The Floating Admiral. Агата Кристи
time was that?”
“Just after 4.30 a.m., sir.”
“That means it left—or passed—the Vicarage at about 3.50 a.m.—only five minutes after the tide turned?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“Then that means that if it was set adrift from here or from the Vicarage it must have been only just before 3.45 a.m.—otherwise it couldn’t have got back to where Ware found it by the time it did. But it’s nearly light by 3.45—they wouldn’t have left it as late as that. It looks as if Appleton’s theory was the right one.”
Sergeant Appleton beamed, but P.C. Hempstead looked mulish. Rudge noticed the look.
“Out with it, Hempstead,” he said. “You’ve got a theory, I can see.”
“Well, sir, if I might make the suggestion, you’ve overlooked slack tide. For an hour or so before the turn the tide’s so slack that it’s barely running. It’s possible that a boat might fetch up against the bank for quite a time. My theory, as you know, sir, is that the body wasn’t in the boat long enough for the dew to make the clothes wet. I think it was set adrift from here about 2.30 or 3 a.m. If the person who did it was a stranger to the place he might not think of the river being tidal—he’d expect the boat to float straight out to sea. But what happened was that it floated a few hundred yards, and then, as the tide slackened, drifted into the bank; at 3.45, when the tide turned, it drifted off again and so floated up on the flow till it reached the spot where Neddy Ware found it at half past four.”
CHAPTER IV
By Agatha Christie
MAINLY CONVERSATION
“THAT’S a pretty good theory too,” said Rudge.
He always believed in being diplomatic with his inferiors. In this instance, nothing in his face showed which of the two theories struck him as being the right one.
He nodded his head once or twice and then rose to his feet. He looked behind him at the trees near the boat-house.
“There’s one thing that strikes me,” he said. “I wonder if there’s anything in it?”
Appleton and Hempstead looked at him enquiringly.
“In my conversation with the Vicar, he mentioned that he had seen Miss Fitzgerald’s white dress through the trees.”
“As she was going up to the house, sir—yes, I remember his saying that. Anything fishy about that, do you think, sir?”
“No, I imagine it’s perfectly possible. Miss Fitzgerald was wearing a white chiffon dress with a cream lace coat. If the Vicar saw the dress, then clearly she was not wearing any coat or cloak over it. After all, why should she? It was quite a warm night.”
“Yes, sir.”
Appleton looked puzzled.
“On the other hand, the Admiral, when he was found, was wearing a thick brown overcoat. Anything strike you as odd about that?”
“Well—yes, I suppose it is a little queer—that the lady shouldn’t have had anything warmer in the way of a wrap than a lace coat, and that the Admiral—yes, sir, I take your meaning.”
“I’m going to ask you, Sergeant, to take a boat across to the Vicarage and ask there if the Admiral was wearing a coat last night.”
“Right, sir.”
When the sergeant had departed, the Inspector turned to Hempstead.
“Now,” he said with a twinkle; “I’m going to ask you a question.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Who is the biggest talker in Whynmouth?”
P.C. Hempstead grinned in spite of himself.
“Mrs. Davis, sir, who keeps the Lord Marshall. Nobody else can get a word in edgeways when she’s about.”
“One of that kind, is she?”
“Yes, indeed, sir.”
“Well, that will just suit me. The Admiral was a new-comer to the place. There’s always talk about a new-comer. For ninety-nine false rumours, there will be one true thing that somebody has noticed and observed. Attention has been focussed on Rundel Croft. I want to know just what has transpired in village gossip.”
“Then it’s Mrs. Davis you want, sir.”
“I want to go over to West End too, and see Sir Wilfrid Denny. He seems to be the only person in the neighbourhood who knows anything about the murdered man. He might possibly know whether the Admiral had any enemies.”
“You think he was in hiding, sir?”
“Not exactly in hiding. He came here openly, under his own name. It’s not an unusual thing for a retired naval man to do. But the loaded revolver in the desk tells a tale. That’s not so usual. I could do with knowing a little more about Admiral Penistone’s career. Ah! here comes the sergeant back again.”
The sergeant, however, did not return alone. With him were the two boys from the Vicarage. Their eager, boyish faces were alight with curiosity.
“I say, Inspector,” cried Peter, “can’t we help in any way? Haven’t you got a job for us of any kind? Fancy old Penistone, of all people, to get murdered!”
“Why do you say ‘of all people,’ young gentleman?” enquired the Inspector.
“Oh! I don’t know.” The boy flushed. “He was so very—well, correct and nautical. All present and shipshape! Sort of old fellow who’d look at you if you forgot to call him ‘sir’ even once.”
“A martinet and a disciplinarian, eh?”
“I suppose that’s what I mean. Years behind the times.”
“I don’t think he was a bad old geezer,” said Alec tolerantly.
The Inspector turned to Appleton.
“What about the coat?”
“The Admiral, sir, was not wearing a coat when he came to dinner last night.”
“Rather not,” said Peter. “Just nip across the river and there you are. Why should he wear a coat? The Fitzgerald hadn’t got one either.”
“Wasn’t she sweet?” minced Alec. “All in white like a blushing bride. And old as the hills really.”
“Well,” said Rudge. “I must be getting along.”
“Oh, but, Inspector, what about us?”
Rudge smiled indulgently.
“Suppose you two young gentlemen have a look for the weapon,” he suggested. “It wasn’t in the wound. Somewhere along the river bank maybe. …”
He retreated, smiling to himself.
“That’ll keep ’em busy,” he said to himself. “And do no harm either. They might even come across it—stranger things have happened.”
As he got into his car and drove in the direction of Whynmouth, his brain worked busily. The evening paper was now accounted for. The Admiral must have returned to the house some time between ten o’clock and midnight, donned an overcoat and slipped the evening paper into his overcoat pocket. Then he had gone out again—where?
Had he taken the boat? Had he gone either up-stream or down-stream to keep some appointment? Had he walked to some house near by?
As yet, the whole thing was a mystery.
On arrival at Whynmouth, Rudge pulled up opposite the Lord Marshall Hotel.
The Lord Marshall prided itself on its old-world air. The hall was dark and narrow and an intending visitor was bewildered by finding no one to