Sleeping Murder by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online

Marple, 'I expect I shall.'

Sleeping Murder

Chapter 6 – Exercise in Detection
    'Where do you think the body was? About here?' asked Giles.
    He and Gwenda were standing in the front hall of Hillside. They had arrived back the night before, and Giles was now in full cry. He was as pleased as a small boy with his new toy.
    'Just about,’ said Gwenda. She retreated up the stairs and peered down critically. 'Yes—I think that's about it.'
    'Crouch down,’ said Giles. 'You're only about three years old, you know.'
    Gwenda crouched obligingly.
    'You couldn't actually see the man who said the words?'
    'I can't remember seeing him. He must have been just a bit further back—yes, there. I could only see his paws.'
    'Paws.' Giles frowned.
    'They were paws. Grey paws—not human.'
    'But look here, Gwenda. This isn't a kind of Murder in the Rue Morgue. A man doesn't have paws.'
    'Well, he had paws.'
    Giles looked doubtfully at her.
    'You must have imagined that bit afterwards.'
    Gwenda said slowly, 'Don't you think I may have imagined the whole thing? You know, Giles, I've been thinking. It seems to me far more probable that the whole thing was a dream. It might have been. It was the sort of dream a child might have, and be terribly frightened, and go on remembering about. Don't you think really that's the proper explanation? Because nobody in Dillmouth seems to have the faintest idea that there was ever a murder, or a sudden death, or a disappearance or anything odd about this house.'
    Giles looked like a different kind of little boy—a little boy who has had his nice new toy taken away from him.
    'I suppose it might have been a nightmare,’ he admitted grudgingly. Then his face cleared suddenly.
    'No,’ he said. 'I don't believe it. You could have dreamt about monkeys' paws and someone dead—but I'm damned if you could have dreamt that quotation from The Duchess of Malfi.'
    'I could have heard someone say it and then dreamt about it afterwards.'
    'I don't think any child could do that. Not unless you heard it in conditions of great stress—and if that was the case we're back again where we were—hold on, I've got it. It was the paws you dreamt. You saw the body and heard the words and you were scared stiff and then you had a nightmare about it, and there were waving monkeys' paws too— probably you were frightened of monkeys.'
    Gwenda looked slightly dubious—she said slowly: 'I suppose that might be it...'
    'I wish you could remember a bit more... Come down here in the hall. Shut your eyes. Think... Doesn't anything more come back to you?'
    'No, it doesn't, Giles... The more I think, the further it all goes away... I mean, I'm beginning to doubt now if I ever really saw anything at all. Perhaps the other night I just had a brainstorm in the theatre.'
    'No. There was something. Miss Marple thinks so, too. What about “Helen”? Surely you must remember something about Helen?'
    'I don't remember anything at all. It's just a name.'
    'It mightn't even be the right name.'
    'Yes, it was. It was Helen.'
    Gwenda looked obstinate and convinced.
    'Then if you're so sure it was Helen, you must know something about her,’ said Giles reasonably. 'Did you know her well? Was she living here? Or just staying here?'
    'I tell you I don't know.' Gwenda was beginning to look strained and nervy.
    Giles tried another tack.
    'Who else can you remember? Your father?'
    'No. I mean, I can't tell. There was always his photograph, you see. Aunt Alison used to say: “That's your Daddy.” I don't remember him here, in this house...'
    'And no servants—nurses—anything like that?'
    'No—no. The more I try to remember, the more it's all a blank. The things I know are all underneath—like walking to that door automatically. I didn't remember a door there. Perhaps if you wouldn't worry me so much, Giles, things would come back more. Anyway, trying to find out about it all is hopeless. It's so long ago.'
    'Of course it's not hopeless—even old