The Hollow - Agatha Christie [84]
Henrietta said slowly:
‘I remember now. I went along there quite late in the evening–after dinner.’
Poirot’s voice came sharply:
‘People do not “doodle” in the dark, Miss Savernake. Are you telling me that you went into the pavilion at night and stood by a table and drew a tree without being able to see what you were drawing?’
Henrietta said calmly: ‘I am telling you the truth. Naturally you don’t believe it. You have your own ideas. What is your idea, by the way?’
‘I am suggesting that you were in the pavilion on Sunday morning after twelve o’clock when Gudgeon brought the glasses out. That you stood by that table watching someone, or waiting for someone, and unconsciously took out a pencil and drew Ygdrasil without being fully aware of what you were doing.’
‘I was not in the pavilion on Sunday morning. I sat out on the terrace for a while, then I got the gardening basket and went up to the dahlia border and cut off heads and tied up some of the Michaelmas daisies that were untidy. Then just on one o’clock I went along to the pool. I’ve been through it all with Inspector Grange. I never came near the pool until one o’clock, just after John had been shot.’
‘That,’ said Hercule Poirot, ‘is your story. But Ygdrasil, Mademoiselle, testifies against you.’
‘I was in the pavilion and I shot John, that’s what you mean?’
‘You were there and you shot Dr Christow, or you were there and you saw who shot Dr Christow–or someone else was there who knew about Ygdrasil and deliberately drew it on the table to put suspicion on you.’
Henrietta got up. She turned on him with her chin lifted.
‘You still think that I shot John Christow. You think that you can prove I shot him. Well, I will tell you this. You will never prove it. Never !’
‘You think that you are cleverer than I am?’
‘You will never prove it,’ said Henrietta, and, turning, she walked away down the winding path that led to the swimming pool.
Chapter 26
Grange came in to Resthaven to drink a cup of tea with Hercule Poirot. The tea was exactly what he had had apprehensions it might be–extremely weak and China tea at that.
‘These foreigners,’ thought Grange, ‘don’t know how to make tea. You can’t teach ’em.’ But he did not mind much. He was in a condition of pessimism when one more thing that was unsatisfactory actually afforded him a kind of grim satisfaction.
He said: ‘The adjourned inquest’s the day after tomorrow and where have we got? Nowhere at all. What the hell, that gun must be somewhere! It’s this damned country–miles of woods. It would take an army to search them properly. Talk of a needle in a haystack. It may be anywhere. The fact is, we’ve got to face up to it–we may never find that gun.’
‘You will find it,’ said Poirot confidently.
‘Well, it won’t be for want of trying!’
‘You will find it, sooner or later. And I should say sooner. Another cup of tea?’
‘I don’t mind if I do–no, no hot water.’
‘Is it not too strong?’
‘Oh, no, it’s not too strong.’ The inspector was conscious of understatement.
Gloomily he sipped at the pale, straw-coloured beverage.
‘This case is making a monkey of me, M. Poirot–a monkey of me! I can’t get the hang of these people. They seem helpful–but everything they tell you seems to lead you away on a wild-goose chase.’
‘Away?’ said Poirot. A startled look came into his eyes. ‘Yes, I see. Away…’
The inspector was now developing his grievance.
‘Take the gun now. Christow was shot–according to the medical evidence–only a minute or two before your arrival. Lady Angkatell had that egg basket, Miss Savernake had a gardening basket full of dead flower heads, and Edward Angkatell was wearing a loose shooting-coat with large pockets stuffed with cartridges. Any one of them could have carried the revolver away with them. It wasn’t hidden anywhere near the pool–my men have raked the place, so that’s definitely out.’
Poirot nodded. Grange went on:
‘Gerda Christow was framed–but who by? That’s where every clue I follow seems