Taken at the Flood - Agatha Christie [50]
From a long way away, she heard Rowley’s voice asking:
‘What’s the matter, Lynn? Are you feeling all right?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Well, for heaven’s sake, don’t look so glum.’ He turned, looking down the hillside to Long Willows. ‘Thank goodness, we can have the place smartened up a bit now — get some labour-saving gadgets put in — make it right for you. I don’t want you to pig it, Lynn.’
That was to be her home — that house. Her home with Rowley…
And one morning at eight o’clock, David would swing by the neck until he was dead…
Chapter 3
With a pale determined face and watchful eyes, David had his hands on Rosaleen’s shoulders.
‘It will be all right, I’m telling you, it will be all right. But you must keep your head and do exactly as I tell you.’
‘And if they take you away? You said that! You did say that they might take you away.’
‘It’s a possibility, yes. But it won’t be for long. Not if you keep your head.’
‘I’ll do what you tell me, David.’
‘There’s the girl! All you have to do, Rosaleen, is to stick to your story. Hold to it that the dead man is not your husband, Robert Underhay.’
‘They’ll trap me into saying things I don’t mean.’
‘No — they won’t. It’s all right, I tell you.’
‘No, it’s wrong — it’s been wrong all along. Taking money that doesn’t belong to us. I lie awake nights thinking of it, David. Taking what doesn’t belong to us. God is punishing us for our wickedness.’
He looked at her, frowning. She was cracking — yes, definitely she was cracking. There had always been that religious streak. Her conscience had never been quite stilled. Now, unless he was extremely lucky, she’d break down completely. Well, there was only one thing to be done.
‘Listen, Rosaleen,’ he said gently. ‘Do you want me to be hanged?’
Her eyes widened in horror.
‘Oh, David, you wouldn’t — they couldn’t — ’
‘There’s only one person who can hang me — that’s you. If you once admit, by look or sign or word, that the dead man might be Underhay, you put the rope round my neck! Do you understand that?’
Yes, that had got home. She gazed at him with wide, horrified eyes.
‘I’m so stupid, David.’
‘No, you’re not. In any case you haven’t got to be clever. You’ll have to swear solemnly that the dead man is not your husband. You can do that?’
She nodded.
‘Look stupid if you like. Look as if you don’t understand quite what they’re asking you. That will do no harm. But stand firm on the points I’ve gone over with you. Gaythorne will look after you. He’s a very able criminal lawyer — that’s why I’ve got him. He’ll be at the inquest and he’ll protect you from any heckling. But even to him stick to your story. For God’s sake don’t try to be clever or think you can help me by some line of your own.’
‘I’ll do it, David. I’ll do exactly what you tell me.’
‘Good girl. When it’s all over we’ll go away — to the South of France — to America. In the meantime, take care of your health. Don’t lie awake at nights fretting and working yourself up. Take those sleepings things Dr Cloade prescribed for you — bromide or something. Take one every night, cheer up, and remember there’s a good time coming!
‘Now — ’ he looked at his watch. ‘It’s time to go to the inquest. It’s called for eleven.’
He looked round the long beautiful drawing-room. Beauty, comfort, wealth…He’d enjoyed it all. A fine house, Furrowbank. Perhaps this was Goodbye…
He’d got himself into a jam — that was certain. But even now he didn’t regret. And for the future — well, he’d go on taking chances. ‘And we must take the current when it serves or lose our ventures.’
He looked at Rosaleen. She was watching him with large appealing eyes and intuitively he knew what she wanted.
‘I didn’t kill him, Rosaleen,’ he said gently. ‘I swear it to you by every saint in your calendar!’
Chapter 4
The Inquest was held in the Cornmarket.
The coroner, Mr Pebmarsh, was a small fussy man with glasses and a considerable sense of his own importance.
Beside him sat the large bulk of Superintendent Spence. In an unobtrusive seat was a small foreign-looking man with