The Unexpected Guest. Agatha Christie

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СКАЧАТЬ alert, brisk woman who looked like the ex-hospital nurse that she was, spoke somewhat officiously. ‘I really can’t see why you’re so upset, Laura. It’s just Richard amusing himself as usual. But I didn’t hear any shooting. I’m sure there’s nothing wrong. I think you’re imagining things. But he’s certainly very selfish and I shall tell him so. Richard,’ she called as she entered the study, ‘really, Richard, it’s too bad at this time of night. You frightened us–Richard!’

      Laura, wearing her dressing-gown, followed Miss Bennett into the room. As she switched on the lights and moved to the sofa, the boy Jan followed her. He looked at Miss Bennett who stood staring at Richard Warwick in his wheelchair. ‘What is it, Benny?’ asked Jan. ‘What’s the matter?’

      ‘It’s Richard,’ said Miss Bennett, her voice strangely calm. ‘He’s killed himself.’

      ‘Look,’ cried young Jan excitedly, pointing at the table. ‘Richard’s revolver’s gone.’

      A voice from outside in the garden called, ‘What’s going on in there? Is anything wrong?’ Looking through the small window in the recess, Jan shouted, ‘Listen! There’s someone outside!’

      ‘Outside?’ said Miss Bennett. ‘Who?’ She turned to the french windows and was about to draw back the curtain when Starkwedder suddenly appeared. Miss Bennett stepped back in alarm as Starkwedder came forward, asking urgently, ‘What’s happened here? What’s the matter?’ His glance fell on Richard Warwick in the wheelchair. ‘This man’s dead!’ he exclaimed. ‘Shot.’ He looked around the room suspiciously, taking them all in.

      ‘Who are you?’ asked Miss Bennett. ‘Where do you come from?’

      ‘Just run my car into a ditch,’ replied Starkwedder. ‘I’ve been lost for hours. Found some gates and came up to the house to try to get some help and telephone. Heard a shot, and someone came rushing out of the windows and collided with me.’ Holding out the gun, Starkwedder added, ‘He dropped this.’

      ‘Where did this man go?’ Miss Bennett asked him.

      ‘How the hell should I know in this fog?’ Starkwedder replied.

      Jan stood in front of Richard’s body, staring excitedly at it. ‘Somebody’s shot Richard,’ he shouted.

      ‘Looks like it,’ Starkwedder agreed. ‘You’d better get in touch with the police.’ He placed the gun on the table by the wheelchair, picked up the decanter, and poured brandy into a glass. ‘Who is he?’

      ‘My husband,’ said Laura, expressionlessly, as she went to sit on the sofa.

      With what sounded a slightly forced concern, Starkwedder said to her, ‘Here–drink this.’ Laura looked up at him. ‘You’ve had a shock,’ he added emphatically. As she took the glass, with his back turned to the others Starkwedder gave her a conspiratorial grin, to call her attention to his solution of the fingerprint problem. Turning away, he threw his hat on the armchair, and then, suddenly noticing that Miss Bennett was about to bend over Richard Warwick’s body, he swung quickly round. ‘No, don’t touch anything, madam,’ he implored her. ‘This looks like murder, and if it is then nothing must be touched.’

      Straightening up, Miss Bennett backed away from the body in the chair, looking appalled. ‘Murder?’ she exclaimed. ‘It can’t be murder!’

      Mrs Warwick, the mother of the dead man, had stopped just inside the door of the study. She came forward now, asking, ‘What has happened?’

      ‘Richard’s been shot! Richard’s been shot!’ Jan told her. He sounded more excited than concerned.

      ‘Quiet, Jan,’ ordered Miss Bennett.

      ‘What did I hear you say?’ asked Mrs Warwick, quietly.

      ‘He said–murder,’ Benny told her, indicating Starkwedder.

      ‘Richard,’ Mrs Warwick whispered, as Jan leaned over the body, calling, ‘Look–look–there’s something on his chest–a paper–with writing on it.’ His hand went out to it, but he was stopped by Starkwedder’s command: ‘Don’t touch–whatever you do, don’t touch.’ Then he read aloud, slowly, ‘“May–fifteen–paid in full”.’

      ‘Good Lord! MacGregor,’ Miss Bennett exclaimed, moving behind the sofa.

      Laura rose. Mrs Warwick frowned. ‘You mean,’ she said, ‘–that man–the father–the child that was run over–?’

      ‘Of course, MacGregor,’ Laura murmured to herself as she sat in the armchair.

      Jan went up to the body. ‘Look–it’s all newspaper–cut up,’ he said in excitement. Starkwedder again restrained him. ‘No, don’t touch it,’ he ordered. ‘It’s got to be left for the police.’ He stepped towards the telephone. ‘Shall I–?’

      ‘No,’ said Mrs Warwick firmly. ‘I will.’ Taking charge of the situation, and summoning her courage, she went to the desk and started to dial. Jan moved excitedly to the stool and knelt upon it. ‘The man that ran away,’ he asked Miss Bennett. ‘Do you think he–?’

      ‘Ssh, Jan,’ Miss Bennett said to him firmly, while Mrs Warwick spoke quietly but in a clear, authoritative voice on the telephone. ‘Is that the police station? This is Llangelert House. Mr Richard Warwick’s house. Mr Warwick has just been found–shot dead.’

      She went on speaking into the phone. Her voice remained low, but the others in the room listened intently. ‘No, he was found by a stranger,’ they heard her say. ‘A man whose car had broken down near the house, I believe…Yes, I’ll tell him. I’ll phone the inn. Will one of your cars be able to take him there when you’ve finished here?…Very well.’

      Turning to face the company, Mrs Warwick announced, ‘The police will be here as soon as they can in this fog. They’ll have two cars, one of which will return right away to take this gentleman’–she gestured at Starkwedder–‘to the inn in the village. They want him to stay overnight and be available to talk to them tomorrow.’

      ‘Well, since I can’t leave with my car still in the ditch, that’s fine with me,’ Starkwedder exclaimed. As he spoke, the door to the corridor opened, and a dark-haired man of medium height in his mid-forties entered the room, tying the cord of his dressing-gown. He suddenly stopped short just inside the door. ‘Is something the matter, madam?’ he asked, addressing Mrs Warwick. Then, glancing past her, he saw the body of Richard Warwick. ‘Oh, my God,’ he exclaimed.

      ‘I’m afraid there’s been a terrible tragedy, Angell,’ Mrs Warwick replied. ‘Mr Richard has been shot, and the police are on their way here.’ Turning to Starkwedder, she said, ‘This is Angell. He’s–he was Richard’s valet.’

      The valet acknowledged Starkwedder’s presence wth a slight, absent-minded bow. ‘Oh, my God,’ he repeated, as he continued to stare at the body of his late employer.

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