PENGUIN READERS Stories of Detection and Mystery Agatha Christie and OthersStories of Detection and Mystery Level 5 Selected and retold by E. J. H. Morris and D. J. Mortimer Series Editors: Andy Hopkins and Jocelyn PotterPeart Edcstion Lied ‘antosh Gx Halon, Bex M20 2: Eng sod Amoced Companies tought the wok ISBN. 971405862554 ct pba he Langman Spied Engh Sass 5 Ft publ nthe Longman Fon Serie 193 "Ti napa Gi pled 1997 ‘engin Boks eon paid 1959 "Thi ein pused 208, as790868 ‘Wet rc th loving fe pemison wo repode ingen of copyright neal ator? tent on bebe The Rol ia Fund for" Ble Co andthe loa Ma by GK. Chetenon om The mee of Fy Bon abo ages “The Pan ubing Grp Phe Cog’ by Agta Csi om The Lis sy (Ux oe) copy © Agha Chie Milowan 1934 and Wines fhe Prsesn ed Othe Seni {US} copyih © Agu Chae Mallow 1924 ston apes on eal of Cher Gorn ‘Gk fn The Hee (apie "An Unlesot Mant) by ye Hate om Te Be Dae Sito Cl Hpbi Faber Faber ed Fost & Ca Leh fr Te Hoodoo Theat? "Snide "The Unc Teste) by Eliot ‘Donne NJ Rane fr The Mes UM Ras Soe Cole ho Svc pushed by Edel Aol ath ges on “eal M Youngman Carer er Fay Ai by Margery Alinghi Els Por “The Ca ofthe Thing Tht Whiner by Dean Whey om Cen, Galan Ch ‘Ten copyright © Penguin Books Lid 1999 “Ti ein opie Peanan acon Le 2008 “Thpeat by Gopi Ll Hong Kong "Pied in China ‘SwTC/08 A ila sen a spin may ep sd ‘eed pm ad af ony tn, leon mecha png, ening aig wi he (pore pom fe Pen -otaned by Person Eveon Ln scan wh ‘Pega Boos Ld, bath compe being sabres of Peon Pe Tacs compe ao he er rae athe engin Render es plese wee our eel ‘eanon Longino or engin Reads Marking Deptt, Pon Eabeon, _Edburgh Gate How Ener CMZ IE Eagland Contents Introduction ‘The Blue Cross G. K. Chesterton Philomel Cottage Agatha Christie ‘An Unpleasant Man Cyril Hare ‘The Unlucky Theatre Elliott ©’Donnell ‘The Mezzotint M. R. James Family Affzir Margery Allingham ‘The Invisitle Man G. K. Chestertos ‘The Case of the Thing That ‘Whimpered Dennis Wheatley Activities page 19 8 58 70 110,Iniroduction ‘The unimportant Father Brown, who stood back, looking at the ground, said quietly: Hes nobody bein up and down stairs, then, since the snow ‘began to fll?” ‘Nobody has been here, sit. You can believe me} said the oficial with authority “Then what is that? said the priest, and looked hard at the ground. There was no doubt that down the middle ofthe entrance guarded by the doorkeeper, actually between his stretched legs, ran a pattern of grey _footprints stamped on the white snow. Everyone loves a mystery. A man goes into a building. The only entrance is carefully watched by four other men. They all say that they have seen nobody going in or out, But the first man has been murdered and his body has disappeared — and there are footprints in the snow. In the second half of the 19% century there was no radio, no television, and no cinema. There were theatres, where you could see plays, hear music, and enjoy entertainment of all kinds, But in their homes, people with the time and money to relax (and most people had neither of these) spent their evenings playing simple games, making music, and reading, Following the ‘growth in popular education, more and more people were able ‘to read, and there was a great thirst for interesting and exciting ‘reading material. Books were expensive, so a number of weekly and monthly magazines were produced, in which short stories and chapters of longer novels were printed for the eager readers. “Many of the great writers of the time, including Charles Dickens and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, saw their works printed in parts ‘in these magazines. One of the most famous of these, the Strand “Magazine, began in 1891 and continued until 1950. It included vfiction by the most famous writers of the time. “Towards the end of the 19 century, a form of story gradually developed which became enormously popular. These stories ‘offered a mystery, usually 2 crime, often a murder. But the ‘circumstances were strange, and readers were not told all the facts, ‘immediately. Which of the many suspects was the killer? How ‘was the man ~ or woman ~ killed inside a locked room? How did he die, when there were no wounds on the body? Of course, ‘the story contained clues to the answers to all the questions in the story, and in the final pages the case was solved and the mystery ‘explained. Readers could not get enough of these storics. ‘But who did the writer use to solve his (or her) mysteries? At first, it was usually a police detective. But some writers were not {familiar with police work. Private detectives, who could work in ‘their own way, and who could be cleverer than the police, were often the answer. The most famous of these detectives was, of course, Sherlock Holmes, whose cases appeared for many years in the Strand Magazine. In the frst half of the 20% century, the crime mystery novel and short story developed rapidly. In Britain and in the US writers produced them in large numbers. In the US shese stories were enormously popular and hundreds of excellent mystery novels were written. Philip Marlowe, Raymond Chandler’ ‘private eye’, as private detectives were called in the US, is a hard man who carries a gun. Perry Mason is the defence lawyer who never loses a case in an enormous number of excellent mysteries by Erle Stanley Gardner; and the master of them all, Ellery Queer, is a writer ard the son of a New York police inspector. There were soon ‘derectives’ of every kind: policemen, private detectives, lawyers, writers, journalists, even priests, “This collection of stories includes early stories by some of the most famous British writers of the early 20® century. Most of them are crime mysteries, but two are ghost stories. Ghosts have been part of our culture since before Roman times. From. the plays of Shakespeare to the novels of Dickens, ghosts play important roles in our literature. In Victorian times many people, even well educated and leading figures in society believed in the ‘existence of ghosts and spirits. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, author of the Sherlock Holmes stories, firmly believed that the spirits of the dead existed in another world, close to our own, and could be contacted. lot of people made money at that time by pretending to contact the dead friends and relations of wealthy people. Ghost stories were very popular. It was great fun to gather round a fire in a dark mom and listen to somebody reading a frightening ghost story. In these stories, an explana:ion of the mystery was not needed Ghosts could make their own rules. It ‘was enough to send the listeners off to bed looking nervously over their shoulders into the darkness, ‘One of the earliest writers in this collection is Gilbert Keith Chesterton (1874-1936). He was an English writer who produced thousands of poems and stories on a wide variety of subjects. Today he is best remembered for his mystery and detective stories. Two of them are in this collection: ‘The Blue Cros’ and ‘The Invisible Man’. His detectives were Valentin, head of the Paris police, and Father Brown, a small, simple, very ordinary, very polite priest from a little English village. But Father Brown solves the mysteries, thanks to the understanding of human nature and human weaknesses that he has asa result of his ‘work as a priest. G. K. Chesterton wrote forty-eight Father Brown, stories between 1911 and 1935 and chey were very popular. ‘The most famous of these authors must be Agitha Christie, the ‘Queen of Crime’ (1890-1976). She wrote eighty crime novels and collections of short stories, as well as several plays. wm“Almost all her stories have been filmed for the cinema and television, and her books have been translated into almest every Janguage on earth. One of her plays, The Mousetrap, opened in a London theatre in 1952 and is still being performed, which makes it the longest-running play in theatre history. Agatha Christie created several detectives. Perhaps the best known is Hercule Poirot, formerly chief of the Belgian police force, who has retired to be a private detective in London, By the careful use of his “grey cells’ (that is, his brain), he solves the most complicated cases, and his friend, the poor police inspector Japp, can only be amazed.The other ‘detective’ is Miss Marple, a sweet litle old lady ‘from a small English country village. She too beats the police in solving murders; she does it by her deep understanding of human nature learned from the people of her village. Comparisons with Chesterton’ Valentin and Father Brown are easily made. ‘However, the story in this book, Philomel Cottage’, is unusual ‘ecause it does not feature a detective or a group of suspects, ‘but tells the story fom the point of view of the person who, we discover, is being threatened with death. Cyril Hare (1900-1958) is the pen name of Alfred Alexander Gordon Clark He was a lawyer and judge as well as a mystery ‘writer, and his stories come directly from his knowledge of -ctiminals and the law. He wrote nine books and several fine short stories. In‘An Unpleasant Man’, the policeman notices something ‘that seems unimportant, but is found to be very important in solving the murder mystery. Elliott O'Donnell (1872-1965) had a lifelong interest in ghosts and unexplained everits. He produced several serious books on ‘the subject. In his strange short story, “The Unlucky Theatre’, there are no explanations, only some very ghostly happenings in an old London theatre Montague Rhodes James (1862-1936) was a respected ‘historian and novelist who also wrote four collections of ghost vu stories, about forty stories in all. He was head of King’s College, Cambridge, and later of Eton, a famous English school. Many of his ghost stories were set in colleges and cathedrals and his characters were usually the quiet, well-educated people that you find in these places: He is often called the ‘Father of the ‘Modern Ghost Story’, and some of the stories that he wrote are among the best known in the English language. The setting for “The Mezzotint’ seems very ordinary — a man buying a picture for a university collection. But the writer suddenly introduces unexplained and frightening events. The end of the story offers an answer to the puzzle, but not for the events themselves. Victorians had a special love of stories about pictures which changed or moved (as in The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde (1890)) ‘and this is a typical example. ‘Margery Allingham (1904~1966) is the most modern of the ‘writers in this collection. She was a social historian as well as a writer of mystery novels. Her detective is called Albert Campion and he appears in many of her novels and short stories. Like Chesterton's Father Brown and Agatha Christie’ Miss Marple, hhe appears quiet and rather ordinary, but he has a sharp brain and soon sees the surprising explanation for the myscery in ‘Family Affair, in which no crime is committed at al. Dennis Wheatley (1897-1977) wrote many types of books, including mystery and crime stories. His most famous books are oon the subject of magic and people who do the devil’s work. “The Case of the Thing That Whimpered’ appears at first to be another ghost story, especially as one of the main characters is a ‘man who has ‘spent his life in the study of ghosts and spirits’. But the reasons for the violent attacks on people in this story, and the ‘mysterious noises heard in the old storchouse, belong to a more familiar world,‘The Blue Cross G. K. Chesterton Early one morning the ‘boat arrived at Harwich and from it poured a crowd of travellers. Among them the man that we must follow did not look out of place in any way ~ nor did he wish to. ‘There was nothing out of the ordinary about him, except a stight difference between the relaxed look of his holiday clothes and the rather serious expression on his face. He was wearing a pale grey coat, a white shirt, and a silver hat. His thin face was dark in comparison and ended in a short black beard that looked rather Spanish, He was smoking. No one would have thought that the grey coat hid ¢ loaded gun, that the pocket of his white shiet held a police card, or that the hat covered one of the most powerful brains in Eurcpe. For this was Valentin himself, the head of the Paris police ard the most famous detective in the world; and he ‘was coming fiom Brussels to London to make the greatest arrest of the century. Flambeau was in England. The police of three countries had tracked the great criminal at last from Ghent to Brussels, from. Brussels to the Hook of Holland; and it was thought that he ‘would make use of the unfamiliarity and confusion of the international meeting of priests which was then taking place in London, Probably he would travel as some unimportant clerk or ‘secretary connected with it; but, of course, Valentin could not be certain, Nobody could be certain about Flambeau. It is many years now since this great criminal, Flambeau, suddenly stopped causing trouble; and when he stopped there was ‘elief around the world. In his best days (I mean, of course, his worst) Flambeau was an internationally known figure. Almost ‘every morning the daily papers announced that he had escaped punishment for one unbelievable crime by breaking the law a 1second time. He was a Frenchman of great strength, size and daring, and the wildest stories were told of the amusing uses that ‘he made of his physical abilities: how he turned a judge upside down and stood him on his head, to clear his mind’; how he ran ‘down the street with a policeman under each arm. But it must be said of him that his unusual physical strength was generally ‘employed in bloodless ways; his crimes were chiefly those of clever robberies. It was he who ran the great Tyrolean Milk ‘Company in London, with no cows, no delivery vehicle, and no smilk, but with more than a thousand customers. He did this by ‘the simple operation of moving the little milk cans outside ‘people's doors to the doors of his own customers. Many of his ‘crimes were extremely simple. It is said that he once repainted all ‘the house numbers ina street in the middle of the night jus to lead “one traveller into a trap. It is quite certain that he invented a public letterbox which could be moved from place to place. This he put up in quiet corners of the town in the hope that a stranger might drop a cheque or bank note into it. Lastly, he was known to be ‘very quick and active; in spite of his large size, he could jump as ‘well as any insect and hide in the treetops like a monkey. For this reason the great Valentin, when he set out to find Flambeau, knew ‘very well that his adventures would not end when he had found him, ‘But how would he find him? The great Valentin still did not have a plan, ‘There vas one thing about himself which Flambeau could not change, whatever he did to his appearance, and that was his unusual height. If Valentin’ quick eye had seen a tall apple seller, a tall soldier, or even a fairly tall woman, he might have arrested them immediately. But just as a lion cannot pretend to be a mouse, so there was nobody now on his train who could be Flambeau dressed as someone else. Valentin had already made certain that he was not among the people on the boat; and only 2 six other people had got on the train at Harwich or during the journey. There was a short railway official travelling up to London, three fairly short farmers picked up two stations later, cone very short old lady going up from a small own in Essex, and a very short Catholic priest going up from an Essex village, When. it came to this lst passenger, Valentin gave up looking and almost laughed. The little priest had a round, dull face; he had eyes as empty as the North Sea; he had several packages wrapped in. brown paper, which he was quite unable to hold without dropping one. The meeting of priests in London must have Drought out of their quiet villages many similar creatures who seemed blind and helpless, like underground animals dug out of the earth, Even Valentin, who had no love of priests felt sorry for this one. He had a large, worn suitcase, which kept falling on the floor. He explained to everybody with a kind of foolish simplicity that he had to be careful, because he had something made of real silver ‘with blue stones’ in one of his brown-paper packages. ‘Watching the priest's confusion continued to amuse the Frenchman until this simple man got out (somehow) at Stratford. with all his packages, and came back for his suitcase. When he returned for this, Valentin even had the good nature to warn him. not to take care of his silver by telling everybody about it. But whoever he talked to, Valentin watched for someone else: he looked out for anyone, rich or poor, male or female, who was at least six feet tall; for Flambeau was four inches above this height. He got off the train in central London, though, quite sure that he had not missed the criminal so far. When he had been to Scotland Yard* to arrange for help if it was needed, he went for a Jong walk in the streets of London. As he was walking in the streets and squares beyond Victoria, he stopped suddenly. He was “* Scodand Yar: the headquarters ofthe Criminal Investigation Deparunent ‘of London’ police force.in a quiet, attractive square, very typical of London. The tall, lat houses looked both expensive and empty; the gardens in the centre looked as deserted as a green Pacific island. One of the four sides of the square was much higher than the rest, like a stage; and the line of this side was broken by a restaurant. The restaurant stood specially high above the street, and some steps ran up from the street to the front door. Valentin stood and smoked in front of the yellow-white curtains and studied them fora long time. ‘Aristide Valentin was 2 thinking man. All his wonderful successes had been gained by slow, patient reasoning, by clear and ordinary French thought. Bue because Valentin understood reason, he understood its limits. Only a man who knows nothing, about cars talks of driving without petrol; only a man who knows nothing of reason talks of reasoning without any hard facts to start with. Flambeau had been missed at Harwich; and if he was in London at all, he might be anything from a tall beggar sleeping in one of the parks to an employee of the Metropole Hotel. ‘When he lacked any such certain knowledge, Valentin had a view and a method of his own. In such cases he trusted in the unexpected. In such cases, when. reasoning was no use to him, he coldly and carefully looked for the unreasonable. Instead of going to the right places ~ banks, police stations, meeting places ~ he went to the wrong places; he knocked at every empty house, turned down every little side street, walked up every path. He defended this strange course of action quite reasonably. He said that if he had any facts about the criminal’s movements to guide him, this was the worst way; but if he had no facts at all, it was the best. There was just the chance that anything unusual which caught the eye of the hunter might be the same that had caught the eye of the hunted. A man must begin somewhere, and it might as well be just where another man, might stop. Something about the steps leading up to the shop, something, about the quiet and rather unusual appearance of the restaurant, gave the detective an idea and made him decide to act without a ‘plan, He went up the steps, sat down by the window and asked for a cup of black coffee: Until his coffee came, he sat thinking. about Flambeau. The criminal always had the advantage; he could make his plans and act. The detective could only wait and hope that he would make a mistake. ‘Valentin lifted his coffee cup to his lips slowly and put it down ‘very quickly. He had pat salt in it. He looked at the container ‘from which the white powder had come. It was certainly a sugar ‘bowl. Why had they put salt in ie? He looked around for a salt container. Yes, there were two which were quite full. Perhaps there was something unusual about what was in them, too. He tasted it. It was sugar. Then he looked round at the restaurant with, new interest, to see if there were any other signs of that strange artistic taste which puts sugar in the salt containers and salt in the ‘sugar bowls. Except for a strange mark of some dark liquid on ‘one of the white walls, the whole place appeared neat, cheerful and ordinary. He rang the bell for the waiter ‘When the waiter hurried up to him, his hair uncombed and his eyes rather tired at that early hour, the detective asked him to taste the sugar and sce ifit was equal to the high standards of the ‘restaurant, The result was that the waiter suddenly woke up. "Do you play this fine joke on people every morning?” ‘inquired Valentin. ‘Do you never grow tired of the joke of changing the salt and the sugar?” ‘When it became clear to the waiter what Valentin meant, he -explained that the restaurant certainly had no such intention; it ‘must be a strange mistake. He picked up the sugar bowl and looked at it; he picked up the salt container and looked at that, hhis face growing more and more confused. At last he quickly -excused himself, hurried away, and returned in a few seconds 5with the owner of the place. The owner also examined the sugar bowl and then the silt container; the owner also looked confused Suddenly the waiter started to speak with a rush of words. “T think; he said eagerly,‘I think it was those two priests’ “What two priess?" “The two priests said the waiter,'that threw soup at the wall’ “Threw soup at the wall?” repeated Valentin. “Yes, yes; said the waiter with excitement and pointed to the large brown mark cn the white wall;‘threw it over there on the wall? ‘Valentin looked questioningly at the restaurant owner. “Yes, sir’ he said, its quite true, although I don’t suppose it has anything to do with the sugar and salt. Two priests came in and drank soup here very early, as soon as we opened. They were both ‘very quiet, respectable people. One of them paid the bill and ‘went out; the other, who seemed much slower, was some minutes longer collecting his things together. He went at last. But the moment before he stepped into the street, he deliberately picked up his cup, which he had only half emptied, and threw the soup straight atthe wall. was in the back room myself, and so was the ‘waiter; so I could only rush out in time to find the soup running down the wall and the shop empty. It didn't do any particular damage, but it was a very rude and surprising thing for a priest to do, and I tried to catch the men in the street. They were too far ‘off though; I only noticed that they went round the corner into Carstairs Street? The detective was on his feet, with his hat on his head and his stick in his hand, Ke paid his bill, closed the glass doors loudly ‘behind him, and was soon hurrying round the corner into the ‘next street. It was fortunate that even in such moments of excitement his ‘eye was cool and quick. Something in a shop window went by ‘him like a flash, but he went back to look at it. It was a fruit and 6 ‘vegetable shop, and the goods were arranged in the open air with tickets on them plainly showing their names and prices. Right in the front were two piles, one of oranges and the other of nuts. On the pile of nuts lay a ticket on which was written clearly: ‘Best cotanges, two a penny’ Oni the oranges was the equally clear and exact description: ‘Finest nuts, four pence a pound’ Valentin looked at these two tickets and thought that he had experienced this kind of humour before, and that he had done so rather recently. He drew the attention of the red-faced shopkeeper, who seemed in a bad temper and was looking up and down the street, to the mistake in his advertisements, The shopkeeper said nothing, but quickly put each card into its proper place. The detective leaned on his walking stick and continued to look closely at the shop. At last he said, Please excuse me, my good sir, but I would like to ask you a question which may sound rather strange! The red-faced shopkeeper looked at him threateningly, but the detective continued to lean on his walking stick. ‘Why are two ‘tickets wrongly placed in a fruit shop’ he went on, ‘ike a priests that that has come to London for a holiday? Or, in case I do not smake myself clear, what is the connection between the idea of nuts marked as oranges and the idea of two priests, one tall and the other short?” The eyes of the shopkeeper stood out of his head. For a moment he really seemed likely to attack the stranger. At last he said angrily,‘I don't know what you have to do with it. But you can tell chem from me that I'll knock their stupid heads off, even if they are priests, ifthey knock my apples over again’ “Really? asked the detective, with great sympathy. ‘Did they ‘knock your apples over?” “One of them dig; said the angry shopkeeper. He rolled them all over the street. T would have caught the fool if I hadn't had to pick them up’‘Which way did these priests go?” asked Valentin. “Up that second road on the left-hand side, and then across the square} said the other. “Thanks? said Valentin, and moved off quickly. On the other side of the second square he found a policeman, and said, This is ‘urgent. Have you seen two priests?” ‘The policeman began to laugh heavily.‘I have, sir, and if you ‘want my opinion, one of them was drunk. He stood in the middle of the road so confused that~” “Which way did they go?’ interrupted Valentin, “They took one of those yellow buses over there; answered the ‘man;"the ones that go to Hampstead’ Valentin produced his official card and said very rapidly, ‘Call ‘evo of your men to come with me to follow these people? In 2 minute and a half the French detective was joined on the opposite side of the road by an inspector and a policeman i plain. clothes, “Well, sit began the inspector,‘and what may?” ‘Valentin pointed suddenly with his stick. T'l tell you on the top of that bus; he said, and ran into the busy traffic. When all three sank, breathing heavily, onto the top seats of the yellow bus, the inspector said:"We could go four times as quickly in a taxi? “Quite true? replied the leader calmly if we had an idea of where we were going? “Well, where are you going?” asked the other. ‘Valentin smoked his cigarette thoughtfully for a few seconds. ‘Then he said, ‘If you know what a man’s doing, get in front of hhim. But if you warit to guess what he’s doing, keep behind him. Wander when he wanders; stop when he stops; travel as slowly as he does. Then you can see what he saw, and you can act as he acted. All we can do is to watch very carefully for something ‘unusual’ “What sort of unusual thing do you mean? asked the inspector. § “Any sort of unusual thing? answered Valentin, and became silent. ‘The yellow bus went slowly up the northern roads for what seemed like hours. The great detective gave no further explanation, and perhaps the other two felt a silent and growing doubt about his purpose. Perhaps, also, they fele a silent and growing desire for lunch, for it was by now long past the normal lunch hour, and the long roads through the north of London seemed to stretch on and on. But even when the winter sun was, already beginning to set, the Parisian detective sill sat silent and ‘watchfil, looking out at the shops and houses that slid by on cither side. By the time that they had left Camden Town behind, the policemen were nearly asleep; at least they gave something. like a jump as Valentin suddenly stood up, struck each man on the shoulder, and shouted to the driver to stop. They hurried down the steps and into the road, without knowing why they were doing so, When they looked round for an explanation, they found Valentin pointing his finger in excitement towards a window on the left side of the road. It was a large window, forming part of the long front ef a hotel. It was, the part for eating in, and was marked ‘Restaurant’, and in the middle of the window was a big, black hole. “Our sign at last’ cried Valentin, waving his stick. ‘The place ‘with the broken window! “What window? What sign? asked the inspector. ‘Why, what ‘proof is there that this has anything to do with them? ‘Valentin almost broke his stick in anger. “Proof! he cried."Good heavens! The man is looking for proof! It is, of course, most unlikely that it has anything to do with ‘them. But what else can we do? Don't you see we must either follow cne wild possibility or else go home to bed?” He entered ‘the restaurant with a great deal of noise, followed by his ‘companions, and they were soon eating a late lunch at a little 9table, and looking at the broken glass from inside, Not that it was very informative to them even then. ‘You've had your window broken, I see’ Valentin said to the ‘waiter, as he paid the bill, “Yes, sin’ the waiter answered.‘A very strange thing that, sir? ‘Really? Tell us about it; said the detective. “Well, two gentlemen in black came in, said the waiter;‘two of those priests that are running around the city at the moment. ‘They had a cheap and quiet litte lunch, and one of them paid for it and went out. The other was just going out to join him when looked at the money he had given me and found that he had ‘paid me more than three times too much. “Here,” I said to the ‘pries: who was nearly out of the door, “you've paid too much.” “Oh’"he said, “have we?”"*Yes," I said, and I picked up the bill to ‘show him, Well, that was a real surprise’ “What do you mean?’ asked Valentin. “Well, I could have sworn that I'd put four shillings on that bill. ‘But now I saw quite clearly that I'd put fourteen shillings” “Well? cried Valentin, with burning eyes.‘And then?” “The priest at the door said quite calmly, “Sorry to confuse ‘your accounts, but it'll pay for the window" “What window?” I said. “The one I'm going to break,” he said, and threw a stone through the window? ‘The inspector said quietly, ‘Are these people completely crazy?” ‘The waiter continued, obviously enjoying his strange story: I ‘was 10 surprised for a second that I couldn't do anything, The ‘man marched out of the place and joined his friend just round ‘the corner, They went so quickly up Bullock Street that [ couldn't catch them? “Bullock Street? said the detective, and ran up that road as quickly as the strange pair that he was following. Their journey now took them up narrow, brick passages; 10 streets with few lights and even with few windows. The sun had set further and it was getting dark. It was not easy, even for the London policemen, to guess in what exact direction they were heading. But the inspector was fairly certain that in the end they ‘would reach some part of Hampstead Heath. Suddenly one gas- lit window broke the half-light, and Valentin stopped for a second in front of a small, brightly painted sweet shop. He thought for ‘moment and then went in; he stood among the bright colours of the shop with a serious expression on his face and chose some sweets with great care, He was clearly looking for an opportunity to ask some questions. But this was not necessary. A thin young woman in the shop had looked at him without interest; ut when she saw the door behind him blocked with the blue uniform of the inspector, her eyes seemed to wake up. “Oh; she said, ‘if you have come about the package, I've sent it off? “Package?” repeated Valentin. ‘I mean the package the gentleman left - the religious gentleman’ ‘Please, said Valentin, leaning forward cagerly, ‘tell us what happened exactly” “Well; sid the woman, a little doubtfally.‘the priests came in about half an hour ago and bought some sweets and talked a bit, ‘and then went off towards the Heath. But a second later, one of them ran back into the shop and said, “Have I left a package?” ‘Well, { looked everywhere and couldn't see one; so he said, “Never mind; but if you find it, please post it to this address,” and he left me the address and a shilling for my trouble. And then, though I thought I'd looked everywhere, I found he'd left a bbrown-paper package, so I posted it to the place he said. I can't remember the address now; it was somewhere in Westminster. But as the thing seemed so important, I thought perhaps the police had come about it? uw“So they have; said Valentin shortly. Is Hampstead Heath near here?” ‘Straight on for fifteen. minutes! said the woman, ‘and you'll come right out on the open ground? Valentin hurried out of the shop and began to run. The others followed him rather more slowly. ‘The street that they passed through was so narrow and shut in by shadows that when they suddenly came out into the open park and sky, they were surprised to find the evening still so light and clear, As he stood on the slope and looked across the valley, ‘Valentin saw what he was looking for. ‘Among the dark groups in the distance was one that was especially dark — two figures dressed as priests. Though they seemed as small as insects, Valentin could see that one of them was ‘much smaller than the other.TThe other was slightly bent, but was clearly well over six feet till. Valentin went forward, swinging his stick impatiently. By the tme he had shortened the distance and. increased the size of the two figures, he had noticed something ‘else; something which surprised him, but which he had somehow expected. Whoever the tall priest was, there could be no doubt ‘who the other one was. It was his friend from the Harwich train, the short little Essex priest whom he had warned about his brown-paper packages. ‘Now all this was reasonable enough. Valentin had learned from. his inquiries that morning that a Father Brown from Essex was bringing up a jewelled silver cross, an ancient object of great value, to show to some of the foreign priests a: their meeting in ‘London. This, without any doubt, was the silver cross ‘with blue stones’; and Father Brown was undoubtedly the simple little man ‘on the train, Now there was nothing surprising about the fact ‘that what Valentin had found out, Flambeau had also found cut; Flambeau found out everything. There was also nothing surprising in the fact that when Flambeau heard of a jeweled 12 cross, he would try to steal it; it was the most natural thing in the ‘world, And most certainly there was nothing surprising about the ‘fact that Flambeau would do as he wished with such a silly sheep as the man with the suitcase and the packages. He was the sort of sman whom anybody could lead on a string to the North Pole; it -was nor surprising that an actor like Flambeau, dressed as another priest, could lead him to Hampstead Heath. So far the crime ‘seemed clear enough; and while the detective pitied the priest for his helplessness, he thought less of Flambeau for choosing such a ‘simple, tusting person to deceive. But when Valentin thought of all that had happened in between, of all that had led him here, he could see no reason in it. What was the connection between the stealing of a jewelled silver cross fom a priest from Essex and the ‘throwing of soup at walls? And how were these connected with calling nuts oranges, or with paying for windows first and ‘breaking them afterwards? He had come to the end of his search; ‘but somehow he had missed the middle of it. He had found the criminal, but still could not understand how it had happened. ‘The two figures that they followed were moving like black flies across the top of a green hill. They were clearly in deep conversation, and pethaps did not notice where they were going; ‘but they were certainly going to the wilder and more silent heights of the Heath. As the policemen came nearer, they had to ‘hide behind trees and even to go along on their hands and knees 4in deep grass to remain invisible. By these means the hunters even came close enough to the priests to hear the sound of their discussion, but no word could be clearly heard and understood. except the word ‘reason’, which was spoken frequently in a high and almost childish voice. Once, over a sudden rise in the ground and in thick bushes, the detectives actually lost the two figures that they were following. They did not find the right path again for an anxious ten minutes, and then it led round the top of a great round hill overlooking a wide hollow of rich, empty sunset 2Bscenery. Under a tree in this beautiful but lonely spot was an old ‘wooden seat. On this seat sat the two priests still talking seriously to cach other. Valentin signalled silently to his followers and moved forward to hide behind big branching tree, where, hardly breathing, he heard the words of the strange priests for the first time. ‘After he had listened for a minute and a half, he experienced a terrible doubt. For the two priests were talking exactly like priests, talking calmly and knowledgeably about religion. The little Essex priest spoke more simply, with his round face turned to the brightening stars; the other talked with his face to the ground, as ifhe were not fit to look at them. But no more priest- like conversation could have been heard. The first he heard was the end of one of Father Brown's sentences, which was:'. .. what they really meant in the Middle ‘Ages by the heavens being unchanging and unchangeable? ‘The taller priest replied:‘Ah, yes, who can look up at those millions of worlds and not feel that there may well be wonderful ‘universes above us where reason is quite unreasonable?” Valentin behind his tree was tearing his fingernails with silent anger. He could almost hear the quiet laughter of the English detectives whom he had brought so far on a wild guess only to listen to the talk of two old priests. When he listened again, it was, again Father Brown who was speaking. ‘Look at those stars. Dont they look like diamonds? But don’t imagine that all that study of heavenly bodies would make the slightest difference to the reason and justice of behaviour. In fields of jewels, under hills cut from gold, you would still find a notice saying “You must not steal”? Valentin was just about to rise from his stiff and bent position and to move away as quietly as he could, but something in the silence of the tall priest made him stop until this man spoke. When at last he did speak, he said simply, his head still lowered 4 and his hands on his knees: Well, I still think that other worlds smay perhaps rise higher than our reason. The mystery of heaven e understood, and I myself can only bend my head in ‘Then, with his head still bent forward, and without the slightest change in expression, he added: ‘Just give me that cross ‘of yours, will you? We're all alone here, and I could pull you to pieces lke a child’ toy? ‘The completely unchanged voice and attitude added a strange violence to that shocking change of speech. But the lite priest only seemed to turn his head by the smallest degree. He seemed still to have a rather foolish face turned to the stars. Pethaps he had not understood. Or perhaps he had understood and sat frozen, with fear. “Yes! said the tall priest, in the same low voice and with his head stil lov, ‘yes, I am Flambeau.” ‘Then, ater a pause, he saids"Now, will you give mic dhat cross?” ‘No! said the other,and the word had a strange sound. Flambeau suddenly stopped pretending to be a priest. The great robber leaned back in his seat and laughed quietly, but for a Tong time. “No’ he cried; you won't give it to me, you simple fool. Shall tell you why you won't give it to me? Because I've got it already jn my pocket! ‘The small man from Essex turned towards him what seemed, din the half-light, to be a confused face and said carefully: ‘Are ~ are you sure?” Flambeau shouted with pleasure. ‘Really, you are amusing!” he cried: "Yes, you fool, I am quite ‘sure. I had the sense to make a copy of the real package, and now, my friend, you've got the copy, and I've got the jewel. An old wick, Father Brown ~a very old trick “Yes, suid Father Brown, and passed his hand through his hair 15in the same strange confused manner. Yes, 've heard of it before! ‘The great criminal leaned over to the litle country priest with a sort of sudden interest. “You have heard of it?’ he asked.’ Where have you heard of it?” ‘Well, I mustn’t tell you his name, of course; said the little man simply.‘He was a man who had come back to the Church after a life of crime. He lived very comfortably Zor about ewenty years fon copies of brown-paper packages. And so, you see, when I began to suspect you, I thought immedizcely of this poor man’s way of doing it? “Began to suspect me? repeated the criminal. Did you really have the sense to suspect me just because I brought you up to this lonely part of the Heath?” ‘No, no! said Brown, with a faint smile. “You see, I suspected you when we first met. It the shape of the gun showing under your coat’ ‘How? cried Flambeau, did you notice that? Its supposed to be invisible’ ‘Ob, one’ work, you know!’ said Father Brown. “When I was 4 priest in Hartlepool, T knew quite a number of people who always carried guns. So, as I suspected you from the start, | made sure that the cross would be safe. I'm affaid I watched you, you know. So I saw you change the packages. Then I changed them back again. And then I left the right one behind? ‘Left it behind?’ repeated Flambeau, and for the firs time there ‘was another note in his voice beside victory. “Well, it was like this? said the priest, speaking in the same simple way.‘ went back to the sweet shop and asked if Td left a package, and gave them a particular addres if it was found. Well, knew that I hadn't; but when I went away again I did, So instead of running after me with that valuable package, they have sent it by post toa friend of mine in Westminster: He added rather sadly: ‘Ilearned that, too, from a poor man in Hartlepool. He used to 16 do it witk handbags that he stole at railway stations, but he’ a good man now. One gets to know, you know! he added, rubbing his head. We can’t help it, being priests. People come and tell us these things? Flambeau pulled a brown-paper package out of his pocket and tore it open. There was nothing but paper and pencils inside. He jumped to his feet and cried:‘I don't believe you. I don’t believe that a simple fool like you could manage all that. I believe that ‘you've stil got the cross with you, and if you don't give it up ~ well, we're all alone, and I'l take it by force!” ‘No! said Father Brown simply, standing up too; ‘you won't take it by force. First, because I really haven't still got it. And, second, because we're not alone? Flambeau stopped in his step forward. ‘Behind that tree said Father Brown, pointing, ‘are two strong policemer and the greatest detective alive. How did they come here, do you ask? Well, I brought them, of course! We have to know about such things when we work among the criminal classes! Well, I wasn’t sure you were a thief, and it would not be right to charge one of our own priests. So I just tested you to see if anything would make you show yourself A man usually complains if he finds salt in his coffee; if he doesn't, he has some reason for keeping quiet. I changed the salt and sugar, and you kkept quiet. A man generally objects if his bill is three times too big. If he pays it, he has some reason for passing unnoticed, I changed your bill and you paid it. ‘Well! went on Father Brown, ‘as you weren't leaving any tracks for the police, of course somebody had to. At every place ‘we went to, I took care to do something that would get us talked about for che rest of the day: I didn't do much harm ~ a dirty wall, apples in the street, a broken window; but I saved the cross, as the cross will always be saved. It is in Westminster by now? “How on earth did you think of these things” cried Flambeau. 7‘The shadow of a smile crossed the round, simple face of his ‘opponent. “Oh, by being a foolish priest, T suppose? he said. ‘Have you never thought that a man who does almost nothing except listen to men talking about their crimes is likely to know a litle of human evil?” ‘And as he turned to collect his property, the three policemen came out from under the dark trees. Flambeau was an artist and a sportsman. He raised his hat to Valentin asa respectful greeting, “Do not raise your hat to me, my friend, said Valentin in a clear ‘voice. ‘Let us both raise our hats to our:master? ‘And they both stood for a moment with their hats in their ‘hands, while the little Essex priest looked around for his suitcase. 18 Philomel Cottage Agatha Christie “Goodbye, my love’ “Goodbye, dearest? ‘Alix Martin leaned over the small garden gate and watched the figure of her husband grow smaller as he walked down the road §n the direction of the village. ‘Soon he turned a bend and disappeared, but Alix still stayed in ‘the same position, with a dreamy, faraway look in her eyes. ‘Alix Martin was not beautiful. She was not even particularly ‘pretty, but there was a joy and softness in her face which her friends from the past would not have recognized. Alix had not had an easy life. For fifteen years, from the age of eighteen until she was thirty-three, she had had to look after herself (and for seven years of that time her sick mother as well). She had worked as a secretary, and she had been neat and businesslike. But the struggle had brought lines to her young face. Te was true that she had had a sort of love affair ~ with Dick ‘Windyford, another clerk. Although they had seemed to be just ‘good friends, Alix knew in her heart that he loved her. But Dick hhad to work hard in order to save enough money to send a younger brother to a good school. He could not think of marriage yet. ‘Then, suddenly, the girl was delivered fiom the dullness of her everyday life in the most surprising manner. A cousin died and left all her money, a few thousand pounds, to Alix. This gave Alix: freedom, an easier life and the ability to make her own decisions. Now she and Dick did not need to wait any longer to be married. ‘But Dick behaved strangely. He had never spoken directly to Alix of his love for her, and now he seemed to have less desire 19than ever to do so. He avoided her, and became silent and unhappy. Alix was quick to realize the truth, She had become a wealthy woman, and Dick’ pride would not allow him to ask her to be his wife, She liked him none the worse for it and was actually thinking about suggesting marriage herself, when the second surprising thing happened to her. She met Gerald Martin at a friend's house. He ll violently in love with her, and within a week he had asked he: to marry him. Alix, who had always considered herself calm and sensible, was completely swept off her feet. She had, by chance, found a way to excite Dick Windyford’s emotions. He had come to her almost speechless with anger. “The man’ a complete stranger to you! You know nothing about him!” “Tknow that I love him? “How can you know ~ in a week? ‘It doesn't take everyone eleven years to find out that they're in love with a girl, cried Alix angrily. His face went white. I've loved you ever since I met you. I thought that you felt the same about me? ‘Alix was truthful. thought so too! she admitted. But that was because I didn't know what real love was’ ‘Then Dick had exploded again, shouting first prayers and then threats — threats against the man who had taken his place. Alix was shocked to see how strong the feelings were of the man whom she had thought that she knew so well ‘As she leaned én the gate of the little house on this sunny morning, her thoughts went back to that conversation. She had been married for 2 month, and she was wonderfilly happy. But now and again there were moments of anxiety which darkened her perfect happiness. And the cause of that anxiety was Dick ‘Windyford. Three times since her marriage she had dreamed the 20 same dream. Although the place was different on each occasion, the main facts were always the same. She saw her husband lying dead and Dick Windyford standing over him, and she knew quite clearly that it was Dick who had struck him down. ‘But if chat was terrible, there was something more terrible still, although in the dream it seemed completely natural. She, Ali Martin, was glad that her husband was dead; she sretched out ¢gratefil hands to the murderer, and sometimes she thanked him. ‘The dream always ended in the same way, with herself held in Dick Windyford’s arms. She had said nothing about this dream to her ausband, but secretly it troubled her more than she liked to admit. Was it a warning ~ a warning against Dick Windyford? Alix was woken from her thoughts by the sharp sound of the telephone ringing in the house. She went inside and picked up the receiver. Suddenly she felt faint and put out a hard against the wall “Who did you say was speaking?” “Why, Alix, what's the matter with your voice? I hardly recognized it. It’s Dick? “Ob! said Alix."Oh! Where — where are you?” “At the Tiaveller’s Arms ~ that’s the right name, isn’t it? Or don’t you even know of the existence of your village inn? I'm on holiday and doing a bit of fishing here. Would you have any “objections ifI came to see you both this evening after dinner?” "No! said Alix sharply."You mustn't come? ‘There was a pause, and then Dick spoke again. ‘I beg your pardon; he said formally."Of course I won't trouble you~” ‘Alix interrupted quickly. He must think that her behaviour ‘was strange, and it was. “Lonly meant to say that we are ~ busy tonight; she explained, trying to make her voice sound as natural as possible. ‘Will you = ‘will you come to dinner tomorrow night?” aBut Dick had noticed the lack of warmth in her voice. “Thanks very much; he said, as formally as before, ‘but I may leave at any time. I'm expecting to be joined by a friend. Goodbye, Alix’ He paused, and then added quickly, with his old friendliness: ‘Best of luck to you, my dear? ‘Alix put the phone down with a feeling of relief. ‘He mustn't come here} she repeated to herself, He mustn't come here. Oh, what a fool I am to get into a state like this! But even so, I'm glad that he’s not coming? She picked up an old hat from a table and went out into the garden again, pausing to look up at the name which was cut into the stone above the front door: Philomel* Cottage. “Tes. a strange name, isn’t it? she had said to Gerald once before they were married. He had laughed. “You little town girl’ he had said lovingly.‘I don't believe that you've ever heard a nightingale. I'm glad that you haven't. Nightingales should only sing for lovers. We'll hear them together on a summer’ evening outside our own home! ‘And when Alix, standing in the doorway of their home, remembered how they had heard them, she smiled happily. Ie was Gerald who had found Philomel Cottage. He hed come +0 Alix full of excitement about it. He told her that he had found the perfect house for them ~ a real jewel of a place. And when ‘Alix had seen it she, too, fell in love with it It was true that it was, in rather a lonely position — it was two miles from the nearest village — but the house itself was wonderful. It was attractive 10 look at, and it had a comfortable bathroom, a good hot-water system, electric light and telephone. But then they had a great disappointment. Gerald found out that the owner, although a rich ‘man, would not rent it to them. He would only sell it. Gerald Martin had plenty of family money, but he was only + phulomel: the poetic name for te nightingale 2 able to use the income from it. He could lay his hands on no more than a thousand pounds. The owner wanted three thousand. But Alix, who had set her heart on the house, suddenly stepped in, She gave half of her money in order to buy the home. So Philomel Cottage had become their own, and Alix had not felt fora minute that she had made the wrong choice. It was true that servants did not like the loneliness of the country ~ actualy, at the moment they had none at all ~ but Alix, who kad had little home life before, thoroughly enjoyed cooking lovely meals and looking after the house. The garden, which was well stocked with the most beautiful flowers, was cated for by an old man from the village who came twice a week. ‘As she turned the corner of the house, Alix was surprised to see the old gardener busy in the flowerbeds. She was surprised because his days for work were Mondays and Fridays, and today was Wednesday. “What are you doing here, George?’ she asked, as she came towards him. “T thought that you'd be surprised. But there's a country show near here on Friday, so I said to myself that neither Mr Martin nor his good wife would mind if I came for once on a Wednesday instead of a Friday’ “That's quite all right} said Alix. ‘I hope that you'll enjoy yourself at the show? ‘Tintend to; said George simply. ‘But I did think, too, chat 'd see you before you went away t0 find out what you want me to do with the flower borders. You haven't any idea when you'll be back, I suppose?” “But I'm not going away? George looked at her in surprise.‘Aren't you going to London tomorrow?” "No. What gave you such an idea?* “I met master going down to the village yesterday. He told me 23that you were both going away to London tomorrow, and that it ‘was uncertain when you'd be back again! ‘Nonsense? said Alix, laughing, You must have misunderstood him? Just the same, it made her think about exactly what Gerald could have said for the old man to make such a strange mistake. Going to London? She never wanted to go to London again. “Thate London; she said suddenly and bitterly. ‘Ah!’ said George calmly.'I must have been mistaken somehow, bbut he said it quite plainly, it seemed to me. I'm glad that you're staying here. I don't approve of all this moving about, and I don’t like London at all. ve never needed to go there. Too many motor cars ~ that’s the trouble these days. As soon as people have got a ‘motor car, they can’t seem to stay still anywhere, Mr Ames, who used to have this cottage, was a nice peaceful gentleman until he bought one of those things. He hadn't had it a month before he pput this cottage up for sale, He'd spent a lot of money on it, t00, putting in electric light and things like that. “You'll never get ‘your money back,” I said to him, “But,” he said to me, “I'l get ‘wo thousand pounds for this house.” And he certainly did “He got three thousand, said Alix, smiling. “Two thousand, repeated George. ‘There was talk at the time about the amount that he wanted. ‘Te really was three thousand; said Alix. ‘Ladies never understand figures? said George firmly. ‘You're not going to tell me that Mr Ames asked you for three thousand?” “He didn’t ask me; said Alix;*he asked my husband’ George bent down again to his flowerbed. “The price was two thousand, he said with determination, ‘Alix did not argue with him any more. She moved across to one of the other beds and began to pick a bunch of flowers, ‘As she moved towards the house, Alix noticed a small, dark green object lying on the ground. She stopped and picked it up, 24 recognizing it as her husband's notebook. She opened it and locked rapidly through it with some amusement. Almost from the beginning of her married life with Gerald she had realized that, although he was quick and emotional, he was also unexpectedly neat and well organized. He demanded that his meals were served on time and always planned his day with great care. ‘As she looked through the notebook Alix smiled to see the entry for 14th May:'Marry Alix St Peter's 2.30’ She laughed, and turned the pages. Suddenly she stopped. “Wednesday, 18th June” ~ that’s today! In the space for that day, Gerald had written in his neat, exact ‘hand:'9 p.m. Nothing else. What did Gerald plan to do at 9 p.m.? “Alix thought about it. She smiled to herself as she realized that if this had been a detective story, the notebook would have ‘contained some unpleasart surprises. One of them would ccertainly have been the name of another woman. She turned ‘back the pages carelesly. There were dates, appointments, short notes on business matters, but only one woman's name ~ her ‘own, But as she slipped the book into her pocket and carried her flowers into the house, she felt a slight anxiety. She remembered ‘Dick Windyford’s words almost as though he were beside her ‘repeating them: "The man’s a complete stranger to you. You know ‘nothing about him? Ie was true. What did she know about him? After all, Gerald -was forty. In forty years there must have been other women in his tie Alix shook herself impatiently, She must not think like this. She had a more urgent matter to deal with. Ought she or ought she not to tell her husband that Dick Windyford had telephoned her? It was just possible that Gerald had already met him in the 25village. But in that case he would be sure to mention it to her ‘immediately on his return, and she could then safely tell him about the phone call. Fhe did not — what? Alix felt strong desire to say nothing about it. If she told him, he was sure to suggest that they should invite Dick Windyford to Philomel Cottage. Then she would have to ‘explain that Dick had asked if he could come, and that she had ‘made an excuse to prevent him. And when he asked her why she had done so, what could she say? Should she tell him her dream? ‘But he would only laugh ~ or, to make matters worse, he would see that she thought it was important. In the end, although she felt rather ashamed, Alix decided to say nothing, It was the first secret that she had ever kept from her husband, and she felt very uncomfortable about it. . “When she keard Gerald returning from the village at lunchtime, Alix hid her confusion by hurrying into the kitchen and pretending to be busy with the cooking. She realized immediately that Gerald had not seen Dick ‘Windyford. She was relieved, but she remained a little anxious because she had to prevent Gerald from learning what had happened. Tt was not until they had finished their simple evening meal and were sitting in the living room, with the windows open in order to let in the sweet night air and the smell of the flowers, that Alix remembered the notebook. “Here's something that you've been watering the flowers with, she said, and threw it to him, “I dropped it in the flowerbed, did I?" “Yes: know all your secrets now! ‘Not guilty’ said Gerald, shaking his head. “What about your secret business at nine o'clock tonight?” 26 “Oh, that . ..!’ He seemed surprised for a moment, and then he smiled as if he had had a particularly amusing thought. Its a meeting with a specially nice girl, Alix. She's got brown hair and ‘blue eyes and she's very like you. “I don’t understand; said Alix, pretending to be severe. You're avoiding the point? “No, I’m not.As a matter of fact, its a note to remind myself that I'm going to develop some photographs tonight, and I want ‘you to help me” Gerald Martin was very interested in photography and had an excellent, but rather old camera. He developed his photographs 4in a small room under the house, which he had fitted up for that ‘purpose. “And the developing must be done at nine o'clock exactly? said Ali, laughing. Gerald looked a little annoyed. “My dear girl? he said, ‘one should always plan a thing for a certain time. Then one does one’s work quickly and properly? Alix sat for a minute or two in silence, watching her husband. ‘He sat back in his chair smoking, with his dark head leaning back and the clear-cct lines of his face standing out against the dark ‘background. And suddenly Alix felt a wave of fear sweep over her, ‘50 that she cried out before she could stop herself: ‘Oh, Gerald, I ‘wish that I knew more about you!” Her husband looked at her in surprise. “But my dear Alix, you do know all about me. I've told you about when I was a boy in Northumberland, about my life in South Aftica, and about these last ten years in Canada which have ‘made me successful” “Oh, business!” said Alix, with a wave of her hand to show her lack of interest. Gerald laughed suddenly. ‘I know what you mean — love affairs. You women are all the same? 27‘Alix fel: her throat go dry, as she said nervously: “Well, but ‘there must have been — love affairs ~ ifT only knew.” ‘There was silence again for a minute or wo. Gerald Martin Jooked worried and undecided. When he spoke, he spoke seriously, without any sign of his former light-hearted manner. “Alix, do you think that it's wise to want to know so much? ‘Yes, there have been women in my life. FI said there were not, ‘you wouldn't believe me. But I can swear to you that not one of them was important to me? His voice was so sincere that Alix was comforted. “Are you satisfied, Alix” he asked with a smile. ‘What's made you think ofthis tonight especially?” ‘Alix got up and began to walk about the room. “Ob, I don’t know! she said, I've been feeling anxious all day? “That's strange? said Gerald in a low voice, as though he was speaking to himself."That’ very strange’ “Why is it strange?” ‘Oh, my dear girl, don’t turn on me like that. I only said that it was strange because as a rule you'te so happy and cheerful’ Alix forced herself to smile. ‘Everything’ done its best to annoy me today’ she admitted. “Even old George had got hold of some strange idea that we were ‘going away to London. He said that you had told him so? “Where did you see him?” asked Gerald sharply. ‘He came to work today instead of Friday’ “The stupid old fool} said Gerald angrily. ‘Alix looked at him in surprise. Her husband’ face was twisted with violent anger. She had never seen him like this. When Gerald noticed her shocked expression, he made an effort to regain cortrol of himself. “Well, he isa stupid old fool, he complained. “What can you have said to make him think that?" “2 | never said anything. At least ~ oh, yes, I remember; made 28 some weak joke about going “off to London in the morning”, and I suppose that he believed me. Or perhaps he didn’t hear me properly. You corrected him, of course?” He waited anxiously for her reply “OF course, but he’s the sort of old man who doesn't accept correction easily” She told him how certain George had been about the price of the house. Gerald was silent for a minute or two, then he said slowly: ‘Ames was prepared to take two thousand pounds immediately and to be paid the remaining one thousand in small amounts over several months. That’s how that mistake started, I expect.’ “Very likely’ Alix agreed. Then she looked up at the clock, and pointed to it with a laugh. “We ought to be getting on with the developing, Gerald. 1's five past nine? ‘A very strange smile appeared on Gerald Martin’s face. “T've changed my mind, he said quietly. ‘I shan'’t do any photography tonight! . ‘A woman's mind is a strange thing, When Alix went to bed on that Wednesday night, her mind was as peaceful and happy as it hhad been before Dick Windyford’s phone call. But by the evening of the following day she was fecling anxious again. Dick had not telephoned again, but she felt what she supposed must be his influence at work. Again and again she seemed to hear those words of his:"The man’s a complete stranger 0 you. You know nothing about him? ‘And with them came the memory of her husband's face and the way that he had said, Alix, do you think that its wise to want to know so much? Why had he said that? There had been a 29‘warning in those words. It was as though he had said, ‘You had better not try to find out about my past life, Alix. You may get an tunpleasant shock if you do. By Friday morning Alix felt certain that there had been a ‘woman in Gerald’ life — and that he had taken great care to hide the fact from her. Her jealousy, which had developed slowly, now became violent. ‘Was it a woman that he had been going to meet that night at 9 pm.? When he had said that he had been planning to develop photographs, had he been lying? ‘Three days ago she would have sworn that she knew her hhusband completely. Now it seemed to her that he was in fact a stranger to her. She remembered his unreasonable anger against ‘old George, which had been so different from his usual good temper. Pethaps it was a small thing, but it showed her that she did not really know the man who was her husband. On Friday afternoon there were several litte things that Alix needed from the village. She suggested that she should go and buy them while Gerald remained in the gardens but rather to het surprise he objected strongly to this plan, and stated that he ‘would go himself while she remained at home. Alix was forced to give way to him, but his determination surprised and wortied her. Why was he so anxious to prevent her from going to the village? Suddenly she thought of an explanation which made the whole thing clear. Was it not possible that, although he had said nothing to her, Gerald actually had met Dick Windyford? Her ‘own jealousy had only developed since her marriage. The same thing might have happened with Gerald, He might be anxious to prevent her from seeing Dick Windyford again. This explanation fitted the facts so well, and was so comforting to Alix’s troubled mind, that she accepted it eagerly. But by teatime she was again feeling uncomfortable. She was 30 struggling with an idea that, to her shame, had come to her since Gerald left. At last, ater she had told herself repeatedly that she ‘ought to tidy Gerald’ dressing room, she went upstairs, She took 4 duster with her to pretend that she was just being a good housewife. “ICT was only sure; she repeated to herself."If | could only be sure? She tried to believe that Gerald would have destroyed anything to do with a worran in his past life, But the desire to find out for herself grew stroager and stronger, until at last she could no longer stop herself. Although she felt deeply ashamed of herself, she searched the drawers, hunting through packets of letters and papers and even the pockets of her husband’s clothes. Only two drawers escaped her: the lower drawer of the dressing table and the small right-Land diawer of the writing desk were but locked. But Alix had by now lost all her shame, She was certain that in one of those drawers she would find something connected with this imaginary woman from the past who was driving her exary, She remembered that Gerald had left his keys lying carelessly oon the table downstairs. She brought them upstairs and tried them one by one.The third key fitted the drawer of the writing desk. Alix pulled it open eagerly. There was a chequebook and some money in there, and at the back of the drawer a packet of letters tied up with a piece of string. Alix was breathing unsteadily as she untied the string. Then her face turned red and she dropped the letters back into the