Listerdale Mystery - Agatha Christie [30]
‘I’ve got lots of friends–naturally.’ (He was amused by the naïve self-assurance of that.) ‘But you see, none of them are clever. Not like you. You’re used to questioning people. And with all your experience you must know.’
‘Know what?’
‘Whether they’re innocent or guilty.’
He smiled rather grimly to himself. He flattered himself that on the whole he usually had known! Though, on many occasions, his private opinion had not been that of the jury.
Magdalen pushed back her hat from her forehead with a nervous gesture, looked round the room, and said:
‘How quiet it is here. Don’t you sometimes long for some noise?’
The cul-de-sac! All unwittingly her words, spoken at random, touched him on the raw. A cul-de-sac. Yes, but there was always a way out–the way you had come–the way back into the world…Something impetuous and youthful stirred in him. Her simple trust appealed to the best side of his nature–and the condition of her problem appealed to something else–the innate criminologist in him. He wanted to see these people of whom she spoke. He wanted to form his own judgement.
He said: ‘If you are really convinced I can be of any use…Mind, I guarantee nothing.’
He expected her to be overwhelmed with delight, but she took it very calmly.
‘I knew you would do it. I’ve always thought of you as a real friend. Will you come back with me now?’
‘No. I think if I pay you a visit tomorrow it will be more satisfactory. Will you give me the name and address of Miss Crabtree’s lawyer? I may want to ask him a few questions.’
She wrote it down and handed it to him. Then she got up and said rather shyly:
‘I–I’m really most awfully grateful. Goodbye.’
‘And your own address?’
‘How stupid of me. 18 Palatine Walk, Chelsea.’
II
It was three o’clock on the following afternoon when Sir Edward Palliser approached 18 Palatine Walk with a sober, measured tread. In the interval he had found out several things. He had paid a visit that morning to Scotland Yard, where the Assistant Commissioner was an old friend of his, and he had also had an interview with the late Miss Crabtree’s lawyer. As a result he had a clearer vision of the circumstances. Miss Crabtree’s arrangements in regard to money had been somewhat peculiar. She never made use of a cheque-book. Instead she was in the habit of writing to her lawyer and asking him to have a certain sum in five-pound notes waiting for her. It was nearly always the same sum. Three hundred pounds four times a year. She came to fetch it herself in a four-wheeler which she regarded as the only safe means of conveyance. At other times she never left the house.
At Scotland Yard Sir Edward learned that the question of finance had been gone into very carefully. Miss Crabtree had been almost due for her next instalment of money. Presumably the previous three hundred had been spent–or almost spent. But this was exactly the point that had not been easy to ascertain. By checking the household expenditure, it was soon evident that Miss Crabtree’s expenditure per quarter fell a good deal short of three hundred pounds. On the other hand she was in the habit of sending five-pound notes away to needy friends or relatives. Whether there had been much or little money in the house at the time of her death was a debatable point. None had been found.
It was this particular point which Sir Edward was revolving in his mind as he approached Palatine Walk.
The door of the house (which was a non-basement one) was opened to him by a small elderly woman with an alert gaze. He was shown into a big double room on the left of the small hallway and there Magdalen came to him. More clearly than before, he saw the traces of nervous strain in her face.
‘You told me to ask questions, and I have come to do so,’ said Sir Edward, smiling as he shook hands. ‘First of all I want to know who last saw your aunt and exactly what time that was?’
‘It was after tea–five o’clock. Martha was the last person with her. She had been paying the books that afternoon,