Spider's Web

Clarissa seemed now to be almost enjoying her narrative. "I eased the catch open," she continued, "and then my fingers slipped, and the door swung right open and hit against a chair. A man who was standing by the desk straightened up. I saw something bright and shining in his hand. I thought it was a revolver. I was terrified. I thought he was going to shoot me. I hit out at him with the stick with all my might, and he fell."

She collapsed and leaned on the table with her face in her hands. "Could I... could I have a little brandy, please?" she asked the Inspector.

"Yes, of course." The Inspector got to his feet. "Jones!" he called. The Constable rose, poured some brandy into a glass and handed it to the Inspector. Clarissa had lifted her face, but quickly covered it with her hands again and held out her hand as the Inspector brought her the brandy. She drank, coughed, and returned the glass to the Inspector. He, in turn, handed it to the Constable, who replaced it on a table and resumed his seat and his note-taking.

The Inspector looked at Clarissa. "Do you feel able to continue, Mrs. Hailsham-Brown?" he asked sympathetically.

"Yes," Clarissa replied, glancing up at him. "You're very kind." She took a breath and continued her story. "The man just lay there. He didn't move. I switched on the light and I saw then that it was Oliver Costello. He was dead. It was terrible. I – I couldn't understand it."

She gestured towards the desk. "I couldn't understand what he was doing there, tampering with the desk. It was all like some ghastly nightmare. I was so frightened that I rang the golf club. I wanted my guardian to be with me. They all came over. I begged them to help me, to take the body away – somewhere."

The Inspector stared at her intently. "But why?" he asked.

Clarissa turned away from him. "Because I was a coward," she said. "A miserable coward. I was frightened of the publicity, of having to go to a police court. And it would be so bad for my husband and for his career."

She turned back to the Inspector. "If it had really been a burglar, perhaps I could have gone through with it, but being someone we actually knew, someone who is married to Henry's first wife... Oh, I just felt I couldn't go through with it."

"Perhaps," the Inspector suggested, "because the dead man had, a short while before, attempted to blackmail you?"

"Blackmail me? Oh, that's nonsense!" Clarissa replied with complete confidence. "That's just silly. There's nothing anyone could blackmail me about."

"Elgin, your butler, overheard a mention of blackmail," the Inspector told her.

"I don't believe he heard anything of the kind," replied Clarissa. "He couldn't. If you ask me, he's making the whole thing up."

"Come now, Mrs. Hailsham-Brown," the Inspector insisted, "are you deliberately telling me that the word blackmail was never mentioned? Why would your butler make it up?"

"I swear there was no mention of blackmail," Clarissa exclaimed, banging the table with her left hand. "I assure you – " Her hand stopped in mid-air, and she suddenly laughed. "Oh, how silly. Of course. That was it."

"You've remembered?" the Inspector asked calmly.

"It was nothing, really," Clarissa assured him. "It was just that Oliver was saying something about the rent of furnished houses being absurdly high, and I said we'd been amazingly lucky and were only paying four guineas a week for this. And he said, 'I can hardly believe it, Clarissa. What's your pull? It must be blackmail.' And I laughed and said, 'That's it. Blackmail.'" She laughed now, apparently recalling the exchange. "Just a silly, joking way of talking. Why, I didn't even remember it."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hailsham-Brown," said the Inspector, "but I really can't believe that."

Clarissa looked astonished. "Can't believe what?"

"That you're only paying four guineas a week for this house, furnished."

"Honestly! You really are the most unbelieving man I've ever met," Clarissa told him as she rose and went to the desk. "You don't seem to believe a single thing I've said to you this evening. Most things I can't prove, but this one I can. And this time I'm going to show you."

She opened a drawer of the desk and searched through the papers in it. "Here it is," she exclaimed. "No, it isn't. Ah! Here we are." She took a document from the drawer and showed it to the Inspector. "Here's the agreement for our tenancy of this house, furnished. It's made out by a firm of solicitors acting for the executors and, look – four guineas per week."

The Inspector looked jolted. "Well, I'm blessed! It's extraordinary. Quite extraordinary. I'd have thought it was worth much more than that."

Clarissa gave him one of her most charming smiles.

"Don't you think, Inspector, that you ought to beg my pardon?" she suggested.

The Inspector injected a certain amount of charm into his voice as he responded. "I do apologise, Mrs. Hailsham-Brown," he said, "but it really is extremely odd, you know."