X

A POCKET FULL OF RYE BY AGATHA CHRISTIE

Hotel if anything urgent turns up.”

“Yes, sir.”

199

“And find out anything you can about

blackbirds,” added Neele over his shoulder.

“Blackbirds, sir?” Sergeant Hay repeated,

thoroughly mystified.

“That’s what I said—not blackberry

jelly-blackbirds.”

“Very good, sir,” said Sergeant Hay

bewilderedly.

200

17

NSPECTOR NEELE found Mr. Ansell

the type of solicitor who was more easily

intimidated than intimidating. A member

of a small and not very prosperous firm, he

was anxious not to stand upon his rights but

instead to assist the police in every way

possible.

V

Yes, he said, he had made a will for the late

Mrs. Adele Fortescue. She had called at his

office about five weeks previously. It had

seemed to him rather a peculiar business but

naturally he had not said anything. Peculiar

things did happen in a solicitor’s business,

and of course the Inspector would understand

that discretion, etc., etc. The Inspector

nodded to show he understood. He had

already discovered Mr. Ansell had not transacted

any legal business previously for Mrs.

Fortescue or for any of the Fortescue family.

“Naturally,” said Mr. Ansell, “she didn’t

want to go to her husband’s firm of lawyers

about this.”

Shorn of verbiage, the facts were simple.

201

Adele Fortescue had made a will leaving

everything of which she died possessed to

Vivian Dubois.

“But I gathered,” said Mr. Ansell, looking

at Neele in an interrogating manner, “that

she hadn’t actually much to leave.”

Inspector Neele nodded. At the time Adele

Fortescue made her will that was true

enough. But since then Rex Fortescue had

died, and Adele Fortescue had inherited

100,000 pounds and presumably that 100,000 pounds (less

death duties) now belonged to Vivian Edward

Dubois.

II

At the Golf Hotel, Inspector Neele found

Vivian Dubois nervously awaiting his arrival.

Dubois had been on the point of leaving,

indeed his bags were packed, when he had

received over the telephone a civil request

from Inspector Neele to remain. Inspector

Neele had been very pleasant about it, quite

apologetic. But behind the conventional

words the request had been an order. Vivian

Dubois had demurred, but not too much.

He said now:

202

“I do hope you realise. Inspector Neele, that it is very inconvenient for me to have to

stay on. I really have urgent business that

needs attending to.”

“I didn’t know you were in business, Mr.

Dubois,” said Inspector Neele, genially.

“I’m afraid none of us can be as leisured as

we would like to appear to be nowadays.”

“Mrs. Fortescue’s death must have been a

great shock to you, Mr. Dubois. You were

great friends, were you not?”

“Yes,” said Dubois, “she was a charming

woman. We played golf quite often together.”

“I expect you’ll miss her very much.”

“Yes, indeed.” Dubois sighed. “The whole

thing is really quite, quite terrible.”

“You actually telephoned her, I believe, on

the afternoon of her death?”

“Did I? I really cannot remember now.”

“About four o’clock, I understand.”

“Yes, I believe I did.”

“Don’t you remember what your conversation

was about, Mr. Dubois?”

“It wasn’t of any significance. I think I

asked her how she was feeling and if there

was any further news about her husband’s

death–a more or less conventional inquiry.”

_ “/ see,” said Inspector Neele. He added,

203

“And then you went out for a walk?”

“Er— yes— yes, I—I did, I think. At least,

not a walk, I played a few holes of golf.”

Inspector Neele said gently:

“I think not, Mr. Dubois. . . . Not that

particular day. . . . The porter here noticed

you walking down the road towards Yewtree

Lodge.”

Dubois’s eyes met his, then shied away

again nervously.

“I’m afraid I can’t remember. Inspector.”

“Perhaps you actually went to call upon

Mrs. Fortescue?”

Dubois said sharply:

“No. No, I didn’t do that. I never went

near the house.”

“Where did you go, then?”

“Oh, I—went on down the road, down as

far as the Three Pigeons and then I turned

around and came back by the links.”

“You’re quite sure you didn’t go to

Yewtree Lodge?”

“Quite sure. Inspector.”

The Inspector shook his head.

“Come, now, Mr. Dubois,” he said, “it’s

much better to be frank with us, you know.

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