Ordeal by Innocence - Agatha Christie [61]
“Well,” said Philip, “you can pretty well cart me anywhere you like, can’t you? But I want to stay here. Don’t you sometimes want me to do what I want to do?”
“I want you to have everything in the world you want,” said Mary.
“You don’t really, darling. You just want to look after me like a baby in arms and know what’s best for me every day and in every possible way.” He laughed.
Mary said, looking at him doubtfully:
“I never know when you’re serious or not.”
“Apart from curiosity,” said Philip Durrant, “somebody ought to find out the truth, you know.”
“Why? What good can it do? Having someone else sent to prison. I think it’s a horrible idea.”
“You don’t quite understand,” said Philip. “I didn’t say that I’d turn in whoever it was (if I discovered who it was) to the police. I don’t think that I would. It depends, of course, on the circumstances. Probably it wouldn’t be any use my turning them over to the police because I still think that there couldn’t be any real evidence.”
“Then if there isn’t any real evidence,” said Mary, “how are you going to find out anything?”
“Because,” said Philip, “there are lots of ways of finding out things, of knowing them quite certainly once and for all. And I think, you know, that that’s becoming rather necessary. Things aren’t going very well in this house and very soon they’ll be getting worse.”
“What do you mean?”
“Haven’t you noticed anything, Polly? What about your father and Gwenda Vaughan?”
“What about them? Why my father should want to marry again at his age—”
“I can understand that,” said Philip. “After all, he had rather a raw deal in marriage. He’s got a chance now of real happiness. Autumn happiness, if you like, but he’s got it. Or, shall we say, he had it. Things aren’t going too well between them now.”
“I suppose, all this business—” said Mary vaguely.
“Exactly,” said Philip. “All this business. It’s shoving them further apart every day. And there could be two reasons for that. Suspicion or guilt.”
“Suspicion of whom?”
“Well, let’s say of each other. Or suspicion on one side and consciousness of guilt on the other and vice versa and as you were and as you like it.”
“Don’t, Philip, you’re confusing me.” Suddenly a faint trace of animation came into Mary’s manner. “So you think it was Gwenda?” she said. “Perhaps you’re right. Oh, what a blessing it would be if it was Gwenda.”
“Poor Gwenda. Because she’s one removed from the family, you mean?”
“Yes,” said Mary. “I mean then it wouldn’t be one of us.”
“That’s all you feel about it, is it?” said Philip. “How it affects us.”
“Of course,” said Mary.
“Of course, of course,” said Philip irritably. “The trouble with you is, Polly, you haven’t got any imagination. You can’t put yourself in anyone else’s place.”
“Why should one?” asked Mary.
“Yes, why should one?” said Philip. “I suppose if I’m honest I’d say to pass the time away. But I can put myself in your father’s place, or in Gwenda’s, and if they’re innocent, what hell it must be. What hell for Gwenda to be held suddenly at arm’s length. To know in her heart that she’s not going to be able to marry the man she loves after all. And then put yourself in your father’s place. He knows, he can’t help knowing, that the woman he is in love with had an opportunity to do the murder and had a motive, too. He hopes she didn’t do it, he thinks she didn’t do it, but he isn’t sure. And what’s more he never will be sure.”
“At his age—” began Mary.
“Oh, at his age, at his age,” said Philip impatiently. “Don’t you realize it’s worse for a man of that age? It’s the last love of his life. He’s not likely to have another. It goes deep. And taking the other point of view,” he went on, “suppose Leo came out of the mists and shadows of the self-contained world that he’s managed to live in so long. Suppose it was he who struck down his wife? One can almost feel sorry for the poor devil, can’t one? Not,” he added meditatively, “that I really can imagine his doing anything of the sort for a moment. But I’ve no doubt the police can imagine it all right. Now, Polly, let’s hear