Death in the Clouds_ A Hercule Poirot My

DeathintheClouds
ToOrmondBeadle
Contents
AboutAgathaChristie
TheAgathaChristieCollection
PlanofRearCar‘Prometheus’
1ParistoCroydon
2Discovery
3Croydon
4TheInquest
5AftertheInquest
6Consultation
7Probabilities
8TheList
9EliseGrandier
10TheLittleBlackBook
11TheAmerican
12AtHorburyChase
13AtAntoine’s
14AtMuswellHill
15InBloomsbury
16PlanofCampaign
17InWandsworth
18InQueenVictoriaStreet
19EnterandExitMrRobinson
20InHarleyStreet
21TheThreeClues
22JaneTakesaNewJob
23AnneMorisot
24ABrokenFinger-Nail
25‘IAmAfraid’
26AfterDinnerSpeech
Credits
Copyright
www.agathachristie.com
AboutthePublisher
PlanofRearCar‘Prometheus’
Passengers
Seat
No.2MadameGiselle
No.4JamesRyder
No.5MonsieurArmandDupont
No.6MonsieurJeanDupont
No.8DanielClancy
No.9HerculePoirot
No.10DoctorBryant
No.12NormanGale
No.13TheCountessofHorbury
No.16JaneGrey
No.17TheHon.VenetiaKerr
Chapter1
ParistoCroydon
TheSeptembersunbeatdownhotlyonLeBourgetaerodromeasthepassengerscrossedthegroundandclimbedintotheairlinerPrometheus,duetodepartforCroydoninafewminutes’time.
JaneGreywasamongthelasttoenterandtakeherseat,No.16.Someofthepassengershadalreadypassedonthroughthecentredoorpastthetinypantry-kitchenandthetwotoiletstothefrontcar.Mostpeoplewerealreadyseated.Ontheoppositesideofthegangwaytherewasagooddealofchatter—arathershrill,high-pitchedwoman’svoicedominatingit.Jane’slipstwistedslightly.Sheknewthatparticulartypeofvoicesowell.
‘Mydear—it’sextraordinary—noidea—Where,doyousay?JuanlesPins?Oh,yes.No—LePinet—Yes,justthesameoldcrowd—Butofcourselet’ssittogether.Oh,can’twe?Who—?Oh,Isee…’
Andthenaman’svoice—foreign,polite:
‘—Withthegreatestofpleasure,Madame.’
Janestoleaglanceoutofthecornerofhereye.
Alittleelderlymanwithlargemoustachesandanegg-shapedheadwaspolitelymovinghimselfandhisbelongingsfromtheseatcorrespondingtoJane’sontheoppositesideofthegangway.
Janeturnedherheadslightlyandgotaviewofthetwowomenwhoseunexpectedmeetinghadoccasionedthispoliteactiononthestranger’spart.ThementionofLePinethadstimulatedhercuriosity,forJanealsohadbeenatLePinet
Sherememberedoneofthewomenperfectly—rememberedhowshehadseenherlast—atthebaccarattable,herlittlehandsclenchingandunclenchingthemselves—herdelicatelymade-upDresdenchinafaceflushingandpalingalternately.Withalittleeffort,Janethought,shecouldhaverememberedhername.Afriendhadmentionedit—hadsaid:‘She’sapeeress,sheis,butnotoneoftheproperones—shewasonlysomechorusgirlorother.’
Deepscorninthefriend’svoice.ThathadbeenMaisie,whohadafirst-classjobasamasseuse‘takingoff’flesh.
Theotherwoman,Janethoughtinpassing,wasthe‘realthing’.The‘horsey,countytype’,thoughtJane,andforthwithforgotthetwowomenandinterestedherselfintheviewobtainablethroughthewindowofLeBourgetaerodrome.Variousothermachineswerestandingabout.Oneofthemlookedlikeabigmetalliccentipede.
Theoneplaceshewasobstinatelydeterminednottolookwasstraightinfrontofher,where,ontheseatopposite,satayoungman.
Hewaswearingaratherbrightperiwinkle-bluepullover.AbovethepulloverJanewasdeterminednottolook.Ifshedid,shemightcatchhiseye,andthatwouldneverdo!
MechanicsshoutedinFrench—theengineroared—relaxed—roaredagain—obstructionswerepulledaway—theplanestarted.
Janecaughtherbreath.Itwasonlyhersecondflight.Shewasstillcapableofbeingthrilled.Itlooked—itlookedasthoughtheymustrunintothatfencething—no,theywereofftheground—rising—rising—sweepinground—therewasLeBourgetbeneaththem.
ThemiddayservicetoCroydonhadstarted.Itcontainedtwenty-onepassengers—tenintheforwardcarriage,elevenintherearone.Ithadtwopilotsandtwostewards.Thenoiseoftheengineswasveryskilfullydeadened.Therewasnoneedtoputcottonwoolintheears.Neverthelesstherewasenoughnoisetodiscourageconversationandencouragethought.
AstheplaneroaredaboveFranceonitswaytotheChannelthepassengersintherearcompartmentthoughttheirvariousthoughts.
JaneGreythought:‘Iwon’tlookathim…Iwon’t…It’smuchbetternot.I’llgoonlookingoutofthewindowandthinking.I’llchooseadefinitethingtothinkabout—that’salwaysthebestway.Thatwillkeepmymindsteady.I’llbeginatthebeginningandgoalloverit.’
Resolutelysheswitchedhermindbacktowhatshecalledthebeginning,thatpurchaseofaticketintheIrishSweep.Ithadbeenanextravagance,butanexcitingextravagance.
AlotoflaughterandteasingchatterinthehairdressingestablishmentinwhichJaneandfiveotheryoungladieswereemployed.
‘What’llyoudoifyouwinit,dear?’
‘IknowwhatI’ddo.’
Plans—castlesintheair—alotofchaff.
Well,shehadn’twon‘it’—‘it’beingthebigprize;butshehadwonahundredpounds.
Ahundredpounds.
‘Youspendhalfofit,dear,andkeeptheotherhalfforarainyday.Youneverknow.’
‘I’dbuyafurcoat,ifIwasyou—arealtip-topone.’
‘Whataboutacruise?’
Janehadwaveredatthethoughtofa‘cruise’,butintheendshehadremainedfaithfultoherfirstidea.AweekatLePinet.SomanyofherladieshadbeengoingtoLePinetorjustcomebackfromLePinet.Jane,hercleverfingerspattingandmanipulatingthewaves,hertongueutteringmechanicallytheusualclichés,‘Letmesee,howlongisitsinceyouhadyourperm,Madam?’‘Yourhair’ssuchanuncommoncolour,Madam.’‘Whatawonderfulsummerithasbeen,hasn’tit,Madam?’hadthoughttoherself,‘Whythedevilcan’tIgotoLePinet?’Well,nowshecould.
Clothespresentedsmalldifficulty.Jane,likemostLondongirlsemployedinsmartplaces,couldproduceamiraculouseffectoffashionforaridiculouslysmalloutlay.Nails,make-upandhairwerebeyondreproach.
JanewenttoLePinet.
Wasitpossiblethatnow,inherthoughts,tendaysatLePinethaddwindleddowntooneincident?
Anincidentattheroulettetable.Janeallowedherselfacertainamounteacheveningforthepleasuresofgambling.Thatsumshewasdeterminednottoexceed.Contrarytotheprevalentsuperstition,Jane’sbeginner’sluckhadbeenbad.Thiswasherfourtheveningandthelaststakeofthatevening.Sofarshehadstakedprudentlyoncolourorononeofthedozens.Shehadwonalittle,butlostmore.Nowshewaited,herstakeinherhand.
Thereweretwonumbersonwhichnobodyhadstaked,fiveandsix.Shouldsheputthis,herlaststake,ononeofthosenumbers?Ifso,whichofthem?Five,orsix?Whichdidshefeel?
Five—fivewasgoingtoturnup.Theballwasspun.Janestretchedoutherhand.Six,she’dputitonsix.
Justintime.Sheandanotherplayeroppositestakedsimultaneously,sheonsix,heonfive.
‘Riennevaplus,’saidthecroupier.
Theballclicked,settled.
‘Lenumérocinq,rouge,impair,manque.’
Janecouldhavecriedwithvexation.Thecroupiersweptawaythestakes,paidout.Themanoppositesaid:‘Aren’tyougoingtotakeupyourwinnings?’
‘Mine?’
‘Yes.’
‘ButIputonsix.’
‘Indeedyoudidn’t.Iputonsixandyouputonfive.’
Hesmiled—averyattractivesmile.Whiteteethinaverybrownface,blueeyes,crispshorthair.
HalfunbelievinglyJanepickeduphergains.Wasittrue?Shefeltalittlemuddledherself.Perhapsshehadputhercountersonfive.Shelookeddoubtinglyatthestrangerandhesmiledeasilyback.
‘That’sright,’hesaid.‘Leaveathinglyingthereandsomebodyelsewillgrabitwhohasgotnorighttoit.That’sanoldtrick.’
Thenwithafriendlylittlenodoftheheadhehadmovedaway.That,too,hadbeenniceofhim.Shemighthavesuspectedotherwisethathehadlethertakehiswinningsinordertoscrapeacquaintancewithher.Buthewasn’tthatkindofman.Hewasnice…(Andherehewassittingoppositetoher.)
Andnowitwasallover—themoneyspent—alasttwodays(ratherdisappointingdays)inParis,andnowhomeonherreturnairticket.
‘Andwhatnext?’
‘Stop,’saidJanetohermind.‘Don’tthinkofwhat’sgoingtohappennext.It’llonlymakeyounervous.’
Thetwowomenhadstoppedtalking.
Shelookedacrossthegangway.TheDresdenchinawomanexclaimedpetulantly,examiningabrokenfinger-nail.Sherangthebellandwhenthewhite-coatedstewardappearedshesaid:
‘Sendmymaidtome.She’sintheothercompartment.’
‘Yes,mylady.’
Thesteward,verydeferential,veryquickandefficient,disappearedagain.Adark-hairedFrenchgirldressedinblackappeared.Shecarriedasmalljewelcase.
LadyHorburyspoketoherinFrench:
‘Madeleine,Iwantmyredmoroccocase.’
Themaidpassedalongthegangway.Attheextremeendofthecarweresomepiled-uprugsandcases.
Thegirlreturnedwithasmallreddressing-case.
CicelyHorburytookitanddismissedthemaid.
‘That’sallright,Madeleine.I’llkeepithere.’
Themaidwentoutagain.LadyHorburyopenedthecaseandfromthebeautifullyfittedinteriorsheextractedanailfile.Thenshelookedlongandearnestlyatherfaceinasmallmirrorandtouchedituphereandthere—alittlepowder,morelipsalve.
Jane’slipscurledscornfully;herglancetravelledfartherdownthecar.
Behindthetwowomenwasthelittleforeignerwhohadyieldedhisseattothe‘county’woman.Heavilymuffledupinunnecessarymufflers,heappearedtobefastasleep.PerhapsmadeuneasybyJane’sscrutiny,hiseyesopened,lookedatherforamoment,thenclosedagain.
Besidehimsatatall,grey-hairedmanwithanauthoritativeface.Hehadaflutecaseopeninfrontofhimandwaspolishingtheflutewithlovingcare.Funny,Janethought,hedidn’tlooklikeamusician—morelikealawyeroradoctor.
BehindthosetwowereacoupleofFrenchmen,onewithabeardandonemuchyounger—perhapshisson.Theyweretalkingandgesticulatinginanexcitedmanner.
OnherownsideofthecarJane’sviewwasblockedbythemaninthebluepullover,themanatwhom,forsomeabsurdreason,shewasdeterminednottolook
‘Absurdtofeel—so—soexcited.Imightbeseventeen,’thoughtJanedigustedly.
Oppositeher,NormanGalewasthinking:
‘She’spretty—reallypretty—Sheremembersmeallright.Shelookedsodisappointedwhenherstakesweresweptaway.Itwasworthalotmorethanthattoseeherpleasurewhenshewon.Ididthatratherwell…She’sveryattractivewhenshesmiles—nopyorrhoeathere—healthygumsandsoundteeth…Damnit,Ifeelquiteexcited.Steady,myboy…’
Hesaidtothestewardwhohoveredathissidewiththemenu,‘I’llhavecoldtongue.’
TheCountessofHorburythought,‘MyGod,whatshallIdo?It’sthehellofamess—thehellofamess.There’sonlyonewayoutthatIcansee.IfonlyIhadthenerve.CanIdoit?CanIbluffitout?Mynervesarealltopieces.That’sthecoke.WhydidIevertaketocoke?Myfacelooksawful,simplyawful.ThatcatVenetiaKerrbeingheremakesitworse.ShealwayslooksatmeasthoughIweredirt.WantedStephenherself.Well,shedidn’tgethim!Thatlongfaceofhersgetsonmynerves.It’sexactlylikeahorse.Ihatethesecountywomen.MyGod,whatshallIdo?I’vegottomakeupmymind.Theoldbitchmeantwhatshesaid…’
Shefumbledinhervanitybagforhercigarette-caseandfittedacigaretteintoalongholder.Herhandsshookslightly.
TheHonourableVenetiaKerrthought:‘Bloodylittletart.That’swhatsheis.Shemaybetechnicallyvirtuous,butshe’satartthroughandthrough.PooroldStephen…ifhecouldonlygetridofher…’
Sheinturnfeltforhercigarette-case.SheacceptedCicelyHorbury’smatch.
Thestewardsaid,‘Excuseme,ladies,nosmoking.’
CicelyHorburysaid,‘Hell!’
M.HerculePoirotthought,‘Sheispretty,thatlittleoneoverthere.Thereisdeterminationinthatchin.Whyisshesoworriedoversomething?Whyisshesodeterminednottolookatthehandsomeyoungmanoppositeher?Sheisverymuchawareofhimandheofher…’Theplanedroppedslightly.‘Monestomac,’thoughtHerculePoirot,andclosedhiseyesdeterminedly.
BesidehimDrBryant,caressinghisflutewithnervoushands,thought,‘Ican’tdecide.Isimplycannotdecide.Thisistheturningpointofmycareer…’
Nervouslyhedrewouthisflutefromitscase,caressingly,lovingly…Music…Inmusictherewasanescapefromallyourcares.Halfsmilingheraisedtheflutetohislips,thenputitdownagain.Thelittlemanwiththemoustachesbesidehimwasfastasleep.Therehadbeenamoment,whentheplanehadbumpedalittle,whenhehadlookeddistinctlygreen.DrBryantwasgladthathehimselfwasneithertrain-sicknorsea-sicknorair-sick…
M.DupontpèreturnedexcitedlyinhisseatandshoutedatM.Dupontfilssittingbesidehim.
‘Thereisnodoubtaboutit.Theyareallwrong—theGermans,theAmericans,theEnglish!Theydatetheprehistoricpotteryallwrong.TaketheSamarraware—’
JeanDupont,tall,fair,withafalseairofindolence,said:
‘Youmusttaketheevidencesfromallsources.ThereisTallHalaf,andSakjeGeuze—’
Theyprolongedthediscussion.
ArmandDupontwrenchedopenabatteredattachécase.
‘TaketheseKurdishpipes,suchastheymaketoday.Thedecorationonthemisalmostexactlysimilartothatonthepotteryof5000BC.’
Aneloquentgesturealmostsweptawaytheplatethatastewardwasplacinginfrontofhim.
MrClancy,writerofdetectivestories,rosefromhisseatbehindNormanGaleandpaddedtotheendofthecar,extractedacontinentalBradshawfromhisraincoatpocketandreturnedwithittoworkoutacomplicatedalibiforprofessionalpurposes.
MrRyder,intheseatbehindhim,thought,‘I’llhavetokeepmyendup,butit’snotgoingtobeeasy.Idon’tseehowI’mgoingtoraisethedibsforthenextdividend…Ifwepassthedividendthefat’sinthefire…Oh,hell!’
NormanGaleroseandwenttothetoilet.AssoonashehadgoneJanedrewoutamirrorandsurveyedherfaceanxiously.Shealsoappliedpowderandlipstick
Astewardplacedcoffeeinfrontofher
Janelookedoutofthewindow.TheChannelshowedblueandshiningbelow.
AwaspbuzzedroundMrClancy’sheadjustashewasdealingwith19.55atTzaribrod,andhestruckatitabsently.ThewaspflewofftoinvestigatetheDuponts’coffeecups.
JeanDupontslewitneatly.
Peacesettleddownonthecar.Conversationceased,butthoughtspursuedtheirway.
Rightattheendofthecar,inseatNo.2,MadameGiselle’sheadlolledforwardalittle.Onemighthavetakenhertobeasleep.Butshewasnotasleep.Sheneitherspokenorthought.
MadameGisellewasdead…
Chapter2
Discovery
HenryMitchell,theseniorofthetwostewards,passedswiftlyfromtabletotabledepositingbills.Inhalfanhour’stimetheywouldbeatCroydon.Hegatheredupnotesandsilver,bowed,said,‘Thankyou,sir.Thankyou,Madam.’AtthetablewherethetwoFrenchmensathehadtowaitaminuteortwo,theyweresobusydiscussingandgesticulating.Andtherewouldn’tbemuchofatipanywayfromthem,hethoughtgloomily.Twoofthepassengerswereasleep—thelittlemanwiththemoustaches,andtheoldwomandownattheend.Shewasagoodtipper,though—herememberedhercrossingseveraltimes.Herefrainedthereforefromawakingher.
Thelittlemanwiththemoustacheswokeupandpaidforthebottleofsodawaterandthethincaptainbiscuits,whichwasallhehadhad.
Mitchelllefttheotherpassengeraslongaspossible.AboutfiveminutesbeforetheyreachedCroydonhestoodbyhersideandleantoverher.
‘Pardon,Madam,yourbill.’
Helaidadeferentialhandonhershoulder.Shedidnotwake.Heincreasedthepressure,shakinghergently,buttheonlyresultwasanunexpectedslumpingofthebodydownintheseat.Mitchellbentoverher,thenstraightenedupwithawhiteface.
II
AlbertDavis,secondsteward,said:
‘Coo!Youdon’tmeanit!’
‘Itellyouit’strue.’
Mitchellwaswhiteandshaking.
‘Yousure,Henry?’
‘Deadsure.Atleast—well,Isupposeitmightbeafit.’
‘We’llbeatCroydoninafewminutes.’
‘Ifshe’sjusttakenbad—’
Theyremainedaminuteortwoundecided—thenarrangedtheircourseofaction.Mitchellreturnedtotherearcar.Hewentfromtabletotable,bendinghisheadandmurmuringconfidentially:
‘Excuseme,sir,youdon’thappentobeadoctor—?’
NormanGalesaid,‘I’madentist.Butifthere’sanythingIcando—?’Hehalfrosefromhisseat.
‘I’madoctor,’saidDrBryant.‘What’sthematter?’
‘There’saladyattheendthere—Idon’tlikethelookofher.’
Bryantrosetohisfeetandaccompaniedthesteward.Unnoticed,thelittlemanwiththemoustachesfollowedthem.
DrBryantbentoverthehuddledfigureinseatNo.2,thefigureofastoutishmiddle-agedwomandressedinheavyblack.
Thedoctor’sexaminationwasbrief.
Hesaid:‘She’sdead.’
Mitchellsaid,‘Whatdoyouthinkitwas—kindoffit?’
‘ThatIcan’tpossiblysaywithoutadetailedexamination.Whendidyoulastseeher—alive,Imean?’
Mitchellreflected.
‘ShewasallrightwhenIbroughthercoffeealong.’
‘Whenwasthat?’
‘Well,itmighthavebeenthree-quartersofanhourago—aboutthat.Then,whenIbroughtthebillalong,Ithoughtshewasasleep…’
Bryantsaid,‘She’sbeendeadatleasthalfanhour.’
Theirconsultationwasbeginningtocauseinterest—headswerecranedroundlookingatthem.Neckswerestretchedtolisten.
‘Isupposeitmighthavebeenakindoffit,like?’suggestedMitchellhopefully.
Heclungtothetheoryofafit.
Hiswife’ssisterhadfits.Hefeltthatfitswerehomelythingsthatanymanmightunderstand.
DrBryanthadnointentionofcommittinghimself.Hemerelyshookhisheadwithapuzzledexpression.
Avoicespokeathiselbow,thevoiceofthemuffled-upmanwiththemoustaches.
‘Thereis,’hesaid,‘amarkonherneck.’
Hespokeapologetically,withaduesenseofspeakingtosuperiorknowledge.
‘True,’saidDrBryant.
Thewoman’sheadlolledoversideways.Therewasaminutepuncturemarkonthesideofherthroat.
‘Pardon—’thetwoDupontsjoinedin.Theyhadbeenlisteningforthelastfewminutes.‘Theladyisdead,yousay,andthereisamarkontheneck?’
ItwasJean,theyoungerDupont,whospoke.
‘MayImakeasuggestion?Therewasawaspflyingabout.Ikilledit.’Heexhibitedthecorpseinhiscoffeesaucer.‘Isitnotpossiblethatthepoorladyhasdiedofawaspsting?Ihaveheardsuchthingshappen.’
‘Itispossible,’agreedBryant.‘Ihaveknownofsuchcases.Yes,thatiscertainlyquiteapossibleexplanation,especiallyiftherewereanycardiacweakness—’
‘AnythingI’dbetterdo,sir?’askedthesteward.‘We’llbeatCroydoninaminute.’
‘Quite,quite,’saidDrBryantashemovedawayalittle.‘There’snothingtobedone.The—er—bodymustnotbemoved,steward.’
‘Yes,sir,Iquiteunderstand.’
DrBryantpreparedtoresumehisseatandlookedinsomesurpriseatthesmallmuffled-upforeignerwhowasstandinghisground.
‘Mydearsir,’hesaid,‘thebestthingtodoistogobacktoyourseat.WeshallbeatCroydonalmostimmediately.’
‘That’sright,sir,’saidthesteward.Heraisedhisvoice.‘Pleaseresumeyourseats,everybody.’
‘Pardon,’saidthelittleman.‘Thereissomething—’
‘Something?’
‘Maisoui,somethingthathasbeenoverlooked.’
Withthetipofapointedpatent-leathershoehemadehismeaningclear.ThestewardandDrBryantfollowedtheactionwiththeireyes.Theycaughttheglintofyellowandblackonthefloorhalfconcealedbytheedgeoftheblackskirt.
‘Anotherwasp?’saidthedoctor,surprised.
HerculePoirotwentdownonhisknees.Hetookasmallpairoftweezersfromhispocketandusedthemdelicately.Hestoodupwithhisprize.
‘Yes,’hesaid,‘itisverylikeawasp;butitisnotawasp!’
Heturnedtheobjectaboutthiswayandthatsothatboththedoctorandthestewardcouldseeitclearly,alittleknotofteasedfluffysilk,orangeandblack,attachedtoalong,peculiar-lookingthornwithadiscolouredtip.
‘Goodgracious!Goodgraciousme!’TheexclamationcamefromlittleMrClancy,whohadlefthisseatandwaspokinghisheaddesperatelyoverthesteward’sshoulder.‘Remarkable,reallyveryremarkable,absolutelythemostremarkablethingIhaveevercomeacrossinmylife.Well,uponmysoul,Ishouldneverhavebelievedit.’
‘Couldyoumakeyourselfjustalittleclearer,sir?’askedthesteward.‘Doyourecognizethis?’
‘Recognizeit?CertainlyIrecognizeit.’MrClancyswelledwithpassionateprideandgratification.‘Thisobject,gentlemen,isthenativethornshotfromablowpipebycertaintribes—er—IcannotbeexactlycertainnowifitisSouthAmericantribesorwhetheritistheinhabitantsofBorneowhichIhaveinmind;butthatisundoubtedlyanativedartthathasbeenaimedbyablowpipe,andIstronglysuspectthatonthetip—’
‘IsthefamousarrowpoisonoftheSouthAmericanIndians,’finishedHerculePoirot.Andheadded,‘Maisenfin!Est-cequec’estpossible?’
‘Itiscertainlyveryextraordinary,’saidMrClancy,stillfullofblissfulexcitement.‘AsIsay,mostextraordinary.Iammyselfawriterofdetectivefiction;butactuallytomeet,inreallife—’
Wordsfailedhim.
Theaeroplaneheeledslowlyover,andthosepeoplewhowerestandingupstaggeredalittle.TheplanewascirclingroundinitsdescenttoCroydonaerodrome
Chapter3
Croydon
Thestewardandthedoctorwerenolongerinchargeofthesituation.Theirplacewasusurpedbytheratherabsurd-lookinglittlemaninthemufflers.Hespokewithanauthorityandacertaintyofbeingobeyedthatnoonethoughtofquestioning.
HewhisperedtoMitchell,andthelatternodded,and,pushinghiswaythroughthepassengers,hetookuphisstandinthedoorwayleadingpastthetoiletstothefrontcar.
Theplanewasrunningalongthegroundnow.WhenitfinallycametoastopMitchellraisedhisvoice:
‘Imustaskyou,ladiesandgentlemen,tokeepyourseatsandremainhereuntilsomebodyinauthoritytakescharge.Ihopeyouwillnotbedetainedlong.’
Thereasonablenessofthisorderwasappreciatedbymostoftheoccupantsofthecar,butonepersonprotestedshrilly.
‘Nonsense,’criedLadyHorburyangrily.‘Don’tyouknowwhoIam?Iinsistonbeingallowedtoleaveatonce.’
‘Verysorry,mylady.Can’tmakeexceptions.’
‘Butit’sabsurd,absolutelyabsurd,’Cicelytappedherfootangrily.‘Ishallreportyoutothecompany.It’soutrageousthatweshouldbeshutupherewithadeadbody.’
‘Really,mydear,’VenetiaKerrspokewithherwell-breddrawl,‘toodevastating,butIfancywe’llhavetoputupwithit.’Sheherselfsatdownanddrewoutacigarette-case.‘CanIsmokenow,steward?’
TheharassedMitchellsaid,‘Idon’tsupposeitmattersnow,Miss.’
Heglancedoverhisshoulder.Davishaddisem-barkedthepassengersfromthefrontcarbytheemergencydoorandhadnowgoneinsearchoforders.
Thewaitwasnotalongone,butitseemedtothepassengersasthoughhalfanhouratleasthadpassedbeforeanerectsoldierlyfigureinplainclothes,accompaniedbyauniformedpoliceman,camehurriedlyacrosstheaerodromeandclimbedintotheplanebythedoorthatMitchellheldopen.
‘Now,then,what’sallthis?’demandedthenewcomerinbriskofficialtones
HelistenedtoMitchellandthentoDrBryant,andheflungaquickglanceoverthecrumpledfigureofthedeadwoman
Hegaveanordertotheconstableandthenaddressedthepassengers.
‘Willyoupleasefollowme,ladiesandgentlemen?’
Heescortedthemoutoftheplaneandacrosstheaerodrome,buthedidnotentertheusualcustomsdepartment;instead,hebroughtthemtoasmallprivateroom.
‘Ihopenottokeepyouwaitinganylongerthanisunavoidable,ladiesandgentlemen.’
‘Lookhere,Inspector,’saidMrJamesRyder.‘IhaveanimportantbusinessengagementinLondon.’
‘Sorry,sir.’
‘IamLadyHorbury.IconsideritabsolutelyoutrageousthatIshouldbedetainedinthismatter!’
‘I’msincerelysorry,LadyHorbury;but,yousee,thisisaveryseriousmatter.Itlookslikeacaseofmurder.’
‘ThearrowpoisonoftheSouthAmericanIndians,’murmuredMrClancydeliriously,ahappysmileonhisface.
Theinspectorlookedathimsuspiciously.
TheFrencharchaeologistspokeexcitedlyinFrench,andtheinspectorrepliedtohimslowlyandcarefullyinthesamelanguage.
VenetiaKerrsaid,‘Allthisisamostcrashingbore,butIsupposeyouhaveyourdutytodo,Inspector,’towhichthatworthyreplied,‘Thankyou,Madam,’inaccentsofsomegratitude.
Hewenton:
‘Ifyouladiesandgentlemenwillremainhere,IwantafewwordswithDoctor—er—Doctor—?’
‘Bryant,mynameis.’
‘Thankyou.Justcomethiswaywithme,Doctor.’
‘MayIassistatyourinterview?’
Itwasthelittlemanwiththemoustacheswhospoke.
Theinspectorturnedonhim,asharpretortonhislips.Thenhisfacechangedsuddenly.
‘Sorry,M.Poirot,’hesaid.‘You’resomuffledup,Ididn’trecognizeyou.Comealong,byallmeans.’
HeheldthedooropenandBryantandPoirotpassedthrough,followedbythesuspiciousglanceoftherestofthecompany.
‘Andwhyshouldhebeallowedoutandwemadetostayhere?’criedCicelyHorbury.
VenetiaKerrsatdownresignedlyonabench.
‘ProbablyoneoftheFrenchpolice,’shesaid,‘oracustomsspy.’
Shelitacigarette.
NormanGalesaidratherdiffidentlytoJane:
‘IthinkIsawyouat—er—LePinet.’
‘IwasatLePinet.’
NormanGalesaid,‘It’sanawfullyattractiveplace.Ilikethepinetrees.’
Janesaid,‘Yes,theysmellsonice.’
Andthentheybothpausedforaminuteortwo,uncertainwhattosaynext.
FinallyGalesaid,‘I—er—recognizedyouatonceintheplane.’
Janeexpressedgreatsurprise.‘Didyou?’
Galesaid,‘Doyouthinkthatwomanwasreallymurdered?’
‘Isupposeso,’saidJane.‘It’sratherthrillinginaway,butit’srathernastytoo,’andsheshudderedalittle,andNormanGalemovedjustalittlenearerinaprotectivemanner.
TheDupontsweretalkingFrenchtoeachother.MrRyderwasmakingcalculationsinalittlenotebookandlookingathiswatchfromtimetotime.CicelyHorburysatwithherfoottappingimpatientlyonthefloor.Shelitacigarettewithashakinghand.
Againstthedoorontheinsideleanedaverylargeblue-cladimpassive-lookingpoliceman.
InaroomnearbyInspectorJappwastalkingtoDrBryantandHerculePoirot.
‘You’vegotaknackofturningupinthemostunexpectedplaces,M.Poirot.’
‘Isn’tCroydonaerodromealittleoutofyourbeat,myfriend?’askedPoirot.
‘Ah,I’mafterratherabigbuginthesmugglingline.Abitofluckmybeingonthespot.ThisisthemostamazingbusinessI’vecomeacrossforyears.Now,then,let’sgetdowntoit.Firstofall,Doctor,perhapsyou’llgivemeyourfullnameandaddress.’
‘RogerJamesBryant.Iamaspecialistondiseasesoftheearandthroat.Myaddressis329HarleyStreet.’
Astolidconstablesittingatatabletookdowntheseparticulars.
‘Ourownsurgeonwill,ofcourse,examinethebody,’saidJapp,‘butweshallwantyouattheinquest,Doctor.’
‘Quiteso,quiteso.’
‘Canyougiveusanyideaofthetimeofdeath?’
‘ThewomanmusthavebeendeadatleasthalfanhourwhenIexaminedher;thatwasafewminutesbeforewearrivedatCroydon.Ican’tgonearerthanthat,butIunderstandfromthestewardthathehadspokentoheraboutanhourbefore.’
‘Well,thatnarrowsitdownforallpracticalpurposes.Isupposeit’snogoodaskingyouifyouobservedanythingofasuspiciousnature?’
Thedoctorshookhishead.
‘Andme,Iwasasleep,’saidPoirotwithdeepchagrin.‘Isufferalmostasbadlyintheairasonthesea.AlwaysIwrapmyselfupwellandtrytosleep.’
‘Anyideaastothecauseofdeath,Doctor?’
‘Ishouldnotliketosayanythingdefiniteatthisstage.Thisisacaseforpost-mortemexaminationandanalysis.’
Jappnoddedcomprehendingly.
‘Well,Doctor,’hesaid,‘Idon’tthinkweneeddetainyounow.I’mafraidyou’ll—er—havetogothroughcertainformalities;allthepassengerswill.Wecan’tmakeexceptions.’
DrBryantsmiled.
‘IshouldpreferyoutomakesurethatIhaveno—er—blowpipesorotherlethalweaponsconcealeduponmyperson,’hesaidgravely.
‘Rogersherewillseetothat.’Jappnoddedtohissubordinate.‘Bytheway,Doctor,haveyouanyideawhatwouldbelikelytobeonthis—?’
Heindicatedthediscolouredthornwhichwaslyinginasmallboxonthetableinfrontofhim.
DrBryantshookhishead.
‘Difficulttosaywithoutananalysis.Curareistheusualpoisonemployedbythenatives,Ibelieve.’
‘Wouldthatdothetrick?’
‘Itisaveryswiftandrapidpoison.’
‘Butnotveryeasytoobtain,eh?’
‘Notatalleasyforalayman.’
‘Thenwe’llhavetosearchyouextracarefully,’saidJapp,whowasalwaysfondofhisjoke.‘Rogers!’
Thedoctorandtheconstablelefttheroomtogether.
JapptiltedbackhischairandlookedatPoirot.
‘Rumbusiness,this,’hesaid.‘Bittoosensationaltobetrue.Imean,blowpipesandpoisoneddartsinanaeroplane—well,itinsultsone’sintelligence.’
‘That,myfriend,isaveryprofoundremark,’saidPoirot.
‘Acoupleofmymenaresearchingtheplane,’saidJapp.‘We’vegotafingerprintmanandaphotographercomingalong.Ithinkwe’dbetterseethestewardsnext.’
Hestrodetothedoorandgaveanorder.Thetwostewardswereusheredin.Theyoungerstewardhadrecoveredhisbalance.Helookedmoreexcitedthananythingelse.Theotherstewardstilllookedwhiteandfrightened.
‘That’sallright,mylads,’saidJapp.‘Sitdown.Gotthepassportsthere?Good.’
Hesortedthroughthemquickly.
‘Ah,hereweare.MarieMorisot—Frenchpassport.Knowanythingabouther?’
‘I’veseenherbefore.ShecrossedtoandfrofromEnglandfairlyoften,’saidMitchell.
‘Ah!inbusinessofsomekind.Youdon’tknowwhatherbusinesswas?’
Mitchellshookhishead.Theyoungerstewardsaid,‘Irememberhertoo.Isawherontheearlyservice—theeighto’clockfromParis.’
‘Whichofyouwasthelasttoseeheralive?’
‘Him.’Theyoungerstewardindicatedhiscompanion.
‘That’sright,’saidMitchell.‘That’swhenItookherhercoffee.’
‘Howwasshelookingthen?’
‘Can’tsayInoticed.Ijusthandedherthesugarandofferedhermilk,whichsherefused.’
‘Whattimewasthat?’
‘Well,Icouldn’tsayexactly.WewereovertheChannelatthetime.Mighthavebeensomewhereabouttwoo’clock.’
‘Thereabouts,’saidAlbertDavis,theothersteward.
‘Whendidyouseehernext?’
‘WhenItookthebillsround.’
‘Whattimewasthat?’
‘Aboutaquarterofanhourlater.Ithoughtshewasasleep—Crikey,shemusthavebeendeadthen!’
Thesteward’svoicesoundedawed.
‘Youdidn’tseeanysignsofthis—’Jappindicatedthelittlewasp-likedart.
‘No,sir,Ididn’t.’
‘Whataboutyou,Davis?’
‘ThelasttimeIsawherwaswhenIwashandingthebiscuitstogowiththecheese.Shewasallrightthen.’
‘Whatisyoursystemofservingmeals?’askedPoirot.‘Doeachofyouserveseparatecars?’
‘No,sir,weworkittogether.Thesoup,thenthemeatandvegetablesandsalad,thenthesweet,andsoon.Weusuallyservetherearcarfirst,andthengooutwithafreshlotofdishestothefrontcar.’
Poirotnodded.
‘DidthisMorisotwomanspeaktoanyoneontheplane,orshowanysignsofrecognition?’askedJapp.
‘NotthatIsaw,sir.’
‘You,Davis?’
‘No,sir.’
‘Didsheleaveherseatatallduringthejourney?’
‘Idon’tthinkso,sir.’
‘There’snothingyoucanthinkofthatthrowsanylightonthisbusiness—eitherofyou?’
Boththementhought,thenshooktheirheads.
‘Well,thatwillbeallfornow,then.I’llseeyouagainlater.’
HenryMitchellsaidsoberly:
‘It’sanastythingtohappen,sir.Idon’tlikeit,mehavingbeenincharge,sotospeak.’
‘Well,Ican’tseethatyou’retoblameinanyway,’saidJapp.‘Still,Iagree,it’sanastythingtohappen.’
Hemadeagestureofdismissal.Poirotleanedforward.
‘Permitmeonelittlequestion.’
‘Goahead,M.Poirot.’
‘Dideitherofyoutwonoticeawaspflyingabouttheplane?’
Bothmenshooktheirheads.
‘TherewasnowaspthatIknowof,’saidMitchell.
‘Therewasawasp,’saidPoirot.‘Wehaveitsdeadbodyontheplateofoneofthepassengers.’
‘Well,Ididn’tseeit,sir,’saidMitchell.
‘NomoredidI,’saidDavis.
‘Nomatter.’
Thetwostewardslefttheroom.Jappwasrunninghiseyerapidlyoverthepassports.
‘Gotacountessonboard,’hesaid.‘She’stheonewho’sthrowingherweightabout,Isuppose.BetterseeherfirstbeforeshegoesrightoffthehandleandgetsaquestionaskedintheHouseaboutthebrutalmethodsofthepolice.’
‘Youwill,Isuppose,searchverycarefullyallthebaggage—thehandbaggage—ofthepassengersintherearcaroftheplane?’
Jappwinkedcheerfully.
‘Why,whatdoyouthink,M.Poirot?We’vegottofindthatblowpipe—ifthereisablowpipeandwe’renotalldreaming!Seemslikeakindofnightmaretome.Isupposethatlittlewriterchaphasn’tgoneoffhisonionanddecidedtodooneofhiscrimesinthefleshinsteadofonpaper?Thispoisoneddartbusinesssoundslikehim.’
Poirotshookhisheaddoubtfully.
‘Yes,’continuedJapp,‘everybody’sgottobesearched,whethertheykickuproughornot;andeverybitoftrucktheyhadwiththemhasgottobesearchedtoo—andthat’sflat.’
‘Averyexactlistmightbemade,perhaps,’suggestedPoirot,‘alistofeverythinginthesepeople’spossession.’
Japplookedathimcuriously.
‘Thatcanbedoneifyousayso,M.Poirot.Idon’tquiteseewhatyou’redrivingat,though.Weknowwhatwe’relookingfor.’
‘Youmay,perhaps,monami,butIamnotsosure.Ilookforsomething,butIknownotwhatitis.’
‘Atitagain,M.Poirot!Youdolikemakingthingsdifficult,don’tyou?Nowforherladyshipbeforeshe’squitereadytoscratchmyeyesout.’
LadyHorbury,however,wasnoticeablycalmerinhermanner.SheacceptedachairandansweredJapp’squestionswithouttheleasthesitation.ShedescribedherselfasthewifeoftheEarlofHorbury,gaveheraddressasHorburyChase,Sussex,and315GrosvenorSquare,London.ShewasreturningtoLondonfromLePinetandParis.Thedeceasedwomanwasquiteunknowntoher.Shehadnoticednothingsuspiciousduringtheflightover.Inanycase,shewasfacingtheotherway—towardsthefrontoftheplane—sohadhadnoopportunityofseeinganythingthatwasgoingonbehindher.Shehadnotleftherseatduringthejourney.Asfarassherememberednoonehadenteredtherearcarfromthefrontonewiththeexceptionofthestewards.Shecouldnotrememberexactly,butshethoughtthattwoofthemenpassengershadlefttherearcartogotothetoilets,butshewasnotsureofthis.Shehadnotobservedanyonehandlinganythingthatcouldbelikenedtoablowpipe.No—inanswertoPoirot—shehadnotnoticedawaspinthecar.
LadyHorburywasdismissed.ShewassucceededbytheHonourableVenetiaKerr.
MissKerr’sevidencewasmuchthesameasthatofherfriend.ShegavehernameasVenetiaAnneKerr,andheraddressasLittlePaddocks,Horbury,Sussex.SheherselfwasreturningfromtheSouthofFrance.Asfarasshewasawareshehadneverseenthedeceasedbefore.Shehadnoticednothingsuspiciousduringthejourney.Yes,shehadseensomeofthepassengersfartherdownthecarstrikingatawasp.Oneofthem,shethought,hadkilledit.Thatwasafterluncheonhadbeenserved.
ExitMissKerr.
‘Youseemverymuchinterestedinthatwasp,M.Poirot.’
‘Thewaspisnotsomuchinterestingassuggestive,eh?’
‘Ifyouaskme,’saidJapp,changingthesubject,‘thosetwoFrenchmenaretheonesinthis!TheywerejustacrossthegangwayfromtheMorisotwoman.They’reaseedy-lookingcouple,andthatbatteredoldsuitcaseoftheirsisfairlyplasteredwithoutlandishforeignlabels.Shouldn’tbesurprisedifthey’dbeentoBorneoorSouthAmerica,orwhereveritis.Ofcourse,wecan’tgetalineonthemotive,butIdaresaywecangetthatfromParis.We’llhavetogettheS?retétocollaborateoverthis.It’stheirjobmorethanours.But,ifyouaskme,thosetwotoughsareourmeat.’
Poirot’seyestwinkledalittle.
‘Whatyousayispossible,certainly,butasregardssomeofyourpointsyouareinerror,myfriend.Thosetwomenarenottoughs—orcut-throats,asyousuggest.Theyareonthecontrarytwoverydistinguishedandlearnedarchaeologists.’
‘Goon—you’repullingmyleg!’
‘Notatall.Iknowthembysightperfectly.TheyareM.ArmandDupontandhisson,M.JeanDupont.TheyhavereturnednotlongagofromconductingsomeveryinterestingexcavationsinPersiaatasitenotfarfromSusa.’
‘Goon!’
Jappmadeagrabatapassport.
‘You’reright,M.Poirot,’hesaid,‘butyoumustadmittheydon’tlookuptomuch,dothey?’
‘Theworld’sfamousmenseldomdo!Imyself—moi,quivousparle—Ihavebeforenowbeentakenforahairdresser!’
‘Youdon’tsayso,’saidJappwithagrin.‘Well,let’shavealookatourdistinguishedarchaeologists.’
M.Dupontpèredeclaredthatthedeceasedwasquiteunknowntohim.Hehadnoticednothingofwhathadhappenedonthejourneyoverashehadbeendiscussingaveryinterestingpointwithhisson.Hehadnotlefthisseatatall.Yes,hehadnoticedawasptowardstheendoflunch.Hissonhadkilledit.
M.JeanDupontconfirmedthisevidence.Hehadnoticednothingofwhatwentonroundabouthim.Thewasphadannoyedhimandhehadkilledit.Whathadbeenthesubjectofthediscussion?TheprehistoricpotteryoftheNearEast.
MrClancy,whocamenext,cameinforratherabadtime.MrClancy,sofeltInspectorJapp,knewaltogethertoomuchaboutblowpipesandpoisoneddarts.
‘Haveyoueverownedablowpipeyourself?’
‘Well—I—er—well,yes,asamatteroffactIhave.’
‘Indeed!’InspectorJapppouncedonthestatement.
LittleMrClancyfairlysqueakedwithagitation.
‘Youmustnot—er—misunderstand;mymotivesarequiteinnocent.Icanexplain…’
‘Yes,sir,perhapsyouwillexplain.’
‘Well,yousee,Iwaswritingabookinwhichthemurderwascommittedthatway—’
‘Indeed—’
Againthatthreateningintonation.MrClancyhurriedon:
‘Itwasallaquestionoffingerprints—ifyouunderstandme.ItwasnecessarytohaveanillustrationillustratingthepointImeant—Imean—thefingerprints—thepositionofthem—thepositionofthemontheblowpipe,ifyouunderstandme,andhavingnoticedsuchathing—intheCharingCrossRoaditwas—atleasttwoyearsagonow—andsoIboughttheblowpipe—andanartistfriendofmineverykindlydrewitforme—withthefingerprints—toillustratemypoint.Icanreferyoutothebook—TheClueoftheScarletPetal—andmyfriendtoo.’
‘Didyoukeeptheblowpipe?’
‘Why,yes—why,yes,Ithinkso—Imean,yes,Idid.’
‘Andwhereisitnow?’
‘Well,Isuppose—well,itmustbesomewhereabout.’
‘Whatexactlydoyoumeanbysomewhereabout,MrClancy?’
‘Imean—well—somewhere—Ican’tsaywhere.I—Iamnotaverytidyman.’
‘Itisn’twithyounow,forinstance?’
‘Certainlynot.Why,Ihaven’tseethethingfornearlysixmonths.’
InspectorJappbentaglanceofcoldsuspiciononhimandcontinuedhisquestions.
‘Didyouleaveyourseatatallintheplane?’
‘No,certainlynot—atleast—well,yes,Idid.’
‘Oh,youdid.Wheredidyougo?’
‘IwenttogetacontinentalBradshawoutofmyraincoatpocket.Theraincoatwaspiledwithsomerugsandsuitcasesbytheentranceattheend.’
‘Soyoupassedclosebythedeceased’sseat?’
‘No—atleast—well,yes,Imusthavedone.Butthiswaslongbeforeanythingcouldhavehappened.I’donlyjustdrunkmysoup.’
Furtherquestionsdrewnegativeanswers.MrClancyhadnoticednothingsuspicious.Hehadbeenabsorbedintheperfectioningofhiscross-Europealibi.
‘Alibi,eh?’saidtheinspectordarkly.
Poirotintervenedwithaquestionaboutwasps.
Yes,MrClancyhadnoticedawasp.Ithadattackedhim.Hewasafraidofwasps.Whenwasthis?Justafterthestewardhadbroughthimhiscoffee.Hestruckatitanditwentaway.
MrClancy’snameandaddressweretakenandhewasallowedtodepart,whichhedidwithreliefonhisface.
‘Looksabitfishytome,’saidJapp.‘Heactuallyhadablowpipe;andlookathismanner.Alltopieces.’
‘Thatistheseverityofyourofficialdemeanour,mygoodJapp.’
‘There’snothingforanyonetobeafraidofifthey’reonlytellingthetruth,’saidtheScotlandYardmanausterely.
Poirotlookedathimpityingly.
‘Inverity,Ibelievethatyouyourselfhonestlybelievethat.’
‘OfcourseIdo.It’strue.Now,then,let’shaveNormanGale.’
NormanGalegavehisaddressas14Shepherd’sAvenue,MuswellHill.Byprofessionhewasadentist.HewasreturningfromaholidayspentatLePinetontheFrenchcoast.HehadspentadayinParislookingatvariousnewtypesofdentalinstruments.
Hehadneverseenthedeceased,andhadnoticednothingsuspiciousduringthejourney.Inanycase,hehadbeenfacingtheotherway—towardsthefrontcar.Hehadlefthisseatonceduringthejourneytogotothetoilet.Hehadreturnedstraighttohisseatandhadneverbeenneartherearendofthecar.Hehadnotnoticedanywasp.
AfterhimcameJamesRyder,somewhatonedgeandbrusqueinmanner.HewasreturningfromabusinessvisittoParis.Hedidnotknowthedeceased.Yes,hehadoccupiedtheseatimmediatelyinfrontofhers,buthecouldnothaveseenherwithoutrisingandlookingoverthebackofhisseat.Hehadheardnothing—nocryorexclamation.Noonehadcomedownthecarexceptthestewards.Yes,thetwoFrenchmenhadoccupiedtheseatsacrossthegangwayfromhis.Theyhadtalkedpracticallythewholejourney.Theyoungerofthetwohadkilledawaspattheconclusionofthemeal.No,hehadn’tnoticedthewasppreviously.Hedidn’tknowwhatablowpipewaslike,ashe’dneverseenone,sohecouldn’tsayifhe’dseenoneonthejourneyornot—
Justatthispointtherewasataponthedoor.Apoliceconstableentered,subduedtriumphinhisbearing.
‘Thesergeant’sjustfoundthis,sir,’hesaid.‘Thoughtyou’dliketohaveitatonce.’
Helaidhisprizeonthetable,unwrappingitwithcarefromthehandkerchiefinwhichitwasfolded.
‘Nofingerprints,sir,soasthesergeantcansee,buthetoldmetobecareful.’
Theobjectthusdisplayedwasanundoubtedblowpipeofnativemanufacture.
Jappdrewhisbreathinsharply.
‘GoodLord!Thenitistrue?Uponmysoul,Ididn’tbelieveit!’
MrRyderleantforwardinterestedly.
‘Sothat’swhattheSouthAmericansuse,isit?Readaboutsuchthings,butneverseenone.Well,Icanansweryourquestionnow.Ididn’tseeanyonehandlinganythingofthistype.’
‘Wherewasitfound?’askedJappsharply.
‘Pusheddownoutofsightbehindoneoftheseats,sir.’
‘Whichseat?’
‘No.9.’
‘Veryentertaining,’saidPoirot.
Jappturnedtohim.
‘What’sentertainingaboutit?’
‘OnlythatNo.9wasmyseat.’
‘Well,thatlooksabitoddforyou,Imustsay,’saidMrRyder.
Jappfrowned.
‘Thankyou,MrRyder,thatwilldo.’
WhenRyderhadgoneheturnedtoPoirotwithagrin.
‘Thisyourwork,oldbird?’
‘Monami,’saidPoirotwithdignity,‘whenIcommitamurderitwillnotbewiththearrowpoisonoftheSouthAmericanIndians.’
‘Itisabitlow,’agreedJapp.‘Butitseemstohaveworked.’
‘Thatiswhatgivesonesofuriouslytothink.’
‘Whoeveritwasmusthavetakenthemoststupendouschances.Yes,byJove,theymust.Lord,thefellowmusthavebeenanabsolutelunatic.Whohavewegotleft?Onlyonegirl.Let’shaveherinandgetitover.JaneGrey—soundslikeahistorybook.’
‘Sheisaprettygirl,’saidPoirot.
‘Isshe,youolddog?Soyouweren’tasleepallthetime,eh?’
‘Shewaspretty—andnervous,’saidPoirot.
‘Nervous,eh?’saidJappalertly.
‘Oh,mydearfriend,whenagirlisnervousitusuallymeansayoungman—notcrime.’
‘Oh,well,Isupposeyou’reright.Heresheis.’
Janeansweredthequestionsputtoherclearlyenough.HernamewasJaneGreyandshewasemployedatMessrs.Antoine’shairdressingestablishmentinBrutonStreet.Herhomeaddresswas10HarrogateStreet,NW5.ShewasreturningtoEnglandfromLePinet.
‘LePinet—h’m!’
FurtherquestionsdrewthestoryoftheSweepticket.
‘Oughttobemadeillegal,thoseIrishSweeps,’growledJapp.
‘Ithinkthey’remarvellous,’saidJane.‘Haven’tyoueverputhalfacrownonahorse?’
Jappblushedandlookedconfused.
Thequestionswereresumed.Showntheblowpipe,Janedeniedhavingseenitatanytime.Shedidnotknowthedeceased,buthadnoticedheratLeBourget.
‘Whatmadeyounoticeherparticularly?’
‘Becauseshewassofrightfullyugly,’saidJanetruthfully.
Nothingelseofanyvaluewaselicitedfromher,andshewasallowedtogo.
Jappfellbackintocontemplationoftheblowpipe.
‘Itbeatsme,’hesaid.‘Thecrudestdetectivestorydodgecomingouttrumps!Whathavewegottolookfornow?Amanwho’stravelledinthepartoftheworldthisthingcomesfrom?Andwhereexactlydoesitcomefrom?Havetogetanexpertontothat.ItmaybeMalayanorSouthAmericanorAfrican.’
‘Originally,yes,’saidPoirot.‘Butifyouobserveclosely,myfriend,youwillnoticeamicroscopicpieceofpaperadheringtothepipe.Itlookstomeverymuchliketheremainsofatorn-offpriceticket.Ifancythatthisparticularspecimenhasjourneyedfromthewildsviasomecuriodealer’sshop.Thatwillpossiblymakeoursearchmoreeasy.Justonelittlequestion.’
‘Askaway.’
‘Youwillstillhavethatlistmade—thelistofthepassengers’belongings?’
‘Well,itisn’tquitesovitalnow,butitmightaswellbedone.You’reverysetonthat?’
‘Maisoui.Iampuzzled,verypuzzled.IfIcouldfindsomethingtohelpme—’
Jappwasnotlistening.Hewasexaminingthetornpriceticket.
‘Clancyletoutthatheboughtablowpipe.Thesedetective-storywriters…alwaysmakingthepoliceouttobefools…andgettingtheirprocedureallwrong.Why,ifIweretosaythethingstomysuperthattheirinspectorssaytosuperintendentsIshouldbethrownoutoftheForcetomorrowonmyear.Setofignorantscribblers!Thisisjustthesortofdamnfoolmurderthatascribblerofrubbishwouldthinkhecouldgetawaywith.’
Chapter4
TheInquest
TheinquestonMarieMorisotwasheldfourdayslater.Thesensationalmannerofherdeathhadarousedgreatpublicinterest,andthecoroner’scourtwascrowded.
ThefirstwitnesscalledwasatallelderlyFrenchmanwithagreybeard—Ma?treAlexandreThibault.HespokeEnglishslowlyandpreciselywithaslightaccent,butquiteidiomatically.
Afterthepreliminaryquestionsthecoronerasked,‘Youhaveviewedthebodyofthedeceased.Doyourecognizeit?’
‘Ido.Itisthatofmyclient,MarieAngéliqueMorisot.’
‘Thatisthenameonthedeceased’spassport.Wassheknowntothepublicbyanothername?’
‘Yes,thatofMadameGiselle.’
Astirofexcitementwentaround.Reporterssatwithpencilspoised.Thecoronersaid,‘WillyoutellusexactlywhothisMadameMorisot—orMadameGiselle—was?’
‘MadameGiselle—togiveherherprofessionalname,thenameunderwhichshedidbusiness—wasoneofthebest-knownmoneylendersinParis.’
‘Shecarriedonherbusiness—where?’
‘AttheRueJoliette,No.3.Thatwasalsoherprivateresidence.’
‘IunderstandthatshejourneyedtoEnglandfairlyfrequently.Didherbusinessextendtothiscountry?’
‘Yes.ManyofherclientswereEnglishpeople.ShewasverywellknownamongstacertainsectionofEnglishsociety.’
‘Howwouldyoudescribethatsectionofsociety?’
‘Herclientèlewasmostlyamongtheupperandprofessionalclasses,incaseswhereitwasimportantthattheutmostdiscretionshouldbeobserved.’
‘Shehadthereputationofbeingdiscreet?’
‘Extremelydiscreet.’
‘MayIaskifyouhaveanintimateknowledgeof—er—hervariousbusinesstransactions?’
‘No.Idealtwithherlegalbusiness,butMadameGisellewasafirst-classwomanofbusiness,thoroughlycapableofattendingtoherownaffairsinthemostcompetentmanner.Shekeptthecontrolofherbusinessentirelyinherownhands.Shewas,ifImaysayso,awomanofveryoriginalcharacter,andawell-knownpublicfigure.’
‘Tothebestofyourknowledge,wasshearichwomanatthetimeofherdeath?’
‘Shewasanextremelywealthywoman.’
‘Hadshe,toyourknowledge,anyenemies?’
‘Nottomyknowledge.’
Ma?treThibaultthensteppeddownandHenryMitchellwascalled.
Thecoronersaid,‘YournameisHenryCharlesMitchellandyouresideat11ShoeblackLane,Wandsworth?’
‘Yes,sir.’
‘YouareintheemploymentofUniversalAirlines,Ltd?’
‘Yes,sir.’
‘YouaretheseniorstewardontheairlinerPrometheus?’
‘Yes,sir.’
‘OnTuesdaylast,theeighteenth,youwereondutyonthePrometheusonthetwelveo’clockservicefromParistoCroydon.Thedeceasedtravelledbythatservice.Hadyoueverseenthedeceasedbefore?’
‘Yes,sir.Iwasonthe8.45amservicesixmonthsagoandInoticedhertravellingbythatonceortwice.’
‘Didyouknowhername?’
‘Well,itmusthavebeenonmylist,sir,butIdidn’tnoticeitspecial,sotospeak.’
‘HaveyoueverheardthenameofMadameGiselle?’
‘No,sir.’
‘PleasedescribetheoccurrencesofTuesdaylastinyourownway.’
‘I’dservedtheluncheons,sir,andwascomingroundwiththebills.Thedeceasedwas,asIthought,asleep.Idecidednottowakeheruntilaboutfiveminutesbeforewegotin.WhenItriedtodosoIdiscoveredthatshewasdeadorseriouslyill.Idiscoveredthattherewasadoctoronboard.Hesaid—’
‘WeshallhaveDrBryant’sevidencepresently.Willyoutakealookatthis?’
TheblowpipewashandedtoMitchell,whotookitgingerly.
‘Haveyoueverseenthatbefore?’
‘No,sir.’
‘Youarecertainthatyoudidnotseeitinthehandsofanyofthepassengers?’
‘Yes,sir.’
‘AlbertDavis.’
Theyoungerstewardtookthestand.
‘YouareAlbertDavisof23BarcomeStreet,Croydon.YouareemployedbyUniversalAirlines,Ltd?’
‘Yes,sir.’
‘YouwereondutyonthePrometheusassecondstewardonTuesdaylast?’
‘Yes,sir.’
‘Whatwasthefirstthatyouknewofthetragedy?’
‘MrMitchell,sir,toldmethathewasafraidsomethinghadhappenedtooneofthepassengers.’
‘Haveyoueverseenthisbefore?’
TheblowpipewashandedtoDavis.
‘No,sir.’
‘Youdidnotobserveitinthehandsofanyofthepassengers?’
‘No,sir.’
‘Didanythingatallhappenonthejourneythatyouthinkmightthrowlightonthisaffair?’
‘No,sir.’
‘Verygood.Youmaystanddown.’
‘DrRogerBryant.’
DrBryantgavehisnameandaddressanddescribedhimselfasaspecialistinearandthroatdiseases.
‘Willyoutellusinyourownwords,DrBryant,exactlywhathappenedonTuesdaylast,theeighteenth?’
‘JustbeforegettingintoCroydonIwasapproachedbythechiefsteward.HeaskedmeifIwasadoctor.Onmyreplyingintheaffirmative,hetoldmethatoneofthepassengershadbeentakenill.Iroseandwentwithhim.Thewomaninquestionwaslyingslumpeddowninherseat.Shehadbeendeadsometime.’
‘Whatlengthoftimeinyouropinion,DrBryant?’
‘Ishouldsayatleasthalfanhour.Betweenhalfanhourandanhourwouldbemyestimate.’
‘Didyouformanytheoryastothecauseofdeath?’
‘No.Itwouldhavebeenimpossibletosaywithoutadetailedexamination.’
‘Butyounoticedasmallpunctureonthesideoftheneck?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thankyou…DrJamesWhistler.’
DrWhistlerwasathin,scraggylittleman.
‘Youarethepolicesurgeonforthisdistrict?’
‘Iam.’
‘Willyougiveyourevidenceinyourownwords?’
‘Shortlyafterthreeo’clockonTuesdaylast,theeighteenth,IreceivedasummonstoCroydonaerodrome.ThereIwasshownthebodyofamiddle-agedwomaninoneoftheseatsoftheairlinerPrometheus.Shewasdead,anddeathhadoccurred,Ishouldsay,aboutanhourpreviously.Inoticedacircularpunctureonthesideoftheneck—directlyonthejugularvein.Thismarkwasquiteconsistentwithhavingbeencausedbythestingofawasporbytheinsertionofathornwhichwasshowntome.Thebodywasremovedtothemortuary,whereIwasabletomakeadetailedexamination.’
‘Whatconclusionsdidyoucometo?’
‘Icametotheconclusionthatdeathwascausedbytheintroductionofapowerfultoxinintothebloodstream.Deathwasduetoacuteparalysisoftheheart,andmusthavebeenpracticallyinstantaneous.’
‘Canyoutelluswhatthattoxinwas?’
‘ItwasatoxinIhadnevercomeacrossbefore.’
Thereporters,listeningattentively,wrotedown‘Unknownpoison.’
‘Thankyou…MrHenryWinterspoon.’
MrWinterspoonwasalarge,dreamy-lookingmanwithabenignantexpression.Helookedkindlybutstupid.ItcameassomethingofashocktolearnthathewaschiefGovernmentanalystandanauthorityonrarepoisons.
ThecoronerheldupthefatalthornandaskedMrWinterspoonifherecognizedit.
‘Ido.Itwassenttomeforanalysis.’
‘Willyoutellustheresultofthatanalysis?’
‘Certainly.Ishouldsaythatoriginallythedarthadbeendippedinapreparationofnativecurare—anarrowpoisonusedbycertaintribes.’
Thereporterswrotewithgusto.
‘Youconsider,then,thatdeathmayhavebeenduetocurare.’
‘Oh,no,’saidMrWinterspoon.‘Therewasonlythefaintesttraceoftheoriginalpreparation.Accordingtomyanalysis,thedarthadrecentlybeendippedinthevenomofDispholidustypus,betterknownastheboomslangortreesnake.’
‘Aboomslang?Whatisaboomslang?’
‘ItisaSouthAfricansnake—oneofthemostdeadlyandpoisonousinexistence.Itseffectonahumanbeingisnotknown,butsomeideaoftheintensevirulenceofthevenomcanberealizedwhenItellyouthatoninjectingthevenomintoahyena,thehyenadiedbeforetheneedlecouldbewithdrawn.Ajackaldiedasthoughshotbyagun.Thepoisoncausesacutehaemorrhageundertheskinandalsoactsontheheart,paralysingitsaction.’
Thereporterswrote:‘ExtraordinaryStory.SnakePoisoninAirDrama.DeadlierthantheCobra.’
‘Haveyoueverknownthevenomtobeusedinacaseofdeliberatepoisoning?’
‘Never.Itismostinteresting.’
Thankyou,MrWinterspoon.’
Detective-SergeantWilsondeposedtothefindingoftheblowpipebehindthecushionofoneoftheseats.Therewerenofingerprintsonit.Experimentshadbeenmadewiththedartandtheblowpipe.Whatyoumightcalltherangeofitwasfairlyaccurateuptoabouttenyards.
‘M.HerculePoirot.’
Therewasalittlestirofinterest,butM.Poirot’sevidencewasveryrestrained.Hehadnoticednothingoutoftheway.Yes,itwashewhohadfoundthetinydartonthefloorofthecar.Itwasinsuchapositionasitwouldnaturallyhaveoccupiedifithadfallenfromtheneckofthedeadwoman.
‘TheCountessofHorbury.’
Thereporterswrote:‘Peer’swifegivesevidenceinAirDeathMystery.’Someofthemput‘…inSnakePoisonMystery.’
Thosewhowroteforwomen’spapersput,‘LadyHorburyworeoneofthenewcollegianhatsandfoxfurs,’or‘LadyHorbury,whoisoneofthesmartestwomenintown,woreblackwithoneofthenewcollegianhats,’or‘LadyHorbury,whobeforehermarriagewasMissCicelyBland,wassmartlydressedinblackwithoneofthenewhats…’
Everyoneenjoyedlookingatthesmartandlovelyyoungwoman,thoughherevidencewasofthebriefest.Shehadnoticednothing;shehadneverseenthedeceasedbefore.
VenetiaKerrsucceededher,butwasdefinitelylessofathrill.
Theindefatigablepurveyorsofnewsforwomenwrote,‘LordCottesmore’sdaughterworeawell-cutcoatandskirtwithoneofthenewstocks,’andnoteddownthephrase,‘SocietyWomenatInquest.’
‘JamesRyder.’
‘YouareJamesBellRyder,andyouraddressis17BlainberryAvenue,NW?’
‘Yes.’
‘Whatisyourbusinessorprofession?’
‘IammanagingdirectoroftheEllisValeCementCo.’
‘Willyoukindlyexaminethisblowpipe.’(Apause.)‘Haveyoueverseenthisbefore?’
‘No.’
‘Youdidnotseeanysuchthinginanybody’shandonboardthePrometheus?’
‘No.’
‘YouweresittinginseatNo.4,immediatelyinfrontofthedeceased?’
‘WhatifIwas?’
‘Pleasedonottakethattonewithme.YouweresittinginseatNo.4.Fromthatseatyouhadaviewofpracticallyeveryoneinthecompartment.’
‘No,Ihadn’t.Icouldn’tseeanyofthepeopleonmysideofthething.Theseatshavegothighbacks.’
‘Butifoneofthosepeoplehadsteppedoutintothegangway—intosuchapositionastobeabletoaimtheblowpipeatthedeceased—youwouldhaveseenthemthen?’
‘Certainly.’
‘Andyousawnosuchthing?’
‘No.’
‘Didanyofthepeopleinfrontofyoumovefromtheirseats?’
‘Well,themantwoseatsaheadofmegotupandwenttothetoiletcompartment.’
‘Thatwasinadirectionawayfromyouandfromthedeceased?’
‘Yes.’
‘Didhecomedownthecartowardsyouatall?’
‘No,hewentstraightbacktohisseat.’
‘Washecarryinganythinginhishand?’
‘Nothingatall.’
‘You’resureofthat?’
‘Quite.’
‘Didanyoneelsemovefromhisseat?’
‘Thechapinfrontofme.Hecametheotherway,pastmetothebackofthecar.’
‘Iprotest,’squeakedMrClancy,springingupfromhisseatincourt.‘Thatwasearlier—muchearlier—aboutoneo’clock.’
‘Kindlysitdown,’saidthecoroner.‘Youwillbeheardpresently.Proceed,MrRyder.Didyounoticeifthisgentlemanhadanythinginhishands?’
‘Ithinkhehadafountain-pen.Whenhecamebackhehadanorangebookinhishand.’
‘Ishetheonlypersonwhocamedownthecarinyourdirection?Didyouyourselfleaveyourseat?’
‘Yes,Iwenttothetoiletcompartment—andIdidn’thaveanyblowpipeinmyhandeither.’
‘Youareadoptingahighlyimpropertone.Standdown.’
MrNormanGale,dentist,gaveevidenceofanegativecharacter.ThentheindignantMrClancytookthestand.
MrClancywasnewsofaminorkind,severaldegreesinferiortoaPeeress.
‘MysteryStoryWritergivesEvidence.Well-knownauthoradmitspurchaseofdeadlyweapon.Sensationincourt.’
Butthesensationwasperhapsalittlepremature.
‘Yes,sir,’saidMrClancyshrilly.‘Ididpurchaseablowpipe,andwhatismore,Ihavebroughtitwithmetoday.Iproteststronglyagainsttheinferencethattheblowpipewithwhichthecrimewascommittedwasmyblowpipe.Hereismyblowpipe.’
Andheproducedtheblowpipewithatriumphantflourish.
Thereporterswrote,‘Secondblowpipeincourt.’
ThecoronerdealtseverelywithMrClancy.Hewastoldthathewasheretoassistjustice,nottorebuttotallyimaginarychargesagainsthimself.ThenhewasquestionedabouttheoccurrencesonthePrometheus,butwithverylittleresult.MrClancy,asheexplainedattotallyunnecessarylength,hadbeentoobemusedwiththeeccentricitiesofforeigntrainservicesandthedifficultiesofthetwenty-fourhourtimestohavenoticedanythingatallgoingonroundabouthim.Thewholecarmighthavebeenshootingsnake-venomeddartsoutofblowpipesforallMrClancywouldhavenoticedofthematter.
MissJaneGrey,hairdresser’sassistant,creatednoflutteramongjournalisticpens.
ThetwoFrenchmenfollowed.
M.ArmandDupontdeposedthathewasonhiswaytoLondon,wherehewastodeliveralecturebeforetheRoyalAsiaticSociety.Heandhissonhadbeenveryinterestedinatechnicaldiscussionandhadnoticedverylittleofwhatwentonroundthem.Hehadnotnoticedthedeceaseduntilhisattentionwasattractedbythestirofexcitementcausedbythediscoveryofherdeath.
‘DidyouknowthisMadameMorisotorMadameGisellebysight?’
‘No,Monsieur,Ihadneverseenherbefore.’
‘Butsheisawell-knownfigureinParis,isshenot?’
OldM.Dupontshruggedhisshoulders.
‘Nottome.Inanycase,IamnotverymuchinParisthesedays.’
‘YouhavelatelyreturnedfromtheEast,Iunderstand?’
‘Thatisso,Monsieur—fromPersia.’
‘Youandyoursonhavetravelledagooddealinout-of-the-waypartsoftheworld?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Youhavejourneyedinwildplaces?’
‘That,yes.’
‘Haveyouevercomeacrossaraceofpeoplethatusedsnakevenomasanarrowpoison?’
Thishadtobetranslated,andwhenM.Dupontunderstoodthequestionheshookhisheadvigorously.
‘Never—neverhaveIcomeacrossanythinglikethat.’
Hissonfollowedhim.Hisevidencewasarepetitionofhisfather’s.Hehadnoticednothing.Hehadthoughtitpossiblethatthedeceasedhadbeenstungbyawasp,becausehehadhimselfbeenannoyedbyoneandhadfinallykilledit.
TheDupontswerethelastwitnesses.
Thecoronerclearedhisthroatandaddressedthejury.
This,hesaid,waswithoutdoubtthemostastonishingandincrediblecasewithwhichhehadeverdealtinthiscourt.Awomanhadbeenmurdered—theycouldruleoutanyquestionofsuicideoraccident—inmid-air,inasmallenclosedspace.Therewasnoquestionofanyoutsidepersonhavingcommittedthecrime.Themurdererormurderersmustbeofnecessityoneofthewitnessestheyhadheardthismorning.Therewasnogettingawayfromthatfact,andaveryterribleandawfuloneitwas.Oneofthepersonspresenthadbeenlyinginadesperateandabandonedmanner.
Themannerofthecrimewasoneofunparalleledaudacity.Inthefullviewoften—ortwelve,countingthestewards—witnesses,themurdererhadplacedablowpipetohislipsandsentthefataldartonitsmurderouscoursethroughtheairandnoonehadobservedtheact.Itseemedfranklyincredible,buttherewastheevidenceoftheblowpipe,ofthedartfoundonthefloor,ofthemarkonthedeceased’sneckandofthemedicalevidencetoshowthat,incredibleornot,ithadhappened.
Intheabsenceoffurtherevidenceincriminatingsomeparticularperson,hecouldonlydirectthejurytoreturnaverdictofmurderagainstapersonorpersonsunknown.Everyonepresenthaddeniedanyknowledgeofthedeceasedwoman.Itwouldbetheworkofthepolicetofindouthowandwhereaconnexionlay.Intheabsenceofanymotiveforthecrimehecouldonlyadvisetheverdicthehadjustmentioned.Thejurywouldnowconsidertheverdict.
Asquare-facedmemberofthejurywithsuspiciouseyesleanedforwardbreathingheavily.
‘CanIaskaquestion,sir?’
‘Certainly.’
‘Yousayashowtheblowpipewasfounddownaseat?Whoseseatwasit?’
Thecoronerconsultedhisnotes.SergeantWilsonsteppedtohissideandmurmured:
‘Ah,yes.TheseatinquestionwasNo.9,aseatoccupiedbyM.HerculePoirot.M.Poirot,Imaysay,isaverywell-knownandrespectedprivatedetectivewhohas—er—collaboratedseveraltimeswithScotlandYard.’
Thesquare-facedmantransferredhisgazetothefaceofM.HerculePoirot.ItrestedwithafarfromsatisfiedexpressiononthelittleBelgian’slongmoustaches.
‘Foreigners,’saidtheeyesofthesquare-facedman,‘youcan’ttrustforeigners,noteveniftheyarehand-and-glovewiththepolice.’
Outloudhesaid:
‘ItwasthisMrPoirotwhopickedupthedart,wasn’tit?’
‘Yes.’
Thejuryretired.Theyreturnedafterfiveminutes,andtheforemanhandedapieceofpapertothecoroner.
‘What’sallthis?’Thecoronerfrowned.‘Nonsense,Ican’tacceptthisverdict.’
Afewminuteslatertheamendedverdictwasreturned:‘Wefindthatthedeceasedcametoherdeathbypoison,therebeinginsufficientevidencetoshowbywhomthepoisonwasadministered.’
Chapter5
AftertheInquest
AsJaneleftthecourtaftertheverdictshefoundNormanGalebesideher.
Hesaid,‘Iwonderwhatwasonthatpaperthatthecoronerwouldn’thaveatanyprice?’
‘Icantellyou,Ithink,’saidavoicebehindhim.
Thecoupleturned,tolookintothetwinklingeyesofM.HerculePoirot.
‘Itwasaverdict,’saidthelittleman,‘ofwilfulmurderagainstme.’
‘Oh,surely—’criedJane.
Poirotnoddedhappily.
‘Maisoui.AsIcameoutIheardonemansaytotheother,“Thatlittleforeigner—markmywords,hedoneit!”Thejurythoughtthesame.’
Janewasuncertainwhethertocondoleortolaugh.Shedecidedonthelatter.Poirotlaughedinsympathy.
‘But,seeyou,’hesaid,‘definitelyImustsettoworkandclearmycharacter.’
Withasmileandabowhemovedaway.
JaneandNormanstaredafterhisretreatingfigure.
‘Whatanextraordinarilyrumlittlebeggar,’saidGale.‘Callshimselfadetective.Idon’tseehowhecoulddomuchdetecting.Anycriminalcouldspothimamileoff.Idon’tseehowhecoulddisguisehimself.’
‘Haven’tyougotaveryold-fashionedideaofdetectives?’askedJane.‘Allthefalsebeardstuffisveryoutofdate.Nowadaysdetectivesjustsitandthinkoutacasepsychologically.’
‘Ratherlessstrenuous.’
‘Physically,perhaps;butofcourseyouneedacool,clearbrain.’
‘Isee.Ahotmuddledonewon’tdo.’
Theybothlaughed.
‘Lookhere,’saidGale.Aslightflushroseinhischeeksandhespokeratherfast.‘Wouldyoumind—Imean,itwouldbefrightfullyniceofyou—it’sabitlate—buthowabouthavingsometeawithme?Ifeel—comradesinmisfortune—and—’
Hestopped.Tohimselfhesaid:
‘Whatisthematterwithyou,youfool?Can’tyouaskagirltohaveacupofteawithoutstammeringandblushingandmakinganutterassofyourself?Whatwillthegirlthinkofyou?’
Gale’sconfusionservedtoaccentuateJane’scoolnessandself-possession.
‘Thankyouverymuch,’shesaid.‘Iwouldlikesometea.’
Theyfoundatea-shopandadisdainfulwaitresswithagloomymannertooktheirorderwithanairofdoubtasofonewhomightsay:‘Don’tblamemeifyou’redisappointed.Theysayweserveteashere,butIneverheardofit.’
Thetea-shopwasnearlyempty.Itsemptinessservedtoemphasizetheintimacyofteadrinkingtogether.Janepeeledoffherglovesandlookedacrossthetableathercompanion.Hewasattractive—thoseblueeyesandthatsmile.Andhewasnicetoo.
‘It’saqueershow,thismurderbusiness,’saidGale,plunginghastilyintotalk.Hewasstillnotquitefreefromanabsurdfeelingofembarrassment.
‘Iknow,’saidJane.‘I’mratherworriedaboutit—fromthepointofviewofmyjob,Imean.Idon’tknowhowthey’lltakeit.’
‘Ye-es.Ihadn’tthoughtofthat.’
‘Antoine’smayn’tliketoemployagirlwho’sbeenmixedupinamurdercaseandhadtogiveevidence,andallthat.’
‘Peoplearequeer,’saidNormanGalethoughtfully.‘Life’sso—sounfair.Athinglikethisthatisn’tyourfaultatall—’Hefrownedangrily.‘It’sdamnable!’
‘Well,ithasn’thappenedyet,’Janeremindedhim.‘Nogoodgettinghotandbotheredaboutsomethingthathasn’thappened.Afterall,Isupposethereissomepointinit—Imightbethepersonwhomurderedher!Andwhenyou’vemurderedonepersontheysayyouusuallymurderalotmore;anditwouldn’tbeverycomfortablehavingyourhairdonebyapersonofthatkind.’
‘Anyone’sonlygottolookatyoutoknowyoucouldn’tmurderanybody,’saidNorman,gazingatherearnestly.
‘I’mnotsosureaboutthat,’saidJane.‘I’dliketomurdersomeofmyladiessometimes—ifIcouldbesureI’dgetawaywithit!There’soneinparticular—she’sgotavoicelikeacorncrakeandshegrumblesateverything.Ireallythinksometimesthatmurderingherwouldbeagooddeedandnotacrimeatall.SoyouseeI’mquitecriminallyminded.’
‘Well,youdidn’tdothisparticularmurder,anyway,’saidGale.‘Icansweartothat.’
‘AndIcanswearyoudidn’tdoit,’saidJane.‘Butthatwon’thelpyouifyourpatientsthinkyouhave.’
‘Mypatients,yes—’Galelookedratherthoughtful.‘Isupposeyou’reright—Ihadn’treallythoughtofthat.Adentistwhomightbeahomicidalmaniac—no,it’snotaveryalluringprospect.’
Headdedsuddenlyandimpulsively:
‘Isay,youdon’tmindmybeingadentist,doyou?’
Janeraisedhereyebrows.
‘I?Mind?’
‘WhatImeanis,there’salwayssomethingrather—well,comicaboutadentist.Somehowit’snotaromanticprofession.Nowadoctoreveryonetakesseriously.’
‘Cheerup,’saidJane.‘Adentistisdecidedlyacutaboveahairdresser’sassistant.’
Theylaughed,andGalesaid,‘Ifeelwe’regoingtobefriends.Doyou?’
‘Yes,IthinkIdo.’
‘Perhapsyou’lldinewithmeonenightandwemightdoashow?’
‘Thankyou.’
Therewasapause,andthenGalesaid:
‘HowdidyoulikeLePinet?’
‘Itwasgreatfun.’
‘Hadyoueverbeentherebefore?’
‘No,yousee—’
Jane,suddenlyconfidential,cameoutwiththestoryofthewinningSweepticket.TheyagreedtogetheronthegeneralromanceanddesirabilityofSweepsanddeploredtheattitudeofanunsympatheticEnglishGovernment.
Theirconversationwasinterruptedbyayoungmaninabrownsuitwhohadbeenhoveringuncertainlynearbyforsomeminutesbeforetheynoticedhim.
Now,however,heliftedhishatandaddressedJanewithacertainglibassurance.
‘MissJaneGrey?’hesaid.
‘Yes.’
‘IrepresenttheWeeklyHowl,MissGrey.IwonderedifyouwouldcaretodousashortarticleonthisAirDeathMurder?Pointofviewofoneofthepassengers.’
‘IthinkI’drathernot,thanks.’
‘Oh,comenow,MissGrey.We’dpaywellforit.’
‘Howmuch?’askedJane.
‘Fiftypounds—or,well—perhapswe’dmakeitabitmore.Saysixty.’
‘No,’saidJane.‘Idon’tthinkIcould.Ishouldn’tknowwhattosay.’
‘That’sallright,’saidtheyoungmaneasily.‘Youneedn’tactuallywritethearticle,youknow.Oneofourfellowswilljustaskyouforafewsuggestionsandworkthewholethingupforyou.Itwon’tbetheleasttroubletoyou.’
‘Allthesame,’saidJane,‘I’drathernot.’
‘Whataboutahundredquid?Lookhere,Ireallywillmakeitahundred;andgiveusaphotograph.’
‘No,’saidJane.‘Idon’tliketheidea.’
‘Soyoumayaswellclearout,’saidNormanGale.‘MissGreydoesn’twanttobeworried.’
Theyoungmanturnedtohimhopefully.
‘MrGale,isn’tit?’hesaid.‘Nowlookhere,MrGale,ifMissGreyfeelsabitsqueamishaboutit,whataboutyourhavingashot?Fivehundredwords.Andwe’llpayyouthesameasIofferedMissGrey—andthat’sagoodbargain,becauseawoman’saccountofanotherwoman’smurderisbetternewsvalue.I’mofferingyouagoodchance.’
‘Idon’twantit.Ishan’twriteawordforyou.’
‘It’llbegoodpublicityapartfromthepay.Risingprofessionalman—brilliantcareeraheadofyou—allyourpatientswillreadit.’
‘That,’saidNormanGale,‘ismostlywhatI’mafraidof.’
‘Well,youcan’tgetanywherewithoutpublicityinthesedays.’
‘Possibly,butitdependsonthekindofpublicity.I’mhopingthatjustoneortwoofmypatientsmaynotreadthepapersandmaycontinueinignoranceofthefactthatI’vebeenmixedupinamurdercase.Nowyou’vehadyouranswerfrombothofus.Areyougoingquietly,orhaveIgottokickyououtofhere?’
‘Nothingtogetannoyedabout,’saidtheyoungman,quiteundisturbedbythisthreatofviolence.‘Goodevening,andringmeupattheofficeifyouchangeyourmind.Here’smycard.’
Hemadehiswaycheerfullyoutofthetea-shop,thinkingtohimselfashedidso:‘Nottoobad.Madequiteadecentinterview.’
AndintruththenextissueoftheWeeklyHowlhadanimportantcolumnontheviewsoftwoofthewitnessesintheAirMurderMystery.MissJaneGreyhaddeclaredherselftoodistressedtotalkaboutthematter.Ithadbeenaterribleshocktoherandshehatedtothinkaboutit.MrNormanGalehadexpressedhimselfatgreatlengthontheeffectuponaprofessionalman’scareerofbeingmixedupinacriminalcase,howeverinnocently.MrGalehadhumorouslyexpressedthehopethatsomeofhispatientsonlyreadthefashioncolumnsandsomightnotsuspecttheworstwhentheycamefortheordealof‘thechair’.
WhentheyoungmanhaddepartedJanesaid:
‘Iwonderwhyhedidn’tgoforthemoreimportantpeople?’
‘Leavesthattohisbetters,probably,’saidGalegrimly.‘He’sprobablytriedthereandfailed.’
Hesatfrowningforaminuteortwo,thenhesaid:
‘Jane(I’mgoingtocallyouJane.Youdon’tmind,doyou?)Jane—whodoyouthinkreallymurderedthisGisellewoman?’
‘Ihaven’tthefaintestidea.’
‘Haveyouthoughtaboutit?Reallythoughtaboutit?’
‘Well,no,Idon’tsupposeIhave.I’vebeenthinkingaboutmyownpartinit,andworryingalittle.Ihaven’treallywonderedseriouslywhich—whichoftheothersdidit.Idon’tthinkI’drealizeduntiltodaythatoneofthemmusthavedoneit.’
‘Yes,thecoronerputitveryplainly.IknowIdidn’tdoit,andIknowyoudidn’tdoit,because—well,becauseIwaswatchingyoumostofthetime.’
‘Yes,’saidJane.‘Iknowyoudidn’tdoit—forthesamereason.AndofcourseIknowIdidn’tdoitmyself!Soitmusthavebeenoneoftheothers;butIdon’tknowwhich.Ihaven’ttheslightestidea.Haveyou?’
‘No.’
NormanGalelookedverythoughtful.Heseemedtobepuzzlingoutsometrainofthought.Janewenton:
‘Idon’tseehowwecanhavetheleastidea,either.Imeanwedidn’tseeanything—atleastIdidn’t.Didyou?’
Galeshookhishead.
‘Notathing.’
‘That’swhatseemssofrightfullyodd.Idaresayyouwouldn’thaveseenanything.Youweren’tfacingthatway.ButIwas.Iwaslookingrightalongthemiddle.Imean—Icouldhavebeen—’
Janestoppedandflushed.Shewasrememberingthathereyeshadbeenmostlyfixedonaperiwinkle-bluepullover,andthathermind,farfrombeingreceptivetowhatwasgoingonaroundher,hadbeenmainlyconcernedwiththepersonalityofthehumanbeinginsidetheperiwinkle-bluepullover.
NormanGalethought:
‘Iwonderwhatmakesherblushlikethat…She’swonderful…I’mgoingtomarryher…Yes,Iam…Butit’snogoodlookingtoofarahead.I’vegottohavesomegoodexcuseforseeingheroften.Thismurderbusinesswilldoaswellasanythingelse…Besides,Ireallythinkitwouldbeaswelltodosomething—thatwhipper-snapperofareporterandhispublicity…’
Aloudhesaid:
‘Let’sthinkaboutitnow.Whokilledher?Let’sgooverallthepeople.Thestewards?’
‘No,’saidJane.
‘Iagree.Thewomenoppositeus?’
‘Idon’tsupposeanyonelikeLadyHorburywouldgokillingpeople.Andtheotherone,MissKerr,well,she’sfartoocounty.Shewouldn’tkillanoldFrenchwoman,I’msure.’
‘OnlyanunpopularMFH?Iexpectyou’renotfarwrong,Jane.Thenthere’smoustachios,butheseems,accordingtothecoroner’sjury,tobethemostlikelyperson,sothatwasheshimout.Thedoctor?Thatdoesn’tseemverylikely,either.’
‘Ifhe’dwantedtokillherhecouldhaveusedsomethingquiteuntraceableandnobodywouldeverhaveknown.’
‘Ye-es,’saidNormandoubtfully.‘Theseuntraceable,tasteless,odourlesspoisonsareveryconvenient,butI’mabitdoubtfuliftheyreallyexist.Whataboutthelittlemanwhoowneduptohavingablowpipe?’
‘That’srathersuspicious.Butheseemedaverynicelittleman,andheneedn’thavesaidhehadablowpipe,sothatlooksasthoughhewereallright.’
‘Thenthere’sJameson—no—what’shisname—Ryder?’
‘Yes,itmightbehim.’
‘AndthetwoFrenchmen?’
‘That’sthemostlikelyofall.They’vebeentoqueerplaces.Andofcoursetheymayhavehadsomereasonweknownothingabout.Ithoughttheyoungeronelookedveryunhappyandworried.’
‘Youprobablywouldbeworriedifyou’dcommittedamurder,’saidNormanGalegrimly.
‘Helookednice,though,’saidJane;‘andtheoldfatherwasratheradear.Ihopeitisn’tthem.’
‘Wedon’tseemtobegettingonveryfast,’saidNormanGale.
‘Idon’tseehowwecangetonwithoutknowingalotofthingsabouttheoldwomanwhowasmurdered.Enemies,andwhoinheritshermoney,andallthat.’
NormanGalesaidthoughtfully:
‘Youthinkthisismereidlespeculation?’
Janesaidcoolly,‘Isn’tit?’
‘Notquite.’Galehesitated,thenwentonslowly,‘Ihaveafeelingitmaybeuseful—’
Janelookedathiminquiringly.
‘Murder,’saidNormanGale,‘doesn’tconcernthevictimandtheguiltyonly.Itaffectstheinnocenttoo.YouandIareinnocent,buttheshadowofmurderhastouchedus.Wedon’tknowhowthatshadowisgoingtoaffectourlives.’
Janewasapersonofcoolcommonsense,butsheshiveredsuddenly.
‘Don’t,’shesaid.‘Youmakemefeelafraid.’
‘I’malittleafraidmyself,’saidGale.
Chapter6
Consultation
HerculePoirotrejoinedhisfriendInspectorJapp.Thelatterhadagrinonhisface.
‘Hullo,oldboy,’hesaid.‘You’vehadaprettynearsqueakofbeinglockedupinapolicecell.’
‘Ifear,’saidPoirotgravely,‘thatsuchanoccurrencemighthavedamagedmeprofessionally.’
‘Well,’saidJappwithagrin,‘detectivesdoturnouttobecriminalssometimes—instorybooks.’
Atallthinmanwithanintelligent,melancholyfacejoinedthem,andJappintroducedhim.
‘ThisisMonsieurFournieroftheS?reté.Hehascomeovertocollaboratewithusaboutthisbusiness.’
‘IthinkIhavehadthepleasureofmeetingyouoncesomeyearsago,M.Poirot,’saidFournier,bowingandshakinghands.‘IhavealsoheardofyoufromM.Giraud.’
Averyfaintsmileseemedtohoveronhislips.AndPoirot,whocouldwellimaginethetermsinwhichGiraud(whomhehimselfhadbeeninthehabitofreferringtodisparaginglyasthe‘humanfox-hound’)hadspokenofhim,permittedhimselfasmalldiscreetsmileinreply.
‘Isuggest,’saidPoirot,‘thatbothyougentlemenshoulddinewithmeatmyrooms.IhavealreadyinvitedMa?treThibault.Thatis,ifyouandmyfriendJappdonotobjecttomycollaboration.’
‘That’sallright,oldcock,’saidJapp,slappinghimheartilyontheback.‘You’reinonthisonthegroundfloor.’
‘Weshallbeindeedhonoured,’murmuredtheFrenchmanceremoniously.
‘Yousee,’saidPoirot,‘asIsaidtoaverycharmingyoungladyjustnow,Iamanxioustoclearmycharacter.’
‘Thatjurycertainlydidn’tlikethelookofyou,’agreedJappwitharenewalofhisgrin.‘BestjokeI’veheardforalongtime.’
BycommonconsentnomentionofthecasewasmadeduringtheveryexcellentmealwhichthelittleBelgianprovidedforhisfriends.
‘Afterall,itispossibletoeatwellinEngland,’murmuredFournierappreciativelyashemadedelicateuseofathoughtfullyprovidedtoothpick.
‘Adeliciousmeal,M.Poirot,’saidThibault.
‘BitFrenchified,butdamngood,’pronouncedJapp.
‘Amealshouldalwayslielightlyontheestomac,’saidPoirot.‘Itshouldnotbesoheavyastoparalysethought.’
‘Ican’tsaymystomachevergivesmemuchtrouble,’saidJapp.‘ButIwon’targuethepoint.Well,we’dbettergetdowntobusiness.IknowthatM.Thibaulthasgotanappointmentthisevening,soIsuggestthatweshouldstartbyconsultinghimonanypointthatseemslikelytobeuseful.’
‘Iamatyourservice,gentlemen.NaturallyIcanspeakmorefreelyherethaninacoroner’scourt.IhadahurriedconversationwithInspectorJappbeforetheinquest,andheindicatedapolicyofreticence—thebarenecessaryfacts.’
‘Quiteright,’saidJapp.‘Don’teverspillthebeanstoosoon.Butnowlet’shearallyoucantellusofthisGisellewoman.’
‘Tospeakthetruth,Iknowverylittle.Iknowherastheworldknewher—asapubliccharacter.OfherprivatelifeasanindividualIknowverylittle.ProbablyM.FournierherecantellyoumorethanIcan.ButIwillsaytoyouthis:MadameGisellewaswhatyoucallinthiscountry“acharacter”.Shewasunique.Ofherantecedentsnothingisknown.Ihaveanideathatasayoungwomanshewasgood-looking.Ibelievethatasaresultofsmallpoxshelostherlooks.Shewas—Iamgivingyoumyimpressions—awomanwhoenjoyedpower;shehadpower.Shewasakeenwomanofbusiness.Shewasthetypeofhard-headedFrenchwomanwhowouldneverallowsentimenttoaffectherbusinessinterests;butshehadthereputationofcarryingonherprofessionwithscrupuloushonesty.’
HelookedforassenttoFournier.Thatgentlemannoddedhisdarkmelancholichead.
‘Yes,’hesaid.‘Shewashonest—accordingtoherlights.Yetthelawcouldhavecalledhertoaccountifonlyevidencehadbeenforthcoming;butthat—’Heshruggedhisshouldersdespondently.‘Itistoomuchtoask,withhumannaturewhatitis.’
‘Youmean?’
‘Chantage.’
‘Blackmail?’echoedJapp.
‘Yes,blackmailofapeculiarandspecializedkind.ItwasMadameGiselle’scustomtolendmoneyonwhatIthinkyoucallinthiscountry“noteofhandalone”.Sheusedherdiscretionastothesumsshelentandthemethodsofrepayment;butImaytellyouthatshehadherownmethodsofgettingpaid.’
Poirotleanedforwardinterestedly.
‘AsMa?treThibaultsaidtoday,MadameGiselle’sclientèlelayamongsttheupperandprofessionalclasses.Thoseclassesareparticularlyvulnerabletotheforceofpublicopinion.MadameGisellehadherownintelligenceservice…Itwashercustombeforelendingmoney(thatis,inthecaseofalargesum)tocollectasmanyfactsaspossibleabouttheclientinquestion;andherintelligencesystem,Imaysay,wasanextraordinarilygoodone.Iwillechowhatourfriendhassaid:accordingtoherlightsMadameGisellewasscrupulouslyhonest.Shekeptfaithwiththosewhokeptfaithwithher.Ihonestlybelievethatshehasnevermadeuseofhersecretknowledgetoobtainmoneyfromanyoneunlessthatmoneywasalreadyowedtoher.’
‘Youmean,’saidPoirot,‘thatthissecretknowledgewasherformofsecurity?’
‘Exactly;andinusingitshewasperfectlyruthlessanddeaftoanyfinershadesoffeeling;andIwilltellyouthis,gentlemen:hersystempaid!Very,veryrarelydidshehavetowriteoffabaddebt.Amanorwomaninaprominentpositionwouldgotodesperatelengthstoobtainthemoneywhichwouldobviateapublicscandal.AsIsay,weknewofheractivities;butasforprosecution—’Heshruggedhisshoulders.‘Thatisamoredifficultmatter.Humannatureishumannature.’
‘Andsupposing,’saidPoirot,‘thatshedid,asyousayhappenedoccasionally,havetowriteoffabaddebt—whatthen?’
‘Inthatcase,’saidFournierslowly,‘theinformationsheheldwaspublished,orwasgiventothepersonconcernedinthematter.’
Therewasamoment’ssilence.ThenPoirotsaid:
‘Financially,thatdidnotbenefither?’
‘No,’saidFournier—‘notdirectly,thatis.’
‘Butindirectly?’
‘Indirectly,’saidJapp,‘itmadetheotherspayup,eh?’
‘Exactly,’saidFournier.‘Itwasvaluableforwhatyoucallthemoraleffect.’
‘Immoraleffect,Ishouldcallit,’saidJapp.‘Well’—herubbedhisnosethoughtfully—‘itopensupaveryprettylineinmotivesformurder—averyprettyline.Thenthere’sthequestionofwhoisgoingtocomeintohermoney.’HeappealedtoThibault.‘Canyouhelpusthereatall?’
‘Therewasadaughter,’saidthelawyer.‘Shedidnotlivewithhermother—indeedIfancythathermotherhasneverseenhersinceshewasatinychild;butshemadeawillmanyyearsagonowleavingeverything,withtheexceptionofasmalllegacytohermaid,toherdaughterAnneMorisot.AsfarasIknowshehasnevermadeanother.’
‘Andherfortuneislarge?’askedPoirot.
Thelawyershruggedhisshoulders.
‘Ataguesseightorninemillionfrancs.’
Poirotpursedhislipstoawhistle.Jappsaid,‘Lord,shedidn’tlookit.Letmesee,what’stheexchange—that’s—why,thatmustbewelloverahundredthousandpounds.Whew!’
‘MademoiselleAnneMorisotwillbeaverywealthyyoungwoman,’saidPoirot.
‘Justaswellshewasn’tonthatplane,’saidJappdrily.‘Shemighthavebeensuspectedofbumpingoffhermothertogetthedibs.Howoldwouldshebe?’
‘Ireallycannotsay.Ishouldimagineabouttwenty-fourorfive.’
‘Well,theredoesn’tseemanythingtoconnectherwiththecrime.We’llhavetogetdowntothisblackmailingbusiness.EveryoneonthatplanedeniesknowingMadameGiselle.Oneofthemislying.We’vegottofindoutwhich.Anexaminationofherprivatepapersmighthelp,eh,Fournier?’
‘Myfriend,’saidtheFrenchman,‘immediatelythenewscamethrough,afterIhadconversedwithScotlandYardonthetelephone,Iwentstraighttoherhouse.Therewasasafetherecontainingpapers.Allthosepapershadbeenburnt.’
‘Burnt?Whoby?Why?’
‘MadameGisellehadaconfidentialmaid,Elise.Elisehadinstructionsintheeventofanythinghappeningtohermistresstoopenthesafe(thecombinationofwhichsheknew)andburnthecontents.’
‘What?Butthat’samazing!’Jappstared.
‘Yousee,’saidFournier,‘MadameGisellehadherowncode.Shekeptfaithwiththosewhokeptfaithwithher.Shegaveherpromisetoherclientsthatshewoulddealhonestlywiththem.Shewasruthless,butshewasalsoawomanofherword.’
Jappshookhisheaddumbly.Thefourmenweresilent,ruminatingonthestrangecharacterofthedeadwoman…
Ma?treThibaultrose.
‘Imustleaveyou,Messieurs.Ihavetokeepanappointment.IfthereisanyfurtherinformationIcangiveyouatanytime,youknowmyaddress.’
Heshookhandswiththemceremoniouslyandlefttheapartment.
Chapter7
Probabilities
WiththedepartureofMa?treThibault,thethreemendrewtheirchairsalittleclosertothetable.
‘Now,then,’saidJapp,‘let’sgetdowntoit.’Heunscrewedthecapofhisfountain-pen.‘Therewereelevenpassengersinthatplane—intherearcar,Imean;theotherdoesn’tcomeintoit—elevenpassengersandtwostewards—that’sthirteenpeoplewe’vegot.Oneoftheremainingtwelvedidtheoldwomanin.SomeofthepassengerswereEnglish,somewereFrench.ThelatterIshallhandovertoM.Fournier.TheEnglishonesI’lltakeon.ThenthereareinquiriestobemadeinParis—that’syourjobtoo,Fournier.’
‘AndnotonlyinParis,’saidFournier.‘InthesummerGiselledidalotofbusinessattheFrenchwatering-places—Deauville,LePinet,Wimereux.Shewentdownsouthtoo,toAntibesandNice,andallthoseplaces.’
‘Agoodpoint;oneortwoofthepeopleinthePrometheusmentionedLePinet,Iremember.Well,that’soneline.Thenwe’vegottogetdowntotheactualmurderitself—provewhocouldpossiblybeinapositiontousethatblowpipe.’Heunrolledalargesketchplanofthecaroftheaeroplaneandplaceditinthecentreofthetable.‘Now,then,we’rereadyforthepreliminarywork.And,tobeginwith,let’sgothroughthepeopleonebyone,anddecideontheprobabilitiesand—evenmoreimportant—thepossibilities.
‘Tobeginwith,wecaneliminateM.Poirothere.Thatbringsthenumberdowntoeleven.’
Poirotshookhisheadsadly.
‘Youareoftootrustfulanature,myfriend.Youshouldtrustnobody—nobodyatall.’
‘Well,we’llleaveyouinifyoulike,’saidJappgood-temperedly.‘Thentherearethestewards.Seemstomeveryunlikelyitshouldbeeitherofthemfromtheprobabilitypointofview.They’renotlikelytohaveborrowedmoneyonagrandscaleandthey’vebothgotagoodrecord—decent,sobermen,bothofthem.Itwouldsurprisemeverymuchifeitherofthemhadanythingtodowiththis.Ontheotherhand,fromthepossibilitypointofviewwe’vegottoincludethem.Theywereupanddownthecar.Theycouldactuallyhavetakenupapositionfromwhichtheycouldhaveusedthatblowpipe—fromtherightangle,Imean—thoughIdon’tbelievethatastewardcouldshootapoisoneddartoutofablowpipeinacarfullofpeoplewithoutsomeonenoticinghimdoit.Iknowbyexperiencethatmostpeopleareblindasbats;buttherearelimits.Ofcourse,inaway,thesamethingappliestoeveryblessedperson.Itwasmadness,absolutemadness,tocommitacrimethatway.Onlyaboutachanceinahundredthatitwouldcomeoffwithoutbeingspotted.Thefellowthatdiditmusthavehadtheluckofthedevil.Ofallthedamnfoolwaystocommitamurder—’
Poirot,whohadbeensittingwithhiseyesdown,smokingquietly,interposedaquestion.
‘Youthinkitwasafoolishwayofcommittingamurder,yes?’
‘Ofcourseitwas.Itwasabsolutemadness.’
‘Andyet—itsucceeded.Wesithere,wethree,wetalkaboutit,butwehavenoknowledgeofwhocommittedthecrime!Thatissuccess!’
‘That’spureluck,’arguedJapp.‘Themurdereroughttohavebeenspottedfiveorsixtimesover.’
Poirotshookhisheadinadissatisfiedmanner.
Fournierlookedathimcuriously.
‘Whatisitthatisinyourmind,M.Poirot?’
‘Monami,’saidPoirot,‘mypointisthis:anaffairmustbejudgedbyitsresults.Thisaffairhassucceeded.Thatismypoint.’
‘Andyet,’saidtheFrenchmanthoughtfully,‘itseemsalmostamiracle.’
‘Miracleornomiracle,thereitis,’saidJapp.‘We’vegotthemedicalevidence,we’vegottheweapon;andifanyonehadtoldmeaweekagothatIshouldbeinvestigatingacrimewhereawomanwaskilledwithapoisoneddartwithsnakevenomonit—well,I’dhavelaughedinhisface!It’saninsult—that’swhatthismurderis—aninsult.’
Hebreatheddeeply.Poirotsmiled.
‘Itis,perhaps,amurdercommittedbyapersonwithapervertedsenseofhumour,’saidFournierthoughtfully.‘Itismostimportantinacrimetogetanideaofthepsychologyofthemurderer.’
Jappsnortedslightlyatthewordpsychology,whichhedislikedandmistrusted
‘That’sthesortofstuffM.Poirotlikestohear,’hesaid.
‘Iamveryinterested,yes,inwhatyoubothsay.’
‘Youdon’tdoubtthatshewaskilledthatway,Isuppose?’Jappaskedhimsuspiciously.‘Iknowyourtortuousmind.’
‘No,no,myfriend.Mymindisquiteateaseonthatpoint.ThepoisonedthornthatIpickedupwasthecauseofdeath—thatisquitecertain.Butneverthelesstherearepointsaboutthiscase—’
Hepaused,shakinghisheadperplexedly
Jappwenton:
‘Well,togetbacktoourIrishstew,wecan’twashoutthestewardsabsolutely,butIthinkmyselfit’sveryunlikelythateitherofthemhadanythingtodowithit.Doyouagree,M.Poirot?’
‘Oh,yourememberwhatIsaid.Me—Iwouldnotwashout—whataterm,monDieu!—anybodyatthisstage.’
‘Haveityourownway.Now,thepassengers.Let’sstartuptheendbythestewards’pantryandthetoilets.SeatNo.16.’Hejabbedapencilontheplan.‘That’sthehairdressinggirl,JaneGrey.GotaticketintheIrishSweep—blueditatLePinet.Thatmeansthegirl’sagambler.Shemighthavebeenhardupandborrowedfromtheolddame—doesn’tseemlikely,either,thatsheborrowedalargesum,orthatGisellecouldhavea“hold”overher.Seemsrathertoosmallafishforwhatwe’relookingfor.AndIdon’tthinkahairdresser’sassistanthadtheremotestchanceoflayingherhandsonsnakevenom.Theydon’tuseitasahairdyeorforfacemassage.
‘Inawayitwasratheramistaketousesnakevenom;itnarrowsthingsdownalot.Onlyabouttwopeopleinahundredwouldbelikelytohaveanyknowledgeofitandbeabletolayhandsonthestuff.’
‘Whichmakesonething,atleast,perfectlyclear,’saidPoirot.
ItwasFournierwhoshotaquickglanceofinquiryathim.
Jappwasbusywithhisownideas.
‘Ilookatitlikethis,’hesaid.‘Themurdererhasgottofallintooneoftwocategories:eitherhe’samanwho’sknockedabouttheworldinqueerplaces—amanwhoknowssomethingofsnakesandofthemoredeadlyvarietiesandofthehabitsofthenativetribeswhousethevenomtodisposeoftheirenemies—that’scategoryNo.1.’
‘Andtheother?’
‘Thescientificline.Research.Thisboomslangstuffisthekindofthingtheyexperimentwithinhigh-classlaboratories.IhadatalkwithWinterspoon.Apparentlysnakevenom—cobravenom,tobeexact—issometimesusedinmedicine.It’susedinthetreatmentofepilepsywithafairamountofsuccess.There’salotbeingdoneinthewayofscientificinvestigationintosnakebite.’
‘Interestingandsuggestive,’saidFournier.
‘Yes,butlet’sgoon.NeitherofthosecategoriesfittheGreygirl.Asfarasshe’sconcerned,motiveseemsunlikely,chancesofgettingthepoison—poor.Actualpossibilityofdoingtheblowpipeactverydoubtfulindeed—almostimpossible.Seehere.’
Thethreemenbentovertheplan.
‘Here’s16,’saidJapp.‘Andhere’s2,whereGisellewassittingwithalotofpeopleandseatsintervening.Ifthegirldidn’tmovefromherseat—andeverybodysaysshedidn’t—shecouldn’tpossiblyhaveaimedthethorntocatchGiselleonthesideoftheneck.Ithinkwecantakeitshe’sprettywelloutofit.
‘Nowthen,12,opposite.That’sthedentist,NormanGale.Verymuchthesameappliestohim.Smallfry.Isupposehe’dhaveaslightlybetterchanceofgettingholdofsnakevenom.’
‘Itisnotaninjectionusuallyfavouredbydentists,’murmuredPoirotgently.‘Itwouldbeacaseofkillratherthancure.’
‘Adentisthasenoughfunwithhispatientsasitis,’saidJapp,grinning.‘Still,Isupposehemightmoveincircleswhereyoucouldgetaccesstosomefunnybusinessindrugs.Hemighthaveascientificfriend.Butasregardspossibilityhe’sprettywelloutofit.Hedidleavehisseat,butonlytogotothetoilet—that’sintheoppositedirection.Onhiswaybacktohisseathecouldn’tbefartherthanthegangwayhere,andtoshootoffathornfromablowpipesoastocatchtheoldladyintheneckhe’dhavetohaveakindofpetthornthatwoulddotricksandmakearight-angleturn.Sohe’sprettywelloutofit.’
‘Iagree,’saidFournier.‘Letusproceed.’
‘We’llcrossthegangwaynow.17.’
‘Thatwasmyseatoriginally,’saidPoirot.‘Iyieldedittooneoftheladiessinceshedesiredtobenearherfriend.’
‘That’stheHonourableVenetia.Well,whatabouther?She’sabigbug.ShemighthaveborrowedfromGiselle.Doesn’tlookasthoughshehadanyguiltysecretsinherlife—butperhapsshepulledahorseinapoint-to-point,orwhatevertheycallit.We’llhavetopayalittleattentiontoher.Theposition’spossible.IfGisellehadgotherheadturnedalittlelookingoutofthewindowtheHon.Venetiacouldtakeasportingshot(ordoyoucallitasportingpuff?)diagonallyacrossdownthecar.Itwouldbeabitofafluke,though.Iratherthinkshe’dhavetostanduptodoit.She’sthesortofwomanwhogoesoutwiththegunsintheautumn.Idon’tknowwhethershootingwithagunisanyhelptoyouwithanativeblowpipe?Isupposeit’saquestionofeyejustthesame—eyeandpractice;andshe’sprobablygotfriends—men—who’vebeenbig-gamehuntinginoddpartsoftheglobe.Shemighthavegotholdofsomequeernativestuffthatway.Whatbalderdashitallsounds,though!Itdoesn’tmakesense.’
‘Itdoesindeedseemunlikely,’saidFournier.‘MademoiselleKerr—Isawherattheinquesttoday—’Heshookhishead.‘Onedoesnotreadilyconnectherwithmurder.’
‘Seat13,’saidJapp.‘LadyHorbury.She’sabitofadarkhorse.IknowsomethingaboutherI’lltellyoupresently.Ishouldn’tbesurprisedifshehadaguiltysecretortwo.’
‘Ihappentoknow,’saidFournier,‘thattheladyinquestionhasbeenlosingveryheavilyatthebaccarattableatLePinet.’
‘That’ssmartofyou.Yes,she’sthetypeofpigeontobemixedupwithGiselle.’
‘Iagreeabsolutely.’
‘Verywell,then—sofar,sogood.Buthowdidshedoit?Shedidn’tleaveherseateither,youremember.She’dhavehadtohavekneltupinherseatandleanedoverthetop—withtenpeoplelookingather.Oh,hell,let’sgeton.’
‘9and10,’saidFournier,movinghisfingerontheplan.
‘M.HerculePoirotandDrBryant,’saidJapp.‘WhathasM.Poirottosayforhimself?’
Poirotshookhisheadsadly.
‘Monestomac,’hesaidpathetically.‘Alas,thatthebrainshouldbetheservantofthestomach.’
‘I,too,’saidFournierwithsympathy.‘IntheairIdonotfeelwell.’
Heclosedhiseyesandshookhisheadexpressively.
‘Nowthen,DrBryant.WhataboutDrBryant?BigbuginHarleyStreet.NotverylikelytogotoaFrenchwomanmoneylender;butyouneverknow.Andifanyfunnybusinesscropsupwithadoctorhe’sdoneforlife!Here’swheremyscientifictheorycomesin.AmanlikeBryant,atthetopofthetree,isinwithallthemedicalresearchpeople.Hecouldpinchatest-tubeofsnakevenomaseasyaswinkingwhenhehappenstobeinsomeswelllaboratory.’
‘Theycheckthesethings,myfriend,’objectedPoirot.‘Itwouldnotbejustlikepluckingabuttercupinameadow.’
‘Eveniftheydocheck’em,aclevermancouldsubstitutesomethingharmless.Itcouldbedone,simplybecauseamanlikeBryantwouldbeabovesuspicion.’
‘Thereismuchinwhatyousay,’agreedFournier.
‘Theonlythingis,whydidhedrawattentiontothething?Whynotsaythewomandiedfromheartfailure—naturaldeath?’
Poirotcoughed.Theothertwolookedathiminquiringly.
‘Ifancy,’hesaid,‘thatthatwasthedoctor’sfirst—well,shallwesayimpression?Afterall,itlookedverylikenaturaldeath,possiblyastheresultofawaspsting;therewasawasp,remember—’
‘Notlikelytoforgetthatwasp,’putinJapp.‘You’realwaysharpingonit.’
‘However,’continuedPoirot,‘Ihappenedtonoticethefatalthornonthegroundandpickeditup.Oncewehadfoundthat,everythingpointedtomurder.’
‘Thethornwouldbeboundtobefoundanyway.’
Poirotshookhishead.
‘Thereisjustachancethatthemurderermighthavebeenabletopickitupunobserved.’
‘Bryant?’
‘Bryantoranother.’
‘H’m—ratherrisky.’
Fournierdisagreed.
‘Youthinksonow,’hesaid,‘becauseyouknowthatitismurder.Butwhenaladydiessuddenlyofheartfailure,ifamanistodrophishandkerchiefandstooptopickitup,whowillnoticetheactionorthinktwiceaboutit?’
‘That’strue,’agreedJapp.‘Well,IfancyBryantisdefinitelyonthelistofsuspects.Hecouldleanhisheadroundthecornerofhisseatanddotheblowpipeact—againdiagonallyacrossthecar.Butwhynobodysawhim—!However,Iwon’tgointothatagain.Whoeverdiditwasn’tseen!’
‘Andforthat,Ifancy,theremustbeareason,’saidFournier.‘Areasonthat,byallIhaveheard,’hesmiled,‘willappealtoM.Poirot.Imeanapsychologicalreason.’
‘Continue,myfriend,’saidPoirot.‘Itisinterestingwhatyousaythere.’
‘Supposing,’saidFournier,‘thatwhentravellinginatrainyouweretopassahouseinflames.Everyone’seyeswouldatoncebedrawntothewindow.Everyonewouldhavetheirattentionfixedonacertainpoint.Amaninsuchamomentmightwhipoutadaggerandstabaman,andnobodywouldseehimdoit.’
‘Thatistrue,’saidPoirot.‘IrememberacaseinwhichIwasconcerned—acaseofpoison,wherethatverypointarose.Therewas,asyoucallit,apsychologicalmoment.IfwediscoverthattherewassuchamomentduringthejourneyofthePrometheus—’
‘Weoughttofindthatoutbyquestioningthestewardsandthepassengers,’saidJapp.
‘True.Butiftherewassuchapsychologicalmoment,itmustfollowlogicallythatthecauseofthatmomentmusthaveoriginatedwiththemurderer.Hemusthavebeenabletoproducetheparticulareffectthatcausedthatmoment.’
‘Perfectly,perfectly,’saidtheFrenchman.
‘Well,we’llnotedownthatasapointforquestions,’saidJapp.‘I’mcomingnowtoseatNo.8—DanielMichaelClancy.’
Jappspokethenamewithacertainamountofrelish.
‘Inmyopinionhe’sthemostlikelysuspectwe’vegot.What’seasierthanforamysteryauthortofakeupaninterestinsnakevenomandgetsomeunsuspectingscientificchemisttolethimhandlethestuff?Don’tforgethewentdownpastGiselle’sseat—theonlyoneofthepassengerswhodid.’
‘Iassureyou,myfriend,’saidPoirot,‘thatIhavenotforgottenthatpoint.’
Hespokewithemphasis.
Jappwenton:
‘Hecouldhaveusedthatblowpipefromfairlyclosequarterswithoutanyneedofa“psychologicalmoment”,asyoucallit.Andhestoodquitearespectablechanceofgettingawaywithit.Remember,heknowsallaboutblowpipes—hesaidso.’
‘Whichmakesonepause,perhaps.’
‘Sheerartfulness,’saidJapp.‘Andastothisblowpipeheproducedtoday,whoistosaythatit’stheoneheboughttwoyearsago?Thewholethinglooksveryfishytome.Idon’tthinkit’shealthyforamantobealwaysbroodingovercrimeanddetectivestories,readingupallsortsofcases.Itputsideasintohishead.’
‘Itiscertainlynecessaryforawritertohaveideasinhishead,’agreedPoirot.
Jappreturnedtohisplanoftheplane.
‘No.4wasRyder—theseatslapinfrontofthedeadwoman.Don’tthinkhedidit.Butwecan’tleavehimout.Hewenttothetoilet.Hecouldhavetakenapotshotonthewaybackfromfairlyclosequarters;theonlythingishe’dberightupagainstthearchaeologistfellowswhenhedidso.They’dnoticeit—couldn’thelpit.’
Poirotshookhisheadthoughtfully.
‘Youarenot,perhaps,acquaintedwithmanyarchaeologists?Ifthesetwowerehavingareallyabsorbingdiscussiononsomepointatissue—ehbien,myfriend,theirconcentrationwouldbesuchthattheywouldbequiteblindanddeaftotheoutsideworld.Theywouldbeexisting,yousee,infivethousandorsoBC.Nineteenhundredandthirty-fiveADwouldhavebeennon-existentforthem.’
Japplookedalittlesceptical.
‘Well,we’llpassontothem.WhatcanyoutellusabouttheDuponts,Fournier?’
‘M.ArmandDupontisoneofthemostdistinguishedarchaeologistsinFrance.’
‘Thenthatdoesn’tgetusanywheremuch.Theirpositioninthecarisprettygoodfrommypointofview—acrossthegangwaybutslightlyfartherforwardthanGiselle.AndIsupposethatthey’veknockedabouttheworldanddugthingsupinalotofqueerplaces;theymighteasilyhavegotholdofsomenativesnakepoison.’
‘Itispossible,yes,’saidFournier.
‘Butyoudon’tbelieveit’slikely?’
Fourniershookhisheaddoubtfully.
‘M.Dupontlivesforhisprofession.Heisanenthusiast.Hewasformerlyanantiquedealer.Hegaveupaflourishingbusinesstodevotehimselftoexcavation.Bothheandhissonaredevotedheartandsoultotheirprofession.Itseemstomeunlikely—Iwillnotsayimpossible,sincetheramificationsoftheStaviskybusinessIwillbelieveanything—unlikelythattheyaremixedupinthisbusiness.’
‘Allright,’saidJapp.
Hepickedupthesheetofpaperonwhichhehadbeenmakingnotesandclearedhisthroat.
‘Thisiswherewestand.JaneGrey.Probability—poor.Possibility—practicallynil.Gale.Probability—poor.Possibility—againpracticallynil.MissKerr.Veryimprobable.Possibility—doubtful.LadyHorbury.Probability—good.Possibility—practicallynil.M.Poirot—almostcertainlythecriminal;theonlymanonboardwhocouldcreateapsychologicalmoment.’
Jappenjoyedagoodlaughoverhislittlejoke,andPoirotsmiledindulgentlyandFournieratriflediffidently.Thenthedetectiveresumed:
‘Bryant.Probabilityandpossibility—bothgood.Clancy.Motivedoubtful—probabilityandpossibilityverygoodindeed.Ryder.Probabilityuncertain—possibilityquitefair.ThetwoDuponts.Probabilitypoorasregardsmotive—goodastomeansofobtainingpoison.Possibility—good.
‘That’saprettyfairsummary,Ithink,asfaraswecango.We’llhavetodoalotofroutineinquiry.IshalltakeonClancyandBryantfirst—findoutwhatthey’vebeenupto—ifthey’vebeenhardupatanytimeinthepast—ifthey’veseemedworriedorupsetlately—theirmovementsinthelastyear—allthatsortofstuff.I’lldothesameforRyder.Thenitwon’tdotoneglecttheothersentirely.I’llgetWilsontonoseroundthere.M.FournierherewillundertaketheDuponts.’
ThemanfromtheS?reténodded.
‘Bewellassured—thatwillbeattendedto.IshallreturntoParistonight.TheremaybesomethingtobegotoutofElise,Giselle’smaid,nowthatweknowalittlemoreaboutthecase.Also,IwillcheckupGiselle’smovementsverycarefully.Itwillbewelltoknowwhereshehasbeenduringthesummer.Shewas,Iknow,atLePinetonceortwice.WemaygetinformationastohercontactswithsomeoftheEnglishpeopleinvolved.Ah,yes,thereismuchtodo.’
TheybothlookedatPoirot,whowasabsorbedinthought.
‘Yougoingtotakeahandatall,M.Poirot?’askedJapp.
Poirotrousedhimself.
‘Yes,IthinkIshouldliketoaccompanyM.FourniertoParis.’
‘Enchanté,’saidtheFrenchman.
‘Whatareyouupto,Iwonder?’saidJapp.HelookedatPoirotcuriously.‘You’vebeenveryquietoverallthis.Gotsomeofyourlittleideas,eh?’
‘Oneortwo,oneortwo;butitisverydifficult.’
‘Let’shearaboutit.’
‘Onethingthatworriesme,’saidPoirotslowly,‘istheplacewheretheblowpipewasfound.’
‘Naturally!Itnearlygotyoulockedup.’
Poirotshookhishead.
‘Idonotmeanthat.Itisnotbecauseitwasfoundpusheddownbesidemyseatthatitworriesme—itwasitsbeingpusheddownbehindanyseat.’
‘Idon’tseeanythinginthat,’saidJapp.‘Whoeverdidithadgottohidethethingsomewhere.Hecouldn’triskitsbeingfoundonhim.’
‘Evidemment.Butyoumayhavenoticed,myfriend,whenyouexaminedtheplane,thatalthoughthewindowscannotbeopened,thereisineachofthemaventilator—acircleofsmallroundholesintheglasswhichcanbeopenedorclosedbyturningafanofglass.Thoseholesareofasufficientcircumferencetoadmitofthepassageofourblowpipe.Whatcouldbesimplerthantogetridoftheblowpipethatway?Itfallstotheearthbeneath,anditisextremelyunlikelythatitwilleverbefound.’
‘Icanthinkofanobjectiontothat—themurdererwasafraidofbeingseen.Ifhepushedtheblowpipethroughtheventilatorsomeonemighthavenoticed.’
‘Isee,’saidPoirot.‘Hewasnotafraidofbeingseenplacingtheblowpipetohislipsanddispatchingthefataldart,buthewasafraidofbeingseentryingtopushtheblowpipethroughthewindow!’
‘Soundsabsurd,Iadmit,’saidJapp;‘butthereitis.Hedidhidetheblowpipebehindthecushionofaseat.Wecan’tgetawayfromthat.’
Poirotdidnotanswer,andFournieraskedcuriously:
‘Itgivesyouanidea,that?’
Poirotbowedhisheadassentingly.
‘Itgivesriseto,say,aspeculationinmymind.’
Withabsent-mindedfingershestraightenedtheunusedinkstandthatJapp’simpatienthandhadsetalittleaskew.
Thenliftinghisheadsharply,heasked:
‘Apropos,haveyouthatdetailedlistofthebelongingsofthepassengersthatIaskedyoutogetme?’
Chapter8
TheList
‘I’mamanofmyword,Iam,’saidJapp.
Hegrinnedanddivedhishandintohispocket,bringingoutamassofclosely-typewrittenpaper.
‘Hereyouare.It’sallhere—downtotheminutestdetail!AndI’lladmitthatthereisonerathercuriousthinginit.I’lltalktoyouaboutitwhenyou’vefinishedreadingthestuff.’
Poirotspreadoutthesheetsonthetableandbegantoread.Fourniermovedupandreadthemoverhisshoulder:
JamesRyder.Pockets.—LinenhandkerchiefmarkedJ.Pigskinnotecase—seven￡1notes,threebusinesscards.LetterfrompartnerGeorgeEbermannhoping‘loanhasbeensuccessfullynegotiated…otherwisewe’reinQueerStreet’.LettersignedMaudiemakingappointmentTrocaderofollowingevening(cheappaper,illiteratehandwriting).Silvercigarette-case.Match-folder.Fountain-pen.Bunchofkeys.Yaledoorkey.LoosechangeinFrenchandEnglishmoney.AttachéCase.—Massofpapersconcerningdealingsincement.CopyofBootlessCup(bannedinthiscountry).Aboxof‘ImmediateColdCures’.DrBryant.Pockets.—Twolinenhandkerchiefs.Notecasecontaining￡20and500francs.LoosechangeinFrenchandEnglishmoney.Engagementbook.Cigarette-case.Lighter.Fountain-pen.Yaledoorkey.Bunchofkeys.Fluteincase.CarryingMemoirsofBenvenutoCelliniandLesMauxdel’Oreille.NormanGale.Pockets.—Silkhandkerchief.Walletcontaining￡1inEnglishand600francs.Loosechange.BusinesscardsoftwoFrenchfirms—makersofdentalinstruments.Bryant&Maymatchbox—empty.Silverlighter.Briarpipe.Rubbertobaccopouch.Yaledoorkey.AttachéCase.—Whitelinencoat.Twosmalldentalmirrors.Dentalrollsofcottonwool.LaVieParisienne.TheStrandMagazine.TheAutocarArmandDupont.Pockets.—Walletcontaining1000francsand￡10inEnglish.Spectaclesincase.LoosechangeinFrenchmoney.Cottonhandkerchief.Packetofcigarettes,match-folder.Cardsincase.Toothpick.AttachéCase.—ManuscriptofproposedaddresstoRoyalAsiaticSociety.TwoGermanarchaeologicalpublications.Twosheetsofroughsketchesofpottery.Ornamentedhollowtubes(saidtobeKurdishpipestems).Smallbasket-worktray.Nineunmountedphotographs—allofpottery.JeanDupont.Pockets.—Notecasecontaining￡5inEnglishand300francs.Cigarette-case.Cigarette-holder(ivory).Lighter.Fountain-pen.Twopencils.Smallnotebookfullofscribblednotes.LetterinEnglishfromL.MarrinergivinginvitationtolunchatrestaurantnearTottenhamCourtRoad.LoosechangeinFrenchDanielClancy.Pockets.—Handkerchief(ink-stained).Fountain-pen(leaking).Notecasecontaining￡4and100francs.Threenewspapercuttingsdealingwithrecentcrimes(onepoisoningbyarsenicandtwoembezzlement).Twolettersfromhouseagentswithdetailsofcountryproperties.Engagementbook.Fourpencils.Pen-knife.Threereceiptedandfourunpaidbills.Letterfrom‘Gordon’headedS.S.Minotaur.Half-donecrosswordpuzzlecutfromTimes.Notebookcontainingsuggestionsforplots.LoosechangeinItalian,French,SwissandEnglishmoney.Receiptedhotelbill,Naples.Largebunchofkeys.Inovercoatpocket.—ManuscriptnotesofMurderonVesuvius.ContinentalBradshaw.Golfball.Pairofsocks.Toothbrush.Receiptedhotelbill,Paris.MissKerr.Vanitybag.—Lipstick.Twocigarette-holders(oneivoryandonejade).Flapjack.Cigarette-case.Match-folder.Handkerchief.￡2English.Loosechange.Onehalfletterofcredit.Keys.Dressing-case.—Shagreenfitted.Bottles,brushes,combs,etc.Manicureoutfit.Washingbagcontainingtoothbrush,sponge,toothpowder,soap.Twopairsofscissors.FivelettersfromfamilyandfriendsinEngland.TwoTauchnitznovels.Photographoftwospaniels.CarriedVogueandGoodHousekeepingMissGrey.Handbag.—Lipstick,rouge,flapjack.Yalekeyandonetrunkkey.Pencil.Cigarette-case.Holder.Match-folder.Twohandkerchiefs.Receiptedhotelbill,LePinet.Smallbook,FrenchPhrases.Notecase,100francsand10s.LooseFrenchandEnglishchange.OneCasinocountervalue5francs.Inpocketoftravellingcoat.—SixpostcardsofParis,twohandkerchiefsandsilkscarf.Lettersigned‘Gladys’.Tubeofaspirin.LadyHorbury.Vanitybag.—Twolipsticks,rouge,flapjack.Handkerchief.Threemillenotes.￡6English.Loosechange(French).Adiamondring.FiveFrenchstamps.Twocigarette-holders.Lighterwithcase.Dressing-case.—Completemakeupoutfit.Elaboratemanicureset(gold).Smallbottlelabelled(inink)BoracicPowder.
AsPoirotcametotheendofthelist,Japplaidhisfingeronthelastitem.
‘Rathersmartofourman.Hethoughtthatdidn’tseemquiteinkeepingwiththerest.Boracicpowdermyeye!Thewhitepowderinthatbottlewascocaine.’
Poirot’seyesopenedalittle.Henoddedhisheadslowly.
‘Nothingmuchtodowithourcase,perhaps,’saidJapp.‘Butyoudon’tneedmetotellyouthatawomanwho’sgotthecocainehabithasn’tgotmuchmoralrestraint.I’veanideaanywaythatherladyshipwouldn’tstickatmuchtogetwhatshewanted,inspiteofallthathelplessfemininebusiness.Allthesame,Idoubtifshe’dhavethenervetocarryathinglikethisthrough;and,frankly,Ican’tseethatitwaspossibleforhertodoit.Thewholethingisabitofateaser.’
Poirotgathereduptheloosetypewrittensheetsandreadthemthroughonceagain.Thenhelaidthemdownwithasigh.
‘Onthefaceofit,’hesaid,‘itseemstopointveryplainlytoonepersonashavingcommittedthecrime.Andyet,Icannotseewhy,orevenhow.’
Jappstaredathim.
‘Areyoupretendingthatbyreadingallthisstuffyou’vegotanideawhodidit?’
‘Ithinkso.’
Jappseizedthepapersfromhimandreadthemthrough,handingeachsheetovertoFournierashehadfinishedwithit.ThenheslappedthemdownonthetableandstaredatPoirot.
‘Areyoupullingmyleg,MoosiorPoirot?’
‘No,no.Quelleidée!’
TheFrenchmaninhisturnlaiddownthesheets.
‘Whataboutyou,Fournier?’
TheFrenchmanshookhishead.‘Imaybestupid,’hesaid,‘butIcannotseethatthislistadvancesusmuch.’
‘Notbyitself,’saidPoirot.‘Buttakeninconjunctionwithcertainfeaturesofthecase,no?Well,itmaybethatIamwrong—quitewrong.’
‘Well,comeoutwithyourtheory,’saidJapp.‘I’llbeinterestedtohearitatallevents.’
Poirotshookhishead.
‘No,asyousayitisatheory—atheoryonly.Ihopedtofindacertainobjectonthatlist.Ehbien,Ihavefoundit.Itisthere;butitseemstopointinthewrongdirection.Therightclueonthewrongperson.Thatmeansthereismuchworktobedone,andtrulythereismuchthatisstillobscuretome.Icannotseemyway;onlycertainfactsseemtostandout,toarrangethemselvesinasignificantpattern.Youdonotfinditso?No,Iseeyoudonot.Letustheneachworktohisownidea.Ihavenocertainty,Itellyou,onlyacertainsuspicion…’
‘Ibelieveyou’rejusttalkingthroughyourhat,’saidJapp.Herose.‘Well,let’scallitaday.IworktheLondonend,youreturntoParis,Fournier—andwhataboutourM.Poirot?’
‘IstillwishtoaccompanyM.FourniertoParis—morethanevernow.’
‘Morethanever—?I’dliketoknowjustwhatkindofmaggotyou’vegotinyourbrain.’
‘Maggot?Cen’estpasjoli,c?a!’
Fourniershookhandsceremoniously.
‘Iwishyougoodevening,withmanythanksforyourdelightfulhospitality.WewillmeetthenatCroydontomorrowmorning?’
‘Exactly.Ademain.’
‘Letushope,’saidFournier,‘thatnobodywillmurderusenroute.’
Thetwodetectivesdeparted.
Poirotremainedforatimeasinadream.Thenherose,clearedawayanytracesofdisorder,emptiedtheashtraysandstraightenedthechairs.
HewenttoasidetableandpickedupacopyoftheSketch.Heturnedthepagesuntilhecametotheonehesought.
‘TwoSunWorshippers,’itwasheaded.‘TheCountessofHorburyandMrRaymondBarracloughatLePinet.’Helookedatthetwolaughingfiguresinbathing-dresses,theirarmsentwined.
‘Iwonder,’saidHerculePoirot.‘Onemightdosomethingalongthoselines…Yes,onemight.’
Chapter9
EliseGrandier
TheweatheronthefollowingdaywasofsoperfectanaturethatevenHerculePoirothadtoadmitthathisestomacwasperfectlypeaceful.
Onthisoccasiontheyweretravellingbythe8.45AirServicetoParis.
ThereweresevenoreighttravellersbesidePoirotandFournierinthecompartment,andtheFrenchmanutilizedthejourneytomakesomeexperiments.Hetookfromhispocketasmallpieceofbambooandthreetimesduringthejourneyheraisedthistohislips,pointingitinacertaindirection.Oncehediditbendinghimselfroundthecornerofhisseat,oncewithhisheadslightlyturnedsideways,oncewhenhewasreturningfromthetoiletcompartment;andoneachoccasionhecaughttheeyeofsomepassengerorothereyeinghimwithmildastonishment.Onthelastoccasion,indeed,everyeyeinthecarseemedtobefixeduponhim.
Fourniersankinhisseatdiscouraged,andwasbutlittlecheeredbyobservingPoirot’sopenamusement.
‘Youareamused,myfriend?Butyouagreeonemusttryexperiments?’
‘Evidemment!IntruthIadmireyourthoroughness.Thereisnothinglikeoculardemonstration.Youplaythepartofthemurdererwithblowpipe.Theresultisperfectlyclear.Everybodyseesyou!’
‘Noteverybody.’
‘Inasense,no.Oneachoccasionthereissomebodywhodoesnotseeyou;butforasuccessfulmurderthatisnotenough.Youmustbereasonablysurethatnobodywillseeyou.’
‘Andthatisimpossiblegivenordinaryconditions,’saidFournier.‘Iholdthentomytheorythattheremusthavebeenextraordinaryconditions—thepsychologicalmoment!Theremusthavebeenapsychologicalmomentwheneveryone’sattentionwasmathematicallycentredelsewhere.’
‘OurfriendInspectorJappisgoingtomakeminuteinquiriesonthatpoint.’
‘Doyounotagreewithme,M.Poirot?’
Poirothesitatedaminute,thenhesaidslowly:
‘Iagreethattherewas—thattheremusthavebeenapsychologicalreasonwhynobodysawthemurderer…Butmyideasarerunninginaslightlydifferentchannelfromyours.Ifeelthatinthiscasemereocularfactsmaybedeceptive.Closeyoureyes,myfriend,insteadofopeningthemwide.Usetheeyesofthebrain,notofthebody.Letthelittlegreycellsofthemindfunction…Letitbetheirtasktoshowyouwhatactuallyhappened.’
Fournierstaredathimcuriously.
‘Idonotfollowyou,M.Poirot.’
‘Becauseyouarededucingfromthingsthatyouhaveseen.Nothingcanbesomisleadingasobservation.’
Fourniershookhisheadagainandspreadouthishands.‘Igiveup.Icannotcatchyourmeaning.’
‘OurfriendGiraudwouldurgeyoutopaynoattentiontomyvagaries.“Beupanddoing,”hewouldsay.“Tositstillinanarmchairandthink,thatisthemethodofanoldmanpasthisprime.”ButIsaythatayounghoundisoftensoeageruponthescentthatheoverrunsit…Forhimisthetrailoftheredherring.There,itisaverygoodhintIhavegivenyouthere…’
And,leaningback,Poirotclosedhiseyes,itmayhavebeentothink,butitisquitecertainthatfiveminuteslaterhewasfastasleep.
OnarrivalinParistheywentstraighttoNo.3RueJoliette.
TheRueJolietteisonthesouthsideoftheSeine.TherewasnothingtodistinguishNo.3fromtheotherhouses.AnagedconciergeadmittedthemandgreetedFournierinasurlyfashion.
‘Sowehavethepolicehereagain!Nothingbuttrouble.Thiswillgivethehouseabadname.’
Heretreatedgrumblingintohisapartment.
‘WewillgotoGiselle’soffice,’saidFournier.‘Itisonthefirstfloor.’
HedrewakeyfromhispocketashespokeandexplainedthattheFrenchpolicehadtakentheprecautionoflockingandsealingthedoorwhilstawaitingtheresultoftheEnglishinquest.
‘Not,Ifear,’saidFournier,‘thatthereisanythingheretohelpus.’
Hedetachedtheseals,unlockedthedoor,andtheyentered.MadameGiselle’sofficewasasmall,stuffyapartment.Ithadasomewhatold-fashionedtypeofsafeinacorner,awritingdeskofbusiness-likeappearanceandseveralshabbilyupholsteredchairs.Theonewindowwasdirtyanditseemedhighlyprobablethatithadneverbeenopened.
Fourniershruggedhisshouldersashelookedround.
‘Yousee?’hesaid.‘Nothing.Nothingatall.’
Poirotpassedroundbehindthedesk.HesatdowninthechairandlookedacrossthedeskatFournier.Hepassedhishandgentlyacrossthesurfaceofthewood,thendownunderneathit.
‘Thereisabellhere,’hesaid.
‘Yes,itringsdowntotheconcierge.’
‘Ah,awiseprecaution.Madame’sclientsmightsometimesbecomeobstreperous.’
Heopenedoneortwoofthedrawers.Theycontainedstationery,acalendar,pensandpencils,butnopapersandnothingofapersonalnature.
Poirotmerelyglancedintotheminacursorymanner.
‘Iwillnotinsultyou,myfriend,byaclosesearch.Iftherewereanythingtofindyouwouldhavefoundit,Iamsure.’Helookedacrossatthesafe.‘Notaveryefficaciouspattern,that?’
‘Somewhatoutofdate,’agreedFournier.
‘Itwasempty?’
‘Yes.Thatcursedmaidhaddestroyedeverything.’
‘Ah,yes,themaid.Theconfidentialmaid.Wemustseeher.Thisroom,asyousay,hasnothingtotellus.Itissignificantthat,doyounotthinkso?’
‘Whatdoyoumeanbysignificant,M.Poirot?’
‘Imeanthatthereisinthisroomnopersonaltouch…Ifindthatinteresting.’
‘Shewashardlyawomanofsentiment,’saidFournierdryly.
Poirotrose.
‘Come,’hesaid,‘letusseethismaid—thishighlyconfidentialmaid.’
EliseGrandierwasashortstoutwomanofmiddleagewithafloridfaceandsmallshrewdeyesthatdartedquicklyfromFournier’sfacetothatofhiscompanionandthenbackagain.
‘Sitdown,MademoiselleGrandier,’saidFournier.
‘Thankyou,Monsieur.’
Shesatdowncomposedly.
‘M.PoirotandIhavereturnedtodayfromLondon.Theinquest—theinquiry,thatis,intothedeathofMadame—tookplaceyesterday.Thereisnodoubtwhatsoever.Madamewaspoisoned.’
TheFrenchwomanshookherheadgravely.
‘Itisterriblewhatyousaythere,Monsieur.Madamepoisoned?Whowouldeverhavedreamtofsuchathing?’
‘Thatisperhapswhereyoucanhelpus,Mademoiselle.’
‘Certainly,Monsieur,IwillnaturallydoallIcantoaidthepolice.ButIknownothing—nothingatall.’
‘YouknowthatMadamehadenemies?’saidFourniersharply.
‘Thatisnottrue.WhyshouldMadamehaveenemies?’
‘Come,come,MademoiselleGrandier,’saidFournierdryly.‘Theprofessionofamoneylender—itentailscertainunpleasantnesses.’
‘ItistruethatsometimestheclientsofMadamewerenotveryreasonable,’agreedElise.
‘Theymadescenes,eh?Theythreatenedher?’
Themaidshookherhead.
‘No,no,youarewrongthere.Itwasnottheywhothreatened.Theywhined—theycomplained—theyprotestedtheycouldnotpay—allthat,yes.’Hervoiceheldaverylivelycontempt.
‘Sometimes,perhaps,Mademoiselle,’saidPoirot,‘theycouldnotpay.’
EliseGrandiershruggedhershoulders.
‘Possibly.Thatistheiraffair!Theyusuallypaidintheend.’
Hertoneheldacertainamountofsatisfaction.
‘MadameGisellewasahardwoman,’saidFournier.
‘Madamewasjustified.’
‘Youhavenopityforthevictims?’
‘Victims—victims…’Elisespokewithimpatience.‘Youdonotunderstand.Isitnecessarytorunintodebt,tolivebeyondyourmeans,torunandborrow,andthenexpecttokeepthemoneyasagift?Itisnotreasonable,that!Madamewasalwaysfairandjust.Shelent—andsheexpectedrepayment.Thatisonlyfair.Sheherselfhadnodebts.Alwaysshepaidhonourablywhatsheowed.Never,neverwerethereanybillsoutstanding.AndwhenyousaythatMadamewasahardwomanitisnotthetruth!Madamewaskind.ShegavetotheLittleSistersofthePoorwhentheycame.Shegavemoneytocharitableinstitutions.WhenthewifeofGeorges,theconcierge,wasill,Madamepaidforhertogotoahospitalinthecountry.’
Shestopped,herfaceflushedandangry
Sherepeated,‘Youdonotunderstand.No,youdonotunderstandMadameatall.’
Fournierwaitedamomentforherindignationtosubsideandthensaid:
‘YoumadetheobservationthatMadame’sclientsusuallymanagedtopayintheend.WereyouawareofthemeansMadameusedtocompelthem?’
Sheshruggedhershoulders.
‘Iknownothing,Monsieur—nothingatall.’
‘YouknewenoughtoburnMadame’spapers.’
‘Iwasfollowingherinstructions.Ifever,shesaid,sheweretomeetwithanaccident,orifsheweretakenillanddiedsomewhereawayfromhome,Iwastodestroyherbusinesspapers.’
‘Thepapersinthesafedownstairs?’askedPoirot.
‘Thatisright.Herbusinesspapers.’
‘Andtheywereinthesafedownstairs?’
HispersistencebroughttheredupinElise’scheeks.
‘IobeyedMadame’sinstructions,’shesaid.
‘Iknowthat,’saidPoirot,smiling.‘Butthepaperswerenotinthesafe.Thatisso,isitnot?Thatsafe,itisfartooold-fashioned—quiteanamateurmighthaveopenedit.Thepaperswerekeptelsewhere—inMadame’sbedroom,perhaps?’
Elisepausedamomentandthenanswered:
‘Yes,thatisso.Madamealwayspretendedtoclientsthatpaperswerekeptinthesafe,butinrealitythesafewasablind.EverythingwasinMadame’sbedroom.’
‘Willyoushowuswhere?’
Eliseroseandthetwomenfollowedher.Thebedroomwasafair-sizedroom,butwassofullofornateheavyfurniturethatitwashardtomoveaboutfreelyinit.Inonecornerwasalargeold-fashionedtrunk.Eliseliftedthelidandtookoutanold-fashionedalpacadresswithasilkunderskirt.Ontheinsideofthedresswasadeeppocket.
‘Thepaperswereinthis,Monsieur,’shesaid.‘Theywerekeptinalargesealedenvelope.’
‘Youtoldmenothingofthis,’saidFourniersharply,‘whenIquestionedyouthreedaysago.’
‘Iaskpardon,Monsieur.Youaskedmewherewerethepapersthatshouldbeinthesafe.ItoldyouIhadburnedthem.Thatwastrue.Exactlywherethepaperswerekeptseemedunimportant.’
‘True,’saidFournier.‘Youunderstand,MademoiselleGrandier,thatthosepapersshouldnothavebeenburnt.’
‘IobeyedMadame’sorders,’saidElisesullenly.
‘Youacted,Iknow,forthebest,’saidFourniersoothingly.‘NowIwantyoutolistentomeveryclosely,Mademoiselle:Madamewasmurdered.Itispossiblethatshewasmurderedbyapersonorpersonsaboutwhomsheheldcertaindamagingknowledge.Thatknowledgewasinthosepapersyouburnt.Iamgoingtoaskyouaquestion,Mademoiselle,anddonotreplytooquicklywithoutreflection.Itispossible—indeedinmyviewitisprobableandquiteunderstandable—thatyouglancedthroughthosepapersbeforecommittingthemtotheflames.Ifthatisthecase,noblamewillbeattachedtoyouforsodoing.Onthecontrary,anyinformationyouhaveacquiredmaybeofthegreatestservicetothepolice,andmaybeofmaterialserviceinbringingthemurderertojustice.Therefore,Mademoiselle,havenofearinansweringtruthfully.Didyou,beforeburningthepapers,glanceoverthem?’
Elisebreathedhard.Sheleantforwardandspokeemphatically.
‘No,Monsieur,’shesaid.‘Ilookedatnothing.Ireadnothing.Iburnttheenvelopewithoutundoingtheseal.’
Chapter10
TheLittleBlackBook
Fournierstaredhardatherforamomentortwo,then,satisfiedthatshewasspeakingthetruth,heturnedawaywithagestureofdiscouragement.
‘Itisapity,’hesaid.‘Youactedhonourably,Mademoiselle,butitisapity.’
‘Icannothelp,Monsieur.Iamsorry.’
Fourniersatdownanddrewanotebookfromhispocket.
‘WhenIquestionedyoubefore,youtoldme,Mademoiselle,thatyoudidnotknowthenamesofMadame’sclients.Yetjustnowyouspeakofthemwhiningandaskingformercy.Youdid,therefore,knowsomethingabouttheseclientsofMadameGiselle’s?’
‘Letmeexplain,Monsieur.Madamenevermentionedaname.Sheneverdiscussedherbusiness.Butallthesameoneishuman,isonenot?Thereareejaculations—comments.Madamespoketomesometimesasshewouldtoherself.’
Poirotleanedforward.
‘Ifyouwouldgiveusaninstance,Mademoiselle—’hesaid.
‘Letmesee—ah,yes—sayalettercomes.Madameopensit.Shelaughsashort,drylaugh.Shesays,“Youwhineandyousnivel,myfinelady.Allthesame,youmustpay.”Orshewouldsaytome,“Whatfools!Whatfools!TothinkIwouldlendlargesumswithoutpropersecurity.Knowledgeissecurity,Elise.Knowledgeispower.”Somethinglikethatshewouldsay.’
‘Madame’sclientswhocametothehouse,didyoueverseeanyofthem?’
‘No,Monsieur—atleasthardlyever.Theycametothefirstflooronly,youunderstand,andveryoftentheycameafterdark.’
‘HadMadameGisellebeeninParisbeforeherjourneytoEngland?’
‘ShereturnedtoParisonlytheafternoonbefore.’
‘Wherehadshebeen?’
‘ShehadbeenawayforafortnighttoDeauville,LePinet,Paris-PlageandWimereux—herusualSeptemberround.’
‘Nowthink,Mademoiselle,didshesayanything—anythingatallthatmightbeofuse?’
Eliseconsideredforsomemoments.Thensheshookherhead.
‘No,Monsieur,’shesaid.‘Icannotrememberanything.Madamewasingoodspirits.Businesswasgoingwell,shesaid.Hertourhadbeenprofitable.ThenshedirectedmetoringupUniversalAirlinesandbookapassagetoEnglandforthefollowingday.Theearlymorningservicewasbooked,butsheobtainedaseatonthe12o’clockservice.’
‘DidshesaywhattookhertoEngland?Wasthereanyurgencyaboutit?’
‘Oh,no,Monsieur.MadamejourneyedtoEnglandfairlyfrequently.Sheusuallytoldmethedaybefore.’
‘DidanyclientscometoseeMadamethatevening?’
‘Ibelievetherewasoneclient,Monsieur,butIamnotsure.Georges,perhaps,wouldknow.Madamesaidnothingtome.’
Fourniertookfromhispocketsvariousphotographs—mostlysnapshotstakenbyreporters,ofvariouswitnessesleavingthecoroner’scourt.
‘Canyourecognizeanyofthese,Mademoiselle?’
Elisetookthemandgazedateachinturn.Thensheshookherhead.
‘No,Monsieur.’
‘WemusttryGeorgesthen.’
‘Yes,Monsieur.Unfortunately,Georgeshasnotverygoodeyesight.Itisapity.’
Fournierrose.
‘Well,Mademoiselle,wewilltakeourleave—thatis,ifyouarequitesurethatthereisnothing—nothingatall—thatyouhaveomittedtomention.’
‘I?What—whatcouldtherebe?’
Eliselookeddistressed.
‘Itisunderstood,then.Come,M.Poirot.Ibegyourpardon.Youarelookingforsomething?’
Poirotwasindeedwanderingroundtheroominavaguesearchingway.
‘Itistrue,’saidPoirot.‘IamlookingforsomethingIdonotsee.’
‘Whatisthat?’
‘Photographs.PhotographsofMadameGiselle’srelations—ofherfamily.’
Eliseshookherhead.
‘Shehadnofamily,Madame.Shewasaloneintheworld.’
‘Shehadadaughter,’saidPoirotsharply.
‘Yes,thatisso.Yes,shehadadaughter.’
Elisesighed.
‘Butthereisnopictureofthatdaughter?’Poirotpersisted.
‘Oh,Monsieurdoesnotunderstand.ItistruethatMadamehadadaughter,butthatwaslongago,youcomprehend.ItismybeliefthatMadamehadneverseenthatdaughtersinceshewasatinybaby.’
‘Howwasthat?’demandedFourniersharply.
Elise’shandsflewoutinanexpressivegesture.
‘Idonotknow.ItwasinthedayswhenMadamewasyoung.Ihaveheardthatshewasprettythen—prettyandpoor.Shemayhavebeenmarried;shemaynot.Myself,Ithinknot.Doubtlesssomearrangementwasmadeaboutthechild.AsforMadame,shehadthesmallpox—shewasveryill—shenearlydied.Whenshegotwellherbeautywasgone.Therewerenomorefollies,nomoreromance.Madamebecameawomanofbusiness.’
‘Butshelefthermoneytothisdaughter?’
‘Thatisonlyright,’saidElise.‘Whoshouldoneleaveone’smoneytoexceptone’sownfleshandblood?Bloodisthickerthanwater;andMadamehadnofriends.Shewasalwaysalone.Moneywasherpassion—tomakemoreandmoremoney.Shespentverylittle.Shehadnoloveforluxury.’
‘Sheleftyoualegacy.Youknowthat?’
‘Butyes,Ihavebeeninformed.Madamewasalwaysgenerous.Shegavemeagoodsumeveryyearaswellasmywages.IamverygratefultoMadame.’
‘Well,’saidFournier,‘wewilltakeourleave.OnthewayoutIwillhaveanotherwordwitholdGeorges.’
‘Permitmetofollowyouinalittleminute,myfriend,’saidPoirot.
‘Asyouwish.’
Fournierdeparted.
Poirotroamedoncemoreroundtheroom,thensatdownandfixedhiseyesonElise.
UnderhisscrutinytheFrenchwomangotslightlyrestive.
‘IsthereanythingmoreMonsieurrequirestoknow?’
‘MademoiselleGrandier,’saidPoirot,‘doyouknowwhomurderedyourmistress?’
‘No,Monsieur.BeforethegoodGodIswearit.’
Shespokeveryearnestly.Poirotlookedathersearchingly,thenbenthishead
‘Bien,’hesaid.‘Iacceptthat.Butknowledgeisonething,suspicionisanother.Haveyouanyidea—anideaonly—whomighthavedonesuchathing?’
‘Ihavenoidea,Monsieur.Ihavealreadysaidsototheagentofpolice.’
‘Youmightsayonethingtohimandanotherthingtome.’
‘Whydoyousaythat,Monsieur?WhyshouldIdosuchathing?’
‘Becauseitisonethingtogiveinformationtothepoliceandanotherthingtogiveittoaprivateindividual.’
‘Yes,’admittedElise.‘Thatistrue.’
Alookofindecisioncameoverherface.Sheseemedtobethinking.Watchingherveryclosely,Poirotleanedforwardandspoke:
‘ShallItellyousomething,MademoiselleGrandier?ItispartofmybusinesstobelievenothingIamtold—nothingthatis,thatisnotproved.Idonotsuspectfirstthispersonandthenthatperson.Isuspecteverybody.Anybodyconnectedwithacrimeisregardedbymeasacriminaluntilthatpersonisprovedinnocent.’
EliseGrandierscowledathimangrily.
‘Areyousayingthatyoususpectme—me—ofhavingmurderedMadame?Itistoostrong,that!Suchathoughtisofawickednessunbelievable!’
Herlargebosomroseandfelltumultuously.
‘No,Elise,’saidPoirot.‘IdonotsuspectyouofhavingmurderedMadame.WhoevermurderedMadamewasapassengerintheaeroplane.Thereforeitwasnotyourhandthatdidthedeed.Butyoumighthavebeenanaccomplicebeforetheact.YoumighthavepassedontosomeonethedetailsofMadame’sjourney.’
‘Ididnot.IswearIdidnot.’
Poirotlookedatheragainforsomeminutesinsilence.Thenhenoddedhishead.
‘Ibelieveyou,’hesaid.‘But,nevertheless,thereissomethingthatyouconceal.Oh,yesthereis!Listen,Iwilltellyousomething.Ineverycaseofacriminalnatureonecomesacrossthesamephenomenawhenquestioningwitnesses.Everyonekeepssomethingback.Sometimes—oftenindeed—itissomethingquiteharmless,something,perhaps,quiteunconnectedwiththecrime;but—Isayitagain—thereisalwayssomething.Thatissowithyou.Oh,donotdeny!IamHerculePoirotandIknow.WhenmyfriendM.Fournieraskedyouifyouweresuretherewasnothingyouhadomittedtomention,youweretroubled.Youansweredunconsciously,withanevasion.AgainjustnowwhenIsuggestedthatyoumighttellmesomethingwhichyouwouldnotcaretotellthepoliceyouveryobviouslyturnedthesuggestionoverinyourmind.Thereis,then,something.Iwanttoknowwhatthatsomethingis.’
‘Itisnothingofimportance.’
‘Possiblynot.Butallthesame,willyounottellmewhatitis?Remember,’hewentonasshehesitated,‘Iamnotofthepolice.’
‘Thatistrue,’saidEliseGrandier.Shehesitatedandwenton,‘Monsieur,Iaminadifficulty.IdonotknowwhatMadameherselfwouldhavewantedmetodo.’
‘Thereisasayingthattwoheadsarebetterthanone.Willyounotconsultme?Letusexaminethequestiontogether.’
Thewomanstilllookedathimdoubtfully.Hesaidwithasmile:
‘Youareagoodwatch-dog,Elise.Itisaquestion,Isee,ofloyaltytoyourdeadmistress?’
‘Thatisquiteright,Monsieur.Madametrustedme.EversinceIenteredherserviceIhavecarriedoutherinstructionsfaithfully.’
‘Youweregrateful,wereyounot,forsomegreatserviceshehadrenderedyou?’
‘Monsieurisveryquick.Yes,thatistrue.Idonotmindadmittingit.Ihadbeendeceived,Monsieur,mysavingsstolen—andtherewasachild.Madamewasgoodtome.Shearrangedforthebabytobebroughtupbysomegoodpeopleonafarm—agoodfarm,Monsieur,andhonestpeople.Itwasthen,atthattime,thatshementionedtomethatshe,too,wasamother.’
‘Didshetellyoutheageofherchild,whereitwas,anydetails?’
‘No,Monsieur,shespokeofapartofherlifethatwasoveranddonewith.Itwasbestso,shesaid.Thelittlegirlwaswellprovidedforandwouldbebroughtuptoatradeorprofession.Shewouldalsoinherithermoneywhenshedied.’
‘Shetoldyounothingfurtheraboutthischildoraboutitsfather?’
‘No,Monsieur,butIhaveanidea—’
‘Speak,MademoiselleElise.’
‘Itisanideaonly,youunderstand.’
‘Perfectly,perfectly.’
‘IhaveanideathatthefatherofthechildwasanEnglishman.’
‘Whatexactlydoyouthinkgaveyouthatimpression?’
‘Nothingdefinite.ItisjustthattherewasabitternessinMadame’svoicewhenshespokeoftheEnglish.Ithink,too,thatinherbusinesstransactionssheenjoyedhavinganyoneEnglishinherpower.Itisanimpressiononly—’
‘Yes,butitmaybeaveryvaluableone.Itopensuppossibilities…Yourownchild,MademoiselleElise?Wasitagirloraboy?’
‘Agirl,Monsieur.Butsheisdead—deadthesefiveyearsnow.’
‘Ah—allmysympathy.’
Therewasapause.
‘Andnow,MademoiselleElise,’saidPoirot,‘whatisthissomethingthatyouhavehithertorefrainedfrommentioning?’
Eliseroseandlefttheroom.Shereturnedafewminuteslaterwithasmallshabbyblacknotebookinherhand.
‘ThislittlebookwasMadame’s.Itwentwithhereverywhere.WhenshewasabouttodepartforEnglandshecouldnotfindit.Itwasmislaid.AftershehadgoneIfoundit.Ithaddroppeddownbehindtheheadofthebed.IputitinmyroomtokeepuntilMadameshouldreturn.IburnedthepapersassoonasIheardofMadame’sdeath,butIdidnotburnthebook.Therewerenoinstructionsastothat.’
‘WhendidyouhearofMadame’sdeath?’
Elisehesitatedaminute.
‘Youhearditfromthepolice,didyounot?’saidPoirot.‘TheycamehereandexaminedMadame’srooms.Theyfoundthesafeemptyandyoutoldthemthatyouhadburntthepapers,butactuallyyoudidnotburnthepapersuntilafterwards.’
‘Itistrue,Monsieur,’admittedElise.‘WhilsttheywerelookinginthesafeIremovedthepapersfromthetrunk.Isaidtheywereburnt,yes.Afterall,itwasverynearlythetruth.Iburntthematthefirstopportunity.IhadtocarryoutMadame’sorders.Youseemydifficulty,Monsieur?Youwillnotinformthepolice?Itmightbeaveryseriousmatterforme.’
‘Ibelieve,MademoiselleElise,thatyouactedwiththebestintentions.Allthesame,youunderstand,itisapity…agreatpity.Butitdoesnogoodtoregretwhatisdone,andIseenonecessityforcommunicatingtheexacthourofthedestructiontotheexcellentM.Fournier.Nowletmeseeifthereisanythinginthislittlebooktoaidus.’
‘Idonotthinktherewillbe,Monsieur,’saidElise,shakingherhead.‘ItisMadame’sprivatememorandums,yes,buttherearenumbersonly.Withoutthedocumentsandfilestheseentriesaremeaningless.’
UnwillinglysheheldoutthebooktoPoirot.Hetookitandturnedthepages.Therewerepencilledentriesinaslopingforeignwriting.Theyseemedtobeallofthesamekind.Anumberfollowedbyafewdescriptivedetails,suchas:
CX256.Colonel’swife.StationedSyria.Regimentalfunds.GF342.FrenchDeputy.Staviskyconnexion.Theentriesseemedtobeallofthesamekind.Therewereperhapstwentyinall.Attheendofthebookwerepencilledmemorandaofdatesorplaces,suchas:
LePinet,Monday.Casino,10.30.SavoyHotel,5o’clock.ABC.FleetStreet,11o’clock.
Noneofthesewerecompleteinthemselves,andseemedtohavebeenputdownlessasactualappointmentsthanasaidstoGiselle’smemory.
ElisewaswatchingPoirotanxiously.
‘Itmeansnothing,Monsieur,orsoitseemstome.ItwascomprehensibletoMadame,butnottoamerereader.’
Poirotclosedthebookandputitinhispocket.
‘Thismaybeveryvaluable,Mademoiselle.Youdidwiselytogiveittome.Andyourconsciencemaybequiteatrest.Madameneveraskedyoutoburnthisbook?’
‘Thatistrue,’saidElise,herfacebrighteningalittle.
‘Therefore,havingnoinstructions,itisyourdutytohandthisovertothepolice.IwillarrangematterswithM.Fourniersothatyoushallnotbeblamedfornothavingdonesosooner.’
‘Monsieurisverykind.’
Poirotrose.
‘Iwillgonowandjoinmycolleague.Justonelastquestion.WhenyoureservedaseatintheaeroplaneforMadameGiselle,didyouringuptheaerodromeatLeBourgetortheofficeofthecompany?’
‘IranguptheofficeofUniversalAirlines,Monsieur.’
‘Andthat,Ithink,isintheBoulevarddesCapucines?’
‘Thatisright,Monsieur,254BoulevarddesCapucines.’
Poirotinscribedthenumberinhislittlebook,thenwithafriendlynodhelefttheroom.
Chapter11
TheAmerican
FournierwasdeepinconversationwitholdGeorges.Thedetectivewaslookinghotandannoyed.
‘Justlikethepolice,’theoldmanwasgrumblinginhisdeephoarsevoice.‘Askonethesamequestionoverandoveragain.Whatdotheyhopefor?Thatsoonerorlateronewillgiveoverspeakingthetruthandtaketoliesinstead?Agreeablelies,naturally,liesthatsuitthebookofcesMessieurs.’
‘ItisnotliesIwant,butthetruth.’
‘Verywell,itisthetruththatIhavebeentellingyou.Yes,awomandidcometoseeMadamethenightbeforesheleftforEngland.Youshowmethosephotographs,youaskmeifIrecognizethewomanamongthem.ItellyouwhatIhavetoldyouallalong—mypresenteyesightisnotgood—itwasgrowingdark—Ididnotlookclosely.Ididnotrecognizethelady.IfIsawherfacetofaceIshouldprobablynotrecognizeher.There!Youhaveitplainlyforthefourthorfifthtime.’
‘Andyoucannotevenrememberifshewastallorshort,darkorfair,youngorold?Itishardlytobebelieved,that.’
Fournierspokewithirritablesarcasm.
‘Thendonotbelieveit.WhatdoIcare?Anicething—tobemixedupwiththepolice!Iamashamed.IfMadamehadnotbeenkilledhighupintheairyouwouldprobablypretendthatI,Georges,hadpoisonedher.Thepolicearelikethat.’PoirotforestalledanangryretortonFournier’spartbyslippingatactfularmthroughthatofhisfriend.
‘Come,monvieux,’hesaid.‘Thestomachcalls.Asimplebutsatisfyingmeal,thatiswhatIprescribe.Letussayomeletteauxchampignons,soleàlaNormande—acheeseofPortSalut,andwithitredwine.Whatwineexactly?’
Fournierglancedathiswatch.
‘True,’hesaid.‘Itisoneo’clock.Talkingtothisanimalhere—’HeglaredatGeorges.
Poirotsmiledencouraginglyattheoldman.
‘Itisunderstood,’hesaid.‘Thenamelessladywasneithertallnorshort,fairnordark,thinnorfat,butthisatleastyoucantellus:Wasshechic?’
‘Chic?’saidGeorges,rathertakenaback.
‘Iamanswered,’saidPoirot.‘Shewaschic.AndIhavealittleidea,myfriend,thatshewouldlookwellinabathing-dress.’
Georgesstaredathim.
‘Abathing-dress?Whatisthisaboutabathing-dress?’
‘Alittleideaofmine.Acharmingwomanlooksstillmorecharminginabathing-dress.Doyounotagree?Seehere.’
HepassedtotheoldmanapagetornfromtheSketch
Therewasamoment’spause.Theoldmangaveaveryslightstart.
‘Youagree,doyounot?’askedPoirot
‘Theylookwellenough,thosetwo,’saidtheoldman,handingthesheetback.‘Towearnothingatallwouldbeverynearlythesamething.’
‘Ah,’saidPoirot.‘Thatisbecausenowadayswehavediscoveredthebeneficialactionofsunontheskin.Itisveryconvenient,that.’
Georgescondescendedtogiveahoarsechuckle,andmovedawayasPoirotandFourniersteppedoutintothesunlitstreet.
OverthemealasoutlinedbyPoirot,thelittleBelgianproducedthelittleblackmemorandumbook.
Fournierwasmuchexcited,thoughdistinctlyiratewithElise.Poirotarguedthepoint.
‘Itisnatural—verynatural.Thepolice?Itisalwaysawordfrighteningtothatclass.Itembroilsthemintheyknownotwhat.Itisthesameeverywhere—ineverycountry.’
‘Thatiswhereyouscore,’saidFournier.‘Theprivateinvestigatorgetsmoreoutofwitnessesthanyouevergetthroughofficialchannels.However,thereistheothersideofthepicture.Wehaveofficialrecords—thewholesystemofabigorganizationatourcommand.’
‘Soletusworktogetheramicably,’saidPoirot,smiling.‘Thisomeletteisdelicious.’
Intheintervalbetweentheomeletteandthesole,Fournierturnedthepagesoftheblackbook.Thenhemadeapencilledentryinhisnotebook.
HelookedacrossatPoirot.
‘Youhavereadthroughthis?Yes?’
‘No.Ihaveonlyglancedatit.Youpermit?’
HetookthebookfromFournier.
WhenthecheesewasplacedbeforethemPoirotlaiddownthebookonthetable,andtheeyesofthetwomenmet.
‘Therearecertainentries,’beganFournier.
‘Five,’saidPoirot.
‘Iagree—five.’
Hereadoutfromhispocket-book:
‘CL52.EnglishPeeress.Husband.RT362.Doctor.HarleyStreet.MR24.ForgedAntiquities.XVB724.English.Embezzlement.GF45.AttemptedMurder.English.’‘Excellent,myfriend,’saidPoirot.‘Ourmindsmarchtogethertoamarvel.Ofalltheentriesinthatlittlebook,thosefiveseemtometobetheonlyonesthatcaninanywaybeararelationtothepersonstravellingintheaeroplane.Letustakethemonebyone.’
‘EnglishPeeress.Husband,’saidFournier.‘ThatmayconceivablyapplytoLadyHorbury.Sheis,Iunderstand,aconfirmedgambler.NothingcouldbemorelikelythanthatsheshouldborrowmoneyfromGiselle.Giselle’sclientsareusuallyofthattype.Thewordhusbandmayhaveoneoftwomeanings.EitherGiselleexpectedthehusbandtopayuphiswife’sdebts,orshehadsomeholdoverLadyHorbury,asecretwhichshethreatenedtorevealtothelady’shusband.’
‘Precisely,’saidPoirot.‘Eitherofthosetwoalternativesmightapply.Ifavourthesecondonemyself,especiallyasIwouldbepreparedtobetthatthewomanwhovisitedGisellethenightbeforetheaeroplanejourneywasLadyHorbury.’
‘Ah,youthinkthat,doyou?’
‘Yes,andIfancyyouthinkthesame.Thereisatouchofchivalry,Ithink,inourconcierge’sdisposition.Hispersistenceinrememberingnothingatallaboutthevisitorseemsrathersignificant.LadyHorburyisanextremelyprettywoman.Moreover,Iobservedhisstart—oh,averyslightone—whenIhandedhimareproductionofherinbathingcostumefromtheSketch.Yes,itwasLadyHorburywhowenttoGiselle’sthatnight.’
‘ShefollowedhertoParisfromLePinet,’saidFournierslowly.‘Itlooksasthoughshewereprettydesperate.’
‘Yes,yes,Ifancythatmaybetrue.’
Fournierlookedathimcuriously.
‘Butitdoesnotsquarewithyourprivateideas,eh?’
‘Myfriend,asItellyou,IhavewhatIamconvincedistherightcluepointingtothewrongperson…Iamverymuchinthedark.Mycluecannotbewrong;andyet—’
‘Youwouldn’tliketotellmewhatitis?’suggestedFournier.
‘No,becauseImay,yousee,bewrong—totallyandutterlywrong.AndinthatcaseImightleadyou,too,astray.No,letuseachworkaccordingtoourownideas.Tocontinuewithourselecteditemsfromthelittlebook.’
‘RT362.Doctor.HarleyStreet,’readoutFournier.
‘ApossiblecluetoDrBryant.Thereisnothingmuchtogoon,butwemustnotneglectthatlineofinvestigation.’
‘That,ofcourse,willbethetaskofInspectorJapp.’
‘Andmine,’saidPoirot.‘I,too,havemyfingerinthispie.’
‘MR24.ForgedAntiquities,’readFournier.‘Farfetched,perhaps,butitisjustpossiblethatthatmightapplytotheDuponts.Icanhardlycreditit.M.Dupontisanarchaeologistofworld-widereputation.Hebearsthehighestcharacter.’
‘Whichwouldfacilitatemattersverymuchforhim,’saidPoirot.‘Consider,mydearFournier,howhighhasbeenthecharacter,howloftythesentiments,andhowworthyofadmirationthelifeofmostswindlersofnote—beforetheyarefoundout!’
‘True,onlytootrue,’agreedtheFrenchmanwithasigh.
‘Ahighreputation,’saidPoirot,‘isthefirstnecessityofaswindler’sstockintrade.Aninterestingthought.Butletusreturntoourlist.’
‘XVB724isveryambiguous.English.Embezzlement.’
‘Notveryhelpful,’agreedPoirot.‘Whoembezzles?Asolicitor?Abankclerk?Anyoneinapositionoftrustinacommercialfirm.Hardlyanauthor,adentistoradoctor.MrJamesRyderistheonlyrepresentativeofcommerce.Hemayhaveembezzledmoney,hemayhaveborrowedfromGiselletoenablehisthefttoremainundetected.Astothelastentry—GF45.AttemptedMurder.English—thatgivesusaverywidefield.Author,dentist,doctor,businessman,steward,hairdresser’sassistant,ladyofbirthandbreeding—anyoneofthosemightbeGF45.InfactonlytheDupontsareexemptbyreasonoftheirnationality.’
Withagesturehesummonedthewaiterandaskedforthebill.
‘Andwherenext,myfriend?’heinquired.
‘TotheS?reté.Theymayhavesomenewsforme.’
‘Good.Iwillaccompanyyou.AfterwardsIhavealittleinvestigationofmyowntomakeinwhich,perhaps,youwillassistme.’
AttheS?retéPoirotrenewedacquaintancewiththeChiefoftheDetectiveForce,whomhehadmetsomeyearspreviouslyinthecourseofoneofhiscases.M.Gilleswasveryaffableandpolite.
‘Enchantedtolearnthatyouareinterestingyourselfinthiscase,M.Poirot.’
‘Myfaith,mydearM.Gilles,ithappenedundermynose.Itisaninsult,that,youagree?HerculePoirottosleepwhilemurderiscommitted!’
M.Gillesshookhisheadtactfully.
‘Thesemachines!Onadayofbadweathertheyarefarfromsteady,farfromsteady.Imyselfhavefeltseriouslyincommodedonceortwice.’
‘Theysaythatanarmymarchesonitsstomach,’saidPoirot.‘Buthowmucharethedelicateconvolutionsofthebraininfluencedbythedigestiveapparatus?WhenthemaldemerseizesmeI,HerculePoirot,amacreaturewithnogreycells,noorder,nomethod—amerememberofthehumanracesomewhatbelowaverageintelligence!Itisdeplorable,butthereitis!Andtalkingofthesematters,howismyexcellentfriendGiraud?’
Prudentlyignoringthesignificanceofthewords‘thesematters’,M.GillesrepliedthatGiraudcontinuedtoadvanceinhiscareer.
‘Heismostzealous.Hisenergyisuntiring.’
‘Italwayswas,’saidPoirot.‘Herantoandfro.Hecrawledonallfours.Hewashere,thereandeverywhere.Notforonemomentdidheeverpauseandreflect.’
‘Ah,M.Poirot,thatisyourlittlefoible.AmanlikeFournierwillbemoretoyourmind.Heisofthenewestschool—allforthepsychology.Thatshouldpleaseyou.’
‘Itdoes.Itdoes.’
‘HehasaverygoodknowledgeofEnglish.ThatiswhywesenthimtoCroydontoassistinthiscase.Averyinterestingcase,M.Poirot.MadameGisellewasoneofthebest-knowncharactersinParis.Andthemannerofherdeath—extraordinary!Apoisoneddartfromablowpipeinanaeroplane.Iaskyou!Isitpossiblethatsuchathingcouldhappen?’
‘Exactly,’criedPoirot.‘Exactly.Youhitthenailuponthehead.Youplaceafingerunerringly—Ah,hereisourgoodFournier.Youhavenews,Isee.’
Themelancholy-facedFournierwaslookingquiteeagerandexcited.
‘Yes,indeed.AGreekantiquedealer,Zeropoulos,hasreportedthesaleofablowpipeanddartsthreedaysbeforethemurder.Iproposenow,Monsieur’—hebowedrespectfullytohischief—‘tointerviewthisman.’
‘Byallmeans,’saidGilles.‘DoesM.Poirotaccompanyyou?’
‘Ifyouplease,’saidPoirot.‘Thisisinteresting—veryinteresting.’
TheshopofM.ZeropouloswasintheRueStHonoré.Itwasbywayofbeingahigh-classantiquedealer’s.TherewasagooddealofRhageswareandotherPersianpottery.TherewereoneortwobronzesfromLouristan,agooddealofinferiorIndianjewellery,shelvesofsilksandembroideriesfrommanycountries,andalargeproportionofperfectlyworthlessbeadsandcheapEgyptiangoods.Itwasthekindofestablishmentinwhichyoucouldspendamillionfrancsonanobjectworthhalfamillion,ortenfrancsonanobjectworthfiftycentimes.ItwaspatronizedchieflybyAmericantouristsandknowledgeableconnoisseurs.
M.Zeropouloshimselfwasashort,stoutlittlemanwithbeadyblackeyes.Hetalkedvolublyandatgreatlength.
Thegentlemenwerefromthepolice?Hewasdelightedtoseethem.Perhapstheywouldstepintohisprivateoffice.Yes,hehadsoldablowpipeanddarts—aSouthAmericancurio—‘youcomprehend,gentlemen,me,Isellalittleofeverything!Ihavemyspecialities.Persiaismyspeciality.M.Dupont,theesteemedM.Duponthewillanswerforme.Hehimselfcomesalwaystoseemycollection—toseewhatnewpurchasesIhavemade—togivehisjudgementonthegenuinenessofcertaindoubtfulpieces.Whataman!Solearned!Suchaneye!Suchafeel.ButIwanderfromthepoint.Ihavemycollection—myvaluablecollectionthatallconnoisseursknow—andalsoIhave—well,frankly,Messieurs,letuscallitjunk!Foreignjunk,thatisunderstood,alittlebitofeverything—fromtheSouthSeas,fromIndia,fromJapan,fromBorneo.Nomatter!UsuallyIhavenofixedpriceforthesethings.IfanyonetakesaninterestImakemyestimateandIaskaprice,andnaturallyIambeatendown,andintheendItakeonlyhalf.Andeventhen,Iwilladmitit,theprofitisgood!Thesearticles,Ibuythemfromsailorsusuallyataverylowprice.’
M.Zeropoulostookabreathandwentonhappily,delightedwithhimself,hisimportanceandtheeasyflowofhisnarration.
‘ThisblowpipeanddartsIhavehaditforalongtime—twoyears,perhaps.Itwasinthattraythere,withacowrienecklaceandaRedIndianheaddress,andoneortwocrudewoodenidolsandsomeinferiorjadebeads.Nobodyremarksit,nobodynoticesittilltherecomesthisAmericanandasksmewhatitis.’
‘AnAmerican?’saidFourniersharply.
‘Yes,yes,anAmerican—unmistakablyanAmerican.NotthebesttypeofAmerican,either—thekindthatknowsnothingaboutanythingandjustwantsacuriototakehome.HeisofthetypethatmakesthefortuneofbeadsellersinEgypt—thatbuysthemostpreposterousscarabsevermadeinCzecho-Slovakia.Well,veryquicklyIsizehimup,Itellhimaboutthehabitsofcertaintribes,thedeadlypoisonstheyuse.Iexplainhowveryrareandunusualitisthatanythingofthiskindcomesintothemarket.HeasksthepriceandItellhim.ItismyAmericanprice,notquiteashighasformerly(alas!theyhavehadthedepressionoverthere).Iwaitforhimtobargain,butstraightawayhepaysmyprice.Iamstupefied.Itisapity;Imighthaveaskedmore!Igivehimtheblowpipeandthedartswrappedupinaparcelandhetakesthemaway.Itisfinished.ButafterwardswhenIreadinthepaperofthisastoundingmurderIwonder—yes,Iwonderverymuch.AndIcommunicatewiththepolice.’
‘Wearemuchobligedtoyou,M.Zeropoulos,’saidFournierpolitely.‘Thisblowpipeanddart—youthinkyouwouldbeabletoidentifythem?AtthemomenttheyareinLondon,youunderstand,butanopportunitywillbegivenyouofidentifyingthem.’
‘Theblowpipewasaboutsolong,’M.Zeropoulosmeasuredaspaceonhisdesk,‘andsothick—yousee,likethispenofmine.Itwasofalightcolour.Therewerefourdarts.Theywerelongpointedthorns,slightlydiscolouredatthetips,withalittlefluffofredsilkonthem.’
‘Redsilk?’askedPoirotkeenly.
‘Yes,Monsieur.Acerisered—somewhatfaded.’
‘Thatiscurious,’saidFournier.‘Youaresurethattherewasnotoneofthemwithablackandyellowfluffofsilk?’
‘Blackandyellow?No,Monsieur.’
Thedealershookhishead.
FournierglancedatPoirot.Therewasacurioussatisfiedsmileonthelittleman’sface.
Fournierwonderedwhy.WasitbecauseZeropouloswaslying,orwasitforsomeotherreason?
Fourniersaiddoubtfully,‘Itisverypossiblethatthisblowpipeanddarthasnothingwhatevertodowiththecase.Itisjustonechanceinfifty,perhaps.Nevertheless,IshouldlikeasfulladescriptionaspossibleofthisAmerican.’
ZeropoulosspreadoutapairofOrientalhands.
‘HewasjustanAmerican.Hisvoicewasinhisnose.HecouldnotspeakFrench.Hewaschewingthegum.Hehadtortoise-shellglasses.Hewastalland,Ithink,notveryold.’
‘Fairordark?’
‘Icouldhardlysay.Hehadhishaton.’
‘Wouldyouknowhimagainifyousawhim?’
Zeropoulosseemeddoubtful.
‘Icouldnotsay.SomanyAmericanscomeandgo.Hewasnotremarkableinanyway.’
Fourniershowedhimthecollectionofsnapshots,butwithoutavail.Noneofthem,Zeropoulosthought,wastheman.
‘Probablyawild-goosechase,’saidFournierastheylefttheshop.
‘Itispossible,yes,’agreedPoirot.‘ButIdonotthinkso.ThepriceticketswereofthesameshapeandthereareoneortwopointsofinterestaboutthestoryandaboutM.Zeropoulos’sremarks.Andnow,myfriend,havingbeenupononewild-goosechase,indulgemeandcomeuponanother.’
‘Whereto?’
‘TotheBoulevarddesCapucines.’
‘Letmesee,thatis—?’
‘TheofficeofUniversalAirlines.’
‘Ofcourse.Butwehavealreadymadeperfunctoryinquiriesthere.Theycouldtellusnothingofinterest.’
Poirottappedhimkindlyontheshoulder.
‘Ah,but,yousee,ananswerdependsonthequestions.Youdidnotknowwhatquestionstoask.’
‘Andyoudo?’
‘Well,Ihaveacertainlittleidea.’
Hewouldsaynomore,andinduecoursetheyarrivedattheBoulevarddesCapucines.
TheofficeofUniversalAirlineswasquitesmall.Asmart-lookingdarkmanwasbehindahighly-polishedwoodencounterandaboyofaboutfifteenwassittingatatypewriter.
Fournierproducedhiscredentialsandtheman,whosenamewasJulesPerrot,declaredhimselftobeentirelyattheirservice.
AtPoirot’ssuggestion,thetypewritingboywasdispatchedtothefarthestcorner.
‘Itisveryconfidentialwhatwehavetosay,’heexplained.
JulesPerrotlookedpleasantlyexcited.
‘Yes,Messieurs?’
‘ItisthismatterofthemurderofMadameGiselle.’
‘Ah,yes,Irecollect.IthinkIhavealreadyansweredsomequestionsonthesubject.’
‘Precisely,precisely.Butitisnecessarytohavethefactsveryexactly.NowMadameGisellereceivedherplace—when?’
‘Ithinkthatpointhasalreadybeensettled.Shebookedherseatbytelephoneonthe17th.’
‘Thatwasforthe12o’clockserviceonthefollowingday?’
‘Yes,Monsieur.’
‘ButIunderstandfromhermaidthatitwasonthe8.45amservicethatMadamereservedaseat.’
‘No,no—atleastthisiswhathappened.Madame’smaidaskedforthe8.45service,butthatservicewasalreadybookedup,sowegaveheraseatonthe12o’clockinstead.’
‘Ah,Isee.Isee.’
‘Yes,Monsieur.’
‘Isee—Isee—butallthesameitiscurious—decidedlyitiscurious.’
Theclerklookedathiminquiringly.
‘ItisonlythatafriendofminedecidedtogotoEnglandatamoment’snotice,wenttoEnglandonthe8.45servicethatmorning,andtheplanewashalfempty.’
M.Perrotturnedoversomepapers.Heblewhisnose.
‘Possiblyyourfriendhasmistakentheday.Thedaybeforeorthedayafter—’
‘Notatall.Itwasthedayofthemurder,becausemyfriendsaidthatifhehadmissedtheplane,ashenearlydid,hewouldhaveactuallybeenoneofthepassengersinthePrometheus.’
‘Ah,indeed.Yes,verycurious.Ofcourse,sometimespeopledonotarriveatthelastminute,andthen,naturally,therearevacantplaces…andthensometimestherearemistakes.IhavetogetintouchwithLeBourget;theyarenotalwaysaccurate—’
ThemildinquiringgazeofHerculePoirotseemedtobeupsettingtoJulesPerrot.Hecametoastop.Hiseyesshifted.Alittlebeadofperspirationcameoutonhisforehead.
‘Twoquitepossibleexplanations,’saidPoirot,‘butsomehow,Ifancy,notthetrueexplanation.Don’tyouthinkitmightperhapsbebettertomakeacleanbreastofthematter?’
‘Acleanbreastofwhat?Idon’tunderstandyou.’
‘Come,come.Youunderstandmeverywell.Thisisacaseofmurder—murder,M.Perrot.Rememberthat,ifyouplease.Ifyouwithholdinformationitmaywellbeveryseriousforyou—veryseriousindeed.Thepolicewilltakeaverygraveview.Youareobstructingtheendsofjustice.’
JulesPerrotstaredathim.Hismouthfellopen.Hishandsshook.
‘Come,’saidPoirot.Hisvoicewasauthoritative,autocratic.‘Wewantpreciseinformation,ifyouplease.Howmuchwereyoupaid,andwhopaidyou?’
‘Imeantnoharm—Ihadnoidea—Ineverguessed…’
‘Howmuch,andwhoby?’
‘F-fivethousandfrancs.Ineversawthemanbefore.I—thiswillruinme…’
‘Whatwillruinyouisnottospeakout.Come,now,weknowtheworst.Tellusexactlyhowithappened.’
Theperspirationrollingdownhisforehead,JulesPerrotspokerapidlyinlittlejerks.
‘Imeantnoharm…Uponmyhonour,Imeantnoharm.Amancamein.HesaidhewasgoingtoEnglandonthefollowingday.Hewantedtonegotiatealoanfrom—fromMadameGiselle,buthewantedtheirmeetingtobeunpremeditated.Hesaiditwouldgivehimabetterchance.HesaidthatheknewshewasgoingtoEnglandonthefollowingday.AllIhadtodowastotellhertheearlyservicewasfullupandtogiveherseatNo.2inthePrometheus.Iswear,Messieurs,thatIsawnothingverywronginthat.Whatdifferencecoulditmake?—thatiswhatIthought.Americansarelikethat—theydobusinessinunconventionalways—’
‘Americans?’saidFourniersharply.
‘Yes,thisMonsieurwasanAmerican.’
‘Describehim.’
‘Hewastall,stooped,hadgreyhair,horn-rimmedglassesandalittlegoateebeard.’
‘Didhebookaseathimself?’
‘Yes,Monsieur,seatNo.1—nextto—totheoneIwastokeepforMadameGiselle.’
‘Inwhatname?’
‘Silas—SilasHarper.’
‘Therewasnooneofthatnametravelling,andnooneoccupiedseatNo.1.’
Poirotshookhisheadgently.
‘Isawbythepaperthattherewasnooneofthatname.ThatiswhyIthoughttherewasnoneedtomentionthematter.Sincethismandidnotgobytheplane—’
Fourniershothimacoldglance.
‘Youhavewithheldvaluableinformationfromthepolice,’hesaid.‘Thisisaveryseriousmatter.’
TogetherheandPoirotlefttheoffice,leavingJulesPerrotstaringafterthemwithafrightenedface.
Onthepavementoutside,Fournierremovedhishatandbowed.
‘Isaluteyou,M.Poirot.Whatgaveyouthisidea?’
‘Twoseparatesentences.OnethismorningwhenIheardamaninourplanesaythathehadcrossedonthemorningofthemurderinanearlyemptyplane.ThesecondsentencewasthatutteredbyElisewhenshesaidthatsherunguptheofficeofUniversalAirlinesandthattherewasnoroomontheearlymorningservice.Nowthosetwostatementsdidnotagree.IrememberedthestewardonthePrometheussayingthathehadseenMadameGisellebeforeontheearlyservice—soitwasclearlyhercustomtogobythe8.45amplane.
‘Butsomebodywantedhertogoonthe12o’clock—somebodywhowasalreadytravellingbythePrometheus.Whydidtheclerksaythattheearlyservicewasbookedup?Amistake,oradeliberatelie?Ifanciedthelatter…Iwasright.’
‘Everyminutethiscasegetsmorepuzzling,’criedFournier.‘Firstweseemtobeonthetrackofawoman.Nowitisaman.ThisAmerican—’
HestoppedandlookedatPoirot.
Thelatternoddedgently.
‘Yes,myfriend,’hesaid.‘ItissoeasytobeanAmerican—hereinParis!Anasalvoice—thechewinggum—thelittlegoatee—thehorn-rimmedspectacles—alltheappurtenancesofthestageAmerican…’
HetookfromhispocketthepagehehadtornfromtheSketch
‘Whatareyoulookingat?’
‘Atacountessinherbathingsuit.’
‘Youthink—?Butno,sheispetite,charming,fragile—shecouldnotimpersonateatallstoopingAmerican.Shehasbeenanactress,yes,buttoactsuchapartisoutofthequestion.No,myfriend,thatideawillnotdo.’
‘Ineversaiditwould,’saidHerculePoirot.
Andstillhelookedearnestlyattheprintedpage.
Chapter12
AtHorburyChase
LordHorburystoodbythesideboardandhelpedhimselfabsent-mindedlytokidneys.
StephenHorburywastwenty-sevenyearsofage.Hehadanarrowheadandalongchin.Helookedverymuchwhathewas—asportingout-of-doorkindofmanwithoutanythingveryspectacularinthewayofbrains.Hewaskind-hearted,slightlypriggish,intenselyloyalandinvinciblyobstinate.
Hetookhisheapedplatebacktothetableandbegantoeat.Presentlyheopenedanewspaper,butimmediately,withafrown,hecastitaside.Hethrustasidehisunfinishedplate,dranksomecoffeeandrosetohisfeet.Hepauseduncertainlyforaminute,thenwithaslightnodoftheheadheleftthedining-room,crossedthewidehallandwentupstairs.Hetappedatadoorandwaitedforaminute.Frominsidetheroomaclearhighvoicecriedout,‘Comein.’
LordHorburywentin.
Itwasawidebeautifulbedroomfacingsouth.CicelyHorburywasinbed,agreatcarvedoakElizabethanbed.Verylovelyshelooked,too,inherrosechiffondraperies,withthecurlinggoldofherhair.Abreakfasttraywiththeremainsoforangejuiceandcoffeeonitwasonatablebesideher.Shewasopeningherletters.Hermaidwasmovingabouttheroom.
Anymanmightbeexcusedifhisbreathcamealittlefasterconfrontedbysomuchloveliness;butthecharmingpicturehiswifepresentedaffectedLordHorburynotatall.
Therehadbeenatime,threeyearsago,whenthebreathtakinglovelinessofhisCicelyhadsettheyoungman’ssensesreeling.Hehadbeenmadly,wildly,passionatelyinlove.Allthatwasover.Hehadbeenmad.Hewasnowsane.
LadyHorburysaidinsomesurprise:
‘Why,Stephen?’
Hesaidabruptly,‘I’dliketotalktoyoualone.’
‘Madeleine.’LadyHorburyspoketohermaid.‘Leaveallthat.Getout.’
TheFrenchgirlmurmured,‘Trèsbien,m’lady’,shotaquickinterestedlookoutofthecornerofhereyeatLordHorburyandlefttheroom.
LordHorburywaitedtillshehadshutthedoor,thenhesaid:
‘I’dliketoknow,Cicely,justexactlywhatisbehindthisideaofcomingdownhere.’
LadyHorburyshruggedherslender,beautifulshoulders.
‘Afterall,whynot?’
‘Whynot?Itseemstomethereareagoodmanyreasons.’
Hiswifemurmured,‘Oh,reasons…’
‘Yes,reasons.You’llrememberthatweagreedthatasthingswerebetweenus,itwouldbeaswelltogiveupthisfarceoflivingtogether.Youweretohavethetownhouseandagenerous—anextremelygenerous—allowance.Withincertainlimitsyouweretogoyourownway.Whythissuddenreturn?’
AgainCicelyshruggedhershoulders.
‘Ithoughtit—better.’
‘Youmean,Isuppose,thatit’smoney?’
LadyHorburysaid,‘MyGod,howIhateyou.You’rethemeanestmanalive.’
‘Mean?Mean,yousay,whenit’sbecauseofyouandyoursenselessextravagancethatthere’samortgageonHorbury.’
‘Horbury—Horbury—that’sallyoucarefor!Horsesandhuntingandshootingandcropsandtiresomeoldfarmers.God,whatalifeforawoman.’
‘Somewomenenjoyit.’
‘Yes,womenlikeVenetiaKerr,who’shalfahorseherself.Yououghttohavemarriedawomanlikethat.’
LordHorburywalkedovertothewindow.
‘It’salittlelatetosaythat.Imarriedyou.’
‘Andyoucan’tgetoutofit,’saidCicely.Herlaughwasmalicious,triumphant.‘You’dliketogetridofme,butyoucan’t.’
Hesaid,‘Needwegointoallthis?’
‘VerymuchGodandtheOldSchool,aren’tyou?MostofmyfriendsfairlylaughtheirheadsoffwhenItellthemthekindofthingsyousay.’
‘Theyarewelcometodoso.Shallwegetbacktoouroriginalsubjectofdiscussion—yourreasonforcominghere?’
Buthiswifewouldnotfollowhislead.Shesaid:
‘Youadvertisedinthepapersthatyouwouldn’tberesponsibleformydebts.Doyoucallthatagentlemanlythingtodo?’
‘Iregrethavinghadtotakethatstep.Iwarnedyou,youwillremember.TwiceIpaidup.Buttherearelimits.Yourinsensatepassionforgambling—well,whydiscussit?ButIdowanttoknowwhatpromptedyoutocomedowntoHorbury.You’vealwayshatedtheplace,beenboredtodeathhere.’
CicelyHorbury,hersmallfacesullen,said,‘Ithoughtitbetter—justnow.’
‘Better—justnow?’Herepeatedthewordsthoughtfully.Thenheaskedaquestionsharply:‘Cicely,hadyoubeenborrowingfromthatoldFrenchmoneylender?’
‘Whichone?Idon’tknowwhatyoumean.’
‘YouknowperfectlywhatImean.ImeanthewomanwhowasmurderedontheplanefromParis—theplaneonwhichyoutravelledhome.Hadyouborrowedmoneyfromher?’
‘No,ofcoursenot.Whatanidea!’
‘Now,don’tbealittlefooloverthis,Cicely.Ifthatwomandidlendyoumoney,you’dbettertellmeaboutit.Rememberthebusinessisn’toverandfinishedwith.Theverdictattheinquestwaswilfulmurderbyapersonorpersonsunknown.Thepoliceofbothcountriesareatwork.It’sonlyamatteroftimebeforetheycomeonthetruth.Thewoman’ssuretohaveleftrecordsofherdealings.Ifanythingcropsuptoconnectyouwithherweshouldbepreparedbeforehand.Wemusthaveffoulkes’sadviceonthematter.’(ffoulkes,ffoulkes,WilbrahamandffoulkeswerethefamilysolicitorswhoforgenerationshaddealtwiththeHorburyestate.)
‘Didn’tIgiveevidenceinthatdamnedcourtandsayIhadneverheardofthewoman?’
‘Idon’tthinkthatprovesverymuch,’saidherhusbanddryly.‘IfyoudidhavedealingswiththisGiselle,youcanbesurethepolicewillfinditout.’
Cicelysatupangrilyinbed.
‘PerhapsyouthinkIkilledher—stoodupthereinthatplaneandpuffeddartsatherfromablowpipe.Ofallthecrazybusinesses!’
‘Thewholethingsoundsmad,’Stephenagreedthoughtfully.‘ButIdowantyoutorealizeyourposition.’
‘Whatposition?Thereisn’tanyposition.Youdon’tbelieveawordIsay.It’sdamnable.Andwhybesoanxiousaboutmeallofasudden?Alotyoucareaboutwhathappenstome.Youdislikeme.Youhateme.You’dbegladifIdiedtomorrow.Whypretend?’
‘Aren’tyouexaggeratingalittle?Inanycase,old-fashionedthoughyouthinkme,Idohappentocareaboutmyfamilyname—anout-of-datesentimentwhichyouwillprobablydespise.Butthereitis.’
Turningabruptlyonhisheel,helefttheroom.
Apulsewasbeatinginhistemple.Thoughtsfollowedeachotherrapidlythroughhishead.
‘Dislike?Hate?Yes,that’strueenough.ShouldIbegladifshediedtomorrow?MyGod,yes!I’dfeellikeamanwho’sbeenletoutofprison.Whataqueerbeastlybusinesslifeis!WhenIfirstsawherinDoItNow,whatachild,whatanadorablechildshelooked!Sofairandsolovely…Damnedyoungfool!Iwasmadabouther—crazy…Sheseemedeverythingthatwasadorableandsweet,andallthetimeshewaswhatsheisnow—vulgar,vicious,spiteful,empty-headed…Ican’tevenseeherlovelinessnow.’
Hewhistledandaspanielcamerunningtohim,lookingupathimwithadoringsentimentaleyes.
Hesaid,‘GoodoldBetsy,’andfondledthelong,fringedears.
Hethought,‘Funnytermofdisparagement,tocallawomanabitch.Abitchlikeyou,Betsy,isworthnearlyallthewomenI’vemetputtogether.’
Cramminganoldfishinghatonhishead,heleftthehouseaccompaniedbythedog.
Thisaimlesssaunterofhisroundtheestatebegangraduallytosoothehisjanglednerves.Hestrokedtheneckofhisfavouritehunter,hadawordwiththegroom,thenhewenttotheHomeFarmandhadachatwiththefarmer’swife.Hewaswalkingalonganarrowlane,Betsyathisheels,whenhemetVenetiaKerronherbaymare.
Venetialookedherbestuponahorse.LordHorburylookedupatherwithadmiration,fondnessandaqueersenseofhomecoming.
Hesaid,‘Hullo,Venetia.’
‘Hullo,Stephen.’
‘Where’veyoubeen?Outinthefive-acre?’
‘Yes,she’scomingalongnicely,isn’tshe?’
‘First-rate.Haveyouseenthattwo-year-oldofmineIboughtatChattisley’ssale?’
Theytalkedhorsesforsomeminutes,thenhesaid:
‘Bytheway,Cicely’shere.’
‘Here,atHorbury?’
AgainstVenetia’scodetoshowsurprise,butshecouldnotquitekeeptheundertoneofitoutofhervoice.
‘Yes.Turneduplastnight.’
Therewasasilencebetweenthem.ThenStephensaid,‘Youwereatthatinquest,Venetia.How—how—er—diditgo?’
Sheconsideredamoment.
‘Well,nobodywassayingverymuch,ifyouknowwhatImean.’
‘Policeweren’tgivinganythingaway?’
‘No.’
Stephensaid,‘Musthavebeenratheranunpleasantbusinessforyou.’
‘Well,Ididn’texactlyenjoyit.Butitwasn’ttoodevastating.Thecoronerwasquitedecent.’
Stephenslashedabsent-mindedlyatthehedge.
‘Isay,Venetia,anyidea—haveyou,Imean—astowhodidit?’
VenetiaKerrshookherheadslowly.
‘No.’Shepausedaminute,seekinghowbestandmosttactfullytoputintowordswhatshewantedtosay.Sheachieveditatlastwithalittlelaugh.‘Anyway,itwasn’tCicelyorme.ThatIdoknow.She’dhavespottedmeandI’dhavespottedher.’
Stephenlaughedtoo.
‘That’sallright,then,’hesaidcheerfully.
Hepasseditoffasajoke,butsheheardthereliefinhisvoice.Sohehadbeenthinking—
Sheswitchedherthoughtsaway.
‘Venetia,’saidStephen,‘I’veknownyoualongtime,haven’tI?’
‘H’m,yes.Doyourememberthoseawfuldancingclassesweusedtogotoaschildren?’
‘DoInot?IfeelIcansaythingstoyou—’
‘Ofcourseyoucan.’Shehesitated,thenwentoninacalm,matter-of-facttone:‘It’sCicely,Isuppose?’
‘Yes.Lookhere,Venetia.WasCicelymixedupwiththiswomanGiselleinanyway?’
Venetiaansweredslowly.
‘Idon’tknow.I’vebeenintheSouthofFrance,remember.Ihaven’theardtheLePinetgossipyet.’
‘Whatdoyouthink?’
‘Well,candidly,Ishouldn’tbesurprised.’
Stephennoddedthoughtfully.Venetiasaidgently:
‘Needitworryyou?Imeanyouliveprettysemi-detachedlives,don’tyou?Thisbusinessisheraffair,notyours.’
‘Aslongasshe’smywife,it’sboundtobemybusinesstoo.’
‘Can’tyou—er—agreetoadivorce?’
‘Atrumped-upbusiness,youmean?Idoubtifshe’dacceptit.’
‘Wouldyoudivorceherifyouhadthechance?’
‘IfIhadacauseIcertainlywould.’
Hespokegrimly.
‘Isuppose,’saidVenetiathoughtfully,‘sheknowsthat.’
‘Yes.’
Theywerebothsilent.Venetiathought,‘Shehasthemoralsofacat!Iknowthatwellenough.Butshe’scareful.She’sshrewdastheymake’em.’Aloudshesaid,‘Sothere’snothingdoing?’
Heshookhishead.Thenhesaid,‘IfIwerefree,Venetia,wouldyoumarryme?’
Lookingverystraightbetweenherhorse’sears,Venetiasaidinavoicecarefullydevoidofemotion:
‘IsupposeIwould.’
Stephen!She’dalwayslovedStephen,alwayssincetheolddaysofdancingclassesandcubbingandbirds’nesting.AndStephenhadbeenfondofher,butnotfondenoughtopreventhimfromfallingdesperately,wildly,madlyinlovewithaclevercalculatingcatofachorusgirl…
Stephensaid,‘Wecouldhaveamarvellouslifetogether…’
Picturesfloatedbeforehiseyes:hunting—teaandmuffins—thesmellofwetearthandleaves—children…AllthethingsthatCicelycouldneversharewithhim,thatCicelywouldnevergivehim.Akindofmistcameoverhiseyes.ThenheheardVenetiaspeaking,stillinthatflat,emotionlessvoice:
‘Stephen,ifyoucare—whataboutit?IfwewentofftogetherCicelywouldhavetodivorceyou.’
Heinterruptedherfiercely.‘MyGod,doyouthinkI’dletyoudoathinglikethat?’
‘Ishouldn’tcare.’
‘Ishould.’
Hespokewithfinality.
Venetiathought,‘That’sthat.It’sapity,really.He’shopelesslyprejudiced,butratheradear.Iwouldn’tlikehimtobedifferent.’
Aloudshesaid,‘Well,Stephen,I’llbegettingalong.’
Shetouchedherhorsegentlywithherheel.AssheturnedtowavegoodbyetoStephentheireyesmet,andinthatglancewasallthefeelingthattheircarefulwordshadavoided.
AssheroundedthecornerofthelaneVenetiadroppedherwhip.Amanwalkingpickeditupandreturnedittoherwithanexaggeratedbow.
‘Aforeigner,’shethoughtasshethankedhim.‘Iseemtorememberhisface.’HalfofhermindsearchedthroughthesummerdaysatJuanlesPinswhiletheotherhalfthoughtofStephen.
Onlyjustasshereachedhomedidmemorysuddenlypullherhalf-dreamingbrainupwithajerk.
‘Thelittlemanwhogavemehisseatintheaeroplane.Theysaidattheinquesthewasadetective.’Andhardonthatcameanotherthought:‘Whatishedoingdownhere?’
Chapter13
AtAntoine’s
JanepresentedherselfatAntoine’sonthemorningaftertheinquestwithsometrepidationofspirit.
ThepersonwhowasusuallyregardedasM.Antoinehimself,andwhoserealnamewasAndrewLeechandwhoseclaimstoforeignnationalityconsistedofhavinghadaJewishmother,greetedherwithanominousfrown.
ItwasbynowsecondnaturetohimtospeakinbrokenEnglishoncewithintheportalsofBrutonStreet.
HeupbraidedJaneasacompleteimbécile.Whydidshewishtotravelbyair,anyway?Whatanidea!Herescapadewoulddohisestablishmentinfiniteharm.Havingventedhisspleentothefull,Janewaspermittedtoescape,receivingasshedidsoalarge-sizedwinkfromherfriendGladys.
Gladyswasanetherealblondewithahaughtydemeanourandafaint,farawayprofessionalvoice.Inprivatehervoicewashoarseandjocular.
‘Don’tyouworry,dear,’shesaidtoJane.‘Theoldbrute’ssittingonthefencewatchingwhichwaythecatwilljump.Andit’smybeliefitisn’tgoingtojumpthewayhethinksitis.Tata,dearie,here’smyolddevilcomingin,damnhereyes.Isupposeshe’llbeinseventeentantrumsasusual.Ihopeshehasn’tbroughtthatdamnedlap-dogwithher.’
AmomentlaterGladys’svoicecouldbeheardwithitsfaint,farawaynotes…
‘Goodmorning,Madam,notbroughtyoursweetlittlePekingesewithyou?Shallwegetonwiththeshampoo,andthenwe’llbeallreadyforM.Henri.’
Janehadjustenteredtheadjoiningcubiclewhereahenna-hairedwomanwassittingwaiting,examiningherfaceintheglassandsayingtoafriend:
‘Darling,myfaceisreallytoofrightfulthismorning,itreallyis…’
Thefriend,whoinaboredmannerwasturningoverthepagesofathree-weeks-oldSketch,replieduninterestedly:
‘Doyouthinkso,mysweet?Itseemstomemuchthesameasusual.’
OntheentranceofJanetheboredfriendstoppedherlanguidsurveyoftheSketchandsubjectedJanetoapiercingstareinstead.
Thenshesaid,‘Itis,darling.I’msureofit.’
‘Goodmorning,Madam,’saidJanewiththatairybrightnessexpectedofherandwhichshecouldnowproducequitemechanicallyandwithoutanyeffortwhatsoever.‘It’squitealongtimesincewe’veseenyouhere.Iexpectyou’vebeenabroad.’
‘Antibes,’saidthehenna-hairedwoman,whoinherturnwasstaringatJanewiththefrankestinterest.
‘Howlovely,’saidJanewithfalseenthusiasm.‘Letmesee,isitashampooandset,orareyouhavingatinttoday?’
Momentarilydivertedfromherscrutiny,thehenna-hairedwomanleanedforwardandexaminedherhairattentively.
‘IthinkIcouldgoanotherweek.Heavens,whatafrightIlook!’
Thefriendsaid,‘Well,darling,whatcanyouexpectatthistimeofthemorning?’
Janesaid,‘Ah!waituntilM.Georgeshasfinishedwithyou.’
‘Tellme,’thewomanresumedherstare,‘areyouthegirlwhogaveevidenceattheinquestyesterday—thegirlwhowasintheaeroplane?’
‘Yes,Madam.’
‘Howtooterriblythrilling!Tellmeaboutit.’
Janedidherbesttoplease.
‘Well,Madam,itwasallratherdreadful,really—’Sheplungedintonarration,answeringquestionsastheycame.Whathadtheoldwomanlookedlike?WasittruethatthereweretwoFrenchdetectivesaboardandthatthewholethingwasmixedupwiththeFrenchGovernmentscandals?WasLadyHorburyonboard?Wasshereallyasgood-lookingaseveryonesaid?Whodidshe,Jane,thinkhadactuallydonethemurder?TheysaidthewholethingwasbeinghushedupforGovernmentreasons,andsoonandsoon…
Thisfirstordealwasonlyaforerunnerofmanyothersallonthesamelines.Everyonewantedtobedoneby‘thegirlwhowasontheplane’.Everyonewasabletosaytotheirfriends,‘Mydear,positivelytoomarvellous.Thegirlatmyhairdresser’sisthegirl…Yes,IshouldgothereifIwereyou—theydoyourhairverywell…Jeanne,hernameis…ratheralittlething,bigeyes.She’lltellyouallaboutitifyouaskhernicely…’
BytheendoftheweekJanefelthernervesgivingwayunderthestrain.Sometimesshefeltthatifshehadtogothroughtherecitalonceagainshewouldscreamorattackherquestionerwiththedryer.
However,intheendshehituponabetterwayofrelievingherfeelings.SheapproachedM.Antoineandboldlydemandedariseofsalary.
‘Youaskthat?Youhavetheimpudence,whenitisonlyoutofkindnessofheartthatIkeepyouhere,afteryouhavebeenmixedupinamurdercase?Manymen,lesskindheartedthanI,wouldhavedismissedyouimmediately.’
‘That’snonsense,’saidJanecoolly.‘I’madrawinthisplaceandyouknowit.Ifyouwantmetogo,I’llgo.I’lleasilygetwhatIwantfromHenri’sortheMaisonRichet.’
‘Andwhoistoknowyouhavegonethere?Ofwhatimportanceareyouanyway?’
‘Imetoneortworeportersatthatinquest,’saidJane.‘Oneofthemwouldgivemychangeofestablishmentanypublicityneeded.’
Becausehefearedthatthiswasindeedso,grumblinglyM.AntoineagreedtoJane’sdemands.Gladysapplaudedherfriendheartily.
‘Goodforyou,dear,’shesaid.‘IkeyAndrewwasnomatchforyouthattime.Ifagirlcouldn’tfendforherselfabitIdon’tknowwherewe’dallbe.Grit,dear,that’swhatyou’vegot,andIadmireyouforit.’
‘Icanfightformyownhandallright,’saidJane,hersmallchinliftingitselfpugnaciously.‘I’vehadtoallmylife.’
‘Hardlines,dear,’saidGladys.‘ButkeepyourendupwithIkeyAndrew.Helikesyouallthebetterforit,really.Meeknessdoesn’tpayinthislife—butIdon’tthinkwe’reeitherofustroubledbytoomuchofthat.’
ThereafterJane’snarrative,repeateddailywithlittlevariation,sankintotheequivalentofapartplayedonthestage.
ThepromiseddinnerandtheatrewithNormanGalehaddulycomeoff.Itwasoneofthoseenchantingeveningswheneverywordandconfidenceexchangedseemedtorevealabondofsympathyandsharedtastes.
Theylikeddogsanddislikedcats.Theybothhatedoystersandlovedsmokedsalmon.TheylikedGretaGarboanddislikedKatharineHepburn.Theydidn’tlikefatwomenandadmiredreallyjet-blackhair.Theydislikedveryrednails.Theydislikedloudvoices,noisyrestaurantsandnegroes.Theypreferredbusestotubes.
Itseemedalmostmiraculousthattwopeopleshouldhavesomanypointsofagreement.
OnedayatAntoine’s,openingherbag,JaneletaletterfromNormanfallout.Asshepickeditupwithaslightlyheightenedcolour,Gladyspounceduponher.
‘Who’syourboyfriend,dear?’
‘Idon’tknowwhatyoumean,’retortedJane,hercolourrising.
‘Don’ttellme!Iknowthatletterisn’tfromyourmother’sgreat-uncle.Iwasn’tbornyesterday.Whoishe,Jane?’
‘It’ssomeone—aman—thatImetatLePinet.He’sadentist.’
‘Adentist,’saidGladyswithlivelydistaste.‘Isupposehe’sgotverywhiteteethandasmile.’
Janewasforcedtoadmitthatthiswasindeedthecase.
‘He’sgotaverybrownfaceandveryblueeyes.’
‘Anyonecanhaveabrownface,’saidGladys.‘Itmaybetheseasideoritmaycomeoutofabottle,2s.11d.atthechemist’s.HandsomeMenareSlightlyBronzed.Theeyessoundallright.Butadentist!Why,ifhewasgoingtokissyouyou’dfeelhewasgoingtosay,“Openalittlewider,please”.’
‘Don’tbeanidiot,Gladys.’
‘Youneedn’tbesotouchy,mydear.Iseeyou’vegotitbadly.Yes,MrHenry,I’mjustcoming…DratHenry!Thinkshe’sGodAlmighty,thewayheordersusgirlsabout!’
TheletterhadbeentosuggestdinneronSaturdayevening.Atlunch-timeonSaturdaywhenJanereceivedheraugmentedpayshefeltfullofhighspirits.
‘Andtothink,’saidJanetoherself,‘thatIwasworryingso,thatdaycomingoverintheaeroplane.Everything’sturnedoutbeautifully…Lifeisreallytoomarvellous.’
SofullofexuberancedidshefeelthatshedecidedtobeextravagantandlunchattheCornerHouseandenjoytheaccompanimentofmusictoherfood.
Sheseatedherselfatatableforfour,wheretherewerealreadyamiddle-agedwomanandayoungmansitting.Themiddle-agedwomanwasjustfinishingherlunch.Presentlyshecalledforherbill,pickedupalargecollectionofparcelsanddeparted.
Jane,aswashercustom,readabookassheate.Lookingupassheturnedapage,shenoticedtheyoungmanoppositeherstaringatherveryintently,andatthesamemomentrealizedthathisfacewasvaguelyfamiliartoher.
Justasshemadethesediscoveriestheyoungmancaughthereyeandbowed.
‘Excuseme,Mademoiselle,youdonotrecognizeme?’
Janelookedathimmoreattentively.Hehadafairboyish-lookingface,attractivemorebyreasonofitsextrememobilitythanbecauseofanyactualclaimtogoodlooks.
‘Wehavenotbeenintroduced,itistrue,’wentontheyoungman,‘unlessyoucallmurderanintroductionandthefactthatwebothgaveevidenceinthecoroner’scourt.’
‘Ofcourse,’saidJane.‘Howstupidofme!IthoughtIknewyourface.Youare—?’
‘JeanDupont,’saidthemanandgaveafunny,ratherengaginglittlebow.
AremembranceflashedintoJane’smindofadictumofGladys’s,expressedperhapswithoutunduedelicacy.
‘Ifthere’sonefellowafteryou,there’ssuretobeanother.SeemstobealawofNature.Sometimesit’sthreeorfour.’
NowJanehadalwaysledanaustere,hard-workinglife(ratherlikethedescriptionaftertheactofgirlswhoweremissing—‘Shewasabright,cheerfulgirlwithnomenfriends,etc.’).Janehadbeen‘abright,cheerfulgirlwithnomenfriends’.Nowitseemedthatmenfriendswererollingupallround.Therewasnodoubtaboutit,JeanDupont’sfaceasheleanedacrossthetableheldmorethanmereinterestedpoliteness.HewaspleasedtobesittingoppositeJane.Hewasmorethanpleased—hewasdelighted.
Janethoughttoherselfwithatouchofmisgiving:
‘He’sFrench,though.You’vegottolookoutwiththeFrench,theyalwayssayso.’
‘You’restillinEngland,then,’saidJane,andsilentlycursedherselffortheextremeinanityofherremark.
‘Yes.MyfatherhasbeentoEdinburghtogivealecturethere,andwehavestayedwithfriendsalso.Butnow—tomorrow—wereturntoFrance.’
‘Isee.’
‘Thepolice,theyhavenotmadeanarrestyet?’saidJeanDupont.
‘No,there’snotevenbeenanythingaboutitinthepaperslately.Perhapsthey’vegivenitup.’
JeanDupontshookhishead.‘No,no,theywillnothavegivenitup.Theyworksilently’—hemadeanexpressivegesture—‘inthedark.’
‘Don’t,’saidJaneuneasily.‘Yougivemethecreeps.’
‘Yes,itisnotaverynicefeeling,tohavebeensoclosewhenamurderwascommitted…’Headded,‘AndIwascloserthanyouwere.Iwasverycloseindeed.SometimesIdonotliketothinkofthat…’
‘Whodoyouthinkdidit?’askedJane.‘I’vewonderedandwondered.’
JeanDupontshruggedhisshoulders.
‘ItwasnotI.Shewasfartoougly!’
‘Well,’saidJane,‘Isupposeyouwouldratherkillanuglywomanthanagood-lookingone?’
‘Notatall.Ifawomanisgood-lookingyouarefondofher—shetreatsyoubadly—shemakesyoujealous,madwithjealousy.“Good,”yousay,“Iwillkillher.Itwillbeasatisfaction”.’
‘Andisitasatisfaction?’
‘That,Mademoiselle,Idonotknow,becauseIhavenotyettried.’Helaughed,thenshookhishead.‘ButanuglyoldwomanlikeGiselle—whowouldwanttobothertokillher?’
‘Well,that’sonewayoflookingatit,’saidJane.Shefrowned.‘Itseemsratherterrible,somehow,tothinkthatperhapsshewasyoungandprettyonce.’
‘Iknow,Iknow.’Hebecamesuddenlygrave.‘Itisthegreattragedyoflife,thatwomengrowold.’
‘Youseemtothinkalotaboutwomenandtheirlooks,’saidJane.
‘Naturally.Itisthemostinterestingsubjectpossible.ThatseemsstrangetoyoubecauseyouareEnglish.AnEnglishmanthinksfirstofhiswork—hisjob,hecallsit—andthenofhissport,andlast—agoodwaylast—ofhiswife.Yes,yes,itisreallyso.Why,imagine,inalittlehotelinSyriawasanEnglishmanwhosewifehadbeentakenill.HehimselfhadtobesomewhereinIraqbyacertaindate.Ehbien,wouldyoubelieveit,helefthiswifeandwentonsoastobe“onduty”intime.Andbothheandhiswifethoughtthatquitenatural;theythoughthimnoble,unselfish.Butthedoctor,whowasnotEnglish,thoughthimabarbarian.Awife,ahumanbeing—thatshouldcomefirst;todoone’sjob—thatissomethingmuchlessimportant.’
‘Idon’tknow,’saidJane.‘One’sworkhastocomefirst,Isuppose.’
‘Butwhy?Yousee,youtoohavethesamepointofview.Bydoingone’sworkoneobtainsmoney—byindulgingandlookingafterawomanonespendsit—sothelastismuchmorenobleanidealthanthefirst.’
Janelaughed.
‘Oh,well,’shesaid.‘IthinkI’dratherberegardedasamereluxuryandself-indulgence,thanregardedsternlyasaFirstDuty.I’dratheramanfeltthathewasenjoyinghimselflookingaftermethanthatheshouldfeelIwasadutytobeattendedto.’
‘Noone,Mademoiselle,wouldbelikelytofeelthatwithyou.’
Janeblushedslightlyattheearnestnessoftheyoungman’stone.Hewentontalkingquickly:
‘IhaveonlybeeninEnglandoncebefore.Itwasveryinterestingtometheotherdayatthe—inquest,youcallit?—tostudythreeyoungandcharmingwomen,allsodifferentfromoneanother.’
‘Whatdidyouthinkofusall?’askedJane,amused.
‘ThatLadyHorbury—bah,Iknowhertypewell.Itisveryexotic—very,veryexpensive.Youseeitsittingroundthebaccarattable—thesoftface—thehardexpression—andyouknow—youknowsowellwhatitwillbelikein,sayfifteenyears.Shelivesforsensation,thatone.Forhighplay,perhapsfordrugs…Aufond,sheisuninteresting!’
‘AndMissKerr?’
‘Ah,sheisvery,veryEnglish.SheisthekindthatanyshopkeeperontheRivierawillgivecreditto;theyareverydiscerning,ourshopkeepers.Herclothesareverywellcut,butratherlikeaman’s.Shewalksaboutasthoughsheownstheearth.Sheisnotconceitedaboutit—sheisjustanEnglishwoman.SheknowswhichdepartmentofEnglanddifferentpeoplecomefrom.Itistrue.IhaveheardoneslikeherinEgypt.“What?TheEtceterasarehere?TheYorkshireEtceteras?Oh,theShropshireEtceteras”.’
Hismimicrywasgood.Janelaughedatthedrawling,well-bredtones.
‘Andthen—me,’shesaid.
‘Andthenyou.AndIsaytomyself,“Hownice,howveryniceitwouldbeifIweretoseeheragainoneday.”AndhereIamsittingoppositeyou.Thegodsarrangethingsverywellsometimes.’
Janesaid,‘You’reanarchaeologist,aren’tyou?Youdigupthings?’
AndshelistenedwithkeenattentionwhileJeanDuponttalkedofhiswork.
Janegavealittlesighatlast.
‘You’vebeeninsomanycountries.You’veseensomuch.Itallsoundssofascinating.AndIshallnevergoanywhereorseeanything.’
‘Youwouldlikethat—togoabroad—toseewildpartsoftheearth?Youwouldnotbeabletogetyourhairwaved,remember.’
‘Itwavesbyitself,’saidJane,laughing.
Shelookedupattheclockandhastilysummonedthewaitressforherbill.
JeanDupontsaidwithalittleembarrassment,‘Mademoiselle,Iwonderifyouwouldpermit—asIhavetoldyou,IreturntoFrancetomorrow—ifyouwoulddinewithmetonight.’
‘I’msosorry,Ican’t.I’mdiningwithsomeone.’
‘Ah!I’msorry,verysorry.YouwillcomeagaintoParis,soon?’
‘Idon’texpectso.’
‘Andme,IdonotknowwhenIshallbeinLondonagain!Itissad!’
Hestoodamoment,holdingJane’shandinhis.
‘Ishallhopetoseeyouagain,verymuch,’hesaid,andsoundedasthoughhemeantit.
Chapter14
AtMuswellHill
AtaboutthetimethatJanewasleavingAntoine’s,NormanGalewassayinginaheartyprofessionaltone,‘Justalittletender,I’mafraid…GuidemeifIhurtyou—’
Hisexperthandguidedtheelectricdrill.
‘There,that’sallover.MissRoss?’
MissRosswasimmediatelyathiselbowstirringaminutewhiteconcoctiononaslab.
NormanGalecompletedhisfillingandsaid,‘Letmesee,it’snextTuesdayyou’recomingforthoseothers?’
Hispatient,rinsinghermouthardently,burstintoafluentexplanation.Shewasgoingaway—sosorry—wouldhavetocancelthenextappointment.Yes,shewouldlethimknowwhenshegotback.
Andsheescapedhurriedlyfromtheroom
‘Well,’saidGale,‘that’sallfortoday.’
MissRosssaid,‘LadyHigginsonranguptosayshemustgiveupherappointmentnextweek.Shewouldn’tmakeanother.Oh,andColonelBluntcan’tcomeonThursday.’
NormanGalenodded.Hisfacehardened.
Everydaywasthesame.Peopleringingup.Cancelledappointments.Allvarietiesofexcuses—goingaway—goingabroad—gotacold—maynotbehere—
Itdidn’tmatterwhatreasontheygave,therealreasonNormanhadjustseenquiteunmistakablyinhislastpatient’seyeashereachedforthedrill…alookofsuddenpanic…
Hecouldhavewrittendownthewoman’sthoughtsonpaper.
‘Oh,dear,ofcoursehewasinthataeroplanewhenthatwomanwasmurdered…Iwonder…Youdohearofpeoplegoingofftheirheadsanddoingthemostsenselesscrimes.Itreallyisn’tsafe.Themanmightbeahomicidallunatic.Theylookthesameasotherpeople,I’vealwaysheard…IbelieveIalwaysfelttherewasratherapeculiarlookinhiseye…’
‘Well,’saidGale,‘itlookslikebeingaquietweeknextweek,MissRoss.’
‘Yes,alotofpeoplehavedroppedout.Oh,well,youcandowitharest.Youworkedsohardearlierinthesummer.’
‘Itdoesn’tlookasthoughIweregoingtohaveachanceofworkingveryhardintheautumn,doesit?’
MissRossdidnotreply.Shewassavedfromhavingtodosobythetelephoneringing.Shewentoutoftheroomtoanswerit.
Normandroppedsomeinstrumentsintothesterilizer,thinkinghard.
‘Let’sseehowwestand.Nobeatingaboutthebush.Thisbusinesshasaboutdoneformeprofessionally.Funny,it’sdonewellforJane.Peoplecomeonpurposetogapeather.Cometothinkofit,that’swhat’swronghere—theyhavetogapeatme,andtheydon’tlikeit!Nastyhelplessfeelingyouhaveinadentist’schair.Ifthedentistweretorunamuck…
‘Whatastrangebusinessmurderis!You’dthinkitwasaperfectlystraightforwardissue—anditisn’t.Itaffectsallsortsofqueerthingsyou’dneverthinkof…Comebacktofacts.AsadentistIseemtobeaboutdonefor…Whatwouldhappen,Iwonder,iftheyarrestedtheHorburywoman?Wouldmypatientscometroopingback?Hardtosay.Oncetherot’ssetin…Oh,well,whatdoesitmatter?Idon’tcare.Yes,Ido—becauseofJane…Jane’sadorable.Iwanther.AndIcan’thaveher—yet…Adamnablenuisance.’
Hesmiled.‘Ifeelit’sgoingtobeallright…Shecares…She’llwait…Damnit,IshallgotoCanada—yes,that’sit—andmakemoneythere.’
Helaughedtohimself.
MissRosscamebackintotheroom.
‘ThatwasMrsLorrie.She’ssorry—’
‘—butshemaybegoingtoTimbuctoo,’finishedNorman.‘Vivelesrats!You’dbetterlookoutforanotherpost,MissRoss.Thisseemstobeasinkingship.’
‘Oh,MrGale,Ishouldn’tthinkofdesertingyou…’
‘Goodgirl.You’renotarat,anyway.ButseriouslyImeanit.Ifsomethingdoesn’thappentoclearupthismessI’mdonefor.’
‘Somethingoughttobedoneaboutit!’saidMissRosswithenergy.‘Ithinkthepolicearedisgraceful.They’renottrying.’
Normanlaughed.‘Iexpectthey’retryingallright.’
‘Somebodyoughttodosomething.’
‘Quiteright.I’veratherthoughtoftryingtodosomethingmyself—thoughIdon’tquiteknowwhat.’
‘Oh,MrGale,Ishould.You’resoclever.’
‘I’maherotothatgirlallright,’thoughtNormanGale.‘She’dliketohelpmeinmysleuthstuff;butI’vegotanotherpartnerinview.’
ItwasthatsameeveningthathedinedwithJane.Half-unconsciouslyhepretendedtobeinveryhighspirits,butJanewastooastutetobedeceived.Shenotedhissuddenmomentsofabsent-mindedness,thelittlefrownthatshowedbetweenhisbrows,thesuddenstrainedlineofhismouth.
Shesaidatlast,‘Norman,arethingsgoingbadly?’
Heshotaquickglanceather,thenlookedaway.
‘Well,nottoofrightfullywell.It’sabadtimeofyear.’
‘Don’tbeidiotic,’saidJanesharply.
‘Jane!’
‘Imeanit.Don’tyouthinkIcanseethatyou’reworriedtodeath?’
‘I’mnotworriedtodeath.I’mjustannoyed.’
‘Youmeanpeoplearefightingshy—’
‘Ofhavingtheirteethattendedtobyapossiblemurderer?Yes.’
‘Howcruellyunfair!’
‘Itis,rather.Becausefrankly,Jane,I’majollygooddentist.AndI’mnotamurderer.’
‘It’swicked.Somebodyoughttodosomething.’
‘That’swhatmysecretary,MissRoss,saidthismorning.’
‘What’sshelike?’
‘MissRoss?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh,Idon’tknow.Big—lotsofbones—noseratherlikearockinghorse—frightfullycompetent.’
‘Shesoundsquitenice,’saidJanegraciously.
Normanrightlytookthisasatributetohisdiplomacy.MissRoss’sboneswerenotreallyquiteasformidableasstated,andshehadanextremelyattractiveheadofredhair,buthefelt,andrightly,thatitwasjustaswellnottodwellonthelatterpointtoJane.
‘I’dliketodosomething,’hesaid.‘IfIwasayoungmaninabookI’dfindaclueorI’dshadowsomebody.’
Janetuggedsuddenlyathissleeve.
‘Look,there’sMrClancy—youknow,theauthor—sittingovertherebythewallbyhimself.Wemightshadowhim.’
‘Butweweregoingtotheflicks?’
‘Nevermindtheflicks.Ifeelsomehowthismightbemeant.Yousaidyouwantedtoshadowsomebody,andhere’ssomebodytoshadow.Youneverknow.Wemightfindoutsomething.’
Jane’senthusiasmwasinfectious.Normanfellinwiththeplanreadilyenough
‘Asyousay,oneneverknows,’hesaid.‘Whereaboutshashegottoinhisdinner?Ican’tseeproperlywithoutturningmyhead,andIdon’twanttostare.’
‘He’saboutlevelwithus,’saidJane.‘We’dbetterhurryabitandgetaheadandthenwecanpaythebillandbereadytoleavewhenhedoes.’
Theyadoptedthisplan.WhenatlastlittleMrClancyroseandpassedoutintoDeanStreet,NormanandJanewerefairlycloseonhisheels.
‘Incasehetakesataxi,’Janeexplained.
ButMrClancydidnottakeataxi.Carryinganovercoatoveronearm(and,occasionallyallowingittotrailontheground),heambledgentlythroughtheLondonstreets.Hisprogresswassomewhaterratic.Sometimeshemovedforwardatabrisktrot,sometimeshesloweddowntillhealmostcametoastop.Once,ontheverybrinkofcrossingaroad,hedidcometoastandstill,standingtherewithonefoothangingoverthekerbandlookingexactlylikeaslow-motionpicture.
Hisdirection,too,waserratic.Onceheactuallytooksomanyright-angleturnsthathetraversedthesamestreetstwiceover.
Janefeltherspiritsrise.
‘Yousee?’shesaidexcitedly.‘He’safraidofbeingfollowed.He’stryingtoputusoffthescent.’
‘Doyouthinkso?’
‘Ofcourse.Nobodywouldgoroundincirclesotherwise.’
‘Oh!’
Theyhadturnedacornerratherquicklyandhadalmostcannonedintotheirquarry.Hewasstandingstaringupatabutcher’sshop.Theshopitselfwasnaturallyclosed,butitseemedtobesomethingaboutthelevelofthefirstfloorthatwasrivetingMrClancy’sattention.
Hesaidaloud,‘Perfect.Theverything.Whatapieceofluck!’
Hetookoutalittlebookandwrotesomethingdownverycarefully.Thenhestartedoffagainatabriskpace,hummingalittletune.
HewasnowheadingdefinitelyforBloomsbury.Sometimes,whenheturnedhishead,thetwobehindcouldseehislipsmoving.
‘Thereissomethingup,’saidJane.‘He’singreatdistressofmind.He’stalkingtohimselfandhedoesn’tknowit.’
Ashewaitedtocrossbysometrafficlights,NormanandJanedrewabreast.
Itwasquitetrue;MrClancywastalkingtohimself.Hisfacelookedwhiteandstrained.NormanandJanecaughtafewmutteredwords:
‘Whydoesn’tshespeak?Why?Theremustbeareason…’
Thelightswentgreen.AstheyreachedtheoppositepavementMrClancysaid,‘Iseenow.Ofcourse.That’swhyshe’sgottobesilenced!’
JanepinchedNormanferociously.
MrClancysetoffatagreatpacenow.Theovercoatdraggedhopelessly.Withgreatstridesthelittleauthorcoveredtheground,apparentlyobliviousofthetwopeopleonhistracks.
Finally,withdisconcertingabruptness,hestoppedatahouse,openedthedoorwithakeyandwentin.
NormanandJanelookedateachother.
‘It’shisownhouse,’saidNorman.‘47CardingtonSquare.That’stheaddresshegaveattheinquest.’
‘Oh,well,’saidJane,‘perhapshe’llcomeoutagainbyandby.And,anyway,wehaveheardsomething.Somebody—awoman—isgoingtobesilenced,andsomeotherwomanwon’tspeak.Oh,dear,itsoundsdreadfullylikeadetectivestory.’
Avoicecameoutofthedarkness.‘Goodevening,’itsaid.
Theownerofthevoicesteppedforward.Apairofmagnificentmoustachesshowedinthelamplight.
‘Ehbien,’saidHerculePoirot.‘Afineeveningforthechase,isitnot?’
Chapter15
InBloomsbury
Ofthetwostartledyoungpeople,itwasNormanGalewhorecoveredhimselffirst.
‘Ofcourse,’hesaid,‘it’sMonsieur—MonsieurPoirot.Areyoustilltryingtoclearyourcharacter,M.Poirot?’
‘Ah,yourememberourlittleconversation?AnditisthepoorMrClancyyoususpect?’
‘Sodoyou,’saidJaneacutely,‘oryouwouldn’tbehere.’
Helookedatherthoughtfullyforamoment.
‘Haveyoueverthoughtaboutmurder,Mademoiselle?Thoughtaboutit,Imean,intheabstract—cold-bloodedlyanddispassionately?’
‘Idon’tthinkI’veeverthoughtaboutitatalluntiljustlately,’saidJane.
HerculePoirotnodded.
‘Yes,youthinkaboutitnowbecauseamurderhastouchedyoupersonally.Butme,Ihavedealtwithcrimeformanyyearsnow.Ihavemyownwayofregardingthings.Whatshouldyousaythemostimportantthingwastobearinmindwhenyouaretryingtosolveamurder?’
‘Findingthemurderer,’saidJane.
NormanGalesaid,‘Justice.’
Poirotshookhishead.‘Therearemoreimportantthingsthanfindingthemurderer.Andjusticeisafineword,butitissometimesdifficulttosayexactlywhatonemeansbyit.Inmyopiniontheimportantthingistocleartheinnocent.’
‘Oh,naturally,’saidJane.‘Thatgoeswithoutsaying.Ifanyoneisfalselyaccused—’
‘Noteventhat.Theremaybenoaccusation.Butuntilonepersonisprovedguiltybeyondanypossibledoubt,everyoneelsewhoisassociatedwiththecrimeisliabletosufferinvaryingdegrees.’
NormanGalesaidwithemphasis,‘Howtruethatis.’
Janesaid,‘Don’tweknowit!’
Poirotlookedfromonetotheother.
‘Isee.Alreadyyouhavebeenfindingthatoutforyourselves.’
Hebecamesuddenlybrisk.
‘Comenow,Ihaveaffairstoseeto.Sinceouraimsarethesame,wethree,letuscombinetogether.Iamabouttocalluponouringeniousfriend,MrClancy.IwouldsuggestthatMademoiselleaccompaniesme—intheguiseofmysecretary.Here,Mademoiselle,isanotebookandapencilfortheshorthand.’
‘Ican’twriteshorthand,’gaspedJane.
‘Butnaturallynot.Butyouhavethequickwits—theintelligence—youcanmakeplausiblesignsinpencilinthebook,canyounot?Good.AsforMrGale,Isuggestthathemeetsusin,say,anhour’stime.ShallwesayupstairsatMonseigneur’s?Bon!Wewillcomparenotesthen.’
Andforthwithheadvancedtothebellandpressedit.
Slightlydazed,Janefollowedhim,clutchingthenotebook.
Galeopenedhismouthasthoughtoprotest,thenseemedtothinkbetterofit.
‘Right,’hesaid.‘Inanhour,atMonseigneur’s.’
Thedoorwasopenedbyaratherforbidding-lookingelderlywomanattiredinsevereblack.
Poirotsaid,‘MrClancy?’
ShedrewbackandPoirotandJaneentered.
‘Whatname,sir?’
‘MrHerculePoirot.’
Theseverewomanledthemupstairsandintoaroomonthefirstfloor.
‘MrAirKulePrott,’sheannounced.
PoirotrealizedatoncetheforceofMrClancy’sannouncementatCroydontotheeffectthathewasnotatidyman.Theroom,alongone,withthreewindowsalongitslengthandshelvesandbookcasesontheotherwalls,wasinastateofchaos.Therewerepapersstrewnabout,cardboardfiles,bananas,bottlesofbeer,openbooks,sofacushions,atrombone,miscellaneouschina,etchings,andabewilderingassortmentoffountain-pens.
InthemiddleofthisconfusionMrClancywasstrugglingwithacameraandarolloffilm.
‘Dearme,’saidMrClancy,lookingupasthevisitorswereannounced.Heputthecameradownandtherolloffilmpromptlyfellonthefloorandunwounditself.Hecameforwardwithoutstretchedhand.‘Verygladtoseeyou,I’msure.’
‘Yourememberme,Ihope?’saidPoirot.‘Thisismysecretary,MissGrey.’
‘Howd’youdo,MissGrey.’HeshookherbythehandandthenturnedbacktoPoirot.‘Yes,ofcourseIrememberyou—atleast—now,wherewasitexactly?WasitattheSkullandCrossbonesClub?’
‘WewerefellowpassengersonanaeroplanefromParisonacertainfataloccasion.’
‘Why,ofcourse,’saidMrClancy.‘AndMissGreytoo!OnlyIhadn’trealizedshewasyoursecretary.Infact,Ihadsomeideathatshewasinabeautyparlour—somethingofthatkind.’
JanelookedanxiouslyatPoirot.
Thelatterwasquiteequaltothesituation.
‘Perfectlycorrect,’hesaid.‘Asanefficientsecretary,MissGreyhasattimestoundertakecertainworkofatemporarynature—youunderstand?’
‘Ofcourse,’saidMrClancy.‘Iwasforgetting.You’readetective—therealthing.NotScotlandYard.Privateinvestigation.Dositdown,MissGrey.No,notthere;Ithinkthere’sorangejuiceonthatchair.IfIshiftthisfile—Oh,dear,noweverything’stumbledout.Nevermind.Yousithere,M.Poirot—that’sright,isn’tit?—Poirot?Theback’snotreallybroken.Itonlycreaksalittleasyouleanagainstit.Well,perhapsit’sbestnottoleantoohard.Yes,aprivateinvestigatorlikemyWilbrahamRice.ThepublichavetakenverystronglytoWilbrahamRice.Hebiteshisnailsandeatsalotofbananas.Idon’tknowwhyImadehimbitehisnailstostartwith—it’sreallyratherdisgusting—butthereitis.Hestartedbybitinghisnails,andnowhehastodoitineverysinglebook.Somonotonous.Thebananasaren’tsobad;yougetabitoffunoutofthem—criminalsslippingontheskin.Ieatbananasmyself—that’swhatputitintomyhead.ButIdon’tbitemynails.Havesomebeer?’
‘Ithankyou,no.’
MrClancysighed,satdownhimself,andgazedearnestlyatPoirot.
‘Icanguesswhatyou’vecomeabout—themurderofGiselle.I’vethoughtandthoughtaboutthatcase.Youcansaywhatyoulike,it’samazing—poisoneddartsandablowpipeinanaeroplane.AnideaIhaveusedmyself,asItoldyou,bothinbookandshortstoryform.Ofcourseitwasaveryshockingoccurrence,butImustconfess,M.Poirot,thatIwasthrilled,positivelythrilled.’
‘Icanquitesee,’saidPoirot,‘thatthecrimemusthaveappealedtoyouprofessionally,MrClancy.’
MrClancybeamed.
‘Exactly.Youwouldthinkthatanyone—eventheofficialpolice—couldhaveunderstoodthat!Butnotatall.Suspicion—thatisallIgot,bothfromtheinspectorandattheinquest.Igooutofmywaytoassistthecourseofjustice,andallIgetformypainsispalpablethick-headedsuspicion!’
‘Allthesame,’saidPoirot,smiling,‘itdoesnotseemtoaffectyouverymuch.’
‘Ah,’saidMrClancy.‘But,yousee,Ihavemymethods,Watson.Ifyou’llexcusemycallingyouWatson.Nooffenceintended.Interesting,bytheway,howthetechniqueoftheidiotfriendhashungon.PersonallyImyselfthinktheSherlockHolmesstoriesgrosslyoverrated.Thefallacies—thereallyamazingfallaciesthatthereareinthosestories—ButwhatwasIsaying?’
‘Yousaidthatyouhadyourmethods.’
‘Ah,yes.’MrClancyleanedforward.‘I’mputtingthatinspector—whatishisname,Japp?—yes,I’mputtinghiminmynextbook.YoushouldseethewayWilbrahamRicedealswithhim.’
‘Inbetweenbananas,asonemightsay.’
‘Inbetweenbananas—that’sverygood,that.’MrClancychuckled.
‘Youhaveagreatadvantageasawriter,Monsieur,’saidPoirot.‘Youcanrelieveyourfeelingsbytheexpedientoftheprintedword.Youhavethepowerofthepenoveryourenemies.’
MrClancyrockedgentlybackinhischair.
‘Youknow,’hesaid,‘Ibegintothinkthismurderisgoingtobeareallyfortunatethingforme.I’mwritingthewholethingexactlyasithappened—onlyasfiction,ofcourse,andIshallcallitTheAirMailMystery.Perfectpenportraitsofallthepassengers.Itoughttoselllikewildfire—ifonlyIcangetitoutintime.’
‘Won’tyoubehadupforlibel,orsomething?’askedJane.
MrClancyturnedabeamingfaceuponher.
‘No,no,mydearlady.Ofcourse,ifIweretomakeoneofthepassengersthemurderer—well,then,Imightbeliablefordamages.Butthatisthestrongpartofitall—anentirelyunexpectedsolutionisrevealedinthelastchapter.’
Poirotleanedforwardeagerly.
‘Andthatsolutionis?’
AgainMrClancychuckled.
‘Ingenious,’hesaid.‘Ingeniousandsensational.Disguisedasthepilot,agirlgetsintotheplaneatLeBourgetandsuccessfullystowsherselfawayunderMadameGiselle’sseat.Shehaswithheranampouleofthenewestgas.Shereleasesthis—everybodybecomesunconsciousforthreeminutes—shesquirmsout—firesthepoisoneddart,andmakesaparachutedescentfromthereardoorofthecar.’
BothJaneandPoirotblinked.
Janesaid,‘Whydoesn’tshebecomeunconsciousfromthegastoo?’
‘Respirator,’saidMrClancy.
‘AndshedescendsintotheChannel?’
‘Itneedn’tbetheChannel—IshallmakeittheFrenchcoast.’
‘And,anyway,nobodycouldhideunderaseat;therewouldn’tberoom.’
‘Therewillberoominmyaeroplane,’saidMrClancyfirmly.
‘Epatant,’saidPoirot.‘Andthemotiveofthelady?’
‘Ihaven’tquitedecided,’saidMrClancymeditatively.‘ProbablyGiselleruinedthegirl’slover,whokilledhimself.’
‘Andhowdidshegetholdofthepoison?’
‘That’sthereallycleverpart,’saidMrClancy.‘Thegirl’sasnakecharmer.Sheextractsthestufffromherfavouritepython.’
‘MonDieu!’saidHerculePoirot.
Hesaid,‘Youdon’tthink,perhaps,itisjustalittlesensational?’
‘Youcan’twriteanythingtoosensational,’saidMrClancyfirmly.‘Especiallywhenyou’redealingwiththearrowpoisonoftheSouthAmericanIndians.Iknowitwassnakejuice,really;buttheprincipleisthesame.Afterall,youdon’twantadetectivestorytobelikereallife?Lookatthethingsinthepapers—dullasditchwater.’
‘Come,now,Monsieur,wouldyousaythislittleaffairofoursisdullasditchwater?’
‘No,’admittedMrClancy.‘Sometimes,youknow,Ican’tbelieveitreallyhappened.’
Poirotdrewthecreakingchairalittlenearertohishost.Hisvoicelowereditselfconfidentially.
‘M.Clancy,youareamanofbrainsandimagination.Thepolice,asyousay,haveregardedyouwithsuspicion.Theyhavenotsoughtyouradvice.ButI,HerculePoirot,desiretoconsultyou.’
MrClancyflushedwithpleasure.
‘I’msurethat’sveryniceofyou.’
Helookedflusteredandpleased.
‘Youhavestudiedthecriminology.Yourideaswillbeofvalue.Itwouldbeofgreatinteresttometoknowwho,inyouropinion,committedthecrime.’
‘Well—’MrClancyhesitated,reachedautomaticallyforabananaandbegantoeatit.Then,theanimationdyingoutofhisface,heshookhishead.‘Yousee,M.Poirot,it’sanentirelydifferentthing.Whenyou’rewritingyoucanmakeitanyoneyoulike;but,ofcourse,inreallifethereisarealperson.Youhaven’tanycommandoverthefacts.I’mafraid,youknow,thatI’dbeabsolutelynogoodasarealdetective.’
Heshookhisheadsadlyandthrewthebananaskinintothegrate.
‘Itmightbeamusing,however,toconsiderthecasetogether?’suggestedPoirot.
‘Oh,that,yes.’
‘Tobeginwith,supposingyouhadtomakeasportingguess,whowouldyouchoose?’
‘Oh,well,IsupposeoneofthetwoFrenchmen.’
‘Now,why?’
‘Well,shewasFrench.Itseemsmorelikely,somehow.Andtheyweresittingontheoppositesidenottoofarawayfromher.ButreallyIdon’tknow.’
‘Itdepends,’saidPoirotthoughtfully,‘somuchonmotive.’
‘Ofcourse—ofcourse.Isupposeyoutabulateallthemotivesveryscientifically?’
‘Iamold-fashionedinmymethods.Ifollowtheoldadage:seekwhomthecrimebenefits.’
‘That’sallverywell,’saidMrClancy.‘ButItakeitthat’salittledifficultinacaselikethis.There’sadaughterwhocomesintomoney,soI’veheard.Butalotofthepeopleonboardmightbenefit,forallweknow—thatisiftheyowedhermoneyandhaven’tgottopayitback.’
‘True,’saidPoirot.‘AndIcanthinkofothersolutions.LetussupposethatMadameGiselleknewofsomething—attemptedmurder,shallwesay?—onthepartofoneofthosepeople.’
‘Attemptedmurder?’saidMrClancy.‘Now,whyattemptedmurder?Whataverycurioussuggestion.’
‘Incasessuchasthese,’saidPoirot,‘onemustthinkofeverything.’
‘Ah!’saidMrClancy.‘Butit’snogoodthinking.You’vegottoknow.’
‘Youhavereason—youhavereason.Averyjustobservation.’
Thenhesaid,‘Iaskyourpardon,butthisblowpipethatyoubought—’
‘Damnthatblowpipe,’saidMrClancy.‘IwishI’dnevermentionedit.’
‘Youboughtit,yousay,atashopintheCharingCrossRoad?Doyou,byanychance,rememberthenameofthatshop?’
‘Well,’saidMrClancy,‘itmighthavebeenAbsolom’s—orthere’sMitchell&Smith.Idon’tknow.ButI’vealreadytoldallthistothatpestilentialinspector.Hemusthavecheckeduponitbythistime.’
‘Ah,’saidPoirot,‘butIaskforquiteanotherreason.Idesiretopurchasesuchathingandmakealittleexperiment.’
‘Oh,Isee.ButIdon’tknowthatyou’llfindoneallthesame.Theydon’tkeepsetsofthem,youknow.’
‘AllthesameIcantry.Perhaps,MissGrey,youwouldbesoobligingastotakedownthosetwonames?’
Janeopenedhernotebookandrapidlyperformedaseriesof(shehoped)professional-lookingsquiggles.ThenshesurreptitiouslywrotethenamesinlonghandonthereversesideofthesheetincasetheseinstructionsofPoirot’sshouldbegenuine.
‘Andnow,’saidPoirot,‘Ihavetrespassedonyourtimetoolong.Iwilltakemydeparturewithathousandthanksforyouramiability.’
‘Notatall.Notatall,’saidMrClancy.‘Iwishyouwouldhavehadabanana.’
‘Youaremostamiable.’
‘Notatall.Asamatteroffact,I’mfeelingratherhappytonight.I’dbeenheldupinashortstoryIwaswriting—thethingwouldn’tpanoutproperly,andIcouldn’tgetagoodnameforthecriminal.Iwantedsomethingwithaflavour.Well,justabitofluck,IsawjustthenameIwantedoverabutcher’sshop.Pargiter.JustthenameIwaslookingfor.There’sasortofgenuinesoundtoit;andaboutfiveminuteslaterIgottheotherthing.There’salwaysthesamesnaginstories—whywon’tthegirlspeak?Theyoungmantriestomakeherandshesaysherlipsaresealed.There’sneveranyrealreason,ofcourse,whysheshouldn’tblurtoutthewholethingatonce,butyouhavetotrytothinkofsomethingthat’snottoodefinitelyidiotic.Unfortunatelyithastobeadifferentthingeverytime!’
HesmiledgentlyatJane.
‘Thetrialsofanauthor!’
Hedartedpasthertoabookcase.
‘Onethingyoumustallowmetogiveyou.’
Hecamebackwithabookinhishand.
‘TheClueoftheScarletPetal.IthinkImentionedatCroydonthatthatbookofminedealtwitharrowpoisonandnativedarts.’
‘Athousandthanks.Youaretooamiable.’
‘Notatall.Isee,’saidMrClancysuddenlytoJane,‘thatyoudon’tusethePitmansystemofshorthand.’
Janeflushedscarlet.Poirotcametoherrescue.
‘MissGreyisveryuptodate.SheusesthemostrecentsysteminventedbyaCzecho-Slovakian.’
‘Youdon’tsayso?WhatanamazingplaceCzecho-Slovakiamustbe.Everythingseemstocomefromthere—shoes,glass,gloves,andnowashorthandsystem.Quiteamazing.’
Heshookhandswiththemboth.
‘IwishIcouldhavebeenmorehelpful.’
Theylefthiminthelitteredroomsmilingwistfullyafterthem.
Chapter16
PlanofCampaign
FromMrClancy’shousetheytookataxitotheMonseigneur,wheretheyfoundNormanGaleawaitingthem.
Poirotorderedsomeconsomméandachaud-froidofchicken.
‘Well?’saidNorman.‘Howdidyougeton?’
‘MissGrey,’saidPoirot,‘hasprovedherselfthesuper-secretary.’
‘Idon’tthinkIdidsoverywell,’saidJane.‘Hespottedmystuffwhenhepassedbehindme.Youknow,hemustbeveryobservant.’
‘Ah,younoticedthat?ThisgoodMrClancyisnotquitesoabsent-mindedasonemightimagine.’
‘Didyoureallywantthoseaddresses?’askedJane.
‘Ithinktheymightbeuseful—yes.’
‘Butifthepolice—’
‘Ah,thepolice!Ishouldnotaskthesamequestionsasthepolicehaveasked.Though,asamatteroffact,Idoubtwhetherthepolicehaveaskedanyquestionsatall.Yousee,theyknowthattheblowpipefoundintheplanewaspurchasedinParisbyanAmerican.’
‘InParis?AnAmerican?Buttherewasn’tanyAmericanintheaeroplane.’
Poirotsmiledkindlyonher.
‘Precisely.WehavehereanAmericanjusttomakeitmoredifficult.Voilàtout.’
‘Butitwasboughtbyaman?’saidNorman.
Poirotlookedathimwithratheranoddexpression.
‘Yes,’hesaid,‘itwasboughtbyaman.’
Normanlookedpuzzled.
‘Anyway,’saidJane,‘itwasn’tMrClancy.He’dgotoneblowpipealready,sohewouldn’twanttogoaboutbuyinganother.’
Poirotnoddedhishead.
‘Thatishowonemustproceed.Suspecteveryoneinturnandthenwipehimorheroffthelist.’
‘Howmanyhaveyouwipedoffsofar?’askedJane.
‘Notsomanyasyoumightthink,Mademoiselle,’saidPoirotwithatwinkle.‘Itdepends,yousee,onthemotive.’
‘Hastherebeen—?’NormanGalestoppedandthenaddedapologetically:‘Idon’twanttobuttinonofficialsecrets,butistherenorecordofthiswoman’sdealings?’
Poirotshookhishead.
‘Alltherecordsareburnt.’
‘That’sunfortunate.’
‘Evidemment!ButitseemsthatMadameGisellecombinedalittleblackmailingwithherprofessionofmoneylending,andthatopensupawiderfield.Supposing,forinstance,thatMadameGisellehadknowledgeofacertaincriminaloffence—say,attemptedmurderonthepartofsomeone.’
‘Isthereanyreasontosupposesuchathing?’
‘Why,yes,’saidPoirotslowly.‘Thereis—oneofthefewpiecesofdocumentaryevidencethatwehaveinthiscase.’
Helookedfromonetotheotheroftheirinterestedfacesandgavealittlesigh.
‘Ah,well,’hesaid,‘thatisthat.Letustalkofothermatters—forinstance,ofhowthistragedyhasaffectedthelivesofyoutwoyoungpeople.’
‘Itsoundshorribletosayso,butI’vedonewelloutofit,’saidJane.
Sherelatedherriseofsalary.
‘Asyousay,Mademoiselle,youhavedonewell,butprobablyonlyforthetimebeing.Evenanine-days’wonderdoesnotlastlongerthanninedays,remember.’
Janelaughed.‘That’sverytrue.’
‘I’mafraidit’sgoingtolastmorethanninedaysinmycase,’saidNorman.
Heexplainedtheposition.Poirotlistenedsympathetically.
‘Asyousay,’heobservedthoughtfully,‘itwilltakemorethanninedays—ornineweeks—orninemonths.Sensationalismdiesquickly—fearislong-lived.’
‘DoyouthinkIoughttostickitout?’
‘Haveyouanyotherplan?’
‘Yes—chuckupthewholething.GoouttoCanadaorsomewhereandstartagain.’
‘I’msurethatwouldbeapity,’saidJanefirmly.
Normanlookedather.
Poirottactfullybecameengrossedwithhischicken.
‘Idon’twanttogo,’saidNorman.
‘IfIdiscoverwhokilledMadameGiselle,youwillnothavetogo,’saidPoirotcheerfully.
‘Doyoureallythinkyouwill?’askedJane.
Poirotlookedatherreproachfully.
‘Ifoneapproachesaproblemwithorderandmethodthereshouldbenodifficultyinsolvingit—nonewhatever,’saidPoirotseverely.
‘Oh,Isee,’saidJane,whodidn’t.
‘ButIshouldsolvethisproblemquickerifIhadhelp,’saidPoirot.
‘Whatkindofhelp?’
Poirotdidnotspeakforamomentortwo.Thenhesaid:
‘HelpfromMrGale.Andperhaps,later,helpfromyoualso.’
‘WhatcanIdo?’askedNorman.
Poirotshotasidewaysglanceathim.
‘Youwillnotlikeit,’hesaidwarningly.
‘Whatisit?’repeatedtheyoungmanimpatiently.
Verydelicately,soasnottooffendEnglishsusceptibilities,Poirotusedatoothpick.Thenhesaid:‘Frankly,whatIneedisablackmailer.’
‘Ablackmailer?’exclaimedNorman.HestaredatPoirotasamandoeswhocannotbelievehisears.
Poirotnodded.
‘Precisely,’hesaid.‘Ablackmailer.’
‘Butwhatfor?’
‘Parbleu!Toblackmail.’
‘Yes,butImeanwho?Why?’
‘Why,’saidPoirot,‘ismybusiness.Astowhom—’Hepausedforamoment,thenwentoninacalmbusiness-liketone:
‘HereistheplanIwilloutlineforyou.Youwillwriteanote—thatistosay,Iwillwriteanoteandyouwillcopyit—totheCountessofHorbury.Youwillmarkit“Personal”.Inthenoteyouwillaskforaninterview.YouwillrecallyourselftohermemoryashavingtravelledtoEnglandbyaironacertainoccasion.YouwillalsorefertocertainbusinessdealingsofMadameGiselle’shavingpassedintoyourhands.’
‘Andthen?’
‘Andthenyouwillbeaccordedaninterview.Youwillgoandyouwillsaycertainthings(inwhichIwillinstructyou).Youwillaskfor—letmesee—tenthousandpounds.’
‘You’remad!’
‘Notatall,’saidPoirot.‘Iameccentric,possibly,butmad,no.’
‘AndsupposeLadyHorburysendsforthepolice?Ishallgotoprison.’
‘Shewillnotsendforthepolice.’
‘Youcan’tknowthat.’
‘Moncher,practicallyspeaking,Iknoweverything.’
‘And,anyway,Idon’tlikeit.’
‘Youwillnotgetthetenthousandpounds—ifthatmakesyourconscienceanyclearer,’saidPoirotwithatwinkle.
‘Yes,butlookhere,M.Poirot—thisisthesortofwildcatschemethatmightruinmeforlife.’
‘Ta—ta—ta—theladywillnotgotothepolice—thatIassureyou.’
‘Shemaytellherhusband.’
‘Shewillnottellherhusband.’
‘Idon’tlikeit.’
‘Doyoulikelosingyourpatientsandruiningyourcareer?’
‘No,but—’
Poirotsmiledathimkindly.
‘Youhavethenaturalrepugnance,yes?Thatisverynatural.Youhave,too,thechivalrousspirit.ButIcanassureyouthatLadyHorburyisnotworthallthisfinefeeling—touseyouridiomsheisaverynastypieceofgoods.’
‘Allthesame,shecan’tbeamurderess.’
‘Why?’
‘Why?Becauseweshouldhaveseenher.JaneandIweresittingjustopposite.’
‘Youhavetoomanypreconceivedideas.Me,Idesiretostraightenthingsout;andtodothatImustknow.’
‘Idon’tliketheideaofblackmailingawoman.’
‘Ah,monDieu—whatthereisinaword!Therewillbenoblackmail.Youhaveonlytoproduceacertaineffect.Afterthat,whenthegroundisprepared,Iwillstepin.’
Normansaid,‘Ifyoulandmeinprison—’
‘No,no,no,IamverywellknownatScotlandYard.IfanythingshouldoccurIwilltaketheblame.ButnothingwilloccurotherthanwhatIhaveprophesied.’
Normansurrenderedwithasigh.
‘Allright.I’lldoit.ButIdon’thalflikeit.’
‘Good.Thisiswhatyouwillwrite.Takeapencil.’
Hedictatedslowly.
‘Voilà,’hesaid.‘LaterIwillinstructyouastowhatyouaretosay.Tellme,Mademoiselle,doyouevergotothetheatre?’
‘Yes,fairlyoften,’saidJane.
‘Good.Haveyouseen,forinstance,aplaycalledDownUnder?’
‘Yes.Isawitaboutamonthago.It’srathergood.’
‘AnAmericanplay,isitnot?’
‘Yes.’
‘DoyourememberthepartofHarry,playedbyMrRaymondBarraclough?’
‘Yes.Hewasverygood.’
‘Youthoughthimattractive?Yes?’
‘Frightfullyattractive.’
‘Ah,ilalesexappeal?’
‘Decidedly,’saidJane,laughing.
‘Justthat—orisheagoodactoraswell?’
‘Oh,Ithinkheactswelltoo.’
‘Imustgoandseehim,’saidPoirot.
Janestaredathim,puzzled.
Whatanoddlittlemanhewas—hoppingfromsubjecttosubjectlikeabirdfromonebranchtoanother!
Perhapshereadherthoughts.Hesmiled:
‘Youdonotapproveofme,Mademoiselle?Ofmymethods?’
‘Youjumpaboutagooddeal.’
‘Notreally.Ipursuemycourselogicallywithorderandmethod.Onemustnotjumpwildlytoaconclusion.Onemusteliminate.’
‘Eliminate?’saidJane.‘Isthatwhatyou’redoing?’Shethoughtamoment.‘Isee.You’veeliminatedMrClancy—’
‘Perhaps,’saidPoirot.
‘Andyou’veeliminatedus;andnowyou’regoing,perhaps,toeliminateLadyHorbury.Oh!’
Shestoppedasasuddenthoughtstruckher.
‘Whatisit,Mademoiselle?’
‘Thattalkofattemptedmurder?Wasthatatest?’
‘Youareveryquick,Mademoiselle.Yes,thatwaspartofthecourseIpursue.ImentionattemptedmurderandIwatchMrClancy,Iwatchyou,IwatchMrGale—andinneitherofyouthreeisthereanysign—notsomuchastheflickerofaneyelash.AndletmetellyouthatIcouldnotbedeceivedonthatpoint.Amurderercanbereadytomeetanyattackthatheforesees.Butthatentryinalittlenotebookcouldnothavebeenknowntoanyofyou.So,yousee,Iamsatisfied.’
‘Whatahorrible,trickysortofpersonyouare,M.Poirot,’saidJane,rising.‘Ishallneverknowwhyyouaresayingthings.’
‘Thatisquitesimple.Iwanttofindoutthings.’
‘Isupposeyou’vegotverycleverwaysoffindingoutthings?’
‘Thereisonlyonereallysimpleway.’
‘Whatisthat?’
‘Toletpeopletellyou.’
Janelaughed.
‘Supposetheydon’twantto?’
‘Everyonelikestalkingaboutthemselves.’
‘Isupposetheydo,’admittedJane.
‘Thatishowmanyaquackmakesafortune.Heencouragespatientstocomeandsitandtellhimthings.Howtheyfelloutoftheperambulatorwhentheyweretwo,andhowtheirmotherateapearandthejuicefellonherorangedress,andhowwhentheywereoneandahalftheypulledtheirfather’sbeard;andthenhetellsthemthatnowtheywillnotsufferfromtheinsomniaanylonger,andhetakestwoguineas;andtheygoaway,havingenjoyedthemselves—oh,somuch—andperhapstheydosleep.’
‘Howridiculous,’saidJane.
‘No,itisnotsoridiculousasyouthink.Itisbasedonafundamentalneedofhumannature—theneedtotalk—torevealoneself.Youyourself,Mademoiselle,doyounotliketodwellonyourchildhoodmemories—onyourmotherandyourfather?’
‘Thatdoesn’tapplyinmycase.Iwasbroughtupinanorphanage.’
‘Ah,thatisdifferent.Itisnotgay,that.’
‘Idon’tmeanthatwewerethekindofcharityorphanswhogooutinscarletbonnetsandcloaks.Itwasquitefunreally.’
‘ItwasinEngland?’
‘No,inIreland—nearDublin.’
‘SoyouareIrish.Thatiswhyyouhavethedarkhairandtheblue-greyeyes,withthelook—’
‘Asthoughtheyhadbeenputinwithasmuttyfinger—’Normanfinishedwithamusement.
‘Comment?Whatisthatyousay?’
‘ThatisasayingaboutIrisheyes—thattheyhavebeenputinwithasmuttyfinger.’
‘Really?Itisnotelegant,that.Andyet—itexpressesitwell.’HebowedtoJane.‘Theeffectisverygood,Mademoiselle.’
Janelaughedasshegotup.
‘You’llturnmyhead,M.Poirot.Goodnight,andthankyouforsupper.You’llhavetostandmeanotherifNormanissenttoprisonforblackmail.’
AfrowncameoverNorman’sfaceatthereminder.
Poirotbadethetwoyoungpeoplegoodnight.
Whenhegothomeheunlockedadrawerandtookoutalistofelevennames.
Againstfourofthesenamesheputalighttick.Thenhenoddedhisheadthoughtfully.
‘IthinkIknow,’hemurmuredtohimself.‘ButIhavegottobesure.Ilfautcontinuer.’
Chapter17
InWandsworth
MrHenryMitchellwasjustsittingdowntoasupperofsausageandmashwhenavisitorcalledtoseehim.
Somewhattothesteward’sastonishmentthevisitorinquestionwasthefull-moustachedgentlemanwhohadbeenoneofthepassengersonthefatalplane.
M.Poirotwasveryaffable,veryagreeableinhismanner.HeinsistedonMrMitchell’sgettingonwithhissupper,paidagracefulcomplimenttoMrsMitchell,whowasstandingstaringathimopen-mouthed.
Heacceptedachair,remarkedthatitwasverywarmforthetimeofyearandthengentlycameroundtothepurposeofhiscall.
‘ScotlandYard,Ifear,isnotmakingmuchprogresswiththecase,’hesaid.
Mitchellshookhishead.
‘Itwasanamazingbusiness,sir—amazing.Idon’tseewhatthey’vegottogoon.Why,ifnoneofthepeopleontheplanesawanything,it’sgoingtobedifficultforanyoneafterwards.’
‘Truly,asyousay.’
‘Terriblyworried,Henry’sbeen,overit,’putinhiswife.‘Notabletosleepofnights.’
Thestewardexplained:
‘It’slainonmymind,sir,somethingterrible.Thecompanyhavebeenveryfairaboutit.ImustsayIwasafraidatfirstImightlosemyjob—’
‘Henry,theycouldn’t.Itwouldhavebeencruellyunfair.’
Hiswifesoundedhighlyindignant.Shewasabuxom,highly-complexionedwomanwithsnappingdarkeyes.
‘Thingsdon’talwayshappenfairly,Ruth.StillitturnedoutbetterthanIthought.Theyabsolvemefromblame.ButIfeltit,ifyouunderstandme.Iwasincharge,asitwere.’
‘Iunderstandyourfeelings,’saidPoirotsympathetically.‘ButIassureyouthatyouareover-conscientious.Nothingthathappenedwasyourfault.’
‘That’swhatIsay,sir,’putinMrsMitchell.
Mitchellshookhishead.
‘Ioughttohavenoticedthattheladywasdeadsooner.IfI’dtriedtowakeherupwhenIfirsttookroundthebills—’
‘Itwouldhavemadelittledifference.Death,theythink,wasverynearlyinstantaneous.’
‘Heworriesso,’saidMrsMitchell.‘Itellhimnottobotherhisheadso.Who’stoknowwhatreasonforeignershaveformurderingeachother;andifyouaskme,Ithinkit’sadirtytricktohavedoneitinaBritishaeroplane.’
Shefinishedhersentencewithanindignantandpatrioticsnort.
Mitchellshookhisheadinapuzzledway.
‘Itweighsonme,sotospeak.EverytimeIgoondutyI’minastate.AndthenthegentlemanfromScotlandYardaskingmeagainandagainifnothingunusualorsuddenoccurredonthewayover.MakesmefeelasthoughImusthaveforgottensomething—andyetIknowIhaven’t.Itwasamostuneventfulvoyageineverywayuntil—untilithappened.’
‘Blowpipesanddarts—heathen,Icallit,’saidMrsMitchell.
‘Youareright,’saidPoirot,addressingherwithaflatteringairofbeingstruckbyherremarks.‘NotsoisanEnglishmurdercommitted.’
‘You’reright,sir.’
‘Youknow,MrsMitchell,IcanalmostguesswhatpartofEnglandyoucomefrom.’
‘Dorset,sir.NotfarfromBridport.That’smyhome.’
‘Exactly,’saidPoirot.‘Alovelypartoftheworld.’
‘Itisthat.Londonisn’tapatchonDorset.MyfolkhavebeensettledinDorsetforovertwohundredyears—andI’vegotDorsetintheblood,asyoumightsay.’
‘Yes,indeed.’Heturnedtothestewardagain.‘There’sonethingI’dliketoaskyou,Mitchell.’
Theman’sbrowcontracted.
‘I’vetoldyouallthatIknow—indeedIhave,sir.’
‘Yes,yes—thisisaverytriflingmatter.Ionlywonderedifanythingonthetable—MadameGiselle’stable,Imean—wasdisarranged?’
‘Youmeanwhen—whenIfoundher?’
‘Yes.Thespoonsandforks—thesaltcellar—anythinglikethat.’
Themanshookhishead.
‘Therewasn’tanythingofthatkindonthetables.Everythingwasclearedawaybarthecoffeecups.Ididn’tnoticeanythingmyself.Ishouldn’t,though.Iwasmuchtooflustered.Butthepolicewouldknowthat,sir,theysearchedtheplanethroughandthrough.’
‘Ah,well,’saidPoirot.‘Itisnomatter.SometimeImusthaveawordwithyourcolleague—Davis.’
‘He’sontheearly8.45amservicenow,sir.’
‘Hasthisbusinessupsethimmuch?’
‘Oh,well,sir,youseehe’sonlyayoungfellow.Ifyouaskme,he’salmostenjoyeditall.Theexcitement,andeveryonestandinghimdrinksandwantingtohearaboutit.’
‘Hasheperhapsayounglady?’askedPoirot.‘Doubtlesshisconnexionwiththecrimewouldbeverythrillingtoher.’
‘He’scourtingoldJohnson’sdaughterattheCrownandFeathers,’saidMrsMitchell.‘Butshe’sasensiblegirl—gotherheadscrewedontherightway.Shedoesn’tapproveofbeingmixedupwithamurder.’
‘Averysoundpointofview,’saidPoirot,rising.‘Well,thankyou,MrMitchell—andyou,MrsMitchell—andIbegofyou,myfriend,donotletthisweighuponyourmind.’
WhenhehaddepartedMitchellsaid,‘Thethickheadsinthejuryattheinquestthoughthe’ddoneit.Butifyouaskme,he’ssecretservice.’
‘Ifyouaskme,’saidMrsMitchell,‘there’sBolshiesatthebackofit.’
Poirothadsaidthathemusthaveawordwiththeothersteward,Davis,sometime.Asamatteroffacthehaditnotmanyhourslater,inthebaroftheCrownandFeathers.
HeaskedDavisthesamequestionhehadaskedMitchell.
‘Nothingdisarranged—no,sir.Youmeanupset?Thatkindofthing?’
‘Imean—well,shallwesaysomethingmissingfromthetable—orsomethingthatwouldnotusuallybethere—’
Davissaidslowly:
‘Therewassomething—InoticeditwhenIwasclearingup,afterthepolicehaddonewiththeplace—butIdon’tsupposethatit’sthesortofthingyoumean.It’sonlythatthedeadladyhadtwocoffeespoonsinhersaucer.Itdoessometimeshappenwhenwe’reservinginahurry.Inoticeditbecausethere’sasuperstitionaboutthat;theysaytwospoonsinasaucermeansawedding.’
‘Wasthereaspoonmissingfromanyoneelse’ssaucer?’
‘No,sir,notthatInoticed.MitchellorImusthavetakenthecupandsauceralongthatway—asIsayonedoessometimeswhatwiththehurryandall.Ilaidtwosetsoffishknivesandforksonlyaweekago.Onthewholeit’sbetterthanlayingthetableshort,forthenyouhavetointerruptyourselfandgoandfetchtheextraknife,orwhateveritisyou’veforgotten.’
Poirotaskedonemorequestion—asomewhatjocularone:
‘WhatdoyouthinkofFrenchgirls,Davis?’
‘Englisharegoodenoughforme,sir.’
Andhegrinnedataplump,fair-hairedgirlbehindthebar.
Chapter18
InQueenVictoriaStreet
MrJamesRyderwasrathersurprisedwhenacardbearingthenameofM.HerculePoirotwasbroughttohim.
Heknewthatthenamewasfamiliar,butforthemomenthecouldnotrememberwhy.Thenhesaidtohimself:
‘Oh,thatfellow!’andtoldtheclerktoshowthevisitorin.
M.HerculePoirotwaslookingveryjaunty.Inonehandhecarriedacane,hehadaflowerinhisbuttonhole.
‘Youwillforgivemytroublingyou,Itrust,’saidPoirot.‘ItisthisaffairofthedeathofMadameGiselle.’
‘Yes?’saidMrRyder.‘Well,whataboutit?Sitdown,won’tyou?Haveacigar?’
‘Ithankyou,no.Ismokemyowncigarettes.Perhapsyouwillacceptone?’
RyderregardedPoirot’stinycigaretteswithasomewhatdubiouseye.
‘ThinkI’llhaveoneofmyown,ifit’sallthesametoyou.Mightswallowoneofthosebymistake.’Helaughedheartily.
‘Theinspectorwasroundhereafewdaysago,’saidMrRyderwhenhehadinducedhislightertowork.‘Nosey,that’swhatthosefellowsare.Can’tmindtheirownbusiness.’
‘Theyhave,Isuppose,togetinformation,’saidPoirotmildly.
‘Theyneedn’tbesodamnedoffensiveaboutit,’saidMrRyderbitterly.‘Aman’sgothisfeelings—andhisbusinessreputationtothinkabout.’
‘Youare,perhaps,alittleover-sensitive.’
‘I’minadelicateposition,Iam,’saidMrRyder.‘SittingwhereIdid,justinfrontofher—well,itlooksfishy,Isuppose.Ican’thelpwhereIsat.IfI’dknownthatwomanwasgoingtobemurderedIwouldn’thavecomebythatplaneatall.Idon’tknow,though,perhapsIwould.’
Helookedthoughtfulforamoment.
‘Hasgoodcomeoutofevil?’askedPoirot,smiling.
‘It’sfunnyyoursayingthat.Ithas,andithasn’t,inamannerofspeaking.ImeanI’vehadalotofworry.I’vebeenbadgered.Thingshavebeeninsinuated.Andwhyme?That’swhatIsay.Whydon’ttheygoandworrythatDrHubbard—Bryant,Imean.Doctorsarethepeoplewhocangetholdofhigh-falutin’undetectablepoisons.How’dIgetholdofsnakejuice?Iaskyou!’
‘Youweresaying,’saidPoirot,‘thatalthoughyouhadbeenputtoalotofinconvenience—?’
‘Ah,yes,therewasabrightsidetothepicture.Idon’tmindtellingyouIcleanedupatidylittlesumfromthepapers.Eyewitnessstuff—thoughtherewasmoreofthereporter’simaginationthanofmyeyesight;butthat’sneitherherenorthere.’
‘Itisinteresting,’saidPoirot,‘howacrimeaffectsthelivesofpeoplewhoarequiteoutsideit.Takeyourself,forexample—youmakesuddenlyaquiteunexpectedsumofmoney—asumofmoneyperhapsparticularlywelcomeatthemoment.’
‘Money’salwayswelcome,’saidMrRyder.
HeeyedPoirotsharply.
‘Sometimestheneedofitisimperative.Forthatreasonmenembezzle—theymakefraudulententries—’Hewavedhishands.‘Allsortsofcomplicationsarise.’
‘Well,don’tlet’sgetgloomyaboutit,’saidMrRyder.
‘True.Whydwellonthedarksideofthepicture?Thismoneywasgratefultoyou—sinceyoufailedtoraisealoaninParis—’
‘Howthedevildidyouknowthat?’askedMrRyderangrily.
HerculePoirotsmiled.
‘Atanyrateitistrue.’
‘It’strueenough,butIdon’tparticularlywantittogetabout.’
‘Iwillbediscretionitself,Iassureyou.’
‘It’sodd,’musedMrRyder,‘howsmallasumwillsometimesputamaninQueerStreet.Justasmallsumofreadymoneytotidehimoveracrisis—andifhecan’tgetholdofthatinfinitesimalsum,tohellwithhiscredit.Yes,it’sdamnedodd.Money’sodd.Credit’sodd.Cometothat,lifeisodd!’
‘Verytrue.’
‘Bytheway,whatwasityouwantedtoseemeabout?’
‘Itisalittledelicate.Ithascometomyears—inthecourseofmyprofession,youunderstand—thatinspiteofyourdenialsyoudidhavedealingswiththiswomanGiselle.’
‘Whosaysso?It’salie!Ineversawthewoman.’
‘Dearme,thatisverycurious!’
‘Curious!It’sdamnedlibel.’
Poirotlookedathimthoughtfully.
‘Ah,’hesaid,‘Imustlookintothematter.’
‘Whatdoyoumean?Whatareyougettingat?’
Poirotshookhishead.
‘Donotenrageyourself;theremustbe—amistake.’
‘Ishouldthinktherewas.Catchmegettingmyselfmixedupwiththesehigh-tonedSocietymoneylenders.Societywomanwithgamblingdebts—that’stheirsort.’
Poirotrose.
‘Imustapologizeforhavingbeenmisinformed.’Hepausedatthedoor.‘Bytheway,justasamatterofcuriosity,whatmadeyoucallDrBryantDrHubbardjustnow?’
‘BlessedifIknow.Letmesee—Oh,yes,Ithinkitmusthavebeentheflute.Thenurseryrhyme,youknow.OldMotherHubbard’sdog—Butwhenshecamebackhewasplayingtheflute.Oddthinghowyoumixupnames.’
‘Ah,yes,theflute…Thesethingsinterestme,youunderstand,psychologically.’
MrRydersnortedatthewordpsychologically.Itsavouredtohimofwhathecalledthattom-foolbusinesspsychoanalysis.
HelookedatPoirotwithsuspicion.
Chapter19
EnterandExitMrRobinson
TheCountessofHorburysatinherbedroomat315GrosvenorSquareinfrontofhertoilettable.Goldbrushesandboxes,jarsoffacecream,boxesofpowder—daintyluxuryallaroundher.ButinthemidstoftheluxuryCicelyHorburysatwithdrylipsandafaceonwhichtherougeshowedupinunbecomingpatchesonhercheeks.
Shereadtheletterforthefourthtime
TheCountessofHorbury.DearMadam,re:MadameGiselle,deceased.Iamtheholderofcertaindocumentsformerlyinthepossessionofthedeceasedlady.IfyouorMrRaymondBarracloughareinterestedinthematter,Ishouldbehappytocalluponyouwithaviewtodiscussingtheaffair.Orperhapsyouwouldprefermetodealwithyourhusbandinthematter?Yourstruly,JohnRobinson.
Stupid,toreadthesamethingoverandoveragain…
Asthoughthewordsmightaltertheirmeaning.
Shepickeduptheenvelope—twoenvelopes,thefirstwith‘Personal’onit,thesecondwith‘PrivateandVeryConfidential.’
‘PrivateandVeryConfidential…’
Thebeast…thebeast…
AndthatlyingoldFrenchwoman,whohadswornthat‘allarrangementsweremadetoprotectclientsincaseofherownsuddendemise…’
Damnher…Lifewashell—hell…
‘OhGod,mynerves,’thoughtCicely.‘Itisn’tfair.Itisn’tfair…’
Hershakinghandwentouttoagold-toppedbottle…
‘Itwillsteadyme,pullmetogether…’
Shesnuffedthestuffuphernose.
There.Nowshecouldthink!Whattodo?Seetheman,ofcourse.Thoughwhereshecouldraiseanymoney—perhapsaluckyflutteratthatplaceinCarlosStreet…
Buttimeenoughtothinkofthatlater.Seetheman—findoutwhatheknows.
Shewentovertothewriting-table,dashedoffinherbig,unformedhandwriting:
TheCountessofHorburypresentshercomplimentstoMrJohnRobinsonandwillseehimifhecallsateleveno’clocktomorrowmorning…
II
‘WillIdo?’askedNorman.
HeflushedalittleunderPoirot’sstartledgaze.
‘Nameofaname,’saidHerculePoirot.‘Whatkindofacomedyisitthatyouareplaying?’
NormanGaleflushedevenmoredeeply.
Hemumbled,‘Yousaidaslightdisguisewouldbeaswell.’
Poirotsighed,thenhetooktheyoungmanbythearmandmarchedhimtothelooking-glass.
‘Regardyourself,’hesaid.‘ThatisallIaskofyou—regardyourself!Whatdoyouthinkyouare—aSantaClausdresseduptoamusethechildren?Iagreethatyourbeardisnotwhite:no,itisblack—thecolourforvillains.Butwhatabeard—abeardthatscreamstoHeaven!Acheapbeard,myfriend,andmostimperfectlyandamateurishlyattached!Thenthereareyoureyebrows.Butitisthatyouhavethemaniaforfalsehair?Thespiritgumonesmellsitseveralyardsaway;andifyouthinkthatanyonewillfailtoperceivethatyouhaveapieceofstickingplasterattachedtoatooth,youaremistaken.Myfriend,itisnotyourmétier—decidedlynot—toplaythepart.’
‘Iactedinamateurtheatricalsagooddealatonetime,’saidNormanGalestiffly.
‘Icanhardlybelieveit.Atanyrate,Ipresumetheydidnotletyouindulgeinyourownideasofmakeup.Evenbehindthefootlightsyourappearancewouldbesingularlyunconvincing.InGrosvenorSquareinbroaddaylight—’
Poirotgaveaneloquentshrugoftheshouldersbywayoffinishingthesentence.
‘No,monami,’hesaid.‘Youareablackmailer,notacomedian.Iwantherladyshiptofearyou—nottodieoflaughingwhensheseesyou.IobservethatIwoundyoubywhatIamsaying.Iregret,butitisamomentwhenonlythetruthwillserve.Takethisandthis—’Hepressedvariousjarsuponhim.‘Gointothebathroomandletushaveanendofwhatyoucallinthiscountrythefooltommery.’
Crushed,NormanGaleobeyed.Whenheemergedaquarterofanhourlater,hisfaceavividshadeofbrickred,Poirotgavehimanodofapproval.
‘Trèsbien.Thefarceisover.Theseriousbusinessbegins.Iwillpermityoutohaveasmallmoustache.ButIwill,ifyouplease,attachittoyoumyself.There—andnowwewillpartthehairdifferently—so.Thatisquiteenough.Nowletmeseeifyouatleastknowyourlines.’
Helistenedwithattention,thennodded
‘Thatisgood.Enavant—andgoodlucktoyou.’
‘Idevoutlyhopeso.Ishallprobablyfindanenragedhusbandandacoupleofpolicemen.’
Poirotreassuredhim.
‘Havenoanxiety.Allwillmarchtoamarvel.’
‘Soyousay,’mutteredNormanrebelliously.
Withhisspiritsatzero,hedepartedonhisdistastefulmission.
AtGrosvenorSquarehewasshownintoasmallroomonthefirstfloor.There,afteraminuteortwo,LadyHorburycametohim.
Normanbracedhimself.Hemustnot—positivelymustnot—showthathewasnewtothisbusiness.
‘MrRobinson?’saidCicely.
‘Atyourservice,’saidNorman,andbowed.
‘Damnitall—justlikeashop-walker,’hethoughtdisgustedly.‘That’sfright.’
‘Ihadyourletter,’saidCicely.
Normanpulledhimselftogether.‘TheoldfoolsaidIcouldn’tact,’hesaidtohimselfwithamentalgrin.
Aloudhesaidratherinsolently:
‘Quiteso—well,whataboutit,LadyHorbury?’
‘Idon’tknowwhatyoumean.’
‘Come,come.Mustwereallygointodetails?Everyoneknowshowpleasanta—well,callitaweekendattheseaside—canbe;buthusbandsseldomagree.Ithinkyouknow,LadyHorbury,justexactlywhattheevidenceconsistsof.Wonderfulwoman,oldGiselle.Alwayshadthegoods.Hotelevidence,etc.,isquitefirstclass.Nowthequestioniswhowantsitmost—youorLordHorbury?That’sthequestion.’
Shestoodtherequivering.
‘I’maseller,’saidNorman,hisvoicegrowingcommonerashethrewhimselfmorewhole-heartedlyintothepartofMrRobinson.‘Areyouabuyer?That’sthequestion.’
‘Howdidyougetholdofthis—evidence?’
‘Nowreally,LadyHorbury,that’sratherbesidethepoint.I’vegotit,that’sthemainthing.’
‘Idon’tbelieveyou.Showittome.’
‘Oh,no.’Normanshookhisheadwithacunningleer.‘Ididn’tbringanythingwithme.I’mnotsogreenasthat.Ifweagreetodobusiness,that’sanothermatter.I’llshowyouthestuffbeforeyouhandthemoneyover.Allfairandaboveboard.’
‘How—howmuch?’
‘Tenthousandofthebest—pounds,notdollars.’
‘Impossible.Icouldneverlaymyhandsonanythinglikethatamount.’
‘It’swonderfulwhatyoucandoifyoutry.Jewelsaren’tfetchingwhattheydid,butpearlsarestillpearls.Lookhere,toobligealadyI’llmakeiteightthousand.That’smylastword.AndI’llgiveyoutwodaystothinkitover.’
‘Ican’tgetthemoney,Itellyou.’
Normansighedandshookhishead.
‘Well,perhapsit’sonlyrightLordHorburyshouldknowwhat’sbeengoingon.IbelieveI’mcorrectinsayingthatadivorcedwomangetsnoalimony—andMrBarraclough’saverypromisingyoungactor,buthe’snottouchingbigmoney.Nownotanotherword.I’llleaveyoutothinkitover;andmindwhatIsay—Imeanit.’
Hepausedandthenadded:
‘Imeanit,justasGisellemeantit…’
Thenquickly,beforethewretchedwomancouldreply,hehadlefttheroom.
‘Ouch!’saidNormanashereachedthestreet.Hewipedhisbrow.‘Thankgoodnessthat’sover.’
III
ItwasabarehourlaterwhenacardwasbroughttoLadyHorbury.
‘M.HerculePoirot.’
Shethrustitaside.‘Whoishe?Ican’tseehim!’
‘Hesaid,m’lady,thathewashereattherequestofMrRaymondBarraclough.’
‘Oh.’Shepaused.‘Verywell,showhimin.’
Thebutlerdeparted,reappeared.
‘M.HerculePoirot.’
Exquisitelydressedinthemostdandiacalstyle,M.Poirotentered,bowed.
Thebutlerclosedthedoor.Cicelytookastepforward.
‘MrBarracloughsentyou—?’
‘Sitdown,Madame.’Histonewaskindlybutauthoritative.
Mechanicallyshesat.Hetookachairnearher.Hismannerwasfatherlyandreassuring.
‘Madame,Ientreatyou,lookuponmeasafriend.Icometoadviseyou.Youare,Iknow,ingravetrouble.’
Shemurmuredfaintly,‘Idon’t—’
‘Ecoutez,Madame,Idonotaskyoutogiveawayyoursecrets.Itisunnecessary.Iknowthembeforehand.Thatistheessenceofbeingagooddetective—toknow.’
‘Adetective?’Hereyeswidened.‘Iremember—youwereontheplane.Itwasyou—’
‘Precisely,itwasme.Now,Madame,letusgettobusiness.AsIsaidjustnow,Idonotpressyoutoconfideinme.Youshallnotstartbytellingmethings.Iwilltelltoyou.Thismorning,notanhourago,youhadavisitor.Thatvisitor—hisnamewasBrown,perhaps?’
‘Robinson,’saidCicelyfaintly.
‘Itisthesamething—Brown,Smith,Robinson—heusestheminturn.Hecameheretoblackmailyou,Madame.Hehasinhispossessioncertainproofsof—shallwesay—indiscretion?ThoseproofswereonceinthekeepingofMadameGiselle.Nowthismanhasthem.Heoffersthemtoyoufor,perhaps,seventhousandpounds.’
‘Eight.’
‘Eight,then.Andyou,Madame,willnotfinditeasytogetthatsumveryquickly?’
‘Ican’tdoit—Isimplycan’tdoit…I’mindebtalready.Idon’tknowwhattodo…’
‘Calmyourself,Madame.Icometoassistyou.’
Shestaredathim.
‘Howdoyouknowallthis?’
‘Simply,Madame,becauseIamHerculePoirot.Ehbien,havenofears—placeyourselfinmyhands—IwilldealwiththisMrRobinson.’
‘Yes,’saidCicelysharply.‘Andhowmuchwillyouwant?’
HerculePoirotbowed.
‘Ishallaskonlyaphotograph,signed,ofaverybeautifullady…’
Shecriedout,‘Oh,dear,Idon’tknowwhattodo…Mynerves…I’mgoingmad.’
‘No,no,alliswell.TrustHerculePoirot.Only,Madame,Imusthavethetruth—thewholetruth—donotkeepanythingbackormyhandswillbetied.’
‘Andyou’llgetmeoutofthismess?’
‘IsweartoyousolemnlythatyouwillneverhearofMrRobinsonagain.’
Shesaid,‘Allright.I’lltellyoueverything.’
‘Good.Nowthen,youborrowedmoneyfromthiswomanGiselle?’
LadyHorburynodded.
‘Whenwasthat?Whendiditbegin,Imean?’
‘Eighteenmonthsago.Iwasinahole.’
‘Gambling?’
‘Yes.Ihadanappallingrunofluck.’
‘Andshelentyouasmuchasyouwanted?’
‘Notatfirst.Onlyasmallsumtobeginwith.’
‘Whosentyoutoher?’
‘Raymond—MrBarracloughtoldmethathehadheardshelentmoneytoSocietywomen.’
‘Butlatershelentyoumore?’
‘Yes—asmuchasIwanted.Itseemedlikeamiracleatthetime.’
‘ItwasMadameGiselle’sspecialkindofmiracle,’saidPoirotdrily.‘IgatherthatbeforethenyouandMrBarracloughhadbecome—er—friends?’
‘Yes.’
‘Butyouwereveryanxiousthatyourhusbandshouldnotknowaboutit?’
Cicelycriedangrily,‘Stephen’saprig.He’stiredofme.Hewantstomarrysomeoneelse.He’dhavejumpedatthethoughtofdivorcingme.’
‘Andyoudidnotwant—divorce?’
‘No.I—I—’
‘Youlikedyourposition—andalsoyouenjoyedtheuseofaveryampleincome.Quiteso.Lesfemmes,naturally,theymustlookafterthemselves.Toproceed—therearosethequestionofrepayment?’
‘Yes,andI—Icouldn’tpaybackthemoney.Andthentheolddevilturnednasty.SheknewaboutmeandRaymond.She’dfoundoutplacesanddatesandeverything—Ican’tthinkhow.’
‘Shehadhermethods,’saidPoirotdrily.‘Andshethreatened,Isuppose,tosendallthisevidencetoLordHorbury?’
‘Yes,unlessIpaidup.’
‘Andyoucouldn’tpay?’
‘No.’
‘Soherdeathwasquiteprovidential?’
CicelyHorburysaidearnestly,‘Itseemedtoo,toowonderful.’
‘Ah,precisely—too,toowonderful.Butitmadeyoualittlenervous,perhaps?’
‘Nervous?’
‘Well,afterall,Madame,youaloneofanyoneontheplanehadamotivefordesiringherdeath.’
Shedrewinherbreathsharply.
‘Iknow.Itwasawful.Iwasinanabsolutestateaboutit.’
‘EspeciallysinceyouhadbeentoseeherinParisthenightbefore,andhadhadsomethingofascenewithher?’
‘Theolddevil!Shewouldn’tbudgeaninch.Ithinksheactuallyenjoyedit.Oh,shewasabeastthroughandthrough!Icameawaylikearag.’
‘Andyetyousaidattheinquestthatyouhadneverseenthewomanbefore?’
‘Well,naturally,whatelsecouldIsay?’
Poirotlookedatherthoughtfully.
‘You,Madame,couldsaynothingelse.’
‘It’sbeentooghastly—nothingbutlies—lies—lies.Thatdreadfulinspectormanhasbeenhereagainandagainbadgeringmewithquestions.ButIfeltprettysafe.Icouldseehewasonlytryingiton.Hedidn’tknowanything.’
‘Ifonedoesguess,oneshouldguesswithassurance.’
‘Andthen,’continuedCicely,pursuingherownlineofthought,‘Icouldn’thelpfeelingthatifanythingweretoleakout,itwouldhaveleakedoutatonce.Ifeltsafe—tillthatawfulletteryesterday.’
‘Youhavenotbeenafraidallthistime?’
‘OfcourseI’vebeenafraid!’
‘Butofwhat?Ofexposure,orofbeingarrestedformurder?’
Thecolourebbedawayfromhercheeks.
‘Murder—butIdidn’t—Oh,youdon’tbelievethat!Ididn’tkillher.Ididn’t!’
‘Youwantedherdead…’
‘Yes,butIdidn’tkillher…Oh,youmustbelieveme—youmust.Inevermovedfrommyseat.I—’
Shebrokeoff.Herbeautifulblueeyeswerefixedonhimimploringly.
HerculePoirotnoddedsoothingly.
‘Ibelieveyou,Madame,fortworeasons—first,becauseofyoursex,andsecondlybecauseof—awasp.’
Shestaredathim.
‘Awasp?’
‘Exactly.Thatdoesnotmakesensetoyou,Isee.Now,then,letusattendtothematterinhand.IwilldealwiththisMrRobinson.Ipledgeyoumywordthatyoushallneverseeorhearofhimagain.Iwillsettlehis—his—Ihaveforgottentheword—hisbacon?No,hisgoat.NowinreturnformyservicesIwillaskyoutwolittlequestions.WasMrBarracloughinParisthedaybeforethemurder?’
‘Yes,wedinedtogether.ButhethoughtitbetterIshouldgoandseethewomanalone.’
‘Ah,hedid,didhe?Now,Madame,onefurtherquestion:YourstagenamebeforeyouweremarriedwasCicelyBland.Wasthatyourrealname?’
‘No,myrealnameisMarthaJebb.Buttheother—’
‘Madeabetterprofessionalname.Andyouwereborn—where?’
‘Doncaster.Butwhy—’
‘Merecuriosity.Forgiveme.Andnow,LadyHorbury,willyoupermitmetogiveyousomeadvice?Whynotarrangewithyourhusbandadiscreetdivorce?’
‘Andlethimmarrythatwoman?’
‘Andlethimmarrythatwoman.Youhaveagenerousheart,Madame;andbesides,youwillbesafe—oh,sosafe—andyourhusbandhewillpayyouanincome.’
‘Notaverylargeone.’
‘Ehbien,onceyouarefreeyouwillmarryamillionaire.’
‘Therearen’tanynowadays.’
‘Ah,donotbelievethat,Madame.Themanwhohadthreemillionsperhapsnowhehastwomillions—ehbien,itisstillenough.’
Cicelylaughed.
‘You’reverypersuasive,M.Poirot.Andareyoureallysurethatdreadfulmanwillneverbothermeagain?’
‘OnthewordofHerculePoirot,’saidthatgentlemansolemnly.
Chapter20
InHarleyStreet
Detective-InspectorJappwalkedbrisklyupHarleyStreetandstoppedatacertaindoor.
HeaskedforDrBryant.
‘Haveyouanappointment,sir?’
‘No,I’lljustwriteafewwords.’
Onanofficialcardhewrote:
‘Shouldbemuchobligedifyoucouldsparemeafewmoments.Iwon’tkeepyoulong.’
Hesealedupthecardinanenvelopeandgaveittothebutler.
Hewasshownintoawaiting-room.Thereweretwowomenthereandaman.JappsettleddownwithanelderlycopyofPunch
Thebutlerreappearedand,crossingthefloor,saidinadiscreetvoice:
‘Ifyouwouldn’tmindwaitingashorttime,sir,thedoctorwillseeyou,buthe’sverybusythismorning.’
Jappnodded.Hedidnotintheleastmindwaiting—infactheratherwelcomedit.Thetwowomenhadbeguntotalk.TheyhadobviouslyaveryhighopinionofDrBryant’sabilities.Morepatientscamein.EvidentlyDrBryantwasdoingwellinhisprofession.
‘Fairlycoiningmoney,’thoughtJapptohimself.‘Thatdoesn’tlooklikeneedingtoborrow;butofcoursetheloanmayhavetakenplacealongtimeago.Anyway,he’sgotafinepractice;abreathofscandalwouldburstittobits.That’stheworstofbeingadoctor.’
Quarterofanhourlaterthebutlerreappearedandsaid:
‘Thedoctorwillseeyounow,sir.’
JappwasshownintoDrBryant’sconsulting-room—aroomatthebackofthehousewithabigwindow.Thedoctorwassittingathisdesk.Heroseandshookhandswiththedetective.
Hisfine-linedfaceshowedfatigue,butheseemedinnowaydisturbedbytheinspector’svisit.
‘WhatcanIdoforyou,Inspector?’hesaidasheresumedhisseatandmotionedJapptoachairopposite.
‘Imustapologizefirstforcallinginyourconsultinghours,butIshan’tkeepyoulong,sir.’
‘Thatisallright,Isupposeitisabouttheaeroplanedeath?’
‘Quiteright,sir.We’restillworkingonit.’
‘Withanyresult?’
‘We’renotasfaronaswe’dliketobe.Ireallycametoaskyousomequestionsaboutthemethodemployed.It’sthissnakevenombusinessthatIcan’tgetthehangof.’
‘I’mnotatoxicologist,youknow,’saidDrBryant,smiling.‘Suchthingsaren’tinmyline.Winterspoon’syourman.’
‘Ah,butyousee,it’slikethis,Doctor.Winterspoon’sanexpert—andyouknowwhatexpertsare.Theytalksothattheordinarymancan’tunderstandthem.ButasfarasIcanmakeoutthere’samedicalsideofthisbusiness.Isittruethatsnakevenomissometimesinjectedforepilepsy?’
‘I’mnotaspecialistinepilepsy,either,’saidDrBryant.‘ButIbelievethatinjectionsofcobravenomhavebeenusedinthetreatmentofepilepsywithexcellentresults.But,asIsay,that’snotreallymylineofcountry.’
‘Iknow—Iknow.Whatitreallyamountstoisthis:Ifeltthatyou’dtakeaninterest,havingbeenontheaeroplaneyourself.Ithoughtitpossiblethatyou’dhavesomeideasonthesubjectyourselfthatmightbeusefultome.It’snotmuchgoodmygoingtoanexpertifIdon’tknowwhattoaskhim.’
DrBryantsmiled.
‘Thereissomethinginwhatyousay,Inspector.Thereisprobablynomanlivingwhocanremainentirelyunaffectedbyhavingcomeinclosecontactwithmurder…Iaminterested,Iadmit.Ihavespeculatedagooddealaboutthecaseinmyquietway.’
‘Andwhatdoyouthink,sir?’
Bryantshookhisheadslowly.
‘Itamazesme—thewholethingseemsalmost—unreal—ifImightputitthatway.Anastoundingwayofcommittingacrime.Itseemsachanceinahundredthatthemurdererwasnotseen.Hemustbeapersonwitharecklessdisregardofrisks.’
‘Verytrue,sir.’
‘Thechoiceofpoisonisequallyamazing.Howcouldawould-bemurdererpossiblygetholdofsuchathing?’
‘Iknow.Itseemsincredible.Why,Idon’tsupposeonemaninathousandhaseverheardofsuchathingasaboomslang,muchlessactuallyhandledthevenom.Youyourself,sir,now,you’readoctor—butIdon’tsupposeyou’veeverhandledthestuff.’
‘Therearecertainlynotmanyopportunitiesofdoingso.Ihaveafriendwhoworksattropicalresearch.Inhislaboratorytherearevariousspecimensofdriedsnakevenoms—thatofthecobra,forinstance—butIcannotrememberanyspecimenoftheboomslang.’
‘Perhapsyoucanhelpme—’Japptookoutapieceofpaperandhandedittothedoctor.‘Winterspoonwrotedownthesethreenames—saidImightgetinformationthere.Doyouknowanyofthesemen?’
‘IknowProfessorKennedyslightly.HeidlerIknowwell;mentionmynameandI’msurehe’lldoallhecanforyou.Carmichael’sanEdinburghman—Idon’tknowhimpersonally—butIbelievethey’vedonesomegoodworkupthere.’
‘Thankyou,sir,I’mmuchobliged.Well,Iwon’tkeepyouanylonger.’
WhenJappemergedintoHarleyStreethewassmilingtohimselfinapleasedfashion.
‘Nothingliketact,’hesaidtohimself.‘Tactdoesit.I’llbeboundheneversawwhatIwasafter.Well,that’sthat.’
Chapter21
TheThreeClues
WhenJappgotbacktoScotlandYardhewastoldthatM.HerculePoirotwaswaitingtoseehim.
Jappgreetedhisfriendheartily.
‘Well,M.Poirot,andwhatbringsyoualong.Anynews?’
‘Icametoaskyoufornews,mygoodJapp.’
‘Ifthatisn’tjustlikeyou.Well,thereisn’tmuchandthat’sthetruth.ThedealerfellowinParishasidentifiedtheblowpipeallright.Fournier’sbeenworryingthelifeoutofmefromParisabouthismomentpsychologique.I’vequestionedthosestewardstillI’mblueintheface,andtheysticktoitthattherewasn’tamomentpsychologique.Nothingstartlingoroutofthewayhappenedonthevoyage.’
‘Itmighthaveoccurredwhentheywerebothinthefrontcar.’
‘I’vequestionedthepassengers,too.Everyonecan’tbelying.’
‘InonecaseIinvestigatedeveryonewas!’
‘Youandyourcases!Totellthetruth,M.Poirot,I’mnotveryhappy.ThemoreIlookintothingsthelessIget.TheChief’sinclinedtolookonmerathercoldly.ButwhatcanIdo?Luckilyit’soneofthosesemi-foreigncases.WecanputitontheFrenchmenoverhere—andinParistheysayitwasdonebyanEnglishmanandthatit’sourbusiness.’
‘DoyoureallybelievetheFrenchmendidit?’
‘Well,frankly,Idon’t.AsIlookatitanarchaeologistisapoorkindoffish.Alwaysburrowinginthegroundandtalkingthroughhishataboutwhathappenedthousandsofyearsago—andhowdotheyknow,Ishouldliketoknow?Who’stocontradictthem?Theysaysomerottenstringofbeadsisfivethousandthreehundredandtwenty-twoyearsold,andwho’stosayitisn’t?Well,theretheyare—liars,perhaps—thoughtheyseemtobelieveitthemselves—butharmless.Ihadanoldchapinheretheotherdaywho’dhadascarabpinched—terriblestatehewasin—niceoldboy,buthelplessasababyinarms.No,betweenyouandme,Idon’tthinkforaminutethatpairofFrencharchaeologistsdidit.’
‘Whodoyouthinkdidit?’
‘Well—there’sClancy,ofcourse.He’sinaqueerway.Goesaboutmutteringtohimself.He’sgotsomethingonhismind.’
‘Theplotofanewbook,perhaps.’
‘Itmaybethat—anditmaybesomethingelse;but,tryasImay,Ican’tgetalineonmotive.IstillthinkCL52intheblackbookisLadyHorbury;butIcan’tgetanythingoutofher.She’sprettyhard-boiled,Icantellyou.’
Poirotsmiledtohimself.Jappwenton:
‘Thestewards—well,Ican’tfindathingtoconnectthemwithGiselle.’
‘DrBryant?’
‘IthinkI’montosomethingthere.Rumoursabouthimandapatient.Prettywoman—nastyhusband—takesdrugsorsomething.Ifhe’snotcarefulhe’llbestruckoffthemedicalcouncil.ThatfitsinwithRT362wellenough,andIdon’tmindtellingyouthatI’vegotaprettyshrewdideawherehecouldhavegotthesnakevenomfrom.Iwenttoseehimandhegavehimselfawayratherbadlyoverthat.Still,sofaritisallsurmise—nofacts.Factsaren’tanytooeasytogetatinthiscase.Ryderseemsallsquareandaboveboard—sayshewenttoraisealoaninParisandcouldn’tgetit—gavenamesandaddresses—allcheckedup.I’vefoundoutthatthefirmwasnearlyinQueerStreetaboutaweekortwoago,buttheyseemtobejustpullingthrough.Thereyouareagain—unsatisfactory.Thewholethingisamuddle.’
‘Thereisnosuchthingasmuddle—obscurity,yes—butmuddlecanexistonlyinadisorderlybrain.’
‘Useanywordyouchoose.Theresult’sthesame.Fournier’sstumped,too.Isupposeyou’vegotitalltapedout,butyou’drathernottell!’
‘Youmockyourselfatme.Ihavenotgotitalltapedout.Iproceedastepatatime,withorderandmethod,butthereisstillfartogo.’
‘Ican’thelpfeelinggladtohearthat.Let’shearabouttheseorderlysteps.’
Poirotsmiled.
‘Imakealittletable—so.’Hetookapaperfromhispocket.‘Myideaisthis:Amurderisanactionperformedtobringaboutacertainresult.’
‘Saythatagainslowly.’
‘Itisnotdifficult.’
‘Probablynot—butyoumakeitsoundso.’
‘No,no,itisverysimple.Sayyouwantmoney—yougetitwhenanauntdies.Bien—youperformanaction—thisistokilltheaunt—andgettheresult—inheritthemoney.’
‘IwishIhadsomeauntslikethat,’sighedJapp.‘Goahead,Iseeyouridea.Youmeanthere’sgottobeamotive.’
‘Iprefermyownwayofputtingit.Anactionisperformed—theactionbeingmurder—whatnowaretheresultsofthataction?Bystudyingthedifferentresultsweshouldgettheanswertoourconundrum.Theresultsofasingleactionmaybeveryvaried—thatparticularactionaffectsalotofdifferentpeople.Ehbien,Istudytoday—threeweeksafterthecrime—theresultinelevendifferentcases.’
Hespreadoutthepaper.
JappleanedforwardwithsomeinterestandreadoverPoirot’sshoulder:
MissGrey.Result—temporaryimprovement.Increasedsalary.
MrGale.Result—bad.Lossofpractice.
LadyHorbury.Resultgood,ifshe’sCL52.
MissKerr.Result—bad,sinceGiselle’sdeathmakesitmoreunlikelyLordHorburywillgettheevidencetodivorcehiswife.
‘H’m.’Jappinterruptedhisscrutiny.‘Soyouthinkshe’skeenonhislordship?Youareaonefornosingoutloveaffairs.’
Poirotsmiled.Jappbentoverthechartoncemore.
MrClancy.Result—good—expectstomakemoneybybookdealingwiththemurder.
DrBryant.Result—goodifRT362.
MrRyder.Result—good,owingtosmallamountofcashobtainedthrougharticlesonmurderwhichtidedfirmoverdelicatetime.AlsogoodifRyderisXVB724.
M.Dupont.Result—unaffected.
M.JeanDupont.Result—thesame.
Mitchell.Result—unaffected.
Davis.Result—unaffected.
‘Andyouthinkthat’sgoingtohelpyou?’askedJappsceptically.‘Ican’tseethatwritingdown“Idon’tknow.Idon’tknow.Ican’ttell,”makesitanybetter.’
‘Itgivesoneaclearclassification,’explainedPoirot.‘Infourcases—MrClancy,MissGrey,MrRyder,andIthinkImaysayLadyHorbury—thereisaresultonthecreditside.InthecasesofMrGaleandMissKerrthereisaresultonthedebitside—infourcasesthereisnoresultatall—sofarasweknow—andinone,DrBryant,thereiseithernoresultoradistinctgain.’
‘Andso?’askedJapp.
‘Andso,’saidPoirot,‘wemustgoonseeking.’
‘Withpreciouslittletogoupon,’saidJappgloomily.‘Thetruthofitisthatwe’rehungupuntilwecangetwhatwewantfromParis.It’stheGisellesidethatwantsgoinginto.IbetIcouldhavegotmoreoutofthatmaidthanFournierdid.’
‘Idoubtit,myfriend.Themostinterestingthingaboutthiscaseisthepersonalityofthedeadwoman.Awomanwithoutfriends—withoutrelations—without,asonemightsay—anypersonallife.Awomanwhowasonceyoung,whooncelovedandsufferedandthen—withafirmhandpulleddowntheshutter—allthatwasover;notaphotograph,notasouvenir,notaknick-knack.MarieMorisotbecameMadameGiselle—moneylender.’
‘Doyouthinkthereisaclueinherpast?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Well,wecoulddowithit!Therearen’tanycluesinthiscase.’
‘Oh,yes,myfriend,thereare.’
‘Theblowpipe,ofcourse—’
‘No,no,nottheblowpipe.’
‘Well,let’shearyourideasofthecluesinthecase.’
Poirotsmiled.
‘Iwillgivethemtitles—likethenamesofMrClancy’sstories:TheClueoftheWasp.TheClueinthePassenger’sBaggage.TheClueoftheExtraCoffeeSpoon.’
‘You’repotty,’saidJappkindly,andadded:‘What’sthisaboutacoffeespoon?’
‘MadameGisellehadtwospoonsinhersaucer.’
‘That’ssupposedtomeanawedding.’
‘Inthiscase,’saidPoirot,‘itmeantafuneral.’
Chapter22
JaneTakesaNewJob
WhenNormanGale,JaneandPoirotmetfordinneronthenightafterthe‘blackmailingincident’Normanwasrelievedtohearthathisservicesas‘MrRobinson’werenolongerrequired.
‘Heisdead,thegoodMrRobinson,’saidPoirot.Heraisedhisglass.‘Letusdrinktohismemory.’
‘RIP,’saidNormanwithalaugh.
‘Whathappened?’askedJaneofPoirot
Hesmiledather.
‘IfoundoutwhatIwantedtoknow.’
‘WasshemixedupwithGiselle?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thatwasprettyclearfrommyinterviewwithher,’saidNorman.
‘Quiteso,’saidPoirot.‘ButIwantedafullanddetailedstory.’
‘Andyougotit?’
‘Igotit.’
Theybothlookedathiminquiringly,butPoirot,inaprovokingmanner,begantodiscusstherelationshipbetweenacareerandlife.
‘Therearenotsomanyroundpegsinsquareholesasonemightthink.Mostpeople,inspiteofwhattheytellyou,choosetheoccupationsthattheysecretlydesire.Youwillhearamansaywhoworksinanoffice,“Ishouldliketoexplore—toroughitinfarcountries.”Butyouwillfindthathelikesreadingthefictionthatdealswiththatsubject,butthathehimselfprefersthesafetyandmoderatecomfortofanofficestool.’
‘Accordingtoyou,’saidJane,‘mydesireforforeigntravelisn’tgenuine—messingaboutwithwomen’sheadsismytruevocation—well,thatisn’ttrue.’
Poirotsmiledather.
‘Youareyoungstill.Naturallyonetriesthis,thatandtheother,butwhatoneeventuallysettlesdownintoisthelifeoneprefers.’
‘AndsupposeIpreferbeingrich?’
‘Ah,that,itismoredifficult!’
‘Idon’tagreewithyou,’saidGale.‘I’madentistbychance—notchoice.Myunclewasadentist—hewantedmetocomeinwithhim,butIwasallforadventureandseeingtheworld.IchuckeddentistryandwentofftofarminSouthAfrica.However,thatwasn’tmuchgood—Ihadn’tgotenoughexperience.Ihadtoaccepttheoldman’sofferandcomeandsetupbusinesswithhim.’
‘AndnowyouarethinkingofchuckingdentistryagainandgoingofftoCanada.YouhaveaDominioncomplex!’
‘ThistimeIshallbeforcedtodoit.’
‘Ah,butitisincrediblehowoftenthingsforceonetodothethingonewouldliketodo.’
‘Nothing’sforcingmetotravel,’saidJanewistfully.‘Iwishitwould.’
‘Ehbien,Imakeyouanofferhereandnow.IgotoParisnextweek.Ifyoulikeyoucantakethejobofmysecretary—Iwillgiveyouagoodsalary.’
Janeshookherhead.
‘Imustn’tgiveupAntoine’s.It’sagoodjob.’
‘Soismineagoodjob.’
‘Yes,butit’sonlytemporary.’
‘Iwillobtainyouanotherpostofthesamekind.’
‘Thanks,butIdon’tthinkI’llriskit.’
Poirotlookedatherandsmiledenigmatically.
Threedayslaterhewasrungup.
‘M.Poirot,’saidJane,‘isthatjobstillopen?’
‘Butyes.IgotoParisonMonday.’
‘Youreallymeanit?Icancome?’
‘Yes,butwhathashappenedtomakeyouchangeyourmind?’
‘I’vehadarowwithAntoine.AsamatteroffactIlostmytemperwithacustomer.Shewasan—anabsolute—well,Ican’tsayjustwhatshewasthroughthetelephone.IwasfeelingnervyandinsteadofdoingmysoothingsyrupstuffIjustletripandtoldherexactlywhatIthoughtofher.’
‘Ah,thethoughtofthegreatwideopenspaces.’
‘What’sthatyousay?’
‘Isaythatyourmindwasdwellingonacertainsubject.’
‘Itwasn’tmymind,itwasmytonguethatslipped.Ienjoyedit—hereyeslookedjustlikeherbeastlyPekingese’s—asthoughtheyweregoingtodropout—buthereIam—thrownoutonmyear,asyoumightsay.Imustgetanotherjobsometime,Isuppose—butI’dliketocometoParisfirst.’
‘Good,itisarranged.OnthewayoverIwillgiveyouyourinstructions.’
Poirotandhisnewsecretarydidnottravelbyair,forwhichJanewassecretlythankful.Theunpleasantexperienceofherlasttriphadshakenhernerve.Shedidnotwanttoberemindedofthatlollingfigureinrustyblack…
OntheirwayfromCalaistoParistheyhadthecompartmenttothemselves,andPoirotgaveJanesomeideaofhisplans
‘ThereareseveralpeopleinParisthatIhavetosee.Thereisthelawyer—Ma?treThibault.ThereisalsoM.FournieroftheS?reté—amelancholyman,butintelligent.AndthereareM.DupontpèreandM.Dupontfils.Now,MademoiselleJane,whilstIamtakingonthefatherIshallleavethesontoyou.Youareverycharming,veryattractive—IfancythatM.Dupontwillrememberyoufromtheinquest.’
‘I’veseenhimsincethen,’saidJane,hercolourrisingslightly.
‘Indeed?Andhowwasthat?’
Jane,hercolourrisingalittlemore,describedtheirmeetingintheCornerHouse.
‘Excellent—betterandbetter.Ah,itwasafamousideaofminetobringyoutoPariswithme.Nowlistencarefully,MademoiselleJane.AsfaraspossibledonotdiscusstheGiselleaffair,butdonotavoidthesubjectifJeanDupontintroducesit.Itmightbewellif,withoutactuallysayingso,youcouldconveytheimpressionthatLadyHorburyis
‘PoorLadyHorbury—youdomakeherastalkinghorse!’
‘SheisnotthetypeIadmire—ehbien,letherbeusefulforonce.’
Janehesitatedforaminute,thensaid:
‘Youdon’tsuspectyoungM.Dupontofthecrime,doyou?’
‘No,no,no—Idesireinformationmerely.’Helookedathersharply.‘Heattractsyou—eh—thisyoungman?Ilalesexappeal?’
Janelaughedatthephrase.
‘No,that’snothowIwoulddescribehim.He’sverysimple,butratheradear.’
‘Sothatishowyoudescribehim—verysimple?’
‘Heissimple.Ithinkit’sbecausehe’sledaniceunworldlylife.’
‘True,’saidPoirot.‘Hehasnot,forinstance,dealtwithteeth.Hehasnotbeendisillusionedbythesightofapublicheroshiveringwithfrightinthedentist’schair.’
Janelaughed.
‘Idon’tthinkNorman’sropedinanypublicheroesyetaspatients.’
‘Itwouldhavebeenawaste,sinceheisgoingtoCanada.’
‘He’stalkingofNewZealandnow.HethinksI’dliketheclimatebetter.’
‘Atalleventsheispatriotic.HestickstotheBritishDominions.’
‘I’mhoping,’saidJane,‘thatitwon’tbenecessary.’
ShefixedPoirotwithaninquiringeye.
‘MeaningthatyouputyourtrustinPapaPoirot?Ah,well—IwilldothebestIcan—thatIpromiseyou.ButIhavethefeelingverystrongly,Mademoiselle,thatthereisafigurewhohasnotyetcomeintothelimelight—apartasyetunplayed—’
Heshookhishead,frowning.
‘Thereis,Mademoiselle,anunknownfactorinthiscase.Everythingpointstothat…’
II
TwodaysaftertheirarrivalinParis,M.HerculePoirotandhissecretarydinedinasmallrestaurant,andthetwoDuponts,fatherandson,werePoirot’sguests.
OldM.Dupont,Janefoundascharmingashisson,butshegotlittlechanceoftalkingtohim.Poirotmonopolizedhimseverelyfromthestart.JanefoundJeannolesseasytogetonwiththanshehaddoneinLondon.Hisattractive,boyishpersonalitypleasedhernowasithadthen.Hewassuchasimplefriendlysoul.
Allthesame,evenwhileshelaughedandtalkedwithhim,herearwasalerttocatchsnatchesofthetwooldermen’sconversation.ShewonderedpreciselywhatinformationitwasthatPoirotwanted.Sofarasshecouldhear,theconversationhadnevertouchedonceonthemurder.Poirotwasskilfullydrawingouthiscompaniononthesubjectofthepast.HisinterestinarchaeologicalresearchinPersiaseemedbothdeepandsincere.M.Dupontwasenjoyinghiseveningenormously.Seldomdidhegetsuchanintelligentandsympatheticlistener.
Whosesuggestionitwasthatthetwoyoungpeopleshouldgotoacinemawasnotquiteclear,butwhentheyhadgonePoirotdrewhischairalittleclosertothetableandseemedpreparedtotakeastillmorepracticalinterestinarchaeologicalresearch.
‘Icomprehend,’hesaid.‘Naturallyitisagreatanxietyinthesedifficultfinancialdaystoraisesufficientfunds.Youacceptprivatedonations?’
M.Dupontlaughed.
‘Mydearfriend,wesueforthempracticallyonbendedknees!Butourparticulartypeofdigdoesnotattractthegreatmassofhumanity.Theydemandspectacularresults!Aboveall,theylikegold—largequantitiesofgold!Itisamazinghowlittletheaveragepersoncaresforpottery.Pottery—thewholeromanceofhumanitycanbeexpressedintermsofpottery.Design—texture—’
M.Dupontwaswellaway.HebesoughtPoirotnottobeledastraybythespeciouspublicationsofB—,thereallycriminalmisdatingofL—,andthehopelesslyunscientificstratificationofG—.Poirotpromisedsolemnlynottobeledastraybyanyofthepublicationsoftheselearnedpersonages.
Thenhesaid:
‘Wouldadonation,forinstance,offivehundredpounds—?’
M.Dupontnearlyfellacrossthetableinhisexcitement.
‘You—youareofferingthat?Tome?Toaidourresearches.Butitismagnificent,stupendous!Thebiggestprivatedonationwehavehad.’
Poirotcoughed.
‘Iwilladmit—thereisafavour—’
‘Ah,yes,asouvenir—somespecimensofpottery—’
‘No,no,youmisunderstandme,’saidPoirotquicklybeforeM.Dupontcouldgetwellawayagain.‘Itismysecretary—thatcharmingyounggirlyousawtonight—ifshecouldaccompanyyouonyourexpedition?’
M.Dupontseemedslightlytakenabackforamoment.
‘Well,’hesaid,pullinghismoustache,‘itmightpossiblybearranged.Ishouldhavetoconsultmyson.Mynephewandhiswifearetoaccompanyus.Itwastohavebeenafamilyparty.However,IwillspeaktoJean—’
‘MademoiselleGreyispassionatelyinterestedinpottery.ThePasthasforheranimmensefascination.Itisthedreamofherlifetodig.Alsoshemendssocksandsewsonbuttonsinamannertrulyadmirable.’
‘Ausefulaccomplishment.’
‘Isitnot?Andnowyouweretellingme—aboutthepotteryofSusa—’
M.DupontresumedahappymonologueonhisownparticulartheoriesofSusaIandSusaII.
Poirotreachedhishotel,tofindJanesayinggoodnighttoJeanDupontinthehall.
AstheywentupintheliftPoirotsaid:
‘Ihaveobtainedforyouajobofgreatinterest.YouaretoaccompanytheDupontstoPersiainthespring.’
Janestaredathim.
‘Areyouquitemad?’
‘Whentheofferismadetoyou,youwillacceptwitheverymanifestationofdelight.’
‘IamcertainlynotgoingtoPersia.IshallbeinMuswellHillorNewZealandwithNorman.’
Poirottwinkledathergently.
‘Mydearchild,’hesaid,‘itissomemonthstonextMarch.Toexpressdelightisnottobuyaticket.Inthesameway,Ihavetalkedaboutadonation—butIhavenotactuallysignedacheque!Bytheway,ImustobtainforyouinthemorningahandbookonPrehistoricPotteryoftheNearEast.Ihavesaidthatyouarepassionatelyinterestedinthesubject.’
Janesighed.
‘Beingsecretarytoyouisnosinecure,isit?Anythingelse?’
‘Yes.Ihavesaidthatyousewonbuttonsanddarnsockstoperfection.’
‘DoIhavetogiveademonstrationofthattomorrow,too?’
‘Itwouldbeaswell,perhaps,’saidPoirot,‘iftheytookmywordforit!’
Chapter23
AnneMorisot
AthalfpasttenonthefollowingmorningthemelancholyM.FournierwalkedintoPoirot’ssitting-roomandshookthelittleBelgianwarmlybythehand.
Hisownmannerwasfarmoreanimatedthanusual.
‘Monsieur,’hesaid,‘thereissomethingIwanttotellyou.Ihave,Ithink,atlastseenthepointofwhatyousaidinLondonaboutthefindingoftheblowpipe.’
‘Ah!’Poirot’sfacelightedup.
‘Yes,’saidFourniertakingachair.‘Iponderedmuchoverwhatyouhadsaid.AgainandagainIsaytomyself:Impossiblethatthecrimeshouldhavebeencommittedaswebelieve.Andatlast—atlast—Iseeaconnexionbetweenthatrepetitionofmineandwhatyousaidaboutthefindingoftheblowpipe.’
Poirotlistenedattentively,butsaidnothing.
‘ThatdayinLondonyousaid,Whywastheblowpipefound,whenitmightsoeasilyhavebeenpassedoutthroughtheventilator?AndIthinknowthatIhavetheanswer.Theblowpipewasfoundbecausethemurdererwantedittobefound.’
‘Bravo!’saidPoirot.
‘Thatwasyourmeaning,then?Good,Ithoughtso.AndIwentonastepfurther.Iaskmyself:Whydidthemurdererwanttheblowpipetobefound?AndtothatIgottheanswer:Becausetheblowpipewasnotused.’
‘Bravo!Bravo!Myreasoningexactly.’
‘Isaytomyself:Thepoisoneddart,yes,butnottheblowpipe.Thensomethingelsewasusedtosendthatdartthroughtheair—somethingthatamanorwomanmightputtotheirlipsinanormalmannerandwhichwouldcausenoremark.AndIrememberedyourinsistenceonacompletelistofallthatwasfoundinthepassengers’luggageandupontheirpersons.Thereweretwothingsthatespeciallyattractedmyattention—LadyHorburyhadtwocigaretteholders,andonthetableinfrontoftheDupontswereanumberofKurdishpipes.’
M.Fournierpaused.HelookedatPoirot.Poirotdidnotspeak.
‘Boththosethingscouldhavebeenputtothelipsnaturallywithoutanyoneremarkingonit…Iamright,amInot?’
Poirothesitated,thenhesaid:
‘Youareontherighttrack,yes,butgoalittlefurther;anddonotforgetthewasp.’
‘Thewasp?’Fournierstared.‘No,thereIdonotfollowyou.Icannotseewherethewaspcomesin.’
‘Youcannotsee?ButitistherethatI—’
Hebrokeoffasthetelephonerang.
Hetookupthereceiver.
‘’Allo,’allo.Ah,goodmorning.Yes,itisImyself,HerculePoirot.’InanasidetoFournierhesaid,‘ItisThibault…’
‘Yes—yes,indeed.Verywell.Andyou?M.Fournier?Quiteright.Yes,hehasarrived.Heishereatthismoment.’
Loweringthereceiver,hesaidtoFournier:
‘HetriedtogetyouattheS?reté.Theytoldhimthatyouhadcometoseemehere.Youhadbetterspeaktohim.Hesoundsexcited.’
Fourniertookthetelephone.
‘’Allo—’allo.Yes,itisFournierspeaking…What…What…Inverity,isthatso…?Yes,indeed…Yes…Yes,Iamsurehewill.Wewillcomeroundatonce.’
HereplacedthetelephoneonitshookandlookedacrossatPoirot.
‘Itisthedaughter.ThedaughterofMadameGiselle.’
‘What?’
‘Yes,shehasarrivedtoclaimherheritage.’
‘Wherehasshecomefrom?’
‘America,Iunderstand.Thibaulthasaskedhertoreturnathalfpasteleven.Hesuggestsweshouldgoroundandseehim.’
‘Mostcertainly.Wewillgoimmediately…IwillleaveanoteforMademoiselleGrey.’
Hewrote:
Somedevelopmentshaveoccurredwhichforcemetogoout.IfM.JeanDupontshouldringuporcall,beamiabletohim.Talkofbuttonsandsocks,butnotasyetofprehistoricpottery.Headmiresyou;butheisintelligent!Aurevoir,HerculePoirot.
‘Andnowletuscome,myfriend,’hesaid,rising.‘ThisiswhatIhavebeenwaitingfor—theentryonthesceneoftheshadowyfigureofwhosepresenceIhavebeenconsciousallalong.Now—soon—Ioughttounderstandeverything.’
II
Ma?treThibaultreceivedPoirotandFournierwithgreataffability.
Afteraninterchangeofcomplimentsandpolitequestionsandanswers,thelawyersettleddowntothediscussionofMadameGiselle’sheiress.
‘Ireceivedaletteryesterday,’hesaid,‘andthismorningtheyoungladyherselfcalleduponme.’
‘WhatageisMademoiselleMorisot?’
‘MademoiselleMorisot—orratherMrsRichards—forsheismarried,isexactlytwenty-fouryearsofage.’
‘Shebroughtdocumentstoproveheridentity?’askedFournier.
‘Certainly.Certainly.’
Heopenedafileathiselbow.
‘Tobeginwith,thereisthis.’
ItwasacopyofamarriagecertificatebetweenGeorgeLeman,bachelor,andMarieMorisot—bothofQuebec.Itsdatewas1910.TherewasalsothebirthcertificateofAnneMorisotLeman.Therewerevariousotherdocumentsandpapers.
‘ThisthrowsacertainlightontheearlylifeofMadameGiselle,’saidFournier.
Thibaultnodded.
‘AsfarasIcanpieceitout,’hesaid,‘MarieMorisotwasnurserygovernessorsewing-maidwhenshemetthismanLeman.
‘Hewas,Igather,abadlotwhodesertedhersoonafterthemarriage,andsheresumedhermaidenname.
‘ThechildwasreceivedintheInstitutdeMarieatQuebecandwasbroughtupthere.MarieMorisotorLemanleftQuebecshortlyafterwards—Iimaginewithaman—andcametoFrance.Sheremittedsumsofmoneyfromtimetotime,andfinallydispatchedalumpsumofreadymoneytobegiventothechildonattainingtheageoftwenty-one.AtthattimeMarieMorisotorLemanwas,nodoubt,livinganirregularlife,andconsidereditbettertosunderanypersonalrelations.’
‘Howdidthegirlrealizethatshewastheheiresstoafortune?’
‘Wehaveinserteddiscreetadvertisementsinvariousjournals.ItseemsoneofthesecametothenoticeofthePrincipaloftheInstitutdeMarie,andshewroteortelegraphedtoMrsRichards,whowastheninEurope,butonthepointofreturningtotheStates.’
‘WhoisRichards?’
‘IgatherheisanAmericanorCanadianfromDetroit—byprofessionamakerofsurgicalinstruments.’
‘Hedidnotaccompanyhiswife?’
‘No,heisstillinAmerica.’
‘IsMrsRichardsabletothrowanylightuponapossiblereasonforhermother’smurder?’
Thelawyershookhishead.
‘Sheknowsnothingabouther.Infact,althoughshehadonceheardthePrincipalmentionit,shedidnotevenrememberwhathermother’smaidennamewas.’
‘Itlooks,’saidFournier,‘asthoughherappearanceonthesceneisnotgoingtobeofanyhelpinsolvingthemurderproblem.Not,Imustadmit,thatIeverthoughtitwould.Iamonquiteanothertackatpresent.Myinquirieshavenarroweddowntoachoiceofthreepersons.’
‘Four,’saidPoirot.
‘Youthinkfour?’
‘ItisnotIwhosayfour,butonthetheorythatyouadvancedtomeyoucannotconfineyourselftothreepersons.’Hemadeasuddenrapidmotionwithhishands.‘Thetwocigaretteholders—theKurdishpipesandaflute.Remembertheflute,myfriend.’
Fourniergaveanexclamation,butatthatmomentthedooropenedandanagedclerkmumbled:
‘Theladyhasreturned.’
‘Ah,’saidThibault.‘Nowyouwillbeabletoseetheheiressforyourself.Comein,Madame.LetmepresenttoyouM.FournieroftheS?reté,whoisinchargeinthiscountryoftheinquiriesintoyourmother’sdeath.ThisisM.HerculePoirot,whosenamemaybefamiliartoyouandwhoiskindlygivingushisassistance.MadameRichards.’
Giselle’sdaughterwasadark,chic-lookingyoungwoman.Shewasverysmartlythoughplainlydressed.
Sheheldoutherhandtoeachofthemeninturn,murmuringafewappreciativewords.
‘Though,Ifear,Messieurs,thatIhavehardlythefeelingofadaughterinthematter.Ihavebeentoallintentsandpurposesanorphanallmylife.’
InanswertoFournier’squestionsshespokewarmlyandgratefullyofMèreAngélique,theheadoftheInstitutdeMarie.
‘Shehasalwaysbeenkindnessitselftome.’
‘YoulefttheInstitut—when,Madame?’
‘WhenIwaseighteen,Monsieur.Istartedtoearnmyliving.Iwas,foratime,amanicurist.Ihavealsobeeninadressmaker’sestablishment.ImetmyhusbandinNice.HewasthenjustreturningtotheStates.HecameoveragainonbusinesstoHollandandweweremarriedinRotterdamamonthago.Unfortunately,hehadtoreturntoCanada.Iwasdetained—butIamnowabouttorejoinhim.’
AnneRichards’sFrenchwasfluentandeasy.ShewasclearlymoreFrenchthanEnglish.
‘Youheardofthetragedy—how?’
‘NaturallyIreadofitinthepapers,butIdidnotknow—thatis,Ididnotrealize—thatthevictiminthecasewasmymother.ThenIreceivedatelegramhereinParisfromMèreAngéliquegivingmetheaddressofMa?treThibaultandremindingmeofmymother’smaidenname.’
Fourniernoddedthoughtfully.
Theytalkedalittlefurther,butitseemedclearthatMrsRichardscouldbeoflittleassistancetothemintheirsearchforthemurderer.Sheknewnothingatallofhermother’slifeorbusinessrelations.
Havingelicitedthenameofthehotelatwhichshewasstaying,PoirotandFourniertookleaveofher.
‘Youaredisappointed,monvieux,’saidFournier.‘Youhadsomeideainyourbrainaboutthisgirl?Didyoususpectthatshemightbeanimpostor?Ordoyou,infact,stillsuspectthatsheisanimpostor?’
Poirotshookhisheadinadiscouragedmanner.
‘No—Idonotthinksheisanimpostor.Herproofsofidentitysoundgenuineenough…Itisodd,though,IfeelthatIhaveeitherseenherbefore—orthatsheremindsmeofsomeone…’
‘Alikenesstothedeadwoman?’suggestedFournierdoubtfully.‘Surelynot.’
‘No—itisnotthat—IwishIcouldrememberwhatitwas.Iamsureherfaceremindsmeofsomeone…’
Fournierlookedathimcuriously.
‘Youhavealways,Ithink,beenintriguedbythemissingdaughter.’
‘Naturally,’saidPoirot,hiseyebrowsrisingalittle.‘OfallthepeoplewhomayormaynotbenefitbyGiselle’sdeath,thisyoungwomandoesbenefit—verydefinitely—inhardcash.’
‘True—butdoesthatgetusanywhere?’
Poirotdidnotanswerforaminuteortwo.Hewasfollowingthetrainofhisownthoughts.Hesaidatlast:
‘Myfriend—averylargefortunepassestothisgirl.DoyouwonderthatfromthebeginningIspeculatedastoherbeingimplicated.Therewerethreewomenonthatplane.Oneofthem,MissVenetiaKerr,wasofwell-knownandauthenticatedfamily.Buttheothertwo?EversinceEliseGrandieradvancedthetheorythatthefatherofMadameGiselle’schildwasanEnglishmanIhavekeptitinmymindthatoneofthetwootherwomenmightconceivablybethisdaughter.Theywerebothofapproximatelytherightage.LadyHorburywasachorusgirlwhoseantecedentsweresomewhatobscureandwhoactedunderastagename.MissJaneGrey,assheoncetoldme,hadbeenbroughtupinanorphanage.’
‘Ahha!’saidtheFrenchman.‘Sothatisthewayyourmindhasbeenrunning?OurfriendJappwouldsaythatyouwerebeingover-ingenious.’
‘Itistruethathealwaysaccusesmeofpreferringtomakethingsdifficult.’
‘Yousee?’
‘Butasamatteroffactitisnottrue—Iproceedalwaysinthesimplestmannerimaginable!AndIneverrefusetoacceptfacts.’
‘Butyouaredisappointed?YouexpectedmorefromthisAnneMorisot?’
TheywerejustenteringPoirot’shotel.AnobjectlyingonthereceptiondeskrecalledFournier’smindtosomethingPoirothadsaidearlierinthemorning
‘Ihavenotthankedyou,’hesaid,‘fordrawingmyattentiontotheerrorIhadcommitted.InotedthetwocigaretteholdersofLadyHorburyandtheKurdishpipesoftheDuponts.ItwasunpardonableonmyparttohaveforgottenthefluteofDrBryant,thoughIdonotseriouslysuspecthim—’
‘Youdonot?’
‘No.Hedoesnotstrikemeasthekindofmanto—’
Hestopped.Themanstandingatthereceptiondesktalkingtotheclerkturned,hishandontheflutecase.HisglancefellonPoirotandhisfacelitupingraverecognition.
Poirotwentforward—Fournierdiscreetlywithdrewintothebackground.AswellthatBryantshouldnotseehim.
‘DrBryant,’saidPoirot,bowing.
‘M.Poirot.’
Theyshookhands.AwomanwhohadbeenstandingnearBryantmovedawaytowardsthelift.Poirotsentjustafleetingglanceafterher.
Hesaid:
‘Well,M.ledocteur,areyourpatientsmanagingtodowithoutyouforalittle?’
DrBryantsmiled—thatmelancholyattractivesmilethattheotherrememberedsowell.Helookedtired,butstrangelypeaceful.
‘Ihavenopatientsnow,’hesaid.
Then,movingtowardsalittletable,hesaid:
‘Aglassofsherry,M.Poirot,orsomeotherapéritif?’
‘Ithankyou.’
Theysatdown,andthedoctorgavetheorder.Thenhesaidslowly:
‘No,Ihavenopatientsnow.Ihaveretired.’
‘Asuddendecision?’
‘Notsoverysudden.’
Hewassilentasthedrinksweresetbeforethem.Then,raisingtheglass,hesaid:
‘Itisanecessarydecision.IresignofmyownfreewillbeforeIamstruckofftheregister.’Hewentonspeakinginagentle,farawayvoice.‘Therecomestoeveryoneaturning-pointintheirlives,M.Poirot.Theystandatthecross-roadsandhavetodecide.Myprofessioninterestsmeenormously—itisasorrow—averygreatsorrowtoabandonit.Butthereareotherclaims…Thereis,M.Poirot,thehappinessofahumanbeing.’
Poirotdidnotspeak.Hewaited.
‘Thereisalady—apatientofmine—Iloveherverydearly.Shehasahusbandwhocausesherinfinitemisery.Hetakesdrugs.Ifyouwereadoctoryouwouldknowwhatthatmeant.Shehasnomoneyofherown,soshecannotleavehim…
‘ForsometimeIhavebeenundecided—butnowIhavemadeupmymind.SheandIarenowonourwaytoKenyatobeginanewlife.Ihopethatatlastshemayknowalittlehappiness.Shehassufferedsolong…’
Againhewassilent.Thenhesaidinabriskertone:
‘Itellyouthis,M.Poirot,becauseitwillsoonbepublicproperty,andthesooneryouknowthebetter.’
‘Iunderstand,’saidPoirot.Afteraminutehesaid,‘Youtakeyourflute,Isee?’
DrBryantsmiled.
‘Myflute,M.Poirot,ismyoldestcompanion…Wheneverythingelsefails—musicremains.’
Hishandranlovinglyovertheflutecase,thenwithabowherose.
Poirotrosealso.
‘Mybestwishesforyourfuture,M.ledocteur—andforthatofMadame,’saidPoirot
WhenFournierrejoinedhisfriend,PoirotwasatthedeskmakingarrangementsforatrunkcalltoQuebec.
Chapter24
ABrokenFinger-Nail
‘Whatnow?’criedFournier.‘Youarestillpreoccupiedwiththisgirlwhoinherits?Decidedlyitistheidéefixeyouhavethere.’
‘Notatall,notatall,’saidPoirot.‘Buttheremustbeinallthingsorderandmethod.Onemustfinishwithonethingbeforeproceedingtothenext.’
Helookedround.
‘HereisMademoiselleJane.Supposethatyoucommencedéjeuner.IwilljoinyouassoonasIcan.’
FournieracquiescedandheandJanewentintothedining-room.
‘Well?’saidJanewithcuriosity.‘Whatisshelike?’
‘Sheisalittleovermediumheight,dark,withamattecomplexion,apointedchin—’
‘You’retalkingexactlylikeapassport,’saidJane.‘Mypassportdescriptionissimplyinsulting,Ithink.It’scomposedofmediumsandordinary.Nose,medium;mouthordinary(howdotheyexpectyoutodescribeamouth?);forehead,ordinary;chin,ordinary.’
‘Butnotordinaryeyes,’saidFournier.
‘Eventheyaregrey,whichisnotaveryexcitingcolour.’
‘Andwhohastoldyou,Mademoiselle,thatitisnotanexcitingcolour?’saidtheFrenchman,leaningacrossthetable.
Janelaughed.
‘YourcommandoftheEnglishlanguage,’shesaid,‘ishighlyefficient.TellmemoreaboutAnneMorisot—isshepretty?’
‘Assezbien,’saidFourniercautiously.‘AndsheisnotAnneMorisot.SheisAnneRichards.Sheismarried.’
‘Wasthehusbandthere,too?’
‘No.’
‘Whynot,Iwonder?’
‘BecauseheisinCanadaorAmerica.’
HeexplainedsomeofthecircumstancesofAnne’slife.Justashewasdrawinghisnarrativetoaclose,Poirotjoinedthem.
Helookedalittledejected.
‘Well,moncher?’inquiredFournier.
‘Ispoketotheprincipal—toMèreAngéliqueherself.Itisromantic,youknow,thetransatlantictelephone.Tospeaksoeasilytosomeonenearlyhalfwayacrosstheglobe.’
‘Thetelegraphedphotograph—thattooisromantic.Scienceisthegreatestromancethereis.Butyouweresaying?’
‘ItalkedwithMèreAngélique.SheconfirmedexactlywhatMrsRichardstoldusofthecircumstancesofherhavingbeenbroughtupattheInstitutdeMarie.ShespokequitefranklyaboutthemotherwholeftQuebecwithaFrenchmaninterestedinthewinetrade.Shewasrelievedatthetimethatthechildwouldnotcomeunderhermother’sinfluence.FromherpointofviewGisellewasonthedownwardpath.Moneywassentregularly—butGiselleneversuggestedameeting.’
‘Infactyourconversationwasarepetitionofwhatweheardthismorning.’
‘Practically—exceptthatitwasmoredetailed.AnneMorisotlefttheInstitutdeMariesixyearsagotobecomeamanicurist,afterwardsshehadajobasalady’smaid—andfinallyleftQuebecforEuropeinthatcapacity.Herletterswerenotfrequent,butMèreAngéliqueusuallyheardfromherabouttwiceayear.WhenshesawanaccountoftheinquestinthepapersherealizedthatthisMarieMorisotwasinallprobabilitytheMarieMorisotwhohadlivedinQuebec.’
‘Whataboutthehusband?’askedFournier.‘NowthatweknowdefinitelythatGisellewasmarried,thehusbandmightbecomeafactor?’
‘Ithoughtofthat.Itwasoneofthereasonsformytelephonecall.GeorgeLeman,Giselle’sblackguardofahusband,waskilledintheearlydaysofthewar.’
Hepausedandthenremarkedabruptly:
‘WhatwasitthatIjustsaid—notmylastremark—theonebefore?—Ihaveanideathat—withoutknowingit—Isaidsomethingofsignificance.’
FournierrepeatedaswellashecouldthesubstanceofPoirot’sremarks,butthelittlemanshookhisheadinadissatisfiedmanner.
‘No—no—itwasnotthat.Well,nomatter…’
HeturnedtoJaneandengagedherinconversation.
Atthecloseofthemealhesuggestedthattheyhavecoffeeinthelounge.
Janeagreedandstretchedoutherhandforherbagandgloves,whichwereonthetable.Asshepickedthemupshewincedslightly.
‘Whatisit,Mademoiselle?’
‘Oh,it’snothing,’laughedJane.‘It’sonlyajaggednail.Imustfileit.’
Poirotsatdownagainverysuddenly.
‘Nomd’unnomd’unnom,’hesaidquietly.
Theothertwostaredathiminsurprise
‘M.Poirot?’criedJane.‘Whatisit?’
‘Itis,’saidPoirot,‘thatIremembernowwhythefaceofAnneMorisotisfamiliartome.Ihaveseenherbefore…intheaeroplaneonthedayofthemurder.LadyHorburysentforhertogetanailfile.AnneMorisotwasLadyHorbury’smaid.’
Chapter25
‘IAmAfraid’
Thissuddenrevelationhadanalmoststunningeffectonthethreepeoplesittingroundtheluncheontable.Itopenedupanentirelynewaspectofthecase.
Insteadofbeingapersonwhollyremotefromthetragedy,AnneMorisotwasnowshowntohavebeenactuallypresentonthesceneofthecrime.Ittookaminuteortwoforeveryonetoreadjusttheirideas.
Poirotmadeafranticgesturewithhishands—hiseyesclosed—hisfacecontortedinagony.
‘Alittleminute—alittleminute,’heimploredthem.‘Ihavegottothink,tosee,torealizehowthisaffectsmyideasofthecase.Imustgobackinmymind.Imustremember…Athousandmaledictionsonmyunfortunatestomach.Iwaspreoccupiedonlywithmyinternalsensations!’
‘Shewasactuallyontheplane,then,’saidFournier.‘Isee.Ibegintosee.’
‘Iremember,’saidJane.‘Atall,darkgirl.’Hereyeshalfclosedinaneffortofmemory.‘Madeleine,LadyHorburycalledher.’
‘Thatisit,Madeleine,’saidPoirot.
‘LadyHorburysentheralongtotheendoftheplanetofetchacase—ascarletdressing-case.’
‘Youmean,’saidFournier,‘thatthisgirlwentrightpasttheseatwherehermotherwassitting?’
‘Thatisright.’
‘Themotive,’saidFournier.Hegaveagreatsigh.
‘Andtheopportunity…Yes,itisallthere.’
Thenwithasuddenvehemencemostunlikehisusualmelancholymanner,hebroughtdownhishandwithabangonthetable.
‘But,parbleu!’hecried.‘Whydidnoonementionthisbefore?Whywasshenotincludedamongstthesuspectedpersons?’
‘Ihavetoldyou,myfriend.Ihavetoldyou,’saidPoirotwearily.‘Myunfortunatestomach.’
‘Yes,yes,thatisunderstandable.Buttherewereotherstomachsunaffected—thestewards’,theotherpassengers’.’
‘Ithink,’saidJane,‘thatperhapsitwasbecauseitwassoveryearlythishappened.TheplanehadonlyjustleftLeBourget;andGisellewasaliveandwellanhourorsoafterthat.Itseemedasthoughshemusthavebeenkilledmuchlater.’
‘Thatiscurious,’saidFournierthoughtfully.‘Cantherehavebeenadelayedactionofthepoison?Suchthingshappen…’
Poirotgroanedanddroppedhisheadintohishands.
‘Imustthink.Imustthink…Canitbepossiblethatallalongmyideashavebeenentirelywrong?’
‘Monvieux,’saidFournier,‘suchthingshappen.Theyhappentome.Itispossiblethattheyhavehappenedtoyou.Onehasoccasionallytopocketone’sprideandreadjustone’sideas.’
‘Thatistrue,’agreedPoirot.‘ItispossiblethatallalongIhaveattachedtoomuchimportancetooneparticularthing.Iexpectedtofindacertainclue.Ifoundit,andIbuiltupmycasefromit.ButifIhavebeenwrongfromthebeginning—ifthatparticulararticlewaswhereitwasmerelyastheresultofanaccident…why,then—yes—IwilladmitthatIhavebeenwrong—completelywrong.’
‘Youcannotshutyoureyestotheimportanceofthisturnofevents,’saidFournier.‘Motiveandopportunity—whatmorecanyouwant?’
‘Nothing.Itmustbeasyousay.Thedelayedactionofthepoisonisindeedextraordinary—practicallyspeaking—onewouldsayimpossible.Butwherepoisonsareconcernedtheimpossibledoeshappen.Onehastoreckonwithidiosyncrasy…’
Hisvoicetailedoff.
‘Wemustdiscussaplanofcampaign,’saidFournier.‘Forthemomentitwould,Ithink,beunwisetoarouseAnneMorisot’ssuspicions.Sheiscompletelyunawarethatyouhaverecognizedher.Herbonafidehavebeenaccepted.WeknowthehotelatwhichsheisstayingandwecankeepintouchwithherthroughThibault.Legalformalitiescanalwaysbedelayed.Wehavetwopointsestablished—opportunityandmotive.WehavestilltoprovethatAnneMorisothadsnakevenominherpossession.ThereisalsothequestionoftheAmericanwhoboughttheblowpipeandbribedJulesPerrot.Itmightcertainlybethehusband—Richards.WehaveonlyherwordforitthatheisinCanada.’
‘Asyousay—thehusband…Yes,thehusband.Ah,wait—wait!’
Poirotpressedhishandsuponhistemples.
‘Itisallwrong,’hemurmured.‘Idonotemploythelittlegreycellsofthebraininanorderlyandmethodicalway.No,Ileaptoconclusions.Ithink,perhaps,whatIammeanttothink.No,thatiswrongagain.Ifmyoriginalideawereright,Icouldnotbemeanttothink—’
Hebrokeoff.
‘Ibegyourpardon,’saidJane.
Poirotdidnotanswerforamomentortwo;thenhetookhishandsfromhistemples,satveryuprightandstraightenedtwoforksandasalt-cellarwhichoffendedhissenseofsymmetry.
‘Letusreason,’hesaid.‘AnneMorisotiseitherguiltyorinnocentofthecrime.Ifsheisinnocentwhyhasshelied?Whyhassheconcealedthefactthatshewaslady’smaidtoLadyHorbury?’
‘Why,indeed?’saidFournier.
‘SowesayAnneMorisotisguiltybecauseshehaslied.Butwait.Supposemyfirstsuppositionwascorrect.WillthatsuppositionfitinwithAnneMorisot’sguilt,orwithAnneMorisot’slie?Yes—yes—itmight—givenonepremise.Butinthatcase—andifthatpremiseiscorrect—thenAnneMorisotshouldnothavebeenontheplaneatall.’
Theotherslookedathimpolitely,ifwith,perhaps,aratherperfunctoryinterest.
Fournierthought:
‘IseenowwhattheEnglishman,Japp,meant.Hemakesdifficulties,thisoldone.Hetriestomakeanaffairwhichisnowsimplesoundcomplicated.Hecannotacceptastraightforwardsolutionwithoutpretendingthatitsquareswithhispreconceivedideas.’
Janethought:
‘Idon’tseeintheleastwhathemeans…Whycouldn’tthegirlbeontheplane?ShehadtogowhereverLadyHorburywantedhertogo…Ithinkhe’sratheramountebank,really…’
SuddenlyPoirotdrewinhisbreathwithahiss.
‘Ofcourse,’hesaid.‘Itisapossibility;anditoughttobeverysimpletofindout.’
Herose.
‘Whatnow,myfriend?’askedFournier
‘Againthetelephone,’saidPoirot.
‘ThetransatlantictoQuebec?’
‘ThistimeitismerelyacalltoLondon.’
‘ToScotlandYard?’
‘No,toLordHorbury’shouseinGrosvenorSquare.IfonlyIhavethegoodfortunetofindLadyHorburyathome.’
‘Becareful,myfriend.IfanysuspiciongetsroundtoAnneMorisotthatwehavebeenmakinginquiriesaboutheritwouldnotsuitouraffairs.Aboveall,wemustnotputheruponherguard.’
‘Havenofears.Iwillbediscreet.Iaskonlyonelittlequestion—aquestionofamostharmlessnature.’Hesmiled.‘Youshallcomewithmeifyoulike.’
‘No,no.’
‘Butyes.Iinsist.’
Thetwomenwentoff,leavingJaneinthelounge.
Ittooksomelittletimetoputthecallthrough;butPoirot’sluckwasin.LadyHorburywaslunchingathome.
‘Good.WillyoutellLadyHorburythatitisM.HerculePoirotspeakingfromParis.’Therewasapause.‘Thatisyou,LadyHorbury?No,no,alliswell.Iassureyoualliswell.Itisnotthatmatteratall.Iwantyoutoanswermeaquestion.Yes…WhenyougofromParistoEnglandbyairdoesyourmaidusuallygowithyou,ordoesshegobytrain?Bytrain…Andsoonthatparticularoccasion…Isee…Youaresure?Ah,shehasleftyou.Isee.Sheleftyouverysuddenlyatamoment’snotice.Maisoui,baseingratitude.Itistootrue.Amostungratefulclass!Yes,yes,exactly.No,no,youneednotworry.Aurevoir.Thankyou.’
HereplacedthereceiverandturnedtoFournier,hiseyesgreenandshining.
‘Listen,myfriend,LadyHorbury’smaidusuallytravelledbytrainandboat.OntheoccasionofGiselle’smurderLadyHorburydecidedatthelastmomentthatMadeleinehadbettergobyair,too.’
HetooktheFrenchmanbythearm.
‘Quick,myfriend,’hesaid.‘Wemustgotoherhotel.Ifmylittleideaiscorrect—andIthinkitis—thereisnotimetobelost.’
Fournierstaredathim.ButbeforehecouldframeaquestionPoirothadturnedawayandwasheadingfortherevolvingdoorsleadingoutofthehotel.
Fournierhastenedafterhim.
‘ButIdonotunderstand.Whatisallthis?’
Thecommissionairewasholdingopenthedoorofataxi.PoirotjumpedinandgavetheaddressofAnneMorisot’shotel.
‘Anddrivequickly,butquickly!’
Fournierjumpedinafterhim.
‘Whatflyisthisthathasbittenyou?Whythismadrush—thishaste?’
‘Because,myfriend,if,asIsay,mylittleideaiscorrect—AnneMorisotisinimminentdanger.’
‘Youthinkso?’
Fourniercouldnothelpascepticaltonecreepingintohisvoice.
‘Iamafraid,’saidPoirot.‘Afraid.BonDieu—howthistaxicrawls!’
Thetaxiatthemomentwasdoingagoodfortymilesanhourandcuttinginandoutoftrafficwithamiraculousimmunityduetotheexcellenteyeofthedriver.
‘Itcrawlstosuchanextentthatweshallhaveanaccidentinaminute,’saidFournierdrily.‘AndMademoiselleGrey,wehaveleftherplantedthereawaitingourreturnfromthetelephone,andinsteadweleavethehotelwithoutaword.Itisnotverypolite,that!’
‘Politenessorimpoliteness—whatdoesitmatterinanaffairoflifeanddeath?’
‘Lifeordeath?’Fourniershruggedhisshoulders.
Hethoughttohimself:
‘Itisallverywell,butthisobstinatemadmanmayendangerthewholebusiness.Oncethegirlknowsthatweareonhertrack—’
Hesaidinapersuasivevoice:
‘Seenow,M.Poirot,bereasonable.Wemustgocarefully.’
‘Youdonotunderstand,’saidPoirot.‘Iamafraid—afraid—’
ThetaxidrewupwithajerkatthequiethotelwhereAnneMorisotwasstaying
Poirotsprangoutandnearlycollidedwithayoungmanjustleavingthehotel.
Poirotstoppeddeadforamoment,lookingafterhim.
‘AnotherfacethatIknow—butwhere—?Ah,Iremember—itistheactorRaymondBarraclough.’
Ashesteppedforwardtoenterthehotel,Fournierplacedarestraininghandonhisarm.
‘M.Poirot,Ihavetheutmostrespect,theutmostadmirationforyourmethods—butIfeelverystronglythatnoprecipitateactionmustbetaken.IamresponsiblehereinFrancefortheconductofthiscase…’
Poirotinterruptedhim:
‘Icomprehendyouranxiety;butdonotfearany“precipitateaction”onmypart.Letusmakeinquiriesatthedesk.IfMadameRichardsishereandalliswell—thennoharmisdone—andwecandiscusstogetherourfutureaction.Youdonotobjecttothat?’
‘No,no,ofcoursenot.’
‘Good.’
Poirotpassedthroughtherevolvingdoorandwentuptothereceptiondesk.Fournierfollowedhim.
‘YouhaveaMrsRichardsstayinghere,Ibelieve,’saidPoirot.
‘No,Monsieur.Shewasstayinghere,butshelefttoday.’
‘Shehasleft?’demandedFournier.
‘Yes,Monsieur.’
‘Whendidsheleave?’
Theclerkglancedupattheclock.
‘Alittleoverhalfanhourago.’
‘Washerdepartureunexpected?Wherehasshegone?’
Theclerkstiffenedatthequestionsandwasdisposedtorefusetoanswer;butwhenFournier’scredentialswereproducedtheclerkchangedhistoneandwaseagertogiveanyassistanceinhispower.
No,theladyhadnotleftanaddress.Hethoughtherdeparturewastheresultofasuddenchangeofplans.Shehadformerlysaidshewasmakingastayofaboutaweek.
Morequestions.Theconciergewassummoned,theluggageporters,theliftboys
Accordingtotheconciergeagentlemanhadcalledtoseethelady.Hehadcomewhileshewasout,buthadawaitedherreturn,andtheyhadlunchedtogether.Whatkindofgentleman?AnAmericangentleman—veryAmerican.Shehadseemedsurprisedtoseehim.Afterlunchtheladygaveordersforherluggagetobebroughtdownandputinataxi.
Wherehadshedrivento?ShehaddriventotheGareduNord—atleastthatistheordershehadgiventothetaximan.DidtheAmericangentlemangowithher?No,shehadgonealone.
‘TheGareduNord,’saidFournier.‘ThatmeansEnglandonthefaceofit.Thetwoo’clockservice.Butitmaybeablind.WemusttelephonetoBoulogneandalsotryandgetholdofthattaxi.’
ItwasasthoughPoirot’sfearshadcommunicatedthemselvestoFournier.
TheFrenchman’sfacewasanxious.
Rapidlyandefficientlyhesetthemachineryofthelawinmotion.
Itwasfiveo’clockwhenJane,sittingintheloungeofthehotelwithabook,lookeduptoseePoirotcomingtowardsher.
Sheopenedhermouthreproachfully,butthewordsremainedunspoken.Somethinginhisfacestoppedher.
‘Whatwasit?’shesaid.‘Hasanythinghappened?’
Poirottookbothherhandsinhis.
‘Lifeisveryterrible,Mademoiselle,’hesaid.
SomethinginhistonemadeJanefeelfrightened.
‘Whatisit?’shesaidagain.
Poirotsaidslowly:
‘WhentheboattrainreachedBoulognetheyfoundawomaninafirst-classcarriage—dead.’
ThecolourebbedfromJane’sface.
‘AnneMorisot?’
‘AnneMorisot.Inherhandwasalittleblueglassbottlewhichhadcontainedhydrocyanicacid.’
‘Oh!’saidJane.‘Suicide?’
Poirotdidnotanswerforamomentortwo.Thenhesaid,withtheairofonewhochooseshiswordscarefully:
‘Yes,thepolicethinkitwassuicide.’
‘Andyou?’
Poirotslowlyspreadouthishandsinanexpressivegesture.
‘Whatelse—istheretothink?’
‘Shekilledherself—why?Becauseofremorse—orbecauseshewasafraidofbeingfoundout?’
Poirotshookhishead.
‘Lifecanbeveryterrible,’hesaid.‘Oneneedsmuchcourage.’
‘Tokilloneself?Yes,Isupposeonedoes.’
‘Alsotolive,’saidPoirot,‘oneneedscourage.’
Chapter26
AfterDinnerSpeech
ThenextdayPoirotleftParis.Janestayedbehindwithalistofdutiestoperform.Mostoftheseseemedsingularlymeaninglesstoher,butshecarriedthemouttothebestofherpowers.ShesawJeanDuponttwice.Hementionedtheexpeditionwhichshewastojoin,andJanedidnotdaretoundeceivehimwithoutordersfromPoirot,soshehedgedasbestshecouldandturnedtheconversationtoothermatters.
FivedayslatershewasrecalledtoEnglandbyatelegram.
NormanmetheratVictoriaandtheydiscussedrecentevents.
Verylittlepublicityhadbeengiventothesuicide.TherehadbeenaparagraphinthepapersstatingthataCanadianlady,aMrsRichards,hadcommittedsuicideintheParis-Boulogneexpress,butthatwasall.Therehadbeennomentionofanyconnexionwiththeaeroplanemurder.
BothNormanandJanewereinclinedtobejubilant.Theirtroubles,theyhoped,wereatanend.NormanwasnotsosanguineasJane.
‘Theymaysuspectherofdoinghermotherin,butnowthatshe’stakenthiswayouttheyprobablywon’tbothertogoonwiththecase;andunlessitisprovedpubliclyIdon’tseewhatgooditisgoingtobetoallofuspoordevils.Fromthepointofviewofthepublicweshallremainundersuspicionjustasmuchasever!’
HesaidasmuchtoPoirot,whomhemetafewdayslaterinPiccadilly.
Poirotsmiled.
‘Youarelikealltherest.YouthinkIamanoldmanwhoaccomplishesnothing!Listen,youshallcometonighttodinewithme.Jappiscoming,andalsoourfriendMrClancy.Ihavesomethingstosaythatmaybeinteresting.’
Thedinnerpassedoffpleasantly.Jappwaspatronizingandgoodhumoured,Normanwasinterested,andlittleMrClancywasnearlyasthrilledaswhenhehadrecognizedthefatalthorn.
ItseemedclearthatPoirotwasnotabovetryingtoimpressthelittleauthor.
Afterdinner,whencoffeehadbeendrunk,Poirotclearedhisthroatinaslightlyembarrassedmanner,notfreefromself-importance.
‘Myfriends,’hesaid,‘MrClancyherehasexpressedinterestinwhathewouldcall“mymethods,Watson”.(C’estc?a,n’est-cepas?)Ipropose,ifitwillnotboreyouall’—hepausedsignificantly,andNormanandJappsaidquickly,‘No,no,’and‘Mostinteresting’—‘togiveyoualittlerésuméofmymethodsindealingwiththiscase.’
Hepausedandconsultedsomenotes.JappwhisperedtoNorman:
‘Fancieshimself,doesn’the?Conceit’sthatlittleman’smiddlename.’
Poirotlookedathimreproachfullyandsaid,‘Ahem!’
Threepolitelyinterestedfaceswereturnedtohim,andhebegan:
‘Iwillstartatthebeginning,myfriends.IwillgobacktotheairlinerPrometheusonitsill-fatedjourneyfromParistoCroydon.Iamgoingtotellyoumypreciseideasandimpressionsatthetime—passingontohowIcametoconfirmormodifytheminthelightoffutureevents.
‘When,justbeforewereachedCroydon,DrBryantwasapproachedbythestewardandwentwithhimtoexaminethebody,Iaccompaniedhim.Ihadafeelingthatitmight—whoknows?—besomethinginmyline.Ihave,perhaps,tooprofessionalapointofviewwheredeathsareconcerned.Theyaredivided,inmymind,intotwoclasses—deathswhicharemyaffairanddeathswhicharenotmyaffair—andthoughthelatterclassisinfinitelymorenumerous—neverthelesswheneverIcomeincontactwithdeathIamlikethedogwholiftshisheadandsniffsthescent.
‘DrBryantconfirmedthesteward’sfearthatthewomanwasdead.Astothecauseofdeath,naturallyhecouldnotpronounceonthatwithoutadetailedexamination.Itwasatthispointthatasuggestionwasmade—byM.JeanDupont—thatdeathwasduetoshockfollowingonawaspsting.Infurtheranceofthishypothesis,hedrewattentiontoawaspthathehimselfhadslaughteredshortlybefore.
‘Nowthatwasaperfectlyplausibletheory—andonequitelikelytobeaccepted.Therewasthemarkonthedeadwoman’sneck—closelyresemblingthemarkofasting—andtherewasthefactthatawasphadbeenintheplane.
‘ButatthatmomentIwasfortunateenoughtolookdownandespywhatmightatfirsthavebeentakenforthebodyofyetanotherwasp.Inactualityitwasanativethornwithalittleteasedyellowandblacksilkonit.
‘AtthispointMrClancycameforwardandmadethestatementthatitwasathornshotfromablowpipeafterthemannerofsomenativetribe.Later,asyouallknow,theblowpipeitselfwasdiscovered.
‘BythetimewereachedCroydonseveralideaswereworkinginmymind.OnceIwasdefinitelyonthefirmground,mybrainbegantoworkoncemorewithitsnormalbrilliance.’
‘Goit,M.Poirot,’saidJappwithagrin.‘Don’thaveanyfalsemodesty.’
Poirotthrewhimalookandwenton.
‘Oneideapresenteditselfverystronglytome(asitdidtoeveryoneelse),andthatwastheaudacityofacrimebeingcommittedinsuchamanner—andtheastonishingfactthatnobodynoticeditsbeingdone!
‘Thereweretwootherpointsthatinterestedme.Onewastheconvenientpresenceofthewasp.Theotherwasthediscoveryoftheblowpipe.AsIremarkedaftertheinquesttomyfriendJapp,whyonearthdidthemurderernotgetridofitbypassingitoutthroughtheventilatingholeinthewindow?Thethornitselfmightbedifficulttotraceoridentify,butablowpipewhichstillretainedaportionofitspricelabelwasaverydifferentmatter.
‘Whatwasthesolution?Obviouslythatthemurdererwantedtheblowpipetobefound.
‘Butwhy?Onlyoneanswerseemedlogical.Ifapoisoneddartandablowpipewerefound,itwouldnaturallybeassumedthatthemurderhadbeencommittedbyathornshotfromablowpipe.Thereforeinrealitythemurderhadnotbeencommittedthatway.
‘Ontheotherhand,asmedicalevidencewastoshow,thecauseofdeathwasundoubtedlythepoisonedthorn.Ishutmyeyesandaskedmyself—whatisthesurestandmostreliablewayofplacingapoisonedthorninthejugularvein?Andtheanswercameimmediately:Byhand
‘Andthatimmediatelythrewlightonthenecessityforthefindingoftheblowpipe.Theblowpipeinevitablyconveyedthesuggestionofdistance.Ifmytheorywasright,thepersonwhokilledMadameGisellewasapersonwhowentrightuptohertableandbentoverher.
‘Wastheresuchaperson?Yes,thereweretwopeople.Thetwostewards.EitherofthemcouldgouptoMadameGiselle,leantowardsher,andnobodywouldnoticeanythingunusual.
‘Wasthereanyoneelse?
‘Well,therewasMrClancy.HewastheonlypersoninthecarwhohadpassedimmediatelybyMadameGiselle’sseat—andIrememberedthatitwashewhohadfirstdrawnattentiontotheblowpipeandthorntheory.’
MrClancysprangtohisfeet.
‘Iprotest,’hecried.‘Iprotest.Thisisanoutrage.’
‘Sitdown,’saidPoirot.‘Ihavenotfinishedyet.IhavetoshowyouallthestepsbywhichIarrivedatmyconclusion.
‘Ihadnowthreepersonsaspossiblesuspects—Mitchell,Davis,andMrClancy.Noneofthematfirstsightappearedlikelymurderers,buttherewasmuchinvestigationtobedone.
‘Inextturnedmymindtothepossibilitiesofthewasp.Itwassuggestive,thatwasp.Tobeginwith,noonehadnoticedituntilaboutthetimecoffeewasserved.Thatinitselfwasrathercurious.Iconstructedacertaintheoryofthecrime.Themurdererpresentedtotheworldtwoseparatesolutionsofthetragedy.Onthefirstorsimplest,MadameGisellewasstungbyawaspandhadsuccumbedtoheartfailure.Thesuccessofthatsolutiondependedonwhetherornothemurdererwasinapositiontoretrievethethorn.JappandIagreedthatthatcouldbedoneeasilyenough—solongasnosuspicionoffoulplayhadarisen.TherewastheparticularcolouringofsilkwhichIhadnodoubtwasdeliberatelysubstitutedfortheoriginalcerisesoastosimulatetheappearanceofawasp.
‘Ourmurderer,then,approachesthevictim’stable,insertsthethornandreleasesthewasp!Thepoisonissopowerfulthatdeathwouldoccuralmostimmediately.IfGisellecriedout—itwouldprobablynotbeheardowingtothenoiseoftheplane.Ifitwasjustnoticed,well,therewasthewaspbuzzingabouttoexplainthecry.Thepoorwomanhadbeenstung.
‘That,asIsay,wasplanNo.1.Butsupposingthat,asactuallyhappened,thepoisonedthornwasdiscoveredbeforethemurderercouldretrieveit.Inthatcasethefatisinthefire.Thetheoryofthenaturaldeathisimpossible.Insteadofgettingridoftheblowpipethroughthewindow,itisputinaplacewhereitisboundtobediscoveredwhentheplaneissearched;andatonceitwillbeassumedthattheblowpipewastheinstrumentofthecrime.Theproperatmosphereofdistancewillbecreatedandwhentheblowpipeistraceditwillfocussuspicioninadefiniteandprearrangeddirection.
‘Ihadnowmytheoryofthecrime,andIhadthreesuspectswithabarelypossiblefourth—M.JeanDupont,whohadoutlinedthe“DeathbyaWaspStingtheory”,andwhowassittingonthegangwaysonearGisellethathemightjustpossiblyhavemovedfromitwithoutbeingnoticed.Ontheotherhand,Ididnotreallythinkhewouldhavedaredtotakesucharisk.
‘Iconcentratedontheproblemofthewasp.Ifthemurdererhadbroughtthewaspontotheplaneandreleaseditatthepsychologicalmoment—hemusthavehadsomethinginthenatureofasmallboxinwhichtokeepit.
‘Hencemyinterestinthecontentsofthepassengers’pocketsandhandluggage.
‘AndhereIcameupagainstatotallyunexpecteddevelopment.IfoundwhatIwaslookingfor—butasitseemedtomeonthewrongperson.Therewasanemptysmall-sizedBryant&May’smatch-boxinMrNormanGale’spocket.Butbyeverybody’sevidenceMrGalehadneverpasseddownthegangwayofthecar.Hehadonlyvisitedthetoiletcompartmentandreturnedtohisownseat.
‘Nevertheless,althoughitseemsimpossible,therewasamethodbywhichMrGalecouldhavecommitedthecrime—asthecontentsofhisattachécaseshowed.’
‘Myattachécase?’saidNormanGale.Helookedamusedandpuzzled.‘Why,Idon’tevenremembernowwhatwasinit.’
Poirotsmiledathimamiably.
‘Waitalittleminute.Iwillcometothat.Iamtellingyoumyfirstideas.
‘Toproceed—Ihadfourpersonswhocouldhavedonethecrime—fromthepointofviewofpossibility:thetwostewards,ClancyandGale.
‘Inowlookedatthecasefromtheoppositeangle—thatofmotive—ifamotiveweretocoincidewithapossibility—well,Ihadmymurderer!Butalas,Icouldfindnothingofthekind.MyfriendJapphasaccusedmeoflikingtomakethingsdifficult.Onthecontrary,Iapproachedthisquestionofmotivewithallthesimplicityintheworld.TowhosebenefitwoulditbeifMadameGisellewereremoved?Clearlytoherunknowndaughter’sbenefit—sincethatunknowndaughterwouldinheritafortune.TherewerealsocertainpersonswhowereinMadameGiselle’spower,orshallwesay—whomightbeinGiselle’spower,foraughtweknew.That,then,wasataskofelimination.OfthepassengersintheplaneIcouldonlybecertainofonewhowasundoubtedlymixedupwithGiselle.ThatonewasLadyHorbury.
‘InLadyHorbury’scasethemotivewasveryclear.ShehadvisitedGiselleatherhouseinParisthenightbefore.Shewasdesperateandshehadafriend,ayoungactor,whomighteasilyhaveimpersonatedtheAmericanwhoboughttheblowpipe—andmightalsohavebribedtheclerkinUniversalAirlinestoensurethatGiselletravelledbythe12o’clockservice.
‘Ihad,asitwere,aproblemintwohalves.IdidnotseehowitwaspossibleforLadyHorburytocommitthecrime;andIcouldnotseeforwhatmotivethestewards,MrClancy,orMrGaleshouldwanttocommitit.
‘Always,inthebackofmymind,IconsideredtheproblemofGiselle’sunknowndaughterandheiress.Wereanyofmyfoursuspectsmarried—andifso,couldoneofthewivesbethisAnneMorisot?IfherfatherwasEnglish,thegirlmighthavebeenbroughtupinEngland.Mitchell’swifeIsoondismissed—shewasofgoodoldDorsetstock.Daviswascourtingagirlwhosefatherandmotherwerealive.MrClancywasnotmarried.MrGalewasobviouslyheadoverearsinlovewithMissJaneGrey.
‘ImaysaythatIinvestigatedtheantecedentsofMissGreyverycarefully,havinglearnedfromherincasualconversationthatshehadbeenbroughtupinanorphanagenearDublin.ButIsoonsatisfiedmyselfthatMissGreywasnotMadameGiselle’sdaughter.
‘Imadeoutatableofresults—thestewardshadneithergainednorlostbyMadameGiselle’sdeath—exceptthatMitchellwasobviouslysufferingfromshock.MrClancywasplanningabookonthesubjectbywhichhehopedtomakemoney.MrGalewasfastlosinghispractice.Nothingveryhelpfulthere.
‘Andyet,atthattime,IwasconvincedthatMrGalewasthemurderer—therewastheemptymatch-box—thecontentsofhisattachécase.Apparentlyhelost,notgained,bythedeathofGiselle.Butthoseappearancesmightbefalseappearances.
‘Ideterminedtocultivatehisacquaintance.Itismyexperiencethatnoone,inthecourseofconversation,canfailtogivethemselvesawaysoonerorlater…Everyonehasanirresistibleurgetotalkaboutthemselves.
‘ItriedtogainMrGale’sconfidence.Ipretendedtoconfideinhim,andIevenenlistedhishelp.IpersuadedhimtoaidmeinthefakeblackmailingofLadyHorbury.Anditwasthenthathemadehisfirstmistake.
‘Ihadsuggestedaslightdisguise.Hearrivedtoplayhispartwitharidiculousandimpossibleoutfit!Thewholethingwasafarce.Noone,Ifeltsure,couldplayapartasbadlyashewasproposingtoplayone.Whatthenwasthereasonforthis?Becausehisknowledgeofhisownguiltmadehimcharyofshowinghimselftobeagoodactor.When,however,Ihadadjustedhisridiculousmakeup,hisartisticskillshoweditself.HeplayedhispartperfectlyandLadyHorburydidnotrecognizehim.IwasconvincedthenthathecouldhavedisguisedhimselfasanAmericaninParisandcouldalsohaveplayedthenecessarypartinthePrometheus
‘BythistimeIwasgettingseriouslyworriedaboutMademoiselleJane.Eithershewasinthisbusinesswithhim,orelseshewasentirelyinnocent—andinthelattercaseshewasavictim.Shemightwakeuponedaytofindherselfmarriedtoamurderer.
Withtheobjectofpreventingaprecipitatemarriage,ItookMademoiselleJanetoParisasmysecretary.
‘Itwaswhilstweweretherethatthemissingheiressappearedtoclaimherfortune.IwashauntedbyaresemblancethatIcouldnotplace.Ididplaceitintheend—buttoolate…
‘Atfirstthediscoverythatshehadactuallybeenintheplaneandhadliedaboutitseemedtooverthrowallmytheories.Here,overwhelmingly,wastheguiltyperson.
‘Butifshewereguiltyshehadanaccomplice—themanwhoboughttheblowpipeandbribedJulesPerrot.
‘Whowasthatman?Wasitconceivablyherhusband?
‘And—then—suddenlyIsawthetruesolution.True,thatis,ifonepointcouldbeverified.
‘FormysolutiontobecorrectAnneMorisotoughtnottohavebeenontheplane.
‘IrangupLadyHorburyandgotmyanswer.Themaid,Madeleine,travelledintheplanebyalast-minutewhimofhermistress.’
Hestopped.
MrClancysaid:
‘Ahem—but—I’mafraidI’mnotquiteclear.’
‘Whendidyoustoppitchingonmeasthemurderer?’askedNorman.
Poirotwheeledroundonhim.
‘Ineverstopped.Youarethemurderer…Wait—Iwilltellyoueverything.ForthelastweekJappandIhavebeenbusy—Itistruethatyoubecameadentisttopleaseyouruncle—JohnGale.Youtookhisnamewhenyoucameintopartnershipwithhim—butyouwerehissister’sson—nothisbrother’s.YourrealnameisRichards.ItwasasRichardsthatyoumetthegirlAnneMorisotatNicelastwinter,whenshewastherewithhermistress.Thestoryshetolduswastrueastothefactsofherchildhood,butthelatterpartwaseditedcarefullybyyou.Shedidknowhermother’smaidenname.GisellewasatMonteCarlo—shewaspointedoutandherrealnamewasmentioned.Yourealizedthattheremightbealargefortunetobegot.Itappealedtoyourgambler’snature.ItwasfromAnneMorisotthatyoulearntofLadyHorbury’sconnexionwithGiselle.Theplanofthecrimeformeditselfinyourhead.GisellewastobemurderedinsuchawaythatsuspicionwouldfallonLadyHorbury.Yourplansmaturedandfinallyfructified.YoubribedtheclerkinUniversalAirlinessothatGiselleshouldtravelonthesameplaneasLadyHorbury.AnneMorisothadtoldyouthatsheherselfwasgoingtoEnglandbytrain—youneverexpectedhertobeontheplane—anditseriouslyjeopardizedyourplans.IfitwasonceknownthatGiselle’sdaughterandheiresshadbeenontheplanesuspicionwouldnaturallyhavefallenuponher.Youroriginalideawasthatsheshouldclaimtheinheritancewithaperfectalibi,sinceshewouldhavebeenonatrainorboatatthetimeofthecrime;andthenyouwouldhavemarriedher.
‘Thegirlwasbythistimeinfatuatedwithyou.Butitwasmoneyyouwereafter—notthegirlherself.
‘Therewasanothercomplicationtoyourplans.AtLePinetyousawMademoiselleJaneGreyandfellmadlyinlovewithher.Yourpassionforherdroveyouontoplayamuchmoredangerousgame.
‘Youintendedtohaveboththemoneyandthegirlyouloved.Youwerecommittingamurderforthesakeofmoney,andyouwereinnomindtorelinquishthefruitsofthecrime.YoufrightenedAnneMorisotbytellingherthatifshecameforwardatoncetoproclaimheridentityshewouldcertainlybesuspectedofthemurder.Insteadyouinducedhertoaskforafewdays’leave,andyouwenttogethertoRotterdam,whereyouweremarried.
‘Induecourseyouprimedherhowtoclaimthemoney.Shewastosaynothingofheremploymentaslady’smaid,anditwasveryclearlytobemadeplainthatsheandherhusbandhadbeenabroadatthetimeofthemurder.
‘Unfortunately,thedateplannedforAnneMorisottogotoParisandclaimherinheritancecoincidedwithmyarrivalinParis,whereMissGreyhadaccompaniedme.Thatdidnotsuityourbookatall.EitherMademoiselleJaneormyselfmightrecognizeinAnneMorisottheMadeleinewhohadbeenLadyHorbury’smaid.
‘Youtriedtogetintouchwithherintime,butfailed.YoufinallyarrivedinParisyourselfandfoundshehadalreadygonetothelawyer.Whenshereturnedshetoldyouofhermeetingwithme.Thingswerebecomingdangerous,andyoumadeupyourmindtoactquickly.
‘Ithadbeenyourintentionthatyournew-madewifeshouldnotsurviveheraccessiontowealthverylong.Immediatelyafterthemarriageceremonyyouhadbothmadewillsleavingallyouhadonetotheother!Averytouchingbusiness.
‘Youintended,Ifancy,tofollowafairlyleisurelycourse.YouwouldhavegonetoCanada—ostensiblybecauseofthefailureofyourpractice.ThereyouwouldhaveresumedthenameofRichardsandyourwifewouldhaverejoinedyou.AllthesameIdonotfancyitwouldhavebeenverylongbeforeMrsRichardsregrettablydied,leavingafortunetoa
PoirotpausedandNormanGalethrewbackhisheadandlaughed.
‘Youareverycleveratknowingwhatpeopleintendtodo!YououghttoadoptMrClancy’sprofession!’Histonedeepenedtooneofanger.‘Ineverheardsuchafarragoofnonsense.Whatyouimagined,M.Poirot,ishardlyevidence!’
Poirotdidnotseemputout.Hesaid:
‘Perhapsnot.But,then,Ihavesomeevidence.’
‘Really?’sneeredNorman.‘PerhapsyouhaveevidenceastohowIkilledoldGisellewheneveryoneintheaeroplaneknowsperfectlywellIneverwentnearher?’
‘Iwilltellyouexactlyhowyoucommittedthecrime,’saidPoirot.‘Whataboutthecontentsofyourdispatch-case?Youwereonaholiday.Whytakeadentist’slinencoat?ThatiswhatIaskedmyself.Andtheansweristhis—becauseitresembledsocloselyasteward’scoat…
‘Thatiswhatyoudid.Whencoffeewasservedandthestewardshadgonetotheothercompartmentyouwenttothetoilet,putonyourlinencoat,paddedyourcheekswithcottonwoolrolls,cameout,seizedacoffeespoonfromtheboxinthepantryopposite,hurrieddownthegangwaywiththesteward’squickrun,spooninhand,toGiselle’stable.Youthrustthethornintoherneck,openedthematch-boxandletthewaspescape,hurriedbackintothetoilet,changedyourcoatandemergedleisurelytoreturntoyourtable.Thewholethingtookonlyacoupleofminutes.
‘Nobodynoticesastewardparticularly.TheonlypersonwhomighthaverecognizedyouwasMademoiselleJane.Butyouknowwomen!Assoonasawomanisleftalone(particularlywhensheistravellingwithanattractiveyoungman)sheseizestheopportunitytohaveagoodlookinherhandmirror,powderhernoseandadjusthermakeup.’
‘Really,’sneeredGale.‘Amostinterestingtheory;butitdidn’thappen.Anythingelse?’
‘Quitealot,’saidPoirot.‘AsIhavejustsaid,inthecourseofconversationamangiveshimselfaway…YouwereimprudentenoughtomentionthatforawhileyouwereonafarminSouthAfrica.Whatyoudidnotsay,butwhatIhavesincefoundout,isthatitwasasnakefarm…’
ForthefirsttimeNormanGaleshowedfear.Hetriedtospeak,butthewordswouldnotcome.
Poirotcontinued:
‘YouwerethereunderyourownnameofRichards;aphotographofyoutransmittedbytelephonehasbeenrecognized.ThatsamephotographhasbeenidentifiedinRotterdamasthemanRichardswhomarriedAnneMorisot.’
AgainNormanGaletriedtospeakandfailed.Hiswholepersonalityseemedtochange.Thehandsome,vigorousyoungmanturnedintoarat-likecreaturewithfurtiveeyeslookingforawayofescapeandfindingnone…
‘Itwashasteruinedyourplan,’saidPoirot.‘TheSuperioroftheInstitutdeMariehurriedthingsonbywiringtoAnneMorisot.Itwouldhavelookedsuspicioustoignorethatwire.Youhadimpressedituponyourwifethatunlessshesuppressedcertainfactseithersheoryoumightbesuspectedofmurder,sinceyouhadbothunfortunatelybeenintheplanewhenGisellewaskilled.WhenyoumetherafterwardsandyoulearntthatIhadbeenpresentattheinterviewyouhurriedthingson.YouwereafraidImightgetthetruthoutofAnne—perhapssheherselfwasbeginningtosuspectyou.Youhustledherawayoutofthehotelandintotheboattrain.Youadministeredprussicacidtoherbyforceandyoulefttheemptybottleinherhand.’
‘Alotofdamnedlies…’
‘Oh,no.Therewasabruiseonherneck.’
‘Damnedlies,Itellyou.’
‘Youevenleftyourfingerprintsonthebottle.’
‘Youlie.Iwore—’
‘Ah,youworegloves…?Ithink,Monsieur,thatlittleadmissioncooksyourgander.’
‘Youdamnedinterferinglittlemountebank!’Lividwithpassion,hisfaceunrecognizable,GalemadeaspringatPoirot.Japp,however,wastooquickforhim.Holdinghiminacapableunemotionalgrip,Jappsaid:
‘JamesRichards,aliasNormanGale,Iholdawarrantforyourarrestonthechargeofwilfulmurder.Imustwarnyouthatanythingyousaywillbetakendownandusedinevidence.’
Aterribleshuddershooktheman.Heseemedonthepointofcollapse.
Acoupleofplain-clothesmenwerewaitingoutside.NormanGalewastakenaway
LeftalonewithPoirot,littleMrClancydrewadeepbreathofecstasy.
‘M.Poirot,’hesaid.‘Thathasbeenabsolutelythemostthrillingexperienceofmylife.Youhavebeenwonderful!’
Poirotsmiledmodestly.
‘No,no.JappdeservesasmuchcreditasIdo.HehasdonewondersinidentifyingGaleasRichards.TheCanadianpolicewantRichards.Agirlhewasmixedupwiththereissupposedtohavecommittedsuicide,butfactshavecometolightwhichseemtopointtomurder.’
‘Terrible,’MrClancychirped.
‘Akiller,’saidPoirot.‘Andlikemanykillers,attractivetowomen.’
MrClancycoughed.
‘Thatpoorgirl,JaneGrey.’
Poirotshookhisheadsadly.
‘Yes,asIsaidtoher,lifecanbeveryterrible.Butshehascourage.Shewillcomethrough.’
Withanabsent-mindedhandhearrangedapileofpicturepapersthatNormanGalehaddisarrangedinhiswildspring.
Somethingarrestedhisattention—asnapshotofVenetiaKerrataracemeeting,‘talkingtoLordHorburyandafriend.’
HehandedittoMrClancy.
‘Youseethat?Inayear’stimetherewillbeanannouncement:“AmarriageisarrangedandwillshortlytakeplacebetweenLordHorburyandtheHon.VenetiaKerr.”Anddoyouknowwhowillhavearrangedthatmarriage?HerculePoirot!ThereisanothermarriagethatIhavearranged,too.’
‘LadyHorburyandMrBarraclough?’
‘Ah,no,inthatmatterItakenointerest.’Heleanedforward.‘No—IrefertoamarriagebetweenM.JeanDupontandMissJaneGrey.Youwillsee.’
II
ItwasamonthlaterthatJanecametoPoirot.
‘Ioughttohateyou,M.Poirot.’
Shelookedpaleandfinedrawnwithdarkcirclesroundhereyes.
Poirotsaidgently:
‘Hatemealittleifyouwill.ButIthinkyouareoneofthosewhowouldratherlooktruthinthefacethanliveinafool’sparadise;andyoumightnothavelivedinitsoverylong.Gettingridofwomenisavicethatgrows.’
‘Hewassoterriblyattractive,’saidJane.
Sheadded:
‘Ishallneverfallinloveagain.’
‘Naturally,’agreedPoirot.‘Thatsideoflifeisfinishedforyou.’
Janenodded.
‘ButwhatImustdoistohavework—somethinginterestingthatIcouldlosemyselfin.’
Poirottiltedbackhischairandlookedattheceiling.
‘IshouldadviseyoutogotoPersiawiththeDuponts.Thatisinterestingwork,ifyoulike.’
‘But—but—Ithoughtthatwasonlycamouflageonyourpart.’
Poirotshookhishead.
‘Onthecontrary—IhavebecomesointerestedinarchaeologyandprehistoricpotterythatIsentthechequeforthedonationIhadpromised.Iheardthismorningthattheywereexpectingyoutojointheexpedition.Canyoudrawatall?’
‘Yes,Iwasrathergoodatdrawingatschool.’
‘Excellent.Ithinkyouwillenjoyyourseason.’
‘Dotheyreallywantmetocome?’
‘Theyarecountingonit.’
‘Itwouldbewonderful,’saidJane,‘togetrightaway—’
Alittlecolourroseinherface.
‘M.Poirot—’Shelookedathimsuspiciously.‘You’renot—you’renot—beingkind?’
‘Kind?’saidPoirotwithalivelyhorrorattheidea.‘Icanassureyou,Mademoiselle—thatwheremoneyisconcernedIamstrictlyamanofbusiness—’
HeseemedsooffendedthatJanequicklybeggedhispardon.
‘Ithink,’shesaid,‘thatI’dbettergotosomemuseumsandlookatsomeprehistoricpottery.’
‘Averygoodidea.’
AtthedoorwayJanepausedandthencameback.
‘Youmayn’thavebeenkindinthatparticularway,butyouhavebeenkind—tome.’
Shedroppedakissonthetopofhisheadandwentoutagain.
‘?a,c’esttrèsgentil!’saidHerculePoirot.
AboutAgathaChristie
AgathaChristieisknownthroughouttheworldastheQueenofCrime.HerbookshavesoldoverabillioncopiesinEnglishandanotherbillionin100foreignlanguages.Sheisthemostwidelypublishedauthorofalltimeandinanylanguage,outsoldonlybytheBibleandShakespeare.MrsChristieistheauthorofeightycrimenovelsandshortstorycollections,nineteenplays,andsixnovelswrittenunderthenameofMaryWestmacott.
AgathaChristie’sfirstnovel,TheMysteriousAffairatStyles,waswrittentowardstheendofWorldWarI(duringwhichsheservedintheVoluntaryAidDetachments).InitshecreatedHerculePoirot,thelittleBelgianinvestigatorwhowasdestinedtobecomethemostpopulardetectiveincrimefictionsinceSherlockHolmes.Afterhavingbeenrejectedbyanumberofhouses,TheMysteriousAffairatStyleswaseventuallypublishedbyTheBodleyHeadin1920.
In1926,nowaveragingabookayear,AgathaChristiewrotehermasterpiece.TheMurderofRogerAckroydwasthefirstofherbookstobepublishedbyWilliamCollinsandmarkedthebeginningofanauthor-publisherrelationshipthatlastedforfiftyyearsandproducedoverseventybooks.TheMurderofRogerAckroydwasalsothefirstofAgathaChristie’sworkstobedramatised—asAlibi—andtohaveasuccessfulruninLondon’sWestEnd.TheMousetrap,hermostfamousplay,openedin1952andrunstothisdayatStMartin’sTheatreintheWestEnd;itisthelongest-runningplayinhistory.
AgathaChristiewasmadeaDamein1971.Shediedin1976,sincewhenanumberofherbookshavebeenpublished:thebestsellingnovelSleepingMurderappearedin1976,followedbyAnAutobiographyandtheshortstorycollectionsMissMarple’sFinalCases;ProblematPollensaBay;andWhiletheLightLasts.In1998,BlackCoffeewasthefirstofherplaystobenovelisedbyCharlesOsborne,MrsChristie’sbiographer.
Credits
Coverbydesignedbydavid.co.uk?HarperCollins/AgathaChristieLtd2007
TheAgathaChristieCollection
ChristieCrimeClassics
TheManintheBrownSuit
TheSecretofChimneys
TheSevenDialsMystery
TheMysteriousMrQuin
TheSittafordMystery
TheHoundofDeath
TheListerdaleMystery
WhyDidn’tTheyAskEvans?
ParkerPyneInvestigates
MurderIsEasy
AndThenThereWereNone
TowardsZero
DeathComesastheEnd
SparklingCyanide
CrookedHouse
TheyCametoBaghdad
DestinationUnknown
Spider’sWeb*
TheUnexpectedGuest*
OrdealbyInnocence
ThePaleHorse
EndlessNight
PassengerToFrankfurt
ProblematPollensaBay
WhiletheLightLasts
HerculePoirotInvestigates
TheMysteriousAffairatStyles
TheMurderontheLinks
PoirotInvestigates
TheMurderofRogerAckroyd
TheBigFour
TheMysteryoftheBlueTrain
BlackCoffee*
PerilatEndHouse
LordEdgwareDies
MurderontheOrientExpress
Three-ActTragedy
DeathintheClouds
TheABCMurders
MurderinMesopotamia
CardsontheTable
MurderintheMews
DumbWitness
DeathontheNile
AppointmentwithDeath
HerculePoirot’sChristmas
SadCypress
One,Two,BuckleMyShoe
EvilUndertheSun
FiveLittlePigs
TheHollow
TheLaboursofHercules
TakenattheFlood
MrsMcGinty’sDead
AftertheFuneral
HickoryDickoryDock
DeadMan’sFolly
CatAmongthePigeons
TheAdventureoftheChristmasPudding
TheClocks
ThirdGirl
Hallowe’enParty
ElephantsCanRemember
Poirot’sEarlyCases
Curtain:Poirot’sLastCase
MissMarpleMysteries
TheMurderattheVicarage
TheThirteenProblems
TheBodyintheLibrary
TheMovingFinger
AMurderIsAnnounced
TheyDoItwithMirrors
APocketFullofRye
4.50fromPaddington
TheMirrorCrack’dfromSidetoSide
ACaribbeanMystery
AtBertram’sHotel
Nemesis
SleepingMurder
MissMarple’sFinalCases
Tommy&Tuppence
TheSecretAdversary
PartnersinCrime
NorM?
BythePrickingofMyThumbs
PosternofFate
PublishedasMaryWestmacott
Giant’sBread
UnfinishedPortrait
AbsentintheSpring
TheRoseandtheYewTree
ADaughter’saDaughter
TheBurden
Memoirs
AnAutobiography
Come,TellMeHowYouLive
PlayCollections
TheMousetrapandSelectedPlays
WitnessfortheProsecutionandSelectedPlays
*novelisedbyCharlesOsborne
www.agathachristie.com
FormoreinformationaboutAgathaChristie,pleasevisittheofficialwebsite.
Copyright
Thisbookisaworkoffiction.Thecharacters,incidents,anddialoguearedrawnfromtheauthors’imaginationandarenottobeconstruedasreal.Anyresemblancetoactualeventsorpersons,livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.
DEATHINTHECLOUDS.Copyright?1935AgathaChristieLimited(aChorioncompany).AllrightsreservedunderInternationalandPan-AmericanCopyrightConventions.Bypaymentoftherequiredfees,youhavebeengrantedthenon-exclusive,non-transferablerighttoaccessandreadthetextofthise-bookon-screen.Nopartofthistextmaybereproduced,transmitted,down-loaded,decompiled,reverseengineered,orstoredinorintroducedintoanyinformationstorageandretrievalsystem,inanyformorbyanymeans,whetherelectronicormechanical,nowknownorhereinafterinvented,withouttheexpresswrittenpermissionofHarperCollinse-books.