The Mysterious Affair at Styles - by Agatha Christie
Excerpt 1
With the presence of Mr. Inglethorp, a sense of constraint and
veiled hostility seemed to settle down upon the company. Miss
Howard, in particular, took no pains to conceal her feelings.
Mrs. Inglethorp, however, seemed to notice nothing unusual. Her
volubility, which I remembered of old, had lost nothing in the
intervening years, and she poured out a steady flood of
conversation, mainly on the subject of the forthcoming bazaar
which she was organizing and which was to take place shortly.
Occasionally she referred to her husband over a question of days
or dates. His watchful and attentive manner never varied. From
the very first I took a firm and rooted dislike to him, and I
flatter myself that my first judgments are usually fairly shrewd.
Presently Mrs. Inglethorp turned to give some instructions about
letters to Evelyn Howard, and her husband addressed me in his
painstaking voice:
"Is soldiering your regular profession, Mr. Hastings?"
"No, before the war I was in Lloyd's."
"And you will return there after it is over?"
"Perhaps. Either that or a fresh start altogether."
Mary Cavendish leant forward.
"What would you really choose as a profession, if you could just
consult your inclination?"
"Well, that depends."
"No secret hobby?" she asked. "Tell me--you're drawn to
something? Every one is--usually something absurd."
"You'll laugh at me."
She smiled.
"Perhaps."
"Well, I've always had a secret hankering to be a detective!"
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