The Regatta Mystery and Other Stories_ F

TheRegattaMysteryandOtherStories
FeaturingHerculePoirot,MissMarple,andMr.ParkerPyne
Contents
Cover
TitlePage
1TheRegattaMystery
2TheMysteryoftheBaghdadChest
3HowDoesYourGardenGrow?
4ProblematPollensaBay
5YellowIris
6MissMarpleTellsaStory
7TheDream
8InaGlassDarkly
9ProblematSea
AbouttheAuthor
TheAgathaChristieCollection
RelatedProducts
Copyright
AboutthePublisher
One
THEREGATTAMYSTERY
“TheRegattaMystery”wasfirstpublishedas“PoirotandtheRegattaMystery”intheUSAintheChicagoTribune,3May1936,andtheninStrandMagazine,June1936.ItfirstappearedinitscurrentformintheAmericanbookTheRegattaMysteryandOtherStories,publishedbyDodd,Mead,June1939.
Mr.IsaacPointzremovedacigarfromhislipsandsaidapprovingly:
“Prettylittleplace.”
HavingthussetthesealofhisapprovaluponDartmouthharbour,hereplacedthecigarandlookedabouthimwiththeairofamanpleasedwithhimself,hisappearance,hissurroundingsandlifegenerally.
Asregardsthefirstofthese,Mr.IsaacPointzwasamanoffifty-eight,ingoodhealthandconditionwithperhapsaslighttendencytoliver.Hewasnotexactlystout,butcomfortable-looking,andayachtingcostume,whichheworeatthemoment,isnotthemostkindlyofattiresforamiddle-agedmanwithatendencytoembonpoint.Mr.Pointzwasverywellturnedout—correcttoeverycreaseandbutton—hisdarkandslightlyOrientalfacebeamingoutunderthepeakofhisyachtingcap.Asregardshissurroundings,thesemayhavebeentakentomeanhiscompanions—hispartnerMr.LeoStein,SirGeorgeandLadyMarroway,anAmericanbusinessacquaintanceMr.SamuelLeathernandhisschoolgirldaughterEve,Mrs.RustingtonandEvanLlewellyn.
ThepartyhadjustcomeashorefromMr.Pointz’yacht—theMerrimaid.Inthemorningtheyhadwatchedtheyachtracingandtheyhadnowcomeashoretojoinforawhileinthefunofthefair—Coconutshies,FatLadies,theHumanSpiderandtheMerry-go-round.ItishardlytobedoubtedthatthesedelightswererelishedmostbyEveLeathern.WhenMr.PointzfinallysuggestedthatitwastimetoadjourntotheRoyalGeorgefordinnerherswastheonlydissentientvoice.
“Oh,Mr.Pointz—IdidsowanttohavemyfortunetoldbytheRealGypsyintheCaravan.”
Mr.PointzhaddoubtsoftheessentialRealnessoftheGypsyinquestionbuthegaveindulgentassent.
“Eve’sjustcrazyaboutthefair,”saidherfatherapologetically.“Butdon’tyoupayanyattentionifyouwanttobegettingalong.”
“Plentyoftime,”saidMr.Pointzbenignantly.“Letthelittleladyenjoyherself.I’lltakeyouonatdarts,Leo.”
“Twenty-fiveandoverwinsaprize,”chantedthemaninchargeofthedartsinahighnasalvoice.
“Betyouafivermytotalscorebeatsyours,”saidPointz.
“Done,”saidSteinwithalacrity.
Thetwomenweresoonwholeheartedlyengagedintheirbattle.
LadyMarrowaymurmuredtoEvanLlewellyn:
“Eveisnottheonlychildintheparty.”
Llewellynsmiledassentbutsomewhatabsently.
Hehadbeenabsentmindedallthatday.Onceortwicehisanswershadbeenwideofthepoint.
PamelaMarrowaydrewawayfromhimandsaidtoherhusband:
“Thatyoungmanhassomethingonhismind.”
SirGeorgemurmured:
“Orsomeone?”
AndhisglancesweptquicklyoverJanetRustington.
LadyMarrowayfrownedalittle.Shewasatallwomanexquisitelygroomed.Thescarletofherfingernailswasmatchedbythedarkredcoralstudsinherears.Hereyesweredarkandwatchful.SirGeorgeaffectedacareless“heartyEnglishgentleman”manner—buthisbrightblueeyesheldthesamewatchfullookashiswife’s.
IsaacPointzandLeoSteinwereHattonGardendiamondmerchants.SirGeorgeandLadyMarrowaycamefromadifferentworld—theworldofAntibesandJuanlesPins—ofgolfatSt.Jean-de-Luz—ofbathingfromtherocksatMadeirainthewinter.
Inoutwardseemingtheywereastheliliesthattoilednot,neitherdidtheyspin.Butperhapsthiswasnotquitetrue.Therearediversewaysoftoilingandalsoofspinning.
“Here’sthekidbackagain,”saidEvanLlewellyntoMrs.Rustington.
Hewasadarkyoungman—therewasafaintlyhungrywolfishlookabouthimwhichsomewomenfoundattractive.
ItwasdifficulttosaywhetherMrs.Rustingtonfoundhimso.Shedidnotwearherheartonhersleeve.Shehadmarriedyoung—andthemarriagehadendedindisasterinlessthanayear.SincethattimeitwasdifficulttoknowwhatJanetRustingtonthoughtofanyoneoranything—hermannerwasalwaysthesame—charmingbutcompletelyaloof.
EveLeatherncamedancinguptothem,herlankfairhairbobbingexcitedly.Shewasfifteen—anawkwardchild—butfullofvitality.
“I’mgoingtobemarriedbythetimeI’mseventeen,”sheexclaimedbreathlessly.“Toaveryrichmanandwe’regoingtohavesixchildrenandTuesdaysandThursdaysaremyluckydaysandIoughtalwaystoweargreenorblueandanemeraldismyluckystoneand—”
“Why,pet,Ithinkweoughttobegettingalong,”saidherfather.
Mr.Leathernwasatall,fair,dyspeptic-lookingmanwithasomewhatmournfulexpression.
Mr.PointzandMr.Steinwereturningawayfromthedarts.Mr.PointzwaschucklingandMr.Steinwaslookingsomewhatrueful.
“It’sallamatterofluck,”hewassaying.
Mr.Pointzslappedhispocketcheerfully.
“Tookafiveroffyouallright.Skill,myboy,skill.MyoldDadwasafirstclassdartsplayer.Well,folks,let’sbegettingalong.Hadyourfortunetold,Eve?Didtheytellyoutobewareofadarkman?”
“Adarkwoman,”correctedEve.“She’sgotacastinhereyeandshe’llberealmeantomeifIgiveherachance.AndI’mtobemarriedbythetimeI’mseventeen….”
SheranonhappilyasthepartysteereditswaytotheRoyalGeorge.
DinnerhadbeenorderedbeforehandbytheforethoughtofMr.Pointzandabowingwaiterledthemupstairsandintoaprivateroomonthefirstfloor.Herearoundtablewasreadylaid.Thebigbulgingbowwindowopenedontheharboursquareandwasopen.Thenoiseofthefaircameuptothem,andtheraucoussquealofthreeroundaboutseachblaringadifferenttune.
“Bestshutthatifwe’retohearourselvesspeak,”observedMr.Pointzdrily,andsuitedtheactiontotheword.
TheytooktheirseatsroundthetableandMr.Pointzbeamedaffectionatelyathisguests.Hefelthewasdoingthemwellandhelikedtodopeoplewell.Hiseyerestedononeafteranother.LadyMarroway—finewoman—notquitethegoods,ofcourse,heknewthat—hewasperfectlywellawarethatwhathehadcalledallhislifethecrêmedelacrêmewouldhaveverylittletodowiththeMarroways—butthenthecrêmedelacrêmeweresupremelyunawareofhisownexistence.Anyway,LadyMarrowaywasadamnedsmart-lookingwoman—andhedidn’tmindifshedidrookhimatBridge.Didn’tenjoyitquitesomuchfromSirGeorge.Fishyeyethefellowhad.Brazenlyonthemake.Buthewouldn’tmaketoomuchoutofIsaacPointz.He’dseetothatallright
OldLeathernwasn’tabadfellow—longwinded,ofcourse,likemostAmericans—fondoftellingendlesslongstories.Andhehadthatdisconcertinghabitofrequiringpreciseinformation.WhatwasthepopulationofDartmouth?InwhatyearhadtheNavalCollegebeenbuilt?Andsoon.ExpectedhishosttobeakindofwalkingBaedeker.Evewasanicecheerykid—heenjoyedchaffingher.Voiceratherlikeacorncake,butshehadallherwitsabouther.Abrightkid.
YoungLlewellyn—heseemedabitquiet.Lookedasthoughhehadsomethingonhismind.Hardup,probably.Thesewritingfellowsusuallywere.LookedasthoughhemightbekeenonJanetRustington.Anicewoman—attractiveandclever,too.Butshedidn’tramherwritingdownyourthroat.Highbrowsortofstuffshewrotebutyou’dneverthinkittohearhertalk.AndoldLeo!Hewasn’tgettingyoungerorthinner.Andblissfullyunawarethathispartnerwasatthatmomentthinkingpreciselythesamethingabouthim,Mr.PointzcorrectedMr.LeathernastopilchardsbeingconnectedwithDevonandnotCornwall,andpreparedtoenjoyhisdinner.
“Mr.Pointz,”saidEvewhenplatesofhotmackerelhadbeensetbeforethemandthewaitershadlefttheroom.
“Yes,younglady.”
“Haveyougotthatbigdiamondwithyourightnow?Theoneyoushoweduslastnightandsaidyoualwaystookaboutwithyou?”
Mr.Pointzchuckled.
“That’sright.Mymascot,Icallit.Yes,I’vegotitwithmeallright.”
“Ithinkthat’sawfullydangerous.Somebodymightgetitawayfromyouinthecrowdatthefair.”
“Notthey,”saidMr.Pointz.“I’lltakegoodcareofthat.”
“Buttheymight,”insistedEve.“You’vegotgangstersinEnglandaswellaswehave,haven’tyou?”
“Theywon’tgettheMorningStar,”saidMr.Pointz.“Tobeginwithit’sinaspecialinnerpocket.Andanyway—oldPointzknowswhathe’sabout.Nobody’sgoingtostealtheMorningStar.”
Evelaughed.
“Ugh-huh—betIcouldstealit!”
“Ibetyoucouldn’t.”Mr.Pointztwinkledbackather.
“Well,IbetIcould.Iwasthinkingaboutitlastnightinbed—afteryou’dhandeditroundthetable,forusalltolookat.Ithoughtofarealcutewaytostealit.”
“Andwhat’sthat?”
Eveputherheadononeside,herfairhairwaggedexcitedly.“I’mnottellingyou—now.WhatdoyoubetIcouldn’t?”
MemoriesofMr.Pointz’syouthroseinhismind.
“Halfadozenpairsofgloves,”hesaid.
“Gloves,”criedEvedisgustedly.“Whowearsgloves?”
“Well—doyouwearnylonstockings?”
“DoInot?Mybestpairranthismorning.”
“Verywell,then.Halfadozenpairsofthefinestnylonstockings—”
“Oo-er,”saidEveblissfully.“Andwhataboutyou?”
“Well,Ineedanewtobaccopouch.”
“Right.That’sadeal.Notthatyou’llgetyourtobaccopouch.NowI’lltellyouwhatyou’vegottodo.Youmusthanditroundlikeyoudidlastnight—”
Shebrokeoffastwowaitersenteredtoremovetheplates.Whentheywerestartingonthenextcourseofchicken,Mr.Pointzsaid:
“Rememberthis,youngwoman,ifthisistorepresentarealtheft,Ishouldsendforthepoliceandyou’dbesearched.”
“That’squiteOKbyme.Youneedn’tbequitesolifelikeastobringthepoliceintoit.ButLadyMarrowayorMrs.Rustingtoncandoallthesearchingyoulike.”
“Well,that’sthatthen,”saidMr.Pointz.“Whatareyousettinguptobe?Afirstclassjewelthief?”
“Imighttaketoitasacareer—ifitreallypaid.”
“IfyougotawaywiththeMorningStaritwouldpayyou.Evenafterrecuttingthatstonewouldbeworthoverthirtythousandpounds.”
“My!”saidEve,impressed.“What’sthatindollars?”
LadyMarrowayutteredanexclamation.
“Andyoucarrysuchastoneaboutwithyou?”shesaidreproachfully.“Thirtythousandpounds.”Herdarkenedeyelashesquivered.
Mrs.Rustingtonsaidsoftly:“It’salotofmoney…Andthenthere’sthefascinationofthestoneitself…It’sbeautiful.”
“Justapieceofcarbon,”saidEvanLlewellyn.
“I’vealwaysunderstoodit’sthe‘fence’that’sthedifficultyinjewelrobberies,”saidSirGeorge.“Hetakesthelion’sshare—eh,what?”
“Comeon,”saidEveexcitedly.“Let’sstart.Takethediamondoutandsaywhatyousaidlastnight.”
Mr.Leathernsaidinhisdeepmelancholyvoice,“Idoapologizeformyoffspring.Shegetskinderworkedup—”
“That’lldo,Pops,”saidEve.“Nowthen,Mr.Pointz—”
Smiling,Mr.Pointzfumbledinaninnerpocket.Hedrewsomethingout.Itlayonthepalmofhishand,blinkinginthelight.
“Adiamond….”
Ratherstiffly,Mr.PointzrepeatedasfarashecouldrememberhisspeechofthepreviouseveningontheMerrimaid.
“Perhapsyouladiesandgentlemenwouldliketohavealookatthis?It’sanunusuallybeautifulstone.IcallittheMorningStarandit’sbywayofbeingmymascot—goesaboutwithmeanywhere.Liketoseeit?”
HehandedittoLadyMarroway,whotookit,exclaimedatitsbeautyandpassedittoMr.Leathernwhosaid,“Prettygood—yes,prettygood,”inasomewhatartificialmannerandinhisturnpassedittoLlewellyn.
Thewaiterscominginatthatmoment,therewasaslighthitchintheproceedings.Whentheyhadgoneagain,Evansaid,“Veryfinestone,”andpassedittoLeoSteinwhodidnottroubletomakeanycommentbuthandeditquicklyontoEve.
“Howperfectlylovely,”criedEveinahighaffectedvoice.
“Oh!”Shegaveacryofconsternationasitslippedfromherhand.“I’vedroppedit.”
Shepushedbackherchairandgotdowntogropeunderthetable.SirGeorgeatherright,bentalso.Aglassgotsweptoffthetableintheconfusion.Stein,LlewellynandMrs.Rustingtonallhelpedinthesearch.FinallyLadyMarrowayjoinedin.
OnlyMr.Pointztooknopartintheproceedings.Heremainedinhisseatsippinghiswineandsmilingsardonically.
“Oh,dear,”saidEve,stillinherartificialmanner,“Howdreadful!Wherecanithaverolledto?Ican’tfinditanywhere.”
Onebyonetheassistantsearchersrosetotheirfeet.
“It’sdisappearedallright,Pointz,”saidSirGeorgesmiling.
“Verynicelydone,”saidMr.Pointz,noddingapproval.“You’dmakeaverygoodactress,Eve.Nowthequestionis,haveyouhiddenitsomewhereorhaveyougotitonyou?”
“Searchme,”saidEvedramatically.
Mr.Pointz’eyesoughtoutalargescreeninthecorneroftheroom.
HenoddedtowardsitandthenlookedatLadyMarrowayandMrs.Rustington.
“Ifyouladieswillbesogood—”
“Why,certainly,”saidLadyMarroway,smiling.
Thetwowomenrose.
LadyMarrowaysaid,“Don’tbeafraid,Mr.Pointz.We’llvetherproperly.”
Thethreewentbehindthescreen.
Theroomwashot.EvanLlewellynflungopenthewindow.Anewsvendorwaspassing.Evanthrewdownacoinandthemanthrewupapaper.
Llewellynunfoldedit.
“Hungariansituation’snonetoogood,”hesaid.
“Thatthelocalrag?”askedSirGeorge.“There’sahorseI’minterestedinoughttohaverunatHaldontoday—NattyBoy.”
“Leo,”saidMr.Pointz.“Lockthedoor.Wedon’twantthosedamnedwaiterspoppinginandouttillthisbusinessisover.”
“NattyBoywonthreetoone,”saidEvan.
“Rottenodds,”saidSirGeorge.
“MostlyRegattanews,”saidEvan,glancingoverthesheet.
Thethreeyoungwomencameoutfromthescreen.
“Notasignofit,”saidJanetRustington.
“Youcantakeitfrommeshehasn’tgotitonher,”saidLadyMarroway.
Mr.Pointzthoughthewouldbequitereadytotakeitfromher.Therewasagrimtoneinhervoiceandhefeltnodoubtthatthesearchhadbeenthorough.
“Say,Eve,youhaven’tswallowedit?”askedMr.Leathernanxiously.“Becausemaybethatwouldn’tbetoogoodforyou.”
“I’dhaveseenherdothat,”saidLeoSteinquietly.“Iwaswatchingher.Shedidn’tputanythinginhermouth.”
“Icouldn’tswallowagreatthingallpointslikethat,”saidEve.SheputherhandsonherhipsandlookedatMr.Pointz.“Whataboutit,bigboy?”sheasked.
“Youstandovertherewhereyouareanddon’tmove,”saidthatgentleman.
Amongthem,themenstrippedthetableandturneditupsidedown.Mr.Pointzexaminedeveryinchofit.ThenhetransferredhisattentiontothechaironwhichEvehadbeensittingandthoseoneithersideofher.
Thethoroughnessofthesearchleftnothingtobedesired.Theotherfourmenjoinedinandthewomenalso.EveLeathernstoodbythewallnearthescreenandlaughedwithintenseenjoyment.
FiveminuteslaterMr.Pointzrosewithaslightgroanfromhiskneesanddustedhistrouserssadly.Hispristinefreshnesswassomewhatimpaired.
“Eve,”hesaid.“Itakeoffmyhattoyou.You’rethefinestthinginjewelthievesI’veevercomeacross.Whatyou’vedonewiththatstonebeatsme.AsfarasIcanseeitmustbeintheroomasitisn’tonyou.Igiveyoubest.”
“Arethestockingsmine?”demandedEve.
“They’reyours,younglady.”
“Eve,mychild,wherecanyouhavehiddenit?”demandedMrs.Rustingtoncuriously.
Eveprancedforward.
“I’llshowyou.You’llallbejustmadwithyourselves.”
Shewentacrosstothesidetablewherethethingsfromthedinnertablehadbeenroughlystacked.Shepickedupherlittleblackeveningbag—
“Rightunderyoureyes.Right….”
Hervoice,gayandtriumphant,trailedoffsuddenly.
“Oh,”shesaid.“Oh…”
“What’sthematter,honey?”saidherfather.
Evewhispered:“It’sgone…it’sgone….”
“What’sallthis?”askedPointz,comingforward.
Eveturnedtohimimpetuously.
“Itwaslikethis.Thispochetteofminehasabigpastestoneinthemiddleoftheclasp.ItfelloutlastnightandjustwhenyouwereshowingthatdiamondroundInoticedthatitwasmuchthesamesize.AndsoIthoughtinthenightwhatagoodideaforarobberyitwouldbetowedgeyourdiamondintothegapwithabitofplasticine.Ifeltsurenobodywouldeverspotit.That’swhatIdidtonight.FirstIdroppedit—thenwentdownafteritwiththebaginmyhand,stuckitintothegapwithabitofplasticinewhichIhadhandy,putmybagonthetableandwentonpretendingtolookforthediamond.IthoughtitwouldbelikethePurloinedLetter—youknow—lyingthereinfullviewunderallyournoses—andjustlookinglikeacommonbitofrhinestone.Anditwasagoodplan—noneofyoudidnotice.”
“Iwonder,”saidMr.Stein.
“Whatdidyousay?”
Mr.Pointztookthebag,lookedattheemptyholewithafragmentofplasticinestilladheringtoitandsaidslowly:“Itmayhavefallenout.We’dbetterlookagain.”
Thesearchwasrepeated,butthistimeitwasacuriouslysilentbusiness.Anatmosphereoftensionpervadedtheroom
Finallyeveryoneinturngaveitup.Theystoodlookingateachother.
“It’snotinthisroom,”saidStein.
“Andnobody’slefttheroom,”saidSirGeorgesignificantly.
Therewasamoment’spause.Eveburstintotears.
Herfatherpattedherontheshoulder.
“There,there,”hesaidawkwardly.
SirGeorgeturnedtoLeoStein.
“Mr.Stein,”hesaid.“Justnowyoumurmuredsomethingunderyourbreath.WhenIaskedyoutorepeatit,yousaiditwasnothing.ButasamatteroffactIheardwhatyousaid.MissEvehadjustsaidthatnoneofusnoticedtheplacewhereshehadputthediamond.Thewordsyoumurmuredwere:‘Iwonder.’Whatwehavetofaceistheprobabilitythatonepersondidnotice—thatthatpersonisinthisroomnow.Isuggestthattheonlyfairandhonourablethingisforeveryonepresenttosubmittoasearch.Thediamondcannothavelefttheroom.”
WhenSirGeorgeplayedthepartoftheoldEnglishgentleman,nonecouldplayitbetter.Hisvoicerangwithsincerityandindignation.
“Bitunpleasant,allthis,”saidMr.Pointzunhappily.
“It’sallmyfault,”sobbedEve.“Ididn’tmean—”
“Buckup,kiddo,”saidMr.Steinkindly.“Nobody’sblamingyou.”
Mr.Leathernsaidinhisslowpedanticmanner:
“Why,certainly,IthinkthatSirGeorge’ssuggestionwillmeetwiththefullestapprovalfromallofus.Itdoesfromme.”
“Iagree,”saidEvanLlewellyn.
Mrs.RustingtonlookedatLadyMarrowaywhonoddedabriefassent.ThetwoofthemwentbackbehindthescreenandthesobbingEveaccompaniedthem.
Awaiterknockedonthedoorandwastoldtogoaway.
Fiveminuteslatereightpeoplelookedateachotherincredulously.
TheMorningStarhadvanishedintospace….
Mr.ParkerPynelookedthoughtfullyatthedarkagitatedfaceoftheyoungmanoppositehim.
“Ofcourse,”hesaid.“You’reWelsh,Mr.Llewellyn.”
“What’sthatgottodowithit?”
Mr.ParkerPynewavedalarge,well-cared-forhand.
“Nothingatall,Iadmit.Iaminterestedintheclassificationofemotionalreactionsasexemplifiedbycertainracialtypes.Thatisall.Letusreturntotheconsiderationofyourparticularproblem.”
“Idon’treallyknowwhyIcametoyou,”saidEvanLlewellyn.Hishandstwitchednervously,andhisdarkfacehadahaggardlook.HedidnotlookatMr.ParkerPyneandthatgentleman’sscrutinyseemedtomakehimuncomfortable.“Idon’tknowwhyIcametoyou,”herepeated.“ButwheretheHellcanIgo?AndwhattheHellcanIdo?It’sthepowerlessnessofnotbeingabletodoanythingatallthatgetsme…IsawyouradvertisementandIrememberedthatachaphadoncespokenofyouandsaidthatyougotresults…And—well—Icame!IsupposeIwasafool.It’sthesortofpositionnobodycandoanythingabout.”
“Notatall,”saidMr.ParkerPyne.“Iamtheproperpersontocometo.Iamaspecialistinunhappiness.Thisbusinesshasobviouslycausedyouagooddealofpain.Youaresurethefactsareexactlyasyouhavetoldme?”
“Idon’tthinkI’veleftoutanything.Pointzbroughtoutthediamondandpasseditaround—thatwretchedAmericanchildstuckitonherridiculousbagandwhenwecametolookatthebag,thediamondwasgone.Itwasn’tonanyone—oldPointzhimselfevenwassearched—hesuggestedithimself—andI’llswearitwasnowhereinthatroom!Andnobodylefttheroom—”
“Nowaiters,forinstance?”suggestedMr.ParkerPyne.
Llewellynshookhishead.
“Theywentoutbeforethegirlbeganmessingaboutwiththediamond,andafterwardsPointzlockedthedoorsoastokeepthemout.No,itliesbetweenoneofus.”
“Itwouldcertainlyseemso,”saidMr.ParkerPynethoughtfully.
“Thatdamnedeveningpaper,”saidEvanLlewellynbitterly.“Isawitcomeintotheirminds—thatthatwastheonlyway—”
“Justtellmeagainexactlywhatoccurred.”
“Itwasperfectlysimple.Ithrewopenthewindow,whistledtotheman,threwdownacopperandhetossedmeupthepaper.Andthereitis,yousee—theonlypossiblewaythediamondcouldhavelefttheroom—thrownbymetoanaccomplicewaitinginthestreetbelow.”
“Nottheonlypossibleway,”saidMr.ParkerPyne.
“Whatotherwaycanyousuggest?”
“Ifyoudidn’tthrowitout,theremusthavebeensomeotherway.”
“Oh,Isee.Ihopedyoumeantsomethingmoredefinitethanthat.Well,IcanonlysaythatIdidn’tthrowitout.Ican’texpectyoutobelieveme—oranyoneelse.”
“Oh,yes,Ibelieveyou,”saidMr.ParkerPyne.
“Youdo?Why?”
“Notacriminaltype,”saidMr.ParkerPyne.“Not,thatis,theparticularcriminaltypethatstealsjewellery.Therearecrimes,ofcourse,thatyoumightcommit—butwewon’tenterintothatsubject.AtanyrateIdonotseeyouasthepurloineroftheMorningStar.”
“Everyoneelsedoesthough,”saidLlewellynbitterly.
“Isee,”saidMr.ParkerPyne.
“Theylookedatmeinaqueersortofwayatthetime.Marrowaypickedupthepaperandjustglancedoveratthewindow.Hedidn’tsayanything.ButPointzcottonedontoitquickenough!Icouldseewhattheythought.Therehasn’tbeenanyopenaccusation,that’sthedevilofit.”
Mr.ParkerPynenoddedsympathetically.
“Itisworsethanthat,”hesaid.
“Yes.It’sjustsuspicion.I’vehadafellowroundaskingquestions—routineinquiries,hecalledit.Oneofthenewdress-shirtedlotofpolice,Isuppose.Verytactful—nothingatallhinted.JustinterestedinthefactthatI’dbeenhardupandwassuddenlycuttingabitofasplash.”
“Andwereyou?”
“Yes—someluckwithahorseortwo.Unluckilymybetsweremadeonthecourse—there’snothingtoshowthatthat’showthemoneycamein.Theycan’tdisproveit,ofcourse—butthat’sjustthesortofeasylieafellowwouldinventifhedidn’twanttoshowwherethemoneycamefrom.”
“Iagree.Stilltheywillhavetohaveagooddealmorethanthattogoupon.”
“Oh!I’mnotafraidofactuallybeingarrestedandchargedwiththetheft.Inawaythatwouldbeeasier—onewouldknow,whereonewas.It’stheghastlyfactthatallthosepeoplebelieveItookit.”
“Onepersoninparticular?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Asuggestion—nothingmore—”AgainMr.ParkerPynewavedhiscomfortable-lookinghand.“Therewasonepersoninparticular,wasn’tthere?ShallwesayMrs.Rustington?”
Llewellyn’sdarkfaceflushed.
“Whypitchonher?”
“Oh,mydearsir—thereisobviouslysomeonewhoseopinionmatterstoyougreatly—probablyalady.Whatladieswerethere?AnAmericanflapper?LadyMarroway?ButyouwouldprobablyrisenotfallinLadyMarroway’sestimationifyouhadbroughtoffsuchacoup.Iknowsomethingofthelady.Clearlythen,Mrs.Rustington.”
Llewellynsaidwithsomethingofaneffort,
“She—she’shadratheranunfortunateexperience.Herhusbandwasadownandoutrotter.It’smadeherunwillingtotrustanyone.She—ifshethinks—”
Hefounditdifficulttogoon.
“Quiteso,”saidMr.ParkerPyne.“Iseethematterisimportant.Itmustbeclearedup.”
Evangaveashortlaugh.
“That’seasytosay.”
“Andquiteeasytodo,”saidMr.ParkerPyne.
“Youthinkso?”
“Oh,yes—theproblemissoclearcut.Somanypossibilitiesareruledout.Theanswermustreallybeextremelysimple.IndeedalreadyIhaveakindofglimmering—”
Llewellynstaredathimincredulously.
Mr.ParkerPynedrewapadofpapertowardshimandpickedupapen.
“Perhapsyouwouldgivemeabriefdescriptionoftheparty.”
“Haven’tIalreadydoneso?”
“Theirpersonalappearance—colourofhairandsoon.”
“But,Mr.ParkerPyne,whatcanthathavetodowithit?”
“Agooddeal,youngman,agooddeal.Classificationandsoon.”
Somewhatunbelievingly,Evandescribedthepersonalappearanceofthemembersoftheyachtingparty.
Mr.ParkerPynemadeanoteortwo,pushedawaythepadandsaid:
“Excellent.Bytheway,didyousayawineglasswasbroken?”
Evanstaredagain.
“Yes,itwasknockedoffthetableandthenitgotsteppedon.”
“Nastything,splintersofglass,”saidMr.ParkerPyne.“Whosewineglasswasit?”
“Ithinkitwasthechild’s—Eve.”
“Ah!—andwhosatnexttoheronthatside?”
“SirGeorgeMarroway.”
“Youdidn’tseewhichofthemknockeditoffthetable?”
“AfraidIdidn’t.Doesitmatter?”
“Notreally.No.Thatwasasuperfluousquestion.Well”—hestoodup—“goodmorning,Mr.Llewellyn.Willyoucallagaininthreedays’time?Ithinkthewholethingwillbequitesatisfactorilyclearedupbythen.”
“Areyoujoking,Mr.ParkerPyne?”
“Ineverjokeonprofessionalmatters,mydearsir.Itwouldoccasiondistrustinmyclients.ShallwesayFridayateleventhirty?Thankyou.”
EvanenteredMr.ParkerPyne’sofficeontheFridaymorninginaconsiderableturmoil.Hopeandscepticismfoughtformastery.
Mr.ParkerPynerosetomeethimwithabeamingsmile.
“Goodmorning,Mr.Llewellyn.Sitdown.Haveacigarette?”
Llewellynwavedasidetheprofferedbox
“Well?”hesaid.
“Verywellindeed,”saidMr.ParkerPyne.“Thepolicearrestedtheganglastnight.”
“Thegang?Whatgang?”
“TheAmalfigang.Ithoughtofthematoncewhenyoutoldmeyourstory.Irecognizedtheirmethodsandonceyouhaddescribedtheguests,well,therewasnodoubtatallinmymind.”
“WhoaretheAmalfigang?”
“Father,sonanddaughter-in-law—thatisifPietroandMariaarereallymarried—whichsomedoubt.”
“Idon’tunderstand.”
“It’squitesimple.ThenameisItalianandnodoubttheoriginisItalian,butoldAmalfiwasborninAmerica.Hismethodsareusuallythesame.Heimpersonatesarealbusinessman,introduceshimselftosomeprominentfigureinthejewelbusinessinsomeEuropeancountryandthenplayshislittletrick.InthiscasehewasdeliberatelyonthetrackoftheMorningStar.Pointz’idiosyncrasywaswellknowninthetrade.MariaAmalfiplayedthepartofhisdaughter(amazingcreature,twenty-sevenatleast,andnearlyalwaysplaysapartofsixteen).”
“NotEve!”gaspedLlewellyn.
“Exactly.ThethirdmemberoftheganggothimselftakenonasanextrawaiterattheRoyalGeorge—itwasholidaytime,remember,andtheywouldneedextrastaff.Hemayevenhavebribedaregularmantostayaway.Thesceneisset.EvechallengesoldPointzandhetakesonthebet.Hepassesroundthediamondashehaddonethenightbefore.ThewaitersentertheroomandLeathernretainsthestoneuntiltheyhavelefttheroom.Whentheydoleave,thediamondleavesalso,neatlyattachedwithamorselofchewinggumtotheundersideoftheplatethatPietrobearsaway.Sosimple!”
“ButIsawitafterthat.”
“No,no,yousawapastereplica,goodenoughtodeceiveacasualglance.Stein,youtoldme,hardlylookedatit.Evedropsit,sweepsoffaglasstooandstepsfirmlyonstoneandglasstogether.Miraculousdisappearanceofdiamond.BothEveandLeatherncansubmittoasmuchsearchingasanyonepleases.”
“Well—I’m—”Evanshookhishead,atalossforwords.
“Yousayyourecognizedthegangfrommydescription.Hadtheyworkedthistrickbefore?”
“Notexactly—butitwastheirkindofbusiness.NaturallymyattentionwasatoncedirectedtothegirlEve.”
“Why?Ididn’tsuspecther—nobodydid.Sheseemedsucha—suchachild.”
“ThatisthepeculiargeniusofMariaAmalfi.Sheismorelikeachildthananychildcouldpossiblybe!Andthentheplasticine!Thisbetwassupposedtohavearisenquitespontaneously—yetthelittleladyhadsomeplasticinewithherallhandy.Thatspokeofpremeditation.Mysuspicionsfastenedonheratonce.”
Llewellynrosetohisfeet.
“Well,Mr.ParkerPyne,I’mnoendobligedtoyou.”
“Classification,”murmuredMr.ParkerPyne.“Theclassificationofcriminaltypes—itinterestsme.”
“You’llletmeknowhowmuch—er—”
“Myfeewillbequitemoderate,”saidMr.ParkerPyne.“Itwillnotmaketoobigaholeinthe—er—horseracingprofits.Allthesame,youngman,Ishould,Ithink,leavethehorsesaloneinfuture.Veryuncertainanimal,thehorse.”
“That’sallright,”saidEvan.
HeshookMr.ParkerPynebythehandandstrodefromtheoffice.
HehailedataxiandgavetheaddressofJanetRustington’sflat.
Hefeltinamoodtocarryallbeforehim.
Two
THEMYSTERYOFTHEBAGHDADCHEST
“TheMysteryoftheBaghdadChest”wasfirstpublishedinStrandMagazine,January1932,andintheUSAas“TheMysteryoftheBagdadChest”inLadies’HomeJournalthesamemonth.Itwaslaterexpandedinto“TheMysteryoftheSpanishChest”forthebookTheAdventureoftheChristmasPuddingandaSelectionofEntrées(Collins,October1960),appearingfirstintheUSAinthreepartsinWomen’sIllustrated,17and24Septemberand1October1960.
Thewordsmadeacatchyheadline,andIsaidasmuchtomyfriend,HerculePoirot.Iknewnoneoftheparties.Myinterestwasmerelythedispassionateoneofthemaninthestreet.Poirotagreed.
“Yes,ithasaflavouroftheOriental,ofthemysterious.ThechestmayverywellhavebeenashamJacobeanonefromtheTottenhamCourtRoad;nonethelessthereporterwhothoughtofnamingittheBaghdadChestwashappilyinspired.Theword‘mystery’isalsothoughtfullyplacedinjuxtaposition,thoughIunderstandthereisverylittlemysteryaboutthecase.”
“Exactly.Itisallratherhorribleandmacabre,butitisnotmysterious.”
“Horribleandmacabre,”repeatedPoirotthoughtfully.
“Thewholeideaisrevolting,”Isaid,risingtomyfeetandpacingupanddowntheroom.“Themurdererkillsthisman—hisfriend—shoveshimintothechest,andhalfanhourlaterisdancinginthatsameroomwiththewifeofhisvictim.Think!Ifshehadimaginedforonemoment—”
“True,”saidPoirotthoughtfully.“Thatmuch-vauntedpossession,awoman’sintuition—itdoesnotseemtohavebeenworking.”
“Thepartyseemstohavegoneoffverymerrily,”Isaidwithaslightshiver.“Andallthattime,astheydancedandplayedpoker,therewasadeadmanintheroomwiththem.Onecouldwriteaplayaboutsuchanidea.”
“Ithasbeendone,”saidPoirot.“Butconsoleyourself,Hastings,”headdedkindly.“Becauseathemehasbeenusedonce,thereisnoreasonwhyitshouldnotbeusedagain.Composeyourdrama.”
Ihadpickedupthepaperandwasstudyingtheratherblurredreproductionofaphotograph.
“Shemustbeabeautifulwoman,”Isaidslowly.“Evenfromthis,onegetsanidea.”
Belowthepicturerantheinscription:
ArecentportraitofMrs.Clayton,thewifeofthemurderedman
Poirottookthepaperfromme.
“Yes,”hesaid.“Sheisbeautiful.Doubtlesssheisofthoseborntotroublethesoulsofmen.”
Hehandedthepaperbacktomewithasigh.
“Dieumerci,Iamnotofanardenttemperament.Ithassavedmefrommanyembarrassments.Iamdulythankful.”
Idonotrememberthatwediscussedthecasefurther.Poirotdisplayednospecialinterestinitatthetime.Thefactsweresoclear,andtherewassolittleambiguityaboutthem,thatdiscussionseemedmerelyfutile.
Mr.andMrs.ClaytonandMajorRichwerefriendsoffairlylongstanding.Onthedayinquestion,thetenthofMarch,theClaytonshadacceptedaninvitationtospendtheeveningwithMajorRich.Ataboutseventhirty,however,Claytonexplainedtoanotherfriend,aMajorCurtiss,withwhomhewashavingadrink,thathehadbeenunexpectedlycalledtoScotlandandwasleavingbytheeighto’clocktrain.
“I’lljusthavetimetodropinandexplaintooldJack,”wentonClayton.“Margueritaisgoing,ofcourse.I’msorryaboutit,butJackwillunderstandhowitis.”
Mr.Claytonwasasgoodashisword.HearrivedatMajorRich’sroomsabouttwentytoeight.Themajorwasoutatthetime,buthismanservant,whoknewMr.Claytonwell,suggestedthathecomeinandwait.Mr.Claytonsaidthathehadnotime,butthathewouldcomeinandwriteanote.Headdedthathewasonhiswaytocatchatrain.
Thevaletaccordinglyshowedhimintothesittingroom.
AboutfiveminuteslaterMajorRich,whomusthavelethimselfinwithoutthevalethearinghim,openedthedoorofthesittingroom,calledhismanandtoldhimtogooutandgetsomecigarettes.Onhisreturnthemanbroughtthemtohismaster,whowasthenaloneinthesittingroom.ThemannaturallyconcludedthatMr.Claytonhadleft.
Theguestsarrivedshortlyafterwards.TheycomprisedMrs.Clayton,MajorCurtissandaMr.andMrs.Spence.Theeveningwasspentdancingtothephonographandplayingpoker.Theguestsleftshortlyaftermidnight.
Thefollowingmorning,oncomingtodothesittingroom,thevaletwasstartledtofindadeepstaindiscolouringthecarpetbelowandinfrontofapieceoffurniturewhichMajorRichhadbroughtfromtheEastandwhichwascalledtheBaghdadChest.
Instinctivelythevaletliftedthelidofthechestandwashorrifiedtofindinsidethedoubled-upbodyofamanwhohadbeenstabbedtotheheart.
Terrified,themanranoutoftheflatandfetchedthenearestpoliceman.ThedeadmanprovedtobeMr.Clayton.ThearrestofMajorRichfollowedveryshortlyafterward.Themajor’sdefence,itwasunderstood,consistedofasturdydenialofeverything.HehadnotseenMr.ClaytontheprecedingeveningandthefirsthehadheardofhisgoingtoScotlandhadbeenfromMrs.Clayton.
Suchwerethebaldfactsofthecase.Innuendoesandsuggestionsnaturallyabounded.TheclosefriendshipandintimacyofMajorRichandMrs.Claytonweresostressedthatonlyafoolcouldfailtoreadbetweenthelines.Themotiveforthecrimewasplainlyindicated.
Longexperiencehastaughtmetomakeallowanceforbaselesscalumny.Themotivesuggestedmight,foralltheevidence,beentirelynonexistent.Somequiteotherreasonmighthaveprecipitatedtheissue.Butonethingdidstandoutclearly—thatRichwasthemurderer.
AsIsay,themattermighthaverestedthere,haditnothappenedthatPoirotandIweredueatapartygivenbyLadyChattertonthatnight.
Poirot,whilstbemoaningsocialengagementsanddeclaringapassionforsolitude,reallyenjoyedtheseaffairsenormously.Tobemadeafussofandtreatedasalionsuitedhimdowntotheground
Onoccasionshepositivelypurred!Ihaveseenhimblandlyreceivingthemostoutrageouscomplimentsasnomorethanhisdue,andutteringthemostblatantlyconceitedremarks,suchasIcanhardlybeartosetdown.
Sometimeshewouldarguewithmeonthesubject.
“But,myfriend,IamnotanAnglo-Saxon.WhyshouldIplaythehypocrite?Si,si,thatiswhatyoudo,allofyou.Theairmanwhohasmadeadifficultflight,thetennischampion—theylookdowntheirnoses,theymutterinaudiblythat‘itisnothing.’Butdotheyreallythinkthatthemselves?Notforamoment.Theywouldadmiretheexploitinsomeoneelse.So,beingreasonablemen,theyadmireitinthemselves.Buttheirtrainingpreventsthemfromsayingso.Me,Iamnotlikethat.ThetalentsthatIpossess—Iwouldsalutetheminanother.Asithappens,inmyownparticularline,thereisnoonetotouchme.C’estdommage!Asitis,IadmitfreelyandwithouthypocrisythatIamagreatman.Ihavetheorder,themethodandthepsychologyinanunusualdegree.Iam,infact,HerculePoirot!WhyshouldIturnredandstammerandmutterintomychinthatreallyIamverystupid?Itwouldnotbetrue.”
“ThereiscertainlyonlyoneHerculePoirot,”Iagreed—notwithoutaspiceofmaliceofwhich,fortunately,Poirotremainedquiteoblivious.
LadyChattertonwasoneofPoirot’smostardentadmirers.StartingfromthemysteriousconductofaPekingese,hehadunravelledachainwhichledtoanotedburglarandhousebreaker.LadyChattertonhadbeenloudinhispraiseseversince.
ToseePoirotatapartywasagreatsight.Hisfaultlesseveningclothes,theexquisitesetofhiswhitetie,theexactsymmetryofhishairparting,thesheenofpomadeonhishair,andthetorturedsplendourofhisfamousmoustaches—allcombinedtopainttheperfectpictureofaninveteratedandy.Itwashard,atthesemoments,totakethelittlemanseriously.
ItwasabouthalfpastelevenwhenLadyChatterton,bearingdownuponus,whiskedPoirotneatlyoutofanadmiringgroup,andcarriedhimoff—Ineedhardlysay,withmyselfintow.
“Iwantyoutogointomylittleroomupstairs,”saidLadyChattertonratherbreathlesslyassoonasshewasoutofearshotofherotherguests.“Youknowwhereitis,M.Poirot.You’llfindsomeonetherewhoneedsyourhelpverybadly—andyouwillhelpher,Iknow.She’soneofmydearestfriends—sodon’tsayno.”
Energeticallyleadingthewayasshetalked,LadyChattertonflungopenadoor,exclaimingasshedidso,“I’vegothim,Margueritadarling.Andhe’lldoanythingyouwant.YouwillhelpMrs.Clayton,won’tyou,M.Poirot?”
Andtakingtheanswerforgranted,shewithdrewwiththesameenergythatcharacterizedallhermovements.
Mrs.Claytonhadbeensittinginachairbythewindow.Sherosenowandcametowardus.Dressedindeepmourning,thedullblackshowedupherfaircolouring.Shewasasingularlylovelywoman,andtherewasaboutherasimplechildlikecandourwhichmadehercharmquiteirresistible.
“AliceChattertonissokind,”shesaid.“Shearrangedthis.Shesaidyouwouldhelpme,M.Poirot.OfcourseIdon’tknowwhetheryouwillornot—butIhopeyouwill.”
ShehadheldoutherhandandPoirothadtakenit.Hehelditnowforamomentortwowhilehestoodscrutinizingherclosely.Therewasnothingill-bredinhismannerofdoingit.Itwasmorethekindbutsearchinglookthatafamousconsultantgivesanewpatientasthelatterisusheredintohispresence.
“Areyousure,madame,”hesaidatlast,“thatIcanhelpyou?”
“Alicesaysso.”
“Yes,butIamaskingyou,madame.”
Alittleflushrosetohercheeks.
“Idon’tknowwhatyoumean.”
“Whatisit,madame,thatyouwantmetodo?”
“You—you—knowwhoIam?”sheasked.
“Assuredly.”
“ThenyoucanguesswhatitisIamaskingyoutodo,M.Poirot—CaptainHastings”—Iwasgratifiedthatsherealizedmyidentity—“MajorRichdidnotkillmyhusband.”
“Whynot?”
“Ibegyourpardon?”
Poirotsmiledatherslightdiscomfiture.
“Isaid,‘Whynot?’”herepeated.
“I’mnotsurethatIunderstand.”
“Yetitisverysimple.Thepolice—thelawyers—theywillallaskthesamequestion:WhydidMajorRichkillM.Clayton?Iasktheopposite.Iaskyou,madame,whydidMajorRichnotkillMr.Clayton.”
“Youmean—whyI’msosure?Well,butIknow.IknowMajorRichsowell.”
“YouknowMajorRichsowell,”repeatedPoirottonelessly.
Thecolourflamedintohercheeks.
“Yes,that’swhatthey’llsay—whatthey’llthink!Oh,Iknow!”
“C’estvrai.Thatiswhattheywillaskyouabout—howwellyouknewMajorRich.Perhapsyouwillspeakthetruth,perhapsyouwilllie.Itisverynecessaryforawomantolie,itisagoodweapon.Buttherearethreepeople,madame,towhomawomanshouldspeakthetruth.ToherFatherConfessor,toherhairdresserandtoherprivatedetective—ifshetrustshim.Doyoutrustme,madame?”
MargueritaClaytondrewadeepbreath.“Yes,”shesaid.“Ido.Imust,”sheaddedratherchildishly.
“Then,howwelldoyouknowMajorRich?”
Shelookedathimforamomentinsilence,thensheraisedherchindefiantly.
“Iwillansweryourquestion.IlovedJackfromthefirstmomentIsawhim—twoyearsago.LatelyIthink—Ibelieve—hehascometoloveme.Buthehasneversaidso.”
“épatant!”saidPoirot.“Youhavesavedmeagoodquarterofanhourbycomingtothepointwithoutbeatingthebush.Youhavethegoodsense.Nowyourhusband—didhesuspectyourfeelings?”
“Idon’tknow,”saidMargueritaslowly.“Ithought—lately—thathemight.Hismannerhasbeendifferent…Butthatmayhavebeenmerelymyfancy.”
“Nobodyelseknew?”
“Idonotthinkso.”
“And—pardonme,madame—youdidnotloveyourhusband?”
Therewere,Ithink,veryfewwomenwhowouldhaveansweredthatquestionassimplyasthiswomandid.Theywouldhavetriedtoexplaintheirfeelings.
MargueritaClaytonsaidquitesimply:“No.”
“Bien.Nowweknowwhereweare.Accordingtoyou,madame,MajorRichdidnotkillyourhusband,butyourealizethatalltheevidencepointstohishavingdoneso.Areyouaware,privately,ofanyflawinthatevidence?”
“No.Iknownothing.”
“WhendidyourhusbandfirstinformyouofhisvisittoScotland?”
“Justafterlunch.Hesaiditwasabore,buthe’dhavetogo.Somethingtodowithlandvalues,hesaiditwas.”
“Andafterthat?”
“Hewentout—tohisclub,Ithink.I—Ididn’tseehimagain.”
“NowastoMajorRich—whatwashismannerthatevening?Justasusual?”
“Yes,Ithinkso.”
“Youarenotsure?”
Margueritawrinkledherbrows.
“Hewas—alittleconstrained.Withme—notwiththeothers.ButIthoughtIknewwhythatwas.Youunderstand?Iamsuretheconstraintor—or—absentmindednessperhapsdescribesitbetter—hadnothingtodowithEdward.HewassurprisedtohearthatEdwardhadgonetoScotland,butnotundulyso.”
“Andnothingelseunusualoccurstoyouinconnectionwiththatevening?”
Margueritathought.
“No,nothingwhatever.”
“You—noticedthechest?”
Sheshookherheadwithalittleshiver
“Idon’tevenrememberit—orwhatitwaslike.Weplayedpokermostoftheevening.”
“Whowon?”
“MajorRich.Ihadverybadluck,andsodidMajorCurtiss.TheSpenceswonalittle,butMajorRichwasthechiefwinner.”
“Thepartybrokeup—when?”
“Abouthalfpasttwelve,Ithink.Wealllefttogether.”
“Ah!”
Poirotremainedsilent,lostinthought
“IwishIcouldbemorehelpfultoyou,”saidMrs.Clayton.“Iseemtobeabletotellyousolittle.”
“Aboutthepresent—yes.Whataboutthepast,madame?”
“Thepast?”
“Yes.Havetherenotbeenincidents?”
Sheflushed.
“Youmeanthatdreadfullittlemanwhoshothimself.Itwasn’tmyfault,M.Poirot.Indeeditwasn’t.”
“ItwasnotpreciselyofthatincidentthatIwasthinking.”
“Thatridiculousduel?ButItaliansdofightduels.Iwassothankfulthemanwasn’tkilled.”
“Itmusthavebeenarelieftoyou,”agreedPoirotgravely.
Shewaslookingathimdoubtfully.Heroseandtookherhandinhis.
“Ishallnotfightaduelforyou,madame,”hesaid.“ButIwilldowhatyouhaveaskedme.Iwilldiscoverthetruth.Andletushopethatyourinstinctsarecorrect—thatthetruthwillhelpandnotharmyou.”
OurfirstinterviewwaswithMajorCurtiss.Hewasamanofaboutforty,ofsoldierlybuild,withverydarkhairandabronzedface.HehadknowntheClaytonsforsomeyearsandMajorRichalso.Heconfirmedthepressreports.
Claytonandhehadhadadrinktogetherattheclubjustbeforehalfpastseven,andClaytonhadthenannouncedhisintentionoflookinginonMajorRichonhiswaytoEuston.
“WhatwasMr.Clayton’smanner?Washedepressedorcheerful?”
Themajorconsidered.Hewasaslow-spokenman.
“Seemedinfairlygoodspirits,”hesaidatlast.
“HesaidnothingaboutbeingonbadtermswithMajorRich?”
“GoodLord,no.Theywerepals.”
“Hedidn’tobjectto—hiswife’sfriendshipwithMajorRich?”
Themajorbecameveryredintheface.
“You’vebeenreadingthosedamnednewspapers,withtheirhintsandlies.Ofcoursehedidn’tobject.Why,hesaidtome:‘Marguerita’sgoing,ofcourse.’”
“Isee.Nowduringtheevening—themannerofMajorRich—wasthatmuchasusual?”
“Ididn’tnoticeanydifference.”
“Andmadame?She,too,wasasusual.”
“Well,”hereflected,“nowIcometothinkofit,shewasabitquiet.Youknow,thoughtfulandfaraway.”
“Whoarrivedfirst?”
“TheSpences.TheyweretherewhenIgotthere.Asamatteroffact,I’dcalledroundforMrs.Clayton,butfoundshe’dalreadystarted.SoIgotthereabitlate.”
“Andhowdidyouamuseyourselves?Youdanced?Youplayedthecards?”
“Abitofboth.Dancedfirstofall.”
“Therewerefiveofyou?”
“Yes,butthat’sallright,becauseIdon’tdance.Iputontherecordsandtheothersdanced.”
“Whodancedmostwithwhom?”
“Well,asamatteroffacttheSpenceslikedancingtogether.They’vegotasortofcrazeonit—fancystepsandallthat.”
“SothatMrs.ClaytondancedmostlywithMajorRich?”
“That’saboutit.”
“Andthenyouplayedpoker?”
“Yes.”
“Andwhendidyouleave?”
“Oh,quiteearly.Alittleaftermidnight.”
“Didyouallleavetogether?”
“Yes.Asamatteroffact,wesharedataxi,droppedMrs.Claytonfirst,thenme,andtheSpencestookitontoKensington.”
OurnextvisitwastoMr.andMrs.Spence.OnlyMrs.Spencewasathome,butheraccountoftheeveningtalliedwiththatofMajorCurtissexceptthatshedisplayedaslightacidityconcerningMajorRich’sluckatcards.
EarlierinthemorningPoirothadhadatelephoneconversationwithInspectorJappofScotlandYard.AsaresultwearrivedatMajorRich’sroomsandfoundhismanservant,Burgoyne,expectingus
Thevalet’sevidencewasverypreciseandclear.
Mr.Claytonhadarrivedattwentyminutestoeight.UnluckilyMajorRichhadjustthatveryminutegoneout.Mr.Claytonhadsaidthathecouldn’twait,ashehadtocatchatrain,buthewouldjustscrawlanote.Heaccordinglywentintothesittingroomtodoso.Burgoynehadnotactuallyheardhismastercomein,ashewasrunningthebath,andMajorRich,ofcourse,lethimselfinwithhisownkey.InhisopinionitwasabouttenminuteslaterthatMajorRichcalledhimandsenthimoutforcigarettes.No,hehadnotgoneintothesittingroom.MajorRichhadstoodinthedoorway.Hehadreturnedwiththecigarettesfiveminuteslaterandonthisoccasionhehadgoneintothesittingroom,whichwasthenempty,saveforhismaster,whowasstandingbythewindowsmoking.Hismasterhadinquiredifhisbathwerereadyandonbeingtolditwashadproceededtotakeit.He,Burgoyne,hadnotmentionedMr.Clayton,asheassumedthathismasterhadfoundMr.Claytonthereandlethimouthimself.Hismaster’smannerhadbeenpreciselythesameasusual.Hehadtakenhisbath,changed,andshortlyafter,Mr.andMrs.Spencehadarrived,tobefollowedbyMajorCurtissandMrs.Clayton.
Ithadnotoccurredtohim,Burgoyneexplained,thatMr.Claytonmighthaveleftbeforehismaster’sreturn.Todoso,Mr.Claytonwouldhavehadtobangthefrontdoorbehindhimandthatthevaletwassurehewouldhaveheard.
Stillinthesameimpersonalmanner,Burgoyneproceededtohisfindingofthebody.Forthefirsttimemyattentionwasdirectedtothefatalchest.Itwasagood-sizedpieceoffurniturestandingagainstthewallnexttothephonographcabinet.Itwasmadeofsomedarkwoodandplentifullystuddedwithbrassnails.Thelidopenedsimplyenough.Ilookedinandshivered.Thoughwellscrubbed,ominousstainsremained.
SuddenlyPoirotutteredanexclamation.“Thoseholesthere—theyarecurious.Onewouldsaythattheyhadbeennewlymade.”
Theholesinquestionwereatthebackofthechestagainstthewall.Therewerethreeorfourofthem.Theywereaboutaquarterofaninchindiameterandcertainlyhadtheeffectofhavingbeenfreshlymade.
Poirotbentdowntoexaminethem,lookinginquiringlyatthevalet.
“It’scertainlycurious,sir.Idon’tremembereverseeingthoseholesinthepast,thoughmaybeIwouldn’tnoticethem.”
“Itmakesnomatter,”saidPoirot.
Closingthelidofthechest,hesteppedbackintotheroomuntilhewasstandingwithhisbackagainstthewindow.Thenhesuddenlyaskedaquestion.
“Tellme,”hesaid.“Whenyoubroughtthecigarettesintoyourmasterthatnight,wastherenotsomethingoutofplaceintheroom?”
Burgoynehesitatedforaminute,thenwithsomeslightreluctancehereplied,“It’soddyoursayingthat,sir.Nowyoucometomentionit,therewas.Thatscreentherethatcutsoffthedraughtfromthebedroomdoor—itwasmovedabitmoretotheleft.”
“Likethis?”
Poirotdartednimblyforwardandpulledatthescreen.Itwasahandsomeaffairofpaintedleather.Italreadyslightlyobscuredtheviewofthechest,andasPoirotadjustedit,ithidthechestaltogether.
“That’sright,sir,”saidthevalet.“Itwaslikethat.”
“Andthenextmorning?”
“Itwasstilllikethat.Iremember.ImoveditawayanditwasthenIsawthestain.Thecarpet’sgonetobecleaned,sir.That’swhytheboardsarebare.”
Poirotnodded.
“Isee,”hesaid.“Ithankyou.”
Heplacedacrisppieceofpaperinthevalet’spalm.
“Thankyou,sir.”
“Poirot,”Isaidwhenwewereoutinthestreet,“thatpointaboutthescreen—isthatapointhelpfultoRich?”
“Itisafurtherpointagainsthim,”saidPoirotruefully.“Thescreenhidthechestfromtheroom.Italsohidthestainonthecarpet.Soonerorlaterthebloodwasboundtosoakthroughthewoodandstainthecarpet.Thescreenwouldpreventdiscoveryforthemoment.Yes—butthereissomethingtherethatIdonotunderstand.Thevalet,Hastings,thevalet.”
“Whataboutthevalet?Heseemedamostintelligentfellow.”
“Asyousay,mostintelligent.Isitcredible,then,thatMajorRichfailedtorealizethatthevaletwouldcertainlydiscoverthebodyinthemorning?Immediatelyafterthedeedhehadnotimeforanything—granted.Heshovesthebodyintothechest,pullsthescreeninfrontofitandgoesthroughtheeveninghopingforthebest.Butaftertheguestsaregone?Surely,thenisthetimetodisposeofthebody.”
“Perhapshehopedthevaletwouldn’tnoticethestain?”
“That,monami,isabsurd.Astainedcarpetisthefirstthingagoodservantwouldbeboundtonotice.
AndMajorRich,hegoestobedandsnorestherecomfortablyanddoesnothingatallaboutthematter.Veryremarkableandinteresting,that.”
“Curtissmighthaveseenthestainswhenhewaschangingtherecordsthenightbefore?”Isuggested.
“Thatisunlikely.Thescreenwouldthrowadeepshadowjustthere,No,butIbegintosee.Yes,dimlyIbegintosee.”
“Seewhat?”Iaskedeagerly.
“Thepossibilities,shallwesay,ofanalternativeexplanation.Ournextvisitmaythrowlightonthings.”
Ournextvisitwastothedoctorwhohadexaminedthebody.Hisevidencewasamererecapitulationofwhathehadalreadygivenattheinquest.Deceasedhadbeenstabbedtotheheartwithalongthinknifesomethinglikeastiletto.Theknifehadbeenleftinthewound.Deathhadbeeninstantaneous.TheknifewasthepropertyofMajorRichandusuallylayonhiswritingtable.Therewerenofingerprintsonit,thedoctorunderstood.Ithadbeeneitherwipedorheldinahandkerchief.Asregardstime,anytimebetweensevenandnineseemedindicated.
“Hecouldnot,forinstance,havebeenkilledaftermidnight?”askedPoirot.
“No.ThatIcansay.Teno’clockattheoutside—butseventhirtytoeightseemsclearlyindicated.”
“Thereisasecondhypothesispossible,”Poirotsaidwhenwewerebackhome.“Iwonderifyouseeit,Hastings.Tomeitisveryplain,andIonlyneedonepointtoclearupthematterforgoodandall.”
“It’snogood,”Isaid.“I’mnotthere.”
“Butmakeaneffort,Hastings.Makeaneffort.”
“Verywell,”Isaid.“Atseven-fortyClaytonisaliveandwell.ThelastpersontoseehimaliveisRich—”
“Soweassume.”
“Well,isn’titso?”
“Youforget,monami,thatMajorRichdeniesthat.HestatesexplicitlythatClaytonhadgonewhenhecamein.”
“ButthevaletsaysthathewouldhaveheardClaytonleavebecauseofthebangofthedoor.Andalso,ifClaytonhadleft,whendidhereturn?Hecouldn’thavereturnedaftermidnightbecausethedoctorsayspositivelythathewasdeadatleasttwohoursbeforethat.Thatonlyleavesonealternative.”
“Yes,monami?”saidPoirot.
“ThatinthefiveminutesClaytonwasaloneinthesittingroom,someoneelsecameinandkilledhim.Buttherewehavethesameobjection.Onlysomeonewithakeycouldcomeinwithoutthevalet’sknowing,andinthesamewaythemurdereronleavingwouldhavehadtobangthedoor,andthatagainthevaletwouldhaveheard.”
“Exactly,”saidPoirot.“Andtherefore—”
“Andtherefore—nothing,”Isaid.“Icanseenoothersolution.”
“Itisapity,”murmuredPoirot.“Anditisreallysoexceedinglysimple—astheclearblueeyesofMadameClayton.”
“Youreallybelieve—”
“Ibelievenothing—untilIhavegotproof.Onelittleproofwillconvinceme.”
HetookupthetelephoneandcalledJappatScotlandYard.
Twentyminuteslaterwewerestandingbeforealittleheapofassortedobjectslaidoutonatable.Theywerethecontentsofthedeadman’spockets.
Therewasahandkerchief,ahandfulofloosechange,apocketbookcontainingthreepoundstenshillings,acoupleofbillsandawornsnapshotofMargueritaClayton.Therewasalsoapocketknife,agoldpencilandacumbersomewoodentool.
ItwasonthislatterthatPoirotswooped.Heunscreweditandseveralsmallbladesfellout.
“Yousee,Hastings,agimletandalltherestofit.Ah!itwouldbeamatterofaveryfewminutestoboreafewholesinthechestwiththis.”
“Thoseholeswesaw?”
“Precisely.”
“YoumeanitwasClaytonwhoboredthemhimself?”
“Mais,oui—mais,oui!Whatdidtheysuggesttoyou,thoseholes?Theywerenottoseethrough,becausetheywereatthebackofthechest.Whatweretheyfor,then?Clearlyforair?Butyoudonotmakeairholesforadeadbody,soclearlytheywerenotmadebythemurderer.Theysuggestonething—andonethingonly—thatamanwasgoingtohideinthatchest.Andatonce,onthathypothesis,thingsbecomeintelligible.Mr.ClaytonisjealousofhiswifeandRich.Heplaystheold,oldtrickofpretendingtogoaway.HewatchesRichgoout,thenhegainsadmission,isleftalonetowriteanote,quicklyboresthoseholesandhidesinsidethechest.Hiswifeiscomingtherethatnight.PossiblyRichwillputtheothersoff,possiblyshewillremainaftertheothershavegone,orpretendtogoandreturn.Whateveritis,Claytonwillknow.Anythingispreferabletotheghastlytormentofsuspicionheisenduring.”
“ThenyoumeanthatRichkilledhimaftertheothershadgone?Butthedoctorsaidthatwasimpossible.”
“Exactly.Soyousee,Hastings,hemusthavebeenkilledduringtheevening.”
“Buteveryonewasintheroom!”
“Precisely,”saidPoirotgravely.“Youseethebeautyofthat?‘Everyonewasintheroom.’Whatanalibi!Whatsang-froid—whatnerve—whataudacity!”
“Istilldon’tunderstand.”
“Whowentbehindthatscreentowindupthephonographandchangetherecords?Thephonographandthechestweresidebyside,remember.Theothersaredancing—thephonographisplaying.Andthemanwhodoesnotdanceliftsthelidofthechestandthruststheknifehehasjustslippedintohissleevedeepintothebodyofthemanwhowashidingthere.”
“Impossible!Themanwouldcryout.”
“Notifheweredruggedfirst?”
“Drugged?”
“Yes.WhodidClaytonhaveadrinkwithatseventhirty?Ah!Nowyousee.Curtiss!CurtisshasinflamedClayton’smindwithsuspicionsagainsthiswifeandRich.Curtisssuggeststhisplan—thevisittoScotland,theconcealmentinthechest,thefinaltouchofmovingthescreen.NotsothatClaytoncanraisethelidalittleandgetrelief—no,sothathe,Curtiss,canraisethatlidunobserved.TheplanisCurtiss’s,andobservethebeautyofit,Hastings.IfRichhadobservedthescreenwasoutofplaceandmoveditback—well,noharmisdone.Hecanmakeanotherplan.Claytonhidesinthechest,themildnarcoticthatCurtisshadadministeredtakeseffect.Hesinksintounconsciousness.Curtissliftsupthelidandstrikes—andthephonographgoesonplaying‘WalkingMyBabyBackHome.’”
Ifoundmyvoice.“Why?Butwhy?”
Poirotshruggedhisshoulders.
“Whydidamanshoothimself?WhydidtwoItaliansfightaduel?Curtissisofadarkpassionatetemperament.HewantedMargueritaClayton.WithherhusbandandRichoutoftheway,shewould,orsohethought,turntohim.”
Headdedmusingly:
“Thesesimplechildlikewomen…theyareverydangerous.ButmonDieu!whatanartisticmasterpiece!Itgoestomyhearttohangamanlikethat.Imaybeageniusmyself,butIamcapableofrecognizinggeniusinotherpeople.Aperfectmurder,monami.I,HerculePoirot,sayittoyou.Aperfectmurder.épatant!”
Three
HOWDOESYOURGARDENGROW?
I
HerculePoirotarrangedhislettersinaneatpileinfrontofhim.Hepickedupthetopmostletter,studiedtheaddressforamoment,thenneatlyslitthebackoftheenvelopewithalittlepaperknifethathekeptonthebreakfasttableforthatexpresspurposeandextractedthecontents.Insidewasyetanotherenvelope,carefullysealedwithpurplewaxandmarked“PrivateandConfidential.”
HerculePoirot’seyebrowsrosealittleonhisegg-shapedhead.Hemurmured,“Patience!Nousallonsarriver!”andoncemorebroughtthelittlepaperknifeintoplay.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.Idonotfeelmyselfclearheadedenoughnowadays—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;”“cut;”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-cheekedmaidfellbackandusheredPoirotintoasittingroomontherightofthehall.Then,cardinhand,shedepartedtosummonhermistress.
HerculePoirotlookedroundhim.Theroomwasaperfectlyconventionaldrawingroom—oatmeal-colouredpaperwithafriezeroundthetop,indeterminatecretonnes,rose-colouredcushionsandcurtains,agoodmanychinaknickknacksandornaments.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.”
Mr.Delafontainehadenteredsoquietlythathisarrivalhadpassedunnoticed.Hewasatallmanwithgrizzledhairandanindeterminatemanner.Hehadanervouswayoffingeringhischin.Helookedoftentowardshiswife,anditwasplainthatheexpectedhertotaketheleadinanyconversation.
“ImustregretthatIintrudeinthemidstofyourbereavement,”saidHerculePoirot.
“Iquiterealizethatitisnotyourfault,”saidMrs.Delafontaine.“MyauntdiedonTuesdayevening.Itwasquiteunexpected.”
“Mostunexpected,”saidMr.Delafontaine.“Greatblow.”Hiseyeswatchedthewindowwheretheforeigngirlhaddisappeared.
“Iapologize,”saidHerculePoirot.“AndIwithdraw.”Hemovedasteptowardsthedoor.
“Halfasec,”saidMr.Delafontaine.“You—er—hadanappointmentwithAuntAmelia,yousay?”
“Parfaitement.”
“Perhapsyouwilltellusaboutit,”saidhiswife.“Ifthereisanythingwecando—”
“Itwasofaprivatenature,”saidPoirot.“Iamadetective,”headdedsimply.
Mr.Delafontaineknockedoveralittlechinafigurehewashandling.Hiswifelookedpuzzled.
“Adetective?AndyouhadanappointmentwithAuntie?Buthowextraordinary!”Shestaredathim.“Can’tyoutellusalittlemore,M.Poirot?It—itseemsquitefantastic.”
Poirotwassilentforamoment.Hechosehiswordswithcare.
“Itisdifficultforme,madame,toknowwhattodo.”
“Lookhere,”saidMr.Delafontaine.“Shedidn’tmentionRussians,didshe?”
“Russians?”
“Yes,youknow—Bolshies,Reds,allthatsortofthing.”
“Don’tbeabsurd,Henry,”saidhiswife.
Mr.Delafontainecollapsed.“Sorry—sorry—Ijustwondered.”
MaryDelafontainelookedfranklyatPoirot.Hereyeswereveryblue—thecolourofforget-me-nots.“Ifyoucantellusanything,M.Poirot,Ishouldbegladifyouwoulddoso.IcanassureyouthatIhavea—areasonforasking.”
Mr.Delafontainelookedalarmed.“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—asallowfacewatchinghimfromthefirstfloorwindow,andamanoferectandsoldierlycarriagepacingupanddownontheoppositesideofthestreet.
HerculePoirotnoddedtohimself.“Définitivement,”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’reawaitingtheresultofthepostmortem.We’vegotabitfurther.Thedoctorgaveusthetiprightaway—heandthepolicesurgeondidtheautopsytogether—andtheresultisinnodoubtwhatever.Theoldladydiedofalargedoseofstrychnine.”
“Aha!”
“That’sright.Verynastybitofwork.Pointis,whogaveittoher?Itmusthavebeenadministeredveryshortlybeforedeath.Firstideawasitwasgiventoherinherfoodatdinner—but,frankly,thatseemstobeawashout.Theyhadartichokesoup,servedfromatureen,fishpieandappletart.
“MissBarrowby,Mr.DelafontaineandMrs.Delafontaine.MissBarrowbyhadakindofnurse-attendant—ahalf-Russiangirl—butshedidn’teatwiththefamily.Shehadtheremainsastheycameoutfromthediningroom.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;oneofthosericepaperthingswithapowderinside.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.1—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:Mme.Delafontaine;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’sGreenandyouaretodiscoverafishmonger.”
“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.
Four
PROBLEMATPOLLENSABAY
“ProblematPollensaBay”wasfirstpublishedinStrandMagazine,November1935,andthenintheUSAas“SirenBusiness”inLiberty,5September1936.
ThesteamerfromBarcelonatoMajorcalandedMr.ParkerPyneatPalmaintheearlyhoursofthemorning—andstraightawayhemetwithdisillusionment.Thehotelswerefull!Thebestthatcouldbedoneforhimwasanairlesscupboardoverlookinganinnercourtinahotelinthecentreofthetown—andwiththatMr.ParkerPynewasnotpreparedtoputup.Theproprietorofthehotelwasindifferenttohisdisappointment.
“Whatwillyou?”heobservedwithashrug.
Palmawaspopularnow!Theexchangewasfavourable!Everyone—theEnglish,theAmericans—theyallcametoMajorcainthewinter.Thewholeplacewascrowded.ItwasdoubtfuliftheEnglishgentlemanwouldbeabletogetinanywhere—exceptperhapsatFormentorwherethepricesweresoruinousthatevenforeignersblenchedatthem.
Mr.ParkerPynepartookofsomecoffeeandarollandwentouttoviewthecathedral,butfoundhimselfinnomoodforappreciatingthebeautiesofarchitecture.
HenexthadaconferencewithafriendlytaxidriverininadequateFrenchinterlardedwithnativeSpanish,andtheydiscussedthemeritsandpossibilitiesofSoller,Alcudia,PollensaandFormentor—wheretherewerefinehotelsbutveryexpensive.
Mr.ParkerPynewasgoadedtoinquirehowexpensive.
Theyasked,saidthetaxidriver,anamountthatitwouldbeabsurdandridiculoustopay—wasitnotwellknownthattheEnglishcameherebecausepriceswerecheapandreasonable?
Mr.ParkerPynesaidthatthatwasquiteso,butallthesamewhatsumsdidtheychargeatFormentor?
Apriceincredible!
Perfectly—butWHATPRICEEXACTLY?
Thedriverconsentedatlasttoreplyintermsoffigures.
FreshfromtheexactionsofhotelsinJerusalemandEgypt,thefiguredidnotstaggerMr.ParkerPyneunduly.
Abargainwasstruck,Mr.ParkerPyne’ssuitcaseswereloadedonthetaxiinasomewhathaphazardmanner,andtheystartedofftodriveroundtheisland,tryingcheaperhostelriesenroutebutwiththefinalobjectiveofFormentor.
Buttheyneverreachedthatfinalabodeofplutocracy,foraftertheyhadpassedthroughthenarrowstreetsofPollensaandwerefollowingthecurvedlineoftheseashore,theycametotheHotelPinod’Oro—asmallhotelstandingontheedgeofthesealookingoutoveraviewthatinthemistyhazeofafinemorninghadtheexquisitevaguenessofa
TheelderlycoupletowhomthehotelbelongedknewnoEnglishorFrench.Neverthelessthematterwasconcludedsatisfactorily.Mr.ParkerPynewasallottedaroomoverlookingthesea,thesuitcaseswereunloaded,thedrivercongratulatedhispassengeruponavoidingthemonstrousexigenciesof“thesenewhotels,”receivedhisfareanddepartedwith
Mr.ParkerPyneglancedathiswatchandperceivingthatitwas,evennow,butaquartertoten,hewentoutontothesmallterracenowbathedinadazzlingmorninglightandordered,forthesecondtimethatmorning,coffeeandrolls
Therewerefourtablesthere,hisown,onefromwhichbreakfastwasbeingclearedawayandtwooccupiedones.Attheonenearesthimsatafamilyoffatherandmotherandtwoelderlydaughters—Germans.Beyondthem,atthecorneroftheterrace,satwhatwereclearlyanEnglishmotherandson.
Thewomanwasaboutfifty-five.Shehadgreyhairofaprettytone—wassensiblybutnotfashionablydressedinatweedcoatandskirt—andhadthatcomfortableself-possessionwhichmarksanEnglishwomanusedtomuchtravellingabroad.
Theyoungmanwhosatoppositehermighthavebeentwenty-fiveandhetoowastypicalofhisclassandage.Hewasneithergood-lookingnorplain,tallnorshort.Hewasclearlyonthebestoftermswithhismother—theymadelittlejokestogether—andhewasassiduousinpassingherthings.
Astheytalked,hereyemetthatofMr.ParkerPyne.Itpassedoverhimwithwell-brednonchalance,butheknewthathehadbeenassimilatedandlabelled.
HehadbeenrecognizedasEnglishanddoubtless,induecourse,somepleasantnoncommittalremarkwouldbeaddressedtohim.
Mr.ParkerPynehadnoparticularobjection.Hisowncountrymenandwomenabroadwereinclinedtoborehimslightly,buthewasquitewillingtopassthetimeofdayinanamiablemanner.Inasmallhotelitcausedconstraintifonedidnotdoso.Thisparticularwoman,hefeltsure,hadexcellent“hotelmanners,”asheputit.
TheEnglishboyrosefromhisseat,madesomelaughingremarkandpassedintothehotel.Thewomantookherlettersandbagandsettledherselfinachairfacingthesea.SheunfoldedacopyoftheContinentalDailyMail.HerbackwastoMr.ParkerPyne.
Ashedrankthelastdropofhiscoffee,Mr.ParkerPyneglancedinherdirection,andinstantlyhestiffened.Hewasalarmed—alarmedforthepeacefulcontinuanceofhisholiday!Thatbackwashorriblyexpressive.Inhistimehehadclassifiedmanysuchbacks.Itsrigidity—thetensenessofitspoise—withoutseeingherfaceheknewwellenoughthattheeyeswerebrightwithunshedtears—thatthewomanwaskeepingherselfinhandbyarigideffort.
Movingwarily,likeamuch-huntedanimal,Mr.ParkerPyneretreatedintothehotel.Nothalfanhourbeforehehadbeeninvitedtosignhisnameinthebooklyingonthedesk.Thereitwas—aneatsignature—C.ParkerPyne,London.
AfewlinesaboveMr.ParkerPynenoticedtheentries:Mrs.R.Chester,Mr.BasilChester—HolmPark,Devon.
Seizingapen,Mr.ParkerPynewroterapidlyoverhissignature.Itnowread(withdifficulty)ChristopherPyne.
IfMrs.R.ChesterwasunhappyinPollensaBay,itwasnotgoingtobemadeeasyforhertoconsultMr.ParkerPyne.
Alreadyithadbeenasourceofabidingwondertothatgentlemanthatsomanypeoplehehadcomeacrossabroadshouldknowhisnameandhavenotedhisadvertisements.InEnglandmanythousandsofpeoplereadtheTimeseverydayandcouldhaveansweredquitetruthfullythattheyhadneverheardsuchanameintheirlives.Abroad,hereflected,theyreadtheirnewspapersmorethoroughly.Noitem,noteventheadvertisementcolumns,escapedthem.
Alreadyhisholidayshadbeeninterruptedonseveraloccasions.Hehaddealtwithawholeseriesofproblemsfrommurdertoattemptedblackmail.HewasdeterminedinMajorcatohavepeace.Hefeltinstinctivelythatadistressedmothermighttroublethatpeaceconsiderably
Mr.ParkerPynesettleddownatthePinod’Oroveryhappily.Therewasalargerhotelnotfaroff,theMariposa,whereagoodmanyEnglishpeoplestayed.Therewasalsoquiteanartistcolonylivingallaround.Youcouldwalkalongbytheseatothefishingvillagewheretherewasacocktailbarwherepeoplemet—therewereafewshops.Itwasallverypeacefulandpleasant.Girlsstrolledaboutintrouserswithbrightlycolouredhandkerchiefstiedroundtheupperhalvesoftheirbodies.Youngmeninberetswithratherlonghairheldforthin“Mac’sBar”onsuchsubjectsasplasticvaluesandabstractioninart.
OnthedayafterMr.ParkerPyne’sarrival,Mrs.Chestermadeafewconventionalremarkstohimonthesubjectoftheviewandthelikelihoodoftheweatherkeepingfine.ShethenchattedalittlewiththeGermanladyaboutknitting,andhadafewpleasantwordsaboutthesadnessofthepoliticalsituationwithtwoDanishgentlemenwhospenttheirtimerisingatdawnandwalkingforelevenhours.
Mr.ParkerPynefoundBasilChesteramostlikeableyoungman.HecalledMr.ParkerPyne“sir”andlistenedmostpolitelytoanythingtheoldermansaid.SometimesthethreeEnglishpeoplehadcoffeetogetherafterdinnerintheevening.Afterthethirdday,BasilleftthepartyaftertenminutesorsoandMr.ParkerPynewaslefttete-a-tetewith
Theytalkedaboutflowersandthegrowingofthem,ofthelamentablestateoftheEnglishpoundandofhowexpensiveFrancehadbecome,andofthedifficultyofgettinggoodafternoontea.
Everyeveningwhenhersondeparted,Mr.ParkerPynesawthequicklyconcealedtremorofherlips,butimmediatelysherecoveredanddiscoursedpleasantlyontheabove-mentionedsubjects.
LittlebylittleshebegantotalkofBasil—ofhowwellhehaddoneatschool—“hewasintheFirstXI,youknow”—ofhoweveryonelikedhim,ofhowproudhisfatherwouldhavebeenoftheboyhadhelived,ofhowthankfulshehadbeenthatBasilhadneverbeen“wild.”“OfcourseIalwaysurgehimtobewithyoungpeople,buthereallyseemstopreferbeingwithme.”
Shesaiditwithakindofnicemodestpleasureinthefact.
ButforonceMr.ParkerPynedidnotmaketheusualtactfulresponsehecouldusuallyachievesoeasily.Hesaidinstead:
“Oh!well,thereseemtobeplentyofyoungpeoplehere—notinthehotel,butroundabout.”
Atthat,henoticed,Mrs.Chesterstiffened.Shesaid:Ofcoursetherewerealotofartists.Perhapsshewasveryold-fashioned—realart,ofcourse,wasdifferent,butalotofyoungpeoplejustmadethatsortofthinganexcuseforloungingaboutanddoingnothing—andthegirlsdrankalottoomuch.
OnthefollowingdayBasilsaidtoMr.ParkerPyne:
“I’mawfullygladyouturneduphere,sir—especiallyformymother’ssake.Shelikeshavingyoutotalktointheevenings.”
“Whatdidyoudowhenyouwerefirsthere?”
“Asamatteroffactweusedtoplaypiquet.”
“Isee.”
“Ofcourseonegetsrathertiredofpiquet.AsamatteroffactI’vegotsomefriendshere—frightfullycheerycrowd.Idon’treallythinkmymotherapprovesofthem—”Helaughedasthoughhefeltthisoughttobeamusing.“Themater’sveryold-fashioned…Evengirlsintrousersshockher!”
“Quiteso,”saidMr.ParkerPyne.
“WhatItellheris—one’sgottomovewiththetimes…Thegirlsathomeroundusarefrightfullydull….”
“Isee,”saidMr.ParkerPyne.
Allthisinterestedhimwellenough.Hewasaspectatorofaminiaturedrama,buthewasnotcalledupontotakepartinit.
Andthentheworst—fromMr.ParkerPyne’spointofview—happened.AgushingladyofhisacquaintancecametostayattheMariposa.TheymetintheteashopinthepresenceofMrs.Chester.
Thenewcomerscreamed:
“Why—ifitisn’tMr.ParkerPyne—theoneandonlyMr.ParkerPyne!AndAdelaChester!Doyouknoweachother?Oh,youdo?You’restayingatthesamehotel?He’stheoneandonlyoriginalwizard,Adela—themarvelofthecentury—allyourtroublessmoothedoutwhileyouwait!Didn’tyouknow?Youmusthaveheardabouthim?Haven’tyoureadhisadvertisements?‘Areyouintrouble?ConsultMr.ParkerPyne.’There’sjustnothinghecan’tdo.Husbandsandwivesflyingateachother’sthroatsandhebrings’emtogether—ifyou’velostinterestinlifehegivesyouthemostthrillingadventures.AsIsaytheman’sjustawizard!”
Itwentonagooddeallonger—Mr.ParkerPyneatintervalsmakingmodestdisclaimers.HedislikedthelookthatMrs.Chesterturneduponhim.Hedislikedevenmoreseeingherreturnalongthebeachincloseconfabulationwiththegarruloussingerofhispraises.
Theclimaxcamequickerthanheexpected.Thatevening,aftercoffee,Mrs.Chestersaidabruptly,
“Willyoucomeintothelittlesalon,Mr.Pyne?ThereissomethingIwanttosaytoyou.”
Hecouldbutbowandsubmit.
Mrs.Chester’sself-controlhadbeenwearingthin—asthedoorofthelittlesalonclosedbehindthem,itsnapped.Shesatdownandburstintotears.
“Myboy,Mr.ParkerPyne.Youmustsavehim.Wemustsavehim.It’sbreakingmyheart!”
“Mydearlady,asamereoutsider—”
“NinaWycherleysaysyoucandoanything.ShesaidIwastohavetheutmostconfidenceinyou.Sheadvisedmetotellyoueverything—andthatyou’dputthewholethingright.”
InwardlyMr.ParkerPynecursedtheobtrusiveMrs.Wycherley.
Resigninghimselfhesaid:
“Well,letusthrashthematterout.Agirl,Isuppose?”
“Didhetellyouabouther?”
“Onlyindirectly.”
WordspouredinavehementstreamfromMrs.Chester.“Thegirlwasdreadful.Shedrank,sheswore—sheworenoclothestospeakof.Hersisterlivedouthere—wasmarriedtoanartist—aDutchman.Thewholesetwasmostundesirable.Halfofthemwerelivingtogetherwithoutbeingmarried.Basilwascompletelychanged.Hehadalwaysbeensoquiet,sointerestedinserioussubjects.Hehadthoughtatonetimeoftakinguparchaeology—”
“Well,well,”saidMr.ParkerPyne.“Naturewillhaveherrevenge.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Itisn’thealthyforayoungmantobeinterestedinserioussubjects.Heoughttobemakinganidiotofhimselfoveronegirlafteranother.”
“Pleasebeserious,Mr.Pyne.”
“I’mperfectlyserious.Istheyounglady,byanychance,theonewhohadteawithyouyesterday?”
Hehadnoticedher—hergreyflanneltrousers—thescarlethandkerchieftiedlooselyaroundherbreast—thevermilionmouthandthefactthatshehadchosenacocktailinpreferencetotea.
“Yousawher?Terrible!NotthekindofgirlBasilhaseveradmired.”
“Youhaven’tgivenhimmuchchancetoadmireagirl,haveyou?”
“I?”
“He’sbeentoofondofyourcompany!Bad!However,Idaresayhe’llgetoverthis—ifyoudon’tprecipitatematters.”
“Youdon’tunderstand.Hewantstomarrythisgirl—BettyGregg—they’reengaged.”
“It’sgoneasfarasthat?”
“Yes.Mr.ParkerPyne,youmustdosomething.Youmustgetmyboyoutofthisdisastrousmarriage!Hiswholelifewillberuined.”
“Nobody’slifecanberuinedexceptbythemselves.”
“Basil’swillbe,”saidMrs.Chesterpositively.
“I’mnotworryingaboutBasil.”
“You’renotworryingaboutthegirl?”
“No,I’mworryingaboutyou.You’vebeensquanderingyourbirthright.”
Mrs.Chesterlookedathim,slightlytakenaback.
“Whataretheyearsfromtwentytoforty?Fetteredandboundbypersonalandemotionalrelationships.That’sboundtobe.That’sliving.Butlaterthere’sanewstage.Youcanthink,observelife,discoversomethingaboutotherpeopleandthetruthaboutyourself.Lifebecomesreal—significant.Youseeitasawhole.Notjustonescene—thesceneyou,asanactor,areplaying.Nomanorwomanisactuallyhimself(orherself)tillafterforty-five.That’swhenindividualityhasachance.”
Mrs.Chestersaid:
“I’vebeenwrappedupinBasil.He’sbeeneverythingtome.”
“Well,heshouldn’thavebeen.That’swhatyou’repayingfornow.Lovehimasmuchasyoulike—butyou’reAdelaChester,remember,aperson—notjustBasil’smother.”
“ItwillbreakmyheartifBasil’slifeisruined,”saidBasil’smother.
Helookedatthedelicatelinesofherface,thewistfuldroopofhermouth.Shewas,somehow,alovablewoman.Hedidnotwanthertobehurt.Hesaid:
“I’llseewhatIcando.”
HefoundBasilChesteronlytooreadytotalk,eagertourgehispointofview
“Thisbusinessisbeingjusthellish.Mother’shopeless—prejudiced,narrow-minded.Ifonlyshe’dletherself,she’dseehowfineBettyis.”
“AndBetty?”
Hesighed.
“Betty’sbeingdamneddifficult!Ifshe’djustconformabit—Imeanleaveoffthelipstickforaday—itmightmakeallthedifference.Sheseemstogooutofherwaytobe—well—modern—whenMother’sabout.”
Mr.ParkerPynesmiled.
“BettyandMotheraretwoofthedearestpeopleintheworld,Ishouldhavethoughttheywouldhavetakentoeachotherlikehotcakes.”
“Youhavealottolearn,youngman,”saidMr.ParkerPyne.
“Iwishyou’dcomealongandseeBettyandhaveagoodtalkaboutitall.”
Mr.ParkerPyneacceptedtheinvitationreadily.
Bettyandhersisterandherhusbandlivedinasmalldilapidatedvillaalittlewaybackfromthesea.Theirlifewasofarefreshingsimplicity.Theirfurniturecomprisedthreechairs,atableandbeds.Therewasacupboardinthewallthatheldthebarerequirementsofcupsandplates.Hanswasanexcitableyoungmanwithwildblondhairthatstoodupalloverhishead.HespokeveryoddEnglishwithincrediblerapidity,walkingupanddownashedidso.Stella,hiswife,wassmallandfair.BettyGregghadredhairandfrecklesandamischievouseye.Shewas,henoticed,notnearlysomade-upasshehadbeenthepreviousdayatthePinod’Oro.
Shegavehimacocktailandsaidwithatwinkle:
“You’reinonthebigbust-up?”
Mr.ParkerPynenodded.
“Andwhosesideareyouon,bigboy?Theyounglovers—orthedisapprovingdame?”
“MayIaskyouaquestion?”
“Certainly.”
“Haveyoubeenverytactfuloverallthis?”
“Notatall,”saidMissGreggfrankly.“Buttheoldcatputmybackup.”(SheglancedroundtomakesurethatBasilwasoutofcarshot.)“Thatwomanjustmakesmefeelmad.She’skeptBasiltiedtoherapronstringsalltheseyears—thatsortofthingsmakesamanlookafool.Basilisn’tafoolreally.Thenshe’ssoterriblypukkasahib.”
“That’snotreallysuchabadthing.It’smerely‘unfashionable’justatpresent.”
BettyGregggaveasuddentwinkle.
“Youmeanit’slikeputtingChippendalechairsintheatticinVictoriandays?Lateryougetthemdownagainandsay,‘Aren’ttheymarvellous?’”
“Somethingofthekind.”
BettyGreggconsidered.
“Perhapsyou’reright.I’llbehonest.ItwasBasilwhoputmybackup—beingsoanxiousaboutwhatimpressionI’dmakeonhismother.Itdrovemetoextremes.EvennowIbelievehemightgivemeup—ifhismotherworkedonhimgoodandhard.”
“Hemight,”saidMr.ParkerPyne.“Ifshewentaboutittherightway.”
“Areyougoingtotellhertherightway?Shewon’tthinkofitherself,youknow.She’lljustgoondisapprovingandthatwon’tdothetrick.Butifyoupromptedher—”
Shebitherlip—raisedfrankblueeyestohis.
“I’veheardaboutyou,Mr.ParkerPyne.You’resupposedtoknowsomethingabouthumannature.
DoyouthinkBasilandIcouldmakeagoofit—ornot?”
“Ishouldlikeananswertothreequestions.”
“Suitabilitytest?Allright,goahead.”
“Doyousleepwithyourwindowopenorshut?”
“Open.Ilikelotsofair.”
“DoyouandBasilenjoythesamekindoffood?”
“Yes.”
“Doyoulikegoingtobedearlyorlate?”
“Really,undertherose,early.AthalfpasttenIyawn—andIsecretlyfeelratherheartyinthemornings—butofcourseIdaren’tadmitit.”
“Yououghttosuiteachotherverywell,”saidMr.ParkerPyne.
“Ratherasuperficialtest.”
“Notatall.Ihaveknownsevenmarriagesatleast,entirelywrecked,becausethehusbandlikedsittinguptillmidnightandthewifefellasleepathalfpastnineandviceversa.”
“It’sapity,”saidBetty,“thateverybodycan’tbehappy.BasilandI,andhismothergivingusherblessing.”
Mr.ParkerPynecoughed.
“Ithink,”hesaid,“thatthatcouldpossiblybemanaged.”
Shelookedathimdoubtfully.
“NowIwonder,”shesaid,“ifyou’redouble-crossingme?”
Mr.ParkerPyne’sfacetoldnothing.
ToMrs.Chesterhewassoothing,butvague.Anengagementwasnotmarriage.HehimselfwasgoingtoSollerforaweek.Hesuggestedthatherlineofactionshouldbenoncommittal.Letherappeartoacquiesce.
HespentaveryenjoyableweekatSoller.
Onhisreturnhefoundthatatotallyunexpecteddevelopmenthadarisen.
AsheenteredthePinod’OrothefirstthinghesawwasMrs.ChesterandBettyGregghavingteatogether.Basilwasnotthere.Mrs.Chesterlookedhaggard.Betty,too,waslookingoffcolour.Shewashardlymade-upatall,andhereyelidslookedasthoughshehadbeencrying.
Theygreetedhiminafriendlyfashion,butneitherofthemmentionedBasil.
Suddenlyheheardthegirlbesidehimdrawinherbreathsharplyasthoughsomethinghadhurther.Mr.ParkerPyneturnedhishead.
BasilChesterwascomingupthestepsfromtheseafront.Withhimwasagirlsoexoticallybeautifulthatitquitetookyourbreathaway.Shewasdarkandherfigurewasmarvellous.Noonecouldfailtonoticethefactsincesheworenothingbutasinglegarmentofpalebluecrêpe.Shewasheavilymade-upwithochrepowderandanorangescarletmouth—buttheunguentsonlydisplayedherremarkablebeautyinamorepronouncedfashion.AsforyoungBasil,heseemedunabletotakehiseyesfromherface
“You’reverylate,Basil,”saidhismother.“YouweretohavetakenBettytoMac’s.”
“Myfault,”drawledthebeautifulunknown.“Wejustdrifted.”SheturnedtoBasil.“Angel—getmesomethingwithakickinit!”
Shetossedoffhershoeandstretchedouthermanicuredtoenailswhichweredoneemeraldgreentomatchherfingernails.
Shepaidnoattentiontothetwowomen,butsheleanedalittletowardsMr.ParkerPyne.
“Terribleislandthis,”shesaid.“IwasjustdyingwithboredombeforeImetBasil.Heisratherapet!”
“Mr.ParkerPyne—MissRamona,”saidMrs.Chester.
Thegirlacknowledgedtheintroductionwithalazysmile.
“IguessI’llcallyouParkeralmostatonce,”shemurmured.“Myname’sDolores.”
Basilreturnedwiththedrinks.MissRamonadividedherconversation(whattherewasofit—itwasmostlyglances)betweenBasilandMr.ParkerPyne.Ofthetwowomenshetooknonoticewhatever.Bettyattemptedonceortwicetojoinintheconversationbuttheothergirlmerelystaredatherandyawned.
SuddenlyDoloresrose.
“GuessI’llbegoingalongnow.I’mattheotherhotel.Anyonecomingtoseemehome?”
Basilsprangup.
“I’llcomewithyou.”
Mrs.Chestersaid:“Basil,mydear—”
“I’llbebackpresently,Mother.”
“Isn’thethemother’sboy?”MissRamonaaskedoftheworldatlarge.“Justtootsroundafterher,don’tyou?”
Basilflushedandlookedawkward.MissRamonagaveanodinMrs.Chester’sdirection,adazzlingsmiletoMr.ParkerPyneandsheandBasilmovedofftogether.
Aftertheyhadgonetherewasratheranawkwardsilence.Mr.ParkerPynedidnotliketospeakfirst.BettyGreggwastwistingherfingersandlookingouttosea.Mrs.Chesterlookedflushedandangry.
Bettysaid:“Well,whatdoyouthinkofournewacquisitioninPollensaBay?”Hervoicewasnotquitesteady.
Mr.ParkerPynesaidcautiously:
“Alittle—er—exotic.”
“Exotic?”Bettygaveashortbitterlaugh.
Mrs.Chestersaid:“She’sterrible—terrible.Basilmustbequitemad.”
Bettysaidsharply:“Basil’sallright.”
“Hertoenails,”saidMrs.Chesterwithashiverofnausea.
Bettyrosesuddenly.
“Ithink,Mrs.Chester,I’llgohomeandnotstaytodinnerafterall.”
“Oh,mydear—Basilwillbesodisappointed.”
“Willhe?”askedBettywithashortlaugh.“Anyway,IthinkIwill.I’vegotratheraheadache.”
Shesmiledatthembothandwentoff.Mrs.ChesterturnedtoMr.ParkerPyne.
“Iwishwehadnevercometothisplace—never!”
Mr.ParkerPyneshookhisheadsadly.
“Youshouldn’thavegoneaway,”saidMrs.Chester.“Ifyou’dbeenherethiswouldn’thavehappened.”
Mr.ParkerPynewasstungtorespond.
“Mydearlady,Icanassureyouthatwhenitcomestoaquestionofabeautifulyoungwoman,Ishouldhavenoinfluenceoveryoursonwhatever.He—er—seemstobeofaverysusceptiblenature.”
“Heneverusedtobe,”saidMrs.Chestertearfully.
“Well,”saidMr.ParkerPynewithanattemptatcheerfulness,“thisnewattractionseemstohavebrokenthebackofhisinfatuationforMissGregg.Thatmustbesomesatisfactiontoyou.”
“Idon’tknowwhatyoumean,”saidMrs.Chester.“BettyisadearchildanddevotedtoBasil.Sheisbehavingextremelywelloverthis.Ithinkmyboymustbemad.”
Mr.ParkerPynereceivedthisstartlingchangeoffacewithoutwincing.Hehadmetinconsistencyinwomenbefore.Hesaidmildly:
“Notexactlymad—justbewitched.”
“Thecreature’saDago.She’simpossible.”
“Butextremelygood-looking.”
Mrs.Chestersnorted.
Basilranupthestepsfromtheseafront.
“Hullo,Mater,hereIam.Where’sBetty?”
“Betty’sgonehomewithaheadache.Idon’twonder.”
“Sulking,youmean.”
“Iconsider,Basil,thatyouarebeingextremelyunkindtoBetty.”
“ForGod’ssake,Mother,don’tjaw.IfBettyisgoingtomakethisfusseverytimeIspeaktoanothergirlanicesortoflifewe’llleadtogether.”
“Youareengaged.”
“Oh,we’reengagedallright.Thatdoesn’tmeanthatwe’renotgoingtohaveanyfriendsofourown.Nowadayspeoplehavetoleadtheirownlivesandtrytocutoutjealousy.”
Hepaused.
“Lookhere,ifBettyisn’tgoingtodinewithus—IthinkI’llgobacktotheMariposa.Theydidaskmetodine….”
“Oh,Basil—”
Theboygaveheranexasperatedlook,thenranoffdownthesteps.
Mrs.ChesterlookedeloquentlyatMr.ParkerPyne.
“Yousee,”shesaid.
Hesaw.
Matterscametoaheadacoupleofdayslater.BettyandBasilweretohavegoneforalongwalk,takingapicniclunchwiththem.BettyarrivedatthePinod’OrotofindthatBasilhadforgottentheplanandgoneovertoFormentorforthedaywithDoloresRamona’sparty
Beyondatighteningofthelipsthegirlmadenosign.Presently,however,shegotupandstoodinfrontofMrs.Chester(thetwowomenwerealoneontheterrace).
“It’squiteallright,”shesaid.“Itdoesn’tmatter.ButIthink—allthesame—thatwe’dbettercallthewholethingoff.”
SheslippedfromherfingerthesignetringthatBasilhadgivenher—hewouldbuytherealengagementringlater.
“WillyougivehimbackthisMrs.Chester?Andtellhimit’sallright—nottoworry….”
“Bettydear,don’t!Hedoesloveyou—really.”
“Itlookslikeit,doesn’tit?”saidthegirlwithashortlaugh.“No—I’vegotsomepride.Tellhimeverything’sallrightandthatI—Iwishhimluck.”
WhenBasilreturnedatsunsethewasgreetedbyastorm.
Heflushedalittleatthesightofhisring.
“Sothat’showshefeels,isit?Well,Idaresayit’sthebestthing.”
“Basil!”
“Well,frankly,Mother,wedon’tseemtohavebeenhittingitofflately.”
“Whosefaultwasthat?”
“Idon’tseethatitwasmineparticularly.Jealousy’sbeastlyandIreallydon’tseewhyyoushouldgetallworkedupaboutit.YoubeggedmeyourselfnottomarryBetty.”
“ThatwasbeforeIknewher.Basil—mydear—you’renotthinkingofmarryingthisothercreature.”
BasilChestersaidsoberly:
“I’dmarryherlikeashotifshe’dhaveme—butI’mafraidshewon’t.”
ColdchillswentdownMrs.Chester’sspine.ShesoughtandfoundMr.ParkerPyne,placidlyreadingabookinashelteredcorner.
“Youmustdosomething!Youmustdosomething!Myboy’slifewillberuined.”
Mr.ParkerPynewasgettingalittletiredofBasilChester’slifebeingruined.
“WhatcanIdo?”
“Goandseethisterriblecreature.Ifnecessarybuyheroff.”
“Thatmaycomeveryexpensive.”
“Idon’tcare.”
“Itseemsapity.Stillthereare,possibly,otherways.”
Shelookedaquestion.Heshookhishead.
“I’llmakenopromises—butI’llseewhatIcando.Ihavehandledthatkindbefore.Bytheway,notawordtoBasil—thatwouldbefatal.”
“Ofcoursenot.”
Mr.ParkerPynereturnedfromtheMariposaatmidnight.Mrs.Chesterwassittingupforhim.
“Well?”shedemandedbreathlessly.
Hiseyestwinkled.
“TheSe?oritaDoloresRamonawillleavePollensatomorrowmorningandtheislandtomorrownight.”
“Oh,Mr.ParkerPyne!Howdidyoumanageit?”
“Itwon’tcostacent,”saidMr.ParkerPyne.Againhiseyestwinkled.“IratherfanciedImighthaveaholdoverher—andIwasright.”
“Youarewonderful.NinaWycherleywasquiteright.Youmustletmeknow—er—yourfees—”
Mr.ParkerPyneheldupawell-manicuredhand.
“Notapenny.Ithasbeenapleasure.Ihopeallwillgowell.Ofcoursetheboywillbeveryupsetatfirstwhenhefindsshe’sdisappearedandleftnoaddress.Justgoeasywithhimforaweekortwo.”
“IfonlyBettywillforgivehim—”
“She’llforgivehimallright.They’reanicecouple.Bytheway,I’mleavingtomorrow,too.”
“Oh,Mr.ParkerPyne,weshallmissyou.”
“Perhapsit’sjustaswellIshouldgobeforethatboyofyoursgetsinfatuatedwithyetathirdgirl.”
Mr.ParkerPyneleanedovertherailofthesteamerandlookedatthelightsofPalma.BesidehimstoodDoloresRamona.Hewassayingappreciatively:
“Averynicepieceofwork,Madeleine.I’mgladIwiredyoutocomeout.It’soddwhenyou’resuchaquiet,stay-at-homegirlreally.”
MadeleinedeSara,aliasDoloresRamona,aliasMaggieSayers,saidprimly:“I’mgladyou’repleased,Mr.ParkerPyne.It’sbeenanicelittlechange.IthinkI’llgobelownowandgettobedbeforetheboatstarts.I’msuchabadsailor.”
AfewminuteslaterahandfellonMr.ParkerPyne’sshoulder.HeturnedtoseeBasilChester.
“Hadtocomeandseeyouoff,Mr.ParkerPyne,andgiveyouBetty’sloveandherandmybestthanks.Itwasagrandstuntofyours.BettyandMotherareasthickasthieves.Seemedashametodeceivetheolddarling—butshewasbeingdifficult.Anywayit’sallrightnow.Imustjustbecarefultokeepuptheannoyancestuffacoupleofdayslonger.We’renoendgratefultoyou,BettyandI.”
“Iwishyoueveryhappiness,”saidMr.ParkerPyne.
“Thanks.”
Therewasapause,thenBasilsaidwithsomewhatoverdonecarelessness:
“IsMiss—MissdeSara—anywhereabout?I’dliketothankher,too.”
Mr.ParkerPyneshotakeenglanceathim.
Hesaid:
“I’mafraidMissdeSara’sgonetobed.”
“Oh,toobad—well,perhapsI’llseeherinLondonsometime.”
“AsamatteroffactsheisgoingtoAmericaonbusinessformealmostatonce.”
“Oh!”Basil’stonewasblank.“Well,”hesaid.“I’llbegettingalong….”
Mr.ParkerPynesmiled.OnhiswaytohiscabinhetappedonthedoorofMadeleine’s.
“Howareyou,mydear?Allright?Ouryoungfriendhasbeenalong.TheusualslightattackofMadeleinitis.He’llgetoveritinadayortwo,butyouareratherdistracting.”
Five
YELLOWIRIS
“YellowIris”wasfirstpublishedinTheStrand,July1937.
HerculePoirotstretchedouthisfeettowardstheelectricradiatorsetinthewall.Itsneatarrangementofredhotbarspleasedhisorderlymind.
“Acoalfire,”hemusedtohimself,“wasalwaysshapelessandhaphazard!Neverdiditachievethesymmetry.”
Thetelephonebellrang.Poirotrose,glancingathiswatchashedidso.Thetimewascloseonhalfpasteleven.Hewonderedwhowasringinghimupatthishour.Itmight,ofcourse,beawrongnumber.
“Anditmight,”hemurmuredtohimselfwithawhimsicalsmile,“beamillionairenewspaperproprietor,founddeadinthelibraryofhiscountryhouse,withaspottedorchidclaspedinhislefthandandapagetornfromacookbookpinnedtohisbreast.”
Smilingatthepleasingconceit,heliftedthereceiver.
Immediatelyavoicespoke—asofthuskywoman’svoicewithakindofdesperateurgencyaboutit.
“IsthatM.HerculePoirot?IsthatM.HerculePoirot?”
“HerculePoirotspeaks.”
“M.Poirot—canyoucomeatonce—atonce—I’mindanger—ingreatdanger—Iknowit…”
Poirotsaidsharply:
“Whoareyou?Whereareyouspeakingfrom?”
Thevoicecamemorefaintlybutwithanevengreaterurgency.
“Atonce…it’slifeordeath…theJardindesCygnes…atonce…tablewithyellowirises…”
Therewasapause—aqueerkindofgasp—thelinewentdead.
HerculePoirothungup.Hisfacewaspuzzled.Hemurmuredbetweenhisteeth:
“Thereissomethinghereverycurious.”
InthedoorwayoftheJardindesCygnes,fatLuigihurriedforward.
“Buonasera,M.Poirot.Youdesireatable—yes?”
“No,no,mygoodLuigi.Iseekhereforsomefriends.Iwilllookround—perhapstheyarenothereyet.Ah,letmesee,thattablethereinthecornerwiththeyellowirises—alittlequestionbytheway,ifitisnotindiscreet.Onalltheothertablestherearetulips—pinktulips—whyonthatonetabledoyouhaveyellowirises?”
Luigishruggedhisexpressiveshoulders
“Acommand,Monsieur!Aspecialorder!Withoutdoubt,thefavouriteflowersofoneoftheladies.ThattableitisthetableofMr.BartonRussell—anAmerican—immenselyrich.”
“Aha,onemuststudythewhimsoftheladies,mustonenot,Luigi?”
“Monsieurhassaidit,”saidLuigi.
“Iseeatthattableanacquaintanceofmine.Imustgoandspeaktohim.”
Poirotskirtedhiswaydelicatelyroundthedancingflooronwhichcoupleswererevolving.Thetableinquestionwassetforsix,butithadatthemomentonlyoneoccupant,ayoungmanwhowasthoughtfully,anditseemedpessimistically,drinkingchampagne.
HewasnotatallthepersonthatPoirothadexpectedtosee.ItseemedimpossibletoassociatetheideaofdangerormelodramawithanypartyofwhichTonyChapellwasamember.
Poirotpauseddelicatelybythetable.
“Ah,itis,isitnot,myfriendAnthonyChapell?”
“Byallthat’swonderful—Poirot,thepolicehound!”criedtheyoungman.“NotAnthony,mydearfellow—Tonytofriends!”
Hedrewoutachair.
“Come,sitwithme.Letusdiscourseofcrime!Letusgofurtheranddrinktocrime.”Hepouredchampagneintoanemptyglass.“Butwhatareyoudoinginthishauntofsonganddanceandmerriment,mydearPoirot?Wehavenobodieshere,positivelynotasinglebodytoofferyou.”
Poirotsippedthechampagne.
“Youseemverygay,moncher?”
“Gay?Iamsteepedinmisery—wallowingingloom.Tellme,youhearthistunetheyareplaying.Yourecognizeit?”
Poirothazardedcautiously:
“Somethingperhapstodowithyourbabyhavingleftyou?”
“Notabadguess,”saidtheyoungman.“Butwrongforonce.‘There’snothinglikeloveformakingyoumiserable!’That’swhatit’scalled.”
“Aha?”
“Myfavouritetune,”saidTonyChapellmournfully.“Andmyfavouriterestaurantandmyfavouriteband—andmyfavouritegirl’shereandshe’sdancingitwithsomebodyelse.”
“Hencethemelancholy?”saidPoirot.
“Exactly.PaulineandI,yousee,havehadwhatthevulgarcallwords.Thatistosay,she’shadninety-fivewordstofiveofmineoutofeveryhundred.Myfiveare:‘But,darling—Icanexplain.’—Thenshestartsinonherninety-fiveagainandwegetnofurther.Ithink,”addedTonysadly,“thatIshallpoisonmyself.”
“Pauline?”murmuredPoirot.
“PaulineWeatherby.BartonRussell’syoungsister-in-law.Young,lovely,disgustinglyrich.TonightBartonRussellgivesaparty.Youknowhim?BigBusiness,clean-shavenAmerican—fullofpepandpersonality.HiswifewasPauline’ssister.”
“Andwhoelseisthereatthisparty?”
“You’llmeet’eminaminutewhenthemusicstops.There’sLolaValdez—youknow,theSouthAmericandancerinthenewshowattheMetropole,andthere’sStephenCarter.D’youknowCarter—he’sinthediplomaticservice.Veryhush-hush.KnownassilentStephen.Sortofmanwhosays,‘Iamnotalibertytostate,etc,etc.’Hullo,heretheycome.”
Poirotrose.HewasintroducedtoBartonRussell,toStephenCarter,toSe?oraLolaValdez,adarkandlusciouscreature,andtoPaulineWeatherby,veryyoung,veryfair,witheyeslikecornflowers.
BartonRussellsaid:
“What,isthisthegreatM.HerculePoirot?Iamindeedpleasedtomeetyou,sir.Won’tyousitdownandjoinus?Thatis,unless—”
TonyChapellbrokein.
“He’sgotanappointmentwithabody,Ibelieve,orisitanabscondingfinancier,ortheRajahofBorrioboolagah’sgreatruby?”
“Ah,myfriend,doyouthinkIamneveroffduty?CanInot,foronce,seekonlytoamusemyself?”
“Perhapsyou’vegotanappointmentwithCarterhere.ThelatestfromtheUNInternationalsituationnowacute.Thestolenplansmustbefoundorwarwillbedeclaredtomorrow!”
PaulineWeatherbysaidcuttingly:
“Mustyoubesocompletelyidiotic,Tony?”
“Sorry,Pauline.”
TonyChapellrelapsedintocrestfallensilence.
“Howsevereyouare,Mademoiselle.”
“Ihatepeoplewhoplaythefoolallthetime!”
“Imustbecareful,Isee.Imustconverseonlyofseriousmatters.”
“Oh,no,M.Poirot.Ididn’tmeanyou.”
Sheturnedasmilingfacetohimandasked:
“AreyoureallyakindofSherlockHolmesanddowonderfuldeductions?”
“Ah,thedeductions—theyarenotsoeasyinreallife.ButshallItry?Nowthen,Ideduce—thatyellowirisesareyourfavouriteflowers?”
“Quitewrong,M.Poirot.Liliesofthevalleyorroses.”
Poirotsighed.
“Afailure.Iwilltryoncemore.Thisevening,notverylongago,youtelephonedtosomeone.”
Paulinelaughedandclappedherhands.
“Quiteright.”
“Itwasnotlongafteryouarrivedhere?”
“Rightagain.ItelephonedtheminuteIgotinsidethedoors.”
“Ah—thatisnotsogood.Youtelephonedbeforeyoucametothistable?”
“Yes.”
“Decidedlyverybad.”
“Oh,no,Ithinkitwasverycleverofyou.HowdidyouknowIhadtelephoned?”
“That,Mademoiselle,isthegreatdetective’ssecret.Andthepersontowhomyoutelephoned—doesthenamebeginwithaP—orperhapswithanH?”
Paulinelaughed.
“Quitewrong.ItelephonedtomymaidtopostsomefrightfullyimportantlettersthatI’dneversentoff.Hername’sLouise.”
“Iamconfused—quiteconfused.”
Themusicbeganagain.
“Whataboutit,Pauline?”askedTony.
“Idon’tthinkIwanttodanceagainsosoon,Tony.”
“Isn’tthattoobad?”saidTonybitterlytotheworldatlarge.
PoirotmurmuredtotheSouthAmericangirlonhisotherside:
“Se?ora,Iwouldnotdaretoaskyoutodancewithme.Iamtoomuchoftheantique.”
LolaValdezsaid:
“Ah,iteesnonsensethatyoutalkthere!Youaresteelyoung.Yourhair,eetisstillblack!”
Poirotwincedslightly.
“Pauline,asyourbrother-in-lawandyourguardian,”BartonRussellspokeheavily,“I’mjustgoingtoforceyouontothefloor!Thisone’sawaltzandawaltzisabouttheonlydanceIreallycando.”
“Why,ofcourse,Barton,we’lltakethefloorrightaway.”
“Goodgirl,Pauline,that’sswellofyou.”
Theywentofftogether.Tonytippedbackhischair.ThenhelookedatStephenCarter.
“Talkativelittlefellow,aren’tyou,Carter?”heremarked.“Helptomakeapartygowithyourmerrychatter,eh,what?”
“Really,Chapell,Idon’tknowwhatyoumean?”
“Oh,youdon’t—don’tyou?”Tonymimickedhim.
“Mydearfellow.”
“Drink,man,drink,ifyouwon’ttalk.”
“No,thanks.”
“ThenIwill.”
StephenCartershruggedhisshoulders.
“Excuseme,mustjustspeaktoafellowIknowoverthere.FellowIwaswithatEton.”
StephenCartergotupandwalkedtoatableafewplacesaway.
Tonysaidgloomily:
“SomebodyoughttodrownoldEtoniansatbirth.”
HerculePoirotwasstillbeinggallanttothedarkbeautybesidehim.
Hemurmured:
“Iwonder,mayIask,whatarethefavouriteflowersofmademoiselle?”
“Ah,now,whyeeseetyouwanttoknow?”
Lolawasarch.
“Mademoiselle,ifIsendflowerstoalady,Iamparticularthattheyshouldbeflowersshelikes.”
“Thateesverycharmingofyou,M.Poirot.Iweeltellyou—Iadorethebigdarkredcarnations—orthedarkredroses.”
“Superb—yes,superb!Youdonot,then,likeyellowirises?”
“Yellowflowers—no—theydonotaccordwithmytemperament.”
“Howwise…Tellme,Mademoiselle,didyouringupafriendtonight,sinceyouarrivedhere?”
“I?Ringupafriend?No,whatacuriousquestion!”
“Ah,butI,Iamaverycuriousman.”
“I’msureyouare.”Sherolledherdarkeyesathim.“Avairydangerousman.”
“No,no,notdangerous;say,amanwhomaybeuseful—indanger!Youunderstand?”
Lolagiggled.Sheshowedwhiteeventeeth.
“No,no,”shelaughed.“Youaredangerous.”
HerculePoirotsighed.
“Iseethatyoudonotunderstand.Allthisisverystrange.”
Tonycameoutofafitofabstractionandsaidsuddenly:
“Lola,whataboutaspotofswoopanddip?Comealong.”
“Iweelcome—yes.SinceM.Poiroteesnotbraveenough!”
TonyputanarmroundherandremarkedoverhisshouldertoPoirotastheyglidedoff:
“Youcanmeditateoncrimeyettocome,oldboy!”
Poirotsaid:“Itisprofoundwhatyousaythere.Yes,itisprofound….”
Hesatmeditativelyforaminuteortwo,thenheraisedafinger.Luigicamepromptly,hiswideItalianfacewreathedinsmiles.
“Monvieux,”saidPoirot.“Ineedsomeinformation.”
“Alwaysatyourservice,Monsieur.”
“Idesiretoknowhowmanyofthesepeopleatthistableherehaveusedtotelephonetonight?”
“Icantellyou,Monsieur.Theyounglady,theoneinwhite,shetelephonedatoncewhenshegothere.Thenshewenttoleavehercloakandwhileshewasdoingthattheotherladycameoutofthecloakroomandwentintothetelephonebox.”
“SotheSe?oradidtelephone!Wasthatbeforeshecameintotherestaurant?”
“Yes,Monsieur.”
“Anyoneelse?”
“No,Monsieur.”
“Allthis,Luigi,givesmefuriouslytothink!”
“Indeed,Monsieur.”
“Yes.Ithink,Luigi,thattonightofallnights,Imusthavemywitsaboutme!Somethingisgoingtohappen,Luigi,andIamnotatallsurewhatitis.”
“AnythingIcando.Monsieur—”
Poirotmadeasign.Luigislippeddiscreetlyaway.StephenCarterwasreturningtothetable.
“Wearestilldeserted,Mr.Carter,”saidPoirot.
“Oh—er—quite,”saidtheother.
“YouknowMr.BartonRussellwell?”
“Yes,knownhimagoodwhile.”
“Hissister-in-law,littleMissWeatherby,isverycharming.”
“Yes,prettygirl.”
“Youknowherwell,too?”
“Quite.”
“Oh,quite,quite,”saidPoirot.
Carterstaredathim.
Themusicstoppedandtheothersreturned.
BartonRussellsaidtoawaiter:
“Anotherbottleofchampagne—quickly.”
Thenheraisedhisglass.
“Seehere,folks.I’mgoingtoaskyoutodrinkatoast.Totellyouthetruth,there’sanideabackofthislittlepartytonight.Asyouknow,I’dorderedatableforsix.Therewereonlyfiveofus.Thatgaveusanemptyplace.Then,byaverystrangecoincidence,M.HerculePoirothappenedtopassbyandIaskedhimtojoinourparty.
“Youdon’tknowyetwhatanaptcoincidencethatwas.Youseethatemptyseattonightrepresentsalady—theladyinwhosememorythispartyisbeinggiven.Thisparty,ladiesandgentlemen,isbeingheldinmemoryofmydearwife—Iris—whodiedexactlyfouryearsagoonthisverydate!”
Therewasastartledmovementroundthetable.BartonRussell,hisfacequietlyimpassive,raisedhisglass.
“I’llaskyoutodrinktohermemory.Iris!”
“Iris?”saidPoirotsharply.
Helookedattheflowers.BartonRussellcaughthisglanceandgentlynoddedhishead.
Therewerelittlemurmursroundthetable.
“Iris—Iris….”
Everyonelookedstartledanduncomfortable.
BartonRussellwenton,speakingwithhisslowmonotonousAmericanintonation,eachwordcomingoutweightily.
“ItmayseemoddtoyouallthatIshouldcelebratetheanniversaryofadeathinthisway—byasupperpartyinafashionablerestaurant.ButIhaveareason—yes,Ihaveareason.ForM.Poirot’sbenefit,I’llexplain.”
HeturnedhisheadtowardsPoirot.
“Fouryearsagotonight,M.Poirot,therewasasupperpartyheldinNewYork.Atitweremywifeandmyself,Mr.StephenCarter,whowasattachedtotheEmbassyinWashington,Mr.AnthonyChapell,whohadbeenaguestinourhouseforsomeweeks,andSe?oraValdez,whowasatthattimeenchantingNewYorkCitywithherdancing.LittlePaulinehere—”hepattedhershoulder“—wasonlysixteenbutshecametothesupperpartyasaspecialtreat.Youremember,Pauline?”
“Iremember—yes.”Hervoiceshookalittle.
“M.Poirot,onthatnightatragedyhappened.Therewasarollofdrumsandthecabaretstarted.Thelightswentdown—allbutaspotlightinthemiddleofthefloor.Whenthelightswentupagain,M.Poirot,mywifewasseentohavefallenforwardonthetable.Shewasdead—stonedead.Therewaspotassiumcyanidefoundinthedregsofherwineglass,andtheremainsofthepacketwasdiscoveredinherhandbag.”
“Shehadcommittedsuicide?”saidPoirot.
“Thatwastheacceptedverdict…Itbrokemeup,M.Poirot.Therewas,perhaps,apossiblereasonforsuchanaction—thepolicethoughtso.Iacceptedtheirdecision.”
Hepoundedsuddenlyonthetable.
“ButIwasnotsatisfied…No,forfouryearsI’vebeenthinkingandbrooding—andI’mnotsatisfied:Idon’tbelieveIriskilledherself.Ibelieve,M.Poirot,thatshewasmurdered—byoneofthosepeopleatthetable.”
“Lookhere,sir—”
TonyChapellhalfsprungtohisfeet.
“Bequiet,Tony,”saidRussell.“Ihaven’tfinished.Oneofthemdidit—I’msureofthatnow.Someonewho,undercoverofthedarkness,slippedthehalfemptiedpacketofcyanideintoherhandbag.IthinkIknowwhichofthemitwas.Imeantoknowthetruth—”
Lola’svoicerosesharply.
“Youaremad—crazee—whowouldhaveharmedher?No,youaremad.Me,Iwillnotstay—”
Shebrokeoff.Therewasarollofdrums.
BartonRussellsaid:
“Thecabaret.Afterwardswewillgoonwiththis.Staywhereyouare,allofyou.I’vegottogoandspeaktothedanceband.LittlearrangementI’vemadewiththem.”
Hegotupandleftthetable.
“Extraordinarybusiness,”commentedCarter.“Man’smad.”
“Heeescrazee,yes,”saidLola.
Thelightswerelowered.
“FortwopinsI’dclearout,”saidTony.
“No!”Paulinespokesharply.Thenshemurmured,“Oh,dear—oh,dear—”
“Whatisit,Mademoiselle?”murmuredPoirot.
Sheansweredalmostinawhisper.
“It’shorrible!It’sjustlikeitwasthatnight—”
“Sh!Sh!”saidseveralpeople.
Poirotloweredhisvoice.
“Alittlewordinyourear.”Hewhispered,thenpattedhershoulder.“Allwillbewell,”heassuredher.
“MyGod,listen,”criedLola.
“Whatisit,Se?ora?”
“It’sthesametune—thesamesongthattheyplayedthatnightinNewYork.BartonRussellmusthavefixedit.Idon’tlikethis.”
“Courage—courage—”
Therewasafreshhush.
Agirlwalkedoutintothemiddleofthefloor,acoalblackgirlwithrollingeyeballsandwhiteglisteningteeth.Shebegantosinginadeephoarsevoice—avoicethatwascuriouslymoving.
I’veforgottenyouIneverthinkofyouThewayyouwalkedThewayyoutalkedThethingsyouusedtosayI’veforgottenyouIneverthinkofyouIcouldn’tsayForsuretodayWhetheryoureyeswereblueorgreyI’veforgottenyouIneverthinkofyou.I’mthroughThinkingofyouItellyouI’mthroughThinkingofyou….You…you…you….
Thesobbingtune,thedeepgoldenNegrovoicehadapowerfuleffect.Ithypnotized—castaspell.Eventhewaitersfeltit.Thewholeroomstaredather,hypnotizedbythethickcloyingemotionshedistilled.
Awaiterpassedsoftlyroundthetablefillingupglasses,murmuring“champagne”inanundertonebutallattentionwasontheoneglowingspotoflight—theblackwomanwhoseancestorscamefromAfrica,singinginherdeepvoice:
I’veforgottenyouIneverthinkofyouOh,whatalieIshallthinkofyou,thinkofyou,thinkofyoutillIdie….
Theapplausebrokeoutfrenziedly.Thelightswentup.BartonRussellcamebackandslippedintohisseat.
“She’sgreat,thatgirl—”criedTony.
ButhiswordswerecutshortbyalowcryfromLola.
“Look—look….”
Andthentheyallsaw.PaulineWeatherbydroppedforwardontothetable.
Lolacried:
“She’sdead—justlikeIris—likeIrisinNewYork.”
Poirotsprangfromhisseat,signingtotheotherstokeepback.Hebentoverthehuddledform,verygentlyliftedalimphandandfeltforapulse.
Hisfacewaswhiteandstern.Theotherswatchedhim.Theywereparalysed,heldinatrance.
Slowly,Poirotnoddedhishead.
“Yes,sheisdead—lapauvrepetite.AndIsittingbyher!Ah!butthistimethemurderershallnotescape.”
BartonRussell,hisfacegrey,muttered:
“JustlikeIris…Shesawsomething—Paulinesawsomethingthatnight—Onlyshewasn’tsure—shetoldmeshewasn’tsure…Wemustgetthepolice…Oh,God,littlePauline.”
Poirotsaid:
“Whereisherglass?”Heraisedittohisnose.“Yes,Icansmellthecyanide.Asmellofbitteralmonds…thesamemethod,thesamepoison….”
Hepickedupherhandbag.
“Letuslookinherhandbag.”
BartonRussellcriedout:
“Youdon’tbelievethisissuicide,too?Notonyourlife.”
“Wait,”Poirotcommanded.“No,thereisnothinghere.Thelightswentup,yousee,tooquickly,themurdererhadnottime.Therefore,thepoisonisstillonhim.”
“Orher,”saidCarter.
HewaslookingatLolaValdez.
Shespatout:
“Whatdoyoumean—whatdoyousay?ThatIkilledher—eetisnottrue—nottrue—whyshouldIdosuchathing!”
“YouhadratherafancyforBartonRussellyourselfinNewYork.That’sthegossipIheard.Argentinebeautiesarenotoriouslyjealous.”
“Thateesapackoflies.AndIdonotcomefromtheArgentine.IcomefromPeru.Ah—Ispituponyou.I—”ShelapsedintoSpanish.
“Idemandsilence,”criedPoirot.“Itisformetospeak.”
BartonRussellsaidheavily:
“Everyonemustbesearched.”
Poirotsaidcalmly.
“Non,non,itisnotnecessary.”
“Whatd’youmean,notnecessary?”
“I,HerculePoirot,know.Iseewiththeeyesofthemind.AndIwillspeak!M.Carter,willyoushowusthepacketinyourbreastpocket?”
“There’snothinginmypocket.Whatthehell—”
“Tony,mygoodfriend,ifyouwillbesoobliging.”
Cartercriedout:
“Damnyou—”
TonyflippedthepacketneatlyoutbeforeCartercoulddefendhimself.
“Thereyouare,M.Poirot,justasyousaid!”
“IT’SADAMNEDLIE,”criedCarter.
Poirotpickedupthepacket,readthelabel.
“Cyanidepotassium.Thecaseiscomplete.”
BartonRussell’svoicecamethickly.
“Carter!Ialwaysthoughtso.Iriswasinlovewithyou.Shewantedtogoawaywithyou.Youdidn’twantascandalforthesakeofyourpreciouscareersoyoupoisonedher.You’llhangforthis,youdirtydog.”
“Silence!”Poirot’svoicerangout,firmandauthoritative.“Thisisnotfinishedyet.I,HerculePoirot,havesomethingtosay.Myfriendhere,TonyChapell,hesaystomewhenIarrive,thatIhavecomeinsearchofcrime.That,itispartlytrue.Therewascrimeinmymind—butitwastopreventacrimethatIcame.AndIhavepreventedit.Themurderer,heplannedwell—butHerculePoirothewasonemoveahead.Hehadtothinkfast,andtowhisperquicklyinMademoiselle’searwhenthelightswentdown.Sheisveryquickandclever,MademoisellePauline,sheplayedherpartwell.Mademoiselle,willyoubesokindastoshowusthatyouarenotdeadafterall?”
Paulinesatup.Shegaveanunsteadylaugh.
“ResurrectionofPauline,”shesaid.
“Pauline—darling.”
“Tony!”
“Mysweet!”
“Angel.”
BartonRussellgasped.
“I—Idon’tunderstand….”
“Iwillhelpyoutounderstand,Mr.BartonRussell.Yourplanhasmiscarried.”
“Myplan?”
“Yes,yourplan.Whowastheonlymanwhohadanalibiduringthedarkness.Themanwholeftthetable—you,Mr.BartonRussell.Butyoureturnedtoitundercoverofthedarkness,circlingroundit,withachampagnebottle,fillingupglasses,puttingcyanideinPauline’sglassanddroppingthehalfemptypacketinCarter’spocketasyoubentoverhimtoremoveaglass.Oh,yes,itiseasytoplaythepartofawaiterindarknesswhentheattentionofeveryoneiselsewhere.Thatwastherealreasonforyourpartytonight.Thesafestplacetocommitamurderisinthemiddleofacrowd.”
“Whatthe—whythehellshouldIwanttokillPauline?”
“Itmightbe,perhaps,aquestionofmoney.Yourwifeleftyouguardiantohersister.Youmentionedthatfacttonight.Paulineistwenty.Attwenty-oneoronhermarriageyouwouldhavetorenderanaccountofyourstewardship.Isuggestthatyoucouldnotdothat.Youhavespeculatedwithit.Idonotknow,Mr.BartonRussell,whetheryoukilledyourwifeinthesameway,orwhetherhersuicidesuggestedtheideaofthiscrimetoyou,butIdoknowthattonightyouhavebeenguiltyofattemptedmurder.ItrestswithMissPaulinewhetheryouareprosecutedforthat.”
“No,”saidPauline.“Hecangetoutofmysightandoutofthiscountry.Idon’twantascandal.”
“Youhadbettergoquickly,Mr.BartonRussell,andIadviseyoutobecarefulinfuture.”
BartonRussellgotup,hisfaceworking
“Tohellwithyou,youinterferinglittleBelgianjackanapes.”
Hestrodeoutangrily.
Paulinesighed.
“M.Poirot,you’vebeenwonderful….”
“You,Mademoiselle,youhavebeenthemarvellousone.Topourawaythechampagne,toactthedeadbodysoprettily.”
“Ugh,”sheshivered,“yougivemethecreeps.”
Hesaidgently:
“Itwasyouwhotelephonedme,wasitnot?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Idon’tknow.Iwasworriedand—frightenedwithoutknowingquitewhyIwasfrightened.BartontoldmehewashavingthispartytocommemorateIris’death.Irealizedhehadsomeschemeon—buthewouldn’ttellmewhatitwas.Helookedso—soqueerandsoexcitedthatIfeltsomethingterriblemighthappen—only,ofcourse,Ineverdreamedthathemeantto—togetridofme.”
“Andso,Mademoiselle?”
“I’dheardpeopletalkingaboutyou.IthoughtifIcouldonlygetyouhereperhapsitwouldstopanythinghappening.Ithoughtthatbeinga—aforeigner—ifIrangupandpretendedtobeindangerand—andmadeitsoundmysterious—”
“Youthoughtthemelodrama,itwouldattractme?Thatiswhatpuzzledme.Themessageitself—definitelyitwaswhatyoucall‘bogus’—itdidnotringtrue.Butthefearinthevoice—thatwasreal.ThenIcame—andyoudeniedverycategoricallyhavingsentmeamessage.”
“Ihadto.Besides,Ididn’twantyoutoknowitwasme.”
“Ah,butIwasfairlysureofthat!Notatfirst.ButIsoonrealizedthattheonlytwopeoplewhocouldknowabouttheyellowirisesonthetablewereyouorMr.BartonRussell.”
Paulinenodded.
“Iheardhimorderingthemtobeputonthetable,”sheexplained.“That,andhisorderingatableforsixwhenIknewonlyfivewerecoming,mademesuspect—”Shestopped,bitingherlip.
“Whatdidyoususpect,Mademoiselle?”
Shesaidslowly:
“Iwasafraid—ofsomethinghappening—toMr.Carter.”
StephenCarterclearedhisthroat.Unhurriedlybutquitedecisivelyherosefromthetable.
“Er—h’m—Ihaveto—er—thankyou,Mr.Poirot.Ioweyouagreatdeal.You’llexcuseme,I’msure,ifIleaveyou.Tonight’shappeningshavebeen—ratherupsetting.”
Lookingafterhisretreatingfigure,Paulinesaidviolently:
“Ihatehim.I’vealwaysthoughtitwas—becauseofhimthatIriskilledherself.Orperhaps—Bartonkilledher.Oh,it’sallsohateful….”
Poirotsaidgently:
“Forget,Mademoiselle…forget…Letthepastgo…Thinkonlyofthepresent….”
Paulinemurmured,“Yes—you’reright….”
PoirotturnedtoLolaValdez.
“Se?ora,astheeveningadvancesIbecomemorebrave.Ifyouwoulddancewithmenow—”
“Oh,yes,indeed.Youare—youarezecat’swhiskers,M.Poirot.Iinseestondancingwithyou.”
“Youaretookind,Se?ora.”
TonyandPaulinewereleft.Theyleanttowardseachotheracrossthetable.
“DarlingPauline.”
“Oh,Tony,I’vebeensuchanastyspitefulspitfiringlittlecattoyouallday.Canyoueverforgiveme?”
“Angel!ThisisOurTuneagain.Let’sdance.”
Theydancedoff,smilingateachotherandhummingsoftly:
There’snothinglikeLoveformakingyoumiserableThere’snothinglikeLoveformakingyoublueDepressedPossessedSentimentalTemperamentalThere’snothinglikeLoveForgettingyoudown.There’snothinglikeLovefordrivingyoucrazyThere’snothinglikeLoveformakingyoumadAbusiveAllusiveSuicidalHomicidalThere’snothinglikeLoveThere’snothinglikeLove….Six
MISSMARPLETELLSASTORY
Idon’tthinkI’veevertoldyou,mydears—you,Raymond,andyou,Joan,abouttherathercuriouslittlebusinessthathappenedsomeyearsagonow.Idon’twanttoseemvaininanyway—ofcourseIknowthatincomparisonwithyouyoungpeopleI’mnotcleveratall—Raymondwritesthoseverymodernbooksallaboutratherunpleasantyoungmenandwomen—andJoanpaintsthoseveryremarkablepicturesofsquarepeoplewithcuriousbulgesonthem—verycleverofyou,mydear,butasRaymondalwayssays(onlyquitekindly,becauseheisthekindestofnephews)IamhopelesslyVictorian.IadmireMr.Alma-TademaandMr.FredericLeightonandIsupposetoyoutheyseemhopelesslyvieuxjeu.Nowletmesee,whatwasIsaying?Oh,yes—thatIdidn’twanttoappearvain—butIcouldn’thelpbeingjustateenyweenybitpleasedwithmyself,because,justbyapplyingalittlecommonsense,IbelieveIreallydidsolveaproblemthathadbaffledclevererheadsthanmine.ThoughreallyIshouldhavethoughtthewholethingwasobviousfromthebeginning….
Well,I’lltellyoumylittlestory,andifyouthinkI’minclinedtobeconceitedaboutit,youmustrememberthatIdidatleasthelpafellowcreaturewhowasinverygravedistress.
ThefirstIknewofthisbusinesswasoneeveningaboutnineo’clockwhenGwen—(yourememberGwen?Mylittlemaidwithredhair)well—GwencameinandtoldmethatMr.Petherickandagentlemanhadcalledtoseeme.Gwenhadshownthemintothedrawingroom—quiterightly.IwassittinginthediningroombecauseinearlyspringIthinkitissowastefultohavetwofiresgoing.
IdirectedGwentobringinthecherrybrandyandsomeglassesandIhurriedintothedrawingroom.Idon’tknowwhetheryourememberMr.Petherick?Hediedtwoyearsago,buthehadbeenafriendofmineformanyyearsaswellasattendingtoallmylegalbusiness.Averyshrewdmanandareallycleversolicitor.Hissondoesmybusinessformenow—averyniceladandveryuptodate—butsomehowIdon’tfeelquitetheconfidenceIhadwithMr.Petherick.
IexplainedtoMr.Petherickaboutthefiresandhesaidatoncethatheandhisfriendwouldcomeintothediningroom—andthenheintroducedhisfriend—aMr.Rhodes.Hewasayoungishman—notmuchoverforty—andIsawatoncetherewassomethingverywrong.Hismannerwasmostpeculiar.Onemighthavecalleditrudeifonehadn’trealizedthatthepoorfellowwassufferingfromstrain.
WhenweweresettledinthediningroomandGwenhadbroughtthecherrybrandy,Mr.Petherickexplainedthereasonforhisvisit.
“MissMarple,”hesaid,“youmustforgiveanoldfriendfortakingaliberty.WhatIhavecomehereforisaconsultation.”
Icouldn’tunderstandatallwhathemeant,andhewenton:
“Inacaseofillnessonelikestwopointsofview—thatofthespecialistandthatofthefamilyphysician.Itisthefashiontoregardtheformerasofmorevalue,butIamnotsurethatIagree.Thespecialisthasexperienceonlyinhisownsubject—thefamilydoctorhas,perhaps,lessknowledge—butawiderexperience.”
Iknewjustwhathemeant,becauseayoungnieceofminenotlongbeforehadhurriedherchildofftoaverywell-knownspecialistinskindiseaseswithoutconsultingherowndoctorwhomsheconsideredanolddodderer,andthespecialisthadorderedsomeveryexpensivetreatment,andlaterfoundthatallthechildwassufferingfromwasaratherunusualformofmeasles.
Ijustmentionthis—thoughIhaveahorrorofdigressing—toshowthatIappreciateMr.Petherick’spoint—butIstillhadn’tanyideawhathewasdrivingat.
“IfMr.Rhodesisill—”Isaid,andstopped—becausethepoormangaveamostdreadfullaugh.
Hesaid:“Iexpecttodieofabrokenneckinafewmonths’time.”
Andthenitallcameout.TherehadbeenacaseofmurderlatelyinBarnchester—atownabouttwentymilesaway.I’mafraidIhadn’tpaidmuchattentiontoitatthetime,becausewehadbeenhavingalotofexcitementinthevillageaboutourdistrictnurse,andoutsideoccurrenceslikeanearthquakeinIndiaandamurderinBarnchester,althoughofcoursefarmoreimportantreally—hadgivenwaytoourownlittlelocalexcitements.I’mafraidvillagesarelikethat.Still,Ididrememberhavingreadaboutawomanhavingbeenstabbedinahotel,thoughIhadn’trememberedhername.ButnowitseemedthatthiswomanhadbeenMr.Rhodes’swife—andasifthatwasn’tbadenough—hewasactuallyundersuspicionofhavingmurderedherhimself.
AllthisMr.Petherickexplainedtomeveryclearly,sayingthat,althoughtheCoronor’sjuryhadbroughtinaverdictofmurderbyapersonorpersonsunknown,Mr.Rhodeshadreasontobelievethathewouldprobablybearrestedwithinadayortwo,andthathehadcometoMr.Petherickandplacedhimselfinhishands.Mr.PetherickwentontosaythattheyhadthatafternoonconsultedSirMalcolmOlde,K.C.,andthatintheeventofthecasecomingtotrialSirMalcolmhadbeenbriefedtodefendMr.Rhodes.
SirMalcolmwasayoungman,Mr.Pethericksaid,veryuptodateinhismethods,andhehadindicatedacertainlineofdefence.ButwiththatlineofdefenceMr.Petherickwasnotentirelysatisfied.
“Yousee,mydearlady,”hesaid,“itistaintedwithwhatIcallthespecialist’spointofview.GiveSirMalcolmacaseandheseesonlyonepoint—themostlikelylineofdefence.Buteventhebestlineofdefencemayignorecompletelywhatis,tomymind,thevitalpoint.Ittakesnoaccountofwhatactuallyhappened.”
Thenhewentontosaysomeverykindandflatteringthingsaboutmyacumenandjudgementandmyknowledgeofhumannature,andaskedpermissiontotellmethestoryofthecaseinthehopesthatImightbeabletosuggestsomeexplanation.
IcouldseethatMr.Rhodeswashighlyscepticalofmybeingofanyuseandhewasannoyedatbeingbroughthere.ButMr.PethericktooknonoticeandproceededtogivemethefactsofwhatoccurredonthenightofMarch8th.
Mr.andMrs.RhodeshadbeenstayingattheCrownHotelinBarnchester.Mrs.Rhodeswho(soIgatheredfromMr.Petherick’scarefullanguage)wasperhapsjustashadeofahypochondriac,hadretiredtobedimmediatelyafterdinner.Sheandherhusbandoccupiedadjoiningroomswithaconnectingdoor.Mr.Rhodes,whoiswritingabookonprehistoricflints,settleddowntoworkintheadjoiningroom.Ateleveno’clockhetidieduphispapersandpreparedtogotobed.Beforedoingso,hejustglancedintohiswife’sroomtomakesurethattherewasnothingshewanted.Hediscoveredtheelectriclightonandhiswifelyinginbedstabbedthroughtheheart.Shehadbeendeadatleastanhour—probablylonger.Thefollowingwerethepointsmade.TherewasanotherdoorinMrs.Rhodes’sroomleadingintothecorridor.Thisdoorwaslockedandboltedontheinside.Theonlywindowintheroomwasclosedandlatched.AccordingtoMr.Rhodesnobodyhadpassedthroughtheroominwhichhewassittingexceptachambermaidbringinghot-waterbottles.TheweaponfoundinthewoundwasastilettodaggerwhichhadbeenlyingonMrs.Rhodes’sdressingtable.Shewasinthehabitofusingitasapaperknife.Therewerenofingerprintsonit
Thesituationboileddowntothis—noonebutMr.Rhodesandthechambermaidhadenteredthevictim’sroom.
Ienquiredaboutthechambermaid.
“Thatwasourfirstlineofenquiry,”saidMr.Petherick.“MaryHillisalocalwoman.ShehadbeenchambermaidattheCrownfortenyears.Thereseemsabsolutelynoreasonwhysheshouldcommitasuddenassaultonaguest.Sheis,inanycase,extraordinarilystupid,almosthalf-witted.Herstoryhasnevervaried.ShebroughtMrs.Rhodesherhot-waterbottleandsaystheladywasdrowsy—justdroppingofftosleep.Frankly,Icannotbelieve,andIamsurenojurywouldbelieve,thatshecommittedthecrime.”
Mr.Petherickwentontomentionafewadditionaldetails.AttheheadofthestaircaseintheCrownHotelisakindofminiatureloungewherepeoplesometimessitandhavecoffee.ApassagegoesofftotherightandthelastdoorinitisthedoorintotheroomoccupiedbyMr.Rhodes.ThepassagethenturnssharplytotherightagainandthefirstdoorroundthecorneristhedoorintoMrs.Rhodes’sroom.Asithappened,boththesedoorscouldbeseenbywitnesses.Thefirstdoor—thatintoMr.Rhodes’sroom,whichIwillcallA,couldbeseenbyfourpeople,twocommercialtravellersandanelderlymarriedcouplewhowerehavingcoffee.AccordingtothemnobodywentinoroutofdoorAexceptMr.Rhodesandthechambermaid.AstotheotherdoorinthepassageB,therewasanelectricianatworkthereandhealsoswearsthatnobodyenteredorleftdoorBexceptthechambermaid.
Itwascertainlyaverycuriousandinterestingcase.Onthefaceofit,itlookedasthoughMr.Rhodesmusthavemurderedhiswife.ButIcouldseethatMr.Petherickwasquiteconvincedofhisclient’sinnocenceandMr.Petherickwasaveryshrewdman.
AttheinquestMr.Rhodeshadtoldahesitatingandramblingstoryaboutsomewomanwhohadwrittenthreateningletterstohiswife.Hisstory,Igathered,hadbeenunconvincingintheextreme.AppealedtobyMr.Petherick,heexplainedhimself.
“Frankly,”hesaid,“Ineverbelievedit.IthoughtAmyhadmademostofitup.”
Mrs.Rhodes,Igathered,wasoneofthoseromanticliarswhogothroughlifeembroideringeverythingthathappenstothem.Theamountofadventuresthat,accordingtoherownaccount,happenedtoherinayearwassimplyincredible.Ifsheslippedonabitofbananapeelitwasacaseofnearescapefromdeath.Ifalampshadecaughtfireshewasrescuedfromaburningbuildingatthehazardofherlife.Herhusbandgotintothehabitofdiscountingherstatements.Hertaleastosomewomanwhosechildshehadinjuredinamotoraccidentandwhohadvowedvengeanceonher—well—Mr.Rhodeshadsimplynottakenanynoticeofit.Theincidenthadhappenedbeforehemarriedhiswifeandalthoughshehadreadhimletterscouchedincrazylanguage,hehadsuspectedherofcomposingthemherself.Shehadactuallydonesuchathingonceortwicebefore.Shewasawomanofhystericaltendencieswhocravedceaselesslyforexcitement.
Now,allthatseemedtomeverynatural—indeed,wehaveayoungwomaninthevillagewhodoesmuchthesamething.Thedangerwithsuchpeopleisthatwhenanythingatallextraordinaryreallydoeshappentothem,nobodybelievestheyarespeakingthetruth.Itseemedtomethatthatwaswhathadhappenedinthiscase.Thepolice,Igathered,merelybelievedthatMr.Rhodeswasmakingupthisunconvincingtaleinordertoavertsuspicionfromhimself.
Iaskediftherehadbeenanywomenstayingbythemselvesinthehotel.Itseemedthereweretwo—aMrs.Granby,anAnglo-Indianwidow,andaMissCarruthers,ratherahorseyspinsterwhodroppedherg’s.Mr.Petherickaddedthatthemostminuteenquirieshadfailedtoelicitanyonewhohadseeneitherofthemnearthesceneofthecrimeandtherewasnothingtoconnecteitherofthemwithitinanyway.Iaskedhimtodescribetheirpersonalappearance.HesaidthatMrs.Granbyhadreddishhairratheruntidilydone,wassallow-facedandaboutfiftyyearsofage.Herclotheswereratherpicturesque,beingmademostlyofnativesilk,etc.MissCarrutherswasaboutforty,worepince-nez,hadclose-croppedhairlikeamanandworemannishcoatsandskirts.
“Dearme,”Isaid,“thatmakesitverydifficult.”
Mr.Pethericklookedenquiringlyatme,butIdidn’twanttosayanymorejustthen,soIaskedwhatSirMalcolmOldehadsaid.
SirMalcolmwasconfidentofbeingabletocallconflictingmedicaltestimonyandtosuggestsomewayofgettingoverthefingerprintdifficulty.IaskedMr.Rhodeswhathethoughtandhesaidalldoctorswerefoolsbuthehimselfcouldn’treallybelievethathiswifehadkilledherself.“Shewasn’tthatkindofwoman,”hesaidsimply—andIbelievedhim.Hystericalpeopledon’tusuallycommitsuicide.
IthoughtaminuteandthenIaskedifthedoorfromMrs.Rhodes’sroomledstraightintothecorridor.Mr.Rhodessaidno—therewasalittlehallwaywithabathroomandlavatory.Itwasthedoorfromthebedroomtothehallwaythatwaslockedandboltedontheinside.
“Inthatcase,”Isaid,“thewholethingseemsremarkablysimple.”
Andreally,youknow,itdid…thesimplestthingintheworld.Andyetnooneseemedtohaveseenitthatway.
BothMr.PetherickandMr.RhodeswerestaringatmesothatIfeltquiteembarrassed.
“Perhaps,”saidMr.Rhodes,“MissMarplehasn’tquiteappreciatedthedifficulties.”
“Yes,”Isaid,“IthinkIhave.Therearefourpossibilities.EitherMrs.Rhodeswaskilledbyherhusband,orbythechambermaid,orshecommittedsuicide,orshewaskilledbyanoutsiderwhomnobodysawenterorleave.”
“Andthat’simpossible,”Mr.Rhodesbrokein.“Nobodycouldcomeinorgooutthroughmyroomwithoutmyseeingthem,andevenifanyonedidmanagetocomeinthroughmywife’sroomwithouttheelectricianseeingthem,howthedevilcouldtheygetoutagainleavingthedoorlockedandboltedontheinside?”
Mr.Pethericklookedatmeandsaid:“Well,MissMarple?”inanencouragingmanner.
“Ishouldlike,”Isaid,“toaskaquestion.Mr.Rhodes,whatdidthechambermaidlooklike?”
Hesaidhewasn’tsure—shewastallish,hethought—hedidn’trememberifshewasfairordark.IturnedtoMr.Petherickandaskedthesamequestion.
Hesaidshewasofmediumheight,hadfairishhairandblueeyesandratherahighcolour.
Mr.Rhodessaid:“YouareabetterobserverthanIam,Petherick.”
Iventuredtodisagree.IthenaskedMr.Rhodesifhecoulddescribethemaidinmyhouse.NeitherhenorMr.Petherickcoulddoso.
“Don’tyouseewhatthatmeans?”Isaid.“Youbothcameherefullofyourownaffairsandthepersonwholetyouinwasonlyaparlourmaid.ThesameappliestoMr.Rhodesatthehotel.Hesawheruniformandherapron.Hewasengrossedbyhiswork.ButMr.Petherickhasinterviewedthesamewomaninadifferentcapacity.Hehaslookedatherasaperson.
“That’swhatthewomanwhodidthemurdercountedupon.”
Astheystilldidn’tsee,Ihadtoexplain.
“Ithink,”Isaid,“thatthisishowitwent.ThechambermaidcameinbydoorA,passedthroughMr.Rhodes’sroomintoMrs.Rhodes’sroomwiththehot-waterbottleandwentoutthroughthehallwayintopassageB.X—asIwillcallourmurderess—cameinbydoorBintothelittlehallway,concealedherselfin—well,inacertainapartment,ahem—andwaiteduntilthechambermaidhadpassedout.ThensheenteredMrs.Rhodes’sroom,tookthestilettofromthedressingtable(shehaddoubtlessexploredtheroomearlierintheday),wentuptothebed,stabbedthedozingwoman,wipedthehandleofthestiletto,lockedandboltedthedoorbywhichshehadentered,andthenpassedoutthroughtheroomwhereMr.Rhodeswasworking.”
Mr.Rhodescriedout:“ButIshouldhaveseenher.Theelectricianwouldhaveseenhergoin.”
“No,”Isaid.“That’swhereyou’rewrong.Youwouldn’tseeher—notifsheweredressedasachambermaid.”Iletitsinkin,thenIwenton,“Youwereengrossedinyourwork—outofthetailofyoureyeyousawachambermaidcomein,gointoyourwife’sroom,comebackandgoout.Itwasthesamedress—butnotthesamewoman.That’swhatthepeoplehavingcoffeesaw—achambermaidgoinandachambermaidcomeout.Theelectriciandidthesame.Idaresayifachambermaidwereveryprettyagentlemanmightnoticeherface—humannaturebeingwhatitis—butifshewerejustanordinarymiddle-agedwoman—well—itwouldbethechambermaid’sdressyouwouldsee—notthewomanherself.”
Mr.Rhodescried:“Whowasshe?”
“Well,”Isaid,“thatisgoingtobealittledifficult.ItmustbeeitherMrs.GranbyorMissCarruthers.Mrs.Granbysoundsasthoughshemightwearawignormally—soshecouldwearherownhairasachambermaid.Ontheotherhand,MissCarrutherswithherclose-croppedmannishheadmighteasilyputonawigtoplayherpart.Idaresayyouwillfindouteasilyenoughwhichofthemitis.Personally,IinclinemyselftothinkitwillbeMissCarruthers.”
Andreally,mydears,thatistheendofthestory.Carrutherswasafalsename,butshewasthewomanallright.Therewasinsanityinherfamily.Mrs.Rhodes,whowasamostrecklessanddangerousdriver,hadrunoverherlittlegirl,andithaddriventhepoorwomanoffherhead.Sheconcealedhermadnessverycunninglyexceptforwritingdistinctlyinsanelatterstoherintendedvictim.Shehadbeenfollowingheraboutforsometime,andshelaidherplansverycleverly.Thefalsehairandmaid’sdressshepostedinaparcelfirstthingthenextmorning.Whentaxedwiththetruthshebrokedownandconfessedatonce.ThepoorthingisinBroadmoornow.Completelyunbalancedofcourse,butaverycleverlyplannedcrime.
Mr.PetherickcametomeafterwardsandbroughtmeaveryniceletterfromMr.Rhodes—really,itmademeblush.Thenmyoldfriendsaidtome:“Justonething—whydidyouthinkitwasmorelikelytobeCarruthersthanGranby?You’dneverseeneitherofthem.”
“Well,”Isaid.“Itwastheg’s.Yousaidshedroppedherg’s.Now,that’sdonebyalotofhuntingpeopleinbooks,butIdon’tknowmanypeoplewhodoitinreality—andcertainlynooneundersixty.Yousaidthiswomanwasforty.Thosedroppedg’ssoundedtomelikeawomanwhowasplayingapartandoverdoingit.”
Ishan’ttellyouwhatMr.Pethericksaidtothat—buthewasverycomplimentary—andIreallycouldn’thelpfeelingjustateenyweenybitpleasedwithmyself.
Andit’sextraordinaryhowthingsturnoutforthebestinthisworld.Mr.Rhodeshasmarriedagain—suchanice,sensiblegirl—andthey’vegotadearlittlebabyand—whatdoyouthink?—theyaskedmetobegodmother.Wasn’titniceofthem?
NowIdohopeyoudon’tthinkI’vebeenrunningontoolong….
Seven
THEDREAM
“TheDream”wasfirstpublishedintheUSAintheSaturdayEveningPost,23October1937,theninTheStrand,February1938.
HerculePoirotgavethehouseasteadyappraisingglance.Hiseyeswanderedamomenttoitssurroundings,theshops,thebigfactorybuildingontheright,theblocksofcheapmansionflatsopposite.
ThenoncemorehiseyesreturnedtoNorthwayHouse,relicofanearlierage—anageofspaceandleisure,whengreenfieldshadsurroundeditswell-bredarrogance.Nowitwasananachronism,submergedandforgotteninthehecticseaofmodernLondon,andnotonemaninfiftycouldhavetoldyouwhereitstood.
Furthermore,veryfewpeoplecouldhavetoldyoutowhomitbelonged,thoughitsowner’snamewouldhavebeenrecognizedasoneoftheworld’srichestmen.Butmoneycanquenchpublicityaswellasflauntit.BenedictFarley,thateccentricmillionaire,chosenottoadvertisehischoiceofresidence.Hehimselfwasrarelyseen,seldommakingapublicappearance.Fromtimetotime,heappearedatboardmeetings,hisleanfigure,beakednose,andraspingvoiceeasilydominatingtheassembleddirectors.Apartfromthat,hewasjustawell-knownfigureoflegend.Therewerehisstrangemeannesses,hisincrediblegenerosities,aswellasmorepersonaldetails—hisfamouspatchworkdressinggown,nowreputedtobetwenty-eightyearsold,hisinvariabledietofcabbagesoupandcaviare,hishatredofcats.Allthesethingsthepublicknew.
HerculePoirotknewthemalso.Itwasallhedidknowofthemanhewasabouttovisit.Theletterwhichwasinhiscoatpockettoldhimlittlemore.
Aftersurveyingthismelancholylandmarkofapastageforaminuteortwoinsilence,hewalkedupthestepstothefrontdoorandpressedthebell,glancingashedidsoattheneatwristwatchwhichhadatlastreplacedanoldfavourite—thelargeturnip-facedwatchofearlierdays.Yes,itwasexactlyninethirty.Asever,HerculePoirotwasexacttotheminute.
Thedooropenedafterjusttherightinterval.Aperfectspecimenofthegenusbutlerstoodoutlinedagainstthelightedhall.
“Mr.BenedictFarley?”askedHerculePoirot.
Theimpersonalglancesurveyedhimfromheadtofoot,inoffensivelybuteffectively.
Engrosetendétail,thoughtHerculePoirottohimselfwithappreciation.
“Youhaveanappointment,sir?”askedthesuavevoice.
“Yes.”
“Yourname,sir?”
“MonsieurHerculePoirot.”
Thebutlerbowedanddrewback.HerculePoirotenteredthehouse.Thebutlerclosedthedoorbehindhim.
Buttherewasyetonemoreformalitybeforethedefthandstookhatandstickfromthevisitor.
“Youwillexcuseme,sir.Iwastoaskforaletter.”
WithdeliberationPoirottookfromhispocketthefoldedletterandhandedittothebutler.Thelattergaveitamereglance,thenreturneditwithabow.HerculePoirotreturnedittohispocket.Itscontentsweresimple.
NorthwayHouse,W.8M.HerculePoirotDearSir,Mr.BenedictFarleywouldliketohavethebenefitofyouradvice.Ifconvenienttoyourselfhewouldbegladifyouwouldcalluponhimattheaboveaddressat9:30tomorrow(Thursday)evening.Yourstruly,HUGOCORNWORTHY(Secretary)P.S.Pleasebringthisletterwithyou.
DeftlythebutlerrelievedPoirotofhat,stickandovercoat.Hesaid:
“WillyoupleasecomeuptoMr.Cornworthy’sroom?”
Heledthewayupthebroadstaircase.Poirotfollowedhim,lookingwithappreciationatsuchobjetsd’artaswereofanopulentandfloridnature!Histasteinartwasalwayssomewhatbourgeois.
Onthefirstfloorthebutlerknockedonadoor.
HerculePoirot’seyebrowsroseveryslightly.Itwasthefirstjarringnote.Forthebestbutlersdonotknockatdoors—andyetindubitablythiswasafirst-classbutler!
Itwas,sotospeak,thefirstintimationofcontactwiththeeccentricityofamillionaire.
Avoicefromwithincalledoutsomething.Thebutlerthrewopenthedoor.Heannounced(andagainPoirotsensedthedeliberatedeparturefromorthodoxy):
“Thegentlemanyouareexpecting,sir.”
Poirotpassedintotheroom.Itwasafair-sizedroom,veryplainlyfurnishedinaworkmanlikefashion.Filingcabinets,booksofreference,acoupleofeasychairs,andalargeandimposingdeskcoveredwithneatlydocketedpapers.Thecornersoftheroomweredim,fortheonlylightcamefromabiggreen-shadedreadinglampwhichstoodonasmalltablebythearmofoneoftheeasychairs.Itwasplacedsoastocastitsfulllightonanyoneapproachingfromthedoor.HerculePoirotblinkedalittle,realizingthatthelampbulbwasatleast150watts.Inthearmchairsatathinfigureinapatchworkdressinggown—BenedictFarley.Hisheadwasstuckforwardinacharacteristicattitude,hisbeakednoseprojectinglikethatofabird.Acrestofwhitehairlikethatofacockatooroseabovehisforehead.Hiseyesglitteredbehindthicklensesashepeeredsuspiciouslyathisvisitor.
“Hey,”hesaidatlast—andhisvoicewasshrillandharsh,witharaspingnoteinit.“Soyou’reHerculePoirot,hey?”
“Atyourservice,”saidPoirotpolitelyandbowed,onehandonthebackofthechair.
“Sitdown—sitdown,”saidtheoldmantestily.
HerculePoirotsatdown—inthefullglareofthelamp.Frombehindittheoldmanseemedtobestudyinghimattentively.
“HowdoIknowyou’reHerculePoirot—hey?”hedemandedfretfully.“Tellmethat—hey?”
OncemorePoirotdrewtheletterfromhispocketandhandedittoFarley.
“Yes,”admittedthemillionairegrudgingly.“That’sit.That’swhatIgotCornworthytowrite.”Hefoldeditupandtosseditback.“Soyou’rethefellow,areyou?”
WithalittlewaveofhishandPoirotsaid:
“Iassureyouthereisnodeception!”
BenedictFarleychuckledsuddenly.
“That’swhattheconjurersaysbeforehetakesthegoldfishoutofthehat!Sayingthatispartofthetrick,youknow!”
Poirotdidnotreply.Farleysaidsuddenly:
“ThinkI’masuspiciousoldman,hey?SoIam.Don’ttrustanybody!That’smymotto.Can’ttrustanybodywhenyou’rerich.No,no,itdoesn’tdo.”
“Youwished,”Poirothintedgently,“toconsultme?”
Theoldmannodded.
“Gototheexpertanddon’tcountthecost.You’llnotice,M.Poirot,Ihaven’taskedyouyourfee.I’mnotgoingto!Sendmeinthebilllater—Ishan’tcutuproughoverit.Damnedfoolsatthedairythoughttheycouldchargemetwoandnineforeggswhentwoandseven’sthemarketprice—lotofswindlers!Iwon’tbeswindled.Butthemanatthetop’sdifferent.He’sworththemoney.I’matthetopmyself—Iknow.”
HerculePoirotmadenoreply.Helistenedattentively,hisheadpoisedalittleononeside.
Behindhisimpassiveexteriorhewasconsciousofafeelingofdisappointment.Hecouldnotexactlyputhisfingeronit.SofarBenedictFarleyhadruntruetotype—thatis,hehadconformedtothepopularideaofhimself;andyet—Poirotwasdisappointed.
“Theman,”hesaiddisgustedlytohimself,“isamountebank—nothingbutamountebank!”
Hehadknownothermillionaires,eccentricmentoo,butinnearlyeverycasehehadbeenconsciousofacertainforce,aninnerenergythathadcommandedhisrespect.Iftheyhadwornapatchworkdressinggown,itwouldhavebeenbecausetheylikedwearingsuchadressinggown.ButthedressinggownofBenedictFarley,orsoitseemedtoPoirot,wasessentiallyastageproperty.Andthemanhimselfwasessentiallystagy.Everywordhespokewasuttered,soPoirotfeltassured,sheerlyforeffect.
Herepeatedagainunemotionally,“Youwishedtoconsultme,Mr.Farley?”
Abruptlythemillionaire’smannerchanged.
Heleanedforward.Hisvoicedroppedtoacroak.
“Yes.Yes…Iwanttohearwhatyou’vegottosay—whatyouthink…Gotothetop!That’smyway!Thebestdoctor—thebestdetective—it’sbetweenthetwoofthem.”
“Asyet,Monsieur,Idonotunderstand.”
“Naturally,”snappedFarley.“Ihaven’tbeguntotellyou.”
Heleanedforwardoncemoreandshotoutanabruptquestion.
“Whatdoyouknow,M.Poirot,aboutdreams?”
Thelittleman’seyebrowsrose.Whateverhehadexpected,itwasnotthis.
“Forthat,M.Farley,IshouldrecommendNapoleon’sBookofDreams—orthelatestpractisingpsychologistfromHarleyStreet.”
BenedictFarleysaidsoberly,“I’vetriedboth….”
Therewasapause,thenthemillionairespoke,atfirstalmostinawhisper,thenwithavoicegrowinghigherandhigher.
“It’sthesamedream—nightafternight.AndI’mafraid,Itellyou—I’mafraid…It’salwaysthesame.I’msittinginmyroomnextdoortothis.Sittingatmydesk,writing.There’saclockthereandIglanceatitandseethetime—exactlytwenty-eightminutespastthree.Alwaysthesametime,youunderstand.
“AndwhenIseethetime,M.Poirot,IknowI’vegottodoit.Idon’twanttodoit—Iloathedoingit—butI’vegotto….”
Hisvoicehadrisenshrilly.
Unperturbed,Poirotsaid,“Andwhatisitthatyouhavetodo?”
“Attwenty-eightminutespastthree,”BenedictFarleysaidhoarsely,“Iopentheseconddrawerdownontherightofmydesk,takeouttherevolverthatIkeepthere,loaditandwalkovertothewindow.Andthen—andthen—”
“Yes?”
BenedictFarleysaidinawhisper:
“ThenIshootmyself…”
Therewassilence.
ThenPoirotsaid,“Thatisyourdream?”
“Yes.”
“Thesameeverynight?”
“Yes.”
“Whathappensafteryoushootyourself?”
“Iwakeup.”
Poirotnoddedhisheadslowlyandthoughtfully.“Asamatterofinterest,doyoukeeparevolverinthatparticulardrawer?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Ihavealwaysdoneso.Itisaswelltobeprepared.”
“Preparedforwhat?”
Farleysaidirritably,“Amaninmypositionhastobeonhisguard.Allrichmenhaveenemies.”
Poirotdidnotpursuethesubject.Heremainedsilentforamomentortwo,thenhesaid:
“Whyexactlydidyousendforme?”
“Iwilltellyou.FirstofallIconsultedadoctor—threedoctorstobeexact.”
“Yes?”
“Thefirsttoldmeitwasallaquestionofdiet.Hewasanelderlyman.Thesecondwasayoungmanofthemodernschool.Heassuredmethatitallhingedonacertaineventthattookplaceininfancyatthatparticulartimeofday—threetwenty-eight.Iamsodetermined,hesays,nottoremembertheevent,thatIsymbolizeitbydestroyingmyself.
“Andthethirddoctor?”askedPoirot.
BenedictFarley’svoiceroseinshrillanger.
“He’sayoungmantoo.Hehasapreposteroustheory!HeassertsthatI,myself,amtiredoflife,thatmylifeissounbearabletomethatIdeliberatelywanttoendit!ButsincetoacknowledgethatfactwouldbetoacknowledgethatessentiallyIamafailure,Irefuseinmywakingmomentstofacethetruth.ButwhenIamasleep,allinhibitionsareremoved,andIproceedtodothatwhichIreallywishtodo.Iputanendtomyself.”
“Hisviewisthatyoureallywish,unknowntoyourself,tocommitsuicide?”saidPoirot.
BenedictFarleycriedshrilly:
“Andthat’simpossible—impossible!I’mperfectlyhappy!I’vegoteverythingIwant—everythingmoneycanbuy!It’sfantastic—unbelievableeventosuggestathinglikethat!”
Poirotlookedathimwithinterest.Perhapssomethingintheshakinghands,thetremblingshrillnessofthevoice,warnedhimthatthedenialwastoovehement,thatitsveryinsistencewasinitselfsuspect.Hecontentedhimselfwithsaying:
“AndwheredoIcomein,Monsieur?”
BenedictFarleycalmeddownsuddenly.Hetappedwithanemphaticfingeronthetablebesidehim.
“There’sanotherpossibility.Andifit’sright,you’rethemantoknowaboutit!You’refamous,you’vehadhundredsofcases—fantastic,improbablecases!You’dknowifanyonedoes.”
“Knowwhat?”
Farley’svoicedroppedtoawhisper.
“Supposingsomeonewantstokillme…Couldtheydoitthisway?Couldtheymakemedreamthatdreamnightafternight?”
“Hypnotism,youmean?”
“Yes.”
HerculePoirotconsideredthequestion.
“Itwouldbepossible,Isuppose,”hesaidatlast.“Itismoreaquestionforadoctor.”
“Youdon’tknowofsuchacaseinyourexperience?”
“Notpreciselyonthoselines,no.”
“YouseewhatI’mdrivingat?I’mmadetodreamthesamedream,nightafternight,nightafternight—andthen—onedaythesuggestionistoomuchforme—andIactuponit.IdowhatI’vedreamedofsooften—killmyself!”
SlowlyHerculePoirotshookhishead.
“Youdon’tthinkthatispossible?”askedFarley.
“Possible?”Poirotshookhishead.“ThatisnotawordIcaretomeddlewith.”
“Butyouthinkitimprobable?”
“Mostimprobable.”
BenedictFarleymurmured.“Thedoctorsaidsotoo…”Thenhisvoicerisingshrillyagain,hecriedout,“ButwhydoIhavethisdream?Why?Why?”
HerculePoirotshookhishead.BenedictFarleysaidabruptly,“You’resureyou’venevercomeacrossanythinglikethisinyourexperience?”
“Never.”
“That’swhatIwantedtoknow.”
Delicately,Poirotclearedhisthroat.
“Youpermit,”hesaid,“aquestion?”
“Whatisit?Whatisit?Saywhatyoulike.”
“Whoisityoususpectofwantingtokillyou?”
Farleysnappedout,“Nobody.Nobodyatall.”
“Buttheideapresenteditselftoyourmind?”Poirotpersisted.
“Iwantedtoknow—ifitwasapossibility.”
“Speakingfrommyownexperience,IshouldsayNo.Haveyoueverbeenhypnotized,bytheway?”
“Ofcoursenot.D’youthinkI’dlendmyselftosuchtomfoolery?”
“ThenIthinkonecansaythatyourtheoryisdefinitelyimprobable.”
“Butthedream,youfool,thedream.”
“Thedreamiscertainlyremarkable,”saidPoirotthoughtfully.Hepausedandthenwenton.“Ishouldliketoseethesceneofthisdrama—thetable,theclock,andtherevolver.”
“Ofcourse,I’lltakeyounextdoor.”
Wrappingthefoldsofhisdressinggownroundhim,theoldmanhalfrosefromhischair.Thensuddenly,asthoughathoughthadstruckhim,heresumedhisseat.
“No,”hesaid.“There’snothingtoseethere.I’vetoldyouallthereistotell.”
“ButIshouldliketoseeformyself—”
“There’snoneed,”Farleysnapped.“You’vegivenmeyouropinion.That’stheend.”
Poirotshruggedhisshoulders.“Asyouplease.”Herosetohisfeet.“Iamsorry,Mr.Farley,thatIhavenotbeenabletobeofassistancetoyou.”
BenedictFarleywasstaringstraightaheadofhim.
“Don’twantalotofhanky-pankyingaround,”hegrowledout.“I’vetoldyouthefacts—youcan’tmakeanythingofthem.Thatclosesthematter.Youcansendmeabillfortheconsultationfee.”
“Ishallnotfailtodoso,”saidthedetectivedrily.Hewalkedtowardsthedoor.
“Stopaminute.”Themillionairecalledhimback.“Thatletter—Iwantit.”
“Theletterfromyoursecretary?”
“Yes.”
Poirot’seyebrowsrose.Heputhishandintohispocket,drewoutafoldedsheet,andhandedittotheoldman.Thelatterscrutinizedit,thenputitdownonthetablebesidehimwithanod.
OncemoreHerculePoirotwalkedtothedoor.Hewaspuzzled.Hisbusymindwasgoingoverandoverthestoryhehadbeentold.Yetinthemidstofhismentalpreoccupation,anaggingsenseofsomethingwrongobtrudeditself.Andthatsomethinghadtodowithhimself—notwithBenedictFarley.
Withhishandonthedoorknob,hismindcleared.He,HerculePoirot,hadbeenguiltyofanerror!Heturnedbackintotheroomoncemore.
“Athousandpardons!IntheinterestofyourproblemIhavecommittedafolly!ThatletterIhandedtoyou—bymischanceIputmyhandintomyright-handpocketinsteadoftheleft—”
“What’sallthis?What’sallthis?”
“TheletterthatIhandedyoujustnow—anapologyfrommylaundressconcerningthetreatmentofmycollars.”Poirotwassmiling,apologetic.Hedippedintohisleft-handpocket.“Thisisyourletter.”
BenedictFarleysnatchedatit—grunted:“Whythedevilcan’tyoumindwhatyou’redoing?”
Poirotretrievedhislaundress’scommunication,apologizedgracefullyoncemore,andlefttheroom.
Hepausedforamomentoutsideonthelanding.Itwasaspaciousone.Directlyfacinghimwasabigoldoaksettlewitharefectorytableinfrontofit.Onthetableweremagazines.Therewerealsotwoarmchairsandatablewithflowers.Itremindedhimalittleofadentist’swaitingroom.
Thebutlerwasinthehallbelowwaitingtolethimout.
“CanIgetyouataxi,sir?”
“No,Ithankyou.Thenightisfine.Iwillwalk.”
HerculePoirotpausedamomentonthepavementwaitingforalullinthetrafficbeforecrossingthebusystreet.
Afrowncreasedhisforehead.
“No,”hesaidtohimself.“Idonotunderstandatall.Nothingmakessense.Regrettabletohavetoadmitit,butI,HerculePoirot,amcompletelybaffled.”
Thatwaswhatmightbetermedthefirstactofthedrama.Thesecondactfollowedaweeklater.ItopenedwithatelephonecallfromoneJohnStillingfleet,MD.
Hesaidwitharemarkablelackofmedicaldecorum:
“Thatyou,Poirot,oldhorse?Stillingfleethere.”
“Yes,myfriend.Whatisit?”
“I’mspeakingfromNorthwayHouse—BenedictFarley’s.”
“Ah,yes?”Poirot’svoicequickenedwithinterest.“Whatof—Mr.Farley?”
“Farley’sdead.Shothimselfthisafternoon.”
Therewasapause,thenPoirotsaid:
“Yes….”
“Inoticeyou’renotovercomewithsurprise.Knowsomethingaboutit,oldhorse?”
“Whyshouldyouthinkthat?”
“Well,itisn’tbrilliantdeductionortelepathyoranythinglikethat.WefoundanotefromFarleytoyoumakinganappointmentaboutaweekago.”
“Isee.”
“We’vegotatamepoliceinspectorhere—gottobecareful,youknow,whenoneofthesemillionaireblokesbumpshimselfoff.Wonderedwhetheryoucouldthrowanylightonthecase.Ifso,perhapsyou’dcomeround?”
“Iwillcomeimmediately.”
“Goodforyou,oldboy.Somedirtyworkatthecrossroads—eh?”
Poirotmerelyrepeatedthathewouldsetforthimmediately.
“Don’twanttospillthebeansoverthetelephone?Quiteright.Solong.”
AquarterofanhourlaterPoirotwassittinginthelibrary,alowlongroomatthebackofNorthwayHouseonthegroundfloor.Therewerefiveotherpersonsintheroom.InspectorBarnett,Dr.Stillingfleet,Mrs.Farley,thewidowofthemillionaire,JoannaFarley,hisonlydaughter,andHugoCornworthy,hisprivatesecretary.
Ofthese,InspectorBarnettwasadiscreetsoldierly-lookingman.Dr.Stillingfleet,whoseprofessionalmannerwasentirelydifferentfromhistelephonicstyle,wasatall,long-facedyoungmanofthirty.Mrs.Farleywasobviouslyverymuchyoungerthanherhusband.Shewasahandsomedark-hairedwoman.Hermouthwashardandherblackeyesgaveabsolutelynocluetoheremotions.Sheappearedperfectlyself-possessed.JoannaFarleyhadfairhairandafreckledface.Theprominenceofhernoseandchinwasclearlyinheritedfromherfather.Hereyeswereintelligentandshrewd.HugoCornworthywasagood-lookingyoungfellow,verycorrectlydressed.Heseemedintelligentandefficient.
Aftergreetingsandintroductions,PoirotnarratedsimplyandclearlythecircumstancesofhisvisitandthestorytoldhimbyBenedictFarley.Hecouldnotcomplainofanylackofinterest.
“MostextraordinarystoryI’veeverheard!”saidtheinspector.“Adream,eh?Didyouknowanythingaboutthis,Mrs.Farley?”
Shebowedherhead.
“Myhusbandmentionedittome.Itupsethimverymuch.I—Itoldhimitwasindigestion—hisdiet,youknow,wasverypeculiar—andsuggestedhiscallinginDr.Stillingfleet.”
Theyoungmanshookhishead.
“Hedidn’tconsultme.FromM.Poirot’sstory,IgatherhewenttoHarleyStreet.”
“Iwouldlikeyouradviceonthatpoint,Doctor,”saidPoirot.“Mr.Farleytoldmethatheconsultedthreespecialists.Whatdoyouthinkofthetheoriestheyadvanced?”
Stillingfleetfrowned.
“It’sdifficulttosay.You’vegottotakeintoaccountthatwhathepassedontoyouwasn’texactlywhathadbeensaidtohim.Itwasalayman’sinterpretation.”
“Youmeanhehadgotthephraseologywrong?”
“Notexactly.Imeantheywouldputathingtohiminprofessionalterms,he’dgetthemeaningalittledistorted,andthenrecastitinhisownlanguage.”
“Sothatwhathetoldmewasnotreallywhatthedoctorssaid.”
“That’swhatitamountsto.He’sjustgotitallalittlewrong,ifyouknowwhatImean.”
Poirotnoddedthoughtfully.“Isitknownwhomheconsulted?”heasked.
Mrs.Farleyshookherhead,andJoannaFarleyremarked:
“Noneofushadanyideahehadconsultedanyone.”
“Didhespeaktoyouabouthisdream?”askedPoirot.
Thegirlshookherhead.
“Andyou,Mr.Cornworthy?”
“No,hesaidnothingatall.Itookdownalettertoyouathisdictation,butIhadnoideawhyhewishedtoconsultyou.Ithoughtitmightpossiblyhavesomethingtodowithsomebusinessirregularity.”
Poirotasked:“AndnowastotheactualfactsofMr.Farley’sdeath?”
InspectorBarnettlookedinterrogativelyatMrs.FarleyandatDr.Stillingfleet,andthentookuponhimselftheroleofspokesman.
“Mr.Farleywasinthehabitofworkinginhisownroomonthefirstflooreveryafternoon.Iunderstandthattherewasabigamalgamationofbusinessinprospect—”
HelookedatHugoCornworthywhosaid,“ConsolidatedCoachlines.”
“Inconnectionwiththat,”continuedInspectorBarnett,“Mr.FarleyhadagreedtogiveaninterviewtotwomembersofthePress.Heveryseldomdidanythingofthekind—onlyaboutonceinfiveyears,Iunderstand.Accordinglytworeporters,onefromtheAssociatedNewsgroups,andonefromAmalgamatedPress-sheets,arrivedataquarterpastthreebyappointment.TheywaitedonthefirstflooroutsideMr.Farley’sdoor—whichwasthecustomaryplaceforpeopletowaitwhohadanappointmentwithMr.Farley.AttwentypastthreeamessengerarrivedfromtheofficeofConsolidatedCoachlineswithsomeurgentpapers.HewasshownintoMr.Farley’sroomwherehehandedoverthedocuments.Mr.Farleyaccompaniedhimtothedoor,andfromtherespoketothetwomembersofthePress.Hesaid:
“‘I’msorry,gentlemen,tohavetokeepyouwaiting,butIhavesomeurgentbusinesstoattendto.IwillbeasquickasIcan.’
“Thetwogentlemen,Mr.AdamsandMr.Stoddart,assuredMr.Farleythattheywouldawaithisconvenience.Hewentbackintohisroom,shutthedoor—andwasneverseenaliveagain!”
“Continue,”saidPoirot.
“Atalittleafterfouro’clock,”wentontheinspector,“Mr.CornworthyherecameoutofhisroomwhichisnextdoortoMr.Farley’sandwassurprisedtoseethetworeportersstillwaiting.HewantedMr.Farley’ssignaturetosomelettersandthoughthehadalsobetterremindhimthatthesetwogentlemenwerewaiting.HeaccordinglywentintoMr.Farley’sroom.TohissurprisehecouldnotatfirstseeMr.Farleyandthoughttheroomwasempty.Thenhecaughtsightofabootstickingoutbehindthedesk(whichisplacedinfrontofthewindow).HewentquicklyacrossanddiscoveredMr.Farleylyingtheredead,witharevolverbesidehim.
“Mr.CornworthyhurriedoutoftheroomanddirectedthebutlertoringupDr.Stillingfleet.Bythelatter’sadvice,Mr.Cornworthyalsoinformedthepolice.”
“Wastheshotheard?”askedPoirot.
“No.Thetrafficisverynoisyhere,thelandingwindowwasopen.Whatwithlorriesandmotorhornsitwouldbemostunlikelyifithadbeennoticed.”
Poirotnoddedthoughtfully.“Whattimeisitsupposedhedied?”heasked.
Stillingfleetsaid:
“IexaminedthebodyassoonasIgothere—thatis,atthirty-twominutespastfour.Mr.Farleyhadbeendeadatleastanhour.”
Poirot’sfacewasverygrave.
“Sothen,itseemspossiblethathisdeathcouldhaveoccurredatthetimehementionedtome—thatis,attwenty-eightminutespastthree.”
“Exactly,”saidStillingfleet.
“Anyfingermarksontherevolver?”
“Yes,hisown.”
“Andtherevolveritself?”
Theinspectortookupthetale.
“Wasonewhichhekeptinthesecondright-handdrawerofhisdesk,justashetoldyou.Mrs.Farleyhasidentifieditpositively.Moreover,youunderstand,thereisonlyoneentrancetotheroom,thedoorgivingontothelanding.ThetworeportersweresittingexactlyoppositethatdoorandtheyswearthatnooneenteredtheroomfromthetimeMr.Farleyspoketothem,untilMr.Cornworthyentereditatalittleafterfouro’clock.”
“SothatthereiseveryreasontosupposethatMr.Farleycommittedsuicide.”
InspectorBarnettsmiledalittle.
“Therewouldhavebeennodoubtatallbutforonepoint.”
“Andthat?”
“Theletterwrittentoyou.”
Poirotsmiledtoo.
“Isee!WhereHerculePoirotisconcerned—immediatelythesuspicionofmurderarises!”
“Precisely,”saidtheinspectordryly.“However,afteryourclearingupofthesituation—”
Poirotinterruptedhim.“Onelittleminute.”HeturnedtoMrs.Farley.“Hadyourhusbandeverbeenhypnotized?”
“Never.”
“Hadhestudiedthequestionofhypnotism?Washeinterestedinthesubject?”
Sheshookherhead.“Idon’tthinkso.”
Suddenlyherself-controlseemedtobreakdown.“Thathorribledream!It’suncanny!Thatheshouldhavedreamedthat—nightafternight—andthen—it’sasthoughhewere—houndedtodeath!”
PoirotrememberedBenedictFarleysaying—“IproceedtodothatwhichIreallywishtodo.Iputanendtomyself.”
Hesaid,“Haditeveroccurredtoyouthatyourhusbandmightbetemptedtodoawaywithhimself?”
“No—atleast—sometimeshewasveryqueer….”
JoannaFarley’svoicebrokeinclearandscornful.“Fatherwouldneverhavekilledhimself.Hewasfartoocarefulofhimself.”
Dr.Stillingfleetsaid,“Itisn’tthepeoplewhothreatentocommitsuicidewhousuallydoit,youknow,MissFarley.That’swhysuicidessometimesseemunaccountable.”
Poirotrosetohisfeet.“Isitpermitted,”heasked,“thatIseetheroomwherethetragedyoccurred?”
“Certainly.Dr.Stillingfleet—”
ThedoctoraccompaniedPoirotupstairs.
BenedictFarley’sroomwasamuchlargeronethanthesecretary’snextdoor.Itwasluxuriouslyfurnishedwithdeepleather-coveredarmchairs,athickpilecarpet,andasuperboutsizewritingdesk.
Poirotpassedbehindthelattertowhereadarkstainonthecarpetshowedjustbeforethewindow.Herememberedthemillionairesaying,“Attwenty-eightminutespastthreeIopentheseconddrawerontherightofmydesk,takeouttherevolverthatIkeepthere,loadit,andwalkovertothewindow.Andthen—andthenIshootmyself.”
Henoddedslowly.Thenhesaid:
“Thewindowwasopenlikethis?”
“Yes.Butnobodycouldhavegotinthatway.”
Poirotputhisheadout.Therewasnosillorparapetandnopipesnear.Notevenacatcouldhavegainedaccessthatway.Oppositerosetheblankwallofthefactory,adeadwallwithnowindowsinit.
Stillingfleetsaid,“Funnyroomforarichmantochooseashisownsanctum,withthatoutlook.It’slikelookingoutontoaprisonwall.”
“Yes,”saidPoirot.Hedrewhisheadinandstaredattheexpanseofsolidbrick.“Ithink,”hesaid,“thatthatwallisimportant.”
Stillingfleetlookedathimcuriously.“Youmean—psychologically?”
Poirothadmovedtothedesk.Idly,orsoitseemed,hepickedupapairofwhatareusuallycalledlazy-tongs.Hepressedthehandles;thetongsshotouttotheirfulllength.Delicately,Poirotpickedupaburntmatchstumpwiththemfrombesideachairsomefeetawayandconveyeditcarefullytothewastepaperbasket.
“Whenyou’vefinishedplayingwiththosethings…”saidStillingfleetirritably.
HerculePoirotmurmured,“Aningeniousinvention,”andreplacedthetongsneatlyonthewritingtable.Thenheasked:
“WherewereMrs.FarleyandMissFarleyatthetimeofthe—death?”
“Mrs.Farleywasrestinginherroomonthefloorabovethis.MissFarleywaspaintinginherstudioatthetopofthehouse.”
HerculePoirotdrummedidlywithhisfingersonthetableforaminuteortwo.Thenhesaid:
“IshouldliketoseeMissFarley.Doyouthinkyoucouldaskhertocomehereforaminuteortwo?”
“Ifyoulike.”
Stillingfleetglancedathimcuriously,thenlefttheroom.InanotherminuteortwothedooropenedandJoannaFarleycamein.
“Youdonotmind,Mademoiselle,ifIaskyouafewquestions?”
Shereturnedhisglancecoolly.“Pleaseaskanythingyouchoose.”
“Didyouknowthatyourfatherkeptarevolverinhisdesk?”
“No.”
“Wherewereyouandyourmother—thatistosayyourstepmother—thatisright?”
“Yes,Louiseismyfather’ssecondwife.SheisonlyeightyearsolderthanIam.Youwereabouttosay—?”
“WherewereyouandsheonThursdayoflastweek?Thatistosay,onThursdaynight.”
Shereflectedforaminuteortwo.
“Thursday?Letmesee.Oh,yes,wehadgonetothetheatre.ToseeLittleDogLaughed.”
“Yourfatherdidnotsuggestaccompanyingyou?”
“Heneverwentouttotheatres.”
“Whatdidheusuallydointheevenings?”
“Hesatinhereandread.”
“Hewasnotaverysociableman?”
Thegirllookedathimdirectly.“Myfather,”shesaid,“hadasingularlyunpleasantpersonality.Noonewholivedincloseassociationwithhimcouldpossiblybefondofhim.”
“That,Mademoiselle,isaverycandidstatement.”
“Iamsavingyoutime,M.Poirot.Irealizequitewellwhatyouaregettingat.Mystepmothermarriedmyfatherforhismoney.IliveherebecauseIhavenomoneytoliveelsewhere.ThereisamanIwishtomarry—apoorman;myfathersawtoitthathelosthisjob.Hewantedme,yousee,tomarrywell—aneasymattersinceIwastobehisheiress!”
“Yourfather’sfortunepassestoyou?”
“Yes.Thatis,heleftLouise,mystepmother,aquarterofamillionfreeoftax,andthereareotherlegacies,buttheresiduegoestome.”Shesmiledsuddenly.“Soyousee,M.Poirot,Ihadeveryreasontodesiremyfather’sdeath!”
“Isee,Mademoiselle,thatyouhaveinheritedyourfather’sintelligence.”
Shesaidthoughtfully,“Fatherwasclever…Onefeltthatwithhim—thathehadforce—drivingpower—butithadallturnedsour—bitter—therewasnohumanityleft….”
HerculePoirotsaidsoftly,“GrandDieu,butwhatanimbecileIam….”
JoannaFarleyturnedtowardsthedoor.“Isthereanythingmore?”
“Twolittlequestions.Thesetongshere,”hepickedupthelazy-tongs,“weretheyalwaysonthetable?”
“Yes.Fatherusedthemforpickingupthings.Hedidn’tlikestooping.”
“Oneotherquestion.Wasyourfather’seyesightgood?”
Shestaredathim.
“Oh,no—hecouldn’tseeatall—Imeanhecouldn’tseewithouthisglasses.Hissighthadalwaysbeenbadfromaboy.”
“Butwithhisglasses?”
“Oh,hecouldseeallrightthen,ofcourse.”
“Hecouldreadnewspapersandfineprint?”
“Oh,yes.”
“Thatisall,Mademoiselle.”
Shewentoutoftheroom.
Poirotmurmured,“Iwasstupid.Itwasthere,allthetime,undermynose.AndbecauseitwassonearIcouldnotseeit.”
Heleanedoutofthewindowoncemore.Downbelow,inthenarrowwaybetweenthehouseandthefactory,hesawasmalldarkobject.
HerculePoirotnodded,satisfied,andwentdownstairsagain.
Theotherswerestillinthelibrary.Poirotaddressedhimselftothesecretary:
“Iwantyou,Mr.Cornworthy,torecounttomeindetailtheexactcircumstancesofMr.Farley’ssummonstome.When,forinstance,didMr.Farleydictatethatletter?”
“OnWednesdayafternoon—atfivethirty,asfarasIcanremember.”
“Werethereanyspecialdirectionsaboutpostingit?”
“Hetoldmetopostitmyself.”
“Andyoudidso?”
“Yes.”
“Didhegiveanyspecialinstructionstothebutleraboutadmittingme?”
“Yes.HetoldmetotellHolmes(Holmesisthebutler)thatagentlemanwouldbecallingatninethirty.Hewastoaskthegentleman’sname.Hewasalsotoasktoseetheletter.”
“Ratherpeculiarprecautiontotake,don’tyouthink?”
Cornworthyshruggedhisshoulders.
“Mr.Farley,”hesaidcarefully,“wasratherapeculiarman.”
“Anyotherinstructions?”
“Yes.Hetoldmetotaketheeveningoff.”
“Didyoudoso?”
“Yes,immediatelyafterdinnerIwenttothecinema.”
“Whendidyoureturn?”
“Iletmyselfinaboutaquarterpasteleven.”
“DidyouseeMr.Farleyagainthatevening?”
“No.”
“Andhedidnotmentionthematterthenextmorning?”
“No.”
Poirotpausedamoment,thenresumed,“WhenIarrivedIwasnotshownintoMr.Farley’sownroom.”
“No.HetoldmethatIwastotellHolmestoshowyouintomyroom.”
“Whywasthat?Doyouknow?”
Cornworthyshookhishead.“IneverquestionedanyofMr.Farley’sorders,”hesaiddryly.“HewouldhaveresenteditifIhad.”
“Didheusuallyreceivevisitorsinhisownroom?”
“Usually,butnotalways.Sometimeshesawtheminmyroom.”
“Wasthereanyreasonforthat?”
HugoCornworthyconsidered.
“No—Ihardlythinkso—I’veneverreallythoughtaboutit.”
TurningtoMrs.Farley,Poirotasked:
“YoupermitthatIringforyourbutler?”
“Certainly,M.Poirot.”
Verycorrect,veryurbane,Holmesansweredthebell.
“Yourang,madam?”
Mrs.FarleyindicatedPoirotwithagesture.Holmesturnedpolitely.“Yes,sir?”
“Whatwereyourinstructions,Holmes,ontheThursdaynightwhenIcamehere?”
Holmesclearedhisthroat,thensaid:
“AfterdinnerMr.CornworthytoldmethatMr.FarleyexpectedaMr.HerculePoirotatninethirty.Iwastoascertainthegentleman’sname,andIwastoverifytheinformationbyglancingataletter.ThenIwastoshowhimuptoMr.Cornworthy’sroom.”
“Wereyoualsotoldtoknockonthedoor?”
Anexpressionofdistastecrossedthebutler’scountenance.
“ThatwasoneofMr.Farley’sorders.Iwasalwaystoknockwhenintroducingvisitors—businessvisitors,thatis,”headded.
“Ah,thatpuzzledme!Wereyougivenanyotherinstructionsconcerningme?”
“No,sir.WhenMr.CornworthyhadtoldmewhatIhavejustrepeatedtoyouhewentout.”
“Whattimewasthat?”
“Tenminutestonine,sir.”
“DidyouseeMr.Farleyafterthat?”
“Yes,sir,Itookhimupaglassofhotwaterasusualatnineo’clock.”
“WashetheninhisownroomorinMr.Cornworthy’s?”
“Hewasinhisownroom,sir.”
“Younoticednothingunusualaboutthatroom?”
“Unusual?No,sir.”
“WherewereMrs.FarleyandMissFarley?”
“Theyhadgonetothetheatre,sir.”
“Thankyou,Holmes,thatwilldo.”
Holmesbowedandlefttheroom.Poirotturnedtothemillionaire’swidow.
“Onemorequestion,Mrs.Farley.Hadyourhusbandgoodsight?”
“No.Notwithouthisglasses.”
“Hewasveryshortsighted?”
“Oh,yes,hewasquitehelplesswithouthisspectacles.”
“Hehadseveralpairsofglasses?”
“Yes.”
“Ah,”saidPoirot.Heleanedback.“Ithinkthatthatconcludesthecase….”
Therewassilenceintheroom.Theywerealllookingatthelittlemanwhosattherecomplacentlystrokinghismoustache.Ontheinspector’sfacewasperplexity,Dr.Stillingfleetwasfrowning,Cornworthymerelystareduncomprehendingly,Mrs.Farleygazedinblankastonishment,JoannaFarleylookedeager.
Mrs.Farleybrokethesilence.
“Idon’tunderstand,M.Poirot.”Hervoicewasfretful.“Thedream—”
“Yes,”saidPoirot.“Thatdreamwasveryimportant.”
Mrs.Farleyshivered.Shesaid:
“I’veneverbelievedinanythingsupernaturalbefore—butnow—todreamitnightafternightbeforehand—”
“It’sextraordinary,”saidStillingfleet.“Extraordinary!Ifwehadn’tgotyourwordforit,Poirot,andifyouhadn’thaditstraightfromthehorse’smouth—”hecoughedinembarrassment,andreadoptinghisprofessionalmanner,“Ibegyourpardon,Mrs.Farley.IfMr.Farleyhimselfhadnottoldthatstory—”
“Exactly,”saidPoirot.Hiseyes,whichhadbeenhalf-closed,openedsuddenly.Theywereverygreen.“IfBenedictFarleyhadn’ttoldme—”
Hepausedaminute,lookingaroundatacircleofblankfaces.
“Therearecertainthings,youcomprehend,thathappenedthateveningwhichIwasquiteatalosstoexplain.First,whymakesuchapointofmybringingthatletterwithme?”
“Identification,”suggestedCornworthy.
“No,no,mydearyoungman.Reallythatideaistooridiculous.Theremustbesomemuchmorevalidreason.FornotonlydidMr.Farleyrequiretoseethatletterproduced,buthedefinitelydemandedthatIshouldleaveitbehindme.Andmoreovereventhenhedidnotdestroyit!Itwasfoundamonghispapersthisafternoon.Whydidhekeepit?”
JoannaFarley’svoicebrokein.“Hewanted,incaseanythinghappenedtohim,thatthefactsofhisstrangedreamshouldbemadeknown.”
Poirotnoddedapprovingly.
“Youareastute,Mademoiselle.Thatmustbe—thatcanonlybe—thepointofthekeepingoftheletter.WhenMr.Farleywasdead,thestoryofthatstrangedreamwastobetold!Thatdreamwasveryimportant.Thatdream,Mademoiselle,wasvital!
“Iwillcomenow,”hewenton,“tothesecondpoint.AfterhearinghisstoryIaskMr.Farleytoshowmethedeskandtherevolver.Heseemsabouttogetuptodoso,thensuddenlyrefuses.Whydidherefuse?”
Thistimenooneadvancedananswer.
“Iwillputthatquestiondifferently.WhatwasthereinthatnextroomthatMr.Farleydidnotwantmetosee?”
Therewasstillsilence.
“Yes,”saidPoirot,“itisdifficult,that.Andyettherewassomereason—someurgentreasonwhyMr.Farleyreceivedmeinhissecretary’sroomandrefusedpointblanktotakemeintohisownroom.Therewassomethinginthatroomhecouldnotaffordtohavemesee.
“AndnowIcometothethirdinexplicablethingthathappenedonthatevening.Mr.Farley,justasIwasleaving,requestedmetohandhimtheletterIhadreceived.ByinadvertenceIhandedhimacommunicationfrommylaundress.Heglancedatitandlaiditdownbesidehim.JustbeforeIlefttheroomIdiscoveredmyerror—andrectifiedit!After
Helookedroundfromonetotheother.
“Youdonotsee?”
Stillingfleetsaid,“Idon’treallyseehowyourlaundresscomesintoit,Poirot.”
“Mylaundress,”saidPoirot,“wasveryimportant.Thatmiserablewomanwhoruinsmycollars,was,forthefirsttimeinherlife,usefultosomebody.Surelyyousee—itissoobvious.Mr.Farleyglancedatthatcommunication—oneglancewouldhavetoldhimthatitwasthewrongletter—andyetheknewnothing.Why?Becausehecouldnotseeitproperly!”
InspectorBarnettsaidsharply,“Didn’thehavehisglasseson?”
HerculePoirotsmiled.“Yes,”hesaid.“Hehadhisglasseson.Thatiswhatmakesitsoveryinteresting.”
Heleanedforward.
“Mr.Farley’sdreamwasveryimportant.Hedreamed,yousee,thathecommittedsuicide.Andalittlelateron,hedidcommitsuicide.Thatistosayhewasaloneinaroomandwasfoundtherewitharevolverbyhim,andnooneenteredorlefttheroomatthetimethathewasshot.Whatdoesthatmean?Itmeans,doesitnot,thatitmustbesuicide!”
“Yes,”saidStillingfleet.
HerculePoirotshookhishead.
“Onthecontrary,”hesaid.“Itwasmurder.Anunusualandaverycleverlyplannedmurder.”
Againheleanedforward,tappingthetable,hiseyesgreenandshining.
“WhydidMr.Farleynotallowmetogointohisownroomthatevening?WhatwasthereintherethatImustnotbeallowedtosee?Ithink,myfriends,thattherewas—BenedictFarleyhimself!”
Hesmiledattheblankfaces.
“Yes,yes,itisnotnonsensewhatIsay.WhycouldtheMr.FarleytowhomIhadbeentalkingnotrealizethedifferencebetweentwototallydissimilarletters?Because,mesamis,hewasamanofnormalsightwearingapairofverypowerfulglasses.Thoseglasseswouldrenderamanofnormaleyesightpracticallyblind.Isn’tthatso,Doctor?”
Stillingfleetmurmured,“That’sso—ofcourse.”
“WhydidIfeelthatintalkingtoMr.FarleyIwastalkingtoamountebank,toanactorplayingapart!Considerthesetting.Thedimroom,thegreenshadedlightturnedblindinglyawayfromthefigureinthechair.WhatdidIsee—thefamouspatchworkdressinggown,thebeakednose(fakedwiththatusefulsubstance,noseputty),thewhitecrestofhair,thepowerfullensesconcealingtheeyes.WhatevidenceistherethatMr.Farleyeverhadadream?OnlythestoryIwastoldandtheevidenceofMrs.Farley.WhatevidenceistherethatBenedictFarleykeptarevolverinhisdesk?AgainonlythestorytoldmeandthewordofMrs.Farley.Twopeoplecarriedthisfraudthrough—Mrs.FarleyandHugoCornworthy.Cornworthywrotethelettertome,gaveinstructionstothebutler,wentoutostensiblytothecinema,butlethimselfinagainimmediatelywithakey,wenttohisroom,madehimselfup,andplayedthepartofBenedictFarley.
“Andsowecometothisafternoon.TheopportunityforwhichMr.Cornworthyhasbeenwaitingarrives.TherearetwowitnessesonthelandingtoswearthatnoonegoesinoroutofBenedictFarley’sroom.Cornworthywaitsuntilaparticularlyheavybatchoftrafficisabouttopass.Thenheleansoutofhiswindow,andwiththelazy-tongswhichhehaspurloinedfromthedesknextdoorheholdsanobjectagainstthewindowofthatroom.BenedictFarleycomestothewindow.CornworthysnatchesbackthetongsandasFarleyleansout,andthelorriesarepassingoutside,Cornworthyshootshimwiththerevolverthathehasready.Thereisablankwallopposite,remember.Therecanbenowitnessofthecrime.Cornworthywaitsforoverhalfanhour,thengathersupsomepapers,concealsthelazy-tongsandtherevolverbetweenthemandgoesoutontothelandingandintothenextroom.Hereplacesthetongsonthedesk,laysdowntherevolverafterpressingthedeadman’sfingersonit,andhurriesoutwiththenewsofMr.Farley’s‘suicide.’
“HearrangesthatthelettertomeshallbefoundandthatIshallarrivewithmystory—thestoryIheardfromMr.Farley’sownlips—ofhisextraordinary‘dream’—thestrangecompulsionhefelttokillhimself!Afewcredulouspeoplewilldiscussthehypnotismtheory—butthemainresultwillbetoconfirmwithoutadoubtthattheactualhandthatheldtherevolverwasBenedictFarley’sown.”
HerculePoirot’seyeswenttothewidow’sface—henotedwithsatisfactionthedismay—theashypallor—theblindfear….
“Andinduecourse,”hefinishedgently,“thehappyendingwouldhavebeenachieved.Aquarterofamillionandtwoheartsthatbeatasone….”
JohnStillingfleet,MD,andHerculePoirotwalkedalongthesideofNorthwayHouse.Ontheirrightwasthetoweringwallofthefactory.Abovethem,ontheirleft,werethewindowsofBenedictFarley’sandHugoCornworthy’srooms.HerculePoirotstoppedandpickedupasmallobject—ablackstuffedcat.
“Voilà,”hesaid.“ThatiswhatCornworthyheldinthelazy-tongsagainstFarley’swindow.Youremember,hehatedcats?Naturallyherushedtothewindow.”
“Whyonearthdidn’tCornworthycomeoutandpickitupafterhe’ddroppedit?”
“Howcouldhe?Todosowouldhavebeendefinitelysuspicious.Afterall,ifthisobjectwerefoundwhatwouldanyonethink—thatsomechildhadwanderedroundhereanddroppedit.”
“Yes,”saidStillingfleetwithasigh.“That’sprobablywhattheordinarypersonwouldhavethought.ButnotgoodoldHercule!D’youknow,oldhorse,uptotheverylastminuteIthoughtyouwereleadinguptosomesubtletheoryofhighfalutin’psychological‘suggested’murder?Ibetthosetwothoughtsotoo!Nastybitofgoods,theFarley.Goodness,howshecracked!Cornworthymighthavegotawaywithitifshehadn’thadhystericsandtriedtospoilyourbeautybygoingforyouwithhernails.Ionlygotheroffyoujustintime.”
Hepausedaminuteandthensaid:
“Iratherlikethegirl.Grit,youknow,andbrains.IsupposeI’dbethoughttobeafortunehunterifIhadashotather…?”
“Youaretoolate,myfriend.Thereisalreadysomeonesurletapis.Herfather’sdeathhasopenedthewaytohappiness.”
“Takeitallround,shehadaprettygoodmotiveforbumpingofftheunpleasantparent.”
“Motiveandopportunityarenotenough,”saidPoirot.“Theremustalsobethecriminaltemperament!”
“Iwonderifyou’llevercommitacrime,Poirot?”saidStillingfleet.“Ibetyoucouldgetawaywithitallright.Asamatteroffact,itwouldbetooeasyforyou—Imeanthethingwouldbeoffasdefinitelytoounsporting.”
“That,”saidPoirot,“isatypicalEnglishidea.”
Eight
INAGLASSDARKLY
“InaGlassDarkly”wasfirstpublishedintheUSAinCollier’s,July1934,andtheninWoman’sJournal,December1934.However,itsveryfirstpublicairingwason6April1934whenAgathaChristiereadthestoryonBBCRadio’sNationalProgramme.Norecordingofthis15-minuteperformanceisknowntoexist.
I’venoexplanationofthisstory.I’venotheoriesaboutthewhyandwhereforeofit.It’sjustathing—thathappened.
Allthesame,IsometimeswonderhowthingswouldhavegoneifI’dnoticedatthetimejustthatoneessentialdetailthatIneverappreciateduntilsomanyyearsafterwards.IfIhadnoticedit—well,Isupposethecourseofthreeliveswouldhavebeenentirelyaltered.Somehow—that’saveryfrighteningthought.
Forthebeginningofitall,I’vegottogobacktothesummerof1914—justbeforethewar—whenIwentdowntoBadgeworthywithNeilCarslake.Neilwas,Isuppose,aboutmybestfriend.I’dknownhisbrotherAlantoo,butnotsowell.Sylvia,theirsister,I’dnevermet.ShewastwoyearsyoungerthanAlanandthreeyearsyoungerthanNeil.Twice,whilewewereatschooltogether,I’dbeengoingtospendpartoftheholidayswithNeilatBadgeworthyandtwicesomethinghadintervened.SoitcameaboutthatIwastwenty-threewhenIfirstsawNeilandAlan’shome.
Weweretobequiteabigpartythere.Neil’ssisterSylviahadjustgotengagedtoafellowcalledCharlesCrawley.Hewas,soNeilsaid,agooddealolderthanshewas,butathoroughlydecentchapandquitereasonablywell-off.
Wearrived,Iremember,aboutseveno’clockintheevening.Everyonehadgonetohisroomtodressfordinner.Neiltookmetomine.Badgeworthywasanattractive,ramblingoldhouse.Ithadbeenaddedtofreelyinthelastthreecenturiesandwasfulloflittlestepsupanddown,andunexpectedstaircases.Itwasthesortofhouseinwhichit’snoteasytofindyourwayabout.IrememberNeilpromisedtocomeandfetchmeonhiswaydowntodinner.Iwasfeelingalittleshyattheprospectofmeetinghispeopleforthefirsttime.Iremembersayingwithalaughthatitwasthekindofhouseoneexpectedtomeetghostsinthepassages,andhesaidcarelesslythathebelievedtheplacewassaidtobehauntedbutthatnoneofthemhadeverseenanything,andhedidn’tevenknowwhatformtheghostwassupposedtotake.
ThenhehurriedawayandIsettoworktodiveintomysuitcasesformyeveningclothes.TheCarslakesweren’twell-off;theyclungontotheiroldhome,buttherewerenomenservantstounpackforyouorvaletyou.
Well,I’djustgottothestageoftyingmytie.Iwasstandinginfrontoftheglass.Icouldseemyownfaceandshouldersandbehindthemthewalloftheroom—aplainstretchofwalljustbrokeninthemiddlebyadoor—andjustasIfinallysettledmytieInoticedthatthedoorwasopening.
Idon’tknowwhyIdidn’tturnaround—Ithinkthatwouldhavebeenthenaturalthingtodo;anyway,Ididn’t.Ijustwatchedthedoorswingslowlyopen—andasitswungIsawintotheroombeyond.
Itwasabedroom—alargerroomthanmine—withtwobedsteadsinit,andsuddenlyIcaughtmybreath.
Foratthefootofoneofthosebedswasagirlandroundherneckwereapairofman’shandsandthemanwasslowlyforcingherbackwardsandsqueezingherthroatashedidso,sothatthegirlwasbeingslowlysuffocated.
Therewasn’ttheleastpossibilityofamistake.WhatIsawwasperfectlyclear.Whatwasbeingdonewasmurder.
Icouldseethegirl’sfaceclearly,hervividgoldenhair,theagonizedterrorofherbeautifulface,slowlysuffusingwithblood.OfthemanIcouldseehisback,hishands,andascarthatrandowntheleftsideofhisfacetowardshisneck.
It’stakensometimetotell,butinrealityonlyamomentortwopassedwhileIstareddumbfounded.ThenIwheeledroundtotherescue….
Andonthewallbehindme,thewallreflectedintheglass,therewasonlyaVictorianmahoganywardrobe.Nodooropen—nosceneofviolence.Iswungbacktothemirror.Themirrorreflectedonlythewardrobe….
Ipassedmyhandsacrossmyeyes.ThenIsprangacrosstheroomandtriedtopullforwardthewardrobeandatthatmomentNeilenteredbytheotherdoorfromthepassageandaskedmewhatthehellIwastryingtodo.
HemusthavethoughtmeslightlybarmyasIturnedonhimanddemandedwhethertherewasadoorbehindthewardrobe.Hesaid,yes,therewasadoor,itledintothenextroom.IaskedhimwhowasoccupyingthenextroomandhesaidpeoplecalledOldham—aMajorOldhamandhiswife.IaskedhimthenifMrs.OldhamhadveryfairhairandwhenhereplieddrylythatshewasdarkIbegantorealizethatIwasprobablymakingafoolofmyself.Ipulledmyselftogether,madesomelameexplanationandwewentdownstairstogether.ItoldmyselfthatImusthavehadsomekindofhallucination—andfeltgenerallyratherashamedandabitofanass.
Andthen—andthen—Neilsaid,‘MysisterSylvia,’andIwaslookingintothelovelyfaceofthegirlIhadjustseenbeingsuffocatedtodeath…andIwasintroducedtoherfiancé,atalldarkmanwithascardowntheleftsideofhisface.
Well—that’sthat.I’dlikeyoutothinkandsaywhatyou’dhavedoneinmyplace.Herewasthegirl—theidenticalgirl—andherewasthemanI’dseenthrottlingher—andtheyweretobemarriedinaboutamonth’stime….
HadI—orhadInot—hadapropheticvisionofthefuture?WouldSylviaandherhusbandcomedownheretostaysometimeinthefuture,andbegiventhatroom(thebestspareroom)andwouldthatsceneI’dwitnessedtakeplaceingrimreality?
WhatwasItodoaboutit?CouldIdoanything?Wouldanyone—Neil—orthegirlherself—wouldtheybelieveme?
IturnedthewholebusinessoverandoverinmymindtheweekIwasdownthere.Tospeakornottospeak?Andalmostatonceanothercomplicationsetin.Yousee,IfellinlovewithSylviaCarslakethefirstmomentIsawher…Iwantedhermorethananythingonearth…Andinawaythattiedmyhands.
Andyet,ifIdidn’tsayanything,SylviawouldmarryCharlesCrawleyandCrawleywouldkillher….
Andso,thedaybeforeIleft,Iblurteditallouttoher.IsaidIexpectshe’dthinkmetouchedintheintellectorsomething,butIsworesolemnlythatI’dseenthethingjustasItoldittoherandthatIfeltifshewasdeterminedtomarryCrawley,Ioughttotellhermystrangeexperience.
Shelistenedveryquietly.TherewassomethinginhereyesIdidn’tunderstand.Shewasn’tangryatall.WhenI’dfinished,shejustthankedmegravely.Ikeptrepeatinglikeanidiot,‘Ididseeit.Ireallydidseeit,’andshesaid,‘I’msureyoudidifyousayso.Ibelieveyou.’
Well,theupshotwasthatIwentoffnotknowingwhetherI’ddonerightorbeenafool,andaweeklaterSylviabrokeoffherengagementtoCharlesCrawley
Afterthatthewarhappened,andtherewasn’tmuchleisureforthinkingofanythingelse.OnceortwicewhenIwasonleave,IcameacrossSylvia,butasfaraspossibleIavoidedher.
Ilovedherandwantedherjustasbadlyasever,butIfeltsomehowthatitwouldn’tbeplayingthegame.Itwasowingtomethatshe’dbrokenoffherengagementtoCrawley,andIkeptsayingtomyselfthatIcouldonlyjustifytheactionIhadtakenbymakingmyattitudeapurelydisinterestedone.
Then,in1916,NeilwaskilledanditfelltometotellSylviaabouthislastmoments.Wecouldn’tremainonformalfootingafterthat.SylviahadadoredNeilandhehadbeenmybestfriend.Shewassweet—adorablysweetinhergrief.Ijustmanagedtoholdmytongueandwentoutagainprayingthatabulletmightendthewholemiserablebusiness.LifewithoutSylviawasn’tworthliving.
Buttherewasnobulletwithmynameonit.Onenearlygotmebelowtherightearandonewasdeflectedbyacigarettecaseinmypocket,butIcamethroughunscathed.CharlesCrawleywaskilledinactionatthebeginningof1918.
Somehowthatmadeadifference.Icamehomeintheautumnof1918justbeforetheArmisticeandIwentstraighttoSylviaandtoldherthatIlovedher.Ihadn’tmuchhopethatshe’dcareformestraightaway,andyoucouldhaveknockedmedownwithafeatherwhensheaskedmewhyIhadn’ttoldhersooner.IstammeredoutsomethingaboutCrawleyandshesaid,‘ButwhydidyouthinkIbrokeitoffwithhim?’andthenshetoldmethatshe’dfalleninlovewithmejustasI’ddonewithher—fromtheveryfirstminute.
IsaidIthoughtshe’dbrokenoffherengagementbecauseofthestoryItoldherandshelaughedscornfullyandsaidthatifyoulovedamanyouwouldn’tbeascowardlyasthat,andwewentoverthatoldvisionofmineagainandagreedthatitwasqueer,butnothingmore
Well,there’snothingmuchtotellforsometimeafterthat.SylviaandIweremarriedandwewereveryhappy.ButIrealized,assoonasshewasreallymine,thatIwasn’tcutoutforthebestkindofhusband.IlovedSylviadevotedly,butIwasjealous,absurdlyjealousofanyoneshesomuchassmiledat.Itamusedheratfirst,Ithinksheeven
Asforme,IrealizedquitefullyandunmistakablythatIwasnotonlymakingafoolofmyself,butthatIwasendangeringallthepeaceandhappinessofourlifetogether.Iknew,Isay,butIcouldn’tchange.EverytimeSylviagotalettershedidn’tshowtomeIwonderedwhoitwasfrom.Ifshelaughedandtalkedwithanyman,Ifoundmyselfgettingsulkyandwatchful.
Atfirst,asIsay,Sylvialaughedatme.Shethoughtitahugejoke.Thenshedidn’tthinkthejokesofunny.Finallyshedidn’tthinkitajokeatall—
Andslowly,shebegantodrawawayfromme.Notinanyphysicalsense,butshewithdrewhersecretmindfromme.Inolongerknewwhatherthoughtswere.Shewaskind—butsadly,asthoughfromalongdistance.
LittlebylittleIrealizedthatshenolongerlovedme.HerlovehaddiedanditwasIwhohadkilledit….
Thenextstepwasinevitable,Ifoundmyselfwaitingforit—dreadingit…
ThenDerekWainwrightcameintoourlives.HehadeverythingthatIhadn’t.Hehadbrainsandawittytongue.Hewasgood-looking,too,and—I’mforcedtoadmitit—athoroughlygoodchap.AssoonasIsawhimIsaidtomyself,‘ThisisjustthemanforSylvia….’
Shefoughtagainstit.Iknowshestruggled…butIgavehernohelp.Icouldn’t.Iwasentrenchedinmygloomy,sullenreserve.Iwassufferinglikehell—andIcouldn’tstretchoutafingertosavemyself.Ididn’thelpher.Imadethingsworse.Iletlooseatheroneday—astringofsavage,unwarrantedabuse.Iwasnearlymadwithjealousyandmisery.ThethingsIsaidwerecruelanduntrueandIknewwhileIwassayingthemhowcruelandhowuntruetheywere.AndyetItookasavagepleasureinsayingthem….
IrememberhowSylviaflushedandshrank….
Idrovehertotheedgeofendurance.
Iremembershesaid,“Thiscan’tgoon….”
WhenIcamehomethatnightthehousewasempty—empty.Therewasanote—quiteinthetraditionalfashion.
Initshesaidthatshewasleavingme—forgood.ShewasgoingdowntoBadgeworthyforadayortwo.Afterthatshewasgoingtotheonepersonwholovedherandneededher.Iwastotakethatasfinal.
IsupposethatuptothenIhadn’treallybelievedmyownsuspicions.Thisconfirmationinblackandwhiteofmyworstfearssentmeravingmad.IwentdowntoBadgeworthyafterherasfastasthecarwouldtakeme.
Shehadjustchangedherfrockfordinner,Iremember,whenIburstintotheroom.Icanseeherface—startled—beautiful—afraid.
Isaid,‘Noonebutmeshalleverhaveyou.Noone.’
AndIcaughtherthroatinmyhandsandgrippeditandbentherbackwards.
SuddenlyIsawourreflectioninthemirror.Sylviachokingandmyselfstranglingher,andthescaronmycheekwherethebulletgrazeditundertherightear.
No—Ididn’tkillher.ThatsuddenrevelationparalyzedmeandIloosenedmygraspandletherslipontothefloor.
AndthenIbrokedown—andshecomfortedme…Yes,shecomfortedme.
Itoldhereverythingandshetoldmethatbythephrase‘theonepersonwholovedandneededher’shehadmeantherbrotherAlan…Wesawintoeachother’sheartsthatnight,andIdon’tthink,fromthatmoment,thatweeverdriftedawayfromeachotheragain.
It’sasoberingthoughttogothroughlifewith—that,butforthegraceofGodandamirror,onemightbeamurderer….
Onethingdiddiethatnight—thedevilofjealousythathadpossessedmesolong….
ButIwondersometimes—supposeIhadn’tmadethatinitialmistake—thescarontheleftcheek—whenreallyitwastheright—reversedbythemirror…ShouldIhavebeensosurethemanwasCharlesCrawley?WouldIhavewarnedSylvia?Wouldshebemarriedtome—ortohim?
Orarethepastandthefutureallone?
I’masimplefellow—andIcan’tpretendtounderstandthesethings—butIsawwhatIsaw—andbecauseofwhatIsaw,SylviaandIaretogetherintheold-fashionedwords—tilldeathdouspart.Andperhapsbeyond….”
Nine
PROBLEMATSEA
“ProblematSea”wasfirstpublishedintheUSAinThisWeek,12January1936,thenas“PoirotandtheCrimeinCabin66”inTheStrand,February1936.
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.Hedrewhimselfbackintothesmokingroomwiththesameexaggeratedcarewithwhichatortoisewithdrawsitselfintoitsshell.Forthemomenthehadthesmokingroomtohimself,thoughherightlyconjecturedthatthatwouldnotlastlong.
Itdidnot.Mrs.Clapperton,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,”saidMrs.Clapperton.“Isayluckily,because,withmyweakheart,seasicknesswouldprobablybethedeathofme.”
“Youhavetheweakheart,madame?”
“Yes,Ihavetobemostcareful.Imustnotovertiremyself!Allthespecialistssayso!”Mrs.Clappertonhadembarkedonthe—toher—everfascinatingtopicofherhealth.“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.
Mrs.Clappertongaveagirlishlaugh.
“EveryonetellsmehowyoungIam!It’sabsurd.InevertrytopretendI’madaylessthanforty-three,”shecontinuedwithslightlymendaciouscandour,“butalotofpeoplefindithardtobelieve.‘You’resoalive,Adeline,’theysaytome.Butreally,M.Poirot,whatwouldonebeifonewasn’talive?”
“Dead,”saidPoirot.
Mrs.Clappertonfrowned.Thereplywasnottoherliking.Theman,shedecided,wastryingtobefunny.Shegotupandsaidcoldly:“ImustfindJohn.”
Asshesteppedthroughthedoorshedroppedherhandbag.Itopenedandthecontentsflewfarandwide.Poirotrushedgallantlytotherescue.Itwassomefewminutesbeforethelipsticks,vanityboxes,cigarettecaseandlighterandotheroddsandendswerecollected.Mrs.Clappertonthankedhimpolitely,thenshesweptdownthedeckandsaid,“John—”
ColonelClappertonwasstilldeepinconversationwithMissHenderson.Heswungroundandcamequicklytomeethiswife.Hebentoverherprotectively.Herdeckchair—wasitintherightplace?Wouldn’titbebetter—?Hismannerwascourteous—fullofgentleconsideration.Clearlyanadoredwifespoiltbyanadoringhusband.
MissEllieHendersonlookedoutatthehorizonasthoughsomethingaboutitratherdisgustedher.
Standinginthesmokingroomdoor,Poirotlookedon.
Ahoarsequaveringvoicebehindhimsaid:“I’dtakeahatchettothatwomanifIwereherhusband.”TheoldgentlemanknowndisrespectfullyamongtheyoungersetonboardastheGrandfatherofAlltheTeaPlanters,hadjustshuffledin.“Boy!”hecalled.“Getmeawhiskypeg.”
Poirotstoopedtoretrieveatornscrapofnotepaper,anoverlookeditemfromthecontentsofMrs.Clapperton’sbag.Partofaprescription,henoted,containingdigitalin.Heputitinhispocket,meaningtorestoreittoMrs.Clappertonlater.
“Yes,”wentontheagedpassenger.“Poisonouswoman.IrememberawomanlikethatinPoona.In’87thatwas.”
“Didanyonetakeahatchettoher?”inquiredPoirot.
Theoldgentlemanshookhisheadsadly.
“Worriedherhusbandintohisgravewithintheyear.Clappertonoughttoasserthimself.Giveshiswifeherheadtoomuch.”
“Sheholdsthepursestrings,”saidPoirotgravely.
“Ha,ha!”chuckledtheoldgentleman.“You’veputthematterinanutshell.Holdsthepursestrings.Ha,ha!”
Twogirlsburstintothesmokingroom.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….”
ThattherescueofColonelClappertonwasnoisolatedsally,butafixedproject,wasmadeclearthatsameeveningwhentheeighteen-year-oldPamCregancameuptoHerculePoirot,andmurmured:“Watchus,M.Poirot.He’sgoingtobecutoutfromunderhernoseandtakentowalkinthemoonlightontheboatdeck.”
ItwasjustatthatmomentthatColonelClappertonwassaying:“IgrantyouthepriceofaRolls-Royce.Butit’spracticallygoodforalifetime.Nowmycar—”
“Mycar,Ithink,John.”Mrs.Clapperton’svoicewasshrillandpenetrating.
Heshowednoannoyanceatherungraciousness.Eitherhewasusedtoitbythistime,orelse—
“Orelse?”thoughtPoirotandlethimselfspeculate.
“Certainly,mydear,yourcar,”Clappertonbowedtohiswifeandfinishedwhathehadbeensaying,perfectlyunruffled.
“Voilàcequ’onappellelepukkasahib,”thoughtPoirot.“ButtheGeneralForbessaysthatClappertonisnogentlemanatall.Iwondernow.”
Therewasasuggestionofbridge.Mrs.Clapperton,GeneralForbesandahawk-eyedcouplesatdowntoit.MissHendersonhadexcusedherselfandgoneoutondeck.
“Whataboutyourhusband?”askedGeneralForbes,hesitating.
“Johnwon’tplay,”saidMrs.Clapperton.“Mosttiresomeofhim.”
Thefourbridgeplayersbeganshufflingthecards.
PamandKittyadvancedonColonelClapperton.Eachonetookanarm.
“You’recomingwithus!”saidPam.“Totheboatdeck.There’samoon.”
“Don’tbefoolish,John,”saidMrs.Clapperton.“You’llcatchachill.”
“Notwithus,hewon’t,”saidKitty.“We’rehotstuff!”
Hewentwiththem,laughing.
PoirotnoticedthatMrs.ClappertonsaidNoBidtoherinitialbidofTwoClubs.
Hestrolledoutontothepromenadedeck.MissHendersonwasstandingbytherail.Shelookedroundexpectantlyashecametostandbesideherandhesawthedropinherexpression.
Theychattedforawhile.Thenpresentlyashefellsilentsheasked:“Whatareyouthinkingabout?”
Poirotreplied:“IamwonderingaboutmyknowledgeofEnglish.Mrs.Clappertonsaid:‘Johnwon’tplaybridge.’Isnot‘can’tplay’theusualterm?”
“Shetakesitasapersonalinsultthathedoesn’t,Isuppose,”saidElliedrily.“Themanwasafoolevertohavemarriedher.”
InthedarknessPoirotsmiled.“Youdon’tthinkit’sjustpossiblethatthemarriagemaybeasuccess?”heaskeddiffidently.
“Withawomanlikethat?”
Poirotshruggedhisshoulders.“Manyodiouswomenhavedevotedhusbands.Anenigmaofnature.Youwilladmitthatnothingshesaysordoesappearstogallhim.”MissHendersonwasconsideringherreplywhenMrs.Clapperton’svoicefloatedoutthroughthesmokingroomwindow.
“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?Italllookedperfectlyordinary.”
“Thequicknessofthehanddeceivestheeye,”saidPoirotsententiously—andcaughtthesuddenchangeintheColonel’sexpression.
Itwasasthoughherealizedthathehadbeenoffhisguardforamomentortwo.
Poirotsmiled.Theconjurorhadshownhimselfthroughthemaskofthepukkasahib.
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?”
ThesleepyvoiceofMrs.Clappertonfromwithinreplied:“Oh,bother—whatisit?”
“It’sJohn.Whataboutgoingashore?”
“Certainlynot.”Thevoicewasshrillanddecisive.“I’vehadaverybadnight.Ishallstayinbedmostoftheday.”
Pamnippedinquickly.“Oh,Mrs.Clapperton,I’msosorry.Wedidsowantyoutocomewithus.Areyousureyou’renotuptoit?”
“I’mquitecertain.”Mrs.Clapperton’svoicesoundedevenshriller.
TheColonelwasturningthedoorhandlewithoutresult.
“Whatisit,John?Thedoor’slocked.Idon’twanttobedisturbedbythestewards.”
“Sorry,mydear,sorry.JustwantedmyBaedeker.”
“Well,youcan’thaveit,”snappedMrs.Clapperton.“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?”
PoirotexplainedthatMrs.Clappertonwashavingaquietdayinbed.
“Don’tyoubelieveit!”theoldwarriorclosedoneknowingeye.“She’llbeupfortiffin—andifthepoordevil’sfoundtobeabsentwithoutleave,there’llbeructions.”
ButtheGeneral’sprognosticationswerenotfulfilled.Mrs.ClappertondidnotappearatlunchandbythetimetheColonelandhisattendantdamselsreturnedtotheshipatfouro’clock,shehadnotshownherself.
Poirotwasinhiscabinandheardthehusband’sslightlyguiltyknockonhiscabindoor.Heardtheknockrepeated,thecabindoortried,andfinallyheardtheColonel’scalltoasteward.
“Lookhere,Ican’tgetananswer.Haveyouakey?”
Poirotrosequicklyfromhisbunkandcameoutintothepassage.
Thenewswentlikewildfireroundtheship.WithhorrifiedincredulitypeopleheardthatMrs.Clappertonhadbeenfounddeadinherbunk—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.Mrs.Clappertonhadbeendeadatleastfivehourswhenshewasfound.Somemoneyhaddisappeared.Astringofbeadswasonthefloorbyherbed.Thedoorwaslockedandthekeywasmissing.Thewindow—window,notporthole—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.Mrs.Clappertonhadlockedthedoorontheinside.ShehaddonesobeforeColonelClappertonlefttheboatthismorning.Heactuallytriedit—soweknowthatisso.”
“Nonsense.Itprobablystuck—orhedidn’tturnthehandleproperly.”
“Butitdoesnotrestonhisword.WeactuallyheardMrs.Clappertonherselfsayso.”
“We?”
“MissMooney,MissCregan,ColonelClappertonandmyself.”
EllieHendersontappedaneatlyshodfoot.Shedidnotspeakforamomentortwo.Thenshesaidinaslightlyirritabletone:“Well—whatexactlydoyoudeducefromthat?IfMrs.Clappertoncouldlockthedoorshecouldunlockittoo,Isuppose.”
“Precisely,precisely.”Poirotturnedabeamingfaceuponher.“Andyouseewherethatleavesus.Mrs.Clappertonunlockedthedoorandletthemurdererin.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:“IthoughtMrs.ClappertonaveryunpleasantwomanandIdon’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,Mrs.Clappertonhadbeendeadmanyhours.”
Therewasanotherminuteofsilence.EllieHendersonsaidsoftly:“Butyoustillthink—apassengerontheship?”
Poirotbowedhishead.
EllieHendersonlaughedsuddenly—arecklessdefiantlaugh.“Yourtheorymaybedifficulttoprove,M.Poirot.Thereareagoodmanypassengersonthisship.”
Poirotbowedtoher.“Iwilluseaphrasefromoneofyourdetectivestories.‘Ihavemymethods,Watson.’”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,animportantwitnesstothetruthofwhokilledMrs.Clapperton.”Withadefthandhewhiskedawaythelastenvelopingcloth,andtheobjectitconcealedwasrevealed—analmostlife-sizedwoodendoll,dressedinavelvetsuitandlacecollar.
“Now,Arthur,”saidPoirotandhisvoicechangedsubtly—itwasnolongerforeign—ithadinsteadaconfidentEnglish,aslightlyCockneyinflection.“Canyoutellme—Irepeat—canyoutellme—anythingatallaboutthedeathofMrs.Clapperton?”
Thedoll’sneckoscillatedalittle,itswoodenlowerjawdroppedandwaveredandashrillhigh-pitchedwoman’svoicespoke:
“Whatisit,John?Thedoor’slocked.Idon’twanttobedisturbedbythestewards….”
Therewasacry—anoverturnedchair—amanstoodswaying,hishandtohisthroat—tryingtospeak—trying…Thensuddenly,hisfigureseemedtocrumpleup.Hepitchedheadlong.
ItwasColonelClapperton.
Poirotandtheship’sdoctorrosefromtheirkneesbytheprostratefigure.
“Allover,I’mafraid.Heart,”saidthedoctorbriefly.
Poirotnodded.“Theshockofhavinghistrickseenthrough,”hesaid.
HeturnedtoGeneralForbes.“Itwasyou,General,whogavemeavaluablehintwithyourmentionofthemusichallstage.Ipuzzle—Ithink—andthenitcomestome.SupposingthatbeforethewarClappertonwasaventriloquist.Inthatcase,itwouldbeperfectlypossibleforthreepeopletohearMrs.Clappertonspeakfrominsidehercabinwhenshewasalreadydead….”
EllieHendersonwasbesidehim.Hereyesweredarkandfullofpain.“Didyouknowhisheartwasweak?”sheasked.
“Iguessedit…Mrs.Clappertontalkedofherownheartbeingaffected,butshestruckmeasthetypeofwomanwholikestobethoughtill.ThenIpickedupatornprescriptionwithaverystrongdoseofdigitalininit.Digitalinisaheartmedicinebutitcouldn’tbeMrs.Clapperton’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—Mrs.Clapperton’svoice?”
“Oneofthestewardesseshadavoicenotunlikehers.Iinducedhertohidebehindthestageandtaughtherthewordstosay.”
“Itwasatrick—acrueltrick,”criedoutEllie.
“Idonotapproveofmurder,”saidHerculePoirot.
AbouttheAuthor
AgathaChristieisthemostwidelypublishedauthorofalltimeandinanylanguage,outsoldonlybytheBibleandShakespeare.HerbookshavesoldmorethanabillioncopiesinEnglishandanotherbillioninahundredforeignlanguages.Sheistheauthorofeightycrimenovelsandshort-storycollections,nineteenplays,twomemoirs,andsixnovelswrittenunderthenameMaryWestmacott.
ShefirsttriedherhandatdetectivefictionwhileworkinginahospitaldispensaryduringWorldWarI,creatingthenowlegendaryHerculePoirotwithherdebutnovelTheMysteriousAffairatStyles.WithTheMurderintheVicarage,publishedin1930,sheintroducedanotherbelovedsleuth,MissJaneMarple.Additionalseriescharactersincludethehusband-and-wifecrime-fightingteamofTommyandTuppenceBeresford,privateinvestigatorParkerPyne,andScotlandYarddetectivesSuperintendentBattleandInspectorJapp.
ManyofChristie’snovelsandshortstorieswereadaptedintoplays,films,andtelevisionseries.TheMousetrap,hermostfamousplayofall,openedin1952andisthelongest-runningplayinhistory.Amongherbest-knownfilmadaptationsareMurderontheOrientExpress(1974)andDeathontheNile(1978),withAlbertFinneyandPeterUstinovplayingHerculePoirot,respectively.OnthesmallscreenPoirothasbeenmostmemorablyportrayedbyDavidSuchet,andMissMarplebyJoanHicksonandsubsequentlyGeraldineMcEwanandJuliaMcKenzie.
ChristiewasfirstmarriedtoArchibaldChristieandthentoarchaeologistSirMaxMallowan,whomsheaccompaniedonexpeditionstocountriesthatwouldalsoserveasthesettingsformanyofhernovels.In1971sheachievedoneofBritain’shighesthonorswhenshewasmadeaDameoftheBritishEmpire.Shediedin1976attheageofeighty-five.Heronehundredandtwentiethanniversarywascelebratedaroundtheworldin2010.
Visitwww.AuthorTracker.comforexclusiveinformationonyourfavoriteHarperCollinsauthors.
www.AgathaChristie.com
THEAGATHACHRISTIECOLLECTION
TheManintheBrownSuit
TheSecretofChimneys
TheSevenDialsMystery
TheMysteriousMr.Quin
TheSittafordMystery
ParkerPyneInvestigates
WhyDidn’tTheyAskEvans?
MurderIsEasy
TheRegattaMysteryandOtherStories
AndThenThereWereNone
TowardsZero
DeathComesastheEnd
SparklingCyanide
TheWitnessfortheProsecutionandOtherStories
CrookedHouse
ThreeBlindMiceandOtherStories
TheyCametoBaghdad
DestinationUnknown
OrdealbyInnocence
DoubleSinandOtherStories
ThePaleHorse
StaroverBethlehem:PoemsandHolidayStories
EndlessNight
PassengertoFrankfurt
TheGoldenBallandOtherStories
TheMousetrapandOtherPlays
TheHarlequinTeaSetandOtherStories
TheHerculePoirotMysteries
TheMysteriousAffairatStyles
TheMurderontheLinks
PoirotInvestigates
TheMurderofRogerAckroyd
TheBigFour
TheMysteryoftheBlueTrain
PerilatEndHouse
LordEdgwareDies
MurderontheOrientExpress
ThreeActTragedy
DeathintheClouds
TheA.B.C.Murders
MurderinMesopotamia
CardsontheTable
MurderintheMews
DumbWitness
DeathontheNile
AppointmentwithDeath
HerculePoirot’sChristmas
SadCypress
One,Two,BuckleMyShoe
EvilUndertheSun
FiveLittlePigs
TheHollow
TheLaborsofHercules
TakenattheFlood
TheUnderDogandOtherStories
Mrs.McGinty’sDead
AftertheFuneral
HickoryDickoryDock
DeadMan’sFolly
CatAmongthePigeons
TheClocks
ThirdGirl
Hallowe’enParty
ElephantsCanRemember
Curtain:Poirot’sLastCase
TheMissMarpleMysteries
TheMurderattheVicarage
TheBodyintheLibrary
TheMovingFinger
AMurderIsAnnounced
TheyDoItwithMirrors
APocketFullofRye
4:50fromPaddington
TheMirrorCrack’dfromSidetoSide
ACaribbeanMystery
AtBertram’sHotel
Nemesis
SleepingMurder
MissMarple:TheCompleteShortStories
TheTommyandTuppenceMysteries
TheSecretAdversary
PartnersinCrime
NorM?
BythePrickingofMyThumbs
PosternofFate
Memoirs