The Sittaford Mystery by Agatha Christie Page B

Mr Enderby, and taking her hand he squeezed it with fervor.
    “But you know,” he went on with a journalistic reaction, “my time is not entirely my own. I mean, I have got to go where I am sent, and all that.”
    “Yes,” said Emily. “I have thought of that, and that you see is where I come in. Surely I am what you call a 'scoop,' aren't I? You can do an interview with me every day, you can make me say anything that you think your readers will like. Jim Pearson's fiancйe. Girl who believes passionately in his innocence. Reminiscences of his childhood which she supplies. I don't really know about his childhood you know,” she added, “but that doesn't matter.”
    “I think,” said Mr Enderby, “that you are marvelous. You really are marvelous.”
    “And then,” said Emily pursuing her advantage, “I have access naturally to Jim's relations. I can get you in there as a friend of mine, where quite possibly you might have the door shut in your face any other way.”
    “Don't I know that only too well,” said Mr Enderby with feeling, recalling various rebuffs of the past.
    A glorious prospect opened out before him. He had been in luck over this affair all round. First the lucky chance of the football competition, and now this.
    “It's a deal,” he said fervently.
    “Good,” said Emily becoming brisk and businesslike. “Now, what's the first move?”
    “I'm going up to Sittaford this afternoon.”
    He explained the fortunate circumstance which had put him in such an advantageous position with regard to Major Burnaby. “Because, mind you, he is the kind of old buffer that hates newspaper men like poison. But you can't push a chap in the face who has just handed you 5,000 pounds, can you?”
    “It would be awkward,” said Emily. “Well, if you are going to Sittaford, I am coming with you.”
    “Splendid,” said Mr Enderby. “I don't know, though, if there's anywhere to stay up there. As far as I know there's only Sittaford House and a few odd cottages belonging to people like Burnaby.”
    “We shall find something,” said Emily. “I always find something.”
    Mr Enderby could well believe that. Emily had the kind of personality that soars triumphantly over all obstacles.
    They had arrived by now at the ruined castle, but paying no attention to it, they sat down on a piece of wall in the so-called sunshine and Emily proceeded to develop her ideas.
    "I am looking at this, Mr Enderby, in an absolutely unsentimental and businesslike way. You've got to take it from me to begin with that Jim didn't do the murder. I'm not saying that simply because I am in love with him, or believe in his beautiful character or anything like that. It's just - well - knowledge. You see I have been on my own pretty well since I was sixteen. I have never come into contact with many women and I know very little about them, but I know really a lot about men. And unless a girl can size up a man pretty accurately, and know what's she's got to deal with, she will never get on. I have got on. I work as a mannequin at Lucie's, and I can tell you, Mr Enderby, that to arrive there is a feat.
    “Well, as I was saying, I can size up men pretty accurately. Jim is rather a weak character in many ways. I am not sure,” said Emily, forgetting for a moment her rфle of admirer of strong men, “that that's not why I like him. The feeling that I can run him and make something of him. There are quite a lot of - well - even criminal things that I can imagine him doing if pushed to it - but not murder. He simply couldn't pick up a sandbag and hit an old man on the back of the neck with it. He would make a bosh shot and hit him in the wrong place if he did. He is a - he is a gentle creature, Mr Enderby. He doesn't even like killing wasps. He always tries to put them out of a window without hurting them and usually gets stung. However, it's no good my going on like this. You've got to take my word for it and start on the assumption that Jim is