Free A Murder Is Announced by Agatha Christie Page A

and there’s a fellow standing in the doorway saying, ‘Stick your hands up,’ and everybody gasping and squealing, and just when I’m thinking—can I rush him? he starts firing a revolver and then crash down he goes and his torch goes out and we’re in the dark again, and Colonel Easterbrook starts shouting orders in his barrack-room voice. ‘Lights,’ he says, and will my lighter go on? No, it won’t as is the way of those cussed inventions.”
    â€œDid it seem to you that the intruder was definitely aiming at Miss Blacklock?”
    â€œAh, how could I tell? I should say he just loosed off his revolver for the fun of the thing—and then found, maybe, he’d gone too far.”
    â€œAnd shot himself?”
    â€œIt could be. When I saw the face of him, he looked like the kind of little pasty thief who might easily lose his nerve.”
    â€œAnd you’re sure you had never seen him before?”
    â€œNever.”
    â€œThank you, Mr. Simmons. I shall want to interview the otherpeople who were here last night. Which would be the best order in which to take them?”
    â€œWell, our Phillipa—Mrs. Haymes—works at Dayas Hall. The gates of it are nearly opposite this gate. After that, the Swettenhams are the nearest. Anyone will tell you.”

Seven
A MONG T HOSE P RESENT
    I
    D ayas Hall had certainly suffered during the war years. Couch grass grew enthusiastically over what had once been an asparagus bed, as evidenced by a few waving tufts of asparagus foliage. Grounsel, bindweed and other garden pests showed every sign of vigorous growth.
    A portion of the kitchen garden bore evidence of having been reduced to discipline and here Craddock found a sour-looking old man leaning pensively on a spade.
    â€œIt’s Mrs. ’Aymes you want? I couldn’t say where you’d find ’er. ’As ’er own ideas, she ’as, about what she’ll do. Not one to take advice. I could show her—show ’er willing—but what’s the good, won’t listen these young ladies won’t! Think they know everything because they’ve put on breeches and gone for a ride on a tractor.But it’s gardening that’s needed here. And that isn’t learned in a day. Gardening, that’s what this place needs.”
    â€œIt looks as though it does,” said Craddock.
    The old man chose to take this remark as an aspersion.
    â€œNow look here, mister, what do you suppose I can do with a place this size? Three men and a boy, that’s what it used to ’ave. And that’s what it wants. There’s not many men could put in the work on it that I do. ’Ere sometimes I am till eight o’clock at night. Eight o’clock.”
    â€œWhat do you work by? An oil lamp?”
    â€œNaterally I don’t mean this time o’ year. Naterally. Summer evenings I’m talking about.”
    â€œOh,” said Craddock. “I’d better go and look for Mrs. Haymes.”
    The rustic displayed some interest.
    â€œWhat are you wanting ’er for? Police, aren’t you? She been in trouble, or is it the do there was up to Little Paddocks? Masked men bursting in and holding up a roomful of people with a revolver. An’ that sort of thing wouldn’t ’ave ’appened afore the war. Deserters, that’s what it is. Desperate men roaming the countryside. Why don’t the military round ’em up?”
    â€œI’ve no idea,” said Craddock. “I suppose this hold-up caused a lot of talk?”
    â€œThat it did. What’s us coming to? That’s what Ned Barker said. Comes of going to the pictures so much, he said. But Tom Riley he says it comes of letting these furriners run about loose. And depend on it, he says, that girl as cooks up there for Miss Blacklock and ’as such a nasty temper— she’s in it, he said. She’s a communist or worse, he says, and we