A False Mirror - Charles Todd [139]
Mallory was gone on the words. Rutledge went back to the motorcar and helped Hamilton alight. He stood there, staring up at the house, then walked to the door and inside.
“If I’m going to jail, I’d rather pack my things before I see her.”
“Go ahead. You know the way. You’ll find Mr. Putnam in the passage outside her door.”
Hamilton found it difficult to climb the stairs but kept at it until he’d reached the top.
Rutledge heard a smothered exclamation as the rector recognized the man coming toward him. And then Putnam was greeting him anxiously, his concern for Hamilton overcoming his alarm.
Rutledge followed Hamilton up the steps and said, as Putnam turned toward him, “He needs to pack a valise. Can you help him?”
Putnam cast him a swift look, then said, “Of course. Are you in pain, man? Here, take my arm. Shouldn’t we send for a doctor? It might be best.”
Mallory had come back, standing by the door, calling quietly up the stairs, “The water’s on the boil. Do you know what you’re doing?”
In another fifteen minutes, the three men were downstairs once more. Mallory had taken the tea tray into the sitting room. Hamilton’s valise was left outside the door.
Hamilton and Mallory faced each other in stiff silence.
Mallory was the first to speak. “If I’ve caused you worry, I’m sorry. It was all I could think of, to keep myself safe. She’s your wife, and I have respected that. She will tell you as much.”
Hamilton said, “Thank you.” He found a chair and sat in it. “I’d like to see her now, if I may.”
Putnam said, “I’ll bring her to you.”
But they had finished their tea before Felicity Hamilton came down to the sitting room. She had dressed herself carefully, her hair shining in the light and her dark blue skirt nearly the same shade as Miranda Cole’s sweater.
“Matthew?” she said tentatively. “Are you all right?”
“As well as can be expected. I’ve given you a fright, I’m sorry.”
“We thought you were dead,” she wailed and started toward him. Then she stopped, not knowing quite what to do.
There was an awkward moment, before Putnam said, “You’ll want some tea, my dear. Come and sit here, by the fire.”
She hesitated, and then crossed the room to take the chair he offered her. He brought her a cup, like a good host, and went to stand by the windows, a watcher and a witness.
Mallory, his back to the wall, said, “Keep this short, Rutledge. We’re none of us at our best.”
Rutledge said, without preamble, “Someone has been mischiefmaking. At a guess it began when whoever it was watched Mr. Hamilton here walk down to the Mole for his morning stroll. Inspector Bennett believed it was Mallory, because there appeared to be a very good reason for him to wish Hamilton out of the way. We needn’t go into that. But I’ve come gradually to the conclusion that Bennett is wrong. And that’s why he’s not here this morning. I’ve got the three principals sitting in this room. A witness in Mr. Putnam. I expect what is said here to stay here. Do you understand me? Hamilton, I’m offering you a list of names. Tell me which one had a reason to kill you.”
Matthew Hamilton, surprise in his voice, said, “I’ve told you. Stratton threatened me. But I never believed he’d carry it out. If he’d been on the strand that morning, I’d have turned away and left him there. I’m not a fool. But I wasn’t afraid of him attacking me.”
“Who is Stratton?” both Mrs. Hamilton and Mallory asked in almost the same breath.
“A colleague,” Hamilton answered. “Go on, Rutledge.”
“George Reston.”
Mr. Putnam moved to say something, then thought better of it.
“He’s an angry man, filled with bitterness long before I knew him. He dislikes me, and I’ve never quite understood why. I dealt with his business partner. I still do. I rather believe that Thurston Caldwell would like to see me dead. But he daren’t touch me. Too many people would point a finger in his direction. That’s why I’ve stayed with him.”
“But they haven’t pointed at him, at least not here in Hampton Regis.”
“Then I was wrong, wasn’t I?”
“Mallory, here.”
“No, I