The Labors of Hercules - Agatha Christie [59]
“She doesn’t know.”
“What doesn’t she know?”
Unwillingly, jerkily, angrily, Frobisher spoke:
“Oh well, if you must have it . . . Chandler heard a noise that night. Thought it might be someone got in the house. Went out to investigate. Light in the boy’s room. Chandler went in. Hugh asleep on bed—dead asleep—in his clothes. Blood on the clothes. Basin in the room full of blood. His father couldn’t wake him. Next morning heard about sheep being found with their throats cut. Questioned Hugh. Boy didn’t know anything about it. Didn’t remember going out—and his shoes found by the side door caked in mud. Couldn’t explain the blood in the basin. Couldn’t explain anything. Poor devil didn’t know, you understand.
“Charles came to me, talked it over. What was the best thing to be done? Then it happened again—three nights later. After that—well, you can see for yourself. The boy had got to leave the service. If he was here, under Charles’ eye, Charles could watch over him. Couldn’t afford to have a scandal in the Navy. Yes, it was the only thing to be done.”
Poirot asked: “And since then?”
Frobisher said fiercely, “I’m not answering any more questions. Don’t you think Hugh knows his own business best?”
Hercule Poirot did not answer. He was always loath to admit that anyone could know better than Hercule Poirot.
III
As they came into the hall, they met Admiral Chandler coming in. He stood for a moment, a dark figure silhouetted against the bright light outside.
He said in a low, gruff voice:
“Oh there you both are. M. Poirot, I would like a word with you. Come into my study.”
Frobisher went out through the open door, and Poirot followed the Admiral. He had rather the feeling of having been summoned to the quarterdeck to give an account of himself.
The Admiral motioned Poirot to take one of the big easy chairs and himself sat down in the other. Poirot, whilst with Frobisher, had been impressed by the other’s restlessness, nervousness and irritability—all the signs of intense mental strain. With Admiral Chandler he felt a sense of hopelessness, of quiet, deep despair. . . .
With a deep sigh, Chandler said: “I can’t help being sorry Diana has brought you into this . . . Poor child, I know how hard it is for her. But—well—it is our own private tragedy, and I think you will understand, M. Poirot, that we don’t want outsiders.”
“I can understand your feeling, certainly.”
“Diana, poor child, can’t believe it . . . I couldn’t at first. Probably wouldn’t believe it now if I didn’t know—”
He paused.
“Know what?”
“That it’s in the blood. The taint, I mean.”
“And yet you agreed to the engagement?”
Admiral Chandler flushed.
“You mean, I should have put my foot down then? But at the time I’d no idea. Hugh takes after his mother—nothing about him to remind you of the Chandlers. I hoped he’d taken after her in every way. From his childhood upwards, there’s never been a trace of abnormality about him until now. I couldn’t know that—dash it all, there’s a trace of insanity in nearly every old family!”
Poirot said softly: “You have not consulted a doctor?”
Chandler roared: “No, and I’m not going to! The boy’s safe enough here with me to look after him. They shan’t shut him up between four walls like a wild beast. . . .”
“He is safe here, you say. But are others safe?”
“What do you mean by that?”
Poirot did not reply. He looked steadily into Admiral Chandler’s sad, dark eyes.
The Admiral said bitterly:
“Each man to his trade. You’re looking for a criminal! My boy’s not a criminal, M. Poirot.”
“Not yet.”
“What do you mean by ‘not yet?’ ”
“These things increase . . . Those sheep—”
“Who told you about the sheep?”
“Diana Maberly. And also your friend Colonel Frobisher.”
“George would have done better to keep his mouth shut.”
“He is a very old friend of yours is he not?”
“My best friend,” the Admiral said gruffly.
“And he was a friend of—your wife’s too?”
Chandler smiled.
“Yes. George was in love with Caroline, I believe. When she was very young. He’s never married. I believe that’s the reason. Ah well, I was the lucky