Agatha Christie - The Listerdale Mystery

Lady Noreen stared at him.

"What do you mean? We've got the diamonds - at least, Edward has."

"Edward?"

"Yes." She might a slight gesture to indicate the figure by her side.

"It's I who am in the devil of a mess," thought Edward. "Ten to one this is brother Gerald." The young man stared at him.

"What do you mean?" he said slowly. "Edward's in Scotland."

"Oh!" cried the girl. She stared at Edward. "Oh!" Her colour came and went.

"So you," she said, in a low voice, "are the real thing?" It took Edward just one minute to grasp the situation. This was awe in the girl's eyes - was it, could it be - admiration? Should he explain? Nothing so tame! He would play up to the end. He bowed ceremoniously.

"I have to thank you, Lady Noreen," he said, in the best highwayman manner, "for a most delightful evening."

One quick look he cast at the car from which the other had just alighted. A scarlet car with a shining bonnet. His car!

"And I will wish you good evening."

One quick spring and he was inside, his foot on the clutch. The car s forward. Gerald stood paralysed, but the girl was quicker. As the car slid past, she leapt for it, alighting on the running board. The car swerved, shot blindly round the corner and pulled up. Noreen, still panting from her spring, laid her hand on Edward's arm.

"You must give it me - oh, you must give it me. I've got to return it to Agnes Larella. Be a sport - we've had a good evening together - we've danced - we've been-pals. Won't you give it to me? To me ?" A woman who intoxicated you with her beauty. There were such women then ... Also, Edward was only too anxious to get rid of the necklace. It was a heaven-sent opportunity for a beau geste .

He took it from his pocket and dropped it into her outstretched hand.

"We've been - pals," he said.

"Ah!" Her eyes smouldered - lit up.

Then surprisingly she bent her head to him. For a moment he held her, her lips against his ... Then she jumped off. The scarlet car sped forward with a great leap.

Romance!

Adventure!

At twelve o'clock on Christmas Day, Edward Robinson strode into the tiny drawing room of a house in Clapham, with the customary greeting of "Merry Christmas."

Maud, who was rearranging a piece of holly, greeted him coldly.

"Have a good day in the country with that friend of yours?" she inquired.

"Look here," said Edward. "That was a lie I told you. I won a competition - £500, and I bought a car with it. I didn't tell you because I knew you'd kick up a row about it. That's the first thing. I've bought the car and there's nothing more to be said about it. The second thing is this - I'm not going to hang about for years. My prospects are quite good enough and I mean to marry you next month. See?"

"Oh!" Said Maud faintly.

Was this - could this be - Edward speaking in this masterful fashion?

"Will you?" said Edward. "Yes or no?"

She gazed at him, fascinated. There was awe and admiration in her eyes, and the sight of that look was intoxicating to Edward. Gone was that patient motherliness which had roused him to exasperation. So had the Lady Noreen looked at him last night. But the Lady Noreen had receded far away, right into the region of Romance, side by side with the Marchesa Bianca. This was the Real Thing. This was his woman.

"Yes or no?" he repeated, and drew a step nearer.

"Ye - ye-es," faltered Maud. "But, oh, Edward, what has happened to you? You're quite different today."

"Yes," said Edward. "For twenty-four hours I've been a man instead of a worm - and, by God, it pays!" He caught her in his arms almost as Bill the superman might have done.

"Do you love me, Maud? Tell me, do you love me?"

"Oh, Edward!" breathed Maud. "I adore you ... "

"...And I tell you this - it's the same woman - not a doubt of it!" Captain Haydock looked into the eager, vehement face of his friend and sighed. He wished Evans would not be so positive and so jubilant. In the course of a career spent at sea, the old sea captain had learned to leave things that did not concern him well alone. His friend, Evans, late CID inspector, had a different philosophy of life. "Acting on information received - " had been his motto in early days, and he had improved upon it to the extent of finding out his own information. Inspector Evans had been a very smart, wide-awake officer, and had justly earned the promotion which had been his. Even now, when he had retired from the force, and had settled down in the country cottage of his dreams, his professional instinct was still alive.

"Don't often forget a face," he reiterated complacently. "Mrs Anthony - yes, it's Mrs Anthony right enough. When you said Mrs Merrowdene - I knew her at once."

Captain Haydock stirred uneasily. The Merrowdenes were his nearest neighbours, barring Evans himself, and this identifying of Mrs Merrowdene with a former heroine of a cause célèbre distressed him.

"It's a long time ago," he said rather weakly.

"Nine years," said Evans, accurate as ever. "Nine years and three months. You remember the case?"

"In a vague sort of way."

"Anthony turned out to be an arsenic eater," said Evans, "so they acquitted her."

"Well, why shouldn't they?"

"No reason in the world. Only verdict they could give on the evidence. Absolutely correct."

"Then that's all right," said Haydock. "And I don't see what we're bothering about."

"Who's bothering?"

"I thought you were."

"Not at all."

"The thing's over and done with," summed up the captain. "If Mrs Merrowdene at one time of her life was unfortunate enough to be tried and acquitted for murder - "

"It's not usually considered unfortunate to be acquitted," put in Evans.

"You know what I mean," said Captain Haydock irritably. "If the poor lady has been through that harrowing experience, it's no business of ours to rake it up, is it?" Evans did not answer.

"Come now, Evans. The lady was innocent - you've just said so."

"I didn't say she was innocent. I said she was acquitted."

"It's the same thing."

"Not always."

Captain Haydock, who had commenced to tap his pipe out against the side of his chair, stopped, and sat up with a very alert expression.

"Hallo - allo - allo," he said. "The wind's in that quarter, is it? You think she wasn't innocent?"

"I wouldn't say that. I just - don't know. Anthony was in the habit of taking arsenic. His wife got it for him. One day, by mistake, he takes far too much. Was the mistake his or his wife's? Nobody could tell, and the jury very properly gave her the benefit of the doubt. That's all quite right and I'm not finding fault with it. All the same - I'd like to know."

Captain Haydock transferred his attention to his pipe once more.

"Well," he said comfortably. "It's none of our business."

"I'm not so sure..."

"But surely - "

"Listen to me a minute. This man, Merrowdene - in his laboratory this evening, fiddling round with tests - you remember - "

"Yes. He mentioned Marsh's test for arsenic. Said you would know all about it - it was in your line - and chuckled. He wouldn't have said that if he'd thought for one moment - " Evans interrupted him.

"You mean he wouldn't have said that if he knew. They've been married how long - six years you told me?

I bet you anything he has no idea his wile is the once notorious Mrs Anthony."

"And he will certainly not know it from me," said Captain Haydock stiffly. Evans paid no attention, but went on: "You interrupted me just now. After Marsh's test, Merrowdene heated a substance in a test-tube, the metallic residue he dissolved in water and then precipitated it by adding silver nitrate. That was a test for chlorates. A neat unassuming little test. But I chanced to read these words in a book that stood open on the table: 'H 2SO 4decomposes chlorates with evolution of Cl 4O 2. If heated, violent explosions occur, the mixture ought therefore to be kept cool and only very small quantities used.'"