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

      ‘The oil’s all right. You get Ricin from the seeds of the castor oil plant. I believe I saw some castor oil plants in the garden this morning – big things with glossy leaves.’

      ‘You mean that someone extracted the stuff on the premises. Could Hannah do such a thing?’

      Tuppence shook her head.

      ‘Doesn’t seem likely. She wouldn’t know enough.’

      Suddenly Tommy gave an exclamation.

      ‘That book. Have I got it in my pocket still? Yes.’ He took it out, and turned over the leaves vehemently. ‘I thought so. Here’s the page it was open at this morning. Do you see, Tuppence? Ricin!’

      Tuppence seized the book from him.

      ‘Can you make head or tail of it? I can’t.’

      ‘It’s clear enough to me,’ said Tuppence. She walked along, reading busily, with one hand on Tommy’s arm to steer herself. Presently she shut the book with a bang. They were just approaching the house again.

      ‘Tommy, will you leave this to me? Just for once, you see, I am the bull that has been more than twenty minutes in the arena.’

      Tommy nodded.

      ‘You shall be the Captain of the Ship, Tuppence,’ he said gravely. ‘We’ve got to get to the bottom of this.’

      ‘First of all,’ said Tuppence as they entered the house, ‘I must ask Miss Logan one more question.’

      She ran upstairs. Tommy followed her. She rapped sharply on the old lady’s door and went in.

      ‘Is that you, my dear?’ said Miss Logan. ‘You know you are much too young and pretty to be a detective. Have you found out anything?’

      ‘Yes,’ said Tuppence. ‘I have.’

      Miss Logan looked at her questioningly. ‘I don’t know about being pretty,’ went on Tuppence, ‘but being young, I happened to work in a hospital during the War. I know something about serum therapeutics. I happen to know that when Ricin is injected in small doses hypodermically, immunity is produced, antiricin is formed. That fact paved the way for the foundation of serum therapeutics. You knew that, Miss Logan. You injected Ricin for some time hypodermically into yourself. Then you let yourself be poisoned with the rest. You helped your father in his work, and you knew all about Ricin and how to obtain it and extract it from the seeds. You chose a day when Dennis Radclyffe was out for tea. It wouldn’t do for him to be poisoned at the same time – he might die before Lois Hargreaves. So long as she died first, he inherited her money, and at his death it passes to you, his next-of-kin. You remember, you told us this morning that his father was your first cousin.’

      The old lady stared at Tuppence with baleful eyes.

      Suddenly a wild figure burst in from the adjoining room. It was Hannah. In her hand she held a lighted torch which she waved frantic ally.

      ‘Truth has been spoken. That is the wicked one. I saw her reading the book and smiling to herself and I knew. I found the book and the page – but it said nothing to me. But the voice of the Lord spoke to me. She hated my mistress, her ladyship. She was always jealous and envious. She hated my own sweet Miss Lois. But the wicked shall perish, the fire of the Lord shall consume them.’

      Waving her torch she sprang forward to the bed.

      A cry arose from the old lady.

      ‘Take her away – take her away. It’s true – but take her away.’

      Tuppence flung herself upon Hannah, but the woman managed to set fire to the curtains of the bed before Tuppence could get the torch from her and stamp on it. Tommy, however, had rushed in from the landing outside. He tore down the bed hangings and managed to stifle the flames with a rug. Then he rushed to Tuppence’s assistance, and between them they subdued Hannah just as Dr Burton came hurrying in.

      A very few words sufficed to put him au courant of the situation.

      He hurried to the bedside, lifted Miss Logan’s hand, then uttered a sharp exclamation.

      ‘The shock of fire has been too much for her. She’s dead. Perhaps it is as well under the circumstances.’

      He paused, and then added, ‘There was Ricin in the cocktail glass as well.’

      ‘It’s the best thing that could have happened,’ said Tommy, when they had relinquished Hannah to the doctor’s care, and were alone together. ‘Tuppence, you were simply marvellous.’

      ‘There wasn’t much Hanaud about it,’ said Tuppence.

      ‘It was too serious for play-acting. I still can’t bear to think of that girl. I won’t think of her. But, as I said before, you were marvellous. The honours are with you. To use a familiar quotation, “It is a great advantage to be intelligent and not to look it.”’

      ‘Tommy,’ said Tuppence, ‘you’re a beast.’

      Chapter 11

       The Unbreakable Alibi

      ‘The Unbreakable Alibi’ was originally the last Tommy and Tuppence story, appearing in Holly Leaves (published by Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News), 1 December 1928. Inspector French was created by Freeman Wills Croft (1879–1957).

      Tommy and Tuppence were busy sorting correspondence. Tuppence gave an exclamation and handed a letter across to Tommy.

      ‘A new client,’ she said importantly.

      ‘Ha!’ said Tommy. ‘What do we deduce from this letter, Watson? Nothing much, except the somewhat obvious fact that Mr – er – Montgomery Jones is not one of the world’s best spellers, thereby proving that he has been expensively educated.’

      ‘Montgomery Jones?’ said Tuppence. ‘Now what do I know about a Montgomery Jones? Oh, yes, I have got it now. I think Janet St Vincent mentioned him. His mother was Lady Aileen Montgomery, very crusty and high church, with gold crosses and things, and she married a man called Jones who is immensely rich.’

      ‘In fact the same old story,’ said Tommy. ‘Let me see, what time does this Mr M. J. wish to see us? Ah, eleven-thirty.’

      At eleven-thirty precisely, a very tall young man with an amiable and ingenuous countenance entered the outer office and addressed himself to Albert, the office boy.

      ‘Look here – I say. Can I see Mr – er – Blunt?’

      ‘Have you an appointment, sir?’ said Albert.

      ‘I don’t quite know. Yes, I suppose I have. What I mean is, I wrote a letter –’

      ‘What name, sir?’

      ‘Mr Montgomery Jones.’

      ‘I will take your name in to Mr Blunt.’

      He returned after a brief interval.

      ‘Will you wait a few minutes please, sir. Mr Blunt is engaged on a very important conference at present.’

      ‘Oh – er – yes – certainly,’ said Mr Montgomery Jones.

      Having, he hoped, impressed his client sufficiently Tommy rang the buzzer on his desk, and Mr Montgomery Jones was ushered into the inner office by Albert.

      Tommy rose to greet him, and shaking him warmly by the hand motioned towards the vacant chair.

      ‘Now, Mr Montgomery Jones,’ he said briskly. ‘What can we have the pleasure of doing for you?’

      Mr Montgomery Jones looked uncertainly at the third occupant of the office.

      ‘My confidential secretary, Miss Robinson,’ said Tommy. ‘You can speak quite freely before her. I take it that this is some family matter of a delicate kind?’

      ‘Well – not exactly,’ said Mr Montgomery Jones.