At Bertram's Hotel - Agatha Christie [70]
“You think your friend was really frightened of someone or something?”
“Yes I do.”
“Did she mention it to you or did you mention it to her?”
“Oh, I asked her outright. At first she said no and then she admitted that she was frightened. And I know she was,” went on Bridget violently. “She was in danger. She was quite sure of it. But I don’t know why or how or anything about it.”
“Your surety on this point relates to that particular morning, does it, the morning she had come back from Ireland?”
“Yes. Yes, that’s when I was so sure about it.”
“On the morning when she might have come back on the Irish Mail?”
“I don’t think it’s very likely that she did. Why don’t you ask her?”
“I probably shall do in the end. But I don’t want to call attention to that point. Not at the moment. It might just possibly make things more dangerous for her.”
Bridget opened round eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“You may not remember it, Miss Bridget, but that was the night, or rather the early morning, of the Irish Mail robbery.”
“Do you mean that Elvira was in that and never told me a thing about it?”
“I agree it’s unlikely,” said Father. “But it just occurred to me that she might have seen something or someone, or some incident might have occurred connected with the Irish Mail. She might have seen someone she knew, for instance, and that might have put her in danger.”
“Oh!” said Bridget. She thought it over. “You mean—someone she knew was mixed-up in the robbery.”
Chief-Inspector Davy got up.
“I think that’s all,” he said. “Sure there’s nothing more you can tell me? Nowhere where your friend went that day? Or the day before?”
Again visions of Mr. Bollard and the Bond Street shop rose before Bridget’s eyes.
“No,” she said.
“I think there is something you haven’t told me,” said Chief-Inspector Davy.
Bridget grasped thankfully at a straw.
“Oh, I forgot,” she said. “Yes. I mean she did go to some lawyers. Lawyers who were trustees, to find out something.”
“Oh, she went to some lawyers who were her trustees. I don’t suppose you know their name?”
“Their name was Egerton—Forbes Egerton and Something,” said Bridget. “Lots of names. I think that’s more or less right.”
“I see. And she wanted to find out something, did she?”
“She wanted to know how much money she’d got,” said Bridget.
Inspector Davy’s eyebrows rose.
“Indeed!” he said. “Interesting. Why didn’t she know herself?”
“Oh, because people never told her anything about money,” said Bridget. “They seem to think it’s bad for you to know actually how much money you have.”
“And she wanted to know badly, did she?”
“Yes,” said Bridget. “I think she thought it was important.”
“Well, thank you,” said Chief-Inspector Davy. “You’ve helped me a good deal.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Richard Egerton looked again at the official card in front of him, then up into the Chief-Inspector’s face.
“Curious business,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” said Chief-Inspector Davy, “a very curious business.”
“Bertram’s Hotel,” said Egerton, “in the fog. Yes it was a bad fog last night. I suppose you get a lot of that sort of thing in fogs, don’t you? Snatch and grab—handbags—that sort of thing?”
“It wasn’t quite like that,” said Father. “Nobody attempted to snatch anything from Miss Blake.”
“Where did the shot come from?”
“Owing to the fog we can’t be sure. She wasn’t sure herself. But we think—it seems the best idea—that the man may have been standing in the area.”
“He shot at her twice, you say?”
“Yes. The first shot missed. The commissionaire rushed along from where he was standing outside the hotel door and shoved her behind him just before the second shot.”
“So that he got hit instead, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Quite a brave chap.”
“Yes. He was brave,” said the Chief-Inspector. “His military record was very good. An Irishman.”
“What’s his name?”
“Gorman. Michael Gorman.”
“Michael Gorman.” Egerton frowned for a minute. “No,” he said. “For a moment I