Christie,Agatha - Murder At Hazelmore.doc
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"Not that I know of," the nurse looked somewhat sur-prised.
"You were with him all the afternoon?"
"I intended to be, but, well--as a matter of fact, Cap-tain
Gardner was very anxious for me to change two
books for him at the library. He had forgotten to ask his
wife before she went out. So, to oblige him I went out
with them, and he asked me at the same time to get one
or two other little things for him--presents for his wife
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Murder at Hazelmoor
as a matter of fact. Very nice about it he was, and told
me I was to have tea at his expense at Boots. He said
nurses never liked missing their tea. His little joke, you
know. I didn't get out until past four, and what with the
shops being so full just before Christmas, and one thing
and another, I didn't get back until after six, but the
poor fellow had been quite comfortable. In fact, he told
me he had been asleep most of the time."
"Mrs. Gardner was back by then?"
"Yes, I believe she was lying down."
"She's very devoted to her husband, isn't she?"
"She worships him. I really do believe that woman
would do anything in the world for him. Quite touching,
and very different from some of the cases I have at-tended.
Why, only last month--"
But Inspector Narracott fended off the impending
scandal of last month with considerable skill. He glanced
at his watch and gave a loud exclamation.
"Goodness gracious," he cried, "I shall miss my train.
The station is not far away, is it?"
"St. David's is only three minute' walk, if it's St.
David's you want, or did you mean Queen Street?"
"I must run," said the Inspector, "tell Mrs. Gardner
I am sorry not to have seen her to say good-by. Very
pleased to have had this little chat with you, nurse."
The nurse bridled ever so slightly.
"Rather a good-looking man," she said to herself as
the front door shut after the Inspector. "Really quite
good-looking. Such a nice sympathetic manner."
And with a slight sigh she went upstairs to her patient.
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10. The Pearson Family
I N S P E C T O R Narracott's next move was to report to his superior, Superintendent Maxwell.
The latter listened with interest to the Inspector's narrative.
"It's going to be a big case," he said thoughtfully.
"There'll be headlines in the papers over this."
"I agree with you, sir."
"We've got to be careful. We don't want to make any
mistake. But I think you're on the right tack. You must
get after this James Pearson as soon as possible--find
out where he was yesterday afternoon. As you say, it's
a common enough name, but there's the Christian name
as well. Of course, his signing his own name openly like
that shows there wasn't any premeditation about it. He'd
hardly have been such a fool otherwise. It looks to me
like a quarrel and a sudden blow. If it is the man, he
must have heard of his uncle's death that night. And if
so, why did he sneak off by the six train in the morning
without a word to anyone? No, it looks bad. Always
granting that the whole thing's not a coincidence. You
must clear that up as quickly as possible."
"That's what I thought, sir. I'd better take the .45 to
town. Some time or other I want to have a word with
this Willett woman who rented the Captain's house.
There's something fishy there. But I can't get to Sittaford
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Murder at Hazelmoor
at present, the roads are impassable with snow. And
anyway, she can't have any direct connection with the
crime. She and her daughter were actually--well--table
turning at the time the crime was committed. And, by
the way, rather a queer thing happened--"
'The Inspector narrated the story he had heard
Major Burnaby.
"That's a rum go," ejaculated the Superintendent.
"Think this old fellow was telling the truth? That's the
sort of story that gets cooked up afterwards by those
believers in spooks and things of that kind."
"I tancy it's true all right," said Narracott with a grin.
"I had a lot of difficulty getting it out of him. He's not a
believer--just the opposite--old soldier, all damned
nonsense attitude."
The Superintendent nodded his comprehension.
"Well, it's odd, but it doesn't get us anywhere," was
his conclusion.
"Then I'll take the .45 to London."
The other nodded.
On arrival in town Narracott went straight to a! Crom-well
Street. Mr. Pearson, he was told, was at the office.
He would be back for certain about seven o'clock.
Narracott nodded carelessly as though the information
were of no value to him.
"I'll call back if I can," he said. "It's nothing of im-portance,''
and departed quickly without leaving a name.
He decided not to go to the Insurance Office, but to
visit Wimbledon instead and have an interview with Mrs.
Martin Dering, formerly Miss Sylvia Pearson.
Agatha Chriistie
There were no signs of shabb,iness about The Nook.
"New and shoddy," was how Inspector Narra¢ott de-scribed
it to himself.
Mrs. Dering was at home. A rtther pert-looking maid
dressed in lilac color showed him into a rather over-crowded
drawing-room. He gave her his official card to
take to her mistress.
Mrs. Dering came to him almost immediately, his card
in her hand.
"I suppose you have come abo ut poor Uncle Joseph,"
was her greeting. "It's shocking--really shocking! I aR
so dreadfully nervous of burglars myself. I had two extra
bolts put on the back door last week, and new pateat
catches on the windows."
Sylvia Dering, the Inspector krew from Mrs. Gardner,
was only twenty-five, but she looked considerably Over
thirty. She was small and fair anal anemic looking, with
a worried and harassed expression. Her voice had that
faintly complaining note in it which is about the most
annoying sound a human voice can contain, still not
allowing the Inspector to speak she went on:
"If there's anything I can do to help you in any way,
of course, I shall be only too glad to do so, but one
hardly ever saw Uncle Joseph. He wasn't a very nice
man--I am sure he couldn't have been. Not the sort
of person one could go to in trouble, always carping
and criticizing. Not the sort of man who had any
knowledge of what literature meant. Success--true
success is not always measured in terms of money,
Inspector."
At last she paused and theInspector, to whom those
Murder ct Hazelmoor
remarks had opened certain fields of conjecturel was
given his turn to speak. '
"You've heard of the tragedy very quickly, Mrs. Der-ing."
"Aunt Jennifer wired it to me."
"I see."
"But I suppose it will be in the evening papers. Dread-ful,
; isn't it?"
"I gather you've not seen your uncle of late years."
"I have only seen hina twice since rny marriage. On
the second occasion he was really very rude to Martin.
Of course, he was a regular philistine in every way--devoted
to sport. No appreciation, as I said just now, of
literature."
"Husband applied to him for a loan and got refused,"
was Inspector Narracott's private comment on the situ-ation.
"Just as a matter of form, Mrs. Dering, will you tell
me what your movements were yesterday afternoon?"
"My movements? What a very queer way of putting
it, Inspector. I played bridge most of the afternoon and
a friend came in and spent the evenirg wit me, as my
husband was out."
"Out, was he? Away from home altogether?"
"A literary dinner," explained Mrs. Dering with im-portance.
"He lunched with an American publisher and
had this dinner in the evening."
"I see."
That seemed quite fair and above board. He went on.
"Your younger brother is in Australia, I believe, Mrs.
Dering?"
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Agatha Christie
"¥s.'
"You have his address?"
"Oh, yes, I can find it for you if you wish--rather a
peculiar name--I've forgotten it for the minute. Some-where
in New South Wales."
"And now, Mrs. Dering, your elder brother?"
"Jim?"
"Yes. I shall want to get in touch with him."
Mrs. Dering hastened to supply him with the address
--the same as that which Mrs. Gardner had already given
him.
Then, feeling there was no more to be said on either
side, he cut the interview short.
Glancing at his watch, he noted that by the time he
had returned to town it would be seven o'clock--a likely
time, he hoped, for finding Mr. James Pearson at home.
The same superior looking, middle-aged woman opened
the door of No. 2. Yes, Mr. Pearson was at home now.
It was on the second floor, if the gentleman would
walk up.
She preceded him, tapped at a door, and in a mur-mured
and apologetic voice said: "The gentleman to see
you, sir." Ten, standing back allowed the Inspector to
enter.
A young man in evening dress was standing in the
middle of the room. He was good-looking, indeed hand-some,
if you took no account of the rather weak mouth
and the irresolute slant of the eyes. He had a haggard,
worried look and an air of not having had much sleep of
late.
Murder at Hazelmoor
He looked inquiringly at the Inspector as the latter
advanced.
"I am Detective InspEctor Narracott," he began--but
got no further.
With a hoarse cry the young man dropped on to a
chair, flung his arms out in front of him on the table,
bowing his head on them and muttering:
"Oh! my God! It's come."
After a minute or two he lifted his head and said,
"Well, why don't you get on with it, man?"
Inspector Narracott looked exceedingly stolid and unintelligent.
"I am investigating the death of your uncle, Captain
Joseph Trevelyan. May I ask you, sir, if you have anything
to say?"
The young man rose slowly to his feet and said in a Low strained voice:
"Are you--arresting me?"
"No, sir, I am not. If I was arresting you I would give
you the customary caution. I am simply asking you to
account for your movements yesterday afternoon. You
may reply to my questions or not as you see fit."
"And if I don't reply to them--it will tell against me.
Oh, yes, I know your little ways. You've found out then
that I was down there yesterday?"
"You signed your name in the hotel register, Mr. Pear-
SOYI."
"Oh, I suppose there's no use denying it. I was there--why shouldn't I be?"
"Why indeed?" said the Inspector mildly.
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Agatha Christie
"I went down there to see my uncle."
"By appointment?"
"What do you mean, by appointment?"
"Did your uncle know you were coming?"
"I--no--he didn't. It--it was a sudden impulse."
"No reason for it?"
"I--reason? No--no, why should there be? I--I just
wanted to see my uncle."
"Quite so, sir. And you did see him?"
There was a pause--a very long pause. Indecision was
written on every feature of the young man's face. In-spector
Narracott felt a kind of pity as he watched him.
Couldn't the boy see that his palpable indecision was as
good as an admission of the fact?
At last Jim Pearson drew a deep breath. "I--I suppose
I had better make a clean breast of it. Yes--I did see
him. I asked at the station how I could get to Sittaford.
They told me it was out of the question. The roads were
impassable for any vehicle. I said it was urgent."
"Urgent?" murmured the Inspector.
"I--I wanted to see my uncle very much."
"So it seems, sir."
"The porter continued to shake his head and say that
it was impossible. I mentioned my uncle's name and at
once his face cleared up, and he told me my uncle was
actually in Exhampton, and gave me full directions as to
how to find the house he had rented."
"This was at what time, sir?"
"About one o'clock, I think. I went to the Inn--the
Three Crowns--booked a room and had some lunch there.
Murder at Hazelmoor
Then afterwards I--I went out to see my uncle."
"Immediately afterwards?"
"No, not immediately."
"What time was it?"
"Well, I couldn't say for certain."
"Half past three? Four o'clock? Half past four?"
"I--I--" he stammered worse than ever. "I don't think
it could have been as late as that."
"Mrs. Belling, the proprietress, said you went out at
half past four."
"Did I? I--I think she's wrong. It couldn't have been
as late as that."
"What happened next?"
"I found my uncle's house, had a talk with him and
came back to the Inn."
"How did you get into your uncle's house?"
"I rang the bell and he opened the door to me himself."
"Wasn't he surprised to see you?"
"Yes--yes--he was rather surprised."
"How long did you remain with him, Mr. Pearson?"
"A quarter of an hour--twenty minutes. But look here,
he was perfectly all right when I left him. Perfectly all
right. I swear it."
"And what time did you leave him?"
The young man lowered his eyes. Again, the hesitation
was palpable in his tone, "I don't know exactly."
"I think you do, Mr. Pearson."
The assured tone had its effect. The boy replied in a
low tone.
"It was a quarter past five."
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Agatha Christie
"You returned to the Three Crowns at a quarter to
six. At most it could only take you seven or eight minutes
to walk over from your uncle's
house."
"I didn't go straight back. I walked about the town."
"In that icy weather--in the snow!"
"It wasn't actually snowing then. It came on to snow
later."
"I see. And what was the nature of your conversation
with your uncle?"
"Oh! nothing in particular. I--I just wanted to talk to
the old boy, look him up, that sort of thing, you know."
"He's a poor liar," thought Inspector Narracott to himself.
"Why, I could manage better than that myself."
Aloud he said:
"Very good, sir. Now, may I ask you why, on hearing
of your uncle's murder, you left Exhampton without disclosing
your relationship to the murdered man?"
"I was scared," said the young man frankly. "I heard
he had been murdered round about the time I left him.
Now, dash it all, that's enough to scare anyone, isn't it?