Blindman’s Buff: An Agatha Christie Short Story. Агата Кристи

      

      Blindman’s Buff

      A Short Story

      by Agatha Christie

Copyright

      Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk

      Copyright © 2008 Agatha Christie Ltd

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      Ebook Edition © MAY 2013 ISBN: 9780007526550

      Version: 2017-04-13

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

Copyright

Blindman’s Buff

      Related Products

       About the Publisher

Blindman’s Buff

      ‘Blindman’s Buff’ was first published as ‘Blind Man’s Buff’ in The Sketch, 26 November 1924. Thornley Colton was created by Clinton H. Stagg (1890–1916).

      ‘Right,’ said Tommy, and replaced the receiver on its hook.

      Then he turned to Tuppence.

      ‘That was the Chief. Seems to have got the wind up about us. It appears that the parties we’re after have got wise to the fact that I’m not the genuine Mr Theodore Blunt. We’re to expect excitements at any minute. The Chief begs you as a favour to go home and stay at home, and not mix yourself up in it any more. Apparently the hornet’s nest we’ve stirred up is bigger than anyone imagined.’

      ‘All that about my going home is nonsense,’ said Tuppence decidedly. ‘Who is going to look after you if I go home? Besides, I like excitement. Business hasn’t been very brisk just lately.’

      ‘Well, one can’t have murders and robberies every day,’ said Tommy. ‘Be reasonable. Now, my idea is this. When business is slack, we ought to do a certain amount of home exercises every day.’

      ‘Lie on our backs and wave our feet in the air? That sort of thing?’

      ‘Don’t be so literal in your interpretation. When I say exercises, I mean exercises in the detective art. Reproductions of the great masters. For instance –’

      From the drawer beside him Tommy took out a formidable dark green eyeshade, covering both eyes. This he adjusted with some care. Then he drew a watch from his pocket.

      ‘I broke the glass this morning,’ he remarked. ‘That paved the way for its being the crystalless watch which my sensitive fingers touch so lightly.’

      ‘Be careful,’ said Tuppence. ‘You nearly had the short hand off then.’

      ‘Give me your hand,’ said Tommy. He held it, one finger feeling for the pulse. ‘Ah! the keyboard of silence. This woman has not got heart disease.’

      ‘I suppose,’ said Tuppence, ‘that you are Thornley Colton?’

      ‘Just so,’ said Tommy. ‘The blind Problemist. And you’re thingummybob, the black haired, apple-cheeked secretary –’

      ‘The bundle of baby clothes picked up on the banks of the river,’ finished Tuppence.

      ‘And Albert is the Fee, alias Shrimp.’

      ‘We must teach him to say, “Gee,”’ said Tuppence. ‘And his voice isn’t shrill. It’s dreadfully hoarse.’

      ‘Against the wall by the door,’ said Tommy, ‘you perceive the slim hollow cane which held in my sensitive hand tells me so much.’

      He rose and cannoned into a chair.

      ‘Damn!’ said Tommy. ‘I forgot that chair was there.’

      ‘It must be beastly to be blind,’ said Tuppence with feeling.

      ‘Rather,’ agreed Tommy heartily. ‘I’m sorrier for all those poor devils who lost their eyesight in the war than for anyone else. But they say that when you live in the dark you really do develop special senses. That’s what I want to try and see if one couldn’t do. It would be jolly handy to train oneself to be some good in the dark. Now, Tuppence, be a good Sydney Thames. How many steps to that cane?’

      Tuppence made a desperate guess.

      ‘Three straight, five left,’ she hazarded.

      Tommy paced it uncertainly, Tuppence interrupting with a cry of warning as she realised that the fourth step left would take him slap against the wall.

      ‘There’s a lot in this,’ said Tuppence. ‘You’ve no idea how difficult it is to judge how many steps are needed.’

      ‘It’s jolly interesting,’ said Tommy. ‘Call Albert in. I’m going to shake hands with you both, and see if I know which is which.’

      ‘All right,’ said Tuppence, ‘but Albert must wash his hands first. They’re sure to be sticky from those beastly acid drops he’s always eating.’

      Albert, introduced to the game, was full of interest.

      Tommy, the handshakes completed, smiled complacently.

      ‘The keyboard of silence cannot lie,’ he murmured. ‘The first was Albert, the second, you, Tuppence.’