Free 4.50 From Paddington by Agatha Christie

wasn't a local, sir,” he said.
    “There's some reason to believe - from her underclothing - that she might have been a foreigner. Of course,” added Inspector Bacon hastily, “I'm not letting on about that yet awhile. We're keeping it up our sleeves until after the inquest.”
    The Chief Constable nodded.
    “The inquest will be purely formal, I suppose?”
    “Yes, sir. I've seen the Coroner.”
    “And it's fixed for - when?”
    “Tomorrow. I understand the other members of the Crackenthorpe family will be here for it. There's just a chance one of them might be able to identify her. They'll all be here.”
    He consulted a list he held in his hand.
    “Harold Crackenthorpe, he's something in the City - quite an important figure, I understand. Alfred - don't quite know what he does. Cedric - that's the one who lives abroad. Paints!” The inspector invested the word with its full quota of sinister significance. The Chief Constable smiled into his moustache.
    “No reason, is there, to believe the Crackenthorpe family are connected with the crime in any way?” he asked.
    “Not apart from the fact that the body was found on the premises,” said Inspector Bacon. “And of course it's just possible that this artist member of the family might be able to identify her. What beats me is this extraordinary rigmarole about the train.”
    “Ah, yes. You've been to see this old lady, this - er -” (he glanced at the memorandum lying on his desk) “Miss Marple?”
    “Yes, sir. And she's quite set and definite about the whole thing. Whether she's barmy or hot, I don't know, but she sticks to her story - about what her friend saw and all the rest of it. As far as all that goes, I dare say it's just make-believe - sort of thing old ladies do make up, like seeing flying saucers at the bottom of the garden, and Russian agents in the lending library. But it seems quite clear that she did engage this young woman, the lady help, and told her to look for a body - which the girl did.”
    “And found one,” observed the Chief Constable. “Well, it's all a very remarkable story. Marple, Miss Jane Marple - the name seems familiar somehow... Anyway, I'll get on to the Yard. I think you're right about its not being a local case - though we won't advertise the fact just yet. For the moment we'll tell the Press as little as possible.”

4.50 From Paddington
    II
    The inquest was a purely formal affair. No one came forward to identify the dead woman. Lucy was called to give evidence of finding the body and medical evidence was given as to the cause of death - strangulation. The proceedings were then adjourned.
    It was a cold blustery day when the Crackenthorpe family came out of the hall where the inquest had been held. There were five of them all told, Emma, Cedric, Harold, Alfred, and Bryan Eastley, the husband of the dead daughter Edith. There was also Mr. Wimborne, the senior partner of the firm of solicitors who dealt with the Crackenthorpes' legal affairs. He had come down specially from London at great inconvenience to attend the inquest. They all stood for a moment on the pavement, shivering. Quite a crowd had assembled; the piquant details of the “Body in the Sarcophagus” had been fully reported in both the London and the local Press.
    A murmur went round: “That's them...”
    Emma said sharply: “Let's get away.”
    The big hired Daimler drew up to the kerb. Emma got in and motioned to Lucy.
    Mr. Wimborne, Cedric and Harold followed.
    Bryan Eastley said: “I'll take Alfred with me in my little bus.”
    The chauffeur shut the door and the Daimler prepared to roll away.
    “Oh, stop!” cried Emma. “There are the boys!”
    The boys, in spite of aggrieved protests, had been left behind at Rutherford Hall, but they now appeared grinning from ear to ear.
    “We came on our bicycles,” said Stoddart-West.
    “The policeman was very kind and let us in at the back of the hall. I hope you don't mind, Miss Crackenthorpe,” he