Murde
Hazelrnoor
Agatha Christie
On a cold, snowy winter evening,
six members of the tiny community of
Sittaford are engaged in an amusing
seance of table turning when suddenly
there is a loud rap. The name of
T-R-E-V-E-L-Y-A-N is spelled out,
then slowly the table rocks out the
letters M-U-R-D-E-R. One of the par-tieipants
in the seance, retired Major
Burnaby, is an old friend of Captain
Joseph Trevelyan. While protesting
that he "doesn't believe in this tommyrot,''
the Major is sufficiently disturbed
by the eerie incident to slog his'
way on foot through the blizzard to
Captain Trevelyan's cottage in Ex-hampton,
six miles away.
Captain Trevelyan has indeed been
murdered. He has been dead for two,
possibly three hours.., about the
time of the message from the "spirit
world." Inspector Narracott is called
in on the case, and, on circumstantial
evidence, arrests James Pearson, a
nephew of the old Captain. Pearson's fiancee , Emily Trefusis, promptly
goes to work to prove his innocence ·.. by proving someone else's guilt.
Written in 1929, this vintage Christie
remains a thoroughly satisfactory
read. As one of the reviewers said at
the time of its original publication,
"You can't go wrong with this one."
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Murder al:
Hazelmoor
The Winterbrook Edition
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
New York
II I II II I II I
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This volume is one in the new,
uniform edition of Agatha Christie's mysteries,
completely reset in a modern typeface.
Copyright 93a by Agatha Christie. Copyright renewed x959
by Agatha Christie Mallowan.
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form
without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Dodd, Mead & Company, Inc.
7x Fifth Avenue, New York, NY ooo3
Distributed in Canada by
McClelland and Stewart Limited, Toronto
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Christie, Agatha, 89ox976.
Murder at Hazelmoor.
I. Title.
PR6oo5. H66M64x8 987 823'.9 863835
ISBN 0396090133
17191
TI :ORNCLIFFE BRA? CH LIBRARY
To
MoEoM
With whom I discussed the plot of this
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Contents
.
Sittaford House
2.
The Message
3.
Five and Twenty Past Five
4.
Inspector Narracott
5.
Evans
6.
At the Three Crowns
7. The Will
8. Mr. Charles Enderby
9. The Laurels
o. The Pearson Family
. Emily Sets to Work
2. The Arrest
3. Sittaford
4. The Willetts
5. Visit to Major Burnaby
6. Mr. Rycroft
7. Miss Percehouse
8. Emily Visits Sittaford House
9. Theories
1
2
9
1(5
112
120
129
139
15)
16)
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20. Visit to Aunt Jennifer
170
2x. Conversations
182
22. Nocturnal Adventures of Charles
197
23. At Hazelmoor
203
24. Inspector Narracott Discusses the Case
212
25. At Deller's Caf
222
26. Robert Gardner
228
27. Narracott Acts
235
28. Boots
241
29. The Second Sance
251
3o. Emily Explains
263
31. The Lucky Man
270
Murder at Hazelmoor
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Sittaford House
M A J O R Burnaby drew on his gum boots, buttoned his
overcoat collar round his neck, took from a shelf near
the door a hurricane lantern, and cautiously opened the
front door of his little bungalow and peered out.
The scene that met his eyes was typical of the English
countryside as depicted on Xmas cards and in old-fashioned
melodramas. Everywhere was snow, deep drifts
of it--no mere powdering an inch or two thick. Snow
had fallen all over England for the last four days, and up
here on the fringe of Dartmoor it had attained a depth
of several feet. All over England householders were
groaning over burst pipes, and to have a plumber friend
(or even a plumber's mate) wa
s the most coveted of all
distinctions.
Up here, in the tiny village of Sittaford, at all times
remote from the world, and now almost completely cut
off, the rigors of winter were a very real problem.
Major Burnaby, however, was a hardy soul. He snorted
twice, grunted once, and marched resolutely out into
the snow.
His destination was not far away. A few paces along a
winding lane, then in at a gate, and so up a drive partially
swept clear of snow to a house of some considerable size
built of granite.
The door was opened by a neatly clad parlormaid. The
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Agatha Christie
Major was divested of his British Warm, his gum boots
and his aged scarf.
A door was flung open and he passed through it into
a room which conveyed all the illusion of a transformation
scene.
Although it was only half past three the curtains had
been drawn, the electric lights were on and a huge fire
blazed cheerfully on the hearth. Two women in afternoon
frocks rose to greet the stanch old warrior.
"Spendid of you to turn out, Major Burnaby," said the
elder of the two.
"Not at all, Mrs. Willett, not at all. Very good of you
to ask me." He shook hands with them both.
"Mr. Garfield is coming," went on Mrs. Willett, "and
Mr. Duke, and Mr. Byero{i said he would come--but
one can hardly expect him at his age in such weather.
Beally, it is too dreadful. One feels one must do something
to keep oneself cheerful. Violet, put another log
on the fire."
The Major rose gallantly to perform this task.
"Allow me, Miss Violet."
He put the log expertly in the right place and returned
once more to the armchair his hostess had indicated.
Trying not to appear as though he were doing so, he east
surreptitious glances round the room. Amazing how a
couple of women could alter the whole character of a
room--and without doing anything very outstanding that
you could put your finger on.
Sittaford House had been built ten years ago by Captain
Joseph Trevelyan, B.N., on the occasion of his re
Murder at Hazelmoor
tirement from the Navy. He was a man of substance,
and he had a/ways had a great hankering to live on Dart-moor.
He had placed his ch¢-.'ce on the tiny hamlet of
Sittaford. It was not in a valley like most of the villages
and farms, but perched right on the shoulder of the moor
under the shadow of Sittaibrd Beacon. He had purchased
a large tract of grotmd, had built a comfortable house
with its own electric light plant and an electric pump to
save labor in pumping water. Then, as a speculation, he
had built six small bungalows, each in its quarter acre of
ground, along the laue.
The first of these, the one at his very gates, had been
allotted to his old friend and crony, John Burnabv--th
others had by degrees been sold, there being sti
v
people who
l'la fe
from choice or necessity like to live right
out of the world. The village itself consisted of three
picturesque but dilapidated cottages, a forge, and a com
b/ned
post office and sweet shop. The nearest town was
Exhampton, six miles away, a steady descent which ne
cessitated the sign, "Motorists engage your lowest gear,"
so familiar on the Dartmoor roads.
Captain Trevelyan, as has been said, was a man of
substance. In spite of this--or perhaps because of it--
he was a man who was inordinately fbnd of money. At
the end of October a house-agent in Exhampton wrote
to him asking ffhe would consider letting Sitt'aford House.
A tenant had made inquiries concerning it, wishing to
rent it for the winter.
Captain T ,
'
rex elyan s first impulse was to refuse, his
second to demand further information. The tenant in
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Agatha Christie
question proved to be a Mrs. Willett, a widow with one
daughter. She had recently arrived from South Africa
and wanted a house on Dartmoor for the winter.
"Damn it all, the woman must be mad," said Captain
Trevelyan. "Eh, Burnaby, don't you think so?"
Burnaby did think so, and said so as forcibly as his
friend had done.
"Anyway, you don't want to let," he said. "Let the fool
woman go somewhere else if she wants to freeze. Coming
from South Africa too!"
But at this point Captain Trevelyan's money complex
asserted itself. Not once in a hundred times would you
get a chance of letting your house in midwinter. He
demanded what rent the tenant was willing to pay.
An offer of twelve guineas a week clinched matters.
Captain Trevelyan went into Exhampton, rented a small
house on the outskirts at two guineas a week, and handed
over Sittaford House to Mrs. Willet, half the rent to be
paid in advance.
"A fool and her money are soon parted," he growled.
But Burnaby was thinking this afternoon as he scanned
Mrs. Willett covertly, that she did not look a fool. She
was a tall woman with a rather silly manner--but her
physiognomy was shrewd rather than foolish. She was
inclined to overdress, had a distinct Colonial accent, and
seemed perfectly content with the transaction. She was
clearly very well off and that, as Burnaby had reflected
more than once, really made the whole affair more odd.
She was not the kind of woman one would credit with a
passion for solitude.
Murder at Hazelraoor
As a neighbor she had proved almost embarrassingly
friendly. Invitations to Sittaford House were rained on
everybody. Captain Trevelyan was constantly urged to
"Treat the house as though we hadn't rented it." Trevelyan,
however, was not fond of women. Report went that
he had been jilted in his youth. He persistently refused
all invitations.
Two months had passed since the installation of the
Willetts and the first wonder at their arrival had passed
away.
Burnaby, naturally a silent man, continued to study
his hostess, oblivious to any need for small talk. Liked
to make herself out a fool, but wasn't really. So he summed
up the situation. His glance shifted to Violet Willett.
Pretty girl--scraggy, of course--they all were nowadays.
What was the good of a woman if she didn't look like a
woman? Papers said curves were coming back. About
time too.
He roused himself to the necessity of conversation. "We were afraid at first that you wouldn't be able to
come," said Mrs. Willett. "You said so, you remember.
We were so pleased when you said that after all
you
would."
"Friday," said Major Burnaby, with an air of being
explicit.
Mrs. Willett looked puzzled.
"Friday?"
"Every Friday go to Trevelyan's. Tuesday he comes
to me. Both of us done it for years."
"Oh! I see. Of course, living so near--"
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Agatha Christie
"Kind of habit."
Christie,Agatha - Murder At Hazelmore.doc Page 1
