The Floating Admiral - Agatha Christie [40]
“Oh, yes; it is very important. If it would have waited a couple of days I should have tried to put it off, but I fear that is quite impossible.”
“I see, sir.” Rudge could not for the life of him see what clerical business could be so urgent as that, unless it was a summons from the Archbishop of Canterbury or an important conference, and if it were, why should not the Vicar say so? Mr. Mount’s face displayed, however, only the bland severity of one about to read the First Lesson.
“I take it that will be all right then, Inspector?”
“Oh, yes, sir. Provided, as you say, you keep in touch with us. And I’m very much obliged to you for letting me know of your intentions. It isn’t everybody would be so considerate.”
“We both have our duty to do,” replied the Vicar. “Besides,” he added, with a slight twinkle, “if I had gone off without letting you know, you might have imagined I was running away from you, and that would never do.”
Rudge laughed dutifully.
“There’s just one or two things I was going to ask you, sir,” he said, “and I’m glad to have this opportunity. About the late Admiral Penistone. Should you say he was a quick walker?”
“No,” said the Vicar. “Admiral Penistone never cared to walk much, owing to a wound he got in his foot during the War. A piece of shrapnel, I understand. He was not actually lame, but it tired him to walk very far or very fast. He always preferred to take the car or go by the river if possible.”
The Inspector nodded. This upset his recent calculations and left him where he was before. He went on to the next point.
“Do you sleep on the river side of the house, sir?”
“No. My sons and the servants sleep on that side, but my bedroom window is at the other side, overlooking the lane. Sometimes I get called up in the night to visit the sick or dying, and it is more convenient for them to be able to knock me up without disturbing the household. There is a side-door, you see, which opens on to the lane, with a bell which rings in my bedroom.”
“I see. Does your window command the high road?”
“Yes, in a sense. I mean, I can see the road, but it is, of course, a couple of hundred yards from the house.”
“Quite so. I suppose you did not happen to see a closed car pass along last night in the direction of Whynmouth?”
“That is rather a vague question. At what time do you mean?”
“At about a quarter to eleven. I thought perhaps you might have seen it when you were undressing.”
The Vicar shook his head.
“No,” he said at once, “I am afraid I cannot help you. I came straight upstairs at ten-twenty, undressed and went to bed. I do not think I looked out of the window at all. But in any case, at the time you mention, I should be either in the bathroom along the passage, or” (he twinkled again) “saying my prayers.”
“Just so,” said Rudge, embarrassed as every true Englishman is at the mention of private devotions. “Well, it was just a chance, sir, but a very slight one. I couldn’t really have expected you to notice. You’ll be good enough to ring me up when you get to town, sir?”
“I certainly will,” said the Vicar. “And thank you very much for your permission to elope. I promise you that I will not break my parole.”
“I’m quite sure of that, sir,” replied Rudge, with conviction, and took his leave.
He strolled slowly back through the Vicarage garden, his heavy boots squeaking loudly on the gravel in the hot hush of the August morning. Peter was still idling about the boat-house. Rudge looked at the post in the stream, with the end of rope still fastened to it by a couple of half-hitches. He wondered whether he had assumed too hastily that the body had been dumped into the Vicar’s boat from another boat. He ought at least to take the precaution of examining the bank for footprints.
Search, however, revealed nothing very helpful. The grass edge was crumpled and broken in places, as it would naturally be if the Vicar’s family were accustomed to board the boat from that point, but the grass itself was too short and