The Witness for the Prosecution and Other Stories
Agatha Christie
Language: English
Pages: 272
ISBN: 0062094440
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
The Queen of Mystery has come to Harper Collins! Agatha Christie, the acknowledged mistress of suspense—creator of indomitable sleuth Miss Marple, meticulous Belgian detective Hercule Poirot, and so many other unforgettable characters—brings her entire oeuvre of ingenious whodunits, locked room mysteries, and perplexing puzzles to William Morrow Paperbacks. Witness for the Prosecution and Other Stories is a collection of eleven tantalizing tales of murder and other criminal pursuits—including the classic title story, basis for the 1957 Oscar-nominated Billy Wilder film starring Marlene Dietrich, Tyrone Power, and Charles Laughton.
prisoner sprang to his feet. His dismay was obvious and unforced. “My God! What are you saying? She left her money to me?” Mr. Mayherne nodded slowly. Vole sank down again, his head in his hands. “You pretend you know nothing of this will?” “Pretend? There’s no pretence about it. I knew nothing about it.” “What would you say if I told you that the maid, Janet Mackenzie, swears that you did know? That her mistress told her distinctly that she had consulted you in the matter, and told you of
up the hill, “I mean that there is something tangibly wrong; it’s not just an echo of the past. It has been coming on ever since we’ve been there. Every day it grows worse, Father is different, Mother is different, Charlotte is different.” Mortimer interposed. “Is Johnnie different?” he asked. Magdalen looked at him, a dawning appreciation in her eyes. “No,” she said, “now I come to think of it. Johnnie is not different. He is the only one who’s—who’s untouched by it all. He was untouched last
of the hair, and an occasional very slight movement of the hands that was distinctly foreign. A strange woman, very quiet. So quiet as to make one uneasy. From the very first Mr. Mayherne was conscious that he was up against something that he did not understand. “Now, my dear Mrs. Vole,” he began, “you must not give way—” He stopped. It was so very obvious that Romaine Vole had not the slightest intention of giving way. She was perfectly calm and composed. “Will you please tell me all about
surprise. He was not expecting a parcel of any kind. Returning to the sitting room with it, he cut the string. It was the liqueur set! “Damn!” said Anthony. Then he noticed that at the bottom of one of the glasses there was a tiny artificial rose. His mind flew back to the upper room in Kirk Street. “I do like you—yes, I do like you. You will remember that whatever happens, won’t you?” That was what she had said. Whatever happens . . . Did she mean— Anthony took hold of himself sternly.
office again. Habit, I suppose. My second husband left about four thousand pounds. I didn’t speculate with it this time; I invested it. Then, you see—” But she was interrupted. Gerald Martin, his face suffused with blood, half-choking, was pointing a shaking forefinger at her. “The coffee—my God! the coffee!” She stared at him. “I understand now why it was bitter. You devil! You’ve been up to your tricks again.” His hands gripped the arms of his chair. He was ready to spring upon her.