APocketFullofRye - (EPUB全文下载)

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A Pocket Full of Rye
A Miss Marple Mystery
Agatha Christie
Dedication
For Bruce Ingram who liked and published my first short stories
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
 
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
 
About the Author
The Agatha Christie Collection
Credits
Back Ad
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter One
It was Miss Somers’s turn to make the tea. Miss Somers was the newest and the most inefficient of the typists. She was no longer young and had a mild worried face like a sheep. The kettle was not quite boiling when Miss Somers poured the water onto the tea, but poor Miss Somers was never quite sure when a kettle was boiling. It was one of the many worries that afflicted her in life.
She poured out the tea and took the cups round with a couple of limp, sweet biscuits in each saucer.
Miss Griffith, the efficient head typist, a grey-haired martinet who had been with Consolidated Investments Trust for sixteen years, said sharply: “Water not boiling again, Somers!” and Miss Somers’s worried meek face went pink and she said, “Oh dear, I did think it was boiling this time.”
Miss Griffith thought to herself: “She’ll last for another month, perhaps, just while we’re so busy . . . But really! The mess the silly idiot made of that letter to Eastern Developments—a perfectly straightforward job, and always so stupid over the tea. If it weren’t so difficult to get hold of any intelligent typists—and the biscuit tin lid wasn’t shut tightly last time, either. Really—”
Like so many of Miss Griffith’s indignant inner communings the sentence went unfinished.
At that moment Miss Grosvenor sailed in to make Mr. Fortescue’s sacred tea. Mr. Fortescue had different tea, and different china and special biscuits. Only the kettle and the water from the cloakroom tap were the same. But on this occasion, being Mr. Fortescue’s tea, the water boiled. Miss Grosvenor saw to that.
Miss Grosvenor was an incredibly glamorous blonde. She wore an expensively cut little black suit and her shapely legs were encased in the very best and most expensive black-market nylons.
She sailed ............

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