Unexpected Guest - Agatha Christie [30]
‘I shouldn’t like to inconvenience Mrs Warwick in any way,’ Angell replied, unctuously.
Before speaking, Farrar took a cigarette from his case, and then returned the case to his pocket. ‘You mean,’ he said, ‘you’re–stopping on a bit to oblige her?’
‘That is quite true, sir,’ Angell affirmed. ‘I am helping out in the house. But that is not exactly what I meant.’ He paused, and then continued, ‘It’s a matter, really–of my conscience, sir.’
‘What in hell do you mean–your conscience?’ Farrar asked sharply.
Angell looked uncomfortable, but his voice was quite confident as he continued, ‘I don’t think you quite appreciate my difficulties, sir. In the matter of giving my evidence to the police, that is. It is my duty as a citizen to assist the police in any manner possible. At the same time, I wish to remain loyal to my employers.’
Julian Farrar turned away to light his cigarette. ‘You speak as though there was a conflict,’ he said quietly.
‘If you think about it, sir,’ Angell remarked, ‘you will realize that there is bound to be a conflict–a conflict of loyalties if I may so put it.’
Farrar looked directly at the valet. ‘Just exactly what are you getting at, Angell?’ he asked.
‘The police, sir, are not in a position to appreciate the background,’ Angell replied. ‘The background might–I just say might–be very important in a case like this. Also, of late I have been suffering rather severely from insomnia.’
‘Do your ailments have to come into this?’ Farrar asked him sharply.
‘Unfortunately they do, sir,’ was the valet’s smooth reply. ‘I retired early last night, but I was unable to get to sleep.’
‘I’m sorry about that,’ Farrar commiserated drily, ‘but really–’
‘You see, sir,’ Angell continued, ignoring the interruption, ‘owing to the position of my bedroom in this house, I have become aware of certain matters of which perhaps the police are not fully cognizant.’
‘Just what are you trying to say?’ Farrar asked, coldly.
‘The late Mr Warwick, sir,’ Angell replied, ‘was a sick man and a cripple. It’s really only to be expected under those sad circumstances that an attractive lady like Mrs Warwick might–how shall I put it?–form an attachment elsewhere.’
‘So that’s it, is it?’ said Farrar. ‘I don’t think I like your tone, Angell.’
‘No, sir,’ Angell murmured. ‘But please don’t be too precipitate in your judgement. Just think it over, sir. You will perhaps realize my difficulty. Here I am, in possession of knowledge which I have not, so far, communicated to the police–but knowledge which, perhaps, it is my duty to communicate to them.’
Julian Farrar stared at Angell coldly. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘that this story of going to the police with your information is all ballyhoo. What you’re really doing is suggesting that you’re in a position to stir up dirt unless–’ he paused, and then completed his sentence: ‘–unless what?’
Angell shrugged his shoulders. ‘I am, of course, as you have just pointed out,’ he observed, ‘a fully qualified nurse-attendant. But there are times, Major Farrar, when I feel I would like to set up on my own. A small–not a nursing-home, exactly–but an establishment where I could take on perhaps five or six patients. With an assistant, of course. The patients would probably include gentlemen who are alcoholically difficult to manage at home. That sort of thing. Unfortunately, although I have accumulated a certain amount of savings, they are not enough. I wondered–’ His voice trailed off suggestively.
Julian Farrar completed his thought for him. ‘You wondered,’ he said, ‘if I–or I and Mrs Warwick together–could come to your assistance in this project, no doubt.’
‘I just wondered, sir,’ Angell replied meekly. ‘It would be a great kindness on your part.’
‘Yes, it would, wouldn’t it?’ Farrar observed sarcastically.
‘You suggested rather harshly,’ Angell went on, ‘that I’m threatening to stir up dirt. Meaning, I take it, scandal.