Complete Short Stories of Miss Marple by Agatha Christie Page A

Copling's eyes twinkled more than ever. "Let me get it right Zarida, Psychic Reader of the Future."
    '"Oh Lord!" groaned George. "That's a new one, isn't it?"
    '"Quite new. I believe my predecessor, Nurse Carstairs, sent her along. Mrs Pritchard hasn't seen her yet She made me write, fixing an appointment for this afternoon."
    '"Well, at any rate, I shall get my golf," said George, and he went off with the kindliest feelings towards Zarida, the Reader of the Future.
    'On his return to the house, he found Mrs Pritchard in a state of great agitation. She was, as usual, lying on her invalid couch, and she had a bottle of smelling salts in her hand which she sniffed at frequent intervals.
    '"George," she exclaimed. "What did I tell you about this house? The moment I came into it, I felt there was something wrong! Didn't I tell you so at the time?"
    'Repressing his desire to reply, "You always do," George said, "No, I can't say I remember it."
    '"You never do remember anything that has to do with me. Men are all extraordinarily callous – but I really believe that you are even more insensitive than most."
    '"Oh, come now, Mary dear, that's not fair."
    '"Well, as I was telling you, this woman knew at once! She – she actually blenched – if you know what I mean – as she came in at the door, and she said; "There is evil here – evil and danger. I feel it.'"
    'Very unwisely George laughed.
    '"Well, you have had your money's worth this afternoon."
    'His wife closed her eyes and took a long sniff from her smelling bottle.
    '"How you hate me! You would jeer and laugh if I were dying."
    "George protested and after a minute or two she went on.
    '"You may laugh, but I shall tell you the whole thing. This house is definitely dangerous to me – the woman said so."
    'George's formerly kind feeling towards Zarida underwent a change. He knew his wife was perfectly capable of insisting on moving to a new house if the caprice got hold of her.
    '"What else did she say?" he asked.
    '"She couldn't tell me very much. She was so upset. One thing she did say. I had some violets in a glass. She pointed at them and cried out:
    '"Take those away. No blue flowers – never have blue flowers. Blue flowers me fatal to you – remember that."'
    '"And you know," added Mrs Pritchard, "I always have told you that blue as a colour is repellent to me. I feel a natural instinctive sort of warning against it"
    'George was much too wise to remark that he had never heard her say so before. Instead he asked what the mysterious Zarida was like. Mrs Pritchard entered with gusto upon a description.
    '"Black hair in coiled knobs over her ears – her eyes were half closed – great black rims round them – she had a black veil over her mouth and chin – and she spoke in a kind of singing voice with a marked foreign accent – Spanish, I think – "
    '"In fact all the usual stock-in-trade," said George cheerfully.
    'His wife immediately closed her eyes.
    '"I feel extremely ill," she said. "Ring for nurse. Unkindness upsets me, as you know only too well."
    'It was two days later that Nurse Copling came to George with a grave face.
    '"Will you come to Mrs Pritchard, please. She has had a letter which upsets her greatly."
    'He found his wife with the letter in her hand. She held it out to him.
    '"Read it," she said.
    'George read it. It was on heavily scented paper, and the writing was big and black.
    'I have seen the future. Be warned before it is too late. Beware of the Full Moon. The Blue Primrose means Warning; the Blue Hollyhock means Danger; the Blue Geranium means Death ...
    'Just about to burst out laughing, George caught Nurse Copling's eye. She made a quick warning gesture. He said rather awkwardly, "The woman's probably trying to frighten you, Mary. Anyway there aren't such things as blue primroses and blue geraniums."
    'But Mrs Pritchard began to cry and say her days were numbered. Nurse Copling came out with George upon the landing.
    '"Of all the silly