Read Online By The Pricking of My Thumbs by Agatha Christie - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Agatha Christie
Ads: Link
find Great Michelden, and for a long time she was quite unable to find the lost canal. If she had had any idea of which village she was looking for, things might have gone more easily. Tracking canals on maps was merely puzzling. Now and again she came to the railway which cheered her up and she would then push on hopefully for Bees Hill, South Winterton and Farrell St Edmund. Farrell St Edmund had once had a station, but it had been abolished some time ago! 'If only,' thought Tuppence, 'there was some well-behaved road that ran alongside a canal, or alongside a railway line, it would make it so much easier.'
The day wore on and Tuppence became more and more baffled. Occasionally she came upon a farm adjacent to a canal but the road having led to the farm insisted on having nothing more to do with the canal and went over a hill and arrived at something called Westpenfold which had a church with a square tower which was no use at all.
From there when disconsolately pursuing a rutted road which seemed the only way out of Westpenfold and which to Tuppence's sense of direction (which was now becoming increasingly unreliable) seemed to lead in the opposite direction to anywhere she could possibly want to go, she came abruptly to a place where two lanes forked right and left. There was the remains of a signpost between them, the arms of which had both been broken off.
'Which way?' said Tuppence. 'Who knows? I don't.'
She took the left hand one.
It meandered on, winding to left and to right. Finally it shot round a bend, widened out and climbed a hill, coming out of woods into open downlike country. Having surmounted the crest it took a steep downward course. Not very far away a plaintive cry sounded. 'Sounds like a train,' said Tuppence, with sudden hope.
It was a train. Then below her was the railway line and a long goods train uttering cries of distress as it puffed along. And beyond it was the canal and on the other side of the canal was a house that Tuppence recognized and, leading across the canal was a small hump-backed, pink-bricked bridge. The road dipped under the railway, came up, and made for the bridge.
Tuppence drove very gently over the narrow bridge. Beyond it the road went on with the house on the right hand side of it.
Tuppence drove on looking for the way in. There didn't seem to be one. A fairly high wall shielded it from the road.
The house was on her right now. She stopped the car and walked back onto the bridge and looked at what she could see of the house from there.
Most of the tall windows were shuttered with green shutters.
The house had a very quiet and empty look. It looked peaceful and kindly in the setting sun. There was nothing to suggest that anyone lived in it. She went back to the car and drove a little farther. The wall, a moderately high one, ran along to her right.
The left hand side of the road was merely a hedge giving on green fields.
Presently she came to a wrought-iron gate in the wall. She parked the car by the side of the road, got out and went over to look through the ironwork of the gate. By standing on tiptoe she could look over it. What she looked into was a garden. The place was certainly not a farm now, though it might have been once. Presumably it gave on fields beyond it. The garden was tended and cultivated. It was not particularly well kept but it looked as though someone was trying rather unsuccessfully to keep it tidy.
From the iron gate a circular path curved through the garden and round to the house. This must be presumably the front door, though it didn't look like a front door. It was inconspicuous though sturdy - a back door. The house looked quite different from this side. To begin with, it was not empty.
People lived there. Windows were open, curtains fluttered at them, a garbage pail stood by the door. At the far end of the garden Tuppence could see a large man digging, a big elderly man who dug slowly and with persistence. Certainly looked at from here
The day wore on and Tuppence became more and more baffled. Occasionally she came upon a farm adjacent to a canal but the road having led to the farm insisted on having nothing more to do with the canal and went over a hill and arrived at something called Westpenfold which had a church with a square tower which was no use at all.
From there when disconsolately pursuing a rutted road which seemed the only way out of Westpenfold and which to Tuppence's sense of direction (which was now becoming increasingly unreliable) seemed to lead in the opposite direction to anywhere she could possibly want to go, she came abruptly to a place where two lanes forked right and left. There was the remains of a signpost between them, the arms of which had both been broken off.
'Which way?' said Tuppence. 'Who knows? I don't.'
She took the left hand one.
It meandered on, winding to left and to right. Finally it shot round a bend, widened out and climbed a hill, coming out of woods into open downlike country. Having surmounted the crest it took a steep downward course. Not very far away a plaintive cry sounded. 'Sounds like a train,' said Tuppence, with sudden hope.
It was a train. Then below her was the railway line and a long goods train uttering cries of distress as it puffed along. And beyond it was the canal and on the other side of the canal was a house that Tuppence recognized and, leading across the canal was a small hump-backed, pink-bricked bridge. The road dipped under the railway, came up, and made for the bridge.
Tuppence drove very gently over the narrow bridge. Beyond it the road went on with the house on the right hand side of it.
Tuppence drove on looking for the way in. There didn't seem to be one. A fairly high wall shielded it from the road.
The house was on her right now. She stopped the car and walked back onto the bridge and looked at what she could see of the house from there.
Most of the tall windows were shuttered with green shutters.
The house had a very quiet and empty look. It looked peaceful and kindly in the setting sun. There was nothing to suggest that anyone lived in it. She went back to the car and drove a little farther. The wall, a moderately high one, ran along to her right.
The left hand side of the road was merely a hedge giving on green fields.
Presently she came to a wrought-iron gate in the wall. She parked the car by the side of the road, got out and went over to look through the ironwork of the gate. By standing on tiptoe she could look over it. What she looked into was a garden. The place was certainly not a farm now, though it might have been once. Presumably it gave on fields beyond it. The garden was tended and cultivated. It was not particularly well kept but it looked as though someone was trying rather unsuccessfully to keep it tidy.
From the iron gate a circular path curved through the garden and round to the house. This must be presumably the front door, though it didn't look like a front door. It was inconspicuous though sturdy - a back door. The house looked quite different from this side. To begin with, it was not empty.
People lived there. Windows were open, curtains fluttered at them, a garbage pail stood by the door. At the far end of the garden Tuppence could see a large man digging, a big elderly man who dug slowly and with persistence. Certainly looked at from here
Similar Books
