The Peril at End House Read Online Free PDF Page A

Madame Ellen would identify it. There would be suggestions, no doubt, of worry or of sleeplessness-'
    Nick moved uneasily.
    'That's true. I have been worried to death. Everybody's been telling me I'm nervy. Yes-they'd say all that...'
    'And bring in a verdict of suicide. Mademoiselle's fingerprints conveniently on the pistol and nobody else's-but yes, it would be very simple and convincing.'
    'How terribly amusing!' said Nick, but not, I was glad to note, as though she were terribly amused.
    Poirot accepted her words in the conventional sense in which they were uttered.
    'N'est ce pas? But you understand, Mademoiselle, there must be no more of this. Four failures-yes-but the fifth time there may be a success.'
    'Bring out your rubber-tyred hearses,' murmured Nick.
    'But we are here, my friend and I, to obviate all that!' I felt grateful for the 'we'. Poirot has a habit of sometimes ignoring my existence.
    'Yes,' I put in. 'You mustn't be alarmed, Miss Buckley. We will protect you.'
    'How frightfully nice of you,' said Nick. 'I think the whole thing is perfectly marvellous. Too, too thrilling.'
    She still preserved her airy detached manner, but her eyes, I thought, looked troubled.
    'And the first thing to do,' said Poirot, 'is to have the consultation.' He sat down and beamed upon her in a friendly manner.
    'To begin with, Mademoiselle, a conventional question-but-have you any enemies?'
    Nick shook her head rather regretfully. 'I'm afraid not,' she said apologetically.
    'Bon. We will dismiss that possibility then. And now we ask the question of the cinema, of the detective novel-Who profits by your death, Mademoiselle?'
    'I can't imagine,' said Nick. 'That's why it all seems such nonsense. There's this beastly old barn, of course, but it's mortgaged up to the hilt, the roof leaks and there can't be a coal mine or anything exciting like that hidden in the cliff.'
    'It is mortgaged-hein?'
    'Yes. I had to mortgage it. You see there were two lots of death duties-quite soon after each other. First my grandfather died-just six years ago, and then my brother. That just about put the lid on the financial position.'
    'And your father?'
    'He was invalided home from the War, then got pneumonia and died in 1919. My mother died when I was a baby. I lived here with grandfather. He and Dad didn't get on (I don't wonder), so Dad found it convenient to park me and go roaming the world on his own account. Gerald-that was my brother-didn't get on with grandfather either. I dare say I shouldn't have got on with him if I'd been a boy. Being a girl saved me. Grandfather used to say I was a chip off the old block and had inherited his spirit.' She laughed. 'He was an awful old rip, I believe. But frightfully lucky. There was a saying round here that everything he touched turned to gold. He was a gambler, though, and gambled it away again. When he died he left hardly anything beside the house and land. I was sixteen when he died and Gerald was twenty-two. Gerald was killed in a motor accident just three years ago and the place came to me.'
    'And after you, Mademoiselle? Who is your nearest relation?'
    'My cousin, Charles. Charles Vyse. He's a lawyer down here. Quite good and worthy but very dull. He gives me good advice and tries to restrain my extravagant tastes.'
    'He manages your affairs for you-eh?'
    'Well-yes, if you like to put it that way. I haven't many affairs to manage. He arranged the mortgage for me and made me let the lodge.'
    'Ah!-the lodge. I was going to ask you about that. It is let?'
    'Yes-to some Australians. Croft their name is. Very hearty, you know-and all that sort of thing. Simply oppressively kind. Always bringing up sticks of celery and early peas and things like that. They're shocked at the way I let the garden go. They're rather a nuisance, really-at least he is. Too terribly friendly for words. She's a cripple, poor thing, and lies on a sofa all day. Anyway they pay the rent and that's the great thing.'
    'How long have