Why Didn’t They Ask Evans?. Agatha Christie

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СКАЧАТЬ enough,’ said Frankie, quelling him. ‘I don’t really care terribly for stomach pumps. To listen to you one would think nobody had ever been poisoned before.’

      ‘Jolly few have been poisoned with eight grains of morphia and got over it,’ Bobby pointed out. ‘Dash it all, you’re not sufficiently impressed.’

      ‘Pretty sickening for the people who poisoned you,’ said Frankie.

      ‘I know. Waste of perfectly good morphia.’

      ‘It was in the beer, wasn’t it?’

      ‘Yes. You see, someone found me sleeping like the dead, tried to wake me and couldn’t. Then they got alarmed, carried me to a farmhouse and sent for a doctor –’

      ‘I know all the next part,’ said Frankie hastily.

      ‘At first they had the idea that I’d taken the stuff deliberately. Then when they heard my story, they went off and looked for the beer bottle and found it where I’d thrown it and had it analysed – the dregs of it were quite enough for that, apparently.’

      ‘No clue as to how the morphia got in the bottle?’

      ‘None whatever. They’ve interviewed the pub where I bought it and opened other bottles and everything’s been quite all right.’

      ‘Someone must have put the stuff in the beer while you were asleep?’

      ‘That’s it. I remember that the paper across the top wasn’t still sticking properly.’

      Frankie nodded thoughtfully.

      ‘Well,’ she said. ‘It shows that what I said in the train that day was quite right.’

      ‘What did you say?’

      ‘That that man – Pritchard – had been pushed over the cliff.’

      ‘That wasn’t in the train. You said that at the station,’ said Bobby feebly.

      ‘Same thing.’

      ‘But why –’

      ‘Darling – it’s obvious. Why should anyone want to put you out of the way? You’re not the heir to a fortune or anything.’

      ‘I may be. Some great aunt I’ve never heard of in New Zealand or somewhere may have left me all her money.’

      ‘Nonsense. Not without knowing you. And if she didn’t know you, why leave money to a fourth son? Why, in these hard times even a clergyman mightn’t have a fourth son! No, it’s all quite clear. No one benefits by your death, so that’s ruled out. Then there’s revenge. You haven’t seduced a chemist’s daughter, by any chance?’

      ‘Not that I can remember,’ said Bobby with dignity.

      ‘I know. One seduces so much that one can’t keep count. But I should say offhand that you’ve never seduced anyone at all.’

      ‘You’re making me blush, Frankie. And why must it be a chemist’s daughter, anyway?’

      ‘Free access to morphia. It’s not so easy to get hold of morphia.’

      ‘Well, I haven’t seduced a chemist’s daughter.’

      ‘And you haven’t got any enemies that you know of?’

      Bobby shook his head.

      ‘Well, there you are,’ said Frankie triumphantly. ‘It must be the man who was pushed over the cliff. What do the police think?’

      ‘They think it must have been a lunatic.’

      ‘Nonsense. Lunatics don’t wander about with unlimited supplies of morphia looking for odd bottles of beer to put it into. No, somebody pushed Pritchard over the cliff. A minute or two later you come along and he thinks you saw him do it and so determines to put you out of the way.’

      ‘I don’t think that will hold water, Frankie.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Well, to begin with, I didn’t see anything.’

      ‘Yes, but he didn’t know that.’

      ‘And if I had seen anything, I should have said so at the inquest.’

      ‘I suppose that’s so,’ said Frankie unwillingly.

      She thought for a minute or two.

      ‘Perhaps he thought you’d seen something that you didn’t think was anything but which really was something. That sounds pure gibberish, but you get the idea?’

      Bobby nodded.

      ‘Yes, I see what you mean, but it doesn’t seem very probable, somehow.’

      ‘I’m sure that cliff business had something to do with this. You were on the spot – the first person to be there –’

      ‘Thomas was there, too,’ Bobby reminded her. ‘And nobody’s tried to poison him.’

      ‘Perhaps they’re going to,’ said Frankie cheerfully. ‘Or perhaps they’ve tried and failed.’

      ‘It all seems very far-fetched.’

      ‘I think it’s logical. If you get two out of the way things happening in a stagnant pond like Marchbolt – wait – there’s a third thing.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘That job you were offered. That, of course, is quite a small thing, but it was odd, you must admit. I’ve never heard of a foreign firm that specialized in seeking out undistinguished ex-Naval officers.’

      ‘Did you say undistinguished?’

      ‘You hadn’t got into the BMJ, then. But you see my point. You’ve seen something you weren’t meant to see – or so they (whoever they are) think. Very well. They first try to get rid of you by offering you a job abroad. Then, when that fails, they try to put you out of the way altogether.’

      ‘Isn’t that rather drastic? And anyway a great risk to take?’

      ‘Oh! but murderers are always frightfully rash. The more murders they do, the more murders they want to do.’

      ‘Like The Third Bloodstain,’ said Bobby, remembering one of his favourite works of fiction.

      ‘Yes, and in real life, too – Smith and his wives and Armstrong and people.’

      ‘Well, but, Frankie, what on earth is it I’m supposed to have seen?’

      ‘That, of course, is the difficulty,’ admitted Frankie. ‘I agree that it can’t have been the actual pushing, because you would have told about that. It must be something about the man himself. Perhaps he had a birthmark or double-jointed fingers or some strange physical peculiarity.’

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