Dog of Death By Agatha Christie

1. Death Dog #1

#I

I first heard about it from William P. Ryan, a correspondent for an American newspaper. I was having dinner with him in London, the day before he returned to New York.

I happen to say that tomorrow I'm leaving for Folbridge. He said sharply, immediately,

“Folbridge, Cornwall?”

Out of a thousand people, perhaps only one knows that in Cornwall there is a place called Folbridge. Usually the Folbridge they know is Folbridge in Hampshire.

So, my curiosity was piqued by Ryan's knowledge.

“Ya,” I said. “You know that place?”

He just replied that he knew.

Then he asked me if I knew by any chance that a house called Trearne was there.

My interest is getting stoked.

“Sure to know. I'm actually going to Trearne. That's home

my sister.”

“Wah,” says William P. Ryan. “This is amazing once.” I asked him to explain, don't just make

statements that are difficult to catch mean.

“Hmm,” said. “Then, I must display my experience at the beginning of the war.” I'm sighing.

The events I'm telling you about happened in 1921. No one wants to be reminded of a time of war. We all started to forget it,

thank God.. Besides, I know that William P. Ryan can be very at home long-suffered when it comes to his experiences during the war. But it's too late to stop it now.

“At the beginning of the war, I was in Belgium, serving for the newspaper I worked for. You must know that. Well, there it is

a small village, call it village X. The village was very small, but there was a large monastery. There are nuns in white robes. I don't know the name of their order. Anyway, it doesn't matter. Well, this little village is right on the German attack line. Then the German troops arrived.. “.

I'm moving uneasily. William P's. Ryan raised his hand to calm down.

“Nothing,” said.

“This is not a story about cruelty

Germanic. It could be so, but it's not. Quite the contrary. They went to the monastery, went inside, and the building

exploded.”

“Oh.” I said, rather surprised.

“Any, right? Sure oes. How strange. We could assume that the Germans are celebrating victory and playing

great power. Well, now I'm asking you. Know what the nuns are about high-powered explosives? Great

once they, if you know.”

“Indeed strange,” I agree.

“I'm interested to hear the farmers' stories about the case. Their stories are uniform. According to them, the event is one hundred percent a modern miracle. Looks like one of the nuns already has a reputation as a saint. He likes to experience trance and get visions. And according to them, he was the one who did all that. He summoned lightning to burn the wicked Germans, and that is what happened. They're on fire, and here's everything around them.

Pretty efficient miracle!"

“I didn't get to uncover the truth behind the incident, there was no time. But at that time people were

the avid miracle - seeing angels in Mons and such. I wrote about the incident, adding a little

sentimental elements in it. A little religious too. And then send it to my newspaper office. Response is good

once in the United States. At that time they were happy with things

that kind".

“But (whether you can understand this or not) when writing it, I became interested. I want to know what happened. Nothing could be seen at the scene

by oneself. Two walls of the monastery are still standing and in one of them is a black gunpowder, in the shape of a large dog".

“The farmers around are very afraid of the sign. They called it the Death Dog, and they did not dare to pass by

close by after dark".

“Things are always an interesting thing I want to see a nun who does that miracle. Looks like he's not dead.

He went to England with a group of refugees. I've been working my way through his tracks. And I found out he's been sent to Trearne, Folbridge, Cornwall.” I'm nagging.

“My sisters are taking in a lot of Belgian refugees

at the beginning of the war. About twenty people.”

“Since I intend to dance with the nun, if there is time. I want to hear from his own mouth about the incident. But, since I was busy and there were all kinds of affairs, that intention was forgotten. Cornwall is a bit far away. In fact, I had completely forgotten my intentions, before hearing you mention Folbridge.”

“I must ask my sister,” I said.

“Maybe he had heard something about that event. But of course the Belgian refugees have been returned to the country

they're long ago.”

“For sure. But if your sister knows something please tell me.”

“I'll tell you,” I said excitedly. Such is.