The Murder at the Vicarage - Christie Agatha - Страница 36
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"Extraordinary," I commented.
I stooped down and examined the other pictures. They were very much what you would expect to find - some very mediocre landscapes, some oleographs and a few cheaply-framed reproductions.
There was nothing else helpful. A large old-fashioned trunk, of the kind that used to be called an "ark," had the initials E.P. upon it. I raised the lid. It was empty. Nothing else in the attic was the least suggestive.
"It really is a most amazing occurrence," I said. "It's so - senseless."
"Yes," said Anne. "That frightens me a little."
There was nothing more to see. I accompanied her down to her sitting-room where she closed the door.
"Do you think I ought to do anything about it? Tell the police?"
I hesitated.
"It's hard to say on the face of it whether -"
"It has anything to do with the murder or not," finished Anne. "I know. That's what is so difficult. On the face of it, there seems no connection whatever."
"No," I said, "but it is another Peculiar Thing."
We both sat silent with puzzled brows.
"What are your plans, if I may ask?" I said presently.
She lifted her head.
"I'm going to live here for at least another six months!" She said it defiantly. "I don't want to. I hate the idea of living here. But I think it's the only thing to be done. Otherwise people will say that I ran away - that I had a guilty conscience."
"Surely not."
"Oh! yes, they will. Especially when -" She paused and then said: "When the six months are up - I am going marry Lawrence." Her eyes met mine. "We're neither of us going to wait any longer."
"I supposed," I said, "that that would happen."
Suddenly she broke down, burying her head in her hands.
"You don't know how grateful I am to you - you don't know. We'd said good-bye to each other - he was going away. I feel - I feel not so awful about Lucius's death. If we'd been planning to go away together, and he'd died then - it would be so awful now. But you made us both see how wrong it would be. That's why I'm grateful."
"I, too, am thankful," I said gravely.
"All the same, you know," she sat up. "Unless the real murderer is found they'll always think it was Lawrence - oh! yes, they will. And especially when he marries me."
"My dear, Dr. Haydock's evidence made it perfectly clear -"
"What do people care about evidence? They don't even know about it. And medical evidence never means anything to outsiders anyway. That's another reason why I'm staying on here. Mr. Clement, I'm going to find out the truth."
Her eyes flashed as she spoke. She added:
"That's why I asked that girl here."
"Miss Cram?"
"Yes."
"You did ask her, then. I mean, it was your idea?"
"Entirely. Oh! as a matter of fact, she whined a bit. At the inquest - she was there when I arrived. No, I asked her here deliberately."
"But surely," I cried, "you don't think that that silly young woman could have anything to do with the crime?"
"It's awfully easy to appear silly, Mr. Clement. It's one of the easiest things in the world."
"Then you really think?"
"No, I don't. Honestly, I don't. What I do think is that that girl knows something - or might know something. I wanted to study her at close quarters."
"And the very night she arrives, that picture is slashed," I said thoughtfully.
"You think she did it? But why? It seems so utterly absurd and impossible."
"It seems to me utterly impossible and absurd that your husband should have been murdered in my study," I said bitterly. "But he was."
"I know." She laid her hand on my arm. "It's dreadful for you. I do realise that, though I haven't said very much about it."
I took the blue lapis lazuli ear-ring from my pocket and held it out to her.
"This is yours, I think?"
"Oh! yes." She held out her hand for it with a pleased smile. "Where did you find it?"
But I did not put the jewel into her outstretched hand.
"Would you mind," I said, "if I kept it a little longer?"
"Why, certainly." She looked puzzled and a little inquiring. I did not satisfy her curiosity.
Instead I asked her how she was situated financially.
"It is an impertinent question," I said, "but I really do not mean it as such."
"I don't think it's impertinent at all. You and Griselda are the best friends I have here. And I like that funny old Miss Marple. Lucius was very well off, you know. He left things pretty equally divided between me and Lettice. Old Hall goes to me, but Lettice is to be allowed to choose enough furniture to furnish a small house, and she is left a separate sum for the purpose of buying one, so as to even things up."
"What are her plans, do you know?"
Anne made a comical grimace.
"She doesn't tell them to me. I imagine she will leave here as soon as possible. She doesn't like me - she never has. I dare say it's my fault, though I've really always tried to be decent. But I suppose any girl resents a young stepmother."
"Are you fond of her?" I asked bluntly.
She did not reply at once, which convinced me that Anne Protheroe is a very honest woman.
"I was at first," she said. "She was such a pretty little girl. I don't think I am now. I don't know why. Perhaps it's because she doesn't like me. I like being liked, you know."
"We all do," I said, and Anne Protheroe smiled.
I had one more task to perform. That was to get a word alone with Lettice Protheroe. I managed that easily enough, catching sight of her in the deserted drawing-room. Griselda and Gladys Cram were out in the garden.
I went in and shut the door.
"Lettice," I said, "I want to speak to you about something."
She looked up indifferently.
"Yes?"
I had thought beforehand what to say. I held out the lapis ear-ring and said quietly:
"Why did you drop that in my study?"
I saw her stiffen for a moment - it was almost instantaneous. Her recovery was so quick that I myself could hardly have sworn to the movement. Then she said carelessly:
"I never dropped anything in your study. That's not mine. That's Anne's."
"I know that," I said.
"Well, why ask me, then? Anne must have dropped it."
"Mrs. Protheroe has only been in my study once since the murder, and then she was wearing black and so would not have been likely to have had on a blue ear-ring."
"In that case," said Lettice, "I suppose she must have dropped it before." She added: "That's only logical."
"It's very logical," I said. "I suppose you don't happen to remember when your stepmother was wearing these ear-rings last?"
"Oh!" She looked at me with a puzzled, trustful gaze. "Is it very important?"
"It might be," I said.
"I'll try and think." She sat there knitting her brows. I have never seen Lettice Protheroe look more charming than she did at that moment. "Oh! yes," she said suddenly. "She had them on - on Thursday. I remember now."
"Thursday," I said slowly, "was the day of the murder. Mrs. Protheroe came to the study in the garden that day, but if you remember, in her evidence, she only came as far as the study window, not inside the room."
"Where did you find this?"
"Rolled underneath the desk."
"Then it looks, doesn't it," said Lettice coolly, "as though she hadn't spoken the truth?"
"You mean that she came right in and stood by the desk?"
"Well, it looks like it, doesn't it?"
Her eyes met mine serenely.
"If you want to know," she said calmly, "I never have thought she was speaking the truth."
"And I know you are not, Lettice."
"What do you mean?"
She was startled.
"I mean," I said, "that the last time I saw this ear-ring was on Friday morning when I came up here with Colonel Melchett. It was lying with its fellow on your stepmother's dressing-table. I actually handled them both."
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