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The Unbreakable Alibi
A Short Story
by Agatha Christie
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
First published 2008
Copyright © 2008 Agatha Christie Ltd.
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2013
Agatha Christie asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental
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Ebook Edition © SEPTEMBER 2013 ISBN: 9780007526796
Version: 2017-04-15
Contents
‘The Unbreakable Alibi’ was originally the last Tommy and Tuppence story, appearing in Holly Leaves (published by Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News), 1 December 1928. Inspector French was created by Freeman Wills Croft (1879–1957).
Tommy and Tuppence were busy sorting correspondence. Tuppence gave an exclamation and handed a letter across to Tommy.
‘A new client,’ she said importantly.
‘Ha!’ said Tommy. ‘What do we deduce from this letter, Watson? Nothing much, except the somewhat obvious fact that Mr – er – Montgomery Jones is not one of the world’s best spellers, thereby proving that he has been expensively educated.’
‘Montgomery Jones?’ said Tuppence. ‘Now what do I know about a Montgomery Jones? Oh, yes, I have got it now. I think Janet St Vincent mentioned him. His mother was Lady Aileen Montgomery, very crusty and high church, with gold crosses and things, and she married a man called Jones who is immensely rich.’
‘In fact the same old story,’ said Tommy. ‘Let me see, what time does this Mr M. J. wish to see us? Ah, eleven-thirty.’
At eleven-thirty precisely, a very tall young man with an amiable and ingenuous countenance entered the outer office and addressed himself to Albert, the office boy.
‘Look here – I say. Can I see Mr – er – Blunt?’
‘Have you an appointment, sir?’ said Albert.
‘I don’t quite know. Yes, I suppose I have. What I mean is, I wrote a letter –’
‘What name, sir?’
‘Mr Montgomery Jones.’
‘I will take your name in to Mr Blunt.’
He returned after a brief interval.
‘Will you wait a few minutes please, sir. Mr Blunt is engaged on a very important conference at present.’
‘Oh – er – yes – certainly,’ said Mr Montgomery Jones.
Having, he hoped, impressed his client sufficiently Tommy rang the buzzer on his desk, and Mr Montgomery Jones was ushered into the inner office by Albert.
Tommy rose to greet him, and shaking him warmly by the hand motioned towards the vacant chair.
‘Now, Mr Montgomery Jones,’ he said briskly. ‘What can we have the pleasure of doing for you?’
Mr Montgomery Jones looked uncertainly at the third occupant of the office.
‘My confidential secretary, Miss Robinson,’ said Tommy. ‘You can speak quite freely before her. I take it that this is some family matter of a delicate kind?’
‘Well – not exactly,’ said Mr Montgomery Jones.
‘You surprise me,’ said Tommy. ‘You are not in trouble of any kind yourself, I hope?’
‘Oh, rather not,’ said Mr Montgomery Jones.
‘Well,’ said Tommy, ‘perhaps you will – er – state the facts plainly.’
That, however, seemed to be the one thing that Mr Montgomery Jones could not do.
‘It’s a dashed odd sort of thing I have got to ask you,’ he said hesitatingly. ‘I – er – I really don’t know how to set about it.’
‘We never touch divorce cases,’ said Tommy.
‘Oh Lord, no,’ said Mr Montgomery Jones. ‘I don’t mean that. It is just, well – it’s a deuced silly sort of a joke. That’s all.’
‘Someone has played a practical joke on you
