Ordeal by Innocence

by Agatha Christie

  Philip looked at her, his head slightly on one side.

  "So that's your story," he said. "And you're sticking to it. A very creditable attempt. But you don't believe it yourself, do you, Kirsty?"

  "I've warned you," said Kirsten, "I can't do more."

  She turned away, then popped her head in again to say in her usual matter-of-fact voice: "Tell Mary I have put the clean washing away in the second drawer there."

  Philip smiled a little at the anti-climax, then the smile died away...

  His sense of inner excitement grew. He had a feeling he was getting very near indeed. His experiment with Kirsten had been highly satisfactory, but he doubted that he would get any more out of her. Her solicitude for him irritated him. Just because he was a cripple did not mean that he was as vulnerable as she made out. He, too, could be on his guard - and for heaven's sake, wasn't he watched over incessantly? Mary hardly ever left his side.

  He drew a sheet of paper towards him and began to write. Brief notes, names, question marks A vulnerable spot to probe...

  Suddenly he nodded his head and wrote: "Tina..."

  He thought about it...

  Then he drew another sheet of paper towards him.

  When Mary came in, he hardly looked up.

  "What are you doing, Philip?"

  "Writing a letter."

  "To Hester?"

  "Hester? No. I don't even know where she's staying. Kirsty just had a postcard from her with London written at the top, that was all."

  He grinned at her.

  "I believe you're jealous, Polly. Are you?"

  Her eyes, blue and cold, looked into his.

  "Perhaps."

  He felt a little uncomfortable.

  "Who are you writing to?" She came a step nearer.

  "The Public Prosecutor," said Philip cheerfully, though within him a cold anger stirred. Couldn't a fellow write a letter, even, without being questioned about it?

  Then he saw her face and he relented.

  "Only a joke, Polly. I'm writing to Tina."

  "To Tina? Why?"

  "Tina's my next line of attack. Where are you going, Polly?"

  "To the bathroom," said Mary as she went out of the room.

  Philip laughed. To the bathroom, as on the night of the murder... He laughed again as he remembered their conversation about it.

  II

  "Come on, sonny," said Superintendent Huish encouragingly. "Let's hear all about it."

  Master Cyril Green took a deep breath. Before he could speak, his mother interposed.

  "As you might say, Mr. Huish, I didn't take much notice at the time. You know what these children are. Always talking and thinking about space ships and things. And he comes home to me and he says, 'Mum, I've seen a sputnik, it's come down.' Well, I mean, before that it was flying saucers. It's always something. It's these Russians that go putting things into their heads."

  Superintendent Huish sighed and thought how much easier it would be if mothers would not insist on accompanying their sons and talking for them.

  "Come on, Cyril," he said, "you went home and told your Mum - that's right, isn't it? - that you'd seen this Russian sputnik - whatever it was."

  "Didn't know no better then," said Cyril. "I was only a kid then. That's two years ago. Course, I know better now."

  "Them bubble cars," his mother put in, "was quite new at the time. There hadn't been one about locally, so naturally when he saw it - and bright red too – he didn't realise as it was just an ordinary car. And when we heard the next morning as Mrs. Argyle had been done in, Cyril he says to me, 'Mum,' he says, 'it's them Russians,' he says, 'they come down in that sputnik of theirs and they must have got in and killed her.' 'Don't talk such nonsense,' I said. And then of course later in the day we hear her own son has been arrested for having done it"

  Superintendent Huish addressed himself patiently once more to Cyril. "It was in the evening, I understand? What time, do you remember?"

  "I'd had me tea," said Cyril, breathing hard in the effort of remembrance, "and Mum was out at the Institute, so I went out again a bit with the boys and we larked around a bit up that way down the new road."

  "And what was you doing there, I'd like to know," his mother put in.

  P.Ñ Good, who'd brought in this promising piece of evidence, interposed. He knew well enough what Cyril and the boys had been doing down the new road. The disappearance of chrysanthemums had been angrily reported from several householders there, and he knew well enough that the bad characters of the village surreptitiously encouraged the younger generation to supply them with flowers which they themselves took to market. This was not the moment, P.C. Good knew, to go into past cases of delinquency. He said heavily: "Boys is boys, Mrs. Green, they gets larking around."

  "Yes," said Cyril, "just having a game or two, we were. And that's where I saw it. 'Coo,' I said, 'what's this?' Of course I know now. I'm not a silly kid any longer. It was just one of them bubble cars. Bright red, it was."

  "And the time?" said Superintendent Huish patiently.

  "Well, as I say, I'd had me tea an' we'd gone out there and larked around - must have been near on seven o'clock, because I heard the clock strike and 'Coo,' I thought, 'Mum'llbehome and won't she create if I'm not there.' So I went home. I told her then that I thought I'd seen that Russian satellite come down. Mum said it were all lies, but it wasn't. Only o' course, I knows better now. I was just a kid then, see."

  Superintendent Huish said that he saw. After a few more questions he dismissed Mrs. Green and her offspring. P.C. Good, remaining behind, put on the gratified expression of a junior member of the force who has shown intelligence and hopes that it will count in his favour.

  "It just come to me," said Good, "what that boy'd been around saying about Russians doing Mrs. Argyle in. I thought to myself, 'Well, that may mean something.'"

  "It does mean something," said the superintendent. "Miss Tina Argyle has a red bubble car, and it looks as though I'd have to ask her a few more questions."

  Ill

  "You were there that night, Miss Argyle?"

  Tina looked at the superintendent. Her hands lay loosely in her lap, her eyes, dark, unwinking, told nothing.

  "It is so long ago," she said, "really I cannot remember." "Your car was seen there," said Huish. "Was it?"

  "Come now, Miss Argyle. When we asked you for an account of your movements on that night, you told us that you went home and didn't go out that evening. You made yourself supper and listened to the gramophone. Now, that isn't true. Just before seven o'clock your car was seen in the road quite near to Sunny Point. What were you doing there?"

  She did not answer. Huish waited a few moments, then he spoke again. "Did you go into the house, Miss Argyle?" "No," said Tina. "But you were there." "You say I was there."

  "It's not just a question of my saying so. We've got evidence that you were there."

  Tina sighed.

  "Yes," she said. "I did drive out there that evening."

  "But you say you didn't go into the house?" "No, I didn't go into the house." "What did you do?"

  "I drove back again to Redmyn. Then, as I told you, I made myself some supper and put on the gramophone."

  "Why did you drive out there if you didn't go into the house?"

  "I changed my mind," said Tina.

  "What made you change your mind, Miss Argyle?"

  "When I got there I didn't want to go in."

  "Because of something you saw or heard?"

  She did not answer.

  "Listen, Miss Argyle. That was the night that your mother was murdered. She was killed between seven and half past that evening. You were there, your car was there, at some time before seven. How long it was there we do not know. It is possible, you know, that it may have been there for some time. It may be that you went into the house - you have a key, I think."

  "Yes," said Tina, "I have a key."

  "Perhaps you went into the house. Perhaps you went into yo
ur mother's sitting-room and found her there, dead. Or perhaps -"

  Tina raised her head.

  "Or perhaps I killed her? Is that what you want to say, Superintendent Huish?"

  "It is one possibility," said Huish, "but I think it's more likely, Miss Argyle, someone else did the killing. If so, I think you know - or have a very strong suspicion who the killer was."

  "I did not go into the house," said Tina.

  "Then you saw something or heard something. You saw someone go into the house or someone leave the house. Someone perhaps who was not known to be there. Was it your brother Michael, Miss Argyle?"

  Tina said: "I saw nobody."

  "But you heard something," said Huish shrewdly. "What did you hear, Miss Argyle?"

  "I tell you," said Tina, "I simply changed my mind."

  "You'll forgive me, Miss Argyle, but I don't believe that. Why should you drive out from Redmyn to visit your family, and drive back again without seeing them? Something made you change your mind about that. Something you saw or heard." He leaned forward. "I think you know, Miss Argyle, who killed your mother."

  Very slowly she shook her head.

  "You know something," said Huish. "Something that you are determined not to tell. But think, Miss Argyle, think very carefully. Do you realise what you are condemning your entire family to go through? Do you want them all to remain under suspicion - for that's what's going to happen unless we get at the truth. Whoever killed your mother doesn't deserve to be shielded. For that's it, isn't it? You're shielding someone."

  Again that dark, opaque look met his.

  "I know nothing," said Tina. "I didn't hear anything and I didn't see anything. I just - changed my mind."

  Chapter 20

  Calgary and Huish looked at each other. Calgary saw what seemed to him one of the most depressed and gloomy-looking men he had ever seen. So profoundly disillusioned did he appear that Calgary felt tempted to suppose that Superintendent Huish's career had been one long series of failures. He was surprised to discover on a later occasion that Superintendent Huish had been extremely successful professionally. Huish saw a lean, prematurely grey-haired man with slightly stooping shoulders, a sensitive face and a singularly attractive smile.

  "You don't know who I am, I'm afraid," Calgary began.

  "Oh, we know all about you, Dr. Calgary," said Huish. "You're the joker in the pack who queered the Argyle case." A rather unexpected smile lifted the corners of his sad-looking mouth.

  "You can hardly regard me favourably then," said Calgary.

  "It's all in the day's work," said Superintendent Huish. "It seemed a clear case and nobody can be blamed for thinking it so. But these things happen," he went on. "They're sent to try us, so my old mother used to say. We don't bear malice, Dr. Calgary. After all, we do stand for Justice, don't we?"

  "So I've always believed, and shall continue to believe," said Calgary. "To no man will we deny justice," he murmured softly.

  "Magna Carta," said Superintendent Huish.

  "Yes," said Calgary, "quoted to me by Miss Tina Argyle."

  Superintendent Huish's eyebrows rose.

  "Indeed. You surprise me. That young lady, I should say, has not been particularly active in helping the wheels of justice to turn."

  "Now why do you say that?" asked Calgary.

  "Frankly," said Huish, "for withholding information. There's no doubt about that."

  "Why?" asked Calgary.

  "Well, it's a family business," said Huish. "Families stick together. But what was it you wanted to see me about?" he continued.

  "I want information," said Calgary. "About the Argyle case?"

  "Yes. I realise that I must seem to you to be butting in, in a matter that's not my concern -"

  "Well, it is your concern in a way, isn't it?

  "Ah, you do appreciate that. Yes. I feel responsible. Responsible for bringing trouble."

  "You can't make an omelette without breaking eggs, as the French say," said Huish.

  "There are things I want to know," said Calgary.

  "Such as?"

  "I'd like a great deal more information about Jacko Argyle."

  "About Jacko Argyle. Well, now, I didn't expect you to say that."

  "He'd got a bad record, I know," said Calgary. "What I want is a few details from it"

  "Well, that's simple enough," said Huish. "He'd been on probation twice. On another occasion, for embezzlement of funds, he was just saved by being able to put up the money in time."

  "The budding young criminal, in fact?" asked Calgary.

  "Quite right, sir," said Huish. "Not a murderer, as you've made clear to us, but a good many other things. Nothing, mind you, on a grand scale. He hadn't got the brains or the nerve to put up a big swindle. Just a small-time criminal. Pinching money out of tills, wheedling it out of women."

  "And he was good at that," said Calgary. "Wheedling money out of women, I mean."

  "And a very nice safe line it is," said Superintendent Huish. "Women fell for him very easily. Middle-aged or elderly were the ones he usually went for. You'd be surprised how gullible that type of woman can be. He put over a very pretty line. Got them to believe he was passionately in love with them. There's nothing a woman won't believe if she wants to."

  "And then?" asked Calgary. Huish shrugged his shoulders.

  "Well, sooner or later they were disillusioned. But they don't prosecute, you know. They don't want to tell the world that they've been fooled. Yes, it's a pretty safe line."

  "Was there ever blackmail?" Calgary asked.

  "Not that we know of," said Huish. "Mind you, I wouldn't have put it past him. Not out and out blackmail, I'd say. Just a hint or two, perhaps. Letters. Foolish letters. Things their husbands wouldn't like to know about. He'd be able to keep a woman quiet that way."

  "I see," said Calgary.

  "Is that all you wanted to know?" asked Huish.

  "There's one member of the Argyle family I haven't met yet," said Calgary. "The eldest daughter."

  "Ah, Mrs. Durrant."

  "I went to her house, but it was shut up. They told me she and her husband were away."

  "They are at Sunny Point." "Still there?"

  "Yes. He wanted to stay on. Mr. Durrant," added Huish, "is doing a bit of detecting, I understand."

  "He's a cripple, isn't he?"

  "Yes, polio. Very sad. He hasn't much to do with his time, poor chap. That's why he's taken up this murder business so eagerly. Thinks he's on to something, too."

  "And is he?" asked Calgary. Huish shrugged his shoulders.

  "He might be, at that," he said. "He's a better chance that we have, you know. He knows the family and he's a man with a good deal of intuition as well as intelligence."

  "Do you think he'll get anywhere?"

  "Possibly," said Huish, "but he won't tell us if he does. They'll keep it all in the family."

  "Do you yourself know who's guilty, Superintendent?" "You mustn't ask me things like that, Dr. Calgary." "Meaning that you do know?"

  "One can think one knows a thing," said Huish slowly, "but if you haven't got evidence there's not much you can do about it, is there?"

  "And you're not likely to get the evidence you want?"

  "Oh, we're very patient," Huish said. "We shall go on trying."

  "What's going to happen to them all if you don't succeed?" said Calgary, leaning forward. "Have you thought of that?"

  Huish looked at him.

  "That's what's worrying you, is it, sir?"

  "They've got to know," said Calgary. "Whatever else happens, they've got to know."

  "Don't you think they do know?"

  Calgary shook his head.

  "No," he said slowly, "that's the tragedy."

  II

  "Oo," said Maureen Clegg, "it's you again!"

  "I'm very, very sorry to bother you," said Calgary.

  "Oh, but you're not bothering me a bit. Come in. It's my day off."

  That fact Calgary had a
lready found out, and was the reason for his being here.