The Secret of Chimneys by Agatha Christie Page B

usual household arrangements, and the fact that you were at Ranelagh this afternoon. It seems an absurd question, but have you any enemies, Mrs Revel?'
    'Of course I haven't - not that kind, anyway.'
    'The question is,' said Anthony, what are we going to do now? There are two courses open to us. A: ring up the police, tell the whole story, and trust to your unassailable position in the world and your hitherto blameless life. B: an attempt on my part to dispose successfully of the body. Naturally my private inclinations urge me to B. I've always wanted to see if I couldn't conceal a crime with the necessary cunning, but have had a squeamish objection to shedding blood. On the whole, I expect A's the soundest. Then here's a sort of bowdlerized A. Ring up the police, etc, but suppress the pistol and the blackmailing letters - that is, if they are on him still.'
    Anthony ran rapidly through the dead man's pockets.
    'He's been stripped clean,' he announced. 'There's not a thing on him. There'll be dirty work at the crossroads over those letters yet. Hullo, what's this? Hole in the lining - something got caught there, torn roughly out, and a scrap of paper left behind.'
    He drew out the scrap of paper a he spoke, and brought it over to the light. Virginia joined him.
    'Pity we haven't got the rest of it,' he muttered. 'Chimneys 11.45 Thursday - Sounds like an appointment.'
    'Chimneys?' cried Virginia. 'How extraordinary!'
    'Why extraordinary? Rather high-toned for such a low fellow?'
    'I'm going to Chimneys this evening. At least I was.'
    Anthony wheeled round on her.
    'What's that? Say that again.'
    'I was going to Chimneys this evening,' repeated Virginia.
    Anthony stared at her.
    'I begin to see. At least, I may be wrong - but it's an idea. Suppose someone wanted badly to prevent your going to Chimneys?'
    'My cousin George Lomax does,' said Virginia with a smile. 'But I can't seriously suspect George of murder.'
    Anthony did not smile. He was lost in thought.
    'If you ring up the police, it's goodbye to any idea of getting to Chimneys today - or even tomorrow. And I should like you to go to Chimneys. I fancy it will disconcert our unknown friends. Mrs Revel, will you put yourself in my hands?'
    'It's to be Plan B, then?'
    'It's to be Plan B. The first thing is to get that maid of yours out of the house. Can you manage that?'
    'Easily.'
    Virginia went out in the hall and called up the stairs. 'Elise. Elise.'
    'Madame?'
    Anthony heard s rapid colloquy, and then the front door opened and shut. Virginia came back into the room.
    'She's gone. I sent her for some special scent - told her the shop in question was open until eight. It won't be, of course. She's to follow after me by the next train without coming back here.'
    'Good,' said Anthony approvingly. We can now proceed to the disposal of the body. It's a timeworn method, but I'm afraid I shall have to ask you if there's such a thing in the house as a trunk?'
    'Of course there is. Come down to the basement and take your choice.'
    There was a variety of trunks in the basement. Anthony selected a solid affair of suitable size.
    'I'll attend to this part of it,' he said tactfully. 'You go upstairs and get ready to start.'
    Virginia obeyed. She slipped out of her tennis kit, put on a soft brown travelling dress and a delightful little orange hat, and came down to find Anthony waiting in the hall with a neatly strapped trunk beside him.
    'I should like to tell you the story of my life,' he remarked, 'but it's going to be rather a busy evening. Now this is what you've got to do. Call a taxi, have your luggage put on it, including the trunk. Drive to Paddington. There have the trunk put in the Left Luggage Office. I shall be on the platform. As you pass me, drop the cloakroom ticket. I will pick it up and return it to you, but in reality I shall keep it. Go on to Chimneys, and leave the rest to me.'
    'It's awfully good of you,' said Virginia. 'It's really dreadful of me saddling a