Listerdale Mystery - Agatha Christie [34]
Sir Edward thanked her and proceeded to turn out the contents of the bag on the table. It was, he fancied, a fair specimen of an eccentric elderly lady’s handbag.
There was some odd silver change, two ginger nuts, three newspaper cuttings about Joanna Southcott’s box, a trashy printed poem about the unemployed, an Old Moore’s Almanack, a large piece of camphor, some spectacles and three letters. A spidery one from someone called ‘Cousin Lucy’, a bill for mending a watch, and an appeal from a charitable institution.
Sir Edward went through everything very carefully, then repacked the bag and handed it to Magdalen with a sigh.
‘Thank you, Miss Magdalen. I’m afraid there isn’t much there.’
He rose, observed that from the window you commanded a good view of the front door steps, then took Magdalen’s hand in his.
‘You are going?’
‘Yes.’
‘But it’s–it’s going to be all right?’
‘Nobody connected with the law ever commits himself to a rash statement like that,’ said Sir Edward solemnly, and made his escape.
He walked along the street lost in thought. The puzzle was there under his hand–and he had not solved it. It needed something–some little thing. Just to point the way.
A hand fell on his shoulder and he started. It was Matthew Vaughan, somewhat out of breath.
‘I’ve been chasing you, Sir Edward. I want to apologize. For my rotten manners half an hour ago. But I’ve not got the best temper in the world, I’m afraid. It’s awfully good of you to bother about this business. Please ask me whatever you like. If there’s anything I can do to help–’
Suddenly Sir Edward stiffened. His glance was fixed–not on Matthew–but across the street. Somewhat bewildered, Matthew repeated:
‘If there’s anything I can do to help–’
‘You have already done it, my dear young man,’ said Sir Edward. ‘By stopping me at this particular spot and so fixing my attention on something I might otherwise have missed.’
He pointed across the street to a small restaurant opposite.
‘The Four and Twenty Blackbirds?’ asked Matthew in a puzzled voice.
‘Exactly.’
‘It’s an odd name–but you get quite decent food there, I believe.’
‘I shall not take the risk of experimenting,’ said Sir Edward. ‘Being further from my nursery days than you are, my friend, I probably remember my nursery rhymes better. There is a classic that runs thus, if I remember rightly:
Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye,
Four and twenty blackbirds, baked in a pie
–and so on. The rest of it does not concern us.’
He wheeled round sharply.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Matthew Vaughan.
‘Back to your house, my friend.’
They walked there in silence, Matthew Vaughan shooting puzzled glances at his companion. Sir Edward entered, strode to a drawer, lifted out a velvet bag and opened it. He looked at Matthew and the young man reluctantly left the room.
Sir Edward tumbled out the silver change on the table. Then he nodded. His memory had not been at fault.
He got up and rang the bell, slipping something into the palm of his hand as he did so.
Martha answered the bell.
‘You told me, Martha, if I remember rightly, that you had a slight altercation with your late mistress over one of the new sixpences.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Ah! but the curious thing is, Martha, that among this loose change, there is no new sixpence. There are two sixpences, but they are both old ones.’
She stared at him in a puzzled fashion.
‘You see what that means? Someone did come to the house that evening–someone to whom your mistress gave sixpence…I think she gave it him in exchange for this…’
With a swift movement, he shot his hand forward, holding out the doggerel verse about unemployment.
One glance at her face was enough.
‘The game is up, Martha–you see, I know. You may as well tell me everything.’
She sank down on a chair–the tears raced down her face.
‘It’s true–it’s true–the bell didn’t ring properly–I wasn’t sure, and then I thought I’d better go and see. I got to the door just as he struck her down. The roll of five-pound notes was on the table in front of her–it was the sight