The Sittaford Mystery - Agatha Christie [55]
‘Do you mean,’ said Emily, ‘that he did murder him after all? You are quite welcome to that view if you like. I said to you at the beginning that that was the natural view to take, but I said we had to work on the assumption that he didn’t.’
‘I don’t mean that,’ said Enderby. ‘I am with you in assuming that he didn’t do the old boy in. What I mean is, how far is his own story of what happened true? He says that he went there, had a chat with the old fellow, and came away leaving him alive and well.’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, it just occurred to me, you don’t think it’s possible that he went there and actually found the old man dead? I mean, he might have got the wind up and been scared and not like to say so.’
Charles had propounded this theory rather dubiously, but he was relieved to find that Emily showed no signs of flying out at him over it. Instead, she frowned and creased her brow in thought.
‘I am not going to pretend,’ she said. ‘It is possible. I hadn’t thought of it before. I know Jim wouldn’t murder anyone, but he might quite well get rattled and tell a silly lie and then, of course, he would have to stick to it. Yes, it is quite possible.’
‘The awkward thing is that you can’t go and ask him about it now. I mean they wouldn’t let you see him alone, would they?’
‘I can put Mr Dacres on to him,’ said Emily. ‘You see your solicitor alone, I believe. The worst of Jim is that he is frightfully obstinate, if he has once said a thing he sticks to it.’
‘That’s my story and I’m going to stick to it,’ said Mr Enderby comprehendingly.
‘Yes. I am glad you mentioned that possibility to me, Charles, it hadn’t occurred to me. We have been looking for someone who came in after Jim had left—but if it was before—’
She paused, lost in thought. Two very different theories stretched out in opposite directions. There was the one suggested by Mr Rycroft, in which Jim’s quarrel with his uncle was the determining point. The other theory, however, took no cognizance of Jim whatsoever. The first thing to do, Emily felt, was to see the doctor who had first examined the body. If it were possible that Captain Trevelyan had been murdered at—say—four o’clock, it might make a considerable difference to the question of alibis. And the other thing to do was to make Mr Dacres urge most strongly on his client the absolute necessity of speaking the truth on this point.
She rose from the bed.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘you had better find out how I can get to Exhampton. The man at the smithy has a car of a kind, I believe. Will you go and settle with him about it? I’ll start immediately after lunch. There’s a train at three ten to Exeter. That will give me time to see the doctor first. What’s the time now?’
‘Half past twelve,’ said Mr Enderby, consulting his watch.
‘Then we will both go up and fix up about that car,’ said Emily. ‘And there’s just one other thing I want to do before leaving Sittaford.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I am going to pay a call on Mr Duke. He’s the only person in Sittaford I haven’t seen. And he was one of the people at the table-turning.’
‘Oh, we’ll pass his cottage on the way to the smithy.’
Mr Duke’s cottage was the last of the row. Emily and Charles unlatched the gate and walked up the path. And then something rather surprising occurred. For the door opened and a man came out. And that man was Inspector Narracott.
He, too, looked surprised and, Emily fancied, embarrassed.
Emily abandoned her original intention.
‘I am so glad to have met you, Inspector Narracott,’ she said. ‘There are one or two things I want to talk to you about if I may.’
‘Delighted, Miss Trefusis.’ He drew out a watch. ‘I’m afraid you will have to look sharp. I’ve a car waiting. I’ve got to go back to Exhampton almost immediately.’
‘How extraordinarily fortunate,’ said Emily. ‘You might give me a lift, will you, Inspector?’
The Inspector said rather woodenly that he would be very pleased to do so.
‘You might go and get my suitcase, Charles,’ said