Poirot’s Early Cases

Poirot’sEarlyCasesContents
AboutAgathaChristieTheAgathaChristieCollectionE-bookExtraTheAffairattheVictoryBallTheAdventureoftheClaphamCookTheCornishMysteryTheAdventureofJohnnieWaverlyTheDoubleClueTheKingofClubsTheLemesurierInheritanceTheLostMineThePlymouthExpressTheChocolateBoxTheSubmarinePlansTheThird-FloorFlatDoubleSinTheMarketBasingMysteryWasps’NestTheVeiledLadyProblematSeaHowDoesYourGardenGrow?
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TheAffairattheVictoryBall
I
PurechanceledmyfriendHerculePoirot,formerlychiefoftheBelgianforce,tobeconnectedwiththeStylesCase.Hissuccessbroughthimnotoriety,andhedecidedtodevotehimselftothesolvingofproblemsincrime.HavingbeenwoundedontheSommeandinvalidedoutoftheArmy,IfinallytookupmyquarterswithhiminLondon.SinceIhaveafirst-handknowledgeofmostofhiscases,ithasbeensuggestedtomethatIselectsomeofthemostinterestingandplacethemonrecord.Indoingso,IfeelthatIcannotdobetterthanbeginwiththatstrangetanglewhicharousedsuchwidespreadpublicinterestatthetime.IrefertotheaffairattheVictoryBall.
AlthoughperhapsitisnotsofullydemonstrativeofPoirot’speculiarmethodsassomeofthemoreobscurecases,itssensationalfeatures,thewell-knownpeopleinvolved,andthetremendouspublicitygivenitbythePress,makeitstandoutasacausecélèbreandIhavelongfeltthatitisonlyfittingthatPoirot’sconnectionwiththesolutionshouldbegiventotheworld
Itwasafinemorninginspring,andweweresittinginPoirot’srooms.Mylittlefriend,neatanddapperasever,hisegg-shapedheadtiltedononeside,wasdelicatelyapplyinganewpomadetohismoustache.AcertainharmlessvanitywasacharacteristicofPoirot’sandfellintolinewithhisgeneralloveoforderandmethod.TheDailyNewsmonger,whichIhadbeenreading,hadslippedtothefloor,andIwasdeepinabrownstudywhenPoirot’svoicerecalledme.
‘Ofwhatareyouthinkingsodeeply,monami?’
‘Totellyouthetruth,’Ireplied,‘IwaspuzzlingoverthisunaccountableaffairattheVictoryBall.Thepapersarefullofit.’ItappedthesheetwithmyfingerasIspoke.
‘Yes?’
‘Themoreonereadsofit,themoreshroudedinmysterythewholethingbecomes!’Iwarmedtomysubject.‘WhokilledLordCronshaw?WasCocoCourtenay’sdeathonthesamenightamerecoincidence?Wasitanaccident?Ordidshedeliberatelytakeanoverdoseofcocaine?’Istopped,andthenaddeddramatically:‘ThesearethequestionsIaskmyself.’
Poirot,somewhattomyannoyance,didnotplayup.Hewaspeeringintotheglass,andmerelymurmured:‘Decidedly,thisnewpomade,itisamarvelforthemoustaches!’Catchingmyeye,however,headdedhastily:‘Quiteso—andhowdoyoureplytoyourquestions?’
ButbeforeIcouldanswer,thedooropened,andourlandladyannouncedInspectorJapp.
TheScotlandYardmanwasanoldfriendofoursandwegreetedhimwarmly.
‘Ah,mygoodJapp,’criedPoirot,‘andwhatbringsyoutoseeus?’
‘Well,MonsieurPoirot,’saidJapp,seatinghimselfandnoddingtome,‘I’monacasethatstrikesmeasbeingverymuchinyourline,andIcamealongtoknowwhetheryou’dcaretohaveafingerinthepie?’
PoirothadagoodopinionofJapp’sabilities,thoughdeploringhislamentablelackofmethod,butI,formypart,consideredthatthedetective’shighesttalentlayinthegentleartofseekingfavoursundertheguiseofconferringthem!
‘It’stheVictoryBall,’saidJapppersuasively.‘Come,now,you’dliketohaveahandinthat.’
Poirotsmiledatme.
‘MyfriendHastingswould,atallevents.Hewasjustholdingforthonthesubject,n’est-cepas,monami?’
‘Well,sir,’saidJappcondescendingly,‘youshallbeinittoo.Icantellyou,it’ssomethingofafeatherinyourcaptohaveinsideknowledgeofacaselikethis.Well,here’stobusiness.Youknowthemainfactsofthecase,Isuppose,MonsieurPoirot?’
‘Fromthepapersonly—andtheimaginationofthejournalistissometimesmisleading.Recountthewholestorytome.’
Jappcrossedhislegscomfortablyandbegan.
‘Asalltheworldandhiswifeknows,onTuesdaylastagrandVictoryBallwasheld.Everytwopenny-halfpennyhopcallsitselfthatnowadays,butthiswastherealthing,heldattheColossusHall,andallLondonatit—includingyourLordCronshawandhisparty.’
‘Hisdossier?’interruptedPoirot.‘Ishouldsayhisbioscope—no,howdoyoucallit—biograph?’
‘ViscountCronshawwasfifthviscount,twenty-fiveyearsofage,rich,unmarried,andveryfondofthetheatricalworld.TherewererumoursofhisbeingengagedtoMissCourtenayoftheAlbanyTheatre,whowasknowntoherfriendsas“Coco”andwhowas,byallaccounts,averyfascinatingyounglady.’
‘Good.Continuez!’
‘LordCronshaw’spartyconsistedofsixpeople:hehimself,hisuncle,theHonourableEustaceBeltane,aprettyAmericanwidow,MrsMallaby,ayoungactor,ChrisDavidson,hiswife,andlastbutnotleast,MissCocoCourtenay.Itwasafancydressball,asyouknow,andtheCronshawpartyrepresentedtheoldItalianComedy—whateverthatmaybe.’
‘TheCommediadell’Arte,’murmuredPoirot.‘Iknow.’
‘Anyway,thecostumeswerecopiedfromasetofchinafiguresformingpartofEustaceBeltane’scollection.LordCronshawwasHarlequin;BeltanewasPunchinello;MrsMallabymatchedhimasPulcinella;theDavidsonswerePierrotandPierette;andMissCourtenay,ofcourse,wasColumbine.Now,quiteearlyintheeveningitwasapparentthattherewassomethingwrong.LordCronshawwasmoodyandstrangeinhismanner.Whenthepartymettogetherforsupperinasmallprivateroomengagedbythehost,everyonenoticedthatheandMissCourtenaywerenolongeronspeakingterms.Shehadobviouslybeencrying,andseemedonthevergeofhysterics.Themealwasanuncomfortableone,andastheyallleftthesupper-room,sheturnedtoChrisDavidsonandrequestedhimaudiblytotakeherhome,asshewas“sickoftheball”.Theyoungactorhesitated,glancingatLordCronshaw,andfinallydrewthembothbacktothesupper-room.
‘Butallhiseffortstosecureareconciliationwereunavailing,andheaccordinglygotataxiandescortedthenowweepingMissCourtenaybacktoherflat.Althoughobviouslyverymuchupset,shedidnotconfideinhim,merelyreiteratingagainandagainthatshewould“makeoldCronchsorryforthis!”Thatistheonlyhintwehavethatherdeathmightnothavebeenaccidental,andit’spreciouslittletogoupon.BythetimeDavidsonhadquietedherdownsomewhat,itwastoolatetoreturntotheColossusHall,andDavidsonaccordinglywentstraighthometohisflatinChelsea,wherehiswifearrivedshortlyafterwards,bearingthenewsoftheterribletragedythathadoccurredafterhisdeparture.
‘LordCronshaw,itseems,becamemoreandmoremoodyastheballwenton.Hekeptawayfromhisparty,andtheyhardlysawhimduringtherestoftheevening.Itwasaboutone-thirtya.m.,justbeforethegrandcotillionwheneveryonewastounmask,thatCaptainDigby,abrotherofficerwhoknewhisdisguise,noticedhimstandinginaboxgazingdownonthescene.
‘“Hullo,Cronch!”hecalled.“Comedownandbesociable!Whatareyoumopingaboutupthereforlikeaboiledowl?Comealong;there’sagoodoldragcomingonnow.”
‘“Right!”respondedCronshaw.“Waitforme,orI’llneverfindyouinthecrowd.”
‘Heturnedandlefttheboxashespoke.CaptainDigby,whohadMrsDavidsonwithhim,waited.Theminutespassed,butLordCronshawdidnotappear.FinallyDigbygrewimpatient.
‘“Doesthefellowthinkwe’regoingtowaitallnightforhim?”heexclaimed.
‘AtthatmomentMrsMallabyjoinedthem,andtheyexplainedthesituation.
‘“Say,now,”criedtheprettywidowvivaciously,“he’slikeabearwithasoreheadtonight.Let’sgorightawayandrouthimout.”
‘Thesearchcommenced,butmetwithnosuccessuntilitoccurredtoMrsMallabythathemightpossiblybefoundintheroomwheretheyhadsuppedanhourearlier.Theymadetheirwaythere.Whatasightmettheireyes!TherewasHarlequin,sureenough,butstretchedonthegroundwithatable-knifeinhisheart!’
Jappstopped,andPoirotnodded,andsaidwiththerelishofthespecialist:‘Unebelleaffaire!Andtherewasnoclueastotheperpetratorofthedeed?Buthowshouldtherebe!’
‘Well,’continuedtheinspector,‘youknowtherest.Thetragedywasadoubleone.Nextdaytherewereheadlinesinallthepapers,andabriefstatementtotheeffectthatMissCourtenay,thepopularactress,hadbeendiscovereddeadinherbed,andthatherdeathwasduetoanoverdoseofcocaine.Now,wasitaccidentorsuicide?Hermaid,whowascalledupontogiveevidence,admittedthatMissCourtenaywasaconfirmedtakerofthedrug,andaverdictofaccidentaldeathwasreturned.Neverthelesswecan’tleavethepossibilityofsuicideoutofaccount.Herdeathisparticularlyunfortunate,sinceitleavesusnocluenowtothecauseofthequarreltheprecedingnight.Bytheway,asmallenamelboxwasfoundonthedeadman.IthadCocowrittenacrossitindiamonds,andwashalffullofcocaine.ItwasidentifiedbyMissCourtenay’smaidasbelongingtohermistress,whonearlyalwayscarrieditaboutwithher,sinceitcontainedhersupplyofthedrugtowhichshewasfastbecomingaslave.’
‘WasLordCronshawhimselfaddictedtothedrug?’
‘Veryfarfromit.Heheldunusuallystrongviewsonthesubjectofdope.’
Poirotnoddedthoughtfully.
‘Butsincetheboxwasinhispossession,heknewthatMissCourtenaytookit.Suggestive,that,isitnot,mygoodJapp?’
‘Ah!’saidJapprathervaguely.
Ismiled.
‘Well,’saidJapp,‘that’sthecase.Whatdoyouthinkofit?’
‘Youfoundnoclueofanykindthathasnotbeenreported?’
‘Yes,therewasthis.’JapptookasmallobjectfromhispocketandhandeditovertoPoirot.Itwasasmallpomponofemeraldgreensilk,withsomeraggedthreadshangingfromit,asthoughithadbeenwrenchedviolentlyaway.
‘Wefounditinthedeadman’shand,whichwastightlyclenchedoverit,’explainedtheinspector.
Poirothandeditbackwithoutanycommentandasked:‘HadLordCronshawanyenemies?’
‘Nonethatanyoneknowsof.Heseemedapopularyoungfellow.’
‘Whobenefitsbyhisdeath?’
‘Hisuncle,theHonourableEustaceBeltane,comesintothetitleandestates.Thereareoneortwosuspiciousfactsagainsthim.Severalpeopledeclarethattheyheardaviolentaltercationgoingoninthelittlesupper-room,andthatEustaceBeltanewasoneofthedisputants.Yousee,thetable-knifebeingsnatchedupoffthetablewouldfitinwiththemurderbeingdoneintheheatofaquarrel.’
‘WhatdoesMrBeltanesayaboutthematter?’
‘Declaresoneofthewaiterswastheworseforliquor,andthathewasgivinghimadressingdown.Alsothatitwasnearertoonethanhalfpast.Yousee,CaptainDigby’sevidencefixesthetimeprettyaccurately.OnlyabouttenminuteselapsedbetweenhisspeakingtoCronshawandthefindingofthebody.’
‘AndinanycaseIsupposeMrBeltane,asPunchinello,waswearingahumpandaruffle?’
‘Idon’tknowtheexactdetailsofthecostumes,’saidJapp,lookingcuriouslyatPoirot.‘Andanyway,Idon’tquiteseewhatthathasgottodowithit?’
‘No?’TherewasahintofmockeryinPoirot’ssmile.Hecontinuedquietly,hiseyesshiningwiththegreenlightIhadlearnedtorecognizesowell:‘Therewasacurtaininthislittlesupper-room,wastherenot?’
‘Yes,but—’
‘Withaspacebehinditsufficienttoconcealaman?’
‘Yes—infact,there’sasmallrecess,buthowyouknewaboutit—youhaven’tbeentotheplace,haveyou,MonsieurPoirot?’
‘No,mygoodJapp,Isuppliedthecurtainfrommybrain.Withoutit,thedramaisnotreasonable.Andalwaysonemustbereasonable.Buttellme,didtheynotsendforadoctor?’
‘Atonce,ofcourse.Buttherewasnothingtobedone.Deathmusthavebeeninstantaneous.’
Poirotnoddedratherimpatiently.
‘Yes,yes,Iunderstand.Thisdoctor,now,hegaveevidenceattheinquest?’
‘Yes.’
‘Didhesaynothingofanyunusualsymptom—wastherenothingabouttheappearanceofthebodywhichstruckhimasbeingabnormal?’
Jappstaredhardatthelittleman.
‘Yes,MonsieurPoirot.Idon’tknowwhatyou’regettingat,buthedidmentionthattherewasatensionandstiffnessaboutthelimbswhichhewasquiteatalosstoaccountfor.’
‘Aha!’saidPoirot.‘Aha!MonDieu!Japp,thatgivesonetothink,doesitnot?’
IsawthatithadcertainlynotgivenJapptothink.
‘Ifyou’rethinkingofpoison,monsieur,whoonearthwouldpoisonamanfirstandthenstickaknifeintohim?’
‘Intruththatwouldberidiculous,’agreedPoirotplacidly.
‘Nowisthereanythingyouwanttosee,monsieur?Ifyou’dliketoexaminetheroomwherethebodywasfound—’
Poirotwavedhishand.
‘Notintheleast.Youhavetoldmetheonlythingthatinterestsme—LordCronshaw’sviewsonthesubjectofdrugtaking.’
‘Thenthere’snothingyouwanttosee?’
‘Justonething.’
‘Whatisthat?’
‘Thesetofchinafiguresfromwhichthecostumeswerecopied.’
Jappstared.
‘Well,you’reafunnyone!’
‘Youcanmanagethatforme?’
‘ComeroundtoBerkeleySquarenowifyoulike.MrBeltane—orHisLordship,asIshouldsaynow—won’tobject.’
II
Wesetoffatonceinataxi.ThenewLordCronshawwasnotathome,butatJapp’srequestwewereshownintothe‘chinaroom’,wherethegemsofthecollectionwerekept.Japplookedroundhimratherhelplessly.
‘Idon’tseehowyou’lleverfindtheonesyouwant,monsieur.’
ButPoirothadalreadydrawnachairinfrontofthemantelpieceandwashoppingupuponitlikeanimblerobin.Abovethemirror,onasmallshelftothemselves,stoodsixchinafigures.Poirotexaminedthemminutely,makingafewcommentstousashedidso.
‘Lesvoilà!TheoldItalianComedy.Threepairs!HarlequinandColumbine,PierrotandPierrette—verydaintyinwhiteandgreen—andPunchinelloandPulcinellainmauveandyellow.Veryelaborate,thecostumeofPunchinello—rufflesandfrills,ahump,ahighhat.Yes,asIthought,veryelaborate.’
Hereplacedthefigurescarefully,andjumpeddown.
Japplookedunsatisfied,butasPoirothadclearlynointentionofexplaininganything,thedetectiveputthebestfacehecoulduponthematter.Aswewerepreparingtoleave,themasterofthehousecamein,andJappperformedthenecessaryintroductions.
ThesixthViscountCronshawwasamanofaboutfifty,suaveinmanner,withahandsome,dissoluteface.Evidentlyanelderlyroué,withthelanguidmannerofaposeur.Itookaninstantdisliketohim.Hegreetedusgraciouslyenough,declaringhehadheardgreataccountsofPoirot’sskill,andplacinghimselfatourdisposalineveryway.
‘Thepolicearedoingalltheycan,Iknow,’Poirotsaid.
‘ButImuchfearthemysteryofmynephew’sdeathwillneverbeclearedup.Thewholethingseemsutterlymysterious.’
Poirotwaswatchinghimkeenly.‘Yournephewhadnoenemiesthatyouknowof?’
‘Nonewhatever.Iamsureofthat.’Hepaused,andthenwenton:‘Ifthereareanyquestionsyouwouldliketoask—’
‘Onlyone.’Poirot’svoicewasserious.‘Thecostumes—theywerereproducedexactlyfromyourfigurines?’
‘Tothesmallestdetail.’
‘Thankyou,milor’.ThatisallIwantedtobesureof.Iwishyougoodday.’
‘Andwhatnext?’inquiredJappaswehurrieddownthestreet.‘I’vegottoreportattheYard,youknow.’
‘Bien!Iwillnotdetainyou.Ihaveoneotherlittlemattertoattendto,andthen—’
‘Yes?’
‘Thecasewillbecomplete.’
‘What?Youdon’tmeanit!YouknowwhokilledLordCronshaw?’
‘Parfaitement.’
‘Whowasit?EustaceBeltane?’
‘Ah,monami,youknowmylittleweakness!AlwaysIhaveadesiretokeepthethreadsinmyownhandsuptothelastminute.Buthavenofear.Iwillrevealallwhenthetimecomes.Iwantnocredit—theaffairshallbeyours,ontheconditionthatyoupermitmetoplayoutthedénouementmyownway.’
‘That’sfairenough,’saidJapp.‘Thatis,ifthedénouementevercomes!ButIsay,youareanoyster,aren’tyou?’Poirotsmiled.‘Well,solong.I’mofftotheYard.’
Hestrodeoffdownthesteet,andPoirothailedapassingtaxi.
‘Wherearewegoingnow?’Iaskedinlivelycuriosity.
‘ToChelseatoseetheDavidsons.’
Hegavetheaddresstothedriver.
‘WhatdoyouthinkofthenewLordCronshaw?’Iasked.
‘WhatsaysmygoodfriendHastings?’
‘Idistrusthiminstinctively.’
‘Youthinkheisthe“wickeduncle”ofthestory-books,eh?’
‘Don’tyou?’
‘Me,Ithinkhewasmostamiabletowardsus,’saidPoirotnoncommittally.
‘Becausehehadhisreasons!’
Poirotlookedatme,shookhisheadsadly,andmurmuredsomethingthatsoundedlike:‘Nomethod.’
III
TheDavidsonslivedonthethirdfloorofablockof‘mansion’flats.MrDavidsonwasout,weweretold,butMrsDavidsonwasathome.Wewereusheredintoalong,lowroomwithgarishOrientalhangings.Theairfeltcloseandoppressive,andtherewasanoverpoweringfragranceofjoss-sticks.MrsDavidsoncametousalmostimmediately,asmall,faircreaturewhosefragilitywouldhaveseemedpatheticandappealinghaditnotbeenfortherathershrewdandcalculatinggleaminherlightblueeyes.
Poirotexplainedourconnectionwiththecase,andsheshookherheadsadly.
‘PoorCronch—andpoorCocotoo!Wewerebothsofondofher,andherdeathhasbeenaterriblegrieftous.Whatisityouwanttoaskme?MustIreallygooverallthatdreadfuleveningagain?’
‘Oh,madame,believeme,Iwouldnotharassyourfeelingsunnecessarily.Indeed,InspectorJapphastoldmeallthatisneedful.Ionlywishtoseetheconstumeyouworeattheballthatnight.’
Theladylookedsomewhatsurprised,andPoirotcontinuedsmoothly:‘Youcomprehend,madame,thatIworkonthesystemofmycountry.Therewealways“reconstruct”thecrime.ItispossiblethatImayhaveanactualreprésentation,andifso,youunderstand,thecostumeswouldbeimportant.’
MrsDavidsonstilllookedabitdoubtful.
‘I’veheardofreconstructingacrime,ofcourse,’shesaid.‘ButIdidn’tknowyouweresoparticularaboutdetails.ButI’llfetchthedressnow.’
Shelefttheroomandreturnedalmostimmediatelywithadaintywispofwhitesatinandgreen.Poirottookitfromherandexaminedit,handingitbackwithabow.
‘Merci,madame!Iseeyouhavehadthemisfortunetoloseoneofyourgreenpompons,theoneontheshoulderhere.’
‘Yes,itgottornoffattheball.IpickeditupandgaveittopoorLordCronshawtokeepforme.’
‘Thatwasaftersupper?’
‘Yes.’
‘Notlongbeforethetragedy,perhaps?’
AfaintlookofalarmcameintoMrsDavidson’spaleeyes,andsherepliedquickly:‘Ohno—longbeforethat.Quitesoonaftersupper,infact.’
‘Isee.Well,thatisall.Iwillnotderangeyoufurther.Bonjour,madame.’
‘Well,’Isaidasweemergedfromthebuilding,‘thatexplainsthemysteryofthegreenpompon.’
‘Iwonder.’
‘Why,whatdoyoumean?’
‘Yousawmeexaminethedress,Hastings?’
‘Yes?’
‘Ehbien,thepomponthatwasmissinghadnotbeenwrenchedoff,astheladysaid.Onthecontrary,ithadbeencutoff,myfriend,cutoffwithscissors.Thethreadswereallquiteeven.’
‘Dearme!’Iexclaimed.‘Thisbecomesmoreandmoreinvolved.’
‘Onthecontrary,’repliedPoirotplacidly,‘itbecomesmoreandmoresimple.’
‘Poirot,’Icried,‘onedayIshallmurderyou!Yourhabitoffindingeverythingperfectlysimpleisaggravatingtothelastdegree!’
‘ButwhenIexplain,monami,isitnotalwaysperfectlysimple?’
‘Yes;thatistheannoyingpartofit!IfeelthenthatIcouldhavedoneitmyself.’
‘Andsoyoucould,Hastings,soyoucould.Ifyouwouldbuttakethetroubleofarrangingyourideas!Withoutmethod—’
‘Yes,yes,’Isaidhastily,forIknewPoirot’seloquencewhenstartedonhisfavouritethemeonlytoowell.‘Tellme,whatdowedonext?Areyoureallygoingtoreconstructthecrime?’
‘Hardlythat.Shallwesaythatthedramaisover,butthatIproposetoadda—harlequinade?’
IV
ThefollowingTuesdaywasfixeduponbyPoirotasthedayforthismysteriousperformance.Thepreparationsgreatlyintriguedme.Awhitescreenwaserectedatonesideoftheroom,flankedbyheavycurtainsateitherside.Amanwithsomelightingapparatusarrivednext,andfinallyagroupofmembersofthetheatricalprofession,whodisappearedintoPoirot’sbedroom,whichhadbeenriggedupasatemporarydressing-room.
Shortlybeforeeight,Japparrived,innoverycheerfulmood.IgatheredthattheofficialdetectivehardlyapprovedofPoirot’splan.
‘Bitmelodramatic,likeallhisideas.Butthere,itcandonoharm,andashesays,itmightsaveusagoodbitoftrouble.He’sbeenverysmartoverthecase.Iwasonthesamescentmyself,ofcourse—’IfeltinstinctivelythatJappwasstrainingthetruthhere—‘butthere,Ipromisedtolethimplaythethingouthisownway.Ah!Hereisthecrowd.’
HisLordshiparrivedfirst,escortingMrsMallaby,whomIhadnotasyetseen.Shewasapretty,dark-hairedwoman,andappearedperceptiblynervous.TheDavidsonsfollowed.ChrisDavidsonalsoIsawforthefirsttime.Hewashandsomeenoughinaratherobviousstyle,tallanddark,withtheeasygraceoftheactor.
Poirothadarrangedseatsforthepartyfacingthescreen.Thiswasilluminatedbyabrightlight.Poirotswitchedouttheotherlightssothattheroomwasindarknessexceptforthescreen.Poirot’svoiceroseoutofthegloom.
‘Messieurs,mesdames,awordofexplanation.Sixfiguresinturnwillpassacrossthescreen.Theyarefamiliartoyou.PierrotandhisPierrette;Punchinellothebuffoon,andelegantPulcinella;beautifulColumbine,lightlydancing,Harlequin,thesprite,invisibletoman!’
Withthesewordsofintroduction,theshowbegan.InturneachfigurethatPoirothadmentionedboundedbeforethescreen,stayedthereamomentpoised,andthenvanished.Thelightswentup,andasighofreliefwentround.Everyonehadbeennervous,fearingtheyknewnotwhat.Itseemedtomethattheproceedingshadgonesingularlyflat.Ifthecriminalwasamongus,andPoirotexpectedhimtobreakdownatthemeresightofafamiliarfigurethedevicehadfailedsignally—asitwasalmostboundtodo.Poirot,however,appearednotawhitdiscomposed.Hesteppedforward,beaming.
‘Now,messieursandmesdames,willyoubesogoodastotellme,oneatatime,whatitisthatwehavejustseen?Willyoubegin,milor’?’
Thegentlemanlookedratherpuzzled.‘I’mafraidIdon’tquiteunderstand.’
‘Justtellmewhatwehavebeenseeing.’
‘I—er—well,IshouldsaywehaveseensixfigurespassinginfrontofascreenanddressedtorepresentthepersonagesintheoldItalianComedy,or—er—ourselvestheothernight.’
‘Nevermindtheothernight,milor’,’brokeinPoirot.‘ThefirstpartofyourspeechwaswhatIwanted.Madame,youagreewithMilor’Cronshaw?’
HehadturnedashespoketoMrsMallaby.
‘I—er—yes,ofcourse.’
‘YouagreethatyouhaveseensixfiguresrepresentingtheItalianComedy?’
‘Why,certainly.’
‘MonsieurDavidson?Youtoo?’
‘Yes.’
‘Madame?’
‘Yes.’
‘Hastings?Japp?Yes?Youareallinaccord?’
Helookedarounduponus;hisfacegrewratherpale,andhiseyesweregreenasanycat’s.
‘Andyet—youareallwrong!Youreyeshaveliedtoyou—astheyliedtoyouonthenightoftheVictoryBall.To“see”thingswithyoureyes,astheysay,isnotalwaystoseethetruth.Onemustseewiththeeyesofthemind;onemustemploythelittlecellsofgrey!Know,then,thattonightandonthenightoftheVictoryBall,yousawnotsixfiguresbutfive!See!’
Thelightswentoutagain.Afigureboundedinfrontofthescreen—Pierrot!
‘Whoisthat?’demandedPoirot.‘IsitPierrot?’
‘Yes,’weallcried.
‘Lookagain!’
WithaswiftmovementthemandivestedhimselfofhisloosePierrotgarb.ThereinthelimelightstoodglitteringHarlequin!Atthesamemomenttherewasacryandanoverturnedchair.
‘Curseyou,’snarledDavidson’svoice.‘Curseyou!Howdidyouguess?’
ThencametheclinkofhandcuffsandJapp’scalmofficialvoice.‘Iarrestyou,ChristopherDavidson—chargeofmurderingViscountCronshaw—anythingyousaywillbeusedinevidenceagainstyou.’
V
Itwasaquarterofanhourlater.Arecherchélittlesupperhadappeared;andPoirot,beamingalloverhisface,wasdispensinghospitalityandansweringoureagerquestions.
‘Itwasallverysimple.Thecircumstancesinwhichthegreenpomponwasfoundsuggestedatoncethatithadbeentornfromthecostumeofthemurderer.IdismissedPierrettefrommymind(sinceittakesconsiderablestrengthtodriveatable-knifehome)andfixeduponPierrotasthecriminal.ButPierrotlefttheballnearlytwohoursbeforethemurderwascommitted.SohemusteitherhavereturnedtotheballlatertokillLordCronshaw,or—ehbien,hemusthavekilledhimbeforeheleft!Wasthatimpossible?WhohadseenLordCronshawaftersupperthatevening?OnlyMrsDavidson,whosestatement,Isuspected,wasadeliberatefabricationutteredwiththeobjectofaccountingforthemissingpompon,which,ofcourse,shecutfromherowndresstoreplacetheonemissingonherhusband’scostume.Butthen,Harlequin,whowasseenintheboxatone-thirty,musthavebeenanimpersonation.Foramoment,earlier,IhadconsideredthepossibilityofMrBeltanebeingtheguiltyparty.Butwithhiselaboratecostume,itwasclearlyimpossiblethathecouldhavedoubledtherolesofPunchinelloandHarlequin.Ontheotherhand,toDavidson,ayoungmanofaboutthesameheightasthemurderedmanandanactorbyprofession,thethingwassimplicityitself.
‘Butonethingworriedme.Surelyadoctorcouldnotfailtoperceivethedifferencebetweenamanwhohadbeendeadtwohoursandonewhohadbeendeadtenminutes!Ehbien,thedoctordidperceiveit!Buthewasnottakentothebodyandasked,‘Howlonghasthismanbeendead?’Onthecontrary,hewasinformedthatthemanhadbeenseenalivetenminutesago,andsohemerelycommentedattheinquestontheabnormalstiffeningofthelimbsforwhichhewasquiteunabletoaccount!
‘Allwasnowmarchingfamouslyformytheory.DavidsonhadkilledLordCronshawimmediatelyaftersupper,when,asyouremember,hewasseentodrawhimbackintothesupper–room.ThenhedepartedwithMissCourtenay,leftheratthedoorofherflat(insteadofgoinginandtryingtopacifyherasheaffirmed)andreturnedpost-hastetotheColossus—butasHarlequin,notPierrot—asimpletransformationeffectedbyremovinghisoutercostume.’
VI
Theuncleofthedeadmanleanedforward,hiseyesperplexed.
‘Butifso,hemusthavecometotheballpreparedtokillhisvictim.Whatearthlymotivecouldhehavehad?Themotive,that’swhatIcan’tget.’
‘Ah!Therewecometothesecondtragedy—thatofMissCourtenay.Therewasonesimplepointwhicheveryoneoverlooked.MissCourtenaydiedofcocainepoisoning—buthersupplyofthedrugwasintheenamelboxwhichwasfoundonLordCronshaw’sbody.Where,then,didsheobtainthedosewhichkilledher?Onlyonepersoncouldhavesuppliedherwithit—Davidson.Andthatexplainseverything.ItaccountsforherfriendshipwiththeDavidsonsandherdemandthatDavidsonshouldescortherhome.LordCronshaw,whowasalmostfanaticallyopposedtodrug-taking,discoveredthatshewasaddictedtococaine,andsuspectedthatDavidsonsuppliedherwithit.Davidsondoubtlessdeniedthis,butLordCronshawdeterminedtogetthetruthfromMissCourtenayattheball.Hecouldforgivethewretchedgirl,buthewouldcertainlyhavenomercyonthemanwhomadealivingbytraffickingindrugs.ExposureandruinconfrontedDavidson.HewenttotheballdeterminedthatCronshaw’ssilencemustbeobtainedatanycost.’
‘WasCoco’sdeathanaccident,then?’
‘IsuspectthatitwasanaccidentcleverlyengineeredbyDavidson.ShewasfuriouslyangrywithCronshaw,firstforhisreproaches,andsecondlyfortakinghercocainefromher.Davidsonsuppliedherwithmore,andprobablysuggestedheraugmentingthedoseasadefianceto“oldCronch”!’
‘Oneotherthing,’Isaid.‘Therecessandthecurtain?Howdidyouknowaboutthem?’
‘Why,monami,thatwasthemostsimpleofall.Waitershadbeeninandoutofthatlittleroom,so,obviously,thebodycouldnothavebeenlyingwhereitwasfoundonthefloor.Theremustbesomeplaceintheroomwhereitcouldbehidden.Ideducedacurtainandarecessbehindit.Davidsondraggedthebodythere,andlater,afterdrawingattentiontohimselfinthebox,hedraggeditoutagainbeforefinallyleavingtheHall.Itwasoneofhisbestmoves.Heisacleverfellow!’
ButinPoirot’sgreeneyesIreadunmistakablytheunspokenremark:‘ButnotquitesocleverasHerculePoirot!’
TheAdventureoftheClaphamCook
I
AtthetimethatIwassharingroomswithmyfriendHerculePoirot,itwasmycustomtoreadaloudtohimtheheadlinesinthemorningnewspaper,theDailyBlare
TheDailyBlarewasapaperthatmadethemostofanyopportunityforsensationalism.Robberiesandmurdersdidnotlurkobscurelyinitsbackpages.Insteadtheyhityouintheeyeinlargetypeonthefrontpage.
ABSCONDINGBANKCLERKDISAPPEARSWITHFIFTYTHOUSANDPOUNDS’WORTHOFNEGOTIABLESECURITIES,Iread.HUSBANDPUTSHISHEADINGAS-OVEN.UNHAPPYHOMELIFE.MISSINGTYPIST.PRETTYGIRLOFTWENTY-ONE.WHEREISEDNAFIELD?
‘Thereyouare,Poirot,plentytochoosefrom.Anabscondingbankclerk,amysterioussuicide,amissingtypist—whichwillyouhave?’
Myfriendwasinaplacidmood.Hequietlyshookhishead.
‘Iamnotgreatlyattractedtoanyofthem,monami.TodayIfeelinclinedforthelifeofease.Itwouldhavetobeaveryinterestingproblemtotemptmefrommychair.Seeyou,Ihaveaffairsofimportanceofmyowntoattendto.’
‘Suchas?’
‘Mywardrobe,Hastings.IfImistakenot,thereisonmynewgreysuitthespotofgrease—onlytheuniquespot,butitissufficienttotroubleme.Thenthereismywinterovercoat—ImustlayhimasideinthepowderofKeatings.AndIthink—yes,Ithink—themomentisripeforthetrimmingsofmymoustaches—andafterwardsImustapplythepomade.’
‘Well,’Isaid,strollingtothewindow,‘Idoubtifyou’llbeabletocarryoutthisdeliriousprogramme.Thatwasaringatthebell.Youhaveaclient.’
‘Unlesstheaffairisoneofnationalimportance,Itouchitnot,’declaredPoirotwithdignity.
Amomentlaterourprivacywasinvadedbyastoutred–facedladywhopantedaudiblyasaresultofherrapidascentofthestairs.
‘You’reM.Poirot?’shedemanded,asshesankintoachair.
‘IamHerculePoirot,yes,madame.’
‘You’renotabitlikewhatIthoughtyou’dbe,’saidthelady,eyeinghimwithsomedisfavour.‘Didyoupayforthebitinthepapersayingwhatacleverdetectiveyouwere,ordidtheyputitinthemselves?’
‘Madame!’saidPoirot,drawinghimselfup.
‘I’msorry,I’msure,butyouknowwhatthesepapersarenowadays.Youbeginreadinganicearticle:“Whatabridesaidtoherplainunmarriedfriend”,andit’sallaboutasimplethingyoubuyatthechemist’sandshampooyourhairwith.Nothingbutpuff.Butnooffencetaken,Ihope?I’lltellyouwhatIwantyoutodoforme.Iwantyoutofindmycook.’
Poirotstaredather;foroncehisreadytonguefailedhim.IturnedasidetohidethebroadeningsmileIcouldnotcontrol.
‘It’sallthiswickeddole,’continuedthelady.‘Puttingideasintoservants’heads,wantingtobetypistsandwhatnots.Stopthedole,that’swhatIsay.I’dliketoknowwhatmyservantshavetocomplainof—afternoonandeveningoffaweek,alternateSundays,washingputout,samefoodaswehave—andneverabitofmargarineinthehouse,nothingbuttheverybestbutter.’
ShepausedforwantofbreathandPoirotseizedhisopportunity.Hespokeinhishaughtiestmanner,risingtohisfeetashedidso.
‘Ifearyouaremakingamistake,madame.Iamnotholdinganinquiryintotheconditionsofdomesticservice.Iamaprivatedetective.’
‘Iknowthat,’saidourvisitor.‘Didn’tItellyouIwantedyoutofindmycookforme?WalkedoutofthehouseonWednesday,withoutsomuchasawordtome,andnevercameback.’
‘Iamsorry,madame,butIdonottouchthisparticularkindofbusiness.Iwishyougoodmorning.’
Ourvisitorsnortedwithindignation.
‘That’sit,isit,myfinefellow?Tooproud,eh?OnlydealwithGovernmentsecretsandcountesses’jewels?Letmetellyouaservant’severybitasimportantasatiaratoawomaninmyposition.Wecan’tallbefineladiesgoingoutinourmotorswithourdiamondsandourpearls.Agoodcook’sagoodcook—andwhenyouloseher,it’sasmuchtoyouasherpearlsaretosomefinelady.’
ForamomentortwoitappearedtobeatossupbetweenPoirot’sdignityandhissenseofhumour.Finallyhelaughedandsatdownagain.
‘Madame,youareintheright,andIaminthewrong.Yourremarksarejustandintelligent.Thiscasewillbeanovelty.NeveryethaveIhuntedamissingdomestic.TrulyhereistheproblemofnationalimportancethatIwasdemandingoffatejustbeforeyourarrival.Enavant!YousaythisjewelofacookwentoutonWednesdayanddidnotreturn.Thatisthedaybeforeyesterday.’
‘Yes,itwasherdayout.’
‘Butprobably,madame,shehasmetwithsomeaccident.Haveyouinquiredatanyofthehospitals?’
‘That’sexactlywhatIthoughtyesterday,butthismorning,ifyouplease,shesentforherbox.Andnotsomuchasalinetome!IfI’dbeenathome,I’dnothaveletitgo—treatingmelikethat!ButI’djuststeppedouttothebutcher.’
‘Willyoudescribehertome?’
‘Shewasmiddle-aged,stout,blackhairturninggrey—mostrespectable.She’dbeentenyearsinherlastplace.ElizaDunn,hernamewas.’
‘Andyouhadhad—nodisagreementwithherontheWednesday?’
‘Nonewhatsoever.That’swhatmakesitallsoqueer.’
‘Howmanyservantsdoyoukeep,madame?’
‘Two.Thehouse-parlourmaid,Annie,isaverynicegirl.Abitforgetfulandherheadfullofyoungmen,butagoodservantifyoukeepheruptoherwork.’
‘Didsheandthecookgetonwelltogether?’
‘Theyhadtheirupsanddowns,ofcourse—butonthewhole,verywell.’
‘Andthegirlcanthrownolightonthemystery?’
‘Shesaysnot—butyouknowwhatservantsare—theyallhangtogether.’
‘Well,well,wemustlookintothis.Wheredidyousayyouresided,madame?’
‘AtClapham;88PrinceAlbertRoad.’
‘Bien,madame,Iwillwishyougoodmorning,andyoumaycountuponseeingmeatyourresidenceduringthecourseoftheday.’
MrsTodd,forsuchwasournewfriend’sname,thentookherdeparture.Poirotlookedatmesomewhatruefully.
‘Well,well,Hastings,thisisanovelaffairthatwehavehere.TheDisappearanceoftheClaphamCook!Never,never,mustourfriendInspectorJappgettohearofthis!’
Hethenproceededtoheatanironandcarefullyremovedthegreasespotfromhisgreysuitbymeansofapieceofblotting-paper.Hismoustachesheregretfullypostponedtoanotherday,andwesetoutforClapham.
PrinceAlbertRoadprovedtobeastreetofsmallprimhouses,allexactlyalike,withneatlacecurtainsveilingthewindows,andwell-polishedbrassknockersonthedoors.
WerangthebellatNo.88,andthedoorwasopenedbyaneatmaidwithaprettyface.MrsToddcameoutinthehalltogreetus.
‘Don’tgo,Annie,’shecried.‘Thisgentleman’sadetectiveandhe’llwanttoaskyousomequestions.’
Annie’sfacedisplayedastrugglebetweenalarmandapleasurableexcitement.
‘Ithankyou,madame,’saidPoirotbowing.‘Iwouldliketoquestionyourmaidnow—andtoseeheralone,ifImay.’
Wewereshownintoasmalldrawing-room,andwhenMrsTodd,withobviousreluctance,hadlefttheroom,Poirotcommencedhiscross-examination.
‘Voyons,MademoiselleAnnie,allthatyoushalltelluswillbeofthegreatestimportance.Youalonecanshedanylightonthecase.WithoutyourassistanceIcandonothing.’
Thealarmvanishedfromthegirl’sfaceandthepleasurableexcitementbecamemorestronglymarked.
‘I’msure,sir,’shesaid,‘I’lltellyouanythingIcan.’
‘Thatisgood.’Poirotbeamedapprovalonher.‘Now,firstofallwhatisyourownidea?Youareagirlofremarkableintelligence.Thatcanbeseenatonce!WhatisyourownexplanationofEliza’sdisappearance?’
Thusencouraged,Anniefairlyflowedintoexcitedspeech.
‘Whiteslavers,sir,I’vesaidsoallalong!Cookwasalwayswarningmeagainstthem.“Don’tyousniffnoscent,oreatanysweets—nomatterhowgentlemanlythefellow!”Thosewereherwordstome.Andnowthey’vegother!I’msureofit.Aslikelyasnot,she’sbeenshippedtoTurkeyoroneofthemEasternplaceswhereI’veheardtheylikethemfat!’
Poirotpreservedanadmirablegravity.
‘Butinthatcase—anditisindeedanidea!—wouldshehavesentforhertrunk?’
‘Well,Idon’tknow,sir.She’dwantherthings—eveninthoseforeignplaces.’
‘Whocameforthetrunk—aman?’
‘ItwasCarterPaterson,sir.’
‘Didyoupackit?’
‘No,sir,itwasalreadypackedandcorded.’
‘Ah!That’sinteresting.ThatshowsthatwhensheleftthehouseonWednesday,shehadalreadydeterminednottoreturn.Youseethat,doyounot?’
‘Yes,sir.’Annielookedslightlytakenaback.‘Ihadn’tthoughtofthat.Butitmightstillhavebeenwhiteslavers,mightn’tit,sir?sheaddedwistfully.
‘Undoubtedly!’saidPoirotgravely.Hewenton:‘Didyoubothoccupythesamebedroom?’
‘No,sir,wehadseparaterooms.’
‘AndhadElizaexpressedanydissatisfactionwithherpresentposttoyouatall?Wereyoubothhappyhere?’
‘She’dnevermentionedleaving.Theplaceisallright—’Thegirlhesitated.
‘Speakfreely,’saidPoirotkindly.‘Ishallnottellyourmistress.’
‘Well,ofcourse,sir,she’sacaution,Missusis.Butthefood’sgood.Plentyofit,andnostinting.Somethinghotforsupper,goodoutings,andasmuchfrying-fatasyoulike.Andanyway,ifElizadidwanttomakeachange,she’dneverhavegoneoffthisway,I’msure.She’dhavestayedhermonth.Why,Missuscouldhaveamonth’swagesoutofherfordoingthis!’
‘Andthework,itisnottoohard?’
‘Well,she’sparticular—alwayspokingroundincornersandlookingfordust.Andthenthere’sthelodger,orpayingguestashe’salwayscalled.Butthat’sonlybreakfastanddinner,sameasMaster.They’reoutalldayintheCity.’
‘Youlikeyourmaster?’
‘He’sallright—veryquietandabitonthestingyside.’
‘Youcan’tremember,Isuppose,thelastthingElizasaidbeforeshewentout?’
‘Yes,Ican.“Ifthere’sanystewedpeachesoverfromthedining-room,”shesays,“we’llhavethemforsupper,andabitofbaconandsomefriedpotatoes.”Madoverstewedpeaches,shewas.Ishouldn’twonderiftheydidn’tgetherthatway.’
‘WasWednesdayherregulardayout?’
‘Yes,shehadWednesdaysandIhadThursdays.’
Poirotaskedafewmorequestions,thendeclaredhimselfsatisfied.Anniedeparted,andMrsToddhurriedin,herfacealightwithcuriosity.Shehad,Ifeltcertain,bitterlyresentedherexclusionfromtheroomduringourconversationwithAnnie.Poirot,however,wascarefultosootheherfeelingstactfully.
‘Itisdifficult,’heexplained,‘forawomanofexceptionalintelligencesuchasyourself,madame,tobearpatientlytheroundaboutmethodswepoordetectivesareforcedtouse.Tohavepatiencewithstupidityisdifficultforthequick-witted.’
HavingthuscharmedawayanylittleresentmentonMrsTodd’spart,hebroughttheconversationroundtoherhusbandandelicitedtheinformationthatheworkedwithafirmintheCityandwouldnotbehomeuntilaftersix.
‘Doubtlessheisverydisturbedandworriedbythisunaccountablebusiness,eh?Itisnotso?’
‘He’sneverworried,’declaredMrsTodd.‘“Well,well,getanother,mydear.”That’sallhesaid!He’ssocalmthatitdrivesmetodistractionsometimes.“Anungratefulwoman,”hesaid.“Wearewellridofher.”’
‘Whatabouttheotherinmatesofthehouse,madame?’
‘YoumeanMrSimpson,ourpayingguest?Well,aslongashegetshisbreakfastandhiseveningmealallright,hedoesn’tworry.’
‘Whatishisprofession,madame?’
‘Heworksinabank.’Shementioneditsname,andIstartedslightly,rememberingmyperusaloftheDailyBlare
‘Ayoungman?’
‘Twenty-eight,Ibelieve.Nicequietyoungfellow.’
‘Ishouldliketohaveafewwordswithhim,andalsowithyourhusband,ifImay.Iwillreturnforthatpurposethisevening.Iventuretosuggestthatyoushouldreposeyourselfalittle,madame,youlookfatigued.’
‘IshouldjustthinkIam!FirsttheworryaboutEliza,andthenIwasatthesalespracticallyallyesterday,andyouknowwhatthatis,M.Poirot,andwhatwithonethingandanotherandalottodointhehouse,becauseofcourseAnniecan’tdoitall—andverylikelyshe’llgivenoticeanyway,beingunsettledinthisway—well,whatwithitall,I’mtiredout!’
Poirotmurmuredsympathetically,andwetookourleave.
‘It’sacuriouscoincidence,’Isaid,‘butthatabscondingclerk,Davis,wasfromthesamebankasSimpson.Cantherebeanyconnection,doyouthink?’
Poirotsmiled.
‘Attheoneend,adefaultingclerk,attheotheravanishingcook.Itishardtoseeanyrelationbetweenthetwo,unlesspossiblyDavisvisitedSimpson,fellinlovewiththecook,andpersuadedhertoaccompanyhimonhisflight!’
Ilaughed.ButPoirotremainedgrave.
‘Hemighthavedoneworse,’hesaidreprovingly.‘Remember,Hastings,ifyouaregoingintoexile,agoodcookmaybeofmorecomfortthanaprettyface!’Hepausedforamomentandthenwenton.‘Itisacuriouscase,fullofcontradictoryfeatures.Iaminterested—yes,Iamdistinctlyinterested.’
II
Thateveningwereturnedto88PrinceAlbertRoadandinterviewedbothToddandSimpson.Theformerwasamelancholylantern-jawedmanofforty-odd.
‘Oh!Yes,yes,’hesaidvaguely.‘Eliza.Yes.Agoodcook,Ibelieve.Andeconomical.Imakeastrongpointofeconomy.’
‘Canyouimagineanyreasonforherleavingyousosuddenly?’
‘Oh,well,’saidMrToddvaguely.‘Servants,youknow.Mywifeworriestoomuch.Wornoutfromalwaysworrying.Thewholeproblem’squitesimplereally.“Getanother,mydear,”Isay.“Getanother.”That’sallthereistoit.Nogoodcryingoverspiltmilk.’
MrSimpsonwasequallyunhelpful.Hewasaquietinconspicuousyoungmanwithspectacles.
‘Imusthaveseenher,Isuppose,’hesaid.‘Elderlywoman,wasn’tshe?Ofcourse,it’stheotheroneIseealways,Annie.Nicegirl.Veryobliging.’
‘Werethosetwoongoodtermswitheachother?’
MrSimpsonsaidhecouldn’tsay,hewassure.Hesupposedso.
‘Well,wegetnothingofinterestthere,monami,’saidPoirotasweleftthehouse.OurdeparturehadbeendelayedbyaburstofvociferousrepetitionfromMrsTodd,whorepeatedeverythingshehadsaidthatmorningatrathergreaterlength.
‘Areyoudisappointed?’Iasked.‘Didyouexpecttohearsomething?’
Poirotshookhishead.
‘Therewasapossibility,ofcourse,’hesaid.‘ButIhardlythoughtitlikely.’
ThenextdevelopmentwasaletterwhichPoirotreceivedonthefollowingmorning.Hereadit,turnedpurplewithindignation,andhandedittome.
MrsToddregretsthatafterallshewillnotavailherselfofMrPoirot’sservices.Aftertalkingthematteroverwithherhusbandsheseesthatitisfoolishtocallinadetectiveaboutapurelydomesticaffair.MrsToddenclosesaguineaforconsultationfee.
III
‘Aha!’criedPoirotangrily.‘AndtheythinktogetridofHerculePoirotlikethat!Asafavour—agreatfavour—Iconsenttoinvestigatetheirmiserablelittletwopennyhalfpennyaffair—andtheydismissmecomme?a!Here,Imistakenot,isthehandofMrTodd.ButIsayno!—thirty-sixtimesno!Iwillspendmyownguineas,thirty-sixhundredofthemifneedbe,butIwillgettothebottomofthismatter!’
‘Yes,’Isaid.‘Buthow?’
Poirotcalmeddownalittle.
‘D’abord,’hesaid,‘wewilladvertiseinthepapers.Letmesee—yes—somethinglikethis:“IfElizaDunnwillcommunicatewiththisaddress,shewillhearofsomethingtoheradvantage.”Putitinallthepapersyoucanthinkof,Hastings.ThenIwillmakesomelittleinquiriesofmyown.Go,go—allmustbedoneasquicklyaspossible!’
Ididnotseehimagainuntiltheevening,whenhecondescendedtotellmewhathehadbeendoing.
‘IhavemadeinquiriesatthefirmofMrTodd.HewasnotabsentonWednesday,andhebearsagoodcharacter—somuchforhim.ThenSimpson,onThursdayhewasillanddidnotcometothebank,buthewasthereonWednesday.HewasmoderatelyfriendlywithDavis.Nothingoutofthecommon.Theredoesnotseemtobeanythingthere.No.Wemustplaceourrelianceontheadvertisement.’
Theadvertisementdulyappearedinalltheprincipaldailypapers.ByPoirot’sordersitwastobecontinuedeverydayforaweek.Hiseagernessoverthisuninterestingmatterofadefaultingcookwasextraordinary,butIrealizedthatheconsidereditapointofhonourtopersevereuntilhefinallysucceeded.Severalextremelyinterestingcaseswerebroughttohimaboutthistime,buthedeclinedthemall.Everymorninghewouldrushathisletters,scrutinizethemearnestlyandthenlaythemdownwithasigh.
Butourpatiencewasrewardedatlast.OntheWednesdayfollowingMrsTodd’svisit,ourlandladyinformedusthatapersonofthenameofElizaDunnhadcalled.
‘Enfin!’criedPoirot.‘Butmakehermountthen!Atonce.Immediately.’
Thusadmonished,ourlandladyhurriedoutandreturnedamomentortwolater,usheringinMissDunn.Ourquarrywasmuchasdescribed:tall,stout,andeminentlyrespectable.
‘Icameinanswertotheadvertisement,’sheexplained.‘Ithoughttheremustbesomemuddleorother,andthatperhapsyoudidn’tknowI’dalreadygotmylegacy.’
Poirotwasstudyingherattentively.Hedrewforwardachairwithaflourish.
‘Thetruthofthematteris,’heexplained,‘thatyourlatemistress,MrsTodd,wasmuchconcernedaboutyou.Shefearedsomeaccidentmighthavebefallenyou.’
ElizaDunnseemedverymuchsurprised.
‘Didn’tshegetmyletterthen?’
‘Shegotnowordofanykind.’Hepaused,andthensaidpersuasively:‘Recounttomethewholestory,willyounot?’
ElizaDunnneedednoencouragement.Sheplungedatonceintoalengthynarrative.
‘IwasjustcominghomeonWednesdaynightandhadnearlygottothehouse,whenagentlemanstoppedme.Atallgentlemanhewas,withabeardandabighat.“MissElizaDunn?”hesaid.“Yes,”Isaid.“I’vebeeninquiringforyouatNo.88,”hesaid.“TheytoldmeImightmeetyoucomingalonghere.MissDunn,IhavecomefromAustraliaspeciallytofindyou.Doyouhappentoknowthemaidennameofyourmaternalgrandmother?”“JaneEmmott,”Isaid.“Exactly,”hesaid.“Now,MissDunn,althoughyoumayneverhaveheardofthefact,yourgrandmotherhadagreatfriend,ElizaLeech.ThisfriendwenttoAustraliawhereshemarriedaverywealthysettler.Hertwochildrendiedininfancy,andsheinheritedallherhusband’sproperty.Shediedafewmonthsago,andbyherwillyouinheritahouseinthiscountryandaconsiderablesumofmoney.”
‘Youcouldhaveknockedmedownwithafeather,’continuedMissDunn.‘Foraminute,Iwassuspicious,andhemusthaveseenit,forhesmiled.“Quiterighttobeonyourguard,MissDunn,”hesaid.“Herearemycredentials.”HehandedmealetterfromsomelawyersinMelbourne,HurstandCrotchet,andacard.HewasMrCrotchet.“Thereareoneortwoconditions,”hesaid.“Ourclientwasalittleeccentric,youknow.Thebequestisconditionalonyourtakingpossessionofthehouse(itisinCumberland)beforetwelveo’clocktomorrow.Theotherconditionisofnoimportance—itismerelyastipulationthatyoushouldnotbeindomesticservice.”Myfacefell.“Oh,MrCrotchet,”Isaid.“I’macook.Didn’ttheytellyouatthehouse?”“Dear,dear,”hesaid.“Ihadnoideaofsuchathing.Ithoughtyoumightpossiblybeacompanionorgovernessthere.Thisisveryunfortunate—veryunfortunateindeed.”
‘“ShallIhavetoloseallthemoney?”Isaid,anxiouslike.Hethoughtforaminuteortwo.“Therearealwayswaysofgettingroundthelaw,MissDunn,”hesaidatlast.“Weaslawyersknowthat.Thewayouthereisforyoutohaveleftyouremploymentthisafternoon.”“Butmymonth?”Isaid.“MydearMissDunn,”hesaidwithasmile.“Youcanleaveanemployeranyminutebyforfeitingamonth’swages.Yourmistresswillunderstandinviewofthecircumstances.Thedifficultyistime!Itisimperativethatyoushouldcatchthe11.05fromKing’sCrosstothenorth.Icanadvanceyoutenpoundsorsoforthefare,andyoucanwriteanoteatthestationtoyouremployer.Iwilltakeittohermyselfandexplainthewholecircumstances.”Iagreed,ofcourse,andanhourlaterIwasinthetrain,soflusteredthatIdidn’tknowwhetherIwasonmyheadorheels.IndeedbythetimeIgottoCarlisle,Iwashalfinclinedtothinkthewholethingwasoneofthoseconfidencetricksyoureadabout.ButIwenttotheaddresshehadgivenme—solicitorstheywere,anditwasallright.Anicelittlehouse,andanincomeofthreehundredayear.Theselawyersknewverylittle,they’djustgotaletterfromagentlemaninLondoninstructingthemtohandoverthehousetomeand￡150forthefirstsixmonths.MrCrotchetsentupmythingstome,buttherewasnowordfromMissus.Isupposedshewasangryandgrudgedmemybitofluck.Shekeptbackmyboxtoo,andsentmyclothesinpaperparcels.Butthere,ofcourseifsheneverhadmyletter,shemightthinkitabitcoolofme.’
Poirothadlistenedattentivelytothislonghistory.Nowhenoddedhisheadasthoughcompletelysatisfied.
‘Thankyou,mademoiselle.Therehadbeen,asyousay,alittlemuddle.Permitmetorecompenseyouforyourtrouble.’Hehandedheranenvelope.‘YoureturntoCumberlandimmediately?Alittlewordinyourear.Donotforgethowtocook.Itisalwaysusefultohavesomethingtofallbackuponincasethingsgowrong.’
‘Credulous,’hemurmured,asourvisitordeparted,‘butperhapsnotmorethanmostofherclass.’Hisfacegrewgrave.‘Come,Hastings,thereisnotimetobelost.GetataxiwhileIwriteanotetoJapp.’
PoirotwaswaitingonthedoorstepwhenIreturnedwiththetaxi.
‘Wherearewegoing?’Iaskedanxiously.
‘First,todespatchthisnotebyspecialmessenger.’
Thiswasdone,andre-enteringthetaxiPoirotgavetheaddresstothedriver.
‘Eighty-eightPrinceAlbertRoad,Clapham.’
‘Sowearegoingthere?’
‘Maisoui.ThoughfranklyIfearweshallbetoolate.Ourbirdwillhaveflown,Hastings.’
‘Whoisourbird?’
Poirotsmiled.
‘TheinconspicuousMrSimpson.’
‘What?’Iexclaimed.
‘Oh,comenow,Hastings,donottellmethatallisnotcleartoyounow!’
‘Thecookwasgotoutoftheway,Irealizethat,’Isaid,slightlypiqued.‘Butwhy?WhyshouldSimpsonwishtogetheroutofthehouse?Didsheknowsomethingabouthim?’
‘Nothingwhatever.’
‘Well,then—’
‘Buthewantedsomethingthatshehad.’
‘Money?TheAustralianlegacy?’
‘No,myfriend—somethingquitedifferent.’Hepausedamomentandthensaidgravely:‘Abatteredtintrunk…’
Ilookedsidewaysathim.HisstatementseemedsofantasticthatIsuspectedhimofpullingmyleg,buthewasperfectlygraveandserious.
‘Surelyhecouldbuyatrunkifhewantedone,’Icried.
‘Hedidnotwantanewtrunk.Hewantedatrunkofpedigree.Atrunkofassuredrespectability.’
‘Lookhere,Poirot,’Icried,‘thisreallyisabitthick.You’repullingmyleg.’
Helookedatme.
‘YoulackthebrainsandtheimaginationofMrSimpson,Hastings.Seehere:OnWednesdayevening,Simpsondecoysawaythecook.Aprintedcardandaprintedsheetofnotepaperaresimplematterstoobtain,andheiswillingtopay￡150andayear’shouserenttoassurethesuccessofhisplan.MissDunndoesnotrecognizehim—thebeardandthehatandtheslightcolonialaccentcompletelydeceiveher.ThatistheendofWednesday—exceptforthetriflingfactthatSimpsonhashelpedhimselftofiftythousandpounds’worthofnegotiablesecurities.’
‘Simpson—butitwasDavis—’
‘Ifyouwillkindlypermitmetocontinue,Hastings!SimpsonknowsthatthetheftwillbediscoveredonThursdayafternoon.HedoesnotgotothebankonThursday,butheliesinwaitforDaviswhenhecomesouttolunch.PerhapsheadmitsthetheftandtellsDavishewillreturnthesecuritiestohim—anyhowhesucceedsingettingDavistocometoClaphamwithhim.Itisthemaid’sdayout,andMrsToddwasatthesales,sothereisnooneinthehouse.WhenthetheftisdiscoveredandDavisismissing,theimplicationwillbeoverwhelming.Davisisthethief!MrSimpsonwillbeperfectlysafe,andcanreturntoworkonthemorrowlikethehonestclerktheythinkhim.’
‘AndDavis?’
Poirotmadeanexpressivegesture,andslowlyshookhishead.
‘Itseemstoocold-bloodedtobebelieved,andyetwhatotherexplanationcantherebe,monami.Theonedifficultyforamurdereristhedisposalofthebody—andSimpsonhadplannedthatoutbeforehand.IwasstruckatoncebythefactthatalthoughElizaDunnobviouslymeanttoreturnthatnightwhenshewentout(witnessherremarkaboutthestewedpeaches)yethertrunkwasallreadypackedwhentheycameforit.ItwasSimpsonwhosentwordtoCarterPatersontocallonFridayanditwasSimpsonwhocordeduptheboxonThursdayafternoon.Whatsuspicioncouldpossiblyarise?Amaidleavesandsendsforherbox,itislabelledandaddressedreadyinhername,probablytoarailwaystationwithineasyreachofLondon.OnSaturdayafternoon,Simpson,inhisAustraliandisguise,claimsit,heaffixesanewlabelandaddressandredespatchesitsomewhereelse,again“tobelefttillcalledfor”.Whentheauthoritiesgetsuspicious,forexcellentreasons,andopenit,allthatcanbeelicitedwillbethatabeardedcolonialdespatcheditfromsomejunctionnearLondon.Therewillbenothingtoconnect
Poirot’sprognosticationshadbeencorrect.Simpsonhadleftdayspreviously.Buthewasnottoescapetheconsequencesofhiscrime.Bytheaidofwireless,hewasdiscoveredontheOlympia,enroutetoAmerica.
Atintrunk,addressedtoMrHenryWintergreen,attractedtheattentionofrailwayofficialsatGlasgow.ItwasopenedandfoundtocontainthebodyoftheunfortunateDavis.
MrsTodd’schequeforaguineawasnevercashed.InsteadPoirothaditframedandhungontheallofoursitting-room.
‘Itistomealittlereminder,Hastings.Nevertodespisethetrivial—theundignified.Adisappearingdomesticatoneend—acold-bloodedmurderattheother.Tome,oneofthemostinterestingofmycases.’
TheCornishMystery
I
‘MrsPengelley,’announcedourlandlady,andwithdrewdiscreetly.
ManyunlikelypeoplecametoconsultPoirot,buttomymind,thewomanwhostoodnervouslyjustinsidethedoor,fingeringherfeatherneck-piece,wasthemostunlikelyofall.Shewassoextraordinarilycommonplace—athin,fadedwomanofaboutfifty,dressedinabraidedcoatandskirt,somegoldjewelleryatherneck,andwithhergreyhairsurmountedbyasingularlyunbecominghat.InacountrytownyoupassahundredMrsPengelleysinthestreeteveryday.
Poirotcameforwardandgreetedherpleasantly,perceivingherobviousembarrassment.
‘Madame!Takeachair,Ibegofyou.Mycolleague,CaptainHastings.’
Theladysatdown,murmuringuncertainly:‘YouareM.Poirot,thedetective?’
‘Atyourservice,madame.’
Butourguestwasstilltongue-tied.Shesighed,twistedherfingers,andgrewsteadilyredderandredder.
‘ThereissomethingIcandoforyou,eh,madame?’
‘Well,Ithought—thatis—yousee—’
‘Proceed,madame,Ibegofyou—proceed.’
MrsPengelley,thusencouraged,tookagriponherself.
‘It’sthisway,M.Poirot—Idon’twanttohaveanythingtodowiththepolice.No,Iwouldn’tgotothepoliceforanything!Butallthesame,I’msorelytroubledaboutsomething.AndyetIdon’tknowifIought—’Shestoppedabruptly.
‘Me,Ihavenothingtodowiththepolice.Myinvestigationsarestrictlyprivate.’
MrsPengelleycaughtattheword.
‘Private—that’swhatIwant.Idon’twantanytalkorfuss,orthingsinthepapers.Wickeditis,thewaytheywritethings,untilthefamilycouldneverholduptheirheadsagain.Anditisn’tasthoughIwasevensure—it’sjustadreadfulideathat’scometome,andputitoutofmyheadIcan’t.’Shepausedforbreath.‘AndallthetimeImaybewickedlywrongingpoorEdward.It’saterriblethoughtforanywifetohave.Butyoudoreadofsuchdreadfulthingsnowadays.’
‘Permitme—itisofyourhusbandyouspeak?’
‘Yes.’
‘Andyoususpecthimof—what?’
‘Idon’tlikeeventosayit,M.Poirot.Butyoudoreadofsuchthingshappening—andthepoorsoulssuspectingnothing.’
Iwasbeginningtodespairofthelady’severcomingtothepoint,butPoirot’spatiencewasequaltothedemandmadeuponit.
‘Speakwithoutfear,madame.Thinkwhatjoywillbeyoursifweareabletoproveyoursuspicionsunfounded.’
‘That’strue—anything’sbetterthanthiswearinguncertainty.Oh,M.Poirot,I’mdreadfullyafraidI’mbeingpoisoned.’
‘Whatmakesyouthinkso?’
MrsPengelley,herreticenceleavingher,plungedintoafullrecitalmoresuitedtotheearsofhermedicalattendant.
‘Painandsicknessafterfood,eh?’saidPoirotthoughtfully.‘Youhaveadoctorattendingyou,madame?Whatdoeshesay?’
‘Hesaysit’sacutegastritis,M.Poirot.ButIcanseethathe’spuzzledanduneasy,andhe’salwaysalteringthemedicine,butnothingdoesanygood.’
‘Youhavespokenofyour—fears,tohim?’
‘No,indeed,M.Poirot.Itmightgetaboutinthetown.Andperhapsitisgastritis.Allthesame,it’sveryoddthatwheneverEdwardisawayfortheweek-end,I’mquiteallrightagain.EvenFredanoticesthat—myniece,M.Poirot.Andthenthere’sthatbottleofweed-killer,neverused,thegardenersays,andyetit’shalf-empty.’
ShelookedappealinglyatPoirot.Hesmiledreassuringlyather,andreachedforapencilandnotebook.
‘Letusbebusinesslike,madame.Now,then,youandyourhusbandreside—where?’
‘Polgarwith,asmallmarkettowninCornwall.’
‘Youhavelivedtherelong?’
‘Fourteenyears.’
‘Andyourhouseholdconsistsofyouandyourhusband.Anychildren?’
‘No.’
‘Butaniece,Ithinkyousaid?’
‘Yes,FredaStanton,thechildofmyhusband’sonlysister.Shehaslivedwithusforthelasteightyears—thatis,untilaweekago.’
‘Oh,andwhathappenedaweekago?’
‘Thingshadn’tbeenverypleasantforsometime;Idon’tknowwhathadcomeoverFreda.Shewassorudeandimpertinent,andhertempersomethingshocking,andintheendsheflareduponeday,andoutshewalkedandtookroomsofherowninthetown.I’venotseenhersince.Betterleavehertocometohersenses,soMrRadnorsays.’
‘WhoisMrRadnor?’
SomeofMrsPengelley’sinitialembarrassmentreturned.
‘Oh,he’s—he’sjustafriend.Verypleasantyoungfellow.’
‘Anythingbetweenhimandyourniece?’
‘Nothingwhatever,’saidMrsPengelleyemphatically.
Poirotshiftedhisground.
‘Youandyourhusbandare,Ipresume,incomfortablecircumstances?’
‘Yes,we’reverynicelyoff.’
‘Themoney,isityoursoryourhusband’s?’
‘Oh,it’sallEdward’s.I’venothingofmyown.’
‘Yousee,madame,tobebusinesslike,wemustbebrutal.Wemustseekforamotive.Yourhusband,hewouldnotpoisonyoujustpourpasserletemps!Doyouknowofanyreasonwhyheshouldwishyououtoftheway?’
‘There’stheyellow-hairedhussywhoworksforhim,’saidMrsPengelley,withaflashoftemper.‘Myhusband’sadentist,M.Poirot,andnothingwoulddobuthemusthaveasmartgirl,ashesaid,withbobbedhairandawhiteoverall,tomakehisappointmentsandmixhisfillingsforhim.It’scometomyearsthattherehavebeenfinegoings-on,thoughofcourseheswearsit’sallright.’
‘Thisbottleofweed-killer,madame,whoorderedit?’
‘Myhusband—aboutayearago.’
‘Yourniece,now,hassheanymoneyofherown?’
‘Aboutfiftypoundsayear,Ishouldsay.She’dbegladenoughtocomebackandkeephouseforEdwardifIlefthim.’
‘Youhavecontemplatedleavinghim,then?’
‘Idon’tintendtolethimhaveitallhisownway.Womenaren’tthedowntroddenslavestheywereintheolddays,M.Poirot.’
‘Icongratulateyouonyourindependentspirit,madame;butletusbepractical.YoureturntoPolgarwithtoday?’
‘Yes,Icameupbyanexcursion.Sixthismorningthetrainstarted,andthetraingoesbackatfivethisafternoon.’
‘Bien!Ihavenothingofgreatmomentonhand.Icandevotemyselftoyourlittleaffair.TomorrowIshallbeinPolgarwith.ShallwesaythatHastings,here,isadistantrelativeofyours,thesonofyoursecondcousin?Me,Iamhiseccentricforeignfriend.Inthemeantime,eatonlywhatispreparedbyyourownhands,orunderyoureye.Youhaveamaidwhomyoutrust?’
‘Jessieisaverygoodgirl,Iamsure.’
‘Tilltomorrowthen,madame,andbeofgoodcourage.’
II
Poirotbowedtheladyout,andreturnedthoughtfullytohischair.Hisabsorptionwasnotsogreat,however,thathefailedtoseetwominutestrandsoffeatherscarfwrenchedoffbythelady’sagitatedfingers.Hecollectedthemcarefullyandconsignedthemtothewastepaperbasket.
‘Whatdoyoumakeofthecase,Hastings?’
‘Anastybusiness,Ishouldsay.’
‘Yes,ifwhattheladysuspectsbetrue.Butisit?Woebetideanyhusbandwhoordersabottleofweed-killernowadays.Ifhiswifesuffersfromgastritis,andisinclinedtobeofahystericaltemperament,thefatisinthefire.’
‘Youthinkthatisallthereistoit?’
‘Ah—voilà—Idonotknow,Hastings.Butthecaseinterestsme—itinterestsmeenormously.For,yousee,ithaspositivelynonewfeatures.Hencethehystericaltheory,andyetMrsPengelleydidnotstrikemeasbeingahystericalwoman.Yes,ifImistakenot,wehavehereaverypoignanthumandrama.Tellme,Hastings,whatdoyouconsiderMrsPengelley’sfeelingstowardsherhusbandtobe?’
‘Loyaltystrugglingwithfear,’Isuggested.
‘Yet,ordinarily,awomanwillaccuseanyoneintheworld—butnotherhusband.Shewillsticktoherbeliefinhimthroughthickandthin.’
‘The“otherwoman”complicatesthematter.’
‘Yes,affectionmayturntohate,underthestimulusofjealousy.Buthatewouldtakehertothepolice—nottome.Shewouldwantanoutcry—ascandal.No,no,letusexerciseourlittlegreycells.Whydidshecometome?Tohavehersuspicionsprovedwrong?Or—tohavethemprovedright?Ah,wehaveheresomethingIdonotunderstand—anunknownfactor.Issheasuperbactress,ourMrsPengelley?No,shewasgenuine,Iwouldswearthatshewasgenuine,andthereforeIaminterested.LookupthetrainstoPolgarwith,Iprayyou.’
III
Thebesttrainofthedaywastheone-fiftyfromPaddingtonwhichreachedPolgarwithjustafterseveno’clock.Thejourneywasuneventful,andIhadtorousemyselffromapleasantnaptoalightupontheplatformofthebleaklittlestation.WetookourbagstotheDuchyHotel,andafteralightmeal,Poirotsuggestedoursteppingroundtopayanafter-dinnercallonmyso-calledcousin
ThePengelleys’housestoodalittlewaybackfromtheroadwithanold-fashionedcottagegardeninfront.Thesmellofstocksandmignonettecamesweetlywaftedontheeveningbreeze.ItseemedimpossibletoassociatethoughtsofviolencewiththisOldWorldcharm.Poirotrangandknocked.Asthesummonswasnotanswered,herangagain.Thistime,afteralittlepause,thedoorwasopenedbyadishevelled-lookingservant.Hereyeswerered,andshewassniffingviolently.
‘WewishtoseeMrsPengelley,’explainedPoirot.‘Mayweenter?’
Themaidstared.Then,withunusualdirectness,sheanswered:‘Haven’tyouheard,then?She’sdead.Diedthisevening—abouthalfanhourago.’
Westoodstaringather,stunned.
‘Whatdidshedieof?’Iaskedatlast.
‘There’ssomeascouldtell.’Shegaveaquickglanceoverhershoulder.‘Ifitwasn’tthatsomebodyoughttobeinthehousewiththemissus,I’dpackmyboxandgotonight.ButI’llnotleaveherdeadwithnoonetowatchbyher.It’snotmyplacetosayanything,andI’mnotgoingtosayanything—buteverybodyknows.It’salloverthetown.AndifMrRadnordon’twritetothe’OmeSecretary,someoneelsewill.Thedoctormaysaywhathelikes.Didn’tIseethemasterwithmyowneyesa-liftingdownoftheweed-killerfromtheshelfthisveryevening?Anddidn’thejumpwhenheturnedroundandsawmewatchingofhim?Andthemissus’gruelthereonthetable,allreadytotaketoher?NotanotherbitoffoodpassesmylipswhileIaminthishouse!NotifIdiesforit.’
‘Wheredoesthedoctorlivewhoattendedyourmistress?’
‘DrAdams.RoundthecornerinHighStreet.Thesecondhouse.’
Poirotturnedawayabruptly.Hewasverypale.
‘Foragirlwhowasnotgoingtosayanything,thatgirlsaidalot,’Iremarkeddryly.
Poirotstruckhisclenchedhandintohispalm.
‘Animbecile,acriminalimbecile,thatiswhatIhavebeen,Hastings.Ihaveboastedofmylittlegreycells,andnowIhavelostahumanlife,alifethatcametometobesaved.NeverdidIdreamthatanythingwouldhappensosoon.MaythegoodGodforgiveme,butIneverbelievedanythingwouldhappenatall.Herstoryseemedtomeartificial.Hereweareatthedoctor’s.Letusseewhathecantellus.’
IV
DrAdamswasthetypicalgenialred-facedcountrydoctoroffiction.Hereceiveduspolitelyenough,butatahintofourerrand,hisredfacebecamepurple
‘Damnednonsense!Damnednonsense,everywordofit!Wasn’tIinattendanceonthecase?Gastritis—gastritispureandsimple.Thistown’sahotbedofgossip—alotofscandal-mongeringoldwomengettogetherandinventGodknowswhat.Theyreadthesescurrilousragsofnewspapers,andnothingwillsuitthembutthatsomeoneintheirtownshallgetpoisonedtoo.Theyseeabottleofweed-killeronashelf—andheypresto!—awaygoestheirimaginationwiththebitbetweenhisteeth.IknowEdwardPengelley—hewouldn’tpoisonhisgrandmother’sdog.Andwhyshouldhepoisonhiswife?Tellmethat?’
‘Thereisonething,M.leDocteur,thatperhapsyoudonotknow.’
And,verybriefly,PoirotoutlinedthemainfactsofMrsPengelley’svisittohim.NoonecouldhavebeenmoreastonishedthanDrAdams.Hiseyesalmoststartedoutofhishead.
‘Godblessmysoul!’heejaculated.‘Thepoorwomanmusthavebeenmad.Whydidn’tshespeaktome?Thatwastheproperthingtodo.’
‘Andhaveherfearsridiculed?’
‘Notatall,notatall.IhopeI’vegotanopenmind.’
Poirotlookedathimandsmiled.Thephysicianwasevidentlymoreperturbedthanhecaredtoadmit.Asweleftthehouse,Poirotbrokeintoalaugh.
‘Heisasobstinateasapig,thatone.Hehassaiditisgastritis;thereforeitisgastritis!Allthesame,hehastheminduneasy.’
‘What’sournextstep?’
‘Areturntotheinn,andanightofhorrorupononeofyourEnglishprovincialbeds,monami.Itisathingtomakepity,thecheapEnglishbed!’
‘Andtomorrow?’
‘Rienàfaire.Wemustreturntotownandawaitdevelopments.’
‘That’sverytame,’Isaid,disappointed.‘Supposetherearenone?’
‘Therewillbe!Ipromiseyouthat.Ourolddoctormaygiveasmanycertificatesashepleases.Hecannotstopseveralhundredtonguesfromwagging.Andtheywillwagtosomepurpose,Icantellyouthat!’
Ourtrainfortownleftateleventhefollowingmorning.Beforewestartedforthestation,PoirotexpressedawishtoseeMissFredaStanton,theniecementionedtousbythedeadwoman.Wefoundthehousewhereshewaslodgingeasilyenough.Withherwasatall,darkyoungmanwhomsheintroducedinsomeconfusionasMrJacobRadnor.
MissFredaStantonwasanextremelyprettygirloftheoldCornishtype—darkhairandeyesandrosycheeks.Therewasaflashinthosesamedarkeyeswhichtoldofatemperthatitwouldnotbewisetoprovoke.
‘PoorAuntie,’shesaid,whenPoirothadintroducedhimself,andexplainedhisbusiness.‘It’sterriblysad.I’vebeenwishingallthemorningthatI’dbeenkinderandmorepatient.’
‘Youstoodagreatdeal,Freda,’interruptedRadnor.
‘Yes,Jacob,butI’vegotasharptemper,Iknow.Afterall,itwasonlysillinessonAuntie’spart.Ioughttohavejustlaughedandnotminded.Ofcourse,it’sallnonsenseherthinkingthatUnclewaspoisoningher.Shewasworseafteranyfoodhegaveher—butI’msureitwasonlyfromthinkingaboutit.Shemadeuphermindshewouldbe,andthenshewas.’
‘Whatwastheactualcauseofyourdisagreement,mademoiselle?’
MissStantonhesitated,lookingatRadnor.Thatyounggentlemanwasquicktotakethehint.
‘Imustbegettingalong,Freda.Seeyouthisevening.Goodbye,gentlemen;you’reonyourwaytothestation,Isuppose?’
Poirotrepliedthatwewere,andRadnordeparted.
‘Youareaffianced,isitnotso?’demandedPoirot,withaslysmile.
FredaStantonblushedandadmittedthatsuchwasthecase.
‘AndthatwasreallythewholetroublewithAuntie,’sheadded.
‘Shedidnotapproveofthematchforyou?’
‘Oh,itwasn’tthatsomuch.Butyousee,she—’Thegirlcametoastop.
‘Yes?’encouragedPoirotgently.
‘Itseemsratherahorridthingtosayabouther—nowshe’sdead.Butyou’llneverunderstandunlessItellyou.AuntiewasabsolutelyinfatuatedwithJacob.’
‘Indeed?’
‘Yes,wasn’titabsurd?Shewasoverfifty,andhe’snotquitethirty!Butthereitwas.Shewassillyabouthim!Ihadtotellheratlastthatitwasmehewasafter—andshecarriedondreadfully.Shewouldn’tbelieveawordofit,andwassorudeandinsultingthatit’snowonderIlostmytemper.ItalkeditoverwithJacob,andweagreedthatthebestthingtodowasformetoclearoutforabittillshecametohersenses.PoorAuntie—Isupposeshewasinaqueerstatealtogether.’
‘Itwouldcertainlyseemso.Thankyou,mademoiselle,formakingthingssocleartome.’
V
Alittletomysurprise,Radnorwaswaitingforusinthestreetbelow.
‘IcanguessprettywellwhatFredahasbeentellingyou,’heremarked.‘Itwasamostunfortunatethingtohappen,andveryawkwardforme,asyoucanimagine.Ineedhardlysaythatitwasnoneofmydoing.Iwaspleasedatfirst,becauseIimaginedtheoldwomanwashelpingonthingswithFreda.Thewholethingwasabsurd—butextremelyunpleasant.’
‘WhenareyouandMissStantongoingtobemarried?’
‘Soon,Ihope.Now,M.Poirot,I’mgoingtobecandidwithyou.IknowabitmorethanFredadoes.Shebelievesheruncletobeinnocent.I’mnotsosure.ButIcantellyouonething:I’mgoingtokeepmymouthshutaboutwhatIdoknow.Letsleepingdogslie.Idon’twantmywife’suncletriedandhangedformurder.’
‘Whydoyoutellmeallthis?’
‘BecauseI’veheardofyou,andIknowyou’reacleverman.It’squitepossiblethatyoumightferretoutacaseagainsthim.ButIputittoyou—whatgoodisthat?Thepoorwomanispasthelp,andshe’dhavebeenthelastpersontowantascandal—why,she’dturninhergraveatthemerethoughtofit.’
‘Youareprobablyrightthere.Youwantmeto—hushitup,then?’
‘That’smyidea.I’lladmitfranklythatI’mselfishaboutit.I’vegotmywaytomake—andI’mbuildingupagoodlittlebusinessasatailorandoutfitter.’
‘Mostofusareselfish,MrRadnor.Notallofusadmititsofreely.Iwilldowhatyouask—butItellyoufranklyyouwillnotsucceedinhushingitup.’
‘Whynot?’
Poirotheldupafinger.Itwasmarketday,andwewerepassingthemarket—abusyhumcamefromwithin.
‘Thevoiceofthepeople—thatiswhy,MrRadnor.Ah,wemustrun,orweshallmissourtrain.’
VI
‘Veryinteresting,isitnot,Hastings?’saidPoirot,asthetrainsteamedoutofthestation.
Hehadtakenoutasmallcombfromhispocket,alsoamicroscopicmirror,andwascarefullyarranginghismoustache,thesymmetryofwhichhadbecomeslightlyimpairedduringourbriskrun.
‘Youseemtofinditso,’Ireplied.‘Tome,itisallrathersordidandunpleasant.There’shardlyanymysteryaboutit.’
‘Iagreewithyou;thereisnomysterywhatever.’
‘Isupposewecanacceptthegirl’sratherextraordinarystoryofheraunt’sinfatuation?Thatseemedtheonlyfishyparttome.Shewassuchanice,respectablewoman.’
‘Thereisnothingextraordinaryaboutthat—itiscompletelyordinary.Ifyoureadthepaperscarefully,youwillfindthatoftenanicerespectablewomanofthatageleavesahusbandshehaslivedwithfortwentyyears,andsometimesawholefamilyofchildrenaswell,inordertolinkherlifewiththatofayoungmanconsiderablyherjunior.Youadmirelesfemmes,Hastings;youprostrateyourselfbeforeallofthemwhoaregood-lookingandhavethegoodtastetosmileuponyou;butpsychologicallyyouknownothingwhateveraboutthem.Intheautumnofawoman’slife,therecomesalwaysonemadmomentwhenshelongsforromance,foradventure—beforeitistoolate.Itcomesnonethelesssurelytoawomanbecausesheisthewifeofarespectabledentistinacountrytown!’
‘Andyouthink—’
‘Thataclevermanmighttakeadvantageofsuchamoment.’
‘Ishouldn’tcallPengelleysoclever,’Imused.‘He’sgotthewholetownbytheears.AndyetIsupposeyou’reright.Theonlytwomenwhoknowanything,Radnorandthedoctor,bothwanttohushitup.He’smanagedthatsomehow.Iwishwe’dseenthefellow.’
‘Youcanindulgeyourwish.Returnbythenexttrainandinventanachingmolar.’
Ilookedathimkeenly.
‘IwishIknewwhatyouconsideredsointerestingaboutthecase.’
‘Myinterestisveryaptlysummedupbyaremarkofyours,Hastings.Afterinterviewingthemaid,youobservedthatforsomeonewhowasnotgoingtosayaword,shehadsaidagooddeal.’
‘Oh!’Isaiddoubtfully;thenIharpedbacktomyoriginalcriticism:‘IwonderwhyyoumadenoattempttoseePengelley?’
‘Monami,Igivehimjustthreemonths.ThenIshallseehimforaslongasIplease—inthedock.’
VII
ForonceIthoughtPoirot’sprognosticationsweregoingtobeprovedwrong.Thetimewentby,andnothingtranspiredastoourCornishcase.Othermattersoccupiedus,andIhadnearlyforgottenthePengelleytragedywhenitwassuddenlyrecalledtomebyashortparagraphinthepaperwhichstatedthatanordertoexhumethebodyofMrsPengelleyhadbeenobtainedfromtheHomeSecretary.
Afewdayslater,and‘TheCornishMystery’wasthetopicofeverypaper.Itseemedthatgossiphadneverentirelydieddown,andwhentheengagementofthewidowertoMissMarks,hissecretary,wasannounced,thetonguesburstoutagainlouderthanever.FinallyapetitionwassenttotheHomeSecretary;thebodywasexhumed;largequantitiesofarsenicwerediscovered;andMrPengelleywasarrestedandchargedwiththemurderofhiswife.
PoirotandIattendedthepreliminaryproceedings.Theevidencewasmuchasmighthavebeenexpected.DrAdamsadmittedthatthesymptomsofarsenicalpoisoningmighteasilybemistakenforthoseofgastritis.TheHomeOfficeexpertgavehisevidence;themaidJessiepouredoutafloodofvolubleinformation,mostofwhichwasrejected,butwhichcertainlystrengthenedthecaseagainsttheprisoner.FredaStantongaveevidenceastoheraunt’sbeingworsewheneversheatefoodpreparedbyherhusband.JacobRadnortoldhowhehaddroppedinunexpectedlyonthedayofMrsPengelley’sdeath,andfoundPengelleyreplacingthebottleofweed-killeronthepantryshelf,MrsPengelley’sgruelbeingonthetablecloseby.ThenMissMarks,thefair-hairedsecretary,wascalled,andweptandwentintohystericsandadmittedthattherehadbeen‘passages’betweenherandheremployer,andthathehadpromisedtomarryherintheeventofanythinghappeningtohiswife.Pengelleyreservedhisdefenceandwassentfortrial.
VIII
JacobRadnorwalkedbackwithustoourlodgings.
‘Yousee,MrRadnor,’saidPoirot,‘Iwasright.Thevoiceofthepeoplespoke—andwithnouncertainvoice.Therewastobenohushingupofthiscase.’
‘Youwerequiteright,’sighedRadnor.‘Doyouseeanychanceofhisgettingoff?’
‘Well,hehasreservedhisdefence.Hemayhavesomething—upthesleeves,asyouEnglishsay.Comeinwithus,willyounot?’
Radnoracceptedtheinvitation.Iorderedtwowhiskiesandsodasandacupofchocolate.Thelastordercausedconsternation,andImuchdoubtedwhetheritwouldeverputinanappearance.
‘Ofcourse,’continuedPoirot,‘Ihaveagooddealofexperienceinmattersofthiskind.AndIseeonlyoneloopholeofescapeforourfriend.’
‘Whatisit?’
‘Thatyoushouldsignthispaper.’
Withthesuddennessofaconjuror,heproducedasheetofpapercoveredwithwriting.
‘Whatisit?’
‘AconfessionthatyoumurderedMrsPengelley.’
Therewasamoment’spause;thenRadnorlaughed.
‘Youmustbemad!’
‘No,no,myfriend,Iamnotmad.Youcamehere;youstartedalittlebusiness;youwereshortofmoney.MrPengelleywasamanverywell-to-do.Youmethisniece;shewasinclinedtosmileuponyou.ButthesmallallowancethatPengelleymighthavegivenheruponhermarriagewasnotenoughforyou.Youmustgetridofboththeuncleandtheaunt;thenthemoneywouldcometoher,sinceshewastheonlyrelative.Howcleverlyyousetaboutit!Youmadelovetothatplainmiddle-agedwomanuntilshewasyourslave.Youimplantedinherdoubtsofherhusband.Shediscoveredfirstthathewasdeceivingher—then,underyourguidance,thathewastryingtopoisonher.Youwereoftenatthehouse;youhadopportunitiestointroducethearsenicintoherfood.Butyouwerecarefulnevertodosowhenherhusbandwasaway.Beingawoman,shedidnotkeephersuspicionstoherself.Shetalkedtoherniece;doubtlessshetalkedtootherwomenfriends.Youronlydifficultywaskeepingupseparaterelationswiththetwowomen,andeventhatwasnotsodifficultasitlooked.Youexplainedtotheauntthat,toallaythesuspicionsofherhusband,youhadtopretendtopaycourttotheniece.Andtheyoungerladyneededlittleconvincing—shewouldneverseriouslyconsiderherauntasarival.
‘ButthenMrsPengelleymadeuphermind,withoutsayinganythingtoyou,toconsultme.Ifshecouldbereallyassured,beyondanypossibledoubt,thatherhusbandwastryingtopoisonher,shewouldfeeljustifiedinleavinghim,andlinkingherlifewithyours—whichiswhatsheimaginedyouwantedhertodo.Butthatdidnotsuityourbookatall.Youdidnotwantadetectivepryingaround.Afavourableminuteoccurs.YouareinthehousewhenMrPengelleyisgettingsomegruelforhiswife,andyouintroducethefataldose.Therestiseasy.Apparentlyanxioustohushmattersup,yousecretlyfomentthem.ButyoureckonedwithoutHerculePoirot,myintelligentyoungfriend.’
Radnorwasdeadlypale,buthestillendeavouredtocarryoffmatterswithahighhand.
‘Veryinterestingandingenious,butwhytellmeallthis?’
‘Because,monsieur,Irepresent—notthelaw,butMrsPengelley.Forhersake,Igiveyouachanceofescape.Signthispaper,andyoushallhavetwenty-fourhours’start—twenty-fourhoursbeforeIplaceitinthehandsofthepolice.’
Radnorhesitated.
‘Youcan’tproveanything.’
‘Can’tI?IamHerculePoirot.Lookoutofthewindow,monsieur.Therearetwomeninthestreet.Theyhaveordersnottolosesightofyou.’
Radnorstrodeacrosstothewindowandpulledasidetheblind,thenshrankbackwithanoath.
‘Yousee,monsieur?Sign—itisyourbestchance.’
‘WhatguaranteehaveI—’
‘ThatIshallkeepfaith?ThewordofHerculePoirot.Youwillsign?Good.Hastings,besokindastopullthatleft-handblindhalf-wayup.ThatisthesignalthatMrRadnormayleaveunmolested.’
White,mutteringoaths,Radnorhurriedfromtheroom.Poirotnoddedgently.
‘Acoward!Ialwaysknewit.’
‘Itseemstome,Poirot,thatyou’veactedinacriminalmanner,’Icriedangrily.‘Youalwayspreachagainstsentiment.Andhereyouarelettingadangerouscriminalescapeoutofsheersentimentality.’
‘Thatwasnotsentiment—thatwasbusiness,’repliedPoirot.‘Doyounotsee,myfriend,thatwehavenoshadowofproofagainsthim?ShallIgetupandsaytotwelvestolidCornishmenthatI,HerculePoirot,know?Theywouldlaughatme.Theonlychancewastofrightenhimandgetaconfessionthatway.ThosetwoloafersthatInoticedoutsidecameinveryuseful.Pulldowntheblindagain,willyou,Hastings.Notthattherewasanyreasonforraisingit.Itwaspartofourmiseenscène
‘Well,well,wemustkeepourword.Twenty-fourhours,didIsay?SomuchlongerforpoorMrPengelley—anditisnotmorethanhedeserves;formarkyou,hedeceivedhiswife.Iamverystrongonthefamilylife,asyouknow.Ah,well,twenty-fourhours—andthen?IhavegreatfaithinScotlandYard.Theywillgethim,monami;theywillgethim.’
TheAdventureofJohnnieWaverly
‘Youcanunderstandthefeelingsofamother,’saidMrsWaverlyforperhapsthesixthtime.
ShelookedappealinglyatPoirot.Mylittlefriend,alwayssympathetictomotherhoodindistress,gesticulatedreassuringly.
‘Butyes,butyes,Icomprehendperfectly.HavefaithinPapaPoirot.’
‘Thepolice—’beganMrWaverly.
Hiswifewavedtheinterruptionaside.‘Iwon’thaveanythingmoretodowiththepolice.Wetrustedtothemandlookwhathappened!ButI’dheardsomuchofM.Poirotandthewonderfulthingshe’ddone,thatIfelthemightpossiblybeabletohelpus.Amother’sfeelings—’
Poirothastilystemmedthereiterationwithaneloquentgesture.MrsWaverly’semotionwasobviouslygenuine,butitassortedstrangelywithhershrewd,ratherhardtypeofcountenance.WhenIheardlaterthatshewasthedaughterofaprominentsteelmanufacturerwhohadworkedhiswayupintheworldfromanofficeboytohispresenteminence,Irealizedthatshehadinheritedmanyofthepaternalqualities.
MrWaverlywasabig,florid,jovial-lookingman.Hestoodwithhislegsstraddledwideapartandlookedthetypeofthecountrysquire.
‘Isupposeyouknowallaboutthisbusiness,M.Poirot?’
Thequestionwasalmostsuperfluous.ForsomedayspastthepapershadbeenfullofthesensationalkidnappingoflittleJohnnieWaverly,thethree-year-oldsonandheirofMarcusWaverly,Esq.,ofWaverlyCourt,Surrey,oneoftheoldestfamiliesinEngland.
‘ThemainfactsIknow,ofcourse,butrecounttomethewholestory,monsieur,Ibegofyou.Andindetailifyouplease.’
‘Well,IsupposethebeginningofthewholethingwasabouttendaysagowhenIgotananonymousletter—beastlythings,anyway—thatIcouldn’tmakeheadortailof.ThewriterhadtheimpudencetodemandthatIshouldpayhimtwenty-fivethousandpounds—twenty-fivethousandpounds,M.Poirot!Failingmyagreement,hethreatenedtokidnapJohnnie.OfcourseIthrewthethingintothewastepaperbasketwithoutmoreado.Thoughtitwassomesillyjoke.FivedayslaterIgotanotherletter.“Unlessyoupay,yoursonwillbekidnappedonthetwenty-ninth.”Thatwasonthetwenty-seventh.Adawasworried,butIcouldn’tbringmyselftotreatthematterseriously.Damnitall,we’reinEngland.Nobodygoesaboutkidnappingchildrenandholdingthemuptoransom.’
‘Itisnotacommonpractice,certainly,’saidPoirot.‘Proceed,monsieur.’
‘Well,Adagavemenopeace,so—feelingabitofafool—IlaidthematterbeforeScotlandYard.Theydidn’tseemtotakethethingveryseriously—inclinedtomyviewthatitwassomesillyjoke.Onthetwenty-eighthIgotathirdletter.“Youhavenotpaid.Yoursonwillbetakenfromyouattwelveo’clocknoontomorrow,thetwenty-ninth.Itwillcostyoufiftythousandpoundstorecoverhim.”UpIdrovetoScotlandYardagain.Thistimetheyweremoreimpressed.Theyinclinedtotheviewthattheletterswerewrittenbyalunatic,andthatinallprobabilityanattemptofsomekindwouldbemadeatthehourstated.Theyassuredmethattheywouldtakealldueprecautions.InspectorMcNeilandasufficientforcewouldcomedowntoWaverlyonthemorrowandtakecharge.
‘Iwenthomemuchrelievedinmind.Yetwealreadyhadthefeelingofbeinginastateofsiege.Igaveordersthatnostrangerwastobeadmitted,andthatnoonewastoleavethehouse.Theeveningpassedoffwithoutanyuntowardincident,butonthefollowingmorningmywifewasseriouslyunwell.Alarmedbyhercondition,IsentforDoctorDakers.Hersymptomsappearedtopuzzlehim.Whilehesitatingtosuggestthatshehadbeenpoisoned,Icouldseethatwaswhatwasinhismind.Therewasnodanger,heassuredme,butitwouldbeadayortwobeforeshewouldbeabletogetaboutagain.Returningtomyownroom,Iwasstartledandamazedtofindanotepinnedtomypillow.Itwasinthesamehandwritingastheothersandcontainedjustthreewords:“Attwelveo’clock”.
‘Iadmit,M.Poirot,thatthenIsawred!Someoneinthehousewasinthis—oneoftheservants.Ihadthemallup,blackguardedthemrightandleft.Theyneversplitoneachother;itwasMissCollins,mywife’scompanion,whoinformedmethatshehadseenJohnnie’snurseslipdownthedriveearlythatmorning.Itaxedherwithit,andshebrokedown.Shehadleftthechildwiththenurserymaidandstolenouttomeetafriendofhers—aman!Prettygoingson!Shedeniedhavingpinnedthenotetomypillow—shemayhavebeenspeakingthetruth,Idon’tknow.IfeltIcouldn’ttaketheriskofthechild’sownnursebeingintheplot.Oneoftheservantswasimplicated—ofthatIwassure.FinallyIlostmytemperandsackedthewholebunch,nurseandall.Igavethemanhourtopacktheirboxesandgetoutofthehouse.’
MrWaverly’sfacewasquitetwoshadesredderasherememberedhisjustwrath
‘Wasnotthatalittleinjudicious,monsieur?’suggestedPoirot.‘Forallyouknow,youmighthavebeenplayingintotheenemy’shands.’
MrWaverlystaredathim.‘Idon’tseethat.Sendthewholelotpacking,thatwasmyidea.IwiredtoLondonforafreshlottobesentdownthatevening.Inthemeantime,there’dbeonlypeopleIcouldtrustinthehouse:mywife’ssecretary,MissCollins,andTredwell,thebutler,whohasbeenwithmesinceIwasaboy.’
‘AndthisMissCollins,howlonghasshebeenwithyou?’
‘Justayear,’saidMrsWaverly.‘Shehasbeeninvaluabletomeasasecretary-companion,andisalsoaveryefficienthousekeeper.’
‘Thenurse?’
‘Shehasbeenwithmesixmonths.Shecametomewithexcellentreferences.Allthesame,Ineverreallylikedher,althoughJohnniewasquitedevotedtoher.’
‘Still,Igathershehadalreadyleftwhenthecatastropheoccurred.Perhaps,MonsieurWaverly,youwillbesokindastocontinue.’
MrWaverlyresumedhisnarrative.
‘InspectorMcNeilarrivedaboutten-thirty.Theservantshadallleftbythen.Hedeclaredhimselfquitesatisfiedwiththeinternalarrangements.Hehadvariousmenpostedintheparkoutside,guardingalltheapproachestothehouse,andheassuredmethatifthewholethingwerenotahoax,weshouldundoubtedlycatchmymysteriouscorrespondent
‘IhadJohnniewithme,andheandIandtheinspectorwenttogetherintotheroomwecallthecouncilchamber.Theinspectorlockedthedoor.Thereisabiggrandfatherclockthere,andasthehandsdrewneartotwelveIdon’tmindconfessingthatIwasasnervousasacat.Therewasawhirringsound,andtheclockbegantostrike.IclutchedatJohnnie.Ihadafeelingamanmightdropfromtheskies.Thelaststrokesounded,andasitdidso,therewasagreatcommotionoutside—shoutingandrunning.Theinspectorflungupthewindow,andaconstablecamerunningup.
‘“We’vegothimsir,”hepanted.“Hewassneakingupthroughthebushes.He’sgotawholedopeoutfitonhim.”
‘Wehurriedoutontheterracewheretwoconstableswereholdingaruffianly-lookingfellowinshabbyclothes,whowastwistingandturninginavainendeavourtoescape.Oneofthepolicemenheldoutanunrolledparcelwhichtheyhadwrestedfromtheircaptive.Itcontainedapadofcottonwoolandabottleofchloroform.Itmademybloodboiltoseeit.Therewasanote,too,addressedtome.Itoreitopen.Itborethefollowingwords:“Youshouldhavepaidup.Toransomyoursonwillnowcostyoufiftythousand.Inspiteofallyourprecautionshehasbeenabductedonthetwenty-ninthasIsaid.”
‘Igaveagreatlaugh,thelaughofrelief,butasIdidsoIheardthehumofamotorandashout.Iturnedmyhead.Racingdownthedrivetowardsthesouthlodgeatafuriousspeedwasalow,longgreycar.Itwasthemanwhodroveitwhoshouted,butthatwasnotwhatgavemeashockofhorror.ItwasthesightofJohnnie’sflaxencurls.Thechildwasinthecarbesidehim.
‘Theinspectorrippedoutanoath.“Thechildwasherenotaminuteago,”hecried.Hiseyessweptoverus.Wewereallthere:myself,Tredwell,MissCollins.“Whendidyoulastseehim,MrWaverly?”
‘Icastmymindback,tryingtoremember.Whentheconstablehadcalledus,Ihadrunoutwiththeinspector,forgettingallaboutJohnnie.
‘Andthentherecameasoundthatstartledus,thechimingofachurchclockfromthevillage.Withanexclamationtheinspectorpulledouthiswatch.Itwasexactlytwelveo’clock.Withonecommonaccordwerantothecouncilchamber;theclocktheremarkedthehourastenminutespast.Someonemusthavedeliberatelytamperedwithit,forIhaveneverknownitgainorlosebefore.Itisaperfecttimekeeper.’
MrWaverlypaused.Poirotsmiledtohimselfandstraightenedalittlematwhichtheanxiousfatherhadpushedaskew.
‘Apleasinglittleproblem,obscureandcharming,’murmuredPoirot.‘Iwillinvestigateitforyouwithpleasure.Trulyitwasplannedàmerveille.’
MrsWaverlylookedathimreproachfully.‘Butmyboy,’shewailed.
Poirothastilycomposedhisfaceandlookedthepictureofearnestsympathyagain.‘Heissafe,madame,heisunharmed.Restassured,thesemiscreantswilltakethegreatestcareofhim.Ishenottothemtheturkey—no,thegoose—thatlaysthegoldeneggs?’
‘M.Poirot,I’msurethere’sonlyonethingtobedone—payup.Iwasallagainstitatfirst—butnow!Amother’sfeelings—’
‘Butwehaveinterruptedmonsieurinhishistory,’criedPoirothastily.
‘Iexpectyouknowtherestprettywellfromthepapers,’saidMrWaverly.‘Ofcourse,InspectorMcNeilgotontothetelephoneimmediately.Adescriptionofthecarandthemanwascirculatedallround,anditlookedatfirstasthougheverythingwasgoingtoturnoutallright.Acar,answeringtothedescription,withamanandasmallboy,hadpassedthroughvariousvillages,apparentlymakingforLondon.Atoneplacetheyhadstopped,anditwasnoticedthatthechildwascryingandobviouslyafraidofhiscompanion.WhenInspectorMcNeilannouncedthatthecarhadbeenstoppedandthemanandboydetained,Iwasalmostillwithrelief.Youknowthesequel.TheboywasnotJohnnie,andthemanwasanardentmotorist,fondofchildren,whohadpickedupasmallchildplayinginthestreetsofEdenswell,avillageaboutfifteenmilesfromus,andwaskindlygivinghimaride.Thankstothecocksureblunderingofthepolice,alltraceshavedisappeared.Hadtheynotpersistentlyfollowedthewrongcar,theymightbynowhavefoundtheboy.’
‘Calmyourself,monsieur.Thepoliceareabraveandintelligentforceofmen.Theirmistakewasaverynaturalone.Andaltogetheritwasacleverscheme.Astothemantheycaughtinthegrounds,Iunderstandthathisdefencehasconsistedallalongofapersistentdenial.HedeclaredthatthenoteandparcelweregiventohimtodeliveratWaverlyCourt.Themanwhogavethemtohimhandedhimaten-shillingnoteandpromisedhimanotherifitweredeliveredatexactlytenminutestotwelve.Hewastoapproachthehousethroughthegroundsandknockatthesidedoor.’
‘Idon’tbelieveawordofit,’declaredMrsWaverlyhotly.‘It’sallaparceloflies.’
‘Enverité,itisathinstory,’saidPoirotreflectively.‘Butsofartheyhavenotshakenit.Iunderstand,also,thathemadeacertainaccusation?’
HisglanceinterrogatedMrWaverly.Thelattergotratherredagain.
‘ThefellowhadtheimpertinencetopretendthatherecognizedinTredwellthemanwhogavehimtheparcel.“Onlytheblokehasshavedoffhismoustache.”Tredwell,whowasbornontheestate!’
Poirotsmiledalittleatthecountrygentleman’sindignation.‘Yetyouyourselfsuspectaninmateofthehousetohavebeenaccessorytotheabduction.’
‘Yes,butnotTredwell.’
‘Andyou,madame?’askedPoirot,suddenlyturningtoher.
‘ItcouldnothavebeenTredwellwhogavethistramptheletterandparcel—ifanybodyeverdid,whichIdon’tbelieve.Itwasgivenhimatteno’clock,hesays.Atteno’clockTredwellwaswithmyhusbandinthesmoking-room.’
‘Wereyouabletoseethefaceofthemaninthecar,monsieur?DiditresemblethatofTredwellinanyway?’
‘Itwastoofarawayformetoseehisface.’
‘HasTredwellabrother,doyouknow?’
‘Hehadseveral,buttheyarealldead.Thelastonewaskilledinthewar.’
‘IamnotyetclearastothegroundsofWaverlyCourt.Thecarwasheadingforthesouthlodge.Isthereanotherentrance?’
‘Yes,whatwecalltheeastlodge.Itcanbeseenfromtheothersideofthehouse.’
‘Itseemstomestrangethatnobodysawthecarenteringthegrounds.’
‘Thereisarightofwaythrough,andaccesstoasmallchapel.Agoodmanycarspassthrough.Themanmusthavestoppedthecarinaconvenientplaceandrunuptothehousejustasthealarmwasgivenandattentionattractedelsewhere.’
‘Unlesshewasalreadyinsidethehouse,’musedPoirot.‘Isthereanyplacewherehecouldhavehidden?’
‘Well,wecertainlydidn’tmakeathoroughsearchofthehousebeforehand.Thereseemednoneed.Isupposehemighthavehiddenhimselfsomewhere,butwhowouldhavelethimin?’
‘Weshallcometothatlater.Onethingatatime—letusbemethodical.Thereisnospecialhiding-placeinthehouse?WaverlyCourtisanoldplace,andtherearesometimes“priests’holes”,astheycallthem.’
‘Bygad,thereisapriest’shole.Itopensfromoneofthepanelsinthehall.’
‘Nearthecouncilchamber?’
‘Justoutsidethedoor.’
‘Voilà!’
‘Butnobodyknowsofitsexistenceexceptmywifeandmyself.’
‘Tredwell?’
‘Well—hemighthaveheardofit.’
‘MissCollins?’
‘Ihavenevermentionedittoher.’
Poirotreflectedforaminute.
‘Well,monsieur,thenextthingisformetocomedowntoWaverlyCourt.IfIarrivethisafternoon,willitsuityou?’
‘Oh,assoonaspossible,please,MonsieurPoirot!’criedMrsWaverly.‘Readthisoncemore.’
ShethrustintohishandsthelastmissivefromtheenemywhichhadreachedtheWaverlysthatmorningandwhichhadsentherpost-hastetoPoirot.Itgavecleverandexplicitdirectionsforthepayingoverofthemoney,andendedwithathreatthattheboy’slifewouldpayforanytreachery.ItwasclearthataloveofmoneywarredwiththeessentialmotherloveofMrsWaverly,andthatthelatterwasatlastgainingtheday
PoirotdetainedMrsWaverlyforaminutebehindherhusband.
‘Madame,thetruth,ifyouplease.Doyoushareyourhusband’sfaithinthebutler,Tredwell?’
‘Ihavenothingagainsthim,MonsieurPoirot,Icannotseehowhecanhavebeenconcernedinthis,but—well,Ihaveneverlikedhim—never!’
‘Oneotherthing,madame,canyougivemetheaddressofthechild’snurse?’
‘149NetherallRoad,Hammersmith.Youdon’timagine—’
‘NeverdoIimagine.Only—Iemploythelittlegreycells.Andsometimes,justsometimes,Ihavealittleidea.’
Poirotcamebacktomeasthedoorclosed.
‘Somadamehasneverlikedthebutler.Itisinteresting,that,eh,Hastings?’
Irefusedtobedrawn.PoirothasdeceivedmesooftenthatInowgowarily.Thereisalwaysacatchsomewhere.
Aftercompletinganelaborateoutdoortoilet,wesetoffforNetherallRoad.WewerefortunateenoughtofindMissJessieWithersathome.Shewasapleasant-facedwomanofthirty-five,capableandsuperior.Icouldnotbelievethatshecouldbemixedupintheaffair.Shewasbitterlyresentfulofthewayshehadbeendismissed,butadmittedthatshehadbeeninthewrong.Shewasengagedtobemarriedtoapainteranddecoratorwhohappenedtobeintheneighbourhood,andshehadrunouttomeethim.Thethingseemednaturalenough.IcouldnotquiteunderstandPoirot.Allhisquestionsseemedtomequiteirrelevant.TheywereconcernedmainlywiththedailyroutineofherlifeatWaverlyCourt.IwasfranklyboredandgladwhenPoirottookhisdeparture.
‘Kidnappingisaneasyjob,monami,’heobserved,ashehailedataxiintheHammersmithRoadandorderedittodrivetoWaterloo.‘Thatchildcouldhavebeenabductedwiththegreatesteaseanydayforthelastthreeyears.’
‘Idon’tseethatthatadvancesusmuch,’Iremarkedcoldly.
‘Aucontraire,itadvancesusenormously,butenormously!Ifyoumustwearatiepin,Hastings,atleastletitbeintheexactcentreofyourtie.Atpresentitisatleastasixteenthofaninchtoomuchtotheright.’
WaverlyCourtwasafineoldplaceandhadrecentlybeenrestoredwithtasteandcare.MrWaverlyshowedusthecouncilchamber,theterrace,andallthevariousspotsconnectedwiththecase.Finally,atPoirot’srequest,hepressedaspringinthewall,apanelslidaside,andashortpassageledusintothepriest’shole.
‘Yousee,’saidWaverly.‘Thereisnothinghere.’
Thetinyroomwasbareenough,therewasnoteventhemarkofafootsteponthefloor.IjoinedPoirotwherehewasbendingattentivelyoveramarkinthecorner.
‘Whatdoyoumakeofthis,myfriend?’
Therewerefourimprintsclosetogether
‘Adog,’Icried.
‘Averysmalldog,Hastings.’
‘APom.’
‘SmallerthanaPom.’
‘Agriffon?’Isuggesteddoubtfully.
‘Smallereventhanagriffon.AspeciesunknowntotheKennelClub.’
Ilookedathim.Hisfacewasalightwithexcitementandsatisfaction.
‘Iwasright,’hemurmured.‘IknewIwasright.Come,Hastings.’
Aswesteppedoutintothehallandthepanelclosedbehindus,ayoungladycameoutofadoorfartherdownthepassage.MrWaverlypresentedhertous.
‘MissCollins.’
MissCollinswasaboutthirtyyearsofage,briskandalertinmanner.Shehadfair,ratherdullhair,andworepince-nez.
AtPoirot’srequest,wepassedintoasmallmorning-room,andhequestionedhercloselyastotheservantsandparticularlyastoTredwell.Sheadmittedthatshedidnotlikethebutler.
‘Hegiveshimselfairs,’sheexplained.
TheythenwentintothequestionofthefoodeatenbyMrsWaverlyonthenightofthe28th.MissCollinsdeclaredthatshehadpartakenofthesamedishesupstairsinhersitting-roomandhadfeltnoilleffects.AsshewasdepartingInudgedPoirot.
‘Thedog,’Iwhispered.
‘Ah,yes,thedog!’Hesmiledbroadly.‘Isthereadogkeptherebyanychance,mademoiselle?’
‘Therearetworetrieversinthekennelsoutside.’
‘No,Imeanasmalldog,atoydog.’
‘No—nothingofthekind.’
Poirotpermittedhertodepart.Then,pressingthebell,heremarkedtome,‘Shelies,thatMademoiselleCollins.PossiblyIshould,also,inherplace.Nowforthebutler.’
Tredwellwasadignifiedindividual.Hetoldhisstorywithperfectaplomb,anditwasessentiallythesameasthatofMrWaverly.Headmittedthatheknewthesecretofthepriest’shole.
Whenhefinallywithdrew,pontificaltothelast,ImetPoirot’squizzicaleyes.
‘Whatdoyoumakeofitall,Hastings?’
‘Whatdoyou?’Iparried.
‘Howcautiousyoubecome.Never,neverwillthegreycellsfunctionunlessyoustimulatethem.Ah,butIwillnotteaseyou!Letusmakeourdeductionstogether.Whatpointsstrikeusspeciallyasbeingdifficult?’
‘Thereisonethingthatstrikesme,’Isaid.‘Whydidthemanwhokidnappedthechildgooutbythesouthlodgeinsteadofbytheeastlodgewherenoonewouldseehim?’
‘Thatisaverygoodpoint,Hastings,anexcellentone.Iwillmatchitwithanother.WhywarntheWaverlysbeforehand?Whynotsimplykidnapthechildandholdhimtoransom?’
‘Becausetheyhopedtogetthemoneywithoutbeingforcedtoaction.’
‘Surelyitwasveryunlikelythatthemoneywouldbepaidonamerethreat?’
‘Alsotheywantedtofocusattentionontwelveo’clock,sothatwhenthetrampmanwasseized,theothercouldemergefromhishiding-placeandgetawaywiththechildunnoticed.’
‘Thatdoesnotalterthefactthattheyweremakingathingdifficultthatwasperfectlyeasy.Iftheydonotspecifyatimeordate,nothingwouldbeeasierthantowaittheirchance,andcarryoffthechildinamotoronedaywhenheisoutwithhisnurse.’
‘Ye—es,’Iadmitteddoubtfully.
‘Infact,thereisadeliberateplayingofthefarce!Nowletusapproachthequestionfromanotherside.Everythinggoestoshowthattherewasanaccompliceinsidethehouse.Pointnumberone,themysteriouspoisoningofMrsWaverly.Pointnumbertwo,theletterpinnedtothepillow.Pointnumberthree,theputtingonoftheclocktenminutes—allinsidejobs.Andanadditionalfactthatyoumaynothavenoticed.Therewasnodustinthepriest’shole.Ithadbeensweptoutwithabroom.
‘Nowthen,wehavefourpeopleinthehouse.Wecanexcludethenurse,sinceshecouldnothavesweptoutthepriest’shole,thoughshecouldhaveattendedtotheotherthreepoints.Fourpeople,MrandMrsWaverly,Tredwell,thebutler,andMissCollins.WewilltakeMissCollinsfirst.Wehavenothingmuchagainsther,exceptthatweknowverylittleabouther,thatsheisobviouslyanintelligentyoungwoman,andthatshehasonlybeenhereayear.’
‘Sheliedaboutthedog,yousaid,’Iremindedhim.
‘Ah,yes,thedog.’Poirotgaveapeculiarsmile.‘NowletuspasstoTredwell.Thereareseveralsuspiciousfactsagainsthim.Foronething,thetrampdeclaresthatitwasTredwellwhogavehimtheparcelinthevillage.’
‘ButTredwellcanproveanalibionthatpoint.’
‘Eventhen,hecouldhavepoisonedMrsWaverly,pinnedthenotetothepillow,putontheclock,andsweptoutthepriest’shole.Ontheotherhand,hehasbeenbornandbredintheserviceoftheWaverlys.Itseemsunlikelyinthelastdegreethatheshouldconniveattheabductionofthesonofthehouse.Itisnotinthepicture!’
‘Well,then?’
‘Wemustproceedlogically—howeverabsurditmayseem.WewillbrieflyconsiderMrsWaverly.Butsheisrich,themoneyishers.Itishermoneywhichhasrestoredthisimpoverishedestate.Therewouldbenoreasonforhertokidnaphersonandpayoverhermoneytoherself.Thehusband,no,isinadifferentposition.Hehasarichwife.Itisnotthesamethingasbeingrichhimself—infactIhavealittleideathattheladyisnotveryfondofpartingwithhermoney,exceptonaverygoodpretext.ButMrWaverly,youcanseeatonce,heisabonviveur.’
‘Impossible,’Ispluttered.
‘Notatall.Whosendsawaytheservants?MrWaverly.Hecanwritethenotes,drughiswife,putonthehandsoftheclock,andestablishanexcellentalibiforhisfaithfulretainerTredwell.TredwellhasneverlikedMrsWaverly.Heisdevotedtohismasterandiswillingtoobeyhisordersimplicitly.Therewerethreeoftheminit.Waverly,Tredwell,andsomefriendofWaverly.Thatisthemistakethepolicemade,theymadenofurtherinquiriesaboutthemanwhodrovethegreycarwiththewrongchildinit.Hewasthethirdman.Hepicksupachildinavillagenearby,aboywithflaxencurls.Hedrivesinthroughtheeastlodgeandpassesoutthroughthesouthlodgejustattherightmoment,wavinghishandandshouting.Theycannotseehisfaceorthenumberofthecar,soobviouslytheycannotseethechild’sface,either.ThenhelaysafalsetrailtoLondon.Inthemeantime,Tredwellhasdonehispartinarrangingfortheparcelandnotetobedeliveredbyarough-lookinggentleman.Hismastercanprovideanalibiintheunlikelycaseofthemanrecognizinghim,inspiteofthefalsemoustachehewore.AsforMrWaverly,assoonasthehullabaloooccursoutside,andtheinspectorrushesout,hequicklyhidesthechildinthepriest’shole,followshimout.Laterintheday,whentheinspectorisgoneandMissCollinsisoutoftheway,itwillbeeasyenoughtodrivehimofftosomesafeplaceinhisowncar.’
‘Butwhataboutthedog?’Iasked.‘AndMissCollinslying?’
‘Thatwasmylittlejoke.Iaskedheriftherewereanytoydogsinthehouse,andshesaidno—butdoubtlesstherearesome—inthenursery!Yousee,MrWaverlyplacedsometoysinthepriest’sholetokeepJohnnieamusedandquiet.’
‘M.Poirot—’MrWaverlyenteredtheroom—‘haveyoudiscoveredanything?Haveyouanycluetowheretheboyhasbeentaken?’
Poirothandedhimapieceofpaper.‘Hereistheaddress.’
‘Butthisisablanksheet.’
‘BecauseIamwaitingforyoutowriteitdownforme.’
‘Whatthe—’MrWaverly’sfaceturnedpurple.
‘Iknoweverything,monsieur.Igiveyoutwenty-fourhourstoreturntheboy.Youringenuitywillbeequaltothetaskofexplaininghisreappearance.Otherwise,MrsWaverlywillbeinformedoftheexactsequenceofevents.’
MrWaverlysankdowninachairandburiedhisfaceinhishands.‘Heiswithmyoldnurse,tenmilesaway.Heishappyandwellcaredfor.’
‘Ihavenodoubtofthat.IfIdidnotbelieveyoutobeagoodfatheratheart,Ishouldnotbewillingtogiveyouanotherchance.’
‘Thescandal—’
‘Exactly.Yournameisanoldandhonouredone.Donotjeopardizeitagain.Goodevening,MrWaverly.Ah,bytheway,onewordofadvice.Alwayssweepinthecorners!’
TheDoubleClue
I
‘Butaboveeverything—nopublicity,’saidMrMarcusHardmanforperhapsthefourteenthtime.
Thewordpublicityoccurredthroughouthisconversationwiththeregularityofaleitmotif.MrHardmanwasasmallman,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?’
‘MrJohnston.Youmayknowhim?TheSouthAfricanmillionaire.HehasjustrentedtheAbbotburys’houseinParkLane.Helingeredbehindafewmoments,Iremember.Butsurely,oh,surelyitcouldnotbehe!’
‘Didanyofyourguestsreturntothisroomduringtheafternoononanypretext?’
‘Iwaspreparedforthatquestion,MonsieurPoirot.Threeofthemdidso.CountessVeraRossakoff,MrBernardParker,andLadyRuncorn.’
‘Letushearaboutthem.’
‘TheCountessRossakoffisaverycharmingRussianlady,amemberoftheoldrégime.Shehasrecentlycometothiscountry.Shehadbademegoodbye,andIwasthereforesomewhatsurprisedtofindherinthisroomapparentlygazinginraptureatmycabinetoffans.Youknow,MonsieurPoirot,themoreIthinkofit,themoresuspiciousitseemstome.Don’tyouagree?’
‘Extremelysuspicious;butletushearabouttheothers.’
‘Well,ParkersimplycameheretofetchacaseofminiaturesthatIwasanxioustoshowtoLadyRuncorn.’
‘AndLadyRuncornherself?’
‘AsIdaresayyouknow,LadyRuncornisamiddle-agedwomanofconsiderableforceofcharacterwhodevotesmostofhertimetovariouscharitablecommittees.Shesimplyreturnedtofetchahandbagshehadlaiddownsomewhere.’
‘Bien,monsieur.Sowehavefourpossiblesuspects.TheRussiancountess,theEnglishgrandedame,theSouthAfricanmillionaire,andMrBernardParker.WhoisMrParker,bytheway?’
ThequestionappearedtoembarrassMrHardmanconsiderably.
‘Heis—er—heisayoungfellow.Well,infact,ayoungfellowIknow.’
‘Ihadalreadydeducedasmuch,’repliedPoirotgravely.‘Whatdoeshedo,thisMrParker?’
‘Heisayoungmanabouttown—not,perhaps,quiteintheswim,ifImaysoexpressmyself.’
‘Howdidhecometobeafriendofyours,mayIask?’
‘Well—er—ononeortwooccasionshehas—performedcertainlittlecommissionsforme.’
‘Continue,monsieur,’saidPoirot.
Hardmanlookedpiteouslyathim.Evidentlythelastthinghewantedtodowastocontinue.ButasPoirotmaintainedaninexorablesilence,hecapitulated.
‘Yousee,MonsieurPoirot—itiswellknownthatIaminterestedinantiquejewels.Sometimesthereisafamilyheirloomtobedisposedof—which,mindyou,wouldneverbesoldintheopenmarketortoadealer.Butaprivatesaletomeisaverydifferentmatter.Parkerarrangesthedetailsofsuchthings,heisintouchwithbothsides,andthusanylittleembarrassmentisavoided.Hebringsanythingofthatkindtomynotice.Forinstance,theCountessRossakoffhasbroughtsomefamilyjewelswithherfromRussia.Sheisanxioustosellthem.BernardParkerwastohavearrangedthetransaction.’
‘Isee,’saidPoirotthoughtfully.‘Andyoutrusthimimplicitly?’
‘Ihavehadnoreasontodootherwise.’
‘MrHardman,ofthesefourpeople,whichdoyouyourselfsuspect?’
‘Oh,MonsieurPoirot,whataquestion!Theyaremyfriends,asItoldyou.Isuspectnoneofthem—orallofthem,whicheverwayyouliketoputit.’
‘Idonotagree.Yoususpectoneofthosefour.ItisnotCountessRossakoff.ItisnotMrParker.IsitLadyRuncornorMrJohnston?’
‘Youdrivemeintoacorner,MonsieurPoirot,youdoindeed.Iammostanxioustohavenoscandal.LadyRuncornbelongstooneoftheoldestfamiliesinEngland;butitistrue,itismostunfortunatelytrue,thatheraunt,LadyCaroline,sufferedfromamostmelancholyaffliction.Itwasunderstood,ofcourse,byallherfriends,andhermaidreturnedtheteaspoons,orwhateveritwas,aspromptlyaspossible.Youseemypredicament!’
‘SoLadyRuncornhadanauntwhowasaklepto-maniac?Veryinteresting.YoupermitthatIexaminethesafe?’
MrHardmanassenting,Poirotpushedbackthedoorofthesafeandexaminedtheinterior.Theemptyvelvet-linedshelvesgapedatus.
‘Evennowthedoordoesnotshutproperly,’murmuredPoirot,asheswungittoandfro.‘Iwonderwhy?Ah,whathavewehere?Aglove,caughtinthehinge.Aman’sglove.’
HehelditouttoMrHardman.
‘That’snotoneofmygloves,’thelatterdeclared.
‘Aha!Somethingmore!’Poirotbentdeftlyandpickedupasmallobjectfromthefloorofthesafe.Itwasaflatcigarettecasemadeofblackmoiré.
‘Mycigarettecase!’criedMrHardman
‘Yours?Surelynot,monsieur.Thosearenotyourinitials.’
Hepointedtoanentwinedmonogramoftwolettersexecutedinplatinum.
Hardmantookitinhishand.
‘Youareright,’hedeclared.‘Itisverylikemine,buttheinitialsaredifferent.A“B”anda“P”.Goodheavens—Parker!’
‘Itwouldseemso,’saidPoirot.‘Asomewhatcarlessyoungman—especiallyifthegloveishisalso.Thatwouldbeadoubleclue,woulditnot?’
‘BernardParker!’murmuredHardman.‘Whatarelief!Well,MonsieurPoirot,Ileaveittoyoutorecoverthejewels.Placethematterinthehandsofthepoliceifyouthinkfit—thatis,ifyouarequitesurethatitishewhoisguilty.’
II
‘Seeyou,myfriend,’saidPoirottome,asweleftthehousetogether,‘hehasonelawforthetitled,andanotherlawfortheplain,thisMrHardman.Me,Ihavenotyetbeenennobled,soIamonthesideoftheplain.Ihavesympathyforthisyoungman.Thewholethingwasalittlecurious,wasitnot?TherewasHardmansuspectingLadyRuncorn;therewasI,suspectingtheCountessandJohnston;andallthetime,theobscureMrParkerwasourman.’
‘Whydidyoususpecttheothertwo?’
‘Parbleu!ItissuchasimplethingtobeaRussianrefugeeoraSouthAfricanmillionaire.AnywomancancallherselfaRussiancountess;anyonecanbuyahouseinParkLaneandcallhimselfaSouthAfricanmillionaire.Whoisgoingtocontradictthem?ButIobservethatwearepassingthroughBuryStreet.Ourcarelessyoungfriendliveshere.Letus,asyousay,strikewhiletheironisinthefire.’
MrBernardParkerwasathome.Wefoundhimrecliningonsomecushions,cladinanamazingdressing-gownofpurpleandorange.IhaveseldomtakenagreaterdisliketoanyonethanIdidtothisparticularyoungmanwithhiswhite,effeminatefaceandaffectedlispingspeech.
‘Goodmorning,monsieur,’saidPoirotbriskly.‘IcomefromMrHardman.Yesterday,attheparty,somebodyhasstolenallhisjewels.Permitmetoaskyou,monsieur—isthisyourglove?’
MrParker’smentalprocessesdidnotseemveryrapid.Hestaredattheglove,asthoughgatheringhiswitstogether.
‘Wheredidyoufindit?’heaskedatlast.
‘Isityourglove,monsieur?’
MrParkerappearedtomakeuphismind.
‘No,itisn’t,’hedeclared.
‘Andthiscigarettecase,isthatyours?’
‘Certainlynot.Ialwayscarryasilverone.’
‘Verywell,monsieur.Igotoputmattersinthehandsofthepolice.’
‘Oh,Isay,Iwouldn’tdothatifIwereyou,’criedMrParkerinsomeconcern.‘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,heannouncedhisintentionofcallinguponMrHardmanearlyintheday.Wefoundtheelderlysocialbutterflyathome,andseeminglyalittlecalmerthanonthepreviousday.
‘Well,MonsieurPoirot,anynews?’hedemandedeagerly.
Poirothandedhimaslipofpaper.
‘Thatisthepersonwhotookthejewels,monsieur.ShallIputmattersinthehandsofthepolice?Orwouldyouprefermetorecoverthejewelswithoutbringingthepoliceintothematter?’
MrHardmanwasstaringatthepaper.Atlasthefoundhisvoice.
‘Mostastonishing.Ishouldinfinitelyprefertohavenoscandalinthematter.Igiveyoucarteblanche,MonsieurPoirot.Iamsureyouwillbediscreet.’
Ournextprocedurewastohailataxi,whichPoirotorderedtodrivetotheCarlton.ThereheinquiredforCountessRossakoff.Inafewminuteswewereusheredupintothelady’ssuite.Shecametomeetuswithoutstretchedhands,arrayedinamarvellousnegligéeofbarbaricdesign.
‘MonsieurPoirot!’shecried.‘Youhavesucceeded?Youhaveclearedthatpoorinfant?’
‘MadamelaComtesse,yourfriendMrParkerisperfectlysafefromarrest.’
‘Ah,butyouarethecleverlittleman!Superb!Andsoquicklytoo.’
‘Ontheotherhand,IhavepromisedMrHardmanthatthejewelsshallbereturnedtohimtoday.’
‘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.Goodbye,MonsieurPoirot.’
‘Goodbye,MadamelaComtesse.Ah—pardonme,Iforgot!Allowmetoreturnyouyourcigarettecase.’
Andwithabowhehandedtoherthelittleblackmoirécasewehadfoundinthesafe.Sheaccepteditwithoutanychangeofexpression—justaliftedeyebrowandamurmured:‘Isee!’
III
‘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.MrJohnston?Onlyifhewerehereunderafalsename.Iinterviewedhissecretary,anditwasapparentatoncethateverythingwasclearandaboveboard.TherewasnoreticenceaboutMrJohnston’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?’
TheKingofClubs
I
‘Truth,’Iobserved,layingasidetheDailyNewsmonger,‘isstrangerthanfiction!’
Theremarkwasnot,perhaps,anoriginalone.Itappearedtoincensemyfriend.Tiltinghisegg-shapedheadononeside,thelittlemancarefullyflickedanimaginaryfleckofdustfromhiscarefullycreasedtrousers,andobserved:‘Howprofound!WhatathinkerismyfriendHastings!’
Withoutdisplayinganyannoyanceatthisquiteuncalled-forgibe,ItappedthesheetIhadlaidaside.
‘You’vereadthismorning’spaper?’
‘Ihave.Andafterreadingit,Ifoldeditanewsymmetrically.Ididnotcastitonthefloorasyouhavedone,withyoursolamentableabsenceoforderandmethod.’
(ThatistheworstofPoirot.OrderandMethodarehisgods.Hegoessofarastoattributeallhissuccesstothem.)
‘ThenyousawtheaccountofthemurderofHenryReedburn,theimpresario?Itwasthatwhichpromptedmyremark.Notonlyistruthstrangerthanfiction—itismoredramatic.Thinkofthatsolidmiddle-classEnglishfamily,theOglanders.Fatherandmother,sonanddaughter,typicalofthousandsoffamiliesalloverthiscountry.Themenofthefamilygotothecityeveryday;thewomenlookafterthehouse.Theirlivesareperfectlypeaceful,andutterlymonotonous.Lastnighttheyweresittingintheirneatsuburbandrawing-roomatDaisymead,Streatham,playingbridge.Suddenly,withoutanywarning,thefrenchwindowburstsopen,andawomanstaggersintotheroom.Hergreysatinfrockismarkedwithacrimsonstain.Sheuttersoneword,“Murder!”beforeshesinkstothegroundinsensible.ItispossiblethattheyrecognizeherfromherpicturesasValerieSaintclair,thefamousdancerwhohaslatelytakenLondonbystorm!’
‘Isthisyoureloquence,orthatoftheDailyNewsmonger?’inquiredPoirot.
‘TheDailyNewsmongerwasinahurrytogotopress,andcontenteditselfwithbarefacts.Butthedramaticpossibilitiesofthestorystruckmeatonce.’
Poirotnoddedthoughtfully.‘Whereverthereishumannature,thereisdrama.But—itisnotalwaysjustwhereyouthinkitis.Rememberthat.Still,Itooaminterestedinthecase,sinceitislikelythatIshallbeconnectedwithit.’
‘Indeed?’
‘Yes.Agentlemanrangmeupthismorning,andmadeanappointmentwithmeonbehalfofPrincePaulofMaurania.’
‘Butwhathasthattodowithit?’
‘YoudonotreadyourprettylittleEnglishscandal-papers.Theoneswiththefunnystories,and“alittlemousehasheard—”or“alittlebirdwouldliketoknow—”Seehere.’
Ifollowedhisshortstubbyfingeralongtheparagraph:‘—whethertheforeignprinceandthefamousdancerarereallyaffinities!Andiftheladylikeshernewdiamondring!’
‘Andnowtoresumeyoursodramaticnarrative,’saidPoirot.‘MademoiselleSaintclairhadjustfaintedonthedrawing-roomcarpetatDaisymead,youremember.’
Ishrugged.‘AsaresultofMademoiselle’sfirstmurmuredwordswhenshecameround,thetwomaleOglanderssteppedout,onetofetchadoctortoattendtothelady,whowasevidentlysufferingterriblyfromshock,andtheothertothepolice-station—whenceaftertellinghisstory,heaccompaniedthepolicetoMonDésir,MrReedburn’smagnificentvilla,whichissituatedatnogreatdistancefromDaisymead.Theretheyfoundthegreatman,whobythewaysuffersfromasomewhatunsavouryreputation,lyinginthelibrarywiththebackofhisheadcrackedopenlikeaneggshell.’
‘Ihavecrampedyourstyle,’saidPoirotkindly.‘Forgiveme,Ipray…Ah,hereisM.lePrince!’
OurdistinguishedvisitorwasannouncedunderthetitleofCountFeodor.Hewasastrange-lookingyouth,tall,eager,withaweakchin,thefamousMauranbergmouth,andthedarkfieryeyesofafanatic.
‘M.Poirot?’
Myfriendbowed.
‘Monsieur,Iaminterribletrouble,greaterthanIcanwellexpress—’
Poirotwavedhishand.‘Icomprehendyouranxiety.MademoiselleSaintclairisaverydearfriend,isitnotso?’
Theprincerepliedsimply:‘Ihopetomakehermywife.’
Poirotsatupinhischair,andhiseyesopened.
Theprincecontinued:‘Ishouldnotbethefirstofmyfamilytomakeamorganaticmarriage.MybrotherAlexanderhasalsodefiedtheEmperor.Wearelivingnowinmoreenlighteneddays,freefromtheoldcaste-prejudice.Besides,MademoiselleSaintclair,inactualfact,isquitemyequalinrank.Youhaveheardhintsastoherhistory?’
‘Therearemanyromanticstoriesofherorigin—notanuncommonthingwithfamousdancers.IhaveheardthatsheisthedaughterofanIrishcharwoman,alsothestorywhichmakeshermotheraRussiangrandduchess.’
‘Thefirststoryis,ofcourse,nonsense,’saidtheyoungman.‘Butthesecondistrue.Valerie,thoughboundtosecrecy,hasletmeguessasmuch.Besides,sheprovesitunconsciouslyinathousandways.Ibelieveinheredity,M.Poirot.’
‘Itoobelieveinheredity,’saidPoirotthoughtfully.‘Ihaveseensomestrangethingsinconnectionwithit—moiquivousparle…Buttobusiness,M.lePrince.Whatdoyouwantofme?Whatdoyoufear?Imayspeakfreely,mayInot?IsthereanythingtoconnectMademoiselleSaintclairwiththecrime?SheknewReedburnofcourse?’
‘Yes.Heprofessedtobeinlovewithher.’
‘Andshe?’
‘Shewouldhavenothingtosaytohim.’
Poirotlookedathimkeenly.‘Hadsheanyreasontofearhim?’
Theyoungmanhesitated.‘Therewasanincident.YouknowZara,theclairvoyant?’
‘No.’
‘Sheiswonderful.Youshouldconsulthersometime.ValerieandIwenttoseeherlastweek.Shereadthecardsforus.ShespoketoValerieoftrouble—ofgatheringclouds;thensheturnedupthelastcard—thecoveringcard,theycallit.Itwasthekingofclubs.ShesaidtoValerie:“Beware.Thereisamanwhoholdsyouinhispower.Youfearhim—youareingreatdangerthroughhim.YouknowwhomImean?”Valeriewaswhitetothelips.Shenoddedandsaid:“Yes,yes,Iknow.”Shortlyafterwardsweleft.Zara’slastwordstoValeriewere:“Bewareofthekingofclubs.Dangerthreatensyou!”IquestionedValerie.Shewouldtellmenothing—assuredmethatallwaswell.Butnow,afterlastnight,IammoresurethaneverthatinthekingofclubsValeriesawReedburn,andthathewasthemanshefeared.’
ThePrincepausedabruptly.‘NowyouunderstandmyagitationwhenIopenedthepaperthismorning.SupposingValerie,inafitofmadness—oh,itisimpossible!’
Poirotrosefromhisseat,andpattedtheyoungmankindlyontheshoulder.‘Donotdistressyourself,Ibegofyou.Leaveitinmyhands.’
‘YouwillgotoStreatham?Igathersheisstillthere,atDaisymead—prostratedbytheshock.’
‘Iwillgoatonce.’
‘Ihavearrangedmatters—throughtheembassy.Youwillbeallowedaccesseverywhere.’
‘Thenwewilldepart—Hastings,youwillaccompanyme?Aurevoir,M.lePrince.’
II
MonDésirwasanexceptionallyfinevilla,thoroughlymodernandcomfortable.Ashortcarriage-driveleduptoitfromtheroad,andbeautifulgardensextendedbehindthehouseforsomeacres.
OnmentioningPrincePaul’sname,thebutlerwhoansweredthedooratoncetookustothesceneofthetragedy.Thelibrarywasamagnificentroom,runningfrombacktofrontofthewholebuilding,withawindowateitherend,onegivingonthefrontcarriage-drive,andtheotheronthegarden.Itwasintherecessofthelatterthatthebodyhadlain.Ithadbeenremovednotlongbefore,thepolicehavingconcludedtheirexamination.
‘Thatisannoying,’ImurmuredtoPoirot.‘Whoknowswhatcluestheymayhavedestroyed?’
Mylittlefriendsmiled.‘Eh—Eh!HowoftenmustItellyouthatcluescomefromwithin?Inthelittlegreycellsofthebrainliesthesolutionofeverymystery.’
Heturnedtothebutler.‘Isuppose,exceptfortheremovalofthebody,theroomhasnotbeentouched?’
‘No,sir.It’sjustasitwaswhenthepolicecameuplastnight.’
‘Thesecurtains,now.Iseetheypullrightacrossthewindowrecess.Theyarethesameintheotherwindow.Weretheydrawnlastnight?’
‘Yes,sir,Idrawthemeverynight.’
‘ThenReedburnmusthavedrawnthembackhimself?’
‘Isupposeso,sir.’
‘Didyouknowyourmasterexpectedavisitorlastnight?’
‘Hedidnotsayso,sir.Buthegaveordershewasnottobedisturbedafterdinner.Yousee,sir,thereisadoorleadingoutofthelibraryontotheterraceatthesideofthehouse.Hecouldhaveadmittedanyonethatway.’
‘Washeinthehabitofdoingthat?’
Thebutlercougheddiscreetly.‘Ibelieveso,sir.’
Poirotstrodetothedoorinquestion.Itwasunlocked.Hesteppedthroughitontotheterracewhichjoinedthedriveontheright;ontheleftitleduptoaredbrickwall.
‘Thefruitgarden,sir.Thereisadoorleadingintoitfartheralong,butitwasalwayslockedatsixo’clock.’
Poirotnodded,andre-enteredthelibrary,thebutlerfollowing.
‘Didyouhearnothingoflastnight’sevents?’
‘Well,sir,weheardvoicesinthelibrary,alittlebeforenine.Butthatwasn’tunusual,especiallybeingalady’svoice.Butofcourse,oncewewereallintheservants’hall,righttheotherside,wedidn’thearanythingatall.Andthen,abouteleveno’clock,thepolicecame.’
‘Howmanyvoicesdidyouhear?’
‘Icouldn’tsay,sir.Ionlynoticedthelady’s.’
‘Ah!’
‘Ibegpardon,sir,butDrRyanisstillinthehouse,ifyouwouldcaretoseehim.’
Wejumpedatthesuggestion,andinafewminutesthedoctor,acheery,middle-agedman,joinedus,andgavePoirotalltheinformationherequired.Reedburnhadbeenlyingnearthewindow,hisheadbythemarblewindow-seat.Thereweretwowounds,onebetweentheeyes,andtheother,thefatalone,onthebackofthehead.
‘Hewaslyingonhisback?’
‘Yes.Thereisthemark.’Hepointedtoasmalldarkstainonthefloor.
‘Couldnottheblowonthebackoftheheadhavebeencausedbyhisstrikingthefloor?’
‘Impossible.Whatevertheweaponwas,itpenetratedsomedistanceintotheskull.’
Poirotlookedthoughtfullyinfrontofhim.Intheembrasureofeachwindowwasacarvedmarbleseat,thearmsbeingfashionedintheformofalion’shead.AlightcameintoPoirot’seyes.‘Supposinghehadfallenbackwardsonthisprojectinglion’shead,andslippedfromtheretotheground.Wouldnotthatcauseawoundsuchasyoudescribe?’
‘Yes,itwould.Buttheangleatwhichhewaslyingmakesthattheoryimpossible.Andbesidestherecouldnotfailtobetracesofbloodonthemarbleoftheseat.’
‘Unlesstheywerewashedaway?’
Thedoctorshruggedhisshoulders.‘Thatishardlylikely.Itwouldbetonoone’sadvantagetogiveanaccidenttheappearanceofmurder.’
‘Quiteso,’acquiescedPoirot.‘Couldeitheroftheblowshavebeenstruckbyawoman,doyouthink?’
‘Oh,quiteoutofthequestion,Ishouldsay.YouarethinkingofMademoiselleSaintclair,Isuppose?’
‘IthinkofnooneinparticularuntilIamsure,’saidPoirotgently.
Heturnedhisattentiontotheopenfrenchwindow,andthedoctorcontinued:
‘ItisthroughherethatMademoiselleSaintclairfled.YoucanjustcatchaglimpseofDaisymeadbetweenthetrees.Ofcourse,therearemanyhousesnearertothefrontofthehouseontheroad,butasithappens,Daisymead,thoughsomedistanceaway,istheonlyhousevisiblethisside.’
‘Thankyouforyouramiability,Doctor,’saidPoirot.‘Come,Hastings,wewillfollowthefootstepsofMademoiselle.’
III
Poirotledthewaydownthroughthegarden,outthroughanirongate,acrossashortstretchofgreenandinthroughthegardengateofDaisymead,whichwasanunpretentiouslittlehouseinabouthalfanacreofground.Therewasasmallflightofstepsleadinguptoafrenchwindow.Poirotnoddedintheirdirection.
‘ThatisthewayMademoiselleSaintclairwent.Forus,whohavenotherurgencytoplead,itwillbebettertogoroundtothefrontdoor.’
Amaidadmittedusandtookusintothedrawing-room,thenwentinsearchofMrsOglander.Theroomhadevidentlynotbeentouchedsincethenightbefore.Theasheswerestillinthegrate,andthebridge-tablewasstillinthecentreoftheroom,withadummyexposed,andthehandsthrowndown.Theplacewassomewhatoverloadedwithgimcrackornaments,andagoodmanyfamilyportraitsofsurpassinguglinessadornedthewalls.
PoirotgazedatthemmorelenientlythanIdid,andstraightenedoneortwothatwerehangingashadeaskew.‘Lafamille,itisastrongtie,isitnot?Sentiment,ittakestheplaceofbeauty.’
Iagreed,myeyesbeingfixedonafamilygroupcomprisingagentlemanwithwhiskers,aladywithahigh‘front’ofhair,asolid,thick-setboy,andtwolittlegirlstiedupwithagoodmanyunnecessarybowsofribbon.ItookthistobetheOglanderfamilyinearlierdays,andstudieditwithinterest.
Thedooropened,andayoungwomancamein.Herdarkhairwasneatlyarranged,andsheworeadrab-colouredsportscoatandatweedskirt.
Shelookedatusinquiringly.Poirotsteppedforward.‘MissOglander?Iregrettoderangeyou—especiallyafterallyouhavebeenthrough.Thewholeaffairmusthavebeenmostdisturbing.’
‘Ithasbeenratherupsetting,’admittedtheyoungladycautiously.IbegantothinkthattheelementsofdramawerewastedonMissOglander,thatherlackofimaginationrosesuperiortoanytragedy.Iwasconfirmedinthisbeliefasshecontinued:‘Imustapologizeforthestatethisroomisin.Servantsgetsofoolishlyexcited.’
‘Itwasherethatyouweresittinglastnight,n’est-cepas?’
‘Yes,wewereplayingbridgeaftersupper,when—’
‘Excuseme—howlonghadyoubeenplaying?’
‘Well—’MissOglanderconsidered.‘Ireallycan’tsay.Isupposeitmusthavebeenaboutteno’clock.Wehadhadseveralrubbers,Iknow.’
‘Andyouyourselfweresitting—where?’
‘Facingthewindow.Iwasplayingwithmymotherandhadgoneonenotrump.Suddenly,withoutanywarning,thewindowburstopen,andMissSaintclairstaggeredintotheroom.’
‘Yourecognizedher?’
‘Ihadavagueideaherfacewasfamiliar.’
‘Sheisstillhere,isshenot?’
‘Yes,butsherefusestoseeanyone.Sheisstillquiteprostrated.’
‘Ithinkshewillseeme.WillyoutellherthatIamhereattheexpressrequestofPrincePaulofMaurania?’
IfanciedthatthementionofaroyalprincerathershookMissOglander’simperturbablecalm.Butshelefttheroomonhererrandwithoutanyfurtherremark,andreturnedalmostimmediatelytosaythatMademoiselleSaintclairwouldseeusinherroom.
Wefollowedherupstairs,andintoafair-sizedlightbedroom.Onacouchbythewindowawomanwaslyingwhoturnedherheadasweentered.Thecontrastbetweenthetwowomenstruckmeatonce,themoresoasinactualfeaturesandcolouringtheywerenotunalike—butoh,thedifference!Notalook,notagestureofValerieSaintclair’sbutexpresseddrama.Sheseemedtoexhaleanatmosphereofromance.Ascarletflanneldressing-gowncoveredherfeet—ahomelygarmentinallconscience;butthecharmofherpersonalityinvesteditwithanexoticflavour,anditseemedanEasternrobeofglowingcolour.
HerlargedarkeyesfastenedthemselvesonPoirot.
‘YoucomefromPaul?’Hervoicematchedherappearance—itwasfullandlanguid.
‘Yes,mademoiselle.Iamheretoservehim—andyou.’
‘Whatdoyouwanttoknow?’
‘Everythingthathappenedlastnight.Buteverything!’
Shesmiledratherwearily.
‘DoyouthinkIshouldlie?Iamnotstupid.Iseewellenoughthattherecanbenoconcealment.Heheldasecretofmine,thatmanwhoisdead.Hethreatenedmewithit.ForPaul’ssake,Iendeavouredtomaketermswithhim.IcouldnotrisklosingPaul…Nowthatheisdead,Iamsafe.Butforallthat,Ididnotkillhim.’
Poirotshookhisheadwithasmile.‘Itisnotnecessarytotellmethat,mademoiselle.Nowrecounttomewhathappenedlastnight.’
‘Iofferedhimmoney.Heappearedtobewillingtotreatwithme.Heappointedlastnightatnineo’clock.IwastogotoMonDésir.Iknewtheplace;Ihadbeentherebefore.Iwastogoroundtothesidedoorintothelibrary,sothattheservantsshouldnotseeme.
‘Excuseme,mademoiselle,butwereyounotafraidtotrustyourselfalonethereatnight?’
Wasitmyfancy,orwasthereamomentarypausebeforesheanswered?
‘PerhapsIwas.Butyousee,therewasnooneIcouldasktogowithme.AndIwasdesperate.Reedburnadmittedmetothelibrary.Oh,thatman!Iamgladheisdead!Heplayedwithme,asacatdoeswithamouse.Hetauntedme.Ibeggedandimploredhimonmyknees.IofferedhimeveryjewelIhave.Allinvain!Thenhenamedhisownterms.Perhapsyoucanguesswhattheywere.Irefused.ItoldhimwhatIthoughtofhim.Iravedathim.Heremainedcalmlysmiling.Andthen,asIfelltosilenceatlast,therewasasound—frombehindthecurtaininthewindow…Heheardittoo.Hestrodetothecurtainsandflungthemwideapart.Therewasamanthere,hiding—adreadful-lookingman,asortoftramp.HestruckatMrReedburn—thenhestruckagain,andhewentdown.Thetrampclutchedatmewithhisbloodstainedhand.Itoremyselffree,slippedthroughthewindow,andranformylife.ThenIperceivedthelightsinthishouse,andmadeforthem.Theblindswereup,andIsawsomepeopleplayingbridge.Ialmostfellintotheroom
‘Thankyou,Mademoiselle.Itmusthavebeenagreatshocktoyournervoussystem.Astothistramp,couldyoudescribehim?Doyourememberwhathewaswearing?’
‘No—itwasallsoquick.ButIshouldknowthemananywhere.Hisfaceisburntinonmybrain.’
‘Justonemorequestion,mademoiselle.Thecurtainsoftheotherwindow,theonegivingonthedrive,weretheydrawn?’
Forthefirsttimeapuzzledexpressioncreptoverthedancer’sface.Sheseemedtobetryingtoremember.
‘Ehbien,mademoiselle?’
‘Ithink—Iamalmostsure—yes,quitesure!Theywerenotdrawn.’
‘Thatiscurious,sincetheotheroneswere.Nomatter.Itis,Idaresay,ofnogreatimportance.Youareremainingherelong,mademoiselle?’
‘ThedoctorthinksIshallbefittoreturntotowntomorrow.’Shelookedroundtheroom.MissOglanderhadgoneout.‘Thesepeople,theyareverykind—buttheyarenotofmyworld.Ishockthem!Andtome—well,Iamnotfondofthebourgeoisie!’
Afaintnoteofbitternessunderlayherwords.
Poirotnodded.‘Iunderstand.IhopeIhavenotfatiguedyouundulywithmyquestions?’
‘Notatall,monsieur.IamonlytooanxiousPaulshouldknowallassoonaspossible.’
‘ThenIwillwishyougoodday,mademoiselle.’
AsPoirotwasleavingtheroom,hepaused,andpouncedonapairofpatent-leatherslippers.‘Yours,mademoiselle?’
‘Yes,monsieur.Theyhavejustbeencleanedandbroughtup.’
‘Ah!’saidPoirot,aswedescendedthestairs.‘Itseemsthatthedomesticsarenottooexcitedtocleanshoes,thoughtheyforgetagrate.Well,monami,atfirstthereappearedtobeoneortwopointsofinterest,butIfear,Iverymuchfear,thatwemustregardthecaseasfinished.Itallseemsstraightforwardenough.’
‘Andthemurderer?’
‘HerculePoirotdoesnothuntdowntramps,’repliedmyfriendgrandiloquently.
IV
MissOglandermetusinthehall.‘Ifyouwillwaitinthedrawing-roomaminute,Mammawouldliketospeaktoyou.’
Theroomwasstilluntouched,andPoirotidlygatheredupthecards,shufflingthemwithhistiny,fastidiouslygroomedhands.
‘DoyouknowwhatIthink,myfriend?’
‘No?’Isaideagerly.
‘IthinkthatMissOglandermadeamistakeingoingonenotrump.Sheshouldhavegonethreespades.’
‘Poirot!Youarethelimit.’
‘MonDieu,Icannotalwaysbetalkingbloodandthunder!’
Suddenlyhestiffened:‘Hastings—Hastings.See!Thekingofclubsismissingfromthepack!’
‘Zara!’Icried.
‘Eh?’hedidnotseemtounderstandmyallusion.Mechanicallyhestackedthecardsandputthemawayintheircases.Hisfacewasverygrave.
‘Hastings,’hesaidatlast,‘I,HerculePoirot,havecomeneartomakingabigmistake—averybigmistake.’
Igazedathim,impressed,bututterlyuncomprehending.
‘Wemustbeginagain,Hastings.Yes,wemustbeginagain.Butthistimeweshallnoterr.’
Hewasinterruptedbytheentranceofahandsomemiddle-agedlady.Shecarriedsomehouseholdbooksinherhand.Poirotbowedtoher.
‘DoIunderstand,sir,thatyouareafriendof—er—MissSaintclair’s?’
‘Icomefromafriendofhers,madame.’
‘Oh,Isee.Ithoughtperhaps—’
Poirotsuddenlywavedbrusquelyatthewindow.
‘Yourblindswerenotpulleddownlastnight?’
‘No—IsupposethatiswhyMissSaintclairsawthelightsoplainly.’
‘Therewasmoonlightlastnight.IwonderthatyoudidnotseeMademoiselleSaintclairfromyourseatherefacingthewindows?’
‘Isupposewewereengrossedwithourgame.Nothinglikethishaseverhappenedbeforetous.’
‘Icanquitebelievethat,madame.AndIwillputyourmindatrest.MademoiselleSaintclairisleavingtomorrow.’
‘Oh!’Thegoodlady’sfacecleared.
‘AndIwillwishyougoodmorning,madame.’
Aservantwascleaningthestepsaswewentoutofthefrontdoor.Poirotaddressedher.
‘Wasityouwhocleanedtheshoesoftheyoungladyupstairs?’
Themaidshookherhead.‘No,sir.Idon’tthinkthey’vebeencleaned.’
‘Whocleanedthem,then?’IinquiredofPoirot,aswewalkeddowntheroad.
‘Nobody.Theydidnotneedcleaning.’
‘Igrantthatwalkingontheroadorpathonafinenightwouldnotsoilthem.Butsurelyaftergoingthroughthelonggrassofthegarden,theywouldhavebeensoiledandstained.’
‘Yes,’saidPoirotwithacurioussmile.‘Inthatcase,Iagree,theywouldhavebeenstained.’
‘But—’
‘Havepatiencealittlehalf-hour,myfriend.WearegoingbacktoMonDésir.’
V
Thebutlerlookedsurprisedatourreappearance,butofferednoobjectiontoourreturningtothelibrary.
‘Hi,that’sthewrongwindow,Poirot,’Icriedashemadefortheoneoverlookingthecarriage-drive.
‘Ithinknot,myfriend.Seehere.’Hepointedtothemarblelion’shead.Onitwasafaintdiscolouredsmear.Heshiftedhisfingerandpointedtoasimilarstainonthepolishedfloor.
‘SomeonestruckReedburnablowwithhisclenchedfistbetwentheeyes.Hefellbackwardonthisprojectingbitofmarble,thenslippedtothefloor.Afterwards,hewasdraggedacrossthefloortotheotherwindow,andlaidthereinstead,butnotquiteatthesameangle,astheDoctor’sevidencetoldus.’
‘Butwhy?Itseemsutterlyunnecessary.’
‘Onthecontrary,itwasessential.Also,itisthekeytothemurderer’sidentity—though,bytheway,hehadnointentionofkillingReedburn,andsoitishardlypermissibletocallhimamurderer.Hemustbeaverystrongman!’
‘Becauseofhavingdraggedthebodyacrossthefloor?’
‘Notaltogether.Ithasbeenaninterestingcase.Inearlymadeanimbecileofmyself,though.’
‘Doyoumeantosayitisover,thatyouknoweverything?’
‘Yes.’
Aremembrancesmoteme.‘No,’Icried.‘Thereisonethingyoudonotknow!’
‘Andthat?’
‘Youdonotknowwherethemissingkingofclubsis!’
‘Eh?Oh,thatisdroll!Thatisverydroll,myfriend.’
‘Why?’
‘Becauseitisinmypocket!’Hedrewitforthwithaflourish.
‘Oh!’Isaid,rathercrestfallen.‘Wheredidyoufindit?Here?’
‘Therewasnothingsensationalaboutit.Ithadsimplynotbeentakenoutwiththeothercards.Itwasinthebox.’
‘H’m!Allthesame,itgaveyouanidea,didn’tit?’
‘Yes,myfriend.IpresentmyrespectstoHisMajesty.’
‘AndtoMadameZara!’
‘Ah,yes—totheladyalso.’
‘Well,whatarewegoingtodonow?’
‘Wearegoingtoreturntotown.ButImusthaveafewwordswithacertainladyatDaisymeadfirst.’
Thesamelittlemaidopenedthedoortous.
‘They’reallatlunchnow,sir—unlessit’sMissSaintclairyouwanttosee,andshe’sresting.’
‘ItwilldoifIcanseeMrsOglanderforafewminutes.Willyoutellher?’
Wewereledintothedrawing-roomtowait.Ihadaglimpseofthefamilyinthedining-roomaswepassed,nowreinforcedbythepresenceoftwoheavy,solid-lookingmen,onewithamoustache,theotherwithabeardalso.
InafewminutesMrsOglandercameintotheroom,lookinginquiringlyatPoirot,whobowed.
‘Madame,we,inourcountry,haveagreattenderness,agreatrespectforthemother.Themèredefamille,sheiseverything!’
MrsOglanderlookedratherastonishedatthisopening.
‘ItisforthatreasonthatIhavecome—toallayamother’sanxiety.ThemurdererofMrReedburnwillnotbediscovered.Havenofear.I,HerculePoirot,tellyouso.Iamright,amInot?OrisitawifethatImustreassure?’
Therewasamoment’spause.MrsOglanderseemedsearchingPoirotwithhereyes.Atlastshesaidquietly:‘Idon’tknowhowyouknow—butyes,youareright.’
Poirotnoddedgravely.‘Thatisall,madame.Butdonotbeuneasy.YourEnglishpolicemenhavenottheeyesofHerculePoirot.’Hetappedthefamilyportraitonthewallwithhisfingernail.
‘Youhadanotherdaughteronce.Sheisdead,madame?’
Againtherewasapause,asshesearchedhimwithhereyes.Thensheanswered:‘Yes,sheisdead.’
‘Ah!’saidPoirotbriskly.‘Well,wemustreturntotown.YoupermitthatIreturnthekingofclubstothepack?Itwasyouronlyslip.Youunderstand,tohaveplayedbridgeforanhourorso,withonlyfifty-onecards—well,noonewhoknowsanythingofthegamewouldcredititforaminute!Bonjour!’
‘Andnow,myfriend,’saidPoirotaswesteppedtowardsthestation,‘youseeitall!’
‘Iseenothing!WhokilledReedburn?’
‘JohnOglander,Junior.Iwasnotquitesureifitwasthefatherortheson,butIfixedonthesonasbeingthestrongerandyoungerofthetwo.Ithadtobeoneofthem,becauseofthewindow.’
‘Why?’
‘Therewerefourexitsfromthelibrary—twodoors,twowindows;butevidentlyonlyonewoulddo.Threeexitsgaveonthefront,directlyorindirectly.ThetragedyhadtooccurinthebackwindowinordertomakeitappearthatValerieSaintclaircametoDaisymeadbychance.Really,ofcourse,shefainted,andJohnOglandercarriedheracrossoverhisshoulders.ThatiswhyIsaidhemustbeastrongman.’
‘Didtheygotheretogether,then?’
‘Yes.YourememberValerie’shesitationwhenIaskedherifshewasnotafraidtogoalone?JohnOglanderwentwithher—whichdidn’timproveReedburn’stemper,Ifancy.Theyquarrelled,anditwasprobablysomeinsultlevelledatValeriethatmadeOglanderhithim.Therest,youknow.’
‘Butwhythebridge?’
‘Bridgepresupposesfourplayers.Asimplethinglikethatcarriesalotofconviction.Whowouldhavesupposedthattherehadbeenonlythreepeopleinthatroomalltheevening?’
Iwasstillpuzzled.
‘There’sonethingIdon’tunderstand.WhathavetheOglanderstodowiththedancerValerieSaintclair?’
‘Ah,thatIwonderyoudidnotsee.Andyetyoulookedlongenoughatthatpictureonthewall—longerthanIdid.MrsOglander’sotherdaughtermaybedeadtoherfamily,buttheworldknowsherasValerieSaintclair!’
‘What?’
‘Didyounotseetheresemblancethemomentyousawthetwosisterstogether?’
‘No,’Iconfessed.‘Ionlythoughthowextraordinarilydissimilartheywere.’
‘Thatisbecauseyourmindissoopentoexternalromanticimpressions,mydearHastings.Thefeaturesarealmostidentical.Soisthecolouring.TheinterestingthingisthatValerieisashamedofherfamily,andherfamilyisashamedofher.Nevertheless,inamomentofperil,sheturnedtoherbrotherforhelp,andwhenthingswentwrong,theyallhungtogetherinaremarkableway.Familystrengthisamarvellousthing.Theycanallact,thatfamily.ThatiswhereValeriegetsherhistrionictalentfrom.I,likePrincePaul,believeinheredity!Theydeceivedme!Butforaluckyaccident,andtestquestiontoMrsOglanderbywhichIgothertocontradictherdaughter’saccountofhowtheyweresitting,theOglanderfamilywouldhaveputadefeatonHerculePoirot.’
‘WhatshallyoutellthePrince?’
‘ThatValeriecouldnotpossiblyhavecommittedthecrime,andthatIdoubtifthattrampwilleverbefound.Also,toconveymycomplimentstoZara.Acuriouscoincidence,that!IthinkIshallcallthislittleaffairtheAdventureoftheKingofClubs.Whatdoyouthink,myfriend?’
TheLemesurierInheritance
I
IncompanywithPoirot,Ihaveinvestigatedmanystrangecases,butnone,Ithink,tocomparewiththatextraordinaryseriesofeventswhichheldourinterestoveraperiodofmanyyears,andwhichculminatedintheultimateproblembroughttoPoirottosolve.OurattentionwasfirstdrawntothefamilyhistoryoftheLemesuriersoneeveningduringthewar.PoirotandIhadbutrecentlycometogetheragain,renewingtheolddaysofouracquaintanceshipinBelgium.HehadbeenhandlingsomelittlematterfortheWarOffice—disposingofittotheirentiresatisfaction;andwehadbeendiningattheCarltonwithaBrassHatwhopaidPoirotheavycomplimentsintheintervalsofthemeal.TheBrassHathadtorushawaytokeepanappointmentwithsomeone,andwefinishedourcoffeeinaleisurelyfashionbeforefollowinghisexample.
Aswewereleavingtheroom,Iwashailedbyavoicewhichstruckafamiliarnote,andturnedtoseeCaptainVincentLemesurier,ayoungfellowwhomIhadknowninFrance.Hewaswithanoldermanwhoselikenesstohimproclaimedhimtobeofthesamefamily.Suchprovedtobethecase,andhewasintroducedtousasMrHugoLemesurier,uncleofmyyoungfriend.
IdidnotreallyknowCaptainLemesurieratallintimately,buthewasapleasantyoungfellow,somewhatdreamyinmanner,andIrememberedhearingthathebelongedtoanoldandexclusivefamilywithapropertyinNorthumberlandwhichdatedfrombeforetheReformation.PoirotandIwerenotinahurry,andattheyoungerman’sinvitation,wesatdownatthetablewithouttwonew-foundfriends,andchatteredpleasantlyenoughonvariousmatters.TheelderLemesurierwasamanofaboutforty,withatouchofthescholarinhisstoopingshoulders;hewasengagedatthemomentuponsomechemicalresearchworkfortheGovernment,itappeared.
Ourconversationwasinterruptedbyatalldarkyoungmanwhostrodeuptothetable,evidentlylabouringundersomeagitationofmind.
‘ThankgoodnessI’vefoundyouboth!’heexclaimed.
‘What’sthematter,Roger?’
‘Yourguv’nor,Vincent.Badfall.Younghorse.’Theresttrailedoff,ashedrewtheotheraside.
Inafewminutesourtwofriendshadhurriedlytakenleaveofus.VincentLemesurier’sfatherhadhadaseriousaccidentwhiletryingayounghorse,andwasnotexpectedtoliveuntilmorning.Vincenthadgonedeadlywhite,andappearedalmoststunnedbythenews.Inaway,Iwassurprised—forfromthefewwordshehadletfallonthesubjectwhileinFrance,Ihadgatheredthatheandhisfatherwerenotonparticularlyfriendlyterms,andsohisdisplayoffilialfeelingnowratherastonishedme.
Thedarkyoungman,whohadbeenintroducedtousasacousin,MrRogerLemesurier,remainedbehind,andwethreestrolledouttogether.
‘Ratheracuriousbusiness,this,’observedtheyoungman.‘ItwouldinterestM.Poirot,perhaps.I’veheardofyou,youknow,M.Poirot—fromHigginson.’(HigginsonwasourBrassHatfriend.)‘Hesaysyou’reawhaleonpsychology.’
‘Istudythepsychology,yes,’admittedmyfriendcautiously.
‘Didyouseemycousin’sface?Hewasabsolutelybowledover,wasn’the?Doyouknowwhy?Agoodold-fashionedfamilycurse!Wouldyoucaretohearaboutit?’
‘Itwouldbemostkindofyoutorecountittome.’
RogerLemesurierlookedathiswatch.
‘Lotsoftime.I’mmeetingthematKing’sCross.Well,M.Poirot,theLemesuriersareanoldfamily.Waybackinmedievaltimes,aLemesurierbecamesuspiciousofhiswife.Hefoundtheladyinacompromisingsituation.Shesworethatshewasinnocent,butoldBaronHugodidn’tlisten.Shehadonechild,ason—andhesworethattheboywasnochildofhisandshouldneverinherit.Iforgetwhathedid—somepleasingmedievalfancylikewallingupthemotherandsonalive;anyway,hekilledthemboth,andshediedprotestingherinnocenceandsolemnlycursingtheLemesuriersforever.Nofirst-bornsonofaLemesuriershouldeverinherit—sothecurseran.Well,timepassed,andthelady’sinnocencewasestablishedbeyonddoubt.IbelievethatHugoworeahairshirtandendeduphisdaysonhiskneesinamonk’scell.Butthecuriousthingisthatfromthatdaytothis,nofirst-bornsoneverhassucceededtotheestate.It’sgonetobrothers,tonephews,tosecondsons—nevertotheeldestson.Vincent’sfatherwasthesecondoffivesons,theeldestofwhomdiedininfancy.Ofcourse,allthroughthewar,Vincenthasbeenconvincedthatwhoeverelsewasdoomed,hecertainlywas.Butstrangelyenough,histwoyoungerbrothershavebeenkilled,andhehimselfhasremainedunscathed.’
‘Aninterestingfamilyhistory,’saidPoirotthoughtfully.‘Butnowhisfatherisdying,andhe,astheeldestson,succeeds?’
‘Exactly.Acursehasgonerusty—unabletostandthestrainofmodernlife.’
Poirotshookhishead,asthoughdeprecatingtheother’sjestingtone.RogerLemesurierlookedathiswatchagain,anddeclaredthathemustbeoff.
Thesequeltothestorycameonthemorrow,whenwelearnedofthetragicdeathofCaptainVincentLemesurier.HehadbeentravellingnorthbytheScotchmail-train,andduringthenightmusthaveopenedthedoorofthecompartmentandjumpedoutontheline.Theshockofhisfather’saccidentcomingontopoftheshell-shockwasdeemedtohavecausedtemporarymentalaberration.ThecurioussuperstitionprevalentintheLemesurierfamilywasmentioned,inconnectionwiththenewheir,hisfather’sbrother,RonaldLemesurier,whoseonlysonhaddiedontheSomme.
IsupposeouraccidentalmeetingwithyoungVincentonthelasteveningofhislifequickenedourinterestinanythingthatpertainedtotheLemesurierfamily,forwenotedwithsomeinteresttwoyearslaterthedeathofRonaldLemesurier,whohadbeenaconfirmedinvalidatthetimeofhissuccessiontothefamilyestates.HisbrotherJohnsucceededhim,ahale,heartymanwithaboyatEton.
CertainlyanevildestinyovershadowedtheLemesuriers.Onhisverynextholidaytheboymanagedtoshoothimselffatally.Hisfather’sdeath,whichoccurredquitesuddenlyafterbeingstungbyawasp,gavetheestateovertotheyoungestbrotherofthefive—Hugo,whomwerememberedmeetingonthefatalnightattheCarlton.
BeyondcommentingontheextraordinaryseriesofmisfortuneswhichbefelltheLemesuriers,wehadtakennopersonalinterestinthematter,butthetimewasnowcloseathandwhenweweretotakeamoreactivepart.
II
Onemorning‘MrsLemesurier’wasannounced.Shewasatall,activewoman,possiblyaboutthirtyyearsofage,whoconveyedbyherdemeanouragreatdealofdeterminationandstrongcommonsense.Shespokewithafainttransatlanticaccent.
‘M.Poirot?Iampleasedtomeetyou.Myhusband,HugoLemesurier,metyouoncemanyyearsago,butyouwillhardlyrememberthefact.’
‘Irecollectitperfectly,madame.ItwasattheCarlton.’
‘That’squitewonderfulofyou.M.Poirot,I’mveryworried.’
‘Whatabout,Madame?’
‘Myelderboy—I’vetwoboys,youknow.Ronald’seight,andGerald’ssix.’
‘Proceed,madame:whyshouldyoubeworriedaboutlittleRonald?’
‘M.Poirot,withinthelastsixmonthshehashadthreenarrowescapesfromdeath:oncefromdrowning—whenwewerealldownatCornwallthissummer;oncewhenhefellfromthenurserywindow;andoncefromptomainepoisoning.’
PerhapsPoirot’sfaceexpressedrathertooeloquentlywhathethought,forMrsLemesurierhurriedonwithhardlyamoment’spause:‘OfcourseIknowyouthinkI’mjustasillyfoolofawoman,makingmountainsoutofmolehills.’
‘No,indeed,madame.Anymothermightbeexcusedforbeingupsetatsuchoccurrences,butIhardlyseewhereIcanbeofanyassistancetoyou.IamnotlebonDieutocontrolthewaves;forthenurserywindowIshouldsuggestsomeironbars;andforthefood—whatcanequalamother’scare?’
‘ButwhyshouldthesethingshappentoRonaldandnottoGerald?’
‘Thechance,madame—lehasard!’
‘Youthinkso?’
‘Whatdoyouthink,madame—youandyourhusband?’
AshadowcrossedMrsLemesurier’sface
‘It’snogoodgoingtoHugo—hewon’tlisten.Asperhapsyoumayhaveheard,there’ssupposedtobeacurseonthefamily—noeldestsoncansucceed.Hugobelievesinit.He’swrappedupinthefamilyhistory,andhe’ssuperstitioustothelastdegree.WhenIgotohimwithmyfears,hejustsaysit’sthecurse,andwecan’tescapeit.ButI’mfromtheStates,M.Poirot,andovertherewedon’tbelievemuchincurses.Welikethemasbelongingtoarealhigh-tonedoldfamily—itgivesasortofcachet,don’tyouknow.IwasjustamusicalcomedyactressinasmallpartwhenHugometme—andIthoughthisfamilycursewasjusttoolovelyforwords.Thatkindofthing’sallrightfortellingroundthefireonawinter’sevening,butwhenitcomestoone’sownchildren—Ijustadoremychildren,M.Poirot.I’ddoanythingforthem.’
‘Soyoudeclinetobelieveinthefamilylegend,madame?’
‘Canalegendsawthroughanivystem?’
‘Whatisthatyouaresaying,madame?’criedPoirot,anexpressionofgreatastonishmentonhisface.
‘Isaid,canalegend—oraghost,ifyouliketocallitthat—sawthroughanivystem?I’mnotsayinganythingaboutCornwall.Anyboymightgoouttoofarandgetintodifficulties—thoughRonaldcouldswimwhenhewasfouryearsold.Buttheivy’sdifferent.Boththeboyswereverynaughty.They’ddiscoveredtheycouldclimbupanddownbytheivy.Theywerealwaysdoingit.Oneday—Geraldwasawayatthetime—Ronalddiditoncetoooften,andtheivygavewayandhefell.Fortunatelyhedidn’tdamagehimselfseriously.ButIwentoutandexaminedtheivy:itwascutthrough,M.Poirot—deliberatelycutthrough.’
‘Itisveryseriouswhatyouaretellingmethere,madame.Yousayyouryoungerboywasawayfromhomeatthemoment?’
‘Yes.’
‘Andatthetimeoftheptomainepoisoning,washestillaway?’
‘No,theywereboththere.’
‘Curious,’murmuredPoirot.‘Now,madame,whoaretheinmatesofyourestablishment?’
‘MissSaunders,thechildren’sgoverness,andJohnGardiner,myhusband’ssecretary—’
MrsLemesurierpaused,asthoughslightlyembarrassed.
‘Andwhoelse,madame?’
‘MajorRogerLemesurier,whomyoualsometonthatnight,Ibelieve,stayswithusagooddeal.’
‘Ah,yes—heisacousinishenot?’
‘Adistantcousin.Hedoesnotbelongtoourbranchofthefamily.Still,Isupposenowheismyhusband’snearestrelative.Heisadearfellow,andweareallveryfondofhim.Theboysaredevotedtohim.’
‘Itwasnothewhotaughtthemtoclimbuptheivy?’
‘Itmighthavebeen.Heincitesthemtomischiefoftenenough.’
‘Madame,IapologizeforwhatIsaidtoyouearlier.Thedangerisreal,andIbelievethatIcanbeofassistance.Iproposethatyoushouldinviteusbothtostaywithyou.Yourhusbandwillnotobject?’
‘Ohno.Buthewillbelieveittobeallofnouse.Itmakesmefuriousthewayhejustsitsaroundandexpectstheboytodie.’
‘Calmyourself,madame.Letusmakeourarrangementsmethodically.’
III
Ourarrangementsweredulymade,andthefollowingdaysawusflyingnorthward.Poirotwassunkinareverie.Hecameoutofit,toremarkabruptly:‘ItwasfromatrainsuchasthisthatVincentLemesurierfell?’
Heputaslightaccentonthe‘fell’.
‘Youdon’tsuspectfoulplaythere,surely?’Iasked.
‘Hasitstruckyou,Hastings,thatsomeoftheLemesurierdeathswere,shallwesay,capableofbeingarranged?TakethatofVincent,forinstance.ThentheEtonboy—anaccidentwithagunisalwaysambiguous.Supposingthischildhadfallenfromthenurserywindowandbeendashedtodeath—whatmorenaturalandunsuspicious?Butwhyonlytheonechild,Hastings?Whoprofitsbythedeathoftheelderchild?Hisyoungerbrother,achildofseven!Absurd!’
‘Theymeantodoawaywiththeotherlater,’Isuggested,thoughwiththevaguestideasastowho‘they’were.
Poirotshookhisheadasthoughdissatisfied.
‘Ptomainepoisoning,’hemused.‘Atropinewillproducemuchthesamesymptoms.Yes,thereisneedforourpresence.’
MrsLemesurierwelcomedusenthusiastically.Thenshetookustoherhusband’sstudyandleftuswithhim.HehadchangedagooddealsinceIsawhimlast.Hisshouldersstoopedmorethanever,andhisfacehadacuriouspalegreytinge.HelistenedwhilePoirotexplainedourpresenceinthehouse.
‘HowexactlylikeSadie’spracticalcommonsense!’hesaidatlast.‘Remainbyallmeans,M.Poirot,andIthankyouforcoming;but—whatiswritten,iswritten.Thewayofthetransgressorishard.WeLemesuriersknow—noneofuscanescapethedoom.’
Poirotmentionedthesawn-throughivy,butHugoseemedverylittleimpressed.
‘Doubtlesssomecarelessgardener—yes,yes,theremaybeaninstrument,butthepurposebehindisplain;andIwilltellyouthis,M.Poirot,itcannotbelongdelayed.’
Poirotlookedathimattentively.
‘Whydoyousaythat?’
‘BecauseImyselfamdoomed.Iwenttoadoctorlastyear.Iamsufferingfromanincurabledisease—theendcannotbemuchlongerdelayed;butbeforeIdie,Ronaldwillbetaken.Geraldwillinherit.’
‘Andifanythingweretohappentoyoursecondsonalso?’
‘Nothingwillhappentohim;heisnotthreatened.’
‘Butifitdid?’persistedPoirot.
‘MycousinRogeristhenextheir.’
Wewereinterrupted.Atallmanwithagoodfigureandcrispycurlingauburnhairenteredwithasheafofpapers.
‘Nevermindaboutthosenow,Gardiner,’saidHugoLemesurier,thenheadded:‘Mysecretary,MrGardiner.’
Thesecretarybowed,utteredafewpleasantwordsandthenwentout.Inspiteofhisgoodlooks,therewassomethingrepellentabouttheman.IsaidsotoPoirotshortlyafterwardwhenwewerewalkingroundthebeautifuloldgroundstogether,andrathertomysurprise,heagreed.
‘Yes,yes,Hastings,youareright.Idonotlikehim.Heistoogood-looking.Hewouldbeoneforthesoftjobalways.Ah,herearethechildren.’
MrsLemesurierwasadvancingtowardsus,hertwochildrenbesideher.Theywerefine-lookingboys,theyoungerdarklikehismother,theelderwithauburncurls.Theyshookhandsprettilyenough,andweresoonabsolutelydevotedtoPoirot.WewerenextintroducedtoMissSaunders,anondescriptfemale,whocompletedtheparty.
IV
Forsomedayswehadapleasant,easyexistence—evervigilant,butwithoutresult.Theboysledahappynormallifeandnothingseemedtobeamiss.OnthefourthdayafterourarrivalMajorRogerLemesuriercamedowntostay.Hewaslittlechanged,stillcare-freeanddebonairasofold,withthesamehabitoftreatingallthingslightly.Hewasevidentlyagreatfavouritewiththeboys,whogreetedhisarrivalwithshrieksofdelightandimmediatelydraggedhimofftoplaywildIndiansinthegarden.InoticedthatPoirotfollowedthemunobtrusively.
V
Onthefollowingdaywewereallinvitedtotea,boysincluded,withLadyClaygate,whoseplaceadjoinedthatoftheLemesuriers.MrsLemesuriersuggestedthatwealsoshouldcome,butseemedratherrelievedwhenPoirotrefusedanddeclaredhewouldmuchprefertoremainathome.
Onceeveryonehadstarted,Poirotgottowork.Heremindedmeofanintelligentterrier.Ibelievethattherewasnocornerofthehousethatheleftunsearched;yetitwasalldonesoquietlyandmethodicallythatnoattentionwasdirectedtohismovements.Clearly,attheend,heremainedunsatisfied.WehadteaontheterracewithMissSaunders,whohadnotbeenincludedintheparty
‘Theboyswillenjoyit,’shemurmuredinherfadedway,‘thoughIhopetheywillbehavenicely,andnotdamagetheflower-beds,orgonearthebees—’
Poirotpausedintheveryactofdrinking.Helookedlikeamanwhohasseenaghost.
‘Bees?’hedemandedinavoiceofthunder.
‘Yes,M.Poirot,bees.Threehives.LadyClaygateisveryproudofherbees—’
‘Bees?’criedPoirotagain.Thenhesprangfromthetableandwalkedupanddowntheterracewithhishandstohishead.Icouldnotimaginewhythelittlemanshouldbesoagitatedatthemerementionofbees.
Atthatmomentweheardthecarreturning.Poirotwasonthedoorstepasthepartyalighted.
‘Ronald’sbeenstung,’criedGeraldexcitedly.
‘It’snothing,’saidMrsLemesurier.‘Ithasn’tevenswollen.Weputammoniaonit.’
‘Letmesee,mylittleman,’saidPoirot.‘Wherewasit?’
‘Here,onthesideofmyneck,’saidRonaldimportantly.‘Butitdoesn’thurt.Fathersaid:“Keepstill—there’sabeeonyou.”AndIkeptstill,andhetookitoff,butitstungmefirst,thoughitdidn’treallyhurt,onlylikeapin,andIdidn’tcry,becauseI’msobigandgoingtoschoolnextyear.’
Poirotexaminedthechild’sneck,thendrewawayagain.Hetookmebythearmandmurmured:
‘Tonight,monami,tonightwehavealittleaffairon!Saynothing—toanyone.’
Herefusedtobemorecommunicative,andIwentthroughtheeveningdevouredbycuriosity.HeretiredearlyandIfollowedhisexample.Aswewentupstairs,hecaughtmebythearmanddeliveredhisinstructions:
‘Donotundress.Waitasufficienttime,extinguishyourlightandjoinmehere.’
Iobeyed,andfoundhimwaitingformewhenthetimecame.Heenjoinedsilenceonmewithagesture,andwecreptquietlyalongthenurserywing.Ronaldoccupiedasmallroomofhisown.Weentereditandtookupourpositioninthedarkestcorner.Thechild’sbreathingsoundedheavyandundisturbed.
‘Surelyheissleepingveryheavily?’Iwhispered.
Poirotnodded.
‘Drugged,’hemurmured.
‘Why?’
‘Sothatheshouldnotcryoutat—’
‘Atwhat?’Iasked,asPoirotpaused.
‘Attheprickofthehypodermicneedle,monami!Hush,letusspeaknomore—notthatIexpectanythingtohappenforsometime.’
VI
ButinthisPoirotwaswrong.Hardlytenminuteshadelapsedbeforethedooropenedsoftly,andsomeoneenteredtheroom.Iheardasoundofquickhurriedbreathing.Footstepsmovedtothebed,andthentherewasasuddenclick.Thelightofalittleelectriclanternfellonthesleepingchild—theholderofitwasstillinvisibleintheshadow.Thefigurelaiddownthelantern.Withtherighthanditbroughtforthasyringe;withtheleftittouchedtheboy’sneck—
PoirotandIsprangatthesameminute.Thelanternrolledtothefloor,andwestruggledwiththeintruderinthedark.Hisstrengthwasextraordinary.Atlastweovercamehim.
‘Thelight,Hastings,Imustseehisface—thoughIfearIknowonlytoowellwhosefaceitwillbe.’
SodidI,IthoughtasIgropedforthelantern.ForamomentIhadsuspectedthesecretary,eggedonbymysecretdislikeoftheman,butIfeltassuredbynowthatthemanwhostoodtogainbythedeathofhistwochildishcousinswasthemonsterweweretracking.
Myfootstruckagainstthelantern.Ipickeditupandswitchedonthelight.Itshonefullonthefaceof—HugoLemesurier,theboy’sfather!
Thelanternalmostdroppedfrommyhand
‘Impossible,’Imurmuredhoarsely.‘Impossible!’
VII
Lemesurierwasunconscious.PoirotandIbetweenuscarriedhimtohisroomandlaidhimonthebed.Poirotbentandgentlyextricatedsomethingfromhisrighthand.Heshowedittome.Itwasahypodermicsyringe.Ishuddered.
‘Whatisinit?Poison?’
‘Formicacid,Ifancy.’
‘Formicacid?’
‘Yes.Probablyobtainedbydistillingants.Hewasachemist,youremember.Deathwouldhavebeenattributedtothebeesting.’
‘MyGod,’Imuttered.‘Hisownson!Andyouexpectedthis?’
Poirotnoddedgravely.
‘Yes.Heisinsane,ofcourse.Iimaginethatthefamilyhistoryhasbecomeamaniawithhim.Hisintenselongingtosucceedtotheestateledhimtocommitthelongseriesofcrimes.PossiblytheideaoccurredtohimfirstwhentravellingnorththatnightwithVincent.Hecouldn’tbearthepredictiontobefalsified.Ronald’ssonwasalreadydead,andRonaldhimselfwasadyingman—theyareaweaklylot.Hearrangedtheaccidenttothegun,and—whichIdidnotsuspectuntilnow—contrivedthedeathofhisbrotherJohnbythissamemethodofinjectingformicacidintothejugularvein.Hisambitionwasrealizedthen,andhebecamethemasterofthefamilyacres.Buthistriumphwasshort-lived—hefoundthathewassufferingfromanincurabledisease.Andhehadthemadman’sfixedidea—theeldestsonofaLemesuriercouldnotinherit.Isuspectthatthebathingaccidentwasduetohim—heencouragedthechildtogoouttoofar.Thatfailing,hesawedthroughtheivy,andafterwardspoisonedthechild’sfood.’
‘Diabolical!’Imurmuredwithashiver.‘Andsocleverlyplanned!’
‘Yes,monami,thereisnothingmoreamazingthantheextraordinarysanityoftheinsane!Unlessitistheextraordinaryeccentricityofthesane!Iimaginethatitisonlylatelythathehascompletelygoneovertheborderline,therewasmethodinhismadnesstobeginwith.’
‘AndtothinkthatIsuspectedRoger—thatsplendidfellow.’
‘Itwasthenaturalassumption,monami.WeknewthathealsotravellednorthwithVincentthatnight.Weknew,too,thathewasthenextheirafterHugoandHugo’schildren.Butourassumptionwasnotborneoutbythefacts.TheivywassawnthroughwhenonlylittleRonaldwasathome—butitwouldbetoRoger’sinterestthatbothchildrenshouldperish.Inthesameway,itwasonlyRonald’sfoodthatwaspoisoned.AndtodaywhentheycamehomeandIfoundthattherewasonlyhisfather’swordforitthatRonaldhadbeenstung,Irememberedtheotherdeathfromawaspsting—andIknew!’
VIII
HugoLemesurierdiedafewmonthslaterintheprivateasylumtowhichhewasremoved.HiswidowwasremarriedayearlatertoMrJohnGardiner,theauburn-hairedsecretary.Ronaldinheritedthebroadacresofhisfather,andcontinuestoflourish.
‘Well,well,’IremarkedtoPoirot.‘Anotherillusiongone.YouhavedisposedverysuccessfullyofthecurseoftheLemesuriers.’
‘Iwonder,’saidPoirotverythoughtfully.‘Iwonderverymuchindeed.’
‘Whatdoyoumean?’
‘Monami,Iwillansweryouwithonesignificantword—red!’
‘Blood?’Iqueried,droppingmyvoicetoanawe-strickenwhisper.
‘Alwaysyouhavetheimaginationmelodramatic,Hastings!Irefertosomethingmuchmoreprosaic—thecolouroflittleRonaldLemesurier’shair.’
TheLostMine
Ilaiddownmybankbookwithasigh.
‘Itisacuriousthing,’Iobserved,‘butmyoverdraftneverseemstogrowanyless.’
‘Anditperturbsyounot?Me,ifIhadanoverdraft,nevershouldIclosemyeyesallnight,’declaredPoirot.
‘Youdealincomfortablebalances,Isuppose!’Iretorted.
‘Fourhundredandforty-fourpounds,fourandfourpence,’saidPoirotwithsomecomplacency.‘Aneatfigure,isitnot?’
‘Itmustbetactonthepartofyourbankmanager.Heisevidentlyacquaintedwithyourpassionforsymmetricaldetails.Whataboutinvesting,say,threehundredofitinthePorcupineoil-fields?Theirprospectus,whichisadvertisedinthepaperstoday,saysthattheywillpayonehundredpercentdividendsnextyear.’
‘Notforme,’saidPoirot,shakinghishead.‘Ilikenotthesensational.Formethesafe,theprudentinvestment—lesrentes,theconsols,the—howdoyoucallit?—theconversion.’
‘Haveyounevermadeaspeculativeinvestment?’
‘No,monami,’repliedPoirotseverely.‘Ihavenot.AndtheonlysharesIownwhichhavenotwhatyoucallthegildededgearefourteenthousandsharesintheBurmaMinesLtd.’
Poirotpausedwithanairofwaitingtobeencouragedtogoon.
‘Yes?’Iprompted.
‘AndforthemIpaidnocash—no,theyweretherewardoftheexerciseofmylittlegreycells.Youwouldliketohearthestory?Yes?’
‘OfcourseIwould.’
‘TheseminesaresituatedintheinteriorofBurmaabouttwohundredmilesinlandfromRangoon.TheywerediscoveredbytheChineseinthefifteenthcenturyandworkeddowntothetimeoftheMohammedanRebellion,beingfinallyabandonedintheyear1868.TheChineseextractedtherichlead-silverorefromtheupperpartoftheorebody,smeltingitforthesilveralone,andleavinglargequantitiesofrichlead-bearingslag.This,ofcourse,wassoondiscoveredwhenprospectingworkwascarriedoutinBurma,butowingtothefactthattheoldworkingshadbecomefullofloosefillingandwater,allattemptstofindthesourceoftheoreprovedfruitless.Manypartiesweresentoutbysyndicates,andtheydugoveralargearea,butthisrichprizestilleludedthem.ButarepresentativeofoneofthesyndicatesgotonthetrackofaChinesefamilywhoweresupposedtohavestillkeptarecordofthesituationofthemine.ThepresentheadofthefamilywasoneWuLing.’
‘Whatafascinatingpageofcommercialromance!’Iexclaimed.
‘Isitnot?Ah,monami,onecanhaveromancewithoutgolden-hairedgirlsofmatchlessbeauty—no,Iamwrong;itisauburnhairthatsoexcitesyoualways.Youremember—’
‘Goonwiththestory,’Isaidhastily.
‘Ehbien,myfriend,thisWuLingwasapproached.Hewasanestimablemerchant,muchrespectedintheprovincewherehelived.Headmittedatoncethatheownedthedocumentsinquestion,andwasperfectlypreparedtonegotiateforthissale,butheobjectedtodealingwithanyoneotherthanprincipals.FinallyitwasarrangedthatheshouldjourneytoEnglandandmeetthedirectorsofanimportantcompany.
‘WuLingmadethejourneytoEnglandintheSSAssunta,andtheAssuntadockedatSouthamptononacold,foggymorninginNovember.Oneofthedirectors,MrPearson,wentdowntoSouthamptontomeettheboat,butowingtothefog,thetraindownwasverymuchdelayed,andbythetimehearrived,WuLinghaddisembarkedandleftbyspecialtrainforLondon.MrPearsonreturnedtotownsomewhatannoyed,ashehadnoideawheretheChinamanproposedtostay.Laterintheday,however,theofficesofthecompanywererunguponthetelephone.WuLingwasstayingattheRussellSquareHotel.Hewasfeelingsomewhatunwellafterthevoyage,butdeclaredhimselfperfectlyabletoattendtheboardmeetingonthefollowingday.
‘Themeetingoftheboardtookplaceateleveno’clock.Whenhalfpastelevencame,andWuLinghadnotputinanappearance,thesecretaryranguptheRussellHotel.Inanswertohisinquiries,hewastoldthattheChinamanhadgoneoutwithafriendabouthalfpastten.Itseemedclearthathehadstartedoutwiththeintentionofcomingtothemeeting,butthemorningworeaway,andhedidnotappear.Itwas,ofcourse,possiblethathehadlosthisway,beingunacquaintedwithLondon,butatalatehourthatnighthehadnotreturnedtothehotel.Thoroughlyalarmednow,MrPearsonputmattersinthehandsofthepolice.Onthefollowingday,therewasstillnotraceofthemissingman,buttowardseveningofthedayafterthatagain,abodywasfoundintheThameswhichprovedtobethatoftheill-fatedChinaman.Neitheronthebody,norintheluggageatthehotel,wasthereanytraceofthepapersrelatingtothemine.
‘Atthisjuncture,monami,Iwasbroughtintotheaffair.MrPearsoncalleduponme.WhileprofoundlyshockedbythedeathofWuLing,hischiefanxietywastorecoverthepaperswhichweretheobjectoftheChinaman’svisittoEngland.Themainanxietyofthepolice,ofcourse,wouldbetotrackdownthemurderer—therecoveryofthepaperswouldbeasecondaryconsideration.Whathewantedmetodowastoco-operatewiththepolicewhileactingintheinterestsofthecompany.
‘Iconsentedreadilyenough.Itwasclearthatthereweretwofieldsofsearchopentome.Ontheonehand,ImightlookamongtheemployeesofthecompanywhoknewoftheChinaman’scoming;ontheother,amongthepassengersontheboatwhomighthavebeenacquaintedwithhismission.Istartedwiththesecond,asbeinganarrowerfieldofsearch
‘OurnextstepwastovisittheRussellSquareHotel.ShownasnapshotofWuLing,theyrecognizedhimatonce.WethenshowedthemthesnapshotofDyer,buttoourdisappointment,thehallporterdeclaredpositivelythatthatwasnotthemanwhohadcometothehotelonthefatalmorning.Almostasanafterthought,IproducedthephotographofLester,andtomysurprisethemanatoncerecognizedit.
‘“Yes,sir,”heasserted,“that’sthegentlemanwhocameinathalfpasttenandaskedforMrWuLing,andafterwardswentoutwithhim.”
‘Theaffairwasprogressing.OurnextmovewastointerviewMrCharlesLester.Hemetuswiththeutmostfrankness,wasdesolatedtohearoftheChinaman’suntimelydeath,andputhimselfatourdisposalineveryway.Hisstorywasasfollows:ByarrangementwithWuLing,hecalledforhimatthehotelatten-thirty.WuLing,however,didnotappear.Instead,hisservantcame,explainedthathismasterhadhadtogoout,andofferedtoconducttheyoungmantowherehismasternowwas.Suspectingnothing,Lesteragreed,andtheChinamanprocuredataxi.Theydroveforsometimeinthedirectionofthedocks.Suddenlybecomingmistrustful,Lesterstoppedthetaxiandgotout,disregardingtheservant’sprotests.That,heassuredus,wasallheknew.
‘Apparentlysatisfied,wethankedhimandtookourleave.Hisstorywassoonprovedtobeasomewhatinaccurateone.Tobeginwith,WuLinghadhadnoservantwithhim,eitherontheboatoratthehotel.Inthesecondplace,thetaxidriverwhohaddriventhetwomenonthatmorningcameforward.FarfromLester’shavingleftthetaxienroute,heandtheChinesegentlemanhaddriventoacertainunsavourydwelling-placeinLimehouse,rightintheheartofChinatown.Theplaceinquestionwasmoreorlesswellknownasanopium-denofthelowestdescription.Thetwogentlemenhadgonein—aboutanhourlatertheEnglishgentleman,whomheidentifiedfromthephotograph,cameoutalone.He
‘InquiriesweremadeaboutCharlesLester’sstanding,anditwasfoundthat,thoughbearinganexcellentcharacter,hewasheavilyindebt,andhadasecretpassionforgambling.Dyer,ofcourse,wasnotlostsightof.Itseemedjustfaintlypossiblethathemighthaveimpersonatedtheotherman,butthatideawasprovedutterlygroundless.Hisalibiforthewholeofthedayinquestionwasabsolutelyunimpeachable.Ofcourse,theproprietoroftheopium-dendeniedeverythingwithOrientalstolidity.HehadneverseenCharlesLester.Notwogentlemenhadbeentotheplacethatmorning.Inanycase,thepolicewerewrong:noopiumwaseversmokedthere.
‘Hisdenials,howeverwellmeant,didlittletohelpCharlesLester.HewasarrestedforthemurderofWuLing.Asearchofhiseffectswasmade,butnopapersrelatingtotheminewerediscovered.Theproprietoroftheopium-denwasalsotakenintocustody,butacursoryraidofhispremisesyieldednothing.Notevenastickofopiumrewardedthezealofthepolice.
‘InthemeantimemyfriendMrPearsonwasinagreatstateofagitation.Hestrodeupanddownmyroom,utteringgreatlamentations.
‘“Butyoumusthavesomeideas,M.Poirot!”hekepturging.“Surelyyoumusthavesomeideas!”
‘“CertainlyIhaveideas,”Irepliedcautiously.“Thatisthetrouble—onehastoomany;thereforetheyallleadindifferentdirections.”
‘“Forinstance?”hesuggested.
‘“Forinstance—thetaxi-driver.Wehaveonlyhiswordforitthathedrovethetwomentothathouse.Thatisoneidea.Then—wasitreallythathousetheywentto?Supposingthattheyleftthetaxithere,passedthroughthehouseandoutbyanotherentranceandwentelsewhere?”
‘MrPearsonseemedstruckbythat.
‘“Butyoudonothingbutsitandthink?Can’twedosomething?”
‘Hewasofanimpatienttemperament,youcomprehend.
‘“Monsieur,”Isaidwithdignity,“ItisnotforHerculePoirottorunupanddowntheevil-smellingstreetsofLimehouselikealittledogofnobreeding.Becalm.Myagentsareatwork.”
‘OnthefollowingdayIhadnewsforhim.Thetwomenhadindeedpassedthroughthehouseinquestion,buttheirrealobjectivewasasmalleating-houseclosetotheriver.Theywereseentopassinthere,andLestercameoutalone.
‘Andthen,figuretoyourself,Hastings,anideaofthemostunreasonableseizedthisMrPearson!Nothingwouldsuithimbutthatweshouldgoourselvestothiseating-houseandmakeinvestigations.Iarguedandprayed,buthewouldnotlisten.Hetalkedofdisguisinghimself—heevensuggestedthatI—Ishould—Ihesitatetosayit—shouldshaveoffmymoustache!Yes,rienque?a!Ipointedouttohimthatthatwasanidearidiculousandabsurd.Onedestroysnotathingofbeautywantonly.Besides,shallnotaBelgiangentlemanwithamoustachedesiretoseelifeandsmokeopiumjustasreadilyasonewithoutamoustache?
‘Ehbien,hegaveinonthat,buthestillinsistedonhisproject.Heturnedupthatevening—Mondieu,whatafigure!Heworewhathecalledthe“pea-jacket”,hischin,itwasdirtyandunshaved;hehadascarfofthevilestthatoffendedthenose.Andfiguretoyourself,hewasenjoyinghimself!Truly,theEnglisharemad!Hemadesomechangesinmyownappearance.Ipermittedit.Canonearguewithamaniac?Westartedout—afterall,couldIlethimgoalone,achilddresseduptoactthecharades?’
‘Ofcourseyoucouldn’t,’Ireplied.
‘Tocontinue—wearrived.MrPearsontalkedEnglishofthestrangest.Herepresentedhimselftobeamanofthesea.Hetalkedof“lubbers”and“focselles”andIknownotwhat.ItwasalowlittleroomwithmanyChineseinit.Weateofpeculiardishes.Ah,Dieu,monestomac!’Poirotclaspedthatportionofhisanatomybeforecontinuing.‘Thentherecametoustheproprietor,aChinamanwithafaceofevilsmiles.
‘“Yougentlemennolikeefoodhere,”hesaid.“Youcomeforwhatyoulikeebetter.Pieceepipe,eh?”
‘MrPearson,hegavemethegreatkickunderthetable.(Hehadonthebootsoftheseatoo!)Andhesaid:“Idon’tmindifIdo,John.Leadahead.”
‘TheChinamansmiled,andhetookusthroughadoorandtoacellarandthroughatrapdoor,anddownsomestepsandupagainintoaroomallfullofdivansandcushionsofthemostcomfortable.WelaydownandaChineseboytookoffourboots.Itwasthebestmomentoftheevening.Thentheybroughtustheopium-pipesandcookedtheopium-pills,andwepretendedtosmokeandthentosleepanddream.Butwhenwewerealone,MrPearsoncalledsoftlytome,andimmediatelyhebegancrawlingalongthefloor.Wewentintoanotherroomwhereotherpeoplewereasleep,andsoon,untilweheardtwomentalking.Westayedbehindacurtainandlistened.TheywerespeakingofWuLing.
‘“Whataboutthepapers?”saidone.
‘“MrLester,hetakeethose,”answeredtheother,whowasaChinaman.“Hesay,putteethemalleeinsafeeplace—wherepleecemannolookee.”
‘“Ah,buthe’snabbed,”saidthefirstone.
‘“Hegetteefree.Pleecemannotsurehedoneit.”
‘Therewasmoreofthesamekindofthing,thenapparentlythetwomenwerecomingourway,andwescuttledbacktoourbeds.
‘“We’dbettergetoutofhere,”saidPearson,afterafewminuteshadelapsed.“Thisplaceisn’thealthy.”
‘“Youareright,monsieur,”Iagreed.“Wehaveplayedthefarcelongenough.”
‘Wesucceededingettingaway,allright,payinghandsomelyforoursmoke.OnceclearofLimehouse,Pearsondrewalongbreath.
‘“I’mgladtogetoutofthat,”hesaid.“Butit’ssomethingtobesure.”
‘“Itisindeed,”Iagreed.“AndIfancythatweshallnothavemuchdifficultyinfindingwhatwewant—afterthisevening’smasquerade.”
‘Andtherewasnodifficultywhatsoever,’finishedPoirotsuddenly.
ThisabruptendingseemedsoextraordinarythatIstaredathim.
‘But—butwherewerethey?’Iasked
‘Inhispocket—toutsimplement.’
‘Butinwhosepocket?’
‘MrPearson’s,parbleu!’Then,observingmylookofbewilderment,hecontinuedgently:‘Youdonotyetseeit?MrPearson,likeCharlesLester,wasindebt.MrPearson,likeCharlesLester,wasfondofgambling.AndheconceivedtheideaofstealingthepapersfromtheChinaman.HemethimallrightatSouthampton,cameuptoLondonwithhim,andtookhimstraighttoLimehouse.Itwasfoggythatday;theChinamanwouldnotnoticewherehewasgoing.IfancyMrPearsonsmokedtheopiumfairlyoftendownthereandhadsomepeculiarfriendsinconsequence.Idonotthinkhemeantmurder.HisideawasthatoneoftheChinamenshouldimpersonateWuLingandreceivethemoneyforthesaleofthedocument.Sofar,sogood!But,totheOrientalmind,itwasinfinitelysimplertokillWuLingandthrowhisbodyintotheriver,andPearson’sChineseaccomplicesfollowedtheirownmethodswithoutconsultinghim.Imagine,then,whatyouwouldcallthe“funkbleu”ofM.Pearson.SomeonemayhaveseenhiminthetrainwithWuLing—murderisaverydifferentthingfromsimpleabduction.
‘HissalvationlieswiththeChinamanwhoispersonatingWuLingattheRussellSquareHotel.Ifonlythebodyisnotdiscoveredtoosoon!ProbablyWuLinghadtoldhimofthearrangementbetweenhimandCharlesLesterwherebythelatterwastocallforhimatthehotel.Pearsonseesthereanexcellentwayofdivertingsuspicionfromhimself.CharlesLestershallbethelastpersontobeseenincompanywithWuLing.TheimpersonatorhasorderstorepresenthimselftoLesterastheservantofWuLing,andtobringhimasspeedilyaspossibletoLimehouse.There,verylikely,hewasofferedadrink.Thedrinkwouldbesuitablydrugged,andwhenLesteremergedanhourlater,hewouldhaveaveryhazyimpressionofwhathadhappened.Somuchwasthisthecase,thatassoonasLesterlearnedofWuLing’sdeath,heloseshisnerve,anddeniesthatheeverreachedLimehouse.
‘Bythat,ofcourse,heplaysrightintoPearson’shands.ButisPearsoncontent?No—mymannerdisquietshim,andhedeterminestocompletethecaseagainstLester.Sohearrangesanelaboratemasquerade.Me,Iamtobegulledcompletely.DidInotsayjustnowthathewasasachildactingthecharades?Ehbien,Iplaymypart.Hegoeshomerejoicing.Butinthemorning,InspectorMillerarrivesonhisdoorstep.Thepapersarefoundonhim;thegameisup.BitterlyheregretspermittinghimselftoplaythefarcewithHerculePoirot!Therewasonlyonerealdifficultyintheaffair.’
‘Whatwasthat?’Idemandedcuriously
‘ConvincingInspectorMiller!Whatananimal,that!Bothobstinateandimbecile.Andintheendhetookallthecredit!’
‘Toobad,’Icried.
‘Ah,well,Ihadmycompensations.TheotherdirectorsoftheBurmaMinesLtdawardedmefourteenthousandsharesasasmallrecompenseformyservices.Notsobad,eh?Butwheninvestingmoney,keep,Ibegofyou,Hastings,strictlytotheconservative.Thethingsyoureadinthepaper,theymaynotbetrue.ThedirectorsofthePorcupine—theymaybesomanyMrPearsons!’
ThePlymouthExpress
I
AlecSimpson,RN,steppedfromtheplatformatNewtonAbbotintoafirst-classcompartmentofthePlymouthExpress.Aporterfollowedhimwithaheavysuitcase.Hewasabouttoswingituptotherack,buttheyoungsailorstoppedhim
‘No—leaveitontheseat.I’llputituplater.Hereyouare.’
‘Thankyou,sir.’Theporter,generouslytipped,withdrew.
Doorsbanged;astentorianvoiceshouted:‘Plymouthonly.ChangeforTorquay.Plymouthnextstop.’Thenawhistleblew,andthetraindrewslowlyoutofthestation.
LieutenantSimpsonhadthecarriagetohimself.TheDecemberairwaschilly,andhepulledupthewindow.Thenhesniffedvaguely,andfrowned.Whatasmelltherewas!Remindedhimofthattimeinhospital,andtheoperationonhisleg.Yes,chloroform;thatwasit!
Heletthewindowdownagain,changinghisseattoonewithitsbacktotheengine.Hepulledapipeoutofhispocketandlitit.Foralittletimehesatinactive,lookingoutintothenightandsmoking.
Atlastherousedhimself,andopeningthesuitcase,tookoutsomepapersandmagazines,thenclosedthesuitcaseagainandendeavouredtoshoveitundertheoppositeseat—withoutsuccess.Someobstacleresistedit.Heshovedharderwithrisingimpatience,butitstillstuckouthalf-wayintothecarriage.
‘Whythedevilwon’titgoin?’hemuttered,andhaulingitoutcompletely,hestoopeddownandpeeredundertheseat…
Amomentlateracryrangoutintothenight,andthegreattraincametoanunwillinghaltinobediencetotheimperativejerkingofthecommunicationcord
II
‘Monami,’saidPoirot,‘youhave,Iknow,beendeeplyinterestedinthismysteryofthePlymouthExpress.Readthis.’
Ipickedupthenoteheflickedacrossthetabletome.Itwasbriefandtothepoint.
DearSir,Ishallbeobligedifyouwillcalluponmeatyourearliestconvenience.Yoursfaithfully,EbenezerHalliday
Theconnectionwasnotcleartomymind,andIlookedinquiringlyatPoirot.
Foranswerhetookupthenewspaperandreadaloud:‘“Asensationaldiscoverywasmadelastnight.AyoungnavalofficerreturningtoPlymouthfoundundertheseatofhiscompartmentthebodyofawoman,stabbedthroughtheheart.Theofficeratoncepulledthecommunicationcord,andthetrainwasbroughttoastandstill.Thewoman,whowasaboutthirtyyearsofage,andrichlydressed,hasnotyetbeenidentified.”
‘Andlaterwehavethis:“ThewomanfounddeadinthePlymouthExpresshasbeenidentifiedastheHonourableMrsRupertCarrington.”Youseenow,myfriend?OrifyoudonotIwilladdthis—MrsRupertCarringtonwas,beforehermarriage,FlossieHalliday,daughterofoldmanHalliday,thesteelkingofAmerica.’
‘Andhehassentforyou?Splendid!’
‘Ididhimalittleserviceinthepast—anaffairofbearerbonds.Andonce,whenIwasinParisforaroyalvisit,IhadMademoiselleFlossiepointedouttome.Lajoliepetitepensionnaire!Shehadthejolidottoo!Itcausedtrouble.Shenearlymadeabadaffair.’
‘Howwasthat?’
‘AcertainCountdelaRochefour.Unbienmauvaissujet!Abadhat,asyouwouldsay.Anadventurerpureandsimple,whoknewhowtoappealtoaromanticyounggirl.Luckilyherfathergotwindofitintime.HetookherbacktoAmericainhaste.Iheardofhermarriagesomeyearslater,butIknownothingofherhusband.’
‘H’m,’Isaid.‘TheHonourableRupertCarringtonisnobeauty,byallaccounts.He’dprettywellrunthroughhisownmoneyontheturf,andIshouldimagineoldmanHalliday’sdollarscamealonginthenickoftime.Ishouldsaythatforagood-looking,well-mannered,utterlyunscrupulousyoungscoundrel,itwouldbehardtofindhismate!’
‘Ah,thepoorlittlelady!Ellen’estpasbientombée!’
‘Ifancyhemadeitprettyobviousatoncethatitwashermoney,andnotshe,thathadattactedhim.Ibelievetheydriftedapartalmostatonce.Ihaveheardrumourslatelythattherewastobeadefinitelegalseparation.’
‘OldmanHallidayisnofool.Hewouldtieuphermoneyprettytight.’
‘Idaresay.Anyway,IknowasafactthattheHonourableRupertissaidtobeextremelyhardup.’
‘Aha!Iwonder—’
‘Youwonderwhat?’
‘Mygoodfriend,donotjumpdownmythroatlikethat.Youareinterested,Isee.SupposeyouaccompanymetoseeMrHalliday.Thereisataxi-standatthecorner.’
III
AfewminutessufficedtowhirlustothesuperbhouseinParkLanerentedbytheAmericanmagnate.Wewereshownintothelibrary,andalmostimmediatelywewerejoinedbyalargestoutman,withpiercingeyesandanaggressivechin.
‘M.Poirot?’saidMrHalliday.‘IguessIdon’tneedtotellyouwhatIwantyoufor.You’vereadthepapers,andI’mneveronetoletthegrassgrowundermyfeet.IhappenedtohearyouwereinLondon,andIrememberedthegoodworkyoudidoverthosebombs.Neverforgetaname.I’vethepickofScotlandYard,butI’llhavemyownmanaswell.Moneynoobject.Allthedollarsweremadeformylittlegirl—andnowshe’sgone,I’llspendmylastcenttocatchthedamnedscoundrelthatdidit!See?Soit’suptoyoutodeliverthegoods.’
Poirotbowed.
‘Iaccept,monsieur,allthemorewillinglythatIsawyourdaughterinParisseveraltimes.AndnowIwillaskyoutotellmethecircumstancesofherjourneytoPlymouthandanyotherdetailsthatseemtoyoutobearuponthecase.’
‘Well,tobeginwith,’respondedHalliday,‘shewasn’tgoingtoPlymouth.Shewasgoingtojoinahouse-partyatAvonmeadCourt,theDuchessofSwansea’splace.SheleftLondonbythetwelve-fourteenfromPaddington,arrivingatBristol(whereshehadtochange)attwo-fifty.TheprincipalPlymouthexpresses,ofcourse,runviaWestbury,anddonotgonearBristolatall.Thetwelve-fourteendoesanon-stopruntoBristol,afterwardsstoppingatWeston,Taunton,ExeterandNewtonAbbot.Mydaughtertravelledaloneinhercarriage,whichwasreservedasfarasBristol,hermaidbeinginathirdclasscarriageinthenextcoach.’
Poirotnodded,andMrHallidaywenton:‘ThepartyatAvonmeadCourtwastobeaverygayone,withseveralballs,andinconsequencemydaughterhadwithhernearlyallherjewels—amountinginvalue,perhaps,toaboutahundredthousanddollars.’
‘Unmoment,’interruptedPoirot.‘Whohadchargeofthejewels?Yourdaughter,orthemaid?’
‘Mydaughteralwaystookchargeofthemherself,carryingtheminasmallbluemoroccocase.’
‘Continue,monsieur.’
‘AtBristolthemaid,JaneMason,collectedhermistress’sdressing-bagandwraps,whichwerewithher,andcametothedoorofFlossie’scompartment.Toherintensesurprise,mydaughtertoldherthatshewasnotgettingoutatBristol,butwasgoingonfarther.ShedirectedMasontogetouttheluggageandputitinthecloakroom.Shecouldhaveteaintherefreshment-room,butshewastowaitatthestationforhermistress,whowouldreturntoBristolbyanup-traininthecourseoftheafternoon.Themaid,althoughverymuchastonished,didasshewastold.Sheputtheluggageinthecloakroomandhadsometea.Butup-trainafterup-traincamein,andhermistressdidnotappear.After
‘Istherenothingtoaccountforyourdaughter’ssuddenchangeofplan?’
‘Wellthereisthis:AccordingtoJaneMason,atBristol,Flossiewasnolongeraloneinhercarriage.Therewasamaninitwhostoodlookingoutofthefartherwindowsothatshecouldnotseehisface.’
‘Thetrainwasacorridorone,ofcourse?’
‘Yes.’
‘Whichsidewasthecorridor?’
‘Ontheplatformside.MydaughterwasstandinginthecorridorasshetalkedtoMason.’
‘Andthereisnodoubtinyourmind—excuseme!’Hegotup,andcarefullystraightenedtheink-standwhichwasalittleaskew.‘Jevousdemandepardon,’hecontinued,re-seatinghimself.‘Itaffectsmynervestoseeanythingcrooked.Strange,isitnot?Iwassaying,monsieur,thatthereisnodoubtinyourmindastothisprobablyunexpectedmeetingbeingthecauseofyourdaughter’ssuddenchangeofplan?’
‘Itseemstheonlyreasonablesupposition.’
‘Youhavenoideaastowhothegentlemaninquestionmightbe?’
Themillionairehesitatedforamoment,andthenreplied:‘No—Idonotknowatall.’
‘Now—astothediscoveryofthebody?’
‘Itwasdiscoveredbyayoungnavalofficerwhoatoncegavethealarm.Therewasadoctoronthetrain.Heexaminedthebody.Shehadbeenfirstchloroformed,andthenstabbed.Hegaveitashisopinionthatshehadbeendeadaboutfourhours,soitmusthavebeendonenotlongafterleavingBristol—probablybetweenthereandWeston,possiblybetweenWestonandTaunton.’
‘Andthejewel-case?’
‘Thejewel-case,M.Poirot,wasmissing.’
‘Onethingmore,monsieur.Yourdaughter’sfortune—towhomdoesitpassatherdeath?’
‘Flossiemadeawillsoonafterhermarriage,leavingeverythingtoherhusband.’Hehesitatedforaminute,andthenwenton:‘Imayaswelltellyou,MonsieurPoirot,thatIregardmyson-in-lawasanunprincipledscoundrel,andthat,bymyadvice,mydaughterwasontheeveoffreeingherselffromhimbylegalmeans—nodifficultmatter.Isettledhermoneyuponherinsuchawaythathecouldnottouchitduringherlifetime,butalthoughtheyhavelivedentirelyapartforsomeyears,shehadfrequentlyaccededtohisdemandsformoney,ratherthanfaceanopenscandal.However,Iwasdeterminedtoputanendtothis.AtlastFlossieagreed,andmylawyerswereinstructedtotakeproceedings.’
‘AndwhereisMonsieurCarrington?’
‘Intown.Ibelievehewasawayinthecountryyesterday,buthereturnedlastnight.’
Poirotconsideredalittlewhile.Thenhesaid:‘Ithinkthatisall,monsieur.’
‘Youwouldliketoseethemaid,JaneMason?’
‘Ifyouplease.’
Hallidayrangthebell,andgaveashortordertothefootman.
AfewminuteslaterJaneMasonenteredtheroom,arespectable,hard-featuredwoman,asemotionlessinthefaceoftragedyasonlyagoodservantcanbe.
‘Youwillpermitmetoputafewquestions?Yourmistress,shewasquiteasusualbeforestartingyesterdaymorning?Notexcitedorflurried?’
‘Ohno,sir!’
‘ButatBristolshewasquitedifferent?’
‘Yes,sir,regularupset—sonervousshedidn’tseemtoknowwhatshewassaying.’
‘Whatdidshesayexactly?’
‘Well,sir,asnearasIcanremember,shesaid:“Mason,I’vegottoaltermyplans.Somethinghashappened—Imean,I’mnotgettingouthereafterall.Imustgoon.Getouttheluggageandputitinthecloakroom;thenhavesometea,andwaitformeinthestation.”
‘“Waitforyouhere,ma’am?”Iasked.
‘“Yes,yes.Don’tleavethestation.Ishallreturnbyalatertrain.Idon’tknowwhen.Itmayn’tbeuntilquitelate.”
‘“Verywell,ma’am,”Isays.Itwasn’tmyplacetoaskquestions,butIthoughtitverystrange.’
‘Itwasunlikeyourmistress,eh?’
‘Veryunlikeher,sir.’
‘Whatdoyouthink?’
‘Well,sir,Ithoughtitwastodowiththegentlemaninthecarriage.Shedidn’tspeaktohim,butsheturnedroundonceortwiceasthoughtoaskhimifshewasdoingright.’
‘Butyoudidn’tseethegentleman’sface?’
‘No,sir;hestoodwithhisbacktomeallthetime.’
‘Canyoudescribehimatall?’
‘Hehadonalightfawnovercoat,andatravelling-cap.Hewastallandslender,likeandthebackofhisheadwasdark.’
‘Youdidn’tknowhim?’
‘Ohno,Idon’tthinkso,sir.’
‘Itwasnotyourmaster,MrCarrington,byanychance?’
Masonlookedratherstartled.
‘Oh,Idon’tthinkso,sir!’
‘Butyouarenotsure?’
‘Itwasaboutthemaster’sbuild,sir—butIneverthoughtofitbeinghim.Wesoseldomsawhim…Icouldn’tsayitwasn’thim!’
Poirotpickedupapinfromthecarpet,andfrownedatitseverely;thenhecontinued:‘WoulditbepossibleforthemantohaveenteredthetrainatBristolbeforeyoureachedthecarriage?’
Masonconsidered.
‘Yes,sir,Ithinkitwould.Mycompartmentwasverycrowded,anditwassomeminutesbeforeIcouldgetout—andthentherewasaverylargecrowdontheplatform,andthatdelayedmetoo.Buthe’donlyhavehadaminuteortwotospeaktothemistress,thatway.Itookitforgrantedthathe’dcomealongthecorridor.’
‘Thatismoreprobable,certainly.’
Hepaused,stillfrowning.
‘Youknowhowthemistresswasdressed,sir?’
‘Thepapersgiveafewdetails,butIwouldlikeyoutoconfirmthem.’
‘Shewaswearingawhitefoxfurtoque,sir,withawhitespottedveil,andabluefriezecoatandskirt—theshadeofbluetheycallelectric.’
‘H’m,ratherstriking.’
‘Yes,’remarkedMrHalliday.‘InspectorJappisinhopesthatthatmayhelpustofixthespotwherethecrimetookplace.Anyonewhosawherwouldrememberher.’
‘Précisément!—Thankyou,mademoiselle.’
Themaidlefttheroom.
‘Well!’Poirotgotupbriskly.‘ThatisallIcandohere—except,monsieur,thatIwouldaskyoutotellmeeverything,buteverything!’
‘Ihavedoneso.’
‘Youaresure?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Thenthereisnothingmoretobesaid.Imustdeclinethecase.’
‘Why?’
‘Becauseyouhavenotbeenfrankwithme.’
‘Iassureyou—’
‘No,youarekeepingsomethingback.’
Therewasamoment’spause,andthenHallidaydrewapaperfromhispocketandhandedittomyfriend.
‘Iguessthat’swhatyou’reafter,MonsieurPoirot—thoughhowyouknowaboutitfairlygetsmygoat!’
Poirotsmiled,andunfoldedthepaper.Itwasaletterwritteninthinslopinghandwriting.Poirotreaditaloud.
‘ChèreMadame,ItiswithinfinitepleasurethatIlookforwardtothefelicityofmeetingyouagain.Afteryoursoamiablereplytomyletter,Icanhardlyrestrainmyimpatience.IhaveneverforgottenthosedaysinParis.ItismostcruelthatyoushouldbeleavingLondontomorrow.However,beforeverylong,andperhapssoonerthanyouthink,Ishallhavethejoyofbeholdingoncemoretheladywhoseimagehaseverreignedsupremeinmyheart.Believe,chèremadame,alltheassurancesofmymostdevotedandunalteredsentiments—ArmanddelaRochefour.’
PoirothandedtheletterbacktoHallidaywithabow.
‘Ifancy,monsieur,thatyoudidnotknowthatyourdaughterintendedrenewingheracquaintancewiththeCountdelaRochefour?’
‘Itcameasathunderbolttome!Ifoundthisletterinmydaughter’shandbag.Asyouprobablyknow,MonsieurPoirot,thisso-calledcountisanadventureroftheworsttype.’
Poirotnodded.
‘ButIwanttoknowhowyouknewoftheexistenceofthisletter?’
Myfriendsmiled.‘Monsieur,Ididnot.Buttotrackfootmarksandrecognizecigarette-ashisnotsufficientforadetective.Hemustalsobeagoodpsychologist!Iknewthatyoudislikedandmistrustedyourson-in-law.Hebenefitsbyyourdaughter’sdeath;themaid’sdescriptionofthemysteriousmanbearsasufficientresemblancetohim.Yetyouarenotkeenonhistrack!Why?Surelybecauseyoursuspicionslieinanotherdirection.Thereforeyouwerekeepingsomethingback.’
‘You’reright,MonsieurPoirot.IwassureofRupert’sguiltuntilIfoundthisletter.Itunsettledmehorribly.’
‘Yes.TheCountsays“Beforeverylong,andperhapssoonerthanyouthink.”Obviouslyhewouldnotwanttowaituntilyoushouldgetwindofhisreappearance.WasithewhotravelleddownfromLondonbythetwelve-fourteen,andcamealongthecorridortoyourdaughter’scompartment?TheCountdelaRochefourisalso,ifIrememberrightly,tallanddark!’
Themillionairenodded.
‘Well,monsieur,Iwillwishyougoodday.ScotlandYardhas,Ipresume,alistofthejewels?’
‘Yes,IbelieveInspectorJappisherenowifyouwouldliketoseehim.’
IV
Jappwasanoldfriendofours,andgreetedPoirotwithasortofaffectionatecontempt.
‘Andhowareyou,monsieur?Nobadfeelingbetweenus,thoughwehavegotourdifferentwaysoflookingatthings.Howarethe“littlegreycells”,eh?Goingstrong?’
Poirotbeameduponhim.‘Theyfunction,mygoodJapp;assuredlytheydo!’
‘Thenthat’sallright.ThinkitwastheHonourableRupert,oracrook?We’rekeepinganeyeonalltheregularplaces,ofcourse.Weshallknowiftheshinersaredisposedof,andofcoursewhoeverdiditisn’tgoingtokeepthemtoadmiretheirsparkle.Notlikely!I’mtryingtofindoutwhereRupertCarringtonwasyesterday.Seemsabitofamysteryaboutit.I’vegotamanwatchinghim.’
‘Agreatprecaution,butperhapsadaylate,’suggestedPoirotgently.
‘Youalwayswillhaveyourjoke,MonsieurPoirot.Well,I’mofftoPaddington.Bristol,Weston,Taunton,that’smybeat.Solong.’
‘Youwillcomeroundandseemethisevening,andtellmetheresult?’
‘Surething,ifI’mback.’
‘Thegoodinspectorbelievesinmatterinmotion,’murmuredPoirotasourfrienddeparted.‘Hetravels;hemeasuresfootprints;hecollectsmudandcigarette-ash!Heisextremelybusy!Heiszealousbeyondwords!AndifImentionedpsychologytohim,doyouknowwhathewoulddo,myfriend?Hewouldsmile!Hewouldsaytohimself:“PooroldPoirot!Heages!Hegrowssenile!”Jappisthe“youngergenerationknockingonthedoor.”Andmafoi!Theyaresobusyknockingthattheydonotnoticethatthedoorisopen!’
‘Andwhatareyougoingtodo?’
‘Aswehavecarteblanche,IshallexpendthreepenceinringinguptheRitz—whereyoumayhavenoticedourCountisstaying.Afterthat,asmyfeetarealittledamp,andIhavesneezedtwice,Ishallreturntomyroomsandmakemyselfatisaneoverthespiritlamp!’
V
IdidnotseePoirotagainuntilthefollowingmorning.Ifoundhimplacidlyfinishinghisbreakfast.
‘Well?’Iinquiredeagerly.‘Whathashappened?’
‘Nothing.’
‘ButJapp?’
‘Ihavenotseenhim.’
‘TheCount?’
‘HelefttheRitzthedaybeforeyesterday.’
‘Thedayofthemurder?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thenthatsettlesit!RupertCarringtoniscleared.’
‘BecausetheCountdelaRochefourhaslefttheRitz?Yougotoofast,myfriend.’
‘Anyway,hemustbefollowed,arrested!Butwhatcouldbehismotive?’
‘Onehundredthousanddollars’worthofjewelleryisaverygoodmotiveforanyone.No,thequestiontomymindis:whykillher?Whynotsimplystealthejewels?Shewouldnotprosecute.’
‘Whynot?’
‘Becausesheisawoman,monami.Sheoncelovedthisman.Thereforeshewouldsufferherlossinsilence.AndtheCount,whoisanextremelygoodpsychologistwherewomenareconcerned—hencehissuccesses—wouldknowthatperfectlywell!Ontheotherhand,ifRupertCarringtonkilledher,whytakethejewelswhichwouldincriminatehimfatally?’
‘Asablind.’
‘Perhapsyouareright,myfriend.Ah,hereisJapp!Irecognizehisknock.’
Theinspectorwasbeaminggood-humouredly.
‘Morning,Poirot.Onlyjustgotback.I’vedonesomegoodwork!Andyou?’
‘Me,Ihavearrangedmyideas,’repliedPoirotplacidly.
Japplaughedheartily.
‘Oldchap’sgettingoninyears,’heobservedbeneathhisbreathtome.‘Thatwon’tdoforusyoungfolk,’hesaidaloud.
‘Queldommage?’Poirotinquired.
‘Well,doyouwanttohearwhatI’vedone?’
‘Youpermitmetomakeaguess?Youhavefoundtheknifewithwhichthecrimewascommitted,bythesideofthelinebetweenWestonandTaunton,andyouhaveinterviewedthepaper-boywhospoketoMrsCarringtonatWeston!’
Japp’sjawfell.‘Howonearthdidyouknow?Don’ttellmeitwasthosealmighty“littlegreycells”ofyours!’
‘Iamgladyouadmitforoncethattheyareallmighty!Tellme,didshegivethepaper-boyashillingforhimself?’
‘No,itwashalfacrown!’Japphadrecoveredhistemper,andgrinned.‘Prettyextravagant,theserichAmericans!’
‘Andinconsequencetheboydidnotforgether?’
‘Nothe.Half-crownsdon’tcomehiswayeveryday.Shehailedhimandboughttwomagazines.Onehadapictureofagirlinblueonthecover.“That’llmatchme,”shesaid.Oh,herememberedherperfectly.Well,thatwasenoughforme.Bythedoctor’sevidence,thecrimemusthavebeencommittedbeforeTaunton.Iguessedthey’dthrowtheknifeawayatonce,andIwalkeddownthelinelookingforit;andsureenough,thereitwas.ImadeinquiriesatTauntonaboutourman,butofcourseit’sabigstation,anditwasn’tlikelythey’dnoticehim.HeprobablygotbacktoLondonbyalatertrain.’
Poirotnodded.‘Verylikely.’
‘ButIfoundanotherbitofnewswhenIgotback.They’repassingthejewels,allright!Thatlargeemeraldwaspawnedlastnight—byoneoftheregularlot.Whodoyouthinkitwas?’
‘Idon’tknow—exceptthathewasashortman.’
Jappstared.‘Well,you’rerightthere.He’sshortenough.ItwasRedNarky.’
‘WhoisRedNarky?’Iasked.
‘Aparticularlysharpjewel-thief,sir.Andnotonetostickatmurder.Usuallyworkswithawoman—GracieKidd;butshedoesn’tseemtobeinitthistime—unlessshe’sgotofftoHollandwiththerestoftheswag.’
‘You’vearrestedNarky?’
‘Surething.Butmindyou,it’stheothermanwewant—themanwhowentdownwithMrsCarringtoninthetrain.Hewastheonewhoplannedthejob,rightenough.ButNarkywon’tsquealonapal.’
InoticedPoirot’seyeshadbecomeverygreen.
‘Ithink,’hesaidgently,‘thatIcanfindNarky’spalforyou,allright.’
‘Oneofyourlittleideas,eh?’JappeyedPoirotsharply.‘Wonderfulhowyoumanagetodeliverthegoodssometimes,atyourageandall.Devil’sownluck,ofcourse.’
‘Perhaps,perhaps,’murmuredmyfriend.‘Hastings,myhat.Andthebrush.So!Mygaloshes,ifitstillrains!Wemustnotundothegoodworkofthattisane.Aurevoir,Japp!’
‘Goodlucktoyou,Poirot.’
Poirothailedthefirsttaxiwemet,anddirectedthedrivertoParkLane.
WhenwedrewupbeforeHalliday’shouse,heskippedoutnimbly,paidthedriverandrangthebell.Tothefootmanwhoopenedthedoorhemadearequestinalowvoice,andwewereimmediatelytakenupstairs.Wewentuptothetopofthehouse,andwereshownintoasmallneatbedroom.
Poirot’seyesrovedroundtheroomandfastenedthemselvesonasmallblacktrunk.Hekneltinfrontofit,scrutinizedthelabelsonit,andtookasmalltwistofwirefromhispocket.
‘AskMrHallidayifhewillbesokindastomounttomehere,’hesaidoverhisshouldertothefootman.
Themandeparted,andPoirotgentlycoaxedthelockofthetrunkwithapractisedhand.Inafewminutesthelockgave,andheraisedthelidofthetrunk.Swiftlyhebeganrummagingamongtheclothesitcontained,flingingthemoutonthefloor.
Therewasaheavysteponthestairs,andHallidayenteredtheroom.
‘Whatinhellareyoudoinghere?’hedemanded,staring.
‘Iwaslooking,monsieur,forthis.’Poirotwithdrewfromthetrunkacoatandskirtofbrightbluefrieze,andasmalltoqueofwhitefoxfur.
‘Whatareyoudoingwithmytrunk?’Iturnedtoseethatthemaid,JaneMason,hadenteredtheroom.
‘Ifyouwilljustshutthedoor,Hastings.Thankyou.Yes,andstandwithyourbackagainstit.Now,MrHalliday,letmeintroduceyoutoGracieKidd,otherwiseJaneMason,whowillshortlyrejoinheraccomplice,RedNarky,underthekindescortofInspectorJapp.’
VI
Poirotwavedadeprecatinghand.‘Itwasofthemostsimple!’Hehelpedhimselftomorecaviar.
‘Itwasthemaid’sinsistenceontheclothesthathermistresswaswearingthatfirststruckme.Whywasshesoanxiousthatourattentionshouldbedirectedtothem?Ireflectedthatwehadonlythemaid’swordforthemysteriousmaninthecarriageatBristol.Asfarasthedoctor’sevidencewent,MrsCarringtonmighteasilyhavebeenmurderedbeforereachingBristol.Butifso,thenthemaidmustbeanaccomplice.Andifshewereanaccomplice,shewouldnotwishthispointtorestonherevidencealone.TheclothesMrsCarringtonwaswearingwereofastrikingnature.Amaidusuallyhasagooddealofchoiceastowhathermistressshallwear.Nowif,afterBristol,anyonesawaladyinabrightbluecoatandskirt,andafurtoque,hewillbequitereadytoswearhehadseenMrsCarrington.
‘Ibegantoreconstruct.Themaidwouldprovideherselfwithduplicateclothes.SheandheraccomplicechloroformandstabMrsCarringtonbetweenLondonandBristol,probablytakingadvantageofatunnel.Herbodyisrolledundertheseat;andthemaidtakesherplace.AtWestonshemustmakeherselfnoticed.How?Inallprobability,anewspaper-boywillbeselected.Shewillinsurehisrememberingherbygivinghimalargetip.Shealsodrewhisattentiontothecolourofherdressbyaremarkaboutoneofthemagazines.AfterleavingWeston,shethrowstheknifeoutofthewindowtomarktheplacewherethecrimepresumablyoccurred,andchangesherclothes,orbuttonsalongmackintoshoverthem.AtTauntonsheleavesthetrainandreturnstoBristolassoonaspossible,whereheraccomplicehasdulylefttheluggageinthecloakroom.HehandsovertheticketandhimselfreturnstoLondon.Shewaitsontheplatform,carryingoutherrole,goestoahotelforthenightandreturnstotowninthemorning,exactlyasshesaid.
‘WhenJappreturnedfromhisexpedition,heconfirmedallmydeductions.Healsotoldmethatawell-knowncrookwaspassingthejewels.IknewthatwhoeveritwaswouldbetheexactoppositeofthemanJaneMasondescribed.WhenIheardthatitwasRedNarky,whoalwaysworkedwithGracieKidd—well,Iknewjustwheretofindher.’
‘AndtheCount?’
‘ThemoreIthoughtofit,themoreIwasconvincedthathehadnothingtodowithit.Thatgentlemanismuchtoocarefulofhisownskintoriskmurder.Itwouldbeoutofkeepingwithhischaracter.’
‘Well,MonsieurPoirot,’saidHalliday,‘Ioweyouabigdebt.AndthechequeIwriteafterlunchwon’tgoneartosettlingit.’
Poirotsmiledmodestly,andmurmuredtome:‘ThegoodJapp,heshallgettheofficialcredit,allright,butthoughhehasgothisGracieKidd,IthinkthatI,astheAmericanssay,havegothisgoat!’
TheChocolateBox
Itwasawildnight.Outside,thewindhowledmalevolently,andtherainbeatagainstthewindowsingreatgusts.
PoirotandIsatfacingthehearth,ourlegsstretchedouttothecheerfulblaze.Betweenuswasasmalltable.Onmysideofitstoodsomecarefullybrewedhottoddy;onPoirot’swasacupofthick,richchocolatewhichIwouldnothavedrunkforahundredpounds!Poirotsippedthethickbrownmessinthepinkchinacup,andsighedwithcontentment.
‘Quellebellevie!’hemurmured.
‘Yes,it’sagoodoldworld,’Iagreed.‘HereamIwithajob,andagoodjobtoo!Andhereareyou,famous—’
‘Oh,monami!’protestedPoirot.
‘Butyouare.Andrightlyso!WhenIthinkbackonyourlonglineofsuccesses,Iampositivelyamazed.Idon’tbelieveyouknowwhatfailureis!’
‘Hewouldbeadrollkindoforiginalwhocouldsaythat!’
‘No,butseriously,haveyoueverfailed?’
‘Innumerabletimes,myfriend.Whatwouldyou?Labonnechance,itcannotalwaysbeonyourside.Ihavebeencalledintoolate.Veryoftenanother,workingtowardsthesamegoal,hasarrivedtherefirst.TwicehaveIbeenstrickendownwithillnessjustasIwasonthepointofsuccess.Onemusttakethedownswiththeups,myfriend.’
‘Ididn’tquitemeanthat,’Isaid.‘Imeant,hadyoueverbeencompletelydownandoutoveracasethroughyourownfault?’
‘Ah,Icomprehend!YouaskifIhaveevermadethecompleteprizeassofmyself,asyousayoverhere?Once,myfriend—’Aslow,reflectivesmilehoveredoverhisface.‘Yes,onceImadeafoolofmyself.’
Hesatupsuddenlyinhischair.
‘Seehere,myfriend,youhave,Iknow,keptarecordofmylittlesuccesses.Youshalladdonemorestorytothecollection,thestoryofafailure!’
Heleanedforwardandplacedalogonthefire.Then,aftercarefullywipinghishandsonalittledusterthathungonanailbythefireplace,heleanedbackandcommencedhisstory.
ThatofwhichItellyou(saidM.Poirot)tookplaceinBelgiummanyyearsago.ItwasatthetimeoftheterriblestruggleinFrancebetweenchurchandstate.M.PaulDéroulardwasaFrenchdeputyofnote.ItwasanopensecretthattheportfolioofaMinisterawaitedhim.Hewasamongthebitterestoftheanti-Catholicparty,anditwascertainthatonhisaccessiontopower,hewouldhavetofaceviolentenmity.Hewasinmanywaysapeculiarman.Thoughheneitherdranknorsmoked,hewasneverthelessnotsoscrupulousinotherways.Youcomprehend,Hastings,c’étaitdesfemmes—toujoursdesfemmes!
HehadmarriedsomeyearsearlierayoungladyfromBrusselswhohadbroughthimasubstantialdot.Undoubtedlythemoneywasusefultohiminhiscareer,ashisfamilywasnotrich,thoughontheotherhandhewasentitledtocallhimselfM.leBaronifhechose.Therewerenochildrenofthemarriage,andhiswifediedaftertwoyears—theresultofafalldownstairs.AmongthepropertywhichshebequeathedtohimwasahouseontheAvenueLouiseinBrussels.
Itwasinthishousethathissuddendeathtookplace,theeventcoincidingwiththeresignationoftheMinisterwhoseportfoliohewastoinherit.Allthepapersprintedlongnoticesofhiscareer.Hisdeath,whichhadtakenplacequitesuddenlyintheeveningafterdinner,wasattributedtoheart-failure.
Atthattime,monami,Iwas,asyouknow,amemberoftheBelgiandetectiveforce.ThedeathofM.PaulDéroulardwasnotparticularlyinterestingtome.Iam,asyoualsoknow,boncatholique,andhisdemiseseemedtomefortunate
Itwassomethreedaysafterwards,whenmyvacationhadjustbegun,thatIreceivedavisitoratmyownapartments—alady,heavilyveiled,butevidentlyquiteyoung;andIperceivedatoncethatshewasajeunefilletoutàfaitcommeilfaut
‘YouareMonsieurHerculePoirot?’sheaskedinalowsweetvoice.
Ibowed.
‘Ofthedetectiveservice?’
AgainIbowed.‘Beseated,Iprayofyou,mademoiselle,’Isaid.
Sheacceptedachairanddrewasideherveil.Herfacewascharming,thoughmarredwithtears,andhauntedasthoughwithsomepoignantanxiety.
‘Monsieur,’shesaid,‘Iunderstandthatyouarenowtakingavacation.Thereforeyouwillbefreetotakeupaprivatecase.YouunderstandthatIdonotwishtocallinthepolice.’
Ishookmyhead.‘Ifearwhatyouaskisimpossible,mademoiselle.Eventhoughonvacation,Iamstillofthepolice.’
Sheleanedforward.‘Ecoutez,monsieur.AllthatIaskofyouistoinvestigate.Theresultofyourinvestigationsyouareatperfectlibertytoreporttothepolice.IfwhatIbelievetobetrueistrue,weshallneedallthemachineryofthelaw.’
Thatplacedasomewhatdifferentcomplexiononthematter,andIplacedmyselfatherservicewithoutmoreado.
Aslightcolourroseinhercheeks.‘Ithankyou,monsieur.ItisthedeathofM.PaulDéroulardthatIaskyoutoinvestigate.’
‘Comment?’Iexclaimed,surprised.
‘Monsieur,Ihavenothingtogoupon—nothingbutmywoman’sinstinct,butIamconvinced—convinced,Itellyou—thatM.Déroularddidnotdieanaturaldeath!’
‘Butsurelythedoctors—’
‘Doctorsmaybemistaken.Hewassorobust,sostrong.Ah,MonsieurPoirot,Ibeseechofyoutohelpme—’
Thepoorchildwasalmostbesideherself.Shewouldhaveknelttome.IsoothedherasbestIcould.
‘Iwillhelpyou,mademoiselle.Ifeelalmostsurethatyourfearsareunfounded,butwewillsee.First,Iwillaskyoutodescribetometheinmatesofthehouse.’
‘Therearethedomestics,ofcourse,Jeannette,Félice,andDenisethecook.Shehasbeentheremanyyears;theothersaresimplecountrygirls.AlsothereisFran?ois,buthetooisanoldservant.ThenthereisMonsieurDéroulard’smotherwholivedwithhim,andmyself.MynameisVirginieMesnard.IamapoorcousinofthelateMadameDéroulard,M.Paul’swife,andIhavebeenamemberoftheirménageforoverthreeyears.Ihavenowdescribedtoyouthehousehold.Therewerealsotwoguestsstayinginthehouse.’
‘Andtheywere?’
‘M.deSaintAlard,aneighbourofM.Déroulard’sinFrance.AlsoanEnglishfriend,MrJohnWilson.’
‘Aretheystillwithyou?’
‘MrWilson,yes,butM.deSaintAlarddepartedyesterday.’
‘Andwhatisyourplan,MademoiselleMesnard?’
‘Ifyouwillpresentyourselfatthehouseinhalfanhour’stime,Iwillhavearrangedsomestorytoaccountforyourpresence.Ihadbetterrepresentyoutobeconnectedwithjournalisminsomeway.IshallsayyouhavecomefromParis,andthatyouhavebroughtacardofintroductionfromM.deSaintAlard.MadameDéroulardisveryfeebleinhealth,andwillpaylittleattentiontodetails.’
Onmademoiselle’singeniouspretextIwasadmittedtothehouse,andafterabriefinterviewwiththedeaddeputy’smother,whowasawonderfullyimposingandaristocraticfigurethoughobviouslyinfailinghealth,Iwasmadefreeofthepremises.
Iwonder,myfriend(continuedPoirot),whetheryoucanpossiblyfiguretoyourselfthedifficultiesofmytask?Herewasamanwhosedeathhadtakenplacethreedayspreviously.Iftherehadbeenfoulplay,onlyonepossibilitywasadmittable—poison!AndIhadnochanceofseeingthebody,andtherewasnopossibilityofexamining,oranalysing,anymediuminwhichthepoisoncouldhavebeenadministered.Therewerenoclues,falseorotherwise,toconsider.Hadthemanbeenpoisoned?Hadhediedanaturaldeath?I,HerculePoirot,withnothingtohelpme,hadtodecide.
First,Iinterviewedthedomestics,andwiththeiraid,Irecapitulatedtheevening.Ipaidespecialnoticetothefoodatdinner,andthemethodofservingit.ThesouphadbeenservedbyM.Déroulardhimselffromatureen.Nextadishofcutlets,thenachicken.Finally,acompoteoffruits.Andallplacedonthetable,andservedbyMonsieurhimself.Thecoffeewasbroughtinabigpottothedinner-table.Nothingthere,monami—impossibletopoisononewithoutpoisoningall!
AfterdinnerMadameDéroulardhadretiredtoherownapartmentsandMademoiselleVirginiehadaccompaniedher.ThethreemenhadadjournedtoM.Déroulard’sstudy.Heretheyhadchattedamicablyforsometime,whensuddenly,withoutanywarning,thedeputyhadfallenheavilytotheground.M.deSaintAlardhadrushedoutandtoldFran?oistofetchthedoctorimmediately.Hesaiditwaswithoutdoubtanapoplexy,explainedtheman.Butwhenthedoctorarrived,thepatientwaspasthelp.
MrJohnWilson,towhomIwaspresentedbyMademoiselleVirginie,waswhatwasknowninthosedaysasaregularJohnBullEnglishman,middle-agedandburly.Hisaccount,deliveredinveryBritishFrench,wassubstantiallythesame.
‘Déroulardwentveryredintheface,anddownhefell.’
Therewasnothingfurthertobefoundoutthere.NextIwenttothesceneofthetragedy,thestudy,andwasleftalonethereatmyownrequest.SofartherewasnothingtosupportMademoiselleMesnard’stheory.Icouldnotbutbelievethatitwasadelusiononherpart.Evidentlyshehadentertainedaromanticpassionforthedeadmanwhichhadnotpermittedhertotakeanormalviewofthecase.Nevertheless,Isearchedthestudywithmeticulouscare.Itwasjustpossiblethatahypodermicneedlemighthavebeenintroducedintothedeadman’schairinsuchawayastoallowofafatalinjection.Theminutepunctureitwouldcausewaslikelytoremainunnoticed.ButIcoulddiscovernosigntosupportthetheory.Iflungmyselfdowninthechairwithagestureofdespair.
‘Enfin,Iabandonit!’Isaidaloud.‘Thereisnotaclueanywhere!Everythingisperfectlynormal.’
AsIsaidthewords,myeyesfellonalargeboxofchocolatesstandingonatablenearby,andmyheartgavealeap.ItmightnotbeacluetoM.Déroulard’sdeath,buthereatleastwassomethingthatwasnotnormal.Iliftedthelid.Theboxwasfull,untouched;notachocolatewasmissing—butthatonlymadethepeculiaritythathadcaughtmyeyemorestriking.For,seeyou,Hastings,whiletheboxitselfwaspink,thelidwasblue.Now,oneoftenseesablueribbononapinkbox,andviceversa,butaboxofonecolour,andalidofanother—no,decidedly—?anesevoitjamais!
Ididnotasyetseethatthislittleincidentwasofanyusetome,yetIdeterminedtoinvestigateitasbeingoutoftheordinary.IrangthebellforFran?ois,andaskedhimifhislatemasterhadbeenfondofsweets.Afaintmelancholysmilecametohislips.
‘Passionatelyfondofthem,monsieur.Hewouldalwayshaveaboxofchocolatesinthehouse.Hedidnotdrinkwineofanykind,yousee.’
‘Yetthisboxhasnotbeentouched?’Iliftedthelidtoshowhim.
‘Pardon,monsieur,butthatwasanewboxpurchasedonthedayofhisdeath,theotherbeingnearlyfinished.’
‘Thentheotherboxwasfinishedonthedayofhisdeath,’Isaidslowly.
‘Yes,monsieur,Ifounditemptyinthemorningandthrewitaway.’
‘DidM.Déroulardeatsweetsatallhoursoftheday?’
‘Usuallyafterdinner,monsieur.’
Ibegantoseelight.
‘Fran?ois,’Isaid,‘youcanbediscreet?’
‘Ifthereisneed,monsieur.’
‘Bon!Know,then,thatIamofthepolice.Canyoufindmethatotherbox?’
‘Withoutdoubt,monsieur.Itwillbeinthedustbin.’
Hedeparted,andreturnedinafewminuteswithadust-coveredobject.ItwastheduplicateoftheboxIheld,saveforthefactthatthistimetheboxwasblueandthelidwaspink.IthankedFran?ois,recommendedhimoncemoretobediscreet,andleftthehouseintheAvenueLouisewithoutmoreado.
NextIcalleduponthedoctorwhohadattendedM.Déroulard.WithhimIhadadifficulttask.Heentrenchedhimselfprettilybehindawalloflearnedphraseology,butIfanciedthathewasnotquiteassureaboutthecaseashewouldliketobe.
‘Therehavebeenmanycuriousoccurrencesofthekind,’heobserved,whenIhadmanagedtodisarmhimsomewhat.‘Asuddenfitofanger,aviolentemotion—afteraheavydinner,c’estentendu—then,withanaccessofrage,thebloodfliestothehead,andpst!—thereyouare!’
‘ButM.Déroulardhadhadnoviolentemotion.’
‘No?ImadesurethathehadbeenhavingastormyaltercationwithM.deSaintAlard.’
‘Whyshouldhe?’
‘C’estévident!’Thedoctorshruggedhisshoulders.‘WasnotM.deSaintAlardaCatholicofthemostfanatical?Theirfriendshipwasbeingruinedbythisquestionofchurchandstate.Notadaypassedwithoutdiscussions.ToM.deSaintAlard,DéroulardappearedalmostasAntichrist.’
Thiswasunexpected,andgavemefoodforthought.
‘Onemorequestion,Doctor:woulditbepossibletointroduceafataldoseofpoisonintoachocolate?’
‘Itwouldbepossible,Isuppose,’saidthedoctorslowly.‘Pureprussicacidwouldmeetthecaseiftherewerenochanceofevaporation,andatinyglobuleofanythingmightbeswallowedunnoticed—butitdoesnotseemaverylikelysupposition.Achocolatefullofmorphineorstrychnine—’Hemadeawryface.‘Youcomprehend,M.Poirot—onebitewouldbeenough!Theunwaryonewouldnotstanduponceremony.’
‘Thankyou,M.leDocteur.’
Iwithdrew.NextImadeinquiriesofthechemists,especiallythoseintheneighbourhoodoftheAvenueLouise.Itisgoodtobeofthepolice.IgottheinformationIwantedwithoutanytrouble.OnlyinonecasecouldIhearofanypoisonhavingbeensuppliedtothehouseinquestion.ThiswassomeeyedropsofatropinesulphateforMadameDéroulard.Atropineisapotentpoison,andforthemomentIwaselated,butthesymptomsofatropinepoisoningarecloselyalliedtothoseofptomaine,andbearnoresemblancetothoseIwasstudying.Besides,theprescriptionwasanoldone.MadameDéroulardhadsufferedfromcataractsinbotheyesformanyyears.
Iwasturningawaydiscouragedwhenthechemist’svoicecalledmeback.
‘Unmoment,M.Poirot.Iremember,thegirlwhobroughtthatprescription,shesaidsomethingabouthavingtogoontotheEnglishchemist.Youmighttrythere.’
Idid.Oncemoreenforcingmyofficialstatus,IgottheinformationIwanted.OnthedaybeforeM.Déroulard’sdeaththeyhadmadeupaprescriptionforMrJohnWilson.Notthattherewasanymakingupaboutit.Theyweresimplylittletabletsoftrinitrine.IaskedifImightseesome.Heshowedmethem,andmyheartbeatfaster—forthetinytabletswereofchocolate
‘Isitapoison?’Iasked.
‘No,monsieur.’
‘Canyoudescribetomeitseffect?’
‘Itlowerstheblood-pressure.Itisgivenforsomeformsofhearttrouble—anginapectorisforinstance.Itrelievesthearterialtension.Inarteriosclerosis—’
Iinterruptedhim.‘Mafoi!Thisrigmarolesaysnothingtome.Doesitcausethefacetoflush?’
‘Certainlyitdoes.’
‘AndsupposingIateten—twentyofyourlittletablets,whatthen?’
‘Ishouldnotadviseyoutoattemptit,’hereplieddrily.
‘Andyetyousayitisnotpoison?’
‘Therearemanythingsnotcalledpoisonwhichcankillaman,’herepliedasbefore.
Ilefttheshopelated.Atlast,thingshadbeguntomarch!
InowknewthatJohnWilsonhadthemeansforthecrime—butwhataboutthemotive?HehadcometoBelgiumonbusiness,andhadaskedM.Déroulard,whomheknewslightly,toputhimup.TherewasapparentlynowayinwhichDéroulard’sdeathcouldbenefithim.Moreover,IdiscoveredbyinquiriesinEnglandthathehadsufferedforsomeyearsfromthatpainfulformofheartdiseaseknownasangina.Thereforehehadagenuinerighttohavethosetabletsinhispossession.Nevertheless,Iwasconvincedthatsomeonehadgonetothechocolatebox,openingthefullonefirstbymistake,andhadabstractedthecontentsofthelastchocolate,crammingininsteadasmanylittletrinitrinetabletsasitwouldhold.Thechocolateswerelargeones.Betweentwentyorthirtytablets,Ifeltsure,couldhavebeeninserted.Butwhohaddonethis?
Thereweretwoguestsinthehouse.JohnWilsonhadthemeans.SaintAlardhadthemotive.Remember,hewasafanatic,andthereisnofanaticlikeareligiousfanatic.Couldhe,byanymeans,havegotholdofJohnWilson’strinitrine?
Anotherlittleideacametome.Ah,yousmileatmylittleideas!WhyhadWilsonrunoutoftrinitrine?SurelyhewouldbringanadequatesupplyfromEngland.IcalledoncemoreatthehouseintheAvenueLouise.Wilsonwasout,butIsawthegirlwhodidhisroom,Félice.IdemandedofherimmediatelywhetheritwasnottruethatM.Wilsonhadlostabottlefromhiswashstandsomelittletimeago.Thegirlrespondedeagerly.Itwasquitetrue.She,Félice,hadbeenblamedforit.TheEnglishgentlemanhadevidentlythoughtthatshehadbrokenit,anddidnotliketosayso.Whereasshehadnevereventouchedit.WithoutdoubtitwasJeannette—alwaysnosingroundwhereshehadnobusinesstobe—
Icalmedtheflowofwords,andtookmyleave.IknewnowallthatIwantedtoknow.Itremainedformetoprovemycase.That,Ifelt,wouldnotbeeasy.ImightbesurethatSaintAlardhadremovedthebottleoftrinitrinefromJohnWilson’swashstand,buttoconvinceothers,Iwouldhavetoproduceevidence.AndIhadnonetoproduce!
Nevermind.Iknew—thatwasthegreatthing.YourememberourdifficultyintheStylescase,Hastings?Thereagain,Iknew—butittookmealongtimetofindthelastlinkwhichmademychainofevidenceagainstthemurderercomplete.
IaskedforaninterviewwithMademoiselleMesnard.Shecameatonce.IdemandedofhertheaddressofM.deSaintAlard.Alookoftroublecameoverherface.
‘Whydoyouwantit,monsieur?’
‘Mademoiselle,itisnecessary.’
Sheseemeddoubtful—troubled.
‘Hecantellyounothing.Heisamanwhosethoughtsarenotinthisworld.Hehardlynoticeswhatgoesonaroundhim.’
‘Possibly,mademoiselle.Nevertheless,hewasanoldfriendofM.Déroulard’s.Theremaybethingshecantellme—thingsofthepast—oldgrudges—oldlove-affairs.’
Thegirlflushedandbitherlip.‘Asyouplease—but—butIfeelsurenowthatIhavebeenmistaken.Itwasgoodofyoutoaccedetomydemand,butIwasupset—almostdistraughtatthetime.Iseenowthatthereisnomysterytosolve.Leaveit,Ibegofyou,monsieur.’
Ieyedherclosely.
‘Mademoiselle,’Isaid,‘itissometimesdifficultforadogtofindascent,butoncehehasfoundit,nothingonearthwillmakehimleaveit!Thatisifheisagooddog!AndI,mademoiselle,I,HerculePoirot,amaverygooddog.’
Withoutawordsheturnedaway.Afewminuteslatershereturnedwiththeaddresswrittenonasheetofpaper.Ileftthehouse.Fran?oiswaswaitingformeoutside.Helookedatmeanxiously.
‘Thereisnonews,monsieur?’
‘Noneasyet,myfriend.’
‘Ah!PauvreMonsieurDéroulard!’hesighed.‘Itoowasofhiswayofthinking.Idonotcareforpriests.NotthatIwouldsaysointhehouse.Thewomenarealldevout—agoodthingperhaps.Madameesttrèspieuse—etMademoiselleVirginieaussi.’
MademoiselleVirginie?Wasshe‘trèspieuse?’Thinkingofthetear-stainedpassionatefaceIhadseenthatfirstday,Iwondered.
HavingobtainedtheaddressofM.deSaintAlard,Iwastednotime.IarrivedintheneighbourhoodofhischateauintheArdennesbutitwassomedaysbeforeIcouldfindapretextforgainingadmissiontothehouse.IntheendIdid—howdoyouthink—asaplumber,monami!Itwastheaffairofamomenttoarrangeaneatlittlegasleakinhisbedroom.Idepartedformytools,andtookcaretoreturnwiththematanhourwhenIknewIshouldhavethefieldprettywelltomyself.WhatIwassearchingfor,Ihardlyknew.Theonethingneedful,Icouldnotbelievetherewasanychanceoffinding.Hewouldneverhaveruntheriskofkeepingit.
StillwhenIfoundthelittlecupboardabovethewashstandlocked,Icouldnotresistthetemptationofseeingwhatwasinsideit.Thelockwasquiteasimpleonetopick.Thedoorswungopen.Itwasfullofoldbottles.Itookthemuponebyonewithatremblinghand.Suddenly,Iutteredacry.Figuretoyourself,myfriend,IheldinmyhandalittlephialwithanEnglishchemist’slabel.Onitwerethewords:‘TrinitrineTablets.Onetobetakenwhenrequired.MrJohnWilson.’
Icontrolledmyemotion,closedthecupboard,slippedthebottleintomypocket,andcontinuedtorepairthegasleak!Onemustbemethodical.ThenIleftthechateau,andtooktrainformyowncountryassoonaspossible.IarrivedinBrusselslatethatnight.Iwaswritingoutareportforthepréfetinthemorning,whenanotewasbroughttome.ItwasfromoldMadameDéroulard,anditsummonedmetothehouseintheAvenueLouisewithoutdelay.
Fran?oisopenedthedoortome.
‘MadamelaBaronneisawaitingyou.’
Heconductedmetoherapartments.Shesatinstateinalargearmchair.TherewasnosignofMademoiselleVirginie.
‘M.Poirot,’saidtheoldlady,‘Ihavejustlearnedthatyouarenotwhatyoupretendtobe.Youareapoliceofficer.’
‘Thatisso,madame.’
‘Youcameheretoinquireintothecircumstancesofmyson’sdeath?’
AgainIreplied:‘Thatisso,madame.’
‘Ishouldbegladifyouwouldtellmewhatprogressyouhavemade.’
Ihesitated.
‘FirstIwouldliketoknowhowyouhavelearnedallthis,madame.’
‘Fromonewhoisnolongerofthisworld.’
Herwords,andthebroodingwaysheutteredthem,sentachilltomyheart.Iwasincapableofspeech.
‘Therefore,monsieur,Iwouldbegofyoumosturgentlytotellmeexactlywhatprogressyouhavemadeinyourinvestigation.’
‘Madame,myinvestigationisfinished.’
‘Myson?’
‘Waskilleddeliberately.’
‘Youknowbywhom?’
‘Yes,madame.’
‘Who,then?’
‘M.deSaintAlard.’
‘Youarewrong.M.deSaintAlardisincapableofsuchacrime.’
‘Theproofsareinmyhands.’
‘Ibegofyouoncemoretotellmeall.’
ThistimeIobeyed,goingovereachstepthathadledmetothediscoveryofthetruth.Shelistenedattentively.Attheendshenoddedherhead.
‘Yes,yes,itisallasyousay,allbutonething.ItwasnotM.deSaintAlardwhokilledmyson.ItwasI,hismother.’
Istaredather.Shecontinuedtonodherheadgently.
‘ItiswellthatIsentforyou.ItistheprovidenceofthegoodGodthatVirginietoldmebeforeshedepartedfortheconvent,whatshehaddone.Listen,M.Poirot!Mysonwasanevilman.Hepersecutedthechurch.Heledalifeofmortalsin.Hedraggeddowntheothersoulsbesidehisown.Buttherewasworsethanthat.AsIcameoutofmyroominthishouseonemorning,Isawmydaughter-in-lawstandingattheheadofthestairs.Shewasreadingaletter.Isawmysonstealupbehindher.Oneswiftpush,andshefell,strikingherheadonthemarblesteps.Whentheypickedherupshewasdead.Mysonwasamurderer,andonlyI,hismother,knewit.’
Sheclosedhereyesforamoment.‘Youcannotconceive,monsieur,ofmyagony,mydespair.WhatwasItodo?Denouncehimtothepolice?Icouldnotbringmyselftodoit.Itwasmyduty,butmyfleshwasweak.Besides,wouldtheybelieveme?Myeyesighthadbeenfailingforsometime—theywouldsayIwasmistaken.Ikeptsilence.Butmyconsciencegavemenopeace.BykeepingsilenceItoowasamurderer.Mysoninheritedhiswife’smoney.Heflourishedasthegreenbaytree.AndnowhewastohaveaMinister’sportfolio.Hispersecutionofthechurchwouldberedoubled.AndtherewasVirginie.She,poorchild,beautiful,naturallypious,wasfascinatedbyhim.Hehadastrangeandterriblepoweroverwomen.Isawitcoming.Iwaspowerlesstopreventit.Hehadnointentionofmarryingher.Thetimecamewhenshewasreadytoyieldeverythingtohim.
‘ThenIsawmypathclear.Hewasmyson.Ihadgivenhimlife.Iwasresponsibleforhim.Hehadkilledonewoman’sbody,nowhewouldkillanother’ssoul!IwenttoMrWilson’sroom,andtookthebottleoftablets.Hehadoncesaidlaughinglythattherewereenoughinittokillaman!Iwentintothestudyandopenedthebigboxofchocolatesthatalwaysstoodonthetable.Iopenedanewboxbymistake.Theotherwasonthetablealso.Therewasjustonechocolateleftinit.Thatsimplifiedthings.NooneatechocolatesexceptmysonandVirginie.Iwouldkeepherwithmethatnight.AllwentasIhadplanned—’
Shepaused,closinghereyesaminutethenopenedthemagain.
‘M.Poirot,Iaminyourhands.TheytellmeIhavenotmanydaystolive.IamwillingtoanswerformyactionbeforethegoodGod.MustIanswerforitonearthalso?’
Ihesitated.‘Buttheemptybottle,madame,’Isaidtogaintime.‘HowcamethatintoM.deSaintAlard’spossession?’
‘Whenhecametosaygoodbyetome,monsieur,Islippeditintohispocket.Ididnotknowhowtogetridofit.IamsoinfirmthatIcannotmoveaboutmuchwithouthelp,andfindingitemptyinmyroomsmighthavecausedsuspicion.Youunderstand,monsieur—’shedrewherselfuptoherfullheight—‘itwaswithnoideaofcastingsuspiciononM.deSaintAlard!Ineverdreamedofsuchathing.Ithoughthisvaletwouldfindanemptybottleandthrowitawaywithoutquestion.’
Ibowedmyhead.‘Icomprehend,madame,’Isaid.
‘Andyourdecision,monsieur?’
Hervoicewasfirmandunfaltering,herheadheldashighasever.
Irosetomyfeet.
‘Madame,’Isaid,‘Ihavethehonourtowishyougoodday.Ihavemademyinvestigations—andfailed!Thematterisclosed.’
Hewassilentforamoment,thensaidquietly:‘Shediedjustaweeklater.MademoiselleVirginiepassedthroughhernovitiate,anddulytooktheveil.That,myfriend,isthestory.ImustadmitthatIdonotmakeafinefigureinit.’
‘Butthatwashardlyafailure,’Iexpostulated.‘Whatelsecouldyouhavethoughtunderthecircumstances?’
‘Ah,sacré,monami,’criedPoirot,becomingsuddenlyanimated.‘Isitthatyoudonotsee?ButIwasthirty-sixtimesanidiot!Mygreycells,theyfunctionednotatall.ThewholetimeIhadtheclueinmyhands.’
‘Whatclue?’
‘Thechocolatebox!Doyounotsee?Wouldanyoneinpossessionoftheirfulleyesightmakesuchamistake?IknewMadameDéroulardhadcataracts—theatropinedropstoldmethat.Therewasonlyonepersoninthehouseholdwhoseeyesightwassuchthatshecouldnotseewhichlidtoreplace.Itwasthechocolateboxthatstartedmeonthetrack,andyetuptotheendIfailedconsistentlytoperceiveitsrealsignificance!
‘Alsomypsychologywasatfault.HadM.deSaintAlardbeenthecriminal,hewouldneverhavekeptanincriminatingbottle.Findingitwasaproofofhisinnocence.IhadlearnedalreadyfromMademoiselleVirginiethathewasabsent-minded.AltogetheritwasamiserableaffairthatIhaverecountedtoyouthere!OnlytoyouhaveItoldthestory.Youcomprehend,Idonotfigurewellinit!AnoldladycommitsacrimeinsuchasimpleandcleverfashionthatI,HerculePoirot,amcompletelydeceived.Sapristi!Itdoesnotbearthinkingof!Forgetit.Orno—rememberit,andifyouthinkatanytimethatIamgrowingconceited—itisnotlikely,butitmightarise.’
Iconcealedasmile.
‘Ehbien,myfriend,youshallsaytome,“Chocolatebox”.Isitagreed?’
‘It’sabargain!’
‘Afterall,’saidPoirotreflectively,‘itwasanexperience!I,whohaveundoubtedlythefinestbraininEuropeatpresent,canaffordtobemagnanimous!’
‘Chocolatebox,’Imurmuredgently.
‘Pardon,monami?’
IlookedatPoirot’sinnocentface,ashebentforwardinquiringly,andmyheartsmoteme.Ihadsufferedoftenathishands,butI,too,thoughnotpossessingthefinestbraininEurope,couldaffordtobemagnanimous!
‘Nothing,’Ilied,andlitanotherpipe,smilingtomyself.
TheSubmarinePlans
I
Anotehadbeenbroughtbyspecialmessenger.Poirotreadit,andagleamofexcitementandinterestcameintohiseyesashedidso.Hedismissedthemanwithafewcurtwordsandthenturnedtome.
‘Packabagwithallhaste,myfriend.We’regoingdowntoSharples.’
IstartedatthementionofthefamouscountryplaceofLordAlloway.HeadofthenewlyformedMinistryofDefence,LordAllowaywasaprominentmemberoftheCabinet.AsSirRalphCurtis,headofagreatengineeringfirm,hehadmadehismarkintheHouseofCommons,andhewasnowfreelyspokenofasthecomingman,andtheonemostlikelytobeaskedtoformaministryshouldtherumoursastoMrDavidMacAdam’shealthprovewellfounded.
AbigRolls-Roycecarwaswaitingforusbelow,andasweglidedoffintothedarkness,IpliedPoirotwithquestions
‘Whatonearthcantheywantusforatthistimeofnight?’Idemanded.Itwaspasteleven.
Poirotshookhishead.‘Somethingofthemosturgent,withoutdoubt.’
‘Iremember,’Isaid,‘thatsomeyearsagotherewassomeratheruglyscandalaboutRalphCurtis,ashethenwas—somejugglerywithshares,Ibelieve.Intheend,hewascompletelyexonerated;butperhapssomethingofthekindhasarisenagain?’
‘Itwouldhardlybenecessaryforhimtosendformeinthemiddleofthenight,myfriend.’
Iwasforcedtoagree,andtheremainderofthejourneywaspassedinsilence.OnceoutofLondon,thepowerfulcarforgedrapidlyahead,andwearrivedatSharplesinalittleunderthehour.
ApontificalbutlerconductedusatoncetoasmallstudywhereLordAllowaywasawaitingus.Hespranguptogreetus—atall,sparemanwhoseemedactuallytoradiatepowerandvitality.
‘M.Poirot,Iamdelightedtoseeyou.Itisthesecondtimethegovernmenthasdemandedyourservices.Irememberonlytoowellwhatyoudidforusduringthewar,whenthePrimeMinisterwaskidnappedinthatastoundingfashion.Yourmasterlydeductions—andmayIadd,yourdiscretion?—savedthesituation.’
Poirot’seyestwinkledalittle.
‘DoIgatherthen,milor’,thatthisisanothercasefor—discretion?’
‘Mostemphatically.SirHarryandI—oh,letmeintoduceyou—AdmiralSirHarryWeardale,ourFirstSeaLord—M.Poirotand—letmesee,Captain—’
‘Hastings,’Isupplied.
‘I’veoftenheardofyou,M.Poirot,’saidSirHarry,shakinghands.‘Thisisamostunaccountablebusiness,andifyoucansolveit,we’llbeextremelygratefultoyou.’
IlikedtheFirstSeaLordimmediately,asquare,bluffsailorofthegoodold-fashionedtype.
Poirotlookedinquiringlyatthemboth,andAllowaytookupthetale.
‘Ofcourse,youunderstandthatallthisisinconfidence,M.Poirot.Wehavehadamostseriousloss.TheplansofthenewZtypeofsubmarinehavebeenstolen.’
‘Whenwasthat?’
‘Tonight—lessthanthreehoursago.Youcanappreciateperhaps,M.Poirot,themagnitudeofthedisaster.Itisessentialthatthelossshouldnotbemadepublic.Iwillgiveyouthefactsasbrieflyaspossible.Myguestsovertheweek-endweretheAdmiral,here,hiswifeandson,andMrsConrad,aladywellknowninLondonsociety.Theladiesretiredtobedearly—aboutteno’clock;sodidMrLeonardWeardale.SirHarryisdownherepartlyforthepurposeofdiscussingtheconstructionofthisnewtypeofsubmarinewithme.Accordingly,IaskedMrFitzroy,mysecretary,togetouttheplansfromthesafeinthecornerthere,andtoarrangethemreadyforme,aswellasvariousotherdocumentsthatboreuponthesubjectinhand.Whilehewasdoingthis,theAdmiralandIstrolledupanddowntheterrace,smokingcigarsandenjoyingthewarmJuneair.Wefinishedoursmokeandourchat,anddecidedtogetdowntobusiness.Justasweturnedatthefarendoftheterrace,IfanciedIsawashadowslipoutofthefrenchwindowhere,
‘“Goteverythingoutwearelikelytoneed,Fitzroy?”Iasked.
‘“Ithinkso,LordAlloway.Thepapersareallonyourdesk,”heanswered.Andthenhewishedusbothgoodnight.
‘“Justwaitaminute,”Isaid,goingtothedesk.“ImaywantsomethingIhaven’tmentioned.”
‘Ilookedquicklythroughthepapersthatwerelyingthere.
‘“You’veforgottenthemostimportantofthelot,Fitzroy,”Isaid.“Theactualplansofthesubmarine!”
‘“Theplansarerightontop,LordAlloway.”
‘“Ohno,they’renot,”Isaid,turningoverthepapers.
‘“ButIputthemtherenotaminuteago!”
‘“Well,they’renotherenow,”Isaid.
‘Fitzroyadvancedwithabewilderedexpressiononhisface.Thethingseemedincredible.Weturnedoverthepapersonthedesk;wehuntedthroughthesafe;butatlastwehadtomakeupourmindstoitthatthepapersweregone—andgonewithintheshortspaceofaboutthreeminuteswhileFitzroywasabsentfromtheroom.’
‘Whydidheleavetheroom?’askedPoirotquickly.
‘JustwhatIaskedhim,’exclaimedSirHarry.
‘Itappears,’saidLordAlloway,‘thatjustwhenhehadfinishedarrangingthepapersonmydesk,hewasstartledbyhearingawomanscream.Hedashedoutintothehall.OnthestairshediscoveredMrsConrad’sFrenchmaid.Thegirllookedverywhiteandupset,anddeclaredthatshehadseenaghost—atallfiguredressedallinwhitethatmovedwithoutasound.Fitzroylaughedatherfearsandtoldher,inmoreorlesspolitelanguage,nottobeafool.Thenhereturnedtothisroomjustasweenteredfromthewindow.’
‘Itallseemsveryclear,’saidPoirotthoughtfully.‘Theonlyquestionis,wasthemaidanaccomplice?Didshescreambyarrangementwithherconfederatelurkingoutside,orwashemerelywaitingthereinthehopeofanopportunitypresentingitself?Itwasaman,Isuppose—notawomanyousaw?’
‘Ican’ttellyou,M.Poirot.Itwasjusta—shadow.’
Theadmiralgavesuchapeculiarsnortthatitcouldnotfailtoattractattention.
‘M.l’Amiralhassomethingtosay,Ithink,’saidPoirotquietly,withaslightsmile.‘Yousawthisshadow,SirHarry?’
‘No,Ididn’t,’returnedtheother.‘AndneitherdidAlloway.Thebranchofatreeflapped,orsomething,andthenafterwards,whenwediscoveredthetheft,heleapedtotheconclusionthathehadseensomeonepassacrosstheterrace.Hisimaginationplayedatrickonhim;that’sall.’
‘Iamnotusuallycreditedwithhavingmuchimagination,’saidLordAllowaywithaslightsmile.
‘Nonsense,we’veallgotimagination.Wecanallworkourselvesuptobelievethatwe’veseenmorethanwehave.I’vehadalifetimeofexperienceatsea,andI’llbackmyeyesagainstthoseofanylandsman.Iwaslookingrightdowntheterrace,andI’dhaveseenthesameiftherewasanythingtosee.’
Hewasquiteexcitedoverthematter.Poirotroseandsteppedquicklytothewindow.
‘Youpermit?’heasked.‘Wemustsettlethispointifpossible.’
Hewentoutupontheterrace,andwefollowedhim.Hehadtakenanelectrictorchfromhispocket,andwasplayingthelightalongtheedgeofthegrassthatborderedtheterrace.
‘Wheredidhecrosstheterrace,milor’?’heasked.
‘Aboutoppositethewindow,Ishouldsay.’
Poirotcontinuedtoplaythetorchforsomeminuteslonger,walkingtheentirelengthoftheterraceandback.Thenheshutitoffandstraightenedhimselfup.
‘SirHarryisright—andyouarewrong,milor’,hesaidquietly.‘Itrainedheavilyearlierthisevening.Anyonewhopassedoverthatgrasscouldnotavoidleavingfootmarks.Buttherearenone—noneatall.’
Hiseyeswentfromoneman’sfacetotheother’s.LordAllowaylookedbewilderedandunconvinced;theAdmiralexpressedanoisygratification.
‘KnewIcouldn’tbewrong,’hedeclared.‘Trustmyeyesanywhere.’
Hewassuchapictureofanhonestoldsea-dogthatIcouldnothelpsmiling.
‘Sothatbringsustothepeopleinthehouse,’saidPoirotsmoothly.‘Letuscomeinsideagain.Now,milor’,whileMrFitzroywasspeakingtothemaidonthestairs,couldanyonehaveseizedtheopportunitytoenterthestudyfromthehall?’
LordAllowayshookhishead.
‘Quiteimpossible—theywouldhavehadtopasshiminordertodoso.’
‘AndMrFitzroyhimself—youaresureofhim,eh?’
LordAllowayflushed.
‘Absolutely,M.Poirot.Iwillanswerconfidentlyformysecretary.Itisquiteimpossiblethatheshouldbeconcernedinthematterinanyway.’
‘Everythingseemstobeimpossible,’remarkedPoirotratherdrily.‘Possiblytheplansattachedtothemselvesalittlepairofwings,andflewaway—comme?a!’Heblewhislipsoutlikeacomicalcherub.
‘Thewholethingisimpossible,’declaredLordAllowayimpatiently.‘ButIbeg,M.Poirot,thatyouwillnotdreamofsuspectingFitzroy.Considerforonemoment—hadhewishedtotaketheplans,whatcouldhavebeeneasierforhimthantotakeatracingofthemwithoutgoingtothetroubleofstealingthem?’
‘There,milor’,’saidPoirotwithapproval,‘youmakearemarkbienjuste—Iseethatyouhaveamindorderlyandmethodical.L’Angleterreishappyinpossessingyou.’
LordAllowaylookedratherembarrassedbythissuddenburstofpraise.Poirotreturnedtothematterinhand.
‘Theroominwhichyouhadbeensittingalltheevening—’
‘Thedrawing-room?Yes?’
‘Thatalsohasawindowontheterrace,sinceIrememberyoursayingyouwentoutthatway.Woulditnotbepossibleforsomeonetocomeoutbythedrawing-roomwindowandinbythisonewhileMrFitzroywasoutoftheroom,andreturnthesameway?’
‘Butwe’dhaveseenthem,’objectedtheAdmiral.
‘Notifyouhadyourbacksturned,walkingtheotherway.’
‘Fitzroywasonlyoutoftheroomafewminutes,thetimeitwouldtakeustowalktotheendandback.’
‘Nomatter—itisapossibility—infact,theonlyoneasthingsstand.’
‘Buttherewasnooneinthedrawing-roomwhenwewentout,’saidtheAdmiral.
‘Theymayhavecomethereafterwards.’
‘Youmean,’saidLordAllowayslowly,‘thatwhenFitzroyheardthemaidscreamandwentout,someonewasalreadyconcealedinthedrawing-room,andthattheydartedinandoutthroughthewindows,andonlyleftthedrawing-roomwhenFitzroyhadreturnedtothisroom?’
‘Themethodicalmindagain,’saidPoirot,bowing.
‘Youexpressthematterperfectly.’
‘Oneoftheservants,perhaps?’
‘Oraguest.ItwasMrsConrad’smaidwhoscreamed.WhatexactlycanyoutellmeofMrsConrad?’
LordAllowayconsideredforaminute.
‘Itoldyouthatsheisaladywellknowninsociety.Thatistrueinthesensethatshegiveslargeparties,andgoeseverywhere.Butverylittleisknownastowhereshereallycomesfrom,andwhatherpastlifehasbeen.SheisaladywhofrequentsdiplomaticandForeignOfficecirclesasmuchaspossible.TheSecretServiceisinclinedtoask—why?’
‘Isee,’saidPoirot.‘Andshewasaskedherethisweek-end—’
‘Sothat—shallwesay?—wemightobserveheratclosequarters.’
‘Parfaitement!Itispossiblethatshehasturnedthetablesonyouratherneatly.’
LordAllowaylookeddiscomfited,andPoirotcontinued:‘Tellme,milor’,wasanyreferencemadeinherhearingtothesubjectsyouandtheAdmiralweregoingtodiscusstogether?’
‘Yes,’admittedtheother.‘SirHarrysaid:“Andnowforoursubmarine!Towork!”orsomethingofthatsort.Theothershadlefttheroom,butshehadcomebackforabook.’
‘Isee,’saidPoirotthoughtfully.‘Milor’,itisverylate—butthisisanurgentaffair.Iwouldliketoquestionthemembersofthishouse-partyatonceifitispossible.’
‘Itcanbemanaged,ofcourse,’saidLordAlloway.‘Theawkwardthingis,wedon’twanttoletitgetaboutmorethancanbehelped.Ofcourse,LadyJulietWeardaleandyoungLeonardareallright—butMrsConrad,ifsheisnotguilty,isratheradifferentproposition.Perhapsyoucouldjuststatethatanimportantpaperismissing,withoutspecifyingwhatitis,orgoingintoanyofthecircumstancesofthedisappearance?’
‘ExactlywhatIwasabouttoproposemyself,’saidPoirot,beaming.‘Infact,inallthreecases.MonsieurtheAdmiralwillpardonme,buteventhebestofwives—’
‘Nooffence,’saidSirHarry.‘Allwomentalk,bless’em!IwishJulietwouldtalkalittlemoreandplaybridgealittleless.Butwomenarelikethatnowadays,neverhappyunlessthey’redancingorgambling.I’llgetJulietandLeonardup,shallI,Alloway?’
‘Thankyou.I’llcalltheFrenchmaid.M.Poirotwillwanttoseeher,andshecanrousehermistress.I’llattendtoitnow.Inthemeantime,I’llsendFitzroyalong.’
II
MrFitzroywasapale,thinyoungmanwithpince-nezandafrigidexpression.HisstatementwaspracticallywordforwordwhatLordAllowayhadalreadytoldus.
‘Whatisyourowntheory,MrFitzroy?’
MrFitzroyshruggedhisshoulders.
‘Undoubtedlysomeonewhoknewthehangofthingswaswaitinghischanceoutside.Hecouldseewhatwentonthroughthewindow,andheslippedinwhenIlefttheroom.It’sapityLordAllowaydidn’tgivechasethenandtherewhenhesawthefellowleave.’
Poirotdidnotundeceivehim.Insteadheasked:‘DoyoubelievethestoryoftheFrenchmaid—thatshehadseenaghost?’
‘Well,hardly,M.Poirot!’
‘Imean—thatshereallythoughtso?’
‘Oh,astothat,Ican’tsay.Shecertainlyseemedratherupset.Shehadherhandstoherhead.’
‘Aha!’criedPoirotwiththeairofonewhohasmadeadiscovery.‘Isthatsoindeed—andshewaswithoutdoubtaprettygirl?’
‘Ididn’tnoticeparticularly,’saidMrFitzroyinarepressivevoice.
‘Youdidnotseehermistress,Isuppose?’
‘Asamatteroffact,Idid.Shewasinthegalleryatthetopofthestepsandwascallingher—“Léonie!”Thenshesawme—andofcourseretired.’
‘Upstairs,’saidPoirot,frowning.
‘Ofcourse,Irealizethatallthisisveryunpleasantforme—orratherwouldhavebeen,ifLordAllowayhadnotchancedtoseethemanactuallyleaving.Inanycase,Ishouldbegladifyouwouldmakeapointofsearchingmyroom—andmyself.’
‘Youreallywishthat?’
‘CertainlyIdo.’
WhatPoirotwouldhaverepliedIdonotknow,butatthatmomentLordAllowayreappearedandinformedusthatthetwoladiesandMrLeonardWeardalewereinthedrawing-room.
Thewomenwereinbecomingnegligees.MrsConradwasabeautifulwomanofthirty-five,withgoldenhairandaslighttendencytoembonpoint.LadyJulietWeardalemusthavebeenforty,tallanddark,verythin,stillbeautiful,withexquisitehandsandfeet,andarestless,haggardmanner.Hersonwasratheraneffeminate-lookingyoungman,asgreatacontrasttohisbluff,heartyfatherascouldwellbeimagined.
Poirotgaveforththelittlerigmarolewehadagreedupon,andthenexplainedthathewasanxioustoknowifanyonehadheardorseenanythingthatnightwhichmightassistus.
TurningtoMrsConradfirst,heaskedherifshewouldbesokindastoinformhimexactlywhathermovementshadbeen.
‘Letmesee…Iwentupstairs.Irangformymaid.Then,asshedidnotputinanappearance,Icameoutandcalledher.Icouldhearhertalkingonthestairs.Aftershehadbrushedmyhair,Isentheraway—shewasinaverycuriousnervousstate.Ireadawhileandthenwenttobed.’
‘Andyou,LadyJuliet?’
‘Iwentstraightupstairsandtobed.Iwasverytired.’
‘Whataboutyourbook,dear?’askedMrsConradwithasweetsmile.
‘Mybook?’LadyJulietflushed.
‘Yes,youknow,whenIsentLéonieaway,youwerecomingupthestairs.Youhadbeendowntothedrawing-roomforabook,yousaid.’
‘Ohyes,Ididgodown.I—Iforgot.’
LadyJulietclaspedherhandsnervouslytogether.
‘DidyouhearMrsConrad’smaidscream,milady?’
‘No—no,Ididn’t.’
‘Howcurious—becauseyoumusthavebeeninthedrawing-roomatthetime.’
‘Iheardnothing,’saidLadyJulietinafirmervoice.
PoirotturnedtoyoungLeonard.
‘Monsieur?’
‘Nothingdoing.Iwentstraightupstairsandturnedin.’
Poirotstrokedhischin.
‘Alas,Ifearthereisnothingtohelpmehere.Mesdamesandmonsieur,Iregret—Iregretinfinitelytohavederangedyoufromyourslumbersforsolittle.Acceptmyapologies,Iprayofyou.’
Gesticulatingandapologizing,hemarshalledthemout.HereturnedwiththeFrenchmaid,apretty,impudent-lookinggirl.AllowayandWeardalehadgoneoutwiththeladies.
‘Now,mademoiselle,’saidPoirotinabrisktone,‘letushavethetruth.Recounttomenohistories.Whydidyouscreamonthestairs?’
‘Ah,monsieur,Isawatallfigure—allinwhite—’
Poirotarrestedherwithanenergeticshakeofhisforefinger.
‘DidInotsay,recounttomenohistories?Iwillmakeaguess.Hekissedyou,didhenot?M.LeonardWeardale,Imean?’
‘Ehbien,monsieur,andafterall,whatisakiss?’
‘Underthecircumstances,itismostnatural,’repliedPoirotgallantly.‘Imyself,orHastingshere—buttellmejustwhatoccurred.’
‘Hecameupbehindme,andcaughtme.Iwasstartled,andIscreamed.IfIhadknown,Iwouldnothavescreamed—buthecameuponmelikeacat.ThencameM.lesecrêtaire.M.Leonardflewupthestairs.AndwhatcouldIsay?Especiallytoajeunehommecomme?a—tellementcommeilfaut?Mafoi,Iinventaghost.’
‘Andallisexplained,’criedPoirotgenially.‘YouthenmountedtothechamberofMadameyourmistress.Whichisherroom,bytheway?’
‘Itisattheend,monsieur.Thatway.’
‘Directlyoverthestudy,then.Bien,mademoiselle,Iwilldetainyounolonger.Andlaprochainefois,donotscream.’
Handingherout,hecamebacktomewithasmile.
‘Aninterestingcase,isitnot,Hastings?IbegintohaveafewlittleideasEtvous?’
‘WhatwasLeonardWeardaledoingonthestairs?Idon’tlikethatyoungman,Poirot.He’sathoroughyoungrake,Ishouldsay.’
‘Iagreewithyou,monami.’
‘Fitzroyseemsanhonestfellow.’
‘LordAllowayiscertainlyinsistentonthatpoint.’
‘Andyetthereissomethinginhismanner—’
‘Thatisalmosttoogoodtobetrue?Ifeltitmyself.Ontheotherhand,ourfriendMrsConradiscertainlynogoodatall.’
‘Andherroomisoverthestudy,’Isaidmusingly,andkeepingasharpeyeonPoirot.
Heshookhisheadwithaslightsmile.
‘No,monami,Icannotbringmyselfseriouslytobelievethatthatimmaculateladyswarmeddownthechimney,orletherselfdownfromthebalcony.’
Ashespoke,thedooropened,andtomygreatsurprise,LadyJulietWeardaleflittedin.
‘M.Poirot,’shesaidsomewhatbreathlessly,‘CanIspeaktoyoualone?’
‘Milady,CaptainHastingsisasmyotherself.Youcanspeakbeforehimasthoughhewereathingofnoaccount,notthereatall.Beseated,Iprayyou.’
Shesatdown,stillkeepinghereyesfixedonPoirot.
‘WhatIhavetosayis—ratherdifficult.Youareinchargeofthiscase.Ifthe—papersweretobereturned,wouldthatendthematter?Imean,coulditbedonewithoutquestionsbeingasked?’
Poirotstaredhardather.
‘Letmeunderstandyou,madame.Theyaretobeplacedinmyhand—isthatright?AndIamtoreturnthemtoLordAllowayontheconditionthatheasksnoquestionsastowhereIgotthem?’
Shebowedherhead.‘ThatiswhatImean.ButImustbesuretherewillbeno—publicity.’
‘IdonotthinkLordAllowayisparticularlyanxiousforpublicity,’saidPoirotgrimly.
‘Youacceptthen?’shecriedeagerlyinresponse.
‘Alittlemoment,milady.Itdependsonhowsoonyoucanplacethosepapersinmyhands.’
‘Almostimmediately.’
Poirotglancedupattheclock.
‘Howsoon,exactly?’
‘Say—tenminutes,’shewhispered.
‘Iaccept,milady.’
Shehurriedfromtheroom.Ipursedmymouthupforawhistle.
‘Canyousumupthesituationforme,Hastings?’
‘Bridge,’Irepliedsuccinctly.
‘Ah,yourememberthecarelesswordsofMonsieurtheAdmiral!Whatamemory!Ifelicitateyou,Hastings.’
Wesaidnomore,forLordAllowaycamein,andlookedinquiringlyatPoirot.
‘Haveyouanyfurtherideas,M.Poirot?Iamafraidtheanswerstoyourquestionshavebeenratherdisappointing.’
‘Notatall,milor’.Theyhavebeenquitesufficientlyilluminating.Itwillbeunnecessaryformetostayhereanylonger,andso,withyourpermission,IwillreturnatoncetoLondon.’
LordAllowayseemeddumbfounded.
‘But—butwhathaveyoudiscovered?Doyouknowwhotooktheplans?’
‘Yes,milor’,Ido.Tellme—inthecaseofthepapersbeingreturnedtoyouanonymously,youwouldprosecutenofurtherinquiry?’
LordAllowaystaredathim.
‘Doyoumeanonpaymentofasumofmoney?’
‘No,milor’,returnedunconditionally.’
‘Ofcourse,therecoveryoftheplansisthegreatthing,’saidLordAllowayslowly.Helookedpuzzledanduncomprehending.
‘ThenIshouldseriouslyrecommendyoutoadoptthatcourse.Onlyyou,theAdmiralandyoursecretaryknowoftheloss.Onlytheyneedknowoftherestitution.Andyoumaycountonmetosupportyouineveryway—laythemysteryonmyshoulders.Youaskedmetorestorethepapers—Ihavedoneso.Youknownomore.’Heroseandheldouthishand.‘Milor’,Iamgladtohavemetyou.Ihavefaithinyou—andyourdevotiontoEngland.Youwillguideherdestinieswithastrong,surehand.’
‘M.Poirot—IsweartoyouthatIwilldomybest.Itmaybeafault,oritmaybeavirtue—butIbelieveinmyself.’
‘Sodoeseverygreatman.Me,Iamthesame!’saidPoirotgrandiloquently.
III
Thecarcameroundtothedoorinafewminutes,andLordAllowaybadeusfarewellonthestepswithrenewedcordiality.
‘Thatisagreatman,Hastings,’saidPoirotaswedroveoff.‘Hehasbrains,resource,power.HeisthestrongmanthatEnglandneedstoguideherthroughthesedifficultdaysofreconstruction.’
‘I’mquitereadytoagreewithallyousay,Poirot—butwhataboutLadyJuliet?IsshetoreturnthepapersstraighttoAlloway?Whatwillshethinkwhenshefindsyouhavegoneoffwithoutaword?’
‘Hastings,Iwillaskyoualittlequestion.Why,whenshewastalkingwithme,didshenothandmetheplansthenandthere?’
‘Shehadn’tgotthemwithher.’
‘Perfectly.Howlongwouldittakehertofetchthemfromherroom?Orfromanyhiding-placeinthehouse?Youneednotanswer.Iwilltellyou.Probablyabouttwominutesandahalf!Yetsheasksfortenminutes.Why?Clearlyshehastoobtainthemfromsomeotherperson,andtoreasonorarguewiththatpersonbeforetheygivethemup.Now,whatpersoncouldthatbe?NotMrsConrad,clearly,butamemberofherownfamily,herhusbandorson.Whichisitlikelytobe?LeonardWeardalesaidhewentstraighttobed.Weknowthattobeuntrue.Supposinghismotherwenttohisroomandfounditempty;supposingshecamedownfilledwithanamelessdread—heisnobeautythatsonofhers!Shedoesnotfindhim,butlatershehearshimdenythatheeverlefthisroom.Sheleapstotheconclusionthatheisthethief.Henceherinterviewwithme.
‘But,monami,weknowsomethingthatLadyJulietdoesnot.Weknowthathersoncouldnothavebeeninthestudy,becausehewasonthestairs,makinglovetotheprettyFrenchmaid.Althoughshedoesnotknowit,LeonardWeardalehasanalibi.’
‘Well,then,whodidstealthepapers?Weseemtohaveeliminatedeverybody—LadyJuliet,herson,MrsConrad,theFrenchmaid—’
‘Exactly.Useyourlittlegreycells,myfriend.Thesolutionstaresyouintheface.’
Ishookmyheadblankly.
‘Butyes!Ifyouwouldonlypersevere!See,then,Fitzroygoesoutofthestudy;heleavesthepapersonthedesk.AfewminuteslaterLordAllowayenterstheroom,goestothedesk,andthepapersaregone.Onlytwothingsarepossible:eitherFitzroydidnotleavethepapersonthedesk,butputtheminhispocket—andthatisnotreasonable,because,asAllowaypointedout,hecouldhavetakenatracingathisownconvenienceanytime—orelsethepaperswerestillonthedeskwhenLordAllowaywenttoit—inwhichcasetheywentintohispocket.’
‘LordAllowaythethief,’Isaid,dumbfounded.‘Butwhy?Why?’
‘Didyounottellmeofsomescandalinthepast?Hewasexonerated,yousaid.Butsuppose,afterall,ithadbeentrue?InEnglishpubliclifetheremustbenoscandal.Ifthiswererakedupandprovedagainsthimnow—goodbyetohispoliticalcareer.Wewillsupposethathewasbeingblackmailed,andthepriceaskedwasthesubmarineplans.’
‘Buttheman’sablacktraitor!’Icried.
‘Ohno,heisnot.Heiscleverandresourceful.Supposing,myfriend,thathecopiedthoseplans,making—forheisacleverengineer—aslightalterationineachpartwhichwillrenderthemquiteimpractible.Hehandsthefakedplanstotheenemy’sagent—MrsConrad,Ifancy;butinorderthatnosuspicionoftheirgenuinenessmayarise,theplansmustseemtobestolen.Hedoeshisbesttothrownosuspiciononanyoneinthehouse,bypretendingtoseeamanleavingthewindow.ButthereheranupagainsttheobstinacyoftheAdmiral.SohisnextanxietyisthatnosuspicionshallfallonFitzroy.’
‘Thisisallguessworkonyourpart,Poirot,’Iobjected.
‘Itispsychology,monami.Amanwhohadhandedovertherealplanswouldnotbeoverscrupulousastowhowaslikelytofallundersuspicion.AndwhywashesoanxiousthatnodetailsoftherobberyshouldbegiventoMrsConrad?Becausehehadhandedoverthefakedplansearlierintheevening,anddidnotwanthertoknowthatthetheftcouldonlyhavetakenplacelater.’
‘Iwonderifyouareright,’Isaid.
‘OfcourseIamright.IspoketoAllowayasonegreatmantoanother—andheunderstoodperfectly.Youwillsee.’
IV
Onethingisquitecertain.OnthedaywhenLordAllowaybecamePrimeMinister,achequeandasignedphotographarrived;onthephotographwerethewords:‘Tomydiscreetfriend,HerculePoirot—fromAlloway.’
IbelievethattheZtypeofsubmarineiscausinggreatexultationinnavalcircles.Theysayitwillrevolutionizemodernnavalwarfare.Ihaveheardthatacertainforeignpoweressayedtoconstructsomethingofthesamekindandtheresultwasadismalfailure.ButIstillconsiderthatPoirotwasguessing.Hewilldoitoncetoooftenoneofthesedays.
TheThird-FloorFlat
I
‘Bother!’saidPat.
Withadeepeningfrownsherummagedwildlyinthesilkentrifleshecalledaneveningbag.Twoyoungmenandanothergirlwatchedheranxiously.TheywereallstandingoutsidethecloseddoorofPatriciaGarnett’sflat.
‘It’snogood,’saidPat.‘It’snotthere.Andnowwhatshallwedo?’
‘Whatislifewithoutalatchkey?’murmuredJimmyFaulkener.
Hewasashort,broad-shoulderedyoungman,withgood-temperedblueeyes.
Patturnedonhimangrily.‘Don’tmakejokes,Jimmy.Thisisserious.’
‘Lookagain,Pat,’saidDonovanBailey.‘Itmustbetheresomewhere.’
Hehadalazy,pleasantvoicethatmatchedhislean,darkfigure.
‘Ifyoueverbroughtitout,’saidtheothergirl,MildredHope.
‘OfcourseIbroughtitout,’saidPat.‘IbelieveIgaveittooneofyoutwo.’Sheturnedonthemenaccusingly.‘ItoldDonovantotakeitforme.’
Butshewasnottofindascapegoatsoeasily.Donovanputinafirmdisclaimer,andJimmybackedhimup.
‘Isawyouputitinyourbag,myself,’saidJimmy.
‘Well,then,oneofyoudroppeditoutwhenyoupickedupmybag.I’vedroppeditonceortwice.’
‘Onceortwice!’saidDonovan.‘You’vedroppeditadozentimesatleast,besidesleavingitbehindoneverypossibleoccasion.’
‘Ican’tseewhyeverythingonearthdoesn’tdropoutofitthewholetime,’saidJimmy.
‘Thepointis—howarewegoingtogetin?’saidMildred.
Shewasasensiblegirl,whokepttothepoint,butshewasnotnearlysoattractiveastheimpulsiveandtroublesomePat.
Allfourofthemregardedthecloseddoorblankly.
‘Couldn’ttheporterhelp?’suggestedJimmy.‘Hasn’thegotamasterkeyorsomethingofthatkind?’
Patshookherhead.Therewereonlytwokeys.Onewasinsidetheflathungupinthekitchenandtheotherwas—orshouldbe—inthemalignedbag.
‘Ifonlytheflatwereonthegroundfloor,’wailedPat.‘Wecouldhavebrokenopenawindoworsomething.Donovan,youwouldn’tliketobeacatburglar,wouldyou?’
Donovandeclinedfirmlybutpolitelytobeacatburglar.
‘Aflatonthefourthfloorisabitofanundertaking,’saidJimmy.
‘Howaboutafire-escape?’suggestedDonovan.
‘Thereisn’tone.’
‘Thereshouldbe,’saidJimmy.‘Abuildingfivestoreyshighoughttohaveafireescape.’
‘Idaresay,’saidPat.‘Butwhatshouldbedoesn’thelpus.HowamIevertogetintomyflat?’
‘Isn’tthereasortofthingummybob?’saidDonovan.‘Athingthetradesmensendupchopsandbrusselssproutsin?’
‘Theservicelift,’saidPat.‘Ohyes,butit’sonlyasortofwire-basketthing.Ohwait—Iknow.Whataboutthecoallift?’
‘Nowthat,’saidDonovan,‘isanidea.’
Mildredmadeadiscouragingsuggestion.‘It’llbebolted,’shesaid.‘InPat’skitchen,Imean,ontheinside.’
Buttheideawasinstantlynegatived.
‘Don’tyoubelieveit,’saidDonovan
‘NotinPat’skitchen,’saidJimmy.‘Patneverlocksandboltsthings.’
‘Idon’tthinkit’sbolted,’saidPat.‘Itookthedustbinoffthismorning,andI’msureIneverbolteditafterwards,andIdon’tthinkI’vebeennearitsince.’
‘Well,’saidDonovan,‘thatfact’sgoingtobeveryusefultoustonight,but,allthesame,youngPat,letmepointouttoyouthattheseslackhabitsareleavingyouatthemercyofburglars—non-feline—everynight.’
Patdisregardedtheseadmonitions.
‘Comeon,’shecried,andbeganracingdownthefourflightsofstairs.Theothersfollowedher.Patledthemthroughadarkrecess,apparentlyfulltooverflowingofperambulators,andthroughanotherdoorintothewelloftheflats,andguidedthemtotherightlift.Therewas,atthemoment,adustbinonit.Donovanlifteditoffandsteppedgingerlyontotheplatforminitsplace.Hewrinkleduphisnose.
‘Alittlenoisome,’heremarked.‘Butwhatofthat?DoIgoaloneonthisventureorisanyonecomingwithme?’
‘I’llcome,too,’saidJimmy.
HesteppedonbyDonovan’sside.
‘Isupposetheliftwillbearme,’headdeddoubtfully.
‘Youcan’tweighmuchmorethanatonofcoal,’saidPat,whohadneverbeenparticularlystrongonherweights-and-measurestable.
‘And,anyway,weshallsoonfindout,’saidDonovancheerfully,ashehauledontherope.
Withagrindingnoisetheydisappearedfromsight.
‘Thisthingmakesanawfulnoise,’remarkedJimmy,astheypassedupthroughblackness.‘Whatwillthepeopleintheotherflatsthink?’
‘Ghostsorburglars,Iexpect,’saidDonovan.‘Haulingthisropeisquiteheavywork.TheporterofFriarsMansionsdoesmoreworkthanIeversuspected.Isay,Jimmy,oldson,areyoucountingthefloors?’
‘Oh,Lord!No.Iforgotaboutit.’
‘Well,Ihave,whichisjustaswell.That’sthethirdwe’repassingnow.Thenextisours.’
‘Andnow,Isuppose,’grumbledJimmy,‘weshallfindthatPatdidboltthedoorafterall.’
Butthesefearswereunfounded.Thewoodendoorswungbackatatouch,andDonovanandJimmysteppedoutintotheinkyblacknesssofPat’skitchen.
‘Weoughttohaveatorchforthiswildnightwork,’exclaimedDonovan.‘IfIknowPat,everything’sonthefloor,andweshallsmashendlesscrockerybeforeIcangettothelightswitch.Don’tmoveabout,Jimmy,tillIgetthelighton.’
Hefelthiswaycautiouslyoverthefloor,utteringonefervent‘Damn!’asacornerofthekitchentabletookhimunawaresintheribs.Hereachedtheswitch,andinanothermomentanother‘Damn!’floatedoutofthedarkness.
‘What’sthematter?’askedJimmy.
‘Lightwon’tcomeon.Dudbulb,Isuppose.Waitaminute.I’llturnthesitting-roomlighton.’
Thesitting-roomwasthedoorimmediatelyacrossthepassage.JimmyheardDonovangooutofthedoor,andpresentlyfreshmuffledcursesreachedhim.Hehimselfedgedhiswaycautiouslyacrossthekitchen.
‘What’sthematter?’
‘Idon’tknow.Roomsgetbewitchedatnight,Ibelieve.Everythingseemstobeinadifferentplace.Chairsandtableswhereyouleastexpectedthem.Oh,hell!Here’sanother!’
ButatthismomentJimmyfortunatelyconnectedwiththeelectric-lightswitchandpresseditdown.Inanotherminutetwoyoungmenwerelookingateachotherinsilenthorror.
ThisroomwasnotPat’ssitting-room.Theywereinthewrongflat.
Tobeginwith,theroomwasabouttentimesmorecrowdedthanPat’s,whichexplainedDonovan’spatheticbewildermentatrepeatedlycannoningintochairsandtables.Therewasalargeroundtableinthecentreoftheroomcoveredwithabaizecloth,andtherewasanaspidistrainthewindow.Itwas,infact,thekindofroomwhoseowner,theyoungmenfeltsure,wouldbedifficulttoexplainto.Withsilenthorrortheygazeddownatthetable,onwhichlayalittlepileofletters.
‘MrsErnestineGrant,’breathedDonovan,pickingthemupandreadingthename.‘Oh,help!Doyouthinkshe’sheardus?’
‘It’samiracleshehasn’theardyou,’saidJimmy.‘Whatwithyourlanguageandthewayyou’vebeencrashingintothefurniture.Comeon,fortheLord’ssake,let’sgetoutofherequickly.’
Theyhastilyswitchedoffthelightandretracedtheirstepsontiptoetothelift.Jimmybreathedasighofreliefastheyregainedthefastnessofitsdepthswithoutfurtherincident.
‘Idolikeawomantobeagood,soundsleeper,’hesaidapprovingly.‘MrsErnestineGranthasherpoints.’
‘Iseeitnow,’saidDonovan;‘whywemadethemistakeinthefloor,Imean.Outinthatwellwestartedupfromthebasement.’
II
Heheavedontherope,andtheliftshotup.‘We’rerightthistime.’
‘Idevoutlytrustweare,’saidJimmyashesteppedoutintoanotherinkyvoid.‘Mynerveswon’tstandmanymoreshocksofthiskind.’
Butnofurthernervestrainwasimposed.ThefirstclickofthelightshowedthemPat’skitchen,andinanotherminutetheywereopeningthefrontdoorandadmittingthetwogirlswhowerewaitingoutside.
‘Youhavebeenalongtime,’grumbledPat.‘MildredandIhavebeenwaitinghereages.’
‘We’vehadanadventure,’saidDonovan.‘Wemighthavebeenhauledofftothepolice-stationasdangerousmalefactors.’
Pathadpassedonintothesitting-room,wheresheswitchedonthelightanddroppedherwraponthesofa.ShelistenedwithlivelyinteresttoDonovan’saccountofhisadventures.
‘I’mgladshedidn’tcatchyou,’shecommented.‘I’msureshe’sanoldcurmudgeon.Igotanotefromherthismorning—wantedtoseemesometime—somethingshehadtocomplainabout—mypiano,Isuppose.Peoplewhodon’tlikepianosovertheirheadsshouldn’tcomeandliveinflats.Isay,Donovan,you’vehurtyourhand.It’salloverblood.Goandwashitunderthetap.’
Donovanlookeddownathishandinsurprise.HewentoutoftheroomobedientlyandpresentlyhisvoicecalledtoJimmy.
‘Hullo,’saidtheother,‘what’sup?Youhaven’thurtyourselfbadly,haveyou?’
‘Ihaven’thurtmyselfatall.’
TherewassomethingsoqueerinDonovan’svoicethatJimmystaredathiminsurprise.DonovanheldouthiswashedhandandJimmysawthattherewasnomarkorcutofanykindonit.
‘That’sodd,’hesaid,frowning.‘Therewasquitealotofblood.Wherediditcomefrom?’Andthensuddenlyherealizedwhathisquicker-wittedfriendhadalreadyseen.‘ByJove,’hesaid.‘Itmusthavecomefromthatflat.’Hestopped,thinkingoverthepossibilitieshiswordimplied.‘You’resureitwas—er—blood?’hesaid.‘Notpaint?’
Donovanshookhishead.‘Itwasblood,allright,’hesaid,andshivered.
Theylookedateachother.Thesamethoughtwasclearlyineachoftheirminds.ItwasJimmywhovoiceditfirst.
‘Isay,’hesaidawkwardly.‘Doyouthinkweoughtto—well—godownagain—andhave—a—lookaround?Seeit’sallright,youknow?’
‘Whataboutthegirls?’
‘Wewon’tsayanythingtothem.Pat’sgoingtoputonanapronandmakeusanomelette.We’llbebackbythetimetheywonderwhereweare.’
‘Oh,well,comeon,’saidDonovan.‘Isupposewe’vegottogothroughwithit.Idaresaythereisn’tanythingreallywrong.’
Buthistonelackedconviction.Theygotintotheliftanddescendedtothefloorbelow.Theyfoundtheirwayacrossthekitchenwithoutmuchdifficultyandoncemoreswitchedonthesitting-roomlight.
‘Itmusthavebeeninhere,’saidDonovan,‘that—thatIgotthestuffonme.Inevertouchedanythinginthekitchen.’
Helookedroundhim.Jimmydidthesame,andtheybothfrowned.Everythinglookedneatandcommonplaceandmilesremovedfromanysuggestionofviolenceorgore.
SuddenlyJimmystartedviolentlyandcaughthiscompanion’sarm.
‘Look!’
Donovanfollowedthepointingfinger,andinhisturnutteredanexclamation.Frombeneaththeheavyredcurtainsthereprotrudedafoot—awoman’sfootinagapingpatentleathershoe.
Jimmywenttothecurtainsanddrewthemsharplyapart.Intherecessofthewindowawoman’shuddledbodylayonthefloor,astickydarkpoolbesideit.Shewasdead,therewasnodoubtofthat.JimmywasattemptingtoraiseherupwhenDonovanstoppedhim.
‘You’dbetternotdothat.Sheoughtn’ttobetouchedtillthepolicecome.’
‘Thepolice.Oh,ofcourse.Isay,Donovan,whataghastlybusiness.Whodoyouthinksheis?MrsErnestineGrant?’
‘Lookslikeit.Atanyrate,ifthere’sanyoneelseintheflatthey’rekeepingjollyquiet.’
‘Whatdowedonext?’askedJimmy.‘RunoutandgetapolicemanorringupfromPat’sflat?’
‘Ishouldthinkringingupwouldbebest.Comeon,wemightaswellgooutthefrontdoor.Wecan’tspendthewholenightgoingupanddowninthatevil-smellinglift.’
Jimmyagreed.Justastheywerepassingthroughthedoorhehesitated.‘Lookhere;doyouthinkoneofusoughttostay—justtokeepaneyeonthings—tillthepolicecome?’
‘Yes,Ithinkyou’reright.Ifyou’llstayI’llrunupandtelephone.’
Heranquicklyupthestairsandrangthebelloftheflatabove.Patcametoopenit,averyprettyPatwithaflushedfaceandacookingapronon.Hereyeswidenedinsurprise.
‘You?Buthow—Donovan,whatisit?Isanythingthematter?’
Hetookbothherhandsinhis.‘It’sallright,Pat—onlywe’vemadearatherunpleasantdiscoveryintheflatbelow.Awoman—dead.’
‘Oh!’Shegavealittlegasp.‘Howhorrible.Hasshehadafitorsomething?’
‘No.Itlooks—well—itlooksratherasthoughshehadbeenmurdered.’
‘Oh,Donovan!’
‘Iknow.It’sprettybeastly.’
Herhandswerestillinhis.Shehadleftthemthere—wasevenclingingtohim.DarlingPat—howhelovedher.Didshecareatallforhim?Sometimeshethoughtshedid.SometimeshewasafraidthatJimmyFaulkener—remembrancesofJimmywaitingpatientlybelowmadehimstartguiltily.
‘Pat,dear,wemusttelephonetothepolice.’
‘Monsieurisright,’saidavoicebehindhim.‘Andinthemeantime,whilewearewaitingtheirarrival,perhapsIcanbeofsomeslightassistance.’
Theyhadbeenstandinginthedoorwayoftheflat,andnowtheypeeredoutonthelanding.Afigurewasstandingonthestairsalittlewayabovethem.Itmoveddownandintotheirrangeofvision.
Theystoodstaringatthelittlemanwithaveryfiercemoustacheandanegg-shapedhead.Heworearesplendentdressing-gownandembroideredslippers.HebowedgallantlytoPatricia.
‘Mademoiselle!’hesaid.‘Iam,asperhapsyouknow,thetenantoftheflatabove.Iliketobeuphigh—intheair—theviewoverLondon.ItaketheflatinthenameofMrO’Connor.ButIamnotanIrishman.Ihaveanothername.ThatiswhyIventuretoputmyselfatyourservice.Permitme.’WithaflourishhepulledoutacardandhandedittoPat.Shereadit.
‘M.HerculePoirot.Oh!’Shecaughtherbreath.
‘TheM.Poirot!Thegreatdetective?Andyouwillreallyhelp?’
‘Thatismyintention,mademoiselle.Inearlyofferedmyhelpearlierintheevening.’
Patlookedpuzzled.
‘Iheardyoudiscussinghowtogainadmissiontoyourflat.Me,Iamverycleveratpickinglocks.Icould,withoutdoubt,haveopenedyourdoorforyou,butIhesitatedtosuggestit.Youwouldhavehadthegravesuspicionsofme.’
Patlaughed.
‘Now,monsieur,’saidPoirottoDonovan.‘Goin,Iprayofyou,andtelephonetothepolice.Iwilldescendtotheflatbelow.’
Patcamedownthestairswithhim.TheyfoundJimmyonguard,andPatexplainedPoirot’spresence.Jimmy,inhisturn,explainedtoPoirothisandDonovan’sadventures.Thedetectivelistenedattentively.
‘Theliftdoorwasunbolted,yousay?Youemergedintothekitchen,butthelightitwouldnotturnon.’
Hedirectedhisfootstepstothekitchenashespoke.Hisfingerspressedtheswitch.
‘Tiens!Voilàcequiestcurieux!’hesaidasthelightflashedon.‘Itfunctionsperfectlynow.Iwonder—’Heheldupafingertoensuresilenceandlistened.Afaintsoundbrokethestillness—thesoundofanunmistakablesnore.‘Ah!’saidPoirot.‘Lachambrededomestique.’
Hetiptoedacrossthekitchenintoalittlepantry,outofwhichledadoor.Heopenedthedoorandswitchedonthelight.Theroomwasthekindofdogkenneldesignedbythebuildersofflatstoaccommodateahumanbeing.Thefloorspacewasalmostentirelyoccupiedbythebed.Inthebedwasarosy-cheekedgirllyingonherbackwithhermouthwideopen,snoringplacidly.
Poirotswitchedoffthelightandbeataretreat.
‘Shewillnotwake,’hesaid.‘Wewilllethersleeptillthepolicecome.’
Hewentbacktothesitting-room.Donovanhadjoinedthem.
‘Thepolicewillbeherealmostimmediately,theysay,’hesaidbreathlessly.‘Wearetotouchnothing.’
Poirotnodded.‘Wewillnottouch,’hesaid.‘Wewilllook,thatisall.’
Hemovedintotheroom.MildredhadcomedownwithDonovan,andallfouryoungpeoplestoodinthedoorwayandwatchedhimwithbreathlessinterest.
‘WhatIcan’tunderstand,sir,isthis,’saidDonovan.‘Ineverwentnearthewindow—howdidthebloodcomeonmyhand?’
‘Myyoungfriend,theanswertothatstaresyouintheface.Ofwhatcolouristhetablecloth?Red,isitnot?anddoubtlessyoudidputyourhandonthetable.’
‘Yes,Idid.Isthat—?Hestopped.
Poirotnodded.Hewasbendingoverthetable.Heindicatedwithhishandadarkpatchonthered.
‘Itwasherethatthecrimewascommitted,’hesaidsolemnly.‘Thebodywasmovedafterwards.’
Thenhestooduprightandlookedslowlyroundtheroom.Hedidnotmove,hehandlednothing,butneverthelessthefourwatchingfeltasthougheveryobjectinthatratherfrowstyplacegaveupitssecrettohisobservanteye.
HerculePoirotnoddedhisheadasthoughsatisfied.Alittlesighescapedhim.‘Isee,’hesaid.
‘Youseewhat?’askedDonovancuriously.
‘Isee,’saidPoirot,‘whatyoudoubtlessfelt—thattheroomisoverfulloffurniture.’
Donovansmiledruefully.‘Ididgobargingaboutabit,’heconfessed.‘Ofcourse,everythingwasinadifferentplacetoPat’sroom,andIcouldn’tmakeitout.’
‘Noteverything,’saidPoirot.
Donovanlookedathiminquiringly.
‘Imean,’saidPoirotapologetically,‘thatcertainthingsarealwaysfixed.Inablockofflatsthedoor,thewindow,thefireplace—theyareinthesameplaceintheroomswhicharebeloweachother.’
‘Isn’tthatrathersplittinghairs?’askedMildred.ShewaslookingatPoirotwithfaintdisapproval.
‘Oneshouldalwaysspeakwithabsoluteaccuracy.Thatisalittle—howdoyousay?—fadofmine.’
Therewasthenoiseoffootstepsonthestairs,andthreemencamein.Theywereapoliceinspector,aconstable,andthedivisionalsurgeon.TheinspectorrecognizedPoirotandgreetedhiminanalmostreverentialmanner.Thenheturnedtotheothers.
‘Ishallwantstatementsfromeveryone,’hebegan,‘butinthefirstplace—’
Poirotinterrupted.‘Alittlesuggestion.Wewillgobacktotheflatupstairsandmademoisellehereshalldowhatshewasplanningtodo—makeusanomelette.Me,Ihaveapassionfortheomelettes.Then,M.l’Inspecteur,whenyouhavefinishedhere,youwillmounttousandaskquestionsatyourleisure.’
Itwasarrangedaccordingly,andPoirotwentupwiththem.
‘M.Poirot,’saidPat,‘Ithinkyou’reaperfectdear.Andyoushallhavealovelyomelette.Ireallymakeomelettesfrightfullywell.’
‘Thatisgood.Once,mademoiselle,IlovedabeautifulyoungEnglishgirl,whoresembledyougreatly—butalas!—shecouldnotcook.Soperhapseverythingwasforthebest.’
Therewasafaintsadnessinhisvoice,andJimmyFaulkenerlookedathimcuriously.
Onceintheflat,however,heexertedhimselftopleaseandamuse.Thegrimtragedybelowwasalmostforgotten.
TheomelettehadbeenconsumedanddulypraisedbythetimethatInspectorRice’sfootstepswereheard.Hecameinaccompaniedbythedoctor,havinglefttheconstablebelow.
‘Well,MonsieurPoirot,’hesaid.‘Itallseemsclearandabove-board—notmuchinyourline,thoughwemayfindithardtocatchtheman.I’djustliketohearhowthediscoverycametobemade.’
DonovanandJimmybetweenthemrecountedthehappeningsoftheevening.TheinspectorturnedreproachfullytoPat.
‘Youshouldn’tleaveyourliftdoorunbolted,miss.Youreallyshouldn’t.’
‘Ishan’tagain,’saidPat,withashiver.‘Somebodymightcomeinandmurdermelikethatpoorwomanbelow.’
‘Ah,buttheydidn’tcomeinthatway,though,’saidtheinspector.
‘Youwillrecounttouswhatyouhavediscovered,yes?’saidPoirot.
‘Idon’tknowasIoughtto—butseeingit’syou,M.Poirot—’
‘Précisément,’saidPoirot.‘Andtheseyoungpeople—theywillbediscreet.’
‘Thenewspaperswillgetholdofit,anyway,soonenough,’saidtheinspector.‘There’snorealsecretaboutthematter.Well,thedeadwoman’sMrsGrant,allright.Ihadtheporteruptoidentifyher.Womanofaboutthirty-five.Shewassittingatthetable,andshewasshotwithanautomaticpistolofsmallcalibre,probablybysomeonesittingoppositeherattable.Shefellforward,andthat’showthebloodstaincameonthetable.’
‘Butwouldn’tsomeonehaveheardtheshot?’askedMildred.
‘Thepistolwasfittedwithasilencer.No,youwouldn’thearanything.Bytheway,didyouhearthescreechthemaidletoutwhenwetoldherhermistresswasdead?No.Well,thatjustshowshowunlikelyitwasthatanyonewouldheartheother.’
‘Hasthemaidnostorytotell?’askedPoirot.
‘Itwashereveningout.She’sgotherownkey.Shecameinaboutteno’clock.Everythingwasquiet.Shethoughthermistresshadgonetobed.’
‘Shedidnotlookinthesitting-room,then?’
‘Yes,shetookthelettersintherewhichhadcomebytheeveningpost,butshesawnothingunusual—anymorethanMrFaulkenerandMrBaileydid.Yousee,themurdererhadconcealedthebodyratherneatlybehindthecurtains.’
‘Butitwasacuriousthingtodo,don’tyouthink?’
Poirot’svoicewasverygentle,yetitheldsomethingthatmadetheinspectorlookupquickly.
‘Didn’twantthecrimediscoveredtillhe’dhadtimetomakehisgetaway.’
‘Perhaps,perhaps—butcontinuewithwhatyouweresaying.’
‘Themaidwentoutatfiveo’clock.Thedoctorhereputsthetimeofdeathas—roughly—aboutfourtofivehoursago.That’sright,isn’tit?’
Thedoctor,whowasamanoffewwords,contentedhimselfwithjerkinghisheadaffirmatively.
‘It’saquartertotwelvenow.Theactualtimecan,Ithink,benarroweddowntoafairlydefinitehour.’
Hetookoutacrumpledsheetofpaper.
‘Wefoundthisinthepocketofthedeadwoman’sdress.Youneedn’tbeafraidofhandlingit.Therearenofingerprintsonit.’
Poirotsmoothedoutthesheet.Acrossitsomewordswereprintedinsmall,primcapitals.
IWILLCOMETOSEEYOUTHISEVENINGATHALFPASTSEVEN.J.F.
‘Acompromisingdocumenttoleavebehind,’commentedPoirot,ashehandeditback.
‘Well,hedidn’tknowshe’dgotitinherpocket,’saidtheinspector.‘Heprobablythoughtshe’ddestroyedit.We’veevidencethathewasacarefulman,though.Thepistolshewasshotwithwefoundunderthebody—andthereagainnofingerprints.They’dbeenwipedoffverycarefullywithasilkhandkerchief.’
‘Howdoyouknow,’saidPoirot,‘thatitwasasilkhandkerchief?’
‘Becausewefoundit,’saidtheinspectortriumphantly.‘Atthelast,ashewasdrawingthecurtains,hemusthaveletitfallunnoticed.’
Hehandedacrossabigwhitesilkhandkerchief—agood-qualityhandkerchief.Itdidnotneedtheinspector’sfingertodrawPoirot’sattentiontothemarkonitinthecentre.Itwasneatlymarkedandquitelegible.Poirotreadthenameout.
‘JohnFraser.’
‘That’sit,’saidtheinspector.‘JohnFraser—J.F.inthenote.Weknowthenameofthemanwehavetolookfor,andIdaresaywhenwefindoutalittleaboutthedeadwoman,andherrelationscomeforward,weshallsoongetalineonhim.’
‘Iwonder,’saidPoirot.‘No,moncher,somehowIdonotthinkhewillbeeasytofind,yourJohnFraser.Heisastrangeman—careful,sincehemarkshishandkerchiefsandwipesthepistolwithwhichhehascommittedthecrime—yetcarelesssinceheloseshishandkerchiefanddoesnotsearchforaletterthatmightincriminatehim.’
‘Flurried,that’swhathewas,’saidtheinspector.
‘Itispossible,’saidPoirot.‘Yes,itispossible.Andhewasnotseenenteringthebuilding?’
‘Thereareallsortsofpeoplegoinginandoutallthetime.Thesearebigblocks.Isupposenoneofyou—’headdressedthefourcollectively—‘sawanyonecomingoutoftheflat?’
Patshookherhead.‘Wewentoutearlier—aboutseveno’clock.’
‘Isee.’Theinspectorrose.Poirotaccompaniedhimtothedoor.
‘Asalittlefavour,mayIexaminetheflatbelow?’
‘Why,certainly,M.Poirot.Iknowwhattheythinkofyouatheadquarters.I’llleaveyouakey.I’vegottwo.Itwillbeempty.Themaidclearedouttosomerelatives,tooscaredtostaytherealone.’
‘Ithankyou,’saidM.Poirot.Hewentbackintotheflat,thoughtful.
‘You’renotsatisfied,M.Poirot?’saidJimmy.
‘No,’saidPoirot.‘Iamnotsatisfied.’
Donovanlookedathimcuriously.‘Whatisitthat—well,worriesyou?’
Poirotdidnotanswer.Heremainedsilentforaminuteortwo,frowning,asthoughinthought,thenhemadeasuddenimpatientmovementoftheshoulders.
‘Iwillsaygoodnighttoyou,mademoiselle.Youmustbetired.Youhavehadmuchcookingtodo—eh?’
Patlaughed.‘Onlytheomelette.Ididn’tdodinner.DonovanandJimmycameandcalledforus,andwewentouttoalittleplaceinSoho.’
‘Andthenwithoutdoubt,youwenttoatheatre?’
‘Yes.TheBrownEyesofCaroline.’
‘Ah!’saidPoirot.‘Itshouldhavebeenblueeyes—theblueeyesofmademoiselle.’
Hemadeasentimentalgesture,andthenoncemorewishedPatgoodnight,alsoMildred,whowasstayingthenightbyspecialrequest,asPatadmittedfranklythatshewouldgetthehorrorsifleftaloneonthisparticularnight.
ThetwoyoungmenaccompaniedPoirot.Whenthedoorwasshut,andtheywerepreparingtosaygoodbyetohimonthelanding,Poirotforestalledthem.
‘Myyoungfriends,youheardmesayIwasnotsatisfied?Ehbien,itistrue—Iamnot.Igonowtomakesomelittleinvestigationsofmyown.Youwouldliketoaccompanyme—yes?’
Aneagerassentgreetedthisproposal.Poirotledthewaytotheflatbelowandinsertedthekeytheinspectorhadgivenhiminthelock.Onentering,hedidnot,astheothershadexpected,enterthesitting-room.Insteadhewentstraighttothekitchen.Inalittlerecesswhichservedasasculleryabigironbinwasstanding.Poirotuncoveredthisand,doublinghimselfup,begantorootleinitwiththeenergyofaferociousterrier.
BothJimmyandDonovanstaredathiminamazement.
Suddenlywithacryoftriumphheemerged.Inhishandheheldaloftasmallstopperedbottle.
‘Voilà!’hesaid.‘IfindwhatIseek.’Hesniffedatitdelicately.‘Alas!Iamenrhumé—Ihavethecoldinthehead.’
Donovantookthebottlefromhimandsniffedinhisturn,butcouldsmellnothing.HetookoutthestopperandheldthebottletohisnosebeforePoirot’swarningcrycouldstophim.
Immediatelyhefelllikealog.Poirot,byspringingforward,partlybrokehisfall.
‘Imbecile!’hecried.‘Theidea.Toremovethestopperinthatfoolhardymanner!DidhenotobservehowdelicatelyIhandledit?Monsieur—Faulkener—isitnot?Willyoubesogoodastogetmealittlebrandy?Iobservedadecanterinthesitting-room.’
Jimmyhurriedoff,butbythetimehereturned,Donovanwassittingupanddeclaringhimselfquiteallrightagain.HehadtolistentoashortlecturefromPoirotonthenecessityofcautioninsniffingatpossiblypoisonoussubstances.
‘IthinkI’llbeoffhome,’saidDonovan,risingshakilytohisfeet.‘Thatis,ifIcan’tbeanymoreusehere.Ifeelabitwonkystill.’
‘Assuredly,’saidPoirot.‘Thatisthebestthingyoucando.M.Faulkener,attendmeherealittleminute.Iwillreturnontheinstant.’
HeaccompaniedDonovantothedoorandbeyond.Theyremainedoutsideonthelandingtalkingforsomeminutes.WhenPoirotatlastre-enteredtheflathefoundJimmystandinginthesitting-roomgazingroundhimwithpuzzledeyes.
‘Well,M.Poirot,’hesaid,‘whatnext?’
‘Thereisnothingnext.Thecaseisfinished.’
‘What?’
‘Iknoweverything—now.’
Jimmystaredathim.‘Thatlittlebottleyoufound?’
‘Exactly.Thatlittlebottle.’
Jimmyshookhishead.‘Ican’tmakeheadortailofit.ForsomereasonorotherIcanseeyouaredissatisfiedwiththeevidenceagainstthisJohnFraser,whoeverhemaybe.’
‘Whoeverhemaybe,’repeatedPoirotsoftly.‘Ifheisanyoneatall—well,Ishallbesurprised.’
‘Idon’tunderstand.’
‘Heisaname—thatisall—anamecarefullymarkedonahandkerchief!’
‘Andtheletter?’
‘Didyounoticethatitwasprinted?Now,why?Iwilltellyou.Handwritingmightberecognized,andatypewrittenletterismoreeasilytracedthanyouwouldimagine—butifarealJohnFraserwrotethatletterthosetwopointswouldnothaveappealedtohim!No,itwaswrittenonpurpose,andputinthedeadwoman’spocketforustofind.ThereisnosuchpersonasJohnFraser.’
Jimmylookedathiminquiringly.
‘Andso,’wentonPoirot,‘Iwentbacktothepointthatfirststruckme.Youheardmesaythatcertainthingsinaroomwerealwaysinthesameplaceundergivencircumstances.Igavethreeinstances.Imighthavementionedafourth—theelectric-lightswitch,myfriend.’
Jimmystillstareduncomprehendingly.Poirotwenton.
‘YourfriendDonovandidnotgonearthewindow—itwasbyrestinghishandonthistablethathegotitcoveredinblood!ButIaskedmyselfatonce—whydidherestitthere?Whatwashedoinggropingaboutthisroomindarkness?Forremember,myfriend,theelectric-lightswitchisalwaysinthesameplace—bythedoor.Why,whenhecametothisroom,didhenotatoncefeelforthelightandturniton?Thatwasthenatural,thenormalthingtodo.Accordingtohim,hetriedtoturnonthelightinthekitchen,butfailed.YetwhenItriedtheswitchitwasinperfectworkingorder.Didhe,then,notwishthelighttogoonjustthen?Ifithadgoneonyouwouldbothhaveseenatoncethatyouwereinthewrongflat.Therewouldhavebeennoreasontocomeintothisroom.’
‘Whatareyoudrivingat,M.Poirot?Idon’tunderstand.Whatdoyoumean?’
‘Imean—this.’
PoirotheldupaYaledoorkey.
‘Thekeyofthisflat?’
‘No,monami,thekeyoftheflatabove.MademoisellePatricia’skey,whichM.DonovanBaileyabstractedfromherbagsometimeduringtheevening.’
‘Butwhy—why?’
‘Parbleu!Sothathecoulddowhathewantedtodo—gainadmissiontothisflatinaperfectlyunsuspiciousmanner.Hemadesurethattheliftdoorwasunboltedearlierintheevening.’
‘Wheredidyougetthekey?’
Poirot’ssmilebroadened.‘Ifounditjustnow—whereIlookedforit—inM.Donovan’spocket.Seeyou,thatlittlebottleIpretendedtofindwasaruse.M.Donovanistakenin.HedoeswhatIknewhewoulddo—unstoppersitandsniffs.Andinthatlittlebottleisethylchloride,averypowerfulinstantanaesthetic.ItgivesmejustthemomentortwoofunconsciousnessIneed.ItakefromhispocketthetwothingsthatIknewwouldbethere.Thiskeywasoneofthem—theother—’
Hestoppedandthenwenton.
‘Iquestionedatthetimethereasontheinspectorgaveforthebodybeingconcealedbehindthecurtain.Togaintime?No,therewasmorethanthat.AndsoIthoughtofjustonething—thepost,myfriend.Theeveningpostthatcomesathalfpastnineorthereabouts.Saythemurdererdoesnotfindsomethingheexpectstofind,butthatsomethingmaybedeliveredbypostlater.Clearly,then,hemustcomeback.Butthecrimemustnotbediscoveredbythemaidwhenshecomesin,orthepolicewouldtakepossessionoftheflat,sohehidesthebodybehindthecurtain.Andthemaidsuspectsnothingandlaysthelettersonthetableasusual.’
‘Theletters?’
‘Yes,theletters.’Poirotdrewsomethingfromhispocket.‘ThisisthesecondarticleItookfromM.Donovanwhenhewasunconscious.’Heshowedthesuperscription—atypewrittenenvelopeaddressedtoMrsErnestineGrant.‘ButIwillaskyouonethingfirst.M.Faulkener,beforewelookatthecontentsofthisletter.AreyouorareyounotinlovewithMademoisellePatricia?’
‘IcareforPatdamnably—butI’veneverthoughtIhadachance.’
‘YouthoughtthatshecaredforM.Donovan?Itmaybethatshehadbeguntocareforhim—butitwasonlyabeginning,myfriend.Itisforyoutomakeherforget—tostandbyherinhertrouble.’
‘Trouble?’saidJimmysharply.
‘Yes,trouble.Wewilldoallwecantokeephernameoutofit,butitwillbeimpossibletodosoentirely.Shewas,yousee,themotive.’
Herippedopentheenvelopethatheheld.Anenclosurefellout.Thecoveringletterwasbrief,andwasfromafirmofsolicitors.
DearMadam,Thedocumentyouencloseisquiteinorder,andthefactofthemarriagehavingtakenplaceinaforeigncountrydoesnotinvalidateitinanyway.Yourstruly,etc.
Poirotspreadouttheenclosure.ItwasacertificateofmarriagebetweenDonovanBaileyandErnestineGrant,datedeightyearsago.
‘Oh,myGod!’saidJimmy.‘Patsaidshe’dhadaletterfromthewomanaskingtoseeher,butsheneverdreameditwasanythingimportant.’
Poirotnodded.‘Donovanknew—hewenttoseehiswifethiseveningbeforegoingtotheflatabove—astrangeirony,bytheway,thatledtheunfortunatewomantocometothisbuildingwhereherrivallived—hemurderedherincoldblood,andthenwentontohisevening’samusement.Hiswifemusthavetoldhimthatshehadsentthemarriagecertificatetohersolicitorsandwasexpectingtohearfromthem.Doubtlesshehimselfhadtriedtomakeherbelievethattherewasaflawinthemarriage.’
‘Heseemedinquitegoodspirits,too,alltheevening.M.Poirot,youhaven’tlethimescape?’Jimmyshuddered.
‘Thereisnoescapeforhim,’saidPoirotgravely.‘Youneednotfear.’
‘It’sPatI’mthinkingaboutmostly,’saidJimmy.‘Youdon’tthink—shereallycared.’
‘Monami,thatisyourpart,’saidPoirotgently.‘Tomakeherturntoyouandforget.Idonotthinkyouwillfinditverydifficult!’
DoubleSin
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!’
Shestaredathimopen-mouthed,andhenoddedsapiently.
‘Butyes,itisasIsay.Whoknows?EvenIwhospeaktoyoumaybeamalefactoroftheworstdescription.’
Andhetwinkledmorethaneverathersurprisedface.
WestoppedforlunchatMonkhampton,and,afterafewwordswiththewaiter,Poirotmanagedtosecureusasmalltableforthreeclosebythewindow.Outside,inabigcourtyard,abouttwentychar-a-bancswereparked—char-a-bancswhichhadcomefromalloverthecountry.Thehoteldining-roomwasfull,andthenoisewasratherconsiderable.
‘Onecanhavealtogethertoomuchoftheholidayspirit,’Isaidwithagrimace.
MaryDurrantagreed.‘Ebermouthisquitespoiledinthesummersnowadays.Myauntsaysitusedtobequitedifferent.Nowonecanhardlygetalongthepavementsforthecrowd.’
‘Butitisgoodforbusiness,mademoiselle.’
‘Notforoursparticularly.Wesellonlyrareandvaluablethings.Wedonotgoinforcheapbric-a-brac.MyaunthasclientsalloverEngland.Iftheywantaparticularperiodtableorchair,oracertainpieceofchina,theywritetoher,and,soonerorlater,shegetsitforthem.Thatiswhathashappenedinthiscase.’
Welookedinterestedandshewentontoexplain.AcertainAmericangentleman,MrJ.BakerWood,wasaconnoisseurandcollectorofminiatures.Averyvaluablesetofminiatureshadrecentlycomeintothemarket,andMissElizabethPenn—Mary’saunt—hadpurchasedthem.ShehadwrittentoMrWooddescribingtheminiaturesandnamingaprice.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.IbelieveMrWoodalwayspaysforthingsincash.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.Itwouldbedoneinanopenandabove-boardmanner,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,wemustringupthepoliceandwemustalsogetintouchwithMrBakerWoodassoonaspossible.Iwillattendtothatmyself.’
Iwentwithhimandaskedwhathemeantbysayingitmightbetoolate.‘Moncher,IsaidtodaythatIwastheoppositeoftheconjurer—thatImakethedisappearingthingsreappear—butsupposesomeonehasbeenbeforehandwithme.Youdonotunderstand?Youwillinaminute.’
Hedisappearedintothetelephonebox.Hecameoutfiveminuteslaterlookingverygrave.‘ItisasIfeared.AladycalleduponMrWoodwiththeminiatureshalfanhourago.SherepresentedherselfascomingfromMissElizabethPenn.Hewasdelightedwiththeminiaturesandpaidforthemforthwith.’
‘Halfanhourago—beforewearrivedhere.’
Poirotsmiledratherenigmatically.‘TheSpeedycarsarequitespeedy,butafastmotorfrom,say,Monkhamptonwouldgethereagoodhouraheadofthematleast.’
‘Andwhatdowedonow?’
‘ThegoodHastings—alwayspractical.Weinformthepolice,doallwecanforMissDurrant,and—yes,Ithinkdecidedly,wehaveaninterviewwithMrJ.BakerWood.’
Wecarriedoutthisprogramme.PoorMaryDurrantwasterriblyupset,fearingherauntwouldblameher.
‘Whichsheprobablywill,’observedPoirot,aswesetoutfortheSeasideHotelwhereMrWoodwasstaying.‘Andwithperfectjustice.Theideaofleavingfivehundredpounds’worthofvaluablesinasuitcaseandgoingtolunch!Allthesame,monami,thereareoneortwocuriouspointsaboutthecase.Thatdespatchbox,forinstance,whywasitforced?’
‘Togetouttheminiatures.’
‘Butwasnotthatafoolishness?Sayourthiefistamperingwiththeluggageatlunch-timeunderthepretextofgettingouthisown.Surelyitismuchsimplertoopenthesuitcase,transferthedespatchcaseunopenedtohisownsuitcase,andgetaway,thantowastethetimeforcingthelock?’
‘Hehadtomakesuretheminiatureswereinside.’
Poirotdidnotlookconvinced,but,aswewerejustbeingshownintoMrWood’ssuite,wehadnotimeformorediscussion.
ItookanimmediatedisliketoMrBakerWood.
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.OurtravellingcompanioninthebrownsuitturnedouttobeaMrNortonKane.HehadgonestraighttotheGeorgeHotelatMonkhamptonandhadbeenthereduringtheafternoon.TheonlyevidenceagainsthimwasthatofMissDurrantwhodeclaredthatshehadseenhimgettingouthisluggagefromthecarwhilewewereatlunch.
‘Whichinitselfisnotasuspiciousact,’saidPoirotmeditatively.
Afterthatremark,helapsedintosilenceandrefusedtodiscussthematteranyfurther,sayingwhenIpressedhim,thathewasthinkingofmoustachesingeneral,andthatIshouldbewelladvisedtodothesame.
Idiscovered,however,thathehadaskedJosephAarons—withwhomhespenttheevening—togivehimeverydetailpossibleaboutMrBakerWood.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.HehadinterviewedMrNortonKane,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?MrBakerWoodhaspaidovergoodmoneyforstolengoods.TheminiatureswillbereturnedtoMissPenn.Shewillsellthemandwillhavemadeathousandpoundsinsteadoffivehundred.Imakethediscreetinquiriesandlearnthatherbusinessisinabadstate—touchandgo.Isaytomyself—theauntandnieceareinthistogether.’
‘ThenyouneversuspectedNortonKane?’
‘Monami!Withthatmoustache?Acriminaliseithercleanshavenorhehasapropermoustachethatcanberemovedatwill.ButwhatanopportunityforthecleverMissPenn—ashrinkingelderlyladywithapink-and-whitecomplexionaswesawher.Butifsheholdsherselferect,wearslargeboots,altershercomplexionwithafewunseemlyblotchesand—crowningtouch—addsafewsparsehairstoherupperlip.Whatthen?Amasculinewoman,saysMrWoodand“amanindisguise”sayweatonce.’
‘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.IwasreferringtoMrBakerWood—astrangertotheseshores.’Hisfacedarkened.‘Ah!WhenIthinkofthatimposition,thatiniquitousover-charge,thesamefaresingletoCharlockasreturn,mybloodboilstoprotectthevisitor!Notapleasantman,MrBakerWood,not,asyouwouldsay,sympathetic.Butavisitor!Andwevisitors,Hastings,muststandtogether.Me,Iamallforthevisitors!’
TheMarketBasingMystery
I
‘Afterall,there’snothinglikethecountry,isthere?’saidInspectorJapp,breathinginheavilythroughhisnoseandoutthroughhismouthinthemostapprovedfashion.
PoirotandIapplaudedthesentimentheartily.IthadbeentheScotlandYardinspector’sideathatweshouldallgofortheweekendtothelittlecountrytownofMarketBasing.Whenoffduty,Jappwasanardentbotanist,anddiscourseduponminuteflowerspossessedofunbelievablylengthyLatinnames(somewhatstrangelypronounced)withanenthusiasmevengreaterthanthathegavetohiscases.
‘Nobodyknowsus,andweknownobody,’explainedJapp.‘That’stheidea.’
Thiswasnottoprovequitethecase,however,forthelocalconstablehappenedtohavebeentransferredfromavillagefifteenmilesawaywhereacaseofarsenicalpoisoninghadbroughthimintocontactwiththeScotlandYardman.However,hisdelightedrecognitionofthegreatmanonlyenhancedJapp’ssenseofwell-being,andaswesatdowntobreakfastonSundaymorningintheparlourofthevillageinn,withthesunshining,andtendrilsofhoneysucklethrustingthemselvesinatthewindow,wewereallinthebestofspirits.Thebaconandeggswereexcellent,thecoffeenotsogood,butpassableandboilinghot
‘Thisisthelife,’saidJapp.‘WhenIretire,Ishallhavealittleplaceinthecountry.Farfromcrime,likethis!’
‘Lecrime,ilestpartout,’remarkedPoirot,helpinghimselftoaneatsquareofbread,andfrowningatasparrowwhichhadbalanceditselfimpertinentlyonthewindowsill.
Iquotedlightly:
‘Thatrabbithasapleasantface,HisprivatelifeisadisgraceIreallycouldnottelltoyouTheawfulthingsthatrabbitsdo.’
‘Lord,’saidJapp,stretchinghimselfbackward,‘IbelieveIcouldmanageanotheregg,andperhapsarasherortwoofbacon.Whatdoyousay,Captain?’
‘I’mwithyou,’Ireturnedheartily.‘Whataboutyou,Poirot?’
Poirotshookhishead.
‘Onemustnotsoreplenishthestomachthatthebrainrefusestofunction,’heremarked.
‘I’llriskreplenishingthestomachabitmore,’laughedJapp.‘Itakealargesizeinstomachs;andbytheway,you’regettingstoutyourself,M.Poirot.Here,miss,eggsandbacontwice.’
Atthatmoment,however,animposingformblockedthedoorway.ItwasConstablePollard.
‘Ihopeyou’llexcusemetroublingtheinspector,gentlemen,butI’dbegladofhisadvice.’
‘I’monholiday,’saidJapphastily.‘Noworkforme.Whatisthecase?’
‘GentlemanupatLeighHouse—shothimself—throughthehead.’
‘Well,theywilldoit,’saidJappprosaically.‘Debt,orawoman,Isuppose.SorryIcan’thelpyou,Pollard.’
‘Thepointis,’saidtheconstable,‘thathecan’thaveshothimself.Leastways,that’swhatDrGilessays.’
Jappputdownhiscup.
‘Can’thaveshothimself?Whatdoyoumean?’
‘That’swhatDrGilessays,’repeatedPollard.‘Hesaysit’splumbimpossible.He’spuzzledtodeath,thedoorbeinglockedontheinsideandthewindowsbolted;buthestickstoitthatthemancouldn’thavecommittedsuicide.’
Thatsettledit.Thefurthersupplyofbaconandeggswaswavedaside,andafewminuteslaterwewereallwalkingasfastaswecouldinthedirectionofLeighHouse,Jappeagerlyquestioningtheconstable.
ThenameofthedeceasedwasWalterProtheroe;hewasamanofmiddleageandsomethingofarecluse.HehadcometoMarketBasingeightyearsagoandrentedLeighHouse,arambling,dilapidatedoldmansionfastfallingintoruin.Helivedinacornerofit,hiswantsattendedtobyahousekeeperwhomhehadbroughtwithhim.MissCleggwashername,andshewasaverysuperiorwomanandhighlythoughtofinthevillage.JustlatelyMrProtheroehadhadvisitorsstayingwithhim,aMrandMrsParkerfromLondon.Thismorning,unabletogetareplywhenshewenttocallhermaster,andfindingthedoorlocked,MissCleggbecamealarmed,andtelephonedforthepoliceandthedoctor.ConstablePollardandDrGileshadarrivedatthesamemoment.Theirunitedeffortshadsucceededinbreakingdowntheoakdoorofhisbedroom.
MrProtheroewaslyingonthefloor,shotthroughthehead,andthepistolwasclaspedinhisrighthand.Itlookedaclearcaseofsuicide.
Afterexaminingthebody,however,DrGilesbecameclearlyperplexed,andfinallyhedrewtheconstableaside,andcommunicatedhisperplexitiestohim;whereuponPollardhadatoncethoughtofJapp.Leavingthedoctorincharge,hehadhurrieddowntotheinn.
Bythetimetheconstable’srecitalwasover,wehadarrivedatLeighHouse,abig,desolatehousesurroundedbyanunkempt,weed-riddengarden.Thefrontdoorwasopen,andwepassedatonceintothehallandfromthereintoasmallmorning-roomwhenceproceededthesoundofvoices.Fourpeoplewereintheroom:asomewhatflashilydressedmanwithashifty,unpleasantfacetowhomItookanimmediatedislike;awomanofmuchthesametype,thoughhandsomeinacoarsefashion;anotherwomandressedinneatblackwhostoodapartfromtherest,andwhomItooktobethehousekeeper;andatallmandressedinsportingtweeds,withaclever,capableface,andwhowasclearlyincommandofthesituation.
‘DrGiles,’saidtheconstable,‘thisisDetective-InspectorJappofScotlandYard,andhistwofriends.’
ThedoctorgreetedusandmadeusknowntoMrandMrsParker.Thenweaccompaniedthemupstairs.Pollard,inobediencetoasignfromJapp,remainedbelow,asitwereonguardoverthehousehold.Thedoctorledusupstairsandalongapassage.Adoorwasopenattheend;splintershungfromthehinges,andthedooritselfhadcrashedtothefloorinsidetheroom.
Wewentin.Thebodywasstilllyingonthefloor.MrProtheroehadbeenamanofmiddleage,bearded,withhairgreyatthetemples.Jappwentandkneltbythebody.
‘Whycouldn’tyouleaveitasyoufoundit?’hegrumbled.
Thedoctorshruggedhisshoulders.
‘Wethoughtitaclearcaseofsuicide.’
‘H’m!’saidJapp.‘Bulletenteredtheheadbehindtheleftear.’
‘Exactly,’saidthedoctor.‘Clearlyimpossibleforhimtohavefiredithimself.He’dhavehadtotwisthishandrightroundhishead.Itcouldn’thavebeendone.’
‘Yetyoufoundthepistolclaspedinhishand?Whereisit,bytheway?’
Thedoctornoddedtothetable.
‘Butitwasn’tclaspedinhishand,’hesaid.‘Itwasinsidethehand,butthefingersweren’tclosedoverit.’
‘Putthereafterwards,’saidJapp;‘that’sclearenough.’Hewasexaminingtheweapon.‘Onecartridgefired.We’lltestitforfingerprints,butIdoubtifwe’llfindanybutyours,DrGiles.Howlonghashebeendead?’
‘Sometimelastnight.Ican’tgivethetimetoanhourorso,asthosewonderfuldoctorsindetectivestoriesdo.Roughly,he’sbeendeadabouttwelvehours.’
Sofar,Poirothadnotmadeamoveofanykind.Hehadremainedbymyside,watchingJappatworkandlisteningtohisquestions.Only,fromtimetotime,hehadsniffedtheairverydelicately,andasifpuzzled.Itoohadsniffed,butcoulddetectnothingtoarouseinterest.Theairseemedperfectlyfreshanddevoidofodour.Andyet,fromtimetotime,Poirotcontinuedtosniffitdubiously,asthoughhiskeenernosedetectedsomethingIhadmissed.
Now,asJappmovedawayfromthebody,Poirotkneltdownbyit.Hetooknointerestinthewound.Ithoughtatfirstthathewasexaminingthefingersofthehandthathadheldthepistol,butinaminuteIsawthatitwasahandkerchiefcarriedinthecoat-sleevethatinterestedhim.MrProtheroewasdressedinadarkgreylounge-suit.FinallyPoirotgotupfromhisknees,buthiseyesstillstrayedbacktothehandkerchiefasthoughpuzzled.
Jappcalledtohimtocomeandhelptoliftthedoor.Seizingmyopportunity,Itookneltdown,andtakingthehandkerchieffromthesleeve,scrutinizeditminutely.Itwasaperfectlyplainhandkerchiefofwhitecambric;therewasnomarkorstainonitofanykind.Ireplacedit,shakingmyheadandconfessingmyselfbaffled.
Theothershadraisedthedoor.Irealizedthattheywerehuntingforthekey.Theylookedinvain.
‘Thatsettlesit,’saidJapp.‘Thewindow’sshutandbolted.Themurdererleftbythedoor,lockingitandtakingthekeywithhim.HethoughtitwouldbeacceptedthatProtheroehadlockedhimselfinandshothimself,andthattheabsenceofthekeywouldnotbenoticed.Youagree,M.Poirot?’
‘Iagree,yes;butitwouldhavebeensimplerandbettertoslipthekeybackinsidetheroomunderthedoor.Thenitwouldlookasthoughithadfallenfromthelock.’
‘Ah,well,youcan’texpecteverybodytohavethebrightideasthatyouhave.You’dhavebeenaholyterrorifyou’dtakentocrime.Anyremarkstomake,M.Poirot?’
Poirot,itseemedtome,wassomewhatataloss.Helookedroundtheroomandremarkedmildlyandalmostapologetically:‘Hesmokedalot,thismonsieur.’
Trueenough,thegratewasfilledwithcigarette-stubs,aswasanashtraythatstoodonasmalltablenearthebigarmchair.
‘Hemusthavegotthroughabouttwentycigaretteslastnight,’remarkedJapp.Stoopingdown,heexaminedthecontentsofthegratecarefully,thentransferredhisattentiontotheashtray.‘They’reallthesamekind,’heannounced,‘andsmokedbythesameman.There’snothingthere,M.Poirot.’
‘Ididnotsuggestthattherewas,’murmuredmyfriend.
‘Ha,’criedJapp,‘what’sthis?’Hepouncedonsomethingbrightandglitteringthatlayonthefloornearthedeadman.‘Abrokencuff-link.Iwonderwhothisbelongsto.DrGiles,I’dbeobligedifyou’dgodownandsendupthehousekeeper.’
‘WhatabouttheParkers?He’sveryanxioustoleavethehouse—sayshe’sgoturgentbusinessinLondon.’
‘Idaresay.It’llhavetogetonwithouthim.Bythewaythingsaregoing,it’slikelythatthere’llbesomeurgentbusinessdownhereforhimtoattendto!Sendupthehousekeeper,anddon’tleteitheroftheParkersgiveyouandPollardtheslip.Didanyofthehouseholdcomeinherethismorning?’
Thedoctorreflected.
‘No,theystoodoutsideinthecorridorwhilePollardandIcamein.’
‘Sureofthat?’
‘Absolutelycertain.’
Thedoctordepartedonhismission.
‘Goodman,that,’saidJappapprovingly.‘Someofthesesportingdoctorsarefirst-classfellows.Well,Iwonderwhoshotthischap.Itlookslikeoneofthethreeinthehouse.Ihardlysuspectthehousekeeper.She’shadeightyearstoshoothiminifshewantedto.IwonderwhotheseParkersare?They’renotaprepossessing-lookingcouple.’
MissCleggappearedatthisjuncture.Shewasathin,gauntwomanwithneatgreyhairpartedinthemiddle,verystaidandcalminmanner.Neverthelesstherewasanairofefficiencyaboutherwhichcommandedrespect.InanswertoJapp’squestions,sheexplainedthatshehadbeenwiththedeadmanforfourteenyears.Hehadbeenagenerousandconsideratemaster.ShehadneverseenMrandMrsParkeruntilthreedaysago,whentheyarrivedunexpectedlytostay.Shewasoftheopinionthattheyhadaskedthemselves—themasterhadcertainlynotseemedpleasedtoseethem.Thecuff-linkswhichJappshowedherhadnotbelongedtoMrProtheroe—shewassureofthat.Questionedaboutthepistol,shesaidthatshebelievedhermasterhadaweaponofthatkind.Hekeptitlockedup.Shehadseenitoncesomeyearsago,butcouldnotsaywhetherthiswasthesameone.Shehadheardnoshotlastnight,butthatwasnotsurprising,asitwasabig,ramblinghouse,andherroomsandthosepreparedfortheParkerswereattheotherendofthebuilding.ShedidnotknowwhattimeMrProtheroehadgonetobed—hewasstillupwhensheretiredathalfpastnine.Itwasnothishabittogoatoncetobedwhenhewenttohisroom.Usuallyhewouldsituphalfthenight,readingandsmoking.Hewasagreatsmoker.
ThenPoirotinterposedaquestion:
‘Didyourmastersleepwithhiswindowopenorshut,asarule?’
MissCleggconsidered.
‘Itwasusuallyopen,atanyrateatthetop.’
‘Yetnowitisclosed.Canyouexplainthat?’
‘No,unlesshefeltadraughtandshutit.’
Jappaskedherafewmorequestionsandthendismissedher.NextheinterviewedtheParkersseparately.MrsParkerwasinclinedtobehystericalandtearful;MrParkerwasfullofblusterandabuse.Hedeniedthatthecuff-linkwashis,butashiswifehadpreviouslyrecognizedit,thishardlyimprovedmattersforhim;andashehadalsodeniedeverhavingbeeninProtheroe’sroom,Jappconsideredthathehadsufficientevidencetoapplyforawarrant.
LeavingPollardincharge,Jappbustledbacktothevillageandgotintotelephoniccommunicationwithheadquarters.PoirotandIstrolledbacktotheinn.
‘You’reunusuallyquiet,’Isaid.‘Doesn’tthecaseinterestyou?’
‘Aucontraire,itinterestsmeenormously.Butitpuzzlesmealso.’
‘Themotiveisobscure,’Isaidthoughtfully,‘butI’mcertainthatParker’sabadlot.Thecaseagainsthimseemsprettyclearbutforthelackofmotive,andthatmaycomeoutlater.’
‘Nothingstruckyouasbeingespeciallysignificant,althoughoverlookedbyJapp?’
Ilookedathimcuriously.
‘Whathaveyougotupyoursleeve,Poirot?’
‘Whatdidthedeadmanhaveuphissleeve?’
‘Oh,thathandkerchief!’
‘Exactly,thathandkerchief.’
‘Asailorcarrieshishandkerchiefinhissleeve,’Isaidthoughtfully.
‘Anexcellentpoint,Hastings,thoughnottheoneIhadinmind.’
‘Anythingelse?’
‘Yes,overandoveragainIgobacktothesmellofcigarette-smoke.’
‘Ididn’tsmellany,’Icriedwonderingly.
‘NomoredidI,cherami.’
Ilookedearnestlyathim.ItissodifficulttoknowwhenPoirotispullingone’sleg,butheseemedthoroughlyinearnestandwasfrowningtohimself.
II
Theinquesttookplacetwodayslater.Inthemeantimeotherevidencehadcometolight.AtramphadadmittedthathehadclimbedoverthewallintotheLeighHousegarden,whereheoftensleptinashedthatwasleftunlocked.Hedeclaredthatattwelveo’clockhehadheardtwomenquarrellingloudlyinaroomonthefirstfloor.Onewasdemandingasumofmoney;theotherwasangrilyrefusing.Concealedbehindabush,hehadseenthetwomenastheypassedandrepassedthelightedwindow.OneheknewwellasbeingMrProtheroe,theownerofthehouse;theotherheidentifiedpositivelyasMrParker.
ItwasclearnowthattheParkershadcometoLeighHousetoblackmailProtheroe,andwhenlateritwasdiscoveredthatthedeadman’srealnamewasWendover,andthathehadbeenalieutenantintheNavyandhadbeenconcernedintheblowingupofthefirst-classcruiserMerrythought,in1910,thecaseseemedtoberapidlyclearing.ItwassupposedthatParker,cognizantofthepartWendoverhadplayed,hadtrackedhimdownanddemandedhush-moneywhichtheotherrefusedtopay.Inthecourseofthequarrel,Wendoverdrewhisrevolver,andParkersnatcheditfromhimandshothim,subsequentlyendeavouringtogiveittheappearanceofsuicide.
Parkerwascommittedfortrial,reservinghisdefence.Wehadattendedthepolice-courtproceedings.Asweleft,Poirotnoddedhishead.
‘Itmustbeso,’hemurmuredtohimself.‘Yes,itmustbeso.Iwilldelaynolonger.’
Hewentintothepostoffice,andwroteoffanotewhichhedespatchedbyspecialmessenger.Ididnotseetowhomitwasaddressed.Thenwereturnedtotheinnwherewehadstayedonthatmemorableweekend.
Poirotwasrestless,goingtoandfromthewindow.
‘Iawaitavisitor,’heexplained.‘Itcannotbe—surelyitcannotbethatIammistaken?No,heresheis.’
Tomyutterastonishment,inanotherminuteMissCleggwalkedintotheroom.Shewaslesscalmthanusual,andwasbreathinghardasthoughshehadbeenrunning.IsawthefearinhereyesasshelookedatPoirot.
‘Sitdown,mademoiselle,’hesaidkindly.‘Iguessedrightly,didInot?’
Foranswersheburstintotears.
‘Whydidyoudoit?’askedPoirotgently.‘Why?’
‘Ilovedhimso,’sheanswered.‘Iwasnursemaidtohimwhenhewasalittleboy.Oh,bemercifultome!’
‘IwilldoallIcan.ButyouunderstandthatIcannotpermitaninnocentmantohang—eventhoughheisanunpleasingscoundrel.’
Shesatupandsaidinalowvoice:‘PerhapsintheendIcouldnothave,either.Dowhatevermustbedone.’
Then,rising,shehurriedfromtheroom
‘Didsheshoothim?’Iaskedutterlybewildered.
Poirotsmiledandshookhishead.
‘Heshothimself.Doyourememberthathecarriedhishandkerchiefinhisrightsleeve?Thatshowedmethathewasleft-handed.Fearingexposure,afterhisstormyinterviewwithMrParker,heshothimself.InthemorningMissCleggcametocallhimasusualandfoundhimlyingdead.Asshehasjusttoldus,shehadknownhimfromalittleboyupward,andwasfilledwithfuryagainsttheParkers,whohaddrivenhimtothisshamefuldeath.Sheregardedthemasmurderers,andthensuddenlyshesawachanceofmakingthemsufferforthedeedtheyhadinspired.Shealoneknewthathewasleft-handed.Shechangedthepistoltohisrighthand,closedandboltedthewindow,droppedthebitofcuff-linkshehadpickedupinoneofthedownstairsrooms,andwentout,lockingthedoorandremovingthekey.’
‘Poirot,’Isaid,inaburstofenthusiasm,‘youaremagnificent.Allthatfromtheonelittleclueofthehandkerchief.’
‘Andthecigarette-smoke.Ifthewindowhadbeenclosed,andallthosecigarettessmoked,theroomoughttohavebeenfullofstaletobacco.Instead,itwasperfectlyfresh,soIdeducedatoncethatthewindowmusthavebeenopenallnight,andonlyclosedinthemorning,andthatgavemeaveryinterestinglineofspeculation.Icouldconceiveofnocircumstancesunderwhichamurderercouldwanttoshutthewindow.Itwouldbetohisadvantagetoleaveitopen,andpretendthatthemurdererhadescapedthatway,ifthetheoryofsuicidedidnotgodown.Ofcourse,thetramp’sevidence,whenIheardit,confirmedmysuspicions.Hecouldneverhaveoverheardthatconversationunlessthewindowhadbeenopen.’
‘Splendid!’Isaidheartily.‘Now,whataboutsometea?’
‘SpokenlikeatrueEnglishman,’saidPoirotwithasigh.‘IsupposeitisnotlikelythatIcouldobtainhereaglassofsirop?’
Wasps’Nest
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.Ishallneedyourco-operation.’
‘Isthatwhyyoucamedownhere?’
AgainPoirotlookedathim,andagainanindefinablesomethingmadeHarrisonuneasy.
‘Icamehere,MonsieurHarrisonbecauseI—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.’
TheVeiledLady
I
IhadnoticedthatforsometimePoirothadbeengrowingincreasinglydissatisfiedandrestless.Wehadhadnointerestingcasesoflate,nothingonwhichmylittlefriendcouldexercisehiskeenwitsandremarkablepowersofdeduction.Thismorningheflungdownthenewspaperwithanimpatient‘Tchah!’—afavouriteexclamationofhiswhichsoundedexactlylikeacatsneezing
‘Theyfearme,Hastings;thecriminalsofyourEnglandtheyfearme!Whenthecatisthere,thelittlemice,theycomenomoretothecheese!’
‘Idon’tsupposethegreaterpartofthemevenknowofyourexistence,’Isaid,laughing.
Poirotlookedatmereproachfully.HealwaysimaginesthatthewholeworldisthinkingandtalkingofHerculePoirot.HehadcertainlymadeanameforhimselfinLondon,butIcouldhardlybelievethathisexistencestruckterrorintothecriminalworld.
‘WhataboutthatdaylightrobberyofjewelsinBondStreettheotherday?’Iasked.
‘Aneatcoup,’saidPoirotapprovingly,‘thoughnotinmyline.Pasdefinesse,seulementdel’audace!Amanwithaloadedcanesmashestheplate-glasswindowofajeweller’sshopandgrabsanumberofpreciousstones.Worthycitizensimmediatelyseizehim;apolicemanarrives.Heiscaughtred-handedwiththejewelsonhim.Heismarchedofftothepolice,andthenitisdiscoveredthatthestonesarepaste.Hehaspassedtherealonestoaconfederate—oneoftheaforementionedworthycitizens.Hewillgotoprison—true;butwhenhecomesout,therewillbeanicelittlefortuneawaitinghim.Yes,notbadlyimagined.ButIcoulddobetterthanthat.Sometimes,Hastings,IregretthatIamofsuchamoraldisposition.Toworkagainstthelaw,itwouldbepleasing,forachange.’
‘Cheerup,Poirot;youknowyouareuniqueinyourownline.’
‘Butwhatisthereonhandinmyownline?’
Ipickedupthepaper.
‘Here’sanEnglishmanmysteriouslydonetodeathinHolland,’Isaid.
‘Theyalwayssaythat—andlatertheyfindthatheatethetinnedfishandthathisdeathisperfectlynatural.’
‘Well,ifyou’redeterminedtogrouse!’
‘Tiens!’saidPoirot,whohadstrolledacrosstothewindow.‘Hereinthestreetiswhattheycallinnovelsa“heavilyveiledlady”.Shemountsthesteps;sheringsthebell—shecomestoconsultus.Hereisapossibilityofsomethinginteresting.Whenoneisasyoungandprettyasthatone,onedoesnotveilthefaceexceptforabigaffair.’
Aminutelaterourvisitorwasusheredin.AsPoirothadsaid,shewasindeedheavilyveiled.ItwasimpossibletodistinguishherfeaturesuntilsheraisedherveilofblackSpanishlace.ThenIsawthatPoirot’sintuitionhadbeenright;theladywasextremelypretty,withfairhairandblueeyes.Fromthecostlysimplicityofherattire,Ideducedatoncethatshebelongedtotheupperstrataofsociety.
‘MonsieurPoirot,’saidtheladyinasoft,musicalvoice,‘Iamingreattrouble.Icanhardlybelievethatyoucanhelpme,butIhaveheardsuchwonderfulthingsofyouthatIcomeliterallyasthelasthopetobegyoutodotheimpossible.’
‘Theimpossible,itpleasesmealways,’saidPoirot.‘Continue,Ibegofyou,mademoiselle.’
Ourfairguesthesitated.
‘Butyoumustbefrank,’addedPoirot.‘Youmustnotleavemeinthedarkonanypoint.’
‘Iwilltrustyou,’saidthegirlsuddenly.‘YouhaveheardofLadyMillicentCastleVaughan?’
Ilookedupwithkeeninterest.TheannouncementofLadyMillicent’sengagementtotheyoungDukeofSouthshirehadappearedafewdayspreviously.Shewas,Iknew,thefifthdaughterofanimpecuniousIrishpeer,andtheDukeofSouthshirewasoneofthebestmatchesinEngland.
‘IamLadyMillicent,’continuedthegirl.‘Youmayhavereadofmyengagement.Ishouldbeoneofthehappiestgirlsalive;butoh,M.Poirot,Iaminterribletrouble!Thereisaman,ahorribleman—hisnameisLavington;andhe—Ihardlyknowhowtotellyou.TherewasaletterIwrote—Iwasonlysixteenatthetime;andhe—he—’
‘AletterthatyouwrotetothisMrLavington?’
‘Ohno—nottohim!Toayoungsoldier—Iwasveryfondofhim—hewaskilledinthewar.’
Iunderstand,’saidPoirotkindly.
‘Itwasafoolishletter,anindiscreetletter,butindeed,M.Poirot,nothingmore.Buttherearephrasesinitwhich—whichmightbearadifferentinterpretation.’
‘Isee,’saidPoirot.‘AndthisletterhascomeintothepossessionofMrLavington?’
‘Yes,andhethreatens,unlessIpayhimanenormoussumofmoney,asumthatisquiteimpossibleformetoraise,tosendittotheDuke.’
‘Thedirtyswine!’Iejaculated.‘Ibegyourpardon,LadyMillicent.’
‘Woulditnotbewisertoconfessalltoyourfuturehusband?’
‘Idarenot,M.Poirot.TheDukeisaratherpeculiarcharacter,jealousandsuspiciousandpronetobelievetheworst.Imightaswellbreakoffmyengagementatonce.’
‘Dear,dear,’saidPoirotwithanexpressivegrimace.‘Andwhatdoyouwantmetodo,milady?’
‘IthoughtperhapsthatImightaskMrLavingtontocalluponyou.Iwouldtellhimthatyouwereempoweredbymetodiscussthematter.Perhapsyoucouldreducehisdemands.’
‘Whatsumdoeshemention?’
‘Twentythousandpounds—animpossibility.IdoubtifIcouldraiseathousand,even.’
‘Youmightperhapsborrowthemoneyontheprospectofyourapproachingmarriage—butIdoubtifyoucouldgetholdofhalfthatsum.Besides—ehbien,itisrepungnanttomethatyoushouldpay!No,theingenuityofHerculePoirotshalldefeatyourenemies!SendmethisMrLavington.Ishelikelytobringtheletterwithhim?’
Thegirlshookherhead.
‘Idonotthinkso.Heisverycautious.’
‘Isupposethereisnodoubtthathereallyhasit?’
‘HeshowedittomewhenIwenttohishouse.’
‘Youwenttohishouse?Thatwasveryimprudent,milady.’
‘Wasit?Iwassodesperate.Ihopedmyentreatiesmightmovehim.’
‘Oh,làlà!TheLavingtonsofthisworldarenotmovedbyentreaties!Hewouldwelcomethemasshowinghowmuchimportanceyouattachedtothedocument.Wheredoeshelive,thisfinegentleman?’
‘AtBuonaVista,Wimbledon.Iwentthereafterdark—’Poirotgroaned.‘IdeclaredthatIwouldinformthepoliceintheend,butheonlylaughedinahorrid,sneeringmanner.“Byallmeans,mydearLadyMillicent,dosoifyouwish,”hesaid.’
‘Yes,itishardlyanaffairforthepolice,’murmuredPoirot.
‘“ButIthinkyouwillbewiserthanthat,”hecontinued.“See,hereisyourletter—inthislittleChinesepuzzlebox!”HehelditsothatIcouldsee.Itriedtosnatchatit,buthewastooquickforme.Withahorridsmilehefoldeditupandreplaceditinthelittlewoodenbox.“Itwillbequitesafehere,Iassureyou,”hesaid,“andtheboxitselflivesinsuchacleverplacethatyouwouldneverfindit.”Myeyesturnedtothesmallwall-safe,andheshookhisheadandlaughed.“Ihaveabettersafethanthat,”hesaid.Oh,hewasodious!M.Poirot,doyouthinkthatyoucanhelpme?’
‘HavefaithinPapaPoirot.Iwillfindaway.’
Thesereassuranceswereallverywell,Ithought,asPoirotgallantlyusheredhisfairclientdownthestairs,butitseemedtomethatwehadatoughnuttocrack.IsaidasmuchtoPoirotwhenhereturned.Henoddedruefully.
‘Yes—thesolutiondoesnotleaptotheeye.Hehasthewhiphand,thisM.Lavington.ForthemomentIdonotseehowwearetocircumventhim.’
II
MrLavingtondulycalleduponusthatafternoon.LadyMillicenthadspokentrulywhenshedescribedhimasanodiousman.Ifeltapositivetinglingintheendofmyboot,sokeenwasItokickhimdownthestairs.Hewasblusteringandoverbearinginmanner,laughedPoirot’sgentlesuggestionstoscorn,andgenerallyshowedhimselfasmasterofthesituation.IcouldnothelpfeelingthatPoirotwashardlyappearingathisbest.Helookeddiscouragedandcrestfallen.
‘Well,gentlemen,’saidLavington,ashetookuphishat,‘wedon’tseemtobegettingmuchfurther.Thecasestandslikethis:I’lllettheLadyMillicentoffcheap,assheissuchacharmingyounglady.’Heleeredodiously.‘We’llsayeighteenthousand.I’mofftoParistoday—alittlepieceofbusinesstoattendtooverthere.IshallbebackonTuesday.UnlessthemoneyispaidbyTuesdayevening,thelettergoestotheDuke.Don’ttellmeLadyMillicentcan’traisethemoney.Someofhergentlemenfriendswouldbeonlytoowillingtoobligesuchaprettywomanwithaloan—ifshegoestherightwayaboutit.’
Myfaceflushed,andItookastepforward,butLavingtonhadwheeledoutoftheroomashefinishedhissentence.
‘MyGod!’Icried.‘Somethinghasgottobedone.Youseemtobetakingthislyingdown,Poirot.’
‘Youhaveanexcellentheart,myfriend—butyourgreycellsareinadeplorablecondition.IhavenowishtoimpressMrLavingtonwithmycapabilities.Themorepusillanimoushethinksme,thebetter.’
‘Why?’
‘Itiscurious,’murmuredPoirotreminiscently,‘thatIshouldhaveutteredawishtoworkagainstthelawjustbeforeLadyMillicentarrived!’
‘Youaregoingtoburglehishousewhileheisaway?’Igasped.
‘Sometimes,Hastings,yourmentalprocessesareamazinglyquick.’
‘Supposehetakestheletterwithhim?’
Poirotshookhishead.
‘Thatisveryunlikely.Hehasevidentlyahiding-placeinhishousethathefanciestobeprettyimpregnable.’
‘Whendowe—er—dothedeed?’
‘Tomorrownight.Wewillstartfromhereabouteleveno’clock.’
III
AtthetimeappointedIwasreadytosetoff.Ihaddonnedadarksuit,andasoftdarkhat.Poirotbeamedkindlyonme.
‘Youhavedressedthepart,Isee,’heobserved.‘ComeletustaketheundergroundtoWimbledon.’
‘Aren’twegoingtotakeanythingwithus?Toolstobreakinwith?’
‘MydearHastings,HerculePoirotdoesnotadoptsuchcrudemethods.’
Iretired,snubbed,butmycuriositywasalert.
ItwasjustonmidnightthatweenteredthesmallsuburbangardenofBuonaVista.Thehousewasdarkandsilent.Poirotwentstraighttoawindowatthebackofthehouse,raisedthesashnoiselesslyandbademeenter.
‘Howdidyouknowthiswindowwouldbeopen?’Iwhispered,forreallyitseemeduncanny.
‘BecauseIsawedthroughthecatchthismorning.’
‘What?’
‘Butyes,itwasmostsimple.Icalled,presentedafictitiouscardandoneofInspectorJapp’sofficialones.IsaidIhadbeensent,recommendedbyScotlandYard,toattendtosomeburglar-prooffasteningsthatMrLavingtonwantedfixedwhilehewasaway.Thehousekeeperwelcomedmewithenthusiasm.Itseemstheyhavehadtwoattemptedburglariesherelately—evidentlyourlittleideahasoccurredtootherclientsofMrLavington’s—withnothingofvaluetaken.Iexaminedallthewindows,mademylittlearrangement,forbadetheservantstotouchthewindowsuntiltomorrow,astheywereelectricallyconnectedup,andwithdrewgracefully.’
‘Really,Poirot,youarewonderful.’
‘Monami,itwasofthesimplest.Now,towork!Theservantssleepatthetopofthehouse,sowewillrunlittleriskofdisturbingthem.’
‘Ipresumethesafeisbuiltintothewallsomewhere?’
‘Safe?Fiddlesticks!Thereisnosafe.MrLavingtonisanintelligentman.Youwillsee,hewillhavedevisedahiding-placemuchmoreintelligentthanasafe.Asafeisthefirstthingeveryonelooksfor.’
Whereuponwebeganasystematicsearchoftheentireplace.Butafterseveralhours’ransackingofthehouse,oursearchhadbeenunavailing.IsawsymptomsofangergatheringonPoirot’sface.
‘Ah,sapristi,isHerculePoirottobebeaten?Never!Letusbecalm.Letusreflect.Letusreason.Letus—enfin!—employourlittlegreycells!’
Hepausedforsomemoments,bendinghisbrowsinconcentration;thenthegreenlightIknewsowellstoleintohiseyes.
‘Ihavebeenanimbecile!Thekitchen!’
‘Thekitchen,’Icried.‘Butthat’simpossible.Theservants!’
‘Exactly.Justwhatninety-ninepeopleoutofahundredwouldsay!Andforthatveryreasonthekitchenistheidealplacetochoose.Itisfullofvarioushomelyobjects.Enavant,tothekitchen!’
Ifollowedhim,completelysceptical,andwatchedwhilsthedivedintobread-bins,tappedsaucepans,andputhisheadintothegas-oven.Intheend,tiredofwatchinghim,Istrolledbacktothestudy.Iwasconvincedthatthere,andthereonly,wouldwefindthecache.Imadeafurtherminutesearch,notedthatitwasnowaquarterpastfourandthatthereforeitwouldsoonbegrowinglight,andthenwentbacktothekitchenregions.
Tomyutteramazement,Poirotwasnowstandingrightinsidethecoal-bin,totheutterruinofhisneatlightsuit.Hemadeagrimace.
‘Butyes,myfriend,itisagainstallmyinstinctssotoruinmyappearance,butwhatwillyou?’
‘ButLavingtoncan’thaveburieditunderthecoal?’
‘Ifyouwoulduseyoureyes,youwouldseethatitisnotthecoalthatIexamine.’
Ithensawonashelfbehindthecoal-bunkersomelogsofwoodwerepiled.Poirotwasdexterouslytakingthemdownonebyone.Suddenlyheutteredalowexclamation.
‘Yourknife,Hastings!’
Ihandedittohim.Heappearedtoinsetitinthewood,andsuddenlythelogsplitintwo.Ithadbeenneatlysawninhalfandacavityhollowedoutinthecentre.FromthiscavityPoirottookalittlewoodenboxofChinesemake.
‘Welldone!’Icried,carriedoutofmyself.
‘Gently,Hastings!Donotraiseyourvoicetoomuch.Come,letusbeoff,beforethedaylightisuponus.’
Slippingtheboxintohispocket,heleapedlightlyoutofthecoal-bunker,brushedhimselfdownaswellashecould,andleavingthehousebythesamewayaswehadcome,wewalkedrapidlyinthedirectionofLondon.
‘Butwhatanextraordinaryplace!’Iexpostulated.‘Anyonemighthaveusedthelog.’
‘InJuly,Hastings?Anditwasatthebottomofthepile—averyingenioushiding-place.Ah,hereisataxi!Nowforhome,awash,andarefreshingsleep.’
IV
Aftertheexcitementofthenight,Isleptlate.WhenIfinallystrolledintooursitting-roomjustbeforeoneo’clock,IwassurprisedtoseePoirot,leaningbackinanarmchair,theChineseboxopenbesidehim,calmlyreadingtheletterhehadtakenfromit.
Hesmiledatmeaffectionately,andtappedthesheetheheld.
‘Shewasright,theLadyMillicent;neverwouldtheDukehavepardonedthisletter!ItcontainssomeofthemostextravaganttermsofaffectionIhaveevercomeacross.’
‘Really,Poirot,’Isaid,ratherdisgustedly,‘Idon’tthinkyoushouldhavereadtheletter.‘That’sthesortofthingthatisn’tdone.’
‘ItisdonebyHerculePoirot,’repliedmyfriendimperturbably.
‘Andanotherthing,’Isaid.‘Idon’tthinkusingJapp’sofficialcardyesterdaywasquiteplayingthegame.’
‘ButIwasnotplayingagame,Hastings.Iwasconductingacase.’
Ishruggedmyshoulders.Onecan’targuewithapointofview.
‘Asteponthestairs,’saidPoirot.‘ThatwillbeLadyMillicent.’
OurfairclientcameinwithananxiousexpressiononherfacewhichchangedtooneofdelightonseeingtheletterandboxwhichPoirotheldup.
‘Oh,M.Poirot.Howwonderfulofyou!Howdidyoudoit?’
‘Byratherreprehensiblemethods,milady.ButMrLavingtonwillnotprosecute.Thisisyourletter,isitnot?’
Sheglancedthroughit.
‘Yes.Oh,howcanIeverthankyou!Youareawonderful,wonderfulman.Wherewasithidden?’
Poirottoldher.
‘Howverycleverofyou!’Shetookupthesmallboxfromthetable.‘Ishallkeepthisasasouvenir.’
‘Ihadhoped,milady,thatyouwouldpermitmetokeepit—alsoasasouvenir.’
‘Ihopetosendyouabettersouvenirthanthat—onmywedding-day.Youshallnotfindmeungrateful,M.Poirot.’
‘Thepleasureofdoingyouaservicewillbemoretomethanacheque—soyoupermitthatIretainthebox.’
‘Ohno,M.Poirot,Isimplymusthavethat,’shecriedlaughingly.
Shestretchedoutherhand,butPoirotwasbeforeher.Hishandclosedoverit
‘Ithinknot.’Hisvoicehadchanged.
‘Whatdoyoumean?’Hervoiceseemedtohavegrownsharper.
‘Atanyrate,permitmetoabstractitsfurthercontents.Youobservedthattheoriginalcavityhasbeenreducedbyhalf.Inthetophalf,thecompromisingletter;inthebottom—’
Hemadeanimblegesture,thenheldouthishand.Onthepalmwerefourlargeglitteringstones,andtwobigmilkywhitepearls.
‘ThejewelsstoleninBondStreettheotherday,Iratherfancy,’murmuredPoirot.‘Jappwilltellus.’
Tomyutteramazement,JapphimselfsteppedoutfromPoirot’sbedroom.
‘Anoldfriendofyours,Ibelieve,’saidPoirotpolitelytoLadyMillicent.
‘Nabbed,bytheLord!’saidLadyMillicent,withacompletechangeofmanner.‘Younippyolddevil!’ShelookedatPoirotwithalmostaffectionateawe.
‘Well,Gertie,mydear,’saidJapp,‘thegame’supthistime,Ifancy.Fancyseeingyouagainsosoon!We’vegotyourpal,too,thegentlemanwhocalledheretheotherdaycallinghimselfLavington.AsforLavingtonhimself,aliasCroker,aliasReed,IwonderwhichofthegangitwaswhostuckaknifeintohimtheotherdayinHolland?Thoughthe’dgotthegoodswithhim,didn’tyou?Andhehadn’t.Hedouble-crossedyouproperly—hid’eminhisownhouse.Youhadtwofellowslookingforthem,andthenyoutackledM.Poirothere,andbyapieceofamazingluckhefoundthem.’
‘Youdoliketalking,don’tyou?’saidthelateLadyMillicent.‘Easythere,now.I’llgoquietly.Youcan’tsaythatI’mnottheperfectlady.Ta-ta,all!’
‘Theshoeswerewrong,’saidPoirotdreamily,whileIwasstilltoostupefiedtospeak.‘IhavemademylittleobservationsofyourEnglishnation,andalady,abornlady,isalwaysparticularabouthershoes.Shemayhaveshabbyclothes,butshewillbewellshod.Now,thisLadyMillicenthadsmart,expensiveclothes,andcheapshoes.ItwasnotlikelythateitheryouorIshouldhaveseentherealLadyMillicent;shehasbeenverylittleinLondon,andthisgirlhadacertainsuperficialresemblancewhichwouldpasswellenough.AsIsay,theshoesfirstawakenedmysuspicions,andthenherstory—andherveil—werealittlemelodramatic,eh?TheChineseboxwithaboguscompromisingletterinthetopmusthavebeenknowntoallthegang,butthelogofwoodwasthelateMrLavington’sidea.Eh,parexample,Hastings,IhopeyouwillnotagainwoundmyfeelingsasyoudidyesterdaybysayingthatIamunknowntothecriminalclasses.Mafoi,theyevenemploymewhentheythemselvesfail!’
ProblematSea
I
‘ColonelClapperton!’saidGeneralForbes.
Hesaiditwithaneffectmidwaybetweenasnortandasniff.
MissEllieHendersonleanedforward,astrandofhersoftgreyhairblowingacrossherface.Hereyes,darkandsnapping,gleamedwithawickedpleasure.
‘Suchasoldierly-lookingman!’shesaidwithmaliciousintent,andsmoothedbackthelockofhairtoawaittheresult.
‘Soldierly!’explodedGeneralForbes.Hetuggedathismilitarymoustacheandhisfacebecamebrightred.
‘IntheGuards,wasn’the?’murmuredMissHenderson,completingherwork.
‘Guards?Guards?Packofnonsense.Fellowwasonthemusichallstage!Fact!JoinedupandwasoutinFrancecountingtinsofplumandapple.Hunsdroppedastraybombandhewenthomewithafleshwoundinthearm.SomehoworothergotintoLadyCarrington’shospital.’
‘Sothat’showtheymet.’
‘Fact!Fellowplayedthewoundedhero.LadyCarringtonhadnosenseandoceansofmoney.OldCarringtonhadbeeninmunitions.She’dbeenawidowonlysixmonths.Thisfellowsnapsherupinnotime.ShewangledhimajobattheWarOffice.ColonelClapperton!Pah!’hesnorted.
‘Andbeforethewarhewasonthemusichallstage,’musedMissHenderson,tryingtoreconcilethedistinguishedgrey-hairedColonelClappertonwithared-nosedcomediansingingmirth-provokingsongs.
‘Fact!’saidGeneralForbes.‘HearditfromoldBassington-ffrench.AndhehearditfromoldBadgerCotterillwho’dgotitfromSnooksParker.’
MissHendersonnoddedbrightly.‘Thatdoesseemtosettleit!’shesaid.
Afleetingsmileshowedforaminuteonthefaceofasmallmansittingnearthem.MissHendersonnoticedthesmile.Shewasobservant.Ithadshownappreciationoftheironyunderlyingherlastremark—ironywhichtheGeneralneverforamomentsuspected.
TheGeneralhimselfdidnotnoticethesmile.Heglancedathiswatch,roseandremarked:‘Exercise.Gottokeeponeselffitonaboat,’andpassedoutthroughtheopendoorontothedeck.
MissHendersonglancedatthemanwhohadsmiled.Itwasawell-bredglanceindicatingthatshewasreadytoenterintoconversationwithafellowtraveller
‘Heisenergetic—yes?’saidthelittleman.
‘Hegoesroundthedeckforty-eighttimesexactly,’saidMissHenderson.‘Whatanoldgossip!Andtheysaywearethescandal-lovingsex.’
‘Whatanimpoliteness!’
‘Frenchmenarealwayspolite,’saidMissHenderson—therewasthenuanceofaquestioninhervoice.
Thelittlemanrespondedpromptly.‘Belgian,mademoiselle.’
‘Oh!Belgian.’
‘HerculePoirot.Atyourservice.’
Thenamearousedsomememory.Surelyshehadhearditbefore—?‘Areyouenjoyingthistrip,M.Poirot?’
‘Frankly,no.Itwasanimbecilitytoallowmyselftobepersuadedtocome.Idetestlamer.Neverdoesitremaintranquil—no,notforalittleminute.’
‘Well,youadmitit’squitecalmnow.’
M.Poirotadmittedthisgrudgingly.‘Acemoment,yes.ThatiswhyIrevive.Ioncemoreinterestmyselfinwhatpassesaroundme—yourveryadepthandlingoftheGeneralForbes,forinstance.’
‘Youmean—’MissHendersonpaused.
HerculePoirotbowed.‘Yourmethodsofextractingthescandalousmatter.Admirable!’
MissHendersonlaughedinanunashamedmanner.‘ThattouchabouttheGuards?Iknewthatwouldbringtheoldboyupsplutteringandgasping.’Sheleanedforwardconfidentially.‘IadmitIlikescandal—themoreill-natured,thebetter!’
Poirotlookedthoughtfullyather—herslimwell-preservedfigure,herkeendarkeyes,hergreyhair;awomanofforty-fivewhowascontenttolookherage.
Elliesaidabruptly:‘Ihaveit!Aren’tyouthegreatdetective?’
Poirotbowed.‘Youaretooamiable,mademoiselle.’Buthemadenodisclaimer
‘Howthrilling,’saidMissHenderson.‘Areyou“hotonthetrail”astheysayinbooks?Haveweacriminalsecretlyinourmidst?OramIbeingindiscreet?’
‘Notatall.Notatall.Itpainsmetodisappointyourexpectations,butIamsimplyhere,likeeveryoneelse,toamusemyself.’
HesaiditinsuchagloomyvoicethatMissHendersonlaughed.
‘Oh!Well,youwillbeabletogetashoretomorrowatAlexandria.YouhavebeentoEgyptbefore?’
‘Never,mademoiselle.’
MissHendersonrosesomewhatabruptly.
‘IthinkIshalljointheGeneralonhisconstitutional,’sheannounced.
Poirotsprangpolitelytohisfeet.
Shegavehimalittlenodandpassedontothedeck.
AfaintpuzzledlookshowedforamomentinPoirot’seyes,then,alittlesmilecreasinghislips,herose,puthisheadthroughthedoorandglanceddownthedeck.MissHendersonwasleaningagainsttherailtalkingtoatall,soldierly-lookingman.
Poirot’ssmiledeepened.Hedrewhimselfbackintothesmoking-roomwiththesameexaggeratedcarewithwhichatortoisewithdrawsitselfintoitsshell.Forthemomenthehadthesmoking-roomtohimself,thoughherightlyconjecturedthatthatwouldnotlastlong.
Itdidnot.MrsClapperton,hercarefullywavedplatinumheadprotectedwithanet,hermassagedanddietedformdressedinasmartsportssuit,camethroughthedoorfromthebarwiththepurposefulairofawomanwhohasalwaysbeenabletopaytoppriceforanythingsheneeded.
Shesaid:‘John—?Oh!Goodmorning,M.Poirot—haveyouseenJohn?’
‘He’sonthestarboarddeck,madame.ShallI—?’
Shearrestedhimwithagesture.‘I’llsithereaminute.’Shesatdowninaregalfashioninthechairoppositehim.Fromthedistanceshehadlookedapossibletwenty-eight.Now,inspiteofherexquisitelymade-upface,herdelicatelypluckedeyebrows,shelookednotheractualforty-nineyears,butapossiblefifty-five.Hereyeswereahardpalebluewithtinypupils.
‘Iwassorrynottohaveseenyouatdinnerlastnight,’shesaid.‘Itwasjustashadechoppy,ofcourse—’
‘Précisément,’saidPoirotwithfeeling.
‘Luckily,Iamanexcellentsailor,’saidMrsClapperton.‘Isayluckily,because,withmyweakheart,seasicknesswouldprobablybethedeathofme.’
‘Youhavetheweakheart,madame?’
‘Yes,Ihavetobemostcareful.Imustnotovertiremyself!Allthespecialistssayso!’MrsClappertonhadembarkedonthe—toher—ever-fascinatingtopicofherhealth.‘John,poordarling,wearshimselfouttryingtopreventmefromdoingtoomuch.Ilivesointensely,ifyouknowwhatImean,M.Poirot?’
‘Yes,yes.’
‘Healwayssaystome:“Trytobemoreofavegetable,Adeline.”ButIcan’t.Lifewasmeanttobelived,Ifeel.AsamatteroffactIworemyselfoutasagirlinthewar.Myhospital—you’veheardofmyhospital?OfcourseIhadnursesandmatronsandallthat—butIactuallyranit.’Shesighed.
‘Yourvitalityismarvellous,dearlady,’saidPoirot,withtheslightlymechanicalairofonerespondingtohiscue.
MrsClappertongaveagirlishlaugh.
‘EveryonetellsmehowyoungIam!It’sabsurd.InevertrytopretendI’madaylessthanforty-three,’shecontinuedwithslightlymendaciouscandour,‘butalotofpeoplefindithardtobelieve.“You’resoalive,Adeline,”theysaytome.Butreally,M.Poirot,whatwouldonebeifonewasn’talive?’
‘Dead,’saidPoirot.
MrsClappertonfrowned.Thereplywasnottoherliking.Theman,shedecided,wastryingtobefunny.Shegotupandsaidcoldly:‘ImustfindJohn.’
Asshesteppedthroughthedoorshedroppedherhandbag.Itopenedandthecontentsflewfarandwide.Poirotrushedgallantlytotherescue.Itwassomefewminutesbeforethelipsticks,vanityboxes,cigarettecaseandlighterandotheroddsandendswerecollected.MrsClappertonthankedhimpolitely,thenshesweptdownthedeckandsaid,‘John—’
ColonelClappertonwasstilldeepinconversationwithMissHenderson.Heswungroundandcamequicklytomeethiswife.Hebentoverherprotectively.Herdeckchair—wasitintherightplace?Wouldn’titbebetter—?Hismannerwascourteous—fullofgentleconsideration.Clearlyanadoredwifespoiltbyanadoringhusband.
MissEllieHendersonlookedoutatthehorizonasthoughsomethingaboutitratherdisgustedher.
Standinginthesmoking-roomdoor,Poirotlookedon.
Ahoarsequaveringvoicebehindhimsaid:‘I’dtakeahatchettothatwomanifIwereherhusband.’TheoldgentlemanknowndisrespectfullyamongtheyoungersetonboardastheGrandfatherofAlltheTeaPlanters,hadjustshuffledin.‘Boy!’hecalled.‘Getmeawhiskypeg.’
Poirotstoopedtoretrieveatornscrapofnotepaper,anoverlookeditemfromthecontentsofMrsClapperton’sbag.Partofaprescription,henoted,containingdigitalin.Heputitinhispocket,meaningtorestoreittoMrsClappertonlater.
‘Yes,’wentontheagedpassenger.‘Poisonouswoman.IrememberawomanlikethatinPoona.In’87thatwas.’
‘Didanyonetakeahatchettoher?’inquiredPoirot.
Theoldgentlemanshookhisheadsadly.
‘Worriedherhusbandintohisgravewithintheyear.Clappertonoughttoasserthimself.Giveshiswifeherheadtoomuch.’
‘Sheholdsthepursestrings,’saidPoirotgravely.
‘Ha,ha!’chuckledtheoldgentleman.‘You’veputthematterinanutshell.Holdsthepursestrings.Ha,ha!’
Twogirlsburstintothesmoking-room.Onehadaroundfacewithfrecklesanddarkhairstreamingoutinawindsweptconfusion,theotherhadfrecklesandcurlychestnuthair.
‘Arescue—arescue!’criedKittyMooney.‘PamandIaregoingtorescueColonelClapperton.’
‘Fromhiswife,’gaspedPamelaCregan
‘Wethinkhe’sapet…’
‘Andshe’sjustawful—shewon’tlethimdoanything,’thetwogirlsexclaimed.
‘Andifheisn’twithher,he’susuallygrabbedbytheHendersonwoman…’
‘Who’squitenice.Butterriblyold…’
Theyranout,gaspinginbetweengiggles.‘Arescue—arescue…’
II
ThattherescueofColonelClappertonwasnoisolatedsally,butafixedproject,wasmadeclearthatsameeveningwhentheeighteen-year-oldPamCregancameuptoHerculePoirot,andmurmured:‘Watchus,M.Poirot.He’sgoingtobecutoutfromunderhernoseandtakentowalkinthemoonlightontheboatdeck.’
ItwasjustatthatmomentthatColonelClappertonwassaying:‘IgrantyouthepriceofaRolls-Royce.Butit’spracticallygoodforalifetime.Nowmycar—’
‘Mycar,Ithink,John.’MrsClapperton’svoicewasshrillandpenetrating.
Heshowednoannoyanceatherungraciousness.Eitherhewasusedtoitbythistime,orelse—
‘Orelse?’thoughtPoirotandlethimselfspeculate.
‘Certainly,mydear,yourcar,’Clappertonbowedtohiswifeandfinishedwhathehadbeensaying,perfectlyunruffled.
‘Voilàcequ’onappellelepukkasahib,’thoughtPoirot.‘ButtheGeneralForbessaysthatClappertonisnogentlemanatall.Iwondernow.’
Therewasasuggestionofbridge.MrsClapperton,GeneralForbesandahawk-eyedcouplesatdowntoit.MissHendersonhadexcusedherselfandgoneoutondeck.
‘Whataboutyourhusband?’askedGeneralForbes,hesitating.
‘Johnwon’tplay,’saidMrsClapperton.‘Mosttiresomeofhim.’
Thefourbridgeplayersbeganshufflingthecards.
PamandKittyadvancedonColonelClapperton.Eachonetookanarm.
‘You’recomingwithus!’saidPam.‘Totheboatdeck.There’samoon.’
‘Don’tbefoolish,John,’saidMrsClapperton.‘You’llcatchachill.’
‘Notwithus,hewon’t,’saidKitty.‘We’rehotstuff!’
Hewentwiththem,laughing.
PoirotnoticedthatMrsClappertonsaidNoBidtoherinitialbidofTwoClubs
Hestrolledoutontothepromenadedeck.MissHendersonwasstandingbytherail.Shelookedroundexpectantlyashecametostandbesideherandhesawthedropinherexpression.
Theychattedforawhile.Thenpresentlyashefellsilentsheasked:‘Whatareyouthinkingabout?’
Poirotreplied:‘IamwonderingaboutmyknowledgeofEnglish.MrsClappertonsaid:“Johnwon’tplaybridge.”Isnot“can’tplay”theusualterm?’
‘Shetakesitasapersonalinsultthathedoesn’t,Isuppose,’saidElliedrily.‘Themanwasafoolevertohavemarriedher.’
InthedarknessPoirotsmiled.‘Youdon’tthinkit’sjustpossiblethatthemarriagemaybeasuccess?’heaskeddiffidently.
‘Withawomanlikethat?’
Poirotshruggedhisshoulders.‘Manyodiouswomenhavedevotedhusbands.Anenigmaofnature.Youwilladmitthatnothingshesaysordoesappearstogallhim.’MissHendersonwasconsideringherreplywhenMrsClapperton’svoicefloatedoutthroughthesmoking-roomwindow.
‘No—Idon’tthinkIwillplayanotherrubber.Sostuffy.IthinkI’llgoupandgetsomeairontheboatdeck.’
‘Goodnight,’saidMissHenderson.‘I’mgoingtobed.’Shedisappearedabruptly.
Poirotstrolledforwardtothelounge—desertedsaveforColonelClappertonandthetwogirls.Hewasdoingcardtricksforthemandnotingthedexterityofhisshufflingandhandlingofthecards,PoirotrememberedtheGeneral’sstoryofacareeronthemusichallstage.
‘Iseeyouenjoythecardseventhoughyoudonotplaybridge,’heremarked.
‘I’vemyreasonsfornotplayingbridge,’saidClapperton,hischarmingsmilebreakingout.‘I’llshowyou.We’llplayonehand.’
Hedealtthecardsrapidly.‘Pickupyourhands.Well,whataboutit?’HelaughedatthebewilderedexpressiononKitty’sface.Helaiddownhishandandtheothersfollowedsuit.Kittyheldtheentireclubsuit,M.Poirotthehearts,PamthediamondsandColonelClappertonthespades.
‘Yousee?’hesaid.‘Amanwhocandealhispartnerandhisadversariesanyhandhepleaseshadbetterstandalooffromafriendlygame!Iftheluckgoestoomuchhisway,ill-naturedthingsmightbesaid.’
‘Oh!’gaspedKitty.‘Howcouldyoudothat?Italllookedperfectordinary.’
‘Thequicknessofthehanddeceivestheeye,’saidPoirotsententiously—andcaughtthesuddenchangeintheColonel’sexpression.
Itwasasthoughherealizedthathehadbeenoffhisguardforamomentortwo.
Poirotsmiled.Theconjurorhadshownhimselfthroughthemaskofthepukkasahib.
III
TheshipreachedAlexandriaatdawnthefollowingmorning.
AsPoirotcameupfrombreakfasthefoundthetwogirlsallreadytogoonshore.TheyweretalkingtoColonelClapperton.
‘Weoughttogetoffnow,’urgedKitty.‘Thepassportpeoplewillbegoingofftheshippresently.You’llcomewithuswon’tyou?Youwouldn’tletusgoashoreallbyourselves?Awfulthingsmighthappentous.’
‘Icertainlydon’tthinkyououghttogobyyourselves,’saidClapperton,smiling.‘ButI’mnotsuremywifefeelsuptoit.’
‘That’stoobad,’saidPam.‘Butshecanhaveanicelongrest.’
ColonelClappertonlookedalittleirresolute.Evidentlythedesiretoplaytruantwasstronguponhim.HenoticedPoirot.
‘Hullo,M.Poirot—yougoingashore?’
‘No,Ithinknot,’M.Poirotreplied.
‘I’ll—I’ll—justhaveawordwithAdeline,’decidedColonelClapperton.
‘We’llcomewithyou,’saidPam.SheflashedawinkatPoirot.‘Perhapswecanpersuadehertocometoo,’sheaddedgravely.
ColonelClappertonseemedtowelcomethissuggestion.Helookeddecidedlyrelieved.
‘Comealongthen,thepairofyou,’hesaidlightly.TheyallthreewentalongthepassageofBdecktogether.
Poirot,whosecabinwasjustoppositetheClappertons’,followedthemoutofcuriosity.
ColonelClappertonrappedalittlenervouslyatthecabindoor.
‘Adeline,mydear,areyouup?’
ThesleepyvoiceofMrsClappertonfromwithinreplied:‘Oh,bother—whatisit?’
‘It’sJohn.Whataboutgoingashore?’
‘Certainlynot.’Thevoicewasshrillanddecisive.‘I’vehadaverybadnight.Ishallstayinbedmostoftheday.’
Pamnippedinquickly.‘Oh,MrsClapperton,I’msosorry.Wedidsowantyoutocomewithus.Areyousureyou’renotuptoit?’
‘I’mquitecertain.’MrsClapperton’svoicesoundedevenshriller.
TheColonelwasturningthedoor-handlewithoutresult.
‘Whatisit,John?Thedoor’slocked.Idon’twanttobedisturbedbythestewards.’
‘Sorry,mydear,sorry.JustwantedmyBaedeker.’
‘Well,youcan’thaveit,’snappedMrsClapperton.‘I’mnotgoingtogetoutofbed.Dogoaway,John,andletmehavealittlepeace.’
‘Certainly,certainly,mydear.’TheColonelbackedawayfromthedoor.PamandKittyclosedinonhim.
‘Let’sstartatonce.Thankgoodnessyourhat’sonyourhead.Oh,gracious—yourpassportisn’tinthecabin,isit?’
‘Asamatteroffactit’sinmypocket—’begantheColonel.
Kittysqueezedhisarm.‘Glorybe!’sheexclaimed.‘Now,comeon.’
Leaningovertherail,Poirotwatchedthethreeofthemleavetheship.HeheardafaintintakeofbreathbesidehimandturnedtoseeMissHenderson.Hereyeswerefastenedonthethreeretreatingfigures.
‘Sothey’vegoneashore,’shesaidflatly.
‘Yes.Areyougoing?’
Shehadashadehat,henoticed,andasmartbagandshoes.Therewasashore-goingappearanceabouther.Nevertheless,afterthemostinfinitesimalofpauses,sheshookherhead.
‘No,’shesaid.‘IthinkI’llstayonboard.Ihavealotofletterstowrite.’
Sheturnedandlefthim.
Puffingafterhismorningtourofforty-eightroundsofthedeck,GeneralForbestookherplace.‘Aha!’heexclaimedashiseyesnotedtheretreatingfiguresoftheColonelandthetwogirls.‘Sothat’sthegame!Where’stheMadam?’
PoirotexplainedthatMrsClappertonwashavingaquietdayinbed.
‘Don’tyoubelieveit!’theoldwarriorclosedoneknowingeye.‘She’llbeupfortiffin—andifthepoordevil’sfoundtobeabsentwithoutleave,there’llbeructions.’
ButtheGeneral’sprognosticationswerenotfulfilled.MrsClappertondidnotappearatlunchandbythetimetheColonelandhisattendantdamselsreturnedtotheshipatfouro’clock,shehadnotshownherself.
Poirotwasinhiscabinandheardthehusband’sslightlyguiltyknockonhiscabindoor.Heardtheknockrepeated,thecabindoortried,andfinallyheardtheColonel’scalltoasteward.
‘Lookhere,Ican’tgetananswer.Haveyouakey?’
Poirotrosequicklyfromhisbunkandcameoutintothepassage.
IV
Thenewswentlikewildfireroundtheship.WithhorrifiedincredulitypeopleheardthatMrsClappertonhadbeenfounddeadinherbunk—anativedaggerdriventhroughherheart.Astringofamberbeadswasfoundonthefloorofhercabin.
Rumoursucceededrumour.Allbeadsellerswhohadbeenallowedonboardthatdaywerebeingroundedupandquestioned!Alargesumincashhaddisappearedfromadrawerinthecabin!Thenoteshadbeentraced!Theyhadnotbeentraced!Jewelleryworthafortunehadbeentaken!Nojewelleryhadbeentakenatall!Astewardhadbeenarrestedandhadconfessedtothemurder!
‘Whatisthetruthofitall?’demandedMissEllieHendersonwaylayingPoirot.Herfacewaspaleandtroubled.
‘Mydearlady,howshouldIknow?’
‘Ofcourseyouknow,’saidMissHenderson.
Itwaslateintheevening.Mostpeoplehadretiredtotheircabins.MissHendersonledPoirottoacoupleofdeckchairsontheshelteredsideoftheship.‘Nowtellme,’shecommanded.
Poirotsurveyedherthoughtfully.‘It’saninterestingcase,’hesaid.
‘Isittruethatshehadsomeveryvaluablejewellerystolen?’
Poirotshookhishead.‘No.Nojewellerywastaken.Asmallamountofloosecashthatwasinadrawerhasdisappeared,though.’
‘I’llneverfeelsafeonashipagain,’saidMissHendersonwithashiver.‘Anyclueastowhichofthosecoffee-colouredbrutesdidit?’
‘No,’saidHerculePoirot.‘Thewholethingisrather—strange.’
‘Whatdoyoumean?’askedElliesharply.
Poirotspreadouthishands.‘Ehbien—takethefacts.MrsClappertonhadbeendeadatleastfivehourswhenshewasfound.Somemoneyhaddisappeared.Astringofbeadswasonthefloorbyherbed.Thedoorwaslockedandthekeywasmissing.Thewindow—window,notport-hole—givesonthedeckandwasopen.’
‘Well?’askedthewomanimpatiently.
‘Doyounotthinkitiscuriousforamurdertobecommittedunderthoseparticularcircumstances?Rememberthatthepostcardsellers,moneychangersandbeadsellerswhoareallowedonboardareallwellknowntothepolice.’
‘Thestewardsusuallylockyourcabin,allthesame,’Elliepointedout.
‘Yes,topreventanychanceofpettypilfering.Butthis—wasmurder.’
‘Whatexactlyareyouthinkingof,M.Poirot?’Hervoicesoundedalittlebreathless.
‘Iamthinkingofthelockeddoor.’
MissHendersonconsideredthis.‘Idon’tseeanythinginthat.Themanleftbythedoor,lockeditandtookthekeywithhimsoastoavoidhavingthemurderdiscoveredtoosoon.Quiteintelligentofhim,foritwasn’tdiscovereduntilfouro’clockintheafternoon.’
‘No,no,mademoiselle,youdon’tappreciatethepointI’mtryingtomake.I’mnotworriedastohowhegotout,butastohowhegotin.’
‘Thewindowofcourse.’
‘C’estpossible.Butitwouldbeaverynarrowfit—andtherewerepeoplepassingupanddownthedeckallthetime,remember.’
‘Thenthroughthedoor,’saidMissHendersonimpatiently.
‘Butyouforget,mademoiselle.MrsClappertonhadlockedthedoorontheinside.ShehaddonesobeforeColonelClappertonlefttheboatthismorning.Heactuallytriedit—soweknowthatisso.’
‘Nonsense.Itprobablystuck—orhedidn’tturnthehandleproperly.’
‘Butitdoesnotrestonhisword.WeactuallyheardMrsClappertonherselfsayso.’
‘We?’
‘MissMooney,MissCregan,ColonelClappertonandmyself.’
EllieHendersontappedaneatlyshodfoot.Shedidnotspeakforamomentortwo.Thenshesaidinaslightlyirritabletone:‘Well—whatexactlydoyoudeducefromthat?IfMrsClappertoncouldlockthedoorshecouldunlockittoo,Isuppose.’
‘Precisely,precisely.’Poirotturnedabeamingfaceuponher.‘Andyouseewherethatleavesus.MrsClappertonunlockedthedoorandletthemurdererin.Nowwouldshebelikelytodothatforabeadseller?’
Ellieobjected:‘Shemightnothaveknownwhoitwas.Hemayhaveknocked—shegotupandopenedthedoor—andheforcedhiswayinandkilledher.’
Poirotshookhishead.‘Aucontraire.Shewaslyingpeacefullyinbedwhenshewasstabbed.’
MissHendersonstaredathim.‘What’syouridea?’sheaskedabruptly.
Poirotsmiled.‘Well,itlooks,doesitnot,asthoughsheknewthepersonsheadmitted…’
‘Youmean,’saidMissHendersonandhervoicesoundedalittleharsh,‘thatthemurdererisapassengerontheship?’
Poirotnodded.‘Itseemsindicated.’
‘Andthestringofbeadsleftonthefloorwasablind?’
‘Precisely.’
‘Thetheftofthemoneyalso?’
‘Exactly.’
Therewasapause,thenMissHendersonsaidslowly:‘IthoughtMrsClappertonaveryunpleasantwomanandIdon’tthinkanyoneonboardreallylikedher—buttherewasn’tanyonewhohadanyreasontokillher.’
‘Exceptherhusband,perhaps,’saidPoirot.
‘Youdon’treallythink—’Shestopped.
‘ItistheopinionofeverypersononthisshipthatColonelClappertonwouldhavebeenquitejustifiedin“takingahatchettoher”.Thatwas,Ithink,theexpressionused.’
EllieHendersonlookedathim—waiting.
‘ButIamboundtosay,’wentonPoirot,‘thatImyselfhavenotnotedanysignsofexasperationonthegoodColonel’spart.Alsowhatismoreimportant,hehadanalibi.Hewaswiththosetwogirlsalldayanddidnotreturntotheshiptillfouro’clock.Bythen,MrsClappertonhadbeendeadmanyhours.’
Therewasanotherminuteofsilence.EllieHendersonsaidsoftly:‘Butyoustillthink—apassengerontheship?’
Poirotbowedhishead.
EllieHendersonlaughedsuddenly—arecklessdefiantlaugh.‘Yourtheorymaybedifficulttoprove,M.Poirot.Thereareagoodmanypassengersonthisship.’
Poirotbowedtoher.‘Iwilluseaphrasefromoneofyourdetectivestories.“Ihavemymethods,Watson.”’
V
Thefollowingevening,atdinner,everypassengerfoundatypewrittenslipbyhisplaterequestinghimtobeinthemainloungeat8.30.Whenthecompanywereassembled,theCaptainsteppedontotheraisedplatformwheretheorchestrausuallyplayedandaddressedthem.
‘Ladiesandgentlemen,youallknowofthetragedywhichtookplaceyesterday.Iamsureyouallwishtoco-operateinbringingtheperpetratorofthatfoulcrimetojustice.’Hepausedandclearedhisthroat.‘WehaveonboardwithusM.HerculePoirotwhoisprobablyknowntoyouallasamanwhohashadwideexperiencein—er—suchmatters.Ihopeyouwilllistencarefullytowhathehastosay.’
ItwasatthismomentthatColonelClapperton,whohadnotbeenatdinner,cameinandsatdownnexttoGeneralForbes.Helookedlikeamanbewilderedbysorrow—notatalllikeamanconsciousofgreatrelief.Eitherhewasaverygoodactororelsehehadbeengenuinelyfondofhisdisagreeablewife.
‘M.HerculePoirot,’saidtheCaptainandsteppeddown.Poirottookhisplace.Helookedcomicallyself-importantashebeamedonhisaudience.
‘Messieurs,mesdames,’hebegan.‘Itismostkindofyoutobesoindulgentastolistentome.M.leCapitainehastoldyouthatIhavehadacertainexperienceinthesematters.Ihave,itistrue,alittleideaofmyownabouthowtogettothebottomofthisparticularcase.’Hemadeasignandastewardpushedforwardandpassedontohimabulky,shapelessobjectwrappedinasheet.
‘WhatIamabouttodomaysurpriseyoualittle,’Poirotwarnedthem.‘ItmayoccurtoyouthatIameccentric,perhapsmad.NeverthelessIassureyouthatbehindmymadnessthereis—asyouEnglishsay—amethod.’
HiseyesmetthoseofMissHendersonforjustaminute.Hebeganunwrappingthebulkyobject.
‘Ihavehere,messieursandmesdames,animportantwitnesstothetruthofwhokilledMrsClapperton.’Withadefthandhewhiskedawaythelastenvelopingcloth,andtheobjectitconcealedwasrevealed—analmostlife-sizedwoodendoll,dressedinavelvetsuitandlacecollar.
‘Now,Arthur,’saidPoirotandhisvoicechangedsubtly—itwasnolongerforeign—ithadinsteadaconfidentEnglish,aslightlyCockneyinflection.‘Canyoutellme—Irepeat—canyoutellme—anythingatallaboutthedeathofMrsClapperton?’
Thedoll’sneckoscillatedalittle,itswoodenlowerjawdroppedandwaveredandashrillhigh-pitchedwoman’svoicespoke:
‘Whatisit,John?Thedoor’slocked.Idon’twanttobedisturbedbythestewards…’
Therewasacry—anoverturnedchair—amanstoodswaying,hishandtohisthroat—tryingtospeak—trying…Thensuddenly,hisfigureseemedtocrumpleup.Hepitchedheadlong.
ItwasColonelClapperton.
VI
Poirotandtheship’sdoctorrosefromtheirkneesbytheprostratefigure.
‘Allover,I’mafraid.Heart,’saidthedoctorbriefly.
Poirotnodded.‘Theshockofhavinghistrickseenthrough,’hesaid.
HeturnedtoGeneralForbes.‘Itwasyou,General,whogavemeavaluablehintwithyourmentionofthemusichallstage.Ipuzzle—Ithink—andthenitcomestome.SupposingthatbeforethewarClappertonwasaventriloquist.Inthatcase,itwouldbeperfectlypossibleforthreepeopletohearMrsClappertonspeakfrominsidehercabinwhenshewasalreadydead…’
EllieHendersonwasbesidehim.Hereyesweredarkandfullofpain.‘Didyouknowhisheartwasweak?’sheasked.
‘Iguessedit…MrsClappertontalkedofherownheartbeingaffected,butshestruckmeasthetypeofwomanwholikestobethoughtill.ThenIpickedupatornprescriptionwithaverystrongdoseofdigitalininit.Digitalinisaheartmedicinebutitcouldn’tbeMrsClapperton’sbecausedigitalindilatesthepupilsoftheeyes.Ihavenevernoticedsuchaphenomenonwithher—butwhenIlookedathiseyesIsawthesignsatonce.’
Elliemurmured:‘Soyouthought—itmightend—thisway?’
‘Thebestway,don’tyouthink,mademoiselle?’hesaidgently.
Hesawthetearsriseinhereyes.Shesaid:‘You’veknown.You’veknownallalong…ThatIcared…Buthedidn’tdoitforme…Itwasthosegirls—youth—itmadehimfeelhisslavery.Hewantedtobefreebeforeitwastoolate…Yes,I’msurethat’showitwas…Whendidyouguess—thatitwashe?’
‘Hisself-controlwastooperfect,’saidPoirotsimply.‘Nomatterhowgallinghiswife’sconduct,itneverseemedtotouchhim.Thatmeanteitherthathewassousedtoitthatitnolongerstunghim,orelse—ehbien—Idecidedonthelatteralternative…AndIwasright…
‘Andthentherewashisinsistenceonhisconjuringability—theeveningbeforethecrimehepretendedtogivehimselfaway.ButamanlikeClappertondoesn’tgivehimselfaway.Theremustbeareason.Solongaspeoplethoughthehadbeenaconjurortheyweren’tlikelytothinkofhishavingbeenaventriloquist.’
‘Andthevoiceweheard—MrsClapperton’svoice?’
‘Oneofthestewardesseshadavoicenotunlikehers.Iinducedhertohidebehindthestageandtaughtherthewordstosay.’
‘Itwasatrick—acrueltrick,’criedoutEllie.
‘Idonotapproveofmurder,’saidHerculePoirot.
HowDoesYourGardenGrow?
I
HerculePoirotarrangedhislettersinaneatpileinfrontofhim.Hepickedupthetopmostletter,studiedtheaddressforamoment,thenneatlyslitthebackoftheenvelopewithalittlepaper-knifethathekeptonthebreakfasttableforthatexpresspurposeandextractedthecontents.Insidewasyetanotherenvelope,carefullysealedwithpurplewaxandmarked‘PrivateandConfidential’.
HerculePoirot’seyebrowsrosealittleonhisegg-shapedhead.Hemurmured,‘Patience!Nousallonsarriver!’andoncemorebroughtthelittlepaper-knifeintoplay.Thistimetheenvelopeyieldedaletter—writteninarathershakyandspikyhandwriting.Severalwordswereheavilyunderlined.
HerculePoirotunfoldeditandread.Theletterwasheadedonceagain‘PrivateandConfidential’.Ontheright-handsidewastheaddress—Rosebank,Charman’sGreen,Bucks—andthedate—Marchtwenty-first.
DearM.Poirot,IhavebeenrecommendedtoyoubyanoldandvaluedfriendofminewhoknowstheworryanddistressIhavebeeninlately.Notthatthisfriendknowstheactualcircumstances—thoseIhavekeptentirelytomyself—thematterbeingstrictlyprivate.Myfriendassuresmethatyouarediscretionitself—andthattherewillbenofearofmybeinginvolvedinapolicematterwhich,ifmysuspicionsshouldprovecorrect,Ishouldverymuchdislike.ButitisofcoursepossiblethatIamentirelymistaken.Idonotfeelmyselfclear-headedenoughnowadays—sufferingasIdofrominsomniaandtheresultofasevereillnesslastwinter—toinvestigatethingsformyself.Ihaveneitherthemeansnortheability.Ontheotherhand,ImustreiterateoncemorethatthisisaverydelicatefamilymatterandthatformanyreasonsImaywantthewholethinghushedup.IfIamonceassuredofthefacts,Icandealwiththemattermyselfandshouldprefertodoso.IhopethatIhavemademyselfclearonthispoint.Ifyouwillundertakethisinvestigationperhapsyouwillletmeknowtotheaboveaddress?Yoursverytruly,AmeliaBarrowby
Poirotreadtheletterthroughtwice.Againhiseyebrowsroseslightly.Thenheplaceditononesideandproceededtothenextenvelopeinthepile.
Atteno’clockpreciselyheenteredtheroomwhereMissLemon,hisconfidentialsecretary,satawaitingherinstructionsfortheday.MissLemonwasforty-eightandofunprepossessingappearance.Hergeneraleffectwasthatofalotofbonesflungtogetheratrandom.ShehadapassionfororderalmostequallingthatofPoirothimself;andthoughcapableofthinking,sheneverthoughtunlesstoldtodoso.
Poirothandedherthemorningcorrespondence.‘Havethegoodness,mademoiselle,towriterefusalscouchedincorrecttermstoallofthese.’
MissLemonrananeyeoverthevariousletters,scribblinginturnahieroglyphiconeachofthem.Thesemarkswerelegibletoheraloneandwereinacodeofherown:‘Softsoap’;‘slapintheface’;‘purrpurr’;‘curt’;andsoon.Havingdonethis,shenoddedandlookedupforfurtherinstructions.
PoirothandedherAmeliaBarrowby’sletter.Sheextracteditfromitsdoubleenvelope,readitthroughandlookedupinquiringly.
‘Yes,M.Poirot?’Herpencilhovered—ready—overhershorthandpad.
‘Whatisyouropinionofthatletter,MissLemon?’
WithaslightfrownMissLemonputdownthepencilandreadthroughtheletteragain.
ThecontentsofalettermeantnothingtoMissLemonexceptfromthepointofviewofcomposinganadequatereply.Veryoccasionallyheremployerappealedtoherhuman,asopposedtoherofficial,capacities.ItslightlyannoyedMissLemonwhenhedidso—shewasverynearlytheperfectmachine,completelyandgloriouslyuninterestedinallhumanaffairs.Herrealpassioninlifewastheperfectionofafilingsystembesidewhichallotherfilingsystemsshouldsinkintooblivion.Shedreamedofsuchasystematnight.Nevertheless,MissLemonwasperfectlycapableofintelligenceonpurelyhumanmatters,asHerculePoirotwellknew.
‘Well?’hedemanded.
‘Oldlady,’saidMissLemon.‘Gotthewindupprettybadly.’
‘Ah!Thewindrisesinher,youthink?’
MissLemon,whoconsideredthatPoirothadbeenlongenoughinGreatBritaintounderstanditsslangterms,didnotreply.Shetookabrieflookatthedoubleenvelope.
‘Veryhush-hush,’shesaid.‘Andtellsyounothingatall.’
‘Yes,’saidHerculePoirot.‘Iobservedthat.’
MissLemon’shandhungoncemorehopefullyovertheshorthandpad.ThistimeHerculePoirotresponded.
‘TellherIwilldomyselfthehonourtocalluponheratanytimeshesuggests,unlessshepreferstoconsultmehere.Donottypetheletter—writeitbyhand.’
‘Yes,M.Poirot.’
Poirotproducedmorecorrespondence.‘Thesearebills.’
MissLemon’sefficienthandssortedthemquickly.‘I’llpayallbutthesetwo.’
‘Whythosetwo?Thereisnoerrorinthem.’
‘Theyarefirmsyou’veonlyjustbeguntodealwith.Itlooksbadtopaytoopromptlywhenyou’vejustopenedanaccount—looksasthoughyouwereworkinguptogetsomecreditlateron.’
‘Ah!’murmuredPoirot.‘IbowtoyoursuperiorknowledgeoftheBritishtradesman.’
‘There’snothingmuchIdon’tknowaboutthem,’saidMissLemongrimly.
II
ThelettertoMissAmeliaBarrowbywasdulywrittenandsent,butnoreplywasforthcoming.Perhaps,thoughtHerculePoirot,theoldladyhadunravelledhermysteryherself.Yethefeltashadeofsurprisethatinthatcasesheshouldnothavewrittenacourteouswordtosaythathisserviceswerenolongerrequired.
ItwasfivedayslaterwhenMissLemon,afterreceivinghermorning’sinstructions,said,‘ThatMissBarrowbywewroteto—nowonderthere’sbeennoanswer.She’sdead.’
HerculePoirotsaidverysoftly,‘Ah—dead.’Itsoundednotsomuchlikeaquestionasananswer.
Openingherhandbag,MissLemonproducedanewspapercutting.‘Isawitinthetubeandtoreitout.’
Justregisteringinhismindapprovalofthefactthat,thoughMissLemonusedtheword‘tore’,shehadneatlycuttheentrywithscissors,PoirotreadtheannouncementtakenfromtheBirths,DeathsandMarriagesintheMorningPost:‘OnMarch26th—suddenly—atRosebank,Charman’sGreen,AmeliaJanBarrowby,inherseventy-thirdyear.Noflowers,byrequest.’
Poirotreaditover.Hemurmuredunderhisbreath,‘Suddenly.’Thenhesaidbriskly,‘Ifyouwillbesoobligingastotakealetter,MissLemon?’
Thepencilhovered.MissLemon,herminddwellingontheintricaciesofthefilingsystem,tookdowninrapidandcorrectshorthand:
DearMissBarrowby,Ihavereceivednoreplyfromyou,butasIshallbeintheneighbourhoodofCharman’sGreenonFriday,Iwillcalluponyouonthatdayanddiscussmorefullythemattermentionedtomeinyourletter.Yours,etc.
‘Typethisletter,please;andifitispostedatonce,itshouldgettoCharman’sGreentonight.’
Onthefollowingmorningaletterinablack-edgedenvelopearrivedbythesecondpost:
DearSir,Inreplytoyourlettermyaunt,MissBarrowby,passedawayonthetwenty-sixth,sothematteryouspeakofisnolongerofimportance.Yourstruly,MaryDelafontaine
Poirotsmiledtohimself.‘Nolongerofimportance…Ah—thatiswhatweshallsee.Enavant—toCharman’sGreen.’
Rosebankwasahousethatseemedlikelytoliveuptoitsname,whichismorethancanbesaidformosthousesofitsclassandcharacter.
HerculePoirotpausedashewalkedupthepathtothefrontdoorandlookedapprovinglyattheneatlyplannedbedsoneithersideofhim.Rosetreesthatpromisedagoodharvestlaterintheyear,andatpresentdaffodils,earlytulips,bluehyacinths—thelastbedwaspartlyedgedwithshells.
Poirotmurmuredtohimself,‘Howdoesitgo,theEnglishrhymethechildrensing?
‘MistressMary,quitecontrary,Howdoesyourgardengrow?Withcockle-shells,andsilverbells.Andprettymaidsallinarow.
‘Notarow,perhaps,’heconsidered,‘buthereisatleastoneprettymaidtomakethelittlerhymecomeright.’
Thefrontdoorhadopenedandaneatlittlemaidincapandapronwaslookingsomewhatdubiouslyatthespectacleofaheavilymoustachedforeigngentlemantalkingaloudtohimselfinthefrontgarden.Shewas,asPoirothadnoted,averyprettylittlemaid,withroundblueeyesandrosycheeks.
Poirotraisedhishatwithcourtesyandaddressedher:‘Pardon,butdoesaMissAmeliaBarrowbylivehere?’
Thelittlemaidgaspedandhereyesgrewrounder.‘Oh,sir,didn’tyouknow?She’sdead.Eversosuddenitwas.Tuesdaynight.’
Shehesitated,dividedbetweentwostronginstincts:thefirst,distrustofaforeigner;thesecond,thepleasurableenjoymentofherclassindwellingonthesubjectofillnessanddeath.
‘Youamazeme,’saidHerculePoirot,notverytruthfully.‘Ihadanappointmentwiththeladyfortoday.However,Icanperhapsseetheotherladywholiveshere.’
Thelittlemaidseemedslightlydoubtful.‘Themistress?Well,youcouldseeher,perhaps,butIdon’tknowwhethershe’llbeseeinganyoneornot.’
‘Shewillseeme,’saidPoirot,andhandedheracard.
Theauthorityofhistonehaditseffect.Therosy-cheekedmaidfellbackandusheredPoirotintoasitting-roomontherightofthehall.Then,cardinhand,shedepartedtosummonhermistress.
HerculePoirotlookedroundhim.Theroomwasaperfectlyconventionaldrawing-room—oatmeal-colouredpaperwithafriezeroundthetop,indeterminatecretonnes,rose-colouredcushionsandcurtains,agoodmanychinaknick-knacksandornaments.Therewasnothingintheroomthatstoodout,thatannouncedadefinitepersonality.
SuddenlyPoirot,whowasverysensitive,felteyeswatchinghim.Hewheeledround.Agirlwasstandingintheentranceofthefrenchwindow—asmall,sallowgirl,withveryblackhairandsuspiciouseyes.
Shecamein,andasPoirotmadealittlebowsheburstoutabruptly,‘Whyhaveyoucome?’
Poirotdidnotreply.Hemerelyraisedhiseyebrows.
‘Youarenotalawyer—no?’HerEnglishwasgood,butnotforaminutewouldanyonehavetakenhertobeEnglish.
‘WhyshouldIbealawyer,mademoiselle?’
Thegirlstaredathimsullenly.‘Ithoughtyoumightbe.Ithoughtyouhadcomeperhapstosaythatshedidnotknowwhatshewasdoing.Ihaveheardofsuchthings—thenotdueinfluence;thatiswhattheycallit,no?Butthatisnotright.Shewantedmetohavethemoney,andIshallhaveit.IfitisneedfulIshallhavealawyerofmyown.Themoneyismine.Shewroteitdownso,andsoitshallbe.’Shelookedugly,herchinthrustout,hereyesgleaming.
Thedooropenedandatallwomanenteredandsaid,‘Katrina.’
Thegirlshrank,flushed,mutteredsomethingandwentoutthroughthewindow.
Poirotturnedtofacethenewcomerwhohadsoeffectuallydealtwiththesituationbyutteringasingleword.Therehadbeenauthorityinhervoice,andcontemptandashadeofwell-bredirony.Herealizedatoncethatthiswastheownerofthehouse,MaryDelafontaine.
‘M.Poirot?Iwrotetoyou.Youcannothavereceivedmyletter.’
‘Alas,IhavebeenawayfromLondon.’
‘Oh,Isee;thatexplainsit.Imustintroducemyself.MynameisDelafontaine.Thisismyhusband.MissBarrowbywasmyaunt.’
MrDelafontainehadenteredsoquietlythathisarrivalhadpassedunnoticed.Hewasatallmanwithgrizzledhairandanindeterminatemanner.Hehadanervouswayoffingeringhischin.Helookedoftentowardshiswife,anditwasplainthatheexpectedhertotaketheleadinanyconversation.
‘ImustregretthatIintrudeinthemidstofyourbereavement,’saidHerculePoirot.
‘Iquiterealizethatitisnotyourfault,’saidMrsDelafontaine.‘MyauntdiedonTuesdayevening.Itwasquiteunexpected.’
‘Mostunexpected,’saidMrDelafontaine.‘Greatblow.’Hiseyeswatchedthewindowwheretheforeigngirlhaddisappeared.
‘Iapologize,’saidHerculePoirot.‘AndIwithdraw.’Hemovedasteptowardsthedoor.
‘Halfasec,’saidMrDelafontaine.‘You—er—hadanappointmentwithAuntAmelia,yousay?’
‘Parfaitement.’
‘Perhapsyouwilltellusaboutit,’saidhiswife.‘Ifthereisanythingwecando—’
‘Itwasofaprivatenature,’saidPoirot.‘Iamadetective,’headdedsimply.
MrDelafontaineknockedoveralittlechinafigurehewashandling.Hiswifelookedpuzzled.
‘Adetective?AndyouhadanappointmentwithAuntie?Buthowextraordinary!’Shestaredathim.‘Can’tyoutellusalittlemore,M.Poirot?It—itseemsquitefantastic.’
Poirotwassilentforamoment.Hechosehiswordswithcare.
‘Itisdifficultforme,madame,toknowwhattodo.’
‘Lookhere,’saidMrDelafontaine.‘Shedidn’tmentionRussians,didshe?’
‘Russians?’
‘Yes,youknow—Bolshies,Reds,allthatsortofthing.’
‘Don’tbeabsurd,Henry,’saidhiswife.
MrDelafontainecollapsed.‘Sorry—sorry—Ijustwondered.’
MaryDelafontainelookedfranklyatPoirot.Hereyeswereveryblue—thecolourofforget-me-nots.‘Ifyoucantellusanything,M.Poirot,Ishouldbegladifyouwoulddoso.IcanassureyouthatIhavea—areasonforasking.’
MrDelafontainelookedalarmed.‘Becareful,oldgirl—youknowtheremaybenothinginit.’
Againhiswifequelledhimwithaglance.‘Well,M.Poirot?’
Slowly,gravely,HerculePoirotshookhishead.Heshookitwithvisibleregret,butheshookit.‘Atpresent,madame,’hesaid,‘IfearImustsaynothing.’
Hebowed,pickeduphishatandmovedtothedoor.MaryDelafontainecamewithhimintothehall.Onthedoorstephepausedandlookedather.
‘Youarefondofyourgarden,Ithink,madame?’
‘I?Yes,Ispendalotoftimegardening.’
‘Jevousfaismescompliments.’
Hebowedoncemoreandstrodedowntothegate.Ashepassedoutofitandturnedtotherightheglancedbackandregisteredtwoimpressions—asallowfacewatchinghimfromthefirst-floorwindow,andamanoferectandsoldierlycarriagepacingupanddownontheoppositesideofthestreet.
HerculePoirotnoddedtohimself.‘Definitivement,’hesaid.‘Thereisamouseinthishole!Whatmovemustthecatmakenow?’
Hisdecisiontookhimtothenearestpostoffice.Hereheputthroughacoupleoftelephonecalls.Theresultseemedtobesatisfactory.HebenthisstepstoCharman’sGreenpolicestation,whereheinquiredforInspectorSims.
InspectorSimswasabig,burlymanwithaheartymanner.‘M.Poirot?’heinquired.‘Ithoughtso.I’vejustthisminutehadatelephonecallthroughfromthechiefconstableaboutyou.Hesaidyou’dbedroppingin.Comeintomyoffice.’
Thedoorshut,theinspectorwavedPoirottoonechair,settledhimselfinanother,andturnedagazeofacuteinquiryuponhisvisitor.
‘You’reveryquickontothemark,M.Poirot.CometoseeusaboutthisRosebankcasealmostbeforeweknowitisacase.Whatputyouontoit?’
Poirotdrewouttheletterhehadreceivedandhandedittotheinspector.Thelatterreaditwithsomeinterest.
‘Interesting,’hesaid.‘Thetroubleis,itmightmeansomanythings.Pityshecouldn’thavebeenalittlemoreexplicit.Itwouldhavehelpedusnow.’
‘Ortheremighthavebeennoneedforhelp.’
‘Youmean?’
‘Shemighthavebeenalive.’
‘Yougoasfarasthat,doyou?H’m—I’mnotsureyou’rewrong.’
‘Iprayofyou,Inspector,recounttomethefacts.Iknownothingatall.’
‘That’seasilydone.OldladywastakenbadafterdinneronTuesdaynight.Veryalarming.Convulsions—spasms—whatnot.Theysentforthedoctor.Bythetimehearrivedshewasdead.Ideawasshe’ddiedofafit.Well,hedidn’tmuchlikethelookofthings.Hehemmedandhawedandputitwithabitofsoftsawder,buthemadeitclearthathecouldn’tgiveadeathcertificate.Andasfarasthefamilygo,that’swherethematterstands.They’reawaitingtheresultofthepost-mortem.We’vegotabitfurther.Thedoctorgaveusthetiprightaway—heandthepolicesurgeondidtheautopsytogether—andtheresultisinnodoubtwhatever.Theoldladydiedofalargedoseofstrychnine.’
‘Aha!’
‘That’sright.Verynastybitofwork.Pointis,whogaveittoher?Itmusthavebeenadministeredveryshortlybeforedeath.Firstideawasitwasgiventoherinherfoodatdinner—but,frankly,thatseemstobeawashout.Theyhadartichokesoup,servedfromatureen,fishpieandappletart.
‘MissBarrowby,MrDelafontaineandMrsDelafontaine.MissBarrowbyhadakindofnurse-attendant—ahalf-Russiangirl—butshedidn’teatwiththefamily.Shehadtheremainsastheycameoutfromthedining-room.There’samaid,butitwashernightout.Sheleftthesouponthestoveandthefishpieintheoven,andtheappletartwascold.Allthreeofthematethesamething—and,apartfromthat,Idon’tthinkyoucouldgetstrychninedownanyone’sthroatthatway.Stuff’sasbitterasgall.Thedoctortoldmeyoucouldtasteitinasolutionofoneinathousand,orsomethinglikethat.’
‘Coffee?’
‘Coffee’smorelikeit,buttheoldladynevertookcoffee.’
‘Iseeyourpoint.Yes,itseemsaninsuperabledifficulty.Whatdidshedrinkatthemeal?’
‘Water.’
‘Worseandworse.’
‘Bitofateaser,isn’tit?’
‘Shehadmoney,theoldlady?’
‘Verywelltodo,Iimagine.Ofcourse,wehaven’tgotexactdetailsyet.TheDelafontainesareprettybadlyoff,fromwhatIcanmakeout.Theoldladyhelpedwiththeupkeepofthehouse.’
Poirotsmiledalittle.Hesaid,‘SoyoususpecttheDelafontaines.Whichofthem?’
‘Idon’texactlysayIsuspecteitheroftheminparticular.Butthereitis;they’reheronlynearrelations,andherdeathbringsthematidysumofmoney,I’venodoubt.Weallknowwhathumannatureis!’
‘Sometimesinhuman—yes,thatisverytrue.Andtherewasnothingelsetheoldladyateordrank?’
‘Well,asamatteroffact—’
‘Ah,voilà!Ifeltthatyouhadsomething,asyousay,upyoursleeve—thesoup,thefishpie,theappletart—abêtise!Nowwecometothehuboftheaffair.’
‘Idon’tknowaboutthat.Butasamatteroffact,theoldgirltookacachetbeforemeals.Youknow,notapilloratablet;oneofthoserice-paperthingswithapowderinside.Someperfectlyharmlessthingforthedigestion.’
‘Admirable.Nothingiseasierthantofillacachetwithstrychnineandsubstituteitforoneoftheothers.Itslipsdownthethroatwithadrinkofwaterandisnottasted.’
‘That’sallright.Thetroubleis,thegirlgaveittoher.’
‘TheRussiangirl?’
‘Yes.KatrinaRieger.Shewasakindoflady-help,nurse-companiontoMissBarrowby.Fairlyorderedaboutbyher,too,Igather.Fetchthis,fetchthat,fetchtheother,rubmyback,pouroutmymedicine,runroundtothechemist—allthatsortofbusiness.Youknowhowitiswiththeseoldwomen—theymeantobekind,butwhattheyneedisasortofblackslave!’
Poirotsmiled.
‘Andthereyouare,yousee,’continuedInspectorSims.‘Itdoesn’tfitinwhatyoumightcallnicely.Whyshouldthegirlpoisonher?MissBarrowbydiesandnowthegirlwillbeoutofajob,andjobsaren’teasytofind—she’snottrainedoranything.’
‘Still,’suggestedPoirot,‘iftheboxofcachetswasleftabout,anyoneinthehousemighthavetheopportunity.’
‘Naturallywe’remakinginquiries—quietlike,ifyouunderstandme.Whentheprescriptionwaslastmadeup,whereitwasusuallykept;patienceandalotofspadework—that’swhatwilldothetrickintheend.Andthenthere’sMissBarrowby’ssolicitor.I’mhavinganinterviewwithhimtomorrow.Andthebankmanager.There’salottobedonestill.’
Poirotrose.‘Alittlefavour,InspectorSims;youwillsendmealittlewordhowtheaffairmarches.Iwouldesteemitagreatfavour.Hereismytelephonenumber.’
‘Why,certainly,M.Poirot.Twoheadsarebetterthanone;andbesides,yououghttobeinonthis,havinghadthatletterandall.’
‘Youaretooamiable,Inspector.’Politely,Poirotshookhandsandtookhisleave.
III
Hewascalledtothetelephoneonthefollowingafternoon.‘IsthatM.Poirot?InspectorSimshere.ThingsarebeginningtositupandlookprettyinthelittlematteryouandIknowof.’
‘Inverity?Tellme,Iprayofyou.’
‘Well,here’sitemNo.I—andaprettybigitem.MissB.leftasmalllegacytohernieceandeverythingelsetoK.Inconsiderationofhergreatkindnessandattention—that’sthewayitwasput.Thataltersthecomplexionofthings.’
ApictureroseswiftlyinPoirot’smind.Asullenfaceandapassionatevoicesaying,‘Themoneyismine.Shewroteitdownandsoitshallbe.’ThelegacywouldnotcomeasasurprisetoKatrina—sheknewaboutitbeforehand.
‘ItemNo.2,’continuedthevoiceofInspectorSims.‘NobodybutK.handledthatcachet.’
‘Youcanbesureofthat?’
‘Thegirlherselfdoesn’tdenyit.Whatdoyouthinkofthat?’
‘Extremelyinteresting.’
‘Weonlywantonethingmore—evidenceofhowthestrychninecameintoherpossession.Thatoughtn’ttobedifficult.’
‘Butsofaryouhaven’tbeensuccessful?’
‘I’vebarelystarted.Theinquestwasonlythismorning.’
‘Whathappenedatit?’
‘Adjournedforaweek.’
‘Andtheyounglady—K.?’
‘I’mdetainingheronsuspicion.Don’twanttorunanyrisks.Shemighthavesomefunnyfriendsinthecountrywho’dtrytogetheroutofit.’
‘No,’saidPoirot.‘Idonotthinkshehasanyfriends.’
‘Really?Whatmakesyousaythat,M.Poirot?’
‘Itisjustanideaofmine.Therewerenoother“items”,asyoucallthem?’
‘Nothingthat’sstrictlyrelevant.MissB.seemstohavebeenmonkeyingaboutabitwithhershareslately—musthavedroppedquiteatidysum.It’sratherafunnybusiness,onewayandanother,butIdon’tseehowitaffectsthemainissue—notatpresent,thatis.’
‘No,perhapsyouareright.Well,mybestthankstoyou.Itwasmostamiableofyoutoringmeup.’
‘Notatall.I’mamanofmyword.Icouldseeyouwereinterested.Whoknows,youmaybeabletogivemeahelpinghandbeforetheend.’
‘Thatwouldgivemegreatpleasure.Itmighthelpyou,forinstance,ifIcouldlaymyhandonafriendofthegirlKatrina.’
‘Ithoughtyousaidshehadn’tgotanyfriends?’saidInspectorSims,surprised.
‘Iwaswrong,’saidHerculePoirot.‘Shehasone.’
Beforetheinspectorcouldaskafurtherquestion,Poirothadrungoff.
WithaseriousfacehewanderedintotheroomwhereMissLemonsatathertypewriter.Sheraisedherhandsfromthekeysatheremployer’sapproachandlookedathiminquiringly.
‘Iwantyou,’saidPoirot,‘tofiguretoyourselfalittlehistory.’
MissLemondroppedherhandsintoherlapinaresignedmanner.Sheenjoyedtyping,payingbills,filingpapersandenteringupengagements.Tobeaskedtoimagineherselfinhypotheticalsituationsboredherverymuch,butsheaccepteditasadisagreeablepartofaduty.
‘YouareaRussiangirl,’beganPoirot.
‘Yes,’saidMissLemon,lookingintenselyBritish.
‘Youarealoneandfriendlessinthiscountry.YouhavereasonsfornotwishingtoreturntoRussia.Youareemployedasakindofdrudge,nurse-attendantandcompaniontoanoldlady.Youaremeekanduncomplaining.’
‘Yes,’saidMissLemonobediently,butentirelyfailingtoseeherselfbeingmeektoanyoldladyunderthesun.
‘Theoldladytakesafancytoyou.Shedecidestoleavehermoneytoyou.Shetellsyouso.’Poirotpaused.
MissLemonsaid‘Yes’again.
‘Andthentheoldladyfindsoutsomething;perhapsitisamatterofmoney—shemayfindthatyouhavenotbeenhonestwithher.Oritmightbemoregravestill—amedicinethattasteddifferent,somefoodthatdisagreed.Anyway,shebeginstosuspectyouofsomethingandshewritestoaveryfamousdetective—enfin,tothemostfamousdetective—me!Iamtocalluponhershortly.Andthen,asyousay,thedrippingwillbeinthefire.Thegreatthingistoactquickly.Andso—beforethegreatdetectivearrives—theoldladyisdead.Andthemoneycomestoyou…Tellme,doesthatseemtoyoureasonable?’
‘Quitereasonable,’saidMissLemon.‘QuitereasonableforaRussian,thatis.Personally,Ishouldnevertakeapostasacompanion.Ilikemydutiesclearlydefined.AndofcourseIshouldnotdreamofmurderinganyone.’
Poirotsighed.‘HowImissmyfriendHastings.Hehadsuchimagination.Sucharomanticmind!Itistruethathealwaysimaginedwrong—butthatinitselfwasaguide.’
MissLemonwassilent.Shelookedlonginglyatthetypewrittensheetinfrontofher.
‘Soitseemstoyoureasonable,’musedPoirot.
‘Doesn’tittoyou?’
‘Iamalmostafraiditdoes,’sighedPoirot.
ThetelephonerangandMissLemonwentoutoftheroomtoanswerit.Shecamebacktosay‘It’sInspectorSimsagain.’Poirothurriedtotheinstrument.‘’Allo,’allo.Whatisthatyousay?’
Simsrepeatedhisstatement.‘We’vefoundapacketofstrychnineinthegirl’sbedroom—tuckedunderneaththemattress.Thesergeant’sjustcomeinwiththenews.Thataboutclinchesit,Ithink.’
‘Yes,’saidPoirot,‘Ithinkthatclinchesit.’Hisvoicehadchanged.Itrangwithsuddenconfidence.
Whenhehadrungoff,hesatdownathiswritingtableandarrangedtheobjectsonitinamechanicalmanner.Hemurmuredtohimself,‘Therewassomethingwrong.Ifeltit—no,notfelt.ItmusthavebeensomethingIsaw.Enavant,thelittlegreycells.Ponder—reflect.Waseverythinglogicalandinorder?Thegirl—heranxietyaboutthemoney:MmeDelafontaine;herhusband—hissuggestionofRussians—imbecile,butheisanimbecile;theroom;thegarden—ah!Yes,thegarden.’
Hesatupverystiff.Thegreenlightshoneinhiseyes.Hesprangupandwentintotheadjoiningroom.
‘MissLemon,willyouhavethekindnesstoleavewhatyouaredoingandmakeaninvestigationforme?’
‘Aninvestigation,M.Poirot?I’mafraidI’mnotverygood—’
Poirotinterruptedher.‘Yousaidonedaythatyouknewallabouttradesmen.’
‘CertainlyIdo,’saidMissLemonwithconfidence.
‘Thenthematterissimple.YouaretogotoCharman’sGreenandyouaretodiscoverafish-monger.’
‘Afishmonger?’askedMissLemon,surprised.
‘Precisely.ThefishmongerwhosuppliedRosebankwithfish.Whenyouhavefoundhimyouwillaskhimacertainquestion.’
Hehandedheraslipofpaper.MissLemontookit,noteditscontentswithoutinterest,thennoddedandslippedthelidonhertypewriter.
‘WewillgotoCharman’sGreentogether,’saidPoirot.‘YougotothefishmongerandItothepolicestation.ItwilltakeusbuthalfanhourfromBakerStreet.’
Onarrivalathisdestination,hewasgreetedbythesurprisedInspectorSims.‘Well,thisisquickwork,M.Poirot.Iwastalkingtoyouonthephoneonlyanhourago.’
‘Ihavearequesttomaketoyou;thatyouallowmetoseethisgirlKatrina—whatishername?’
‘KatrinaRieger.Well,Idon’tsupposethere’sanyobjectiontothat.’
ThegirlKatrinalookedevenmoresallowandsullenthanever.
Poirotspoketoherverygently.‘Mademoiselle,IwantyoutobelievethatIamnotyourenemy.Iwantyoutotellmethetruth.’
Hereyessnappeddefiantly.‘Ihavetoldthetruth.ToeveryoneIhavetoldthetruth!Iftheoldladywaspoisoned,itwasnotIwhopoisonedher.Itisallamistake.Youwishtopreventmehavingthemoney.’Hervoicewasrasping.Shelooked,hethought,likeamiserablelittlecorneredrat.
‘Didnoonehandleitbutyou?’
‘Ihavesaidso,haveInot?Theyweremadeupatthechemist’sthatafternoon.Ibroughtthembackwithmeinmybag—thatwasjustbeforesupper.IopenedtheboxandgaveMissBarrowbyonewithaglassofwater.’
‘Noonetouchedthembutyou?’
‘No.’Acorneredrat—withcourage!
‘AndMissBarrowbyhadforsupperonlywhatwehavebeentold.Thesoup,thefishpie,thetart?’
‘Yes.’Ahopeless‘yes’—dark,smoulderingeyesthatsawnolightanywhere.
Poirotpattedhershoulder.‘Beofgoodcourage,mademoiselle.Theremayyetbefreedom—yes,andmoney—alifeofease.’
Shelookedathimsuspiciously.
AsshewentoutSimssaidtohim,‘Ididn’tquitegetwhatyousaidthroughthetelephone—somethingaboutthegirlhavingafriend.’
‘Shehasone.Me!’saidHerculePoirot,andhadleftthepolicestationbeforetheinspectorcouldpullhiswitstogether.
IV
AttheGreenCattearooms,MissLemondidnotkeepheremployerwaiting.Shewentstraighttothepoint.
‘Theman’snameisRudge,intheHighStreet,andyouwerequiteright.Adozenandahalfexactly.I’vemadeanoteofwhathesaid.’Shehandedittohim.
‘Arrr.’Itwasadeep,richsoundlikeapurrofacat.
V
HerculePoirotbetookhimselftoRosebank.Ashestoodinthefrontgarden,thesunsettingbehindhim,MaryDelafontainecameouttohim.
‘M.Poirot?’Hervoicesoundedsurprised.‘Youhavecomeback?’
‘Yes,Ihavecomeback.’Hepausedandthensaid,‘WhenIfirstcamehere,madame,thechildren’snurseryrhymecameintomyhead:
‘MistressMary,quitecontrary,Howdoesyourgardengrow?Withcockle-shells,andsilverbells,Andprettymaidsallinarow.
‘Onlytheyarenotcockleshells,arethey,madame?Theyareoystershells.’Hishandpointed.
Heheardhercatchherbreathandthenstayverystill.Hereyesaskedaquestion.
Henodded.‘Mais,oui,Iknow!Themaidleftthedinnerready—shewillswearandKatrinawillswearthatthatisallyouhad.Onlyyouandyourhusbandknowthatyoubroughtbackadozenandahalfoysters—alittletreatpourlabonnetante.Soeasytoputthestrychnineinanoyster.Itisswallowed—comme?a!Butthereremaintheshells—theymustnotgointhebucket.Themaidwouldseethem.Andsoyouthoughtofmakinganedgingofthemtoabed.Buttherewerenotenough—theedgingisnotcomplete.Theeffectisbad—itspoilsthesymmetryoftheotherwisecharminggarden.Thosefewoystershellsstruckanaliennote—theydispleasedmyeyeonmyfirstvisit.’
MaryDelafontainesaid,‘Isupposeyouguessedfromtheletter.Iknewshehadwritten—butIdidn’tknowhowmuchshe’dsaid.’
Poirotansweredevasively,‘Iknewatleastthatitwasafamilymatter.IfithadbeenaquestionofKatrinatherewouldhavebeennopointinhushingthingsup.IunderstandthatyouoryourhusbandhandledMissBarrowby’ssecuritiestoyourownprofit,andthatshefoundout—’
MaryDelafontainenodded.‘We’vedoneitforyears—alittlehereandthere.Ineverrealizedshewassharpenoughtofindout.AndthenIlearnedshehadsentforadetective;andIfoundout,too,thatshewasleavinghermoneytoKatrina—thatmiserablelittlecreature!’
‘AndsothestrychninewasputinKatrina’sbedroom?Icomprehend.YousaveyourselfandyourhusbandfromwhatImaydiscover,andyousaddleaninnocentchildwithmurder.Hadyounopity,madame?’
MaryDelafontaineshruggedhershoulders—herblueforget-me-noteyeslookedintoPoirot’s.Herememberedtheperfectionofheractingthefirstdayhehadcomeandthebunglingattemptsofherhusband.Awomanabovetheaverage—butinhuman.
Shesaid,‘Pity?Forthatmiserableintriguinglittlerat?’Hercontemptrangout.
HerculePoirotsaidslowly,‘Ithink,madame,thatyouhavecaredinyourlifefortwothingsonly.Oneisyourhusband.’
Hesawherlipstremble.
‘Andtheother—isyourgarden.’
Helookedroundhim.Hisglanceseemedtoapologizetotheflowersforthatwhichhehaddoneandwasabouttodo.
E-BookExtras
ThePoirots
ThePoirots
Curtain:Poirot’sLastCase1.TheMysteriousAffairatStyles(1920)
CaptainArthurHastings,invalidedintheGreatWar,isrecuperatingasaguestofJohnCavendishatStylesCourt,the‘country-place’ofJohn’sautocraticoldaunt,EmilyInglethorpe—sheofasizeablefortune,andsorecentlyremarriedtoamantwentyyearsherjunior.WhenEmily’ssuddenheartattackisfoundtobeattributabletostrychnine,Hastingsrecruitsanoldfriend,nowretired,toaidinthelocalinvestigation.Withimpeccabletiming,HerculePoirot,therenownedBelgiandetective,makeshisdramaticentranceintothepagesofcrimeliterature.
Ofnote:Writtenin1916,TheMysteriousAffairatStyleswasAgathaChristie’sfirstpublishedwork.Sixhousesrejectedthenovelbeforeitwasfinallypublished—afterpuzzlingoveritforeighteenmonthsbeforedecidingtogoahead—byTheBodleyHead.
TimesLiterarySupplement:‘Almosttooingenious…veryclearlyandbrightlytold.’2.TheMurderontheLinks(1923)
“ForGod’ssake,come!”ButbythetimeHerculePoirotcanrespondtoMonsieurRenauld’splea,themillionaireisalreadydead—stabbedintheback,andlyinginafreshlyduggraveonthegolfcourseadjoininghisestate.Thereisnolackofsuspects:hiswife,whosedaggerdidthedeed;hisembitteredson;Renauld’smistress—andeachfeelsdeservingofthedeadman’sfortune.Thepolicethinkthey’vefoundtheculprit.Poirothashisdoubts.Andthediscoveryofasecond,identicallymurderedcorpsecomplicatesmattersconsiderably.(However,onabrightnote,CaptainArthurHastingsdoesmeethisfuturewife.)
TheNewYorkTimes:‘Aremarkablygooddetectivestory…warmlyrecommended.’
LiteraryReview:‘Reallyclever.’
Sketch:‘AgathaChristieneverletsyoudown.’3.PoirotInvestigates(1924)
Amoviestar,adiamond;amurderous‘suicide’;apharaoh’scurseuponhistomb;aprimeministerabducted…Whatlinksthesefascinatingcases?ThebrilliantdeductivepowersofHerculePoirotin…‘TheAdventureoftheWesternStar’;‘TheTragedyatMarsdonManor’;‘TheAdventureoftheCheapFlat’;‘TheMysteryoftheHunter’sLodge’;‘TheMillionDollarBondRobbery’;‘TheAdventureoftheEgyptianTomb’;‘TheJewelRobberyattheGrandMetropolitan’;‘TheKidnappedPrimeMinister’;‘TheDisappearanceofMr.Davenheim’;‘TheAdventureoftheItalianNobleman’;‘TheCaseoftheMissingWill.’
Ofnote:ThestoriescollectedherewerefirstpublishedinSketch,beginningonMarch7,1923.Sketchalsofeaturedthefirstillustrationofthefoppish,egg-headed,elaboratelymoustachioedBelgiandetective.
LiteraryReview:‘Acapitalcollection…ingeniouslyconstructedandtoldwithanengaginglightnessofstyle.’
IrishTimes:‘Instraightdetectivefictionthereisstillnoonetotouch[Christie].’4.TheMurderofRogerAckroyd(1926)
InthequietvillageofKing’sAbbotawidow’ssuicidehasstirredsuspicion—anddreadfulgossip.Therearerumoursthatshemurderedherfirsthusband,thatshewasbeingblackmailed,andthathersecretloverwasRogerAckroyd.Then,onthevergeofdiscoveringtheblackmailer’sidentity,Ackroydhimselfismurdered.HerculePoirot,whohassettledinKing’sAbbotforsomepeaceandquietandalittlegardening,findshimselfatthecentreofthecase—andupagainstadiabolicallycleveranddeviouskiller.
Ofnote:TheMurderofRogerAckroydbrokealltherulesofdetectivefictionandmadeAgathaChristieahouseholdname.Widelyregardedashermasterpiece(thoughperhapsitmaybecalledher‘Poirotmasterpiece’sinceothertitlesinhercanon—notablyAndThenThereWereNone—aresimilarlyacclaimed),TheMurderofRogerAckroydwasthesourceofsomecontroversywhenitwaspublished.TheTimesLiterarySupplement’spraiseofthefirstPoirot,TheMysteriousAffairatStyles,‘almosttooingenious,’wasappliedbyscoresofreaderstoAckroyd,whowerenonethelessenrapturedbythenovel,andhaveremainedsooverthedecades.
Fairwarning:Therearetwothingsyoumustdoifyouknownothingofthebook:discussitwithnoone,andreaditwithallspeed.
H.R.F.Keating:‘Oneofthelandmarksofdetectiveliterature’(inhisCrime&Mystery:The100BestBooks).
JulianSymons:‘Themostbrilliantofdeceptions’(inhisBloodyMurder:FromtheDetectiveStorytotheCrimeNovel).
IrishIndependent:‘Aclassic—thebookhasworthilyearneditsfame.’5.TheBigFour(1927)
HerculePoirotispreparingforavoyagetoSouthAmerica.Loominginthedoorwayofhisbedroomisanuninvitedguest,coatedfromheadtofootindustandmud.Theman’sgauntfaceregistersPoirotforamoment,andthenhecollapses.ThestrangerrecoverslongenoughtoidentifyPoirotbynameandmadlyandrepeatedlyscribblethefigure‘4’onapieceofpaper.Poirotcancelshistrip.Aninvestigationisinorder.Fortunately,PoirothasthefaithfulCaptainHastingsathissideasheplungesintoaconspiracyofinternationalscope—onethatwouldconsolidatepowerinthedeadlycabalknownas‘TheBigFour.’6.TheMysteryoftheBlueTrain(1928)
LeTrainBleuisanelegant,leisurelymeansoftravel,andonecertainlyfreeofintrigue.HerculePoirotisaboard,boundfortheRiviera.AndsoisRuthKettering,theAmericanheiress.Bailingoutofadoomedmarriage,sheisenroutetoreconcilewithherformerlover.Butherprivateaffairsaremadequitepublicwhensheisfoundmurderedinherluxurycompartment—bludgeonedalmostbeyondrecognition.FansofthelaternovelMurderontheOrientExpresswillnotwanttomissthisjourneybyrail—andPoirot’seeriereenactmentofthecrime…7.BlackCoffee(1930;1998)
SirClaudAmory’sformulaforapowerfulnewexplosivehasbeenstolen,presumablybyamemberofhislargehousehold.SirClaudassembleshissuspectsinthelibraryandlocksthedoor,instructingthemthatthewhenthelightsgoout,theformulamustbereplacedonthetable—andnoquestionswillbeasked.Butwhenthelightscomeon,SirClaudisdead.NowHerculePoirot,assistedbyCaptainHastingsandInspectorJapp,mustunravelatangleoffamilyfeuds,oldflames,andsuspiciousforeignerstofindthekillerandpreventaglobalcatastrophe.
Ofnote:BlackCoffeewasAgathaChristie’sfirstplayscript,writtenin1929.Itpremieredin1930attheEmbassyTheatreinSwissCottage,London,beforetransferringthefollowingyeartoStMartin’sintheWestEnd—atheatremadefamousbyvirtueofitsbecomingthepermanenthomeofthelongest-runningplayinhistory,AgathaChristie’sTheMousetrap.AgathaChristie’sbiographer,CharlesOsborne,who,asayoungactorin1956hadplayedDrCarelliinaTunbridgeWellsproductionofBlackCoffee,adaptedtheplayasthisnovelin1998.
AntoniaFraser,SundayTelegraph:‘Alivelyandlight-heartedreadwhichwillgivepleasuretoallthosewhohavelongwishedthattherewasjustonemoreChristietodevour.’
MathewPrichard,fromhisForewordtoBlackCoffee:‘ThisHerculePoirotmurdermystery…readslikeauthentic,vintageChristie.IfeelsureAgathawouldbeproudtohavewrittenit.’8.PerilatEndHouse(1932)
Nickisanunusualnameforaprettyyoungwoman.AndNickBuckleyhasbeenleadinganunusuallifeoflate.First,onatreacherousCornishhillside,thebrakesonhercarfail.Then,onacoastalpath,afallingbouldermissesherbyinches.Safeinbed,sheisalmostcrushedbyapainting.UpondiscoveringabulletholeinNick’ssunhat,HerculePoirot(whohadcometoCornwallforasimpleholidaywithhisfriendCaptainHastings)decidesthatthegirlneedshisprotection.Atthesametime,hebeginstounravelthemysteryofamurderthathasn’tbeencommitted.Yet.
TimesLiterarySupplement:‘Ingenious.’9.LordEdgwareDies(1933)
PoirotwaspresentwhenthebeautifulactressJaneWilkinsonbraggedofherplanto‘getridof’herestrangedhusband.Nowthemonstrousmanisdead.ButhowcouldJanehavestabbedLordEdgwareinhislibraryatexactlythetimeshewasdiningwithfriends?Andwhatcouldhavebeenhermotive,sinceEdgwarehadfinallygrantedheradivorce?The
TheNewYorkTimes:‘Amostingeniouscrimepuzzle.’
TimesLiterarySupplement:‘ThewholecaseisatriumphofPoirot’sspecialqualities.’
NotedcrimefictioncriticJulianSymonsselectedLordEdgwareDiesasoneofAgathaChristie’sbest.10.MurderontheOrientExpress(1934)
Justaftermidnight,asnowstormstopstheOrientExpressdeadinitstracksinthemiddleofYugoslavia.Theluxurioustrainissurprisinglyfullforthistimeofyear.Butbymorningthereisonepassengerless.A‘respectableAmericangentleman’liesdeadinhiscompartment,stabbedadozentimes,hisdoorlockedfromtheinside…HerculePoirotisalsoaboard,havingarrivedinthenickoftimetoclaimasecond-classcompartment—andthemostastoundingcaseofhisillustriouscareer.
Regardingchronology:AgathaChristieseemsnotmuchconcernedinthecourseofherbookswiththeirrelationshiptoeachother.ItiswhytheMarplesandthePoirotsmaybereadyinanyorder,really,withpleasure.However,thededicatedPoirotistmaywishtonotethatthegreatdetectiveisreturningfrom‘AlittleaffairinSyria’atthestartMurderontheOrientExpress.Itisapieceofbusinessafterthis‘littleaffair’—theinvestigationintothedeathofanarchaeologist’swife—thatisthesubjectofMurderinMesopotamia(1936).IfonewishestodelayatadlongerthepleasuresofOrientExpress,MurderinMesopotamiaoffersnobetteropportunity.
Fairwarning:Alongtheselines,itisadvisablethatonenotreadCardsontheTable(1936)priortoOrientExpress,sincePoirothimselfcasuallygivesawaytheendingtothelatternovel.
Ofnote:MurderontheOrientExpressisoneofAgathaChristie’smostfamousnovels,owingnodoubttoacombinationofitsromanticsettingandtheingeniousnessofitsplot;itsnon-exploitativereferencetothesensationalkidnappingandmurderoftheinfantsonofCharlesandAnneMorrowLindberghonlytwoyearsprior;andapopular1974filmadaptation,starringAlbertFinneyasPoirot—oneofthefewcinematicversionsofaChristieworkthatmetwiththeapproval,howevermild,oftheauthorherself.
DorothyL.Sayers,SundayTimes:‘Amurdermysteryconceivedandcarriedoutonthefinestclassicallines.’
SaturdayReviewofLiterature:‘Hardtosurpass.’
TimesLiterarySupplement:‘Needitbesaid—thelittlegreycellssolveoncemoretheseeminglyinsoluble.MrsChristiemakesanimprobabletaleveryreal,andkeepsherreadersenthralledandguessingtotheend.’11.Three-ActTragedy(1935)
Thenovelopensasatheatreprogramme,withthistellingcredit:‘IlluminationbyHERCULEPOIROT.’Lightmustbeshed,indeed,onthefatefuldinnerpartystagedbythefamousactorSirCharlesCartwrightforthirteenguests.Itwillbeaparticularlyunluckyeveningforthemild-manneredReverendStephenBabbington,whosemartiniglass,sentforchemicalanalysisafterhechokesonitscontentsanddies,revealsnotraceofpoison.Justasthereisnoapparentmotiveforhismurder.Thefirstsceneinasuccessionofcarefullystagedkillings,butwhoisthedirector?
TheNewYorkTimes:‘Makesforuncommonlygoodreading.’12.DeathintheClouds(1935)
FromseatNo.9,HerculePoirotisalmostideallyplacedtoobservehisfellowairtravelersonthisshortflightfromParistoLondon.Overtohisrightsitsaprettyyoungwoman,clearlyinfatuatedwiththemanopposite.Ahead,inseatNo.13,istheCountessofHorbury,horriblyaddictedtococaineandnotdoingtoogoodajobofconcealingit.AcrossthegangwayinseatNo.8,awriterofdetectivefictionisbeingtroubledbyanaggressivewasp.Yes,Poirotisalmostideallyplacedtotakeitallin—exceptthatthepassengerintheseatdirectlybehindhimhasslumpedoverinthecourseoftheflight…dead.Murdered.BysomeoneinPoirot’simmediateproximity.AndPoirothimselfmustnumberamongthesuspects.
TimesLiterarySupplement:‘Itwillbeaveryacutereaderwhodoesnotreceiveacompletesurpriseattheend.’13.TheABCMurders(1936)
CaptainArthurHastingsreturnstonarratethisaccountofapersonalchallengemadeto‘MrCleverPoirot’byakillerwhoidentifieshimselfas‘ABC’andwholeavestheABCRailGuidenexttohisvictims—apparentlyintendingtoworkthroughtheEnglishcountryside(hehasstruckinAndover,Bexhill–on–Sea,andChurston)andexercisePoirotalongtheway.SerializedinLondon’sDailyExpress,TheABCMurdersbecameaculturalphenomenonasreaderswereinvitedtotrytokeepupwiththefamousBelgiandetective.Itisachallengethatremainsfreshandthrillingtothisday—andmakesTheABCMurdersoneoftheabsolutemust-readsoftheChristiecanon.
JulianSymons:‘Amasterworkofcarefullyconcealedartifice…moststunninglyoriginal.’
SundayTimes:‘ThereisnomorecunningplayerofthemurdergamethanAgathaChristie.’14.MurderinMesopotamia(1936)
NurseAmyLeatheranhadneverfeltthelureofthe‘mysteriousEast,’butshenonethelessacceptsanassignmentatHassanieh,anancientsitedeepintheIraqidesert,tocareforthewifeofacelebratedarchaeologist.MrsLeidnerissufferingbizarrevisionsandnervousterror.‘I’mafraidofbeingkilled!’sheadmitstohernurse.Herterror,unfortunately,isanythingbutunfounded,andNurseLeatheranissoonenoughwithoutapatient.Theworld’sgreatestdetectivehappenstobeinthevicinity,however:havingconcludedanassignmentinSyria,andcuriousaboutthedigatHassanieh,HerculePoirotarrivesintimetoleadamurderinvestigationthatwilltaxevenhisremarkablepowers—andinapartoftheworldthathasseenmorethanitsshareofmisadventureandfoulplay.
TheNewYorkTimes:‘Smooth,highlyoriginal,andcompletelyabsorbing.’15.CardsontheTable(1936)
‘Thededuction,’AgathaChristiewritesinherForewordtothisvolume,‘must…beentirelypsychological…becausewhenallissaidanddoneitisthemindofthemurdererthatisofsupremeinterest.’ThereisprobablynoneaterencapsulationofwhatmakesAgathaChristie’sworkssofresh,sofascinating,somanyyearsaftertheywerewritten.AndthisstatementappropriatelyopensthenovelthatisregardedasAgathaChristie’smostsingularlychallengingmystery—itis,infact,HerculePoirot’sownfavouritecase.
PoirotisoneofeightdinnerguestsoftheflamboyantMrShaitana.TheotherinviteesareSuperintendentBattleofScotlandYard(introducedinTheSecretofChimneys);SecretServiceagentColonelRace(whofirstappearedinTheManintheBrownSuit);MrsAriadneOliver,afamousauthorofdetectivestories(introducedinParkerPyneInvestigatesandwhowillfigureinfivemorePoirots)—andfoursuspectedmurderers.Afterdinner,therewillbeafewroundsofbridge:thefourinvestigatorsplayingatonetable;thefourmurdersuspectsatanother.MrShaitanawillsitbythefireandobserve.Thishedoes—untilheisstabbedtodeath.Theultimate‘closed-roommurdermystery’awaitstheintrepidreader.Whoisthemurderer?Andwhowillsolvethecrime?
Fairwarning:PoirotcasuallyrevealsthesolutiontoMurderontheOrientExpressinCardsontheTable
DailyMail:‘Thefinestmurderstoryofhercareer…MrsChristiehasneverbeenmoreingenious.’16.MurderintheMews(1937)
Inthetitleworkinthiscollectionofnovellas,PoirotandInspectorJappcollaborateontheinvestigationofasuspicioussuicide.ThesupernaturalissaidtoplayinthedisappearanceoftopsecretmilitaryplansinTheIncredibleTheft—anincredibleclaim,indeed,asPoirotwillprove.ThebulletthatkillsGervaseChevenix-GoreshattersamirrorinDeadMan’sMirror—justthecluePoirotneedstosolvethecrime.And,whilebaskingonwhiteMediterraneansands,Poirotstarestroubleintheface—thebeautifulfaceofValentineChantry,nowcelebratingherfifthmarriage—inTriangleatRhodes
DailyMail:‘Allfourtalesareadmirableentertainment…MrsChristie’ssolutionsareunexpectedandsatisfying.’17.DumbWitness(1937)
AgathaChristiewrotethismysteryfordoglovers.Shewascertainlyoneherself,dedicatingthenoveltoherownpet.CaptainArthurHastings,inhispenultimatePoirotappearance(likePoirot,Curtainwillbehislast),againtakesupnarrativeduties—alongwith,remarkably,theeponymousBob,awire-hairedterrierwho,uponcarefulinspection,declaresPoirot‘notreallyadoggyperson.’ButPoirotispresenttoinquireintothenatural-seemingdeathofBob’smistress,MissEmilyArundell.Natural-seeming,exceptthatMissEmilyhadwrittenPoirotofhersuspicionsthatamemberofherfamilywastryingtokillher:aletterPoirotreceivedtoolate—infact,twomonthstoolate—tohelp.PoirotandBobwillsniffoutthemurderernonetheless(andBobwillwinahappynewhome,withCaptainHastingswhois,mostdecidedly,a‘doggyperson’).
Fairwarning:DumbWitnessisbestreadafterTheMysteriousAffairatStyles;TheMurderofRogerAckroyd;TheMysteryoftheBlueTrain;andDeathintheClouds—sincetheidentityofthecriminalineachisrevealedinthisnovel.
GlasgowHerald:‘OneofPoirot’smostbrilliantachievements.’18.DeathontheNile(1937)
Amongthebest-lovedofAgathaChristie’snovels,DeathontheNilefindsHerculePoirotagaintryingtoenjoyavacation—thistimeaboardtheS.S.Karnak,steamingbetweentheFirstandSecondCataractsoftheNile,withstopsatsitesofarchaeologicalsignificance.ButPoirot(who,afterall,hadattemptedtoretireyearsbefore)seemstobeperenniallyunluckyinhischoiceofholidays.NewlywedLinnetRidgewayis,inthecourseofthejourney,shotdeadinthehead,andPoirothasbeforehimaboatloadofsuspects—andausefulsidekickinColonelRaceoftheBritishSecretService.
Ofnote:TheproducersofMurderontheOrientExpressreleasedafilmversion,alsowellreceived(thoughnotbyMrsChristie,whohadpassedawaytwoyearsprior),ofDeathontheNile(1978),thistimecastingPeterUstinovasPoirot.
DailyMail(ofthenovel):‘Flawless.’19.AppointmentwithDeath(1938)
‘“I’msosorry,”shesaid…“Yourmotherisdead,MrBoynton.”Andcuriously,asthoughfromagreatdistance,shewatchedthefacesoffivepeopletowhomthatannouncementmeantfreedom…’
WehavereturnedtotheMiddleEastwithHerculePoirot,onourmostcolourfultouryet:totheDomeoftheRock,theJudeandesert,theDeadSea,andtoPetra,‘therose-redcity,’thatancientplaceofheart-stoppingbeauty—butalsoofheart-stoppinghorror,forheresitsthecorpseofoldMrsBoynton,monstrousmatriarch,loathedbyoneandall.Atinypuncturemarkonherwrististheonlysignofthefatalinjectionthatkilledher.Withonlytwenty-fourhoursavailabletosolvethemystery,HerculePoirotrecallsachanceremarkhe’doverheardbackinJerusalem:‘Yousee,don’tyou,thatshe’sgottobekilled?’
TheObserver:‘TwiceasbrilliantasDeathontheNile,whichwasentirelybrilliant.’20.HerculePoirot’sChristmas(1938)
Thisnovelwastheauthor’sgifttoherbrother-in-law,whohadcomplainedthatherstorieswere,forhim,‘tooacademic.’Whathedesiredwasa‘goodviolentmurderwithlotsofblood.’Fromtheepigraph—aquotationfromMacbeth—toitsstartlingend,Agathadeliveredagiftmadetoorder.
ItisChristmasEve.TheLeefamilyreunion,neveralivelyaffair,isinterruptedbyadeafeningcrashandahigh-pitchedscream.ThetyrannicalheadoftheLeefamily,Simeon,liesdeadinapoolofblood,histhroatslashed.HerculePoirotisspendingtheholidayswithhisfriendColonelJohnson,thechiefconstableofthelocalvillage.AttheLeehousehefindsanatmospherenotofmourningbutofmutualsuspicion.Christmaswithfamily—surviveitthisyearwithHerculePoirot.
Fairwarning:InanexchangebetweenPoirotandColonelJohnson,thesolutionofThree-ActTragedyisrevealed.21.SadCypress(1940)
Beautiful,youngElinorCarlislestandsserenelyinthedock,accusedofthemurderofMaryGerrard,herrivalinlove.Theevidenceisdamning:onlyElinorhadthemotive,theopportunity,andthemeanstoadministerthefatalpoison.Insidethehostilecourtroom,onemanisallthatstandsbetweenElinorandthegallows—HerculePoirot.
DailyMail:‘Poirotsolvesanotherexcitingcase.’
CharlesOsborne,AgathaChristie’biographer:‘Oneofthemostreal,leastschematicofcrimenovels.Itisalsounusualinthatitemploysthedeviceofthepossiblemiscarriageofjustice…Anditworkssuperblyasamurdermystery.’22.One,Two,BuckleMyShoe(1940)
‘Nineteen,twenty,myplate’sempty.’Butthereader’splateisfullindeed,asHerculePoirotmustfollowafamiliarnurseryrhymethroughacourseofmurder.TheadventureiskickedoffbytheapparentsuicideofaHarleyStreetdentist—whowouldalsoappeartohavemurderedoneofhispatients.HerculePoirothashimselfbeenthisdentist’spatientonthisveryday,andsuspectsfoulplay.Ashoebuckleholdsthekeytothemystery.But—five,six—willPoirotpickupsticks,and—seven,eight—laythemstraight…beforeamurderercanstrikeagain?
TheNewYorkTimes:‘Aswiftcourseofunflaggingsuspenseleadstocompletesurprise.’23.EvilUndertheSun(1941)
‘Therewasthataboutherwhichmadeeveryotherwomanonthebeachseemfadedandinsignificant.Andwithequalinevitability,theeyeofeverymalepresentwasdrawnandrivetedonher.’
IncludingHerculePoirot’s.SheisArlenaStuart,thefamousactress,enjoying—likethefamousdetective—asummerholidayonSmugglers’Island,andshewillbecomeacommonenoughsight,sunbathingonthehotsands.Thenoneazuremorningherbeautifulbronzedbodyisdiscoveredinanisolatedcove,intheshade.Sheisdead,strangled.AndPoirot,aslucklessaseverwhenheattemptssomedown-time,willlearninthecourseofhisinvestigationthatnearlyalltheguestsofthisexclusiveresorthavesomeconnectiontoArlena.Butwhohadthecapacityandthemotivetokillher?
Ofnote:TheproducersofMurderontheOrientExpressandDeathontheNilereleasedafilmversionofEvilUndertheSunin1982;again,asinNile,theycastPeterUstinovasPoirot.
DailyTelegraph:‘ChristiehasneverwrittenanythingbetterthanEvilUndertheSun,whichisdetectivestorywritingatitsbest.’
TimesLiterarySupplement:‘Christiespringshersecretlikealandmine.’
SundayTimes:‘Vivaciousandentertaining.’24.FiveLittlePigs(1943)
Astaggeringbestselleruponitspublication—runningthrough20,000copiesofitsfirstedition—FiveLittlePigs(publishedintheU.S.asMurderinRetrospect)concernsamurdercommittedsixteenyearsearlier.CarlaCraleprevailsuponHerculePoirottoinvestigatethecrimethatsenthermother,Caroline,toprisonforlife(whereshedied).Carolinehadbeenfoundguiltyofpoisoningherestrangedhusband,Carla’sfather,AmyasCrale,thefamousartist.Poirot’sinvestigationcentersuponfivesuspects,stillliving,whomheconvincestospeaktohimandtorecordtheirownmemoriesofthelong-agoincident.
Brilliantlyintersplicingthepastandthepresent,memoryandreality,thesearchfortruthandongoingattemptstothwartit,FiveLittlePigshasnoantecedent.AlmostadecadebeforeAkiraKurosawa’sfamousfilmintroducedtheterm“Rashomoneffect”intothevernacular,AgathaChristieinvitedherreaderstoviewacrimefrommultipleperspectivesandtoconsiderthevagariesofsuchanexercise.Fortunately,however,thegreatBelgiandetectivedoesnotdealinvagaries—HerculePoirotisinthebusinessofprecision,andhewillrevealtheidentityofthetruekiller.
Observer:‘MrsChristieasusualputsaringthroughthereader’snoseandleadshimtooneofhersmashinglast-minuteshowdowns.’
TimesLiterarySupplement:‘Theanswertotheriddleisbrilliant.’25.TheHollow(1946)
AmurdertableaustagedforPoirot’s‘amusement’goeshorriblywrongatTheHollow,theestateofLadyLucyAngkatell,whohasinvitedthegreatdetectiveasherguestofhonour.DrJohnChristowwastohavebeen‘shot’byhiswife,Gerda,to‘expire’inapoolofblood-redpaint.Butwhentheshotisfired,itisdeadly,andDr.Christow’slastgaspisofanameotherthanhiswife’s:‘Henrietta.’WhatwastohavebeenapleasantcountryweekendbecomesinsteadoneofPoirot’smostbafflingcases,withtherevelationofacomplexwebofromanticattachmentsamongthedenizensofTheHollow.
Ofnote:ThephenomenonofTheMousetraptendstodistractfromAgathaChristie’sotherstagesuccesses.AnadaptationofTheHollowwasonesuchtriumph,premieringinCambridgein1951andsubsequentlyplayingforoverayearintheWestEnd.Poirot,however,isnotacharacterinthestageversion—thediminutiveBelgianwiththeoversizedpersonalitywasreplacedbyaperfectlyneutralScotlandYardinspector.InherAutobiography,MrsChristienotesthatshewishesshehadmadeasimilarswapinthenovel—soricharethecharactersinTheHollow—butPoirotfansthen(TheHollowwasatremendousbestseller)andtodaywouldhaveitnootherway.
SanFranciscoChronicle(ofthenovel):‘Agrade-Aplot—thebestChristieinyears.’26.TheLaboursofHercules(1967)
DrBurton,FellowofAllSouls,sippingPoirot’sChateauMoutonRothschild,offersuparatherunkindremarkabouthishostthatsetsinmotionHerculePoirot’sobsessive,self-imposedcontestagainsthisclassicalnamesake:Poirotwillaccepttwelvelabours—twelvefiendishlycomplexcases—andthen,atlonglast,genuinelyunshouldertheburdensofthehero:hewillretire,andleavetheriddingofsociety’smonsters,thesweepingofitscriminalstables,toothers.ThecasesthatPoirotengagesareeverybitastaxingofhismightybrainaswerethefamouslaboursimposedbyEurystheus,KingofTiryns,ontheGreekdemi-god’sbrawn,andtheymakeforoneofthemostfascinatingbooksintheChristiecanon.(Poirotsolvesthemallbut,ofcourse,retirementremainsaselusiveasever.)
SundayExpress:‘Twelvelittlemasterpiecesofdetection.PoirotandAgathaChristieattheirinimitablebest.’
MargeryAllingham:‘IhaveoftenthoughtthatMrsChristiewasnotsomuchthebestastheonlylivingwriterofthetrueclassicdetectivestory.’
SanFranciscoChronicle:‘Afinelyshapedbook,richlydeviousandquitebrilliant.’27.TakenattheFlood(1948)
Afewweeksaftermarryinganattractiveyoungwidow,RosaleenUnderhay,GordonCloadediesintheBlitz—leavingRosaleeninsolepossessionoftheCloadefamilyfortune.‘Illwill’isintheair,generally,withthecloseofthewar,anditpositivelycontaminatestheCloadehousehold.NowthatcontaminationthreatensPoirot—intheformofavisitfromthedeadman’ssister-in-law.‘Guided’toPoirot‘bythosebeyondtheveil,’sheinsiststhatRosaleenisnotawidowatall.Thoughheisnosubscribertothesupernatural,PoirothasindeedheardofthesomewhatnotoriousRosaleen,andheisdrawn,seeminglyinevitably,tothecasewhenhereadsofthedeathofoneEnochArden—whohadappearedmysteriouslyinthevillageofWarmsleyVale,notfarfromtheCloadefamilyseat.Poirotmustinvestigate—butdoeshegotoWarmsleyValetobringRosaleentojustice,ortospareherbeingdispatchedprematurelyto‘theotherside’?
Ofnote:TakenattheFloodmarksthedebutofSuperintendentSpence,aPoirotsidekickwhowillfeatureinthreemorePoirotnovels.
ElizabethBowen,TheTatler:‘Oneofthebest…Hergiftforblendingthecosywiththemacabrehasseldombeenmoreinevidencethanitishere.’
ManchesterEveningNews:‘Toldbriskly,vivaciously,andwithever-fertileimagination.’
NewYorkHeraldTribune:‘Don’tmissit.’28.MrsMcGinty’sDead(1952)
‘MrsMcGinty’sdead!’/‘Howdidshedie?’/‘Downononeknee,justlikeI!’Sogoestheoldchildren’srhyme.Acrushingblowtothebackoftheheadkillsareal-lifeMrsMcGintyinhercottageinthevillageofBroadhinny—SuperintendentSpence’sjurisdiction.Thenthekillertoreupthefloorboardsinsearchof…what?Justicepresumesapittanceofcash;andjusticehascondemnedJamesBentley,herloathsomelodger,tohangforthecrime.ButSuperintendentSpenceisnotsatisfiedwiththeverdict,andappealstoPoirottoinvestigate—andsavethelifeofthewretchBentley.
Ofnote:CrimenovelistAriadneOliver,ofCardsontheTable,returnstohelpPoirotandSpencesolvethecrime.
SundayTimes:‘Sosimple,soeconomical,socompletelybaffling.Eachcluescrupulouslygiven,withsuperbsleightofhand.’
SanFranciscoChronicle:‘Theplotisperfectandthecharactersarewonderful.’
TheNewYorkTimes:‘ThebestPoirotsince…CardsontheTable.’29.AftertheFuneral(1953)
MrsCoraLansquenetadmitsto‘alwayssayingthewrongthing’—butthislastremarkhasgottenherahatchetinthehead.‘Hewasmurdered,wasn’the?’shehadsaidafterthefuneralofherbrother,RichardAbernethie,inthepresenceofthefamilysolicitor,MrEntwhistle,andtheassembledAbernethies,whoareanxioustoknowhowRichard’ssizablefortunewillbedistributed.Entwhistle,desperatenottoloseanymoreclientstomurder,turnstoHerculePoirotforhelp.Akillercomplicatesanalreadyverycomplicatedfamily—classicChristie;purePoirot.
LiverpoolPost:‘Keepsusguessing—andguessingwrongly—totheverylastpage.’30.HickoryDickoryDock(1955)
AnoutbreakofkleptomaniaatastudenthostelisnotnormallythesortofcrimethatarousesHerculePoirot’sinterest.Butwhenitaffectstheworkofhissecretary,MissLemon,whosesisterworksatthehostel,heagreestolookintothematter.ThematterbecomesabonafidemysterywhenPoirotperusesthebizarrelistofstolenandvandalizeditems—includingastethoscope,someoldflanneltrousers,aboxofchocolates,aslashedrucksack,andadiamondringfoundinabowlofasoup.‘Auniqueandbeautifulproblem,’thegreatdetectivedeclares.Unfortunately,this‘beautifulproblem’isnotjustoneofthieveryandmischief—forthereisakillerontheloose.
TimesLiterarySupplement:‘Anevent…Thereisplentyofentertainment.’
TheNewYorkTimes:‘TheChristiefanoflongeststanding,whothinksheknowseveryoneofhertricks,willstillbesurprisedby…thetwistshere.’31.DeadMan’sFolly(1956)
SirGeorgeandLadyStubbsdesiretohostavillagefetewithadifference—amockmurdermystery.Ingoodfaith,AriadneOliver,themuch-laudedcrimenovelist,agreestoorganisetheproceedings.Astheeventdrawsnear,however,Ariadnesensesthatsomethingsinisterisabouttohappen—andcallsuponheroldfriendHerculePoirottocomedowntoDartmoorforthefestivities.Ariadne’sinstincts,alas,arerightonthemoney,andsoonenoughPoirothasarealmurdertoinvestigate.
TheNewYorkTimes:‘TheinfalliblyoriginalAgathaChristiehascomeup,onceagain,withanewandhighlyingeniouspuzzle-construction.’
TimesLiterarySupplement:‘Thesolutionisofthecolossalingenuitywehavebeenconditionedtoexpect.’32.CatAmongthePigeons(1959)
ArevolutionintheMiddleEasthasadirectanddeadlyimpactuponthesummertermatMeadowbank,apicture-perfectgirls’schoolintheEnglishcountryside.PrinceAliYusuf,HereditarySheikhofRamat,whosegreatliberalizingexperiment—‘hospitals,schools,aHealthService’—iscomingtochaos,knowsthathemustprepareforthedayofhisexile.Heaskshispilotandschoolfriend,BobRawlinson,tocareforapacketofjewels.Rawlinsondoesso,hidingthemamongthepossessionsofhisniece,JenniferSutcliffe,whoisboundforMeadowbank.Rawlinsoniskilledbeforehecanrevealthehidingplace—oreventhefactthathehasemployedhisnieceasasmuggler.Butsomeoneknows,orsuspects,thatJenniferhasthejewels.AsmurderstrikesMeadowbank,onlyHerculePoirotcanrestorethepeace
Ofnote:InthisnovelwemeetColonelPikeaway,latertoappearinthenon-PoirotsPassengertoFrankfurtandPosternofFate,andwemeetthefinancierMrRobinson,whowillalsoappearinPosternofFateandwhowillshowupatMissMarple’sBertram’sHotel
DailyExpress,ofCatAmongthePigeons:‘Immenselyenjoyable.’
TheNewYorkTimes:‘ToreadAgathaChristieatherbestistoexperiencetherarefiedpleasureofwatchingafaultlesstechnicianatwork,andsheisintopforminCatAmongthePigeons.’33.TheAdventureoftheChristmasPudding(1960)
‘ThisbookofChristmasfaremaybedescribedas“TheChef’sSelection.”IamtheChef!’AgathaChristiewritesinherForeword,inwhichshealsorecallsthedelightfulChristmasesofheryouthatAbneyHallinthenorthofEngland.Butwhiletheauthor’sChristmaseswereuninterruptedbymurder,herfamousdetective’sarenot(seealsoHerculePoirot’sChristmas).Inthetitlenovella,Poirot—whohasbeencoercedintoattending‘anold-fashionedChristmasintheEnglishcountryside’—getsallthetrimmings,certainly,buthealsogetsawoman’scorpseinthesnow,aKurdishknifespreadingacrimsonstainacrossherwhitefurwrap.
Collectedwithin:TheAdventureoftheChristmasPudding(novella);‘TheMysteryoftheSpanishChest’;TheUnderDog(novella);‘Four-and-TwentyBlackbirds’;‘TheDream’;andaMissMarplemystery,‘Greenshaw’sFolly.’
TimesLiterarySupplement:‘ThereistheirresistiblesimplicityandbuoyancyofaChristmastreataboutitall.’34.TheClocks(1963)
SheilaWebb,typist-for-hire,hasarrivedat19WilbrahamCrescentintheseasidetownofCrowdeantoacceptanewjob.Whatshefindsisawell-dressedcorpsesurroundedbyfiveclocks.MrsPebmarsh,theblindownerofNo.19,deniesallknowledgeofringingSheila’ssecretarialagencyandaskingforherbyname—yetsomeonedid.Nordoessheownthatmanyclocks.Andneitherwomanseemstoknowthevictim.ColinLamb,ayoungintelligencespecialistworkingacaseofhisownatthenearbynavalyard,happenstobeonthesceneatthetimeofSheilaWebb’sghastlydiscovery.LambknowsofonlyonemanwhocanproperlyinvestigateacrimeasbizarreandbafflingaswhathappenedinsideNo.
TheNewYorkTimes:‘Hereisthegrand-mannerdetectivestoryinallitsglory.’
TheBookman:‘SuperlativeChristie…extremelyingenious.’
SaturdayReview:‘Asure-fireattention-gripper—naturally.’35.ThirdGirl(1966)
HerculePoirotisinterruptedatbreakfastbyayoungwomanwhowishestoconsultwiththegreatdetectiveaboutamurdershe‘mighthave’committed—butuponbeingintroducedtoPoirot,thegirlflees.Anddisappears.Shehassharedaflatwithtwoseeminglyordinaryyoungwomen.AsHerculePoirot—withtheaidofthecrimenovelistMrsAriadneOliver—learnsmoreaboutthismysterious‘thirdgirl,’hehearsrumoursofrevolvers,flick-knives,andblood-stains.Evenifamurdermightnothavebeencommitted,somethingisseriouslywrong,anditwilltakeallofPoirot’switsandtenacitytoestablishwhetherthe‘thirdgirl’isguilty,innocent,orinsane.
SundayTelegraph:‘First-classChristie.’
FinancialTimes:‘Mesmerisingingenuity.’36.Hallowe’enParty(1969)
MysterywriterAriadneOliverhasbeeninvitedtoaHallowe’enpartyatWoodleighCommon.Oneoftheotherguestsisanadolescentgirlknownfortellingtalltalesofmurderandintrigue—andforbeinggenerallyunpleasant.Butwhenthegirl,Joyce,isfounddrownedinanapple-bob-bingtub,MrsOliverwondersafterthefictionalnatureofthegirl’sclaimthatshehadoncewitnessedamurder.WhichofthepartyguestswantedtokeepherquietisaquestionforAriadne’sfriendHerculePoirot.ButunmaskingakillerthisHallowe’enisnotgoingtobeeasy—forthereisn’tasoulinWoodleighwhobelievesthelatelittlestorytellerwasactuallymurdered.
DailyMirror:‘Athunderingsuccess…atriumphforHerculePoirot.’37.ElephantsCanRemember(1972)
‘TheRavenscroftsdidn’tseemthatkindofperson.Theyseemedwellbalancedandplacid.’
Andyet,twelveyearsearlier,thehusbandhadshotthewife,andthenhimself—orperhapsitwastheotherwayaround,sincesetsofbothoftheirfingerprintswereonthegun,andthegunhadfallenbetweenthem.ThecasehauntsAriadneOliver,whohadbeenafriendofthecouple.Thefamousmysterynovelistdesiresthisreal-lifemysterysolved,andcallsuponHerculePoirottohelpherdoso.Oldsinshavelongshadows,theproverbgoes.Poirotisnowaveryoldman,buthismindisasnimbleandassharpaseverandcanstillpenetratedeepintotheshadows.ButasPoirotandMrsOliverandSuperintendentSpencereopenthelong-closedcase,astartlingdiscoveryawaitsthem.AndifmemoryservesPoirot(anditdoes!),crime—likehistory—hasatendencytorepeatitself.
TheTimes:‘Splendid.’38.Poirot’sEarlyCases(1974)
Withhiscareerstillinitsformativeyears,welearnmanythingsabouthowPoirotcametoexercisethosefamous‘greycells’sowell.FourteenoftheeighteenstoriescollectedhereinarenarratedbyCaptainArthurHastings—includingwhatwouldappeartobetheearliestPoirotshortstory,‘TheAffairattheVictoryBall,’whichfollowssoonontheeventsofTheMysteriousAffairatStyles.TwoofthestoriesarenarratedbyPoirothimself,toHastings.One,‘TheChocolateBox,’concernsPoirot’searlydaysontheBelgianpoliceforce,andthecasethatwashisgreatestfailure:‘Mygreycells,theyfunctionednotatall,’Poirotadmits.Butotherwise,inthismostfascinatingcollection,theyfunctionbrilliantly,Poirot’sgreycells,challengingthereadertokeeppaceateverytwistandturn.
Collectedwithin:‘TheAffairattheVictoryBall’;‘TheAdventureoftheClaphamCook’;‘TheCornishMystery’;‘TheAdventureofJohnnieWaverly’;‘TheDoubleClue’;‘TheKingofClubs’;‘TheLemesurierInheritance’;‘TheLostMine’;‘ThePlymouthExpress’;‘TheChocolateBox’;‘TheSubmarinePlans’;‘TheThird-FloorFlat’;‘DoubleSin’;‘TheMarketBasingMystery’;‘Wasps’Nest’;‘TheVeiledLady’;‘ProblematSea’;‘HowDoesYourGardenGrow?’
SundayExpress:‘Superb,vintageChristie.’39.Curtain:Poirot’sLastCase(1975)
CaptainArthurHastingsnarrates.Poirotinvestigates.‘This,Hastings,willbemylastcase,’declaresthedetectivewhohadenteredthesceneasaretireeinTheMysteriousAffairatStyles,thecaptain’s,andour,firstencounterwiththenow-legendaryBelgiandetective.Poirotpromisesthat,‘Itwillbe,too,mymostinterestingcase—andmymostinterestingcriminal.ForinXwehaveatechniquesuperb,magnificent…Xhasoperatedwithsomuchabilitythathehasdefeatedme,HerculePoirot!’Thesettingis,appropriately,StylesCourt,whichhassincebeenconvertedintoaprivatehotel.AndunderthissameroofisX,amurdererfive-timesover;amurdererbynomeansfinishedmurdering.InCurtain,Poirotwill,atlast,retire—deathcomesastheend.AndhewillbequeathtohisdearfriendHastingsanastoundingrevelation.‘TheendingofCurtainisoneofthemostsurprisingthatAgathaChristieeverdevised,’writesherbiographer,CharlesOsborne.
Ofnote:On6August1975,uponthepublicationofCurtain,TheNewYorkTimesranafront-pageobituaryofHerculePoirot,completewithphotograph.ThepassingofnootherfictionalcharacterhadbeensoacknowledgedinAmerica’s‘paperofrecord.’AgathaChristiehadalwaysintendedCurtaintobe‘Poirot’sLastCase’:HavingwrittenthenovelduringtheBlitz,shestoredit(heavilyinsured)inabankvaulttillthetimethatshe,herself,wouldretire.AgathaChristiediedon12January1976.
Time:‘First-rateChristie:fast,complicated,wrylyfunny.’
AboutAgathaChristie
AgathaChristieisknownthroughouttheworldastheQueenofCrime.HerbookshavesoldoverabillioncopiesinEnglishandanotherbillionin100foreignlanguages.Sheisthemostwidelypublishedauthorofalltimeandinanylanguage,outsoldonlybytheBibleandShakespeare.MrsChristieistheauthorofeightycrimenovelsandshortstorycollections,nineteenplays,andsixnovelswrittenunderthenameofMaryWestmacott.
AgathaChristie’sfirstnovel,TheMysteriousAffairatStyles,waswrittentowardstheendofWorldWarI(duringwhichsheservedintheVoluntaryAidDetachments).InitshecreatedHerculePoirot,thelittleBelgianinvestigatorwhowasdestinedtobecomethemostpopulardetectiveincrimefictionsinceSherlockHolmes.Afterhavingbeenrejectedbyanumberofhouses,TheMysteriousAffairatStyleswaseventuallypublishedbyTheBodleyHeadin1920.
In1926,nowaveragingabookayear,AgathaChristiewrotehermasterpiece.TheMurderofRogerAckroydwasthefirstofherbookstobepublishedbyWilliamCollinsandmarkedthebeginningofanauthor-publisherrelationshipthatlastedforfiftyyearsandproducedoverseventybooks.TheMurderofRogerAckroydwasalsothefirstofAgathaChristie’sworkstobedramatised—asAlibi—andtohaveasuccessfulruninLondon’sWestEnd.TheMousetrap,hermostfamousplay,openedin1952andrunstothisdayatStMartin’sTheatreintheWestEnd;itisthelongest-runningplayinhistory.
AgathaChristiewasmadeaDamein1971.Shediedin1976,sincewhenanumberofherbookshavebeenpublished:thebestsellingnovelSleepingMurderappearedin1976,followedbyAnAutobiographyandtheshortstorycollectionsMissMarple’sFinalCases;ProblematPollensaBay;andWhiletheLightLasts.In1998,BlackCoffeewasthefirstofherplaystobenovelisedbyCharlesOsborne,MrsChristie’sbiographer.
TheAgathaChristieCollection
ChristieCrimeClassics
TheManintheBrownSuitTheSecretofChimneysTheSevenDialsMysteryTheMysteriousMrQuinTheSittafordMysteryTheHoundofDeathTheListerdaleMysteryWhyDidn’tTheyAskEvans?ParkerPyneInvestigatesMurderIsEasyAndThenThereWereNoneTowardsZeroDeathComesastheEndSparklingCyanideCrookedHouseTheyCametoBaghdadDestinationUnknownSpider’sWeb*TheUnexpectedGuest*OrdealbyInnocenceThePaleHorseEndlessNightPassengerToFrankfurtProblematPollensaBayWhiletheLightLasts
HerculePoirotInvestigates
TheMysteriousAffairatStylesTheMurderontheLinksPoirotInvestigatesTheMurderofRogerAckroydTheBigFourTheMysteryoftheBlueTrainBlackCoffee*PerilatEndHouseLordEdgwareDiesMurderontheOrientExpressThree-ActTragedyDeathintheCloudsTheABCMurdersMurderinMesopotamiaCardsontheTableMurderintheMewsDumbWitnessDeathontheNileAppointmentwithDeathHerculePoirot’sChristmasSadCypressOne,Two,BuckleMyShoeEvilUndertheSunFiveLittlePigsTheHollowTheLaboursofHerculesTakenattheFloodMrsMcGinty’sDeadAftertheFuneralHickoryDickoryDockDeadMan’sFollyCatAmongthePigeonsTheAdventureoftheChristmasPuddingTheClocksThirdGirlHallowe’enPartyElephantsCanRememberPoirot’sEarlyCasesCurtain:Poirot’sLastCase
MissMarpleMysteries
TheMurderattheVicarageTheThirteenProblemsTheBodyintheLibraryTheMovingFingerAMurderIsAnnouncedTheyDoItwithMirrorsAPocketFullofRye4.50fromPaddingtonTheMirrorCrack’dfromSidetoSideACaribbeanMysteryAtBertram’sHotelNemesisSleepingMurderMissMarple’sFinalCases
Tommy&Tuppence
TheSecretAdversaryPartnersinCrimeNorM?BythePrickingofMyThumbsPosternofFate
PublishedasMaryWestmacott
Giant’sBreadUnfinishedPortraitAbsentintheSpringTheRoseandtheYewTreeADaughter’saDaughterTheBurden
Memoirs
AnAutobiographyCome,TellMeHowYouLive
PlayCollections
TheMousetrapandSelectedPlaysWitnessfortheProsecutionandSelectedPlays
*novelisedbyCharlesOsborne
www.agathachristie.com
FormoreinformationaboutAgathaChristie,pleasevisittheofficialwebsite.
POIROT’SEARLYCASESbyAgathaChristie
Copyright?1974AgathaChristieLimited(aChorioncompany)
AllrightsreservedunderInternationalandPan-AmericanCopyrightConventions.Bypaymentoftherequiredfees,youhavebeengrantedthenon-exclusive,non-transferablerighttoaccessandreadthetextofthise-bookon-screen.Nopartofthistextmaybereproduced,transmitted,downloaded,decompiled,reverseengineered,orstoredinorintroducedintoanyinformationstorageandretrievalsystem,inanyformorbyanymeans,whetherelectronicormechanical,nowknownorhereinafterinvented,withouttheexpresswrittenpermissionofPerfectBound?
PerfectBound?andthePerfectBound?logoaretrademarksofHarperCollinsPublishers,Inc.
MobipocketReaderpublishedSeptember2004ISBN0-06-079022-9
Thise-bookwassetfromtheAgathaChristieSignatureEditionpublished2002byHarperCollinsPublishers,London.
10987654321
FirstpublishedinGreatBritainbyCollins1974
FormoreinformationaboutAgathaChristiee-booksvisitwww.perfectbound.com/agathachristie
AboutthePublisher
AustraliaHarperCollinsPublishers(Australia)Pty.Ltd.25RydeRoad(POBox321)Pymble,NSW2073,Australiahttp://www.perfectbound.com.au
CanadaHarperCollinsPublishersLtd.55AvenueRoad,Suite2900Toronto,ON,M5R,3L2,Canadahttp://www.perfectbound.ca
NewZealandHarperCollinsPublishers(NewZealand)LimitedP.O.Box1Auckland,NewZealandhttp://www.harpercollins.co.nz
UnitedKingdomHarperCollinsPublishersLtd.77-85FulhamPalaceRoadLondon,W68JB,UKhttp://www.uk.perfectbound.com
UnitedStatesHarperCollinsPublishersInc.10East53rdStreetNewYork,NY10022http://www.perfectbound.com
FormoreinformationaboutAgathaChristiee-booksvisitwww.perfectbound.com/agathachristie
eBookInfo
Title:
Poirot’sEarlyCases
Creator:
AgathaChristie
Date:
1974
Type:
novel
Format:
text/html
Identifier:
ISBN0-06-079022-9
Source:
PDF
Language:
en
Relation:
None
Coverage:
None
Rights:
Copyright?1974AgathaChristieLimited(aChorioncompany)TableofContents
AboutAgathaChristie
TheAgathaChristieCollection
E-bookExtra
TheAffairattheVictoryBall
TheAdventureoftheClaphamCook
TheCornishMystery
TheAdventureofJohnnieWaverly
TheDoubleClue
TheKingofClubs
TheLemesurierInheritance
TheLostMine
ThePlymouthExpress
TheChocolateBox
TheSubmarinePlans
TheThird-FloorFlat
DoubleSin
TheMarketBasingMystery
Wasps’Nest
TheVeiledLady
ProblematSea
HowDoesYourGardenGrow?
Copyright
www.agathachristie.com
AboutthePublisher
TheAffairattheVictoryBall
TheAdventureoftheClaphamCook
TheCornishMystery
TheAdventureofJohnnieWaverly
TheDoubleClue
TheKingofClubs
TheLemesurierInheritance
TheLostMine
ThePlymouthExpress
TheChocolateBox
TheSubmarinePlans
TheThird-FloorFlat
DoubleSin