{"id":2463,"date":"2026-01-03T22:31:11","date_gmt":"2026-01-03T22:31:11","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/the-murder-at-the-vicarage-christie-agatha\/"},"modified":"2026-01-03T22:31:11","modified_gmt":"2026-01-03T22:31:11","slug":"the-murder-at-the-vicarage-christie-agatha","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/the-murder-at-the-vicarage-christie-agatha\/","title":{"rendered":"The Murder at the Vicarage – Christie, Agatha"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Book Preview<\/h3>\n
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One<\/span><\/span><\/h2>\n<\/div>\n
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I<\/span><\/span>t is difficult to know quite where to begin this story, but I have fixed my choice on a certain Wednesday at luncheon at the Vicarage. The conversation, though in the main irrelevant to the matter in hand, yet contained one or two suggestive incidents which influenced later developments.<\/p>\n

I had just finished carving some boiled beef (remarkably tough by the way) and on resuming my seat I remarked, in a spirit most unbecoming to my cloth, that anyone who murdered Colonel Protheroe would be doing the world at large a service.<\/p>\n

My young nephew, Dennis, said instantly:<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019ll be remembered against you when the old boy is found bathed in blood. Mary will give evidence, won\u2019t you, Mary? And describe how you brandished the carving knife in a vindictive manner.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mary, who is in service at the Vicarage as a stepping-stone to better things and higher wages, merely said in a loud, businesslike voice, \u201cGreens,\u201d and thrust a cracked dish at him in a truculent manner.<\/p>\n

My wife said in a sympathetic voice: \u201cHas he been very<\/span> trying?\u201d<\/p>\n

I did not reply at once, for Mary, setting the greens on the table with a bang, proceeded to thrust a dish of singularly moist and unpleasant dumplings under my nose. I said, \u201cNo, thank you,\u201d and she deposited the dish with a clatter on the table and left the room.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt is a pity that I am such a shocking housekeeper,\u201d said my wife, with a tinge of genuine regret in her voice.<\/p>\n

I was inclined to agree with her. My wife\u2019s name is Griselda\u2014a highly suitable name for a parson\u2019s wife. But there the suitability ends. She is not in the least meek.<\/p>\n

I have always been of the opinion that a clergyman should be unmarried. Why I should have urged Griselda to marry me at the end of twenty-four hours\u2019 acquaintance is a mystery to me. Marriage, I have always held, is a serious affair, to be entered into only after long deliberation and forethought, and suitability of tastes and inclinations is the most important consideration.<\/p>\n

Griselda is nearly twenty years younger than myself. She is most distractingly pretty and quite incapable of taking anything seriously. She is incompetent in every way, and extremely trying to live with. She treats the parish as a kind of huge joke arranged for her amusement. I have endeavoured to form her mind and failed. I am more than ever convinced that celibacy is desirable for the clergy. I have frequently hinted as much to Griselda, but she has only laughed.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy dear,\u201d I said, \u201cif you would only exercise a little care\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI do sometimes,\u201d said Griselda. \u201cBut, on the whole, I think things go worse when I\u2019m trying. I\u2019m evidently not<\/span> a housekeeper by nature. I find it better to leave things to Mary and just make up my mind to be uncomfortable and have nasty things to eat.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what about your husband, my dear?\u201d I said reproachfully, and proceeding to follow the example of the devil in quoting Scripture for his own ends I added: \u201cShe looketh to the ways of her household\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThink how lucky you are not to be torn to pieces by lions,\u201d said Griselda, quickly interrupting. \u201cOr burnt at the stake. Bad food and lots of dust and dead wasps is really nothing to make a fuss about. Tell me more about Colonel Protheroe. At any rate the early Christians were lucky enough not to have churchwardens.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPompous old brute,\u201d said Dennis. \u201cNo wonder his first wife ran away from him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t see what else she could do,\u201d said my wife.<\/p>\n

\u201cGriselda,\u201d I said sharply. \u201cI will not have you speaking in that way.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDarling,\u201d said my wife affectionately. \u201cTell me about him. What was the trouble? Was it Mr. Hawes\u2019s becking and nodding and crossing himself every other minute?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hawes is our new curate. He has been with us just over three weeks. He has High Church views and fasts on Fridays. Colonel Protheroe is a great opposer of ritual in any form.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot this time. He did touch on it in passing. No, the whole trouble arose out of Mrs. Price Ridley\u2019s wretched pound note.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mrs. Price Ridley is a devout member of my congregation. Attending early service on the anniversary of her son\u2019s death, she put a pound note in the offertory bag. Later, reading the amount of the collection posted up, she was pained to observe that one ten-shilling note was the highest item mentioned.<\/p>\n

She complained to me about it, and I pointed out, very reasonably, that she must have made a mistake.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re none of us so young as we were,\u201d I said, trying to turn it off tactfully. \u201cAnd we must pay the penalty of advancing years.\u201d<\/p>\n

Strangely enough, my words only seemed to incense her further. She said that things had a very odd look and that she was surprised I didn\u2019t think so also. And she flounced away and, I gather, took her troubles to Colonel Protheroe. Protheroe is the kind of man who enjoys making a fuss on every conceivable occasion. He made a fuss. It is a pity he made it on a Wednesday. I teach in the Church Day School on Wednesday mornings, a proceeding that causes me acute nervousness and leaves me unsettled for the rest of the day.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I suppose he must have some fun,\u201d said my wife, with the air of trying to sum up the position impartially. \u201cNobody flutters round him and calls him \u2018the dear Vicar,\u2019 and embroiders awful slippers for him, and gives him bedsocks for Christmas. Both his wife and his daughter are fed up to the teeth with him. I suppose it makes him happy to feel important somewhere.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe needn\u2019t be offensive about it,\u201d I said with some heat. \u201cI don\u2019t think he quite realized the implications of what he was saying. He wants to go over all the Church accounts\u2014in case of defalcations\u2014that was the word he used. Defalcations! Does he suspect me of embezzling the Church funds?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNobody would suspect you of anything, darling,\u201d said Griselda. \u201cYou\u2019re so transparently above suspicion that really it would be a marvellous opportunity. I wish you\u2019d embezzle the S.P.G. funds. I hate missionaries\u2014I always have.\u201d<\/p>\n

I would have reproved her for that sentiment, but Mary entered at that moment with a partially cooked rice pudding. I made a mild protest, but Griselda said that the Japanese always ate half-cooked rice and had marvellous brains in consequence.<\/p>\n

\u201cI dare say,\u201d she said, \u201cthat if you had a rice pudding like this every day till Sunday, you\u2019d preach the most marvellous sermon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHeaven forbid,\u201d I said with a shudder.<\/p>\n

\u201cProtheroe\u2019s coming over tomorrow evening and we\u2019re going over the accounts together,\u201d I went on. \u201cI must finish preparing my talk for the C.E.M.S. today. Looking up a reference, I became so engrossed in Canon Shirley\u2019s Reality<\/span> that I haven\u2019t got on as well as I should. What are you doing this afternoon, Griselda?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy duty,\u201d said Griselda. \u201cMy duty as the Vicaress. Tea and scandal at four thirty.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho is coming?\u201d<\/p>\n

Griselda ticked them off on her fingers with a glow of virtue on her face.<\/p>\n

\u201cMrs. Price Ridley, Miss Wetherby, Miss Hartnell, and that terrible Miss Marple.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI rather like Miss Marple,\u201d I said. \u201cShe has, at least, a sense of humour.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s the worst cat in the village,\u201d said Griselda. \u201cAnd she always knows every single thing that happens\u2014and draws the worst inferences from it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Griselda, as I have said, is much younger than I am. At my time of life, one knows that the worst is usually true.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, don\u2019t expect me<\/span> in for tea, Griselda,\u201d said Dennis.<\/p>\n

\u201cBeast!\u201d said Griselda.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, but look here, the Protheroes really did<\/span> ask me for tennis today.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBeast!\u201d said Griselda again.<\/p>\n

Dennis beat a prudent retreat and Griselda and I went together into my study.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wonder what we shall have for tea,\u201d said Griselda, seating herself on my writing table. \u201cDr. Stone and Miss Cram, I suppose, and perhaps Mrs. Lestrange. By the way, I called on her yesterday, but she was out. Yes, I\u2019m sure we shall have Mrs. Lestrange for tea. It\u2019s so mysterious, isn\u2019t it, her arriving like this and taking a house down here, and hardly ever going outside it? Makes one think of detective stories. You know\u2014\u2018Who was she, the mysterious woman with the pale, beautiful face? What was her past history? Nobody knew. There was something faintly sinister about her.<\/span>\u2019 I believe Dr. Haydock knows something about her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou read too many detective stories, Griselda,\u201d I observed mildly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about you?\u201d she retorted. \u201cI was looking everywhere for The Stain on the Stairs<\/span> the other day when you were in here writing a sermon. And at last I came in to ask you if you\u2019d seen it anywhere, and what did I find?\u201d<\/p>\n

I had the grace to blush.<\/p>\n

\u201cI picked it up at random. A chance sentence caught my eye and\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know those chance sentences,\u201d said Griselda. She quoted impressively, \u201c\u2018And then a very curious thing happened\u2014Griselda rose, crossed the room and kissed her elderly husband affectionately.\u2019\u201d<\/span> She suited the action to the word.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs that a very curious thing?\u201d I inquired.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course it is,\u201d said Griselda. \u201cDo you realize, Len, that I might have married a Cabinet Minister, a Baronet, a rich Company Promoter, three subalterns and a ne\u2019er-do-weel with attractive manners, and that instead I chose you? Didn\u2019t it astonish you very much?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAt the time it did,\u201d I replied. \u201cI have often wondered why you did it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Griselda laughed.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt made me feel so powerful,\u201d she murmured. \u201cThe others thought me simply wonderful and of course it would have been very nice for them<\/span> to have me.<\/span> But I\u2019m everything you most dislike and disapprove of, and yet you couldn\u2019t withstand me! My vanity couldn\u2019t hold out against that. It\u2019s so much nicer to be a secret and delightful sin to anybody than to be a feather in their cap. I make you frightfully uncomfortable and stir you up the wrong way the whole time, and yet you adore me madly. You adore me madly, don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNaturally I am very fond of you, my dear.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh! Len, you adore me. Do you remember that day when I stayed up in town and sent you a wire you never got because the postmistress\u2019s sister was having twins and she forgot to send it round? The state you got into and you telephoned Scotland Yard and made the most frightful fuss.\u201d<\/p>\n

There are things one hates being reminded of. I had really been strangely foolish on the occasion in question. I said:<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you don\u2019t mind, dear, I want to get on with the C.E.M.S.\u201d<\/p>\n

Griselda gave a sigh of intense irritation, ruffled my hair up on end, smoothed it down again, said:<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t deserve me. You really don\u2019t. I\u2019ll have an affair with the artist. I will\u2014really and truly. And then think of the scandal in the parish.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s a good deal already,\u201d I said mildly.<\/p>\n

Griselda laughed, blew me a kiss, and departed through the window.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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