скачать книгу бесплатно
One, Two, Buckle My Shoe
Agatha Christie
A dentist lies murdered at his Harley Street practice…The dentist was found with a blackened hole below his right temple. A pistol lay on the floor near his outflung right hand. Later, one of his patients was found dead from a lethal dose of local anaesthetic. A clear case of murder and suicide. But why would a dentist commit a crime in the middle of a busy day of appointments?A shoe buckle holds the key to the mystery. Now – in the words of the rhyme – can Poirot pick up the sticks and lay them straight?
One, Two, Buckle My Shoe
Copyright (#u4121a1b1-6283-5e15-84e1-70fde5ba1a4c)
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by Collins 1940
Agatha Christie® Poirot® One, Two, Buckle My Shoe™
Copyright © 1940 Agatha Christie Limited. All rights reserved.
www.agathachristie.com (http://www.agathachristie.com)
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2016
Title lettering by Ghost Design
Cover photograph © Shutterstock.com (http://www.Shutterstock.com)
Agatha Christie asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008164966
Ebook Edition © September 2016 ISBN: 9780007422630
Version: 2017-04-12
Dedication (#u4121a1b1-6283-5e15-84e1-70fde5ba1a4c)
To Dorothy North
who likes detective stories and cream,
in the hope it may make up to her
for the absence of the latter!
One, two, buckle my shoe,
Three, four, shut the door,
Five, six, picking up sticks,
Seven, eight, lay them straight,
Nine, ten, a good fat hen,
Eleven, twelve, men must delve,
Thirteen, fourteen, maids are courting,
Fifteen, sixteen, maids in the kitchen,
Seventeen, eighteen, maids in waiting,
Nineteen, twenty, my plate’s empty …
Table of Contents
Cover (#ua1037419-4e90-53d5-9e13-bbdda2707ba2)
Title Page (#uc1c938b7-419c-5044-aa1f-c1114982b86a)
Copyright (#ud61acd64-6839-567f-8975-abd855f43dbc)
Dedication (#u138c5dd3-9765-58e8-a0b7-4649812a1702)
Epigraph (#udcb4292b-a2ba-5f03-99f4-fe8297dc1911)
One, Two, Buckle My Shoe (#u45fc0049-52e9-5d1b-bf1e-7eddeae667c9)
Three, Four, Shut the Door (#ub83b3c39-e9aa-52d7-8a0b-2552c79e4b2d)
Five, Six, Picking Up Sticks (#litres_trial_promo)
Seven, Eight, Lay Them Straight (#litres_trial_promo)
Nine, Ten, a Good Fat Hen (#litres_trial_promo)
Eleven, Twelve, Men Must Delve (#litres_trial_promo)
Thirteen, Fourteen, Maids Are Courting (#litres_trial_promo)
Fifteen, Sixteen, Maids in the Kitchen (#litres_trial_promo)
Seventeen, Eighteen, Maids in Waiting (#litres_trial_promo)
Nineteen, Twenty, My Plate’s Empty (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by Agatha Christie (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
One, Two, Buckle My Shoe (#u4121a1b1-6283-5e15-84e1-70fde5ba1a4c)
Mr Morley was not in the best of tempers at breakfast. He complained of the bacon, wondered why the coffee had to have the appearance of liquid mud, and remarked that breakfast cereals were each one worse than the last.
Mr Morley was a small man with a decided jaw and a pugnacious chin. His sister, who kept house for him, was a large woman rather like a female grenadier. She eyed her brother thoughtfully and asked whether the bath water had been cold again.
Rather grudgingly, Mr Morley said it had not.
He glanced at the paper and remarked that the Government seemed to be passing from a state of incompetence to one of positive imbecility!
Miss Morley said in a deep bass voice that it was Disgraceful!
As a mere woman she had always found whatever Government happened to be in power distinctly useful. She urged her brother on to explain exactly why the Government’s present policy was inconclusive, idiotic, imbecile and frankly suicidal!
When Mr Morley had expressed himself fully on these points, he had a second cup of the despised coffee and unburdened himself of his true grievance.
‘These girls,’ he said, ‘are all the same! Unreliable, self-centred—not to be depended on in any way.’
Miss Morley said interrogatively:
‘Gladys?’
‘I’ve just had the message. Her aunt’s had a stroke and she’s had to go down to Somerset.’
Miss Morley said:
‘Very trying, dear, but after all hardly the girl’s fault.’
Mr Morley shook his head gloomily.
‘How do I know the aunt has had a stroke? How do I know the whole thing hasn’t been arranged between the girl and that very unsuitable young fellow she goes about with? That young man is a wrong ’un if I ever saw one! They’ve probably planned some outing together for today.’
‘Oh, no, dear, I don’t think Gladys would do a thing like that. You know, you’ve always found her very conscientious.’
‘Yes, yes.’
‘An intelligent girl and really keen on her work, you said.’
‘Yes, yes, Georgina, but that was before this undesirable young man came along. She’s been quite different lately—quite different—absent-minded—upset—nervy.’
The Grenadier produced a deep sigh. She said:
‘After all, Henry, girls do fall in love. It can’t be helped.’
Mr Morley snapped:
‘She oughtn’t to let it affect her efficiency as my secretary. And today, in particular, I’m extremely busy! Several very important patients. It is most trying!’
‘I’m sure it must be extremely vexing, Henry. How is the new boy shaping, by the way?’
Henry Morley said gloomily:
‘He’s the worst I’ve had yet! Can’t get a single name right and has the most uncouth manners. If he doesn’t improve I shall sack him and try again. I don’t know what’s the good of our education nowadays. It seems to turn out a collection of nit-wits who can’t understand a single thing you say to them, let alone remember it.’
He glanced at his watch.
‘I must be getting along. A full morning, and that Sainsbury Seale woman to fit in somewhere as she is in pain. I suggested that she should see Reilly, but she wouldn’t hear of it.’
‘Of course not,’ said Georgina loyally.
‘Reilly’s very able—very able indeed. First-class diplomas. Thoroughly up-to-date in his work.’
‘His hand shakes,’ said Miss Morley. ‘In my opinion he drinks.’
Her brother laughed, his good temper restored. He said:
‘I’ll be up for a sandwich at half-past one as usual.’
At the Savoy Hotel Mr Amberiotis was picking his teeth with a toothpick and grinning to himself.
Everything was going very nicely.
He had had his usual luck. Fancy those few kind words of his to that idiotic hen of a woman being so richly repaid. Oh! well—cast your bread upon the waters. He had always been a kind-hearted man. And generous! In the future he would be able to be even more generous. Benevolent visions floated before his eyes. Little Dimitri … And the good Constantopopolus struggling with his little restaurant … What pleasant surprises for them …
The toothpick probed unguardedly and Mr Amberiotis winced. Rosy visions of the future faded and gave way to apprehensions of the immediate future. He explored tenderly with his tongue. He took out his notebook. Twelve o’clock. 58, Queen Charlotte Street.
He tried to recapture his former exultant mood. But in vain. The horizon had shrunk to six bare words:
‘58, Queen Charlotte Street. Twelve o’clock.’
At the Glengowrie Court Hotel, South Kensington, breakfast was over. In the lounge, Miss Sainsbury Seale was sitting talking to Mrs Bolitho. They occupied adjacent tables in the dining-room and had made friends the day after Miss Sainsbury Seale’s arrival a week ago.
Miss Sainsbury Seale said:
‘You know, dear, it really has stopped aching! Not a twinge! I think perhaps I’ll ring up—’
Mrs Bolitho interrupted her.
‘Now don’t be foolish, my dear. You go to the dentist and get it over.’
