The Murder at the Vicarage-8
The Murder at the Vicarage
Chapter Eight
We were rather silent on our way down to the police station.
Haydock drew behind a little and murmured to me.
"You know I don’t like the look of this. I don’t like
it. There’s something here we don’t understand.
He looked thoroughly worried and upset.
Inspector Slack was at the police station, and presently we found
ourselves face to face with Lawrence Redding.
He looked pale and strained but quite composed – marvelously so, I
thought, considering the circumstances. Melchett snorted and hummed, obviously nervous.
"Look here, Redding," he said. "I understand you made a
statement to Inspector Slack here. You state you went to the Vicarage at approximately a
quarter to seven, found Protheroe there, quarreled with him, shot him and came away.
I’m not reading it over to you, but that’s the fist of it."
"Yes."
"I’m going to ask you a few questions. You’ve already
been told that you needn’t answer them unless you choose. You solicitor…"
Lawrence interrupted. "I’ve nothing to hide. I killed
Protheroe."
"Ah! Well…" Melchett snorted. "How did you happen
to have a pistol with you?"
Lawrence hesitated. "It was in my pocket."
"You took it with you to the Vicarage?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I always take it."
He had hesitated again before answering, and I was absolutely sure that
he was not speaking the truth.
"Why did you put the clock back?"
"The clock?"
He seemed puzzled.
"Yes, the hands pointed to six twenty – two."
A look of fear sprang up in his face. "Oh, that – yes. I
– I altered it."
Haydock spoke suddenly. "Where did you shoot Colonel
Protheroe?"
"In the study at the Vicarage."
"I mean in what part of the body?"
"Oh! I – through the head I think. Yes, through the
head."
"Aren’t you sure?"
"Since you know, I can’t see why it is necessary to ask
me."
It was a feeble kind of bluster. There was some commotion outside. A
constable without a helmet brought in a note.
"For the Vicar. It says very urgent on it."
I tore it open and read.
Please – please – come to me. I don’t know what to do.
It is all too awful. I want to tell someone. Please come immediately, and bring anyone you
like with you. Anne Protheroe.
I gave Malchett a meaning glance. He took the hint. We all went out
together. Glancing over my shoulder I had a glimpse of Lawrence Redding’s face. His
eyes were riveted on the paper in my hand, and I have hardly ever seen such a terrible
look of anguish and despair in any human being’s face.
I remembered Anne Protheroe sitting on my sofa and saying,
"I’m a desperate woman"; and my heart grew heavy within me. I saw now the
possible reason for Lawrence Redding’s heroic self – accusation.
Melchett was speaking to Slack.
"Have you got any line on Redding’s movements earlier in the
day? There’s some reason to think he shot Protheroe earlier than he says. Get on to
it, will you?"
He turned to me, and without a word I handed him Anne Protheroe’s
letter. He read it and pursed up his lips in astonishment. Then he looked at me
inquiringly.
"Is this what you were hinting at this morning?"
"Yes, I was not sure then if it was my duty to speak. I am quite
sure now." And I told him of what I had seen that night in the studio.
The Colonel had a few words with the Inspector, and then we set off for
Old Hall. Dr. Haydock came with us.
A very correct butler opened the door, with just the right amount of
gloom in his bearing.
"Good morning," said Melchett. "Will you ask Mrs.
Protheroe’s maid to tell her we are here and would like to see her; and then return
here and answer a few questions."
The butler hurried away, and presently returned with the news that he
had dispatched the massage.
"Now, let’s hear something about yesterday," said
Colonel Melchett. "Your master was in to lunch?"
"Yes, sir."
"And in his usual spirits?"
"As far as I could see; yes, sir."
"What happened after that?"
"After luncheon Mrs. Protheroe went to lie down, and the Colonel
went to his study. Miss Lettice went out to a tennis party in the two –seater.
Colonel and Mrs. Protheroe had tea at four – thirty, in the drawing – room. The
car was ordered for five – thirty to take them to the village. Immediately after they
had left, Mr. Clement rang up." He bowed to me. "I told him they had
started."
"H’m," said Colonel Melchett. "When was Mr. Redding
last here?"
"On Tuestday afternoon, sir."
"I understand that there was a disagreement between them?"
"I believe so, sir. The Colonel gave me orders that Mr. Redding
was not to be admitted in future."
"Did you overhear the quarrel at all?" Asked Colonel Melchett
bluntly.
Colonel Protheroe, sir, had a very loud voice, especially when it was
raised in an anger. I was able to help overhearing a few words here and there."
"Enough to tell you the cause of the dispute?"
"I understood, sir, that it had to do with a portrait Mr. Redding
had been painting – a portrait of Miss Lettice."
Melchett grunted. "Did you see Mr. Redding when he left?"
"Yes, sir; I let him out."
"Did he seem angry?"
"No, sir’; if I may say so, he seemed rather smused."
"Ah! He didn’t come to the house yesterday?"
"No, sir."
"Anyone else come?"
"Not yesterday, sir."
"Well, the day before?"
"Mr. Dennis Clement came in the afternoon. And Doctor Stone was
here for some time. And there was a lady in the evening."
"A lady?" Melchett was surprised. "Who was she?"
The butler couldn’t remember her name. It was a lady he had not
seen before. Yes, she had given her name, and when he told her that the family was at
dinner, she had said that she would wait. So he had shown her into the little morning
room.
She had asked for Colonel Protheroe, not Mrs. Protheroe. He had told
the Colonel, and the Colonel had gone to the morning room directly dinner was over.
How long had the lady stayed? He thought about half an hour. The
Colonel himself had let her out. Ah, yes, he remembered her name now. The lady had been a
Mrs. Lestrange.
This was a surprise.
"Curious," said Melchett. "Really very curious."
But we pursued the matter no further, for at that moment a message came
that Mrs. Protheroe would see us.
Anne was in bed. Her face was pale and her eyes very bright. There was
a look on her face that puzzled me – a kind of grim determination.
She spoke to me.
"Thank you for coming so promptly," she said. "I see
you’re understood what I meant by bringing anyone you liked with you."
She paused.
"It’s best to get it over quickly, isn’t it?" she
said. She gave a queer, half – pathetic little smile. "I suppose you’re the
person I ought to say it to, Colonel Melchett. You see, it was I who killed my
husband."
Colonel Melchett said gently, "My dear Mrs. Protheroe…"
"Oh, it’s quite true. I suppose I’ve said it rather
bluntly, but I never can go into hysterics over anything. I’ve hated him for a long
time, and yesterday I shot him."
She lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes.
"That’s all. I suppose you’ll arrest me and take me
away. I’ll get up and dress as soon as I can. At the moment I am feeling rather
sick."
"Are you aware, Mrs. Protheroe, that Mr. Lawrence Redding has
already accused himself of committing the crime?"
Anne opened her eyes and nodded brightly.
"I know. Silly boy. He’s very much in love with me, you know.
It was frightfully noble of him – but very silly."
"He knew that it was you who had committed the crime?"
"Yes."
"How did he know?"
She hesitated.
"Did you tell him?"
Still she hesitated. Then at last she seemed to make up her mind.
"Yes – I told him."
She twitched her shoulders with a movement of irritation.
"Can’t you go away now? I’ve told you. I don’t want
to talk about it any more."
"Where did you get the pistol, Mrs. Protheroe?"
"The pistol? Oh! It was my husband’s. I got it out of the
drawer of his dressing table."
"I see. And you took it with you to the Vicarage?"
"Yes. I knew he would be there…"
"What time was this?"
"It must have been after six – quarter – twenty past
– something like that."
"You took the pistol meaning to shoot your husband?"
"No – I – I meant it for myself."
"I see. But you went to the Vicarage?
"Yes. I went along to the window. There were no voices. I looked
in. I saw my husband. Something came over me – and I fired."
"And then?"
"Then? Oh, then I went away."
"And told Mr. Redding what you had done?"
Again I noticed the hesitation in her voice before she said.
"Yes."
"Did anybody see you entering or leaving the Vicarage?"
"No – at least, yes. Old Miss Marple. I talked to her a few
minutes. She was in her garden."
She moved restlessly on the pillows.
"Isn’t that enough? I’ve told you. Why do you want to go
on bothering me?"
Dr. Haydock moved to her side and felt her pulse.
He beckoned to Melchett.
"I’ll stay with her," he said in a whisper, "while
you make the necessary arrangements. She oughtn’t to be left. Might do herself a
mischief."
Melchett nodded.
We left the room and descended the stairs. I saw a thin, cadaverous
– looking man come out of the adjoining room and, on impulse, I remounted the stairs.
"Are you Colonel Protheroe’s valet?"
The man looked surprised. "Yes, sir."
"Do you know whether your late master kept a pistol
anywhere?"
"Not that I know of sir."
"Not in one of the drawers of his dressing table? Think,
man."
The valet shook his head decisively.
"I’m quite sure he didn’t, sir. I’d have seen it if
so. Bound to."
I hurried down the stairs after the others.
Mrs. Protheroe had lied about the pistol.
Why?
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