The Floating Admiral - Agatha Christie [93]
Well, there was only one possibility. The Vicar had been sitting in his summer-house. He might have seen. Rudge had had a suspicion already that the Vicar had seen something from that summer-house. Well, the Vicar had got to be made to speak, that was all.
Falling at last on his gooseberry pie, Rudge swept the plate clean in half a dozen gargantuan mouthfuls, followed them with a couple of bites of bread and cheese, and ran down to the street and his car.
Mr. Mount was in, and had just finished his own lunch. He received the Inspector in his study.
Rudge came to the point at once. “Sorry to bother you again, sir, but we’ve information that Admiral Penistone left Rundel Croft in his boat, at about ten-fifteen. You were sitting in your summer-house at that time, overlooking the river. Did you see him leave?”
The Vicar answered at once. “Since you ask me the direct question, Inspector: yes, I did.”
“Thank you, sir. Is it any good my asking why you didn’t let me have this information sooner? Although I never actually asked you, you must have known it would be very valuable.”
“Certainly, I will tell you. It was because I feared that my knowledge might lead you to suspect an innocent man.”
“I see, sir. Then you know who murdered Admiral Penistone?”
“No,” the Vicar retorted, “I don’t. But I’m pretty sure who didn’t.”
“Well, we’ll leave that. Which way did the Admiral head, sir? Up-stream or down?”
“Down.”
“And Neddy Ware was rowing him?”
The Vicar looked first startled, and then distressed. “Inspector, if you suspect old Ware of—”
“I don’t, sir. Not of the murder.”
“I have your word?”
“You have, Mr. Mount.”
“Very well. Then I will admit to you that Ware was rowing the Admiral that night; and extremely surprised I was to see it. I had no idea they were even acquainted. But that is the reason why I said nothing of what I saw. We parsons have to rely a good deal on our estimate of people’s natures, you know, and I would stake everything I have on the fact that old Ware is totally incapable of anything of that kind. I’ve known him ever since he came to Lingham, you see, so I feared that this information of mine would put you on an entirely wrong scent. I therefore determined to volunteer nothing myself, but to use what influence I may have with Ware to induce him to come to you of his own accord and give you a full account of his own knowledge of that night’s happenings, whatever it may be. I may say I have quite failed.”
“He told you he wouldn’t come to us?”
“More than that. He denies that he was in the boat at all; he says that I was mistaken.”
“We have quite definite evidence that he was, sir; his finger-prints on the oars.”
“Yes, I was quite sure I was right.”
“Well, we must tackle Ware ourselves.”
“I doubt whether you’ll get much out of him.”
“We shall see, sir. In the meantime, are you sure there isn’t anything else you’d like to tell us yourself, sir, about that night—without necessarily incriminating anyone?”
“Nothing,” said the Vicar firmly.
6
Rudge left the Vicarage in some elation. Not only had his surmise been confirmed that Ware was rowing the boat, but definite evidence was at last forthcoming that it had headed down-stream. Curious that old Ware had been so insistent on that point too. Except for the single suggestion about the length of time needed for the journey, it seemed as if Ware had not been trying to deceive him at all—almost as if he had been attempting to put him on the right track. Was it possible that Neddy Ware’s guilty knowledge sat heavily upon him, that he thoroughly wanted the Admiral’s murderer