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Authors: Agatha Christie
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Sergeant?”
“You are quite right, Mr. Simmons. Can I have a word with you, please?”
“I am innocent, Inspector. I swear I am innocent.”
“Now then, Mr. Simmons, don't play the fool. I've a good many other people to see and I don't want to waste time. What's this room? Can we go in here?”
“It's the so-called study - but nobody studies.”
“I was told that you were studying?” said Craddock.
“I found I couldn't concentrate on mathematics, so I came home.”
In a businesslike manner Inspector Craddock demanded full name, age, details of war service.
“And now, Mr. Simmons, will you describe what happened last night?”
“We killed the fatted calf, Inspector. That is, Mitzi set her hand to making savoury pastries. Aunt Letty opened a new bottle of sherry -”
Craddock interrupted. “A new bottle? Was there an old one?”
“Yes. Half full. But Aunt Letty didn't seem to fancy it.”
“Was she nervous, then?”
“Oh, not really. She's extremely sensible. It was old Bunny, I think, who had put the wind up her - prophesying disaster all day.”
“Miss Bunner was definitely apprehensive, then?”
“Oh, yes, she enjoyed herself thoroughly.”
“She took the advertisement seriously?”
“It scared her into fits.”
“Miss Blacklog seems to have thought, when she first read that advertisement, that you had had something to do with it. Why was that?”
“Ah, sure, I get blamed for everything round here!”
“You didn't have anything to do with it, did you, Mr. Simmons?”
“Me? Never in the world.”
“Had you ever seen or spoken to this Rudi Scherz?”
“Never seen him in my life.”
“It was the kind of joke you might have played, though?”
“Who's been telling you that? Just because I once made Bunny an apple-pie bed - and sent Mitzi a postcard saying the Gestapo was on her track -”
“Just give me your account of what happened.”
“I'd just gone into the small drawing-room to fetch the drinks when, Hey Presto, the lights went out. I turned round and there's a fellow standing in the doorway saying, 'Stick your hands up,' and everybody gasping and squealing, and just when I'm thinking - can I rush him? he starts firing a revolver and then crash down he goes and his torch goes out and we're in the dark again, and Colonel Easterbrook starts shouting orders in his barrack-room voice. 'Lights,' he says, and will my lighter go on? No, it won't as is the way of those cussed inventions.”
“Did it seem to you that the intruder was definitely aiming at Miss Blacklog?”
“Ah, how could I tell? I should say he just loosed off his revolver for the fun of the thing - and then found, maybe, he'd gone too far.”
“And shot himself?”
“It could be. When I saw the face of him, he looked like the kind of little pasty thief who might easily lose his nerve.”
“And you're sure you had never seen him before?”
“Never.”
“Thank you, Mr. Simmons. I shall want to interview the other people who were here last night. Which would be the best order in which to take them?”
“Well, our Phillipa - Mrs. Haymes - works at Dayas Hall. The gates of it are nearly opposite this gate, After that, the Swettenhams are the nearest. Anyone will tell you.”
A Murder is Announces
Chapter 7AMONG THOSE PRESENT
Dayas hall had certainly suffered during the war years. Couch grass grew enthusiastically over what had once been an asparagus bed, as evidenced by a few waving tufts of asparagus foliage. Groundsel, bindweed and other garden pests showed every sign of vigorous growth.
A portion of the kitchen garden bore evidence of having been reduced to discipline and here Craddock found a sour-looking old man leaning pensively on a spade.
“It's Mrs. 'Aymes you want? I couldn't say where you'd find 'er. 'As 'er own ideas, she 'as, about what she'll do. Not one to take advice. I could show her - show 'er willing - but what's the good, won't listen these young ladies won't! Think they know
“You are quite right, Mr. Simmons. Can I have a word with you, please?”
“I am innocent, Inspector. I swear I am innocent.”
“Now then, Mr. Simmons, don't play the fool. I've a good many other people to see and I don't want to waste time. What's this room? Can we go in here?”
“It's the so-called study - but nobody studies.”
“I was told that you were studying?” said Craddock.
“I found I couldn't concentrate on mathematics, so I came home.”
In a businesslike manner Inspector Craddock demanded full name, age, details of war service.
“And now, Mr. Simmons, will you describe what happened last night?”
“We killed the fatted calf, Inspector. That is, Mitzi set her hand to making savoury pastries. Aunt Letty opened a new bottle of sherry -”
Craddock interrupted. “A new bottle? Was there an old one?”
“Yes. Half full. But Aunt Letty didn't seem to fancy it.”
“Was she nervous, then?”
“Oh, not really. She's extremely sensible. It was old Bunny, I think, who had put the wind up her - prophesying disaster all day.”
“Miss Bunner was definitely apprehensive, then?”
“Oh, yes, she enjoyed herself thoroughly.”
“She took the advertisement seriously?”
“It scared her into fits.”
“Miss Blacklog seems to have thought, when she first read that advertisement, that you had had something to do with it. Why was that?”
“Ah, sure, I get blamed for everything round here!”
“You didn't have anything to do with it, did you, Mr. Simmons?”
“Me? Never in the world.”
“Had you ever seen or spoken to this Rudi Scherz?”
“Never seen him in my life.”
“It was the kind of joke you might have played, though?”
“Who's been telling you that? Just because I once made Bunny an apple-pie bed - and sent Mitzi a postcard saying the Gestapo was on her track -”
“Just give me your account of what happened.”
“I'd just gone into the small drawing-room to fetch the drinks when, Hey Presto, the lights went out. I turned round and there's a fellow standing in the doorway saying, 'Stick your hands up,' and everybody gasping and squealing, and just when I'm thinking - can I rush him? he starts firing a revolver and then crash down he goes and his torch goes out and we're in the dark again, and Colonel Easterbrook starts shouting orders in his barrack-room voice. 'Lights,' he says, and will my lighter go on? No, it won't as is the way of those cussed inventions.”
“Did it seem to you that the intruder was definitely aiming at Miss Blacklog?”
“Ah, how could I tell? I should say he just loosed off his revolver for the fun of the thing - and then found, maybe, he'd gone too far.”
“And shot himself?”
“It could be. When I saw the face of him, he looked like the kind of little pasty thief who might easily lose his nerve.”
“And you're sure you had never seen him before?”
“Never.”
“Thank you, Mr. Simmons. I shall want to interview the other people who were here last night. Which would be the best order in which to take them?”
“Well, our Phillipa - Mrs. Haymes - works at Dayas Hall. The gates of it are nearly opposite this gate, After that, the Swettenhams are the nearest. Anyone will tell you.”
A Murder is Announces
Chapter 7AMONG THOSE PRESENT
Dayas hall had certainly suffered during the war years. Couch grass grew enthusiastically over what had once been an asparagus bed, as evidenced by a few waving tufts of asparagus foliage. Groundsel, bindweed and other garden pests showed every sign of vigorous growth.
A portion of the kitchen garden bore evidence of having been reduced to discipline and here Craddock found a sour-looking old man leaning pensively on a spade.
“It's Mrs. 'Aymes you want? I couldn't say where you'd find 'er. 'As 'er own ideas, she 'as, about what she'll do. Not one to take advice. I could show her - show 'er willing - but what's the good, won't listen these young ladies won't! Think they know
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