Death in the Clouds - Agatha Christie [0]
To Ormond Beadle
Contents
About Agatha Christie
The Agatha Christie Collection
Plan of Rear Car ‘Prometheus’
1 Paris to Croydon
2 Discovery
3 Croydon
4 The Inquest
5 After the Inquest
6 Consultation
7 Probabilities
8 The List
9 Elise Grandier
10 The Little Black Book
11 The American
12 At Horbury Chase
13 At Antoine’s
14 At Muswell Hill
15 In Bloomsbury
16 Plan of Campaign
17 In Wandsworth
18 In Queen Victoria Street
19 Enter and Exit Mr Robinson
20 In Harley Street
21 The Three Clues
22 Jane Takes a New Job
23 Anne Morisot
24 A Broken Finger-Nail
25 ‘I Am Afraid’
26 After Dinner Speech
Credits
Copyright
www.agathachristie.com
About the Publisher
Plan of Rear Car ‘Prometheus’
Passengers
Seat
No. 2 Madame Giselle
No. 4 James Ryder
No. 5 Monsieur Armand Dupont
No. 6 Monsieur Jean Dupont
No. 8 Daniel Clancy
No. 9 Hercule Poirot
No. 10 Doctor Bryant
No. 12 Norman Gale
No. 13 The Countess of Horbury
No. 16 Jane Grey
No. 17 The Hon. Venetia Kerr
Chapter 1
Paris to Croydon
The September sun beat down hotly on Le Bourget aerodrome as the passengers crossed the ground and climbed into the air liner Prometheus, due to depart for Croydon in a few minutes’ time.
Jane Grey was among the last to enter and take her seat, No. 16. Some of the passengers had already passed on through the centre door past the tiny pantry-kitchen and the two toilets to the front car. Most people were already seated. On the opposite side of the gangway there was a good deal of chatter—a rather shrill, high-pitched woman’s voice dominating it. Jane’s lips twisted slightly. She knew that particular type of voice so well.
‘My dear—it’s extraordinary—no idea—Where, do you say? Juan les Pins? Oh, yes. No—Le Pinet—Yes, just the same old crowd—But of course let’s sit together. Oh, can’t we? Who—? Oh, I see…’
And then a man’s voice—foreign, polite:
‘—With the greatest of pleasure, Madame.’
Jane stole a glance out of the corner of her eye.
A little elderly man with large moustaches and an egg-shaped head was politely moving himself and his belongings from the seat corresponding to Jane’s on the opposite side of the gangway.
Jane turned her head slightly and got a view of the two women whose unexpected meeting had occasioned this polite action on the stranger’s part. The mention of Le Pinet had stimulated her curiosity, for Jane also had been at Le Pinet.
She remembered one of the women perfectly—remembered how she had seen her last—at the baccarat table, her little hands clenching and unclenching themselves—her delicately made-up Dresden china face flushing and paling alternately. With a little effort, Jane thought, she could have remembered her name. A friend had mentioned it—had said: ‘She’s a peeress, she is, but not one of the proper ones—she was only some chorus girl or other.’
Deep scorn in the friend’s voice. That had been Maisie, who had a first-class job as a masseuse ‘taking off ’ flesh.
The other woman, Jane thought in passing, was the ‘real thing’. The ‘horsey, county type’, thought Jane, and forthwith forgot the two women and interested herself in the view obtainable through the window of Le Bourget aerodrome. Various other machines were standing about. One of them looked like a big metallic centipede.
The one place she was obstinately determined not to look was straight in front of her, where, on the seat opposite, sat a young man.
He was wearing a rather bright periwinkle-blue pullover. Above the pullover Jane was determined not to look. If she did, she might catch his eye, and that would never do!
Mechanics shouted in French—the engine roared—relaxed—roared again—obstructions were pulled away—the plane started.
Jane caught her breath. It was only her second flight. She was still capable of being thrilled. It looked—it looked as though they must run into that fence thing—no, they were off the ground—rising—rising—sweeping round—there was Le Bourget beneath them.
The midday service to Croydon had started. It contained twenty-one passengers