The Sittaford Mystery - Agatha Christie [76]
There was a tinge of something like suspicion in his voice.
‘If you are going to marry into a family it’s just as well to see all your relations-in-law beforehand.’
‘Know the worst before it’s too late. So you really think you are going to marry young Jim, eh?’
‘Why not?’
‘In spite of this murder charge?’
‘In spite of this murder charge.’
‘Well,’ said Robert Gardner, ‘I have never seen anybody less cast down. Anyone would think you were enjoying yourself.’
‘I am. Tracking down a murderer is frightfully thrilling,’ said Emily.
‘Eh?’
‘I said tracking down a murderer is frightfully thrilling,’ said Emily.
Robert Gardner stared at her, then he threw himself back on his pillows.
‘I am tired,’ he said in a fretful voice. ‘I can’t talk any more. Nurse, where’s Nurse? Nurse, I’m tired.’
Nurse Davis had come swiftly at his call from an adjoining room. ‘Mr Gardner gets tired very easily. I think you had better go now if you don’t mind, Miss Trefusis.’
Emily rose to her feet. She nodded brightly and said:
‘Good-bye, Uncle Robert. Perhaps I’ll come back some day.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Au revoir,’ said Emily.
She was going out of the front door when she stopped.
‘Oh!’ she said to Beatrice. ‘I have left my gloves.’
‘I will get them, Miss.’
‘Oh, no,’ said Emily. ‘I’ll do it.’ She ran lightly up the stairs and entered without knocking.
‘Oh,’ said Emily. ‘I beg your pardon. I am so sorry. It was my gloves.’ She took them up ostentatiously, and smiling sweetly at the two occupants of the room who were sitting hand in hand ran down the stairs and out of the house.
‘This glove leaving is a terrific scheme,’ said Emily to herself. ‘This is the second time it’s come off. Poor Aunt Jennifer, does she know, I wonder? Probably not. Imust hurry or I’ll keep Charles waiting.’
Enderby was waiting in Elmer’s Ford at the agreed rendezvous.
‘Any luck?’ he asked as he tucked the rug round her.
‘In a way, yes. I’m not sure.’
Enderby looked at her inquiringly.
‘No,’ said Emily in answer to his glance, ‘I’m not going to tell you about it. You see, it may have nothing whatever to do with it—and if so, it wouldn’t be fair.’
Enderby sighed.
‘I call that hard,’ he observed.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Emily firmly. ‘But there it is.’
‘Have it your own way,’ said Charles coldly.
They drove on in silence—an offended silence on Charles’s part—an oblivious one on Emily’s.
They were nearly at Exhampton when she broke the silence by a totally unexpected remark.
‘Charles,’ she said, ‘are you a bridge player?’
‘Yes, I am. Why?’
‘I was thinking. You know what they tell you to do when you’re assessing the value of your hand? If you’re defending—count the winners—but if you’re attacking count the losers. Now, we’re attacking in this business of ours—but perhaps we have been doing it the wrong way.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, we’ve been counting the winners, haven’t we? I mean going over the people who could have killed Captain Trevelyan, however improbable it seems. And that’s perhaps why we’ve got so terribly muddled.’
‘I haven’t got muddled,’ said Charles.
‘Well, I have then. I’m so muddled I can’t think at all. Let’s look at it the other way round. Let’s count the losers—the people who can’t possibly have killed Captain Trevelyan.’
‘Well, let’s see—’ Enderby reflected. ‘To begin with there’s the Willetts and Burnaby and Rycroft and Ronnie—Oh! and Duke.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Emily. ‘We know none of them can have killed him. Because at the time he was killed they were all at Sittaford House and they all saw each other and they can’t all be lying. Yes, they’re all out of it.’
‘As a matter of fact everyone in Sittaford is out of it,’ said Enderby. ‘Even Elmer,’ he lowered his voice in deference to the possibility of the driver hearing him. ‘Because the road to Sittaford was impassable for cars on Friday.’
‘He could have walked,’ said Emily in an equally low voice. ‘If Major Burnaby could have got there that evening Elmer could have started at lunch time—got to Exhampton at five, murdered him, and walked back again.’
Enderby shook his