The Man in the Brown Suit by Agatha Christie (dar e dil novel online reading .txt) 📕

but I shall not take Pagett with me. Confound the fellow and his prowling ways.

Altogether I am decidedly out of temper. I had poisonous breakfast with poisonous people. Dutch waitresses with thick ankles who took half an hour to bring me a bad bit of fish. And this farce of getting up at 5 a.m. on arrival at the port to see a blinking doctor and hold your hands above your head simply makes me tired.

Later.

A very serious thing has occurred. I went to my appointment with the prime minister, taking Milray’s sealed letter. It didn’t look as though it had been tampered with, but inside was a blank sheet of paper!

Now, I suppose, I’m in the devil of a mess. Why I ever let that bleating old fool Milray embroil me in the matter I can’t think.

Pagett is a famous Job’s comforter. He displays a certain gloomy satisfaction that maddens me. Also, he has taken advantage of my perturbation to saddle me with the stationery trunk. Unless he is careful, the next funeral he attends will be his own.

However, in the end I had to listen to him.

“Supposing, Sir Eustace, that Rayburn had overheard a word or two of your conversation with Mr. Milray in the street? Remember, you had no written authority from Mr. Milray. You accepted Rayburn on his own valuation.”

“You think Rayburn is a crook, then?” I said slowly.

Pagett did. How far his views were influenced by resentment over his black eye I don’t know. He made out a pretty fair case against Rayburn. And the appearance of the latter told against him. My idea was to do nothing in the matter. A man who has permitted himself to be made a thorough fool of is not anxious to broadcast the fact.

But Pagett, his energy unimpaired by his recent misfortunes, was all for vigorous measures. He had his way of course. He bustled out to the police station, sent innumerable cables, and brought a herd of English and Dutch officials to drink whiskies and sodas at my expense.

We got Milray’s answer that evening. He knew nothing of my late secretary! There was only one spot of comfort to be extracted from the situation.

“At any rate,” I said to Pagett, “you weren’t poisoned. You had one of your ordinary bilious attacks.”

I saw him wince. It was my only score.

Later.

Pagett is in his element. His brain positively scintillates with bright ideas. He will have it now that Rayburn is none other than the famous “man in the brown suit.” I dare say he is right. He usually is. But all this is getting unpleasant. The sooner I get off to Rhodesia the better. I have explained to Pagett that he is not to accompany me.

“You see, my dear fellow,” I said, “you must remain here on the spot. You might be required to identify Rayburn any minute. And, besides, I have my dignity as an English Member of Parliament to think of. I can’t go about with a secretary who has apparently recently been indulging in a vulgar street brawl.”

Pagett winced. He is such a respectable fellow that his appearance is pain and tribulation to him.

“But what will you do about your correspondence and the notes for your speeches, Sir Eustace?”

“I shall manage,” I said airily.

“Your private car is to be attached to the eleven o’clock train tomorrow, Wednesday, morning,” Pagett continued. “I have made all arrangements. Is Mrs. Blair taking a maid with her?”

“Mrs. Blair?” I gasped.

“She tells me you offered her a place.”

So I did, now I come to think of it. On the night of the fancy-dress ball. I even urged her to come. But I never thought she would! Delightful as she is, I do not know that I want Mrs. Blair’s society all the way to Rhodesia and back. Women require such a lot of attention. And they are confoundedly in the way sometimes.

“Have I asked anyone else?” I said nervously. One does these things in moments of expansion.

“Mrs. Blair seemed to think you had asked Colonel Race as well.”

I groaned.

“I must have been very drunk if I asked Race. Very drunk indeed. Take my advice, Pagett, and let your black eye be a warning to you, don’t go on the bust again.”

“As you know, I am a teetotaller, Sir Eustace.”

“Much wiser to take the pledge if you have a weakness that way. I haven’t asked anyone else, have I, Pagett?”

“Not that I know of, Sir Eustace.”

I heaved a sigh of relief.

“There’s Miss Beddingfeld,” I said thoughtfully. “She wants to get to Rhodesia to dig up bones, I believe. I’ve a good mind to offer her a temporary job as a secretary. She can typewrite, I know, for she told me so.”

To my surprise, Pagett opposed the idea vehemently. He does not like Anne Beddingfeld. Ever since the night of the black eye, he has displayed uncontrollable emotion whenever she is mentioned. Pagett is full of mysteries nowadays.

Just to annoy him, I shall ask the girl. As I said before, she has extremely nice legs.

XVIII

(Anne’s narrative resumed)

I don’t suppose that as long as I live I shall forget my first sight of Table Mountain. I got up frightfully early and went out on deck. I went right up to the boat deck, which I believe is a heinous offence, but I decided to dare something in the cause of solitude. We were just steaming into Table Bay. There were fleecy white clouds hovering above Table Mountain, and nestling on the slopes below, right down to the sea, was the sleeping town, gilded and bewitched by the morning sunlight.

It made me catch my breath and have that curious hungry pain inside that seizes one sometimes when one comes across something that’s extra beautiful. I’m not very good at expressing these things, but I knew well enough that I had found, if only for a fleeting moment, the thing that I had been looking forever since I left Little Hampsly. Something new, something