Read Online Peril at End House by Agatha Christie - Free Book Online
Authors: Agatha Christie
Ads: Link
Australia?’
The rest of our visit passed uneventfully. Ten minutes later we took our leave.
‘Nice people,’ I said. ‘So simple and unassuming. Typical Australians.’
‘You liked them?’
‘Didn’t you?’
‘They were very pleasant—very friendly.’
‘Well, what is it, then? There’s something, I can see.’
‘They were, perhaps, just a shade too “typical”,’ said Poirot, thoughtfully. ‘That cry of Cooee—that insistence on showing us snapshots—was it not playing a part just a little too thoroughly?’
‘What a suspicious old devil you are!’
‘You are right, mon ami . I am suspicious of everyone—of everything. I am afraid, Hastings—afraid.’
Chapter 6
A Call Upon Mr Vyse
Poirot clung firmly to the Continental breakfast. To see me consuming eggs and bacon upset and distressed him—so he always said. Consequently he breakfasted in bed upon coffee and rolls and I was free to start the day with the traditional Englishman’s breakfast of bacon and eggs and marmalade.
I looked into his room on Monday morning as I went downstairs. He was sitting up in bed arrayed in a very marvellous dressing-gown.
‘ Bonjour , Hastings. I was just about to ring. This note that I have written, will you be so good as to get it taken over to End House and delivered to Mademoiselle at once.’
I held out my hand for it. Poirot looked at me and sighed.
‘If only—if only, Hastings, you would part your hair in the middle instead of at the side! What a difference itwould make to the symmetry of your appearance. And your moustache. If you must have a moustache, let it be a real moustache—a thing of beauty such as mine.’
Repressing a shudder at the thought, I took the note firmly from Poirot’s hand and left the room.
I had rejoined him in our sitting-room when word was sent up to say Miss Buckley had called. Poirot gave the order for her to be shown up.
She came in gaily enough, but I fancied that the circles under her eyes were darker than usual. In her hand she held a telegram which she handed to Poirot.
‘There,’ she said. ‘I hope that will please you!’
Poirot read it aloud.
‘Arrive 5.30 today. Maggie.’
‘My nurse and guardian!’ said Nick. ‘But you’re wrong, you know. Maggie’s got no kind of brains. Good works is about all she’s fit for. That and never seeing the point of jokes. Freddie would be ten times better at spotting hidden assassins. And Jim Lazarus would be better still. I never feel one has got to the bottom of Jim.’
‘And the Commander Challenger?’
‘Oh! George! He’d never see anything till it was under his nose. But he’d let them have it when he did see. Very useful when it came to a show-down, George would be.’
She tossed off her hat and went on:
‘I gave orders for the man you wrote about to be let in. It sounds mysterious. Is he installing a dictaphone or something like that?’
Poirot shook his head.
‘No, no, nothing scientific. A very simple little matter of opinion, Mademoiselle. Something I wanted to know.’
‘Oh, well,’ said Nick. ‘It’s all great fun, isn’t it?’
‘Is it, Mademoiselle?’ asked Poirot, gently.
She stood for a minute with her back to us, looking out of the window. Then she turned. All the brave defiance had gone out of her face. It was childishly twisted awry, as she struggled to keep back the tears.
‘No,’ she said. ‘It—it isn’t, really. I’m afraid—I’m afraid. Hideously afraid. And I always thought I was brave.’
‘So you are, mon enfant , so you are. Both Hastings and I, we have both admired your courage.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ I put in warmly.
‘No,’ said Nick, shaking her head. ‘I’m not brave. It’s—it’s the waiting . Wondering the whole time if anything more’s going to happen. And how it’ll happen! And expecting it to happen.’
‘Yes, yes—it is the strain.’
‘Last night I pulled my bed out into the middle of the room. And fastened my window and
The rest of our visit passed uneventfully. Ten minutes later we took our leave.
‘Nice people,’ I said. ‘So simple and unassuming. Typical Australians.’
‘You liked them?’
‘Didn’t you?’
‘They were very pleasant—very friendly.’
‘Well, what is it, then? There’s something, I can see.’
‘They were, perhaps, just a shade too “typical”,’ said Poirot, thoughtfully. ‘That cry of Cooee—that insistence on showing us snapshots—was it not playing a part just a little too thoroughly?’
‘What a suspicious old devil you are!’
‘You are right, mon ami . I am suspicious of everyone—of everything. I am afraid, Hastings—afraid.’
Chapter 6
A Call Upon Mr Vyse
Poirot clung firmly to the Continental breakfast. To see me consuming eggs and bacon upset and distressed him—so he always said. Consequently he breakfasted in bed upon coffee and rolls and I was free to start the day with the traditional Englishman’s breakfast of bacon and eggs and marmalade.
I looked into his room on Monday morning as I went downstairs. He was sitting up in bed arrayed in a very marvellous dressing-gown.
‘ Bonjour , Hastings. I was just about to ring. This note that I have written, will you be so good as to get it taken over to End House and delivered to Mademoiselle at once.’
I held out my hand for it. Poirot looked at me and sighed.
‘If only—if only, Hastings, you would part your hair in the middle instead of at the side! What a difference itwould make to the symmetry of your appearance. And your moustache. If you must have a moustache, let it be a real moustache—a thing of beauty such as mine.’
Repressing a shudder at the thought, I took the note firmly from Poirot’s hand and left the room.
I had rejoined him in our sitting-room when word was sent up to say Miss Buckley had called. Poirot gave the order for her to be shown up.
She came in gaily enough, but I fancied that the circles under her eyes were darker than usual. In her hand she held a telegram which she handed to Poirot.
‘There,’ she said. ‘I hope that will please you!’
Poirot read it aloud.
‘Arrive 5.30 today. Maggie.’
‘My nurse and guardian!’ said Nick. ‘But you’re wrong, you know. Maggie’s got no kind of brains. Good works is about all she’s fit for. That and never seeing the point of jokes. Freddie would be ten times better at spotting hidden assassins. And Jim Lazarus would be better still. I never feel one has got to the bottom of Jim.’
‘And the Commander Challenger?’
‘Oh! George! He’d never see anything till it was under his nose. But he’d let them have it when he did see. Very useful when it came to a show-down, George would be.’
She tossed off her hat and went on:
‘I gave orders for the man you wrote about to be let in. It sounds mysterious. Is he installing a dictaphone or something like that?’
Poirot shook his head.
‘No, no, nothing scientific. A very simple little matter of opinion, Mademoiselle. Something I wanted to know.’
‘Oh, well,’ said Nick. ‘It’s all great fun, isn’t it?’
‘Is it, Mademoiselle?’ asked Poirot, gently.
She stood for a minute with her back to us, looking out of the window. Then she turned. All the brave defiance had gone out of her face. It was childishly twisted awry, as she struggled to keep back the tears.
‘No,’ she said. ‘It—it isn’t, really. I’m afraid—I’m afraid. Hideously afraid. And I always thought I was brave.’
‘So you are, mon enfant , so you are. Both Hastings and I, we have both admired your courage.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ I put in warmly.
‘No,’ said Nick, shaking her head. ‘I’m not brave. It’s—it’s the waiting . Wondering the whole time if anything more’s going to happen. And how it’ll happen! And expecting it to happen.’
‘Yes, yes—it is the strain.’
‘Last night I pulled my bed out into the middle of the room. And fastened my window and
Similar Books
