Free Curtain by Agatha Christie Page B

would prefer to see Allerton the victim! One ought to be able to find motives easily for doing away with him. Miss Cole, though not young, was still a good-looking woman. She might, conceivably, be actuated by jealousy if she and Allerton had ever been on intimate terms, though I had no reason to believe that that was the case. Besides, if Allerton was X -
    I shook my head impatiently. All this was getting me nowhere. A footstep on the gravel below attracted my attention. It was Franklin walking rapidly towards the house, his hands in his pockets, his head thrust forward. His whole attitude was one of dejection. Seeing him thus, off guard, I was struck by the fact that he looked a thoroughly unhappy man.
    I was so busy staring at him that I did not hear a footfall nearer at hand and turned with a start when Miss Cole spoke to me.
    “I didn't hear you coming,” I explained apologetically as I sprang up.
    She was examining the summerhouse.
    “What a Victorian relic!”
    “Isn't it? It's rather spidery, I'm afraid. Do sit down. I'll dust the seat for you.”
    For it occurred to me that here was a chance to get to know one of my fellow guests a little better. I studied Miss Cole covertly as I brushed away cobwebs.
    She was a woman of between thirty and forty, slightly haggard, with a clear-cut profile and really very beautiful eyes. There was about her an air of reserve, more - of suspicion. It came to me suddenly that this was a woman who had suffered and who was, in consequence, deeply distrustful of life. I felt that I would like to know more about Elizabeth Cole.
    “There,” I said with a final flick of the handkerchief, “that's the best I can do.”
    “Thank you.” She smiled and sat down. I sat down beside her. The seat creaked ominously, but no catastrophe occurred.
    Miss Cole said:
    “Do tell me, what were you thinking about when I came up to you? You seemed quite sunk in thought.”
    I said slowly:
    “I was watching Dr Franklin.”
    “Yes?”
    I saw no reason for not repeating what had been in my mind.
    “It struck me that he looked a very unhappy man.”
    The woman beside me said quietly:
    “But of course he is. You must have realized that.”
    I think I showed my surprise. I said, stammering slightly:
    “No - no - I haven't. I've always thought of him as absolutely wrapped up in his work.”
    “So he is.”
    “Do you call that unhappiness? I should have said it was the happiest state imaginable.”
    “Oh yes, I'm not disputing it - but not if you're hampered from doing what you feel it's in you to do. If you can't, that is to say, produce your best.”
    I looked at her, feeling rather puzzled. She went on to explain.
    “Last autumn, Dr Franklin was offered the chance of going out to Africa and continuing his research work there. He's tremendously keen, as you know, and has really done first-class work already in the realm of tropical medicine.”
    “And he didn't go?”
    “No. His wife protested. She herself wasn't well enough to stand the climate and she kicked against the idea of being left behind, especially as it would have meant very economical living for her. The pay offered was not high.”
    “Oh,” I said. I went on slowly: “I suppose he felt that in her state of health he couldn't leave her.”
    “Do you know much about her state of health, Captain Hastings?”
    “Well, I - no - But she is an invalid, isn't she?”
    “She certainly enjoys bad health,” said Miss Cole drily. I looked at her doubtfully. It was easy to see that her sympathies were entirely with the husband.
    “I suppose,” I said slowly, “that women who are - delicate are apt to be selfish?”
    “Yes, I think invalids - chronic invalids - usually are very selfish. One can't blame them perhaps. It's so easy.”
    “You don't think that there's really very much the matter with Mrs Franklin?”
    “Oh, I shouldn't like to say that. It's just a suspicion. She always seems able to do anything she wants to do.”
    I