The Man in the Brown Suit by Agatha Christie (best detective novels of all time TXT) đ
![](/uploads/posts/books/2/8/0/7/5/the-man-in-the-brown-suit.jpg)
- Author: Agatha Christie
- Performer: -
Book online «The Man in the Brown Suit by Agatha Christie (best detective novels of all time TXT) đ». Author Agatha Christie
He paused a minute and then said in a totally different tone:
âWeâve never spoken of these things, Anne, have we? But the timeâs come. I want you to hear the whole storyâfrom the beginning.â
âIf it hurts you to go over the past, donât tell me,â I said in a low voice.
âBut I want you to know. I never thought I should speak of that part of my life to any one. Funny, isnât it, the tricks Fate plays?â
He was silent for a minute or two. The sun had set, and the velvety darkness of the African night was enveloping us like a mantle.
âSome of it I know,â I said gently.
âWhat do you know?â
âI know that your real name is Harry Lucas.â
Still he hesitatedânot looking at me, but staring straight out in front of him. I had no clue as to what was passing in his mind, but at last he jerked his head forward as though acquiescing in some unspoken decision of his own and began his story.
CHAPTER XXVIâYou are right. My real name is Harry Lucas. My father was a retired soldier who came out to farm in Rhodesia. He died when I was in my second year at Cambridge.â
âWere you fond of him?â I asked suddenly.
âIâdonât know.â
Then he flushed and went on with sudden vehemence:
âWhy do I say that? I did love my father. We said bitter things to each other the last time I saw him, and we had many rows over my wildness and my debts, but I cared for the old man. I know how much nowâwhen itâs too late,â he continued more quietly. âIt was at Cambridge that I met the other fellowâââ
âYoung Eardsley?â
âYesâyoung Eardsley. His father, as you know, was one of South Africaâs most prominent men. We drifted together at once, my friend and I. We had our love of South Africa in common and we both had a taste for the untrodden places of the world. After he left Cambridge, Eardsley had a final quarrel with his father. The old man had paid his debts twice, he refused to do so again. There was a bitter scene between them. Sir Laurence declared himself at the end of his patienceâhe would do no more for his son. He must stand on his own legs for a while. The result was, as you know, that those two young men went off to South America together, prospecting for diamonds. Iâm not going into that now, but we had a wonderful time out there. Hardships in plenty, you understand, but it was a good lifeâa hand-to-mouth scramble for existence far from the beaten trackâand, my God! thatâs the place to know a friend. There was a bond forged between us two out there that only death could have broken. Well, as Colonel Race told you, our efforts were crowned with success. We found a second Kimberley in the heart of the British Guiana jungles. I canât tell you our elation. It wasnât so much the actual value in money of the findâyou see, Eardsley was used to money, and he knew that when his father died he would be a millionaire, and Lucas had always been poor and was used to it. No, it was the sheer delight of discovery.â
He paused, and then added, almost apologetically:
âYou donât mind my telling it this way, do you? As though I wasnât in it at all. It seems like that now when I look back and see those two boys. I almost forget that one of them wasâHarry Rayburn.â
âTell it any way you like,â I said, and he went on:
âWe came to Kimberleyâvery cock-a-hoop over our find. We brought a magnificent selection of diamonds with us to submit to the experts. And thenâin the hotel at Kimberleyâwe met herâââ
I stiffened a little, and the hand that rested on the doorpost clenched itself involuntarily.
âAnita GrĂŒnbergâthat was her name. She was an actress. Quite young and very beautiful. She was South African born, but her mother was a Hungarian, I believe. There was some sort of mystery about her, and that, of course, heightened her attraction for two boys home from the wilds. She must have had an easy task. We both fell for her right away, and we both took it hard. It was the first shadow that had ever come between usâbut even then it didnât weaken our friendship. Each of us, I honestly believe, was willing to stand aside for the other to go in and win. But that wasnât her game. Sometimes, afterwards, I wondered why it hadnât been, for Sir Laurence Eardsleyâs only son was quite a parti. But the truth of it was that she was marriedâto a sorter in De Beersââthough nobody knew of it. She pretended enormous interests in our discovery, and we told her all about it and even showed her the diamonds. Delilahâthatâs what she should have been calledâand she played her part well!
âThe De Beers robbery was discovered, and like a thunderclap the police came down upon us. They seized our diamonds. We only laughed at firstâthe whole thing was so absurd. And then the diamonds were produced in courtâand without question they were the stones stolen from De Beersâ. Anita GrĂŒnberg had disappeared. She had effected the substitution neatly enough, and our story that these were not the stones originally in our possession was laughed to scorn.
âSir Laurence Eardsley had enormous influence. He succeeded in getting the case dismissedâbut it left two young men ruined and disgraced to face the world with the stigma of thief attached to their names, and it pretty well broke the old fellowâs heart. He had one bitter interview with his son in which he heaped upon him every reproach imaginable. He had done what he could to save the family name, but from that day on his son was his son no longer. He cast him off utterly. And the boy, like the proud young fool that he was, remained silent, disdaining to protest his innocence in the face of his fatherâs disbelief. He came out furious from the interviewâhis friend was waiting for him. A week later war was declared. The two friends enlisted together. You know what happened. The best pal a man ever had was killed, partly through his own mad recklessness in rushing into unnecessary danger. He died with his name tarnished. . . .
âI swear to you, Anne, that it was mainly on his account that I was so bitter against that woman. It had gone deeper with him than with me. I had been madly in love with her for the momentâI even think that I frightened her sometimesâbut with him it was a quieter and deeper feeling. She had been the very centre of his universeâand her betrayal of him tore up the very roots of life. The blow stunned him and left him paralyzed.â
Harry paused. After a minute or two he went on:
âAs you know, I was reported âMissing, presumed killed.â I never troubled to correct the mistake. I took the name of Parker and came to this island, which I knew of old. At the beginning of the war, I had had ambitious hopes of proving my innocence, but now all that spirit seemed dead. All I felt was, âWhatâs the good?â My pal was dead, neither he nor I had any living relations who would care. I was supposed to be dead too, let it remain at that. I led a peaceful existence here, neither happy nor unhappyânumbed of all feeling. I see now, though I did not realize it at the time, that that was partly the effect of the war.
âAnd then one day something occurred to wake me right up again. I was taking a party of people in my boat on a trip up the river, and I was standing at the landing-stage, helping them in, when one of the men uttered a startled exclamation. It focused my attention on him. He was a small, thin man with a beard, and he was staring at me for all he was worth as though I was a ghost. So powerful was his emotion that it awakened my curiosity. I made inquiries about him at the hotel and learned that his name was Carton, that he came from Kimberley, and that he was a diamond-sorter employed by De Beersâ. In a minute all the old sense of wrong surged over me again. I left the island and went to Kimberley.
âI could find out little more about him, however. In the end, I decided that I must force an interview. I took my revolver with me. In the brief glimpse I had had of him, I had realized that he was a physical coward. No sooner were we face to face than I recognized that he was afraid of me. I soon forced him to tell me all he knew. He had engineered part of the robbery and Anita GrĂŒnberg was his wife. He had once caught sight of both of us when we were dining with her at the hotel, and, having read that I was killed, my appearance in the flesh at the Falls had startled him badly. He and Anita had married quite young, but she had soon drifted away from him. She had got in with a bad lot, he told meâand it was then for the first time that I heard of the âColonel.â Carton himself had never been mixed up in anything except this one affairâso he solemnly assured me, and I was inclined to believe him. He was emphatically not of the stuff of which successful criminals are made.
âI still had the feeling that he was keeping back something. As a test, I threatened to shoot him there and then, declaring that I cared very little what became of me now. In a frenzy of terror he poured out a further story. It seems that Anita GrĂŒnberg did not quite trust the âColonel.â Whilst pretending to hand over to him the stones she had taken from the hotel, she kept back some in her own possession. Carton advised her, with his technical knowledge, which to keep. If, at any time, these stones were produced, they were of such colour and quality as to be readily identifiable, and the experts at De Beersâ would admit at once that these stones had never passed through their hands. In this way my story of a substitution would be supported, my name would be cleared, and suspicion would be diverted to the proper quarter. I gathered that, contrary to his usual practice, the âColonelâ himself had been concerned in this affair, therefore Anita felt satisfied that she had a real hold over him, should she need it. Carton now proposed that I should make a bargain with Anita GrĂŒnberg, or Nadina, as she now called herself. For a sufficient sum of money he thought that she would be willing to give up the diamonds and betray her former employer. He would cable to her immediately.
âI was still suspicious of Carton. He was a man whom it was easy enough to frighten, but who, in his fright, would tell so many lies that to sift the truth out from them would be no easy job. I went back to the hotel and waited. By the following evening I judged that he would have received the reply to his cable. I called round at his house and was told that Mr. Carton was away, but would be returning on the morrow. Instantly I became suspicious. In the nick of time I found out that he was in reality sailing for England on the Kilmorden Castle, which left Cape Town in two daysâ time. I had just time to journey down and catch the same boat.
âI had no intention of alarming Carton by revealing my presence on board. I had done a good deal of acting
Comments (0)