Crooked House - Agatha Christie [62]
“I know just how he feels,” cried Magda.
“I’m sure you do,” said Edith with acidity in her tone.
“The poor sweet! I must go after him.”
“Now, Magda—” Edith hurried after her.
Their voices died away. Sophia remained looking at Philip. There was, I think, a certain pleading in her glance. If so, it got no response. He looked at her coldly, quite in control of himself once more.
“You played your cards very well, Sophia,” he said and went out of the room.
“That was a cruel thing to say,” I cried. “Sophia—”
She stretched out her hands to me. I took her in my arms.
“This is too much for you, my sweet.”
“I know just how they feel,” said Sophia.
“That old devil, your grandfather, shouldn’t have let you in for this.”
She straightened her shoulders.
“He believed I could take it. And so I can. I wish—I wish Eustace didn’t mind so much.”
“He’ll get over it.”
“Will he? I wonder. He’s the kind that broods terribly. And I hate father being hurt.”
“Your mother’s all right.”
“She minds a bit. It goes against the grain to have to come and ask your daughter for money to put on plays. She’ll be after me to put on the Edith Thompson one before you can turn round.”
“And what will you say? If it keeps her happy….”
Sophia pulled herself right out of my arms, her head went back.
“I shall say No! It’s a rotten play and mother couldn’t play the part. It would be throwing the money away.”
I laughed softly. I couldn’t help it.
“What is it?” Sophia demanded suspiciously.
“I’m beginning to understand why your grandfather left you his money. You’re a chip off the old block, Sophia.”
Twenty-one
My one feeling of regret at this time was that Josephine was out of it all. She would have enjoyed it all so much.
Her recovery was rapid and she was expected to be back any day now, but nevertheless she missed another event of importance.
I was in the rock garden one morning with Sophia and Brenda when a car drew up to the front door. Taverner and Sergeant Lamb got out of it. They went up the steps and into the house.
Brenda stood still, staring at the car.
“It’s those men,” she said. “They’ve come back, and I thought they’d given up—I thought it was all over.”
I saw her shiver.
She had joined us about ten minutes before. Wrapped in her chinchilla coat, she had said: “If I don’t get some air and exercise, I shall go mad. If I go outside the gate there’s always a reporter waiting to pounce on me. It’s like being besieged. Will it go on for ever?”
Sophia said that she supposed the reporters would soon get tired of it.
“You can go out in the car,” she added.
“I tell you I want to get some exercise.”
Then she said abruptly:
“You’re giving Laurence the sack, Sophia. Why?”
Sophia answered quietly:
“We’re making other arrangements for Eustace. And Josephine is going to Switzerland.”
“Well, you’ve upset Laurence very much. He feels you don’t trust him.”
Sophia did not reply and it was at that moment that Taverner’s car had arrived.
Standing there, shivering in the moist autumn air, Brenda muttered: “What do they want? Why have they come?”
I thought I knew why they had come. I said nothing to Sophia of the letters I had found by the cistern, but I knew that they had gone to the Director of Public Prosecutions.
Taverner came out of the house again. He walked across the drive and the lawn towards us. Brenda shivered more violently.
“What does he want?” she repeated nervously. “What does he want?”
Then Taverner was with us. He spoke curtly in his official voice, using the official phrases.
“I have a warrant here for your arrest—you are charged with administering eserine to Aristide Leonides on September 19th last. I must warn you that anything you say may be used in evidence at your trial.”
And then Brenda went to pieces. She screamed. She clung to me. She cried out, “No, no, no, it isn’t true! Charles, tell them it isn’t true! I didn’t do it. I didn’t know anything about it. It’s all a plot. Don’t let them take me away. It isn’t true, I tell you … It isn’t true…. I haven’t done anything….”
It was horrible