Listerdale Mystery - Agatha Christie [22]
She stood up obediently, and George was as good as his word.
‘Thank you, Mr Rowland.’
‘George. George to my friends, remember. And you can’t come into my nice empty carriage, roll under the seat, induce me to tell lies to your uncle, and then refuse to be friends, can you?’
‘Thank you, George.’
‘That’s better.’
‘Do I look quite all right now?’ asked Elizabeth, trying to see over her left shoulder.
‘You look–oh! you look–you look all right,’ said George, curbing himself sternly.
‘It was all so sudden, you see,’ explained the girl.
‘It must have been.’
‘He saw us in the taxi, and then at the station I just bolted in here knowing he was close behind me. Where is this train going to, by the way?’
‘Rowland’s Castle,’ said George firmly.
The girl looked puzzled.
‘Rowland’s Castle?’
‘Not at once, of course. Only after a good deal of stopping and slow going. But I confidently expect to be there before midnight. The old South-Western was a very reliable line–slow but sure–and I’m sure the Southern Railway is keeping up the old traditions.’
‘I don’t know that I want to go to Rowland’s Castle,’ said Elizabeth doubtfully.
‘You hurt me. It’s a delightful spot.’
‘Have you ever been there?’
‘Not exactly. But there are lots of other places you can go to, if you don’t fancy Rowland’s Castle. There’s Woking, and Weybridge, and Wimbledon. The train is sure to stop at one or other of them.’
‘I see,’ said the girl. ‘Yes, I can get out there, and perhaps motor back to London. That would be the best plan, I think.’
Even as she spoke, the train began to slow up. Mr Rowland gazed at her with appealing eyes.
‘If I can do anything–’
‘No, indeed. You’ve done a lot already.’
There was a pause, then the girl broke out suddenly:
‘I–I wish I could explain. I–’
‘For heaven’s sake don’t do that! It would spoil everything. But look here, isn’t there anything that I could do? Carry the secret papers to Vienna–or something of that kind? There always are secret papers. Do give me a chance.’
The train had stopped. Elizabeth jumped quickly out on to the platform. She turned and spoke to him through the window.
‘Are you in earnest? Would you really do something for us–for me?’
‘I’d do anything in the world for you, Elizabeth.’
‘Even if I could give you no reasons?’
‘Rotten things, reasons!’
‘Even if it were–dangerous?’
‘The more danger, the better.’
She hesitated a minute then seemed to make up her mind.
‘Lean out of the window. Look down the platform as though you weren’t really looking.’ Mr Rowland endeavoured to comply with this somewhat difficult recommendation. ‘Do you see that man getting in–with a small dark beard–light overcoat? Follow him, see what he does and where he goes.’
‘Is that all?’ asked Mr Rowland. ‘What do I–?’
She interrupted him.
‘Further instructions will be sent to you. Watch him–and guard this.’ She thrust a small sealed packet into his hand. ‘Guard it with your life. It’s the key to everything.’
The train went on. Mr Rowland remained staring out of the window, watching Elizabeth’s tall, graceful figure threading its way down the platform. In his hand he clutched the small sealed packet.
The rest of his journey was both monotonous and uneventful. The train was a slow one. It stopped everywhere. At every station, George’s head shot out of the window, in case his quarry should alight. Occasionally he strolled up and down the platform when the wait promised to be a long one, and reassured himself that the man was still there.
The eventual destination of the train was Portsmouth, and it was there that the black-bearded traveller alighted. He made his way to a small second-class hotel where he booked a room. Mr Rowland also booked a room.
The rooms were in the same corridor, two doors from each other. The arrangement seemed satisfactory to George. He was a complete novice in the art of shadowing, but was anxious to acquit himself well, and justify Elizabeth’s