The Floating Admiral - Agatha Christie [87]
“At the Ferrers Abbas flower-show. The maids are there still, and my boys. The house was quite empty.”
“Why did Mrs. Mount make this appointment?”
“She did not say, in so many words.”
“But you gathered, sir?”
“I think,” said the Vicar, a little uneasily, “that she had come to some decision regarding certain information she considered she had concerning Admiral Penistone’s death.”
“And that information is known to you?”
A look of obstinacy which Rudge in his exasperation characterised privately as mulish, spread over the Vicar’s face. “I told you just now, Inspector, that on some points my lips are sealed. That is one of them.”
Again the two looked at each other.
But this time an interruption came from without. Once more footsteps sounded on the gravel drive, to be followed this time by the jangling in the back regions of an old-fashioned bell.
The Vicar went out into the hall, and Rudge followed him.
Standing in the open front door was a small, elderly man, whose not very spick-and-span suit was set off by a smart grey trilby hat set at a jaunty angle. “Ah, Mount,” he said. “Sorry I’m so infernally late. Is the conference over?”
“Conference?” repeated the Vicar stupidly.
“Yes. Seven o’clock I was told to be here. I couldn’t quite make out what it was about on the telephone, but the—the lady sounded pretty urgent.”
“She—rang you up?”
“Yes.” The new-comer looked more than a little embarrassed. “Sounded like a cock-and-bull story to me. Well, she said she was your wife.”
“She was,” said the Vicar sombrely. He turned to Rudge. “Inspector, I don’t think you know Sir Wilfrid Denny, do you?”
“By sight well enough, sir. I’m glad to see you’ve come back, Sir Wilfrid. I’ve been hoping to have a word with you.”
“About this terrible business at Rundel Croft? Yes, of course. I got back this afternoon. It never occurred to me that you’d want to see me, or I’d have come back sooner. I had to go to Paris.”
“Denny …”
The Vicar was obviously going to break the news of the latest tragedy, and, not wishing to intrude on the scene, Rudge turned away. Out of curiosity he opened the door of the lavatory where the sick reporter had been parked, and glanced inside. It was empty. Evidently he had recovered.
Before returning to the study to mount guard over the body and telephone to the Super and Dr. Grice, Rudge indulged his curiosity once more. He took a couple of steps outside the front door and glanced across the lawn. The result gratified him. In the hammock sat Mr. and Mrs. Holland, side by side; Mr. Holland’s arm was about his wife, and Mrs. Holland’s head was on her husband’s shoulder. Even as Rudge glanced at them she raised it and spontaneously kissed him.
“So she is human after all,” said Rudge to himself as he hurriedly turned away. “And now she’s found out that she loved him all the time. Well, they say it takes a shock to make some of ’em realise it.”
3
Rudge had handed over to Superintendent Hawkesworth.
Major Twyfitt, the Chief Constable, had motored back home, but luckily he had not taken back Hawkesworth to the county town with him. Together the two, as soon as Dr. Grice had arrived, had searched the house, but nothing had been discovered to throw any further light on the death. The Superintendent was now making arrangements for the removal of the body, and Rudge found himself at liberty for a few words with Mr. and Mrs. Holland.
Mrs. Holland was still in the hammock. That she had received a severe shock was obvious, but already she was showing such signs of recovery that Rudge, who wished to put his questions while impressions were still strong, thought himself justified in over-riding Holland’s objections to an immediate interview. He dropped, with a carefully unofficial air, on the grass beside the pair.
“It’s unfortunate, sir, I agree. But you’ll understand that I must do my duty. Now would you be good enough to tell me first of all what you know about this appointment? When did Mrs. Mount make it, and what reason did she give?”
Rudge had addressed his question to Elma, but it was Holland