were expected to give way.
"Well, one mustn't sag at the knees," said Emily. "I
hope you don't mind very much. I mean, it must be
175
Agatha Christie
awkward for you to be associated with a family that has
got a murder in it."
"It's very unpleasant, of course," said Nurse Davis
unbending at this proof of consideration. "But one's duty
to one's patient comes before everything."
"How splendid," said Emily. "It must be wonderful
for Aunt Jennifer to feel she has somebody upon whom
she can rely."
"Oh, really," said the Nurse simpering, "you are too
kind. But, of course, I have had curious experiences
before this. Why, at the last case I attended--" Emily
listened patiently to a long and scandalous anecdote com
prising complicated divorce and paternity questions. After
complimenting Nurse Davis on her tact, discretion
and savoir faire, Emily slid back to the topic of the
Gardners.
"I don't know Aunt Jennifer's husband at all,' she said.
"I've never met him. He never goes away from home,
does he?"
"No, poor fellow."
"What exactly is the matter with him?"
Nurse Davis embarked on the subject with professional
gusto.
"So, really he might get well again any minute," Emily
murmured thoughtfully.
"He would be terribly weak," said the Nurse.
"Oh, of course. But it makes it seem more hopeful,
doesn't it?"
The Nurse shook her head with firm professional despondency.
"I don't suppose there will be any cure in his case."
76
Murder at Hazelmoor
Emily had copied down in her little notebook the time-table
of what she called Aunt Jennifer's alibi. She now
murmured tentatively:
"How queer it seems to think that Aunt Jennifer was
actually at the Pictures when her brother was being killed."
"Very sad, isn't it?" said Nurse Davis. "Of course, she
couldn't tell--but it gives one such a shock afterwards."
Emily cast about in her mind to find out what she
wanted to know without asking a direct question.
"Didn't she have some queer kind of vision or pre-monition?"
she inquired. "Wasn't it you who met her in
the hall when she came in and exclaimed that she looked
quite queer?"
"Oh, no," said the Nurse. "It wasn't me. I didn't see
her until we were sitting down to dinner together, and
she seemed quite her ordinary self then. How very in-teresting.''
"I expect I am mixing it up with something else," said
Emily.
"Perhaps it was some other relation," suggested Nurse
Davis. "I came in rather late myself. I felt rather guilty
about leaving my patient so long, but he himself had
urged me to go."
She suddenly looked at her watch.
"Oh, dear. He asked me for another hot water bottle.
I must see about it at once. Will you excuse me, Miss
Trefusis?"
Emily excused her and going over to the fireplace she
put her finger on the bell.
The slipshod maid came with rather a frightened face.
"What's your name?" said Emily.
177
.4gatha Christie
"Beatrice, Miss."
"Oh, Beatrice, I rday not be able to wait to see my
er all--I wanted to ask her about
aunt--Mrs Gardner,
·
'it{ on Friday. Do you know if she
some shopping she d .......
brought a big parcel back with her.e
"No, Miss, I didn't see her come in."
"I thought you said he came in at six o'clock."
,
. J I didn't see her come in, but
'Yes, Miss, she did'
-,ac hot water to her room at seven
when I went to take so'r
· .
h0ck to hnd her lying in the dark
o'clock it gave me a '"
Va,am,' I said to her, 'You gave me
the
bed.
on
,,
e in quite a long time ago. At six
quite a shock· I ca.n't see a big parcel anywhere,"
o'clock,' she said· I dw
, t.d
hardest to be helpful.
saict Beatrice trying t,
t, thought Emily· "One has to
"It's all very diffictt
·
' ·s. I we already invented a premon ]iennat
; ? Y tah;cnegl, lut sO far as I can see °ne has tO
.g.P . ,Oe doesn't want to sound suspi
invent
something n ,,
,
, ,aetly anu SalCl:
claus." he smitect sw
"That's all right, Beatrice,
it
doesn't
matter."
Beatrice left the rd00' Emily took a small local time-and
consulted it.
table out of her handbaavid,s, three ten," she mur-
"Leave Exeter, St,
oton, three forty-two. Time al-
mured, "Arrive ExhaWr , .
other s house and murdering him
lowed for going to br
how beastly and c0ld'tl°°ded it sounds--and such
an hour to three quarters. What
half
nonsenSeare the trainst°°saYbaek? 2,bere-s one at four twenty-five and
there's one Mr. DacreS mentioned at six ten, that gets
in at twenty-three riotes to seven. Yes, it's actually
possible either way. It'S a pity there's nothing to suspect
78
Murder at Hazelmoor
the Nurse for. She was out all the afternoon and 0body
knows where she was. But you can't have arurdeovith'
out any motive at all, Of course, I don't redly believe
anybody in this house murdered Captain Trevelybut
in a way it's comforting to know that they could have.
Hello--there's the front door."
There was a murmur of voices in the hall aad the door
opened and Jennifer Gardner came into the from.
"I'm Emily Trefusis," said Emily. "You kno''-'-the
one who is engaged to Jim Pearson."
"So you are Emily," said Mrs. Gardner shakinglands'
"Well, this is a surprise."
Suddenly Enily felt very weak and small. Bather like
a little girl in the act of doing something very sillY' An
extraordinary person, Aunt Jennifer. Charaeter--tlat was
what it was. Aunt Jennifer had about enough character
for two and three quarter people instead of one.
"Have you had tea, my dear? No? Then We'll have it
here. Just a moment--I must go up and see Bobert {irst."
A strange expression flitted over her face as she mere
tioned her husband's name. The hard, beautiful voice
softened. It was like a light passing over dark ripples
water.
"She does adore him," thought Emily left done in
drawing-room. "All the same there's sm'nething fright/
ening about Aunt Jennifer. I wonder iF u0cle B°berl
likes being adored quite as nuch as that."
oi
When Jennifer Gardner returned, she had talen
her hat. Emily admired the smooth sweep of the haii
back from her forehead.
; "Do you want to talk about things, IErnily, or d°n'l
179
Agatha Christie
"Beatrice, Miss."
"Oh, Beatrice, I may not be able to wait to see my
aunt--Mrs. Gardner, after all--I wanted to ask her about
some shopping she did on Friday. Do you know if she
brought a big parcel back with her?"
"No, Miss, I didn't see her come in."
"I thought you said she came in at six o'clock."
"Yes, Miss, she did, I didn't see her come in, but
when I went to take some hot water to her room at seven
o'clock it gave me a shock to find her lying in the dark
on the bed. 'Well, ma'am,' I said to her, 'You gave me
quite a shock.' 'I came in quite a long time ago. At six
o'clock,' she said. I didn't see a big parcel anywhere,"
said Beatrice trying her hardest to be helpful.
"It's all very difficult," thought Emily. "One has to
invent so many things. I've already invented a premon-ition
and a big parcel, but so far as I can see one has to
invent something if one doesn't want to sound suspi-cious.''
She smiled sweetly and said:
"That's all right, Beatrice, it doesn't matter."
Beatrice left the room. Emily took a small local time-table
out of her handbag and consulted it.
"Leave Exeter, St. David's, three ten," she mur-mured,
"Arrive Exhampton, three forty-two. Time al-lowed
for going to brother's house and murdering him
--how beastly and cold-blooded it sounds--and such
nonsense too--say half an hour to three quarters. What
are the trains back? There's one at four twenty-five and
there's one Mr. Dacres mentioned at six ten, that gets
in at twenty-three minutes to seven. Yes, it's actual]y
possible either way. It's a pity there's nothing to suspect
178
Murder at Hazelmoor
the Nurse for. She was out all the afternoon and nobody
knows where she was. But you can't have a murder within
out any motive at all. Of course, I don't really believe
anybody in this house murdered Captain Trevelyan but
in a way it's comforting to know that they could have.
Hello--there's the front door."
There was a murmur of voices in the hall and the door
opened and Jennifer Gardner came into the room.
"I'm Emily Trefusis," said Emily. "You know--the
one who is engaged to Jim Pearson."
"So you are Emily," said Mrs. Gardner shaking hands.
"Well, this is a surprise."
Suddenly Emily felt very weak and small. Rather like
a little girl in the act of doing something very silly. An
extraordinary person, Aunt Jennifer. Character--that was
what it was. Aunt Jennifer had about enough character
for two and three quarter people instead of one.
"Have you had tea, my dear? No? Then we'll have it
here. Just a moment--I must go up and see Robert first."
A strange expression flitted over her face as she mentioned
her husband's name. The hard, beautiful voice
softened. It was like a light passing over dark ripples of
water.
"She does adore him," thought Emily left alone in the
drawing-room. "All the same there's something frightening
about Aunt Jennifer. I wonder if Unele Robert
likes being adored quite as much as that.'
When Jennifer Gardner returned, she had taken off
her hat. Emily admired the smooth sweep of the hair
back from her forehead.
"Do you want to talk about things, Emily, or don't
179
Agatha Christie
you? If you don't I shall quite understand."
"It isn't much good talking about them, is it?"
"We can only hope," said Mrs. Gardner, "that they
will find the real murderer quickly. Just press the bell,
will you, Emily? I'll send Nurse's tea up to her. I don't
want her chattering down here. How I hate hospital
nurses."
"Is she a good one?"
"I suppose she is. Bobert says she is anyway. I dislike
her intensely and always have. But Bobert says she's far
and away the best nurse we've had."
"She's rather good-looking," said Emily.
"Nonsense. With her ugly beefy hands?"
Emily watched her aunt's long white fingers as they
touched the milk jug and the sugar tongs.
Beatrice came, took the cup of tea and a plate of eatables
and left the room.
"Robert has been very upset over all this," said Mrs.
Gardner. "He works himself into such curious states. I
suppose it's all part of his illness really."
"He didn't know Captain Trevelyan well, did he?"
Jennifer Gardner shook her head.
"He neither knew him nor cared about him. To be
honest, I, myself can't pretend any great sorrow over his
death. He was a cruel grasping man, Emily. He knew
the struggle we have had. The poverty! He knew that a
loan of money at the right tine might have given Robert
special treatment that would have made all the difference.
Well, retribution has overtaken him."
She spoke in a deep brooding voice.
"What a strange woman she is," thought Emily. "Beau180
Her face was glowing, lit up as though by a lamp.
Emily was tired. She had had a long day, little or
nothing to eat, and she was worn out by suppressed
emotion. The room kept going away and coming back
again.
"Aren't you feeling well, dear?"
"It's all right," gasped Emily, and to her own surprise,
annoyance and humiliation burst into tears.
Mrs. Gardner did not attempt to rise and console her,
for which Emily was grateful. She just sat silently until
Emily's tears should subside. She murmured in a
thoughtful voice:
"Poor child. It's very unlucky that Jim Pearson should
have been arrested--very unlucky. I wish--something
could be done about it."
Conversations
L E IF T to his own devices Charles Enderby did not relax
his efforts. To familiarize hinself with life as lived in
Sittaford village he had only to turn on Mrs. Curtis much
as you would turn on the tap of a hydrant. Listening
slightly dazed to a stream of anecdote, reminiscence,
rumors, surmise and meticulous detail he endeavored
valiantly to sift the grain from the chaff. He then mentioned
another name and immediately the force of the
water was directed in that direction. He heard all about
Captain Wyatt, his tropical temper, his rudeness, his
quarrels with his neighbors, his occasional amazing graciousness,
usually to personable young wonen. The life
he led his Indian servant, the peculiar times he had his
meals and the exact diet that composed them. He heard
about Mr. Rycroft's library, his hair tonics, his insistence
on strict tidiness and punctuality, his inordinate curiosity
over other people's doings, his recent selling of a few
old prized personal possessions, his inexplicable fondness
for birds, and the prevalent idea that Mrs. Willett was
setting her cap at him. He heard about Miss Percehouse
&nb
sp; and her tongue and the way she bullied her nephew,
and of the rumors of the gay life that same nephew led
in London. He heard all over again of Major Burnaby's
friendship with Captain Trevelyan, their reminiscences
of the past and their fondness for chess. He heard every-
8z
Murder at Hazelmoor
thing that was known about the Willetts, including the
belief that Miss Violet Willett was leading on Mr. Ronnie
Garfield and that she didn't really mean to have him. It
was hinted that she made mysterious excursions to the
moor and that she had been seen walking there with a young man. And it was doubtless for that reason, so
Mrs. Curtis had surmised, that they had come to this
desolate spot. Her mother had taken her right away, "to
get right over it like." But there--"girls can be far more
artful than ladies ever dream of." About Mr. Duke, there
was curiously little to hear. He had been there only a
short time and his activities seemed to be solely horticultural.
It was half past three and with his head spinning from
the effects of Mrs. Curtis's conversation, Mr. Enderby
went out for a stroll. His intention was to cultivate the
acquaintance of Miss Percehouse's nephew more closely.
Prudent reconnaissance in the neighborhood of Miss
Percehouse's cottage proved unavailing but by a stroke
of good fortune he ran into that young man just as he
was emerging disconsolately from the gates of Sittaford
House. He had all the appearance of having been sent
away with a flea in his ear.
"Hello," said Charles, "I say, isn't that Captain Trevelyan's
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