Appleby's Answer Read Online Free Page A

first-class carriages. She would take a taxi to her well-appointed ladies’ club (another fairly recent index of status and prosperity, this), where she would find her friend and fellow-writer, Barbara Vanderpump. Miss Vanderpump was the authoress of historical novels, but had been admitted to the Colloquium on the strength of dealings with certain deeply mysterious events associated with the career of Cardinal Richelieu. So they would go together to the Diner Dupin, having first severally applied themselves with proper concentration to the grandes toilettes they had elected for the occasion. It was probable that they would even have a glass of sherry before setting out, thus ensuring that they should be one up and at their liveliest in the event of any such crisis as having, for example, Sir John Appleby presented to them early in the proceedings.
    All this was putting Miss Pringle in good humour, for she was a nice woman, finding contentment in simple things. She was even inclined to find contentment in Captain Bulkington of ‘Kandahar’, Long Canings, Wilts – although whether he was a simple thing was not exactly clear to her.
    â€˜Some devilish-queer experiences in India,’ Captain Bulkington was saying. ‘In the old days, that is. Might work up into something. As a thriller, I mean. Anybody ever offer you ideas – likely plots, and so on?’
    â€˜Oh, quite frequently. A great many people – and sometimes most surprising people – believe they know how to commit an undetectable murder. The trouble is, they quite often are undetectable.’
    â€˜But isn’t that what you want?’
    â€˜Of course not. Think of poor Catfish.’
    â€˜Catfish?’
    â€˜The Detective-Inspector you’ve been reading about in my story. He has to solve his crimes, hasn’t he? So they just mustn’t be undetectable. It would never do. That’s the point that Timothy misses.’
    â€˜Timothy Catfish?’
    â€˜No, no. Timothy is my nephew, and he has some very clever young scientists among his friends. They often bring me ideas that are no good at all. Either one would have to offer such obvious clues that the murder would be completely boring, or there could be no means of getting at it whatever. You see?’
    â€˜I believe I do.’ Captain Bulkington was now (as novelists say) all attention; in fact he had bent on Miss Pringle a fascinated stare. ‘Where does this Timothy live?’
    â€˜Timothy lives in London.’
    â€˜I mean, what is his address?’ The Captain had actually produced a pocket-diary. ‘I’d like to look him up.’
    Miss Pringle now saw that her momentary, and seemingly bizarre, suspicion had been correct. Captain Bulkington was mad. She was so convinced of this that she glanced up nervously at the communic-ation-cord. A notice beside it informed her that the penalty for its improper use had been raised from £5 to £20. But there are occasions upon which one has to face up boldly to the soaring cost of living. Miss Pringle felt she ought to risk it, and pull. Her story would be an improbable one, but at least she would have gained the protection of the guard. She half-rose, and then sank back in her seat.
    â€˜Timothy,’ she heard herself saying firmly, ‘is at present abroad.’
    â€˜A pity. He sounds a nice lad.’ Quite amiably, Captain Bulkington had put the pocket-diary away again. ‘May I ask whether you have ever collaborated with another writer?’
    â€˜I never have.’
    â€˜It might be quite an idea, wouldn’t you say? Labour-saving, and so on. One partner provides the ideas, and the other sweats it out on the typewriter.’
    â€˜I am sure that I should not myself take satisfaction in such a division of labour.’
    â€˜Or perhaps one do the whole job, and the other simply provide the working capital.’
    â€˜The working capital?’
    â€˜Well –