The Floating Admiral - Agatha Christie [26]
At this moment, as though in answer to Inspector Rudge’s inward prayer, an agitated-looking cook appeared from the back regions and muttered something in Mrs. Davis’s ear. “Why, there now! if it hadn’t altogether slipped my memory,” she exclaimed. “I’ve been so interested hearing you talk, Inspector, that I’ve never ordered the joint for lunch. You’ll excuse me if I run off and see to it, won’t you, Mr. Rudge?”
The Inspector waited till Mrs. Davis had disappeared, then, when he was satisfied that she was out of hearing, rang a bell marked “Porter.” In a few minutes a bald-headed individual hustled into the entrance hall, still struggling with the short jacket which he had hastily thrust on over his rolled-up shirt sleeves. From his appearance he seemed to have been interrupted in the act of stoking the central heating system. He looked at Inspector Rudge enquiringly. “Yessir,” he remarked.
“I’m Inspector Rudge, and I came here to make certain enquiries. You knew Admiral Penistone, I believe?”
The man scratched his head. “Well, sir, I can’t rightly say as I knew him,” he replied. “I’ve only seen him once in my life, and that was last night. Came in here, he did, and asked for Mr. Holland.”
The Inspector nodded. “So I believe. Now, I’m particularly anxious to know how he was looking then. Did he seem worried, or anxious, or anything like that?”
“I couldn’t very well say, sir. You see, it was gone eleven, and I was just going to shut up the house. Mrs. Davis is always telling me to be careful of the gas, and there was only one light burning. The Admiral came just inside the door, and stood where you might be standing now, sir. ‘Is Mr. Holland in?’ he asks, sharp like. And almost before I had time to say he was in bed, he said that it didn’t matter and that he couldn’t wait, as he had a train to catch. He wasn’t here no more than a few seconds, sir. He seemed in a hurry, but I couldn’t properly see his face. I wouldn’t have known who it was if he hadn’t told me.”
Again the Inspector nodded. “You’d recognise him again if you saw him, I suppose?” he asked.
“Well, sir, I might and I mightn’t. I never got a proper sight of him, as you might say.”
“Oh, well, it doesn’t matter,” said the Inspector carelessly. “Was Mr. Holland in when Admiral Penistone called?”
“I’m pretty sure he was, sir, leastways, his boots was outside his door. I saw them when I went up to bed soon after. And he didn’t come in later, I know that for a fact.”
“How can you be sure of that?”
“Why, sir, because I locked the door as I always do round about half-past eleven. If anybody wants to get in after that, they presses the bell, which rings in my room, and I comes down and lets them in. And the bell didn’t ring last night, sir.”
“I see. And when is the door opened again?”
“I unbolts it first thing, when I comes down in the morning, sir, round about six, that is.”
“What do you do after you unlock the door?”
“Why, sir, I lights the kitchen fire and puts on the kettle for a cup of tea.”
“Did you happen to see Mr. Holland this morning?”
“I was in the hall when he went out after breakfast, sir. About nine o’clock that would have been. And he hasn’t come back since, at least not that I know of.”
The sound of Mrs. Davis’s voice, rapidly growing in intensity as she returned from the back regions, caused Rudge to beat a hasty retreat. He slipped out of the hotel, and began to walk towards the police station, reviewing the scraps of information which he had picked up at the Lord Marshall, and congratulating