Sparkling Cyanide - Agatha Christie [39]
‘I think I must have been unsatisfied all along. I think I must have been subconsciously preparing myself so that when I saw the thing written down in black and white I accepted it without doubt.’
‘Yes.’ Race nodded. ‘Well, then, let’s have it. Who do you suspect?’
George leaned forward—his face twitching.
‘That’s what is so terrible. If Rosemary was killed, one of those people round the table, one of our friends, must have done it. No one else came near the table.’
‘Waiters? Who poured out the wine?’
‘Charles, the head waiter at the Luxembourg. You know Charles?’
Race assented. Everybody knew Charles. It seemed quite impossible to imagine that Charles could have deliberately poisoned a client.
‘And the waiter who looked after us was Giuseppe. We know Giuseppe well. I’ve known him for years. He always looks after me there. He’s a delightful cheery little fellow.’
‘So we come to the dinner party. Who was there?’
‘Stephen Farraday, the M.P. His wife, Lady Alexandra Farraday. My secretary, Ruth Lessing. A fellow called Anthony Browne. Rosemary’s sister, Iris, and myself. Seven in all. We should have been eight if you had come. When you dropped out we couldn’t think of anybody suitable to ask at the last minute.’
‘I see. Well, Barton, who do you think did it?’
George cried out: ‘I don’t know—I tell you I don’t know. If I had any idea—’
‘All right—all right. I just thought you might have a definite suspicion. Well, it oughtn’t to be difficult. How did you sit—starting with yourself?’
‘I had Sandra Farraday on my right, of course. Next to her, Anthony Browne. Then Rosemary. Then Stephen Farraday, then Iris, then Ruth Lessing who sat on my left.’
‘I see. And your wife had drunk champagne earlier in the evening?’
‘Yes. The glasses had been filled up several times. It—it happened while the cabaret show was on. There was a lot of noise—it was one of those negro shows and we were all watching it. She slumped forward on the table just before the lights went up. She may have cried out—or gasped—but nobody heard anything. The doctor said that death must have been practically instantaneous. Thank God for that.’
‘Yes, indeed. Well, Barton—on the face of it, it seems fairly obvious.’
‘You mean?’
‘Stephen Farraday of course. He was on her right hand. Her champagne glass would be close to his left hand. Easiest thing in the world to put the stuff in as soon as the lights were lowered and general attention went to the raised stage. I can’t see that anybody else had anything like as good an opportunity. I know those Luxembourg tables. There’s plenty of room round them—I doubt very much if anybody could have leaned across the table, for instance, without being noticed even if the lights were down. The same thing applies to the fellow on Rosemary’s left. He would have had to lean across her to put anything in her glass. There is one other possibility, but we’ll take the obvious person first. Any reason why Stephen Farraday, M.P., should want to do away with your wife?’
George said in a stifled voice:
‘They—they had been rather close friends. If—if Rosemary had turned him down, for instance, he might have wanted revenge.’
‘Sounds highly melodramatic. That is the only motive you can suggest?’
‘Yes,’ said George. His face was very red. Race gave him the most fleeting of glances. Then he went on:
‘We’ll examine possibility No. 2. One of the women.’
‘Why the women?’
‘My dear George, has it escaped your notice that in a party of seven, four women and three men, there will probably be one or two periods during the evening when three couples are dancing and one woman is sitting alone at the table? You did all dance?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Good. Now before the cabaret, can you remember who was sitting alone at any moment?’
George thought a minute.
‘I think—yes, Iris was odd man out last, and Ruth the time before.’
‘You don’t remember when your wife drank champagne last?’
‘Let me see, she had been dancing with Browne. I remember her coming back and saying that had been pretty strenuous—he’s rather a fancy dancer. She drank up the wine