“Thank you.”
Colonel Weston cleared his throat. He said:
“You may take it, Mr. Redfern, that we shall not go into irrelevancies. If your infatuation for Mrs. Marshall played no part in the murder then there will be no point in dragging it into the case. But what you don’t seem to realize is that that—er—intimacy—may have a very direct bearing on the murder. It might establish, you understand, a motive for the crime.”
Patrick Redfern said:
“Motive?”
Weston said:
“Yes, Mr. Redfern, motive! Captain Marshall, perhaps, was unaware of the affair. Suppose that he suddenly found out?”
Redfern said:
“Oh God! You mean he got wise and—and killed her?”
The Chief Constable said rather dryly:
“That solution had not occurred to you?”
Redfern shook his head. He said:
“No—funny. I never thought of it. You see, Marshall’s such a quiet chap. I—oh, it doesn’t seem likely.”
Weston asked:
“What was Mrs. Marshall’s attitude to her husband in all this? Was she—well, uneasy—in case it should come to his ears? Or was she indifferent?”
Redfern said slowly:
“She was—a bit ne
rvous. She didn’t want him to suspect anything.”
“Did she seem afraid of him?”
“Afraid. No, I wouldn’t say that.”
Poirot murmured:
“Excuse me, M. Redfern, there was not, at any time, the question of a divorce?”
Patrick Redfern shook his head decisively.
“Oh no, there was no question of anything like that. There was Christine, you see. And Arlena, I am sure, never thought of such a thing. She was perfectly satisfied married to Marshall. He’s—well, rather a big bug in his way—” He smiled suddenly. “County—all that sort of thing, and quite well off. She never thought of me as a possible husband. No, I was just one of a succession of poor mutts—just something to pass the time with. I knew that all along, and yet, queerly enough, it didn’t alter my feeling towards her….”
His voice trailed off. He sat there thinking.
Weston recalled him to the needs of the moment.
“Now, Mr. Redfern, had you any particular appointment with Mrs. Marshall this morning?”
Patrick Redfern looked slightly puzzled.
He said:
“Not a particular appointment, no. We usually met every morning on the beach. We used to paddle about on floats.”