Secret of Chimneys - Agatha Christie [41]
‘But why do you ask? You know he was shot here, don’t you?’
‘Ah!’ said the superintendent. ‘We never know as much as we’d like to know. But, yes, he was shot here all right. Now you said something about trying the windows, didn’t you?’
‘Yes. They were fastened from the inside.’
‘How many of them did you try?’
‘All three of them.’
‘Sure of that, sir?’
‘I’m in the habit of being sure. Why do you ask?’
‘That’s a funny thing,’ said the superintendent.
‘What’s a funny thing?’
‘When the crime was discovered this morning, the middle one was open–not latched, that is to say.’
‘Whew!’ said Anthony, sinking down on the window-seat, and taking out his cigarette case. ‘That’s rather a blow. That opens up quite a different aspect of the case. It leaves us two alternatives. Either he was killed by someone in the house, and that someone unlatched the window after I had gone to make it look like an outside job–incidentally with me as Little Willie–or else, not to mince matters, I’m lying. I dare say you incline to the second possibility, but, upon my honour, you’re wrong.’
‘Nobody’s going to leave this house until I’m through with them, I can tell you that,’ said Superintendent Battle grimly.
Anthony looked at him keenly.
‘How long have you had the idea that it might be an inside job?’ he asked.
Battle smiled.
‘I’ve had a notion that way all along. Your trail was a bit too–flaring, if I may put it that way. As soon as your boots fitted the footmarks, I began to have my doubts.’
‘I congratulate Scotland Yard,’ said Anthony lightly.
But at that moment, the moment when Battle apparently admitted Anthony’s complete absence of complicity in the crime, Anthony felt more than ever the need of being upon his guard. Superintendent Battle was a very astute officer. It would not do to make any slip with Superintendent Battle about.
‘That’s where it happened, I suppose?’ said Anthony, nodding towards the dark patch upon the floor.
‘Yes.’
‘What was he shot with–a revolver?’
‘Yes, but we shan’t know what make until they get the bullet out at the autopsy.’
‘It wasn’t found then?’
‘No, it wasn’t found.’
‘No clues of any kind?’
‘Well, we’ve got this.’
Rather after the manner of a conjurer, Superintendent Battle produced a half-sheet of notepaper. And, as he did so, he again watched Anthony closely without seeming to do so.
But Anthony recognized the design upon it without any sign of consternation.
‘Aha! Comrades of the Red Hand again. If they’re going to scatter this sort of thing about, they ought to have it lithographed. It must be a frightful nuisance doing every one separately. Where was this found?’
‘Underneath the body. You’ve seen it before, sir?’
Anthony recounted to him in detail his short encounter with that public-spirited association.
‘The idea is, I suppose, that the Comrades did him in.’
‘Do you think it likely, sir?’
‘Well, it would be in keeping with their propaganda. But I’ve always found that those who talk most about blood have never actually seen it run. I shouldn’t have said the Comrades had the guts myself. And they’re such picturesque people too. I don’t see one of them disguising himself as a suitable guest for a country house. Still, one never knows.’
‘Quite right, Mr Cade. One never knows.’
Anthony looked suddenly amused.
‘I see the big idea now. Open window, trail of footprints, suspicious stranger at the village inn. But I can assure you, my dear Superintendent, that whatever I am, I am not the local agent of the Red Hand.’
Superintendent Battle smiled a little. Then he played his last card.
‘Would you have any objection to seeing the body?’ he shot out suddenly.
‘None whatever,’ rejoined Anthony.
Battle took a key from his pocket, and preceding Anthony down the corridor, paused at a door and unlocked it. It was one of the smaller drawing-rooms. The body lay on a table covered with a sheet.
Superintendent Battle waited until Anthony was beside him, and then whisked away the sheet suddenly.
An eager light sprang into his eyes at the half-uttered exclamation and the start