make him even kiss me as though he liked it!"
"A novel experience for you, my dear. Well, is your
task accomplished?"
"Yes. I think all is well. We had a tremendous scene
last night. Let me see, my last report was three days
ago?"
"Yes."
"Well, as I told you, I only had to look at that
miserable worm, Sinclair Jordan, once. He was all over
THE CASE OF THE DISCONTENTED HUSBAND
63
me--especially as he thought from my clothes that I had
money. Mrs. Wade was furious, of course. Here were
both her men dancing attendance on me. I soon showed
where my preference lay. I made fun of Sinclair Jordan,
to his face and to her. I laughed at his clothes, and at the
length of his hair. I pointed out that he had knock-knees."
"Excellent technique," said Mr. Parker Pyne ap-preciatively..
"Everything boiled up last night. Mrs. Wade came
out in the open. She accused me of breaking up her
home. Reggie Wade mentioned the little matter of Sin-clair
Jordan. She said that that was only the result of her
unhappiness and loneliness. She had noticed her hus-band's
abstraction for some time but had had no idea as
to the cause of it. She said they had always been ideally
happy, that she adored him and he knew it, and that she
wanted him and only him.
"I said it was too late for that. Mr. Wade followed his
instructions splendidly. He said he didn't give a damn!
He was going to marry me! Mrs. Wade could have her
Sinclair as soon as she pleased. There was no reason
why the divorce proceedings shouldn't be started at
once; waiting six months was absurd.
"Within a few days, he said, she should have the
necessary evidence and could instruct her solicitors.
He said he couldn't live without me. Then Mrs. Wade
clutched her chest and talked about her weak heart and
had to be given brandy. He didn't weaken. He went up
to town this morning, and I've no doubt she's gone after
him by this time."
"So that's all right," said Mr. Pyne cheerfully. "A
:?:!very satisfactory case.
i,[i The door flew open. In the doorway stood Reggie
:Wade.
64
Agatha Christie
"Is she here?" he demanded, advancing into the
room "Where is she?" He caught sight of Madeleine.
"Darling!" he cried. He seized both her hands. "Darl-ing,
darling. You knew, didn't you, that it was real last
night--that I meant every word I said to Iris? I don't
know why I was blind so long. But I've known for the
last three days."
"Known what?" said Madeleine faintly.
"That I adored you. That there was no woman in the
world for me but you. Iris can bring her divorce and
when it's gone through you'll marry me, won't you? Say
you will. Madeleine, I adore you."
He caught the paralyzed Madeleine in his arms just as
the door flew open again, this time to admit a thin
woman dressed in untidy green.
"I thought so!" said the newcomer. "I followed you!
I knew you'd go to her!"
"I can assure you--" began Mr. Parker Pyne, re-covering
from the stupefaction that had descended upon
him.
The intruder took no notice of him. She swept on:
"Oh, Reggie, you can't want to break my heart! Only
come back! I'll not say a word about all this. I'll learn
golf. I won't have any friends you don't care about.
After all these years, when we've been so happy
together--"
"I've never been happy till now," said Mr. Wade,
still gazing at Madeleine. "Dash it all, Iris, you wanted
to marry that ass Jordan. Why don't you go and do itT"
Mrs. Wade gave a wail. "I hate him! I hate the very
sight of him." She turned to Madeleine. "You wicked
woman! You horrible vampire--stealing my husband
from me."
"I don't want your husband," said Madeleine
distractedly.
THE CASE OF THE DISCONTENTED HUSBAND
65
"Madeleine!" Mr. Wade was gazing at her in agony.
"Please go away," said Madeleine.
"But lookhere, I'm not pretending. I mean it."
"Oh, go away!" cried Madeleine hysterically. "Go away!"
Reggie moved reluctantly towards the door. "I shall
come back," he warned her. "You've not seen the last
of me." He went out, banging the door.
"Girls like you ought to be flogged and branded!"
cried Mrs. Wade. "Reggie was an angel to me always till
you came along. Now he's so changed I don't know
him." With a sob, she hurried out after her husband.
Madeleine and Mr. Parker Pyne looked at each other.
"I can't help it," said Madeleine helplessly. "He's a
very nice man--a dear--but I don't want to marry him. I'd no idea of all this. If you knew the difficulty I had
making him kiss me!"
"Ahem!" said Mr. Parker Pyne. "I regret to admit
it, but it was an error of judgment on my part." He
shook his head sadly, and drawing Mr. Wade's file
towards him, wrote across it:
FAILURE--owing to natural causes.
N.B. They should have been foreseen.
cYt e Case of
tt e City Clerl
Mr. Parker Pyne leaned back thoughtfully in his swivel
chair and surveyed his visitor. He saw a small sturdily
built man of forty-five with wistful, puzzled, timid eyes
that looked at him with a kind of anxious hopefulness.
"I saw your advertisement in the paper" said the
little man nervously.
"You are in trouble, Mr. Roberts?"
"Nognot in trouble exactly."
"You are unhappy?"
"I shouldn't like to say that either. I've a great deal to
be thankful for."
"We all have," said Mr. Parker Pyne. "But when we
have to remind ourselves of the fact it is a bad sign."
"I know," said the little man eagerly. "That's just it!
You've hit the nail on the head, sir."
"Supposing you tell me all about yourself," sug-gested
Mr. Parker Pyne.
"There's not much to tell, sir. As I say, I've a great
deal to be thankful for. I have a job; I've managed to
save a little money; the children are strong and
healthy."
"So you want--what?"
66
THE CASE OF THE CITY CLERK
67
"I--I don't know." He flushed. "I expect that
sounds foolish to you, sir."
"Not at all," said Mr. Parker Pyne.
By skilled questioning he elicited further confidences.
He heard of Mr. Roberts' employment in a well-known
firm and of his slow but steady rise. He heard of his
marriage; of the struggle to present a decent ap-pearance,
to educate the children and have them "look-ing
nice"; of the plotting and planning and skimping
and saving to put aside a few'pounds each year. He
heard, in fact, the saga of a life of ceaseless effort to
survive.
"And--well, you see how it is," confessed Mr.
Roberts. "Th
e wife's away. Staying with her mother
with the two children. Little change for them and a rest
for her. No room for me and we can't afford to go else-where.
And being alone, and reading the paper, I saw
your advertisement and it set me thinking. I'm forty-eight.
I just wondered . . . Things going on every-where,"
he ended, all his wistful suburban soul in his
eyes.
"You want," said Mr. Pyne, "to live gloriously for
ten minutes?"
"Well, I shouldn't put it like that. But perhaps you're
right. Just to get out of the rut. I'd go back to it
thankful afterwards--if only I had something to think
about." He looked at the other man anxiously. "I sup-pose
there's nothing possible, sir? I'm afraid--I'm
afraid I couldn't afford to pay much."
"How much could you afford?"
"I could manage five pounds, sir." He waited,
breathless.
"Five pounds," said Mr. Parker Pyne. "I fancy--I
just fancy we might be able to manage something for
five pounds. Do you object to danger?" he added
sharply.
68
Agatha Christie
A tinge of color came into Mr. Roberts' sallow face.
"Danger, did you say, sir? Oh, no, not at all. I--I've
never done anything dangerous."
Mr. Parker Pyne smiled. "Come to see me again
tomorrow and I'll tell you what I can do for you."
The Bon Voyageur is a little-known hostelry. It is a
restaurant frequented by a few habitues. They dislike
newcomers.
To the Bon Voyageur came Mr. Pyne and was greeted
with respectful recognition. "Mr. Bonnington here?"
he asked.
"Yes, sir. He's at his usual table."
"Good. I'll join him."
Mr. Bonnington was a gentleman of military ap-pearance
with a somewhat bovine face. He greeted his
friend with pleasures.
"Hello, Parker. Hardly ever see you nowadays.
Didn't know you came here."
"I do now and then. Especially when I want to lay my
hand on an old friend."
"Meaning me?"
"Meaning you. As a matter of fact, Lucas, I've been
thinking over what we were talking about the other
day."
"The Peterfield business? Seen the latest in the
papers? No, you can't have. It won't be in till this even- .
ing."
"What is the latest?"
"They murdered Peterfield last night," said Mr. Bon-nington,
placidly eating salad.
"Good heavens!" cried Mr. Pyne.
"Oh, I'm not surprised," said Mr. Bonnington.
"Pig-headed old man, Peterfield. Wouldn't listen to us.
Insisted on keeping the plans in his own hands."
"Did they get them?"
THE CASE OF THE CITY CLERK
69
"No; it seems some woman came round and gave the
professor a recipe for boiling a ham. The old ass,
absent-minded as usual, put the recipe for the ham in his
safe and the plans in the kitchen."
"Fortunate."
"Almost providential. But I still don't know who's
going to take 'em to Geneva. Maitland's in the hospital.
Carslake's in Berlin. I can't leave. It means young
Hooper." He looked at his friend.
"You're still of the same opinion?" asked Mr. Parker
Pyne.
"Absolutely. He's been got at! I know it. I haven't a
shadow of proof, but I tell you, Parker, I know when
a chap's crooked! And I want those plans to get to
Geneva. The League needs 'em. For the first time an invention
isn't going to be sold to a nation. It's going to
be handed over voluntarily to the League.
"It's the finest peace gesture that's ever been attempted,
and it's got to be put through. And Hooper's
crooked. You'll see, he'll be drugged on the train! If he
oes in a plane it'll come down at some convenient spot!
ut confound it all, I can't pass him over. Discipline!
You've got to have discipline! That's why I spoke to you
the other day."
"You asked me whether I knew of anyone."
"Yes. Thought you might in your line of business.
Some fire eater spoiling for a row. Whoever I send
stands a good chance of being done in. Your man would
probably not be suspected at all. But he's got to have
nerve."
"I think I know of someone who would do," said
Mr. Pyne.
"Thank God there are still chaps who will take a risk.
Well, it's agreed, then?"
"It's agreed," said Mr. Parker Pyne.
·
·
·
70
Agatha Christie
Mr. Parker Pyne was summing up instructions.
"Now, that's quite clear? You will travel in a first-class
sleeper to Geneva. You leave London at ten-forty-five,
via Folkestone and Boulogne, and you get into your
first-class sleeper at Boulogne. You arrive at Geneva at
eight the following morning. Here is the address at
which you will report. Please memorize it and I will
destroy it. Afterwards go to this hotel and await further
instructions. Here is sufficient money in French and
Swiss notes and currency. You understand?"
"Yes, sir." Roberts' eyes were shining with excite-ment.
"Excuse me, sir, but am I allowed to--er--know
anything of what it is I am carrying?"
Mr. Parker Pyne smiled beneficently. "You are
carrying a cryptogram which reveals the secret hiding
place of the crown jewels of Russia," he said solemnly.
"You can understand, naturally, that Bolshevist agents
will be alert to intercept you. If it is necessary for you to
talk about yourself, I should recommend that you say
you have come into money and are enjoying a little
holiday abroad."
Mr. Roberts sipped a cup of coffee and looked out
over the Lake of Geneva. He was happy but at the same
time he was disappointed.
He was happy because, for the first time in his life, he
was in a foreign country. Moreover, he was staying in
the kind of hotel he would never stay in again, and not
for one moment had he had to worry about money! He
had a room with private bathroom, delicious meals and
attentive service. All these things Mr. Roberts had en-joyed
very much indeed.
He was disappointed because so far nothing that
could be described as adventure 'had come his way. No
disguised Bolshevists or mysterious Russians had
crossed his path. A pleasant chat on the train with a
THE CASE OF THE CITY CLERK
71
French commercial traveler who spoke excellent English
was the only human intercourse that had come his way.
He had secreted the papers in his sponge bag as he had
been told to do and had delivered them according to instructions.
There had been no dangers to overcome, no
hair-breadth escapes. Mr. Roberts was disappointed.
It was at that moment that a tall, bearded man murmured, "Pardon," and sat down on the other side of
the little table. "You will excuse me," he said, "but I
think you know a friend of mine. 'P.P.' are the initials.''
Mr. Roberts was pleasantly thrilled. Here, at last, was
a mysterious Russian. "Qu-quite right."
"Then I think we understand each other," said the
stranger.
Mr. Roberts looked at him searchingly. This was far
more like the real thing. The stranger was a man of
about fifty, of distinguished though foreign appearance.
He wore an eyeglass, and a small colored ribbon
in his buttonhole.
"You have accomplished your mission in the most
satisfactory manner," said the stranger. "Are you
prepared to undertake a further one?"
"Certainly. Oh, yes."
"Good. You will book a sleeper on the GenevaParis
train for tomorrow night. You will ask for Berth
Number Nine."
"Supposing it is not free?"
"It will be free. That will have been seen to."
"Berth Number Nine," repeated Roberts. "Yes, I've
got that."
"During the course of your journey someone will say
to you, 'Pardon Monsieur, but I think.you were recently
at Grasse?' To that you will reply, 'Yes, last month.'
The person will then say,. 'You are interested in scent?'
and you will reply, 'Yes, I am a manufacturer of syn-
72
Agatha Christie '
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