The Pale Horse - Agatha Christie [36]
Lejeune softened the blow as much as possible.
“Not as much as we hoped, I am afraid.”
“Ah, I confess I am disappointed. Though, really, there is, I realise, no reason to suppose that a gentleman proceeding in the same direction as Father Gorman should necessarily be his murderer. That was really too much to hope for. And this Mr. Venables is well-to-do and much respected locally, I understand, moving in the best social circles.”
“The point is,” said Lejeune, “that it could not have been Mr. Venables that you saw on that particular evening.”
“Oh, but it was. I have absolutely no doubt in my own mind. I am never mistaken about a face.”
“I’m afraid you must have been this time,” said Lejeune gently. “You see, Mr. Venables is a victim of polio. For over three years he has been paralysed from the waist down, and is unable to use his legs.”
“Polio!” ejaculated Mr. Osborne. “Oh dear, dear… That does seem to settle the matter. And yet—You’ll excuse me, Inspector Lejeune. I hope you won’t take offence. But that really is so? I mean you have definite medical evidence as to that?”
“Yes, Mr. Osborne. We have. Mr. Venables is a patient of Sir William Dugdale of Harley Street, a most eminent member of the medical profession.”
“Of course, of course. F.R.C.P. A very well-known name! Oh dear, I seem to have fallen down badly. I was so very sure. And to trouble you for nothing.”
“You mustn’t take it like that,” said Lejeune quickly. “Your information is still very valuable. It is clear that the man you saw must bear a very close resemblance to Mr. Venables—and since Mr. Venables is a man of distinctly unusual appearance, that is extremely valuable knowledge to have. There cannot be many persons answering to that description.”
“True, true.” Mr. Osborne cheered up a little. “A man of the criminal classes resembling Mr. Venables in appearance. There certainly cannot be many such. In the files at Scotland Yard—”
He looked hopefully at the inspector.
“It may not be quite so simple as that,” said Lejeune slowly. “The man may not have a record. And in any case, as you said just now there is as yet no reason to assume that this particular man had anything to do with the attack on Father Gorman.”
Mr. Osborne looked depressed again.
“You must forgive me. Wishful thinking, I am afraid, on my part… I should so like to have been able to give evidence at a murder trial… And they would not have been able to shake me, I assure you of that. Oh no, I should have stuck to my guns!”
Lejeune was silent, considering his host thoughtfully. Mr. Osborne responded to the silent scrutiny.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Osborne, why would you have stuck to your guns, as you put it?”
Mr. Osborne looked astonished.
“Because I am so certain—oh—oh yes, I see what you mean. The man was not the man. So I have no business to feel certain. And yet I do—”
Lejeune leaned forward. “You may have wondered why I have come to see you today. Having received medical evidence that the man seen by you could not have been Mr. Venables, why am I here?”
“Quite. Quite. Well, then, Inspector Lejeune, why did you come?”
“I came,” said Lejeune, “because the very positiveness of your identification impressed me. I wanted to know on what grounds your certainty was based. It was a foggy night, remember. I have been to your shop. I have stood where you stood in your doorway and looked across the street. On a foggy night it seemed to me that a figure at that distance would be very insubstantial, that it would be almost impossible to distinguish features clearly.”
“Up to a point, of course, you are quite right. Fog was setting in. But it came, if you understand me, in patches. It cleared for a short space every now and then. It did so at the moment that I saw Father Gorman walking fast along the opposite pavement. That is why I saw him and the man who followed shortly after him so clearly. Moreover, just when the second man was abreast of me, he flicked on a lighter to relight his cigarette. His profile at that moment was very clear—the nose, the chin, the pronounced