Postern of Fate (Tommy and Tuppence Series) - Agatha Christie [57]
‘Well, why should anyone clean it out? Why would anyone want to clean it out?’
‘That’s true,’ said Tuppence. ‘We do, though, don’t we?’
‘Only because we can’t think of anything better to do. I don’t think anything will come of it though. Ow!’
‘What’s the matter?’ said Tuppence.
‘Oh, I scratched myself on something.’
He drew his arm out slightly, readjusted it, and felt inside once more. A knitted scarf rewarded him. It had clearly been the sustenance of moths at one time and possibly after that had descended to an even lower level of social life.
‘Disgusting,’ said Tommy.
Tuppence pushed him aside slightly and fished in with her own arm, leaning over Mathilde while she felt about inside.
‘Mind the nails,’ said Tommy.
‘What’s this?’ said Tuppence.
She brought her find out into the open air. It appeared to be the wheel off a bus or cart or some child’s toy.
‘I think,’ she said, ‘we’re wasting our time.’
‘I’m sure we are,’ said Tommy.
‘All the same, we might as well do it properly,’ said Tuppence. ‘Oh dear, I’ve got three spiders walking up my arm. It’ll be a worm in a minute and I hate worms.’
‘I don’t think there’ll be any worms inside Mathilde. I mean, worms like going underground in the earth. I don’t think they’d care for Mathilde as a boardinghouse, do you?’
‘Oh well, it’s getting empty at any rate, I think,’ said Tuppence. ‘Hullo, what’s this? Dear me, it seems to be a needle book. What a funny thing to find. There’s still some needles in it but they’re all rusted.’
‘Some child who didn’t like to do her sewing, I expect,’ said Tommy.
‘Yes, that’s a good idea.’
‘I touched something that felt like a book just now,’ said Tommy.
‘Oh. Well, that might be helpful. What part of Mathilde?’
‘I should thing the appendix or the liver,’ said Tommy in a professional tone. ‘On her right-hand side. I’m regarding this as an operation!’ he added.
‘All right, Surgeon. Better pull it out, whatever it is.’
The so-called book, barely recognizable as such, was of ancient lineage. Its pages were loose and stained, and its binding was coming to pieces.
‘It seems to be a manual of French,’ said Tommy. ‘Pour les enfants. Le Petit Précepteur.’
‘I see,’ said Tuppence. ‘I’ve got the same idea as you had. The child didn’t want to learn her French lesson; so she came in here and deliberately lost it by putting it into Mathilde. Good old Mathilde.’
‘If Mathilde was right side up, it must have been very difficult putting things through this hole in her stomach.’
‘Not for a child,’ said Tuppence. ‘She’d be quite the right height and everything. I mean, she’d kneel and crawl underneath it. Hullo, here’s something which feels slippery. Feels rather like an animal’s skin.’
‘How very unpleasant,’ said Tommy. ‘Do you think it’s a dead rabbit or something?’
‘Well, it’s not furry or anything. I don’t think it’s very nice. Oh dear, there’s a nail again. Well, it seems to be hung on a nail. There’s a sort of bit of string or cord. Funny it hasn’t rotted away, isn’t it?’
She drew out her find cautiously.
‘It’s a pocket-book,’ she said. ‘Yes. Yes, it’s been quite good leather once, I think. Quite good leather.’
‘Let’s see what’s inside it, if there is anything inside it,’ said Tommy.
‘There’s something inside it,’ said Tuppence.
‘Perhaps it’s a lot of five pound notes,’ she added hopefully.
‘Well, I don’t suppose they’d be usable still. Paper would rot, wouldn’t it?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Tuppence. ‘A lot of queer things do survive, you know. I think five pound notes used to be made of wonderfully good paper once, you know. Sort of thin but very durable.’
‘Oh well, perhaps it’s a twenty pound note. It will help with the housekeeping.’
‘What? The money’ll be before Isaac’s time too, I expect, or else he’d have found it. Ah well. Think! It might be a hundred pound note. I wish it were golden sovereigns. Sovereigns were always in