AGATHA CHRISTIE. By the Pricking of My Thumbs

‘Where was that- in Sutton Chancellor? That’s your village, isn’t it?’

‘Sutton Chancellor? No. Agents’ place is in Market Basing.

Russell & Thompson, that’s the name. You could go to them and ask.’

‘Yes,’ said Tuppence, ‘so I could. How far is Market Basing from here?’

‘It’s two miles to Sutton Chancellor and it’s seven miles to Market Basing from there. There’s a proper road from Sutton Chancellor, but it’s all lanes hereabouts.’

‘I see,’ said Tuppence. ‘Well, goodbye, Mr Perry, and thank you very much for showing me your garden.’

‘Wait a bit.’ He stopl3ed, cut off an enormous paeony and taking Tuppence by the lapel of her coat, he inserted this 7I trough the buttonhole in it. ‘There,’ he sid, ‘there you are.

;ooks pretty, it does.’ I For a moment Tuppence felt a sudden feling of panic. This i?ge, shambling, good-natured man suddenly frightened her. e was looking down at her, smiling. Smiling rather wildly, lmost leering. ‘Pretty it looks on you,’ he said again. ‘Pretty.’ Tuppence thought ‘I’m glad I’m not a young girl… I don’t hink I’d like him putting a flower on roe then.’ She said oodbye again and hurried away.

The house door was open and Tuppefce went in to say goodbye to Mrs Perry. Mrs Perry was the kitchen, washing p the tea things and Tuppence almost augOmatically pulled a eacloth off the rack and started drying.

‘Thank you so much,’ she said, ‘both yotl and your husband.

You’ve been so kind and hospitable m ma – What’s that?’ From the wall of the kitchen, or rather bhind the wall where an old-fashioned range had once stood, there came a loud screaming and squawking and a scratchg noise too.

‘That’ll be a jackdaw,’ said Mrs Perry, ‘dropped down the chimney in the other house. They do this time of the year. One came down our chimney last week. They make nests in the chimneys, you know.’ ‘What – in the other house?’ ‘Yes, there it is again.’ Again the squawking and crying of a distressed bird came to their ears. Mrs Perry said, ‘There’s no oOe to bother, you aee, in the empty house. The chimneys ougl, t to be swept and all that.’ The squawking scratching noises wenf on.

‘Poor bird,’ said Tuppence.

‘I know. It won’t be able to get up agftin-‘ ‘You mean it’ll just die there?’ ‘Oh yes. One came down our chimney as I say. Two of them, actually. One was a young bird. It was 11 right, we put it out and it flew away. The other one was dead.’ The frenzied scuffling and squeaking went on.

‘Oh,’ said Tuppence, ‘I wish we could get at it.’

Mr Perry came in through the door.’ Anything the matter?’ he said, looking from one to the other.

‘There’s a bird, Amos. It must be in the drawing-room chinmey next door. Hear it?’

‘Eh, it’s come down from the jackdaws’ nest.’

‘I wish we could get in there,’ said Mrs Perry.

‘Ah, you can’t do anything. They’ll die from the fright, if nothing else.’

‘Then it’ll smell,’ said Mrs Perry.

‘You won’t smell anything in here. You’re soft-hearted,’ he went on, looking from one to the other, ‘like all females. We’ll get it if you like.’

‘Why, is one of the windows open?’ ‘We can get in through the door.’ ‘What door?’

‘Outside here in the yard. The key’s hanging up among those.’

He went outside and along to the end, opening a small door there. It was a kind of potting shed really, but a door from it led into the other house and near the door of the potting shed were ‘ six or seven rusty keys hanging on a nail.

‘This one fits,’ said Mr Perry.

He took down the key and put it in the door, and after exerting a good deal of cajolery and force, the key turned rustily in the lock.

‘I went in once before,’ he said, ‘when I heard water running. Somebody’d forgotten to mm the water off properly.’

He went in and the two women followed him. The door led into a small room which still contained various flower vases on a shelf and a sink with a tap.

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