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Authors: Agatha Christie
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not speak, do you hear? I shall say nothing - nothing at all. And you will send me away to a concentration camp, and I shall not care.”
Craddock looked at her thoughtfully, selecting what was likely to be the best method of attack. Finally he sighed and said:
“O.K. then, get your hat and coat.”
“What is that you say?” Mitzi looked startled.
“Get your hat and coat and come along. I haven't got my nail-pulling apparatus and the rest of the bag of tricks with me. We keep all that down at the station. Got the handcuffs handy, Fletcher?”
“Sir!” said Sergeant Fletcher with appreciation.
“But I do not want to come,” screeched Mitzi, backing away from him.
“Then you'll answer civil questions civilly. If you like, you can have a solicitor present.”
“A lawyer? I do not like a lawyer. I do not want a lawyer.”
She put the rolling pin down, dusted her hands on a cloth and sat down.
“What do you want to know?” she asked sulkily.
“I want your account of what happened here last night.”
“You know very well what happened.”
“I want your account of it.”
“I tried to go away. Did she tell you that? When I saw that in the paper saying about murder. I wanted to go away. She would not let me. She is very hard - not at all sympathetic. She made me stay. But I knew - I knew what would happen. I knew I should be murdered.”
“Well, you weren't murdered, were you?”
“No,” admitted Mitzi grudgingly.
“Come now, tell me what happened.”
“I was nervous. Oh, I was nervous. All that evening. I hear things. People moving about. Once I think someone is in the hall moving stealthily - but it is only that Mrs. Haymes coming in through the side door (so as not to dirty the front steps, she says. Much she cares!). She is a Nazi herself, that one, with her fair hair and her blue eyes, so superior and looking at me and thinking that I - I am only dirt -”
“Never mind Mrs. Haymes.”
“Who does she think she is? Has she had expensive university education like I have? Has she a degree in Economics? No, she is just a paid labourer. She digs and mows grass and is paid so much every Saturday. Who is she to call herself a lady?”
“Never mind Mrs. Haymes, I said. Go on.”
“I take the sherry and the glasses, and the little pastries that I have made so nice into the drawing-room. Then the bell rings and I answer the door. Again and again I answer the door. It is degrading - but I do it. And then I go back into the pantry and I start to polish the silver, and I think it will be very handy, that, because if someone comes to kill me, I have there close at hand the big carving knife, all sharp.”
“Very foresighted of you.”
“And then, suddenly - I hear shots. I think: 'It has come - it is happening.' I run through the dining-room (the other door - it will not open) I stand a moment to listen and then there comes another shot and a big thud, out there in the hall, and I turn the door handle, but it is locked outside. I am shut in there like a rat in a trap. And I go mad with fear. I scream and I scream and I beat upon the door. And at last - at last - they turn the key and let me out. And then I bring candles, many many candles - and the lights go on, and I see blood - blood! Ach, Gott im Himmel, the blood! It is not the first time I have seen blood. My little brother - I see him killed before my eyes - I see blood in the street - people shot, dying - I -”
“Yes,” said Inspector Craddock. “Thank you very much.”
“And now,” said Mitzi dramatically, “you can arrest me and take me to prison!”
“Not today,” said Inspector Craddock.
A Murder is Announces
III
As Craddock and Fletcher went through the hall to the front door it was flung open and a tall handsome young man almost collided with them.
“Sleuths, as I live,” cried the young man.
“Mr. Patrick Simmons?”
“Quite right, Inspector. You're the Inspector, aren't you, and the other's the
Craddock looked at her thoughtfully, selecting what was likely to be the best method of attack. Finally he sighed and said:
“O.K. then, get your hat and coat.”
“What is that you say?” Mitzi looked startled.
“Get your hat and coat and come along. I haven't got my nail-pulling apparatus and the rest of the bag of tricks with me. We keep all that down at the station. Got the handcuffs handy, Fletcher?”
“Sir!” said Sergeant Fletcher with appreciation.
“But I do not want to come,” screeched Mitzi, backing away from him.
“Then you'll answer civil questions civilly. If you like, you can have a solicitor present.”
“A lawyer? I do not like a lawyer. I do not want a lawyer.”
She put the rolling pin down, dusted her hands on a cloth and sat down.
“What do you want to know?” she asked sulkily.
“I want your account of what happened here last night.”
“You know very well what happened.”
“I want your account of it.”
“I tried to go away. Did she tell you that? When I saw that in the paper saying about murder. I wanted to go away. She would not let me. She is very hard - not at all sympathetic. She made me stay. But I knew - I knew what would happen. I knew I should be murdered.”
“Well, you weren't murdered, were you?”
“No,” admitted Mitzi grudgingly.
“Come now, tell me what happened.”
“I was nervous. Oh, I was nervous. All that evening. I hear things. People moving about. Once I think someone is in the hall moving stealthily - but it is only that Mrs. Haymes coming in through the side door (so as not to dirty the front steps, she says. Much she cares!). She is a Nazi herself, that one, with her fair hair and her blue eyes, so superior and looking at me and thinking that I - I am only dirt -”
“Never mind Mrs. Haymes.”
“Who does she think she is? Has she had expensive university education like I have? Has she a degree in Economics? No, she is just a paid labourer. She digs and mows grass and is paid so much every Saturday. Who is she to call herself a lady?”
“Never mind Mrs. Haymes, I said. Go on.”
“I take the sherry and the glasses, and the little pastries that I have made so nice into the drawing-room. Then the bell rings and I answer the door. Again and again I answer the door. It is degrading - but I do it. And then I go back into the pantry and I start to polish the silver, and I think it will be very handy, that, because if someone comes to kill me, I have there close at hand the big carving knife, all sharp.”
“Very foresighted of you.”
“And then, suddenly - I hear shots. I think: 'It has come - it is happening.' I run through the dining-room (the other door - it will not open) I stand a moment to listen and then there comes another shot and a big thud, out there in the hall, and I turn the door handle, but it is locked outside. I am shut in there like a rat in a trap. And I go mad with fear. I scream and I scream and I beat upon the door. And at last - at last - they turn the key and let me out. And then I bring candles, many many candles - and the lights go on, and I see blood - blood! Ach, Gott im Himmel, the blood! It is not the first time I have seen blood. My little brother - I see him killed before my eyes - I see blood in the street - people shot, dying - I -”
“Yes,” said Inspector Craddock. “Thank you very much.”
“And now,” said Mitzi dramatically, “you can arrest me and take me to prison!”
“Not today,” said Inspector Craddock.
A Murder is Announces
III
As Craddock and Fletcher went through the hall to the front door it was flung open and a tall handsome young man almost collided with them.
“Sleuths, as I live,” cried the young man.
“Mr. Patrick Simmons?”
“Quite right, Inspector. You're the Inspector, aren't you, and the other's the
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