Detectives and Young Adventurers: The Complete Short Stories. Agatha Christie

will tell you, Mr Blunt. I may want the whole thing hushed up.’ Tommy retired gracefully from the position.

      ‘In that case,’ he murmured, ‘we know where we are. I see, Miss Hargreaves, that you are not disposed to tell me who it is you suspect?’

      ‘I suspect no one – but there are possibilities.’

      ‘Quite so. Now will you describe the household to me in detail?’

      ‘The servants, with the exception of the parlourmaid, are all old ones who have been with us many years. I must explain to you, Mr Blunt, that I was brought up by my aunt, Lady Radclyffe, who was extremely wealthy. Her husband made a big fortune, and was knighted. It was he who bought Thurnly Grange, but he died two years after going there, and it was then that Lady Radclyffe sent for me to come and make my home with her. I was her only living relation. The other inmate of the house was Dennis Radclyffe, her husband’s nephew. I have always called him cousin, but of course he is really nothing of the kind. Aunt Lucy always said openly that she intended to leave her money, with the exception of a small provision for me, to Dennis. It was Radclyffe money, she said, and it ought to go to a Radclyffe. However, when Dennis was twenty-two, she quarrelled violently with him – over some debts that he had run up, I think. When she died, a year later, I was astonished to find that she had made a will leaving all her money to me. It was, I know, a great blow to Dennis, and I felt very badly about it. I would have given him the money if he would have taken it, but it seems that kind of thing can’t be done. However, as soon as I was twenty-one, I made a will leaving it all to him. That’s the least I can do. So if I’m run over by a motor, Dennis will come into his own.’

      ‘Exactly,’ said Tommy. ‘And when were you twenty-one, if I may ask the question?’

      ‘Just three weeks ago.’

      ‘Ah!’ said Tommy. ‘Now will you give me fuller particulars of the members of your household at this minute?’

      ‘Servants – or – others?’

      ‘Both.’

      ‘The servants, as I say, have been with us some time. There is old Mrs Holloway, the cook, and her niece Rose, the kitchenmaid. Then there are two elderly housemaids, and Hannah who was my aunt’s maid and who has always been devoted to me. The parlourmaid is called Esther Quant, and seems a very nice quiet girl. As for ourselves, there is Miss Logan, who was Aunt Lucy’s companion, and who runs the house for me, and Captain Radclyffe – Dennis, you know, whom I told you about, and there is a girl called Mary Chilcott, an old school friend of mine who is staying with us.’

      Tommy thought for a moment.

      ‘That all seems fairly clear and straightforward, Miss Hargreaves,’ he said after a minute or two. ‘I take it that you have no special reason for attaching suspicion more to one person than another? You are only afraid it might prove to be – well – not a servant, shall we say?’

      ‘That’s it exactly, Mr Blunt. I have honestly no idea who used that piece of brown paper. The handwriting was printed.’

      ‘There seems only one thing to be done,’ said Tommy. ‘I must be on the spot.’

      The girl looked at him inquiringly.

      Tommy went on after a moment’s thought. ‘I suggest that you prepare the way for the arrival of – say, Mr and Miss Van Dusen – American friends of yours. Will you be able to do that quite naturally?’

      ‘Oh, yes. There will be no difficulty at all. When will you come down – tomorrow – or the day after?’

      ‘Tomorrow, if you please. There is no time to waste.’

      ‘That is settled then.’

      The girl rose and held out her hand.

      ‘One thing, Miss Hargreaves, not a word, mind, to anyone – anyone at all, that we are not what we seem.’

      ‘What do you think of it, Tuppence?’ he asked, when he returned from showing the visitor out.

      ‘I don’t like it,’ said Tuppence decidedly. ‘Especially I don’t like the chocolates having so little arsenic in them.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Don’t you see? All those chocolates being sent round the neighbour-hood were a blind. To establish the idea of a local maniac. Then, when the girl was really poisoned, it would be thought to be the same thing. You see, but for a stroke of luck, no one would ever have guessed that the chocolates were actually sent by someone in the house itself.’

      ‘That was a stroke of luck. You’re right. You think it’s a deliberate plot against the girl herself?’

      ‘I’m afraid so. I remember reading about old Lady Radclyffe’s will. That girl has come into a terrific lot of money.’

      ‘Yes, and she came of age and made a will three weeks ago. It looks bad – for Dennis Radclyffe. He gains by her death.’

      Tuppence nodded.

      ‘The worst of it is – that she thinks so too! That’s why she won’t have the police called in. Already she suspects him. And she must be more than half in love with him to act as she has done.’

      ‘In that case,’ said Tommy thoughtfully, ‘why the devil doesn’t he marry her? Much simpler and safer.’

      Tuppence stared at him.

      ‘You’ve said a mouthful,’ she observed. ‘Oh, boy! I’m getting ready to be Miss Van Dusen, you observe.’

      ‘Why rush to crime, when there is a lawful means near at hand?’

      Tuppence reflected for a minute or two.

      ‘I’ve got it,’ she announced. ‘Clearly he must have married a barmaid whilst at Oxford. Origin of the quarrel with his aunt. That explains everything.’

      ‘Then why not send the poisoned sweets to the barmaid?’ suggested Tommy. ‘Much more practical. I wish you wouldn’t jump to these wild conclusions, Tuppence.’

      ‘They’re deductions,’ said Tuppence, with a good deal of dignity. ‘This is your first corrida, my friend, but when you have been twenty minutes in the arena –’

      Tommy flung the office cushion at her.

      ‘Tuppence, I say, Tuppence, come here.’

      It was breakfast time the next morning. Tuppence hurried out of her bedroom and into the dining-room. Tommy was striding up and down, the open newspaper in his hand.

      ‘What’s the matter?’

      Tommy wheeled round, and shoved the paper into her hand, pointing to the headlines.

      MYSTERIOUS POISONING CASE

       DEATHS FROM FIG SANDWICHES

      Tuppence read on. This mysterious outbreak of ptomaine poisoning had occurred at Thurnly Grange. The deaths so far reported were those of Miss Lois Hargreaves, the owner of the house, and the parlourmaid, Esther Quant. A Captain Radclyffe and a Miss Logan were reported to be seriously ill. The cause of the outbreak was supposed to be some fig paste used in sandwiches, since another lady, a Miss Chilcott, who had not partaken of these was reported to be quite well.

      ‘We must get down there at once,’ said Tommy. ‘That girl! That perfectly ripping girl! Why the devil didn’t I go straight down there with her yesterday?’

      ‘If you had,’ said Tuppence, ‘you’d probably have eaten fig sandwiches too for tea, and then you’d have been dead. Come on, let’s start at once. I see it says that Dennis Radclyffe is seriously ill also.’

      ‘Probably shamming, the dirty blackguard.’

      They arrived at the small village of Thurnly about midday. An elderly woman with red eyes opened the door to them when they arrived at Thurnly Grange.

      ‘Look