Read The Complete Tommy & Tuppence Collection Online
Authors: Agatha Christie
Suddenly in a cold tide of fear she thought, “But
I'm
an old woman too. I'm not as strong as I think myself. I'm not as strong as she is. Her hands, her grasp, her fingers. I suppose because she's mad and mad people, I've always heard, are strong.”
The gleaming blade was approaching near her. Tuppence screamed. Down below she heard shouts and blows. Blows now on the doors as though someone were trying to force the doors or windows. “But they'll never get through,” thought Tuppence. “They'll never get through this trick doorway here. Not unless they know the mechanism.”
She struggled fiercely. She was still managing to hold Mrs. Lancaster away from her. But the other was the bigger woman. A big strong woman. Her face was still smiling but it no longer had the benignant look. It had the look now of someone enjoying herself.
“Killer Kate,” said Tuppence.
“You know my nickname? Yes, but I've sublimated that. I've become a killer of the Lord. It's the Lord's will that I should kill you. So that makes it all right. You do see that, don't you? You see, it makes it all right.”
Tuppence was pressed now against the side of a big chair. With one arm Mrs. Lancaster held her against the chair, and the pressure increasedâno further recoil was possible. In Mrs. Lancaster's right hand the sharp steel of the stiletto approached.
Tuppence thought, “I mustn't panicâI mustn't panicâ” But following that came with sharp insistence,
“But what can I do?”
To struggle was unavailing.
Fear came thenâthe same sharp fear of which she had the first indication in Sunny Ridgeâ
“Is it your poor child?”
That had been the first warningâbut she had misunderstood itâshe had not known it was a warning.
Her eyes watched the approaching steel but strangely enough it was not the gleaming metal and its menace that frightened her into a state of paralysis; it was the face above itâit was the smiling benignant face of Mrs. Lancasterâsmiling happily, contentedlyâa woman pursuing her appointed task, with gentle reasonableness.
“She doesn't
look
mad,” thought Tuppenceâ“That's what's so awfulâOf course she doesn't because in her own mind she's sane. She's a perfectly normal, reasonable human beingâthat's what she
thinks
âOh Tommy, Tommy, what have I got myself into this time?”
Dizziness and limpness submerged her. Her muscles relaxedâsomewhere there was a great crash of broken glass. It swept her away, into darkness and unconsciousness.
II
“That's betterâyou're coming roundâdrink this, Mrs. Beresford.”
A glass pressed against her lipsâshe resisted fiercelyâPoisoned milkâwho had said that onceâsomething about “poisoned milk?” She wouldn't drink poisoned milk . . . No, not milkâquite a different smellâ
She relaxed, her lips openedâshe sippedâ
“Brandy,” said Tuppence with recognition.
“Quite right! Go onâdrink some moreâ”
Tuppence sipped again. She leaned back against cushions, surveyed her surroundings. The top of a ladder showed through the window. In front of the window there was a mass of broken glass on the floor.
“I heard the glass break.”
She pushed away the brandy glass and her eyes followed up the hand and arm to the face of the man who had been holding it.
“El Greco,” said Tuppence.
“I beg your pardon.”
“It doesn't matter.”
She looked round the room.
“Where is sheâMrs. Lancaster, I mean?”
“She'sârestingâin the next roomâ”
“I see.” But she wasn't sure that she did see. She would see better presently. Just now only one idea would come at a timeâ
“Sir Philip Starke.” She said it slowly and doubtfully. “That's right?”
“YesâWhy did you say El Greco?”
“Suffering.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“The pictureâIn ToledoâOr in the PradoâI thought so a long time agoâno, not very long agoâ” She thought about itâmade a discoveryâ“Last night. A partyâAt the vicarageâ”
“You're doing fine,” he said encouragingly.
It seemed very natural, somehow, to be sitting here, in this room with broken glass on the floor, talking to this manâwith the dark agonized faceâ
“I made a mistakeâat Sunny Ridge. I was all wrong about herâI was afraid, thenâaâwave of fearâBut I got it wrongâI wasn't afraid of
her
âI was afraid
for
herâI thought something was going to happen to herâI wanted to protect herâto save herâIâ” She looked doubtfully at him. “Do you understand? Or does it sound silly?”
“Nobody understands better than I doânobody in this world.”
Tuppence stared at himâfrowning.
“Whoâwho was she? I mean Mrs. LancasterâMrs. Yorkeâthat's not realâthat's just taken from a rose treeâwho was sheâherself?”
Philip Starke said harshly:
“Who was she? Herself? The real one, the true one
Who was sheâwith God's Sign upon her brow?”
“Did you ever read Peer Gynt, Mrs. Beresford?”
He went to the window. He stood there a moment, looking outâThen he turned abruptly.
“She was my wife, God help me.”
“Your wifeâBut she diedâthe tablet in the churchâ”
“She died abroadâthat was the story I circulatedâAnd I put up a tablet to her memory in the church. People don't like to ask too many questions of a bereaved widower. I didn't go on living here.”
“Some people said she had left you.”
“That made an acceptable story, too.”
“You took her away when you found outâabout the childrenâ”
“So you know about the children?”
“She told meâIt seemedâunbelievable.”
“Most of the time she was quite normalâno one would have guessed. But the police were beginning to suspectâI had to actâI had to save herâto protect herâYou understandâcan you understandâin the very least?”
“Yes,” said Tuppence, “I can understand quite well.”
“She wasâso lovely onceâ” His voice broke a little. “You see herâthere,” he pointed to the painting on the wall. “WaterlilyâShe was a wild girlâalways. Her mother was the last of the Warrendersâan old familyâinbredâHelen Warrenderâran away from home. She took up with a bad lotâa gaolbirdâher daughter went on the stageâshe trained as a dancerâWaterlily was her most popular roleâthen she took up with a criminal gangâfor excitementâpurely to get a kick out of itâShe was always being disappointedâ
“When she married me, she had finished with all thatâshe wanted to settle downâto live quietlyâa family lifeâwith children. I was richâI could give her all the things she wanted. But we had no children. It was a sorrow to both of us. She began to have obsessions of guiltâPerhaps she had always been slightly unbalancedâI don't knowâWhat do causes matter?âShe wasâ”
He made a despairing gesture.
“I loved herâI always loved herâno matter what she wasâwhat she didâI wanted her safeâto keep her safeânot shut upâa prisoner for life, eating her heart out. And we did keep her safeâfor many many years.”
“We?”
“Nellieâmy dear faithful Nellie Bligh. My dear Nellie Bligh. She was wonderfulâplanned and arranged it all. The Homes for the Elderlyâevery comfort and luxury. And no temptationsâ
no children
âkeep children out of her wayâIt seemed to workâthese homes were in faraway placesâCumberlandâNorth Walesâno one was likely to recognize herâor so we thought. It was on Mr. Eccles's adviceâa very shrewd lawyerâhis charges were highâbut I relied on him.”
“Blackmail?” suggested Tuppence.
“I never thought of it like that. He was a friend, and an adviserâ”
“Who painted the boat in the pictureâthe boat called
Waterlily?
”
“I did. It pleased her. She remembered her triumph on the stage. It was one of Boscowan's pictures. She liked his pictures. Then, one day, she wrote a name in black pigment on the bridgeâthe name of a dead childâSo I painted a boat to hide it and labelled the boat
Waterlily
â”
The door in the wall swung openâThe friendly witch came through it.
She looked at Tuppence and from Tuppence to Philip Starke.
“All right again?” she said in a matter-of-fact way.
“Yes,” said Tuppence. The nice thing about the friendly witch, she saw, was that there wasn't going to be any fuss.
“Your husband's down below, waiting in the car. I said I'd bring you down to himâif that's the way you want it?”
“That's the way I want it,” said Tuppence.
“I thought you would.” She looked towards the door into the bedroom. “Is sheâin there?”
“Yes,” said Philip Starke.
Mrs. Perry went to the bedroom. She came out againâ
“I seeâ” She looked at him inquiringly.
“She offered Mrs. Beresford a glass of milkâMrs. Beresford didn't want it.”
“And so, I suppose, she drank it herself?”
He hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Dr. Mortimer will be along later,” said Mrs. Perry.
She came to help Tuppence to her feet, but Tuppence rose unaided.
“I'm not hurt,” she said. “It was just shockâI'm quite all right now.”
She stood facing Philip Starkeâneither of them seemed to have anything to say. Mrs. Perry stood by the door in the wall.
Tuppence spoke at last.
“There is nothing I can do, is there?” she said, but it was hardly a question.
“Only one thingâIt was Nellie Bligh who struck you down in the churchyard that day.”
Tuppence nodded.
“I've realized it must have been.”
“She lost her head. She thought you were on the track of her, of our, secret. SheâI'm bitterly remorseful for the terrible strain I've subjected her to all these long years. It's been more than any woman ought to be asked to bearâ”
“She loved you very much, I suppose,” said Tuppence. “But I don't think we'll go on looking for any Mrs. Johnson, if that is what you want to ask
us
not to do.”
“Thank youâI'm very grateful.”
There was another silence. Mrs. Perry waited patiently. Tuppence looked round her. She went to the broken window and looked at the peaceful canal down below.
“I don't suppose I shall ever see this house again. I'm looking at it very hard, so that I shall be able to remember it.”
“Do you want to remember it?”
“Yes, I do. Someone said to me that it was a house that had been put to the wrong use. I know what they meant now.”
He looked at her questioningly, but did not speak.
“Who sent you here to find me?” asked Tuppence.
“Emma Boscowan.”
“I thought so.”
She joined the friendly witch and they went through the secret door and on down.
A house for lovers, Emma Boscowan had said to Tuppence. Well, that was how she was leaving itâin the possession of two loversâone dead and one who suffered and livedâ
She went out through the door to where Tommy and the car were waiting.
She said goodbye to the friendly witch. She got into the car.
“Tuppence,” said Tommy.
“I know,” said Tuppence.
“Don't do it again,” said Tommy. “Don't ever do it again.”
“I won't.”
“That's what you say now, but you will.”
“No, I shan't. I'm too old.”
Tommy pressed the starter. They drove off.
“Poor Nellie Bligh,” said Tuppence.
“Why do you say that?”
“So terribly in love with Philip Starke. Doing all those things for him all those yearsâsuch a lot of wasted doglike devotion.”
“Nonsense!” said Tommy. “I expect she's enjoyed every minute of it. Some women do.”
“Heartless brute,” said Tuppence.
“Where do you want to goâThe Lamb and Flag at Market Basing?”
“No,” said Tuppence. “I want to go home. H
OME
, Thomas. And stay there.”
“Amen to that,” said Mr. Beresford.
“And if Albert welcomes us with a charred chicken, I'll kill him!”