little Slovak.
Harold determined that he would set about learning German. He decided
to btly some text books and spend a cotil:)Ie of hours each morning in
mastering the language.
The morning was fine and after writing some letters Harold looked at his
watch and saw that there was still time for an hour's stroll before
lunch. He went down toward the lake and then turned aside into the pine
woods. He had walked there for perhaps five minutes when he heard an
unnstakable sound. Somewhere, not far away, a woman was sobbing her
heart out.
Harold paused a nnute, then went in the direction of the sotd. The
woman was Elsie Clayton and she was sitting on a fallen tree with her
face buried in her hands
and her shoulders quivering with the violence of her grief.
Harold hesitated a minute, then he came up to her.
He said gently, "Mrs. Clayton-Elsie?"
She started violently and looked up at him. Harold sat down beside her.
He said with real sympathy, "Is there anything I can do?
Anything at all?"
She shook her head.
"No-no-you're very kind. But there's nothing that anyone can do for
me."
Harold said rather diffidently, "Is it to do with-your husband?"
She nodded. Then she wiped her eyes and took ovit her powder compact,
struggling to regain command of herself.
She said in a quavering voice, "I didn't want Mother to worry. She's so
upset when she sees me unhappy. So I came out here to have a good cry.
It's silly, I know. Crying doesn't help. But-sometimes-one just feels
that life is quite unbearable."
Harold said, "I'm terribly sorry."
She threw him a grateful glance. Then she said hurriedly, "It's my own
fault, of course. I married Philip of my own free will. It-it's turned
out badly, I've only myself to blame."
Harold said, "It's very plucky of you to put it like that."
Elsie shook her head. "No, I'm not plucky. I'm not brave at all. I'm
an awful coward. That's partly the trouble with Philip. I'm terrified
of him-absolutely terrilied-when he gets in one of his rages."
Harold said with feeling, "You ought to leave himl"
"I daren't. He-he wouldn't let me."
"Nonsense! What about a divorce?"
She shook her head slowly. "I've no grounds." She straightened her
shoulders. "No, I've got to carry on.
I spend a fair amount of time with Mother, you know.
Philil.) doesn't mind that. Especially when we go somewhere off the
beaten track like this."
She added, the color rising in her cheeks, "You see, part of the trouble
is Lbat he's insanely jealous. If-if I so much as speak to another man
he makes the most frightful scenes."
Harold's indignation rose. He had heard many women complain of the
jealousy of a liusband, and while professing sympathy, had been secretly
of the opinion that the husl)an(I was amply justified. But Elsie
Clayton was not one of those women. She had never thrown him so much as
a flirtatious glance.
Elsie drew away from him with a slight shiver. She glanced up at the
sky.
"'I'lie sun's gone in. It's quite cold. We'd better get back to the
hotel. It must be nearly lunch time."
They got up and turned in the direction of the hotel.
They had walked for perhaps a minute when they overtook a figure going
in the same direction. They recognized her by the flapping cloak she
wore. It was one of the Polish sisters.
They passed her, Harold bowing slightly. She made no response but her
eyes rested on them both for a minute an(i there was a certain
appraising quality in the glance which made Harold feel suddenly hot. He
wondered if the woman had seen him sitting by Elsie on the tree trunk.
if so, she probably thought ...
Well, she looked as though she thought ... A wave of incligriation
overwhelmed himl What foul minds some women hadl
Odd that the sun had gone in and that they should both have
shivered-perhaps just at the moment that that woman was watching
them....
Somehow, Harold felt a little uneasy.
That evening, Harold went to his room a little after ten. -Ihe English
mail had arrived and he had received a number of letters, some of which
needed -aediate answers.
He got into pajamas and a dressing-gown and sat down at the desk to deal
with his correspondence. He had
written three letters and was just starting on the fourth when the door
was suddenly flung open and Elsie Clayton staggered into the room.
Harold jumped up, startled. Elsie had pushed the door to behind her and
was standing clutching at the chest of drawers. Her breath was coming
in great gasps, her face was the color of chalk. She looked frightened
to death.
Slie gasped out, "It's my husband! He arrived unexpectedly. I-I think
he'll kill me. He's mad-quite mad.
I came to you. Don't-don't let him find me."
She took a step or two forward, swaying so much that she almost fell.
Harold put out an arm to support her.
As he did so, the door was flung open and a man stood in the doorway. He
was of medium height with thick eyebrows and a sleek dark head. In his
hand he carried a heavy car wrench. His voice rose high and shook with
rage. He almost screamed the words:
"So that Polish woman was rightl You are carrying on with this fellowl"
Elsie cried, "No, no, Philip. It's not true. You're wrong."
Harold thrust the girl swiftly behind him, as Philip Clayton advanced on
them both. -I'he latter cried:
"Wrong, am I? When I find you here in his room? You she-devil, I'll
kill you for this."
With a swift sideways movement he dodged Harold's arm. Elsie, with a
cry, ran round the other side of Harold, who swung round to fend the
other off.
But Philip Clayton had only one idea, to get at his wife.
He swerved round again. Elsie, terrified, rushed out of the room.
Philip Clayton dashed after her, and Harold, with not a moment's
hesitation, followed him.
Elsie had darted back into her own bedroom at the end of the corridor.
Harold could hear the sound of the key turning in the lock, but it did
not turn in time. Before the lock could catch Philip Clayton wrenched
the door open. He (lisal)peared into the rooin and Harold heard Elsie's
frightened cry. In another minute Harold burst in after them.
Elsie was standing at bay against the curtains of the
window. As Harold entered Philip Clayton rushed at her, brandishing the
wrench. She gave a terrified cry, then, snatching up a heavy
paperweight from the desk beside her, she flung it at him.
Clayton went down like a log. Elsie screamed. Harold stopped,
petrified, in the doorway. The girl fell on her knees beside her
husband. He lay quite still where he had fallen.
Outside in the passage there was the sound of the bolt of one of the
doors being drawn back. Elsie jumped up and ran to Harold.
"Please-please-" Her voice was low and breathless.
"Go back to your r
oom. They'll come-they'll find you here."
Harold nodded. He took in the situation like lightning. For the
moment, Philip Clayton was hors de combat.
But Elsie's scream might have been heard. If he were found in her room
it could only cause embarrassment and misunderstanding. Both for her
sake and his own there must be no scandal.
As noiselessly as possible, he sprinted down the passage and back into
his room. just as he reached it, he heard the sound of an opening door.
He sat in his room for nearly half an hour, waiting.
He dared not go out. Sooner or later, he felt sure, Elsie would come.
There was a light tap on his door. Harold jumped up to open it.
It was not Elsie who came in but her mother and Harold was aghast at her
appearance. She looked suddenly years older. Her gray hair was
disheveled and there were deep black circles under her eyes.
He sprang up and helped her to a chair. She sat down, her breath coming
1),ainfully.
Harold said quickly, "You look all in, Mrs. Rice. Can I get you
something?"
She shook her head. "No. Never mind me. I'm all right, re,.tlly. It's
only the shock. Mr. Waring, a terrible thing has lizil),petied."
Harold asked, "Is Clayton seriously injured?"
She caught her breath. "Worse than that. He's dead."
The room spun round.
A feeling of icy water trickling down his spine rendered Harold
incal-)able of speech for a moment or two.
He repeated dully, "Dead?"
Mrs. Rice nodded.
She said, and lier voice had the flat level tones of complete
exhaustion, "The corner of that ni,-ti,])Ie ));Il)erweight (-atight ln
right on the teinl)le zin(I lie fell 1);ick with his liea(i on the iron
fender. I (ion't know ix.I(-Ii it was th;it killed Im-])ut he is
certainly dead. I have seen de;itli often enotig to kdow."
Disaster-that was the word that rang insistently in Harold's I)ra.
Disaster, disaster, disaster....
He said veliemetly, "It was an accident. I saw it happen."
Mrs. Rice said sharply, "Of course it was an accident.
I know that. Bttt-l)tit-is anyone else going to tillk so?
I'm-frankly, I'm frightened, Harold! -I'Is isn't Egl;tnd."
Harold said slowly, "I can confirm Elsie's stoi-v."
Mrs. Rice said, "Yes, and she can confirm yours. Thiatthat is just
itl"
Harold's brain, naturally a keen and cautions one, saw her point. He
reviewed the, %,Iiole thing and apl)recialed the weakness of their
])osition.
He and Elsie had spent a good deal of their time together. -Then there
was the I'act tlt they liz)(I been seell together in the pine woodsby
one of the l'olisli NA-oillen tinder rather coinpi-osing
cir(:tinist;tn(:es. -I'lie l'olisli ladies al)l)arently spoke no
Etiglisli, but they nligilt fievertheless uderstatid it a little.
-I-lie y-..onia ,,Iit li:we known the nieang of wor(ts like
"je,,Ilotisy" and "husband" if she lizi(i clizlceci to overhear tlicir
conversation. Anyway, it w;is (:Icir that it, ,.as soletlllg she lia(i
said to Cl;tyto tli;it lia(i al-otised Is je;ilotisy. (I nowIs death.
YVe Clayton li;i(l (lic(l, lie, Hai-ol(l, l(l been in Elsie Clayton's,
ooiji. There w.,is tiotlling to show that
he had not deliberately assaulted I'Ilip Claylf2n with the
1);iperweight. Nothing to show that the jealous husband ha(i not
actually fottd they-n together. There was only Is word and Elsie's.
Would they be believed?
A cold fear gripped him.
He did not imagine-no, he really did not imaginethat either he or Elsie
was in danger of being con(leinned to death for a murder they had not
committed. Srely, in any case, it could be only a charge of
manslaughter brotight against them. (Did they have mansialighter in
these foreign countries?) But even if they were acquitted of I)Iame
thei-e would have to be an inquiry-it would be reported in ;ill the
1);il)ers. An English man and woman accuse(I-jealotis litisl)and-rising
politician. Yes, it would me;tn the e(i of Is political career. IL
would never survive a scandal like that.
He s;tid on a impulse, "Can't we get rid of the body somehow? Plant it
somewhere?"
Mrs. Rice's astonished and scornful look made him blush.
She said incisively, "My dear Harold, this isn't a detective storyl To
attempt a thing like that would be quite crazy."
"I suppose it would." He groaned. "What can we do?
My Go(l, what can we do?"
Mrs. Rice shook her head despairingly. She was frowning, her (I
working 1)ainfully.
Harold demanded, "Isn't there anything we can do?
Anything to avoid this frightful disaster?"
There, it was out-disasterl Terrible-unforseen-utterly daing.
They stared at each other.
Mrs. Rice said lioarsely, "Elsie-my little girl. I'd do anything. . .
. It will kill lier if she lias to go through a tlng like this." And
she added, "You, too' your careerevei,ytlng."
Harold managed to say, "Never mind me."
But he did not really mean it.
Mi-s. Rice went on bitterly: "And all so unfair-so
utterly untruel It's not as though there had ever been anything between
you. I know that well enough."
Harold suggested, catching at a straw, "You'll be able to say that at
least-that it was all perfectly all right."
Mrs. Rice said bitterly, "Yes, if they believe me. But you know what
these people out here are likel"
Harold agreed gloomily. To the Continental mind, there would
undoubtedly be a guilty connection between himself and Elsie, and all
Mrs. Rice's denials would be taken as a mother lying herself black in
the face for her daughter.
Harold said gloomily, "Yes, we're not in England, worse luck."
"Ahl" Mrs. Rice lifted her head. "That's true. It's not England. I
wonder now if something could be done-"
"Yes?" Harold looked at her eagerly.
Mrs. Rice said abruptly, "How much money have you got?"
"Not much with me." He added, "I could wire for money, of course."
Mrs. Rice said grimly, "We may need a good deal. But I think it's
worth trying."
Harold felt a faint lifting of despair.
He said, "What is your idea?"
Mrs. Rice spoke decisively. "We haven't a 'chance of concealing the
death ourselves, but I do think there's just a chance of hushing it up
officially!"
"You really think so?" Harold was hopeful but slightly incredulous.
"Yes, for one thing the manager of the hotel will be on our side. He'd
much rather have the tlng liuslie(I up.
It's my opinion that in these out-of-the-way, clirioils little Balkan
countries you can bribe anyone an(i everyoneajid the police are probably
more corrupt than anyone else! "
Harold said slowly, "Do you know, I believe you're right."
Mrs. Rice went on: "Fortunately, I don't think anyone in the hotel
heard anything."
"Who has the room next to Elsie's on the other side from yours?"
"The two Polish ladies. They didn't hear anything.
They'd
have come out into the passage if they had. Philip arrived late,
nobody saw him but the night porter. Do you know, Harold, I believe it
will be possible to hush the whole thing up-and get Philip's death
certified as due to natural causest It's just a question of bribing high
enough-and finding the right man-probably the Chief of Policel"
Harold smiled faintly. He said, "It's rather comic-opera, isn't it?
Well, after all, we can but try."
Mrs. Rice was energy personified. First, the manager was summoned.
Harold remained in his room, keeping out of it. He and Mrs. Rice had
agreed that the story told had better be that of a quarrel between
husband and wife. Elsie's youth and prettiness would command more
sympathy.
On the following morning various police officials arrived and were shown
up to Mrs. Rice's bedroom. They left at midday. Harold had wired for
money but otherwise had taken no part in the proceedings-indeed he would
have been unable to do so since none of these official personages spoke
English.
At twelve o'clock Mrs. Rice came to his room. She looked white and
tired, but the relief on her face told- its own story.
She said simply, "It's workedl"
"Thank heavenl You've really been marvelousl It seems incredible!"
Mrs. Rice said thoughtfully, "By the ease with which it went, you might
almost think it was quite normal.
They practically held out their hands right away. It'sit's rather
disgusting, reallyl"
Harold said (tryly, "This isn't the moment to quarrel with the
corruption of the public services. How much?"
"The tariff's rather high."
She read out a list of figures.
The Chief of Police
The Superintendent
The Agent
The Doctor
The Hotel Manager
The Night Porter
Harold's comment was merely: "The night porter doesn't get much, does
he? I suppose it's mostly a question of gold lace."
Mrs. Itice explained, "The manager stipulated that the death sliotild
not have taken I)I;ice in Is hotel at all. The offi( -, tl story will
be that Philil) lia(l a lie;ti-t att,.I(:k in the train. He wetit along
the corridor for air-yon kiloxi! how they always leave those dooi-s
ol-)en-an(I lie fell otit on the line. It's wonderful what the police
can do wlie they try I
"Well," said Harold. "Thank God our police force isn't like that."
And in a British and superior mood he went down to lunch.
After lunch Harold usually joined Mrs. Rice and her daughter for
coffee. He decided to make no change in his ustial beliavior.
This was the first time he had seen Elsie since the night before. Slie
was very pale and was obviously still suffering from shock, but she made
a gallant endeavor to beli;tve as usual, uttering small commonplaces
about the weather and the scenery.
They conented on a new guest who had just arrived, trying to guess Is
nationality. Harold thotight a ilitistaclie like that must be
French-Elsie said Geran-and Mrs. Rice thought lie might be Spanish.
There was no one else but themselves on the terrace with the exception
of the two Polish ladies wlio were sitting at the extreme end, both
doing fancy work.
As always when he saw them, Haroltl felt ;(Itieer shiver of apprehension
pass over him. Those still faces, those
curved beaks of noses, those long clawlike hands ...
A page boy approached and told Mrs. Rice she was wanted. She rose and
Mrs McGinty's Dead / the Labours of Hercules (Agatha Christie Collected Works) Page 13
