Agatha Christie - The Listerdale Mystery

"I never knew a man could look so like an island," said Mary Montresor. "Would you like to get in?"

"I should love it above all things," said George with no hesitation, and stepped in beside her. They proceeded slowly because the traffic forbade anything else.

"I'm tired of the city," said Mary Montresor. "I came to see what it was like. I shall go back to London." Without presuming to correct her geography, George said it was a splendid idea. They proceeded sometimes slowly, sometimes with wild bursts of speed when Mary Montresor saw a chance of cutting in. It seemed to George that she was somewhat optimistic in the latter view, but he reflected that one could only die once. He thought it best, however, to essay no conversation. He preferred his fair driver to keep strictly to the job in hand.

It was she who reopened the conversation, choosing the moment when they were doing a wild sweep round Hyde Park Corner.

"How would you like to marry me?" she inquired casually.

George gave a gasp, but that may have been due to a large bus that seemed to spell certain destruction. He prided himself on his quickness in response.

"I should love it," he replied easily.

"Well," said Mary Montresor vaguely. "Perhaps you may someday." They turned into the straight without accident, and at that moment George perceived large new bills at Hyde Park Corner tube station. Sandwiched between GRAVE POLITICAL SITUATION and COLONEL

IN DOCK, one said SOCIETY GIRL TO MARRY DUKE, and the other DUKE OF EDGEHILL AND

MISS MONTRESOR.

"What's this about the Duke of Edgehill?" demanded George sternly.

"Me and Bingo? We're engaged."

"But then - what you said just now - "

"Oh, that ," said Mary Montresor. "You see, I haven't made up my mind who I shall actually marry ."

"Then why did you get engaged to him?"

"Just to see if I could. Everybody seemed to think it would be frightfully difficult, and it wasn't a bit!"

"Very rough luck on - er - Bingo," said George, mastering his embarrassment at calling a real live duke by a nickname.

"Not at all," said Mary Montresor. "It will be good for Bingo, if anything could do him good - which I doubt."

George made another discovery - again aided by a convenient poster.

"Why, of course, it's cup day at Ascot. I should have thought that was the one place you were simply bound to be today."

Mary Montresor sighed.

"I wanted a holiday," she said plaintively.

"Why, so did I," said George, delighted. "And as a result my uncle has kicked me out to starve."

"Then in case we marry," said Mary, "my twenty thousand a year may come in useful?"

"It will certainly provide us with a few home comforts," said George.

"Talking of homes," said Mary, "let's go in the country and find a home we would like to live in." It seemed a simple and charming plan. They negotiated Putney Bridge, reached the Kingston by-pass and with a sigh of satisfaction Mary pressed her foot down on the accelerator. They got into the country very quickly. It was half an hour later that with a sudden exclamation Mary shot out a dramatic hand and pointed.

On the brow of a hill in front of them there nestled a house of what house agents describe (but seldom truthfully) as "old-world charm." Imagine the description of most houses in the country really come true for once, and you get an idea of this house.

Mary drew up outside a white gate.

"We'll leave the car and go up and look at it. It's our house!"

"Decidedly, it's our house," agreed George. "But just for the moment other people seem to be living in it." Mary dismissed the other people with a wave of her hand. They walked up the winding drive together. The house appeared even more desirable at close quarters.

"We'll go and peep in at all the windows," said Mary. George demurred.

"Do you think the other people - "

"I shan't consider them. It's our house - they're only living in it by a sort of accident. Besides, it's a lovely day and they're sure to be out. And if anyone does catch us, I shall say - I shall say - that I thought it was Mrs. - Mrs. Pardonstenger's house, and that I am so sorry I made a mistake."

"Well, that ought to be safe enough," said George reflectively. They looked in through windows. The house was delightfully furnished. They had just got to the study when footsteps crunched on the gravel behind them and they turned to face a most irreproachable butler.

"Oh!" said Mary. And then putting on her most enchanting smile, she said, "Is Mrs. Pardonstenger in? I was looking to see if she was in the study."

"Mrs. Pardonstenger is at home, madam," said the butler. "Will you come this way, please." They did the only thing they could. They followed him. George was calculating what the odds against this happening could possibly be. With a name like Pardonstenger he came to the conclusion it was about one in twenty thousand. His companion whispered, "Leave it to me. It will be all right." George was only too pleased to leave it to her. The situation, he considered, called for feminine finesse. They were shown into a drawing room. No sooner had the butler left the room than the door almost immediately reopened and a big florid lady with peroxide hair came in expectantly. Mary Montresor made a movement towards her, then paused in well-stimulated surprise.

"Why!" she exclaimed. "It isn't Amy! What an extraordinary thing!"

"It is an extraordinary thing," said a grim voice. A man had entered behind Mrs. Pardonstenger, an enormous man with a bulldog face and a sinister frown. George thought he had never seen such an unpleasant brute. The man closed the door and stood with his back against it.

"A very extraordinary thing," he repeated sneeringly. "But I fancy we understand your little game!" He suddenly produced what seemed an outsize in revolvers. "Hands up. Hands up, I say. Frisk 'em, Bella." George in reading detective stories had often wondered what it meant to be frisked. Now he knew. Bella (alias Mrs. P.) satisfied herself that neither he nor Mary concealed any lethal weapons on their persons.

"Thought you were mighty clever, didn't you?" sneered the man. "Coming here like this and playing the innocents. You've made a mistake this time - a bad mistake. In fact, I very much doubt whether your friends and relations will ever see you again. Ah! You would, would you?" as George made a movement.

"None of your games. I'd shoot you as soon as look at you."

"Be careful, George," quavered Mary.

"I shall," said George with feeling. "Very careful."

"And now march," said the man. "Open the door, Bella. Keep your hands above your heads, you two. The lady first - that's right. I'll come behind you both. Across the hall. Upstairs ... " They obeyed. What else could they do? Mary mounted the stairs, her hands held high. George followed. Behind them came the huge ruffian, revolver in hand.

Mary reached the top of the staircase and turned the corner. At the same moment, without the least warning, George lunged out a fierce backward kick. He caught the man full in the middle and he capsized backwards down the stairs. In a moment George had turned and leaped down after him, kneeling on his chest. With his right hand, he picked up the revolver which had fallen from the other's hand as he fell. Bella gave a scream and retreated through a baize door. Mary came running down the stairs, her face as white as paper.

"George, you haven't killed him?"

The man was lying absolutely still. George bent over him.

"I don't think I've killed him," he said regretfully. "But he's certainly taken the count all right."

"Thank God." She was breathing rapidly.

"Pretty neat," said George with permissible self-admiration. "Many a lesson to be learnt from a jolly old mule. Eh, what?"