Agatha Christie - They Do It With Mirrors

by Murder

  In an odd way, the tables seemed to have been turned.

  It did not seem as though Lewis Serrocold had come into the room to answer police questioning. It seemed rather that Lewis Serrocold had arrived to preside over a court of inquiry. It irritated Inspector Curry a little.

  He said briskly:

  'Now, Mr Serrocold -'

  Lewis Serrocold still seemed lost in thought. He said with a sigh: 'How difficult it is to know the right thing to do.' Inspector Curry said: 'I think we will be the judges of that, Mr Serrocold.

  Now about Mr Gulbrandsen, he arrived unexpectedly, I understand?' 'Quite unexpectedly.' 'You did not know he was coming.' 'I had not the least idea of it.' 'And you have no idea of why he came?' Lewis Serrocold said quietly: 'Oh yes, I know why he came. He told me.' 'When?' 'I walked up from the station. He was watching from the house and came out to meet me. It was then that he explained what had brought him here.' 'Business connected with the Gulbrandsen Institute, I suppose?' 'Oh no, it was nothing to do with the Gulbrandsen Institute.' 'Miss Bellever seemed to think it was.' 'Naturally. That would be the assumption. Gulbrandsen did nothing to correct that impression. Neither did I.' 'Why, Mr Serrocold?' Lewis Serrocold said slowly: 'Because it seemed to both of us important that no hint should arise as to the real purpose of his visit.' 'What was the real purpose?' Lewis Serrocold was silent for a minute or two. He sighed.

  'Gulbrandsen came over here regularly twice a year for meetings of the trustees. The last meeting was only a month ago. Consequently he was not due to come over again for another five months. I think, therefore, that anyone might realize that the business that brought him must definitely be urgent business, but I still think that the normal assumption would be that it was a business visit, and that the matter, however urgent - would be a Trust matter. As far as I know, Gulbrandsen did nothing to contradict that impression - or thought he didn't. Yes, perhaps that is nearer the truth - he thought he didn't.' 'I'm afraid, Mr Serrocold, that I don't quite follow you.' Lewis Serrocold did not answer at once. Then he said gravely: 'I fully realize that with Gulbrandsen's death - Which was murder, undeniably murder, I have got to put all the facts before you. But frankly, I am concerned for my wife's happiness and peace of mind. It is not for me to dictate to you, Inspector, but if you can see your way to keeping certain things from her as far as possible I shall be grateful. You see, Inspector Curry, Christian Gulbrandsen came here expressly to tell me that he believed my wife was being slowly and cold-bloodedly poisoned.' 'What?' Curry leaned forward incredulously.

  Serrocold nodded.

  'Yes, it was, as you can imagine, a tremendous shock to me. I had had no suspicion of such a thing myself, but as soon as Christian told me, I realized that certain symptoms my wife had complained of lately were quite compatible with that belief. What she took to be rheumatism, leg cramps, pain, and occasional sickness.

  All that fits in very well with the symptoms of arsenical poisoning.' 'Miss Marple told us that Christian Gulbrandsen asked her about the condition of Mrs Serrocold's heart.' 'Did he now? That's interesting. I suppose he thought that a heart poison would be used since it paved the way to a sudden death without undue suspicion. But I think myself that arsenic is more likely.' 'You definitely think, then, that Christian Gulbrandsen's suspicions were well founded?' 'Oh yes, I think so. For one thing, Gulbrandsen would hardly come to me with such a suggestion unless he was fairly sure of his facts. He was a cautious and hardheaded man, difficult to convince, but very shrewd.' 'What was his evidence?' 'We had no time to go into that. Our interview was a hurried one. It served only the purpose of explaining his visit, and a mutual agreement that nothing whatever should be said to my wife about the matter until we were sure of our facts.' 'And whom did he suspect of administering poison?' 'He did not say, and actually I don't think he knew. He may have suspected. I think now that he probably did suspect - otherwise why should he be killed?' 'But he mentioned no name to you?' 'He mentioned no name. We agreed that we must investigate the matter thoroughly, and he suggested inviting the advice and co-operation of Dr Galbraith, the Bishop of Cromer. Dr Galbraith is a very old friend of the Gulbrandsens and is one of the trustees of the Institute.

  He is a man of great wisdom and experience and would be of infinite help and comfort to my wife if - if it was necessary to tell her of our suspicions. We meant to rely on his advice as to whether or not to consult the police.' 'Quite extraordinary,' said Curry.

  'Gulbrandsen left us after dinner to write to Dr Galbraith. He was actually in the act of typing a letter to him when he was shot.'

  'How do you know?' Lewis said calmly: 'Because I took the letter out of the typewriter. I have it here.' From his breast pocket, he drew out a folded typewritten sheet of paper and handed it to Curry.

  The latter said sharply: 'You shouldn't have taken this, or touched anything in the room.' 'I touched nothing else. I know that I committed an unpardonable offence in your eyes in moving this, but I had a very strong reason. I felt certain that my wife would insist on coming into the room and I was afraid that she might read something of what is written here. I admit myself in the wrong, but I am afraid I would do the same again. I would do anything - anything - to save my wife unhappiness.' Inspector Curry said no more for the moment. He read the typewritten sheet.

  Dear Dr Galbraith. If it is at all possible, I beg that you will come to Stonygates as soon as you receive this. ,4 crisis of extraordinary gravity has arisen and I am at a loss how to deal with it. I know how deep your affection is for our dear Carrie Louise, and how grave your concern will be for anything that affects her. How much has she got to know?

  How much can we keep from her? Those are the questions that I find difficult to answer.

  Not to beat about the bush, I have reason to believe that that sweet and innocent lady is being slowly poisoned. I first suspected this when Here the letter broke off abruptly.

  Curry said: 'And when he had reached this point Christian

  Gulbrandsen was shot?'

  'Yes.'

  'But why on earth was this letter in the typewriter?' 'I can only conceive of two reasons - one, that the murderer had no idea to whom Gulbrandsen was writing and what was the subject of the letter. Secondly - he may not have had time. He may have heard someone coming and only had just time to escape unobserved.'

  'And Gulbrandsen gave you no hint as to whom he suspected - if he did suspect anyone?'

  There was, perhaps, a very slight pause before Lewis answered.

  'None whatever.'

  He added, rather obscurely:

  'Christian was a very fair man.'

  'How do you think this poison, arsenic or whatever it may be - was or is being administered?'

  'I thought over that whilst I was changing for dinner and it seemed to me that the most likely vehicle was some medicine, a tonic, that my wife was taking. As regards food, we all partake of the same dishes and my wife has nothing specially prepared for her. But anyone could add arsenic to the medicine bottle.'

  'We must take the medicine and have it analysed.' Lewis said quietly:

  'I already have a sample of it. I took it this evening before dinner.'

  From a drawer {n the desk he took out a small corked bottle with a red fluid in it.

  Inspector Curry said with a curious glance:

  'You think of everything, Mr Serrocold.'

  'I believe in acting promptly. Tonight, I stopped my wife from taking her usual dose. It is still in a glass on the oak dresser in the Hall - the bottle of tonic itself is in the dining-room.' Curry leaned forward across the desk. He lowered his voice and spoke confidentially and without officialdom.

  'You'll excuse me, Mr Serrocold, but just why are you so anxious to keep this from your wife? Are you afraid she'd panic? Surely, for her own sake, it would be as well if she were warned.' 'Yes - yes, that may well be so. But I don't think you quite understand. Without knowing my wife Caroline, it would be difficult. My wife, Inspector Curry, is an idealist,
a completely trustful person. Of her it may truly be said that she sees no evil, hears no evil, and speaks no evil. It would be inconceivable to her that anyone could wish to kill her. But we have to go farther than that. It is not just "anyone." It is a case - surely you see that - of someone possibly very near and dear to her...' 'So that's what you think?' 'We have got to face facts. Close at hand we have a couple of hundred warped and stunted personalities who have expressed themselves often enough by crude and senseless violence. But by the very nature of things, none of them can be suspect in this case. A slow poisoner is someone living in the intimacy of family life. Think of the people who are here in this house; her husband, her daughter, her granddaughter, her granddaughter's husband, her stepson whom she regards as her own son, Miss Believer her devoted companion and friend of many years. All very near and dear to her - and yet the suspicion must arise - is it one of them?' Curry said slowly: 'There are outsiders '

  'Yes, in a sense. There is Dr Maverick, one or two of the staff are often with us, there are the servants - but frankly, what possible motive could they have?' Inspector Curry said:

  'And there's young - what is his name again - Edgar Lawson?.'

  'Yes. But he has only been down here as a casual visitor just lately. He has no possible motive. Besides, he is deeply attached to Caroline - just as everyone is.'

  'But he's unbalanced. What about this attack on you tonight?'

  Serrocold waved it aside impatiently.

  'Sheer childishness. He had no intention of harming me.'

  'Not with these two bullet holes in the wall? He shot at you, didn't he?'

  'He didn't mean to hit me. It was play-acting, no more.'

  'Rather a dangerous form of play-acting, Mr Serrocold.'

  'You don't understand. You must talk to our psychia-trist, Dr Maverick. Edgar is an illegitimate child. He has consoled himself for his lack of a father and a humble origin by pretending to himself that he is the son of a celebrated man. It's a well-known phenomenon, I assure you. He was improving, improving very much. Then, for some reason, he had a set-back. He identified me as his "father" and made a melodramatic attack, waving a revolver and uttering threats. I was not in the least alarmed. When he had actually fired the revolver, he broke down and sobbed and Dr Maverick took him away and gave him a sedative. He'll probably be quite normal tomorrow morning.' 'You don't wish to bring a charge against him?' 'That would be the worst thing possible - for him, I mean.' 'Frankly, Mr Serrocold, it seems to me he ought to be under restraint. People who go about firing off revolvers to bolster up their egos -I One has to think of the community, you know.' 'Talk to Dr Maverick on the subject,' urged Lewis.

  'He'll give you the professional point of view. In any case,' he added, 'poor Edgar certainly did not shoot Gulbrandsen. He was in here threatening to shoot me.' 'That's the point I was coming to, Mr Serrocold.

  We've covered the outside. Anyone, it seems, could have come in from outside, and shot Mr Gulbrandsen, since the terrace door was unlocked. But there is a narrower field inside the house, and in view of what you have been telling me, it seems to me that very close attention must be paid to that. It seems possible that, with the exception of old Miss - er - yes, Marple, who happened to be looking out of her bedroom window, no one was aware that you and Christian Gulbrandsen had already had a private interview. If so, Gulbrandsen may have been shot to prevent him communicating his suspicions to you. Of course it is too early to say as yet what other motives may exist. Mr Gulbrandsen was a wealthy man, I presume?' 'Yes, he was a very wealthy man. He has sons and daughters and grandchildren - all of them will probably benefit by his death. But I do not think that any of his family are in this country, and they are all solid and highly respectable people. As far as I know, there are no black sheep amongst them.' 'Had he any enemies?'

  'I should think it most unlikely. He was - really, he was not that type of man.'

  'So it boils down, doesn't it, to this house and the people in it? Who from inside the house could have killed him?'

  Lewis Serrocold said slowly:

  'That is difficult for me to say. There are the servants and the members of my household and our guests. They are, from your point of view, all possibilities, I suppose.

  I can only tell you that, as far as I know, everyone except the servants was in the Great Hall when Christian left it, and whilst I was there, nobody left it.'

  'Nobody at all?'

  'I think' - Lewis frowned in an effort of remembrance - 'oh yes. Some of the lights fused - Mr Walter Hudd went to see to it.'

  'That's the young American gentleman?'

  'Yes - of course I don't know what took place after Edgar and I came in here.'

  'And you can't give me anything nearer than that, Mr Serrocold?'

  Lewis Serrocold shook his head.

  'No, I'm afraid I can't help you. It's - it's all quite inconceivable.'

  Inspector Curry sighed. He said: 'Mr Gulbrandsen was shot with a small automatic pistol. Do you know if anyone in the house has such a weapon?'

  'I have no idea, I should think it most unlikely.' Inspector Curry sighed again. He said:

  'You can tell the party that they can all go to bed. I'll talk to them tomorrow.'

  When Serrocold had left the room, Inspector Curry said to Lake: 'Well - what do you think?'

  'Knows - or thinks he knows, who did it,' said L, 'Yes. I agree with you. And he doesn't lille it a bit."

  CHAPTER 11

  Gina greeted Miss Marple with a rush as the latter came down to breakfast the next morning.

  'The police are here again,' she said. 'They're in the library this time. Wally is absolutely fascinated by them.

  He can't understand their being so quiet and so remote.

  I think he's really quite thrilled by the whole thing. I'm not. I hate it. I think it's horrible. Why do you think I'm so upset? Because I'm half Italian?'

  'Very possibly. At least perhaps it explains why you don't mind showing what you feel.'

  Miss Marple smiled just a little as she said this.

  'Jolly's frightfully cross,' said Gina, hanging on Miss Marple's arm and propelling her into the dining-room. 'I think really because the police are in charge and she can't exactly "run" them like she runs everybody else.

  'Alex and Stephen,' continued Gina severely, as they came into the dining-room where the two brothers were finishing their breakfast, 'just don't care.'

  'Gina dearest,' said Alex, 'you are most unkind. Good morning, Miss Marple. I care intensely. Except for the fact that I hardly knew your Uncle Christian, I'm far and away the best suspect. You do realize that, I hope.' 'Why?'

  'Well, I was driving up to the house at about the right time, it seems. And they've been checking up on things, and it seems that I took too much time between the lodge and the house - time enough, the implication is, to leave the car, run round the house, go in through the side door, shoot Christian and rush out and back to the car again.' 'And what were you really doing?'

  'I thought little girls were taught quite young not to ask indelicate questions. Like an idiot, I stood for several minutes taking in the fog effect in the headlights and thinking what I'd use to get that effect on a stage. For my new "Limehouse" ballet.'

  'But you can tell them that!'

  'Naturally. But you know what policemen are like.

  They say "thank you" very civilly and write it all down, and you've no idea what they are thinking except that one does feel they have rather sceptical minds.'

  'It would amuse me to see you in a spot, Alex,' said Stephen with his thin, rather cruel smile. 'Now,/'m quite all right! I never left the Hall last night.'

  Gina cried, 'But they couldn't possibly think it was one of us!'

  Her dark eyes were round and dismayed.

  'Don't say it must have been a tramp, dear,' said Alex, helping himself lavishly to marmalade. 'It's so hackneyed.'

  Miss Believer looked in at the door and said:

  'Miss Marple, wh
en you have finished your breakfast, will you go to the library?'

  'You again,' said Gina. 'Before any of us.' She seemed a little injured.

  'Hi, what was that?' asked Alex.

  'Didn't hear anything,' said Stephen.

  'It was a pistol shot.'

  'They've been firing shots in the room where Uncle Christian was killed,' said Gina. 'I don't know why. And outside too.' The door opened again and Mildred Strete came in.

  She was wearing black with some onyx beads.

  She murmured good morning without looking at anyone and sat down.

  In a hushed voice she said: