The Sittaford Mystery - Agatha Christie [34]
She put a large motherly arm round Emily’s shoulders and patted her consolingly.
‘Said from the start I have that he didn’t do it. A regular nice young gentleman. A lot of chuckle-heads the police are, and so I’ve said before now. Some thieving tramp is a great deal more likely. Now, don’t ee fret, my dear, it’ll all come right, you see if it don’t.’
‘I am so dreadfully fond of him,’ wailed Emily.
Dear Jim, dear, sweet, boyish, helpless, impractical Jim. So utterly to be depended on to do the wrong thing at the wrong moment. What possible chance had he got against that steady, resolute Inspector Narracott?
‘We must save him,’ she wailed.
‘Of course, we will. Of course, we will,’ Mrs Belling consoled her.
Emily dabbed her eyes vigorously, gave one last sniff and gulp, and raising her head demanded fiercely:
‘Where can I stay at Sittaford?’
‘Up to Sittaford? You’re set on going there, my dear?’
‘Yes,’ Emily nodded vigorously.
‘Well, now,’ Mrs Belling cogitated the matter. ‘There’s only one place for ee to stay. There’s not much to Sittaford. There’s the big house, Sittaford House, which Captain Trevelyan built, and that’s let now to a South African lady. And there’s the six cottages he built, and No. 5 of them cottages has got Curtis, what used to be gardener at Sittaford House, in it, and Mrs Curtis. She lets rooms in the summer time, the Captain allowing her to do so. There’s nowhere else you could stay and that’s a fact. There’s the blacksmith’s and the post office, but Mary Hibbert, she’s got six children and her sister-in-law living with her, and the blacksmith’s wife she’s expecting her eighth, so there won’t be so much as a corner there. But how are you going to get up to Sittaford, Miss? Have you hired a car?’
‘I am going to share Mr Enderby’s.’
‘Ah, and where will he be staying, I wonder?’
‘I suppose he will have to be put up at Mrs Curtis’s too. Will she have room for both of us?’
‘I don’t know that that will look quite right for a young lady like you,’ said Mrs Belling.
‘He’s my cousin,’ said Emily.
On no account, she felt, must a sense of propriety intervene to work against her in Mrs Belling’s mind.
The landlady’s brow cleared. ‘Well, that may be all right then,’ she allowed grudgingly, ‘and likely as not if you’re not comfortable with Mrs Curtis they would put you up at the big house.’
‘I’m sorry I’ve been such an idiot,’ said Emily mopping once more at her eyes.
‘It’s only natural, my dear. And you feel better for it.’
‘I do,’ said Emily truthfully. ‘I feel much better.’
‘A good cry and a cup of tea—there’s nothing to beat them, and a nice cup of tea you shall have at once, my dear, before you start off on that cold drive.’
‘Oh, thank you, but I don’t think I really want—’
‘Never mind what you want, it’s what you’re going to have,’ said Mrs Belling rising with determination and moving towards the door. ‘And you tell Amelia Curtis from me that she’s to look after you and see you take your food proper and see you don’t fret.’
‘You are kind,’ said Emily.
‘And what’s more I shall keep my eyes and ears open down here,’ said Mrs Belling entering with relish into her part of the romance. ‘There’s many a little thing that I hear that never goes to the police. And anything I do hear I’ll pass on to you, Miss.’
‘Will you really?’
‘That I will. Don’t ee worry, my dear, we’ll have your young gentleman out of his trouble in no time.’
‘I must go and pack,’ said Emily rising.
‘I’ll send the tea up to you,’ said Mrs Belling.
Emily went upstairs, packed her few belongings into her suitcase, sponged her eyes with cold water and applied a liberal allowance of powder.
‘You have made yourself look a sight,’ she apostrophized herself in the glass. She added more powder and a touch of rouge.
‘Curious,’ said Emily, ‘how much better I feel. It’s worth the puffy look.’
She rang the bell. The chambermaid (the sympathetic sister-in-law of Constable Graves) came promptly. Emily presented her with a pound note and begged her earnestly to pass on any information she