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Agatha Christie
The Sittaford
Mystery
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by Collins 1931
Copyright © 1931 Agatha Christie Ltd.
All rights reserved.
The moral right of the author is asserted
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
All rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks
HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technogolical constraints in operation at the time of publication
Source ISBN: 9780007136841
Ebook Edition © 2010 ISBN: 9780007422807
Version: 2018-09-05
Contents
Copyright
1. Sittaford House
2. The Message
3. Five and Twenty Past Five
4. Inspector Narracott
5. Evans
6. At the Three Crowns
7. The Will
8. Mr Charles Enderby
9. The Laurels
10. The Pearson Family
11. Emily Sets to Work
12. The Arrest
13. Sittaford
14. The Willetts
15. Visit to Major Burnaby
16. Mr Rycroft
17. Miss Percehouse
18. Emily Visits Sittaford House
19. Theories
20. Visit to Aunt Jennifer
21. Conversations
22. Nocturnal Adventures of Charles
23. At Hazelmoor
24. Inspector Narracott Discusses the Case
25. At Deller’s Café
26. Robert Gardner
27. Narracott Acts
28. Boots
29. The Second Séance
30. Emily Explains
31. The Lucky Man
About Agatha Christie
The Agatha Christie Collection
www.agathachristie.com
About the Publisher
Major Burnaby drew on his gum boots, buttoned his overcoat collar round his neck, took from a shelf near the door a hurricane lantern, and cautiously opened the front door of his little bungalow and peered out.
The scene that met his eyes was typical of the English countryside as depicted on Xmas cards and in old-fashioned melodramas. Everywhere was snow, deep drifts of it—no mere powdering an inch or two thick. Snow had fallen all over England for the last four days, and up here on the fringe of Dartmoor it had attained a depth of several feet. All over England householders were groaning over burst pipes, and to have a plumber friend (or even a plumber’s mate) was the most coveted of all distinctions.
Up here, in the tiny village of Sittaford, at all times remote from the world, and now almost completely cut off, the rigours of winter were a very real problem.
Major Burnaby, however, was a hardy soul. He snorted twice, grunted once, and marched resolutely out into the snow.
His destination was not far away. A few paces along a winding lane, then in at a gate, and so up a drive partially swept clear of snow to a house of some considerable size built of granite.
The door was opened by a neatly clad parlourmaid. The Major was divested of his British Warm, his gum boots and his aged scarf.
A door was flung open and he passed through it into a room which conveyed all the illusion of a transformation scene.
Although it was only half past three the curtains had been drawn, the electric lights were on and a huge fire blazed cheerfully on the hearth. Two women in afternoon frocks rose to greet the staunch old warrior.
‘Splendid of you to turn out, Major Burnaby,’ said the elder of the two.
‘Not at all, Mrs Willett, not at all. Very good of you to ask me.’ He shook hands with them both.
‘Mr Garfield is coming,’ went on Mrs Willett, ‘and Mr Duke, and Mr Rycroft said he would come—but one can hardly expect him at his age in such weather. Really, it is too dreadful. One feels one must do something to keep oneself cheerful. Violet, put another log on the fire.’
The Major rose gallantly to perform this task.
‘Allow me, Miss Violet.’
He put the log expertly in the right place and returned once more to the armchair his hostess had indicated. Trying not to appear