Spider's Web - Agatha Christie [58]
The Inspector looked a trifle embarrassed. ‘Yes–hmmm–well,’ he began. Then, pulling himself together, he said, ‘Frankly, sir, it was a bit difficult to swallow, you’ll admit.’
‘Oh, I admit that, certainly,’ Sir Rowland assured him.
‘Not that I blame you, sir,’ the Inspector went on in a confidential tone. ‘Mrs Hailsham-Brown is a lady who has a very taking way with her.’ He shook his head reflectively, then, ‘Well, good night, sir,’ he said.
‘Good night, Inspector,’ Sir Rowland replied amiably.
‘Good night, Mr Birch,’ the Inspector called, backing towards the hall door.
‘Good night, Inspector, and well done,’ Hugo responded, coming over to him and shaking hands.
‘Thank you, sir,’ said the Inspector.
He left, and Hugo yawned. ‘Oh, well, I suppose I’d better be going home to bed,’ he announced to Sir Rowland. ‘Some evening, eh?’
‘As you say, Hugo, some evening,’ Sir Rowland replied, tidying the bridge table as he spoke. ‘Good night.’
‘Good night,’ Hugo responded, and made his way out into the hall.
Sir Rowland left the cards and markers in a neat pile on the table, then picked up Who’s Who and replaced it on the bookshelves. Clarissa came in from the hall, went over to him and put her hands on his arms. ‘Darling Roly,’ she addressed him. ‘What would we have done without you? You are so clever.’
‘And you are a very lucky young woman,’ he told her. ‘It’s a good thing you didn’t lose your heart to that young villain, Warrender.’
Clarissa shuddered. ‘There was no danger of that,’ she replied. Then, smiling tenderly, ‘If I lost my heart to anybody, darling, it would be to you,’ she assured him.
‘Now, now, none of your tricks with me,’ Sir Rowland warned her, laughing. ‘If you–’
He stopped short as Henry Hailsham-Brown came in through the French windows, and Clarissa gave a startled exclamation. ‘Henry!’
‘Hello, Roly,’ Henry greeted his friend. ‘I thought you were going to the club tonight.’
‘Well–er–I thought I’d turn in early,’ was all that Sir Rowland felt capable of saying at that moment. ‘It’s been rather a strenuous evening.’
Henry looked at the bridge table. ‘What? Strenuous bridge?’ he inquired playfully.
Sir Rowland smiled. ‘Bridge and–er–other things,’ he replied as he went to the hall door. ‘Good night, all.’
Clarissa blew him a kiss and he blew one to her in return as he left the room. Then Clarissa turned to Henry. ‘Where’s Kalendorff–I mean, where’s Mr Jones?’ she asked urgently.
Henry put his briefcase on the sofa. In a voice of weary frustration he muttered, ‘It’s absolutely infuriating. He didn’t come.’
‘What?’ Clarissa could hardly believe her ears.
‘The plane arrived with nothing but a half-baked aide-de-camp in it,’ Henry told her, unbuttoning his overcoat as he spoke.
Clarissa helped him off with the coat, and Henry continued, ‘The first thing he did was to turn round and fly back again where he’d come from.’
‘What on earth for?’
‘How do I know?’ Understandably, Henry sounded somewhat on edge. ‘He was suspicious, it seems. Suspicious of what? Who knows?’
‘But what about Sir John?’ Clarissa asked as she removed Henry’s hat from his head.
‘That’s the worst of it,’ he groaned. ‘I was too late to stop him, and he’ll be arriving down here any minute now, I expect.’ Henry consulted his watch. ‘Of course, I rang up Downing Street at once from the aerodrome, but he’d already started out. Oh, the whole thing’s a most ghastly fiasco.’
Henry sank on to the sofa with an exhausted sigh, and as he did so the telephone rang. ‘I’ll answer it,’ Clarissa said, crossing the room to do so. ‘It may be the police.’ She lifted the receiver.
Henry looked at her questioningly. ‘The police?’
‘Yes, this is Copplestone Court,’ Clarissa was saying into the telephone. ‘Yes–yes, he’s here.’ She looked across at Henry. ‘It’s for you, darling,’ she told him. ‘It’s Bindley Heath aerodrome.’
Henry rose and began to rush across to the phone, but stopped half-way and proceeded at a dignified walk. ‘Hello,’ he