Mysterious Mr. Quin - Agatha Christie [80]
‘Weren’t you saying something about there being a Priests’ hole in that room?’ put in Frank Bristow.
‘Oh!’ cried Mr Satterthwaite. ‘Supposing–?’ He waved a hand for silence and sheltered his forehead with his other hand and then spoke slowly and hesitatingly.
‘I have got an idea–it may be just an idea, but I think it hangs together. Supposing someone shot Lord Charnley. Shot him in the Terrace Room. Then he–and another person–dragged the body into the Oak Parlour. They laid it down there with the pistol by its right hand. Now we go on to the next step. It must seem absolutely certain that Lord Charnley has committed suicide. I think that could be done very easily. The man in his brocade and wig passes along the hall by the Oak Parlour door and someone, to make sure of things, calls out to him as Lord Charnley from the top of the stairs. He goes in and locks both doors and fires a shot into the woodwork. There were bullet holes already in that room if you remember, one more wouldn’t be noticed. He then hides quietly in the secret chamber. The doors are broken open and people rush in. It seems certain that Lord Charnley has committed suicide. No other hypothesis is even entertained.’
‘Well, I think that is balderdash,’ said Colonel Monckton. ‘You forget that Charnley had a motive right enough for suicide.’
‘A letter found afterwards,’ said Mr Satterthwaite. ‘A lying cruel letter written by a very clever and unscrupulous little actress who meant one day to be Lady Charnley herself.’
‘You mean?’
‘I mean the girl in league with Hugo Charnley,’ said Mr Satterthwaite. ‘You know, Monckton, everyone knows, that that man was a blackguard. He thought that he was certain to come into the title.’ He turned sharply to Lady Charnley. ‘What was the name of the girl who wrote that letter?’
‘Monica Ford,’ said Lady Charnley.
‘Was it Monica Ford, Monckton, who called out to Lord Charnley from the top of the stairs?’
‘Yes, now you come to speak of it, I believe it was.’
‘Oh, that’s impossible,’ said Lady Charnley. ‘I–I went to her about it. She told me it was all true. I only saw her once afterwards, but surely she couldn’t have been acting the whole time.’
Mr Satterthwaite looked across the room at Aspasia Glen.
‘I think she could,’ he said quietly. ‘I think she had in her the makings of a very accomplished actress.’
‘There is one thing you haven’t got over,’ said Frank Bristow, ‘there would be blood on the floor of the Terrace Room. Bound to be. They couldn’t clear that up in a hurry.’
‘No,’ admitted Mr Satterthwaite, ‘but there is one thing they could do–a thing that would only take a second or two–they could throw over the blood-stains the Bokhara rug. Nobody ever saw the Bokhara rug in the Terrace Room before that night.’
‘I believe you are right,’ said Monckton, ‘but all the same those blood-stains would have to be cleared up some time?’
‘Yes,’ said Mr Satterthwaite, ‘in the middle of the night. A woman with a jug and basin could go down the stairs and clear up the blood-stains quite easily.’
‘But supposing someone saw her?’
‘It wouldn’t matter,’ said Mr Satterthwaite. ‘I am speaking now of things as they are. I said a woman with a jug and basin. But if I had said a Weeping Lady with a Silver Ewer that is what they would have appeared to be.’ He got up and went across to Aspasia Glen. ‘That is what you did, wasn’t it?’ he said. ‘They call you the “Woman with the Scarf” now, but it was that night you played your first part, the “Weeping Lady with the Silver Ewer”. That is why you knocked the coffee cup off that table just now. You were afraid when you saw that picture. You thought someone knew.’
Lady Charnley stretched out a white accusing hand.
‘Monica Ford,’ she breathed. ‘I recognize you now.’
Aspasia Glen sprang to her feet with a cry. She pushed little Mr Satterthwaite aside with a shove of the hand and stood shaking in front of Mr Quin.
‘So I was right. Someone did know! Oh, I haven’t been deceived by this tomfoolery. This pretence of working things out.’ She pointed