The Murder at the Vicarage by Agatha Christie

“Yes,” I said, “it’s not very pleasant.”

“It’s terrible – quite terrible. It seems they haven’t arrested Mr. Redding after all?”

“No. That was a mistake. He made – er – rather a foolish statement.”

“And the police are now quite convinced that he is innocent?”

“Perfectly.”

“Why is that, may I ask? Is it – I mean, do they suspect any one else?”

I should never have supected that Hawes would take such a keen interest in the details of a murder case. Perhaps it is because it happened in the Vicarage. He appeared as eager as a reporter.

“I don’t know that I am completely in Inspector Slack’s confidence. So far as I know, he does not suspect any one in particular. He is at present engaged in making inquiries.”

“Yes. Yes – of course. But who can one imagine doing such a dreadful thing?”

I shook my head.

“Colonel Protheroe was not a popular man, I know that. But murder! For murder – one would need a very strong motive.”

“So I should imagine,” I said.

“Who could have such a motive? Have the police any idea?”

“I couldn’t say.”

“He might have made enemies, you know. The more I think about it, the more I am convinced that he was the kind of man to have enemies. He had a reputation on the Bench for being very severe.”

“I suppose he had.”

“Why, don’t you remember, sir? He was telling you yesterday morning about having been threatened by that man Archer.”

“Now I come to think of it, so he did,” I said. “Of course, I remember. You were quite near us at the time.”

“Yes, I overheard what he was saying. Almost impossible to help it with Colonel Protheroe. He had such a very loud voice, hadn’t he? I remember being impressed by your own words. That when his time came, he might have justice meted out to him instead of mercy.”

“Did I say that?” I asked, frowning. My remembrance of my own words was slightly different.

“You said it very impressively, sir. I was struck by your words. Justice is a terrible thing. And to think the poor man was struck down shortly afterwards. It’s almost as though you had a premonition.”

“I had nothing of the sort,” I said shortly. I rather dislike Hawes’s tendency to mysticism. There is a touch of the visionary about him.

“Have you told the police about this man Archer, sir?”

“I know nothing about him.”

“I mean, have you repeated to them what Colonel Protheroe said – about Archer having threatened him.”

“No,” I said slowly. “I have not.”

“But you are going to do so?”

I was silent. I dislike hounding a man down who has already got the forces of law and order against him. I held no brief for Archer. He is an inveterate poacher – one of those cheerful ne’er-do-weels that are to be found in any parish. Whatever he may have said in the heat of anger when he was sentenced I had no definite knowledge that he felt the same when he came out of prison.

“You heard the conversation,” I said at last. “If you feel it your duty to go to the police with it, you must do so.”

“It would come better from you, sir.”

“Perhaps – but to tell the truth – well, I’ve no fancy for doing it. I might be helping to put the rope round the neck of an innocent man.”

“But if he shot Colonel Protheroe -”

“Oh, if! There’s no evidence of any kind that he did.”

“His threats.”

“Strictly speaking, the threats were not his, but Colonel Protheroe’s. Colonel Protheroe was threatening to show Archer what Vengeance was worth next time he caught him.”

“I don’t understand your attitude, sir.”

“Don’t you,” I said wearily. “You’re a young man. You’re zealous in the cause of right. When you get to my age, you’ll find that you like to give people the benefit of the doubt.”

“It’s not – I mean -”

He paused, and I looked at him in surprise.

“You haven’t any – any idea of your own – as to the identity of the murderer, I mean?”

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