Read Online The Pale Horse by Agatha Christie - Free Book Online

thin hawk-like face and a beaked nose that stood out from it arrogantly. He wore an open-wing collar which gave him a faintly old-fashioned air.
    Rhoda made introductions.
    Venables smiled at Mrs Oliver.
    “I met this lady yesterday in her professional capacity,” he said. “Six of her books with signatures. Takes care of six presents for Christmas. Great stuff you write, Mrs Oliver. Give us more of it. Can't have too much of it.” He grinned at Ginger. “You nearly landed me with a live duck, young woman.” Then he turned to me. “I enjoyed your article in the Review last month,” he said.
    “It was awfully good of you to come to our fкte, Mr Venables,” said Rhoda. “After that generous check you sent us, I didn't really hope that you'd turn up in person.”
    “Oh, I enjoy that kind of thing. Part of English rural life, isn't it? I came home clasping a most terrible Kewpie doll from the hoopla, and had a splendid but unrealistic future prophesied me by Our Sybil, all dressed up in a tinsel turban with about a ton of fake Egyptian beads slung over her torso.”
    “Good old Sybil,” said Colonel Despard. “We're going there to tea with Thyrza this afternoon. It's an interesting old place.”
    “The Pale Horse? Yes. I rather wish it had been left as an inn. I always feel that that place had had a mysterious and unusually wicked past history. It can't have been smuggling; we're not near enough to the sea for that. A resort for highwaymen, perhaps? Or rich travellers spent the night there and were never seen again. It seems, somehow, rather tame to have turned it into a desirable residence for three old maids.”
    “Oh - I never think of them like that!” cried Rhoda. “Sybil Stamfordis, perhaps, with her saris and her scarabs, and always seeing auras round people's heads - she is rather ridiculous. But there's something really awe-inspiring about Thyrza, don't you agree? You feel she knows just what you're thinking. She doesn't talk about having second sight - but everyone says that she has got it.”
    “And Bella, far from being an old maid, has buried two husbands,” added Colonel Despard.
    “I sincerely beg her pardon,” said Venables laughing.
    “With sinister interpretations of the deaths from the neighbours,” added Despard. “It's said they displeased her, so she just turned her eyes on them, and they slowly sickened and pined away!”
    “Of course, I forgot, she is the local witch?”
    “So Mrs Dane Calthrop says.”
    “Interesting thing, witchcraft,” said Venables thoughtfully. “All over the world you get variations of it - I remember when I was in East Africa -”
    He talked easily, and entertainingly, on the subject He spoke of medicine men in Africa; of little known cults in Borneo. He promised that, after lunch, he would show us some West African sorcerers' masks.
    “There's everything in this house,” declared Rhoda with a laugh.
    “Oh, well -” he shrugged his shoulders - “if you can't go out to everything, then everything must be made to come to you.”
    Just for a moment there was a sudden bitterness in his voice. He gave a swift glance downwards towards his paralyzed legs.
    “'The world is so full of a number of things,'” he quoted. “I think that's always been my undoing. There's so much I want to know about - to see! Oh, well, I haven't done too badly in my time. And even now life has its consolations.”
    “Why here?” asked Mrs Oliver suddenly.
    The others had been slightly ill at ease, as people become when a hint of tragedy looms in the air. Mrs Oliver alone had been unaffected. She asked because she wanted to know. And her frank curiosity restored the lighthearted atmosphere.
    Venables looked towards her inquiringly.
    “I mean,” said Mrs Oliver. “Why did you come to live here, in this neighbourhood? So far away from things that are going on. Was it because you had friends here?”
    “No. I chose this part of the world, since you are interested, because