Ordeal by Innocence - Agatha Christie [8]
“You will, of course, receive a full report from him. He has only delayed it because I was anxious to be the one who first acquainted you with the truth. I felt that that was an ordeal it was my duty to go through. You understand, I am sure, that I shall always feel a deep load of guilt. If I had been more careful crossing the street—” He broke off. “I understand that your feelings towards me can never be kindly—though I am, technically, blameless—you, all of you, must blame me.”
Gwenda Vaughan said quickly, her voice warm and kindly:
“Of course we don’t blame you. It’s just—one of those things. Tragic—incredible—but there it is.”
Hester said:
“Did they believe you?”
He looked at her in surprise.
“The police—did they believe you? Why shouldn’t you be making it all up?”
He smiled a little in spite of himself.
“I’m a very reputable witness,” he said gently. “I have no axe to grind, and they have gone into my story very closely; medical evidence, various corroborating details from Drymouth. Oh, yes. Marshall was cautious, of course, like all lawyers. He didn’t want to raise your hopes until he was pretty certain of success.”
Leo Argyle stirred in his chair and spoke for the first time.
“What exactly do you mean by success?”
“I apologize,” said Calgary quickly. “That is not a word that can rightly be used. Your son was accused of a crime he did not commit, was tried for it, condemned—and died in prison. Justice has come too late for him. But such justice as can be done, almost certainly will be done, and will be seen to be done. The Home Secretary will probably advise the Queen that a free pardon should be granted.”
Hester laughed.
“A free pardon—for something he didn’t do?”
“I know. The terminology always seems unrealistic. But I understand that the custom is for a question to be asked in the House, the reply to which will make it clear that Jack Argyle did not commit the crime for which he was sentenced, and the newspapers will report that fact freely.”
He stopped. Nobody spoke. It had been, he supposed, a great shock to them. But after all, a happy one.
He rose to his feet.
“I’m afraid,” he said uncertainly, “that there is nothing more that I can say … To repeat how sorry I am, how unhappy about it all, to ask your forgiveness—all that you must already know only too well. The tragedy that ended his life, has darkened my own. But at least”—he spoke with pleading—“surely it means something—to know that he didn’t do this awful thing—that his name—your name—will be cleared in the eyes of the world …?”
If he hoped for a reply he did not get one.
Leo Argyle sat slumped in his chair. Gwenda’s eyes were on Leo’s face. Hester sat staring ahead of her, her eyes wide and tragic. Miss Lindstrom grunted something under her breath and shook her head.
Calgary stood helplessly by the door, looking back at them.
It was Gwenda Vaughan who took charge of the situation. She came up to him and laid a hand on his arm, saying in a low voice:
“You’d better go now, Dr. Calgary. It’s been too much of a shock. They must have time to take it in.”
He nodded and went out. On the landing Miss Lindstrom joined him.
“I will let you out,” she said.
He was conscious, looking back before the door closed behind him, of Gwenda Vaughan slipping to her knees by Leo Argyle’s chair. It surprised him a little.
Facing him, on the landing, Miss Lindstrom stood like a Guardsman and spoke harshly.
“You cannot bring him back to life. So why bring it all back into their minds? Till now, they were resigned. Now they will suffer. It is better, always, to