3
Into the Gothic gloom of the library, Gina brought an exotic glow. Even In-
spector
Curry1 blinked a little at the radiant young woman who sat down,
leaned forward over the table and said expectantly, “Well?”
drily:
“I see you’re not wearing mourning, Mrs. Hudd?”
“I haven’t got any,” said Gina. “I know everyone is supposed to have a
little black number and wear it with pearls. But I don’t. I hate black. I
like that ought to wear it. Anyway
Christian6 Gulbrandsen wasn’t really a
relation. He’s my grandmother’s stepson.”
“And I suppose you didn’t know him very well?”
Gina shook her head.
“He came here three or four times when I was a child, but then in the
war I went to America, and I only came back here to live about six months
ago.”
“You have definitely come back here to live? You’re not just on a visit?”
“I haven’t really thought,” said Gina.
“You were in the Great Hall last night, when Mr. Gulbrandsen went to
his room?”
“Yes. He said good night and went away. Grandam asked if he had
everything he wanted and he said yes—that Jolly had
fixed7 him up fine.
Not those words, but that kind of thing. He said he had letters to write.”
“And then?”
Gina described the scene between Lewis and Edgar Lawson. It was the
same story as Inspector Curry had by now heard many times, but it took
an added colour, a new gusto, under Gina’s handling. It became drama.
“It was Wally’s revolver,” she said. “Fancy Edgar’s having the
guts8 to go
and pinch it out of his room. I’d never have believed he’d have the guts.”
“Were you alarmed when they went into the study and Edgar Lawson
locked the door?”
“Oh no,” said Gina, opening her enormous brown eyes very wide. “I
loved it. It was so ham, you know, and so madly
theatrical9. Everything
Edgar does is always ridiculous. One can’t take him seriously for a mo-
ment.”
“He did fire the revolver, though?”
“Yes. We all thought then that he’d shot Lewis after all.”
“And did you enjoy that?” Inspector Curry could not refrain from ask-
ing.
“Oh no, I was terrified, then. Everyone was, except Grandam. She never
turned a hair.”
“Not really. She’s that kind of person. Not quite in this world. She’s the
sort of person who never believes anything bad can happen. She’s sweet.”
“During all this scene, who was in the Hall?”
“Oh, we were all there. Except Uncle Christian, of course.”
“Not all, Mrs. Hudd. People went in and out.”
“Your husband, for instance, went out to fix the lights.”
“Yes. Wally’s great at fixing things.”
“During his absence, a shot was heard, I understand. A shot that you all
thought came from the park?”
“I don’t remember that … Oh yes, it was just after the lights had come on
again and Wally had come back.”
“Did anyone else leave the Hall?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t remember.”
“Where were you sitting, Mrs. Hudd?”
“Over by the window.”
“Near the door to the library?”
“Yes.”
“Did you yourself leave the Hall at all?”
“Leave? With all the excitement? Of course not.”
Gina sounded scandalised by the idea.
“Where were the others sitting?”
“Mostly round the fireplace, I think. Aunt Mildred was knitting and so
was Aunt Jane—Miss Marple, I mean—Grandam was just sitting.”
“And Mr. Stephen Restarick?”
“Stephen? He was playing the piano to begin with. I don’t know where
he went later.”
“And Miss Bellever?”
“Fussing about, as usual. She practically never sits down. She was look-
ing for keys or something.”
She said suddenly:
“What’s all this about Grandam’s
tonic12? Did the chemist make a mistake
in making it up or something?”
“Why should you think that?”
“Because the bottle’s disappeared and Jolly’s been fussing round madly
looking for it, in no end of a
stew13. Alex told her the police had taken it
away. Did you?”
Instead of replying to the question, Inspector Curry said:
“Miss Bellever was upset, you say?”
“Oh! Jolly always fusses,” said Gina carelessly. “She likes fussing. Some-
times I wonder how Grandam can stand it.”
“Just one last question, Mrs. Hudd. You’ve no ideas yourself as to who
killed Christian Gulbrandsen and why?”
“One of the queers did it, I should think. The thug ones are really quite
sensible. I mean they only cosh people so as to rob a till or get money or
jewelry—not just for fun. But one of the queers—you know, what they call
mentally maladjusted — might do it for fun, don’t you think? Because I
can’t see what other reason there could be for
killing14 Uncle Christian ex-
cept fun, do you? At least I don’t mean fun, exactly—but—”
“Yes, that’s what I mean,” said Gina gratefully. “He wasn’t robbed or
anything, was he?”
“But you know, Mrs. Hudd, the College buildings were locked and
barred. Nobody could get out from there without a pass.”
“Don’t you believe it,” Gina laughed merrily. “Those boys could get out
from anywhere! They’ve taught me a lot of tricks.”
“She’s a lively one,” said Lake when Gina had departed. “First time I’ve
seen her close up. Lovely figure, hasn’t she. Sort of a foreign figure, if you
know what I mean.”
Inspector Curry threw him a cold glance.
Sergeant16 Lake said hastily that
she was a merry one. “Seems to have enjoyed it all, as you might say.”
“Whether Stephen Restarick is right or not about her marriage breaking
up, I notice that she went out of her way to mention that Walter Hudd was
back in the Great Hall, before that shot was heard.”
“Which, according to everyone else, isn’t so?”
“Exactly.”
“She didn’t mention Miss Bellever leaving the Hall to look for keys,
either.”
“No,” said the Inspector thoughtfully, “she didn’t….”
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