The Floating Admiral - Agatha Christie [56]
“That would be—about a quarter past twelve, you say?”
“I didn’t notice the time exactly. But I had started from the Lord Marshall soon after eleven, which is closing-time. I walked slowly after I had got out of Whynmouth, so I can’t have been here till twelve or so; that’s how I worked it out.”
“Yes, I see. Now, was it your impression that Admiral Penistone was just meaning to turn in when you came? Was he in his dressing-gown, for example? Was he smoking, or drinking a whisky and soda or anything? You see what I mean, sir—I want to find out if he went outside after you had left, and if so, why.”
“Well, I can’t help you much there. He had a pipe in his mouth part of the time, to be sure. The only thing which made me feel he had not thought of bed-time yet was the litter on that desk; papers lying there, you know, taken out of their pigeon-holes. The Admiral wasn’t the kind of man to go to bed without putting his papers to bed first.”
“Ah, that’s very interesting. And you haven’t any idea, I suppose, what papers?”
“Not the least, I’m afraid. I dare say in your job you sometimes have to look over a man’s shoulder to see what he is reading, but we have a stricter code in the jute trade.”
Rudge felt the offensiveness of the reflection, but he achieved a passable smile. “You didn’t stay long, then? Just thanked him, maybe, and said you’d be getting back to Whynmouth?”
“Hardly more than that. He let me out at the french window again, and I went back to the Lord Marshall in that frame of mind in which a man finds himself, my dear Inspector, when he realises that the greatest dream of his life has come true. That is to say, walking on air, and not noticing much that went on round me.”
“Not even how you unlocked the front door of the hotel?”
“Why, I am afraid I had taken my precautions about that. I knew that Boots is fond of going to bed as early as he can, and does not like to have his sleep disturbed. So I was careful to leave the back-yard door on the latch—you will find that it has no bolts on it—and Mrs. Davis, I am afraid, was none the wiser. I thought best not; she talks.”
“You’re right there, sir. All the same, I wish you had been a little less quiet in your comings and goings; they’ll put you through it properly at the inquest. But, of course, you’d leave your boots outside the door, so we’ll have evidence that you were in before the front door was opened?”
“My dear Inspector, you think of everything. You want me to say that I was wearing, at a quarter-past eleven on the way to Rundel Croft, the same pair of boots which were outside my door at half-past. Believe me, your technique is improving. But the sad truth is that when I got up and followed my phantom Admiral, I put on another pair—suède shoes, which one does not have cleaned, if one is wise, at the Lord Marshall.”
“Ah, that explains it. I suppose you did not by any chance bring a copy of the Evening Gazette with you to Rundel Croft?”
“I never read it. Its politics nauseate me.”
Rudge held his note-book at arm’s length, as if studying an artistic effect.
“Well, that gives a clear account of your movements, Mr. Holland. Now, there are one or two questions I would like to ask; but, as they don’t bear directly on what happened last night, I shan’t be surprised if you won’t tell me. The first is just this: Why was it that Admiral Penistone at first didn’t want to see you marry his niece, and then changed his mind?”
“I think you must be very busy looking for mysteries if you make a mystery out of that. If you come to think of it, I have only known the family a matter of three or four weeks. I first met my wife, since you are kind enough to be so interested in our private affairs, at Sir Wilfrid Denny’s, just after she came here; and it was love at first sight with both of us. The Admiral—well, he was a man of circumspection, and he wanted to see more of me, I suppose. When his niece wrote telling me to come down to Whynmouth again, because she had good news for me, I only just dared to hope it was this.