The Golden Ball and Other Stories Read online

  along to the vet's."

  Between them, he and Joyce lifted the dog. Terry gave

  a yelp of pain. His teeth met in Joyce's arm.

  "Terry--it's all right--all right, old man."

  They got him into the taxi and drove off. Joyce wrapped

  a handkerchief round her arm in an absentminded way.

  Terry, distressed, tried to lick it.

  "I know, darling; I know. You didn't mean to hurt me.

  It's all right. It's all right, Terry."

  She stroked his head. The man opposite watched her but

  said nothing.

  They arrived at the vet's fairly quickly and found him in. He was a red-faced man with an unsympathetic manner.

  He handled Terry none too gently while Joyce stood by

  agonized. The tears were running down her face. She kept

  on talking in a low, reassuring voice.

  "It's all right, darling. It's all right "

  The

  vet straightened himself.

  "Impossible

  to say exactly. I must make a proper examination.

  You must leave him here."

  "Oh!

  I can't."

  "I'm

  afraid you must. I must take him below. I'll telephone

  you in--say--half an hour."

  Sick

  at heart, Joyce gave in. She kissed Terry on his nose.

  Blind with tears, she stumbled down the steps. The man

  who had helped her was still there. She had forgotten him.

  '.

  'o

  -tirea

  'ill here. I'll take you back."

  She

  shook her

  YOU."

  taxi. She was hardly

  conscious of him · by her side

  without speaking. When

  3ames',

  he

  spoke.

  £XT TO ^ DOa

  227

  "Your wrist. You must see to it."

  She looked down at it.

  "Oh! That's all tight."

  "It wants properly washing and tying up. I'll come in

  with you."

  He went with her up the stairs. She let him wash the

  place and bind it up with a clean handkerchief. She only

  said one thing.

  "Terry didn't mean to do it. He would never, never mean to do it. He just didn't realize it was me. He must have

  been in dreadful pain."

  "I'm afraid so, yes."

  "And perhaps they're hurting him dreadfully now?"

  "I'm sure that everything that can he done for him is

  being done. When the vet tings up, you can go and get him

  and nurse him here."

  "Yes, of COlWSe."

  The man paused, then moved towards the door.

  "I hope it will be all tight," he said awkwardly. "Goodbye."

  "Goodbye."

  Two or three minutes later it occurred to her that he had

  been kind and that she had never thanked him.

  Mrs. Barnes appeared, cup in hand.

  "Now, my poor lamb, a cup of hot tea. You're all to

  pieces, I can see that."

  "Thank you, Mrs. Barnes, but I don't want any tea."

  "It would do you good, dearie. Don't take on so now.

  The doggie will be all tight, and even if he isn't, that

  gentleman of yours will give you a Pretty new dog--"

  "Don't, Mrs. Barnes. Don't. Please, if you don't mind,

  I'd rather he left alone."

  "Well, I never--there's the telephone."

  Joyce sped down to it like an arrow. She lifted the receiver.

  Mrs. Barnes panted down after her. She heard Joyce

  say, "Yes--speaking. What? Oh! Oh! Yes. Yes, thank

  you."

  She put back the receiver. The face she turned to Mrs.

  Barnes startled that good woman. It seemed devoid of any

  life or expression.

  228

  Agatha Christie

  "Terry's dead, Mrs. Barnes," she said. "He died alone

  there without me."

  She went upstairs and, going into her room, shut the door

  very decisively.

  "Well, I never," said Mrs. Barnes to the hall wallpaper.

  Five minutes later she poked her head into the room.

  Joyce was sitting bolt upright in a chair. She was not crying.

  "It's your gentleman, miss. Shall I send him up?"

  A sudden light came into Joyce's eyes.

  "Yes, please. I'd like to sec him."

  Halliday came in boisterously.

  "Well, here we are. I haven't lost much time, have r?

  I'm prepared to carry you off from this dreadful place here

  and now. You can't stay here. Come on, get your things

  on."

  "There's no need, Arthur."

  "No need? What do you mean?"

  "Terry's dead. I don't need to marry you now."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "My dog Terry. He's dead. I was only marrying you

  so that we could be together."

  Halliday stared at her, his face growing redder and redder.

  "You're mad."

  "I dare say. People who love dogs are."

  "You seriously tell me that you were only marrying me

  because-- Oh, it's absurd!"

  "Why did you think I was marrying you? You knew I

  hated you."

  "You were manying me because I could give you a jolly

  good time--and so I can."

  "To my mind," said Joyce, "that is a much more revolting

  motive than mine. Anyway, it's off. I'm not marrying you!"

  "Do you realize that you are treating me damned badly?"

  She looked at him coolly but with such a blaze in her

  eyes that he drew back before it.

  "I don't think so. I've heard you talk about getting a kick

  out of life. That's what you got out of me--and my dislike

  of you heightened it. You knew I hated you and you enjoyed

  it. When I let you kiss me yesterday, you were disappointed

  because I didn't flinch or wince. There's something brutal

  in you, Arthur, something cruel--something that likes hurt

  ing ....

  And now

  to mysdf.

  He sph "Whw 'That's!

  "You

  You

  loy e la unex we

  Joyce

  hat d

  mhi

  e back

  pgmntly

  dull.

  mx) A m)O

  229

  body could treat you as badly as you deserve.

  rio you mind getting out of my room? I want it

  {tttered a little.

  hat are you going to do? You've no money."

  my business. Please go."

  ttle devil, You absolutely maddening little devil.

  Ft done with me yet."

  gh routed him as nothing else had done. It was

  eted. He went awkwardly down the stairs and Y.

  eared a sigh. She pulled on her shabby black felt her mm went out. She walked along the streets

  !ly, neither thinking nor feeling. Somewhere at if her mind there was pain--pain that she would

  el, but for the moment everything was mercifully

  seat the Registry Offi and hesitated.

  ,

  ........ do something There s the river, of course 'I we

  olten muu

  ·

  .

  .

  . , ·

  - . *ht of that Just fmish everything But it s so cold

  anO wet

  '

  '

  really

  don t think I m bra e enough. I m not brave

  " n t matter, smd loyce I can take anylt d

 
; post no . ' ,,--

  .

  kind of

  ,,Th. rMy friend, whom I lived with, has--gone away."

  [''ou'd consider going abroad'"

  Juy ,

  ·

  "Yes, 'mtded.

  "Mr. ?,11 far away as possible."

  c:date qlaby is here now, as it happens, interviewing

  . h. I 11 send you m to him

  Ill

  .

  ' ....

  sweringt!er minute Joyce was sitting m a cubicle an

  ..... ,. estions. Somethin about her intefiocuto seemed

  . ,..niliar to her, but she could not place him And

  ..... · 'n ' only her mind awoke a little, aware that the last

  "nn - as faintly out of the ordinary.

  asking. get on well with old lades? Mr. Allaby was

  loyce

  niled in spite of herself.

  230

  Agatha Christie

  "I think so."

  "You see my aunt, who lives with me, is rather difficult.

  She is verY fond of me and she is a great dear really, but

  I fancy that a young woman might find her rather difficult

  sometimes."

  "I think I'm patient and good-tempered," said Joyce,

  "and I have always got on with elderly people verY well."

  "You would have to do certain things for my aunt and

  otherwise you would have the charge of my little boy, who

  is three. His mother died a year ago."

  There was a pause.

  "Then if you think you would like the post, we will

  consider that settled. We travel out next week. I will let

  you know the exact date, and I expect you would like a

  small advance of salary to fit yourself out."

  "Thank you verY much. That would be verY kind of you."

  They had both risen. Suddenly Mr. Allaby said awkwardly:

  "I I hate to butt in--I mean I wish---I would like to

  know--I mean, is your dog all right?"

  For the first time Joyce looked at him. The colour came

  into her face, her blue eyes deepened almost to black. She

  looked straight at him. She had thought him elderly, but he

  was not So verY old. Hair turning grey, a pleasant weatherbeaten

  face, rather stooping shoulders, eyes that were

  brown and something of the shy kindliness of a dog's. He

  looked a little like a dog, Joyce thought.

  "Oh, it's you," she said. "I thought afterwardsI never

  thanked you."

  "No need. Didn't expect it. Knew what you were feeling

  like. What about the poor old chap?"

  The tears came into Joyce's eyes. They streamed down

  her cheeks. Nothing on earth could have kept them back.

  "He's dead."

  "Oh!"

  He said nothing else, but to Joyce that Oh! was. one of

  the most comforting things she had ever heard. There was

  everYthing in it that couldn't be put into words.

  After a minute or two he said jerkily:

  "Matter of fact, I had a dog. Died two years ago. Was

  NEXT TO ^ DOG

  231

  with a crowd of people at the time who couldn't understand making heavy weather about it. Pretty rotten to have to

  carry on as though nothing had happened."

  Joyce nodded.

  "I know--" said Mr. Allaby.

  He took her hand, squeezed it hard and dropped it. He went out of the little cubicle. Joyce followed in a minute

  or two and fixed up various details with the ladylike person.

  When she arrived home, Mrs. Barnes met her on the doorstep

  with that relish in gloom typical of her class.

  "They've sent the poor little doggie's body home," she announced. "It's up in your room. I was saying to

  Barnes, and he's ready to dig anice little hole in the back

  garden--"

  A LOOKATA TALF. NTA$MYSTERIOU$LO TI BO01 THAT MADE IIF. R FAMOUS.

  AGATHA CHRISTIE:

  AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY

  The life behind the mysteries

  The forces thal shaped and inspired one of the world's favorite

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  Written when she was six, Christie looks bach on the fascinating

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  Victorian England, her early writing attempts, her first

  marriage and only child, her travel abroad, and her marriage

  to archaeologist Max Mallowan. From the birth of

  her career to the conception of her most beloved characters,

  Hercule Poirot and Miss Marple, Christie offers a

  touching and insighOCul gifi to herons.

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