阳光下的罪恶23

III

The Chief Constable was being as tactful as it was in his nature to be with Mrs. Castle.

Mrs. Castle was the owner and proprietress of the Jolly Roger Hotel. She was a woman of fortyodd with a large bust, rather violent henna red hair, and an almost offensively refined manner ofspeech.

She was saying:

“That such a thing should happen in my hotel! Ay am sure it has always been the quayettestplace imaginable! The people who come here are such naice people. No rowdiness—if you knowwhat ay mean. Not like the big hotels in St. Loo.”

“Quite so, Mrs. Castle,” said Colonel Weston. “But accidents happen in the best regulated—erhouseholds.”

“Ay’m sure Inspector Colgate will bear me out,” said Mrs. Castle, sending an appealing glancetowards the Inspector who was sitting looking very official. “As to the laycensing laws, ay ammost particular. There has never been any irregularity!”

“Quite, quite,” said Weston. “We’re not blaming you in any way, Mrs. Castle.”

“But it does so reflect upon an establishment,” said Mrs. Castle, her large bust heaving. “Whenay think of the noisy gaping crowds. Of course no one but hotel guests are allowed upon the island—but all the same they will no doubt come and point from the shore.”

She shuddered.

Inspector Colgate saw his chance to turn the conversation to good account.

He said:

“In regard to that point you’ve just raised. Access to the island. How do you keep people off?”

“Ay am most particular about it.”

“Yes, but what measures do you take? What keeps ’em off? Holiday crowds in summer timeswarm everywhere like flies.”

Mrs. Castle shrugged slightly again.

She said:

“That is the fault of the charabancs. Ay have seen eighteen at one time parked by the quay atLeathercombe Bay. Eighteen!”

“Just so. How do you stop them coming here?”

“There are notices. And then, of course, at high tide, we are cut off.”

“Yes, but at low tide?”

Mrs. Castle explained. At the island end of the causeway there was a gate. This said “JollyRoger Hotel. Private. No entry except to Hotel.” The rocks rose sheer out of the sea on either sidethere and could not be climbed.

“Anyone could take a boat, though, I suppose, and row round and land on one of the coves?

You couldn’t stop them doing that. There’s a right of access to the foreshore. You can’t stoppeople being on the beach between low and high watermark.”

But this, it seemed, very seldom happened. Boats could be obtained at Leathercombe Bayharbour, but from there it was a long row to the island, and there was also a strong current justoutside Leathercombe Bay harbour.

There were notices, too, on both Gull Cove and Pixy Cove by the ladder. She added that Georgeor William were always on the look out at the bathing beach proper which was the nearest to themainland.

“Who are George and William?”

“George attends to the bathing beach. He sees to the costumes and the floats. William is thegardener. He keeps the paths and marks the tennis courts and all that.”

Colonel Weston said impatiently:

“Well, that seems clear enough. That’s not to say that nobody could have come from outside,but anyone who did so took a risk—the risk of being noticed. We’ll have a word with George andWilliam presently.”

Mrs. Castle said:

“Ay do not care for trippers—a very noisy crowd, and they frequently leave orange peel andcigarette boxes on the causeway and down by the rocks, but all the same ay never thought one ofthem would turn out to be a murderer. Oh dear! it really is too terrible for words. A lady like Mrs.

Marshall murdered and what’s so horrible, actually—er—strangled….”

Mrs. Castle could hardly bring herself to say the word. She brought it out with the utmostreluctance.

Inspector Colgate said soothingly:

“Yes, it’s a nasty business.”

“And the newspapers. My hotel in the newspapers!”

Colgate said, with a faint grin.

“Oh well, it’s advertisement, in a way.”

Mrs. Castle drew herself up. Her bust heaved and whalebone creaked. She said icily:

“That is not the kind of advertisement ay care about, Mr. Colgate.”

Colonel Weston broke in. He said:

“Now then, Mrs. Castle, you’ve got a list of the guests staying here, as I asked you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Colonel Weston pored over the hotel register. He looked over to Poirot who made the fourthmember of the group assembled in the manageress’s office.

“This is where you’ll probably be able to help us presently.”

He read down the names.

“What about servants?”

Mrs. Castle produced a second list.

“There are four chambermaids, the head waiter and three under him and Henry in the bar.

William does the boots and shoes. Then there’s the cook and two under her.”

“What about the waiters?”

“Well, sir, Albert, the Mater Dotel, came to me from the Vincent at Plymouth. He was there forsome years. The three under him have been here for three years—one of them four. They are verynaise lads and most respectable. Henry has been here since the hotel opened. He is quite aninstitution.”

Weston nodded. He said to Colgate:

“Seems all right. You’ll check up on them, of course. Thank you, Mrs. Castle.”

“That will be all you require?”

“For the moment, yes.”

Mrs. Castle creaked out of the room.

Weston said:

“First thing to do is to talk with Captain Marshall.

 

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