Free The Sittaford Mystery by Agatha Christie

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    But Inspector Narracott fended off the impending scandal of last month with considerable skill. He glanced at his watch and gave a loud exclamation.
    “Goodness gracious,” he cried, “I shall miss my train. The station is not far away, is it?”
    “St David's is only three minute' walk, if it's St David's you want, or did you mean Queen Street?”
    “I must run,” said the Inspector, “tell Mrs Gardner I am sorry not to have seen her to say good-by. Very pleased to have had this little chat with you, nurse.”
    The nurse bridled ever so slightly.
    “Rather a good-looking man,” she said to herself as the front door shut after the Inspector. “Really quite good-looking. Such a nice sympathetic manner.”
    And with a slight sigh she went upstairs to her patient.

The Sittaford Mystery

Chapter 10
    THE PEARSON FAMILY
    Inspector Narracott's next move was to report to his superior, Superintendent Maxwell. The latter listened with interest to the Inspector's narrative.
    “It's going to be a big case,” he said thoughtfully. “There'll be headlines in the papers over this.”
    “I agree with you, sir.”
    “We've got to be careful. We don't want to make any mistake. But I think you're on the right track. You must get after this James Pearson as soon as possible - find out where he was yesterday afternoon. As you say, it's a common enough name, but there's the Christian name as well. Of course, his signing his own name openly like that shows there wasn't any premeditation about it. He'd hardly have been such a fool otherwise. It looks to me like a quarrel and a sudden blow. If it is the man, he must have heard of his uncle's death that night. And if so, why did he sneak off by the six train in the morning without a word to anyone? No, it looks bad. Always granting that the whole thing's not a coincidence. You must clear that up as quickly as possible.”
    “That's what I thought, sir. I'd better take the 1.45 to town. Some time or other I want to have a word with this Willett woman who rented the Captain's house. There's something fishy there. But I can't get to Sittaford at present, the roads are impassable with snow. And anyway, she can't have any direct connection with the crime. She and her daughter were actually - well - table turning at the time the crime was committed. And, by the way, rather a queer thing happened -”
    The Inspector narrated the story he had heard Major Burnaby.
    “That's a rum go,” ejaculated the Superintendent. “Think this old fellow was telling the truth? That's the sort of story that gets cooked up afterwards by those believers in spooks and things of that kind.”
    “I fancy it's true all right,” said Narracott with a grin. “I had a lot of difficulty getting it out of him. He's not a believer - just the opposite - old soldier, all damned nonsense attitude.”
    The Superintendent nodded his comprehension.
    “Well, it's odd, but it doesn't get us anywhere,” was his conclusion.
    “Then I'll take the 1.45 to London.”
    The other nodded.
    On arrival in town Narracott went straight to 21 Cromwell Street. Mr Pearson, he was told, was at the office. He would be back for certain about seven o'clock.
    Narracott nodded carelessly as though the information were of no value to him.
    “I'll call back if I can,” he said. “It's nothing of importance,” and departed quickly without leaving a name.
    He decided not to go to the Insurance Office, but to visit Wimbledon instead and have an interview with Mrs Martin Dering, formerly Miss Sylvia Pearson.
    There were no signs of shabbiness about The Nook. “New and shoddy,” was how Inspector Narracott described it to himself.
    Mrs Dering was at home. A rather pert-looking maid dressed in lilac color showed him into a rather overcrowded drawing-room. He gave her his official card to take to her mistress.
    Mrs Dering came to him almost immediately, his card in her hand.
    “I suppose you have come abo ut poor Uncle Joseph,” was her