Miss Marple – Miss Marple and Mystery: The Complete Short Stories. Агата Кристи

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СКАЧАТЬ – all of them. Listen, I have it! They would have killed me had they known. I was afraid – I did not know what to do, and then I thought of you … Hush, what was that?’

      It was a sound in the shop below. Motioning to him to remain where he was, she tiptoed out on to the stairs. She returned with a white face and staring eyes.

      ‘Madre de Dios! It is the police. They are coming up here. You have a knife? A revolver? Which?’

      ‘My dear girl, you don’t expect me seriously to murder a policeman?’

      ‘Oh, but you are mad – mad! They will take you away and hang you by the neck until you’re dead.’

      ‘They’ll what?’ said Mr Eastwood, with a very unpleasant feeling going up and down his spine.

      Steps sounded on the stair.

      ‘Here they come,’ whispered the girl. ‘Deny everything. It is the only hope.’

      ‘That’s easy enough,’ admitted Mr Eastwood, sotto voce.

      In another minute two men had entered the room. They were in plain clothes, but they had an official bearing that spoke of long training. The smaller of the two, a little dark man with quiet grey eyes, was the spokesman.

      ‘I arrest you, Conrad Fleckman,’ he said, ‘for the murder of Anna Rosenburg. Anything you say will be used in evidence against you. Here is my warrant and you will do well to come quietly.’

      A half-strangled scream burst from the girl’s lips. Anthony stepped forward with a composed smile.

      ‘You are making a mistake, officer,’ he said pleasantly. ‘My name is Anthony Eastwood.’

      The two detectives seemed completely unimpressed by his statement.

      ‘We’ll see about that later,’ said one of them, the one who had not spoken before. ‘In the meantime, you come along with us.’

      ‘Conrad,’ wailed the girl. ‘Conrad, do not let them take you.’

      Anthony looked at the detectives.

      ‘You will permit me, I am sure, to say goodbye to this young lady?’

      With more decency of feeling than he had expected, the two men moved towards the door. Anthony drew the girl into the corner by the window, and spoke to her in a rapid undertone.

      ‘Listen to me. What I said was true. I am not Conrad Fleckman. When you rang up this morning, they must have given you the wrong number. My name is Anthony Eastwood. I came in answer to your appeal because – well, I came.’

      She stared at him incredulously.

      ‘You are not Conrad Fleckman?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Oh!’ she cried, with a deep accent of distress. ‘And I kissed you!’

      ‘That’s all right,’ Mr Eastwood assured her. ‘The early Christians made a practice of that sort of thing. Jolly sensible. Now look here, I’ll tool off with these people. I shall soon prove my identity. In the meantime, they won’t worry you, and you can warn this precious Conrad of yours. Afterwards –’

      ‘Yes?’

      ‘Well – just this. My telephone number is North-western 1743 – and mind they don’t give you the wrong one.’

      She gave him an enchanting glance, half-tears, half a smile.

      ‘I shall not forget – indeed, I shall not forget.’

      ‘That’s all right then. Goodbye. I say –’

      ‘Yes?’

      ‘Talking of the early Christians – once more wouldn’t matter, would it?’

      She flung her arms round his neck. Her lips just touched his.

      ‘I do like you – yes, I do like you. You will remember that, whatever happens, won’t you?’

      Anthony disengaged himself reluctantly and approached his captors.

      ‘I am ready to come with you. You don’t want to detain this young lady, I suppose?’

      ‘No, sir, that will be quite all right,’ said the small man civilly.

      ‘Decent fellows, these Scotland Yard men,’ thought Anthony to himself, as he followed them down the narrow stairway.

      There was no sign of the old woman in the shop, but Anthony caught a heavy breathing from a door at the rear, and guessed that she stood behind it, cautiously observing events.

      Once out in the dinginess of Kirk Street, Anthony drew a long breath, and addressed the smaller of the two men.

      ‘Now then, inspector – you are an inspector, I suppose?’

      ‘Yes, sir. Detective-Inspector Verrall. This is Detective-Sergeant Carter.’

      ‘Well, Inspector Verrall, the time has come to talk sense – and to listen to it too. I’m not Conrad What’s-his-name. My name is Anthony Eastwood, as I told you, and I am a writer by profession. If you will accompany me to my flat, I think that I shall be able to satisfy you of my identity.’

      Something in the matter-of-fact way Anthony spoke seemed to impress the detectives. For the first time an expression of doubt passed over Verrall’s face.

      Carter, apparently, was harder to convince.

      ‘I dare say,’ he sneered. ‘But you’ll remember the young lady was calling you “Conrad” all right.’

      ‘Ah! that’s another matter. I don’t mind admitting to you both that for – er – reasons of my own, I was passing myself off upon that lady as a person called Conrad. A private matter, you understand.’

      ‘Likely story, isn’t it?’ observed Carter. ‘No, sir, you come along with us. Hail that taxi, Joe.’

      A passing taxi was stopped, and the three men got inside. Anthony made a last attempt, addressing himself to Verrall as the more easily convinced of the two.

      ‘Look here, my dear inspector, what harm is it going to do you to come along to my flat and see if I’m speaking the truth? You can keep the taxi if you like – there’s a generous offer! It won’t make five minutes’ difference either way.’

      Verrall looked at him searchingly.

      ‘I’ll do it,’ he said suddenly. ‘Strange as it appears, I believe you’re speaking the truth. We don’t want to make fools of ourselves at the station by arresting the wrong man. What’s the address?’

      ‘Forty-eight Brandenburg Mansions.’

      Verrall leant out and shouted the address to the taxi-driver. All three sat in silence until they arrived at their destination, when Carter sprang out, and Verrall motioned СКАЧАТЬ