The Man in the Brown Suit by Agatha Christie Page B

use, was laid up with a bilious attack. These earnest, hardworking young men with weak stomachs are always liable to bilious attacks.
    Jarvis returned.
    â€œThe gentleman asked me to tell you, Sir Eustace, that he comes to you from Mr. Milray.”
    That altered the complexion of things. A few minutes later I was confronting my visitor in the library. He was a well-built young fellow with a deeply tanned face. A scar ran diagonally from the corner of his eye to the jaw, disfiguring what would otherwise have been a handsome though somewhat reckless countenance.
    â€œWell,” I said, “what’s the matter?”
    â€œMr. Milray sent me to you, Sir Eustace. I am to accompany you to South Africa as your secretary.”
    â€œMy dear fellow,” I said, “I’ve got a secretary already. I don’t want another.”
    â€œI think you do, Sir Eustace. Where is your secretary now?”
    â€œHe’s down with a bilious attack,” I explained.
    â€œYou are sure it’s only a bilious attack?”
    â€œOf course it is. He’s subject to them.”
    My visitor smiled.
    â€œIt may or may not be a bilious attack. Time will show. But I can tell you this, Sir Eustace, Mr. Milray would not be surprised if an attempt were made to get your secretary out of the way. Oh, you need have no fear for yourself”—I suppose a momentary alarm had flickered across my face—“you are not threatened. Your secretary out of the way, access to you would be easier. In any case, Mr. Milray wishes me to accompany you. The passage money will be our affair, of course, but you will take the necessary steps about the passport, as though you had decided that you needed the services of a second secretary.”
    He seemed a determined young man. We stared at each other and he stared me down.
    â€œVery well,” I said feebly.
    â€œYou will say nothing to anyone as to my accompanying you.”
    â€œVery well,” I said again.
    After all, perhaps it was better to have this fellow with me, but I had a premonition that I was getting into deep waters. Just when I thought I had attained peace!
    I stopped my visitor as he was turning to depart.
    â€œIt might be just as well if I knew my new secretary’s name,” I observed sarcastically.
    He considered for a minute.
    â€œHarry Rayburn seems quite a suitable name,” he observed.
    It was a curious way of putting it.
    â€œVery well,” I said for the third time.

Nine
    (Anne’s Narrative Resumed)
    I t is most undignified for a heroine to be seasick. In books the more it rolls and tosses, the better she likes it. When everybody else is ill, she alone staggers along the deck, braving the elements and positively rejoicing in the storm. I regret to say that at the first roll the Kilmorden gave, I turned pale and hastened below. A sympathetic stewardess received me. She suggested dry toast and ginger ale.
    I remained groaning in my cabin for three days. Forgotten was my quest. I had no longer any interest in solving mysteries. I was a totally different Anne to the one who had rushed back to the South Kensington square so jubilantly from the shipping office.
    I smiled now as I remember my abrupt entry into the drawing room. Mrs. Flemming was alone there. She turned her head as I entered.
    â€œIs that you, Anne, my dear? There is something I want to talk over with you.”
    â€œYes?” I said, curbing my impatience.
    â€œMiss Emery is leaving me.” Miss Emery was the governess. “As you have not yet succeeded in finding anything, I wondered if you would care—it would be so nice if you remained with us altogether?”
    I was touched. She didn’t want me, I knew. It was sheer Christian charity that prompted the offer. I felt remorseful for my secret criticism of her. Getting up, I ran impulsively across the room and flung my arms round her neck.
    â€œYou’re a dear,” I said. “A dear, a