The Murder on the Links by Agatha Christie (read novel full TXT) đ
- Author: Agatha Christie
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She not unnaturally gave a suppressed shriek, but I, too, uttered an exclamation of surprise. For it was my friend of the train, Cinderella!
The surprise was mutual.
âYou,â we both exclaimed simultaneously.
The young lady recovered herself first.
âMy only Aunt!â she exclaimed. âWhat are you doing here?â
âFor the matter of that, what are you?â I retorted.
âWhen last I saw you, the day before yesterday, you were trotting home to England like a good little boy. Have they given you a season ticket to and fro, on the strength of your M.P.?â
I ignored the end of the speech.
âWhen last I saw you,â I said, âyou were trotting home with your sister, like a good little girl. By the way, how is your sister?â
A flash of white teeth rewarded me.
âHow kind of you to ask! My sister is well, I thank you.â
âShe is here with you?â
âShe remained in town,â said the minx with dignity.
âI donât believe youâve got a sister,â I laughed. âIf you have, her name is Harris!â
âDo you remember mine?â she asked, with a smile.
âCinderella. But youâre going to tell me the real one now, arenât you?â
She shook her head with a wicked look.
âNot even why youâre here?â
âOh, that! I suppose youâve heard of members of my profession âresting.âââ
âAt expensive French watering-places?â
âDirt cheap if you know where to go.â
I eyed her keenly.
âStill, youâd no intention of coming here when I met you two days ago?â
âWe all have our disappointments,â said Miss Cinderella sententiously. âThere now, Iâve told you quite as much as is good for you. Little boys should not be inquisitive. Youâve not yet told me what youâre doing here? Got the M.P. in tow, I suppose, doing the gay boy on the beach.â
I shook my head. âGuess again. You remember my telling you that my great friend was a detective?â
âYes?â
âAnd perhaps youâve heard about this crimeâat the Villa GeneviĂšveâ?â
She stared at me. Her breast heaved, and her eyes grew wide and round.
âYou donât meanâthat youâre in on that?â
I nodded. There was no doubt that I had scored heavily. Her emotion, as she regarded me, was only too evident. For some few seconds, she remained silent, staring at me. Then she nodded her head emphatically.
âWell, if that doesnât beat the band! Tote me round. I want to see all the horrors.â
âWhat do you mean?â
âWhat I say. Bless the boy, didnât I tell you I doted on crimes? What do you think Iâm imperilling my ankles for in high-heeled shoes over this stubble? Iâve been nosing round for hours. Tried the front way in, but that old stick-in-the-mud of a French gendarme wasnât taking any. I guess Helen of Troy, and Cleopatra, and Mary, Queen of Scots, rolled in one wouldnât cut ice with him! Itâs a real piece of luck happening on you this way. Come on, show me all the sights.â
âBut look hereâwait a minuteâI canât. Nobodyâs allowed in. Theyâre awfully strict.â
âArenât you and your friend the big bugs?â
I was loath to relinquish my position of importance.
âWhy are you so keen?â I asked weakly. âAnd what is it you want to see.â
âOh, everything! The place where it happened, and the weapon, and the body, and any finger-prints or interesting things like that. Iâve never had a chance of being right in on a murder like this before. Itâll last me all my life?â
I turned away, sickened. What were women coming to nowadays? The girlâs ghoulish excitement nauseated me. I had read of the mobs of women who besieged the law courts when some wretched man was being tried for his life on the capital charge. I had sometimes wondered who these women were. Now I knew. They were of the likeness of Cinderella, young, yet obsessed with a yearning for morbid excitement, for sensation at any price, without regard to any decency or good feeling. The vividness of the girlâs beauty had attracted me in spite of myself, yet at heart I retained my first impression of disapproval and dislike. I thought of my mother, long since dead. What would she have said of this strange modern product of girlhood? The pretty face with the paint and powder, and the ghoulish mind behind!
âCome off your high horse,â said the lady suddenly. âAnd donât give yourself airs. When you got called to this job, did you put your nose in the air and say it was a nasty business, and you wouldnât be mixed up in it?â
âNo, butââ
âIf youâd been here on a holiday, wouldnât you be nosing round just the same as I am? Of course you would.â
âIâm a man. Youâre a woman.â
âYour idea of a woman is some one who gets on a chair and shrieks if she sees a mouse. Thatâs all prehistoric. But you will show me round, wonât you? You see, it might make a big difference to me.â
âIn what way?â
âTheyâre keeping all the reporters out. I might make a big scoop with one of the papers. You donât know how much they pay for a bit of inside stuff.â
I hesitated. She slipped a small soft hand into mine.
âPleaseâthereâs a dear.â
I capitulated. Secretly, I knew that I should rather enjoy the part of showman. After all, the moral attitude displayed by the girl was none of my business. I was a little nervous as to what the examining magistrate might say, but I reassured myself by the reflection that no harm could possibly be done.
We repaired first to the spot where the body had been discovered. A man was on guard there, who saluted respectfully, knowing me by sight, and raised no question as to my companion. Presumably he regarded her as vouched for by me. I explained to Cinderella just how the discovery had been made, and she listened attentively, sometimes putting an intelligent question. Then we turned our steps in the direction of the Villa. I proceeded rather cautiously, for, truth to tell, I was not at all anxious to meet any one. I took the girl through the shrubbery round to the back of the house where the small shed was. I recollected that yesterday evening, after relocking the door, M. Bex had left the key with the sergent de ville Marchaud, âin case M. Giraud should require it while we are upstairs.â I thought it quite likely that the SĂ»retĂ© detective, after using it, had returned it to Marchaud again. Leaving the girl out of sight in the shrubbery, I entered the house. Marchaud was on duty outside the door of the salon. From within came the murmur of voices.
âMonsieur desires Hautet? He is within. He is again interrogating Françoise.â
âNo,â I said hastily, âI donât want him. But I should very much like the key of the shed outside if it is not against regulations.â
âBut certainly, monsieur.â He produced it. âHere it is. M. le juge gave orders that all facilities were to be placed at your disposal. You will return it to me when you have finished out there, that is all.â
âOf course.â
I felt a thrill of satisfaction as I realized that in Marchaudâs eyes, at least, I ranked equally in importance with Poirot. The girl was waiting for me. She gave an exclamation of delight as she saw the key in my hand.
âYouâve got it then?â
âOf course,â I said coolly. âAll the same, you know, what Iâm doing is highly irregular.â
âYouâve been a perfect duck, and I shanât forget it. Come along. They canât see us from the house, can they?â
âWait a minute.â I arrested her eager advance. âI wonât stop you if you really wish to go in. But do you? Youâve seen the grave, and the grounds, and youâve heard all the details of the affair. Isnât that enough for you? This is going to be gruesome, you know, andâunpleasant.â
She looked at me for a moment with an expression that I could not quite fathom. Then she laughed.
âMe for the horrors,â she said. âCome along.â
In silence we arrived at the door of the shed. I opened it and we passed in. I walked over to the body, and gently pulled down the sheet as M. Bex had done the preceding afternoon. A little gasping sound escaped from the girlâs lips, and I turned and looked at her. There was horror on her face now, and those debonair high spirits of hers were quenched utterly. She had not chosen to listen to my advice, and she was punished now for her disregard of it. I felt singularly merciless towards her. She should go through with it now. I turned the corpse gently over.
âYou see,â I said, âhe was stabbed in the back.â
Her voice was almost soundless.
âWith what?â
I nodded towards the glass jar.
âThat dagger.â
Suddenly the girl reeled, and then sank down in a heap. I sprang to her assistance.
âYou are faint. Come out of here. It has been too much for you.â
âWater,â she murmured. âQuick. Water.ââŠâ
I left her, and rushed into the house. Fortunately none of the servants were about, and I was able to secure a glass of water unobserved and add a few drops of brandy from a pocket flask. In a few minutes I was back again. The girl was lying as I had left her, but a few sips of the brandy and water revived her in a marvellous manner.
âTake me out of hereâoh, quickly, quickly!â she cried, shuddering.
Supporting her with my arm I led her out into the air, and she pulled the door to behind her. Then she drew a deep breath.
âThatâs better. Oh, it was horrible! Why did you ever let me go in?â
I felt this to be so feminine that I could not forbear a smile. Secretly, I was not dissatisfied with her collapse. It proved that she was not quite so callous as I had thought her. After all she was little more than a child, and her curiosity had probably been of the unthinking order.
âI did my best to stop you, you know,â I said gently.
âI suppose you did. Well, good-bye.â
âLook here, you canât start off like thatâall alone. Youâre not fit for it. I insist on accompanying you back to Merlinville.â
âNonsense. Iâm quite all right now.â
âSupposing you felt faint again? No, I shall come with you.â
But this she combated with a good deal of energy. In the end, however, I prevailed so far as to be allowed to accompany her to the outskirts of the town. We retraced our steps over our former route, passing the grave again, and making a detour on to the road. Where the first straggling line of shops began, she stopped and held out her hand.
âGood-bye, and thank you ever so much for coming with me.â
âAre you sure youâre all right now?â
âQuite, thanks. I hope you wonât get into any trouble over showing me things?â
I disclaimed the idea lightly.
âWell, good-bye.â
âAu revoir,â I corrected. âIf youâre staying here, we shall meet again.â
She flashed a smile at me.
âThatâs so. Au revoir, then.â
âWait a second, you havenât told me your address?â
âOh, Iâm staying at the HĂŽtel du Phare. Itâs a little place, but quite good. Come and look me up tomorrow.â
âI will,â I said, with perhaps rather unnecessary empressement.
I watched her out of sight, then turned and retraced my steps to the Villa. I remembered that I had not relocked the door of the shed. Fortunately no one had noticed the oversight, and turning the key I removed it and returned it to the sergent de ville. And, as I did so, it came upon me suddenly that though Cinderella had given me her address I still did not know her name.
In the Salon I found the examining magistrate busily interrogating the old gardener Auguste. Poirot and the commissary, who were both present, greeted me respectively with a smile and a polite
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