Murder Is Easy - Agatha Christie [30]
He thought to himself ruefully:
“Who’s to break the spell? There’s no one.”
Ten
ROSE HUMBLEBY
A soft sound behind him made him turn sharply. A girl was standing there, a remarkably pretty girl with brown hair curling round her ears and rather timid-looking dark-blue eyes. She flushed a little with embarrassment before she spoke.
“Mr. Fitzwilliam, isn’t it?” she said.
“Yes. I—”
“I’m Rose Humbleby. Bridget told me that—that you knew some people who knew my father.”
Luke had the grace to flush slightly under his tan.
“It was a long time ago,” he said rather lamely. “They—er—knew him as a young man—before he married.”
“Oh, I see.”
Rose Humbleby looked a little crestfallen. But she went on:
“You’re writing a book, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I’m making notes for one, that is. About local superstitions. All that sort of thing.”
“I see. It sounds frightfully interesting.”
“It will probably be as dull as ditch water,” Luke assured her.
“Oh, no, I’m sure it won’t.”
Luke smiled at her.
He thought:
“Our Dr. Thomas is in luck!”
“There are people,” he said, “who can make the most exciting subject unbearably boring. I’m afraid I’m one of them.”
“Oh, but why should you be?”
“I don’t know. But the conviction is growing upon me.”
Rose Humbleby said:
“You might be one of the people who make dull subjects sound frightfully exciting!”
“Now that is a nice thought,” said Luke. “Thank you for it.”
Rose Humbleby smiled back. Then she said:
“Do you believe in—in superstitions and all that?”
“That’s a difficult question. It doesn’t follow, you know. One can be interested in things one doesn’t believe in.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” the girl sounded doubtful.
“Are you superstitious?”
“N-no—I don’t think so. But I do think things come in—in waves.”
“Waves?”
“Waves of bad luck and good luck. I mean—I feel as though lately all Wychwood was under a spell of—of misfortune. Father dying—and Miss Pinkerton being run over, and that little boy who fell out of the window. I—I began to feel as though I hated this place—as though I must get away!”
Her breath came rather faster. Luke looked at her thoughtfully.
“So you feel like that?”
“Oh! I know it’s silly. I suppose really it was poor daddy dying so unexpectedly—it was so horribly sudden.” She shivered. “And then Miss Pinkerton. She said—”
The girl paused.
“What did she say? She was a delightful old lady, I thought—very like a rather special aunt of mine.”
“Oh, did you know her?” Rose’s face lit up. “I was very fond of her and she was devoted to daddy. But I’ve sometimes wondered if she was what the Scotch call ‘fey.’”
“Why?”
“Because—it’s so odd—she seemed quite afraid that something was going to happen to daddy. She almost warned me. Especially about accidents. And then that day—just before she went up to town—she was so odd in her manner—absolutely in a dither. I really do think, Mr. Fitzwilliam, that she was one of those people who have second sight. I think she knew that something was going to happen to her. And she must have known that something was going to happen to daddy too. It’s—it’s rather frightening, that sort of thing!”
She moved a step nearer to him.
“There are times when one can foresee the future,” said Luke. “It isn’t always supernatural, though.”
“No, I suppose it’s quite natural really—just a faculty that most people lack. All the same it—worries me—”
“You mustn’t worry,” said Luke gently. “Remember, it’s all behind you now. It’s no good going back over the past. It’s the future one has to live for.”
“I know. But there’s more, you see…” Rose hesitated. “There was something—to do with your cousin.”
“My cousin? Bridget?”
“Yes. Miss Pinkerton was worried about her in some way. She was always asking me questions…I think she was afraid for her—too.”
Luke turned sharply, scanning the hillside. He had an unreasoning sense of fear. Bridget—alone with the man whose hands had that unhealthy hue of greenish decomposing flesh! Fancy—all fancy! Ellsworthy was only a harmless dilettante who played at shopkeeping.
As though reading his thoughts, Rose