The Sittaford Mystery - Agatha Christie [53]
Suddenly there was a break in the conversation—a sound of a footstep. Emily retreated rapidly.
When Violet Willett opened her mother’s door and came down the stairs she was surprised to find her late guest standing in the hall peering about her in a lost dog kind of way.
‘My gloves,’ she explained. ‘I must have left them. I came back for them.’
‘I expect they are in here,’ said Violet.
They went into the drawing-room and there, sure enough, on a little table near where Emily had been sitting lay the missing gloves.
‘Oh, thank you,’ said Emily. ‘It’s so stupid of me. I am always leaving things.’
‘And you want gloves in this weather,’ said Violet. ‘It’s so cold.’ Once again they parted at the hall door, and this time Emily heard the key being turned in the lock.
She went down the drive with plenty to think about, for, as that door on the upper landing had opened, she had heard distinctly one sentence spoken in an older woman’s fretful and plaintive voice.
‘My God,’ the voice had wailed, ‘I can’t bear it. Will tonight never come?’
Chapter 19
Theories
Emily arrived back at the cottage to find her boy friend absent. He had, Mrs Curtis explained, gone off with several other young gentlemen, but two telegrams had come for the young lady. Emily took them, opened them, and put them in the pocket of her sweater, Mrs Curtis eyeing them hungrily the while.
‘Not bad news, I hope?’ said Mrs Curtis.
‘Oh, no,’ said Emily.
‘Always gives me a turn, a telegram does,’ said Mrs Curtis.
‘I know,’ said Emily. ‘Very disturbing.’
At the moment she felt disinclined for anything but solitude. She wanted to sort out and arrange her own ideas. She went up to her own room, and taking pencil and notepaper she set to work on a system of her own. After twenty minutes of this exercise she was interrupted by Mr Enderby.
‘Hullo, hullo, hullo, there you are. Fleet Street has been hard on your tracks all morning but they have just missed you everywhere. Anyway they have had it from me that you are not to be worried. As far as you’re concerned, I am the big noise.’
He sat down on the chair—Emily was occupying the bed—and chuckled.
‘Envy and malice isn’t in it!’ he said. ‘I have been handing them out the goods. I know everyone and I am right in it. It’s too good to be true. I keep pinching myself and feeling I will wake up in a minute. I say, have you noticed the fog?’
‘It won’t stop me going to Exeter this afternoon, will it?’ said Emily.
‘Do you want to go to Exeter?’
‘Yes. I have to meet Mr Dacres there. My solicitor, you know—the one who is undertaking Jim’s defence. He wants to see me. And I think I shall pay a visit to Jim’s Aunt Jennifer, while I am there. After all, Exeter is only half an hour away.’
‘Meaning she might have nipped over by train and batted her brother over the head and nobody would have noticed her absence.’
‘Oh, I know it sounds rather improbable, but one has to go into everything. Not that I want it to be Aunt Jennifer—I don’t. I would much rather it was Martin Dering. I hate the sort of man who presumes on going to be a brother-in-law and does things in public that you can’t smack his face for.’
‘Is he that kind?’
‘Very much that kind. He’s an ideal person for a murderer—always getting telegrams from bookmakers and losing money on horses. It’s annoying that he’s got such a good alibi. Mr Dacres told me about it. A publisher and a literary dinner seems so very unbreakable and respectable.’
‘A literary dinner,’ said Enderby. ‘Friday night. Martin Dering—let me see—Martin Dering—why, yes—I am almost sure of it. Dash it all, I am quite sure of it, but I can clinch things by wiring to Carruthers.’
‘What are you talking about?’ said Emily.
‘Listen. You know I came down to Exhampton on Friday evening. Well, there was a bit