Spider's Web by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online

screamed. “I'd much rather die. I'll kill him.”
    “Pippa!” Clarissa admonished her.
    Pippa now seemed completely hysterical. “I'll kill myself,” she cried. “I'll cut my wrists and bleed to death.”
    Clarissa seized her by the shoulders. “Pippa, control yourself,” she ordered the child. “It's all right, I tell you. I'm here.”
    “But I don't want to go back to Mother, and I hate Oliver,” Pippa exclaimed desperately. “He's wicked, wicked, wicked.”
    “Yes, dear, I know. I know,” Clarissa murmured soothingly.
    “But you don't know.” Pippa now sounded even more desperate. “I didn't tell you everything before – when I came to live here. I just couldn't bear to mention it. But it wasn't only Miranda being so nasty and drunk or something, all the time. One night, when she was out somewhere or other, and Oliver was at home with me – I think he'd been drinking a lot – I don't know-but – ” She stopped, and for a moment seemed unable to continue. Then, forcing herself to go on, she looked down at the floor and muttered indistinctly, “He tried to do things to me.”
    Clarissa looked aghast. “Pippa, what do you mean?” she asked. “What are you trying to say?”
    Pippa looked desperately about her, as though seeking someone else who would say the words for her. “He – he tried to kiss me, and when I pushed him away, he grabbed me, and started to tear my dress off. Then he – ” She stopped suddenly, and burst into a fit of sobbing.
    “Oh, my poor darling,” Clarissa murmured, as she hugged the child to her. “Try not to think about it. It's all over, and nothing like that will ever happen to you again. I'll make sure that Oliver is punished for that. The disgusting beast. He won't get away with it.”
    Pippa's mood suddenly changed. Her tone now had a hopeful note, as a new thought apparently came to her. “Perhaps he'll be struck by lightning,” she wondered aloud.
    “Very likely,” Clarissa agreed, “very likely.” Her face wore a look of grim determination. “Now pull yourself together, Pippa,” she urged the child. “Everything's quite all right.” She took a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to Pippa. “Here, blow your nose.”
    Pippa did as she was told, and then used the handkerchief to wipe her tears off Clarissa's dress.
    Clarissa managed to summon up a laugh at this. “Now, you go upstairs and have your bath,” she ordered, turning Pippa around to face the hall door. “Mind you have a really good wash – your neck is absolutely filthy.”
    Pippa seemed to be returning to normal. “It always is,” she replied as she went to the door. But, as she was about to leave, she turned suddenly and ran to Clarissa. “You won't let him take me away, will you?” she pleaded.
    “Over my dead body,” Clarissa replied with determination. Then she corrected herself. “No – over his dead body. There! Does that satisfy you?”
    Pippa nodded, and Clarissa kissed her forehead. “Now, run along,” she ordered.
    Pippa gave her stepmother a final hug and left. Clarissa stood for a moment in thought, and then, noticing that the room had become rather dark, switched on the concealed lighting by a switch near the hall door. She went to the French windows and closed them, then sat on the sofa, staring ahead of her, apparently lost in thought.
    Only a minute or two had passed when, hearing the front door of the house slam, she looked expectantly towards the hall door through which, a moment later, her husband, Henry Hailsham-Brown, entered. Henry was a quite good-looking man of about forty with a rather expressionless face, wearing horn-rimmed spectacles and carrying a brief-case.
    “Hello, darling,” Henry greeted his wife, as he switched on the wall-bracket lights by a switch below the hall door, and put his brief-case on the armchair.
    “Hello, Henry,” Clarissa replied. “Hasn't it been an absolutely awful day?”
    “Has it?” asked Henry, as he came