Really I'm inclined to believe in it myself. What other
explanation is there except that it was a genuine message
from a spirit?"
The Inspector shook his head. The table turning had
been his red herring. His next remark was most casual
sounding.
"Don't you find it very bleak here in winter, Mrs.
Willett?"
"Oh! we love it. Such a change. We're South AiYicans,
you know."
Agatha Christie
Her tone was brisk and ordinary.
"Really? What part of South Africa?"
"Oh! the Cape. Violet has never been in England be-fore.
She is enchanted with it--finds the snow most
romantic. This house is really most comfortable."
"What led you to come to this part of the world?"
There was just gentle curiosity in his voice.
"We've read so many books on Devonshire, and es-pecially
on Dartmoor. We were reading one on the
boat--all about Widdecombe Fair. I've always had a
hankering to see Dartmoor."
"What made you fix on Exhampton? It's not a very
well known little town."
"Well--we were reading these books as I told you,
and there was a boy on board who talked about
Exhampton--he was so enthusiastic about it."
"What was his name?" asked the Inspector. "Did he
come from this part of the world?"
"Now, what was his name? Cullen--I think. No--it
was Smythe. How stupid of me. I really can't remember.
You know how it is on board ship, Inspector, you get
to know people so well and plan to meet again--and
a week after you've landed, you can't even be sure of
their names!"
She laughed.
"But he was such a nice boy--not good-looking, red-dish
hair, but a delightful smile."
"And on the strength of that you decided to take a
house in these parts?" said the Inspector smiling.
"Yes, wasn't it mad of us?"
"Clever," thought Narracott. "Distinctly clever." He
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Murder at Hazelmoor
began to realise Mrs. Willett's methods. She always car-ried
the war into the enemy's country.
"So you wrote to the house agents and inquired about
a house?"
"Yes--and they sent us particulars of Sittaford. It
sounded just what we wanted."
"It wouldn't be my taste at this time of year," said the
Inspector with a laugh.
"I daresay it wouldn't be ours if we lived in England,"
said Mrs. Willett brightly.
The Inspector rose.
"How did you know the name of a house agent to write
to in Exhampton?" he asked. "That must have presented
a difficulty."
There was a pause. The first pause in the conversation.
He thought he caught a glimpse of vexation, more, of
anger in Mrs. Willett's eyes. He had hit upon something
to which she had not thought out the answer. She turned
towards her daughter.
"How did we, Violet? I can't remember."
There was a different look in the girl's eyes. She looked
frightened.
"Why, of course," said Mrs. Willett. "Delfridges. Their
information bureau. It's too wonderful. I always go and
inquire there about everything. I asked them the name
of the best agent here and they told me."
"Quick," thought the Inspector. "Very quick. But not
quite quick enough. I had you there, madam."
He made a cursory examination of the house. There
was nothing there. No papers, no locked drawers or
cupboards.
Agatha Christie
Mrs. Willett accompanied him talking brightly. He
took his leave, thanking her politely.
As he departed he caught a glimpse of the girl's face
over her shoulder. There was no mistaking the expression
on her face.
It was fear he saw on her countenance. Fear written
there plainly at this moment when she thought herself
unobserved.
Mrs. Willett was still talking.
"Alas. We have one grave drawback here. The domestic
problem, Inspector. Servants will not stand these
country places. All of mine have been threatening to
leave us for some time, and the news of the murder
seems to have unsettled them utterly. I don't know what
I shall do. Perhaps men servants would answer the case.
That is what the Registery Office in Exeter advised."
The Inspector answered mechanically. He was not listening
to her flow of talk. He was thinking of the expression
he had surprised on the girl's face.
Mrs. Willett had been clever--but not quite clever
enough.
He went away cogitating on his problem.
If the Willetts had nothing to do with Captain Trevelyan's
death, why was Violet Willett afraid?
He fired his last shot. With his foot actually over the
threshold of the front door he turned back.
"By the way," he said, "you know young Pearson, don't
you?"
There was no doubt of the pause this time. A dead
silence of about a second. Then Mrs. Willett spoke:
"Pearson?" she said. "I don't think--"
Murder at Hazelraoor
She was interrupted. A queer sighing breath came
from the room behind her and then the sound of a fall.
The Inspector was over the threshold and into the room
in a flash.
Violet Willett had fainted.
"Poor child," cried Mrs. Willett. "All this strain and
shock. That dreadful table turning business and the mur-der
on the top of it. She isn't strong. Thank you so much,
Inspector. Yes, on the sofa please. If you would ring the
bell. No, I don't think there is anything more you can
do. Thank you so much."
The Inspector went down the drive with his lips set
in a grim line.
Jim Pearson was engaged he knew, to that extremely
charming looking girl he had seen in London.
Why then should Violet Willett faint at the mention
of his name? What was the connection between Jim Pear-son
and the Willetts?
He paused indecisively as he emerged from the front
gate. Then he took from his pocket a small notebook. In
it was entered a list of the inhabitants of the six bungalows
built by Captain Trevelyan with a few brief remarks against
each name. Inspector Narracott's stubby forefinger paused
at the entry against No. 6 The Cottages.
"Yes," he said to himself. "I'd better see him next."
He strode briskly down the lane and beat a firm rat-tat
on the knocker of No. 6--the bungalow inhabited by
Mr. Duke.
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Visit to Major Burnaby
L E ^ O N G the way up the path to the Major's front
door, Mr. Enderby rapped upon it in a cheery fashion.
The door was flung open almost immediately and Major
Burnaby, red in the face, appeared on the threshold.
"It's you, is it?" he observed with no very great fervor
in his voice, and was about to go on in the same strain
when he caught sight of Emily and his expression altered.
"This is Mis
s Trefusis,' said Charles with the air of
one producing the aec of trumps. "She was very anxious
to see you."
"May I come in?" said Emily with her sweetest smile.
"Oh! yes. Certainly. Of course--Oh, yes, of course."
Stumbling in his speech the Major backed into the
living-room of his cottage and began pulling forward chairs
and pushing aside tables.
Emily, as was her fashion, came straight to the point.
"You see, Major Burnaby, I am engaged to Jim--Jim
Pearson, you know. And naturally I am terribly anxious
about him."
In the act of pushing a table the Major paused with
his mouth open.
"Oh dear," he said, "that's a bad business. My dear
young lady, I am more sorry about it than I can say."
"Major Burnaby, tell me honestly. Do you yourself
believe he is guilty? Oh, you needn't mind saying if you
120
Murder at Hazelmoor
do. I would a hundred times rather people didn't lie to
lYle."
"No, I do not think him guilty," said the Major in a
loud assertive voice. He hit a cushion once or twice
vigorously, and then sat down facing Emily. "The chap
is a nice young chap. Mind you, he might be a bit weak.
Don't be offended if I say that he's the kind of young
fellow that might easily go wrong if temptation came in
his way. But murder--no. And mind you, I know what
I am talking aloout--a lot of subalterns have passed through
my hands in my time. It's the fashion to poke fun at
retired army officers nowadays, but we know a thing or
two all the same, Miss Tre pounds sis.'
"I'm sure you do," said Emily. "I'm awfully grateful
to you for saying what you've done.'
"Have--have a whisky and soda?" said the Major. "I'm
afraid there's nothing else," he said apologetically.
"No, thank you, Major Burnaby."
"Some plain soda then?"
"No, thank you," said Emily.
"I ought to be able to produce tea," said the Major
with a touch of wistfulness.
"We've had it," said Charles. "At Mrs. Curtis's," he
added.
"Major Burnaby," said Emily, "Who do you think did
it,.have you any idea at all?"
No. I am damned--er--bother--if I have," said the
Major. "Took it for granted it was some chap that broke
in, but now the police say that can't be so. Well, it's
their job, and I suppose they know best. They say nobody
121
Agatha Christie
broke in, so I suppose nobody did break in. But all the
same it beats me, Miss Trefusis, Trevelyan hadn't an
enemy in the world as far as I know."
"And you would know if anybody did," said Emily.
"Yes, I suppose I knew more of Trevelyan than many
of his relations did."
"And you can't think of anything--anything that would
help, in any way?" asked Emily.
The Major pulled at his short mustache.
"I know what you're thinking. Like in books there
ought to be some little incident that I should remember
that would be a clue. Well, I'm sorry, but there isn't any
such thing. Trevelyan just led an ordinary normal life.
Got very few letters and wrote less. There were no fe-male
complications in his life, I am sure of that. No, it
beats me, Miss Trefusis."
All three were silent.
"What about that servant of his?" asked Charles.
"Been with him for years. Absolutely faithful."
"He had married lately," said Charles.
"Married a perfectly decent respectable girl."
"Major Burnaby," said Emily, "forgive me putting it
this way--but didn't you get the wind up rather easily
about him?"
The Major rubbed his nose with the embarrassed air
that always came over him when the table turning was
mentioned.
"Yes, there's no denying it, I did. I knew the whole
thing was tommy rot and yet--"
"You felt somehow it wasn't," said Emily helpfully.
The Major nodded.
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Murder at Hazelmoor
"Thaqs why I wonder--" said Emily.
The two men looked at her.
"I can't quite put what I mean in the way I want,"
said Emily. "What I mean is this: You say that you don't
believe in all this table turning business--and yet, in
spite of the awful weather and what must have seemed
to you the absurdity of the whole thing--you felt so
uneasy that you had to set out, no matter what the weather
conditions, and see for yourself that Captain Trevelyan
was all right. Well, don't you think that may have been
because--because there was something in the atmos-phere.
"I mean," she continued desperately as she saw no
trace of comprehension in the Major's face, "that there
was something in someone else's mind as well as yours.
And that somehow or other you felt it."
"Well, I don't know," said the Major. He rubbed his
nose again. "Of course," he added hopefully, "women
do take these things seriously."
"Women!" said Emily. "Yes," she murmured softly to
herself, "I believe somehow or other that's it."
She turned abruptly to Major Burnaby.
"What are they like, these Willetts?"
"Oh, well," Major Burnaby cast about in his mind, he
was clearly no good at personal descriptions "Well--they
are very kind you know--very helpful and all that."
"Why do they want to take a house like Sittaford House
at this time of year?"
"I can't imagine," said the Major. "Nobody does," he
added.
'"Don't you think it's very queer?" persisted Emily.
Agatha Christie
"Of course, it's queer. However, there's no accounting
for tastes. That's what the Inspector said."
"That's nonsense," said Emily. "People don't do things
without a reason."
"Well, I don't know," said Major Burnaby cautiously.
"Some people don't. You wouldn't, Miss Trefusis. But
some people--" He sighed and shook his head.
"You are sure they hadn't met Captain Trevelyan be-fore?"
The Major scouted the idea. Trevelyan would have
said something to him. No, he was as astonished himself
as anyone could be.
"So he thought it queer?"
"Of course, I've just told you we all did."
"What was Mrs. Willett's attitude towards Captain
Trevelyan?" asked Emily. "Did she try and avoid him?"
A faint chuckle came from the Major.
"No, indeed she didn't. Pestered the life out of him
--always asking him to come and see them."
"Oh!" said Emily thoughtfully. She paused and then
said, "So she might--just possibly she might have taken
Sittaford House just on purpose to get acquainted with
Captain Trevelyan."
"Well," the Major seemed to turn it over in his mind.
"Yes, I suppose she might have. Rather an expensive
way of doing things."
"I don't know," said Emily. "Captain Trevelyan wouldn't
have been an easy person to get to know otherwise."
"No, he wou
ldn't," agreed the late Captain Trevelyan's
friend.
"I wonder," said Emily.
24
Murder at Hazelmoor
"The Inspector thought of that too," said Burnaby.
Emily felt a sudden irritation against Inspector Narracott.
Everything that she thought of seemed to have
already been thought of by the Inspector. It was galling
to a young woman who prided herself on being sharper
than other people.
She rose and held out her hand.
"Thank you very much," she said simply.
"I wish I could help you more," said the Major. "I'm
rather an obvious sort of person--always have been. If
I were a clever chap I might be able to hit upon something
that might be a clue. At any rate count on me for
anything you want."
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