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

to him to wonder what I was doing down there. A piece of sheer bad luck that was. I arranged it all so carefully too, sending him off to Florence, telling the hotel I was going over to Nice for one night or possibly two. Then, by the time the murder was discovered, I was back again in Cannes, with nobody dreaming that I’d ever left the Riviera.”

He still spoke quite naturally and unaffectedly. I had to pinch myself to understand that this was all real⁠—that the man in front of me was really that deep-dyed criminal, the Colonel. I followed things out in my mind.

“Then it was you who tried to throw me overboard on the Kilmorden,” I said slowly. “It was you that Pagett followed up on deck that night?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“I apologize, my dear child, I really do. I always liked you⁠—but you were so confoundedly interfering. I couldn’t have all my plans brought to naught by a chit of a girl.”

“I think your plan at the falls was really the cleverest,” I said, endeavouring to look at the thing in a detached fashion. “I would have been ready to swear anywhere that you were in the hotel when I went out. Seeing is believing in future.”

“Yes, Minks had one of his greatest successes as Miss Pettigrew, and he can imitate my voice quite creditably.”

“There is one thing I should like to know.”

“Yes?”

“How did you induce Pagett to engage her?”

“Oh, that was quite simple. She met Pagett in the doorway of the Trade Commissioner’s office or the Chamber of Mines, or wherever it was he went⁠—told him I had phoned down in a hurry, and that she had been selected by the government department in question. Pagett swallowed it like a lamb.”

“You’re very frank,” I said, studying him.

“There’s no earthly reason why I shouldn’t be.”

I didn’t quite like the sound of that. I hastened to put my own interpretation on it.

“You believe in the success of this revolution? You’ve burnt your boats.”

“For an otherwise intelligent young woman, that’s a singularly unintelligent remark. No, my dear child, I do not believe in this revolution. I give it a couple of days longer and it will fizzle out ignominiously.”

“Not one of your successes, in fact?” I said nastily.

“Like all women, you’ve no idea of business. The job I took on was to supply certain explosives and arms⁠—heavily paid for⁠—to foment feeling generally, and to incriminate certain people up to the hilt. I’ve carried out my contract with complete success, and I was careful to be paid in advance. I took special care over the whole thing, as I intended it to be my last contract before retiring from business. As for burning my boats, as you call it, I simply don’t know what you mean. I’m not the rebel chief, or anything of that kind⁠—I’m a distinguished English visitor, who had the misfortune to go nosing into a certain curio shop⁠—and saw a little more than he was meant to, and so the poor fellow was kidnapped. Tomorrow, or the day after, when circumstances permit, I shall be found tied up somewhere in a pitiable state of terror and starvation.”

“Ah!” I said slowly. “But what about me?”

“That’s just it,” said Sir Eustace softly. “What about you? I’ve got you here⁠—I don’t want to rub it in in any way⁠—but I’ve got you here very neatly. The question is, what am I going to do with you? The simplest way of disposing of you⁠—and, I may add, the pleasantest to myself⁠—is the way of marriage. Wives can’t accuse their husbands, you know, and I’d rather like a pretty young wife to hold my hand and glance at me out of liquid eyes⁠—don’t flash them at me so! You quite frighten me. I see that the plan does not commend itself to you?”

“It does not.”

Sir Eustace sighed. “A pity! But I am no Adelphi villain. The usual trouble, I suppose. You love another, as the books say.”

“I love another.”

“I thought as much⁠—first I thought it was that long-legged, pompous ass, Race, but I suppose it’s the young hero who fished you out of the falls that night. Women have no taste. Neither of those two have half the brains that I have. I’m such an easy person to underestimate.”

I think he was right about that. Although I knew well enough the kind of man he was and must be, I could not bring myself to realize it. He had tried to kill me on more than one occasion, he had actually killed another woman, and he was responsible for endless other deeds of which I knew nothing, and yet I was quite unable to bring myself into the frame of mind for appreciating his deeds as they deserved. I could not think of him as other than our amusing, genial travelling companion. I could not even feel frightened of him⁠—and yet I knew he was capable of having me murdered in cold blood if it struck him as necessary. The only parallel I can think of is the case of Stevenson’s Long John Silver. He must have been much the same kind of man.

“Well, well,” said this extraordinary person, leaning back in his chair. “It’s a pity that the idea of being Lady Pedler doesn’t appeal to you. The other alternatives are rather crude.”

I felt a nasty feeling going up and down my spine. Of course I had known all along that I was taking a big risk, but the prize had seemed worth it. Would things turn out as I had calculated, or would they not?

“The fact of the matter is,” Sir Eustace was continuing, “I’ve a weakness for you. I really don’t want to proceed to extremes. Suppose you tell me the whole story, from the very beginning, and let’s see what we can make of it. But no romancing, mind⁠—I want the truth.”

I was not going to make any mistake over that. I had a great