Cat Among the Pigeons. Agatha Christie

to you, and Uncle Bob nudged you not to make a fuss and to eat it? I mean, if a sheikh did that with roast lamb at Buckingham Palace, it would give the Queen a bit of a jolt, wouldn’t it?’

      ‘That will do, Jennifer,’ said her mother and closed the subject.

      IV

      When Andrew Ball of no fixed abode had been sentenced to three months for breaking and entering, Derek O’Connor, who had been occupying a modest position at the back of the Magistrate’s Court, put through a call to a Museum number.

      ‘Not a thing on the fellow when we picked him up,’ he said. ‘We gave him plenty of time too.’

      ‘Who was he? Anyone we know?’

      ‘One of the Gecko lot, I think. Small time. They hire him out for this sort of thing. Not much brain but he’s said to be thorough.’

      ‘And he took his sentence like a lamb?’ At the other end of the line Colonel Pikeaway grinned as he spoke.

      ‘Yes. Perfect picture of a stupid fellow lapsed from the straight and narrow path. You’d never connect him with any big time stuff. That’s his value, of course.’

      ‘And he didn’t find anything,’ mused Colonel Pikeaway. ‘And you didn’t find anything. It rather looks, doesn’t it, as though there isn’t anything to find? Our idea that Rawlinson planted these things on his sister seems to have been wrong.’

      ‘Other people appear to have the same idea.’

      ‘It’s a bit obvious really…Maybe we are meant to take the bait.’

      ‘Could be. Any other possibilities?’

      ‘Plenty of them. The stuff may still be in Ramat. Hidden somewhere in the Ritz Savoy Hotel, maybe. Or Rawlinson passed it to someone on his way to the airstrip. Or there may be something in that hint of Mr Robinson’s. A woman may have got hold of it. Or it could be that Mrs Sutcliffe had it all the time unbeknownst to herself, and flung it overboard in the Red Sea with something she had no further use for.

      ‘And that,’ he added thoughtfully, ‘might be all for the best.’

      ‘Oh, come now, it’s worth a lot of money, sir.’

      ‘Human life is worth a lot, too,’ said Colonel Pikeaway.

       Chapter 5

       Letters from Meadowbank School

      Letter from Julia Upjohn to her mother:

      Dear Mummy,

      I’ve settled in now and am liking it very much. There’s a girl who is new this term too called Jennifer and she and I rather do things together. We’re both awfully keen on tennis. She’s rather good. She has a really smashing serve when it comes off, but it doesn’t usually. She says her racquet’s got warped from being out in the Persian Gulf. It’s very hot out there. She was in all that Revolution that happened. I said wasn’t it very exciting, but she said no, they didn’t see anything at all. They were taken away to the Embassy or something and missed it.

      Miss Bulstrode is rather a lamb, but she’s pretty frightening too—or can be. She goes easy on you when you’re new. Behind her back everyone calls her The Bull or Bully. We’re taught English literature by Miss Rich, who’s terrific. When she gets in a real state her hair comes down. She’s got a queer but rather exciting face and when she reads bits of Shakespeare it all seems different and real. She went on at us the other day about Iago, and what he felt—and a lot about jealousy and how it ate into you and you suffered until you went quite mad wanting to hurt the person you loved. It gave us all the shivers—except Jennifer, because nothing upsets her. Miss Rich teaches us Geography, too. I always thought it was such a dull subject, but it isn’t with Miss Rich. This morning she told us all about the spice trade and why they had to have spices because of things going bad so easily.

      I’m starting Art with Miss Laurie. She comes twice a week and takes us up to London to see picture galleries as well. We do French with Mademoiselle Blanche. She doesn’t keep order very well. Jennifer says French people can’t. She doesn’t get cross, though, only bored. She says ‘Enfin, vous m’ennuiez, mes enfants!’ Miss Springer is awful. She does gym and P.T. She’s got ginger hair and smells when she’s hot. Then there’s Miss Chadwick (Chaddy)—she’s been here since the school started. She teaches mathematics and is rather fussy, but quite nice. And there’s Miss Vansittart who teaches History and German. She’s a sort of Miss Bulstrode with the pep left out.

      There are a lot of foreign girls here, two Italians and some Germans, and a rather jolly Swede (she’s a Princess or something) and a girl who’s half Turkish and half Persian and who says she would have been married to Prince Ali Yusuf who got killed in that aeroplane crash, but Jennifer says that isn’t true, that Shaista only says so because she was a kind of cousin, and you’re supposed to marry a cousin. But Jennifer says he wasn’t going to. He liked someone else. Jennifer knows a lot of things but she won’t usually tell them.

      I suppose you’ll be starting on your trip soon. Don’t leave your passport behind you like you did last time!!! And take your first aid kit in case you have an accident.

      Love from Julia

      Letter from Jennifer Sutcliffe to her mother:

      Dear Mummy,

      It really isn’t bad here. I’m enjoying it more than I expected to do. The weather has been very fine. We had to write a composition yesterday on ‘Can a good quality be carried to excess?’ I couldn’t think of anything to say. Next week it will be ‘Contrast the characters of Juliet and Desdemona.’ That seems silly too. Do you think I could have a new tennis racquet? I know you had mine restrung last Autumn—but it feels all wrong. Perhaps it’s got warped. I’d rather like to learn Greek. Can I? I love languages. Some of us are going to London to see the ballet next week. It’s Swan Lake. The food here is jolly good. Yesterday we had chicken for lunch, and we had lovely home made cakes for tea.

      I can’t think of any more news—have you had any more burglaries?

      Your loving daughter,

      Jennifer

      Letter from Margaret Gore-West, Senior Prefect, to her mother:

      Dear Mummy,

      There is very little news. I am doing German with Miss Vansittart this term. There is a rumour that Miss Bulstrode is going to retire and that Miss Vansittart will succeed her but they’ve been saying that for over a year now, and I’m sure it isn’t true. I asked Miss Chadwick (of course I wouldn’t dare ask Miss Bulstrode!) and she was quite sharp about it. Said certainly not and don’t listen to gossip. We went to the ballet on Tuesday. Swan Lake. Too dreamy for words!

      Princess Ingrid is rather fun. Very blue eyes, but she wears braces on her teeth. There are two new German girls. They speak English quite well.

      Miss Rich is back and looking quite well. We did miss her last term. The new Games Mistress is called Miss Springer. She’s terribly bossy and nobody likes her much. She coaches you in tennis very well, though. One of the new girls, Jennifer Sutcliffe, is going to be really good, I think. Her backhand’s a bit weak. Her great friend is a girl called Julia. We call them the Jays!

      You won’t forget about taking me out on the 20th, will you? Sports Day is June 19th.

      Your Loving

      Margaret

      Letter from Ann Shapland to Dennis Rathbone:

      Dear Dennis,

      I shan’t get any time off until the third week of term. I should like to dine with you then very much. It would have to be Saturday or Sunday. I’ll let you know.

      I