don't," cried Violet.
"What does it matter? It's all nonsense anyway."
"That is quite the wrong spirit," said Mr. Rycroft se-verely.
Brian Pearson did not reply but took his place beside
Violet.
"Mr. Enderby," began Mr. Rycroft, but Charles in-terrupted
him.
"I was not in on this. I'm a journalist and you mistrust
me. I'll take notes in shorthand of any phenomena--that's
the word isn't it?--that occur."
Matters were settled like that. The other six took their
places round the table. Charles turned off the lights and
sat down on the fender.
"One minute," he said. "What's the time?" He peered
at his wrist watch in the firelight.
"That's odd," he said.
"What's odd?"
"It's just twenty-five minutes past five .... "
Violet uttered a little cry.
Mr. Rycroft said severely:
"Silence."
26x
Agatha Christie
t The iautes assed. A very differentatmosphere this
o me e a week ago. There was no muffled laughter,
no whi?ered comments--only silence, broken at last
oy a snot cracl from the table
Mr
'
,, ' ,croft's voice rose,
tis tre anyone there?"
Anot
.
. . r faint crack--somehow an eerie sound in that
oarKen
"is" room,
.ttre anyone there?"
27. %aok t',is time but a deafening tremendous rap.
wmetserearoed and Mrs. Willett gave a cry.
,,Bi, anpearsoO'S voice rose reassuringly.
lr s ll right. That's a knock at the front door. I'll go
ano open it."
I-t.e,,stde from the room.
5tiu t
oke
body P ·
onSUddly the door flew open, the lights were switched
In thloorwaY stood Inspector Narracott. Behind him
were ily Trfusis and Mr. Duke.
,arr%tt took a step into the room and spoke.
jonn
.
-
BurnaDY, I charge you with the murder of Jo-
seph TrI:velyan on Friday the 14th instant, and I hereby
warn Y(h that anything you may sa will be taken down
and m% be usd in evidence.'
262
3°. Emily Explains
I T was a crowd of people almost too surprised for words
that crowded round Emily Trefusis.
Inspector Narracott had led his prisoner from the room.
Charles Enderby found his voice first.
"For heaven's sake, cough it up, Emily," he said. "I want to get to the telegraph office. Every mmnent's vital."
"It was Major Burnaby who killed Captain Trevelyan."
"Well, I saw Narracott arrest him. And I suppose Narracott's
sane--hasn't gone off his-nut suddenly. But how can Burnaby have killed Trevelyan? I mean how is it
humanly possible? If Trevelyan was killed at five and
twenty past five--"
"He wasn't. He was killed at about a quarter to six."
"Well, but even then--"
"I know. You'd never guess unless you just happened
to think of it. Skis--that's the explanation--skis." "Skis?" repeated everyone. '
Emily nodded.
"Yes. He deliberately engineered that table turning.
It wasn't accident and done unconsciously as we thought,
Charles. It was the second alternative that we rejected
--done on purpose. He saw it was going to snow before
very long. That would make it perfectly safe and wipe
out all tracks. He created the impression that Captain
Trevelyan was dead--got everyone all worked up. Then
z63
Agatha Christie
he pretended to be very upset and insisted on starting
off for Exhampton.
"He went home, buckled on his skis (they were kept
in a shed in the garden with a lot of other tackle) and
started. He was an expert on skis. It's all down hill to
Exhampton--a wonderful run. It would only take about
ten minutes.
"He arrived at the window and rapped. Captain Trevelyan
let him in, all unsuspecting. Then, when Captain
Trevelyan's back was turned he seized his opportunity,
picked up that sandbag thing and--and killed him. Ugh!
It makes me sick to think of it."
She shuddered.
"It was all quite easy. He had plenty of time. He must
have wiped and cleaned the skis and then put them into
the cupboard in the dining-room, pushed in among all
the other things. Then, I suppose he forced the window
and pulled out all the drawers and things--to make it
look as though someone had broken in.
"Then just before eight o'clock, all he had to do was
to go out, make a detour on to the road higher up and
come puffing and panting into Exhampton as though he'd
walked all the way from Sittaford. So long as no one
suspected about the skis, he'd be perfectly safe. The
doctor couldn't fail to say that Captain Trevelyan had
been dead at least two hours. And, as I say, so long as
no one thought of skis, Major Burnaby would have a
perfect alibi."
"But they were friends--Burnaby and Trevelyan," said
Mr. Rycroft. "Old friends--they've always been friends.
It's incredible."
e64
Murder at Hazelmoor
"I know," said Emily. "That's what I thought. I couldn't
see why. I puzzled and I puzzled and at last I had to
come to Inspector Narracott and Mr. Duke."
She paused and looked at the impassive Mr. Duke.
"May I tell them?" she said.
Mr. Duke smiled.
"If you like, Miss Trefusis."
"Anyway--no, perhaps you'd rather I didn't. I went
to them, and we got the thing clear. Do you remember
telling me, Charles, that Evans mentioned that Captain
Trevelyan used to send in solutions of competitions in
his name? He thought Sittaford House was too grand an
address. Well--that's what he did in that Football Com-petition
that you gave Major Burnaby five thousand pounds
for. It was Captain Trevelyan's solution really, and he
sent it in in Burnaby's name. No. 1, The Cottages, Sit-taford,
sounded much better, he thought. Well, you see
what happened? On Friday morning Major Burnaby got
the letter saying he'd won five thousand pounds (and by
the way, that ought to have made us suspicious. He told
you he never got the letter--that nothing had come
through on Friday owing to the weather. That was a lie.
Friday morning was the last day things did come through).
Where was I? Oh!--Major Burnaby getting the letter.
He wanted that five thousand--wanted it badly. He'd
been investing in some rotten shares or other and had
lost a terrible lot of money.
"The idea must have come into his head quite sud-denly,
I should think. Perhaps when he realized it was
going to snow that evening. If Trevelyan were dead--
he could keep that money and no one would ever know."
z65
Agatha Christie
"Amazing," murmured Mr. Rycroft. "Quite amazing.
I never dreamed--But
my dear young lady, how did you
learn all this? What put you on the right track?"
For answer, Emily explained Mrs. Belling's letter, and
told how she had discovered the boots in the chimney.
"It was looking at them that put it into my mind. They
were ski boots, you see, and it made me think of skis.
And suddenly I wondered if perhaps--I rushed down-stairs
to the cupboard, and sure enough there were two
pairs of skis there. One pair was longer than the other.
And the boots fitted the long pair--but they didn't fit
the other. The toe clip things were adjusted for a much
smaller pair of boots. The shorter pair of skis belonged
to a different person."
"He ought to have hidden the skis somewhere else,"
said Mr. Rycroft with artistic disapproval.
"No--no," said Emily. "Where else could he hide
them? It was a very good place really. In a day or two
the whole collection would have been stored, and in the
meantime it wasn't likely that the police would bother
whether Captain Trevelyan had had one or two pairs of
skis."
"But why did he hide the boots?"
"I suppose," said Emily, "that he was afraid the police
might do exactly what I did--The sight of ski boots might
have suggested skis to them. So he stuffed them up the
chimney. And that's really, of course, where he made
his mistake, because Evans noticed that they'd gone and
I got to know of it."
"Did he deliberately mean to fasten the crime on Jim?"
demanded Brian Pearson angrily.
266
Murder at Hazelmoor
"Oh! no. That was just Jim's usual idiotic luck. He was an idiot, poor lamb."
"He's all right now," said Charles. "You needn't worry
about him. Have you told me everything, Emily, because
if so, I want to rush to the telegraph office. You'll excuse
me everybody."
He dashed out of the room.
"The live wire," said Emily.
Mr. Duke spoke in his deep voice.
"You've been rather a live wire yourself, Miss Trefusis."
"You have," said Ronnie admiringly.
"Oh! dear," said Emily suddenly and dropped limply
on a chair.
"What you need is a pick-me-up," said Ronnie. "A cocktail, eh?"
Emily shook her head.
"A little brandy," suggested Mr. Rycroft solicitiously. "A cup of tea," suggested Violet.
"I'd like a spot of face powder," said Emily wistfully.
"I've left my powder puff in the car. And I know I'm
simply shining with excitement."
Violet led her upstairs in search of this sedative to the
nerves.
"That's better," said Emily dabbing her nose firmly.
"What a nice kind. I feel much better now. Have you
got any lipstick? I feel almost human."
"You've been wonderful," said Violet. "So brave."
"Not really," said Emily. "Underneath this camouflage
I've been as wobbly as a jelly, with a sort of sick feeling
in my middle."
Agatha Christie
"I know," said Violet. "I've felt much the same myself.
I have been so terrified this last few days--about Brian,
you know. They couldn't hang him for murdering Captain
Trevelyan, of course but if once he had said where
he was during that time, they would soon have ferreted
out that it was he who engineered father's escape."
"What's that?" said Emily pausing in her facial repairs.
"Father was the convict who escaped. That's why we
came here. Mother and I. Poor father, he's always--been
queer at times. Then he does these dreadful things.
We met Brian on the way over from Australia, and he
and I--well--he and I--"
"I see," said Emily helpfully. "Of course you did." "I told him everything and between us we concocted
a plan. Brian was wonderful. We had got plenty of money
fortunately, and Brian made all the plans. It's awfully
hard to get away from Princetown, you know, but Brian
engineered it. Really it was a kind of miracle. The arrangement
was that after father got away he was to go
straight across country here and hide in the Pixie's Cave
and then later he and Brian were to be our two men
servants. You see with our arriving so long beforehand
we imagined we would be quite free from suspicion. It
was Brian who told us about this place, and suggested
us offering a big rent to Captain Trevelyan."
"I'm awfully sorry," said Emily--"I mean that it all
went wrong."
"It's broken mother up completely," said Violet. "I think Brian's wonderful. It isn't everybody who would
want to marry a convict's daughter. But I don't think it's
really father's fault, he had an awful kick on the head
268
Murder at Hazelmoor
from a horse about fifteen years ago, and since then he
has been a bit queer. Brian says if he had a good counsel
he would have got off. But don't let's talk about me any
more."
"Can't anything be done?"
Violet shook her head.
"He's very ill--the exposure, you know. That awful
cold. It's pneumonia. I can't help feeling that if he
dies--well--it may be the best for him really. It sounds
dreadful to say so, but you know what I mean."
"Poor Violet," said Emily. "It is a rotten shame."
The girl shook her head.
"I've got Brian," she said. "And you've got--"
She stopped embarrassed.
"Ye-es," said Emily thoughtfully, "That's just it."
269
3 The Lucky Man
T v, N minutes later Emily was hurrying down the lane.
Captain Wyatt, leaning over his gate, tried to arrest her
progress.
"Hie," he said, "Miss Trefusis. What's all this I hear?"
"It's all true," said Emily hurrying on.
"Yes, but look here. Come in--have a glass of wine
or a cup of tea. There's plenty of time. No need to hurry.
That's the worst of you civilized people."
"We're awful, I know," said Emily and sped on.
She burst in on Miss Percehouse with the explosive
force of a bomb.
"I've come to tell you all about it," said Emily.
And straightway she poured forth the complete story.
It was punctuated by various ejaculations of "Bless us,"
"You don't say so? Well,
I declare," from Miss Perce-
house.
When
Emily had finished her narrative, Miss Perce-house raised
herself on her elbow and wagged a finger portentously.
"What did
I
say?" she demanded. "I told you Burnaby was ajealous man.
Friends indeed! For more than twenty years Trevelyan has
done everything a bit better than Burnaby. He skied
better, and he climbed better and he shot better
and he did Cross Word Puzzles better. Burnaby wasn't a
big enough man to stand it. Trevelyan was rich and
he was poor.
27°
Murder at Hazelmoor
"It's been going on a long time. I can tell you it's a
difficult thing to go on really liking a man who can do
everything just a litt
le better than you can. Burnaby was
a narrow-minded, small-natured man. He let it get on
his nerves."
"I expect you're right," said Emily. "Well, I had to
come and tell you. It seemed so unfair you should be
out of everything. By the way, did you know that your
nephew knew my Aunt Jennifer? They were having tea
together at Deller's on Wednesday."
"She's his godmother," said Miss Percehouse. "So that's
the 'fellow' he wanted to see in Exeter. Borrowing money,
if I know Ronnie. I'll speak to him."
"I forbid you to bite anyone on a joyful day like this,"
said Emily. "Good-by. I nust fly. I've got a lot to do."
"What have you got to do, young woman? I should
say you'd done your bit."
"Not quite. I must go up to London and see Jim's
Insurance Company people and persuade them not to
prosecute him over that little matter of the borrowed
money."
"H'm," said Miss Percehouse.
"It's all right," said Emily. "Jim will keep straight
enough in future. He's had his lesson."
"Perhaps. And you think you'll be able to persuade
them?"
"Yes," said Emily firmly.
"Well," said Miss Percehouse. "Perhaps you will. And
after that?"
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