Murder Is Easy - Agatha Christie [9]
“I’ve often thought,” said his lordship complacently, “that I’d like to write a book myself.”
“Yes?” said Luke.
“I could, mark you,” said Lord Whitfield. “And a very interesting book it would be. I’ve come across a lot of interesting people. Trouble is, I haven’t got the time. I’m a very busy man.”
“Of course. You must be.”
“You wouldn’t believe what I’ve got on my shoulders,” said Lord Whitfield. “I take a personal interest in each one of my publications. I consider that I’m responsible for moulding the public mind. Next week millions of people will be thinking and feeling just exactly what I’ve intended to make them feel and think. That’s a very solemn thought. That means responsibility. Well, I don’t mind responsibility. I’m not afraid of it. I can do with responsibility.”
Lord Whitfield swelled out his chest, attempted to draw in his stomach, and glared amiably at Luke.
Bridget Conway said lightly:
“You’re a great man, Gordon. Have some more tea.”
Lord Whitfield replied simply:
“I am a great man. No, I won’t have anymore tea.”
Then, descending from his own Olympian heights to the level of more ordinary mortals, he inquired kindly of his guest:
“Know anybody round this part of the world?”
Luke shook his head. Then, on an impulse, and feeling that the sooner he began to get down to his job the better, he added:
“At least, there’s a man here that I promised to look up—friend of friends of mine. Man called Humbleby. He’s a doctor.”
“Oh!” Lord Whitfield struggled upright in his chair. “Dr. Humbleby? Pity.”
“What’s a pity?”
“Died about a week ago,” said Lord Whitfield.
“Oh, dear,” said Luke. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t think you’d have cared for him,” said Lord Whitfield. “Opinionated, pestilential, muddleheaded old fool.”
“Which means,” put in Bridget, “that he disagreed with Gordon.”
“Question of our water supply,” said Lord Whitfield. “I may tell you, Mr. Fitzwilliam, that I’m a public-spirited man. I’ve got the welfare of this town at heart. I was born here. Yes, born in this very town—”
With chagrin Luke perceived that they had left the topic of Dr. Humbleby and had reverted to the topic of Lord Whitfield.
“I’m not ashamed of it and I don’t care who knows it,” went on that gentleman. “I had none of your natural advantages. My father kept a boot-shop—yes, a plain boot-shop. And I served in that shop when I was a young lad. I raised myself by my own efforts, Fitzwilliam—I determined to get out of the rut—and I got out of the rut! Perseverance, hard work and the help of God—that’s what did it! That’s what made me what I am today.”
Exhaustive details of Lord Whitfield’s career were produced for Luke’s benefit and the former wound up triumphantly:
“And here I am and the whole world’s welcome to know how I’ve got here! I’m not ashamed of my beginnings—no, sir—I’ve come back here where I was born. Do you know what stands where my father’s shop used to be? A fine building built and endowed by me—Institute, Boys’ Clubs, everything tip-top and up to date. Employed the best architect in the country! I must say he’s made a bare plain job of it—looks like a workhouse or a prison to me—but they say it’s all right, so I suppose it must be.”
“Cheer up,” said Bridget. “You had your own way over this house!”
Lord Whitfield chuckled appreciatively.
“Yes, they tried to put it over on me here! Carry out the original spirit of the building. No, I said, I’m going to live in the place, and I want something to show for my money! When one architect wouldn’t do what I wanted I sacked him and got another. The fellow I got in the end understood my ideas pretty well.”
“He pandered to your worst flights of imagination,” said Bridget.
“She’d have liked the place left as it was,” said Lord Whitfield. He patted her arm. “No use living in the past, my dear. Those old Georges didn’t know much. I didn’t want a plain redbrick house. I always had a fancy for a castle—and now I’ve got one!” He added, “I know my taste isn’t very classy, so I gave a good firm carte blanche to do the inside, and I must say they haven’t done too