The Sittaford Mystery - Agatha Christie [47]
‘Thank you,’ said Emily.
‘Shingled,’ went on Charles.
‘What do you mean by shingled?’
‘You are,’ said Charles.
‘Well, of course I am,’ said Emily. ‘But why mention it?’
‘Women readers always like to know,’ said Charles Enderby. ‘It was a splendid interview. You’ve no idea what fine womanly touching things you said about standing by your man, no matter if the whole world was against him.’
‘Did I really say that?’ said Emily wincing slightly.
‘Do you mind?’ said Mr Enderby anxiously.
‘Oh! no,’ said Emily. ‘Enjoy yourself, darling.’ Mr Enderby looked slightly taken aback.
‘It’s all right,’ said Emily. ‘That’s a quotation. I had it on my bib when I was small—my Sunday bib. The weekday one had “Don’t be a glutton” on it.’
‘Oh! I see. I put in a very good bit about Captain Trevelyan’s sea career and just a hint at foreign idols looted and a possibility of a strange priest’s revenge—only a hint you know.’
‘Well, you seem to have done your day’s good deed,’ said Emily.
‘What have you been up to? You were up early enough, heaven knows.’
Emily described her meeting with Mr Rycroft.
She broke off suddenly and Enderby, glancing over his shoulder and following the direction of her eyes, became aware of a pink, healthy-looking young man leaning over the gate and making various apologetic noises to attract attention.
‘I say,’ said the young man, ‘frightfully sorry to butt in and all that. I mean, it is awfully awkward, but my aunt sent me along.’
Emily and Charles both said, ‘Oh,’ in an inquiring tone, not being much the wiser for the explanation.
‘Yes,’ said the young man. ‘To tell the truth my aunt’s rather a Tartar. What she says goes, if you know what I mean. Of course, I think it’s frightfully bad form coming along at a time like this, but if you knew my aunt—and if you do as she wants, you will know her in a few minutes—’
‘Is your aunt Miss Percehouse?’ broke in Emily.
‘That’s right,’ said the young man much relieved. ‘So you know all about her? Old Mother Curtis has been talking, I suppose. She can wag a tongue, can’t she? Not that she’s a bad sort, mind you. Well, the fact is, my aunt said she wanted to see you, and I was to come along and tell you so. Compliments, and all that, and would it be troubling you too much—she was an invalid and quite unable to get out and it would be a great kindness—well, you know the sort of thing. I needn’t say it all. It’s curiosity really, of course, and if you say you’ve got a headache, or have got letters to write, it will be quite all right and you needn’t bother.’
‘Oh, but I should like to bother,’ said Emily. ‘I’ll come with you at once. Mr Enderby has got to go along and see Major Burnaby.’
‘Have I?’ said Enderby in a low voice.
‘You have,’ said Emily firmly.
She dismissed him with a brief nod and joined her new friend in the road.
‘I suppose you’re Mr Garfield,’ she said.
‘That’s right. I ought to have told you.’
‘Oh, well,’ said Emily, ‘it wasn’t very difficult to guess.’
‘Splendid of you coming along like this,’ said Mr Garfield. ‘Lots of girls would have been awfully offended. But you know what old ladies are.’
‘You don’t live down here, do you, Mr Garfield?’
‘You bet your life I don’t.’ said Ronnie Garfield with fervour. ‘Did you ever see such a god-forsaken spot? Not so much as the Pictures to go to. I wonder someone doesn’t commit a murder to—’
He paused, appalled by what he had said.
‘I say, I am sorry. I am the most unlucky devil that ever lived. Always coming out with the wrong thing. I never meant it for a moment.’
‘I’m sure you didn’t,’ said Emily soothingly.
‘Here we are,’ said Mr Garfield. He pushed open a gate, and Emily passed through and went up the path leading to a small cottage identical with the rest. In the living-room giving on the garden was a couch, and on it was lying an elderly lady with a thin wrinkled face and with one of the sharpest and most interrogative noses that Emily had ever seen. She raised herself on an elbow with a little difficulty.
‘So you’ve brought her,’ she said. ‘Very kind of