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The Sunningdale Mystery: An Agatha Christie Short Story
Agatha Christie
A classic Agatha Christie short story, available individually for the first time as an ebook.Amateur detectives Tommy and Tuppence Beresford are fascinated by the case of a man murdered using a hat pin. Unsatisfied by the arrest of a woman, the couple deconstruct the case to find the real killer…



The Sunningdale Mystery
A Short Story

by Agatha Christie



Copyright (#ulink_5424d34b-639f-52bd-b27c-448d9a954a53)
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
Copyright © 2008 Agatha Christie Ltd.
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Ebook Edition © MAY 2013 ISBN: 9780007526574
Version: 2017-04-15

Contents
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Title Page (#u8f26693e-85ca-519d-a3f0-d865f0bd6303)
Copyright (#ulink_bbb4a3be-4246-5e1f-854d-2b50456817d3)
The Sunningdale Mystery (#ulink_ce7e1458-514b-5617-aa71-db94917b7efe)
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The Sunningdale Mystery (#ulink_57504a7a-f13c-5ea0-ae2f-62a0d3b0b8ea)
‘The Sunningdale Mystery’ was first published as ‘The Sunninghall Mystery’ in The Sketch, 19 October 1924. The Old Man in the Corner was created by Baroness Orczy (1865–1947).
‘Do you know where we are going to lunch today, Tuppence?’
Mrs Beresford considered the question.
‘The Ritz?’ she suggested hopefully.
‘Think again.’
‘That nice little place in Soho?’
‘No.’ Tommy’s tone was full of importance. ‘An ABC shop. This one, in fact.’
He drew her deftly inside an establishment of the kind indicated, and steered her to a corner marble-topped table.
‘Excellent,’ said Tommy with satisfaction, as he seated himself. ‘Couldn’t be better.’
‘Why has this craze for the simple life come upon you?’ demanded Tuppence.
‘You see, Watson, but you do not observe. I wonder now whether one of these haughty damsels would condescend to notice us? Splendid, she drifts this way. It is true that she appears to be thinking of something else, but doubtless her sub-conscious mind is functioning busily with such matters as ham and eggs and pots of tea. Chop and fried potatoes, please, miss, and a large coffee, a roll and butter, and a plate of tongue for the lady.’
The waitress repeated the order in a scornful tone, but Tuppence leant forward suddenly and interrupted her.
‘No, not a chop and fried potatoes. This gentleman will have a cheesecake and a glass of milk.’
‘A cheesecake and a milk,’ said the waitress with even deeper scorn, if that were possible. Still thinking of something else, she drifted away again.
‘That was uncalled for,’ said Tommy coldly.
‘But I’m right, aren’t I? You are the Old Man in the Corner? Where’s your piece of string?’
Tommy drew a long twisted mesh of string from his pocket and proceeded to tie a couple of knots in it.
‘Complete to the smallest detail,’ he murmured.
‘You made a small mistake in ordering your meal, though.’
‘Women are so literal-minded,’ said Tommy. ‘If there’s one thing I hate it’s milk to drink, and cheese-cakes are always so yellow and bilious-looking.’
‘Be an artist,’ said Tuppence. ‘Watch me attack my cold tongue. Jolly good stuff, cold tongue. Now then, I’m all ready to be Miss Polly Burton. Tie a large knot and begin.’
‘First of all,’ said Tommy, ‘speaking in a strictly unofficial capacity, let me point out this. Business is not too brisk lately. If business does not come to us, we must go to business. Apply our minds to one of the great public mysteries of the moment. Which brings me to the point – the Sunningdale Mystery.’
‘Ah!’ said Tuppence, with deep interest. ‘The Sunningdale Mystery!’
Tommy drew a crumpled piece of newspaper from his pocket and laid it on the table.
‘That is the latest portrait of Captain Sessle as it appeared in the Daily Leader.’
‘Just so,’ said Tuppence. ‘I wonder someone doesn’t sue these newspapers sometimes. You can see it’s a man and that’s all.’
‘When I said the Sunningdale Mystery, I should have said the so-called Sunningdale Mystery,’ went on Tommy rapidly.
‘A mystery to the police perhaps, but not to an intelligent mind.’
‘Tie another knot,’ said Tuppence.
‘I don’t know how much of the case you remember,’ continued Tommy quietly.
‘All of it,’ said Tuppence, ‘but don’t let me cramp your style.’
‘It was just over three weeks ago,’ said Tommy, ‘that the gruesome discovery was made on the famous golf links. Two members of the club, who were enjoying an early round, were horrified to find the body of a man lying face downwards on the seventh tee. Even before they turned him over they had guessed him to be Captain Sessle, a well-known figure on the links, and who always wore a golf coat of a peculiarly bright blue colour.
‘Captain Sessle was often seen out on the links early in the morning, practising, and it was thought at first that he had been suddenly overcome by some form of heart disease. But examination by a doctor revealed the sinister fact that he had been murdered, stabbed to the heart with a significant object, a woman’s hatpin. He was also found to have been dead at least twelve hours.
‘That put an entirely different complexion on the matter, and very soon some interesting facts came to light. Practically the last person to see Captain Sessle alive was his friend and partner, Mr Hollaby of the Porcupine Assurance Co, and he told his story as follows:
‘Sessle and he had played a round earlier in the day. After tea the other suggested that they should play a few more holes before it got too dark to see. Hollaby assented. Sessle seemed in good spirits, and was in excellent form. There is a public footpath that crosses the links, and just as they were playing up to the sixth green, Hollaby noticed a woman coming along it. She was very tall, and dressed in brown, but he did not observe her particularly, and Sessle, he thought, did not notice her at all.
‘The footpath in question crossed in front of the seventh tee,’ continued Tommy. ‘The woman had passed along this and was standing at the farther side, as though waiting. Captain Sessle was the first to reach the tee, as Mr Hollaby was replacing the pin in the hole. As the latter came towards the tee, he was astonished to see Sessle and the woman talking together. As he came nearer, they both turned abruptly, Sessle calling over his shoulder: “Shan’t be a minute.”

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