The Man in the Brown Suit - Agatha Christie [39]
‘Who?’ I interpolated.
‘Chichester. Yes, it all fits in. Cable to Lord Nasby that you have found “The Man in the Brown Suit”, and your fortune’s made, Anne!’
‘There are several things you’ve overlooked.’
‘What things? Rayburn’s got a scar, I know–but a scar can be faked easily enough. He’s the right height and build. What’s the description of a head with which you pulverized them at Scotland Yard?’
I trembled. Suzanne was a well-educated, well-read woman, but I prayed that she might not be conversant with technical terms of anthropology.
‘Dolichocephalic,’ I said lightly.
Susanne looked doubtful.
‘Was that it?’
‘Yes. Long-headed, you know. A head whose width is less than 75 per cent of its length,’ I explained fluently.
There was a pause. I was just beginning to breathe freely when Suzanne said suddenly:
‘What’s the opposite?’
‘What do you mean–the opposite?’
‘Well, there must be an opposite. What do you call heads whose breadth is more than 75 per cent of their length?’
‘Brachycephalic,’ I murmured unwillingly.
‘That’s it. I thought that was what you said.’
‘Did I? It was a slip of the tongue. I meant dolichocephalic,’ I said with all the assurance I could muster.
Suzanne looked at me searchingly. Then she laughed.
‘You lie very well, gipsy girl. But it will save time and trouble now if you tell me all about it.’
‘There is nothing to tell,’ I said unwillingly.
‘Isn’t there?’ said Suzanne gently.
‘I suppose I shall have to tell you,’ I said slowly. ‘I’m not ashamed of it. You can’t be ashamed of something that just–happens to you. That’s what he did. He was detestable–rude and ungrateful–but that I think I understand. It’s like a dog that’s been chained up–or badly treated–it’ll bite anybody. That’s what he was like–bitter and snarling. I don’t know why I care–but I do. I care horribly. Just seeing him has turned my whole life upside-down. I love him. I want him. I’ll walk all over Africa barefoot till I find him, and I’ll make him care for me. I’d die for him. I’d work for him, slave for him, steal for him, even beg or borrow for him! There–now you know!’
Suzanne looked at me for a long time.
‘You’re very un-English, gipsy girl,’ she said at last. ‘There’s not a scrap of the sentimental about you. I’ve never met anyone who was at once so practical and so passionate. I shall never care for anyone like that–mercifully for me–and yet–and yet I envy you, gipsy girl. It’s something to be able to care. Most people can’t. But what a mercy for your little doctor man that you didn’t marry him. He doesn’t sound at all the sort of individual who would enjoy keeping high explosive in the house! So there’s to be no cabling to Lord Nasby?’
I shook my head.
‘And yet you believe him to be innocent?’
‘I also believe that innocent people can be hanged.’
‘H’m! yes. But, Anne dear, you can face facts, face them now. In spite of all you say, he may have murdered this woman.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘He didn’t.’
‘That’s sentiment.’
‘No, it isn’t. He might have killed her. He may even have followed her there with that idea in mind. But he wouldn’t take a bit of black cord and strangle her with it. If he’d done it, he would have strangled her with his bare hands.’
Suzanne gave a little shiver. Her eyes narrowed appreciatively.
‘H’m! Anne, I am beginning to see why you find this young man of yours so attractive!’
Chapter 16
I got an opportunity of tackling Colonel Race on the following morning. The auction of the sweep had just been concluded, and we walked up and down the deck together.
‘How’s the gipsy this morning? Longing for land and her caravan?’
I shook my head.
‘Now that the sea is behaving so nicely, I