4:50 From Paddington: A Miss Marple Mystery (Miss Marple Mysteries)
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The Queen of Mystery has come to Harper Collins! Agatha Christie, the acknowledged mistress of suspense—creator of indomitable sleuth Miss Marple, meticulous Belgian detective Hercule Poirot, and so many other unforgettable characters—brings her entire oeuvre of ingenious whodunits, locked room mysteries, and perplexing puzzles to Harper Paperbacks. In 4:50 From Paddington, a woman in one train witnesses a murder occurring in another passing one…and only Miss Marple believes her story.
there. Everyone is crying out for efficient domestic help— I should not imagine it would be difficult.” “No, I don’t suppose it would be difficult.” “I understand that Mr. Crackenthorpe is said locally to be somewhat of a miser. If you accept a low salary, I will make it up to the proper figure which should, I think, be rather more than the current rate.” “Because of the difficulty?” “Not the difficulty so much as the danger. It might, you know, be dangerous. It’s only right to warn you of
unexpectedly to France.” “Well?” “The police think that this woman who was killed—was French.” “They do, do they? She looked more of an English type to me, but one can’t really judge. What’s worrying you then, is that just possibly the dead woman might be your brother’s girl?” “Yes.” “I think it’s most unlikely,” said Dr. Quimper, adding: “But all the same, I understand what you feel.” “I’m wondering if I ought not to tell the police about—about it all. Cedric and the others say it’s quite
correct answer, Craddock reflected ruefully. One other possibility had to be considered—raised by the casual remark that Anna had once referred to having an English husband. Had that husband been Edmund Crackenthorpe? It seemed unlikely, considering the word picture of Anna that had been given him by those who knew her. What was much more probable was that Anna had at one time known the girl Martine sufficiently intimately to be acquainted with the necessary details. It might have been Anna
Emma steps up the food. Result—a nasty attack of gastro-enteritis. The symptoms were consistent with that diagnosis.” Craddock persisted. “I see. You were quite satisfied? You were not at all—shall we say—puzzled?” “All right. All right. Yes, I was Yours Truly Puzzled! Does that please you?” “It interests me,” said Craddock. “What actually did you suspect—or fear?” “Gastric cases vary, of course, but there were certain indications that would have been, shall we say, more consistent with
be from the girl Martine whom Edmund Crackenthorpe had talked of marrying. Emma had told Dr. Quimper all about her brother, you see. Then, when the moment arose he encouraged her to go to the police with her story. He wanted the dead woman identified as Martine. I think he may have heard that inquiries were being made by the Paris police about Anna Stravinska, and so he arranged to have a postcard come from her from Jamaica. “It was easy for him to arrange to meet his wife in London, to tell her