Mysterious Mr. Quin - Agatha Christie [93]
He made a little bow to the girl.
‘I am very happy to have secured this, and I think I have made a bargain. Some day, Miss Carlton Smith, I shall be able to sell this sketch at a very good profit–if I want to!’
The girl leant forward to see which one he had taken. He saw a new look come into her eyes. For the first time she was really aware of his existence, and there was respect in the quick glance she gave him.
‘You have chosen the best,’ she said. ‘I–I am glad.’
‘Well, I suppose you know what you’re doing,’ said the Duchess. ‘And I daresay you’re right. I’ve heard that you are quite a connoisseur. But you can’t tell me that all this new stuff is art, because it isn’t. Still, we needn’t go into that. Now I’m only going to be here a few days and I want to see something of the island. You’ve got a car, I suppose, Naomi?’
The girl nodded.
‘Excellent,’ said the Duchess. ‘We’ll make a trip somewhere tomorrow.’
‘It’s only a two-seater.’
‘Nonsense, there’s a dickey, I suppose, that will do for Mr Satterthwaite?’
A shuddering sigh went through Mr Satterthwaite. He had observed the Corsican roads that morning. Naomi was regarding him thoughtfully.
‘I’m afraid my car would be no good to you,’ she said. ‘It’s a terribly battered old bus. I bought it second-hand for a mere song. It will just get me up the hills–with coaxing. But I can’t take passengers. There’s quite a good garage, though, in the town. You can hire a car there.’
‘Hire a car?’ said the Duchess, scandalized. ‘What an idea. Who’s that nice-looking man, rather yellow, who drove up in a four-seater just before lunch?’
‘I expect you mean Mr Tomlinson. He’s a retired Indian judge.’
‘That accounts for the yellowness,’ said the Duchess. ‘I was afraid it might be jaundice. He seems quite a decent sort of man. I shall talk to him.’
That evening, on coming down to dinner, Mr Satterthwaite found the Duchess resplendent in black velvet and diamonds, talking earnestly to the owner of the four-seater car. She beckoned authoritatively.
‘Come here, Mr Satterthwaite, Mr Tomlinson is telling me the most interesting things, and what do you think?–he is actually going to take us on an expedition tomorrow in his car.’
Mr Satterthwaite regarded her with admiration.
‘We must go in to dinner,’ said the Duchess. ‘Do come and sit at our table, Mr Tomlinson, and then you can go on with what you were telling me.’
‘Quite a decent sort of man,’ the Duchess pronounced later.
‘With quite a decent sort of car,’ retorted Mr Satterthwaite.
‘Naughty,’ said the Duchess, and gave him a resounding blow on the knuckles with the dingy black fan she always carried. Mr Satterthwaite winced with pain.
‘Naomi is coming too,’ said the Duchess. ‘In her car. That girl wants taking out of herself. She’s very selfish. Not exactly self-centred, but totally indifferent to everyone and everything. Don’t you agree?’
‘I don’t think that’s possible,’ said Mr Satterthwaite, slowly. ‘I mean, everyone’s interest must go somewhere. There are, of course, the people who revolve round themselves–but I agree with you, she’s not one of that kind. She’s totally uninterested in herself. And yet she’s got a strong character–there must be something. I thought at first it was her art–but it isn’t. I’ve never met anyone so detached from life. That’s dangerous.’
‘Dangerous? What do you mean?’
‘Well, you see–it must mean an obsession of some kind, and obsessions are always dangerous.’
‘Satterthwaite,’ said the Duchess, ‘don’t be a fool. And listen to me. About tomorrow–’
Mr Satterthwaite listened. It was very much his role in life.
They started early the following morning, taking their lunch with them. Naomi, who had been six months in the island, was to be the pioneer. Mr Satterthwaite went over to