Eight
It was a moment or two before anyone took in what she was saying.
Carrie Louise said incredulously:
“
Christian1 shot? Dead? Oh, surely, that’s impossible.”
“If you don’t believe me,” said Miss Bellever, pursing her lips, and ad-
dressing2 not so much Carrie Louise, as the assembled company, “go and
look for yourselves.”
She was angry. And her anger sounded in the crisp sharpness of her
voice.
Slowly, unbelievingly, Carrie Louise took a step towards the door. Lewis
Serrocold put a hand on her shoulder.
“No, dearest, let me go.”
at Edgar, followed him. Miss Bellever went with them.
Miss Marple gently urged Carrie Louise into a chair. She sat down, her
eyes looking hurt and stricken.
“Christian—shot?” she said again.
It was the bewildered, hurt tone of a child.
Walter Hudd remained close by Edgar Lawson,
glowering6 down at him.
In his hand he held the gun that he had picked up from the floor.
Mrs. Serrocold said in a wondering voice:
“But who could possibly want to shoot Christian?”
It was not a question that demanded an answer.
Walter muttered under his breath:
“Nuts! The whole lot of them.”
Stephen had moved protectively closer to Gina. Her young, startled face
was the most vivid thing in the room.
Suddenly the front door opened and a rush of cold air, together with a
man in a big overcoat, came in.
The
heartiness8 of his greeting seemed incredibly shocking.
“Hullo, everybody, what’s going on tonight? A lot of fog on the road. I
had to go dead slow.”
For a startled moment, Miss Marple thought that she was seeing double.
Surely the same man could not be
standing9 by Gina and coming in by the
door. Then she realised that it was only a
likeness10 and not, when you
looked closely, such a very strong likeness. The two men were clearly
brothers with a strong family resemblance, but no more.
Where Stephen Restarick was thin to the point of
emaciation11, the new-
comer was
sleek12. The big coat with the astrakhan collar fitted the sleek-
ness of body
snugly13. A handsome young man and one who bore upon him
the authority and good humour of success.
But Miss Marple
noted14 one thing about him. His eyes, as he entered the
Hall, looked immediately at Gina.
He said, a little doubtfully:
“You did expect me? You got my wire?”
He was speaking now to Carrie Louise. He came towards her.
Almost mechanically, she put up her hand to him. He took it and kissed
tesy.
She murmured:
“Of course, Alex dear—of course. Only, you see—things have been hap-
pening—”
“Happening?”
Mildred gave the information, gave it with a kind of grim
relish18 that
Miss Marple found distasteful.
“Christian Gulbrandsen,” she said. “My brother Christian Gulbrandsen
has been found shot dead.”
“Good God,” Alex registered a more than life-size dismay. “Suicide, do
you mean?”
Carrie Louise moved swiftly.
“Oh no,” she said. “It couldn’t be suicide. Not Christian! Oh no.”
“Uncle Christian would never shoot himself, I’m sure,” said Gina.
Alex Restarick looked from one person to the other. From his brother
Stephen he received a short confirmative nod. Walter Hudd stared back at
him with faint
resentment19. Alex’s eyes rested on Miss Marple with a sud-
den7 frown. It was as though he had found some unwanted
prop20 on a stage
set.
He looked as though he would like her explained. But nobody explained
her, and Miss Marple continued to look an old,
fluffy21 and sweetly be-
wildered old lady.
“When?” asked Alex. “When did this happen, I mean?”
“Just before you arrived,” said Gina. “About—oh three or four minutes
ago, I suppose. Why, of course, we actually heard the shot. Only we didn’t
notice it—not really.”
“Didn’t notice it? Why not?”
“Well, you see, there were other things going on …” Gina
spoke22 rather
hesitantly.
“Sure were,” said Walter with emphasis.
Juliet Bellever came into the Hall by the door from the library.
“Mr. Serrocold suggests that we should all wait in the library. It would
be convenient for the police. Except for Mrs. Serrocold. You’ve had a
shock, Cara. I’ve ordered some hot bottles to be put in your bed. I’ll take
you up and—”
Rising to her feet, Carrie Louise shook her head.
“I must see Christian first,” she said.
“Oh, no, dear. Don’t upset yourself—”
Carrie Louise put her very gently to one side.
“Dear Jolly—you don’t understand.” She looked round and said, “Jane?”
Miss Marple had already moved towards her.
“Come with me, will you, Jane?”
They moved together towards the door. Dr. Maverick, coming in, almost
collided with them.
Miss Bellever exclaimed:
“Dr. Maverick. Do stop her. So foolish.”
Carrie Louise looked calmly at the young doctor. She even gave a tiny
smile.
Dr. Maverick said:
“You want to go and—see him?”
“I must.”
“I see.” He stood aside. “If you feel you must, Mrs. Serrocold. But after-
wards3, please go and lie down and let Miss Bellever look after you. At the
moment you do not feel the shock, but I assure you that you will do so.”
“Yes. I expect you are quite right. I will be quite sensible. Come, Jane.”
The two women moved out through the door, past the foot of the main
staircase and along the corridor, past the dining room on the right and the
double door, leading to the kitchen quarters on the left, past the side door
to the terrace and on to the door that gave admission to the Oak
Suite23 that
had been alloted to Christian Gulbrandsen. It was a room furnished as a
sitting room more than a bedroom, with a bed in an
alcove24 to one side and
a door leading into a dressing room and bathroom.
Carrie Louise stopped on the threshold. Christian Gulbrandsen had been
sitting at the big mahogany desk with a small portable typewriter open in
front of him. He sat there now, but
slumped25 sideways in the chair. The
high arms of the chair prevented him from slipping to the floor.
Lewis Serrocold was standing by the window. He had pulled the curtain
a little aside and was gazing out into the night.
He looked round and frowned.
“My dearest, you shouldn’t have come.”
He came towards her and she stretched out a hand to him. Miss Marple
retreated a step or two.
“Oh yes, Lewis. I had to—see him. One has to know just exactly how
things are.”
She walked slowly towards the desk.
Lewis said warningly:
“You mustn’t touch anything. The police must have things left exactly as
we found them.”
“Oh yes.” Lewis Serrocold looked a little surprised that the question had
even been asked. “I thought—you knew that?”
“I did really. Christian would not commit suicide, and he was such a
competent person that it could not possibly have been an accident. That
only leaves”—she hesitated a moment—“murder.”
She walked up behind the desk and stood looking down at the dead
man. There was sorrow and affection in her face.
“Dear Christian,” she said. “He was always good to me.”
Softly, she touched the top of his head with her fingers.
“Bless you and thank you, dear Christian,” she said.
Lewis Serrocold said with something more like emotion than Miss
Marple had ever seen in him before:
“I wish to God I could have spared you this, Caroline.”
His wife shook her head gently.
“You can’t really spare anyone anything,” she said. “Things always have
to be faced sooner or later. And therefore it had better be sooner. I’ll go
and lie down now. I suppose you’ll stay here, Lewis, until the police
come?”
“Yes.”
Carrie Louise turned away and Miss Marple slipped an arm around her.
分享到: