Murder Is Easy - Agatha Christie [69]
Miss Waynflete said:
“You mean—Lavinia Pinkerton?”
“Yes. You would have said, wouldn’t you, that anyone would be quite safe in the middle of a crowded city.”
“You mean,” said Miss Waynflete, “that anyone’s safety depends principally on the fact that nobody wishes to kill them?”
“Exactly. We have come to depend upon what has been called the goodwill of civilization.”
Miss Waynflete nodded her head thoughtfully.
Bridget said:
“How long have you known that—that Gordon was the killer, Miss Waynflete?”
Miss Waynflete sighed.
“That is a difficult question to answer, my dear. I suppose that I have been quite sure, in my inmost heart, for sometime…But I did my best not to recognize that belief! You see, I didn’t want to believe it and so I pretended to myself that it was a wicked and monstrous idea on my part.”
Luke said bluntly:
“Have you never been afraid—for yourself?”
Miss Waynflete considered.
“You mean that if Gordon had suspected that I knew, he would have found some means of getting rid of me?”
“Yes.”
Miss Waynflete said gently:
“I have, of course, been alive to that possibility…I tried to be—careful of myself. But I do not think that Gordon would have considered me a real menace.”
“Why?”
Miss Waynflete flushed a little.
“I don’t think that Gordon would ever believe that I would do anything to—to bring him into danger.”
Luke said abruptly:
“You went as far, didn’t you, as to warn him?”
“Yes. That is, I did hint to him that it was odd that anyone who displeased him should shortly meet with an accident.”
Bridget demanded:
“And what did he say?”
A worried expression passed over Miss Waynflete’s face.
“He didn’t react at all in the way I meant. He seemed—really it’s most extraordinary!—he seemed pleased…He said, ‘So you’ve noticed that?’ He quite—quite preened himself, if I may use that expression.”
“He’s mad, of course,” said Luke.
Miss Waynflete agreed eagerly.
“Yes, indeed, there isn’t any other explanation possible. He’s not responsible for his acts.” She laid a hand on Luke’s arm. “They—they won’t hang him, will they, Mr. Fitzwilliam?”
“No, no. Send him to Broadmoor, I expect.”
Miss Waynflete sighed and leaned back.
“I’m so glad.”
Her eyes rested on Bridget, who was frowning down at the carpet.
Luke said:
“But we’re a long way from all that still. I’ve notified the powers that be and I can say this much, they’re prepared to take the matter seriously. But you must realize that we’ve got remarkably little evidence to go upon.”
“We’ll get evidence,” said Bridget.
Miss Waynflete looked up at her. There was some quality in her expression that reminded Luke of someone or something that he had seen not long ago. He tried to pin down the elusive memory but failed.
Miss Waynflete said doubtfully:
“You are confident, my dear. Well, perhaps you are right.”
Luke said:
“I’ll go along with the car, Bridget, and fetch your things from the Manor.”
Bridget said immediately:
“I’ll come too.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Yes, but I’d rather come.”
Luke said irritably:
“Don’t do the mother and child act with me, Bridget! I refuse to be protected by you.”
Miss Waynflete murmured:
“I really think, Bridget, that it will be quite all right—in a car—and in daylight.”
Bridget gave a slightly shamefaced laugh.
“I’m being rather an idiot. This business gets on one’s nerves.”
Luke said:
“Miss Waynflete protected me home the other night. Come now, Miss Waynflete, admit it! You did, didn’t you?”
She admitted it, smiling.
“You see, Mr. Fitzwilliam, you were so completely unsuspicious! And if Gordon Whitfield had really grasped the fact that you were down here to look into this business and for no other reason—well, it wasn’t very safe. And that’s a very lonely lane—anything might have happened!”
“Well, I’m alive to the danger now all right,” said Luke grimly. “I shan’t be caught napping,