His mind full of his own affairs, Julian Farrar was not really interested. 'Well, what's the trouble?' he asked.
Angell thought for a moment before replying. Then, 'Mr Warwick's death, sir,' he said, 'it puts me out of a job.'
'Yes. Yes, I suppose it does,' Farrar responded. 'But I imagine you will easily get another, won't you?'
'I hope so, sir,' Angell replied.
'You're a qualified man, aren't you?' Farrar asked him.
'Oh, yes, sir. I'm qualified,' Angell replied, 'and there is always either hospital work or private work to be obtained. I know that.'
'Then what's troubling you?'
'Well, sir,' Angell told him, 'the circumstances in which this job came to an end are very distasteful to me.'
'In plain English,' Farrar remarked, 'you don't like having been mixed up with murder. Is that it?'
'You could put it that way, sir,' the valet confirmed.
'Well,' said Farrar, I'm afraid there is nothing anyone can do about that. Presumably you'll get a satisfactory reference from Mrs Warwick.' He took out his cigarette-case and opened it.
'I don't think there will be any difficulty about that, sir,' Angell responded. 'Mrs Warwick is a very nice lady – a very charming lady, if I may say so.' There was a faint insinuation in his tone.
Julian Farrar, having decided to await Laura after all, was about to go back into the house. However, he turned, struck by something in the valet's manner. 'What do you mean?' he asked quietly.
'I shouldn't like to inconvenience Mrs Warwick in any way,' Angell replied, unctuously.
Before speaking, Farrar took a cigarette from his case, and then returned the case to his pocket. 'You mean,' he said, 'you're – stopping on a bit to oblige her?'
'That is quite true, sir,' Angell affirmed. 'I am helping out in the house. But that is not exactly what I meant.' He paused, and then continued, 'It's a matter, really – of my conscience, sir.'
'What in hell do you mean – your conscience?' Farrar asked sharply.
Angell looked uncomfortable, but his voice was quite confident as he continued, 'I don't think you quite appreciate my difficulties, sir. In the matter of giving my evidence to the police, that is. It is my duty as a citizen to assist the police in any manner possible. At the same time, I wish to remain loyal to my employers.'
Julian Farrar turned away to light his cigarette. 'You speak as though there was a conflict,' he said quietly.
'If you think about it, sir,' Angell remarked, 'you will realize that there is bound to be a conflict – a conflict of loyalties if I may so put it.'
Farrar looked directly at the valet. 'Just exactly what are you getting at, Angell?' he asked.
'The police, sir, are not in a position to appreciate the background,' Angell replied. 'The background might – I just say might – be very important in a case like this. Also, of late I have been suffering rather severely from insomnia.'
'Do your ailments have to come into this?' Farrar asked him sharply.
'Unfortunately they do, sir,' was the valet's smooth reply. 'I retired early last night, but I was unable to get to sleep.'
'I'm sorry about that,' Farrar commiserated dryly, 'but really –'
'You see, sir,' Angell continued, ignoring the interruption, 'owing to the position of my bedroom in this house, I have become aware of certain matters of which perhaps the police are not fully cognizant.'
'Just what are you trying to say?' Farrar asked, coldly.
'The late Mr Warwick, sir,' Angell replied, 'was a sick man and a cripple. It's really only to be expected under those sad circumstances that an attractive lady like Mrs Warwick might – how shall I put it? – form an attachment elsewhere.'
'So that's it, is it?' said Farrar. 'I don't think I like your tone, Angell.'
'No, sir,' Angell murmured. 'But please don't be too precipitate in your judgement. Just think it over, sir. You will perhaps realize my difficulty. Here I am, in possession of knowledge which I have not, so far, communicated to the police – but knowledge which, perhaps, it is my duty to communicate to them.'
Julian Farrar stared at Angell coldly. 'I think,' he said, 'that this story of going to the police with your information is all ballyhoo. What you're really doing is suggesting that you're in a position to stir up dirt unless –' he paused, and then completed his sentence: '– unless what?'
Angell shrugged his shoulders. 'I am, of course, as you have just pointed out,' he observed, 'a fully qualified nurse-attendant. But there are times, Major Farrar, when I feel I would like to set up on my own. A small – not a nursing-home, exactly – but an establishment where I could take on perhaps five or six patients. With an assistant, of course. The patients would probably include gentlemen who are alcoholically difficult to manage at home. That sort of thing. Unfortunately, although I have accumulated a certain amount of savings, they are not enough. I wondered –' His voice trailed off suggestively.
Julian Farrar completed his thought for him. 'You wondered,' he said, 'if I – or I and Mrs Warwick together – could come to your assistance in this project, no doubt.'
'I just wondered, sir,' Angell replied meekly. 'It would be a great kindness on your part.'
'Yes, it would, wouldn't it?' Farrar observed sarcastically.
'You suggested rather harshly,' Angell went on, 'that I'm threatening to stir up dirt. Meaning, I take it, scandal. But it's not that at all, sir. I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing.'
'What exactly is it you are driving at, Angell?' Farrar sounded as though he were beginning to lose his patience. 'You're certainly driving at something.'
Angell gave a self-deprecating smile before replying. Then he spoke quietly but with emphasis. 'As I say, sir, last night I couldn't sleep very well. I was lying awake, listening to the booming of the foghorn. An extremely depressing sound I always find it, sir. Then it seemed to me that I heard a shutter banging. A very irritating noise when you're trying to get to sleep. I got up and leaned out of my window. It seemed to be the shutter of the pantry window, almost immediately below me.'
'Well?' asked Farrar, sharply.
'I decided, sir, to go down and attend to the shutter,' Angell continued. 'As I was on my way downstairs, I heard a shot.' He paused briefly. 'I didn't think anything of it at the time. 'Mr Warwick at it again,' I thought. 'But surely he can't see what he's shooting at in a mist like this.' I went to the pantry, sir, and fastened back the shutter securely.
But, as I was standing there, feeling a bit uneasy for some reason, I heard footsteps coming along the path outside the window –'
'You mean,' Farrar interrupted, 'the path that –' His eyes went towards it.
'Yes, sir,' Angell agreed. 'The path that leads from the terrace, around the corner of the house, that way – past the domestic offices. A path that's not used very much, except of course by you, sir, when you come over here, seeing as it's a short cut from your house to this one.'
He stopped speaking, and looked intently at Julian Farrar, who merely said icily, 'Go on.'
'I was feeling, as I said, a bit uneasy,' Angell continued, 'thinking there might be a prowler about. I can't tell you how relieved I was, sir, to sec you pass the pantry window, walking quickly – hurrying on your way back home.'
After a pause, Farrar said, 'I can't really see any point in what you're telling me. Is there supposed to be one?'
With an apologetic cough, Angell answered him. 'I just wondered, sir, whether you have mentioned to the police that you came over here last night to see Mr Warwick. In case you have not done so, and supposing that they should question me further as to the events of last night –'
Farrar interrupted him. 'You do realize, don't you,' he asked tersely, 'that the penalty for blackmail is severe?'
'Blackmail, sir?' responded Angell, sounding shocked. 'I don't know what you mean. It's just a question, as I said, of deciding where my duty lies. The police – '
'The police,' Farrar interrupted him sharply, 'are perfectly satisfied as to who killed Mr Warwick. The fellow practically signed his name to the crime. They're not likely to come asking you any more questions.'
