Agatha Christie - Why Didn't They Ask Evans

'It's a remarkably well-planned scheme, I think,' said Frankie with pride.

'And I don't do anything at all?' asked Bobby.

He still felt injured - much like a dog who has been unexpectedly deprived of a bone. This, he felt, was his own particular crime, and now he was being ousted.

'Of course you do, darling. You grow a moustache.' 'Oh! I grow a moustache, do I?' 'Yes. How long will it take?' 'Two or three weeks, I expect.' 'Heavens! I'd no idea it was such a slow process. Can't you speed it up?' 'No. Why can't I wear a false one?' 'They always look so false and they twist or come off or smell of spirit gum. Wait a minute, though, I believe there is a kind you can get stuck on hair by hair, so to speak, that absolutely defies detection. I expect a theatrical wigmaker would do it for you.' 'He'd probably think I was trying to escape from justice.' 'It doesn't matter what he thinks.' 'Once I've got the moustache, what do I do?' 'Put on a chauffeur's uniform and drive the Bentley down to Staverley.' 'Oh, I see.' Bobby brightened.

'You see my idea is this,' said Frankie: 'Nobody looks at a chauffeur in the way they look at a person. In any case, Bassington-ffrench only saw you for a minute or two and he must have been too rattled wondering if he could change the photograph in time to look at you much. You were just a young golfing ass to him. It isn't like the Caymans who sat opposite you and talked to you and who were deliberately trying to sum you up. I'd bet anything that seeing you in chauffeur's uniform, Bassington-ffrench wouldn't recognize you even without the moustache. He might just possibly think that your face reminded him of somebody - no more than that. And with the moustache it ought to be perfectly safe. Now tell me, what do you think of the plan?' Bobby turned it over in his mind.

'To tell you the truth, Frankie,' he said generously, 'I think it's pretty good.' 'In that case,' said Frankie briskly. 'Let's go and buy some cars. I say, I think George has broken your bed.' 'It doesn't matter,' said Bobby hospitably. 'It was never a particularly good bed.' They descended to the garage, where a nervous-looking young man with a curious lack of chin and an agreeable smile greeted them with a vague 'Haw, haw, haw!' His general appearance was slightly marred by the fact that his eyes had a distinct disinclination to look in the same direction.

'Hullo, Badger,' said Bobby. 'You remember Frankie, don't you^' Badger clearly didn't, but he said, 'Haw, haw, haw!' again in an amiable manner.

'Last time I saw you,' said Frankie, 'you were head downward in the mud and we had to pull you out by the legs.' 'No, not really?' said Badger. 'Why, that m-m-must have been Ww-w-wales.' 'Quite right,' said Frankie. 'It was.' 'I always was a p-p-putrid r-r-r-rider,' said Badger. 'I s-s-sstill am,' he added mournfully.

'Frankie wants to buy a car,' said Bobby.

'Two cars,' said Frankie. 'George has got to have one, too.

He's crashed his at the moment.' 'We can hire him one,' said Bobby.

'Well, come and look at what we've got in s-s-stock,' said Badger.

'They look very smart,' said Frankie, dazzled by lurid hues of scarlet and apple-green.

'They look all right,' said Bobby darkly.

'That's r-r-r-remarkably good value in a ss-second-hand Chrysler,' said Badger.

'No, not that one,' said Bobby. 'Whatever she buys has got to go at least forty miles.' Badger cast his partner a look of reproach.

'The Standard is pretty much on its last legs,' mused Bobby.

'But I think it would just get you there. The Essex is a bit too good for the job. She'll go at least two hundred before breaking down.' 'All right,' said Frankie. 'I'll have the Standard.' Badger drew his colleague a little aside.

'W-w-what do you think about p-p-price?' he murmured.

'Don't want to s-s-stick a friend of yours too much. Tt-t-ten pounds?' 'Ten pounds is all right,' said Frankie, entering the discussion.

'I'll pay for it now.' 'Who is she really?' asked Badger in a loud whisper.

Bobby whispered back.

'F-f-f-first time I ever knew anyone with a t-t-t-title who c-c-could pay cash,' said Badger with respect.

Bobby followed the other two out to the Bentley.

'When is this business going to take place?' he demanded.

'The sooner the better,' said Frankie. 'We thought tomorrow afternoon.' 'Look here, can't I be there? I'll put on a beard if you like.' 'Certainly not,' said Frankie. 'A beard would probably ruin everything by falling off at the wrong moment. But I don't see why you shouldn't be a motor-cyclist - with a lot of cap and goggles. What do you think, George?' George Arbuthnot spoke for the second time: 'All right,' he said, 'the more the merrier.' His voice was even more melancholy than before.

The rendezvous for the great accident party was fixed at a spot about a mile from Staverley village where the road to Staverley branched off from the main road to Andover.

All three arrived there safely, though Frankie's Standard had shown unmistakable signs of decrepitude at every hill.

The time fixed had been one o'clock.

'We don't want to be interrupted when we're staging the thing,' Frankie had said. 'Hardly anything ever goes down this road, I should imagine, but at lunch time we ought to be perfectly safe.' They proceeded for half a mile on the side road and then Frankie pointed out the place she had selected for the accident to take place.

'It couldn't be better in my opinion,' she said. 'Straight down this hill and then, as you see, the road gives a sudden very sharp turn round that bulging bit of wall. The wall is actually the wall of Merroway Court. If we start the car and let it run down the hill it will crash straight into the wall and something pretty drastic ought to happen to it.' 'I should say so,' Bobby agreed. 'But someone ought to be on the lookout at the corner to be sure someone isn't coming round it in the opposite direction.' 'Quite right,' said Frankie. 'We don't want to involve anybody else in a mess and perhaps maim them for life. George can take his car down there and turn it as though he were coming from the other direction. Then when he waves a handkerchief it will show that all is clear.' 'You're looking very pale, Frankie,' said Bobby anxiously.

'Are you sure you're all right?' 'I'm made up pale,' explained Frankie. 'Ready for the concussion. You don't want me to be carried into the house blooming with health.' 'How wonderful women are,' said Bobby appreciatively.

'You look exactly like a sick monkey.' 'I think you're very rude,' said Frankie. 'Now, then, I shall go and prospect at the gate into Merroway Court. It's just this side of the bulge. There's no lodge, fortunately. When George waves his handkerchief and I wave mine, you start her off.' 'Right,' said Bobby. 'I'll stay on the running board to guide her until the pace gets too hot and then I'll jump off.' 'Don't hurt yourself,' said Frankie.

'I shall be extremely careful not to. It would complicate matters to have a real accident on the spot of the faked one.' 'Well, start off, George,' said Frankie.

George nodded, jumped into the second car and ran slowly down the hill. Bobby and Frankie stood looking after him.

'You'll - look after yourself, won't you, Frankie?' said Bobby with a sudden gruffness. 'I mean - don't go doing anything foolish.' 'I shall be all right. Most circumspect. By the way, I don't think I'd better write to you direct. I'll write to George or my maid or someone or other to pass on to you.' 'I wonder if George is going to be a success in his profession.' 'Why shouldn't he?' 'Well, he doesn't seem to have acquired a chatty bedside manner yet.' 'I expect that will come,' said Frankie. 'I'd better be going now. I'll let you know when I want you to come down with the Bentley.' 'I'll get busy with the moustache. So long, Frankie.' 'They looked at each other for a moment, and then Frankie nodded and began to walk down the hill.