AgathaChristie-EasyToKill

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by Easy To Kill (lit)

short podgy fingers of Lord Easterfield had

  held it earlier that day in the drawing room

  at Ashe Manor. The Moorish knife with the

  sharp blade.

  Bridget felt slightly sick. She must play

  for time--yes, and she must make the woman

  talk--this lean gray woman whom nobody

  loved. It ought not to be difficult--not really.

  Because she must want to talk, oh, so

  badly--and the only person she could ever

  talk to was someone like Bridget--someone

  who was going to be silenced forever. Bridget

  said, in a faint thick voice, "What's that

  knife?"

  And then Miss Waynflete laughed. It was

  a horrible laugh, soft and musical and ladylike

  and quite inhuman. She said, "It's for

  you, Bridget. For you! I've hated you, you

  know, for a very long time."

  Bridget said, "Because I was going to

  marry Gordon Easterfield?"

  Miss Waynflete nodded. "You're clever.

  You're quite clever! This, you see, will be

  the crowning proof against him. You'll be

  found here, with your throat cut--and his

  knife, and his fingerprints on the knife!

  Clever, the way I asked to see it this morn

  ing! And then I slipped it into my bag, wrapped in a handkerchief, whilst you were upstairs. So easy! But the whole thing has

  been easy. I would hardly have believed it."

  Bridget said--still in the thick muffled

  voice of a person heavily drugged, "That's

  because you're so devilishly clever."

  Miss Waynflete laughed her ladylike little

  laugh again. She said, with a horrible kind of

  pride, "Yes, I always had brains, even as a

  girl. But they wouldn't let me do anything. I

  had to stay at home, doing nothing. And

  then Gordon--just a common bootmaker's

  son, but he had ambition. I knew--I knew

  he would rise in the world. And then he

  jilted me--jilted me! All because of that ridiculous

  business with the bird." Her hands

  made a queer gesture, as though she were

  twisting something. Again a wave of sickness

  passed over Bridget.

  "Gordon Ragg daring to jilt me. Colonel

  Waynflete's daughter! I swore I'd pay him

  out for that! I used to think about it night

  after night. And then we got poorer and

  poorer. The house had to be sold. He bought

  it! He came along, patronizing me, offering

  me a job in my own old home. How I hated

  him then! But I never showed my feelings.

  We were taught that as girls--a most valu-

  able training. That, I always think, is where

  breeding tells."

  She was silent a minute. Bridget watched

  her, hardly daring to breathe, lest she should

  stem the flow of words.

  Miss Waynflete went on softly, "All the

  time I was thinking and thinking. First of

  all, I just thought of killing him. That's when

  I began to read up criminology--quietly, you

  know--in the library. And really I found my

  reading came in most useful more than once

  later. The door of Amy's room, for instance, turning the key in the lock from the outside

  with pincers after I'd changed the bottles by

  her bed. How she snored, that girl. Quite

  disgusting, it was!" She paused. "Let me

  see, where was I?"

  That gift which Bridget had cultivated, which had charmed Lord Easterfield--the

  gift of the perfect listener--stood her in good

  stead now. Honoria Waynflete might be a

  homicidal maniac, but she was also something

  much more common than that. She

  was a human being who wanted to talk about

  herself. And with that class of human being

  Bridget was well fitted to cope. She said, and her voice had exactly the right invitation

  in it, "You meant at first to kill him."

  "Yes, but that didn't satisfy me--much

  too ordinary. It had to be something better

  than just killing. And then I got this idea. It

  just came to me. He should suffer for committing

  a lot of crimes of which he was quite

  innocent. He should be a murderer! He

  should be hanged for my crimes, Or else

  they'd say he was mad and he would be shut

  up all his life. That might be even better."

  She giggled now. A horrible little giggle. Her

  eyes were light and staring, with queer, elongated

  pupils.

  "As I told you, I read a lot of books on

  crime. I chose my victims carefully; there

  was not to be too much suspicion at first.

  You see"--her voice deepened--"I enjoyed

  the killing. That disagreeable woman, Lydia

  Horton--she'd patronized me--once she referred

  to me as an 'old maid.5 I was glad

  when Gordon quarreled with her. Two birds

  with one stone, I thought. Such fun, sitting

  by her bedside and slipping the arsenic in

  her tea, and then going out and telling the

  nurse how Mrs. Horton had complained of

  the bitter taste of Lord Easterfield's grapes!

  The stupid woman never repeated that, which was such a pity.

  "And then the others! As soon as I heard

  that Gordon had a grievance against anyone, it was so easy to arrange for an accident!

  And he was such a fool--such an incredible

  fool! I made him believe that there was something

  very special about him! That anyone

  who went against him suffered. He believed

  it quite easily. Poor dear Gordon, he'd believe

  anything. So gullible!"

  Bridget thought of herself saying to Luke

  scornfully, "Gordon! He could believe

  anything!" Easy? How easy! Poor pompous, credulous little Gordon. But she must learn

  more. Easy? This was easy too. She'd done

  it as a secretary for years. Quietly encouraged

  her employers to talk about themselves.

  And this woman wanted badly to talk, to

  boast about her own cleverness. Bridget murmured, "But how did you manage it all? I

  don't see how you could."

  "Oh, it was quite easy. It just needed

  organization! When Amy was discharged

  from the Manor, I engaged her at once. I

  think the hat-paint idea was quite clever--

  and the door being locked on the inside made

  me quite safe. But of course I was always

  safe, because I never had any motive, and

  you can't suspect anyone of murder if there

  isn't a motive. Carter was quite easy, too; he

  was lurching about in the fog, and I caught

  up with him on the footbridge and gave him

  a quick push. I'm really very strong, you

  know."

  She paused and the soft horrible little giggle

  came again. "The whole thing was such

  fun! I shall never forget Tommy's face when

  I pushed him off the window sill that day.

  He hadn't had the least idea." She leaned

  toward Bridget confidentially. "People are

  really very stupid, you know. I'd never realized

  that before."

  Bridget said very softly, "But then, you're

  unusually clever."

  "Yes, yes; perhaps y
ou're right."

  Bridget said, "Doctor Humbleby--that

  must have been more difficult?"

  "Yes, it was really amazing how that succeeded.

  It might not have worked, of course.

  But Gordon had been talking to everybody

  of his visit to the Wellerman Kreitz Laboratories, and I thought if I could manage it so

  that people remembered that visit and connected

  it afterwards--And Wonky Pooh's ear

  was really very nasty, a lot of discharge. I

  managed to run the point of my scissors into

  the doctor's hand, and then I was so distressed

  and insisted on putting on a dressing

  and bandaging it up. He didn't know the

  dressing had been infected first from Wonky

  Pooh's ear. Of course it mightn't have

  worked; it was just a long shot. I was delighted

  when it did--especially as Wonky

  Pooh had been Lavinia's cat."

  Her face darkened. "Lavinia Fullerton!

  She guessed. It was she who found Tommy

  that day. And then, when Gordon and old

  Doctor Humbleby had that row, she caught

  me looking at Humbleby. I was off my guard.

  I was just wondering exactly how I'd do it.

  And she knew! I turned round to find her

  watching me and--I gave myself away. I saw

  that she knew. She couldn't prove anything, of course; I knew that. But I was afraid, all

  the same, someone might believe her. I was

  afraid they might believe her at Scotland

  Yard. I felt sure that was where she was

  going that day. I was in the same train and I

  followed her.

  "The whole thing was so easy. She was on

  an island crossing Whitehall. I was close behind

  her. She never saw me. A big car came

  along and I shoved with all my might. I'm

  very strong! She went right down in front of

  it. I told the woman next to me I'd seen the

  number of the car and gave her the number

  of Gordon's Rolls. I hoped she'd repeat it to

  the police. It was lucky the car didn't stop.

  Some chauffeur joyriding without his master's

  knowledge, I suspect. Yes, I was lucky

  276

  there. I'm always lucky. That scene the other

  day with Rivers, and Luke Fitzwilliam as

  witness. I've had such fun with him, leading

  him along! Odd how difficult it was to make

  him suspect Gordon. But after Rivers' death

  he would be sure to do so. He must! And

  now--well, this will just finish the whole

  thing nicely."

  She got up and came toward Bridget.

  She said softly: "Gordon jilted me! He was

  going to marry you. All my life I've been

  disappointed. I've had nothing--nothing at

  all. ..."

  0 lean gray woman whom nobody loves

  She.

  was bending over her, smiling, with

  mad light eyes. The knife gleamed.

  With all her youth and strength, Bridget

  sprang. Like a tiger cat, she flung herself

  full force on the other woman, knocking her

  back, seizing her right wrist.

  Taken by surprise, Honoria Waynflete fell

  back before the onslaught. But then, after a

  moment's inertia, she began to fight. In

  strength there was no comparison between

  them. Bridget was young and healthy, with

  muscles toughened by games. Honoria

  Waynflete was a slender-built, fragile crea'T7'7

  ture. But there was one factor on which

  Bridget had not reckoned. Honoria

  Waynflete was mad. Her strength was the

  strength of the insane. She fought like a

  devil, and her insane strength was stronger

  than the sane muscled strength of Bridget.

  They swayed to and fro, and still Bridget

  strove to wrest the knife away from her, and

  still Honoria Waynflete hung on to it.

  And then, little by little, the mad woman's

  strength began to prevail. Bridget cried out

  now, "Luke! Help! Help!" But she had no

  hope of help coming. She and Honoria

  Waynflete were alone. Alone in a dead world.

  With a supreme effort, she wrenched the

  other's wrist back, and at last she heard the

  knife fall. The next minute Honoria

  Waynflete's two hands had fastened round

  her neck in a maniac's grasp, squeezing the

  life out of her. She gave one last choked cry.

  278

  Twenty-three

  luke was favorably impressed by the appearance

  of Superintendent Battle. He was a

  solid comfortable-looking man with a broad

  red face and a large handsome mustache. He

  did not exactly express brilliance at a first

  glance, but a second glance was apt to make

  an observant person thoughtful, for Superintendent

  Battle's eye was unusually shrewd.

  Luke did not make the mistake of underestimating

  him. He had met men of Battle's type before. He knew that they could be

  trusted, and that they invariably got results.

  He could not have wished for a better man

  to be put in charge of the case. When they

  were alone together, Luke said, "You're

  rather a big noise to be sent down on a case

  like this."

  Superintendent Battle smiled. "It may turn

  out to be a serious business, Mr. Fitzwilliam.

  ')'7Q

  When a man like Lord Easterfield is concerned, we don't want to have any mistakes."

  "I appreciate that. Are you alone?"

  "Oh, no. Got a detective sergeant with

  me. He's at the other pub, the Seven Stars, and his job is to keep an eye on his lordship."

  "I see."

  Battle asked, "In your opinion, Mr.

  Fitzwilliam, there's no doubt whatever?

  You're pretty sure of your man?"

  "On the facts, I don't see that any alternative

  theory is possible. Do you want me to

  give you the facts?"

  "I've had them, thank you, from Sir

  William."

  "Well, what do you think? I suppose it

  seems to you wildly unlikely that a man in

  Lord Easterfield's position should be a homicidal

  criminal?"

  "Very few things seem unlikely to me,"

  said Superintendent Battle. "Nothing's impossible

  in crime. That's what I've always

  said. If you were to tell me that a dear old

  maiden lady, or an archbishop, or a schoolgirl, was a dangerous criminal, I wouldn't

  say no. I'd look into the matter."

  "If you've heard the main facts of the case

  from Sir William, I'll just tell you what happened

  this morning," said Luke.

  He ran over briefly the main lines of his

  scene with Lord Easterfield. Superintendent

  Battle listened with a good deal of interest.

  He said, "You say he was fingering a knife.

  Did he make a special point of that knife, Mr. Fitzwilliam? Was he threatening with

  it?"

  "Not openly. He tested the edge in rather

  a nasty way--a kind of esthetic pleasure

  about that that I didn't care about. Miss Waynflete felt the same, I believe."

  "That's the lady you spoke about--the one

  who's known Lord Easte
rfield all her life, and was once engaged to marry him?"

  "That's right."

  Superintendent Battle said, "I think you

  can make your mind easy about the young

  lady, Mr. Fitzwilliam. I'll have someone put

  on to keep a sharp watch on her. With that, and with Jackson tailing his lordship, there

  ought to be no danger of anything happening."

  "You relieve my mind a good deal," said

  Luke.

  The superintendent nodded sympathetically.

  "It's a nasty position for you, Mr.

  Fitzwilliam. Worrying about Miss Conway.

  Mind you, I don't expect this will be an easy

  case. Lord Easterfield must be a pretty

  shrewd man. He will probably lie low for a

  good long while. That is, unless he's got to

  the last stage."

  "What do you call the last stage?" "A kind of swollen egoism where a criminal

  thinks he simply can't be found out.

  He's too clever and everybody else is too

  stupid. Then, of course, we get him."

  Luke nodded. He rose. "Well," he said,

  "I wish you luck. Let me help in any way I

  «

  can."

  "Certainly."

  "There's nothing that you can suggest?"

  Battle turned the question over in his

  mind. "I don't think so. Not at the moment.

  I just want to get the general hang of things

  in the place. Perhaps I could have another

  word with you in the evening?"

  "Rather."

  "I shall know better where we are then."

  Luke felt vaguely comforted and soothed.

  Many people had had that feeling after an

  interview with Superintendent Battle. He

  glanced at his watch. Should he go round

  and see Bridget before lunch? Better not, he

  thought. Miss Waynflete might feel that she

  had to ask him to stay for the meal and it

  might disorganize her housekeeping. Middleaged

  ladies, Luke knew from experience with

  aunts, were liable to be fussed over problems

  of housekeeping. He wondered if Miss

  Waynflete was an aunt? Probably.

  He had strolled out to the door of the inn.

  A figure in black hurrying down the street

  stopped suddenly when she saw him. "Mr.

  Fitzwilliam."

  "Mrs. Humbleby." He came forward and

  shook hands.

  She said, "I thought you had left."

  "No, only changed my quarters. I'm staying

  here now."

  "And Bridget? I heard she had left Ashe

 

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