Murder Is Easy - Agatha Christie [53]
“It was probably too difficult for Lord Whitfield,” said Luke cheerfully. “I’ll bet he got it all wrong! You’ve got a much clearer brain than he has, Miss Waynflete.”
Miss Waynflete said sedately:
“That’s very nice of you, Mr. Fitzwilliam, but I’m afraid women are never quite such deep thinkers as men.”
Luke repressed a desire to criticize adversely Lord Whitfield’s processes of thought. Instead he said:
“I did look into the museum but afterwards I went up to have a look at the top windows.”
“You mean where Tommy—” Miss Waynflete shivered. “It’s really very horrible.”
“Yes, it’s not a nice thought. I’ve spent about an hour with Mrs. Church—Amy’s aunt—not a nice woman!”
“Not at all.”
“I had to take rather a strong line with her,” said Luke. “I fancy she thinks I’m a kind of super policeman.”
He stopped as he noted a sudden change of expression on Miss Waynflete’s face.
“Oh, Mr. Fitzwilliam, do you think that was wise?”
Luke said:
“I don’t really know. I think it was inevitable. The book story was wearing thin—I can’t get much further on that. I had to ask the kind of questions that were directly to the point.”
Miss Waynflete shook her head—the troubled expression still on her face.
“In a place like this, you see—everything gets round so fast.”
“You mean that everybody will say ‘there goes the tec’ as I walk down the street? I don’t think that really matters now. In fact, I may get more that way.”
“I wasn’t thinking of that.” Miss Waynflete sounded a little breathless. “What I meant was—that he’ll know. He’ll realize that you’re on his track.”
Luke said slowly:
“I suppose he will.”
Miss Waynflete said:
“But don’t you see—that’s horribly dangerous. Horribly!”
“You mean—” Luke grasped her point at last, “you mean that the killer will have a crack at me?”
“Yes.”
“Funny,” said Luke. “I never thought of that! I believe you’re right, though. Well, that might be the best thing that could happen.”
Miss Waynflete said earnestly:
“I don’t think you realize that he’s—he’s a very clever man. He’s cautious, too! And remember, he’s got a great deal of experience—perhaps more than we know.”
“Yes,” said Luke thoughtfully. “That’s probably true.”
Miss Waynflete exclaimed:
“Oh, I don’t like it! Really, I feel quite alarmed!”
Luke said gently:
“You needn’t worry. I shall be very much on my guard I can assure you. You see I’ve narrowed the possibilities down pretty closely. I’ve an idea at any rate who the killer might be….”
She looked up sharply.
Luke came a step nearer. He lowered his voice to a whisper:
“Miss Waynflete, if I were to ask you which of two men you considered the most likely—Dr. Thomas or Mr. Abbot—what would you say?”
“Oh—” said Miss Waynflete. Her hand flew to her breast. She stepped back. Her eyes met Luke’s in an expression that puzzled him. They showed impatience and something closely allied to it that he could not quite place.
She said:
“I can’t say anything—”
She turned away abruptly with a curious sound—half a sigh, half a sob.
Luke resigned himself.
“Are you going home?” he asked.
“No, I was going to take these books to Mrs. Humbleby. That lies on your way back to the Manor. We might go part of the way together.”
“That will be very nice,” said Luke.
They went down the steps, turned to the left skirting the village green.
Luke looked back at the stately lines of the house they had left.
“It must have been a lovely house in your father’s day,” he said.
Miss Waynflete sighed.
“Yes, we were all very happy there. I am so thankful it hasn’t been pulled down. So many of the old houses are going.”
“I know. It’s sad.”
“And really the new ones aren’t nearly as well built.”
“I doubt if they will stand the test of time as well.”
“But of course,” said Miss Waynflete, “the new ones are convenient—so labour-saving, and