The Man in the Brown Suit Agatha Christie (i read books .TXT) 📖

don’t see why it was necessary for her to walk out of the hotel in the middle of the night in order to get to Kimberley. There was no train, anyway. She must have put on a pair of angel’s wings and flown there. And I don’t suppose she will ever explain. Nobody does⁠—to me. I always have to guess. It becomes monotonous after a while. The exigencies of journalism are at the bottom of it, I suppose. “How I shot the rapids,” by our special correspondent.

I refolded the telegram and got rid of my governmental friend. I don’t like the prospect of being hungry, but I’m not alarmed for my personal safety. Smuts is perfectly capable of dealing with the revolution. But I would give a considerable sum of money for a drink! I wonder if Pagett will have the sense to bring a bottle of whisky with him when he arrives tomorrow?

I put on my hat and went out, intending to buy a few souvenirs. The curio shops in Jo’burg are rather pleasant. I was just studying a window full of imposing karosses, when a man coming out of the shop cannoned into me. To my surprise it turned out to be Race.

I can’t flatter myself that he looked pleased to see me. As a matter of fact, he looked distinctly annoyed, but I insisted on his accompanying me back to the hotel. I get tired of having no one but Miss Pettigrew to talk to.

“I had no idea you were in Jo’burg,” I said chattily. “When did you arrive?”

“Last night.”

“Where are you staying?”

“With friends.”

He was disposed to be extraordinarily taciturn, and seemed to be embarrassed by my questions.

“I hope they keep poultry,” I remarked. “A diet of new-laid eggs and the occasional slaughtering of an old cock will be decidedly agreeable soon from all I hear.

“By the way,” I said, when we were back in the hotel, “have you heard that Miss Beddingfeld is alive and kicking?”

He nodded.

“She gave us quite a fright,” I said airily. “Where the devil did she go to that night, that’s what I’d like to know.”

“She was on the island all the time.”

“Which island? Not the one with the young man on it?”

“Yes.”

“How very improper,” I said. “Pagett will be quite shocked. He always did disapprove of Anne Beddingfeld. I suppose that was the young man she originally intended to meet in Durban?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Don’t tell me anything you don’t want to,” I said, by way of encouraging him.

“I fancy that this is a young man we should all be very glad to lay our hands on.”

“Not⁠—?” I cried, in rising excitement.

He nodded.

“Harry Rayburn, alias Harry Lucas⁠—that’s his real name, you know. He’s given us all the slip once more, but we’re bound to rope him in soon.”

“Dear me, dear me,” I murmured.

“We don’t suspect the girl of complicity in any case. On her side it’s⁠—just a love affair.”

I always did think Race was in love with Anne. The way he said those last words made me feel sure of it.

“She’s gone to Beira,” he continued rather hastily.

“Indeed,” I said, staring. “How do you know?”

“She wrote to me from Bulawayo, telling me she was going home that way. The best thing she can do, poor child.”

“Somehow, I don’t fancy she is in Beira,” I said meditatively.

“She was just starting when she wrote.”

I was puzzled. Somebody was clearly lying. Without stopping to reflect that Anne might have excellent reasons for her misleading statements, I gave myself up to the pleasure of scoring off Race. He is always so cocksure. I took the telegram from my pocket and handed it to him.

“Then how do you explain this?” I asked nonchalantly.

He seemed dumbfounded.

“She said she was just starting for Beira,” he said, in a dazed voice.

I know that Race is supposed to be clever. He is, in my opinion, rather a stupid man. It never seemed to occur to him that girls do not always tell the truth.

“Kimberley too. What are they doing there?” he muttered.

“Yes, that surprised me. I should have thought Miss Anne would have been in the thick of it here, gathering copy for the Daily Budget.”

“Kimberley,” he said again. The place seemed to upset him. “There’s nothing to see there⁠—the pits aren’t being worked.”

“You know what women are,” I said vaguely.

He shook his head and went off. I have evidently given him something to think about.

No sooner had he departed than my government official reappeared.

“I hope you will forgive me for troubling you again, Sir Eustace,” he apologized. “But there are one or two questions I should like to ask you.”

“Certainly, my dear fellow,” I said cheerfully. “Ask away.”

“It concerns your secretary⁠—”

“I know nothing about him,” I said hastily. “He foisted himself upon me in London, robbed me of valuable papers⁠—for which I shall be hauled over the coals⁠—and disappeared like a conjuring trick at Cape Town. It’s true that I was at the falls at the same time as he was, but I was at the hotel, and he was on an island. I can assure you that I never set eyes upon him the whole time that I was there.”

I paused for breath.

“You misunderstand me. It was of your other secretary that I spoke.”

“What? Pagett?” I cried, in lively astonishment. “He’s been with me eight years⁠—a most trustworthy fellow.”

My interlocutor smiled.

“We are still at cross-purposes. I refer to the lady.”

“Miss Pettigrew?” I exclaimed.

“Yes. She has been seen coming out of Agrasato’s Native Curio-shop.”

“God bless my soul!” I interrupted. “I was going into that place myself this afternoon. You might have caught me coming out!”

There doesn’t seem to be any innocent thing that one can do in Jo’burg without being suspected for it.

“Ah! but she has been there more than once⁠—and in rather doubtful circumstances. I may as well tell you⁠—in confidence, Sir Eustace⁠—that the place is suspected of being a well-known rendezvous used by the secret organization behind this revolution. That is why I should be glad