Spider's Web - Agatha Christie [0]
Spider’s Web
Novelised by Charles Osborne
Contents
Chapter 1
Copplestone Court, the elegant, eighteenth-century country home of Henry and…
Chapter 2
Clarissa’s announcement produced a different reaction from each of her…
Chapter 3
‘Hmm. Smashing bun,’ said Pippa with her mouth full, as…
Chapter 4
Miss Peake had by now discarded her boots, and was…
Chapter 5
Clarissa and Sir Rowland had hardly been gone more than…
Chapter 6
As soon as Oliver Costello had left with Miss Peake, Pippa…
Chapter 7
At the golf club, Hugo was busily complaining about Clarissa’s…
Chapter 8
Fifteen minutes later, Clarissa was still in the drawing-room and…
Chapter 9
The three men greeted Clarissa’s announcement in silence. Sir Rowland…
Chapter 10
The older of the two police officers, a stocky, grey-haired…
Chapter 11
The four friends exchanged guiltily furtive glances. Clarissa and Sir…
Chapter 12
The Inspector’s announcement was greeted by Miss Peake with a…
Chapter 13
Ten minutes later, things were somewhat quieter, for Miss Peake…
Chapter 14
The Inspector closed the hall door behind Clarissa, then went…
Chapter 15
Constable Jones, standing at the library door, called, ‘Mr Warrender, please.’
Chapter 16
The Constable opened the library door, calling, ‘Sir Rowland Delahaye.’
Chapter 17
The Constable came back into the room, holding the door…
Chapter 18
Clarissa was silent for a few moments. Then, looking the…
Chapter 19
A few moments later Elgin came into the drawing-room to…
Chapter 20
Startled, Clarissa jumped to her feet. ‘Pippa!’ she cried. ‘What…
Chapter 21
Miss Peake, looking extremely startled at Clarissa’s accusation, seemed for…
Chapter 22
Clarissa’s scream was answered immediately. Sir Rowland came in swiftly…
The Plays of Agatha Christie
About the Author
Other Books by Agatha Christie
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
Copplestone Court, the elegant, eighteenth-century country home of Henry and Clarissa Hailsham-Brown, set in gently undulating hilly country in Kent, looked handsome even at the close of a rainy March afternoon. In the tastefully furnished ground-floor drawing-room, with French windows onto the garden, two men stood near a console table on which there was a tray with three glasses of port, each marked with a sticky label, one, two and three. Also on the table was a pencil and sheet of paper.
Sir Rowland Delahaye, a distinguished-looking man in his early fifties with a charming and cultivated manner, seated himself on the arm of a comfortable chair and allowed his companion to blindfold him. Hugo Birch, a man of about sixty and inclined to be somewhat irascible in manner, then placed in Sir Rowland’s hand one of the glasses from the table. Sir Rowland sipped, considered for a moment, and then said, ‘I should think–yes–definitely–yes, this is the Dow ’forty-two.’
Hugo replaced the glass on the table, murmuring ‘Dow ’forty-two’, made a note on the paper, and handed over the next glass. Again Sir Rowland sipped the wine. He paused, took another sip, and then nodded affirmatively. ‘Ah, yes,’ he declared with conviction. ‘Now, this is a very fine port indeed.’ He took another sip. ‘No doubt about it. Cockburn ’twenty-seven.’
He handed the glass back to Hugo as he continued, ‘Fancy Clarissa wasting a bottle of Cockburn ’twenty-seven on a silly experiment like this. It’s positively sacrilegious. But then women just don’t understand port at all.’
Hugo took the glass from him, noted his verdict on the piece of paper on the table, and handed him the third glass. After a quick sip, Sir Rowland’s reaction was immediate and violent. ‘Ugh!’ he exclaimed in disgust. ‘Rich Ruby port-type wine. I can’t imagine why Clarissa has such a thing in the house.’
His opinion duly noted, he removed the blindfold. ‘Now it’s your turn,’ he told Hugo.
Taking off his horn-rimmed spectacles, Hugo allowed Sir Rowland to blindfold him. ‘Well, I imagine she uses the cheap port for jugged hare or for flavouring soup,’ he suggested. ‘I don’t imagine Henry