The Hollow - Agatha Christie [87]
‘Would you like my fingerprints, my friend?’
‘I don’t mind if I do! It strikes me, M. Poirot, that you were on the spot, and that taking it all round you’re far and away the most suspicious character in the case!’
Chapter 27
I
The coroner cleared his throat and looked expectantly at the foreman of the jury.
The latter looked down at the piece of paper he held in his hand. His Adam’s apple wagged up and down excitedly. He read out in a careful voice:
‘We find that the deceased came to his death by wilful murder by some person or persons unknown.’
Poirot nodded his head quietly in his corner by the wall. There could be no other possible verdict.
Outside the Angkatells stopped a moment to talk to Gerda and her sister. Gerda was wearing the same black clothes. Her face had the same dazed, unhappy expression. This time there was no Daimler. The train service, Elsie Patterson explained, was really very good. A fast train to Waterloo and they could easily catch the 1.20 to Bexhill.
Lady Angkatell, clasping Gerda’s hand, murmured:
‘You must keep in touch with us, my dear. A little lunch, perhaps, one day in London? I expect you come up to do shopping occasionally.’
‘I–I don’t know,’ said Gerda.
Elsie Patterson said:
‘We must hurry, dear, our train,’ and Gerda turned away with an expression of relief.
Midge said:
‘Poor Gerda. The only thing John’s death has done for her is to set her free from your terrifying hospitality, Lucy.’
‘How unkind you are, Midge. Nobody could say I didn’t try.’
‘You are much worse when you try, Lucy.’
‘Well, it’s very nice to think it’s all over, isn’t it?’ said Lady Angkatell, beaming at them. ‘Except, of course, for poor Inspector Grange. I do feel so sorry for him. Would it cheer him up, do you think, if we asked him back to lunch? As a friend, I mean.’
‘I should let well alone, Lucy,’ said Sir Henry.
‘Perhaps you are right,’ said Lady Angkatell meditatively. ‘And anyway it isn’t the right kind of lunch today. Partridges au Choux–and that delicious Soufflé Surprise that Mrs Medway makes so well. Not at all Inspector Grange’s kind of lunch. A really good steak, a little underdone, and a good old-fashioned apple tart with no nonsense about it–or perhaps apple dumplings–that’s what I should order for Inspector Grange.’
‘Your instincts about food are always very sound, Lucy. I think we had better get home to those partridges. They sound delicious.’
‘Well, I thought we ought to have some celebration. It’s wonderful, isn’t it, how everything always seems to turn out for the best?’
‘Ye-es.’
‘I know what you’re thinking, Henry, but don’t worry. I shall attend to it this afternoon.’
‘What are you up to now, Lucy?’
Lady Angkatell smiled at him.
‘It’s quite all right, darling. Just tucking in a loose end.’
Sir Henry looked at her doubtfully.
When they reached The Hollow, Gudgeon came out to open the door of the car.
‘Everything went off very satisfactorily, Gudgeon,’ said Lady Angkatell. ‘Please tell Mrs Medway and the others. I know how unpleasant it has been for you all, and I should like to tell you now how much Sir Henry and I have appreciated the loyalty you have all shown.’
‘We have been deeply concerned for you, my lady,’ said Gudgeon.
‘Very sweet of Gudgeon,’ said Lucy as she went into the drawing-room, ‘but really quite wasted. I have really almost enjoyed it all–so different, you know, from what one is accustomed to. Don’t you feel, David, that an experience like this has broadened your mind? It must be so different from Cambridge.’
‘I am at Oxford,’ said David coldly.
Lady Angkatell said vaguely: ‘The dear Boat Race. So English, don’t you think?’ and went towards the telephone.
She picked up the receiver and, holding it in her hand, she went on:
‘I do hope, David, that you will come and stay with us again. It