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Agatha Christie
4:50 from Paddington
A Miss Marple Mystery
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
About the Author
Other Books by Agatha Christie
Credit
Copyright
About the Publisher
One
Mrs. McGillicuddy panted along the platform in the wake of the porter carrying
her suitcase. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Mrs. McGillicuddy was short and stout, the porter was tall and
free-striding. In addition, Mrs. McGillicuddy was burdened with a large
quantity of parcels; the result of a day’s Christmas shopping. The race was,
therefore, an uneven one, and the porter turned the corner at the end of the
platform whilst Mrs. McGillicuddy was still coming up the straight.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
No. 1 Platform was not at the moment unduly crowded, since a train had just
gone out, but in the no-man’s-land beyond, a milling crowd was rushing in
several directions at once, to and from undergrounds, left-luggage offices,
tea rooms, inquiry offices, indicator boards, and the two outlets, Arrival and
Departure, to the outside world.
Mrs. McGillicuddy and her parcels were buffeted to and fro, but she arrived
eventually at the entrance to No. 3 Platform, and deposited one parcel at her
feet whilst she searched her bag for the ticket that would enable her to pass
the stern uniformed guardian at the gate.
At that moment, a Voice, raucous yet refined, burst into speech over her head.
“The train standing at Platform 3,” the Voice told her, “is the 4:50 for
Brackhampton, Milchester, Waverton, Carvil Junction, Roxeter and stations to
Chadmouth. Passengers for Brackhampton and Milchester travel at the rear of
the train. Passengers for Vanequay change at Roxeter.” The Voice shut itself
off with a click, and then reopened conversation by announcing the arrival at
Platform 9 of the 4:35 from Birmingham and Wolverhampton.
Mrs. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
McGillicuddy found her ticket and presented it. The man clipped it,
murmured: “On the right—rear portion.”
Mrs. McGillicuddy padded up the platform and found her porter, looking bored
and staring into space, outside the door of a third-class carriage.
“Here you are, lady.”
“I’m travelling first-class,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy.
“You didn’t say so,” grumbled the porter. His eye swept her masculine-looking
pepper-and-salt tweed coat disparagingly.
Mrs. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
McGillicuddy, who had said so, did not argue the point. She was sadly out
of breath.
The porter retrieved the suitcase and marched with it to the adjoining coach
where Mrs. McGillicuddy was installed in solitary splendour. The 4:50 was not
much patronized, the first-class clientele preferring either the faster
morning express, or the 6:40 with dining car. Mrs. McGillicuddy handed the
porter his tip which he received with disappointment, clearly considering it
more applicable to third-class than to first-class travel. Mrs. McGillicuddy,
though prepared to spend money on comfortable travel after a night journey
from the North and a day’s feverish shopping, was at no time an extravagant
tipper.
She settled herself back on the plush cushions with a sigh and opened her
magazine. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Five minutes later, whistles blew, and the train started. The
magazine slipped from Mrs. McGillicuddy’s hand, her head dropped sideways,
three minutes later she was asleep. She slept for thirty-five minutes and
awoke refreshed. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Resettling her hat which had slipped askew she sat up and
looked out of the window at what she could see of the flying countryside. It
was quite dark now, a dreary misty December day—Christmas was only five days
ahead. London had been dark and dreary; the country was no less so, though
occasionally rendered cheerful with its constant clusters of lights as the
train flashed through towns and stations.
“Serving last tea now,” said an attendant, whisking open the corridor door
like a jinn. Mrs. McGillicuddy had already partaken of tea at a large
department store. She was for the moment amply nourished. The attendant went
on down the corridor uttering his monotonous cry. Mrs. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
McGillicuddy looked up
at the rack where her various parcels reposed, with a pleased expression. The
face towels had been excellent value and just what Margaret wanted, the space
gun for Robby and the rabbit for Jean were highly satisfactory, and that
evening coatee was just the thing she herself needed, warm but dressy. The
pullover for Hector, too…her mind dwelt with approval on the soundness of her
purchases.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Her satisfied gaze returned to the window, a train travelling in the opposite
direction rushed by with a screech, making the windows rattle and causing her
to start. The train clattered over points and passed through a station.
Then it began suddenly to slow down, presumably in obedience to a signal. For
some minutes it crawled along, then stopped, presently it began to move
forward again. Another up-train passed them, though with less vehemence than
the first one. The train gathered speed again. At that moment another train,
also on a down-line, swerved inwards towards them, for a moment with almost
alarming effect. For a time the two trains ran parallel, now one gaining a
little, now the other. Mrs. McGillicuddy looked from her window through the
windows of the parallel carriages. Most of the blinds were down, but
occasionally the occupants of the carriages were visible. The other train was
not very full and there were many empty carriages.
At the moment when the two trains gave the illusion of being stationary, a
blind in one of the carriages flew up with a snap. Mrs. McGillicuddy looked
into the lighted first-class carriage that was only a few feet away.
Then she drew her breath in with a gasp and half-rose to her feet.
Standing with his back to the window and to her was a man. His hands were
round the throat of a woman who faced him, and he was slowly, remorselessly,
strangling her. Her eyes were starting from their sockets, her face was purple
and congested. As Mrs. McGillicuddy watched fascinated, the end came; the body
went limp and crumpled in the man’s hands.
At the same moment, Mrs. McGillicuddy’s train slowed down again and the other
began to gain speed. It passed forward and a moment or two later it had
vanished from sight.
Almost automatically Mrs. McGillicuddy’s hand went up to the communication
cord, then paused, irresolute. After all, what use would it be ringing the
cord of the train in which she was travelling? The horror of what she had seen
at such close quarters, and the unusual circumstances, made her feel
paralysed. Some immediate action was necessary—but what?
The door of her compartment was drawn back and a ticket collector said,
“Ticket, please.”
Mrs. McGillicuddy turned to him with vehemence.
“A woman has been strangled,” she said. “In a train that has just passed. I
saw it.”
The ticket collector looked at her doubtfully.
“I beg your pardon, madam?”
“A man strangled a woman! In a train. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
I saw it—through there.” She pointed to
the window.
The ticket collector looked extremely doubtful.
“Strangled?” he said disbelievingly.
“Yes, strangled! I saw it, I tell you. You must do something at once!”
The ticket collector coughed apologetically.
“You don’t think, madam, that you may have had a little nap and—er—” he broke
off tactfully.
“I have had a nap, but if you think this was a dream, you’re quite wrong. I
saw it, I tell you.”
The ticket collector’s eyes dropped to the open magazine lying on the seat. On
the exposed page was a girl being strangled whilst a man with a revolver
threatened the pair from an open doorway.
He said persuasively: “Now don’t you think, madam, that you’d been reading an
exciting story, and that you just dropped off, and awaking a little confused—”
Mrs. McGillicuddy interrupted him.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
“I saw it,” she said. “I was as wide awake as you are. And I looked out of the
window into the window of the train alongside, and a man was strangling a
woman. And what I want to know is, what are you going to do about it?”
“Well—madam—”
“You’re going to do something, I suppose?”
The ticket collector sighed reluctantly and glanced at his watch.
“We shall be in Brackhampton in exactly seven minutes. I’ll report what you’ve
told me. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
In what direction was the train you mention going?”
“This direction, of course. You don’t suppose I’d have been able to see this
if a train had flashed past going in the other direction?”
The ticket collector looked as though he thought Mrs. McGillicuddy was quite
capable of seeing anything anywhere as the fancy took her. But he remained
polite.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
“You can rely on me, madam,” he said. “I will report your statement. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Perhaps I
might have your name and address—just in case….”
Mrs. McGillicuddy gave him the address where she would be staying for the next
few days and her permanent address in Scotland, and he wrote them down. Then
he withdrew with the air of a man who has done his duty and dealt successfully
with a tiresome member of the travelling public.
Mrs. McGillicuddy remained frowning and vaguely unsatisfied. Would the ticket
collector report her statement? Or had he just been soothing her down? There
were, she supposed vaguely, a lot of elderly women travelling around, fully
convinced that they had unmasked communist plots, were in danger of being
murdered, saw flying saucers and secret space ships, and reported murders that
had never taken place. If the man dismissed her as one of those….
The train was slowing down now, passing over points and running through the
bright lights of a large town.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Mrs. McGillicuddy opened her handbag, pulled out a receipted bill which was
all she could find, wrote a rapid note on the back of it with her ball-pen,
put it into a spare envelope that she fortunately happened to have, stuck the
envelope down and wrote on it.
The train drew slowly into a crowded platform. The usual ubiquitous Voice was
intoning:
“The train now arriving at Platform 1 is the 5:38 for Milchester, Waverton,
Roxeter, and stations to Chadmouth. Passengers for Market Basing take the
train now waiting at No. 3 platform. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
No. 1 bay for stopping train to Carbury.”
Mrs. McGillicuddy looked anxiously along the platform. So many passengers and
so few porters. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Ah, there was one! She hailed him authoritatively.
“Porter! Please take this at once to the Stationmaster’s office.”
She handed him the envelope, and with it a shilling.
Then, with a sigh, she leaned back. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Well, she had done what she could. Her
mind lingered with an instant’s regret on the shilling… Sixpence would really
have been enough….
Her mind went back to the scene she had witnessed. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Horrible, quite horrible…
She was a strong-nerved woman, but she shivered. What a strange—what a
fantastic thing to happen to her, Elspeth McGillicuddy! If the blind of the
carriage had not happened to fly up… But that, of course, was Providence.
Providence had willed that she, Elspeth McGillicuddy, should be a witness of
the crime. Her lips set grimly.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Voices shouted, whistles blew, doors were banged shut. The 5:38 drew slowly
out of Brackhampton station. An hour and five minutes later it stopped at
Milchester.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Mrs. McGillicuddy collected her parcels and her suitcase and got out. She
peered up and down the platform. Her mind reiterated its former judgment: Not
enough porters. Such porters as there were seemed to be engaged with mail bags
and luggage vans. Passengers nowadays seemed always expected to carry their
own cases. Well, she couldn’t carry her suitcase and her umbrella and all her
parcels. She would have to wait. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
In due course she secured a porter.
“Taxi?”
“There will be something to meet me, I expect.”
Outside Milchester station, a taxi-driver who had been watching the exit came
forward. He spoke in a soft local voice.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
“Is it Mrs. McGillicuddy? For St. Mary Mead?”
Mrs. McGillicuddy acknowledged her identity. The porter was recompensed,
adequately if not handsomely. The car, with Mrs. McGillicuddy, her suitcase,
and her parcels drove off into the night. It was a nine-mile drive. Sitting
bolt upright in the car, Mrs. McGillicuddy was unable to relax. Her feelings
yearned for expression. At last the taxi drove along the familiar village
street and finally drew up at its destination; Mrs. McGillicuddy got out and
walked up the brick path to the door. The driver deposited the cases inside as
the door was opened by an elderly maid. Mrs. McGillicuddy passed straight
through the hall to where, at the open sitting room door, her hostess awaited
her; an elderly frail old lady.
“Elspeth!”
“Jane!”
They kissed and, without preamble or circumlocution, Mrs. McGillicuddy burst
into speech.
“Oh, Jane!” she wailed. “I’ve just seen a murder!”
Two
True to the precepts handed down to her by her mother and grandmother—to wit:
that a true lady can neither be shocked nor surprised—Miss Marple merely
raised her eyebrows and shook her head, as she said:
“Most distressing for you, Elspeth, and surely most unusual. I think you had
better tell me about it at once.”
That was exactly what Mrs. McGillicuddy wanted to do. Allowing her hostess to
draw her nearer to the fire, she sat down, pulled off her gloves and plunged
into a vivid narrative.
Miss Marple listened with close attention. When Mrs. McGillicuddy at last
paused for breath, Miss Marple spoke with decision.
“The best thing, I think, my dear, is for you to go upstairs and take off your
hat and have a wash. Then we will have supper—during which we will not discuss
this at all. After supper we can go into the matter thoroughly and discuss it
from every aspect.”
Mrs. McGillicuddy concurred with this suggestion. The two ladies had supper,
discussing, as they ate, various aspects of life as lived in the village of
St. Mary Mead. Miss Marple commented on the general distrust of the new
organist, related the recent scandal about the chemist’s wife, and touched on
the hostility between the schoolmistress and the village institute. They then
discussed Miss Marple’s and Mrs. McGillicuddy’s gardens.
“Paeonies,” said Miss Marple as she rose from table, “are most unaccountable.
Either they do—or they don’t do. But if they do establish themselves, they are
with you for life, so to speak, and really most beautiful varieties nowadays.”
They settled themselves by the fire again, and Miss Marple brought out two old
Waterford glasses from a corner cupboard, and from another cupboard produced a
bottle.
“No coffee tonight for you, Elspeth,” she said. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
“You are already overexcited
(and no wonder!) and probably would not sleep. I prescribe a glass of my
cowslip wine, and later, perhaps, a cup of camo-mile tea.”
Mrs. McGillicuddy acquiescing in these arrangements, Miss Marple poured out
the wine.
“Jane,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy, as she took an appreciative sip, “you don’t
think, do you, that I dreamt it, or imagined it?”
“Certainly not,” said Miss Marple with warmth.
Mrs. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
McGillicuddy heaved a sigh of relief.
“That ticket collector,” she said, “he thought so. Quite polite, but all the
same—”
“I think, Elspeth, that that was quite natural under the circumstances. It
sounded—and indeed was—a most unlikely story. And you were a complete stranger
to him. No, I have no doubt at all that you saw what you’ve told me you saw.
It’s very extraordinary—but not at all impossible. I recollect myself being
interested when a train ran parallel to one on which I was travelling, to
notice what a vivid and intimate picture one got of what was going on in one
or two of the carriages. A little girl, I remember once, playing with a teddy
bear, and suddenly she threw it deliberately at a fat man who was asleep in
the corner and he bounced up and looked most indignant, and the other
passengers looked so amused. I saw them all quite vividly. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
I could have
described afterwards exactly what they looked like and what they had on.”
Mrs. McGillicuddy nodded gratefully.
“That’s just how it was.”
“The man had his back to you, you say. So you didn’t see his face?”
“No.”
“And the woman, you can describe her? Young, old?”
“Youngish. Between thirty and thirty-five, I should think. I couldn’t say
closer than that.”
“Good-looking?”
“That again, I couldn’t say. Her face, you see, was all contorted and—”
Miss Marple said quickly:
“Yes, yes, I quite understand. How was she dressed?”
“She had on a fur coat of some kind, a palish fur. No hat. Her hair was
blonde.”
“And there was nothing distinctive that you can remember about the man?”
Mrs. McGillicuddy took a little time to think carefully before she replied.
“He was tallish—and dark, I think. He had a heavy coat on so that I couldn’t
judge his build very well.” She added despondently, “It’s not really very much
to go on.”
“It’s something,” said Miss Marple. She paused before saying: “You feel quite
sure, in your own mind, that the girl was—dead?”
“She was dead, I’m sure of it. Her tongue came out and—I’d rather not talk
about it….”
“Of course not. Of course not,” said Miss Marple quickly. “We shall know more,
I expect, in the morning.”
“In the morning?”
“I should imagine it will be in the morning papers. After this man had
attacked and killed her, he would have a body on his hands. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
What would he do?
Presumably he would leave the train quickly at the first station—by the way,
can you remember if it was a corridor carriage?”
“No, it was not.”
“That seems to point to a train that was not going far afield. It would almost
certainly stop at Brackhampton. Let us say he leaves the train at
Brackhampton, perhaps arranging the body in a corner seat, with her face
hidden by the fur collar to delay discovery. Yes—I think that that is what he
would do. But of course it will be discovered before very long—and I should
imagine that the news of a murdered woman discovered on a train would be
almost certain to be in the morning papers—we shall see.”
II
But it was not in the morning papers.
Miss Marple and Mrs. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
McGillicuddy, after making sure of this, finished their
breakfast in silence. Both were reflecting.
After breakfast, they took a turn round the garden. But this, usually an
absorbing pastime, was today somewhat halfhearted. Miss Marple did indeed call
attention to some new and rare species she had acquired for her rock-garden
but did so in an almost absentminded manner. And Mrs. McGillicuddy did not, as
was customary, counter-attack with a list of her own recent acquisitions.
“The garden is not looking at all as it should,” said Miss Marple, but still
speaking absentmindedly. “Doctor Haydock has absolutely forbidden me to do any
stooping or kneeling—and really, what can you do if you don’t stoop or kneel?
There’s old Edwards, of course—but so opinionated. And all this jobbing gets
them into bad habits, lots of cups of tea and so much pottering—not any real
work.”
“Oh, I know,” said Mrs. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
McGillicuddy. “Of course, there’s no question of my
being forbidden to stoop, but really, especially after meals—and having put on
weight”—she looked down at her ample proportions—“it does bring on heartburn.”
There was a silence and then Mrs. McGillicuddy planted her feet sturdily,
stood still, and turned on her friend.
“Well?” she said.
It was a small insignificant word, but it acquired full significance from Mrs.
McGillicuddy’s tone, and Miss Marple understood its meaning perfectly.
“I know,” she said.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
The two ladies looked at each other.
“I think,” said Miss Marple, “we might walk down to the police station and
talk to Sergeant Cornish. He’s intelligent and patient, and I know him very
well, and he knows me. I think he’ll listen—and pass the information on to the
proper quarter.”
Accordingly, some three-quarters of an hour later, Miss Marple and Mrs.
McGillicuddy were talking to a fresh-faced grave man between thirty and forty
who listened attentively to what they had to say.
Frank Cornish received Miss Marple with cordiality and even deference. He set
chairs for the two ladies, and said: “Now what can we do for you, Miss
Marple?”
Miss Marple said: “I would like you, please, to listen to my friend Mrs.
McGillicuddy’s story.”
And Sergeant Cornish had listened. At the close of the recital he remained
silent for a moment or two.
Then he said:
“That’s a very extraordinary story.” His eyes, without seeming to do so, had
sized Mrs. McGillicuddy up whilst she was telling it.
On the whole, he was favourably impressed. A sensible woman, able to tell a
story clearly; not, so far as he could judge, an over-imaginative or a
hysterical woman. Moreover, Miss Marple, so it seemed, believed in the
accuracy of her friend’s story and he knew all about Miss Marple. Everybody in
St. Mary Mead knew Miss Marple; fluffy and dithery in appearance, but inwardly
as sharp and as shrewd as they make them.
He cleared his throat and spoke.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
“Of course,” he said, “you may have been mistaken—I’m not saying you were,
mind—but you may have been. There’s a lot of horse-play goes on—it mayn’t have
been serious or fatal.”
“I know what I saw,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy grimly.
“And you won’t budge from it,” thought Frank Cornish, “and I’d say that,
likely or unlikely, you may be right.”
Aloud he said: “You reported it to the railway officials, and you’ve come and
reported it to me. That’s the proper procedure and you may rely on me to have
inquiries instituted.”
He stopped. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Miss Marple nodded her head gently, satisfied. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Mrs. McGillicuddy
was not quite so satisfied, but she did not say anything. Sergeant Cornish
addressed Miss Marple, not so much because he wanted her ideas, as because he
wanted to hear what she would say.
“Granted the facts are as reported,” he said, “what do you think has happened
to the body?”
“There seems to be only two possibilities,” said Miss Marple without
hesitation. “The most likely one, of course, is that the body was left in the
train, but that seems improbable now, for it would have been found some time
last night, by another traveller, or by the railway staff at the train’s
ultimate destination.”
Frank Cornish nodded.
“The only other course open to the murderer would be to push the body out of
the train on to the line. It must, I suppose, be still on the track somewhere
as yet undiscovered—though that does seem a little unlikely. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
But there would
be, as far as I can see, no other way of dealing with it.”
“You read about bodies being put in trunks,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy, “but no-
one travels with trunks nowadays, only suitcases, and you couldn’t get a body
into a suitcase.”
“Yes,” said Cornish. “I agree with you both. The body, if there is a body,
ought to have been discovered by now, or will be very soon. I’ll let you know
any developments there are—though I dare say you’ll read about them in the
papers. There’s the possibility, of course, that the woman, though savagely
attacked, was not actually dead. She may have been able to leave the train on
her own feet.”
“Hardly without assistance,” said Miss Marple. “And if so, it will have been
noticed. A man, supporting a woman whom he says is ill.”
“Yes, it will have been noticed,” said Cornish. “Or if a woman was found
unconscious or ill in a carriage and was removed to hospital, that, too, will
be on record. I think you may rest assured that you’ll hear about it all in a
very short time.”
But that day passed and the next day. On that evening Miss Marple received a
note from Sergeant Cornish.
In regard to the matter on which you consulted me, full inquiries have been
made, with no result. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
No woman’s body has been found. No hospital has
administered treatment to a woman such as you describe, and no case of a woman
suffering from shock or taken ill, or leaving a station supported by a man has
been observed. You may take it that the fullest inquiries have been made. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
I
suggest that your friend may have witnessed a scene such as she described but
that it was much less serious than she supposed.
Three
“Less serious? Fiddlesticks!” said Mrs. McGillicuddy. “It was murder!”
She looked defiantly at Miss Marple and Miss Marple looked back at her.
“Go on, Jane,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy. “Say it was all a mistake! | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Say I
imagined the whole thing! That’s what you think now, isn’t it?”
“Anyone can be mistaken,” Miss Marple pointed out gently. “Anybody,
Elspeth—even you. I think we must bear that in mind. But I still think, you
know, that you were most probably not mistaken… You use glasses for reading,
but you’ve got very good far sight—and what you saw impressed you very
powerfully. You were definitely suffering from shock when you arrived here.”
“It’s a thing I shall never forget,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy with a shudder.
“The trouble is, I don’t see what I can do about it!”
“I don’t think,” said Miss Marple thoughtfully, “that there’s anything more
you can do about it.” (If Mrs. McGillicuddy had been alert to the tones of her
friend’s voice, she might have noticed a very faint stress laid on the you.)
“You’ve reported what you saw—to the railway people and to the police. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
No,
there’s nothing more you can do.”
“That’s a relief, in a way,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy, “because as you know, I’m
going out to Ceylon immediately after Christmas—to stay with Roderick, and I
certainly do not want to put that visit off— I’ve been looking forward to it
so much. Though of course I would put it off if I thought it was my duty,” she
added conscientiously.
“I’m sure you would, Elspeth, but as I say, I consider you’ve done everything
you possibly could do.”
“It’s up to the police,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy. “And if the police choose to
be stupid—”
Miss Marple shook her head decisively.
“Oh, no,” she said, “the police aren’t stupid. And that makes it interesting,
doesn’t it?”
Mrs. McGillicuddy looked at her without comprehension and Miss Marple
reaffirmed her judgment of her friend as a woman of excellent principles and
no imagination.
“One wants to know,” said Miss Marple, “what really happened.”
“She was killed.”
“Yes, but who killed her, and why, and what happened to her body? Where is it
now?”
“That’s the business of the police to find out.”
“Exactly—and they haven’t found out. That means, doesn’t it, that the man was
clever—very clever. I can’t imagine, you know,” said Miss Marple, knitting her
brows, “how he disposed of it… You kill a woman in a fit of passion—it must
have been unpremeditated, you’d never choose to kill a woman in such
circumstances just a few minutes before running into a big station. No, it
must have been a quarrel—jealousy—something of that kind. You strangle her—and
there you are, as I say, with a dead body on your hands and on the point of
running into a station. What could you do except as I said at first, prop the
body up in a corner as though asleep, hiding the face, and then yourself leave
the train as quickly as possible. I don’t see any other possibility—and yet
there must have been one….”
Miss Marple lost herself in thought.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Mrs. McGillicuddy spoke to her twice before Miss Marple answered.
“You’re getting deaf, Jane.”
“Just a little, perhaps. People do not seem to me to enunciate their words as
clearly as they used to do. But it wasn’t that I did not hear you. I’m afraid
I wasn’t paying attention.”
“I just asked about the trains to London tomorrow. Would the afternoon be all
right? I’m going to Margaret’s and she isn’t expecting me before teatime.”
“I wonder, Elspeth, if you would mind going up by the 12:15? We could have an
early lunch.”
“Of course and—” Miss Marple went on, drowning her friend’s words:
“And I wonder, too, if Margaret would mind if you didn’t arrive for tea—if you
arrived about seven, perhaps?”
Mrs. McGillicuddy looked at her friend curiously.
“What’s on your mind, Jane?”
“I suggest, Elspeth, that I should travel up to London with you, and that we
should travel down again as far as Brackhampton in the train you travelled by
the other day. You would then return to London from Brackhampton and I would
come on here as you did. I, of course, would pay the fares,” Miss Marple
stressed this point firmly.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Mrs. McGillicuddy ignored the financial aspect.
“What on earth do you expect, Jane?” she asked. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
“Another murder?”
“Certainly not,” said Miss Marple shocked. “But I confess I should like to see
for myself, under your guidance, the—the—really it is most difficult to find
the correct term—the terrain of the crime.”
So accordingly on the following day Miss Marple and Mrs. McGillicuddy found
themselves in two opposite corners of a first-class carriage speeding out of
London by the 4:50 from Paddington. Paddington had been even more crowded than
on the preceding Friday—as there were now only two days to go before
Christmas, but the 4:50 was comparatively peaceful—at any rate, in the rear
portion.
On this occasion no train drew level with them, or they with another train. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
At
intervals trains flashed past them towards London. On two occasions trains
flashed past them the other way going at high speed. At intervals Mrs.
McGillicuddy consulted her watch doubtfully.
“It’s hard to tell just when—we’d passed through a station I know…” But they
were continually passing through stations.
“We’re due in Brackhampton in five minutes,” said Miss Marple.
A ticket collector appeared in the doorway. Miss Marple raised her eyes
interrogatively. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Mrs. McGillicuddy shook her head. It was not the same ticket
collector. He clipped their tickets, and passed on staggering just a little as
the train swung round a long curve. It slackened speed as it did so.
“I expect we’re coming into Brackhampton,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
“We’re getting into the outskirts, I think,” said Miss Marple.
There were lights flashing past outside, buildings, an occasional glimpse of
streets and trams. Their speed slackened further. They began crossing points.
“We’ll be there in a minute,” said Mrs. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
McGillicuddy, “and I can’t really see
this journey has been any good at all. Has it suggested anything to you,
Jane?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Miss Marple in a rather doubtful voice.
“A sad waste of good money,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy, but with less disapproval
than she would have used had she been paying for herself. Miss Marple had been
quite adamant on that point.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
“All the same,” said Miss Marple, “one likes to see with one’s own eyes where
a thing happened. This train’s just a few minutes late. Was yours on time on
Friday?”
“I think so. I didn’t really notice.”
The train drew slowly into the busy length of Brackhampton station. The
loudspeaker announced hoarsely, doors opened and shut, people got in and out,
milled up and down the platform. It was a busy crowded scene.
Easy, thought Miss Marple, for a murderer to merge into that crowd, to leave
the station in the midst of that pressing mass of people, or even to select
another carriage and go on in the train wherever its ultimate destination
might be. Easy to be one male passenger amongst many. But not so easy to make
a body vanish into thin air. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
That body must be somewhere.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Mrs. McGillicuddy had descended. She spoke now from the platform, through the
open window.
“Now take care of yourself, Jane,” she said. “Don’t catch a chill. It’s a
nasty treacherous time of year, and you’re not so young as you were.”
“I know,” said Miss Marple.
“And don’t let’s worry ourselves anymore over all this. We’ve done what we
could.”
Miss Marple nodded, and said:
“Don’t stand about in the cold, Elspeth. Or you’ll be the one to catch a
chill. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Go and get yourself a good hot cup of tea in the Restaurant Room.
You’ve got time, twelve minutes before your train back to town.”
“I think perhaps I will. Good-bye, Jane.”
“Good-bye, Elspeth. A happy Christmas to you. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
I hope you find Margaret well.
Enjoy yourself in Ceylon, and give my love to dear Roderick—if he remembers me
at all, which I doubt.”
“Of course he remembers you—very well. You helped him in some way when he was
at school—something to do with money that was disappearing from a locker—he’s
never forgotten it.”
“Oh, that!” said Miss Marple.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Mrs. McGillicuddy turned away, a whistle blew, the train began to move. Miss
Marple watched the sturdy thickset body of her friend recede. Elspeth could go
to Ceylon with a clear conscience—she had done her duty and was freed from
further obligation.
Miss Marple did not lean back as the train gathered speed. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Instead she sat
upright and devoted herself seriously to thought. Though in speech Miss Marple
was woolly and diffuse, in mind she was clear and sharp. She had a problem to
solve, the problem of her own future conduct; and, perhaps strangely, it
presented itself to her as it had to Mrs. McGillicuddy, as a question of duty.
Mrs. McGillicuddy had said that they had both done all that they could do. It
was true of Mrs. McGillicuddy but about herself Miss Marple did not feel so
sure.
It was a question, sometimes, of using one’s special gifts… But perhaps that
was conceited… After all, what could she do? Her friend’s words came back to
her, “You’re not so young as you were….”
Dispassionately, like a general planning a campaign, or an accountant
assessing a business, Miss Marple weighed up and set down in her mind the
facts of and against further enterprise. On the credit side were the
following:
1\. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
My long experience of life and human nature.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
2\. Sir Henry Clithering and his godson (now at Scotland Yard, I believe), who
was so very nice in the Little Paddocks case.
3\. My nephew Raymond’s second boy, David, who is, I am almost sure, in
British Railways.
4\. Griselda’s boy Leonard who is so very knowledgeable about maps.
Miss Marple reviewed these assets and approved them. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
They were all very
necessary, to reinforce the weaknesses on the debit side—in particular her own
bodily weakness.
“It is not,” thought Miss Marple, “as though I could go here, there and
everywhere, making inquiries and finding out things.”
Yes, that was the chief objection, her own age and weakness. Although, for her
age, her health was good, yet she was old. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
And if Dr. Haydock had strictly
forbidden her to do practical gardening he would hardly approve of her
starting out to track down a murderer. For that, in effect, was what she was
planning to do—and it was there that her loophole lay. For if heretofore
murder had, so to speak, been forced upon her, in this case it would be that
she herself set out deliberately to seek it. And she was not sure that she
wanted to do so… She was old—old and tired. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
She felt at this moment, at the
end of a tiring day, a great reluctance to enter upon any project at all. She
wanted nothing at all but to march home and sit by the fire with a nice tray
of supper, and go to bed, and potter about the next day just snipping off a
few things in the garden, tidying up in a very mild way, without stooping,
without exerting herself….
“I’m too old for anymore adventures,” said Miss Marple to herself, watching
absently out of the window the curving line of an embankment….
A curve….
Very faintly something stirred in her mind… Just after the ticket collector
had clipped their tickets….
It suggested an idea. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Only an idea. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
An entirely different idea….
A little pink flush came into Miss Marple’s face. Suddenly she did not feel
tired at all!
“I’ll write to David tomorrow morning,” she said to herself.
And at the same time another valuable asset flashed through her mind.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
“Of course. My faithful Florence!”
II
Miss Marple set about her plan of campaign methodically and making due
allowance for the Christmas season which was a definitely retarding factor.
She wrote to her great-nephew, David West, combining Christmas wishes with an
urgent request for information.
Fortunately she was invited, as on previous years, to the vicarage for
Christmas dinner, and here she was able to tackle young Leonard, home for the
Christmas season, about maps.
Maps of all kinds were Leonard’s passion. The reason for the old lady’s
inquiry about a large-scale map of a particular area did not rouse his
curiosity. He discoursed on maps generally with fluency, and wrote down for
her exactly what would suit her purpose best. In fact, he did better. He
actually found that he had such a map amongst his collection and he lent it to
her, Miss Marple promising to take great care of it and return it in due
course.
III
“Maps,” said his mother, Griselda, who still, although she had a grown-up son,
looked strangely young and blooming to be inhabiting the shabby old vicarage.
“What does she want with maps? I mean, what does she want them for?”
“I don’t know,” said young Leonard, “I don’t think she said exactly.”
“I wonder now…” said Griselda. “It seems very fishy to me… At her age the old
pet ought to give up that sort of thing.”
Leonard asked what sort of thing, and Griselda said elusively:
“Oh, poking her nose into things. Why maps, I wonder?”
In due course Miss Marple received a letter from her great-nephew David West.
It ran affectionately:
Dear Aunt Jane,— Now what are you up to? | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
I’ve got the information you wanted.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
There are only two trains that can possibly apply—the 4:33 and the 5 o’clock.
The former is a slow train and stops at Haling Broadway, Barwell Heath,
Brackhampton and then stations to Market Basing. The 5 o’clock is the Welsh
express for Cardiff, Newport and Swansea. The former might be overtaken
somewhere by the 4:50, although it is due in Brackhampton five minutes earlier
and the latter passes the 4:50 just before Brackhampton.
In all this do I smell some village scandal of a fruity character? Did you,
returning from a shopping spree in town by the 4:50, observe in a passing
train the mayor’s wife being embraced by the Sanitary Inspector? But why does
it matter which train it was? A weekend at Porthcawl perhaps? | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Thank you for
the pullover. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Just what I wanted. How’s the garden? Not very active this time
of year, I should imagine.
Yours ever,
David
Miss Marple smiled a little, then considered the information thus presented to
her. Mrs. McGillicuddy had said definitely that the carriage had not been a
corridor one. Therefore—not the Swansea express. The 4:33 was indicated.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Also some more travelling seemed unavoidable. Miss Marple sighed, but made her
plans.
She went up to London as before on the 12:15, but this time returned not by
the 4:50, but by the 4:33 as far as Brackhampton. The journey was uneventful,
but she registered certain details. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
The train was not crowded—4:33 was before
the evening rush hour. Of the first-class carriages only one had an occupant—a
very old gentleman reading the New Statesman. Miss Marple travelled in an
empty compartment and at the two stops, Haling Broadway and Barwell Heath,
leaned out of the window to observe passengers entering and leaving the train.
A small number of third-class passengers got in at Haling Broadway. At Barwell
Heath several third-class passengers got out. Nobody entered or left a first-
class carriage except the old gentleman carrying his New Statesman.
As the train neared Brackhampton, sweeping around a curve of line, Miss Marple
rose to her feet and stood experimentally with her back to the window over
which she had drawn down the blind.
Yes, she decided, the impetus of the sudden curving of the line and the
slackening of speed did throw one off one’s balance back against the window
and the blind might, in consequence, very easily fly up. She peered out into
the night. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
It was lighter than it had been when Mrs. McGillicuddy had made the
same journey—only just dark, but there was little to see. For observation she
must make a daylight journey.
On the next day she went up by the early morning train, purchased four linen
pillow-cases (tut-tutting at the price!) so as to combine investigation with
the provision of household necessities, and returned by a train leaving
Paddington at twelve fifteen. Again she was alone in a first-class carriage.
“This taxation,” thought Miss Marple, “that’s what it is. No one can afford to
travel first class except business men in the rush hours. I suppose because
they can charge it to expenses.”
About a quarter of an hour before the train was due at Brackhampton, Miss
Marple got out the map with which Leonard had supplied her and began to
observe the country-side. She had studied the map very carefully beforehand,
and after noting the name of a station they passed through, she was soon able
to identify where she was just as the train began to slacken for a curve. It
was a very considerable curve indeed. Miss Marple, her nose glued to the
window, studied the ground beneath her (the train was running on a fairly high
embankment) with close attention. She divided her attention between the
country outside and the map until the train finally ran into Brackhampton.
That night she wrote and posted a letter addressed to Miss Florence Hill, 4
Madison Road, Brackhampton… On the following morning, going to the County
library, she studied a Brackhampton directory and gazetteer, and a County
history.
Nothing so far had contradicted the very faint and sketchy idea that had come
to her. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
What she had imagined was possible. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
She would go no further than that.
But the next step involved action—a good deal of action—the kind of action for
which she, herself, was physically unfit. If her theory were to be definitely
proved or disproved, she must at this point have help from some other source.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
The question was—who? Miss Marple reviewed various names and possibilities
rejecting them all with a vexed shake of the head. The intelligent people on
whose intelligence she could rely were all far too busy. Not only had they all
got jobs of varying importance, their leisure hours were usually apportioned
long beforehand. The unintelligent who had time on their hands were simply,
Miss Marple decided, no good.
She pondered in growing vexation and perplexity.
Then suddenly her forehead cleared. She ejaculated aloud a name.
“Of course!” said Miss Marple. “Lucy Eyelesbarrow!”
Four
The name of Lucy Eyelesbarrow had already made itself felt in certain circles.
Lucy Eyelesbarrow was thirty-two. She had taken a First in Mathematics at
Oxford, was acknowledged to have a brilliant mind and was confidently expected
to take up a distinguished academic career.
But Lucy Eyelesbarrow, in addition to scholarly brilliance, had a core of good
sound common sense. She could not fail to observe that a life of academic
distinction was singularly ill rewarded. She had no desire whatever to teach
and she took pleasure in contacts with minds much less brilliant than her own.
In short, she had a taste for people, all sorts of people—and not the same
people the whole time. She also, quite frankly, liked money. To gain money one
must exploit shortage.
Lucy Eyelesbarrow hit at once upon a very serious shortage—the shortage of any
kind of skilled domestic labour. To the amazement of her friends and fellow-
scholars, Lucy Eyelesbarrow entered the field of domestic labour.
Her success was immediate and assured. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
By now, after a lapse of some years,
she was known all over the British Isles. It was quite customary for wives to
say joyfully to husbands, “It will be all right. I can go with you to the
States. I’ve got Lucy Eyelesbarrow!” The point of Lucy Eyelesbarrow was that
once she came into a house, all worry, anxiety and hard work went out of it.
Lucy Eyelesbarrow did everything, saw to everything, arranged everything. She
was unbelievably competent in every conceivable sphere. She looked after
elderly parents, accepted the care of young children, nursed the sickly,
cooked divinely, got on well with any old crusted servants there might happen
to be (there usually weren’t), was tactful with impossible people, soothed
habitual drunkards, was wonderful with dogs. Best of all she never minded what
she did. She scrubbed the kitchen floor, dug in the garden, cleaned up dog
messes, and carried coals!
One of her rules was never to accept an engagement for any long length of
time. A fortnight was her usual period—a month at most under exceptional
circumstances. For that fortnight you had to pay the earth! But, during that
fortnight, your life was heaven. You could relax completely, go abroad, stay
at home, do as you pleased, secure that all was going well on the home front
in Lucy Eyelesbarrow’s capable hands.
Naturally the demand for her services was enormous. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
She could have booked
herself up if she chose for about three years ahead. She had been offered
enormous sums to go as a permanency. But Lucy had no intention of being a
permanency, nor would she book herself for more than six months ahead. And
within that period, unknown to her clamouring clients, she always kept certain
free periods which enabled her either to take a short luxurious holiday (since
she spent nothing otherwise and was handsomely paid and kept) or to accept any
position at short notice that happened to take her fancy, either by reason of
its character, or because she “liked the people.” Since she was now at liberty
to pick and choose amongst the vociferous claimants for her services, she went
very largely by personal liking. Mere riches would not buy you the services of
Lucy Eyelesbarrow. She could pick and choose and she did pick and choose. She
enjoyed her life very much and found in it a continual source of
entertainment.
Lucy Eyelesbarrow read and reread the letter from Miss Marple. She had made
Miss Marple’s acquaintance two years ago when her services had been retained
by Raymond West, the novelist, to go and look after his old aunt who was
recovering from pneumonia. Lucy had accepted the job and had gone down to St.
Mary Mead. She had liked Miss Marple very much. As for Miss Marple, once she
had caught a glimpse out of her bedroom window of Lucy Eyelesbarrow really
trenching for sweet peas in the proper way, she had leaned back on her pillows
with a sigh of relief, eaten the tempting little meals that Lucy Eyelesbarrow
brought to her, and listened, agreeably surprised, to the tales told by her
elderly irascible maidservant of how “I taught that Miss Eyelesbarrow a
crochet pattern what she’d never heard of! Proper grateful, she was.” And had
surprised her doctor by the rapidity of her convalescence.
Miss Marple wrote asking if Miss Eyelesbarrow could undertake a certain task
for her—rather an unusual one. Perhaps Miss Eyelesbarrow could arrange a
meeting at which they could discuss the matter.
Lucy Eyelesbarrow frowned for a moment or two as she considered. She was in
reality fully booked up. But the word unusual, and her recollection of Miss
Marple’s personality, carried the day and she rang up Miss Marple straight
away explaining that she could not come down to St. Mary Mead as she was at
the moment working, but that she was free from 2 to 4 on the following
afternoon and could meet Miss Marple anywhere in London. She suggested her own
club, a rather nondescript establishment which had the advantage of having
several small dark writing rooms which were usually empty.
Miss Marple accepted the suggestion and on the following day the meeting took
place.
Greetings were exchanged; Lucy Eyelesbarrow led her guest to the gloomiest of
the writing rooms, and said: “I’m afraid I’m rather booked up just at present,
but perhaps you’ll tell me what it is you want me to undertake?”
“It’s very simple, really,” said Miss Marple. “Unusual, but simple. I want you
to find a body.”
For a moment the suspicion crossed Lucy’s mind that Miss Marple was mentally
unhinged, but she rejected the idea. Miss Marple was eminently sane. She meant
exactly what she had said.
“What kind of a body?” asked Lucy Eyelesbarrow with admirable composure.
“A woman’s body,” said Miss Marple. “The body of a woman who was
murdered—strangled actually—in a train.”
Lucy’s eyebrows rose slightly.
“Well, that’s certainly unusual. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Tell me about it.”
Miss Marple told her. Lucy Eyelesbarrow listened attentively, without
interrupting. At the end she said:
“It all depends on what your friend saw—or thought she saw—?”
She left the sentence unfinished with a question in it.
“Elspeth McGillicuddy doesn’t imagine things,” said Miss Marple. “That’s why
I’m relying on what she said. If it had been Dorothy Cartwright, now—it would
have been quite a different matter. Dorothy always has a good story, and quite
often believes it herself, and there is usually a kind of basis of truth but
certainly no more. But Elspeth is the kind of woman who finds it very hard to
make herself believe that anything at all extraordinary or out of the way
could happen. She’s almost unsuggestible, rather like granite.”
“I see,” said Lucy thoughtfully. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
“Well, let’s accept it all. Where do I come
in?”
“I was very much impressed by you,” said Miss Marple, “and you see, I haven’t
got the physical strength nowadays to get about and do things.”
“You want me to make inquiries? That sort of thing? But won’t the police have
done all that? Or do you think they have been just slack?”
“Oh, no,” said Miss Marple. “They haven’t been slack. It’s just that I’ve got
a theory about the woman’s body. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
It’s got to be somewhere. If it wasn’t found
in the train, then it must have been pushed or thrown out of the train—but it
hasn’t been discovered anywhere on the line. So I travelled down the same way
to see if there was anywhere where the body could have been thrown off the
train and yet wouldn’t have been found on the line—and there was. The railway
line makes a big curve before getting into Brackhampton, on the edge of a high
embankment. If a body were thrown out there, when the train was leaning at an
angle, I think it would pitch right down the embankment.”
“But surely it would still be found—even there?”
“Oh, yes. It would have to be taken away… But we’ll come to that presently.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Here’s the place—on this map?”
Lucy bent to study where Miss Marple’s finger pointed.
“It is right in the outskirts of Brackhampton now,” said Miss Marple, “but
originally it was a country house with extensive park and grounds and it’s
still there, untouched—ringed round with building estates and small suburban
houses. It’s called Rutherford Hall. It was built by a man called
Crackenthorpe, a very rich manufacturer, in 1884. The original Crackenthorpe’s
son, an elderly man, is living there still with, I understand, a daughter. The
railway encircles quite half of the property.”
“And you want me to do—what?”
Miss Marple replied promptly.
“I want you to get a post there. Everyone is crying out for efficient domestic
help— I should not imagine it would be difficult.”
“No, I don’t suppose it would be difficult.”
“I understand that Mr. Crackenthorpe is said locally to be somewhat of a
miser. If you accept a low salary, I will make it up to the proper figure
which should, I think, be rather more than the current rate.”
“Because of the difficulty?”
“Not the difficulty so much as the danger. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
It might, you know, be dangerous.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
It’s only right to warn you of that.”
“I don’t know,” said Lucy pensively, “that the idea of danger would deter me.”
“I didn’t think it would,” said Miss Marple. “You’re not that kind of person.”
“I dare say you thought it might even attract me? I’ve encountered very little
danger in my life. But do you really believe it might be dangerous?”
“Somebody,” Miss Marple pointed out, “has committed a very successful crime.
There has been no hue-and-cry, no real suspicion. Two elderly ladies have told
a rather improbable story, the police have investigated it and found nothing
in it. So everything is nice and quiet. I don’t think that this somebody,
whoever he may be, will care about the matter being raked up—especially if you
are successful.”
“What do I look for exactly?”
“Any signs along the embankment, a scrap of clothing, broken bushes—that kind
of thing.”
Lucy nodded.
“And then?”
“I shall be quite close at hand,” said Miss Marple. “An old maidservant of
mine, my faithful Florence, lives in Brackhampton. She has looked after her
old parents for years. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
They are now both dead, and she takes in lodgers—all
most respectable people. She has arranged for me to have rooms with her. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
She
will look after me most devotedly, and I feel I should like to be close at
hand. I would suggest that you mention you have an elderly aunt living in the
neighbourhood, and that you want a post within easy distance of her, and also
that you stipulate for a reasonable amount of spare time so that you can go
and see her often.”
Again Lucy nodded.
“I was going to Taormina the day after tomorrow,” she said. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
“The holiday can
wait. But I can only promise three weeks. After that, I am booked up.”
“Three weeks should be ample,” said Miss Marple. “If we can’t find out
anything in three weeks, we might as well give up the whole thing as a mare’s
nest.”
Miss Marple departed, and Lucy, after a moment’s reflection, rang up a
Registry Office in Brackhampton, the manageress of which she knew very well.
She explained her desire for a post in the neighbourhood so as to be near her
“aunt.” After turning down, with a little difficulty and a good deal of
ingenuity, several more desirable places, Rutherford Hall was mentioned.
“That sounds exactly what I want,” said Lucy firmly.
The Registry Office rang up Miss Crackenthorpe, Miss Crackenthorpe rang up
Lucy.
Two days later Lucy left London en route for Rutherford Hall.
II
Driving her own small car, Lucy Eyelesbarrow drove through an imposing pair of
vast iron gates. Just inside them was what had originally been a small lodge
which now seemed completely derelict, whether through war damage, or merely
through neglect, it was difficult to be sure. A long winding drive led through
large gloomy clumps of rhododendrons up to the house. Lucy caught her breath
in a slight gasp when she saw the house which was a kind of miniature Windsor
Castle. The stone steps in front of the door could have done with attention
and the gravel sweep was green with neglected weeds.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
She pulled an old-fashioned wrought-iron bell, and its clamour sounded echoing
away inside. A slatternly woman, wiping her hands on her apron, opened the
door and looked at her suspiciously.
“Expected, aren’t you?” she said. “Miss Somethingbarrow, she told me.”
“Quite right,” said Lucy.
The house was desperately cold inside. Her guide led her along a dark hall and
opened a door on the right. Rather to Lucy’s surprise, it was quite a pleasant
sitting room, with books and chintz-covered chairs.
“I’ll tell her,” said the woman, and went away shutting the door after having
given Lucy a look of profound disfavour.
After a few minutes the door opened again. From the first moment Lucy decided
that she liked Emma Crackenthorpe.
She was a middle-aged woman with no very outstanding characteristics, neither
good-looking nor plain, sensibly dressed in tweeds and pullover, with dark
hair swept back from her forehead, steady hazel eyes and a very pleasant
voice.
She said: “Miss Eyelesbarrow?” and held out her hand.
Then she looked doubtful.
“I wonder,” she said, “if this post is really what you’re looking for? I don’t
want a housekeeper, you know, to supervise things. I want someone to do the
work.”
Lucy said that that was what most people needed.
Emma Crackenthorpe said apologetically:
“So many people, you know, seem to think that just a little light dusting will
answer the case—but I can do all the light dusting myself.”
“I quite understand,” said Lucy. “You want cooking and washing-up, and
housework and stoking the boiler. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
That’s all right. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
That’s what I do. I’m not
at all afraid of work.”
“It’s a big house, I’m afraid, and inconvenient. Of course we only live in a
portion of it—my father and myself, that is. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
He is rather an invalid. We live
quite quietly, and there is an Aga stove. I have several brothers, but they
are not here very often. Two women come in, a Mrs. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Kidder in the morning, and
Mrs. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Hart three days a week to do brasses and things like that. You have your
own car?”
“Yes. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
It can stand out in the open if there’s nowhere to put it. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
It’s used to
it.”
“Oh, there are any amount of old stables. There’s no trouble about that.” She
frowned a moment, then said, “Eyelesbarrow—rather an unusual name. Some
friends of mine were telling me about a Lucy Eyelesbarrow—the Kennedys?”
“Yes. I was with them in North Devon when Mrs. Kennedy was having a baby.”
Emma Crackenthorpe smiled.
“I know they said they’d never had such a wonderful time as when you were
there seeing to everything. But I had the idea that you were terribly
expensive. The sum I mentioned—”
“That’s quite all right,” said Lucy. “I want particularly, you see, to be near
Brackhampton. I have an elderly aunt in a critical state of health and I want
to be within easy distance of her. That’s why the salary is a secondary
consideration. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
I can’t afford to do nothing. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
If I could be sure of having some
time off most days?”
“Oh, of course. Every afternoon, till six, if you like?”
“That seems perfect.”
Miss Crackenthorpe hesitated a moment before saying: “My father is elderly and
a little—difficult sometimes. He is very keen on economy, and he says things
sometimes that upset people. I wouldn’t like—”
Lucy broke in quickly:
“I’m quite used to elderly people, of all kinds,” she said. “I always manage
to get on well with them.” Emma Crackenthorpe looked relieved.
“Trouble with father!” diagnosed Lucy. “I bet he’s an old tartar.”
She was apportioned a large gloomy bedroom which a small electric heater did
its inadequate best to warm, and was shown round the house, a vast
uncomfortable mansion. As they passed a door in the hall a voice roared out:
“That you, Emma? Got the new girl there? Bring her in. I want to look at her.”
Emma flushed, glanced at Lucy apologetically.
The two women entered the room. It was richly upholstered in dark velvet, the
narrow windows let in very little light, and it was full of heavy mahogany
Victorian furniture.
Old Mr. Crackenthorpe was stretched out in an invalid chair, a silver-headed
stick by his side.
He was a big gaunt man, his flesh hanging in loose folds. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
He had a face rather
like a bulldog, with a pugnacious chin. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
He had thick dark hair flecked with
grey, and small suspicious eyes.
“Let’s have a look at you, young lady.”
Lucy advanced, composed and smiling.
“There’s just one thing you’d better understand straight away. Just because we
live in a big house doesn’t mean we’re rich. We’re not rich. We live simply—do
you hear?—simply! | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
No good coming here with a lot of high-falutin ideas. Cod’s
as good a fish as turbot any day, and don’t you forget it. I don’t stand for
waste. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
I live here because my father built the house and I like it. After I’m
dead they can sell it up if they want to—and I expect they will want to. No
sense of family. This house is well built—it’s solid, and we’ve got our own
land around us. Keeps us private. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
It would bring in a lot if sold for building
land but not while I’m alive. You won’t get me out of here until you take me
out feet first.”
He glared at Lucy.
“Your home is your castle,” said Lucy.
| 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
“Laughing at me?”
“Of course not. I think it’s very exciting to have a real country place all
surrounded by town.”
“Quite so. Can’t see another house from here, can you? Fields with cows in
them—right in the middle of Brackhampton. You hear the traffic a bit when the
wind’s that way—but otherwise it’s still country.”
He added, without pause or change of tone, to his daughter:
“Ring up that damn’ fool of a doctor. Tell him that last medicine’s no good at
all.”
Lucy and Emma retired. He shouted after them:
“And don’t let that damned woman who sniffs dust in here. She’s disarranged
all my books.”
Lucy asked:
“Has Mr. Crackenthorpe been an invalid long?”
Emma said, rather evasively:
“Oh, for years now… This is the kitchen.”
The kitchen was enormous. A vast kitchen range stood cold and neglected. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
An
Aga stood demurely beside it.
Lucy asked times of meals and inspected the larder. Then she said cheerfully
to Emma Crackenthorpe:
“I know everything now. Don’t bother. Leave it all to me.”
Emma Crackenthorpe heaved a sigh of relief as she went up to bed that night.
“The Kennedys were quite right,” she said. “She’s wonderful.”
Lucy rose at six the next morning. She did the house, prepared vegetables,
assembled, cooked and served breakfast. With Mrs. Kidder she made the beds and
at eleven o’clock they sat down to strong tea and biscuits in the kitchen.
Mollified by the fact that Lucy “had no airs about her,” and also by the
strength and sweetness of the tea, Mrs. Kidder relaxed into gossip. She was a
small spare woman with a sharp eye and tight lips.
“Regular old skinflint he is. What she has to put up with! All the same, she’s
not what I call down-trodden. Can hold her own all right when she has to. When
the gentlemen come down she sees to it there’s something decent to eat.”
“The gentlemen?”
“Yes. Big family it was. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
The eldest, Mr. Edmund, he was killed in the war.
Then there’s Mr. Cedric, he lives abroad somewhere. He’s not married. Paints
pictures in foreign parts. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
Mr. Harold’s in the City, lives in London—married
an earl’s daughter. Then there’s Mr. Alfred, he’s got a nice way with him, but
he’s a bit of a black-sheep, been in trouble once or twice—and there’s Miss
Edith’s husband, Mr. Bryan, ever so nice, he is—she died some years ago, but
he’s always stayed one of the family, and there’s Master Alexander, Miss
Edith’s little boy. He’s at school, comes here for part of the holidays
always; Miss Emma’s terribly set on him.”
Lucy digested all this information, continuing to press tea on her informant.
Finally, reluctantly, Mrs. | 4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub |
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Dataset Card for AgathaChristieText
There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune,
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat,
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.
Dataset Summary
The agatha_christie dataset contains the complete works of Agatha Christie, including the novels, short stories, and plays. The dataset is in English and contains 110 works in total. The dataset is intended for text generation tasks, such as language modeling, and can be used to train models to generate text in the style of Agatha Christie.
Supported Tasks and Leaderboards
The dataset can be used for text generation tasks, such as language modeling. The dataset can be used to train models to generate text in the style of Agatha Christie.
Languages
The text in the dataset is in English.
Dataset Structure
Dataset instances
The following is an example sample from the dataset.
{"text":"Mrs. McGillicuddy was short and stout, the porter was tall and free-striding. In addition, Mrs. McGillicuddy was burdened with a large quantity of parcels; the result of a day’s Christmas shopping. The race was, therefore, an uneven one, and the porter turned the corner at the end of the platform whilst Mrs. McGillicuddy was still coming up the straight.", "source": "4-50 from paddington - agatha christie.epub" }
Data Fields
- text: The text of the work chunked into semantic segments by llamaindex SemanticNodeParser.
- source: The source material of the text.
Splits
The dataset is split into tain, test and validation splits.
- train.parquet
- test.parquet
- validation.parquet
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