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A POCKET FULL OF RYE BY AGATHA CHRISTIE

“Meet anyone?” She stared at him. “What

do you mean?”

“I just wondered if you’d seen anybody or

anybody had seen you during this walk of

yours.”

“I saw the gardener in the distance, that’s

all.” She was looking at him suspiciously.

“Then you came in, came up here to your

room and you were just taking your things off

when Miss Dove came in to tell you that tea

was ready?”

“Yes. Yes, and so I came down.”

“And who was there?”

“Adele and Elaine, and a minute or two

later Lance arrived. My brother-in-law, you

know. The one who’s come back from

Kenya.”

“And then you all had tea?”

“Yes, we had tea. Then Lance went up to

see Aunt Effie and I came up here to finish

my letters. I left Elaine there with

Adele.”

He nodded reassuringly.

“Yes. Miss Fortescue seems to have been

with Mrs. Fortescue for quite five or ten

188

minutes after you left. Your husband hadn’t

come home yet?”

“Oh no. Percy—Val—didn’t get home until

about half-past six of seven. He’d been kept

up in town.”

“He came back by train?”

“Yes. He took a taxi from the station.”

“Was it unusual for him to come back by

train?”

“He does sometimes. Not very often. I

think he’d been to places in the city where it’s

rather difficult to park the car. It was easier

for him to take a train home from Cannon

Street.”

“I see,” said Inspector Neele. He went on,

“I asked your husband if Mrs. Fortescue had

made a will before she died. He said he

thought not. I suppose you don’t happen to

have any idea?”

To his surprise Jennifer Fortescue nodded

vigorously.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “Adele made a will.

She told me so.”

“Indeed! When was this?”

“Oh, it wasn’t very long ago. About a

month ago, I think.”

“That’s very interesting,” said Inspector

Neele.

189

Mrs. Percival leant forward eagerly. Her

face now was all animation. She clearly

enjoyed exhibiting her superior knowledge.

“Val didn’t know about it,” she said.

“Nobody knew. It just happened that I found

out about it. I was in the street. I had just

come out of the stationer’s, then I saw Adele

coming out of the solicitor’s office. Ansell

and Worrall’s you know. In the High Street.”

“Ah,” said Neele, “the local solicitors?”

“Yes. And I said to Adele ‘Whatever have

you been doing there?’ I said. And she

laughed and said ‘Wouldn’t you like to

know?’ And then as we walked along together

she said ‘I’ll tell you, Jennifer. I’ve been

making my will.’ ‘Well,’ I said, ‘why are you

doing that, Adele, you’re not ill or anything,

are you?’ And she said no, of course she

wasn’t ill. She’d never felt better. But

everyone ought to make a will. She said she

wasn’t going to those stuck-up family

solicitors in London, Mr. Billingsley. She

said the old sneak would go round and tell the

family. ‘No,’ she said, ‘My will’s my own

business, Jennifer, and I’ll make it my own

way and nobody’s going to know about it.’

‘Well, Adele,’ I said, ‘/ shan’t tell anybody.’

She said ‘It doesn’t matter if you do. You

190

won’t know what’s in it.’ But I didn’t tell

anyone. No, not even Percy. I do think

women ought to stick together, don’t you,

Inspector Neele?”

“I’m sure that’s a very nice feeling on your

part, Mrs. Fortescue,” said Inspector Neele,

diplomatically.

“I’m sure I’m never ill-natured,” said

Jennifer. “I didn’t particularly care for Adele,

if you know what I mean. I always thought

she was the kind of woman who would stick

at nothing in order to get what she wanted.

Now she’s dead, perhaps I misjudged her,

poor soul.”

“Well, thank you very much, Mrs. Fortescue,

for being so helpful to me.”

“You’re welcome, I’m sure. I’m only too

glad to do anything I can. It’s all so very

terrible, isn’t it? Who is the old lady who’s

arrived this morning?”

“She’s a Miss Marple. She very kindly

came here to give us what information she

could about the girl Gladys. It seems Gladys

Martin was once in service with her.”

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Categories: Christie, Agatha
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