Sparkling Cyanide - Agatha Christie [82]
‘Hallo,’ said Kemp, as he took a sip from his cup. ‘What the hell’s this?’
‘Coffee,’ said Anthony. ‘And I don’t think you’ll like it. I didn’t.’
Chapter 13
Anthony had the pleasure of seeing instant comprehension flash into the eyes of both his companions.
His satisfaction was short-lived, for another thought struck him with the force of a physical blow.
He ejaculated out loud:
‘My God—that car!’
He sprang up.
‘Fool that I was—idiot! She told me that a car had nearly run her down—and I hardly listened. Come on, quick!’
Kemp said:
‘She said she was going straight home when she left the Yard.’
‘Yes. Why didn’t I go with her?’
‘Who’s at the house?’ asked Race.
‘Ruth Lessing was there, waiting for Mrs Drake. It’s possible that they’re both discussing the funeral still!’
‘Discussing everything else as well if I know Mrs Drake,’ said Race. He added abruptly, ‘Has Iris Marle any other relations?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘I think I see the direction in which your thoughts, ideas, are leading you. But—is it physically possible?’
‘I think so. Consider for yourself how much has been taken for granted on one person’s word.’
Kemp was paying the check. The three men hurried out as Kemp said:
‘You think the danger is acute? To Miss Marle?’
‘Yes, I do.’
Anthony swore under his breath and hailed a taxi. The three men got in and the driver was told to go to Elvaston Square as quickly as possible.
Kemp said slowly:
‘I’ve only got the general idea as yet. It washes the Farradays right out.’
‘Yes.’
‘Thank goodness for that. But surely there wouldn’t be another attempt—so soon?’
‘The sooner the better,’ said Race. ‘Before there’s any chance of our minds running on the right track. Third time lucky—that will be the idea.’ He added: ‘Iris Marle told me, in front of Mrs Drake, that she would marry you as soon as you wanted her to.’
They spoke in spasmodic jerks, for the taxi-driver was taking their directions literally and was hurtling round corners and cutting through traffic with immense enthusiasm.
Turning with a final spurt into Elvaston Square, he drew up with a terrific jerk in front of the house.
Elvaston Square had never looked more peaceful.
Anthony, with an effort regained his usual cool manner, murmured:
‘Quite like the movies. Makes one feel rather a fool, somehow.’
But he was on the top step ringing the bell while Race paid off the taxi and Kemp followed up the steps.
The parlourmaid opened the door.
Anthony said sharply:
‘Has Miss Iris got back?’
Evans looked a little surprised.
‘Oh, yes, sir. She came in half an hour ago.’
Anthony breathed a sigh of relief. Everything in the house was so calm and normal that he felt ashamed of his recent melodramatic fears.
‘Where is she?’
‘I expect she’s in the drawing-room with Mrs Drake.’
Anthony nodded and took the stairs in easy strides, Race and Kemp close behind him.
In the drawing-room, placid under its shaded electric lights, Lucilla Drake was hunting through the pigeon holes of the desk with the hopeful absorption of a terrier and murmuring audibly:
‘Dear, dear, now where did I put Mrs Marsham’s letter? Now, let me see…’
‘Where’s Iris?’ demanded Anthony abruptly.
Lucilla turned and stared.
‘Iris? She—I beg your pardon!’ She drew herself up. ‘May I ask who you are?’
Race came forward from behind him and Lucilla’s face cleared. She did not yet see Chief Inspector Kemp who was the third to enter the room.
‘Oh, dear, Colonel Race! How kind of you to come! But I do wish you could have been here a little earlier—I should have liked to consult you about the funeral arrangements—a man’s advice, so valuable—and really I was feeling so upset, as I said to Miss Lessing, that really I couldn’t even think—and I must say that Miss Lessing was really very sympathetic for once and offered to do everything she could to take the burden off my shoulders—only, as she put it very reasonably, naturally I should be the person most likely to know what were George’s favourite hymns—not that I actually