The Sittaford Mystery - Agatha Christie [78]
‘You’ve seen him?’ asked Emily curiously.
Inspector Narracott looked at her vivid face, and felt tempted to relax official caution. Leaning back in his chair he recounted his interview with Mr Dering, then from a file at his elbow he took out a copy of the wireless message he had dispatched to Mr Rosenkraun. ‘That’s what I sent,’ he said. ‘And here’s the reply.’
Emily read it.
Narracott 2 Drysdale Road Exeter. Certainly confirm Mr Dering’s statement. He was in my company all Friday afternoon. Rosenkraun.
‘Oh!—bother,’ said Emily, selecting a milder word than she had meant to use, knowing that the police force was old-fashioned and easily shocked.
‘Ye-es,’ said Inspector Narracott reflectively. ‘It’s annoying, isn’t it?’
And his slow Devonshire smile broke out again.
‘But I am a suspicious man, Miss Trefusis. Mr Dering’s reasons sounded very plausible—but I thought it a pity to play into his hands too completely. So I sent another wireless message.’
Again he handed her two pieces of paper.
The first ran:
Information wanted re murder of Captain Trevelyan. Do you support Martin Dering’s statement of alibi for Friday afternoon. Divisional Inspector Narracott Exeter.
The return message showed agitation and a reckless disregard for expense.
Had no idea it was criminal case did not see Martin Dering Friday Agreed support his statement as one friend to another believed his wife was having him watched for divorce proceedings.
‘Oh,’ said Emily. ‘Oh!—you are clever, Inspector.’
The Inspector evidently thought that he had been rather clever. His smile was gentle and contented.
‘How men do stick together,’ went on Emily looking over the telegrams. ‘Poor Sylvia. In some ways I really think that men are beasts. That’s why,’ she added, ‘it’s so nice when one finds a man on whom one can really rely.’
And she smiled admiringly at the Inspector.
‘Now, all this is very confidential, Miss Trefusis,’ the Inspector warned her. ‘I have gone further than I should in letting you know about this.’
‘I think it’s adorable of you,’ said Emily. ‘I shall never never forget it.’
‘Well, mind,’ the Inspector warned her. ‘Not a word to anybody.’
‘You mean that I am not to tell Charles—Mr Enderby.’
‘Journalists will be journalists,’ said Inspector Narracott. ‘However well you have got him tamed, Miss Trefusis—well, news is news, isn’t it?’
‘I won’t tell him then,’ said Emily. ‘I think I’ve got him muzzled all right, but as you say newspaper men will be newspaper men.’
‘Never part with information unnecessarily. That’s my rule,’ said Inspector Narracott.
A faint twinkle appeared in Emily’s eyes, her unspoken thought being that Inspector Narracott had infringed this rule rather badly during the last half hour.
A sudden recollection came into her mind, not of course that it probably mattered now. Everything seemed to be pointing in a totally different direction. But still it would be nice to know.
‘Inspector Narracott!’ she said suddenly. ‘Who is Mr Duke?’
‘Mr Duke?’
She thought the Inspector was rather taken aback by her questions.
‘You remember,’ said Emily, ‘we met you coming out of his cottage in Sittaford.’
‘Ah, yes, yes, I remember. To tell you the truth, Miss Trefusis, I thought I would like to have an independent account of that table-turning business. Major Burnaby is not a first-rate hand at description.’
‘And yet,’ said Emily thoughtfully, ‘if I had been you, I should have gone to somebody like Mr Rycroft for it. Why Mr Duke?’
There was a silence and then the Inspector said:
‘Just a matter of opinion.’
‘I wonder. I wonder if the police know something about Mr Duke.’
Inspector Narracott didn’t answer. He had got his eyes fixed very steadily on the blotting paper.
‘The man who leads a blameless life!’ said Emily, ‘that seems to describe Mr Duke awfully accurately, but perhaps he hasn’t always led a blameless life? Perhaps the police know that?’
She saw