9,4
I
Murder at Hazelmoor
a motive for killing Captain Trevelyan. The police are
quite certain that this is not what they call an 'outside
job'--I mean, it wasn't a burglar. The broken open win-dow
was hked."
"Did the police tell you all this?"
"Practically," said Emily.
"What do you mean by practically?"
"The chambermaid told me, and her sister is married
to Constable Graves, so, of course, she knows everything
the police think."
"Very well," said Mr. Enderby, "it wasn't an outside
job. It was an inside one."
"Exactly," said Emily. "The police--that is Inspector
Narracott who, by the way, I should think is an awfully
sound nan, have started investigating to find who ben-efits
by Captain Trevelyan's death, and with Jim sticking
out a mile, so to speak, they won't bother to go on with
other investigations much. Well, that's got to be our job."
"What a scoop it would be," said Mr. Enderby, "if
you and I discovered the real murderer. The crime ex-pert
of the Daily Wire--that's the way I should be de-scribed.
But it's too good to be true," he added
despondently. "That sort of thing only happens in books."
"Nonsense," said Emily, "it happens with me."
"You're simply marvelous," said Enderby again.
Emily brought out a little notebook.
"Now let's put things down methodically. Jim himself}
his brother and sister, and his Aunt Jennifer benefit equally
by Captain Trevelyan's death. Of course Sylvia--that's
Jim's sister--wouldn't hurt a fly, but I wouldn't put it
past her husband, he's what I call a nasty sort of brute.
95
Agatha Christie
You know--the artistic nasty kind, has affairs with
women-all that sort of thing. Very likely to be in a hole
financially- The money they'd come into would actually
be Sylvia's, but that wouldn't matter to him. He would
soon maoage to get it out of her."
"He sounds a most unpleasant person," said Mr. En-derby.
"Oh! yes. Good-looking in a bold sort of way. Women
talk abotxt sex with him in corners. Real men hate him."
"Well, that's suspect No. x," said Mr. Enderby, also
writing iq a little book. "Investigate his movements on
Fridayeasily done under the guise of interview with
popular qovelist connected with the crime. Is that all
right?"
"Spleodid," said Emily. "Then there's Brian, Jim's
younger brother. He's supposed to be in Australia, but
he might quite easily have come back. I mean, people
do sometimes without saying."
"We could send him a cable."
"We will. I suppose Aunt Jennifer is out of it. From
all I've heard she's rather a wonderful person. She's got
character. Still, after all, she wasn't very far away, she
was only at Exeter. She might have come over to see
her brother, and he might have said something nasty
about her husband whom she adores, and she might have
seen red and snatched up a sandbag and biffed him one."
"Do yon really think so?" said Mr. Enderby dubiously.
"No, rot really. But one never knows. Then, of course,
there's the batman. He only gets pounds o under the will
and he seems all right. But there again, one never knows.
His wife is Mrs. Belling's niece. You know Mrs. Belling
Murder at Hazelmoor
who keeps the Three Crowns. I think I shall weep on
her shoulder when I get back. She looks rather a moth-erly
and romantic soul. I think she would be terribly
sorry for me with my young man probably going to prison,
and she might let slip something useful. And then, of
course, there's Sittaford House. Do you know what struck
me as queer?"
"No, what?"
"These people, the Willetts. The ones that took Cap-tain
Trevelyan's house furnished in the middle of winter.
It's an awfully queer thing to do."
"Yes, it is odd," agreed Mr. Enderby. "There might
be something at the bottom of that--something to do
with Captain Trevelyan's past life.
"That sance business was queer too," he added. "I'm
thinking of writing that up for the paper. Get opinions
from Sir Oliver Lodge and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and
a few actresses and people about it."
"What sance business?"
Mr. Enderby recounted it with gusto. There was noth-ing
connected with the murder that he had not managed
somehow or other to hear.
"Bit odd, isn't it?" he finished. "I mean, it makes you
think and all that. May be something in these things.
First time I've really ever come across anything authen-tic."
Emily gave a slight shiver. "I hate supernatural things,"
she said. "Just for once, as you say, it does look as though
there was something in it. But how--how gruesome!"
"This sance business never seems very practical, does
it? If the old boy could get through and say he was dead,
97
Aga::tha Christie
why couldn't he say wl°murdered him? It ought to be
all so simple."
"I feel there may be' a clue in Sittaford,' said Emily
thoughtfully.
"Yes, I think we o''ught to investigate there thoroughly,''
said Enderby. "I've hired a car and I'm starting
there in about half an 1'0°ur's time. You had better come
along with me."
"I will," said Emily, "What about Major Burnaby?"
"He's going to tramL9 it," said Enderby. "Started immediately
after the inOtnest. If you ask me, he wanted
to get out of having any company on the way there.
Nobody could like trudging there through all this slush."
"Will the car be abl to get up all right?"
"Oh! yes. First day car has been able to get through
though."
"Well," said Emily ¢isfig to her feet. "It's about time
we went back to the qhree Crowns and I will pack my
suitcase and do a sho¥t Weeping act on Mrs. Belling's
shoulder."
"Don't you worry," said Mr. Enderby rather fatuously.
"You leave everything; to me."
"That's just what I mean to do," said Emily with a
complete lack of truth, "It's so wonderfid to have someone
you can really rely or."
Emily Trefusis was really a very accomplished young
woman.
98
The Arrest
o N her returnto the Three Crowns, Emily' had the
good fortune to run right into Mrs. Belling who was
standing in the hallway.
"Oh! Mrs. lelling," she exclaimed. "I
afternoon."
am leaving this
"Yes, Miss. By the four ten train to Exeter, Miss?"
"No, I am going up to Sittaford."
"To Sittafor?"
Mrs. Belling's countenance showed the most lively
curiosity.
"Yes, and I Wanted to ask you if you knew of anywhere
there where I could stay."
"You want to stay up there?"
The curiosity was heightened.
"Yes, that is--Oh! Mrs. Belling, is th
ere somewhere
I could speak to you privately for a moment?"
With something like alacrity Mrs. Belling led the way
to her own private sanctum. A small comfortable room
with a large flee burning.
"You won't tell anyone, will you?" began Emily, know-ing
well that of all openings on earth this one is the most
certain to provoke interest and sympathy.
"No, indeecl, Miss, that I won't," said Mrs. Belling,
her dark eyes aglitter with interest.
"You see, llr. Pearson--you know--"
Agatha Christie
"The young gentleman that stayed here on Friday?
And that the police have arrested?"
"Arrested? Do you mean really arrested?"
"Yes, Miss. Not half an hour ago."
Emily had gone very white.
"You--you're sure of that?"
"Oh! yes, Miss. Our Amy had it from the Sergeant."
"It's too awful!" said Emily. She had been expecting
this but it was none the better for that. "You see, Mrs.
Belling, I--I'm engaged to him. And he didn't do it,
and, oh dear, it's all too dreadful!"
And here Emily began to cry. She had, earlier in the
day, announced her intentions to Charles Enderby of
doing so, but what appalled her so was with what ease
the tears came. To cry at will is not an easy accomplish-ment.
There was something much too real about these
tears. It frightened her. She mustn't really give way.
Giving way wasn't the least use to Jim. To be resolute,
logical and clear sighted--these were the qualities that
were going to count in this game. Sloppy crying had
never helped anyone yet.
But it was a relief all the same, to let yourself go. After
all she had meant to cry. Crying would be an undeniable
passport to Mrs. Belling's sympathy and help. So why
not have a good cry while she was about it. A real orgy
of weeping in which all her troubles, doubts and unack-nowledged
fears might find vent and be swept away.
"There, there, my dear, don't ee take on so," said
Mrs. Belling.
She put a large motherly arm round Emily's shoulders
and patted her consolingly.
100
Murder at Hazelmoor
"Said from the start I have that he didn't do it. A
regular nice young gentleman. A lot of chuckleheads the
police are, and so I've said befo£e now. Some thieving
tramp is a great deal more likely. Now, don't ee fret,
my dear, it'll all come right, you see if it don't."
"I am so dreadfully fond of him," wailed Emily.
Dear Jim, dear, sweet, boyish, helpless, impractical
Jim. So utterly to be depended on to do the wrong thing
at the wrong moment. What possible chance had he got
against that steady, resolute Inspector Narracott? "We must save him," she wailed.
"Of course, we will. Of course, we will," Mrs. Belling
consoled her.
Emily dabbed her eyes vigorously, gave one last sniff
and gulp, and raising her head demanded fiercely:
"Where can I stay at Sittaford?"
"Up to Sittaford? You're set on going there, my dear?"
"Yes," Emily nodded vigorously.
"Well, now," Mrs. Belling cogitated the matter. "There's
only one place for ee to stay. There's not much to Sit-taford.
There's the big house, Sittaford House, which
Captain Trevelyan built, and that's let now to a South
African lady. And there's the six cottages he built, and
No. 5 of them cottages had got Curtis, what used to be
gardener at Sittaford House, in it, and Mrs. Curtis. She
lets rooms in the summer time, the Captain allowing her
to do so. There's nowhere else you could stay and that's
a tact. There's the blacksmith's and the post office, but
Mary Hibbert, she's got six children and her sister-in-law
living with her, and the blacksmith's wife she's expecting
her eighth, so there won't be so much as a corner
101
Agatha Christie
there. But, how are you going to get up to Sittaford,
Miss? Have you hired a car?"
"I am going to share Mr. Enderby's."
"Ah, and where will he be staying I wonder?"
"I suppose he will have to be put up at Mrs. Curtis's
too. Will she have room for both of us?"
"I don't know that that will look quite right for a young
lady like you," said Mrs. Belling.
"He's my cousin," said Emily.
On no account, she felt, must a sense of propriety
intervene to work against her in Mrs. Belling's mind.
The landlady's brow cleared. "Well, that may be all
right then," she allowed grudgingly, "and likely as not if you're not comfortable with Mrs. Curtis they would
put you up at the big house."
"I'm sorry I've been such an idiot," said Emily mopping
once more at her eyes.
"It's only natural, my dear. And you feel better for
it."
"I do," said Emily truthfully. "I feel much better." "A good cry and a good cup of tea--there's nothing
to beat them, and a nice cup of tea you shall have at
once, my dear, before you start off on that cold drive."
"Oh, thank you, but I don't think I really want--"
"Never mind what you want, it's what you're going to
have," said Mrs. Belling rising with determination and
moving towards the door. "And you tell Amelia Curtis
from me that she's to look after you and see you take
your food proper and see you don't fret."
"You are kind," said Emily.
"And what's more I shall keep my eyes and ears open
102
Murder at Hazelmoor
down here," said Mrs. Belling entering with relish into
her part of the romance. "There's many a little thing that
I hear that never goes to the police. And anything I do
hear I'll pass on to you, Miss."
"Will you really?"
"That I will. Don't ee worry, my dear, we'll have your
young gentleman out of his trouble in no time."
"I must go and pack," said Emily rising.
"I'll send the tea up to you," said Mrs. Belling.
Emily went upstairs, packed her few belongings into
her suitcase, sponged her eyes with cold water and ap-plied
a liberal allowance of powder.
"You have made yourself look a sight," she apostro-phized
herself in the glass. She added more powder and
a touch of rouge.
"Curious," said Emily, "how much better I feel. It's
worth the puffy look."
She rang the bell. The chambermaid (the sympathetic
sister-in-law of Constable Graves) came promptly. Emily
presented her with a pound note and begged her ear-nestly
to pass on any information she might acquire in
roundabout ways from police circles. The girl promised
readily.
"Mrs. Curtis's up to Sittaford? I will indeed, Miss. Do
anything that I will. We all feel for you, Miss, more than
I can say. All the time I keep saying to myself, 'Just fancy
if it was you and Fred,' I keep saying. I would be
distracted--that I would. The least thing I hears I'll pass
it on to you, Miss."
"You angel," said Emily.<
br />
"Just like a sixpenny I got at Woolworth's the other
m3
Agatha Christie
day, The Syringa Murders it was called. And do you
know what led them to find the real murderer, Miss?
Just a bit of common sealing wax. Your gentleman is
good-looking, Miss, isn't he? Quite unlike his picture in
the papers. I'm sure I'll do anything I can, Miss, for you
and for him."
Thus the center of romantic attention, Emily left the
Three Crowns having duly gulped down the cup of tea
prescribed by Mrs. Belling.
"By the way," she said to Enderby as the aged Ford
sprang forward, "you are my cousin, don't forget."
"Why?"
"They've got Slch pure minds in the country," said
Emily. "I thought it would be better."
"Splendid. In that case," said Mr. Enderby rising to
his opportunities, "I had better call you Emily."
"All right, cousin--what's your name?"
"Charles."
Christie,Agatha - Murder At Hazelmore.doc Page 11
