III
Inspector1 Neele’s second interview at the Golf Hotel was with Mr. Ger-
ald Wright. Mr. Gerald Wright was a thin, intellectual and very superior
young man. He was, Inspector Neele
noted2, not unlike Vivian Dubois in
build.
“What can I do for you, Inspector Neele?” he asked.
“I thought you might be able to help us with a little information, Mr.
Wright.”
“Information? Really? It seems very unlikely.”
“It’s in connection with the recent events at Yewtree
Lodge3. You’ve
heard of them, of course?”
Inspector Neele put a little
irony4 into the question. Mr. Wright smiled
patronisingly.
“Heard of them,” he said, “is hardly the right word. The newspapers ap-
pear to be full of nothing else. How incredibly bloodthirsty our public
press is! What an age we live in! On one side the manufacture of atom
bombs, on the other our newspapers delight in reporting
brutal5 murders!
But you said you had some questions to ask. Really, I cannot see what they
can be. I know nothing about this Yewtree Lodge affair. I was actually in
the
Isle6 of Man when Mr. Rex Fortescue was killed.”
“You arrived here very shortly afterwards, didn’t you, Mr. Wright? You
had a telegram, I believe, from Miss Elaine Fortescue.”
“Our police know everything, do they not? Yes, Elaine sent for me. I
came, of course, at once.”
“And you are, I understand, shortly to be married?”
“Quite right, Inspector Neele. You have no objections, I hope.”
between you dates from sometime back? Six or seven months ago, in
fact?”
“Quite correct.”
“You and Miss Fortescue became engaged to be married. Mr. Fortescue
refused to give his consent, informed you that if his daughter married
against his wishes he did not propose to give her an income of any kind.
Whereupon, I understand, you broke off the engagement and departed.”
Gerald Wright smiled rather pityingly.
“A very crude way of putting things, Inspector Neele. Actually, I was vic-
timized for my political opinions. Rex Fortescue was the worst type of cap-
italist. Naturally I could not sacrifice my political beliefs and convictions
for money.”
“But you have no objections to marrying a wife who has just inherited
£50,000?”
Gerald Wright gave a thin satisfied smile.
“Not at all, Inspector Neele. The money will be used for the benefit of
the community. But surely you did not come here to discuss with me
either my financial circumstances—or my political convictions?”
“No, Mr. Wright. I wanted to talk to you about a simple question of fact.
As you are aware, Mrs. Adele Fortescue died as a result of cyanide poison-
ing on the afternoon of November the 5th.
“Since you were in the neighbourhood of Yewtree Lodge on that after-
noon I thought it possible that you might have seen or heard something
that had a bearing on the case.”
“And what leads you to believe that I was, as you call it, in the neigh-
bourhood of Yewtree Lodge at the time?”
“You left this hotel at a quarter past four on that particular afternoon,
Mr. Wright. On leaving the hotel you walked down the road in the direc-
tion of Yewtree Lodge. It seems natural to suppose that you were going
there.”
“I thought of it,” said Gerald Wright, “but I considered that it would be a
rather pointless thing to do. I already had an arrangement to meet Miss
Fortescue—Elaine—at the hotel at six o’clock. I went for a walk along a
lane that branches off from the main road and returned to the Golf Hotel
just before six o’clock. Elaine did not keep her appointment. Quite natur-
ally, under the circumstances.”
“Anybody see you on this walk of yours, Mr. Wright?”
“A few cars passed me, I think, on the road. I did not see anyone I knew,
if that’s what you mean. The lane was little more than a cart-track and too
muddy for cars.”
“So between the time you left the hotel at a quarter past four until six
o’clock when you arrived back again, I’ve only your word for it as to
where you were?”
Gerald Wright continued to smile in a superior fashion.
“Very
distressing9 for us both, Inspector, but there it is.”
Inspector Neele said softly:
“Then if someone said they looked out of a landing window and saw you
in the garden of Yewtree Lodge at about 4:35—” he paused and left the
sentence unfinished.
Gerald Wright raised his
eyebrows10 and shook his head.
“Visibility must have been very bad by then,” he said. “I think it would
be difficult for anyone to be sure.”
“Are you acquainted with Mr. Vivian Dubois, who is also staying here?”
“Dubois. Dubois? No, I don’t think so. Is that the tall, dark man with a
“Yes. He also was out for a walk that afternoon, and he also left the hotel
and walked past Yewtree Lodge. You did not notice him in the road by any
chance?”
“No. No. I can’t say I did.”
Gerald Wright looked for the first time faintly worried. Inspector Neele
said thoughtfully:
“It wasn’t really a very nice afternoon for walking, especially after dark
in a muddy lane. Curious how energetic everyone seems to have felt.”
IV
On Inspector Neele’s return to the house he was greeted by
Sergeant12
Hay with an air of satisfaction.
“I’ve found out about the blackbirds for you, sir,” he said.
“You have, have you?”
“Yes, sir, in a pie they were. Cold pie was left out for Sunday night’s sup-
per. Somebody got at that pie in the
larder13 or somewhere. They’d taken off
the crust and they’d taken out the
veal14 and ’am what was inside it, and
what d’you think they put in instead? Some stinkin’ blackbirds they got
out of the gardener’s shed. Nasty sort of trick to play, wasn’t it?”
“ ‘Wasn’t that a dainty dish to set before the king?’ ” said Inspector Neele.
He left Sergeant Hay staring after him.
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