Agatha Christie

“ The butler obeyed, and Mrs St Vincent was silent a moment while she studied him with earnest eyes.
She thought: "He's been kind to me-nobody knows how kind. The children wouldn't understand. This wild story of Rupert's may be all nonsense-On the other hand, there may-yes, there may-be something in it. Why should one judge? One can't know. The rights and wrongs of it, I mean... And I'd stake my life-yes, I would!- on his being a good man."
Flushed and tremulous, she spoke.
"Quentin, Mr Rupert has just got back. ”

“ II
"Quentin, where did the lilies come from? I really can't buy expensive flowers."
"They were sent up from King's Cheviot, madam. It has always been the custom here."
The butler withdrew. Mrs St Vincent heaved a sigh of relief. What would she do without Quentin? He made everything so easy. She thought to herself: "It's too good to last. I shall wake up soon, I know I shall, and find it's been all a dream. I'm so happy here-two months already, and it's passed like a flash."
Life indeed had been astonishingly pleasant. Quentin, the butler, had displayed himself the autocrat of 7 Cheviot Place. ”

“ But, after all, she might just see it. There must be some grave disadvantage attaching to it, to be offered at such a price. But her heart gave a little throb as she looked up at the outside of 7 Cheviot Place. A gem of a house. Queen Anne, and in perfect condition! A butler answered the door. He had grey hair and little side whiskers, and the meditative calm of an archbishop. A kindly archbishop, Mrs St Vincent thought.
He accepted the order with a benevolent air.
"Certainly, madam, I will show you over. The house is ready for occupation." ”

“ You are younger than either of your children. Now I am old, if you like."
But her laugh rang out in turn, a soft ripple of amusement. "You? You are a boy still. A boy who loves to dress up!" She held out her hands and he caught them in his. ”

“ I tell you, there's something very fishy about this business."
"Nonsense," said Barbara. "House belongs to a man with lots of money, he's fond of it, and he wants it lived in by decent people while he's away. Something of that kind. Money's probably no object to him."
"What did you say the address was?" asked Rupert of his mother.
"Seven Cheviot Place."
"Whew!" He pushed back his chair. "I say, this is exciting. That's the house Lord Listerdale disappeared from."
"Are you sure?" asked Mrs St Vincent doubtfully. ”

“ Young couples with their way to make, widows with sons and daughters starting in the world. Quentin has been more than butler to me; he's a friend. With his consent and assistance I borrowed his personality. I've always had a talent for acting. The idea came to me on my way to the club one night, and I went straight off to talk it over with Quentin. When I found they were making a fuss about my disappearance, I arranged that a letter should come from me in East Africa. In it, I gave full instructions to my cousin, Maurice Carfax. ”

“ Masterton laughed.
"I admire Rupert's detective zeal. No, I didn't mean anything of that kind. But there's something in the air, some atmosphere that one doesn't quite understand."
They had been three months in Cheviot Place when Barbara came to her mother with a radiant face. "Jim and I-we're engaged. Yes-last night. Oh, Mother! It all seems like a fairy tale come true." ”

“ She was inclined to suspect Quentin of usurping his master's authority. It was clear that he had taken a fancy to them, and that in his eyes nothing was too good for them.
Her curiosity aroused by Rupert's declaration, Mrs St Vincent had made a tentative reference to Lord Listerdale when she next interviewed the house agents. The white-haired old gentleman had responded immediately.
"Yes, Lord Listerdale was in East Africa, had been there for the last eighteen months."
"Our client is rather an eccentric man," he had said, smiling broadly. ”