The Floating Admiral - Agatha Christie [70]
And so, having got his ideas down on paper, Rudge went off to bed, comforting himself with the old, superstitious hope we all have sometimes, that he would wake up with an inspiration. But the night did not bring counsel. He did, indeed, dream that he saw the actual crime being committed. But as, in his dream, the author of the murder was Mrs. Davis, the victim Mr. Dakers, the weapon a rolled-up newspaper, and the scene of the whole incident the Charing Cross Hotel, he wisely concluded that oneiromancy has its fallible moments.
CHAPTER IX
By Freeman Wills Crofts
THE VISITOR IN THE NIGHT
INSPECTOR RUDGE woke next morning with a vaguely troubled mind. He had a subconscious impression that this was no ordinary day and that important duties were awaiting him. Then he remembered. His big chance had come! He sprang out of bed.
During breakfast he laid his plans for the day. First there was a conference with his chiefs. Superintendent Hawkesworth had been on leave when the murder took place, and though Rudge had wired for him directly he had heard of it, he was not expected back till early that morning. The Chief Constable, Major Twyfitt, had also been away, but he had returned last evening, and he also would want to hear the news. Then there was the interview with the coroner about the inquest, after which Rudge supposed he would be at liberty to take up one or more of the lines of investigation he had thought out on the previous evening.
He was a good deal worried that he had not yet been able to arrange for an adequate identification of the remains. Rudge did not himself doubt that the dead man was the Admiral, but this had not been proved, and it was his job to prove it. This question of identity would be the first to be raised by the Super, and it would probably be the only one in which at this stage the coroner would be interested.
Rudge walked round to the Lord Marshall on the chance that Dakers might be about. Dakers should be his man for the identification. By a chance which Rudge took as a good omen for the day, it happened that as he entered the porch he met Dakers coming out.
“Good morning, sir,” Rudge said genially. “This is a bit of luck for me. I was just wondering if I could see you.”
Dakers was polite, but not genial. He showed no enthusiasm for the meeting. “What is it?” he asked shortly.
“The identification of the remains, sir. May I ask how long you knew the Admiral?”
“How long?” the solicitor repeated slowly. “Let’s see. Twenty-one—two—about twenty-two years; possibly twenty-three.”
“Good enough, sir. And during that period you’ve seen him, I presume, at intervals?”
“Yes, at irregular intervals, I have.”
“Then, sir, I should be obliged if when convenient you would run out with me to Lingham, where the body is lying, and see if you can formally identify it.”
“I should like to have my breakfast first.”
“I said, sir, when convenient. Would ten o’clock suit?”
Dakers agreed and Rudge went on: “There’s another thing I’d like to ask you about while I have the opportunity, and that is the late Admiral’s consent to his niece’s wedding. Do you happen to have it in your possession?”
“You mean the typewritten statement?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dakers considered. “How do you come to be interested in that?” he asked.
“In the same way, sir, that I expect you’re interested in it,” Rudge returned promptly. “We both, I take it, want to be sure that it was really given by the Admiral.”
“You mean,” said Dakers frigidly, “that Mrs. Holland is either a liar or a forger or both?”
“No, sir,” Rudge answered imperturbably. “Mrs. Holland didn’t say she got it from the Admiral. Mr. Holland said that. My question is really in Mrs. Holland’s own interest. I take