Poirot caught Battle by the arm.
“Quickly, my friend. We, too, must go to Wallingfor
d. I tell you, I am not easy in my mind. This may not be the end. I tell you again, my friend, this young lady, she is dangerous.”
Twenty-nine
ACCIDENT
“Anne,” said Rhoda.
“Mmm?”
“No, really, Anne, don’t answer with half your mind on a crossword puzzle. I want you to attend to me.”
“I am attending.”
Anne sat bolt upright and put down the paper.
“That’s better. Look here, Anne.” Rhoda hesitated. “About this man coming.”
“Superintendent Battle?”
“Yes, Anne, I wish you’d tell him—about being at the Bensons.’”
Anne’s voice grew rather cold.
“Nonsense. Why should I?”
“Because—well, it might look—as though you’d been keeping something back. I’m sure it would be better to mention it.”
“I can’t very well now,” said Anne coldly.
“I wish you had in the first place.”
“Well, it’s too late to bother about that now.”
“Yes.” Rhoda did not sound convinced.
Anne said rather irritably:
“In any case, I can’t see why. It’s got nothing to do with all this.”
“No, of course not.”
“I was only there about two months. He only wants these things as—well—references. Two months doesn’t count.”
“No, I know. I expect I’m being rather foolish, but it does worry me rather. I feel you ought to mention it. You see, if it came out some other way, it might look rather bad—your keeping dark about it, I mean.”
“I don’t see how it can come out. Nobody knows but you.”
“N-no?”
Anne pounced on the slight hesitation in Rhoda’s voice.
“Why, who does know?”
“Well, everyone at Combeacre,” said Rhoda after a moment’s silence.