Read Online Peril at End House by Agatha Christie - Free Book Online Page B

party for reviving the drooping spirits,’ remarked Nick. And with a little laugh she went out.
    ‘Pauvre enfant,’ said Poirot.
    He reached for his hat and carefully flicked an infinitesimal speck of dust from its surface.
    ‘We are going out?’ I asked.
    ‘Mais oui, we have legal business to transact, mon ami .’
    ‘Of course. I understand.’
    ‘One of your brilliant mentality could not fail to do so, Hastings.’
    The offices of Messrs Vyse, Trevannion & Wynnard were situated in the main street of the town. We mounted the stairs to the first floor and entered a room where three clerks were busily writing. Poirot asked to see Mr Charles Vyse.
    A clerk murmured a few words down a telephone,received, apparently, an affirmative reply, and remarking that Mr Vyse would see us now, he led us across the passage, tapped on a door and stood aside for us to pass in.
    From behind a large desk covered with legal papers, Mr Vyse rose up to greet us.
    He was a tall young man, rather pale, with impassive features. He was going a little bald on either temple and wore glasses. His colouring was fair and indeterminate.
    Poirot had come prepared for the encounter. Fortunately he had with him an agreement, as yet unsigned, and so on some technical points in connection with this, he wanted Mr Vyse’s advice.
    Mr Vyse, speaking carefully and correctly, was soon able to allay Poirot’s alleged doubts, and to clear up some obscure points of the wording.
    ‘I am very much obliged to you,’ murmured Poirot. ‘As a foreigner, you comprehend, these legal matters and phrasing are most difficult.’
    It was then that Mr Vyse asked who had sent Poirot to him.
    ‘Miss Buckley,’ said Poirot, promptly. ‘Your cousin, is she not? A most charming young lady. I happened to mention that I was in perplexity and she told me to come to you. I tried to see you on Saturday morning—about half-past twelve—but you were out.’
    ‘Yes, I remember. I left early on Saturday.’
    ‘Mademoiselle your cousin must find that large house very lonely? She lives there alone, I understand.’
    ‘Quite so.’
    ‘Tell me, Mr Vyse, if I may ask, is there any chance of that property being in the market?’
    ‘Not the least, I should say.’
    ‘You understand, I do not ask idly. I have a reason! I am in search, myself, of just such a property. The climate of St Loo enchants me. It is true that the house appears to be in bad repair, there has not been, I gather, much money to spend upon it. Under those circumstances, is it not possible that Mademoiselle would consider an offer?’
    ‘Not the least likelihood of it.’ Charles Vyse shook his head with the utmost decision. ‘My cousin is absolutely devoted to the place. Nothing would induce her to sell, I know. It is, you understand, a family place.’
    ‘I comprehend that, but—’
    ‘It is absolutely out of the question. I know my cousin. She has a fanatical devotion to the house.’
    A few minutes later we were out in the street again.
    ‘Well, my friend,’ said Poirot. ‘And what impression did this M. Charles Vyse make upon you?’
    I considered.
    ‘A very negative one,’ I said at last. ‘He is a curiously negative person.’
    ‘Not a strong personality, you would say?’
    ‘No, indeed. The kind of man you would neverremember on meeting him again. A mediocre person.’
    ‘His appearance is certainly not striking. Did you notice any discrepancy in the course of our conversation with him?’
    ‘Yes,’ I said slowly, ‘I did. With regard to the selling of End House.’
    ‘Exactly. Would you have described Mademoiselle Buckley’s attitude towards End House as one of “fanatical devotion”?’
    ‘It is a very strong term.’
    ‘Yes—and Mr Vyse is not given to using strong terms. His normal attitude—a legal attitude—is to under, rather than over, state. Yet he says that Mademoiselle has a fanatical devotion to the home of her ancestors.’
    ‘She did not convey that impression this