Murder in the Mews - Agatha Christie [68]
‘It is this — are you sorry that your — father is dead?’
She stared at him.
‘Of course I’m sorry. I don’t indulge in sob-stuff. But I shall miss him…I was fond of the Old Man. That’s what we called him, Hugo and I, always. The “Old Man” — you know — something of the primitive — anthropoid-ape-original-Patriarch-of-the-tribe business. It sounds disrespectful, but there’s really a lot of affection behind it. Of course, he was really the most complete, muddle-headed old ass that ever lived!’
‘You interest me, mademoiselle.’
‘The Old Man had the brains of a louse! Sorry to have to say it, but it’s true. He was incapable of any kind of headwork. Mind you, he was a character. Fantastically brave and all that! Could go careering off to the Pole, or fighting duels. I always think that he blustered such a lot because he really knew that his brains weren’t up to much. Anyone could have got the better of him.’
Poirot took the letter from his pocket.
‘Read this, mademoiselle.’
She read it through and handed it back to him.
‘So that’s what brought you here!’
‘Does it suggest anything to you, that letter?’
She shook her head.
‘No. It’s probably quite true. Anyone could have robbed the poor old pet. John says the last agent before him swindled him right and left. You see, the Old Man was so grand and so pompous that he never really condescended to look into details! He was an invitation to crooks.’
‘You paint a different picture of him, mademoiselle, from the accepted one.’
‘Oh, well — he put up a pretty good camouflage. Vanda (my mother) backed him for all she was worth. He was so happy stalking round pretending he was God Almighty. That’s why, in a way, I’m glad he’s dead. It’s the best thing for him.’
‘I do not quite follow you, mademoiselle.’
Ruth said broodingly:
‘It was growing on him. One of these days he would have had to be locked up…People were beginning to talk as it was.’
‘Did you know, mademoiselle, that he was contemplating a will whereby you could only inherit his money if you married Mr Trent?’
She cried:
‘How absurd! Anyway, I’m sure that could be set aside by law…I’m sure you can’t dictate to people about whom they shall marry.’
‘If he had actually signed such a will, would you have complied with its provisions, mademoiselle?’
She stared.
‘I — I —’
She broke off. For two or three minutes she sat irresolute, looking down at her dangling slipper. A little piece of earth detached itself from the heel and fell on the carpet.
Suddenly Ruth Chevenix-Gore said:
‘Wait!’
She got up and ran out of the room. She returned almost immediately with Captain Lake by her side.
‘It’s got to come out,’ she said rather breathlessly. ‘You might as well know now. John and I were married in London three weeks ago.’
Chapter 10
Of the two of them, Captain Lake looked far the more embarrassed.
‘This is a great surprise, Miss Chevenix-Gore — Mrs Lake, I should say,’ said Major Riddle. ‘Did no one know of this marriage of yours?’
‘No, we kept it quite dark. John didn’t like that part of it much.’
Lake said, stammering a little:
‘I — I know that it seems rather a rotten way to set about things. I ought to have gone straight to Sir Gervase —’
Ruth interrupted:
‘And told him you wanted to marry his daughter, and have been kicked out on your head and he’d probably have disinherited me, raised hell generally in the house, and we could have told each other how beautifully we’d behaved! Believe me, my way was better! If a thing’s done, it’s done. There would still have been a row — but he’d have come round.’
Lake still looked unhappy. Poirot asked:
‘When did you intend to break the news to Sir Gervase?’
Ruth answered:
‘I was preparing the ground. He’d been rather suspicious about me and John, so I pretended to turn my attentions to Godfrey. Naturally, he was ready to go quite off the deep-end about that. I figured it out that the news I was married to John would come almost as a relief!’
‘Did anybody at all know of this marriage?’
‘Yes, I told Vanda in the end. I wanted to get her on my side.