Murder in the Mews - Agatha Christie [54]
Snell made a little bow towards Poirot as he spoke.
‘When your master went to the study, did he look upset or worried in any way?’
‘I could not say, sir. It was too far for me to judge of his expression. I just noticed him, that was all.’
‘Was he left alone when he went to the study?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Did anyone go to the study after that?’
‘I could not say, sir. I went to the butler’s pantry after that, and was there until I sounded the first gong at eight minutes past eight.’
‘That was when you heard the shot?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Poirot gently interposed a question.
‘There were others, I think, who also heard the shot?’
‘Yes, sir. Mr Hugo and Miss Cardwell. And Miss Lingard.’
‘These people were also in the hall?’
‘Miss Lingard came out from the drawing-room, and Miss Cardwell and Mr Hugo were just coming down the stairs.’
Poirot asked:
‘Was there any conversation about the matter?’
‘Well, sir, Mr Hugo asked if there was champagne for dinner. I told him that sherry, hock and burgundy were being served.’
‘He thought it was a champagne cork?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘But nobody took it seriously?’
‘Oh, no, sir. They all went into the drawing-room talking and laughing.’
‘Where were the other members of the household?’
‘I could not say, sir.’
Major Riddle said:
‘Do you know anything about this pistol?’ He held it out as he spoke.
‘Oh, yes, sir. That belonged to Sir Gervase. He always kept it in the drawer of his desk in here.’
‘Was it usually loaded?’
‘I couldn’t say, sir.’
Major Riddle laid down the pistol and cleared his throat.
‘Now, Snell, I’m going to ask you a rather important question. I hope you will answer it as truthfully as you can. Do you know of any reason which might lead your master to commit suicide?’
‘No, sir. I know of nothing.’
‘Sir Gervase had not been odd in his manner of late? Not depressed? Or worried?’
Snell coughed apologetically.
‘You’ll excuse my saying it, sir, but Sir Gervase was always what might have seemed to strangers a little odd in his manner. He was a highly original gentleman, sir.’
‘Yes, yes, I am quite aware of that.’
‘Outsiders, sir, did not always Understand Sir Gervase.’
Snell gave the phrase a definite value of capital letter.
‘I know. I know. But there was nothing that you would have called unusual?’
The butler hesitated.
‘I think, sir, that Sir Gervase was worried about something,’ he said at last.
‘Worried and depressed?’
‘I shouldn’t say depressed, sir. But worried, yes.’
‘Have you any idea of the cause of that worry?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Was it connected with any particular person, for instance?’
‘I could not say at all, sir. In any case, it is only an impression of mine.’
Poirot spoke again.
‘You were surprised at his suicide?’
‘Very surprised, sir. It has been a terrible shock to me. I never dreamed of such a thing.’
Poirot nodded thoughtfully.
Riddle glanced at him, then he said:
‘Well, Snell, I think that is all we want to ask you. You are quite sure that there is nothing else you can tell us — no unusual incident, for instance, that has happened in the last few days?’
The butler, rising to his feet, shook his head.
‘There is nothing, sir, nothing whatever.’
‘Then you can go.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Moving towards the doorway, Snell drew back and stood aside. Lady Chevenix-Gore floated into the room.
She was wearing an oriental-looking garment of purple and orange silk wound tightly round her body. Her face was serene and her manner collected and calm.
‘Lady Chevenix-Gore.’ Major Riddle sprang to his feet.
She said:
‘They told me you would like to talk to me, so I came.’
‘Shall we go into another room? This must be painful for you in the extreme.’
Lady Chevenix-Gore shook her head and sat down on one of the Chippendale chairs. She murmured:
‘Oh, no, what does it matter?’
‘It is very good of you, Lady Chevenix-Gore, to put your feelings aside. I know what a frightful shock this must have been and —’
She interrupted him.
‘It was rather a shock at first,’ she admitted. Her tone was easy and conversational. ‘But there is no such thing as