Secret of Chimneys - Agatha Christie [53]
‘That’s interesting.’
‘Probably there’s nothing in it. All the same, I mean to see Mademoiselle before the day is out.’
Lunch was somewhat of an ordeal. Even the cheerful impartiality of Bundle failed to reconcile the heterogeneous assembly. The Baron and Andrassy were correct, formal, full of etiquette, and had the air of attending a meal in a mausoleum. Lord Catherham was lethargic and depressed. Bill Eversleigh stared longingly at Virginia. George, very mindful of the trying position in which he found himself, conversed weightily with the Baron and Mr Isaacstein. Guggle and Winkle, completely beside themselves with joy at having a murder in the house, had to be continually checked and kept under, whilst Mr Hiram Fish slowly masticated his food, and drawled out dry remarks in his own peculiar idiom. Superintendent Battle had considerately vanished, and nobody knew what had become of him.
‘Thank God that’s over,’ murmured Bundle to Anthony, as they left the table. ‘And George is taking the foreign contingent over to the Abbey this afternoon to discuss State secrets.’
‘That will possibly relieve the atmosphere,’ agreed Anthony.
‘I don’t mind the American so much,’ continued Bundle. ‘He and Father can talk first editions together quite happily in some secluded spot. Mr Fish’–as the object of their conversation drew near–‘I’m planning a peaceful afternoon for you.’
The American bowed.
‘That’s too kind of you, Lady Eileen.’
‘Mr Fish,’ said Anthony, ‘had quite a peaceful morning.’
Mr Fish shot a quick glance at him.
‘Ah, you observed me, then, in my secluded retreat? There are moments, sir, when far from the madding crowd is the only motto for a man of quiet tastes.’
Bundle had drifted on, and the American and Anthony were left together. The former dropped his voice a little.
‘I opine,’ he said, ‘that there is considerable mystery about this little dust-up?’
‘Any amount of it,’ said Anthony.
‘That guy with the bald head was perhaps a family connexion?’
‘Something of the kind.’
‘These Central European nations beat the band,’ declared Mr Fish. ‘It’s kind of being rumoured around that the deceased gentleman was a Royal Highness. Is that so, do you know?’
‘He was staying here as Count Stanislaus,’ replied Anthony evasively.
To this Mr Fish offered no further rejoinder than the somewhat cryptic:
‘Oh, boy!’
After which he relapsed into silence for some moments.
‘This police captain of yours,’ he observed at last. ‘Battle, or whatever his name is, is he the goods all right?’
‘Scotland Yard think so,’ replied Anthony dryly.
‘He seems kind of hidebound to me,’ remarked Mr Fish. ‘No hustle to him. This big idea of his, letting no one leave the house, what is there to it?’
He darted a very sharp look at Anthony as he spoke.
‘Everyone’s got to attend the inquest tomorrow morning, you see.’
‘That’s the idea is it? No more to it than that? No question of Lord Caterham’s guests being suspected?’
‘My dear Mr Fish!’
‘I was getting a mite uneasy–being a stranger in this country. But of course it was an outside job–I remember now. Window found unfastened, wasn’t it?’
‘It was,’ said Anthony, looking straight in front of him.
Mr Fish sighed. After a minute or two he said in a plaintive tone:
‘Young man, do you know how they get the water out of a mine?’
‘How?’
‘By pumping–but it’s almighty hard work! I observe the figure of my genial host detaching itself from the group over yonder. I must join him.’
Mr Fish walked gently away, and Bundle drifted back again.
‘Funny Fish, isn’t he?’ she remarked.
‘He is.’
‘It’s no good looking for Virginia,’ said Bundle sharply.
‘I wasn’t.’
‘You were. I don’t know how she does it. It isn’t what she says, I don’t even believe it’s what she looks. But, oh, boy! she gets there everytime. Anyway, she’s on duty elsewhere for the time. She told me to be nice to you, and I’m going to be nice to you–by force if necessary.’
‘No force required,’ Anthony assured her. ‘But, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you were nice