Murder Is Easy - Agatha Christie [75]
“Well, what do you think? I suppose it seems to you wildly unlikely that a man in Lord Whitfield’s position should be a homicidal criminal?”
“Very few things seem unlikely to me,” said Superintendent Battle. “Nothing’s impossible in crime. That’s what I’ve always said. If you were to tell me that a dear old maiden lady, or an archbishop, or a schoolgirl, was a dangerous criminal, I wouldn’t say no. I’d look into the matter.”
“If you’ve heard the main facts of the case from Sir William, I’ll just tell you what happened this morning,” said Luke.
He ran over briefly the main lines of his scene with Lord Whitfield. Superintendent Battle listened with a good deal of interest.
He said:
“You say he was fingering a knife. Did he make a special point of that knife, Mr. Fitzwilliam? Was he threatening with it?”
“Not openly. He tested the edge in a rather nasty way—a kind of æsthetic pleasure about that that I didn’t care about. Miss Waynflete felt the same, I believe.”
“That’s the lady you spoke about—the one who’s known Lord Whitfield all her life, and was once engaged to marry him?”
“That’s right.”
Superintendent Battle said:
“I think you can make your mind easy about the young lady, Mr. Fitzwilliam. I’ll have someone put on to keep a sharp watch on her. With that, and with Jackson tailing his lordship, there ought to be no danger of anything happening.”
“You relieve my mind a good deal,” said Luke.
The superintendent nodded sympathetically.
“It’s a nasty position for you, Mr. Fitzwilliam. Worrying about Miss Conway. Mind you, I don’t expect this will be an easy case. Lord Whitfield must be a pretty shrewd man. He will probably lie low for a good long while. That is, unless he’s got to the last stage.”
“What do you call the last stage?”
“A kind of swollen egoism where a criminal thinks he simply can’t be found out! He’s too clever and everybody else is too stupid! Then, of course, we get him!”
Luke nodded. He rose.
“Well,” he said, “I wish you luck. Let me help in any way I can.”
“Certainly.”
“There’s nothing that you can suggest?”
Battle turned the question over in his mind.
“I don’t think so. Not at the moment. I just want to get the general hang of things in the place. Perhaps I could have another word with you in the evening?”
“Rather.”
“I shall know better where we are then.”
Luke felt vaguely comforted and soothed. Many people had had that feeling after an interview with Superintendent Battle.
He glanced at his watch. Should he go round and see Bridget before lunch?
Better not, he thought. Miss Waynflete might feel that she had to ask him to stay for the meal, and it might disorganize her housekeeping. Middle-aged ladies, Luke knew from experience with aunts, were liable to be fussed over problems of housekeeping. He wondered if Miss Waynflete was an aunt? Probably.
He had strolled out to the door of the inn. A figure in black hurrying down the street stopped suddenly when she saw him.
“Mr. Fitzwilliam.”
“Mrs. Humbleby.”
He came forward and shook hands.
She said:
“I thought you had left?”
“No—only changed my quarters. I’m staying here now.”
“And Bridget? I heard she had left Ashe Manor?”
“Yes, she has.”
Mrs. Humbleby sighed.
“I am so glad—so very glad she has gone right away from Wychwood.”
“Oh, she’s still here. As a matter of fact, she’s staying with Miss Waynflete.”
Mrs. Humbleby moved back a step. Her face, Luke noted with surprise, looked extraordinarily distressed.
“Staying with Honoria Waynflete? Oh, but why?”
“Miss Waynflete very kindly asked her to stay for a few days.”
Mrs. Humbleby gave a little shiver. She came close to Luke and laid a hand on his arm.
“Mr. Fitzwilliam, I know I have no right to say anything—anything at all. I have had a lot of sorrow and grief lately and—perhaps—it makes me fanciful! These feelings of mine may be only sick fancies.”
Luke said gently:
“What feelings?”
“This conviction I have of—of evil!”
She looked timidly at Luke. Seeing that he merely bowed his head gravely and did not appear to question her statement, she