Lord Edgware Dies - Agatha Christie [45]
‘Edgware was a queer fish, by all accounts,’ said Widburn. ‘I daresay he’s got a good few enemies.’
‘Is it true, M. Poirot,’ asked Mrs Widburn, ‘that somebody ran a penknife into the back of his brain?’
‘Perfectly true, Madame. It was very neatly and efficiently done – scientific, in fact.’
‘I note your artistic pleasure, M. Poirot,’ said Sir Montagu.
‘And now,’ said Poirot, ‘let me come to the object of my visit. Lady Edgware was called to the telephone when she was here at dinner. It is about that telephone call that I seek information. Perhaps you will allow me to question your domestics on the subject?’
‘Certainly. Certainly. Just press that bell, will you, Ross.’
The butler answered the bell. He was a tall middle-aged man of ecclesiastical appearance.
Sir Montagu explained what was wanted. The butler turned to Poirot with polite attention.
‘Who answered the telephone when it rang?’ began Poirot.
‘I answered it myself, sir. The telephone is in a recess leading out of the hall.’
‘Did the person calling ask to speak to Lady Edgware or to Miss Jane Wilkinson?’
‘To Lady Edgware, sir.’
‘What did they say exactly?’
The butler reflected for a moment.
‘As far as I remember, sir, I said “Hello”. A voice then asked if I was Chiswick 43434. I replied that that was so. It then asked me to hold the line. Another voice then asked if that was Chiswick 43434 and on my replying “Yes” it said, “Is Lady Edgware dining there?” I said her ladyship was dining here. The voice said, “I would like to speak to her, please.” I went and informed her ladyship who was at the dinner table. Her ladyship rose, and I showed her where the ’phone was.’
‘And then?’
‘Her ladyship picked up the receiver and said: “Hello – who’s speaking?” Then she said: “Yes – that’s all right. Lady Edgware speaking.” I was just about to leave her ladyship when she called to me and said they had been cut off. She said someone had laughed and evidently hung up the receiver. She asked me if the person ringing up had given any name. They had not done so. That was all that occurred, sir.’
Poirot frowned to himself.
‘Do you really think the telephone call has something to do with the murder, M. Poirot?’ asked Mrs Widburn.
‘Impossible to say, Madame. It is just a curious circumstance.’
‘People do ring up for a joke sometimes. It’s been done to me.’
‘C’est toujours possible, Madame.’
He spoke to the butler again.
‘Was it a man’s voice or a woman’s who rang up?’
‘A lady’s, I think, sir.’
‘What kind of a voice, high or low?’
‘Low, sir. Careful and rather distinct.’ He paused. ‘It may be my fancy, sir, but it sounded like a foreign voice. The R’s were very noticeable.’
‘As far as that goes it might have been a Scotch voice, Donald,’ said Mrs Widburn, smiling at Ross.
Ross laughed.
‘Not guilty,’ he said. ‘I was at the dinner table.’
Poirot spoke once again to the butler.
‘Do you think,’ he asked, ‘that you could recognize that voice if you were to hear it any time?’
The butler hesitated.
‘I couldn’t quite say, sir. I might do so. I think it is possible that I should do so.’
‘I thank you, my friend.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
The butler inclined his head and withdrew, pontificial to the last.
Sir Montagu Corner continued to be very friendly and to play his role of old-world charm. He persuaded us to remain and play bridge. I excused myself – the stakes were bigger than I cared about. Young Ross seemed relieved also at the prospect of someone taking his hand. He and I sat looking on while the other four played. The evening ended in a heavy financial gain to Poirot and Sir Montagu.
Then we thanked our host and took our departure. Ross came with us.
‘A strange little man,’ said Poirot as we stepped out into the night.
The night was fine and we had decided to walk until we picked up a taxi instead of having one telephoned for.
‘Yes, a strange little man,’ said Poirot again.
‘A very rich little man,’ said Ross with feeling.
‘I suppose so.’
‘He seems