Reading Help The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie. Ch.I-VI
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`
` THE MYSTERIOUS AFFAIR AT STYLES `
` `
` AGATHA CHRISTIE `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` CONTENTS `
` `
` I. I GO TO STYLES `
` II. THE 16TH AND 17TH OF JULY `
` III. THE NIGHT OF THE TRAGEDY `
` IV. POIROT INVESTIGATES `
` V. "IT ISN'T STRYCHNINE, IS IT?" `
` VI. THE INQUEST `
` VII. POIROT PAYS HIS DEBTS `
` VIII. FRESH SUSPICIONS `
` IX. DR. BAUERSTEIN `
` X. THE ARREST `
` XI. THE CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION `
` XII. THE LAST LINK `
` XIII. POIROT EXPLAINS `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER I. `
` `
` I GO TO STYLES `
` `
` `
` The intense interest aroused in the public by what was known at `
` the time as "The Styles Case" has now somewhat subsided. `
` Nevertheless, in view of the world-wide notoriety which attended `
` it, I have been asked, both by my friend Poirot and the family `
` themselves, to write an account of the whole story. This, we `
` trust, will effectually silence the sensational rumours which `
` still persist. `
` `
` I will therefore briefly set down the circumstances which led to `
` my being connected with the affair. `
` `
` I had been invalided home from the Front; and, after spending `
` some months in a rather depressing Convalescent Home, was given a `
` month's sick leave. Having no near relations or friends, I was `
` trying to make up my mind what to do, when I ran across John `
` Cavendish. I had seen very little of him for some years. `
` Indeed, I had never known him particularly well. He was a good `
` fifteen years my senior, for one thing, though he hardly looked `
` his forty-five years. As a boy, though, I had often stayed at `
` Styles, his mother's place in Essex. `
` `
` We had a good yarn about old times, and it ended in his inviting `
` me down to Styles to spend my leave there. `
` `
` "The mater will be delighted to see you again--after all those `
` years," he added. `
` `
` "Your mother keeps well?" I asked. `
` `
` "Oh, yes. I suppose you know that she has married again?" `
` `
` I am afraid I showed my surprise rather plainly. Mrs. Cavendish, `
` who had married John's father when he was a widower with two `
` sons, had been a handsome woman of middle-age as I remembered `
` her. She certainly could not be a day less than seventy now. I `
` recalled her as an energetic, autocratic personality, somewhat `
` inclined to charitable and social notoriety, with a fondness for `
` opening bazaars and playing the Lady Bountiful. She was a most `
` generous woman, and possessed a considerable fortune of her own. `
` `
` Their country-place, Styles Court, had been purchased by Mr. `
` Cavendish early in their married life. He had been completely `
` under his wife's ascendancy, so much so that, on dying, he left `
` the place to her for her lifetime, as well as the larger part of `
` his income; an arrangement that was distinctly unfair to his two `
` sons. Their step-mother, however, had always been most generous `
` to them; indeed, they were so young at the time of their father's `
` remarriage that they always thought of her as their own mother. `
` `
` Lawrence, the younger, had been a delicate youth. He had `
` qualified as a doctor but early relinquished the profession of `
` medicine, and lived at home while pursuing literary ambitions; `
` though his verses never had any marked success. `
` `
` John practiced for some time as a barrister, but had finally `
` settled down to the more congenial life of a country squire. He `
` had married two years ago, and had taken his wife to live at `
` Styles, though I entertained a shrewd suspicion that he would `
` have preferred his mother to increase his allowance, which would `
` have enabled him to have a home of his own. Mrs. Cavendish, `
` however, was a lady who liked to make her own plans, and expected `
` other people to fall in with them, and in this case she certainly `
` had the whip hand, namely: the purse strings. `
` `
` John noticed my surprise at the news of his mother's remarriage `
` and smiled rather ruefully. `
` `
` "Rotten little bounder too!" he said savagely. "I can tell you, `
` Hastings, it's making life jolly difficult for us. As for `
` Evie--you remember Evie?" `
` `
` "No." `
` `
` "Oh, I suppose she was after your time. She's the mater's `
` factotum, companion, Jack of all trades! A great sport--old Evie! `
` Not precisely young and beautiful, but as game as they make `
` them." `
` `
` "You were going to say----?" `
` `
` "Oh, this fellow! He turned up from nowhere, on the pretext of `
` being a second cousin or something of Evie's, though she didn't `
` seem particularly keen to acknowledge the relationship. The `
` fellow is an absolute outsider, anyone can see that. He's got a `
` great black beard, and wears patent leather boots in all `
` weathers! But the mater cottoned to him at once, took him on as `
` secretary--you know how she's always running a hundred `
` societies?" `
` `
` I nodded. `
` `
` "Well, of course the war has turned the hundreds into thousands. `
` No doubt the fellow was very useful to her. But you could have `
` knocked us all down with a feather when, three months ago, she `
` suddenly announced that she and Alfred were engaged! The fellow `
` must be at least twenty years younger than she is! It's simply `
` bare-faced fortune hunting; but there you are--she is her own `
` mistress, and she's married him." `
` `
` "It must be a difficult situation for you all." `
` `
` "Difficult! It's damnable!" `
` `
` Thus it came about that, three days later, I descended from the `
` train at Styles St. Mary, an absurd little station, with no `
` apparent reason for existence, perched up in the midst of green `
` fields and country lanes. John Cavendish was waiting on the `
` platform, and piloted me out to the car. `
` `
` "Got a drop or two of petrol still, you see," he remarked. `
` "Mainly owing to the mater's activities." `
` `
` The village of Styles St. Mary was situated about two miles from `
` the little station, and Styles Court lay a mile the other side of `
` it. It was a still, warm day in early July. As one looked out `
` over the flat Essex country, lying so green and peaceful under `
` the afternoon sun, it seemed almost impossible to believe that, `
` not so very far away, a great war was running its appointed `
` course. I felt I had suddenly strayed into another world. As we `
` turned in at the lodge gates, John said: `
` `
` "I'm afraid you'll find it very quiet down here, Hastings." `
` `
` "My dear fellow, that's just what I want." `
` `
` "Oh, it's pleasant enough if you want to lead the idle life. I `
` drill with the volunteers twice a week, and lend a hand at the `
` farms. My wife works regularly 'on the land'. She is up at five `
` every morning to milk, and keeps at it steadily until lunchtime. `
` It's a jolly good life taking it all round--if it weren't for `
` that fellow Alfred Inglethorp!" He checked the car suddenly, and `
` glanced at his watch. "I wonder if we've time to pick up `
` Cynthia. No, she'll have started from the hospital by now." `
` `
` "Cynthia! That's not your wife?" `
` `
` "No, Cynthia is a protegee of my mother's, the daughter of an old `
` schoolfellow of hers, who married a rascally solicitor. He came `
` a cropper, and the girl was left an orphan and penniless. My `
` mother came to the rescue, and Cynthia has been with us nearly `
` two years now. She works in the Red Cross Hospital at `
` Tadminster, seven miles away." `
` `
` As he spoke the last words, we drew up in front of the fine old `
` house. A lady in a stout tweed skirt, who was bending over a `
` flower bed, straightened herself at our approach. `
` `
` "Hullo, Evie, here's our wounded hero! Mr. Hastings--Miss `
` Howard." `
` `
` Miss Howard shook hands with a hearty, almost painful, grip. I `
` had an impression of very blue eyes in a sunburnt face. She was `
` a pleasant-looking woman of about forty, with a deep voice, `
` almost manly in its stentorian tones, and had a large sensible `
` square body, with feet to match--these last encased in good thick `
` boots. Her conversation, I soon found, was couched in the `
` telegraphic style. `
` `
` "Weeds grow like house afire. Can't keep even with 'em. Shall `
` press you in. Better be careful." `
` `
` "I'm sure I shall be only too delighted to make myself useful," I `
` responded. `
` `
` "Don't say it. Never does. Wish you hadn't later." `
` `
` "You're a cynic, Evie," said John, laughing. "Where's tea `
`
` THE MYSTERIOUS AFFAIR AT STYLES `
` `
` AGATHA CHRISTIE `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` CONTENTS `
` `
` I. I GO TO STYLES `
` II. THE 16TH AND 17TH OF JULY `
` III. THE NIGHT OF THE TRAGEDY `
` IV. POIROT INVESTIGATES `
` V. "IT ISN'T STRYCHNINE, IS IT?" `
` VI. THE INQUEST `
` VII. POIROT PAYS HIS DEBTS `
` VIII. FRESH SUSPICIONS `
` IX. DR. BAUERSTEIN `
` X. THE ARREST `
` XI. THE CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION `
` XII. THE LAST LINK `
` XIII. POIROT EXPLAINS `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER I. `
` `
` I GO TO STYLES `
` `
` `
` The intense interest aroused in the public by what was known at `
` the time as "The Styles Case" has now somewhat subsided. `
` Nevertheless, in view of the world-wide notoriety which attended `
` it, I have been asked, both by my friend Poirot and the family `
` themselves, to write an account of the whole story. This, we `
` trust, will effectually silence the sensational rumours which `
` still persist. `
` `
` I will therefore briefly set down the circumstances which led to `
` my being connected with the affair. `
` `
` I had been invalided home from the Front; and, after spending `
` some months in a rather depressing Convalescent Home, was given a `
` month's sick leave. Having no near relations or friends, I was `
` trying to make up my mind what to do, when I ran across John `
` Cavendish. I had seen very little of him for some years. `
` Indeed, I had never known him particularly well. He was a good `
` fifteen years my senior, for one thing, though he hardly looked `
` his forty-five years. As a boy, though, I had often stayed at `
` Styles, his mother's place in Essex. `
` `
` We had a good yarn about old times, and it ended in his inviting `
` me down to Styles to spend my leave there. `
` `
` "The mater will be delighted to see you again--after all those `
` years," he added. `
` `
` "Your mother keeps well?" I asked. `
` `
` "Oh, yes. I suppose you know that she has married again?" `
` `
` I am afraid I showed my surprise rather plainly. Mrs. Cavendish, `
` who had married John's father when he was a widower with two `
` sons, had been a handsome woman of middle-age as I remembered `
` her. She certainly could not be a day less than seventy now. I `
` recalled her as an energetic, autocratic personality, somewhat `
` inclined to charitable and social notoriety, with a fondness for `
` opening bazaars and playing the Lady Bountiful. She was a most `
` generous woman, and possessed a considerable fortune of her own. `
` `
` Their country-place, Styles Court, had been purchased by Mr. `
` Cavendish early in their married life. He had been completely `
` under his wife's ascendancy, so much so that, on dying, he left `
` the place to her for her lifetime, as well as the larger part of `
` his income; an arrangement that was distinctly unfair to his two `
` sons. Their step-mother, however, had always been most generous `
` to them; indeed, they were so young at the time of their father's `
` remarriage that they always thought of her as their own mother. `
` `
` Lawrence, the younger, had been a delicate youth. He had `
` qualified as a doctor but early relinquished the profession of `
` medicine, and lived at home while pursuing literary ambitions; `
` though his verses never had any marked success. `
` `
` John practiced for some time as a barrister, but had finally `
` settled down to the more congenial life of a country squire. He `
` had married two years ago, and had taken his wife to live at `
` Styles, though I entertained a shrewd suspicion that he would `
` have preferred his mother to increase his allowance, which would `
` have enabled him to have a home of his own. Mrs. Cavendish, `
` however, was a lady who liked to make her own plans, and expected `
` other people to fall in with them, and in this case she certainly `
` had the whip hand, namely: the purse strings. `
` `
` John noticed my surprise at the news of his mother's remarriage `
` and smiled rather ruefully. `
` `
` "Rotten little bounder too!" he said savagely. "I can tell you, `
` Hastings, it's making life jolly difficult for us. As for `
` Evie--you remember Evie?" `
` `
` "No." `
` `
` "Oh, I suppose she was after your time. She's the mater's `
` factotum, companion, Jack of all trades! A great sport--old Evie! `
` Not precisely young and beautiful, but as game as they make `
` them." `
` `
` "You were going to say----?" `
` `
` "Oh, this fellow! He turned up from nowhere, on the pretext of `
` being a second cousin or something of Evie's, though she didn't `
` seem particularly keen to acknowledge the relationship. The `
` fellow is an absolute outsider, anyone can see that. He's got a `
` great black beard, and wears patent leather boots in all `
` weathers! But the mater cottoned to him at once, took him on as `
` secretary--you know how she's always running a hundred `
` societies?" `
` `
` I nodded. `
` `
` "Well, of course the war has turned the hundreds into thousands. `
` No doubt the fellow was very useful to her. But you could have `
` knocked us all down with a feather when, three months ago, she `
` suddenly announced that she and Alfred were engaged! The fellow `
` must be at least twenty years younger than she is! It's simply `
` bare-faced fortune hunting; but there you are--she is her own `
` mistress, and she's married him." `
` `
` "It must be a difficult situation for you all." `
` `
` "Difficult! It's damnable!" `
` `
` Thus it came about that, three days later, I descended from the `
` train at Styles St. Mary, an absurd little station, with no `
` apparent reason for existence, perched up in the midst of green `
` fields and country lanes. John Cavendish was waiting on the `
` platform, and piloted me out to the car. `
` `
` "Got a drop or two of petrol still, you see," he remarked. `
` "Mainly owing to the mater's activities." `
` `
` The village of Styles St. Mary was situated about two miles from `
` the little station, and Styles Court lay a mile the other side of `
` it. It was a still, warm day in early July. As one looked out `
` over the flat Essex country, lying so green and peaceful under `
` the afternoon sun, it seemed almost impossible to believe that, `
` not so very far away, a great war was running its appointed `
` course. I felt I had suddenly strayed into another world. As we `
` turned in at the lodge gates, John said: `
` `
` "I'm afraid you'll find it very quiet down here, Hastings." `
` `
` "My dear fellow, that's just what I want." `
` `
` "Oh, it's pleasant enough if you want to lead the idle life. I `
` drill with the volunteers twice a week, and lend a hand at the `
` farms. My wife works regularly 'on the land'. She is up at five `
` every morning to milk, and keeps at it steadily until lunchtime. `
` It's a jolly good life taking it all round--if it weren't for `
` that fellow Alfred Inglethorp!" He checked the car suddenly, and `
` glanced at his watch. "I wonder if we've time to pick up `
` Cynthia. No, she'll have started from the hospital by now." `
` `
` "Cynthia! That's not your wife?" `
` `
` "No, Cynthia is a protegee of my mother's, the daughter of an old `
` schoolfellow of hers, who married a rascally solicitor. He came `
` a cropper, and the girl was left an orphan and penniless. My `
` mother came to the rescue, and Cynthia has been with us nearly `
` two years now. She works in the Red Cross Hospital at `
` Tadminster, seven miles away." `
` `
` As he spoke the last words, we drew up in front of the fine old `
` house. A lady in a stout tweed skirt, who was bending over a `
` flower bed, straightened herself at our approach. `
` `
` "Hullo, Evie, here's our wounded hero! Mr. Hastings--Miss `
` Howard." `
` `
` Miss Howard shook hands with a hearty, almost painful, grip. I `
` had an impression of very blue eyes in a sunburnt face. She was `
` a pleasant-looking woman of about forty, with a deep voice, `
` almost manly in its stentorian tones, and had a large sensible `
` square body, with feet to match--these last encased in good thick `
` boots. Her conversation, I soon found, was couched in the `
` telegraphic style. `
` `
` "Weeds grow like house afire. Can't keep even with 'em. Shall `
` press you in. Better be careful." `
` `
` "I'm sure I shall be only too delighted to make myself useful," I `
` responded. `
` `
` "Don't say it. Never does. Wish you hadn't later." `
` `
` "You're a cynic, Evie," said John, laughing. "Where's tea `
`