Unexpected Guest by Agatha Christie Page B

quite true, sir,’ Angell insisted. ‘Nurse Warburton–a nurse Mr Warwick employed at the time–she was in the car, too, and she agreed.’
    The inspector walked across to one end of the sofa. ‘Did she happen to look at the speedometer at the time?’ he queried.
    â€˜I believe Nurse Warburton did happen to see the speedometer,’ Angell replied smoothly. ‘She estimated that they were going at between twenty and twenty-five miles an hour. Mr Warwick was completely exonerated.’
    â€˜But the boy’s father didn’t agree?’ the inspector asked.
    â€˜Perhaps that’s only natural, sir,’ was Angell’s comment.
    â€˜Had Mr Warwick been drinking?’
    Angell’s reply was evasive. ‘I believe he had had a glass of sherry, sir.’ He and Inspector Thomas exchanged glances. Then the inspector crossed to the french windows, taking out his handkerchief and blowing his nose. ‘Well, I think that’ll do for now,’ he told the valet.
    Angell rose and went to the door. After a moment’shesitation, he turned back into the room. ‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said. ‘But was Mr Warwick shot with his own gun?’
    The inspector turned to him. ‘That remains to be seen,’ he observed. ‘Whoever it was who shot him collided with Mr Starkwedder, who was coming up to the house to try to get help for his stranded vehicle. In the collision, the man dropped a gun. Mr Starkwedder picked it up–this gun.’ He pointed to the gun on the table.
    â€˜I see, sir. Thank you, sir,’ said Angell as he turned to the door again.
    â€˜By the way,’ added the inspector, ‘were there any visitors to the house yesterday? Yesterday evening in particular?’
    Angell paused for just a moment, then eyed the inspector shiftily. ‘Not that I can recall, sir–at present,’ he replied. He left the room, closing the door behind him.
    Inspector Thomas went back to the desk. ‘If you ask me,’ he said quietly to the sergeant, ‘that fellow’s a nasty bit of goods. Nothing you can put your finger on, but I don’t like him.’
    â€˜I’m of the same opinion as you, regarding that,’ Cadwallader replied. ‘He’s not a man I would trust, and what’s more, I’d say there may have been something fishy about that accident.’ Suddenly realizing that theinspector was standing over him, he got up quickly from his chair. The inspector took the notes Cadwallader had been making, and began to peruse them. ‘Now I wonder if Angell knows something he hasn’t told us about last night,’ he began, and then broke off. ‘Hello, what’s this? “’Tis misty in November, But seldom in December.” That’s not Keats, I hope?’
    â€˜No,’ said Sergeant Cadwallader proudly. ‘That’s Cadwallader.’

Chapter 7
    The inspector thrust Cadwallader’s notebook back at him roughly, as the door opened and Miss Bennett came in, closing the door carefully behind her. ‘Inspector,’ she said, ‘Mrs Warwick is very anxious to see you. She is fussing a little.’ She added quickly, ‘I mean Mrs Warwick senior, Richard’s mother. She doesn’t admit it, but I don’t think she’s in the best of health, so please be gentle with her. Will you see her now?’
    â€˜Oh, certainly,’ replied the inspector. ‘Ask her to come in.’
    Miss Bennett opened the door, beckoning, and Mrs Warwick came in. ‘It’s all right, Mrs Warwick,’ the housekeeper assured her, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.
    â€˜Good morning, madam,’ the inspector said. Mrs Warwick did not return his greeting, but came directlyto the point. ‘Tell me, Inspector,’ she ordered, ‘what progress are you making?’
    â€˜It’s rather early to say that, madam,’ he replied, ‘but you