Ordeal by Innocence - Agatha Christie [88]
“I’ve got to finish what I began,” said Calgary.
Very gently he put a hand on her shoulder and moved her slightly aside. He walked up the stairs and Hester followed him. He turned back over his shoulder and said to Kirsten: “Come, too, Miss Lindstrom, I would like you all to be here.”
In the library, Leo Argyle was sitting in a chair by the desk. Gwenda Vaughan was kneeling in front of the fire, staring into its embers. They looked up with some surprise.
“I’m sorry to burst in upon you,” said Calgary, “but as I’ve just been saying to these two, I’ve come to finish what I began.” He looked round. “Is Mrs. Durrant in the house still? I should like her to be here also.”
“She’s lying down, I think,” said Leo. “She—she’s taken things terribly hard.”
“I should like her to be here all the same.” He looked at Kirsten. “Perhaps you would go and fetch her.”
“She may not want to come,” said Kirsten sullenly.
“Tell her,” said Calgary, “that there are things she may want to hear about her husband’s death.”
“Oh, go on, Kirsty,” said Hester. “Don’t be so suspicious and so protective of us all. I don’t know what Dr. Calgary’s going to say, but we ought all to be here.”
“As you please,” said Kirsten.
She went out of the room.
“Sit down,” said Leo. He indicated a chair on the other side of the fireplace, and Calgary sat there.
“You must forgive me,” said Leo, “if I say at this moment that I wish you’d never come here in the first place, Dr. Calgary.”
“That’s unfair,” said Hester fiercely. “That’s a terribly unfair thing to say.”
“I know what you must feel,” said Calgary. “I think in your place I should feel much the same. Perhaps I even shared your view for a short period, but on reflection I still cannot see that there was anything else that I could have done.”
Kirsten re-entered the room. “Mary is coming,” she said.
They sat in silence waiting and presently Mary Durrant entered the room. Calgary looked at her with interest, since it was the first time he had seen her. She looked calm and composed, neatly dressed, every hair in place. But her face was masklike in its lack of expression and there was an air about her as of a woman who walks in her sleep.
Leo made an introduction. She bowed her head slightly.
“It is good of you to come, Mrs. Durrant,” said Calgary. “I thought you ought to hear what I have to say.”
“As you please,” said Mary. “But nothing that you can say or anyone can say will bring Philip back again.”
She went a little way away from them and sat down in a chair by the window. Calgary looked round him.
“Let me first say this: When I came here the first time, when I told you that I was able to clear Jacko’s name, your reception of my news puzzled me. I understand it now. But the thing that made the greatest impression upon me was what this child here”—he looked at Hester—“said to me as I left. She said that it was not justice that mattered, it was what happened to the innocent. There is a phrase in the latest translation of the Book of Job that describes it. The calamity of the innocent. As a result of my news that is what you have all been suffering. The innocent should not suffer, and must not suffer, and it is to end the suffering of the innocent that I am here now to say what I have to say.”
He paused for a moment or two but no one spoke. In his quiet pedantic voice, Arthur Calgary went on:
“When I came here first, it was not, as I thought, to bring you what might be described as tidings of great joy. You had all accepted Jacko’s guilt. You were all, if I may say so, satisfied with it. It was the best solution that there could be in the murder of Mrs. Argyle.”
“Isn’t that speaking a little harshly?” asked Leo.
“No,” said Calgary, “it is the truth. Jacko was satisfactory to you all as the criminal since there could be no real question of an outsider having committed the crime, and because in the case of Jacko you could find the necessary excuses. He was unfortunate, a mental invalid, not responsible for his actions, a problem