Sparkling Cyanide - Agatha Christie [55]
Kemp soon found, however, that he had been somewhat naïve in his assumption. Lord Kidderminster was far too experienced a diplomat to resort to crudities.
On stating his business, Chief Inspector Kemp was taken at once by a pontifical butler to a dim book-lined room at the back of the house where he found Lord Kidderminster and his daughter and son-in-law awaiting him.
Coming forward, Lord Kidderminster shook hands and said courteously:
‘You are exactly on time, chief inspector. May I say that I much appreciate your courtesy in coming here instead of demanding that my daughter and her husband should come to Scotland Yard which, of course, they would have been quite prepared to do if necessary—that goes without saying—but they appreciate your kindness.’
Sandra said in a quiet voice:
‘Yes, indeed, inspector.’
She was wearing a dress of some soft dark red material, and sitting as she was with the light from the long narrow window behind her, she reminded Kemp of a stained glass figure he had once seen in a cathedral abroad. The long oval of her face and the slight angularity of her shoulders helped the illusion. Saint Somebody or other, they had told him—but Lady Alexandra Farraday was no saint—not by a long way. And yet some of these old saints had been funny people from his point of view, not kindly ordinary decent Christian folk, but intolerant, fanatical, cruel to themselves and others.
Stephen Farraday stood close by his wife. His face expressed no emotion whatever. He looked correct and formal, an appointed legislator of the people. The natural man was well buried. But the natural man was there, as the chief inspector knew.
Lord Kidderminster was speaking, directing with a good deal of ability the trend of the interview.
‘I won’t disguise from you, chief inspector, that this is a very painful and disagreeable business for us all. This is the second time that my daughter and son-in-law have been connected with a violent death in a public place—the same restaurant and two members of the same family. Publicity of such a kind is always harmful to a man in the public eye. Publicity, of course, cannot be avoided. We all realize that, and both my daughter and Mr Farraday are anxious to give you all the help they can in the hope that the matter may be cleared up speedily and public interest in it die down.’
‘Thank you, Lord Kidderminster. I much appreciate the attitude you have taken up. It certainly makes things easier for us.’
Sandra Farraday said:
‘Please ask us any questions you like, chief inspector.’
‘Thank you, Lady Alexandra.’
‘Just one point, chief inspector,’ said Lord Kidderminster. ‘You have, of course, your own sources of information and I gather from my friend the Commissioner that this man Barton’s death is regarded as murder rather than suicide, though on the face of it, to the outside public, suicide would seem a more likely explanation. You thought it was suicide, didn’t you, Sandra, my dear?’
The Gothic figure bowed its head slightly. Sandra said in a thoughtful voice:
‘It seemed to me so obvious last night. We were there in the same restaurant and actually at the same table where poor Rosemary Barton poisoned herself last year. We have seen something of Mr Barton during the summer in the country and he has really been very odd—quite unlike himself—and we all thought that his wife’s death was preying on his mind. He was very fond of her, you know, and I don’t think he ever got over her death. So that the idea of suicide seemed, it not natural, at least possible—whereas I can’t imagine why anyone should want to murder George Barton.’
Stephen Farraday said quickly:
‘No more can I. Barton was an excellent fellow. I’m sure he hadn’t got an enemy in the world.’
Chief Inspector Kemp looked at the three inquiring faces turned towards