Agatha Christie - Spider's Web

Only a minute or two had passed when, hearing the front door of the house slam, she looked expectantly towards the hall door through which, a moment later, her husband, Henry Hailsham-Brown, entered. Henry was a quite good-looking man of about forty with a rather expressionless face, wearing horn-rimmed spectacles and carrying a brief-case."Hello, darling," Henry greeted his wife, as he switched on the wall-bracket lights by a switch below the hall door, and put his brief-case on the armchair."Hello, Henry," Clarissa replied. "Hasn't it been an absolutely awful day?"

"Has it?" asked Henry, as he came across to lean over the back of the sofa and kiss Clarissa."I hardly know where to begin," she told him. "Have a drink first."

"Not just now," Henry replied, going to the French windows and closing the curtains. "Who's in the house?"Slightly surprised at the question, Clarissa answered, "Nobody. It's the Elgins's night off. Black Thursday, you know. We'll dine on cold ham, chocolate mousse, and the coffee will be really good because I shall make it." A questioning "Um?" was Henry's only response to this.

Struck by his manner, Clarissa asked, "Henry, is anything the matter?"

"Well, yes, in a way," he told her."Something wrong?" she queried. "Is it Miranda?"

"No, no, there's nothing wrong, really," Henry assured her. "I should say quite the contrary. Yes, quite the contrary."

"Darling," said Clarissa, speaking with affection and only a very faint note of ridicule, "do I perceive behind that impenetrable Foreign Office façade a certain human excitement?"Henry wore an air of pleasurable anticipation. "Well," he admitted, "it is rather exciting in a way." He paused, then added, "As it happens, there's a slight fog in London."

"Is that very exciting?" Clarissa asked."No, no, not the fog, of course."

"Well?" Clarissa urged him.

Henry looked quickly around, as though to assure himself that he could not be overheard, and then went across to the sofa to sit beside Clarissa. "You'll have to keep this to yourself," he impressed upon her in a very grave tone of voice."Yes?" Clarissa prompted him hopefully."It's really very secret," Henry reiterated. "Nobody's supposed to know. But, actually, you'll have to know."

"Well, come on, tell me," she urged him.

Henry looked around again, and then turned to Clarissa. "It's all very hush-hush," he insisted. He paused for effect, and then announced, "The Soviet Premier, Kalendorff, is flying to London for an important conference with the Prime Minister tomorrow." Clarissa was unimpressed. "Yes, I know," she replied.

Henry looked startled. "What do you mean, you know?" he demanded."I read it in the paper last Sunday," Clarissa informed him casually."I can't think why you want to read these low-class papers," Henry expostulated. He sounded really put out. "Anyway," he continued, "the papers couldn't possibly know that Kalendorff was coming over. It's top secret."

"My poor sweet," Clarissa murmured. Then, in a voice in which compassion was mixed with incredulity, she continued, "But top secret? Really! The things you high-ups believe." Henry rose and began to stride around the room, looking distinctly worried. "Oh dear, there must have been some leak," he muttered."I should have thought," Clarissa observed tartly, "that by now you'd know there always is a leak. In fact, I should have thought that you'd all be prepared for it." Henry looked somewhat affronted. "The news was only released officially tonight," he told her. "Kalendorff's plane is due at Heathrow at eight-forty, but actually..." He leaned over the sofa and looked doubtfully at his wife."Now, Clarissa," he asked her very solemnly, "can I really trust you to be discreet?"

"I'm much more discreet than any Sunday newspaper," Clarissa protested, swinging her feet off the sofa and sitting up.

Henry sat on an arm of the sofa and leaned towards Clarissa conspiratorially. "The conference will be at Whitehall tomorrow," he informed her, "but it would be a great advantage if a conversation could take place first between Sir John himself and Kalendorff. Now, naturally the reporters are all waiting at Heathrow, and the moment the plane arrives, Kalendorff's movements are more or less public property." He looked around again, as though expecting to find the gentlemen of the press peering over his shoulder, and continued, in a tone of increasing excitement, "Fortunately, this incipient fog has played into our hands."

"Go on," Clarissa encouraged him. "I'm thrilled, so far."

"At the last moment," Henry informed her, "the plane will find it inadvisable to land at Heathrow. It will be diverted, as is usual on these occasions – "

"To Bindley Heath," Clarissa interrupted him. "That's just fifteen miles from here. I see."

"You're always very quick, Clarissa dear," Henry commented rather disapprovingly. "But yes, I shall go off there now to the aerodrome in the car, meet Kalendorff, and bring him here. The Prime Minister is motoring down here direct from Downing Street. Half an hour will be ample for what they have to discuss, and then Kalendorff will travel up to London with Sir John."Henry paused. He got up and took a few paces away, before turning to say to her disarmingly, "You know, Clarissa, this may be of very great value to me in my career. I mean, they're reposing a lot of trust in me, having this meeting here."

"So they should," Clarissa replied firmly, going to her husband and flinging her arms around him. "Henry, darling," she exclaimed, "I think it's all wonderful."

"By the way," Henry informed her solemnly, "Kalendorff will be referred to only as Mr. Jones."

"Mr. Jones?" Clarissa attempted, not altogether successfully, to keep a note of amused incredulity out of her voice."That's right," Henry explained, "one can't be too careful about using real names."

"Yes – but – Mr. Jones?" Clarissa queried. "Couldn't they have thought of something better than that?" She shook her head doubtfully and continued, "Incidentally, what about me? Do I retire to the harem, as it were, or do I bring in the drinks, utter greetings to them both and then discreetly fade away?"Henry regarded his wife somewhat uneasily as he admonished her, "You must take this seriously, dear."

"But Henry, darling," Clarissa insisted, "can't I take it seriously and still enjoy it a little?"Henry gave her question a moment's consideration before replying gravely, "I think it would be better, perhaps, Clarissa, if you didn't appear." Clarissa seemed not to mind this. "All right," she agreed, "but what about food? Will they want something?"

"Oh, no," said Henry. "There need be no question of a meal."

"A few sandwiches, I think," Clarissa suggested. She sat on an arm of the sofa and continued, "Ham sandwiches would be best. In a napkin to keep them moist. And hot coffee, in a thermos jug. Yes, that'll do very well. The chocolate mousse I shall take up to my bedroom to console me for being excluded from the conference."

"Now, Clarissa," Henry began disapprovingly, only to be interrupted by his wife as she rose and flung her arms around his neck. "Darling, I am being serious, really," she assured him. "Nothing will go wrong. I shan't let it." She kissed him affectionately.

Henry gently disentangled himself from her embrace. "What about old Roly?" he asked."He and Jeremy are dining at the clubhouse with Hugo," Clarissa told him. "They're going to play bridge afterwards, so Roly and Jeremy won't be back here until about midnight."

"And the Elgins are out?" Hugo asked her."Darling, you know they always go to the cinema on Thursdays," Clarissa reminded him. "They won't be back until well after eleven." Henry looked pleased. "Good," he exclaimed. "That's all quite satisfactory. Sir John and Mr. – er – "

"Jones," Clarissa prompted him."Quite right, darling. Mr. Jones and the Prime Minister will have left long before then." Henry consulted his watch. "Well, I'd better have a quick shower before I start off for Bindley Heath," he announced."And I'd better go and make the ham sandwiches," Clarissa said, dashing out of the room. Picking up his briefcase, Henry called after her, "You must remember about the lights, Clarissa." He went to the door and switched off the concealed lighting. "We're making our own electricity here, and it costs money." He switched off the wall-brackets as well. "It's not like London, you know." After a final glance around the room, which was now in darkness except for a faint glow of moonlight coming in through the windows, Henry nodded and left, closing the door behind him.