Agatha Christie - The Unexpected Guest

Angell gave a self-deprecating smile before replying. Then he spoke quietly but with emphasis. 'As I say, sir, last night I couldn't sleep very well. I was lying awake, listening to the booming of the foghorn. An extremely depressing sound I always find it, sir. Then it seemed to me that I heard a shutter banging. A very irritating noise when you're trying to get to sleep. I got up and leaned out of my window. It seemed to be the shutter of the pantry window, almost immediately below me.'

'Well?' asked Farrar, sharply.

'I decided, sir, to go down and attend to the shutter,' Angell continued. 'As I was on my way downstairs, I heard a shot.' He paused briefly. 'I didn't think anything of it at the time. "Mr Warwick at it again," I thought. "But surely he can't see what he's shooting at in a mist like this." I went to the pantry, sir, and fastened back the shutter securely.

But, as I was standing there, feeling a bit uneasy for some reason, I heard footsteps coming along the path outside the window –'

'You mean,' Farrar interrupted, 'the path that –' His eyes went towards it.

'Yes, sir,' Angell agreed. 'The path that leads from the terrace, around the corner of the house, that way – past the domestic offices. A path that's not used very much, except of course by you, sir, when you come over here, seeing as it's a short cut from your house to this one.'

He stopped speaking, and looked intently at Julian Farrar, who merely said icily, 'Go on.'

'I was feeling, as I said, a bit uneasy,' Angell continued, 'thinking there might be a prowler about. I can't tell you how relieved I was, sir, to sec you pass the pantry window, walking quickly – hurrying on your way back home.'

After a pause, Farrar said, 'I can't really see any point in what you're telling me. Is there supposed to be one?'

With an apologetic cough, Angell answered him. 'I just wondered, sir, whether you have mentioned to the police that you came over here last night to see Mr Warwick. In case you have not done so, and supposing that they should question me further as to the events of last night –'

Farrar interrupted him. 'You do realize, don't you,' he asked tersely, 'that the penalty for blackmail is severe?'

'Blackmail, sir?' responded Angell, sounding shocked. 'I don't know what you mean. It's just a question, as I said, of deciding where my duty lies. The police – '

'The police,' Farrar interrupted him sharply, 'are perfectly satisfied as to who killed Mr Warwick. The fellow practically signed his name to the crime. They're not likely to come asking you any more questions.'

'I assure you, sir,' Angell interjected, with alarm in his voice, 'I only meant –'

'You know perfectly well,' Farrar interrupted again, 'that you couldn't have recognized anybody in that thick fog last night. You've simply invented this story in order to –' He broke off, as he saw Laura Warwick emerging from the house into the garden.

'I'm sorry I've kept you waiting, Julian,' Laura called as she approached them. She looked surprised to see Angell and Julian Farrar apparently in conversation.

'Perhaps I may speak to you later, sir, about this little matter,' the valet murmured to Farrar. He moved away, half bowing to Laura, then walked quickly across the garden and around a corner of the house.

Laura watched him go, and then spoke urgently. 'Julian,' she said, 'I must –'

Farrar interrupted her. 'Why did you send for me, Laura?' he asked, sounding annoyed.

'I've been expecting you all day,' Laura replied, surprised.

'Well, I've been up to my ears ever since this morning,' Farrar exclaimed. 'Committees, and more meetings this afternoon. I can't just drop any of these things so soon before the election. And in any case, don't you see, Laura, that it's much better that we shouldn't meet at present?'

'But there are things we've got to discuss,' Laura told him.

Taking her arm briefly, Farrar led her further away from the house. 'Do you know that Angell is setting out to blackmail me?' he asked her.

'Angell?' cried Laura, incredulously. 'Angell is?'

'Yes. He obviously knows about us – and he also knows, or at any rate pretends to know, that I was here last night.'

Laura gasped. 'Do you mean he saw you?'

'He says he saw me,' Farrar retorted.

'But he couldn't have seen you in that fog,' Laura insisted.

'He's got some story,' Farrar told her, 'about coming down to the pantry and doing something to the shutter outside the window, and seeing me pass on my way home. He also says he heard a shot, not long before that, but didn't think anything of it.'

'Oh my God!' Laura gasped. 'How awful! What are we going to do?'

Farrar made an involuntary gesture as though he were about to comfort Laura with an embrace, but then, glancing towards the house, thought better of it. He gazed at her steadily. 'I don't know yet what we're going to do,' he told her. 'We'll have to think.'

'You're not going to pay him, surely?'

'No, no,' Farrar assured her. 'If one starts doing that, it's the beginning of the end. And yet, what is one to do?' He passed a hand across his brow. 'I didn't think anyone knew I came over yesterday evening,' he continued. 'I'm certain my housekeeper didn't. The point is, did Angell really see me, or is he pretending he did?'

'Supposing he does go to the police?' Laura asked, tremulously.

'I know,' murmured Farrar. Again, he ran his hand across his brow. 'One's got to think – think carefully.' He began to walk to and fro. 'Either bluff it out – say he's lying, that I never left home yesterday evening –'

'But there are the fingerprints,' Laura told him.

'What fingerprints?' asked Farrar, startled.

'You've forgotten,' Laura reminded him. 'The fingerprints on the table. The police have been thinking that they're MacGregor's, but if Angell goes to them with this story, then they'll ask to take your fingerprints, and then –'

She broke off. Julian Farrar now looked very worried. 'Yes, yes, I see,' he muttered. 'All right, then. I'll have to admit that I came over here and – tell some story. I came over to see Richard about something, and we talked –'

'You can say he was perfectly all right when you left him,' Laura suggested, speaking quickly.

There was little trace of affection in Farrar's eyes as he looked at her. 'How easy you make it sound!' he retorted, hotly. 'Can I really say that?' he added sarcastically.

'One has to say something!' she told him, sounding defensive.

'Yes, I must have put my hand there as I bent over to see –' He swallowed, as the scene came back to him.

'So long as they believe the prints are MacGregor's,' said Laura, eagerly.

'MacGregor! MacGregor!' Farrar exclaimed angrily. He was almost shouting now. 'What on earth made you think of cooking up that message from the newspaper and putting it on Richard's body? Weren't you taking a terrific chance?'

'Yes – no – I don't know,' Laura cried in confusion.

Farrar looked at her with silent revulsion. 'So damned cold-blooded,' he muttered.

'We had to think of something,' Laura sighed. 'I – I just couldn't think. It was really Michael's idea.'

'Michael?'

'Michael – Starkwedder,' Laura told him.

'You mean he helped you?' Farrar asked. He sounded incredulous.

'Yes, yes, yes!' Laura cried impatiently. 'That's why I wanted to see you – to explain to you –'

Farrar came up close to her. His tone was icily jealous as he asked, firmly, 'What's Michael – he emphasized Starkwedder's Christian name with a cold anger – 'what's Michael Starkwedder doing in all this?'

'He came in and – and found me there,' Laura told him. 'I'd – I'd got the gun in my hand and –'

'Good God!' Farrar exclaimed with distaste, moving away from her. 'And somehow you persuaded him –'