Cards on the Table hp-15

by Agatha Christie

  "Yes?" she inquired as she held out her hand.

  Despard paused a minute, picking his words carefully. He took her hand and retained it in his. He looked straight into the wide, beautiful gray eyes.

  "Don't be offended with me," he said. "I just want to say this. It's humanly possible that there may be some feature of your acquaintanceship with Shaitana that you don't want to come out. If so – don't be angry, please" – he felt the instinctive pull of her hand – "you are perfectly within your rights in refusing to answer any questions Battle may ask unless your solicitor is present.

  Anne tore her hand away. Her eyes opened, their gray darkening with anger.

  "There's nothing – nothing – I hardly knew the beastly man."

  "Sorry," said Major Despard. "Thought I ought to mention it."

  "It's quite true," said Rhoda. "Anne barely knew him. She didn't like him much, but he gave frightfully good parties."

  "That," said Major Despard grimly, "seems to have been the only justification for the late Mr. Shaitana's existence."

  Anne said in a cold voice, "Superintendent Battle can ask me anything he likes. I've nothing to hide – nothing."

  Despard said very gently, "Please forgive me."

  She looked at him. Her anger dwindled. She smiled; it was a very sweet smile. "It's all right," she said. "You meant it kindly, I know."

  She held out her hand again. He took it and said, "We're in the same boat, you know. We ought to be pals."

  It was Anne who went with him to the gate. When she came back Rhoda was staring out of the window and whistling. She turned as her friend entered the room.

  "He's frightfully attractive, Anne."

  "He's nice, isn't he?"

  "A great deal more than nice. I've got an absolute passion for him. Why wasn't I at that damned dinner instead of you? I'd have enjoyed the excitement – the net closing round me – the shadow of the scaffold -"

  "No, you wouldn't. You're talking nonsense, Rhoda."

  Anne's voice was sharp. Then it softened as she said,

  "It was nice of him to come all this way – for a stranger – a girl he'd only met once."

  "Oh, he fell for you. Obviously. Men don't do purely disinterested kindnesses. He wouldn't have come toddling down if you'd been cross-eyed and covered with pimples."

  "Don't you think so?"

  "I do not, my good idiot. Mrs. Oliver's a much more disinterested party."

  "I don't like her" said Anne abruptly. "I had a sort of feeling about her, I wonder what she really came for?"

  "The usual suspicions of your own sex. I daresay Major Despard had an ax to grind if it comes to that."

  "I'm sure he hadn't," cried Anne hotly.

  Then she blushed as Rhoda Dawes laughed.

  Chapter 14

  THIRD VISITOR

  Superintendent Battle arrived at Wallingford about six o'clock. It was his intention to learn as much as he could from innocent local gossip before interviewing Miss Anne Meredith.

  It was not difficult to glean such information as there was. Without committing himself definitely to any statement, the superintendent nevertheless gave several different impressions of his rank and calling in life.

  At least two people would have said confidently that he was a London builder come down to see about a new wing to be added to the cottage; from another you would have learned that he was "one of these week-enders wanting to take a furnished cottage," and two more would have said they knew positively and for a fact that he was the representative of a hard-court tennis firm. The information that the superintendent gathered was entirely favorable.

  Wendon Cottage? Yes, that's right – on the Marlbury Road. You can't miss it. Yes, two young ladies. Miss Dawes and Miss Meredith. Very nice young ladies, too. The quiet one.

  Here for years? Oh, no, not that long. Just over two years, September quarter they come in. Mr. Pickersgill they bought it from. Never used it much, he didn't, after his wife died.

  Superintendent Battle's informant had never heard they came from Northumberland. London he thought they came from. Popular in the neighborhood, though some people were old-fashioned and didn't think two young ladies ought to be living alone. But very quiet they were. None of this cocktail-drinking week-end lot. Miss Rhoda, she was the dashing one. Miss Meredith was the quietest. Yes, it was Miss Dawes what paid the bills. She was the one had got the money.

  The superintendent's researches at last led him inevitably to Mrs. Astwell, who "did" for the ladies at Wendon Cottage. Mrs. Astwell was a loquacious lady.

  "Well, no, sir, I hardly think they'd want to sell. Not so soon. They only got in two years ago. I've done for them from the beginning, yes, sir. Eight o'clock till twelve, those are my hours. Very nice lively young ladies, always ready for a joke or a bit of fun. Not stuck up at all.

  "Well, of course I couldn't say if it's the same Miss Dawes you knew, sir – the same family, I mean. It's my fancy her home's in Devonshire. She gets the cream sent her now and again and says it reminds her of home, so I think it must be.

  "As you say, sir, it's sad for so many young ladies having to earn their livings nowadays. These young ladies aren't what you'd call rich, but they have a very pleasant life. It's Miss Dawes has got the money, of course. Miss Anne's her companion in a manner of speaking I suppose you might say. The cottage belongs to Miss Dawes.

  "I couldn't really say what part Miss Anne comes from. I've heard her mention the Isle of Wight, and I know she doesn't like the North of England, and she and Miss Rhoda were together in Devonshire because I've heard them joke about the hills and talk about the pretty coves and beaches."

  The flow went on. Every now and then Superintendent Battle made a mental note. Later, a cryptic word or two was jotted down in his little book.

  At half-past eight that evening he walked up the path to the door of Wendon Cottage. It was opened to him by a tall dark girl wearing a frock of orange cretonne.

  "Miss Meredith live here?" inquired Superintendent Battle. He looked very wooden and soldierly.

  "Yes, she does."

  "I'd like to speak to her, please. Superintendent Battle."

  He was immediately favored with a piercing stare.

  "Come in," said Rhoda Dawes, drawing back from the doorway.

  Anne Meredith was sitting in a cosy chair by the fire sipping coffee. She was wearing embroidered crepe de Chine pajamas.

  "It's Superintendent Battle," said Rhoda, ushering in the guest.

  Anne rose and came forward with outstretched hand.

  "A bit late for a call," said Battle. "But I wanted to find you in and it's been a fine day."

  Anne smiled. "Will you have some coffee, Superintendent? Rhoda, fetch another cup."

  "Well, it's very kind of you, Miss Meredith."

  "We think we make rather good coffee," said Anne.

  She indicated a chair and Superintendent Battle sat down. Rhoda brought a cup and Anne poured out his coffee. The fire crackled and the flowers in the vase made an agreeable impression upon the superintendent.

  It was a pleasant homey atmosphere. Anne seemed self-possessed and at her ease and the other girl continued to stare at him with devouring interest.

  "We've been expecting you," said Anne.

  Her tone was almost reproachful. "Why have you neglected me?" it seemed to say.

  "Sorry, Miss Meredith. I've had a lot of routine work to do."

  "Satisfactory?"

  "Not particularly. But it all has to be done. I've turned Doctor Roberts inside out, so to speak. And the same for Mrs. Lorrimer. And now I've come to do the same for you, Miss Meredith,"

  Anne smiled. "I'm ready."

  "What about Major Despard?" asked Rhoda.

  "Oh, he won't be overlooked. I can promise you that," said Battle.

  He set down his coffee cup and looked toward Anne.

  She sat up a little straighter in her chair. "I'm quite ready, Superintendent. What do you want to know?"

&
nbsp; "Well, roughly, all about yourself, Miss Meredith."

  "I'm quite a respectable person," said Anne, smiling.

  "She's led a blameless life, too," said Rhoda. "I can answer for that."

  "Well, that's very nice," said Superintendent Battle cheerfully. "You've known Miss Meredith a long time, then?"

  "We were at school together," said Rhoda. "What ages ago it seems, doesn't it, Anne?"

  "So long ago you can hardly remember it, I suppose," said Battle with a chuckle. Now then, Miss Meredith, I'm afraid I'm going to be rather like those forms you fill up for passports."

  "I was born -" began Anne.

  "Of poor but honest parents," Rhoda put in.

  Superintendent Battle held up a slightly reproving hand. "Now, now, young lady," he said.

  "Rhoda darling," said Anne gravely. "It's serious, this."

  "Sorry," said Rhoda.

  "Now, Miss Meredith, you were born – where?"

  "At Quetta, in India."

  "Ah, yes, your people were Army folk?"

  "Yes, my father was Major John Meredith. My mother died when I was eleven. Father retired when I was fifteen and went to live in Cheltenham. He died when I was eighteen and left practically no money."

  Battle nodded his head sympathetically.

  "Bit of a shock to you, I expect."

  "It was rather. I always knew that we weren't well off, but to find there was practically nothing – well, that's different."

  "What did you do, Miss Meredith?"

  "I had to take a job. I hadn't been particularly well educated and I wasn't clever. I didn't know typing or shorthand or anything. A friend in Cheltenham found me a job with friends of hers – two small boys home in the holidays and general help in the house."

  "Name, please?"

  "That was Mrs. Eldon, The Larches, Ventnor. I stayed there for two years and then the Eldons went abroad. Then I went to a Mrs. Deering."

  "My aunt," put in Rhoda.

  "Yes, Rhoda got me the job. I was very happy. Rhoda used to come and stay sometimes and we had great fun."

  "What were you there, companion?"

  "Yes, it amounted to that."

  "More like under-gardener," said Rhoda.

  She explained. "My Aunt Emily is just mad on gardening. Anne spent most of her time weeding or putting in bulbs."

  "And you left Mrs. Deering?"

  "Her health got worse and she had to have a regular nurse."

  "She's got cancer," said Rhoda. "Poor darling, she has to have morphia and things like that."

  "She had been very kind to me. I was very sorry to go," went on Anne.

  "I was looking about for a cottage," said Rhoda, "and wanting someone to share it with me. Daddy's married again – not my sort at all. I asked Anne to come here with me and she's been here ever since."

  "Well that certainly seems a most blameless life," said Rattle. Let's just get the dates clear. You were with Mrs. Eldon two years, you say. By the way what is her address now?"

  "She's in Palestine. Her husband has some government appointment out there – I'm not sure what."

  "Ah, well, I can soon find out. And after that you went to Mrs. Deering?"

  "I was with her three years," said Anne quickly. "Her address is Marsh Dene, Little Hembury, Devon."

  "I see," said Battle. "So you are now twenty-five, Miss Meredith. Now there's just one thing more – the name and address of a couple of people in Cheltenham who knew you and your father."

  Anne supplied him with these.

  "Now about this trip to Switzerland – where you met Mr. Shaitana. Did you go alone there, or was Miss Dawes here with you?"

  "We went out together. We joined some other people. There was a party of eight."

  "Tell me about your meeting with Mr. Shaitana."

  Anne crinkled her brows. "There's really nothing to tell. He was just there. We knew him in the way you do know people in a hotel. He got first prize at the Fancy Dress Ball. He went as Mephistopheles."

  Superintendent Battle sighed.

  "Yes, that always was his favorite effect."

  "He really was marvelous," said Rhoda. "He hardly had to make up at all."

  The superintendent looked from one girl to the other.

  "Which of you two young ladies knew him best?"

  Anne hesitated. It was Rhoda who answered.

  "Both the same to begin with. Awfully little, that is. You see our crowd was the skiing lot and we were off doing runs most days and dancing together in the evenings. But then Shaitana seemed to take rather a fancy to Anne. You know, went out of his way to pay her compliments and all that. We ragged her about it rather."

  "I just think he did it to annoy me," said Anne. "Because I didn't like him. I think it amused him to make me feel embarrassed."

  Rhoda said, laughing, "We told Anne it would be a nice rich marriage for her. She got simply wild with us."

  "Perhaps," said Battle, "you'd give me the names of the other people in your party?"

  "You aren't what I'd call a trustful man," said Rhoda. "Do you think that every word we're telling you is downright lies?"

  Superintendent Battle twinkled. "I'm going to make quite sure it isn't, anyway," he said.

  "You are suspicious," said Rhoda.

  She scribbled some names on a piece of paper and gave it to him. Battle rose.

  "Well, thank you very much, Miss Meredith," he said, "As Miss Dawes says, you seem to have led a particularly blameless life. I don't think you need worry much. It's odd the way Mr. Shaitana's manner changed to you. You'll excuse my asking, but he didn't ask you to marry him – or – er – pester you with attentions of another kind?"

  "He didn't try to seduce her," said Rhoda helpfully, "if that's what you mean."

  Anne was blushing. "Nothing of the kind," she said. "He was always most polite and – and – formal. It was just his elaborate manners that made me uncomfortable."

  "And little things he said or hinted?"

  "Yes – at least – no. He never hinted things."

  "Sorry. These lady killers do sometimes. Well, good night, Miss Meredith, thank you very much. Excellent coffee. Good night, Miss Dawes."

  "There," said Rhoda as Anne came back into the room after shutting the front door after Battle. "That's over and not so very terrible. He's a nice fatherly man, and he evidently doesn't suspect you in the least. It was all ever so much better than I expected."

  Anne sank down with a sigh. "It was really quite easy," she said. "It was silly of me to work myself up so. I thought he'd try to browbeat me – like K.C.'s on the stage."

  "He looks sensible," said Rhoda. "He'd know well enough you're not a murdering kind of female."

  She hesitated and then said, "I say, Anne, you didn't mention being at Croftways. Did you forget?"

  Anne said slowly, "I didn't think it counted. I was only there a few months. And there's no one to ask about me there. I can write and tell him if you think it matters, but I'm sure it doesn't. Let's leave it."

  "Right, if you say so."

  Rhoda rose and turned on the radio.

  A raucous voice said, "You have just heard the Black Nubian play 'Why Do You Tell Me Lies, Baby?'"

  Chapter 15

  MAJOR DESPARD

  Major Despard came out of the Albany, turned sharply into Regent Street, and jumped on a bus.

  It was the quiet time of day; the top of the bus had very few seats occupied. Despard made his way forward and sat down on the front seat.

  He had jumped on the bus while it was going. Now it came to a halt, took up passengers, and made its way once more up Regent Street.

  A second traveler climbed the steps, made his way forward, and sat down in the front seat on the other side.

  Despard did not notice the newcomer, but after a few minutes a tentative voice murmured, "It is a good view of London, is it not, that one gets from the top of a bus?"

  Despard turned his head. He looked puzzled for a moment, then his face
cleared.

  "I beg your pardon, Monsieur Poirot. I didn't see it was you. Yes, as you say, one has a good bird's-eye view of the world from here. It was better, though, in the old days, when there wasn't all this caged-in-glass business."

  Poirot sighed. "Tout de même, it was not always agreeable in the wet weather when the inside was full. And there is much wet weather in this country."

  "Rain? Rain never did any harm to anyone."

  "You are in error," said Poirot. "It leads often to a fluxion de poitrine."

  Despard smiled. "I see you belong to the well-wrapped-up school, Monsieur Poirot."

  Poirot was indeed well equipped against any treachery of an autumn day. He wore a greatcoat and a muffler.

  "Rather odd running into you like this," said Despard. He did not see the smile that the muffler concealed. There was nothing odd in this encounter. Having ascertained a likely hour for Despard to leave his rooms, Poirot had been waiting for him. He had prudently not risked leaping on the bus, but he had trotted after it to its next stopping place and boarded it there.

  "True, we have not seen each other since the evening at Mr. Shaitana's," he replied.

  "Aren't you taking a hand in that business?" asked Despard.

  Poirot scratched his ear delicately.

  "I reflect," he said. "I reflect a good deal. To run to and fro, to make the investigations, that, no. It does not suit my age, my temperament, or my figure."

  Despard said unexpectedly, "Reflect, eh? Well, you might do worse. There's too much rushing about nowadays. If people sat tight and thought about a thing before they tackled it, there'd be less mess-ups than there are."

  "Is that your procedure in life, Major Despard?"

  "Usually," said the other simply. "Get your bearings, figure out your route, weigh up the pros and cons, make your decision – and stick to it." His mouth set grimly.

  "And after that, nothing will turn you from your path, eh?" asked Poirot.

  "Oh! I don't say that. No use in being pigheaded over things. If you've made a mistake, admit it."

  "But I imagine that you do not often make a mistake, Major Despard."

  "We all make mistakes, Monsieur Poirot."

  "Some of us," said Poirot with a certain coldness possibly due to the pronoun the other had used, "make less than others."