Agatha Raisin and the Wellspring of Death

faint starlight shone on the black revolver in Guy’s hand.
    He levelled the pistol at them.
    Mrs Bloxby left Agatha’s side and walked forward and put a hand on his arm.
    ‘This will not do,’ she said gently. ‘You cannot get away with this.’
    He jerked his arm away.
    Agatha darted forward and sprayed lacquer in his face. He shouted, clutched at his eyes and dropped the revolver.
    The vicar’s wife grabbed the revolver and shouted, ‘Stand back, Agatha.’
    Guy looked at them blearily. ‘So go on and shoot.’ He advanced on Mrs Bloxby. ‘But you won’t, will you, oh lady of God? You can’t!’
    His hand reached out.
    Mrs Bloxby shot him full in the chest.
    He stared at her in surprise and then down at the spreading stain on his white shirt. ‘I’ll be damned,’ said Guy Freemont.
    Mrs Bloxby sat down suddenly on the wet grass. ‘Probably,’ she said faintly and then buried her face in her hands.
    Guy toppled forward on his face and lay still. The moon swam out from behind ragged black clouds. Far away the thunder grumbled.
    Agatha walked on shaking legs and pulled Mrs Bloxby to her feet. ‘We need to get help and I’m not leaving you here.’
    ‘God forgive me,’ whispered Mrs Bloxby. ‘I’ve killed him.’
    ‘Maybe not,’ said Agatha. ‘But we’re not waiting to see.’
    She helped the vicar’s wife into the car. The keys were still in the ignition. Agatha found that her legs were trembling so much that she could barely press the accelerator.
    But she managed to start the car and drive into Toddenham, stopping at the first house.
    The householder who answered the door looked at the two women and then down at the gun which Mr Bloxby was still holding in her hands, screamed and slammed the door.
    ‘Give me the gun.’ Agatha put it in her handbag.
    They walked next door. A slim young man answered it and after listening to their pleas to use the phone, that they had to call the police, invited them in. Agatha called for the police and ambulance, breaking off to ask the young man his address.
    ‘We’d best go back,’ said Agatha. ‘You wait here, Mrs Bloxby, and I’ll stop them.’
    ‘No, I’ll come with you. I killed him.’
    The young man who had given his name as Gabriel Law made a move to accompany them and then decided against it. If one of these women had killed someone, he felt it would be safer to stay behind.
    Agatha drove the short distance to the field.
    They both sat silently in the car.
    ‘I had to do it,’ said Mrs Bloxby at last.
    ‘Yes, you did, or we’d both be dead. How blind I’ve been! You know how I got on to him?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Bill Wong said there was a single white Persian cat hair in the turn-up of old Mr Struthers’s trousers. But no one could find a trace of a white cat. That was, until just before he arrived at my house this evening. I had been over to see his secretary, Portia Salmond. She said she was having an affair with him. I noticed my blouse, the one I had been wearing when I went to see her – it had white cat hairs on it. Like a fool I first thought that Portia had been the murderer.’
    ‘You would have thought Portia would have got rid of the cat.’
    ‘But no one thought of her. And the police were asking around Ancombe for white cats but they didn’t explain why or make the information public. But you knew it was him. Why?’
    ‘The atmosphere of evil when I walked into your sitting-room was almost tangible. And you looked so white and frightened. I put your life at risk, Agatha. I was frightened, too, and that’s how I let him know he was suspected. What a silly fool I was. Listen! Is that a police siren?’
    Agatha rolled down the window. ‘Several,’ she said.
    They both got out and stood in the road.
    Bill Wong erupted out the first car, shouting, ‘Where is he?’
    ‘That field, just there.’ Agatha pointed.
    Bill and Detective Inspector Wilkes and several policemen went into the field. ‘Get the ambulance here,’ shouted Bill.
    Police cars moved to one side to allow the ambulance through.
    Agatha and Mrs Bloxby waited and waited. Finally a stretcher with Guy’s body on it was gently lifted over the fence. He had an oxygen mask over his face and a drip in his arm.
    ‘He’s still alive,’ said Mrs Bloxby.
    And she began to cry.

Chapter Ten

    ‘So he’ll survive after all.’ Agatha was talking to Bill Wong in her kitchen a few days after Guy Freemont had been arrested.
    ‘Minus one lung, yes.’
    ‘I’m