"For New York?"
"Yes."
"Then he'll be on the sea at the present moment. What
boat is he on?"
"I--I really can't remember."
"You know the line? Was it a Cunard or White Star?"
"I--I really don't remember."
"Ah well," said the Inspector, "we'll cable his firm in
New York. They'll know."
"It was the Gargantua," said Dering sullenly.
"Thank you, Mr. Dering, I thought you could remem.'Zl9
Agatha Christie
her if you tried, Now, your statement is that you lunched
with Mr. Rosenkraun and that you spent the afternoon
with him. At what time did you leave him?"
"About five o'clock I should say."
"And then?"
"I decline to state. It's no business of yours. That's all
you want surely."
Inspector Narracott nodded thoughtfully. If Rosenkraun
confirmed Dering's statement then any case against
Dering must fall to the ground. Whatever his mysterious
activities had been that evening could not affect the case.
"What are you going to do?" demanded Dering uneasily.
"Wireless Mr. Rosenkraun on board the Gargantua."
"Damn it all," cried Dering, "you'll involve me in all
sorts of publicity. Look here--"
He went across to his desk, scribbled a few words on
a bit of paper, then took it to the Inspector.
"I suppose you've got to do what you're doing," he
said ungraciously, "but at least you might do it in my
way. It's not tair to run a chap in for a lot of trouble."
On the sheet of paper was written:
Rosenkraun S.S. "Gargantua." Please confirm my
statement I was with you lunch-time until five o'clock
Friday 14th. Martin Dering.
"Have the reply sent straight to youmI don't mind.
But don't have it sent to Scotland Yard or a Police Station.
You don't know what these Americans are like. Any hint
of me being mixed up in a police case and this new
contract that I've been discussing will go to the winds.
Keep it a private matter, Inspector."
Murder at Hazelmoor
"I've no objection to that, Mr. Dering. All I want is
the truth. I'll send this reply paid, the reply to be sent
to my private address in Exeter."
"Thank you, you are a good chap. It's not such easy
going earning your living by literature, Inspector. You'll
see the answer will be all right. I did tell you a lie about
the dinner, but as a matter of fact I had told my wife
that that was where I had been, and I thought I might
as well stick to the same story to you. Otherwise I would
have let myself in for a lot of trouble."
"If Mr. Rosenkraun confirms your statement, Mr.
Dering, you will have nothing else to fear."
"An unpleasant character," the Inspector thought, as
he left the house. "But he seems pretty certain that this
American publisher will confirm the truth of his story."
A sudden remembrance came to the Inspector, as he
hopped into the train which would take him back to
Devon.
"Rycroft," he said, "of course--that's the name of the
old gentleman who lives in one of the cottages at Sitta-ford.
A curious coincidence."
221
At Deller's Caf
E M I L ¥ Trefusis and Charles Enderby were seated at
a small table in Deller's Caf in Exeter. It was half past
three and at that hour there was comparative peace and
quiet. A few people were having a quiet cup of tea, but
the restaurant on the whole was deserted.
"Well," said Charles, "what do you think of him?"
Emily frowned.
"It's difficult," she said.
After his interview with the police, Brian Pearson had
lunched with them. He had been extremely polite to
Emily, rather too polite in her opinion.
To that astute girl it seemed a shade unnatural. Here
was a young man conducting a clandestine love affair and
an officious stranger butts in.
Brian Pearson had taken it like a lamb, had fallen in
with Charles's suggestion of having a car and driving over
to see the police.
Why this attitude of meek acquiescence? It seemed
to Emily entirely untypical of the natural Brian Pearson
as she read his character.
"I'll see you in hell first!" would, she felt sure, have
been far more his attitude.
This lamb-like demeanor was suspicious. She tried to
convey something of her feelings to Enderby.
"I get you," said Enderby. "Our Brian has got some
Murder at Hazelmoor
thing to conceal, therefore he can't be his ratural highhanded
self."
"That's it exactly."
"Do you think he might possibly have killed old Trevelyan?"
"Brian," said Emily thoughtfully, "is--well, a person
to be reckoned with. He is rather unscrupulous, I should
think, and if he wanted anything, I don't think he would
let ordinary conventional standards stand in his way. He's
not plain tame English."
"Putting all personal considerations on one side, he's
a more likely starter than Jim?" said Enderby.
Emily nodded.
"Much more likely. He would carry a thing through
well--because he would never lose his nerve."
"Honestly, Emily, do you think he did it?"
"I--I don't know. He fulfils the conditions--the only
person who does."
"What do you mean by fulfils the conditions?"
"Well (x) Motive." She ticked off the items on her
fingers. "The same motive. Twenty thousand pounds. () Opportunity. Nobody knows where he was on Friday
afternoon, and if he was anywhere that he could say--well--surely
he would say it? So we assume that he was
actually in the neighborhood of Hazelmoor on Friday."
"They haven't found anyone who save him in Ex-hampton,"
Charles pointed out, "and he's a Fairly noticeable
person."
Emily shook her head scornfully.
"He wasn't in Exhampton. Don't you see, Charles, if
Agatha Christie
he committed the murder, he planned it beforehand.
It's only poor innocent Jim who came down like a mug
and stayed there. There's Lydford and Chagford or perhaps
Exeter. He might have walked over from Lydford
--that's a main road and the snow wouldn't have been
impassable. It would have been pretty good going."
"I suppose we ought to make inquiries all round."
"The police are doing that," said Emily, "and they'll
do it a lot better than we shall. All public things are
much better done by the police. It's private and personal
things like listening to Mrs. Curtis and picking up a hint
from Miss Percehouse and watching the Willetts--that's
where we score."
"Or don't, as the case may be," said Charles.
"To go back to Brian Pearson fulfilling the conditions,"
said Emily. "We've done two, motive and opportunity,
and there's the third--the one that in a way I think is
the most important of all."
"What's that?" ,
"Well,
I have felt from the beginning that we couldn't
ignore that queer business of the table turning. I have
tried to look at it as logically and clearsightedly as possible.
There are just three solutions of it. (2) That it was
supernatural. Well, of course, that may be so, but personally
I am ruling it out. (2) That it was deliberate--someone
did it on purpose, but as one can't arrive at any
conceivable reason, we can rule that out also. (3) Accidental.
Someone gave himself away without meaning to
do so--indeed quite against his will. An unconscious
piece of self-revelation. If so, someone among those six
people either knew definitely that Captain Trevelyan was
224
Murder at Hazelmoor
going to be killed at a certain time that afternoon, or that
someone was having an interview with him from which
violence might result. None of those six people could
have been the actual murderer, but one of them must
have been in collusion with the murderer. There's no
link between Major Burnaby and anybody else, or Mr.
Rycroft and anybody else, or Ronald Garfield and anyone
else, but when we come to the Willetts it's different.
There's a link between Violet Willett and Brian Pearson.
Those two are on very intimate terms and that girl was
all on the jump after the murder."
"You think she knew?" said Charles.
"She or her mother--one or other of them."
"There's one person you haven't mentioned," said
Charles. "Mr. Duke."
"I know," said Emily. "It's queer. He's the one person
we know absolutely nothing about. I've tried to see him
twice and failed. There seems no connection between
him and Captain Trevelyan, or between him and any of
Captain Trevelyan's relations, there's absolutely nothing
to connect him with the case in any way, and yet--"
"Well?" said Charles Enderby as Emily paused.
"And yet we inet Inspector Narracott coining out of
his cottage. What does Inspector Narracott know about
him that we don't? I wish I knew."
"You think--"
"Supposing Duke is a suspicious character and the
police know it. Supposing Captain Trevelyan had found
out something about Duke. He was particular about his
tenants, remember, and supposing he was going to tell
the police what he knew. And Duke arranges with an
Agatha Christie
accomplice to have him killed. Oh, I know it all sounds
dreadfully melodramatic put like that, and yet, after all,
something of the kind might be possible."
"It's an idea certainly," said Charles slowly.
They were both silent, each one deep in thought.
Suddenly Emily said:
"Do you know that queer feeling you get when somebody
is looking at you. I feel now as though someone's
eyes were burning the back of my neck. Is it all tancy
or is there really someone staring at me now?"
Charles moved his chair an inch or two and looked
round the caf in a casual manner.
"There's a woman at a table in the window," he reported.
"Tall, dark and handsome. She's staring at you."
"Young?"
"No, not very young. Hello!"
"What is it?"
"Ronnie Garfield. He has just come in and he's shaking
hands with her and he's sitting down at her table. I think
she's saying something about us."
Emily opened her handbag. Rather ostentatiously she
powdered her nose, adjusting the small pocket mirror
to a convenient angle.
"It's Aunt Jennifer," she said softly. "They are getting up.'
"They are going," said Charles. "Do you want to speak
to her?"
"No," said Emily. "I think it's better for me to pretend
that I haven't seen her."
"After all," said Charles, "why shouldn't Aunt Jennifer
know Ronnie Garfield and ask him to tea?"
Murder at Hazelmoor
"Why should she?" said Emily.
"Why shouldn't she?"
"Oh, for goodness sake, Charles, don't let's go on and
on like this, should--shouldn't--should--shouldn't. Of
course it's all nonsense, and it doesn't mean anything!
But we were just saying that nobody else at the sance
had any relation with the family, and not five minutes
later we see Ronnie Garfield having tea with Captain
Trevelyan's sister."
"It shows," said Charles, "that you never know."
"It shows," said Emily, "that you are always having to
begin again."
"In more ways than one," said Charles.
Emily looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing at present," said Charles.
He put his hand over hers. She did not draw it away.
"We've got to put this through," said Charles.
"Afterwards--"
"Afterwards?" said Emfiy softly.
"I'd do anything for you, Emily," said Charles. "Sim-ply
anything--"
"Would you?" said Emily. "That's rather nice of you,
Charles dear."
26. Robert Gardner
I T was just twenty minutes later when Emily rang the
front door bell of The Laurels. It had been a sudden
impulse. She smiled beamingly on Beatrice when the
latter opened the door to her.
"It's me again," said Emily. "Mrs. Gardner's out, I
know, but can I see Mr. Gardner?"
Such a request was clearly unusual. Beatrice seemed
doubtful.
"Well, I don't know. I'll go up and see, shall I?"
"Yes, do," said Emily.
Beatrice went upstairs leaving Emily alone in the hall.
She returned in a few minutes to ask the young lady to
please step this way.
Robert Gardner was lying on a couch by the window
in a big room on the first floor. He was a big man, blue
eyed and fair haired. He looked, Emily thought, as Tristran
ought to look in the third act of Tristran and Isolde and as no Wagnerian tenor has ever looked yet.
"Hello," he said. "You are the criminal's spouse to be,
aren't you?"
"That's right, Uncle Robert," said Emily. "I suppose I do call you Uncle Robert, don't I?" she asked.
"If Jennifer will allow it. What's it like having a young
man languishing in prison?"
A cruel man, Emily decided. A man who would take
a malicious joy in giving you sharp digs in painful places.
Murder at Hazelmoor
But she was a match for him. She said smilingly:
"Very thrilling."
"Not so thrilling for Master Jim, eh?"
"Oh, well," said Emily, "it's an experience, isn't it?"
"Teach him life can't be all beer and skittles," said
Robert Gardner maliciously. "Too young to fight in the
Great War, wasn't he? Able to live soft and take it easily.
Well, well .... He got it in the neck from another source."
He looked at her curiously.
"What did you want to come and see me for, eh?"
There was a tinge of something like suspicion in his
voice.
"If you are going to marry into a family it's just as well
to see all your relations-in-law beforehand."
"K
now the worst before it's too late. So you really
think you are going to marry young Jim, eh?"
"Why not?"
"In spite of this murder charge?"
"In spite of this murder charge."
"Well," said Robert Gardner, "I have never seen anybody
less cast down. Anyone would think you were enjoying
yourself."
"I am. Tracking down a murderer is frightfully thrilling."
"Eh?"
"I said tracking down a murderer is frightfully thrilling,''
said Emily.
Robert Gardner stared at her then he threw himself
back on his pillows.
"I am tired," he said in a fretful voice. "I can't talk
any more. Nurse, where's Nurse? Nurse, I'm tired."
Agatha Christie
Nurse Davis had come swiftly at his call from an ad-joining
room. "Mr. Gardner gets tired very easily. I think
you had better go now if you don't mind, Miss Trefusis."
Emily rose to her feet. She nodded brightly and said:
"Good-by, Uncle Robert. Perhaps I'll come back some
day."
"What do you mean?"
"Au revoir," said Emily.
She was going out of the front door when she stopped.
"Oh!" she said to Beatrice. "I have left my gloves."
"I will get them, Miss."
"Oh, no," said Emily. "I'll do it." She ran lightly up
the stairs and entered without knocking.
"Oh," said Emily. "I beg your pardon. I am so sorry.
It was my gloves." She took them up ostentatiously and
smiling sweetly at the two occupants of the room who
were sitting hand in hand ran down the stairs and out
of the house.
"This glove leaving is a terrific scheme," said Emily
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