Free Cat Among the Pigeons by Agatha Christie Page A

children, and backing from a banker of unusual foresight. Chaddy's academic distinctions had been better than hers, but it was she who had had the vision to plan and make of the school a place of such distinction that it was known all over Europe. She had never been afraid to experiment, whereas Chaddy had been content to teach soundly but unexcitingly what she knew. Chaddy's supreme achievement had always been to be there, at hand, the faithful buffer, quick to render assistance when assistance was needed. As on the opening day of term with Lady Veronica. It was on her stolidity, Miss Bulstrode reflected, that an exciting edifice had been built.
    Well, from the material point of view, both women had done very well out of it. If they retired now, they would both have a good assured income for the rest of their lives. Miss Bulstrode wondered if Chaddy would want to retire when she herself did. Probably not. Probably, to her, the school was home. She would continue, faithful and reliable, to buttress up Miss Bulstrode's successor.
    Because Miss Bulstrode had made up her mind - a successor there must be. Firstly associated with herself in joint rule and then to rule alone. To know when to go - that was one of the great necessities of life. To go before one's powers began to fail, one's sure grip to loosen, before one felt the faint staleness, the unwillingness to envisage continuing effort.
    Miss Bulstrode finished marking the essays and noted that the Upjohn child had an original mind. Jennifer Sutcliffe had a complete lack of imagination, but showed an unusually sound grasp of facts. Mary Vyse, of course, was scholarship class - a wonderfully retentive memory. But what a dull girl! Dull - that word again. Miss Bulstrode dismissed it from her mind and rang for her secretary.
    She began to dictate letters.
    Dear Lady Valence. Jane has had some trouble with her ears. I enclose the doctors report...
    Dear Baron Von Eisenger. We can certainly arrange for Hedwig to go to the opera on the occasion of Hellstern's taking the role of Isolda...
    An hour passed swiftly: Miss Bulstrode seldom paused for a word. Ann Shapland's pencil raced over the pad.
    A very good secretary, Miss Bulstrode thought to herself. Better than Vera Lorrimer. Tiresome girl, Vera. Throwing up her post so suddenly. A nervous breakdown, she had said. Something to do with a man, Miss Bulstrode thought resignedly. It was usually a man.
    “That's the lot,” said Miss Bulstrode, as she dictated the last word, She heaved a sigh of relief.
    “So many dull things to be done,” she remarked. “Writing letters to parents is like feeding dogs. Pop some soothing platitude into every waiting mouth.”
    Ann laughed. Miss Bulstrode looked at her appraisingly.
    “What made you take up secretarial work?”
    “I don't quite know. I had no special bent for anything in particular, and it's the sort of thing almost everybody drifts into.”
    “You don't find it monotonous?”
    “I suppose I've been lucky. I've had a lot of different jobs. I was with Sir Mervyn Todhunter, the archaeologist, for a year, then I was with Sir Andrew Peters in Shell. I was secretary to Monica Lord, the actress, for a while - that really was hectic!” She smiled in remembrance.
    “There's a lot of that nowadays among you girls,” said Miss Bulstrode. “All this chopping and changing,” She sounded disapproving.
    “Actually, I can't do anything for very long. I've got an invalid mother. She's rather - well - difficult from time to time. And then I have to go back home and take charge.”
    “I see.”
    “But all the same, I'm afraid I should chop and change anyway. I haven't got the gift for continuity. I find chopping and changing far less dull.”
    “Dull...” murmured Miss Bulstrode, struck again by the fatal word.
    Ann looked at her in surprise.
    “Don't mind me,” said Miss Bulstrode. “It's just that sometimes one particular word seems to crop up all the time, How would you have