寓所谜案8

Seven

Colonel Melchett is a dapper little man with a habit of snorting suddenlyand unexpected. He has red hair and rather keen bright blue eyes.

“Good morning, Vicar,” he said. “Nasty business, eh? Poor old Protheroe.

Not that I liked him. I didn’t. Nobody did, for that matter. Nasty bit ofwork for you, too. Hope it hasn’t upset your missus?”

I said Griselda had taken it very well.

“That’s lucky. Rotten thing to happen in one’s house. I must say I’m sur-prised at young Redding—doing it the way he did. No sort of considerationfor anyone’s feelings.”

A wild desire to laugh came over me, but Colonel Melchett evidently sawnothing odd in the idea of a murderer being considerate, so I held mypeace.

“I must say I was rather taken aback when I heard the fellow hadmarched in and given himself up,” continued Colonel Melchett, droppingon to a chair.

“How did it happen exactly?”

“Last night. About ten o’clock. Fellow rolls in, throws down a pistol, andsays: ‘Here I am. I did it.’ Just like that.”

“What account does he give of the business?”

“Precious little. He was warned, of course, about making a statement.

But he merely laughed. Said he came here to see you—found Protheroehere. They had words and he shot him. Won’t say what the quarrel wasabout. Look here, Clement¹—just between you and me, do you know any-thing about it? I’ve heard rumours—about his being forbidden the houseand all that. What was it—did he seduce² the daughter, or what? We don’twant to bring the girl into it more than we can help for everybody’s sake.

Was that the trouble?”

“No,” I said. “You can take it from me that it was something quite differ-ent, but I can’t say more at the present juncture³.”

He nodded and rose.

“I’m glad to know. There’s a lot of talk. Too many women in this part ofthe world. Well, I must get along. I’ve got to see Haydock. He was calledout to some case or other, but he ought to be back by now. I don’t mindtelling you I’m sorry about Redding. He always struck me as a decentyoung chap. Perhaps they’ll think out some kind of defence for him. Af-tereffects of war, shell shock, or something. Especially if no very adequatemotive turns up. I must be off. Like to come along?”

I said I would like to very much, and we went out together.

Haydock’s house is next door to mine. His servant said the doctor hadjust come in and showed us into the dining room, where Haydock was sit-ting down to a steaming plate of eggs and bacon. He greeted me with anamiable nod.

“Sorry I had to go out. Confinement⁵ case. I’ve been up most of the night,over your business. I’ve got the bullet for you.”

He shoved a little box along the table. Melchett examined it.

“Point two five?”

Haydock nodded.

“I’ll keep the technical details for the inquest,” he said. “All you want toknow is that death was practically instantaneous. Silly young fool, whatdid he want to do it for? Amazing, by the way, that nobody heard theshot.”

“Yes,” said Melchett, “that surprises me.”

“The kitchen window gives on the other side of the house,” I said. “Withthe study door, the pantry door, and the kitchen door all shut, I doubt ifyou would hear anything, and there was no one but the maid in thehouse.”

“H’m,” said Melchett. “It’s odd, all the same. I wonder the old lady—what’s her name—Marple, didn’t hear it. The study window was open.”

“Perhaps she did,” said Haydock.

“I don’t think she did,” said I. “She was over at the Vicarage just nowand she didn’t mention anything of the kind which I’m certain she wouldhave done if there had been anything to tell.”

“May have heard it and paid no attention to it—thought it was a carbackfiring.”

It struck me that Haydock was looking much more jovial⁶ and good-hu-moured this morning. He seemed like a man who was decorously trying tosubdue unusually good spirits.

“Or what about a silencer?” he added. “That’s quite likely. Nobodywould hear anything then.”

Melchett shook his head.

“Slack didn’t find anything of the kind, and he asked Redding, and Red-ding didn’t seem to know what he was talking about at first and thendenied point blank using anything of the kind. And I suppose one can takehis word for it.”

“Yes, indeed, poor devil.”

“Damned young fool,” said Colonel Melchett. “Sorry, Clement. But hereally is! Somehow one can’t get used to thinking of him as a murderer.”

“Any motive⁴?” asked Haydock, taking a final draught⁷ of coffee and push-ing back his chair.

“He says they quarrelled and he lost his temper and shot him.”

“Hoping for manslaughter, eh?” The doctor shook his head. “That storydoesn’t hold water. He stole up behind him as he was writing and shothim through the head. Precious little ‘quarrel’ about that.”

“Anyway, there wouldn’t have been time for a quarrel,” I said, remem-bering Miss Marple’s words. “To creep up, shoot him, alter the clock handsback to 6:20, and leave again would have taken him all his time. I shallnever forget his face when I met him outside the gate, or the way he said,‘You want to see Protheroe—oh, you’ll see him all right!’ That in itselfought to have made me suspicious of what had just taken place a fewminutes before.”

Haydock stared at me.

“What do you mean—what had just taken place? When do you thinkRedding shot him?”

“A few minutes before I got to the house.”

The doctor shook his head.

“Impossible. Plumb⁸ impossible. He’d been dead much longer than that.”

“But, my dear man,” cried Colonel Melchett, “you said yourself that halfan hour was only an approximate estimate.”

“Half an hour, thirty-five minutes, twenty-five minutes, twenty minutes—possibly, but less, no. Why, the body would have been warm when I gotto it.”

We stared at each other. Haydock’s face had changed. It had gone sud-denly grey and old. I wondered at the change in him.

“But, look here, Haydock.” The Colonel found his voice. “If Redding ad-mits shooting him at a quarter to seven—”

Haydock sprang to his feet.

“I tell you it’s impossible,” he roared. “If Redding says he killed Pro-theroe at a quarter to seven, then Redding lies. Hang it all, I tell you I’m adoctor, and I know. The blood had begun to congeal⁹.”

“If Redding is lying,” began Melchett. He stopped, shook his head.

“We’d better go down to the police station and see him,” he said.

 

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