The Case of the Discontented Soldier: An Agatha Christie Short Story

Wilbraham considered. ‘Fair enough,’ he said at last. ‘I agree. I’ll give you a cheque now.’

The transaction was completed. Mr Parker Pyne pressed a buzzer on his desk.

‘It is now one o’clock,’ he said. ‘I am going to ask you to take a young lady out to lunch.’ The door opened. ‘Ah, Madeleine, my dear, let me introduce Major Wilbraham, who is going to take you out to lunch.’

Wilbraham blinked slightly, which was hardly to be wondered at. The girl who entered the room was dark, languorous, with wonderful eyes and long black lashes, a perfect complexion and a voluptuous scarlet mouth. Her exquisite clothes set off the swaying grace of her figure. From head to foot she was perfect.

‘Er – delighted,’ said Major Wilbraham.

‘Miss de Sara,’ said Mr Parker Pyne.

‘How very kind of you,’ murmured Madeleine de Sara.

‘I have your address here,’ announced Mr Parker Pyne. ‘Tomorrow morning you will receive my further instructions.’

Major Wilbraham and the lovely Madeleine departed.

It was three o’clock when Madeleine returned.

Mr Parker Pyne looked up. ‘Well?’ he demanded.

Madeleine shook her head. ‘Scared of me,’ she said. ‘Thinks I’m a vamp.’

‘I thought as much,’ said Mr Parker Pyne. ‘You carried out my instructions?’

‘Yes. We discussed the occupants of the other tables freely. The type he likes is fair-haired, blue-eyed, slightly anaemic, not too tall.’

‘That should be easy,’ said Mr Pyne. ‘Get me Schedule B and let me see what we have in stock at present.’ He ran his finger down a list, finally stopping at a name. ‘Freda Clegg. Yes, I think Freda Clegg will do excellently. I had better see Mrs Oliver about it.’

The next day Major Wilbraham received a note, which read:

On Monday morning next at eleven o’clock go to Eaglemont, Friars Lane, Hampstead, and ask for Mr Jones. You will represent yourself as coming from the Guava Shipping Company.

Obediently on the following Monday (which happened to be Bank Holiday), Major Wilbraham set out for Eaglemont, Friars Lane. He set out, I say, but he never got there. For before he got there, something happened.

All the world and his wife seemed to be on their way to Hampstead. Major Wilbraham got entangled in crowds, suffocated in the tube and found it hard to discover the whereabouts of Friars Lane.

Friars Lane was a cul-de-sac, a neglected road full of ruts, with houses on either side standing back from the road. They were largish houses which had seen better days and had been allowed to fall into disrepair.