Taken at the Flood - Agatha Christie [43]
‘Did you give him any money, sir?’
There was a fractional pause and then David said:
‘Just a fiver — for luck. He’d been in the war all right.’
‘He mentioned certain names that you — knew?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was one of those names Captain Robert Underhay?’
Now at last he got his effect. David stiffened. Behind him, Rosaleen gave a little frightened gasp.
‘What makes you think that, Superintendent?’ David asked at last. His eyes were cautious, probing.
‘Information received,’ said the Superintendent stolidly.
There was a short silence. The Superintendent was aware of David’s eyes, studying him, sizing him up, striving to know…He himself waited quietly.
‘Any idea who Robert Underhay was, Superintendent?’ David asked.
‘Suppose you tell me, sir.’
‘Robert Underhay was my sister’s first husband. He died in Africa some years ago.’
‘Quite sure of that, Mr Hunter?’ Spence asked quickly.
‘Quite sure. That’s so, isn’t it, Rosaleen?’ He turned to her.
‘Oh, yes.’ She spoke quickly and breathlessly. ‘Robert died of fever — blackwater fever. It was very sad.’
‘Sometimes stories get about that aren’t quite true, Mrs Cloade.’
She said nothing. She was looking not at him, but at her brother. Then, after a moment, she said:
‘Robert’s dead.’
‘From information in my possession,’ said the Superintendent, ‘I understand that this man, Enoch Arden, claimed to be a friend of the late Robert Underhay and at the same time informed you, Mr Hunter, that Robert Underhay was alive.’
David shook his head.
‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘Absolute nonsense.’
‘You state definitely that the name of Robert Underhay was not mentioned?’
‘Oh,’ David smiled charmingly, ‘it was mentioned. This poor fellow had known Underhay.’
‘There was no question of — blackmail, Mr Hunter?’
‘Blackmail? I don’t understand you, Superintendent.’
‘Don’t you really, Mr Hunter? By the way, just as a matter of form, where were you last night — between, shall we say, seven and eleven?’
‘Just as a matter of form, Superintendent, suppose I refuse to answer?’
‘Aren’t you behaving rather childishly, Mr Hunter?’
‘I don’t think so. I dislike — I always have disliked, being bullied.’
The Superintendent thought that was probably true.
He’d known witnesses of the David Hunter type before. Witnesses who were obstructive for the sake of being obstructive, and not in the least because they had anything to hide. The mere fact of being asked to account for their comings and goings seemed to raise a black pride and sullenness in them. They would make it a point to give the law all the trouble they could.
Superintendent Spence, though he prided himself on being a fair-minded man, had nevertheless come to Shepherd’s Court with a very strong conviction that David Hunter was a murderer.
Now, for the first time, he was not so sure. The very puerility of David’s defiance awoke doubts in him.
Spence looked at Rosaleen Cloade. She responded at once.
‘David, why don’t you tell him?’
‘That’s right, Mrs Cloade. We only want to clear things up — ’
David broke in savagely:
‘You’ll stop bullying my sister, do you hear? What is it to you where I may have been, here, or at Warmsley Vale or in Timbuctoo?’
Spence said warningly:
‘You’ll be subpoena’d for the inquest, Mr Hunter, and there you’ll have to answer questions.’
‘I’ll wait for the inquest, then! And now, Superintendent, will you get to hell out of here?’
‘Very good, sir.’ The Superintendent rose, imperturbable. ‘But I’ve something to ask Mrs Cloade first.’
‘I don’t want my sister worried.’
‘Quite so. But I want her to look at the body and tell me if she can identify it. I’m within my rights there. It’ll have to be done sooner or later. Why not let her come down with me now and get it over? The late Mr Arden was heard by a witness to say that he knew Robert Underhay — ergo he may have known Mrs Underhay — and therefore Mrs Underhay may know him. If his name isn’t Enoch Arden, we could do with knowing what