THE MAN IN THE BROWN SUIT
A diamond robbery. An accidental death
at a London Tube station. And the
murder of a beautiful woman in a remote
country mansion. Who or What is the
connection? Is it the foreigner who
claimed to be a doctor and then disappeared?
The one the papers called
"The Man in the Brown Suit"? Only
Anne Beddingfield, who discovered that
strange scrap of paper smelling of mothballs, believes he man in the brown suiteshe can solve the mystery.
And her investigation takes her on a
danger-fraught ocean voyage to Africa
where the real intrigue begins . . .
AGATHA CHRISTIE
THE MAN
IN THE
BROWN SUIT
Complete and Unabridged
,vw^
Q
Ai
' ULVERSCROFT
Leicester
First published 1924
First Large Print Edition
published May 1984
by arrangement with
The Bodley Head, London
and
Dodd, Mead & Company, Inc.
New York
© Agatha Christie 1924
British Library CIP Data
Christie, Agatha - UJCL
The man in the brown suit.--Large print r,., .-^...- *-L (Ulverscroft large print series: mystery) - j' "
1. Title '
823'.912[F] PR6005.H66
IrCL
ISBN 0-7089-1125-0 /
public library
Published by IF . A. Thorpe (Publishing) Ltd.
Anstey, Leicestershire
Printed and Bound in Great Britain by
T. J. Press (Padstow) Ltd., Padstow, Cornwall
Prologue
NADINA,
had taker
the soun
ADINA, the Russian dancer who
had taken Paris by storm, swayed to
the sound of the applause, bowed
and bowed again. Her narrow black eyes
narrowed themselves still more, the long line
of her scarlet mouth curved faintly upwards.
Enf ^sisstic Frenchmen continued to beat
Lx^ p.ound appreciatively as the curtain fell
with a swish, hiding the reds and blues and
magentas of the bizarre decor. In a swirl of
blue and orange draperies the dancer left the
stage. A bearded gentleman received her
enthusiastically in his arms. It was the
Manager.
"Magnificent, petite, magnificent," he
cried. "To-night you have surpassed
yourself." He kissed her gallantly on both
cheeks in a somewhat matter-of-fact manner.
Madame Nadina accepted the tribute with
the ease of long habit and passed on to her
dressing-room, where bouquets were heaped
carelessly everywhere, marvellous garments
of futuristic design hung on pegs, and the air
1
was hot and sweet with the scent of the
massed blossoms and with more sophisticated
perfumes and essences, Jeanne, the dresser,
ministered to her mistress, talking incessantly
and pouring out a stream of fulsome
compliment.
A knock at the door interrupted the flow.
Jeanne went to answer it, and returned with a
card in her hand.
"Madame will receive?"
"Let me see."
The dancer stretched out a languid hand,
but at the sight of the name on the card,
'Count Sergius Paulovitch/ a sudden flicker
of interest came into her eyes.
"I will see him. The maize peignoir, Jeanne,
and quickly. And when the Count comes you
may go."
"Bien, Madame."
Jeanne brought the peignoir, an exquisite
wisp of corn-coloured chiffon and ermine.
Nadine slipped into it, and sat smiling to
herself, whilst one long white hand beat a
slow tattoo on the glass of the dressing-table.
The Count was prompt to avail himself of
the privilege accorded to him—a man of
medium height, very slim, very elegant, very
pale, extraordinarily weary. In feature, little
2
to take hold of, a man difficult to recognize
again if one left his mannerisms out of
account. He bowed over the dancer's hand
with exaggerated courtliness.
"Madame, this is a pleasure indeed."
So much Jeanne heard before she went out,
closing the door behind her. Alone with her
visitor, a subtle change came over Nadina's
smile.
"Compatriots though we are, we will not
speak Russian, I think," she observed.
"Since we neither of us know a word of the
language, it might be as well," agreed her
guest.
By common consent, they dropped into
English, and nobody, now that the Count's
mannerisms had dropped from him, could
doubt that it was his native language. He had,
indeed, started life as a quick-change musichall
artiste in London.
"You had a great success to-night," he
remarked. "I congratulate you."
"All the same," said the woman, "I am
disturbed. My position is not what it was.
The suspicions aroused during the War have
never died down. I am continually watched
and spied upon."
3
"But no charge of espionage was ever
brought against you?"
"Our chief lays his plans too carefully for
that."
"Long life to the 'Colonel'," said the
Count, smiling. "Amazing news, is it not,
that he means to retire? To retire! Just like a
doctor, or a butcher, or a plumber——"
"Or any other business man," finished
Nadina. "It should not surprise us. That is
what the colonel* has always been—an
excellent man of business. He has organized
crime as another man might organize a boot
factory. Without committing himself, he has
planned and directed a series of stupendous
coups, embracing every branch of what we
might call his 'profession.' Jewel robberies,
forgery, espionage (the latter very profitable
in war-time), sabotage, discreet assassination,
there is hardly anything he had not touched.
Wisest of all, he knows when to stop. The
game begins to be dangerous?—he retires
gracefully—with an enormous fortune!"
"ITm!" said the Count doubtfully. "It is
rather—upsetting for all of us. We are at a
loose end, as it were."
"But we are being paid off—on a most
generous scale!"
4
Something, some undercurrent of mockery
in her tone, made the man look .at her
sharply. She was smiling to herself, and the
quality other smile aroused his curiosity. But
he proceeded diplomaticall
y:
"Yes, the 'Colonel' has always been a
generous paymaster. I attribute much of his
success to that--and to his invariable plan of
providing a suitable scapegoat. A great brain,
undoubtedly a great brain! And an apostle of
the maxim, "If you want a thing done safely,
do not do it yourself!" Here we are, every one
of us incriminated up to the hilt and
absolutely in his power, and not one of us has
anything on him."
He paused, almost as though he were
expecting her to disagree with him, but she
remained silent, smiling to herself as before.
"Not one of us," he mused. "Still, you
know, he is superstitious, the old man. Years
ago, I believe, he went to one of these
fortune-telling people. She prophesied a lifetime
of success, but declared that his
downfall would be brought about through a
woman."
He had interested her now. She looked up
eagerly.
5
"That is strange, very strange! Through a
woman you say?"
He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
"Doubtless, now that he has—retired, he
will marry. Some young society beauty, who
will disperse his millions faster than he
acquired them."
Nadina shook her head.
"No, no, that is not the way of it. Listen,
my friend, tomorrow I go to London."
"But your contract here?"
"I shall be away only one night. And I go
incognito, like Royalty. No one will ever
know that I have left France. And why do you
think that I go?"
"Hardly for pleasure at this time of year.
January, a detest^ale foggy month! It must be
for profit, eh?"
"Exactly." She rose and stood in front of
him, every graceful line of her arrogant with
pride. "You said just now that none of us had
anything on the chief. You were wrong. I
have. I, a woman, have had the wit and, yes,
the courage—for it needs courage—to doublecross
him. You remember the De Beers
diamonds?"
"Yes, I remember. At Kimberley, just
before the War broke out? I had nothing to do
6
with it, and I never heard the details: the case
was hushed up for some reason, was it not? A
fine haul too."
"A hundred thousand pounds' worth of
stones. Two of us worked it—under the
colonel's' orders, of course. And it was then
that I saw my chance. You see, the plan was
to substitute some of the De Beers diamonds
for some sample diamonds brought from
South America by two young prospectors
who happened to be in Kimberley at the
time. Suspicion was then bound to fall on
them."
"Very clever," interpolated the Count
approvingly.
"The 'Colonel' is always clever. Well, I did
my part—but I also did o ' thing which the
'Colonel' had not foreseen. I kept back some
of the South American stones—one or two are
unique and could easily be proved never to
have passed through De Beers' hands. With
these diamonds in my possession, I have the
whip-hand of my esteemed chief. Once the
two young men are cleared, his part in the
matter is bound to be suspected. I have said
nothing all these years, I have been content to
know that I had this weapon in reserve, but
now matters are different. I want my
price--and it will be a big, I might almost say
a staggering price."
"Extraordinary," said the Count. "And
doubtless you carry these diamonds about ^ with you everywhere?"
His eyes roamed gently round the
disordered room.
Nadina laughed softly.
"You need suppose nothing of the sort. I
am not a fool. The diamonds are in a safe
place where no one will dream of looking for
them."
"I never thought you a fool, my dear lady, but may I venture to suggest that you are
somewhat foolhardy? The 'Colonel' is not the
type of man to take kindly to being blackmailed,
you know."
"I am not afraid of him," she laughed.
"There is only one man I have ever
feared--and he is dead."
The man looked at her curiously.
"Let us hope that he will not come to life
again, then," he remarked lightly.
"What do you mean?" cried the dancer
sharply.
The Count looked slightly surprised.
"I only meant that a resurrection would be
8
awkward for you," he explained. "A foolish
joke."
She gave a sigh of relief.
"Oh, no, he is dead all right. Killed in the
war. He was a man who once—loved me."
"In South Africa?" asked the Count
negligently.
"Yes, since you ask it, in South Africa."
"That is your native country, is it not?"
She nodded. Her visitor rose and reached
for his hat.
"Well," he remarked, "you know your own
business best, but, if I were you, I should fear
the 'Colonel' far more than any disillusioned
lover. He is a man whom it is particularly
easy to—underestimate."
She laughed scornfully.
"As if I did not know him after all these
years!"
"I wonder if you do?" he said softly. "I
very much wonder if you do."
"Oh, I am not a fool! And I am not alone in
this. The South African mail-boat docks at
Southampton to-morrow, and on board her is
a man who has come specially from Africa at
my request and who has carried out certain
orders of mine. The 'Colonel' will have not
one of us to deal with, but two."
9
"Is that wise?"
"It is necessary."
"You are sure of this man?"
A rather peculiar smile played over the
dancer's face.
"I am quite sure of him. He is inefficient,
but perfectly trustworthy." She paused, and
then added in an indifferent tone of voice:
"As a matter of fact, he happens to be my
husband."
10
1
EVERYBODY has been at me, right and
left, to write this story, from the great
(represented by Lord Nasby) to the
small (represented by our late maid-of-allwork,
Emily, whom I saw when I was last in
England. "Lor, miss, what a beyewtiful book
you might make out of it all—just like the
pictures!").
I'll admit that I've certain qualifications for
the task. I was mixed up in the affair from the
very beginning, I was in the thick of it all
through, and I was triumphantly "in at the
death." Very fortunately, too, the gaps that I
cannot supply from my own knowledge are
amply covered by Sir Eustace Pedler's diary,
of which he has kindly begged me to make
use.
So here goes
. Anne Beddingfield starts to
narrate her adventures.
I'd always longed for adventures. You see,
my life had such a dreadful sameness. My
father. Professor Beddingfield, was one of
England's greatest living authorities on
TMITBS 2 11
Primitive Man. He really was a genius--
everyone admits that. His mind dwelt in
Palaeolithic times, and the inconvenience of
life for him was that his body inhabited the
modern world. Papa did not care for modern
man--even Neolithic Man he despised as a
mere herder of cattle, and he did not rise to
enthusiasm until he reached the Mousterian
period.
Unfortunately one cannot entirely dispense
with modern men. One is forced to have some
kind of truck with butchers and bakers and
milkmen and greengrocers. Therefore, Papa
being immersed in the past. Mama having
died when I was a baby, it fell to me to
undertake the practical side of living.
Frankly, I hate Palaeolithic Man, be he
Aurignacian, Mousterian, Chellian, or anything
else, and though I typed and revised
most of Papa's Neanderthal Man and his
Ancestors^ Neanderthal men themselves fill
me with loathing, and I always reflect what a
fortunate circumstance it was that they
became extinct in remote ages.
I do not know whether Papa guessed my
feelings on the subject, probably not, and in
any case he would not have been interested.
The opinion of other people never interested
12
him in the slightest degree. I think it was
really a sign of his greatness. In the same way,
he lived quite detached from the necessities of
daily life. He ate what was put before him in
an exemplary fashion, but seemed mildly
pained when the question of paying for it
arose. We never seemed to have any money.
His celebrity was not of the kind that brought
in a cash return. Although he was a Fellow of
almost every important society and had rows
of letters after his name, the general public
scarcely knew of his existence, and his long
learned books, though adding signally to the
sum-total of human knowledge, had no
attraction for the masses. Only on one
occasion did he leap into the public gaze. He
had read a paper before some society on the
subject of the young of the chimpanzee. The
young of the human race show some
anthropoid features, whereas the young of the
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