Mrs McGinty's Dead / the Labours of Hercules (Agatha Christie Collected Works)

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Mrs McGinty's Dead / the Labours of Hercules (Agatha Christie Collected Works) Page 13

by Agatha Christie

little Slovak.

  Harold determined that he would set about learning German. He decided

  to btly some text books and spend a cotil:)Ie of hours each morning in

  mastering the language.

  The morning was fine and after writing some letters Harold looked at his

  watch and saw that there was still time for an hour's stroll before

  lunch. He went down toward the lake and then turned aside into the pine

  woods. He had walked there for perhaps five minutes when he heard an

  unnstakable sound. Somewhere, not far away, a woman was sobbing her

  heart out.

  Harold paused a nnute, then went in the direction of the sotd. The

  woman was Elsie Clayton and she was sitting on a fallen tree with her

  face buried in her hands

  and her shoulders quivering with the violence of her grief.

  Harold hesitated a minute, then he came up to her.

  He said gently, "Mrs. Clayton-Elsie?"

  She started violently and looked up at him. Harold sat down beside her.

  He said with real sympathy, "Is there anything I can do?

  Anything at all?"

  She shook her head.

  "No-no-you're very kind. But there's nothing that anyone can do for

  me."

  Harold said rather diffidently, "Is it to do with-your husband?"

  She nodded. Then she wiped her eyes and took ovit her powder compact,

  struggling to regain command of herself.

  She said in a quavering voice, "I didn't want Mother to worry. She's so

  upset when she sees me unhappy. So I came out here to have a good cry.

  It's silly, I know. Crying doesn't help. But-sometimes-one just feels

  that life is quite unbearable."

  Harold said, "I'm terribly sorry."

  She threw him a grateful glance. Then she said hurriedly, "It's my own

  fault, of course. I married Philip of my own free will. It-it's turned

  out badly, I've only myself to blame."

  Harold said, "It's very plucky of you to put it like that."

  Elsie shook her head. "No, I'm not plucky. I'm not brave at all. I'm

  an awful coward. That's partly the trouble with Philip. I'm terrified

  of him-absolutely terrilied-when he gets in one of his rages."

  Harold said with feeling, "You ought to leave himl"

  "I daren't. He-he wouldn't let me."

  "Nonsense! What about a divorce?"

  She shook her head slowly. "I've no grounds." She straightened her

  shoulders. "No, I've got to carry on.

  I spend a fair amount of time with Mother, you know.

  Philil.) doesn't mind that. Especially when we go somewhere off the

  beaten track like this."

  She added, the color rising in her cheeks, "You see, part of the trouble

  is Lbat he's insanely jealous. If-if I so much as speak to another man

  he makes the most frightful scenes."

  Harold's indignation rose. He had heard many women complain of the

  jealousy of a liusband, and while professing sympathy, had been secretly

  of the opinion that the husl)an(I was amply justified. But Elsie

  Clayton was not one of those women. She had never thrown him so much as

  a flirtatious glance.

  Elsie drew away from him with a slight shiver. She glanced up at the

  sky.

  "'I'lie sun's gone in. It's quite cold. We'd better get back to the

  hotel. It must be nearly lunch time."

  They got up and turned in the direction of the hotel.

  They had walked for perhaps a minute when they overtook a figure going

  in the same direction. They recognized her by the flapping cloak she

  wore. It was one of the Polish sisters.

  They passed her, Harold bowing slightly. She made no response but her

  eyes rested on them both for a minute an(i there was a certain

  appraising quality in the glance which made Harold feel suddenly hot. He

  wondered if the woman had seen him sitting by Elsie on the tree trunk.

  if so, she probably thought ...

  Well, she looked as though she thought ... A wave of incligriation

  overwhelmed himl What foul minds some women hadl

  Odd that the sun had gone in and that they should both have

  shivered-perhaps just at the moment that that woman was watching

  them....

  Somehow, Harold felt a little uneasy.

  That evening, Harold went to his room a little after ten. -Ihe English

  mail had arrived and he had received a number of letters, some of which

  needed -aediate answers.

  He got into pajamas and a dressing-gown and sat down at the desk to deal

  with his correspondence. He had

  written three letters and was just starting on the fourth when the door

  was suddenly flung open and Elsie Clayton staggered into the room.

  Harold jumped up, startled. Elsie had pushed the door to behind her and

  was standing clutching at the chest of drawers. Her breath was coming

  in great gasps, her face was the color of chalk. She looked frightened

  to death.

  Slie gasped out, "It's my husband! He arrived unexpectedly. I-I think

  he'll kill me. He's mad-quite mad.

  I came to you. Don't-don't let him find me."

  She took a step or two forward, swaying so much that she almost fell.

  Harold put out an arm to support her.

  As he did so, the door was flung open and a man stood in the doorway. He

  was of medium height with thick eyebrows and a sleek dark head. In his

  hand he carried a heavy car wrench. His voice rose high and shook with

  rage. He almost screamed the words:

  "So that Polish woman was rightl You are carrying on with this fellowl"

  Elsie cried, "No, no, Philip. It's not true. You're wrong."

  Harold thrust the girl swiftly behind him, as Philip Clayton advanced on

  them both. -I'he latter cried:

  "Wrong, am I? When I find you here in his room? You she-devil, I'll

  kill you for this."

  With a swift sideways movement he dodged Harold's arm. Elsie, with a

  cry, ran round the other side of Harold, who swung round to fend the

  other off.

  But Philip Clayton had only one idea, to get at his wife.

  He swerved round again. Elsie, terrified, rushed out of the room.

  Philip Clayton dashed after her, and Harold, with not a moment's

  hesitation, followed him.

  Elsie had darted back into her own bedroom at the end of the corridor.

  Harold could hear the sound of the key turning in the lock, but it did

  not turn in time. Before the lock could catch Philip Clayton wrenched

  the door open. He (lisal)peared into the rooin and Harold heard Elsie's

  frightened cry. In another minute Harold burst in after them.

  Elsie was standing at bay against the curtains of the

  window. As Harold entered Philip Clayton rushed at her, brandishing the

  wrench. She gave a terrified cry, then, snatching up a heavy

  paperweight from the desk beside her, she flung it at him.

  Clayton went down like a log. Elsie screamed. Harold stopped,

  petrified, in the doorway. The girl fell on her knees beside her

  husband. He lay quite still where he had fallen.

  Outside in the passage there was the sound of the bolt of one of the

  doors being drawn back. Elsie jumped up and ran to Harold.

  "Please-please-" Her voice was low and breathless.

  "Go back to your r
oom. They'll come-they'll find you here."

  Harold nodded. He took in the situation like lightning. For the

  moment, Philip Clayton was hors de combat.

  But Elsie's scream might have been heard. If he were found in her room

  it could only cause embarrassment and misunderstanding. Both for her

  sake and his own there must be no scandal.

  As noiselessly as possible, he sprinted down the passage and back into

  his room. just as he reached it, he heard the sound of an opening door.

  He sat in his room for nearly half an hour, waiting.

  He dared not go out. Sooner or later, he felt sure, Elsie would come.

  There was a light tap on his door. Harold jumped up to open it.

  It was not Elsie who came in but her mother and Harold was aghast at her

  appearance. She looked suddenly years older. Her gray hair was

  disheveled and there were deep black circles under her eyes.

  He sprang up and helped her to a chair. She sat down, her breath coming

  1),ainfully.

  Harold said quickly, "You look all in, Mrs. Rice. Can I get you

  something?"

  She shook her head. "No. Never mind me. I'm all right, re,.tlly. It's

  only the shock. Mr. Waring, a terrible thing has lizil),petied."

  Harold asked, "Is Clayton seriously injured?"

  She caught her breath. "Worse than that. He's dead."

  The room spun round.

  A feeling of icy water trickling down his spine rendered Harold

  incal-)able of speech for a moment or two.

  He repeated dully, "Dead?"

  Mrs. Rice nodded.

  She said, and lier voice had the flat level tones of complete

  exhaustion, "The corner of that ni,-ti,])Ie ));Il)erweight (-atight ln

  right on the teinl)le zin(I lie fell 1);ick with his liea(i on the iron

  fender. I (ion't know ix.I(-Ii it was th;it killed Im-])ut he is

  certainly dead. I have seen de;itli often enotig to kdow."

  Disaster-that was the word that rang insistently in Harold's I)ra.

  Disaster, disaster, disaster....

  He said veliemetly, "It was an accident. I saw it happen."

  Mrs. Rice said sharply, "Of course it was an accident.

  I know that. Bttt-l)tit-is anyone else going to tillk so?

  I'm-frankly, I'm frightened, Harold! -I'Is isn't Egl;tnd."

  Harold said slowly, "I can confirm Elsie's stoi-v."

  Mrs. Rice said, "Yes, and she can confirm yours. Thiatthat is just

  itl"

  Harold's brain, naturally a keen and cautions one, saw her point. He

  reviewed the, %,Iiole thing and apl)recialed the weakness of their

  ])osition.

  He and Elsie had spent a good deal of their time together. -Then there

  was the I'act tlt they liz)(I been seell together in the pine woodsby

  one of the l'olisli NA-oillen tinder rather coinpi-osing

  cir(:tinist;tn(:es. -I'lie l'olisli ladies al)l)arently spoke no

  Etiglisli, but they nligilt fievertheless uderstatid it a little.

  -I-lie y-..onia ,,Iit li:we known the nieang of wor(ts like

  "je,,Ilotisy" and "husband" if she lizi(i clizlceci to overhear tlicir

  conversation. Anyway, it w;is (:Icir that it, ,.as soletlllg she lia(i

  said to Cl;tyto tli;it lia(i al-otised Is je;ilotisy. (I nowIs death.

  YVe Clayton li;i(l (lic(l, lie, Hai-ol(l, l(l been in Elsie Clayton's,

  ooiji. There w.,is tiotlling to show that

  he had not deliberately assaulted I'Ilip Claylf2n with the

  1);iperweight. Nothing to show that the jealous husband ha(i not

  actually fottd they-n together. There was only Is word and Elsie's.

  Would they be believed?

  A cold fear gripped him.

  He did not imagine-no, he really did not imaginethat either he or Elsie

  was in danger of being con(leinned to death for a murder they had not

  committed. Srely, in any case, it could be only a charge of

  manslaughter brotight against them. (Did they have mansialighter in

  these foreign countries?) But even if they were acquitted of I)Iame

  thei-e would have to be an inquiry-it would be reported in ;ill the

  1);il)ers. An English man and woman accuse(I-jealotis litisl)and-rising

  politician. Yes, it would me;tn the e(i of Is political career. IL

  would never survive a scandal like that.

  He s;tid on a impulse, "Can't we get rid of the body somehow? Plant it

  somewhere?"

  Mrs. Rice's astonished and scornful look made him blush.

  She said incisively, "My dear Harold, this isn't a detective storyl To

  attempt a thing like that would be quite crazy."

  "I suppose it would." He groaned. "What can we do?

  My Go(l, what can we do?"

  Mrs. Rice shook her head despairingly. She was frowning, her (I

  working 1)ainfully.

  Harold demanded, "Isn't there anything we can do?

  Anything to avoid this frightful disaster?"

  There, it was out-disasterl Terrible-unforseen-utterly daing.

  They stared at each other.

  Mrs. Rice said lioarsely, "Elsie-my little girl. I'd do anything. . .

  . It will kill lier if she lias to go through a tlng like this." And

  she added, "You, too' your careerevei,ytlng."

  Harold managed to say, "Never mind me."

  But he did not really mean it.

  Mi-s. Rice went on bitterly: "And all so unfair-so

  utterly untruel It's not as though there had ever been anything between

  you. I know that well enough."

  Harold suggested, catching at a straw, "You'll be able to say that at

  least-that it was all perfectly all right."

  Mrs. Rice said bitterly, "Yes, if they believe me. But you know what

  these people out here are likel"

  Harold agreed gloomily. To the Continental mind, there would

  undoubtedly be a guilty connection between himself and Elsie, and all

  Mrs. Rice's denials would be taken as a mother lying herself black in

  the face for her daughter.

  Harold said gloomily, "Yes, we're not in England, worse luck."

  "Ahl" Mrs. Rice lifted her head. "That's true. It's not England. I

  wonder now if something could be done-"

  "Yes?" Harold looked at her eagerly.

  Mrs. Rice said abruptly, "How much money have you got?"

  "Not much with me." He added, "I could wire for money, of course."

  Mrs. Rice said grimly, "We may need a good deal. But I think it's

  worth trying."

  Harold felt a faint lifting of despair.

  He said, "What is your idea?"

  Mrs. Rice spoke decisively. "We haven't a 'chance of concealing the

  death ourselves, but I do think there's just a chance of hushing it up

  officially!"

  "You really think so?" Harold was hopeful but slightly incredulous.

  "Yes, for one thing the manager of the hotel will be on our side. He'd

  much rather have the tlng liuslie(I up.

  It's my opinion that in these out-of-the-way, clirioils little Balkan

  countries you can bribe anyone an(i everyoneajid the police are probably

  more corrupt than anyone else! "

  Harold said slowly, "Do you know, I believe you're right."

  Mrs. Rice went on: "Fortunately, I don't think anyone in the hotel

  heard anything."

  "Who has the room next to Elsie's on the other side from yours?"

  "The two Polish ladies. They didn't hear anything.

  They'd
have come out into the passage if they had. Philip arrived late,

  nobody saw him but the night porter. Do you know, Harold, I believe it

  will be possible to hush the whole thing up-and get Philip's death

  certified as due to natural causest It's just a question of bribing high

  enough-and finding the right man-probably the Chief of Policel"

  Harold smiled faintly. He said, "It's rather comic-opera, isn't it?

  Well, after all, we can but try."

  Mrs. Rice was energy personified. First, the manager was summoned.

  Harold remained in his room, keeping out of it. He and Mrs. Rice had

  agreed that the story told had better be that of a quarrel between

  husband and wife. Elsie's youth and prettiness would command more

  sympathy.

  On the following morning various police officials arrived and were shown

  up to Mrs. Rice's bedroom. They left at midday. Harold had wired for

  money but otherwise had taken no part in the proceedings-indeed he would

  have been unable to do so since none of these official personages spoke

  English.

  At twelve o'clock Mrs. Rice came to his room. She looked white and

  tired, but the relief on her face told- its own story.

  She said simply, "It's workedl"

  "Thank heavenl You've really been marvelousl It seems incredible!"

  Mrs. Rice said thoughtfully, "By the ease with which it went, you might

  almost think it was quite normal.

  They practically held out their hands right away. It'sit's rather

  disgusting, reallyl"

  Harold said (tryly, "This isn't the moment to quarrel with the

  corruption of the public services. How much?"

  "The tariff's rather high."

  She read out a list of figures.

  The Chief of Police

  The Superintendent

  The Agent

  The Doctor

  The Hotel Manager

  The Night Porter

  Harold's comment was merely: "The night porter doesn't get much, does

  he? I suppose it's mostly a question of gold lace."

  Mrs. Itice explained, "The manager stipulated that the death sliotild

  not have taken I)I;ice in Is hotel at all. The offi( -, tl story will

  be that Philil) lia(l a lie;ti-t att,.I(:k in the train. He wetit along

  the corridor for air-yon kiloxi! how they always leave those dooi-s

  ol-)en-an(I lie fell otit on the line. It's wonderful what the police

  can do wlie they try I

  "Well," said Harold. "Thank God our police force isn't like that."

  And in a British and superior mood he went down to lunch.

  After lunch Harold usually joined Mrs. Rice and her daughter for

  coffee. He decided to make no change in his ustial beliavior.

  This was the first time he had seen Elsie since the night before. Slie

  was very pale and was obviously still suffering from shock, but she made

  a gallant endeavor to beli;tve as usual, uttering small commonplaces

  about the weather and the scenery.

  They conented on a new guest who had just arrived, trying to guess Is

  nationality. Harold thotight a ilitistaclie like that must be

  French-Elsie said Geran-and Mrs. Rice thought lie might be Spanish.

  There was no one else but themselves on the terrace with the exception

  of the two Polish ladies wlio were sitting at the extreme end, both

  doing fancy work.

  As always when he saw them, Haroltl felt ;(Itieer shiver of apprehension

  pass over him. Those still faces, those

  curved beaks of noses, those long clawlike hands ...

  A page boy approached and told Mrs. Rice she was wanted. She rose and

 

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