The Seven Dials Mystery

by Agatha Christie

  “What’s the matter?” asked Bundle.

  Jimmy explained the circumstances of the pistol throwing.

  “I’m wondering,” he ended, “what was in old Battle’s mind when he got Coote to throw the pistol. Something, I’ll swear. Anyhow, it landed up about ten yards farther than it should have done. You know, Bundle, Battle’s a deep one.”

  “He’s an extraordinary man,” said Bundle. “I want to tell you about last night.”

  She retailed her conversation with the Superintendent. Jimmy listened attentively.

  “So the Countess is No 1,” he said thoughtfully. “It all hangs together very well. No 2—Bauer—comes over from Chimneys. He climbs up into O’Rourke’s room, knowing that O’Rourke has had a sleeping draught administered to him—by the Countess somehow or other. The arrangement is that he is to throw the papers to the Countess, who will be waiting below. Then she’ll nip back through the library and up to her room. If Bauer’s caught leaving the grounds, they’ll find nothing on him. Yes, it was a good plan—but it went wrong. No sooner is the Countess in the library than she hears me coming and has to jump behind the screen. Jolly awkward for her, because she can’t warn her accomplice. No 2 pinches the papers, looks out of the window, sees, as he thinks, the Countess waiting, pitches the papers down to her and proceeds to climb down the ivy, where he finds a nasty surprise in the shape of me waiting for him. Pretty nervy work for the Countess waiting behind her screen. All things considered, she told a pretty good story. Yes, it all hangs together very well.”

  “Too well,” said Bundle decidedly.

  “Eh?” said Jimmy surprised.

  “What about No 7—No 7, who never appears, but lives in the background. The Countess and Bauer? No, it’s not so simple as that. Bauer was here last night, yes. But he was only here in case things went wrong—as they have done. His part is the part of scapegoat; to draw all attention from No 7—the boss.”

  “I say, Bundle,” said Jimmy anxiously, “you haven’t been reading too much sensational literature, have you?”

  Bundle threw him a glance of dignified reproach.

  “Well,” said Jimmy, “I’m not yet like the Red Queen. I can’t believe six impossible things before breakfast.”

  “It’s after breakfast,” said Bundle.

  “Or even after breakfast. We’ve got a perfectly good hypothesis which fits the facts—and you won’t have it at any price, simply because, like the old riddle, you want to make things more difficult.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Bundle, “but I cling passionately to a mysterious No 7 being a member of the house party.”

  “What does Bill think?”

  “Bill,” said Bundle coldly, “is impossible.”

  “Oh!” said Jimmy. “I suppose you’ve told him about the Countess? He ought to be warned. Heaven knows what he’ll go blabbing about otherwise.”

  “He won’t hear a word against her,” said Bundle. “He’s—oh, simply idiotic. I wish you’d drive it home to him about that mole.”

  “You forget I wasn’t in the cupboard,” said Jimmy. “And anyway I’d rather not argue with Bill about his lady friend’s mole. But surely he can’t be such an ass as not to see that everything fits in?”

  “He’s every kind of ass,” said Bundle bitterly. “You made the greatest mistake, Jimmy, in ever telling him at all.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Jimmy. “I didn’t see it at the time—but I do now. I was a fool, but dash it all, old Bill—”

  “You know what foreign adventuresses are,” said Bundle. “How they get hold of one.”

  “As a matter of fact, I don’t,” said Jimmy. “One has never tried to get hold of me.” And he sighed.

  For a moment or two there was silence. Jimmy was turning things over in his mind. The more he thought about them the more unsatisfactory they seemed.

  “You say that Battle wants the Countess left alone,” he said at last.

  “Yes.”

  “The idea being that through her he will get at someone else?”

  Bundle nodded.

  Jimmy frowned deeply as he tried to see where this led. Clearly Battle had some very definite idea in his mind.

  “Sir Stanley Digby went up to town early this morning, didn’t he,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “O’Rourke with him?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “You don’t think—no, that’s impossible.”

  “What?”

  “That O’Rourke can be mixed up in this in any way.”

  “It’s possible,” said Bundle thoughtfully. “He’s got what one calls a very vivid personality. No, it wouldn’t surprise me if—oh, to tell the truth, nothing would surprise me! In fact, there’s only one person I’m really sure isn’t No 7.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Superintendent Battle.”

  “Oh! I thought you were going to say George Lomax.”

  “Ssh, here he comes.”

  George was, indeed, bearing down upon them in an unmistakable manner. Jimmy made an excuse and slipped away. George sat down by Bundle.

  “My dear Eileen, must you really leave us?”

  “Well, Father seems to have got the wind up rather badly. I think I’d better go home and hold his hand.”

  “This little hand will indeed be comforting,” said George, taking it and pressing it playfully. “My dear Eileen, I understand your reasons and I honour you for them. In these days of changed and unsettled conditions—”

  “He’s off,” thought Bundle desperately.

  “—when family life is at a premium—all the old standards falling!—It becomes our class to set an example to show that we, at least, are unaffected by modern conditions. They call us the Die Hards—I am proud of the term—I repeat I am proud of the term! There are things that should die hard—dignity, beauty, modesty, the sanctity of family life, filial respect—who dies if these shall live? As I was saying, my dear Eileen, I envy you the privileges of your youth. Youth! What a wonderful thing! What a wonderful word! And we do not appreciate it until we grow to—er—maturer years. I confess, my dear child, that I have in the past been disappointed by your levity. I see now that it was but the careless and charming levity of a child. I perceive now the serious and earnest beauty of your mind. You will allow me, I hope, to help you with your reading?”

  “Oh, thank you,” said Bundle faintly.

  “And you must never be afraid of me again. I was shocked when Lady Caterham told me that you stood in awe of me. I can assure you that I am a very humdrum sort of person.”

  The spectacle of George being modest struck Bundle spellbound. George continued:

  “Never be shy with me, dear child. And do not be afraid of boring me. It will be a great delight to me to—if I may say so—form your budding mind. I will be your political mentor. We have never needed young women of talent and charm in the Party more than we need them today. You may well be destined to follow in the footsteps of your aunt, Lady Caterham.”

  This awful prospect knocked Bundle out completely. She could only stare helplessly at George. This did not discourage him—on the contrary. His main objection to women was that they talked too much. It was seldom that he found what he considered a really good listener. He smiled benignly at Bundle.

  “The butterfly emerging from the chrysalis. A wonderful picture. I have a very interesting work on political economy. I will look it out now, and you can take it to Chimneys with you. When you have finished it, I will discuss it with you. Do not hesitate to write to me if any point puzzles you. I have many public duties but by unsparing work I can always make time for the affairs of my friends. I will look for the book.”

  He strode away. Bundle gazed after him with a dazed expression. She was roused by the unexpected advent of Bill.

  “Look here,” said Bill. “What the hell was Codders holding your hand for?”

  “It wasn’t my hand,” said Bundle wildly. “It was my budding mind.”
/>   “Don’t be an ass, Bundle.”

  “Sorry, Bill, but I’m a little worried. Do you remember saying that Jimmy ran a grave risk down here?”

  “So he does,” said Bill. “It’s frightfully hard to escape from Codders once he’s got interested in you. Jimmy will be caught in the toils before he knows where he is.”

  “It’s not Jimmy who’s caught—it’s me,” said Bundle wildly. “I shall have to meet endless Mrs. Macattas, and read political economy and discuss it with George, and heaven knows where it will end!”

  Bill whistled.

  “Poor old Bundle. Been laying it on a bit thick, haven’t you?”

  “I must have done. Bill, I feel horribly entangled.”

  “Never mind,” said Bill consolingly. “George doesn’t really believe in women standing for Parliament, so you won’t have to stand up on platforms and talk a lot of junk, or kiss dirty babies in Bermondsey. Come and have a cocktail. It’s nearly lunch time.”

  Bundle got up and walked by his side obediently.

  “And I do so hate politics,” she murmured piteously.

  “Of course you do. So do all sensible people. It’s only people like Codders and Pongo who take them seriously and revel in them. But all the same,” said Bill, reverting suddenly to a former point, “you oughtn’t to let Codders hold your hand.”

  “Why on earth not?” said Bundle. “He’s known me all my life.”

  “Well, I don’t like it.”

  “Virtuous William—Oh, I say, look at Superintendent Battle.”

  They were just passing in through a side door. A cupboard-like room opened out of the little hallway. In it were kept golf clubs, tennis racquets, bowls and other features of country house life. Superintendent Battle was conducting a minute examination of various golf clubs. He looked up a little sheepishly at Bundle’s exclamation.

  “Going to take up golf, Superintendent Battle?”

  “I might do worse, Lady Eileen. They say it’s never too late to start. And I’ve got one good quality that will tell at any game.”

  “What’s that?” asked Bill.

  “I don’t know when I’m beaten. If everything goes wrong, I turn to and start again!”

  And with a determined look on his face, Superintendent Battle came out and joined them, shutting the door behind him.

  Twenty-five

  JIMMY LAYS HIS PLANS

  Jimmy Thesiger was feeling depressed. Avoiding George, whom he suspected of being ready to tackle him on serious subjects, he stole quietly away after lunch. Proficient as he was in details of the Santa Fé boundary dispute, he had no wish to stand an examination on it this minute.

  Presently what he hoped would happen came to pass. Loraine Wade, also unaccompanied, strolled down one of the shady garden paths. In a moment Jimmy was by her side. They walked for some minutes in silence and then Jimmy said tentatively:

  “Loraine?”

  “Yes?”

  “Look here, I’m a bad chap at putting things—but what about it? What’s wrong with getting a special licence and being married and living together happily ever afterwards?”

  Loraine displayed no embarrassment at this surprising proposal. Instead she threw back her head and laughed frankly.

  “Don’t laugh at a chap,” said Jimmy reproachfully.

  “I can’t help it. You were so funny.”

  “Loraine—you are a little devil.”

  “I’m not. I’m what’s called a thoroughly nice girl.”

  “Only to those who don’t know you—who are taken in by your delusive appearance of meekness and decorum.”

  “I like your long words.”

  “All out of crossword puzzles.”

  “So educative.”

  “Loraine, dear, don’t beat about the bush. Will you or won’t you?”

  Loraine’s face sobered. It took on its characteristic appearance of determination. Her small mouth hardened and her little chin shot out aggressively.

  “No, Jimmy. Not while things are as they are at present—all unfinished.”

  “I know we haven’t done what we set out to do,” agreed Jimmy. “But all the same—well, it’s the end of a chapter. The papers are safe at the Air Ministry. Virtue triumphant. And—for the moment—nothing doing.”

  “So—let’s get married?” said Loraine with a slight smile.

  “You’ve said it. Precisely the idea.”

  But again Loraine shook her head.

  “No, Jimmy. Until this thing’s wound up—until we’re safe—”

  “You think we’re in danger?”

  “Don’t you?”

  Jimmy’s cherubic pink face clouded over.

  “You’re right,” he said at last. “If that extraordinary rigmarole of Bundle’s is true—and I suppose, incredible as it sounds, it must be true—then we’re not safe till we’ve settled with No 7!”

  “And the others?”

  “No—the others don’t count. It’s No 7 with his own ways of working that frightens me. Because I don’t know who he is or where to look for him.”

  Loraine shivered.

  “I’ve been frightened,” she said in a low voice. “Ever since Gerry’s death. . . .”

  “You needn’t be frightened. There’s nothing for you to be frightened about. You leave everything to me. I tell you, Loraine—I’ll get No 7 yet. Once we get him—well, I don’t think there’ll be much trouble with the rest of the gang, whoever they are.”

  “If you get him—and suppose he gets you?”

  “Impossible,” said Jimmy cheerfully. “I’m much too clever. Always have a good opinion of yourself—that’s my motto.”

  “When I think of the things that might have happened last night—” Loraine shivered.

  “Well, they didn’t,” said Jimmy. “We’re both here, safe and sound—though I must admit my arm is confoundedly painful.”

  “Poor boy.”

  “Oh, one must expect to suffer in a good cause. And what with my wounds and my cheerful conversation, I’ve made a complete conquest of Lady Coote.”

  “Oh! Do you think that important?”

  “I’ve an idea it may come in useful.”

  “You’ve got some plan in your mind, Jimmy. What is it?”

  “The young hero never tells his plans,” said Jimmy firmly. “They mature in the dark.”

  “You are an idiot, Jimmy.”

  “I know. I know. That’s what everyone says. But I can assure you, Loraine, there’s a lot of brain work going on underneath. Now what about your plans? Got any?”

  “Bundle has suggested that I should go to Chimneys with her for a bit.”

  “Excellent,” said Jimmy approvingly. “Nothing could be better. I’d like an eye kept on Bundle anyway. You never know what mad thing she won’t get up to next. She’s so frightfully unexpected. And the worst of it is, she’s so astonishingly successful. I tell you, keeping Bundle out of mischief is a whole-time job.”

  “Bill ought to look after her,” suggested Loraine.

  “Bill’s pretty busy elsewhere.”

  “Don’t you believe it,” said Loraine.

  “What? Not the Countess? But the lad’s potty about her.” Loraine continued to shake her head.

  “There’s something there I don’t quite understand. But it’s not the Countess with Bill—it’s Bundle. Why, this morning, Bill was talking to me when Mr. Lomax came out and sat down by Bundle. He took her hand or something, and Bill was off like—like a rocket.”

  “What a curious taste some people have,” observed Mr. Thesiger. “Fancy anyone who was talking to you wanting to do anything else. But you surprise me very much, Loraine. I thought our simple Bill was enmeshed in the toils of the beautiful foreign adventuress. Bundle thinks so, I know.”

  “Bundle may,” said Loraine. “But I tell you, Jimmy, it isn’t so.”

  “Then what’s the big idea?”

  “Don’t you think it possible that Bill is doing a bit of sleuthing on his own?”


  “Bill? He hasn’t got the brains.”

  “I’m not so sure. When a simple, muscular person like Bill does set out to be subtle, no one ever gives him credit for it.”

  “And in consequence he can put in some good work. Yes, there’s something in that. But all the same I’d never have thought it of Bill. He’s doing the Countess’s little woolly lamb to perfection. I think you’re wrong, you know, Loraine. The Countess is an extraordinarily beautiful woman—not my type of course,” put in Mr. Thesiger hastily—“and old Bill has always had a heart like an hotel.”

  Loraine shook her head, unconvinced.

  “Well,” said Jimmy, “have it your own way. We seem to have more or less settled things. You go back with Bundle to Chimneys, and for heaven’s sake keep her from poking about in that Seven Dials place again. Heaven knows what will happen if she does.”

  Loraine nodded.

  “And now,” said Jimmy, “I think a few words with Lady Coote would be advisable.”

  Lady Coote was sitting on a garden seat doing woolwork. The subject was a disconsolate and somewhat misshapen young woman weeping over an urn.

  Lady Coote made room for Jimmy by her side, and he promptly, being a tactful young man, admired her work.

  “Do you like it?” said Lady Coote, pleased. “It was begun by my Aunt Selina the week before she died. Cancer of the liver, poor thing.”

  “How beastly,” said Jimmy.

  “And how is the arm?”

  “Oh, it’s feeling quite all right. Bit of a nuisance and all that, you know.”

  “You’ll have to be careful,” said Lady Coote in a warning voice. “I’ve known blood poisoning set in—and in that case you might lose your arm altogether.”

  “Oh! I say, I hope not.”

  “I’m only warning you,” said Lady Coote.

  “Where are you hanging out now?” inquired Mr. Thesiger. “Town—or where?”

  Considering that he knew the answer to his query perfectly well, he put the question with a praiseworthy amount of ingenuousness.

  Lady Coote sighed heavily.

  “Sir Oswald has taken the Duke of Alton’s place. Letherbury. You know it, perhaps?”