The Thirteen Problems

The Thirteen Problems by Agatha Christie Page B

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Authors: Agatha Christie
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felt I couldn’t stand it. I interrupted the fisherman’s flood of language.
    ‘ “Tell me,” I said, “my eyesight is not very good. Are those bloodstains on that pavement over there?”
    ‘He looked at me indulgently and kindly.
    ‘ “No bloodstains in these days, lady. What I am telling you about is nearly five hundred years ago.”
    ‘ “Yes,” I said, “but now—on the pavement”—the words died away in my throat. I knew—I knew that he wouldn’t see what I was seeing. I got up and with shaking hands began to put my things together. As I did so the young man who had come in the car that morning came out of the inn door. He looked up and down the street perplexedly. On the balcony above his wife came out and collected the bathing things. He walked down towards the car but suddenly swerved and came across the road towards the fisherman.
    ‘ “Tell me, my man,” he said. “You don’t know whether the lady who came in that second car there has got back yet?”
    ‘ “Lady in a dress with flowers all over it? No, sir, I haven’t seen her. She went along the cliff towards the cave this morning.”
    ‘ “I know, I know. We all bathed there together, and then she left us to walk home and I have not seen her since. It can’t have taken her all this time. The cliffs round here are not dangerous, are they?”
    ‘ “It depends, sir, on the way you go. The best way is to take a man what knows the place with you.”
    ‘He very clearly meant himself and was beginning to enlarge on the theme, but the young man cut him short unceremoniously and ran back towards the inn calling up to his wife on the balcony.
    ‘ “I say, Margery, Carol hasn’t come back yet. Odd, isn’t it?”
    ‘I didn’t hear Margery’s reply, but her husband went on. “Well, we can’t wait any longer. We have got to push on to Penrithar. Are you ready? I will turn the car.”
    ‘He did as he had said, and presently the two of them drove off together. Meanwhile I had deliberately been nerving myself to prove how ridiculous my fancies were. When the car had gone I went over to the inn and examined the pavement closely. Of course there were no bloodstains there. No, all along it had been the result of my distorted imagination. Yet, somehow, it seemed to make the thing more frightening. It was while I was standing there that I heard the fisherman’s voice.
    ‘He was looking at me curiously. “You thought you saw bloodstains here, eh, lady?”
    ‘I nodded.
    ‘ “That is very curious, that is very curious. We have got a superstition here, lady. If anyone sees those bloodstains—”
    ‘He paused.
    ‘ “Well?” I said.
    ‘He went on in his soft voice, Cornish in intonation, but unconsciously smooth and well-bred in its pronunciation, and completely free from Cornish turns of speech.
    ‘ “They do say, lady, that if anyone sees those bloodstains that there will be a death within twenty-four hours.”
    ‘Creepy! It gave me a nasty feeling all down my spine.
    ‘He went on persuasively. “There is a very interesting tablet in the church, lady, about a death—”
    ‘ “No thanks,” I said decisively, and I turned sharply on my heel and walked up the street towards the cottage where I was lodging. Just as I got there I saw in the distance the woman called Carol coming along the cliff path. She was hurrying. Against the grey of the rocks she looked like some poisonous scarlet flower. Her hat was the colour of blood…
    ‘I shook myself. Really, I had blood on the brain.
    ‘Later I heard the sound of her car. I wondered whether she too was going to Penrithar; but she took the road to the left in the opposite direction. I watched the car crawl up the hill and disappear, and I breathed somehow more easily. Rathole seemed its quiet sleepy self once more.’
    ‘If that is all,’ said Raymond West as Joyce came to a stop, ‘I will give my verdict at once. Indigestion, spots before the eyes after meals.’
    ‘It isn’t

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