Death in the Clouds
A woman is killed by a poisoned dart in the enclosed confines of a commercial passenger plane…From seat No.9, Hercule Poirot was ideally placed to observe his fellow air passengers. Over to his right sat a pretty young woman, clearly infatuated with the man opposite; ahead, in seat No.13, sat a Countess with a poorly-concealed cocaine habit; across the gangway in seat No.8, a detective writer was being troubled by an aggressive wasp.What Poirot did not yet realize was that behind him, in seat No.2, sat the slumped, lifeless body of a woman.
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Death in the Clouds
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by
Collins 1935
Agatha Christie® Poirot® Death in the Cloudsâ¢
Copyright © 1935 Agatha Christie Limited. All rights reserved
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015
Title lettering by Ghost Design
Cover photograph © Kevin Mallet/Gallery Stock
Agatha Christie asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008129538
Ebook Edition © May 2015 ISBN: 9780007422272
Version: 2017-04-12
To Ormond Beadle
Passengers
Seat
No. 2 Madame Giselle
No. 4 James Ryder
No. 5 Monsieur Armand Dupont
No. 6 Monsieur Jean Dupont
No. 8 Daniel Clancy
No. 9 Hercule Poirot
No. 10 Doctor Bryant
No. 12 Norman Gale
No. 13 The Countess of Horbury
No. 16 Jane Grey
No. 17 The Hon. Venetia Kerr
Contents
CHAPTER 10: The Little Black Book
CHAPTER 18: In Queen Victoria Street
CHAPTER 19: Enter and Exit Mr Robinson
CHAPTER 22: Jane Takes a New Job
CHAPTER 24: A Broken Finger-Nail
The September sun beat down hotly on Le Bourget aerodrome as the passengers crossed the ground and climbed into the air liner Prometheus, due to depart for Croydon in a few minutesâ time.
Jane Grey was among the last to enter and take her seat, No. 16. Some of the passengers had already passed on through the centre door past the tiny pantry-kitchen and the two toilets to the front car. Most people were already seated. On the opposite side of the gangway there was a good deal of chatterâa rather shrill, high-pitched womanâs voice dominating it. Janeâs lips twisted slightly. She knew that particular type of voice so well.
âMy dearâitâs extraordinaryâno ideaâWhere, do you say? Juan les Pins? Oh, yes. NoâLe PinetâYes, just the same old crowdâBut of course letâs sit together. Oh, canât we? Whoâ? Oh, I seeâ¦â
And then a manâs voiceâforeign, polite:
ââWith the greatest of pleasure, Madame.â
Jane stole a glance out of the corner of her eye.
A little elderly man with large moustaches and an egg-shaped head was politely moving himself and his belongings from the seat corresponding to Janeâs on the opposite side of the gangway.
Jane turned her head slightly and got a view of the two women whose unexpected meeting had occasioned this polite action on the strangerâs part. The mention of Le Pinet had stimulated her curiosity, for Jane also had been at Le Pinet.
She remembered one of the women perfectlyâremembered how she had seen her lastâat the baccarat table, her little hands clenching and unclenching themselvesâher delicately made-up Dresden china face flushing and paling alternately. With a little effort, Jane thought, she could have remembered her name. A friend had mentioned itâhad said: âSheâs a peeress, she is, but not one of the proper onesâshe was only some chorus girl or other.â
Deep scorn in the friendâs voice. That had been Maisie, who had a first-class job as a masseuse âtaking offâ flesh.
The other woman, Jane thought in passing, was the âreal thingâ. The âhorsey, county typeâ, thought Jane, and forthwith forgot the two women and interested herself in the view obtainable through the window of Le Bourget aerodrome. Various other machines were standing about. One of them looked like a big metallic centipede.
The one place she was obstinately determined not to look was straight in front of her, where, on the seat opposite, sat a young man.
He was wearing a rather bright periwinkle-blue pullover. Above the pullover Jane was determined not to look. If she did, she might catch his eye, and that would never do!
