Free By The Pricking of My Thumbs by Agatha Christie Page B

just comes down for weekends?'
    'Nobody lives there now,' said Mrs Perry. 'Have another scone, dear.'
    'Thank you,' said Tuppence.
    'At least nobody's come down here in the last two years. I don't know even who it belongs to now.'
    'But when you first came here?'
    'There was a young lady used to come down here - an actress they said she was. At least that's what we heard. But we never saw her really. Just caught a glimpse sometimes. She used to come down late on a Saturday night after the show, I suppose. She used to go away on the Sunday evenings.'
    'Quite a mystery woman,' said Tuppence, encouragingly.
    'You know that's just the way I used to think of her. I used to make up stories about her in my head. Sometimes I'd think she was like Greta Garbo. You know, the way she went about always in dark glasses and pulled-down hats. Goodness now, I've got my peak hat on.'
    She removed the witch's headgear from her head and laughed.
    'It's for a play we're having at the parish rooms in Sutton Chancellor,' she said. 'You know - a sort of fairy story play for the children mostly. I'm playing the witch,' she added.
    'Oh,' said Tuppence, slightly taken aback, then added quickly, 'What fun.'
    'Yes, it is fun, isn't it?' said Mrs Perry. 'Just right for the witch, aren't I?' She laughed and tapped her chin. 'You know I've got the face for it. Hope it won't put ideas into people's heads. They'll think I've got the evil eye.'
    'I don't think they'd think that of you,' said Tuppence. 'I'm sure you'd be a beneficent witch.'
    'Well, I'm glad you think so,' said Mrs Perry. 'As I was saying, this actress - I can't remember her name now - Miss Marchment I think it was, but it might have been something else - you wouldn't believe the things I used to make up about her. Really, I suppose, I hardly ever saw or spoke to her. Sometimes I think she was just terribly shy and neurotic.'
    'Reporters'd come down after her and things like that, but she never would see them. At other times I used to think - well, you'll say I'm foolish - I used to think quite sinister things about her. You know, that she was afraid of being recognized. Perhaps she wasn't an actress at all. Perhaps the police were looking for her. Perhaps she was a criminal of some kind. It's exciting sometimes, making things up in your head. Especially when you don't - well - see many people.'
    'Did nobody ever come down here with her?'
    'Well, I'm not so sure about that. Of course these partition walls, you know, that they put in when they turned the house into two, well, they're pretty thin and sometimes you'd hear voices and things like that. I think she did bring down someone for weekends occasionally.' She nodded her head. 'A man of some kind. That may have been why they wanted somewhere quiet like this.'
    'A married man,' said Tuppence, entering into the spirit of make-believe.
    'Yes, it would be a married man, wouldn't it?' said Mrs Perry.
    'Perhaps it was her husband who came down with her. He'd taken this place in the country because he wanted to murder her and perhaps he buried her in the garden.'
    'My!' said Mrs Perry. 'You do have an imagination, don't you? I never thought of that one.'
    'I suppose someone must have known all about her,' said Tuppence. 'I mean house agents. People like that.'
    'Oh, I suppose so,' said Mrs Perry. 'But I rather liked not knowing, if you understand what I mean.'
    'Oh yes,' said Tuppence, 'I do understand.'
    'It's got an atmosphere, you know, this house. I mean there's a feeling in it, a feeling that anything might have happened.'
    'Didn't she have any people come in to clean for her or anything like that?'
    'Difficult to get anyone here. There's nobody near at hand.'
    The outside door opened. The big man who had been digging in the garden came in. He went to the scullery tap and turned it, obviously washing his hands. Then he came through into the sitting-room.
    'This is my husband,' said Mrs Perry. 'Amos. We've got a visitor, Amos. This is Mrs