The Sittaford Mystery - Agatha Christie [23]
‘Well, it’s a wicked world, sir.’ Evans was a little confused, feeling that his exclamation had been wanting in tact. ‘I have heard there’s a lot of trickery concerned. The late Capting used to say that a prize never went to a good address. That’s why he used mine time and again.’
With a certain naïveté he described the Captain’s winning of three new novels.
Enderby encouraged him to talk. He saw a very good story being made out of Evans. The faithful servant—old sea dog touch. He wondered just a little why Mrs Evans seemed so nervous, he put it down to the suspicious ignorance of her class.
‘You find the skunk that done it,’ said Evans. ‘Newspapers can do a lot, they say, in hunting down criminals.’
‘It was a burglar,’ said Mrs Evans. ‘That’s what it was.’
‘Of course, it was a burglar,’ said Evans. ‘Why, there’s no one in Exhampton would want to harm the Capting.’
Enderby rose.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘I must be going. I will run in now and then and have a little chat if I may. If the Captain won three new novels in a Daily Wire Competition, the Daily Wire ought to make it a personal matter to hunt down his murderer.’
‘You can’t say fairer than that, sir. No, you can’t say fairer than that.’
Wishing them a cheery good day, Charles Enderby took his leave.
‘I wonder who really did the beggar in?’ he murmured to himself. ‘I don’t think our friend Evans. Perhaps it was a burglar! Very disappointing, if so. Doesn’t seem any woman in the case, which is a pity. We’ve got to have some sensational development soon or the case will fade into insignificance. Just my luck, if so. First time I have ever been on the spot in a matter of this kind. I must make good. Charles, my boy, your chance in life has come. Make the most of it. Our military friend will, I see, soon be eating out of my hand if I remember to be sufficiently respectful and call him “sir” often enough. Wonder if he was in the Indian Mutiny. No, of course not, not old enough for that. The South African War, that’s it. Ask him about the South African War, that will tame him.’
And pondering these resolutions in his mind Mr Enderby sauntered back to the Three Crowns.
Chapter 9
The Laurels
It takes about half an hour from Exhampton to Exeter by train. At five minutes to twelve Inspector Narracott was ringing the front door bell of The Laurels.
The Laurels was a somewhat dilapidated house, badly in need of a new coat of paint. The garden round it was unkempt and weedy and the gate hung askew on its hinges.
‘Not too much money about here,’ thought Inspector Narracott to himself. ‘Evidently hard up.’
He was a very fair-minded man, but inquiries seemed to indicate that there was very little possibility of the Captain’s having been done to death by an enemy. On the other hand, four people, as far as he could make out, stood to gain a considerable sum by the old man’s death. The movements of each of these four people had got to be inquired into. The entry in the hotel register was suggestive, but after all Pearson was quite a common name. Inspector Narracott was anxious not to come to any decision too rapidly and to keep a perfectly open mind whilst covering the preliminary ground as rapidly as possible.
A somewhat slatternly-looking maid answered the bell.
‘Good afternoon,’ said Inspector Narracott. ‘I want to see Mrs Gardner, please. It is in connection with the death of her brother, Captain Trevelyan, at Exhampton.’
He purposely did not hand his official card to the maid. The mere fact of his being a police officer, as he knew by experience, would render her awkward and tongue-tied.
‘She’s heard of her brother’s death?’ asked the Inspector casually as the maid drew back to let him into the hall.
‘Yes, got a telegram she did. From the lawyer, Mr Kirkwood.’
‘Just so,’ said Inspector Narracott.
The maid ushered him into the drawing-room—a room which, like the outside of the house, was badly in need of a little money spent upon it, but yet had, with all that, an air of charm which the Inspector felt without being able to particularize