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At the "Bells and Motley": A Mysterious Mr. Quin Story
At the "Bells and Motley": A Mysterious Mr. Quin Story
At the "Bells and Motley": A Mysterious Mr. Quin Story
Ebook41 pages25 minutes

At the "Bells and Motley": A Mysterious Mr. Quin Story

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Previously published in the print anthology The Mysterious Mr. Quin.

When Mr. Satterthwaite’s chauffeured car breaks down in isolated Kirklington Mallet, he seeks refuge at the local inn. There he finds only one other guest—the mysterious Mr. Quin. Can they both save Stephen, a local man, from being unjustly sentenced for murder?

LanguageEnglish
PublisherHarperCollins
Release dateOct 1, 2013
ISBN9780062302281
At the "Bells and Motley": A Mysterious Mr. Quin Story
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.

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    At the "Bells and Motley" - Agatha Christie

    Contents

    At the Bells and Motley

    About the Author

    The Agatha Christie Collection

    Copyright

    About the Publisher

    AT THE BELLS AND MOTLEY

    Mr. Satterthwaite was annoyed. Altogether it had been an unfortunate day. They had started late, there had been two punctures already, finally they had taken the wrong turning and lost themselves amidst the wilds of Salisbury Plain. Now it was close on eight o’clock, they were still a matter of forty miles from Marswick Manor whither they were bound, and a third puncture had supervened to render matters still more trying.

    Mr. Satterthwaite, looking like some small bird whose plumage had been ruffled, walked up and down in front of the village garage whilst his chauffeur conversed in hoarse undertones with the local expert.

    "Half an hour at least," said that worthy pronouncing judgment.

    And lucky at that, supplemented Masters, the chauffeur. More like three quarters if you ask me.

    What is this—place, anyway? demanded Mr. Satterthwaite fretfully. Being a little gentleman considerate of the feelings of others, he substituted the word place for God-forsaken hole which had first risen to his lips.

    Kirtlington Mallet.

    Mr. Satterthwaite was not much wiser, and yet a faint familiarity seemed to linger round the name. He looked round him disparagingly. Kirtlington Mallet seemed to consist of one straggling street, the garage and the post office on one side of it balanced by three indeterminate shops on the other side. Farther down the road, however, Mr. Satterthwaite perceived something that creaked and swung in the wind, and his spirits rose ever so slightly.

    There’s an Inn here, I see, he remarked.

    ‘Bells and Motley,’ said the garage man. That’s it—yonder.

    If I might make a suggestion, sir, said Masters, "why not try it? They would be able to give you some sort

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