Detectives and Young Adventurers: The Complete Short Stories. Agatha Christie

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СКАЧАТЬ wonder if she stole the thing herself,’ remarked Tuppence meditatively. ‘Come on, Tommy, let’s put away these books and take the car and go down there. By the way, who are you going to be, Sherlock Holmes still?’

      ‘I think I need practice for that,’ said Tommy. ‘I came rather a cropper over that bus ticket, didn’t I?’

      ‘You did,’ said Tuppence. ‘If I were you I shouldn’t try too much on that girl – she’s as sharp as a needle. She’s unhappy too, poor devil.’

      ‘I suppose you know all about her already,’ said Tommy with sarcasm, ‘simply from looking at the shape of her nose!’

      ‘I’ll tell you my idea of what we shall find at The Laurels,’ said Tuppence, quite unmoved. ‘A household of snobs, very keen to move in the best society; the father, if there is a father, is sure to have a military title. The girl falls in with their way of life and despises herself for doing so.’

      Tommy took a last look at the books now neatly arranged upon the shelf.

      ‘I think,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘that I shall be Thorndyke today.’

      ‘I shouldn’t have thought there was anything medicolegal about this case,’ remarked Tuppence.

      ‘Perhaps not,’ said Tommy. ‘But I’m simply dying to use that new camera of mine! It’s supposed to have the most marvellous lens that ever was or could be.’

      ‘I know those kind of lenses,’ said Tuppence. ‘By the time you’ve adjusted the shutter and stopped down and calculated the exposure and kept your eye on the spirit level, your brain gives out, and you yearn for the simple Brownie.’

      ‘Only an unambitious soul is content with the simple Brownie.’

      ‘Well, I bet I shall get better results with it than you will.’

      Tommy ignored the challenge.

      ‘I ought to have a “Smoker’s Companion”,’ he said regretfully. ‘I wonder where one buys them?’

      ‘There’s always the patent corkscrew Aunt Araminta gave you last Christmas,’ said Tuppence helpfully.

      ‘That’s true,’ said Tommy. ‘A curious-looking engine of destruction I thought it at the time, and rather a humorous present to get from a strictly teetotal aunt.’

      ‘I,’ said Tuppence, ‘shall be Polton.’

      Tommy looked at her scornfully.

      ‘Polton indeed. You couldn’t begin to do one of the things that he does.’

      ‘Yes, I can,’ said Tuppence. ‘I can rub my hands together when I’m pleased. That’s quite enough to get on with. I hope you’re going to take plaster casts of footprints?’

      Tommy was reduced to silence. Having collected the corkscrew they went round to the garage, got out the car and started for Wimbledon.

      The Laurels was a big house. It ran somewhat to gables and turrets, had an air of being very newly painted and was surrounded with neat flower beds filled with scarlet geraniums.

      A tall man with a close-cropped white moustache, and an exaggeratedly martial bearing opened the door before Tommy had time to ring.

      ‘I’ve been looking out for you,’ he explained fussily. ‘Mr Blunt, is it not? I am Colonel Kingston Bruce. Will you come into my study?’

      He let them into a small room at the back of the house.

      ‘Young St Vincent was telling me wonderful things about your firm. I’ve noticed your advertisements myself. This guaranteed twenty-four hours’ service of yours – a marvellous notion. That’s exactly what I need.’

      Inwardly anathematising Tuppence for her irresponsibility in inventing this brilliant detail, Tommy replied: ‘Just so, Colonel.’

      ‘The whole thing is most distressing, sir, most distressing.’

      ‘Perhaps you would kindly give me the facts,’ said Tommy, with a hint of impatience.

      ‘Certainly I will – at once. We have at the present moment staying with us a very old and dear friend of ours, Lady Laura Barton. Daughter of the late Earl of Carrowway. The present earl, her brother, made a striking speech in the House of Lords the other day. As I say, she is an old and dear friend of ours. Some American friends of mine who have just come over, the Hamilton Betts, were most anxious to meet her. “Nothing easier,” I said. “She is staying with me now. Come down for the weekend.” You know what Americans are about titles, Mr Blunt.’

      ‘And others beside Americans sometimes, Colonel Kingston Bruce.’

      ‘Alas! only too true, my dear sir. Nothing I hate more than a snob. Well, as I was saying, the Betts came down for the weekend. Last night – we were playing bridge at the time – the clasp of a pendant Mrs Hamilton Betts was wearing broke, so she took it off and laid it down on a small table, meaning to take it upstairs with her when she went. This, however, she forgot to do. I must explain, Mr Blunt, that the pendant consisted of two small diamond wings, and a big pink pearl depending from them. The pendant was found this morning lying where Mrs Betts had left it, but the pearl, a pearl of enormous value, had been wrenched off.’

      ‘Who found the pendant?’

      ‘The parlourmaid – Gladys Hill.’

      ‘Any reason to suspect her?’

      ‘She has been with us some years, and we have always found her perfectly honest. But, of course, one never knows –’

      ‘Exactly. Will you describe your staff, and also tell me who was present at dinner last night?’

      ‘There is the cook – she has been with us only two months, but then she would have no occasion to go near the drawing-room – the same applies to the kitchenmaid. Then there is the housemaid, Alice Cummings. She also has been with us for some years. And Lady Laura’s maid, of course. She is French.’

      Colonel Kingston Bruce looked very impressive as he said this. Tommy, unaffected by the revelation of the maid’s nationality, said: ‘Exactly. And the party at dinner?’

      ‘Mr and Mrs Betts, ourselves – my wife and daughter – and Lady Laura. Young St Vincent was dining with us, and Mr Rennie looked in after dinner for a while.’

      ‘Who is Mr Rennie?’

      ‘A most pestilential fellow – an arrant socialist. Good looking, of course, and with a certain specious power of argument. But a man, I don’t mind telling you, whom I wouldn’t trust a yard. A dangerous sort of fellow.’

      ‘In fact,’ said Tommy drily, ‘it is Mr Rennie whom you suspect?’

      ‘I do, Mr Blunt. I’m sure, holding the views he does, that he can have no principles whatsoever. What could have been easier for him than to have quietly wrenched off the pearl at a moment when we were all absorbed in our game? There were several absorbing moments – a redoubled no trump hand, I remember, and also a painful argument when my wife had the misfortune to revoke.’

      ‘Quite СКАЧАТЬ