AgathaChristie-ParkerPineDetective

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by Parker Pyne Detective (lit)


  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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