The Murder at the Vicarage by Agatha Christie

“Not yet,” said Griselda. “I’ll ring.”

She turned to Miss Marple and I left the room.

CHAPTER VII

Colonel Melchett is a dapper little man with a habit of snorting suddenly and unexpectedly. He has red hair and rather keen bright blue eyes.

“Good-morning, vicar,” he said. “Nasty business, eh? Poor old Protheroe. Not that I liked him. I didn’t. Nobody did, for that matter. Nasty bit of work for you, too. Hope it hasn’t upset your missus?”

I said Griselda had taken it very well.

“That’s lucky. Rotten thing to happen in one’s house. I must say I’m surprised at young Redding – doing it the way he did. No sort of consideration for any one’s feelings.”

A wild desire to laugh came over me, but Colonel Melchett evidently saw nothing odd in the idea of a murderer being considerate, so I held my peace.

“I must say I was rather taken aback when I heard the fellow had marched in and given himself up,” continued Colonel Melchett, dropping on to a chair.

“How did it happen exactly?”

“Last night. About ten o’clock. Fellow rolls in, throws down a pistol, and says: ‘Here I am. I did it.’ Just like that.”

“What account does he give of the business?”

“Precious little. He was warned, of course, about making a statement. But he merely laughed. Said he came here to see you – found Protheroe here. They had words and he shot him. Won’t say what the quarrel was about. Look here, Clement – just between you and me, do you know anything about it? I’ve heard rumours – about his being forbidden the house and all that. What was it – did he seduce the daughter, or what? We don’t want to bring the girl into it more than we can help for everybody’s sake. Was that the trouble?”

“No,” I said. “You can take it from me that it was something quite different, but I can’t say more at the present juncture.”

He nodded and rose.

“I’m glad to know. There’s a lot of talk. Too many women in this part of the world. Well, I must get along. I’ve got to see Haydock. He was called out to some case or other, but he ought to be back by now. I don’t mind telling you I’m sorry about Redding. He always struck me as a decent young chap. Perhaps they’ll think out some kind of defence for him. Aftereffects of war, shell shock, or something. Especially if no very adequate motive turns up. I must be off. Like to come along?”

I said I would like to very much, and we went out together.

Haydock’s house is next door to mine. His servant said the doctor had just come in and showed us into the dining-room, where Haydock was sitting down to a steaming plate of eggs and bacon. He greeted me with an amiable nod.

“Sorry I had to go out. Confinement case. I’ve been up most of the night, over your business. I’ve got the bullet for you.”

He shoved a little box along the table. Melchett examined it.

“Point two five?”

Haydock nodded.

“I’ll keep the technical details for the inquest,” he said. “All you want to know is that death was practically instantaneous. Silly young fool, what did he want to do it for? Amazing, by the way, that nobody heard the shot.”

“Yes,” said Melchett, “that surprises me.”

“The kitchen window gives on the other side of the house,” I said. “With the study door, the pantry door, and the kitchen door all shut, I doubt if you would hear anything, and there was no one but the maid in the house.”

“H’m,” said Melchett. “It’s odd, all the same. I wonder the old lady – what’s her name – Marple, didn’t hear it. The study window was open.”

“Perhaps she did,” said Haydock.

“I don’t think she did,” said I. “She was over at the Vicarage just now and she didn’t mention anything of the kind which I’m certain she would have done if there had been anything to tell.”

“May have heard it and paid no attention to it – thought it was a car back-firing.”

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