ABC Murders - Agatha Christie [35]
We had come out through a garden gate on to the golf links. Crossing a corner of them, we passed over a stile into a steep, winding lane.
“This leads down to Elbury Cove,” explained Franklin Clarke. “But two years ago they made a new road leading from the main road to Broadsands and on to Elbury, so that now this lane is practically deserted.”
We went on down the lane. At the foot of it a path led between brambles and bracken down to the sea. Suddenly we came out on a grassy ridge overlooking the sea and a beach of glistening white stones. All round dark green trees ran down to the sea. It was an enchanting spot—white, deep green—and sapphire blue.
“How beautiful!” I exclaimed.
Clarke turned to me eagerly.
“Isn’t it? Why people want to go abroad to the Riviera when they’ve got this! I’ve wandered all over the world in my time and, honest to God, I’ve never seen anything as beautiful.”
Then, as though ashamed of his eagerness, he said in a more matter-of-fact tone:
“This was my brother’s evening walk. He came as far as here, then back up the path, and turning to the right instead of the left, went past the farm and across the fields back to the house.”
We proceeded on our way till we came to a spot near the hedge, halfway across the field where the body had been found.
Crome nodded.
“Easy enough. The man stood here in the shadow. Your brother would have noticed nothing till the blow fell.”
The girl at my side gave a quick shiver.
Franklin Clarke said:
“Hold up, Thora. It’s pretty beastly, but it’s no use shirking facts.”
Thora Grey—the name suited her.
We went back to the house where the body had been taken after being photographed.
As we mounted the wide staircase the doctor came out of a room, black bag in hand.
“Anything to tell us, doctor?” inquired Clarke.
The doctor shook his head.
“Perfectly simple case. I’ll keep the technicalities for the inquest. Anyway, he didn’t suffer. Death must have been instantaneous.”
He moved away.
“I’ll just go in and see Lady Clarke.”
A hospital nurse came out of a room farther along the corridor and the doctor joined her.
We went into the room out of which the doctor had come.
I came out again rather quickly. Thora Grey was still standing at the head of the stairs.
There was a queer scared expression on her face.
“Miss Grey—” I stopped. “Is anything the matter?”
She looked at me.
“I was thinking,” she said, “about D.”
“About D?” I stared at her stupidly.
“Yes. The next murder. Something must be done. It’s got to be stopped.”
Clarke came out of the room behind me.
He said:
“What’s got to be stopped, Thora?”
“These awful murders.”
“Yes.” His jaw thrust itself out aggressively. “I want to talk to M. Poirot some time…Is Crome any good?” He shot the words out unexpectedly.
I replied that he was supposed to be a very clever officer.
My voice was perhaps not as enthusiastic as it might have been.
“He’s got a damned offensive manner,” said Clarke. “Looks as though he knows everything—and what does he know? Nothing at all as far as I can make out.”
He was silent for a minute or two. Then he said:
“M. Poirot’s the man for my money. I’ve got a plan. But we’ll talk of that later.”
He went along the passage and tapped at the same door as the doctor had entered.
I hesitated a moment. The girl was staring in front of her.
“What are you thinking of, Miss Grey?”
She turned her eyes towards me.
“I’m wondering where he is now…the murderer, I mean. It’s not twelve hours yet since it happened…Oh! aren’t there any real clairvoyants who could see where he is now and what he is doing….”
“The police are searching—” I began.
My commonplace words broke the spell. Thora Grey pulled herself together.
“Yes,” she said. “Of course.”
In her turn she descended the staircase. I stood there a moment longer conning her words over in my mind.
A B C….
Where was he now…?
Sixteen
NOT FROM CAPTAIN HASTINGS’ PERSONAL NARRATIVE
Mr. Alexander Bonaparte Cust came out with the rest of the audience from the