AgathaChristie-TheManInTheBrownSuit
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Hyde Park Hotel. Nadina was still having
lunch. I needn't describe in detail how I
followed her down to Marlow. She went into
the house, and I spoke to the woman at the
lodge, pretending that I was with her. Then
I, too, went in."
He stopped. There was a tense silence.
"You will believe me, Anne, won't you? I
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swear before God that what I am going to say
is true. I went into the house after her with
something very like murder in my heart—and
she was dead! I found her in the first-floor
room—God! It was horrible. Dead—and I was
not more than three minutes behind her. And
there was no sign of anyone else in the house!
Of course I realized at once the terrible
position I was in. By one master-stroke the
blackmailed had rid himself of the
blackmailer, and at the same time had
provided a victim to whom the crime would
be ascribed. The hand of the "Colonel" was
very plain. For the second time I was to be his
victim. Fool that I had been to walk into the
trap so easily!
"I hardly know what I did next. I managed
to go out of the place looking fairly normal,
but I knew that it would not be long before
the crime was discovered and a description of
my appearance telegraphed all over the
country.
"I lay low for some days, not daring to
make a move. In the end, chance came to my
aid. I overheard a conversation between two
middle-aged gentlemen in the street, one of
whom proved to be Sir Eustace Pedler. I at
once conceived the idea of attaching myself to
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him as his secretary. The fragment of
conversation I had overheard gave me my
clue. I was now no longer so sure that Sir
Eustace Pedler was the "Colonel." His house
might have been appointed as a rendezvous
by accident, or for some obscure motive that I
had not fathomed."
"Do you know," I interrupted, "that Guy
Pagett was in Marlow at the date of the
murder?"
"That settles it then. I thought he was at
Cannes with Sir Eustace."
"He was supposed to be in Florence—but
he certainly never went there. I'm pretty
certain he was really in Marlow, but of course
I can't prove it."
"And to think I never suspected Pagett for
a minute until the night he tried to throw you
overboard. The man's a marvellous actor."
"Yes, isn't he?"
"That explains why the Mill House was
chosen. Pagett could probably get in and out
of it unobserved. Of course he made no
objection to my accompanying Sir Eustace
across in the boat. He didn't want me laid by
the heels immediately. You see, evidently
Nadina didn't bring the jewels with her to the
rendezvous, as they had counted on her
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doing. I fancy that Carton really had them
and concealed them somewhere on the
Kilmorden Castle— that's where he came in.
They hoped that I might have some clue as to
where they were hidden. As long as the
"Colonel" did not recover the diamonds, he
was still in danger—hence his anxiety to get
them at all costs. Where the devil Carton hid
them—if he did hide them—I don't know."
"That's another story," I quoted. "My
story. And I'm going to tell it to you now."
to
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27
ARRY listened attentively whilst I
recounted all the events that I have
narrated in these pages. The thing
that bewildered and astonished him most was
to find that all along the diamonds had been
in my possession—or rather in Suzanne's.
That was a fact he had never suspected. Of
course, after hearing his story, I realized the
point of Carton's little arrangement—or
rather Nadina's, since I had no doubt that it
was her brain which had conceived the plan.
No surprise tactics executed against her or
her husband could result in the seizure of the
diamonds. The secret was locked in her own
brain, and the "Colonel" was not likely to
guess that they had been entrusted to the
keeping of an ocean steward!
H
Harry's vindication from the old charge of
theft seemed assured. It was the other graver
charge that paralysed all our activies. For, as
things stood, he could not come out in the
open to prove his case.
The one thing we came back to, again and
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again, was the identity of the "Colonel." Was
he, or was he not. Guy Pagett?
"I should say he was but for one thing,"
said Harry. "It seems pretty much of a
certainty that it was Pagett who murdered
Anita Griinberg at Marlow--and that
certainly lends colour to the supposition that
he is actually the 'Colonel,' since Anita's
business was not of the nature to be discussed
with a subordinate. No--the only thing that
militates against that theory is the attempt to
put you out of the way on the night of your
arrival here. You saw Pagett left behind at
Cape Town--by no possible means could he
have arrived here before the following
Wednesday. He is unlikely to have any
emissaries in this part of the world, and all his
plans were laid to deal with you in Cape
Town. He might, of course, have cabled
instructions to some lieutenant of his in
Johannesburg, who could have joined the
Rhodesian train at Mafeking, but his instructions
would have had to be particularly
definite to allow of that note being written."
We sat silent for a moment, then Harry
went on slowly:
"You say that Mrs. Blair was asleep when
you left the hotel and that you heard Sir
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Eustace dictating to Miss Pettigrew? Where
was Colonel Race?"
"I could not find him anywhere."
"Had he any reason to believe that--you
and I might be friendly with each other?"
"He might have had," I answered thoughtfully,
remembering our conversation on the
way back from Matoppos. "He's a very powerful personality," I continued, "but not
at all my idea of the 'Colonel.' And, anyway, such an idea would be absurd. He's in the
Secret Service."
"How do we know that he is? It's the
easiest thing in the world to throw out a hint
of that kind. No one contradicts it, and the
rumour spreads until everyone believes it as
gospel truth. It provides an excuse for all
sorts of doubtful doings. Anne, do you like
Race?"
"I do--and I don't. He repels me and at the
same time fascinates me; but I know one
thing, I'm always a little a
fraid of him."
"He was in South Africa, you know, at the
time of the Kimberley robbery," said Harry
slowly.
"But it was he who told Suzanne all about
the 'Colonel' and how he had been in Paris
trying to get on his track."
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" Camouflage—of a particularly clever
kind."
"But where does Pagett come in? Is he in
Race's pay?"
"Perhaps," said Harry slowly, "he doesn't
come in at all."
"What?"
"Think back, Anne. Did you ever hear
Pagett's own account of that night on the
Kilmorden?"
"Yes—through Sir Eustace."
I repeated it. Harry listened closely.
"He saw a man coming from the direction
of Sir Eustace's cabin and followed him up on
deck. Is that what he says? Now, who had the
cabin opposite to Sir Eustace? Colonel Race.
Supposing Colonel Race crept up on deck,
and, foiled in his attack on you, fled round
the deck and met Pagett just coming through
the saloon door. He knocks him down and
springs inside, closing the door. We dash
round and find Pagett lying there. How's
that?"
"You forget that he declares positively it
was you who knocked him down."
"Well, suppose that just as he regains
consciousness he sees me disappearing in the
distance? Wouldn't he take it for granted that
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I was his assailant? Especially as he thought
all along it was I he was following?"
"It's possible, yes," I said slowly. "But it
alters all our ideas. And there are other
things."
"Most of them are open to explanation.
The man who followed you in Cape Town
spoke to Pagett, and Pagett looked at his
watch. The man might have merely asked
him the time."
"It was just a coincidence, you mean?"
"Not exactly. There's a method in all this,
connecting Pagett with the affair. Why was
the Mill House chosen for the murder? Was
it because Pagett had been in Kimberley
when the diamonds were stolen? Would he
have been made the scapegoat if I had not
appeared so providentially upon the scene?"
"Then you think he may be entirely
innocent?"
"It looks like it, but, if so, we've got to find
out what he was doing in Marlow. If he's got
a reasonable explanation of that, we're on the
right tack."
He got up.
"It's past midnight. Turn in, Anne, and get
some sleep. Just before dawn I'll take you
over in the boat. You must catch the train at
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Livingstone. I've got a friend there who will
keep you hidden away until the train starts.
You go to Bulawayo and catch the Beira train
there. I can find out from my friend in
Livingstone what's going on at the hotel and
where your friends are now."
"Beira," I said meditatively.
"Yes, Anne, it's Beira for you. This is
man's work. Leave it to me."
We had had a momentary respite from
emotion whilst we talked the situation out,
but it was on us again now. We did not even
look at each other.
"Very well," I said, and passed into the
hut.
I lay down on the skin-covered couch, but I
didn't sleep, and outside I could hear Harry
Rayburn pacing up and down, up and down
through the long dark hours. At last he called
me:
"Come, Anne, it's time to go."
I got up and came out obediently. It was
still quite dark, but I knew that dawn was not
far off.
"We'll take the canoe, not the motorboat----"
Harry began, when suddenly he
stopped dead and held up his hand.
"Hush! What's that?"
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I listened, but could hear nothing. His ears
were sharper than mine, however, the ears of
a man who has lived long in the wilderness.
Presently I heard it too—the faint splash of
paddles in the water coming from the
direction of the right bank of the river and
rapidly approaching our little landing-stage.
We strained our eyes in the darkness, and
could make out a dark blur on the surface of
the water. It was a boat. Then there was a
momentary spurt of flame. Someone had
struck a match. By its light I recognized one
figure, the red-bearded Dutchman of the villa
at Muizenberg. The others were natives.
"Quick—back to the hut."
Harry swept me back with him. He took
down a couple of rifles and a revolver from
the wall.
"Can you load a rifle?"
"I never have. Show me how."
I grasped his instructions well enough. We
closed the door and Harry stood by the
window which overlooked the landing-stage.
The boat was just about to run alongside it.
"Who's that?" called out Harry, in a
ringing voice.
Any doubt we might have had as to our
visitors' intentions was swiftly resolved. A
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hail of bullets splattered round us.
Fortunately neither of us was hit. Harry
raised the rifle. It spat murderously, and
again and again. I heard two groans and a
splash.
"That's given 'em something to think
about," he muttered grimly, as he reached for
the second rifle. "Stand well back, Anne, for
God's sake. And load quickly."
More bullets. One just grazed Harry's
cheek. His answering fire was more deadly
than theirs. I had the rifle reloaded when he
turned for it. He caught me close with his left
arm and kissed me once savagely before he
turned to the window again. Suddenly he
uttered a shout.
"They're going—had enough of it. They're
a good mark out there on the water, and they
can't see how many of us there are. They're
routed for the moment—but they'll come
back. We'll have to get ready for them." He
flung down the rifle and turned to me.
"Anne! You beauty! You wonder! You
little queen! As brave as a lion. Black-haired
witch!"
He caught me in his arms. He kissed my
hair, my eyes, my mouth.
"And now to business," he said, suddenly
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releasing me. "Get out those tins of
paraffin."
I did as I was told. He was busy inside the
hut. Presently I saw him on the roof of the
hut, crawling along with something in his
arms. He rejoined me in a minute or two.
"Go down to the boat. We'll have to carry
it across the island to the other side."
He picked up the paraffin as I disappeared.
"They're coming back," I called softly. I
had seen the blur moving out from the
opposite shore.
He ran down to me.
"Just in time. Why�
�where the hell's the
boat?"
Both had been cut adrift. Harry whistled
softly.
"We're in a tight place, honey. Mind?"
"Not with you."
"Ah, but dying together's not much fun.
We'll do better than that. See—they've got
two boat-loads this time. Going to land at two
different points. Now for my little scenic
effect."
Almost as he spoke a long flame shot up
from the hut. Its light illuminated two
crouching figures huddled together on the
roof.
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"My old clothes—stuffed with rugs—but
they won't tumble to it for some time. Come,
Anne, we've got to try desperate means."
Hand in hand, we raced across the island.
Only a narrow channel of water divided it
from the shore on that side.
"We've got to swim for it. Can you swim at
all, Anne? Not that it matters. I can get you
across. It's the wrong side for a boat—too
many rocks, but the right side for swimming,
and the right side for Livingstone."
"I can swim a little—further than that.
What's the danger. Harry?" For I had seen
the grim look on his face. "Sharks?"
"No, you little goose. Sharks live in the sea.
But you're sharp, Anne. Crocs, that's the
trouble."
"Crocodiles?"
"Yes, don't think of them—or say your
prayers, whichever you feel inclined."
We plunged in. My prayers must have been
efficacious, for we reached the shore without
adventure, and drew ourselves up wet and
dripping on the bank.
"Now for Livingstone. It's rough going,
I'm afraid, and wet clothes won't make it any
better. But it's got to be done."
That walk was a nightmare. My wet skirts
TMITBS 21 315
flapped round my legs, and my stockings
were soon torn off by the thorns. Finally, I
stopped, utterly exhausted. Harry came back
to me.
"Hold up, honey. I'll carry you for a bit."
That was the way I came into Livingstone,
slung across his shoulder like a sack of coals.
How he did it for all that way, I don't know.
The first faint light of dawn was just
breaking. Harry's friend was a young man of
twenty years old who kept a store of native
curios. His name was Ned—perhaps he had
another, but I never heard it. He didn't seem
in the least surprised to see Harry walk in,
dripping wet, holding an equally dripping