Postern of Fate (Tommy and Tuppence Series) - Agatha Christie [69]
‘Don’t get so worked up.’
‘I am worked up. And I’m not doing anything for fun any more. This isn’t fun. We’re doing something different now, Tommy. We’re hunting down a killer. But who? Of course we don’t know yet but we can find out. That’s not the past, that’s Now. That’s something that happened–what–only days ago, six days ago. That’s the present. It’s here and it’s connected with us and it’s connected with this house. And we’ve got to find out and we’re going to find out. I don’t know how but we’ve got to go after all the clues and follow up things. I feel like a dog with my nose to the ground, following a trail. I’ll have to follow it here, and you’ve got to be a hunting dog. Go round to different places. The way you’re doing now. Finding out about things. Getting your–whatever you call it–research done. There must be people who know things, not of their own knowledge, but what people have told them. Stories they’ve heard. Rumours. Gossip.’
‘But, Tuppence, you can’t really believe there’s any chance of our–’
‘Oh yes I do,’ said Tuppence. ‘I don’t know how or in what way, but I believe that when you’ve got a real, convincing idea, something that you know is black and bad and evil, and hitting old Isaac on the head was black and evil…’ She stopped.
‘We could change the name of the house again,’ said Tommy.
‘What do you mean? Call it Swallow’s Nest and not The Laurels?’
A flight of birds passed over their heads. Tuppence turned her head and looked back towards the garden gate. ‘Swallow’s Nest was once its name. What’s the rest of that quotation? The one your researcher quoted. Postern of Death, wasn’t it?’
‘No, Postern of Fate.’
‘Fate. That’s like a comment on what has happened to Isaac. Postern of Fate–our Garden Gate–’
‘Don’t worry so much, Tuppence.’
‘I don’t know why,’ said Tuppence. ‘It’s just a sort of idea that came into my mind.’
Tommy gave her a puzzled look and shook his head.
‘Swallow’s nest is a nice name, really,’ said Tuppence. ‘Or it could be. Perhaps it will some day.’
‘You have the most extraordinary ideas, Tuppence.’
‘Yet something singeth like a bird. That was how it ended. Perhaps all this will end that way.’
Just before they reached the house, Tommy and Tuppence saw a woman standing on the doorstep.
‘I wonder who that is,’ said Tommy.
‘Someone I’ve seen before,’ said Tuppence. ‘I don’t remember who at the moment. Oh. I think it’s one of old Isaac’s family. You know they all lived together in one cottage. About three or four boys and this woman and another one, a girl. I may be wrong, of course.’
The woman on the doorstep had turned and came towards them.
‘Mrs Beresford, isn’t it?’ she said, looking at Tuppence.
‘Yes,’ said Tuppence.
‘And–I don’t expect you know me. I’m Isaac’s daughter-in-law, you know. Married to his son, Stephen, I was. Stephen–he got killed in an accident. One of them lorries. The big ones that go along. It was on one of the M roads, the M1 I think it was. M1 or the M5. No, the M5 was before that. The M4 it could be. Anyway, there it was. Five or six years ago it was. I wanted to–I wanted just to speak to you. You and–you and your husband–’ She looked at Tommy. ‘You sent flowers, didn’t you, to the funeral? Isaac worked in the garden here for you, didn’t he?’
‘Yes,’ said Tuppence. ‘He did work for us here. It was such a terrible thing to have happened.’
‘I came to thank you. Very lovely flowers they was, too. Good ones. Classy ones. A great bunch of them.’
‘We thought we’d like to do it,’ said Tuppence, ‘because Isaac had been very helpful to us. He’d helped us a lot, you know, with getting into the house. Telling us about things, because we don’t know much about