Passenger to Frankfurt - Agatha Christie [27]
‘Well, what do you suggest ought to be done?’
‘Are you asking my advice? Mine? Do you know how old I am?’
‘Getting on for ninety,’ suggested her nephew.
‘Not quite as old as that,’ said Lady Matilda, slightly affronted. ‘Do I look it, my dear boy?’
‘No, darling. You look a nice, comfortable sixty-six.’
‘That’s better,’ said Lady Matilda. ‘Quite untrue. But better. If I get a tip of any kind from one of my dear old admirals or an old general or even possibly an air marshal–they do hear things, you know–they’ve got cronies still and the old boys get together and talk. And so it gets around. There’s always been the grapevine and there still is a grapevine, no matter how elderly the people are. The young Siegfried. We want a clue to just what that means–I don’t know if he’s a person or a password or the name of a Club or a new Messiah or a Pop singer. But that term covers something. There’s the musical motif too. I’ve rather forgotten my Wagnerian days.’ Her aged voice croaked out a partially recognizable melody. ‘Siegfried’s horn call, isn’t that it? Get a recorder, why don’t you? Do I mean a recorder. I don’t mean a record that you put on a gramophone–I mean the things that schoolchildren play. They have classes for them. Went to a talk the other day. Our vicar got it up. Quite interesting. You know, tracing the history of the recorder and the kind of recorders there were from the Elizabethan age onwards. Some big, some small, all different notes and sounds. Very interesting. Interesting hearing in two senses. The recorders themselves. Some of them give out lovely noises. And the history. Yes. Well, what was I saying?’
‘You told me to get one of these instruments, I gather.’
‘Yes. Get a recorder and learn to blow Siegfried’s horn call on that. You’re musical, you always were. You can manage that, I hope?’
‘Well, it seems a very small part to play in the salvation of the world, but I dare say I could manage that.’
‘And have the thing ready. Because, you see–’ she tapped on the table with her spectacle case–‘you might want it to impress the wrong people some time. Might come in useful. They’d welcome you with open arms and then you might learn a bit.’
‘You certainly have ideas,’ said Sir Stafford admiringly.
‘What else can you have when you’re my age?’ said his great-aunt. ‘You can’t get about. You can’t meddle with people much, you can’t do any gardening. All you can do is sit in your chair and have ideas. Remember that when you’re forty years older.’
‘One remark you made interested me.’
‘Only one?’ said Lady Matilda. ‘That’s rather poor measure considering how much I’ve been talking. What was it?’
‘You suggested that I might be capable of impressing the wrong people with my recorder–did you mean that?’
‘Well, it’s one way, isn’t it? The right people don’t matter. But the wrong people–well, you’ve got to find out things, haven’t you? You’ve got to permeate things. Rather like a death-watch beetle,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘So I should make significant noises in the night?’
‘Well, that sort of thing, yes. We had death-watch beetle in the east wing here once. Very expensive it was to put it right. I dare say it will be just as expensive to put the world right.’
‘In fact a good deal more expensive,’ said Stafford Nye.
‘That won’t matter,’ said Lady Matilda. ‘People never mind spending a great deal of money. It impresses