Murder Is Easy - Agatha Christie [54]
Luke assented.
When they arrived at the gate of Dr. Humbleby’s house, Miss Waynflete hesitated and said:
“Such a beautiful evening. I think, if you don’t mind, I will come a little farther. I am enjoying the air.”
Somewhat surprised, Luke expressed pleasure politely. It was hardly what he would have described as a beautiful evening. There was a strong wind blowing, turning back the leaves viciously on the trees. A storm, he thought, might come at any minute.
Miss Waynflete, however, clutching her hat with one hand, walked by his side with every appearance of enjoyment, talking as she went in little gasps.
It was a somewhat lonely lane they were taking, since from Dr. Humbleby’s house the shortest way to Ashe Manor was not by the main road, but by a side lane which led to one of the back gates of the Manor House. This gate was not of the same ornate ironwork but had two handsome gate pillars surmounted by two vast pink pineapples. Why pineapples, Luke had been unable to discover! But he gathered that to Lord Whitfield pineapples spelt distinction and good taste.
As they approached the gate the sound of voices raised in anger came to them. A moment later they came in sight of Lord Whitfield confronting a young man in chauffeur’s uniform.
“You’re fired,” Lord Whitfield was shouting. “D’you hear? You’re fired.”
“If you’d overlook it, m’lord—just this once.”
“No, I won’t overlook it! Taking my car out. My car—and what’s more you’ve been drinking—yes, you have, don’t deny it! I’ve made it clear there are three things I won’t have on my estate—one’s drunkenness, another’s immorality and the other’s impertinence.”
Though the man was not actually drunk, he had had enough to loosen his tongue. His manner changed.
“You won’t have this and you won’t have that, you old bastard! Your estate! Think we don’t all know your father kept a boot-shop down here? Makes us laugh ourselves sick, it does, seeing you strutting about as cock of the walk! Who are you, I’d like to know? You’re no better than I am—that’s what you are.”
Lord Whitfield turned purple.
“How dare you speak to me like that? How dare you?”
The young man took a threatening step forward.
“If you wasn’t such a miserable potbellied little swine I’d give you a sock on the jaw—yes, I would.”
Lord Whitfield hastily retreated a step, tripped over a root and went down in a sitting position.
Luke had come up.
“Get out of here,” he said roughly to the chauffeur.
The latter regained sanity. He looked frightened.
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what came over me, I’m sure.”
“A couple of glasses too much, I should say,” said Luke.
He assisted Lord Whitfield to his feet.
“I—I beg your pardon, m’lord,” stammered the man.
“You’ll be sorry for this, Rivers,” said Lord Whitfield.
His voice trembled with intense feeling.
The man hesitated a minute, then shambled away slowly.
Lord Whitfield exploded:
“Colossal impertinence! To me. Speaking to me like that. Something very serious will happen to that man! No respect—no proper sense of his station in life. When I think of what I do for these people—good wages—every comfort—a pension when they retire. The ingratitude—the base ingratitude….”
He choked with excitement, then perceived Miss Waynflete who was standing silently by.
“Is that you, Honoria? I’m deeply distressed you should have witnessed such a disgraceful scene. That man’s language—”
“I’m afraid he wasn’t quite himself, Lord Whitfield,” said Miss Waynflete primly.
“He was drunk, that’s what he was, drunk!”
“Just a bit lit up,” said Luke.
“Do you know what he did?” Lord Whitfield looked from one to the other of them. “Took out my car—my car! Thought I shouldn’t be back so soon. Bridget drove me over to Lyne in the two-seater. And this fellow had the impertinence to take a girl—Lucy Carter, I believe—out in my car!”
Miss Waynflete said gently:
“A most improper thing to do.”
Lord Whitfield seemed a little comforted.
“Yes, wasn’t it?”
“But I’m sure he’ll regret it.”
“I shall see that he does!”
“You’ve dismissed him,