The Floating Admiral - Agatha Christie [68]
30. Why did Elma Fitzgerald hurry up to London? The conclusion seemed inevitable that her flight was consequent upon the news of the murder. She was not fond of early rising, and her early rising that morning had been Rudge’s own fault. The Whynmouth line assumes, like most railways, that you do not want to travel up to the metropolis much after ten o’clock; after that hour, the speed of the trains sagged noticeably, and day tickets were no longer available. Consequently, if you were going up to London you prepared for an early start. Elma had made an early start, but she had not prepared for it. She had not fled to meet Holland; for she knew, unless his overnight message had remained undelivered, that he was in Whynmouth. She had not been to see Mr. Dakers—though, of course, Holland’s pursuit might have interrupted that plan. Better wait to hear what she will say to-morrow.
31. Why did Holland ditto? This was plainer sailing. Innocent or guilty, and whether he believed her to be innocent or guilty, he would naturally want to see Elma and to discuss the situation. But, assuming that Holland was himself innocent, it looked as if he must have believed Elma guilty. Otherwise, he might at least have waited to tell a true story to the police.
32. Why did Sir Wilfrid ditto? It was to be observed that Sir Wilfrid, if his movements had been correctly reported, was in the van of the movement. He had gone up to London “by the first train,” and that ran, when was it? Soon after seven … anyhow, long before Elma was out of bed. Not before the body was discovered, but surely before the rumour of its discovery was likely to have reached him. Either, then, the “call” which summoned him had been accompanied by news of the tragedy—and that meant Neddy Ware or the Vicar or Rundel Croft as its source; or else he went up to London ignorant that the murder had been committed … or at least ignorant that it had been discovered. Well, well, it might be an accident after all; at least he must hear what the man had to say. But what a curious influence Penistone must have had, that his death seemed to scatter his acquaintances in alarm, instead of rallying them in sympathy!
33. Why did the Vicar ditto? Once again, mere coincidence was possible; Mount might, quite possibly, have gone up to chat to an archdeacon about dilapidations. But it seemed more natural to connect his behaviour, too, with the general upset. Now, what precise development in the story had led to the Vicar’s Hegira? The corpse had been discovered, and he remained calm—comparatively calm. The disappearance of Elma and Holland left him still unmoved. What new factor could have arisen in the situation? It looked very much as if the Vicar had made some discovery on his own, a discovery which he had not seen fit to communicate.
34. Was the Vicar telling all he knew? Curious how people differed under cross-examination. Elma Fitzgerald had a natural pose of hostility; she so obviously resented being asked any questions about anything, that it was difficult to know whether she was embarrassed at being asked these questions about this. Holland’s contemptuous joviality was no doubt a permanent mood with him; it made him a difficult subject for interrogation, because you never knew quite what allowances to make for his fun. But Mr. Mount, now, he was evidently a man anxious, as a matter of conscience, to tell the truth. But there was a hesitation in his manner which seemed to suggest that he was not quite sure which part of the truth to tell; not quite sure how he ought to answer one question, for fear the next should trench on ground where he was determined not to tread. He was scrupulous about telling the truth; and the scrupulous in this world are apt to be more of a nuisance than the unscrupulous.
35. Why did the Vicar water his garden? It might, of course, be nothing more than a horticultural gaffe. But, if you were prepared to make a long shot, and suppose that the Vicar came into it somehow,