Agatha Christie

Cover

Title Page

The House of Lurking Death

About the Author

Related Products

Copyright

About the Publisher

‘The House of Lurking Death' was first published in The Sketch, 5 November 1924. Inspector Hanaud was created by
A. E. W. Mason (1865–1948).

‘What –' began Tuppence, and then stopped.

She had just entered the private office of Mr Blunt from the adjoining one marked ‘Clerks,' and was surprised to behold her lord and master with his eye riveted to the private peep-hole into the outer office.

‘Ssh,' said Tommy warningly. ‘Didn't you hear the buzzer? It's a girl – rather a nice girl – in fact she looks to me a frightfully nice girl. Albert is telling her all that tosh about my being engaged with Scotland Yard.'

‘Let
me
see,' demanded Tuppence.

Somewhat unwillingly, Tommy moved aside. Tuppence in her turn glued her eye to the peep-hole.

‘She's not bad,' admitted Tuppence. ‘And her clothes are simply the lastest shout.'

‘She's perfectly lovely,' said Tommy. ‘She's like those girls Mason writes about – you know, frightfully sympathetic, and beautiful, and distinctly intelligent without being too saucy. I think, yes – I certainly think – I shall be the great Hanaud this morning.'

‘H'm,' said Tuppence. ‘If there is one detective out of all the others whom you are most unlike – I should say it was Hanaud. Can you do the lightning changes of personality? Can you be the great comedian, the little gutter boy, the serious and sympathetic friend – all in five minutes?'

‘I know this,' said Tommy, rapping sharply on the desk, ‘I am the Captain of the Ship – and don't you forget it, Tuppence. I'm going to have her in.'

He pressed the buzzer on his desk. Albert appeared ushering in the client.

The girl stopped in the doorway as though undecided. Tommy came forward.

‘Come in, mademoiselle,' he said kindly, ‘and seat yourself here.'

Tuppence choked audibly and Tommy turned upon her with a swift change of manner. His tone was menacing.

‘You spoke, Miss Robinson? Ah, no, I thought not.'

He turned back to the girl.

‘We will not be serious or formal,' he said. ‘You will just tell me about it, and then we will discuss the best way to help you.'

‘You are very kind,' said the girl. ‘Excuse me, but are you a foreigner?'

A fresh choke from Tuppence. Tommy glared in her direction out of the corner of his eye.

‘Not exactly,' he said with difficulty. ‘But of late years I have worked a good deal abroad. My methods are the methods of the Sûreté.'

‘Oh!' The girl seemed impressed.

She was, as Tommy had indicated, a very charming girl. Young and slim, with a trace of golden hair peeping out from under her little brown felt hat, and big serious eyes.

That she was nervous could be plainly seen. Her little hands were twisting themselves together, and she kept clasping and unclasping the catch of her lacquered handbag.

‘First of all, Mr Blunt, I must tell you that my name is Lois Hargreaves. I live in a great rambling old-fashioned house called Thurnly Grange. It is in the heart of the country. There is the village of Thurnly nearby, but it is very small and insignificant. There is plenty of hunting in winter, and we get tennis in summer, and I have never felt lonely there. Indeed I much prefer country to town life.

‘I tell you this so that you may realise that in a country village like ours, everything that happens is of supreme importance. About a week ago, I got a box of chocolates sent through the post. There was nothing inside to indicate who they came from. Now I myself am not particularly fond of chocolates, but the others in the house are, and the box was passed round. As a result, everyone who had eaten any chocolates was taken ill. We sent for the doctor, and after various inquiries as to what other things had been eaten, he took the remains of the chocolates away with him, and had them analysed. Mr Blunt, those chocolates contained arsenic! Not enough to kill anyone, but enough to make anyone quite ill.'

‘Extraordinary,' commented Tommy.

‘Dr Burton was very excited over the matter. It seems that this was the third occurrence of the kind in the neighbourhood. In each case a big house was selected, and the inmates were taken ill after eating the mysterious chocolates. It looked as though some local person of weak intellect was playing a particularly fiendish practical joke.'

‘Quite so, Miss Hargreaves.'

‘Dr Burton put it down to Socialist agitation – rather absurdly, I thought. But there are one or two malcontents in Thurnly village, and it seemed possible that they might have had something to do with it. Dr Burton was very keen that I should put the whole thing in the hands of the police.'

‘A very natural suggestion,' said Tommy. ‘But you have not done so, I gather, Miss Hargreaves?'

‘No,' admitted the girl. ‘I hate the fuss and the publicity that would ensue – and you see, I know our local Inspector. I can never imagine him finding out anything! I have often seen your advertisements, and I told Dr Burton that it would be much better to call in a private detective.'

‘I see.'

‘You say a great deal about discretion in your advertisement. I take that to mean – that – that – well, that you would not make anything public without my consent?'

Tommy looked at her curiously, but it was Tuppence who spoke.

‘I think,' she said quietly, ‘that it would be as well if Miss Hargreaves told us
everything
.'

She laid especial stress upon the last word, and Lois Hargreaves flushed nervously.

‘Yes,' said Tommy quickly, ‘Miss Robinson is right. You must tell us everything.'

‘You will not –' she hesitated.

‘Everything you say is understood to be strictly in confidence.'

‘Thank you. I know that I ought to have been quite frank with you. I have a reason for not going to the police. Mr Blunt, that box of chocolates was sent by someone in our house!'

‘How do you know that, mademoiselle?'

‘It's very simple. I've got a habit of drawing a little silly thing – three fish intertwined – whenever I have a pencil in my hand. A parcel of silk stockings arrived from a certain shop in London not long ago. We were at the breakfast table. I'd just been marking something in the newspaper, and without thinking, I began to draw my silly little fish on the label of the parcel before cutting the string and opening it. I thought no more about the matter, but when I was examining the piece of brown paper in which the chocolates had been sent, I caught sight of the corner of the original label – most of which had been torn off. My silly little drawing was on it.'

Tommy drew his chair forward.

‘That is very serious. It creates, as you say, a very strong presumption that the sender of the chocolates is a member of your household. But you will forgive me if I say that I still do not see why that fact should render you indisposed to call in the police?'

Lois Hargreaves looked him squarely in the face.

‘I will tell you, Mr Blunt. I may want the whole thing hushed up.'

Tommy retired gracefully from the position.

‘In that case,' he murmured, ‘we know where we are. I see, Miss Hargreaves, that you are not disposed to tell me who it is you suspect?'

‘I suspect no one – but there are possibilities.'

‘Quite so. Now will you describe the household to me in detail?'

‘The servants, with the exception of the parlourmaid, are all old ones who have been with us many years. I must explain to you, Mr Blunt, that I was brought up by my aunt, Lady Radclyffe, who was extremely wealthy. Her husband made a big fortune, and was knighted. It was he who bought Thurnly Grange, but he died two years after going there, and it was then that Lady Radclyffe sent for me to come and make my home with her. I was her only living relation. The other inmate of the house was Dennis Radclyffe, her husband's nephew. I have always called him cousin, but of course he is really nothing of the kind. Aunt Lucy always said openly that she intended to leave her money, with the exception of a small provision for me, to Dennis. It was Radclyffe money, she said, and it ought to go to a Radclyffe. However, when Dennis was twenty-two, she quarrelled violently with him – over some debts that he had run up, I think. When she died, a year later, I was astonished to find that she had made a will leaving all her money to me. It was, I know, a great blow to Dennis, and I felt very badly about it. I would have given him the money if he would have taken it, but it seems that kind of thing can't be done. However, as soon as I was twenty-one, I made a will leaving it all to him. That's the least I can do. So if I'm run over by a motor, Dennis will come into his own.'

‘Exactly,' said Tommy. ‘And when were you twenty-one, if I may ask the question?'

‘Just three weeks ago.'

‘Ah!' said Tommy. ‘Now will you give me fuller particulars of the members of your household at this minute?'

‘Servants – or – others?'

‘Both.'

‘The servants, as I say, have been with us some time. There is old Mrs Holloway, the cook, and her niece Rose, the kitchenmaid. Then there are two elderly housemaids, and Hannah who was my aunt's maid and who has always been devoted to me. The parlourmaid is called Esther Quant, and seems a very nice quiet girl. As for ourselves, there is Miss Logan, who was Aunt Lucy's companion, and who runs the house for me, and Captain Radclyffe – Dennis, you know, whom I told you about, and there is a girl called Mary Chilcott, an old school friend of mine who is staying with us.'

Tommy thought for a moment.

‘That all seems fairly clear and straightforward, Miss Hargreaves,' he said after a minute or two. ‘I take it that you have no special reason for attaching suspicion more to one person than another? You are only afraid it might prove to be – well – not a servant, shall we say?'

‘That's it exactly, Mr Blunt. I have honestly no idea who used that piece of brown paper. The handwriting was printed.'

‘There seems only one thing to be done,' said Tommy. ‘I must be on the spot.'

The girl looked at him inquiringly.

Tommy went on after a moment's thought. ‘I suggest that you prepare the way for the arrival of – say, Mr and Miss Van Dusen – American friends of yours. Will you be able to do that quite naturally?'

‘Oh, yes. There will be no difficulty at all. When will you come down – tomorrow – or the day after?'

‘Tomorrow, if you please. There is no time to waste.'

‘That is settled then.'

The girl rose and held out her hand.

‘One thing, Miss Hargreaves, not a word, mind, to anyone – anyone at all, that we are not what we seem.'

‘What do you think of it, Tuppence?' he asked, when he returned from showing the visitor out.

‘I don't like it,' said Tuppence decidedly. ‘Especially I don't like the chocolates having so little arsenic in them.'

‘What
do
you mean?'

‘Don't you see? All those chocolates being sent round the neighbour-hood were a blind. To establish the idea of a local maniac. Then, when the girl was really poisoned, it would be thought to be the same thing. You see, but for a stroke of luck, no one would ever have guessed that the chocolates were actually sent by someone in the house itself.'

‘That was a stroke of luck. You're right. You think it's a deliberate plot against the girl herself?'

‘I'm afraid so. I remember reading about old Lady Radclyffe's will. That girl has come into a terrific lot of money.'

‘Yes, and she came of age and made a will three weeks ago. It looks bad – for Dennis Radclyffe. He gains by her death.'

Tuppence nodded.

‘The worst of it is – that she thinks so too! That's why she won't have the police called in. Already she suspects him. And she must be more than half in love with him to act as she has done.'

‘In that case,' said Tommy thoughtfully, ‘why the devil doesn't he marry her? Much simpler and safer.'

Tuppence stared at him.

‘You've said a mouthful,' she observed. ‘Oh, boy! I'm getting ready to be Miss Van Dusen, you observe.'

‘Why rush to crime, when there is a lawful means near at hand?'

Tuppence reflected for a minute or two.

‘I've got it,' she announced. ‘Clearly he must have married a barmaid whilst at Oxford. Origin of the quarrel with his aunt. That explains everything.'

‘Then why not send the poisoned sweets to the barmaid?' suggested Tommy. ‘Much more practical. I wish you wouldn't jump to these wild conclusions, Tuppence.'

‘They're deductions,' said Tuppence, with a good deal of dignity. ‘This is your first
corrida
, my friend, but when you have been twenty minutes in the arena –'

Tommy flung the office cushion at her.

‘Tuppence, I say, Tuppence, come here.'

It was breakfast time the next morning. Tuppence hurried out of her bedroom and into the dining-room. Tommy was striding up and down, the open newspaper in his hand.

‘What's the matter?'

Tommy wheeled round, and shoved the paper into her hand, pointing to the headlines.

MYSTERIOUS POISONING CASE
DEATHS FROM FIG SANDWICHES

Tuppence read on. This mysterious outbreak of ptomaine poisoning had occurred at Thurnly Grange. The deaths so far reported were those of Miss Lois Hargreaves, the owner of the house, and the parlourmaid, Esther Quant. A Captain Radclyffe and a Miss Logan were reported to be seriously ill. The cause of the outbreak was supposed to be some fig paste used in sandwiches, since another lady, a Miss Chilcott, who had not partaken of these was reported to be quite well.

‘We must get down there at once,' said Tommy. ‘That girl! That perfectly ripping girl! Why the devil didn't I go straight down there with her yesterday?'

‘If you had,' said Tuppence, ‘you'd probably have eaten fig sandwiches too for tea, and then you'd have been dead. Come on, let's start at once. I see it says that Dennis Radclyffe is seriously ill also.'