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They Do It With Mirrors - Christie Agatha - Страница 17


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Miss Bellever added rather grimly:

'You don't expect murder and attempted murder in the same house on the same night.'

Inspector Curry acknowledged the truth of that.

'All the same,' said Miss Believer, suddenly, 'you know, I believe that's what made me go along to Mr Gulbrandsen's room later. I did mean to ask him if he would like anything, but it was a kind of excuse to reassure myself that everything was all right.' Inspector Curry stared at her for a moment.

'What made you think it mightn't be all right?' 'I don't know. I think it was the shot outside. It hadn't meant anything at the time. But afterwards it came back into my mind. I told myself that it was only a backfire from Mr Restarick's car ' 'Mr Restarick's car?' 'Yes. Alex Restarick. He arrived by car this evening he arrived just after all this happened.' 'I see. When you discovered Mr Gulbrandsen's body, did you touch anything in the room?' 'Of course not.' Miss Bellever sounded reproachful.

'Naturally I knew that nothing must be touched or moved. Mr Gulbrandsen had been shot through the head but there was no firearm to be seen, so I knew it was murder.' 'And just now, when you took us into the room, everything was exactly as it had been when you found the body?' Miss Bellever considered. She sat back screwing up her eyes. She had Inspector Curry thought, one of those photographic memories.

'One thing was different,' she said. 'There was nothing in the typewriter.' 'You mean,' said Inspector Curry, 'that when you first went in Mr Gulbrandsen had been writing a letter on the typewriter, and that that letter had since been removed?' 'Yes, I'm almost sure that I saw the white edge of the paper sticking up.'

'Thank you, Miss Believer. Who else went into that room before we arrived?'

'Mr Serrocold, of course. He remained there when I came to meet you. And Mrs Serrocold and Miss Marple went there. Mrs Serrocold insisted.'

'Mrs Serrocold and Miss Marple,' said Inspector Curry. 'Which is Miss Marple?'

'The old lady with white hair. She was a school friend of Mrs Serrocold's. She came on a visit about four days ago.'

'Well, thank you, Miss Believer. All that you have told us is quite clear. I'll go into things with Mr Serrocold now. Ah, but perhaps - Miss Marple's an old lady, isn't she? I'll just have a word with her first and then she can go off to bed. Rather cruel to keep an old lady like that up,' said Inspector Curry virtuously. 'This must have been a shock to her.'

'I'll tell her, shall I?'

'If you please.'

Miss Bellever went out. Inspector Curry looked at the ceiling.

'Gulbrandsen?' he said. 'Why Gulbrandsen? Two hundred odd maladjusted youngsters on the premises.

No reason any of them shouldn't have done it. Probably one of them did. But why Gulbrandsen? The stranger within the gates.'

Sergeant Lake said: 'Of course we don't know every-thing yet.'

Inspector Curry said:

'So far, we don't know anything at all.'

He jumped up and was gallant when Miss Marple came in. She seemed a little flustered and he hurried to put her at her ease. know, I believe that's what made me go along to Mr Gulbrandsen's room later. I did mean to ask him if he would like anything, but it was a kind of excuse to reassure myself that everything was all right.' Inspector Curry stared at her for a moment.

'What made you think it mightn't be all right?' 'I don't know. I think it was the shot outside. It hadn't meant anything at the time. But afterwards it came back into my mind. I told myself that it was only a backfire from Mr Restarick's car ' 'Mr Restarick's car?' 'Yes. Alex Restarick. He arrived by car this evening he arrived just after all this happened.' 'I see. When you discovered Mr Gulbrandsen's body, did you touch anything in the room?' 'Of course not.' Miss Bellever sounded reproachful.

'Naturally I knew that nothing must be touched or moved. Mr Gulbrandsen had been shot through the head but there was no firearm to be seen, so I knew it was murder.' 'And just now, when you took us into the room, everything was exactly as it had been when you found the body?' Miss Bellever considered. She sat back screwing up her eyes. She had Inspector Curry thought, one of those photographic memories.

'One thing was different,' she said. 'There was nothing in the typewriter.' 'You mean,' said Inspector Curry, 'that when you first went in Mr Gulbrandsen had been writing a letter on the typewriter, and that that letter had since been removed?' 'Yes, I'm almost sure that I saw the white edge of the paper sticking up.'

'Thank you, Miss Believer. Who else went into that room before we arrived?' 'Mr Serrocold, of course. He remained there when I came to meet you. And Mrs Serrocold and Miss Marple went there. Mrs Serrocold insisted.' 'Mrs Serrocold and Miss Marple,' said Inspector Curry. 'Which is Miss Marple?' 'The old lady with white hair. She was a school friend of Mrs Serrocold's. She came on a visit about four days ago.' 'Well, thank you, Miss Believer. All that you have told us is quite clear. I'll go into things with Mr Serrocold now. Ah, but perhaps - Miss Marple's an old lady, isn't she? I'll just have a word with her first and then she can go off to bed. Rather cruel to keep an old lady like that up,' said Inspector Curry virtuously. 'This must have been a shock to her.' 'I'll tell her, shall I?' 'If you please.' Miss Believer went out. Inspector Curry looked at the ceiling.

'Gulbrandsen?' he said. 'Why Gulbrandsen? Two hundred odd maladjusted youngsters on the premises.

No reason any of them shouldn't have done it. Probably one of them did. But why Gulbrandsen? The stranger within the gates.' Sergeant Lake said: 'Of course we don't know everything yet.' Inspector Curry said: 'So far, we don't know anything at all.' He jumped up and was gallant when Miss Marple came in. She seemed a little flustered and he hurried to put her at her ease.

'Now don't upset yourself, m'am.' The old ones like M'am, he thought. To them, police officers were definitely of the lower classes and should show respect to their betters. 'This is all very distressing, I know. But we've just got to get the facts clear. Get it all clear.' 'Oh yes, I know,' said Miss Marple. 'So difficult, isn't it? To be clear about anything, I mean. Because if you're looking at one thing, you can't be looking at another. And one so often looks at the wrong thing, though whether because one happens to do so or because you're meant to, it's very hard to say. Misdirection, the conjurers call it. So clever, aren't they? And I never have known how they manage with a bowl of goldfish - because really that cannot fold up small, can it?' Inspector Curry blinked a little and said soothingly: 'Quite so. Now, m'am, I've had an account of this evening's events from Miss Believer. A most anxious time for all of you, I'm sure.' 'Yes, indeed. It was all so dramatic, you know.' 'First this to-do between Mr Serrocold and' - he looked down at a note he had made - 'this Edgar Lawson.' 'A very odd young man,' said Miss Marple. 'I have felt all along that there was something wrong about him.' 'I'm sure you have,' said Inspector Curry. 'And then, after that excitement was over, there came Mr Gulbrandsen's death. I understand that you went with Mrs Serrocold to see the - er - the body.' 'Yes, I did. She asked me to come with her. We are very old friends.' 'Quite so. And you went along to Mr Gulbrandsen's room. Did you touch anything while you were in the room, either of you?'

'Oh no. Mr Serrocold warned us not to.' 'Did you happen to notice, ma'm, whether there was a letter or a piece of paper, say, in the typewriter?' 'There wasn't,' said Miss Marple promptly. 'I noticed that at once because it seemed to me odd. Mr Gulbrandsen was sitting there at the typewriter so he must have been typing something. Yes, I thought it very odd.' Inspector Curry looked at her sharply. He said: 'Did you have much conversation with Mr Gulbrandsen while he was here?' 'Very little.' 'There is nothing especial - or significant that you can remember?' Miss Marple considered.

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Christie Agatha - They Do It With Mirrors They Do It With Mirrors
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