"The car will take you anywhere you wish."
An hour later, the car came back for the Grand
Duchess Olga. She got into it and so did the white-haired
man. He had removed his beard for coolness.
The car set down the Grand Duchess Olga at a house in
Streatham. She entered it and an elderly woman looked
up from a tea table.
"Ah, Maggie dear, so there you are."
In the Geneva-Paris express this girl was the Grand
Duchess Olga; in Mr. Parker Pyne's office she was
Madeleine de Sara, and in the house at Streatham she
was Maggie Sayers, fourth daughter of an honest, hard-working
family.
How are the mighty fallen!
Mr. Parker Pyne was lunching with his friend.
"Congratulations," said the latter, "your man carried
the thing through without a hitch. The Tormali gang
must be wild to think the plans of that. gun have gone to
THE CASE OF THE CITY CLERK
8]
the League. Did you tell your man what it was he wa
carrying?"
"No. I thought it better to--er--embroider."
"Very discreet of you."
"It wasn't exactly discretion. I wanted him to enjo
himself. I fancied he might find a gun a little tame.
wanted him to have some adventures."
"Tame?" said Mr. Bonnington, staring at him
"Why, that lot would murder him as soon as lOOk a
him."
"Yes," said Mr. Parker Pyne mildly. "But I didn'
want him to be murdered."
"Do you make a lot of money in your business
Parker?" asked Mr. Bonnington.
"Sometimes I lose it," said Mr. Parker Pyne. "Tha
is, if it is a deserving case."
Three angry gentlemen were abusing one another i
Paris.
"That confounded Hooper!" said one. "He let u
down. ' '
"The plans were not taken by anyone from the of
rice," said the second. "But they went Wednesday, I an
assured of that. And so I say you bungled it."
"I didn't," said the third sulkily; "there was n(
Englishman on the train except a little clerk. He'd neve
heard of Peterfield or of the gun. I know. I tested him
Peterfield and the gun meant nothing to him." H
laughed. "He had a Bolshevist complex of some kind."
Mr. Roberts was sitting in front of a gas fire. On hi,
knee was a letter from Mr. Parker Pyne. It enclosed
check for fifty pounds "from certain people who are
delighted with the way a certain commission was ex
ecuted."
82
Agatha Christie
On the arm of his chair was a library book. Mr.
Roberts opened it at random. "She crouched against the
door like a beautiful hunted creature at bay."
Well, he knew all about that.
He read another sentence: "He sniffed the air. The
faint, sickly odor of chloroform came to his nostrils."
That he knew about, too.
"He caught her in his arms and felt the responsive
quiver of her scarlet lips."
Mr. Roberts gave a sigh. It wasn't a dream. It had all
happened. The journey out had been dull enough, but
the journey home! He had enjoyed it. But he was glad
to be home again. He felt vaguely that life could not
be lived indefinitely at such a pace. Even the Grand
Duchess Olga--even that last kiss--partook already of
the unreal quality of a dream.
Mary and the children would be home tomorrow. Mr.
Roberts smiled happily.
She would say: "We've had such a nice holiday. I
hated thinking of you all alone here, poor old boy."
And he'd say: "That's all right, old girl. I had to go to
Geneva for the firm on business--delicate bit of negotiation-and
look what they've sent me." And he'd show
her the check for fifty pounds.
He thought of the Order of St. Stanislaus, tenth class
with laurels. He'd hidden it, but supposing Mary found
it! It would take a bit of explaining ....
Ah, that was it--he'd tell her he'd picked it up
abroad. A curio.
He opened his book again and read happily. No
longer was there a wistful expression on his face.
He too, was of that glorious company to whom
Things Happened.
The Case of
the Rich Woman
The name of Mrs. Abner Rymer was brought to Mr,
Parker Pyne. He knew the name and he raised his eyebrows.
Presently his client was shown into the room.
Mrs. Rymer was a tall woman, big-boned. Her figur
was ungainly and the velvet dress and the heavy fur coa
she wore did not disguise the fact. The knuckles of he
large hands were pronounced. Her face was big ant
broad and highly colored. Her black hair was fashion.
ably dressed, and there were many tips of curled ostric
in her hat.
She plumped herself down on a chair with a nod.
"Good morning," she said. Her voice had a rough
accent. "If you're any good at all you'll tell me how to
spend my money!"
"Most original," murmured Mr. Parker Pyne. "Fey
ask that in these days. So you really find it difficult
Mrs. Rymer?"
"Yes, I do," said the lady bluntly. "I've got three fu
coats, a lot of Paris dresses and such like. I've got acm
83
84
Agatha Christie
and a house in Park Lane. I've had a yacht but I don't
like the sea. I've got a lot of those high-class servants
that look'down their rrose at you. I've traveled a bit and
seen foreign parts. And I'm blessed if I can think of
anything more to buy or do." She looked hopefully at
Mr. Pyne.
"There are hospitals," he said.
"What? Give it away, you mean? No, that I won't
do! That money was worked for, let me tell you, worked
for hard. If you think I'm going to hand it out like so
much dirt--well, you're mistaken. I want to spend it;
spend it and get some good out of it. Now, if you've got
any ideas that are worth while in that line, you can
depend on a good fee."
"Your proposition interests me," said Mr. Pyne.
"You do not mention a country, house."
"I forgot it, but I've got one. Bores me to death."
"You must tell me more about yourself. Your prob-lem
is not easy to solve."
"I'll tell you and willing. I'm not ashamed of what
I've come from. Worked in a farmhouse, I did, when I
was a girl. Hard work it was, too. Then I took up with
Abner--he was a workman in the mills near by. He
courted me for eight years, and then we got married."
"And you were happy?" asked Mr. Pyne.
"I was. He was a good man to me, Abner. We had a
hard struggle of it, though; he was out of a job twice,
and children coming along. Four we had, three boys and
a girl. And none of them lived to grow up. I dare say it
would have been different if they had." Her face soft-ened;
looked suddenly younger.
"His chest was weak--Abner's was. They wouldn't
take him for the war. He did well at home. He was made
forema
n. He was a clever fellow, Abner. He worked out
a process. They treated him fair, I will say; gave him a
THE CASE OF THE RICH WOMAN
85
good sum for it. He used that money for another idea of
his. That brought in money hand over fist. He was a
master now, employing his own workmen. He bought
two concerns that were bankrupt and made them pay.
The rest was easy. Money came in hand over fist. It's
still coming in.
"Mind you, it was rare fun at first. Having a house
and a tiptop bathroom and servants of one's own. No
more cooking and scrubbing and washing to do. Just sit
back on your silk cushions in the drawing-room and
ring the bell for tea--like any countess might! Grand
fun it was, and we enjoyed it. And then we came up to
London. I went to swell dressmakers for my clothes. We
went to Paris and the Riviera. Rare fun it was."
"And then?" said Mr.' Parker Pyne.
"We got used to it, I suppose," said Mrs. Rymer.
"After a bit it didn't seem so much fun. Why, there
were days when we didn't even fancy our meals properly
--us, with any dish we fancied to choose from! As for
bathsmwell, in the end, one bath a day's enough for
anyone. And Abner's health began to worry him. Paid
good money to doctors, we did, but they couldn't do
anything. They tried this and they tried that. But it Was
no use. He died." She paused. "He was a young man,
only forty-three."
Mr. Pyne nodded sympathetically.
"That was five years ago. Money's still rolling in. It
seems wasteful not to be able to do anything with it. But
as I tell you, I can't think of anything else to buy that I
haven't got already."
"In other words," said Mr. Pyne, "your life is dull.
You are not enjoying it."
"I'm sick of it," said Mrs. Rymer gloomily. "I've no
friends. The new lot only want subscriptions, and they
laugh at me behind my back. The old lot won't have
86
Agatha Christie
anything to do with me. My rolling up in a car makes
them shy. Can you do anything, or suggest anything?"
"It is possible that I can," said Mr. Pyne slowly. "It
will be difficult, but I believe there is a chance of suc-cess.
I think it's possible I can give you back what you
have lost--your interest in life."
"How?" demanded Mrs. Rymer curtly.
"That," said Mr. Parker Pyne, "is my professional
secret. I never disclose my methods beforehand. The
question is, will you take a chance? I do not guarantee
success, but I do think there is a reasonable possibility
of it."
"And how much will it cost?"
"I shall have to adopt unusual methods, and there-fore
it will be expensive. My charges will be one thou-sand
pounds, payable in advance."
"You can open your mouth all right, can't you?"
said Mrs. Rymer appreciatively. "Well, I'll risk it. I'm
used to paying top price. Only when I pay for a thing, I
take good care that I get it."
"You shall get it," said Mr. Parker Pyne. "Never
fear."
"I'll send you the check this evening," said Mrs.
Rymer, rising. "I'm sure I don't know why I should
trust you. Fools and their money are soon parted, they
say. I dare say I'm a fool. You've got nerve, to advertise
in all the papers that you can make people happy!"
"Those advertisements cost me money," said Mr.
Pyne. "If I could not make my words good, that money
would be wasted. I know what causes unhappiness, and
consequently I have a clear idea of how to produce an
opposite condition."
Mrs. Rymer shook her head doubtfully and departed,
leaving a cloud of expensive mixed essences behind her.
THE CASE OF THE RICH WOMAN
87
The handsome Claude Luttrell strolled into the of-fice.
"Something in my line?"
Mr. Pyne shook his head. "Nothing so simple," he
said. "No, this is a difficult case. We must, I fear, take
a few risks. We must attempt the unusual."
"Mrs. Oliver?"
Mr. Pyne smiled at the mention of the worldfamous
novelist. "Mrs. Oliver," he said, "is really the most
conventional of all of us. I have in mind a bold and
audacious coup. By the way, you might ring up Doctor
Antrobus."
"Antrobus?"
"Yes. His services will be needed."
A week later Mrs. Rymer once more entered Mr.
Parker Pyne's office. He rose to receive her.
"This delay, I assure you, has been necessary," he
said. "Many things had to be arranged, and I had to
secure the services of an unusual man who had to come
half across Europe."
"Oh!" She said it suspiciously. It was constantly
present in her mind that she had paid out a check for a
thousand pounds and the check had been cashed.
Mr. Parker Pyne touched a buzzer. A young girl,
dark, OrientaMooking, but dressed in white nurse's kit,
an,s,w, ered it.
Is everything ready, Nurse de Sara?"
"Yes. Doctor Constantine is waiting."
"What
to do?" asked Mrs.
are
you
going
Rymer,
with a touch of uneasiness.
you some
magic,
lady,"
"introduce
to
Eastern
dear
.said Mr. Parker Pyne.
!i Mrs. Rymer followed the nurse up to the next floor.
Here she was ushered into a room that bore no relation
t°the rest of the house. Oriental embroideries covered
88
Agatha Christie
the walls. There were divans with soft cushions and
beautiful rugs on the floor. A man was bending over a
coffeepot. He straightened as they entered.
"Doctor Constantine," said the nurse.
The doctor was dressed in European clothes, but his
face was swarthy and his eyes were dark and oblique
with a peculiarly piercing power in their glance.
"So this is my patient?" he said in a low, vibrant
voice.
"I'm not a patient," said Mrs. Rymcr.
"Your body is not sick," said the doctor, "but your
soul is weary. We of the East know how to cure that
disease. Sit down and drink a cup of coffee."
Mrs. Rymer sat down and accepted a tiny cup of the
fragrant brew. As she sipped it the doctor talked.
"Here in the West, they treat only the body. A
mistake. The body is only the instrument. A tune is
played upon it. It may be a sad, weary tune. It may be a
gay tune full of delight. That last is what we shall give
you. You have money. You shall spend it and enjoy.
Life shall be worth living again. It is easy--easy--so
easy..."
A feeling of languor crept over Mrs. Rymer. The fig-ures
of the doctor and the nurse grew hazy. She felt
blissfully happy and very sleepy. The doctor's figure
grew bigger. The whole world was growing bigger.
was saying. "Sleep. Your eyelids are closing. Soon you
will sleep. You will sleep. You will sleep..."
Mrs. Rymer's eyelids closed. She floated with a
wonderful great big world ....
When her eyes opened it seemed to her that a long
time had passed. She remembered several things vaguely
--strange, impossible dreams; then a feeling of waking;
THE CASE OF THE RICH WOMAN 83
then further dreams. She remembered something abou
a car and the dark, beautiful girl in nurse's unifor
bending over her.
Anyway, she was properly awake now, and in he
own bed.
At least, was it her own bed7 It felt different. I
lacked the delicious softness of her own bed. It wa:
vaguely reminiscent of days almost forgotten. Sh
moved, and it creaked. Mrs. Rymer's bed in Park Lam
never creaked.
She looked round. Decidedly, this was not Parl
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