Free The Sittaford Mystery by Agatha Christie Page B

get on with it, man?”
    Inspector Narracott looked exceedingly stolid and unintelligent.
    “I am investigating the death of your uncle, Captain Joseph Trevelyan. May I ask you, sir, if you have anything to say?”
    The young man rose slowly to his feet and said in a low strained voice:
    “Are you - arresting me?”
    “No, sir, I am not. If I was arresting you I would give you the customary caution. I am simply asking you to account for your movements yesterday afternoon. You may reply to my questions or not as you see fit.”
    “And if I don't reply to them - it will tell against me. Oh, yes, I know your little ways. You've found out then that I was down there yesterday?”
    “You signed your name in the hotel register, Mr Pearson.”
    “Oh, I suppose there's no use denying it. I was there - why shouldn't I be?”
    “Why indeed?” said the Inspector mildly.
    “I went down there to see my uncle.”
    “By appointment?”
    “What do you mean, by appointment?”
    “Did your uncle know you were coming?”
    “I - no - he didn't. It - it was a sudden impulse.”
    “No reason for it?”
    “I - reason? No - no, why should there be? I - I just wanted to see my uncle.”
    “Quite so, sir. And you did see him?”
    There was a pause - a very long pause. Indecision was written on every feature of the young man's face. Inspector Narracott felt a kind of pity as he watched him. Couldn't the boy see that his palpable indecision was as good as an admission of the fact?
    At last Jim Pearson drew a deep breath. “I - I suppose I had better make a clean breast of it. Yes - I did see him. I asked at the station how I could get to Sittaford. They told me it was out of the question. The roads were impassable for any vehicle. I said it was urgent.”
    “Urgent?” murmured the Inspector.
    “I - I wanted to see my uncle very much.”
    “So it seems, sir.”
    “The porter continued to shake his head and say that it was impossible. I mentioned my uncle's name and at once his face cleared up, and he told me my uncle was actually in Exhampton, and gave me full directions as to how to find the house he had rented.”
    “This was at what time, sir?”
    “About one o'clock, I think. I went to the Inn - the Three Crowns - booked a room and had some lunch there. Then afterwards I - I went out to see my uncle.”
    “Immediately afterwards?”
    “No, not immediately.”
    “What time was it?”
    “Well, I couldn't say for certain.”
    “Half past three? Four o'clock? Half past four?”
    “I - I -” he stammered worse than ever. “I don't think it could have been as late as that.”
    “Mrs Belling, the proprietress, said you went out at half past four.”
    “Did I? I - I think she's wrong. It couldn't have been as late as that.”
    “What happened next?”
    “I found my uncle's house, had a talk with him and came back to the Inn.”
    “How did you get into your uncle's house?”
    “I rang the bell and he opened the door to me himself.”
    “Wasn't he surprised to see you?”
    “Yes - yes - he was rather surprised.”
    “How long did you remain with him, Mr Pearson?”
    “A quarter of an hour - twenty minutes. But look here, he was perfectly all right when I left him. Perfectly all right. I swear it.”
    “And what time did you leave him?”
    The young man lowered his eyes. Again, the hesitation was palpable in his tone, “I don't know exactly.”
    “I think you do, Mr Pearson.”
    The assured tone had its effect. The boy replied in a low tone.
    “It was a quarter past five.”
    “You returned to the Three Crowns at a quarter to six. At most it could only take you seven or eight minutes to walk over from your uncle's house.”
    “I didn't go straight back. I walked about the town.”
    “In that icy weather - in the snow!”
    “It wasn't actually snowing then. It came on to snow later.”
    “I see. And what was the nature of your conversation with your uncle?”
    “Oh! nothing in particular. I - I just wanted to