The Floating Admiral - Agatha Christie [12]
“Twenty past ten.”
“And then?”
“I locked the house up and went to bed.”
“And you heard nothing more of your neighbour?”
“Nothing,” said the Vicar. “Nothing at all,” he repeated more loudly.
“What about your sons? Or your servants? Would they have heard anything?”
“I don’t think so. They had all gone to bed when I came in.”
“Thank you. Now, Mr. Mount, can you tell me this? Did Admiral Penistone seem in his usual spirits during the evening?”
The question appeared to distress the Vicar. “I—I don’t think I can really answer that,” he said. “You see, I haven’t known the Admiral at all long. He has only recently come to the neighbourhood. … I really hardly know him.”
“But still,” Rudge persisted, “you might have noticed if he seemed distressed, or worried in any way. Did he?” And, seeing the Vicar still hesitated, he pressed his point. “If you did notice anything, Mr. Mount, I really think you should tell me. It’s of the highest importance that we should find out everything we can about the poor gentleman’s state of mind at the time—and I assure you I know how to be discreet.”
“Well,” said the Vicar, fidgeting a little. “Well … it’s nothing, probably. But I should say—yes—that the Admiral was perhaps a little worried. He was not as—as amiable as usual. And he was generally a very pleasant man—not at all snappish.”
“He was snappish with Miss Fitzgerald, perhaps?” the Inspector suggested quickly; and the Vicar blinked.
“Oh, no … hardly … I shouldn’t say that at all.”
“But he acted as though there was something on his mind. … I suppose you’ve no idea what it was?”
“I think—I don’t know—it may have been his niece’s marriage. He said something about it. Nothing much.”
“Oh, she’s getting married, is she? Who to?”
“Somebody called Holland, Arthur Holland. From London, I think. I don’t know him.”
“And Admiral Penistone didn’t approve?”
“I don’t mean that. I mean, I don’t know. He didn’t say. Only he seemed as though something might have gone a little wrong. Perhaps it was to do with her settlements; she has a good deal of money, as I understand, and the Admiral is—was her trustee. But I really don’t know anything about it.”
“I see. Had you, yourself, known Admiral Penistone long?”
“Only since he came here, about a month ago. I called on him, you know; and we got acquainted.”
“And you saw each other fairly often?”
“Oh, two or three times in the week, perhaps. Not more.”
“Ever hear him speak of any enemies—anyone who’d have a reason for killing him?”
“Oh, no, no!” The Vicar looked shocked, but hastened to add, “Of course, I really know nothing of his life before he came here.”
“Had he many friends? In the neighbourhood? Or outside? Where did he live before?”
“Somewhere in the West, I believe. I don’t remember his ever telling me the district. I don’t think he knew many people about here well. Sir Wilfrid Denny, over at West End, saw most of him, I fancy. I believe he had old friends down to meet him, sometimes.”
“Ever meet any of them yourself?”
“Oh, no,” said the Vicar.
“I see. Well, I think I’d better be getting over to his place now,” the Inspector said. “I’m very much obliged to you, Mr. Mount. I’ll want to have a word with your sons and your servants some time, just in case any of them noticed anything that might help us. But that can wait. By the way,” he turned at the door to add, “can you tell me what sort of a young lady Miss Fitzgerald is? Liable to—to be very upset, I mean?”
The Vicar smiled a little, almost in spite of himself. “I shouldn’t think so,” he said. “I don’t think Miss Fitzgerald is at all the fainting type.”
“Very devoted to her uncle, eh?”
“I couldn’t say, particularly. About as much as most nieces are to their uncles, I imagine. Perhaps she is rather a reserved young woman—has interests of her own. But this is just gossip—you can see for yourself what you think, Inspector.”
“That’s true enough. Well, I’ll be going,” the Inspector said, and noted the expression of relief which overspread the Vicar’s face. “I know we aren’t popular visitors,