Free A Murder is Announced by Agatha Christie

enthusiast and had played the part of the melancholy Jaques with great success in a performance of As You Like It for the Police Orphanage.
    A moment later he amended his view. Phillipa Haymes was too wooden for Rosalind, her fairness and her impassivity were intensely English, but English of the twentieth rather than of the sixteenth century. Well-bred, unemotional English, without a sparkle of mischief.
    “Good morning, Mrs. Haymes. I'm sorry if I startled you. I'm Detective-Inspector Craddock of the Middleshire Police. I wanted to have a word with you.”
    “About last night?”
    “Yes.”
    “Will it take long? Shall we -”
    She looked about her rather doubtfully.
    Craddock indicated a fallen tree trunk.
    “Rather informal,” he said pleasantly, “but I don't want to interrupt your work longer than necessary.”
    “Thank you.”
    “It's just for the record. You came in from work at what time last night?”
    “At about half-past five. I'd stayed about twenty minutes later in order to finish some watering in the greenhouse.”
    “You came in by which door?”
    “The side door. One cuts across by the ducks and the hen-house from the drive. It saves you going round, and besides it avoids dirtying up the front porch. I'm in rather a mucky state sometimes.”
    “You always come in that way?”
    “Yes.”
    “The door was unlocked?”
    “Yes. During the summer it's usually wide open. This time of the year it's shut but not locked. We all go out and in a good deal that way. I locked it when I came in.”
    “Do you always do that?”
    “I've been doing it for the last week. You see, it gets dark at six. Miss Blacklog goes out to shut up the ducks and the hens sometime in the evening, but she very often goes out through the kitchen door.”
    “And you are quite sure you did lock the side door this time?”
    “I really am quite sure about that.”
    “Quite so, Mrs. Haymes. And what did you do when you came in?”
    “Kicked off my muddy footwear and went upstairs and had a bath and changed. Then I came down and found that a kind of party was in progress. I hadn't known anything about this funny advertisement until then.”
    “Now please describe just what occurred when the hold-up happened.”
    “Well, the lights went out suddenly”
    “Where were you?”
    “By the mantelpiece. I was searching for my lighter which I thought I had put down there. The lights went out and everybody giggled. Then the door was flung open and this man shone a torch on us and nourished a revolver and told us to put our hands up.”
    “Which you proceeded to do?”
    “Well, I didn't, actually. I thought it was just fun, and I was tired and I didn't think I needed really to put them up.”
    “In fact you were bored by the whole thing?”
    “I was, rather. And then the revolver went off. The shots sounded deafening and I was really frightened. The torch went whirling round and dropped and went out, and then Mitzi started screaming. It was just like a pig being killed.”
    “Did you find the torch very dazzling?”
    “No, not particularly. It was quite a strong one, though. It lit up Miss Bunner for a moment and she looked quite like a turnip ghost - you know, all white and staring with her mouth open and her eyes starting out of her head.”
    “The man moved the torch?”
    “Oh, yes, he played it all round the room.”
    “As though he were looking for someone?”
    “Not particularly, I should say.”
    “And after that, Mrs. Haymes?”
    Phillipa Haymes frowned.
    “Oh, it was all a terrible muddle and confusion. Edmund Swettenham and Patrick Simmons switched on their lighters and they went out into the hall and we followed, and someone opened the dining-room door - the lights hadn't fused there - and Edmund Swettenham gave Mitzi a terrific slap on the cheek and brought her out of her screaming fit, and after that it wasn't so bad.”
    “You saw the body of the dead man?”
    “Yes.”
    “Was he known to you? Had you ever