The Unexpected Guest by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online

him while he was there. He's been told to report at the station as soon as possible.'
    'Right. Now, about this second set of unidentified prints. The print of a man's hand flat on the table by the body, and blurred impressions on both the outside and the inside of the french windows.'
    Til bet that's MacGregor,' the sergeant exclaimed, snapping his fingers.
    'Ye-es. Could be,' the inspector admitted reluctantly. 'But they weren't on the revolver. And you would think any man using a revolver to kill someone would have the sense enough to wear gloves, surely.'
    'I don't know,' the sergeant observed. 'An unbalanced fellow like this MacGregor, deranged after the death of his child, he wouldn't think of that.'
    'Well, we ought to get a description of MacGregor through from Norwich soon,' the inspector said.
    The sergeant settled himself on the footstool. 'It's sad story, whichever way you look at it,' he suggested. 'A man, his wife but lately dead, and his only child killed by furious driving.'
    'If there'd been what you call furious driving,' the inspector corrected him impatiently, 'Richard Warwick would have got a sentence for manslaughter, or at any rate for the driving offence. In point of fact, his licence wasn't even endorsed.' He reached down to his briefcase, and took out the murder weapon.
    'There is some fearful lying goes on sometimes,' Sergeant Cadwallader muttered darkly.' “Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying.” That's Shakespeare.'
    His superior officer merely rose from the desk and looked at him. After a moment, the sergeant pulled himself together and rose to his feet. 'A man's hand flat on the table,' murmured the inspector as he went across to the table, taking the gun with him., and looking down at the table-top. 'I wonder.'
    'Perhaps that could have been a guest in the house,' Sergeant Cadwallader suggested helpfully.
    'Perhaps,' the inspector agreed. 'But I understand from Mrs Warwick that there were no visitors to the house yesterday. That manservant - Angell - might be able to tell us more. Go and fetch him, would you?'
    'Yes, sir,' said Cadwallader as he went out. Left alone, the inspector spread out his own left hand on the table, and bent over the chair as if looking down at an invisible occupant. Then he went to the window and stepped outside, glancing both to left and right. He examined the lock of the french windows, and was turning back into the room when the sergeant returned, bringing with him Richard Warwick's valet-attendant, Angell, who was wearing a grey alpaca jacket, white shirt, dark tie and striped trousers.
    'You're Henry Angell?' the inspector asked him.
    'Yes, sir,' Angell replied.
    'Sit down there, will you?' said the inspector.
    Angell moved to sit on the sofa. 'Now then,' the inspector continued, 'you've been nurse-attendant and valet to Mr Richard Warwick - for how long?'
    'For three and a half years, sir,' replied Angell. His manner was correct, but there was a shifty look in his eyes.
    'Did you like the job?'
    'I found it quite satisfactory, sir,' was Angell's reply.
    'What was Mr Warwick like to work for?' the inspector asked him.
    'Well, he was difficult.'
    'But there were advantages, were there?'
    'Yes, sir,' Angell admitted. 'I was extremely well paid.'
    'And that made up for the other disadvantages, did it?' the inspector persisted.
    'Yes, sir. I am trying to accumulate a little nest-egg.'
    The inspector seated himself in the armchair, placing the gun on the table beside him. 'What were you doing before you came to Mr Warwick?' he asked Angell.
    'The same sort of job, sir. I can show you my references,' the valet replied. I've always given satisfaction, I hope. I've had some rather difficult employers - or patients, really. Sir James Walliston, for example. He is now a voluntary patient in a mental home. A very difficult person, sir.' He lowered his voice slightly before adding, 'Drugs!'
    'Quite,' said the inspector. 'There was no question of drugs with Mr Warwick,