Death Comes as End - Agatha Christie [52]
Then, once established, she said with grim satisfaction:
‘There! Now we can talk and no one can overhear our talk.’
‘You are wise, Esa,’ said Hori approvingly.
‘The things which have to be said must be known only to us three. I trust you, Hori. You have been with us since you were a little boy. You have always been faithful and discreet and wise. Renisenb here is the dearest to me of all my son’s children. No harm must come to her, Hori.’
‘No harm shall come to her, Esa.’
Hori did not raise his voice, but the tone of it and the look in his face as his eyes met the old woman’s amply satisfied her.
‘That is well said, Hori–quietly and without heat–but as one who means what he says. Now tell me what has been aranged today?’
Hori recounted the drawing up of the petition and the gist of it. Esa listened carefully.
‘Now listen to me, Hori, and look at this.’ She drew the lion necklace from her dress and handed it to him. She added: ‘Tell him, Renisenb, where you found this.’
Renisenb did so. Then Esa said: ‘Well, Hori, what do you think?’
Hori was silent for a moment, then he asked: ‘You are old and wise, Esa. What do you think?’
Esa said: ‘You are not of those, Hori, who do not like to speak rash words unaccompanied with facts. You knew, did you not, from the first how Nofret came to her death?’
‘I suspected the truth, Esa. It was only suspicion.’
‘Exactly. And we have only suspicion now. Yet here, by the lake, between us three, suspicion can be spoken–and afterwards not referred to again. Now it seems to me that there are three explanations of the tragic things that happened. The first is that the herd boy spoke the truth and that what he saw was indeed Nofret’s ghost returned from the dead and that she had an evil determination to revenge herself still further by causing increased sorrow and grief to our family. That may be so–it is said by priests and others to be possible and we do know that illnesses are caused by evil spirits. But it seems to me, who am an old woman and not inclined to believe all that priests and others say, that there are other possibilities.’
‘Such as?’ asked Hori.
‘Let us admit that Nofret was killed by Satipy, that some time afterwards at that same spot Satipy had a vision of Nofret and that, in her fear and guilt, she fell and died. That is all clear enough. But now let us come to another assumption; which is that after that someone, for a reason we have yet to discover, wished to cause the death of two of Imhotep’s sons. That someone counted on a superstitious dread ascribing the deed to the spirit of Nofret–a singularly convenient assumption.’
‘Who would want to kill Yahmose or Sobek?’ cried Renisenb.
‘Not a servant,’ said Esa, ‘they would not dare. That leaves us with but few people from whom to chose.’
‘One of ourselves? But, grandmother, that could not be!’
‘Ask Hori,’ said Esa drily. ‘You notice he makes no protest.’
Renisenb turned to him. ‘Hori–surely–’
Hori shook his head gravely.
‘Renisenb, you are young and trusting. You think that everyone you know and love is just as they appear to you. You do not know the human heart and the bitterness–yes, and evil–it may contain.’
‘But who–which one–?’
Esa broke in briskly:
‘Let us go back to this tale told by the herd boy. He saw a woman dressed in a dyed linen dress wearing Nofret’s necklace. Now if it was no spirit, then he saw exactly what he said he did–which means that he saw a woman who was deliberately trying to appear like Nofret. It might have been Kait–it might have been Henet–it might have been you, Renisenb! From that distance it might have been anyone wearing a woman’s dress and a wig. Hush–let me go on. The other possibility is that the boy was lying. He told a tale that he had been taught to tell. He was obeying someone who had the right to command him and he may have