Agatha Christie - Sparkling Cyanide

"You could bring government pressure to bear on the police so that the whole thing is dropped and a verdict of suicide brought in. It has been done before – don't pretend."

"That has been when it was a matter of public policy – in the interests of the State. This is a personal and private matter. I doubt very much whether I could do such a thing."

"You can if you have sufficient determination."

Lord Kidderminster flushed angrily.

"If I could, I wouldn't! It would be abusing my public position."

"If Sandra were arrested and tried, wouldn't you employ the best counsel and do everything possible to get her off however guilty she was?"

"Of course, of course. That's entirely different. You women never grasp these things."

Lady Kidderminster was silent, unperturbed by the thrust. Sandra was the least dear to her of her children – nevertheless she was at this moment a mother, and a mother only – willing to defend her young by any means, honourable or dishonourable. She would fight with tooth and claw for Sandra.

"In any case," said Lord Kidderminster, "Sandra will not be charged unless there is an absolutely convincing case against her. And I, for one, refuse to believe that a daughter of mine is a murderess. I'm astonished at you, Vicky, for entertaining such an idea for a moment."

His wife said nothing, and Lord Kidderminster went uneasily out of the room. To think that Vicky – Vicky – whom he had known intimately for so many years – should prove to have such unsuspected and really very disturbing depths in her!

Race found Ruth Lessing busy with papers at a large desk. She was dressed in a black coat and skirt and a white blouse and he was impressed by her quiet unhurried efficiency. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the unhappy set line of her mouth, but her grief, if grief it was, was as well controlled as all her other emotions.

Race explained his visit and she responded at once.

"It is very good of you to come. Of course I know who you are. Mr Barton was expecting you to join us last night, was he not? I remember his saying so."

"Did he mention that before the evening itself?"

She thought for a moment.

"No. It was when we were actually taking our seats round the table. I remember that I was a little surprised –" She paused and flushed slightly. "Not, of course, at his inviting you. You are an old friend, I know. And you were to have been at the other party a year ago. All I meant was that I was surprised, if you were coming, that Mr Barton hadn't invited another woman to balance the numbers – but of course if you were going to be late and might perhaps not come at all –" She broke off. "How stupid I am. Why go over all these petty things that don't matter? I am stupid this morning."

"But you have come to work as usual?"

"Of course." She looked surprised – almost shocked. "It is my job. There is so much to clear up and arrange."

"George always told me how much he relied upon you," said Race gently.

She turned away. He saw her swallow quickly and blink her eyes. Her absence of any display of emotion almost convinced him of her entire innocence. Almost, but not quite. He had met women who were good actresses before now, women whose reddened eyelids and the black circles underneath whose eyes had been due to art and not to natural causes.

Reserving judgment, he said to himself: "At any rate she's a cool customer."

Ruth turned back to the desk and in answer to his last remark she said quietly:

"I was with him for many years – it will be eight years next April – and I knew his ways, and I think he – trusted me."

"I'm sure of that."

He went on: "It is nearly lunch-time. I hoped you would come out and lunch quietly with me somewhere? There is a good deal I would like to say to you."

"Thank you. I should like to very much."

He took her to a small restaurant that he knew of, where the tables were set far apart and where a quiet conversation was possible.

He ordered, and when the waiter had gone, looked across the table at his companion.

She was a good-looking girl, he decided, with her sleek dark head and her firm mouth and chin.

He talked a little on desultory topics until the food was brought, and she followed his lead, showing herself intelligent and sensible.

Presently, after a pause, she said: "You want to talk to me about last night? Please don't hesitate to do so. The whole thing is so incredible that I would like to talk about it. Except that it happened and I saw it happen, I would not have believed it."

"You've seen Chief Inspector Kemp, of course?"

"Yes, last night. He seems intelligent and experienced." She paused. "Was it really murder, Colonel Race?"

"Did Kemp tell you so?"

"He didn't volunteer any information, but his questions made it plain enough what he had in mind."

"Your opinion as to whether or not it was suicide should be as good as anyone's, Miss Lessing. You knew Barton well and you were with him most of yesterday, I imagine. How did he seem? Much as usual? Or was he disturbed – upset – excited?"

She hesitated.

"It's difficult. He was upset and disturbed – but then there was a reason for that."

She explained the situation that had arisen in regard to Victor Drake and gave a brief sketch of that young man's career.

"H'm," said Race. "The inevitable black sheep. And Barton was upset about him?"

Ruth said slowly: "It's difficult to explain. I knew Mr Barton so well, you see. He was annoyed and bothered about the business – and I gather Mrs Drake had been very tearful and upset, as she always was on these occasions – so of course he wanted to straighten it all out. But I had the impression –"

"Yes, Miss Lessing? I'm sure your impressions will be accurate."

"Well, then, I fancied that his annoyance was not quite the usual annoyance, if I may put it like that. Because we had had this same business before, in one form or another. Last year Victor Drake was in this country and in trouble, and we had to ship him off to South America , and only last June he cabled home for money. So you see I was familiar with Mr Barton's reactions. And it seemed to me this time that his annoyance was principally at the cable having arrived just at this moment when he was entirely preoccupied with the arrangements for the party he was giving. He seemed so taken up by the preparations for it that he grudged any other preoccupation arising."

"Did it strike you that there was anything odd about this party of his, Miss Lessing?"

"Yes, it did. Mr Barton was really most peculiar about it. He was excited – like a child might have been."

"Did it occur to you that there might have been a special purpose for such a party?"

"You mean that it was a replica of the party a year ago when Mrs Barton committed suicide?"

"Yes."

"Frankly, I thought it a most extraordinary idea."

"But George didn't volunteer any explanation – or confide in you in any way?"

She shook her head.

"Tell me, Miss Lessing, has there ever been any doubt in your mind as to Mrs Barton's having committed suicide?"

She looked astonished. "Oh, no."

"George Barton didn't tell you that he believed his wife had been murdered?"

She stared at him.

"George believed that?"

"I see that is news to you. Yes, Miss Lessing, George had received anonymous letters stating that his wife had not committed suicide but had been killed."

"So that is why he became so odd this summer? I couldn't think what was the matter with him."

"You knew nothing about these anonymous letters?"

"Nothing. Were there many of them?"

"He showed me two."

"And I knew nothing about them!"

There was a note of bitter hurt in her voice. He watched her for a moment or two, then he said: