Agatha Christie The Hollow Chapter I At 6:13 a.m. ... - bzelbublive.info

hours of the morning? Had he gone out? Inactivity at last became too much forher.She got up, slipped on her dressing gown and taking a flashlight, she opened her doorand came out into the passage. It was quite dark, no lights had been switched on.Midge turned to the left and came to the head of the staircase. Below all was darktoo. She ran down the stairs and after a moment's hesitation switched on the light inthe hall. Everything was silent. The front door was closed and locked. She tried theside door but that too was locked. Edward, then, had not gone out. Where could hebe? And suddenly she raised her head and sniffed. A whiff--a very faint whiffof gas. The baize door to the kitchen quarters wasjust ajar. She went through it--a faint light was shining from the open kitchen door.The smell of gas ^as much stronger. Midge ran along the passage and into thekitchen. Edward was lying on the floor with his head inside the gas oven which wasturned on full- Midge was a quick practical girl. Her first act was to swing open theshutters. She could not unlatch the window and winding a glass cloth round herarm, she smashed it. Then, holding her breath, she stooped down and tugged andpulled Edward out of the gas oven and switched off the taps. He was unconsciousand breathing queerly, but she knew that he could not have been unconscious long.He could only just have gone under. The wind sweeping through from the windowto the open doorwas fast dispelling the gas fumes. Midge dragged Edward to a spot near the windowwhere the air would have full play. She sat down and gathered him into her strongyoung arms. She said his name, first softly, then with increasing desperation:"Edward, Edward, Edward, Edward. ..." He stirred, groaned, opened his eyesand looked up at her. He said very faintly, "Gas oven ..." and his eyes wentround to the gas stove. "I know, darling, but why—why?" He was shivering now,his hands were cold and lifeless.He said, "Midge?" There was a kind of wondering surprise and pleasure in hisvoice. She said, "I heard you pass my door . . . I didn't know ... I came down."He sighed--a very long sigh as though from very far away. "Best way out," he said.And then, inexplicably, until she remembered Lucy's conversation on the night of thetragedy, "News of the World." "But, Edward, why--why?" He looked up at herand the blank, cold darkness of his stare frightened her. "Because I know now I'venever been any good. Always a failure. Always ineffectual. It's men like Christowwho do things. They get there and women admire them. I'm nothing--I'm not evenquite alive. I inheritedAinswick and I've enough to live on-- otherwise I'd have gone under. No good at acareer--never much good as a writer. Henrietta didn't want me. No one wanted me.That day--at the Berkeley--I thought--but it was the same story. You couldn't care either,Midge. Even for Ainswick you couldn't put up with me ... So I thought better getout altogether." Her words came with a rush. "Darling, darling. You don't