Cat Among the Pigeons - Agatha Christie [19]
“Uncle Bob give me anything to bring back? No. Have you been unpacking my things too?”
“We’ve unpacked everything,” said Derek O’Connor cheerfully, “and we haven’t found a thing and now we’re packing them up again. I think you ought to have a drink of tea or something, Mrs. Sutcliffe. Can I order you something? A brandy and soda perhaps?” He went to the telephone.
“I wouldn’t mind a good cup of tea,” said Mrs. Sutcliffe.
“I had a smashing tea,” said Jennifer. “Bread and butter and sandwiches and cake and then the waiter brought me more sandwiches because I asked him if he’d mind and he said he didn’t. It was lovely.”
O’Connor ordered the tea, then he finished packing up Mrs. Sutcliffe’s belongings again with a neatness and a dexterity which forced her unwilling admiration.
“Your mother seems to have trained you to pack very well,” she said.
“Oh, I’ve all sorts of handy accomplishments,” said O’Connor smiling.
His mother was long since dead, and his skill in packing and unpacking had been acquired solely in the service of Colonel Pikeaway.
“There’s just one thing more, Mrs. Sutcliffe. I’d like you to be very careful of yourself.”
“Careful of myself? In what way?”
“Well,” O’Connor left it vague. “Revolutions are tricky things. There are a lot of ramifications. Are you staying in London long?”
“We’re going down to the country tomorrow. My husband will be driving us down.”
“That’s all right then. But—don’t take any chances. If anything in the least out of the ordinary happens, ring 999 straight away.”
“Ooh!” said Jennifer, in high delight. “Dial 999. I’ve always wanted to.”
“Don’t be silly, Jennifer,” said her mother.
III
Extract from account in a local paper.
A man appeared before the Magistrate’s court yesterday charged with breaking into the residence of Mr. Henry Sutcliffe with intent to steal. Mrs. Sutcliffe’s bedroom was ransacked and left in wild confusion whilst the members of the family were at Church on Sunday morning. The kitchen staff who were preparing the midday meal, heard nothing. Police arrested the man as he was making his escape from the house. Something had evidently alarmed him and he had fled without taking anything.
Giving his name as Andrew Ball of no fixed abode, he pleaded guilty. He said he had been out of work and was looking for money. Mrs. Sutcliffe’s jewellery, apart from a few pieces which she was wearing, is kept at her bank.
“I told you to have the lock of that drawing room french window seen to,” had been the comment of Mr. Sutcliffe in the family circle.
“My dear Henry,” said Mrs. Sutcliffe, “you don’t seem to realize that I have been abroad for the last three months. And anyway, I’m sure I’ve read somewhere that if burglars want to get in they always can.”
She added wistfully, as she glanced again at the local paper:
“How beautifully grand ‘kitchen staff’ sounds. So different from what it really is, old Mrs. Ellis who is quite deaf and can hardly stand up and that half-witted daughter of the Bardwells who comes in to help on Sunday mornings.”
“What I don’t see,” said Jennifer, “is how the police found out the house was being burgled and got here in time to catch him?”
“It seems extraordinary that he didn’t take anything,” commented her mother.
“Are you quite sure about that, Joan?” demanded her husband. “You were a little doubtful at first.”
Mrs. Sutcliffe gave an exasperated sigh.
“It’s impossible to tell about a thing like that straight away. The mess in my bedroom—things thrown about everywhere, drawers pulled out and overturned. I had to look through everything before I could be sure—though now I come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing my best Jacqmar scarf.”
“I’m sorry, Mummy. That was me. It blew overboard in the Mediterranean. I’d borrowed it. I meant to tell you but I forgot.”
“Really, Jennifer, how often have I asked you not to borrow things without telling me first?”
“Can I have some more pudding?” said Jennifer, creating