Agatha Christie - Crooked House

"Don't be absurd. She's not even really good looking. And she certainly didn't -"

"Display allure? No, she just made you sorry for her. She's not actually beautiful, she's not in the least clever - but she's got one very outstanding characteristic. She can make trouble. She's made trouble, already, between you and me."

"Sophia," I cried aghast.

Sophia went to the door.

"Forget it, Charles. I must get on with lunch."

"I'll come and help."

"No, you stay here. It will rattle Nannie to have 'a gentleman in the kitchen'."

"Sophia," I called as she went out.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Just a servant problem. Why haven't you got any servants down here and upstairs something in an apron and a cap opened the door to us?"

"Grandfather had a cook, housemaid, parlourmaid and valet-attendant. He liked servants. He paid them the earth, of course, and he got them. Clemency and Roger just have a daily woman who comes in and cleans. They don't like servants - or rather Clemency doesn't. If Roger didn't get a square meal in the City every day, he'd starve. Clemency's idea of a meal is lettuce, tomatoes and raw carrot. We sometimes have servants, and then mother throws one of her temperaments and they leave, and we have dailies for a bit and then start again. We're in the daily period. Nannie is the permanency and copes in emergencies.

Now you know." t

Sophia went out. I sank down in one of the large brocaded chairs and gave myself up to speculation.

Upstairs I had seen Brenda's side of it.

Here and now I had been shown Sophia's side of it. I realised completely the justice of Sophia's point of view - what might be called the Leonides family's point of view. They resented a stranger within the gates who had obtained admission by what they regarded as ignoble means. They were entirely within their rights. As Sophia had said: On paper it wouldn't look well…

But there was the human side of it -the side that I saw and that they didn't.

They were, they always had been, rich and well established. They had no conception of the temptations of the underdog. Brenda Leonides had wanted wealth, and pretty things and safety - and a home. She had claimed that in exchange she had made her old husband happy. I had sympathy with her. Certainly, while I was talking with her, I had had sympathy for her… Had I got as much sympathy now?

Two sides to the question - different angles of vision - which was the true angle .. the true angle…

I had slept very little the night before. I had been up early to accompany Taverner.

Now, in the warm flower-scented atmosphere of Magda Leonides's drawing room, my body relaxed in the cushioned embrace of the big chair and my eyelids dropped…

Thinking of Brenda, of Sophia, of an old man's picture, my thoughts slid together into a pleasant haze.

I slept…

I returned to consciousness so gradually that I didn't at first realise that I had been asleep. The scent of flowers was in my nose. In front of me a round white blob appeared to float in space. It was some few seconds before I realised that it was a human face I was looking at - a face suspended in the air about a foot or two away from me. As my faculties returned, my vision became more precise. The face still had its goblin suggestion - it was round with a bulging brow, combed back hair and small rather beady, black eyes.

But it was definitely attached to a body - a small skinny body. It was regarding me very earnestly.

"Hullo," it said.

"Hullo," I replied, blinking.

"I'm Josephine."

I had already deduced that. Sophia's sister, Josephine, was, I judged, about eleven or twelve years of age. She was a fantastically ugly child with a very distinct likeness to her grandfather. It seemed to me possible that she also had his brains.

"You're Sophia's young man," said Josephine.

I acknowledged the correctness of this remark.

"But you came down here with Chief

Inspector Taverner. Why did you come with Chief Inspector Taverner?"

"He's a friend of mine." ^ "Is he? I don't like him. I shan't tell him things." "What sort of things?"

"The things that I know. I know a lot of things. I like knowing things."

She sat down on the arm of the chair and continued her searching scrutiny of my face. I began to feel quite uncomfortable.

"Grandfather's been murdered. Did you know?"

"Yes," I said. "I knew." " "He was poisoned. With es-er-ine." She pronounced the word very carefully. "It's interesting, isn't it?"

"I suppose it is."

"Eustace and I are very interested. We like detective stories. I've always wanted to '? It be a detective. I'm being one now. I'm collecting clues."

She was, I felt, rather a ghoulish child.

She returned to the charge.

"The man who came with Chief Inspector Taverner is a detective too, isn't he? In books it says you can always know plain clothes detectives by their boots. But this I detective was wearing suede shoes."

"The old order changeth," I said.

Josephine interpreted this remark according to her own ideas.

"Yes," she said, "there will be a lot of changes here now, I expect. We shall go and live in a house in London on the embankment. Mother has wanted to for a long time. She'll be very pleased. I don't expect father will mind if his books go, too.

He couldn't afford it before. He lost an awful lot of money over Jezebel."

"Jezebel?" I queried.

"Yes, didn't you see it?" ® "Oh, was it a play? No, I didn't. I've been abroad." | "It didn't run very long. Actually, it was the most awful flop. I don't think mother's really the type to play Jezebel, do you?"

LI balanced my impressions of Magda.

Neither in the peach-coloured negligee nor in the tailored suit had she conveyed any suggestion of Jezebel, but I was willing to believe that there were other Magdas that I had not yet seen.

"Perhaps not," I said cautiously.

"Grandfather always said it would be a flop. He said he wouldn't put up any money for one of these historical religious plays.

He said it would never be a box office success. But mother was frightfully keen. I didn't like it much myself. It wasn't really a bit like the story in the Bible. I mean, Jezebel wasn't wicked like she is in the Bible. She was all patriotic and really quite nice. That made it dull. Still, the end was all right. They threw her out of the window.

Only no dogs came and ate her. I think that was a pity, don't you? I like the part about the dogs eating her best. Mother says you can't have dogs on the stage but I don't see why. You could have performing dogs."

She quoted with gusto: " 'And they ate her all but the palms of her hands.' Why didn't they eat the palms of her hands?"

"I've really no idea," I said.

"You wouldn't think, would you, that dogs were so particular. Our dogs aren't.

They eat simply anything."

T^^km^ hrnnded on this Biblical mystery for some seconds.

"I'm sorry the play was a fl(p,

"Yes. Mother was terribly b| notices were simply frightful! read them, she burst into teas all day and she threw her brei'

Gladys, and Gladys gave noif rather fun."

"I perceive that you like phine," I said.

"They did a post morteml father," said Josephine. "To H; he had died of. A P.M., they all11 think that's rather confusing, dd;^ cause P.M. stands for Prime S^ And for afternoon," she addt^p! fully. J "Are you sorry your grandfatia, I I asked. | "Not particularly. I didn't lifcl^l He stopped me learning to It i dancer." '] "Did you want to learn ball(t([ "Yes, and mother was willmi learn, and father didn't mindly father said I'd be no good." | She slipped off the arm c^l kicked off her shoes and en^j get onto what are called ^ in the tailored suit had she conveyed any suggestion of Jezebel, but I was willing to believe that there were other Magdas that I had not yet seen.