Postern of Fate (Tommy and Tuppence Series) - Agatha Christie [98]
‘I’ll give you a few reasons,’ said Tommy, plucking a sheet of paper from his pocket and reading aloud:
‘Black Arrow
Alexander Parkinson
Oxford and Cambridge
Victorian china garden stools
Grin-hen-lo
KK
Mathilde’s stomach
Cain and Abel
Gallant Truelove’
‘Shut up, Tommy–that’s my list. It’s nothing to do with you,’ said Tuppence.
‘But what does it mean?’ asked Janet, continuing her quiz.
‘It sounds like a list of clues from a detective story,’ said Andrew, who in his less poetical moments was addicted to that form of literature.
‘It is a list of clues. It’s the reason why we are looking for another house,’ said Tommy.
‘But I like it here,’ said Janet, ‘it’s lovely.’
‘It’s a nice house,’ said Rosalie. ‘Chocolate biscuits,’ she added, with memories of recently eaten tea.
‘I like it,’ said Andrew, speaking as an autocratic Czar of Russia might speak.
‘Why don’t you like it, Grandma?’ asked Janet.
‘I do like it,’ said Tuppence with a sudden unexpected enthusiasm. ‘I want to live here–to go on living here.’
‘Postern of Fate,’ said Andrew. ‘It’s an exciting name.’
‘It used to be called Swallow’s Nest,’ said Tuppence. ‘We could call it that again–’
‘All those clues,’ said Andrew. ‘You could make a story out of them–even a book–’
‘Too many names, too complicated,’ said Deborah. ‘Who’d read a book like that?’
‘You’d be surprised,’ said Tommy, ‘what people will read–and enjoy!’
Tommy and Tuppence looked at each other.
‘Couldn’t I get some paint tomorrow?’ asked Andrew. ‘Or Albert could get some and he’d help me. We’d paint the new name on the gate.’
‘And then the swallows would know they could come back next summer,’ said Janet.
She looked at her mother.
‘Not at all a bad idea,’ said Deborah.
‘La Reine le veult,’ said Tommy and bowed to his daughter, who always considered that giving the Royal assent in the family was her perquisite.
Chapter 17
Last Words: Dinner with Mr Robinson
‘What a lovely meal,’ said Tuppence. She looked round at the assembled company.
They had passed from the dining table and were now assembled in the library round the coffee table.
Mr Robinson, as yellow and even larger than Tuppence had visualized him, was smiling behind a big and beautiful George II coffee-pot–next to him was Mr Crispin, now, it seemed, answering to the name of Horsham. Colonel Pikeaway sat next to Tommy, who had, rather doubtfully, offered him one of his own cigarettes.
Colonel Pikeaway, with an expression of surprise, said: ‘I never smoke after dinner.’
Miss Collodon, whom Tuppence had found rather alarming, said, ‘Indeed, Colonel Pikeaway? How very, very interesting.’ She turned her head towards Tuppence. ‘What a very well-behaved dog you have got, Mrs Beresford!’
Hannibal, who was lying under the table with his head resting on Tuppence’s foot, looked out with his misleading best angelic expression and moved his tail gently.
‘I understood he was a very fierce dog,’ said Mr Robinson, casting an amused glance at Tuppence.
‘You should see him in action,’ said Mr Crispin–alias Horsham.
‘He has party manners when he is asked out to dinner,’ explained Tuppence. ‘He loves it, feels he’s really a prestige dog going into high society.’ She turned to Mr Robinson. ‘It was really very, very nice of you to send him an invitation and to have a plateful of liver ready for him. He loves liver.’
‘All dogs love liver,’ said Mr Robinson. ‘I understand–’ he looked at Crispin-Horsham–‘that if I were to pay a visit to Mr and Mrs Beresford at their own home I might be torn to pieces.’
‘Hannibal takes his duties very seriously,’ said Mr Crispin. ‘He’s a well-bred guard dog and never forgets it.’
‘You understand his feelings, of course, as a security officer,’ said Mr Robinson.
His eyes twinkled.
‘You and your husband have done a very remarkable piece of work, Mrs Beresford,’ said Mr Robinson. ‘We are indebted to you. Colonel Pikeaway tells me that you were the initiator in the affair.’
‘It just happened,’ said Tuppence, embarrassed. ‘I got–well–curious. I wanted to find out–about certain