelibrarybrowsingoverbooks.Thenursewomanisinthekitchenpeelingpotatoesandstringingbeans.Inafamilythatknowseachother’shabitsitwouldbeeasyenough.AndI’lltellyouthis.Anyoneinthehousecouldhavedoneourlittlejob—couldhavesetthetrapforthechildandwreckedherroom.Butitwassomeoneinahurry,someonewhohadn’tthetimetosearchquietly.”
“Anyoneinthehouse,yousay?”
“Yes,I’vecheckedup.Everyonehassometimeorotherunaccountedfor.Philip,Magda,thenurse,yourgirl.Thesameupstairs.Brendaspentmostofthemorningalone.LaurenceandEustacehadahalfhourbreak—fromten-thirtytoeleven—youwerewiththempartofthattime—butnotallofit.MissdeHavilandwasinthegardenalone.Rogerwasinhisstudy.”
“OnlyClemencywasinLondonatherjob.”
“No,evensheisn’toutofit.Shestayedathometodaywithaheadache—shewasaloneinherroomhavingthatheadache.Anyofthem—anyblinkingoneofthem!AndIdon’tknowwhich!I’venoidea.IfIknewwhattheywerelookingforinhere—”
Hiseyeswentroundthewreckedroom….
“AndifIknewwhetherthey’dfoundit….”
Somethingstirredinmybrain—amemory….
Tavernerclincheditbyaskingme:
“Whatwasthekiddoingwhenyoulastsawher?”
“Wait,”Isaid.
Idashedoutoftheroomandupthestairs.Ipassedthroughtheleft-handdoorandwentuptothetopfloor.Ipushedopenthedoorofthecisternroom,mountedthetwostepsandbendingmyhead,sincetheceilingwaslowandsloping,Ilookedroundme.
JosephinehadsaidwhenIaskedherwhatshewasdoingtherethatshewas“detecting.”
Ididn’tseewhattherecouldbetodetectinacobwebbyatticfullofwatertanks.Butsuchanatticwouldmakeagoodhiding-place.IconsidereditprobablethatJosephinehadbeenhidingsomethingthere,somethingthatsheknewquitewellshehadnobusinesstohave.Ifso,itoughtn’ttotakelongtofindit.
Ittookmejustthreeminutes.Tuckedawaybehindthelargesttank,fromtheinteriorofwhichasibilanthissingaddedaneerienotetotheatmosphere,Ifoundapacketofletterswrappedinatornpieceofbrownpaper.
Ireadthefirstletter.
OhLaurence—mydarling,myowndearlove…Itwaswonderfullastnightwhenyouquotedthatverseofpoetry.Iknewitwasmeantforme,thoughyoudidn’tlookatme.Aristidesaid,“Youreadversewell.”Hedidn’tguesswhatwewerebothfeeling.Mydarling,Ifeelconvincedthatsooneverythingwillcomeright.Weshallbegladthatheneverknew,thathediedhappy.He’sbeengoodtome.Idon’twanthimtosuffer.ButIdon’treallythinkthatitcanbeanypleasuretoliveafteryou’reeighty.Ishouldn’twantto!Soonweshallbetogetherforalways.HowwonderfulitwillbewhenIcansaytoyou:“Mydeardearhusband…”Dearest,weweremadeforeachother.Iloveyou,loveyou,loveyou—Icanseenoendtoourlove,I—Therewasagooddealmore,butIhadnowishtogoon.
GrimlyIwentdownstairsandthrustmyparcelintoTaverner’shands.
“It’spossible,”Isaid,“thatthat’swhatourunknownfriendwaslookingfor.”
Tavernerreadafewpassages,whistledandshuffledthroughthevariousletters.
Thenhelookedatmewiththeexpressionofacatwhohasbeenfedwiththebestcream.
“Well,”hesaidsoftly.“ThisprettywellcooksMrs.BrendaLeonides’goose.AndMr.LaurenceBrown’s.Soitwasthem,allthetime….”
Nineteen
Itseemsoddtome,lookingback,howsuddenlyandcompletelymypityandsympathyforBrendaLeonidesvanishedwiththediscoveryofherletters,thelettersshehadwrittentoLaurenceBrown.WasmyvanityunabletostanduptotherevelationthatshelovedLaurenceBrownwithadotingandsugaryinfatuationandhaddeliberatelyliedtome?Idon’tknow.I’mnotapsychologist.IprefertobelievethatitwasthethoughtofthechildJosephine,struckdowninruthlessself-preservation,thatdriedupthespringsofmysympathy.
“Brownfixedthatboobytrap,ifyouaskme,”saidTaverner,“anditexplainswhatpuzzledmeaboutit.”
“Whatdidpuzzleyou?”
“Well,itwassuchasappythingtodo.Lookhere,saythekid’sgotholdoftheseletters—lettersthatareabsolutelydamning!Thefirstthingtodoistotryandgetthemback(afterall,ifthekidtalksaboutthem,buthasgotnothingtoshow,itcanbeputdownasmereromancing),butyoucan’tgetthembackbecauseyoucan’tfindthem.Thentheonlythingtodoistoputthekidoutofactionforgood.You’vedoneonemurderandyou’renotsqueamishaboutdoinganother.Youknowshe’sfondofswingingonadoorinadisusedyard.Theidealthingtodoiswaitbehindthedoorandlayheroutasshecomesthroughwithapoker,oranironbar,oranicebitofhosepipe.They’realltherereadytohand.Whyfiddleaboutwithamarblelionperchedontopofadoorwhichisaslikelyasnottomissheraltogetherandwhichevenifitdoesfallonhermaynotdothejobproperly(whichactuallyishowitturnsout).Iaskyou—why?”
“Well,”Isaid,“what’stheanswer?”
“TheonlyideaIgottobeginwithwasthatitwasintendedtotieinwithsomeone’salibi.SomebodywouldhaveanicefatalibiforthetimewhenJosephinewasbeingslugged.Butthatdoesn’twashbecause,tobeginwith,nobodyseemstohaveanykindofalibi,andsecond,someone’sboundtolookforthechildatlunchtime,andthey’llfindtheboobytrapandthemarbleblock,thewholemodusoperandiwillbequiteplaintosee.Ofcourse,ifthemurdererhadremovedtheblockbeforethechildwasfound,thenwemighthavebeenpuzzled.Butasitisthewholethingjustdoesn’tmakesense.”
Hestretchedouthishands.
“Andwhat’syourpresentexplanation?”
“Thepersonalelement.Personalidiosyncrasy.LaurenceBrown’sidiosyncrasy.Hedoesn’tlikeviolence—hecan’tforcehimselftodophysicalviolence.Heliterallycouldn’thavestoodbehindthedoorandsockedthekidonthehead.Hecouldrigupaboobytrapandgoawayandnotseeithappen.”
“Yes,Isee,”Isaidslowly.“It’stheeserineintheinsulinbottlealloveragain?”
“Exactly.”
“DoyouthinkhedidthatwithoutBrenda’sknowing?”
“Itwouldexplainwhyshedidn’tthrowawaytheinsulinbottle.Ofcourse,theymayhavefixeditupbetweenthem—orshemayhavethoughtupthepoisontrickallbyherself—aniceeasydeathforhertiredoldhusbandandallforthebestinthebestpossibleworlds!ButIbetshedidn’tfixtheboobytrap.Womenneverhaveanyfaithinmechanicalthingsworkingproperly.Andtheyareright.Ithinkmyselftheeserinewasheridea,butthatshemadeherbesottedslavedotheswitch.She’sthekindthatusuallymanagestoavoiddoinganythingequivocalthemselves.Thentheykeepanicehappyconscience.”
Hepaused,thenwenton:
“WiththeselettersIthinktheDPPwillsaywehaveacase.They’lltakeabitofexplainingaway!Then,ifthekidgetsthroughallrighteverythinginthegardenwillbelovely.”Hegavemeasidewaysglance.“Howdoesitfeeltobeengagedtoaboutamillionpoundssterling?”
Iwinced.Intheexcitementofthelastfewhours,Ihadforgottenthedevelopmentsaboutthewill.
“Sophiadoesn’tknowyet,”Isaid.“Doyouwantmetotellher?”
“IunderstandGaitskillisgoingtobreakthesad(orglad)newsaftertheinquesttomorrow.”Tavernerpausedandlookedatmethoughtfully.
“Iwonder,”hesaid,“whatthereactionswillbefromthefamily?”
Twenty
TheinquestwentoffmuchasIhadprophesied.Itwasadjournedattherequestofthepolice.
Wewereingoodspirits,fornewshadcomethroughthenightbeforefromthehospitalthatJosephine’sinjuriesweremuchlessseriousthanhadbeenfearedandthatherrecoverywouldberapid.Forthemoment,Dr.Graysaid,shewastobeallowednovisitors—notevenhermother.
“Particularlynothermother,”Sophiamurmuredtome.“ImadethatquitecleartoDr.Gray.Anyway,heknowsmother.”
Imusthavelookedratherdoubtful,forSophiasaidsharply:
“Whythedisapprovinglook?”
“Well—surelyamother—”
“I’mgladyou’vegotafewniceold-fashionedideas,Charles.Butyoudon’tquiteknowwhatmymotheriscapableofyet.Thedarlingcan’thelpit,buttherewouldsimplyhavetobeagranddramaticscene.Anddramaticscenesaren’tthebestthingsforanyonerecoveringfromheadinjuries.”
“Youdothinkofeverything,don’tyou,mysweet.”
“Well,somebody’sgottodothethinkingnowthatgrandfather’sgone.”
Ilookedatherspeculatively.IsawthatoldLeonides’acumenhadnotdesertedhim.ThemantleofhisresponsibilitieswasalreadyonSophia’sshoulders.
Aftertheinquest,GaitskillaccompaniedusbacktoThreeGables.Heclearedhisthroatandsaidpontifically:
“Thereisanannouncementitismydutytomaketoyouall.”
ForthispurposethefamilyassembledinMagda’sdrawingroom.Ihadonthisoccasiontheratherpleasurablesensationsofthemanbehindthescenes.IknewinadvancewhatGaitskillhadtosay.
Ipreparedmyselftoobservethereactionsofeveryone.
Gaitskillwasbriefanddry.Anysignsofpersonalfeelingandannoyancewerewellheldincheck.HereadfirstAristideLeonides’letterandthenthewillitself.
Itwasveryinterestingtowatch.Ionlywishedmyeyescouldbeeverywhereatonce.
IdidnotpaymuchattentiontoBrendaandLaurence.TheprovisionforBrendainthiswillwasthesame.IwatchedprimarilyRogerandPhilip,andafterthemMagdaandClemency.
Myfirstimpressionwasthattheyallbehavedverywell.
Philip’slipswerepressedcloselytogether,hishandsomeheadwasthrownbackagainstthetallchairinwhichhewassitting.Hedidnotspeak.
Magda,onthecontrary,burstintospeechassoonasMr.Gaitskillfinished,herrichvoicesurgingoverhisthintoneslikeanincomingtidedrowningarivulet.
“DarlingSophia—howextraordinary—howromantic.FancyoldSweetiePiebeingsocunninganddeceitful—justlikeadearoldbaby.Didn’thetrustus?Didhethinkwe’dbecross?HeneverseemedtobefonderofSophiathantherestofus.Butreally,it’smostdramatic.”
SuddenlyMagdajumpedlightlytoherfeet,dancedovertoSophiaandsweptheraverygrandcourtcurtsey.
“MadameSophia,yourpennilessandbroken-down-oldmotherbegsyouforalms.”HervoicetookonaCockneywhine.“Spareusacopper,olddear.YourMawantstogotothepictures.”
Herhand,crookedintoaclaw,twitchedurgentlyatSophia.
Philip,withoutmoving,saidthroughstifflips:
“Please,Magda,there’snocallforanyunnecessaryclowning.”
“Oh,butRoger,”criedMagda,suddenlyturningtoRoger.“PoordarlingRoger.Sweetiewasgoingtocometotherescueandthen,beforehecoulddoit,hedied.AndnowRogerdoesn’tgetanything.Sophia,”sheturnedimperiously,“yousimplymustdosomethingaboutRoger.”
“No,”saidClemency.Shehadmovedforwardastep.Herfacewasdefiant.“Nothing.Nothingatall.”
RogercameshamblingovertoSophialikealargeamiablebear.
Hetookherhandsaffectionately.
“Idon’twantapenny,mydeargirl.Assoonasthisbusinessisclearedup—orhasdieddown,whichismorewhatitlookslike—thenClemencyandIareofftotheWestIndiesandthesimplelife.IfI’meverinextremisI’llapplytotheheadofthefamily”—hegrinnedatherengagingly—“butuntilthenIdon’twantapenny.I’maverysimplepersonreally,mydear—youaskClemencyifI’mnot.”
Anunexpectedvoicebrokein.ItwasEdithdeHaviland’s.
“That’sallverywell,”shesaid.“Butyou’vegottopaysomeattentiontothelookofthething.Ifyougobankrupt,Roger,andthenslinkofftotheendsoftheearthwithoutSophia’sholdingoutahelpinghand,therewillbeagooddealofill-naturedtalkthatwillnotbepleasantforSophia.”
“Whatdoespublicopinionmatter?”askedClemencyscornfully.
“Weknowitdoesn’ttoyou,Clemency,”saidEdithdeHavilandsharply,“butSophialivesinthisworld.She’sagirlwithgoodbrainsandagoodheart,andI’venodoubtthatAristidewasquiterightinhisselectionofhertoholdthefamilyfortunes—thoughtopassoveryourtwosonsintheirlifetimeseemsoddtoourEnglishideas—butIthinkitwouldbeveryunfortunateifitgotaboutthatshebehavedgreedilyoverthis—andhadletRogercrashwithouttryingtohelphim.”
Rogerwentovertohisaunt.Heputhisarmsroundherandhuggedher.
“AuntEdith,”hesaid.“Youareadarling—andastubbornfighter,butyoudon’tbegintounderstand.ClemencyandIknowwhatwewant—andwhatwedon’twant!”
Clemency,asuddenspotofcolourshowingineachthincheek,stooddefiantlyfacingthem.
“Noneofyou,”shesaid,“understandRoger.Youneverhave!Idon’tsupposeyoueverwill!Comeon,Roger.”
TheylefttheroomasMr.Gaitskillbeganclearinghisthroatandarranginghispapers.Hiscountenancewasoneofdeepdisapprobation.Hehaddislikedtheforegoingscenesverymuch.Thatwasclear.
MyeyescameatlasttoSophiaherself.Shestoodstraightandhandsomebythefireplace,herchinup,hereyessteady.Shehadjustbeenleftanimmensefortune,butmyprincipalthoughtwashowaloneshehadsuddenlybecome.Betweenherandherfamilyabarrierhadbeenerected.Henceforthshewasdividedfromthem,andIfanciedthatshealreadyknewandfacedthatfact.OldLeonideshadlaidaburdenuponhershoulders—hehadbeenawareofthatandsheknewitherself.Hehadbelievedthathershoulderswerestrongenoughtobearit,butjustatthismomentIfeltunutterablysorryforher.
Sofarshehadnotspoken—indeedshehadbeengivennochance,butverysoonnowspeechwouldbeforcedfromher.Already,beneaththeaffectionofherfamily,Icouldsenselatenthostility.EveninMagda’sgracefulplayactingtherehadbeen,Ifancied,asubtlemalice.Andtherewereotherdarkerundercurrentsthathadnotyetcometothesurface
Mr.Gaitskill’sthroatclearingsgavewaytopreciseandmeasuredspeech.
“Allowmetocongratulateyou,Sophia,”hesaid.“Youareaverywealthywoman.Ishouldnotadviseany—er—precipitateaction.Icanadvanceyouwhatreadymoneyisneededforcurrentexpenses.IfyouwishtodiscussfuturearrangementsIshallbehappytogiveyouthebestadviceinmypower.MakeanappointmentwithmeatLincoln’sInnwhenyouhavehadplentyoftimetothinkthingsover.”
“Roger,”beganEdithdeHavilandobstinately.
Mr.Gaitskillsnappedinquickly.
“Roger,”hesaid,“mustfendforhimself.He’sagrownman—er,fifty-four,Ibelieve.AndAristideLeonideswasquiteright,youknow.Heisn’tabusinessman.Neverwillbe.”HelookedatSophia.“IfyouputAssociatedCateringonitslegsagain,don’tbeunderanyillusionsthatRogercanrunitsuccessfully.”
“Ishouldn’tdreamofputtingAssociatedCateringonitslegsagain,”saidSophia.
Itwasthefirsttimeshehadspoken.Hervoicewascrispandbusinesslike.
“Itwouldbeanidioticthingtodo,”sheadded.
Gaitskillshotaglanceatherfromunderhisbrows,andsmiledtohimself.Thenhewishedeveryonegoodbyeandwentout.
Therewereafewmomentsofsilence,arealizationthatthefamilycirclewasalonewithitself.
ThenPhilipgotupstiffly.
“Imustgetbacktothelibrary,”hesaid.“Ihavelostalotoftime.”
“Father—”Sophiaspokeuncertainly,almostpleadingly.
IfeltherquiveranddrawbackasPhilipturnedcoldhostileeyesonher.
“Youmustforgivemenotcongratulatingyou,”hesaid.“Butthishasbeenratherashocktome.Iwouldnothavebelievedthatmyfatherwouldhavesohumiliatedme—thathewouldhavedisregardedmylifetime’sdevotion—yes—devotion.”
Forthefirsttime,thenaturalmanbrokethroughthecrustoficyrestraint.
“MyGod,”hecried.“Howcouldhedothistome?Hewasalwaysunfairtome—always.”
“Ohno,Philip,no,youmustn’tthinkthat,”criedEdithdeHaviland.“Don’tregardthisasanotherslight.Itisn’t.Whenpeoplegetold,theyturnnaturallytoayoungergeneration…Iassureyouit’sonlythat…andbesides,Aristidehadaverykeenbusinesssense.I’veoftenheardhimsaythattwolotsofdeathduties—”
“Henevercaredforme,”saidPhilip.Hisvoicewaslowandhoarse.“ItwasalwaysRoger—Roger.Well,atleast”—anextraordinaryexpressionofspitesuddenlymarredhishandsomefeatures—“fatherrealizedthatRogerwasafoolandafailure.HecutRogerout,too.”
“Whataboutme?”saidEustace.
IhadhardlynoticedEustaceuntilnow,butIperceivedthathewastremblingwithsomeviolentemotion.Hisfacewascrimson,therewere,Ithought,tearsinhiseyes.Hisvoiceshookasitrosehysterically.
“It’sashame!”saidEustace.“It’sadamnedshame!Howdaregrandfatherdothistome?Howdarehe?Iwashisonlygrandson.HowdarehepassmeoverforSophia?It’snotfair.Ihatehim.Ihatehim.I’llneverforgivehimaslongasIlive.Beastlytyrannicaloldman.Iwantedhimtodie.Iwantedtogetoutofthishouse.Iwantedtobemyownmaster.AndnowI’vegottobebulliedandmessedaroundbySophia,andbemadetolookafool.IwishIwasdead….”
Hisvoicebrokeandherushedoutoftheroom.
EdithdeHavilandgaveasharpclickofhertongue.
“Noself-control,”shemurmured.
“Iknowjusthowhefeels,”criedMagda.
“I’msureyoudo,”saidEdithwithacidityinhertone.
“Thepoorsweet!Imustgoafterhim.”
“Now,Magda—”Edithhurriedafterher.
Theirvoicesdiedaway.SophiaremainedlookingatPhilip.Therewas,Ithink,acertainpleadinginherglance.Ifso,itgotnoresponse.Helookedathercoldly,quiteincontrolofhimselfoncemore.
“Youplayedyourcardsverywell,Sophia,”hesaidandwentoutoftheroom.
“Thatwasacruelthingtosay,”Icried.“Sophia—”
Shestretchedoutherhandstome.Itookherinmyarms.
“Thisistoomuchforyou,mysweet.”
“Iknowjusthowtheyfeel,”saidSophia.
“Thatolddevil,yourgrandfather,shouldn’thaveletyouinforthis.”
Shestraightenedhershoulders.
“HebelievedIcouldtakeit.AndsoIcan.Iwish—IwishEustacedidn’tmindsomuch.”
“He’llgetoverit.”
“Willhe?Iwonder.He’sthekindthatbroodsterribly.AndIhatefatherbeinghurt.”
“Yourmother’sallright.”
“Shemindsabit.Itgoesagainstthegraintohavetocomeandaskyourdaughterformoneytoputonplays.She’llbeaftermetoputontheEdithThompsononebeforeyoucanturnround.”
“Andwhatwillyousay?Ifitkeepsherhappy….”
Sophiapulledherselfrightoutofmyarms,herheadwentback.
“IshallsayNo!It’sarottenplayandmothercouldn’tplaythepart.Itwouldbethrowingthemoneyaway.”
Ilaughedsoftly.Icouldn’thelpit.
“Whatisit?”Sophiademandedsuspiciously.
“I’mbeginningtounderstandwhyyourgrandfatherleftyouhismoney.You’reachipofftheoldblock,Sophia.”
Twenty-one
MyonefeelingofregretatthistimewasthatJosephinewasoutofitall.Shewouldhaveenjoyeditallsomuch.
Herrecoverywasrapidandshewasexpectedtobebackanydaynow,butneverthelessshemissedanothereventofimportance.
IwasintherockgardenonemorningwithSophiaandBrendawhenacardrewuptothefrontdoor.TavernerandSergeantLambgotoutofit.Theywentupthestepsandintothehouse.
Brendastoodstill,staringatthecar.
“It’sthosemen,”shesaid.“They’vecomeback,andIthoughtthey’dgivenup—Ithoughtitwasallover.”
Isawhershiver.
Shehadjoinedusabouttenminutesbefore.Wrappedinherchinchillacoat,shehadsaid:“IfIdon’tgetsomeairandexercise,Ishallgomad.IfIgooutsidethegatethere’salwaysareporterwaitingtopounceonme.It’slikebeingbesieged.Willitgoonforever?”
Sophiasaidthatshesupposedthereporterswouldsoongettiredofit.
“Youcangooutinthecar,”sheadded.
“ItellyouIwanttogetsomeexercise.”
Thenshesaidabruptly:
“You’regivingLaurencethesack,Sophia.Why?”
Sophiaansweredquietly:
“We’remakingotherarrangementsforEustace.AndJosephineisgoingtoSwitzerland.”
“Well,you’veupsetLaurenceverymuch.Hefeelsyoudon’ttrusthim.”
SophiadidnotreplyanditwasatthatmomentthatTaverner’scarhadarrived.
Standingthere,shiveringinthemoistautumnair,Brendamuttered:“Whatdotheywant?Whyhavetheycome?”
IthoughtIknewwhytheyhadcome.IsaidnothingtoSophiaofthelettersIhadfoundbythecistern,butIknewthattheyhadgonetotheDirectorofPublicProsecutions.
Tavernercameoutofthehouseagain.Hewalkedacrossthedriveandthelawntowardsus.Brendashiveredmoreviolently.
“Whatdoeshewant?”sherepeatednervously.“Whatdoeshewant?”
ThenTavernerwaswithus.Hespokecurtlyinhisofficialvoice,usingtheofficialphrases.
“Ihaveawarranthereforyourarrest—youarechargedwithadministeringeserinetoAristideLeonidesonSeptember19thlast.Imustwarnyouthatanythingyousaymaybeusedinevidenceatyourtrial.”
AndthenBrendawenttopieces.Shescreamed.Sheclungtome.Shecriedout,“No,no,no,itisn’ttrue!Charles,tellthemitisn’ttrue!Ididn’tdoit.Ididn’tknowanythingaboutit.It’sallaplot.Don’tletthemtakemeaway.Itisn’ttrue,Itellyou…Itisn’ttrue….Ihaven’tdoneanything….”
Itwashorrible—unbelievablyhorrible.Itriedtosootheher,Iunfastenedherfingersfrommyarm.ItoldherthatIwouldarrangeforalawyerforher—thatshewastokeepcalm—thatalawyerwouldarrangeeverything—
Tavernertookhergentlyundertheelbow.
“Comealong,Mrs.Leonides,”hesaid.“Youdon’twantahat,doyou?No?Thenwe’llgooffrightaway.”
Shepulledback,staringathimwithenormouscat’seyes.
“Laurence,”shesaid.“WhathaveyoudonetoLaurence?”
“Mr.LaurenceBrownisalsounderarrest,”saidTaverner.
Shewiltedthen.Herbodyseemedtocollapseandshrink.Thetearspoureddownherface.ShewentawayquietlywithTaverneracrossthelawntothecar.IsawLaurenceBrownandSergeantLambcomeoutofthehouse.Theyallgotintothecar.Thecardroveaway.
IdrewadeepbreathandturnedtoSophia.Shewasverypaleandtherewasalookofdistressonherface.
“It’shorrible,Charles,”shesaid.“It’squitehorrible.”
“Iknow.”
“Youmustgetherareallyfirst-classsolicitor—thebestthereis.She—shemusthaveallthehelppossible.”
“Onedoesn’trealize,”Isaid,“whatthesethingsarelike.I’veneverseenanyonearrestedbefore.”
“Iknow.Onehasnoidea.”
Wewerebothsilent.IwasthinkingofthedesperateterroronBrenda’sface.IthadseemedfamiliartomeandsuddenlyIrealizedwhy.ItwasthesameexpressionthatIhadseenonMagdaLeonides’facethefirstdayIhadcometotheCrookedHousewhenshehadbeentalkingabouttheEdithThompsonplay.
“Andthen,”shehadsaid,“sheerterror,don’tyouthinkso?”
Sheerterror—thatwaswhathadbeenonBrenda’sface.Brendawasnotafighter.Iwonderedthatshehadeverhadthenervetodomurder.Butpossiblyshehadnot.PossiblyithadbeenLaurenceBrown,withhispersecutionmania,hisunstablepersonality,whohadputthecontentsofonelittlebottleintoanotherlittlebottle—asimpleeasyact—tofreethewomanheloved.
“Soit’sover,”saidSophia.
Shesigheddeeply,thenasked:
“Butwhyarrestthemnow?Ithoughttherewasn’tenoughevidence.”
“Acertainamountofevidencehascometolight.Letters.”
“Youmeanlovelettersbetweenthem?”
“Yes.”
“Whatfoolspeoplearetokeepthesethings!”
Yes,indeed.Fools.Thekindoffollywhichneverseemedtoprofitbytheexperienceofothers.Youcouldn’topenadailynewspaperwithoutcomingacrosssomeinstanceofthatfolly—thepassiontokeepthewrittenword,thewrittenassuranceoflove.
“It’squitebeastly,Sophia,”Isaid.“Butit’snogoodmindingaboutit.Afterall,it’swhatwe’vebeenhopingallalong,isn’tit?It’swhatyousaidthatfirstnightatMario’s.Yousaiditwouldbeallrightiftherightpersonhadkilledyourgrandfather.Brendawastherightperson,wasn’tshe?BrendaorLaurence?”
“Don’t,Charles,youmakemefeelawful.”
“Butwemustbesensible.Wecanmarrynow,Sophia.Youcan’tholdmeoffanylonger.TheLeonidesfamilyareoutofit.”
Shestaredatme.Ihadneverrealizedbeforethevividblueofhereyes.
“Yes,”shesaid.“Isupposewe’reoutofitnow.Weareoutofit,aren’twe.You’resure?”
“Mydeargirl,noneofyoueverreallyhadashadowofmotive.”
Herfacewentsuddenlywhite.
“Exceptme,Charles.Ihadamotive.”
“Yes,ofcourse—”Iwastakenaback.“Butnotreally.Youdidn’tknow,yousee,aboutthewill.”
“ButIdid,Charles,”shewhispered.
“What?”Istaredather.Ifeltsuddenlycold.
“Iknewallthetimethatgrandfatherhadlefthismoneytome.”
“Buthow?”
“Hetoldme.Aboutafortnightbeforehewaskilled.Hesaidtomequitesuddenly:‘I’veleftallmymoneytoyou,Sophia.YoumustlookafterthefamilywhenI’vegone.’”
Istared.
“Younevertoldme.”
“No.Yousee,whentheyallexplainedaboutthewillandhissigningit,Ithoughtperhapshehadmadeamistake—thathewasjustimaginingthathehadleftittome.Orthatifhehadmadeawillleavingittome,thenithadgotlostandwouldneverturnup.Ididn’twantittoturnup—Iwasafraid.”
“Afraid?Why?”
“Isuppose—becauseofmurder.”
IrememberedthelookofterroronBrenda’sface—thewildunreasoningpanic.IrememberedthesheerpanicthatMagdahadconjuredupatwillwhensheconsideredplayingthepartofamurderess.TherewouldbenopanicinSophia’smind,butshewasarealist,andshecouldseeclearlyenoughthatLeonides’willmadeherasuspect.Iunderstoodbetternow(orthoughtIdid)herrefusaltobecomeengagedtomeandherinsistencethatIshouldfindoutthetruth.Nothingbutthetruth,shehadsaid,wasanygoodtoher.Irememberedthepassion,theearnestnesswithwhichshehadsaidit.
Wehadturnedtowalktowardsthehouseandsuddenly,atacertainspot,Irememberedsomethingelseshehadsaid.
Shehadsaidthatshesupposedshecouldmurdersomeone,butifso,shehadadded,itmustbeforsomethingreallyworthwhile.
Twenty-two
RoundaturnoftherockgardenRogerandClemencycamewalkingbrisklytowardsus.Roger’sflappingtweedssuitedhimbetterthanhisCityclothes.Helookedeagerandexcited.Clemencywasfrowning.
“Hallo,youtwo,”saidRoger.“Atlast!Ithoughttheywerenevergoingtoarrestthatfoulwoman.Whatthey’vebeenwaitingfor,Idon’tknow.Well,they’vepinchedhernow,andhermiserableboyfriend—andIhopetheyhangthemboth.”
Clemency’sfrownincreased.Shesaid:
“Don’tbesouncivilized,Roger.”
“Uncivilized?Bosh!Deliberatecold-bloodedpoisoningofahelplesstrustingoldman—andwhenI’mgladthemurderersarecaughtandwillpaythepenaltyyousayI’muncivilized!ItellyouI’dwillinglystranglethatwomanmyself.”
Headded:
“Shewaswithyou,wasn’tshe,whenthepolicecameforher?Howdidshetakeit?”
“Itwashorrible,”saidSophiainalowvoice.“Shewasscaredoutofherwits.”
“Serveherright.”
“Don’tbevindictive,”saidClemency
“Oh,Iknow,dearest,butyoucan’tunderstand.Itwasn’tyourfather.Ilovedmyfather.Don’tyouunderstand?Ilovedhim!”
“Ishouldunderstandbynow,”saidClemency.
Rogersaidtoher,half-jokingly:
“You’venoimagination,Clemency.SupposeithadbeenIwhohadbeenpoisoned—?”
Isawthequickdroopofherlids,herhalf-clenchedhands.Shesaidsharply:“Don’tsaythingslikethateveninfun.”
“Nevermind,darling,we’llsoonbeawayfromallthis.”
Wemovedtowardsthehouse.RogerandSophiawalkedaheadandClemencyandIbroughtuptherear.Shesaid:
“Isupposenow—they’llletusgo?”
“Areyousoanxioustogetoff?”Iasked.
“It’swearingmeout.”
Ilookedatherinsurprise.Shemetmyglancewithafaintdesperatesmileandanodofthehead.
“Haven’tyouseen,Charles,thatI’mfightingallthetime?Fightingformyhappiness.ForRoger’s.I’vebeensoafraidthefamilywouldpersuadehimtostopinEngland.Thatwe’dgoontangledupinthemidstofthem,stifledwithfamilyties.IwasafraidSophiawouldofferhimanincomeandthathe’dstayinEnglandbecauseitwouldmeangreatercomfortandamenitiesforme.ThetroublewithRogeristhathewillnotlisten.Hegetsideasinhishead—andthey’renevertherightideas.Hedoesn’tknowanything.Andhe’senoughofaLeonidestothinkthathappinessforawomanisboundupwithcomfortandmoney.ButIwillfightformyhappiness—Iwill.IwillgetRogerawayandgivehimthelifethatsuitshimwherehewon’tfeelafailure.Iwanthimtomyself—awayfromthemall—rightaway—”
Shehadspokeninalowhurriedvoicewithakindofdesperationthatstartledme.Ihadnotrealizedhowmuchonedgeshewas.Ihadnotrealized,either,quitehowdesperateandpossessivewasherfeelingforRoger.
ItbroughtbacktomymindthatoddquotationofEdithdeHaviland’s.Shehadquotedtheline“thissideidolatry”withapeculiarintonation.IwonderedifshehadbeenthinkingofClemency.
Roger,Ithought,hadlovedhisfatherbetterthanhewouldeverloveanyoneelse,bettereventhanhiswife,devotedthoughhewastoher.IrealizedforthefirsttimehowurgentwasClemency’sdesiretogetherhusbandtoherself.LoveforRoger,Isaw,madeupherentireexistence.Hewasherchild,aswellasherhusbandandherlover.
Acardroveuptothefrontdoor.
“Hallo,”Isaid.“Here’sJosephineback.”
JosephineandMagdagotoutofthecar.Josephinehadabandageroundherheadbutotherwiselookedremarkablywell.
Shesaidatonce:
“Iwanttoseemygoldfish,”andstartedtowardsusandthepond.
“Darling,”criedMagda,“you’dbettercomeinfirstandliedownalittle,andperhapshavealittlenourishingsoup.”
“Don’tfuss,Mother,”saidJosephine.“I’mquiteallright,andIhatenourishingsoup.”
Magdalookedirresolute.IknewthatJosephinehadreallybeenfittodepartfromthehospitalforsomedays,andthatitwasonlyahintfromTavernerthathadkeptherthere.HewastakingnochancesonJosephine’ssafetyuntilhissuspectsweresafeunderlockandkey.
IsaidtoMagda:
“Idaresayfreshairwilldohergood.I’llgoandkeepaneyeonher.”
IcaughtJosephineupbeforeshegottothepond.
“Allsortsofthingshavebeenhappeningwhileyou’vebeenaway,”Isaid.
Josephinedidnotreply.Shepeeredwithhershortsightedeyesintothepond.
“Idon’tseeFerdinand,”shesaid.
“WhichisFerdinand?”
“Theonewithfourtails.”
“Thatkindisratheramusing.Ilikethatbrightgoldone.”
“It’squiteacommonone.”
“Idon’tmuchcareforthatmoth-eatenwhiteone.”
Josephinecastmeascornfulglance.
“That’sashebunkin.Theycostalot—farmorethangoldfish.”
“Don’tyouwanttohearwhat’sbeenhappening,Josephine?”
“IexpectIknowaboutit.”
“DidyouknowthatanotherwillhasbeenfoundandthatyourgrandfatherleftallhismoneytoSophia?”
Josephinenoddedinaboredkindofway
“Mothertoldme.Anyway,Iknewitalready.”
“Doyoumeanyouhearditinhospital?”
“No,ImeanIknewthatgrandfatherhadlefthismoneytoSophia.Iheardhimtellherso.”
“Wereyoulisteningagain?”
“Yes.Ilikelistening.”
“It’sadisgracefulthingtodo,andrememberthis,listenershearnogoodofthemselves.”
Josephinegavemeapeculiarglance.
“Iheardwhathesaidaboutmetoher,ifthat’swhatyoumean.”
Sheadded:
“Nanniegetswildifshecatchesmelisteningatdoors.Shesaysit’snotthesortofthingalittleladydoes.”
“She’squiteright.”
“Pooh,”saidJosephine.“Nobody’saladynowadays.TheysaidsoontheBrainsTrust.Theysaiditwasob-so-lete.”Shepronouncedthewordcarefully.
Ichangedthesubject.
“You’vegothomeabitlateforthebigevent,”Isaid.“Chief-InspectorTavernerhasarrestedBrendaandLaurence.”
IexpectedthatJosephine,inhercharacterofyoungdetective,wouldbethrilledbythisinformation,butshemerelyrepeatedinhermaddeningboredfashion:
“Yes,Iknow.”
“Youcan’tknow.It’sonlyjusthappened.”
“Thecarpassedusontheroad.InspectorTavernerandthedetectivewiththesuedeshoeswereinsidewithBrendaandLaurence,soofcourseIknewtheymusthavebeenarrested.Ihopehegavethemthepropercaution.Youhaveto,youknow.”
IassuredherthatTavernerhadactedstrictlyaccordingtoetiquette.
“Ihadtotellhimabouttheletters,”Isaidapologetically.“Ifoundthembehindthecistern.I’dhaveletyoutellhimonlyyouwereknockedout.”
Josephine’shandwentgingerlytoherhead.
“Ioughttohavebeenkilled,”shesaidwithcomplacency.“Itoldyouitwasabouttimeforthesecondmurder.Thecisternwasarottenplacetohidethoseletters.IguessedatoncewhenIsawLaurencecomingoutofthereoneday.Imeanhe’snotausefulkindofmanwhodoesthingswithballtaps,orpipesorfuses,soIknewhemusthavebeenhidingsomething.”
“ButIthought—”IbrokeoffasEdithdeHaviland’svoicecalledauthoritatively:
“Josephine,Josephine,comehereatonce.”
Josephinesighed.
“Morefuss,”shesaid.“ButI’dbettergo.Youhaveto,ifit’sAuntEdith.”
Sheranacrossthelawn.Ifollowedmoreslowly.
AfterabriefinterchangeofwordsJosephinewentintothehouse.IjoinedEdithdeHavilandontheterrace.
Thismorningshelookedfullyherage.Iwasstartledbythelinesofwearinessandsufferingonherface.Shelookedexhaustedanddefeated.Shesawtheconcerninmyfaceandtriedtosmile.
“Thatchildseemsnonetheworseforheradventure,”shesaid.“Wemustlookafterherbetterinfuture.Still—Isupposenowitwon’tbenecessary?”
Shesighedandsaid:
“I’mgladit’sover.Butwhatanexhibition!Ifyouarearrestedformurder,youmightatleasthavesomedignity.I’venopatiencewithpeoplelikeBrendawhogotopiecesandsqueal.Noguts,thesepeople.LaurenceBrownlookedlikeacorneredrabbit.”
Anobscureinstinctofpityroseinme.
“Poordevils,”Isaid.
“Yes—poordevils.She’llhavethesensetolookafterherself,Isuppose?Imeantherightlawyers—allthatsortofthing.”
Itwasqueer,Ithought,thedisliketheyallhadforBrenda,andtheirscrupulouscareforhertohavealltheadvantagesfordefence.
EdithdeHavilandwenton:
“Howlongwillitbe?Howlongwillthewholethingtake?”
IsaidIdidn’tknowexactly.Theywouldbechargedatthepolicecourtandpresumablysentfortrial.Threeorfourmonths,Iestimated—andifconvicted,therewouldbetheappeal.
“Doyouthinktheywillbeconvicted?”sheasked.
“Idon’tknow.Idon’tknowexactlyhowmuchevidencethepolicehave.Thereareletters.”
“Loveletters—Theywereloversthen?”
“Theywereinlovewitheachother.”
Herfacegrewgrimmer.
“I’mnothappyaboutthis,Charles.Idon’tlikeBrenda.Inthepast,I’vedislikedherverymuch.I’vesaidsharpthingsabouther.Butnow—IdofeelthatIwanthertohaveeverychance—everypossiblechance.Aristidewouldhavewishedthat.Ifeelit’suptometoseethat—thatBrendagetsasquaredeal.”
“AndLaurence?”
“Oh,Laurence!”sheshruggedhershouldersimpatiently.“Menmustlookafterthemselves.ButAristidewouldneverforgiveusif—”Sheleftthesentenceunfinished.
Thenshesaid:
“Itmustbealmostlunchtime.We’dbettergoin.”
IexplainedthatIwasgoinguptoLondon.
“Inyourcar?”
“Yes.”
“H’m.Iwonderifyou’dtakemewithyou.Igatherwe’reallowedofftheleadnow.”
“OfcourseIwill,butIbelieveMagdaandSophiaaregoingupafterlunch.You’llbemorecomfortablewiththemthaninmytwo-seater.”
“Idon’twanttogowiththem.Takemewithyou,anddon’tsaymuchaboutit.”
Iwassurprised,butIdidassheasked.Wedidnotspeakmuchonthewaytotown.IaskedherwhereIshouldputherdown.
“HarleyStreet.”
Ifeltsomefaintapprehension,butIdidn’tliketosayanything.Shecontinued:
“No,it’stooearly.DropmeatDebenhams.IcanhavesomelunchthereandgotoHarleyStreetafterwards.”
“Ihope—”Ibeganandstopped.
“That’swhyIdidn’twanttogoupwithMagda.Shedramatizesthings.Lotsoffuss.”
“I’mverysorry,”Isaid.
“Youneedn’tbe.I’vehadagoodlife.Averygoodlife.”Shegaveasuddengrin.“Andit’snotoveryet.”
Twenty-three
Ihadnotseenmyfatherforsomedays.IfoundhimbusywiththingsotherthantheLeonidescase,andIwentinsearchofTaverner.
Tavernerwasenjoyingashortspellofleisureandwaswillingtocomeoutandhaveadrinkwithme.Icongratulatedhimonhavingclearedupthecaseandheacceptedmycongratulation,buthismannerremainedfarfromjubilant.
“Well,that’sover,”hesaid.“We’vegotacase.Nobodycandenywe’vegotacase.”
“Doyouthinkyou’llgetaconviction?”
“Impossibletosay.Theevidenceiscircumstantial—itnearlyalwaysisinamurdercase—boundtobe.Alotdependsontheimpressiontheymakeonthejury.”
“Howfardothelettersgo?”
“Atfirstsight,Charles,they’reprettydamning.Therearereferencestotheirlifetogetherwhenherhusband’sdead.Phraseslike—‘itwon’tbelongnow.’Mindyou,defencecounselwilltryandtwistittheotherway—thehusbandwassooldthatofcoursetheycouldreasonablyexpecthimtodie.There’snoactualmentionofpoisoning—notdowninblackandwhite—buttherearesomepassagesthatcouldmeanthat.Itdependswhatjudgeweget.Ifit’soldCarberryhe’llbedownonthemallthrough.He’salwaysveryrighteousaboutillicitlove.Isupposethey’llhaveEaglesorHumphreyKerrforthedefence—Humphreyismagnificentinthesecases—buthelikesagallantwarrecordorsomethingofthatkindtohelphimdohisstuff.Aconscientiousobjectorisgoingtocramphisstyle.Thequestionisgoingtobewillthejurylikethem?Youcannevertellwithjuries.Youknow,Charles,thosetwoarenotreallysympatheticcharacters.She’sagood-lookingwomanwhomarriedaveryoldmanforhismoney,andBrownisaneuroticconscientiousobjector.Thecrimeissofamiliar—soaccordingtopatternthatyoureallybelievetheydidn’tdoit.Ofcourse,theymaydecidethathediditandsheknewnothingaboutit—oralternatelythatshedidit,andhedidn’tknowaboutit—ortheymaydecidethattheywerebothinittogether.”
“Andwhatdoyouyourselfthink?”Iasked.
Helookedatmewithawoodenexpressionlessface.
“Idon’tthinkanything.I’veturnedinthefactsandtheywenttotheDPPanditwasdecidedthattherewasacase.That’sall.I’vedonemydutyandI’moutofit.Sonowyouknow,Charles.”
ButIdidn’tknow.IsawthatforsomereasonTavernerwasunhappy.
ItwasnotuntilthreedayslaterthatIunburdenedmyselftomyfather.Hehimselfhadnevermentionedthecasetome.Therehadbeenakindofrestraintbetweenus—andIthoughtIknewthereasonforit.ButIhadtobreakdownthatbarrier.
“We’vegottohavethisout,”Isaid.“Taverner’snotsatisfiedthatthosetwodidit—andyou’renotsatisfiedeither.”
Myfathershookhishead.HesaidwhatTavernerhadsaid:“It’soutofourhands.Thereisacasetoanswer.Noquestionaboutthat.”
“Butyoudon’t—Tavernerdoesn’t—thinkthatthey’reguilty?”
“That’sforajurytodecide.”
“ForGod’ssake,”Isaid,“don’tputmeoffwithtechnicalterms.Whatdoyouthink—bothofyou—personally?”
“Mypersonalopinionisnobetterthanyours,Charles.”
“Yes,itis.You’vemoreexperience.”
“ThenI’llbehonestwithyou.Ijust—don’tknow!”
“Theycouldbeguilty?”
“Oh,yes.”
“Butyoudon’tfeelsurethattheyare?”
Myfathershruggedhisshoulders.
“Howcanonebesure?”
“Don’tfencewithme,Dad.You’vebeensureothertimes,haven’tyou?Deadsure?Nodoubtinyourmindatall?”
“Sometimes,yes.Notalways.”
“IwishtoGodyouweresurethistime.”
“SodoI.”
Weweresilent.Iwasthinkingofthosetwofiguresdriftinginfromthegardeninthedusk.Lonelyandhauntedandafraid.Theyhadbeenafraidfromthestart.Didn’tthatshowaguiltyconscience?
ButIansweredmyself:“Notnecessarily.”BothBrendaandLaurencewereafraidoflife—theyhadnoconfidenceinthemselves,intheirabilitytoavoiddangeranddefeat,andtheycouldsee,onlytooclearly,thepatternofillicitloveleadingtomurderwhichmightinvolvethematanymoment.
Myfatherspoke,andhisvoicewasgraveandkind:
“Come,Charles,”hesaid,“let’sfaceit.You’vestillgotitinyourmind,haven’tyou,thatoneoftheLeonidesfamilyistherealculprit?”
“Notreally.Ionlywonder—”
“Youdothinkso.Youmaybewrong,butyoudothinkso.”
“Yes,”Isaid.
“Why?”
“Because”—Ithoughtaboutit,tryingtoseeclearly—tobringmywitstobear—“because”(yes,thatwasit),“becausetheythinksothemselves.”
“Theythinksothemselves?That’sinteresting.That’sveryinteresting.Doyoumeanthattheyallsuspecteachother,orthattheyknow,actually,whodiddoit?”
“I’mnotsure,”Isaid.“It’sallverynebulousandconfused.Ithink—onthewhole—thattheytrytocoveruptheknowledgefromthemselves.”
Myfathernodded.
“NotRoger,”Isaid.“RogerwholeheartedlybelievesitwasBrendaandhewholeheartedlywantsherhanged.It’s—it’sarelieftobewithRoger,becausehe’ssimpleandpositive,andhasn’tanyreservationsinthebackofhismind.
“Buttheothersareapologetic,they’reuneasy—theyurgemetobesurethatBrendahasthebestdefence—thateverypossibleadvantageisgivenher—why?”
Myfatheranswered:“Becausetheydon’treally,intheirhearts,believesheisguilty…Yes,that’ssound.”
Thenheaskedquietly:
“Whocouldhavedoneit?You’vetalkedtothemall?Who’sthebestbet?”
“Idon’tknow,”Isaid.“Andit’sdrivingmefrantic.Noneofthemfitsyour‘sketchofamurderer’andyetIfeel—Idofeel—thatoneofthemisamurderer.”
“Sophia?”
“No.GoodGod,no!”
“Thepossibility’sinyourmind,Charles—yes,itis,don’tdenyit.Allthemorepotentlybecauseyouwon’tacknowledgeit.Whatabouttheothers?Philip?”
“Onlyforthemostfantasticmotive.”
“Motivescanbefantastic—ortheycanbeabsurdlyslight.What’shismotive?”
“HeisbitterlyjealousofRoger—alwayshasbeenallhislife.Hisfather’spreferenceforRogerdrovePhilipinuponhimself.Rogerwasabouttocrash,thentheoldmanheardofit.HepromisedtoputRogeronhisfeetagain.SupposingPhiliplearntthat.IftheoldmandiedthatnighttherewouldbenoassistanceforRoger.Rogerwouldbedownandout.Oh!Iknowit’sabsurd—”
“Ohno,itisn’t.It’sabnormal,butithappens.It’shuman.WhataboutMagda?”
“She’sratherchildish.She—shegetsthingsoutofproportion.ButIwouldneverhavethoughttwiceaboutherbeinginvolvedifithadn’tbeenforthesuddenwayshewantedtopackJosephineofftoSwitzerland.Icouldn’thelpfeelingshewasafraidofsomethingthatJosephineknewormightsay—”
“AndthenJosephinewasconkedonthehead?”
“Well,thatcouldn’tbehermother!”
“Whynot?”
“ButDad,amotherwouldn’t—”
“Charles,Charles,don’tyoueverreadthepolicenews?Againandagainamothertakesadisliketooneofherchildren.Onlyone—shemaybedevotedtotheothers.There’ssomeassociation,somereason,butit’softenhardtogetat.Butwhenitexists,it’sanunreasoningaversion,andit’sverystrong.”
“ShecalledJosephineachangeling,”Iadmittedunwillingly.
“Didthechildmind?”
“Idon’tthinkso.”
“Whoelseisthere?Roger?”
“Rogerdidn’tkillhisfather.I’mquitesureofthat.”
“WashoutRogerthen.Hiswife—what’shername—Clemency?”
“Yes,”Isaid.“IfshekilledoldLeonidesitwasforaveryoddreason.”
ItoldhimofmyconversationwithClemency.IsaidIthoughtitpossiblethatinherpassiontogetRogerawayfromEnglandshemighthavedeliberatelypoisonedtheoldman.
“ShepersuadedRogertogowithouttellinghisfather.Thentheoldmanfoundout.HewasgoingtobackupAssociatedCatering.AllClemency’shopesandplanswerefrustrated.AndshereallydoescaredesperatelyforRoger—beyondidolatry.”
“You’rerepeatingwhatEdithdeHavilandsaid!”
“Yes.AndEdith’sanotherwhomIthink—mighthavedoneit.ButIdon’tknowwhy.Icanonlybelievethatforwhatsheconsideredagoodandsufficientreasonshemighttakethelawintoherownhands.She’sthatkindofperson.”
“AndshealsowasveryanxiousthatBrendashouldbeadequatelydefended?”
“Yes.That,Isuppose,mightbeconscience.Idon’tthinkforamomentthatifshediddoit,sheintendedthemtobeaccusedofthecrime.”
“Probablynot.Butwouldsheknockoutthechild,Josephine?”
“No,”Isaidslowly.“Ican’tbelievethat.Whichremindsmethatthere’ssomethingthatJosephinesaidtomethatkeepsnaggingatmymind,andIcan’trememberwhatitis.It’sslippedmymemory.Butit’ssomethingthatdoesn’tfitinwhereitshould.IfonlyIcouldremember—”
“Nevermind.Itwillcomeback.Anythingoranyoneelseonyourmind?”
“Yes,”Isaid.“Verymuchso.Howmuchdoyouknowaboutinfantileparalysis.Itsaftereffectsoncharacter,Imean?”
“Eustace?”
“Yes.ThemoreIthinkaboutit,themoreitseemstomethatEustacemightfitthebill.Hisdislikeandresentmentagainsthisgrandfather.Hisqueernessandmoodiness.He’snotnormal.
“He’stheonlyoneofthefamilywhoIcanseeknockingoutJosephinequitecallouslyifsheknewsomethingabouthim—andshe’squitelikelytoknow.Thatchildknowseverything.Shewritesitdowninalittlebook—”
Istopped.
“GoodLord,”Isaid.“WhatafoolIam.”
“What’sthematter?”
“Iknownowwhatwaswrong.Weassumed,TavernerandI,thatthewreckingofJosephine’sroom,thefranticsearch,wasforthoseletters.Ithoughtthatshe’dgotholdofthemandthatshe’dhiddenthemupinthecisternroom.ButwhenshewastalkingtometheotherdayshemadeitquiteclearthatitwasLaurencewhohadhiddenthemthere.Shesawhimcomingoutofthecisternroomandwentsnoopingaroundandfoundtheletters.Then,ofcourse,shereadthem.Shewould!Butsheleftthemwheretheywere.”
“Well?”
“Don’tyousee?Itcouldn’thavebeentheletterssomeonewaslookingforinJosephine’sroom.Itmusthavebeensomethingelse.”
“Andthatsomething—”
“Wasthelittleblackbookshewritesdownher‘detection’in.That’swhatsomeonewaslookingfor!Ithink,too,thatwhoeveritwasdidn’tfindit.IthinkJosephinestillhasit.Butifso—”
Ihalfrose.
“Ifso,”saidmyfather,“shestillisn’tsafe.Isthatwhatyouweregoingtosay?”
“Yes.Shewon’tbeoutofdangeruntilshe’sactuallystartedforSwitzerland.They’replanningtosendherthere,youknow.”
“Doesshewanttogo?”
Iconsidered.
“Idon’tthinkshedoes.”
“Thensheprobablyhasn’tgone,”saidmyfather,drily.“ButIthinkyou’rerightaboutthedanger.You’dbettergodownthere.”
“Eustace?”Icrieddesperately.“Clemency?”
Myfathersaidgently:
“Tomymindthefactspointclearlyinonedirection…Iwonderyoudon’tseeityourself.I….”
Gloveropenedthedoor.
“Begpardon,Mr.Charles,thetelephone.MissLeonidesspeakingfromSwinlyDean.It’surgent.”
Itseemedlikeahorriblerepetition.HadJosephineagainfallenavictim.Andhadthemurdererthistimemadenomistake…?
Ihurriedtothetelephone.
“Sophia?It’sCharleshere.”
Sophia’svoicecamewithakindofharddesperationinit.“Charles,itisn’tallover.Themurdererisstillhere.”
“Whatonearthdoyoumean?Whatiswrong?Isit—Josephine?”
“It’snotJosephine.It’sNannie.”
“Nannie?”
“Yes,therewassomecocoa—Josephine’scocoa,shedidn’tdrinkit.Sheleftitonthetable.Nanniethoughtitwasapitytowasteit.Soshedrankit.”
“PoorNannie.Issheverybad?”
Sophia’svoicebroke.
“Oh,Charles,she’sdead.”
Twenty-four
Wewerebackagaininthenightmare.
ThatiswhatIthoughtasTavernerandIdroveoutofLondon.Itwasarepetitionofourformerjourney.
Atintervals,Tavernerswore.
Asforme,Irepeatedfromtimetotime,stupidly,unprofitably:“Soitwasn’tBrendaandLaurence.Itwasn’tBrendaandLaurence.”
HadIreallythoughtitwas?Ihadbeensogladtothinkit.Sogladtoescapefromother,moresinister,possibilities….
Theyhadfalleninlovewitheachother.Theyhadwrittensillysentimentalromanticletterstoeachother.TheyhadindulgedinhopesthatBrenda’soldhusbandmightsoondiepeacefullyandhappily—butIwonderedreallyiftheyhadevenacutelydesiredhisdeath.Ihadafeelingthatthedespairsandlongingsofanunhappyloveaffairsuitedthem
Theyhadbeencaughtinatrapand,terrified,theyhadnothadthewittofindtheirwayout.Laurence,withincrediblestupidity,hadnotevendestroyedBrenda’sletters.PresumablyBrendahaddestroyedhis,sincetheyhadnotbeenfound.AnditwasnotLaurencewhohadbalancedthemarbledoorstoponthewashhousedoor.Itwassomeoneelsewhosefacewasstillhiddenbehindamask.
Wedroveuptothedoor.TavernergotoutandIfollowedhim.TherewasaplainclothesmaninthehallwhomIdidn’tknow.HesalutedTavernerandTavernerdrewhimaside.
Myattentionwastakenbyapileofluggageinthehall.Itwaslabelledandreadyfordeparture.AsIlookedatitClemencycamedownthestairsandthroughtheopendooratthebottom.Shewasdressedinhersamereddresswithatweedcoatoveritandaredfelthat.
“You’reintimetosaygoodbye,Charles,”shesaid.
“You’releaving?”
“WegotoLondontonight.Ourplanegoesearlytomorrowmorning.”
Shewasquietandsmiling,butIthoughthereyeswerewatchful.
“Butsurelyyoucan’tgonow?”
“Whynot?”Hervoicewashard.
“Withthisdeath—”
“Nannie’sdeathhasnothingtodowithus.”
“Perhapsnot.Butallthesame—”
“Whydoyousay‘perhapsnot’?Ithasnothingtodowithus.RogerandIhavebeenupstairs,finishingpackingup.Wedidnotcomedownatallduringthetimethatthecocoawasleftonthehalltable.”
“Canyouprovethat?”
“IcananswerforRoger.AndRogercananswerforme.”
“Nomorethanthat…You’remanandwife,remember.”
Herangerflamedout.
“You’reimpossible,Charles!RogerandIaregoingaway—toleadourownlife.Whyonearthshouldwewanttopoisonanicestupidoldwomanwhohadneverdoneusanyharm?”
“Itmightn’thavebeenheryoumeanttopoison.”
“Stilllessarewelikelytopoisonachild.”
“Itdependsratheronthechild,doesn’tit?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Josephineisn’tquitetheordinarychild.Sheknowsagooddealaboutpeople.She—”
Ibrokeoff.Josephinehademergedfromthedoorleadingtothedrawingroom.Shewaseatingtheinevitableapple,andoveritsroundrosinesshereyessparkledwithakindofghoulishenjoyment.
“Nannie’sbeenpoisoned,”shesaid.“Justlikegrandfather.It’sawfullyexciting,isn’tit?”
“Aren’tyouatallupsetaboutit?”Idemandedseverely.“Youwerefondofher,weren’tyou?”
“Notparticularly.Shewasalwaysscoldingmeaboutsomethingorother.Shefussed.”
“Areyoufondofanybody,Josephine?”askedClemency.
JosephineturnedherghoulisheyestowardsClemency.
“IloveAuntEdith,”shesaid.“IloveAuntEdithverymuch.AndIcouldloveEustace,onlyhe’salwayssuchabeasttomeandwon’tbeinterestedinfindingoutwhodidallthis.”
“You’dbetterstopfindingthingsout,Josephine,”Isaid.“Itisn’tverysafe.”
“Idon’tneedtofindoutanymore,”saidJosephine.“Iknow.”
Therewasamoment’ssilence.Josephine’seyes,solemnandunwinking,werefixedonClemency.Asoundlikealongsighreachedmyears.Iswungsharplyround.EdithdeHavilandstoodhalfwaydownthestaircase—butIdidnotthinkitwasshewhohadsighed.ThesoundhadcomefrombehindthedoorthroughwhichJosephinehadjustcome.
Isteppedsharplyacrosstoitandyankeditopen.Therewasnoonetobeseen
NeverthelessIwasseriouslydisturbed.SomeonehadstoodjustwithinthatdoorandhadheardthosewordsofJosephine’s.IwentbackandtookJosephinebythearm.ShewaseatingherappleandstaringstolidlyatClemency.Behindthesolemnitytherewas,Ithought,acertainmalignantsatisfaction.
“Comeon,Josephine,”Isaid.“We’regoingtohavealittletalk.”
IthinkJosephinemighthaveprotested,butIwasnotstandinganynonsense.Iranheralongforciblyintoherownpartofthehouse.Therewasasmallunusedmorningroomwherewecouldbereasonablysureofbeingundisturbed.Itookherinthere,closedthedoorfirmly,andmadehersitonachair.ItookanotherchairanddrewitforwardsothatIfacedher.“Now,Josephine,”Isaid,“we’regoingtohaveashowdown.Whatexactlydoyouknow?”
“Lotsofthings.”
“ThatIhavenodoubtabout.Thatnoddleofyoursisprobablycrammedtooverflowingwithrelevantandirrelevantinformation.ButyouknowperfectlywhatImean.Don’tyou?”
“OfcourseIdo.I’mnotstupid.”
Ididn’tknowwhetherthedisparagementwasformeorthepolice,butIpaidnoattentiontoitandwenton:
“Youknowwhoputsomethinginyourcocoa?”
Josephinenodded.
“Youknowwhopoisonedyourgrandfather?”
Josephinenoddedagain.
“Andwhoknockedyouonthehead?”
AgainJosephinenodded.
“Thenyou’regoingtocomeacrosswithwhatyouknow.You’regoingtotellmeallaboutit—now.”
“Shan’t.”
“You’vegotto.Everybitofinformationyou’vegotorferretouthasgottobegiventothepolice.”
“Iwon’ttellthepoliceanything.They’restupid.TheythoughtBrendahaddoneit—orLaurence.Iwasn’tstupidlikethat.Iknewjollywelltheyhadn’tdoneit.I’vehadanideawhoitwasallalong,andthenImadeakindoftest—andnowIknowI’mright.”
Shefinishedonatriumphantnote.
IprayedtoHeavenforpatienceandstartedagain.
“Listen,Josephine,Idaresayyou’reextremelyclever—”Josephinelookedgratified.“Butitwon’tbemuchgoodtoyoutobecleverifyou’renotalivetoenjoythefact.Don’tyousee,youlittlefool,thataslongasyoukeepyoursecretsinthissillywayyou’reinimminentdanger?”
Josephinenoddedapprovingly.“OfcourseIam.”
“Alreadyyou’vehadtwoverynarrowescapes.Oneattemptnearlydidforyou.Theotherhascostsomebodyelsetheirlife.Don’tyouseeifyougoonstruttingaboutthehouseandproclaimingatthetopofyourvoicethatyouknowwhothekilleris,therewillbemoreattemptsmade—andthateitheryou’lldieorsomebodyelsewill?”
“Insomebookspersonafterpersoniskilled,”Josephineinformedmewithgusto.“Youendbyspottingthemurdererbecauseheorsheispracticallytheonlypersonleft.”
“Thisisn’tadetectivestory.ThisisThreeGables,SwinlyDean,andyou’reasillylittlegirlwho’sreadmorethanisgoodforher.I’llmakeyoutellmewhatyouknowifIhavetoshakeyoutillyourteethrattle.”
“Icouldalwaystellyousomethingthatwasn’ttrue.”
“Youcould,butyouwon’t.Whatareyouwaitingfor,anyway?”
“Youdon’tunderstand,”saidJosephine.“PerhapsImaynevertell.Yousee,Imight—befondoftheperson.”
Shepausedasthoughtoletthissinkin.
“AndifIdotell,”shewenton,“Ishalldoitproperly.Ishallhaveeverybodysittinground,andthenI’llgooveritall—withtheclues,andthenIshallsay,quitesuddenly:
“‘Anditwasyou…’”
ShethrustoutadramaticforefingerjustasEdithdeHavilandenteredtheroom.
“Putthatcoreinthewastepaperbasket,Josephine,”saidEdith.“Haveyougotahandkerchief?Yourfingersaresticky.I’mtakingyououtinthecar.”Hereyesmetminewithsignificanceasshesaid:“You’llbesaferouthereforthenexthourorso.”AsJosephinelookedmutinous,Edithadded:“We’llgointoLongbridgeandhaveanicecreamsoda.”
Josephine’seyesbrightenedandshesaid:“Two.”
“Perhaps,”saidEdith.“Nowgoandgetyourhatandcoatonandyourdarkbluescarf.It’scoldouttoday.Charles,youhadbettergowithherwhileshegetsthem.Don’tleaveher.Ihavejustacoupleofnotestowrite.”
Shesatdownatthedesk,andIescortedJosephineoutoftheroom.EvenwithoutEdith’swarning,IwouldhavestucktoJosephinelikealeech.
Iwasconvincedthattherewasdangertothechildverynearathand.
AsIfinishedsuperintendingJosephine’stoilet,Sophiacameintotheroom.Sheseemedratherastonishedtoseeme.
“Why,Charles,haveyouturnednursemaid?Ididn’tknowyouwerehere.”
“I’mgoingintoLongbridgewithAuntEdith,”saidJosephineimportantly.“We’regoingtohaveicecreams.”
“Brrr,onadaylikethis?”
“Icecreamsodasarealwayslovely,”saidJosephine.“Whenyou’recoldinside,itmakesyoufeelhotteroutside.”
Sophiafrowned.Shelookedworried,andIwasshockedbyherpallorandthecirclesunderhereyes.
Wewentbacktothemorningroom.Edithwasjustblottingacoupleofenvelopes.Shegotupbriskly.
“We’llstartnow,”shesaid.“ItoldEvanstobringroundtheFord.”
Shesweptouttothehall.Wefollowedher.
Myeyewasagaincaughtbythesuitcasesandtheirbluelabels.Forsomereasontheyarousedinmeavaguedisquietude.
“It’squiteaniceday,”saidEdithdeHaviland,pullingonherglovesandglancingupatthesky.TheFordTenwaswaitinginfrontofthehouse.“Cold—butbracing.ArealEnglishautumnday.Howbeautifultreeslookwiththeirbarebranchesagainstthesky—andjustagoldenleafortwostillhanging….”
Shewassilentamomentortwo,thensheturnedandkissedSophia.
“Goodbye,dear,”shesaid.“Don’tworrytoomuch.Certainthingshavetobefacedandendured.”
Thenshesaid,“Come,Josephine,”andgotintothecar.Josephineclimbedinbesideher.
Theybothwavedasthecardroveoff.
“Isupposeshe’sright,andit’sbettertokeepJosephineoutofthisforawhile.Butwe’vegottomakethatchildtellwhatsheknows,Sophia.”
“Sheprobablydoesn’tknowanything.She’sjustshowingoff.Josephinelikestomakeherselflookimportant,youknow.”
“It’smorethanthat.Dotheyknowwhatpoisonitwasinthecocoa?”
“Theythinkit’sdigitalin.AuntEdithtakesdigitalinforherheart.Shehasawholebottlefulloflittletabletsupinherroom.Nowthebottle’sempty.”
“Sheoughttokeepthingslikethatlockedup.”
“Shedid.Isupposeitwouldn’tbedifficultforsomeonetofindoutwhereshehidthekey.”
“Someone?Who?”Ilookedagainatthepileofluggage.Isaidsuddenlyandloudly:
“Theycan’tgoaway.Theymustn’tbeallowedto.”
Sophialookedsurprised.
“RogerandClemency?Charles,youdon’tthink—”
“Well,whatdoyouthink?”
Sophiastretchedoutherhandsinahelplessgesture.
“Idon’tknow,Charles,”shewhispered.“IonlyknowthatI’mback—backinthenightmare—”
“Iknow.ThoseweretheverywordsIusedtomyselfasIdrovedownwithTaverner.”
“Becausethisisjustwhatanightmareis.Walkingaboutamongpeopleyouknow,lookingintheirfaces—andsuddenlythefaceschange—andit’snotsomeoneyouknowanylonger—it’sastranger—acruelstranger….”
Shecried:
“Comeoutside,Charles—comeoutside.It’ssaferoutside…I’mafraidtostayinthishouse….”
Twenty-five
Westayedinthegardenalongtime.Byakindoftacitconsent,wedidnotdiscussthehorrorthatwasweighinguponus.InsteadSophiatalkedaffectionatelyofthedeadwoman,ofthingstheyhaddone,andgamestheyhadplayedaschildrenwithNannie—andtalesthattheoldwomanusedtotellthemaboutRogerandtheirfatherandtheotherbrothersandsisters.
“Theywereherrealchildren,yousee.SheonlycamebacktoustohelpduringthewarwhenJosephinewasababyandEustacewasafunnylittleboy.”
TherewasacertainbalmforSophiainthesememoriesandIencouragedhertotalk.
IwonderedwhatTavernerwasdoing.Questioningthehousehold,Isupposed.Acardroveawaywiththepolicephotographerandtwoothermen,andpresentlyanambulancedroveup.
Sophiashiveredalittle.PresentlytheambulanceleftandweknewthatNannie’sbodyhadbeentakenawayinpreparationforanautopsy.
Andstillwesatorwalkedinthegardenandtalked—ourwordsbecomingmoreandmoreofacloakforourrealthoughts.
Finally,withashiver,Sophiasaid:
“Itmustbeverylate—it’salmostdark.We’vegottogoin.AuntEdithandJosephinehaven’tcomeback…Surelytheyoughttobebackbynow?”
Avagueeneasinesswokeinme.Whathadhappened?WasEdithdeliberatelykeepingthechildawayfromtheCrookedHouse?
Wewentin.Sophiadrewallthecurtains.Thefirewaslitandthebigdrawingroomlookedharmoniouswithanunrealairofbygoneluxury.Greatbowlsofbronzechrysanthemumsstoodonthetables
SophiarangandamaidwhomIrecognizedashavingbeenformerlyupstairsbroughtintea.Shehadredeyesandsniffedcontinuously.AlsoInoticedthatshehadafrightenedwayofglancingquicklyoverhershoulder.
Magdajoinedus,butPhilip’steawassentintohiminthelibrary.Magda’srolewasastifffrozenimageofgrief.Shespokelittleornotatall.Shesaidonce:
“WhereareEdithandJosephine?They’reoutverylate.”
Butshesaiditinapreoccupiedkindofway.
ButImyselfwasbecomingincreasinglyuneasy.IaskedifTavernerwerestillinthehouseandMagdarepliedthatshethoughtso.Iwentinsearchofhim.ItoldhimthatIwasworriedaboutMissdeHavilandandthechild.
Hewentimmediatelytothetelephoneandgavecertaininstructions.
“I’llletyouknowwhenIhavenews,”hesaid.
Ithankedhimandwentbacktothedrawingroom.SophiawastherewithEustace.Magdahadgone.
“He’llletusknowifhehearsanything,”IsaidtoSophia.
Shesaidinalowvoice:
“Something’shappened,Charles,somethingmusthavehappened.”
“MydearSophia,it’snotreallylateyet.”
“Whatareyoubotheringabout?”saidEustace.“They’veprobablygonetothecinema.”
Heloungedoutoftheroom.IsaidtoSophia:“ShemayhavetakenJosephinetoahotel—oruptoLondon.Ithinkshereallyrealizedthatthechildwasindanger—perhapssherealizeditbetterthanwedid.”
SophiarepliedwithasombrelookthatIcouldnotquitefathom.
“Shekissedmegoodbye….”
Ididnotseequitewhatshemeantbythatdisconnectedremark,orwhatitwassupposedtoshow.IaskedifMagdawasworried.
“Mother?No,she’sallright.She’snosenseoftime.She’sreadinganewplayofVavasourJonescalledTheWomanDisposes.It’safunnyplayaboutmurder—afemaleBluebeard—cribbedfromArsenicandOldLaceifyouaskme,butit’sgotagoodwoman’spart,awomanwho’sgotamaniaforbeingawidow.”
Isaidnomore.Wesat,pretendingtoread.
ItwashalfpastsixwhenTaverneropenedthedoorandcamein.Hisfacepreparedusforwhathehadtosay.
Sophiagotup.
“Yes?”shesaid.
“I’msorry.I’vegotbadnewsforyou.Isentoutageneralalarmforthecar.AmotoristreportedhavingseenaFordcarwithanumbersomethinglikethatturningoffthemainroadatFlackspurHeath—throughthewoods.”
“Not—thetracktotheFlackspurQuarry?”
“Yes,MissLeonides.”Hepausedandwenton.“Thecar’sbeenfoundinthequarry.Boththeoccupantsweredead.You’llbegladtoknowtheywerekilledoutright.”
“Josephine!”ItwasMagdastandinginthedoorway.Hervoiceroseinawail.“Josephine…Mybaby.”
Sophiawenttoherandputherarmsroundher.Isaid:“Waitaminute.”
Ihadrememberedsomething!EdithdeHavilandwritingacoupleoflettersatthedesk,goingoutintothehallwiththeminherhand.
Buttheyhadnotbeeninherhandwhenshegotintothecar.
Idashedoutintothehallandwenttothelongoakchest.Ifoundtheletters—pushedinconspicuouslytothebackbehindabrassteaurn.
TheuppermostwasaddressedtoChief-InspectorTaverner.
Tavernerhadfollowedme.Ihandedthelettertohimandhetoreitopen.StandingbesidehimIreaditsbriefcontents.
Myexpectationisthatthiswillbeopenedaftermydeath.Iwishtoenterintonodetails,butIacceptfullresponsibilityforthedeathsofmybrother-in-law,AristideLeonidesandJanetRowe(Nannie).IherebysolemnlydeclarethatBrendaLeonidesandLaurenceBrownareinnocentofthemurderofAristideLeonides.InquiryofDr.MichaelChavasse,783HarleyStreet,willconfirmthatmylifecouldonlyhavebeenprolongedforafewmonths.Iprefertotakethiswayoutandtosparetwoinnocentpeopletheordealofbeingchargedwithamurdertheydidnotcommit.IamofsoundmindandfullyconsciousofwhatIwrite.EdithElfridadeHaviland.
AsIfinishedtheletterIwasawarethatSophia,too,hadreadit—whetherwithTaverner’sconcurrenceornot,Idon’tknow.
“AuntEdith…”murmuredSophia.
IrememberedEdithdeHaviland’sruthlessfootgrindingbindweedintotheearth.Irememberedmyearly,almostfanciful,suspicionsofher.Butwhy—
SophiaspokethethoughtinmymindbeforeIcametoit.
“ButwhyJosephine?WhydidshetakeJosephinewithher?”
“Whydidshedoitatall?”Idemanded.“Whatwashermotive?”
ButevenasIsaidthat,Iknewthetruth.Isawthewholethingclearly.IrealizedthatIwasstillholdinghersecondletterinmyhand.Ilookeddownandsawmyownnameonit.
Itwasthickerandharderthantheotherone.IthinkIknewwhatwasinitbeforeIopenedit.ItoretheenvelopealongandJosephine’slittleblacknotebookfellout.Ipickeditupoffthefloor—itcameopeninmyhandandIsawtheentryonthefirstpage….
Soundingfromalongwayaway,IheardSophia’svoice,clearandself-controlled.
“We’vegotitallwrong,”shesaid.“Edithdidn’tdoit.”
“No,”Isaid.
Sophiacameclosertome—shewhispered:
“Itwas—Josephine—wasn’tit?Thatwasit,Josephine.”
Togetherwelookeddownonthefirstentryinthelittleblackbook,writteninanunformedchildishhand:
“TodayIkilledgrandfather.”
Twenty-six
I
IwastowonderafterwardsthatIcouldhavebeensoblind.Thetruthhadstuckoutsoclearlyallalong.JosephineandonlyJosephinefittedinwithallthenecessaryqualifications.Hervanity,herpersistentself-importance,herdelightintalking,herreiterationonhowclevershewas,andhowstupidthepolicewere.
Ihadneverconsideredherbecauseshewasachild.Butchildrenhavecommittedmurders,andthisparticularmurderhadbeenwellwithinachild’scompass.Hergrandfatherhimselfhadindicatedtheprecisemethod—hehadpracticallyhandedherablueprint.Allshehadtodowastoavoidleavingfingerprintsandtheslightestknowledgeofdetectionfictionwouldteachherthat.Andeverythingelsehadbeenamerehotchpotch,culledatrandomfromstockmysterystories.Thenotebook—thesleuthing—herpretendedsuspicions,herinsistencethatshewasnotgoingtotelltillshewassure….
Andfinallytheattackonherself.Analmostincredibleperformanceconsideringthatshemighteasilyhavekilledherself.Butthen,childlike,shehadneverconsideredsuchapossibility.Shewastheheroine.Theheroineisn’tkilled.Yettherehadbeenacluethere—thetracesofearthontheseatoftheoldchairinthewashhouse.Josephinewastheonlypersonwhowouldhavehadtoclimbuponachairtobalancetheblockofmarbleonthetopofthedoor.Obviouslyithadmissedhermorethanonce(thedintsinthefloor)andpatientlyshehadclimbedupagainandreplacedit,handlingitwithherscarftoavoidfingerprints.Andthenithadfallen—andshehadhadanearescapefromdeath
Ithadbeentheperfectsetup—theimpressionshewasaimingfor!Shewasindanger,she“knewsomething,”shehadbeenattacked!
Isawhowshehaddeliberatelydrawnmyattentiontoherpresenceinthecisternroom.Andshehadcompletedtheartisticdisorderofherroombeforegoingouttothewashhouse.
Butwhenshehadreturnedfromhospital,whenshehadfoundBrendaandLaurencearrested,shemusthavebecomedissatisfied.Thecasewasover—andshe—Josephine,wasoutofthelimelight.
SoshestolethedigitalinfromEdith’sroomandputitinherowncupofcocoaandleftthecupuntouchedonthehalltable.
DidsheknowthatNanniewoulddrinkit?Possibly.Fromherwordsthatmorning,shehadresentedNannie’scriticismsofher.DidNannie,perhaps,wisefromalifetimeofexperiencewithchildren,suspect?IthinkthatNannieknew,hadalwaysknown,thatJosephinewasnotnormal.Withherprecociousmentaldevelopmenthadgonearetardedmoralsense.Perhaps,too,thevariousfactorsofheredity—whatSophiahadcalledthe“ruthlessnessofthefamily”—hadmettogether.
Shehadhadanauthoritarianruthlessnessofhergrandmother’sfamily,andtheruthlessegoismofMagda,seeingonlyherownpointofview.Shehadalsopresumablysuffered,sensitivelikePhilip,fromthestigmaofbeingtheunattractive—thechangelingchild—ofthefamily.Finally,inherverymarrowhadruntheessentialcrookedstrainofoldLeonides.ShehadbeenLeonides’grandchild,shehadresembledhiminbrainandcunning—butwherehislovehadgoneoutwardstofamilyandfriends,hershadturnedinwardtoherself.
IthoughtthatoldLeonideshadrealizedwhatnoneoftherestofthefamilyhadrealized,thatJosephinemightbeasourceofdangertoothersandtoherself.Hehadkeptherfromschoollifebecausehewasafraidofwhatshemightdo.Hehadshieldedher,andguardedherinthehome,andIunderstoodnowhisurgencytoSophiatolookafterJosephine.
Magda’ssuddendecisiontosendJosephineabroad—hadthat,too,beenduetoafearforthechild?Not,perhaps,aconsciousfear,butsomevaguematernalinstinct.
AndEdithdeHaviland?Hadshefirstsuspected,thenfeared—andfinallyknown?
Ilookeddownattheletterinmyhand.
DearCharles.Thisisinconfidenceforyou—andforSophiaifyousodecide.Itisimperativethatsomeoneshouldknowthetruth.Ifoundtheenclosedinthedisuseddogkenneloutsidethebackdoor.Shekeptitthere.ItconfirmswhatIalreadysuspected.TheactionIamabouttotakemayberightorwrong—Idonotknow.Butmylife,inanycase,isclosetoitsend,andIdonotwantthechildtosufferasIbelieveshewouldsufferifcalledtoearthlyaccountforwhatshehasdone.Thereisoftenoneofthelitterwhois“notquiteright.”IfIamwrong,Godforgiveme—butIdiditoutoflove.Godblessyouboth.EdithdeHaviland.Ihesitatedforonlyamoment,thenIhandedthelettertoSophia.TogetherweagainopenedJosephine’slittleblackbook.
TodayIkilledgrandfather.
Weturnedthepages.Itwasanamazingproduction.Interesting,Ishouldimagine,toapsychologist.Itsetout,withsuchterribleclarity,thefuryofthwartedegoism.Themotiveforthecrimewassetdown,pitifullychildishandinadequate.
Grandfatherwouldn’tletmedoballydancingsomadeupmymindIwouldkillhim.ThenweshouldgotoLondonandliveandmotherwouldn’tmindmedoingbally.
Igiveonlyaafewentries.Theyareallsignificant.
Idon’twanttogotoSwitzerland—Iwon’tgo.IfmothermakesmeIwillkillhertoo—onlyIcan’tgetanypoison.PerhapsIcouldmakeitwithyouberries.Theyarepoisonous,thebooksaysso.Eustacehasmademeverycrosstoday.HesaysIamonlyagirlandnouseandthatit’ssillymydetecting.Hewouldn’tthinkmesillyifheknewitwasmedidthemurder.IlikeCharles—butheisratherstupid.IhavenotdecidedyetwhoIshallmakehavedonethecrime.PerhapsBrendaandLaurence—Brendaisnastytome—shesaysIamnotalltherebutIlikeLaurence—hetoldmeaboutCharlotKorday—shekilledsomeoneinhisbath.Shewasnotverycleveraboutit.Thelastentrywasrevealing.IhateNannie…Ihateher…Ihateher…ShesaysIamonlyalittlegirl.ShesaysIshowoff.She’smakingmothersendmeabroad…I’mgoingtokillhertoo—IthinkAuntEdith’smedicinewoulddoit.Ifthereisanothermurder,thenthepolicewillcomebackanditwillallbeexcitingagain.Nannie’sdead.Iamglad.Ihaven’tdecidedyetwhereI’llhidethebottlewiththelittlepillthings.PerhapsinAuntClemency’sroom—orelseEustace.WhenIamdeadasanoldwomanIshallleavethisbehindmeaddressedtotheChiefofPoliceandtheywillseewhatareallygreatcriminalIwas.
Iclosedthebook.Sophia’stearswereflowingfast.
“Oh,Charles—oh,Charles—it’ssodreadful.She’ssuchalittlemonster—andyet—andyetit’ssoterriblypathetic.”
Ihadfeltthesame.
IhadlikedJosephine…Istillfeltafondnessforher…Youdonotlikeanyonelessbecausetheyhavetuberculosisorsomeotherfataldisease.Josephinewas,asSophiahadsaid,alittlemonster,butshewasapatheticlittlemonster.Shehadbeenbornwithakink—thecrookedchildofthelittleCrookedHouse.
Sophiaasked.
“If—shehadlived—whatwouldhavehappened?”
“Isupposeshewouldhavebeensenttoareformatoryoraspecialschool.Latershewouldhavebeenreleased—orpossiblycertified,Idon’tknow.”
Sophiashuddered.
“It’sbetterthewayitis.ButAuntEdith—Idon’tliketothinkofhertakingtheblame.”
“Shechosetodoso.Idon’tsupposeitwillbemadepublic.IimaginethatwhenBrendaandLaurencecometotrial,nocasewillbebroughtagainstthemandtheywillbedischarged.
“Andyou,Sophia,”Isaid,thistimeonadifferentnoteandtakingbothherhandsinmine,“willmarryme.I’vejustheardI’mappointedtoPersia.Wewillgoouttheretogether,andyouwillforgetthelittleCrookedHouse.YourmothercanputonplaysandyourfathercanbuymorebooksandEustacewillsoongotoauniversity.Don’tworryaboutthemanymore.Thinkofme.”
Sophialookedmestraightintheeyes.
“Aren’tyouafraid,Charles,tomarryme?”
“WhyshouldIbe?InpoorlittleJosephinealltheworstofthefamilycametogether.Inyou,Sophia,IfullybelievethatallthatisbravestandbestintheLeonidesfamilyhasbeenhandeddowntoyou.Yourgrandfatherthoughthighlyofyouandheseemstohavebeenamanwhowasusuallyright.Holdupyourhead,mydarling.Thefutureisours.”
“Iwill,Charles.IloveyouandI’llmarryyouandmakeyouhappy.”Shelookeddownatthenotebook.“PoorJosephine.”
“PoorJosephine,”Isaid.
II
“What’sthetruthofit,Charles?”saidmyfather.
IneverlietotheOldMan.
“Itwasn’tEdithdeHaviland,sir,”Isaid.“ItwasJosephine.”
Myfathernoddedhisheadgently.
“Yes,”hesaid.“I’vethoughtsoforsometime.Poorchild….”
TheAgathaChristieCollection
THEHERCULEPOIROTMYSTERIES
MatchyourwitswiththefamousBelgiandetective.
TheMysteriousAffairatStylesTheMurderontheLinksPoirotInvestigatesTheMurderofRogerAckroydTheBigFourTheMysteryoftheBlueTrainPerilatEndHouseLordEdgwareDiesMurderontheOrientExpressThreeActTragedyDeathintheCloudsTheA.B.C.MurdersMurderinMesopotamiaCardsontheTableMurderintheMewsandOtherStoriesDumbWitnessDeathontheNileAppointmentwithDeathHerculePoirot’sChristmasSadCypressOne,Two,BuckleMyShoeEvilUndertheSunFiveLittlePigsTheHollowTheLaborsofHerculesTakenattheFloodTheUnderdogandOtherStoriesMrs.McGinty’sDeadAftertheFuneralHickoryDickoryDockDeadMan’sFollyCatAmongthePigeonsTheClocksThirdGirlHallowe’enPartyElephantsCanRememberCurtain:Poirot’sLastCase
Exploremoreatwww.AgathaChristie.com
TheAgathaChristieCollection
THEMISSMARPLEMYSTERIES
JointhelegendaryspinstersleuthfromSt.MaryMeadinsolvingmurdersfarandwide.
TheMurderattheVicarageTheBodyintheLibraryTheMovingFingerAMurderIsAnnouncedTheyDoItwithMirrorsAPocketFullofRye4:50FromPaddingtonTheMirrorCrack’dACaribbeanMysteryAtBertram’sHotelNemesisSleepingMurderMissMarple:TheCompleteShortStoryCollection
THETOMMYANDTUPPENCEMYSTERIES
Jumponboardwiththeentertainingcrime-solvingcouplefromYoungAdventurersLtd.
TheSecretAdversaryPartnersinCrimeNorM?BythePrickingofMyThumbsPosternofFate
Exploremoreatwww.AgathaChristie.com
TheAgathaChristieCollection
Don’tmissasingleoneofAgathaChristie’sstand-alonenovelsandshort-storycollections.
TheManintheBrownSuitTheSecretofChimneysTheSevenDialsMysteryTheMysteriousMr.QuinTheSittafordMysteryParkerPyneInvestigatesWhyDidn’tTheyAskEvans?MurderIsEasyTheRegattaMysteryandOtherStoriesAndThenThereWereNoneTowardsZeroDeathComesastheEndSparklingCyanideTheWitnessfortheProsecutionandOtherStoriesCrookedHouseThreeBlindMiceandOtherStoriesTheyCametoBaghdadDestinationUnknownOrdealbyInnocenceDoubleSinandOtherStoriesThePaleHorseStaroverBethlehem:PoemsandHolidayStoriesEndlessNightPassengertoFrankfurtTheGoldenBallandOtherStoriesTheMousetrapandOtherPlaysTheHarlequinTeaSet
Exploremoreatwww.AgathaChristie.com
AbouttheAuthor
AgathaChristieisthemostwidelypublishedauthorofalltimeandinanylanguage,outsoldonlybytheBibleandShakespeare.HerbookshavesoldmorethanabillioncopiesinEnglishandanotherbillioninahundredforeignlanguages.Sheistheauthorofeightycrimenovelsandshort-storycollections,nineteenplays,twomemoirs,andsixnovelswrittenunderthenameMaryWestmacott.
ShefirsttriedherhandatdetectivefictionwhileworkinginahospitaldispensaryduringWorldWarI,creatingthenowlegendaryHerculePoirotwithherdebutnovelTheMysteriousAffairatStyles.WithTheMurderintheVicarage,publishedin1930,sheintroducedanotherbelovedsleuth,MissJaneMarple.Additionalseriescharactersincludethehusband-and-wifecrime-fightingteamofTommyandTuppenceBeresford,privateinvestigatorParkerPyne,andScotlandYarddetectivesSuperintendentBattleandInspectorJapp.
ManyofChristie’snovelsandshortstorieswereadaptedintoplays,films,andtelevisionseries.TheMousetrap,hermostfamousplayofall,openedin1952andisthelongest-runningplayinhistory.Amongherbest-knownfilmadaptationsareMurderontheOrientExpress(1974)andDeathontheNile(1978),withAlbertFinneyandPeterUstinovplayingHerculePoirot,respectively.OnthesmallscreenPoirothasbeenmostmemorablyportrayedbyDavidSuchet,andMissMarplebyJoanHicksonandsubsequentlyGeraldineMcEwanandJuliaMcKenzie.
ChristiewasfirstmarriedtoArchibaldChristieandthentoarchaeologistSirMaxMallowan,whomsheaccompaniedonexpeditionstocountriesthatwouldalsoserveasthesettingsformanyofhernovels.In1971sheachievedoneofBritain’shighesthonorswhenshewasmadeaDameoftheBritishEmpire.Shediedin1976attheageofeighty-five.Heronehundredandtwentiethanniversarywascelebratedaroundtheworldin2010.
www.AgathaChristie.com
Visitwww.AuthorTracker.comforexclusiveinformationonyourfavoriteHarperCollinsauthors.
THEAGATHACHRISTIECOLLECTION
TheManintheBrownSuit
TheSecretofChimneys
TheSevenDialsMystery
TheMysteriousMr.Quin
TheSittafordMystery
ParkerPyneInvestigates
WhyDidn’tTheyAskEvans?
MurderIsEasy
TheRegattaMysteryandOtherStories
AndThenThereWereNone
TowardsZero
DeathComesastheEnd
SparklingCyanide
TheWitnessfortheProsecutionandOtherStories
CrookedHouse
ThreeBlindMiceandOtherStories
TheyCametoBaghdad
DestinationUnknown
OrdealbyInnocence
DoubleSinandOtherStories
ThePaleHorse
StaroverBethlehem:PoemsandHolidayStories
EndlessNight
PassengertoFrankfurt
TheGoldenBallandOtherStories
TheMousetrapandOtherPlays
TheHarlequinTeaSet
TheHerculePoirotMysteries
TheMysteriousAffairatStyles
TheMurderontheLinks
PoirotInvestigates
TheMurderofRogerAckroyd
TheBigFour
TheMysteryoftheBlueTrain
PerilatEndHouse
LordEdgwareDies
MurderontheOrientExpress
ThreeActTragedy
DeathintheClouds
TheA.B.C.Murders
MurderinMesopotamia
CardsontheTable
MurderintheMewsandOtherStories
DumbWitness
DeathontheNile
AppointmentwithDeath
HerculePoirot’sChristmas
SadCypress
One,Two,BuckleMyShoe
EvilUndertheSun
FiveLittlePigs
TheHollow
TheLaborsofHercules
TakenattheFlood
TheUnderdogandOtherStories
Mrs.McGinty’sDead
AftertheFuneral
HickoryDickoryDock
DeadMan’sFolly
CatAmongthePigeons
TheClocks
ThirdGirl
Hallowe’enParty
ElephantsCanRemember
Curtain:Poirot’sLastCase
TheMissMarpleMysteries
TheMurderattheVicarage
TheBodyintheLibrary
TheMovingFinger
AMurderIsAnnounced
TheyDoItwithMirrors
APocketFullofRye
4:50fromPaddington
TheMirrorCrack’d
ACaribbeanMystery
AtBertram’sHotel
Nemesis
SleepingMurder
MissMarple:TheCompleteShortStoryCollection
TheTommyandTuppenceMysteries
TheSecretAdversary
PartnersinCrime
NorM?
BythePrickingofMyThumbs
PosternofFate
Copyright
Thisbookisaworkoffiction.Thecharacters,incidents,anddialoguearedrawnfromtheauthor’simaginationandarenottobeconstruedasreal.Anyresemblancetoactualeventsorpersons,livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.
AGATHACHRISTIE?CROOKEDHOUSE?.Copyright?2011AgathaChristieLimited(aChorioncompany).Allrightsreserved.CrookedHousewasfirstpublishedin1949.
CROOKEDHOUSE.Copyright?1949.PublishedbypermissionofG.P.Putnam’sSons,amemberofPenguinGroup(USA)Inc.AllrightsreservedunderInternationalandPan-AmericanCopyrightConventions.Bypaymentoftherequiredfees,youhavebeengrantedthenonexclusive,nontransferablerighttoaccessandreadthetextofthise-bookon-screen.Nopartofthistextmaybereproduced,transmitted,downloaded,decompiled,reverse-engineered,orstoredinorintroducedintoanyinformationstorageandretrievalsystem,inanyformorbyanymeans,whetherelectronicormechanical,nowknownorhereinafterinvented,withouttheexpresswrittenpermissionofHarperCollinse-books.