“The Man in the Brown Suit” by Agatha Christie

This book – unlike most of the books written by this authors – didn’t grab my attention at once. When I first made an attempt at reading it, I did a chapter and a half – and then put the book aside. It bored me. Now I can’t believe it, because my second attempt was more successful, and the book proved excellent.

In the first chapter a Russian dancer Nadina and a Russian Count Sergius Paulovitch (not really a Russian name, to be sure), neither of whom speak a word of the language, discuss in English the feasibility of outplaying the most dangerous player – their sinister criminal boss they call “the Colonel”. The rest of the book is a narration by a young girl named Anne Beddingfeld, from time to time interrupted by extracts from the diary of Sir Eustace Pedler, M.P.

The only daughter of a famous archaeologist, Anne finds herself orphanned and penniless, trying in vain to find a job and longing for adventure. Before long she gets involved in a murder investigation (where the police fail) and spends all her money – to the last penny – to get aboard a ship going to South Africa. Her adventures begin onboard the ship, “Kilmorden Castle” – and continue when she reaches her destination.

We know from the first chapter that the Colonel’s downfall is to come through a woman. Nadine thought the fortune-teller’s prophecy referred to herself. She was wrong. Will Anne be the woman in question?

The book is thrilling. It has mystery; it has danger – more than enough to keep the reader captured from beginning to end. It also has its sentimental side – Anne finds passionate love, as well as friendship (who said that friendship between two women was impossible? Not for Anne and her new friend Suzanne!)

Also, the author promises that the Colonel will be the person least likely to be one. She’s true to her promise. Trust me, you’ll be much surprised if you read the book to the end. Another pleasant fact for me to learn was that both supposed Russians of the first chapter weren’t Russians at all – no wonder they couldn’t speak the language!

Yet another proof (if I needed one) that Agatha Christie was a genius of the genre.