The Floating Admiral - Agatha Christie [59]
1. Why did Penistone come to Lingham, and why did Sir Wilfrid mind? Altogether, there was too much of the China Station about this business. On the face of it, there was nothing particularly improbable in the fact that two men well acquainted with China should be living at such close range. But Mrs. Davis, representing the local gossip, had seen some significance in it; and, quite unexpectedly, she had volunteered the information that Sir Wilfrid did not seem over-pleased at the neighbourhood. Was it conceivable that there had been a connection between them in the past? A guilty connection? If so, on which side did the guilt lie? On Sir Wilfrid’s surely. Rudge’s mind, do what he would, was apt to travel in official grooves; and the notion of blackmail forced itself on him. The more so, because Sir Wilfrid appeared to be in straitened circumstances. Mem.—Apply to the bank in the hope of getting the Admiral’s passbook; hardly possible to have the handling of Sir Wilfrid’s.
2. Why did Jennie think that Penistone and Elma seemed more like husband and wife than uncle and niece? Probably mere gossip. Jennie had, after all, seen the couple but a short time; the fact that they managed the household—presumably—in financial partnership would give them, to the girl’s mind, the air of equals. Once again Rudge’s fancy toyed with the idea of an impersonation; yet it seemed quite impossible that any such impersonation should long persist; Dakers would see through it if nobody else did.
3. Why was Elma so familiar with the French maid? And why did the French maid leave so suddenly? The two questions could be treated as one; if there was any significance in the former it would probably provide an explanation for the other. The allegation that Célie had found the place dull was surely a mere excuse; a Frenchwoman who had stood years of Cornish exile would necessarily take more than a week to grow tired of Lingham; Whynmouth, after all, boasted a picture-palace. It might, of course, be some romance or tragedy below stairs which happened to have come to a head at the moment. But it seemed more natural to assume that the move was the cause of the flight—yes, you might almost call it a flight, since there was money owing. Of course, if Célie were not a mere servant, it might be that money was no object to her. But why leave just after a move? Surely it would have been more plausible to give notice when the move took effect. And that meant—that ought to mean that Célie, on coming to Lingham, had found something there which was unexpectedly disconcerting to her; or that circumstances arose at Lingham which would not have arisen in Cornwall. Too short a time for romance. Had Célie been in Lingham before? Mem.—Trace, if possible, Célie’s present whereabouts and past references.
4. Why, again on Jennie’s testimony, was so little love lost between Elma and Holland, on her side at any rate? Once more, it might be mere gossip. Who was it who was credited with a “miserably low standard of intoxication”? Perhaps Jennie had an unusually high standard of walking-out. Jennie peered at you; and a couple of shy lovers might have been at pains to disengage their hands at the warning of her heavy-footed entrance. But if there was anything to it, it suggested that the marriage, on one side at least, was a mariage de convenance. On which side? Hers, according to the evidence; and, to be sure, she had had an earlier disappointment; her youth was slipping from her. It might be, too, that she was anxious to deal with her capital, instead of having the interest doled out to her by trustees. But where was the need here? She lived simply; she dressed dowdily. Holland, of course, might be an adventurer; but, if so, he was a clever feigner of love.
5. What did Elma do with her money? This question arose naturally out of the last. How simple life would be for the police, if we all audited our accounts, like the public charities! Rundel Croft was not a house of pretensions; its grounds were negligible. Even if Elma paid