Crooked House. Агата Кристи
‘How soon will you marry me?’
Her smile died. The something, whatever it was, was back.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure, Charles, that I can ever marry you.’
‘But, Sophia! Why not? Is it because you feel I’m a stranger? Do you want time to get used to me again? Is there someone else? No—’ I broke off. ‘I’m a fool. It’s none of those things.’
‘No, it isn’t.’ She shook her head. I waited. She said in a low voice:
‘It’s my grandfather’s death.’
‘Your grandfather’s death? But why? What earthly difference can that make? You don’t mean—surely you can’t imagine—is it money? Hasn’t he left any? But surely, dearest—’
‘It isn’t money.’ She gave a fleeting smile. ‘I think you’d be quite willing to “take me in my shift”, as the old saying goes. And grandfather never lost any money in his life.’
‘Then what is it?’
‘It’s just his death—you see, I think, Charles, that he didn’t just—die. I think he may have been—killed …’
I stared at her.
‘But—what a fantastic idea. What made you think of it?’
‘I didn’t think of it. The doctor was queer to begin with. He wouldn’t sign a certificate. They’re going to have a post-mortem. It’s quite clear that they suspect something is wrong.’
I didn’t dispute that with her. Sophia had plenty of brains; any conclusions she had drawn could be relied upon.
Instead I said earnestly:
‘Their suspicions may be quite unjustified. But putting that aside, supposing that they are justified, how does that affect you and me?’
‘It might under certain circumstances. You’re in the Diplomatic Service. They’re rather particular about wives. No—please don’t say all the things that you’re bursting to say. You’re bound to say them—and I believe you really think them—and theoretically I quite agree with them. But I’m proud—I’m devilishly proud. I want our marriage to be a good thing for everyone—I don’t want to represent one-half of a sacrifice for love! And, as I say, it may be all right …’
‘You mean the doctor—may have made a mistake?’
‘Even if he hasn’t made a mistake, it won’t matter—so long as the right person killed him.’
‘What do you mean, Sophia?’
‘It was a beastly thing to say. But, after all, one might as well be honest.’
She forestalled my next words.
‘No, Charles, I’m not going to say any more. I’ve probably said too much already. But I was determined to come and meet you tonight—to see you myself and make you understand. We can’t settle anything until this is cleared up.’
‘At least tell me about it.’
She shook her head.
‘I don’t want to.’
‘But—Sophia—’
‘No, Charles. I don’t want you to see us from my angle. I want you to see us unbiased from the outside point of view.’
‘And how am I to do that?’
She looked at me, a queer light in her brilliant blue eyes.
‘You’ll get that from your father,’ she said.
I had told Sophia in Cairo that my father was Assistant Commissioner of Scotland Yard. He still held that office. At her words, I felt a cold weight settling down on me.
‘It’s as bad as that, then?’
‘I think so. Do you see a man sitting at a table by the door all alone—rather a nice-looking stolid ex-Army type?’
‘Yes.’
‘He was on Swinly Dean platform this evening when I got into the train.’
‘You mean he’s followed you here?’
‘Yes. I think we’re all—how does one put it?—under observation. They more or less hinted that we’d all better not leave the house. But I was determined to see you.’ Her small square chin shot out pugnaciously. ‘I got out of the bathroom window and shinned down the water-pipe.’
‘Darling!’
‘But the police are very efficient. And of course there was the telegram I sent you. Well—never mind—we’re here—together … But from now on, we’ve both got to play a lone hand.’
She paused and then added:
‘Unfortunately—there’s no doubt—about our loving each other.’
‘No doubt at all,’ I said. ‘And don’t say unfortunately. You and I have survived a world war, we’ve had plenty of near escapes from sudden death—and I don’t see why the sudden death of just one old man—how old was he, by the way?’
‘Eighty-seven.’
‘Of course. It was in the Times. If you ask me, he just died of old age, and any self-respecting GP would accept the fact.’
‘If you’d known my grandfather,’ said Sophia, ‘you’d have been surprised at his dying of anything!’
I’d always taken a certain amount of interest in my father’s police work, but nothing had prepared me for the moment when I should come to take a direct and personal interest in it.
I had not yet seen the Old Man. He had been out when I arrived, and after a bath, a shave, and a change I had gone out to meet Sophia. When I returned to the house, however, Glover told me that he was in his study.
He was at his desk, frowning over a lot of papers. He jumped up when I came in.
‘Charles! Well, well, it’s been a long time.’
Our meeting, after five years of war, would have disappointed a Frenchman. Actually all the emotion of reunion was there all right. The Old Man and I are very fond of each other, and we understand each other pretty well.
‘I’ve got some whisky,’ he said. ‘Say when. Sorry I was out when you got here. I’m up to the ears in work. Hell of a case just unfolding.’
I leaned back in my chair and lit a cigarette.
‘Aristide Leonides?’ I asked.
His brows came down quickly over his eyes. He shot me a quick appraising glance. His voice was polite and steely.
‘Now what makes you say that, Charles?’
‘I’m right then?’
‘How did you know about this?’
‘Information received.’
The Old Man waited.
‘My information,’ I said, ‘came from the stable itself.’
‘Come on, Charles, let’s have it.’
‘You mayn’t like it,’ I said. ‘I met Sophia Leonides out in Cairo. I fell in love with her. I’m going to marry her. I met her tonight. She dined with me.’
‘Dined with you? In London? I wonder just how she managed to do that! The family was asked—oh, quite politely, to stay put.’
‘Quite so. She shinned down a pipe from the bathroom window.’
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