Listerdale Mystery - Agatha Christie [71]
‘You see, it’s like this.’ She paused. ‘I feel girls should stick together nowadays–they should insist on knowing something about the men they meet.’
‘Well?’ said George, utterly fogged.
‘And the most important thing to a girl is how a man will behave in an emergency–has he got presence of mind–courage–quick wittedness? That’s the kind of thing you can hardly ever know–until it’s too late. An emergency mightn’t arise until you’d been married for years. All you do know about a man is how he dances and if he’s good at getting taxis on a wet night.’
‘Both very useful accomplishments,’ George pointed out.
‘Yes, but one wants to feel a man is a man.’
‘The great wide-open spaces where men are men.’ George quoted absently.
‘Exactly. But we have no wide-open spaces in England. So one has to create a situation artificially. That’s what I did.’
‘Do you mean–?’
‘I do mean. That house, as it happens, actually is my house. We came to it by design–not by chance. And the man–that man that you nearly killed–’
‘Yes?’
‘He’s Rube Wallace–the film actor. He does prizefighters, you know. The dearest and gentlest of men. I engaged him. Bella’s his wife. That’s why I was so terrified that you’d killed him. Of course the revolver wasn’t loaded. It’s a stage property. Oh, George, are you very angry?’ ‘Am I the first person you have–er–tried this test on?’
‘Oh, no. There have been–let me see–nine and a half!’
‘Who was the half?’ inquired George with curiosity.
‘Bingo,’ replied Mary coldly.
‘Did any of them think of kicking like a mule?’
‘No–they didn’t. Some tried to bluster and some gave in at once, but they all allowed themselves to be marched upstairs and tied up, and gagged. Then, of course, I managed to work myself loose from my bonds–like in books–and I freed them and we got away–finding the house empty.’
‘And nobody thought of the mule trick or anything like it?’ ‘No.’
‘In that case,’ said George graciously, ‘I forgive you.’
‘Thank you, George,’ said Mary meekly.
‘In fact,’ said George, ‘the only question that arises is: where do we go now? I’m not sure if it’s Lambeth Palace or Doctor’s Commons, wherever that is.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘The licence. A special licence, I think, is indicated. You’re too fond of getting engaged to one man and then immediately asking another one to marry you.’
‘I didn’t ask you to marry me!’
‘You did. At Hyde Park Corner. Not a place I should choose for a proposal myself, but everyone has their idiosyncrasies in these matters.’
‘I did nothing of the kind. I just asked, as a joke, whether you would care to marry me? It wasn’t intended seriously.’
‘If I were to take counsel’s opinion, I am sure that he would say it constituted a genuine proposal. Besides, you know you want to marry me.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Not after nine and a half failures? Fancy what a feeling of security it will give you to go through life with a man who can extricate you from any dangerous situation.’
Mary appeared to weaken slightly at this telling argument. But she said firmly: ‘I wouldn’t marry any man unless he went on his knees to me.’
George looked at her. She was adorable. But George had other characteristics of the mule beside its kick. He said with equal firmness:
‘To go on one’s knees to any woman is degrading. I will not do it.’
Mary said with enchanting wistfulness: ‘What a pity.’
They drove back to London. George was stern and silent. Mary’s face was hidden by the brim of her hat. As they passed Hyde Park Corner, she murmured softly:
‘Couldn’t you go on your knees to me?’
George said firmly: ‘No.’
He felt he was being a superman. She admired him for his attitude. But unluckily he suspected her of mulish tendencies herself. He drew up suddenly.
‘Excuse me,’ he said.
He jumped out of the car, retraced his steps to a fruit barrow they had just passed and returned so quickly that the policeman who was bearing down upon them to ask what they meant by it, had not had time to arrive.
George drove on, lightly tossing an apple into Mary’s lap.
‘Eat more fruit,’ he said. ‘Also symbolical.