DEATH IN THE CLOUDS
Agatha Christie
Chapter 1
The September sun beat down hotly on Le Bourget aerodrome as the
passengers crossed the ground and climbed into the air liner
"Prometheus," due to depart for Croydon in a few minutes' time.
Jane Grey was among the last to enter and take her seat, No. 16. Some
of the passengers had already passed on through the center door past
the tiny pantry kitchen and the two wash rooms to the front car. Most
people were already seated. On the opposite side of the gangway
there was a good deal of chatter - a rather shrill, high-pitched woman's
voice dominating it. Jane's lips twisted slightly. She knew that
particular type of voice so well.
"My dear, it's extraordinary - no idea... Where do you say?... Juan les
Pins?... Oh, yes... No, Le Pinet... Yes, just the same old crowd... But of
course let's sit together... Oh, can't we?... Who?... Oh, I see."
And then a man's voice, foreign, polite:
"With the greatest of pleasure, madame."
Jane stole a glance out of the corner of her eye.
A little elderly man with large mustaches and an egg-shaped head was
politely moving himself and his belongings from the seat
corresponding to Jane's on the opposite side of the gangway.
Jane turned her head slightly and got a view of the two women whose
unexpected meeting had occasioned this polite action on the
stranger's part. The mention of Le Pinet had stimulated her curiosity,
for Jane, also, had been at Le Pinet.
She remembered one of the women perfectly - remembered how she
had seen her last, at the baccarat table, her little hands clenching and
unclenching themselves; her delicately made-up, Dresden-china face
flushing and paling alternately. With a little effort, Jane thought, she
could have remembered her name. A friend had mentioned it; had
said, "She's a peeress, she is. But not one of the proper ones; she was
only some chorus girl or other."
Deep scorn in the friend's voice. That had been Maisie, who had a firstclass
job as a masseuse, taking off flesh.
The other woman, Jane thought in passing, was the real thing. "The
horsey county type," thought Jane, and forthwith forgot the two
women and interested herself in the view obtainable through the
window of Le Bourget aerodrome. Various other machines were
standing about. One of them looked like a big metallic centipede.
The one place she was obstinately determined not to look was straight
in front of her, where, on the seat opposite, sat a young man.
He was wearing a rather bright periwinkle-blue pullover. Above the
pullover, Jane was determined not to look. If she did, she might catch
his eye. And that would never do!
Mechanics shouted in French; the engine roared, relaxed, roared
again; obstructions were pulled away; the plane started.
Jane caught her breath. It was only her second flight. She was still
capable of being thrilled. It looked - it looked as though they must run
into that fence thing - no, they were off the ground, rising, rising,
sweeping round; there was Le Bourget beneath them.
The midday service to Croydon had started. It contained twenty-one
passengers - ten in the forward carriage, eleven in the rear one. It had
two pilots and two stewards. The noise of the engines was very
skillfully deadened. There was no need to put cotton wool in the ears.
Nevertheless, there was enough noise to discourage conversation and
encourage thought.
As the plane roared above France on its way to the Channel, the
passengers in the rear compartment thought their various thoughts.
Jane Grey thought: "I won't look at him - I won't. It's much better not.
I'll go on looking out of the window and thinking. I'll choose a definite
thing to think about; that's always the best way. That will keep my mind
steady. I'll begin at the beginning and go all over it."
Resolutely she switched her mind back to what she called the
beginning - that purchase of a ticket in the Irish Sweep. It had been an
extravagance, but an exciting extravagance.
A lot of laughter and teasing chatter in the hairdressing establishment
in which Jane and five other young ladies were employed:
"What'll you do if you win it, dear?"
"I know what I'd do."
Plans, castles in the air, a lot of chaff.
Well, she hadn't won it - it being the big prize. But she had won a
hundred pounds.
A hundred pounds!
"You spend half of it, dear, and keep the other half for a rainy day. You
never know."
"I'd buy a fur coat, if I was you - a real tip-top one."