Double Sin and Other Stories

DoubleSinandOtherStories
Contents
Cover
TitlePage
1DoubleSin
2Wasps’Nest
3TheTheftoftheRoyalRuby
4TheDressmaker’sDoll
5Greenshaw’sFolly
6TheDoubleClue
7TheLastSéance
8Sanctuary
AbouttheAuthor
TheAgathaChristieCollection
RelatedProducts
Copyright
AboutthePublisher
One
DOUBLESIN
“DoubleSin”wasfirstpublishedas“ByRoadorRail”intheSundayDispatch,23September1928.
IhadcalledinatmyfriendPoirot’sroomstofindhimsadlyoverworked.SomuchhadhebecometheragethateveryrichwomanwhohadmislaidabraceletorlostapetkittenrushedtosecuretheservicesofthegreatHerculePoirot.MylittlefriendwasastrangemixtureofFlemishthriftandartisticfervour.Heacceptedmanycasesinwhichhehadlittleinterestowingtothefirstinstinctbeingpredominant.
Healsoundertookcasesinwhichtherewasalittleornomonetaryrewardsheerlybecausetheprobleminvolvedinterestedhim.Theresultwasthat,asIsay,hewasoverworkinghimself.Headmittedasmuchhimself,andIfoundlittledifficultyinpersuadinghimtoaccompanymeforaweek’sholidaytothatwell-knownSouthCoastresort,Ebermouth.
WehadspentfourveryagreeabledayswhenPoirotcametome,anopenletterinhishand.
“Monami,youremembermyfriendJosephAarons,thetheatricalagent?”
Iassentedafteramoment’sthought.Poirot’sfriendsaresomanyandsovaried,andrangefromdustmentodukes.
“Ehbien,Hastings,JosephAaronsfindshimselfatCharlockBay.Heisfarfromwell,andthereisalittleaffairthatitseemsisworryinghim.Hebegsmetogooverandseehim.Ithink,monami,thatImustaccedetohisrequest.Heisafaithfulfriend,thegoodJosephAarons,andhasdonemuchtoassistmeinthepast.”
“Certainly,ifyouthinkso,”Isaid.“IbelieveCharlockBayisabeautifulspot,andasithappensI’veneverbeenthere.”
“Thenwecombinebusinesswithpleasure,”saidPoirot.“Youwillinquirethetrains,yes?”
“Itwillprobablymeanachangeortwo,”Isaidwithagrimace.“Youknowwhatthesecross-countrylinesare.TogofromtheSouthDevoncoasttotheNorthDevoncoastissometimesaday’sjourney.”
However,oninquiry,IfoundthatthejourneycouldbeaccomplishedbyonlyonechangeatExeterandthatthetrainsweregood.IwashasteningbacktoPoirotwiththeinformationwhenIhappenedtopasstheofficesoftheSpeedycarsandsawwrittenup:
Tomorrow.All-dayexcursiontoCharlockBay.Starting8:30throughsomeofthemostbeautifulsceneryinDevon.
Iinquiredafewparticularsandreturnedtothehotelfullofenthusiasm.Unfortunately,IfoundithardtomakePoirotsharemyfeelings.
“Myfriend,whythispassionforthemotorcoach?Thetrain,seeyou,itistrue?Thetyres,theydonotburst;theaccidents,theydonothappen.Oneisnotincommodedbytoomuchair.Thewindowscanbeshutandnodraughtsadmitted.”
Ihinteddelicatelythattheadvantageoffreshairwaswhatattractedmemosttothemotor-coachscheme.
“Andifitrains?YourEnglishclimateissouncertain.”
“There’sahoodandallthat.Besides,ifitrainsbadly,theexcursiondoesn’ttakeplace.”
“Ah!”saidPoirot.“Thenletushopethatitrains.”
“Ofcourse,ifyoufeellikethatand….”
“No,no,monami.Iseethatyouhavesetyourheartonthetrip.Fortunately,Ihavemygreatcoatwithmeandtwomufflers.”Hesighed.“ButshallwehavesufficienttimeatCharlockBay?”
“Well,I’mafraiditmeansstayingthenightthere.Yousee,thetourgoesroundbyDartmoor.WehavelunchatMonkhampton.WearriveatCharlockBayaboutfouro’clock,andthecoachstartsbackatfive,arrivinghereatteno’clock.”
“So!”saidPoirot.“Andtherearepeoplewhodothisforpleasure!Weshall,ofcourse,getareductionofthefaresincewedonotmakethereturnjourney?”
“Ihardlythinkthat’slikely.”
“Youmustinsist.”
“Comenow,Poirot,don’tbemean.Youknowyou’recoiningmoney.”
“Myfriend,itisnotthemeanness.Itisthebusinesssense.IfIwereamillionaire,Iwouldpayonlywhatwasjustandright.”
AsIhadforeseen,however,Poirotwasdoomedtofailinthisrespect.ThegentlemanwhoissuedticketsattheSpeedyofficewascalmandunimpassionedbutadamant.Hispointwasthatweoughttoreturn.HeevenimpliedthatweoughttopayextrafortheprivilegeofleavingthecoachatCharlockBay.
Defeated,Poirotpaidovertherequiredsumandlefttheoffice.
“TheEnglish,theyhavenosenseofmoney,”hegrumbled.“Didyouobserveayoungman,Hastings,whopaidoverthefullfareandyetmentionedhisintentionofleavingthecoachatMonkhampton?”
“Idon’tthinkIdid.Asamatteroffact….”
“YouwereobservingtheprettyyoungladywhobookedNo.5,thenextseattoours.Ah!Yes,myfriend,Isawyou.AndthatiswhywhenIwasonthepointoftakingseatsNo.13and14—whichareinthemiddleandaswellshelteredasitispossibletobe—yourudelypushedyourselfforwardandsaidthat3and4wouldbebetter.”
“Really,Poirot,”Isaid,blushing.
“Auburnhair—alwaystheauburnhair!”
“Atanyrate,shewasmoreworthlookingatthananoddyoungman.”
“Thatdependsuponthepointofview.Tome,theyoungmanwasinteresting.”
SomethingrathersignificantinPoirot’stonemademelookathimquickly.“Why?Whatdoyoumean?”
“Oh,donotexciteyourself.ShallIsaythatheinterestedmebecausehewastryingtogrowamoustacheandasyettheresultispoor.”Poirotstrokedhisownmagnificentmoustachetenderly.“Itisanart,”hemurmured,“thegrowingofthemoustache!Ihavesympathyforallwhoattemptit.”
ItisalwaysdifficultwithPoirottoknowwhenheisseriousandwhenheismerelyamusinghimselfatone’sexpense.Ijudgeditsafesttosaynomore.
Thefollowingmorningdawnedbrightandsunny.Areallygloriousday!Poirot,however,wastakingnochances.Heworeawoollywaistcoat,amackintosh,aheavyovercoat,andtwomufflers,inadditiontowearinghisthickestsuit.Healsoswallowedtwotabletsof“Anti-grippe”beforestartingandpackedafurthersupply.
Wetookacoupleofsmallsuitcaseswithus.Theprettygirlwehadnoticedthedaybeforehadasmallsuitcase,andsodidtheyoungmanwhomIgatheredtohavebeentheobjectofPoirot’ssympathy.Otherwise,therewasnoluggage.Thefourpieceswerestowedawaybythedriver,andwealltookourplaces.
Poirot,rathermaliciously,Ithought,assignedmetheoutsideplaceas“Ihadthemaniaforthefreshair”andhimselfoccupiedtheseatnexttoourfairneighbour.Presently,however,hemadeamends.Themaninseat6wasanoisyfellow,inclinedtobefacetiousandboisterous,andPoirotaskedthegirlinalowvoiceifshewouldliketochange
Shewasevidentlyquiteyoung,notmorethannineteen,andasingenuousasachild.Shesoonconfidedtousthereasonforhertrip.Shewasgoing,itseemed,onbusinessforherauntwhokeptamostinterestingantiqueshopinEbermouth.
Thisaunthadbeenleftinveryreducedcircumstancesonthedeathofherfatherandhadusedhersmallcapitalandahousefulofbeautifulthingswhichherfatherhadlefthertostartinbusiness.Shehadbeenextremelysuccessfulandhadmadequiteanameforherselfinthetrade.Thisgirl,MaryDurrant,hadcometobewithherauntandlearnthebusinessandwasveryexcitedaboutit—muchpreferringittotheotheralternative—becominganurserygovernessorcompanion.
Poirotnoddedinterestandapprovaltoallthis.
“Mademoisellewillbesuccessful,Iamsure,”hesaidgallantly.“ButIwillgiveheralittlewordofadvice.Donotbetootrusting,mademoiselle.Everywhereintheworldthereareroguesandvagabonds,evenitmaybeonthisverycoachofours.Oneshouldalwaysbeontheguard,suspicious!”
Shestaredathimopenmouthed,andhenoddedsapiently.
“Butyes,itisasIsay.Whoknows?EvenIwhospeaktoyoumaybeamalefactoroftheworstdescription.”
Andhetwinkledmorethaneverathersurprisedface.
WestoppedforlunchatMonkhampton,and,afterafewwordswiththewaiter,Poirotmanagedtosecureusasmalltableforthreeclosebythewindow.Outside,inabigcourtyard,abouttwentychar-a-bancswereparked—char-a-bancswhichhadcomefromalloverthecountry.Thehoteldiningroomwasfull,andthenoisewasratherconsiderable.
“Onecanhavealtogethertoomuchoftheholidayspirit,”Isaidwithagrimace.
MaryDurrantagreed.“Ebermouthisquitespoiledinthesummersnowadays.Myauntsaysitusedtobequitedifferent.Nowonecanhardlygetalongthepavementsforthecrowd.”
“Butitisgoodforbusiness,mademoiselle.”
“Notforoursparticularly.Wesellonlyrareandvaluablethings.Wedonotgoinforcheapbric-a-brac.MyaunthasclientsalloverEngland.Iftheywantaparticularperiodtableorchair,oracertainpieceofchina,theywritetoher,and,soonerorlater,shegetsitforthem.Thatiswhathashappenedinthiscase.”
Welookedinterestedandshewentontoexplain.AcertainAmericangentleman,Mr.J.BakerWood,wasaconnoisseurandcollectorofminiatures.Averyvaluablesetofminiatureshadrecentlycomeintothemarket,andMissElizabethPenn—Mary’saunt—hadpurchasedthem.ShehadwrittentoMr.Wooddescribingtheminiaturesandnamingaprice.Hehadrepliedatonce,sayingthathewaspreparedtopurchaseiftheminiatureswereasrepresentedandaskingthatsomeoneshouldbesentwiththemforhimtoseewherehewasstayingatCharlockBay.MissDurranthadaccordinglybeendespatched,actingasrepresentativeforthefirm.
“They’relovelythings,ofcourse,”shesaid.“ButIcan’timagineanyonepayingallthatmoneyforthem.Fivehundredpounds!Justthinkofit!They’rebyCosway.IsitCoswayImean?Igetsomixedupinthesethings.”
Poirotsmiled.“Youarenotyetexperienced,eh,mademoiselle?”
“I’vehadnotraining,”saidMaryruefully.“Weweren’tbroughtuptoknowaboutoldthings.It’salottolearn.”
Shesighed.Thensuddenly,Isawhereyeswideninsurprise.Shewassittingfacingthewindow,andherglancenowwasdirectedoutofthatwindow,intothecourtyard.Withahurriedword,sherosefromherseatandalmostranoutoftheroom.Shereturnedinafewmoments,breathlessandapologetic.
“I’msosorryrushingofflikethat.ButIthoughtIsawamantakingmysuitcaseoutofthecoach.Iwentflyingafterhim,anditturnedouttobehisown.It’sonealmostexactlylikemine.Ifeltlikesuchafool.ItlookedasthoughIwereaccusinghimofstealingit.”
Shelaughedattheidea.
Poirot,however,didnotlaugh.“Whatmanwasit,mademoiselle?Describehimtome.”
“Hehadonabrownsuit.Athinweedyyoungmanwithaveryindeterminatemoustache.”
“Aha,”saidPoirot.“Ourfriendofyesterday,Hastings.Youknowthisyoungman,mademoiselle?Youhaveseenhimbefore?”
“No,never.Why?”
“Nothing.Itisrathercurious—thatisall.”
HerelapsedintosilenceandtooknofurtherpartintheconversationuntilsomethingMaryDurrantsaidcaughthisattention.
“Eh,mademoiselle,whatisthatyousay?”
“IsaidthatonmyreturnjourneyIshouldhavetobecarefulof‘malefactors’,asyoucallthem.IbelieveMr.Woodalwayspaysforthingsincash.IfIhavefivehundredpoundsinnotesonme,Ishallbeworthsomemalefactor’sattention.”
ShelaughedbutPoirotdidnotrespond.Instead,heaskedherwhathotelsheproposedtostayatinCharlockBay.
“TheAnchorHotel.Itissmallandnotexpensive,butquitegood.”
“So!”saidPoirot.“TheAnchorHotel.PreciselywhereHastingsherehasmadeuphismindtostay.Howodd!”
Hetwinkledatme.
“YouarestayinglonginCharlockBay?”askedMary.
“Onenightonly.Ihavebusinessthere.Youcouldnotguess,Iamsure,whatmyprofessionis,mademoiselle?”
IsawMaryconsiderseveralpossibilitiesandrejectthem—probablyfromafeelingofcaution.Atlast,shehazardedthesuggestionthatPoirotwasaconjurer.Hewasvastlyentertained.
“Ah!Butitisanideathat!YouthinkItaketherabbitsoutofthehat?No,mademoiselle.Me,Iamtheoppositeofaconjurer.Theconjurer,hemakesthingsdisappear.Me,Imakethingsthathavedisappeared,reappear.”Heleanedforwarddramaticallysoastogivethewordsfulleffect.“Itisasecret,mademoiselle,butIwilltellyou,Iamadetective!”
Heleanedbackinhischairpleasedwiththeeffecthehadcreated.MaryDurrantstaredathimspellbound.Butanyfurtherconversationwasbarredforthebrayingofvarioushornsoutsideannouncedthattheroadmonsterswerereadytoproceed.
AsPoirotandIwentouttogetherIcommentedonthecharmofourluncheoncompanion.Poirotagreed.
“Yes,sheischarming.But,alsorathersilly?”
“Silly?”
“Donotbeoutraged.Agirlmaybebeautifulandhaveauburnhairandyetbesilly.Itistheheightoffoolishnesstotaketwostrangersintoherconfidenceasshehasdone.”
“Well,shecouldseewewereallright.”
“Thatisimbecile,whatyousay,myfriend.Anyonewhoknowshisjob—naturallyhewillappear‘allright.’Thatlittleoneshetalkedofbeingcarefulwhenshewouldhavefivehundredpoundsinmoneywithher.Butshehasfivehundredpoundswithhernow.”
“Inminiatures.”
“Exactly.Inminiatures.Andbetweenoneandtheother,thereisnogreatdifference,monami.”
“Butnooneknewaboutthemexceptus.”
“Andthewaiterandthepeopleatthenexttable.And,doubtless,severalpeopleinEbermouth!MademoiselleDurrant,sheischarming,but,ifIwereMissElizabethPenn,Iwouldfirstofallinstructmynewassistantinthecommonsense.”Hepausedandthensaidinadifferentvoice:“Youknow,myfriend,itwouldbetheeasiestthingintheworldtoremoveasuitcasefromoneofthosechar-a-bancswhilewewereallatluncheon.”
“Oh,come,Poirot,somebodywillbesuretosee.”
“Andwhatwouldtheysee?Somebodyremovinghisluggage.Itwouldbedoneinanopenandaboveboardmanner,anditwouldbenobody’sbusinesstointerfere.”
“Doyoumean—Poirot,areyouhinting—Butthatfellowinthebrownsuit—itwashisownsuitcase?”
Poirotfrowned.“Soitseems.Allthesame,itiscurious,Hastings,thatheshouldhavenotremovedhissuitcasebefore,whenthecarfirstarrived.Hehasnotlunchedhere,younotice.”
“IfMissDurranthadn’tbeensittingoppositethewindow,shewouldn’thaveseenhim,”Isaidslowly.
“Andsinceitwashisownsuitcase,thatwouldnothavemattered,”saidPoirot.“Soletusdismissitfromourthoughts,monami.”
Nevertheless,whenwehadresumedourplacesandwerespeedingalongoncemore,hetooktheopportunityofgivingMaryDurrantafurtherlectureonthedangersofindiscretionwhichshereceivedmeeklyenoughbutwiththeairofthinkingitallratherajoke.
WearrivedatCharlockBayatfouro’clockandwerefortunateenoughtobeabletogetroomsattheAnchorHotel—acharmingold-worldinninoneofthesidestreets.
PoirothadjustunpackedafewnecessariesandwasapplyingalittlecosmetictohismoustachepreparatorytogoingouttocalluponJosephAaronswhentherecameafrenziedknockingatthedoor.Icalled“Comein,”and,tomyutteramazement,MaryDurrantappeared,herfacewhiteandlargetearsstandinginhereyes.
“Idobegyourpardon—but—butthemostawfulthinghashappened.Andyoudidsayyouwereadetective?”ThistoPoirot.
“Whathashappened,mademoiselle?”
“Iopenedmysuitcase.Theminiatureswereinacrocodiledespatchcase—locked,ofcourse.Now,look!”
Sheheldoutasmallsquarecrocodile-coveredcase.Thelidhungloose.Poirottookitfromher.Thecasehadbeenforced;greatstrengthmusthavebeenused.Themarkswereplainenough.Poirotexamineditandnodded.
“Theminiatures?”heasked,thoughwebothknewtheanswerwellenough.
“Gone.They’vebeenstolen.Oh,whatshallIdo?”
“Don’tworry,”Isaid.“MyfriendisHerculePoirot.Youmusthaveheardofhim.He’llgetthembackforyouifanyonecan.”
“MonsieurPoirot.ThegreatMonsieurPoirot.”
Poirotwasvainenoughtobepleasedattheobviousreverenceinhervoice.“Yes,mychild,”hesaid.“ItisI,myself.Andyoucanleaveyourlittleaffairinmyhands.Iwilldoallthatcanbedone.ButIfear—Imuchfear—thatitwillbetoolate.Tellme,wasthelockofyoursuitcaseforcedalso?”
Sheshookherhead.
“Letmeseeit,please.”
Wewenttogethertoherroom,andPoirotexaminedthesuitcaseclosely.Ithadobviouslybeenopenedwithakey.
“Whichissimpleenough.Thesesuitcaselocksareallmuchofthesamepattern.Ehbien,wemustringupthepoliceandwemustalsogetintouchwithMr.BakerWoodassoonaspossible.Iwillattendtothatmyself.”
Iwentwithhimandaskedwhathemeantbysayingitmightbetoolate.“Moncher,IsaidtodaythatIwastheoppositeoftheconjurer—thatImakethedisappearingthingsreappear—butsupposesomeonehasbeenbeforehandwithme.Youdonotunderstand?Youwillinaminute.”
Hedisappearedintothetelephonebox.Hecameoutfiveminuteslaterlookingverygrave.“ItisasIfeared.AladycalleduponMr.Woodwiththeminiatureshalfanhourago.SherepresentedherselfascomingfromMissElizabethPenn.Hewasdelightedwiththeminiaturesandpaidforthemforthwith.”
“Halfanhourago—beforewearrivedhere.”
Poirotsmiledratherenigmatically.“TheSpeedycarsarequitespeedy,butafastmotorfrom,say,Monkhamptonwouldgethereagoodhouraheadofthematleast.”
“Andwhatdowedonow?”
“ThegoodHastings—alwayspractical.Weinformthepolice,doallwecanforMissDurrant,and—yes,Ithinkdecidedly,wehaveaninterviewwithMr.J.BakerWood.”
Wecarriedoutthisprogramme.PoorMaryDurrantwasterriblyupset,fearingherauntwouldblameher.
“Whichsheprobablywill,”observedPoirot,aswesetoutfortheSeasideHotelwhereMr.Woodwasstaying.“Andwithperfectjustice.Theideaofleavingfivehundredpounds’worthofvaluablesinasuitcaseandgoingtolunch!Allthesame,monami,thereareoneortwocuriouspointsaboutthecase.Thatdespatchbox,forinstance,whywasitforced?”
“Togetouttheminiatures.”
“Butwasnotthatafoolishness?Sayourthiefistamperingwiththeluggageatlunchtimeunderthepretextofgettingouthisown.Surelyitismuchsimplertoopenthesuitcase,transferthedespatchcaseunopenedtohisownsuitcase,andgetaway,thantowastethetimeforcingthelock?”
“Hehadtomakesuretheminiatureswereinside.”
Poirotdidnotlookconvinced,but,aswewerejustbeingshownintoMr.Wood’ssuite,wehadnotimeformorediscussion.
ItookanimmediatedisliketoMr.BakerWood.
Hewasalargevulgarman,verymuchoverdressedandwearingadiamondsolitairering.Hewasblusteringandnoisy.
Ofcourse,he’dnotsuspectedanythingamiss.Whyshouldhe?Thewomansaidshehadtheminiaturesallright.Veryfinespecimens,too!Hadhethenumbersofthenotes?No,hehadn’t.AndwhowasMr.—er—Poirot,anyway,tocomeaskinghimallthesequestions?
“Iwillnotaskyouanythingmore,monsieur,exceptforonething.Adescriptionofthewomanwhocalleduponyou.Wassheyoungandpretty?”
“No,sir,shewasnot.Mostemphaticallynot.Atallwoman,middle-aged,greyhair,blotchycomplexionandabuddingmoustache.Asiren?Notonyourlife.”
“Poirot,”Icried,aswetookourdeparture.“Amoustache.Didyouhear?”
“Ihavetheuseofmyears,thankyou,Hastings!”
“Butwhataveryunpleasantman.”
“Hehasnotthecharmingmanner,no.”
“Well,weoughttogetthethiefallright,”Iremarked.“Wecanidentifyhim.”
“Youareofsuchana?vesimplicity,Hastings.Doyounotknowthatthereissuchathingasanalibi?”
“Youthinkhewillhaveanalibi?”
Poirotrepliedunexpectedly:“Isincerelyhopeso.”
“Thetroublewithyouis,”Isaid,“thatyoulikeathingtobedifficult.”
“Quiteright,monami.Idonotlike—howdoyousayit—thebirdwhosits!”
Poirot’sprophecywasfullyjustified.OurtravellingcompanioninthebrownsuitturnedouttobeaMr.NortonKane.HehadgonestraighttotheGeorgeHotelatMonkhamptonandhadbeenthereduringtheafternoon.TheonlyevidenceagainsthimwasthatofMissDurrantwhodeclaredthatshehadseenhimgettingouthisluggagefromthecarwhilewewereatlunch.
“Whichinitselfisnotasuspiciousact,”saidPoirotmeditatively.
Afterthatremark,helapsedintosilenceandrefusedtodiscussthematteranyfurther,sayingwhenIpressedhim,thathewasthinkingofmoustachesingeneral,andthatIshouldbewelladvisedtodothesame.
Idiscovered,however,thathehadaskedJosephAarons—withwhomhespenttheevening—togivehimeverydetailpossibleaboutMr.BakerWood.Asbothmenwerestayingatthesamehotel,therewasachanceofgleaningsomestraycrumbsofinformation.WhateverPoirotlearned,hekepttohimself,however.
MaryDurrant,aftervariousinterviewswiththepolice,hadreturnedtoEbermouthbyanearlymorningtrain.WelunchedwithJosephAarons,andafterlunch,Poirotannouncedtomethathehadsettledthetheatricalagent’sproblemsatisfactorily,andthatwecouldreturntoEbermouthassoonasweliked.“Butnotbyroad,monami;wegobyrailthistime.”
“Areyouafraidofhavingyourpocketpicked,orofmeetinganotherdamselindistress?”
“Boththoseaffairs,Hastings,mighthappentomeonthetrain.No,IaminhastetobebackinEbermouth,becauseIwanttoproceedwithourcase.”
“Ourcase?”
“But,yes,myfriend.MademoiselleDurrantappealedtometohelpher.Becausethematterisnowinthehandsofthepolice,itdoesnotfollowthatIamfreetowashmyhandsofit.Icameheretoobligeanoldfriend,butitshallneverbesaidofHerculePoirotthathedesertedastrangerinneed!”Andhedrewhimselfupgrandiloquently.
“Ithinkyouwereinterestedbeforethat,”Isaidshrewdly.“Intheofficeofcars,whenyoufirstcaughtsightofthatyoungman,thoughwhatdrewyourattentiontohimIdon’tknow.”
“Don’tyou,Hastings?Youshould.Well,well,thatmustremainmylittlesecret.”
Wehadashortconversationwiththepoliceinspectorinchargeofthecasebeforeleaving.HehadinterviewedMr.NortonKane,andtoldPoirotinconfidencethattheyoungman’smannerhadnotimpressedhimfavourably.Hehadblustered,denied,andcontradictedhimself.
“Butjusthowthetrickwasdone,Idon’tknow,”heconfessed.“Hecouldhavehandedthestufftoaconfederatewhopushedoffatonceinafastcar.Butthat’sjusttheory.We’vegottofindthecarandtheconfederateandpinthethingdown.”
Poirotnoddedthoughtfully.
“Doyouthinkthatwashowitwasdone?”Iaskedhim,aswewereseatedinthetrain.
“No,myfriend,thatwasnothowitwasdone.Itwasclevererthanthat.”
“Won’tyoutellme?”
“Notyet.Youknow—itismyweakness—Iliketokeepmylittlesecretstilltheend.”
“Istheendgoingtobesoon?”
“Verysoonnow.”
WearrivedinEbermouthalittleaftersixandPoirotdroveatoncetotheshopwhichborethename“ElizabethPenn.”Theestablishmentwasclosed,butPoirotrangthebell,andpresentlyMaryherselfopenedthedoor,andexpressedsurpriseanddelightatseeingus.
“Pleasecomeinandseemyaunt,”shesaid.
Sheledusintoabackroom.Anelderlyladycameforwardtomeetus;shehadwhitehairandlookedratherlikeaminiatureherselfwithherpink-and-whiteskinandherblueeyes.Roundherratherbentshoulderssheworeacapeofpricelessoldlace.
“IsthisthegreatMonsieurPoirot?”sheaskedinalowcharmingvoice.“Maryhasbeentellingme.Icouldhardlybelieveit.Andyouwillreallyhelpusinourtrouble.Youwilladviseus?”
Poirotlookedatherforamoment,thenbowed.
“MademoisellePenn—theeffectischarming.Butyoushouldreallygrowamoustache.”
MissPenngaveagaspanddrewback.
“Youwereabsentfrombusinessyesterday,wereyounot?”
“Iwashereinthemorning.LaterIhadabadheadacheandwentdirectlyhome.”
“Nothome,mademoiselle.Foryourheadacheyoutriedthechangeofair,didyounot?TheairofCharlockBayisverybracing,Ibelieve.”
Hetookmebythearmanddrewmetowardsthedoor.Hepausedthereandspokeoverhisshoulder.
“Youcomprehend,Iknoweverything.Thislittle—farce—itmustcease.”
Therewasamenaceinhistone.MissPenn,herfaceghastlywhite,noddedmutely.Poirotturnedtothegirl.
“Mademoiselle,”hesaidgently,“youareyoungandcharming.Butparticipatingintheselittleaffairswillleadtothatyouthandcharmbeinghiddenbehindprisonwalls—andI,HerculePoirot,tellyouthatthatwillbeapity.”
ThenhesteppedoutintothestreetandIfollowedhim,bewildered.
“Fromthefirst,monami,Iwasinterested.WhenthatyoungmanbookedhisplaceasfarasMonkhamptononly,Isawthegirl’sattentionsuddenlyrivetedonhim.Nowwhy?Hewasnotofthetypetomakeawomanlookathimforhimselfalone.Whenwestartedonthecoach,Ihadafeelingthatsomethingwouldhappen.Whosawtheyoungmantamperingwiththeluggage?Mademoiselleandmademoiselleonly,andremembershechosethatseat—aseatfacingthewindow—amostunfemininechoice.
“Andthenshecomestouswiththetaleofrobbery—thedespatchboxforcedwhichmakesnotthecommonsense,asItoldyouatthetime.
“Andwhatistheresultofitall?Mr.BakerWoodhaspaidovergoodmoneyforstolengoods.TheminiatureswillbereturnedtoMissPenn.Shewillsellthemandwillhavemadeathousandpoundsinsteadoffivehundred.Imakethediscreetinquiriesandlearnthatherbusinessisinabadstate—touchandgo.Isaytomyself—theauntandnieceareinthistogether.”
“ThenyouneversuspectedNortonKane?”
“Monami!Withthatmoustache?Acriminaliseitherclean-shavenorhehasapropermoustachethatcanberemovedatwill.ButwhatanopportunityforthecleverMissPenn—ashrinkingelderlyladywithapink-and-whitecomplexionaswesawher.Butifsheholdsherselferect,wearslargeboots,altershercomplexionwithafewunseemlyblotchesand—crowning
“ShereallywenttoCharlockyesterday?”
“Assuredly.Thetrain,asyoumayremembertellingme,lefthereatelevenandgottoCharlockBayattwoo’clock.Thenthereturntrainisevenquicker—theonewecameby.ItleavesCharlockatfour-fiveandgetshereatsix-fifteen.Naturally,theminiatureswereneverinthedespatchcaseatall.Thatwasartisticallyforcedbeforebeingpacked.MademoiselleMaryhasonlytofindacoupleofmugswhowillbesympathetictohercharmandchampionbeautyindistress.Butoneofthemugswasnomug—hewasHerculePoirot!”
Ihardlylikedtheinference.Isaidhurriedly:“Thenwhenyousaidyouwerehelpingastranger,youwerewilfullydeceivingme.That’sexactlywhatyouweredoing.”
“NeverdoIdeceiveyou,Hastings.Ionlypermityoutodeceiveyourself.IwasreferringtoMr.BakerWood—astrangertotheseshores.”Hisfacedarkened.“Ah!WhenIthinkofthatimposition,thatiniquitousovercharge,thesamefaresingletoCharlockasreturn,mybloodboilstoprotectthevisitor!Notapleasantman,Mr.BakerWood,not,asyouwouldsay,sympathetic.Butavisitor!Andwevisitors,Hastings,muststandtogether.Me,Iamallforthevisitors!”
Two
WASPS’NEST
“Wasps’Nest”wasfirstpublishedas“TheWasps’Nest”intheDailyMail,20November1928.
OutofthehousecameJohnHarrisonandstoodamomentontheterracelookingoutoverthegarden.Hewasabigmanwithalean,cadaverousface.Hisaspectwasusuallysomewhatgrimbutwhen,asnow,theruggedfeaturessoftenedintoasmile,therewassomethingveryattractiveabouthim.
JohnHarrisonlovedhisgarden,andithadneverlookedbetterthanitdidonthisAugustevening,summeryandlanguorous.Theramblerroseswerestillbeautiful;sweetpeasscentedtheair.
Awell-knowncreakingsoundmadeHarrisonturnhisheadsharply.Whowascominginthroughthegardengate?Inanotherminute,anexpressionofutterastonishmentcameoverhisface,forthedandifiedfigurecomingupthepathwasthelastheexpectedtoseeinthispartoftheworld.
“Byallthat’swonderful,”criedHarrison.“MonsieurPoirot!”
Itwas,indeed,thefamousHerculePoirotwhoserenownasadetectivehadspreadoverthewholeworld.
“Yes,”hesaid,“itis.Yousaidtomeonce:‘Ifyouareeverinthispartoftheworld,comeandseeme.’Itakeyouatyourword.Iarrive.”
“AndI’mobliged,”saidHarrisonheartily.“Sitdownandhaveadrink.”
Withahospitablehand,heindicatedatableontheverandabearingassortedbottles.
“Ithankyou,”saidPoirot,sinkingdownintoabasketchair.“Youhave,Isuppose,nosirop?No,no.Ithoughtnot.Alittleplainsodawaterthen—nowhisky.”Andheaddedinafeelingvoiceastheotherplacedtheglassbesidehim:“Alas,mymoustachesarelimp.Itisthisheat!”
“Andwhatbringsyouintothisquietspot?”askedHarrisonashedroppedintoanotherchair.“Pleasure?”
“No,monami,business.”
“Business?Inthisout-of-the-wayplace?”
Poirotnoddedgravely.“Butyes,myfriend,allcrimesarenotcommittedincrowds,youknow?”
Theotherlaughed.“Isupposethatwasratheranidioticremarkofmine.Butwhatparticularcrimeareyouinvestigatingdownhere,oristhatathingImustn’task?”
“Youmayask,”saidthedetective.“Indeed,Iwouldpreferthatyouasked.”
Harrisonlookedathimcuriously.Hesensedsomethingalittleunusualintheother’smanner.“Youareinvestigatingacrime,yousay?”headvancedratherhesitatingly.“Aseriouscrime?”
“Acrimeofthemostseriousthereis.”
“Youmean….”
“Murder.”
SogravelydidHerculePoirotsaythatwordthatHarrisonwasquitetakenaback.ThedetectivewaslookingstraightathimandagaintherewassomethingsounusualinhisglancethatHarrisonhardlyknewhowtoproceed.Atlast,hesaid:“ButIhaveheardofnomurder.”
“No,”saidPoirot,“youwouldnothaveheardofit.”
“Whohasbeenmurdered?”
“Asyet,”saidHerculePoirot,“nobody.”
“What?”
“ThatiswhyIsaidyouwouldnothaveheardofit.Iaminvestigatingacrimethathasnotyettakenplace.”
“Butlookhere,thatisnonsense.”
“Notatall.Ifonecaninvestigateamurderbeforeithashappened,surelythatisverymuchbetterthanafterwards.Onemighteven—alittleidea—preventit.”
Harrisonstaredathim.“Youarenotserious,MonsieurPoirot.”
“Butyes,Iamserious.”
“Youreallybelievethatamurderisgoingtobecommitted?Oh,it’sabsurd!”
HerculePoirotfinishedthefirstpartofthesentencewithouttakinganynoticeoftheexclamation.
“Unlesswecanmanagetopreventit.Yes,monami,thatiswhatImean.”
“We?”
“Isaidwe.Ishallneedyourcooperation.”
“Isthatwhyyoucamedownhere?”
AgainPoirotlookedathim,andagainanindefinablesomethingmadeHarrisonuneasy.
“Icamehere,MonsieurHarrison,becauseI—well—likeyou.”
Andthenheaddedinanentirelydifferentvoice:“Isee,MonsieurHarrison,thatyouhaveawasps’nestthere.Youshoulddestroyit.”
ThechangeofsubjectmadeHarrisonfrowninapuzzledway.HefollowedPoirot’sglanceandsaidinabewilderedvoice:“Asamatteroffact,I’mgoingto.Orrather,youngLangtonis.YourememberClaudeLangton?HewasatthatsamedinnerwhereImetyou.He’scomingoverthiseveningtotakethenest.Ratherfancieshimselfatthejob.”
“Ah,”saidPoirot.“Andhowishegoingtodoit?”
“Petrolandthegardensyringe.He’sbringinghisownsyringeover;it’samoreconvenientsizethanmine.”
“Thereisanotherway,istherenot?”askedPoirot.“Withcyanideofpotassium?”
Harrisonlookedalittlesurprised.“Yes,butthat’sratherdangerousstuff.Alwaysariskhavingitabouttheplace.”
Poirotnoddedgravely.“Yes,itisdeadlypoison.”Hewaitedaminuteandthenrepeatedinagravevoice,“Deadlypoison.”
“Usefulifyouwanttodoawaywithyourmother-in-law,eh?”saidHarrisonwithalaugh.
ButHerculePoirotremainedgrave.“Andyouarequitesure,MonsieurHarrison,thatitiswithpetrolthatMonsieurLangtonisgoingtodestroyyourwasps’nest?”
“Quitesure.Why?”
“Iwondered.Iwasatthechemist’sinBarchesterthisafternoon.ForoneofmypurchasesIhadtosignthepoisonbook.Isawthelastentry.ItwasforcyanideofpotassiumanditwassignedbyClaudeLangton.”
Harrisonstared.“That’sodd,”hesaid.“Langtontoldmetheotherdaythathe’dneverdreamofusingthestuff;infact,hesaiditoughtn’ttobesoldforthepurpose.”
Poirotlookedoutoverthegarden.Hisvoicewasveryquietasheaskedaquestion.“DoyoulikeLangton?”
Theotherstarted.Thequestionsomehowseemedtofindhimquiteunprepared.“I—I—well,Imean—ofcourse,Ilikehim.Whyshouldn’tI?”
“Ionlywondered,”saidPoirotplacidly,“whetheryoudid.”
Andastheotherdidnotanswer,hewenton.“Ialsowonderedifhelikedyou?”
“Whatareyougettingat,MonsieurPoirot?There’ssomethinginyourmindIcan’tfathom.”
“Iamgoingtobeveryfrank.Youareengagedtobemarried,MonsieurHarrison.IknowMissMollyDeane.Sheisaverycharming,averybeautifulgirl.Beforeshewasengagedtoyou,shewasengagedtoClaudeLangton.Shethrewhimoverforyou.”
Harrisonnodded.
“Idonotaskwhatherreasonswere:shemayhavebeenjustified.ButItellyouthis,itisnottoomuchtosupposethatLangtonhasnotforgottenorforgiven.”
“You’rewrong,MonsieurPoirot.Iswearyou’rewrong.Langton’sbeenasportsman;he’stakenthingslikeaman.He’sbeenamazinglydecenttome—goneoutofhiswaytobefriendly.”
“Andthatdoesnotstrikeyouasunusual?Youusetheword‘amazingly,’butyoudonotseemtobeamazed.”
“Whatdoyoumean,M.Poirot?”
“Imean,”saidPoirot,andhisvoicehadanewnoteinit,“thatamanmayconcealhishatetillthepropertimecomes.”
“Hate?”Harrisonshookhisheadandlaughed.
“TheEnglishareverystupid,”saidPoirot.“Theythinkthattheycandeceiveanyonebutthatnoonecandeceivethem.Thesportsman—thegoodfellow—neverwilltheybelieveevilofhim.Andbecausetheyarebrave,butstupid,sometimestheydiewhentheyneednotdie.”
“Youarewarningme,”saidHarrisoninalowvoice.“Iseeitnow—whathaspuzzledmeallalong.YouarewarningmeagainstClaudeLangton.Youcameheretodaytowarnme….”
Poirotnodded.Harrisonsprangupsuddenly.“Butyouaremad,MonsieurPoirot.ThisisEngland.Thingsdon’thappenlikethathere.Disappointedsuitorsdon’tgoaboutstabbingpeopleinthebackandpoisoningthem.Andyou’rewrongaboutLangton.Thatchapwouldn’thurtafly.”
“Thelivesoffliesarenotmyconcern,”saidPoirotplacidly.“AndalthoughyousayMonsieurLangtonwouldnottakethelifeofone,yetyouforgetthatheisevennowpreparingtotakethelivesofseveralthousandwasps.”
Harrisondidnotatoncereply.Thelittledetectiveinhisturnsprangtohisfeet.Headvancedtohisfriendandlaidahandonhisshoulder.Soagitatedwashethathealmostshookthebigman,and,ashedidso,hehissedintohisear:“Rouseyourself,myfriend,rouseyourself.Andlook—lookwhereIampointing.Thereonthebank,closebythattreeroot.Seeyou,thewaspsreturninghome,placidattheendoftheday?Inalittlehour,therewillbedestruction,andtheyknowitnot.Thereisnoonetotellthem.Theyhavenot,itseems,aHerculePoirot.Itellyou,MonsieurHarrison,Iamdownhereonbusiness.Murderismybusiness.Anditismybusinessbeforeithashappenedaswellasafterwards.AtwhattimedoesMonsieurLangtoncometotakethiswasps’nest?”
“Langtonwouldnever….”
“Atwhattime?”
“Atnineo’clock.ButItellyou,you’reallwrong.Langtonwouldnever….”
“TheseEnglish!”criedPoirotinapassion.Hecaughtuphishatandstickandmoveddownthepath,pausingtospeakoverhisshoulder.“Idonotstaytoarguewithyou.Ishouldonlyenragemyself.Butyouunderstand,Ireturnatnineo’clock?”
Harrisonopenedhismouthtospeak,butPoirotdidnotgivehimthechance.“Iknowwhatyouwouldsay:‘Langtonwouldnever,’etcetera.Ah,Langtonwouldnever!ButallthesameIreturnatnineo’clock.But,yes,itwillamuseme—putitlikethat—itwillamusemetoseethetakingofawasps’nest.AnotherofyourEnglishsports!”
Hewaitedfornoreplybutpassedrapidlydownthepathandoutthroughthedoorthatcreaked.Onceoutsideontheroad,hispaceslackened.Hisvivacitydieddown,hisfacebecamegraveandtroubled.Oncehedrewhiswatchfromhispocketandconsultedit.Thehandspointedtotenminutespasteight.“Overthreequartersofanhour,”hemurmured.
Hisfootstepsslackened;healmostseemedonthepointofreturning.Somevagueforebodingseemedtoassailhim.Heshookitoffresolutely,however,andcontinuedtowalkinthedirectionofthevillage.Buthisfacewasstilltroubled,andonceortwiceheshookhisheadlikeamanonlypartlysatisfied.
Itwasstillsomeminutesoffninewhenheoncemoreapproachedthegardendoor.Itwasaclear,stillevening;hardlyabreezestirredtheleaves.Therewas,perhaps,somethingalittlesinisterinthestillness,likethelullbeforeastorm.
Poirot’sfootstepsquickenedeversoslightly.Hewassuddenlyalarmed—anduncertain.Hefearedheknewnotwhat.
AndatthatmomentthegardendooropenedandClaudeLangtonsteppedquicklyoutintotheroad.HestartedwhenhesawPoirot.
“Oh—er—goodevening.”
“Goodevening,MonsieurLangton.Youareearly.”
Langtonstaredathim.“Idon’tknowwhatyoumean.”
“Youhavetakenthewasps’nest?”
“Asamatteroffact,Ididn’t.”
“Oh,”saidPoirotsoftly.“Soyoudidnottakethewasps’nest.Whatdidyoudothen?”
“Oh,justsatandyarnedabitwitholdHarrison.Ireallymusthurryalongnow,MonsieurPoirot.I’dnoideayouwereremaininginthispartoftheworld.”
“Ihadbusinesshere,yousee.”
“Oh!Well,you’llfindHarrisonontheterrace.SorryIcan’tstop.”
Hehurriedaway.Poirotlookedafterhim.Anervousyoungfellow,good-lookingwithaweakmouth!
“SoIshallfindHarrisonontheterrace,”murmuredPoirot.“Iwonder.”Hewentinthroughthegardendoorandupthepath.Harrisonwassittinginachairbythetable.HesatmotionlessanddidnoteventurnhisheadasPoirotcameuptohim.
“Ah!Monami,”saidPoirot.“Youareallright,eh?”
TherewasalongpauseandthenHarrisonsaidinaqueer,dazedvoice,“Whatdidyousay?”
“Isaid—areyouallright?”
“Allright?Yes,I’mallright.Whynot?”
“Youfeelnoilleffects?Thatisgood.”
“Illeffects?Fromwhat?”
“Washingsoda.”
Harrisonrousedhimselfsuddenly.“Washingsoda?Whatdoyoumean?”
Poirotmadeanapologeticgesture.“Iinfinitelyregretthenecessity,butIputsomeinyourpocket.”
“Youputsomeinmypocket?Whatonearthfor?”
Harrisonstaredathim.Poirotspokequietlyandimpersonallylikealecturercomingdowntothelevelofasmallchild.
“Yousee,oneoftheadvantages,ordisadvantages,ofbeingadetectiveisthatitbringsyouintocontactwiththecriminalclasses.Andthecriminalclasses,theycanteachyousomeveryinterestingandcuriousthings.Therewasapickpocketonce—Iinterestedmyselfinhimbecauseforonceinawayhehadnotdonewhattheysayhehasdone—andsoIgethimoff.Andbecauseheisgratefulhepaysmeintheonlywayhecanthinkof—whichistoshowmethetricksofhistrade.
“AndsoithappensthatIcanpickaman’spocketifIchoosewithouthiseversuspectingthefact.Ilayonehandonhisshoulder,Iexcitemyself,andhefeelsnothing.ButallthesameIhavemanagedtotransferwhatisinhispockettomypocketandleavewashingsodainitsplace.
“Yousee,”continuedPoirotdreamily,“ifamanwantstogetatsomepoisonquicklytoputinaglass,unobserved,hepositivelymustkeepitinhisright-handcoatpocket;thereisnowhereelse.Iknewitwouldbethere.”
Hedroppedhishandintohispocketandbroughtoutafewwhite,lumpycrystals.“Exceedinglydangerous,”hemurmured,“tocarryitlikethat—loose.”
Calmlyandwithouthurryinghimself,hetookfromanotherpocketawide-mouthedbottle.Heslippedinthecrystals,steppedtothetableandfilledupthebottlewithplainwater.Thencarefullycorkingit,heshookituntilallthecrystalsweredissolved.Harrisonwatchedhimasthoughfascinated.
Satisfiedwithhissolution,Poirotsteppedacrosstothenest.Heuncorkedthebottle,turnedhisheadaside,andpouredthesolutionintothewasps’nest,thenstoodbackapaceortwowatching.
Somewaspsthatwerereturningalighted,quiveredalittleandthenlaystill.Otherwaspscrawledoutoftheholeonlytodie.Poirotwatchedforaminuteortwoandthennoddedhisheadandcamebacktotheveranda.
“Aquickdeath,”hesaid.“Averyquickdeath.”
Harrisonfoundhisvoice.“Howmuchdoyouknow?”
Poirotlookedstraightahead.“AsItoldyou,IsawClaudeLangton’snameinthebook.WhatIdidnottellyouwasthatalmostimmediatelyafterwards,Ihappenedtomeethim.Hetoldmehehadbeenbuyingcyanideofpotassiumatyourrequest—totakeawasps’nest.Thatstruckmeasalittleodd,myfriend,becauseIrememberthatatthatdinnerofwhichyouspoke,youheldforthonthesuperiormeritsofpetrolanddenouncedthebuyingofcyanideasdangerousandunnecessary.”
“Goon.”
“Iknewsomethingelse.IhadseenClaudeLangtonandMollyDeanetogetherwhentheythoughtnoonesawthem.Idonotknowwhatlovers’quarrelitwasthatoriginallypartedthemanddroveherintoyourarms,butIrealizedthatmisunderstandingswereoverandthatMissDeanewasdriftingbacktoherlove.”
“Goon.”
“Iknewsomethingmore,myfriend.IwasinHarleyStreettheotherday,andIsawyoucomeoutofacertaindoctor’shouse.Iknowthedoctorandforwhatdiseaseoneconsultshim,andIreadtheexpressiononyourface.Ihaveseenitonlyonceortwiceinmylifetime,butitisnoteasilymistaken.Itwasthefaceofamanundersentenceofdeath.Iamright,amInot?”
“Quiteright.Hegavemetwomonths.”
“Youdidnotseeme,myfriend,foryouhadotherthingstothinkabout.Isawsomethingelseonyourface—thethingthatItoldyouthisafternoonmentrytoconceal.Isawhatethere,myfriend.Youdidnottroubletoconcealit,becauseyouthoughttherewerenonetoobserve.”
“Goon,”saidHarrison.
“Thereisnotmuchmoretosay.Icamedownhere,sawLangton’snamebyaccidentinthepoisonbookasItellyou,methim,andcameheretoyou.Ilaidtrapsforyou.YoudeniedhavingaskedLangtontogetcyanide,orratheryouexpressedsurpriseathishavingdoneso.Youweretakenabackatfirstatmyappearance,butpresentlyyousawhowwellitwouldfitinandyouencouragedmysuspicions.IknewfromLangtonhimselfthathewascomingathalfpasteight.Youtoldmenineo’clock,thinkingIshouldcomeandfindeverythingover.AndsoIkneweverything.”
“Whydidyoucome?”criedHarrison.“Ifonlyyouhadn’tcome!”
Poirotdrewhimselfup.“Itoldyou,”hesaid,“murderismybusiness.”
“Murder?Suicide,youmean.”
“No.”Poirot’svoicerangoutsharplyandclearly.“Imeanmurder.Yourdeathwastobequickandeasy,butthedeathyouplannedforLangtonwastheworstdeathanymancandie.Heboughtthepoison;hecomestoseeyou,andheisalonewithyou.Youdiesuddenly,andthecyanideisfoundinyourglass,andClaudeLangtonhangs.Thatwasyourplan.”
AgainHarrisonmoaned.
“Whydidyoucome?Whydidyoucome?”
“Ihavetoldyou,butthereisanotherreason.Ilikedyou.Listen,monami,youareadyingman;youhavelostthegirlyouloved,butthereisonethingthatyouarenot;youarenotamurderer.Tellmenow:areyougladorsorrythatIcame?”
Therewasamoment’spauseandHarrisondrewhimselfup.Therewasanewdignityinhisface—thelookofamanwhohasconqueredhisownbaserself.Hestretchedouthishandacrossthetable.
“Thankgoodnessyoucame,”hecried.“Oh,thankgoodnessyoucame.”
Three
THETHEFTOFTHEROYALRUBY
“TheTheftoftheRoyalRuby”wasfirstpublishedas“TheAdventureoftheChristmasPudding”inTheSketch,12December1923.Thisisanexpandedversionofthestory.
Iregretexceedingly—”saidM.HerculePoirot.
Hewasinterrupted.Notrudelyinterrupted.Theinterruptionwassuave,dexterous,persuasiveratherthancontradictory.
“Pleasedon’trefuseoffhand,M.Poirot.TherearegraveissuesofState.Yourcooperationwillbeappreciatedinthehighestquarters.”
“Youaretookind,”HerculePoirotwavedahand,“butIreallycannotundertaketodoasyouask.Atthisseasonoftheyear—”
AgainMr.Jesmondinterrupted.“Christmastime,”hesaid,persuasively.“Anold-fashionedChristmasintheEnglishcountryside.”
HerculePoirotshivered.ThethoughtoftheEnglishcountrysideatthisseasonoftheyeardidnotattracthim.
“Agoodold-fashionedChristmas!”Mr.Jesmondstressedit.
“Me—IamnotanEnglishman,”saidHerculePoirot.“Inmycountry,Christmas,itisforthechildren.TheNewYear,thatiswhatwecelebrate.”
“Ah,”saidMr.Jesmond,“butChristmasinEnglandisagreatinstitutionandIassureyouatKingsLaceyyouwouldseeitatitsbest.It’sawonderfuloldhouse,youknow.Why,onewingofitdatesfromthefourteenthcentury.”
AgainPoirotshivered.Thethoughtofafourteenth-centuryEnglishmanorhousefilledhimwithapprehension.HehadsufferedtooofteninthehistoriccountryhousesofEngland.Helookedroundappreciativelyathiscomfortablemodernflatwithitsradiatorsandthelatestpatentdevicesforexcludinganykindofdraught.
“Inthewinter,”hesaidfirmly,“IdonotleaveLondon.”
“Idon’tthinkyouquiteappreciate,M.Poirot,whataveryseriousmatterthisis.”Mr.JesmondglancedathiscompanionandthenbackatPoirot.
Poirot’ssecondvisitorhaduptonowsaidnothingbutapoliteandformal“Howdoyoudo.”Hesatnow,gazingdownathiswell-polishedshoes,withanairoftheutmostdejectiononhiscoffee-colouredface.Hewasayoungman,notmorethantwenty-three,andhewasclearlyinastateofcompletemisery.
“Yes,yes,”saidHerculePoirot.“Ofcoursethematterisserious.Idoappreciatethat.HisHighnesshasmyheartfeltsympathy.”
“Thepositionisoneoftheutmostdelicacy,”saidMr.Jesmond.
Poirottransferredhisgazefromtheyoungmantohisoldercompanion.IfonewantedtosumupMr.Jesmondinaword,thewordwouldhavebeendiscretion.EverythingaboutMr.Jesmondwasdiscreet.Hiswell-cutbutinconspicuousclothes,hispleasant,well-bredvoicewhichrarelysoaredoutofanagreeablemonotone,hislight-brownhairjustthinningalittleatthetemples,hispaleseriousface.ItseemedtoHerculePoirotthathehadknownnotoneMr.JesmondbutadozenMr.Jesmondsinhistime,allusingsoonerorlaterthesamephrase—“apositionoftheutmostdelicacy.”
“Thepolice,”saidHerculePoirot,“canbeverydiscreet,youknow.”
Mr.Jesmondshookhisheadfirmly.
“Notthepolice,”hesaid.“Torecoverthe—er—whatwewanttorecoverwillalmostinevitablyinvoketakingproceedingsinthelawcourtsandweknowsolittle.Wesuspect,butwedonotknow.”
“Youhavemysympathy,”saidHerculePoirotagain.
Ifheimaginedthathissympathywasgoingtomeananythingtohistwovisitors,hewaswrong.Theydidnotwantsympathy,theywantedpracticalhelp.Mr.JesmondbeganoncemoretotalkaboutthedelightsofanEnglishChristmas.
“It’sdyingout,youknow,”hesaid,“therealold-fashionedtypeofChristmas.Peoplespenditathotelsnowadays.ButanEnglishChristmaswithallthefamilygatheredround,thechildrenandtheirstockings,theChristmastree,theturkeyandplumpudding,thecrackers.Thesnowmanoutsidethewindow—”
Intheinterestsofexactitude,HerculePoirotintervened.
“Tomakeasnowmanonehastohavethesnow,”heremarkedseverely.“Andonecannothavesnowtoorder,evenforanEnglishChristmas.”
“Iwastalkingtoafriendofmineinthemeteorologicalofficeonlytoday,”saidMr.Jesmond,“andhetellsmethatitishighlyprobabletherewillbesnowthisChristmas.”
Itwasthewrongthingtohavesaid.HerculePoirotshudderedmoreforcefullythanever.
“Snowinthecountry!”hesaid.“Thatwouldbestillmoreabominable.Alarge,cold,stonemanorhouse.”
“Notatall,”saidMr.Jesmond.“Thingshavechangedverymuchinthelasttenyearsorso.Oil-firedcentralheating.”
“Theyhaveoil-firedcentralheatingatKingsLacey?”askedPoirot.Forthefirsttimeheseemedtowaver.
Mr.Jesmondseizedhisopportunity.“Yes,indeed,”hesaid,“andasplendidhotwatersystem.Radiatorsineverybedroom.Iassureyou,mydearM.Poirot,KingsLaceyiscomfortitselfinthewintertime.Youmightevenfindthehousetoowarm.”
“Thatismostunlikely,”saidHerculePoirot.
WithpractiseddexterityMr.Jesmondshiftedhisgroundalittle.
“Youcanappreciatetheterribledilemmawearein,”hesaid,inaconfidentialmanner.
HerculePoirotnodded.Theproblemwas,indeed,notahappyone.Ayoungpotentate-to-be,theonlysonoftherulerofarichandimportantnativeStatehadarrivedinLondonafewweeksago.Hiscountryhadbeenpassingthroughaperiodofrestlessnessanddiscontent.ThoughloyaltothefatherwhosewayoflifehadremainedpersistentlyEastern,popularopinionwassomewhatdubiousoftheyoungergeneration.HisfollieshadbeenWesternonesandassuchlookeduponwithdisapproval.
Recently,however,hisbetrothalhadbeenannounced.Hewastomarryacousinofthesameblood,ayoungwomanwho,thougheducatedatCambridge,wascarefultodisplaynoWesterninfluenceinherowncountry.TheweddingdaywasannouncedandtheyoungprincehadmadeajourneytoEngland,bringingwithhimsomeofthefamousjewelsofhishousetoberesetinappropriatemodernsettingsbyCartier.Thesehadincludedaveryfamousrubywhichhadbeenremovedfromitscumbersomeold-fashionednecklaceandhadbeengivenanewlookbythefamousjewellers.Sofarsogood,butafterthiscamethesnag.Itwasnottobesupposedthatayoungmanpossessedofmuchwealthandconvivialtastes,shouldnotcommitafewfolliesofthepleasantertype.Astothattherewouldhavebeennocensure.Youngprincesweresupposedtoamusethemselvesinthisfashion.FortheprincetotakethegirlfriendofthemomentforawalkdownBondStreetandbestowuponheranemeraldbraceletoradiamondclipasarewardforthepleasureshehadaffordedhimwouldhavebeenregardedasquitenaturalandsuitable,correspondinginfacttotheCadillaccarswhichhisfatherinvariablypresentedtohisfavouritedancinggirlofthemoment.
Buttheprincehadbeenfarmoreindiscreetthanthat.Flatteredbythelady’sinterest,hehaddisplayedtoherthefamousrubyinitsnewsetting,andhadfinallybeensounwiseastoaccedetoherrequesttobeallowedtowearit—justforoneevening!
Thesequelwasshortandsad.Theladyhadretiredfromtheirsuppertabletopowderhernose.Timepassed.Shedidnotreturn.Shehadlefttheestablishmentbyanotherdoorandsincethenhaddisappearedintospace.Theimportantanddistressingthingwasthattherubyinitsnewsettinghaddisappearedwithher.
Thesewerethefactsthatcouldnotpossiblybemadepublicwithoutthemostdireconsequences.Therubywassomethingmorethanaruby,itwasahistoricalpossessionofgreatsignificance,andthecircumstancesofitsdisappearanceweresuchthatanyunduepublicityaboutthemmightresultinthemostseriouspoliticalconsequences.
Mr.Jesmondwasnotthemantoputthesefactsintosimplelanguage.Hewrappedthemup,asitwere,inagreatdealofverbiage.WhoexactlyMr.Jesmondwas,HerculePoirotdidnotknow.HehadmetotherMr.Jesmondsinthecourseofhiscareer.WhetherhewasconnectedwiththeHomeOffice,theForeignSecretaryorsomeotherdiscreetbranchofpublicservicewasnotspecified.HewasactingintheinterestsoftheCommonwealth.Therubymustberecovered.
M.Poirot,soMr.Jesmonddelicatelyinsisted,wasthemantorecoverit.
“Perhaps—yes,”HerculePoirotadmitted,“butyoucantellmesolittle.Suggestion—suspicion—allthatisnotverymuchtogoupon.”
“Comenow,MonsieurPoirot,surelyitisnotbeyondyourpowers.Ah,comenow.”
“Idonotalwayssucceed.”
Butthiswasmockmodesty.ItwasclearenoughfromPoirot’stonethatforhimtoundertakeamissionwasalmostsynonymouswithsucceedinginit.
“HisHighnessisveryyoung,”Mr.Jesmondsaid.“Itwillbesadifhiswholelifeistobeblightedforamereyouthfulindiscretion.”
Poirotlookedkindlyatthedowncastyoungman.“Itisthetimeforfollies,whenoneisyoung,”hesaidencouragingly,“andfortheordinaryyoungmanitdoesnotmattersomuch.Thegoodpapa,hepaysup:thefamilylawyer,hehelpstodisentangletheinconvenience;theyoungman,helearnsbyexperienceandallendsforthebest.Inapositionsuchasyours,itishardindeed.Yourapproachingmarriage—”
“Thatisit.Thatisitexactly.”Forthefirsttimewordspouredfromtheyoungman.“Youseesheisvery,veryserious.Shetakeslifeveryseriously.ShehasacquiredatCambridgemanyveryseriousideas.Thereistobeeducationinmycountry.Therearetobeschools.Therearetobemanythings.Allinthenameofprogress,youunderstand,ofdemocracy.Itwillnotbe,shesays,likeitwasinmyfather’stime.NaturallysheknowsthatIwillhavediversionsinLondon,butnotthescandal.No!Itisthescandalthatmatters.Youseeitisvery,veryfamous,thisruby.Thereisalongtrailbehindit,ahistory.Muchbloodshed—manydeaths!”
“Deaths,”saidHerculePoirotthoughtfully.HelookedatMr.Jesmond.“Onehopes,”hesaid,“itwillnotcometothat?”
Mr.Jesmondmadeapeculiarnoiseratherlikeahenwhohasdecidedtolayaneggandthenthoughtbetterofit.
“No,noindeed,”hesaid,soundingratherprim.“Thereisnoquestion,Iamsure,ofanythingofthatkind.”
“Youcannotbesure,”saidHerculePoirot.“Whoeverhastherubynow,theremaybeotherswhowanttogainpossessionofit,andwhowillnotstickatatrifle,myfriend.”
“Ireallydon’tthink,”saidMr.Jesmond,soundingmoreprimthanever,“thatweneedenterintospeculationofthatkind.Quiteunprofitable.”
“Me,”saidHerculePoirot,suddenlybecomingveryforeign,“me,Iexplorealltheavenues,likethepoliticians.”
Mr.Jesmondlookedathimdoubtfully.Pullinghimselftogether,hesaid,“Well,Icantakeitthatissettled,M.Poirot?YouwillgotoKingsLacey?”
“AndhowdoIexplainmyselfthere?”askedHerculePoirot.
Mr.Jesmondsmiledwithconfidence.
“That,Ithink,canbearrangedveryeasily,”hesaid.“Icanassureyouthatitwillallseemquitenatural.YouwillfindtheLaceysmostcharming.Delightfulpeople.”
“Andyoudonotdeceivemeabouttheoil-firedcentralheating?”
“No,no,indeed.”Mr.Jesmondsoundedquitepained.“Iassureyouyouwillfindeverycomfort.”
“Toutconfortmoderne,”murmuredPoirottohimself,reminiscently.“Ehbien,”hesaid,“Iaccept.”
ThetemperatureinthelongdrawingroomatKingsLaceywasacomfortablesixty-eightasHerculePoirotsattalkingtoMrs.Laceybyoneofthebigmullionedwindows.Mrs.Laceywasengagedinneedlework.Shewasnotdoingpetitpointorembroideredflowersuponsilk.Instead,sheappearedtobeengagedintheprosaictaskofhemmingdishcloths.AsshesewedshetalkedinasoftreflectivevoicethatPoirotfoundverycharming
“IhopeyouwillenjoyourChristmaspartyhere,M.Poirot.It’sonlythefamily,youknow.MygranddaughterandagrandsonandafriendofhisandBridgetwho’smygreatniece,andDianawho’sacousinandDavidWelwynwhoisaveryoldfriend.Justafamilyparty.ButEdwinaMorecombesaidthatthat’swhatyoureallywantedtosee.Anold-fashionedChristmas.Nothingcouldbemoreold-fashionedthanweare!Myhusband,youknow,absolutelylivesinthepast.Helikeseverythingtobejustasitwaswhenhewasaboyoftwelveyearsold,andusedtocomehereforhisholidays.”Shesmiledtoherself.“Allthesameoldthings,theChristmastreeandthestockingshungupandtheoystersoupandtheturkey—twoturkeys,oneboiledandoneroast—andtheplumpuddingwiththeringandthebachelor’sbuttonandalltherestofitinit.Wecan’thavesixpencesnowadaysbecausethey’renotpuresilveranymore.Butalltheolddesserts,theElvasplumsandCarlsbadplumsandalmondsandraisins,andcrystallizedfruitandginger.Dearme,IsoundlikeacataloguefromFortnumandMason!”
“Youarousemygastronomicjuices,Madame.”
“Iexpectwe’llallhavefrightfulindigestionbytomorrowevening,”saidMrs.Lacey.“Oneisn’tusedtoeatingsomuchnowadays,isone?”
Shewasinterruptedbysomeloudshoutsandwhoopsoflaughteroutsidethewindow.Sheglancedout.
“Idon’tknowwhatthey’redoingoutthere.Playingsomegameorother,Isuppose.I’vealwaysbeensoafraid,youknow,thattheseyoungpeoplewouldbeboredbyourChristmashere.Butnotatall,it’sjusttheopposite.Nowmyownsonanddaughterandtheirfriends,theyusedtoberathersophisticatedaboutChristmas.Sayitwasallnonsenseandtoomuchfussanditwouldbefarbettertogoouttoahotelsomewhereanddance.Buttheyoungergenerationseemtofindallthisterriblyattractive.Besides,”addedMrs.Laceypractically,“schoolboysandschoolgirlsarealwayshungry,aren’tthey?Ithinktheymuststarvethemattheseschools.Afterall,onedoesknowchildrenofthatageeacheataboutasmuchasthreestrongmen.”
Poirotlaughedandsaid,“Itismostkindofyouandyourhusband,Madame,toincludemeinthiswayinyourfamilyparty.”
“Oh,we’rebothdelighted,I’msure,”saidMrs.Lacey.“AndifyoufindHoracealittlegruff,”shecontinued,“paynoattention.It’sjusthismanner,youknow.”
Whatherhusband,ColonelLacey,hadactuallysaidwas:“Can’tthinkwhyyouwantoneofthesedamnedforeignershereclutteringupChristmas?Whycan’twehavehimsomeothertime?Can’tstickforeigners!Allright,allright,soEdwinaMorecombewishedhimonus.What’sitgottodowithher,Ishouldliketoknow?Whydoesn’tshehavehimforChristmas?”
“Becauseyouknowverywell,”Mrs.Laceyhadsaid,“thatEdwinaalwaysgoestoClaridge’s.”
Herhusbandhadlookedatherpiercinglyandsaid,“Notuptosomething,areyou,Em?”
“Uptosomething?”saidEm,openingveryblueeyes.“Ofcoursenot.WhyshouldIbe?”
OldColonelLaceylaughed,adeep,rumblinglaugh.“Iwouldn’tputitpastyou,Em,”hesaid.“Whenyoulookyourmostinnocentiswhenyouareuptosomething.”
Revolvingthesethingsinhermind,Mrs.Laceywenton:“Edwinasaidshethoughtperhapsyoumighthelpus…I’msureIdon’tknowquitehow,butshesaidthatfriendsofyourshadoncefoundyouveryhelpfulin—inacasesomethinglikeours.I—well,perhapsyoudon’tknowwhatI’mtalkingabout?”
Poirotlookedatherencouragingly.Mrs.Laceywascloseonseventy,asuprightasaramrod,withsnow-whitehair,pinkcheeks,blueeyes,aridiculousnoseandadeterminedchin.
“IfthereisanythingIcandoIshallonlybetoohappytodoit,”saidPoirot.“Itis,Iunderstand,aratherunfortunatematterofayounggirl’sinfatuation.”
Mrs.Laceynodded.“Yes.ItseemsextraordinarythatIshould—well,wanttotalktoyouaboutit.Afterall,youareaperfectstranger….”
“Andaforeigner,”saidPoirot,inanunderstandingmanner.
“Yes,”saidMrs.Lacey,“butperhapsthatmakesiteasier,inaway.Anyhow,Edwinaseemedtothinkthatyoumightperhapsknowsomething—howshallIputit—somethingusefulaboutthisyoungDesmondLee-Wortley.”
PoirotpausedamomenttoadmiretheingenuityofMr.JesmondandtheeasewithwhichhehadmadeuseofLadyMorecombetofurtherhisownpurposes.
“Hehasnot,Iunderstand,averygoodreputation,thisyoungman?”hebegandelicately.
“No,indeed,hehasn’t!Averybadreputation!Butthat’snohelpsofarasSarahisconcerned.It’sneveranygood,isit,tellingyounggirlsthatmenhaveabadreputation?It—itjustspursthemon!”
“Youaresoveryright,”saidPoirot.
“Inmyyoungday,”wentonMrs.Lacey.(“Ohdear,that’saverylongtimeago!)Weusedtobewarned,youknow,againstcertainyoungmen,andofcourseitdidheightenone’sinterestinthem,andifonecouldpossiblymanagetodancewiththem,ortobealonewiththeminadarkconservatory—”shelaughed.“That’swhyIwouldn’tletHoracedoanyofthethingshewantedtodo.”
“Tellme,”saidPoirot,“exactlywhatisitthattroublesyou?”
“Oursonwaskilledinthewar,”saidMrs.Lacey.“Mydaughter-in-lawdiedwhenSarahwasbornsothatshehasalwaysbeenwithus,andwe’vebroughtherup.Perhapswe’vebroughtherupunwisely—Idon’tknow.Butwethoughtweoughtalwaystoleaveherasfreeaspossible.”
“Thatisdesirable,Ithink,”saidPoirot.“Onecannotgoagainstthespiritofthetimes.”
“No,”saidMrs.Lacey,“that’sjustwhatIfeltaboutit.And,ofcourse,girlsnowadaysdothesesortofthings.”
Poirotlookedatherinquiringly.
“Ithinkthewayoneexpressesit,”saidMrs.Lacey.“isthatSarahhasgotinwithwhattheycallthecoffee-barset.Shewon’tgotodancesorcomeoutproperlyorbeadeboranythingofthatkind.InsteadshehastworatherunpleasantroomsinChelseadownbytheriverandwearsthesefunnyclothesthattheyliketowear,andblackstockingsorbrightgreenones.Verythickstockings.(Soprickly,Ialwaysthink!)Andshegoesaboutwithoutwashingorcombingherhair.”
“?a,c’esttoutàfaitnaturelle,”saidPoirot.“Itisthefashionofthemoment.Theygrowoutofit.”
“Yes,Iknow,”saidMrs.Lacey.“Iwouldn’tworryaboutthatsortofthing.Butyouseeshe’stakenupwiththisDesmondLee-Wortleyandhereallyhasaveryunsavouryreputation.Helivesmoreorlessonwell-to-dogirls.Theyseemtogoquitemadabouthim.HeverynearlymarriedtheHopegirl,butherpeoplegothermadeawardincourtorsomething.Andofcoursethat’swhatHoracewantstodo.Hesayshemustdoitforherprotection.ButIdon’tthinkit’sreallyagoodidea,M.Poirot.Imean,they’lljustrunawaytogetherandgotoScotlandorIrelandortheArgentineorsomewhereandeithergetmarriedorelselivetogetherwithoutgettingmarried.Andalthoughitmaybecontemptofcourtandallthat—well,itisn’treallyananswer,isit,intheend?Especiallyifababy’scoming.Onehastogiveinthen,andletthemgetmarried.Andthen,nearlyalways,itseemstome,afterayearortwothere’sadivorce.Andthenthegirlcomeshomeandusuallyafterayearortwoshemarriessomeonesonicehe’salmostdullandsettlesdown.Butit’sparticularlysad,itseemstome,ifthereisachild,becauseit’snotthesamething,beingbroughtupbyastepfather,howevernice.No,Ithinkit’smuchbetterifwedidaswedidinmyyoungdays.Imeanthefirstyoungmanonefellinlovewithwasalwayssomeoneundesirable.IrememberIhadahorriblepassionforayoungmancalled—nowwhatwashisnamenow?—howstrangeitis,Ican’trememberhisChristiannameatall!Tibbitt,thatwashissurname.YoungTibbitt.Ofcourse,myfathermoreorlessforbadehimthehouse,butheusedtogetaskedtothesamedances,andweusedtodancetogether.Andsometimeswe’descapeandsitouttogetherandoccasionallyfriendswouldarrangepicnicstowhichwebothwent.Ofcourse,itwasallveryexcitingandforbiddenandoneenjoyeditenormously.Butonedidn’tgotothe—well,tothelengthsthatgirlsgonowadays.Andso,afterawhile,theMr.Tibbittsfadedout.Anddoyouknow,whenIsawhimfouryearslaterIwassurprisedwhatIcouldeverhaveseeninhim!Heseemedtobesuchadullyoungman.Flashy,youknow.Nointerestingconversation.”
“Onealwaysthinksthedaysofone’sownyoutharebest,”saidPoirot,somewhatsententiously.
“Iknow,”saidMrs.Lacey.“It’stiresome,isn’tit?Imustn’tbetiresome.ButallthesameIdon’twantSarah,who’sadeargirlreally,tomarryDesmondLee-Wortley.SheandDavidWelwyn,whoisstayinghere,werealwayssuchfriendsandsofondofeachother,andwedidhope,HoraceandI,thattheywouldgrowupandmarry.Butofcourseshejustfindshimdullnow,andshe’sabsolutelyinfatuatedwithDesmond.”
“Idonotquiteunderstand,Madame,”saidPoirot.“Youhavehimherenow,stayinginthehouse,thisDesmondLee-Wortley?”
“That’smydoing,”saidMrs.Lacey.“Horacewasallforforbiddinghertoseehimandallthat.Ofcourse,inHorace’sday,thefatherorguardianwouldhavecalledroundattheyoungman’slodgingswithahorsewhip!Horacewasallforforbiddingthefellowthehouse,andforbiddingthegirltoseehim.Itoldhimthatwasquitethewrongattitudetotake.‘No,’Isaid.‘Askhimdownhere.We’llhavehimdownforChristmaswiththefamilyparty.’Ofcourse,myhusbandsaidIwasmad!ButIsaid,‘Atanyrate,dear,let’stryit.Letherseehiminouratmosphereandourhouseandwe’llbeverynicetohimandverypolite,andperhapsthenhe’llseemlessinterestingtoher’!”
“Ithink,astheysay,youhavesomethingthere,Madame,”saidPoirot.“Ithinkyourpointofviewisverywise.Wiserthanyourhusband’s.”
“Well,Ihopeitis,”saidMrs.Laceydoubtfully.“Itdoesn’tseemtobeworkingmuchyet.Butofcoursehe’sonlybeenhereacoupleofdays.”Asuddendimpleshowedinherwrinkledcheek.“I’llconfesssomethingtoyou,M.Poirot.Imyselfcan’thelplikinghim.Idon’tmeanIreallylikehim,withmymind,butIcanfeelthecharmallright.Ohyes,IcanseewhatSarahseesinhim.ButI’manoldenoughwomanandhaveenoughexperiencetoknowthathe’sabsolutelynogood.EvenifIdoenjoyhiscompany.ThoughIdothink,”addedMrs.Lacey,ratherwistfully,“hehassomegoodpoints.Heaskedifhemightbringhissisterhere,youknow.She’shadanoperationandwasinhospital.HesaiditwassosadforherbeinginanursinghomeoverChristmasandhewonderedifitwouldbetoomuchtroubleifhecouldbringherwithhim.Hesaidhe’dtakeallhermealsuptoherandallthat.Wellnow,Idothinkthatwasratherniceofhim,don’tyou,M.Poirot?”
“Itshowsaconsideration,”saidPoirot,thoughtfully,“whichseemsalmostoutofcharacter.”
“Oh,Idon’tknow.Youcanhavefamilyaffectionsatthesametimeaswishingtopreyonarichyounggirl.Sarahwillbeveryrich,youknow,notonlywithwhatweleaveher—andofcoursethatwon’tbeverymuchbecausemostofthemoneygoeswiththeplacetoColin,mygrandson.ButhermotherwasaveryrichwomanandSarahwillinheritallhermoneywhenshe’stwenty-one.She’sonlytwentynow.No,IdothinkitwasniceofDesmondtomindabouthissister.Andhedidn’tpretendshewasanythingverywonderfulorthat.She’sashorthandtypist,Igather—doessecretarialworkinLondon.Andhe’sbeenasgoodashiswordanddoescarryuptraystoher.Notallthetime,ofcourse,butquiteoften.SoIthinkhehassomenicepoints.Butallthesame,”saidMrs.Laceywithgreatdecision,“Idon’twantSarahtomarryhim.”
“FromallIhaveheardandbeentold,”saidPoirot,“thatwouldindeedbeadisaster.”
“Doyouthinkitwouldbepossibleforyoutohelpusinanyway?”askedMrs.Lacey.
“Ithinkitispossible,yes,”saidHerculePoirot,“butIdonotwishtopromisetoomuch.FortheMr.DesmondLee-Wortleysofthisworldareclever,Madame.Butdonotdespair.Onecan,perhaps,doalittlesomething.Ishallatanyrate,putforthmybestendeavours,ifonlyingratitudeforyourkindnessinaskingmehereforthisChristmasfestivity.”Helookedroundhim.“AnditcannotbesoeasythesedaystohaveChristmasfestivities.”
“No,indeed,”Mrs.Laceysighed.Sheleanedforward.“Doyouknow,M.Poirot,whatIreallydreamof—whatIwouldlovetohave?”
“Buttellme,Madame.”
“Isimplylongtohaveasmall,modernbungalow.No,perhapsnotabungalowexactly,butasmall,modern,easytorunhousebuiltsomewhereintheparkhere,andliveinitwithanabsoluteup-to-datekitchenandnolongpassages.Everythingeasyandsimple.”
“Itisaverypracticalidea,Madame.”
“It’snotpracticalforme,”saidMrs.Lacey.“Myhusbandadoresthisplace.Heloveslivinghere.Hedoesn’tmindbeingslightlyuncomfortable,hedoesn’tmindtheinconveniencesandhewouldhate,simplyhate,toliveinasmallmodernhouseinthepark!”
“Soyousacrificeyourselftohiswishes?”
Mrs.Laceydrewherselfup.“Idonotconsideritasacrifice,M.Poirot,”shesaid.“Imarriedmyhusbandwiththewishtomakehimhappy.Hehasbeenagoodhusbandtomeandmademeveryhappyalltheseyears,andIwishtogivehappinesstohim.”
“Soyouwillcontinuetolivehere,”saidPoirot.
“It’snotreallytoouncomfortable,”saidMrs.Lacey.
“No,no,”saidPoirot,hastily.“Onthecontrary,itismostcomfortable.Yourcentralheatingandyourbathwaterareperfection.”
“Wespentalotofmoneyinmakingthehousecomfortabletolivein,”saidMrs.Lacey.“Wewereabletosellsomeland.Ripefordevelopment,Ithinktheycallit.Fortunatelyrightoutofsightofthehouseontheothersideofthepark.Reallyratheranuglybitofgroundwithnoniceview,butwegotaverygoodpriceforit.Sothatwehavebeenabletohaveasmanyimprovementsaspossible.”
“Buttheservice,Madame?”
“Oh,well,thatpresentslessdifficultythanyoumightthink.Ofcourse,onecannotexpecttobelookedafterandwaiteduponasoneusedtobe.Differentpeoplecomeinfromthevillage.Twowomeninthemorning,anothertwotocooklunchandwashitup,anddifferentonesagainintheevening.Thereareplentyofpeoplewhowanttocomeandworkforafewhoursaday.OfcourseforChristmasweareverylucky.MydearMrs.RossalwayscomesineveryChristmas.Sheisawonderfulcook,reallyfirst-class.Sheretiredabouttenyearsago,butshecomesintohelpusinanyemergency.ThenthereisdearPeverell.”
“Yourbutler?”
“Yes.Heispensionedoffandlivesinthelittlehousenearthelodge,butheissodevoted,andheinsistsoncomingtowaitonusatChristmas.Really,I’mterrified,M.Poirot,becausehe’ssooldandsoshakythatIfeelcertainthatifhecarriesanythingheavyhewilldropit.It’sreallyanagonytowatchhim.AndhisheartisnotgoodandI’mafraidofhisdoingtoomuch.ButitwouldhurthisfeelingsdreadfullyifIdidnotlethimcome.Hehemsandhahsandmakesdisapprovingnoiseswhenheseesthestateoursilverisinandwithinthreedaysofbeinghere,itisallwonderfulagain.Yes.Heisadearfaithfulfriend.”ShesmiledatPoirot.“Soyousee,weareallsetforahappyChristmas.AwhiteChristmas,too,”sheaddedasshelookedoutofthewindow.“See?Itisbeginningtosnow.Ah,thechildrenarecomingin.Youmustmeetthem,M.Poirot.”
Poirotwasintroducedwithdueceremony.First,toColinandMichael,theschoolboygrandsonandhisfriend,nicepoliteladsoffifteen,onedark,onefair.Thentotheircousin,Bridget,ablack-hairedgirlofaboutthesameagewithenormousvitality.
“Andthisismygranddaughter,Sarah,”saidMrs.Lacey.
PoirotlookedwithsomeinterestatSarah,anattractivegirlwithamopofredhair,hermannerseemedtohimnervyandatrifledefiant,butsheshowedrealaffectionforhergrandmother.
“AndthisisMr.Lee-Wortley.”
Mr.Lee-Wortleyworeafisherman’sjerseyandtightblackjeans;hishairwasratherlonganditseemeddoubtfulwhetherhehadshavedthatmorning.IncontrasttohimwasayoungmanintroducedasDavidWelwyn,whowassolidandquiet,withapleasantsmile,andratherobviouslyaddictedtosoapandwater.Therewasoneothermemberoftheparty,ahandsome,ratherintense-lookinggirlwhowasintroducedasDianaMiddleton.
Teawasbroughtin.Aheartymealofscones,crumpets,sandwichesandthreekindsofcake.Theyoungermembersofthepartyappreciatedthetea.ColonelLaceycameinlast,remarkinginanoncommittalvoice:
“Hey,tea?Ohyes,tea.”
Hereceivedhiscupofteafromhiswife’shand,helpedhimselftotwoscones,castalookofaversionatDesmondLee-Wortleyandsatdownasfarawayfromhimashecould.Hewasabigmanwithbushyeyebrowsandared,weather-beatenface.Hemighthavebeentakenforafarmerratherthanthelordofthemanor.
“Startedtosnow,”hesaid.“It’sgoingtobeawhiteChristmasallright.”
Afterteathepartydispersed.
“Iexpectthey’llgoandplaywiththeirtaperecordersnow,”saidMrs.LaceytoPoirot.Shelookedindulgentlyafterhergrandsonashelefttheroom.Hertonewasthatofonewhosays“Thechildrenaregoingtoplaywiththeirtoysoldiers.”
“They’refrightfullytechnical,ofcourse,”shesaid,“andverygrandaboutitall.”
TheboysandBridget,however,decidedtogoalongtothelakeandseeiftheiceonitwaslikelytomakeskatingpossible.
“Ithoughtwecouldhaveskatedonitthismorning,”saidColin.“ButoldHodgkinssaidno.He’salwayssoterriblycareful.”
“Comeforawalk,David,”saidDianaMiddleton,softly.
Davidhesitatedforhalfamoment,hiseyesonSarah’sredhead.ShewasstandingbyDesmondLee-Wortley,herhandonhisarm,lookingupintohisface.
“Allright,”saidDavidWelwyn,“yes,let’s.”
Dianaslippedaquickhandthroughhisarmandtheyturnedtowardsthedoorintothegarden.Sarahsaid:
“Shallwego,too,Desmond?It’sfearfullystuffyinthehouse.”
“Whowantstowalk?”saidDesmond.“I’llgetmycarout.We’llgoalongtotheSpeckledBoarandhaveadrink.”
Sarahhesitatedforamomentbeforesaying:
“Let’sgotoMarketLedburytotheWhiteHart.It’smuchmorefun.”
Thoughforalltheworldshewouldnothaveputitintowords,SarahhadaninstinctiverevulsionfromgoingdowntothelocalpubwithDesmond.Itwas,somehow,notinthetraditionofKingsLacey.ThewomenofKingsLaceyhadneverfrequentedthebaroftheSpeckledBoar.ShehadanobscurefeelingthattogotherewouldbetoletoldColonelLaceyandhiswifedown.Andwhynot?DesmondLee-Wortleywouldhavesaid.ForamomentofexasperationSarahfeltthatheoughttoknowwhynot!Onedidn’tupsetsucholddarlingsasGrandfatheranddearoldEmunlessitwasnecessary.They’dbeenverysweet,really,lettingherleadherownlife,notunderstandingintheleastwhyshewantedtoliveinChelseainthewayshedid,butacceptingit.ThatwasduetoEmofcourse.Grandfatherwouldhavekickedupnoendofarow.
Sarahhadnoillusionsabouthergrandfather’sattitude.ItwasnothisdoingthatDesmondhadbeenaskedtostayatKingsLacey.ThatwasEm,andEmwasadarlingandalwayshadbeen.
WhenDesmondhadgonetofetchhiscar,Sarahpoppedherheadintothedrawingroomagain.
“We’regoingovertoMarketLedbury,”shesaid.“Wethoughtwe’dhaveadrinkthereattheWhiteHart.”
Therewasaslightamountofdefianceinhervoice,butMrs.Laceydidnotseemtonoticeit.
“Well,dear,”shesaid.“I’msurethatwillbeverynice.DavidandDianahavegoneforawalk,Isee.I’msoglad.IreallythinkitwasabrainwaveonmyparttoaskDianahere.Sosadbeingleftawidowsoyoung—onlytwenty-two—Idohopeshemarriesagainsoon.”
Sarahlookedathersharply.“Whatareyouupto,Em?”
“It’smylittleplan,”saidMrs.Laceygleefully.“Ithinkshe’sjustrightforDavid.OfcourseIknowhewasterriblyinlovewithyou,Sarahdear,butyou’dnouseforhimandIrealizethatheisn’tyourtype.ButIdon’twanthimtogoonbeingunhappy,andIthinkDianawillreallysuithim.”
“Whatamatchmakeryouare,Em,”saidSarah.
“Iknow,”saidMrs.Lacey.“Oldwomenalwaysare.Diana’squitekeenonhimalready,Ithink.Don’tyouthinkshe’dbejustrightforhim?”
“Ishouldn’tsayso,”saidSarah.“IthinkDiana’sfartoo—well,toointense,tooserious.IshouldthinkDavidwouldfinditterriblyboringbeingmarriedtoher.”
“Well,we’llsee,”saidMrs.Lacey.“Anyway,youdon’twanthim,doyou,dear?”
“No,indeed,”saidSarah,veryquickly.Sheadded,inasuddenrush,“YoudolikeDesmond,don’tyou,Em?”
“I’msurehe’sveryniceindeed,”saidMrs.Lacey.
“Grandfatherdoesn’tlikehim,”saidSarah.
“Well,youcouldhardlyexpecthimto,couldyou?”saidMrs.Laceyreasonably,“butIdaresayhe’llcomeroundwhenhegetsusedtotheidea.Youmustn’trushhim,Sarahdear.Oldpeopleareveryslowtochangetheirmindsandyourgrandfatherisratherobstinate.”
“Idon’tcarewhatGrandfatherthinksorsays,”saidSarah.“IshallgetmarriedtoDesmondwheneverIlike!”
“Iknow,dear,Iknow.Butdotryandberealisticaboutit.Yourgrandfathercouldcausealotoftrouble,youknow.You’renotofageyet.Inanotheryearyoucandoasyouplease.IexpectHoracewillhavecomeroundlongbeforethat.”
“You’reonmysidearen’tyou,darling?”saidSarah.Sheflungherarmsroundhergrandmother’sneckandgaveheranaffectionatekiss.
“Iwantyoutobehappy,”saidMrs.Lacey.“Ah!there’syouryoungmanbringinghiscarround.Youknow,Iliketheseverytighttrouserstheseyoungmenwearnowadays.Theylooksosmart—only,ofcourse,itdoesaccentuateknockknees.”
Yes,Sarahthought,Desmondhadgotknockknees,shehadnevernoticeditbefore….
“Goon,dear,enjoyyourself,”saidMrs.Lacey.
Shewatchedhergoouttothecar,then,rememberingherforeignguest,shewentalongtothelibrary.Lookingin,however,shesawthatHerculePoirotwastakingapleasantlittlenap,andsmilingtoherself,shewentacrossthehallandoutintothekitchentohaveaconferencewithMrs.Ross.
“Comeon,beautiful,”saidDesmond.“Yourfamilycuttinguproughbecauseyou’recomingouttoapub?Yearsbehindthetimeshere,aren’tthey?”
“Ofcoursethey’renotmakingafuss,”saidSarah,sharplyasshegotintothecar.
“What’stheideaofhavingthatforeignfellowdown?He’sadetective,isn’the?Whatneedsdetectinghere?”
“Oh,he’snothereprofessionally,”saidSarah.“EdwinaMorecombe,mygrandmother,askedustohavehim.Ithinkhe’sretiredfromprofessionalworklongago.”
“Soundslikeabroken-downoldcabhorse,”saidDesmond.
“Hewantedtoseeanold-fashionedEnglishChristmas,Ibelieve,”saidSarahvaguely.
Desmondlaughedscornfully.“Suchalotoftripe,thatsortofthing,”hesaid.“HowyoucanstanditIdon’tknow.”
Sarah’sredhairwastossedbackandheraggressivechinshotup.
“Ienjoyit!”shesaiddefiantly.
“Youcan’t,baby.Let’scutthewholethingtomorrow.GoovertoScarboroughorsomewhere.”
“Icouldn’tpossiblydothat.”
“Whynot?”
“Oh,itwouldhurttheirfeelings.”
“Oh,bilge!Youknowyoudon’tenjoythischildishsentimentalbosh.”
“Well,notreallyperhapsbut—”Sarahbrokeoff.SherealizedwithafeelingofguiltthatshewaslookingforwardagooddealtotheChristmascelebration.Sheenjoyedthewholething,butshewasashamedtoadmitthattoDesmond.ItwasnotthethingtoenjoyChristmasandfamilylife.JustforamomentshewishedthatDesmondhadnotcomedownhereatChristmastime.Infact,shealmostwishedthatDesmondhadnotcomedownhereatall.ItwasmuchmorefunseeingDesmondinLondonthanhereathome.
InthemeantimetheboysandBridgetwerewalkingbackfromthelake,stilldiscussingearnestlytheproblemsofskating.Flecksofsnowhadbeenfalling,andlookingupattheskyitcouldbeprophesiedthatbeforelongtherewasgoingtobeaheavysnowfall.
“It’sgoingtosnowallnight,”saidColin.“BetyoubyChristmasmorningwehaveacoupleoffeetofsnow.”
Theprospectwasapleasurableone.
“Let’smakeasnowman,”saidMichael
“Goodlord,”saidColin,“Ihaven’tmadeasnowmansince—well,sinceIwasaboutfouryearsold.”
“Idon’tbelieveit’sabiteasytodo,”saidBridget.“Imean,youhavetoknowhow.”
“WemightmakeaneffigyofM.Poirot,”saidColin.“Giveitabigblackmoustache.Thereisoneinthedressing-upbox.”
“Idon’tsee,youknow,”saidMichaelthoughtfully,“howM.Poirotcouldeverhavebeenadetective.Idon’tseehowhe’deverbeabletodisguisehimself.”
“Iknow,”saidBridget,“andonecan’timaginehimrunningaboutwithamicroscopeandlookingforcluesormeasuringfootprints.”
“I’vegotanidea,”saidColin.“Let’sputonashowforhim!”
“Whatdoyoumean,ashow?”askedBridget.
“Well,arrangeamurderforhim.”
“Whatagorgeousidea,”saidBridget.“Doyoumeanabodyinthesnow—thatsortofthing?”
“Yes.Itwouldmakehimfeelathome,wouldn’tit?”
Bridgetgiggled.
“Idon’tknowthatI’dgoasfarasthat.”
“Ifitsnows,”saidColin,“we’llhavetheperfectsetting.Abodyandfootprints—we’llhavetothinkthatoutrathercarefullyandpinchoneofGrandfather’sdaggersandmakesomeblood.”
Theycametoahaltandoblivioustotherapidlyfallingsnow,enteredintoanexciteddiscussion.
“There’sapaintboxintheoldschoolroom.Wecouldmixupsomeblood—crimson-lake,Ishouldthink.”
“Crimson-lake’sabittoopink,Ithink,”saidBridget.“Itoughttobeabitbrowner.”
“Who’sgoingtobethebody?”askedMichael.
“I’llbethebody,”saidBridgetquickly.
“Oh,lookhere,”saidColin,“Ithoughtofit.”
“Oh,no,no,”saidBridget,“itmustbeme.It’sgottobeagirl.It’smoreexciting.Beautifulgirllyinglifelessinthesnow.”
“Beautifulgirl!Ah-ha,”saidMichaelinderision.
“I’vegotblackhair,too,”saidBridget.
“What’sthatgottodowithit?”
“Well,it’llshowupsowellonthesnowandIshallwearmyredpyjamas.”
“Ifyouwearredpyjamas,theywon’tshowthebloodstains,”saidMichaelinapracticalmanner.
“Butthey’dlooksoeffectiveagainstthesnow,”saidBridget,“andthey’vegotwhitefacings,youknow,sothebloodcouldbeonthat.Oh,won’titbegorgeous?Doyouthinkhewillreallybetakenin?”
“Hewillifwedoitwellenough,”saidMichael.“We’llhavejustyourfootprintsinthesnowandoneotherperson’sgoingtothebodyandcomingawayfromit—aman’s,ofcourse.Hewon’twanttodisturbthem,sohewon’tknowthatyou’renotreallydead.Youdon’tthink,”Michaelstopped,struckbyasuddenidea.Theotherslookedathim.“Youdon’tthinkhe’llbeannoyedaboutit?”
“Oh,Ishouldn’tthinkso,”saidBridget,withfacileoptimism.“I’msurehe’llunderstandthatwe’vejustdoneittoentertainhim.AsortofChristmastreat.”
“Idon’tthinkweoughttodoitonChristmasDay,”saidColinreflectively.“Idon’tthinkGrandfatherwouldlikethatverymuch.”
“BoxingDaythen,”saidBridget.
“BoxingDaywouldbejustright,”saidMichael.
“Andit’llgiveusmoretime,too,”pursuedBridget.“Afterall,therearealotofthingstoarrange.Let’sgoandhavealookatalltheprops.”
Theyhurriedintothehouse.
Theeveningwasabusyone.HollyandmistletoehadbeenbroughtininlargequantitiesandaChristmastreehadbeensetupatoneendofthediningroom.Everyonehelpedtodecorateit,toputupthebranchesofhollybehindpicturesandtohangmistletoeinaconvenientpositioninthehall.
“Ihadnoideaanythingsoarchaicstillwenton,”murmuredDesmondtoSarahwithasneer.
“We’vealwaysdoneit,”saidSarah,defensively.
“Whatareason!”
“Oh,don’tbetiresome,Desmond.Ithinkit’sfun.”
“Sarahmysweet,youcan’t!”
“Well,not—notreallyperhapsbut—Idoinaway.”
“Who’sgoingtobravethesnowandgotomidnightmass?”askedMrs.Laceyattwentyminutestotwelve.
“Notme,”saidDesmond.“Comeon,Sarah.”
Withahandonherarmheguidedherintothelibraryandwentovertotherecordcase.
“Therearelimits,darling,”saidDesmond.“Midnightmass!”
“Yes,”saidSarah.“Ohyes.”
Withagooddealoflaughter,donningofcoatsandstampingoffeet,mostoftheothersgotoff.Thetwoboys,Bridget,DavidandDianasetoutforthetenminutes’walktothechurchthroughthefallingsnow.Theirlaughterdiedawayinthedistance.
“Midnightmass!”saidColonelLacey,snorting.“Neverwenttomidnightmassinmyyoungdays.Mass,indeed!Popish,thatis!Oh,Ibegyourpardon,M.Poirot.”
Poirotwavedahand.“Itisquiteallright.Donotmindme.”
“Matinsisgoodenoughforanybody,Ishouldsay,”saidthecolonel.“ProperSundaymorningservice.‘Harktheheraldangelssing,’andallthegoodoldChristmashymns.AndthenbacktoChristmasdinner.That’sright,isn’tit,Em?”
“Yes,dear,”saidMrs.Lacey.“That’swhatwedo.Buttheyoungonesenjoythemidnightservice.Andit’snice,really,thattheywanttogo.”
“Sarahandthatfellowdon’twanttogo.”
“Well,theredear,Ithinkyou’rewrong,”saidMrs.Lacey.“Sarah,youknow,didwanttogo,butshedidn’tliketosayso.”
“Beatsmewhyshecareswhatthatfellow’sopinionis.”
“She’sveryyoung,really,”saidMrs.Laceyplacidly.“Areyougoingtobed,M.Poirot?Goodnight.Ihopeyou’llsleepwell.”
“Andyou,Madame?Areyounotgoingtobedyet?”
“Notjustyet,”saidMrs.Lacey.“I’vegotthestockingstofill,yousee.Oh,Iknowthey’reallpracticallygrownup,buttheydoliketheirstockings.Oneputsjokesinthem!Sillylittlethings.Butitallmakesforalotoffun.”
“YouworkveryhardtomakethisahappyhouseatChristmastime,”saidPoirot.“Ihonouryou.”
Heraisedherhandtohislipsinacourtlyfashion.
“Hm,”gruntedColonelLacey,asPoirotdeparted.“Flowerysortoffellow.Still—heappreciatesyou.”
Mrs.Laceydimpledupathim.“Haveyounoticed,Horace,thatI’mstandingunderthemistletoe?”sheaskedwiththedemurenessofagirlofnineteen.
HerculePoirotenteredhisbedroom.Itwasalargeroomwellprovidedwithradiators.Ashewentovertowardsthebigfour-posterbedhenoticedanenvelopelyingonhispillow.Heopeneditanddrewoutapieceofpaper.Onitwasashakilyprintedmessageincapitalletters.
DON’TEATNONEOFTHEPLUMPUDDING.ONEASWISHESYOUWELL.
HerculePoirotstaredatit.Hiseyebrowsrose.“Cryptic,”hemurmured,“andmostunexpected.”
Christmasdinnertookplaceat2p.m.andwasafeastindeed.Enormouslogscrackledmerrilyinthewidefireplaceandabovetheircracklingrosethebabelofmanytonguestalkingtogether.Oystersouphadbeenconsumed,twoenormousturkeyshadcomeandgone,merecarcassesoftheirformerselves.Now,thesuprememoment,theChristmaspuddingwasbroughtin,instate!OldPeverell,hishandsandhiskneesshakingwiththeweaknessofeightyyears,permittednoonebuthimselftobearitin.Mrs.Laceysat,herhandspressedtogetherinnervousapprehension.OneChristmas,shefeltsure,Peverellwouldfalldowndead.Havingeithertotaketheriskoflettinghimfalldowndeadorofhurtinghisfeelingstosuchanextentthathewouldprobablyprefertobedeadthanalive,shehadsofarchosentheformeralternative.OnasilverdishtheChristmaspuddingreposedinitsglory.Alargefootballofapudding,apieceofhollystuckinitlikeatriumphantflagandgloriousflamesofblueandredrisingroundit.Therewasacheerandcriesof“Ooh-ah.”
OnethingMrs.Laceyhaddone:prevaileduponPeverelltoplacethepuddinginfrontofhersothatshecouldhelpitratherthanhanditinturnroundthetable.Shebreathedasighofreliefasitwasdepositedsafelyinfrontofher.Rapidlytheplateswerepassedround,flamesstilllickingtheportions.
“Wish,M.Poirot,”criedBridget.“Wishbeforetheflamegoes.Quick,Grandarling,quick.”
Mrs.Laceyleantbackwithasighofsatisfaction.OperationPuddinghadbeenasuccess.Infrontofeveryonewasahelpingwithflamesstilllickingit.Therewasamomentarysilenceallroundthetableaseveryonewishedhard.
TherewasnobodytonoticetherathercuriousexpressiononthefaceofM.Poirotashesurveyedtheportionofpuddingonhisplate.“Don’teatnoneoftheplumpudding.”Whatonearthdidthatsinisterwarningmean?Therecouldbenothingdifferentabouthisportionofplumpuddingfromthatofeveryoneelse!Sighingasheadmittedhimselfbaffled—andHerculePoirotneverlikedtoadmithimselfbaffled—hepickeduphisspoonandfork.
“Hardsauce,M.Poirot?”
Poirothelpedhimselfappreciativelytohardsauce.
“Swipedmybestbrandyagain,ehEm?”saidthecolonelgood-humouredlyfromtheotherendofthetable.Mrs.Laceytwinkledathim.
“Mrs.Rossinsistsonhavingthebestbrandy,dear,”shesaid.“Shesaysitmakesallthedifference.”
“Well,well,”saidColonelLacey,“ChristmascomesbutonceayearandMrs.Rossisagreatwoman.Agreatwomanandagreatcook.”
“Sheisindeed,”saidColin.“Smashingplumpudding,this.Mmmm.”Hefilledanappreciativemouth.
Gently,almostgingerly,HerculePoirotattackedhisportionofpudding.Heateamouthful.Itwasdelicious!Heateanother.Somethingtinkledfaintlyonhisplate.Heinvestigatedwithafork.Bridget,onhisleft,cametohisaid.
“You’vegotsomething,M.Poirot,”shesaid.“Iwonderwhatitis.”
Poirotdetachedalittlesilverobjectfromthesurroundingraisinsthatclungtoit.
“Oooh,”saidBridget,“it’sthebachelor’sbutton!M.Poirot’sgotthebachelor’sbutton!”
HerculePoirotdippedthesmallsilverbuttonintothefinger-glassofwaterthatstoodbyhisplate,andwasheditclearofpuddingcrumbs.
“Itisverypretty,”heobserved.
“Thatmeansyou’regoingtobeabachelor,M.Poirot,”explainedColinhelpfully.
“Thatistobeexpected,”saidPoirotgravely.“IhavebeenabachelorformanylongyearsanditisunlikelythatIshallchangethatstatusnow.”
“Oh,neversaydie,”saidMichael.“Isawinthepaperthatsomeoneofninety-fivemarriedagirloftwenty-twotheotherday.”
“Youencourageme,”saidHerculePoirot.
ColonelLaceyutteredasuddenexclamation.Hisfacebecamepurpleandhishandwenttohismouth.
“Confoundit,Emmeline,”heroared,“whyonearthdoyouletthecookputglassinthepudding?”
“Glass!”criedMrs.Lacey,astonished
ColonelLaceywithdrewtheoffendingsubstancefromhismouth.“Mighthavebrokenatooth,”hegrumbled.“Orswallowedthedamnthingandhadappendicitis.”
Hedroppedthepieceofglassintothefingerbowl,rinseditandhelditup.
“Godblessmysoul,”heejaculated.“It’saredstoneoutofoneofthecrackerbrooches.”Hehelditaloft.
“Youpermit?”
VerydeftlyM.Poirotstretchedacrosshisneighbour,tookitfromColonelLacey’sfingersandexamineditattentively.Asthesquirehadsaid,itwasanenormousredstonethecolourofaruby.Thelightgleamedfromitsfacetsasheturneditabout.Somewherearoundthetableachairwaspushedsharplybackandthendrawninagain.
“Phew!”criedMichael.“Howwizarditwouldbeifitwasreal.”
“Perhapsitisreal,”saidBridgethopefully.
“Oh,don’tbeanass,Bridget.Whyarubyofthatsizewouldbeworththousandsandthousandsandthousandsofpounds.Wouldn’tit,M.Poirot?”
“Itwouldindeed,”saidPoirot.
“ButwhatIcan’tunderstand,”saidMrs.Lacey,“ishowitgotintothepudding.”
“Oooh,”saidColin,divertedbyhislastmouthful,“I’vegotthepig.Itisn’tfair.”
Bridgetchantedimmediately,“Colin’sgotthepig!Colin’sgotthepig!Colinisthegreedyguzzlingpig!”
“I’vegotthering,”saidDianainaclear,highvoice.
“Goodforyou,Diana.You’llbemarriedfirst,ofusall.”
“I’vegotthethimble,”wailedBridget.
“Bridget’sgoingtobeanoldmaid,”chantedthetwoboys.“Yah,Bridget’sgoingtobeanoldmaid.”
“Who’sgotthemoney?”demandedDavid.“There’sarealtenshillingpiece,gold,inthispudding.Iknow.Mrs.Rosstoldmeso.”
“IthinkI’mtheluckyone,”saidDesmondLee-Wortley.
ColonelLacey’stwonextdoorneighboursheardhimmutter.“Yes,youwouldbe.”
“I’vegotaring,too,”saidDavid.HelookedacrossatDiana.“Quiteacoincidence,isn’tit?”
Thelaughterwenton.NobodynoticedthatM.Poirotcarelessly,asthoughthinkingofsomethingelse,haddroppedtheredstoneintohispocket.
MincepiesandChristmasdessertfollowedthepudding.TheoldermembersofthepartythenretiredforawelcomesiestabeforetheteatimeceremonyofthelightingoftheChristmastree.HerculePoirot,however,didnottakeasiesta.Instead,hemadehiswaytotheenormousold-fashionedkitchen.
“Itispermitted,”heasked,lookingroundandbeaming,“thatIcongratulatethecookonthismarvellousmealthatIhavejusteaten?”
Therewasamoment’spauseandthenMrs.Rosscameforwardinastatelymannertomeethim.Shewasalargewoman,noblybuiltwithallthedignityofastageduchess.Twoleangrey-hairedwomenwerebeyondinthescullerywashingupandatow-hairedgirlwasmovingtoandfrobetweenthesculleryandthekitchen.Butthesewereobviouslymeremyrmidons.Mrs.Rosswasthequeenofthekitchenquarters.
“Iamgladtohearyouenjoyedit,sir,”shesaidgraciously.
“Enjoyedit!”criedHerculePoirot.Withanextravagantforeigngestureheraisedhishandtohislips,kissedit,andwaftedthekisstotheceiling.“Butyouareagenius,Mrs.Ross!Agenius!NeverhaveItastedsuchawonderfulmeal.Theoystersoup—”hemadeanexpressivenoisewithhislips“—andthestuffing.Thechestnutstuffingintheturkey,thatwasquiteuniqueinmyexperience.”
“Well,it’sfunnythatyoushouldsaythat,sir,”saidMrs.Rossgraciously.“It’saveryspecialrecipe,thatstuffing.ItwasgivenmebyanAustrianchefthatIworkedwithmanyyearsago.Butalltherest,”sheadded,“isjustgood,plainEnglishcooking.”
“Andisthereanythingbetter?”demandedHerculePoirot.
“Well,it’sniceofyoutosayso,sir.Ofcourse,youbeingaforeigngentlemanmighthavepreferredthecontinentalstyle.NotbutwhatIcan’tmanagecontinentaldishestoo.”
“Iamsure,Mrs.Ross,youcouldmanageanything!ButyoumustknowthatEnglishcooking—goodEnglishcooking,notthecookingonegetsinthesecond-classhotelsortherestaurants—ismuchappreciatedbygourmetsonthecontinent,andIbelieveIamcorrectinsayingthataspecialexpeditionwasmadetoLondonintheearlyeighteenhundreds,andareportsentbacktoFranceofthewondersoftheEnglishpuddings.‘WehavenothinglikethatinFrance,’theywrote.‘ItisworthmakingajourneytoLondonjusttotastethevarietiesandexcellenciesoftheEnglishpuddings.’Andaboveallpuddings,”continuedPoirot,welllaunchednowonakindofrhapsody,“istheChristmasplumpudding,suchaswehaveeatentoday.Thatwasahomemadepudding,wasitnot?Notaboughtone?”
“Yes,indeed,sir.OfmyownmakingandmyownrecipesuchasI’vemadeformanyyears.WhenIcamehereMrs.Laceysaidthatshe’dorderedapuddingfromaLondonstoretosavemethetrouble.Butno,Madam,Isaid,thatmaybekindofyoubutnoboughtpuddingfromastorecanequalahomemadeChristmasone.Mindyou,”saidMrs.Ross,warmingtohersubjectliketheartistshewas,“itwasmadetoosoonbeforetheday.AgoodChristmaspuddingshouldbemadesomeweeksbeforeandallowedtowait.Thelongerthey’rekept,withinreason,thebettertheyare.ImindnowthatwhenIwasachildandwewenttochurcheverySunday,we’dstartlisteningforthecollectthatbegins‘StirupOLordwebeseechthee’becausethatcollectwasthesignal,asitwere,thatthepuddingsshouldbemadethatweek.Andsotheyalwayswere.WehadthecollectontheSunday,andthatweeksureenoughmymotherwouldmaketheChristmaspuddings.Andsoitshouldhavebeenherethisyear.Asitwas,thatpuddingwasonlymadethreedaysago,thedaybeforeyouarrived,sir.However,Ikepttotheoldcustom.Everyoneinthehousehadtocomeoutintothekitchenandhaveastirandmakeawish.That’sanoldcustom,sir,andI’vealwaysheldtoit.”
“Mostinteresting,”saidHerculePoirot.“Mostinteresting.Andsoeveryonecameoutintothekitchen?”
“Yes,sir.Theyounggentlemen,MissBridgetandtheLondongentlemanwho’sstayinghere,andhissisterandMr.DavidandMissDiana—Mrs.Middleton,Ishouldsay—Allhadastir,theydid.”
“Howmanypuddingsdidyoumake?Isthistheonlyone?”
“No,sir,Imadefour.Twolargeonesandtwosmallerones.TheotherlargeoneIplannedtoserveonNewYear’sDayandthesmalleroneswereforColonelandMrs.Laceywhenthey’realonelikeandnotsomanyinthefamily.”
“Isee,Isee,”saidPoirot.
“Asamatteroffact,sir,”saidMrs.Ross,“itwasthewrongpuddingyouhadforlunchtoday.”
“Thewrongpudding?”Poirotfrowned.“Howisthat?”
“Well,sir,wehaveabigChristmasmould.AchinamouldwithapatternofhollyandmistletoeontopandwealwayshavetheChristmasDaypuddingboiledinthat.Buttherewasamostunfortunateaccident.Thismorning,whenAnniewasgettingitdownfromtheshelfinthelarder,sheslippedanddroppeditanditbroke.Well,sir,naturallyIcouldn’tservethat,couldI?Theremighthavebeensplintersinit.Sowehadtousetheotherone—theNewYear’sDayone,whichwasinaplainbowl.Itmakesaniceroundbutit’snotsodecorativeastheChristmasmould.Really,wherewe’llgetanothermouldlikethatIdon’tknow.Theydon’tmakethingsinthatsizenowadays.Alltiddlybitsofthings.Why,youcan’tevenbuyabreakfastdishthat’lltakeapropereighttoteneggsandbacon.Ah,thingsaren’twhattheywere.”
“No,indeed,”saidPoirot.“Buttodaythatisnotso.ThisChristmasDayhasbeenliketheChristmasDaysofold,isthatnottrue?”
Mrs.Rosssighed.“Well,I’mgladyousayso,sir,butofcourseIhaven’tthehelpnowthatIusedtohave.Notskilledhelp,thatis.Thegirlsnowadays—”sheloweredhervoiceslightly,“—theymeanverywellandthey’reverywillingbutthey’venotbeentrained,sir,ifyouunderstandwhatImean.”
“Timeschange,yes,”saidHerculePoirot.“Itoofinditsadsometimes.”
“Thishouse,sir,”saidMrs.Ross,“it’stoolarge,youknow,forthemistressandthecolonel.Themistress,sheknowsthat.Livinginacornerofitastheydo,it’snotthesamethingatall.Itonlycomesalive,asyoumightsay,atChristmastimewhenallthefamilycome.”
“Itisthefirsttime,Ithink,thatMr.Lee-Wortleyandhissisterhavebeenhere?”
“Yes,sir.”AnoteofslightreservecreptintoMrs.Ross’svoice.“Averynicegentlemanheisbut,well—itseemsafunnyfriendforMissSarahtohave,accordingtoourideas.Butthere—Londonwaysaredifferent!It’ssadthathissister’ssopoorly.Hadanoperation,shehad.Sheseemedallrightthefirstdayshewashere,butthatveryday,afterwe’dbeenstirringthepuddings,shewastookbadagainandshe’sbeeninbedeversince.Gotuptoosoonafterheroperation,Iexpect.Ah,doctorsnowadays,theyhaveyououtofhospitalbeforeyoucanhardlystandonyourfeet.Why,myveryownnephew’swife…”AndMrs.Rosswentintoalongandspiritedtaleofhospitaltreatmentasaccordedtoherrelations,comparingitunfavourablywiththeconsiderationthathadbeenlavishedupontheminoldertimes.
Poirotdulycommiseratedwithher.“Itremains,”hesaid,“tothankyouforthisexquisiteandsumptuousmeal.Youpermitalittleacknowledgementofmyappreciation?”AcrispfivepoundnotepassedfromhishandintothatofMrs.Rosswhosaidperfunctorily:
“Youreallyshouldn’tdothat,sir.”
“Iinsist.Iinsist.”
“Well,it’sverykindofyouindeed,sir.”Mrs.Rossacceptedthetributeasnomorethanherdue.“AndIwishyou,sir,averyhappyChristmasandaprosperousNewYear.”TheendofChristmasDaywasliketheendofmostChristmasDays.Thetreewaslighted,asplendidChristmascakecameinfortea,wasgreetedwithapprovalbutwaspartakenofonlymoderately.Therewascoldsupper.
BothPoirotandhishostandhostesswenttobedearly.
“Goodnight,M.Poirot,”saidMrs.Lacey.“Ihopeyou’veenjoyedyourself.”
“Ithasbeenawonderfulday,Madame,wonderful.”
“You’relookingverythoughtful,”saidMrs.Lacey.
“ItistheEnglishpuddingthatIconsider.”
“Youfounditalittleheavy,perhaps?”askedMrs.Laceydelicately.
“No,no,Idonotspeakgastronomically.Iconsideritssignificance.”
“It’straditional,ofcourse,”saidMrs.Lacey.“Well,goodnight,M.Poirot,anddon’tdreamtoomuchofChristmaspuddingsandmincepies.”
“Yes,”murmuredPoirottohimselfasheundressed.“Itisaproblemcertainly,thatChristmasplumpudding.ThereisheresomethingthatIdonotunderstandatall.”Heshookhisheadinavexedmanner.“Well—weshallsee.”
Aftermakingcertainpreparations,Poirotwenttobed,butnottosleep.
Itwassometwohourslaterthathispatiencewasrewarded.Thedoorofhisbedroomopenedverygently.Hesmiledtohimself.Itwasashehadthoughtitwouldbe.HismindwentbackfleetinglytothecupofcoffeesopolitelyhandedhimbyDesmondLee-Wortley.Alittlelater,whenDesmond’sbackwasturned,hehadlaidthecupdownforafewmomentsonatable.HehadthenapparentlypickeditupagainandDesmondhadhadthesatisfaction,ifsatisfactionitwas,ofseeinghimdrinkthecoffeetothelastdrop.ButalittlesmileliftedPoirot’smoustacheashereflectedthatitwasnothebutsomeoneelsewhowassleepingagoodsoundsleeptonight.“ThatpleasantyoungDavid,”saidPoirottohimself,“heisworried,unhappy.Itwilldohimnoharmtohaveanight’sreallysoundsleep.Andnow,letusseewhatwillhappen?”
Helayquitestill,breathinginanevenmannerwithoccasionallyasuggestion,buttheveryfaintestsuggestion,ofasnore.
Someonecameuptothebedandbentoverhim.Then,satisfied,thatsomeoneturnedawayandwenttothedressingtable.BythelightofatinytorchthevisitorwasexaminingPoirot’sbelongingsneatlyarrangedontopofthedressingtable.Fingersexploredthewallet,gentlypulledopenthedrawersofthedressingtable,thenextendedthesearchtothepocketsofPoirot’sclothes.Finallythevisitorapproachedthebedandwithgreatcautionslidhishandunderthepillow.Withdrawinghishand,hestoodforamomentortwoasthoughuncertainwhattodonext.Hewalkedroundtheroomlookinginsideornaments,wentintotheadjoiningbathroomfromwhencehepresentlyreturned.Then,withafaintexclamationofdisgust,hewentoutoftheroom.
“Ah,”saidPoirot,underhisbreath.“Youhaveadisappointment.Yes,yes,aseriousdisappointment.Bah!Toimagine,even,thatHerculePoirotwouldhidesomethingwhereyoucouldfindit!”Then,turningoveronhisotherside,hewentpeacefullytosleep.
Hewasarousednextmorningbyanurgentsofttappingonhisdoor.
“Quiestlà?Comein,comein.”
Thedooropened.Breathless,red-faced,Colinstooduponthethreshold.BehindhimstoodMichael.
“MonsieurPoirot,MonsieurPoirot.”
“Butyes?”Poirotsatupinbed.“Itistheearlytea?Butno.Itisyou,Colin.Whathasoccurred?”
Colinwas,foramoment,speechless.Heseemedtobeunderthegripofsomestrongemotion.InactualfactitwasthesightofthenightcapthatHerculePoirotworethataffectedforthemomenthisorgansofspeech.Presentlyhecontrolledhimselfandspoke.
“Ithink—M.Poirot,couldyouhelpus?Somethingratherawfulhashappened.”
“Somethinghashappened?Butwhat?”
“It’s—it’sBridget.She’soutthereinthesnow.Ithink—shedoesn’tmoveorspeakand—oh,you’dbettercomeandlookforyourself.I’mterriblyafraid—shemaybedead.”
“What?”Poirotcastasidehisbedcovers.“MademoiselleBridget—dead!”
“Ithink—Ithinksomebody’skilledher.There’s—there’sbloodand—ohdocome!”
“Butcertainly.Butcertainly.Icomeontheinstant.”
WithgreatpracticalityPoirotinsertedhisfeetintohisoutdoorshoesandpulledafur-linedovercoatoverhispyjamas.
“Icome,”hesaid.“Icomeonthemoment.Youhavearousedthehouse?”
“No.No,sofarIhaven’ttoldanyonebutyou.Ithoughtitwouldbebetter.GrandfatherandGranaren’tupyet.They’relayingbreakfastdownstairs,butIdidn’tsayanythingtoPeverell.She—Bridget—she’sroundtheothersideofthehouse,neartheterraceandthelibrarywindow.”
“Isee.Leadtheway.Iwillfollow.”
Turningawaytohidehisdelightedgrin,Colinledthewaydownstairs.Theywentoutthroughthesidedoor.Itwasaclearmorningwiththesunnotyethighoverthehorizon.Itwasnotsnowingnow,butithadsnowedheavilyduringthenightandeverywherearoundwasanunbrokencarpetofthicksnow.Theworldlookedverypureandwhiteandbeautiful.
“There!”saidColinbreathlessly.“I—it’s—there!”Hepointeddramatically.
Thescenewasindeeddramaticenough.AfewyardsawayBridgetlayinthesnow.Shewaswearingscarletpyjamasandawhitewoolwrapthrownroundhershoulders.Thewhitewoolwrapwasstainedwithcrimson.Herheadwasturnedasideandhiddenbythemassofheroutspreadblackhair.Onearmwasunderherbody,theotherlayflungout,thefingersclenched,andstandingupinthecentreofthecrimsonstainwasthehiltofalargecurvedKurdishknifewhichColonelLaceyhadshowntohisguestsonlytheeveningbefore.
“MonDieu!”ejaculatedM.Poirot.“Itislikesomethingonthestage!”
TherewasafaintchokingnoisefromMichael.Colinthrusthimselfquicklyintothebreach.
“Iknow,”hesaid.“It—itdoesn’tseemrealsomehow,doesit.Doyouseethosefootprints—Isupposewemustn’tdisturbthem?”
“Ahyes,thefootprints.No,wemustbecarefulnottodisturbthosefootprints.”
“That’swhatIthought,”saidColin.“That’swhyIwouldn’tletanyonegonearheruntilwegotyou.Ithoughtyou’dknowwhattodo.”
“Allthesame,”saidHerculePoirotbriskly,“first,wemustseeifsheisstillalive?Isnotthatso?”
“Well—yes—ofcourse,”saidMichael,alittledoubtfully,“butyousee,wethought—Imean,wedidn’tlike—”
“Ah,youhavetheprudence!Youhavereadthedetectivestories.Itismostimportantthatnothingshouldbetouchedandthatthebodyshouldbeleftasitis.Butwecannotbesureasyetifitisabody,canwe?Afterall,thoughprudenceisadmirable,commonhumanitycomesfirst.Wemustthinkofthedoctor,mustwenot,beforewethinkofthepolice?”
“Ohyes.Ofcourse,”saidColin,stillalittletakenaback.
“Weonlythought—Imean—wethoughtwe’dbettergetyoubeforewedidanything,”saidMichaelhastily.
“Thenyouwillbothremainhere,”saidPoirot.“Iwillapproachfromtheothersidesoasnottodisturbthesefootprints.Suchexcellentfootprints,aretheynot—soveryclear?Thefootprintsofamanandagirlgoingouttogethertotheplacewhereshelies.Andthentheman’sfootstepscomebackbutthegirl’s—donot.”
“Theymustbethefootprintsofthemurderer,”saidColin,withbatedbreath
“Exactly,”saidPoirot.“Thefootprintsofthemurderer.Alongnarrowfootwithratherapeculiartypeofshoe.Veryinteresting.Easy,Ithink,torecognize.Yes,thosefootprintswillbeveryimportant.”
AtthatmomentDesmondLee-WortleycameoutofthehousewithSarahandjoinedthem.
“Whatonearthareyoualldoinghere?”hedemandedinasomewhattheatricalmanner.“Isawyoufrommybedroomwindow.What’sup?Goodlord,what’sthis?It—itlookslike—”
“Exactly,”saidHerculePoirot.“Itlookslikemurder,doesitnot?”
Sarahgaveagasp,thenshotaquicksuspiciousglanceatthetwoboys.
“Youmeansomeone’skilledthegirl—what’s-her-name—Bridget?”demandedDesmond.“Whoonearthwouldwanttokillher?It’sunbelievable!”
“Therearemanythingsthatareunbelievable,”saidPoirot.“Especiallybeforebreakfast,isitnot?Thatiswhatoneofyourclassicssays.Siximpossiblethingsbeforebreakfast.”Headded:“Pleasewaithere,allofyou.”
Carefullymakingacircuit,heapproachedBridgetandbentforamomentdownoverthebody.ColinandMichaelwerenowbothshakingwithsuppressedlaughter.Sarahjoinedthem,murmuring“Whathaveyoutwobeenupto?”
“GoodoldBridget,”whisperedColin.“Isn’tshewonderful?Notatwitch!”
“I’veneverseenanythinglooksodeadasBridgetdoes,”whisperedMichael.
HerculePoirotstraightenedupagain.
“Thisisaterriblething,”hesaid.Hisvoiceheldanemotionithadnotheldbefore.
Overcomebymirth,MichaelandColinbothturnedaway.InachokedvoiceMichaelsaid:
“What—whatmustwedo?”
“Thereisonlyonethingtodo,”saidPoirot.“Wemustsendforthepolice.Willoneofyoutelephoneorwouldyouprefermetodoit?”
“Ithink,”saidColin,“Ithink—whataboutit,Michael?”
“Yes,”saidMichael,“Ithinkthejig’supnow.”Hesteppedforward.Forthefirsttimeheseemedalittleunsureofhimself.“I’mawfullysorry,”hesaid,“Ihopeyouwon’tmindtoomuch.It—er—itwasasortofjokeforChristmasandallthat,youknow.Wethoughtwe’d—well,layonamurderforyou.”
“Youthoughtyouwouldlayonamurderforme?Thenthis—thenthis—”
“It’sjustashowweputon,”explained.Colin,“to—tomakeyoufeelathome,youknow.”
“Aha,”saidHerculePoirot.“Iunderstand.YoumakeofmetheAprilfool,isthatit?ButtodayisnotAprilthefirst,itisDecemberthetwenty-sixth.”
“Isupposeweoughtn’ttohavedoneitreally,”saidColin,“but—but—youdon’tmindverymuch,doyou,M.Poirot?Comeon,Bridget,”hecalled,“getup.Youmustbehalffrozentodeathalready.”
Thefigureinthesnow,however,didnotstir.
“Itisodd,”saidHerculePoirot,“shedoesnotseemtohearyou.”Helookedthoughtfullyatthem.“Itisajoke,yousay?Youaresurethisisajoke?”
“Why,yes.”Colinspokeuncomfortably.“We—wedidn’tmeananyharm.”
“ButwhythendoesMademoiselleBridgetnotgetup?”
“Ican’timagine,”saidColin.
“Comeon,Bridget,”saidSarahimpatiently.“Don’tgoonlyingthereplayingthefool.”
“Wereallyareverysorry,M.Poirot,”saidColinapprehensively.“Wedoreallyapologize.”
“Youneednotapologize,”saidPoirot,inapeculiartone.
“Whatdoyoumean?”Colinstaredathim.Heturnedagain.“Bridget!Bridget!What’sthematter?Whydoesn’tshegetup?Whydoesshegoonlyingthere?”
PoirotbeckonedtoDesmond.“You,Mr.Lee-Wortley.Comehere—”
Desmondjoinedhim.
“Feelherpulse,”saidPoirot.
DesmondLee-Wortleybentdown.Hetouchedthearm—thewrist.
“There’snopulse…”hestaredatPoirot.“Herarm’sstill.GoodGod,shereallyisdead!”
Poirotnodded.“Yes,sheisdead,”hesaid.“Someonehasturnedthecomedyintoatragedy.”
“Someone—who?”
“Thereisasetoffootprintsgoingandreturning.Asetoffootprintsthatbearsastrongresemblancetothefootprintsyouhavejustmade,Mr.Lee-Wortley,comingfromthepathtothisspot.”
DesmondLee-Wortleywheeledround.
“Whatonearth—Areyouaccusingme?ME?You’recrazy!WhyonearthshouldIwanttokillthegirl?”
“Ah—why?Iwonder…Letussee….”
Hebentdownandverygentlyprisedopenthestifffingersofthegirl’sclenchedhand.
Desmonddrewasharpbreath.Hegazeddownunbelievingly.Inthepalmofthedeadgirl’shandwaswhatappearedtobealargeruby.
“It’sthatdamnthingoutofthepudding!”hecried.
“Isit?”saidPoirot.“Areyousure?”
“Ofcourseitis.”
WithaswiftmovementDesmondbentdownandpluckedtheredstoneoutofBridget’shand.
“Youshouldnotdothat,”saidPoirotreproachfully.“Nothingshouldhavebeendisturbed.”
“Ihaven’tdisturbedthebody,haveI?Butthisthingmight—mightgetlostandit’sevidence.Thegreatthingistogetthepolicehereassoonaspossible.I’llgoatonceandtelephone.”
Hewheeledroundandransharplytowardsthehouse.SarahcameswiftlytoPoirot’sside.
“Idon’tunderstand,”shewhispered.Herfacewasdeadwhite.“Idon’tunderstand.”ShecaughtatPoirot’sarm.“Whatdidyoumeanabout—aboutthefootprints?”
“Lookforyourself,Mademoiselle.”
ThefootprintsthatledtothebodyandbackagainwerethesameastheonesjustmadeaccompanyingPoirottothegirl’sbodyandback.
“Youmean—thatitwasDesmond?Nonsense!”
Suddenlythenoiseofacarcamethroughtheclearair.Theywheeledround.TheysawthecarclearlyenoughdrivingatafuriouspacedownthedriveandSarahrecognizedwhatcaritwas.
“It’sDesmond,”shesaid.“It’sDesmond’scar.He—hemusthavegonetofetchthepoliceinsteadoftelephoning.”
DianaMiddletoncamerunningoutofthehousetojointhem.
“What’shappened?”shecriedinabreathlessvoice.“Desmondjustcamerushingintothehouse.HesaidsomethingaboutBridgetbeingkilledandthenherattledthetelephonebutitwasdead.Hecouldn’tgetananswer.Hesaidthewiresmusthavebeencut.Hesaidtheonlythingwastotakeacarandgoforthepolice.Whythepolice?…”
Poirotmadeagesture.
“Bridget?”Dianastaredathim.“Butsurely—isn’titajokeofsomekind?Iheardsomething—somethinglastnight.Ithoughtthattheyweregoingtoplayajokeonyou,M.Poirot?”
“Yes,”saidPoirot,“thatwastheidea—toplayajokeonme.Butnowcomeintothehouse,allofyou.WeshallcatchourdeathsofcoldhereandthereisnothingtobedoneuntilMr.Lee-Wortleyreturnswiththepolice.”
“Butlookhere,”saidColin,“wecan’t—wecan’tleaveBridgetherealone.”
“Youcandohernogoodbyremaining,”saidPoirotgently.“Come,itisasad,averysadtragedy,butthereisnothingwecandoanymoretohelpMademoiselleBridget.Soletuscomeinandgetwarmandhaveperhapsacupofteaorofcoffee.”
Theyfollowedhimobedientlyintothehouse.Peverellwasjustabouttostrikethegong.IfhethoughtitextraordinaryformostofthehouseholdtobeoutsideandforPoirottomakeanappearanceinpyjamasandanovercoat,hedisplayednosignofit.Peverellinhisoldagewasstilltheperfectbutler.Henoticednothingthathewasnotaskedtonotice.Theywentintothediningroomandsatdown.Whentheyallhadacupofcoffeeinfrontofthemandweresippingit,Poirotspoke.
“Ihavetorecounttoyou,”hesaid,“alittlehistory.Icannottellyouallthedetails,no.ButIcangiveyouthemainoutline.Itconcernsayoungprincelingwhocametothiscountry.Hebroughtwithhimafamousjewelwhichhewastohaveresetfortheladyhewasgoingtomarry,butunfortunatelybeforethathemadefriendswithaveryprettyyounglady.Thisprettyyoungladydidnotcareverymuchfortheman,butshedidcareforhisjewel—somuchsothatonedayshedisappearedwiththishistoricpossessionwhichhadbelongedtohishouseforgenerations.Sothepooryoungman,heisinaquandary,yousee.Aboveallhecannothaveascandal.Impossibletogotothepolice.Thereforehecomestome,toHerculePoirot.‘Recoverforme,’hesays,‘myhistoricruby.’Ehbien,thisyounglady,shehasafriend,andthefriend,hehasputthroughseveralveryquestionabletransactions.Hehasbeenconcernedwithblackmailandhehasbeenconcernedwiththesaleofjewelleryabroad.Alwayshehasbeenveryclever.Heissuspected,yes,butnothingcanbeproved.Itcomestomyknowledgethatthisveryclevergentleman,heisspendingChristmashereinthishouse.Itisimportantthattheprettyyounglady,onceshehasacquiredthejewel,shoulddisappearforawhilefromcirculation,sothatnopressurecanbeputuponher,noquestionscanbeaskedher.Itisarranged,therefore,thatshecomesheretoKingsLacey,ostensiblyasthesisteroftheclevergentleman—”
Sarahdrewasharpbreath.
“Oh,no.Oh,no,nothere!Notwithmehere!”
“Butsoitis,”saidPoirot.“AndbyalittlemanipulationI,too,becomeaguesthereforChristmas.Thisyounglady,sheissupposedtohavejustcomeoutofhospital.Sheismuchbetterwhenshearriveshere.ButthencomesthenewsthatI,too,arrive,adetective—awell-knowndetective.Atonceshehaswhatyoucallthewindup.Shehidestherubyinthefirstplaceshecanthinkof,andthenveryquicklyshehasarelapseandtakestoherbedagain.ShedoesnotwantthatIshouldseeher,fordoubtlessIhaveaphotographandIshallrecognizeher.Itisveryboringforher,yes,butshehastostayinherroomandherbrother,hebringsherupthetrays.”
“Andtheruby?”demandedMichael.
“Ithink,”saidPoirot,“thatatthemomentitismentionedIarrive,theyoungladywasinthekitchenwiththerestofyou,alllaughingandtalkingandstirringtheChristmaspuddings.TheChristmaspuddingsareputintobowlsandtheyoungladyshehidestheruby,pressingitdownintooneofthepuddingbowls.NottheonethatwearegoingtohaveonChristmasDay.Ohno,thatonesheknowsisinaspecialmould.Sheputitintheotherone,theonethatisdestinedtobeeatenonNewYear’sDay.Beforethenshewillbereadytoleave,andwhensheleavesnodoubtthatChristmaspuddingwillgowithher.Butseehowfatetakesahand.OntheverymorningofChristmasDaythereisanaccident.TheChristmaspuddinginitsfancymouldisdroppedonthestonefloorandthemouldisshatteredtopieces.Sowhatcanbedone?ThegoodMrs.Ross,shetakestheotherpuddingandsendsitin.”
“Goodlord,”saidColin,“doyoumeanthatonChristmasDaywhenGrandfatherwaseatinghispuddingthatthatwasarealrubyhe’dgotinhismouth?”
“Precisely,”saidPoirot,“andyoucanimaginetheemotionsofMr.DesmondLee-Wortleywhenhesawthat.Ehbien,whathappensnext?Therubyispassedround.IexamineitandImanageunobtrusivelytoslipitinmypocket.InacarelesswayasthoughIwerenotinterested.ButonepersonatleastobserveswhatIhavedone.WhenIlieinbedthatpersonsearchesmyroom.Hesearchesme.Hedoesnotfindtheruby.Why?”
“Because,”saidMichaelbreathlessly,“youhadgivenittoBridget.That’swhatyoumean.Andsothat’swhy—butIdon’tunderstandquite—Imean—Lookhere,whatdidhappen?”
Poirotsmiledathim.
“Comenowintothelibrary,”hesaid,“andlookoutofthewindowandIwillshowyousomethingthatmayexplainthemystery.”
Heledthewayandtheyfollowedhim.
“Consideronceagain,”saidPoirot,“thesceneofthecrime.”
Hepointedoutofthewindow.Asimultaneousgaspbrokefromthelipsofallofthem.Therewasnobodylyingonthesnow,notraceofthetragedyseemedtoremainexceptamassofscuffledsnow.
“Itwasn’talladream,wasit?”saidColinfaintly.“I—hassomeonetakenthebodyaway?”
“Ah,”saidPoirot.“Yousee?TheMysteryoftheDisappearingBody.”Henoddedhisheadandhiseyestwinkledgently.
“Goodlord,”criedMichael.“M.Poirot,youare—youhaven’t—oh,lookhere,he’sbeenhavingusonallthistime!”
Poirottwinkledmorethanever.
“Itistrue,mychildren,Ialsohavehadmylittlejoke.Iknewaboutyourlittleplot,yousee,andsoIarrangedacounterplotofmyown.Ah,voilàMademoiselleBridget.Nonetheworse,Ihope,foryourexposureinthesnow?NevershouldIforgivemyselfifyouattrappedunefluxiondepoitrine.”
Bridgethadjustcomeintotheroom.Shewaswearingathickskirtandawoollensweater.Shewaslaughing.
“Isentatisanetoyourroom,”saidPoirotseverely.“Youhavedrunkit?”
“Onesipwasenough!”saidBridget.“I’mallright.DidIdoitwell,M.Poirot?Goodness,myarmhurtsstillafterthattourniquetyoumademeputonit.”
“Youweresplendid,mychild,”saidPoirot.“Splendid.Butsee,alltheothersarestillinthefog.LastnightIwenttoMademoiselleBridget.ItoldherthatIknewaboutyourlittlecomplotandIaskedherifshewouldactapartforme.Shediditverycleverly.ShemadethefootprintswithapairofMr.Lee-Wortley’sshoes.”
Sarahsaidinaharshvoice:
“Butwhat’sthepointofitall,M.Poirot?What’sthepointofsendingDesmondofftofetchthepolice?They’llbeveryangrywhentheyfindoutit’snothingbutahoax.”
Poirotshookhisheadgently.
“ButIdonotthinkforonemoment,Mademoiselle,thatMr.Lee-Wortleywenttofetchthepolice,”hesaid.“MurderisathinginwhichMr.Lee-Wortleydoesnotwanttobemixedup.Helosthisnervebadly.Allhecouldseewashischancetogettheruby.Hesnatchedthat,hepretendedthetelephonewasoutoforderandherushedoffinacaronthepretenceoffetchingthepolice.Ithinkmyselfitisthelastyouwillseeofhimforsometime.Hehas,Iunderstand,hisownwaysofgettingoutofEngland.Hehashisownplane,hashenot,Mademoiselle?”
Sarahnodded.“Yes,”shesaid.“Wewerethinkingof—”Shestopped.
“Hewantedyoutoelopewithhimthatway,didhenot?Ehbien,thatisaverygoodwayofsmugglingajeweloutofthecountry.Whenyouareelopingwithagirl,andthatfactispublicized,thenyouwillnotbesuspectedofalsosmugglingahistoricjeweloutofthecountry.Ohyes,thatwouldhavemadeaverygoodcamouflage.”
“Idon’tbelieveit,”saidSarah.“Idon’tbelieveawordofit!”
“Thenaskhissister,”saidPoirot,gentlynoddinghisheadoverhershoulder.Sarahturnedherheadsharply.
Aplatinumblondestoodinthedoorway.Sheworeafurcoatandwasscowling.Shewasclearlyinafurioustemper.
“Sistermyfoot!”shesaid,withashortunpleasantlaugh.“Thatswine’snobrotherofmine!Sohe’sbeatenit,hashe,andleftmetocarrythecan?Thewholethingwashisidea!Heputmeuptoit!Saiditwasmoneyforjam.They’dneverprosecutebecauseofthescandal.IcouldalwaysthreatentosaythatAlihadgivenmehishistoricjewel.DesandIweretohavesharedtheswaginParis—andnowtheswinerunsoutonme!I’dliketomurderhim!”Sheswitchedabruptly.“ThesoonerIgetoutofhere—Cansomeonetelephoneforataxi?”
“Acariswaitingatthefrontdoortotakeyoutothestation,Mademoiselle,”saidPoirot.
“Thinkofeverything,don’tyou?”
“Mostthings,”saidPoirotcomplacently.
ButPoirotwasnottogetoffsoeasily.WhenhereturnedtothediningroomafterassistingthespuriousMissLee-Wortleyintothewaitingcar,Colinwaswaitingforhim.
Therewasafrownonhisboyishface.
“Butlookhere,M.Poirot.Whatabouttheruby?Doyoumeantosayyou’velethimgetawaywithit?”
Poirot’sfacefell.Hetwirledhismoustaches.Heseemedillatease.
“Ishallrecoverityet,”hesaidweakly.“Thereareotherways.Ishallstill—”
“Well,Idothink!”saidMichael.“Toletthatswinegetawaywiththeruby!”
Bridgetwassharper.
“He’shavingusonagain,”shecried.“Youare,aren’tyou,M.Poirot?”
“Shallwedoafinalconjuringtrick,Mademoiselle?Feelinmyleft-handpocket.”
Bridgetthrustherhandin.Shedrewitoutagainwithascreamoftriumphandheldaloftalargerubyblinkingincrimsonsplendour.
“Youcomprehend,”explainedPoirot,“theonethatwasclaspedinyourhandwasapastereplica.IbroughtitfromLondonincaseitwaspossibletomakeasubstitute.Youunderstand?Wedonotwantthescandal.MonsieurDesmondwilltryanddisposeofthatrubyinParisorinBelgiumorwhereveritisthathehashiscontacts,andthenitwillbediscoveredthatthestoneisnotreal!Whatcouldbemoreexcellent?Allfinisheshappily.Thescandalisavoided,myprincelingreceiveshisrubybackagain,hereturnstohiscountryandmakesasoberandwehopeahappymarriage.Allendswell.”
“Exceptforme,”murmuredSarahunderherbreath.
ShespokesolowthatnooneheardherbutPoirot.Heshookhisheadgently.
“Youareinerror,MademoiselleSarah,inwhatyousaythere.Youhavegainedexperience.Allexperienceisvaluable.AheadofyouIprophesytherelieshappiness.”
“That’swhatyousay,”saidSarah.
“Butlookhere,M.Poirot,”Colinwasfrowning.“Howdidyouknowabouttheshowweweregoingtoputonforyou?”
“Itismybusinesstoknowthings,”saidHerculePoirot.Hetwirledhismoustache.
“Yes,butIdon’tseehowyoucouldhavemanagedit.Didsomeonesplit—didsomeonecomeandtellyou?”
“No,no,notthat.”
“Thenhow?Tellushow?”
Theyallchorused,“Yes,tellushow.”
“Butno,”Poirotprotested.“Butno.IfItellyouhowIdeducedthat,youwillthinknothingofit.Itisliketheconjurerwhoshowshowhistricksaredone!”
“Tellus,M.Poirot!Goon.Tellus,tellus!”
“YoureallywishthatIshouldsolveforyouthislastmystery?”
“Yes,goon.Tellus.”
“Ah,IdonotthinkIcan.Youwillbesodisappointed.”
“Now,comeon,M.Poirot,tellus.Howdidyouknow?”
“Well,yousee,IwassittinginthelibrarybythewindowinachairafterteatheotherdayandIwasreposingmyself.IhadbeenasleepandwhenIawokeyouwerediscussingyourplansjustoutsidethewindowclosetome,andthewindowwasopenatthetop.”
“Isthatall?”criedColin,disgusted.“Howsimple!”
“Isitnot?”saidHerculePoirot,smiling.“Yousee?Youaredisappointed!”
“Ohwell,”saidMichael,“atanyrateweknoweverythingnow.”
“Dowe?”murmuredHerculePoirottohimself.“Idonot.I,whosebusinessitistoknowthings.”
Hewalkedoutintothehall,shakinghisheadalittle.Forperhapsthetwentiethtimehedrewfromhispocketaratherdirtypieceofpaper.“don’teatnoneoftheplumpudding.oneaswishesyouwell.”
HerculePoirotshookhisheadreflectively.Hewhocouldexplaineverythingcouldnotexplainthis!Humiliating.Whohadwrittenit?Whyhaditbeenwritten?Untilhefoundthatouthewouldneverknowamoment’speace.Suddenlyhecameoutofhisreverietobeawareofapeculiargaspingnoise.Helookedsharplydown.Onthefloor,busywithadustpanandbrushwasatow-headedcreatureinafloweredoverall.Shewasstaringatthepaperinhishandwithlargeroundeyes.
“Ohsir,”saidthisapparition.“Oh,sir.Please,sir.”
“Andwhomayyoube,monenfant?”inquiredM.Poirotgenially.
“AnnieBates,sir,please,sir.IcomeheretohelpMrs.Ross.Ididn’tmean,sir,Ididn’tmeanto—todoanythingwhatIshouldn’tdo.Ididmeanitwell,sir.Foryourgood,Imean.”
EnlightenmentcametoPoirot.Heheldoutthedirtypieceofpaper.
“Didyouwritethat,Annie?”
“Ididn’tmeananyharm,sir.ReallyIdidn’t.”
“Ofcourseyoudidn’t,Annie.”Hesmiledather.“Buttellmeaboutit.Whydidyouwritethis?”
“Well,itwasthemtwo,sir.Mr.Lee-Wortleyandhissister.Notthatshewashissister,I’msure.Noneofusthoughtso!Andshewasn’tillabit.Wecouldalltellthat.Wethought—weallthought—somethingqueerwasgoingon.I’lltellyoustraight,sir.Iwasinherbathroomtakinginthecleantowels,andIlistenedatthedoor.Hewasinherroomandtheyweretalkingtogether.Iheardwhattheysaidplainasplain.‘Thisdetective,’hewassaying.‘ThisfellowPoirotwho’scominghere.We’vegottodosomethingaboutit.We’vegottogethimoutofthewayassoonaspossible.’Andthenhesaystoherinanasty,sinistersortofway,loweringhisvoice,‘Wheredidyouputit?’Andsheansweredhim,‘Inthepudding.’Oh,sir,myheartgavesuchaleapIthoughtitwouldstopbeating.IthoughttheymeanttopoisonyouintheChristmaspudding.Ididn’tknowwhattodo!Mrs.Ross,shewouldn’tlistentothelikesofme.ThentheideacametomeasI’dwriteyouawarning.AndIdidandIputitonyourpillowwhereyou’dfinditwhenyouwenttobed.”Anniepausedbreathlessly.
Poirotsurveyedhergravelyforsomeminutes.
“Youseetoomanysensationalfilms,Ithink,Annie,”hesaidatlast,“orperhapsitisthetelevisionthataffectsyou?Buttheimportantthingisthatyouhavethegoodheartandacertainamountofingenuity.WhenIreturntoLondonIwillsendyouapresent.”
“Ohthankyou,sir.Thankyouverymuch,sir.”
“Whatwouldyoulike,Annie,asapresent?”
“AnythingIlike,sir?CouldIhaveanythingIlike?”
“Withinreason,”saidHerculePoirotprudently,“yes.”
“Ohsir,couldIhaveavanitybox?Arealposhslap-upvanityboxliketheoneMr.Lee-Wortley’ssister,wotwasn’thissister,had?”
“Yes,”saidPoirot,“yes,Ithinkthatcouldbemanaged.
“Itisinteresting,”hemused.“IwasinamuseumtheotherdayobservingsomeantiquitiesfromBabylonoroneofthoseplaces,thousandsofyearsold—andamongthemwerecosmeticboxes.Theheartofwomandoesnotchange.”
“Begyourpardon,sir?”saidAnnie.
“Itisnothing,”saidPoirot.“Ireflect.Youshallhaveyourvanitybox,child.”
“Ohthankyou,sir.Ohthankyouverymuchindeed,sir.”
Anniedepartedecstatically.Poirotlookedafterher,noddinghisheadinsatisfaction.
“Ah,”hesaidtohimself.“Andnow—Igo.Thereisnothingmoretobedonehere.”
Apairofarmsslippedroundhisshouldersunexpectedly.
“Ifyouwillstandjustunderthemistletoe—”saidBridget.
HerculePoirotenjoyedit.Heenjoyeditverymuch.HesaidtohimselfthathehadhadaverygoodChristmas.
Theoriginalversionofthisstory,“ChristmasAdventure,”canbefoundinthevolumeWhiletheLightLastsandOtherStories.Four
THEDRESSMAKER’SDOLL
“TheDressmaker’sDoll”wasfirstpublishedinWoman’sJournal,December1958.
Thedolllayinthebigvelvet-coveredchair.Therewasnotmuchlightintheroom;theLondonskiesweredark.Inthegentle,greyish-greengloom,thesage-greencoveringsandthecurtainsandtherugsallblendedwitheachother.Thedollblended,too.Shelaylongandlimpandsprawledinhergreen-velvetclothesandhervelvetcapandthepaintedmaskofherface.ShewasthePuppetDoll,thewhimofRichWomen,thedollwholollsbesidethetelephone,oramongthecushionsofthedivan.Shesprawledthere,eternallylimpandyetstrangelyalive.Shelookedadecadentproductofthetwentiethcentury.
SybilFox,hurryinginwithsomepatternsandasketch,lookedatthedollwithafaintfeelingofsurpriseandbewilderment.Shewondered—butwhatevershewondereddidnotgettothefrontofhermind.Instead,shethoughttoherself,“Now,what’shappenedtothepatternofthebluevelvet?WhereverhaveIputit?I’msureIhaditherejustnow.”Shewentoutonthelandingandcalleduptotheworkroom.
“Elspeth,Elspeth,haveyouthebluepatternupthere?Mrs.Fellows-Brownwillbehereanyminutenow.”
Shewentinagain,switchingonthelights.Againsheglancedatthedoll.“Nowwhereonearth—ah,thereitis.”Shepickedthepatternupfromwhereithadfallenfromherhand.TherewastheusualcreakoutsideonthelandingastheelevatorcametoahaltandinaminuteortwoMrs.Fellows-Brown,accompaniedbyherPekinese,camepuffingintotheroomratherlikeafussylocaltrainarrivingatawaysidestation.
“It’sgoingtopour,”shesaid,“simplypour!”
Shethrewoffherglovesandafur.AliciaCoombecamein.Shedidn’talwayscomeinnowadays,onlywhenspecialcustomersarrived,andMrs.Fellows-Brownwassuchacustomer.
Elspeth,theforewomanoftheworkroom,camedownwiththefrockandSybilpulleditoverMrs.Fellows-Brown’shead.
“There,”shesaid,“Ithinkit’sgood.Yes,it’sdefinitelyasuccess.”
Mrs.Fellows-Brownturnedsidewaysandlookedinthemirror.
“Imustsay,”shesaid,“yourclothesdodosomethingtomybehind.”
“You’remuchthinnerthanyouwerethreemonthsago,”Sybilassuredher.
“I’mreallynot,”saidMrs.Fellows-Brown,“thoughImustsayIlookitinthis.There’ssomethingaboutthewayyoucut,itreallydoesminimizemybehind.IalmostlookasthoughIhadn’tgotone—Imeanonlytheusualkindthatmostpeoplehave.”Shesighedandgingerlysmoothedthetroublesomeportionofheranatomy.“It’salwaysbeenabitofatrialtome,”shesaid.“Ofcourse,foryearsIcouldpullitin,youknow,bystickingoutmyfront.Well,Ican’tdothatanylongerbecauseI’vegotastomachnowaswellasabehind.AndImean—well,youcan’tpullitinbothways,canyou?”
AliciaCoombesaid,“Youshouldseesomeofmycustomers!”
Mrs.Fellows-Brownexperimentedtoandfro.
“Astomachisworsethanabehind,”shesaid.“Itshowsmore.Orperhapsyouthinkitdoes,because,Imean,whenyou’retalkingtopeopleyou’refacingthemandthat’sthemomenttheycan’tseeyourbehindbuttheycannoticeyourstomach.Anyway,I’vemadeitaruletopullinmystomachandletmybehindlookafteritself.”Shecranedherneckroundstillfarther,thensaidsuddenly,“Oh,thatdollofyours!Shegivesmethecreeps.Howlonghaveyouhadher?”
SybilglanceduncertainlyatAliciaCoombe,wholookedpuzzledbutvaguelydistressed.
“Idon’tknowexactly…sometimeIthink—Inevercanrememberthings.It’sawfulnowadays—Isimplycannotremember.Sybil,howlonghavewehadher?”
Sybilsaidshortly,“Idon’tknow.”
“Well,”saidMrs.Fellows-Brown,“shegivesmethecreeps.Uncanny!Shelooks,youknow,asthoughshewaswatchingusall,andperhapslaughinginthatvelvetsleeveofhers.I’dgetridofherifIwereyou.”Shegavealittleshiver,thensheplungedoncemoreintodressmakingdetails.Shouldsheorshouldshenothavethesleevesaninchshorter?Andwhataboutthelength?Whenalltheseimportantpointsweresettledsatisfactorily,Mrs.Fellows-Brownresumedherowngarmentsandpreparedtoleave.Asshepassedthedoll,sheturnedherheadagain.
“No,”shesaid,“Idon’tlikethatdoll.Shelookstoomuchasthoughshebelongedhere.Itisn’thealthy.”
“Nowwhatdidshemeanbythat?”demandedSybil,asMrs.Fellows-Browndeparteddownthestairs.
BeforeAliciaCoombecouldanswer,Mrs.Fellows-Brownreturned,pokingherheadroundthedoor.
“Goodgracious,IforgotallaboutFou-Ling.Whereareyou,ducksie?Well,Inever!”
Shestaredandtheothertwowomenstared,too.ThePekinesewassittingbythegreen-velvetchair,staringupatthelimpdollsprawledonit.Therewasnoexpression,eitherofpleasureorresentment,onhissmall,pop-eyedface.Hewasmerelylooking.
“Comealong,mum’sdarling,”saidMrs.Fellows-Brown.
Mum’sdarlingpaidnoattentionwhatever.
“Hegetsmoredisobedienteveryday,”saidMrs.Fellows-Brown,withtheairofonecataloguingavirtue.“Comeon,Fou-Ling.Dindins.Lufflyliver.”
Fou-Lingturnedhisheadaboutaninchandahalftowardshismistress,thenwithdisdainresumedhisappraisalofthedoll.
“She’scertainlymadeanimpressiononhim,”saidMrs.Fellows-Brown.“Idon’tthinkhe’severnoticedherbefore.Ihaven’teither.WassheherelasttimeIcame?”
Theothertwowomenlookedateachother.Sybilnowhadafrownonherface,andAliciaCoombesaid,wrinklingupherforehead,“Itoldyou—Isimplycan’trememberanythingnowadays.Howlonghavewehadher,Sybil?”
“Wheredidshecomefrom?”demandedMrs.Fellows-Brown.“Didyoubuyher?”
“Ohno.”SomehowAliciaCoombewasshockedattheidea.“Ohno.Isuppose—Isupposesomeonegavehertome.”Sheshookherhead.“Maddening!”sheexclaimed.“Absolutelymaddening,wheneverythinggoesoutofyourheadtheverymomentafterit’shappened.”
“Nowdon’tbestupid,Fou-Ling,”saidMrs.Fellows-Brownsharply.“Comeon.I’llhavetopickyouup.”
Shepickedhimup.Fou-Lingutteredashortbarkofagonizedprotest.TheywentoutoftheroomwithFou-Ling’spop-eyedfaceturnedoverhisfluffyshoulder,stillstaringwithenormousattentionatthedollonthechair….
“Thattheredoll,”saidMrs.Groves,“fairgivesmethecreeps,itdoes.”
Mrs.Groveswasthecleaner.Shehadjustfinishedacrablikeprogressbackwardsalongthefloor.Nowshewasstandingupandworkingslowlyroundtheroomwithaduster.
“Funnything,”saidMrs.Groves,“nevernoticeditreallyuntilyesterday.Andthenithitmeallofasudden,asyoumightsay.”
“Youdon’tlikeit?”askedSybil.
“Itellyou,Mrs.Fox,itgivesmethecreeps,”saidthecleaningwoman.“Itain’tnatural,ifyouknowwhatImean.Allthoselonghanginglegsandthewayshe’ssloucheddownthereandthecunninglookshehasinhereye.Itdoesn’tlookhealthy,that’swhatIsay.”
“You’veneversaidanythingaboutherbefore,”saidSybil.
“Itellyou,Inevernoticedher—nottillthismorning…OfcourseIknowshe’sbeenheresometimebut—”Shestoppedandapuzzledexpressionflittedacrossherface.“Sortofthingyoumightdreamofatnight,”shesaid,andgatheringupvariouscleaningimplementsshedepartedfromthefittingroomandwalkedacrossthelandingtotheroomontheotherside.
Sybilstaredattherelaxeddoll.Anexpressionofbewildermentwasgrowingonherface.AliciaCoombeenteredandSybilturnedsharply.
“MissCoombe,howlonghaveyouhadthiscreature?”
“What,thedoll?Mydear,youknowIcan’trememberthings.Yesterday—why,it’stoosilly!—IwasgoingouttothatlectureandIhadn’tgonehalfwaydownthestreetwhenIsuddenlyfoundIcouldn’trememberwhereIwasgoing.IthoughtandIthought.FinallyItoldmyselfitmustbeFortnums.IknewtherewassomethingIwantedtogetatFortnums.Well,youwon’tbelieveme,itwasn’ttillIactuallygothomeandwashavingsometeathatIrememberedaboutthelecture.Ofcourse,I’vealwaysheardthatpeoplegogagaastheygetoninlife,butit’shappeningtomemuchtoofast.I’veforgottennowwhereI’veputmyhandbag—andmyspectacles,too.WheredidIputthosespectacles?Ihadthemjustnow—IwasreadingsomethinginTheTimes.”
“Thespectaclesareonthemantelpiecehere,”saidSybil,handingthemtoher.“Howdidyougetthedoll?Whogavehertoyou?”
“That’sablank,too,”saidAliciaCoombe.“Somebodygavehertomeorsenthertome,Isuppose…However,shedoesseemtomatchtheroomverywell,doesn’tshe?”
“Rathertoowell,Ithink,”saidSybil.“Funnythingis,Ican’trememberwhenIfirstnoticedherhere.”
“Nowdon’tyougetthesamewayasIam,”AliciaCoombeadmonishedher.“Afterall,you’reyoungstill.”
“Butreally,MissCoombe,Idon’tremember.Imean,Ilookedatheryesterdayandthoughttherewassomething—well,Mrs.Grovesisquiteright—somethingcreepyabouther.AndthenIthoughtI’dalreadythoughtso,andthenItriedtorememberwhenIfirstthoughtso,and—well,Ijustcouldn’trememberanything!Inaway,itwasasifI’dneverseenherbefore—onlyitdidn’tfeellikethat.Itfeltasthoughshe’dbeenherealongtimebutI’donlyjustnoticedher.”
“Perhapssheflewinthroughthewindowonedayonabroomstick,”saidAliciaCoombe.“Anyway,shebelongsherenowallright.”Shelookedround.“Youcouldhardlyimaginetheroomwithouther,couldyou?”
“No,”saidSybil,withaslightshiver,“butIratherwishIcould.”
“Couldwhat?”
“Imaginetheroomwithouther.”
“Areweallgoingbarmyaboutthisdoll?”demandedAliciaCoombeimpatiently.“What’swrongwiththepoorthing?Lookslikeadecayedcabbagetome,butperhaps,”sheadded,“that’sbecauseIhaven’tgotspectacleson.”Sheputthemonhernoseandlookedfirmlyatthedoll.“Yes,”shesaid,“Iseewhatyoumean.Sheisalittlecreepy…Sadlookingbut—well,slyandratherdetermined,too.”
“Funny,”saidSybil,“Mrs.Fellows-Browntakingsuchaviolentdisliketoher.”
“She’sonewhonevermindsspeakinghermind,”saidAliciaCoombe.
“Butit’sodd,”persistedSybil,“thatthisdollshouldmakesuchanimpressiononher.”
“Well,peopledotakedislikesverysuddenlysometimes.”
“Perhaps,”saidSybilwithalittlelaugh,“thatdollneverwashereuntilyesterday…Perhapsshejust—flewinthroughthewindow,asyousay,andsettledherselfhere.”
“No,”saidAliciaCoombe,“I’msureshe’sbeenheresometime.Perhapssheonlybecamevisibleyesterday.”
“That’swhatIfeel,too,”saidSybil,“thatshe’sbeenheresometime…butallthesameIdon’trememberreallyseeinghertillyesterday.”
“Now,dear,”saidAliciaCoombebriskly,“dostopit.You’remakingmefeelquitepeculiarwithshiversrunningupanddownmyspine.You’renotgoingtoworkupagreatdealofsupernaturalhoo-hahaboutthatcreature,areyou?”Shepickedupthedoll,shookitout,rearrangeditsshoulders,andsatitdownagainonanotherchair.Immediatelythedollfloppedslightlyandrelaxed
“It’snotabitlifelike,”saidAliciaCoombe,staringatthedoll.“Andyet,inafunnyway,shedoesseemalive,doesn’tshe?”
“Oo,itdidgivemeaturn,”saidMrs.Groves,asshewentroundtheshowroom,dusting.“SuchaturnasIhardlyliketogointothefittingroomanymore.”
“What’sgivenyouaturn?”demandedMissCoombewhowassittingatawritingtableinthecorner,busywithvariousaccounts.“Thiswoman,”sheaddedmoreforherownbenefitthanthatofMrs.Groves,“thinksshecanhavetwoeveningdresses,threecocktaildresses,andasuiteveryyearwithouteverpayingmeapennyforthem!Really,somepeople!”
“It’sthatdoll,”saidMrs.Groves.
“What,ourdollagain?”
“Yes,sittingupthereatthedesk,likeahuman.Oo,itdidn’thalfgivemeaturn!”
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
AliciaCoombegotup,strodeacrosstheroom,acrossthelandingoutside,andintotheroomopposite—thefittingroom.TherewasasmallSheratondeskinonecornerofit,andthere,sittinginachairdrawnuptoit,herlongfloppyarmsonthedesk,satthedoll.
“Sombodyseemstohavebeenhavingfun,”saidAliciaCoombe.“Fancysittingheruplikethat.Really,shelooksquitenatural.”
SybilFoxcamedownthestairsatthismoment,carryingadressthatwastobetriedonthatmorning.
“Comehere,Sybil.Lookatourdollsittingatmyprivatedeskandwritinglettersnow.”
Thetwowomenlooked.
“Really,”saidAliciaCoombe,“it’stooridiculous!Iwonderwhoproppedherupthere.Didyou?”
“No,Ididn’t,”saidSybil.“Itmusthavebeenoneofthegirlsfromupstairs.”
“Asillysortofjoke,really,”saidAliciaCoombe.Shepickedupthedollfromthedeskandthrewherbackonthesofa.
Sybillaidthedressoverachaircarefully,thenshewentoutandupthestairstotheworkroom.
“Youknowthedoll,”shesaid,“thevelvetdollinMissCoombe’sroomdownstairs—inthefittingroom?”
Theforewomanandthreegirlslookedup
“Yes,miss,ofcourseweknow.”
“Whosatherupatthedeskthismorningforajoke?”
Thethreegirlslookedather,thenElspeth,theforewoman,said,“Satherupatthedesk?Ididn’t.”
“NordidI,”saidoneofthegirls.“Didyou,Marlene?”Marleneshookherhead.
“Thisyourbitoffun,Elspeth?”
“No,indeed,”saidElspeth,asternwomanwholookedasthoughhermouthshouldalwaysbefilledwithpins.“I’vemoretodothangoingaboutplayingwithdollsandsittingthemupatdesks.”
“Lookhere,”saidSybil,andtohersurprisehervoiceshookslightly.“Itwas—itwasquiteagoodjoke,onlyI’djustliketoknowwhodidit.”
Thethreegirlsbristled.
“We’vetoldyou,Mrs.Fox.Noneofusdidit,didwe,Marlene?”
“Ididn’t,”saidMarlene,“andifNellieandMargaretsaytheydidn’t,wellthen,noneofusdid.”
“You’veheardwhatIhadtosay,”saidElspeth.“What’sthisallaboutanyway,Mrs.Fox?”
“PerhapsitwasMrs.Groves?”saidMarlene.
Sybilshookherhead.“Itwouldn’tbeMrs.Groves.Itgaveherquiteaturn.”
“I’llcomedownandseeformyself,”saidElspeth.
“She’snottherenow,”saidSybil.“MissCoombetookherawayfromthedeskandthrewherbackonthesofa.Well—”shepaused—“whatImeanis,someonemusthavestuckherupthereinthechairatthewritingdesk—thinkingitwasfunny.Isuppose.And—andIdon’tseewhytheywon’tsayso.”
“I’vetoldyoutwice,Mrs.Fox,”saidMargaret.“Idon’tseewhyyoushouldgoonaccusingusoftellinglies.Noneofuswoulddoasillythinglikethat.”
“I’msorry,”saidSybil,“Ididn’tmeantoupsetyou.But—butwhoelsecouldpossiblyhavedoneit?”
“Perhapsshegotupandwalkedthereherself,”saidMarlene,andgiggled.
ForsomereasonSybildidn’tlikethesuggestion.
“Oh,it’sallalotofnonsense,anyway,”shesaid,andwentdownthestairsagain.
AliciaCoombewashummingquitecheerfully.Shelookedroundtheroom.
“I’velostmyspectaclesagain,”shesaid,“butitdoesn’treallymatter.Idon’twanttoseeanythingthismoment.Thetroubleis,ofcourse,whenyou’reasblindasIam,thatwhenyouhavelostyourspectacles,unlessyou’vegotanotherpairtoputonandfindthemwith,well,thenyoucan’tfindthembecauseyoucan’tseetofindthem.”
“I’lllookroundforyou,”saidSybil.“Youhadthemjustnow.”
“Iwentintotheotherroomwhenyouwentupstairs.IexpectItookthembackinthere.”
Shewentacrosstotheotherroom.
“It’ssuchabother,”saidAliciaCoombe.“Iwanttogetonwiththeseaccounts.HowcanIifIhaven’tmyspectacles?”
“I’llgoupandgetyoursecondpairfromthebedroom,”saidSybil.
“Ihaven’tasecondpairatpresent,”saidAliciaCoombe.
“Why,what’shappenedtothem?”
“Well,IthinkIleftthemyesterdaywhenIwasoutatlunch.I’verungupthere,andI’verungupthetwoshopsIwentinto,too.”
“Oh,dear,”saidSybil,“you’llhavetogetthreepairs,Isuppose.”
“IfIhadthreepairsofspectacles,”saidAliciaCoombe,“Ishouldspendmywholelifelookingforoneortheotherofthem.Ireallythinkit’sbesttohaveonlyone.Thenyou’vegottolooktillyoufindit.”
“Well,theymustbesomewhere,”saidSybil.“Youhaven’tbeenoutofthesetworooms.They’recertainlynothere,soyoumusthavelaidthemdowninthefittingroom.”
Shewentback,walkinground,lookingquiteclosely.Finally,asalastidea,shetookupthedollfromthesofa.
“I’vegotthem,”shecalled.
“Oh,wherewerethey,Sybil?”
“Underourpreciousdoll.Isupposeyoumusthavethrownthemdownwhenyouputherbackonthesofa.”
“Ididn’t.I’msureIdidn’t.”
“Oh,”saidSybilwithexasperation.“ThenIsupposethedolltookthemandwashidingthemfromyou!”
“Really,youknow,”saidAlicia,lookingthoughtfullyatthedoll,“Iwouldn’tputitpasther.Shelooksveryintelligent,don’tyouthink,Sybil?”
“Idon’tthinkIlikeherface,”saidSybil.“Shelooksasthoughsheknewsomethingthatwedidn’t.”
“Youdon’tthinkshelookssortofsadandsweet?”saidAliciaCoombepleadingly,butwithoutconviction.
“Idon’tthinkshe’sintheleastsweet,”saidSybil.
“No…perhapsyou’reright…Oh,well,let’sgetonwiththings.LadyLeewillbehereinanothertenminutes.Ijustwanttogettheseinvoicesdoneandposted.”
“Mrs.Fox.Mrs.Fox?”
“Yes,Margaret?”saidSybil.“Whatisit?”
Sybilwasbusyleaningoveratable,cuttingapieceofsatinmaterial.
“Oh,Mrs.Fox,it’sthatdollagain.Itookdownthebrowndresslikeyousaid,andthere’sthatdollsittingupatthedeskagain.Anditwasn’tme—itwasn’tanyofus.Please,Mrs.Fox,wereallywouldn’tdosuchathing.”
Sybil’sscissorsslidalittle.
“There,”shesaidangrily,“lookwhatyou’vemademedo.Oh,well,it’llbeallright,Isuppose.Now,what’sthisaboutthedoll?”
“She’ssittingatthedeskagain.”
Sybilwentdownandwalkedintothefittingroom.Thedollwassittingatthedeskexactlyasshehadsattherebefore.
“You’reverydetermined,aren’tyou?”saidSybil,speakingtothedoll.
Shepickedherupunceremoniouslyandputherbackonthesofa.
“That’syourplace,mygirl,”shesaid.“Youstaythere.”
Shewalkedacrosstotheotherroom.
“MissCoombe.”
“Yes,Sybil?”
“Somebodyishavingagamewithus,youknow.Thatdollwassittingatthedeskagain.”
“Whodoyouthinkitis?”
“Itmustbeoneofthosethreeupstairs,”saidSybil.“Thinksit’sfunny,Isuppose.Ofcoursetheyallsweartohighheavenitwasn’tthem.”
“Whodoyouthinkitis—Margaret?”
“No,Idon’tthinkit’sMargaret.Shelookedquitequeerwhenshecameinandtoldme.Iexpectit’sthatgigglingMarlene.”
“Anyway,it’saverysillythingtodo.”
“Ofcourseitis—idiotic,”saidSybil.“However,”sheaddedgrimly,“I’mgoingtoputastoptoit.”
“Whatareyougoingtodo?”
“You’llsee,”saidSybil.
Thatnightwhensheleft,shelockedthefittingroomfromtheoutside.
“I’mlockingthisdoor,”shesaid,“andI’mtakingthekeywithme.”
“Oh,Isee,”saidAliciaCoombe,withafaintairofamusement.“You’rebeginningtothinkit’sme,areyou?YouthinkI’msoabsentmindedthatIgointhereandthinkI’llwriteatthedesk,butinsteadIpickthedollupandputhertheretowriteforme.Isthattheidea?AndthenIforgetallaboutit?”
“Well,it’sapossibility,”Sybiladmitted.“Anyway,I’mgoingtobequitesurethatnosillypracticaljokeisplayedtonight.”
Thefollowingmorning,herlipssetgrimly,thefirstthingSybildidonarrivalwastounlockthedoorofthefittingroomandmarchin.Mrs.Groves,withanaggrievedexpressionandmopanddusterinhand,hadbeenwaitingonthelanding.
“Nowwe’llsee!”saidSybil.
Thenshedrewbackwithaslightgasp.
Thedollwassittingatthedesk.
“Cool!”saidMrs.Grovesbehindher.“It’suncanny!That’swhatitis.Oh,there,Mrs.Fox,youlookquitepale,asthoughyou’vecomeoverqueer.Youneedalittledropofsomething.HasMissCoombegotadropupstairs,doyouknow?”
“I’mquiteallright,”saidSybil.
Shewalkedovertothedoll,liftedhercarefully,andcrossedtheroomwithher.
“Somebody’sbeenplayingatrickonyouagain,”saidMrs.Groves.
“Idon’tseehowtheycouldhaveplayedatrickonmethistime,”saidSybilslowly.“Ilockedthatdoorlastnight.Youknowyourselfthatnoonecouldgetin.”
“Somebody’sgotanotherkey,maybe,”saidMrs.Groveshelpfully.
“Idon’tthinkso,”saidSybil.“We’veneverbotheredtolockthisdoorbefore.It’soneofthoseold-fashionedkeysandthere’sonlyoneofthem.”
“Perhapstheotherkeyfitsit—theonetothedooropposite.”
Induecoursetheytriedallthekeysintheshop,butnonefittedthedoorofthefittingroom.
“Itisodd,MissCoombe,”saidSybillater,astheywerehavinglunchtogether.
AliciaCoombewaslookingratherpleased.
“Mydear,”shesaid.“Ithinkit’ssimplyextraordinary.Ithinkweoughttowritetothepsychicalresearchpeopleaboutit.Youknow,theymightsendaninvestigator—amediumorsomeone—toseeifthere’sanythingpeculiarabouttheroom.”
“Youdon’tseemtomindatall,”saidSybil.
“Well,Iratherenjoyitinaway,”saidAliciaCoombe.“Imean,atmyage,it’sratherfunwhenthingshappen!Allthesame—no,”sheaddedthoughtfully.“Idon’tthinkIdoquitelikeit.Imean,thatdoll’sgettingratheraboveherself,isn’tshe?”
OnthateveningSybilandAliciaCoombelockedthedooroncemoreontheoutside.
“Istillthink,”saidSybil,“thatsomebodymightbeplayingapracticaljoke,though,really,Idon’tseewhy….”
“Doyouthinkshe’llbeatthedeskagaintomorrowmorning?”demandedAlicia.
“Yes,”saidSybil,“Ido.”
Buttheywerewrong.Thedollwasnotatthedesk.Instead,shewasonthewindowsill,lookingoutintothestreet.Andagaintherewasanextraordinarynaturalnessaboutherposition.
“It’sallfrightfullysilly,isn’tit?”saidAliciaCoombe,astheyweresnatchingaquickcupofteathatafternoon.Bycommonconsenttheywerenothavingitinthefittingroom,astheyusuallydid,butinAliciaCoombe’sownroomopposite.
“Sillyinwhatway?”
“Well,Imean,there’snothingyoucangetholdof.Justadollthat’salwaysinadifferentplace.”
Asdayfolloweddayitseemedamoreandmoreaptobservation.Itwasnotonlyatnightthatthedollnowmoved.Atanymomentwhentheycameintothefittingroom,aftertheyhadbeenabsentevenafewminutes,theymightfindthedollinadifferentplace.Theycouldhaveleftheronthesofaandfindheronachair.Thenshe’dbeonadifferentchair.Sometimesshe’dbeinthewindowseat,sometimesatthedeskagain.
“Shejustmovesaboutasshelikes,”saidAliciaCoombe.“AndIthink,Sybil,Ithinkit’samusingher.”
Thetwowomenstoodlookingdownattheinertsprawlingfigureinitslimp,softvelvet,withitspaintedsilkface.
“Someoldbitsofvelvetandsilkandalickofpaint,that’sallitis,”saidAliciaCoombe.Hervoicewasstrained.“Isuppose,youknow,wecould—er—wecoulddisposeofher.”
“Whatdoyoumean,disposeofher?”askedSybil.Hervoicesoundedalmostshocked.
“Well,”saidAliciaCoombe,“wecouldputherinthefire,iftherewasafire.Burnher,Imean,likeawitch…Orofcourse,”sheaddedmatter-of-factly,“wecouldjustputherinthedustbin.”
“Idon’tthinkthatwoulddo,”saidSybil.“Somebodywouldprobablytakeheroutofthedustbinandbringherbacktous.”
“Orwecouldsendhersomewhere,”saidAliciaCoombe.“Youknow,tooneofthosesocietieswhoarealwayswritingandaskingforsomething—forasaleorabazaar.Ithinkthat’sthebestidea.”
“Idon’tknow…”saidSybil.“I’dbealmostafraidtodothat.”
“Afraid?”
“Well,Ithinkshe’dcomeback,”saidSybil.
“Youmean,she’dcomebackhere?”
“Yes.”
“Likeahomingpigeon?”
“Yes,that’swhatImean.”
“Isupposewe’renotgoingoffourheads,arewe?”saidAliciaCoombe.“PerhapsI’vereallygonegagaandperhapsyou’rejusthumouringme,isthatit?”
“No,”saidSybil.“ButI’vegotanastyfrighteningfeeling—ahorridfeelingthatshe’stoostrongforus.”
“What?Thatmessofrags?”
“Yes,thathorriblelimpmessofrags.Because,yousee,she’ssodetermined.”
“Determined?”
“Tohaveherownway!Imean,thisisherroomnow!”
“Yes,”saidAliciaCoombe,lookinground,“itis,isn’tit?Ofcourse,italwayswas,whenyoucometothinkofit—thecoloursandeverything…Ithoughtshefittedinhere,butit’stheroomthatfitsher.Imustsay,”addedthedressmaker,withatouchofbrisknessinhervoice,“it’sratherabsurdwhenadollcomesandtakespossessionofthingslikethis.Youknow,Mrs.Groveswon’tcomeinhereanylongerandclean.”
“Doesshesayshe’sfrightenedofthedoll?”
“No.Shejustmakesexcusesofsomekindorother.”ThenAliciaaddedwithahintofpanic,“Whatarewegoingtodo,Sybil?It’sgettingmedown,youknow.Ihaven’tbeenabletodesignanythingforweeks.”
“Ican’tkeepmymindoncuttingoutproperly,”Sybilconfessed.“Imakeallsortsofsillymistakes.Perhaps,”shesaiduncertainly,yourideaofwritingtothepsychicalresearchpeoplemightdosomegood.”
“Justmakeuslooklikeacoupleoffools,”saidAliciaCoombe.“Ididn’tseriouslymeanit.No,Isupposewe’lljusthavetogoonuntil—”
“Untilwhat?”
“Oh,Idon’tknow,”saidAlicia,andshelaugheduncertainly.
OnthefollowingdaySybil,whenshearrived,foundthedoorofthefittingroomlocked.
“MissCoombe,haveyougotthekey?Didyoulockthislastnight?”
“Yes,”saidAliciaCoombe,“Ilockeditandit’sgoingtostaylocked.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“IjustmeanI’vegivenuptheroom.Thedollcanhaveit.Wedon’tneedtworooms.Wecanfitinhere.”
“Butit’syourownprivatesittingroom.”
“Well,Idon’twantitanymore.I’vegotaverynicebedroom.Icanmakeabed-sittingroomoutofthat,can’tI?”
“Doyoumeanyou’rereallynotgoingintothatfittingroomeveragain?”saidSybilincredulously.
“That’sexactlywhatImean.”
“But—whataboutcleaning?It’llgetinaterriblestate.”
“Letit!”saidAliciaCoombe.“Ifthisplaceissufferingfromsomekindofpossessionbyadoll,allright—letherkeeppossession.Andcleantheroomherself.”Andsheadded,“Shehatesus,youknow.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”saidSybil.“Thedollhatesus?”
“Yes,”saidAlicia.“Didn’tyouknow?Youmusthaveknown.Youmusthaveseenitwhenyoulookedather.”
“Yes,”saidSybilthoughtfully,“IsupposeIdid.IsupposeIfeltthatallalong—thatshehatedusandwantedtogetusoutofthere.”
“She’samaliciouslittlething,”saidAliciaCoombe.“Anyway,sheoughttobesatisfiednow.”
Thingswentonrathermorepeacefullyafterthat.AliciaCoombeannouncedtoherstaffthatshewasgivinguptheuseofthefittingroomforthepresent—itmadetoomanyroomstodustandclean,sheexplained.
Butithardlyhelpedhertooverhearoneoftheworkgirlssayingtoanotherontheeveningofthesameday,“Shereallyisbatty,MissCoombeisnow.Ialwaysthoughtshewasabitqueer—thewayshelostthingsandforgotthings.Butit’sreallybeyondanythingnow,isn’tit?She’sgotasortofthingaboutthatdolldownstairs.”
“Ooo,youdon’tthinkshe’llgoreallybats,doyou?”saidtheothergirl.“Thatshemightknifeusorsomething?”
Theypassed,chattering,andAliciasatupindignantlyinherchair.Goingbatsindeed!Thensheaddedruefully,toherself,“Isuppose,ifitwasn’tforSybil,IshouldthinkmyselfthatIwasgoingbats.ButwithmeandSybilandMrs.Grovestoo,well,itdoeslookasthoughtherewassomethinginit.ButwhatIdon’tseeis,howisitgoingtoend?”
Threeweekslater,SybilsaidtoAliciaCoombe,“We’vegottogointothatroomsometimes.”
“Why?”
“Well,Imean,itmustbeinafilthystate.Mothswillbegettingintothings,andallthat.Weoughtjusttodustandsweepitandthenlockitupagain.”
“I’dmuchratherkeepitshutupandnotgobackinthere,”saidAliciaCoombe.
Sybilsaid,“Really,youknow,you’reevenmoresuperstitiousthanIam.”
“IsupposeIam,”saidAliciaCoombe.“Iwasmuchmorereadytobelieveinallthisthanyouwere,buttobeginwith,youknow—I—well,Ifounditexcitinginanoddsortofway.Idon’tknow.I’mjustscared,andI’drathernotgointothatroomagain.”
“Well,Iwantto,”saidSybil,“andI’mgoingto.”
“Youknowwhat’sthematterwithyou?”saidAliciaCoombe.“You’resimplycurious,that’sall.”
“Allright,thenI’mcurious.Iwanttoseewhatthedoll’sdone.”
“Istillthinkit’smuchbettertoleaveheralone,”saidAlicia.“Nowwe’vegotoutofthatroom,she’ssatisfied.You’dbetterleavehersatisfied.”Shegaveanexasperatedsigh.“Whatnonsensewearetalking!”
“Yes.Iknowwe’retalkingnonsense,butifyoutellmeofanywayofnottalkingnonsense—comeon,now,givemethekey.”
“Allright,allright.”
“Ibelieveyou’reafraidI’llletheroutorsomething.Ishouldthinkshewasthekindthatcouldpassthroughdoorsorwindows.”
Sybilunlockedthedoorandwentin.
“Howterriblyodd,”shesaid.
“What’sodd?”saidAliciaCoombe,peeringoverhershoulder.
“Theroomhardlyseemsdustyatall,doesit?You’dthink,afterbeingshutupallthistime—”
“Yes,itisodd.”
“Theresheis,”saidSybil.
Thedollwasonthesofa.Shewasnotlyinginherusuallimpposition.Shewassittingupright,acushionbehindherback.Shehadtheairofthemistressofthehouse,waitingtoreceivepeople
“Well,”saidAliciaCoombe,“sheseemsathomeallright,doesn’tshe?IalmostfeelIoughttoapologizeforcomingin.”
“Let’sgo,”saidSybil.
Shebackedout;pullingthedoorto,andlockeditagain.
Thetwowomengazedateachother.
“IwishIknew,”saidAliciaCoombe,“whyitscaresussomuch….”
“Mygoodness,whowouldn’tbescared?”
“Well,Imean,whathappens,afterall?It’snothingreally—justakindofpuppetthatgetsmovedaroundtheroom.Iexpectitisn’tthepuppetitself—it’sapoltergeist.”
“Nowthatisagoodidea.”
“Yes,butIdon’treallybelieveit.Ithinkit’s—it’sthatdoll.”
“Areyousureyoudon’tknowwhereshereallycamefrom?”
“Ihaven’tthefaintestidea,”saidAlicia.“AndthemoreIthinkofitthemoreI’mperfectlycertainthatIdidn’tbuyher,andthatnobodygavehertome.Ithinkshe—well,shejustcame.”
“Doyouthinkshe’ll—evergo?”
“Really,”saidAlicia,“Idon’tseewhysheshould…She’sgotallshewants.”
Butitseemedthatthedollhadnotgotallshewanted.Thenextday,whenSybilwentintotheshowroom,shedrewinherbreathwithasuddengasp.Thenshecalledupthestairs.
“MissCoombe,MissCoombe,comedownhere.”
“What’sthematter?”
AliciaCoombe,whohadgotuplate,camedownthestairs,hobblingalittleprecariouslyforshehadrheumatisminherrightknee.
“Whatisthematterwithyou,Sybil?”
“Look.Lookwhat’shappenednow.”
Theystoodinthedoorwayoftheshowroom.Sittingonasofa,sprawledeasilyoverthearmofit,wasthedoll.
“She’sgotout,”saidSybil,“She’sgotoutofthatroom!Shewantsthisroomaswell.”
AliciaCoombesatdownbythedoor.“Intheend,”shesaid,“Isupposeshe’llwantthewholeshop.”
“Shemight,”saidSybil.
“Younasty,sly,maliciousbrute,”saidAlicia,addressingthedoll.“Whydoyouwanttocomeandpesterusso?Wedon’twantyou.”
Itseemedtoher,andtoSybiltoo,thatthedollmovedveryslightly.Itwasasthoughitslimbsrelaxedstillfurther.Alonglimparmwaslyingonthearmofthesofaandthehalf-hiddenfacelookedasifitwerepeeringfromunderthearm.Anditwasasly,maliciouslook.
“Horriblecreature,”saidAlicia.“Ican’tbearit!Ican’tbearitanylonger.”
Suddenly,takingSybilcompletelybysurprise,shedashedacrosstheroom,pickedupthedoll,rantothewindow,openedit,andflungthedolloutintothestreet.TherewasagaspandahalfcryoffearfromSybil.
“Oh,Alicia,youshouldn’thavedonethat!I’msureyoushouldn’thavedonethat!”
“Ihadtodosomething,”saidAliciaCoombe.“Ijustcouldn’tstanditanymore.”
Sybiljoinedheratthewindow.Downbelowonthepavementthedolllay,looselimbed,facedown.
“You’vekilledher,”saidSybil.
“Don’tbeabsurd…HowcanIkillsomethingthat’smadeofvelvetandsilk,bitsandpieces.It’snotreal.”
“It’shorriblyreal,”saidSybil.
Aliciacaughtherbreath.
“Goodheavens.Thatchild—”
Asmallraggedgirlwasstandingoverthedollonthepavement.Shelookedupanddownthestreet—astreetthatwasnotundulycrowdedatthistimeofthemorningthoughtherewassomeautomobiletraffic;then,asthoughsatisfied,thechildbent,pickedupthedoll,andranacrossthestreet.
“Stop,stop!”calledAlicia.
SheturnedtoSybil.
“Thatchildmustn’ttakethedoll.Shemustn’t!Thatdollisdangerous—it’sevil.We’vegottostopher.”
Itwasnottheywhostoppedher.Itwasthetraffic.Atthatmomentthreetaxiscamedownonewayandtwotradesmen’svansintheotherdirection.Thechildwasmaroonedonanislandinthemiddleoftheroad.Sybilrusheddownthestairs,AliciaCoombefollowingher.Dodgingbetweenatradesman’svanandaprivatecar,Sybil,withAliciaCoombedirectlybehindher,arrivedontheislandbeforethechildcouldgetthroughthetrafficontheoppositeside.
“Youcan’ttakethatdoll,”saidAliciaCoombe.“Giveherbacktome.”
Thechildlookedather.Shewasaskinnylittlegirlabouteightyearsold,withaslightsquint.Herfacewasdefiant.
“WhyshouldIgive’ertoyou?”shesaid.“Pitchedheroutofthewindow,youdid—Isawyou.Ifyoupushedheroutofthewindowyoudon’twanther,sonowshe’smine.”
“I’llbuyyouanotherdoll,”saidAliciafrantically.“We’llgotoatoyshop—anywhereyoulike—andI’llbuyyouthebestdollwecanfind.Butgivemebackthisone.”
“Shan’t,”saidthechild.
Herarmswentprotectinglyroundthevelvetdoll.
“Youmustgiveherback,”saidSybil.“Sheisn’tyours.”
Shestretchedouttotakethedollfromthechildandatthatmomentthechildstampedherfoot,turned,andscreamedatthem.
“Shan’t!Shan’t!Shan’t!She’smyveryown.Iloveher.Youdon’tloveher.Youhateher.Ifyoudidn’thateheryouwouldn’thavepushedheroutofthewindow.Iloveher,Itellyou,andthat’swhatshewants.Shewantstobeloved.”
Andthenlikeaneel,slidingthroughthevehicles,thechildranacrossthestreet,downanalleyway,andoutofsightbeforethetwoolderwomencoulddecidetododgethecarsandfollow.
“She’sgone,”saidAlicia.
“Shesaidthedollwantedtobeloved,”saidSybil.
“Perhaps,”saidAlicia,“perhapsthat’swhatshewantedallalong…tobeloved….”
InthemiddleoftheLondontrafficthetwofrightenedwomenstaredateachother.
Five
GREENSHAW’SFOLLY
Thetwomenroundedthecorneroftheshrubbery.
“Well,thereyouare,”saidRaymondWest.“That’sit.”
HoraceBindlertookadeep,appreciativebreath.
“Butmydear,”hecried,“howwonderful.”Hisvoiceroseinahighscreechof’stheticdelight,thendeepenedinreverentawe.“It’sunbelievable.Outofthisworld!Aperiodpieceofthebest.”
“Ithoughtyou’dlikeit,”saidRaymondWest,complacently.
“Likeit?Mydear—”WordsfailedHorace.Heunbuckledthestrapofhiscameraandgotbusy.“Thiswillbeoneofthegemsofmycollection,”hesaidhappily.“Idothink,don’tyou,thatit’sratheramusingtohaveacollectionofmonstrosities?Theideacametomeonenightsevenyearsagoinmybath.MylastrealgemwasintheCampoSantoatGenoa,butIreallythinkthisbeatsit.What’sitcalled?”
“Ihaven’ttheleastidea,”saidRaymond.
“Isupposeit’sgotaname?”
“Itmusthave.Butthefactisthatit’sneverreferredtoroundhereasanythingbutGreenshaw’sFolly.”
“Greenshawbeingthemanwhobuiltit?”
“Yes.Ineighteen-sixtyorseventyorthereabouts.Thelocalsuccessstoryofthetime.Barefootboywhohadrisentoimmenseprosperity.Localopinionisdividedastowhyhebuiltthishouse,whetheritwassheerexuberanceofwealthorwhetheritwasdonetoimpresshiscreditors.Ifthelatter,itdidn’timpressthem.Heeitherwentbankruptorthenextthingtoit.Hencethename,Greenshaw’sFolly.”
Horace’scameraclicked.“There,”hesaidinasatisfiedvoice.“RemindmetoshowyouNo.310inmycollection.AreallyincrediblemarblemantelpieceintheItalianmanner.”Headded,lookingatthehouse,“Ican’tconceiveofhowMr.Greenshawthoughtofitall.”
“Ratherobviousinsomeways,”saidRaymond.“HehadvisitedthechateauxoftheLoire,don’tyouthink?Thoseturrets.Andthen,ratherunfortunately,heseemstohavetravelledintheOrient.TheinfluenceoftheTajMahalisunmistakable.IratherliketheMoorishwing,”headded,“andthetracesofaVenetianpalace.”
“Onewondershowheevergotholdofanarchitecttocarryouttheseideas.”
Raymondshruggedhisshoulders.
“Nodifficultyaboutthat,Iexpect,”hesaid.“ProbablythearchitectretiredwithagoodincomeforlifewhilepooroldGreenshawwentbankrupt.”
“Couldwelookatitfromtheotherside?”askedHorace,“orarewetrespassing!”
“We’retrespassingallright,”saidRaymond,“butIdon’tthinkitwillmatter.”
HeturnedtowardsthecornerofthehouseandHoraceskippedafterhim.
“Butwholiveshere,mydear?Orphansorholidayvisitors?Itcan’tbeaschool.Noplayingfieldsorbriskefficiency.”
“Oh,aGreenshawlivesherestill,”saidRaymondoverhisshoulder.“Thehouseitselfdidn’tgointhecrash.OldGreenshaw’ssoninheritedit.Hewasabitofamiserandlivedhereinacornerofit.Neverspentapenny.Probablyneverhadapennytospend.Hisdaughterlivesherenow.Oldlady—veryeccentric.”
AshespokeRaymondwascongratulatinghimselfonhavingthoughtofGreenshaw’sFollyasameansofentertaininghisguest.Theseliterarycriticsalwaysprofessedthemselvesaslongingforaweekendinthecountry,andwerewonttofindthecountryextremelyboringwhentheygotthere.TomorrowtherewouldbetheSundaypapers,andfortodayRaymondWestcongratulatedhimselfonsuggestingavisittoGreenshaw’sFollytoenrichHoraceBindler’swell-knowncollectionofmonstrosities.
Theyturnedthecornerofthehouseandcameoutonaneglectedlawn.Inonecornerofitwasalargeartificialrockery,andbendingoveritwasafigureatsightofwhichHoraceclutchedRaymonddelightedlybythearm.
“Mydear,”heexclaimed,“doyouseewhatshe’sgoton?Aspriggedprintdress.Justlikeahousemaid—whentherewerehousemaids.OneofmymostcherishedmemoriesisstayingatahouseinthecountrywhenIwasquiteaboywherearealhousemaidcalledyouinthemorning,allcracklinginaprintdressandacap.Yes,myboy,really—acap.Muslinwithstreamers.No,perhapsitwastheparlourmaidwhohadthestreamers.Butanywayshewasarealhousemaidandshebroughtinanenormousbrasscanofhotwater.Whatanexcitingdaywe’rehaving.”
Thefigureintheprintdresshadstraightenedupandhadturnedtowardsthem,trowelinhand.Shewasasufficientlystartlingfigure.Unkemptlocksofiron-greyfellwispilyonhershoulders,astrawhatratherlikethehatsthathorseswearinItalywascrammeddownonherhead.Thecolouredprintdresssheworefellnearlytoherankles.Outofaweather-beaten,not-too-cleanface,shrewdeyessurveyedthemappraisingly.
“Imustapologizefortrespassing,MissGreenshaw,”saidRaymondWest,asheadvancedtowardsher,“butMr.HoraceBindlerwhoisstayingwithme—”
Horacebowedandremovedhishat.
“—ismostinterestedin—er—ancienthistoryand—er—finebuildings.”
RaymondWestspokewiththeeaseofawell-knownauthorwhoknowsthatheisacelebrity,thathecanventurewhereotherpeoplemaynot.
MissGreenshawlookedupatthesprawlingexuberancebehindher.
“Itisafinehouse,”shesaidappreciatively.“Mygrandfatherbuiltit—beforemytime,ofcourse.Heisreportedashavingsaidthathewishedtoastonishthenatives.”
“I’llsayhedidthat,ma’am,”saidHoraceBindler.
“Mr.Bindleristhewell-knownliterarycritic,”saidRaymondWest.
MissGreenshawhadclearlynoreverenceforliterarycritics.Sheremainedunimpressed.
“Iconsiderit,”saidMissGreenshaw,referringtothehouse,“asamonumenttomygrandfather’sgenius.Sillyfoolscomehere,andaskmewhyIdon’tsellitandgoandliveinaflat.WhatwouldIdoinaflat?It’smyhomeandIliveinit,”saidMissGreenshaw.“Alwayshavelivedhere.”Sheconsidered,broodingoverthepast.“Therewerethreeofus.Lauramarriedthecurate.Papawouldn’tgiveheranymoney,saidclergymenoughttobeunworldly.Shedied,havingababy.Babydiedtoo.Nettieranawaywiththeridingmaster.Papacutheroutofhiswill,ofcourse.Handsomefellow,HarryFletcher,butnogood.Don’tthinkNettiewashappywithhim.Anyway,shedidn’tlivelong.Theyhadason.Hewritestomesometimes,butofcourseheisn’taGreenshaw.I’mthelastoftheGreenshaws.”Shedrewupherbentshoulderswithacertainpride,andreadjustedtherakishangleofthestrawhat.Then,turning,shesaidsharply,
“Yes,Mrs.Cresswell,whatisit?”
Approachingthemfromthehousewasafigurethat,seensidebysidewithMissGreenshaw,seemedludicrouslydissimilar.Mrs.Cresswellhadamarvellouslydressedheadofwell-bluedhairtoweringupwardsinmeticulouslyarrangedcurlsandrolls.ItwasasthoughshehaddressedherheadtogoasaFrenchmarquisetoafancy-dressparty.Therestofhermiddle-agedpersonwasdressedinwhatoughttohavebeenrustlingblacksilkbutwasactuallyoneoftheshiniervarietiesofblackrayon.Althoughshewasnotalargewoman,shehadawell-developedandsumptuousbust.Hervoicewhenshespoke,wasunexpectedlydeep.Shespokewithexquisitediction,onlyaslighthesitationoverwordsbeginningwith“h”andthefinalpronunciationofthemwithanexaggeratedaspirategaverisetoasuspicionthatatsomeremoteperiodinheryouthshemighthavehadtroubleoverdroppingherh’s
“Thefish,madam,”saidMrs.Cresswell,“thesliceofcod.Ithasnotarrived.IhaveaskedAlfredtogodownforitandherefusestodoso.”
Ratherunexpectedly,MissGreenshawgaveacackleoflaughter.
“Refuses,doeshe?”
“Alfred,madam,hasbeenmostdisobliging.”
MissGreenshawraisedtwoearth-stainedfingerstoherlips,suddenlyproducedanearsplittingwhistleandatthesametimeyelled:
“Alfred.Alfred,comehere.”
Roundthecornerofthehouseayoungmanappearedinanswertothesummons,carryingaspadeinhishand.Hehadabold,handsomefaceandashedrewnearhecastanunmistakablymalevolentglancetowardsMrs.Cresswell.
“Youwantedme,miss?”hesaid.
“Yes,Alfred.Ihearyou’verefusedtogodownforthefish.Whataboutit,eh?”
Alfredspokeinasurlyvoice.
“I’llgodownforitifyouwantsit,miss.You’veonlygottosay.”
“Idowantit.Iwantitformysupper.”
“Rightyouare,miss.I’llgorightaway.”
HethrewaninsolentglanceatMrs.Cresswell,whoflushedandmurmuredbelowherbreath:
“Really!It’sunsupportable.”
“NowthatIthinkofit,”saidMissGreenshaw,“acoupleofstrangevisitorsarejustwhatweneedaren’tthey,Mrs.Cresswell?”
Mrs.Cresswelllookedpuzzled.
“I’msorry,madam—”
“Foryou-know-what,”saidMissGreenshaw,noddingherhead.“Beneficiarytoawillmustn’twitnessit.That’sright,isn’tit?”SheappealedtoRaymondWest.
“Quitecorrect,”saidRaymond.
“Iknowenoughlawtoknowthat,”saidMissGreenshaw.“Andyoutwoaremenofstanding.”
Sheflungdownhertrowelonherweedingbasket.
“Wouldyoumindcominguptothelibrarywithme?”
“Delighted,”saidHoraceeagerly.
Sheledthewaythroughfrenchwindowsandthroughavastyellowandgolddrawingroomwithfadedbrocadeonthewallsanddustcoversarrangedoverthefurniture,thenthroughalargedimhall,upastaircaseandintoaroomonthefirstfloor.
“Mygrandfather’slibrary,”sheannounced.
Horacelookedroundtheroomwithacutepleasure.Itwasaroom,fromhispointofview,quitefullofmonstrosities.Theheadsofsphinxesappearedonthemostunlikelypiecesoffurniture,therewasacolossalbronzerepresenting,hethought,PaulandVirginia,andavastbronzeclockwithclassicalmotifsofwhichhelongedtotakeaphotograph.
“Afinelotofbooks,”saidMissGreenshaw.
Raymondwasalreadylookingatthebooks.Fromwhathecouldseefromacursoryglancetherewasnobookhereofanyrealinterestor,indeed,anybookwhichappearedtohavebeenread.Theywereallsuperblyboundsetsoftheclassicsassuppliedninetyyearsagoforfurnishingagentleman’slibrary.Somenovelsofabygoneperiodwereincluded.Buttheytooshowedlittlesignsofhavingbeenread.
MissGreenshawwasfumblinginthedrawersofavastdesk.Finallyshepulledoutaparchmentdocument.
“Mywill,”sheexplained.“Gottoleaveyourmoneytosomeone—orsotheysay.IfIdiedwithoutawillIsupposethatsonofahorse-coperwouldgetit.Handsomefellow,HarryFletcher,butarogueifthereeverwasone.Don’tseewhyhissonshouldinheritthisplace.No,”shewenton,asthoughansweringsomeunspokenobjection,“I’vemadeupmymind.I’mleavingittoCresswell.”
“Yourhousekeeper?”
“Yes.I’veexplainedittoher.ImakeawillleavingherallI’vegotandthenIdon’tneedtopayheranywages.Savesmealotincurrentexpenses,anditkeepsheruptothemark.Nogivingmenoticeandwalkingoffatanyminute.Veryla-di-dahandallthat,isn’tshe?Butherfatherwasaworkingplumberinaverysmallway.She’snothingtogiveherselfairsabout.”
Shehadbynowunfoldedtheparchment.Pickingupapenshedippeditintheinkstandandwrotehersignature,KatherineDorothyGreenshaw.
“That’sright,”shesaid.“You’veseenmesignit,andthenyoutwosignit,andthatmakesitlegal.”
ShehandedthepentoRaymondWest.Hehesitatedamoment,feelinganunexpectedrepulsiontowhathewasaskedtodo.Thenhequicklyscrawledthewell-knownsignature,forwhichhismorning’smailusuallybroughtatleastsixdemandsaday.
Horacetookthepenfromhimandaddedhisownminutesignature.
“That’sdone,”saidMissGreenshaw.
Shemovedacrosstothebookcaseandstoodlookingatthemuncertainly,thensheopenedaglassdoor,tookoutabookandslippedthefoldedparchmentinside.
“I’vemyownplacesforkeepingthings,”shesaid.
“LadyAudley’sSecret,”RaymondWestremarked,catchingsightofthetitleasshereplacedthebook.
MissGreenshawgaveanothercackleoflaughter.
“Bestsellerinitsday,”sheremarked.“Notlikeyourbooks,eh?”
ShegaveRaymondasuddenfriendlynudgeintheribs.Raymondwasrathersurprisedthatsheevenknewhewrotebooks.AlthoughRaymondWestwasquiteanameinliterature,hecouldhardlybedescribedasabestseller.Thoughsofteningalittlewiththeadventofmiddleage,hisbooksdealtbleaklywiththesordidsideoflife.
“Iwonder,”Horacedemandedbreathlessly,“ifImightjusttakeaphotographoftheclock?”
“Byallmeans,”saidMissGreenshaw.“Itcame,Ibelieve,fromtheParisexhibition.”
“Veryprobably,”saidHorace.Hetookhispicture.
“Thisroom’snotbeenusedmuchsincemygrandfather’stime,”saidMissGreenshaw.“Thisdesk’sfullofolddiariesofhis.Interesting,Ishouldthink.Ihaven’ttheeyesighttoreadthemmyself.I’dliketogetthempublished,butIsupposeonewouldhavetoworkonthemagooddeal.”
“Youcouldengagesomeonetodothat,”saidRaymondWest.
“CouldIreally?It’sanidea,youknow.I’llthinkaboutit.”
RaymondWestglancedathiswatch.
“Wemustn’ttrespassonyourkindnessanylonger,”hesaid.
“Pleasedtohaveseenyou,”saidMissGreenshawgraciously.“ThoughtyouwerethepolicemanwhenIheardyoucomingroundthecornerofthehouse.”
“Whyapoliceman?”demandedHorace,whonevermindedaskingquestions.
MissGreenshawrespondedunexpectedly.
“Ifyouwanttoknowthetime,askapoliceman,”shecarolled,andwiththisexampleofVictorianwit,nudgedHoraceintheribsandroaredwithlaughter.
“It’sbeenawonderfulafternoon,”sighedHoraceastheywalkedhome.“Really,thatplacehaseverything.Theonlythingthelibraryneedsisabody.Thoseold-fashioneddetectivestoriesaboutmurderinthelibrary—that’sjustthekindoflibraryI’msuretheauthorshadinmind.”
“Ifyouwanttodiscussmurder,”saidRaymond,“youmusttalktomyAuntJane.”
“YourAuntJane?DoyoumeanMissMarple?”Hefeltalittleataloss.
Thecharmingold-worldladytowhomhehadbeenintroducedthenightbeforeseemedthelastpersontobementionedinconnectionwithmurder.
“Oh,yes,”saidRaymond.“Murderisaspecialtyofhers.”
“Butmydear,howintriguing.Whatdoyoureallymean?”
“Imeanjustthat,”saidRaymond.Heparaphrased:“Somecommitmurder,somegetmixed-upinmurders,othershavemurderthrustuponthem.MyAuntJanecomesintothethirdcategory.”
“Youarejoking.”
“Notintheleast.IcanreferyoutotheformerCommissionerofScotlandYard,severalChiefConstablesandoneortwohard-workinginspectorsoftheCID.”
Horacesaidhappilythatwonderswouldnevercease.OvertheteatabletheygaveJoanWest,Raymond’swife,LouOxleyherniece,andoldMissMarple,arésuméoftheafternoon’shappenings,recountingindetaileverythingthatMissGreenshawhadsaidtothem.
“ButIdothink,”saidHorace,“thatthereissomethingalittlesinisteraboutthewholesetup.Thatduchesslikecreature,thehousekeeper—arsenic,perhaps,intheteapot,nowthatsheknowshermistresshasmadethewillinherfavour?”
“Tellus,AuntJane,”saidRaymond.“Willtherebemurderorwon’tthere?Whatdoyouthink?”
“Ithink,”saidMissMarple,windingupherwoolwitharathersevereair,“thatyoushouldn’tjokeaboutthesethingsasmuchasyoudo,Raymond.Arsenicis,ofcourse,quiteapossibility.Soeasytoobtain.Probablypresentinthetoolshedalreadyintheformofweedkiller.”
“Oh,really,darling,”saidJoanWest,affectionately.“Wouldn’tthatberathertooobvious?”
“It’sallverywelltomakeawill,”saidRaymond,“Idon’tsupposereallythepooroldthinghasanythingtoleaveexceptthatawfulwhiteelephantofahouse,andwhowouldwantthat?”
“Afilmcompanypossibly,”saidHorace,“orahoteloraninstitution?”
“They’dexpecttobuyitforasong,”saidRaymond,butMissMarplewasshakingherhead.
“Youknow,dearRaymond,Icannotagreewithyouthere.Aboutthemoney,Imean.Thegrandfatherwasevidentlyoneofthoselavishspenderswhomakemoneyeasily,butcan’tkeepit.Hemayhavegonebroke,asyousay,buthardlybankruptorelsehissonwouldnothavehadthehouse.Nowtheson,asissooftenthecase,wasanentirelydifferentcharactertohisfather.Amiser.Amanwhosavedeverypenny.Ishouldsaythatinthecourseofhislifetimeheprobablyputbyaverygoodsum.ThisMissGreenshawappearstohavetakenafterhim,todislikespendingmoney,thatis.Yes,Ishouldthinkitquitelikelythatshehadquiteagoodsumtuckedaway.”
“Inthatcase,”saidJoanWest,“Iwondernow—whataboutLou?”
TheylookedatLouasshesat,silent,bythefire.
LouwasJoanWest’sniece.Hermarriagehadrecently,assheherselfputit,comeunstuck,leavingherwithtwoyoungchildrenandabaresufficiencyofmoneytokeepthemon.
“Imean,”saidJoan,“ifthisMissGreenshawreallywantssomeonetogothroughdiariesandgetabookreadyforpublication….”
“It’sanidea,”saidRaymond.
Lousaidinalowvoice:
“It’sworkIcoulddo—andI’denjoyit.”
“I’llwritetoher,”saidRaymond.
“Iwonder,”saidMissMarplethoughtfully,“whattheoldladymeantbythatremarkaboutapoliceman?”
“Oh,itwasjustajoke.”
“Itremindedme,”saidMissMarple,noddingherheadvigorously,“yes,itremindedmeverymuchofMr.Naysmith.”
“WhowasMr.Naysmith?”askedRaymond,curiously.
“Hekeptbees,”saidMissMarple,“andwasverygoodatdoingtheacrosticsintheSundaypapers.Andhelikedgivingpeoplefalseimpressionsjustforfun.Butsometimesitledtotrouble.”
Everybodywassilentforamoment,consideringMr.Naysmith,butastheredidnotseemtobeanypointsofresemblancebetweenhimandMissGreenshaw,theydecidedthatdearAuntJanewasperhapsgettingalittlebitdisconnectedinheroldage.
HoraceBindlerwentbacktoLondonwithouthavingcollectedanymoremonstrositiesandRaymondWestwrotealettertoMissGreenshawtellingherthatheknewofaMrs.LouisaOxleywhowouldbecompetenttoundertakeworkonthediaries.Afteralapseofsomedays,aletterarrived,writteninspideryold-fashionedhandwriting,inwhichMissGreenshawdeclaredherselfanxioustoavailherselfoftheservicesofMrs.Oxley,andmakinganappointmentforMrs.Oxleytocomeandseeher.
Loudulykepttheappointment,generoustermswerearrangedandshestartedworkonthefollowingday.
“I’mawfullygratefultoyou,”shesaidtoRaymond.“Itwillfitinbeautifully.Icantakethechildrentoschool,goontoGreenshaw’sFollyandpickthemuponmywayback.Howfantasticthewholesetupis!Thatoldwomanhastobeseentobebelieved.”
Ontheeveningofherfirstdayatworkshereturnedanddescribedherday.
“I’vehardlyseenthehousekeeper,”shesaid.“Shecameinwithcoffeeandbiscuitsathalfpastelevenwithhermouthpursedupveryprunesandprisms,andwouldhardlyspeaktome.Ithinkshedisapprovesdeeplyofmyhavingbeenengaged.”Shewenton,“Itseemsthere’squiteafeudbetweenherandthegardener,Alfred.He’salocalboyandfairlylazy,Ishouldimagine,andheandthehousekeeperwon’tspeaktoeachother.MissGreenshawsaidinherrathergrandway,‘TherehavealwaysbeenfeudsasfarasIcanrememberbetweenthegardenandthehousestaff.Itwassoinmygrandfather’stime.Therewerethreemenandaboyinthegardenthen,andeightmaidsinthehouse,buttherewasalwaysfriction.’”
OnthefollowingdayLoureturnedwithanotherpieceofnews.
“Justfancy,”shesaid,“Iwasaskedtoringupthenephewthismorning.”
“MissGreenshaw’snephew?”
“Yes.Itseemshe’sanactorplayinginthecompanythat’sdoingasummerseasonatBorehamonSea.Irangupthetheatreandleftamessageaskinghimtolunchtomorrow.Ratherfun,really.Theoldgirldidn’twantthehousekeepertoknow.IthinkMrs.Cresswellhasdonesomethingthat’sannoyedher.”
“Tomorrowanotherinstalmentofthisthrillingserial,”murmuredRaymond.
“It’sexactlylikeaserial,isn’tit?Reconciliationwiththenephew,bloodisthickerthanwater—anotherwilltobemadeandtheoldwilldestroyed.”
“AuntJane,you’relookingveryserious.”
“WasI,mydear?Haveyouheardanymoreaboutthepoliceman?”
Loulookedbewildered.“Idon’tknowanythingaboutapoliceman.”
“Thatremarkofhers,mydear,”saidMissMarple,“musthavemeantsomething.”
Louarrivedatherworkthenextdayinacheerfulmood.Shepassedthroughtheopenfrontdoor—thedoorsandwindowsofthehousewerealwaysopen.MissGreenshawappearedtohavenofearofburglars,andwasprobablyjustified,asmostthingsinthehouseweighedseveraltonsandwereofnomarketablevalue.
LouhadpassedAlfredinthedrive.Whenshefirstcaughtsightofhimhehadbeenleaningagainstatreesmokingacigarette,butassoonashehadcaughtsightofherhehadseizedabroomandbegundiligentlytosweepleaves.Anidleyoungman,shethought,butgood-looking.Hisfeaturesremindedherofsomeone.AsshepassedthroughthehallonherwayupstairstothelibrarysheglancedatthelargepictureofNathanielGreenshawwhichpresidedoverthemantelpiece,showinghimintheacmeofVictorianprosperity,leaningbackinalargearmchair,hishandsrestingonthegoldalbertacrosshiscapaciousstomach.Asherglancesweptupfromthestomachtothefacewithitsheavyjowls,itsbushyeyebrowsanditsflourishingblackmoustache,thethoughtoccurredtoherthatNathanielGreenshawmusthavebeenhandsomeasayoungman.Hehadlooked,perhaps,alittlelikeAlfred.
Shewentintothelibrary,shutthedoorbehindher,openedhertypewriterandgotoutthediariesfromthedraweratthesideofthedesk.ThroughtheopenwindowshecaughtaglimpseofMissGreenshawinapuce-colouredspriggedprint,bendingovertherockery,weedingassiduously.Theyhadhadtwowetdays,ofwhichtheweedshadtakenfulladvantage.
Lou,atown-bredgirl,decidedthatifsheeverhadagardenitwouldnevercontainarockerywhichneededhandweeding.Thenshesettleddowntoherwork.
WhenMrs.Cresswellenteredthelibrarywiththecoffeetrayathalfpasteleven,shewasclearlyinaverybadtemper.Shebangedthetraydownonthetable,andobservedtotheuniverse.
“Companyforlunch—andnothinginthehouse!WhatamIsupposedtodo,Ishouldliketoknow?AndnosignofAlfred.”
“HewassweepinginthedrivewhenIgothere,”Louoffered.
“Idaresay.Anicesoftjob.”
Mrs.Cresswellsweptoutoftheroomandbangedthedoorbehindher.Lougrinnedtoherself.Shewonderedwhat“thenephew”wouldbelike.
Shefinishedhercoffeeandsettleddowntoherworkagain.Itwassoabsorbingthattimepassedquickly.NathanielGreenshaw,whenhestartedtokeepadiary,hadsuccumbedtothepleasureoffrankness.Tryingoutapassagerelatingtothepersonalcharmofabarmaidintheneighbouringtown,Loureflectedthatagooddealofeditingwouldbenecessary.
Asshewasthinkingthis,shewasstartledbyascreamfromthegarden.Jumpingup,sherantotheopenwindow.MissGreenshawwasstaggeringawayfromtherockerytowardsthehouse.HerhandswereclaspedtoherbreastandbetweenthemthereprotrudedafeatheredshaftthatLourecognizedwithstupefactiontobetheshaftofanarrow.
MissGreenshaw’shead,initsbatteredstrawhat,fellforwardonherbreast.ShecalleduptoLouinafailingvoice:“…shot…heshotme…withanarrow…gethelp….”
Lourushedtothedoor.Sheturnedthehandle,butthedoorwouldnotopen.Ittookheramomentortwooffutileendeavourtorealizethatshewaslockedin.Sherushedbacktothewindow.
“I’mlockedin.”
MissGreenshaw,herbacktowardsLou,andswayingalittleonherfeetwascallinguptothehousekeeperatawindowfartheralong.
“Ringpolice…telephone….”
Then,lurchingfromsidetosidelikeadrunkardshedisappearedfromLou’sviewthroughthewindowbelowintothedrawingroom.AmomentlaterLouheardacrashofbrokenchina,aheavyfall,andthensilence.Herimaginationreconstructedthescene.MissGreenshawmusthavestaggeredblindlyintoasmalltablewithaSèvresteasetonit.
DesperatelyLoupoundedonthedoor,callingandshouting.Therewasnocreeperordrainpipeoutsidethewindowthatcouldhelphertogetoutthatway.
Tiredatlastofbeatingonthedoor,shereturnedtothewindow.Fromthewindowofhersittingroomfartheralong,thehousekeeper’sheadappeared.
“Comeandletmeout,Mrs.Oxley.I’mlockedin.”
“SoamI.”
“Ohdear,isn’titawful?I’vetelephonedthepolice.There’sanextensioninthisroom,butwhatIcan’tunderstand,Mrs.Oxley,isourbeinglockedin.Ineverheardakeyturn,didyou?”
“No.Ididn’thearanythingatall.Ohdear,whatshallwedo?PerhapsAlfredmighthearus.”Loushoutedatthetopofhervoice,“Alfred,Alfred.”
“Gonetohisdinneraslikelyasnot.Whattimeisit?”
Louglancedatherwatch.
“Twenty-fivepasttwelve.”
“He’snotsupposedtogountilhalfpast,buthesneaksoffearlierwheneverhecan.”
“Doyouthink—doyouthink—”
Loumeanttoask“Doyouthinkshe’sdead?”butthewordsstuckinherthroat.
Therewasnothingtodobutwait.Shesatdownonthewindowsill.Itseemedaneternitybeforethestolidhelmetedfigureofapoliceconstablecameroundthecornerofthehouse.Sheleantoutofthewindowandhelookedupather,shadinghiseyeswithhishand.Whenhespokehisvoiceheldreproof.
“What’sgoingonhere?”heaskeddisapprovingly.
Fromtheirrespectivewindows,LouandMrs.Cresswellpouredafloodofexcitedinformationdownonhim.
Theconstableproducedanotebookandpencil.“Youladiesranupstairsandlockedyourselvesin?CanIhaveyournames,please?”
“No.Somebodyelselockedusin.Comeandletusout.”
Theconstablesaidreprovingly,“Allingoodtime,”anddisappearedthroughthewindowbelow.
Onceagaintimeseemedinfinite.Louheardthesoundofacararriving,and,afterwhatseemedanhour,butwasactuallythreeminutes,firstMrs.CresswellandthenLou,werereleasedbyapolicesergeantmorealertthantheoriginalconstable.
“MissGreenshaw?”Lou’svoicefaltered.“What—what’shappened?”
Thesergeantclearedhisthroat.
“I’msorrytohavetotellyou,madam,”hesaid,“whatI’vealreadytoldMrs.Cresswellhere.MissGreenshawisdead.”
“Murdered,”saidMrs.Cresswell.“That’swhatitis—murder.”
Thesergeantsaiddubiously:
“Couldhavebeenanaccident—somecountryladsshootingwithbowsandarrows.”
Againtherewasthesoundofacararriving.Thesergeantsaid:
“That’llbetheMO,”andstarteddownstairs.
ButitwasnottheMO.AsLouandMrs.Cresswellcamedownthestairsayoungmansteppedhesitatinglythroughthefrontdoorandpaused,lookingroundhimwithasomewhatbewilderedair.
Then,speakinginapleasantvoicethatinsomewayseemedfamiliartoLou—perhapsithadafamilyresemblancetoMissGreenshaw’s—heasked:
“Excuseme,does—er—doesMissGreenshawlivehere?”
“MayIhaveyournameifyouplease,”saidthesergeantadvancinguponhim.
“Fletcher,”saidtheyoungman.“NatFletcher.I’mMissGreenshaw’snephew,asamatteroffact.”
“Indeed,sir,well—I’msorry—I’msure—”
“Hasanythinghappened?”askedNatFletcher.
“There’sbeenan—accident—yourauntwasshotwithanarrow—penetratedthejugularvein—”
Mrs.Cresswellspokehystericallyandwithoutherusualrefinement:
“Yourh’aunt’sbeenmurdered,that’swhat’s’appened.Yourh’aunt’sbeenmurdered.”
InspectorWelchdrewhischairalittlenearertothetableandlethisgazewanderfromonetotheotherofthefourpeopleintheroom.Itwastheeveningofthesameday.HehadcalledattheWests’housetotakeLouOxleyoncemoreoverherstatement.
“Youaresureoftheexactwords?Shot—heshotme—withanarrow—gethelp?”
Lounodded.
“Andthetime?”
“Ilookedatmywatchaminuteortwolater—itwasthentwelvetwenty-five.”
“Yourwatchkeepsgoodtime?”
“Ilookedattheclockaswell.”
TheinspectorturnedtoRaymondWest.
“Itappears,sir,thataboutaweekagoyouandaMr.HoraceBindlerwerewitnessestoMissGreenshaw’swill?”
Briefly,RaymondrecountedtheeventsoftheafternoonvisitthatheandHoraceBindlerhadpaidtoGreenshaw’sFolly.
“Thistestimonyofyoursmaybeimportant,”saidWelch.“MissGreenshawdistinctlytoldyou,didshe,thatherwillwasbeingmadeinfavourofMrs.Cresswell,thehousekeeper,thatshewasnotpayingMrs.CresswellanywagesinviewoftheexpectationsMrs.Cresswellhadofprofitingbyherdeath?”
“Thatiswhatshetoldme—yes.”
“WouldyousaythatMrs.Cresswellwasdefinitelyawareofthesefacts?”
“Ishouldsayundoubtedly.MissGreenshawmadeareferenceinmypresencetobeneficiariesnotbeingabletowitnessawillandMrs.Cresswellclearlyunderstoodwhatshemeantbyit.Moreover,MissGreenshawherselftoldmethatshehadcometothisarrangementwithMrs.Cresswell.”
“SoMrs.Cresswellhadreasontobelieveshewasaninterestedparty.Motive’sclearenoughinhercase,andIdaresayshe’dbeourchiefsuspectnowifitwasn’tforthefactthatshewassecurelylockedinherroomlikeMrs.Oxleyhere,andalsothatMissGreenshawdefinitelysaidamanshother—”
“Shedefinitelywaslockedinherroom?”
“Ohyes.SergeantCayleyletherout.It’sabigold-fashionedlockwithabigold-fashionedkey.Thekeywasinthelockandthere’snotachancethatitcouldhavebeenturnedfrominsideoranyhanky-pankyofthatkind.No,youcantakeitdefinitelythatMrs.Cresswellwaslockedinsidethatroomandcouldn’tgetout.AndtherewerenobowsandarrowsintheroomandMissGreenshawcouldn’tinanycasehavebeenshotfromawindow—theangleforbidsit—no,Mrs.Cresswell’soutofit.”
Hepausedandwenton:
“WouldyousaythatMissGreenshaw,inyouropinion,wasapracticaljoker?”
MissMarplelookedupsharplyfromhercorner.
“Sothewillwasn’tinMrs.Cresswell’sfavourafterall?”shesaid.
InspectorWelchlookedoveratherinarathersurprisedfashion.
“That’saverycleverguessofyours,madam,”hesaid.“No.Mrs.Cresswellisn’tnamedasbeneficiary.”
“JustlikeMr.Naysmith,”saidMissMarple,noddingherhead.“MissGreenshawtoldMrs.Cresswellshewasgoingtoleavehereverythingandsogotoutofpayingherwages;andthenshelefthermoneytosomebodyelse.Nodoubtshewasvastlypleasedwithherself.NowondershechortledwhensheputthewillawayinLadyAudley’sSecret.”
“ItwasluckyMrs.Oxleywasabletotellusaboutthewillandwhereitwasput,”saidtheinspector.“Wemighthavehadalonghuntforitotherwise.”
“AVictoriansenseofhumour,”murmuredRaymondWest.“Soshelefthermoneytohernephewafterall,”saidLou.
Theinspectorshookhishead.
“No,”hesaid,“shedidn’tleaveittoNatFletcher.Thestorygoesaroundhere—ofcourseI’mnewtotheplaceandIonlygetthegossipthat’ssecondhand—butitseemsthatintheolddaysbothMissGreenshawandhersisterweresetonthehandsomeyoungriddingmaster,andthesistergothim.No,shedidn’tleavethemoneytohernephew—”Hepaused,rubbinghischin,“SheleftittoAlfred,”hesaid.
“Alfred—thegardener?”Joanspokeinasurprisedvoice.
“Yes,Mrs.West.AlfredPollock.”
“Butwhy?”criedLou.
MissMarplecoughedandmurmured:
“Ishouldimagine,thoughperhapsIamwrong,thattheremayhavebeen—whatwemightcallfamilyreasons.”
“Youcouldcallthemthatinaway,”agreedtheinspector.“It’squitewell-knowninthevillage,itseems,thatThomasPollock,Alfred’sgrandfather,wasoneofoldMr.Greenshaw’sby-blows.”
“Ofcourse,”criedLou,“theresemblance!Isawitthismorning.”
SherememberedhowafterpassingAlfredshehadcomeintothehouseandlookedupatoldGreenshaw’sportrait.
“Idaresay,”saidMissMarple,“thatshethoughtAlfredPollockmighthaveaprideinthehouse,mightevenwanttoliveinit,whereashernephewwouldalmostcertainlyhavenouseforitwhateverandwouldsellitassoonashecouldpossiblydoso.He’sanactor,isn’the?Whatplayexactlyisheactinginatpresent?”
Trustanoldladytowanderfromthepoint,thoughtInspectorWelch,butherepliedcivilly:
“Ibelieve,madam,theyaredoingaseasonofJamesBarrie’splays.”
“Barrie,”saidMissMarplethoughtfully.
“WhatEveryWomanKnows,”saidInspectorWelch,andthenblushed.“Nameofaplay,”hesaidquickly.“I’mnotmuchofatheatregoermyself,”headded,“butthewifewentalongandsawitlastweek.Quitewelldone,shesaiditwas.”
“Barriewrotesomeverycharmingplays,”saidMissMarple,“thoughImustsaythatwhenIwentwithanoldfriendofmine,GeneralEasterly,toseeBarrie’sLittleMary—”sheshookherheadsadly,“—neitherofusknewwheretolook.”
Theinspector,unacquaintedwiththeplayLittleMarylookedcompletelyfogged.MissMarpleexplained:
“WhenIwasagirl,Inspector,nobodyevermentionedthewordstomach.”
Theinspectorlookedevenmoreatsea.MissMarplewasmurmuringtitlesunderherbreath.
“TheAdmirableCrichton.Veryclever.MaryRose—acharmingplay.Icried,Iremember.QualityStreetIdidn’tcareforsomuch.ThentherewasAKissforCinderella.Oh,ofcourse.”
InspectorWelchhadnotimetowasteontheatricaldiscussion.Hereturnedtothematterinhand.
“Thequestionis,”hesaid,“didAlfredPollockknowthattheoldladyhadmadeawillinhisfavour?Didshetellhim?”Headded:“Yousee—there’sanarcherycluboveratBorehamLovellandAlfredPollock’samember.He’saverygoodshotindeedwithabowandarrow.”
“Thenisn’tyourcasequiteclear?”askedRaymondWest.“Itwouldfitinwiththedoorsbeinglockedonthetwowomen—he’dknowjustwheretheywereinthehouse.”
Theinspectorlookedathim.Hespokewithdeepmelancholy.
“He’sgotanalibi,”saidtheinspector.
“Ialwaysthinkalibisaredefinitelysuspicious.”
“Maybe,sir,”saidInspectorWelch.“You’retalkingasawriter.”
“Idon’twritedetectivestories,”saidRaymondWest,horrifiedatthemereidea.
“Easyenoughtosaythatalibisaresuspicious,”wentonInspectorWelch,“butunfortunatelywe’vegottodealwithfacts.”
Hesighed.
“We’vegotthreegoodsuspects,”hesaid.“Threepeoplewho,asithappened,wereverycloseuponthesceneatthetime.Yettheoddthingisthatitlooksasthoughnoneofthethreecouldhavedoneit.ThehousekeeperI’vealreadydealtwith—thenephew,NatFletcher,atthemomentMissGreenshawwasshot,wasacoupleofmilesawayfillinguphiscaratagarageandaskinghisway—asforAlfredPollocksixpeoplewillswearthatheenteredtheDogandDuckattwentypasttwelveandwasthereforanhourhavinghisusualbreadandcheeseandbeer.”
“Deliberatelyestablishinganalibi,”saidRaymondWesthopefully.
“Maybe,”saidInspectorWelch,“butifso,hedidestablishit.”
Therewasalongsilence.ThenRaymondturnedhisheadtowhereMissMarplesatuprightandthoughtful.
“It’suptoyou,AuntJane,”hesaid.“Theinspector’sbaffled,thesergeant’sbaffled,I’mbaffled,Joan’sbaffled,Louisbaffled.Buttoyou,AuntJane,itiscrystalclear.AmIright?”
“Iwouldn’tsaythat,dear,”saidMissMarple,“notcrystalclear,andmurder,dearRaymond,isn’tagame.Idon’tsupposepoorMissGreenshawwantedtodie,anditwasaparticularlybrutalmurder.Verywell-plannedandquitecold-blooded.It’snotathingtomakejokesabout!”
“I’msorry,”saidRaymond,abashed.“I’mnotreallyascallousasIsound.Onetreatsathinglightlytotakeawayfromthe—well,thehorrorofit.”
“Thatis,Ibelieve,themoderntendency,”saidMissMarple,“Allthesewars,andhavingtojokeaboutfunerals.Yes,perhapsIwasthoughtlesswhenIsaidyouwerecallous.”
“Itisn’t,”saidJoan,“asthoughwe’dknownheratallwell.”
“Thatisverytrue,”saidMissMarple.“You,dearJoan,didnotknowheratall.Ididnotknowheratall.Raymondgatheredanimpressionofherfromoneafternoon’sconversation.Louknewherfortwodays.”
“Comenow,AuntJane,”saidRaymond,“tellusyourviews.Youdon’tmind,Inspector?”
“Notatall,”saidtheinspectorpolitely.
“Well,mydear,itwouldseemthatwehavethreepeoplewhohad,ormighthavethoughttheyhad,amotivetokilltheoldlady.Andthreequitesimplereasonswhynoneofthethreecouldhavedoneso.ThehousekeepercouldnothavedonesobecauseshewaslockedinherroomandbecauseMissGreenshawdefinitelystatedthatamanshother.ThegardenercouldnothavedoneitbecausehewasinsidetheDogandDuckatthetimethemurderwascommitted,thenephewcouldnothavedoneitbecausehewasstillsomedistanceawayinhiscaratthetimeofthemurder.”
“Veryclearlyput,madam,”saidtheinspector.
“Andsinceitseemsmostunlikelythatanyoutsidershouldhavedoneit,where,then,arewe?”
“That’swhattheinspectorwantstoknow,”saidRaymondWest.
“Onesooftenlooksatathingthewrongwayround,”saidMissMarpleapologetically.“Ifwecan’talterthemovementsorthepositionofthosethreepeople,thencouldn’tweperhapsalterthetimeofthemurder?”
“Youmeanthatbothmywatchandtheclockwerewrong?”askedLou.
“Nodear,”saidMissMarple,“Ididn’tmeanthatatall.Imeanthatthemurderdidn’toccurwhenyouthoughtitoccurred.”
“ButIsawit,”criedLou.
“Well,whatIhavebeenwondering,mydear,waswhetheryouweren’tmeanttoseeit.I’vebeenaskingmyself,youknow,whetherthatwasn’ttherealreasonwhyyouwereengagedforthisjob.”
“Whatdoyoumean,AuntJane?”
“Well,dear,itseemsodd.MissGreenshawdidnotlikespendingmoney,andyetsheengagedyouandagreedquitewillinglytothetermsyouasked.Itseemstomethatperhapsyouweremeanttobethereinthatlibraryonthefirstfloor,lookingoutofthewindowsothatyoucouldbethekeywitness—someonefromoutsideofirreproachablegoodfaith—tofixadefinitetimeandplaceforthemurder.”
“Butyoucan’tmean,”saidLou,incredulously,“thatMissGreenshawintendedtobemurdered.”
“WhatImean,dear,”saidMissMarple,“isthatyoudidn’treallyknowMissGreenshaw.There’snorealreason,isthere,whytheMissGreenshawyousawwhenyouwentuptothehouseshouldbethesameMissGreenshawthatRaymondsawafewdaysearlier?Oh,yes,Iknow,”shewenton,topreventLou’sreply,“shewaswearingthepeculiarold-fashionedprintdressandthestrangestrawhat,andhadunkempthair.ShecorrespondedexactlytothedescriptionRaymondgaveuslastweekend.Butthosetwowomen,youknow,weremuchofanageandheightandsize.Thehousekeeper,Imean,andMissGreenshaw.”
“Butthehousekeeperisfat!”Louexclaimed.“She’sgotanenormousbosom.”
MissMarplecoughed.
“Butmydear,surely,nowadaysIhaveseen—er—themmyselfinshopsmostindelicatelydisplayed.Itisveryeasyforanyonetohavea—abust—ofanysizeanddimension.”
“Whatareyoutryingtosay?”demandedRaymond.
“Iwasjustthinking,dear,thatduringthetwoorthreedaysLouwasworkingthere,onewomancouldhaveplayedthetwoparts.Yousaidyourself,Lou,thatyouhardlysawthehousekeeper,exceptfortheonemomentinthemorningwhenshebroughtyouinthetraywithcoffee.Oneseesthosecleverartistsonthestagecominginasdifferentcharacterswithonlyaminuteortwotospare,andIamsurethechangecouldhavebeeneffectedquiteeasily.Thatmarquisehead-dresscouldbejustawigslippedonandoff.”
“AuntJane!DoyoumeanthatMissGreenshawwasdeadbeforeIstartedworkthere?”
“Notdead.Keptunderdrugs,Ishouldsay.Averyeasyjobforanunscrupulouswomanlikethehousekeepertodo.Thenshemadethearrangementswithyouandgotyoutotelephonetothenephewtoaskhimtolunchatadefinitetime.TheonlypersonwhowouldhaveknownthatthisMissGreenshawwasnotMissGreenshawwouldhavebeenAlfred.Andifyouremember,thefirsttwodaysyouwereworkingthereitwaswet,andMissGreenshawstayedinthehouse.Alfrednevercameintothehousebecauseofhisfeudwiththehousekeeper.AndonthelastmorningAlfredwasinthedrive,whileMissGreenshawwasworkingontherockery—I’dliketohavealookatthatrockery.”
“DoyoumeanitwasMrs.CresswellwhokilledMissGreenshaw?”
“Ithinkthatafterbringingyouyourcoffee,thewomanlockedthedooronyouasshewentout,carriedtheunconsciousMissGreenshawdowntothedrawingroom,thenassumedher‘MissGreenshaw’disguiseandwentouttoworkontherockerywhereyoucouldseeherfromthewindow.Induecourseshescreamedandcamestaggeringtothehouseclutchinganarrowasthoughithadpenetratedherthroat.Shecalledforhelpandwascarefultosay“heshotme”soastoremovesuspicionfromthehousekeeper.Shealsocalleduptothehousekeeper’swindowasthoughshesawherthere.Then,onceinsidethedrawingroom,shethrewoveratablewithporcelainonit—andranquicklyupstairs,putonhermarquisewigandwasableafewmomentslatertoleanherheadoutofthewindowandtellyouthatshe,too,waslockedin.”
“Butshewaslockedin,”saidLou.
“Iknow.Thatiswherethepolicemancomesin.”
“Whatpoliceman?”
“Exactly—whatpoliceman?Iwonder,Inspector,ifyouwouldmindtellingmehowandwhenyouarrivedonthescene?”
Theinspectorlookedalittlepuzzled.
“Attwelvetwenty-ninewereceivedatelephonecallfromMrs.Cresswell,housekeepertoMissGreenshaw,statingthathermistresshadbeenshot.SergeantCayleyandmyselfwentoutthereatonceinacarandarrivedatthehouseattwelvethirty-five.WefoundMissGreenshawdeadandthetwoladieslockedintheirrooms.”
“So,yousee,mydear,”saidMissMarpletoLou.“Thepoliceconstableyousawwasn’tarealpoliceconstable.Youneverthoughtofhimagain—onedoesn’t—onejustacceptsonemoreuniformaspartofthelaw.”
“Butwho—why?”
“Astowho—well,iftheyareplayingAKissforCinderella,apolicemanistheprincipalcharacter.NatFletcherwouldonlyhavetohelphimselftothecostumehewearsonthestage.He’daskhiswayatagaragebeingcarefultocallattentiontothetime—twelvetwenty-five,thendriveonquickly,leavehiscarroundacorner,sliponhispoliceuniformanddohis‘act.’”
“Butwhy?—why?”
“Someonehadtolockthehousekeeper’sdoorontheoutside,andsomeonehadtodrivethearrowthroughMissGreenshaw’sthroat.Youcanstabanyonewithanarrowjustaswellasbyshootingit—butitneedsforce.”
“Youmeantheywerebothinit?”
“Ohyes,Ithinkso.Motherandsonaslikelyasnot.”
“ButMissGreenshaw’ssisterdiedlongago.”
“Yes,butI’venodoubtMr.Fletchermarriedagain.Hesoundsthesortofmanwhowould,andIthinkitpossiblethatthechilddiedtoo,andthatthissocallednephewwasthesecondwife’schild,andnotreallyarelationatall.Thewomangotapostashousekeeperandspiedouttheland.Thenhewroteashernephewandproposedtocalluponher—hemayhavemadesomejokingreferencetocominginhispoliceman’suniform—oraskedherovertoseetheplay.ButIthinkshesuspectedthetruthandrefusedtoseehim.Hewouldhavebeenherheirifshehaddiedwithoutmakingawill—butofcourseonceshehadmadeawillinthehousekeeper’sfavour(astheythought)thenitwasclearsailing.”
“Butwhyuseanarrow?”objectedJoan.“Soveryfar-fetched.”
“Notfar-fetchedatall,dear.Alfredbelongedtoanarcheryclub—Alfredwasmeanttotaketheblame.Thefactthathewasinthepubasearlyastwelvetwentywasmostunfortunatefromtheirpointofview.Healwaysleftalittlebeforehispropertimeandthatwouldhavebeenjustright—”sheshookherhead.“Itreallyseemsallwrong—morally,Imean,thatAlfred’slazinessshouldhavesavedhislife.”
Theinspectorclearedhisthroat.
“Well,madam,thesesuggestionsofyoursareveryinteresting.Ishallhave,ofcourse,toinvestigate—”
MissMarpleandRaymondWeststoodbytherockeryandlookeddownatthatgardeningbasketfullofdyingvegetation.
MissMarplemurmured:
“Alyssum,saxifrage,cytisus,thimblecampanula…Yes,that’salltheproofIneed.Whoeverwasweedinghereyesterdaymorningwasnogardener—shepulledupplantsaswellasweeds.SonowIknowI’mright.Thankyou,dearRaymond,forbringingmehere.Iwantedtoseetheplaceformyself.”
SheandRaymondbothlookedupattheoutrageouspileofGreenshaw’sFolly.
Acoughmadethemturn.Ahandsomeyoungmanwasalsolookingatthehouse.
“Plagueybigplace,”hesaid.“Toobigfornowadays—orsotheysay.Idunnoaboutthat.IfIwonafootballpoolandmadealotofmoney,that’sthekindofhouseI’dliketobuild.”
Hesmiledbashfullyatthem.
“ReckonIcansaysonow—thattherehousewasbuiltbymygreat-grandfather,”saidAlfredPollock.“Andafinehouseitis,foralltheycallitGreenshaw’sFolly!”
Six
THEDOUBLECLUE
“TheDoubleClue”wasfirstpublishedinTheSketch,5December1923.
Butaboveeverything—nopublicity,”saidMr.MarcusHardmanforperhapsthefourteenthtime.
Thewordpublicityoccurredthroughouthisconversationwiththeregularityofaleitmotif.Mr.Hardmanwasasmallman,delicatelyplump,withexquisitelymanicuredhandsandaplaintivetenorvoice.Inhisway,hewassomewhatofacelebrityandthefashionablelifewashisprofession.Hewasrich,butnotremarkablyso,andhespenthismoneyzealouslyinthepursuitofsocialpleasure.Hishobbywascollecting.Hehadthecollector’ssoul.Oldlace,oldfans,antiquejewellery—nothingcrudeormodernforMarcusHardman.
PoirotandI,obeyinganurgentsummons,hadarrivedtofindthelittlemanwrithinginanagonyofindecision.Underthecircumstances,tocallinthepolicewasabhorrenttohim.Ontheotherhand,nottocalltheminwastoacquiesceinthelossofsomeofthegemsofhiscollection.HehituponPoirotasacompromise.
“Myrubies,MonsieurPoirot,andtheemeraldnecklacesaidtohavebelongedtoCatherinede’Medici.Oh,theemeraldnecklace!”
“Ifyouwillrecounttomethecircumstancesoftheirdisappearance?”suggestedPoirotgently.
“Iamendeavouringtodoso.YesterdayafternoonIhadalittleteaparty—quiteaninformalaffair,somehalfadozenpeopleorso.Ihavegivenoneortwoofthemduringtheseason,andthoughperhapsIshouldnotsayso,theyhavebeenquiteasuccess.Somegoodmusic—Nacora,thepianist,andKatherineBird,theAustraliancontralto—inthebigstudio.Well,earlyintheafternoon,Iwasshowingmyguestsmycollectionofmedievaljewels.Ikeeptheminthesmallwallsafeoverthere.Itisarrangedlikeacabinetinside,withcolouredvelvetbackground,todisplaythestones.Afterwardsweinspectedthefans—inthecaseonthewall.Thenweallwenttothestudioformusic.ItwasnotuntilaftereveryonehadgonethatIdiscoveredthesaferifled!Imusthavefailedtoshutitproperly,andsomeonehadseizedtheopportunitytodenudeitofitscontents.Therubies,MonsieurPoirot,theemeraldnecklace—thecollectionofalifetime!WhatwouldInotgivetorecoverthem!Buttheremustbenopublicity!Youfullyunderstandthat,doyounot,MonsieurPoirot?Myownguests,mypersonalfriends!Itwouldbeahorriblescandal!”
“Whowasthelastpersontoleavethisroomwhenyouwenttothestudio?”
“Mr.Johnston.Youmayknowhim?TheSouthAfricanmillionaire.HehasjustrentedtheAbbotburys’houseinParkLane.Helingeredbehindafewmoments,Iremember.Butsurely,oh,surelyitcouldnotbehe!”
“Didanyofyourguestsreturntothisroomduringtheafternoononanypretext?”
“Iwaspreparedforthatquestion,MonsieurPoirot.Threeofthemdidso.CountessVeraRossakoff,Mr.BernardParker,andLadyRuncorn.”
“Letushearaboutthem.”
“TheCountessRossakoffisaverycharmingRussianlady,amemberoftheoldrégime.Shehasrecentlycometothiscountry.Shehadbademegood-bye,andIwasthereforesomewhatsurprisedtofindherinthisroomapparentlygazinginraptureatmycabinetoffans.Youknow,MonsieurPoirot,themoreIthinkofit,themoresuspiciousitseemstome.Don’tyouagree?”
“Extremelysuspicious;butletushearabouttheothers.”
“Well,ParkersimplycameheretofetchacaseofminiaturesthatIwasanxioustoshowtoLadyRuncorn.”
“AndLadyRuncornherself?”
“AsIdaresayyouknow,LadyRuncornisamiddle-agedwomanofconsiderableforceofcharacterwhodevotesmostofhertimetovariouscharitablecommittees.Shesimplyreturnedtofetchahandbagshehadlaiddownsomewhere.”
“Bien,monsieur.Sowehavefourpossiblesuspects.TheRussiancountess,theEnglishgrandedame,theSouthAfricanmillionaire,andMr.BernardParker.WhoisMr.Parker,bytheway?”
ThequestionappearedtoembarrassMr.Hardmanconsiderably.
“Heis—er—heisayoungfellow.Well,infact,ayoungfellowIknow.”
“Ihadalreadydeducedasmuch,”repliedPoirotgravely.“Whatdoeshedo,thisMr.Parker?”
“Heisayoungmanabouttown—not,perhaps,quiteintheswim,ifImaysoexpressmyself.”
“Howdidhecometobeafriendofyours,mayIask?”
“Well—er—ononeortwooccasionshehas—performedcertainlittlecommissionsforme.”
“Continue,monsieur,”saidPoirot.
Hardmanlookedpiteouslyathim.Evidentlythelastthinghewantedtodowastocontinue.ButasPoirotmaintainedaninexorablesilence,hecapitulated.
“Yousee,MonsieurPoirot—itiswell-knownthatIaminterestedinantiquejewels.Sometimesthereisafamilyheirloomtobedisposedof—which,mindyou,wouldneverbesoldintheopenmarketortoadealer.Butaprivatesaletomeisaverydifferentmatter.Parkerarrangesthedetailsofsuchthings,heisintouchwithbothsides,andthusanylittleembarrassmentisavoided.Hebringsanythingofthatkindtomynotice.Forinstance,theCountessRossakoffhasbroughtsomefamilyjewelswithherfromRussia.Sheisanxioustosellthem.BernardParkerwastohavearrangedthetransaction.”
“Isee,”saidPoirotthoughtfully.“Andyoutrusthimimplicitly?”
“Ihavehadnoreasontodootherwise.”
“Mr.Hardman,ofthesefourpeople,whichdoyouyourselfsuspect?”
“Oh,MonsieurPoirot,whataquestion!Theyaremyfriends,asItoldyou.Isuspectnoneofthem—orallofthem,whicheverwayyouliketoputit.”
“Idonotagree.Yoususpectoneofthosefour.ItisnotCountessRossakoff.ItisnotMr.Parker.IsitLadyRuncornorMr.Johnston?”
“Youdrivemeintoacorner,MonsieurPoirot,youdoindeed.Iammostanxioustohavenoscandal.LadyRuncornbelongstooneoftheoldestfamiliesinEngland;butitistrue,itismostunfortunatelytrue,thatheraunt,LadyCaroline,sufferedfromamostmelancholyaffliction.Itwasunderstood,ofcourse,byallherfriends,andhermaidreturnedtheteaspoons,orwhateveritwas,aspromptlyaspossible.Youseemypredicament!”
“SoLadyRuncornhadanauntwhowasakleptomaniac?Veryinteresting.YoupermitthatIexaminethesafe?”
Mr.Hardmanassenting,Poirotpushedbackthedoorofthesafeandexaminedtheinterior.Theemptyvelvet-linedshelvesgapedatus.
“Evennowthedoordoesnotshutproperly,”murmuredPoirot,asheswungittoandfro.“Iwonderwhy?Ah,whathavewehere?Aglove,caughtinthehinge.Aman’sglove.”
HehelditouttoMr.Hardman.
“That’snotoneofmygloves,”thelatterdeclared.
“Aha!Somethingmore!”Poirotbentdeftlyandpickedupasmallobjectfromthefloorofthesafe.Itwasaflatcigarettecasemadeofblackmoiré.
“Mycigarettecase!”criedMr.Hardman.
“Yours?Surelynot,monsieur.Thosearenotyourinitials.”
Hepointedtoanentwinedmonogramoftwolettersexecutedinplatinum.
Hardmantookitinhishand.
“Youareright,”hedeclared.“Itisverylikemine,buttheinitialsaredifferent.A‘B’anda‘P.’Goodheavens—Parker!”
“Itwouldseemso,”saidPoirot.“Asomewhatcarelessyoungman—especiallyifthegloveishisalso.Thatwouldbeadoubleclue,woulditnot?”
“BernardParker!”murmuredHardman.“Whatarelief!Well,MonsieurPoirot,Ileaveittoyoutorecoverthejewels.Placethematterinthehandsofthepoliceifyouthinkfit—thatis,ifyouarequitesurethatitishewhoisguilty.”
“Seeyou,myfriend,”saidPoirottome,asweleftthehousetogether,“hehasonelawforthetitled,andanotherlawfortheplain,thisMr.Hardman.Me,Ihavenotyetbeenennobled,soIamonthesideoftheplain.Ihavesympathyforthisyoungman.Thewholethingwasalittlecurious,wasitnot?TherewasHardmansuspectingLadyRuncorn;therewasI,suspectingtheCountessandJohnston;andallthetime,theobscureMr.Parkerwasourman.”
“Whydidyoususpecttheothertwo?”
“Parbleu!ItissuchasimplethingtobeaRussianrefugeeoraSouthAfricanmillionaire.AnywomancancallherselfaRussiancountess;anyonecanbuyahouseinParkLaneandcallhimselfaSouthAfricanmillionaire.Whoisgoingtocontradictthem?ButIobservethatwearepassingthroughBuryStreet.Ourcarelessyoungfriendliveshere.Letus,asyousay,strikewhiletheironisinthefire.”
Mr.BernardParkerwasathome.Wefoundhimrecliningonsomecushions,cladinanamazingdressinggownofpurpleandorange.IhaveseldomtakenagreaterdisliketoanyonethanIdidtothisparticularyoungmanwithhiswhite,effeminatefaceandaffectedlispingspeech.
“Goodmorning,monsieur,”saidPoirotbriskly.“IcomefromMr.Hardman.Yesterday,attheparty,somebodyhasstolenallhisjewels.Permitmetoaskyou,monsieur—isthisyourglove?”
Mr.Parker’smentalprocessesdidnotseemveryrapid.Hestaredattheglove,asthoughgatheringhiswitstogether
“Wheredidyoufindit?”heaskedatlast.
“Isityourglove,monsieur?”
Mr.Parkerappearedtomakeuphismind
“No,itisn’t,”hedeclared.
“Andthiscigarettecase,isthatyours?”
“Certainlynot.Ialwayscarryasilverone.”
“Verywell,monsieur.Igotoputmattersinthehandsofthepolice.”
“Oh,Isay,Iwouldn’tdothatifIwereyou,”criedMr.Parkerinsomeconcern.“Beastlyunsympatheticpeople,thepolice.Waitabit.I’llgoroundandseeoldHardman.Lookhere—oh,stopaminute.”
ButPoirotbeatadeterminedretreat.
“Wehavegivenhimsomethingtothinkabout,havewenot?”hechuckled.“Tomorrowwewillobservewhathasoccurred.”
ButweweredestinedtohaveareminderoftheHardmancasethatafternoon.Withouttheleastwarningthedoorflewopen,andawhirlwindinhumanforminvadedourprivacy,bringingwithheraswirlofsables(itwasascoldasonlyanEnglishJunedaycanbe)andahatrampantwithslaughteredospreys.CountessVeraRossakoffwasasomewhatdisturbingpersonality.
“YouareMonsieurPoirot?Whatisthisthatyouhavedone?Youaccusethatpoorboy!Itisinfamous.Itisscandalous.Iknowhim.Heisachicken,alamb—neverwouldhesteal.Hehasdoneeverythingforme.WillIstandbyandseehimmartyredandbutchered?”
“Tellme,madame,isthishiscigarettecase?”Poirotheldouttheblackmoirécase.
TheCountesspausedforamomentwhilesheinspectedit.
“Yes,itishis.Iknowitwell.Whatofit?Didyoufinditintheroom?Wewereallthere;hedroppeditthen,Isuppose.Ah,youpolicemen,youareworsethantheRedGuards—”
“Andisthishisglove?”
“HowshouldIknow?Onegloveislikeanother.Donottrytostopme—hemustbesetfree.Hischaractermustbecleared.Youshalldoit.Iwillsellmyjewelsandgiveyoumuchmoney.”
“Madame—”
“Itisagreed,then?No,no,donotargue.Thepoorboy!Hecametome,thetearsinhiseyes.‘Iwillsaveyou,’Isaid.‘Iwillgotothisman—thisogre,thismonster!LeaveittoVera.’Nowitissettled,Igo.”
Withaslittleceremonyasshehadcome,shesweptfromtheroom,leavinganoverpoweringperfumeofanexoticnaturebehindher.
“Whatawoman!”Iexclaimed.“Andwhatfurs!”
“Ah,yes,theyweregenuineenough.Couldaspuriouscountesshaverealfurs?Mylittlejoke,Hastings…No,sheistrulyRussian,Ifancy.Well,well,soMasterBernardwentbleatingtoher.”
“Thecigarettecaseishis.Iwonderifthegloveisalso—”
WithasmilePoirotdrewfromhispocketasecondgloveandplaceditbythefirst.Therewasnodoubtoftheirbeingapair.
“Wheredidyougetthesecondone,Poirot?”
“ItwasthrowndownwithastickonthetableinthehallinBuryStreet.Truly,averycarelessyoungman,MonsieurParker.Well,well,monami—wemustbethorough.Justfortheformofthething,IwillmakealittlevisittoParkLane.”
Needlesstosay,Iaccompaniedmyfriend.Johnstonwasout,butwesawhisprivatesecretary.IttranspiredthatJohnstonhadonlyrecentlyarrivedfromSouthAfrica.HehadneverbeeninEnglandbefore.
“Heisinterestedinpreciousstones,ishenot?”hazardedPoirot.
“Goldminingisnearerthemark,”laughedthesecretary.
Poirotcameawayfromtheinterviewthoughtful.Latethatevening,tomyuttersurprise,IfoundhimearnestlystudyingaRussiangrammar.
“Goodheavens,Poirot!”Icried.“AreyoulearningRussianinordertoconversewiththeCountessinherownlanguage?”
“ShecertainlywouldnotlistentomyEnglish,myfriend!”
“Butsurely,Poirot,well-bornRussiansinvariablyspeakFrench?”
“Youareamineofinformation,Hastings!IwillceasepuzzlingovertheintricaciesoftheRussianalphabet.”
Hethrewthebookfromhimwithadramaticgesture.Iwasnotentirelysatisfied.TherewasatwinkleinhiseyewhichIknewofold.ItwasaninvariablesignthatHerculePoirotwaspleasedwithhimself.
“Perhaps,”Isaidsapiently,“youdoubtherbeingreallyaRussian.Youaregoingtotesther?”
“Ah,no,no,sheisRussianallright.”
“Well,then—”
“Ifyoureallywanttodistinguishyourselfoverthiscase,Hastings,IrecommendFirstStepsinRussianasaninvaluableaid.”
Thenhelaughedandwouldsaynomore.Ipickedupthebookfromtheflooranddippedintoitcuriously,butcouldmakeneitherheadnortailofPoirot’sremarks.
Thefollowingmorningbroughtusnonewsofanykind,butthatdidnotseemtoworrymylittlefriend.Atbreakfast,heannouncedhisintentionofcallinguponMr.Hardmanearlyintheday.Wefoundtheelderlysocialbutterflyathome,andseeminglyalittlecalmerthanonthepreviousday.
“Well,MonsieurPoirot,anynews?”hedemandedeagerly.
Poirothandedhimaslipofpaper.
“Thatisthepersonwhotookthejewels,monsieur.ShallIputmattersinthehandsofthepolice?Orwouldyouprefermetorecoverthejewelswithoutbringingthepoliceintothematter?”
Mr.Hardmanwasstaringatthepaper.Atlasthefoundhisvoice.
“Mostastonishing.Ishouldinfinitelyprefertohavenoscandalinthematter.Igiveyoucarteblanche,MonsieurPoirot.Iamsureyouwillbediscreet.”
Ournextprocedurewastohailataxi,whichPoirotorderedtodrivetotheCarlton.ThereheinquiredforCountessRossakoff.Inafewminuteswewereusheredupintothelady’ssuite.Shecametomeetuswithoutstretchedhands,arrayedinamarvellousnegligéeofbarbaricdesign.
“MonsieurPoirot!”shecried.“Youhavesucceeded?Youhaveclearedthatpoorinfant?”
“MadamelaComtesse,yourfriendMr.Parkerisperfectlysafefromarrest.”
“Ah,butyouarethecleverlittleman!Superb!Andsoquicklytoo.”
“Ontheotherhand,IhavepromisedMr.Hardmanthatthejewelsshallbereturnedtohimtoday.”
“So?”
“Therefore,madame,Ishouldbeextremelyobligedifyouwouldplacetheminmyhandswithoutdelay.Iamsorrytohurryyou,butIamkeepingataxi—incaseitshouldbenecessaryformetogoontoScotlandYard;andweBelgians,madame,wepractisethethrift.”
TheCountesshadlightedacigarette.Forsomesecondsshesatperfectlystill,blowingsmokerings,andgazingsteadilyatPoirot.Thensheburstintoalaugh,androse.Shewentacrosstothebureau,openedadrawer,andtookoutablacksilkhandbag.ShetosseditlightlytoPoirot.Hertone,whenshespoke,wasperfectlylightandunmoved.
“WeRussians,onthecontrary,practiseprodigality,”shesaid.“Andtodothat,unfortunately,onemusthavemoney.Youneednotlookinside.Theyareallthere.”
Poirotarose.
“Icongratulateyou,madame,onyourquickintelligenceandyourpromptitude.”
“Ah!Butsinceyouwerekeepingyourtaxiwaiting,whatelsecouldIdo?”
“Youaretooamiable,madame.YouareremaininglonginLondon?”
“Iamafraidno—owingtoyou.”
“Acceptmyapologies.”
“Weshallmeetagainelsewhere,perhaps.”
“Ihopeso.”
“AndI—donot!”exclaimedtheCountesswithalaugh.“ItisagreatcomplimentthatIpayyouthere—thereareveryfewmenintheworldwhomIfear.Good-bye,MonsieurPoirot.”
“Good-bye,MadamelaComtesse.Ah—pardonme,Iforgot!Allowmetoreturnyouyourcigarettecase.”
Andwithabowhehandedtoherthelittleblackmoirécasewehadfoundinthesafe.Sheaccepteditwithoutanychangeofexpression—justaliftedeyebrowandamurmured:“Isee!”
“Whatawoman!”criedPoirotenthusiasticallyaswedescendedthestairs.“MonDieu,quellefemme!Notawordofargument—ofprotestation,ofbluff!Onequickglance,andshehadsizedupthepositioncorrectly.Itellyou,Hastings,awomanwhocanacceptdefeatlikethat—withacarelesssmile—willgofar!Sheisdangerous,shehasthenervesofsteel;she—”Hetrippedheavily.
“Ifyoucanmanagetomoderateyourtransportsandlookwhereyou’regoing,itmightbeaswell,”Isuggested.“WhendidyoufirstsuspecttheCountess?”
“Monami,itwasthegloveandthecigarettecase—thedoubleclue,shallwesay—thatworriedme.BernardParkermighteasilyhavedroppedoneortheother—buthardlyboth.Ah,no,thatwouldhavebeentoocareless!Inthesameway,ifsomeoneelsehadplacedthemtheretoincriminateParker,onewouldhavebeensufficient—thecigarettecaseortheglove—againnotboth.SoIwasforcedtotheconclusionthatoneofthetwothingsdidnotbelongtoParker.Iimaginedatfirstthatthecasewashis,andthattheglovewasnot.ButwhenIdiscoveredthefellowtotheglove,Isawthatitwastheotherwayabout.Whose,then,wasthecigarettecase?Clearly,itcouldnotbelongtoLadyRuncorn.Theinitialswerewrong.Mr.Johnston?Onlyifhewerehereunderafalsename.Iinterviewedhissecretary,anditwasapparentatoncethateverythingwasclearandaboveboard.TherewasnoreticenceaboutMr.Johnston’spast.TheCountess,then?ShewassupposedtohavebroughtjewelswithherfromRussia;shehadonlytotakethestonesfromtheirsettings,anditwasextremelydoubtfuliftheycouldeverbeidentified.WhatcouldbeeasierforherthantopickuponeofParker’sglovesfromthehallthatdayandthrustitintothesafe?But,biens?r,shedidnotintendtodropherowncigarettecase.”
“Butifthecasewashers,whydidithave‘B.P.’onit?TheCountess’sinitialsareV.R.”
Poirotsmiledgentlyuponme.
“Exactly,monami;butintheRussianalphabet,BisVandPisR.”
“Well,youcouldn’texpectmetoguessthat.Idon’tknowRussian.”
“NeitherdoI,Hastings.ThatiswhyIboughtmylittlebook—andurgeditonyourattention.”
Hesighed.
“Aremarkablewoman.Ihaveafeeling,myfriend—averydecidedfeeling—Ishallmeetheragain.Where,Iwonder?”
Seven
THELASTSéANCE
“TheLastSéance”wasfirstpublishedintheUSAinGhostStoriesmagazine,November1926,andas“TheStolenGhost”inTheSovereignMagazine,March1927.
RaoulDaubreuilcrossedtheSeinehummingalittletunetohimself.Hewasagood-lookingyoungFrenchmanofaboutthirty-two,withafresh-colouredfaceandalittleblackmoustache.Byprofessionhewasanengineer.InduecoursehereachedtheCardonetandturnedinatthedoorofNo.17.Theconciergelookedoutfromherlairandgavehimagrudging“Goodmorning,”towhichherepliedcheerfully.Thenhemountedthestairstotheapartmentonthethirdfloor.Ashestoodtherewaitingforhisringatthebelltobeansweredhehummedoncemorehislittletune.RaoulDaubreuilwasfeelingparticularlycheerfulthismorning.ThedoorwasopenedbyanelderlyFrenchwomanwhosewrinkledface
“Goodmorning,Monsieur.”
“Goodmorning,Elise,”saidRaoul.
Hepassedintothevestibule,pullingoffhisglovesashedidso.
“Madameexpectsme,doesshenot?”heaskedoverhisshoulder.
“Ah,yes,indeed,Monsieur.”
Eliseshutthefrontdoorandturnedtowardshim.
“IfMonsieurwillpassintothelittlesalonMadamewillbewithhiminafewminutes.Atthemomentshereposesherself.”
Raoullookedupsharply.
“Isshenotwell?”
“Well!”
Elisegaveasnort.ShepassedinfrontofRaoulandopenedthedoorofthelittlesalonforhim.Hewentinandshefollowedhim.
“Well!”shecontinued.“Howcouldshebewell,poorlamb?Séances,séances,andalwaysséances!Itisnotright—notnatural,notwhatthegoodGodintendedforus.Forme,Isaystraightout,itistraffickingwiththedevil.”
Raoulpattedherontheshoulderreassuringly.
“There,there,Elise,”hesaidsoothingly,“donotexciteyourself,anddonotbetooreadytoseethedevilineverythingyoudonotunderstand.”
Eliseshookherheaddoubtingly.
“Ah,well,”shegrumbledunderherbreath,“Monsieurmaysaywhathepleases,Idon’tlikeit.LookatMadame,everydayshegetswhiterandthinner,andtheheadaches!”
Sheheldupherhands.
“Ah,no,itisnotgood,allthisspiritbusiness.Spiritsindeed!AllthegoodspiritsareinParadise,andtheothersareinPurgatory.”
“Yourviewofthelifeafterdeathisrefreshinglysimple,Elise,”saidRaoulashedroppedintothechair.
Theoldwomandrewherselfup.
“IamagoodCatholic,Monsieur.”
Shecrossedherself,wenttowardsthedoor,thenpaused,herhandonthehandle.
“Afterwardswhenyouaremarried,Monsieur,”shesaidpleadingly,“itwillnotcontinue—allthis?”
Raoulsmiledatheraffectionately.
“Youareagoodfaithfulcreature,Elise,”hesaid,“anddevotedtoyourmistress.Havenofear,oncesheismywife,allthis‘spiritbusiness’asyoucallit,willcease.ForMadameDaubreuiltherewillbenomoreséances.”
Elise’sfacebrokeintosmiles.
“Isittruewhatyousay?”sheaskedeagerly.
Theothernoddedgravely.
“Yes,”hesaid,speakingalmostmoretohimselfthantoher.“Yes,allthismustend.Simonehasawonderfulgiftandshehasuseditfreely,butnowshehasdoneherpart.Asyouhavejustlyobserved,Elise,daybydayshegetswhiterandthinner.Thelifeofamediumisaparticularlytryingandarduousone,involvingaterriblenervousstrain.Allthesame,Elise,yourmistressisthemostwonderfulmediuminParis—more,inFrance.Peoplefromallovertheworldcometoherbecausetheyknowthatwithherthereisnotrickery,nodeceit.”
Elisegaveasnortofcontempt.
“Deceit!Ah,no,indeed.Madamecouldnotdeceiveanewbornbabeifshetried.”
“Sheisanangel,”saidtheyoungFrenchmanwithfervour.“AndI—Ishalldoeverythingamancantomakeherhappy.Youbelievethat?”
Elisedrewherselfup,andspokewithacertainsimpledignity.
“IhaveservedMadameformanyyears,Monsieur.WithallrespectImaysaythatIloveher.IfIdidnotbelievethatyouadoredherasshedeservestobeadored—ehbien,Monsieur!Ishouldbewillingtotearyoulimbfromlimb.”
Raoullaughed.
“Bravo,Elise!youareafaithfulfriend,andyoumustapproveofmenowthatIhavetoldyouMadameisgoingtogiveupthespirits.”
Heexpectedtheoldwomantoreceivethispleasantrywithalaugh,butsomewhattohissurprisesheremainedgrave.
“Supposing,Monsieur,”shesaidhesitatingly,“thespiritswillnotgiveherup?”
Raoulstaredather.
“Eh!Whatdoyoumean?”
“Isaid,”repeatedElise,“supposingthespiritswillnotgiveherup?”
“Ithoughtyoudidn’tbelieveinthespirits,Elise?”
“NomoreIdo,”saidElisestubbornly.“Itisfoolishtobelieveinthem.Allthesame—”
“Well?”
“Itisdifficultformetoexplain,Monsieur.Yousee,me,Ialwaysthoughtthatthesemediums,astheycallthemselves,werejustclevercheatswhoimposedonthepoorsoulswhohadlosttheirdearones.ButMadameisnotlikethat.Madameisgood.Madameishonestand—”
Sheloweredhervoiceandspokeinatoneofawe.
“Thingshappen.Itisnotrickery,thingshappen,andthatiswhyIamafraid.ForIamsureofthis,Monsieur,itisnotright.ItisagainstnatureandlebonDieu,andsomebodywillhavetopay.”
Raoulgotupfromhischairandcameandpattedherontheshoulder.
“Calmyourself,mygoodElise,”hesaid,smiling.“See,Iwillgiveyousomegoodnews.Todayisthelastoftheseséances;aftertodaytherewillbenomore.”
“Thereisonetodaythen?”askedtheoldwomansuspiciously.
“Thelast,Elise,thelast.”
Eliseshookherheaddisconsolately.
“Madameisnotfit—”shebegan.
Butherwordswereinterrupted,thedooropenedandatall,fairwomancamein.Shewasslenderandgraceful,withthefaceofaBotticelliMadonna.Raoul’sfacelightedup,andElisewithdrewquicklyanddiscreetly.
“Simone!”
Hetookbothherlong,whitehandsinhisandkissedeachinturn.Shemurmuredhisnameverysoftly.
“Raoul,mydearone.”
Againhekissedherhandsandthenlookedintentlyintoherface.
“Simone,howpaleyouare!Elisetoldmeyouwereresting;youarenotill,mywell-beloved?”
“No,notill—”shehesitated.
Heledherovertothesofaandsatdownonitbesideher.
“Buttellmethen.”
Themediumsmiledfaintly.
“Youwillthinkmefoolish,”shemurmured.
“I?Thinkyoufoolish?Never.”
Simonewithdrewherhandfromhisgrasp.Shesatperfectlystillforamomentortwogazingdownatthecarpet.Thenshespokeinalow,hurriedvoice.
“Iamafraid,Raoul.”
Hewaitedforaminuteortwoexpectinghertogoon,butasshedidnothesaidencouragingly:
“Yes,afraidofwhat?”
“Justafraid—thatisall.”
“But—”
Helookedatherinperplexity,andsheansweredthelookquickly.
“Yes,itisabsurd,isn’tit,andyetIfeeljustthat.Afraid,nothingmore.Idon’tknowwhatof,orwhy,butallthetimeIampossessedwiththeideathatsomethingterrible—terrible,isgoingtohappentome….”
Shestaredoutinfrontofher.Raoulputanarmgentlyroundher.
“Mydearest,”hesaid,“come,youmustnotgiveway.Iknowwhatitis,thestrain,Simone,thestrainofamedium’slife.Allyouneedisrest—restandquiet.”
Shelookedathimgratefully.
“Yes,Raoul,youareright.ThatiswhatIneed,restandquiet.”
Sheclosedhereyesandleantbackalittleagainsthisarm.
“Andhappiness,”murmuredRaoulinherear.
Hisarmdrewhercloser.Simone,hereyesstillclosed,drewadeepbreath.
“Yes,”shemurmured,“yes.WhenyourarmsareroundmeIfeelsafe.Iforgetmylife—theterriblelife—ofamedium.Youknowmuch,Raoul,butevenyoudonotknowallitmeans.”
Hefeltherbodygrowrigidinhisembrace.Hereyesopenedagain,staringinfrontofher.
“Onesitsinthecabinetinthedarkness,waiting,andthedarknessisterrible,Raoul,foritisthedarknessofemptiness,ofnothingness.Deliberatelyonegivesoneselfuptobelostinit.Afterthatoneknowsnothing,onefeelsnothing,butatlasttherecomestheslow,painfulreturn,theawakeningoutofsleep,butsotired—soterriblytired.”
“Iknow,”murmuredRaoul,“Iknow.”
“Sotired,”murmuredSimoneagain.
Herwholebodyseemedtodroopassherepeatedthewords.
“Butyouarewonderful,Simone.”
Hetookherhandsinhis,tryingtorousehertosharehisenthusiasm.
“Youareunique—thegreatestmediumtheworldhaseverknown.”
Sheshookherhead,smilingalittleatthat.
“Yes,yes,”Raoulinsisted.
Hedrewtwolettersfromhispocket.
“Seehere,fromProfessorRocheoftheSalpétrière,andthisonefromDr.GeniratNancy,bothimploringthatyouwillcontinuetositforthemoccasionally.”
“Ah,no!”
Simonesprangtoherfeet.
“Iwillnot,Iwillnot.Itistobeallfinished—alldonewith.Youpromisedme,Raoul.”
Raoulstaredatherinastonishmentasshestoodwavering,facinghimalmostlikeacreatureatbay.Hegotupandtookherhand.
“Yes,yes,”hesaid.“Certainlyitisfinished,thatisunderstood.ButIamsoproudofyou,Simone,thatiswhyImentionedthoseletters.”
Shethrewhimaswiftsidewaysglanceofsuspicion.
“Itisnotthatyouwilleverwantmetositagain?”
“No,no,”saidRaoul,“unlessperhapsyouyourselfwouldcareto,justoccasionallyfortheseoldfriends—”
Butsheinterruptedhim,speakingexcitedly.
“No,no,neveragain.Thereisadanger.Itellyou,Icanfeelit,greatdanger.”
Sheclaspedherhandsonherforeheadaminute,thenwalkedacrosstothewindow.
“Promisemeneveragain,”shesaidinaquietervoiceoverhershoulder.
Raoulfollowedherandputhisarmsroundhershoulders.
“Mydearone,”hesaidtenderly,“Ipromiseyouaftertodayyoushallneversitagain.”
Hefeltthesuddenstartshegave.
“Today,”shemurmured.“Ah,yes—IhadforgottenMadameExe.”
Raoullookedathiswatch.
“Sheisdueanyminutenow;butperhaps,Simone,ifyoudonotfeelwell—”
Simonehardlyseemedtobelisteningtohim;shewasfollowingoutherowntrainofthought.
“Sheis—astrangewoman,Raoul,averystrangewoman.DoyouknowI—Ihavealmostahorrorofher.”
“Simone!”
Therewasreproachinhisvoice,andshewasquicktofeelit.
“Yes,yes,Iknow,youarelikeallFrenchmen,Raoul.Toyouamotherissacredanditisunkindofmetofeellikethataboutherwhenshegrievessoforherlostchild.But—Icannotexplainit,sheissobigandblack,andherhands—haveyouevernoticedherhands,Raoul?Greatbigstronghands,asstrongasaman’s.Ah!”
Shegavealittleshiverandclosedhereyes.Raoulwithdrewhisarmandspokealmostcoldly.
“Ireallycannotunderstandyou,Simone.Surelyyou,awoman,shouldhavenothingbutsympathyforanotherwoman,amotherbereftofheronlychild.”
Simonemadeagestureofimpatience.
“Ah,itisyouwhodonotunderstand,myfriend!Onecannothelpthesethings.ThefirstmomentIsawherIfelt—”
Sheflungherhandsout.
“Fear!Youremember,itwasalongtimebeforeIwouldconsenttositforher?Ifeltsureinsomewayshewouldbringmemisfortune.”
Raoulshruggedhisshoulders.
“Whereas,inactualfact,shebroughtyoutheexactopposite,”hesaiddrily.“Allthesittingshavebeenattendedwithmarkedsuccess.ThespiritofthelittleAmeliewasabletocontrolyouatonce,andthematerializationshavereallybeenstriking.ProfessorRocheoughtreallytohavebeenpresentatthelastone.”
“Materializations,”saidSimoneinalowvoice.“Tellme,Raoul(youknowthatIknownothingofwhattakesplacewhileIaminthetrance),arethematerializationsreallysowonderful?”
Henoddedenthusiastically.
“Atthefirstfewsittingsthefigureofthechildwasvisibleinakindofnebuloushaze,”heexplained,“butatthelastséance—”
“Yes?”
Hespokeverysoftly.
“Simone,thechildthatstoodtherewasanactuallivingchildoffleshandblood.Ieventouchedher—butseeingthatthetouchwasacutelypainfultoyou,IwouldnotpermitMadameExetodothesame.Iwasafraidthatherself-controlmightbreakdown,andthatsomeharmtoyoumightresult.”
Simoneturnedawayagaintowardsthewindow.
“IwasterriblyexhaustedwhenIwoke,”shemurmured.“Raoul,areyousure—areyoureallysurethatallthisisright?YouknowwhatdearoldElisethinks,thatIamtraffickingwiththedevil?”
Shelaughedratheruncertainly.
“YouknowwhatIbelieve,”saidRaoulgravely.“Inthehandlingoftheunknowntheremustalwaysbedanger,butthecauseisanobleone,foritisthecauseofScience.AllovertheworldtherehavebeenmartyrstoScience,pioneerswhohavepaidthepricesothatothersmayfollowsafelyintheirfootsteps.FortenyearsnowyouhaveworkedforScienceatthecostofaterrificnervousstrain.Nowyourpartisdone,fromtodayonwardyouarefreetobehappy.”
Shesmiledathimaffectionately,hercalmrestored.Thensheglancedquicklyupattheclock.
“MadameExeislate,”shemurmured.“Shemaynotcome.”
“Ithinkshewill,”saidRaoul.“Yourclockisalittlefast,Simone.”
Simonemovedabouttheroom,rearranginganornamenthereandthere.
“Iwonderwhosheis,thisMadameExe?”sheobserved.“Whereshecomesfrom,whoherpeopleare?Itisstrangethatweknownothingabouther.”
Raoulshruggedhisshoulders.
“Mostpeopleremainincognitoifpossiblewhentheycometoamedium,”heobserved.“Itisanelementaryprecaution.”
“Isupposeso,”agreedSimonelistlessly.
Alittlechinavaseshewasholdingslippedfromherfingersandbroketopiecesonthetilesofthefireplace.SheturnedsharplyonRaoul.
“Yousee,”shemurmured,“Iamnotmyself.Raoul,wouldyouthinkmevery—verycowardlyifItoldMadameExeIcouldnotsittoday?”
Hislookofpainedastonishmentmadeherredden.
“Youpromised,Simone—”hebegangently.
Shebackedagainstthewall.
“Iwon’tdoit,Raoul.Iwon’tdoit.”
Andagainthatglanceofhis,tenderlyreproachful,madeherwince.
“ItisnotofthemoneyIamthinking,Simone,thoughyoumustrealizethatthemoneythiswomanhasofferedyouforthelastsittingisenormous—simplyenormous.”
Sheinterruptedhimdefiantly.
“Therearethingsthatmattermorethanmoney.”
“Certainlythereare,”heagreedwarmly.“ThatisjustwhatIamsaying.Consider—thiswomanisamother,amotherwhohaslostheronlychild.Ifyouarenotreallyill,ifitisonlyawhimonyourpart—youcandenyarichwomanacaprice,canyoudenyamotheronelastsightofherchild?”
Themediumflungherhandsoutdespairinglyinfrontofher.
“Oh,youtortureme,”shemurmured.“Allthesameyouareright.Iwilldoasyouwish,butIknownowwhatIamafraidof—itistheword‘mother.’”
“Simone!”
“Therearecertainprimitiveelementaryforces,Raoul.Mostofthemhavebeendestroyedbycivilization,butmotherhoodstandswhereitstoodatthebeginning.Animals—humanbeings,theyareallthesame.Amother’sloveforherchildislikenothingelseintheworld.Itknowsnolaw,nopity,itdaresallthingsandcrushesdownremorselesslyallthatstandsinitspath.”
Shestopped,pantingalittle,thenturnedtohimwithaquick,disarmingsmile.
“Iamfoolishtoday,Raoul.Iknowit.”
Hetookherhandinhis.
“Liedownforaminuteortwo,”heurged.“Resttillshecomes.”
“Verywell.”Shesmiledathimandlefttheroom.
Raoulremainedforaminuteortwolostinthought,thenhestrodetothedoor,openedit,andcrossedthelittlehall.Hewentintoaroomtheothersideofit,asittingroomverymuchliketheonehehadleft,butatoneendwasanalcovewithabigarmchairsetinit.Heavyblackvelvetcurtainswerearrangedsoastopullacrossthealcove.Elisewasbusyarrangingtheroom.Closetothealcoveshehadsettwochairsandasmallroundtable.Onthetablewasatambourine,ahorn,andsomepaperandpencils.
“Thelasttime,”murmuredElisewithgrimsatisfaction.“Ah,Monsieur,Iwishitwereoveranddonewith.”
Thesharptingofanelectricbellsounded.
“Theresheis,thegreatgendarmeofawoman,”continuedtheoldservant.“Whycan’tshegoandpraydecentlyforherlittleone’ssoulinachurch,andburnacandletoOurBlessedLady?DoesnotthegoodGodknowwhatisbestforus?”
“Answerthebell,Elise,”saidRaoulperemptorily.
Shethrewhimalook,butobeyed.Inaminuteortwoshereturnedusheringinthevisitor.
“Iwilltellmymistressyouarehere,Madame.”
RaoulcameforwardtoshakehandswithMadameExe.Simone’swordsfloatedbacktohismemory.
“Sobigandsoblack.”
Shewasabigwoman,andtheheavyblackofFrenchmourningseemedalmostexaggeratedinhercase.Hervoicewhenshespokewasverydeep.
“IfearIamalittlelate,Monsieur.”
“Afewmomentsonly,”saidRaoul,smiling.“MadameSimoneislyingdown.Iamsorrytosaysheisfarfromwell,verynervousandoverwrought.”
Herhand,whichshewasjustwithdrawing,closedonhissuddenlylikeavice.
“Butshewillsit?”shedemandedsharply.
“Oh,yes,Madame.”
MadameExegaveasighofrelief,andsankintoachair,looseningoneoftheheavyblackveilsthatfloatedroundher.
“Ah,Monsieur!”shemurmured,“youcannotimagine,youcannotconceivethewonderandthejoyoftheseséancestome!Mylittleone!MyAmelie!Toseeher,tohearher,even—perhaps—yes,perhapstobeevenableto—stretchoutmyhandandtouchher.”
Raoulspokequicklyandperemptorily.
“MadameExe—howcanIexplain?—onnoaccountmustyoudoanythingexceptundermyexpressdirections,otherwisethereisthegravestdanger.”
“Dangertome?”
“No,Madame,”saidRaoul,“tothemedium.YoumustunderstandthatthephenomenathatoccurareexplainedbyScienceinacertainway.Iwillputthematterverysimply,usingnotechnicalterms.Aspirit,tomanifestitself,hastousetheactualphysicalsubstanceofthemedium.Youhaveseenthevapouroffluidissuingfromthelipsofthemedium.Thisfinallycondensesandisbuiltupintothephysicalsemblanceofthespirit’sdeadbody.Butthisectoplasmwebelievetobetheactualsubstanceofthemedium.Wehopetoprovethissomedaybycarefulweighingandtesting—butthegreatdifficultyisthedangerandpainwhichattendsthemediumonanyhandlingofthephenomena.Wereanyonetoseizeholdofthematerializationroughlythedeathofthemediummightresult.”
MadameExehadlistenedtohimwithcloseattention.
“Thatisveryinteresting,Monsieur.Tellme,shallnotatimecomewhenthematerializationshalladvancesofarthatitshallbecapableofdetachmentfromitsparent,themedium?”
“Thatisafantasticspeculation,Madame.”
Shepersisted.
“But,onthefacts,notimpossible?”
“Quiteimpossibletoday.”
“Butperhapsinthefuture?”
Hewassavedfromanswering,foratthatmomentSimoneentered.Shelookedlanguidandpale,buthadevidentlyregainedentirecontrolofherself.ShecameforwardandshookhandswithMadameExe,thoughRaoulnoticedthefaintshiverthatpassedthroughherasshedidso.
“Iregret,Madame,tohearthatyouareindisposed,”saidMadameExe.
“Itisnothing,”saidSimoneratherbrusquely.“Shallwebegin?”
Shewenttothealcoveandsatdowninthearmchair.SuddenlyRaoulinhisturnfeltawaveoffearpassoverhim.
“Youarenotstrongenough,”heexclaimed.“Wehadbettercanceltheséance.MadameExewillunderstand.”
“Monsieur!”
MadameExeroseindignantly.
“Yes,yes,itisbetternot,Iamsureofit.”
“MadameSimonepromisedmeonelastsitting.”
“Thatisso,”agreedSimonequietly,“andIampreparedtocarryoutmypromise.”
“Iholdyoutoit,Madame,”saidtheotherwoman.
“Idonotbreakmyword,”saidSimonecoldly.“Donotfear,Raoul,”sheaddedgently,“afterall,itisforthelasttime—thelasttime,thankGod.”
AtasignfromherRaouldrewtheheavyblackcurtainsacrossthealcove.Healsopulledthecurtainsofthewindowsothattheroomwasinsemiobscurity.HeindicatedoneofthechairstoMadameExeandpreparedhimselftotaketheother.MadameExe,however,hesitated.
“Youwillpardonme,Monsieur,but—youunderstandIbelieveabsolutelyinyourintegrityandinthatofMadameSimone.Allthesame,sothatmytestimonymaybethemorevaluable,Itookthelibertyofbringingthiswithme.”
Fromherhandbagshedrewalengthoffinecord.
“Madame!”criedRaoul.“Thisisaninsult!”
“Aprecaution.”
“Irepeatitisaninsult.”
“Idon’tunderstandyourobjection,Monsieur,”saidMadameExecoldly.“Ifthereisnotrickeryyouhavenothingtofear.”
Raoullaughedscornfully.
“IcanassureyouthatIhavenothingtofear,Madame.Bindmehandandfootifyouwill.”
Hisspeechdidnotproducetheeffecthehoped,forMadameExemerelymurmuredunemotionally:
“Thankyou,Monsieur,”andadvanceduponhimwithherrollofcord.
SuddenlySimonefrombehindthecurtaingaveacry.
“No,no,Raoul,don’tletherdoit.”
MadameExelaughedderisively.
“Madameisafraid,”sheobservedsarcastically.
“Yes,Iamafraid.”
“Rememberwhatyouaresaying,Simone,”criedRaoul.“MadameExeisapparentlyundertheimpressionthatwearecharlatans.”
“Imustmakesure,”saidMadameExegrimly.
Shewentmethodicallyabouthertask,bindingRaoulsecurelytohischair.
“Imustcongratulateyouonyourknots,Madame,”heobservedironicallywhenshehadfinished.“Areyousatisfiednow?”
MadameExedidnotreply.Shewalkedroundtheroomexaminingthepanellingofthewallsclosely.Thenshelockedthedoorleadingintothehall,and,removingthekey,returnedtoherchair.
“Now,”shesaidinanindescribablevoice,“Iamready.”
Theminutespassed.FrombehindthecurtainthesoundofSimone’sbreathingbecameheavierandmorestertorous.Thenitdiedawayaltogether,tobesucceededbyaseriesofmoans.Thenagaintherewassilenceforalittlewhile,brokenbythesuddenclatteringofthetambourine.Thehornwascaughtupfromthetableanddashedtotheground.Ironiclaughterwasheard.Thecurtainsofthealcoveseemedtohavebeenpulledbackalittle,themedium’sfigurewasjustvisiblethroughtheopening,herheadfallenforwardonherbreast.SuddenlyMadameExedrewinherbreathsharply.Aribbonlikestreamofmistwasissuingfromthemedium’smouth.Itcondensedandbegangraduallytoassumeashape,theshapeofalittlechild.
“Amelie!MylittleAmelie!”
ThehoarsewhispercamefromMadameExe.Thehazyfigurecondensedstillfurther.Raoulstaredalmostincredulously.Neverhadtherebeenamoresuccessfulmaterialization.Now,surelyitwasarealchild,arealfleshandbloodchildstandingthere.
“Maman!”
Thesoftchildishvoicespoke.
“Mychild!”criedMadameExe.“Mychild!”
Shehalfrosefromherseat.
“Becareful,Madame,”criedRaoulwarningly.
Thematerializationcamehesitatinglythroughthecurtains.Itwasachild.Shestoodthere,herarmsheldout.
“Maman!”
“Ah!”criedMadameExe.
Againshehalfrosefromherseat.
“Madame,”criedRaoul,alarmed,“themedium—”
“Imusttouchher,”criedMadameExehoarsely.
Shemovedastepforward.
“ForGod’ssake,Madame,controlyourself,”criedRaoul.
Hewasreallyalarmednow.
“Sitdownatonce.”
“Mylittleone,Imusttouchher.”
“Madame,Icommandyou,sitdown!”
Hewaswrithingdesperatelyinhisbonds,butMadameExehaddoneherworkwell;hewashelpless.Aterriblesenseofimpendingdisastersweptoverhim.
“InthenameofGod,Madame,sitdown!”heshouted.“Rememberthemedium.”
MadameExeturnedonhimwithaharshlaugh.
“WhatdoIcareforyourmedium?”shecried.“Iwantmychild.”
“Youaremad!”
“Mychild,Itellyou.Mine!Myown!Myownfleshandblood!Mylittleonecomebacktomefromthedead,aliveandbreathing.”
Raoulopenedhislips,butnowordswouldcome.Shewasterrible,thiswoman!Remorseless,savage,absorbedbyherownpassion.Thebabylipsparted,andforthethirdtimethewordechoed:
“Maman!”
“Comethen,mylittleone,”criedMadameExe.
Withasharpgestureshecaughtupthechildinherarms.Frombehindthecurtainscamealong-drawnscreamofutteranguish.
“Simone!”criedRaoul.“Simone!”
HewasawarevaguelyofMadameExerushingpasthim,oftheunlockingofthedoor,oftheretreatingfootstepsdownthestairs.
Frombehindthecurtainstherestillsoundedtheterriblehighlong-drawnscream—suchascreamasRaoulhadneverheard.Itdiedawaywithahorriblekindofgurgle.Thentherecamethethudofabodyfalling….
Raoulwasworkinglikeamaniactofreehimselffromhisbonds.Inhisfrenzyheaccomplishedtheimpossible,snappingthecordbysheerstrength.Ashestruggledtohisfeet,Eliserushedincrying“Madame!”
“Simone!”criedRaoul.
Togethertheyrushedforwardandpulledthecurtain.
Raoulstaggeredback.
“MyGod!”hemurmured.“Red—allred….”
Elise’svoicecamebesidehimharshandshaking.
“SoMadameisdead.Itisended.Buttellme,Monsieur,whathashappened.WhyisMadameallshrunkenaway—whyisshehalfherusualsize?Whathasbeenhappeninghere?”
“Idonotknow,”saidRaoul.
Hisvoicerosetoascream.
“Idonotknow.Idonotknow.ButIthink—Iamgoingmad…Simone!Simone!”
Eight
SANCTUARY
Thevicar’swifecameroundthecornerofthevicaragewithherarmsfullofchrysanthemums.Agooddealofrichgardensoilwasattachedtoherstrongbrogueshoesandafewfragmentsofearthwereadheringtohernose,butofthatfactshewasperfectlyunconscious.
Shehadaslightstruggleinopeningthevicaragegatewhichhung,rustily,halfoffitshinges.Apuffofwindcaughtatherbatteredfelthat,causingittositevenmorerakishlythanithaddonebefore.“Bother!”saidBunch.
ChristenedbyheroptimisticparentsDiana,Mrs.HarmonhadbecomeBunchatanearlyageforsomewhatobviousreasonsandthenamehadstucktohereversince.Clutchingthechrysanthemums,shemadeherwaythroughthegatetothechurchyard,andsotothechurchdoor.
TheNovemberairwasmildanddamp.Cloudsscuddedacrosstheskywithpatchesofbluehereandthere.Inside,thechurchwasdarkandcold;itwasunheatedexceptatservicetimes.
“Brrrrrh!”saidBunchexpressively.“I’dbettergetonwiththisquickly.Idon’twanttodieofcold.”
Withthequicknessbornofpracticeshecollectedthenecessaryparaphernalia:vases,water,flowerholders.“Iwishwehadlilies,”thoughtBunchtoherself.“Igetsotiredofthesescraggychrysanthemums.”Hernimblefingersarrangedthebloomsintheirholders.
Therewasnothingparticularlyoriginalorartisticaboutthedecorations,forBunchHarmonherselfwasneitheroriginalnorartistic,butitwasahomelyandpleasantarrangement.Carryingthevasescarefully,Bunchsteppeduptheaisleandmadeherwaytowardsthealtar.Asshedidsothesuncameout.
Itshonethroughtheeastwindowofsomewhatcrudecolouredglass,mostlyblueandred—thegiftofawealthyVictorianchurchgoer.Theeffectwasalmoststartlinginitssuddenopulence.“Likejewels,”thoughtBunch.Suddenlyshestopped,staringaheadofher.Onthechancelstepswasahuddleddarkform.
Puttingdowntheflowerscarefully,Bunchwentuptoitandbentoverit.Itwasamanlyingthere,huddledoveronhimself.Bunchkneltdownbyhimandslowly,carefully,sheturnedhimover.Herfingerswenttohispulse—apulsesofeebleandflutteringthatittolditsownstory,asdidthealmostgreenishpallorofhisface.Therewasnodoubt,Bunchthought,thatthemanwasdying.
Hewasamanofaboutforty-five,dressedinadark,shabbysuit.Shelaiddownthelimphandshehadpickedupandlookedathisotherhand.Thisseemedclenchedlikeafistonhisbreast.Lookingmorecloselyshesawthatthefingerswereclosedoverwhatseemedtobealargewadorhandkerchiefwhichhewasholdingtightlytohischest.Allroundtheclenchedhandthereweresplashesofadrybrownfluidwhich,Bunchguessed,wasdryblood.Bunchsatbackonherheels,frowning.
Uptillnowtheman’seyeshadbeenclosedbutatthispointtheysuddenlyopenedandfixedthemselvesonBunch’sface.Theywereneitherdazednorwandering.Theyseemedfullyaliveandintelligent.Hislipsmoved,andBunchbentforwardtocatchthewords,orrathertheword.Itwasonlyonewordthathesaid:
“Sanctuary.”
Therewas,shethought,justaveryfaintsmileashebreathedoutthisword.Therewasnomistakingit,forafteramomenthesaiditagain,“Sanctuary….”
Then,withafaint,long-drawn-outsigh,hiseyesclosedagain.OncemoreBunch’sfingerswenttohispulse.Itwasstillthere,butfainternowandmoreintermittent.Shegotupwithdecision.
“Don’tmove,”shesaid,“ortrytomove.I’mgoingforhelp.”
Theman’seyesopenedagainbutheseemednowtobefixinghisattentiononthecolouredlightthatcamethroughtheeastwindow.HemurmuredsomethingthatBunchcouldnotquitecatch.Shethought,startled,thatitmighthavebeenherhusband’sname.
“Julian?”shesaid.“DidyoucomeheretofindJulian?”Buttherewasnoanswer.Themanlaywitheyesclosed,hisbreathingcominginslow,shallowfashion.
Bunchturnedandleftthechurchrapidly.Sheglancedatherwatchandnoddedwithsomesatisfaction.Dr.Griffithswouldstillbeinhissurgery.Itwasonlyacoupleofminutes’walkfromthechurch.Shewentin,withoutwaitingtoknockorring,passingthroughthewaitingroomandintothedoctor’ssurgery.
“Youmustcomeatonce,”saidBunch.“There’samandyinginthechurch.”
SomeminuteslaterDr.Griffithsrosefromhiskneesafterabriefexamination
“Canwemovehimfromhereintothevicarage?Icanattendtohimbetterthere—notthatit’sanyuse.”
“Ofcourse,”saidBunch.“I’llgoalongandgetthingsready.I’llgetHarperandJones,shallI?Tohelpyoucarryhim.”
“Thanks.Icantelephonefromthevicarageforanambulance,butI’mafraid—bythetimeitcomes….”Helefttheremarkunfinished.
Bunchsaid,“Internalbleeding?”
Dr.Griffithsnodded.Hesaid,“Howonearthdidhecomehere?”
“Ithinkhemusthavebeenhereallnight,”saidBunch,considering.“Harperunlocksthechurchinthemorningashegoestowork,buthedoesn’tusuallycomein.”
ItwasaboutfiveminuteslaterwhenDr.Griffithsputdownthetelephonereceiverandcamebackintothemorningroomwheretheinjuredmanwaslyingonquicklyarrangedblanketsonthesofa.Bunchwasmovingabasinofwaterandclearingupafterthedoctor’sexamination.
“Well,that’sthat,”saidGriffiths.“I’vesentforanambulanceandI’venotifiedthepolice.”Hestood,frowning,lookingdownonthepatientwholaywithclosedeyes.Hislefthandwaspluckinginanervous,spasmodicwayathisside.
“Hewasshot,”saidGriffiths.“Shotatfairlyclosequarters.Herolledhishandkerchiefupintoaballandpluggedthewoundwithitsoastostopthebleeding.”
“Couldhehavegonefarafterthathappened?”Bunchasked.
“Oh,yes,it’squitepossible.Amortallywoundedmanhasbeenknowntopickhimselfupandwalkalongastreetasthoughnothinghadhappened,andthensuddenlycollapsefiveortenminuteslater.Soheneedn’thavebeenshotinthechurch.Ohno.Hemayhavebeenshotsomedistanceaway.Ofcourse,hemayhaveshothimselfandthendroppedtherevolverandstaggeredblindlytowardsthechurch.Idon’tquiteknowwhyhemadeforthechurchandnotforthevicarage.”
“Oh,Iknowthat,”saidBunch.“Hesaidit:‘Sanctuary.’”
Thedoctorstaredather.“Sanctuary?”
“Here’sJulian,”saidBunch,turningherheadassheheardherhusband’sstepsinthehall.“Julian!Comehere.”
TheReverendJulianHarmonenteredtheroom.Hisvague,scholarlymanneralwaysmadehimappearmucholderthanhereallywas.“Dearme!”saidJulianHarmon,staringinamild,puzzledmanneratthesurgicalappliancesandthepronefigureonthesofa.
Bunchexplainedwithherusualeconomyofwords.“Hewasinthechurch,dying.He’dbeenshot.Doyouknowhim,Julian?Ithoughthesaidyourname.”
Thevicarcameuptothesofaandlookeddownatthedyingman.“Poorfellow,”hesaid,andshookhishead.“No,Idon’tknowhim.I’malmostsureI’veneverseenhimbefore.”
Atthatmomentthedyingman’seyesopenedoncemore.TheywentfromthedoctortoJulianHarmonandfromhimtohiswife.Theeyesstayedthere,staringintoBunch’sface.Griffithssteppedforward.
“Ifyoucouldtellus,”hesaidurgently.
ButwitheyesfixedonBunch,themansaidinaweakvoice,“Please—please—”Andthen,withaslighttremor,hedied….
SergeantHayeslickedhispencilandturnedthepageofhisnotebook.
“Sothat’sallyoucantellme,Mrs.Harmon?”
“That’sall,”saidBunch.“Thesearethethingsoutofhiscoatpockets.”
OnatableatSergeantHayes’selbowwasawallet,aratherbatteredoldwatchwiththeinitials.W.S.andthereturnhalfofatickettoLondon.Nothingmore.
“You’vefoundoutwhoheis?”askedBunch.
“AMr.andMrs.Ecclesphonedupthestation.He’sherbrother,itseems.NameofSandbourne.Beeninalowstateofhealthandnervesforsometime.He’sbeengettingworselately.Thedaybeforeyesterdayhewalkedoutanddidn’tcomeback.Hetookarevolverwithhim.”
“Andhecameouthereandshothimselfwithit?”saidBunch.“Why?”
“Well,yousee,he’dbeendepressed….”
Bunchinterruptedhim.“Idon’tmeanthat.Imean,whyhere?”
SinceSergeantHayesobviouslydidnotknowtheanswertothatone,herepliedinanobliquefashion,“Comeouthere,hedid,onthefivetenbus.”
“Yes,”saidBunchagain.“Butwhy?”
“Idon’tknow,Mrs.Harmon,”saidSergeantHayes.“There’snoaccounting.Ifthebalanceofthemindisdisturbed—”
Bunchfinishedforhim.“Theymaydoitanywhere.Butitstillseemstomeunnecessarytotakeabusouttoasmallcountryplacelikethis.Hedidn’tknowanyonehere,didhe?”
“Notsofarascanbeascertained,”saidSergeantHayes.Hecoughedinanapologeticmannerandsaid,asherosetohisfeet,“ItmaybeasMr.andMrs.Eccleswillcomeoutandseeyou,ma’am—ifyoudon’tmind,thatis.”
“OfcourseIdon’tmind,”saidBunch.“It’sverynatural.IonlywishIhadsomethingtotellthem.”
“I’llbegettingalong,”saidSergeantHayes.
“I’monlysothankful,”saidBunch,goingwithhimtothefrontdoor,“thatitwasn’tmurder.”
Acarhaddrivenupatthevicaragegate.SergeantHayes,glancingatit,remarked:“Looksasthoughthat’sMr.andMrs.Ecclescomeherenow,ma’am,totalkwithyou.”
Bunchbracedherselftoendurewhat,shefelt,mightberatheradifficultordeal.“However,”shethought,“IcanalwayscallJuliantohelpme.Aclergyman’sagreathelpwhenpeoplearebereaved.”
ExactlywhatshehadexpectedMr.andMrs.Ecclestobelike,Bunchcouldnothavesaid,butshewasconscious,asshegreetedthem,ofafeelingofsurprise.Mr.Eccleswasastoutfloridmanwhosenaturalmannerwouldhavebeencheerfulandfacetious.Mrs.Eccleshadavaguelyflashylookabouther.Shehadasmall,mean,pursed-upmouth.Hervoicewasthinandreedy.
“It’sbeenaterribleshock,Mrs.Harmon,asyoucanimagine,”shesaid.
“Oh,Iknow,”saidBunch.“Itmusthavebeen.Dositdown.CanIofferyou—well,perhapsit’salittleearlyfortea—”
Mr.Eccleswavedapudgyhand.“No,no,nothingforus,”hesaid.“It’sverykindofyou,I’msure.Justwantedto…well…whatpoorWilliamsaidandallthat,youknow?”
“He’sbeenabroadalongtime,”saidMrs.Eccles,“andIthinkhemusthavehadsomeverynastyexperiences.Veryquietanddepressedhe’sbeen,eversincehecamehome.Saidtheworldwasn’tfittoliveinandtherewasnothingtolookforwardto.PoorBill,hewasalwaysmoody.”
Bunchstaredatthembothforamomentortwowithoutspeaking.
“Pinchedmyhusband’srevolver,hedid,”wentonMrs.Eccles.“Withoutourknowing.Thenitseemshecomeherebybus.Isupposethatwasnicefeelingonhispart.Hewouldn’thavelikedtodoitinourhouse.”
“Poorfellow,poorfellow,”saidMr.Eccles,withasigh.“Itdoesn’tdotojudge.”
Therewasanothershortpause,andMr.Ecclessaid,“Didheleaveamessage?Anylastwords,nothinglikethat?”
Hisbright,ratherpiglikeeyeswatchedBunchclosely.Mrs.Eccles,too,leanedforwardasthoughanxiousforthereply.
“No,”saidBunchquietly.“Hecameintothechurchwhenhewasdying,forsanctuary.”
Mrs.Ecclessaidinapuzzledvoice.“Sanctuary?Idon’tthinkIquite….”
Mr.Ecclesinterrupted.“Holyplace,mydear,”hesaidimpatiently.“That’swhatthevicar’swifemeans.It’sasin—suicide,youknow.Iexpecthewantedtomakeamends.”
“Hetriedtosaysomethingjustbeforehedied,”saidBunch.“Hebegan,‘Please,’butthat’sasfarashegot.”
Mrs.Ecclesputherhandkerchieftohereyesandsniffed.“Oh,dear,”shesaid.“It’sterriblyupsetting,isn’tit?”
“There,there,Pam,”saidherhusband.“Don’ttakeon.Thesethingscan’tbehelped.PoorWillie.Still,he’satpeacenow.Well,thankyouverymuch,Mrs.Harmon.Ihopewehaven’tinterruptedyou.Avicar’swifeisabusylady,weknowthat.”
Theyshookhandswithher.ThenEcclesturnedbacksuddenlytosay,“Ohyes,there’sjustoneotherthing.Ithinkyou’vegothiscoathere,haven’tyou?”
“Hiscoat?”Bunchfrowned.
Mrs.Ecclessaid,“We’dlikeallhisthings,youknow.Sentimental-like.”
“Hehadawatchandawalletandarailwayticketinthepockets,”saidBunch.“IgavethemtoSergeantHayes.”
“That’sallright,then,”saidMr.Eccles.“He’llhandthemovertous,Iexpect.Hisprivatepaperswouldbeinthewallet.”
“Therewasapoundnoteinthewallet,”saidBunch.“Nothingelse.”
“Noletters?Nothinglikethat?”
Bunchshookherhead.
“Well,thankyouagain,Mrs.Harmon.Thecoathewaswearing—perhapsthesergeant’sgotthattoo,hashe?”
Bunchfrownedinaneffortofremembrance.
“No,”shesaid.“Idon’tthink…letmesee.ThedoctorandItookhiscoatofftoexaminehiswound.”Shelookedroundtheroomvaguely.“Imusthavetakenitupstairswiththetowelsandbasin.”
“Iwondernow,Mrs.Harmon,ifyoudon’tmind…We’dlikehiscoat,youknow,thelastthinghewore.Well,thewifefeelsrathersentimentalaboutit.”
“Ofcourse,”saidBunch.“Wouldyoulikemetohaveitcleanedfirst?I’mafraidit’srather—well—stained.”
“Oh,no,no,no,thatdoesn’tmatter.”
Bunchfrowned.“NowIwonderwhere…excusemeamoment.”Shewentupstairsanditwassomefewminutesbeforeshereturned.
“I’msosorry,”shesaidbreathlessly,“mydailywomanmusthaveputitasidewithotherclothesthatweregoingtothecleaners.It’stakenmequitealongtimetofindit.Hereitis.I’lldoitupforyouinbrownpaper.”
Disclaimingtheirprotestsshedidso;thenoncemoreeffusivelybiddingherfarewelltheEcclesesdeparted.
Bunchwentslowlybackacrossthehallandenteredthestudy.TheReverendJulianHarmonlookedupandhisbrowcleared.Hewascomposingasermonandwasfearingthathe’dbeenledastraybytheinterestofthepoliticalrelationsbetweenJudaeaandPersia,inthereignofCyrus.
“Yes,dear?”hesaidhopefully.
“Julian,”saidBunch.“What’sSanctuaryexactly?”
JulianHarmongratefullyputasidehissermonpaper.
“Well,”hesaid.“SanctuaryinRomanandGreektemplesappliedtothecellainwhichstoodthestatueofagod.TheLatinwordforaltar‘ara’alsomeansprotection.”Hecontinuedlearnedly:“Inthreehundredandninety-nineA.D.therightofsanctuaryinChristianchurcheswasfinallyanddefinitelyrecognized.TheearliestmentionoftherightofsanctuaryinEnglandisintheCodeofLawsissuedbyEthelbertinA.D.sixhundred….”
Hecontinuedforsometimewithhisexpositionbutwas,asoften,disconcertedbyhiswife’sreceptionofhiseruditepronouncement.
“Darling,”shesaid.“Youaresweet.”
Bendingover,shekissedhimonthetipofhisnose.Julianfeltratherlikeadogwhohasbeencongratulatedonperformingaclevertrick.
“TheEccleseshavebeenhere,”saidBunch.
Thevicarfrowned.“TheEccleses?Idon’tseemtoremember….”
“Youdon’tknowthem.They’rethesisterandherhusbandofthemaninthechurch.”
“Mydear,yououghttohavecalledme.”
“Therewasn’tanyneed,”saidBunch.“Theywerenotinneedofconsolation.Iwondernow….”Shefrowned.“IfIputacasseroleintheoventomorrow,canyoumanage,Julian?IthinkIshallgouptoLondonforthesales.”
“Thesails?”Herhusbandlookedatherblankly.“Doyoumeanayachtoraboatorsomething?”
Bunchlaughed.“No,darling.There’saspecialwhitesaleatBurrowsandPortman’s.Youknow,sheets,tableclothsandtowelsandglasscloths.Idon’tknowwhatwedowithourglasscloths,thewaytheywearthrough.Besides,”sheaddedthoughtfully,“IthinkIoughttogoandseeAuntJane.”
Thatsweetoldlady,MissJaneMarple,wasenjoyingthedelightsofthemetropolisforafortnight,comfortablyinstalledinhernephew’sstudioflat.
“SokindofdearRaymond,”shemurmured.“HeandJoanhavegonetoAmericaforafortnightandtheyinsistedIshouldcomeuphereandenjoymyself.Andnow,dearBunch,dotellmewhatitisthat’sworryingyou.”
BunchwasMissMarple’sfavouritegodchild,andtheoldladylookedatherwithgreataffectionasBunch,thrustingherbestfelthatfartheronthebackofherhead,startedherstory.
Bunch’srecitalwasconciseandclear.MissMarplenoddedherheadasBunchfinished.“Isee,”shesaid.“Yes,Isee.”
“That’swhyIfeltIhadtoseeyou,”saidBunch.“Yousee,notbeingclever—”
“Butyouareclever,mydear.”
“No,I’mnot.NotcleverlikeJulian.”
“Julian,ofcourse,hasaverysolidintellect,”saidMissMarple.
“That’sit,”saidBunch.“Julian’sgottheintellect,butontheotherhand,I’vegotthesense.”
“Youhavealotofcommonsense,Bunch,andyou’reveryintelligent.”
“Yousee,Idon’treallyknowwhatIoughttodo.Ican’taskJulianbecause—well,Imean,Julian’ssofullofrectitude….”
ThisstatementappearedtobeperfectlyunderstoodbyMissMarple,whosaid,“Iknowwhatyoumean,dear.Wewomen—well,it’sdifferent.”Shewenton.“Youtoldmewhathappened,Bunch,butI’dliketoknowfirstexactlywhatyouthink.”
“It’sallwrong,”saidBunch.“Themanwhowasthereinthechurch,dying,knewallaboutSanctuary.HesaiditjustthewayJulianwouldhavesaidit.Imean,hewasawell-read,educatedman.Andifhe’dshothimself,hewouldn’tdraghimselftoachurchafterwardsandsay‘sanctuary.’Sanctuarymeansthatyou’repursued,andwhenyougetintoachurchyou’resafe.Yourpursuerscan’ttouchyou.Atonetimeeventhelawcouldn’tgetatyou.”
ShelookedquestioninglyatMissMarple.Thelatternodded.Bunchwenton.“Thosepeople,theEccleses,werequitedifferent.Ignorantandcoarse.Andthere’sanotherthing.Thatwatch—thedeadman’swatch.IthadtheinitialsW.S.onthebackofit.Butinside—Iopenedit—inverysmallletteringtherewas‘ToWalterfromhisfather’andadate.Walter.ButtheEccleseskepttalkingofhimasWilliamorBill.”
MissMarpleseemedabouttospeakbutBunchrushedon.“Oh,Iknowyou’renotalwayscalledthenameyou’rebaptizedby.Imean,IcanunderstandthatyoumightbechristenedWilliamandcalled‘Porgy’or‘Carrots’orsomething.Butyoursisterwouldn’tcallyouWilliamorBillifyournamewasWalter.”
“Youmeanthatshewasn’thissister?”
“I’mquitesureshewasn’thissister.Theywerehorrid—bothofthem.Theycametothevicaragetogethisthingsandtofindoutifhe’dsaidanythingbeforehedied.WhenIsaidhehadn’tIsawitintheirfaces—relief.Ithinkmyself,”finishedBunch,“itwasEccleswhoshothim.”
“Murder?”saidMissMarple.
“Yes,”saidBunch.“Murder.That’swhyIcametoyou,darling.”
Bunch’sremarkmighthaveseemedincongruoustoanignorantlistener,butincertainspheresMissMarplehadareputationfordealingwithmurder.
“Hesaid‘please’tomebeforehedied,”saidBunch.“Hewantedmetodosomethingforhim.TheawfulthingisI’venoideawhat.”
MissMarpleconsideredforamomentortwo,andthenpouncedonthepointthathadalreadyoccurredtoBunch.“Butwhywashethereatall?”sheasked.
“Youmean,”saidBunch,“ifyouwantedsanctuaryyoumightpopintoachurchanywhere.There’snoneedtotakeabusthatonlygoesfourtimesadayandcomeouttoalonelyspotlikeoursforit.”
“Hemusthavecomethereforapurpose,”MissMarplethought.“Hemusthavecometoseesomeone.ChippingCleghorn’snotabigplace,Bunch.Surelyyoumusthavesomeideaofwhoitwashecametosee?”
Bunchreviewedtheinhabitantsofhervillageinhermindbeforeratherdoubtfullyshakingherhead.“Inaway,”shesaid,“itcouldbeanybody.”
“Henevermentionedaname?”
“HesaidJulian,orIthoughthesaidJulian.ItmighthavebeenJulia,Isuppose.AsfarasIknow,thereisn’tanyJulialivinginChippingCleghorn.”
Shescreweduphereyesasshethoughtbacktothescene.Themanlyingthereonthechancelsteps,thelightcomingthroughthewindowwithitsjewelsofredandbluelight.
“Jewels,”saidMissMarplethoughtfully.
“I’mcomingnow,”saidBunch,“tothemostimportantthingofall.ThereasonwhyI’vereallycomeheretoday.Yousee,theEcclesesmadeagreatfussabouthavinghiscoat.Wetookitoffwhenthedoctorwasseeinghim.Itwasanold,shabbysortofcoat—therewasnoreasontheyshouldhavewantedit.Theypretendeditwassentimental,butthatwasnonsense.
“Anyway,Iwentuptofindit,andasIwasjustgoingupthestairsIrememberedhowhe’dmadeakindofpickinggesturewithhishand,asthoughhewasfumblingwiththecoat.SowhenIgotholdofthecoatIlookedatitverycarefullyandIsawthatinoneplacethelininghadbeensewnupagainwithadifferentthread.SoIunpickeditandIfoundalittlepieceofpaperinside.ItookitoutandIseweditupagainproperlywiththreadthatmatched.IwascarefulandIdon’treallythinkthattheEccleseswouldknowI’vedoneit.Idon’tthinkso,butIcan’tbesure.AndItookthecoatdowntothemandmadesomeexcuseforthedelay.”
“Thepieceofpaper?”askedMissMarple.
Bunchopenedherhandbag.“Ididn’tshowittoJulian,”shesaid,“becausehewouldhavesaidthatIoughttohavegivenittotheEccleses.ButIthoughtI’dratherbringittoyouinstead.”
“Acloakroomticket,”saidMissMarple,lookingatit.“PaddingtonStation.”
“HehadareturntickettoPaddingtoninhispocket,”saidBunch.
Theeyesofthetwowomenmet.
“Thiscallsforaction,”saidMissMarplebriskly.“Butitwouldbeadvisable,Ithink,tobecareful.Wouldyouhavenoticedatall,Bunchdear,whetheryouwerefollowedwhenyoucametoLondontoday?”
“Followed!”exclaimedBunch.“Youdon’tthink—”
“Well,Ithinkit’spossible,”saidMissMarple.“Whenanythingispossible,Ithinkweoughttotakeprecautions.”Sherosewithabriskmovement.“Youcameuphereostensibly,mydear,togotothesales.Ithinktherightthingtodo,therefore,wouldbeforustogotothesales.Butbeforewesetout,wemightputoneortwolittlearrangementsinhand.Idon’tsuppose,”MissMarpleaddedobscurely,“thatIshallneedtheoldspeckledtweedwiththebeavercollarjustatpresent.”
Itwasaboutanhourandahalflaterthatthetwoladies,rathertheworseforwearandbatteredinappearance,andbothclaspingparcelsofhardly-wonhouseholdlinen,satdownatasmallandsequesteredhostelrycalledtheAppleBoughtorestoretheirforceswithsteakandkidneypuddingfollowedbyappletartandcustard.
“Reallyaprewarqualityfacetowel,”gaspedMissMarple,slightlyoutofbreath.“WithaJonit,too.SofortunatethatRaymond’swife’snameisJoan.IshallputthemasideuntilIreallyneedthemandthentheywilldoforherifIpassonsoonerthanIexpect.”
“Ireallydidneedtheglasscloths,”saidBunch.“Andtheywereverycheap,thoughnotascheapastheonesthatwomanwiththegingerhairmanagedtosnatchfromme.”
AsmartyoungwomanwithalavishapplicationofrougeandlipstickenteredtheAppleBoughatthatmoment.Afterlookingaroundvaguelyforamomentortwo,shehurriedtotheirtable.ShelaiddownanenvelopebyMissMarple’selbow.
“Thereyouare,miss,”shesaidbriskly.
“Oh,thankyou,Gladys,”saidMissMarple.“Thankyouverymuch.Sokindofyou.”
“Alwayspleasedtooblige,I’msure,”saidGladys.“Erniealwayssaystome,‘Everythingwhat’sgoodyoulearnedfromthatMissMarpleofyoursthatyouwereinservicewith,’andI’msureI’malwaysgladtoobligeyou,miss.”
“Suchadeargirl,”saidMissMarpleasGladysdepartedagain.“Alwayssowillingandsokind.”
ShelookedinsidetheenvelopeandthenpasseditontoBunch.“Nowbeverycareful,dear,”shesaid.“Bytheway,istherestillthatniceyounginspectoratMelchesterthatIremember?”
“Idon’tknow,”saidBunch.“Iexpectso.”
“Well,ifnot,”saidMissMarplethoughtfully.“IcanalwaysringuptheChiefConstable.Ithinkhewouldrememberme.”
“Ofcoursehe’drememberyou,”saidBunch.“Everybodywouldrememberyou.You’requiteunique.”Sherose.
ArrivedatPaddington,Bunchwenttotheluggageofficeandproducedthecloakroomticket.Amomentortwolaterarathershabbyoldsuitcasewaspassedacrosstoher,andcarryingthisshemadeherwaytotheplatform.
Thejourneyhomewasuneventful.BunchroseasthetrainapproachedChippingCleghornandpickeduptheoldsuitcase.Shehadjustlefthercarriagewhenaman,sprintingalongtheplatform,suddenlyseizedthesuitcasefromherhandandrushedoffwithit.
“Stop!”Bunchyelled.“Stophim,stophim.He’stakenmysuitcase.”
Theticketcollectorwho,atthisruralstation,wasamanofsomewhatslowprocesses,hadjustbeguntosay,“Now,lookhere,youcan’tdothat—”whenasmartblowonthechestpushedhimaside,andthemanwiththesuitcaserushedoutfromthestation.Hemadehiswaytowardsawaitingcar.Tossingthesuitcasein,hewasabouttoclimbafterit,butbeforehecouldmoveahandfellonhisshoulder,andthevoiceofPoliceConstableAbelsaid,“Nowthen,what’sallthis?”
Buncharrived,panting,fromthestation.“Hesnatchedmysuitcase.Ijustgotoutofthetrainwithit.”
“Nonsense,”saidtheman.“Idon’tknowwhatthisladymeans.It’smysuitcase.Ijustgotoutofthetrainwithit.”
HelookedatBunchwithabovineandimpartialstare.NobodywouldhaveguessedthatPoliceConstableAbelandMrs.HarmonspentlonghalfhoursinPoliceConstableAbel’soff-timediscussingtherespectivemeritsofmanureandbonemealforrosebushes.
“Yousay,madam,thatthisisyoursuitcase?”saidPoliceConstableAbel.
“Yes,”saidBunch.“Definitely.”
“Andyou,sir?”
“Isaythissuitcaseismine.”
Themanwastall,darkandwell-dressed,withadrawlingvoiceandasuperiormanner.Afemininevoicefrominsidethecarsaid,“Ofcourseit’syoursuitcase,Edwin.Idon’tknowwhatthiswomanmeans.”
“We’llhavetogetthisclear,”saidPoliceConstableAbel.“Ifit’syoursuitcase,madam,whatdoyousayisinsideit?”
“Clothes,”saidBunch.“Alongspeckledcoatwithabeavercollar,twowooljumpersandapairofshoes.”
“Well,that’sclearenough,”saidPoliceConstableAbel.Heturnedtotheother.
“Iamatheatricalcostumer,”saidthedarkmanimportantly.“ThissuitcasecontainstheatricalpropertieswhichIbroughtdownhereforanamateurperformance.”
“Right,sir,”saidPoliceConstableAbel.“Well,we’lljustlookinside,shallwe,andsee?Wecangoalongtothepolicestation,orifyou’reinahurrywe’lltakethesuitcasebacktothestationandopenitthere.”
“It’llsuitme,”saidthedarkman.“MynameisMoss,bytheway,EdwinMoss.”
Thepoliceconstable,holdingthesuitcase,wentbackintothestation.“Justtakingthisintotheparcelsoffice,George,”hesaidtotheticketcollector.
PoliceConstableAbellaidthesuitcaseonthecounteroftheparcelsofficeandpushedbacktheclasp.Thecasewasnotlocked.BunchandMr.EdwinMossstoodoneithersideofhim,theireyesregardingeachothervengefully.
“Ah!”saidPoliceConstableAbel,ashepushedupthelid.
Inside,neatlyfolded,wasalongrathershabbytweedcoatwithabeaverfurcollar.Therewerealsotwowooljumpersandapairofcountryshoes.
“Exactlyasyousay,madam,”saidPoliceConstableAbel,turningtoBunch.
NobodycouldhavesaidthatMr.EdwinMossunderdidthings.Hisdismayandcompunctionweremagnificent.
“Idoapologize,”hesaid.“Ireallydoapologize.Pleasebelieveme,dearlady,whenItellyouhowvery,verysorryIam.Unpardonable—quiteunpardonable—mybehaviourhasbeen.”Helookedathiswatch.“Imustrushnow.Probablymysuitcasehasgoneonthetrain.”Raisinghishatoncemore,hesaidmeltinglytoBunch,“Do,doforgiveme,”andrushedhurriedlyoutoftheparcelsoffice.
“Areyougoingtolethimgetaway?”askedBunchinaconspiratorialwhispertoPoliceConstableAbel.
Thelatterslowlyclosedabovineeyeinawink.
“Hewon’tgettoofar,ma’am,”hesaid.“That’stosayhewon’tgetfarunobserved,ifyoutakemymeaning.”
“Oh,”saidBunch,relieved.
“Thatoldlady’sbeenonthephone,”saidPoliceConstableAbel,“theoneaswasdownhereafewyearsago.Brightsheis,isn’tshe?Butthere’sbeenalotcookingupalltoday.Shouldn’twonderiftheinspectororsergeantwasouttoseeyouaboutittomorrowmorning.”
Itwastheinspectorwhocame,theInspectorCraddockwhomMissMarpleremembered.HegreetedBunchwithasmileasanoldfriend.
“CrimeinChippingCleghornagain,”hesaidcheerfully.“Youdon’tlackforsensationhere,doyou,Mrs.Harmon?”
“Icoulddowithratherless,”saidBunch.“Haveyoucometoaskmequestionsorareyougoingtotellmethingsforachange?”
“I’lltellyousomethingsfirst,”saidtheinspector.“Tobeginwith,Mr.andMrs.Eccleshavebeenhavinganeyekeptonthemforsometime.There’sreasontobelievethey’vebeenconnectedwithseveralrobberiesinthispartoftheworld.Foranotherthing,althoughMrs.EccleshasabrothercalledSandbournewhohasrecentlycomebackfromabroad,themanyoufounddyinginthechurchyesterdaywasdefinitelynotSandbourne.”
“Iknewthathewasn’t,”saidBunch.“HisnamewasWalter,tobeginwith,notWilliam.”
Theinspectornodded.“HisnamewasWalterSt.John,andheescapedforty-eighthoursagofromCharringtonPrison.”
“Ofcourse,”saidBunchsoftlytoherself,“hewasbeinghunteddownbythelaw,andhetooksanctuary.”Thensheasked,“Whathadhedone?”
“I’llhavetogobackratheralongway.It’sacomplicatedstory.Severalyearsagotherewasacertaindancerdoingturnsatthemusichalls.Idon’texpectyou’llhaveeverheardofher,butshespecializedinanArabianNightturn,‘AladdinintheCaveofJewels’itwascalled.Sheworebitsofrhinestoneandnotmuchelse.
“Shewasn’tmuchofadancer,Ibelieve,butshewas—well—attractive.Anyway,acertainAsiaticroyaltyfellforherinabigway.Amongstotherthingshegaveheraverymagnificentemeraldnecklace.”
“ThehistoricjewelsofaRajah?”murmuredBunchecstatically.
InspectorCraddockcoughed.“Well,arathermoremodernversion,Mrs.Harmon.Theaffairdidn’tlastverylong,brokeupwhenourpotentate’sattentionwascapturedbyacertainfilmstarwhosedemandswerenotquitesomodest.
“Zobeida,togivethedancerherstagename,hungontothenecklace,andinduecourseitwasstolen.Itdisappearedfromherdressingroomatthetheatre,andtherewasalingeringsuspicioninthemindsoftheauthoritiesthatsheherselfmighthaveengineereditsdisappearance.Suchthingshavebeenknownasapublicitystunt,orindeedfrommoredishonestmotives.
“Thenecklacewasneverrecovered,butduringthecourseoftheinvestigationtheattentionofthepolicewasdrawntothisman,WalterSt.John.Hewasamanofeducationandbreedingwhohadcomedownintheworld,andwhowasemployedasaworkingjewellerwitharatherobscurefirmwhichwassuspectedofactingasafenceforjewelrobberies.
“Therewasevidencethatthisnecklacehadpassedthroughhishands.Itwas,however,inconnectionwiththetheftofsomeotherjewellerythathewasfinallybroughttotrialandconvictedandsenttoprison.Hehadnotverymuchlongertoserve,sohisescapewasratherasurprise.”
“Butwhydidhecomehere?”askedBunch.
“We’dliketoknowthatverymuch,Mrs.Harmon.Followinguphistrial,itseemsthathewentfirsttoLondon.Hedidn’tvisitanyofhisoldassociatesbuthevisitedanelderlywoman,aMrs.Jacobswhohadformerlybeenatheatricaldresser.Shewon’tsayawordofwhathecamefor,butaccordingtootherlodgersinthehouseheleftcarryingasuitcase.”
“Isee,”saidBunch.“HeleftitinthecloakroomatPaddingtonandthenhecamedownhere.”
“Bythattime,”saidInspectorCraddock,“EcclesandthemanwhocallshimselfEdwinMosswereonhistrail.Theywantedthatsuitcase.Theysawhimgetonthebus.Theymusthavedrivenoutinacaraheadofhimandbeenwaitingforhimwhenheleftthebus.”
“Andhewasmurdered?”saidBunch.
“Yes,”saidCraddock.“Hewasshot.ItwasEccles’srevolver,butIratherfancyitwasMosswhodidtheshooting.Now,Mrs.Harmon,whatwewanttoknowis,whereisthesuitcasethatWalterSt.JohnactuallydepositedatPaddingtonStation?”
Bunchgrinned.“IexpectAuntJane’sgotitbynow,”shesaid.“MissMarple,Imean.Thatwasherplan.ShesentaformermaidofherswithasuitcasepackedwithherthingstothecloakroomatPaddingtonandweexchangedtickets.Icollectedhersuitcaseandbroughtitdownbytrain.Sheseemedtoexpectthatanattemptwouldbemadetogetitfromme.”
ItwasInspectorCraddock’sturntogrin.“Soshesaidwhensherangup.I’mdrivinguptoLondontoseeher.Doyouwanttocome,too,Mrs.Harmon?”
“Wel-l,”saidBunch,considering.“Wel-l,asamatteroffact,it’sveryfortunate.IhadatoothachelastnightsoIreallyoughttogotoLondontoseethedentist,oughtn’tI?”
“Definitely,”saidInspectorCraddock
MissMarplelookedfromInspectorCraddock’sfacetotheeagerfaceofBunchHarmon.Thesuitcaselayonthetable.“Ofcourse,Ihaven’topenedit,”theoldladysaid.“Iwouldn’tdreamofdoingsuchathingtillsomebodyofficialarrived.Besides,”sheadded,withademurelymischievousVictoriansmile,“it’slocked.”
“Liketomakeaguessatwhat’sinside,MissMarple?”askedtheinspector.
“Ishouldimagine,youknow,”saidMissMarple,“thatitwouldbeZobeida’stheatricalcostumes.Wouldyoulikeachisel,Inspector?”
Thechiselsoondiditswork.Bothwomengaveaslightgaspasthelidflewup.Thesunlightcomingthroughthewindowlitupwhatseemedlikeaninexhaustibletreasureofsparklingjewels,red,blue,green,orange.
“Aladdin’sCave,”saidMissMarple.“Theflashingjewelsthegirlworetodance.”
“Ah,”saidInspectorCraddock.“Now,what’ssopreciousaboutit,doyouthink,thatamanwasmurderedtogetholdofit?”
“Shewasashrewdgirl,Iexpect,”saidMissMarplethoughtfully.“She’sdead,isn’tshe,Inspector?”
“Yes,diedthreeyearsago.”
“Shehadthisvaluableemeraldnecklace,”saidMissMarple,musingly.“Hadthestonestakenoutoftheirsettingandfastenedhereandthereonhertheatricalcostume,whereeveryonewouldtakethemformerelycolouredrhinestones.Thenshehadareplicamadeoftherealnecklace,andthat,ofcourse,waswhatwasstolen.Nowonderitnevercameonthemarket.Thethiefsoondiscoveredthestoneswerefalse.”
“Hereisanenvelope,”saidBunch,pullingasidesomeoftheglitteringstones.
InspectorCraddocktookitfromherandextractedtwoofficial-lookingpapersfromit.Hereadaloud,“‘MarriageCertificatebetweenWalterEdmundSt.JohnandMaryMoss.’ThatwasZobeida’srealname.”
“Sotheyweremarried,”saidMissMarple.“Isee.”
“What’stheother?”askedBunch.
“Abirthcertificateofadaughter,Jewel.”
“Jewel?”criedBunch.“Why,ofcourse.Jewel!Jill!That’sit.IseenowwhyhecametoChippingCleghorn.That’swhathewastryingtosaytome.Jewel.TheMundys,youknow.LaburnumCottage.Theylookafteralittlegirlforsomeone.They’redevotedtoher.She’sbeenliketheirowngranddaughter.Yes,Iremembernow,hernamewasJewel,only,ofcourse,theycallherJill.
“Mrs.Mundyhadastrokeaboutaweekago,andtheoldman’sbeenveryillwithpneumonia.Theywerebothgoingtogototheinfirmary.I’vebeentryinghardtofindagoodhomeforJillsomewhere.Ididn’twanthertakenawaytoaninstitution.
“Isupposeherfatherheardaboutitinprisonandhemanagedtobreakawayandgetholdofthissuitcasefromtheolddresserheorhiswifeleftitwith.Isupposeifthejewelsreallybelongedtohermother,theycanbeusedforthechildnow.”
“Ishouldimagineso,Mrs.Harmon.Ifthey’rehere.”
“Oh,they’llbehereallright,”saidMissMarplecheerfully….
“Thankgoodnessyou’reback,dear,”saidtheReverendJulianHarmon,greetinghiswifewithaffectionandasighofcontent.“Mrs.Burtalwaystriestodoherbestwhenyou’reaway,butshereallygavemesomeverypeculiarfish-cakesforlunch.Ididn’twanttohurtherfeelingssoIgavethemtoTiglathPileser,butevenhewouldn’teatthemsoIhadtothrowthemoutofthewindow.”
“TiglathPileser,”saidBunch,strokingthevicaragecat,whowaspurringagainstherknee,“isveryparticularaboutwhatfishheeats.Ioftentellhimhe’sgotaproudstomach!”
“Andyourtooth,dear?Didyouhaveitseento?”
“Yes,”saidBunch.“Itdidn’thurtmuch,andIwenttoseeAuntJaneagain,too….”
“Dearoldthing,”saidJulian.“Ihopeshe’snotfailingatall.”
“Notintheleast,”saidBunch,withagrin.
ThefollowingmorningBunchtookafreshsupplyofchrysanthemumstothechurch.Thesunwasoncemorepouringthroughtheeastwindow,andBunchstoodinthejewelledlightonthechancelsteps.Shesaidverysoftlyunderherbreath,“Yourlittlegirlwillbeallright.I’llseethatsheis.Ipromise.”
Thenshetidiedupthechurch,slippedintoapewandkneltforafewmomentstosayherprayersbeforereturningtothevicaragetoattackthepiled-upchoresoftwoneglecteddays.
AbouttheAuthor
AgathaChristieisthemostwidelypublishedauthorofalltimeandinanylanguage,outsoldonlybytheBibleandShakespeare.HerbookshavesoldmorethanabillioncopiesinEnglishandanotherbillioninahundredforeignlanguages.Sheistheauthorofeightycrimenovelsandshort-storycollections,nineteenplays,twomemoirs,andsixnovelswrittenunderthenameMaryWestmacott.
ShefirsttriedherhandatdetectivefictionwhileworkinginahospitaldispensaryduringWorldWarI,creatingthenowlegendaryHerculePoirotwithherdebutnovelTheMysteriousAffairatStyles.WithTheMurderintheVicarage,publishedin1930,sheintroducedanotherbelovedsleuth,MissJaneMarple.Additionalseriescharactersincludethehusband-and-wifecrime-fightingteamofTommyandTuppenceBeresford,privateinvestigatorParkerPyne,andScotlandYarddetectivesSuperintendentBattleandInspectorJapp.
ManyofChristie’snovelsandshortstorieswereadaptedintoplays,films,andtelevisionseries.TheMousetrap,hermostfamousplayofall,openedin1952andisthelongest-runningplayinhistory.Amongherbest-knownfilmadaptationsareMurderontheOrientExpress(1974)andDeathontheNile(1978),withAlbertFinneyandPeterUstinovplayingHerculePoirot,respectively.OnthesmallscreenPoirothasbeenmostmemorablyportrayedbyDavidSuchet,andMissMarplebyJoanHicksonandsubsequentlyGeraldineMcEwanandJuliaMcKenzie.
ChristiewasfirstmarriedtoArchibaldChristieandthentoarchaeologistSirMaxMallowan,whomsheaccompaniedonexpeditionstocountriesthatwouldalsoserveasthesettingsformanyofhernovels.In1971sheachievedoneofBritain’shighesthonorswhenshewasmadeaDameoftheBritishEmpire.Shediedin1976attheageofeighty-five.Heronehundredandtwentiethanniversarywascelebratedaroundtheworldin2010.
Visitwww.AuthorTracker.comforexclusiveinformationonyourfavoriteHarperCollinsauthors.
www.AgathaChristie.com
THEAGATHACHRISTIECOLLECTION
TheManintheBrownSuit
TheSecretofChimneys
TheSevenDialsMystery
TheMysteriousMr.Quin
TheSittafordMystery
ParkerPyneInvestigates
WhyDidn’tTheyAskEvans?
MurderIsEasy
TheRegattaMysteryandOtherStories
AndThenThereWereNone
TowardsZero
DeathComesastheEnd
SparklingCyanide
TheWitnessfortheProsecutionandOtherStories
CrookedHouse
ThreeBlindMiceandOtherStories
TheyCametoBaghdad
DestinationUnknown
OrdealbyInnocence
DoubleSinandOtherStories
ThePaleHorse
StaroverBethlehem:PoemsandHolidayStories
EndlessNight
PassengertoFrankfurt
TheGoldenBallandOtherStories
TheMousetrapandOtherPlays
TheHarlequinTeaSetandOtherStories
TheHerculePoirotMysteries
TheMysteriousAffairatStyles
TheMurderontheLinks
PoirotInvestigates
TheMurderofRogerAckroyd
TheBigFour
TheMysteryoftheBlueTrain
PerilatEndHouse
LordEdgwareDies
MurderontheOrientExpress
ThreeActTragedy
DeathintheClouds
TheA.B.C.Murders
MurderinMesopotamia
CardsontheTable
MurderintheMews
DumbWitness
DeathontheNile
AppointmentwithDeath
HerculePoirot’sChristmas
SadCypress
One,Two,BuckleMyShoe
EvilUndertheSun
FiveLittlePigs
TheHollow
TheLaborsofHercules
TakenattheFlood
TheUnderDogandOtherStories
Mrs.McGinty’sDead
AftertheFuneral
HickoryDickoryDock
DeadMan’sFolly
CatAmongthePigeons
TheClocks
ThirdGirl
Hallowe’enParty
ElephantsCanRemember
Curtain:Poirot’sLastCase
TheMissMarpleMysteries
TheMurderattheVicarage
TheBodyintheLibrary
TheMovingFinger
AMurderIsAnnounced
TheyDoItwithMirrors
APocketFullofRye
4:50fromPaddington
TheMirrorCrack’dfromSidetoSide
ACaribbeanMystery
AtBertram’sHotel
Nemesis
SleepingMurder
MissMarple:TheCompleteShortStories
TheTommyandTuppenceMysteries
TheSecretAdversary
PartnersinCrime
NorM?
BythePrickingofMyThumbs
PosternofFate
Memoirs
AnAutobiography
Come,TellMeHowYouLive
Copyright
Thisbookisaworkoffiction.Thecharacters,incidents,anddialoguearedrawnfromtheauthor’simaginationandarenottobeconstruedasreal.Anyresemblancetoactualeventsorpersons,livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.
AGATHACHRISTIE?DOUBLESINANDOTHERSTORIES?.Copyright?1961AgathaChristieLimited.Allrightsreserved.
DOUBLESINANDOTHERSTORIES?1961.PublishedbypermissionofG.P.