They came to Baghdad - Agatha Christie [80]
‘Well,’ she said temporizing, ‘I’m not sure.’
‘It’s needed, you see, for the police of this district,’ explained Richard. ‘They enter its number and your name and age and special distinguishing marks, etc., all the whole caboodle. As we haven’t got the passport, I think we ought at any rate to send your name and description to them. By the way, what is your last name? I’ve always called you “Victoria”.’
Victoria rallied gallantly.
‘Come now,’ she said. ‘You know my last name as well as I do.’
‘That’s not quite true,’ said Richard. His smile curved upwards with a hint of cruelty. ‘I do know your last name. It’s you, I think who don’t know it.’
Through the glasses the eyes watched her.
‘Of course I know my own name,’ snapped Victoria.
‘Then I’ll challenge you to tell it to me – now.’
His voice was suddenly hard and curt.
‘It’s no good lying,’ he said. ‘The game’s up. You’ve been very clever about it. You’ve read up your subject, you’ve brought out very telling bits of knowledge – but it’s the kind of imposture you can’t keep up all the time. I’ve laid traps for you and you’ve fallen into them. I’ve quoted bits of sheer rubbish to you and you’ve accepted them.’ He paused. ‘You’re not Venetia Savile. Who are you?’
‘I told you who I was the first time I met you,’ said Victoria. ‘I’m Victoria Jones.’
‘Dr Pauncefoot Jones’ niece?’
‘I’m not his niece – but my name is Jones.’
‘You told me a lot of other things.’
‘Yes, I did. And they were all true! But I could see you didn’t believe me. And that made me mad, because though I do tell lies sometimes – in fact quite often – what I’d just told you wasn’t a lie. And so, just to make myself more convincing, I said my name was Pauncefoot Jones – I’ve said that before out here, and it’s always gone down frightfully well. How could I tell you were actually coming to this place?’
‘It must have been a slight shock to you,’ said Richard grimly. ‘You carried it off very well – cool as a cucumber.’
‘Not inside,’ said Victoria. ‘I was absolutely shaking. But I felt that if I waited to explain until I got here – well at any rate I should be safe.’
‘Safe?’ he considered the word. ‘Look here, Victoria, was that incredible rigmarole you told me about being chloroformed really true?’
‘Of course it was true! Don’t you see, if I wanted to make up a story I could make up a much better one than that, and tell it better!’
‘Knowing you a little more closely now, I can see the force of that! But you must admit that, on first hearing, the story was wildly improbable.’
‘But you are willing to think it’s possible now. Why?’
Richard said slowly.
‘Because if, as you say, you were mixed up in Carmichael’s death – well, then it might be true.’
‘That’s what it all began with,’ said Victoria.
‘You’d better tell me about it.’
Victoria stared at him very hard.
‘I’m wondering,’ she said, ‘if I can trust you.’
‘The boot is on the other leg! Do you realize that I’ve had grave suspicions that you’d planted yourself here under a false name in order to get information out of me? And perhaps that is what you are doing.’
‘Meaning that you know something about Carmichael that They would like to know?’
‘Who exactly are They?’
‘I shall have to tell you all about it,’ said Victoria. ‘There isn’t any other way – and if you are one of Them you know it already, so it doesn’t matter.’
She told him of the night of Carmichael’s death, of her interview with Mr Dakin, of her journey to Basrah, her employment in the Olive Branch, of Catherine’s hostility, of Dr Rathbone and his warning and of the final denouement, including this time the enigma of the dyed hair. The only things she left out were the red scarf and Madame Defarge.
‘Dr Rathbone?’ Richard seized on that point. ‘You think he’s mixed up in this? Behind it? But my dear girl, he’s a very important man. He’s known all over the world. Subscriptions pour in from all over the globe