Murder at the Vicarage - Agatha Christie [44]
‘It is true. Most people – most men, at any rate, are out for their own hand.’ There was a bitterness in her voice.
I did not answer, and she went on:
‘Sit down, won’t you?’
I obeyed, and she took a chair facing me. She hesitated a moment and then began to speak very slowly and thoughtfully, seeming to weigh each word as she uttered it.
‘I am in a very peculiar position, Mr Clement, and I want to ask your advice. That is, I want to ask your advice as to what I should do next. What is past is past and cannot be undone. You understand?’
Before I could reply, the maid who had admitted me opened the door and said with a scared face:
‘Oh! Please, ma’am, there is a police inspector here, and he says he must speak to you, please.’
There was a pause. Mrs Lestrange’s face did not change. Only her eyes very slowly closed and opened again. She seemed to swallow once or twice, then she said in exactly the same clear, calm voice: ‘Show him in, Hilda.’
I was about to rise, but she motioned me back again with an imperious hand.
‘If you do not mind – I should be much obliged if you would stay.’
I resumed my seat.
‘Certainly, if you wish it,’ I murmured, as Slack entered with a brisk regulation tread.
‘Good afternoon, madam,’ he began.
‘Good afternoon, Inspector.’
At this moment, he caught sight of me and scowled. There is no doubt about it, Slack does not like me.
‘You have no objection to the Vicar’s presence, I hope?’
I suppose that Slack could not very well say he had.
‘No-o,’ he said grudgingly. ‘Though, perhaps, it might be better –’
Mrs Lestrange paid no attention to the hint.
‘What can I do for you, Inspector?’ she asked.
‘It’s this way, madam. Murder of Colonel Protheroe. I’m in charge of the case and making inquiries.’
Mrs Lestrange nodded.
‘Just as a matter of form, I’m asking every one just where they were yesterday evening between the hours of 6 and 7 p.m. Just as a matter of form, you understand.’
‘You want to know where I was yesterday evening between six and seven?’
‘If you please, madam.’
‘Let me see.’ She reflected a moment. ‘I was here. In this house.’
‘Oh!’ I saw the Inspector’s eyes flash. ‘And your maid – you have only one maid, I think – can confirm that statement?’
‘No, it was Hilda’s afternoon out.’
‘I see.’
‘So, unfortunately, you will have to take my word for it,’ said Mrs Lestrange pleasantly.
‘You seriously declare that you were at home all the afternoon?’
‘You said between six and seven, Inspector. I was out for a walk early in the afternoon. I returned some time before five o’clock.’
‘Then if a lady – Miss Hartnell, for instance – were to declare that she came here about six o’clock, rang the bell, but could make no one hear and was compelled to go away again – you’d say she was mistaken, eh?’
‘Oh, no,’ Mrs Lestrange shook her head.
‘But –’
‘If your maid is in, she can say not at home. If one is alone and does not happen to want to see callers – well, the only thing to do is to let them ring.’
Inspector Slack looked slightly baffled.
‘Elderly women bore me dreadfully,’ said Mrs Lestrange. ‘And Miss Hartnell is particularly boring. She must have rung at least half a dozen times before she went away.’
She smiled sweetly at Inspector Slack.
The Inspector shifted his ground.
‘Then if anyone were to say they’d seen you out and about then –’
‘Oh! but they didn’t, did they?’ She was quick to sense his weak point. ‘No one saw me out, because I was in, you see.’
‘Quite so, madam.’
The Inspector hitched his chair a little nearer.
‘Now I understand, Mrs Lestrange, that you paid a visit to Colonel Protheroe at Old Hall the night before his death.’
Mrs Lestrange said calmly: ‘That is so.’
‘Can you indicate to me the nature of that interview?’
‘It concerned a private matter, Inspector.’
‘I’m afraid I must ask you tell me the nature of that private matter.’
‘I shall not tell you anything of the kind. I will only assure you that nothing which was said at that interview could possibly