Three Blind Mice by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online

thing?”
    “I shall go into all that, of course.”
    “In a way it’s lucky that the weather is so awful,” said Giles. “The murderer can’t very well turn up in this, can he?”
    “Perhaps he doesn’t need to, Mr. Davis.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Sergeant Trotter hesitated for a moment and then he said, “You’ve got to consider, sir, that he may be here already. ”
    Giles stared at him.
    “What do you mean?”
    “Mrs. Gregg was killed two days ago. All your visitors here have arrived since then, Mr. Davis. ”
    “Yes, but they’d booked beforehand—some time beforehand—except for Paravicini.”
    Sergeant Trotter sighed. His voice sounded tired. “These crimes were planned in advance.”
    “Crimes? But only one crime has happened yet. Why are you sure that there will be another?”
    “That it will happen—no. I hope to prevent that. That it will be attempted, yes.”
    “But then—if you’re right,” Giles spoke excitedly, “there’s only one person it could be. There’s only one person who’s the right age. Christopher Wren! ”
    Sergeant Trotter had joined Molly in the kitchen.
    “I’d be glad, Mrs. Davis, if you would come with me to the library. I want to make a general statement to everyone. Mr. Davis has kindly gone to prepare the way—”
    “All right—just let me finish these potatoes. Sometimes I wish Sir Walter Raleigh had never discovered the beastly things.”
    Sergeant Trotter preserved a disapproving silence. Molly said apologetically, “I can’t really believe it, you see—It’s so fantastic—”
    “It isn’t fantastic, Mrs. Davis—It’s just plain facts. ”
    “You have a description of the man?” Molly asked curiously.
    “Medium height, slight build, wore a dark overcoat and a light hat, spoke in a whisper, his face was hidden by a muffler. You see—that might be anybody.” He paused and added, “There are three dark overcoats and light hats hanging up in your hall here, Mrs. Davis.”
    “I don’t think any of these people came from London.”
    “Didn’t they, Mrs. Davis?” With a swift movement Sergeant Trotter moved to the dresser and picked up a newspaper.
    “The Evening Standard of February 19th. Two days ago. Someone brought that paper here, Mrs. Davis.”
    “But how extraordinary.” Molly stared, some faint chord of memory stirred. “Where can that paper have come from?”
    “You mustn’t take people always at their face value, Mrs. Davis. You don’t really know anything about these people you have admitted to your house.” He added, “I take it you and Mr. Davis are new to the guesthouse business?”
    “Yes, we are,” Molly admitted. She felt suddenly young, foolish, and childish.
    “You haven’t been married long, perhaps, either?”
    “Just a year.” She blushed slightly. “It was all rather sudden.”
    “Love at first sight,” said Sergeant Trotter sympathetically.
    Molly felt quite unable to snub him. “Yes,” she said, and added in a burst of confidence, “we’d only known each other a fortnight.”
    Her thoughts went back over those fourteen days of whirlwind courtship. There hadn’t been any doubts—they had both known. In a worrying, nerve-racked world, they had found the miracle of each other. A little smile came to her lips.
    She came back to the present to find Sergeant Trotter eying her indulgently.
    “Your husband doesn’t come from these parts, does he?”
    “No,” said Molly vaguely. “He comes from Lincolnshire.”
    She knew very little of Giles’s childhood and upbringing. His parents were dead, and he always avoided talking about his early days. He had had, she fancied, an unhappy childhood.
    “You’re both very young, if I may say so, to run a place of this kind,” said Sergeant Trotter.
    “Oh, I don’t know. I’m twenty-two and—”
    She broke off as the door opened and Giles came in.
    “Everything’s all set. I’ve given them a rough outline,” he said. “I hope that’s all right,