The Sittaford Mystery - Agatha Christie [25]
‘I don’t know if you want to hear what exactly occurred—at Exhampton,’ he began.
She frowned.
‘Must I hear it? My brother was killed—painlessly, I hope.’
‘Quite painlessly, I should say.’
‘Then please spare me any revolting details.’
‘Unnatural,’ thought the Inspector, ‘decidedly unnatural.’
As though she had read his mind she used the word that he had spoken to himself.
‘I suppose you think that very unnatural, Inspector, but—I have heard a good many horrors. My husband has told me things when he has had one of his bad turns—’ she shivered. ‘I think you would understand if you knew my circumstances better.’
‘Oh! quite so, quite so, Mrs Gardner. What I really came for was to get a few family details from you.’
‘Yes?’
‘Do you know how many relatives living your brother has besides yourself?’
‘Of near relations, only the Pearsons. My sister Mary’s children.’
‘And they are?’
‘James, Sylvia and Brian.’
‘James?’
‘He is the eldest. He works in an Insurance Office.’
‘What age is he?’
‘Twenty-eight.’
‘Is he married?’
‘No, but he is engaged—to a very nice girl, I believe. I’ve not yet met her.’
‘And his address?’
‘21 Cromwell Street, S.W.3.’
The Inspector noted it down.
‘Yes, Mrs Gardner?’
‘Then there’s Sylvia. She’s married to Martin Dering—you may have read his books. He’s a moderately successful author.’
‘Thank you, and their address?’
‘The Nook, Surrey Road, Wimbledon.’
‘Yes?’
‘And the youngest is Brian—but he is out in Australia. I am afraid I don’t know his address, but either his brother or sister would know.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Gardner. Just a matter of form, do you mind my asking you how you spent yesterday afternoon?’
She looked surprised.
‘Let me see. I did some shopping—yes—then I went to the Pictures. I came home about six and lay down on my bed until dinner, as the Pictures had given me rather a headache.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Gardner.’
‘Is there anything else?’
‘No, I don’t think I have anything further to ask you. I will now get into communication with your nephew and niece. I don’t know if Mr Kirkwood has informed you of the fact yet, but you and the three young Pearsons are the joint inheritors of Captain Trevelyan’s money.’
The colour came into her face in a slow, rich blush.
‘That will be wonderful,’ she said quietly. ‘It has been so difficult—so terribly difficult—always skimping and saving and wishing.’
She started up as a man’s rather querulous voice came floating down the stairs.
‘Jennifer, Jennifer, I want you.’
‘Excuse me,’ she said.
As she opened the door the call came again, louder and more imperiously.
‘Jennifer, where are you? I want you, Jennifer.’
The Inspector had followed her to the door. He stood in the hall looking after her as she ran up the stairs.
‘I am coming, dear,’ she called.
A hospital nurse who was coming down the stairs stood aside to let her pass up.
‘Please go to Mr Gardner, he is getting very excited. You always manage to calm him.’
Inspector Narracott stood deliberately in the nurse’s way as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
‘May I speak to you for a moment?’ he said. ‘My conversation with Mrs Gardner was interrupted.’
The nurse came with alacrity into the drawing-room.
‘The news of the murder has upset my patient,’ she explained, adjusting a well-starched cuff. ‘That foolish girl, Beatrice, came running up and blurted it all out.’
‘I am sorry,’ said the Inspector. ‘I am afraid that was my fault.’
‘Oh, of course, you couldn’t be expected to know,’ said the nurse graciously.
‘Is Mr Gardner dangerously ill?’ inquired the Inspector.
‘It’s a sad case,’ said the nurse. ‘Of course, in a manner of speaking, there’s nothing the matter with him really. He’s lost the use of his limbs entirely through nervous shock. There’s no visible disability.’
‘He had no