Towards Zero - Agatha Christie [57]
“Why not, Mrs. Strange?”
But she was vague.
“One doesn’t like to be disobliging.”
“You were the injured party?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It was you who divorced your husband?”
“Yes.”
“Do you—excuse me—feel any rancour against him?”
“No—not at all.”
“You have a very forgiving nature, Mrs. Strange.”
She did not answer. He tried silence—but Audrey was not Kay, to be thus goaded into speech. She could remain silent without any hint of uneasiness. Battle acknowledged himself beaten.
“You are sure it was not your idea—this meeting?”
“Quite sure.”
“You are on friendly terms with the present Mrs. Strange?”
“I don’t think she likes me very much.”
“Do you like her?”
“Yes. I think she is very beautiful.”
“Well—thank you—I think that is all.”
She got up and walked towards the door. Then she hesitated and came back.
“I would just like to say—” she spoke nervously and quickly. “You think Nevile did this—that he killed her because of the money. I’m quite sure that isn’t so. Nevile has never cared much about money. I do know that. I was married to him for eight years, you know. I just can’t see him killing anyone like that for money—it—it—isn’t Nevile. I know my saying so isn’t of any value as evidence—but I do wish you could believe it.”
She turned and hurried out of the room.
“And what do you make of her?” asked Leach. “I’ve never seen anyone so—so devoid of emotion.”
“She didn’t show any,” said Battle. “But it’s there. Some very strong emotion. And I don’t know what it is….”
VIII
Thomas Royde came last. He sat, solemn and stiff, blinking a little like an owl.
He was home from Malaya—first time for eight years. Had been in the habit of staying at Gull’s Point ever since he was a boy. Mrs. Audrey Strange was a distant cousin—and had been brought up by his family from the age of nine. On the preceding night he had gone to bed just before eleven. Yes, he had heard Mr. Nevile Strange leave the house but had not seen him. Nevile had left at about twenty past ten or perhaps a little later. He himself had heard nothing during the night. He was up and in the garden when the discovery of Lady Tressilian’s body had been made. He was an early riser.
There was a pause.
“Miss Aldin has told us that there was a state of tension in the house. Did you notice this too?”
“I don’t think so. Don’t notice things much.”
“That’s a lie,” thought Battle to himself. “You notice a good deal, I should say—more than most.”
No, he didn’t think Nevile Strange had been short of money in any way. He certainly had not seemed so. But he knew very little about Mr. Strange’s affairs.
“How well did you know the second Mrs. Strange?”
“I met her here for the first time.”
Battle played his last card.
“You may know, Mr. Royde, that we’ve found Mr. Nevile Strange’s fingerprints on the weapon. And we’ve found blood on the sleeve of the coat he wore last night.”
He paused. Royde nodded.
“He was telling us,” he muttered.
“I’m asking you frankly: Do you think he did it?”
Thomas Royde never liked to be hurried. He waited for a minute—which is a very long time—before he answered:
“Don’t see why you ask me! Not my business. It’s yours. Should say myself—very unlikely.”
“Can you think of anyone who seems to you more likely?”
Thomas shook his head.
“Only person I think likely, can’t possibly have done it. So that’s that.”
“And who is that?”
But Royde shook his head more decidedly.
“Couldn’t possibly say. Only my private opinion.”
“It’s your duty to assist the police.”
“Tell you any facts. This isn’t facts. Just an idea. And it’s impossible, anyway.”
“We didn’t get much out of him,” said Leach when Royde had gone.
Battle agreed.
“No, we didn’t. He’s got something in his mind—something quite definite. I’d like to know what it is. This is a very peculiar sort of crime, Jim, my boy—”
The telephone rang before Leach could answer. He took up the receiver and spoke. After a minute or two of listening he said “Good,” and slammed it down.
“Blood on the coat sleeve is human,” he announced. “Same blood group as Lady T’s.