Sylvia Webb, a young secretary, arrives at No. 19 Wilbraham Crescent for a 3 o'clock appointment, only to find a murdered man & four clocks set at 4:13. Detective Inspector Hardcastle examines the witnesses: Sylvia; Miss Millicent Pebmarsh, the blind owner of the house; & Colin Lamb, an innocent passer-by. Hercule Poirot is asked to review the case
There are no customer reviews available at this time. Would you like to write a review?
William Morrow Paperbacks
February 29, 2000
Number of Print Pages*
Adobe DRM EPUB
* Number of eBook pages may differ. Click here for more information.
Excerpt from The Clocks by Agatha Christie
Colin Lamb's Narrative
To use police terms: at 2.59 p.m. on September 9th, I was proceeding along Wilbraham Crescent in a westerly direction. It was my first introduction to Wilbraham Crescent, and frankly Wilbraham Crescent had me baffled.
I had been following a hunch with a persistence becoming more dogged day by day as the hunch seemed less and less likely to pay off. I'm like that.
The number I wanted was 61, and could I find it? No, I could not. Having studiously followed the numbers from 1 to 35, Wilbraham Crescent then appeared to end. A thoroughfare uncompromisingly labelled Albany Road barred my way. I turned back. On the north side there were no houses, only a wall. Behind the wall, blocks of modern flats soared upwards, the entrance of them being obviously in another road. No help there.
I looked up at the numbers I was passing. 24, 23, 22, 21. Diana Lodge (presumably 20, with an orange cat on the gate post washing its face), 19
The door of 19 opened and a girl came out of it and down the path with what seemed to be the speed of a bomb. The likeness to a bomb was intensified by the screaming that accompanied her progress. It was high and thin and singularly inhuman. Through the gate the girl came and collided with me with a force that nearly knocked me off the pavement. She did not only collide. She clutched a frenzied desperate clutching.
'Steady,' I said, as I recovered my balance. I shook her slightly. 'Steady now.'
The girl steadied. She still clutched, but she stopped screaming. Instead she gasped deep sobbing gasps.
I can't say that I reacted to the situation with any brilliance. I asked her if anything was the matter. Recognizing that my question was singularly feeble I amended it.