Dumb Witness by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online

very neatly replied, Hastings. For once, I admit, you have made the score off me.”
    We found Littlegreen House easily enough, but a shock awaited us - a houseagent's board.
    As we were staring at it, a dog's bark attracted my attention.
    The bushes were thin at that point and the dog could be easily seen. He was a wire-haired terrier, somewhat shaggy as to coat.
    His feet were planted wide apart, slightly to one side, and he barked with an obvious enjoyment of his own performance that showed him to be actuated by the most amiable motives.
    “Good watchdog, aren't I?” he seemed to be saying. “Don't mind me! This is just my fun! My duty too, of course. Just have to let 'em know there's a dog about the place! Deadly dull morning. Quite a blessing to have something to do. Coming into our place? Hope so. It's durned dull. I could do with a little conversation.”
    “Hallo, old man,” I said, and shoved forward a fist.
    Craning his neck through the railings, he sniffed suspiciously, then gently wagged his tail and gave a few short, staccato barks.
    “Not been properly introduced, of course, have to keep this up! But I see you know the proper advances to make.”
    “Good old boy,” I said.
    “Wuff,” said the terrier amiably.
    “Well, Poirot?” I said, desisting from this conversation and turning to my friend. There was an odd expression on his face - one that I could not quite fathom. A kind of deliberately suppressed excitement seems to describe it best.
    “The Incident of the Dog's Ball,” he murmured. “Well, at least, we have here a dog.”
    “Wuff,” observed our new friend. Then he sat down, yawned widely and looked at us hopefully.
    “What next?” I asked.
    The dog seemed to be asking the same question.
    “Parbleu, to Messrs. - what is it - Messrs. Gabler and Stretcher.”
    “That does seem indicated,” I agreed.
    We turned and retraced our steps, our canine acquaintance sending a few disgusted barks after us.
    The premises of Messrs. Gabler and Stretcher were situated in the Market Square. We entered a dim outer office where we were received by a young woman with adenoids and a lack-lustre eye.
    “Good-morning,” said Poirot politely.
    The young woman was at the moment speaking into a telephone, but she indicated a chair and Poirot sat down. I found another and brought it forward.
    “I couldn't say, I'm sure,” said the young woman into the telephone vacantly. “No, I don't know what the rates would be... Pardon? Oh, main water, I think, but, of course, I couldn't be certain... I'm very sorry, I'm sure... No, he's out... No, I couldn't say... Yes, of course I'll ask him... Yes... 8135? I'm afraid I haven't quite got it. Oh... 8935... 39... Oh, 5135... Yes, I'll ask him to ring you... after six... Oh, pardon, before six... Thank you so much.”
    She replaced the receiver, scribbled 5319 on the blotting-pad and turned a mildly inquiring but uninterested gaze on Poirot.
    Poirot began briskly.
    “I observe that there is a house to be sold just on the outskirts of this town. Littlegreen House, I think is the name.”
    “Pardon?”
    “A house to be let or sold,” said Poirot loudly and distinctly. “Littlegreen House.”
    “Oh, Littlegreen House,” said the young woman vaguely. “Littlegreen House, did you say?”
    “That is what I said.”
    “Littlegreen House,” said the young woman, making a tremendous mental effort. “Oh, well, I expect Mr Gabler would know about that.”
    “Can I see Mr Gabler?”
    “He's out,” said the young woman with a kind of faint, anaemic satisfaction as of one who says, “A point to me.”
    “Do you know when he will be in?”
    “I couldn't say, I'm sure,” said the young woman.
    “You comprehend, I am looking for a house in this neighborhood,” said Poirot.
    “Oh, yes,” said the young woman, uninterested.
    “And Littlegreen House seems to me just what I am looking for. Can you give me particulars?”
    “Particulars?” The young woman seemed