The Floating Admiral - Agatha Christie [105]
“An arrest!” Fitzgerald stared at him. “Oh! For Admiral Penistone’s death?”
“For Admiral Penistone’s murder,” returned Rudge grimly. “And something else.”
“I see. Er—very good of you to let me in on it.” The reporter’s assurance was not so pronounced now. Without being asked he sat down in a chair as if his legs had suddenly gone weak. The three others eyed him in silence.
Again the constable put his head round the door. “Sir Wilfrid Denny, to see Mr. Rudge by appointment.”
“Show him in, Gravestock,” said Rudge. To his superiors he said briefly, as he rose from his chair: “I asked Sir Wilfrid to be good enough to come down here himself, so that we could ask him about—certain things.”
The others nodded.
Rudge went to the door to meet Sir Wilfrid. Sir Wilfrid, however, was already in the doorway as Rudge reached it. Rudge was a large man, Sir Wilfrid a small one. It was Sir Wilfrid who sprawled on the floor. With every sign of embarrassment, and apologising heartily, Rudge helped him up and brushed him down.
“I’m sorry, sir. Most sorry. Very careless of me. Do you know Major Twyfitt? And Superintendent Hawkesworth? I’m so sorry to have brought you down here, sir, but there were just one or two questions we wanted to ask you, to clear up a doubtful point. It’s about a sprig of valerian that was found wedged between two of the boards of Admiral Penistone’s boat. Now, I’ve searched up and down the river, and the only clump of valerian growing close to the water is in your garden. We were wondering if you could account for the sprig in any way?”
Sir Wilfrid thrust his hands into his jacket pockets and stared at Rudge with perplexity. “No, I can’t.”
“Nor for this knife, found in the same clump of valerian, with traces of blood on it?”
Sir Wilfrid looked at Major Twyfitt, he looked at Superintendent Hawkesworth, he looked at Walter Fitzgerald. Then he coughed. “I never saw it before,” he said.
“Thank you, sir. That’s all I had to ask you. And now I have a very painful duty to perform.”
Rudge paused, and looked hard at Sir Wilfrid. Sir Wilfrid coughed again, more rackingly.
“Sir Wilfrid Denny,” said Rudge, “I arrest you for the murders of Hugh Lawrence Penistone and Celia Mount, and I warn you that anything you say may be used in evidence against you.”
10
“Hardly, I think,” replied Sir Wilfrid, dryly. “Well, I congratulate you, Inspector. How did you find out?” He sat, with an air of jauntiness, on the edge of the table.
“Look here, Denny,” interposed Major Twyfitt awkwardly, as he and Superintendent Hawkesworth emerged slowly from the stupor into which they seemed to have fallen. “Look here, I don’t know whether … I mean, better not say anything. Your solicitor …”
“I know perfectly well what I’m doing,” returned Sir Wilfrid. “He gave me away, I suppose?” He nodded towards Fitzgerald, who had not moved from his chair.
“Am I to understand that you wish to make a statement, Sir Wilfrid?” put in Rudge suavely, though there seemed little ground for such an understanding.
“Yes, I’ll make a statement, certainly. I killed both of them, I’ll tell you that at once. I don’t know whether it’s any good adding it, but I didn’t mean to kill the Admiral; at least, I suppose I did, but it was in self-defence. He went for me with a poker.”
At the table the Superintendent had grabbed a piece of paper and was writing furiously.
“Then why did you kill Mrs. Mount, when you thought she was going to give you away?” asked Rudge.
“Really, Rudge,” said the Chief Constable unhappily. “I don’t think we should ask … Sir Wilfrid really should see his solicitor.”
“Oh, I’ll answer any questions. Why did I kill her? Because I didn’t want to be arrested, of course. How could I have proved self-defence? When the circumstances came out, it would look as if I had every motive for murder.”
“You mean your share in the Hong Kong business?”
“I see you know all about it. Yes. But I’m sorry about Mrs. Mount. I—I suppose I lost my head. Gave way to panic. Horrible thing to do—I suppose,” he added in a