Body in the Library - Agatha Christie [21]
Superintendent Harper murmured encouragingly:
“So your mother and your Uncle Mark didn’t like Ruby Keene much? Why was that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. She was always butting in. And they didn’t like Grandfather making such a fuss of her. I expect,” said Peter cheerfully, “that they’re glad she’s dead.”
Superintendent Harper looked at him thoughtfully. He said: “Did you hear them—er—say so?”
“Well, not exactly. Uncle Mark said: ‘Well, it’s one way out, anyway,’ and Mums said: ‘Yes, but such a horrible one,’ and Uncle Mark said it was no good being hypocritical.”
The men exchanged glances. At that moment a respectable, clean-shaven man, neatly dressed in blue serge, came up to them.
“Excuse me, gentlemen. I am Mr. Jefferson’s valet. He is awake now and sent me to find you, as he is very anxious to see you.”
Once more they went up to Conway Jefferson’s suite. In the sitting room Adelaide Jefferson was talking to a tall, restless man who was prowling nervously about the room. He swung round sharply to view the newcomers.
“Oh, yes. Glad you’ve come. My father-in-law’s been asking for you. He’s awake now. Keep him as calm as you can, won’t you? His health’s not too good. It’s a wonder, really, that this shock didn’t do for him.”
Harper said:
“I’d no idea his health was as bad as that.”
“He doesn’t know it himself,” said Mark Gaskell. “It’s his heart, you see. The doctor warned Addie that he mustn’t be overexcited or startled. He more or less hinted that the end might come any time, didn’t he, Addie?”
Mrs. Jefferson nodded. She said:
“It’s incredible that he’s rallied the way he has.”
Melchett said dryly:
“Murder isn’t exactly a soothing incident. We’ll be as careful as we can.”
He was sizing up Mark Gaskell as he spoke. He didn’t much care for the fellow. A bold, unscrupulous, hawk-like face. One of those men who usually get their own way and whom women frequently admire.
“But not the sort of fellow I’d trust,” the Colonel thought to himself.
Unscrupulous—that was the word for him.
The sort of fellow who wouldn’t stick at anything….
III
In the big bedroom overlooking the sea, Conway Jefferson was sitting in his wheeled chair by the window.
No sooner were you in the room with him than you felt the power and magnetism of the man. It was as though the injuries which had left him a cripple had resulted in concentrating the vitality of his shattered body into a narrower and more intense focus.
He had a fine head, the red of the hair slightly grizzled. The face was rugged and powerful, deeply suntanned, and the eyes were a startling blue. There was no sign of illness or feebleness about him. The deep lines on his face were the lines of suffering, not the lines of weakness. Here was a man who would never rail against fate but accept it and pass on to victory.
He said: “I’m glad you’ve come.” His quick eyes took them in. He said to Melchett: “You’re the Chief Constable of Radfordshire? Right. And you’re Superintendent Harper? Sit down. Cigarettes on the table beside you.”
They thanked him and sat down. Melchett said:
“I understand, Mr. Jefferson, that you were interested in the dead girl?”
A quick, twisted smile flashed across the lined face.
“Yes—they’ll all have told you that! Well, it’s no secret. How much has my family said to you?”
He looked quickly from one to the other as he asked the question. It was Melchett who answered.
“Mrs. Jefferson told us very little beyond the fact that the girl’s chatter amused you and that she was by way of being a protégée. We have only exchanged half a dozen words with Mr. Gaskell.”
Conway Jefferson smiled.
“Addie’s a discreet creature, bless her. Mark would probably have been more outspoken. I think, Melchett, that I’d better tell you some facts rather fully. It’s important, in order that you should understand my attitude. And, to begin with, it’s necessary that I go back to