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    Cat Among the Pigeons: A Hercule Poirot Mystery: The Official Authorized Edition
    Cat Among the Pigeons: A Hercule Poirot Mystery: The Official Authorized Edition
    Cat Among the Pigeons: A Hercule Poirot Mystery: The Official Authorized Edition
    Ebook297 pages4 hours

    Cat Among the Pigeons: A Hercule Poirot Mystery: The Official Authorized Edition

    By Agatha Christie

    4/5

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    Murder is part of the curriculum at an exclusive school for girls in Agatha Christie’s Cat Among the Pigeons, as the intrepid Poirot sets out to bring a stealthy killer to justice.

    Late one night, two teachers investigate a mysterious flashing light in the sports pavilion while the rest of the school sleeps. There, among the lacrosse sticks, they stumble upon the body of an unpopular games mistress—shot through the heart point-blank.

    The school is thrown into chaos when the “cat” strikes again. Unfortunately, schoolgirl Julia Upjohn knows too much. In particular, she knows that without Hercule Poirot’s help, she will be the next victim.…

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateMar 17, 2009
    ISBN9780061740107
    Author

    Agatha Christie

    Agatha Christie is the most widely published author of all time, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. Her books have sold more than a billion copies in English and another billion in a hundred foreign languages. She died in 1976, after a prolific career spanning six decades.

    Read more from Agatha Christie

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    Reviews for Cat Among the Pigeons

    4/5

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    • 4/5
      This is one of the Agatha Christie mysteries that involves a dash of international intrigue and I always have a soft spot for these. It's set at a girls' boarding school in the UK but involves hidden jewels and the female heir to the sheikdom of a fictitious Middle Eastern country which has fallen to a revolution. But what makes the book standout from the other stories of international intrigue (which whilst I enjoy, I wouldn't say they are generally AC's best works) are the characters of the various mistresses and schoolgirls who find themselves in the middle of all this and the inevitable multiple murders which follow. It's a Poirot but he doesn't turn up until almost the end of the book after one of the schoolgirls figures out what's going on and asks for his help.
    • 4/5
      don't worry! no spoilers. Just a synopsis.I wouldn't rank it up there among my favorites, but Cat Among the Pigeons was quite good. Quite late in the Hercule Poirot series (1959), the great Belgian detective only appears toward the end of this one. Basic synopsis: Ramat, a fictional country somewhere in the Middle East, is poised on the edge of revolution. The leader at the time, one Ali Yusuf, knows that revolution is coming, and entrusts his friend and private pilot with a cache of jewels, giving him instructions to get them out of the country and into safe hands. Rawlinson cannot think how he's going to do this, then settles on the idea of hiding them with his sister, who his there with her daughter on holiday. But he can't think of a place that won't be searched, so he goes to her hotel room while she's out, and hides them in the best place he can think of: in the handle of his niece's tennis racket. The revolution comes, Ali and Rawlinson fly out, and both are killed when their plane is sabotaged.We then learn that the niece, Julia Upjohn, has enrolled at the Meadowbank school, an exclusive, upper-class establishment. After school starts, there are some strange happenings there, none the least of which are two murders. Another student, Jennifer Sutcliffe, had switched rackets with Julia, and thinks it odd when a strange woman comes to Julia and gives her a new raquet, supposedly sent to her by her aunt. After the murders, though, Jennifer begins to put two and two together and goes to seek help from M. Poirot, who doesn't take long to realize that they are dealing with a clever mind.I still cannot read any Hercule Poirot mysteries without hearing and seeing David Suchet in the Poirot role! The book was very well written and the mystery a surprise -- and I enjoyed it very much.
    • 4/5
      I love this book for the memory it evokes:

      Scene: 8th grade English class. The assignment, as it nearly always seemed to be in junior high, was to read a novel of my choice and present a book report to the class. I picked this book but did not read it. Instead, I made a ridiculous poster board with all kinds of crap on it as a visual aid (I know, right? I was one of "those" kids. I'm positive this poster board included feathers) and planned on pretending I had it done. This was primarily because I was last on the list of those who might go during Friday's class and I was pretty much banking on the other presenters going overtime so I could actually read the book over the weekend.

      With about 10 minutes left in class, the presenters are finished and I am called to go. I can still remember the feeling of my stomach dropping as I walked to the front of the class, trying to dredge as many minute details as I can from my memory of reading THE BLURB ON THE BACK OF THE BOOK. My pulse is racing and, at least in my outlandish memory of this event, I am sweating. (Closely followed up with a dramatic wipe of the brow and nervous laughter) I hold up the poster and say, "Hi. For my project, I read Agatha Christie's Cat Among the Pigeons."

      CUE THE FIRE ALARM GOING OFF.

      You better believe I read that book over the weekend. And you better believe that I still remember where Poirot found the object he was looking for--THIRTEEN YEARS LATER.
    • 3/5
      The murder of the (in American terms) gym teacher at an exclusive British girls' school is linked to the valuable package of gems dispatched by a Middle Eastern rule just before he died during a revolutuib, and also to intrigues over the succession to the retiring head of the school itself. The final choice is a little subversive by the standards of the time.
    • 5/5
      This was one of the first Christie books I ever read. I was craving mystery books but too cool to read ones with older detectives like Poirot or Miss Marple, so my mom gave me this one to read. This is a Poirot book but he doesn't make an appearance until near the end.This mystery takes place at Meadowbrook, a prestigious girls' school in England. But all is not well when murder strikes three times. Julia Upjohn is a student at Meadowbrook and when things start happening, she takes notice of some peculiarities. But she eventually calls upon the great Hercule Poirot to solve these murders.my review: Though I have read many Agatha Christie books, this remains one of my favorites, a book I can read over and over again.As usual, Christie has loads of interesting and suspicious characters, so much so that I am usually halfway through a reread before I remember who the guilty ones are. It is told through the perspective of many characters, but fifteen year old Julia is my favorite. I always thought she should have made an appearance in another Christie novel. No matter the time period, Christie mysteries are ageless. And what does a revolution and priceless gems have to do with a girls' finishing school? Read it and find out!rating 5/5
    • 4/5
      I had forgotten what a good writer she was. Really enjoyed revisiting an author I had not read in years and years.
    • 4/5
      Set in the posh girl’s boarding school of Meadowbank, Cat Among the Pigeons is a Hercule Poirot mystery. Dealing with political intrigue, missing jewels and murder, this was an interesting read, but I felt the book suffered a little from the late arrival of Poirot. The mystery was all but solved when he was brought into the story to place the final pieces of the puzzle together.I enjoyed the girl’s school setting and the interesting character sketches that were provided for many of the characters, both students and teachers. There appeared to be a feeling among the various characters that something at the school was off, that someone was there who didn’t belong, a cat among the pigeons so to say. Christie throws down plenty of false leads and red herrings but eventually Poirot has his big reveal.Written with her usual flair and style, Christie also gives her readers a fair amount of wit and humor to go along with the murder and mayhem making Cat Among the Pigeons a fun and enjoyable read.
    • 5/5
      One of the best works by Agatha Christie and the best among Hercule Poirot series. Set against the backdrop of Meadowbank school the revolution at Ramat lays heavy upon this plot. The ruler of Ramat and his friend/confidant Bob Rawlinson are murdered by the rebels. Rumors are abound that the jewels of Ramat have reached Meadowbank through Jennifer Sutcliff, Rawlinson’s niece. Cut onto Meadownbank, the scene opens with the summer term where Miss Bulstrode and her teachers are busy welcoming new and old students. The atmosphere though is rife with an implied sense of doom. As term starts, Jennifer Sutcliff confides in Julia Upjohn her best friend and tennis partner about the robbery at her home. While Julia suspects that this maybe due to the Sutcliffs’ association with the Ramat events, Jennifer dismisses it as usual. This is soon followed by a murder at Meadowbank where the Sports Pavilion is ransacked and its sports mistress is murdered. The school’s image takes a further hit with the occurrence of 2 more murders involving the deputy headmistress and the french mistress . Julia pieces together the events and reaches out to Poirot for help. The question becomes – who is the cat among the pigeons?
    • 4/5
      Poirot, who comes to this story rather late, investigates two murders and a kidnapping at a girl's boarding school. Somehow the murders and kidnapping are linked to a revolution in a Middle Eastern State and a cache of jewels belonging to the murdered Emir. As always the plot is peppered with disinformation and red-herrings and, as usual the identity of the murderer is surprise
    • 4/5
      A fine example of Christie's ability to spin a whodunnit. This is among her better later works.
    • 5/5
      what a pleasant book to read. Really ingenious of Agatha Christie. The fairly harmless girl's school, the turn of events- murder, kidnapping and unlikely reveal. Love the way everything is smoothly tied together in the end. The introduction of Hercules Poirot into the investigation, comes in very late in the book and takes one by surprise. The climax itself catches you off guard. A well knit mystery and surely one of Agatha's best. Highly recommended for everyone.
    • 2/5
      Got the distinct feeling I've read all the good Poirot's, and know I'm reading the throwaways.
    • 5/5
      Even though I read this one before, I did not remember the ending. I am usually good at detection, but this one totally threw me off. Dame Agatha is the best! Hercule Poirot rules!
    • 4/5
      a good book for an essay- enjoyable with a good plot and charcters. The ending was somewhat suprising and easy to summarize.
    • 3/5
      I think Christie does better at country-house murders than at spy stuff like this. It still held my interest, though. I'm unsure whether I admire her misdirection, or am annoyed by it.
    • 4/5
      The political intrigue bit of the book was interesting but the actual murder mystery at the girls' school was rather obvious.
    • 2/5
      In which a prim British girls’ school becomes the unlikely target for murder and espionage.

      First, a digression: even the most devoted Christie acolyte cannot deny the Dame’s faded glory in the last years of her life. "Cat Among the Pigeons" is probably more respected by some, and – as I quite enjoyed both reading it, and watching the recent David Suchet adaptation, which contained a large and talented cast, and utilised the autumnal, rueful qualities that have lately characterised Suchet’s Poirot – I don’t want to seem cruel. But for me this mediocre, if solid. Christie was by now one of the world’s foremost experts on writing a crime story, and even a misguided attempt was bound to yield some fruit.

      "Cat Among the Pigeons" is one of Poirot’s lesser novels, in my opinion. The story rests on so many contrivances – like "The Clocks", we can only believe in so many secret identities – and an annoying number of callbacks to Christie’s early days as a mediocre thriller writer, that it can’t possibly hope to match up to her skillful ‘true’ murder mysteries. There are some enchanting elements in play: Christie turns things on their head as usual, taking an Enid Blyton-style school and making it the centrepiece for murder; and, as with her later period Poirot novels, it’s nice to see the detective dealing with his age and his relationship to the modern world. (Also like several of the later Poirot novels, he arrives very late in the piece.)

      At the end of the day, Poirot fans will find things to enjoy in "Cat Among the Pigeons", and her writing style is delightfully informal. Surprisingly, for a novel that sticks in the memory for its general atmosphere, I just don’t believe it has much merit.

      Poirot ranking: 35th out of 38
    • 4/5
      I absolutely loved the setting of this - I'm a real sucker for school stories and though Poirot makes a very small appearance here, I deeply enjoyed young detective Julia and the various characters in the story. Most illuminating remarks made about teaching and managing a school, too. The plot is a bit of a departure for Christie as it involves espionnage and some of the action takes place in a foreign non-European country but the whole thing felt very logical and smooth. Very good installment.
    • 3/5
      good book.
    • 4/5
      It’s obvious Cat Among the Pigeons isn’t going to be a run-of-the-mill murder mystery, since it begins with a lot of backstory emanating from a mythical middle eastern country, where a revolution threatens the rule – and life – of a sympathetic prince. But it just so happens that a couple of girls with connections to this unstable little land will be attending Meadowbrooks, an exclusive girls’ school in England, to which the scene shifts. And soon there’s a crime: the energetic, ‘athletic’ games mistress has been gunned down in the school’s new Sports Pavilion.In terms of plotting Cat Among the Pigeons is one of Agatha Christies’ poorest efforts – Poirot isn’t introduced till the book’s two-thirds complete, and after a very, very brief investigation he unravels things in one of his longest and most prosaic monologues. In spite of this, Cat Among the Pigeons is a lovely read. The charm of the setting and several of the characters more than offsets the lack of structure. Recommended.
    • 5/5
      When this was published Christie had already been a best-selling author for more than three decades. She's got it down. Certainly she has fun with the format. Hercule Poirot doesn't appear, isn't even mentioned, until the final act. The girl's school setting is fun: it gives her rein to use all the stereotypes and to demolish them.

      This particular book was on Natasha's shelf, which is why I didn't get to it during my Christie run. Saturday night she comes to tell me goodnight and to ask if I know why the book is there. And even though I can't remember what day it is, I was able to tell her that she picked it out at a library book sale, because she recognized the author. Alternatively, every bookcase is required to have at least one Christie. Or, maybe, a book is just a clever disguise for aliens who've come to observe us. After two hours of increasingly random speculation about space, and teleportation, and replicators, she finally went off to bed, leaving the book with me, because now it felt slightly sinister.

      Subtle evil plan to acquire all the books is working. "Maniacal laugh, maniacal laugh, maniacal laugh." Personal copy now.
    • 2/5
      I haven't read any Agatha Christie in a long while. Either I don't like her as much as I used to or this wasn't one of her better books. A Hercule Poirot, but he doesn't show up until about 3/4 of the way through. Okay, but just not that good a plot. Meh.
    • 4/5
      Ramat og Meadowbank, ca 1950I den lille rige ørkenstat Ramat er der revolution og kongefamilien bliver afsat. Herskeren, prins Ali Yusut, og hans privatpilot og ven, Bob Rawlington, dør i et flystyrt. Forinden har Bob anbragt nogle værdifulde ædelsten i en tennisketsjer, som tilhører hans søster Mrs Sutcliffe eller rettere hendes datter Jennifer. Bob bliver uden at han opdager det, tilfældigvis iagttaget af en kvinde i naboværelset, men denne kan ikke nå at gøre noget, før alle engelske statsborgere bliver evakueret fra Ramat.Tilbage i England går Jennifer på den fine pigeskole Meadowbank, sammen med ca 150 andre elever. Jennifer har en god veninde Julia Upton.Udover kvinden i naboværelset, har andre også gættet på at ædelstenene er smuglet ud via Mrs Sutcliffe, men de ved ikke hvordan.Blandt eleverne på Meadowbank er også prinsesse Shaista, kusine til afdøde prins Yusuf, så det er et godt gæt at ædelstenene måske dukker op der.Den engelske udenrigsministerie kender også til ædelstenene og sætter efterretningstjenestens Oberst Ephraim Pikeaway på sagen. Han planter en agent, "gartner" "Adam" "Goodman" på skolen.Skolen ledes af Miss Honoria Bulstrode. Blandt lærerne er Miss Chadwick, der har været der siden skolens start og nærmest er en del af dens fundament. Andre lærere er Eileen Rich, Eleanor Vansittart, Ann Shapland, Miss Blanche, Miss Banon, Miss Blake og gymnastiklærerinden Grace Springer.Miss Springer bliver skudt, da hun overrasker nogen, der leder efter noget i gymnastiksalen. Senere bliver Vansittart slået ihjel samme sted med en sandpose.Julia Uptons mor genkender en af personerne på skolen, men desværre tager hun på bustur i Anatolien inden politiet når at udspørge hende.Julia Upton gætter hvor ædelstenene er skjult og opsøger Hercule Poirot, der tager affære. Mademoiselle Blanche har set noget og forsøger at afpresse morderen. Det var dumt for morderen slår prompte til igen.Til sidst bliver Mrs. Upton bragt til veje og kan udpege Miss Shapland som morderen. Hun bliver anholdt, men når at skyde Miss Chadwick, hvilket får regnskabet til at gå op, for Miss Chadwick havde slået Vansittant ihjel af raseri over at denne så ud til at blive den nye leder af skolen.Ædelstenene leverer Poirot videre til en Hr. Robinson, som leverer dem videre til Alice Calder, der er Yusufs hustru og har en søn, Allen, med ham. Julia Upton får en enkelt af stenene som en slags findeløn og alle de andre får Robinson i opdrag at sælge.
    • 5/5
      I love a good mystery and Cat among Pigeons is just that. Agatha Christie is one mystery writer I enjoy reading.There is not just one murder, but three murders in a prestigious English school, Meadowbank. The book starts out with meeting the characters before they are in school.I enjoyed the story and how it was written. I kept trying to figure out who did it and I love the fact that I didn't know until the very end.
    • 4/5
      This story takes place in an English Girl's Boarding School. However, it contains a foreign revolution, a young prince with a fortune in jewels and a young English pilot. The jewels are smuggled out of the country and end up in the girl's school, where someone who knows they are there and is willing to kill comes after them.The plot seems to progress slowly at first, but the players and setting are being carefully and skillfully arranged. I was soon involved in the characters and by the way they were described could 'see' them in my mind. I figured out before it was revealed how the jewels were smuggled and where in the girl's school they were, but it was not an obvious revealing, just putting a couple of clues together. The end was a surprise, especially when someone I was sure was involved was murdered!Cat Among the Pigeons is a perfect example of why Agatha Christie is called the Queen of Crime.Category: Mystery# pages: 292Challenges: Naming Conventions Challenge - Challenge: RYOB 2009
    • 3/5
      A child helps Hercule Poirot solve this mystery that takes place at a school for girls. One very important girl. Secrets and spies abound.
    • 4/5

      A Crown Prince who has brought Democracy to his country & his pilot (a chum from school days) are forced to flee the country.... Their plane is found downed in the mountains and a thorough search is made for the sparkling "insurance"..... but the pilot was seen hiding them in order to get them out of the country lest they fall into the wrong hands.......

      At an elite girls school in England the term has just begun and there is a new sports mistress, French mistress, school secretary, & gardner..... Dropping her daughter off at school a former employee of the CID sees someone from the past and as she tells the Headmistress (who is about to retire & name her successor), who the person from her espionage days is, they are interrupted by another mother in midst of a binge seeking to bring her daughters home.

      Then the sports mistress is murdered in the new sports pavillion, as is the French mistress, and the to be successor..... Homes are ransacked, the cousin of the Prince is kidnapped, and a frightened little girl runs to M. Hercule Poirot.

      Very interesting, I would have liked it to be a bit longer, even though in some places it was difficult for me to tell whom was speaking to whom...

      And once again, Dame Agatha showed her unending prejudice; this time it was of the two Italian school girls, whom she dedicated a paragraph to in order to refer to them as "Eye-Ties", and then there was nothing more in the book about them... otherwise it was a very enjoyable story.
    • 5/5
      Meadowbrook is a very superior sort of girls' school. So when the games mistress is found murdered, even the police are surprised. At first, it seems a burglary gone wrong. But when a hint of political intrigue pops up, they call in the services of Hercule Poirot.
    • 4/5
      Hercule Poirot becomes involved in a mystery at an exclusive girls's school.
    • 5/5
      This is actually my favourite Christie but probably because it combines my love of school stories with my love of detective stories! yes, it is a little predictable at times but there is still a classic Christie twist at the end.

    Book preview

    Cat Among the Pigeons - Agatha Christie

    Prologue

    SUMMER TERM

    I

    It was the opening day of the summer term at Meadowbank school. The late afternoon sun shone down on the broad gravel sweep in front of the house. The front door was flung hospitably wide, and just within it, admirably suited to its Georgian proportions, stood Miss Vansittart, every hair in place, wearing an impeccably cut coat and skirt.

    Some parents who knew no better had taken her for the great Miss Bulstrode herself, not knowing that it was Miss Bulstrode’s custom to retire to a kind of holy of holies to which only a selected and privileged few were taken.

    To one side of Miss Vansittart, operating on a slightly different plane, was Miss Chadwick, comfortable, knowledgeable, and so much a part of Meadowbank that it would have been impossible to imagine Meadowbank without her. It had never been without her. Miss Bulstrode and Miss Chadwick had started Meadowbank school together. Miss Chadwick wore pince-nez, stooped, was dowdily dressed, amiably vague in speech, and happened to be a brilliant mathematician.

    Various welcoming words and phrases, uttered graciously by Miss Vansittart, floated through the house.

    "How do you do, Mrs. Arnold? Well, Lydia, did you enjoy your Hellenic cruise? What a wonderful opportunity! Did you get some good photographs?

    "Yes, Lady Garnett, Miss Bulstrode had your letter about the Art Classes and everything’s been arranged.

    "How are you, Mrs. Bird? … Well? I don’t think Miss Bulstrode will have time today to discuss the point. Miss Rowan is somewhere about if you’d like to talk to her about it?

    "We’ve moved your bedroom, Pamela. You’re in the far wing by the apple tree….

    "Yes, indeed, Lady Violet, the weather has been terrible so far this spring. Is this your youngest? What is your name? Hector? What a nice aeroplane you have, Hector.

    "Très heureuse de vous voir, Madame. Ah, je regrette, ce ne serait pas possible, cette après-midi. Mademoiselle Bulstrode est tellement occupée.

    Good afternoon, Professor. Have you been digging up some more interesting things?

    II

    In a small room on the first floor, Ann Shapland, Miss Bulstrode’s secretary, was typing with speed and efficiency. Ann was a nice-looking young woman of thirty-five, with hair that fitted her like a black satin cap. She could be attractive when she wanted to be but life had taught her that efficiency and competence often paid better results and avoided painful complications. At the moment she was concentrating on being everything that a secretary to the headmistress of a famous girls’ school should be.

    From time to time, as she inserted a fresh sheet in her machine, she looked out of the window and registered interest in the arrivals.

    Goodness! said Ann to herself, awed, I didn’t know there were so many chauffeurs left in England!

    Then she smiled in spite of herself, as a majestic Rolls moved away and a very small Austin of battered age drove up. A harassed-looking father emerged from it with a daughter who looked far calmer than he did.

    As he paused uncertainly, Miss Vansittart emerged from the house and took charge.

    Major Hargreaves? And this is Alison? Do come into the house. I’d like you to see Alison’s room for yourself. I—

    Ann grinned and began to type again.

    Good old Vansittart, the glorified understudy, she said to herself. She can copy all the Bulstrode’s tricks. In fact she’s word perfect!

    An enormous and almost incredibly opulent Cadillac, painted in two tones, raspberry fool and azure blue, swept (with difficulty owing to its length) into the drive and drew up behind Major the Hon. Alistair Hargreaves’ ancient Austin.

    The chauffeur sprang to open the door, an immense bearded, dark-skinned man, wearing a flowing aba, stepped out, a Parisian fashion plate followed and then a slim dark girl.

    That’s probably Princess Whatshername herself, thought Ann. Can’t imagine her in school uniform, but I suppose the miracle will be apparent tomorrow….

    Both Miss Vansittart and Miss Chadwick appeared on this occasion.

    They’ll be taken to the Presence, decided Ann.

    Then she thought that, strangely enough, one didn’t quite like making jokes about Miss Bulstrode. Miss Bulstrode was Someone.

    So you’d better mind your P.s and Q.s, my girl, she said to herself, and finish these letters without making any mistakes.

    Not that Ann was in the habit of making mistakes. She could take her pick of secretarial posts. She had been P.A. to the chief executive of an oil company, private secretary to Sir Mervyn Todhunter, renowned alike for his erudition, his irritability and the illegibility of his handwriting. She numbered two Cabinet Ministers and an important Civil Servant among her employers. But on the whole, her work had always lain amongst men. She wondered how she was going to like being, as she put it herself, completely submerged in women. Well—it was all experience! And there was always Dennis! Faithful Dennis returning from Malaya, from Burma, from various parts of the world, always the same, devoted, asking her once again to marry him. Dear Dennis! But it would be very dull to be married to Dennis.

    She would miss the company of men in the near future. All these schoolmistressy characters—not a man about the place, except a gardener of about eighty.

    But here Ann got a surprise. Looking out of the window, she saw there was a man clipping the hedge just beyond the drive—clearly a gardener but a long way from eighty. Young, dark, good-looking. Ann wondered about him—there had been some talk of getting extra labour—but this was no yokel. Oh well, nowadays people did every kind of job. Some young man trying to get together some money for some project or other, or indeed just to keep body and soul together. But he was cutting the hedge in a very expert manner. Presumably he was a real gardener after all!

    He looks, said Ann to herself, "he looks as though he might be amusing…."

    Only one more letter to do, she was pleased to note, and then she might stroll round the garden….

    III

    Upstairs, Miss Johnson, the matron, was busy allotting rooms, welcoming newcomers, and greeting old pupils.

    She was pleased it was term time again. She never knew quite what to do with herself in the holidays. She had two married sisters with whom she stayed in turn, but they were naturally more interested in their own doings and families than in Meadowbank. Miss Johnson, though dutifully fond of her sisters, was really only interested in Meadowbank.

    Yes, it was nice that term had started—

    Miss Johnson?

    Yes, Pamela.

    "I say, Miss Johnson. I think something’s broken in my case. It’s oozed all over things. I think it’s hair oil."

    Chut, chut! said Miss Johnson, hurrying to help.

    IV

    On the grass sweep of lawn beyond the gravelled drive, Mademoiselle Blanche, the new French mistress, was walking. She looked with appreciative eyes at the powerful young man clipping the hedge.

    Assez bien, thought Mademoiselle Blanche.

    Mademoiselle Blanche was slender and mouselike and not very noticeable, but she herself noticed everything.

    Her eyes went to the procession of cars sweeping up to the front door. She assessed them in terms of money. This Meadowbank was certainly formidable! She summed up mentally the profits that Miss Bulstrode must be making.

    Yes, indeed! Formidable!

    V

    Miss Rich, who taught English and Geography, advanced towards the house at a rapid pace, stumbling a little now and then because, as usual, she forgot to look where she was going. Her hair, also as usual, had escaped from its bun. She had an eager ugly face.

    She was saying to herself:

    "To be back again! To be here … It seems years … " She fell over a rake, and the young gardener put out an arm and said:

    Steady, miss.

    Eileen Rich said Thank you, without looking at him.

    VI

    Miss Rowan and Miss Blake, the two junior mistresses, were strolling towards the Sports Pavilion. Miss Rowan was thin and dark and intense, Miss Blake was plump and fair. They were discussing with animation their recent adventures in Florence: the pictures they had seen, the sculpture, the fruit blossom, and the attentions (hoped to be dishonourable) of two young Italian gentlemen.

    Of course one knows, said Miss Blake, how Italians go on.

    Uninhibited, said Miss Rowan, who had studied Psychology as well as Economics. Thoroughly healthy, one feels. No repressions.

    But Guiseppe was quite impressed when he found I taught at Meadowbank, said Miss Blake. He became much more respectful at once. He has a cousin who wants to come here, but Miss Bulstrode was not sure she had a vacancy.

    Meadowbank is a school that really counts, said Miss Rowan, happily. Really, the new Sports Pavilion looks most impressive. I never thought it would be ready in time.

    Miss Bulstrode said it had to be, said Miss Blake in the tone of one who has said the last word.

    Oh, she added in a startled kind of way.

    The door of the Sports Pavilion had opened abruptly, and a bony young woman with ginger-coloured hair emerged. She gave them a sharp unfriendly stare and moved rapidly away.

    That must be the new Games Mistress, said Miss Blake. How uncouth!

    "Not a very pleasant addition to the staff, said Miss Rowan. Miss Jones was always so friendly and sociable."

    She absolutely glared at us, said Miss Blake resentfully.

    They both felt quite ruffled.

    VII

    Miss Bulstrode’s sitting room had windows looking out in two directions, one over the drive and lawn beyond, and another towards a bank of rhododendrons behind the house. It was quite an impressive room, and Miss Bulstrode was rather more than quite an impressive woman. She was tall, and rather noble looking, with well-dressed grey hair, grey eyes with plenty of humour in them, and a firm mouth. The success of her school (and Meadowbank was one of the most successful schools in England) was entirely due to the personality of its Headmistress. It was a very expensive school, but that was not really the point. It could be put better by saying that though you paid through the nose, you got what you paid for.

    Your daughter was educated in the way you wished, and also in the way Miss Bulstrode wished, and the result of the two together seemed to give satisfaction. Owing to the high fees, Miss Bulstrode was able to employ a full staff. There was nothing mass produced about the school, but if it was individualistic, it also had discipline. Discipline without regimentation, was Miss Bulstrode’s motto. Discipline, she held, was reassuring to the young, it gave them a feeling of security; regimentation gave rise to irritation. Her pupils were a varied lot. They included several foreigners of good family, often foreign royalty. There were also English girls of good family or of wealth, who wanted a training in culture and the arts, with a general knowledge of life and social facility who would be turned out agreeable, well groomed and able to take part in intelligent discussion on any subject. There were girls who wanted to work hard and pass entrance examinations, and eventually take degrees and who, to do so, needed only good teaching and special attention. There were girls who had reacted unfavourably to school life of the conventional type. But Miss Bulstrode had her rules, she did not accept morons, or juvenile delinquents, and she preferred to accept girls whose parents she liked, and girls in whom she herself saw a prospect of development. The ages of her pupils varied within wide limits. There were girls who would have been labelled in the past as finished, and there were girls little more than children, some of them with parents abroad, and for whom Miss Bulstrode had a scheme of interesting holidays. The last and final court of appeal was Miss Bulstrode’s own approval.

    She was standing now by the chimneypiece listening to Mrs. Gerald Hope’s slightly whining voice. With great foresight, she had not suggested that Mrs. Hope should sit down.

    Henrietta, you see, is very highly strung. Very highly strung indeed. Our doctor says—

    Miss Bulstrode nodded, with gentle reassurance, refraining from the caustic phrase she sometimes was tempted to utter.

    Don’t you know, you idiot, that that is what every fool of a woman says about her child?

    She spoke with firm sympathy.

    You need have no anxiety, Mrs. Hope. Miss Rowan, a member of our staff, is a fully trained psychologist. You’ll be surprised, I’m sure, at the change you’ll find in Henrietta (Who’s a nice intelligent child, and far too good for you) after a term or two here.

    Oh I know. You did wonders with the Lambeth child—absolutely wonders! So I am quite happy. And I—oh yes, I forgot. We’re going to the South of France in six weeks’ time. I thought I’d take Henrietta. It would make a little break for her.

    I’m afraid that’s quite impossible, said Miss Bulstrode, briskly and with a charming smile, as though she were granting a request instead of refusing one.

    Oh! but— Mrs. Hope’s weak petulant face wavered, showed temper. "Really, I must insist. After all, she’s my child."

    "Exactly. But it’s my school," said Miss Bulstrode.

    Surely I can take the child away from a school anytime I like?

    Oh yes, said Miss Bulstrode. "You can. Of course you can. But then, I wouldn’t have her back."

    Mrs. Hope was in a real temper now.

    Considering the size of the fees I pay here—

    Exactly, said Miss Bulstrode. You wanted my school for your daughter, didn’t you? But it’s take it as it is, or leave it. Like that very charming Balenciaga model you are wearing. It is Balenciaga, isn’t it? It is so delightful to meet a woman with real clothes sense.

    Her hand enveloped Mrs. Hope’s, shook it, and imperceptibly guided her towards the door.

    Don’t worry at all. Ah, here is Henrietta waiting for you. (She looked with approval at Henrietta, a nice well-balanced intelligent child if ever there was one, and who deserved a better mother.) Margaret, take Henrietta Hope to Miss Johnson.

    Miss Bulstrode retired into her sitting room and a few moments later was talking French.

    But certainly, Excellence, your niece can study modern ballroom dancing. Most important socially. And languages, also, are most necessary.

    The next arrivals were prefaced by such a gust of expensive perfume as almost to knock Miss Bulstrode backwards.

    Must pour a whole bottle of the stuff over herself every day, Miss Bulstrode noted mentally, as she greeted the exquisitely dressed dark-skinned woman.

    "Enchantée, Madame."

    Madame giggled very prettily.

    The big bearded man in Oriental dress took Miss Bulstrode’s hand, bowed over it, and said in very good English, I have the honour to bring to you the Princess Shaista.

    Miss Bulstrode knew all about her new pupil who had just come from a school in Switzerland, but was a little hazy as to who it was escorting her. Not the Emir himself, she decided, probably the Minister, or Chargé d’Affaires. As usual when in doubt, she used that useful title Excellence, and assured him that Princess Shaista would have the best of care.

    Shaista was smiling politely. She was also fashionably dressed and perfumed. Her age, Miss Bulstrode knew, was fifteen, but like many Eastern and Mediterranean girls, she looked older—quite mature. Miss Bulstrode spoke to her about her projected studies and was relieved to find that she answered promptly in excellent English and without giggling. In fact, her manners compared favourably with the awkward ones of many English school girls of fifteen. Miss Bulstrode had often thought that it might be an excellent plan to send English girls abroad to the Near Eastern countries to learn courtesy and manners there. More compliments were uttered on both sides and then the room was empty again though still filled with such heavy perfume that Miss Bulstrode opened both windows to their full extent to let some of it out.

    The next comers were Mrs. Upjohn and her daughter Julia.

    Mrs. Upjohn was an agreeable young woman in the late thirties with sandy hair, freckles and an unbecoming hat which was clearly a concession to the seriousness of the occasion, since she was obviously the type of young woman who usually went hatless.

    Julia was a plain freckled child, with an intelligent forehead, and an air of good humour.

    The preliminaries were quickly gone through and Julia was despatched via Margaret to Miss Johnson, saying cheerfully as she went, "So long, Mum. Do be careful lighting that gas heater now that I’m not there to do it."

    Miss Bulstrode turned smilingly to Mrs. Upjohn, but did not ask her to sit. It was possible that, despite Julia’s appearance of cheerful common sense, her mother, too, might want to explain that her daughter was highly strung.

    Is there anything special you want to tell me about Julia? she asked.

    Mrs. Upjohn replied cheerfully:

    Oh no, I don’t think so. Julia’s a very ordinary sort of child. Quite healthy and all that. I think she’s got reasonably good brains, too, but I daresay mothers usually think that about their children, don’t they?

    Mothers, said Miss Bulstrode grimly, vary!

    It’s wonderful for her to be able to come here, said Mrs. Upjohn. My aunt’s paying for it, really, or helping. I couldn’t afford it myself. But I’m awfully pleased about it. And so is Julia. She moved to the window as she said enviously, How lovely your garden is. And so tidy. You must have lots of real gardeners.

    We had three, said Miss Bulstrode, but just now we’re shorthanded except for local labour.

    Of course the trouble nowadays, said Mrs. Upjohn, is that what one calls a gardener usually isn’t a gardener, just a milkman who wants to do something in his spare time, or an old man of eighty. I sometimes think—Why! exclaimed Mrs. Upjohn, still gazing out of the window—how extraordinary!

    Miss Bulstrode paid less attention to this sudden exclamation than she should have done. For at that moment she herself had glanced casually out of the other window which gave on to the rhododendron shrubbery, and had perceived a highly unwelcome sight, none other than Lady Veronica Carlton-Sandways, weaving her way along the path, her large black velvet hat on one side, muttering to herself and clearly in a state of advanced intoxication.

    Lady Veronica was not an unknown hazard. She was a charming woman, deeply attached to her twin daughters, and very delightful when she was, as they put it, herself—but unfortunately at unpredictable intervals, she was not herself. Her husband, Major Carlton-Sandways, coped fairly well. A cousin lived with them, who was usually at hand to keep an eye on Lady Veronica and head her off if necessary. On Sports Day, with both Major Carlton-Sandways and the cousin in close attendance, Lady Veronica arrived completely sober and beautifully dressed and was a pattern of what a mother should be.

    But there were times when Lady Veronica gave her well-wishers the slip, tanked herself up and made a beeline for her daughters to assure them of her maternal love. The twins had arrived by train early today, but no one had expected Lady Veronica.

    Mrs. Upjohn was still talking. But Miss Bulstrode was not listening. She was reviewing various courses of action, for she recognized that Lady Veronica was fast approaching the truculent stage. But suddenly, an answer to prayer, Miss Chadwick appeared at a brisk trot, slightly out of breath. Faithful Chaddy, thought Miss Bulstrode. Always to be relied upon, whether it was a severed artery or an intoxicated parent.

    Disgraceful, said Lady Veronica to her loudly. Tried to keep me away—didn’t want me to come down here—I fooled Edith all right. Went to have my rest—got out car—gave silly old Edith slip … regular old maid … no man would ever look at her twice … Had a row with police on the way … said I was unfit to drive car … nonshense … Going to tell Miss Bulstrode I’m taking the girls home—want ’em home, mother love. Wonderful thing, mother love—

    Splendid, Lady Veronica, said Miss Chadwick. We’re so pleased you’ve come. I particularly want you to see the new Sports Pavilion. You’ll love it.

    Adroitly she turned Lady Veronica’s unsteady footsteps in the opposite direction, leading her away from the house.

    I expect we’ll find your girls there, she said brightly. Such a nice Sports Pavilion, new lockers, and a drying room for the swim suits— their voices trailed away.

    Miss Bulstrode watched. Once Lady Veronica tried to break away and return to the

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