Agatha Christie - The Unexpected Guest

'I'll see to it,' Starkwedder murmured. Holding Sergeant Cadwallader's arm, he discarded the now heavily bloodstained piece of cloth, took out a handkerchief from his own pocket, and began to tie it around the sergeant's hand.

'The mist coming on, you see,' Cadwallader began to explain. 'It was difficult to see clearly. He shot at me. Up there, along the road, near the edge of the spinney.'

With a look of horror on her face, Laura rose and went across to the french windows.

'He shot at me twice,' the sergeant was saying, 'and the second time he got me in the hand.'

Miss Bennett suddenly rose, and put her hand to her mouth. 'I tried to get the gun away from him,' the sergeant went on, 'but I was hampered with my hand, you see –'

'Yes. What happened?' the inspector prompted him.

'His finger was on the trigger,' the sergeant gasped, and it went off. He's shot through the heart. He's dead.'

Sergeant Cadwallader's announcement was greeted with a stunned silence. Laura put her hand to her mouth to stifle a cry, then slowly moved back to the desk chair and sat, staring at the floor. Mrs Warwick lowered her head and leaned on her stick. Starkwedder paced about the room, looking distracted.

'Are you sure he's dead?' the inspector asked.

'I am indeed,' the sergeant replied. 'Poor young lad, shouting defiance at me, loosing off his gun as though he loved the firing of it.'

The inspector walked across to the french windows. 'Where is he?'

'I'll come with you and show you,' the sergeant replied, struggling to his feet.

'No, you'd better stay here.'

'I'm all right now,' the sergeant insisted. 'I'll do all right until we get back to the station.' He walked out onto the terrace, swaying slightly. Looking back at the others, his face filled with misery, he murmured distractedly, '"One would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead." That's Pope. Alexander Pope.' He shook his head, and then walked slowly away.

The inspector turned back to face Mrs Warwick and the others. I'm more sorry than I can say, but perhaps it's the best way out,' he said, then followed the sergeant out into the garden.

Mrs Warwick watched him go. 'The best way out!' she exclaimed, half angrily, half despairingly.

'Yes, yes,' Miss Bennett sighed. 'It is for the best. He's out of it now, poor boy.' She went to help Mrs Warwick up. 'Come, my dear, come, this has been too much for you.'

The old lady looked at her vaguely. 'I – I'll go and lie down,' she murmured, as Miss Bennett supported her to the door. Starkwedder opened it for them, and then took an envelope out of his pocket, holding it out to Mrs Warwick. 'I think you'd better have this back,' he suggested.

She turned in the doorway and took the envelope from him. 'Yes,' she replied. 'Yes, there's no need for that now.'

Mrs Warwick and Miss Bennett left the room. Starkwedder was about to close the door after them when he realized that Angell was moving across to Laura who was still sitting at the desk. She did not turn at his approach.

'May I say, madam,' Angell addressed her, 'how sorry I am. If there is anything I can do, you have only –'

Without looking up, Laura interrupted him. 'We shall need no more help from you, Angell,' she told him coldly. 'You shall have a cheque for your wages, and I should like you out of the house today.'

'Yes, madam. Thank you, madam,' Angell replied, apparently without feeling, then turned away and left the room. Starkwedder closed the door after him.

The room was now growing dark, the last rays of the sun throwing shadows on the walls.

Starkwedder looked across at Laura. 'You're not going to prosecute him for blackmail?' he asked.

'No,' Laura replied, listlessly.

'A pity.' He walked over to her. 'Well, I suppose I'd better be going. I'll say goodbye.' He paused. Laura still had not looked at him. 'Don't be too upset,' he added.

'I am upset,' Laura responded with feeling.

'Because you loved the boy?' Starkwedder asked.

She turned to him. 'Yes. And because it's my fault. You see, Richard was right. Poor Jan should have been sent away somewhere. He should have been shut up where he couldn't do any harm. It was I who wouldn't have that. So, really, it was my fault that Richard was killed.'

'Come now, Laura, don't let's sentimentalize,' Starkwedder retorted roughly. He came closer to her. 'Richard was killed because he asked for it. He could have shown some ordinary kindness to the boy, couldn't he? Don't you fret yourself. What you've got to do now is to be happy. Happy ever after, as the stories say.'

'Happy? With Julian?' Laura responded with bitterness in her voice. 'I wonder!' She frowned. 'You see, it isn't the same now.'

'You mean between Farrar and you?' he asked.

'Yes. You see, when I thought Julian had killed Richard, it made no difference to me. I loved him just the same.' Laura paused, then continued, 'I was even willing to say I'd done it myself.'

'I know you were,' said Starkwedder. 'More fool you. How women enjoy making martyrs of themselves!'

'But when Julian thought I had done it,' Laura continued passionately, 'he changed. He changed towards me completely. Oh, he was willing to try to do the decent thing and not incriminate me. But that was all.' She leaned her chin on her hand, dispirited. 'He didn't feel the same any more.'

Starkwedder shook his head. 'Look here, Laura,' he exclaimed, 'men and women don't react in the same way. What it comes down to is this. Men are really the sensitive sex. Women are tough. Men can't take murder in their stride. Women apparently can. The fact is, if a man's committed a murder for a woman, it probably enhances his value in her eyes. A man feels differently.'

She looked up at him. 'You didn't feel that way,' she observed. 'When you thought I had shot Richard, you helped me.'

'That was different,' Starkwedder replied quickly. He sounded slightly taken aback. 'I had to help you.'

'Why did you have to help me?' Laura asked him.

Starkwedder did not reply directly. Then, after a pause, he said quietly, 'I still want to help you.'

'Don't you see,' said Laura, turning away from him, 'we're back where we started. In a way it was I who killed Richard because – because I was being so obstinate about Jan.'

Starkwedder drew up the stool and sat down beside her. 'That's what's eating you, really, isn't it?' he declared. 'Finding out that it was Jan who shot Richard. But it needn't be true, you know. You needn't think that unless you like.'

Laura stared at him intently. 'How can you say such a thing?' she asked. 'I heard – we all heard –he admitted it – he boasted of it.'

'Oh, yes,' Starkwedder admitted. 'Yes, I know that. But how much do you know about the power of suggestion? Your Miss Bennett played Jan very carefully, got him all worked up. And the boy was certainly suggestible. He liked the idea, as many adolescents do, of being thought to have power, of – yes, of being a killer, if you like. Your Benny dangled the bait in front of him, and he took it. He'd shot Richard, and he put a notch on his gun, and he was a hero!' He paused. 'But you don't know – none of us really know – whether what he said was true.'

'But, for heaven's sake, he shot at the sergeant!' Laura expostulated.

'Oh, yes, he was a potential killer all right!' Starkwedder admitted. 'It's quite likely he shot Richard. But you can't say for sure that he did. It might have been –' He hesitated. 'It might have been somebody else.'

Laura stared at him in disbelief. 'But who?' she asked, incredulously.

Starkwedder thought for a moment. Then, 'Miss Bennett, perhaps,' he suggested. 'After all, she's very fond of you all, and she might have thought it was all for the best. Or, for that matter, Mrs Warwick. Or even your boyfriend Julian – afterwards pretending that he thought you'd done it. A clever move which took you in completely.'