The Sittaford Mystery - Agatha Christie [36]
‘Miss Percehouse has a nephew who occasionally comes down to see her,’ she went on, ‘and indeed he’s staying with her at the present time. Seeing to it that the money doesn’t go out of the family, that’s what he’s doing. Very dull for a young gentleman at this time of year. But there, there’s more ways than one of amusing yourself, and his coming has been a providence for the young lady at Sittaford House. Poor young thing, the idea of bringing her to that great barrack of a house in the winter time. Selfish is what some mothers are. A very pretty young lady, too. Mr Ronald Garfield is up there as often as he can be without neglecting Miss Percehouse.’
Charles Enderby and Emily exchanged glances. Charles remembered that Ronald Garfield had been mentioned as one of the party present at the table-turning.
‘The cottage this side of mine, No. 6,’ continued Mrs Curtis, ‘has only just been took. Gentleman of the name of Duke. That is if you would call him a gentleman. Of course, he may be and he may not. There’s no saying, folks aren’t so particular nowadays as they used to be. He’s been made free of the place in the heartiest manner. A bashful sort of gentleman he is—might be a military gentleman from the look of him, but somehow he hasn’t got the manner. Not like Major Burnaby, that you would know as a military gentleman the first time you clapped eyes on him.
‘No. 3, that’s Mr Rycroft’s, little elderly gentleman. They do say that he used to go after birds to outlandish parts for the British Museum. What they call a naturalist he is. Always out and roaming over the moor when the weather permits. And he has a very fine library of books. His cottage is nearly all bookcases.
‘No. 2, is an invalid gentleman’s, a Captain Wyatt with an Indian servant. And poor fellow he does feel the cold, he does. The servant I mean, not the Captain. Coming from warm outlandish parts, it’s no wonder. The heat they keep up inside the house would frighten you. It’s like walking into an oven.
‘No. 1, is Major Burnaby’s cottage. Lives by himself he does, and I go in to do for him early mornings. He is a very neat gentleman, he is, and very particular. He and Captain Trevelyan were as thick as thieves. Friends of a lifetime they were. And they both have the same kind of outlandish heads stuck up on the walls.
‘As for Mrs Willett and Miss Willett, that’s what no one can make out. Plenty of money there. Amos Parker at Exhampton they deal with, and he tells me their weekly book comes to well over eight pounds or nine pounds. You wouldn’t believe the eggs that goes into that house! Brought their maidservants from Exeter with them, they did, but they don’t like it and want to leave, and I’m sure I don’t blame them. Mrs Willett, she sends them into Exeter twice a week in her car, and what with that and the living being so good, they agreed to stop on, but if you ask me it’s a queer business, burying yourself in the country like this, a smart lady like that. Well, well, I suppose I had better be clearing away these tea things.’
She drew a deep breath and so did Charles and Emily. The flow of information loosened with so little difficulty had almost overwhelmed them.
Charles ventured to put a question.
‘Has Major Burnaby got back yet?’ he asked.
Mrs Curtis paused at once, tray in hand. ‘Yes, indeed, sir, came tramping in just the same as ever about half an hour before you arrived. “Why, sir,” I cried to him. “You’ve never walked all the way from Exhampton?” And he says in his stern way, “Why not? If a man has got two legs he doesn’t need four wheels. I do it once a week anyway as you know, Mrs Curtis.” “Oh, yes, sir, but this is different. What with the shock and the murder and the inquest it’s wonderful you’ve got the strength to do it.” But he only grunted like and walked on. He looks bad though. It’s a miracle he ever got through on Friday night. Brave I call it at his age. Tramping off like that and three miles of it in a snowstorm. You may say what you like, but