Reading Help The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie. Ch.I-VI
"You're a cynic, Evie," said John, laughing. "Where's tea `
` to-day--inside or out?" `
` `
` "Out. Too fine a day to be cooped up in the house." `
` `
` "Come on then, you've done enough gardening for to-day. 'The `
` labourer is worthy of his hire', you know. Come and be `
` refreshed." `
` `
` "Well," said Miss Howard, drawing off her gardening gloves, "I'm `
` inclined to agree with you." `
` `
` She led the way round the house to where tea was spread under the `
` shade of a large sycamore. `
` `
` A figure rose from one of the basket chairs, and came a few steps `
` to meet us. `
` `
` "My wife, Hastings," said John. `
` `
` I shall never forget my first sight of Mary Cavendish. Her tall, `
` slender form, outlined against the bright light; the vivid sense `
` of slumbering fire that seemed to find expression only in those `
` wonderful tawny eyes of hers, remarkable eyes, different from any `
` other woman's that I have ever known; the intense power of `
` stillness she possessed, which nevertheless conveyed the `
` impression of a wild untamed spirit in an exquisitely civilised `
` body--all these things are burnt into my memory. I shall never `
` forget them. `
` `
` She greeted me with a few words of pleasant welcome in a low `
` clear voice, and I sank into a basket chair feeling distinctly `
` glad that I had accepted John's invitation. Mrs. Cavendish gave `
` me some tea, and her few quiet remarks heightened my first `
` impression of her as a thoroughly fascinating woman. An `
` appreciative listener is always stimulating, and I described, in `
` a humorous manner, certain incidents of my Convalescent Home, in `
` a way which, I flatter myself, greatly amused my hostess. John, `
` of course, good fellow though he is, could hardly be called a `
` brilliant conversationalist. `
` `
` At that moment a well remembered voice floated through the open `
` French window near at hand: `
` `
` "Then you'll write to the Princess after tea, Alfred? I'll write `
` to Lady Tadminster for the second day, myself. Or shall we wait `
` until we hear from the Princess? In case of a refusal, Lady `
` Tadminster might open it the first day, and Mrs. Crosbie the `
` second. Then there's the Duchess--about the school fete." `
` `
` There was the murmur of a man's voice, and then Mrs. Inglethorp's `
` rose in reply: `
` `
` "Yes, certainly. After tea will do quite well. You are so `
` thoughtful, Alfred dear." `
` `
` The French window swung open a little wider, and a handsome `
` white-haired old lady, with a somewhat masterful cast of `
` features, stepped out of it on to the lawn. A man followed her, `
` a suggestion of deference in his manner. `
` `
` Mrs. Inglethorp greeted me with effusion. `
` `
` "Why, if it isn't too delightful to see you again, Mr. Hastings, `
` after all these years. Alfred, darling, Mr. Hastings--my `
` husband." `
` `
` I looked with some curiosity at "Alfred darling". He certainly `
` struck a rather alien note. I did not wonder at John objecting `
` to his beard. It was one of the longest and blackest I have ever `
` seen. He wore gold-rimmed pince-nez, and had a curious `
` impassivity of feature. It struck me that he might look natural `
` on a stage, but was strangely out of place in real life. His `
` voice was rather deep and unctuous. He placed a wooden hand in `
` mine and said: `
` `
` "This is a pleasure, Mr. Hastings." Then, turning to his wife: `
` "Emily dearest, I think that cushion is a little damp." `
` `
` She beamed fondly on him, as he substituted another with every `
` demonstration of the tenderest care. Strange infatuation of an `
` otherwise sensible woman! `
` `
` With the presence of Mr. Inglethorp, a sense of constraint and `
` veiled hostility seemed to settle down upon the company. Miss `
` Howard, in particular, took no pains to conceal her feelings. `
` Mrs. Inglethorp, however, seemed to notice nothing unusual. Her `
` volubility, which I remembered of old, had lost nothing in the `
` intervening years, and she poured out a steady flood of `
` conversation, mainly on the subject of the forthcoming bazaar `
` which she was organizing and which was to take place shortly. `
` Occasionally she referred to her husband over a question of days `
` or dates. His watchful and attentive manner never varied. From `
` the very first I took a firm and rooted dislike to him, and I `
` flatter myself that my first judgments are usually fairly shrewd. `
` `
` Presently Mrs. Inglethorp turned to give some instructions about `
` letters to Evelyn Howard, and her husband addressed me in his `
` painstaking voice: `
` `
` "Is soldiering your regular profession, Mr. Hastings?" `
` `
` "No, before the war I was in Lloyd's." `
` `
` "And you will return there after it is over?" `
` `
` "Perhaps. Either that or a fresh start altogether." `
` `
` Mary Cavendish leant forward. `
` `
` "What would you really choose as a profession, if you could just `
` consult your inclination?" `
` `
` "Well, that depends." `
` `
` "No secret hobby?" she asked. "Tell me--you're drawn to `
` something? Every one is--usually something absurd." `
` `
` "You'll laugh at me." `
` `
` She smiled. `
` `
` "Perhaps." `
` `
` "Well, I've always had a secret hankering to be a detective!" `
` `
` "The real thing--Scotland Yard? Or Sherlock Holmes?" `
` `
` "Oh, Sherlock Holmes by all means. But really, seriously, I am `
` awfully drawn to it. I came across a man in Belgium once, a very `
` famous detective, and he quite inflamed me. He was a marvellous `
` little fellow. He used to say that all good detective work was a `
` mere matter of method. My system is based on his--though of `
` course I have progressed rather further. He was a funny little `
` man, a great dandy, but wonderfully clever." `
` `
` "Like a good detective story myself," remarked Miss Howard. `
` "Lots of nonsense written, though. Criminal discovered in last `
` chapter. Every one dumbfounded. Real crime--you'd know at `
` once." `
` `
` "There have been a great number of undiscovered crimes," I `
` argued. `
` `
` "Don't mean the police, but the people that are right in it. The `
` family. You couldn't really hoodwink them. They'd know." `
` `
` "Then," I said, much amused, "you think that if you were mixed up `
` in a crime, say a murder, you'd be able to spot the murderer `
` right off?" `
` `
` "Of course I should. Mightn't be able to prove it to a pack of `
` lawyers. But I'm certain I'd know. I'd feel it in my fingertips `
` if he came near me." `
` `
` "It might be a 'she,' " I suggested. `
` `
` "Might. But murder's a violent crime. Associate it more with a `
` man." `
` `
` "Not in a case of poisoning." Mrs. Cavendish's clear voice `
` startled me. "Dr. Bauerstein was saying yesterday that, owing to `
` the general ignorance of the more uncommon poisons among the `
` medical profession, there were probably countless cases of `
` poisoning quite unsuspected." `
` `
` "Why, Mary, what a gruesome conversation!" cried Mrs. Inglethorp. `
` "It makes me feel as if a goose were walking over my grave. Oh, `
` there's Cynthia!" `
` `
` A young girl in V. A. D. uniform ran lightly across the lawn. `
` `
` "Why, Cynthia, you are late to-day. This is Mr. Hastings--Miss `
` Murdoch." `
` `
` Cynthia Murdoch was a fresh-looking young creature, full of life `
` and vigour. She tossed off her little V. A. D. cap, and I `
` admired the great loose waves of her auburn hair, and the `
` smallness and whiteness of the hand she held out to claim her `
` tea. With dark eyes and eyelashes she would have been a beauty. `
` `
` She flung herself down on the ground beside John, and as I handed `
` her a plate of sandwiches she smiled up at me. `
` `
` "Sit down here on the grass, do. It's ever so much nicer." `
` `
` I dropped down obediently. `
` `
` "You work at Tadminster, don't you, Miss Murdoch?" `
` `
` She nodded. `
` `
` "For my sins." `
` `
` "Do they bully you, then?" I asked, smiling. `
` `
` "I should like to see them!" cried Cynthia with dignity. `
` `
` "I have got a cousin who is nursing," I remarked. "And she is `
` terrified of 'Sisters'." `
` `
`
` to-day--inside or out?" `
` `
` "Out. Too fine a day to be cooped up in the house." `
` `
` "Come on then, you've done enough gardening for to-day. 'The `
` labourer is worthy of his hire', you know. Come and be `
` refreshed." `
` `
` "Well," said Miss Howard, drawing off her gardening gloves, "I'm `
` inclined to agree with you." `
` `
` She led the way round the house to where tea was spread under the `
` shade of a large sycamore. `
` `
` A figure rose from one of the basket chairs, and came a few steps `
` to meet us. `
` `
` "My wife, Hastings," said John. `
` `
` I shall never forget my first sight of Mary Cavendish. Her tall, `
` slender form, outlined against the bright light; the vivid sense `
` of slumbering fire that seemed to find expression only in those `
` wonderful tawny eyes of hers, remarkable eyes, different from any `
` other woman's that I have ever known; the intense power of `
` stillness she possessed, which nevertheless conveyed the `
` impression of a wild untamed spirit in an exquisitely civilised `
` body--all these things are burnt into my memory. I shall never `
` forget them. `
` `
` She greeted me with a few words of pleasant welcome in a low `
` clear voice, and I sank into a basket chair feeling distinctly `
` glad that I had accepted John's invitation. Mrs. Cavendish gave `
` me some tea, and her few quiet remarks heightened my first `
` impression of her as a thoroughly fascinating woman. An `
` appreciative listener is always stimulating, and I described, in `
` a humorous manner, certain incidents of my Convalescent Home, in `
` a way which, I flatter myself, greatly amused my hostess. John, `
` of course, good fellow though he is, could hardly be called a `
` brilliant conversationalist. `
` `
` At that moment a well remembered voice floated through the open `
` French window near at hand: `
` `
` "Then you'll write to the Princess after tea, Alfred? I'll write `
` to Lady Tadminster for the second day, myself. Or shall we wait `
` until we hear from the Princess? In case of a refusal, Lady `
` Tadminster might open it the first day, and Mrs. Crosbie the `
` second. Then there's the Duchess--about the school fete." `
` `
` There was the murmur of a man's voice, and then Mrs. Inglethorp's `
` rose in reply: `
` `
` "Yes, certainly. After tea will do quite well. You are so `
` thoughtful, Alfred dear." `
` `
` The French window swung open a little wider, and a handsome `
` white-haired old lady, with a somewhat masterful cast of `
` features, stepped out of it on to the lawn. A man followed her, `
` a suggestion of deference in his manner. `
` `
` Mrs. Inglethorp greeted me with effusion. `
` `
` "Why, if it isn't too delightful to see you again, Mr. Hastings, `
` after all these years. Alfred, darling, Mr. Hastings--my `
` husband." `
` `
` I looked with some curiosity at "Alfred darling". He certainly `
` struck a rather alien note. I did not wonder at John objecting `
` to his beard. It was one of the longest and blackest I have ever `
` seen. He wore gold-rimmed pince-nez, and had a curious `
` impassivity of feature. It struck me that he might look natural `
` on a stage, but was strangely out of place in real life. His `
` voice was rather deep and unctuous. He placed a wooden hand in `
` mine and said: `
` `
` "This is a pleasure, Mr. Hastings." Then, turning to his wife: `
` "Emily dearest, I think that cushion is a little damp." `
` `
` She beamed fondly on him, as he substituted another with every `
` demonstration of the tenderest care. Strange infatuation of an `
` otherwise sensible woman! `
` `
` With the presence of Mr. Inglethorp, a sense of constraint and `
` veiled hostility seemed to settle down upon the company. Miss `
` Howard, in particular, took no pains to conceal her feelings. `
` Mrs. Inglethorp, however, seemed to notice nothing unusual. Her `
` volubility, which I remembered of old, had lost nothing in the `
` intervening years, and she poured out a steady flood of `
` conversation, mainly on the subject of the forthcoming bazaar `
` which she was organizing and which was to take place shortly. `
` Occasionally she referred to her husband over a question of days `
` or dates. His watchful and attentive manner never varied. From `
` the very first I took a firm and rooted dislike to him, and I `
` flatter myself that my first judgments are usually fairly shrewd. `
` `
` Presently Mrs. Inglethorp turned to give some instructions about `
` letters to Evelyn Howard, and her husband addressed me in his `
` painstaking voice: `
` `
` "Is soldiering your regular profession, Mr. Hastings?" `
` `
` "No, before the war I was in Lloyd's." `
` `
` "And you will return there after it is over?" `
` `
` "Perhaps. Either that or a fresh start altogether." `
` `
` Mary Cavendish leant forward. `
` `
` "What would you really choose as a profession, if you could just `
` consult your inclination?" `
` `
` "Well, that depends." `
` `
` "No secret hobby?" she asked. "Tell me--you're drawn to `
` something? Every one is--usually something absurd." `
` `
` "You'll laugh at me." `
` `
` She smiled. `
` `
` "Perhaps." `
` `
` "Well, I've always had a secret hankering to be a detective!" `
` `
` "The real thing--Scotland Yard? Or Sherlock Holmes?" `
` `
` "Oh, Sherlock Holmes by all means. But really, seriously, I am `
` awfully drawn to it. I came across a man in Belgium once, a very `
` famous detective, and he quite inflamed me. He was a marvellous `
` little fellow. He used to say that all good detective work was a `
` mere matter of method. My system is based on his--though of `
` course I have progressed rather further. He was a funny little `
` man, a great dandy, but wonderfully clever." `
` `
` "Like a good detective story myself," remarked Miss Howard. `
` "Lots of nonsense written, though. Criminal discovered in last `
` chapter. Every one dumbfounded. Real crime--you'd know at `
` once." `
` `
` "There have been a great number of undiscovered crimes," I `
` argued. `
` `
` "Don't mean the police, but the people that are right in it. The `
` family. You couldn't really hoodwink them. They'd know." `
` `
` "Then," I said, much amused, "you think that if you were mixed up `
` in a crime, say a murder, you'd be able to spot the murderer `
` right off?" `
` `
` "Of course I should. Mightn't be able to prove it to a pack of `
` lawyers. But I'm certain I'd know. I'd feel it in my fingertips `
` if he came near me." `
` `
` "It might be a 'she,' " I suggested. `
` `
` "Might. But murder's a violent crime. Associate it more with a `
` man." `
` `
` "Not in a case of poisoning." Mrs. Cavendish's clear voice `
` startled me. "Dr. Bauerstein was saying yesterday that, owing to `
` the general ignorance of the more uncommon poisons among the `
` medical profession, there were probably countless cases of `
` poisoning quite unsuspected." `
` `
` "Why, Mary, what a gruesome conversation!" cried Mrs. Inglethorp. `
` "It makes me feel as if a goose were walking over my grave. Oh, `
` there's Cynthia!" `
` `
` A young girl in V. A. D. uniform ran lightly across the lawn. `
` `
` "Why, Cynthia, you are late to-day. This is Mr. Hastings--Miss `
` Murdoch." `
` `
` Cynthia Murdoch was a fresh-looking young creature, full of life `
` and vigour. She tossed off her little V. A. D. cap, and I `
` admired the great loose waves of her auburn hair, and the `
` smallness and whiteness of the hand she held out to claim her `
` tea. With dark eyes and eyelashes she would have been a beauty. `
` `
` She flung herself down on the ground beside John, and as I handed `
` her a plate of sandwiches she smiled up at me. `
` `
` "Sit down here on the grass, do. It's ever so much nicer." `
` `
` I dropped down obediently. `
` `
` "You work at Tadminster, don't you, Miss Murdoch?" `
` `
` She nodded. `
` `
` "For my sins." `
` `
` "Do they bully you, then?" I asked, smiling. `
` `
` "I should like to see them!" cried Cynthia with dignity. `
` `
` "I have got a cousin who is nursing," I remarked. "And she is `
` terrified of 'Sisters'." `
` `
`