Chapter 15 Chapter fifteen

Howes' appearance made me very sad.His hands were trembling, and his face was pinching nervously.In my opinion, he should stay in bed, I told him so.He insisted that he was safe and sound. "I assure you, sir, I couldn't have felt better. Never in my life." This was obviously so exaggerated that even I hardly knew how to answer it.I have a certain admiration for people who don't succumb to disease.But Howes was too contrived. "I have come to tell you how sorry I am—that such a thing should have happened in the vicarage." "Yes," I said, "it's not very pleasant."

"It's dreadful—quite dreadful. As if they haven't caught Mr. Redding?" "No. That was a mistake. He made a—well—a somewhat stupid statement." "The police are pretty sure now, is he innocent?" "Totally convinced." "May I ask why? Because—I mean, do they suspect anyone else?" It never occurred to me that Howes would take such an interest in the details of a murder.Perhaps, because the murder took place in the Vicarage.He seemed as eager as a reporter. "I don't know if Inspector Slack has complete confidence in me. As far as I know, he doesn't particularly suspect anyone. He's proceeding to make inquiries."

"Yes. Yes—of course. But how can a man conceive who has done such a dreadful thing?" I shake my head. "Colonel Protheroe is not a very popular man, I know that. Murder should never have occurred, because a man's murder--very strong motives are required." "I think so too," I said. "Who could possibly have such a motive? What have the police learned?" "I can't tell." "He might have enemies, you know. The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced he's the sort of man who has enemies. He's got a pretty snarky reputation here in March."

"I suppose he has that reputation." "Well, don't you remember, sir? He told you yesterday morning that he was threatened by that man called Archer." "Oh, I remember, he told me," I said, "of course, I remember, you were near us." "Yes, I overheard him. Colonel Protheroe was almost incorrigible. He had a rough voice, didn't he? I remember your words making a deep impression on me. Your words were, when the turn When it comes to him. He can only get justice, not mercy." "Did I say that?" I asked, frowning.I remember my words being slightly different.

"You have made it very clear, sir. I am impressed with your words. Justice is a terrible thing. Just imagine that the poor man will soon be punished. You seem to have a presentiment." "I haven't at all," I said quickly.I really don't like the mystical tendencies of Howes.He has a fantasy-loving character. "Have you informed Kucha of the man Archer, sir?" "I don't know anything about him." "I mean, did you repeat to them what Colonel Protheroe said?" "No," I said slowly. "I don't." "But are you going to do it?"

I am speechless.A man who is already punished and restrained by law and order, I don't like to push him too hard.I don't agree with Archer's approach.He was a hard-boiled veteran poacher--a carefree libertine like that all over my parish.What he may have said in a fit of rage when he was sentenced, I am not sure if he will say the same thing when he gets out. "You heard the conversation," I said finally, "and if you think it's your duty to report it to the police, you must." "It's better for you to report, sir." "Maybe—but honestly—oh, I had no intention of doing it. I might be helping to put the noose around an innocent man's neck."

"But if he kills Colonel Protheroe—" "Oh, if there's no evidence that he did it." "His threats are evidence." "Strictly speaking, the threat came not from him, but from Colonel Protheroe. Colonel Protheroe threatened to show him what his vengeance was worth the next time he was caught." "I do not understand your attitude, sir." "Really?" I said wearily. "You're a young man. You're passionate about the cause of justice. When you get to my age, you see that you like to let people be presumed innocent without enough evidence." the right to sin."

"No—I mean—" He hesitated to speak, and I looked at him in surprise. "I mean, don't you have any—any idea of ​​your own about who the murderer was?" "Thank God, no." Howes still pressed: "And what about the motivation?" "Nope, what about you?" "Me? No, really. I'm just wondering. If Colonel Protheroe trusts—trusts you—to mention anything—" "His trust, that's what it is. Everyone in the village street heard it yesterday morning," I said dryly. "Yes. Yes, of course. About Archer—you don't think—"

"It won't be long before the police know all about Archer," said I. "It would be different if I had heard him threaten Colonel Protheroe with my own ears. But you may believe that if he really If you threatened him, half the village would hear him, and the news would reach the police. Of course, you must do what you want in this matter." It was strange that Howes seemed unwilling to do anything himself. The whole demeanor of the man was tense and strange.I remembered what Haydock had said about his illness.I think that's why. He reluctantly leaves, as if he has more to say but is too inconvenient to say so.

Before he left, I arranged with him to attend a Mothers' Fellowship service, followed by a meeting with the district vicar.In the afternoon, I still have a few things to attend to. Having put Howes and his troubles out of my mind, I set off to call on Mrs. Lestrands. On the table in the dining room, there are still unopened copies of The Guardian and The Church Times, which I have no time to read now. As I walked, it occurred to me that Mrs. Lestrands had spoken to Colonel Protheroe the night before he died.Likely, something from that conversation helped unravel the mystery. I was shown directly into the small drawing-room, where Mrs. Lestrands rose to greet the visitor.I was amazed at the strange atmosphere this woman created.She was wearing a solemn black dress, which set off her smooth and beautiful skin.There was a strange deadness in her face.There is only one pair of eyes that are piercing.But today, there was a look of alertness in her eyes.Otherwise, she is like a lifeless stone statue.

"It's very kind of you to come, Mr. Claremont," she said, shaking my hand. "I wanted to talk to you that day. Then I changed my mind. I was wrong." "As I told you then, I will be happy to do anything to help you." "Yes, you say that, and you seem to mean what you say. Mr. Clermont, there are few people in this world who would sincerely help me." "I can't believe this, Mrs. Lestrands." "It's true. Most people, at least most men, will do anything to get what they want." There was pain in her voice. I didn't answer, she said again: "Sit down, will you?" I obeyed her, and she also sat down on a chair, facing me.She hesitated, then began to speak slowly and carefully, seeming to weigh every word she said. "I am in a very special situation, Mr. Claremont, and I want your opinion. That is, I want your opinion on what I should do next. The past is past and cannot Change. Do you understand?" Before I could answer, the maid who had ushered me in just now opened the door and said with a frightened expression: "Ah! Come on, sir, here comes an inspector, and he says he must speak to you." The conversation paused.Mrs. Lestrands' face did not change.It's just that her eyes slowly closed and slowly opened again.She seemed to take a breath or two, and then, in exactly the same clear and calm voice as before, said, "Bring him in, Hilda." I was about to get up, but she told me not to go with a haughty gesture. "If you don't mind—I'd be grateful if you stayed." I sat down again. "Of course, if you wish." I said softly, and Slack had already entered with his customary quick steps. "Good afternoon, Mrs.," he said. "Good afternoon, Inspector." At this moment, when he saw me, he straightened his face.There's no doubt that Slack doesn't like me. "I hope you have no objection to the priest's presence?" I guess Slack couldn't just say he objected. "Oh—no," he said reluctantly, "but, perhaps, it's best—" Mrs. Lestrands ignored the hint. "What can you do, Inspector?" she asked. "That's right, too big. It's about the murder of Colonel Protheroe. I'm in charge of the case, and there's an inquiry." Mrs. Lestrands nodded. "It's just a matter of routine. I'm asking everyone where they were yesterday evening from six to seven. It's just a matter of routine, you understand." "Do you want to know where I was yesterday evening between six and seven?" "Please don't mind, ma'am." "Let me see," she recalled for a moment, "here I am. In this house." "Oh!" I saw the inspector's eyes sparkle. "Then, can your maid—I think you have only one—can corroborate this statement?" "No, it was Hilda's afternoon out." "I see." "So, unfortunately, you'll have to take my word for it," said Mrs. Lestrands. "Can you assure me that you will be at home all afternoon?" "You mean between six and seven, Inspector. I was out for a walk early yesterday afternoon. I was back before five." "Well, if a lady--Miss Hartnell, for example--said that she came here about six o'clock, rang the bell, and went away again when no one heard her--you'd say she messed up. is it wrong?" "Oh, no." Mrs. Lestrands shook her head. "but--" "If your maid is at home, she'll say the master isn't at home. If one is alone, and happens to not want to see visitors—well, the only thing to do is to make them ring the bell." Inspector Slack looked confused. "I'm very disgusted with older women," said Mrs. Lestrands. "Miss Hartnell is particularly annoying. She thumbed the bell at least half a dozen times before she would go away." She smiled charmingly at Supervisor Slack. The Inspector changed tack. "Well, if people say they saw you going about at that time." "Oh! But they didn't, did they?" She was quick to see his weakness. "Nobody sees me out because I'm home, you know that." "Exactly, ma'am." The Inspector jerked his chair closer. "Listen, Mrs. Lestrands, I know that you visited Colonel Protheroe at the 'Old House' the evening before he died." Mrs. Lestrands said calmly: "It is so." "Can you explain to me the nature of that conversation?" "It's a matter of privacy, Inspector." "I'm afraid I must ask you to tell me the nature of that personal privacy." "I'm not going to tell you anything about that. I'm just going to assure you that there's absolutely no way that anything that was said in that conversation has anything to do with the murder." "I don't think you can make your best judgment on that." "In any case, you must believe me to be telling the truth, Dude." "In fact, I have to believe everything you say about everything." "It seems so," she agreed, still smiling her old calm smile. Inspector Slack flushed. "This is an important case, Mrs. Lestrands. I want to know the truth—" He slammed his fist on the table. "I am determined to get the truth." Mrs. Lestrands said nothing. "Don't you see, too big, that you're putting yourself in a dubious situation?" Mrs. Leste Lowndes remained silent. "You will be subpoenaed to testify." "yes." Just two words, calm and unfeeling.The inspector had to change tactics again. "Did you know Colonel Protheroe before?" "Yes, I know him." "Are you familiar?" She paused, then said again: "I haven't seen him in years." "Did you know Mrs. Protheroe before?" "No." "Sorry, but it's unusual to visit at that time." "I don't see it that way." "What do you mean by that?" "I want to see Colonel Protheroe alone, not Mrs. Protheroe or Miss Protheroe. I think this is the best way to achieve my purpose." "Why don't you want to see Mrs. or Miss Protheroe?" "Inspector, that is my business." "So you refuse to say anything more?" "Not bad." Inspector Slack rose to his feet. "Too big, and if you're not careful you'll get yourself into an unpleasant situation. It all looks bad--bad." She laughed.I could have told Inspector Slack that she wasn't the sort of woman to be easily intimidated, "Well," he said, trying to get away decently. "Don't say I didn't warn you, I'm done. Good afternoon, ma'am, please take note, and we'll get to the bottom of it." he left.Mrs. Lestrands rose, and held out her hand. "I must see you off--yes, it's better. You see, it's too late for advice. I've already chosen my part." She said in a somewhat desperate voice: "I've chosen my role."