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Spider’s Web. Agatha ChristieЧитать онлайн книгу.

Spider’s Web - Agatha Christie


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hole.’

      ‘A priest’s hole?’ Jeremy queried, smiling. ‘In this house?’

      ‘Yes, we have,’ said Pippa.

      ‘I don’t believe you,’ Jeremy told her. ‘It’s the wrong period.’

      ‘Well, I call it a priest’s hole,’ she insisted. ‘Look, I’ll show you.’

      She went to the right-hand side of the bookshelves, took out a couple of books, and pulled down a small lever in the wall behind the books. A section of wall to the right of the shelves swung open, revealing itself to be a concealed door. Behind it was a good-sized recess, with another concealed door in its back wall.

      ‘I know it isn’t really a priest’s hole, of course,’ Pippa admitted. ‘But it’s certainly a secret passage-way. Actually, that door goes through into the library.’

      ‘Oh, does it?’ said Jeremy as he went to investigate. He opened the door at the back of the recess, glanced into the library and then closed it and came back into the room. ‘So it does.’

      ‘But it’s all rather secret, and you’d never guess it was there unless you knew,’ Pippa said as she lifted the lever to close the panel. ‘I’m using it all the time,’ she continued. ‘It’s the sort of place that would be very convenient for putting a dead body, don’t you think?’

      Jeremy smiled. ‘Absolutely made for it,’ he agreed.

      Pippa went back to her card game on the floor, as Clarissa came in.

      Jeremy looked up. ‘The Amazon is looking for you,’ he informed her.

      ‘Miss Peake? Oh, what a bore,’ Clarissa exclaimed as she picked up Pippa’s bun from the table and took a bite.

      Pippa immediately got to her feet. ‘Hey, that’s mine!’ she protested.

      ‘Greedy thing,’ Clarissa murmured as she handed over what was left of the bun. Pippa put it back on the table and returned to her game.

      ‘First she hailed me as though I were a ship,’ Jeremy told Clarissa, ‘and then she ticked me off for manhandling this desk.’

      ‘She’s a terrible pest,’ Clarissa admitted, leaning over one end of the sofa to peer down at Pippa’s cards. ‘But we’re only renting the house, and she goes with it, so—’ She broke off to say to Pippa, ‘Black ten on the red Jack,’ before continuing, ‘—so we have to keep her on. And in any case she’s really a very good gardener.’

      ‘I know,’ Jeremy agreed, putting his arm around her. ‘I saw her out of my bedroom window this morning. I heard these sounds of exertion, so I stuck my head out of the window, and there was the Amazon, in the garden, digging something that looked like an enormous grave.’

      ‘That’s called deep trenching,’ Clarissa explained. ‘I think you plant cabbages in it, or something.’

      Jeremy leaned over to study the card game on the floor. ‘Red three on the black four,’ he advised Pippa, who responded with a furious glare.

      Emerging from the library with Hugo, Sir Rowland gave Jeremy a meaningful look. He tactfully dropped his arm and moved away from Clarissa.

      ‘The weather seems to have cleared at last,’ Sir Rowland announced. ‘Too late for golf, though. Only about twenty minutes of daylight left.’ Looking down at Pippa’s card game, he pointed with his foot. ‘Look, that goes on there,’ he told her. Crossing to the French windows, he failed to notice the fierce glare Pippa shot his way. ‘Well,’ he said, glancing out at the garden, ‘I suppose we might as well go across to the club house now, if we’re going to eat there.’

      ‘I’ll go and get my coat,’ Hugo announced, leaning over Pippa to point out a card as he passed her. Pippa, really furious by now, leaned forward and covered the cards with her body, as Hugo turned back to address Jeremy. ‘What about you, my boy?’ he asked. ‘Coming with us?’

      ‘Yes,’ Jeremy answered. ‘I’ll just go and get my jacket.’ He and Hugo went out into the hall together, leaving the door open.

      ‘You’re sure you don’t mind dining at the club house this evening, darling?’ Clarissa asked Sir Rowland.

      ‘Not a bit,’ he assured her. ‘Very sensible arrangement, since the servants are having the night off.’

      The Hailsham-Browns’ middle-aged butler, Elgin, came into the room from the hall and went across to Pippa. ‘Your supper is ready in the schoolroom, Miss Pippa,’ he told her. ‘There’s some milk, and fruit, and your favourite biscuits.’

      ‘Oh, good!’ Pippa shouted, springing to her feet. ‘I’m ravenous.’

      She darted towards the hall door but was stopped by Clarissa, who told her sharply to pick up her cards first and put them away.

      ‘Oh, bother,’ Pippa exclaimed. She went back to the cards, knelt, and slowly began to shovel them into a heap against one end of the sofa.

      Elgin now addressed Clarissa. ‘Excuse me, madam,’ he murmured respectfully.

      ‘Yes, Elgin, what is it?’ Clarissa asked.

      The butler looked uncomfortable. ‘There has been a little—er—unpleasantness, over the vegetables,’ he told her.

      ‘Oh, dear,’ said Clarissa. ‘You mean with Miss Peake?’

      ‘Yes, madam,’ the butler continued. ‘My wife finds Miss Peake most difficult, madam. She is continually coming into the kitchen and criticizing and making remarks, and my wife doesn’t like it, she doesn’t like it at all. Wherever we have been, Mrs Elgin and myself have always had very pleasant relations with the garden.’

      ‘I’m really sorry about that,’ Clarissa replied, suppressing a smile. ‘I’ll—er—I’ll try to do something about it. I’ll speak to Miss Peake.’

      ‘Thank you, madam,’ said Elgin. He bowed and left the room, closing the hall door behind him.

      ‘How tiresome they are, servants,’ Clarissa observed to Sir Rowland. ‘And what curious things they say. How can one have pleasant relations with the garden? It sounds improper, in a pagan kind of way.’

      ‘I think you’re lucky, however, with this couple—the Elgins,’ Sir Rowland advised her. ‘Where did you get them?’

      ‘Oh, the local Registry office,’ Clarissa replied.

      Sir Rowland frowned. ‘I hope not that what’s-its-name one where they always send you crooks,’ he observed.

      ‘Cooks?’ asked Pippa, looking up from the floor where she was still sorting out cards.

      ‘No, dear. Crooks,’ Sir Rowland repeated. ‘Do you remember,’ he continued, now addressing Clarissa, ‘that agency with the Italian or Spanish name—de Botello, wasn’t it?—who kept sending you people to interview, most of whom turned out to be illegal aliens? Andy Hulme was virtually cleaned out by a couple he and his wife took on. They used Andy’s horsebox to move out half the house. And they’ve never caught up with them yet.’

      ‘Oh, yes,’ Clarissa laughed. ‘I do remember. Come on, Pippa, hurry up,’ she ordered the child.

      Pippa picked up the cards, and got to her feet. ‘There!’ she exclaimed petulantly as she replaced the cards on the bookshelves. ‘I wish one didn’t always have to do clearing up.’ She went towards the door, but was stopped by Clarissa who, picking up what was left of Pippa’s bun from the table, called to her, ‘Here, take your bun with you,’ and handed it to her.

      Pippa started to go again. ‘And your satchel,’ Clarissa continued.

      Pippa ran to the easy chair, snatched up her satchel, and turned again towards the hall door.

      ‘Hat!’ Clarissa shouted.

      Pippa


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