Читать книгу Spider’s Web - Агата Кристи, Agatha Christie, Detection Club The - Страница 9

Clarissa and Sir Rowland had hardly been gone more than a few minutes when Elgin, the butler, entered the room from the hall, carrying a tray of drinks which he placed on a table. When the door bell rang, he went to the front door. A theatrically handsome, dark-haired man was standing outside.

‘Good evening, sir,’ Elgin greeted him.

‘Good evening. I’ve come to see Mrs Brown,’ the man told him, rather brusquely.

‘Oh yes, sir, do come in,’ said Elgin. Closing the door behind the man, he asked, ‘What name, sir?’

‘Mr Costello.’

‘This way, sir.’ Elgin led the way along the hall. He stood aside to allow the newcomer to enter the drawing-room, and then said, ‘Would you wait here, sir. Madam is at home. I’ll see if I can find her.’ He started to go, then stopped and turned back to the man. ‘Mr Costello, did you say?’

‘That’s right,’ the stranger replied. ‘Oliver Costello.’

‘Very good, sir,’ murmured Elgin as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Left alone, Oliver Costello looked around the room, walked across to listen first at the library door and next at the hall door, and then approached the desk, bent over it, and looked closely at the drawers. Hearing a sound, he quickly moved away from the desk, and was standing in the centre of the room when Clarissa came in through the French windows.

Costello turned. When he saw who it was, he looked amazed.

It was Clarissa who spoke first. Sounding intensely surprised, she gasped, ‘You?’

‘Clarissa! What are you doing here?’ exclaimed Costello. He sounded equally surprised.

‘That’s a rather silly question, isn’t it?’ Clarissa replied. ‘It’s my house.’

‘This is your house?’ His tone was one of disbelief.

‘Don’t pretend you don’t know,’ said Clarissa, sharply.

Costello stared at her without speaking for a moment or two. Then, adopting a complete change of manner, he observed, ‘What a charming house this is. It used to belong to old what’s-his-name, the antique dealer, didn’t it? I remember he brought me out here once to show me some Louis Quinze chairs.’ He took a cigarette case from his pocket. ‘Cigarette?’ he offered.

‘No, thank you,’ replied Clarissa abruptly. ‘And,’ she added, ‘I think you’d better go. My husband will be home quite soon, and I don’t think he’d be very pleased to see you.’

Costello responded with rather insolent amusement, ‘But I particularly do want to see him. That’s why I’ve come here, really, to discuss suitable arrangements.’

‘Arrangements?’ Clarissa asked, her tone one of puzzlement.

‘Arrangements for Pippa,’ Costello explained. ‘Miranda’s quite agreeable to Pippa’s spending part of the summer holidays with Henry, and perhaps a week at Christmas. ‘But otherwise—’

Clarissa interrupted him sharply. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked. ‘Pippa’s home is here.’

Costello wandered casually over to the table with the drinks on it. ‘But my dear Clarissa,’ he exclaimed, ‘you’re surely aware that the court gave Miranda the custody of the child?’ He picked up a bottle of whisky. ‘May I?’ he asked, and without waiting for a reply poured a drink for himself. ‘The case was undefended, remember?’

Clarissa faced him belligerently. ‘Henry allowed Miranda to divorce him,’ she declared, speaking clearly and concisely, ‘only after it was agreed between them privately that Pippa should live with her father. If Miranda had not agreed to that, Henry would have divorced her.’

Costello gave a laugh which bordered on a sneer. ‘You don’t know Miranda very well, do you?’ he asked. ‘She so often changes her mind.’

Clarissa turned away from him. ‘I don’t believe for one moment,’ she said contemptuously, ‘that Miranda wants that child or even cares twopence about her.’

‘But you’re not a mother, my dear Clarissa,’ was Costello’s impertinent response. ‘You don’t mind my calling you Clarissa, do you?’ he went on, with another unpleasant smile. ‘After all, now that I’m married to Miranda, we’re practically relations-in-law.’

He swallowed his drink in one gulp and put his glass down. ‘Yes, I can assure you,’ he continued, ‘Miranda is now feeling violently maternal. She feels she must have Pippa to live with us for most of the time.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ Clarissa snapped.

‘Please yourself.’ Costello made himself comfortable in the armchair. ‘But there’s no point in your trying to contest it. After all, there was no arrangement in writing, you know.’

‘You’re not going to have Pippa,’ Clarissa told him firmly. ‘The child was a nervous wreck when she came to us. She’s much better now, and she’s happy at school, and that’s the way she’s going to remain.’

‘How will you manage that, my dear?’ Costello sneered. ‘The law is on our side.’

‘What’s behind all this?’ Clarissa asked him, sounding bewildered. ‘You don’t care about Pippa. What do you really want?’ She paused, and then struck her forehead. ‘Oh! What a fool I am. Of course, it’s blackmail.’

Costello was about to reply, when Elgin appeared. ‘I was looking for you, madam,’ the butler told Clarissa. ‘Will it be quite all right for Mrs Elgin and myself to leave now for the evening, madam?’

‘Yes, quite all right, Elgin,’ Clarissa replied.

‘The taxi has come for us,’ the butler explained. ‘Supper is laid all ready in the dining-room.’ He was about to go, but then turned back to Clarissa. ‘Do you want me to shut up in here, madam?’ he asked, keeping an eye on Costello as he spoke.

‘No, I’ll see to it,’ Clarissa assured him. ‘You and Mrs Elgin can go off for the evening now.’

‘Thank you, madam,’ said Elgin. He turned at the hall door to say, ‘Goodnight, madam.’

‘Goodnight, Elgin,’ Clarissa responded.

Costello waited until the butler had closed the door behind him before he spoke again. ‘Blackmail is a very ugly word, Clarissa,’ he pointed out to her somewhat unoriginally. ‘You should take a little more care before you accuse people wrongfully. Now, have I mentioned money at all?’

‘Not yet,’ replied Clarissa. ‘But that’s what you mean, isn’t it?’

Costello shrugged his shoulders and held his hands out in an expressive gesture. ‘It’s true that we’re not very well off,’ he admitted. ‘Miranda has always been very extravagant, as you no doubt know. I think she feels that Henry might be able to reinstate her allowance. After all, he’s a rich man.’

Clarissa went up to Costello and faced him squarely. ‘Now listen,’ she ordered him. ‘I don’t know about Henry, but I do know about myself. You try to get Pippa away from here, and I’ll fight you tooth and nail.’ She paused, then added, ‘And I don’t care what weapons I use.’

Apparently unmoved by her outburst, Costello chuckled, but Clarissa continued, ‘It shouldn’t be difficult to get medical evidence proving Miranda’s a drug addict. I’d even go to Scotland Yard and talk to the Narcotic Squad, and I’d suggest that they kept an eye on you as well.’

Costello gave a start at this. ‘The upright Henry will hardly care for your methods,’ he warned Clarissa.

‘Then Henry will have to lump them,’ she retorted fiercely. ‘It’s the child that matters. I’m not going to have Pippa bullied or frightened.’

At this point, Pippa came into the room. Seeing Costello, she stopped short, looking terrified.

‘Why, hello, Pippa,’ Costello greeted her. ‘How you’ve grown.’

Pippa backed away as he moved towards her. ‘I’ve just come to make some arrangements about you,’ he told her. ‘Your mother is looking forward to having you with her again. She and I are married now, and—’

‘I won’t come,’ Pippa cried hysterically, running to Clarissa for protection. ‘I won’t come. Clarissa, they can’t make me, can they? They wouldn’t—’

‘Don’t worry, Pippa darling,’ Clarissa said soothingly, putting her arm around the child. ‘Your home is here with your father and with me, and you’re not leaving it.’

‘But I assure you—’ Costello began, only to be interrupted angrily by Clarissa. ‘Get out of here at once,’ she ordered him.

Mockingly pretending to be afraid of her, Costello put his hands above his head, and backed away.

‘At once!’ Clarissa repeated. She advanced upon him. ‘I won’t have you in my house, do you hear?’

Miss Peake appeared at the French windows, carrying a large garden-fork. ‘Oh, Mrs Hailsham-Brown,’ she began, ‘I—’

‘Miss Peake,’ Clarissa interrupted her. ‘Will you show Mr Costello the way through the garden to the back gate?’

Costello looked at Miss Peake, who lifted her garden-fork as she returned his gaze.

‘Miss—Peake?’ he queried.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ she replied, robustly. ‘I’m the gardener here.’

‘Indeed, yes,’ said Costello. ‘I came here once before, you may remember, to look at some antique furniture.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Miss Peake replied. ‘In Mr Sellon’s time. But you can’t see him today, you know. He’s dead.’

‘No, I didn’t come to see him,’ Costello declared. ‘I came to see—Mrs Brown.’ He gave the name a certain emphasis.