Towards Zero by Agatha Christie Page A

There had to be some extra fillip of despair, of grief, of desperation or of passion. You could not commit suicide merely because you felt that life was a dreary round of uninteresting happenings.
    On the whole he was glad that his work would take him out of England. He was to sail for South America the end of September. The next few weeks would be busy getting together certain equipment and being put in touch with the somewhat complicated ramifications of the business.
    But there would be a week’s leisure before he left the country.He wondered what he should do with that week? Stay in London? Go away?
    An idea stirred nebulously in his brain.
    Saltcreek?
    â€œI’ve a damned good mind to go down there,” said MacWhirter to himself.
    It would be, he thought, grimly amusing.
    August 19th
    â€œAnd bang goes my holiday,” said Superintendent Battle disgustedly.
    Mrs. Battle was disappointed, but long years as the wife of a police officer had prepared her to take disappointments philosophically.
    â€œOh well,” she said, “it can’t be helped. And I suppose it is an interesting case?”
    â€œNot so that you’d notice it,” said Superintendent Battle. “It’s got the Foreign Office in a twitter—all those tall thin young men rushing about and saying Hush Hush here, there and everywhere. It’ll straighten out easy enough—and we shall save everybody’s face. But it’s not the kind of case I’d put in my Memoirs, supposing I was ever foolish enough to write any.”
    â€œWe could put our holiday off, I suppose—” began Mrs. Battle doubtfully, but her husband interrupted her decisively.
    â€œNot a bit of it. You and the girls go off to Britlington—the rooms have been booked since March—pity to waste them. I tell you what I’ll do—go down and spend a week with Jim when this blows over.”
    Jim was Superintendent Battle’s nephew, Inspector James Leach.
    â€œSaltington’s quite close to Easterhead Bay and Saltcreek,” he went on. “I can get a bit of sea air and a dip in the briny.”
    Mrs. Battle sniffed.
    â€œMore likely he’ll rope you in to help him over a case!”
    â€œThey don’t have any cases this time of the year—unless it’s a woman who pinches a few sixpennyworths from Woolworth’s. And anyway Jim’s all right—he doesn’t need his wits sharpening for him.”
    â€œOh well,” said Mrs. Battle. “I suppose it will work out all right, but it is disappointing.”
    â€œThese things are sent to try us,” Superintendent Battle assured her.

S NOW W HITE AND R ED R OSE
    I
    T homas Royde found Mary Aldin waiting for him on the platform at Saltington when he got out of the train.
    He had only a dim recollection of her, and now that he saw her again he was rather surprisedly aware of pleasure in her brisk capable way of dealing with things.
    She called him by his Christian name.
    â€œHow nice to see you, Thomas. After all these years.”
    â€œNice of you to put me up. Hope it isn’t a bother.”
    â€œNot at all. On the contrary. You’ll be particularly welcome. Is that your porter? Tell him to bring the things out this way. I’ve got the car right at the end.”
    The bags were stowed in the Ford. Mary took the wheel and Royde got in beside her. They drove off and Thomas noticed that she was a good driver, deft and careful in traffic and with a nice judgement of distance and spaces.
    Saltington was seven miles from Saltcreek. Once they were out of the small market town and on the open road, Mary Aldin reopened the subject of his visit.
    â€œReally, Thomas, your visit just now is going to be a godsend. Things are rather difficult—and a stranger—or partial stranger is just what is needed.”
    â€œWhat’s the trouble?”
    His manner, as always, was incurious—almost lazy. He asked the