Taken at the Flood - Agatha Christie [59]
‘My lips are sealed.’
‘I mean — of course I’d no idea at the time — that Robert Underhay, poor man, so tragic — was actually in Warmsley Vale. That seems to me still a most extraordinary coincidence!’
‘It would have been simpler,’ agreed Poirot, ‘if the Ouija board had directed you straight to the Stag.’
Aunt Kathie cheered up a little at the mention of the Ouija board.
‘The way things come about in the spirit world seem quite incalculable,’ she said. ‘But I do feel, M. Poirot, that there is a purpose in it all. Don’t you feel that in life? That there is always a purpose?’
‘Yes, indeed, Madame. Even that I should sit here, now, in your drawing-room, there is a purpose in that.’
‘Oh, is there?’ Mrs Cloade looked rather taken aback. ‘Is there, really? Yes, I suppose so…You’re on your way back to London, of course?’
‘Not at present. I stay for a few days at the Stag.’
‘At the Stag? Oh — at the Stag! But that’s where — oh, M. Poirot, do you think you are wise?’
‘I have been guided to the Stag,’ said Poirot solemnly.
‘Guided? What do you mean?’
‘Guided by you.’
‘Oh, but I never meant — I mean, I had no idea. It’s all so dreadful, don’t you think so?’
Poirot shook his head sadly, and said:
‘I have been talking to Mr Rowley Cloade and Miss Marchmont. They are getting married, I hear, quite soon?’
Aunt Kathie was immediately diverted.
‘Dear Lynn, she is such a sweet girl — and so very good at figures. Now, I have no head for figures — no head at all. Having Lynn home is an absolute blessing. If I get in a terrible muddle she always straightens things out for me. Dear girl, I do hope she will be happy. Rowley, of course, is a splendid person, but possibly — well, a little dull. I mean dull to a girl who has seen as much of the world as Lynn has. Rowley, you see, has been here on his farm all through the war — oh, quite rightly, of course — I mean the Government wanted him to — that side of it is quite all right — not white feathers or things like that as they did in the Boer War — but what I mean is, it’s made him rather limited in his ideas.’
‘Six years’ engagement is a good test of affection.’
‘Oh, it is! But I think these girls, when they come home, they get rather restless — and if there is someone else about — someone, perhaps, who has led an adventurous life — ’
‘Such as David Hunter?’
‘There isn’t anything between them,’ Aunt Kathie said anxiously. ‘Nothing at all. I’m quite sure of that! It would have been dreadful if there had been, wouldn’t there, with his turning out a murderer? His own brother-in-law, too! Oh, no, M. Poirot, please don’t run away with the idea that there’s any kind of an understanding between Lynn and David. Really, they seemed to quarrel more than anything else every time they met. What I felt is that — oh, dear, I think that’s my husband coming. You will remember, won’t you, M. Poirot, not a word about our first meeting? My poor dear husband gets so annoyed if he thinks that — oh, Lionel dear, here is M. Poirot who so cleverly brought that Major Porter down to see the body.’
Dr Cloade looked tired and haggard. His eyes, pale blue, with pin-point pupils, wandered vaguely round the room.
‘How do you do, M. Poirot; on your way back to town?’
‘Mon Dieu, another who packs me back to London!’ thought Poirot.
Aloud he said patiently:
‘No, I remain at the Stag for a day or so.’
‘The Stag?’ Lionel Cloade frowned. ‘Oh? Police want to keep you here for a bit?’
‘No. It is my own choice.’
‘Indeed?’ The doctor suddenly flashed a quick intelligent look. ‘So you’re not satisfied?’
‘Why should you think that, Dr Cloade?’
‘Come, man, it’s true, isn’t it?’ Twittering about tea, Mrs Cloade left the room. The doctor went on: ‘You’ve a feeling, haven’t you, that something’s wrong?’
Poirot was startled.
‘It is odd that you should say that. Do you, then, feel that yourself?’
Cloade hesitated.
‘N-n-o. Hardly that…perhaps it’s just a feeling of unreality. In books the blackmailer gets slugged. Does he in real life? Apparently