Nemesis by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online Page A

perhaps, you having been well, his secretary for so many years, that he might have confided any troubles to you.”
    “He was not a man for confiding troubles,” said Esther. “If he had any, which I rather doubt. He was wedded to his business, one might say. He was father to his business and his business was the only kind of son or daughter that he had that mattered, I think. He enjoyed it all, investment, making money. Business coups...”
    “Call no man happy until he is dead,” murmured Miss Marple, repeating the words in the manner of one pronouncing them as a kind of slogan, which indeed they appeared to be in these days, or so she would have said.
    “So there was nothing especially worrying him, was there, before his death?”
    “No. Why should you think so?” Esther sounded surprised.
    “Well, I didn't actually think so,” said Miss Marple, “I just wondered because things do worry people more when they are - I won't say getting old, because he really wasn't old, but I mean things worry you more when you are laid up and can't do as much as you did and have to take things easy. Then worries just come into your mind and make themselves felt.”
    “Yes, I know what you mean,” said Esther. “But I don't think Mr Rafiel was like that. Anyway,” she added, “I ceased being his secretary some time ago. Two or three months after I met Edmund.”
    “Ah yes. Your husband. Mr Rafiel must have been very upset at losing you.”
    “Oh I don't think so,” said Esther lightly. “He was not one who would be upset over that sort of thing. He'd immediately get another secretary which he did. And then if she didn't suit him he'd get rid of her with a kindly golden handshake and get somebody else, till he found somebody who suited him. He was an intensely sensible man always.”
    “Yes. Yes, I can see that. Though he could lose his temper very easily.”
    “Oh, he enjoyed losing his temper,” said Esther. “It made a bit of drama for him, I think.”
    “Drama,” said Miss Marple thoughtfully. “Do you think - I have often wondered - do you think that Mr Rafiel had any particular interest in criminology, the study of it, I mean? He well, I don't know...”
    “You mean because of what happened in the Caribbean?” Esther's voice had gone suddenly hard.
    Miss Marple felt doubtful of going on, and yet she must somehow or other try and get a little helpful knowledge.
    “Well, no, not because of that, but afterwards, perhaps, he wondered about the psychology of these things. Or he got interested in the cases where justice had not been administered properly or - oh, well...”
    She sounded more scatty every minute.
    “Why should he take the least interest in anything of that kind? And don't let's talk about that horrible business in St Honoré.”
    “Oh no, I think you are quite right. I'm sure I'm very sorry. I was just thinking of some of the things that Mr Rafiel sometimes said. Queer turns of phrase, sometimes, and I just wondered if he had any theories, you know... about the causes of crime?”
    “His interests were always entirely financial,” said Esther shortly. “A really clever swindle of a criminal kind might have interested him, nothing else.”
    She was looking coldly still at Miss Marple.
    “I am sorry,” said Miss Marple apologetically. “I - I shouldn't have talked about distressing matters that are fortunately past. And I must be getting on my way,” she added. “I have got my train to catch and I shall only just have time. Oh dear, what did I do with my bag - oh yes, here it is.”
    She collected her bag, umbrella and a few other things, fussing away until the tension had slightly abated. As she went out of the door, she turned to Esther who was urging her to stay and have a cup of tea.
    “No thank you, my dear. I'm so short of time. I'm very pleased to have seen you again and I do offer my best congratulations and hopes for a very happy life. I don't suppose you will be taking up any