Cat Among the Pigeons - Agatha Christie [42]
Miss Springer had come new this term, and she wasn’t as much liked as Miss Jones who’d held the post before her. Miss Shapland was new, too, but she was a nice young lady, Mademoiselle Blanche was like all the Frenchies—thought the other mistresses were against her and let the young ladies treat her something shocking in class. “Not a one for crying, though,” Mrs. Gibbons admitted. “Some schools I’ve been in the French mistresses used to cry something awful!”
Most of the domestic staff were dailies. There was only one other maid who slept in the house, and she proved equally uninformative, though able to hear what was said to her. She couldn’t say, she was sure. She didn’t know nothing. Miss Springer was a bit sharp in her manner. She didn’t know nothing about the Sports Pavilion nor what was kept there, and she’d never seen nothing like a pistol nowhere.
This negative spate of information was interrupted by Miss Bulstrode. “One of the girls would like to speak to you, Inspector Kelsey,” she said.
Kelsey looked up sharply. “Indeed? She knows something?”
“As to that I’m rather doubtful,” said Miss Bulstrode, “but you had better talk to her yourself. She is one of our foreign girls. Princess Shaista—niece of the Emir Ibrahim. She is inclined to think, perhaps, that she is of rather more importance than she is. You understand?”
Kelsey nodded comprehendingly. Then Miss Bulstrode went out and a slight dark girl of middle height came in.
She looked at them, almond-eyed and demure.
“You are the police?”
“Yes,” said Kelsey smiling, “we are the police. Will you sit down and tell me what you know about Miss Springer?”
“Yes, I will tell you.”
She sat down, leaned forward, and lowered her voice dramatically.
“There have been people watching this place. Oh, they do not show themselves clearly, but they are there!”
She nodded her head significantly.
Inspector Kelsey thought that he understood what Miss Bulstrode had meant. This girl was dramatizing herself—and enjoying it.
“And why should they be watching the school?”
“Because of me! They want to kidnap me.”
Whatever Kelsey had expected, it was not this. His eyebrows rose.
“Why should they want to kidnap you?”
“To hold me to ransom, of course. Then they would make my relations pay much money.”
“Er—well—perhaps,” said Kelsey dubiously. “But—er—supposing this is so, what has it got to do with the death of Miss Springer?”
“She must have found out about them,” said Shaista. “Perhaps she told them she had found out something. Perhaps she threatened them. Then perhaps they promised to pay her money if she would say nothing. And she believed them. So she goes out to the Sports Pavilion where they say they will pay her the money, and then they shoot her.”
“But surely Miss Springer would never have accepted blackmail money?”
“Do you think it is such fun to be a schoolteacher—to be a teacher of gymnastics?” Shaista was scornful. “Do you not think it would be nice instead to have money, to travel, to do what you want? Especially someone like Miss Springer who is not beautiful, at whom men do not even look! Do you not think that money would attract her more than it would attract other people?”
“Well—er—” said Inspector Kelsey, “I don’t know quite what to say.” He had not had this point of view presented to him before.
“This is just—er—your own idea?” he said. “Miss Springer never said anything to you?”
“Miss Springer never said anything except ‘Stretch and bend,’ and ‘Faster,’ and ‘Don’t slack,’” said Shaista with resentment.
“Yes—quite so. Well, don’t you think you may have imagined all this about kidnapping?”
Shaista was immediately much annoyed.
“You do not understand at all! My cousin was Prince Ali Yusuf of Ramat. He was killed in a revolution, or at least in fleeing from a revolution. It was understood that when I grew up I should marry him. So you see I am an important person. It may be perhaps the Communists who come here. Perhaps it is not to kidnap. Perhaps they intend to assassinate me.”
Inspector Kelsey looked still more incredulous.
“That