Murder Is Easy - Agatha Christie [66]
Bridget interrupted:
“Safe?”
Miss Waynflete, a little flustered, said hurriedly:
“Comfortable—that’s what I meant—quite comfortable with me. I mean, not nearly so luxurious as here, naturally—but the hot water is hot and my little maid Emily really cooks quite nicely.”
“Oh, I’m sure everything would be lovely, Miss Waynflete,” said Bridget mechanically.
“But, of course, if you are going up to town, that is much better….”
Bridget said slowly:
“It’s a little awkward. My aunt went off early to a flower show today. I haven’t had a chance yet to tell her what has happened. I shall leave a note for her telling her I’ve gone up to the flat.”
“You’re going to your aunt’s flat in London?”
“Yes. There’s no one there. But I can go out for meals.”
“You’ll be alone in that flat? Oh, dear, I shouldn’t do that. Not stay there alone.”
“Nobody will eat me,” said Bridget impatiently. “Besides, my aunt will come up tomorrow.”
Miss Waynflete shook her head in a worried manner.
Luke said:
“Better go to a hotel.”
Bridget wheeled round on him.
“Why? What’s the matter with you all? Why are you treating me as though I was an imbecile child?”
“No, no, dear,” protested Miss Waynflete. “We just want you to be careful—that’s all!”
“But why? Why? What’s it all about?”
“Look here, Bridget,” said Luke. “I want to have a talk with you. But I can’t talk here. Come with me now in the car and we’ll go somewhere quiet.”
He looked at Miss Waynflete.
“May we come to your house in about an hour’s time? There are several things I want to say to you.”
“Please do. I will wait for you there.”
Luke put his hand on Bridget’s arm. He gave a nod of thanks to Miss Waynflete.
He said: “We’ll pick up the luggage later. Come on.”
He led her out of the room and along the hall to the front door. He opened the door of the car. Bridget got in. Luke started the engine and drove rapidly down the drive. He gave a sigh of relief as they emerged from the iron gates.
“Thank God I’ve got you out of there safely,” he said.
“Have you gone quite mad, Luke? Why all this ‘hush hush—I can’t tell you what I mean now’—business?”
Luke said grimly:
“Well, there are difficulties, you know, in explaining that a man’s a murderer when you’re actually under his roof!”
Twenty
WE’RE IN IT—TOGETHER
Bridget sat for a minute motionless beside him. She said:
“Gordon?”
Luke nodded.
“Gordon? Gordon—a murderer? Gordon the murderer? I never heard anything so ridiculous in all my life!”
“That’s how it strikes you?”
“Yes, indeed. Why, Gordon wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Luke said grimly:
“That may be true. I don’t know. But he certainly killed a canary bird, and I’m pretty certain he’s killed a large number of human beings as well.”
“My dear Luke, I simply can’t believe it!”
“I know,” said Luke. “It does sound quite incredible. Why, he never even entered my head as a possible suspect until the night before last.”
Bridget protested:
“But I know all about Gordon! I know what he’s like! He’s really a sweet little man—pompous, yes, but rather pathetic really.”
Luke shook his head. “You’ve got to readjust your ideas about him, Bridget.”
“It’s no good, Luke, I simply can’t believe it! What put such an absurd idea into your head? Why, two days ago you were quite positive it was Ellsworthy.”
Luke winced slightly.
“I know. I know. You probably think that tomorrow I shall suspect Thomas, and the day after I shall be convinced that it’s Horton I’m after! I’m not really so unbalanced as that. I admit the idea’s completely startling when it first comes to you, but if you look into it a bit closer, you’ll see that it all fits in remarkably well. No wonder Miss Pinkerton didn’t dare to go to the local authorities. She knew they’d laugh at her! Scotland Yard was her only hope.”
“But what possible motive could Gordon have for all this killing business? Oh, it’s all so silly!”
“I know. But don’t you realize that Gordon Whitfield has a very exalted opinion of himself?”
Bridget said: “He pretends to be very wonderful and very important.