Appointment with Death. Агата Кристи

Appointment with Death - Агата Кристи


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      This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities, is entirely coincidental.

      HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

      1 London Bridge Street

      London SE1 9GF

      www.harpercollins.co.uk

      First published in Great Britain by Collins 1938

      Copyright © 1938 Agatha Christie Limited (a Chorion company). All rights reserved.

       www.agathachristie.com

      Agatha Christie asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

      A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

      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

      HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication

      Source ISBN: 9780007119356

      Ebook Edition © OCTOBER 2010 ISBN: 9780007422142

      Version: 2017-07-18

      To Richard and Myra Mallock to remind them of their journey to Petra

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Dedication

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Part II

       Chapter 1

       Chapter 2

       Chapter 3

       Chapter 4

       Chapter 5

       Chapter 6

       Chapter 7

       Chapter 8

       Chapter 9

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

       Epilogue

       Keep Reading

       E-book Extras

       About Agatha Christie

       The Agatha Christie Collection

       www.agathachristie.com

       About the Publisher

Part I

       Chapter 1

      ‘You do see, don’t you, that she’s got to be killed?’

      The question floated out into the still night air, seemed to hang there a moment and then drift away down into the darkness towards the Dead Sea.

      Hercule Poirot paused a minute with his hand on the window catch. Frowning, he shut it decisively, thereby excluding any injurious night air! Hercule Poirot had been brought up to believe that all outside air was best left outside, and that night air was especially dangerous to the health.

      As he pulled the curtains neatly over the window and walked to his bed, he smiled tolerantly to himself.

      ‘You do see, don’t you, that she’s got to be killed?’

      Curious words for one Hercule Poirot, detective, to overhear on his first night in Jerusalem.

      ‘Decidedly, wherever I go, there is something to remind me of crime!’ he murmured to himself.

      His smile continued as he remembered a story he had once heard concerning Anthony Trollope the novelist. Trollope was crossing the Atlantic at the time and had overheard two fellow passengers discussing the last published instalment of one of his novels.

      ‘Very good,’ one man had declared. ‘But he ought to kill off that tiresome old woman.’

      With a broad smile the novelist had addressed them:

      ‘Gentlemen, I am much obliged to you! I will go and kill her immediately!’

      Hercule Poirot wondered what had occasioned the words he had just overheard. A collaboration, perhaps, over a play or a book.

      He thought, still smiling: ‘Those words might be remembered, one day, and given a more sinister meaning.’

      There had been, he now recollected, a curious nervous intensity in the voice—a tremor that spoke of some intense emotional strain. A man’s voice—or a boy’s…

      Hercule Poirot thought to himself as he turned out the light by his bed: ‘I should know that voice again…’

      II

      Their elbows on the window-sill, their heads close together, Raymond and Carol Boynton gazed out into the blue depths of the night. Nervously, Raymond repeated his former words: ‘You do see, don’t you, that she’s got to be killed?’

      Carol Boynton stirred slightly. She said, her voice deep and hoarse: ‘It’s horrible…’

      ‘It’s not more horrible


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