Let Him Lie by Ianthe Jerrold Read Free Book Online Page B

it’s of no great importance,” Finister assured her soothingly. “But naturally we have to fix the time of the—shot, and your evidence seems to make it earlier than three thirty-five.”
    â€œNo, I don’t say that! I don’t know! I left my bedroom at a quarter-past three, that’s all I know!”
    â€œCould you possibly cast your mind back and remember exactly what you did between then and coming to the orchard gate?”
    â€œI—I suppose I can!”
    Agnes paused so long that Sir Henry Blundell turned his head inquiringly from his contemplation of the last autumn leaves.
    â€œI—I went downstairs.”
    â€œImmediately?”
    â€œYes. Yes, immediately. And Bates was in the hall. And he said that the Field Club had arrived. And I said: ‘Where are they?’ And he said: ‘In the old kitchen, looking at the devil’s oven.’ And I said: ‘We’ll have tea at four; I expect that’ll give them plenty of time.’ And he said—oh, I expect he said ‘Very good,’ or something, and I—”
    There was another pause.
    â€œWell—I just looked at the flowers to see if they were fresh, and they were, and then I went out at the Tower door. I thought, shall I take a mackintosh? but it wasn’t raining, so I just put on some galoshes—”
    â€œWhere were the galoshes?”
    â€œIn the lowest Tower room. It’s used as a cloakroom. That’s why I went that way. And I went across the lawn—not quickly, you know, quite slowly, thinking about planting some new shrubs. And—and—”
    â€œAnd as you came to the orchard gate you heard a shot?”
    â€œYes. I should think it could easily have been three thirty-five by then, couldn’t it?”
    Superintendent Finister shook his head.
    â€œNo, what you’ve told us couldn’t have taken twenty minutes. Seven at the outside, I should say. Are you quite sure, Mrs. Molyneux, you didn’t do anything else? Speak to anybody else in the house, for instance?”
    â€œOf course I’m sure!” Suddenly Agnes’s pale rain- washed face flushed with uneven colour. She looked from Finister to Jeanie. Her eyes were both frightened and angry. “Why do you ask that?” she demanded shrilly.
    Jeanie saw the surprise on Superintendent Finister’s face give way to a grave, thoughtful look. He looked very seriously at Agnes. He only said, however, quietly: “It’s important to fix the time, you see, of the shot, and I thought possibly you had had a talk with one of the staff or somebody and had forgotten it.”
    Agnes bent her head. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, her whole slight figure tense. “I see. I’m sorry. No, I don’t think I did. No, I didn’t, I’m sure. May I go now? I’ve had about as much as I can bear.”
    â€œCertainly. We’re very sorry to have had to trouble you at all.”
    â€œSo sorry, so sorry,” murmured Sir Henry, turning from the window and holding out his hand. He smiled in melancholy fashion, squeezing Agnes’s little fingers. Her tears brimmed over.
    â€œThank you, Sir Henry. No, I won’t go through the hall. I can’t face all those people! No, Jeanie! It’s all right! I’d rather be by myself!”
    She went slowly through the door to the Tower. Jeanie heard her steps dragging along the stone passage, up the wooden uncarpeted stairs, slowly, slowly, then suddenly accelerating, pattering quickly up the stairs with heels quickly clicking along the wooden passage overhead. Jeanie, listening to that sudden astonishing acceleration, saw her own surprise reflected in Superintendent Finister’s look. And once again she saw his look of surprise melt into a glance thoughtful, grave, even severe.
    Jeanie gave her own evidence quickly. She produced an effect, she saw, by her account of Myfanwy Peel and her antics with