#r

kM,
 Cq"Z*d*r'fr
Agatha Christie (1890-1976) is known throughout the world as
the Queen of Crime. Her books have sold over a billion copies
in English with another billion in over 100 foreign languages.
She is the most widely published and translared author of all
time and in any language; only the Bible and Shakespeare have
sold more copies. She is the author of 80 crime novels and short
story collections, 19 plays, and six other novels. The Mousetrap,
her most famous play, was first staged in 1952 in London and is
still performed there - it is the longest-running play in history.
Agatha Christie's first novel was publishedin 1920.It fearured
Hercule Poirot, the Belgian detective who has become the
most popular detective in crime fiction since Sherlock Holmes.
Collins has published Agatha Christie since 1926.

This series has been especially created for readers

worldwide whose first language is not English. Each story has
been shortened, and the vocabulary and grammar simplified
to make it accessible to readers with a good intermediate
knowledge of the language.

The following features are included after the story:

A List of characters to help the reader identify who is who, and
how they are connected to each other. Cultural notes to explain
historical and other references. A Glossary of words that some
readers may not be familiar with are explained. There is also a
Recording of the story.
 Agatha Christie
A Pocket Full of Rye

Collins
Collins
H arperCollins Publishers
77-85 Fulham Palace R oad
London W 6 8JB
www.collinselt.com
Collins ® is a registered tradem ark o f H arperCollins Publishers Limited.
This Collins English Readers edition published 2012
R eprint 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0
First published in Great B ritain by Collins 1953
AGATHA C H R IST IE ™ MISS M A RPLE™ A Pocket Full o f Rye™
Copyright © 1953 Agatha Christie Limited. All rights reserved.
C opyright © 2012 A Pocket Full o f Rye™ abridged edition Agatha
Christie Limited. All rights reserved,
www. agathachristie.com
ISBN: 978-0-00-745168-5
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Cover by crushed.co.uk © HarperCollins/A gatha Christie Ltd 2008
Typeset by Aptara in India.
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, St Ives pic.
All rights reserved. N o part o f this publication may be reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transm itted, in any form or by any means,
electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, w ithout
the prior permission o f the publishers.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way o f trade
or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without
the publisher’s prior consent in any form o f binding or cover other than
that in which it is published and w ithout a similar condition including this
condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
HarperCollins does not w arrant that www.collinselt.com or any other
website mentioned in this title w ill be provided uninterrupted, that
any website will be error free, that defects w ill be corrected, or that the
website or the server that makes it available are free o f viruses or bugs.
For full terms and conditions please refer to the site terms provided on
the website.
 Contents
Story 1

C haracter list 98

C ultural notes 100

Glossary 105
 Chapter 1
Miss Somers, w ho was not the best typist in the office, poured
the tea and took the cups round.
Miss Griffith, the w ell-organized head typist who had been
w ith Consolidated Investments Trust for sixteen years, tasted her tea
and asked sharply. ‘A re you sure the water was boiling w hen you
put it on the tea leaves, Somers? If it isn’t boiling, the tea tastes
horrible!
At that m om ent Miss Grosvenor, an incredibly glamorous
blonde, w ho was M r Fortescue’s personal secretary, came in to
make his tea herself. Then she w ent out again, carrying the tea
tray in front o f her.
M r Fortescue’s office was a large room w ith a shining
w ood floor and behind a huge desk sat M r Fortescue, a large,
fat m an w ith a bald head. Miss G rosvenor put the tray on
the desk saying quietly, ‘Your tea, M r Fortescue,’ then left.
Miss G rosvenor w ent back into her ow n office, m ade tw o
telephone calls and looked at the clock. It was ten m inutes
past eleven. Just then a terrible cry cam e from M r Fortescue’s
office. M iss G rosvenor rushed in and found her em ployer
behind his desk, his body tw isting in pain. He was finding it
difficult to speak.
‘Tea - w hat did you put in the tea - get a doctor . . .’
Miss Grosvenor w ent running into the typists’ office, shouting,
‘M r Fortescue —we must get a doctor —I’m sure he’s dying.’
But it had never been necessary to call a doctor to the office
before now. W here was there a doctor nearby? Miss Griffith
said, ‘W e can call his ow n doctor! Get the private address book.’
Then, just to be sure, she told the office boy to go out and find
a doctor —anywhere.
 Agatha Christie

Miss Grosvenor said tearfully, ‘There couldn’t have been

anything w rong w ith the tea. But M r Fortescue —he said it was
the tea . . .’
A short while later D r Isaacs, a local doctor the office boy had
found and Sir Edw in Sandeman, M r Fortescue’s doctor, m et in
the lift.
 Chapter 2
Detective Inspector Neele sat behind M r Fortescue’s desk. O ne
o f his officers sat quietly against the wall near the door w ith a
notebook. Inspector Neele looked like an ordinary man, but his
way o f thinking was very imaginative.
Miss Griffith had just left, after giving him an exact report
o f the m orning’s events. Inspector Neele thought o f possible
reasons why the head typist could have poisoned her employer’s
tea, and rejected them as unlikely, because Miss Griffith was
(a) not the type o f person to be a poisoner, (b) not in love w ith
her employer, (c) not a w om an who held grudges.
It was possible, o f course, that M r Fortescue’s sudden illness
had a natural cause, but neither D r Isaacs nor Sir Edw in Sandeman
had thought so.
Miss Grosvenor now came in and said at once, ‘I didn’t do it!
There wasn’t anything w rong w ith the tea!’
Inspector Neele thought o f a possible reason why Miss
Grosvenor m ight have poisoned M r Fortescue: perhaps a love
affair that had gone wrong?
‘I see,’ said Inspector Neele. ‘Your name and address, please?’
‘Irene Grosvenor, 14 R ushm oor R oad, Muswell H ill.’
N o love affair, Neele said to himself. T he address was a
respectable one and she probably lived there w ith her parents.
Inspector N eele questioned her about how she had m ade
M r Fortescue’s tea. T he cup, saucer and teapot had already
been sent for analysis. Irene G rosvenor and only Irene Grosvenor
had touched that cup, saucer and teapot. The kettle had been
refilled from the tap in the small kitchen by Miss Grosvenor.
‘A nd the tea itself?’ asked Neele.
‘It was M r Fortescue’s ow n special China tea. We keep it in
my room .’

3
 Agatha Christie

Inspector Neele asked about sugar and heard that M r Fortescue

didn’t take sugar. The telephone rang and Inspector Neele picked
it up and spoke. ‘Sergeant Hay?’ He nodded to Miss Grosvenor
and said, ‘T hat’s all for now, thank you.’ She w ent out o f the room
quickly.
‘H e died five minutes ago, you say?’Neele said into the phone.
Sergeant Hay had gone to St Jude’s Hospital, where M r Fortescue
had been taken. Twelve forty-three, he wrote in his notebook. Hay
then said that D r BernsdorfF would like to speak to Inspector
Neele. A m om ent later a loud voice made Neele take the
telephone away from his ear.
‘Hello, you old crim e hunter!’ Inspector Neele and D r
Bernsdorff of St Jude’s had worked together on a case o f poisoning
a year ago and had becom e friends.
‘M r Fortescue’s dead, I hear, doc. And the cause o f death?’
‘There will have to be an autopsy, naturally. It’s a very
interesting case. Very interesting indeed.’
‘You don’t think it was a natural death?’ asked Neele.
‘N ot a chance o f it.’
‘H e was poisoned?’
‘Definitely. A nd I’m almost sure w hat the poison was. Taxine,
my boy. Taxine.’
‘Taxine? I’ve never heard o f it,’ said Neele.
‘It’s really very unusual! I don’t think I would have thought of it
myself if I hadn’t had a case only three weeks ago. A couple o f kids
playing dolls’ tea parties pulled some berries off a yew tree and made
tea with them. Extremely poisonous, but I don’t think I’ve heard of
a case where it was used deliberately. It really is most interesting and
unusual. You’ve no idea, Neele, how boring it is when weedkiller
is used all the time. Interesting for you, too, I would think! ’
‘So enjoyable for everyone, is that the idea? Except for the
victim . Did he say anything before he died? ’
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

‘H e said that he had been given som ething in his tea at the
office - but that’s nonsense, because taxine doesn’t w ork that
fast. It takes tw o or three hours to work. And if he had eaten a
big breakfast, it would take even longer.’
‘Breakfast,’ said Inspector Neele thoughtfully. ‘Thanks,
doctor. I’d like to speak to my Sergeant again, if you don’t m ind.’
M oments later Sergeant Hay said urgently, ‘Sir. The suit the
victim was wearing —I checked the contents of the pockets. There
were the usual things —handkerchief, keys, change, wallet —but
there was one thing that’s really strange. The right-hand pocket of
his jacket had grain in it. It looked like rye to me. Q uite a lot of it.’
Inspector Neele got up and w ent into the typists’ office. ‘Miss
Griffith? C an I have a w ord w ith you?’
Miss Griffith followed Neele back into M r Fortescue’s office
and he said, ‘I have heard from St Jude’s Hospital. M r R ex
Fortescue died at 12.43.’
‘I was afraid he was very ill,’ she said.
She was not, Neele noted, at all upset. ‘W ill you please give
me the details o f his hom e and family? ’
‘O f course. I tried to speak to Mrs Fortescue, but it seems she
is out playing golf. They do not know where she is playing, but
they will tell her that M r Fortescue is in hospital when she returns.
I’ve w ritten dow n the telephone num ber for you, but they live at
Baydon Heath and the name o f the house is Yewtree Lodge . . .’
‘W hat ?’ exclaimed Neele, im m ediately connecting the name
of the house w ith the poison that had been used.
Miss Griffith looked at him w ith interest, but Inspector Neele
said no m ore on the subject. ‘Can you give me details of his family?’
‘Mrs Adele Fortescue is his second wife. She is much younger
than he is. The first Mrs Fortescue has been dead a long time.
There are tw o sons and a daughter from the first marriage. The
daughter, Elaine, lives at home and so does the elder son, Percival,

5
 Agatha Christie

who is a partner in the firm . He is away in the north of England

today on business. They are expecting him to return tom orrow.’
‘W hen did he go away?’
‘The day before yesterday.’
‘A nd the second son?’
‘Because of a disagreement w ith his father, Lance Fortescue
lives abroad.’
‘A re both sons married? ’
‘Yes. M r Percival has been m arried for three years. H e and his
wife, Jennifer, are m oving into their ow n house soon.’
‘You were not able to get in touch w ith Jennifer Fortescue
either, when you rang? ’
‘She had gone to London for the day.’ Miss Griffith went
on, ‘M r Lance got m arried less than a year ago. To the widow
o f Lord Frederick Anstice. I expect you’ve seen pictures of Mrs
Patricia in magazines such as the Tatler —w ith horses, you know.
And at horse races.’
Neele assumed that the disagreement w ith his father was
because young Lance Fortescue had been guilty of some bad
behaviour, possibly in business. And now he was m arried to the
widow of Lord Frederick Anstice, a m an w ho had killed him self
rather than face an inquiry about his racehorses.
Neele picked up the phone and dialled and soon a m an’s voice
said, ‘Baydon H eath 3400.’
‘I w ant to speak to M rs Adele Fortescue or Miss Elaine
Fortescue.’
‘They aren’t in, either of them .’
‘A re you the butler? ’
‘T hat’s right.’
‘Is there anyone in the house I can speak to about M r R ex
Fortescue’s illness?’

6
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

‘W ell, there’s Miss Dove, the housekeeper.’

‘I’ll speak to Miss Dove, please.’
A m inute or tw o later a w om an’s voice spoke. ‘This is Miss
Dove.’ T he voice was low and musical.
‘I am sorry to have to tell you, Miss Dove, that M r R ex
Fortescue died a short tim e ago. I need to contact his relatives. . .’
‘O f course,’ she said, her voice calm. ‘The person you really
w ant to speak to is M r Percival Fortescue. You m ight find him
at the M idland Hotel in M anchester or possibly at the Grand in
Leicester. M rs Adele Fortescue w ill be hom e for dinner and she
may be in to tea. It w ill be a great shock to her. M r Fortescue was
well w hen he left here this m orning. W hat was it? His heart?’
‘D id he have heart trouble?’ Neele asked.
‘N o, but as it was so sudden . . .’ She broke off. ‘A re you
speaking from St Jude’s Hospital?’
‘N o, Miss Dove, I’m speaking from M r Fortescue’s office. I
am Detective Inspector Neele and I w ill be com ing dow n to see
you as soon as I can get there.’
‘Detective Inspector? D o you m ean . . . what do you mean? ’
‘Miss Dove, w hen there is a sudden death, we are called to the
scene, especially w hen the deceased hadn’t seen a doctor lately —
he hadn’t, had he?’
‘N o. M r Percival m ade an appointm ent tw ice for him , but
he refused to go. H e was quite unreasonable — they were all
w orried . . .’ She broke off and then continued as calmly as
before. ‘If M rs Fortescue returns to the house before you arrive,
w hat do you w ant me to tell her? ’
W hat a practical and sensible w om an she is, thought Inspector
Neele. Aloud he said, ‘J ust tell her that in a case of sudden death
we have to make a few inquiries. R outine inquiries.’

7
 Chapter 3
Neele looked at Miss Griffith seriously. ‘So they wanted him to
see a doctor. You didn’t tell me that.’
‘I didn’t think o f it,’ said Miss Griffith. ‘He never seemed to
me really ill — just unlike himself. O nce or tw ice I thought he
had been drinking . . . For most o f the tim e I’ve been here he was
always very secretive about his business affairs, but recently he’d
been talking openly about them , and spending large amounts of
m oney —which wasn’t like him . It seemed like he was looking
forward to som ething exciting. And some very strange-looking
people came to see him on business. It w orried M r Percival. M r
Fortescue was doing a lot o f things that M r Percival thought
were unwise. But suddenly his father didn’t listen to him any
m ore and M r Percival was very upset.’
‘A nd they had a real fight about it all?’ Inspector Neele asked.
‘I don’t know about a fight, but once, M r Fortescue came into
the typists’ room w ith M r Percival and he called him names and
swore at him . H e said M r Percival was too scared to expand the
business in a big way. H e said, “I shall bring Lance hom e again.
H e’s w orth ten o f you —and he m arried well. Lance is fearless and
brave, even if he did risk a crim inal prosecution once.” O h dear,
I wish I hadn’t said that!’
‘D on’t worry,’ said Inspector Neele com fortingly. ‘W hat’s
past is past. Tell me a little m ore about the staff here.’
 Chapter 4
Inspector Neele was looking at the outside o f Yewtree Lodge, a
large, solid, red-brick building. The gardens were laid out in rose
beds and ponds, with large numbers o f neat yew hedges — and
there was a huge yew tree, clearly very old. And possibly the
poisonous berries from that very tree . . . ? Inspector Neele rang
the bell. The door was opened by a nervous-looking middle-aged
man w ho invited Neele and Sergeant Hay in.
‘Has M rs Adele Fortescue returned yet?’
‘N o, Sir.’
‘N or Miss Elaine Fortescue?’
‘N o, Sir.’
‘T hen I w ould like to see Miss Dove, please.’
T he m an turned his head slightly. ‘H ere’s Miss Dove now —
com ing dow n the stairs.’
T he w ord housekeeper had given N eele an im pression
o f som eone large and pow erful, dressed in black, and so the
Inspector was quite unprepared for the small neat figure
com ing tow ards him . T he light brow n colour o f her dress
w ith its w hite collar and cuffs, the neat waves o f hair and
the slight sm ile, all seem ed a little unreal, as though this
young w om an o f under th irty was playing a part; not, N eele
thought, the part o f a housekeeper, but the part o f M ary
D ove, gentle and quiet like the bird, the dove, that shared
her surnam e.
‘Inspector N eele?’
‘Yes. This is Sergeant Hay. It seems likely that M r Fortescue’s
death was caused by som ething he ate at breakfast this m orning.
I would like Sergeant Hay to be taken to the kitchen, where he
can ask about the food that was served.’

9
 Agatha Christie

H er eyes m et his for a m om ent, thoughtfully, then she said,

‘O f course.’ She turned to the butler, who was standing nervously
nearby. ‘Crum p, w ill you take Sergeant Hay?’
The tw o m en left. M ary Dove said to Neele, ‘W ill you come
in here?’ She opened the door o f a sitting room and led him into
it. ‘Please sit dow n.’
M ary Dove sat opposite him . She chose, he noticed, to face
the light. A n unusual choice for a wom an. Still m ore unusual
if a wom an had anything to hide. But perhaps M ary Dove had
nothing to hide.
‘M rs Adele Fortescue may return at any m inute. And so may
M rs Jennifer. I have sent telegrams to M r Percival Fortescue at
various places.’
‘T hank you, Miss Dove.’
‘You say that M r Fortescue’s death was caused by som ething
he may have eaten for breakfast? It seems unlikely. For breakfast
this m orning there was bacon and eggs, coffee, toast and
marmalade. There was a cold ham, too, but that was also eaten
yesterday, and no one was ill. N o fish o f any kind was served. For
dinner last n ig h t. . .’
‘N o.’ Inspector Neele interrupted her. ‘W e are not interested
in dinner last night. W ill you tell me exactly w hat M r Fortescue
ate and drank this m orning?’
‘He had early tea brought to his room at eight o’clock.
Breakfast was at a quarter past nine. M r Fortescue had eggs,
bacon, coffee, toast and marmalade.’
‘A ny cereal? ’
‘N o, he didn’t like cereal.’
‘The sugar for the coffee . . .’
‘M r Fortescue did not take sugar in his coffee,’ Miss Dove
interrupted.

10
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

‘D id he take any medicines in the m orning?’

‘N o, nothing like that.’
‘W ho was at breakfast?’
‘M rs Adele, Miss Elaine and M rs Jennifer. M rs Adele has
only coffee, orange juice and toast, M rs Jennifer and Miss Elaine
always eat a large breakfast. As well as eating eggs and cold ham,
they w ould probably have cereal as well. Mrs Jennifer drinks tea,
not coffee.’
T hree people had had breakfast w ith the deceased. Any o f
them m ight have had the opportunity to put taxine in Fortescue’s
cup o f coffee. The bitterness o f the coffee would have hidden the
bitter taste o f the taxine . . . Neele looked up to find M ary Dove
watching him .
‘Your questions about medicines seem to me rather strange,
Inspector,’ she said. ‘It seems to suggest that either there was
som ething w rong w ith a m edicine, or that som ething had been
put into it.’
Neele looked at her seriously. ‘I did not say that M r Fortescue
died o f food poisoning. But some kind o f poisoning. In fact —just
poisoning.’
She repeated quietly, ‘Poisoning . . .’ She appeared neither
surprised nor anxious, simply interested. She said, ‘I have never
been involved w ith a poisoning case before.’
‘It’s not very pleasant,’ Neele told her.
‘N o - I suppose n o t. . .’ She looked up at him w ith a sudden
smile. ‘I didn’t do it,’ she said. ‘But I suppose everybody says
that!’
‘Have you any idea who did do it, Miss Dove?’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘H e was a horrible man. Anybody
m ight have done it.’
‘Miss Dove, tell me som ething about the household here.’

II
 Agatha Christie

She looked up at him . H e was a little surprised to see she

looked amused.
‘I don’t w ant w hat I am going to say to be repeated at the
inquest, but I would like to say it —unofficially.’
‘I’m listening, Miss Dove.’
She leaned back. ‘Let me start by saying that I’ve no feeling o f
loyalty to my employers. I work for them because it’s a job that
pays well and I insist that it pays well.’
Neele said, ‘I was a little surprised to find you doing this type
o f job. W ith your obvious intelligence . . .’
‘I ought to be w orking in an office?’ interrupted M ary
Dove. ‘M y dear Inspector Neele, some people w ill pay
anything —anything —to avoid household worries. Firstly, finding
and employing staff is very boring. Secondly, running the house
properly requires abilities that most o f the people I work for
don’t have.’
‘A nd w hat happens if your staff leave you unexpectedly? I’ve
heard of such things.’
M ary smiled. ‘If necessary, I can make the beds, clean the
rooms, cook a meal and serve it, w ithout anyone noticing the
difference. But I work only for the extrem ely rich, w ho w ill pay
anything to be comfortable. I pay top prices and so I get the best
people available.’
‘Such as the butler?’ Neele asked, rem em bering the nervous
Crum p, whose red nose said he clearly liked alcohol too much.
She was amused. ‘C rum p stays because o f M rs Crum p, who is
one o f the best cooks I’ve ever worked w ith. As for Crum p, he’s
not such a bad butler, really. I keep the key o f the w ine cellar and
I watch the whisky and gin carefully. But you wanted to know
what I think o f the family. They are all really horrible. The late
M r Fortescue was the type o f businessman w ho is always careful

12
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

to w ork just on the right side o f the law. H e was rude and a bully.
Mrs Fortescue, Adele - is about thirty years younger than he
was —w ith real sex appeal, if you know w hat I m ean.’
Inspector Neele was shocked. A girl like M ary Dove ought
not to say such things, he felt.
T he young lady was continuing, Adele m arried him for his
money, and Percival and Elaine are as nasty as they can be to her,
but she doesn’t care. R ex Fortescue would do anything for her.
O h dear, the w rong tense. I haven’t really understood yet that
he’s dead . . .’
‘Let’s hear about Percival Fortescue.’
‘Percival is a sly man. H e’s terrified o f his father and has
always let him self be bullied.’
‘A nd his w ife?’
‘J ennifer is quiet and seems very stupid. But she was a hospital
nurse before her marriage — she nursed Percival when he had
pneum onia and then he m arried her. R ex Fortescue disliked
poor Jennifer. She dislikes —disliked him a lot, I think. H er m ain
interests are shopping and the cinema; her m ain complaint is that
her husband, Percival, doesn’t give her enough money.’
‘W hat about the daughter?’
‘Elaine? She’s one of those schoolgirls who never grow up.
There was some sort of rom ance w ith a young schoolmaster,
Gerald W right, but M r Fortescue discovered the young m an had
com m unist ideas and made them end the relationship.’
‘She hadn’t got the courage to stand up to him ?’
‘She had. It was the young m an w ho w ent away. I don’t
think he liked the idea that if she had m arried him , her father
would have stopped giving her m oney to live on. Elaine is not
particularly attractive.’
A n d the other son?’
 Agatha Christie

‘I’ve never seen M r Lance. H e’s attractive, everyone says, but

a bad boy. He forged a cheque in the past. He lives in East Africa.
M r Fortescue couldn’t throw him out o f the business completely
because he’d already made him a junior partner, but he hadn’t
kept in touch w ith him for years. All the same, I w ouldn’t be
surprised if old Fortescue had been planning to get him back
here. About a m onth ago, he discovered som ething that his
eldest son, Percival, had been doing behind his back — I don’t
know what it was —and he was furious.’
‘Now, what about the servants? You’ve described the Crumps.
W ho else is there?’
‘Gladys M artin is the parlourm aid. She cleans the downstairs
rooms, lays the table, clears away and helps C rum p wait at table.
Q uite a respectable sort of girl, but very stupid. Ellen Curtis is
elderly and bad-tem pered, but an excellent housem aid.’
‘A nd those are the only people living here?’
‘There’s old Miss R am sbottom , M r Fortescue’s first wife’s
sister, who is well over seventy. She has a room on the second
floor and never comes downstairs. She never liked her brother-
in-law, but she came here while her sister was alive and stayed
on when she died. M r Fortescue isn’t very interested in her. She’s
quite a character, though, is Miss R am sbottom —or A unt Effie
as everyone calls her.’
‘So we come to you, Miss Dove.’
‘I’m an orphan. I took a secretarial course and then a job as
a shorthand typist. I decided I was in the w rong business, and
started on my present career. I have been w ith three different
employers. After about eighteen m onths I get tired o f a place and
move on. I have been at Yewtree Lodge for just over a year. I
w ill type out the names and addresses o f my previous employers
and give them, w ith a copy o f my references, to Sergeant Hay.’

14
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

Neele was silent for a m om ent, enjoying a mental image of

Miss Dove collecting yew berries in a little basket. W ith a sigh
he returned to the present. ‘Now, I would like to see Gladys
M artin and then Ellen Curtis.’ H e added as he stood up, ‘By the
way, Miss Dove, can you give me any idea why M r Fortescue
would be carrying loose grain —rye, in fact —in his pocket?’
‘G rain?’ She stared at him .
‘Yes —grain. Does that m ean anything to you, Miss D ove?’
‘N othing at all.’
‘W ho looked after his clothes?’
‘C rum p.’
‘I see. D id M r Fortescue and Mrs Fortescue share the same
bedroom ?’
‘Yes. H e had a dressing room and bathroom , o f course, and so
did she . . .’ M ary looked dow n at her wristwatch. ‘I really think
that she ought to be back very soon now.’
The Inspector said in a pleasant voice, ‘It seems to me very
strange that even though there are three golf courses in the
neighbourhood, it has not been possible to find Mrs Fortescue
on one o f them . W ho was she playing with? ’
‘I think it is possible that it m ight be M r Vivian Dubois.’
<T
I see. 5
‘I’ll send Gladys in to you. She’ll probably be scared to death.’
M ary Dove w ent out. Inspector Neele looked at the closed
door. W hat she had told him was very useful. If R ex Fortescue
had been deliberately poisoned, and it seemed almost certain that
he had, then there appeared to be plenty o f motives at Yewtree
Lodge.

is
 Chapter 5
T he girl w ho entered the room looked a bit dirty in spite of
being tall and smartly dressed in a dark red uniform . She said
at once, anxiously, ‘I didn’t do anything. I didn’t really. I don’t
know anything about it.’
‘T hat’s all right, Gladys,’ said Neele in a com forting voice. ‘Sit
dow n here. I just w ant to know about breakfast this m orning.’
He learnt little from her that he did not know already. Neele
questioned her about herself and discovered that she had been in
a private house first and after that had worked in various cafes.
She had come to Yewtree Lodge in September. She had been
there tw o months.
‘Tell me about M r Fortescue’s clothes —his suits. W ho took
care of them ?’
Gladys looked slightly annoyed. ‘M r C rum p’s supposed to.
But half the tim e he makes me do it.’
‘Have you ever found grain in the pocket o f one o f his suits?
Rye, to be exact. There was some in the pocket o f your master’s
jacket. D o you know how it got there?’
‘I couldn’t say. I never saw any.’
H e could get no more inform ation from her. She certainly
seemed uneasy —but that was probably a natural fear o f the police.
Inspector Neele went down to the kitchen where a very fat
wom an stepped towards him in a threatening way. ‘Police!’ she
said. ‘A ny food that I’ve sent into the dining room has been just
what it should be. H ow dare you come here and say that I poisoned
the master! N o bad food has ever been served in this house.’
It was some tim e before Neele could reassure M rs Crum p
that no one was accusing her o f poisoning R ex Fortescue, then
their conversation was ended by the ringing o f the telephone.
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

Neele w ent out into the hall to find M ary Dove taking the
call. She was w riting down a message on a notepad. T urning her
head she said, ‘It’s a telegram. T he post office can’t send anyone
so they called instead . . .’
She handed the notepad to the Inspector. The telegram had
come from Paris and the message, addressed to R ex Fortescue,
said:

I ’m sorry but your letter to me was delayed. We will be with you

tomorrow about teatime. I will expect roast beef for dinner. Lance.

‘So the Bad Boy son had been asked to come hom e,’ Inspector
Neele said.

17
 Chapter 6
Inspector Neele was still holding the message when he heard a
car drive up. M ary Dove said, ‘That w ill be M rs Fortescue now.’
As Inspector Neele moved forwards to the front door, he saw
M ary Dove disappear.
T he car was a Rolls Bentley sports model. Two people came
towards the house as Neele opened the front door. Surprised,
Adele Fortescue stared at Inspector Neele, who realized at once
that Adele Fortescue spoke and moved and breathed sex appeal.
He then looked at the man behind her, w ho was carrying her
golf clubs. He knew the type very well. They made their living
from the young wives o f rich elderly men.
‘Mrs Fortescue? I am Inspector Neele. I’m afraid I have bad news
for you. Your husband became seriously ill this morning. W e’ve
been trying to contact you since half-past eleven. He was taken to St
Jude’s and I’m afraid you must prepare yourself for a shock.’
‘You don’t m ean — he’s - dead.' She fell forward a little and
held onto his arm and the Inspector took her into the hall.
Crum p was there. ‘She’ll be needing brandy,’ he said.
The deep voice of M r Dubois said, ‘That’s right, Crump. Get the
brandy.’ To the Inspector he said, ‘In here.’ He opened the sitting
room door and Adele Fortescue sat down on a chair, her eyes
covered with her hand. She accepted the glass that the Inspector
offered a minute later and drank a tiny amount, then pushed it away.
‘I don’t want it. Tell me, what was it? A stroke. I suppose? Poor Rex.’
‘It wasn’t a stroke. I’m afraid we need to find out as soon as
possible exactly w hat M r Fortescue had to eat or drink before he
left for the office this m orning.’
‘D o you m ean he m ight have been poisoned ? I can’t believe it.
O h —you m ean food poisoning.’

18
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

His face showing nothing, Inspector Neele said, ‘M adam?

W hat did you think I m eant?’
She ignored that question as Dubois said, looking at his watch, ‘I
must go, Adele. I’m very, very sorry. You’ll be all right, won’t you?’
‘O h, Vivian, don’t. D on’t go!’ Adele Fortescue said.
‘I’m really sorry but I’ve got an im portant m eeting. I’m
staying at the G olf Hotel, by the way, Inspector. If you —er —w ant
me for anything.’
Inspector Neele nodded. M r Dubois was clearly running
away from trouble! Adele Fortescue said, ‘I expect it’s the awful
bacon we get. It’s quite uneatable sometimes.’
‘We shall find out, Mrs Fortescue. You’ve got a lot o f yew
trees round the house. Is it possible that some of the berries or
leaves got mixed up in any food or drink?’
Adele put her hands to her head. ‘I don’t w ant to talk about
it! I can’t stand any more. M r Percival Fortescue w ill arrange
everything. I can’t . . . I can’t . . . it isn’t fair to ask me.’
‘T here’s just one thing, Mrs Fortescue. There was a small
am ount o f grain in your husband’s pocket. Could you give me
some explanation of that? ’
She shook her head, puzzled.
‘W ould anyone have put it in there as a joke?’
‘I don’t see why it would be a joke.’ She pulled out a
handkerchief. ‘It’s so awful,’ she said. ‘Poor R ex. Poor dear R ex.’
She began to cry as Inspector Neele watched her.
‘It’s been very sudden, I know,’ he said. ‘I’ll send someone
in to you.’ H e w ent towards the door and paused for a m om ent
before looking back.
Adele Fortescue still held the handkerchief to her eyes. The
ends o f it hung dow n but did not quite hide her m outh. O n her
lips was a very small smile.

19
 Chapter 7
‘I’ve got w hat I could, Sir,’ Sergeant Hay reported. ‘The
m armalade, a piece o f the ham and samples of tea, coffee and
sugar. W hat they actually drank has been throw n away, o f
course, but there was a lot o f coffee left over and the staff had it
in the servants’ hall.’
‘So if the poison was in the coffee Fortescue drank, it must have
been put into the actual cup by someone at the table,’ said Neele.
The telephone rang and Neele nodded to Sergeant Hay,
w ho w ent to answer it. It was Scotland Yard. They had finally
contacted Percival Fortescue, who was returning to London
immediately. As the Inspector replaced the telephone receiver, a
w om an arrived at the front door, her arms full o f parcels. Crum p
took them from her.
‘Thanks, Crum p. I’ll have tea now. Is M rs Fortescue or Miss
Elaine in?’
The butler hesitated. ‘W e’ve had bad news, ma’am,’ he said.
‘A bout the master.’
Neele came forward as she said, ‘W h at’s happened? A n
accident?’ Mrs Jennifer Fortescue was a slightly overweight
wom an o f about thirty. H er questions came w ith obvious interest.
‘I’m sorry to tell you that M r R ex Fortescue was taken to St
Jude’s Hospital. H e was seriously ill and has since died,’ Neele
said quietly.
‘D ied?’ The news was clearly m ore exciting than sad. ‘Dear
me - are you from the office? You’re not a doctor, are you?’
‘I’m a police officer. M r Fortescue’s death was very sudden
and . . .’
She interrupted him . ‘D o you m ean he was murdered? ’ It was
the first tim e that word had been spoken.
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

‘N ow why should you think that, M adam? ’

‘W ell, you said sudden. And you’re police. Have you seen her
about it? W hat did she say? ’
‘W ho are you talking about?’
‘A dele, o f course. He was completely under that awful
w om an’s spell — and now look w hat’s happened . . . W hat was
it? Arsenic?’
‘The cause o f death has not been decided yet. There w ill be
an autopsy and an inquest.’
‘But you know already, don’t you? O r you w ouldn’t have
come dow n here.’ There was a sudden look o f understanding in
her rather silly face. ‘You’ve been asking about what he ate and
drank, I suppose?’
Neele said, ‘It seems possible that M r Fortescue’s illness was
caused by som ething he ate at breakfast.’
‘Breakfast? I don’t see how she could have done it, then . . .
unless she put som ething into the coffee — when Elaine and I
w eren’t looking . . .’
A quiet voice spoke softly, ‘Your tea is in the library, Mrs Jennifer.’
Jennifer Fortescue jum ped. ‘O h thank you, Miss Dove. W hat
about you, M r —Inspector . . .’
‘T hank you, no tea just now.’
Jennifer w ent slowly away as M ary Dove said quietly, ‘I don’t
think she’s ever heard o f the w ord slander. Is there anything I can
do for you, Inspector Neele?’
‘W here can I find the housemaid, Ellen?’
★★★
Ellen was as bad-tem pered as M ary Dove had said she was, but
she was also unafraid. ‘It’s a shocking business. Sir. And I never
thought I’d find myself in a house where such an awful thing has

21
 Agatha Christie

happened. But I can’t say that it surprises me. O f course, I don’t

approve of w hat’s been going on here. All this pretending to play
golf — or tennis — and the library door was open one day and
there they were, kissing.’
Neele really felt it unnecessary to say, ‘W hom do you m ean?’
but he said it anyway.
‘I m ean M rs Adele — and that m an Dubois. You’ve been
asking questions, Sir, about what the master ate and drank and
who gave it to him . T hat Dubois found some kind of poison
somewhere and she gave it to the master, I’ve no doubt.’
‘Have you ever seen any yew berries in the house?’
‘Yew? Nasty poisonous stuff. D on’t you even touch yew
berries, my m other said to me w hen I was a child. Was that what
was used, Sir? W ell, I’ve never seen her w ith yew berries.’ Ellen
sounded disappointed.
Neele questioned her about the grain found in Fortescue’s
pocket.
‘N o, Sir. I know nothing about that.’
Finally he asked if he could see Miss R am sbottom , and Ellen
took him upstairs. She knocked on a door, then opened it and
said, ‘T here’s a policeman here, an Inspector, who w ould like to
speak to you, Miss.’
The room he entered was full of furniture and an old lady
was sitting at a table in front o f a gas fire, laying out cards in
a game o f patience. W ithout looking up, she said impatiently,
‘Well, come in, come in. W hat is it?’
‘I’m sorry to tell you, Miss R am sbottom , that your brother-
in-law, M r Fortescue, became ill and died this m orning. I hope
it’s not a shock to you?’
Miss R am sbottom looked at him sharply and said, ‘N ot at all.
R ex Fortescue was always a sinful m an and I never liked him .’

22
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

‘It seems possible that he may have been poisoned . . .’

‘Well, I didn’t poison him , if that’s w hat you want to know .’
‘Have you any idea who m ight have done so?’
‘Two o f my dead sister’s children are living in this house,’ said
the old lady. ‘I refuse to believe that anybody w ith R am sbottom
blood in them could be guilty o f m urder. Because it is murder,
isn’t it? Plenty o f people have w anted to m urder R ex. He
is —was — a very crooked m an.’
‘A nd is there anyone in particular you believe m ight have
wanted to m urder M r Fortescue?’
Miss R am sbottom collected her cards and rose to her feet. ‘I
think you’d better go now,’ she said. ‘If you w ant my opinion, it
was probably one o f the servants. G ood evening.’
Inspector Neele found him self w alking out w ithout argum ent.
He came dow n the stairs and came face to face w ith a tall, dark
girl w earing a damp raincoat.
‘I’ve just come back,’ she said. ‘A nd they told me — that
Father’s dead.’
‘I’m afraid that’s true.’
Slowly tw o tears ran dow n her cheeks. ‘It’s awful,’ Elaine
Fortescue said. ‘D o you know, I didn’t think that I even liked
him . . . I thought I hated him . . . But that can’t be so, or I
w ouldn’t be upset. A nd I am upset. The awful thing is that it
makes everything alright. I mean, Gerald —my boyfriend —and
I can get m arried now. But I hate it happening this way. I don’t
w ant Father to be dead . . . O h Daddy —Daddy . . .’
For the first tim e since he had come to Yewtree Lodge,
Inspector Neele was surprised by w hat seemed to be real grief
for the dead man.

23
 Chapter 8
Back at Scotland Yard, the Assistant Com m issioner had been
listening to Neele giving his report. ‘It sounds to me as if the
wife m urdered him ,’ said the Assistant Commissioner. ‘W hat do
you think, Neele, eh?’
Inspector Neele said that it looked like the wife to him , too.
‘W hat about the other people in the house w ho had the
opportunity? ’ asked the Assistant Commissioner.
‘The daughter, Elaine, was involved with a young man, Gerald
W right, but her father didn’t want her to m arry him. And he
definitely wasn’t going to m arry her unless she had money. That
gives her a motive. As to the daughter-in-law, Jennifer, I don’t know
enough about her yet. But any one of the three of them could have
poisoned him. The parlourmaid, the butler and the cook all handled
the breakfast or brought it in, but I don’t see how any of them could
have been sure that Fortescue would get the taxine and nobody
else. The butler and the parlourmaid both seem nervous, but there’s
nothing unusual about that w ith servants. The cook’s angry and the
housemaid was pleased. In fact, all quite natural and normal.’
‘Is there anybody else who m ight be suspicious in some way?’
‘No, I don’t think so, Sir.’ Inspector N eele’s m ind w ent to
M ary Dove, but aloud he said, ‘N ow that analysis has shown that
it’s definitely taxine, it should be possible to find some evidence
as to how it was prepared.’
‘Well, go ahead, Neele. By the way, M r Percival Fortescue is
waiting to see you. W e’ve found the other son, Lance, too. H e’s
in Paris, leaving today. You’ll arrange for someone to m eet him
at the airport, w on’t you?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
★★★

24
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

M r Percival Fortescue was a neat, fair m an o f about thirty,

w ith pale hair and eyelashes. ‘This has been a terrible shock to
me, Inspector Neele, as you can well imagine. I can only say that
my father was perfectly well w hen I left. This food poisoning
must have been very sudden? ’
‘It was very sudden, yes. But it wasn’t food poisoning. Your
father was poisoned by taxine.’
‘Taxine? I’ve never heard o f it.’
‘Very few people have. It is a most unpleasant poison.’
‘T hat’s terrible!’
‘Yes indeed, M r Fortescue.’
‘M ay I ask, do you have any ideas, any suspicions of who
could . . . Really, I . . .’ He broke off.
‘It’s rather soon for that, M r Fortescue. It would be helpful if
you could give us some idea of your father’s w ill.’
‘M y father made a new w ill w hen he got m arried tw o years
ago,’ said Percival. ‘He left .£100,000 to his wife and £50,000
to my sister, Elaine. I inherit everything else. I am already, of
course, a partner in the firm .’
‘There was no bequest to your brother, Lance?’
‘N o, my father had refused to have any contact w ith my
brother for a long tim e.’
‘So,’ said Inspector Neele, ‘the three people who inherit your
father’s fortune are Mrs Adele Fortescue, Miss Elaine Fortescue
and yourself?’
‘I don’t think there w ill be m uch o f a fortune.’ Percival sighed.
‘There are death duties, and lately my father had been behaving
recklessly in some o f his financial dealings.’
‘You say your father and brother were not in touch w ith one
another? T hen perhaps you can tell me w hat this m eans?’ Neele
gave him the telephone message M ary Dove had w ritten down.

25
 Agatha Christie

Percival was surprised and annoyed. ‘I can’t understand it, I

really can’t. I can hardly believe it.’
‘Your father said nothing to you about it?’
‘He certainly did not. H ow outrageous of him . To go behind
my back and send for Lance.’
‘You’ve no idea, I suppose, why he did such a thing?’
‘O f course I haven’t. It’s exactly like all his behaviour lately —
crazy! It’s got to be stopped. I . . .’ Percival came to a stop. The
colour went from his already pale face. ‘I had forgotten . . . for
a m om ent I had forgotten that my father was dead . . .’

26
 Chapter 9
‘It’s quite amazing,’ said Lance Fortescue. H e stared at Detective
Inspector Neele, w ho had m et him and his wife at the airport
and had taken them into a small office. Neele said, ‘You’ve no
idea then at all, w ho m ight have poisoned your father?’
‘N o. I expect the old m an m ade a lot o f enemies in business.
But poisoning? Anyway, I’ve been abroad for years and know
very little of w hat was going on at hom e.’
‘W ould you like to tell me why you came hom e at this tim e?’
‘Certainly, Inspector. I heard from m y father six m onths ago,
soon after my marriage. H e suggested that I came hom e and
enter the firm. I came over to England three months ago and
went dow n to see him at Yewtree Lodge. He made me a very
good offer and I flew back to East Africa to discuss it w ith my
wife, Pat. A nd I decided to accept the offer. I had to finish up my
business there, and I told him I would send him a telegram w ith
the date o f my arrival in England.’
Inspector Neele coughed. ‘This seems to have caused your
brother some surprise.’
Lance’s attractive face lit up w ith laughter. ‘I believe Percival
knew nothing about it,’ he said. ‘H e was on holiday in N orw ay
w hen I came over and I suspect that my father made his offer
to me because he had had a huge fight w ith poor Percival. It
would be just the old m an’s idea of a good joke to bring me
home. However, as usual, Percy wins. I’ve arrived too late.’
‘Yes,’ said Inspector Neele thoughtfully. ‘O n your visit last
August, did you m eet any other members o f the family?’
‘M y stepm other was there at tea.’ H e grinned. ‘The old boy
certainly knew how to choose a w om an.’
‘W ere you upset about your father’s rem arriage?’

27
 Agatha Christie

‘I certainly wasn’t. W hat I’m really surprised at, is that the old
m an didn’t m arry again before. Is that how it is, Inspector? Do
you suspect my stepm other o f poisoning my father? ’
Inspector N eele’s face became blank. ‘It’s early days to
have any definite ideas about anything, M r Fortescue,’ he said
pleasantly. ‘Now, may I ask you what your plans are?’
‘W here is the family? All down at Yewtree Lodge?’
‘Yes.’
‘I should go dow n there straight away.’ He turned to his wife.
‘A nd you should go and stay at the Barnes’s Hotel, Pat. I’m not
sure of my welcome - and I don’t w ant to take you to a house
where there’s a poisoner around.’

28
 Chapter 10
Vivian Dubois tore up Adele Fortescue’s letter angrily. Adele had
telephoned him three times, and now she had written. O n the
whole, w riting was far worse. H e w ent to the telephone. ‘Can I
speak to Mrs Adele Fortescue, please?’ A m inute or two later he
heard her voice.
‘Vivian, at last! O h, darling, the police have finally gone!’
‘Yes, yes, but look here, Adele, we’ve got to be careful. D on’t
telephone me and don’t m ite .Just for now, you understand? We must be
careful. And Adele, my letters to you.You did burn them, didn’t you?’
There was a m om ent’s hesitation before Adele Fortescue said,
‘O f course.’
‘T hat’s all right then.You’ll hear from me soon.’ H e didn’t like
that hesitation. His letters were innocent enough, he thought, but
he could not be sure. Even if Adele had not already burnt his
letters, would she have the sense to burn them now? W here did
she keep them? Probably in that sitting room o f hers upstairs in
that fake antique desk. She had said there was a secret drawer
in it. Secret drawer! That w ouldn’t fool the police for long. But
there were no police at the house now. They were probably busy
looking for how R ex Fortescue was poisoned. They would not
have done a room -by-room search o f the house. It was possible
that if he acted at once ...
★★★
M ary Dove paused at the w indow on the stairs, and in the
late afternoon light outside noticed a m an disappearing behind
some bushes. Was it Lance Fortescue, w alking round the garden
before com ing in to face a possibly unfriendly family? In the hall
she saw Gladys, w ho jum ped in surprise w hen she saw her.

29
 Agatha Christie

‘Was that the telephone I heard just now ?’ M ary asked.

‘O h, that was a w rong num ber.’ Gladys sounded breathless.
‘And before that, it was M r Dubois. H e w anted to speak to the
mistress.’
M ary said, ‘Haven’t you taken the tea in yet? It’s tw enty
minutes to five. Bring it in now, w ill you?’ M ary Dove went into
the library and Gladys w ent to the kitchen, w here Mrs Crum p
was m aking a pie. ‘The library bell’s been ringing and ringing.
It’s tim e you took in the tea, my girl.’
‘A ll right, all right, Mrs C rum p.’
Gladys w ent into the pantry. She wasn’t going to m ake
sandwiches. T hey had cakes and biscuits and scones and honey.
She had other things to th in k about. She m ade the tea in the
silver pot, then carried the tea things on the big silver tray
through to the library. She w ent back for the other tray w ith
the food on it and had carried it as far as the hall, w hen the
sudden ringing o f the clock in the hall at five o’clock made
her jum p.
In the library, Adele Fortescue said sharply to M ary Dove,
‘W here is everybody? ’
‘I really don’t know, M rs Fortescue. Miss Elaine came in
some time ago and I think M rs Jennifer’s w riting letters in her
room. I’ll tell her that tea is ready.’
Going towards the door, she stood aside as Elaine Fortescue
came into the room , then stopped for a m om ent in the hall. A
large tray w ith cakes and scones on it was on one o f the hall tables
and she thought she heard Jennifer Fortescue w alking upstairs.
Nobody, however, came down the stairs and M ary w ent up and
along the corridor. She knocked on a door and Mrs Jennifer’s
voice said, ‘Com e in.’ M ary opened the door. ‘Tea is just about to
be served, Mrs Jennifer.’ She was rather surprised to see Jennifer

30
 A Pocket Full of Rye

Fortescue taking off a w arm coat. ‘I didn’t know you’d been out,’
said Mary.
Jennifer sounded slightly out o f breath. ‘O h, I was just in
the garden, getting a little fresh air. But really, it was too cold.’
Jennifer Fortescue followed M ary out o f the room.
Downstairs in the hall, to M ary’s surprise, the tray o f food was
still on the table. She was about to go and call Gladys w hen Adele
Fortescue appeared in the door o f the library, saying, ‘Aren’t we
ever going to have anything to eat for tea?’
Quickly, M ary picked up the tray and took it in. She was
carrying the em pty tray out again w hen the front door bell rang.
M ary w ent to the door. If this was Lance Fortescue at last, she
was rather curious to see him.
‘H ow unlike the rest of the Fortescues,’ M ary thought, as she
looked up into the dark, handsome face. She said quietly, ‘M r
Lance Fortescue?’
‘Himself.’
M ary looked past him . ‘Your luggage?’
‘I’ve paid the taxi. This is all I’ve got.’ H e picked up a
m edium -sized bag.
‘O h, I thought you walked up. A nd your w ife?’
‘M y wife w on’t be coming. At least, not just yet.’
‘I see. Com e this way, M r Fortescue. Everyone is having tea.’
She took him to the library door and left him there. She
thought to herself that Lance Fortescue was a very attractive
man. A second thought followed the first, probably a great many
other w om en thought so, too.
★★★
‘Lance!’ Elaine threw her arms round his neck w ith delight.
He took them away gently and looked around the room.

31
 Agatha Christie

‘This is Jennifer?’
Jennifer Fortescue looked at him w ith curiosity. ‘I’m afraid
Percival’s been delayed in tow n,’ she said. ‘He has to organize
everything. You really have no idea w hat w e’re all feeling.’
‘It must be terrible for you,’ said Lance seriously, then he
turned to the w om an on the sofa, w ho was sitting w ith a piece
o f scone and honey in her hand.
‘O f course,’ cried Jennifer, ‘you don’t know Adele, do you?’
Lance said quietly, ‘O h yes, I do,’ as he took Adele Fortescue’s
hand in his. As he looked down at her, her eyelids fluttered. She said
in her lovely soft voice, ‘Sit down here on the sofa beside me, Lance.
I’m so glad you’ve come, we badly need another man in the house.’
Lance said, ‘You must let me do everything I can to help.’
‘The police here. They think . . . they think . . .’ she broke off
and cried out passionately. ‘O h, it’s awful! H e was poisoned, and
I really do believe they think it was one o f us.’
Lance gave her a sudden quick smile. ‘It’s no good w orrying,’
he said, and changing the subject, exclaimed, ‘O h what a
wonderful chocolate cake. I must have some.’ C utting him self a
slice, he asked, ‘Is A unt Effie alive still?’
‘Oh, yes, Lance. She w on’t come down and have meals w ith us,
but she’s quite well. O nly she’s getting very strange,’ said Elaine.
‘She always was strange,’ said Lance. ‘I must go up and see her
after tea. And w ho’s the young lady w ith the soft voice and sweet
face w ho let me in? W hat goes on behind it, I w ouldn’t like to say.’
‘That,’ saidjennifer, ‘is M ary Dove. She looks after everything
for us.’
‘Does she, now ?’
Adele said, ‘She’s really very useful.’
‘But what is so nice,’ saidjennifer, ‘is that she knows her place.’
‘Clever M ary Dove,’ said Lance, and took another piece of
chocolate cake.

32
 Chapter 11
‘So you’ve turned up again!’ said Miss R am sbottom .
Lance grinned at her. ‘J ust as you say, A unt Effie.’
Miss R am sbottom looked disapproving. ‘Have you got your
wife w ith you?’
‘N o. I left Pat in London.’
‘T hat shows some sense. You never know w hat m ight happen
here.’
‘To Pat?’
‘To anybody,’ said Miss Ram sbottom .
Lance Fortescue looked at her thoughtfully. ‘W hat’s been
going on here? W hat gives the police the idea that Father was
killed in this house?’
‘A dultery is one thing and m urder is another,’ said Miss
R am sbottom . ‘I would hate to think that she could kill someone.’
Lance looked alert. ‘A dele?’
T m not saying anything else,’ said Miss Ram sbottom , ‘but I’ll
tell you one thing. I believe that girl knows something about it.’
‘W hich girl?’
‘The one that never looks completely clean,’ said Miss
R am sbottom . ‘The one that should have brought up my tea
this afternoon, but didn’t. She’s gone out w ithout perm ission,
so Ellen told me. I w ouldn’t be surprised if she has gone to the
police. W ho let you in?’
‘Someone called M ary Dove. Is she the one w ho’s gone to
the police?’
‘M ary Dove wouldn’t go to the police,’ said Miss Ram sbottom .
‘N o — I m ean that silly little parlourmaid. She’s been looking
frightened all day. “W hat’s the m atter w ith you?” I said to her.

33
 Agatha Christie

“Have you got a guilty conscience?” She said, “I never did

anything - 1 w ouldn’t do a thing like that.” Then she began to cry
and said she didn’t want to get anybody into trouble, she was sure
it must all be a mistake. I said to her, “Now, my girl, you go to
the police and tell them anything you know, because bad things
happen when you hide the truth.” Then she said she couldn’t go to
the police and said that anyway she didn’t know anything at all.’
‘You don’t think that she was just m aking herself im portant? ’
‘N o, I don’t. She was scared. I think she saw som ething or
heard som ething that’s given her some idea about the whole
thing. It may be im portant, or it may not.’
‘The whole thing seems so strange. Like a detective story,’
Lance said.
‘Percival’s wife used to be a hospital nurse,’ said Miss
R am sbottom . ‘Hospital nurses are used to handling drugs.’
Lance looked doubtful.
‘Family affection is one thing,’ said Miss Ram sbottom ,
‘and I hope I’ve got as much of it as anyone. But I w on’t have
wickedness. W ickedness has to be destroyed.’
★★★
‘Gladys w ent out w ithout a w ord to m e,’ said M rs Crum p to
M ary Dove. ‘T he master’s dead, M r Lance is com ing home, and
I said to Crum p, “Day off or no day off, I know my duty. T here’s
not going to be cold supper tonight as is usual on a Thursday,
but a proper dinner.” You know me, Miss, you know I like to
do good w ork.’
M ary Dove nodded her head gently as M rs C rum p continued.
‘A nd what did C rum p say? “It’s my day off and I’m going out,”
that’s what he said. So out he w ent and I told Gladys she’d have
to manage alone tonight. She just said, “All right, M rs Crum p,”
then she w ent out, w ithout telling anyone.’

34
 A Pocket Full of Rye

‘W e shall manage, Mrs C rum p,’ M ary’s voice was com forting.
‘I shall serve at table if Gladys doesn’t come back in tim e.’
‘She w on’t come back,’ said M rs C rum p. ‘She’s got a young
man, Miss, though you w ouldn’t think any man would be
attracted to her w ith all those spots on her face! Albert his nam e
is. T hey’re going to get m arried next spring, so she tells m e.’ She
sighed. ‘W hat about tea things, Miss. W ho’s going to clear them
away and wash them up?’
‘I’ll do that,’ said Mary.
T he lights had not been turned on in the library, though
Adele Fortescue was still sitting on the sofa behind the tea tray.
‘Shall I switch the lights on, M rs Fortescue?’ M ary asked.
Adele did not answer. M ary switched on the lights and it
was only w hen she turned her head, that she saw the half-eaten
scone spread w ith honey beside Adele, and her teacup still half
full. D eath had come to Adele Fortescue suddenly.
★★★
‘W ell?’ dem anded Inspector Neele.
The doctor said, ‘Cyanide —potassium cyanide probably —in
the tea.’
Neele was angry. Poisoned! W hile he was in the house.
Elaine had been the last to leave the library. According to her,
Adele had been pouring herself a last cup of tea. And after that,
it was tw enty m inutes until M ary Dove came into the room and
discovered the body. Inspector Neele swore to him self and w ent
out into the kitchen where M rs C rum p hardly moved as he came
in. ‘W here’s that girl? Has she come back yet? ’
‘Gladys? N o.’
‘She m ade the tea, you say, and took it in.’
‘Inspector Neele, I don’t believe Gladys would do a thing like
that —not Gladys. She’s a bit silly, that’s all - not wicked.’

35
 Agatha Christie

No, Neele did not think that Gladys was wicked. And the
cyanide had not been in the teapot. ‘B ut w hat made her go out
suddenly —it wasn’t her day off, you say.’
‘N o, Sir, tom orrow ’s her day off. But she had her best nylons
on,’ said M rs Crum p. ‘So she was going to do som ething
that wasn’t connected w ith her work. O h yes, she was up to
som ething. I’ll give her a good telling-off w hen she comes back.’
W hen she comes back — Neele felt uneasy suddenly and
couldn’t think why. He w ent upstairs to Adele Fortescue’s sitting
room. H e had searched it carefully the day before and found the
secret drawer in the desk. N ow he m ade a small exclamation. O n
the centre o f the carpet was a small piece o f m ud. Neele went
over and picked it up. It was still damp. He looked round —there
were no footprints —only this one bit of mud.
★★★
Inspector Neele looked round the bedroom that belonged to
Gladys M artin. It was past eleven o’clock but there was still no
sign of Gladys. Ellen, the housemaid, whose help he had wanted,
had not been helpful. She didn’t know w hat clothes Gladys
owned, so she couldn’t say what, if anything, was missing. He
turned to the drawers where Gladys kept her treasures. There
were postcards and bits cut out o f newspapers w ith hints on
beauty, dressmaking and fashion advice.
Inspector Neele sorted them into groups. T he postcards
were m ainly o f views of places w here he guessed Gladys had
spent her holidays, but there were three from som eone nam ed
‘A lbert.’ T he first postcard said - in uneducated handw riting:
A ll the best. Missing you a lot. Yours ever, Albert.

36
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

The second one said:

Lots o f nice-looking girls here, but not one that’s as lovely as you. Be
seeing you soon. D on’t forget our date. A n d remember after that — we’ll
be living happy ever after.

The third just said:

D on’t forget. I trust you. Love, B.

N ext, Neele looked through the pieces o f newspaper and

sorted them into three piles. There were the fashion and beauty
hints, there were items about cinema stars, and she had also been
interested in science. There were articles about secret weapons
and about truth drugs used by Russians to make people confess
to crimes. B ut there was nothing to give him a clue to her
disappearance. She had kept no diary. Neele left the room , and
as he w ent dow n the stairs he heard the noise o f running feet.
Then Sergeant H ay’s w orried face looked up at him from the
bottom o f the stairs.
‘Sir,’ he said urgently. ‘Sir! W e’ve found the parlourmaid!
The housemaid, Ellen, rem em bered that she hadn’t brought the
clothes in from the washing line. So she w ent out w ith a torch
and she almost fell over the girl’s body —strangled, she was, w ith
a stocking round her throat —she’s been dead for hours, I’d say.
And, Sir, it’s a wicked kind of joke —there was a clothes peg on her
nose . . .’

37
 Chapter 12
Two days later C rum p opened the door and saw a tall, elderly
lady wearing an old-fashioned tw eed coat and skirt, a couple of
scarves and a small hat w ith a bird’s w ing on it. A n old but good-
quality suitcase was by her feet. C rum p recognized a lady when
he saw one and said, ‘Yes, M adam ?’ in his most respectful voice.
‘I have come,’ Miss M arple said, ‘to speak about the poor girl
w ho was killed. Gladys M artin. C ould I see the mistress of the
house, please?’
‘O h, I see, M adam . W ell in that case . . .’ he looked towards
the library door from w hich a tall young w om an had just come
out. ‘This is Mrs Patricia Fortescue, M adam . I’m afraid M r
Percival’s wife and Miss Elaine are out.’
Patricia came forw ard and Miss M arple was aware o f a faint
feeling o f surprise. She had not expected to see someone like
Patricia Fortescue in this luxuriously decorated house.
‘It’s about Gladys, M adam ,’ said C rum p helpfully.
Pat said rather hesitantly, ‘W ill you come in here? We shall
be completely alone.’ She led the way into the library and Miss
M arple followed her.
‘M y husband and I only came back from Africa a few days
ago,’ said Pat, ‘and I only came to Yewtree Lodge yesterday, so I
don’t really know anything m uch about the household.’
Miss M arple looked at the girl and liked her. At the gymkhanas
held locally round her village, St M ary M ead, Miss M arple had
m et many Pats and knew them well. She felt comfortable w ith
this rather unhappy-looking girl.
‘It’s very simple, really,’ said Miss M arple. ‘I read in the paper,
you see, about Gladys M artin having been killed. A nd o f course
I know all about her. I trained her, in fact, to be a parlourmaid.

38
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

And since this terrible thing has happened to her, I felt —well,
I felt that I ought to come and see if there was anything I could
do about it.’
‘Yes,’ said Pat. ‘O f course. I see.’ A nd she did see at once just
why Miss M arple needed to do som ething for a girl she had
know n so well. ‘N obody seems to know very m uch about her,’
said Pat. ‘I m ean her relations and all that.’
‘N o,’ said Miss M arple, ‘she had no relations. She came to
me from the orphanage. St Faith’s, and I taught her how to wait
at table and look after the silverware. As soon as she got a little
experience, she took a job in a cafe.’
‘I never saw her,’ said Pat. ‘Was she a pretty girl?’
‘O h, no,’ said Miss M arple. ‘A nd she had bad skin. She was
rather stupid, too. She was very interested in men, poor girl. But
m en didn’t take m uch notice o f her and other girls made use o f
her —got her to do things for them and were then unkind to her.’
‘It sounds rather cruel.’ said Pat.
‘Yes, my dear,’ said Miss M arple, ‘life is cruel, I’m afraid.
Girls like Gladys enjoy going to the cinema and all that, but
they’re always dream ing of impossible things that can’t possibly
happen to them and they get disappointed. It was the clothes peg
that made me so very angry. It was such a cruel thing to d o ! It’s
very wicked, you know, to show such disrespect. Particularly if
you’ve already killed.’
Pat said slowly, ‘I believe I see w hat you mean. I think you
should come and see Inspector Neele. H e’s a very hum an person.’
She gave a sudden shiver. ‘The whole thing is such a horrible
nightm are. Pointless. Mad. W ithout rhyme or reason to it.’
‘I w ouldn’t say that, you know ,’ said Miss Marple. ‘N o, I
w ouldn’t say that.’
★★★

39
 Agatha Christie

Inspector Neele was looking extremely tired and worried.

Adele Fortescue, his m ain suspect, was now the second victim
in an unsolved m urder case. But strangely, Inspector Neele had
felt some satisfaction. The explanation that the wife and the lover
had been responsible for R ex Fortescue’s death had been too
easy. H e had always m istrusted it. A nd now that m istrust was
confirm ed. H e looked w ith interest at the gentle, serious face of
the old lady w ho sat w ith him now at Yewtree Lodge.
‘It’s very good o f you to come here, Miss M arple,’ he said.
‘It was my duty, Inspector Neele. The girl had lived in my
house. I feel responsible for her. She was a very silly girl, you know.’
Inspector Neele looked at her w ith respect. She had gone, he
felt, to the heart of the matter. ‘W hen you say that she was silly . . . ’
‘She was the sort o f girl who w ould give all her m oney to any
m an who told her she was beautiful and he needed it —if she had
any money. O f course, Gladys never did have any because she
always spent it on most unsuitable clothes.’
‘W hat about men? ’ asked the Inspector.
‘She wanted a young m an badly,’ said Miss M arple. ‘A nd I
understand she got herself one in the end? ’
Inspector Neele nodded. ‘Albert Evans. She m et him at some
holiday camp. He was an engineer w ho worked in mines abroad,
so she told the cook.’
‘That seems most unlikely,’ said Miss M arple, ‘but I am sure
that is what he told her. You don’t connect him w ith this business
at all?’
Inspector Neele shook his head. ‘No. H e never seems to have
visited her.’
‘W ell,’ said Miss M arple, ‘I’m pleased she had her
little romance. Since her life has been cut short in this way . . .
I w onder - could I help you in my very small way? This is a

40
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

wicked m urderer, Inspector Neele, and the wicked should not

go unpunished.’
‘T hat’s an unfashionable belief nowadays, Miss M arple,’
Inspector Neele said. ‘N ot that I don’t agree w ith you.’
‘T here is a hotel near the station,’ said Miss M arple, ‘and
I believe there’s a Miss R am sbottom in this house w ho is
interested in the w ork o f foreign m issions. As I am. You know ,
help for poor people in Africa and India and so on. I believe
we could have a good conversation about that — and other
things . . .’
Inspector Neele looked at Miss M arple w ith respect. ‘Yes, I
think that would be a great help. I can’t say that I’ve had great
success w ith the lady.’
‘It’s really very kind of you, Inspector Neele,’ said Miss
M arple. ‘I’m so happy you don’t think I’m just being a curious
old w om an.’
Inspector Neele gave a sudden unexpected smile. Miss
M arple seemed a very unlikely person to be helping him find
a m urderer. She continued speaking. ‘Newspapers,’ she said, ‘so
often m ake their reports more exciting than they really are.’ She
looked at Inspector Neele. ‘Can you tell me the simple facts?’
‘M r Fortescue died in his office,’ said Neele, ‘as a result of
taxine poisoning. Taxine comes from from the berries and leaves
of yew trees.’
‘A nd M rs Fortescue?’
‘A dele Fortescue had tea w ith the family in the library The
last person to leave the room was Miss Elaine Fortescue, her
stepdaughter. Twenty m inutes later, Miss Dove, w ho is the
housekeeper, w ent in to remove the tea tray. Adele was sitting
on the sofa, dead. Beside her was a tea cup a quarter full and in
it was potassium cyanide.’

41
 Agatha Christie

‘Such dangerous stuff,’ said Miss M arple quietly. ‘Gardeners

keep it to destroy insect nests, but I’m always very, very careful.’
‘You’re quite right,’ said Inspector Neele. ‘There was a packet
of it am ong the gardener’s things.’
‘Very convenient,’ said Miss M arple. She added, ‘Was Mrs
Fortescue eating anything? ’
‘O h, yes.’
‘Cake, I suppose? Bread and butter? Jam? H oney?’
‘There was honey and scones and chocolate cake.’ He looked
at her curiously. ‘T he potassium cyanide was in the tea, Miss
M arple.’
‘O h, yes, yes. I understand that. I was just getting the whole
picture. R ather significant, don’t you think?’
H e looked at her, slightly puzzled. H er eyes were bright.
‘A nd the third death, Inspector N eele?’
W ell, Gladys took in the tea tray, then she brought the next
tray into the hall, but left it there. After that no one saw her.
The cook, Mrs Crum p, thought that the girl had gone out for the
evening w ithout permission. She thought that because the girl was
wearing a good pair o f nylon stockings and her best shoes. She was
wrong. Gladys had obviously remembered suddenly that she had
not taken in some clothes that were drying outside. She ran out
to get them in and somebody put a stocking round her neck and —
well, that was that. The girl was nervous, when we first questioned
her, but I’m afraid we didn’t think that meant anything.’
‘O h, but how could you?’ cried Miss M arple. ‘People so often
do look guilty and uncom fortable w hen they are questioned by
the police.’
‘T hat’s just it. But I think Gladys had seen someone doing
som ething that she didn’t understand —and I think she asked that
person for an explanation.’

42
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

‘A nd so Gladys was strangled and a clothes peg put on her

nose,’ Miss M arple said quietly.
‘Yes, a nasty, unnecessary thing to do.’
Miss M arple shook her head. ‘H ardly unnecessary. It does all
make a pattern, doesn’t it? First we have R ex Fortescue —killed
in his office. And then we have M rs Fortescue, sitting having
tea. There were scones and honey. A nd then poor Gladys w ith
the clothes peg on her nose. That very sweet Patricia Fortescue
said that there seemed to be no rhym e or reason in it, but it’s the
rhyme that makes you think, isn’t it? ’
Inspector Neele said slowly, ‘I don’t think . . .’
Miss M arple continued quickly, ‘I expect you’re about thirty-
five or thirty-six, aren’t you, Inspector Neele? I think that when
you were a little boy, nursery rhymes were out of fashion. But
I was brought up on them - and so, to me, it is really highly
significant. W hat I wondered was . . .’ Miss M arple paused, then
appearing to take her courage in her hands, continued, ‘O f course
I know I am very old and perhaps m y idea is o f no value at all,
but w hat I m ean to say is, have you thought about blackbirds? ’

43
 Chapter 13
Inspector N eele’s first thought was that the old lady had gone
mad. ‘Blackbirds?’ he repeated.
Miss M arple nodded and said,
‘Sing a song o f sixpence, a pocketful o f rye,
Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.
W hen the pie was opened the birds began to sing.
Wasn’t that a dainty dish to set before the king?

The king was in his counting house, counting out his money,
The queen was in the parlour eating bread and honey,
The maid was in the garden hanging out the clothes,
W hen there came a little dickey bird and nipped o ff her nose.’

‘M y goodness,’ Inspector Neele said.

‘I mean, it does fit,’ said Miss M arple. ‘R ex Fortescue. R ex
means King. In his Counting House, in other words at his place o f
work, dealing w ith money. And M rs Fortescue, the Queen in the
parlour, eating bread and honey. And so, o f course, the m urderer had
to put that clothes peg on poor Gladys’s nose.’
‘You m ean the whole thing is crazy? ’
‘Well, it is certainly very strange. But you really must make
inquiries about blackbirds. Because there must be blackbirds!’
It was at this point that Sergeant Hay came into the room
saying urgently, ‘Sir.’ H e broke off at the sight o f Miss Marple.
Inspector Neele said,‘Thank you, Miss Marple. I’ll think about
what you’ve said. As you are interested in the girl, perhaps you
would like to look at the things from her room. Sergeant Hay will
show you them in a few minutes.’
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

Miss M arple nodded her head and w ent out.

‘Blackbirds!’ said Inspector Neele to himself. ‘Yes, Hay, w hat
is it?’
‘Sir,’ said Sergeant Hay. ‘Look at this.’ He showed him an object
wrapped in a handkerchief. ‘I found it in the bushes,’ said Sergeant
Hay. ‘It could have been thrown there from one o f the back
windows.’
It was a nearly full pot o f marmalade.
In his mind, the Inspector saw a new pot of marmalade; he saw
hands carefully removing its cover; he saw a small amount of marmalade
being removed, mixed with a preparation of taxine and replaced in the
pot, the top smoothed over and the lid carefully replaced.
‘A nd,’ said Sergeant Hay, ‘M r Fortescue was the only one that
had m arm alade for breakfast. T he others had jam or honey.’
Neele nodded. ‘T hat made it very simple, didn’t it?’ In his
m ind he saw the breakfast table now. R ex Fortescue stretching
out his hand for the marm alade pot, taking out a spoonful and
puting it on his toast. A nd afterwards? T he pot o f m armalade
being replaced by another w ith exactly the same am ount
taken from it. A nd then an open window. A hand and an arm
throw ing that pot out into the bushes. The only thing he couldn’t
see was whose hand and arm it was.
Inspector Neele said in a businesslike voice, ‘Well, w e’ll have
to get this analysed. H ow do they order m armalade and where
is it kept?’
‘M arm alade comes in six pots at a time. A new pot would be
taken into the pantry w hen the old one was nearly empty.’
‘T hat means,’ said Neele, ‘that the taxine could have been put
into the m arm alade several days before it was actually put onto
the breakfast table. A nd anyone w ho was in the house, or who
could have got into the house, could have done it.’

45
 Agatha Christie

Inspector N eele w ent to look for M ary Dove. She asked, ‘Did
you want to see me about something? ’
Neele said pleasantly, ‘It’s becom ing im portant to get exact
times clear. M em bers o f the family all seem a little unsure about
times. You, Miss Dove, have been extrem ely accurate. Now, the
last tim e you saw Gladys M artin was in the hall before tea, and
that was at tw enty m inutes to five?’
‘Yes.’
‘W here were you com ing from ?’
‘From upstairs —I had heard the telephone.’
‘Gladys had answered the telephone?’
‘Yes. It was a w rong num ber,’ said Miss Dove.
‘A nd that was the last tim e you saw her?’
‘She brought the tea tray into the library about ten m inutes
later.’ .
‘A fter that Miss Elaine Fortescue came in? ’
‘Yes, about three m inutes later. T hen I w ent up to tell Mrs
Jennifer tea was ready.’
‘Did you usually do that?’ Neele asked.
‘N o — people came in to tea w hen they pleased — but Mrs
Adele Fortescue asked where everybody was. I thought I heard
Mrs Jennifer com ing —but that was a mistake . . .’
Neele interrupted. ‘You m ean you heard someone upstairs
m oving about?’
‘Yes —but no one came down, so I w ent up. M rs Jennifer was
in her bedroom . She had been out for a walk.’
‘The tim e was then . . . ?’ asked Neele
‘O h —nearly five o’clock.’
‘And M r Lance Fortescue arrived —when? ’
‘A few m inutes after I came downstairs - I thought he had
arrived earlier —but . . .’

46
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

Inspector Neele interrupted, ‘W hy did you think he had

arrived earlier?’
‘Because I thought I had seen him through the window. I
caught a glimpse o f someone through the yew bushes — and I
thought it would be him .’
‘This was when you were com ing dow n after telling Mrs
Jennifer Fortescue tea was ready?’
M ary corrected him , ‘N o, w hen I came dow n the first tim e.’
Inspector Neele kept his inner excitem ent out o f his voice
as he said, ‘It couldn’t have been Lance Fortescue. His train
arrived at Baydon H eath at 4.37. He had to wait for a taxi. It
was actually nearly a quarter to five (five m inutes after you had
seen the m an in the garden) w hen he left the station and it is a
ten-m inute drive. H e paid the taxi at the gate here at about five
m inutes to five at the earliest.’
‘I’m sure I did see someone.’
‘H e was going - w hich way?’
‘Along behind the yew bushes towards the east side o f the
house.’
‘There is a side door there. Is it kept locked?’
‘N ot until the house is locked up for the night.’
‘Anyone could have come in by that side door w ithout being
seen by any o f the household? ’
‘Yes.’ She added quickly, ‘You m ean —the person I heard later
upstairs could have come in that way? C ould have been hiding —
upstairs? But w ho . . . ?’
‘T hat we have to find out. T hank you, Miss Dove.’
As she turned to go, Inspector Neele said in a casual voice,
‘By the way, you can’t tell me anything about blackbirds, can you?’
For the first tim e M ary Dove looked surprised. ‘You m ean
that silly business last summer? It must, I think, have been some

47
 Agatha Christie

nasty joke. Four dead blackbirds were on M r Fortescue’s desk in

his study here, and then m ore were found in a pie.’
‘A ny sort o f reason behind it — any connection w ith
blackbirds?’
M ary shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Was M r Fortescue annoyed?’
‘O f course.’
‘But he was not upset in any way?’
‘I really can’t rem em ber.’
‘I see,’ said Inspector Neele.
M ary Dove once m ore turned away, but this tim e, he thought,
she w ent slowly, as if she would like to know m ore o f what
was in his m ind. Well, Miss M arple had suggested that there
would be blackbirds and, sure enough, there the blackbirds were!
Inspector Neele was not going to let this blackbird business take
his attention away from the logical investigation o f m urder by
a sane m urderer for a sane reason. But o f course he w ould still
consider the crazier possibilities o f the case.

48
 Chapter 14
W hat M ary Dove had said about hearing someone m oving about
upstairs explained the small piece o f m ud Neele had found on
the floor o f the sitting room. H e thought o f the pretty desk in
that room w ith its obvious ‘secret’ drawer.
H e had found three letters in that drawer, written by Vivian
Dubois to Adele Fortescue. Neele had sent them up at once to the
Yard because at that time it looked as if R ex Fortescue had been
poisoned by his wife, with or w ithout her lover’s help. But there had
been nothing in any of the letters to suggest that a crime was being
planned. Inspector Neele believed that Dubois had asked Adele to
destroy his letters and that she had told him she had done so.
Well, now they had two more deaths to investigate. That should
mean that Adele Fortescue had not killed her husband. Unless Adele
Fortescue had wanted to marry Vivian Dubois andVivian Dubois had
wanted, not Adele, but the hundred thousand pounds which would
come to her on the death of her husband. He had believed, perhaps,
that R ex Fortescue’s death would be blamed on natural causes.
W hat if Adele Fortescue and Vivian Dubois had been guilty?
Adele m ight have rung up Dubois, talking loudly and he had
realized that someone in Yewtree Lodge m ight have overheard
her. W hat w ould Vivian Dubois have done next?
Inspector Neele decided to make inquiries at the G olf Hotel to
find out if Dubois had been in or out of the hotel between the hours
of quarter past four and six o’clock. Vivian Dubois was tall and dark
like Lance Fortescue. He might have gone through the garden to
the side door, gone upstairs and then what? Looked for the letters
and found them missing? O r maybe waited until tea was over and
then gone down to the library when Adele Fortescue was alone?
But all this was going too fast; he must see what Jennifer
Fortescue had to say.

49
 Chapter 15
Jennifer Fortescue was in her ow n sitting room upstairs, w riting
letters.
‘I’m afraid,’ Neele said comfortingly, ‘we have to ask
people questions again and again, and so m uch depends on the
exact timing o f events. You came dow n to tea late, I understand?
In fact, Miss Dove came up to get you.’
‘Yes, she did. I had no idea it was so late. I had been w riting
letters.’
‘I see,’ he said. ‘I thought you had been out for a walk.’
‘Did she say so? Yes — I believe you’re right. I felt I needed
some fresh air and I w ent out and — er —w ent for a walk. Only
round the garden.’
‘I see. You didn’t m eet anyone?’
‘M eet anyone? I saw the gardener in the distance, that’s all.’
She was looking at him suspiciously.
‘Then you came in, and you were just taking your coat off
when Miss Dove came to tell you that tea was ready? ’
‘Yes. Yes, and so I came down. We had tea. T hen Lance went
up to see A unt Effie and I came up to finish my letters. I left
Elaine w ith Adele.’
Neele nodded. ‘Yes. Miss Elaine seems to have been w ith
M rs Adele Fortescue for five or ten m inutes after you left. Your
husband hadn’t come hom e yet? ’
‘O h no. Percival didn’t get hom e until about half-past six or
seven.’
‘I see,’ said Inspector Neele. ‘I asked your husband if Mrs
Fortescue had m ade a w ill before she died. H e said he thought
not. I suppose you don’t happen to have any idea? ’
‘O h, yes,’ she said, to his surprise. ‘Adele m ade a w ill about a
m onth ago. I saw her com ing out of the solicitor’s office, Ansell

SO
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

and Worrall’s, in the H igh Street. A nd I said to her, “W hatever

have you been doing there?” A nd she laughed and said, “I’ve
been m aking my will. Everyone ought to make a w ill.” She
hadn’t w anted to go to the family solicitor in London, M r
Billingsley. “N o,” she said, “my w ill’s m y ow n business, Jennifer,
and nobody’s going to know about it.” “W ell,” I said, “I w on’t
tell anybody” And I didn’t tell anyone, not even Percival.’
‘W ell, thank you very much, M rs Fortescue, for being so
helpful to m e,’ said Inspector Neele. ‘T here’s one other thing,
M rs Fortescue. D o you know anything about blackbirds?’
Jennifer Fortescue looked shocked. ‘Blackbirds, Inspector?
W hat kind o f blackbirds?’
‘J ust blackbirds. Alive or dead or even, shall we say, in a
nursery rhym e?’
She said slowly, ‘I suppose you m ean the ones last sum m er in
the pie. All very silly.’
‘There were some left on the library table, too, w eren’t there?’
‘It was all a very silly joke. M r Fortescue, my father-in-law,
was very m uch annoyed by it. H e asked us if there were any
strangers about the place.’
‘Strangers? D id he seem afraid in any way?’
‘Yes. Yes, he did.’
★★★
Percival Fortescue was in London, but Inspector Neele found
his brother Lance sitting w ith his wife Pat in the library.
‘D o you know anything about blackbirds, M r Fortescue?’
‘Blackbirds?’ Lance looked amused. ‘D o you m ean real birds?’
Inspector Neele said with a sudden, sweet smile, ‘I’m not sure what
I mean, M r Fortescue. It’s just that blackbirds have been mentioned.’
‘G ood Lord. N ot the old Blackbird M ine, I suppose?’
‘T he Blackbird M ine? W hat was that?’

51
 Agatha Christie

Lance frow ned. ‘I just have an idea about some unpleasant

business in my papa’s past, on the west coast o f Africa. A unt Effie
once m entioned it w hen she was having an argum ent w ith him ,
but I can’t rem em ber m uch about it.’
‘I’ll go and ask her about it,’ said Inspector Neele, adding,
‘She’s rather a frightening old lady.’
Lance laughed. ‘Yes. But she may be helpful to you, Inspector.
I w ent up to see her, you know, soon after I got back here. And
she was talking about Gladys, the maid w ho got killed. N ot that
we knew she was dead then, o f course. But A unt Effie was saying
she was quite sure that Gladys knew som ething that she hadn’t
told the police.’
‘T hat seems fairly certain,’ said Inspector Neele. ‘She’ll never
tell it now, poor girl.’
To his surprise, w hen he w ent up to see Miss Ram sbottom ,
he found Miss M arple w ith her, discussing foreign missions.
‘I’ll go away, Inspector.’ Miss M arple rose to her feet.
‘N o need, M adam ,’ said Inspector Neele.
‘I’ve asked Miss M arple to come and stay,’ said Miss
Ram sbottom . ‘There is no sense in her spending her m oney in
that G olf Hotel. It’s a wicked place. D rinking and card playing
all the evening. She had better come and stay in a respectable
household. T here’s a room next door to m ine.’
‘It’s very kind o f you,’ said Miss M arple gratefully. ‘I’ll go and
cancel my booking.’ She left the room and Miss R am sbottom
said sharply to the Inspector, ‘Well, and what do you want? ’
‘I wondered if you could tell me anything about the Blackbird
M ine, M adam .’
Miss R am sbottom gave a shout o f laughter. ‘Ha. You’ve got
on to that, have you! W ell, what do you w ant to know about it?’
‘A nything you can tell me, M adam .’

52
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

‘I can’t tell you much. It’s a long time ago now —oh, twenty to
twenty-five years maybe, in East Africa. M y brother-in-law went
into business with a man called MacKenzie. They went out there
to investigate the mine together and MacKenzie died of fever. R ex
came home and said there was no gold in the mine. That’s all I know.’
‘I think you know a little m ore than that, M adam ,’ said Neele.
‘W ell, the MacKenzies insisted that R ex had cheated
M acKenzie and he probably had, but they couldn’t prove anything.
M rs M acKenzie came here and said R ex had m urdered her
husband. I think she was a bit mad —in fact, I believe she went
into a hospital for the insane not long after. She came here w ith
a couple o f young children who looked scared to death. She said
she w ould bring up her children to get revenge. Madness, all o f
it. W ell, that’s all I can tell you. A nd the Blackbird M ine wasn’t
the only bad thing that R ex did in his lifetime. You’ll find a
good m any m ore if you look for them .’
‘You don’t know what happened to the MacKenzie family,
M adam? ’
‘N o idea,’ said Miss Ram sbottom . ‘A nd I don’t think R ex
w ould have actually m urdered M acKenzie, but he m ight have
left him to die. If he did, then he’s been paid back. You should
go away now, I can’t tell you any m ore.’
‘T hank you very m uch for w hat you have told me,’ said
Inspector Neele.
‘Send that M arple w om an back,’ Miss R am sbottom called
after him . ‘She knows how to organize things properly.’
Inspector Neele made a couple of telephone calls, the first
to Adele Fortescue’s lawyers, Ansell and Worrall and the second
to the G olf Hotel, then he told Sergeant Hay, ‘I have to visit a
solicitor’s office —after that, you can find me at the G olf Hotel if
anything urgent happens.’

53
 Chapter 16
M r Ansell was anxious to help the police in every way
possible. Yes, he said, he had m ade a w ill for the late M rs Adele
Fortescue. H e had not done any legal business before that for
M rs Fortescue or for any o f the Fortescue family. ‘N aturally,’
said M r Ansell, ‘she didn’t w ant to go to her husband’s firm o f
lawyers.’
The facts were simple. Adele Fortescue had made a w ill
leaving everything she possessed to Vivian Dubois.
‘But I understood,’ said M r Ansell, ‘that she didn’t actually
have much to leave.’
Inspector Neele nodded. At the tim e Adele Fortescue made
her w ill that was true. But since then R ex Fortescue had died,
and Adele Fortescue had inherited £100,000 and that now
belonged to Vivian Edward Dubois.
★★★
At the G olf Hotel, Inspector Neele found Vivian Dubois
nervously w aiting for him .
‘I do hope you realize, Inspector Neele, that it is very
inconvenient for me to have to stay on. I really have im portant
business.’
‘I didn’t know you were in business, M r Dubois,’ said
Inspector Neele in a friendly way. ‘M rs Fortescue’s death must
have been a terrible shock to you. You were great friends, were
you not?’
‘Yes, the whole thing is terrible.’
‘You actually telephoned her, I believe, on the afternoon of
her death? A bout four o’clock. D o you rem em ber what your
conversation was about, M r Dubois?’

54
 A Pocket Full of Rye

‘I think I asked her how she was feeling and if there was any
further news about her husband’s death —a more or less ordinary
inquiry.’
‘I see,’ said Inspector Neele. ‘A nd then you w ent out for a
walk? ’
‘Er - not a walk, I went and played golf.’
‘I think not, M r Dubois. T he doorm an here saw you w alking
dow n the road towards Yewtree Lodge.’
Dubois’s eyes m et his, then moved away again nervously. ‘I’m
afraid I can’t remember, Inspector.’
‘Perhaps you actually w ent to visit M rs Fortescue?’
Dubois said sharply, ‘No. N o. I never w ent near the house.’
‘W here did you go, then?’
‘O h, I . . . dow n the road as far as the pub. The Three Pigeons,
and then I turned around and came back by the golf course.’
T he Inspector shook his head. ‘You know, M r Dubois,’ he
said pleasantly, ‘I think w e’ll have to ask you for a statement and
perhaps you should have a solicitor present.’
T he colour left Dubois’ face. ‘You’re threatening me! I had
nothing to do w ith it at all, I tell you! N othing!’
‘C om e now, M r Dubois, you were at Yewtree Lodge about
half-past four on that day. Somebody saw you. D idn’t you go
in by the side door and up the stairs to M rs Fortescue’s sitting
room? You were looking for som ething in the desk there?’
‘You’ve got the letters, I suppose,’ said Dubois. ‘But they don’t
m ean w hat you think they m ean.’
‘You’re not denying are you, that you were a very close friend
of M rs Fortescue’s?’
‘N o — but don’t think that we — that she — ever thought o f
killing R ex Fortescue. I’m not that kind o f m an!’
‘But perhaps she was that kind o f w om an?’

55
 Agatha Christie

‘Nonsense! W asn’t she killed, too? So didn’t the same person

w ho killed her husband kill her?’
‘Possibly. But it’s also possible that M rs Fortescue m urdered
her husband, and that after his death she became a danger to
someone else. Som eone who had, perhaps, not helped her w ith
what she had done but w ho had at least encouraged her and
provided the motive. She m ight be a danger to that person.’
Dubois said nervously, ‘You can’t build up a case against me.
You can’t.’
‘She left all her m oney to you.’
‘I don’t w ant the m oney!’
‘O f course, it isn’t very m uch,’ said Inspector Neele.
‘But I thought her husband . . .’ H e stopped dead.
‘Did you, M r Dubois?’ said Inspector Neele, and there was
no friendliness now in his voice. ‘T hat’s very interesting. I
wondered if you knew exactly what R ex Fortescue’s w ill said.’
★★★
Inspector N eele’s second interview at the hotel was w ith M r
Gerald W right, a very superior young m an, not unlike Vivian
Dubois in appearance.
‘W hat can I do for you, Inspector N eele?’ he asked.
‘I thought you m ight be able to help us w ith a little
inform ation, M r W right, in connection w ith the recent events
at Yewtree Lodge.’
‘I know nothing. I was actually in the Isle of M an when M r
R ex Fortescue was killed.’
‘You arrived here very shortly afterwards, M r W right. You
had a telegram, I believe, from Miss Elaine Fortescue. And you
are, I understand, to be m arried?’
‘Q uite right, Inspector Neele.’

56
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

‘I understand that M r Fortescue refused to give his permission

and told you that if his daughter m arried against his wishes, he
w ould not give her any m oney to live on. You then broke off the
engagem ent.’
Gerald W right smiled. ‘N ot exactly true, Inspector Neele.
Actually, R ex Fortescue was a capitalist and my political beliefs
w ould not let me live off his money.’
‘But you have no objection to m arrying a w om an w ho has
just inherited £50,0 00 ?’
Gerald W right gave a satisfied smile. ‘N ot at all, Inspector
Neele. T he m oney w ill be used to help other people.’
‘M r W right, M rs Adele Fortescue died as a result o f cyanide
poisoning on the afternoon o f N ovem ber 5th. As you were
in the neighbourhood ofYew tree Lodge on that afternoon, I
thought you m ight have seen or heard som ething that m ight
help our investigations.’
‘A nd why do you believe that I was in the neighbourhood of
Yewtree Lodge?’
‘You left this hotel at a quarter-past four. After you left the
hotel you walked dow n the road towards Yewtree Lodge. It
seems natural to believe that you were going there.’
‘I already had an arrangem ent to m eet Elaine at the
hotel at six. I w ent for a w alk and returned to the hotel just
before six o’clock. Elaine, quite naturally, did not keep her
appointm ent.’
‘D id anybody see you on this walk, M r W right?’
‘N o one I knew.’
‘So I’ve only got your w ord that you were where you say you
w ere?’
Gerald W right continued to smile in a superior way, ‘Very sad
for us both, Inspector, but there it is.’

57
 Agatha Christie

Inspector N eele said softly, ‘T hen if someone said they looked

out o f a w indow and saw you in the garden o f Yewtree Lodge
at about four thirty-five . . He paused and left the sentence
unfinished.
Gerald W right shook his head. ‘It was getting dark by then. I
think it would be difficult for anyone to be sure.’
‘Do you know M r Vivian Dubois, w ho is also staying here?’
‘Dubois? Is that the tall, dark m an w ho wears very brightly
coloured ties?’
‘Yes. H e also was out for a walk that afternoon. You did not
notice him in the road by any chance?’
‘No. No. I can’t say I did.’ Gerald W right looked for the first
tim e slightly worried.
Inspector Neele said thoughtfully, ‘It wasn’t really a very nice
afternoon for walking, especially after dark. It’s strange how full
o f energy everyone seems to have felt.’

58
 Chapter 1 7
‘So you’re Lance’s wife,’ Miss R am sbottom said. ‘You’re a tall
girl and you look healthy. W here did you m eet my nephew? ’
‘In Kenya, w hen I was staying w ith some friends,’ Pat replied.
‘You’ve been m arried before, I understand.’
‘Yes. Twice. M y first husband was a fighter pilot. H e was
killed in the war.’
‘A nd your second husband shot himself. Was it your fault?’
‘N o,’ said Pat. ‘It wasn’t my fault.’
‘H e was a horse-racing m an, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve never been to a horse race in my life,’ said Miss
R am sbottom . ‘Gam bling and card playing —all evil! Ah, well,
it’s a wicked world nowadays. A lot o f wickedness was going
on in this house, but they got w hat they deserved. I’ll tell you
this. M y sister Elvira was a fool, my brother-in-law R ex was a
horrible m an, Percival is nasty, and your Lance was always the
bad boy o f the family. D on’t trust Percival. I’ve never liked him .
M ind you, I don’t trust Lance, but I can’t help being fond o f him .
H e’s a reckless sort o f boy —always has been. You’ve got to look
after him and see he doesn’t go too far. Tell him not to believe
everything that Percival says. T hey’re all liars in this house.’
★★★
T he triple tragedy at Yewtree Lodge had shocked the Fortescues’
lawyer, M r Billingsley. He was only too anxious to help the police.
‘It’s a most extraordinary business. I’ll tell you whatever I can.’
‘First let me ask you how well you knew M r R ex Fortescue,
and how well you know the affairs o f his firm .’
‘I’ve know n R ex Fortescue for sixteen years —although we
are not the only firm o f solicitors he employed.’

59
 Agatha Christie

Inspector Neele nodded. Billingsley, Horsethorpe & Walters were

respectable solicitors. For his less honest business, R ex Fortescue
had employed less honest firms.
‘N ow w hat do you w ant to know? ’
‘I’m interested in the w ill o f his widow. O n M r Fortescue’s
death she inherited the sum o f one hundred thousand pounds, I
understand? ’
Billingsley nodded. ‘A large am ount o f money. And one the
firm would have found difficult to pay out.’
‘The firm is not doing well?’
‘Well, Consolidated Investments Trust was doing very well,
buying and selling stocks and shares wisely. But for the last year
R ex Fortescue had been acting like a m adm an. Selling good
stock here, buying very questionable projects there. Really, he
seemed to have been a changed m an.’
‘But not, I understand, a depressed m an,’ said Inspector Neele.
‘N o, no. The opposite. H e had becom e very overexcited and
convinced only he knew how to run the firm .’
Inspector Neele nodded. An idea was form ing in his mind.
M r Billingsley was continuing, ‘But it’s no good asking me
about the w ife’s will. I didn’t make any w ill for her.’
‘I know that,’ said Neele. ‘I’m simply checking that she had
a hundred thousand pounds from R ex Fortescue’s w ill to leave.’
M r Billingsley was shaking his head. ‘N o, no, my dear Sir.
She did not inherit the hundred thousand pounds unless she
lived for one m onth after his death.’
Inspector Neele was staring at him . ‘T hen w hat happens to
that money? ’
‘It goes to M r Percival Fortescue. A nd w ith the firm in a poor
condition, I w ould say that he’ll need it!’

60
 Chapter 18
In the drawing room at Yewtree Lodge, the whole Fortescue
family was together.
‘I think we m ight discuss future plans,’ said Percival. ‘I
suppose you’ll be off again back to Kenya — or Canada — or
climbing M ount Everest or som ething fairly exciting, Lance?’
‘N ow what makes you think that?’ Lance smiled. ‘I’m coming
into the firm w ith you. I have got the share in it that Father gave
me years ago and that gives me the right to be involved, doesn’t it?’
Percival frowned. ‘Things are in a very bad way, you know.
W e’ll only just be able to pay Elaine her share, if she insists on
having it. So are you serious, Lance? ’
‘Com pletely serious.’
‘It w on’t work! You’ll soon get bored,’ Percival said.
‘W hy are you so angry, dear brother? D on’t you look forward
to having me sharing your problem s?’
‘You haven’t the slightest idea o f the mess everything’s in,’
replied Percival. ‘For the last six m onths —no, a year, Father was
not himself. H e sold good stock and bought some very strange
investments.’
‘In fact,’ said Lance, ‘it’s just as well for the family that he had
taxine in his tea.’
‘T hat’s a very ugly way o f putting it, but it’s about the only
thing that saved us from bankruptcy. W e shall have to be very
careful for a w hile.’
Lance shook his head. ‘I don’t agree w ith you. We must take
a few risks, go for som ething big.’
Percival walked up and dow n angrily. ‘It’s no good, Lance.
O u r ways o f doing business are totally different. The only
sensible thing is to end the partnership.’

61
 Agatha Christie

‘You’re going to buy me out —is that the idea?’

‘Well, I didn’t m ean in cash,’ said Percival. ‘W e could - er —
divide everything up.’
‘W ith you keeping the best bits and me getting the mad
investments Father bought recently, I suppose?’
‘They seem to be w hat you prefer,’ said Percival.
Lance grinned. ‘You’re right in a way, old boy. But I’ve got
Pat here to think of.’
Pat opened her m outh, then shut it again. W hatever game
Lance was playing, it was best that she did not becom e involved.
‘So w hat are you planning to give m e?’ said Lance, laughing.
‘D iam ond m ines that have no diam onds, the oil fields where
no oil has been found? D o you think I’m quite as big a fool as
I look?’
Percival said, ‘O f course, some o f these things that
Father bought have turned out to be worthless, but some of
them may turn out to be very valuable.’
Lance grinned. ‘Are you going to offer me the old Blackbird
M ine as well? By the way, has the Inspector been asking you
about this Blackbird M ine?’
Percival frowned. ‘Yes, he did. I couldn’t tell him much. You
and I were children at the time. I just rem em ber that Father w ent
out there and came back saying the whole thing was no good.’
‘W hat was it —a gold m ine?’
‘I believe so. Father came back certain that there was no gold
there.’
‘W ho involved him in it? A m an called M acKenzie, wasn’t
it? And MacKenzie died out there. I seem to rem em ber . . .
Mrs MacKenzie, wasn’t it? She came here and accused Father of
m urdering her husband.’
‘R eally?’ said Percival. ‘I can’t rem em ber anything like that.’

62
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

‘I do, though,’ said Lance. ‘W here was Blackbird? W est Africa

wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘I must find the paperw ork on it som etim e,’ said Lance, ‘when
I’m at the office.’
‘You can be quite sure,’ said Percival, ‘that if Father came
back saying there was no gold, there was no gold.’
‘You’re probably right there,’ said Lance. ‘Poor Mrs
MacKenzie. I w onder what happened to her and to those two
kids she brought along. Funny —they must be grow n up by now.’

63
 Chapter 19
At the Pinewood Private Sanatorium. Inspector Neele was facing a
grey-haired lady. Helen MacKenzie was sixty-three, though she
looked younger. She was holding a large book and was looking
down at it as Inspector Neele talked to her.
‘She’s a voluntary patient,’ D r Crosbie, the sanatorium ’s
director, had told him . ‘M ost o f the tim e she’s as sane as you or
me. It’s one o f her good days today, so you’ll be able to have a
completely norm al conversation w ith her.’
Inspector Neele said now, ‘It’s very kind of you to see me,
Madam. M y name is Neele. I’ve come to see you about a M r R ex
Fortescue, who has recently died. I expect you know the name.’
Mrs MacKenzie said, ‘I don’t know w hat you’re talking about.’
‘I think, Mrs MacKenzie, you knew him m any years ago.’
‘N ot really,’ said M rs MacKenzie. ‘It was yesterday.’
‘I see,’ said Inspector Neele. ‘I believe that you paid him a
visit m any years ago at Yewtree Lodge.’
‘A house decorated w ith money, but no taste,’ said Mrs
MacKenzie.
‘He had been connected w ith your husband, I believe, over a
certain m ine in Africa. The Blackbird M ine?’
‘It was my husband’s mine. He found it and wanted m oney to
get the gold out. He w ent to R ex Fortescue.’
‘And they w ent out together to Africa, and your husband died
of fever.’
‘I must read my book,’ said Mrs MacKenzie.
‘D o you think M r Fortescue cheated your husband over the
Blackbird M ine, M rs M acKenzie?’
W ithout raising her eyes from the book, Mrs MacKenzie
said, ‘H ow stupid you are.’

64
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

‘Yes, yes, perhaps . . . But you see, finding out about a thing
that was over a long tim e ago is rather difficult.’
‘W ho said it was over? N obody knows w here m y husband
died or how he died or where he was buried. All anyone knows
is w hat R ex Fortescue said. A nd R ex Fortescue was a liar! ’
‘Somebody put dead blackbirds on R ex Fortescue’s desk
about a m onth or tw o before he died. Have you any idea who
m ight have done that? ’
‘Ideas aren’t any help to anyone. There has to be action. I
brought them up to take action. D onald and Ruby. They were
nine and seven and left w ithout a father. I told them every day. I
made them promise every night.’
Inspector Neele leant forward. ‘W hat did you m ake them
prom ise?’
‘T hat they w ould kill him , o f course.’
Inspector Neele spoke as though it was the most reasonable
com m ent in the world. ‘D id they?’
‘D onald w ent to fight in France. T hey sent me a telegram
saying that he had been killed in action. Action, you see, the
w rong kind o f action.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that, M adam . W hat about your daughter?’
‘D o you know w hat I’ve done to Ruby? Look here at the
Book.’
H e saw then that w hat she was holding in her lap was a very
old family Bible in which the old-fashioned custom had been
continued o f entering each new birth. M rs MacKenzie pointed
to the tw o last names. Donald M acKenzie w ith the date of his
birth, and R uby M acKenzie w ith the date o f hers. But a thick line
was draw n through R uby M acKenzie’s name.
‘You see?’ said M rs MacKenzie. ‘I crossed her out o f the
Book. She doesn’t exist anym ore!’

65
 !
Agatha Christie

‘W hy, M adam ?’
Mrs M acKenzie looked at him slyly. ‘She didn’t do as I said.’
‘W here is your daughter now, M adam ?’
‘There isn’t such a person as R uby M acKenzie any longer.’
M rs M acKenzie refused to say m ore and Neele had another short
interview w ith D r Crosbie.
‘Do any of her relations come to see her?’ he asked.
‘I believe a daughter did come to see her before my tim e here,
but her visit upset the patient so m uch that they advised her not
to come again. Since then everything has been arranged through
solicitors.’
Inspector Neele had already been to see those solicitors. They
were unable, or said they were unable, to tell him anything. A
trust fund had been arranged for M rs M acKenzie, which they
managed.
‘So there we are, Sir,’ said Inspector Neele as he reported to
the Assistant Commissioner. ‘It’s crazy, but it all fits together.
It must m ean som ething.’
The Assistant Comm issioner nodded. ‘The blackbirds in the
pie and the Blackbird M ine, rye in the dead m an’s pocket, bread
and honey w ith Adele Fortescue’s tea, that girl strangled w ith a
stocking and a clothes peg put on her nose. Yes, crazy as it all is,
it certainly can’t be ignored.’
‘H alf a m inute, Sir,’ said Inspector Neele.
‘W hat is it? ’
Neele was frowning. ‘You know, w hat you’ve just said. It was
w rong somewhere.’ H e shook his head. ‘N o. I can’t see it.’

66
 Chapter 20
Lance and Pat walked around the grounds o f Yewtree Lodge.
‘T here’s som ething extremely frightening about a poisoner,’ said
Pat. ‘I m ean they must have a terrible m ind, filled w ith thoughts
o f revenge.’
‘Funny! I just think of it as businesslike and cold-blooded.’
‘To do three m urders. . . W hoever did it must be m ad,’ Pat said.
‘Yes,’ said Lance, in a low voice. ‘I’m afraid so. Please, Pat, go
back to London —it worries me to death to have you here.’
Pat said quietly, ‘You know w ho it is, don’t you?’
‘N o, I don’t.’
‘But you think you know . . . T hat’s why you’re frightened
for me. I wish you would tell me. But I’m staying here. Lance,
you’re my husband and my place is here w ith you.’ She added,
‘A lthough maybe you would be better w ithout me - because I
always bring bad luck to the m en I love.’
‘M y dearest, you haven’t brought bad luck to me. Look how
after I m arried you, Father sent for me to come home and m ake
friends w ith him .’
‘Yes, and w hat happened w hen you did come home? I tell
you, I’m unlucky to people.’
Lance took her by the shoulders and shook her. ‘You’re my
Pat and to be m arried to you is the greatest luck in the world. But
Pat, I just wish you’d go away from here.’
‘D arling,’ said Pat. ‘I’m not going.’
‘T hen w hen I’m not around, stay close to that old lady.
W h at’s-her-nam e? M arple. W hy do you think Aunt Effie asked
her to stay here?’
‘Goodness knows why A unt Effie does anything. Lance,
how long are we going to stay here? The house belongs to your

67
 Agatha Christie

brother now and he doesn’t really w ant us here, does he? Are we
going back to East Africa or w hat?’
‘Is that w hat you’d like to do, Pat?’ She nodded.
‘T hat’s lucky,’ said Lance, ‘because it’s w hat I’d like to do, too.’
Pat’s face brightened. ‘From w hat you said the other day, I
was afraid you m ight want to stay here.’
‘You m ustn’t say anything about our plans, Pat,’ Lance said. ‘I
want to w orry Percival a little longer.’
‘O h, Lance, do be careful.’
‘I’ll be careful, my sweet, but I don’t see w hy he should always
get w hat he w ants!’
★★★
W ith her head a little on one side, Miss M arple sat in the
large draw ing-room listening to Jennifer Fortescue. Jennifer had
a lot of complaints and the relief o f telling them to a stranger
was huge.
‘O f course I never want to com plain,’ said Jennifer. ‘W hat
I always say is that I must put up w ith things and I’m sure I’ve
never said a w ord to anyone, but in some ways I feel very lonely
here. Fortunately our new house is almost ready to move into.
M y husband, of course, has been quite satisfied living here. But
then it’s different for a man. D on’t you agree?’
Miss M arple agreed, and it was w hat she really believed. M en
needed tw o eggs plus bacon for breakfast, three good meals a
day and were never to be argued w ith before dinner. Jennifer
continued. ‘M y husband, you see, is away all day in the city. But
I am alone here w ith no pleasant com pany at all. The people
round here are really not my kind. T hey’re all very rich dow n
here. They play cards for money, and there’s a great deal of
drinking. A nd I don’t want to say anything against the dead, but
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

my m other-in-law was absolutely m an-m ad. And the way she

spent money! It troubled Percival very much, very much indeed.
And then w hat w ith M r Fortescue being so terribly angry some
days and spending huge am ounts o f money. W ell - it wasn’t at
all nice.’
‘T hat m ust have w orried your husband, too?’ asked Miss
M arple.
‘O h, yes, it did. For the last year he’s been very w orried
indeed. He changed, even towards me. T hen Elaine, my sister-
in-law, she’s a very strange sort of girl. She never wants to go to
London and shop, or go to a play. She isn’t even interested in
clothes.’Jennifer sighed. ‘You must think it most strange, talking
to you like this w hen we really don’t know one another . . .’
‘N ot at all strange, my dear, I know just how you feel,’
said Miss M arple. And this again was true. Jennifer’s husband
was obviously bored by her and the poor w om an hadn’t made
any local friends. ‘I hope it’s not rude o f me to say so,’ said
Miss M arple in a gentle old lady’s voice, ‘but I really feel that M r
R ex Fortescue cannot have been a very nice m an.’
‘He wasn’t,’ said his daughter-in-law. ‘H e was a horrible old
man. It’s not surprising that someone m urdered him .’
‘You’ve no idea at all w ho . . .’ began Miss M arple and broke
off. ‘O h dear, perhaps this is a question I should not ask - not
even an idea w ho —who —well, w ho it m ight have been?’
‘O h, I think it was that horrible m an C rum p,’ said Jennifer.
‘I’ve always disliked him very m uch.’
‘Still, there would have to be a m otive.’
‘I really don’t know if that sort o f person needs m uch motive.
O f course, I did suspect that it was Adele who poisoned M r
Fortescue. But now we can’t suspect that as she’s been poisoned
herself. O h dear, sometimes I feel I must get away — that if it

69
 Agatha Christie

doesn’t all stop soon, I shall —I shall actually run away.’ She leant
back, studying Miss M arple’s face. ‘But perhaps - that w ouldn’t
be wise?’
‘N o —I don’t think it would be very wise —the police could
soon find you, you know.’
‘You think they’re clever enough for that?’
‘It is very foolish to underestim ate the police. Inspector Neele
seems to be a particularly intelligent m an,’ said Miss Marple.
‘I can’t help feeling . . .’ Jennifer Fortescue hesitated, ‘that it’s
dangerous to stay here.’
‘Dangerous for you, you mean? Because o f som ething
you —know? ’
‘O h no — of course I don’t know anything. W hat should I
know? It’s just —just that I’m nervous. T hat m an C rum p . . .’
But it was not, Miss M arple thought, o f Crum p that M rs
Jennifer Fortescue was thinking. A nd for some reason Jennifer
Fortescue was very badly frightened indeed.

70
 Chapter 21
It was getting dark. Miss M arple had taken her knitting over to
the glass doors in the library. Looking out she saw Pat Fortescue
w alking up and dow n outside. Miss M arple opened the door and
called, ‘C om e in, my dear. It’s m uch too damp for you to be out
there w ithout a coat on.’
Pat came in and closed the door behind her and turned on
tw o o f the lamps. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘it’s not a very nice afternoon.’
She sat dow n on the sofa by Miss M arple. ‘W hat are you
m aking?’
‘O h, just a little baby’s coat, dear. I always make the second
size. Babies so soon grow out o f the first size.’
Pat stretched out long legs towards the fire. ‘It’s nice in here
today,’ she said. ‘W ith the fire and the lamps and you knitting
things for babies. It all seems just like England ought to be.’
‘It’s like England is,’ said Miss M arple. ‘There are not so m any
Yewtree Lodges, my dear.’
‘I don’t believe anybody was ever happy here, in spite o f all
the m oney and the things they had. O h, how I w ant to get away
from here!’ She looked at Miss M arple and smiled suddenly ‘D o
you know, Lance told me to stay as close to you as I could. He
seemed to think I w ould be safe that way.’
‘Your husband’s no fool,’ said Miss Marple.
‘N o. Somebody in this house is mad, and madness is always
frightening, because you don’t know how mad people’s minds
w ill work. You don’t know what they’ll do next.’
‘M y poor child,’ said Miss Marple.
‘O h, I’m all right, really. I ought to be tough enough by now.’
Miss M arple said gently, ‘You’ve had a lot o f unhappiness,
haven’t you, m y dear?’

71
 Agatha Christie

‘O h, I’ve had some very good times, too. I had a lovely

childhood in Ireland, riding horses, sw im m ing in the sea when
the weather was good . . . It was afterwards —w hen I grew up —
that things seemed always to go w rong.’
‘Your first husband was a pilot in the war, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes. W e had only been m arried about a m onth w hen D on’s
plane was shot down. I thought at first I w anted to die, too. And
yet —in the end —I almost began to see that it had been the best
thing. D on was brave and reckless — all the qualities that are
needed in a war. But I don’t believe peace w ould have suited
him . He w ould have fought against things. H e was —well, anti­
social in a way. N o, he w ouldn’t have fitted in.’
‘It’s wise o f you to see that, my dear. And your second husband?’
‘Freddy? W e were very happy together, but Freddy wasn’t
very honest in his horse-racing business. However, it didn’t seem
to matter, betw een us two, that is. Because, you see, Freddy
loved me and I loved him and I tried not to know what was
happening. T hat wasn’t very brave, I suppose, but I couldn’t have
changed him you know. You can’t change people.’
‘N o,’ said Miss M arple, ‘you can’t change people.’
‘Then things w ent w rong and he shot him self and I w ent out
to Kenya to stay w ith some friends there. And I m et Lance.’ H er
face softened, then after a short pause she said, ‘Tell me, Miss
M arple, w hat do you really think o f Percival?’
‘Well, I don’t think he likes my being here very m uch.’
Pat laughed suddenly. ‘H e’s mean. He goes over the
housekeeping accounts w ith Miss Dove, com plaining about
every item. But Miss Dove manages to w in every time. She’s
really rather wonderful, don’t you think? ’
‘Yes, indeed,’ agreed Miss Marple. ‘She reminds me o f Mrs
Latimer in my ow n village, St M ary Mead. She ran the Girl

72
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

Guides, and indeed, she ran practically everything there. She

had been doing it for five years w hen we discovered that . . . oh,
but I m ustn’t gossip. You must forgive me, my dear.’
‘Is St M ary M ead a very nice village?’
‘W ell, it’s quite a pretty village. There are some nice people
living in it and some extremely unpleasant people as well. H um an
nature is m uch the same everywhere, is it not? ’
‘You go up and see Miss R am sbottom a lot, don’t you?’ said
Pat. ‘N ow she really frightens me. She sits up there and thinks
about wickedness. Well, she m ight have felt in the end that it was
up to her to deliver justice.’
‘Is that w hat your husband thinks?’
‘I don’t know what Lance thinks about the murders really. But
I’m quite sure o f one thing - that he believes that the m urderer is
someone w ho’s mad, and it’s someone in the family. And I don’t
see how it can be anybody from outside. A nd so - and so that’s
why there’s this terrible atmosphere here. Everyone is w atching
everybody else. O nly som ething’s got to happen soon.’
‘There w on’t be any m ore deaths,’ said Miss Marple. ‘The
m urderer’s got w hat he or she wanted, you see.’
‘A nd w hat is that? ’
Miss M arple shook her head — she was not yet quite sure
herself.

73
 Chapter 22
In the office of Consolidated Investments, once again Miss Somers
had just m ade tea in the typists’ room , and once again the
kettle had not been boiling. As so often before, Miss Griffith
said sharply, ‘T he water’s not boiling again, Somers,’ but she was
interrupted by the entrance o f Lance Fortescue. Miss Griffith
jum ped up. ‘M r Lance,’ she exclaimed.
His face lit up in a smile. ‘Hello, Miss Griffith.’
Miss Griffith was delighted. Eleven years since he had seen
her and he knew her name. She said in an excited voice, ‘You
remem ber m e!’
And Lance said easily, smiling his attractive smile, ‘O f course
I remember.’ He looked round him . ‘So everything’s still going
on just the same here.’
‘N ot m any changes, M r Lance. I suppose you must have had
a very interesting life abroad.’
‘You could call it that,’ said Lance, ‘but perhaps I am now
going to try and have an interesting life in London.’
‘You’re com ing back here to the office?’
‘Maybe. You’ll have to show me how everything works
again, Miss Griffith.’
Miss Griffith laughed delightedly. ‘It w ill be very nice to
have you back, M r Lance. Very nice indeed. W e never believed —
none of us thought . . .’ Miss Griffith broke off.
Lance patted her on the arm. ‘You didn’t believe I was as
guilty as it seemed I was? Well, perhaps I wasn’t. But that’s all old
history now. T he future’s the im portant thing now.’ He added,
‘Is my brother here?’
‘H e’s in the inner office.’

74
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

Lance nodded and walked on through to his father’s office.

Som ewhat to his surprise it was not Percival w ho was sitting
behind the desk there, but Inspector Neele.
‘G ood m orning, M r Fortescue. Are you really going to become
a city m an? It doesn’t seem the kind o f life that would suit you.’
Lance sat down, smiling. ‘You’re more intelligent than my
brother, Inspector. Percival thinks I’ve decided to join the firm
again and that I’ll spend the firm ’s m oney on risky investments. It
would be almost w orth doing just for the fun o f it! But I couldn’t
really stand an office life. However, I want to make him w orry a
bit. I’ve got to have just a little revenge!’
‘There was a problem w ith a forged cheque some years ago, I
understand. W ould that be w hat you w ant revenge for?’ enquired
Inspector Neele.
‘H ow m uch you know, Inspector! ’
‘There was no question o f prosecution, I understand,’ said
Neele. ‘Your father w ouldn’t have done that.’
’ ‘No. H e just got rid of me, that’s all.’
Inspector Neele thought about Percival. It seemed to him
that wherever his investigations got in the case, there was Percival
Fortescue. O n the surface, he seemed to be a man who had never
said no to his father. Neele was trying now, through Lance, to learn
more about Percival’s personality. ‘Your brother seems always to have
been very much —well, how shall I put it —controlled by your father.’
‘I don’t know,’ Lance said. ‘I’m not sure that it was really the
truth. It’s amazing, when I look back through life, to see how
Percival always got what he wanted w ithout seeming to do so, if
you know w hat I m ean.’
Neele pushed a letter across the desk towards Lance. ‘This is a
letter you w rote last August, isn’t it, M r Fortescue?’

75
 Agatha Christie

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I w rote it after I got back to Kenya last summer,

saying I w ould rejoin the firm. W here was it —here in the office?’
‘No, it was am ong your father’s papers in Yewtree Lodge.
W here did you address this letter, M r Fortescue?’
Lance frowned. ‘The office. W hy?’
‘I wondered,’ said Inspector Neele. ‘Your father did not put it
on the file here am ong his private papers. I found it in his desk at
Yewtree Lodge there. I wondered w hy he w ould have done that.’
Lance laughed. ‘To hide it from Percival, I suppose. H e always
did read other people’s letters. A nd just look w ho’s here!’
Percival Fortescue came in. About to speak to the Inspector
he stopped, frow ning, as he saw Lance. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘You
didn’t tell me you were com ing here today.’
‘O h, I felt I had to come and get started on my new w orking
life,’ said Lance. ‘By the way, why did you get rid o f the old
m an’s glamorous secretary, Grosvenor? D id you think she knew
a bit too m uch?’
‘O f course not. W hat an idea!’ Percy spoke angrily. He turned
to the Inspector. ‘You m ustn’t pay any attention to my brother,’
he said coldly. ‘H e has a rather strange sense o f hum our. I never
had a very high opinion o f Miss Grosvenor’s intelligence and in
any case, we have to save money —the firm is in a bad state.’
‘T hat’s one o f the things I wanted to talk to you about, M r
Fortescue,’ Inspector Neele said to Percival.
‘Yes, Inspector?’
‘I understand that your father’s recent behaviour made you
w orry and you tried to make him see a doctor, but he refused?’
‘That is correct.’
‘M ay I ask you if you suspected that your father had one o f
those mental illnesses w hich make people behave in an extrem e
way?’

76
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

‘T hat is exactly what I did suspect.’

Neele continued, ‘So from the business point o f view, your
father’s death was very fortunate.’
‘You can’t believe that I w ould think o f my father’s death in
that way!’
‘It is not a question o f how you think o f it, M r Fortescue. I’m
speaking about a fact.’
‘Yes. But really, Inspector, I don’t see w hat you’re trying to
say . . .’ Percival broke off.
‘O h, I’m not trying to say anything, M r Fortescue,’ said
Neele. ‘I just like getting my facts together. Now, you said that
you hadn’t had any com m unication at all w ith your brother
since he left England m any years ago —but last spring you w rote
and told him you were w orried about your father’s behaviour.
You wanted your brother to support you in getting your father
medically exam ined.’
‘I - I - I thought it only right. After all, Lance was a junior
partner.’
Inspector Neele looked at Lance, w ho was smiling.
‘You received that letter?’ Inspector Neele asked.
Lance Fortescue nodded.
‘W hat did you reply to it? ’
‘I told Percy to leave the old m an alone. I said the old m an
knew w hat he was doing. A nd that is one of the reasons why,
w hen I got a letter from my father, I came hom e to see for
myself. In the short interview I had w ith my father, he appeared
to m e to be quite capable o f m anaging his business. Anyway,
after I got back to Africa and had talked things over w ith Pat, I
decided that I w ould com e hom e and m ake sure that my father
wasn’t pushed into som ething that he didn’t w ant.’ H e looked
at Percival as he spoke.

77
 Agatha Christie

‘I object strongly to w hat you are suggesting. I was worried

about my father’s health. I adm it that I was also w orried . . .’
Percival paused.
Lance filled the pause quickly. ‘W orried about your pocket,
eh?’ He got up and all of a sudden his behaviour changed. ‘A ll
right, Percy, I was going to annoy you for a while by pretending
to work here, but I’ve had enough of it. It makes me sick to be in
the same room w ith you. You’ve always been nasty and m ean since
you were a child, lying and making trouble. I’ve always believed
it was you who forged that cheque —for one thing it was a very
bad forgery. I can’t understand why Father didn’t realize that if
I had forged his name, I would have done it much better. Well, I’m
sick o f little m en like you w ith their almost crim inal financial deals.
W e’ll divide everything as you suggested, and I’ll get back with Pat
to a country where there’s room to breathe. Give me Father’s latest
risky investments. I’ll bet that one or two of them will make a great
deal of money in the end! As for you, you little . . .’ Lance walked
towards his brother, who stepped backwards quickly.
‘A ll right,’ said Lance, ‘I’m not going to touch you. You
wanted me out o f here, you’re getting me out of here.’ He
added as he walked towards the door, ‘You can also give me
the old Blackbird M ine too, if you like. If w e’ve got m urdering
MacKenzies following us, I’ll lead them off to Africa. Revenge —
after all these years —it doesn’t seem likely. But Inspector Neele
seems to take it seriously, don’t you, Inspector? ’
‘Nonsense,’ said Percival. ‘Such a thing is impossible!’
Gently stroking his upper lip, Inspector Neele said,
‘You rem em ber the blackbirds last summer, M r Fortescue.
There are reasons for us to investigate.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Percival again. ‘N obody’s heard o f the
MacKenzies for years.’

78
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

‘And yet,’ said Lance, ‘I’d almost believe that there’s a

MacKenzie very near us. I im agine the Inspector thinks so, too.’
★★★
Inspector Neele followed Lance Fortescue into the street. ‘M r
Fortescue, w hen you came into the inner office and saw me, you
were surprised. W hy?’
‘Because I thought I’d find Percy there. Miss Griffith said he
was in his office.’
‘I see — so nobody knew he’d gone out. T here’s no second
door out o f the inner office —but there is a door leading straight
into the corridor from the secretary’s office - I suppose your
brother w ent out that way.’
Lance looked at him . ‘W hat’s the idea, Inspector?’
‘J ust puzzling over a few little things, that’s all, M r Fortescue.’

79
 Chapter 23
O n the train on the way back down to Baydon Heath, Inspector
Neele read the news in The Times w ith only half his brain taking
it in. He read o f an earthquake in Japan; o f the discovery in
Tanganyika of valuable uranium , needed to m ake nuclear
weapons; of the body o f a sailor found on the beach near
Southam pton. All these items made a strange kind o f pattern in
the back o f his m ind and w hen he reached Yewtree Lodge he
had made a decision. He said to Sergeant Hay, ‘W here’s Miss
Marple? I’d like to see her.’
Miss M arple arrived a few minutes later, looking quite pink.
‘You want to see me, Inspector Neele? I do hope I haven’t kept
you waiting. I was in the kitchen talking to M rs C rum p about
her wonderful cooking.’
‘W hat you really wanted to talk to her about,’ said Inspector
Neele, ‘was Gladys M artin?’
Miss M arple nodded. ‘Yes. Gladys. You see, Mrs Crum p was
able to tell me about her behaviour lately and the things she said.
I really think, you know, that things are becom ing very m uch
clearer, don’t you?’
‘I do and I don’t. Look here, Miss M arple, I’ve heard
som ething about you at the Yard.’ H e smiled, ‘It seems you’re
fairly well know n there.’
‘I don’t know how it is,’ said Miss M arple, ‘but I so often seem
to get m ixed up in crimes and strange events.’
‘You’ve got a reputation.’ said Inspector Neele, ‘and you and
I have different points of view. But our base is the same. This murder
benefits certain people. One person in particular. The second
m urder benefits the same person. But the third m urder - well, you
could say the third m urder was done to keep the murderer safe.’

80
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

‘But which do you call the third m urder?’ Miss M arple asked.
H er eyes, a very bright blue, looked intelligently at the Inspector.
He nodded. ‘Yes. W hen the Assistant Comissioner was speaking
to me of these murders, something that he said seemed to me to
be wrong. That was it. The nursery rhyme says: the king in his
counting house, the queen in the parlour and the maid hanging
out the clothes.’
‘Exactly,’ said Miss Marple. ‘But actually Gladys must have
been m urdered before Mrs Fortescue, m ustn’t she?’
‘I think so,’ said Neele. ‘H er body wasn’t discovered till late
that night, but she must almost certainly have been m urdered
round about five o’clock, because otherwise she would have
taken the second tray into the draw ing room . She took one
tray in w ith the tea on it, and then she saw or heard something.
It might have been Dubois com ing dow n the stairs from Mrs
Fortescue’s room . It might have been Gerald W right com ing in
at the side door. W hoever it was persuaded her to leave the tea
tray and go out into the garden. A nd once that had happened I
believe she was killed immediately.’
‘You’re quite right,’ said Miss M arple. ‘It was never a case
o f “the m aid was in the garden hanging up the clothes”. She
w ouldn’t be hanging up clothes at that tim e o f the evening and
the clothes peg was simply to m ake the thing fit in w ith the
rhym e.’
‘It fits,’ said Neele, ‘but I’m going to describe my side o f the
case now, Miss M arple. I’m going by the simple facts and the
reasons for w hich sane people do murders. First, the death o f
R ex Fortescue, and who benefits by his death. W ell, most of all,
Percival. If a hundred thousand pounds had to be paid to Adele
Fortescue according to her husband’s w ill, Consolidated would
have been finished as a business. But she didn’t live longer than

81
 Agatha Christie

a m onth after her husband’s death and the person who gained
from her death was Percival Fortescue again. But although
he could have put the taxine into the m arm alade, he couldn’t
have poisoned his stepm other or strangled Gladys. According
to his secretary he was in his city office at five o’clock that
afternoon, and he didn’t arrive back here until nearly seven.
However, there are other people w ho had a perfectly good
m otive.’
‘M r Dubois, o f course,’ said Miss M arple. ‘A nd that young
M r W right. W henever there is any question o f gain, one has to
be very suspicious. Never trust anyone.’
Neele smiled. Miss M arple never failed to surprise him!
‘A lways think the worst, eh?’ he asked.
‘O h yes,’ said Miss M arple. ‘A lways!’
‘A ll right,’ said Neele, ‘let’s think the worst. Dubois could
have done it, Gerald W right could have done it if he had been
w orking together w ith Elaine Fortescue and she put the taxine in
the m armalade. Jennifer Fortescue could have done it, but none
o f them seem to have any connection w ith blackbirds and pockets
full of rye. T hat’s your theory and it points to one person. Mrs
M acKenzie’s in a m ental hospital and her son D onald was killed
in the war. T hat leaves the daughter, R uby MacKenzie. A nd if
your theory is correct, if this whole series of murders is because
o f the old Blackbird M ine business, then R uby MacKenzie must
be here in this house, and there’s only one person that R uby
MacKenzie could be.’
‘I think, you know,’ said Miss M arple, ‘that you may not be
seeing the whole picture, Inspector.’
Inspector Neele paid no attention. ‘J ust one person,’ he said.
He got up and w ent out of the room.
★★★

82
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

M ary Dove was in her sitting room . H ow w onderfully self­

controlled the girl was, Neele thought. She said calmly, ‘Yes,
Inspector? W hat can I do for you?’
Inspector Neele said quietly, ‘Is your real name D ove?’
M ary raised her eyebrows. ‘Are you suggesting that my name
is not M ary D ove?’
‘I’m suggesting that your nam e is R uby MacKenzie. Is your
nam e R uby M acKenzie?’
‘I have told you my name is M ary Dove. D o you w ant to see
my birth certificate?’
‘You m ight have the birth certificate o f a M ary Dove. That
M ary Dove m ight be a friend o f yours or m ight be someone w ho
had died.’
‘Yes, there are a lot o f possibilities, aren’t there?’ There was
laughter now in M ary Dove’s voice. ‘I think you know, Inspector,
that you have to prove I am this R uby MacKenzie, whoever
she is.’ Looking him straight in the eyes, M ary Dove said, ‘Yes,
Inspector. Prove that I’m R uby M acKenzie, if you can.’

83
 Chapter 24
Miss M arple was talking to Jennifer Fortescue w hile she
knitted. ‘I had such a nice nurse looking after m e w hen I
once broke m y w rist. She w ent on from m e to nurse M rs
Sparrow ’s son, a very nice young naval officer and they
m arried and had tw o dear little children. T hat was the
beginning o f your rom ance, was it not? I m ean, you came
here to nurse M r Percival Fortescue, did you not? O ne should
not listen to servants’ gossip, o f course, but I’m afraid an old
lady like m yself is always interested to hear about the people
in the house. T here was another nurse at first, was there not,
and she got sent away — som ething like that? T hey said she
was careless, I believe.’
‘I don’t think she was careless,’ said Jennifer. ‘I believe her
father was extrem ely ill, and so I came to replace her.’
‘I see,’ said Miss M arple. ‘A nd you fell in love w ith Percival
and that was that. Yes, very nice indeed, very nice.’
‘I’m not so sure about that,’ said Jennifer Fortescue. ‘I often
wish . . .’ her voice was very quiet, ‘I was back in the hospital
again. Life’s so boring, you know. O h, it’s what I deserve! I
should not have done it.’
‘Should not have done what, my dear?’
‘I should not have m arried Percival. O h, well,’ she sighed.
‘D on’t let’s talk o f it any m ore.’
And Miss M arple began to talk about the new skirts that were
being w orn in Paris.
★★★
Miss M arple knocked at the door o f the study and Inspector
Neele told her to come in.
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

‘W e didn’t really finish our talk just now,’ she said, ‘and I
wasn’t quite ready then to m ake any accusation unless I was
absolutely sure about it. And I am sure, now.’
‘You’re sure about what, Miss M arple?’
‘W ell, certainly about w ho killed M r Fortescue. The
m arm alade shows how, as well as who, and though she was not
clever, she was intelligent enough to do it. The beginning is
Gladys. A nd w hat w ith the nylon stockings and the telephone
calls and one thing and another, it was perfectly clear as to who
put the taxine into M r Fortescue’s m arm alade.’
‘You have a theory?’ asked Inspector Neele, ‘
‘It isn’t a theory,’ said Miss M arple. ‘I know.’
Inspector Neele looked surprised.
‘It was Gladys, o f course,’ said Miss Marple.

85
 Chapter 25
‘A re you saying,’ Inspector Neele said, astonished, ‘that Gladys
Martin deliberately m urdered R ex Fortescue?’
‘N o, o f course she didn’t mean to m urder him ,’ said Miss
M arple, ‘but she put the taxine in the m armalade. She didn’t
think it was poison, o f course.’
‘W hat did she think it was?’
‘I believe she thought it was a truth drug,’ said Miss Marple.
‘It’s very interesting, you know, the things these girls cut out
of papers and keep, because they believe that if a story is in a
newspaper, then it must be true. A nd if she had it read in the
papers, then Gladys w ould have believed it w hen he told her that
it was a truth drug.’
‘W hen who told her?’ said Inspector Neele.
‘A lbert Evans,’ said Miss M arple. ‘T h at’s not his real nam e,
o f course. H e m et her last sum m er at a holiday camp, and
he said sweet things to her, kissed her, and probably told her
some story o f being cheated out o f m oney by R ex Fortescue.
T he point was that R ex Fortescue had to be m ade to confess
w hat he had done. I don’t know this, o f course, Inspector
Neele, but I’m quite sure about it. H e persuaded her to take
a jo b here - it’s really very easy nowadays w ith the shortage
o f dom estic staff, to get a job w here you w ant one. T hey then
arranged a date together. You rem em ber on that last postcard
he said, Remember our date. T hat was to be the day Gladys w ould
put the drug that he gave her into the top o f the m arm alade, so
that M r Fortescue w ould eat it at breakfast, and she w ould also
put the rye in his pocket. I don’t know w hat story he told her
to explain the rye, but Gladys M artin was a girl w ho w ould
believe alm ost anything.’

86
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

‘Please continue,’ said Inspector Neele in an amazed voice.

‘The idea probably was that A lbert was going to visit him at
the office that day, and that by that tim e the truth drug w ould
have worked, and so M r Fortescue w ould confess everything.
You can im agine the poor girl’s feelings when she heard that M r
Fortescue was dead.’
‘But, surely,’ Inspector Neele objected, ‘she would have told
som eone?’
‘W hat was the first thing she said to you w hen you questioned
her?’
‘She said, “I didn’t do it”,’ Inspector Neele said.
‘Exactly,’ said Miss Marple. ‘W hen she w orked for me, Gladys
would always say if she broke anything, “I didn’t do it, Miss
M arple. I can’t think how it happened.” You don’t think that a
nervous young w om an who had m urdered someone w hen she
didn’t m ean to m urder him , is going to adm it it, do you? H er
first idea w ould be to deny it all. T hen in a confused way she
w ould try to sort it all out. Perhaps A lbert hadn’t know n how
strong the truth drug was. She’d think of excuses for him . She
w ould hope he would contact her, w hich he did. By telephone.
There were unexplained calls that day. People rang up and, when
C rum p or M rs Crum p answered, nobody spoke, so they w ould
put the telephone down. T hat’s w hat he would do, you know.
R in g up and wait until Gladys answered the phone, and then he
w ould m ake an appointm ent w ith her to m eet him .’
‘You m ean she had an appointm ent to m eet him on the day
she died.’
Miss M arple nodded quickly. ‘Yes. The girl was wearing
her best nylon stockings and her good shoes. O nly she wasn’t
going out to m eet him . He was com ing to Yewtree Lodge. T hat’s
w hy she was so excited and late w ith tea. Then, as she brought

87
 Agatha Christie

the second tray into the hall, she looked along the hall to the side
door, and saw him there, waving to her. She put the tray dow n
and w ent out to m eet him .’
‘And then he strangled her,’ said Neele.
‘He couldn’t risk her talking. She had to die, poor, silly girl.
And then — he put a clothes peg on her nose!’ There was great
anger in the old lady’s voice. ‘To m ake it fit in w ith the rhyme.
The rye, the blackbirds, the counting house, the bread and
honey, and the clothes peg - the nearest he could get to a little
dickey bird that nipped off her nose —’
‘A nd I suppose at the end of it all he’ll go to Broadm oor and
we w on’t be able to hang him because he’s crazy!’ said Neele
slowly.
‘I think you’ll hang him all right,’ said Miss M arple. ‘H e’s not
crazy, Inspector!’
Inspector Neele looked hard at her. ‘N ow see here, Miss
M arple, you’re saying that a m an is responsible for these crimes. A
m an w ho called him self Albert Evans was someone who wanted
revenge for the old Blackbird M ine business. You’re suggesting,
aren’t you, that M rs M acKenzie’s son, D on MacKenzie, didn’t
die in France. T hat he is responsible for all this?’
‘O h no!’ she said. ‘This blackbird business is a complete fake.
It was used, that was all, by somebody w ho heard about the
blackbirds on the desk and in the pie. T he blackbirds were real
enough. They were put there by someone w ho knew about the
old business, w ho wanted revenge for it. But only the revenge of
trying to frighten M r Fortescue. I don’t believe that children can
really be brought up to carry out revenge. But someone whose
father had been cheated and perhaps left to die, m ight w ant to
play a trick on the person who was supposed to have done it.
T hat’s what happened, I think. A nd the killer used it.’
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

‘The killer,’ said Inspector Neele. ‘W ho was he?’

‘H e’s sane, brilliantly intelligent, and quite w ithout m orals.
A nd he did it, of course, for money.’
‘Percival Fortescue?’ Inspector Neele almost begged, but he
knew as he spoke that he was wrong.
‘O h, no,’ said Miss M arple. ‘N ot Percival. Lance.’
 Chapter 26
Miss M arple leaned forw ard in her chair. ‘H e’s always been
bad, completely bad, although he’s also always been attractive.
Especially attractive to women. And because o f his charm,
people have always believed the best about him . He came home
in the sum m er to see his father. I don’t believe for a m om ent that
his father invited him —he probably flew over here and tried to
get his father to forgive him , but M r Fortescue w ouldn’t do it.
You see, Lance was very m uch in love w ith Pat —who is a dear
girl —and he w anted a respectable life w ith her. And that meant
having a lot o f money.
‘W hen he was at Yewtree Lodge, he must have heard about
these blackbirds. H e guessed that M acKenzie’s daughter was
in the house and he realized that she would m ake a very good
scapegoat for murder. Because when he couldn’t get his father
to do what he wanted, he cold-bloodedly decided that m urder
it would have to be. Perhaps the coincidence o f his father’s first
name being R ex, together w ith hearing about the blackbirds in
the pie, suggested the idea o f the nursery rhyme. T hen he could
make a crazy business of the whole thing —and connect it to that
old revenge threat of the MacKenzies. Then, you see, he could
kill Adele, too, and stop that hundred thousand pounds going
out of the firm. But there would have to be a third character,
the “maid in the garden hanging up the clothes”. A n innocent
accomplice w hom he could silence before she could talk. And
that would give him a real alibi for the first murder.
‘He arrived here just before five o’clock, which was the time
Gladys brought the second tray into the hall. H e came to the side
door and waved to her. It would only have taken him three or four
minutes to strangle her and carry her body to where the clothes

90
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

lines were. Then he rang the front-door bell and joined the family
for tea. After tea he went up to see Miss Ram sbottom . W hen he
came down, he went into the drawing room, found Adele alone,
drinking a last cup o f tea, and sat down by her on the sofa. W hile
he was talking to her, he managed to put the cyanide into her tea
w ithout her noticing.’
Inspector Neele said slowly, ‘But I cannot see w hat he thought
he would get from it. O f course, unless old Fortescue died, the
business w ould soon be finished, but is Lance’s share really big
enough to m ake him plan three m urders?’
‘T hat is a little difficult,’ adm itted Miss Marple. ‘But is it
really true that the Blackbird M ine is worthless?’
Neele thought about it. A gold m ine. A worthless gold mine.
And w here was the mine? West Africa, Lance had said. But Miss
R am sbottom had said it was in East Africa. Lance had just come
from East Africa. Maybe he had some recent knowledge?
Suddenly another piece fitted into the Inspector’s puzzle.
Sitting in the train, reading The Times. Uranium deposits found
in Tanganyika. W hat if the uranium was in the Blackbird M ine?
Lance was there when it was found — and knew the m ine was
now w orth a fortune. An enormous fortune! Neele sighed and
looked at Miss M arple. ‘H ow do you think,’ he asked, ‘that I’m
ever going to be able to prove all this?’
Miss M arple nodded at him encouragingly. ‘You’ll prove it,’
she said. ‘You’re a very, very clever m an, Inspector Neele. N ow
you know w ho it is, you ought to be able to get the evidence.
At that holiday camp they’ll recognize Lance’s photograph.
He must have gone there when he came over to see his father,
looking for an innocent, vulnerable girl who would do anything
for him . H e’ll find it hard to explain why he stayed there for a
week, calling him self Albert Evans.’

91
 Agatha Christie

‘Yes,’ Inspector Neele thought, ‘I’ll get him !’ Then, suddenly

feeling unsure, he looked at Miss M arple. ‘It’s all theory, you
know.’
‘Yes —but you are sure, aren’t you?’
‘I suppose so. After all, I’ve know n people like him before.’
The old lady nodded. ‘Yes - that’s really w hy I ’m sure.’
‘Because o f your knowledge o f crim inals,’ Neele asked.
‘O h no —o f course not. Because of Pat —a dear girl —and the
kind that always m arries a bad m an - that’s really w hat made me
suspect him at the start.’
‘But there’s a lot that needs explaining,’ said the Inspector. ‘The
Ruby MacKenzie business for instance. I could swear th a t. . .’
Miss M arple interrupted, ‘Go and talk to Jennifer.’
★★★
‘Mrs Fortescue,’ said Inspector Neele, ‘do you m ind telling
me your nam e before you were m arried.’
‘O h !’Jennifer exclaimed. ‘It —it was M acKenzie . . .’
‘You needn’t be nervous, M adam ,’ said Inspector Neele
gently, and added, ‘I was talking to your m other a few days ago
at Pinewood Sanatorium.’
‘She’s very angry w ith me,’ said Jennifer. ‘Poor M other,
she loved Dad so much. She kept m aking us promise that we
would kill R ex Fortescue one day. O f course, once I’d started
my nursing training, I began to realize that her m ental balance
wasn’t what it should be.’
‘You yourself must have wanted revenge though, Mrs
Fortescue?’
‘Well, o f course I did. R ex Fortescue practically m urdered my
father! I’m quite certain that he left Father to die. So I did want
to pay him back. W hen a friend of m ine came to nurse his son,

92
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

Percival, I persuaded her to leave and suggested that I replace her.

I don’t know exactly w hat I m eant to do. I had some idea, I think,
of nursing his son so badly that he w ould die. But o f course, if
you are a nurse, you can’t do that sort of thing. Actually I had
great difficulty saving Percival. A nd then he asked me to m arry
him and I thought, “Well, that’s a far m ore sensible revenge than
anything else.” I m ean, to m arry M r Fortescue’s eldest son and
get the m oney he cheated Father out of that way.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Inspector Neele, ‘far more sensible. It was
you, I suppose, who put the blackbirds on the desk and in the pie?’
Jennifer looked down. ‘Yes. I suppose it was silly o f me
really . . . But I didn’t do anything elsel You don’t - you don’t
honestly think I would murder anyone, do you?’
Inspector Neele smiled. ‘N o,’ he said, ‘I don’t.’ He added, ‘By
the way, have you given Miss Dove any m oney lately?’
Jennifer looked shocked. ‘H ow did you know ?’
‘W e know a lot o f things,’ said Inspector Neele and added to
himself: A nd guess a good many, too.
‘She came to me and said that you had accused her o f being
R uby M acKenzie. She said if I gave her five hundred pounds,
she w ould let you continue thinking she was R uby MacKenzie.
I found it very difficult to get the money. I had to sell a very
beautiful necklace m y husband had given me.’
‘D on’t worry, M rs Fortescue,’ said Inspector Neele, ‘I think
we can get your m oney back for you.’
★★★
Inspector Neele had another interview w ith Miss M ary Dove.
‘I wonder, Miss Dove,’ he said, ‘if you w ould give me a cheque
for five hundred pounds payable to Mrs Jennifer Fortescue.’ He
had the pleasure of seeing M ary D ove’s calmness disappear.

93
 Agatha Christie

‘The silly fool told you, I suppose,’ she said.

‘Yes. Blackm ail. Miss Dove, is rather a serious crim e.’
‘I think you’d find it hard to prove that I was guilty of
blackmail.’
‘Well, if you’ll give me that cheque, Miss Dove, w e’ll leave
it like that. O therw ise we have no proof against you at all. It is
a strange, though, that in each of the last three places you have
worked, there have been robberies about three m onths after you
left. The thieves seemed to have know n exactly where fur coats,
jewels, etc. were kept. Strange coincidence, isn’t it?’
‘Coincidences do happen, Inspector.’
‘O h, yes,’ said Neele. ‘But they m ustn’t happen too often,
Miss Dove. It is possible,’ he added, ‘that we may m eet again in
the future.’
‘I hope . . .’ said M ary Dove, ‘I don’t m ean to be rude,
Inspector Neele —but I hope we don’t.’

94
 Chapter 27
Miss M arple w ent to say goodbye to Miss R am sbottom . ‘I’m
afraid,’ said Miss M arple, ‘that I’ve repaid you badly for your
kindness to m e.’
‘H ah,’ said Miss Ram sbottom . ‘You found out w hat you
w anted to, I suppose. And I suppose you’ve told that police
Inspector all about it? W ill he be able to prove a case?’
‘I’m almost sure he will,’ said Miss M arple. ‘It may take a
little tim e.’
‘I don’t blame you for w hat you’ve done. W ickedness is
wickedness and has got to be punished. H andsom e, Lance
is, but he has always been bad. Yes, I was afraid o f it. Ah,
well, som etim es it can be difficult not to love a bad boy. The
boy always had charm . He lied about the tim e he left me that
day Adele died. But he was m y beloved sister Elvira’s boy —
I couldn’t possibly say anything against him . You’re a good
w om an, Jane M arple, and good m ust always w in. I’m sorry for
his wife, though.’
‘So am I,’ said Miss Marple.
★★★
In the hall Pat Fortescue was w aiting to say goodbye. ‘I wish
you w eren’t going,’ she said. ‘I shall miss you.’
‘It’s tim e for me to go,’ said Miss M arple. ‘I’ve finished what
I came here to do. It’s im portant, you know, that wickedness
shouldn’t w in.’
Pat looked puzzled. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘N o, m y dear. But if I m ight advise you, if anything ever goes
w rong in your life —go back to where you were happy as a child.
Go back to Ireland, m y dear. Horses and dogs. All that.’

95
 Agatha Christie

Pat nodded. ‘Sometimes I wish I had done just that when

Freddy died. But if I had,’ her voice softened, ‘I would not have
m et Lance. W e’re not staying here, you know. W e’re going back
to East Africa. I’m so pleased.’
‘Be happy, dear child,’ said Miss Marple. ‘O ne needs a great deal
o f courage to get through life. I think you have it.’ She patted the
girl’s hand and w ent through the front door to the waiting taxi.
★★★
Miss M arple reached hom e late that evening. K itty — the
latest girl she had taken in to train —greeted her w ith a smiling
face. ‘I’m so happy to see you —you’ll find everything very nice
in the house. I’ve cleaned and cleaned!’
‘T hat’s very nice, K itty —I’m happy to be hom e.’ There were
six spider’s webs on the ceiling, Miss M arple noted. These girls
never looked up. She was too kind to say anything.
‘Your letters are on the hall table, Miss. And there’s one that
was delivered to the w rong house —it only arrived today.’
Miss M arple recognized the childish handw riting. She tore
the envelope open.
Dear Madam,
I hope you’ll forgive me writing this but I really don’t know what
to do and I never meant any harm. It was murder, they say, but it
wasn’t me that did it, not really. I would never do anything wicked
like that and I know he wouldn’t either. Albert, I mean.
We met last summer and we were going to be married, but Albert
had been cheated out of his inheritance by M r R ex Fortescue. A n d
M r Fortescue just denied everything and everybody believed him, and
not Albert, because he was rich and Albert was poor. B ut Albert has
a friend who works in a place where they make these new drugs and

96
 A Pocket Full o f Rye

they have what they call a truth drug and it makes people speak the
truth whether they want to or not.
Albert was going to see M r Fortescue in his office on Nov. 5th, taking a
lawyer with him .The only thing I had to do was to give M r Fortescue
the drug at breakfast that morning and then it would work just when
they arrived and he’d admit that everything that Albert said was quite
true. Well, Madam, I put the drug in the marmalade —but now M r
Fortescue is dead! I think it must have been too strong, but it wasn’t
A lbert’s fault because Albert would never do a thing like that. I can’t
tell the police because maybe they’d think Albert did it on purpose,
which I know he didn’t.
Oh, Madam, I don’t know what to do and I haven’t heard from
Albert. I f you could only come here and help me, they’d listen
to you. You were always so kind to me, and I didn’t mean to do
anything wrong and Albert didn’t either. I f you could only help us.
Yours respectfully,
Gladys Martin.
P. S. — I ’m enclosing a photograph o f Albert and me. O ne o f the boys
took it at the holiday camp and gave it to me. Albert doesn’t know
I ’ve got it - he hates being photographed. B ut you can see, Madam,
what a nice boy he is.
Miss M arple stared dow n at the photograph, to the dark,
handsome, sm iling face of Lance Fortescue. The last words of the
sad little letter echoed in her m ind, You can see what a nice boy he is.
Tears rose in Miss M arple’s eyes. But following her sadness
for poor Gladys, there came anger —anger against a cold-blooded
killer.
A nd then there came a huge feeling of trium ph - there was
no escape now for Lance Fortescue!

97
 C h a r a c t e r l is t

Miss Somers: a typist at Consolidated Investments Trust (CIT)

Miss Griffith: the head typist at CIT

Miss Irene Grosvenor: personal secretary to Rex Fortescue, owner of CIT

Mr Rex Fortescue: wealthy businessman who owns CIT

Dr Isaacs: a doctor who works near CIT

Sir Edwin Sandeman: Rex Fortescue’s personal doctor

Detective Inspector Neele: a Scotland Yard police officer

Detective Sergeant Hay: Inspector Neele’s junior colleague

Dr Bernsdorff: a doctor at St Jude’s hospital

Mrs Adele Fortescue: second wife of Rex Fortescue

Miss Elaine Fortescue: daughter of Rex Fortescue by his first wife

Mr Percival Fortescue: eldest son of Rex Fortescue

Mr Lance Fortescue: younger son of Rex Fortescue

Mrs Jennifer Fortescue: wife of Percival Fortescue

Mrs Patricia (Pat) Fortescue: wife of Lance Fortescue

Mr Crump: Rex Fortescue’s butler

Mary Dove: Rex Fortescue’s housekeeper

Mrs Crump: Rex Fortescue’s cook, married to Mr Crump

Gerald Wright: a schoolteacher that Elaine Fortescue is in love with

 Character list

Gladys Martin: Rex Fortescue’s parlourmaid

Ellen Curtis: Rex Fortescue’s housemaid

Miss Effie Ramsbottom: sister of Rex Fortescue’s first wife

Mr Vivian Dubois: a friend of Adele Fortescue’s

Assistant Commissioner: senior police officer at Scotland Yard to whom

Neele reports

Albert Evans: Gladys Martin’s boyfriend

Miss Jane Marple: an elderly lady with a habit of solving murders

Mrs Helen MacKenzie: the widow of a man who was once in business
with Rex Fortescue

Mr Ansell: a lawyer working for Adele Fortescue

Mr Billingsley: a lawyer working for Rex Fortescue

Dr Crosbie: in charge of the Pinewood Private Sanatorium

Donald MacKenzie: Helen MacKenzies son

Ruby Mackenzie: Helen MacKenzies daughter

Kitty: the girl Miss Marple is training to be a parlourmaid

99
 C u ltu r a l n o t e s

Stocks, shares and investments

The Fortescue's family firm was one that did business by using money to
make more money in the world of finance. They bought and sold stocks and
shares on the stock exchange and invested in companies and other
businesses in the hope that they would become more successful and make
a profit. Rex Fortescue had bought Blackbird Mine when he was a young
man in the hope that it would produce a lot of gold and is one of the
investments that Percival thinks was foolish and risky.

The structure of the Police in England

The structure of the police force in Britain is as follows: the ranks, starting
at the lowest, are: Police Constable, Sergeant, Inspector, Chief Inspector,
Superintendent, Chief Superintendent. In A Pocket Full of Rye, Neele has
the rank of Detective Inspector which means that he was a member of
either the Special Branch or the CID (Criminal Investigations
Department), which trained policemen to deal with all kinds of criminal
investigations, including murder. Detectives do not usually wear uniform.
Hay, who is a sergeant, is junior to Neele.

The Assistant Commissioner is the third highest police officer in the

Metropolitan Police. Scotland Yard is actually the name of the head
office of the Metropolitan Police. It is in London.

Autopsies and inquests

In the UK, when a person dies, the cause of death has to be officially
certified by a doctor. If the doctor does not know why the person died -
for example if the death was sudden or suspicious - they ask for an
autopsy. This is a medical examination to find out the cause of death, and
is usually done by an expert doctor called a pathologist, who removes
the internal organs of the dead person and examines them.

100
 Cultural notes

In cases of sudden, violent or suspicious death, it is common to hold a

public inquiry called an inquest to find out why the person died. The
coroner is the person in charge of the inquest, and the official cause of
death is decided by a jury of twelve ordinary people chosen from the
local community.

At the inquest, the coroner and the jury hears medical evidence, as well as
evidence from any other people that may be relevant. The family of the
person who died and members of the public can also attend the inquest.

Once all the evidence has been heard, the jury gives its verdict - for
example natural death (e.g. a heart attack), accidental death, suicide or
murder.

Poisons: taxine and potassium cyanide

Agatha Christie worked as a pharmacist during the first and second
world wars, and therefore had considerable knowledge of drugs and
poisons. In the story the murderer uses two different types of poison.
The first was taxine, which comes from the yew tree. Yew is very
common in Britain, especially in the formal gardens of rich people,
such as the one at Yewtree Lodge, the home of the Fortescue family.
The plant has thick dark green leaves which can easily be cut into
different shapes, and gardeners often use it to make hedges and
borders. All parts of the tree are extremely poisonous, including the
red berries.

The second poison to be used in this story is potassium cyanide. When

cyanide is put into liquid, it acts extremely quickly and death can happen
in just a few seconds. At the time Agatha Christie was writing, it was
normal for people to keep a form of cyanide in the garden shed to put
on wasps’ nests to kill them all quickly. Now, it is against the law to
possess such poisons.

IOI
 Cultural notes

The British class system

At the time when A Pocket Full of Rye was written in 1953, Britain still had
a distinct class system with rules that everybody knew and followed,
although the Second World War had done a lot to make these rules more
relaxed. The upper classes owned land, had a lot of power and did not
usually work for a living unless they were involved in politics, diplomacy
or the military as very senior officers.

The middle classes were educated people who had to work for a living -
they had professions in the law, medicine, education, the Church or, like
Rex Fortescue, were in business, dealing with stocks and shares,
investments and sometimes riskier projects. Sometimes businessmen like
Rex Fortescue made a lot of money very quickly, and tried to behave in
the same way that the upper classes did, creating a new social class,
called the nouveaux riches or newly rich. Agatha Christie suggested
throughout A Pocket Full of Rye that the Fortescue’s belonged to this
new class: Yewtree Lodge is described as being decorated expensively,
but without taste; Adele has a very expensive sports car, the Rolls Bentley,
which previously only the aristocratic upper class could afford - she also
has a fake antique desk; Miss Marple is surprised when she meets Patricia
because she obviously comes from a different (upper) class and had
been married to a Lord.

The working classes had limited education, leaving school at the age of 14.
Many worked in the houses of the wealthy like the Fortescues and there
were several servants. Some lived in the house, some lived nearby. Servants
included a butler - Crump; and housekeeper - Miss Dove; who were both
in charge of the other servants: a cook - Mrs Crump; a housemaid who
would do the rough cleaning; and a parlourmaid, too - Gladys, and there
would usually be a gardener. Miss Marple was a kind woman who liked to
help people. She found girls who were orphans or homeless and trained
them to be parlourmaids, like Gladys, or other household servants.

102
 Cultural notes

The Cold War

The Cold War was a period of conflict and tension lasting approximately
forty years. It was between mainly the USSR, which was communist, and
the Western world, led by the USA which was capitalist. The USA’s aim
was to stop the spread of communism after the end of the Second World
War. Anybody who was even suspected of having communist ideals was
viewed with great suspicion. The fact that Elaine Fortescue wanted to
marry a man who had ‘communist ideas’ was totally unacceptable to her
family and that’s why her father, Rex, threatened to stop supporting her
if she married him.

Truth drugs
When this story was written, there was considerable interest in a new
kind of drug which would make people tell the truth. The newspapers
printed stories about how both the Russian and American governments
had caught spies by giving them ‘truth drugs’.

Wills and inheritance

A will is a legal document that describes how the money and property
that someone leaves when they die is to be distributed to relatives and
other people. Servants sometimes received a sum of money in a will. It
was very unusual for a person with a fortune not to state where they
wanted their money to go. It was therefore of great importance to the
children and relatives of a rich person to know the details of their will.
Wills were usually made in a solicitor’s office but not always. To be legal,
the signing of the will had to be witnessed, i.e. seen, by two people
(usually not relatives) who knew the person writing the will.

Holiday camps
In the years after the Second World War holiday camps became very
popular. Until then, many working class people never had holidays. These
camps weren’t expensive; you paid a fixed amount for accommodation,

103
 Cultural notes

food and entertainment and working class people like the parlourmaid
Gladys in the story could afford a week’s holiday. Holiday camps were not
uncomfortable: there was plenty of food, they were warm, and there was
endless hot water for baths - still a luxury for many British people at that
time. There was always a lot of things for people to do, even when it
rained non-stop for a whole week. They played sports and games,
watched comedians, listened to live music and danced.

Nursery rhymes
These are songs or poems for young children, often with actions added
to them to make them more enjoyable and fun. Many of them are
hundreds of years old, but these are mostly forgotten now. A Pocket Full
O f Rye gets its name from a nursery rhyme called Sing a Song of
Sixpence.

104
 G lo ssa ry

Key
n = noun
v = verb
phr v = phrasal verb
adj = adjective
adv = adverb
excl = exclamation
exp = expression

accomplice (n)
a person who helps to commit a crime

accuse (v)
to tell someone that you believe they did something wrong or dishonest

adultery (n)
being married and having sex with someone who you are not married to

affairs (n)
events or an important or interesting situation

alibi (n)
proof that you were somewhere else when a crime was committed,
showing why you can’t be guilty of a crime

analysis (n)
the process of examining something in order to find out what it consists of

anti-social (adj)
not liking to be with other people

anxious (adj)
nervous, worried, concerned; wanting to do something very much

105
 Glossary

arsenic (n)
a very powerful poison

Assistant Commissioner (n)

a high-ranking police officer (see Cultural notes)

autopsy (n)
the examination of a dead body by a doctor in order to discover the
cause of death (see Cultural notes)

bankruptcy (n)
the situation where a person or company cannot pay their debts

be under someone’s spell (exp)

to be influenced by, and do what someone wants you to do

be up to something (phr v)
to do or be planning to do something slightly bad

behind someone's back (expr)

doing something, usually bad, without someone knowing about it

bequest (n)
money or property which you legally leave to someone when you die

berries (n)
small round fruit that grow on a bush or a tree

birth certificate (n)

a document that shows your parents’ names and when and where you
were born

bitterness (n)
a sharp and often slightly unpleasant taste

blackbird (n)
a bird which is commonly found in Europe and America

106
 Glossary

blackmail (n)
the action of threatening to do something unpleasant to someone
unless they do what you want them to do

blame (v)
to say that you think someone is responsible for doing something bad

break off (phr v)

to stop talking before you have said everything you were going to say

bring up (phr v)
to raise a child

Broadmoor (n)
a high-security hospital for criminals who are not sane enough to go to
prison

bully (n)
a person who uses their strength or power to hurt or frighten you

bully (v)
to use strength or power to hurt or frighten another person

bush (n)
a plant which is like a very small tree

business (n)
an activity, situation or series of events

butler (n)
the most important male servant in a wealthy house

capitalist (n)
someone who has and controls a lot of money and uses it to make more
money

107
 Glossary

case (n)
a crime or mystery that the police are investigating

cereal(n)
a food made from grain, usually mixed with milk and eaten for
breakfast

cheat (v)
to treat someone unfairly and not give them what they should have

cheque (n)
a printed form on which you write an amount of money and who it is to
be paid to

city man (n)

someone who works with finance and investments

clothes peg (n)

a small wooden object that you use to hang wet clothes onto a washing
line to dry

clue (n)
something that helps you find the answer to a puzzle or mystery

coincidence (n)
when two or more similar or related events occur at the same time by
chance

cold-blooded (adj)
without showing pity or emotion

collar (n)
the part of a piece of clothing which fits round the neck and is usually
folded over

comfortingly (adv)
doing something in a gentle way that makes people feel calm

108
 Glossary

communist (adj)
believing in the political system where nobody owns private property
and the government controls the production of all food and goods
confess (v)
to admit doing something that is wrong or that you are ashamed of
confirm (v)
to show that what you believe is definitely true
criminal prosecution (n)
when someone is judged for a crime in a court of law
crooked (adj)
dishonest
cruel (adj)
deliberately causing pain or worry
cuff (n)
the end part of a sleeve
curious (adj)
being interested in something and wanting to know more about it
cyanide (n)
a deadly poison (see Cultural notes)
dainty (adj)
small, delicate, or pretty
damp (adj)
slightly wet
death duties (n)
the taxes you have to pay when you inherit money or property
deceased (n)
a formal word for a person who has recently died

109
 Glossary

deliberately (adv)
doing something because you mean to do it

deny (v)
to say that something is not true

depressed (adj)
feeling sad and unable to enjoy anything because your situation is
difficult and unpleasant

Detective Inspector (n)

a fairly high-ranking police officer (see Cultural notes)

dickey bird (n)

the word young children use for a bird

doubtful (adj)
feeling uncertain about something

dove (n)
a white bird, often used to suggest peace

evidence (n)
information from documents, objects, or witnesses, which is used in a
court of law to try to prove something

fake (adj)
not real

fearless (adj)
not afraid

fever (n)
the state where your temperature is higher than usual because you are ill

firm (n)
a business selling or producing something
 Glossary

footprint (n)
the mark of a person’s foot or shoe left on a surface

foreign mission (n)

a group of people who have been sent to a foreign country to do an
official task

forge (v)
to copy a banknote, a document, or a painting, to make it look real

fortune (n)
a very large amount of money

frown (v)
to move your eyebrows together because you are annoyed, worried, or
thinking

gambling (n)
betting money on the result of a game, a race, or competition

get rid of (exp)

to remove

glamorous (adj)
being more attractive and exciting than normal

glimpse (n)
a brief and not very clear sight of something

grain (n)
a seed from a cereal crop like wheat, rice or rye

grief (n)
the sad feeling you have when someone you care about dies

grin (v)
to smile widely

III
 Glossary

guilty (adj)
having committed a crime or offence

guilty conscience (n)

feeling guilty because you know you have done something wrong

gymkhana (n)
a competition involving people on horses racing and jumping

hang (v)
to kill a person as punishment for a crime, by tying a rope around their
neck and removing the support from under their feet

hedge (n)
a row of bushes along the edge of a garden, field, or road

hesitate (v)
to pause slightly, usually because you are uncertain, embarrassed, or
worried about doing something

hold a grudge (exp)

to have unfriendly feelings towards someone because they have harmed
you in the past

horse race (n)

where horses run races and people gamble on which one is going to win

household (n)
all the people in a family or group who live together in a house

housemaid (n)
a female servant who does the cleaning and other work in someone’s house

How dare you! (excl)

used when you are very shocked and angry about something that
someone has done
 Glossary

inherit (v)
to receive money or property from someone who has died
inheritance (n)
money or property which you receive from someone when they die
innocent (adj)
if someone is innocent, they did not commit a crime which they have
been accused of
inquest (n)
a meeting where evidence is heard about someone’s death to find out
why they died
inquiry (n)
the process of investigating something to get information about it
insane (adj)
mentally ill and not able to behave normally and reasonably
investigation (n)
finding out the truth about a crime
investment (n)
money that is used in a way that you hope will increase its value, for
example by buying shares or property
justice (n)
fairness in the way that people are treated
kettle (n)
a covered container that you use for boiling water
killed in action (phr)
killed while fighting in a war
knitting (n)
something, such as a piece of clothing, that is being made from wool
using two long needles

113
 Glossary

late (adj)
used to talk about someone who is dead

loyalty (n)
the feeling of friendship, support, or duty

make a living (exp)

to work to earn the money that you need to live

master (n)
an old-fashioned word for the man (for example, the owner of a large
house) that a servant works for

mine (n)
a place where deep holes or tunnels are dug under the ground in order
to find things like gold, coal and diamonds

mistrust (v)
not trusting someone or something

morals (n)
beliefs about right and wrong behaviour

motive (n)
the reason for doing something

mud (n)
a sticky mixture of earth and water

nip off (phr v)

to remove a small part of something

nonsense (n)
something that you think is untrue or silly

nursery rhyme (n)

a short rhyme for young children, often sung

114
 Glossary

nylons (n)
an old-fashioned word for stockings
objection (n)
when you do not like or agree with something
orphan (n)
a child whose parents have died
orphanage (n)
a place where orphans are looked after
outrageous (adj)
shocking or unacceptable
pantry (n)
a small room or a cupboard where food is kept
parlour (n)
an old-fashioned word for a room with comfortable chairs used for
meeting guests
parlourmaid (n)
a female servant in a big house who serves food at the dinner table
passionately (adv)
having very strong feelings about something or a strong belief in
something
patience (n)
a card game for one person
permission (n)
if you have permission to do something, you are allowed to do it
persuade (v)
to get someone to do something, usually by making them believe it is a
good idea

115
 Glossary

pneumonia (n)
a serious disease which affects your lungs and makes it difficult for you
to breathe

poison (v)
to give people or animals something that harms or kills them if they
swallow it

pub (n)
a building where people can buy and drink alcoholic drinks

reckless (adj), recklessly (adv)

doing something in a dangerous way, not caring about what might
happen as a result

reference (n)
a letter written by someone who knows you well, which describes your
character and abilities, usually to help you get a job

reputation (n)
the opinion that people have of you

respectable (adj)
morally correct

revenge (n)
the act of hurting someone who has hurt you

rhyme or reason (exp)

a logical or sensible reason for something

Rolls Bentley (n)

an expensive sports car (see Cultural notes)

routine (adj)
activities done regularly as a normal part of a job or process

116
 Glossary

rye (n)
a cereal grown in cold countries, that is used to make flour, bread, or
other foods

sample (n)
a small amount of something that is examined and analyzed
scientifically

sanatorium (n)
a place that provides medical treatment and rest

sane (adj)
being able to think and behave normally and reasonably, and not being
mentally ill

saucer (n)
a small, curved plate on which you put a cup

scapegoat (n)
someone who is blamed or punished for something that is not their
fault, so that the guilty people escape blame or punishment

scene (n)
the place where a crime has happened

scone (n)
a small, round cake usually eaten with butter and jam or honey

Scotland Yard (n)

the main offices of the London police force that deals with serious
crimes (see Cultural notes)

sergeant (n)
a police officer of low rank (see Cultural notes)

sharply (adv)
doing something in a disapproving, unfriendly or sudden way

117
 Glossary

shiver (n)
a slight shake of the body because you are cold or frightened

shrug your shoulders (exp)

to raise your shoulders to show that you do not know something

significant (adj)
having a special or important meaning

sinful (adj)
wicked or immoral

slander (n)
an untrue spoken statement about someone which is intended to
damage their reputation

sly (adj)
clever at deceiving people

solicitor (n)
a lawyer who gives legal advice and prepares legal documents and cases

stand up to (phr v)
to defend yourself against the attacks or demands of a more powerful
person

statement (n)
something that you say or write which gives information in a formal way

stepmother (n)
the woman who has married your father after the death or divorce of
your mother
stocking (n)
an item of women’s clothing which fits closely over their feet and legs,
usually made of nylon or silk
 Glossary

stocks and shares (n)

small parts of a company that are bought and sold (see Cultural notes)

strangle (v)
to kill someone by squeezing their throat so tightly that they are unable
to breathe

stroke (n)
when a blood vessel in someone’s brain bursts or gets blocked, which
may kill them or cause one side of their body to be paralysed

suspect (n)
a person you believe has done something dishonest or illegal

suspect (v)
to believe that something dishonest or unpleasant has been done

suspicious (adj)
something about a person which makes you think that they are involved
in a crime or a dishonest activity

swear [swore] (v)

to use rude language at something or someone; if you swear that
something is true, you say very firmly that it is true

Tatler (n)
a magazine commenting on the lives and events of rich and fashionable
people

telegram (n)
a message that is sent by telegraph and then printed and delivered to
someone’s home or office

telling-ofF (n)
what you say when you tell someone they have done something
wrong

ny
 Glossary

theory (n)
your own opinion about something which you cannot prove but which
you think is true
threatening (adj)
likely to harm or hurt
tragedy (n)
an extremely sad event or situation

treasures (n)
objects that are valuable to someone
triumph (n)
a feeling of great satisfaction when you get something you want
trust fund (n)
money that is kept for someone and is used to make more money by
investing it
turn up (phr v)
to arrive unexpectedly

tweed (adj)
a thick woollen cloth, often made from different coloured threads
underestimate (v)
to believe that someone is not as clever or as good as they are
uneasy (adj)
feeling that something is wrong

unreasonable (adj)
behaving in a way that is not fair or sensible

uranium (n)
a metal that is used to produce nuclear energy and weapons

120
 Glossary

victim (n)
someone who has been hurt or killed

voluntary (adj)
doing a particular task without being forced to do it

vulnerable (adj)
being weak and without protection, and easily hurt physically or
emotionally as a result

weapon (n)
an object such as a gun, knife, or missile

weedkiller (n)
a chemical that is used to kill plants you don’t want

wicked (adj), wickedness (n)

something that is morally wrong or extremely bad

widow (n)
a woman whose husband has died

will (n)
a document in which you say what you want to happen to your money
and property when you die (see Cultural notes)

yew tree (n)

a tree found in Europe and America (see Cultural notes)

121
 COTLINS ENGTISH READERS

Tnr Aclrnr CuRrsrrr Senres

The Mysterious Affair at Styles

The Man in the Brown Suit
The Murder of Roger Ackroyd
The Murder at the Vicange
Peril at End House
Why Didn't They Ask Evans?
Death in the Clouds
Appointment with Death
NorM?
The Moving Finger
Sparkling Cyanide
Crooked House
They Came to Baghdad
They Do lt With Mirrors
A Pocket Full of Rye
After the Funeral
Destination Unknown
Hickory Dickory Dock
4.50 From Paddington
Cat Among the Pigeons

Visit www.collinselt.com/agathachristie for language

activities and teacherl notes based on this story
"' *ffiffiw rffiffifu
-,,,,
ffewffi

r sBN 978-0-00-745168-5

, ll[ x[ilffillllllllllillll,