Cat Among the Pigeons

Cat Among the Pigeons
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Unpleasant things are going on in an exclusive school for girls – things like murder…Late one night, two teachers investigate a mysterious flashing light in the sports pavilion, while the rest of the school sleeps. There, among the lacrosse sticks, they stumble upon the body of the unpopular games mistress – shot through the heart from point blank range.The school is thrown into chaos when the ‘cat’ strikes again. Unfortunately, schoolgirl Julia Upjohn knows too much. In particular, she knows that without Hercule Poirot’s help, she will be the next victim…

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Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by

Collins 1959

Copyright © 1959 Agatha Christie Ltd.

All rights reserved.

www.agathachristie.com

Ebook Edition 2010 ISBN: 9780007422210

Version: 2017-04-12

The moral right of the author is asserted

All rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks.

For Stella and Larry Kirwan

Contents

7 Straws in the Wind

8 Murder

9 Cat Among the Pigeons

10 Fantastic Story

11 Conference

12 New Lamps for Old

13 Catastrophe

14 Miss Chadwick Lies Awake

15 Murder Repeats Itself

16 The Riddle of the Sports Pavilion

17 Aladdin’s Cave

18 Consultation

19 Consultation Continued

20 Conversation

21 Gathering Threads

22 Incident in Anatolia

23 Showdown

24 Poirot Explains

25 Legacy

E-book Extras

About Agatha Christie

The Agatha Christie Collection

www.agathachristie.com

About the Publisher

It was the opening day of the summer term at Meadowbank school. The late afternoon sun shone down on the broad gravel sweep in front of the house. The front door was flung hospitably wide, and just within it, admirably suited to its Georgian proportions, stood Miss Vansittart, every hair in place, wearing an impeccably cut coat and skirt.

Some parents who knew no better had taken her for the great Miss Bulstrode herself, not knowing that it was Miss Bulstrode’s custom to retire to a kind of holy of holies to which only a selected and privileged few were taken.

To one side of Miss Vansittart, operating on a slightly different plane, was Miss Chadwick, comfortable, knowledgeable, and so much a part of Meadowbank that it would have been impossible to imagine Meadowbank without her. It had never been without her. Miss Bulstrode and Miss Chadwick had started Meadowbank school together. Miss Chadwick wore pince-nez, stooped, was dowdily dressed, amiably vague in speech, and happened to be a brilliant mathematician.

Various welcoming words and phrases, uttered graciously by Miss Vansittart, floated through the house.

‘How do you do, Mrs Arnold? Well, Lydia, did you enjoy your Hellenic cruise? What a wonderful opportunity! Did you get some good photographs?

‘Yes, Lady Garnett, Miss Bulstrode had your letter about the Art Classes and everything’s been arranged.

‘How are you, Mrs Bird?…Well? I don’t think Miss Bulstrode will have time today to discuss the point. Miss Rowan is somewhere about if you’d like to talk to her about it?

‘We’ve moved your bedroom, Pamela. You’re in the far wing by the apple tree…

‘Yes, indeed, Lady Violet, the weather has been terrible so far this spring. Is this your youngest? What is your name? Hector? What a nice aeroplane you have, Hector.

‘Très heureuse de vous voir, Madame. Ah, je regrette, ce ne serait pas possible, cette après-midi. Mademoiselle Bulstrode est tellement occupée.

‘Good afternoon, Professor. Have you been digging up some more interesting things?’

II

In a small room on the first floor, Ann Shapland, Miss Bulstrode’s secretary, was typing with speed and efficiency. Ann was a nice-looking young woman of thirty-five, with hair that fitted her like a black satin cap. She could be attractive when she wanted to be but life had taught her that efficiency and competence often paid better results and avoided painful complications. At the moment she was concentrating on being everything that a secretary to the headmistress of a famous girls’ school should be.

From time to time, as she inserted a fresh sheet in her machine, she looked out of the window and registered interest in the arrivals.

‘Goodness!’ said Ann to herself, awed, ‘I didn’t know there were so many chauffeurs left in England!’

Then she smiled in spite of herself, as a majestic Rolls moved away and a very small Austin of battered age drove up. A harassed-looking father emerged from it with a daughter who looked far calmer than he did.

As he paused uncertainly, Miss Vansittart emerged from the house and took charge.



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