Murder in the Mews. Agatha ChristieЧитать онлайн книгу.
a bit gaga as they say, sir,’ suggested Inspector Jameson. ‘Ah well, age will tell.’
‘All the same,’ said Japp, ‘I wish I knew what he was up to.’
He walked over to the writing-table and stared uneasily at an emerald green quill pen.
Japp was just engaging his third chauffeur’s wife in conversation when Poirot, walking noiselessly as a cat, suddenly appeared at his elbow.
‘Whew, you made me jump,’ said Japp. ‘Got anything?’
‘Not what I was looking for.’
Japp turned back to Mrs James Hogg.
‘And you say you’ve seen this gentleman before?’
‘Oh, yes sir. And my husband too. We knew him at once.’
‘Now look here, Mrs Hogg, you’re a shrewd woman, I can see. I’ve no doubt that you know all about everyone in the mews. And you’re a woman of judgment—unusually good judgment, I can tell that—’ Unblushingly he repeated this remark for the third time. Mrs Hogg bridled slightly and assumed an expression of superhuman intelligence. ‘Give me a line on those two young women—Mrs Allen and Miss Plenderleith. What were they like? Gay? Lots of parties? That sort of thing?’
‘Oh, no sir, nothing of the kind. They went out a good bit—Mrs Allen especially—but they’re class, if you know what I mean. Not like some as I could name down the other end. I’m sure the way that Mrs Stevens goes on—if she is a Mrs at all which I doubt—well I shouldn’t like to tell you what goes on there—I—’
‘Quite so,’ said Japp, dexterously stopping the flow. ‘Now that’s very important what you’ve told me. Mrs Allen and Miss Plenderleith were well liked, then?’
‘Oh yes, sir, very nice ladies, both of them—especially Mrs Allen. Always spoke a nice word to the children, she did. Lost her own little girl, I believe, poor dear. Ah well, I’ve buried three myself. And what I say is—’
‘Yes, yes, very sad. And Miss Plenderleith?’
‘Well, of course she was a nice lady too, but much more abrupt if you know what I mean. Just go by with a nod, she would, and not stop to pass the time of day. But I’ve nothing against her—nothing at all.’
‘She and Mrs Allen got on well together?’
‘Oh, yes sir. No quarrelling—nothing like that. Very happy and contented they were—I’m sure Mrs Pierce will bear me out.’
‘Yes, we’ve talked to her. Do you know Mrs Allen’s fiancé by sight?’
‘The gentleman she’s going to marry? Oh, yes. He’s been here quite a bit off and on. Member of Parliament, they do say.’
‘It wasn’t he who came last night?’
‘No, sir, it was not.’ Mrs Hogg drew herself up. A note of excitement disguised beneath intense primness came into her voice. ‘And if you ask me, sir, what you are thinking is all wrong. Mrs Allen wasn’t that kind of lady, I’m sure. It’s true there was no one in the house, but I do not believe anything of the kind—I said so to Hogg only this morning. “No, Hogg,” I said, “Mrs Allen was a lady—a real lady—so don’t go suggesting things”—knowing what a man’s mind is, if you’ll excuse my mentioning it. Always coarse in their ideas.’
Passing this insult by, Japp proceeded:
‘You saw him arrive and you saw him leave—that’s so, isn’t it?’
‘That’s so, sir.’
‘And you didn’t hear anything else? Any sounds of a quarrel?’
‘No, sir, nor likely to. Not, that is to say, that such things couldn’t be heard—because the contrary to that is well known—and down the other end the way Mrs Stevens goes for that poor frightened maid of hers is common talk—and one and all we’ve advised her not to stand it, but there, the wages is good—temper of the devil she may have but pays for it—thirty shillings a week …’
Japp said quickly:
‘But you didn’t hear anything of the kind at No. 14?’
‘No, sir. Nor likely to with fireworks popping off here, there and everywhere and my Eddie with his eyebrows singed off as near as nothing.’
‘This man left at ten-twenty—that’s right, is it?’
‘It might be, sir. I couldn’t say myself. But Hogg says so and he’s a very reliable, steady man.’
‘You actually saw him leave. Did you hear what he said?’
‘No, sir. I wasn’t near enough for that. Just saw him from my window, standing in the doorway talking to Mrs Allen.’
‘See her too?’
‘Yes, sir, she was standing just inside the doorway.’
‘Notice what she was wearing?’
‘Now really, sir, I couldn’t say. Not noticing particularly as it were.’
Poirot said:
‘You did not even notice if she was wearing day dress or evening dress?’
‘No, sir, I can’t say I did.’
Poirot looked thoughtfully up at the window above and then across to No. 14. He smiled and for a moment his eye caught Japp’s.
‘And the gentleman?’
‘He was in a dark-blue overcoat and a bowler hat. Very smart and well set up.’
Japp asked a few more questions and then proceeded to his next interview. This was with Master Frederick Hogg, an impish-faced, bright-eyed lad, considerably swollen with self-importance.
‘Yes, sir. I heard them talking. “Think it over and let me know,” the gent said. Pleasant like, you know. And then she said something and he answered, “All right. So long.” And he got into the car—I was holding the door open but he didn’t give me nothing,’ said Master Hogg with a slight tinge of depression in his tone. ‘And he drove away.’
‘You didn’t hear what Mrs Allen said?’
‘No, sir, can’t say I did.’
‘Can you tell me what she was wearing? What colour, for instance?’
‘Couldn’t say, sir. You see, I didn’t really see her. She must have been round behind the door.’
‘Just so,’ said Japp. ‘Now look here, my boy, I want you to think and answer my next question very carefully. If you don’t know and can’t remember, say so. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Master Hogg looked at him eagerly.
‘Which of ’em closed the door, Mrs Allen or the gentleman?’
‘The front door?’
‘The front door, naturally.’
The child reflected. His eyes screwed themselves up in an effort of remembrance.
‘Think the lady probably did—No, she didn’t. He did. Pulled it to with a bit of a bang and jumped into the car quick. Looked as though he had a date somewhere.’
‘Right. Well, young man, you seem a bright kind of shaver. Here’s sixpence for you.’
Dismissing Master Hogg, Japp turned to his friend. Slowly with one accord they nodded.
‘Could be!’ said Japp.
‘There