{"id":2487,"date":"2026-01-03T22:32:25","date_gmt":"2026-01-03T22:32:25","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/the-thirteen-problems-christie-agatha\/"},"modified":"2026-01-03T22:32:25","modified_gmt":"2026-01-03T22:32:25","slug":"the-thirteen-problems-christie-agatha","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/the-thirteen-problems-christie-agatha\/","title":{"rendered":"The Thirteen Problems – Christie, Agatha"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Book Preview<\/h3>\n
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Chapter 1<\/span><\/h2>\n

The Tuesday Night Club<\/span><\/h2>\n<\/div>\n
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\u2018Unsolved mysteries.\u2019<\/p>\n

Raymond West blew out a cloud of smoke and repeated the words with a kind of deliberate self-conscious pleasure.<\/p>\n

\u2018Unsolved mysteries.\u2019<\/p>\n

He looked round him with satisfaction. The room was an old one with broad black beams across the ceiling and it was furnished with good old furniture that belonged to it. Hence Raymond West\u2019s approving glance. By profession he was a writer and he liked the atmosphere to be flawless. His Aunt Jane\u2019s house always pleased him as the right setting for her personality. He looked across the hearth to where she sat erect in the big grandfather chair. Miss Marple wore a black brocade dress, very much pinched in round the waist. Mechlin lace was arranged in a cascade down the front of the bodice. She had on black lace mittens, and a black lace cap surmounted the piled-up masses of her snowy hair. She was knitting\u2014something white and soft and fleecy. Her faded blue eyes, benignant and kindly, surveyed her nephew and her nephew\u2019s guests with gentle pleasure. They rested first on Raymond himself, self-consciously debonair, then on Joyce Lempri\u00e8re, the artist, with her close-cropped black head and queer hazel-green eyes, then on that well-groomed man of the world, Sir Henry Clithering. There were two other people in the room, Dr Pender, the elderly clergyman of the parish, and Mr Petherick, the solicitor, a dried-up little man with eyeglasses which he looked over and not through. Miss Marple gave a brief moment of attention to all these people and returned to her knitting with a gentle smile upon her lips.<\/p>\n

Mr Petherick gave the dry little cough with which he usually prefaced his remarks.<\/p>\n

\u2018What is that you say, Raymond? Unsolved mysteries? Ha\u2014and what about them?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Nothing about them,\u2019 said Joyce Lempri\u00e8re. \u2018Raymond just likes the sound of the words and of himself saying them.\u2019<\/p>\n

Raymond West threw her a glance of reproach at which she threw back her head and laughed.<\/p>\n

\u2018He is a humbug, isn\u2019t he, Miss Marple?\u2019 she demanded. \u2018You know that, I am sure.\u2019<\/p>\n

Miss Marple smiled gently at her but made no reply.<\/p>\n

\u2018Life itself is an unsolved mystery,\u2019 said the clergyman gravely.<\/p>\n

Raymond sat up in his chair and flung away his cigarette with an impulsive gesture.<\/p>\n

\u2018That\u2019s not what I mean. I was not talking philosophy,\u2019 he said. \u2018I was thinking of actual bare prosaic facts, things that have happened and that no one has ever explained.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I know just the sort of thing you mean, dear,\u2019 said Miss Marple. \u2018For instance Mrs Carruthers had a very strange experience yesterday morning. She bought two gills of picked shrimps at Elliot\u2019s. She called at two other shops and when she got home she found she had not got the shrimps with her. She went back to the two shops she had visited but these shrimps had completely disappeared. Now that seems to me very remarkable.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018A very fishy story,\u2019 said Sir Henry Clithering gravely.<\/p>\n

\u2018There are, of course, all kinds of possible explanations,\u2019 said Miss Marple, her cheeks growing slightly pinker with excitement. \u2018For instance, somebody else\u2014\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018My dear Aunt,\u2019 said Raymond West with some amusement, \u2018I didn\u2019t mean that sort of village incident. I was thinking of murders and disappearances\u2014the kind of thing that Sir Henry could tell us about by the hour if he liked.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018But I never talk shop,\u2019 said Sir Henry modestly. \u2018No, I never talk shop.\u2019<\/p>\n

Sir Henry Clithering had been until lately Commissioner of Scotland Yard.<\/p>\n

\u2018I suppose there are a lot of murders and things that never are solved by the police,\u2019 said Joyce Lempri\u00e8re.<\/p>\n

\u2018That is an admitted fact, I believe,\u2019 said Mr Petherick.<\/p>\n

\u2018I wonder,\u2019 said Raymond West, \u2018what class of brain really succeeds best in unravelling a mystery? One always feels that the average police detective must be hampered by lack of imagination.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018That is the layman\u2019s point of view,\u2019 said Sir Henry dryly.<\/p>\n

\u2018You really want a committee,\u2019 said Joyce, smiling. \u2018For psychology and imagination go to the writer\u2014\u2019<\/p>\n

She made an ironical bow to Raymond but he remained serious.<\/p>\n

\u2018The art of writing gives one an insight into human nature,\u2019 he said gravely. \u2018One sees, perhaps, motives that the ordinary person would pass by.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I know, dear,\u2019 said Miss Marple, \u2018that your books are very clever. But do you think that people are really so unpleasant as you make them out to be?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018My dear Aunt,\u2019 said Raymond gently, \u2018keep your beliefs. Heaven forbid that I<\/span> should in any way shatter them.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I mean,\u2019 said Miss Marple, puckering her brow a little as she counted the stitches in her knitting, \u2018that so many people seem to me not to be either bad or good, but simply, you know, very silly.\u2019<\/p>\n

Mr Petherick gave his dry little cough again.<\/p>\n

\u2018Don\u2019t you think, Raymond,\u2019 he said, \u2018that you attach too much weight to imagination? Imagination is a very dangerous thing, as we lawyers know only too well. To be able to sift evidence impartially, to take the facts and look at them as facts\u2014that seems to me the only logical method of arriving at the truth. I may add that in my experience it is the only one that succeeds.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Bah!\u2019 cried Joyce, flinging back her black head indignantly. \u2018I bet I could beat you all at this game. I am not only a woman\u2014and say what you like, women have an intuition that is denied to men\u2014I am an artist as well. I see things that you don\u2019t. And then, too, as an artist I have knocked about among all sorts and conditions of people. I know life as darling Miss Marple here cannot possibly know it.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I don\u2019t know about that, dear,\u2019 said Miss Marple. \u2018Very painful and distressing things happen in villages sometimes.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018May I speak?\u2019 said Dr Pender smiling. \u2018It is the fashion nowadays to decry the clergy, I know, but we hear things, we know a side of human character which is a sealed book to the outside world.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Well,\u2019 said Joyce, \u2018it seems to me we are a pretty representative gathering. How would it be if we formed a Club? What is today? Tuesday? We will call it The Tuesday Night Club. It is to meet every week, and each member in turn has to propound a problem. Some mystery of which they have personal knowledge, and to which, of course, they know the answer. Let me see, how many are we? One, two, three, four, five. We ought really to be six.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018You have forgotten me, dear,\u2019 said Miss Marple, smiling brightly.<\/p>\n

Joyce was slightly taken aback, but she concealed the fact quickly.<\/p>\n

\u2018That would be lovely, Miss Marple,\u2019 she said. \u2018I didn\u2019t think you would care to play.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I think it would be very intersting,\u2019 said Miss Marple, \u2018especially with so many clever gentlemen present. I am afraid I am not clever myself, but living all these years in St Mary Mead does give one an insight into human nature.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I am sure your co-operation will be very valuable,\u2019 said Sir Henry, courteously.<\/p>\n

\u2018Who is going to start?\u2019 said Joyce.<\/p>\n

\u2018I think there is no doubt as to that,\u2019 said Dr Pender, \u2018when we have the great good fortune to have such a distinguished man as Sir Henry staying with us\u2014\u2019<\/p>\n

He left his sentence unfinished, making a courtly bow in the direction of Sir Henry.<\/p>\n

The latter was silent for a minute or two. At last he sighed and recrossed his legs and began:<\/p>\n

\u2018It is a little difficult for me to select just the kind of thing you want, but I think, as it happens, I know of an instance which fits these conditions very aptly. You may have seen some mention of the case in the papers of a year ago. It was laid aside at the time as an unsolved mystery, but, as it happens, the solution came into my hands not very many days ago.<\/p>\n

\u2018The facts are very simple. Three people sat down to a supper consisting, amongst other things, of tinned lobster. Later in the night, all three were taken ill, and a doctor was hastily summoned. Two of the people recovered, the third one died.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Ah!\u2019 said Raymond approvingly.<\/p>\n

\u2018As I say, the facts as such were very simple. Death was considered to be due to ptomaine poisoning, a certificate was given to that effect, and the victim was duly buried. But things did not rest at that.\u2019<\/p>\n

Miss Marple nodded her head.<\/p>\n

\u2018There was talk, I suppose,\u2019 she said, \u2018there usually is.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018And now I must describe the actors in this little drama. I will call the husband and wife Mr and Mrs Jones, and the wife\u2019s companion Miss Clark. Mr Jones was a traveller for a firm of manufacturing chemists. He was a good-looking man in a kind of coarse, florid way, aged about fifty. His wife was a rather commonplace woman, of about forty-five. The companion, Miss Clark, was a woman of sixty, a stout cheery woman with a beaming rubicund face. None of them, you might say, very interesting.<\/p>\n

\u2018Now the beginning of the troubles arose in a very curious way. Mr Jones had been staying the previous night at a small commercial hotel in Birmingham. It happened that the blotting paper in the blotting book had been put in fresh that day, and the chambermaid, having apparently nothing better to do, amused herself by studying the blotter in the mirror just after Mr Jones had been writing a letter there. A few days later there was a report in the papers of the death of Mrs Jones as the result of eating tinned lobster, and the chambermaid then imparted to her fellow servants the words that she had deciphered on the blotting pad. They were as follows: Entirely dependent on my wife\u2026when she is dead I will\u2026hundreds and thousands\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2018You may remember that there had recently been a case of a wife being poisoned by her husband. It needed very little to fire the imagination of these maids. Mr Jones had planned to do away with his wife and inherit hundreds of thousands of pounds! As it happened one of the maids had relations living in the small market town where the Joneses resided. She wrote to them, and they in return wrote to her. Mr Jones, it seemed, had been very attentive to the local doctor\u2019s daughter, a good-looking young woman of thirty-three. Scandal began to hum. The Home Secretary was petitioned. Numerous anonymous letters poured into Scotland Yard all accusing Mr Jones of having murdered his wife. Now I may say that not for one moment did we think there was anything in it except idle village talk and gossip. Nevertheless, to quiet public opinion an exhumation order was granted. It was one of these cases of popular superstition based on nothing solid whatever, which proved to be so surprisingly justified. As a result of the autopsy sufficient arsenic was found to make it quite clear that the deceased lady had died of arsenical poisoning. It was for Scotland Yard working with the local authorities to prove how that arsenic had been administered, and by whom.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Ah!\u2019 said Joyce. \u2018I like this. This is the real stuff.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Suspicion naturally fell on the husband. He benefited by his wife\u2019s death. Not to the extent of the hundreds of thousands romantically imagined by the hotel chambermaid, but to the very solid amount of \u00a38000. He had no money of his own apart from what he earned, and he was a man of somewhat extravagant habits with a partiality for the society of women. We investigated as delicately as possible the rumour of his attachment to the doctor\u2019s daughter; but while it seemed clear that there had been a strong friendship between them at one time, there had been a most abrupt break two months previously, and they did not appear to have seen each other since. The doctor himself, an elderly man of a straightforward and unsuspicious type, was dumbfounded at the result of the autopsy. He had been called in about midnight to find all three people suffering. He had realized immediately the serious condition of Mrs Jones, and had sent back to his dispensary for some opium pills, to allay the pain. In spite of all his efforts, however, she succumbed, but not for a moment did he suspect that anything was amiss. He was convinced that her death was due to a form of botulism. Supper that night had consisted of tinned lobster and salad, trifle and bread and cheese. Unfortunately none of the lobster remained\u2014it had all been eaten and the tin thrown away. He had interrogated the young maid, Gladys Linch. She was terribly upset, very tearful and agitated, and he found it hard to get her to keep to the point, but she declared again and again that the tin had not been distended in any way and that the lobster had appeared to her in a perfectly good condition.<\/p>\n

\u2018Such were the facts we had to go upon. If Jones had feloniously administered arsenic to his wife, it seemed clear that it could not have been done in any of the things eaten at supper, as all three persons had partaken of the meal. Also\u2014another point\u2014Jones himself had returned from Birmingham just as supper was being brought in to table, so that he would have had no opportunity of doctoring any of the food beforehand.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018What about the companion?\u2019 asked Joyce\u2014\u2018the stout woman with the good-humoured face.\u2019<\/p>\n

Sir Henry nodded.<\/p>\n

\u2018We did not neglect Miss Clark, I can assure you. But it seemed doubtful what motive she could have had for the crime. Mrs Jones left her no legacy of any kind and the net result of her employer\u2019s death was that she had to seek for another situation.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018That seems to leave her out of it,\u2019 said Joyce thoughtfully.<\/p>\n

\u2018Now one of my inspectors soon discovered a significant fact,\u2019 went on Sir Henry. \u2018After supper on that evening Mr Jones had gone down to the kitchen and had demanded a bowl of cornflour for his wife who had complained of not feeling well. He had waited in the kitchen until Gladys Linch prepared it, and then carried it up to his wife\u2019s room himself. That, I admit, seemed to clinch the case.\u2019<\/p>\n

The lawyer nodded.<\/p>\n

\u2018Motive,\u2019 he said, ticking the points off on his fingers. \u2018Opportunity. As a traveller for a firm of druggists, easy access to the poison.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018And a man of weak moral fibre,\u2019 said the clergyman.<\/p>\n

Raymond West was staring at Sir Henry.<\/p>\n

\u2018There is a catch in this somewhere,\u2019 he said. \u2018Why did you not arrest him?\u2019<\/p>\n

Sir Henry smiled rather wryly.<\/p>\n

\u2018That is the unfortunate part of the case. So far all had gone swimmingly, but now we come to the snags. Jones was not arrested because on interrogating Miss Clark she told us that the whole of the bowl of cornflour was drunk not by Mrs Jones but by her.<\/p>\n

\u2018Yes, it seems that she went to Mrs Jones\u2019s room as was her custom. Mrs Jones was sitting up in bed and the bowl of cornflour was beside her.<\/p>\n

\u2018 \u201cI am not feeling a bit well, Milly,\u201d she said. \u201cServes me right, I suppose, for touching lobster at night. I asked Albert to get me a bowl of cornflour, but now that I have got it I don\u2019t seem to fancy it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2018 \u201cA pity,\u201d commented Miss Clark\u2014\u201cit is nicely made too, no lumps. Gladys is really quite a nice cook. Very few girls nowadays seem to be able to make a bowl of cornflour nicely. I declare I quite fancy it myself, I am that hungry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2018 \u201cI should think you were with your foolish ways,\u201d said Mrs Jones.<\/p>\n

\u2018I must explain,\u2019 broke off Sir Henry, \u2018that Miss Clark, alarmed at her increasing stoutness, was doing a course of what is popularly known as \u201cbanting\u201d.<\/p>\n

\u2018 \u201cIt is not good for you, Milly, it really isn\u2019t,\u201d urged Mrs Jones. \u201cIf the Lord made you stout he meant you to be stout. You drink up that bowl of cornflour. It will do you all the good in the world.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2018And straight away Miss Clark set to and did in actual fact finish the bowl. So, you see, that knocked our case against the husband to pieces. Asked for an explanation of the words on the blotting book Jones gave one readily enough. The letter, he explained, was in answer to one written from his brother in Australia who had applied to him for money. He had written, pointing out that he was entirely dependent on his wife. When his wife was dead he would have control of money and would assist his brother if possible. He regretted his inability to help but pointed out that there were hundreds and thousands of people in the world in the same unfortunate plight.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018And so the case fell to pieces?\u2019 said Dr Pender.<\/p>\n

\u2018And so the case fell to pieces,\u2019 said Sir Henry gravely. \u2018We could not take the risk of arresting Jones with nothing to go upon.\u2019<\/p>\n

There was a silence and then Joyce said, \u2018And that is all, is it?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018That is the case as it has stood for the last year. The true solution is now in the hands of Scotland Yard, and in two or three days\u2019 time you will probably read of it in the newspapers.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018The true solution,\u2019 said Joyce thoughtfully. \u2018I wonder. Let\u2019s all think for five minutes and then speak.\u2019<\/p>\n

Raymond West nodded and noted the time on his watch. When the five minutes were up he looked over at Dr Pender.<\/p>\n

\u2018Will you speak first?\u2019 he said.<\/p>\n

The old man shook his head. \u2018I confess,\u2019 he said, \u2018that I am utterly baffled. I can but think that the husband in some way must be the guilty party, but how he did it I cannot imagine. I can only suggest that he must have given her the poison in some way that has not yet been discovered, although how in that case it should have come to light after all this time I cannot imagine.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Joyce?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018The companion!\u2019 said Joyce decidedly. \u2018The companion every time! How do we know what motive she may have had? Just because she was old and stout and ugly it doesn\u2019t follow that she wasn\u2019t in love with Jones herself. She may have hated the wife for some other reason. Think of being a companion\u2014always having to be pleasant and agree and stifle yourself and bottle yourself up. One day she couldn\u2019t bear it any longer and then she killed her. She probably put the arsenic in the bowl of cornflour and all that story about eating it herself is a lie.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Mr Petherick?\u2019<\/p>\n

The lawyer joined the tips of his fingers together professionally. \u2018I should hardly like to say. On the facts I should hardly like to say.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018But you have got to, Mr Petherick,\u2019 said Joyce. \u2018You can\u2019t reserve judgement and say \u201cwithout prejudice\u201d, and be legal. You have got to play the game.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018On the facts,\u2019 said Mr Petherick, \u2018there seems nothing to be said. It is my private opinion, having seen, alas, too many cases of this kind, that the husband was guilty. The only explanation that will cover the facts seems to be that Miss Clark for some reason or other deliberately sheltered him. There may have been some financial arrangement made between them. He might realize that he would be suspected, and she, seeing only a future of poverty before her, may have agreed to tell the story of drinking the cornflour in return for a substantial sum to be paid to her privately. If that was the case it was of course most irregular. Most irregular indeed.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I disagree with you all,\u2019 said Raymond. \u2018You have forgotten the one important factor in the case. The doctor\u2019s daughter<\/span>. I will give you my reading of the case. The tinned lobster was bad. It accounted for the poisoning symptoms. The doctor was sent for. He finds Mrs Jones, who has eaten more lobster than the others, in great pain, and he sends, as you told us, for some opium pills. He does not go himself, he sends. Who will give the messenger the opium pills? Clearly his daughter. Very likely she dispenses his medicines for him. She is in love with Jones and at this moment all the worst instincts in her nature rise and she realizes that the means to procure his freedom are in her hands. The pills she sends contain pure white arsenic. That is my solution.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018And now, Sir Henry, tell us,\u2019 said Joyce eagerly.<\/p>\n

\u2018One moment,\u2019 said Sir Henry. \u2018Miss Marple has not yet spoken.\u2019<\/p>\n

Miss Marple was shaking her head sadly.<\/p>\n

\u2018Dear, dear,\u2019 she said. \u2018I have dropped another stitch. I have been so interested in the story. A sad case, a very sad case. It reminds me of old Mr Hargraves who lived up at the Mount. His wife never had the least suspicion\u2014until he died, leaving all his money to a woman he had been living with and by whom he had five children. She had at one time been their housemaid. Such a nice girl, Mrs Hargraves always said\u2014thoroughly to be relied upon to turn the mattresses every day\u2014except Fridays, of course. And there was old Hargraves keeping this woman in a house in the neighbouring town and continuing to be a Churchwarden and to hand round the plate every Sunday.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018My dear Aunt Jane,\u2019 said Raymond with some impatience. \u2018What has dead and gone Hargraves got to do with the case?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018This story made me think of him at once,\u2019 said Miss Marple. \u2018The facts are so very alike, aren\u2019t they? I suppose the poor girl has confessed now and that is how you know, Sir Henry.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018What girl?\u2019 said Raymond. \u2018My dear Aunt, what are<\/span> you talking about?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018That poor girl, Gladys Linch, of course\u2014the one who was so terribly agitated when the doctor spoke to her\u2014and well she might be, poor thing. I hope that wicked Jones is hanged, I am sure, making that poor girl a murderess. I suppose they will hang her too, poor thing.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I think, Miss Marple, that you are under a slight misapprehension,\u2019 began Mr Petherick.<\/p>\n

But Miss Marple shook her head obstinately and looked across at Sir Henry.<\/p>\n

\u2018I am right, am I not? It seems so clear to me. The hundreds and thousands\u2014and the trifle\u2014I mean, one cannot miss it.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018What about the trifle and the hundreds and thousands?\u2019 cried Raymond.<\/p>\n

His aunt turned to him.<\/p>\n

\u2018Cooks nearly always put hundreds and thousands on trifle, dear,\u2019 she said. \u2018Those little pink and white sugar things. Of course when I heard that they had trifle for supper and that the husband had been writing to someone about hundreds and thousands, I naturally connected the two things together. That is where the arsenic was\u2014in the hundreds and thousands. He left it with the girl and told her to put it on the trifle.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018But that is impossible,\u2019 said Joyce quickly. \u2018They all ate the trifle.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Oh, no,\u2019 said Miss Marple. \u2018The companion was banting, you remember. You never eat anything like trifle if you are banting; and I expect Jones just scraped the hundreds and thousands off his share and left them at the side of his plate. It was a clever idea, but a very wicked one.\u2019<\/p>\n

The eyes of the others were all fixed upon Sir Henry.<\/p>\n

\u2018It is a very curious thing,\u2019 he said slowly, \u2018but Miss Marple happens to have hit upon the truth. Jones had got Gladys Linch into trouble, as the saying goes. She was nearly desperate. He wanted his wife out of the way and promised to marry Gladys when his wife was dead. He doctored the hundreds and thousands and gave them to her with instructions how to use them. Gladys Linch died a week ago. Her child died at birth and Jones had deserted her for another woman. When she was dying she confessed the truth.\u2019<\/p>\n

There was a few moments\u2019 silence and then Raymond said:<\/p>\n

\u2018Well, Aunt Jane, this is one up to you. I can\u2019t think how on earth you managed to hit upon the truth. I should never have thought of the little maid in the kitchen being connected with the case.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018No, dear,\u2019 said Miss Marple, \u2018but you don\u2019t know as much of life as I do. A man of that Jones\u2019s type\u2014coarse and jovial. As soon as I heard there was a pretty young girl in the house I felt sure that he would not have left her alone. It is all very distressing and painful, and not a very nice thing to talk about. I can\u2019t tell you the shock it was to Mrs Hargraves, and a nine days\u2019 wonder in the village.\u2019<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Book Preview Chapter 1 The Tuesday Night Club \u2018Unsolved mysteries.\u2019 Raymond West blew out a cloud of smoke and repeated the words with a kind of deliberate self-conscious pleasure. \u2018Unsolved mysteries.\u2019 He looked round him with satisfaction. The room was an old one with broad black beams across the ceiling and it was furnished with … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2486,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[142],"class_list":["post-2487","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-agatha-christie"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2487","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2487"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2487\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2486"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2487"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2487"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2487"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}