Agatha Christie - The Body in the Library

T here are certain clichs belonging to certain types of fiction. The bold bad baronet for melodrama, the body in the library for the detective story. For several years I treasured up the possibility of a suitable Variation on a well-known Theme. I laid down for myself certain conditions. The library in question must be a highly orthodox and conventional library. The body, on the other hand, must be a wildly improbable and highly sensational body. Such were the terms of the problem, but for some years they remained as such, represented only by a few lines of writing in an exercise book. Then, staying one summer for a few days at a fashionable hotel by the seaside I observed a family at one of the tables in the dining room; an elderly man, a cripple, in a wheeled chair, and with him was a family party of a younger generation. Fortunately they left the next day, so that my imagination could get to work unhampered by any kind of knowledge. When people ask Do you put real people in your books? the answer is that, for me, it is quite impossible to write about anyone I know, or have ever spoken to, or indeed have even heard about! For some reason, it kills them for me stone dead. But I can take a lay figure and endow it with qualities and imaginings of my own.

So an elderly crippled man became the pivot of the story. Colonel and Mrs. Bantry, those old cronies of my Miss Marple, had just the right kind of library. In the manner of a cookery recipe add the following ingredients: a tennis pro, a young dancer, an artist, a girl guide, a dance hostess, etc., and serve up la Miss Marple!

I

M rs. Bantry was dreaming. Her sweet peas had just taken a First at the flower show. The vicar, dressed in cassock and surplice, was giving out the prizes in church. His wife wandered past, dressed in a bathing suit, but as is the blessed habit of dreams this fact did not arouse the disapproval of the parish in the way it would assuredly have done in real life.

Mrs. Bantry was enjoying her dream a good deal. She usually did enjoy those early-morning dreams that were terminated by the arrival of early-morning tea. Somewhere in her inner consciousness was an awareness of the usual early-morning noises of the household. The rattle of the curtain rings on the stairs as the housemaid drew them, the noises of the second housemaids dustpan and brush in the passage outside. In the distance the heavy noise of the front-door bolt being drawn back.

Another day was beginning. In the meantime she must extract as much pleasure as possible from the flower showfor already its dream-like quality was becoming apparent.

Below her was the noise of the big wooden shutters in the drawing room being opened. She heard it, yet did not hear it. For quite half an hour longer the usual household noises would go on, discreet, subdued, not disturbing because they were so familiar. They would culminate in a swift, controlled sound of footsteps along the passage, the rustle of a print dress, the subdued chink of tea things as the tray was deposited on the table outside, then the soft knock and the entry of Mary to draw the curtains.

In her sleep Mrs. Bantry frowned. Something disturbing was penetrating through to the dream state, something out of its time. Footsteps along the passage, footsteps that were too hurried and too soon. Her ears listened unconsciously for the chink of china, but there was no chink of china.

The knock came at the door. Automatically from the depths of her dreams Mrs. Bantry said: Come in. The door openednow there would be the chink of curtain rings as the curtains were drawn back.

But there was no chink of curtain rings. Out of the dim green light Marys voice camebreathless, hysterical: Oh, maam, oh, maam, theres a body in the library.

And then with a hysterical burst of sobs she rushed out of the room again.

II

Mrs. Bantry sat up in bed.

Either her dream had taken a very odd turn or elseor else Mary had really rushed into the room and had said (incredible! fantastic!) that there was a body in the library.

Impossible, said Mrs. Bantry to herself. I must have been dreaming.

But even as she said it, she felt more and more certain that she had not been dreaming, that Mary, her superior self-controlled Mary, had actually uttered those fantastic words.

Mrs. Bantry reflected a minute and then applied an urgent conjugal elbow to her sleeping spouse.

Arthur, Arthur, wake up.

Colonel Bantry grunted, muttered, and rolled over on his side.

Wake up, Arthur. Did you hear what she said?

Very likely, said Colonel Bantry indistinctly. I quite agree with you, Dolly, and promptly went to sleep again.

Mrs. Bantry shook him.

Youve got to listen. Mary came in and said that there was a body in the library.

Eh, what?

A body in the library.

Who said so?

Mary.

Colonel Bantry collected his scattered faculties and proceeded to deal with the situation. He said:

Nonsense, old girl; youve been dreaming.

No, I havent. I thought so, too, at first. But I havent. She really came in and said so.

Mary came in and said there was a body in the library?

Yes.

But there couldnt be, said Colonel Bantry.

No, no, I suppose not, said Mrs. Bantry doubtfully.

Rallying, she went on:

But then why did Mary say there was?

She cant have.

She did.

You must have imagined it.

I didnt imagine it.

Colonel Bantry was by now thoroughly awake and prepared to deal with the situation on its merits. He said kindly:

Youve been dreaming, Dolly, thats what it is. Its that detective story you were reading The Clue of the Broken Match. You knowLord Edgbaston finds a beautiful blonde dead on the library hearthrug. Bodies are always being found in libraries in books. Ive never known a case in real life.

Perhaps you will now, said Mrs. Bantry. Anyway, Arthur, youve got to get up and see.

But really, Dolly, it must have been a dream. Dreams often do seem wonderfully vivid when you first wake up. You feel quite sure theyre true.

I was having quite a different sort of dreamabout a flower show and the vicars wife in a bathing dresssomething like that.

With a sudden burst of energy Mrs. Bantry jumped out of bed and pulled back the curtains. The light of a fine autumn day flooded the room.

I did not dream it, said Mrs. Bantry firmly. Get up at once, Arthur, and go downstairs and see about it.

You want me to go downstairs and ask if theres a body in the library? I shall look a damned fool.

You neednt ask anything, said Mrs. Bantry. If there is a bodyand of course its just possible that Marys gone mad and thinks she sees things that arent therewell, somebody will tell you soon enough. You wont have to say a word.

Grumbling, Colonel Bantry wrapped himself in his dressing gown and left the room. He went along the passage and down the staircase. At the foot of it was a little knot of huddled servants; some of them were sobbing. The butler stepped forward impressively.

Im glad you have come, sir. I have directed that nothing should be done until you came. Will it be in order for me to ring up the police, sir?

Ring em up about what?

The butler cast a reproachful glance over his shoulder at the tall young woman who was weeping hysterically on the cooks shoulder.

I understood, sir, that Mary had already informed you. She said she had done so.

Mary gasped out:

I was so upset I dont know what I said. It all came over me again and my legs gave way and my inside turned over. Finding it like thatoh, oh, oh!