The Man in the Brown Suit - Agatha Christie (read dune txt) 📗

in my time at Cambridge, and it was comparatively easy for me to transform myself into a grave bearded gentleman of middle age. I avoided Carton carefully on board the boat, keeping to my own cabin as far as possible under the pretence of illness.

“I had no difficulty in trailing him when we got to London. He went straight to an hotel and did not go out until the following day. He left the hotel shortly before one o’clock. I was behind him. He went straight to a house-agent in Knightsbridge. There he asked for particulars of houses to let on the river.

“I was at the next table also inquiring about houses. Then suddenly in walked Anita Grünberg, Nadina—whatever you like to call her. Superb, insolent, and almost as beautiful as ever. God! how I hated her. There she was, the woman who had ruined my life—and who had also ruined a better life than mine. At that minute I could have put my hands round her neck and squeezed the life out of her inch by inch! Just for a minute or two I saw red. I hardly took in what the agent was saying. It was her voice that I heard next, high and clear, with an exaggerated foreign accent: ‘The Mill House, Marlow. The property of Sir Eustace Pedler. That sounds as though it might suit me. At any rate, I will go and see it.’

“The man wrote her an order, and she walked out again in her regal insolent manner. Not by word or a sign had she recognized Carton, yet I was sure that their meeting there was a preconceived plan. Then I started to jump to conclusions. Not knowing that Sir Eustace was at Cannes, I thought that this house-hunting business was a mere pretext for meeting him in the Mill House. I knew that he had been in South Africa at the time of the robbery, and never having seen him I immediately leaped to the conclusion that he himself was the mysterious ‘Colonel’ of whom I had heard so much.

“I followed my two suspects along Knightsbridge. Nadina went into the Hyde Park Hotel. I quickened my pace and went in also. She walked straight into the restaurant, and I decided that I would not risk her recognizing me at the moment, but would continue to follow Carton. I was in great hopes that he was going to get the diamonds, and that by suddenly appearing and making myself known to him when he least expected it I might startle the truth out of him. I followed him down into the Tube station at Hyde Park Corner. He was standing by himself at the end of the platform. There was some girl standing near, but no one else. I decided that I would accost him then and there. You know what happened. In the sudden shock of seeing a man whom he imagined far away in South Africa, he lost his head and stepped back upon the line. He was always a coward. Under the pretext of being a doctor, I managed to search his pockets. There was a wallet with some notes in it and one or two unimportant letters, there was a roll of films—which I must have dropped somewhere later—and there was a piece of paper with an appointment made on it for the 22nd on the Kilmorden Castle. In my haste to get away before any one detained me, I dropped that also, but fortunately I remembered the figures.

“I hurried to the nearest cloak-room and hastily removed my make-up. I did not want to be laid by the heels for picking a dead man’s pocket. Then I retraced my steps to the Hyde Park Hotel. Nadina was still having lunch. I needn’t describe in detail how I followed her down to Marlow. She went into the house, and I spoke to the woman at the lodge, pretending that I was with her. Then I, too, went in.”

He stopped. There was a tense silence.

“You will believe me, Anne, won’t you? I swear before God that what I am going to say is true. I went into the house after her with something very like murder in my heart—and she was dead! I found her in that first-floor room—God! It was horrible. Dead—and I was not more than three minutes behind her. And there was no sign of any one else in the house! Of course I realized at once the terrible position I was in. By one master-stroke the blackmailed had rid himself of the blackmailer, and at the same time had provided a victim to whom the crime would be ascribed. The hand of the ‘Colonel’ was very plain. For the second time I was to be his victim. Fool that I had been to walk into the trap so easily.

“I hardly know what I did next. I managed to go out of the place looking fairly normal, but I knew that it could not be long before the crime was discovered and a description of my appearance telegraphed all over the country.

“I lay low for some days, not daring to make a move. In the end chance came to my aid. I overheard a conversation between two middle-aged gentlemen in the street, one of whom proved to be Sir Eustace Pedler. I at once conceived the idea of attaching myself to him as his secretary. The fragment of conversation I had overheard gave me my clue. I was now no longer so sure that Sir Eustace Pedler was the ‘Colonel.’ His house might have been appointed as a rendezvous by accident, or for some obscure motive that I had not fathomed.”

“Do you know,” I interrupted, “that Guy Pagett was in Marlow at the date of the murder?”

“That settles it then. I thought he was at Cannes with Sir Eustace.”

“He was supposed to be in Florence—but he certainly never went there. I’m pretty certain he was really in Marlow, but of course I can’t prove it.”

“And to think I never suspected Pagett for a minute until the night he tried to throw you overboard. The man’s a marvellous actor.”

“Yes, isn’t he?”

“That explains why the Mill House was chosen. Pagett could probably get in and out of it unobserved. Of course he made no objection to my accompanying Sir Eustace across in the boat. He didn’t want me laid by the heels immediately. You see, evidently Nadina didn’t bring the jewels with her to the rendezvous as they had counted on her doing. I fancy that Carton really had them and concealed them somewhere on the Kilmorden Castle—that’s where he came in. They hoped that I might have some clue as to where they were hidden. As long as the ‘Colonel’ did not recover the diamonds, he was still in danger—hence his anxiety to get them at all costs. Where the devil Carton hid them—if he did hide them, I don’t know.”

“That’s another story,” I quoted. “My story. And I’m going to tell it you now.”

CHAPTER XXVII

Harry listened attentively whilst I recounted all the events that I have narrated in these pages. The thing that bewildered and astonished him most was to find that all along the diamonds had been in my possession—or rather in Suzanne’s. That was a fact he had never suspected. Of course, after hearing his story, I realized the point of Carton’s little arrangement—or rather Nadina’s, since I had no doubt that it was her brain which had conceived the plan. No surprise tactics executed against her or her husband could result in the seizure of the diamonds. The secret was locked in her own brain, and the “Colonel” was not likely to guess that they had been entrusted to the keeping of an ocean steward!

Harry’s vindication from the old charge of theft seemed assured. It was the other, graver charge that paralyzed all our activities. For, as things stood, he could not come out in the open to prove his case.

The one thing we came back to, again and again, was the identity of the “Colonel.” Was he, or was he not, Guy Pagett?

“I should say he was but for one thing,” said Harry. “It seems pretty much of a certainty that it was Pagett who murdered Anita Grünberg at Marlow—and that certainly lends colour to the supposition that he is actually the ‘Colonel,’ since Anita’s business was not of the nature to be discussed with a subordinate. No—the only thing that militates against that theory is the attempt to put you out of the way on the night of your arrival here. You saw Pagett left behind at Cape Town—by no possible means could he have arrived here before the following Wednesday. He is unlikely to have any emissaries in this part of the world, and all his plans were laid to deal with you in Cape Town. He might, of course, have cabled instructions to some lieutenant of his in Johannesburg, who could have joined the Rhodesian train at Mafeking, but his instructions would have had to be particularly definite to allow of that note being written.”

We sat silent for a moment, then Harry went on slowly: “You say that Mrs. Blair was asleep when you left the hotel and that you heard Sir Eustace dictating to Miss Pettigrew? Where was Colonel Race?”

“I could not find him anywhere.”

“Had he any reason to believe that—you and I might be friendly with each other?”

“He might have had,” I answered thoughtfully, remembering our conversation on the way back from the Matoppos. “He’s a very powerful personality,” I continued, “but not at all my idea of the ‘Colonel.’ And, anyway, such an idea would be absurd. He’s in the Secret Service.”

“How do we know that he is? It’s the easiest thing in the world to throw out a hint of that kind. No one contradicts it, and the rumour spreads until every one believes it as gospel truth. It provides an excuse for all sorts of doubtful doings. Anne, do you like Race?”

“I do—and I don’t. He repels me and at the same time fascinates me; but I know one thing, I’m always a little afraid of him.”

“He was in South Africa, you know, at the time of the Kimberley robbery,” said Harry slowly.

“But it was he who told Suzanne all about the ‘Colonel’ and how he had been in Paris trying to get on his track.”

“Camouflage—of a particularly clever kind.”

“But where does Pagett come in? Is he in Race’s pay?”

“Perhaps,” said Harry slowly, “he doesn’t come in at all.”

“What?”

“Think back, Anne. Did you ever hear Pagett’s own account of that night on the Kilmorden?”

“Yes—through Sir Eustace.”

I repeated it. Harry listened closely.

“He saw a man coming from the direction of Sir Eustace’s cabin and followed him up on deck. Is that what he says? Now, who had the cabin opposite to Sir Eustace? Colonel Race. Supposing Colonel Race crept up on deck, and, foiled in his attack on you, fled round the deck and met Pagett just coming through the saloon door. He knocks him down and springs inside, closing the door. We dash round and find Pagett lying there. How’s that?”

“You forget that he declares positively it was you who knocked him down.”

“Well, suppose that just as he regains consciousness he sees me disappearing in the distance? Wouldn’t he take it for granted that I was his assailant? Especially as he thought all along it was I he was following?”

“It’s possible, yes,” I said slowly. “But it alters all our ideas. And there are other things.”

“Most of them are open to explanation. The man who followed you in Cape Town spoke to Pagett, and Pagett looked at his watch. The man might have merely asked him the time.”

“It was just a coincidence, you mean?”

“Not exactly. There’s a method in all this, connecting Pagett with the affair. Why was the Mill House chosen for the murder? Was it because Pagett had been in Kimberley when the