seemed to him that this was a good moment when the
subject had arisen naturally.
"This Mrs. Willett," he said casually. "Was she an old
friend or acquaintance of the Captain's?"
"Oh! no, sir, she was quite a stranger to him."
"You are sure of that?" said the Inspector, sharply.
"Well--" the sharpness took the old sailor aback. "The
Capting never actually said so--but--Oh! yes, I'm sure
of it."
"I ask," explained the Inspector, "because it is a very
curious time of year for a let. On the other hand, if this
Mrs. Willett was acquainted with Captain Trevelyan and
knew the house, she might have written to him and
suggested taking it."
Evans shook his head.
"'Twas the agents--Williamsons--that wrote, said they
had an offer from a lady."
Inspector Narracott frowned. He found this business
of the letting of Sittaford House distinctly odd.
38
Murder at Hazelmoor
"Captain Trevelyan and Mrs. Willett met, I suppose2"
he asked. '
"Oh! yes. She came to see the house and he took her
over it."
"And you're positive they hadn't met before?"
"Oh! quite, sir."
"Did they--er--" the Inspector paused, as he tried
to frame the question naturallv. "Did they get on well
together? Were they friendly?;'
"The lady was." A faint smile crossed Evans' lips. "All
over him, as you might say. Admiring the house, and
asking him if he'd planned the building of it. Altogether
laying it on thick, as you might say."
"And the Captain?"
The smile broadened.
"That sort of gushing lady wasn't likely to cut any ice
with him. Polite he was, but nothing more. And declined
her invitations."
"Invitations?"
"Yes, to consider the house as his own any time, and
drop in, that's how she put/t--drop in. You don't drop
in to a place when you're living six miles away."
"She seemed anxious to--well--to see something of
the Captain?"
Narracott was wondering. Was that the reason for the
taking of the house? Was it only a prelude to the making
of Captain Trevelyan's acquaintance? Was that the real
game? It would probably not have occurred to her that
the Captain would have gone as far as Exhampton to live.
She might have calculated on his moving into one of the
39
Agatha Christie
small bungalows, perhaps sharing Major Burnaby's.
Evans' answer was not very helpful.
"She's a very hospitable lady, by all accounts. Someone
in to lunch or dinner every day."
Narracott nodded. He could learn no more here. But
he determined to seek an interview with this Mrs. Willett
at an early date. Her abrupt arrival needed looking into.
"Come on, Pollock, we'll go upstairs now," he said.
They left Evans in the dining-room and proceeded to
the upper story.
"All right, do you think?" asked the Sergeant in a low
voice, jerking his head over his shoulder in the direction
of the closed dining-room door.
"He seems so," said the Inspector. "But one never
knows. He's no fool, that fellow, whatever else he is." "No, he's an intelligent sort of chap."
"His story seems straightforward enough," went on
the Inspector. "Perfectly clear and above board. Still, as
I say, one never knows."
And with this pronouncement, very typical of his careful
and suspicious mind, the Inspector proceeded to search
the rooms on the first floor.
There were three bedrooms and a bathroom. Two of
the bedrooms were empty and had clearly not been entered
for some weeks. The third, Captain Trevelyan's
own room, was in exquisite and apple-pie order. Inspector
Narracott moved about in it, opening drawers
and cupboards. Everything was in its right place. It was
the room of a man almost fanatically tidy and neat in his
habits. Narracott finished his inspection and glanced into
the adjoining bathroom. Here, too, everything was in
40
Murder at Hazelmoor
order. He gave a last glance at the bed, neatly turned
down, with folded pajamas laid ready.
Then he shook his head.
"Nothing here," he said.
"No, everything seems in perfect order."
"There are the papers in the desk in the study. You
had better go through those, Pollock. I'll tell Evans that
he can go. I may call round and see him at his own place
later."
"Very good, sir."
"The body can be removed. I shall want to see Warren,
by the way. He lives near here, doesn't he?"
"Yes, sir."
"This side of the Three Crowns or the other?"
"The other, sir."
"Then I'll take the Three Crowns first. Carry on, Ser-geant."
Pollock went to the dining-room to dismiss Evans. The
Inspector passed out of the front door and walked rapidly
in the direction of the Three Crowns.
41
6. At the Three Crowns
I S P E C T O R Narracott was not destined to see Major
Burnaby until he had had a protracted interview with
Mrs. Belling--licensed proprietor of the Three Crowns.
Mrs. Belling was fat and excitable, and so voluble that
there was nothing to be done but to listen patiently until
Stch time as the stream of conversation should dry up.
"And such a night as never was," she ended up. "And
little did any of us think what was happening to the poor
dear gentleman. Those nasty tramps--if I've said it once,
I've said it a dozen times, I can't abear those nasty tramps.
Do anybody in they would. The Captain had not so much
as a dog to protect him. Can't abear a dog, tramps can't.
Ah, well, you never know what is happening within a
Stone's throw.
"Yes, Mr. Narracott," she proceeded in answer to his
qaestion, "the Major is having his breakfast now. You
will find him in the coffee-room. And what kind of a
night he has passed with no pajamas or anything, and
e a widow woman with nothing to lend him, I can't
S4y, I am sure. Said it made no matter he did--all upset
arid queer he was--and no wonder with his best friend
murdered. Very nice gentlemen the two of them, though
the Captain had the reputation of being close with his
oney. Ah, well, well, I have always thought it dan-gerous
to live up to Sittaford, iniles away from anywhere,
arid here's the Captain struck down in Exhampton itself.
Murder at Hazelmoor
It's always what you don't expect in this life that happens,
isn't it, Mr. Narracott?"
The Inspector said that undoubtedly it was. Then he
added:
"Who did you have staying here yesterday, Mrs. Bell-ing?
Any strangers?"
"Now, let me see. There was Mr. Moresby and Mr.
Jones--commercial gentlemen they are, and there was
ayoung gentleman from London. Nobody else. It stands
to reason
there wouldn't be this time of year. Very quiet
here in the winter. Oh, and there was another young
gentleman--arrived by the last train. Nosy young fellow
I call him. He isn't up yet."
"The last train?" said the Inspector. "That gets in at
ten o'clock, eh? I don't think we need trouble ourselves
about him. What about the other--the one from Lon-don?
Did you know him?"
"Never seen him before in my life. Not a commercial
gentleman, oh, no--a cut above that. I can't remember
his name for the moment--but you'll find it in the reg-ister.
Let on the first train to Exeter this morning, he
did. Six ten. Rather curious. What did he want down
here anyway, that's what I'd like to know."
"He didn't mention his business?"
"Not a word."
"Did he go out at all?"
"Arrived at lunch time, went.out about half past fbur
and came in about twenty past six."
"Where did he go when he went out?"
"I haven't the remotest idea, sir. May have been just
for a stroll like. That was before the snow came, but it
43
Agatha Christie
wasn't what you might call a pleasant day for walking."
"Went out at half past four and returned about twenty
past six," said the Inspector thoughtfully. "That's rather
odd. He didn't mention Captain Trevelyan?"
Mrs. Belling shook her head decisively.
"No, Mr. Narracott, he didn't mention anybody at all.
Kept himself to himself he did. A nice looking young
fellow--but worried, I should say."
The Inspector nodded and stepped across to inspect
the register.
"James Pearson, London," said the Inspector. "Well
--that doesn't tell us much. We'll have to make a few
inquiries about Mr. James Pearson."
Then he strode off to the coffee-room in search of
Major Burnaby.
The Major was the only occupant of the room. He was
drinking some rather muddy looking coffee and the Times
was propped up in front of him.
"Major Burnaby?"
"That's my name."
"I am Inspector Narracott from Exeter."
"Good morning, Inspector. Any forrarder?"
"Yes, sir. I think we are a little forrarder. I think I can
safely say that."
"Glad to hear it," said the Major drily. His attitude
was one of resigned disbelief.
"Now there are just one or two points I would like
some information on, Major Burnaby," said the Inspec-tor,
"and I think you can probably tell me what I want
to know."
"Do what I can," said Burnaby.
44
Murder at Hazelmoor
"Had Captain Trevelyan any enemies to your knowl-edge?''
"Not an enemy in the world." Burnaby was decisive.
"This man, Evans--do you yourself consider him
trustworthy?"
"Should think so. Trevelyan trusted him I know."
"There was no ill feeling about this marriage of his?"
"Not ill feeling, no. Trevelyan was annoyed--didn't
like his habits upset. Old bachelor, you know."
"Talking of bachelors, that's another point. Captain
Trevelyan was unmarried--do you know if he made a
will? And in the event of there being no will, have you
any idea who would inherit his estate?"
"Trevelyan made a will," said Burnaby promptly.
"Ah--you know that."
"Yes. Made me executor. Told me so."
"Do you know how he left his money?"
"That I can't say."
"I understand he was very comfortably off?."
"Trevelyan was a rich man," replied Burnaby. "I should
say he was much better off than anyone round here sus-pected."
"What relations had he--do you know?"
"He'd a sister and some nephews and nieces I believe.
Never saw much of any of them, but there was no quar
"About
this will, do you know where he kept it?"
"It's at Walters & Kirkwood--the solicitors here in
Exhampton. They drew it up for him."
"Then, perhaps, Major Burnaby, as you are executor,
I wonder if you would come round to Walters & Kirk
45
Agatha Christie
wood with me now. I should like to have an idea of the
contents of that will as soon as possible."
Burnaby looked up alertly.
"What's in the wind?" he said. "What's the will got to
do with it?"
Inspector Narracott was not disposed to show his hand
too soon.
"The case isn't such plain sailing as we thought," he
said. "By the way, there's another question I want to ask
you. I understand, Major Burnaby, that you asked Dr.
Warren whether death had occurred at five and twenty
minutes past five?"
"Well," said the Major gruffly.
"What made you select that exact time, Major?"
"Why shouldn't I?" said Burnaby.
"Well--something must have put it into your head."
There was quite a pause before Major Burnaby re-plied.
Inspector Narracott's interest was aroused. The
Major had something which he quite patently wished to
conceal. To watch him doing so was almost ludicrous.
"Why shouldn't I say twenty-five past five?" he de-manded
truculently, "or twenty-five to six--or twenty
past four, for that matter?"
"Quite so, sir," said Inspector Narracott soothingly.
He did not wish to antagonize the Major just at this
moment. He promised himself that he would get to the
bottom of the matter before the day was out.
"There's one thing that strikes me as curious, sir," he
went on.
"Yes?"
"This business of the letting of Sittaford House. I don't
46
Murder at Hazelmoor
know what you think about it, but it seems to me a
curious thing to have happened."
"If you ask me," said Burnaby, "it's damned odd."
"That's your opinion?"
"It's everyone's opinion."
"In Sittaford?"
"In SittaIbrd and Exhampton too. The woman must
be mad."
"Well, I suppose there's no accounting for tastes," said
the Inspector.
"Damned odd taste for a woman of that kind."
"You know the lady?"
"I know her. Why, I was at her house when--"
"When what?" asked Narracott as the Major came to
an abrupt halt.
"Nothing," said Burnaby.
Inspector Narracott looked at him keenly. There was
something here he would have liked to get at. The Major's
obvious confusion and embarrassment did not escape
him. He had been on the point of saying--what?
"All in good time," said Narracott to himself. "Now
isn't the moment to rub him up the wrong way."
Aloud he said innocently:
"You were at Sittaford House, you say, sir. The lady
has been there now--about how long?"
"A couple of months."
The Major was eager to escape the result of his imprudent
words. It made him more loquacious than usual.
"A widow lady with her daughter?"
"That's it."
47
Agatha Christie
"Does she give any reason for her choice of residence?"
"Well--" the Major rubbed his nose dubiously. "She
talks a lot, she's that kind of woman--beauties of
nature--out of the world--that sort of thing. But--"
He paused rather helplessly. Inspector Narracott came
to his rescue.
"It didn't strike you as natural on her part."
"Well, it's like this. She's a fashionable sort of woman.
Dressed up to the nines--daughter's a smart, pretty girl.
Natural thing would be for them to be staying at the Ritz
or Claridges, or some other big hotel somewhere. You
know the sort."
Narracott nodded.
"They don't keep themselves to themselves, do they?"
he asked. "You don't think they are--well--hiding?"
Major Burnaby shook his head positively.
"Oh! no, nothing of that kind. They're very sociable
--a bit too sociable. I mean, in a little place like Sittaford,
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