The Sittaford Mystery - Agatha Christie [33]
‘Bit odd, isn’t it?’ he finished. ‘I mean, it makes you think and all that. May be something in these things. First time I’ve really ever come across anything authentic.’
Emily gave a slight shiver. ‘I hate supernatural things,’ she said. ‘Just for once, as you say, it does look as though there was something in it. But how—how gruesome!’
‘This séance business never seems very practical, does it? If the old boy could get through and say he was dead, why couldn’t he say who murdered him? It ought to be all so simple.’
‘I feel there may be a clue in Sittaford,’ said Emily thoughtfully.
‘Yes, I think we ought to investigate there thoroughly,’ said Enderby. ‘I’ve hired a car and I’m starting there in about half an hour’s time. You had better come along with me.’
‘I will,’ said Emily. ‘What about Major Burnaby?’
‘He’s going to tramp it,’ said Enderby. ‘Started immediately after the inquest. If you ask me, he wanted to get out of having my company on the way there. Nobody could like trudging there through all this slush.’
‘Will the car be able to get up all right?’
‘Oh! yes. First day a car has been able to get through though.’
‘Well,’ said Emily rising to her feet. ‘It’s about time we went back to the Three Crowns, and I will pack my suitcase and do a short weeping act on Mrs Belling’s shoulder.’
‘Don’t you worry,’ said Mr Enderby rather fatuously. ‘You leave everything to me.’
‘That’s just what I mean to do,’ said Emily with a complete lack of truth. ‘It’s so wonderful to have someone you can really rely on.’
Emily Trefusis was really a very accomplished young woman.
Chapter 12
The Arrest
On her return to the Three Crowns, Emily had the good fortune to run right into Mrs Belling who was standing in the hallway.
‘Oh! Mrs Belling,’ she exclaimed. ‘I am leaving this afternoon.’
‘Yes, Miss. By the four ten train to Exeter, Miss?’
‘No, I am going up to Sittaford.’
‘To Sittaford?’
Mrs Belling’s countenance showed the most lively curiosity.
‘Yes, and I wanted to ask you if you knew of anywhere there where I could stay.’
‘You want to stay up there?’
The curiosity was heightened.
‘Yes, that is—Oh! Mrs Belling, is there somewhere I could speak to you privately for a moment?’
With something like alacrity Mrs Belling led the way to her own private sanctum. A small comfortable room with a large fire burning.
‘You won’t tell anyone, will you?’ began Emily, knowing well that of all openings on earth this one is the most certain to provoke interest and sympathy.
‘No, indeed, Miss, that I won’t,’ said Mrs Belling her dark eyes aglitter with interest.
‘You see, Mr Pearson—you know—’
‘The young gentleman that stayed here on Friday? And that the police have arrested?’
‘Arrested? Do you mean really arrested?’
‘Yes, Miss. Not half an hour ago.’
Emily had gone very white.
‘You—you’re sure of that?’
‘Oh! yes, Miss. Our Amy had it from the Sergeant.’
‘It’s too awful!’ said Emily. She had been expecting this, but it was none the better for that. ‘You see, Mrs Belling, I—I’m engaged to him. And he didn’t do it, and, oh dear, it’s all too dreadful!’
And here Emily began to cry. She had, earlier in the day, announced her intention to Charles Enderby of doing so, but what appalled her so was with what ease the tears came. To cry at will is not an easy accomplishment. There was something much too real about these tears. It frightened her. She mustn’t really give way. Giving way wasn’t the least use to Jim. To be resolute, logical and clear-sighted—these were the qualities that were going to count in this game. Sloppy crying had never helped anyone yet.
But it was a relief all the same, to let yourself go. After all she had meant to cry. Crying would be an undeniable passport to Mrs Belling’s sympathy and help. So why not have a good cry while she was about it? A real orgy of weeping in which all her troubles, doubts and unacknowledged fears might find vent and be swept away.
‘There, there, my dear, don