Murder Is Easy

AgathaChristie
MurderisEasy
DedicatedtoRosalindandSusanthefirsttwocriticsofthisbook
Contents
Cover
TitlePage
Dedication
1.AFellowTraveller
2.ObituaryNotice
3.WitchwithoutBroomstick
4.LukeMakesaBeginning
5.VisittoMissWaynflete
6.HatPaint
7.Possibilities
8.Dr.Thomas
9.Mrs.PierceTalks
10.RoseHumbleby
11.DomesticLifeofMajorHorton
12.PassageofArms
13.MissWaynfleteTalks
14.MeditationsofLuke
15.ImproperConductofaChauffeur
16.ThePineapple
17.LordWhitfieldTalks
18.ConferenceinLondon
19.BrokenEngagement
20.We’reinIt—Together
21.“OWhyDoYouWalkThroughtheFieldsinGloves?”
22.Mrs.HumblebySpeaks
23.NewBeginning
AbouttheAuthor
OtherBooksbyAgathaChristie
Copyright
AboutthePublisher
One
AFELLOWTRAVELLER
England!
Englandaftermanyyears!
Howwashegoingtolikeit?
LukeFitzwilliamaskedhimselfthatquestionashewalkeddownthegangplanktothedock.ItwaspresentatthebackofhismindallthroughthewaitintheCustoms’shed.Itcamesuddenlytotheforewhenhewasfinallyseatedintheboattrain.
Englandonleavewasonething.Plentyofmoneytoblue(tobeginwithanyway!),oldfriendstolookup,meetingswithotherfellowshomelikehimself—acarefreeatmosphereof“Well,itwon’tbelong.Mightaswellenjoymyself!Soonbegoingback.”
Butnowtherewasnoquestionofgoingback.Nomoreofthehotstiflingnights,nomoreblindingsunandtropicalbeautyofrichvegetation,nomorelonelyeveningsreadingandre-readingoldcopiesofTheTimes.
Herehewas,honourablyretiredonapension,withsomesmallprivatemeansofhisown,agentlemanofleisure,comehometoEngland.Whatwashegoingtodowithhimself?
England!EnglandonaJuneday,withagreyskyandasharpbitingwind.Nothingwelcomingaboutheronadaylikethis!Andthepeople!Heavens,thepeople!Crowdsofthem,allwithgreyfaceslikethesky—anxiousworriedfaces.Thehousestoo,springingupeverywherelikemushrooms.Nastylittlehouses!Revoltinglittlehouses!Chickencoopsinthegrandiosemanneralloverthecountryside!
WithaneffortLukeFitzwilliamavertedhiseyesfromthelandscapeoutsidetherailwaycarriagewindowandsettleddowntoaperusalofthepapershehadjustbought.TheTimes,theDailyClarionandPunch.
HestartedwiththeDailyClarion.TheClarionwasgivenoverentirelytoEpsom.
Lukethought:“Apitywedidn’tgetinyesterday.Haven’tseentheDerbyrunsinceIwasnineteen.”
HehaddrawnahorseintheClubsweepandhelookednowtoseewhattheClarion’sracingcorrespondentthoughtofitschance.Hefounditdismissedcontemptuouslyinasentence.
“Oftheothers,JujubetheII.,Mark’sMile,SantonyandJerryBoyarehardlylikelytoqualifyforaplace.Alikelyoutsideris—”
ButLukepaidnoattentiontothelikelyoutsider.Hiseyehadshiftedtothebetting.JujubetheII.waslistedatamodest40to1.
Heglancedathiswatch.Aquartertofour.“Well,”hethought.“It’sovernow.”Andhewishedhe’dhadabetonClarigoldwhowasthesecondfavourite.
ThenheopenedTheTimesandbecameabsorbedinmoreseriousmatters.
Notforlong,however,forafierce-lookingcolonelinthecorneroppositewassoincensedatwhathehimselfhadjustreadthathehadtopassonhisindignationtohisfellowpassenger.Afullhalfhourpassedbeforethecoloneltiredofsayingwhathethoughtabout“thesedamnedCommunistagitators,sir.”
Thecoloneldieddownatlastandfinallydroppedofftosleepwithhismouthopen.Shortlyafterwardsthetrainsloweddownandfinallystopped.Lukelookedoutofthewindow.Theywereinalargeempty-lookingstationwithmanyplatforms.Hecaughtsightofabookstallsomewayuptheplatformwithaplacard:DERBYRESULT.Lukeopenedthedoor,jumpedout,andrantowardsthebookstall.Amomentlaterhewasstaringwithabroadgrinatafewsmudgedlinesinthestoppress.
DerbyResultJUJUBETHEII.MAZEPPACLARIGOLD
Lukegrinnedbroadly.Ahundredpoundstoblue!GoodoldJujubetheII.,soscornfullydismissedbyallthetipsters.
Hefoldedthepaper,stillgrinningtohimself,andturnedback—tofaceemptiness.IntheexcitementofJujubetheII.’svictory,histrainhadslippedoutofthestationunnoticedbyhim.
“Whenthedevildidthattraingoout?”hedemandedofagloomy-lookingporter.
Thelatterreplied:
“Whattrain?Therehasn’tbeennotrainsincethe3:14.”
“Therewasatrainherejustnow.Igotoutofit.Theboatexpress.”
Theporterrepliedausterely:
“Theboatexpressdon’tstopanywheretillLondon.”
“Butitdid,”Lukeassuredhim.“Igotoutofit.”
“NostopanywheretillLondon,”repeatedtheporterimmovably.
“ItstoppedatthisveryplatformandIgotoutofit,Itellyou.”
Facedbyfacts,theporterchangedhisground.
“Youdidn’toughttohavedone,”hesaidreproachfully.“Itdon’tstophere.”
“Butitdid.”
“That’twassignal,thatwas.Signalagainstit.Itdidn’twhatyou’dcall‘stop.’”
“I’mnotsogoodatthesefinedistinctionsasyouare,”saidLuke.“Thepointis,whatdoIdonext?”
Theporter,amanofslowideas,repeatedreproachfully:“Youdidn’toughttohavegotout.”
“We’lladmitthat,”saidLuke.“Thewrongisdone,pastallrecall—weepweneversobitterlywecanneverbringbackthedeadpast—Quoththeraven‘Nevermore’—Themovingfingerwrites;andhavingwritmoveson,etc.,etc.,andsoonandsoforth.WhatI’mtryingtogetatis,whatdoyou,amanexperiencedintheserviceoftherailwaycompany,advisemetodonow?”
“You’reaskingwhatyou’dbetterdo?”
“That,”saidLuke,“istheidea.Thereare,Ipresume,trainsthatstop,reallyofficiallystop,here?”
“Reckon,”saidtheporter.“You’dbestgoonbythe4:25.”
“Ifthe4:25goestoLondon,”saidLuke,“the4:25isthetrainforme.”
Reassuredonthatpoint,Lukestrolledupanddowntheplatform.AlargeboardinformedhimthathewasatFennyClaytonJunctionforWychwood-under-Ashe,andpresentlyatrainconsistingofonecarriagepushedbackwardsbyanantiquatedlittleenginecameslowlypuffinginanddepositeditselfinamodestbay.Sixorsevenpeoplealighted,andcrossingoverabridge,cametojoinLukeonhisplatform.Thegloomyportersuddenlyawoketolifeandbeganpushingaboutalargetruckofcratesandbaskets,anotherporterjoinedhimandbegantorattlemilkcans.FennyClaytonawoketolife.
Atlast,withimmenseimportancetheLondontraincamein.Thethird-classcarriageswerecrowded,andoffirststherewereonlythreeandeachonecontainedatravellerortravellers.Lukescrutinizedeachcompartment.Thefirst,asmoker,containedagentlemanofmilitaryaspectsmokingacigar.LukefelthehadhadenoughofAnglo-Indiancolonelstoday.Hepassedontothenextone,whichcontainedatired-lookinggenteelyoungwoman,possiblyanurserygoverness,andanactive-lookingsmallboyofaboutthree.Lukepassedonquickly.Thenextdoorwasopenandthecarriagecontainedonepassenger,anelderlylady.SheremindedLukeslightlyofoneofhisaunts,hisAuntMildred,whohadcourageouslyallowedhimtokeepagrasssnakewhenhewastenyearsold.AuntMildredhadbeendecidedlyagoodauntasauntsgo.Lukeenteredthecarriageandsatdown.
Aftersomefiveminutesofintenseactivityonthepartofmilkvans,luggagetrucksandotherexcitements,thetrainmovedslowlyoutofthestation.Lukeunfoldedhispaperandturnedtosuchitemsofnewsasmightinterestamanwhohadalreadyreadhismorningpaper.
Hedidnothopetoreaditforlong.Beingamanofmanyaunts,hewasfairlycertainthattheniceoldladyinthecornerdidnotproposetotravelinsilencetoLondon.
Hewasright—awindowthatneededadjusting,droppedumbrella—andthewaytheoldladywastellinghimwhatagoodtrainthiswas.
“Onlyanhourandtenminutes.That’sverygood,youknow,verygoodindeed.Muchbetterthanthemorningone.Thattakesanhourandfortyminutes.”
Shewenton:
“Ofcourse,nearlyeveryonegoesbythemorningone.Imean,whenitisthecheapdayit’ssillytogoupintheafternoon.Imeanttogoupthismorning,butWonkyPoohwasmissing—that’smycat,aPersian,suchabeautyonlyhe’shadapainfulearlately—andofcourseIcouldn’tleavehometillhewasfound!”
Lukemurmured:
“Ofcoursenot,”andlethiseyesdropostentatiouslytohispaper.Butitwasofnoavail.Thefloodwenton.
“SoIjustmadethebestofabadjobandtooktheafternoontraininstead,andofcourseit’sablessinginonewaybecauseit’snotsocrowded—notthatthatmatterswhenoneistravellingfirstclass.Ofcourse,Idon’tusuallydothat.Imean,Ishouldconsideritanextravagance,whatwithtaxesandone’sdividendsbeinglessandservants’wagessomuchmoreandeverything—butreallyIwassoupsetbecauseyousee,I’mgoinguponveryimportantbusiness,andIwantedtothinkoutexactlywhatIwasgoingtosay—justquietly,youknow—”Lukerepressedasmile.“Andwhentherearepeopleyouknowtravellinguptoo—well,onecan’tbeunfriendly—soIthoughtjustforonce,theexpensewasquitepermissible—thoughIdothinknowadaysthereissomuchwaste—andnobodysavesorthinksofthefuture.Oneissorrythesecondswereeverabolished—itdidmakejustthatlittledifference.
“Ofcourse,”shewentonquickly,withaswiftglanceatLuke’sbronzedface,“Iknowsoldiersonleavehavetotravelfirstclass.Imean,beingofficers,it’sexpectedofthem—”
Lukesustainedtheinquisitiveglanceofapairofbrighttwinklingeyes.Hecapitulatedatonce.Itwouldcometoit,heknew,intheend.
“I’mnotasoldier,”hesaid.
“Oh,I’msorry.Ididn’tmean—Ijustthought—youweresobrown—perhapshomefromtheEastonleave.”
“I’mhomefromtheEast,”saidLuke.“Butnotonleave.”Hestalledofffurtherresearcheswithabaldstatement.“I’mapoliceman.”
“Inthepolice?Nowreally,that’sveryinteresting.Adearfriendofmine—herboyhasjustjoinedthePalestinepolice.”
“MayangStraits,”saidLuke,takinganothershortcut.
“Oh,dear—veryinteresting.Really,it’squiteacoincidence—Imean,thatyoushouldbetravellinginthiscarriage.Because,yousee,thisbusinessI’mgoinguptotownabout—well,actuallyitistoScotlandYardI’mgoing.”
“Really?”saidLuke.
Hethoughttohimself,“WillsherundownsoonlikeaclockorwillthisgoonallthewaytoLondon?”Buthedidnotreallymindverymuch,becausehehadbeenveryfondofhisAuntMildred,andherememberedhowshehadoncestumpedupafiverinthenickoftime.Besides,therewassomethingverycosyandEnglishaboutoldladieslikethisoldladyandhisAuntMildred.TherewasnothingatalllikethemintheMayangStraits.TheycouldbeclassedwithplumpuddingonChristmasDayandvillagecricketandopenfireplaceswithwoodfires.Thesortofthingsyouappreciatedagooddealwhenyouhadn’tgotthemandwereontheothersideoftheworld.(Theywerealsothesortofthingyougotveryboredwithwhenyouhadagooddealofthem,butashasbeenalreadytold,LukehadonlylandedinEnglandthreeorfourhoursago.)
Theoldladywascontinuinghappily:
“Yes,Imeanttogoupthismorning—andthen,asItoldyou,IwassoworriedaboutWonkyPooh.Butyoudon’tthinkitwillbetoolate,doyou?Imean,therearen’tanyspecialofficehoursatScotlandYard.”
“Idon’tthinktheyclosedownatfouroranythinglikethat,”saidLuke.
“No,ofcourse,theycouldn’t,couldthey?Imean,somebodymightwanttoreportaseriouscrimeatanyminute,mightn’tthey?”
“Exactly,”saidLuke.
Foramomenttheoldladyrelapsedintosilence.Shelookedworried.
“Ialwaysthinkit’sbettertogorighttothefountainhead,”shesaidatlast.“JohnReedisquiteanicefellow—that’sourconstableinWychwood—averycivil-spoken,pleasantman—butIdon’tfeel,youknow—thathewouldbequitethepersontodealwithanythingserious.He’squiteusedtodealingwithpeoplewho’vedrunktoomuch,orwithexceedingthespeedlimit,orlighting-uptime—orpeoplewhohaven’ttakenoutadoglicence—andperhapswithburglaryeven.ButIdon’tthink—I’mquitesure—heisn’tthepersontodealwithmurder!”
Luke’seyebrowsrose.
“Murder?”
Theoldladynoddedvigorously.
“Yes,murder.You’resurprised,Icansee.Iwasmyselfatfirst…Ireallycouldn’tbelieveit.IthoughtImustbeimaginingthings.”
“Areyouquitesureyouweren’t?”Lukeaskedgently.
“Oh,no.”Sheshookherheadpositively.“Imighthavebeenthefirsttime,butnotthesecond,orthethirdorthefourth.Afterthatoneknows.”
Lukesaid:
“Doyoumeantherehavebeen—er—severalmurders?”
Thequietgentlevoicereplied:
“Agoodmany,I’mafraid.”
Shewenton:
“That’swhyIthoughtitwouldbebesttogostraighttoScotlandYardandtellthemaboutit.Don’tyouthinkthat’sthebestthingtodo?”
Lukelookedatherthoughtfully,thenhesaid:
“Why,yes—Ithinkyou’requiteright.”
Hethoughttohimself:
“They’llknowhowtodealwithher.Probablygethalfadozenoldladiesaweekcominginburblingabouttheamountofmurderscommittedintheirnicequietcountryvillages!Theremaybeaspecialdepartmentfordealingwiththeolddears.”
Andhesawinimaginationafatherlysuperintendent,oragood-lookingyounginspector,tactfullymurmuring:
“Thankyou,ma’am,verygratefultoyou,I’msure.Nowjustgobackandleaveitallinourhandsanddon’tworryanymoreaboutit.”
Hesmiledalittletohimselfatthepicture.Hethought:
“Iwonderwhytheygetthesefancies?Deadlydulllives,Isuppose—anunacknowledgedcravingfordrama.Someoldladies,soI’veheard,fancyeveryoneispoisoningtheirfood.”
Hewasrousedfromthesemeditationsbythethin,gentlevoicecontinuing:
“Youknow,Irememberreadingonce—IthinkitwastheAbercrombiecase—ofcoursehe’dpoisonedquitealotofpeoplebeforeanysuspicionwasaroused—whatwasIsaying?Oh,yes,somebodysaidthattherewasalook—aspeciallookthathegaveanyone—andthenveryshortlyafterwardsthatpersonwouldbetakenill.Ididn’treallybelievethatwhenIreadaboutit—butit’strue!”
“What’strue?”
“Thelookonaperson’sface….”
Lukestaredather.Shewastremblingalittle,andhernicepinkcheekshadlostsomeoftheircolour.
“IsawitfirstwithAmyGibbs—andshedied.AndthenitwasCarter.AndTommyPierce.Butnow—yesterday—itwasDr.Humbleby—andhe’ssuchagoodman—areallygoodman.Carter,ofcourse,drank,andTommyPiercewasadreadfullycheekyimpertinentlittleboy,andbulliedthetinyboys,twistingtheirarmsandpinchingthem.Ididn’tfeelquitesobadlyaboutthem,butDr.Humbleby’sdifferent.Hemustbesaved.AndtheterriblethingisthatifIwenttohimandtoldhimaboutithewouldn’tbelieveme!He’donlylaugh!AndJohnReedwouldn’tbelievemeeither.ButatScotlandYarditwillbedifferent.Because,naturally,they’reusedtocrimethere!”
Sheglancedoutofthewindow.
“Oh,dear,weshallbeininaminute.”Shefussedalittle,openingandshuttingherbag,collectingherumbrella.
“Thankyou—thankyousomuch.”ThistoLukeashepickedtheumbrellaupforthesecondtime.“It’sbeensucharelieftalkingtoyou—mostkindofyou,I’msure—sogladyouthinkI’mdoingtherightthing.”
Lukesaidkindly:
“I’msurethey’llgiveyougoodadviceatScotlandYard.”
“Ireallyammostgrateful.”Shefumbledinherbag.“Mycard—oh,dear,Ionlyhaveone—Imustkeepthat—forScotlandYard—”
“Ofcourse,ofcourse—”
“ButmynameisPinkerton.”
“Verysuitablename,too,MissPinkerton,”saidLuke,smiling,addinghastilyasshelookedalittlebewildered,“MynameisLukeFitzwilliam.”
Asthetraindrewintotheplatformheadded:
“CanIgetyouataxi?”
“Oh,no,thankyou.”MissPinkertonseemedquiteshockedattheidea.“Ishalltakethetube.ThatwilltakemetoTrafalgarSquare,andIshallwalkdownWhitehall.”
“Well,goodluck,”saidLuke.
MissPinkertonshookhimwarmlybythehand.
“Sokind,”shemurmuredagain.“Youknow,justatfirstIthoughtyoudidn’tbelieveme.”
Lukehadthegracetoblush.
“Well,”hesaid.“Somanymurders!Ratherhardtodoalotofmurdersandgetawaywithit,eh?”
MissPinkertonshookherhead.
Shesaidearnestly:
“No,no,mydearboy,that’swhereyou’rewrong.It’sveryeasytokill—solongasnoonesuspectsyou.Andyousee,thepersoninquestionisjustthelastpersonanyonewouldsuspect!”
“Well,anyway,goodluck,”saidLuke.
MissPinkertonwasswallowedupinthecrowd.Hehimselfwentoffinsearchofhisluggage,thinkingashedidso:
“Justalittlebitbatty?No,Idon’tthinkso.Avividimagination,that’sall.Hopetheyletherdownlightly.Ratheranolddear.”
Two
OBITUARYNOTICE
I
JimmyLorrimerwasoneofLuke’soldestfriends.Asamatterofcourse,LukestayedwithJimmyassoonashegottoLondon.ItwaswithJimmythathesalliedforthontheeveningofhisarrivalinsearchofamusement.ItwasJimmy’scoffeethathedrankwithanachingheadthemorningafter,anditwasJimmy’svoicethatwentunansweredwhilehereadtwiceoverasmallinsignificantparagraphinthemorningpaper.
“Sorry,Jimmy,”hesaid,comingtohimselfwithastart.
“Whatwereyouabsorbedin—thepoliticalsituation?”
Lukegrinned.
“Nofear.No,it’sratherqueer—oldpussyItravelledupwithinthetrainyesterdaygotrunover.”
“ProbablytrustedtoaBelishaBeacon,”saidJimmy.“Howdoyouknowit’sher?”
“Ofcourse,itmayn’tbe.Butit’sthesamename—Pinkerton—shewasknockeddownandkilledbyacarasshewascrossingWhitehall.Thecardidn’tstop.”
“Nastybusiness,”saidJimmy.
“Yes,pooroldbean.I’msorry.SheremindedmeofmyAuntMildred.”
“Whoeverwasdrivingthatcarwillbeforit.Bringitinmanslaughteraslikelyasnot.Itellyou,I’mscaredstiffofdrivingacarnowadays.”
“Whathaveyougotatpresentinthewayofacar?”
“FordV8.Itellyou,myboy—”
Theconversationbecameseverelymechanical.
Jimmybrokeitofftoask:
“Whatthedevilareyouhumming?”
Lukewashummingtohimself:
“Fiddlededee,fiddlededee,theflyhasmarriedthebumblebee.”
Heapologized.
“Nurseryrhymerememberedfrommychildhood.Can’tthinkwhatputitintomyhead.”
II
ItwasoveraweeklaterthatLuke,carelesslyscanningthefrontpageofTheTimes,gaveasuddenstartledexclamation.
“Well,I’mdamned!”
JimmyLorrimerlookedup.
“What’sthematter?”
Lukedidnotanswer.Hewasstaringatanameintheprintedcolumn.
Jimmyrepeatedhisquestion.
Lukeraisedhisheadandlookedathisfriend.HisexpressionwassopeculiarthatJimmywasquitetakenaback.
“What’sup,Luke?Youlookasthoughyou’dseenaghost.”
Foraminuteortwotheotherdidnotreply.Hedroppedthepaper,strodetothewindowandbackagain.Jimmywatchedhimwithincreasingsurprise.
Lukedroppedintoachairandleanedforward.
“Jimmy,oldson,doyouremembermymentioninganoldladyItravelleduptotownwith—thedayIarrivedinEngland?”
“TheoneyousaidremindedyouofyourAuntMildred?Andthenshegotrunoverbyacar?”
“That’stheone.Listen,Jimmy.TheoldgirlcameoutwithalongrigmaroleofhowshewasgoinguptoScotlandYardtotellthemaboutalotofmurders.Therewasamurdererlooseinhervillage—that’swhatitamountedto,andhe’sbeendoingsomeprettyrapidexecution.”
“Youdidn’ttellmeshewasbatty,”saidJimmy.
“Ididn’tthinkshewas.”
“Oh,comenow,oldboy,wholesalemurder—”
Lukesaidimpatiently:
“Ididn’tthinkshewasoffherhead.Ithoughtshewasjustlettingherimaginationrunawaywithherlikeoldladiessometimesdo.”
“Well,yes,Isupposethatmighthavebeenit.Butshewasprobablyabittouchedaswell,Ishouldthink.”
“Nevermindwhatyouthink,Jimmy.Atthemoment,I’mtellingyou,see?”
“Oh,quite—quite—getonwithit.”
“Shewasquitecircumstantial,mentionedoneortwovictimsbynameandthenexplainedthatwhathadreallyrattledherwasthefactthatsheknewwhothenextvictimwasgoingtobe.”
“Yes?”saidJimmyencouragingly.
“Sometimesanamesticksinyourheadforsomesillyreasonorother.ThisnamestuckinminebecauseIlinkeditupwithasillynurseryrhymetheyusedtosingtomewhenIwasakid.Fiddlededee,fiddlededee,theflyhasmarriedthebumblebee.”
“Veryintellectual,I’msure,butwhat’sthepoint?”
“Thepoint,mygoodass,isthattheman’snamewasHumbleby—Dr.Humbleby.MyoldladysaidDr.Humblebywouldbethenext,andshewasdistressedbecausehewas‘suchagoodman.’Thenamestuckinmyheadbecauseoftheaforementionedrhyme.”
“Well?”saidJimmy.
“Well,lookatthis.”
Lukepassedoverthepaper,hisfingerpressedagainstanentryinthecolumnofdeaths.
HUMBLEBY.—OnJune13,suddenly,athisresidence,Sandgate,Wychwood-under-Ashe,JOHNEDWARDHUMBLEBY,MD,belovedhusbandofJESSIEROSEHUMBLEBY.FuneralFriday.Noflowers,byrequest.
“Yousee,Jimmy?That’sthenameandtheplaceandhe’sadoctor.Whatdoyoumakeofit?”
Jimmytookamomentortwotoanswer.Hisvoicewasseriouswhenhesaidatlastratheruncertainly:
“Isupposeit’sjustadamnedoddcoincidence.”
“Isit,Jimmy?Isit?Isthatallitis?”
Lukebegantowalkupanddownagain.
“Whatelsecoulditbe?”askedJimmy.
Lukewheeledroundsuddenly.
“Supposethateverywordthatdearbleatingoldsheepsaidwastrue!Supposethatthatfantasticstorywasjusttheplainliteraltruth!”
“Oh,comenow,oldboy!Thatwouldbeabitthick!Thingslikethatdon’thappen.”
“WhatabouttheAbercrombiecase?Wasn’thesupposedtohavedoneawaywithagoodishfew?”
“Morethanevercameout,”saidJimmy.“Apalofminehadacousinwhowasthelocalcoroner.Iheardabitthroughhim.TheygotAbercrombieforfeedingthelocalvetwitharsenic,thentheyduguphiswifeandshewasfullofit,andit’sprettycertainhisbrother-in-lawwentthesameway—andthatwasn’tall,byalongchalk.ThispalofminetoldmetheunofficialviewwasthatAbercrombiehaddoneawaywithatleastfifteenpeopleinhistime.Fifteen!”
“Exactly.Sothesethingsdohappen!”
“Yes,buttheydon’thappenoften.”
“Howdoyouknow?Theymayhappenagooddealoftenerthanyousuppose.”
“Therespeaksthepolicewallah!Can’tyouforgetyou’reapolicemannowthatyou’veretiredintoprivatelife?”
“Onceapoliceman,alwaysapoliceman,Isuppose,”saidLuke.“Nowlookhere,Jimmy,supposingthatbeforeAbercrombiehadgotsofoolhardyasfairlytopushhismurdersunderthenoseofthepolice,somedearloquaciousoldspinsterhadjustsimplyguessedwhathewasuptoandhadtrottedofftotellsomeoneinauthorityallaboutit.Doyousupposethey’dhavelistenedtoher?”
Jimmygrinned.
“Nofear!”
“Exactly.They’dhavesaidshe’dgotbatsinthebelfry.Justasyousaid!Orthey’dhavesaid,‘Toomuchimagination.Notenoughtodo.’AsIsaid!Andbothofus,Jimmy,wouldhavebeenwrong.”
Lorrimertookamomentortwotoconsider,thenhesaid:
“What’sthepositionexactly—asitappearstoyou?”
Lukesaidslowly:
“Thecasestandslikethis.Iwastoldastory—animprobable,butnotanimpossiblestory.Onepieceofevidence,thedeathofDr.Humbleby,supportsthatstory.Andthere’soneothersignificantfact.MissPinkertonwasgoingtoScotlandYardwiththisimprobablestoryofhers.Butshedidn’tgetthere.Shewasrunoverandkilledbyacarthatdidn’tstop.”
Jimmyobjected.
“Youdon’tknowthatshedidn’tgetthere.Shemighthavebeenkilledafterhervisit,notbefore.”
“Shemighthavebeen,yes—butIdon’tthinkshewas.”
“That’spuresupposition.Itboilsdowntothis—youbelieveinthis—thismelodrama.”
Lukeshookhisheadsharply.
“No,Idon’tsaythat.AllIsayis,there’sacaseforinvestigation.”
“Inotherwords,youaregoingtoScotlandYard.”
“No,ithasn’tcometothatyet—notnearly.Asyousay,thismanHumbleby’sdeathmaybemerelyacoincidence.”
“Thenwhat,mayIask,istheidea?”
“Theideaistogodowntothisplaceandlookintothematter.”
“Sothat’stheidea,isit?”
“Don’tyouagreethatthatistheonlysensiblewaytosetaboutit?”
Jimmystaredathim,thenhesaid:
“Areyouseriousaboutthisbusiness,Luke?”
“Absolutely.”
“Supposethewholething’samare’snest?”
“Thatwouldbethebestthingthatcouldhappen.”
“Yes,ofcourse…”Jimmyfrowned.“Butyoudon’tthinkitis,doyou?”
“Mydearfellow,I’mkeepinganopenmind.”Jimmywassilentforaminuteortwo.Thenhesaid:
“Gotanyplan?Imean,you’llhavetohavesomereasonforsuddenlyarrivinginthisplace.”
“Yes,IsupposeIshall.”
“No‘suppose’aboutit.DoyourealizewhatasmallEnglishcountrytownislike?Anyonenewsticksoutamile!”
“Ishallhavetoadoptadisguise,”saidLukewithasuddengrin.“Whatdoyousuggest?Artist?Hardly—Ican’tdraw,letalonepaint.”
“Youcouldbeamodernartist,”suggestedJimmy.“Thenthatwouldn’tmatter.”
ButLukewasintentonthematterinhand.
“Anauthor?Doauthorsgotostrangecountryinnstowrite?Theymight,Isuppose.Afisherman,perhaps—butI’llhavetofindoutifthere’sahandyriver.Aninvalidorderedcountryair?Idon’tlookthepart,andanywayeveryonegoestoanursinghomenowadays.Imightbelookingforahouseintheneighbourhood.Butthat’snotverygood.Hangitall,Jimmy,theremustbesomeplausiblereasonforaheartystrangertodescenduponanEnglishvillage?”
Jimmysaid:
“Waitasec—givemethatpaperagain.”
Takingit,hegaveitacursoryglanceandannouncedtriumphantly:
“Ithoughtso!Luke,oldboy—toputitinanutshell—I’llfixyouOK.Everything’saseasyaswinking!”
Lukewheeledround.
“What?”
Jimmywascontinuingwithmodestpride:
“Ithoughtsomethingstruckachord!Wychwood-under-Ashe.Ofcourse!Theveryplace!”
“Haveyou,byanychance,apalwhoknowsthecoronerthere?”
“Notthistime.Betterthanthat,myboy.Nature,asyouknow,hasendowedmeplentifullywithauntsandcousins—myfatherhavingbeenoneofafamilyofthirteen.Nowlistentothis:IhaveacousininWychwood-under-Ashe.”
“Jimmy,you’reablinkingmarvel.”
“Itisprettygood,isn’tit?”saidJimmymodestly.
“Tellmeabouthim.”
“It’saher.Hername’sBridgetConway.Forthelasttwoyearsshe’sbeensecretarytoLordWhitfield.”
“Themanwhoownsthosenastylittleweeklypapers?”
“That’sright.Ratheranastylittlemantoo!Pompous!HewasborninWychwood-under-Ashe,andbeingthekindofsnobwhoramshisbirthandbreedingdownyourthroatandgloriesinbeingself-made,hehasreturnedtohishomevillage,boughtuptheonlybighouseintheneighbourhood(itbelongedtoBridget’sfamilyoriginally,bytheway)andisbusymakingtheplaceintoa‘modelestate.’”
“Andyourcousinishissecretary?”
“Shewas,”saidJimmydarkly.“Nowshe’sgoneonebetter!She’sengagedtohim!”
“Oh,”saidLuke,rathertakenaback.
“He’sacatch,ofcourse,”saidJimmy.“Rollinginmoney.Bridgettookratheratossoversomefellow—itprettywellknockedtheromanceoutofher.Idaresaythiswillpanoutverywell.She’llprobablybekindoffirmwithhimandhe’lleatoutofherhand.”
“AndwheredoIcomein?”
Jimmyrepliedpromptly.
“Yougodowntheretostay—you’dbetterbeanothercousin.Bridget’sgotsomanythatonemoreorlesswon’tmatter.I’llfixthatupwithherallright.SheandIhavealwaysbeenpals.Nowforyourreasonforgoingthere—witchcraft,myboy.”
“Witchcraft?”
“Folklore,localsuperstitions—allthatsortofthing.Wychwood-under-Ashehasgotratherareputationthatway.OneofthelastplaceswheretheyhadaWitches’Sabbath—witcheswerestillburntthereinthelastcentury—allsortsoftraditions.You’rewritingabook,see?CorrelatingthecustomsoftheMayangStraitsandoldEnglishfolklore—pointsofresemblance,etc.Youknowthesortofstuff.Goroundwithanotebookandinterviewtheoldestinhabitantaboutlocalsuperstitionsandcustoms.They’requiteusedtothatsortofthingdownthere,andifyou’restayingatAsheManoritvouchesforyou.”
“WhataboutLordWhitfield?”
“He’llbeallright.He’squiteuneducatedandcompletelycredulous—actuallybelievesthingshereadsinhisownpapers.AnywayBridgetwillfixhim.Bridget’sallright.I’llanswerforher.”
Lukedrewadeepbreath.
“Jimmy,oldscout,itlooksasthoughthethingisgoingtobeeasy.You’reawonder.Ifyoucanreallyfixupwithyourcousin—”
“ThatwillbeabsolutelyOK.Leaveittome.”
“I’mnoendgratefultoyou.”
Jimmysaid:
“AllIaskis,ifyou’rehuntingdownahomicidalmurderer,letmebeinatthedeath!”
Headdedsharply:
“Whatisit?”
Lukesaidslowly:
“JustsomethingIrememberedmyoldladysayingtome.I’dsaidtoherthatitwasabitthicktodoalotofmurdersandgetawaywithit,andsheansweredthatIwaswrong—thatitwasveryeasytokill…”Hestopped,andthensaidslowly,“Iwonderifthat’strue,Jimmy?Iwonderifitis—”
“What?”
“Easytokill….”
Three
WITCHWITHOUTBROOMSTICK
I
ThesunwasshiningwhenLukecameoverthehillanddownintothelittlecountrytownofWychwood-under-Ashe.HehadboughtasecondhandStandardSwallow,andhestoppedforamomentonthebrowofthehillandswitchedofftheengine
Thesummerdaywaswarmandsunny.Belowhimwasthevillage,singularlyunspoiltbyrecentdevelopments.Itlayinnocentlyandpeacefullyinthesunlight—mainlycomposedofalongstragglingstreetthatranalongundertheoverhangingbrowofAsheRidge.
Itseemedsingularlyremote,strangelyuntouched.Lukethought,“I’mprobablymad.Thewholething’sfantastic.”
Hadhereallycomeheresolemnlytohuntdownakiller—simplyonthestrengthofsomegarrulousramblingsonthepartofanoldlady,andachanceobituarynotice?
Heshookhishead.
“Surelythesethingsdon’thappen,”hemurmured.“Or—dothey?Luke,myboy,it’suptoyoutofindoutifyou’retheworld’smostcredulousprizeass,orifyourpoliceman’snosehasledyouhotonthescent.”
Heswitchedontheengine,threwinthegearanddrovegentlydownthetwistingroadandsoenteredthemainstreet.
Wychwood,ashasbeensaid,consistsmainlyofitsoneprincipalstreet.Therewereshops,smallGeorgianhouses,primandaristocratic,withwhitenedstepsandpolishedknockers,therewerepicturesquecottageswithflowergardens.Therewasaninn,theBellsandMotley,standingalittlebackfromthestreet.Therewasavillagegreenandaduckpond,andpresidingoverthemadignifiedGeorgianhousewhichLukethoughtatfirstmustbehisdestination,AsheManor.ButoncomingnearerhesawthattherewasalargepaintedboardannouncingthatitwastheMuseumandLibrary.Fartherontherewasananachronism,alargewhitemodernbuilding,austereandirrelevanttothecheerfulhaphazardnessoftherestoftheplace.Itwas,Lukegathered,alocalInstituteandLads’Club.
Itwasatthispointthathestoppedandaskedthewaytohisdestination.
HewastoldthatAsheManorwasabouthalfamilefartheron—hewouldseethegatesonhisright.
Lukecontinuedhiscourse.Hefoundthegateseasily—theywereofnewandelaboratewroughtiron.Hedrovein,caughtagleamofredbrickthroughthetrees,andturnedacornerofthedrivetobestupefiedbytheappallingandincongruouscastellatedmassthatgreetedhiseyes.
Whilehewascontemplatingthenightmare,thesunwentin.HebecamesuddenlyconsciousoftheoverlyingmenaceofAsheRidge.Therewasasuddensharpgustofwind,blowingbacktheleavesofthetrees,andatthatmomentagirlcameroundthecornerofthecastellatedmansion.
HerblackhairwasblownupoffherheadbythesuddengustandLukewasremindedofapicturehehadonceseen—Nevinson’s“Witch.”Thelongpaledelicateface,theblackhairflyinguptothestars.Hecouldseethisgirlonabroomstickflyinguptothemoon….
Shecamestraighttowardshim.
“YoumustbeLukeFitzwilliam.I’mBridgetConway.”
Hetookthehandsheheldout.Hecouldseehernowasshewas—notinasuddenmomentoffantasy.Tall,slender,alongdelicatefacewithslightlyhollowcheekbones—ironicblackbrows—blackeyesandhair.Shewaslikeadelicateetching,hethought—poignantandbeautiful.
HehadhadanacknowledgedpictureatthebackofhismindduringhisvoyagehometoEngland—apictureofanEnglishgirlflushedandsunburnt—strokingahorse’sneck,stoopingtoweedaherbaceousborder,sittingholdingoutherhandstotheblazeofawoodfire.Ithadbeenawarmgraciousvision….
Now—hedidn’tknowifhelikedBridgetConwayornot—butheknewthatthatsecretpicturewaveredandbrokeup—becamemeaninglessandfoolish….
Hesaid:
“Howd’youdo?Imustapologizeforwishingmyselfonyoulikethis.Jimmywouldhaveitthatyouwouldn’tmind.”
“Oh,wedon’t.We’redelighted.”Shesmiled,asuddencurvingsmilethatbroughtthecornersofherlongmouthhalfwayuphercheeks.“JimmyandIalwaysstandintogether.Andifyou’rewritingabookonfolklorethisisasplendidplace.Allsortsoflegendsandpicturesquespots.”
“Splendid,”saidLuke.
Theywenttogethertowardsthehouse.Lukestoleanotherglanceatit.HediscernednowtracesofasoberQueenAnnedwellingoverlaidandsmotheredbythefloridmagnificence.HerememberedthatJimmyhadmentionedthehouseashavingoriginallybelongedtoBridget’sfamily.That,hethoughtgrimly,wasinitsunadorneddays.Stealingaglanceatthelineofherprofile,atthelongbeautifulhands,hewondered.
Shewasabouttwenty-eightor-nine,hesupposed.Andshehadbrains.Andshewasoneofthosepeopleaboutwhomyouknewabsolutelynothingunlesstheychosethatyoushould….
Inside,thehousewascomfortableandingoodtaste—thegoodtasteofafirst-classdecorator.BridgetConwayledthewaytoaroomwithbookshelvesandcomfortablechairswhereateatablestoodnearthewindowwithtwopeoplesittingbyit.
Shesaid:
“Gordon,thisisLuke,asortofcousinofacousinofmine.”
LordWhitfieldwasasmallmanwithasemi-baldhead.Hisfacewasroundandingenuous,withapoutingmouthandboiledgooseberryeyes.Hewasdressedincareless-lookingcountryclothes.Theywereunkindtohisfigure,whichranmostlytostomach.
HegreetedLukewithaffability.
“Gladtoseeyou—veryglad.JustcomebackfromtheEast,Ihear?Interestingplace.Writingabook,soBridgettellsme.Theysaytoomanybooksarewrittennowadays.Isayno—alwaysroomforagoodone.”
Bridgetsaid,“Myaunt,Mrs.Anstruther,”andLukeshookhandswithamiddle-agedwomanwitharatherfoolishmouth
Mrs.Anstruther,asLukesoonlearned,wasdevotedbodyandsoultogardening.Shenevertalkedofanythingelse,andhermindwasconstantlyoccupiedbyconsiderationsofwhethersomerareplantwaslikelytodowellintheplacesheintendedtoputit.
Afteracknowledgingtheintroduction,shesaidnow:
“Youknow,Gordon,theidealspotforarockerywouldbejustbeyondtherosegarden,andthenyoucouldhavethemostmarvellouswatergardenwherethestreamcomesthroughthatdip.”
LordWhitfieldstretchedhimselfbackinhischair.
“YoufixallthatwithBridget,”hesaideasily.“Rockplantsarenigglylittlethings,Ithink—butthatdoesn’tmatter.”
Bridgetsaid:
“Rockplantsaren’tsufficientlyinthegrandmannerforyou,Gordon.”
ShepouredoutsometeaforLukeandLordWhitfieldsaidplacidly:
“That’sright.They’renotwhatIcallgoodvalueformoney.Littlebitsofflowersyoucanhardlysee…Ilikeaniceshowinaconservatory,orsomegoodbedsofscarletgeraniums.”
Mrs.Anstruther,whopossessedparexcellencethegiftofcontinuingwithherownsubjectundisturbedbythatofanyoneelse,said:
“Ibelievethosenewrockroseswoulddoperfectlyinthisclimate,”andproceededtoimmerseherselfincatalogues
Throwinghissquatlittlefigurebackinhischair,LordWhitfieldsippedhisteaandstudiedLukeappraisingly.
“Soyouwritebooks,”hemurmured.
Feelingslightlynervous,LukewasabouttoenteronexplanationswhenheperceivedthatLordWhitfieldwasnotreallyseekingforinformation.
“I’veoftenthought,”saidhislordshipcomplacently,“thatI’dliketowriteabookmyself.”
“Yes?”saidLuke.
“Icould,markyou,”saidLordWhitfield.“Andaveryinterestingbookitwouldbe.I’vecomeacrossalotofinterestingpeople.Troubleis,Ihaven’tgotthetime.I’maverybusyman.”
“Ofcourse.Youmustbe.”
“Youwouldn’tbelievewhatI’vegotonmyshoulders,”saidLordWhitfield.“Itakeapersonalinterestineachoneofmypublications.IconsiderthatI’mresponsibleformouldingthepublicmind.NextweekmillionsofpeoplewillbethinkingandfeelingjustexactlywhatI’veintendedtomakethemfeelandthink.That’saverysolemnthought.Thatmeansresponsibility.Well,Idon’tmindresponsibility.I’mnotafraidofit.Icandowithresponsibility.”
LordWhitfieldswelledouthischest,attemptedtodrawinhisstomach,andglaredamiablyatLuke.
BridgetConwaysaidlightly:
“You’reagreatman,Gordon.Havesomemoretea.”
LordWhitfieldrepliedsimply:
“Iamagreatman.No,Iwon’thaveanymoretea.”
Then,descendingfromhisownOlympianheightstothelevelofmoreordinarymortals,heinquiredkindlyofhisguest:
“Knowanybodyroundthispartoftheworld?”
Lukeshookhishead.Then,onanimpulse,andfeelingthatthesoonerhebegantogetdowntohisjobthebetter,headded:
“Atleast,there’samanherethatIpromisedtolookup—friendoffriendsofmine.MancalledHumbleby.He’sadoctor.”
“Oh!”LordWhitfieldstruggleduprightinhischair.“Dr.Humbleby?Pity.”
“What’sapity?”
“Diedaboutaweekago,”saidLordWhitfield.
“Oh,dear,”saidLuke.“I’msorryaboutthat.”
“Don’tthinkyou’dhavecaredforhim,”saidLordWhitfield.“Opinionated,pestilential,muddleheadedoldfool.”
“Whichmeans,”putinBridget,“thathedisagreedwithGordon.”
“Questionofourwatersupply,”saidLordWhitfield.“Imaytellyou,Mr.Fitzwilliam,thatI’mapublic-spiritedman.I’vegotthewelfareofthistownatheart.Iwasbornhere.Yes,borninthisverytown—”
WithchagrinLukeperceivedthattheyhadleftthetopicofDr.HumblebyandhadrevertedtothetopicofLordWhitfield.
“I’mnotashamedofitandIdon’tcarewhoknowsit,”wentonthatgentleman.“Ihadnoneofyournaturaladvantages.Myfatherkeptaboot-shop—yes,aplainboot-shop.AndIservedinthatshopwhenIwasayounglad.Iraisedmyselfbymyownefforts,Fitzwilliam—Ideterminedtogetoutoftherut—andIgotoutoftherut!Perseverance,hardworkandthehelpofGod—that’swhatdidit!That’swhatmademewhatIamtoday.”
ExhaustivedetailsofLordWhitfield’scareerwereproducedforLuke’sbenefitandtheformerwounduptriumphantly:
“AndhereIamandthewholeworld’swelcometoknowhowI’vegothere!I’mnotashamedofmybeginnings—no,sir—I’vecomebackherewhereIwasborn.Doyouknowwhatstandswheremyfather’sshopusedtobe?Afinebuildingbuiltandendowedbyme—Institute,Boys’Clubs,everythingtip-topanduptodate.Employedthebestarchitectinthecountry!Imustsayhe’smadeabareplainjobofit—lookslikeaworkhouseoraprisontome—buttheysayit’sallright,soIsupposeitmustbe.”
“Cheerup,”saidBridget.“Youhadyourownwayoverthishouse!”
LordWhitfieldchuckledappreciatively.
“Yes,theytriedtoputitoveronmehere!Carryouttheoriginalspiritofthebuilding.No,Isaid,I’mgoingtoliveintheplace,andIwantsomethingtoshowformymoney!Whenonearchitectwouldn’tdowhatIwantedIsackedhimandgotanother.ThefellowIgotintheendunderstoodmyideasprettywell.”
“Hepanderedtoyourworstflightsofimagination,”saidBridget.
“She’dhavelikedtheplaceleftasitwas,”saidLordWhitfield.Hepattedherarm.“Nouselivinginthepast,mydear.ThoseoldGeorgesdidn’tknowmuch.Ididn’twantaplainredbrickhouse.Ialwayshadafancyforacastle—andnowI’vegotone!”Headded,“Iknowmytasteisn’tveryclassy,soIgaveagoodfirmcarteblanchetodotheinside,andImustsaytheyhaven’tdonetoobadly—thoughsomeofitisabitdrab.”
“Well,”saidLuke,alittleatalossforwords,“it’sagreatthingtoknowwhatyouwant.”
“AndIusuallygetittoo,”saidtheother,chuckling.
“Younearlydidn’tgetyourwayaboutthewaterscheme,”Bridgetremindedhim.
“Oh,that!”saidLordWhitfield.“Humblebywasafool.Theseelderlymenareinclinedtobepigheaded.Theywon’tlistentoreason.”
“Dr.Humblebywasratheranoutspokenman,wasn’the?”Lukeventured.“Hemadeagoodmanyenemiesthatway,Ishouldimagine.”
“N-no,Idon’tknowthatIshouldsaythat,”demurredLordWhitfield,rubbinghisnose.“Eh,Bridget?”
“Hewasverypopularwitheveryone,Ialwaysthought,”saidBridget.“Ionlysawhimwhenhecameaboutmyanklethattime,butIthoughthewasadear.”
“Yes,hewaspopularenoughonthewhole,”admittedLordWhitfield.“ThoughIknowoneortwopeoplewhohaditinforhim.Pigheadednessagain.”
“Oneortwoofthepeoplelivinghere?”
LordWhitfieldnodded.
“Lotsoflittlefeudsandcliquesinaplacelikethis,”hesaid.
“Yes,Isupposeso,”saidLuke.Hehesitated,uncertainofhisnextstep.
“Whatsortofpeopleliveheremostly?”hequeried.
Itwasratheraweakquestion,buthegotaninstantresponse.
“Relicts,mostly,”saidBridget.“Clergymen’sdaughtersandsistersandwives.Doctors’dittoes.Aboutsixwomentoeveryman.”
“Buttherearesomemen?”hazardedLuke.
“Oh,yes,there’sMr.Abbot,thesolicitor,andyoungDr.Thomas,Dr.Humbleby’spartner,andMr.Wake,therector,and—whoelseisthere,Gordon?Oh!Mr.Ellsworthy,whokeepstheantiqueshopandwhoistoo,tooterriblysweet!AndMajorHortonandhisbulldogs.”
“There’ssomebodyelseIbelievemyfriendsmentionedaslivingdownhere,”saidLuke.“Theysaidshewasaniceoldpussybuttalkedalot.”
Bridgetlaughed.“Thatappliestohalfthevillage!”
“Whatwasthenamenow?I’vegotit.Pinkerton.”
LordWhitfieldsaidwithahoarsechuckle:
“Really,you’venoluck!She’sdeadtoo.GotrunovertheotherdayinLondon.Killedoutright.”
“Youseemtohavealotofdeathshere,”saidLukelightly.
LordWhitfieldbridledimmediately.
“Notatall.OneofthehealthiestplacesinEngland.Can’tcountaccidents.Theymayhappentoanyone.”
ButBridgetConwaysaidthoughtfully:
“Asamatteroffact,Gordon,therehavebeenalotofdeathsinthelastyear.They’realwayshavingfunerals.”
“Nonsense,mydear.”
Lukesaid:
“WasDr.Humbleby’sdeathanaccidenttoo?”
LordWhitfieldshookhishead.
“Oh,no,”hesaid.“Humblebydiedofacuteseptic?mia.Justlikeadoctor.Scratchedhisfingerwitharustynailorsomething—paidnoattentiontoit,anditturnedseptic.Hewasdeadinthreedays.”
“Doctorsareratherlikethat,”saidBridget.“Andofcourse,they’reveryliabletoinfection,Isuppose,iftheydon’ttakecare.Itwassad,though.Hiswifewasbrokenhearted.”
“Nogoodrebellingagainstthewillofprovidence,”saidLordWhitfieldeasily.
II
“Butwasitthewillofprovidence?”Lukeaskedhimselflaterashechangedintohisdinnerjacket.Septic?mia?Perhaps.Averysuddendeath,though.
AndthereechoedthroughhisheadBridgetConway’slightlyspokenwords:
“Therehavebeenalotofdeathsinthelastyear.”
Four
LUKEMAKESABEGINNING
Lukehadthoughtouthisplanofcampaignwithsomecare,andpreparedtoputitintoactionwithoutmoreadowhenhecamedowntobreakfastthefollowingmorning.
Thegardeningauntwasnotinevidence,butLordWhitfieldwaseatingkidneysanddrinkingcoffee,andBridgetConwayhadfinishedhermealandwasstandingatthewindow,lookingout.
AftergoodmorningshadbeenexchangedandLukehadsatdownwithaplentifullyheapedplateofeggsandbacon,hebegan:
“Imustgettowork,”hesaid.“Difficultthingistoinducepeopletotalk.YouknowwhatImean—notpeoplelikeyouand—er—Bridget.”(HerememberedjustintimenottosayMissConway.)“You’dtellmeanythingyouknew—butthetroubleisyouwouldn’tknowthethingsIwanttoknow—thatisthelocalsuperstitions.You’dhardlybelievetheamountofsuperstitionthatstilllingersinout-of-the-waypartsoftheworld.Why,there’savillageinDevonshire.Therectorhadtoremovesomeoldgranitemenhirsthatstoodbythechurchbecausethepeoplepersistedinmarchingroundtheminsomeoldritualeverytimetherewasadeath.Extraordinaryhowoldheathenritespersists.”
“Daresayyou’reright,”saidLordWhitfield.“Education,that’swhatpeopleneed.DidItellyouthatI’dendowedaveryfinelibraryhere?Usedtobetheoldmanorhouse—wasgoingforasong—nowit’soneofthefinestlibraries—”
LukefirmlyquelledthetendencyoftheconversationtoturninthedirectionofLordWhitfield’sdoings.
“Splendid,”hesaidheartily.“Goodwork.You’veevidentlyrealizedthebackgroundofold-worldignorancethereishere.Ofcourse,frommypointofview,that’sjustwhatIwant.Oldcustoms—oldwives’tales—hintsoftheoldritualssuchas—”
HerefollowedalmostverbatimapageofaworkthatLukehadreadupfortheoccasion.
“Deathsarethemosthopefulline,”heended.“Burialritesandcustomsalwayssurvivelongerthananyothers.Besides,forsomereasonorother,villagepeoplealwaysliketalkingaboutdeaths.”
“Theyenjoyfunerals,”agreedBridgetfromthewindow.
“IthoughtI’dmakethatmystarting-point,”wentonLuke.“IfIcangetalistofrecentdemisesintheparish,trackdowntherelativesandgetintoconversation,I’venodoubtIshallsoongetahintofwhatI’mafter.WhomhadIbettergetthedatafrom—theparson?”
“Mr.Wakewouldprobablybeveryinterested,”saidBridget.“He’squiteanolddearandabitofanantiquary.Hecouldgiveyoualotofstuff,Iexpect.”
Lukehadamomentaryqualmduringwhichhehopedthattheclergymanmightnotbesoefficientanantiquaryastoexposehisownpretensions.
Aloudhesaidheartily:
“Good.You’venoidea,Isuppose,oflikelypeoplewho’vediedduringthelastyear.”
Bridgetmurmured:
“Letmesee.Carter,ofcourse.HewasthelandlordoftheSevenStars,thatnastylittlepubdownbytheriver.”
“Adrunkenruffian,”saidLordWhitfield.“Oneofthesesocialistic,abusivebrutes,agoodriddance.”
“AndMrs.Rose,thelaundress,”wentonBridget.“AndlittleTommyPierce—hewasanastylittleboyifyoulike.Oh,ofcourse,andthatgirlAmywhat’s-her-name.”
Hervoicechangedslightlyassheutteredthelastname.
“Amy?”saidLuke.
“AmyGibbs.ShewashousemaidhereandthenshewenttoMissWaynflete.Therewasaninquestonher.”
“Why?”
“Foolofagirlmixedupsomebottlesinthedark,”saidLordWhitfield.
“Shetookwhatshethoughtwascoughmixtureanditwashatpaint,”explainedBridget.
Lukeraisedhiseyebrows.
“Somewhatofatragedy.”
Bridgetsaid:
“Therewassomeideaofherhavingdoneitonpurpose.Somerowwithayoungman.”
Shespokeslowly—almostreluctantly.
Therewasapause.Lukefeltinstinctivelythepresenceofsomeunspokenfeelingweighingdowntheatmosphere.
Hethought:
“AmyGibbs?Yes,thatwasoneofthenamesoldMissPinkertonmentioned.”
Shehadalsomentionedasmallboy—Tommysomeone—ofwhomshehadevidentlyheldalowopinion(this,itseemed,wassharedbyBridget!)Andyes—hewasalmostsure—thenameCarterhadbeenspokentoo.
Rising,hesaidlightly:
“Talkinglikethismakesmefeelratherghoulish—asthoughIdabbledonlyingraveyards.Marriagecustomsareinterestingtoo—butrathermoredifficulttointroduceintoconversationunconcernedly.”
“Ishouldimaginethatwaslikely,”saidBridgetwithafainttwitchofthelips.
“Ill-wishingoroverlooking,there’sanotherinterestingsubject,”wentonLukewithawould-beshowofenthusiasm.“Youoftengetthatintheseold-worldplaces.Knowofanygossipofthatkindhere?”
LordWhitfieldslowlyshookhishead.BridgetConwaysaid:
“Weshouldn’tbelikelytohearofthingslikethat—”
Luketookitupalmostbeforeshefinishedspeaking.
“Nodoubtaboutit,I’vegottomoveinlowersocialspherestogetwhatIwant.I’llbeofftothevicaragefirstandseewhatIcangetthere.Afterthatperhapsavisittothe—SevenStars,didyousay?Andwhataboutthesmallboyofunpleasanthabits?Didheleaveanysorrowingrelatives?”
“Mrs.PiercekeepsatobaccoandpapershopinHighStreet.”
“That,”saidLuke,“isnothinglessthanprovidential.Well,I’llbeonmyway.”
WithaswiftgracefulmovementBridgetmovedfromthewindow.
“Ithink,”shesaid,“I’llcomewithyou,ifyoudon’tmind.”
“Ofcoursenot.”
Hesaiditasheartilyaspossible,buthewonderedifshehadnoticedthat,justforamoment,hehadbeentakenaback.
Itwouldhavebeeneasierforhimtohandleanelderlyantiquarianclergymanwithoutanalertdiscerningintelligencebyhisside.
“Ohwell,”hethoughttohimself.“It’suptometodomystuffconvincingly.”
Bridgetsaid:
“Willyoujustwait,Luke,whileIchangemyshoes?”
Luke—theChristiannameutteredsoeasilygavehimaqueerwarmfeeling.Andyetwhatelsecouldshehavecalledhim?SinceshehadagreedtoJimmy’sschemeofcousinshipshecouldhardlycallhimMr.Fitzwilliam.Hethoughtsuddenlyanduneasily,“Whatdoesshethinkofitall?InGod’snamewhatdoesshethink?”
Queerthatthathadnotworriedhimbeforehand.Jimmy’scousinhadjustbeenaconvenientabstraction—alayfigure.Hehadhardlyvisualizedher,justacceptedhisfriend’sdictumthat“Bridgetwouldbeallright.”
Hehadthoughtofher—ifhehadthoughtofheratall—asalittleblondesecretaryperson—astuteenoughtohavecapturedarichman’sfancy.
Insteadshehadforce,brains,acoolclearintelligenceandhehadnoideawhatshewasthinkingofhim.Hethought:She’snotaneasypersontodeceive.
“I’mreadynow.”
Shehadjoinedhimsosilentlythathehadnotheardherapproach.Sheworenohat,andtherewasnonetonherhair.Astheysteppedoutfromthehousethewind,sweepingroundthecornerofthecastellatedmonstrosity,caughtherlongblackhairandwhippeditintoasuddenfrenzyroundherface.
Shesaidsmiling:
“Youneedmetoshowyoutheway.”
“It’sverykindofyou,”heansweredpunctiliously.
Andwonderedifhehadimaginedasuddenswiftlypassingironicsmile.
Lookingbackatthebattlementsbehindhim,hesaidirritably:
“Whatanabomination!Couldn’tanyonestophim?”
Bridgetanswered:“AnEnglishman’shouseishiscastle—literallysoinGordon’scase!Headoresit.”
Consciousthattheremarkwasinbadtaste,yetunabletocontrolhistongue,hesaid:
“It’syouroldhome,isn’tit?Doyou‘adore’toseeitthewayitisnow?”
Shelookedathimthen—asteadyslightlyamusedlookitwas.
“Ihatetodestroythedramaticpictureyouarebuildingup,”shemurmured.“ButactuallyIleftherewhenIwastwoandahalf,soyouseetheoldhomemotivedoesn’tapply.Ican’tevenrememberthisplace.”
“You’reright,”saidLuke.“Forgivethelapseintofilmlanguage.”
Shelaughed.
“Truth,”shesaid,“isseldomromantic.”
Andtherewasasuddenbitterscorninhervoicethatstartledhim.Heflushedadeepredunderhistan,thenrealizedsuddenlythatthebitternesshadnotbeenaimedathim.Itwasherownscornandherownbitterness.Lukewaswiselysilent.ButhewonderedagooddealaboutBridgetConway….
Fiveminutesbroughtthemtothechurchandtothevicaragethatadjoinedit.Theyfoundthevicarinhisstudy.
AlfredWakewasasmallstoopingoldmanwithverymildblueeyes,andanabsentmindedbutcourteousair.Heseemedpleasedbutalittlesurprisedbythevisit.
“Mr.FitzwilliamisstayingwithusatAsheManor,”saidBridget,“andhewantstoconsultyouaboutabookheiswriting.”
Mr.Waketurnedhismildinquiringeyestowardstheyoungerman,andLukeplungedintoexplanations.
Hewasnervous—doublyso.Nervousinthefirstplacebecausethismanhadnodoubtafardeeperknowledgeoffolkloreandsuperstitiousritesandcustomsthanonecouldacquirebymerelyhurriedlycrammingfromahaphazardcollectionofbooks.SecondlyhewasnervousbecauseBridgetConwaywasstandingbylistening.
LukewasrelievedtofindthatMr.Wake’sspecialinterestwasRomanremains.Heconfessedgentlythatheknewverylittleofmedievalfolkloreandwitchcraft.HementionedtheexistenceofcertainitemsinthehistoryofWychwood,offeredtotakeLuketotheparticularledgeofhillwhereitwassaidtheWitches’Sabbathshadbeenheld,butexpressedhimselfregretfulthathecouldaddnospecialinformationofhisown.
Inwardlymuchrelieved,Lukeexpressedhimselfassomewhatdisappointed,andthenplungedintoinquiriesastodeathbedsuperstitions.
Mr.Wakeshookhisheadgently.
“IamafraidIshouldbethelastpersontoknowaboutthose.Myparishionerswouldbecarefultokeepanythingunorthodoxfrommyears.”
“That’sso,ofcourse.”
“ButI’venodoubt,allthesame,thereisalotofsuperstitionstillrife.Thesevillagecommunitiesareverybackward.”
Lukeplungedboldly.
“I’vebeenaskingMissConwayforalistofalltherecentdeathsshecouldremember.IthoughtImightgetatsomethingthatway.Isupposeyoucouldsupplymewithalist,sothatIcouldpickoutthelikelies.”
“Yes—yes—thatcouldbemanaged.Giles,oursexton,agoodfellowbutsadlydeaf,couldhelpyouthere.Letmeseenow.Therehavebeenagoodmany—agoodmany—atreacherousspringandahardwinterbehindit—andthenagoodmanyaccidents—quiteacycleofbadluckthereseemstohavebeen.”
“Sometimes,”saidLuke,“acycleofbadluckisattributedtothepresenceofaparticularperson.”
“Yes,yes.TheoldstoryofJonah.ButIdonotthinktherehavebeenanystrangershere—nobody,thatistosay,outstandinginanyway,andI’vecertainlyneverheardanyrumourofsuchfeeling—butthenagain,asIsaid,perhapsIshouldn’t.Nowletmesee—quiterecentlywehavehadDr.HumblebyandpoorLaviniaPinkerton—afineman,Dr.Humbleby—”
Bridgetputin:
“Mr.Fitzwilliamknowsfriendsofhis.”
“Doyouindeed?Verysad.Hislosswillbemuchfelt.Amanwithmanyfriends.”
“Butsurelyamanwithsomeenemiestoo,”saidLuke.“I’monlygoingbywhatI’veheardmyfriendssay,”hewentonhastily.
Mr.Wakesighed.
“Amanwhospokehismind—andamanwhowasn’talwaysverytactful,shallwesay—”heshookhishead.“Itdoesgetpeople’sbacksup.Buthewasgreatlybelovedamongthepoorerclasses.”
Lukesaidcarelessly:
“YouknowIalwaysfeelthatoneofthemostunpalatablefactstobefacedinlife,isthefactthateverydeaththatoccursmeansagaintosomeone—Idon’tmeanonlyfinancially.”
Thevicarnoddedthoughtfully.
“Iseeyourmeaning,yes.Wereadinanobituarynoticethatamanisregrettedbyeverybody,butthatcanonlybetrueveryrarelyIfear.InDr.Humbleby’scase,thereisnodenyingthathispartner,Dr.Thomas,willfindhispositionverymuchimprovedbyDr.Humbleby’sdeath.”
“Howisthat?”
“Thomas,Ibelieve,isaverycapablefellow—certainlyHumblebyalwayssaidso,buthedidn’tgetonhereverywell.Hewas,Ithink,overshadowedbyHumblebywhowasamanofverydefinitemagnetism.Thomasappearedrathercolourlessincontrast.Hedidn’timpresshispatientsatall.Ithinkheworriedoverit,too,andthatmadehimworse—morenervousandtongue-tied.AsamatteroffactI’venoticedanastonishingdifferencealready.Moreaplomb—morepersonality.Ithinkhefeelsanewconfidenceinhimself.HeandHumblebydidn’talwaysagree,Ibelieve.ThomaswasallfornewermethodsoftreatmentandHumblebypreferredtosticktotheoldways.Therewereclashesbetweenthemmorethanonce—overthataswellasoveramatternearerhome—butthere,Imustn’tgossip—”
Bridgetsaidsoftlyandclearly:
“ButIthinkMr.Fitzwilliamwouldlikeyoutogossip!”
Lukeshotheraquickdisturbedlook.
Mr.Wakeshookhisheaddoubtfully,andthenwenton,smilingalittleindeprecation.
“Iamafraidonelearnstotaketoomuchinterestinone’sneighbours’affairs.RoseHumblebyisaveryprettygirl.Onedoesn’twonderthatGeoffreyThomaslosthisheart.AndofcourseHumbleby’spointofviewwasquiteunderstandabletoo—thegirlisyoungandburiedawayhereshehadn’tmuchchanceofseeingothermen.”
“Heobjected?”saidLuke.
“Verydefinitely.Saidtheywerefartooyoung.Andofcourseyoungpeopleresentbeingtoldthat!Therewasaverydefinitecoldnessbetweenthetwomen.ButImustsaythatI’msureDr.Thomaswasdeeplydistressedathispartner’sunexpecteddeath.”
“Septic?mia,LordWhitfieldtoldme.”
“Yes—justalittlescratchthatgotinfected.Doctorsrungraverisksinthecourseoftheirprofession,Mr.Fitzwilliam.”
“Theydoindeed,”saidLuke.
Mr.Wakegaveasuddenstart.
“ButIhavewanderedalongwayfromwhatweweretalkingabout,”hesaid.“Agossipingoldman,Iamafraid.Wewerespeakingofthesurvivalofpagandeathcustomsandofrecentdeaths.TherewasLaviniaPinkerton—oneofourmorekindlyChurchhelpers.Thentherewasthatpoorgirl,AmyGibbs—youmightdiscoversomethinginyourlinethere,Mr.Fitzwilliam—therewasjustasuspicion,youknow,thatitmighthavebeensuicide—andtherearecertainrathereerieritesinconnectionwiththattypeofdeath.Thereisanaunt—not,Ifear,averyestimablewoman,andnotverymuchattachedtoherniece—butagreattalker.”
“Valuable,”saidLuke.
“ThentherewasTommyPierce—hewasinthechoiratonetime—abeautifultreble—quiteangelic—butnotaveryangelicboyotherwise,Iamafraid.Wehadtogetridofhimintheend,hemadetheotherboysbehavesobadly.Poorlad,I’mafraidhewasnotverymuchlikedanywhere.Hewasdismissedfromthepostofficewherewegothimajobastelegraphboy.HewasinMr.Abbot’sofficeforawhile,butthereagainhewasdismissedverysoon—interferedwithsomeconfidentialpapers,Ibelieve.Then,ofcourse,hewasatAsheManorforatime,wasn’the,MissConway,asgardenboy,andLordWhitfieldhadtodischargehimforgrossimpertinence.Iwassosorryforhismother—averydecenthardworkingsoul.MissWaynfleteverykindlygothimsomeoddwindowcleaningwork.LordWhitfieldobjectedatfirst,thensuddenlyhegavein—actuallyitwassadthathedidso.”
“Why?”
“Becausetheboywaskilledthatway.Hewascleaningthetopwindowsofthelibrary(theoldHall,youknow)andtriedsomesillyfooling—dancingonthewindowledgeorsomethingofthatsort—losthisbalance,orelsebecamedizzy,andfell.Anastybusiness!Heneverrecoveredconsciousnessanddiedafewhoursaftertheygothimtohospital.”
“Didanyoneseehimfall?”askedLukewithinterest.
“No.Hewasonthegardenside—notthefrontofthehouse.Theyestimatehelaythereforabouthalfanhourbeforeanyonefoundhim.”
“Whodidfindhim?”
“MissPinkerton.Youremember,theladyImentionedjustnowwhowasunfortunatelykilledinastreetaccidenttheotherday.Poorsoul,shewasterriblyupset.Anastyexperience!Shehadobtainedpermissiontotakeacuttingofsomeplantsandfoundtheboytherelyingwherehehadfallen.”
“Itmusthavebeenaveryunpleasantshock,”saidLukethoughtfully.
“Agreatershock,”hethoughttohimself,“thanyouknow.”
“Ayounglifecutshortisaverysadthing,”saidtheoldman,shakinghishead.“Tommy’sfaultsmayhavebeenmainlyduetohighspirits.”
“Hewasadisgustingbully,”saidBridget.“Youknowhewas,Mr.Wake.Alwaystormentingcatsandstraypuppiesandpinchingotherlittleboys.”
“Iknow—Iknow.”Mr.Wakeshookhisheadsadly.“Butyouknow,mydearMissConway,sometimescrueltyisnotsomuchinnateasduetothefactthatimaginationisslowinripening.Thatiswhyifyouconceiveofagrownmanwiththementalityofachildyourealizethatthecunningandbrutalityofalunaticmaybequiteunrealizedbythemanhimself.Alackofgrowthsomewhere,that,Iamconvinced,isattherootofmuchofthecrueltyandstupidbrutalityintheworldtoday.Onemustputawaychildishthings—”
Heshookhisheadandspreadouthishands.
Bridgetsaidinavoicesuddenlyhoarse:
“Yes,you’reright.Iknowwhatyoumean.Amanwhoisachildisthemostfrighteningthingintheworld….”
Lukelookedatherwithsomecuriosity.Hewasconvincedthatshewasthinkingofsomeparticularperson,andalthoughLordWhitfieldwasinsomerespectsexceedinglychildish,hedidnotbelieveshewasthinkingofhim.LordWhitfieldwasslightlyridiculous,buthewascertainlynotfrightening.
LukeFitzwilliamwonderedverymuchwhomthepersonBridgetwasthinkingofmightbe.
Five
VISITTOMISSWAYNFLETE
Mr.Wakemurmuredafewmorenamestohimself.
“Letmeseenow—poorMrs.Rose,andoldBellandthatchildoftheElkinsandHarryCarter—they’renotallmypeople,youunderstand.Mrs.RoseandCarterweredissenters.AndthatcoldspellinMarchtookoffpooroldBenStanburyatlast—ninety-twohewas.”
“AmyGibbsdiedinApril,”saidBridget.
“Yes,poorgirl—asadmistaketohappen.”
LukelookeduptofindBridgetwatchinghim.Sheloweredhereyesquickly.Hethought,withsomeannoyance:
“There’ssomethingherethatIhaven’tgotonto.SomethingtodowiththisgirlAmyGibbs.”
Whentheyhadtakenleaveofthevicarandwereoutsideagain,hesaid:
“JustwhoandwhatwasAmyGibbs?”
Bridgettookaminuteortwotoanswer.Thenshesaid—andLukenoticedtheslightconstraintinhervoice:
“AmywasoneofthemostinefficienthousemaidsIhaveeverknown.”
“That’swhyshegotthesack?”
“No.Shestayedoutafterhoursplayingaboutwithsomeyoungman.Gordonhasverymoralandold-fashionedviews.Sininhisviewdoesnottakeplaceuntilaftereleveno’clock,butthenitisrampant.Sohegavethegirlnoticeandshewasimpertinentaboutit!”
Lukeasked:“Agood-lookinggirl?”
“Verygood-looking.”
“She’stheonewhoswallowedhatpaintinmistakeforcoughmixture?”
“Yes.”
“Ratherastupidthingtodo?”Lukehazarded.
“Verystupid.”
“Wasshestupid?”
“No,shewasquiteasharpgirl.”
Lukestolealookather.Hewaspuzzled.Herrepliesweregiveninaneventone,withoutemphasisorevenmuchinterest.Butbehindwhatshesaid,therewas,hefeltconvinced,somethingnotputintowords.
AtthatmomentBridgetstoppedtospeaktoatallmanwhosweptoffhishatandgreetedherwithbreezyheartiness.
Bridget,afterawordortwo,introducedLuke.
“Thisismycousin,Mr.Fitzwilliam,whoisstayingattheManor.He’sdownheretowriteabook.ThisisMr.Abbot.”
LukelookedatMr.Abbotwithsomeinterest.ThiswasthesolicitorwhohademployedTommyPierce.
Lukehadasomewhatillogicalprejudiceagainstlawyersingeneral—basedonthegroundsthatsomanypoliticianswererecruitedfromtheirranks.Alsotheircautioushabitofnotcommittingthemselvesannoyedhim.Mr.Abbot,however,wasnotatalltheconventionaltypeoflawyer,hewasneitherthin,spare,nortight-lipped.Hewasabigfloridman,dressedintweedswithaheartymannerandajovialeffusiveness.Therewerelittlecreasesatthecornersofhiseyes,andtheeyesthemselvesweremoreshrewdthanoneappreciatedinafirstcasualglance.
“Writingabook,eh?Novel?”
“Folklore,”saidBridget.
“You’vecometotherightplaceforthat,”saidthelawyer.“Wonderfullyinterestingpartoftheworldhere.”
“SoI’vebeenledtounderstand,”saidLuke.“Idaresayyoucouldhelpmeabit.Youmustcomeacrosscuriousolddeeds—orknowofsomeinterestingsurvivingcustoms.”
“Well,Idon’tknowaboutthat—maybe—maybe—”
“Muchbeliefinghostsroundhere?”askedLuke.
“AstothatIcouldn’tsay—Ireallycouldn’tsay.”
“Nohauntedhouse?”
“No—Idon’tknowofanythingofthatkind.”
“There’sthechildsuperstition,ofcourse,”saidLuke.“Deathofaboychild—aviolentdeaththatis—theboyalwayswalks.Notagirlchild—interestingthat.”
“Very,”saidMr.Abbot.“Ineverheardthatbefore.”
SinceLukehadjustinventedit,thatwashardlysurprising.
“Seemsthere’saboyhere—Tommysomething—wasinyourofficeatonetime.I’vereasontobelievetheythinkthathe’swalking.”
Mr.Abbot’sredfaceturnedslightlypurple.
“TommyPierce?Agoodfornothing,prying,meddlesomejackanapes.”
“Spiritsalwaysseemtobemischievous.Goodlaw-abidingcitizensseldomtroublethisworldafterthey’veleftit.”
“Who’sseenhim—what’sthisstory?”
“Thesethingsaredifficulttopindown,”saidLuke.“Peoplewon’tcomeoutintotheopenwithastatement.It’sjustintheair,sotospeak.”
“Yes—yes,Isupposeso.”
Lukechangedthesubjectadroitly.
“Therealpersontogetholdofisthelocaldoctor.Theyhearalotinthepoorercasestheyattend.Allsortsofsuperstitionsandcharms—probablylovephiltresandalltherestofit.”
“YoumustgetontoThomas.Goodfellow,Thomas,thoroughlyup-to-dateman.NotlikepooroldHumbleby.”
“Bitofareactionary,wasn’the?”
“Absolutelypigheaded—adiehardoftheworstdescription.”
“Youhadarealrowoverthewaterscheme,didn’tyou?”askedBridget.
AgainarichruddyglowsuffusedAbbot’sface.
“Humblebystooddeadinthewayofprogress,”hesaidsharply.“Heheldoutagainstthescheme!Hewasprettyrude,too,inwhathesaid.Didn’tmincehiswords.Someofthethingshesaidtomewerepositivelyactionable.”
Bridgetmurmured:“Butlawyersnevergotolaw,dothey?Theyknowbetter.”
Abbotlaughedimmoderately.Hisangersubsidedasquicklyasithadarisen.
“Prettygood,MissBridget!Andyou’renotfarwrong.Wewhoareinitknowtoomuchaboutlaw,ha,ha.Well,Imustbegettingalong.GivemeacallifyouthinkIcanhelpyouinanyway,Mr.—er—”
“Fitzwilliam,”saidLuke.“Thanks,Iwill.”
AstheywalkedonBridgetsaid:
“Yourmethods,Inote,aretomakestatementsandseewhattheyprovoke.”
“Mymethods,”saidLuke,“arenotstrictlytruthful,ifthatiswhatyoumean?”
“I’venoticedthat.”
Alittleuneasy,hehesitatedwhattosaynext.Butbeforehecouldspeak,shesaid:
“IfyouwanttohearmoreaboutAmyGibbs,Icantakeyoutosomeonewhocouldhelpyou.”
“Whoisthat?”
“AMissWaynflete.AmywentthereaftershelefttheManor.Shewastherewhenshedied.”
“Oh,Isee—”hewasalittletakenaback.“Well—thankyouverymuch.”
“Shelivesjusthere.”
Theywerecrossingthevillagegreen.IncliningherheadinthedirectionofthebigGeorgianhousethatLukehadnoticedthedaybefore,Bridgetsaid:“That’sWychHall.It’salibrarynow.”
AdjoiningtheHallwasalittlehousethatlookedratherlikeadoll’shouseinproportion.Itsstepsweredazzlinglywhite,itsknockershoneanditswindowcurtainsshowedwhiteandprim.
Bridgetpushedopenthegateandadvancedtothesteps.
Asshedidsothefrontdooropenedandanelderlywomancameout.
Shewas,Lukethought,completelythecountryspinster.Herthinformwasneatlydressedinatweedcoatandskirtandsheworeagreysilkblousewithacairn-gormbrooch.Herhat,aconscientiousfelt,satsquarelyuponherwell-shapedhead.Herfacewaspleasantandhereyes,throughtheirpince-nez,decidedlyintelligent.SheremindedLukeofthosenimbleblackgoatsthatoneseesinGreece.Hereyesheldjustthatqualityofmildinquiringsurprise.
“Goodmorning,MissWaynflete,”saidBridget.“ThisisMr.Fitzwilliam.”Lukebowed.“He’swritingabook—aboutdeathsandvillagecustomsandgeneralgruesomeness.”
“Oh,dear,”saidMissWaynflete.“Howveryinteresting.”
Andshebeamedencouraginglyuponhim.
HewasremindedofMissPinkerton.
“Ithought,”saidBridget—andagainhenotedthatcuriousflattoneinhervoice—“thatyoumighttellhimsomethingaboutAmy.”
“Oh,”saidMissWaynflete.“AboutAmy?Yes.AboutAmyGibbs.”
Hewasconsciousofanewfactorinherexpression.Sheseemedtobethoughtfullysumminghimup.
Then,asthoughcomingtoadecision,shedrewbackintothehall.
“Docomein,”shesaid.“Icangooutlater.No,no,”inanswertoaprotestfromLuke.“Ihadreallynothingurgenttodo.Justalittleunimportantdomesticshopping.”
Thesmalldrawingroomwasexquisitelyneatandsmelledfaintlyofburntlavender.ThereweresomeDresdenchinashepherdsandshepherdessesonthemantelpiece,simperingsweetly.Therewereframedwater-colours,twosamplers,andthreeneedleworkpicturesonthewall.Thereweresomephotographsofwhatwereobviouslynephewsandniecesandsomegoodfurniture—aChippendaledesk,somelittlesatinwoodtables—andahideousandratheruncomfortableVictoriansofa.
MissWaynfleteofferedherguestschairsandthensaidapologetically:
“I’mafraidIdon’tsmokemyself,soIhavenocigarettes,butdopleasesmokeifyoulike.”
LukerefusedbutBridgetpromptlylightedacigarette.
Sittingboltuprightinachairwithcarvedarms,MissWaynfletestudiedherguestforamomentortwoandthendroppinghereyesasthoughsatisfied,shesaid:
“YouwanttoknowaboutthatpoorgirlAmy?Thewholethingwasverysadandcausedmeagreatdealofdistress.Suchatragicmistake.”
“Wasn’ttheresomequestionof—suicide?”askedLuke.
MissWaynfleteshookherhead.
“No,no,thatIcannotbelieveforamoment.Amywasnotatallthattype.”
“Whattypewasshe?”askedLukebluntly.“I’dliketohearyouraccountofher.”
MissWaynfletesaid:
“Well,ofcourse,shewasn’tatallagoodservant.Butnowadays,really,oneisthankfultogetanybody.Shewasveryslipshodoverherworkandalwayswantingtogoout—well,ofcourseshewasyoungandgirlsarelikethatnowadays.Theydon’tseemtorealizethattheirtimeistheiremployer’s.”
LukelookedproperlysympatheticandMissWaynfleteproceededtodevelophertheme.
“Shewasn’tthesortofgirlIcarefor—ratheraboldtypethoughofcourseIwouldn’tliketosaymuchnowthatshe’sdead.Onefeelsunchristian—thoughreallyIdon’tthinkthatthatisalogicalreasonforsuppressingthetruth.”
Lukenodded.HerealizedthatMissWaynfletedifferedfromMissPinkertoninhavingamorelogicalmindandbetterprocessesofthought.
“Shewasfondofadmiration,”wentonMissWaynflete,“andwasinclinedtothinkalotofherself.Mr.Ellsworthy—hekeepsthenewantiqueshopbutheisactuallyagentleman—hedabblesalittleinwater-coloursandhehaddoneoneortwosketchesofthegirl’shead—andIthink,youknow,thatrathergaveherideas.Shewasinclinedtoquarrelwiththeyoungmanshewasengagedto—JimHarvey.He’samechanicatthegarageandveryfondofher.”
MissWaynfletepausedandthenwenton.
“Ishallneverforgetthatdreadfulnight.Amyhadbeenoutofsorts—anastycoughandonethingandanother(thosesillycheapsilkstockingstheywillwearandshoeswithpapersolespractically—ofcoursetheycatchchills)andshe’dbeentothedoctorthatafternoon.”
Lukeaskedquickly:
“Dr.HumblebyorDr.Thomas?”
“Dr.Thomas.Andhegaveherthebottleofcoughmixturethatshebroughtbackwithher.Somethingquiteharmless,astockmixture,Ibelieve.Shewenttobedearlyanditmusthavebeenaboutoneinthemorningwhenthenoisebegan—anawfulkindofchokingscream.Igotupandwenttoherdoorbutitwaslockedontheinside.Icalledtoherbutcouldn’tgetanyanswer.Cookwaswithmeandwewerebothterriblyupset.AndthenwewenttothefrontdoorandluckilytherewasReed(ourconstable)justpassingonhisbeat,andwecalledtohim.Hewentroundthebackofthehouseandmanagedtoclimbupontheouthouseroof,andasherwindowwasopenhegotinquiteeasilythatwayandunlockedthedoor.Poorgirl,itwasterrible.Theycouldn’tdoanythingforher,andshediedinHospitalafewhourslater.”
“Anditwas—what—hatpaint?”
“Yes.Oxalicacidpoisoningiswhattheycalledit.Thebottlewasaboutthesamesizeasthecoughlinctusone.Thelatterwasonherwashstandandthehatpaintwasbyherbed.Shemusthavepickedupthewrongbottleandputitbyherinthedarkreadytotakeifshefeltbadly.Thatwasthetheoryattheinquest.”
MissWaynfletestopped.Herintelligentgoat’seyeslookedathim,andhewasawarethatsomeparticularsignificancelaybehindthem.Hehadthefeelingthatshewasleavingsomepartofthestoryuntold—andastrongerfeelingthat,forsomereason,shewantedhimtobeawareofthefact.
Therewasasilence—alongandratherdifficultsilence.Lukefeltlikeanactorwhodoesnotknowhiscue.Hesaidratherweakly:
“Andyoudon’tthinkitwassuicide?”
MissWaynfletesaidpromptly:
“Certainlynot.Ifthegirlhaddecidedtomakeawaywithherself,shewouldhaveboughtsomethingprobably.Thiswasanoldbottleofstuffthatshemusthavehadforyears.Andanyway,asI’vetoldyou,shewasn’tthatkindofgirl.”
“Soyouthink—what?”saidLukebluntly.
MissWaynfletesaid:
“Ithinkitwasveryunfortunate.”
Sheclosedherlipsandlookedathimearnestly.
JustwhenLukewasfeelingthathemusttrydesperatelytosaysomethinganticipated,adiversionoccurred.Therewasascratchingatthedoorandaplaintivemew.
MissWaynfletesprangupandwenttoopenthedoor,whereuponamagnificentorangePersianwalkedin.Hepaused,lookeddisapprovinglyatthevisitor,andspranguponthearmofMissWaynflete’schair.
MissWaynfleteaddressedhiminacooingvoice.
“WhyWonkyPooh—where’smyWonkyPoohbeenallthemorning?”
Thenamestruckachordofmemory.WherehadheheardsomethingaboutaPersiancatcalledWonkyPooh?Hesaid:
“That’saveryhandsomecat.Haveyouhadhimlong?”
MissWaynfleteshookherhead.
“Oh,no,hebelongedtoanoldfriendofmine,MissPinkerton.ShewasrunoverbyoneofthesehorridmotorcarsandofcourseIcouldn’thaveletWonkyPoohgotostrangers.Laviniawouldhavebeenmostupset.Shesimplyworshippedhim—andheisverybeautifulisn’the?”
Lukeadmiredthecatgravely.
MissWaynfletesaid:“Becarefulofhisears.They’vebeenratherpainfullately.”
Lukestrokedtheanimalwarily.
Bridgetrosetoherfeet.
Shesaid,“Wemustbegoing.”
MissWaynfleteshookhandswithLuke.
“Perhaps,”shesaid,“Ishallseeyouagainbeforelong.”
Lukesaidcheerfully:“Ihopeso,I’msure.”
Hethoughtshelookedpuzzledandalittledisappointed.HergazeshiftedtoBridget—arapidlookwithahintofinterrogationinit.Lukefeltthattherewassomeunderstandingbetweenthetwowomenfromwhichhewasexcluded.Itannoyedhim,buthepromisedhimselftogettothebottomofitbeforelong.
MissWaynfletecameoutwiththem.Lukestoodaminuteonthetopofthestepslookingwithapprovalontheuntouchedprimnessofthevillagegreenandtheduckpond.
“Marvellouslyunspoilt,thisplace,”hesaid.
MissWaynflete’sfacelitup.
“Yes,indeed,”shesaideagerly.“ReallyitisstilljustasIrememberitasachild.WelivedintheHall,youknow.Butwhenitcametomybrotherhedidnotcaretoliveinit—indeedcouldnotaffordtodoso,anditwasputupforsale.Abuilderhadmadeanofferandwas,Ibelieve,goingto‘developtheland,’Ithinkthatwasthephrase.Fortunately,LordWhitfieldsteppedinandacquiredthepropertyandsavedit.Heturnedthehouseintoalibraryandmuseum—reallyitispracticallyuntouched.Iactaslibrariantwiceaweekthere—unpaid,ofcourse—andIcan’ttellyouwhatapleasureitistobeintheoldplaceandknowthatitwillnotbevandalised.Andreallyitisaperfectsetting—youmustvisitourlittlemuseumoneday,Mr.Fitzwilliam.Therearesomequiteinterestinglocalexhibits.”
“Icertainlyshallmakeapointofdoingso,MissWaynflete.”
“LordWhitfieldhasbeenagreatbenefactortoWychwood,”saidMissWaynflete.“Itgrievesmethattherearepeoplewhoaresadlyungrateful.”
Herlipspressedthemselvestogether.Lukediscreetlyaskednoquestions.Hesaidgood-byeagain.
WhentheywereoutsidethegateBridgetsaid:
“Doyouwanttopursuefurtherresearchesorshallwegohomebywayoftheriver?It’sapleasantwalk.”
Lukeansweredpromptly.HehadnomindforfurtherinvestigationswithBridgetConwaystandingbylistening.Hesaid:
“Goroundbytheriver,byallmeans.”
TheywalkedalongtheHighStreet.OneofthelasthouseshadasigndecoratedinoldgoldletteringwiththewordAntiquesonit.Lukepausedandpeeredthroughoneofthewindowsintothecooldepths.
“Ratheraniceslipwaredishthere,”heremarked.“Doforanauntofmine.Wonderhowmuchtheywantforit?”
“Shallwegoinandsee?”
“Doyoumind?Ilikepotteringaboutantiqueshops.Sometimesonepicksupagoodbargain.”
“Idoubtifyouwillhere,”saidBridgetdryly.“Ellsworthyknowsthevalueofhisstuffprettyaccurately,Ishouldsay.”
Thedoorwasopen.Inthehallwerechairsandsetteesanddresserswithchinaandpewteronthem.Tworoomsfullofgoodsopenedateitherside.
Lukewentintotheroomontheleftandpickeduptheslipwaredish.AtthesamemomentadimfigurecameforwardfromthebackoftheroomwherehehadbeensittingataQueenAnnewalnutdesk.
“Ah,dearMissConway,whatapleasuretoseeyou.”
“Goodmorning,Mr.Ellsworthy.”
Mr.Ellsworthywasaveryexquisiteyoungmandressedinacolourschemeofrussetbrown.Hehadalongpalefacewithawomanishmouth,longblackartistichairandamincingwalk.
LukewasintroducedandMr.Ellsworthyimmediatelytransferredhisattentiontohim.
“GenuineoldEnglishslipware.Delicious,isn’tit?Ilovemybitsandpieces,youknow,hatetosellthem.It’salwaysbeenmydreamtoliveinthecountryandhavealittleshop.Marvellousplace,Wychwood—ithasatmosphere,ifyouknowwhatImean.”
“Theartistictemperament,”murmuredBridget.
Ellsworthyturnedonherwithaflashoflongwhitehands.
“Notthatterriblephrase,MissConway.No—no,Iimploreyou.Don’ttellmeI’mallartyandcrafty—Icouldn’tbearit.Really,really,youknow,Idon’tstockhandwoventweedsandbeatenpewter.I’matradesman,that’sall,justatradesman.”
“Butyou’rereallyanartist,aren’tyou?”saidLuke.“Imean,youdowater-colours,don’tyou?”
“Nowwhotoldyouthat?”criedMr.Ellsworthy,claspinghishandstogether.“Youknowthisplaceisreallytoomarvellous—onesimplycan’tkeepasecret!That’swhatIlikeaboutit—it’ssodifferentfromthatinhumanyou-mind-your-own-business-and-I-will-mind-mineofacity!Gossipandmaliceandscandal—allsodeliciousifonetakesthemintherightspirit!”
LukecontentedhimselfwithansweringMr.Ellsworthy’squestionandpayingnoattentiontothelatterpartofhisremarks.
“MissWaynfletetoldusthatyouhadmadeseveralsketchesofagirl—AmyGibbs.”
“Oh,Amy,”saidMr.Ellsworthy.Hetookastepbackwardsandsetabeermugrocking.Hesteadieditcarefully.Hesaid:“DidI?Oh,yes,IsupposeIdid.”
Hispoiseseemedsomewhatshaken.
“Shewasaprettygirl,”saidBridget
Mr.Ellsworthyhadrecoveredhisaplomb
“Oh,doyouthinkso?”heasked.“Verycommonplace,Ialwaysthought.Ifyou’reinterestedinslipware,”hewentontoLuke,“I’vegotacoupleofslipwarebirds—deliciousthings.”
Lukedisplayedafaintinterestinthebirdsandthenaskedthepriceofthedish.
Ellsworthynamedafigure.
“Thanks,”saidLuke,“butIdon’tthinkI’lldepriveyouofitafterall.”
“I’malwaysrelieved,youknow,”saidEllsworthy,“whenIdon’tmakeasale.Foolishofme,isn’tit?Lookhere,I’llletyouhaveitforaguinealess.Youcareforthestuff.Icanseethat—itmakesallthedifference.Andafterall,thisisashop!”
“No,thanks,”saidLuke.
Mr.Ellsworthyaccompaniedthemouttothedoor,wavinghishands—veryunpleasanthands,Lukethoughttheywere—thefleshseemednotsomuchwhiteasfaintlygreenish.
“Nastybitofgoods,Mr.Ellsworthy,”heremarkedwhenheandBridgetwereoutofearshot.
“AnastymindandnastyhabitsIshouldsay,”saidBridget.
“Whydoeshereallycometoaplacelikethis?”
“Ibelievehedabblesinblackmagic.NotquiteblackMassesbutthatsortofthing.Thereputationofthisplacehelps.”
Lukesaidratherawkwardly:“Goodlord—Isupposehe’sthekindofchapIreallyneed.Ioughttohavetalkedtohimonthesubject.”
“Doyouthinkso?”saidBridget.“Heknowsalotaboutit.”
Lukesaidratheruneasily:
“I’lllookhimupsomeotherday.”
Bridgetdidnotanswer.Theywereoutofthetownnow.Sheturnedasidetofollowafootpathandpresentlytheycametotheriver.
Theretheypassedasmallmanwithastiffmoustacheandprotuberanteyes.Hehadthreebulldogswithhimtowhomhewasshoutinghoarselyinturn.“Nero,comehere,sir.Nelly,leaveit.Dropit,Itellyou.Augustus—AUGUSTUS,Isay—”
HebrokeofftoraisehishattoBridget,staredatLukewithwhatwasevidentlyadevouringcuriosityandpassedonresuminghishoarseexpostulations.
“MajorHortonandhisbulldogs?”quotedLuke.
“Quiteright.”
“Haven’tweseenpracticallyeveryoneofnoteinWychwoodthismorning?”
“Practically.”
“Ifeelratherobtrusive,”saidLuke.“IsupposeastrangerinanEnglishvillageisboundtostickoutamile,”headdedruefully,rememberingJimmyLorrimer’sremarks.
“MajorHortonneverdisguiseshiscuriosityverywell,”saidBridget.“Hedidstare,rather.”
“He’sthesortofmanyoucouldtellwasaMajoranywhere,”saidLukeratherviciously.
Bridgetsaidabruptly:“Shallwesitonthebankabit?We’vegotlotsoftime.”
Theysatonafallentreethatmadeaconvenientseat.Bridgetwenton:
“Yes,MajorHortonisverymilitary—hasanorderlyroommanner.You’dhardlybelievehewasthemosthenpeckedmaninexistenceayearago!”
“What,thatfellow?”
“Yes.HehadthemostdisagreeablewomanforawifethatI’veeverknown.Shehadthemoneytoo,andneverscrupledtounderlinethefactinpublic.”
“Poorbrute—Horton,Imean.”
“Hebehavedverynicelytoher—alwaystheofficerandgentleman.Personally,Iwonderhedidn’ttakeahatchettoher.”
“Shewasn’tpopular,Igather.”
“Everybodydislikedher.ShesnubbedGordonandpatronizedmeandmadeherselfgenerallyunpleasantwherevershewent.”
“ButIgatheramercifulprovidenceremovedher?”
“Yes,aboutayearago.Acutegastritis.Shegaveherhusband,Dr.ThomasandtwonursesabsoluteHell—butshediedallright.Thebulldogsbrightenedupatonce.”
“Intelligentbrutes!”
Therewasasilence.Bridgetwasidlypickingatthelonggrass.Lukefrownedattheoppositebankunseeingly.Onceagainthedreamlikequalityofhismissionobsessedhim.Howmuchwasfact—howmuchimagination?Wasn’titbadforonetogoaboutstudyingeveryfreshpersonyoumetasapotentialmurderer?Somethingdegradingaboutthatpointofview.
“Damnitall,”thoughtLuke,“I’vebeenapolicemantoolong!”
Hewasbroughtoutofhisabstractionwithashock.Bridget’scoldclearvoicewasspeaking.
“Mr.Fitzwilliam,”shesaid,“justexactlywhyhaveyoucomedownhere?”
Six
HATPAINT
Lukehadbeenjustintheactofapplyingamatchtoacigarette.Theunexpectednessofherremarkmomentarilyparalysedhishand.Heremainedquitemotionlessforasecondortwo,thematchburneddownandscorchedhisfingers.
“Damn,”saidLukeashedroppedthematchandshookhishandvigorously.“Ibegyourpardon.Yougavemeratheranastyjolt.”Hesmiledruefully.
“DidI?”
“Yes.”Hesighed.“Oh,well,Isupposeanyoneofrealintelligencewasboundtoseethroughme!Thatstoryofmywritingabookonfolkloredidn’ttakeyouinforamoment,Isuppose?”
“NotafterI’donceseenyou.”
“Youbelievedituptothen?”
“Yes.”
“Allthesameitwasn’treallyagoodstory,”saidLukecritically.“Imean,anymanmightwanttowriteabook,butthebitaboutcomingdownhereandpassingmyselfoffasacousin—Isupposethatmadeyousmellarat?”
Bridgetshookherhead.
“No.Ihadanexplanationforthat—IthoughtIhad,Imean.Ipresumedyouwereprettyhardup—alotofmyandJimmy’sfriendsarethat—andIthoughthesuggestedthecousinstuntsothat—well,sothatitwouldsaveyourpride.”
“ButwhenIarrived,”saidLuke,“myappearanceimmediatelysuggestedsuchopulencethatthatexplanationwasoutofthequestion?”
Hermouthcurvedinitsslowsmile.
“Oh,no,”shesaid.“Itwasn’tthat.Itwassimplythatyouwerethewrongkindofperson.”
“Notsufficientbrainstowriteabook?Don’tsparemyfeelings.I’dratherknow.”
“Youmightwriteabook—butnotthatkindofbook—oldsuperstitions—delvingintothepast—notthatsortofthing!You’renotthekindofmantowhomthepastmeansmuch—perhapsnoteventhefuture—onlyjustthepresent.”
“H’m—Isee.”Hemadeawryface.“Damnitall,you’vemademenervouseversinceIgothere!Youlooksoconfoundedlyintelligent.”
“I’msorry,”saidBridgetdrily.“Whatdidyouexpect?”
“Well,Ireallyhadn’tthoughtaboutit.”
Butshewentoncalmly:
“Afluffylittleperson—withjustenoughbrainstorealizeheropportunitiesandmarryherboss?”
Lukemadeaconfusednoise.Sheturnedacoolamusedglanceonhim.
“Iquiteunderstand.It’sallright.I’mnotannoyed.”
Lukechoseeffrontery.
“Well,perhaps,itwassomethingfaintlyapproachingthat.ButIdidn’tthinkmuchaboutit.”
Shesaidslowly:
“No,youwouldn’t.Youdon’tcrossyourfencestillyougettothem.”
ButLukewasdespondent.
“Oh,I’venodoubtIdidmystuffprettyrottenly!HasLordWhitfieldseenthroughmetoo?”
“Oh,no.Ifyousaidyou’dcomedownheretostudythehabitsofwaterbeetlesandwriteamonographaboutthem,itwouldhavebeenOKwithGordon.He’sgotabeautifulbelievingmind.”
“AllthesameIwasn’tabitconvincing!Igotrattledsomehow.”
“Icrampedyourstyle,”saidBridget.“Isawthat.Itratheramusedme,I’mafraid.”
“Oh,itwould!Womenwithanybrainsareusuallycold-bloodedlycruel.”
Bridgetmurmured:
“Onehastotakeone’spleasuresasonecaninthislife!”Shepausedaminute,thensaid:“Whyareyoudownhere,Mr.Fitzwilliam?”
Theyhadreturnedfullcircletotheoriginalquestion.Lukehadbeenawarethatitmustbeso.Inthelastfewsecondshehadbeentryingtomakeuphismind.Helookedupnowandmethereyes—shrewdinquiringeyesthatmethiswithacalm,steadygaze.Therewasagravityinthemwhichhehadnotquiteexpectedtofindthere.
“Itwouldbebetter,Ithink,”hesaidmeditatively,“nottotellyouanymorelies.”
“Muchbetter.”
“Butthetruth’sawkward…Lookhere,haveyouyourselfformedanyopinion—Imeanhasanythingoccurredtoyouaboutmybeinghere?”
Shenoddedslowlyandthoughtfully.
“Whatwasyouridea?Willyoutellme?Ifancyitmayhelpsomehow.”
Bridgetsaidquietly:
“Ihadanideathatyoucamedownhereinconnectionwiththedeathofthatgirl,AmyGibbs.”
“That’sit,then!That’swhatIsaw—whatIfelt—wheneverhernamecroppedup!Iknewtherewassomething.SoyouthoughtIcamedownaboutthat?”
“Didn’tyou?”
“Inaway—yes.”
Hewassilent—frowning.Thegirlbesidehimsatequallysilent,notmoving.Shesaidnothingtodisturbhistrainofthought.
Hemadeuphismind.
“I’vecomedownhereonawildgoosechase—onafantasticalandprobablyquiteabsurdandmelodramaticsupposition.AmyGibbsispartofthatwholebusiness.I’minterestedtofindoutexactlyhowshedied.”
“Yes,Ithoughtso.”
“Butdashitall—whydidyouthinkso?Whatisthereaboutherdeaththat—well—arousedyourinterest?”
Bridgetsaid:
“I’vethought—allalong—thattherewassomethingwrongaboutit.That’swhyItookyoutoseeMissWaynflete.”
“Why?”
“Becauseshethinkssotoo.”
“Oh.”Lukethoughtbackrapidly.Heunderstoodnowtheunderlyingsuggestionsofthatintelligentspinster’smanner.“Shethinksasyoudo—thatthere’ssomething—oddaboutit?”
Bridgetnodded.
“Whyexactly?”
“Hatpaint,tobeginwith.”
“Whatdoyoumean,hatpaint?”
“Well,abouttwentyyearsago,peopledidpainthats—oneseasonyouhadapinkstraw,nextseasonabottleofhatpaintanditbecamedarkblue—thenperhapsanotherbottleandablackhat!Butnowadays—hatsarecheap—tawdrystufftobethrownawaywhenoutoffashion.”
“EvengirlsoftheclassofAmyGibbs?”
“I’dbemorelikelytopaintahatthanshewould!Thrift’sgoneout.Andthere’sanotherthing.Itwasredhatpaint.”
“Well?”
“AndAmyGibbshadredhair—carrots!”
“Youmeanitdoesn’tgotogether?”
Bridgetnodded.
“Youwouldn’twearascarlethatwithcarrotyhair.It’sthesortofthingamanwouldn’trealize,but—”
Lukeinterruptedherwithheavysignificance.
“No—amanwouldn’trealizethat.Itfitsin—itallfitsin.”
Bridgetsaid:
“JimmyhasgotsomeoddfriendsatScotlandYard.You’renot—”
Lukesaidquickly:
“I’mnotanofficialdetective—andI’mnotawell-knownprivateinvestigatorwithroomsinBakerStreet,etc.I’mexactlywhatJimmytoldyouIwas—aretiredpolicemanfromtheEast.I’mhorninginonthisbusinessbecauseofanoddthingthathappenedinthetraintoLondon.”
HegaveabriefsynopsisofhisconversationwithMissPinkertonandthesubsequenteventswhichhadbroughtabouthispresenceinWychwood.
“Soyousee,”heended.“It’sfantastic!I’mlookingforacertainman—asecretkiller—amanhereinWychwood—probablywell-knownandrespected.IfMissPinkerton’srightandyou’rerightandMissWhat’s-’er-nameisright—thatmankilledAmyGibbs.”
Bridgetsaid:“Isee.”
“Itcouldhavebeendonefromoutside,Isuppose?”
“Yes,Ithinkso,”saidBridgetslowly.“Reed,theconstable,climbeduptoherwindowbymeansofanouthouse.Thewindowwasopen.Itwasabitofascramble,butareasonablyactivemanwouldfindnorealdifficulty.”
“Andhavingdonethat,hedidwhat?”
“Substitutedabottleofhatpaintforthecoughlinctus.”
“Hopingshe’ddoexactlywhatshediddo—wakeup,drinkitoff,andthateveryonewouldsayshe’dmadeamistakeorcommittedsuicide?”
“Yes.”
“Therewasnosuspicionofwhattheycallinbooks,‘foulplay’attheinquest?”
“No.”
“Menagain,Isuppose—thehatpaintpointwasn’traised?”
“No.”
“Butitoccurredtoyou?”
“Yes.”
“AndtoMissWaynflete?Haveyoudiscussedittogether?”
Bridgetsmiledfaintly:
“Oh,no—notinthesenseyoumean.Imeanwehaven’tsaidanythingrightout.Idon’treallyknowhowfartheoldpussyhasgoneinherownmind.I’dsayshe’dbeenjustworriedtostartwith—andgraduallygettingmoreso.She’squiteintelligent,youknow,wenttoGirtonorwantedto,andwasadvancedwhenshewasyoung.She’snotgotquitethewoollymindofmostofthepeopledownhere.”
“MissPinkertonhadratherawoollymindIshouldimagine,”saidLuke.“That’swhyIneverdreamedtherewasanythinginherstorytobeginwith.”
“Shewasprettyshrewd,Ialwaysthought,”saidBridget.“Mostoftheseramblingolddearsareassharpasnailsinsomeways.Yousaidshementionedothernames?”
Lukenodded.
“Yes.Asmallboy—thatwasTommyPierce—IrememberedthenameassoonasIheardit.AndI’mprettysurethatthemanCartercameintoo.”
“Carter,TommyPierce,AmyGibbs,Dr.Humbleby,”saidBridgetthoughtfully.“Asyousay,it’salmosttoofantastictobetrue!Whoonearthwouldwanttokillallthosepeople?Theywereallsodifferent!”
Lukesaid:
“AnyideaastowhyanyoneshouldwanttodoawaywithAmyGibbs?”
Bridgetshookherhead.
“Ican’timagine.”
“WhataboutthemanCarter?Howdidhedie,bytheway?”
“Fellintotheriverandwasdrowned.Hewasonhiswayhome,itwasamistynightandhewasquitedrunk.There’safootbridgewitharailononlyoneside.Itwastakenforgrantedthathemissedhisfooting.”
“Butsomeonecouldquiteeasilyhavegivenhimashove?”
“Oh,yes.”
“AndsomebodyelsecouldquiteeasilyhavegivennastylittleTommyapushwhenhewaswindowcleaning?”
“Againyes.”
“Soitboilsdowntothefactthatit’sreallyquiteeasytoremovethreehumanbeingswithoutanyonesuspecting.”
“MissPinkertonsuspected,”Bridgetpointedout.
“Soshedid,blessher.Shewasn’ttroubledwithideasofbeingtoomelodramatic,orofimaginingthings.”
“Sheoftentoldmetheworldwasaverywickedplace.”
“Andyousmiledtolerantly,Isuppose?”
“Inasuperiormanner!”
“Anybodywhocanbelievesiximpossiblethingsbeforebreakfastwinshandsdownatthisgame.”
Bridgetnodded.
Lukesaid:
“Isupposeit’snogoodmyaskingyouifyou’veahunchofanykind?There’snoparticularindividualinWychwoodwhogivesyouacreepyfeelingdownthespine,orwhohasstrangepaleeyes—oraqueermaniacalgiggle.”
“EverybodyI’vemetinWychwoodappearstometobeeminentlysane,respectable,andcompletelyordinary.”
“Iwasafraidyou’dsaythat,”saidLuke.
Bridgetsaid:
“Youthinkthismanisdefinitelymad?”
“Oh,Ishouldsayso.Alunaticallright,butacunningone.Thelastpersonyou’deversuggest—probablyapillarofsocietylikeaBankManager.”
“Mr.Jones?Icertainlycan’timaginehimcommittingwholesalemurders.”
“Thenhe’sprobablythemanwewant.”
“Itmaybeanyone,”saidBridget.“Thebutcher,thebaker,thegrocer,afarmlabourer,aroadmender,orthemanwhodeliversthemilk.”
“Itmaybe—yes—butIthinkthefieldisalittlemorerestrictedthanthat.”
“Why?”
“MyMissPinkertonspokeofthelookinhiseyeswhenhewasmeasuringuphisnextvictim.FromthewayshespokeIgottheimpression—it’sonlyanimpression,markyou—thatthemanshewasspeakingofwasatleasthersocialequal.Ofcourse,Imaybewrong.”
“You’reprobablyquiteright!Thosenuancesofconversationcan’tbeputdowninblackandwhite,butthey’rethesortofthingsonedoesn’treallymakemistakesabout.”
“Youknow,”saidLuke,“it’sagreatrelieftohaveyouknowingallaboutit.”
“Itwillprobablycrampyourstyleless,Iagree.AndIcanprobablyhelpyou.”
“Yourhelpwillbeinvaluable.Youreallymeantoseeitthrough?”
“Ofcourse.”
Lukesaidwithasuddenslightembarrassment:
“WhataboutLordWhitfield?Doyouthink—?”
“Naturallywedon’ttellGordonanythingaboutit!”saidBridget.
“Youmeanhewouldn’tbelieveit?”
“Oh,he’dbelieveit!Gordoncouldbelieveanything!He’dprobablybesimplythrilledandinsistonhavinghalfadozenofhisbrightyoungmendowntobeatuptheneighbourhood!He’dsimplyadoreit!”
“Thatdoesratherruleitout,”agreedLuke.
“Yes,wecan’tallowhimtohavehissimplepleasures,I’mafraid.”
Lukelookedather.Heseemedabouttosaysomethingthenchangedhismind.Helookedinsteadathiswatch.
“Yes,”saidBridget,“weoughttobegettinghome.”
Shegotup.TherewasasuddenconstraintbetweenthemasthoughLuke’sunspokenwordshovereduncomfortablyintheair.
Theywalkedhomeinsilence.
Seven
POSSIBILITIES
Lukesatinhisbedroom.AtlunchtimehehadsustainedaninterrogationbyMrs.AnstrutherastowhatflowershehadhadinhisgardenintheMayangStraits.Hehadthenbeentoldwhatflowerswouldhavedonewellthere.Hehadalsolistenedtofurther“TalkstoYoungMenontheSubjectofMyself”byLordWhitfield.Nowhewasmercifullyalone.
Hetookasheetofpaperandwrotedownaseriesofnames.Itranasfollows:
Dr.Thomas.Mr.Abbot.MajorHorton.Mr.Ellsworthy.Mr.Wake.Mr.Jones.Amy’syoungman.Thebutcher,thebaker,thecandlestickmaker,etc.
HethentookanothersheetofpaperandheadeditVICTIMS.Underthisheading,hewrote:
AmyGibbs:Poisoned.TommyPierce:Pushedoutofwindow.HarryCarter:Shovedofffootbridge(drunk?drugged?).Dr.Humbleby:BloodPoisoning.MissPinkerton:Rundownbycar.
Headded:
Mrs.Rose?OldBen?
Andafterapause:
Mrs.Horton?
Heconsideredhislists,smokedawhile,thentookuphispenciloncemore.
Dr.Thomas:PossiblecaseagainsthimDefinitemotiveinthecaseofDr.Humbleby.Manneroflatter’sdeathsuitable—namely,scientificpoisoningbygerms.AmyGibbsvisitedhimonafternoonofthedayshedied.(Anythingbetweenthem?Blackmail?)TommyPierce?Noconnectionknown.(DidTommyknowofconnectionbetweenhimandAmyGibbs?)HarryCarter?Noconnectionknown.WasDr.ThomasabsentfromWychwoodonthedayMissPinkertonwenttoLondon?
Lukesighedandstartedafreshheading:
Mr.Abbot:Possiblecaseagainsthim.(Feelalawyerisdefinitelyasuspiciousperson.Possiblyprejudice.)Hispersonality,florid,genial,etc.,wouldbedefinitelysuspiciousinabook—alwayssuspectbluffgenialmen.Objection:thisisnotabook,butreallife.MotiveformurderofDr.Humbleby.Definiteantagonismexistedbetweenthem.H.defiedAbbot.Sufficientmotiveforaderangedbrain.AntagonismcouldhavebeeneasilynotedbyMissPinkerton.TommyPierce?LattersnoopedamongAbbot’spapers.Didhefindoutsomethingheshouldn’thaveknown?HarryCarter?Nodefiniteconnection.AmyGibbs?Noconnectionknown.HatpaintquitesuitabletoAbbot’smentality—anold-fashionedmind.WasAbbotawayfromthevillagethedayMissPinkertonwaskilled?MajorHorton:Possiblecaseagainsthim.NoconnectionknownwithAmyGibbs,TommyPierceorCarter.WhataboutMrs.Horton?Deathsoundsasthoughitmightbearsenicalpoisoning.Ifsoothermurdersmightberesultofthat—blackmail?NB—Thomaswasdoctorinattendance.(SuspiciousforThomasagain.)
Mr.Ellsworthy:Possiblecaseagainsthim.Nastybitofgoods—dabblesinblackmagic.Mightbetemperamentofabloodlustkiller.ConnectionwithAmyGibbs.AnyconnectionwithTommyPierce?Carter?Nothingknown.Humbleby?MighthavetumbledtoEllsworthy’smentalcondition.MissPinkerton?WasEllsworthyawayfromWychwoodwhenMissPinkertonwaskilled?Mr.Wake:Possiblecaseagainsthim.Veryunlikely.Possiblereligiousmania?Amissiontokill?Saintlyoldclergymenlikelystartersinbooks,but(asbefore)thisisreallife.Note.Carter,Tommy,Amyalldefinitelyunpleasantcharacters.Betterremovedbydivinedecree?Mr.Jones.Data—none.Amy’syoungman.ProbablyeveryreasontokillAmy—butseemsunlikelyongeneralgrounds.Theetceteras?Don’tfancythem.
Hereadthroughwhathehadwritten.
Thenheshookhishead.
Hemurmuredsoftly:
“—whichisabsurd!HownicelyEuclidputthings.”
Hetoreupthelistsandburntthem.
Hesaidtohimself:
“Thisjobisn’tgoingtobeexactlyeasy.”
Eight
DR.THOMAS
Dr.Thomasleantbackinhischair,andpassedalongdelicatehandoverhisthickfairhair.Hewasayoungmanwhoseappearancewasdeceptive.Thoughhewasoverthirty,acasualglancewouldhaveputhimdownintheearlytwentiesifnotinhisteens.Hisshockofratherunrulyfairhair,hisslightlystartledexpressionandhispinkandwhitecomplexiongavehimanirresistiblyschoolboyishappearance.Immatureashemightlook,though,thediagnosishehadjustpronouncedonLuke’srheumatickneeagreedalmostpreciselywiththatdeliveredbyaneminentHarleyStreetspecialistonlyaweekearlier.
“Thanks,”saidLuke.“Well,I’mrelievedyouthinkthatelectricaltreatmentwilldothetrick.Idon’twanttoturnacrippleatmyage.”
Dr.Thomassmiledboyishly.
“Oh,Idon’tthinkthere’sanydangerofthat,Mr.Fitzwilliam.”
“Well,you’verelievedmymind,”saidLuke.“Iwasthinkingofgoingtosomespecialistchap—butI’msurethere’snoneednow.”
Dr.Thomassmiledagain.
“Goifitmakesyourmindeasier.Afterall,it’salwaysagoodthingtohaveanexpert’sopinion.”
“No,no,I’vegotfullconfidenceinyou.”
“Frankly,thereisnocomplexityaboutthematter.Ifyoutakemyadvice,Iamquitesureyouwillhavenofurthertrouble.”
“You’verelievedmymindnoend,doctor.FanciedImightbegettingarthritisandwouldsoonbealltiedupinknotsandunabletomove.”
Dr.Thomasshookhisheadwithaslightlyindulgentsmile.
Lukesaidquickly:
“Mengetthewindupprettybadlyintheseways.Iexpectyoufindthat?Ioftenthinkadoctormustfeelhimselfa‘medicineman’—akindofmagiciantomostofhispatients.”
“Theelementoffaithentersinverylargely.”
“Iknow.‘Thedoctorsaysso’isaremarkalwaysutteredwithsomethinglikereverence.”
Dr.Thomasraisedhisshoulders.
“Ifone’spatientsonlyknew!”hemurmuredhumorously.
Thenhesaid:
“You’rewritingabookonmagic,aren’tyou,Mr.Fitzwilliam?”
“Nowhowdidyouknowthat?”exclaimedLuke,perhapswithsomewhatoverdonesurprise.
Dr.Thomaslookedamused.
“Oh,mydearsir,newsgetsaboutveryrapidlyinaplacelikethis.Wehavesolittletotalkabout.”
“Itprobablygetsexaggeratedtoo.You’llbehearingI’mraisingthelocalspiritsandemulatingtheWitchofEndor.”
“Ratheroddyoushouldsaythat.”
“Why?”
“Well,therumourhasbeengoingroundthatyouhadraisedtheghostofTommyPierce.”
“Pierce?Pierce?Isthatthesmallboywhofelloutofawindow?”
“Yes.”
“NowIwonderhow—ofcourse—Imadesomeremarktothesolicitor—what’shisname,Abbot.”
“Yes,thestoryoriginatedwithAbbot.”
“Don’tsayI’veconvertedahard-boiledsolicitortoabeliefinghosts?”
“Youbelieveinghostsyourself,then?”
“Yourtonesuggeststhatyoudonot,doctor.No,Iwouldn’tsayIactually‘believeinghosts’—toputitcrudely.ButIhaveknowncuriousphenomenainthecaseofsuddenorviolentdeath.ButI’mmoreinterestedinthevarioussuperstitionspertainingtoviolentdeaths—thatamurderedman,forinstance,can’trestinhisgrave.Andtheinterestingbeliefthatthebloodofamurderedmanflowsifhismurderertoucheshim.Iwonderhowthatarose.”
“Verycurious,”saidThomas.“ButIdon’tsupposemanypeoplerememberthatnowadays.”
“Morethanyouwouldthink.Ofcourse,Idon’tsupposeyouhavemanymurdersdownhere—soit’shardtojudge.”
Lukehadsmiledashespoke,hiseyesrestingwithseemingcarelessnessontheother’sface.ButDr.Thomasseemedquiteunperturbedandsmiledinreturn.
“No,Idon’tthinkwe’vehadamurderfor—oh,verymanyyears—certainlynotinmytime.”
“No,thisisapeacefulspot.Notconducivetofoulplay.UnlesssomebodypushedlittleTommyWhat’s-his-nameoutofthewindow.”
Lukelaughed.AgainDr.Thomas’ssmilecameinanswer—anaturalsmilefullofboyishamusement.
“Alotofpeoplewouldhavebeenwillingtowringthatchild’sneck,”hesaid.“ButIdon’tthinktheyactuallygottothepointofthrowinghimoutofwindows.”
“Heseemstohavebeenathoroughlynastychild—theremovalofhimmighthavebeenconceivedasapublicduty.”
“It’sapityonecan’tapplythattheoryfairlyoften.”
“I’vealwaysthoughtafewwholesalemurderswouldbebeneficialtothecommunity,”saidLuke.“Aclubbore,forinstance,shouldbefinishedoffwithapoisonedliqueurbrandy.Thentherearethewomenwhogushatyouandtearalltheirdearestfriendstopieceswiththeirtongues.Backbitingspinsters.Inveteratediehardswhoopposeprogress.Iftheywerepainlesslyremoved,whatadifferenceitwouldmaketosociallife!”
Dr.Thomas’ssmilelengthenedtoagrin.
“Infact,youadvocatecrimeonagrandscale?”
“Judiciouselimination,”saidLuke.“Don’tyouagreethatitwouldbebeneficial?”
“Oh,undoubtedly.”
“Ah,butyou’renotbeingserious,”saidLuke.“NowIam.Ihaven’ttherespectforhumanlifethatthenormalEnglishmanhas.Anymanwhoisastumblingblockonthewayofprogressoughttobeeliminated—that’showIseeit!”
Runninghishandthroughhisshortfairhair,Dr.Thomassaid:
“Yes,butwhoistobethejudgeofaman’sfitnessorunfitness?”
“That’sthedifficulty,ofcourse,”Lukeadmitted.
“TheCatholicswouldconsideraCommunistagitatorunfittolive—theCommunistagitatorwouldsentencethepriesttodeathasapurveyorofsuperstition,thedoctorwouldeliminatetheunhealthyman,thepacifistwouldcondemnthesoldier,andsoon.”
“You’dhavetohaveascientificmanasjudge,”saidLuke.“Someonewithanunbiasedbuthighlyspecializedmind—adoctor,forinstance.Cometothat,Ithinkyou’dbeaprettygoodjudgeyourself,doctor.”
“Ofunfitnesstolive?”
“Yes.”
Dr.Thomasshookhishead.
“Myjobistomaketheunfitfit.Mostofthetimeit’sanuphilljob,I’lladmit.”
“Nowjustforthesakeofargument,”saidLuke.“TakeamanlikethelateHarryCarter—”
Dr.Thomassaidsharply:
“Carter?YoumeanthelandlordoftheSevenStars?”
“Yes,that’stheman.Ineverknewhimmyself,butmycousin,MissConway,wastalkingabouthim.Heseemstohavebeenareallythoroughgoingscoundrel.”
“Well,”saidtheother,“hedrank,ofcourse.Ill-treatedhiswife,bulliedhisdaughter.Hewasquarrelsomeandabusiveandhadhadarowwithmostpeopleintheplace.”
“Infact,theworldisabetterplacewithouthim?”
“Onemightbeinclinedtosayso,Iagree.”
“Infact,ifsomebodyhadgivenhimapushandsenthimintotheriverinsteadofhiskindlyelectingtofallinofhisownaccord,thatpersonwouldhavebeenactinginthepublicinterest?”
Dr.Thomassaiddrily:
“Thesemethodsthatyouadvocate—didyouputthemintopracticeinthe—MayangStraits,Ithinkyousaid?”
Lukelaughed.
“Oh,no,withmeit’stheory—notpractice.”
“No,Idonotthinkyouarethestuffofwhichmurderersaremade.”
Lukeasked:
“Whynot?I’vebeenfrankenoughinmyviews.”
“Exactly.Toofrank.”
“YoumeanthatifIwerereallythekindofmanwhotakesthelawintohisownhandsIshouldn’tgoaboutairingmyviews?”
“Thatwasmymeaning.”
“Butitmightbeakindofgospelwithme.Imightbeafanaticonthesubject!”
“Evenso,yoursenseofself-protectionwouldbeactive.”
“Infact,whenlookingforamurderer,lookoutforanicegentlewouldn’t-hurt-a-flytypeofman.”
“Slightlyexaggeratedperhaps,”saidDr.Thomas,“butnotfarfromthetruth.”
Lukesaidabruptly:
“Tellme—itinterestsme—haveyouevercomeacrossamanwhomyoubelievedmightbeamurderer?”
Dr.Thomassaidsharply:
“Really—whatanextraordinaryquestion!”
“Isit?Afterall,adoctormustcomeacrosssomanyqueercharacters.Hewouldbebetterabletodetect—forinstance—thesignsofhomicidalmania—inanearlystage—beforeit’snoticeable.”
Thomassaidratherirritably:
“Youhavethegenerallayman’sideaofahomicidalmaniac—amanwhorunsamokwithaknife,amanmoreorlessfoamingatthemouth.Letmetellyouahomicidallunaticmaybethemostdifficultthingonthisearthtospot.Toallseeminghemaybeexactlylikeeveryoneelse—aman,perhaps,whoiseasilyfrightened—whomaytellyou,perhaps,thathehasenemies.Nomorethanthat.Aquiet,inoffensivefellow.”
“Isthatreallyso?”
“Ofcourseit’sso.Ahomicidallunaticoftenkills(ashethinks)inself-defence.Butofcoursealotofkillersareordinarysanefellowslikeyouandme.”
“Doctor,youalarmme!FancyifyoushoulddiscoverlaterthatIhavefiveorsixnicequietlittlekillingstomycredit.”
Dr.Thomassmiled.
“Idon’tthinkit’sverylikely,Mr.Fitzwilliam.”
“Don’tyou?I’llreturnthecompliment.Idon’tbelieveyou’vegotfiveorsixmurderstoyourcrediteither.”
Dr.Thomassaidcheerfully:
“You’renotcountingmyprofessionalfailures.”
Bothmenlaughed.
Lukegotupandsaidgood-bye.
“I’mafraidI’vetakenupalotofyourtime,”hesaidapologetically.
“Oh,I’mnotbusy.Wychwoodisaprettyhealthyplace.It’sapleasuretohaveatalkwithsomeonefromtheoutsideworld.”
“Iwaswondering—”saidLukeandstopped.
“Yes?”
“MissConwaytoldmewhenshesentmetoyouwhatavery—well—whatafirst-classmanyouwere.Iwonderedifyoudidn’tfeelratherburieddownhere?Notmuchopportunityfortalent.”
“Oh,generalpracticeisagoodbeginning.It’svaluableexperience.”
“Butyouwon’tbecontenttostayinarutallyourlife?Yourlatepartner,Dr.Humbleby,wasanunambitiousfellow,soI’veheard—quitecontentwithhispracticehere.He’dbeenhereforagoodmanyyears,Ibelieve?”
“Practicallyalifetime.”
“Hewassoundbutold-fashioned,soIhear.”
Dr.Thomassaid:
“Attimeshewasdifficult…Verysuspiciousofmoderninnovations,butagoodexampleoftheoldschoolofphysicians.”
“Leftaveryprettydaughter,I’mtold,”saidLukeinjocularfashion.
HehadthepleasureofseeingDr.Thomas’spalepinkcountenancegoadeepscarlet.
“Oh—er—yes,”hesaid.
Lukegazedathimkindly.HewaspleasedattheprospectoferasingDr.Thomasfromhislistofsuspectedpersons.
Thelatterrecoveredhisnormalhueandsaidabruptly:
“Talkingaboutcrimejustnow,Icanlendyouratheragoodbookasyouareinterestedinthesubject!TranslationfromtheGerman.KreuzhammeronInferiorityandCrime.”
“Thankyou,”saidLuke.
Dr.Thomasranhisfingeralongashelfanddrewoutthebookinquestion.
“Hereyouare.Someofthetheoriesareratherstartling—andofcoursetheyareonlytheories,buttheyareinteresting.TheearlylifeofMenzheld,forinstance,theFrankfurtbutcher,astheycalledhim,andthechapteronAnnaHelm,thelittlenursemaidkiller,arereallyextremelyinteresting.”
“Shekilledaboutadozenofherchargesbeforetheauthoritiestumbledtoit,Ibelieve,”saidLuke.
Dr.Thomasnodded.
“Yes.Shehadamostsympatheticpersonality—devotedtochildren—andapparentlyquitegenuinelyheartbrokenateachdeath.Thepsychologyisamazing.”
“Amazinghowthesepeoplegetawaywithit,”saidLuke.
Hewasonthedoorstepnow.Dr.Thomashadcomeoutwithhim.
“Notamazingreally,”saidDr.Thomas.“It’squiteeasy,youknow.”
“Whatis?”
“Togetawaywithit.”Hewassmilingagain—acharming,boyishsmile.“Ifyou’recareful.Onejusthastobecareful—that’sall!Butaclevermanisextremelycarefulnottomakeaslip.That’sallthereistoit.”
Hesmiledandwentintothehouse.
Lukestoodstaringupthesteps.
Therehadbeensomethingcondescendinginthedoctor’ssmile.ThroughouttheirconversationLukehadbeenconsciousofhimselfasamanoffullmaturityandofDr.Thomasasayouthfulandingenuousyoungman.
Justforamomenthefeltther?lesreversed.Thedoctor’ssmilehadbeenthatofagrown-upamusedbytheclevernessofachild.
Nine
MRS.PIERCETALKS
InthelittleshopintheHighStreetLukehadboughtatinofcigarettesandtoday’scopyofGoodCheer,theenterprisinglittleweeklywhichprovidedLordWhitfieldwithagoodportionofhissubstantialincome.Turningtothefootballcompetition,Luke,withagroan,gaveforththeinformationthathehadjustfailedtowinahundredandtwentypounds.Mrs.Piercewasrousedatoncetosympathyandexplainedsimilardisappointmentsonthepartofherhusband.Friendlyrelationsthusestablished,Lukefoundnodifficultyinprolongingtheconversation.
“AgreatinterestinfootballMr.Piercetakes,”saidMr.Pierce’sspouse.“Turnstoitfirstofallinthenews,hedoes.AndasIsay,manyadisappointmenthe’shad,butthere,everybodycan’twin,that’swhatIsay,andwhatIsayisyoucan’tgoagainstluck.”
Lukeconcurredheartilyinthesesentiments,andproceededtoadvancebyaneasytransitiontoafurtherprofoundstatementthattroublesnevercomesingly.
“Ah,no,indeed,sir,thatIdoknow.”Mrs.Piercesighed.“Andwhenawomanhasahusbandandeightchildren—sixlivingandburiedtwo,thatis—well,sheknowswhattroubleis,asyoumaysay.”
“Isupposeshedoes—oh,undoubtedly,”saidLuke.“You’ve—er—buriedtwo,yousay?”
“Onenolongerthanamonthago,”saidMrs.Piercewithakindofmelancholyenjoyment.
“Dearme,verysad.”
“Itwasn’tonlysad,sir.Itwasashock—that’swhatitwas,ashock!Icamealloverqueer,Idid,whentheybrokeittome.NeverhavingexpectedanythingofthatkindtohappentoTommy,asyoumightsay,forwhenaboy’satroubletoyouitdoesn’tcomenaturaltothinkofhimbeingtook.NowmyEmmaJane,asweetlittlemiteshewas.‘You’llneverrearher.’That’swhattheysaid.‘She’stoogoodtolive.’Anditwastrue,sir.TheLordknowsHisown.”
LukeacknowledgedthesentimentandstrovetoreturnfromthesubjectofthesaintlyEmmaJanetothatofthelesssaintlyTommy.
“Yourboydiedquiterecently?”hesaid.“Anaccident?”
“Anaccidentitwas,sir.CleaningthewindowsoftheoldHall,whichisnowthelibrary,andhemusthavelosthisbalanceandfell—fromthetopwindows,thatwas.”
Mrs.Pierceexpatiatedatsomelengthonallthedetailsoftheaccident.
“Wasn’ttheresomestory,”saidLukecarelessly,“ofhishavingbeenseendancingonthewindowsill?”
Mrs.Piercesaidthatboyswouldbeboys—butnodoubtitdidgivethemajoraturn,himbeingafussygentleman.
“MajorHorton?”
“Yes,sir,thegentlemanwiththebulldogs.AftertheaccidenthappenedhechancedtomentionhavingseenourTommyactingveryrash-like—andofcourseitdoesshowthatifsomethingsuddenhadstartledhimhewouldhavefalleneasyenough.Highspirits,sir,thatwasTommy’strouble.Asoretrialhe’sbeentomeinmanyways,”shefinished,“butthereitwas,justhighspirits—nothingbuthighspirits—suchasanyladmighthave.Therewasn’tnorealharminhim,asyoumightsay.”
“No,no—I’msuretherewasn’t,butsometimes,youknow,Mrs.Pierce,people—sobermiddle-agedpeople—findithardtorememberthey’veeverbeenyoungthemselves.”
Mrs.Piercesighed.
“Verytruethosewordsare,sir.Ican’thelpbuthopingthatsomegentlemenIcouldnamebutwon’twillhavetakenittoheartthewaytheywereharduponthelad—justonaccountofhishighspirits.”
“Playedafewtricksuponhisemployers,didhe?”askedLukewithanindulgentsmile.
Mrs.Piercerespondedimmediately.
“Itwasjusthisfun,sir,thatwasall.Tommywasalwaysgoodatimitations.Makeusholdoursideswithlaughingthewayhe’dminceaboutpretendingtobethatMr.Ellsworthyatthecurioshop—oroldMr.Hobbs,thechurchwarden—andhewasimitatinghislordshipupatthemanorandthetwounder-gardenerslaughing,whenupcamehislordshipquiet-likeandgaveTommythesackonthespot—andnaturallythatwasonlytobeexpected,andquiteright,andhislordshipdidn’tbearmaliceafterwards,andhelpedTommytogetanotherjob.”
“Butotherpeopleweren’tsomagnanimous,eh?”saidLuke.
“Thattheywerenot,sir.Namingnonames.Andyou’dneverthinkitwithMr.Abbot,sopleasantinhismannerandalwaysakindwordorajoke.”
“Tommygotintotroublewithhim?”
Mrs.Piercesaid:
“It’snot,I’msure,thattheboymeantanyharm…Andafterall,ifpapersareprivateandnotmeanttobelookedat,theyshouldn’tbelaidoutonatable—that’swhatIsay.”
“Oh,quite,”saidLuke.“Privatepapersinalawyer’sofficeoughttobekeptinthesafe.”
“That’sright,sir.That’swhatIthink,andMr.Pierceheagreeswithme.It’snotevenasthoughTommyhadreadmuchofit.”
“Whatwasit—awill?”askedLuke.
Hejudged(probablyrightly)thataquestionastowhatthedocumentinquestionhadbeenmightmakeMrs.Piercehalt.Butthisdirectquestionbroughtaninstantresponse.
“Oh,no,sir,nothingofthatkind.Nothingreallyimportant.Justaprivateletteritwas—fromalady—andTommydidn’tevenseewhotheladywas.Allsuchafussaboutnothing—that’swhatIsay.”
“Mr.Abbotmustbethesortofmanwhotakesoffenceveryeasily,”saidLuke
“Well,itdoesseemso,doesn’tit,sir?Although,asIsay,he’salwayssuchapleasantgentlemantospeakto—alwaysajokeoracheeryword.Butit’struethatIhaveheardhewasadifficultmantogetupagainst,andhimandDr.Humblebywasdaggersdrawn,asthesayingis,justbeforethepoorgentlemandied.AndnotapleasantthoughtforMr.Abbotafterwards.Foroncethere’sadeathonedoesn’tliketothinkthere’sbeenharshwordsspokenandnochanceoftakingthemback.”
Lukeshookhisheadsolemnlyandmurmured:
“Verytrue—verytrue.”
Hewenton:
“Abitofacoincidence—that.HardwordswithDr.HumblebyandDr.Humblebydied—harshtreatmentofyourTommy—andtheboydies!IshouldthinkthatadoubleexperiencelikethatwouldtendtomakeMr.Abbotcarefulofhistongueinfuture.”
“HarryCarter,too,downattheSevenStars,”saidMrs.Pierce.“VerysharpwordspassedbetweenthemonlyaweekbeforeCarterwentanddrownedhimself—butonecan’tblameMr.Abbotforthat.TheabusewasallonCarter’sside—wentuptoMr.Abbot’shouse,hedid,beinginliquoratthetime,andshoutingoutthefoulestlanguageatthetopofhisvoice.PoorMrs.Carter,shehadadealtoputupwith,anditmustbeownedCarter’sdeathwasamercifulreleaseasfarasshewasconcerned.”
“Heleftadaughter,too,didn’the?”
“Ah,”saidMrs.Pierce.“I’mneveronetogossip.”
Thiswasunexpectedbutpromising.Lukeprickeduphisearsandwaited.
“Idon’tsaytherewasanythinginitbuttalk.LucyCarter’safine-lookingyoungwomaninherway,andifithadn’tbeenforthedifferenceinstationIdaresaynonoticewouldhavebeentaken.Buttalktherehasbeenandyoucan’tdenyit—especiallyafterCarterwentrightuptohishouse,shoutingandswearing.”
Lukegatheredtheimplicationsofthissomewhatconfusedspeech.
“Mr.Abbotlooksasthoughhe’dappreciateagood-lookinggirl,”hesaid.
“It’softenthewaywithgentlemen,”saidMrs.Pierce.“Theydon’tmeananythingbyit—justawordortwoinpassing,butthegentry’sthegentryanditgetsnoticedinconsequence.It’sonlytobeexpectedinaquietplacelikethis.”
“It’saverycharmingplace,”saidLuke.“Sounspoilt.”
“That’swhatartistsalwayssay,butIthinkwe’reabitbehindthetimesmyself.Why,there’sbeennobuildingheretospeakof.OveratAshevale,forinstance,they’vegotalovelylotofnewhouses,someofthemwithgreenroofsandstainedglassinthewindows.”
Lukeshudderedslightly.
“You’vegotagrandnewinstitutehere,”hesaid.
“Theysayit’saveryfinebuilding,”saidMrs.Pierce,withoutgreatenthusiasm.“Ofcourse,hislordship’sdonealotfortheplace.Hemeanswell,weallknowthat.”
“Butyoudon’tthinkhiseffortsarequitesuccessful?”saidLuke,amused.
“Well,ofcourse,sir,heisn’treallygentry—notlikeMissWaynflete,forinstance,andMissConway.Why,LordWhitfield’sfatherkeptaboot-shoponlyafewdoorsfromhere.MymotherremembersGordonRaggservingintheshop—remembersitaswellasanything.Ofcoursehe’shislordshipnowandhe’sarichman—butit’sneverthesame,isit,sir?”
“Evidentlynot,”saidLuke.
“You’llexcusemementioningit,sir,”saidMrs.Pierce.“AndofcourseIknowyou’restayingatthemanorandwritingabook.Butyou’reacousinofMissBridget’s,Iknow,andthat’squiteadifferentthing.VerypleasedweshallbetohaveherbackasmistressofAsheManor.”
“Rather,”saidLuke.“I’msureyouwill.”
Hepaidforhiscigarettesandpaperwithsuddenabruptness.
Hethoughttohimself:
“Thepersonalelement.Onemustkeepthatoutofit!Hell,I’mheretotrackdownacriminal.Whatdoesitmatterwhothatblack-hairedwitchmarriesordoesn’tmarry?Shedoesn’tcomeintothis….”
Hewalkedslowlyalongthestreet.WithanefforthethrustBridgetintothebackofhismind.
“Nowthen,”hesaidtohimself.“Abbot.ThecaseagainstAbbot.I’velinkedhimupwiththreeofthevictims.HehadarowwithHumbleby,arowwithCarterandarowwithTommyPierce—andallthreedied.WhataboutthegirlAmyGibbs?Whatwastheprivateletterthatinfernalboysaw?Didheknowwhoitwasfrom?Ordidn’the?Hemayn’thavesaidsotohismother.Butsupposehedid.SupposeAbbotthoughtitnecessarytoshuthismouth.Itcouldbe!That’sallonecansayaboutit.Itcouldbe!Notgoodenough!”
Lukequickenedhispace,lookingabouthimwithsuddenexasperation.
“Thisdamnedvillage—it’sgettingonmynerves.Sosmilingandpeaceful—soinnocent—andallthetimethiscrazystreakofmurderrunningthroughit.OramIthecrazyone?WasLaviniaPinkertoncrazy?Afterall,thewholethingcouldbecoincidence—yes,Humbleby’sdeathandall….”
HeglancedbackdownthelengthoftheHighStreet—andhewasassailedbyastrongfeelingofunreality.
Hesaidtohimself:
“Thesethingsdon’thappen….”
ThenheliftedhiseyestothelongfrowninglineofAsheRidge—andatoncetheunrealitypassed.AsheRidgewasreal—itknewstrangethings—witchcraftandcrueltyandforgottenbloodlustsandevilrites….
Hestarted.Twofigureswerewalkingalongthesideoftheridge.Herecognizedthemeasily—BridgetandEllsworthy.Theyoungmanwasgesticulatingwiththosecurious,unpleasanthandsofhis.HisheadwasbenttoBridget’s.Theylookedliketwofiguresoutofadream.Onefeltthattheirfeetmadenosoundastheysprangcatlikefromturftoturf
“Bewitched,that’swhatIam,bewitched,”hesaidtohimself.
Hestoodquitestill—aqueernumbedfeelingspreadingoverhim.
Hethoughttohimselfruefully:
“Who’stobreakthespell?There’snoone.”
Ten
ROSEHUMBLEBY
Asoftsoundbehindhimmadehimturnsharply.Agirlwasstandingthere,aremarkablyprettygirlwithbrownhaircurlingroundherearsandrathertimid-lookingdark-blueeyes.Sheflushedalittlewithembarrassmentbeforeshespoke.
“Mr.Fitzwilliam,isn’tit?”shesaid.
“Yes.I—”
“I’mRoseHumbleby.Bridgettoldmethat—thatyouknewsomepeoplewhoknewmyfather.”
Lukehadthegracetoflushslightlyunderhistan.
“Itwasalongtimeago,”hesaidratherlamely.“They—er—knewhimasayoungman—beforehemarried.”
“Oh,Isee.”
RoseHumblebylookedalittlecrestfallen.Butshewenton:
“You’rewritingabook,aren’tyou?”
“Yes.I’mmakingnotesforone,thatis.Aboutlocalsuperstitions.Allthatsortofthing.”
“Isee.Itsoundsfrightfullyinteresting.”
“Itwillprobablybeasdullasditchwater,”Lukeassuredher.
“Oh,no,I’msureitwon’t.”
Lukesmiledather.
Hethought:
“OurDr.Thomasisinluck!”
“Therearepeople,”hesaid,“whocanmakethemostexcitingsubjectunbearablyboring.I’mafraidI’moneofthem.”
“Oh,butwhyshouldyoube?”
“Idon’tknow.Buttheconvictionisgrowinguponme.”
RoseHumblebysaid:
“Youmightbeoneofthepeoplewhomakedullsubjectssoundfrightfullyexciting!”
“Nowthatisanicethought,”saidLuke.“Thankyouforit.”
RoseHumblebysmiledback.Thenshesaid:
“Doyoubelievein—insuperstitionsandallthat?”
“That’sadifficultquestion.Itdoesn’tfollow,youknow.Onecanbeinterestedinthingsonedoesn’tbelievein.”
“Yes,Isupposeso,”thegirlsoundeddoubtful.
“Areyousuperstitious?”
“N-no—Idon’tthinkso.ButIdothinkthingscomein—inwaves.”
“Waves?”
“Wavesofbadluckandgoodluck.Imean—IfeelasthoughlatelyallWychwoodwasunderaspellof—ofmisfortune.Fatherdying—andMissPinkertonbeingrunover,andthatlittleboywhofelloutofthewindow.I—IbegantofeelasthoughIhatedthisplace—asthoughImustgetaway!”
Herbreathcameratherfaster.Lukelookedatherthoughtfully.
“Soyoufeellikethat?”
“Oh!Iknowit’ssilly.Isupposereallyitwaspoordaddydyingsounexpectedly—itwassohorriblysudden.”Sheshivered.“AndthenMissPinkerton.Shesaid—”
Thegirlpaused.
“Whatdidshesay?Shewasadelightfuloldlady,Ithought—verylikearatherspecialauntofmine.”
“Oh,didyouknowher?”Rose’sfacelitup.“Iwasveryfondofherandshewasdevotedtodaddy.ButI’vesometimeswonderedifshewaswhattheScotchcall‘fey.’”
“Why?”
“Because—it’ssoodd—sheseemedquiteafraidthatsomethingwasgoingtohappentodaddy.Shealmostwarnedme.Especiallyaboutaccidents.Andthenthatday—justbeforeshewentuptotown—shewassooddinhermanner—absolutelyinadither.Ireallydothink,Mr.Fitzwilliam,thatshewasoneofthosepeoplewhohavesecondsight.Ithinksheknewthatsomethingwasgoingtohappentoher.Andshemusthaveknownthatsomethingwasgoingtohappentodaddytoo.It’s—it’sratherfrightening,thatsortofthing!”
Shemovedastepnearertohim.
“Therearetimeswhenonecanforeseethefuture,”saidLuke.“Itisn’talwayssupernatural,though.”
“No,Isupposeit’squitenaturalreally—justafacultythatmostpeoplelack.Allthesameit—worriesme—”
“Youmustn’tworry,”saidLukegently.“Remember,it’sallbehindyounow.It’snogoodgoingbackoverthepast.It’sthefutureonehastolivefor.”
“Iknow.Butthere’smore,yousee…”Rosehesitated.“Therewassomething—todowithyourcousin.”
“Mycousin?Bridget?”
“Yes.MissPinkertonwasworriedaboutherinsomeway.Shewasalwaysaskingmequestions…Ithinkshewasafraidforher—too.”
Luketurnedsharply,scanningthehillside.Hehadanunreasoningsenseoffear.Bridget—alonewiththemanwhosehandshadthatunhealthyhueofgreenishdecomposingflesh!Fancy—allfancy!Ellsworthywasonlyaharmlessdilettantewhoplayedatshopkeeping.
Asthoughreadinghisthoughts,Rosesaid:
“DoyoulikeMr.Ellsworthy?”
“Emphaticallyno.”
“Geoffrey—Dr.Thomas,youknow,doesn’tlikehimeither.”
“Andyou?”
“Oh,no—Ithinkhe’sdreadful.”Shedrewalittlenearer.“There’salotoftalkabouthim.IwastoldthathehadsomequeerceremonyintheWitches’Meadow—alotofhisfriendscamedownfromLondon—frightfullyqueer-lookingpeople.AndTommyPiercewasakindofacolyte.”
“TommyPierce?”saidLukesharply.
“Yes.Hehadasurpliceandaredcassock.”
“Whenwasthis?”
“Oh,sometimeago—IthinkitwasinMarch.”
“TommyPierceseemstohavebeenmixed-upineverythingthatevertookplaceinthisvillage.”
Rosesaid:
“Hewasfrightfullyinquisitive.Healwayshadtoknowwhatwasgoingon.”
“Heprobablyknewabittoomuchintheend,”saidLukegrimly.
Roseacceptedthewordsattheirfacevalue.
“Hewasratheranodiouslittleboy.Helikedcuttingupwaspsandheteaseddogs.”
“Thekindofboywhosedeceaseishardlytoberegretted!”
“No,Isupposenot.Itwasterribleforhismother,though.”
“Igathershehasfiveblessingslefttoconsoleher.She’sgotagoodtongue,thatwoman.”
“Shedoestalkalot,doesn’tshe?”
“Afterbuyingafewcigarettesfromher,IfeelIknowthefullhistoryofeveryoneintheplace!”
Rosesaidruefully:
“That’stheworstofaplacelikethis.Everybodyknowseverythingabouteverybodyelse.”
“Oh,no,”saidLuke.
Shelookedathiminquiringly.
Lukesaidwithsignificance:
“Noonehumanbeingknowsthefulltruthaboutanotherhumanbeing.”
Rose’sfacegrewgrave.Shegaveaslightinvoluntaryshiver.
“No,”shesaidslowly.“Isupposethat’strue.”
“Notevenone’snearestanddearest,”saidLuke.
“Noteven—”shestopped.“Oh,Isupposeyou’reright—butIwishyouwouldn’tsayfrighteningthingslikethat,Mr.Fitzwilliam.”
“Doesitfrightenyou?”
Slowlyshenoddedherhead.
Thensheturnedabruptly.
“Imustbegoingnow.If—ifyouhavenothingbettertodo—Imeanifyoucould—docomeandseeus.Motherwould—wouldliketoseeyoubecauseofyourknowingfriendsofdaddy’slongago.”
Shewalkedslowlyawaydowntheroad.Herheadwasbentalittleasthoughsomeweightofcareofperplexityboweditdown.
Lukestoodlookingafterher.Asuddenwaveofsolicitudesweptoverhim.Hefeltalongingtoshieldandprotectthisgirl.
Fromwhat?Askinghimselfthequestion,heshookhisheadwithamomentaryimpatienceathimself.ItwastruethatRoseHumblebyhadrecentlylostherfather,butshehadamother,andshewasengagedtobemarriedtoadecidedlyattractiveyoungmanwhowasfullyadequatetoanythingintheprotectionline.Thenwhyshouldhe,LukeFitzwilliam,beassailedbythisprotectioncomplex?
Goodoldsentimentalitytotheforeagain,thoughtLuke.Theprotectivemale!FlourishingintheVictorianera,goingstrongintheEdwardian,andstillshowingsignsoflifedespitewhatourfriendLordWhitfieldwouldcalltherushandstrainofmodernlife!
“Allthesame,”hesaidtohimselfashestrolledontowardstheloomingmassofAsheRidge,“Ilikethatgirl.She’smuchtoogoodforThomas—acool,superiordevillikethat.”
Amemoryofthedoctor’slastsmileonthedoorsteprecurredtohim.Decidedlysmugithadbeen!Complacent!
ThesoundoffootstepsalittlewayaheadrousedLukefromhisslightlyirritablemeditations.HelookeduptoseeyoungMr.Ellsworthycomingdownthepathfromthehillside.Hiseyeswereonthegroundandhewassmilingtohimself.HisexpressionstruckLukedisagreeably.Ellsworthywasnotsomuchwalkingasprancing—likeamanwhokeepstimetosomedevilishlittlejigrunninginhisbrain.Hissmilewasastrangesecretcontortionofthelips—ithadagleefulslynessthatwasdefinitelyunpleasant.
Lukehadstopped,andEllsworthywasnearlyabreastofhimwhenheatlastlookedup.Hiseyes,maliciousanddancing,mettheotherman’sforjustaminutebeforerecognitioncame.Then,orsoitseemedtoLuke,acompletechangecameovertheman.Whereaminutebeforetherehadbeenthesuggestionofadancingsatyr,therewasnowasomewhateffeminateandpriggishyoungman.
“Oh,Mr.Fitzwilliam,goodmorning.”
“Goodmorning,”saidLuke.“HaveyoubeenadmiringthebeautiesofNature?”
Mr.Ellsworthy’slong,palehandsflewupinareprovinggesture.
“Oh,no,no—oh,dearme,no.IabhorNature.Suchacoarse,unimaginativewench.IhavealwaysheldthatonecannotenjoylifeuntilonehasputNatureinherplace.”
“Andhowdoyouproposetodothat?”
“Thereareways!”saidMr.Ellsworthy.“Inaplacelikethis,adeliciousprovincialspot,therearesomemostdelectableamusementsifonehasthego?t—theflair.Ienjoylife,Mr.Fitzwilliam.”
“SodoI,”saidLuke.
“Menssanaincorporesano,”saidMr.Ellsworthy.Histonewasdelicatelyironic.“I’msurethat’ssotrueofyou.”
“Thereareworsethings,”saidLuke.
“Mydearfellow!Sanityistheoneunbelievablebore.Onemustbemad—deliciouslymad—perverted—slightlytwisted—thenoneseeslifefromanewandentrancingangle.”
“Theleper’ssquint,”suggestedLuke
“Ah,verygood—verygood—quitewitty!Butthere’ssomethinginit,youknow.Aninterestingangleofvision.ButImustn’tdetainyou.You’rehavingexercise—onemusthaveexercise—thepublicschoolspirit!”
“Asyousay,”saidLuke,andwithacurtnodwalkedon.
Hethought:
“I’mgettingtoodarnedimaginative.Thefellow’sjustanass,that’sall.”
Butsomeindefinableuneasinessdrovehisfeetonfaster.Thatqueer,sly,triumphantsmilethatEllsworthyhadhadonhisface—wasthatjustimaginationonhis,Luke’spart?AndhissubsequentimpressionthatithadbeenwipedoffasthoughbyaspongethemomenttheothermancaughtsightofLukecomingtowardshim—whatofthat?
Andwithquickeninguneasinesshethought:
“Bridget?Issheallright?Theycameupheretogetherandhecamebackalone.”
Hehurriedon.ThesunhadcomeoutwhilehewastalkingtoRoseHumbleby.Nowithadgoneinagain.Theskywasdullandmenacing,andwindcameinsuddenerraticlittlepuffs.Itwasasthoughhehadsteppedoutofnormaleverydaylifeintothatqueerhalf-worldofenchantment,theconsciousnessofwhichhadenvelopedhimeversincehecametoWychwood.
Heturnedacornerandcameoutontheflatledgeofgreengrassthathadbeenpointedouttohimfrombelowandwhichwent,heknew,bythenameoftheWitches’Meadow.Itwashere,sotraditionhadit,thatthewitcheshadheldrevelryonWalpurgisNightandHallowe’en
Andthenaquickwaveofreliefsweptoverhim.Bridgetwashere.Shesatwithherbackagainstarockonthehillside.Shewassittingbentover,herheadinherhands.
Hewalkedquicklyovertoher.Lovelyspringingturfstrangelygreenandfresh
Hesaid:
“Bridget?”
Slowlysheraisedherfacefromherhands.Herfacetroubledhim.Shelookedasthoughshewerereturningfromsomefar-offworld,asthoughshehaddifficultyinadjustingherselftotheworldofnowandhere.
Lukesaid—ratherinadequately:
“Isay—you’re—you’reallright,aren’tyou?”
Itwasaminuteortwobeforesheanswered—asthoughshestillhadnotquitecomebackfromthatfar-offworldthathadheldher.Lukefeltthathiswordshadtotravelalongwaybeforetheyreachedher.
Thenshesaid:
“OfcourseI’mallright.Whyshouldn’tIbe?”
Andnowhervoicewassharpandalmosthostile.
Lukegrinned.
“I’mhangedifIknow.Igotthewindupaboutyousuddenly.”
“Why?”
“Mainly,Ithink,becauseofthemelodramaticatmosphereinwhichI’mlivingatpresent.Itmakesmeseethingsoutofallproportion.IfIlosesightofyouforanhourortwoInaturallyassumethatthenextthingwillbetofindyourgorycorpseinaditch.Itwouldbeinaplayorabook.”
“Heroinesareneverkilled,”saidBridget.
“No,but—”
Lukestopped—justintime.
“Whatwereyougoingtosay?”
“Nothing.”
Thankgoodnesshehadjuststoppedhimselfintime.Onecouldn’tverywellsaytoanattractiveyoungwoman,“Butyou’renottheheroine.”
Bridgetwenton:
“Theyareabducted,imprisoned,lefttodieofsewergasorbedrownedincellars—theyarealwaysindanger,buttheydon’teverdie.”
“Norevenfadeaway,”saidLuke.
Hewenton:
“SothisistheWitches’Meadow?”
“Yes.”
Helookeddownather.
“Youonlyneedabroomstick,”hesaidkindly.
“Thankyou.Mr.Ellsworthysaidmuchthesame.”
“Imethimjustnow,”saidLuke.
“Didyoutalktohimatall?”
“Yes.Ithinkhetriedtoannoyme.”
“Didhesucceed?”
“Hismethodswereratherchildish.”Hepausedandthenwentonabruptly.“He’sanoddsortoffellow.Oneminuteyouthinkhe’sjustamess—andthensuddenlyonewondersifthereisn’tabitmoretoitthanthat.”
Bridgetlookedupathim.
“You’vefeltthattoo?”
“Youagreethen?”
“Yes.”
Lukewaited.
Bridgetsaid:
“There’ssomething—oddabouthim.I’vebeenwonderingyouknow…Ilayawakelastnightrackingmybrains.Aboutthewholebusiness.Itseemedtomethatiftherewasa—akillerabout,Ioughttoknowwhoitwas!Imean,livingdownhereandallthat.IthoughtandIthoughtanditcametothis—ifthereisakiller,hemustdefinitelybemad.”
ThinkingofwhatDr.Thomashadsaid,Lukeasked:
“Youdon’tthinkthatamurderercanbeassaneasyouorI?”
“Notthiskindofamurderer.AsIseeit,thismurderermustbecrazy.Andthat,yousee,broughtmestraighttoEllsworthy.Ofallthepeopledownhere,he’stheonlyonewhoisdefinitelyqueer.Heisqueer,youcan’tgetawayfromit!”
Lukesaiddoubtfully:
“Thereareagoodmanyofhissort,dilettanti,poseurs—usuallyquiteharmless.”
“Yes.ButIthinktheremightbealittlemorethanthat.He’sgotsuchnastyhands.”
“Younoticedthat?Funny,Ididtoo!”
“They’renotjustwhite—they’regreen.”
“Theydogiveonethateffect.Allthesame,youcan’tconvictamanofbeingamurdererbecauseofthecolourofhisfleshtints.”
“Oh,quite.Whatwewantisevidence.”
“Evidence!”growledLuke.“Justtheonethingthat’sabsolutelylacking.Theman’sbeentoocareful.Acarefulmurderer!Acarefullunatic!”
“I’vebeentryingtohelp,”saidBridget.
“WithEllsworthy,youmean?”
“Yes.IthoughtIcouldprobablytacklehimbetterthanyoucould.I’vemadeabeginning.”
“Tellme.”
“Well,itseemsthathehasakindoflittlecoterie—abandofnastyfriends.Theycomedownherefromtimetotimeandcelebrate.”
“Doyoumeanwhatarecallednamelessorgies?”
“Idon’tknowaboutnamelessbutcertainlyorgies.Actuallyitallsoundsverysillyandchildish.”
“Isupposetheyworshipthedevilanddoobscenedances.”
“Somethingofthekind.Apparentlytheygetakickoutofit.”
“Icancontributesomethingtothis,”saidLuke.“TommyPiercetookpartinoneoftheirceremonies.Hewasanacolyte.Hehadaredcassock.”
“Soheknewaboutit?”
“Yes.Andthatmightexplainhisdeath.”
“Youmeanhetalkedaboutit?”
“Yes—orhemayhavetriedaspotofquietblackmail.”
Bridgetsaidthoughtfully:
“Iknowit’sallfantastic—butitdoesn’tseemquitesofantasticwhenappliedtoEllsworthyasitdoestoanyoneelse.”
“No,Iagree—thethingbecomesjustconceivableinsteadofbeingludicrouslyunreal.”
“We’vegotaconnectionwithtwoofthevictims,”saidBridget.“TommyPierceandAmyGibbs.”
“WheredothepublicanandHumblebycomein?”
“Atthemomenttheydon’t.”
“Notthepublican.ButIcanimagineamotiveforHumbleby’sremoval.HewasadoctorandhemayhavetumbledtoEllsworthy’sabnormalstate.”
“Yes,that’spossible.”
ThenBridgetlaughed.
“Ididmystuffprettywellthismorning.Mypsychicpossibilitiesaregrand,itseems,andwhenItoldhowoneofmygreat-great-grandmothershadanearescapeofbeingburntforwitchcraftmystockwentsoaringup.IratherthinkthatIshallbeinvitedtotakepartintheorgiesatthenextmeetingoftheSatanicGameswheneverthatmaybe.”
Lukesaid:
“Bridget,forGod’ssake,becareful.”
Shelookedathim,surprised.Hegotup
“ImetHumbleby’sdaughterjustnow.WeweretalkingaboutMissPinkerton.AndtheHumblebygirlsaidthatMissPinkertonhadbeenworriedaboutyou.”
Bridget,intheactofrising,stoppedasthoughfrozenintoimmobility.
“What’sthat?MissPinkerton—worried—aboutme?”
“That’swhatRoseHumblebysaid.”
“RoseHumblebysaidthat?”
“Yes.”
“Whatmoredidshesay?”
“Nothingmore.”
“Areyousure?”
“Quitesure.”
Therewasapause,thenBridgetsaid,“Isee.”
“MissPinkertonwasworriedaboutHumblebyandhedied.NowIhearshewasworriedaboutyou—”
Bridgetlaughed.Shestoodupandshookherheadsothatherlongblackhairflewoutroundherhead.
“Don’tworry,”shesaid.“Thedevillooksafterhisown.”
Eleven
DOMESTICLIFEOFMAJORHORTON
Lukeleanedbackinhischairontheothersideofthebankmanager’stable.
“Well,thatseemsverysatisfactory,”hesaid.“I’mafraidI’vebeentakingupalotofyourtime.”
Mr.Joneswavedadeprecatinghand.Hissmall,dark,plumpfaceworeahappyexpression.
“No,indeed,Mr.Fitzwilliam.Thisisaquietspot,youknow.Wearealwaysgladtoseeastranger.”
“It’safascinatingpartoftheworld,”saidLuke.“Fullofsuperstitions.”
Mr.Jonessighedandsaidittookalongtimeforeducationtoeradicatesuperstition.LukeremarkedthathethoughteducationwastoohighlyratednowadaysandMr.Joneswasslightlyshockedbythestatement.
“LordWhitfield,”hesaid,“hasbeenahandsomebenefactorhere.Herealizesthedisadvantagesunderwhichhehimselfsufferedasaboyandisdeterminedthattheyouthoftodayshallbebetterequipped.”
“Earlydisadvantageshaven’tpreventedhimfrommakingalargefortune,”saidLuke.
“No,hemusthavehadability—greatability.”
“Orluck,”saidLuke.
Mr.Joneslookedrathershocked.
“Luckistheonethingthatcounts,”saidLuke.“Takeamurderer,forexample.Whydoesthesuccessfulmurderergetawaywithit?Isitability?Orisitsheerluck?”
Mr.Jonesadmittedthatitwasprobablyluck.
Lukecontinued:
“TakeafellowlikethismanCarter,thelandlordofoneofyourpubs.Thefellowwasprobablydrunksixnightsoutofseven—yetonenighthegoesandpitcheshimselfoffthefootbridgeintotheriver.Luckagain.”
“Goodluckforsomepeople,”saidthebankmanager.
“Youmean?”
“Forhiswifeanddaughter.”
“Oh,yes,ofcourse.”
Aclerkknockedandenteredbearingpapers.Lukegavetwospecimensignaturesandwasgivenacheque-book.Herose.
“Well,I’mgladthat’sallfixedup.HadabitofluckovertheDerbythisyear.Didyou?”
Mr.Jonessaidsmilinglythathewasnotabettingman.HeaddedthatMrs.Joneshadverystrongviewsonthesubjectofhorseracing.
“ThenIsupposeyoudidn’tgototheDerby?”
“Noindeed.”
“Anybodygotoitfromhere?”
“MajorHortondid.He’squiteakeenracingman.AndMr.Abbotusuallytakesthedayoff.Hedidn’tbackthewinner,though.”
“Idon’tsupposemanypeopledid,”saidLuke,anddepartedaftertheexchangeoffarewells.
Helitacigaretteasheemergedfromthebank.Apartfromthetheoryofthe“leastlikelyperson,”hesawnoreasonforretainingMr.Jonesonhislistofsuspects.ThebankmanagerhadshownnointerestingreactionstoLuke’stestquestions.Itseemedquiteimpossibletovisualizehimasamurderer.Moreover,hehadnotbeenabsentonDerbyDay.Incidentally,Luke’svisithadnotbeenwasted,hehadreceivedtwosmallitemsofinformation.BothMajorHortonandMr.Abbot,thesolicitor,hadbeenawayfromWychwoodonDerbyDay.Eitherofthem,therefore,couldhavebeeninLondonatthetimewhenMissPinkertonwasrundownbyacar.
AlthoughLukedidnotnowsuspectDr.ThomashefelthewouldbemoresatisfiedifheknewforafactthatthelatterhadbeenatWychwoodengagedinhisprofessionaldutiesonthatparticularday.Hemadeamentalnotetoverifythatpoint.
ThentherewasEllsworthy.HadEllsworthybeeninWychwoodonDerbyDay?Ifhehad,thepresumptionthathewasthekillerwascorrespondinglyweakened.Although,Lukenoted,itwaspossiblethatMissPinkerton’sdeathhadbeenneithermorenorlessthantheaccidentthatitwassupposedtobe.
Butherejectedthattheory.Herdeathwastooopportune.
Lukegotintohisowncar,whichwasstandingbythekerb,anddroveinittoPipwell’sGarage,situatedatthefarendoftheHighStreet.
Therewerevarioussmallmattersinthecar’srunningthathewantedtodiscuss.Agood-lookingyoungmechanicwithafreckledfacelistenedintelligently.Thetwomenliftedthebonnetandbecameabsorbedinatechnicaldiscussion.
Avoicecalled:
“Jim,comehereaminute.”
Thefreckled-facedmechanicobeyed.
JimHarvey.Thatwasright.JimHarvey,AmyGibbs’syoungman.Hereturnedpresently,apologizing,andconversationbecametechnicaloncemore.Lukeagreedtoleavethecarthere.
Ashewasabouttoleaveheinquiredcasually:
“DoanygoodontheDerbythisyear?”
“No,sir.BackedClarigold.”
“Can’tbemanypeoplewhobackedJujubetheII.?”
“No,indeed,sir.Idon’tbelieveanyofthepaperseventippeditasanoutsidechance.”
Lukeshookhishead.
“Racing’sanuncertaingame.EverseentheDerbyrun?”
“No,sir,wishIhad.Askedforadayoffthisyear.TherewasacheapticketuptotownanddowntoEpsom,butthebosswouldn’thearofit.Wewereshorthanded,asamatteroffact,andhadalotofworkinthatday.”
Lukenoddedandtookhisdeparture.
JimHarveywascrossedoffhislist.Thatpleasant-facedboywasnotasecretkiller,anditwasnothewhohadrundownLaviniaPinkerton.
Hestrolledhomebywayoftheriverbank.Here,asoncebefore,heencounteredMajorHortonandhisdogs.Themajorwasstillinthesameconditionofapoplecticshouting.“Augustus—Nelly—NELLY,Isay.Nero—Nero—NERO.”
AgaintheprotuberanteyesstaredatLuke.Butthistimetherewasmoretofollow.MajorHortonsaid:
“Excuseme.Mr.Fitzwilliam,isn’tit?”
“Yes.”
“Hortonhere—MajorHorton.BelieveI’mgoingtomeetyoutomorrowupattheManor.Tennisparty.MissConwayverykindlyaskedme.Cousinofyours,isn’tshe?”
“Yes.”
“Thoughtso.Soonspotanewfacedownhere,youknow.”
Hereadiversionoccurred,thethreebulldogsadvancinguponanondescriptwhitemongrel.
“Augustus—Nero.Comehere,sir—comehere,Isay.”
WhenAugustusandNerohadfinallyreluctantlyobeyedthecommand,MajorHortonreturnedtotheconversation.LukewaspattingNelly,whowasgazingupathimsentimentally.
“Nicebitch,that,isn’tshe?”saidthemajor.“Ilikebulldogs.I’vealwayshad’em.Prefer’emtoanyotherbreed.Myplaceisjustnearhere,comeinandhaveadrink.”
LukeacceptedandthetwomenwalkedtogetherwhileMajorHortonheldforthonthesubjectofdogsandtheinferiorityofallotherbreedstothatwhichhehimselfpreferred.
LukeheardoftheprizesNellyhadwon,oftheinfamousconductofajudgeinawardingAugustusmerelyaHighlyCommended,andofthetriumphsofNerointheshowring.
Bythentheyhadturnedinatthemajor’sgate.Heopenedthefrontdoor,whichwasnotlocked,andthetwomenpassedintothehouse.Leadingthewayintoasmallslightlydoggy-smellingroomlinedwithbookshelves,MajorHortonbusiedhimselfwiththedrinks.Lukelookedroundhim.Therewerephotographsofdogs,copiesoftheFieldandCountryLifeandacoupleofwell-wornarmchairs.Silvercupswerearrangedroundthebookcases.Therewasoneoilpaintingoverthemantelpiece.
“Mywife,”saidthemajor,lookingupfromthesiphonandnotingthedirectionofLuke’sglance.“Remarkablewoman.Alotofcharacterinherface,don’tyouthink?”
“Yes,indeed,”saidLuke,lookingatthelateMrs.Horton.
Shewasrepresentedinapinksatindressandwasholdingabunchofliliesofthevalley.Herbrownhairwaspartedinthemiddleandherlipswerepressedgrimlytogether.Hereyes,ofacoldgrey,lookedoutill-temperedlyatthebeholder.
“Aremarkablewoman,”saidthemajor,handingaglasstoLuke.“Shediedoverayearago.Ihaven’tbeenthesamemansince.”
“No?”saidLuke,alittleatalosstoknowwhattosay.
“Sitdown,”saidthemajor,wavingahandtowardsoneoftheleatherchairs.
Hehimselftooktheotheroneandsippinghiswhiskyandsoda,hewenton:
“No,Ihaven’tbeenthesamemansince.”
“Youmustmissher,”saidLukeawkwardly.
MajorHortonshookhisheaddarkly.
“Fellowneedsawifetokeephimuptoscratch,”hesaid.“Otherwisehegetsslack—yes,slack.Heletshimselfgo.”
“Butsurely—”
“Myboy,IknowwhatI’mtalkingabout.Mindyou,I’mnotsayingmarriagedoesn’tcomehardonafellowatfirst.Itdoes.Fellowsaystohimself,damnitall,hesays,Ican’tcallmysoulmyown!Buthegetsbrokenin.It’salldiscipline.”
LukethoughtthatMajorHorton’smarriedlifemusthavebeenmorelikeamilitarycampaignthananidyllofdomesticbliss.
“Women,”soliloquizedthemajor,“arearumlot.Itseemssometimesthatthere’snopleasingthem.ButbyJove,theykeepamanuptothemark.”
Lukepreservedarespectfulsilence.
“Youmarried?”inquiredthemajor.
“No.”
“Ah,well,you’llcometoit.Andmindyou,myboy,there’snothinglikeit.”
“It’salwayscheering,”saidLuke,“tohearsomeonespeakwellofthemarriagestate.Especiallyinthesedaysofeasydivorce.”
“Pah!”saidthemajor.“Youngpeoplemakemesick.Nostamina—noendurance.Theycan’tstandanything.Nofortitude!”
Lukeitchedtoaskwhysuchexceptionalfortitudeshouldbeneeded,buthecontrolledhimself.
“Mindyou,”saidthemajor,“Lydiawasawomaninathousand—inathousand!Everyonehererespectedandlookeduptoher.”
“Yes?”
“Shewouldn’tstandanynonsense.She’dgotawayoffixingapersonwithhereye—andthepersonwilted—justwilted.Someofthesehalf-bakedgirlswhocallthemselvesservantsnowadays.Theythinkyou’llputupwithanyinsolence.Lydiasoonshowedthem!Doyouknowwehadfifteencooksandhouse-parlourmaidsinoneyear.Fifteen!”
LukefeltthatthiswashardlyatributetoMrs.Horton’sdomesticmanagement,butsinceitseemedtostrikehishostdifferentlyhemerelymurmuredsomevagueremark.
“Turned’emoutneckandcrop,shedid,iftheydidn’tsuit.”
“Wasitalwaysthatwayabout?”askedLuke.
“Well,ofcoursealotofthemwalkedoutonus.Agoodriddance—that’swhatLydiausedtosay!”
“Afinespirit,”saidLuke,“butwasn’titsometimesratherawkward?”
“Oh!Ididn’tmindturningtoandputtingmyhandtothings,”saidHorton.“I’maprettyfaircookandIcanlayafirewithanyone.I’venevercaredforwashingupbutofcourseit’sgottobedone—youcan’tgetawayfromthat.”
Lukeagreedthatyoucouldn’t.HeaskedwhetherMrs.Hortonhadbeengoodatdomesticwork.
“I’mnotthesortoffellowtolethiswifewaitonhim,”saidMajorHorton.“AndanywayLydiawasfartoodelicatetodoanyhousework.”
“Shewasn’tstrongthen?”
MajorHortonshookhishead.
“Shehadwonderfulspirit.Shewouldn’tgivein.Butwhatthatwomansuffered!Andnosympathyfromthedoctorseither.Doctorsarecallousbrutes.Theyonlyunderstanddownrightphysicalpain.Anythingoutoftheordinaryisbeyondmostofthem.Humbleby,forinstance,everyoneseemedtothinkhewasagooddoctor.”
“Youdon’tagree.”
“Themanwasanabsoluteignoramus.Knewnothingofmoderndiscoveries.Doubtifhe’deverheardofaneurosis!Heunderstoodmeaslesandmumpsandbrokenbonesallright,Isuppose.Butnothingelse.Hadarowwithhimintheend.Hedidn’tunderstandLydia’scaseatall.Igaveithimstraightfromtheshoulderandhedidn’tlikeit.Gothuffedandbackedrightout.SaidIcouldsendforanyotherdoctorIchose.Afterthat,wehadThomas.”
“Youlikedhimbetter?”
“Altogetheramuchclevererman.IfanyonecouldhavepulledherthroughherlastillnessThomaswouldhavedoneit.Asamatteroffactshewasgettingbetter,butshehadasuddenrelapse.”
“Wasitpainful?”
“H’m,yes.Gastritis.Acutepain—sickness—alltherestofit.Howthatpoorwomansuffered!Shewasamartyrifthereeverwasone.Andacoupleofhospitalnursesinthehousewhowereaboutassympatheticasabraceofgrandfatherclocks!‘Thepatientthis’and‘thepatientthat.’”Themajorshookhisheadanddrainedhisglass.“Can’tstandhospitalnurses!Sosmug.Lydiainsistedtheywerepoisoningher.Thatwasn’ttrue,ofcourse—aregularsickfancy—lotsofpeoplehaveit,soThomassaid—buttherewasthismuchtruthbehindit—thosewomendislikedher.That’stheworstofwomen—alwaysdownontheirownsex.”
“Isuppose,”saidLuke,feelingthathewasputtingitawkwardlybutnotseeinghowtoputitbetter,“thatMrs.HortonhadalotofdevotedfriendsinWychwood?”
“Peoplewereverykind,”saidthemajorsomewhatgrudgingly.“Whitfieldsentdowngrapesandpeachesfromhishothouse.Andtheoldtabbiesusedtocomeandsitwithher.HonoriaWaynfleteandLaviniaPinkerton.”
“MissPinkertoncameoften,didshe?”
“Yes.Regularoldmaid—butakindcreature!VeryworriedaboutLydiashewas.Usedtoinquireintothedietandthemedicines.Allkindlymeant,youknow,butwhatIcallalotoffuss.”
Lukenoddedcomprehendingly.
“Can’tstandfuss,”saidthemajor.“Toomanywomeninthisplace.Difficulttogetadecentgameofgolf.”
“Whatabouttheyoungfellowattheantiqueshop?”saidLuke.
Themajorsnorted:
“Hedoesn’tplaygolf.MuchtoomuchofaMissNancy.”
“HashebeeninWychwoodlong?”
“Abouttwoyears.Nastysortoffellow.Hatethoselong-hairedpurringchaps.FunnilyenoughLydialikedhim.Youcan’ttrustwomen’sjudgementaboutmen.Theycottontosomeamazingbounders.Sheeveninsistedontakingsomepatentquacknostrumofhis.StuffinapurpleglassjarwithsignsoftheZodiacalloverit!Supposedtobecertainherbspickedatthefullofthemoon.Lotoftomfoolery,butwomenswallowthatstuff—swallowitliterallytoo—ha,ha!”
Lukesaid,feelingthathewaschangingthesubjectratherabruptly,butcorrectlyjudgingthatMajorHortonwouldnotbeawareofthefact:
“WhatsortoffellowisAbbot,thelocalsolicitor?Prettysoundonthelaw?I’vegottohavesomelegaladviceaboutsomethingandIthoughtImightgotohim.”
“Theysayhe’sprettyshrewd,”acknowledgedMajorHorton.“Idon’tknow.MatteroffactI’vehadarowwithhim.NotseenhimsincehecameoutheretomakeLydia’swillforherjustbeforeshedied.Inmyopinionthatman’sacad.Butofcourse,”headded,“thatdoesn’taffecthisabilityasalawyer.”
“No,ofcoursenot,”saidLuke.“Heseemsaquarrelsomesortofman,though.SeemstohavefallenoutwithagoodmanypeoplefromwhatIhear.”
“Troublewithhimisthathe’ssoconfoundedlytouchy,”saidMajorHorton.“Seemstothinkhe’sGodAlmightyandthatanyonewhodisagreeswithhimiscommittinglèse-majesté.HeardofhisrowwithHumbleby?”
“Theyhadarow,didthey?”
“First-classrow.Mindyou,thatdoesn’tsurpriseme.Humblebywasanopinionatedass!Still,thereitis.”
“Hisdeathwasverysad.”
“Humbleby’s?Yes,Isupposeitwas.Lackofordinarycare.Bloodpoisoning’sadamneddangerousthing.Alwaysputiodineonacut—Ido!Simpleprecaution.Humbleby,who’sadoctor,doesn’tdoanythingofthesort.Itjustshows.”
Lukewasnotquitesurewhatitshowed,butheletthatpass.Glancingathiswatchhegotup.
MajorHortonsaid:
“Gettingonforlunchtime?Soitis.Well,gladtohavehadachatwithyou.Doesmegoodtoseeamanwho’sbeenabouttheworldabit.Wemusthaveayarnsomeothertime.Wherewasyourshow?MayangStraits?Neverbeenthere.Hearyou’rewritingabook.Superstitionsandallthat.”
“Yes—I—”
ButMajorHortonswepton.
“Icantellyouseveralveryinterestingthings.WhenIwasinIndia,myboy—”
Lukeescapedsometenminuteslaterafterenduringtheusualhistoriesoffakirs,ropeandmangotricks,deartotheretiredAnglo-Indian.
Ashesteppedoutintotheopenair,andheardthemajor’svoicebellowingtoNerobehindhim,hemarvelledatthemiracleofmarriedlife.MajorHortonseemedgenuinelytoregretawifewho,byallaccounts,notexcludinghisown,musthavebeennearlyalliedtoaman-eatingtiger.
Orwasit—Lukeaskedhimselfthequestionsuddenly—wasitanexceedinglycleverbluff?
Twelve
PASSAGEOFARMS
Theafternoonofthetennispartywasfortunatelyfine.LordWhitfieldwasinhismostgenialmood,actingthepartofthehostwithagooddealofenjoyment.Hereferredfrequentlytohishumbleorigin.Theplayerswereeightinall.LordWhitfield,Bridget,Luke,RoseHumbleby,Mr.Abbot,Dr.Thomas,MajorHortonandHettyJones,agigglingyoungwomanwhowasthedaughterofthebankmanager.
Inthesecondsetoftheafternoon,LukefoundhimselfpartneringBridgetagainstLordWhitfieldandRoseHumbleby.Rosewasagoodplayerwithastrongforehanddriveandplayedincountymatches.SheatonedforLordWhitfield’sfailures,andBridgetandLuke,whowereneitherofthemparticularlystrong,madequiteanevenmatchofit.Theywerethreegamesall,andthenLukefoundastreakoferraticbrillianceandheandBridgetforgedaheadtofive-three.
ItwasthenheobservedthatLordWhitfieldwaslosinghistemper.Hearguedoveralineball,declaredaservetobeafaultinspiteofRose’sdisclaimer,anddisplayedalltheattributesofapeevishchild.Itwassetpoint,butBridgetsentaneasyshotintothenetandimmediatelyafterservedadoublefault.Deuce.Thenextballwasreturneddownthemiddlelineandashepreparedtotakeitheandhispartnercollided.ThenBridgetservedanotherdoublefaultandthegamewaslost.
Bridgetapologized.“Sorry,I’vegonetopieces.”
Itseemedtrueenough.Bridget’sshotswerewildandsheseemedtobeunabletodoanythingright.ThesetendedwithLordWhitfieldandhispartnervictoriousatthescoreofeight-six.
Therewasamomentarydiscussionastothecompositionofthenextset.IntheendRoseplayedagainwithMr.AbbotasherpartneragainstDr.ThomasandMissJones.
LordWhitfieldsatdown,wipinghisforeheadandsmilingcomplacently,hisgoodhumourquiterestored.HebegantotalktoMajorHortononthesubjectofaseriesofarticlesonFitnessforBritainwhichoneofhispaperswasstarring
LukesaidtoBridget:
“Showmethekitchengarden.”
“Whythekitchengarden?”
“Ihaveafeelingforcabbages.”
“Won’tgreenpeasdo?”
“Greenpeaswouldbeadmirable.”
Theywalkedawayfromthetenniscourtandcametothewalledkitchengarden.ItwasemptyofgardenersthisSaturdayafternoonandlookedlazyandpeacefulinthesunshine.
“Hereareyourpeas,”saidBridget.
Lukepaidnoattentiontotheobjectofthevisit.Hesaid:
“Whythehelldidyougivethemtheset?”
Bridget’seyebrowswentupafraction.
“I’msorry.Iwenttobits.Mytennisiserratic.”
“Notsoerraticasthat!Thosedoublefaultsofyourswouldn’tdeceiveachild!Andthosewildshots—eachofthemhalfamileout!”
Bridgetsaidcalmly:
“That’sbecauseI’msucharottentennisplayer.IfIwereabitbetterIcouldperhapshavemadeitabitmoreplausible!ButasitisifItrytomakeaballgojustout,it’salwaysonthelineandallthegoodworkstilltodo.”
“Oh,youadmititthen?”
“Obvious,mydearWatson.”
“Andthereason?”
“Equallyobvious,Ishouldhavethought.Gordondoesn’tlikelosing.”
“Andwhataboutme?SupposingIliketowin?”
“I’mafraid,mydearLuke,thatthatisn’tequallyimportant.”
“Wouldyouliketomakeyourmeaningjustalittleclearerstill?”
“Certainly,ifyoulike.Onemustn’tquarrelwithone’sbreadandbutter.Gordonismybreadandbutter.Youarenot.”
Lukedrewadeepbreath.Thenheexploded.
“Whatthehelldoyoumeanbymarryingthatabsurdlittleman?Whyareyoudoingit?”
“BecauseashissecretaryIgetsixpoundsaweek,andashiswifeIshallgetahundredthousandsettledonme,ajewelcasefullofpearlsanddiamonds,ahandsomeallowance,andvariousperquisitesofthemarriedstate!”
“Butforsomewhatdifferentduties!”
Bridgetsaidcoldly:
“Mustwehavethismelodramaticattitudetowardseverysinglethinginlife?IfyouarecontemplatingaprettypictureofGordonasanuxorioushusband,youcanwashitrightout!Gordon,asyoushouldhaverealized,isasmallboywhohasnotquitegrownup.Whatheneedsisamother,notawife.Unfortunatelyhismotherdiedwhenhewasfouryearsold.Whathewantsissomeoneathandtowhomhecanbrag,someonewhowillreassurehimabouthimselfandwhoispreparedtolistenindefinitelytoLordWhitfieldonthesubjectofHimself!”
“You’vegotabittertongue,haven’tyou?”
Bridgetretortedsharply:
“Idon’ttellmyselffairystoriesifthat’swhatyoumean!I’mayoungwomanwithacertainamountofintelligence,verymoderatelooks,andnomoney.Iintendtoearnanhonestliving.MyjobasGordon’swifewillbepracticallyindistinguishablefrommyjobasGordon’ssecretary.AfterayearIdoubtifhe’llremembertokissmegoodnight.Theonlydifferenceisinthesalary.”
Theylookedateachother.Bothofthemwerepalewithanger.Bridgetsaidjeeringly:
“Goon.You’reratherold-fashioned,aren’tyou,Mr.Fitzwilliam?Hadn’tyoubettertrotouttheoldclichés—saythatI’msellingmyselfformoney—that’salwaysagoodone,Ithink!”
Lukesaid:“You’reacold-bloodedlittledevil!”
“That’sbetterthanbeingahot-bloodedlittlefool!”
“Isit?”
“Yes.Iknow.”
Lukesneered.“Whatdoyouknow?”
“Iknowwhatitistocareaboutaman!DidyouevermeetJohnnieCornish?Iwasengagedtohimforthreeyears.Hewasadorable—Icaredlikehellabouthim—caredsomuchthatithurt!Well,hethrewmeoverandmarriedaniceplumpwidowwithaNorth-Countryaccentandthreechinsandanincomeofthirtythousandayear!Thatsortofthingrathercuresoneofromance,don’tyouthink?”
Luketurnedawaywithasuddengroan.Hesaid:
“Itmight.”
“Itdid….”
Therewasapause.Thesilencelayheavybetweenthem.Bridgetbrokeitatlast.Shesaid,butwithaslightuncertaintyinhertone:
“Ihopeyourealizethatyouhadnoearthlyrighttospeaktomeasyoudid.You’restayinginGordon’shouseandit’sdamnedbadtaste!”
Lukerecoveredhiscomposure.
“Isn’tthatratheraclichétoo?”heinquiredpolitely.
Bridgetflushed.“It’strue,anyway!”
“Itisn’t.Ihadeveryright.”
“Nonsense!”
Lukelookedather.Hisfacehadaqueerpallor,likeamanwhoissufferingphysicalpain.Hesaid:
“Ihavearight.I’vetherightofcaringforyou—whatdidyousayjustnow?—ofcaringsomuchthatithurts!”
Shedrewbackastep.Shesaid:“You—”
“Yes,funny,isn’tit?Thesortofthingthatoughttogiveyouaheartylaugh!Icamedownheretodoajobofworkandyoucameroundthecornerofthathouseand—howcanIsayit—putaspellonme!That’swhatitfeelslike.Youmentionedfairystoriesjustnow.I’mcaughtupinafairystory!You’vebewitchedme.I’veafeelingthatifyoupointedyourfingeratmeandsaid:‘Turnintoafrog,’I’dgohoppingawaywithmyeyespoppingoutofmyhead.”
Hetookastepnearertoher.
“Iloveyoulikehell,BridgetConway.And,lovingyoulikehell,youcan’texpectmetoenjoyseeingyougetmarriedtoapotbelliedpompouslittlepeerwholoseshistemperwhenhedoesn’twinattennis.”
“WhatdoyousuggestIshoulddo?”
“Isuggestthatyoushouldmarrymeinstead!Butdoubtlessthatsuggestionwillgiverisetoalotofmerrylaughter.”
“Thelaughterispositivelyuproarious.”
“Exactly.Well,nowweknowwhereweare.Shallwereturntothetenniscourt?Perhapsthistimeyouwillfindmeapartnerwhocanplaytowin!”
“Really,”saidBridgetsweetly,“IbelieveyoumindlosingjustasmuchasGordondoes!”
Lukecaughthersuddenlybytheshoulders.
“You’vegotadevilishtongue,haven’tyou,Bridget?”
“I’mafraidyoudon’tlikemeverymuch,Luke,howevergreatyourpassionforme!”
“Idon’tthinkIlikeyouatall.”
Bridgetsaid,watchinghim:
“Youmeanttogetmarriedandsettledownwhenyoucamehome,didn’tyou?”
“Yes.”
“Butnottosomeonelikeme?”
“Ineverthoughtofanyoneintheleastlikeyou.”
“No—youwouldn’t—Iknowyourtype.Iknowitexactly.”
“Youaresoclever,dearBridget.”
“Areallynicegirl—thoroughlyEnglish—fondofthecountryandgoodwithdogs…Youprobablyvisualizedherinatweedskirtstirringalogfirewiththetipofhershoe.”
“Thepicturesoundsmostattractive.”
“I’msureitdoes.Shallwereturntothetenniscourt?YoucanplaywithRoseHumbleby.She’ssogoodthatyou’repracticallycertaintowin.”
“Beingold-fashionedImustallowyoutohavethelastword.”
Againtherewasapause.ThenLuketookhishandsslowlyfromhershoulders.Theybothstooduncertainasthoughsomethingstillunsaidlingeredbetweenthem.
ThenBridgetturnedabruptlyandledthewayback.Thenextsetwasjustending.Roseprotestedagainstplayingagain
“I’veplayedtwosetsrunning.”
Bridget,however,insisted.
“I’mfeelingtired.Idon’twanttoplay.YouandMr.FitzwilliamtakeonMissJonesandMajorHorton.”
ButRosecontinuedtoprotestandintheendamen’sfourwasarranged.Afterwardscametea.
LordWhitfieldconversedwithDr.Thomas,describingatlengthandwithgreatself-importanceavisithehadrecentlypaidtotheWellermanKreitzResearchLaboratories.
“Iwantedtounderstandthetrendofthelatestscientificdiscoveriesformyself,”heexplainedearnestly.“I’mresponsibleforwhatmypapersprint.Ifeelthatverykeenly.Thisisascientificage.Sciencemustbemadeeasilyassimilablebythemasses.”
“Alittlesciencemightpossiblybeadangerousthing,”saidDr.Thomaswithaslightshrugofhisshoulders.
“Scienceinthehome,that’swhatwehavetoaimat,”saidLordWhitfield.“Scienceminded—”
“Testtubeconscious,”saidBridgetgravely.
“Iwasimpressed,”saidLordWhitfield.“Wellermantookmeroundhimself,ofcourse.Ibeggedhimtoleavemetoanunderling,butheinsisted.”
“Naturally,”saidLuke.
LordWhitfieldlookedgratified.
“Andheexplainedeverythingmostclearly—theculture—theserum—thewholeprincipleofthething.Heagreedtocontributethefirstarticleintheserieshimself.”
Mrs.Anstruthermurmured:
“Theyuseguinea-pigs,Ibelieve—socruel—thoughofcoursenotsobadasdogs—orevencats.”
“Fellowswhousedogsoughttobeshot,”saidMajorHorton,hoarsely.
“Ireallybelieve,Horton,”saidMr.Abbot,“thatyouvaluecaninelifeabovehumanlife.”
“Everytime!”saidthemajor.“Dogscan’tturnroundonyoulikehumanbeingscan.Nevergetanastywordfromadog.”
“Onlyanastytoothstuckintoyourleg,”saidMr.Abbot.“Eh,Horton?”
“Dogsareagoodjudgeofcharacter,”saidMajorHorton.
“Oneofyourbrutesnearlypinnedmebytheleglastweek.Whatdoyousaytothat,Horton?”
“SameasIsaidjustnow!”
Bridgetinterposedtactfully:
“Whataboutsomemoretennis?”
Acouplemoresetswereplayed.Then,asRoseHumblebysaidgood-bye,Lukeappearedbesideher.
“I’llseeyouhome,”hesaid.“Andcarrythetennisbat.Youhaven’tgotacar,haveyou?”
“No,butit’snodistance.”
“I’dlikeawalk.”
Hesaidnomore,merelytakingherracquetandshoesfromher.Theywalkeddownthedrivewithoutspeaking.ThenRosementionedoneortwotrivialmatters.Lukeansweredrathershortlybutthegirldidnotseemtonotice.
Astheyturnedintothegateofherhouse,Luke’sfacecleared.
“I’mfeelingbetternow,”hesaid.
“Wereyoufeelingbadlybefore?”
“Niceofyoutopretendyoudidn’tnoticeit.You’veexorcisedthebrute’ssulkytemper,though.Funny,IfeelasthoughI’dcomeoutofadarkcloudintothesun.”
“Soyouhave.TherewasacloudoverthesunwhenwelefttheManorandnowit’spassedover.”
“Soit’sliterallyaswellasfiguratively.Well,well—theworld’sagoodplaceafterall.”
“Ofcourseitis.”
“MissHumbleby,mayIbeimpertinent?”
“I’msureyoucouldn’tbe.”
“Oh,don’tbetoosureofthat.IwantedtosaythatIthinkDr.Thomasisaveryluckyman.”
Roseblushedandsmiled.
Shesaid:“Soyou’veheard?”
“Wasitsupposedtobeasecret?I’msosorry.”
“Oh!Nothingisasecretinthisplace,”saidRoseruefully.
“Soitistrue—youandheareengaged?”
Rosenodded.
“Only—justnow—we’renotannouncingitofficially.Yousee,daddywasagainstitanditseems—well—unkindto—toblazonitabroadthemomenthe’sdead.”
“Yourfatherdisapproved?”
“Well,notdisapprovedexactly.Oh,Isupposeitdidamounttothat,really.”
Lukesaidgently:
“Hethoughtyouweretooyoung?”
“That’swhathesaid.”
Lukesaidacutely:“Butyouthinktherewassomethingmorethanthat?”
Rosebentherheadslowlyandreluctantly.
“Yes—I’mafraidwhatitreallyamountedtowasthatdaddydidn’t—well,didn’treallylikeGeoffrey.”
“Theywereantagonistictoeachother?”
“Itseemedlikethatsometimes…Ofcourse,daddywasratheraprejudicedolddear.”
“AndIsupposehewasveryfondofyouanddidn’tlikethethoughtoflosingyou?”
Roseassentedbutstillwithashadeofreservationinhermanner.
“Itwentdeeperthanthat?”askedLuke.“Hedefinitelydidn’twantThomasasahusbandforyou?”
“No.Yousee—daddyandGeoffreyaresoveryunlike—andinsomewaystheyclashed.Geoffreywasreallyverypatientandgoodaboutit—butknowingdaddydidn’tlikehimmadehimevenmorereservedandshyinhismanner,sothatdaddyreallynevergottoknowhimanybetter.”
“Prejudicesareveryhardtocombat,”saidLuke.
“Itwassocompletelyunreasonable!”
“Yourfatherdidn’tadvanceanyreasons?”
“Oh,no.Hecouldn’t!Naturally,Imean,therewasn’tanythinghecouldsayagainstGeoffreyexceptthathedidn’tlikehim.”
“Idonotlikethee,Dr.Fell,thereasonwhyIcannottell.”
“Exactly.”
“Notangiblethingtogetholdof?Imean,yourGeoffreydoesn’tdrinkorbackhorses?”
“Oh,no.Idon’tbelieveGeoffreyevenknowswhatwontheDerby.”
“That’sfunny,”saidLuke.“Youknow,IcouldswearIsawyourDr.ThomasatEpsomonDerbyDay.”
ForamomenthewasanxiouslesthemightalreadyhavementionedthatheonlyarrivedinEnglandonthatday.ButRoserespondedatoncequiteunsuspiciously.
“YouthoughtyousawGeoffreyattheDerby?Oh,no.Hecouldn’tgetaway,foronething.HewasoveratAshewoldnearlyallthatdayatadifficultconfinementcase.”
“Whatamemoryyou’vegot!”
Roselaughed.
“Irememberthat,becausehetoldmetheycalledthebabyJujubeasanickname!”
Lukenoddedabstractedly.
“Anyway,”saidRose,“Geoffreynevergoestoracemeetings.He’dbeboredtodeath.”
Sheadded,inadifferenttone:
“Won’tyou—comein?Ithinkmotherwouldliketoseeyou.”
“Ifyou’resureofthat?”
Roseledthewayintoaroomwheretwilighthungrathersadly.Awomanwassittinginanarmchairinacuriouslyhuddledupposition.
“Mother,thisisMr.Fitzwilliam.”
Mrs.Humblebygaveastartandshookhands.Rosewentquietlyoutoftheroom.
“I’mgladtoseeyou,Mr.Fitzwilliam.Somefriendsofyoursknewmyhusbandmanyyearsago,soRosetellsme.”
“Yes,Mrs.Humbleby.”Heratherhatedrepeatingthelietothewidowedwoman,buttherewasnowayoutofit.
Mrs.Humblebysaid:
“Iwishyoucouldhavemethim.Hewasafinemanandagreatdoctor.Hecuredmanypeoplewhohadbeengivenupashopelessjustbythestrengthofhispersonality.”
Lukesaidgently:
“I’veheardalotabouthimsinceI’vebeenhere.Iknowhowmuchpeoplethoughtofhim.”
HecouldnotseeMrs.Humbleby’sfaceverydistinctly.Hervoicewasrathermonotonous,butitsverylackoffeelingseemedtoemphasizethefactthatactuallyfeelingwasinher,strenuouslyheldback.
Shesaidratherunexpectedly:
“Theworldisaverywickedplace,Mr.Fitzwilliam.Doyouknowthat?”
Lukewasalittlesurprised.
“Yes,perhapsthatmaybe.”
Sheinsisted:
“No,butdoyouknowit?It’simportantthat.There’salotofwickednessabout…Onemustbeprepared—tofightit!Johnwas.Heknew.Hewasonthesideoftheright!”
Lukesaidgently:
“I’msurehewas.”
“Heknewthewickednesstherewasinthisplace,”saidMrs.Humbleby.“Heknew—”
Sheburstsuddenlyintotears.
Lukemurmured:
“I’msosorry—”andstopped.
Shecontrolledherselfassuddenlyasshehadlostcontrol.
“Youmustforgiveme,”shesaid.Sheheldoutherhandandhetookit.“Docomeandseeuswhileyouarehere,”shesaid.“ItwouldbesogoodforRose.Shelikesyousomuch.”
“Ilikeher.IthinkyourdaughteristhenicestgirlI’vemetforalongtime,Mrs.Humbleby.”
“She’sverygoodtome.”
“Dr.Thomasisaveryluckyman.”
“Yes.”Mrs.Humblebydroppedhishand.Hervoicehadgoneflatagain.“Idon’tknow—it’sallsodifficult.”
Lukeleftherstandinginthehalfgloom,herfingersnervouslytwistinganduntwistingthemselves.
Ashewalkedhomehismindwentovervariousaspectsoftheconversation.
Dr.ThomashadbeenabsentfromWychwoodforagoodpartofDerbyDay.Hehadbeenabsentinacar.Wychwoodwasthirty-fivemilesfromLondon.Supposedlyhehadbeenattendingaconfinementcase.Wastheremorethanhisword?Thepoint,hesupposed,couldbeverified.HismindwentontoMrs.Humbleby.
Whathadshemeantbyherinsistenceonthatphrase,“There’salotofwickednessabout…?”
Wasshejustnervousandoverwroughtbytheshockofherhusband’sdeath?Orwastheresomethingmoretoitthanthat?
Didsheperhapsknowsomething?SomethingthatDr.Humblebyhadknownbeforehedied?
“I’vegottogoonwiththis,”saidLuketohimself.“I’vegottogoon.”
ResolutelyheavertedhismindfromthepassageofarmsthathadtakenplacebetweenhimandBridget.
Thirteen
MISSWAYNFLETETALKS
OnthefollowingmorningLukecametoadecision.Hehad,hefelt,proceededasfarashecouldwithindirectinquiries.Itwasinevitablethatsoonerorlaterhewouldbeforcedintotheopen.Hefeltthatthetimehadcometodropthebook-writingcamouflageandrevealthathehadcometoWychwoodwithadefiniteaiminview.
InpursuanceofthisplanofcampaignhedecidedtocalluponHonoriaWaynflete.Notonlyhadhebeenfavourablyimpressedbythatmiddle-agedspinster’sairofdiscretionandacertainshrewdnessofoutlook—buthefanciedthatshemighthaveinformationthatwouldhelphim.Hebelievedthatshehadtoldhimwhatsheknew.Hewantedtoinducehertotellhimwhatshemighthaveguessed.HehadashrewdideathatMissWaynflete’sguessesmightbefairlynearthetruth.
Hecalledimmediatelyafterchurch.
MissWaynfletereceivedhiminamatter-of-factmanner,showingnosurpriseathiscall.Asshesatdownnearhim,herprimhandsfoldedandherintelligenteyes—solikeanamiablegoat’s—fixedonhisface,hefoundlittledifficultyincomingtotheobjectofhisvisit.
Hesaid:“Idaresayyouhaveguessed,MissWaynflete,thatthereasonofmycominghereisnotmerelytowriteabookonlocalcustoms?”
MissWaynfleteinclinedherheadandcontinuedtolisten.
Lukewasnotmindedasyettogointothefullstory.MissWaynfletemightbediscreet—shecertainlygavehimtheimpressionofbeingso—butwhereanelderlyspinsterwasconcernedLukefelthecouldhardlyrelyonherresistingthetemptationtoconfideanexcitingstorytooneortwotrustedcronies.Hethereuponproposedtoadoptamiddlecourse
“Iamdownheretoinquireintothecircumstancesofthedeathofthatpoorgirl,AmyGibbs.”
MissWaynfletesaid:
“Youmeanyouhavebeensentdownbythepolice?”
“Oh,no—I’mnotaplainclothesdick.”Headdedwithaslightlyhumorousinflection,“I’mafraidI’mthatwell-knowncharacterinfiction,theprivateinvestigator.”
“Isee.ThenitwasBridgetConwaywhobroughtyoudownhere?”
Lukehesitatedamoment.Thenhedecidedtoletitgoatthat.WithoutgoingintothewholePinkertonstory,itwasdifficulttoaccountforhispresence.MissWaynfletewascontinuing,anoteofgentleadmirationinhervoice.
“Bridgetissopractical—soefficient!I’mafraid,ifithadbeenlefttome,Ishouldhavedistrustedmyownjudgement—Imean,thatifyouarenotabsolutelysureofathing,itissodifficulttocommityourselftoadefinitecourseofaction.”
“Butyouaresure,aren’tyou?”
MissWaynfletesaidgravely:
“No,indeed,Mr.Fitzwilliam.Itisnotathingonecanbesureabout!Imean,itmightallbeimagination.Livingalone,withnoonetoconsultortotalkto,onemighteasilybecomemelodramaticandimaginethingswhichhadnofoundationinfact.”
Lukeassentedreadilytothisstatement,recognizingitsinherenttruth,butheaddedgently:
“Butyouaresureinyourownmind?”
EvenhereMissWaynfleteshowedalittlereluctance.
“Wearenottalkingatcross-purposes,Ihope?”shedemurred.
Lukesmiled.
“Youwouldlikemetoputitinplainwords?Verywell.YoudothinkthatAmyGibbswasmurdered?”
HonoriaWaynfleteflinchedalittleatthecrudityofthelanguage.Shesaid:
“Idon’tfeelatallhappyaboutherdeath.Notatallhappy.Thewholethingisprofoundlyunsatisfactoryinmyopinion.”
Lukesaidpatiently:
“Butyoudon’tthinkherdeathwasanaturalone?”
“No.”
“Youdon’tbelieveitwasanaccident?”
“Itseemstomemostimprobable.Therearesomany—”
Lukecuthershort.
“Youdon’tthinkitwassuicide?”
“Emphaticallynot.”
“Then,”saidLukegently,“youdothinkthatitwasmurder?”
MissWaynfletehesitated,gulped,andbravelytooktheplunge.
“Yes,”shesaid.“Ido!”
“Good.Nowwecangetonwiththings.”
“ButIhavereallynoevidenceonwhichtobasethatbelief,”MissWaynfleteexplainedanxiously.“Itisentirelyanidea!”
“Quiteso.Thisisaprivateconversation.Wearemerelyspeakingaboutwhatwethinkandsuspect.WesuspectAmyGibbswasmurdered.Whodowethinkmurderedher?”
MissWaynfleteshookherhead.Shewaslookingverytroubled.
Lukesaid,watchingher:
“Whohadreasontomurderher?”
MissWaynfletesaidslowly:
“Shehadhadaquarrel,Ibelieve,withheryoungmanatthegarage,JimHarvey—amoststeady,superioryoungman.Iknowonereadsinthepapersofyoungmenattackingtheirsweetheartsanddreadfulthingslikethat,butIreallycan’tbelievethatJimwoulddosuchathing.”
Lukenodded.
MissWaynfletewenton.
“Besides,Ican’tbelievethathewoulddoitthatway.Climbuptoherwindowandsubstituteabottleofpoisonfortheotheronewiththecoughmixture.Imean,thatdoesn’tseem—”
Lukecametotherescueasshehesitated.
“It’snottheactofanangrylover?Iagree.InmyopinionwecanwashJimHarveyrightout.Amywaskilled(we’reagreeingshewaskilled)bysomeonewhowantedtogetheroutofthewayandwhoplannedthecrimecarefullysothatitshouldappeartobeanaccident.Nowhaveyouanyidea—anyhunch—shallweputitlikethat?—whothatpersoncouldbe?”
MissWaynfletesaid:
“No—really—no,Ihaven’ttheleastidea!”
“Sure?”
“N-no—no,indeed.”
Lukelookedatherthoughtfully.Thedenial,hefelt,hadnotrungquitetrue.Hewenton:
“Youknowofnomotive?”
“Nomotivewhatever.”
Thatwasmoreemphatic.
“HadshebeeninmanyplacesinWychwood?”
“ShewaswiththeHortonsforayearbeforegoingtoLordWhitfield.”
Lukesummeduprapidly.
“It’slikethis,then.Somebodywantedthatgirloutoftheway.Fromthegivenfactsweassumethat—first—itwasamanandamanofmoderatelyold-fashionedoutlook(asshownbythehatpainttouch),andsecondlythatitmusthavebeenareasonablyathleticmansinceitisclearhemusthaveclimbedupovertheouthousetothegirl’swindow.Youagreeonthosepoints?”
“Absolutely,”saidMissWaynflete.
“DoyoumindifIgoroundandhaveatrymyself?”
“Notatall.Ithinkitisaverygoodidea.”
Sheledhimoutbyasidedoorandroundtothebackyard.Lukemanagedtoreachtheouthouseroofwithoutmuchtrouble.Fromtherehecouldeasilyraisethesashofthegirl’swindowandwithaslightefforthoisthimselfintotheroom.AfewminuteslaterherejoinedMissWaynfleteonthepathbelow,wipinghishandsonhishandkerchief.
“Actuallyit’seasierthanitlooks,”hesaid.“Youwantacertainamountofmuscle,that’sall.Therewerenosignsonthesilloroutside?”
MissWaynfleteshookherhead.
“Idon’tthinkso.Ofcoursetheconstableclimbedupthisway.”
“Sothatiftherewereanytracestheywouldbetakentobehis.Howthepoliceforceassiststhecriminal!Well,that’sthat!”
MissWaynfleteledthewaybacktothehouse.
“WasAmyGibbsaheavysleeper?”heasked.
MissWaynfleterepliedacidly:
“Itwasextremelydifficulttogetherupinthemorning.SometimesIwouldknockagainandagain,andcallouttoherbeforesheanswered.Butthen,youknow,Mr.Fitzwilliam,there’sasayingtherearenonesodeafasthosewhowillnothear!”
“That’strue,”acknowledgedLuke.“Well,now,MissWaynflete,wecometothequestionofmotive.Startingwiththemostobviousone,doyouthinktherewasanythingbetweenthatfellowEllsworthyandthegirl?”Headdedhastily,“ThisisjustyouropinionI’masking.Onlythat.”
“Ifit’samatterofopinion,Iwouldsayyes.”
Lukenodded.
“Inyouropinion,wouldthegirlAmyhavestuckataspotofblackmail?”
“Againasamatterofopinion,Ishouldsaythatthatwasquitepossible.”
“Doyouhappentoknowifshehadmuchmoneyinherpossessionatthetimeofherdeath?”
MissWaynfletereflected.
“Idonotthinkso.IfshehadhadanyunusualamountIthinkIshouldhaveheardaboutit.”
“Andshehadn’tlaunchedintoanyunusualextravagancebeforeshedied?”
“Idon’tthinkso.”
“Thatrathermilitatesagainsttheblackmailtheory.Thevictimusuallypaysoncebeforehedecidestoproceedtoextremes.There’sanothertheory.Thegirlmightknowsomething.”
“Whatkindofthing?”
“ShemighthaveknowledgethatwasdangeroustosomeonehereinWychwood.We’lltakeastrictlyhypotheticalcase.She’dbeeninserviceinagoodmanyhouseshere.Supposingshecametoknowofsomethingthatwoulddamagesay,someonelikeMr.Abbot,professionally.”
“Mr.Abbot?”
Lukesaidquickly:
“OrpossiblysomenegligenceorunprofessionalconductonthepartofDr.Thomas.”
MissWaynfletebegan,“Butsurely—”andthenstopped.
Lukewenton:
“AmyGibbswashousemaid,yousaid,intheHortons’houseatthetimewhenMrs.Hortondied.”
Therewasamoment’spause,thenMissWaynfletesaid:
“Willyoutellme,Mr.Fitzwilliam,whyyoubringtheHortonsintothis?Mrs.Hortondiedoverayearago.”
“Yes,andthegirlAmywasthereatthetime.”
“Isee.WhathavetheHortonstodowithit?”
“Idon’tknow.I—justwondered.Mrs.Hortondiedofacutegastritis,didn’tshe?”
“Yes.”
“Washerdeathatallunexpected?”
MissWaynfletesaidslowly:
“Itwastome.Yousee,shehadbeengettingmuchbetter—seemedwellontheroadtorecovery—andthenshehadasuddenrelapseanddied.”
“WasDr.Thomassurprised?”
“Idon’tknow.Ibelievehewas.”
“Andthenurses,whatdidtheysay?”
“Inmyexperience,”saidMissWaynflete,“hospitalnursesareneversurprisedatanycasetakingaturnfortheworse!Itisrecoverythatsurprisesthem.”
“Butherdeathsurprisedyou?”Lukepersisted.
“Yes.Ihadbeenwithheronlythedaybefore,andshehadseemedverymuchbetter,talkedandseemedquitecheerful.”
“Whatdidshethinkaboutherownillness?”
“Shecomplainedthatthenurseswerepoisoningher.Shehadhadonenursesentaway,butshesaidthesetwowerejustasbad!”
“Isupposeyoudidn’tpaymuchattentiontothat?”
“Well,no,Ithoughtitwasallpartoftheillness.Andshewasaverysuspiciouswomanand—itmaybeunkindtosayso—butshelikedtomakeherselfimportant.Nodoctoreverunderstoodhercase—anditwasneveranythingsimple—itmusteitherbesomeveryobscurediseaseorelsesomebodywas‘tryingtogetheroutoftheway.’”
Luketriedtomakehisvoicecasual.
“Shedidn’tsuspectherhusbandoftryingtodoherin?”
“Oh,no,thatideaneveroccurredtoher!”
MissWaynfletepausedaminute,thensheaskedquietly:
“Isthatwhatyouthink?”
Lukesaidslowly:
“Husbandshavedonethatbeforeandgotawaywithit.Mrs.Hortonfromallaccountswasawomananymanmighthavelongedtoberidof!AndIunderstandthathecameintoagooddealofmoneyonherdeath.”
“Yes,hedid.”
“Whatdoyouthink,MissWaynflete?”
“Youwantmyopinion?”
“Yes,justyouropinion.”
MissWaynfletesaidquietlyanddeliberately:
“Inmyopinion,MajorHortonwasquitedevotedtohiswifeandwouldneverhavedreamedofdoingsuchathing.”
Lukelookedatherandreceivedthemildamberglanceinreply.Itdidnotwaver.
“Well,”hesaid,“Iexpectyou’reright.You’dprobablyknowifitwastheotherwayround.”
MissWaynfletepermittedherselfasmile.
“Wewomenaregoodobservers,youthink?”
“Absolutelyfirstclass.WouldMissPinkertonhaveagreedwithyou,doyouthink?”
“Idon’tthinkIeverheardLaviniaexpressanopinion.”
“WhatdidshethinkaboutAmyGibbs?”
MissWaynfletefrownedalittleasthoughthinking.
“It’sdifficulttosay.Laviniahadaverycuriousidea.”
“Whatidea?”
“ShethoughtthattherewassomethingoddgoingonhereinWychwood.”
“Shethought,forinstance,thatsomebodypushedTommyPierceoutofthatwindow?”
MissWaynfletestaredathiminastonishment.
“Howdidyouknowthat,Mr.Fitzwilliam?”
“Shetoldmeso.Notinthesewords,butshegavemethegeneralidea.”
MissWaynfleteleantforward,pinkwithexcitement.
“Whenwasthis,Mr.Fitzwilliam?”
Lukesaidquietly,“Thedayshewaskilled.WetravelledtogethertoLondon.”
“Whatdidshetellyouexactly?”
“ShetoldmethattherehadbeentoomanydeathsinWychwood.ShementionedAmyGibbs,andTommyPierceandthatmanCarter.ShealsosaidthatDr.Humblebywouldbethenexttogo.”
MissWaynfletenoddedslowly.
“Didshetellyouwhowasresponsible?”
“Amanwithacertainlookinhiseyes,”saidLukegrimly.“Alookyoucouldn’tmistake,accordingtoher.She’dseenthatlookinhiseyewhenhewastalkingtoHumbleby.That’swhyshesaidHumblebywouldbethenexttogo.”
“Andhewas,”whisperedMissWaynflete.“Oh,dear.Oh,dear.”
Sheleanedback.Hereyeshadastrickenlookinthem.
“Whowastheman?”saidLuke.“Comenow,MissWaynflete,youknow,youmustknow!”
“Idon’t.Shedidn’ttellme.”
“Butyoucanguess,”saidLukekeenly.“You’veaveryshrewdideaofwhowasinhermind.”
ReluctantlyMissWaynfletebowedherhead.
“Thentellme.”
ButMissWaynfleteshookherheadenergetically.
“No,indeed.You’reaskingmetodosomethingthatishighlyimproper!You’reaskingmetoguessatwhatmay—onlymay,mindyou—havebeeninthemindofafriendwhoisnowdead.Icouldn’tmakeanaccusationofthatkind!”
“Itwouldn’tbeanaccusation—onlyanopinion.”
ButMissWaynfletewasunexpectedlyfirm.
“I’venothingtogoon—nothingwhatever,”shesaid.“Lavinianeveractuallysaidanythingtome.Imaythinkshehadacertainidea—butyouseeImightbeentirelywrong.AndthenIshouldhavemisledyouandperhapsseriousconsequencesmightensue.Itwouldbeverywickedandunfairofmetomentionaname.AndImaybequite,quitewrong!Infact,Iprobablyamwrong!”
AndMissWaynfletesetherlipsfirmlyandglaredatLukewithagrimdetermination.
Lukeknewhowtoacceptdefeatwhenhemetit.
HerealizedthatMissWaynflete’ssenseofrectitudeandsomethingelsemorenebulousthathecouldnotquiteplacewerebothagainsthim.
Heaccepteddefeatwithagoodgraceandrosetosaygood-bye.Hehadeveryintentionofreturningtothechargelater,butheallowednohintofthattoescapeintohismanner.
“Youmustdoasyouthinkright,ofcourse,”hesaid.“Thankyouforthehelpyouhavegivenme.”
MissWaynfleteseemedtobecomealittlelesssureofherselfassheaccompaniedhimtothedoor.
“Ihopeyoudon’tthink,”shebegan,thenchangedtheformofthesentence.“IfthereisanythingelseIcandotohelpyou,please,pleaseletmeknow.”
“Iwill.Youwon’trepeatthisconversation,willyou?”
“Ofcoursenot.Ishan’tsayawordtoanybody.”
Lukehopedthatthatwastrue.
“GivemylovetoBridget,”saidMissWaynflete.“She’ssuchahandsomegirl,isn’tshe?Andclevertoo.I—Ihopeshewillbehappy.”
AndasLukelookedaquestion,sheadded:
“MarriedtoLordWhitfield,Imean.Suchagreatdifferenceinage.”
“Yes,thereis.”
MissWaynfletesighed.
“YouknowthatIwasengagedtohimonce,”shesaidunexpectedly.
Lukestaredinastonishment.Shewasnoddingherheadandsmilingrathersadly
“Alongtimeago.Hewassuchapromisingboy.Ihadhelpedhim,youknow,toeducatehimself.AndIwassoproudofhis—hisspiritandthewayhewasdeterminedtosucceed.”
Shesighedagain.
“Mypeople,ofcourse,werescandalized.Classdistinctionsinthosedayswereverystrong.”Sheaddedafteraminuteortwo,“I’vealwaysfollowedhiscareerwithgreatinterest.Mypeople,Ithink,werewrong.”
Then,withasmile,shenoddedafarewellandwentbackintothehouse.
Luketriedtocollecthisthoughts.HehadplacedMissWaynfleteasdefinitely“old.”Herealizednowthatshewasprobablystillundersixty.LordWhitfieldmustbewelloverfifty.Shemight,perhaps,beayearortwoolderthanhe,nomore.
AndhewasgoingtomarryBridget.Bridget,whowastwenty-eight.Bridget,whowasyoungandalive….
“Oh,damn,”saidLuke.“Don’tletmegoonthinkingofit.Thejob.Getonwiththejob.”
Fourteen
MEDITATIONSOFLUKE
Mrs.Church,AmyGibbs’saunt,wasdefinitelyanunpleasantwoman.Hersharpnose,shiftyeyes,andhervolubletongueallalikefilledLukewithnausea.
Headoptedacurtmannerwithherandfounditunexpectedlysuccessful.
“Whatyou’vegottodo,”hetoldher,“istoanswermyquestionstothebestofyourability.Ifyouholdbackanythingortamperwiththetruththeconsequencesmaybeextremelyserioustoyou.”
“Yes,sir.Isee.I’msureI’monlytoowillingtotellyouanythingIcan.I’veneverbeenmixedupwiththepolice—”
“Andyoudon’twanttobe,”finishedLuke.“Well,ifyoudoasI’vetoldyoutherewon’tbeanyquestionofthat.Iwanttoknowallaboutyourlateniece—whoherfriendswere—whatmoneyshehad—anythingshesaidthatmightbeoutoftheway.We’llstartwithherfriends.Whowerethey?”
Mrs.Churchleeredathimslylyoutofthecornerofanunpleasanteye.
“You’llbemeaninggentlemen,sir?”
“Hadsheanygirlfriends?”
“Well—hardly—nottospeakof,sir.Ofcoursetherewasgirlsshe’dbeeninservicewith—butAmydidn’tkeepupwiththemmuch.Yousee—”
“Shepreferredthesternersex.Goon.Tellmeaboutthat.”
“ItwasJimHarveydownatthegarageshewasactuallygoingwith,sir.Andanicesteadyyoungfellowhewas.‘Youcouldn’tdobetter,’I’vesaidtohermanyatime—”
Lukecutin:
“Andtheothers?”
Againhegottheslylook.
“Iexpectyou’rethinkingofthegentlemanwhokeepsthecuriosityshop?Ididn’tlikeitmyself,andItellyouthatstraight,sir!I’vealwaysbeenrespectableandIdon’tholdwithcarryingon!Butwithwhatgirlsarenowadaysit’snousespeakingtothem.Theygotheirownway.Andoftentheylivetoregretit.”
“DidAmylivetoregretit?”askedLukebluntly.
“No,sir—thatIdonotthink.”
“ShewenttoconsultDr.Thomasonthedayofherdeath.Thatwasn’tthereason?”
“No,sir,I’mnearlysureitwasn’t.Oh!I’dtakemyoathonit!Amyhadbeenfeelingillandoutofsorts,butitwasjustabadcoughandcoldshehad.Itwasn’tanythingofthekindyousuggest,I’msureitwasn’t,sir.”
“I’lltakeyourwordforthat.HowfarhadmattersgonebetweenherandEllsworthy?”
Mrs.Churchleered.
“Icouldn’texactlysay,sir.Amywasn’toneforconfidinginme.”
Lukesaidcurtly:
“Butthey’dgoneprettyfar?”
Mrs.Churchsaidsmoothly:
“Thegentlemanhasn’tgotatallagoodreputationhere,sir.Allsortsofgoingson.Andfriendsdownfromtownandmanyveryqueerhappenings.UpintheWitches’Meadowinthemiddleofthenight.”
“DidAmygo?”
“Shedidgoonce,sir,Ibelieve.Stayedoutallnightandhislordshipfoundoutaboutit(shewasattheManorthen)andspoketoherprettysharp,andshesaucedhimbackandhegavehernoticeforit,whichwasonlytobeexpected.”
“Didsheevertalktoyoumuchaboutwhatwentonintheplacesshewasin?”
Mrs.Churchshookherhead.
“Notverymuch,sir.Moreinterestedinherowndoings,shewas.”
“ShewaswithMajorandMrs.Hortonforawhile,wasn’tshe?”
“Nearlyayear,sir.”
“Whydidsheleave?”
“Justtobetterherself.TherewasaplacegoingattheManor,andofcoursethewageswasbetterthere.”
Lukenodded.
“ShewaswiththeHortonsatthetimeofMrs.Horton’sdeath?”heasked.
“Yes,sir.Shegrumbledalotaboutthat—withtwohospitalnursesinthehouse,andalltheextraworknursesmake,andthetraysandonethingandanother.”
“Shewasn’twithMr.Abbot,thelawyer,atall?”
“No,sir.Mr.Abbothasamanandwifedoforhim.Amydidgotoseehimonceathisoffice,butIdon’tknowwhy.”
Lukestoredawaythatsmallfactaspossiblyrelevant.SinceMrs.Church,however,clearlyknewnothingmoreaboutit,hedidnotpursuethesubject.
“Anyothergentlemeninthetownwhowerefriendsofhers?”
“NothingthatI’dcaretorepeat.”
“Comenow,Mrs.Church.Iwantthetruth,remember.”
“Itwasn’tagentleman,sir,veryfarfromit.Demeaningherself,that’swhatitwas,andsoItoldher.”
“Doyoumindspeakingmoreplainly,Mrs.Church?”
“You’llhaveheardoftheSevenStars,sir?Notagood-classhouse,andthelandlord,HarryCarter,alow-classfellowandhalf-seasovermostofthetime.”
“Amywasafriendofhis?”
“Shewentawalkwithhimonceortwice.Idon’tbelievetherewasmoreinitthanthat.Idon’tindeed,sir.”
Lukenoddedthoughtfullyandchangedthesubject.
“Didyouknowasmallboy,TommyPierce?”
“What?Mrs.Pierce’sson?OfcourseIdid.Alwaysuptomischief.”
“HeeverseemuchofAmy?”
“Oh,no,sir.Amywouldsoonsendhimoffwithafleainhisearifhetriedanyofhistricksonher.”
“WasshehappyinherplacewithMissWaynflete?”
“Shefounditabitdull,sir,andthepaywasn’thigh.Butofcourseaftershe’dbeendismissedthewayshewasfromAsheManor,itwasn’tsoeasytogetanothergoodplace.”
“Shecouldhavegoneaway,Isuppose?”
“ToLondon,youmean?”
“Orsomeotherpartofthecountry?”
Mrs.Churchshookherhead.Shesaidslowly:
“Amydidn’twanttoleaveWychwood—notasthingswere.”
“Howdoyoumean,asthingswere?”
“WhatwithJimandthegentlemanatthecurioshop.”
Lukenoddedthoughtfully.Mrs.Churchwenton:
“MissWaynfleteisaverynicelady,butveryparticularaboutbrassandsilverandeverythingbeingdustedandthemattressesturned.Amywouldn’thaveputupwiththefussingifshehadn’tbeenenjoyingherselfinotherways.”
“Icanimaginethat,”saidLukedrily
Heturnedthingsoverinhismind.Hecouldseenofurtherquestionstoask.HewasfairlycertainthathehadextractedallthatMrs.Churchknew.Hedecidedononelasttentativeattack.
“Idaresayyoucanguessthereasonofallthesequestions.ThecircumstancesofAmy’sdeathwererathermysterious.We’renotentirelysatisfiedastoitsbeinganaccident.Ifnot,yourealizewhatitmusthavebeen.”
Mrs.Churchsaidwithacertainghoulishrelish:
“Foulplay!”
“Quiteso.Nowsupposingyourniecedidmeetwithfoulplay,whodoyouthinkislikelytoberesponsibleforherdeath?”
Mrs.Churchwipedherhandsonherapron.
“There’dbeareward,aslikelyasnot,forsettingthepoliceontherighttrack,”sheinquiredmeaningly.
“Theremightbe,”saidLuke.
“Iwouldn’tliketosayanythingdefinite.”Mrs.Churchpassedahungrytongueoverherthinlips.“Butthegentlemanatthecurioshopisaqueerone.You’llremembertheCastorcase,sir—andhowtheyfoundlittlebitsofthepoorgirlpinnedupalloverCastor’sseasidebungalowandhowtheyfoundfiveorsixotherpoorgirlshe’dservedthesameway.MaybethisMr.Ellsworthyisoneofthatkind?”
“That’syoursuggestion,isit?”
“Well,itmightbethatway,sir,mightn’tit?”
Lukeadmittedthatitmight.Thenhesaid:
“WasEllsworthyawayfromhereontheafternoonofDerbyDay?That’saveryimportantpoint.”
Mrs.Churchstared.
“DerbyDay?”
“Yes—afortnightagolastWednesday.”
Sheshookherhead.
“Really,Icouldn’tsayastothat.HeusuallywasawayonWednesdays—wentuptotownasoftenasnot.It’searlyclosingWednesday,yousee.”
“Oh,”saidLuke.“Earlyclosing.”
HetookhisleaveofMrs.Church,disregardingherinsinuationsthathertimehadbeenvaluableandthatshewasthereforeentitledtomonetarycompensation.HefoundhimselfdislikingMrs.Churchintensely.Neverthelesstheconversationhehadhadwithher,thoughnotstrikinglyilluminativeinanyway,hadprovidedseveralsuggestivesmallpoints
Hewentoverthingscarefullyinhismind.
Yes,itstillboileddowntothosefourpeople.Thomas,Abbot,HortonandEllsworthy.TheattitudeofMissWaynfleteseemedtohimtoprovethat.
Herdistressandreluctancetomentionaname.Surelythatmeant,thatmustmean,thatthepersoninquestionwassomeoneofstandinginWychwood,someonewhomachanceinsinuationmightdefinitelyinjure.Ittallied,too,withMissPinkerton’sdeterminationtotakehersuspicionstoheadquarters.Thelocalpolicewouldridiculehertheory.
Itwasnotacaseofthebutcher,thebaker,thecandlestick-maker.Itwasnotacaseofameregaragemechanic.Thepersoninquestionwasoneagainstwhomanaccusationofmurderwasafantasticand,moreover,aseriousmatter.
Therewerefourpossiblecandidates.Itwasuptohimtogocarefullyoncemoreintothecaseagainsteachoneandmakeuphisownmind.
FirsttoexaminethereluctanceofMissWaynflete.Shewasaconscientiousandscrupulousperson.ShebelievedthatsheknewthemanwhomMissPinkertonhadsuspected,butitwas,shepointedout,onlyabeliefonherpart.Itwaspossiblethatshewasmistaken.
WhowasthepersoninMissWaynflete’smind?
MissWaynfletewasdistressedlestanaccusationbyhermightinjureaninnocentman.Thereforetheobjectofhersuspicionsmustbeamanofhighstanding,generallylikedandrespectedbythecommunity.
Therefore,Lukeargued,thatautomaticallybarredoutEllsworthy.HewaspracticallyastrangertoWychwood,hislocalreputationwasbad,notgood.Lukedidnotbelievethat,ifEllsworthywasthepersoninMissWaynflete’smind,shewouldhavehadanyobjectiontomentioninghim.ThereforeasfarasMissWaynfletewasconcerned,washoutEllsworthy.
Nowastotheothers.LukebelievedthathecouldalsoeliminateMajorHorton.MissWaynfletehadrebuttedwithsomewarmththesuggestionthatHortonmighthavepoisonedhiswife.Ifshehadsuspectedhimoflatercrimes,shewouldhardlyhavebeensopositiveabouthisinnocenceofthedeathofMrs.Horton.
ThatleftDr.ThomasandMr.Abbot.Bothofthemfulfilledthenecessaryrequirements.Theyweremenofhighprofessionalstandingagainstwhomnowordofscandalhadeverbeenuttered.Theywere,onthewhole,bothpopularandwellliked,andwereknownasmenofintegrityandrectitude.
Lukeproceededtoanotheraspectofthematter.Couldhe,himself,eliminateEllsworthyandHorton?Immediatelyheshookhishead.Itwasnotsosimple.MissPinkertonhadknown—reallyknown—whothemanwas.Thatwasproved,inthefirstcasebyherowndeath,andinthesecondcase,bythedeathofDr.Humbleby.ButMissPinkertonhadneveractuallymentionedanametoHonoriaWaynflete.Therefore,thoughMissWaynfletethoughtsheknew,shemightquiteeasilybewrong.Weoftenknowwhatotherpeoplearethinking—butsometimeswefindoutthatwedidnotknowafterall—andhave,infact,madeanegregiousmistake!
Thereforethefourcandidateswerestillinthefield.MissPinkertonwasdeadandcouldgivenofurtherassistance.ItwasuptoLuketodowhathehaddonebefore,onthedayafterhecametoWychwood,weighuptheevidenceandconsidertheprobabilities.
HebeganwithEllsworthy.OnthefaceofitEllsworthywasthelikelieststarter.Hewasabnormalandhadpossiblyapervertedpersonality.Hemightquiteeasilybea“lustkiller.”
“Let’stakeitthisway,”saidLuketohimself.“Suspecteveryoneinturn.Ellsworthy,forinstance.Let’ssayhe’sthekiller!Forthemoment,let’stakeitquitedefinitelythatIknowthat.Nowwe’lltakethepossiblevictimsinchronologicalorder.First,Mrs.Horton.DifficulttoseewhatmotiveEllsworthycouldhavehadfordoingawaywithMrs.Horton.Buttherewasameans.Hortonspokeofsomequacknostrumthatshegotfromhimandtook.Somepoisonlikearseniccouldhavebeengiventhatway.Thequestionis—Why?
“Nowtheothers.AmyGibbs.WhydidEllsworthykillAmyGibbs?Theobviousreason—shewasbeinganuisance!Threatenedanactionforbreachofpromise,perhaps?Orhadsheassistedatamidnightorgy?Didshethreatentotalk?LordWhitfieldhasagooddealofinfluenceinWychwoodandLordWhitfield,accordingtoBridget,isaverymoralman.HemighthavetakenupthematteragainstEllsworthyifthelatterhadbeenuptoanythingparticularlyobscene.So—exitAmy.Not,Ithink,asadisticmurder.Themethodemployedisagainstthat.
“Who’snext—Carter?WhyCarter?Unlikelyhewouldknowaboutmidnightorgies(ordidAmytellhim?).Wastheprettydaughtermixedupinit?DidEllsworthystartmakinglovetoher?(MusthavealookatLucyCarter.)PerhapshewasjustabusivetoEllsworthy,andEllsworthyinhiscatlikefelineway,resentedit.Ifhe’dalreadycommittedoneortwomurdershewouldbegettingsufficientlycalloustocontemplateakillingforaveryslightreason.
“NowTommyPierce.WhydidEllsworthykillTommyPierce?Easy.Tommyhadassistedatamidnightritualofsomekind.Tommythreatenedtotalkaboutit.PerhapsTommywastalkingaboutit.ShutTommy’smouth.
“Dr.Humbleby.WhydidEllsworthykillDr.Humbleby?That’stheeasiestofthelot!Humblebywasadoctorandhe’dnoticedthatEllsworthy’smentalbalancewasnonetoogood.Probablywasgettingreadytodosomethingaboutit.SoHumblebywasdoomed.There’sastumblingblockthereinthemethod.HowdidEllsworthyensurethatHumblebyshoulddieofbloodpoisoning?OrdidHumblebydieofsomethingelse?Wasthepoisonedfingeracoincidence?
“Lastofall,MissPinkerton.Wednesday’searlyclosing.Ellsworthymighthavegoneuptotownthatday.Hasheacar,Iwonder?Neverseenhiminone,butthatprovesnothing.Heknewshe’dsuspectedhimandhewasgoingtotakenochancesofScotlandYardbelievingherstory.Perhapstheyalreadyknewsomethingabouthimthen?
“That’sthecaseagainstEllsworthy!Nowwhatisthereforhim?Well,foronething,he’scertainlynotthemanMissWaynfletethoughtMissPinkertonmeant.Foranother,hedoesn’tfit—quite—withmyownvagueimpression.WhenshewastalkingIgotapictureofaman—anditwasn’tamanlikeEllsworthy.Theimpressionshegavemewasofaverynormalman—outwardly,thatis—thekindofmannobodywouldsuspect.Ellsworthyisthekindofmanyouwouldsuspect.No,Igotmoretheimpressionofamanlike—Dr.Thomas.
“Thomas,now.WhataboutThomas?IwipedhimcleanoffthelistafterI’dhadachatwithhim.Niceunassumingfellow.Butthewholepointofthismurderer—unlessI’vegotthewholethingwrong—isthathewouldbeaniceunassumingfellow.Thelastpersonyou’dthinkeverwouldbeamurderer!Which,ofcourse,isexactlywhatonefeelsaboutThomas
“Nowthen,let’sgothroughitallagain.WhydidDr.ThomaskillAmyGibbs?Really,itseemsmostunlikelythathedid!Butshedidgotoseehimthatday,andhedidgiveherthatbottleofcoughmixture.Supposethatwasreallyoxalicacid.Thatwouldbeverysimpleandclever!Whowascalledin,Iwonder,whenshewasfoundpoisoned—HumblebyorThomas?IfitwasThomashemightjustcomealongwithanoldbottleofhatpaintinhispocket,putitdownunobtrusivelyonthetable—andtakeoffbothbottlestobeanalysedasboldasbrass!Somethinglikethat.Itcouldbedoneifyouwerecoolenough!
“TommyPierce?AgainIcan’tseealikelymotive.That’sthedifficultywithourDr.Thomas—motive.There’snotevenacrazymotive!SamewithCarter.WhyshouldDr.ThomaswanttodisposeofCarter?OnecanonlyassumethatAmy,TommyandthepublicanallknewsomethingaboutDr.Thomasthatitwasunhealthytoknow.Ah!SupposingnowthatthatsomethingwasthedeathofMrs.Horton.Dr.Thomasattendedher.Andshediedofaratherunexpectedrelapse.Hecouldhavemanagedthateasilyenough.AndAmyGibbs,remember,wasinthehouseatthetime.Shemighthaveseenorheardsomething.Thatwouldaccountforher.TommyPierce,wehaveitongoodauthority,wasaparticularlyinquisitivesmallboy.Hemayhavegotwisetosomething.Can’tgetCarterin.AmyGibbstoldhimsomething.Hemayhaverepeateditinhiscups,andThomasmayhavedecidedtosilencehimtoo.Allthis,ofcourse,ispureconjecture.Butwhatelsecanonedo?
“NowHumbleby.Ah!Atlastwecometoaperfectlyplausiblemurder.Adequatemotiveandidealmeans!IfDr.Thomascouldn’tgivehispartnerbloodpoisoning,noonecould!Hecouldreinfectthewoundeverytimehedressedit!Iwishtheearlierkillingswerealittlemoreplausible.
“MissPinkerton?She’smoredifficult,butthereisonedefinitefact.Dr.ThomaswasnotinWychwoodforatleastagoodpartoftheday.Hegaveoutthathewasattendingaconfinement.Thatmaybe.ButthefactremainsthathewasawayfromWychwoodinacar.
“Isthereanythingelse?Yes,justonething.ThelookhegavemewhenIwentawayfromthehousetheotherday.Superior,condescending,thesmileofamanwho’djustledmeupthegardenpathandknewit.”
Lukesighed,shookhisheadandwentonwithhisreasoning.
“Abbot?He’stherightkindofmantoo.Normal,well-to-do,respected,lastsortofman,etc.,etc.He’sconceited,too,andconfident.Murderersusuallyare!They’vegotoverweeningconceit!Alwaysthinkthey’llgetawaywithit.AmyGibbspaidhimavisitonce.Why?Whatdidshewanttoseehimfor?Togetlegaladvice?Why?Orwasitapersonalmatter?There’sthatmentionof“aletterfromalady”thatTommysaw.WasthatletterfromAmyGibbs?OrwasitaletterwrittenbyMrs.Horton—aletter,perhaps,thatAmyGibbshadgotholdof?WhatotherladycouldtherebewritingtoMr.Abbotonamattersoprivatethathelosescontrolwhentheofficeboyinadvertentlyseesit?WhatelsecanwethinkofreAmyGibbs?Thehatpaint?Yes,rightkindofold-fashionedtouch—menlikeAbbotareusuallywellbehindthetimeswherewomenareconcerned.Theold-worldstyleofphilanderer!TommyPierce?Obvious—onaccountoftheletter(really,itmusthavebeenaverydamningletter!).Carter?Well,therewastroubleaboutCarter’sdaughter.Abbotwasn’tgoingtohaveascandal—alow-downruffianlyhalf-witlikeCarterdaretothreatenhim!Hewhohadgotawaywithtwocleverkillings!AwaywithMr.Carter!Darknightandawell-directedpush.Really,thiskillingbusinessisalmosttooeasy.
“HaveIgottheAbbotmentality?Ithinkso.Nastylookinanoldlady’seye.She’sthinkingthingsabouthim…Then,rowwithHumbleby.OldHumblebydaringtosethimselfagainstAbbot,thecleversolicitorandmurderer.Theoldfool—helittleknowswhat’sinstoreforhim!He’sforit!Daringtobrowbeatme!
“Andthen—what?TurningtocatchLaviniaPinkerton’seyes.Andhisowneyesfalter—showaconsciousnessofguilt.Hewhowasboastingofbeingunsuspectedhasdefinitelyarousedsuspicion.MissPinkertonknowshissecret…Sheknowswhathehasdone…Yes,butshecan’thaveproof.Butsupposeshegoesaboutlookingforit…Supposeshetalks…Suppose…He’squiteashrewdjudgeofcharacter.Heguesseswhatshewillfinallydo.IfshegoeswiththistaleofherstoScotlandYardtheymaybelieveher—theymaystartmakinginquiries.Somethingprettydesperatehasgottobedone.HasAbbotgotacarordidhehireoneinLondon?Anyway,hewasawayfromhereonDerbyDay….”
AgainLukepaused.Hewassoenteringintothespiritofthethingthathefoundithardtomakeatransitionfromonesuspecttoanother.HehadtowaitaminutebeforehecouldforcehimselfintothemoodwherehecouldvisualizeMajorHortonasasuccessfulmurderer.
“Hortonmurderedhiswife.Let’sstartwiththat!Hehadampleprovocationandhegainedconsiderablybyherdeath.Inordertocarryitoffsuccessfullyhehadtomakeagoodshowofdevotion.He’shadtokeepthatup.Sometimes,shallwesay,heoverdoesitabit?
“Verygood,onemurdersuccessfullyaccomplished.Who’sthenext?AmyGibbs.Yes,perfectlycredible.Amywasinthehouse.Shemayhaveseensomething—themajoradministeringasoothingcupofbeefteaorgruel?Shemayn’thaverealizedthepointofwhatshesawtillsometimelater.Thehatpainttrickisthesortofthingthatwouldoccurtothemajorquitenaturally—averymasculinemanwithlittleknowledgeofwomen’sfripperies.
“AmyGibbsallsereneandaccountedfor.
“ThedrunkenCarter?Samesuggestionasbefore.Amytoldhimsomething.Anotherstraightforwardmurder.
“NowTommyPierce.We’vegottofallbackonhisinquisitivenature.IsupposetheletterinAbbot’sofficecouldn’thavebeenacomplaintfromMrs.Hortonthatherhusbandwastryingtopoisonher?That’sawildsuggestion,butitmightbeso.Anyway,themajorbecomesalivetothefactthatTommyisamenace,soTommyjoinsAmyandCarter.AllquitesimpleandstraightforwardandaccordingtoCocker.Easytokill?MyGod,yes.
“Butnowwecometosomethingrathermoredifficult.Humbleby!Motive?Veryobscure.HumblebywasattendingMrs.Hortonoriginally.Didhegetpuzzledbytheillness,anddidHortoninfluencehiswifetochangetotheyounger,moreunsuspiciousdoctor?Butifso,whatmadeHumblebyadangersolongafter?Difficult,that…Themannerofhisdeath,too.Apoisonedfinger.Doesn’tconnectupwiththemajor.
“MissPinkerton?That’sperfectlypossible.Hehasacar.Isawit.AndhewasawayfromWychwoodthatday,supposedlygonetotheDerby.Itmightbe—yesIsHortonacold-bloodedkiller?Ishe?Ishe?IwishIknew….”
Lukestaredaheadofhim.Hisbrowwaspuckeredwiththought.
“It’soneofthem…Idon’tthinkit’sEllsworthy—butitmightbe!He’sthemostobviousone!Thomasiswildlyunlikely—ifitweren’tforthemannerofHumbleby’sdeath.Thatbloodpoisoningdefinitelypointstoamedicalmurderer!ItcouldbeAbbot—there’snotasmuchevidenceagainsthimasagainsttheothers—butIcanseehiminthepart,somehow…Yes—hefitsastheothersdon’t.AnditcouldbeHorton!Bulliedbyhiswifeforyears,feelinghisinsignificance—yes,itcouldbe!ButMissWaynfletedoesn’tthinkitis,andshe’snofool—andsheknowstheplaceandthepeopleinit…
“Whichdoesshesuspect,AbbotorThomas?Itmustbeoneofthesetwo…IfItackledheroutright—‘Whichofthemisit?’—I’dgetitoutofherthen,perhaps.
“Buteventhenshemightbewrong.There’snowayofprovingherright—likeMissPinkertonprovedherself.Moreevidence—that’swhatIwant.Ifthereweretobeonemorecase—justonemore—thenI’dknow—”
Hestoppedhimselfwithastart.
“MyGod,”hesaidunderhisbreath.“WhatI’maskingforisanothermurder….”
Fifteen
IMPROPERCONDUCTOFACHAUFFEUR
InthebaroftheSevenStarsLukedrankhispintandfeltsomewhatembarrassed.Thestareofhalfadozenbucolicpairsofeyesfollowedhisleastmovement,andconversationhadcometoastandstilluponhisentrance.Lukeessayedafewcommentsofgeneralinterestsuchasthecrops,thestateoftheweather,andfootballcoupons,buttononedidhegetanyresponse.
Hewasreducedtogallantry.Thefine-lookinggirlbehindthecounterwithherblackhairandredcheeksherightlyjudgedtobeMissLucyCarter.
Hisadvanceswerereceivedinapleasantspirit.MissCarterdulygiggledandsaid,“Goonwithyou!I’msureyoudon’tthinknothingofthekind!That’stelling!”—andothersuchrejoinders.Buttheperformancewasclearlymechanical.
Luke,seeingnoadvantagetobegainedbyremaining,finishedhisbeeranddeparted.Hewalkedalongthepathtowheretheriverwasspannedbyafootbridge.Hewasstandinglookingatthiswhenaquaveringvoicebehindhimsaid:
“That’sit,mister,that’swhereoldHarrywentover.”
Luketurnedtoseeoneofhislatefellowdrinkers,onewhohadbeenparticularlyunresponsivetothetopicofcrops,weatherandcoupons.Hewasnowclearlyabouttoenjoyhimselfasaguidetothemacabre.
“Wentoverintothemudhedid,”saidtheancientlabourer.“Rightintothemudandstuckinitheaddownwards.”
“Oddheshouldhavefallenoffhere,”saidLuke.
“Heweredrunk,hewere,”saidtherusticindulgently.
“Yes,buthemusthavecomethiswaydrunkmanytimesbefore.”
“Mosteverynight,”saidtheother.“Alwaysinliquor,Harrywere.”
“Perhapssomeonepushedhimover,”saidLuke,makingthesuggestioninacasualfashion.
“Theymightof,”therusticagreed.“ButIdon’tknowwho’dgofortodothat,”headded.
“Hemighthavemadeafewenemies.Hewasfairlyabusivewhenhewasdrunk,wasn’the?”
“Hislanguagewasatreattohear!Didn’tmincehiswords,Harrydidn’t.Butnoonewouldgofortopushamanwhat’sdrunk.”
Lukedidnotcombatthisstatement.Itwasevidentlyregardedaswildlyunsportingforadvantagetobetakenofaman’sstateofintoxication.Therustichadsoundedquiteshockedattheidea.
“Well,”hesaidvaguely,“itwasasadbusiness.”
“Nonesosadforhismissus,”saidtheoldman.“ReckonherandLucyhaven’tnocalltobesadaboutit.”
“Theremaybeotherpeoplewhoaregladtohavehimoutoftheway.”
Theoldmanwasvagueaboutthat.
“Maybe,”hesaid.“Buthedidn’tmeannoharm,Harrydidn’t.”
OnthisepitaphforthelateMr.Carter,theyparted.
LukebenthisstepstowardstheoldHall.Thelibrarytransacteditsbusinessinthetwofrontrooms.LukepassedontothebackthroughadoorwhichwaslabelledMuseum.Therehemovedfromcasetocase,studyingthenotveryinspiringexhibits.SomeRomanpotteryandcoins.SomeSouthSeacuriosities,aMalayheaddress.VariousIndiangods“presentedbyMajorHorton,”togetherwithalargeandmalevolent-lookingBuddha,andacaseofdoubtful-lookingEgyptianbeads.
Lukewanderedoutagainintothehall.Therewasnooneabout.Hewentquietlyupthestairs.Therewasaroomwithmagazinesandpapersthere,andaroomfilledwithnonfictionbooks.
Lukewentastoreyhigher.Herewereroomsfilledwithwhathedesignatedtohimselfasjunk.Stuffedbirdsremovedfromthemuseumowingtothemothhavingattackedthem,stacksoftornmagazinesandaroomwhoseshelveswerecoveredwithout-of-dateworksoffictionandchildren’sbooks.
Lukeapproachedthewindow.HereitmusthavebeenthatTommyPricehadsat,possiblywhistlingandoccasionallyrubbingapaneofglassvigorouslywhenheheardanyonecoming.
Somebodyhadcomein.Tommyhadshownhiszeal—sittinghalfoutofthewindowandpolishingwithzest.Andthenthatsomebodyhadcomeuptohim,andwhiletalking,hadgivenasuddensharppush
Luketurnedaway.Hewalkeddownthestairsandstoodaminuteortwointhehall.Nobodyhadnoticedhimcomein.Nobodyhadseenhimgoupstairs.
“Anyonemighthavedoneit!”saidLuke.“Easiestthingintheworld.”
Heheardfootstepscomingfromthedirectionofthelibraryproper.Sincehewasaninnocentmanwithnoobjectiontobeingseen,hecouldremainwherehewas.Ifhehadnotwantedtobeseen,howeasyjusttostepbackinsidethedoorofthemuseumroom!
MissWaynfletecameoutfromthelibrary,alittlepileofbooksunderherarm.Shewaspullingonhergloves.Shelookedveryhappyandbusy.Whenshesawhimherfacelitupandsheexclaimed:
“Oh,Mr.Fitzwilliam,haveyoubeenlookingatthemuseum?I’mafraidthereisn’tverymuchthere,really.LordWhitfieldistalkingofgettingussomereallyinterestingexhibits.”
“Really?”
“Yes,somethingmodern,youknow,andup-to-date.LiketheyhaveattheScienceMuseuminLondon.Hesuggestsamodelaeroplaneandalocomotiveandsomechemicalthingstoo.”
“Thatwould,perhaps,brightenthingsup.”
“Yes,Idon’tthinkamuseumshoulddealsolelywiththepast,doyou?”
“Perhapsnot.”
“Thensomefoodexhibits,too—caloriesandvitamins—allthatsortofthing.LordWhitfieldissokeenontheGreaterFitnessCampaign.”
“Sohewassayingtheothernight.”
“It’sthethingatpresent,isn’tit?LordWhitfieldwastellingmehowhe’dbeentotheWellermanInstitute—andseensuchalotofgermsandculturesandbacteria—itquitemademeshiver.AndhetoldmeallaboutmosquitoesandsleepingsicknessandsomethingaboutaliverflukethatI’mafraidwasalittletoodifficultforme.”
“ItwasprobablytoodifficultforLordWhitfield,”saidLukecheerfully.“I’llbethegotitallwrong!You’vegotamuchclearerbrainthanhehas,MissWaynflete.”
MissWaynfletesaidsedately:
“That’sveryniceofyou,Mr.Fitzwilliam,butI’mafraidwomenareneverquitesuchdeepthinkersasmen.”
LukerepressedadesiretocriticizeadverselyLordWhitfield’sprocessesofthought.Insteadhesaid:
“IdidlookintothemuseumbutafterwardsIwentuptohavealookatthetopwindows.”
“YoumeanwhereTommy—”MissWaynfleteshivered.“It’sreallyveryhorrible.”
“Yes,it’snotanicethought.I’vespentaboutanhourwithMrs.Church—Amy’saunt—notanicewoman!”
“Notatall.”
“Ihadtotakeratherastronglinewithher,”saidLuke.“IfancyshethinksI’makindofsuperpoliceman.”
HestoppedashenotedasuddenchangeofexpressiononMissWaynflete’sface
“Oh,Mr.Fitzwilliam,doyouthinkthatwaswise?”
Lukesaid:
“Idon’treallyknow.Ithinkitwasinevitable.Thebookstorywaswearingthin—Ican’tgetmuchfurtheronthat.Ihadtoaskthekindofquestionsthatweredirectlytothepoint.”
MissWaynfleteshookherhead—thetroubledexpressionstillonherface.
“Inaplacelikethis,yousee—everythinggetsroundsofast.”
“Youmeanthateverybodywillsay‘theregoesthetec’asIwalkdownthestreet?Idon’tthinkthatreallymattersnow.Infact,Imaygetmorethatway.”
“Iwasn’tthinkingofthat.”MissWaynfletesoundedalittlebreathless.“WhatImeantwas—thathe’llknow.He’llrealizethatyou’reonhistrack.”
Lukesaidslowly:
“Isupposehewill.”
MissWaynfletesaid:
“Butdon’tyousee—that’shorriblydangerous.Horribly!”
“Youmean—”Lukegraspedherpointatlast,“youmeanthatthekillerwillhaveacrackatme?”
“Yes.”
“Funny,”saidLuke.“Ineverthoughtofthat!Ibelieveyou’reright,though.Well,thatmightbethebestthingthatcouldhappen.”
MissWaynfletesaidearnestly:
“Idon’tthinkyourealizethathe’s—he’saverycleverman.He’scautious,too!Andremember,he’sgotagreatdealofexperience—perhapsmorethanweknow.”
“Yes,”saidLukethoughtfully.“That’sprobablytrue.”
MissWaynfleteexclaimed:
“Oh,Idon’tlikeit!Really,Ifeelquitealarmed!”
Lukesaidgently:
“Youneedn’tworry.IshallbeverymuchonmyguardIcanassureyou.YouseeI’venarrowedthepossibilitiesdownprettyclosely.I’veanideaatanyratewhothekillermightbe….”
Shelookedupsharply.
Lukecameastepnearer.Heloweredhisvoicetoawhisper:
“MissWaynflete,ifIweretoaskyouwhichoftwomenyouconsideredthemostlikely—Dr.ThomasorMr.Abbot—whatwouldyousay?”
“Oh—”saidMissWaynflete.Herhandflewtoherbreast.Shesteppedback.HereyesmetLuke’sinanexpressionthatpuzzledhim.Theyshowedimpatienceandsomethingcloselyalliedtoitthathecouldnotquiteplace.
Shesaid:
“Ican’tsayanything—”
Sheturnedawayabruptlywithacurioussound—halfasigh,halfasob.
Lukeresignedhimself.
“Areyougoinghome?”heasked.
“No,IwasgoingtotakethesebookstoMrs.Humbleby.ThatliesonyourwaybacktotheManor.Wemightgopartofthewaytogether.”
“Thatwillbeverynice,”saidLuke.
Theywentdownthesteps,turnedtotheleftskirtingthevillagegreen.
Lukelookedbackatthestatelylinesofthehousetheyhadleft.
“Itmusthavebeenalovelyhouseinyourfather’sday,”hesaid.
MissWaynfletesighed.
“Yes,wewereallveryhappythere.Iamsothankfulithasn’tbeenpulleddown.Somanyoftheoldhousesaregoing.”
“Iknow.It’ssad.”
“Andreallythenewonesaren’tnearlyaswellbuilt.”
“Idoubtiftheywillstandthetestoftimeaswell.”
“Butofcourse,”saidMissWaynflete,“thenewonesareconvenient—solabour-saving,andnotsuchbigdraughtypassagestoscrub.”
Lukeassented.
WhentheyarrivedatthegateofDr.Humbleby’shouse,MissWaynfletehesitatedandsaid:
“Suchabeautifulevening.Ithink,ifyoudon’tmind,Iwillcomealittlefarther.Iamenjoyingtheair.”
Somewhatsurprised,Lukeexpressedpleasurepolitely.Itwashardlywhathewouldhavedescribedasabeautifulevening.Therewasastrongwindblowing,turningbacktheleavesviciouslyonthetrees.Astorm,hethought,mightcomeatanyminute.
MissWaynflete,however,clutchingherhatwithonehand,walkedbyhissidewitheveryappearanceofenjoyment,talkingasshewentinlittlegasps.
Itwasasomewhatlonelylanetheyweretaking,sincefromDr.Humbleby’shousetheshortestwaytoAsheManorwasnotbythemainroad,butbyasidelanewhichledtooneofthebackgatesoftheManorHouse.Thisgatewasnotofthesameornateironworkbuthadtwohandsomegatepillarssurmountedbytwovastpinkpineapples.Whypineapples,Lukehadbeenunabletodiscover!ButhegatheredthattoLordWhitfieldpineapplesspeltdistinctionandgoodtaste.
Astheyapproachedthegatethesoundofvoicesraisedinangercametothem.AmomentlatertheycameinsightofLordWhitfieldconfrontingayoungmaninchauffeur’suniform.
“You’refired,”LordWhitfieldwasshouting.“D’youhear?You’refired.”
“Ifyou’doverlookit,m’lord—justthisonce.”
“No,Iwon’toverlookit!Takingmycarout.Mycar—andwhat’smoreyou’vebeendrinking—yes,youhave,don’tdenyit!I’vemadeitcleartherearethreethingsIwon’thaveonmyestate—one’sdrunkenness,another’simmoralityandtheother’simpertinence.”
Thoughthemanwasnotactuallydrunk,hehadhadenoughtoloosenhistongue.Hismannerchanged.
“Youwon’thavethisandyouwon’thavethat,youoldbastard!Yourestate!Thinkwedon’tallknowyourfatherkeptaboot-shopdownhere?Makesuslaughourselvessick,itdoes,seeingyoustruttingaboutascockofthewalk!Whoareyou,I’dliketoknow?You’renobetterthanIam—that’swhatyouare.”
LordWhitfieldturnedpurple.
“Howdareyouspeaktomelikethat?Howdareyou?”
Theyoungmantookathreateningstepforward.
“Ifyouwasn’tsuchamiserablepotbelliedlittleswineI’dgiveyouasockonthejaw—yes,Iwould.”
LordWhitfieldhastilyretreatedastep,trippedoverarootandwentdowninasittingposition.
Lukehadcomeup.
“Getoutofhere,”hesaidroughlytothechauffeur.
Thelatterregainedsanity.Helookedfrightened.
“I’msorry,sir.Idon’tknowwhatcameoverme,I’msure.”
“Acoupleofglassestoomuch,Ishouldsay,”saidLuke.
HeassistedLordWhitfieldtohisfeet.
“I—Ibegyourpardon,m’lord,”stammeredtheman.
“You’llbesorryforthis,Rivers,”saidLordWhitfield.
Hisvoicetrembledwithintensefeeling
Themanhesitatedaminute,thenshambledawayslowly.
LordWhitfieldexploded:
“Colossalimpertinence!Tome.Speakingtomelikethat.Somethingveryseriouswillhappentothatman!Norespect—nopropersenseofhisstationinlife.WhenIthinkofwhatIdoforthesepeople—goodwages—everycomfort—apensionwhentheyretire.Theingratitude—thebaseingratitude….”
Hechokedwithexcitement,thenperceivedMissWaynfletewhowasstandingsilentlyby.
“Isthatyou,Honoria?I’mdeeplydistressedyoushouldhavewitnessedsuchadisgracefulscene.Thatman’slanguage—”
“I’mafraidhewasn’tquitehimself,LordWhitfield,”saidMissWaynfleteprimly.
“Hewasdrunk,that’swhathewas,drunk!”
“Justabitlitup,”saidLuke.
“Doyouknowwhathedid?”LordWhitfieldlookedfromonetotheotherofthem.“Tookoutmycar—mycar!ThoughtIshouldn’tbebacksosoon.BridgetdrovemeovertoLyneinthetwo-seater.Andthisfellowhadtheimpertinencetotakeagirl—LucyCarter,Ibelieve—outinmycar!”
MissWaynfletesaidgently:
“Amostimproperthingtodo.”
LordWhitfieldseemedalittlecomforted.
“Yes,wasn’tit?”
“ButI’msurehe’llregretit.”
“Ishallseethathedoes!”
“You’vedismissedhim,”MissWaynfletepointedout.
LordWhitfieldshookhishead.
“He’llcometoabadend,thatfellow.”
Hethrewbackhisshoulders.
“Comeuptothehouse,Honoria,andhaveaglassofsherry.”
“Thankyou,LordWhitfield,butImustgotoMrs.Humblebywiththesebooks.Goodnight,Mr.Fitzwilliam.You’llbequiteallrightnow.”
Shegavehimasmilingnodandwalkedbrisklyaway.ItwassomuchtheattitudeofanursewhodeliversachildatapartythatLukecaughthisbreathasasuddenideastruckhim.WasitpossiblethatMissWaynfletehadaccompaniedhimsolelyinordertoprotecthim?Theideaseemedludicrous,but—
LordWhitfield’svoiceinterruptedhismeditations.
“Verycapablewoman,HonoriaWaynflete.”
“Very,Ishouldthink.”
LordWhitfieldbegantowalktowardsthehouse.Hemovedratherstifflyandhishandwenttohisposteriorandrubbeditgingerly.
Suddenlyhechuckled.
“IwasengagedtoHonoriaonce—yearsago.Shewasanice-lookinggirl—notsoskinnyassheistoday.Seemsfunnytothinkofnow.Herpeoplewerethenobsofthisplace.”
“Yes?”
LordWhitfieldruminated:
“OldColonelWaynfletebossedtheshow.Onehadtocomeoutandtouchone’scapprettysharp.Oneoftheoldschoolhewas,andproudasLucifer.”
Hechuckledagain.
“ThefatwasinthefireallrightwhenHonoriaannouncedshewasgoingtomarryme!CalledherselfaRadical,shedid.Veryearnest.Wasallforabolishingclassdistinctions.Shewasaseriouskindofgirl.”
“Soherfamilybrokeuptheromance?”
LordWhitfieldrubbedhisnose.
“Well—notexactly.Matteroffactwehadabitofarowoversomething.Blinkingbirdshehad—oneofthosebeastlytwitteringcanaries—alwayshatedthem—badbusiness—wrungitsneck.Well—nogooddwellingonallthatnow.Let’sforgetit.”
Heshookhisshoulderslikeamanwhothrowsoffanunpleasantmemory.
Thenhesaid,ratherjerkily:
“Don’tthinkshe’severforgivenme.Well,perhapsit’sonlynatural….”
“Ithinkshe’sforgivenyouallright,”saidLuke.
LordWhitfieldbrightenedup.
“Doyou?Gladofthat.YouknowIrespectHonoria.Capablewomanandalady!Thatstillcountseveninthesedays.Sherunsthatlibrarybusinessverywell.”
Helookedupandhisvoicechanged.
“Hallo,”hesaid.“HerecomesBridget.”
Sixteen
THEPINEAPPLE
LukefeltatighteningofhismusclesasBridgetapproached.
Hehadhadnowordalonewithhersincethedayofthetennisparty.Bymutualconsenttheyhadavoidedeachother.Hestoleaglanceathernow.
Shelookedprovokinglycalm,coolandindifferent.
Shesaidlightly:
“Iwasbeginningtowonderwhatonearthhadbecomeofyou,Gordon?”
LordWhitfieldgrunted:
“Hadabitofadustup!ThatfellowRivershadtheimpertinencetotaketheRollsoutthisafternoon.”
“Lèse-majesté,”saidBridget.
“It’snogoodmakingajokeoutofit,Bridget.Thething’sserious.Hetookagirlout.”
“Idon’tsupposeitwouldhavegivenhimanypleasuretogosolemnlyforadrivebyhimself!”
LordWhitfielddrewhimselfup.
“OnmyestateI’llhavedecentmoralbehaviour.”
“Itisn’tactuallyimmoraltotakeagirljoyriding.”
“Itiswhenit’smycar.”
“That,ofcourse,isworsethanimmorality!Itpracticallyamountstoblasphemy.Butyoucan’tcutoutthesexstuffaltogether,Gordon.Themoonisatthefullandit’sactuallyMidsummerEve.”
“Isit,byJove?”saidLuke.
Bridgetthrewhimaglance.
“Thatseemstointerestyou?”
“Itdoes.”
BridgetturnedbacktoLordWhitfield.
“ThreeextraordinarypeoplehavearrivedattheBellsandMotley.Itemone,amanwithshorts,spectaclesandalovelyplum-colouredsilkshirt!Itemtwo,afemalewithnoeyebrows,dressedinapeplum,apoundofassortedshamEgyptianbeadsandsandals.Itemthree,afatmaninalavendersuitandco-respondentshoes.IsuspectthemofbeingfriendsofourMr.Ellsworthy!Saysthegossipwriter:‘SomeonehaswhisperedthattherewillbegaydoingsintheWitches’Meadowtonight.’”
LordWhitfieldturnedpurpleandsaid:
“Iwon’thaveit!”
“Youcan’thelpit,darling.TheWitches’Meadowispublicproperty.”
“Iwon’thavethisirreligiousmumbojumbogoingondownhere!I’llexposeitinScandals.”Hepaused,thensaid,“RemindmetomakeanoteaboutthatandgetSiddelyontoit.Imustgouptotowntomorrow.”
“LordWhitfield’scampaignagainstwitchcraft,”saidBridgetflippantly.“Medievalsuperstitionsstillrifeinquietcountryvillage.”
LordWhitfieldstaredatherwithapuzzledfrown,thenheturnedandwentintothehouse.
Lukesaidpleasantly:
“Youmustdoyourstuffbetterthanthat,Bridget!”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Itwouldbeapityifyoulostyourjob!Thathundredthousandisn’tyoursyet.Norarethediamondsandpearls.IshouldwaituntilafterthemarriageceremonytoexerciseyoursarcasticgiftsifIwereyou.”
Herglancemethiscoolly.
“Youaresothoughtful,dearLuke.It’skindofyoutotakemyfuturesomuchtoheart!”
“Kindnessandconsiderationhavealwaysbeenmystrongpoints.”
“Ihadn’tnoticedit.”
“No?Yousurpriseme.”
Bridgettwitchedtheleafoffacreeper.Shesaid:
“Whathaveyoubeendoingtoday?”
“Theusualspotofsleuthing.”
“Anyresults?”
“Yesandno,asthepoliticianssay.Bytheway,haveyougotanytoolsinthehouse?”
“Iexpectso.Whatkindoftools?”
“Oh,anyhandylittlegadgets.PerhapsIcouldinspectsome.”
TenminuteslaterLukehadmadeaselectionfromacupboardshelf.
“Thatlittlelotwilldonicely,”hesaid,slappingthepocketinwhichhehadstowedthemaway.
“Areyouthinkingofdoingaspotofforcingandentering?”
“Maybe.”
“You’reveryuncommunicativeonthesubject.”
“Well,afterall,thesituationbristleswithdifficulties.I’minthehellofaposition.AfterourlittleknockuponSaturdayIsupposeIoughttoclearoutofhere.”
“Tobehaveasaperfectgentleman,youshould.”
“ButsinceI’mconvincedthatIamprettyhotonthetrailofahomicidalmaniac,I’mmoreorlessforcedtoremain.IfyoucouldthinkofanyconvincingreasonformetoleavehereandtakeupmyquartersattheBellsandMotley,forgoodness’saketrotitout.”
Bridgetshookherhead.
“That’snotfeasible—youbeingacousinandallthat.Besides,theinnisfullofMr.Ellsworthy’sfriends.Theyonlyruntothreeguestrooms.”
“SoIamforcedtoremain,painfulasitmustbeforyou.”
Bridgetsmiledsweetlyathim.
“Notatall.Icanalwaysdowithafewscalpstodangle.”
“That,”saidLukeappreciatively,“wasaparticularlydirtycrack.WhatIadmireaboutyou,Bridget,isthatyouhavepracticallynoinstinctsofkindness.Well,well.Therejectedloverwillnowgoandchangefordinner.”
Theeveningpasseduneventfully.LukewonLordWhitfield’sapprovalevenmoredeeplythanbeforebytheapparentabsorbedinterestwithwhichhelistenedtotheother’snightlydiscourse.
WhentheycameintothedrawingroomBridgetsaid:
“Youmenhavebeenalongtime.”
Lukereplied:
“LordWhitfieldwasbeingsointerestingthatthetimepassedlikeaflash.Hewastellingmehowhefoundedhisfirstnewspaper.”
Mrs.Anstruthersaid:
“Thesenewlittlefruitingtreesinpotsareperfectlymarvellous,Ibelieve.Yououghttotrythemalongtheterrace,Gordon.”
Theconversationthenproceededonnormallines.
Lukeretiredearly.
Hedidnot,however,gotobed.Hehadotherplans.
Itwasjuststrikingtwelvewhenhedescendedthestairsnoiselesslyintennisshoes,passedthroughthelibraryandlethimselfoutbyawindow.
Thewindwasstillblowinginviolentgustsinterspersedwithbrieflulls.Cloudsscuddedacrossthesky,obliteratingthemoonsothatdarknessalternatedwithbrightmoonlight.
LukemadehiswaybyacircuitousroutetoMr.Ellsworthy’sestablishment.Hesawhiswaycleartodoingalittleinvestigation.HewasfairlycertainthatEllsworthyandhisfriendswouldbeouttogetheronthisparticulardate.MidsummerEve,Lukethought,wassuretobemarkedbysomeceremonyorother.Whilstthiswasinprogress,itwouldbeagoodopportunitytosearchMr.Ellsworthy’shouse.
Heclimbedacoupleofwalls,gotroundtothebackofthehouse,tooktheassortedtoolsfromhispocketandselectedalikelyimplement.Hefoundascullerywindowamenabletohisefforts.Afewminuteslaterhehadslippedbackthecatch,raisedthesashandhoistedhimselfover.
Hehadatorchinhispocket.Heuseditsparingly—abriefflashtoshowhimhiswayandtoavoidrunningintothings.
Inaquarterofanhourhehadsatisfiedhimselfthatthehousewasempty.Theownerwasoutandabroadonhisownaffairs.
Lukesmiledwithsatisfactionandsettleddowntohistask.
Hemadeaminuteandthoroughsearchofeveryavailablenookandcorner.Inalockeddrawer,belowtwoorthreeinnocuouswater-coloursketches,hecameuponsomeartisticeffortswhichcausedhimtolifthiseyebrowsandwhistle.Mr.Ellsworthy’scorrespondencewasunilluminating,butsomeofhisbooks—thosetuckedawayatthebackofacupboard—repaidattention.
Besidesthese,Lukeaccumulatedthreemeagrebutsuggestivescrapsofinformation.Thefirstwasapencilscrawlinalittlenotebook.“SettlewithTommyPierce”—thedatebeingacoupleofdaysbeforetheboy’sdeath.ThesecondwasacrayonsketchofAmyGibbswithafuriousredcrossrightacrosstheface.Thethirdwasabottleofcoughmixture.Noneofthesethingswereinanywayconclusive,buttakentogethertheymightbeconsideredasencouraging.
Lukewasjustrestoringsomefinalorder,replacingthingsintheirplace,whenhesuddenlystiffenedandswitchedoffhistorch.
Hehadheardthekeyinsertedinthelockofasidedoor.
Hesteppedacrosstothedooroftheroomhewasin,andappliedaneyetoacrack.HehopedEllsworthy,ifitwashe,wouldgostraightupstairs.
ThesidedooropenedandEllsworthysteppedin,switchingonahalllightashedidso.
Ashepassedalongthehall,Lukesawhisfaceandcaughthisbreath.
Itwasunrecognizable.Therewasfoamonthelips,theeyeswerealightwithastrangemadexultationasheprancedalongthehallinlittledancingsteps.
ButwhatcausedLuketocatchhisbreathwasthesightofEllsworthy’shands.Theywerestainedadeepbrownishred—thecolourofdriedblood….
Hedisappearedupthestairs.Amomentlaterthelightinthehallwasextinguished.
Lukewaitedalittlelonger,thenverycautiouslyhecreptoutofthehall,madehiswaytothesculleryandleftbythewindow.Helookedupatthehouse,butitwasdarkandsilent.
Hedrewadeepbreath.
“MyGod,”hesaid,“thefellow’smadallright!Iwonderwhathe’supto?I’llswearthatwasbloodonhishands!”
HemadeadetourroundthevillageandreturnedtoAsheManorbyaroundaboutroute.Itwasashewasturningintothesidelanethatasuddenrustleofleavesmadehimswinground.
“Who’sthere?”
Atallfigurewrappedinadarkcloakcameoutfromtheshadowofatree.ItlookedsoeeriethatLukefelthisheartmissabeat.Thenherecognizedthelongpalefaceunderthehood.
“Bridget?Howyoustartledme!”
Shesaidsharply:
“Wherehaveyoubeen?Isawyougoout.”
“Andyoufollowedme?”
“No.You’dgonetoofar.I’vebeenwaitingtillyoucameback.”
“Thatwasadamnedsillythingtodo,”Lukegrumbled.
Sherepeatedherquestionimpatiently.
“Wherehaveyoubeen?”
Lukesaidgaily:
“RaidingourMr.Ellsworthy!”
Bridgetcaughtherbreath.
“Didyou—findanything?”
“Idon’tknow.Iknowabitmoreabouttheswine—hispornographicaltastesandallthat,andtherearethreethingsthatmightbesuggestive.”
Shelistenedattentivelyasherecountedtheresultofhissearch.
“It’sveryslightevidence,though,”heended.“But,Bridget,justasIwasleavingEllsworthycameback.AndItellyouthis—theman’sasmadasahatter!”
“Youreallythinkso?”
“Isawhisface—itwas—unspeakable!Godknowswhathe’dbeenupto!Hewasinadeliriumofmadexcitement.Andhishandswerestained.I’llswearwithblood.”
Bridgetshivered.
“Horrible…”shemurmured.
Lukesaidirritably:
“Youshouldn’thavecomeoutbyyourself,Bridget.Itwasabsolutemadness.Somebodymighthaveknockedyouonthehead.”
Shelaughedshakily.
“Thesameappliestoyou,mydear.”
“Icanlookaftermyself.”
“I’mprettygoodattakingcareofmyself,too.Hard-boiled,Ishouldthinkyou’dcallme.”
Asharpgustofwindcame.Lukesaidsuddenly:
“Takeoffthathoodthing.”
“Why?”
Withanunexpectedmovementhesnatchedathercloakandwhippeditaway.Thewindcaughtherhairandblewitoutstraightupfromherhead.Shestaredathim,herbreathcomingfast.
Lukesaid:
“Youcertainlyareincompletewithoutabroomstick,Bridget.That’showIsawyoufirst.”Hestaredaminutelongerandsaid,“You’reacrueldevil.”
Withasharpimpatientsighhetossedthecloakbacktoher.
“There—putiton.Let’sgethome.”
“Wait….”
“Why?”
Shecameuptohim.Shespokeinalow,ratherbreathlessvoice.
“BecauseI’vegotsomethingtosaytoyou—that’spartlywhyIwaitedforyouhere—outsidetheManor.Iwanttosayittoyounow—beforewegoinside—intoGordon’sproperty….”
“Well?”
Shegaveashort,ratherbitterlaugh.
“Oh,it’squitesimple.Youwin,Luke.That’sall!”
Hesaidsharply:
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“ImeanthatI’vegivenuptheideaofbeingLadyWhitfield.”
Hetookastepnearer.
“Isthattrue?”hedemanded.
“Yes,Luke.”
“You’llmarryme?”
“Yes.”
“Why,Iwonder?”
“Idon’tknow.Yousaysuchbeastlythingstome—andIseemtolikeit….”
Hetookherinhisarmsandkissedher.Hesaid:
“It’samadworld!”
“Areyouhappy,Luke?”
“Notparticularly.”
“Doyouthinkyou’lleverbehappywithme?”
“Idon’tknow.I’llriskit.”
“Yes—that’swhatIfeel….”
Heslippedhisarmthroughhers.
“We’reratherqueeraboutallthis,mysweet.Comealong.Perhapsweshallbemorenormalinthemorning.”
“Yes—it’sratherfrighteningthewaythingshappentoone…”Shelookeddownandtuggedhimtoastandstill.“Luke—Luke—what’sthat…?”
Themoonhadcomeoutfromtheclouds.LukelookeddowntowhereBridget’sshoetrembledbyahuddledmass.
Withastartledexclamationhedraggedhisarmfreeandkneltdown.Helookedfromtheshapelessheaptothegatepostabove.Thepineapplewasgone.
Hestoodupatlast.Bridgetwasstanding,herhandspressedtogetheronhermouth.
Hesaid:
“It’sthechauffeur—Rivers.He’sdead….”
“Thatbeastlystonething—it’sbeenlooseforsometime—Isupposeitblewdownonhim?”
Lukeshookhishead.
“Thewindwouldn’tdoathinglikethat.Oh!that’swhatit’smeanttolooklike—that’swhatit’smeanttobe—anotheraccident!Butit’safake.It’sthekilleragain….”
“No—no,Luke—”
“Itellyouitis.DoyouknowwhatIfeltonthebackofhishead—inwiththestickinessandmess—grainsofsand.There’snosandabouthere.Itellyou,Bridget,somebodystoodhereandsluggedhimashecamethroughthegatebacktohiscottage.Thenlaidhimdownandrolledthatpineapplethingdownontopofhim.”
Bridgetsaidfaintly:
“Luke—there’sblood—onyourhands….”
Lukesaidgrimly:
“Therewasbloodonsomeoneelse’shands.DoyouknowwhatIwasthinkingthisafternoon—thatifthereweretobeonemorecrimewe’dsurelyknow.Andwedoknow!Ellsworthy!Hewasouttonightandhecameinwithbloodonhishandscaperingandprancingandmad—drunkwiththehomicidalmaniac’sexpression….”
Lookingdown,Bridgetshiveredandsaidinalowvoice:“PoorRivers….”
Lukesaidpityingly:
“Yes,poorfellow.It’sdamnablebadluck.Butthiswillbethelast,Bridget!Nowweknow,we’llgethim!”
Hesawherswayandintwostepshehadcaughtherinhisarms.
Shesaidinasmallchildlikevoice:
“Luke,I’mfrightened….”
Hesaid,“It’sallover,darling.It’sallover….”
Shemurmured:
“Bekindtome—please.I’vebeenhurtsomuch.”
Hesaid:“We’vehurteachother.Wewon’tdothatanymore.”
Seventeen
LORDWHITFIELDTALKS
Dr.ThomasstaredacrosshisconsultingroomdeskatLuke.
“Remarkable,”hesaid.“Remarkable!Youarereallyserious,Mr.Fitzwilliam?”
“Absolutely.IamconvincedthatEllsworthyisadangerousmaniac.”
“Ihavenotpaidspecialattentiontotheman.Ishouldsay,though,thatheispossiblyanabnormaltype.”
“I’dgoagooddealfurtherthanthat,”saidLukegrimly.
“YouseriouslybelievethatthismanRiverswasmurdered?”
“Ido.Younoticedthegrainsofsandinthewound?”
Dr.Thomasnodded.
“Ilookedoutforthemafteryourstatement.Iamboundtosaythatyouwerecorrect.”
“Thatmakesitclear,doesitnot,thattheaccidentwasfakedandthatthemanwaskilledbyablowfromasandbag—oratanyratewasstunnedbyone.”
“Notnecessarily.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
Dr.Thomasleanedbackandjoinedhisfingertipstogether.
“SupposingthatthismanRivershadbeenlyingoutinasand-pitduringtheday—thereareseveralaboutinthispartoftheworld.Thatmightaccountforgrainsofsandinthehair.”
“Man,Itellyouhewasmurdered!”
“Youmaytellmeso,”saidDr.Thomasdrily,“butthatdoesn’tmakeitafact.”
Lukecontrolledhisexasperation.
“Isupposeyoudon’tbelieveawordofwhatI’mtellingyou.”
Dr.Thomassmiled,akindlysuperiorsmile.
“Youmustadmit,Mr.Fitzwilliam,thatit’sratherawildstory.YouassertthatthismanEllsworthyhaskilledaservantgirl,asmallboy,adrunkenpublican,myownpartnerandfinallythismanRivers.”
“Youdon’tbelieveit?”
Dr.Thomasshruggedhisshoulders.
“IhavesomeknowledgeofHumbleby’scase.ItseemstomequiteoutofthequestionthatEllsworthycouldhavecausedhisdeath,andIreallycannotseethatyouhaveanyevidenceatallthathedidso.”
“Idon’tknowhowhemanagedit,”confessedLuke,“butitallhangstogetherwithMissPinkerton’sstory.”
“ThereagainyouassertthatEllsworthyfollowedheruptoLondonandranherdowninacar.Againyouhaven’tashadowofproofthathappened!It’sall—well—romancing!”
Lukesaidsharply:
“NowthatIknowwhereIamitwillbemybusinesstogetproofs.I’mgoinguptoLondontomorrowtoseeanoldpalofmine.Isawinthepapertwodaysagothathe’dbeenmadeAssistantCommissionerofPolice.Heknowsmeandhe’lllistentowhatIhavetosay.OnethingI’msureof,he’llorderathoroughinvestigationofthewholebusiness.”
Dr.Thomasstrokedhischinthoughtfully.
“Well—nodoubtthatshouldbeverysatisfactory.Ifitturnsoutthatyou’remistaken—”
Lukeinterruptedhim.
“Youdefinitelydon’tbelieveawordofallthis?”
“Inwholesalemurder?”Dr.Thomasraisedhiseyebrows.“Quitefrankly,Mr.Fitzwilliam,Idon’t.Thethingistoofantastic.”
“Fantastic,perhaps.Butithangstogether.You’vegottoadmitithangstogether.OnceyouacceptMissPinkerton’sstoryastrue.”
Dr.Thomaswasshakinghishead.Aslightsmilecametohislips.“IfyouknewsomeoftheseoldmaidsaswellasIdo,”hemurmured.
Lukerose,tryingtocontrolhisannoyance.
“Atanyrate,you’rewellnamed,”hesaid.“AdoubtingThomas,ifthereeverwasone!”
Thomasrepliedgood-humouredly:
“Givemeafewproofs,mydearfellow.That’sallIask.Notjustalongmelodramaticrigmarolebasedonwhatanoldladyfanciedshesaw.”
“Whatoldladiesfancytheyseeisveryoftenright.MyAuntMildredwaspositivelyuncanny!Haveyougotanyauntsyourself,Thomas?”
“Well—er—no.”
“Amistake!”saidLuke.“Everymanshouldhaveaunts.Theyillustratethetriumphofguessworkoverlogic.ItisreservedforauntstoknowthatMr.A.isaroguebecausehelookslikeadishonestbutlertheyoncehad.OtherpeoplesayreasonablyenoughthatarespectablemanlikeMr.A.couldn’tbeacrook.Theoldladiesarerighteverytime.”
Dr.Thomassmiledhissuperiorsmileagain.
Lukesaid,hisexasperationmountingoncemore:
“Don’tyourealizethatI’mapolicemanmyself?I’mnotthecompleteamateur.”
Dr.Thomassmiledandmurmured:
“IntheMayangStraits!”
“CrimeiscrimeevenintheMayangStraits.”
“Ofcourse—ofcourse.”
LukeleftDr.Thomas’ssurgeryinastateofsuppressedirritation.
HejoinedBridget,whosaid:
“Well,howdidyougeton?”
“Hedidn’tbelieveme,”saidLuke.“Which,whenyoucometothinkofit,ishardlysurprising.It’sawildstorywithnoproofs.Dr.Thomasisemphaticallynotthesortofmanwhobelievessiximpossiblethingsbeforebreakfast!”
“Willanybodybelieveyou?”
“Probablynot,butwhenIgetholdofoldBillyBonestomorrow,thewheelswillstartturning.They’llcheckuponourlong-hairedfriend,Ellsworthy,andintheendthey’reboundtogetsomewhere.”
Bridgetsaidthoughtfully:
“We’recomingoutintotheopenverymuch,aren’twe?”
“We’vegotto.Wecan’t—wesimplycan’taffordanymoremurders.”
Bridgetshivered.
“ForGod’ssakebecareful,Luke.”
“I’mbeingcarefulallright.Don’twalkneargateswithpineapplesonthem,avoidthelonelywoodatnightfall,watchoutforyourfoodanddrink.Iknowalltheropes.”
“It’shorriblefeelingyou’reamarkedman.”
“Solongasyou’renotamarkedwoman,mysweet.”
“PerhapsIam.”
“Idon’tthinkso.ButIdon’tintendtotakerisks!I’mwatchingoveryoulikeanold-fashionedguardianangel.”
“Isitanygoodsayinganythingtothepolicehere?”
Lukeconsidered.
“No,Idon’tthinkitis—bettergostraighttoScotlandYard.”
Bridgetmurmured:
“That’swhatMissPinkertonthought.”
“Yes,butIshallbewatchingoutfortrouble.”
Bridgetsaid:
“IknowwhatI’mgoingtodotomorrow.IshallmarchGordondowntothatbrute’sshopandmakehimbuythings.”
“TherebyensuringthatourMr.EllsworthyisnotlyinginambushformeonthestepsofWhitehall?”
“That’stheidea.”
Lukesaidwithsomeslightembarrassment:“AboutWhitfield—”
Bridgetsaidquickly:
“Let’sleaveittillyoucomebacktomorrow.Thenwe’llhaveitout.”
“Willhebeverycutup,doyouthink?”
“Well—”Bridgetconsideredthequestion.“He’llbeannoyed.”
“Annoyed?Yegods!Isn’tthatputtingitabitmildly?”
“No.BecauseyouseeGordondoesn’tlikebeingannoyed!Itupsetshim!”
Lukesaidsoberly,“Ifeelratheruncomfortableaboutitall.”
ThatfeelingwasuppermostinhismindwhenhepreparedthateveningtolistenforthetwentiethtimetoLordWhitfieldonthesubjectofLordWhitfield.Itwas,headmitted,acad’stricktostayinaman’shouseandstealhisfiancée.Hestillfelt,however,thatapotbellied,pompous,struttinglittlenincompooplikeLordWhitfieldoughtnevertohaveaspiredtoBridgetatall!
Buthisconsciencesofarchastenedhimthathelistenedwithanextradoseofferventattentionandinconsequencemadeathoroughlyfavourableimpressiononhishost.
LordWhitfieldwasinhighgoodhumourthisevening.Thedeathofhiserstwhilechauffeurseemedtohaveexhilaratedratherthandepressedhim.
“Toldyouthatfellowwouldcometoabadend,”hecrowed,holdingupaglassofporttothelightandsquintingthroughit.“Didn’tItellyousoyesterdayevening?”
“Youdid,indeed,sir.”
“AndyouseeIwasright!It’samazinghowoftenI’mright!”
“Thatmustbesplendidforyou,”saidLuke.
“I’vehadawonderfullife—yes,awonderfullife!Mypath’sbeensmoothedclearbeforeme.I’vealwayshadgreatfaithandtrustinProvidence.That’sthesecret,Fitzwilliam,that’sthesecret.”
“Yes?”
“I’mareligiousman.Ibelieveingoodandevilandeternaljustice.Thereissuchathingasdivinejustice,Fitzwilliam,notadoubtofit!”
“Ibelieveinjustice,too,”saidLuke.
LordWhitfield,asusual,wasnotinterestedinthebeliefsofotherpeople.
“DorightbyyourCreatorandyourCreatorwilldorightbyyou!I’vealwaysbeenanuprightman.I’vesubscribedtocharity,andI’vemademymoneyhonestly.I’mnotbeholdentoanyman!Istandalone.YourememberintheBiblehowthepatriarchsbecameprosperous,herdsandflockswereaddedtothem,andtheirenemiesweresmittendown!”
Lukestifledayawnandsaid:
“Quite—quite.”
“It’sremarkable—absolutelyremarkable,”saidLordWhitfield.“Thewaythatarighteousman’senemiesarestruckdown!Lookatyesterday.Thatfellowabusesme—evengoessofarastotrytoraisehishandagainstme.Andwhathappens?Whereishetoday?”
Hepausedrhetoricallyandthenansweredhimselfinanimpressivevoice:
“Dead!Struckdownbydivinewrath!”
Openinghiseyesalittle,Lukesaid:
“Ratheranexcessivepunishment,perhaps,forafewhastywordsutteredafteraglasstoomuch.”
LordWhitfieldshookhishead.
“It’salwayslikethat!Retributioncomesswiftlyandterribly.Andthere’sgoodauthenticauthorityforit.RememberthechildrenthatmockedElisha—howthebearscameoutanddevouredthem.That’sthewaythingshappen,Fitzwilliam.”
“Ialwaysthoughtthatwasratherunnecessarilyvindictive.”
“No,no.You’relookingatitthewrongway.Elishawasagreatandholyman.Noonecouldbesufferedtomockathimandlive!Iunderstandthatbecauseofmyowncase!”
Lukelookedpuzzled.
LordWhitfieldloweredhisvoice.
“Icouldhardlybelieveitatfirst.Butithappenedeverytime!Myenemiesanddetractorswerecastdownandexterminated.”
“Exterminated?”
LordWhitfieldnoddedgentlyandsippedhisport.
“Timeaftertime.OnecasequitelikeElisha—alittleboy.Icameuponhiminthegardenshere—hewasemployedbymethen.Doyouknowwhathewasdoing?HewasgivinganimitationofMe—ofME!Mockingme!Struttingupanddownwithanaudiencetowatchhim.Makingfunofmeonmyownground!D’youknowwhathappenedtohim?Nottendayslaterhefelloutofanupperwindowandwaskilled!
“ThentherewasthatruffianCarter—adrunkardandamanofeviltongue.Hecamehereandabusedme.Whathappenedtohim?Aweeklaterhewasdead—drownedinthemud.Therehadbeenaservantgirl,too.Sheliftedhervoiceandcalledmenames.Herpunishmentsooncame.Shedrankpoisonbymistake!Icouldtellyouheapsmore.HumblebydaredtoopposemeovertheWaterscheme.Hediedofbloodpoisoning.Oh,it’sbeengoingonforyears—Mrs.Horton,forinstance,wasabominablyrudetomeanditwasn’tlongbeforeshepassedaway.”
HepausedandleaningforwardpassedtheportdecanterroundtoLuke.
“Yes,”hesaid.“Theyalldied.Amazing,isn’tit?”
Lukestaredathim.Amonstrous,anincrediblesuspicionleaptintohismind!Withneweyes,hestaredatthesmallfatmanwhosatattheheadofthetable,whowasgentlynoddinghisheadandwhoselightprotuberanteyesmetLuke’swithasmilinginsouciance.
ArushofdisconnectedmemoriesflashedrapidlythroughLuke’sbrain.MajorHortonsaying“LordWhitfieldwasverykind.Sentdowngrapesandpeachesfromhishothouse.”ItwasLordWhitfieldwhosograciouslyallowedTommyPiercetobeemployedonwindowcleaningatthelibrary.LordWhitfieldholdingforthonhisvisittotheWellermanKreutzInstitutewithitsserumsandgermculturesjustashorttimebeforeDr.Humbleby’sdeath.Everythingpointingplainlyinonedirectionandhe,foolthathehadbeen,neverevensuspecting….
LordWhitfieldwasstillsmiling.Aquiethappysmile.HenoddedhisheadgentlyatLuke.
“Theyalldie,”saidLordWhitfield.
Eighteen
CONFERENCEINLONDON
SirWilliamOssington,knowntothecroniesofearlierdaysasBillyBones,staredincredulouslyathisfriend.
“Didn’tyouhaveenoughcrimeoutinMayang?”heaskedplaintively.“Haveyougottocomehomeanddoourworkforushere?”
“CrimeinMayangisn’tonawholesalebasis,”saidLuke.“WhatI’mupagainstnowisamanwho’sdonearoundhalf-dozenmurdersatleast—andgotawaywithitwithoutabreathofsuspicion!”
SirWilliamsighed.
“Itdoeshappen.What’shisspeciality—wives?”
“No,he’snotthatkind.Hedoesn’tactuallythinkhe’sGodyet—buthesoonwill.”
“Mad?”
“Oh,unquestionably,Ishouldsay.”
“Ah!butheprobablyisn’tlegallymad.There’sadifference,youknow.”
“Ishouldsayheknowsthenatureandconsequenceofhisacts,”saidLuke.
“Exactly,”saidBillyBones.
“Well,don’tlet’squibbleaboutlegaltechnicalities.We’renotnearlyatthatstageyet.Perhapswenevershallbe.WhatIwantfromyou,oldboy,isafewfacts.TherewasastreetaccidenttookplaceonDerbyDaybetweenfiveandsixo’clockintheafternoon.OldladyrunoverinWhitehallandthecardidn’tstop.HernamewasLaviniaPinkerton.Iwantyoutodigupallfactsyoucanaboutthat.”
SirWilliamsighed.“Icansoongetholdofthatforyou.Twentyminutesoughttodoit.”
Hewasasgoodashisword.InlessthanthattimeLukewastalkingtothepoliceofficerinchargeofthematter.
“Yes,sir,Irememberthedetails.I’vegotmostofthemwrittendownhere.”HeindicatedthesheetthatLukewasstudying.“Aninquestwasheld—Mr.SatcherverellwastheCoroner.Censureofthedriverofthecar.”
“Didyouevergethim?”
“No,sir.”
“Whatmakeofcarwasit?”
“ItseemsprettycertainitwasaRolls—bigcardrivenbyachauffeur.Allwitnessesunanimousonthatpoint.MostpeopleknowaRollsbysight.”
“Youdidn’tgetthenumber?”
“No,unfortunately,nobodythoughttolookatit.TherewasanoteofanumberFZX4498—butitwasthewrongnumber,awomanspotteditandmentionedittoanotherwomanwhogaveittome.Idon’tknowwhetherthesecondwomangotitwrongbutanywayitwasnogood.”
Lukeaskedsharply:“Howdidyouknowitwasnogood?”
Theyoungofficersmiled.
“FZX4498isthenumberofLordWhitfield’scar.ThatcarwasstandingoutsideBoomingtonHouseatthetimeinquestionandthechauffeurwashavingtea.Hehadaperfectalibi—noquestionofhisbeingconcernedandthecarneverleftthebuildingtill6:30whenhislordshipcameout.”
“Isee,”saidLuke.
“It’salwaystheway,sir,”themansighed,“halfthewitnesseshavedisappearedbeforeaconstablecangetthereandtakedownparticulars.”
SirWilliamnodded.
“WeassumeditwasprobablyanumbernotunlikethatFZX4498—anumberbeginningprobablywithtwofours.Wedidourbest,butcouldnottraceanycar.Weinvestigatedseverallikelynumbersbuttheycouldallgivesatisfactoryaccountsofthemselves.”
SirWilliamlookedatLukequestioningly.
Lukeshookhishead.SirWilliamsaid:
“Thanks,Bonner,thatwilldo.”
Whenthemanhadgoneout,BillyBoneslookedinquiringlyathisfriend.
“What’sitallabout,Fitz?”
Lukesighed.“Italltallies.LaviniaPinkertonwascominguptoblowthegaff—totellthecleverpeopleatScotlandYardallaboutthewickedmurderer.Idon’tknowwhetheryou’dhavelistenedtoher—probablynot—”
“Wemight,”saidSirWilliam.“Thingsdocomethroughtousthatway.Justhearsayandgossip—wedon’tneglectthatsortofthing,Iassureyou.”
“That’swhatthemurdererthought.Hewasn’tgoingtoriskit.HeeliminatedLaviniaPinkertonandalthoughonewomanwassharpenoughtospothisnumbernoonebelievedher.”
BillyBonesspranguprightinhischair
“Youdon’tmean—”
“Yes,Ido.I’llbetyouanythingyoulikeitwasWhitfieldwhoranherdown.Idon’tknowhowhemanagedit.Thechauffeurwasawayattea.Somehoworother,Isuppose,hesneakedawayputtingonachauffeur’scoatandcap.Buthedidit,Billy!”
“Impossible!”
“Notatall.LordWhitfieldhascommittedatleastsevenmurderstomycertainknowledgeandprobablyalotmore.”
“Impossible,”saidSirWilliamagain.
“Mydearfellow,hepracticallyboastedtomeofitlastnight!”
“He’smad,then?”
“He’smad,allright,buthe’sacunningdevil.You’llhavetogowarily.Don’tlethimknowwesuspecthim.”
BillyBonesmurmured:“Incredible….”
Lukesaid:“Buttrue!”
Helaidahandonhisfriend’sshoulder.
“Lookhere,Billy,oldson,wemustgetrightdowntothis.Herearethefacts.”
Thetwomentalkedlongandearnestly.
OnthefollowingdayLukereturnedtoWychwood.Hedrovedownearlyinthemorning.HecouldhavereturnedthenightbeforebuthefeltamarkeddistasteforsleepingunderLordWhitfield’srooforacceptinghishospitalityunderthecircumstances.
OnhiswaythroughWychwood,hedrewuphiscaratMissWaynflete’shouse.ThemaidwhoopenedthedoorstaredathiminastonishmentbutshowedhimintothelittlediningroomwhereMissWaynfletewassittingatbreakfast.
Sherosetoreceivehiminsomesurprise.
Hedidnotwastetime.“Imustapologizeforbreakinginonyouatthishour.”
Helookedround.Themaidhadlefttheroom,shuttingthedoor.“I’mgoingtoaskyouaquestion,MissWaynflete.It’sratherapersonalone,butIthinkyouwillforgivemeforaskingit.”
“Pleaseaskmeanythingyoulike.Iamquitesureyourreasonfordoingsowillbeagoodone.”
“Thankyou.”
Hepaused.
“IwanttoknowexactlywhyyoubrokeoffyourengagementtoLordWhitfieldallthoseyearsago.”
Shehadnotexpectedthat.Thecolourroseinhercheeksandonehandwenttoherbreast.
“Hashetoldyouanything?”
Lukereplied:“Hetoldmetherewassomethingaboutabird—abirdwhoseneckwaswrung….”
“Hesaidthat?”Hervoicewaswondering.“Headmittedit?That’sextraordinary!”
“Willyoutellme,please.”
“Yes,Iwilltellyou.ButIbegthatyouwillneverspeakofthemattertohim—toGordon.Itisallpast—alloverandfinishedwith—Idon’twantit—rakedup.”
Shelookedathimappealingly.
Lukenodded.
“Itisonlyformypersonalsatisfaction,”hesaid.“Ishallnotrepeatwhatyoutellme.”
“Thankyou.”Shehadrecoveredhercomposure.Hervoicewasquitesteadyasshewenton.“Itwaslikethis.Ihadalittlecanary—Iwasveryfondofit—and—perhaps—rathersillyaboutit—girlswere,then.Theywererather—well—coyabouttheirpets.Itmusthavebeenirritatingtoaman—Idorealizethat.”
“Yes,”saidLukeasshepaused.
“Gordonwasjealousofthebird.Hesaidonedayquiteill-temperedly,‘Ibelieveyoupreferthatbirdtome.’AndI,intherathersillywaygirlswentoninthosedays,laughedandheldituponmyfingersayingsomethinglike:‘OfcourseIloveyou,dickybird,betterthanagreatsillyboy!OfcourseIdo!’Then—oh,itwasfrightening—Gordonsnatchedthebirdfrommeandwrungitsneck.Itwassuchashock—Ishallneverforgetit!”
Herfacehadgoneverypale.
“Andsoyoubrokeofftheengagement?”saidLuke.
“Yes.Icouldn’tfeelthesameafterwards.Yousee,Mr.Fitzwilliam—”shehesitated.“Itwasn’tjusttheaction—thatmighthavebeendoneinafitofjealousyandtemper—itwastheawfulfeelingIhadthathe’denjoyeddoingit—itwasthatthatfrightenedme!”
“Evenlongago,”murmuredLuke.“Eveninthesedays….”
Shelaidahandonhisarm.
“Mr.Fitzwilliam—”
Hemetthefrightenedappealinhereyeswithagravesteadylook.
“ItisLordWhitfieldwhocommittedallthesemurders!”hesaid.“You’veknownthatallalong,haven’tyou?”
Sheshookherheadwithvigour.
“Notknownit!IfIhadknownit,then—thenofcourseIwouldhavespokenout—no,itwasjustafear.”
“Andyetyounevergavemeahint?”
Sheclaspedherhandsinasuddenanguish.
“HowcouldI?HowcouldI?Iwasfondofhimonce….”
“Yes,”saidLukegently.“Isee.”
Sheturnedaway,fumbledinherbag,andasmalllace-edgedhandkerchiefwaspressedforamomenttohereyes.Thensheturnedbackagain,dry-eyed,dignifiedandcomposed.
“Iamsoglad,”shesaid,“thatBridgethasbrokenoffherengagement.Sheisgoingtomarryyouinstead,isshenot?”
“Yes.”
“Thatwillbemuchmoresuitable,”saidMissWaynfleteratherprimly.
Lukewasunabletohelpsmilingalittle.
ButMissWaynflete’sfacegrewgraveandanxious.Sheleanedforwardandoncemorelaidahandonhisarm.
“Butbeverycareful,”shesaid.“Bothofyoumustbeverycareful.”
“Youmean—withLordWhitfield?”
“Yes.Itwouldbebetternottotellhim.”
Lukefrowned.“Idon’tthinkeitherofuswouldliketheideaofthat.”
“Oh!whatdoesthatmatter?Youdon’tseemtorealizethathe’smad—mad.Hewon’tstandit—notforamoment!Ifanythinghappenstoher—”
“Nothingshallhappentoher!”
“Yes,Iknow—butdorealizethatyou’renotamatchforhim!He’ssodreadfullycunning!Takeherawayatonce—it’stheonlyhope.Makehergoabroad!You’dbetterbothgoabroad!”
Lukesaidslowly:
“Itmightbeaswellifshewent.Ishallstay.”
“Iwasafraidyouwouldsaythat.Butatanyrategetheraway.Atonce,mind!”
Lukenoddedslowly.
“Ithink,”hesaid,“thatyou’reright.”
“IknowI’mright!Getheraway—beforeit’stoolate.”
Nineteen
BROKENENGAGEMENT
BridgetheardLukedriveup.Shecameoutonthestepstomeethim.
Shesaidwithoutpreamble:
“I’vetoldhim.”
“What?”Lukewastakenaback.
HisdismaywassopatentthatBridgetnoticedit.
“Luke—whatisit?Youseemquiteupset.”
Hesaidslowly:
“IthoughtweagreedtowaituntilIcameback.”
“Iknow,butIthoughtitwasbettertogetitover.Hewasmakingplans—forourmarriage—ourhoneymoon—allthat!Isimplyhadtotellhim!”
Sheadded—atouchofreproachinhervoice:
“Itwastheonlydecentthingtodo.”
Heacknowledgedit.
“Fromyourpointofview,yes.Oh,yes,Iseethat.”
“FromeverypointofviewIshouldhavethought!”
Lukesaidslowly:
“Therearetimeswhenonecan’tafford—decency!”
“Luke,whatdoyoumean?”
Hemadeanimpatientgesture.
“Ican’ttellyounowandhere.HowdidWhitfieldtakeit?”
Bridgetsaidslowly:
“Extraordinarilywell.Reallyextraordinarilywell.Ifeltashamed.Ibelieve,Luke,thatI’veunderestimatedGordon—justbecausehe’sratherpompousandoccasionallyfutile.Ibelievereallyhe’srather—well—agreatlittleman!”
Lukenodded.
“Yes,possiblyheisagreatman—inwayswehaven’tsuspected.Lookhere,Bridget,youmustgetoutofhereassoonaspossible.”
“Naturally,Ishallpackupmythingsandleavetoday.Youmightdrivemeuptotown.Isupposewecan’tbothgoandstayattheBellsandMotley—thatis,iftheEllsworthycontingenthaveleft?”
Lukeshookhishead.
“No,you’dbettergobacktoLondon.I’llexplainpresently.InthemeantimeIsupposeI’dbetterseeWhitfield.”
“Isupposeit’sthethingtodo—it’sallratherbeastly,isn’tit?Ifeelsucharottenlittlegolddigger.”
Lukesmiledather.
“Itwasafairenoughbargain.You’dhaveplayedstraightwithhim.Anyway,it’snouselamentingoverthingsthatarepastanddonewith!I’llgoinandseeWhitfieldnow.”
HefoundLordWhitfieldstridingupanddownthedrawingroom.Hewasoutwardlycalm,therewasevenaslightsmileonhislips.ButLukenoticedthatapulseinhistemplewasbeatingfuriously.
HewheeledroundasLukeentered.
“Oh!thereyouare,Fitzwilliam.”
Lukesaid:
“It’snogoodmysayingI’msorryforwhatI’vedone—thatwouldbehypocritical!IadmitthatfromyourpointofviewI’vebehavedbadlyandI’veverylittletosayindefence.Thesethingshappen.”
LordWhitfieldresumedhispacing.
“Quite—quite!”Hewavedahand.
Lukewenton:
“BridgetandIhavetreatedyoushamefully.Butthereitis!Wecareforeachother—andthere’snothingtobedoneaboutit—excepttellyouthetruthandclearout.”
LordWhitfieldstopped.HelookedatLukewithpaleprotuberanteyes.
“No,”hesaid,“there’snothingyoucandoaboutit!”
Therewasaverycurioustoneinhisvoice.HestoodlookingatLuke,gentlyshakinghisheadasthoughincommiseration.
Lukesaidsharply:“Whatdoyoumean?”
“There’snothingyoucando!”saidLordWhitfield.“It’stoolate!”
Luketookastepnearerhim.
“Tellmewhatyoumean.”
LordWhitfieldsaidunexpectedly:
“AskHonoriaWaynflete.She’llunderstand.Sheknowswhathappens.Shespoketomeaboutitonce!”
“Whatdoessheunderstand?”
LordWhitfieldsaid:
“Evildoesn’tgounpunished.Theremustbejustice!I’msorrybecauseI’mfondofBridget.InawayI’msorryforyouboth!”
Lukesaid:
“Areyouthreateningus?”
LordWhitfieldseemedgenuinelyshocked
“No,no,mydearfellow.I’venofeelinginthematter!WhenIdidBridgetthehonourtochooseherasmywife,sheacceptedcertainresponsibilities.Now,sherepudiatesthem—butthere’snogoingbackinthislifeIfyoubreaklawsyoupaythepenalty….”
Lukeclenchedbothhands.Hesaid:
“YoumeanthatsomethingisgoingtohappentoBridget?Nowunderstandme,Whitfield,nothingisgoingtohappentoBridget—nortome!Ifyouattemptanythingofthatkindit’sthefinish.You’dbetterbecareful!Iknowagooddealaboutyou!”
“It’snothingtodowithme,”saidLordWhitfield.“I’monlytheinstrumentofahigherPower.WhatthatPowerdecreeshappens!”
“Iseeyoubelievethat,”saidLuke.
“Becauseit’sthetruth!Anyonewhogoesagainstmepaysthepenalty.YouandBridgetwillbenoexception.”
Lukesaid:
“That’swhereyou’rewrong.Howeverlongarunofluckmaybe,itbreaksintheend.Yoursisverynearbreakingnow.”
LordWhitfieldsaidgently:
“Mydearyoungman,youdon’tknowwhoitisyou’retalkingto.NothingcantouchMe!”
“Can’tit?We’llsee.You’dbetterwatchyourstep,Whitfield.”
Alittlerippleofmovementpassedovertheother.Hisvoicehadchangedwhenhespoke.
“I’vebeenverypatient,”saidLordWhitfield.“Don’tstrainmypatiencetoofar.Getoutofhere.”
“I’mgoing,”saidLuke.“AsquickasIcan.RememberthatI’vewarnedyou.”
Heturnedonhisheelandwentquicklyoutoftheroom.Heranupstairs.HefoundBridgetinherroomsuperintendingthepackingofherclothesbyahousemaid.
“Readysoon?”
“Intenminutes.”
Hereyesaskedaquestionwhichthepresenceofthemaidpreventedherfromputtingintowords.
Lukegaveashortnod.
Hewenttohisownroomandflunghisthingshurriedlyintohissuitcase.
HereturnedtenminuteslatertofindBridgetreadyfordeparture.
“Shallwegonow?”
“I’mready.”
Astheydescendedthestaircasetheymetthebutlerascending.
“MissWaynfletehascalledtoseeyou,miss.”
“MissWaynflete?Whereisshe?”
“Inthedrawingroomwithhislordship.”
Bridgetwentstraighttothedrawingroom,Lukeclosebehindher.
LordWhitfieldwasstandingbythewindowtalkingtoMissWaynflete.Hehadaknifeinhishand—alongslenderblade
“Perfectworkmanship,”hewassaying.“OneofmyyoungmenbroughtitbacktomefromMoroccowherehe’dbeenspecialcorrespondent.It’sMoorish,ofcourse,aRiffknife.”Hedrewafingerlovinglyalongtheblade.“Whatanedge!”
MissWaynfletesaidsharply:
“Putitaway,Gordon,forgoodness’sake!”
Hesmiledandlaiditdownamongacollectionofotherweaponsonatable.
“Ilikethefeelofit,”hesaidsoftly.
MissWaynfletehadlostsomeofherusualpoise.Shelookedwhiteandnervous.
“Ah,thereyouare,Bridget,mydear,”shesaid.
LordWhitfieldchuckled.
“Yes,there’sBridget.Makethemostofher,Honoria.Shewon’tbewithuslong.”
MissWaynfletesaid,sharply:
“Whatd’youmean?”
“Mean?Imeanshe’sgoingtoLondon.That’sright,isn’tit?That’sallImeant.”
Helookedroundatthemall.
“I’vegotabitofnewsforyou,Honoria,”hesaid.“Bridgetisn’tgoingtomarrymeafterall.SheprefersFitzwilliamhere.Aqueerthing,life.Well,I’llleaveyoutohaveyourtalk.”
Hewentoutoftheroom,hishandsjinglingthecoinsinhispockets.
“Oh,dear—”saidMissWaynflete.“Oh,dear—”
ThedeepdistressinhervoicewassonoticeablethatBridgetlookedslightlysurprised.Shesaiduncomfortably:
“I’msorry.Ireallyamfrightfullysorry.”
MissWaynfletesaid:
“He’sangry—he’sfrightfullyangry—oh,dear,thisisterrible.Whatarewegoingtodo?”
Bridgetstared.
“Do?Whatdoyoumean?”
MissWaynfletesaid,includingthembothinherreproachfulglance:
“Youshouldneverhavetoldhim!”
Bridgetsaid:
“Nonsense.Whatelsecouldwedo?”
“Youshouldn’thavetoldhimnow.Youshouldhavewaitedtillyou’dgotrightaway.”
Bridgetsaidshortly:
“That’samatterofopinion.Ithinkmyselfit’sbettertogetunpleasantthingsoverasquicklyaspossible.”
“Oh,mydear,ifitwereonlyaquestionofthat—”
Shestopped.ThenhereyesaskedaquestionofLuke.
Lukeshookhishead.Hislipsformedthewords,“Notyet.”
MissWaynfletemurmured,“Isee.”
Bridgetsaidwithsomeslightexasperation:
“Didyouwanttoseemeaboutsomethinginparticular,MissWaynflete?”
“Well—yes.AsamatteroffactIcametosuggestthatyoushouldcomeandpaymealittlevisit.Ithought—er—youmightfindituncomfortabletoremainonhereandthatyoumightwantafewdaysto—er—well,matureyourplans.”
“Thankyou,MissWaynflete,thatwasverykindofyou.”
“Yousee,you’dbequitesafewithmeand—”
Bridgetinterrupted:
“Safe?”
MissWaynflete,alittleflustered,saidhurriedly:
“Comfortable—that’swhatImeant—quitecomfortablewithme.Imean,notnearlysoluxuriousashere,naturally—butthehotwaterishotandmylittlemaidEmilyreallycooksquitenicely.”
“Oh,I’msureeverythingwouldbelovely,MissWaynflete,”saidBridgetmechanically.
“But,ofcourse,ifyouaregoinguptotown,thatismuchbetter….”
Bridgetsaidslowly:
“It’salittleawkward.Myauntwentoffearlytoaflowershowtoday.Ihaven’thadachanceyettotellherwhathashappened.IshallleaveanoteforhertellingherI’vegoneuptotheflat.”
“You’regoingtoyouraunt’sflatinLondon?”
“Yes.There’snoonethere.ButIcangooutformeals.”
“You’llbealoneinthatflat?Oh,dear,Ishouldn’tdothat.Notstaytherealone.”
“Nobodywilleatme,”saidBridgetimpatiently.“Besides,myauntwillcomeuptomorrow.”
MissWaynfleteshookherheadinaworriedmanner.
Lukesaid:
“Bettergotoahotel.”
Bridgetwheeledroundonhim.
“Why?What’sthematterwithyouall?WhyareyoutreatingmeasthoughIwasanimbecilechild?”
“No,no,dear,”protestedMissWaynflete.“Wejustwantyoutobecareful—that’sall!”
“Butwhy?Why?What’sitallabout?”
“Lookhere,Bridget,”saidLuke.“Iwanttohaveatalkwithyou.ButIcan’ttalkhere.Comewithmenowinthecarandwe’llgosomewherequiet.”
HelookedatMissWaynflete.
“Maywecometoyourhouseinaboutanhour’stime?ThereareseveralthingsIwanttosaytoyou.”
“Pleasedo.Iwillwaitforyouthere.”
LukeputhishandonBridget’sarm.HegaveanodofthankstoMissWaynflete
Hesaid:“We’llpickuptheluggagelater.Comeon.”
Heledheroutoftheroomandalongthehalltothefrontdoor.Heopenedthedoorofthecar.Bridgetgotin.Lukestartedtheengineanddroverapidlydownthedrive.Hegaveasighofreliefastheyemergedfromtheirongates.
“ThankGodI’vegotyououtoftheresafely,”hesaid.
“Haveyougonequitemad,Luke?Whyallthis‘hushhush—Ican’ttellyouwhatImeannow’—business?”
Lukesaidgrimly:
“Well,therearedifficulties,youknow,inexplainingthataman’samurdererwhenyou’reactuallyunderhisroof!”
Twenty
WE’REINIT—TOGETHER
Bridgetsatforaminutemotionlessbesidehim.Shesaid:
“Gordon?”
Lukenodded.
“Gordon?Gordon—amurderer?Gordonthemurderer?Ineverheardanythingsoridiculousinallmylife!”
“That’showitstrikesyou?”
“Yes,indeed.Why,Gordonwouldn’thurtafly.”
Lukesaidgrimly:
“Thatmaybetrue.Idon’tknow.Buthecertainlykilledacanarybird,andI’mprettycertainhe’skilledalargenumberofhumanbeingsaswell.”
“MydearLuke,Isimplycan’tbelieveit!”
“Iknow,”saidLuke.“Itdoessoundquiteincredible.Why,heneverevenenteredmyheadasapossiblesuspectuntilthenightbeforelast.”
Bridgetprotested:
“ButIknowallaboutGordon!Iknowwhathe’slike!He’sreallyasweetlittleman—pompous,yes,butratherpatheticreally.”
Lukeshookhishead.“You’vegottoreadjustyourideasabouthim,Bridget.”
“It’snogood,Luke,Isimplycan’tbelieveit!Whatputsuchanabsurdideaintoyourhead?Why,twodaysagoyouwerequitepositiveitwasEllsworthy.”
Lukewincedslightly.
“Iknow.Iknow.YouprobablythinkthattomorrowIshallsuspectThomas,andthedayafterIshallbeconvincedthatit’sHortonI’mafter!I’mnotreallysounbalancedasthat.Iadmittheidea’scompletelystartlingwhenitfirstcomestoyou,butifyoulookintoitabitcloser,you’llseethatitallfitsinremarkablywell.NowonderMissPinkertondidn’tdaretogotothelocalauthorities.Sheknewthey’dlaughather!ScotlandYardwasheronlyhope.”
“ButwhatpossiblemotivecouldGordonhaveforallthiskillingbusiness?Oh,it’sallsosilly!”
“Iknow.Butdon’tyourealizethatGordonWhitfieldhasaveryexaltedopinionofhimself?”
Bridgetsaid:“Hepretendstobeverywonderfulandveryimportant.That’sjustinferioritycomplex,poorlamb!”
“Possiblythat’sattherootofthetrouble.Idon’tknow.Butthink,Bridget—justthinkaminute.Rememberallthephrasesyou’veusedlaughinglyyourselfabouthim—lèse-majesté,etc.Don’tyourealizethattheman’segoisswollenoutofallproportion?Andit’salliedwithreligion.Mydeargirl,theman’sasmadasahatter!”
Bridgetthoughtforaminute.
Shesaidatlast:“Istillcan’tbelieveit.Whatevidencehaveyougot,Luke?”
“Well,therearehisownwords.Hetoldme,quiteplainlyanddistinctly,thenightbeforelast,thatanyonewhoopposedhiminanywayalwaysdied.”
“Goon.”
“Ican’tquiteexplaintoyouwhatImean—butitwasthewayhesaidit.Quitecalmandcomplacentand—howshallIputit?—quiteusedtotheidea!Hejustsattheresmilingtohimself…Itwasuncannyandratherhorrible,Bridget!”
“Goon.”
“Well,thenhewentontogivemealistofpeoplewho’dpassedoutbecausethey’dincurredhissovereigndispleasure!And,listentothis,Bridget,thepeoplehementionedwereMrs.Horton,AmyGibbs,TommyPierce,HarryCarter,Humbleby,andthatchauffeurfellow,Rivers.”
Bridgetwasshakenatlast.Shewentverypale.
“Hementionedthoseactualpeople?”
“Thoseactualpeople!Nowdoyoubelieve?”
“Oh,God,IsupposeImust…Whatwerehisreasons?”
“Horriblytrivial—that’swhatmadeitsofrightening.Mrs.Hortonhadsnubbedhim,TommyPiercehaddoneimitationsofhimandmadethegardenerslaugh,HarryCarterhadabusedhim,AmyGibbshadbeengrosslyimpertinent,Humblebyhaddaredtoopposehimpublicly,RiversthreatenedhimbeforemeandMissWaynflete—”
Bridgetputherhandstohereyes.
“Horrible…Quitehorrible…”shemurmured.
“Iknow.Thenthere’ssomeotheroutsideevidence.ThecarthatrandownMissPinkertoninLondonwasaRolls,anditsnumberwasthenumberofLordWhitfield’scar.”
“Thatdefinitelyclinchesit,”saidBridgetslowly.
“Yes.Thepolicethoughtthewomanwhogavethemthatnumbermusthavemadeamistake.Mistakeindeed!”
“Icanunderstandthat,”saidBridget.“Whenitcomestoarich,powerfulmanlikeLordWhitfield,naturallyhisstoryistheonetobebelieved!”
“Yes.OneappreciatesMissPinkerton’sdifficulty.”
Bridgetsaidthoughtfully:
“Onceortwiceshesaidratherqueerthingstome.Asthoughshewerewarningmeagainstsomething…Ididn’tunderstandintheleastatthetime…Iseenow!”
“Itallfitsin,”saidLuke.“That’sthewayofit.Atfirstonesays(asyousaid),“Impossible!”andthenonceoneacceptstheidea,everythingfitsin!ThegrapeshesenttoMrs.Horton—andshethoughtthenurseswerepoisoningher!AndthatvisitofhistotheWellermanKreutzInstitute—somehoworotherhemusthavegotholdofsomecultureofgermsandinfectedHumbleby.”
“Idon’tseehowhemanagedthat.”
“Idon’teither,buttheconnectionisthere.Onecan’tgetawayfromthat.”
“No…Asyousay,iffits.Andofcoursehecoulddothingsthatotherpeoplecouldn’t!Imeanhewouldbesocompletelyabovesuspicion!”
“IthinkMissWaynfletesuspected.Shementionedthatvisittotheinstitute.Broughtitintoconversationquitecasually—butIbelieveshehopedI’dactuponit.”
“Sheknew,then,allalong?”
“Shehadaverystrongsuspicion.Ithinkshewashandicappedbyhavingoncebeeninlovewithhim.”
Bridgetnodded.
“Yes,thataccountsforseveralthings.Gordontoldmetheyhadoncebeenengaged.”
“Shewanted,yousee,nottobelieveitwashim.Butshebecamemoreandmoresurethatitwas.Shetriedtogivemehints,butshecouldn’tbeartodoanythingoutrightagainsthim!Womenareoddcreatures!Ithink,inaway,shestillcaresabouthim….”
“Evenafterhejiltedher?”
“Shejiltedhim.Itwasratheranuglystory.I’lltellyou.”
Herecountedtheshort,uglyepisode.Bridgetstaredathim.
“Gordondidthat?”
“Yes.Eveninthosedays,yousee,hecan’thavebeennormal!”
Bridgetshiveredandmurmured:
“Allthoseyearsago…allthoseyears….”
Lukesaid:
“Hemayhavegotridofalotmorepeoplethanweshalleverknowabout!It’sjusttherapidsuccessionofdeathslatelythatdrewattentiontohim!Asthoughhe’dgotrecklesswithsuccess!”
Bridgetnodded.Shewassilentforaminuteortwo,thinking,thensheaskedabruptly:
“WhatexactlydidMissPinkertonsaytoyou—inthetrainthatday?Howdidshebegin?”
Lukecasthismindback.
“ToldmeshewasgoingtoScotlandYard,mentionedthevillageconstable,saidhewasanicefellowbutnotuptodealingwithmurder.”
“Thatwasthefirstmentionoftheword?”
“Yes.”
“Goon.”
“Thenshesaid,‘You’resurprised,Icansee.Iwasmyselfatfirst.Ireallycouldn’tbelieveit.IthoughtImustbeimaginingthings.’”
“Andthen?”
“Iaskedherifshewassureshewasn’t—imaginingthings,Imean—andshesaidquiteplacidly,‘Oh,no!Imighthavebeenthefirsttime,butnotthesecond,orthethirdorthefourth.Afterthatoneknows.’”
“Marvellous,”commentedBridget.“Goon.”
“SoofcourseIhumouredher—saidIwassureshewasdoingtherightthing.IwasanunbelievingThomasifthereeverwasone!”
“Iknow.Soeasytobewiseaftertheevent!I’dhavefeltthesame,niceandsuperiortothepoorolddame!Howdidtheconversationgoon?”
“Letmesee—oh!shementionedtheAbercrombiecase—youknow,theWelshpoisoner.Saidshehadn’treallybelievedthattherehadbeenalook—aspeciallook—thathegavehisvictims.Butthatshebelieveditnowbecauseshehadseenitherself.”
“Whatwordsdidsheuseexactly?”
Lukethought,creasinghisbrow.
“Shesaid,stillinthatniceladylikevoice,‘Ofcourse,Ididn’treallybelievethatwhenIreadaboutit—butit’strue.’AndIsaid,‘What’strue?’Andshesaid,‘Thelookonaperson’sface.’AndbyJove,Bridget,thewayshesaidthatabsolutelygotme!Herquietvoiceandthelookonherface—likesomeonewhohadreallyseensomethingalmosttoohorribletospeakabout!”
“Goon,Luke.Tellmeeverything.”
“Andthensheenumeratedthevictims—AmyGibbsandCarterandTommyPierce,andsaidthatTommywasahorridboyandCarterdrank.Andthenshesaid,‘Butnow—yesterday—itwasDr.Humbleby—andhe’ssuchagoodman—areallygoodman.’AndshesaidifshewenttoHumblebyandtoldhim,hewouldn’tbelieveher,he’donlylaugh!”
Bridgetgaveadeepsigh.
“Isee,”shesaid.“Isee.”
Lukelookedather.
“Whatisit,Bridget?Whatareyouthinkingof?”
“SomethingMrs.Humblebyoncesaid.Iwondered—no,nevermind,goon.Whatwasitshesaidtoyourightattheend?”
Lukerepeatedthewordssoberly.Theyhadmadeanimpressiononhimandhewasnotlikelytoforgetthem.
“I’dsaiditwasdifficulttogetawaywithalotofmurders,andsheanswered,‘No,no,mydearboy,that’swhereyou’rewrong.It’sveryeasytokill—solongasnoonesuspectsyou.Andyousee,thepersoninquestionisjustthelastpersonanyonewouldsuspect….’”
Hewassilent.Bridgetsaidwithashiver:
“Easytokill?Horriblyeasy—that’strueenough!Nowonderthosewordsstuckinyourmind,Luke.They’llstickinmine—allmylife!AmanlikeGordonWhitfield—oh!ofcourseit’seasy.”
“It’snotsoeasytobringithometohim,”saidLuke.
“Don’tyouthinkso?I’veanideaIcanhelpthere.”
“Bridget,Iforbidyou—”
“Youcan’t.Onecan’tjustsitbackandplaysafe.I’minthis,Luke.Itmaybedangerous—yes,I’lladmitthat—butI’vegottoplaymypart.”
“Bridget—”
“I’minthis,Luke!IshallacceptMissWaynflete’sinvitationandstaydownhere.”
“Mydarling,Iimploreyou—”
“It’sdangerousforbothofus.Iknowthat.Butwe’reinit,Luke—we’reinit—together!”
Twenty-one
“OWHYDOYOUWALKTHROUGHTHEFIELDSINGLOVES?”
ThecalminteriorofMissWaynflete’shousewasalmostananti-climaxafterthattensemomentinthecar.
MissWaynfletereceivedBridget’sacceptanceofherinvitationalittledoubtfully,hastening,however,toreiterateherofferofhospitalitybywayofshowingthatherdoubtswereduetoquiteanothercausethanunwillingnesstoreceivethegirl.
Lukesaid:
“Ireallythinkitwillbethebestthing,sinceyouaresokind,MissWaynflete.IamstayingattheBellsandMotley.I’dratherhaveBridgetundermyeyethanupintown.Afterall,rememberwhathappenedtherebefore.”
MissWaynfletesaid:
“Youmean—LaviniaPinkerton?”
“Yes.Youwouldhavesaid,wouldn’tyou,thatanyonewouldbequitesafeinthemiddleofacrowdedcity.”
“Youmean,”saidMissWaynflete,“thatanyone’ssafetydependsprincipallyonthefactthatnobodywishestokillthem?”
“Exactly.Wehavecometodependuponwhathasbeencalledthegoodwillofcivilization.”
MissWaynfletenoddedherheadthoughtfully.
Bridgetsaid:
“Howlonghaveyouknownthat—thatGordonwasthekiller,MissWaynflete?”
MissWaynfletesighed.
“Thatisadifficultquestiontoanswer,mydear.IsupposethatIhavebeenquitesure,inmyinmostheart,forsometime…ButIdidmybestnottorecognizethatbelief!Yousee,Ididn’twanttobelieveitandsoIpretendedtomyselfthatitwasawickedandmonstrousideaonmypart.”
Lukesaidbluntly:
“Haveyouneverbeenafraid—foryourself?”
MissWaynfleteconsidered.
“YoumeanthatifGordonhadsuspectedthatIknew,hewouldhavefoundsomemeansofgettingridofme?”
“Yes.”
MissWaynfletesaidgently:
“Ihave,ofcourse,beenalivetothatpossibility…Itriedtobe—carefulofmyself.ButIdonotthinkthatGordonwouldhaveconsideredmearealmenace.”
“Why?”
MissWaynfleteflushedalittle.
“Idon’tthinkthatGordonwouldeverbelievethatIwoulddoanythingto—tobringhimintodanger.”
Lukesaidabruptly:
“Youwentasfar,didn’tyou,astowarnhim?”
“Yes.Thatis,Ididhinttohimthatitwasoddthatanyonewhodispleasedhimshouldshortlymeetwithanaccident.”
Bridgetdemanded:
“Andwhatdidhesay?”
AworriedexpressionpassedoverMissWaynflete’sface.
“Hedidn’treactatallinthewayImeant.Heseemed—reallyit’smostextraordinary!—heseemedpleased…Hesaid,‘Soyou’venoticedthat?’Hequite—quitepreenedhimself,ifImayusethatexpression.”
“He’smad,ofcourse,”saidLuke.
MissWaynfleteagreedeagerly.
“Yes,indeed,thereisn’tanyotherexplanationpossible.He’snotresponsibleforhisacts.”ShelaidahandonLuke’sarm.“They—theywon’thanghim,willthey,Mr.Fitzwilliam?”
“No,no.SendhimtoBroadmoor,Iexpect.”
MissWaynfletesighedandleanedback.
“I’msoglad.”
HereyesrestedonBridget,whowasfrowningdownatthecarpet.
Lukesaid:
“Butwe’realongwayfromallthatstill.I’venotifiedthepowersthatbeandIcansaythismuch,they’repreparedtotakethematterseriously.Butyoumustrealizethatwe’vegotremarkablylittleevidencetogoupon.”
“We’llgetevidence,”saidBridget.
MissWaynfletelookedupather.TherewassomequalityinherexpressionthatremindedLukeofsomeoneorsomethingthathehadseennotlongago.Hetriedtopindowntheelusivememorybutfailed.
MissWaynfletesaiddoubtfully:
“Youareconfident,mydear.Well,perhapsyouareright.”
Lukesaid:
“I’llgoalongwiththecar,Bridget,andfetchyourthingsfromtheManor.”
Bridgetsaidimmediately:
“I’llcometoo.”
“I’dratheryoudidn’t.”
“Yes,butI’drathercome.”
Lukesaidirritably:
“Don’tdothemotherandchildactwithme,Bridget!Irefusetobeprotectedbyyou.”
MissWaynfletemurmured:
“Ireallythink,Bridget,thatitwillbequiteallright—inacar—andindaylight.”
Bridgetgaveaslightlyshamefacedlaugh.
“I’mbeingratheranidiot.Thisbusinessgetsonone’snerves.”
Lukesaid:
“MissWaynfleteprotectedmehometheothernight.Comenow,MissWaynflete,admitit!Youdid,didn’tyou?”
Sheadmittedit,smiling.
“Yousee,Mr.Fitzwilliam,youweresocompletelyunsuspicious!AndifGordonWhitfieldhadreallygraspedthefactthatyouweredownheretolookintothisbusinessandfornootherreason—well,itwasn’tverysafe.Andthat’saverylonelylane—anythingmighthavehappened!”
“Well,I’malivetothedangernowallright,”saidLukegrimly.“Ishan’tbecaughtnapping,Icanassureyou.”
MissWaynfletesaidanxiously:
“Remember,heisverycunning.Andmuchclevererthanyouwouldeverimagine!Really,amostingeniousmind.”
“I’mforewarned.”
“Menhavecourage—oneknowsthat,”saidMissWaynflete,“buttheyaremoreeasilydeceivedthanwomen.”
“That’strue,”saidBridget.
Lukesaid:
“Seriously,MissWaynflete,doyoureallythinkthatIaminanydanger?Doyouthink,infilmparlance,thatLordWhitfieldisreallyouttogetme?”
MissWaynfletehesitated.
“Ithink,”shesaid,“thattheprincipaldangeristoBridget.Itisherrejectionofhimthatisthesupremeinsult!IthinkthatafterhehasdealtwithBridgethewillturnhisattentiontoyou.ButIthinkthatundoubtedlyhewilltryforherfirst.”
Lukegroaned.
“Iwishtogoodnessyou’dgoabroad—now—atonce,Bridget.”
Bridget’slipssetthemselvestogether
“I’mnotgoing.”
MissWaynfletesighed.
“Youareabravecreature,Bridget.Iadmireyou.”
“You’ddothesameinmyplace.”
“Well,perhaps.”
Bridgetsaid,hervoicedroppingtoafull,richnote:
“LukeandIareinthistogether.”
Shewentoutwithhimtothedoor.Lukesaid:
“I’llgiveyouaringfromtheBellsandMotleywhenI’msafelyoutofthelion’sden.”
“Yes,do.”
“Mysweet,don’tlet’sgetallhetup!Eventhemostaccomplishedmurderershavetohavealittletimetomaturetheirplans!Ishouldsaywe’requiteallrightforadayortwo.SuperintendentBattleiscomingdownfromLondontoday.FromthenonWhitfieldwillbeunderobservation.”
“Infact,everythingisOK,andwecancutoutthemelodrama.”
Lukesaidgravely,layingahandonhershoulder:
“Bridget,mysweet,youwillobligemebynotdoinganythingrash!”
“Sametoyou,darlingLuke.”
Hesqueezedhershoulder,jumpedintothecaranddroveoff.
Bridgetreturnedtothesittingroom.MissWaynfletewasfussingalittleinagentlespinsterishmanner.
“Mydear,yourroom’snotquitereadyyet.Emilyisseeingtoit.DoyouknowwhatI’mgoingtodo?I’mgoingtogetyouanicecupoftea!It’sjustwhatyouneedafteralltheseupsettingincidents.”
“It’sfrightfullykindofyou,MissWaynflete,butIreallydon’twantany.”
WhatBridgetwouldhavelikedwasastrongcocktail,mainlycomposedofgin,butsherightlyjudgedthatthatformofrefreshmentwasnotlikelytobeforthcoming.Shedislikedteaintensely.Itusuallygaveherindigestion.MissWaynflete,however,haddecidedthatteawaswhatheryoungguestneeded.Shebustledoutoftheroomandreappearedaboutfiveminuteslater,herfacebeaming,carryingatrayonwhichstoodtwodaintyDresdencupsfullofafragrant,steamingbeverage.
“RealLapsangSouchong,”saidMissWaynfleteproudly.
Bridget,whodislikedChinateaevenmorethanIndian,gaveawansmile.
AtthatmomentEmily,asmallclumsy-lookinggirlwithpronouncedadenoids,appearedinthedoorwayandsaid:
“Ifyouplease,biss—didyoubeanthefrilledbillowcases?”
MissWaynfletehurriedlylefttheroom,andBridgettookadvantageoftherespitetopourherteaoutofthewindow,narrowlyescapingscaldingWonkyPooh,whowasontheflowerbedbelow.
WonkyPoohacceptedherapologies,spranguponthewindowsillandproceededtowindhimselfinandoutoverBridget’sshoulders,purringinanaffectedmanner.
“Handsome!”saidBridget,drawingahanddownhisback.
WonkyPooharchedhistailandpurredwithredoubledvigour.
“Nicepussy,”saidBridget,ticklinghisears.
MissWaynfletereturnedatthatminute.
“Dearme,”sheexclaimed.“WonkyPoohhasquitetakentoyou,hasn’the?He’ssostandoffishasarule!Mindhisear,mydear,he’shadabadearlatelyandit’sstillverypainful.”
Theinjunctioncametoolate.Bridget’shandhadtweakedthepainfulear.WonkyPoohspatatherandretired,amassoforangeoffendeddignity.
“Oh,dear,hashescratchedyou?”criedMissWaynflete.
“Nothingmuch,”saidBridget,suckingadiagonalscratchonthebackofherhand.
“ShallIputsomeiodineon?”
“Oh,no,it’squiteallright.Don’tlet’sfuss.”
MissWaynfleteseemedalittledisappointed.Feelingthatshehadbeenungracious,Bridgetsaidhastily:
“IwonderhowlongLukewillbe?”
“Nowdon’tworry,mydear.I’msureMr.Fitzwilliamiswellabletolookafterhimself.”
“Oh,Luke’stoughallright!”
Atthatmomentthetelephonerang.Bridgethurriedtoit.Luke’svoicespoke.
“Hallo?Thatyou,Bridget?I’mattheBellsandMotley.Canyouwaitforyourtrapstillafterlunch?BecauseBattlehasarrivedhere—youknowwhoImean—”
“ThesuperintendentmanfromScotlandYard?”
“Yes.Andhewantstohaveatalkwithmerightaway.”
“That’sallrightbyme.Bringmythingsroundafterlunchandtellmewhathesaysaboutitall.”
“Right.Solong,mysweet.”
“Solong.”
BridgetreplacedthereceiverandretailedtheconversationtoMissWaynflete.Thensheyawned.Afeelingoffatiguehadsucceededherexcitement.
MissWaynfletenoticedit.
“You’retired,mydear!You’dbetterliedown—no,perhapsthatwouldbeabadthingjustbeforelunch.Iwasjustgoingtotakesomeoldclothestoawomaninacottagenotveryfaraway—quiteaprettywalkoverthefields.Perhapsyou’dcaretocomewithme?We’lljusthavetimebeforelunch.”
Bridgetagreedwillingly.
Theywentoutthebackway.MissWaynfleteworeastrawhatand,toBridget’samusement,hadputongloves.
“WemightbegoingtoBondStreet!”shethoughttoherself.
MissWaynfletechattedpleasantlyofvarioussmallvillagemattersastheywalked.Theywentacrosstwofields,crossedaroughlaneandthentookapathleadingthrougharaggedcopse.ThedaywashotandBridgetfoundtheshadeofthetreespleasant.
MissWaynfletesuggestedthattheyshouldsitdownandrestaminute.
“It’sreallyratheroppressivelywarmtoday,don’tyouthink?Ifancytheremustbethunderabout!”
Bridgetacquiescedsomewhatsleepily.Shelaybackagainstthebank—hereyeshalf-closed—somelinesofpoetrywanderingthroughherbrain.
“OwhydoyouwalkthroughthefieldsinglovesOfatwhitewomanwhomnobodyloves?”
Butthatwasn’tquiteright!MissWaynfletewasn’tfat.Sheamendedthewordstofitthecase.
“Owhydoyouwalkthroughthefieldsingloves,Oleangreywomanwhomnobodyloves?”
MissWaynfletebrokeinuponherthoughts.
“You’reverysleepy,dear,aren’tyou?”
Thewordsweresaidinagentleeverydaytone,butsomethinginthemjerkedBridget’seyessuddenlyopen.
MissWaynfletewasleaningforwardtowardsher.Hereyeswereeager,hertonguepassedgentlyoverherlips.Sherepeatedherquestion:
“You’reverysleepy,aren’tyou?”
Thistimetherewasnomistakingthedefinitesignificanceofthetone.AflashpassedthroughBridget’sbrain—alightningflashofcomprehension,succeededbyoneofcontemptatherowndensity!
Shehadsuspectedthetruth—butithadbeennomorethanadimsuspicion.Shehadmeant,workingquietlyandsecretly,tomakesure.Butnotforonemomenthadsherealizedthatanythingwastobeattemptedagainstherself.Shehad,shethought,concealedhersuspiciousentirely.Norwouldshehavedreamedthatanythingwouldbecontemplatedsosoon.Fool—seventimesfool!
Andshethoughtsuddenly:
“Thetea—therewassomethinginthetea.Shedoesn’tknowIneverdrankit.Now’smychance!Imustpretend!Whatstuffwasit,Iwonder?Poison?Orjustsleepingstuff?Sheexpectsmetobesleepy—that’sevident.”
Shelethereyelidsdroopagain.Inwhatshehopedwasanaturaldrowsyvoice,shesaid:
“Ido—frightfully…Howfunny!Idon’tknowwhenI’vefeltsosleepy.”
MissWaynfletenoddedsoftly.
Bridgetwatchedtheolderwomannarrowlythroughheralmostclosedeyes.
Shethought:
“I’mamatchforheranyway!Mymusclesareprettytough—she’saskinnyfrailoldpussy.ButI’vegottomakehertalk—that’sit—makehertalk!”
MissWaynfletewassmiling.Itwasnotanicesmile.Itwasslyandnotveryhuman.
Bridgetthought:
“She’slikeagoat.God!howlikeagoatsheis!Agoat’salwaysbeenanevilsymbol!Iseewhynow!Iwasright—Iwasrightinthatfantasticideaofmine!Hellhathnofurylikeawomanscorned…Thatwasthestartofit—it’sallthere.”
Shemurmured,andthistimehervoiceheldadefinitenoteofapprehension.
“Idon’tknowwhat’sthematterwithme…Ifeelsoqueer—soveryqueer!”
MissWaynfletegaveaswiftglanceroundher.Thespotwasentirelydesolate.Itwastoofarfromthevillageforashouttobeheard.Therewerenohousesorcottagesnear.Shebegantofumblewiththeparcelshecarried—theparcelthatwassupposedtocontainoldclothes.Apparentlyitdid.Thepapercameapart,revealingasoftwoollygarment.Andstillthoseglovedhandsfumbledandfumbled.
“Owhydoyouwalkthroughthefieldsingloves?”
“Yes—why?Whygloves?”
Ofcourse!Ofcourse!Thewholethingsobeautifullyplanned!
Thewrappingfellaside.Carefully,MissWaynfleteextractedtheknife,holdingitverycarefullysoasnottoobliteratethefingerprintswhichwerealreadyonit—wheretheshortpodgyfingersofLordWhitfieldhadhelditearlierthatdayinthedrawingroomatAsheManor.
TheMoorishknifewiththesharpblade.
Bridgetfeltslightlysick.Shemustplayfortime—yesandshemustmakethewomantalk—thislean,greywomanwhomnobodyloved.Itoughtnottobedifficult—notreally.Becauseshemustwanttotalk,oh,sobadly—andtheonlypersonshecouldevertalktowassomeonelikeBridget—someonewhowasgoingtobesilencedforever.
Bridgetsaid—inafaint,thickvoice:
“What’s—that—knife?”
AndthenMissWaynfletelaughed.
Itwasahorriblelaugh,softandmusicalandladylike,andquiteinhuman.Shesaid:
“It’sforyou,Bridget.Foryou!I’vehatedyou,youknow,foraverylongtime.”
Bridgetsaid:
“BecauseIwasgoingtomarryGordonWhitfield?”
MissWaynfletenodded.
“You’reclever.You’requiteclever!This,yousee,willbethecrowningproofagainsthim.You’llbefoundhere,withyourthroatcut—and—hisknife,andhisfingerprintsontheknife!CleverthewayIaskedtoseeitthismorning!
“AndthenIslippeditintomybagwrappedinahandkerchiefwhilstyouwereupstairs.Soeasy!Butthewholethinghasbeeneasy.Iwouldhardlyhavebelievedit.”
Bridgetsaid—stillinthethick,muffledvoiceofapersonheavilydrugged:
“That’s—because—you’re—so—devilishly—clever….”
MissWaynfletelaughedherladylikelittlelaughagain.Shesaidwithahorriblekindofpride:
“Yes,Ialwayshadbrains,evenasagirl!Buttheywouldn’tletmedoanything…Ihadtostayathome—doingnothing.AndthenGordon—justacommonboot-maker’sson,buthehadambition,Iknew.Iknewhewouldriseintheworld.Andhejiltedme—jiltedme!Allbecauseofthatridiculousbusinesswiththebird.”
Herhandsmadeaqueergestureasthoughsheweretwistingsomething.
AgainawaveofsicknesspassedoverBridget.
“GordonRaggdaringtojiltme—ColonelWaynflete’sdaughter!IsworeI’dpayhimoutforthat!Iusedtothinkaboutitnightafternight…Andthenwegotpoorerandpoorer.Thehousehadtobesold.Heboughtit!Hecamealongpatronizingme,offeringmeajobinmyownoldhome.HowIhatedhimthen!ButInevershowedmyfeelings.Weweretaughtthatasgirls—amostvaluabletraining.That,Ialwaysthink,iswherebreedingtells.”
Shewassilentaminute.Bridgetwatchedher,hardlydaringtobreathelestsheshouldstemtheflowofwords.
MissWaynfletewentonsoftly:
“AllthetimeIwasthinkingandthinking…FirstofallIjustthoughtofkillinghim.That’swhenIbegantoreadupcriminology—quietly,youknow—inthelibrary.AndreallyIfoundmyreadingcameinmostusefulmorethanoncelater.ThedoorofAmy’sroom,forinstance,turningthekeyinthelockfromtheoutsidewithpincersafterI’dchangedthebottlesbyherbed.Howshesnored,thatgirl,quitedisgusting,itwas!”
Shepaused.
“Letmesee,wherewasI?”
ThatgiftwhichBridgethadcultivated,whichhadcharmedLordWhitfield,thegiftoftheperfectlistener,stoodheringoodsteadnow.HonoriaWaynfletemightbeahomicidalmaniacbutshewasalsosomethingmuchmorecommonthanthat.Shewasahumanbeingwhowantedtotalkaboutherself.AndwiththatclassofhumanbeingBridgetwaswellfittedtocope.
Shesaid,andhervoicehadexactlytherightinvitationinit:
“Youmeantatfirsttokillhim—”
“Yes,butthatdidn’tsatisfyme—muchtooordinary—ithadtobesomethingbetterthanjustkilling.AndthenIgotthisidea.Itjustcametome.Heshouldsufferforcommittingalotofcrimesofwhichhewasquiteinnocent.Heshouldbeamurderer!Heshouldbehangedformycrimes.Orelsethey’dsayhewasmadandhewouldbeshutupallhislife…Thatmightbeevenbetter.”
Shegigglednow.Ahorriblelittlegiggle…Hereyeswerelightandstaringwithqueerelongatedpupils.
“AsItoldyou,Ireadalotofbooksoncrime.Ichosemyvictimscarefully—therewasnottobetoomuchsuspicionatfirst.Yousee,”hervoicedeepened,“Ienjoyedthekilling…Thatdisagreeablewoman,LydiaHorton—she’dpatronizedme—onceshereferredtomeasanoldmaid.IwasgladwhenGordonquarrelledwithher.Twobirdswithonestone,Ithought!Suchfun,sittingbyherbedsideandslippingthearsenicinhertea,andthengoingoutandtellingthenursehowMrs.HortonhadcomplainedofthebittertasteofLordWhitfield’sgrapes!Thestupidwomanneverrepeatedthat,whichwassuchapity.
“Andthentheothers!AssoonasIheardthatGordonhadagrievanceagainstanyone,itwassoeasytoarrangeforanaccident!Andhewassuchafool—suchanincrediblefool!Imadehimbelievethattherewassomethingveryspecialabouthim!Thatanyonewhowentagainsthimsuffered.Hebelieveditquiteeasily.PoordearGordon,he’dbelieveanything.Sogullible!”
BridgetthoughtofherselfsayingtoLukescornfully:
“Gordon!Hecouldbelieveanything!”
Easy?Howeasy!PoorpompouscredulouslittleGordon.
Butshemustlearnmore!Easy?Thiswaseasytoo!She’ddoneitasasecretaryforyears.Quietlyencouragedheremployerstotalkaboutthemselves.Andthiswomanwantedbadlytotalk,toboastaboutherowncleverness.
Bridgetmurmured:
“Buthowdidyoumanageitall?Idon’tseehowyoucould.”
“Oh,itwasquiteeasy!Itjustneededorganisation!WhenAmywasdischargedfromtheManorIengagedheratonce.Ithinkthehatpaintideawasquiteclever—andthedoorbeinglockedontheinsidemademequitesafe.ButofcourseIwasalwayssafebecauseIneverhadanymotive,andyoucan’tsuspectanyoneofmurderifthereisn’tamotive.Carterwasquiteeasytoo—hewaslurchingaboutinthefogandIcaughtupwithhimonthefootbridgeandgavehimaquickpush.I’mreallyverystrong,youknow.”
Shepausedandthesofthorriblelittlegigglecameagain.
“Thewholethingwassuchfun!IshallneverforgetTommy’sfacewhenIpushedhimoffthewindowsillthatday.Hehadn’ttheleastidea….”
SheleanedtowardsBridgetconfidentially.
“Peoplearereallyverystupid,youknow.I’dneverrealizedthatbefore.”
Bridgetsaidverysoftly:
“Butthen—you’reunusuallyclever.”
“Yes—yes—perhapsyou’reright.”
Bridgetsaid:
“Dr.Humbleby—thatmusthavebeenmoredifficult?”
“Yes,itwasreallyamazinghowthatsucceeded.Itmightnothaveworked,ofcourse.ButGordonhadbeentalkingtoeverybodyofhisvisittotheWellermanKreutzInstitute,andIthoughtifIcouldmanageitsothatpeoplerememberedthatvisitandconnecteditafterwards.AndWonkyPooh’searwasreallyverynasty,alotofdischarge.Imanagedtorunthepointofmyscissorsintothedoctor’shand,andthenIwassodistressedandinsistedonputtingonadressingandbandagingitup.Hedidn’tknowthedressinghadbeeninfectedfirstfromWonkyPooh’sear.Ofcourse,itmightn’thaveworked—itwasjustalongshot.Iwasdelightedwhenitdid—especiallyasWonkyPoohhadbeenLavinia’scat.”
Herfacedarkened.
“LaviniaPinkerton!Sheguessed…ItwasshewhofoundTommythatday.AndthenwhenGordonandoldDr.Humblebyhadthatrow,shecaughtmelookingatHumbleby.Iwasoffmyguard.IwasjustwonderingexactlyhowI’ddoit…Andsheknew!Iturnedroundtofindherwatchingmeand—Igavemyselfaway.Isawthatsheknew.Shecouldn’tproveanything,ofcourse.Iknewthat.ButIwasafraidallthesamesomeonemightbelieveher.IwasafraidtheymightbelieveheratScotlandYard.Ifeltsurethatwaswhereshewasgoingthatday.IwasinthesametrainandIfollowedher.
“Thewholethingwassoeasy.ShewasonanislandcrossingWhitehall.Iwasclosebehindher.Sheneversawme.AbigcarcamealongandIshovedwithallmymight.I’mverystrong!Shewentrightdowninfrontofit.ItoldthewomannexttomeI’dseenthenumberofthecarandgaveherthenumberofGordon’sRolls.Ihopedshe’drepeatittothepolice.
“Itwasluckythecardidn’tstop.Somechauffeurjoyridingwithouthismaster’sknowledge,Isuspect.Yes,Iwasluckythere.I’malwayslucky.ThatscenetheotherdaywithRivers,andLukeFitzwilliamaswitness.I’vehadsuchfunleadinghimalong!OddhowdifficultitwastomakehimsuspectGordon.ButafterRivers’sdeathhewouldbesuretodoso.Hemust!
“Andnow—well,thiswilljustfinishthewholethingnicely.”
ShegotupandcametowardsBridget.Shesaidsoftly:
“Gordonjiltedme!Hewasgoingtomarryyou.AllmylifeI’vebeendisappointed.I’vehadnothing—nothingatall….”
“Oleangreywomanwhomnobodyloves…”
Shewasbendingoverher,smiling,withmadlighteyes…Theknifegleamed….
Withallheryouthandstrength,Bridgetsprang.Likeatigercat,sheflungherselffullforceontheotherwoman,knockingherback,seizingherrightwrist.
Takenbysurprise,HonoriaWaynfletefellbackbeforetheonslaught.Butthen,afteramoment’sinertia,shebegantofight.Instrengththerewasnocomparisonbetweenthem.Bridgetwasyoungandhealthywithmusclestoughenedbygames.HonoriaWaynfletewasaslender-built,frailcreature.
ButtherewasonefactoronwhichBridgethadnotreckoned.HonoriaWaynfletewasmad.Herstrengthwasthestrengthoftheinsane.ShefoughtlikeadevilandherinsanestrengthwasstrongerthanthesanemuscledstrengthofBridget.Theyswayedtoandfro,andstillBridgetstrovetowresttheknifeawayfromher,andstillHonoriaWaynfletehungontoit
Andthen,littlebylittle,themadwoman’sstrengthbegantoprevail.Bridgetcriedoutnow:
“Luke…Help…Help…”
Butshehadnohopeofhelpcoming.SheandHonoriaWaynfletewerealone.Aloneinadeadworld.Withasupremeeffortshewrenchedtheother’swristback,andatlastsheheardtheknifefall.
ThenextminuteHonoriaWaynflete’stwohandshadfastenedroundherneckinamaniacgrasp,squeezingthelifeoutofher.Shegaveonelastchokedcry….
Twenty-two
MRS.HUMBLEBYSPEAKS
LukewasfavourablyimpressedbytheappearanceofSuperintendentBattle.Hewasasolid,comfortable-lookingmanwithabroadredfaceandalargehandsomemoustache.Hedidnotexactlyexpressbrillianceatafirstglance,butasecondglancewasapttomakeanobservantpersonthoughtful,forSuperintendentBattle’seyewasunusuallyshrewd.
Lukedidnotmakethemistakeofunderestimatinghim.HehadmetmenofBattle’stypebefore.Heknewthattheycouldbetrusted,andthattheyinvariablygotresults.Hecouldnothavewishedforabettermantobeputinchargeofthecase.
WhentheywerealonetogetherLukesaid:
“You’reratherabignoisetobesentdownonacaselikethis?”
SuperintendentBattlesmiled.
“Itmayturnouttobeaseriousbusiness,Mr.Fitzwilliam.WhenamanlikeLordWhitfieldisconcerned,wedon’twanttohaveanymistakes.”
“Iappreciatethat.Areyoualone?”
“Oh,no.Gotadetective-sergeantwithme.He’sattheotherpub,theSevenStars,andhisjobistokeepaneyeonhislordship.”
“Isee.”
Battleasked:
“Inyouropinion,Mr.Fitzwilliam,there’snodoubtwhatever?You’reprettysureofyourman?”
“OnthefactsIdon’tseethatanyalternativetheoryispossible.Doyouwantmetogiveyouthefacts?”
“I’vehadthem,thankyou,fromSirWilliam.”
“Well,whatdoyouthink?IsupposeitseemstoyouwildlyunlikelythatamaninLordWhitfield’spositionshouldbeahomicidalcriminal?”
“Veryfewthingsseemunlikelytome,”saidSuperintendentBattle.“Nothing’simpossibleincrime.That’swhatI’vealwayssaid.Ifyouweretotellmethatadearoldmaidenlady,oranarchbishop,oraschoolgirl,wasadangerouscriminal,Iwouldn’tsayno.I’dlookintothematter.”
“Ifyou’veheardthemainfactsofthecasefromSirWilliam,I’lljusttellyouwhathappenedthismorning,”saidLuke.
HeranoverbrieflythemainlinesofhisscenewithLordWhitfield.SuperintendentBattlelistenedwithagooddealofinterest.
Hesaid:
“Yousayhewasfingeringaknife.Didhemakeaspecialpointofthatknife,Mr.Fitzwilliam?Washethreateningwithit?”
“Notopenly.Hetestedtheedgeinarathernastyway—akindof?stheticpleasureaboutthatthatIdidn’tcareabout.MissWaynfletefeltthesame,Ibelieve.”
“That’stheladyyouspokeabout—theonewho’sknownLordWhitfieldallherlife,andwasonceengagedtomarryhim?”
“That’sright.”
SuperintendentBattlesaid:
“Ithinkyoucanmakeyourmindeasyabouttheyounglady,Mr.Fitzwilliam.I’llhavesomeoneputontokeepasharpwatchonher.Withthat,andwithJacksontailinghislordship,thereoughttobenodangerofanythinghappening.”
“Yourelievemymindagooddeal,”saidLuke.
Thesuperintendentnoddedsympathetically.
“It’sanastypositionforyou,Mr.Fitzwilliam.WorryingaboutMissConway.Mindyou,Idon’texpectthiswillbeaneasycase.LordWhitfieldmustbeaprettyshrewdman.Hewillprobablylielowforagoodlongwhile.Thatis,unlesshe’sgottothelaststage.”
“Whatdoyoucallthelaststage?”
“Akindofswollenegoismwhereacriminalthinkshesimplycan’tbefoundout!He’stoocleverandeverybodyelseistoostupid!Then,ofcourse,wegethim!”
Lukenodded.Herose.
“Well,”hesaid,“Iwishyouluck.LetmehelpinanywayIcan.”
“Certainly.”
“There’snothingthatyoucansuggest?”
Battleturnedthequestionoverinhismind.
“Idon’tthinkso.Notatthemoment.Ijustwanttogetthegeneralhangofthingsintheplace.PerhapsIcouldhaveanotherwordwithyouintheevening?”
“Rather.”
“Ishallknowbetterwherewearethen.”
Lukefeltvaguelycomfortedandsoothed.ManypeoplehadhadthatfeelingafteraninterviewwithSuperintendentBattle.
Heglancedathiswatch.ShouldhegoroundandseeBridgetbeforelunch?
Betternot,hethought.MissWaynfletemightfeelthatshehadtoaskhimtostayforthemeal,anditmightdisorganizeherhousekeeping.Middle-agedladies,Lukeknewfromexperiencewithaunts,wereliabletobefussedoverproblemsofhousekeeping.HewonderedifMissWaynfletewasanaunt?Probably.
Hehadstrolledouttothedooroftheinn.Afigureinblackhurryingdownthestreetstoppedsuddenlywhenshesawhim.
“Mr.Fitzwilliam.”
“Mrs.Humbleby.”
Hecameforwardandshookhands.
Shesaid:
“Ithoughtyouhadleft?”
“No—onlychangedmyquarters.I’mstayingherenow.”
“AndBridget?IheardshehadleftAsheManor?”
“Yes,shehas.”
Mrs.Humblebysighed.
“Iamsoglad—soverygladshehasgonerightawayfromWychwood.”
“Oh,she’sstillhere.Asamatteroffact,she’sstayingwithMissWaynflete.”
Mrs.Humblebymovedbackastep.Herface,Lukenotedwithsurprise,lookedextraordinarilydistressed.
“StayingwithHonoriaWaynflete?Oh,butwhy?”
“MissWaynfleteverykindlyaskedhertostayforafewdays.”
Mrs.Humblebygavealittleshiver.ShecameclosetoLukeandlaidahandonhisarm.
“Mr.Fitzwilliam,IknowIhavenorighttosayanything—anythingatall.Ihavehadalotofsorrowandgrieflatelyand—perhaps—itmakesmefanciful!Thesefeelingsofminemaybeonlysickfancies.”
Lukesaidgently:
“Whatfeelings?”
“ThisconvictionIhaveof—ofevil!”
ShelookedtimidlyatLuke.Seeingthathemerelybowedhisheadgravelyanddidnotappeartoquestionherstatement,shewenton:
“Somuchwickedness—thatisthethoughtthatisalwayswithme—wickednesshereinWychwood.Andthatwomanisatthebottomofitall.Iamsureofit!”
Lukewasmystified.
“Whatwoman?”
Mrs.Humblebysaid:
“HonoriaWaynfleteis,Iamsure,averywickedwoman!Oh,Isee,youdon’tbelieveme!NoonebelievedLaviniaPinkertoneither.Butwebothfeltit.She,Ithink,knewmorethanIdid…Remember,Mr.Fitzwilliam,ifawomanisnothappysheiscapableofterriblethings.”
Lukesaidgently:
“Thatmaybe—yes.”
Mrs.Humblebysaidquickly:
“Youdon’tbelieveme?Well,whyshouldyou?ButIcan’tforgetthedaywhenJohncamehomewithhishandboundupfromherhouse,thoughhepooh-pooheditandsaiditwasonlyascratch.”
Sheturned.
“Good-bye.PleaseforgetwhatIhavejustsaid.I—Idon’tfeelquitemyselfthesedays.”
Lukewatchedhergo.HewonderedwhyMrs.HumblebycalledHonoriaWaynfleteawickedwoman.HadDr.HumblebyandHonoriaWaynfletebeenfriends,andwasthedoctor’swifejealous?
Whathadshesaid?“NobodybelievedLaviniaPinkertoneither.”ThenLaviniaPinkertonmusthaveconfidedsomeofhersuspicionstoMrs.Humbleby.
Witharushthememoryoftherailwaycarriagecameback,andtheworriedfaceofaniceoldlady.Heheardagainanearnestvoicesaying,“Thelookonaperson’sface.”Andthewayherownfacehadchangedasthoughshewereseeingsomethingveryclearlyinhermind.Justforamoment,hethought,herfacehadbeenquitedifferent,thelipsdrawnbackfromtheteethandaqueer,almostgloatinglookinhereyes.
Hesuddenlythought:ButI’veseensomeonelookjustlikethat—thatsameexpression…Quitelately—when?Thismorning!Ofcourse!MissWaynflete,whenshewaslookingatBridgetinthedrawingroomattheManor.
Andquitesuddenlyanothermemoryassailedhim.Oneofmanyyearsago.HisAuntMildredsaying,“Shelooked,youknow,mydear,quitehalf-witted!”andjustforaminuteherownsanecomfortablefacehadborneanimbecile,mindlessexpression….
LaviniaPinkertonhadbeenspeakingofthelookshehadseenonaman’s—no,aperson’sface.Wasitpossiblethat,justforasecond,hervividimaginationhadreproducedthelookthatshesaw—thelookofamurdererlookingathisnextvictim….
Halfunawareofwhathewasdoing,LukequickenedhispacetowardsMissWaynflete’shouse.
Avoiceinhisbrainwassayingoverandoveragain:
“Notaman—shenevermentionedaman—youassumeditwasamanbecauseyouwerethinkingofaman—butsheneversaidso…Oh,God,amIquitemad?Itisn’tpossiblewhatI’mthinking…surelyitisn’tpossible—itwouldn’tmakesense…ButImustgettoBridget.Imustknowshe’sallright…Thoseeyes—thosequeer,lightambereyes.Oh,I’mmad!Imustbemad!Whitfield’sthecriminal!Hemustbe.Hepracticallysaidso!”
Andstill,likeanightmare,hesawMissPinkerton’sfaceinitsmomentaryimpersonationofsomethinghorribleandnotquitesane.
Thestuntedlittlemaidopenedthedoortohim.Alittlestartledbyhisvehemence,shesaid:
“Thelady’sgoneout.MissWaynfletetoldmeso.I’llseeifMissWaynflete’sin.”
Hepushedpasther,wentintothedrawingroom.Emilyranupstairs.Shecamedownbreathless.
“Themistressisouttoo.”
Luketookherbytheshoulder.
“Whichway?Wheredidtheygo?”
Shegapedathim.
“Theymusthavegoneoutbytheback.I’dhaveseenthemifthey’dgoneoutfrontwaysbecausethekitchenlooksoutthere.”
Shefollowedhimasheracedoutthroughthedoorintothetinygardenandoutbeyond.Therewasamanclippingahedge.Lukewentuptohimandaskedaquestion,strivingtokeephisvoicenormal.
Themansaidslowly:
“Twoladies?Yes.Somewhilesince.Iwashavingmydinnerunderthehedge.Reckontheydidn’tnoticeme.”
“Whichwaydidtheygo?”
Hestrovedesperatelytomakehisvoicenormal.Yettheother’seyesopenedalittlewiderasherepliedslowly:
“Acrossthemfields…Overthatway.Idon’tknowwhereafterthat.”
Lukethankedhimandbegantorun.Hisstrongfeelingofurgencywasdeepened.Hemustcatchupwiththem—hemust!Hemightbequitemad.Inallprobabilitytheywerejusttakinganamicablestroll,butsomethinginhimclamouredforhaste.Morehaste!
Hecrossedthetwofields,stoodhesitatinginacountrylane.Whichwaynow?
Andthenheheardthecall—faint,faraway,butunmistakable….
“Luke,help.”Andagain,“Luke…”
Unerringlyheplungedintothewoodandraninthedirectionfromwhichthecryhadcome.Thereweremoresoundsnow—scuffling—panting—alowgurglingcry.
Hecamethroughthetreesintimetotearamadwoman’shandsfromhervictim’sthroat,toholdher,struggling,foaming,cursing,tillatlastshegaveaconvulsiveshudderandturnedrigidinhisgrasp.
Twenty-three
NEWBEGINNING
“ButIdon’tunderstand,”saidLordWhitfield.“Idon’tunderstand.”
Hestrovetomaintainhisdignity,butbeneaththepompousexterioraratherpitiablebewildermentwasevident.Hecouldhardlycredittheextraordinarythingsthatwerebeingtoldhim.
“It’slikethis,LordWhitfield,”saidBattlepatiently.“Tobeginwiththereisatouchofinsanityinthefamily.We’vefoundthatoutnow.Oftenthewaywiththeseoldfamilies.Ishouldsayshehadapredispositionthatway.Andthenshewasanambitiouslady—andshewasthwarted.Firsthercareerandthenherloveaffair.”Hecoughed.“Iunderstanditwasyouwhojiltedher?”
LordWhitfieldsaidstiffly:
“Idon’tlikethetermjilt.”
SuperintendentBattleamendedthephrase.
“Itwasyouwhoterminatedtheengagement?”
“Well—yes.”
“Telluswhy,Gordon,”saidBridget.
LordWhitfieldgotratherred.Hesaid:
“Oh,verywell,ifImust.Honoriahadacanary.Shewasveryfondofit.Itusedtotakesugarfromherlips.Onedayitpeckedherviolentlyinstead.Shewasangryandpickeditup—and—wrungitsneck!I—Icouldn’tfeelthesameafterthat.ItoldherIthoughtwe’dbothmadeamistake.”
Battlenodded.Hesaid:
“Thatwasthebeginningofit!AsshetoldMissConway,sheturnedherthoughtsandherundoubtedmentalabilitytooneaimandpurpose.”
LordWhitfieldsaidincredulously:
“Togetmeconvictedasamurderer?Ican’tbelieveit.”
Bridgetsaid,“It’strue,Gordon.Youknow,youweresurprisedyourselfattheextraordinarywaythateverybodywhoannoyedyouwasinstantlystruckdown.”
“Therewasareasonforthat.”
“HonoriaWaynfletewasthereason,”saidBridget.“Dogetitintoyourhead,Gordon,thatitwasn’tProvidencethatpushedTommyPierceoutofthewindow,andalltherestofthem.ItwasHonoria.”
LordWhitfieldshookhishead.
“Itallseemstomequiteincredible!”hesaid.
Battlesaid:
“Yousayyougotatelephonemessagethismorning?”
“Yes—abouttwelveo’clock.IwasaskedtogototheShawWoodatonceasyou,Bridget,hadsomethingtosaytome.Iwasnottocomebycarbuttowalk.”
Battlenodded.
“Exactly.Thatwouldhavebeenthefinish.MissConwaywouldhavebeenfoundwithherthroatcut;andbesideheryourknifewithyourfingerprintsonit!Andyouyourselfwouldhavebeenseeninthevicinityatthetime!Youwouldn’thavehadalegtostandupon.Anyjuryintheworldwouldhaveconvictedyou.”
“Me?”saidLordWhitfield,startledanddistressed.“AnyonewouldhavebelievedathinglikethatofMe?”
Bridgetsaidgently:
“Ididn’t,Gordon.Ineverbelievedit.”
LordWhitfieldlookedathercoldly,thenhesaidstiffly:
“Inviewofmycharacterandmystandinginthecounty,Idonotbelievethatanyoneforonemomentwouldhavebelievedinsuchamonstrouscharge!”
Hewentoutwithdignityandclosedthedoorbehindhim.
Lukesaid:
“He’llneverrealizethathewasreallyindanger!”
Thenhesaid:
“Goon,Bridget,tellmehowyoucametosuspecttheWaynfletewoman.”
Bridgetexplained:
“ItwaswhenyouweretellingmethatGordonwasthekiller.Icouldn’tbelieveit!Yousee,Iknewhimsowell.I’dbeenhissecretaryfortwoyears!Iknewhiminandout!Iknewthathewaspompousandpettyandcompletelyself-absorbed,butIknew,too,thathewasakindlypersonandalmostabsurdlytenderhearted.Itworriedhimeventokillawasp.ThatstoryabouthiskillingMissWaynflete’scanary—itwasallwrong.Hejustcouldn’thavedoneit.He’dtoldmeoncethathehadjiltedher.Nowyouinsistedthatitwastheotherwayabout.Well,thatmightbeso!Hispridemightnothaveallowedhimtoadmitthatshehadthrownhimover.Butnotthecanarystory!Thatsimplywasn’tGordon!Hedidn’tevenshootbecauseseeingthingskilledmadehimfeelsick.
“SoIsimplyknewthatthatpartofthestorywasuntrue.Butifso,MissWaynfletemusthavelied.Anditwasreally,whenyoucametothinkofit,averyextraordinarylie!AndIwonderedsuddenlyifshe’dtoldanymorelies.Shewasaveryproudwoman—onecouldseethat.Tobethrownovermusthavehurtherpridehorribly.ItwouldprobablymakeherfeelveryangryandrevengefulagainstLordWhitfield—especially,Ifelt,ifheturnedupagainlaterallrichandprosperousandsuccessful.Ithought,‘Yes,she’dprobablyenjoyhelpingtofixacrimeuponhim.’AndthenacurioussortofwhirlingfeelingcameinmybrainandIthought—butsupposeeverythingshesaysisalie—andIsuddenlysawhoweasilyawomanlikethatcouldmakeafoolofaman!AndIthought,‘It’sfantastic,butsupposeitwasshewhokilledallthesepeopleandfedGordonupwiththeideathatitwasakindofdivineretribution!’Itwouldbequiteeasyforhertomakehimbelievethat.AsItoldyouonce,Gordonwouldbelieveanything!AndIthought,‘Couldshehavedoneallthosemurders?’AndIsawthatshecould!Shecouldgiveashovetoadrunkenman—andpushaboyoutofawindow,andAmyGibbshaddiedinherhouse.Mrs.Horton,too—HonoriaWaynfleteusedtogoandsitwithherwhenshewasill.Dr.Humblebywasmoredifficult.Ididn’tknowthenthatWonkyPoohhadanastysepticearandthatsheinfectedthedressingsheputonhishand.MissPinkerton’sdeathwasevenmoredifficult,becauseIcouldn’timagineMissWaynfletedressedupasachauffeurdrivingaRolls.
“Andthen,suddenly,Isawthatthatwastheeasiestofthelot!Itwastheoldshovefrombehind—easilydoneinacrowd.Thecardidn’tstopandshesawafreshopportunityandtoldanotherwomanshehadseenthenumberofthecar,andgavethenumberofLordWhitfield’sRolls.
“Ofcourse,allthisonlycameveryconfusedlythroughmyhead.ButifGordondefinitelyhadn’tdonethemurders—andIknew—yes,knewthathehadn’t—well,whohad?Andtheanswerseemedquiteclear.‘SomeonewhohatesGordon!’WhohatesGordon?HonoriaWaynflete,ofcourse.
“AndthenIrememberedthatMissPinkertonhaddefinitelyspokenofamanasthekiller.Thatknockedoutallmybeautifultheory,because,unlessMissPinkertonwasright,shewouldn’thavebeenkilled…SoIgotyoutorepeatexactlyMissPinkerton’swordsandIsoondiscoveredthatshehadn’tactuallysaid‘man’once.ThenIfeltthatIwasdefinitelyontherighttrack!IdecidedtoacceptMissWaynflete’sinvitationtostaywithherandIresolvedtotrytoferretoutthetruth.”
“Withoutsayingawordtome?”saidLukeangrily.
“But,mysweet,youweresosure—andIwasn’tsureabit!Itwasallvagueanddoubtful.ButIneverdreamedthatIwasinanydanger.IthoughtI’dhaveplentyoftime….”
Sheshivered.
“Oh,Luke,itwashorrible…Hereyes…Andthatdreadful,polite,inhumanlaugh….”
Lukesaidwithaslightshiver:
“Ishan’tforgethowIonlygottherejustintime.”
HeturnedtoBattle.“What’sshelikenow?”
“Gonerightovertheedge,”saidBattle.“Theydo,youknow.Theycan’tfacetheshockofnothavingbeenascleverastheythoughttheywere.”
Lukesaidruefully:
“Well,I’mnotmuchofapoliceman!IneversuspectedHonoriaWaynfleteonce.You’dhavedonebetter,Battle.”
“Maybe,sir,maybenot.You’llremembermysayingthatnothing’simpossibleincrime.Imentionedamaidenlady,Ibelieve.”
“Youalsomentionedanarchbishopandaschoolgirl!AmItounderstandthatyouconsiderallthesepeopleaspotentialcriminals?”
Battle’ssmilebroadenedtoagrin.
“Anyonemaybeacriminal,sir,that’swhatImeant.”
“ExceptGordon,”saidBridget.“Luke,let’sgoandfindhim.”
TheyfoundLordWhitfieldinhisstudybusilymakingnotes.
“Gordon,”saidBridgetinasmallmeekvoice.“Please,nowthatyouknoweverything,willyouforgiveus?”
LordWhitfieldlookedathergraciously
“Certainly,mydear,certainly.Irealizethetruth.Iwasabusyman.Ineglectedyou.ThetruthofthematterisasKiplingsowiselyputsit:‘Hetravelsthefastestwhotravelsalone.Mypathinlifeisalonelyone.’”Hesquaredhisshoulders.“Icarryabigresponsibility.Imustcarryitalone.Formetherecanbenocompanionship,noeasingoftheburden—Imustgothroughlifealone—tillIdropbythewayside.”
Bridgetsaid:
“DearGordon!Youreallyaresweet!”
LordWhitfieldfrowned.
“Itisnotaquestionofbeingsweet.Letusforgetallthisnonsense.Iamabusyman.”
“Iknowyouare.”
“Iamarrangingforaseriesofarticlestostartatonce.CrimescommittedbyWomenthroughtheAges.”
Bridgetgazedathimwithadmiration.
“Gordon,Ithinkthat’sawonderfulidea.”
LordWhitfieldpuffedouthischest.
“Sopleaseleavemenow.Imustnotbedisturbed.Ihavealotofworktogetthrough.”
LukeandBridgettiptoedfromtheroom.
“Buthereallyissweet!”saidBridget.
“Bridget,Ibelieveyouwerereallyfondofthatman!”
“Doyouknow,Luke,IbelieveIwas.”
Lukelookedoutofthewindow.
“I’llbegladtogetawayfromWychwood.Idon’tlikethisplace.There’salotofwickednesshere,asMrs.Humblebywouldsay.Idon’tlikethewayAsheRidgebroodsoverthevillage.”
“TalkingofAsheRidge,whataboutEllsworthy?”
Lukelaughedalittleshamefacedly.
“Thatbloodonhishands?”
“Yes.”
“They’dsacrificedawhitecockapparently!”
“Howperfectlydisgusting!”
“IthinksomethingunpleasantisgoingtohappentoourMr.Ellsworthy.Battleisplanningalittlesurprise.”
Bridgetsaid:
“AndpoorMajorHortonneverevenattemptedtokillhiswife,andMr.Abbot,Isuppose,justhadacompromisingletterfromalady,andDr.Thomasisjustaniceunassumingyoungdoctor.”
“He’sasuperiorass!”
“Yousaythatbecauseyou’rejealousofhismarryingRoseHumbleby.”
“She’smuchtoogoodforhim.”
“Ialwayshavefeltyoulikedthatgirlbetterthanme!”
“Darling,aren’tyoubeingratherabsurd?”
“No,notreally.”
Shewassilentaminuteandthensaid:
“Luke,doyoulikemenow?”
Hemadeamovementtowardsherbutshewardedhimoff.
“Isaidlike,Luke—notlove.”
“Oh!Isee…Yes,Ido…Ilikeyou,Bridget,aswellaslovingyou.”
Bridgetsaid:
“Ilikeyou,Luke….”
Theysmiledateachother—alittletimidly—likechildrenwhohavemadefriendsataparty.
Bridgetsaid:
“Likingismoreimportantthanloving.Itlasts.Iwantwhatisbetweenustolast,Luke.Idon’twantusjusttoloveeachotherandmarryandgettiredofeachotherandthenwanttomarrysomeoneelse.”
“Oh!mydearLove,Iknow.Youwantreality.SodoI.What’sbetweenuswilllastforeverbecauseit’sfoundedonreality.”
“Isthattrue,Luke?”
“It’strue,mysweet.That’swhy,Ithink,Iwasafraidoflovingyou.”
“Iwasafraidoflovingyou,too.”
“Areyouafraidnow?”
“No.”
Hesaid:
“We’vebeenclosetoDeathforalongtime.Now—that’sover!Now—we’llbegintoLive….”
TheAgathaChristieCollection
THEHERCULEPOIROTMYSTERIES
MatchyourwitswiththefamousBelgiandetective.
TheMysteriousAffairatStylesTheMurderontheLinksPoirotInvestigatesTheMurderofRogerAckroydTheBigFourTheMysteryoftheBlueTrainPerilatEndHouseLordEdgwareDiesMurderontheOrientExpressThreeActTragedyDeathintheCloudsTheA.B.C.MurdersMurderinMesopotamiaCardsontheTableMurderintheMewsDumbWitnessDeathontheNileAppointmentwithDeathHerculePoirot’sChristmasSadCypressOne,Two,BuckleMyShoeEvilUndertheSunFiveLittlePigsTheHollowTheLaborsofHerculesTakenattheFloodTheUnderdogandOtherStoriesMrs.McGinty’sDeadAftertheFuneralHickoryDickoryDockDeadMan’sFollyCatAmongthePigeonsTheClocksThirdGirlHallowe’enPartyElephantsCanRememberCurtain:Poirot’sLastCase
Exploremoreatwww.AgathaChristie.com
TheAgathaChristieCollection
THEMISSMARPLEMYSTERIES
JointhelegendaryspinstersleuthfromSt.MaryMeadinsolvingmurdersfarandwide.
TheMurderattheVicarageTheBodyintheLibraryTheMovingFingerAMurderIsAnnouncedTheyDoItwithMirrorsAPocketFullofRye4:50FromPaddingtonTheMirrorCrack’dfromSidetoSideACaribbeanMysteryAtBertram’sHotelNemesisSleepingMurderMissMarple:TheCompleteShortStories
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
MurderintheMews
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’dfromSidetoSide
ACaribbeanMystery
AtBertram’sHotel
Nemesis
SleepingMurder
MissMarple:TheCompleteShortStories
TheTommyandTuppenceMysteries
TheSecretAdversary
PartnersinCrime
NorM?
BythePrickingofMyThumbs
PosternofFate
Memoirs
AnAutobiography
Come,TellMeHowYouLive
Copyright
Thisbookisaworkoffiction.Thecharacters,incidents,anddialoguearedrawnfromtheauthor’simaginationandarenottobeconstruedasreal.Anyresemblancetoactualeventsorpersons,livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.
ThistitlewaspreviouslypublishedasEasytoKill.
AGATHACHRISTIE?MURDERISEASY?.Copyright?1939AgathaChristieLimited(aChorioncompany).Allrightsreserved.
MURDERISEASY?1939.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.
LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationDataisavailableuponrequest.
ISBN978-0-06-207380-8
EPubEdition?JUNE2011ISBN:978-0-06-211343-6
1112131415
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TableofContents
TitlePage
Dedication
Contents
1.AFellowTraveller
2.ObituaryNotice
3.WitchwithoutBroomstick
4.LukeMakesaBeginning
5.VisittoMissWaynflete
6.HatPaint
7.Possibilities
8.Dr.Thomas
9.Mrs.PierceTalks
10.RoseHumbleby
11.DomesticLifeofMajorHorton
12.PassageofArms
13.MissWaynfleteTalks
14.MeditationsofLuke
15.ImproperConductofaChauffeur
16.ThePineapple
17.LordWhitfieldTalks
18.ConferenceinLondon
19.BrokenEngagement
20.We’reinIt—Together
21.“OWhyDoYouWalkThroughtheFieldsinGloves?”
22.Mrs.HumblebySpeaks
23.NewBeginning
AbouttheAuthor
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