A POCKET FULL OF RYE BY AGATHA CHRISTIE

A quiet voice spoke softly beside them:

“Your tea is all ready in the library, Mrs.

Val.”

Mrs. Val jumped.

“Oh thank you. Miss Dove. Yes, I could do

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with a cup of tea. Really, I feel quite bowled

over. What about you, Mr.—Inspector——”

“Thank you, not just now.”

The plump figure hesitated and then went

slowly away.

As she disappeared through a doorway,

Mary Dove murmured softly:

“I don’t think she’s ever heard of the term

slander.”

Inspector Neele did not reply.

Mary Dove went on:

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Where can I find the housemaid, Ellen?”

“I will take you to her. She’s just gone

upstairs.”

II

Ellen proved to be grim but unafraid. Her

sour old face looked triumphantly at the

Inspector.

“It’s a shocking business, sir. And I never

thought I’d live to find myself in a house

where that sort of thing has been going on.

But in a way I can’t say that it surprises me. I

ought to have given my notice in long ago and

that’s a fact. I don’t like the language that’s

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used in this house, and I don’t like the

amount of drink that’s taken, and I don’t

approve of the goings on there’ve been. I’ve

nothing against Mrs. Crump, but Crump and

that girl Gladys just don’t know what proper

service is. But it’s the goings on that I mind

about most.”

“What goings on do you mean exactly?”

“You’ll soon hear about them if you don’t

know already. It’s common talk all over the

place. They’ve been seen here there and

everywhere. All this pretending to play

golf—or tennis—— And I’ve seen things—with my own eyes—in this house. The library

door was open and there they were, kissing

and canoodling.”

The venom of the spinster was deadly.

Neele really felt it unnecessary to say “Whom

do you mean?” but he said it nevertheless.

“Who should I mean? The mistress—and

that man. No shame about it, they hadn’t.

But if you ask me, the master had got wise to

it. Put someone on to watch them, he had.

Divorce, that’s what it would have come to.

Instead, it’s come to this.”

“When you say this, you mean——”

“You’ve been asking questions, sir, about

what the master ate and drank and who gave

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it to him. They’re in it together, sir, that’s

what I’d say. He got the stuff from

somewhere and she gave it to the master, that

was the way of it, I’ve no doubt.”

“Have you ever seen any yew berries in the

house—or thrown away anywhere.”

The small eyes glinted curiously.

“Yew? Nasty poisonous stuff. Never you

touch those berries, my mother said to me

when I was a child. Was that what was used,

sir?”

“We don’t know yet what was used.”

“I’ve never seen her fiddling about with

yew.” Ellen sounded disappointed. “No, I

can’t say I’ve seen anything of that kind.”

Neele questioned her about the grain found

in Fortescue’s pocket but here again he drew

a blank.

“No, sir. I know nothing about that.”

He went on to further questions, but with

no gainful result. Finally he asked if he could

see Miss Ramsbottom.

Ellen looked doubtful.

“I could ask her, but it’s not everyone she’ll

see. She’s a very old lady, you know, and

she’s a bit odd.”

The Inspector pressed his demand, and

rather unwillingly Ellen led him along a

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passage and up a short flight of stairs to what

he thought had probably been designed as a

nursery suite.

He glanced out of a passage window as he

followed her and saw Sergeant Hay standing

by the yew tree talking to a man who was

evidently a gardener.

Ellen tapped on a door, and when she

received an answer, opened it and said:

“There’s a police gentleman here who

would like to speak to you, miss.”

The answer was apparently in the

affirmative for she drew back and motioned

Neele to go in.

The room he entered was almost

fantastically over-furnished. The Inspector

felt rather as though he had taken a step

backward into not merely Edwardian but

Victorian times. At a table drawn up to a gas

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