Five Little Pigs   ::   Christie Agatha

I wanted to get ather-to kill her…

Howcould she do it? Howcould she? He was so alive, so full of life and vigour. To put all that out-to make him limp and cold. Just so that I shouldn’t have him.

Horrible woman…

Horrible, scornful, cruel, vindictive woman…

I hate her. I still hate her.

They didn’t even hang her.

They ought to have hanged her…

Even hanging was too good for her…

I hate her…I hate her…I hate her…



Narrative of Cecilia Williams



Dear M. Poirot,

I am sending you an account of those events in September, 19…actually witnessed by myself.

I have been absolutely frank and have kept nothing back. You may show it to Carla Crale. It may pain her, but I have always been a believer in truth. Palliatives are harmful. One must have the courage to face reality. Without that courage, life is meaningless. The people who do us most harm are the people who shield us from reality.

Believe me, yours sincerely,

Cecilia Williams

My name is Cecilia Williams. I was engaged by Mrs Crale as governess to her half-sister Angela Warren, in 19…I was then forty-eight.

I took up my duties at Alderbury, a very beautiful estate in south Devon which had belonged to Mr Crale’s family for many generations. I knew that Mr Crale was a well-known painter, but I did not meet him until I took up residence at Alderbury.

The household consisted of Mr and Mrs Crale, Angela Warren (then a girl of thirteen), and three servants, all of whom had been with the family many years.

I found my pupil an interesting and promising character. She had very marked abilities and it was a pleasure to teach her. She was somewhat wild and undisciplined, but these faults arose mainly through high spirits, and I have always preferred my girls to show spirit. An excess of vitality can be trained and guided into paths of real usefulness and achievement.

On the whole, I found Angela amenable to discipline. She had been somewhat spoiled-mainly by Mrs Crale, who was far too indulgent where she was concerned. Mr Crale’s influence was, I considered, unwise. He indulged her absurdly one day, and was unnecessarily peremptory on another occasion. He was very much a man of moods-possibly owing to what is styled the artistic temperament.

I have never seen, myself, why the possession of artistic ability should be supposed to excuse a man from a decent exercise of self-control. I did not myself admire Mr Crale’s paintings.