'Go up to the bathroom and pour buckets of water on i the floor. It's over the hall. We've got to stop the fire getting to the thatch!'
James ran to the kitchen as Agatha scampered up the stairs. Swearing, he filled a bucket of water and running back with it, hurled the contents at the living-room door, which was already beginning to blister and crackle.
Upstairs, Agatha, sobbing with fright, poured water on the bathroom floor. There were shouts and yells from outside. Agatha clearly heard the voice of the landlord, John Fletcher, calling, 'Keep throwing that earth. We daren't wait for the fire brigade. Oh, Mrs. Hardy. More earth. Let's be having it! That there's a petrol fire. I can smell it.'
Then, just as James shouted up, 'It's all right now, Agatha,' she heard the sirens of police cars and the fire engine in the distance. She went slowly down the stairs and sat on the bottom steps with her head in her hands.
The living-room door now stood open to reveal the black and smouldering wreck of the little hall, piled high with a mound of earth.
'Who would do a thing like this?' demanded James. 'Someone meant to roast us alive.'
'Probably Helen Warwick,' said Agatha, and burst into tears.
SEVEN
SUDDENLY the house seemed to be full of people.
Fred Griggs, the policeman; Mrs. Bloxby, with a sweater and trousers pulled on over her pyjamas; John Fletcher, the publican; Mrs. Hardy; and various other villagers.
'You've got Mrs. Hardy here to thank for quick action,' said Fred. 'She phoned the fire brigade and then ran with buckets of earth to put on the fire. Water don't do much to stop a petrol fire.'
'Are you all right, Mrs. Raisin?' Mrs. Hardy's normally bad-tempered face registered concern.
'Bit shaken,' said Agatha.
'Who could have done such a thing?'
Agatha shuddered and wrapped her arms closely about herself. 'I just don't know.'
By the time the police arrived and then Bill Wong, and two other detectives Agatha did not know, the Carsely Ladies' Society had commandeered the kitchen and were making tea for all. Agatha was being fussed over and handed home-made cakes. John Fletcher had brought a case of beer along from the pub and was serving out drinks to the men. James was looking around the crowded cottage in a bemused way and wondering whether to put on some music and make a party of it.
But the police cleared everyone out after having heard a report from the fire chief, and the detectives settled down to interview Agatha and James.
'You've been putting that stick of yours in muddy waters and stirring things up,' Bill accused Agatha. 'Who did you go to see today?' He glanced at the clock. 'Or rather, yesterday.'
James flashed Agatha a warning glance, but Agatha said, 'Helen Warwick.'
'What! That secretary who was having an affair with Sir Desmond Derrington? I told you pair not to interfere!'
James said wearily, 'I know you did. But until this murder, or murders, is cleared up, Agatha and I feel we will always be suspects.'
'I'll talk to you about that later. Now, who else did you see?'
'No one else yesterday.'
'The day before?'
James hesitated. Then he shrugged and said, 'Mrs. Comfort had gone off to Spain with her lover, a Basil Morton who lives in Mircester. We went to see what we could find out about him. He's married and his wife hadn't a clue what he was up to, so we left. Then we went to see Mrs. Comfort's ex-husband in Ashton-Le-Walls. He threatened to set the dog on us. End of story.'
'And how did you find out about Mr. Comfort? His address? Come to think of it, how did you get the addresses of those other people who were at the health farm?'
Agatha said, 'Roy Silver employed a detective to find out about Jimmy. She dug up the addresses for us.'
'Name?'
'Can't remember,' mumbled Agatha.
'We'll ask Silver.'
Agatha looked helplessly at James.
'There's no need to lie, Agatha,' said James. 'We had a short stay at the health farm, Bill, and while we were there, I had a chance to look at the records. Do you think the rest of the questioning could be left until we've had some sleep? We're both rather shaky.'
'All right. But I expect you both at police headquarters as soon as you can manage it.'
As Bill Wong drove off with the others, his first thought was, I've a lot to tell Maddie - followed hard by another thought, I'm damned if I will. It was strange they couldn't find the Gore-Appleton woman. And yet there was something nagging at the back of his mind, something someone had said, something very obvious he hadn't thought of doing.
The village carpenter effected temporary repairs, putting up chipboard and a makeshift door the next day while James phoned the insurance company. Mrs. Hardy phoned Agatha and asked if she would 'step next door' for a chat. 'I'll see what she wants, James,' said Agatha, 'and then we'd better get off to Mircester.'
Agatha went reluctantly next door. She had taken such a dislike to Mrs. Hardy, and yet the woman had done everything she could to help put out the fire. Not only that, she had saved their lives, thought Agatha. That was a wild exaggeration, when they could both have escaped out of the back door.
But it was a changed Mrs. Hardy who answered the door to her. 'Come in, you poor thing,' she said. 'What a nightmare!'
'Thank you for all your efforts on our behalf.' Agatha followed her into the kitchen.
'Coffee?'
'Yes, please.'
Mrs. Hardy poured two cups of coffee. They both sat down at the kitchen table.
'I'll come straight to the point.' Mrs. Hardy twisted her coffee-cup nervously in her ringed hands. 'I decided to settle in the country for peace and quiet. I was finding it all too quiet, but what happened to you last night was frightening, not my idea of excitement. There's a maniac on the loose and I want out of here. I am prepared to take your offer of one hundred and ten thousand pounds.'
Agatha had a sudden impulse to say she would make it one hundred and thirty, the sum she had originally offered, but bit it back in time.
'When do you want to settle at the lawyers'?'
'Today, if possible,' said Mrs. Hardy.
'Let me see, we're just about to go into Mircester to make our statements. We could go on from there to Cheltenham. What about four o'clock?'
'I'll fix it.'
'Tell me,' said Agatha curiously, 'what is it about Carsely that you don't like, apart from murder and mayhem?'
She gave a little sigh. 'I've been very lonely since my husband died. I thought a small village would be a friendly place.'
'But it is!' protested Agatha. 'Everyone's prepared to be friendly if you just give them a chance.'
'But it means going to church and talking to the yokels in the pub and joining some dreadful ladies' society.'
