The Under Dog and Other Stories

TheUnderDogandOtherStories
AHerculePoirotCollection
Contents
Cover
TitlePage
1TheUnderDog
2ThePlymouthExpress
3TheAffairattheVictoryBall
4TheMarketBasingMystery
5TheLemesurierInheritance
6TheCornishMystery
7TheKingofClubs
8TheSubmarinePlans
9TheAdventureoftheClaphamCook
AbouttheAuthor
TheAgathaChristieCollection
RelatedProducts
Copyright
AboutthePublisher
One
THEUNDERDOG
“TheUnderDog”wasfirstpublishedintheUSAinMysteryMagazine,1April1926,theninLondonMagazine,October1926.
LilyMargravesmoothedherglovesoutonherkneewithanervousgesture,anddartedaglanceattheoccupantofthebigchairoppositeher.
ShehadheardofM.HerculePoirot,thewell-knowninvestigator,butthiswasthefirsttimeshehadseenhimintheflesh.
Thecomic,almostridiculous,aspectthathepresenteddisturbedherconceptionofhim.Couldthisfunnylittleman,withtheegg-shapedheadandtheenormousmoustaches,reallydothewonderfulthingsthatwereclaimedforhim?Hisoccupationatthemomentstruckherasparticularlychildish.Hewaspilingsmallblocksofcolouredwoodoneupontheother,andseemedfarmoreinterestedintheresultthaninthestoryshewastelling.
Athersuddensilence,however,helookedsharplyacrossather.
“Mademoiselle,continue,Iprayofyou.ItisnotthatIdonotattend;Iattendverycarefully,Iassureyou.”
Hebeganoncemoretopilethelittleblocksofwoodoneupontheother,whilethegirl’svoicetookupthetaleagain.Itwasagruesometale,ataleofviolenceandtragedy,butthevoicewassocalmandunemotional,therecitalwassoconcisethatsomethingofthesavourofhumanityseemedtohavebeenleftoutofit.
Shestoppedatlast.
“Ihope,”shesaidanxiously,“thatIhavemadeeverythingclear.”
Poirotnoddedhisheadseveraltimesinemphaticassent.Thenheswepthishandacrossthewoodenblocks,scatteringthemoverthetable,and,leaningbackinhischair,hisfingertipspressedtogetherandhiseyesontheceiling,hebegantorecapitulate.
“SirReubenAstwellwasmurderedtendaysago.OnWednesday,thedaybeforeyesterday,hisnephew,CharlesLeverson,wasarrestedbythepolice.Thefactsagainsthimasfarasyouknoware:—youwillcorrectmeifIamwrong,Mademoiselle—SirReubenwassittinguplatewritinginhisownspecialsanctum,theTowerroom.Mr.Leversoncameinlate,lettinghimselfinwithalatch-key.Hewasoverheardquarrellingwithhisunclebythebutler,whoseroomisdirectlybelowtheTowerroom.Thequarrelendedwithasuddenthudasofachairbeingthrownoverandahalf-smotheredcry.
“Thebutlerwasalarmed,andthoughtofgettinguptoseewhatwasthematter,butasafewsecondslaterheheardMr.Leversonleavetheroomgailywhistlingatune,hethoughtnothingmoreofit.Onthefollowingmorning,however,ahousemaiddiscoveredSirReubendeadbyhisdesk.Hehadbeenstruckdownbysomeheavyinstrument.Thebutler,Igather,didnotatoncetellhisstorytothepolice.Thatwasnatural,Ithink,eh,Mademoiselle?”
ThesuddenquestionmadeLilyMargravestart.
“Ibegyourpardon?”shesaid.
“Onelooksforhumanityinthesematters,doesonenot?”saidthelittleman.“Asyourecitedthestorytome—soadmirably,soconcisely—youmadeoftheactorsinthedramamachines—puppets.Butme,Ilookalwaysforhumannature.Isaytomyself,thisbutler,this—whatdidyousayhisnamewas?”
“HisnameisParsons.”
“ThisParsons,then,hewillhavethecharacteristicsofhisclass,hewillobjectverystronglytothepolice,hewilltellthemaslittleaspossible.Aboveall,hewillsaynothingthatmightseemtoincriminateamemberofthehousehold.Ahouse-breaker,aburglar,hewillclingtothatideawithallthestrengthofextremeobstinacy.Yes,theloyaltiesoftheservantclassareaninterestingstudy.”
Heleanedbackbeaming.
“Inthemeantime,”hewenton,“everyoneinthehouseholdhastoldhisorhertale,Mr.Leversonamongtherest,andhistalewasthathehadcomeinlateandgoneuptobedwithoutseeinghisuncle.”
“Thatiswhathesaid.”
“Andnoonesawreasontodoubtthattale,”musedPoirot,“except,ofcourse,Parsons.ThentherecomesdownaninspectorfromScotlandYard,InspectorMilleryousaid,didyounot?Iknowhim,Ihavecomeacrosshimonceortwiceinthepast.Heiswhattheycallthesharpman,theferret,theweasel.
“Yes,Iknowhim!AndthesharpInspectorMiller,heseeswhatthelocalinspectorhasnotseen,thatParsonsisillateaseanduncomfortable,andknowssomethingthathehasnottold.Ehbien,hemakesshortworkofParsons.Bynowithasbeenclearlyprovedthatnoonebrokeintothehousethatnight,thatthemurderermustbelookedforinsidethehouseandnotoutside.AndParsonsisunhappyandfrightened,andfeelsveryrelievedtohavehissecretknowledgedrawnoutofhim.
“Hehasdonehisbesttoavoidscandal,buttherearelimits;andsoInspectorMillerlistenstoParsons’story,andasksaquestionortwo,andthenmakessomeprivateinvestigationsofhisown.Thecasehebuildsupisverystrong—verystrong.
“Blood-stainedfingersrestedonthecornerofthechestintheTowerroom,andthefingerprintswerethoseofCharlesLeverson.ThehousemaidtoldhimsheemptiedabasinofbloodstainedwaterinMr.Leverson’sroomthemorningafterthecrime.Heexplainedtoherthathehadcuthisfinger,andhehadalittlecutthere,ohyes,butsuchaverylittlecut!Thecuffofhiseveningshirthadbeenwashed,buttheyfoundbloodstainsinthesleeveofhiscoat.Hewashardpressedformoney,andheinheritedmoneyatSirReuben’sdeath.Oh,yes,averystrongcase,Mademoiselle.”Hepaused.
“Andyetyoucometometoday.”
LilyMargraveshruggedherslendershoulders.
“AsItoldyou,M.Poirot,LadyAstwellsentme.”
“Youwouldnothavecomeofyourownaccord,eh?”
Thelittlemanglancedathershrewdly.Thegirldidnotanswer.
“Youdonotreplytomyquestion.”
LilyMargravebegansmoothingherglovesagain.
“Itisratherdifficultforme,M.Poirot.IhavemyloyaltytoLadyAstwelltoconsider.Strictlyspeaking,Iamonlyherpaidcompanion,butshehastreatedmemoreasthoughIwereadaughteroraniece.Shehasbeenextraordinarilykindand,whateverherfaults,Ishouldnotliketoappeartocriticizeheractions,or—well,toprejudiceyouagainsttakingupthecase.”
“ImpossibletoprejudiceHerculePoirot,celanecefaitpas,”declaredthelittlemancheerily.“IperceivethatyouthinkLadyAstwellhasinherbonnetthebuzzingbee.Comenow,isitnotso?”
“IfImustsay—”
“Speak,Mademoiselle.”
“Ithinkthewholethingissimplysilly.”
“Itstrikesyoulikethat,eh?”
“Idon’twanttosayanythingagainstLadyAstwell—”
“Icomprehend,”murmuredPoirotgently.“Icomprehendperfectly.”Hiseyesinvitedhertogoon.
“Shereallyisaverygoodsort,andfrightfullykind,butsheisn’t—howcanIputit?Sheisn’taneducatedwoman.YouknowshewasanactresswhenSirReubenmarriedher,andshehasallsortsofprejudicesandsuperstitions.Ifshesaysathing,itmustbeso,andshesimplywon’tlistentoreason.Theinspectorwasnotverytactfulwithher,anditputherbackup.ShesaysitisnonsensetosuspectMr.Leversonandjustthesortofstupid,pigheadedmistakethepolicewouldmake,andthat,ofcourse,dearCharlesdidnotdoit.”
“Butshehasnoreasons,eh?”
“Nonewhatever.”
“Ha!Isthatso?Really,now.”
“Itoldher,”saidLily,“thatitwouldbenogoodcomingtoyouwithamerestatementlikethatandnothingtogoon.”
“Youtoldherthat,”saidPoirot,“didyoureally?Thatisinteresting.”
HiseyessweptoverLilyMargraveinaquickcomprehensivesurvey,takinginthedetailsofherneatblacksuit,thetouchofwhiteatherthroatandthesmartlittleblackhat.Hesawtheeleganceofher,theprettyfacewithitsslightlypointedchin,andthedark-blue,long-lashedeyes.Insensiblyhisattitudechanged;hewasinterestednow,notsomuchinthecaseasinthegirlsittingoppositehim.
“LadyAstwellis,Ishouldimagine,Mademoiselle,justatrifleinclinedtobeunbalancedandhysterical?”
LilyMargravenoddedeagerly.
“Thatdescribesherexactly.Sheis,asItoldyou,verykind,butitisimpossibletoarguewithherortomakeherseethingslogically.”
“Possiblyshesuspectssomeoneonherownaccount,”suggestedPoirot,“someonequiteabsurd.”
“Thatisexactlywhatshedoesdo,”criedLily.“ShehastakenagreatdisliketoSirReuben’ssecretary,poorman.Shesayssheknowshedidit,andyetithasbeenprovedquiteconclusivelythatpoorOwenTrefusiscannotpossiblyhavedoneit.”
“Andshehasnoreasons?”
“Ofcoursenot;itisallintuitionwithher.”
LilyMargrave’svoicewasveryscornful.
“Iperceive,Mademoiselle,”saidPoirot,smiling,“thatyoudonotbelieveinintuition?”
“Ithinkitisnonsense,”repliedLily.
Poirotleanedbackinhischair.
“Lesfemmes,”hemurmured,“theyliketothinkthatitisaspecialweaponthatthegoodGodhasgiventhem,andforeveryoncethatitshowsthemthetruth,atleastninetimesitleadsthemastray.”
“Iknow,”saidLily,“butIhavetoldyouwhatLadyAstwellislike.Yousimplycannotarguewithher.”
“Soyou,Mademoiselle,beingwiseanddiscreet,camealongtomeasyouwerebidden,andhavemanagedtoputmeaucourantofthesituation.”
Somethinginthetoneofhisvoicemadethegirllookupsharply.
“Ofcourse,Iknow,”saidLilyapologetically,“howveryvaluableyourtimeis.”
“Youaretooflattering,Mademoiselle,”saidPoirot,“butindeed—yes,itistrue,atthispresenttimeIhavemanycasesofmomentonhand.”
“Iwasafraidthatmightbeso,”saidLily,rising.“IwilltellLadyAstwell—”
ButPoirotdidnotrisealso.Insteadhelaybackinhischairandlookedsteadilyupatthegirl.
“Youareinhastetobegone,Mademoiselle?Sitdownonemorelittlemoment,Iprayofyou.”
Hesawthecolourfloodintoherfaceandebboutagain.Shesatdownoncemoreslowlyandunwillingly.
“Mademoiselleisquickanddecisive,”saidPoirot.“Shemustmakeallowancesforanoldmanlikemyself,whocomestohisdecisionsslowly.Youmistookme,Mademoiselle.IdidnotsaythatIwouldnotgodowntoLadyAstwell.”
“Youwillcome,then?”
Thegirl’stonewasflat.ShedidnotlookatPoirot,butdownattheground,andsowasunawareofthekeenscrutinywithwhichheregardedher.
“TellLadyAstwell,Mademoiselle,thatIamentirelyatherservice.Iwillbeat—MonRepos,isitnot?—thisafternoon.”
Herose.Thegirlfollowedsuit.
“I—Iwilltellher.Itisverygoodofyoutocome,M.Poirot.Iamafraid,though,youwillfindyouhavebeenbroughtonawildgoosechase.”
“Verylikely,but—whoknows?”
Hesawheroutwithpunctiliouscourtesytothedoor.Thenhereturnedtothesittingroom,frowning,deepinthought.Onceortwicehenoddedhishead,thenheopenedthedoorandcalledtohisvalet.
“MygoodGeorge,prepareme,Iprayofyou,alittlevalise.Igodowntothecountrythisafternoon.”
“Verygood,sir,”saidGeorge.
HewasanextremelyEnglish-lookingperson.Tall,cadaverousandunemotional.
“Ayounggirlisaveryinterestingphenomenon,George,”saidPoirot,ashedroppedoncemoreintohisarmchairandlightedatinycigarette.“Especially,youunderstand,whenshehasbrains.Toasksomeonetodoathingandatthesametimetoputthemagainstdoingit,thatisadelicateoperation.Itrequiresfinesse.Shewasveryadroit—oh,veryadroit—butHerculePoirot,mygoodGeorge,isofaclevernessquiteexceptional.”
“Ihaveheardyousayso,sir.”
“Itisnotthesecretaryshehasinmind,”musedPoirot.“LadyAstwell’saccusationofhimshetreatswithcontempt.Justthesamesheisanxiousthatnooneshoulddisturbthesleepingdogs.I,mygoodGeorge,Igotodisturbthem,Igotomakethedogfight!Thereisadramathere,atMonRepos.Ahumandrama,anditexcitesme.Shewasadroit,thelittleone,butnotadroitenough.Iwonder—IwonderwhatIshallfindthere?”
IntothedramaticpausewhichsucceededthesewordsGeorge’svoicebrokeapologetically:
“ShallIpackdressclothes,sir?”
Poirotlookedathimsadly.
“Alwaystheconcentration,theattentiontoyourownjob.Youareverygoodforme,George.”
Whenthe4:55drewupatAbbotsCrossstation,theredescendedfromitM.HerculePoirot,veryneatlyandfoppishlyattired,hismoustacheswaxedtoastiffpoint.Hegaveuphisticket,passedthroughthebarrier,andwasaccostedbyatallchauffeur.
“M.Poirot?”
Thelittlemanbeameduponhim.
“Thatismyname.”
“Thisway,sir,ifyouplease.”
HeheldopenthedoorofthebigRolls-Royce.
Thehousewasabarethreeminutesfromthestation.Thechauffeurdescendedoncemoreandopenedthedoorofthecar,andPoirotsteppedout.Thebutlerwasalreadyholdingthefrontdooropen.
Poirotgavetheoutsideofthehouseaswiftappraisingglancebeforepassingthroughtheopendoor.Itwasabig,solidlybuiltred-brickmansion,withnopretensionstobeauty,butwithanairofsolidcomfort.
Poirotsteppedintothehall.Thebutlerrelievedhimdeftlyofhishatandovercoat,thenmurmuredwiththatdeferentialundertoneonlytobeachievedbythebestservants:
“Herladyshipisexpectingyou,sir.”
Poirotfollowedthebutlerupthesoft-carpetedstairs.This,withoutdoubt,wasParsons,averywell-trainedservant,withamannersuitablydevoidofemotion.Atthetopofthestaircaseheturnedtotherightalongacorridor.Hepassedthroughadoorintoalittleanteroom,fromwhichtwomoredoorsled.Hethrewopentheleft-handoneofthese,andannounced:
“M.Poirot,m’lady.”
Theroomwasnotaverylargeone,anditwascrowdedwithfurnitureandknickknacks.Awoman,dressedinblack,gotupfromasofaandcamequicklytowardsPoirot.
“M.Poirot,”shesaidwithoutstretchedhand.Hereyeranrapidlyoverthedandifiedfigure.Shepausedaminute,ignoringthelittleman’sbowoverherhand,andhismurmured“Madame,”andthen,releasinghishandafterasuddenvigorouspressure,sheexclaimed:
“Ibelieveinsmallmen!Theyarethecleverones.”
“InspectorMiller,”murmuredPoirot,“is,Ithink,atallman?”
“Heisabumptiousidiot,”saidLadyAstwell.“Sitdownherebyme,willyou,M.Poirot?”
Sheindicatedthesofaandwenton:
“Lilydidherbesttoputmeoffsendingforyou,butIhavenotcometomytimeoflifewithoutknowingmyownmind.”
“Arareaccomplishment,”saidPoirot,ashefollowedhertothesettee.
LadyAstwellsettledherselfcomfortablyamongthecushionsandturnedsoastofacehim.
“Lilyisadeargirl,”saidLadyAstwell,“butshethinkssheknowseverything,andasoftenasnotinmyexperiencethosesortofpeoplearewrong.Iamnotclever,M.Poirot,Ineverhavebeen,butIamrightwheremanyamorestupidpersoniswrong.Ibelieveinguidance.Nowdoyouwantmetotellyouwhoisthemurderer,ordoyounot?Awomanknows,M.Poirot.”
“DoesMissMargraveknow?”
“Whatdidshetellyou?”askedLadyAstwellsharply.
“Shegavemethefactsofthecase.”
“Thefacts?Oh,ofcoursetheyaredeadagainstCharles,butItellyou,M.Poirot,hedidn’tdoit.Iknowhedidn’t!”Shebentuponhimanearnestnessthatwasalmostdisconcerting.
“Youareverypositive,LadyAstwell?”
“Trefusiskilledmyhusband,M.Poirot.Iamsureofit.”
“Why?”
“Whyshouldhekillhim,doyoumean,orwhyamIsure?ItellyouIknowit!Iamfunnyaboutthosethings.Imakeupmymindatonce,andIsticktoit.”
“DidMr.TrefusisbenefitinanywaybySirReuben’sdeath?”
“Neverlefthimapenny,”returnedLadyAstwellpromptly.“NowthatshowsyoudearReubencouldn’thavelikedortrustedhim.”
“HadhebeenwithSirReubenlong,then?”
“Closeonnineyears.”
“Thatisalongtime,”saidPoirotsoftly,“averylongtimetoremainintheemploymentofoneman.Yes,Mr.Trefusis,hemusthaveknownhisemployerwell.”
LadyAstwellstaredathim.
“Whatareyoudrivingat?Idon’tseewhatthathastodowithit.”
“Iwasfollowingoutalittleideaofmyown,”saidPoirot.“Alittleidea,notinteresting,perhaps,butoriginal,ontheeffectsofservice.”
LadyAstwellstillstared.
“Youareveryclever,aren’tyou?”shesaidinratheradoubtfultone.“Everybodysaysso.”
HerculePoirotlaughed.
“Perhapsyoushallpaymethatcompliment,too,Madame,oneofthesedays.Butletusreturntothemotive.Tellmenowofyourhousehold,ofthepeoplewhowerehereinthehouseonthedayofthetragedy.”
“TherewasCharles,ofcourse.”
“Hewasyourhusband’snephew,Iunderstand,notyours.”
“Yes,CharleswastheonlysonofReuben’ssister.Shemarriedacomparativelyrichman,butoneofthosecrashescame—theydo,inthecity—andhedied,andhiswife,too,andCharlescametolivewithus.Hewastwenty-threeatthetime,andgoingtobeabarrister.Butwhenthetroublecame,Reubentookhimintohisoffice.”
“Hewasindustrious,M.Charles?”
“Ilikeamanwhoisquickontheuptake,”saidLadyAstwellwithanodofapproval.“No,that’sjustthetrouble,Charleswasnotindustrious.Hewasalwayshavingrowswithhisuncleoversomemuddleorotherthathehadmade.NotthatpoorReubenwasaneasymantogetonwith.Many’sthetimeI’vetoldhimhehadforgottenwhatitwastobeyounghimself.Hewasverydifferentinthosedays,M.Poirot.”
LadyAstwellheavedasighofreminiscence.
“Changesmustcome,Madame,”saidPoirot.“Itisthelaw.”
“Still,”saidLadyAstwell,“hewasneverreallyrudetome.Atleastifhewas,hewasalwayssorryafterwards—poordearReuben.”
“Hewasdifficult,eh?”saidPoirot.
“Icouldalwaysmanagehim,”saidLadyAstwellwiththeairofasuccessfulliontamer.“Butitwasratherawkwardsometimeswhenhewouldlosehistemperwiththeservants.Therearewaysofdoingthat,andReuben’swasnottherightway.”
“HowexactlydidSirReubenleavehismoney,LadyAstwell?”
“HalftomeandhalftoCharles,”repliedLadyAstwellpromptly.“Thelawyersdon’tputitsimplylikethat,butthat’swhatitamountsto.”
Poirotnoddedhishead.
“Isee—Isee,”hemurmured.“Now,LadyAstwell,Iwilldemandofyouthatyouwilldescribetomethehousehold.Therewasyourself,andSirReuben’snephew,Mr.CharlesLeverson,andthesecretary,Mr.OwenTrefusis,andtherewasMissLilyMargrave.Perhapsyouwilltellmesomethingofthatyounglady.”
“YouwanttoknowaboutLily?”
“Yes,shehadbeenwithyoulong?”
“Aboutayear.Ihavehadalotofsecretary-companionsyouknow,butsomehoworothertheyallgotonmynerves.Lilywasdifferent.Shewastactfulandfullofcommonsenseandbesidesshelookssonice.Idoliketohaveaprettyfaceaboutme,M.Poirot.Iamafunnykindofperson;Itakelikesanddislikesstraightaway.AssoonasIsawthatgirl,Isaidtomyself:‘She’lldo.’”
“Didshecometoyouthroughfriends,LadyAstwell?”
“Ithinksheansweredanadvertisement.Yes—thatwasit.”
“Youknowsomethingofherpeople,ofwhereshecomesfrom?”
“HerfatherandmotherareoutinIndia,Ibelieve.Idon’treallyknowmuchaboutthem,butyoucanseeataglancethatLilyisalady,can’tyou,M.Poirot?”
“Oh,perfectly,perfectly.”
“Ofcourse,”wentonLadyAstwell,“Iamnotaladymyself.Iknowit,andtheservantsknowit,butthereisnothingmean-spiritedaboutme.IcanappreciatetherealthingwhenIseeit,andnoonecouldbenicerthanLilyhasbeentome.Ilookuponthatgirlalmostasadaughter,M.Poirot,indeedIdo.”
Poirot’srighthandstrayedoutandstraightenedoneortwooftheobjectslyingonatablenearhim.
“DidSirReubensharethisfeeling?”heasked.
Hiseyeswereontheknickknacks,butdoubtlesshenotedthepausebeforeLadyAstwell’sanswercame.
“Withamanit’sdifferent.Ofcoursethey—theygotonverywell.”
“Thankyou,Madame,”saidPoirot.Hewassmilingtohimself.
“Andtheseweretheonlypeopleinthehousethatnight?”heasked.“Excepting,ofcourse,theservants.”
“Oh,therewasVictor.”
“Victor?”
“Yes,myhusband’sbrother,youknow,andhispartner.”
“Helivedwithyou?”
“No,hehadjustarrivedonavisit.HehasbeenoutinWestAfricaforthepastfewyears.”
“WestAfrica,”murmuredPoirot.
HehadlearnedthatLadyAstwellcouldbetrustedtodevelopasubjectherselfifsufficienttimewasgivenher.
“Theysayit’sawonderfulcountry,butIthinkit’sthekindofplacethathasaverybadeffectuponaman.Theydrinktoomuch,andtheygetuncontrolled.NoneoftheAstwellshasagoodtemper,andVictor’s,sincehecamebackfromAfrica,hasbeensimplytooshocking.Hehasfrightenedmeonceortwice.”
“DidhefrightenMissMargrave,Iwonder?”murmuredPoirotgently.
“Lily?Oh,Idon’tthinkhehasseenmuchofLily.”
Poirotmadeanoteortwoinadiminutivenotebook;thenheputthepencilbackinitsloopandreturnedthenotebooktohispocket.
“Ithankyou,LadyAstwell.Iwillnow,ifImay,interviewParsons.”
“Willyouhavehimuphere?”
LadyAstwell’shandmovedtowardsthebell.Poirotarrestedthegesturequickly.
“No,no,athousandtimesno.Iwilldescendtohim.”
“Ifyouthinkitisbetter—”
LadyAstwellwasclearlydisappointedatnotbeingabletoparticipateintheforthcomingscene.Poirotadoptedanairofsecrecy.
“Itisessential,”hesaidmysteriously,andleftLadyAstwelldulyimpressed.
HefoundParsonsinthebutler’spantry,polishingsilver.Poirotopenedtheproceedingswithoneofhisfunnylittlebows.
“Imustexplainmyself,”hesaid.“Iamadetectiveagent.”
“Yes,sir,”saidParsons,“wegatheredasmuch.”
Histonewasrespectfulbutaloof.
“LadyAstwellsentforme,”continuedPoirot.“Sheisnotsatisfied;no,sheisnotsatisfiedatall.”
“Ihaveheardherladyshipsaysoonseveraloccasions,”saidParsons.
“Infact,”saidPoirot,“Irecounttoyouthethingsyoualreadyknow?Eh?Letusthennotwastetimeonthesebagatelles.Takeme,ifyouwillbesogood,toyourbedroomandtellmeexactlywhatitwasyouheardthereonthenightofthemurder.”
Thebutler’sroomwasonthegroundfloor,adjoiningtheservants’hall.Ithadbarredwindows,andthestrong-roomwasinonecornerofit.Parsonsindicatedthenarrowbed.
“Ihadretired,sir,ateleveno’clock.MissMargravehadgonetobed,andLadyAstwellwaswithSirReubenintheTowerroom.”
“LadyAstwellwaswithSirReuben?Ah,proceed.”
“TheTowerroom,sir,isdirectlyoverthis.Ifpeoplearetalkinginitonecanhearthemurmurofvoices,butnaturallynotanythingthatissaid.Imusthavefallenasleepabouthalfpasteleven.Itwasjusttwelveo’clockwhenIwasawakenedbythesoundofthefrontdoorbeingslammedtoandknewMr.Leversonhadreturned.PresentlyIheardfootstepsoverhead,andaminuteortwolaterMr.Leverson’svoicetalkingtoSirReuben.
“Itwasmyfancyatthetime,sir,thatMr.Leversonwas—Ishouldnotexactlyliketosaydrunk,butinclinedtobealittleindiscreetandnoisy.Hewasshoutingathisuncleatthetopofhisvoice.Icaughtawordortwohereorthere,butnotenoughtounderstandwhatitwasallabout,andthentherewasasharpcryandaheavythud.”
Therewasapause,andParsonsrepeatedthelastwords.
“Aheavythud,”hesaidimpressively.
“IfImistakenot,itisadullthudinmostworksofromance,”murmuredPoirot.
“Maybe,sir,”saidParsonsseverely.“ItwasaheavythudIheard.”
“Athousandpardons,”saidPoirot.
“Donotmentionit,sir.Afterthethud,inthesilence,IheardMr.Leverson’svoiceasplainasplaincanbe,raisedhigh.‘MyGod,’hesaid,‘myGod,’justlikethat,sir.”
Parsons,fromhisfirstreluctancetotellthetale,hadnowprogressedtoathoroughenjoymentofit.Hefanciedhimselfmightilyasanarrator.Poirotplayeduptohim.
“MonDieu,”hemurmured.“Whatemotionyoumusthaveexperienced!”
“Yes,indeed,sir,”saidParsons,“asyousay,sir.NotthatIthoughtverymuchofitatthetime.Butitdidoccurtometowonderifanythingwasamiss,andwhetherIhadbettergoupandsee.Iwenttoturntheelectriclighton,andwasunfortunateenoughtoknockoverachair.
“Iopenedthedoor,andwentthroughtheservants’hall,andopenedtheotherdoorwhichgivesonapassage.Thebackstairsleadupfromthere,andasIstoodatthebottomofthem,hesitating,IheardMr.Leverson’svoicefromupabove,speakingheartyandcheery-like.‘Noharmdone,luckily,’hesays.‘Goodnight,’andIheardhimmoveoffalongthepassagetohisownroom,whistling.
“OfcourseIwentbacktobedatonce.Justsomethingknockedover,that’sallIthoughtitwas.Iaskyou,sir,wasItothinkSirReubenwasmurdered,withMr.Leversonsayinggoodnightandall?”
“YouaresureitwasMr.Leverson’svoiceyouheard?”
ParsonslookedatthelittleBelgianpityingly,andPoirotsawclearlyenoughthat,rightorwrong,Parsons’mindwasmadeuponthispoint.
“Isthereanythingfurtheryouwouldliketoaskme,sir?”
“Thereisonething,”saidPoirot,“doyoulikeMr.Leverson?”
“I—Ibegyourpardon,sir?”
“Itisasimplequestion.DoyoulikeMr.Leverson?”
Parsons,frombeingstartledatfirst,nowseemedembarrassed.
“Thegeneralopinionintheservants’hall,sir,”hesaid,andpaused.
“Byallmeans,”saidPoirot,“putitthatwayifitpleasesyou.”
“Theopinionis,sir,thatMr.Leversonisanopen-handedyounggentleman,butnot,ifImaysayso,particularlyintelligent,sir.”
“Ah!”saidPoirot.“Doyouknow,Parsons,thatwithouthavingseenhim,thatisalsopreciselymyopinionofMr.Leverson.”
“Indeed,sir.”
“Whatisyouropinion—Ibegyourpardon—theopinionoftheservants’hallofthesecretary?”
“Heisaveryquiet,patientgentleman,sir.Anxioustogivenotrouble.”
“Vraiment,”saidPoirot.
Thebutlercoughed.
“Herladyship,sir,”hemurmured,“isapttobealittlehastyinherjudgments.”
“Then,intheopinionoftheservants’hall,Mr.Leversoncommittedthecrime?”
“WenoneofuswishtothinkitwasMr.Leverson,”saidParsons.“We—well,plainly,wedidn’tthinkhehaditinhim,sir.”
“Buthehasasomewhatviolenttemper,hashenot?”askedPoirot.
Parsonscamenearertohim.
“Ifyouareaskingmewhohadthemostviolenttemperinthehouse—”
Poirotheldupahand.
“Ah!ButthatisnotthequestionIshouldask,”hesaidsoftly.“Myquestionwouldbe,whohasthebesttemper?”Parsonsstaredathimopenmouthed.
Poirotwastednofurthertimeonhim.Withanamiablelittlebow—hewasalwaysamiable—helefttheroomandwanderedoutintothebigsquarehallofMonRepos.Therehestoodaminuteortwointhought,then,ataslightsoundthatcametohim,cockedhisheadononesideinthemannerofaperkyrobin,andfinally,withnoiselesssteps,crossedtooneofthedoorsthatledoutofthehall.
Hestoodinthedoorway,lookingintotheroom;asmallroomfurnishedasalibrary.Atabigdeskatthefartherendofitsatathin,paleyoungmanbusilywriting.Hehadarecedingchin,andworepince-nez.
Poirotwatchedhimforsomeminutes,andthenhebrokethesilencebygivingacompletelyartificialandtheatricalcough.
“Ahem!”coughedM.HerculePoirot.
Theyoungmanatthedeskstoppedwritingandturnedhishead.Hedidnotappearundulystartled,butanexpressionofperplexitygatheredonhisfaceasheeyedPoirot.
Thelattercameforwardwithalittlebow.
“IhavethehonourofspeakingtoM.Trefusis,yes?Ah!MynameisPoirot,HerculePoirot.Youmayperhapshaveheardofme.”
“Oh—er—yes,certainly,”saidtheyoungman.
Poiroteyedhimattentively.
OwenTrefusiswasaboutthirty-threeyearsofage,andthedetectivesawatoncewhynobodywasinclinedtotreatLadyAstwell’saccusationseriously.Mr.OwenTrefusiswasaprim,properyoungman,disarminglymeek,thetypeofmanwhocanbe,andis,systematicallybullied.Onecouldfeelquitesurethathewouldneverdisplayresentment.
“LadyAstwellsentforyou,ofcourse,”saidthesecretary.“Shementionedthatshewasgoingtodoso.IsthereanywayinwhichIcanhelpyou?”
Hismannerwaspolitewithoutbeingeffusive.Poirotacceptedachair,andmurmuredgently:
“HasLadyAstwellsaidanythingtoyouofherbeliefsandsuspicions?”
OwenTrefusissmiledalittle.
“Asfarasthatgoes,”hesaid,“Ibelieveshesuspectsme.Itisabsurd,butthereitis.ShehashardlyspokenacivilwordtomesinceSirReuben’sdeath,andsheshrinksagainstthewallasIpassby.”
Hismannerwasperfectlynatural,andtherewasmoreamusementthanresentmentinhisvoice.Poirotnoddedwithanairofengagingfrankness.
“Betweenourselves,”heexplained,“shesaidthesamethingtome.Ididnotarguewithher—me,Ihavemadeitarulenevertoarguewithverypositiveladies.Youcomprehend,itisawasteoftime.”
“Oh,quite.”
“Isay,yes,Madame—oh,perfectly,Madame—précisément,Madame.Theymeannothing,thosewords,buttheysootheallthesame.Imakemyinvestigations,forthoughitseemsalmostimpossiblethatanyoneexceptM.Leversoncouldhavecommittedthecrime,yet—well,theimpossiblehashappenedbeforenow.”
“Iunderstandyourpositionperfectly,”saidthesecretary.“Pleaseregardmeasentirelyatyourservice.”
“Bon,”saidPoirot.“Weunderstandoneanother.Nowrecounttometheeventsofthatevening.Betterstartwithdinner.”
“Leversonwasnotatdinner,asyoudoubtlessknow,”saidthesecretary.“Hehadaseriousdisagreementwithhisuncle,andwentofftodineatthegolfclub.SirReubenwasinaverybadtemperinconsequence.”
“Nottooamiable,ceMonsieur,eh?”hintedPoirotdelicately.
Trefusislaughed.
“Oh!HewasaTartar!Ihaven’tworkedwithhimfornineyearswithoutknowingmostofhislittleways.Hewasanextraordinarilydifficultman,M.Poirot.Hewouldgetintochildishfitsofrageandabuseanybodywhocamenearhim.
“Iwasusedtoitbythattime.Igotintothehabitofpayingabsolutelynoattentiontoanythinghesaid.Hewasnotbad-heartedreally,buthecouldbemostfoolishandexasperatinginhismanner.Thegreatthingwasnevertoanswerhimback.”
“Wereotherpeopleaswiseasyouwereinthatrespect?”
Trefusisshruggedhisshoulders.
“LadyAstwellenjoyedagoodrow,”hesaid.“ShewasnotintheleastafraidofSirReuben,andshealwaysstooduptohimandgavehimasgoodasshegot.Theyalwaysmadeitupafterwards,andSirReubenwasreallydevotedtoher.”
“Didtheyquarrelthatnight?”
Thesecretarylookedathimsideways,hesitatedaminute,thenhesaid:
“Ibelieveso;whatmadeyouask?”
“Anidea,thatisall.”
“Idon’tknow,ofcourse,”explainedthesecretary,“butthingslookedasthoughtheywereworkingupthatway.”
Poirotdidnotpursuethetopic.
“Whoelsewasatdinner?”
“MissMargrave,Mr.VictorAstwell,andmyself.”
“Andafterwards?”
“Wewentintothedrawingroom.SirReubendidnotaccompanyus.Abouttenminuteslaterhecameinandhauledmeoverthecoalsforsometriflingmatteraboutaletter.IwentupwithhimtotheTowerroomandsetthethingstraight;thenMr.VictorAstwellcameinandsaidhehadsomethinghewishedtotalktohisbrotherabout,soIwentdownstairsandjoinedthetwoladies.
“AboutaquarterofanhourlaterIheardSirReuben’sbellringingviolently,andParsonscametosayIwastogouptoSirReubenatonce.AsIenteredtheroom,Mr.VictorAstwellwascomingout.Henearlyknockedmeover.Somethinghadevidentlyhappenedtoupsethim.Hehasaveryviolenttemper.Ireallybelievehedidn’tseeme.”
“DidSirReubenmakeanycommentonthematter?”
“Hesaid:‘Victorisalunatic;hewilldoforsomebodysomedaywhenheisinoneoftheserages.’”
“Ah!”saidPoirot.“Haveyouanyideawhatthetroublewasabout?”
“Icouldn’tsayatall.”
Poirotturnedhisheadveryslowlyandlookedatthesecretary.Thoselastwordshadbeenutteredtoohastily.HeformedtheconvictionthatTrefusiscouldhavesaidmorehadhewishedtodoso.ButonceagainPoirotdidnotpressthequestion.
“Andthen?Proceed,Iprayofyou.”
“IworkedwithSirReubenforaboutanhourandahalf.Ateleveno’clockLadyAstwellcamein,andSirReubentoldmeIcouldgotobed.”
“Andyouwent?”
“Yes.”
“Haveyouanyideahowlongshestayedwithhim?”
“Noneatall.Herroomisonthefirstfloor,andmineisonthesecond,soIwouldnothearhergotobed.”
“Isee.”
Poirotnoddedhisheadonceortwiceandsprangtohisfeet.
“Andnow,Monsieur,takemetotheTowerroom.”
Hefollowedthesecretaryupthebroadstairstothefirstlanding.HereTrefusisledhimalongthecorridor,andthroughabaizedoorattheendofit,whichgaveontheservants’staircaseandonashortpassagethatendedinadoor.Theypassedthroughthisdoorandfoundthemselvesonthesceneofthecrime.
Itwasaloftyroomtwiceashighasanyoftheothers,andwasroughlyaboutthirtyfeetsquare.Swordsandassagaisadornedthewalls,andmanynativecuriouswerearrangedaboutontables.Atthefarend,intheembrasureofthewindow,wasalargewritingtable.Poirotcrossedstraighttoit.
“ItwashereSirReubenwasfound?”
Trefusisnodded.
“Hewasstruckfrombehind,Iunderstand?”
Againthesecretarynodded.
“Thecrimewascommittedwithoneofthesenativeclubs,”heexplained.“Atremendouslyheavything.Deathmusthavebeenpracticallyinstantaneous.”
“Thatstrengthenstheconvictionthatthecrimewasnotpremeditated.Asharpquarrel,andaweaponsnatchedupalmostunconsciously.”
“Yes,itdoesnotlookwellforpoorLeverson.”
“Andthebodywasfoundfallenforwardonthedesk?”
“No,ithadslippedsidewaystotheground.”
“Ah,”saidPoirot,“thatiscurious.”
“Whycurious?”askedthesecretary.
“Becauseofthis.”
Poirotpointedtoaroundirregularstainonthepolishedsurfaceofthewritingtable.
“Thatisabloodstain,monami.”
“Itmayhavespatteredthere,”suggestedTrefusis,“oritmayhavebeenmadelater,whentheymovedthebody.”
“Verypossibly,verypossibly,”saidthelittleman.“Thereisonlytheonedoortothisroom?”
“Thereisastaircasehere.”
Trefusispulledasideavelvetcurtaininthecorneroftheroomnearestthedoor,whereasmallspiralstaircaseleadupwards.
“Thisplacewasoriginallybuiltbyanastronomer.Thestairsleduptothetowerwherethetelescopewasfixed.SirReubenhadtheplacefittedupasabedroom,andsometimessleptthereifhewasworkingverylate.”
Poirotwentnimblyupthestairs.Thecircularroomupstairswasplainlyfurnished,withacamp-bed,achairanddressingtable.Poirotsatisfiedhimselfthattherewasnootherexit,andthencamedownagaintowhereTrefusisstoodwaitingforhim.
“DidyouhearMr.Leversoncomein?”heasked.
Trefusisshookhishead.
“Iwasfastasleepbythattime.”
Poirotnodded.Helookedslowlyroundtheroom.
“Ehbien!”hesaidatlast.“Idonotthinkthereisanythingfurtherhere,unless—perhapsyouwouldbesokindastodrawthecurtains.”
ObedientlyTrefusispulledtheheavyblackcurtainsacrossthewindowatthefarendoftheroom.Poirotswitchedonthelight—whichwasmaskedbyabigalabasterbowlhangingfromtheceiling.
“Therewasadesklight?”heasked.
Forreplythesecretaryclickedonapowerfulgreen-shadedhandlamp,whichstoodonthewritingtable.Poirotswitchedtheotherlightoff,thenon,thenoffagain.
“C’estbien!Ihavefinishedhere.”
“Dinnerisathalfpastseven,”murmuredthesecretary.
“Ithankyou,M.Trefusis,foryourmanyamiabilities.”
“Notatall.”
Poirotwentthoughtfullyalongthecorridortotheroomappointedforhim.TheinscrutableGeorgewastherelayingouthismaster’sthings.
“MygoodGeorge,”hesaidpresently,“Ishall,Ihope,meetatdinneracertaingentlemanwhobeginstointriguemegreatly.Amanwhohascomehomefromthetropics,George.Withatropicaltemper—soitissaid.AmanwhomParsonstriestotellmeabout,andwhomLilyMargravedoesnotmention.ThelateSirReubenhadatemperofhisown,George.Supposingsuchamantocomeintocontactwithamanwhosetemperwasworsethanhisown—howdoyousayit?Thefurwouldjumpabout,eh?”
“‘Wouldfly’isthecorrectexpression,sir,anditisnotalwaysthecase,sir,notbyalongway.”
“No?”
“No,sir.TherewasmyAuntJemima,sir,amostshrewishtongueshehad,bulliedapoorsisterofherswholivedwithher,somethingshockingshedid.Nearlyworriedthelifeoutofher.Butifanyonecamealongwhostooduptoher,well,itwasaverydifferentthing.Itwasmeeknessshecouldn’tbear.”
“Ha!”saidPoirot,“itissuggestive—that.”
Georgecoughedapologetically.
“IsthereanythingIcandoinanyway,”heinquireddelicately,“to—er—assistyou,sir?”
“Certainly,”saidPoirotpromptly.“YoucanfindoutformewhatcoloureveningdressMissLilyMargraveworethatnight,andwhichhousemaidattendsher.”
Georgereceivedthesecommandswithhisusualstolidity.
“Verygood,sir,Iwillhavetheinformationforyouinthemorning.”
Poirotrosefromhisseatandstoodgazingintothefire.
“Youareveryusefultome,George,”hemurmured.“Doyouknow,IshallnotforgetyourAuntJemima?”
Poirotdidnot,afterall,seeVictorAstwellthatnight.AtelephonemessagecamefromhimthathewasdetainedinLondon.
“Heattendstotheaffairsofyourlatehusband’sbusiness,eh?”askedPoirotofLadyAstwell.
“Victorisapartner,”sheexplained.“HewentouttoAfricatolookintosomeminingconcessionsforthefirm.Itwasmining,wasn’tit,Lily?”
“Yes,LadyAstwell.”
“Goldmines,Ithink,orwasitcopperortin?Yououghttoknow,Lily,youwerealwaysaskingReubenquestionsaboutitall.Oh,dobecareful,dear,youwillhavethatvaseover!”
“Itisdreadfullyhotinherewiththefire,”saidthegirl.“ShallI—shallIopenthewindowalittle?”
“Ifyoulike,dear,”saidLadyAstwellplacidly.
Poirotwatchedwhilethegirlwentacrosstothewindowandopenedit.Shestoodthereaminuteortwobreathinginthecoolnightair.Whenshereturnedandsatdowninherseat,Poirotsaidtoherpolitely:
“SoMademoiselleisinterestedinmines?”
“Oh,notreally,”saidthegirlindifferently.“IlistenedtoSirReuben,butIdon’tknowanythingaboutthesubject.”
“Youpretendedverywell,then,”saidLadyAstwell.“PoorReubenactuallythoughtyouhadsomeulteriormotiveinaskingallthosequestions.”
Thelittledetective’seyeshadnotmovedfromthefire,intowhichhewassteadilystaring,butnevertheless,hedidnotmissthequickflushofvexationonLilyMargrave’sface.Tactfullyhechangedtheconversation.Whenthehourforgoodnightscame,Poirotsaidtohishostess:
“MayIhavejusttwolittlewordswithyou,Madame?”
LilyMargravevanisheddiscreetly.LadyAstwelllookedinquiringlyatthedetective.
“YouwerethelastpersontoseeSirReubenalivethatnight?”
Shenodded.Tearssprangintohereyes,andshehastilyheldablack-edgedhandkerchieftothem.
“Ah,donotdistressyourself,Ibegofyoudonotdistressyourself.”
“It’sallverywell,M.Poirot,butIcan’thelpit.”
“Iamatripleimbecilethustovexyou.”
“No,no,goon.Whatwereyougoingtosay?”
“Itwasabouteleveno’clock,Ifancy,whenyouwentintotheTowerroom,andSirReubendismissedMr.Trefusis.Isthatright?”
“Itmusthavebeenaboutthen.”
“Howlongwereyouwithhim?”
“ItwasjustaquartertotwelvewhenIgotuptomyroom;Irememberglancingattheclock.”
“LadyAstwell,willyoutellmewhatyourconversationwithyourhusbandwasabout?”
LadyAstwellsankdownonthesofaandbrokedowncompletely.Hersobswerevigorous.
“We—qua—qua—quarrelled,”shemoaned.
“Whatabout?”Poirot’svoicewascoaxing,almosttender.
“L-l-lotsofthings.Itb-b-beganwithL-Lily.Reubentookadisliketoher—fornoreason,andsaidhehadcaughtherinterferingwithhispapers.Hewantedtosendheraway,andIsaidshewasadeargirl,andIwouldnothaveit.Andthenhes-s-startedshoutingmedown,andIwouldn’thavethat,soIjusttoldhimwhatIthoughtofhim.
“NotthatIreallymeantit,M.Poirot.Hesaidhehadtakenmeoutoftheguttertomarryme,andIsaid—ah,butwhatdoesitallmatternow?Ishallneverforgivemyself.Youknowhowitis,M.Poirot,Ialwaysdidsayagoodrowclearstheair,andhowwasItoknowsomeonewasgoingtomurderhimthatverynight?PooroldReuben.”
Poirothadlistenedsympatheticallytoallthisoutburst.
“Ihavecausedyousuffering,”hesaid.“Iapologize.Letusnowbeverybusinesslike—verypractical,veryexact.YoustillclingtoyourideathatMr.Trefusismurderedyourhusband?”
LadyAstwelldrewherselfup.
“Awoman’sinstinct,M.Poirot,”shesaidsolemnly,“neverlies.”
“Exactly,exactly,”saidPoirot.“Butwhendidhedoit?”
“When?AfterIlefthim,ofcourse.”
“YouleftSirReubenataquartertotwelve.AtfiveminutestotwelveMr.Leversoncamein.Inthattenminutesyousaythesecretarycamealongfromhisbedroomandmurderedhim?”
“Itisperfectlypossible.”
“Somanythingsarepossible,”saidPoirot.“Itcouldbedoneintenminutes.Oh,yes!Butwasit?”
“Ofcoursehesayshewasinbedandfastasleep,”saidLadyAstwell,“butwhoistoknowifhewasornot?”
“Nobodysawhimabout,”Poirotremindedher.
“Everybodywasinbedandfastasleep,”saidLadyAstwelltriumphantly.“Ofcoursenobodysawhim.”
“Iwonder,”saidPoirottohimself.
Ashortpause.
“Ehbien,LadyAstwell,Iwishyougoodnight.”
Georgedepositedatrayofearly-morningcoffeebyhismaster’sbedside.
“MissMargrave,sir,woreadressoflightgreenchiffononthenightinquestion.”
“Thankyou,George,youaremostreliable.”
“ThethirdhousemaidlooksafterMissMargrave,sir.HernameisGladys.”
“Thankyou,George.Youareinvaluable.”
“Notatall,sir.”
“Itisafinemorning,”saidPoirot,lookingoutofthewindow,“andnooneislikelytobeastirveryearly.Ithink,mygoodGeorge,thatweshallhavetheTowerroomtoourselvesifweproceedtheretomakealittleexperiment.”
“Youneedme,sir?”
“Theexperiment,”saidPoirot,“willnotbepainful.”
ThecurtainswerestilldrawnintheTowerroomwhentheyarrivedthere.Georgewasabouttopullthem,whenPoirotrestrainedhim.
“Wewillleavetheroomasitis.Justturnonthedesklamp.”
Thevaletobeyed.
“Now,mygoodGeorge,sitdowninthatchair.Disposeyourselfasthoughyouwerewriting.Trèsbien.Me,Iseizeaclub,Istealupbehindyou,so,andIhityouonthebackofthehead.”
“Yes,sir,”saidGeorge.
“Ah!”saidPoirot,“butwhenIhityou,donotcontinuetowrite.YoucomprehendIcannotbeexact.IcannothityouwiththesameforcewithwhichtheassassinhitSirReuben.Whenitcomestothatpoint,wemustdothemake-believe.Ihityouonthehead,andyoucollapse,so.Thearmswellrelaxed,thebodylimp.Permitmetoarrangeyou.Butno,donotflexyourmuscles.”
Heheavedasighofexasperation.
“Youpressadmirablythetrousers,George,”hesaid,“buttheimaginationyoupossessitnot.Getupandletmetakeyourplace.”
Poirotinhisturnsatdownatthewritingtable.
“Iwrite,”hedeclared,“Iwritebusily.Youstealupbehindme,youhitmeontheheadwiththeclub.Crash!Thepenslipsfrommyfingers,Idropforward,butnotveryfarforward,forthechairislow,andthedeskishigh,and,moreover,myarmssupportme.Havethegoodness,George,togobacktothedoor,standthere,andtellmewhatyousee.”
“Ahem!”
“Yes,George?”encouragingly.
“Iseeyou,sir,sittingatthedesk.”
“Sittingatthedesk?”
“Itisalittledifficulttoseeplainly,sir,”explainedGeorge,“beingsuchalongwayaway,sir,andthelampbeingsoheavilyshaded.IfImightturnonthislight,sir?”
Hishandreachedouttotheswitch.
“Notatall,”saidPoirotsharply.“Weshalldoverywellasweare.HereamIbendingoverthedesk,thereareyoustandingbythedoor.Advancenow,George,advance,andputyourhandonmyshoulder.”
Georgeobeyed.
“Leanonmealittle,George,tosteadyyourselfonyourfeet,asitwere.Ah!Voilà.”
HerculePoirot’slimpbodyslidartisticallysideways.
“Icollapse—so!”heobserved.“Yes,itisverywellimagined.Thereisnowsomethingmostimportantthatmustbedone.”
“Indeed,sir?”saidthevalet.
“Yes,itisnecessarythatIshouldbreakfastwell.”
Thelittlemanlaughedheartilyathisownjoke.
“Thestomach,George;itmustnotbeignored.”
Georgemaintainedadisapprovingsilence.Poirotwentdownstairschucklinghappilytohimself.Hewaspleasedatthewaythingswereshaping.AfterbreakfasthemadetheacquaintanceofGladys,thethirdhousemaid.Hewasveryinterestedinwhatshecouldtellhimofthecrime.ShewassympathetictowardsCharles,althoughshehadnodoubtofhisguilt.
“Pooryounggentleman,sir,itseemshard,itdoes,himnotbeingquitehimselfatthetime.”
“HeandMissMargraveshouldhavegotonwelltogether,”suggestedPoirot,“astheonlytwoyoungpeopleinthehouse.”
Gladysshookherhead.
“Verystand-offishMissLilywaswithhim.Shewouldn’thavenocarryings-on,andshemadeitplain.”
“Hewasfondofher,washe?”
“Oh,onlyinpassing,sotospeak;noharminit,sir.Mr.VictorAstwell,nowheisproperlygoneonMissLily.”
Shegiggled.
“Ahvraiment!”
Gladysgiggledagain.
“Sweetonherstraightawayhewas.MissLilyisjustlikealily,isn’tshe,sir?Sotallandsuchalovelyshadeofgoldhair.”
“Sheshouldwearagreeneveningfrock,”musedPoirot.“Thereisacertainshadeofgreen—”
“Shehasone,sir,”saidGladys.“Ofcourse,shecan’twearitnow,beinginmourning,butshehaditontheverynightSirReubendied.”
“Itshouldbealightgreen,notadarkgreen,”saidPoirot.
“Itisalightgreen,sir.IfyouwaitaminuteI’llshowittoyou.MissLilyhasjustgoneoutwiththedogs.”
Poirotnodded.HeknewthataswellasGladysdid.Infact,itwasonlyafterseeingLilysafelyoffthepremisesthathehadgoneinsearchofthehousemaid.Gladyshurriedaway,andreturnedafewminuteslaterwithagreeneveningdressonahanger.
“Exquis!”murmuredPoirot,holdinguphandsofadmiration.“Permitmetotakeittothelightaminute.”
HetookthedressfromGladys,turnedhisbackonherandhurriedtothewindow.Hebentoverit,thenhelditoutatarm’slength.
“Itisperfect,”hedeclared.“Perfectlyravishing.Athousandthanksforshowingittome.”
“Notatall,sir,”saidGladys.“WeallknowthatFrenchmenareinterestedinladies’dresses.”
“Youaretookind,”murmuredPoirot.
Hewatchedherhurryawayagainwiththedress.Thenhelookeddownathistwohandsandsmiled.Intherighthandwasatinypairofnailscissors,intheleftwasaneatlyclippedfragmentofgreenchiffon.
“Andnow,”hemurmured,“tobeheroic.”
HereturnedtohisownapartmentandsummonedGeorge.
“Onthedressingtable,mygoodGeorge,youwillperceiveagoldscarfpin.”
“Yes,sir.”
“Onthewashstandisasolutionofcarbolic.Immerse,Iprayyou,thepointofthepininthecarbolic.”
Georgedidashewasbid.Hehadlongagoceasedtowonderatthevagariesofhismaster.
“Ihavedonethat,sir.”
“Trèsbien!Nowapproach.Itendertoyoumyfirstfinger;insertthepointofthepininit.”
“Excuseme,sir,youwantmetoprickyou,sir?”
“Butyes,youhaveguessedcorrectly.Youmustdrawblood,youunderstand,butnottoomuch.”
Georgetookholdofhismaster’sfinger.Poirotshuthiseyesandleanedback.Thevaletstabbedatthefingerwiththescarfpin,andPoirotutteredashrillyell.
“Jevousremercie,George,”hesaid.“Whatyouhavedoneisample.”
Takingasmallpieceofgreenchiffonfromhispocket,hedabbedhisfingerwithitgingerly.
“Theoperationhassucceededtoamiracle,”heremarked,gazingattheresult.“Youhavenocuriosity,George?Now,thatisadmirable!”
Thevalethadjusttakenadiscreetlookoutofthewindow.
“Excuseme,sir,”hemurmured,“agentlemanhasdrivenupinalargecar.”
“Ah!Ah!”saidPoirot.Herosebrisklytohisfeet.“TheelusiveMr.VictorAstwell.Igodowntomakehisacquaintance.”
PoirotwasdestinedtohearMr.VictorAstwellsometimebeforehesawhim.Aloudvoicerangoutfromthehall.
“Mindwhatyouaredoing,youdamnedidiot!Thatcasehasgotglassinit.Curseyou,Parsons,getoutoftheway!Putitdown,youfool!”
Poirotskippednimblydownthestairs.VictorAstwellwasabigman.Poirotbowedtohimpolitely.
“Whothedevilareyou?”roaredthebigman.
Poirotbowedagain.
“MynameisHerculePoirot.”
“Lord!”saidVictorAstwell.“SoNancysentforyou,afterall,didshe?”
HeputahandonPoirot’sshoulderandsteeredhimintothelibrary.
“Soyouarethefellowtheymakesuchafussabout,”heremarked,lookinghimupanddown.“Sorryformylanguagejustnow.Thatchauffeurofmineisadamnedass,andParsonsalwaysdoesgetonmynerves,blitheringoldidiot.
“Idon’tsufferfoolsgladly,youknow,”hesaid,half-apologetically,“butbyallaccountsyouarenotafool,eh,M.Poirot?”
Helaughedbreezily.
“Thosewhohavethoughtsohavebeensadlymistaken,”saidPoirotplacidly.
“Isthatso?Well,soNancyhascartedyoudownhere—gotabeeinherbonnetaboutthesecretary.Thereisnothinginthat;Trefusisisasmildasmilk—drinksmilk,too,Ibelieve.Thefellowisateetotaller.Ratherawasteofyourtimeisn’tit?”
“Ifonehasanopportunitytoobservehumannature,timeisneverwasted,”saidPoirotquietly.
“Humannature,eh?”
VictorAstwellstaredathim,thenheflunghimselfdowninachair.
“AnythingIcandoforyou?”
“Yes,youcantellmewhatyourquarrelwithyourbrotherwasaboutthatevening.”
VictorAstwellshookhishead.
“Nothingtodowiththecase,”hesaiddecisively.
“Onecanneverbesure,”saidPoirot.
“IthadnothingtodowithCharlesLeverson.”
“LadyAstwellthinksthatCharleshadnothingtodowiththemurder.”
“Oh,Nancy!”
“ParsonsassumesthatitwasM.CharlesLeversonwhocameinthatnight,buthedidn’tseehim.Remembernobodysawhim.”
“It’sverysimple.ReubenhadbeenpitchingintoyoungCharles—notwithoutgoodreason,Imustsay.Lateronhetriedtobullyme.Itoldhimafewhometruthsand,justtoannoyhim,Imadeupmymindtobacktheboy.Imeanttoseehimthatnight,soastotellhimhowthelandlay.WhenIwentuptomyroomIdidn’tgotobed.Instead,Ileftthedoorajarandsatonachairsmoking.Myroomisonthesecondfloor,M.Poirot,andCharles’sroomisnexttoit.”
“Pardonmyinterruptingyou—Mr.Trefusis,he,too,sleepsonthatfloor?”
Astwellnodded.
“Yes,hisroomisjustbeyondmine.”
“Nearerthestairs?”
“No,theotherway.”
AcuriouslightcameintoPoirot’sface,buttheotherdidn’tnoticeitandwenton:
“AsIsay,IwaitedupforCharles.Iheardthefrontdoorslam,asIthought,aboutfiveminutestotwelve,buttherewasnosignofCharlesforabouttenminutes.WhenhedidcomeupthestairsIsawthatitwasnogoodtacklinghimthatnight.”
Heliftedhiselbowsignificantly.
“Isee,”murmuredPoirot.
“Poordevilcouldn’twalkstraight,”saidAstwell.“Hewaslookingprettyghastly,too.Iputitdowntohisconditionatthetime.Ofcourse,now,Irealizethathehadcomestraightfromcommittingthecrime.”
Poirotinterposedaquickquestion.
“YouheardnothingfromtheTowerroom?”
“No,butyoumustrememberthatIwasrightattheotherendofthebuilding.Thewallsarethick,andIdon’tbelieveyouwouldevenhearapistolshotfiredfromthere.”
Poirotnodded.
“Iaskedifhewouldlikesomehelpgettingtobed,”continuedAstwell.“Buthesaidhewasallrightandwentintohisroomandbangedthedoor.Iundressedandwenttobed.”
Poirotwasstaringthoughtfullyatthecarpet.
“Yourealize,M.Astwell,”hesaidatlast,“thatyourevidenceisveryimportant?”
“Isupposeso,atleast—whatdoyoumean?”
“YourevidencethattenminuteselapsedbetweentheslammingofthefrontdoorandLeverson’sappearanceupstairs.Hehimselfsays,soIunderstand,thathecameintothehouseandwentstraightuptobed.Butthereismorethanthat.LadyAstwell’saccusationofthesecretaryisfantastic,Iadmit,yetuptonowithasnotbeenprovedimpossible
“Howisthat?”
“LadyAstwellsaysthatsheleftherhusbandataquartertotwelve,whilethesecretaryhadgonetobedateleveno’clock.TheonlytimehecouldhavecommittedthecrimewasbetweenaquartertotwelveandCharlesLeverson’sreturn.Now,if,asyousay,yousatwithyourdooropen,hecouldnothavecomeoutofhisroomwithoutyourseeinghim.”
“Thatisso,”agreedtheother.
“Thereisnootherstaircase?”
“No,togetdowntotheTowerroomhewouldhavehadtopassmydoor,andhedidn’t,Iamquitesureofthat.And,anyway,M.Poirot,asIsaidjustnow,themanisasmeekasaparson,Iassureyou.”
“Butyes,butyes,”saidPoirotsoothingly,“Iunderstandallthat.”Hepaused.“AndyouwillnottellmethesubjectofyourquarrelwithSirReuben?”
Theother’sfaceturnedadarkred.
“You’llgetnothingoutofme.”
Poirotlookedattheceiling.
“Icanalwaysbediscreet,”hemurmured,“wherealadyisconcerned.”
VictorAstwellsprangtohisfeet.
“Damnyou,howdidyou—whatdoyoumean?”
“Iwasthinking,”saidPoirot,“ofMissLilyMargrave.”
VictorAstwellstoodundecidedforaminuteortwo,thenhiscoloursubsided,andhesatdownagain.
“Youaretoocleverforme,M.Poirot.Yes,itwasLilywequarrelledabout.Reubenhadhisknifeintoher;hehadferretedoutsomethingorotheraboutthegirl—falsereferences,somethingofthatkind.Idon’tbelieveawordofitmyself.
“Andthenhewentfurtherthanhehadanyrighttogo,talkedaboutherstealingdownatnightandgettingoutofthehousetomeetsomefelloworother.MyGod!Igaveittohim;Itoldhimthatbettermenthanhehadbeenkilledforsayingless.Thatshuthimup.ReubenwasinclinedtobeabitafraidofmewhenIgotgoing.”
“Ihardlywonderatit,”murmuredPoirotpolitely.
“IthinkalotofLilyMargrave,”saidVictorinanothertone.“Anicegirlthroughandthrough.”
Poirotdidnotanswer.Hewasstaringinfrontofhim,seeminglylostinabstraction.Hecameoutofhisbrownstudywithajerk.
“Imust,Ithink,promenademyselfalittle.Thereisahotelhere,yes?”
“Two,”saidVictorAstwell,“theGolfHotelupbythelinksandtheMitredownbythestation.”
“Ithankyou,”saidPoirot.“Yes,certainlyImustpromenademyselfalittle.”
TheGolfHotel,asbefitsitsname,standsonthegolflinksalmostadjoiningtheclubhouse.ItwastothishostelrythatPoirotrepairedfirstinthecourseofthat“promenade”whichhehadadvertisedhimselfasbeingabouttotake.Thelittlemanhadhisownwayofdoingthings.ThreeminutesafterhehadenteredtheGolfHotelhewasinprivateconsultationwithMissLangdon,themanageress.
“Iregrettoincommodeyouinanyway,Mademoiselle,”saidPoirot,“butyouseeIamadetective.”
Simplicityalwaysappealedtohim.Inthiscasethemethodprovedefficaciousatonce.
“Adetective!”exclaimedMissLangdon,lookingathimdoubtfully.
“NotfromScotlandYard,”Poirotassuredher.“Infact—youmayhavenoticedit?IamnotanEnglishman.No,ImaketheprivateinquiriesintothedeathofSirReubenAstwell.”
“Youdon’tsay,now!”MissLangdongoggledathimexpectantly.
“Precisely,”saidPoirotbeaming.“OnlytosomeoneofdiscretionlikeyourselfwouldIrevealthefact.Ithink,Mademoiselle,youmaybeabletoaidme.Canyoutellmeofanygentlemanstayinghereonthenightofthemurderwhowasabsentfromthehotelthateveningandreturnedtoitabouttwelveorhalfpast?”
MissLangdon’seyesopenedwiderthanever.
“Youdon’tthink—?”shebreathed.
“Thatyouhadthemurdererhere?No,butIhavereasontobelievethatagueststayingherepromenadedhimselfinthedirectionofMonReposthatnight,andifsohemayhaveseensomethingwhich,thoughconveyingnomeaningtohim,mightbeveryusefultome.”
Themanageressnoddedherheadsapiently,withanairofonethoroughlywellupintheannalsofdetectivelogic.
“Iunderstandperfectly.Now,letmesee;whodidwehavestayinghere?”
Shefrowned,evidentlyrunningoverthenamesinhermind,andhelpinghermemorybyoccasionallycheckingthemoffonherfingertips.
“CaptainSwann,Mr.Elkins,MajorBlyunt,oldMr.Benson.No,really,sir,Idon’tbelieveanyonewentoutthatevening.”
“Youwouldhavenoticediftheyhaddoneso,eh?”
“Oh,yes,sir,itisnotveryusual,yousee.Imeangentlemengoouttodinnerandallthat,buttheydon’tgooutafterdinner,because—well,thereisnowheretogoto,isthere?”
TheattractionsofAbbotsCrossweregolfandnothingbutgolf.
“Thatisso,”agreedPoirot.“Then,asfarasyouremember,Mademoiselle,nobodyfromherewasoutthatnight?”
“CaptainEnglandandhiswifewereouttodinner.”
Poirotshookhishead.
“ThatisnotthekindofthingImean.Iwilltrytheotherhotel;theMitre,isitnot?”
“Oh,theMitre,”saidMissLangdon.“Ofcourse,anyonemighthavegoneoutwalkingfromthere.”
Thedisparagementofhertone,thoughvague,wasevident,andPoirotbeatatactfulretreat.
Tenminuteslaterhewasrepeatingthescene,thistimewithMissCole,thebrusquemanageressoftheMitre,alesspretentioushotelwithlowerprices,situatedclosetothestation.
“Therewasonegentlemanoutlatethatnight,cameinabouthalfpasttwelve,asfarasIcanremember.Quiteahabitofhisitwas,togooutforawalkatthattimeoftheevening.Hehaddoneitonceortwicebefore.Letmeseenow,whatwashisname?JustforthemomentIcan’trememberit.”
Shepulledalargeledgertowardsherandbeganturningoverthepages.
“Nineteenth,twentieth,twenty-first,twenty-second.Ah,hereweare.Naylor,CaptainHumphreyNaylor.”
“Hehadstayedherebefore?Youknowhimwell?”
“Oncebefore,”saidMissCole,“aboutafortnightearlier.Hewentoutthenintheevening,Iremember.”
“Hecametoplaygolf,eh?”
“Isupposeso,”saidMissCole,“that’swhatmostofthegentlemencomefor.”
“Verytrue,”saidPoirot.“Well,Mademoiselle,Ithankyouinfinitely,andIwishyougoodday.”
HewentbacktoMonReposwithaverythoughtfulface.Onceortwicehedrewsomethingfromhispocketandlookedatit.
“Itmustbedone,”hemurmuredtohimself,“andsoon,assoonasIcanmaketheopportunity.”
HisfirstproceedingonreenteringthehousewastoaskParsonswhereMissMargravemightbefound.HewastoldthatshewasinthesmallstudydealingwithLadyAstwell’scorrespondence,andtheinformationseemedtoaffordPoirotsatisfaction.
Hefoundthelittlestudywithoutdifficulty.LilyMargravewasseatedatadeskbythewindow,writing.Butforhertheroomwasempty.Poirotcarefullyshutthedoorbehindhimandcametowardsthegirl.
“Imayhavealittleminuteofyourtime,Mademoiselle,youwillbesokind?”
“Certainly.”
LilyMargraveputthepapersasideandturnedtowardshim.
“WhatcanIdoforyou?”
“Ontheeveningofthetragedy,Mademoiselle,IunderstandthatwhenLadyAstwellwenttoherhusbandyouwentstraightuptobed.Isthatso?”
LilyMargravenodded.
“Youdidnotcomedownagain,byanychance?”
Thegirlshookherhead.
“Ithinkyousaid,Mademoiselle,thatyouhadnotatanytimethateveningbeenintheTowerroom?”
“Idon’tremembersayingso,butasamatteroffactthatisquitetrue.IwasnotintheTowerroomthatevening.”
Poirotraisedhiseyebrows.
“Curious,”hemurmured.
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Verycurious,”murmuredHerculePoirotagain.“Howdoyouaccount,then,forthis?”
Hedrewfromhispocketalittlescrapofstainedgreenchiffonandhelditupforthegirl’sinspection.
Herexpressiondidnotchange,buthefeltratherthanheardthesharpintakeofbreath.
“Idon’tunderstand,M.Poirot.”
“Youwore,Iunderstand,agreenchiffondressthatevening,Mademoiselle.This—”hetappedthescrapinhisfingers—“wastornfromit.”
“AndyoufounditintheTowerroom?”askedthegirlsharply.“Whereabouts?”
HerculePoirotlookedattheceiling.
“Forthemomentshallwejustsay—intheTowerroom?”
Forthefirsttime,alookoffearsprangintothegirl’seyes.Shebegantospeak,thencheckedherself.Poirotwatchedhersmallwhitehandsclenchingthemselvesontheedgeofthedesk.
“IwonderifIdidgointotheTowerroomthatevening?”shemused.“Beforedinner,Imean.Idon’tthinkso.IamalmostsureIdidn’t.IfthatscraphasbeenintheTowerroomallthistime,itseemstomeaveryextraordinarythingthepolicedidnotfinditrightaway.”
“Thepolice,”saidthelittleman,“donotthinkofthingsthatHerculePoirotthinksof.”
“Imayhaveruninthereforaminutejustbeforedinner,”musedLilyMargrave,“oritmayhavebeenthenightbefore.Iworethesamedressthen.Yes,Iamalmostsureitwasthenightbefore.”
“Ithinknot,”saidPoirotevenly.
“Why?”
Heonlyshookhisheadslowlyfromsidetoside.
“Whatdoyoumean?”whisperedthegirl.
Shewasleaningforward,staringathim,allthecolourebbingoutofherface
“Youdonotnotice,Mademoiselle,thatthisfragmentisstained?Thereisnodoubtaboutit,thatstainishumanblood.”
“Youmean—”
“Imean,Mademoiselle,thatyouwereintheTowerroomafterthecrimewascommitted,notbefore.Ithinkyouwilldowelltotellmethewholetruth,lestworseshouldbefallyou.”
Hestoodupnow,asternlittlefigureofaman,hisforefingerpointedaccusinglyatthegirl.
“Howdidyoufindout?”gaspedLily.
“Nomatter,Mademoiselle.ItellyouHerculePoirotknows.IknowallaboutCaptainHumphreyNaylor,andthatyouwentdowntomeethimthatnight.”
Lilysuddenlyputherheaddownonherarmsandburstintotears.ImmediatelyPoirotrelinquishedhisaccusingattitude.
“There,there,mylittleone,”hesaid,pattingthegirlontheshoulder.“Donotdistressyourself.ImpossibletodeceiveHerculePoirot;oncerealizethatandallyourtroubleswillbeatanend.Andnowyouwilltellmethewholestory,willyounot?YouwilltelloldPapaPoirot?”
“Itisnotwhatyouthink,itisn’t,indeed.Humphrey—mybrother—nevertouchedahairofhishead.”
“Yourbrother,eh?”saidPoirot.“Sothatishowthelandlies.Well,ifyouwishtosavehimfromsuspicion,youmusttellmethewholestorynow,withoutreservation.”
Lilysatupagain,pushingbackthehairfromherforehead.Afteraminuteortwo,shebegantospeakinalow,clearvoice.
“Iwilltellyouthetruth,M.Poirot.Icanseenowthatitwouldbeabsurdtodoanythingelse.MyrealnameisLilyNaylor,andHumphreyismyonlybrother.Someyearsago,whenhewasoutinAfrica,hediscoveredagoldmine,orrather,Ishouldsay,discoveredthepresenceofgold.Ican’ttellyouthispartofitproperly,becauseIdon’tunderstandthetechnicaldetails,butwhatitamountedtowasthis:
“Thethingseemedlikelytobeaverybigundertaking,andHumphreycamehomewithletterstoSirReubenAstwellinthehopesofgettinghiminterestedinthematter.Idon’tunderstandtherightsofitevennow,butIgatherthatSirReubensentoutanexperttoreport,andthathesubsequentlytoldmybrotherthattheexpert’sreportwasunfavourableandthathe,Humphrey,hadmadeagreatmistake.MybrotherwentbacktoAfricaonanexpeditionintotheinteriorandwaslostsightof.Itwasassumedthatheandtheexpeditionhadperished.
“ItwassoonafterthatthatacompanywasformedtoexploittheMpalaGoldFields.WhenmybrothergotbacktoEnglandheatoncejumpedtotheconclusionthatthesegoldfieldswereidenticalwiththosehehaddiscovered.SirReubenAstwellhadapparentlynothingtodowiththiscompany,andtheyhadseeminglydiscoveredtheplaceontheirown.Butmybrotherwasnotsatisfied;hewasconvincedthatSirReubenhaddeliberatelyswindledhim.
“Hebecamemoreandmoreviolentandunhappyaboutthematter.Wetwoarealoneintheworld,M.Poirot,andasitwasnecessarythenformetogooutandearnmyownliving,IconceivedtheideaoftakingapostinthishouseholdandtryingtofindoutifanyconnectionexistedbetweenSirReubenandtheMpalaGoldFields.ForobviousreasonsIconcealedmyrealname,andI’lladmitfranklythatIusedaforgedreference.
“Thereweremanyapplicantsforthepost,mostofthemwithbetterqualificationsthanmine,so—well,M.Poirot,IwroteabeautifulletterfromtheDuchessofPerthshire,whoIknewhadgonetoAmerica.IthoughtaduchesswouldhaveagreateffectuponLadyAstwell,andIwasquiteright.Sheengagedmeonthespot.
“SincethenIhavebeenthathatefulthing,aspy,anduntillatelywithnosuccess.SirReubenisnotamantogiveawayhisbusinesssecrets,butwhenVictorAstwellcamebackfromAfricahewaslessguardedinhistalk,andIbegantobelievethat,afterall,Humphreyhadnotbeenmistaken.Mybrothercamedownhereaboutafortnightbeforethemurder,andIcreptoutofthehousetomeethimsecretlyatnight.ItoldhimthethingsVictorAstwellhadsaid,andhebecameveryexcitedandassuredmeIwasdefinitelyontherighttrack.
“Butafterthatthingsbegantogowrong;someonemusthaveseenmestealingoutofthehouseandhavereportedthemattertoSirReuben.Hebecamesuspiciousandhuntedupmyreferences,andsoondiscoveredthefactthattheywereforged.Thecrisiscameonthedayofthemurder.IthinkhethoughtIwasafterhiswife’sjewels.Whateverhissuspicionswere,hehadnointentionofallowingmetoremainanylongeratMonRepos,thoughheagreednottoprosecutemeonaccountofthereferences.LadyAstwelltookmypartthroughoutandstoodupvaliantlytoSirReuben.”
Shepaused.Poirot’sfacewasverygrave.
“Andnow,Mademoiselle,”hesaid,“wecometothenightofthemurder.”
Lilyswallowedhardandnoddedherhead
“Tobeginwith,M.Poirot,Imusttellyouthatmybrotherhadcomedownagain,andthatIhadarrangedtocreepoutandmeethimoncemore.Iwentuptomyroom,asIhavesaid,butIdidnotgotobed.Instead,IwaitedtillIthoughteveryonewasasleep,andthenstoledownstairsagainandoutbythesidedoor.ImetHumphreyandacquaintedhiminafewhurriedwordswithwhathadoccurred.ItoldhimthatIbelievedthepapershewantedwereinSirReuben’ssafeintheTowerroom,andweagreedasalastdesperateadventuretotryandgetholdofthemthatnight.
“Iwastogoinfirstandseethatthewaywasclear.IheardthechurchclockstriketwelveasIwentinbythesidedoor.Iwashalf-wayupthestairsleadingtotheTowerroom,whenIheardathudofsomethingfalling,andavoicecriedout,‘MyGod!’AminuteortwoafterwardsthedooroftheTowerroomopened,andCharlesLeversoncameout.Icouldseehisfacequiteclearlyinthemoonlight,butIwascrouchingsomewaybelowhimonthestairswhereitwasdark,andhedidnotseemeatall.
“Hestoodthereamomentswayingonhisfeetandlookingghastly.Heseemedtobelistening;thenwithaneffortheseemedtopullhimselftogetherand,openingthedoorintotheTowerroom,calledoutsomethingabouttherebeingnoharmdone.Hisvoicewasquitejauntyanddebonair,buthisfacegavethelietoit.Hewaitedaminutemore,andthenslowlywentonupstairsandoutofsight.
“WhenhehadgoneIwaitedaminuteortwoandthencrepttotheTowerroomdoor.Ihadafeelingthatsomethingtragichadhappened.Themainlightwasout,butthedesklampwason,andbyitslightIsawSirReubenlyingonthefloorbythedesk.Idon’tknowhowImanagedit,butInervedmyselfatlasttogooverandkneeldownbyhim.Isawatoncethathewasdead,struckdownfrombehind,andalsothathecouldn’thavebeendeadlong;Itouchedhishandanditwasstillquitewarm.Itwasjusthorrible,M.Poirot.Horrible!”
Sheshudderedagainattheremembrance.
“Andthen?”saidPoirot,lookingatherkeenly.
LilyMargravenodded.
“Yes,M.Poirot,Iknowwhatyouarethinking.Whydidn’tIgivethealarmandraisethehouse?Ishouldhavedoneso,Iknow,butitcameovermeinaflash,asIkneltthere,thatmyquarrelwithSirReuben,mystealingouttomeetHumphrey,thefactthatIwasbeingsentawayonthemorrow,madeafatalsequence.TheywouldsaythatIhadletHumphreyin,andthatHumphreyhadkilledSirReubenoutofrevenge.IfIsaidthatIhadseenCharlesLeversonleavingtheroom,noonewouldbelieveme.
“Itwasterrible,M.Poirot!Ikneltthere,andthoughtandthought,andthemoreIthoughtthemoremynervefailedme.PresentlyInoticedSirReuben’skeyswhichhaddroppedfromhispocketashefell.Amongthemwasthekeyofthesafe,thecombinationwordIalreadyknew,sinceLadyAstwellhadmentioneditonceinmyhearing.Iwentovertothatsafe,M.Poirot,unlockeditandrummagedthroughthepapersIfoundthere.
“IntheendIfoundwhatIwaslookingfor.Humphreyhadbeenperfectlyright.SirReubenwasbehindtheMpalaGoldFields,andhehaddeliberatelyswindledHumphrey.Thatmadeitalltheworse.ItgaveaperfectlydefinitemotiveforHumphreyhavingcommittedthecrime.Iputthepapersbackinthesafe,leftthekeyinthedoorofit,andwentstraightupstairstomyroom.InthemorningIpretendedtobesurprisedandhorror-stricken,likeeveryoneelse,whenthehousemaiddiscoveredthebody.”
ShestoppedandlookedpiteouslyacrossatPoirot.
“Youdobelieveme,M.Poirot.Oh,dosayyoubelieveme!”
“Ibelieveyou,Mademoiselle,”saidPoirot;“youhaveexplainedmanythingsthatpuzzledme.Yourabsolutecertainty,foronething,thatCharlesLeversonhadcommittedthecrime,andatthesametimeyourpersistenteffortstokeepmefromcomingdownhere.”
Lilynodded.
“Iwasafraidofyou,”sheadmittedfrankly.“LadyAstwellcouldnotknow,asIdid,thatCharleswasguilty,andIcouldn’tsayanything.Ihopedagainsthopethatyouwouldrefusetotakethecase.”
“Butforthatobviousanxietyonyourpart,Imighthavedoneso,”saidPoirotdrily.
Lilylookedathimswiftly,herlipstrembledalittle.
“Andnow,M.Poirot,what—whatareyougoingtodo?”
“Asfarasyouareconcerned,Mademoiselle,nothing.Ibelieveyourstory,andIacceptit.ThenextstepistogotoLondonandseeInspectorMiller.”
“Andthen?”askedLily.
“Andthen,”saidPoirot,“weshallsee.”
Outsidethedoorofthestudyhelookedoncemoreatthelittlesquareofstainedgreenchiffonwhichheheldinhishand.
“Amazing,”hemurmuredtohimselfcomplacently,“theingenuityofHerculePoirot.”
Detective-InspectorMillerwasnotparticularlyfondofM.HerculePoirot.HedidnotbelongtothatsmallbandofinspectorsattheYardwhowelcomedthelittleBelgian’scooperation.HewaswonttosaythatHerculePoirotwasmuchoverrated.Inthiscasehefeltprettysureofhimself,andgreetedPoirotwithhighgoodhumourinconsequence.
“ActingforLadyAstwell,areyou?Well,youhavetakenupamare’snestinthatcase.”
“Thereis,then,nopossibledoubtaboutthematter?”
Millerwinked.“Neverwasaclearercase,shortofcatchingamurdererabsolutelyred-handed.”
“M.Leversonhasmadeastatement,Iunderstand?”
“Hehadbetterhavekepthismouthshut,”saidthedetective.“Herepeatsoverandoveragainthathewentstraightuptohisroomandneverwentnearhisuncle.That’safoolstoryonthefaceofit.”
“Itiscertainlyagainsttheweightofevidence,”murmuredPoirot.“Howdoeshestrikeyou,thisyoungM.Leverson?”
“Darnedyoungfool.”
“Aweakcharacter,eh?”
Theinspectornodded.
“Onewouldhardlythinkayoungmanofthattypewouldhavethe—howdoyousayit—thebowelstocommitsuchacrime.”
“Onthefaceofit,no,”agreedtheinspector.“But,blessyou,Ihavecomeacrossthesamethingmanytimes.Getaweak,dissipatedyoungmanintoacorner,fillhimupwithadroptoomuchtodrink,andforalimitedamountoftimeyoucanturnhimintoafire-eater.Aweakmaninacornerismoredangerousthanastrongman.”
“Thatistrue,yes;thatistruewhatyousay.”
Millerunbentalittlefurther.
“Ofcourse,itisallrightforyou,M.Poirot,”hesaid.“Yougetyourfeesjustthesame,andnaturallyyouhavetomakeapretenceofexaminingtheevidencetosatisfyherladyship.Icanunderstandallthat.”
“Youunderstandsuchinterestingthings,”murmuredPoirot,andtookhisleave.
HisnextcallwasuponthesolicitorrepresentingCharlesLeverson.Mr.Mayhewwasathin,dry,cautiousgentleman.HereceivedPoirotwithreserve.Poirot,however,hadhisownwaysofinducingconfidence.Intenminutes’timethetwoweretalkingtogetheramicably.
“Youwillunderstand,”saidPoirot,“IamactinginthiscasesolelyonbehalfofMr.Leverson.ThatisLadyAstwell’swish.Sheisconvincedthatheisnotguilty.”
“Yes,yes,quiteso,”saidMr.Mayhewwithoutenthusiasm.
Poirot’seyestwinkled.“YoudonotperhapsattachmuchimportancetotheopinionsofLadyAstwell?”hesuggested.
“Shemightbejustassureofhisguilttomorrow,”saidthelawyerdrily.
“Herintuitionsarenotevidencecertainly,”agreedPoirot,“andonthefaceofitthecaselooksveryblackagainstthispooryoungman.”
“Itisapityhesaidwhathedidtothepolice,”saidthelawyer;“itwillbenogoodhisstickingtothatstory.”
“Hashestucktoitwithyou?”inquiredPoirot.
Mayhewnodded.“Itnevervariesaniota.Herepeatsitlikeaparrot.”
“Andthatiswhatdestroysyourfaithinhim,”musedtheother.“Ah,don’tdenyit,”headdedquickly,holdingupanarrestinghand.“Iseeitonlytooplainly.Inyourheartyoubelievehimguilty.Butlistennowtome,tome,HerculePoirot.Ipresenttoyouacase
“Thisyoungmancomeshome,hehasdrunkthecocktail,thecocktail,andagainthecocktail,alsowithoutdoubttheEnglishwhiskyandsodamanytimes.Heisfullof,whatyoucallit?thecourageDutch,andinthatmoodhelethimselfintothehousewithhislatchkey,andhegoeswithunsteadystepsuptotheTowerroom.Helooksinatthedoorandseesinthedimlighthisuncle,apparentlybendingoverthedesk.
“M.Leversonisfull,aswehavesaid,ofthecourageDutch.Heletshimselfgo,hetellshisunclejustwhathethinksofhim.Hedefieshim,heinsultshim,andthemorehisuncledoesnotanswerback,themoreheisencouragedtogoon,torepeathimself,tosaythesamethingoverandoveragain,andeachtimemoreloudly.Butatlastthecontinuedsilenceofhisuncleawakensanapprehension.Hegoesnearertohim,helayshishandonhisuncle’sshoulder,andhisuncle’sfigurecrumplesunderhistouchandsinksinaheaptotheground.
“Heissoberedthen,thisM.Leverson.Thechairfallswithacrash,andhebendsoverSirReuben.Herealizeswhathashappened,helooksathishandcoveredwithsomethingwarmandred.Heisinapanicthen,hewouldgiveanythingonearthtorecallthecrywhichhasjustsprungfromhislips,echoingthroughthehouse.Mechanicallyhepicksupthechair,thenhehastensoutthroughthedoorandlistens.Hefancieshehearsasound,andimmediately,automatically,hepretendstobespeakingtohisunclethroughtheopendoor.
“Thesoundisnotrepeated.Heisconvincedhehasbeenmistakeninthinkingheheardone.Nowallissilence,hecreepsuptohisroom,andatonceitoccurstohimhowmuchbetteritwillbeifhepretendsnevertohavebeennearhisunclethatnight.Sohetellshisstory.Parsonsatthattime,remember,hassaidnothingofwhatheheard.Whenhedoesdoso,itistoolateforM.Leversontochange.Heisstupid,andheisobstinate,hestickstohisstory.Tellme,Monsieur,isthatnotpossible?”
“Yes,”saidthelawyer,“Isupposeinthewayyouputitthatitispossible.”
Poirotrosetohisfeet.
“YouhavetheprivilegeofseeingM.Leverson,”hesaid.“PuttohimthestoryIhavetoldyou,andaskhimifitisnottrue.”
Outsidethelawyer’soffice,Poirothailedataxi.
“Three-four-eightHarleyStreet,”hemurmuredtothedriver.
Poirot’sdepartureforLondonhadtakenLadyAstwellbysurprise,forthelittlemanhadnotmadeanymentionofwhatheproposeddoing.Onhisreturn,afteranabsenceoftwenty-fourhours,hewasinformedbyParsonsthatLadyAstwellwouldliketoseehimassoonaspossible.Poirotfoundtheladyinherownboudoir.Shewaslyingdownonthedivan,herheadproppedupbycushions,andshelookedstartlinglyillandhaggard;farmoresothanshehaddoneonthedayPoirotarrived.
“Soyouhavecomeback,M.Poirot?”
“Ihavereturned,Madame.”
“YouwenttoLondon?”
Poirotnodded.
“Youdidn’ttellmeyouweregoing,”saidLadyAstwellsharply.
“Athousandapologies,Madame,Iaminerror,Ishouldhavedoneso.Laprochainefois—”
“Youwilldoexactlythesame,”interruptedLadyAstwellwithashrewdtouchofhumour.“Dothingsfirstandtellpeopleafterwards,thatisyourmottorightenough.”
“PerhapsithasalsobeenMadame’smotto?”Hiseyestwinkled.
“Nowandthen,perhaps,”admittedtheother.“WhatdidyougouptoLondonfor,M.Poirot?Youcantellmenow,Isuppose?”
“IhadaninterviewwiththegoodInspectorMiller,andalsowiththeexcellentMr.Mayhew.”
LadyAstwell’seyessearchedhisface.
“Andyouthink,now—?”shesaidslowly.
Poirot’seyeswerefixedonhersteadily.
“ThatthereisapossibilityofCharlesLeverson’sinnocence,”hesaidgravely.
“Ah!”LadyAstwellhalf-sprungup,sendingtwocushionsrollingtotheground.“Iwasright,then,Iwasright!”
“Isaidapossibility,Madame,thatisall.”
Somethinginhistoneseemedtostrikeher.Sheraisedherselfononeelbowandregardedhimpiercingly.
“CanIdoanything?”sheasked.
“Yes,”henoddedhishead,“youcantellme,LadyAstwell,whyyoususpectOwenTrefusis.”
“IhavetoldyouIknow—that’sall.”
“Unfortunately,thatisnotenough,”saidPoirotdrily.“Castyourmindbacktothefatalevening,Madame.Remembereachdetail,eachtinyhappening.Whatdidyounoticeorobserveaboutthesecretary?I,HerculePoirot,tellyoutheremusthavebeensomething.”
LadyAstwellshookherhead.
“Ihardlynoticedhimatallthatevening,”shesaid,“andIcertainlywasnotthinkingofhim.”
“Yourmindwastakenupbysomethingelse?”
“Yes.”
“Withyourhusband’sanimusagainstMissLilyMargrave?”
“That’sright,”saidLadyAstwell,noddingherhead;“youseemtoknowallaboutit,M.Poirot.”
“Me,Iknoweverything,”declaredthelittlemanwithanabsurdlygrandioseair.
“IamfondofLily,M.Poirot;youhaveseenthatforyourself.Reubenbegankickinguparumpusaboutsomereferenceorotherofhers.Mindyou,Idon’tsayshehadn’tcheatedaboutit.Shehad.But,blessyou,Ihavedonemanyworsethingsthanthatintheolddays.Youhavegottobeuptoallsortsoftrickstogetroundtheatricalmanagers.ThereisnothingIwouldn’thavewritten,orsaid,ordone,inmytime.
“Lilywantedthisjob,andsheputinalotofslickworkthatwasnotquite—well,quitethething,youknow.Menaresostupidaboutthatsortofthing;Lilyreallymighthavebeenabankclerkabscondingwithmillionsforthefusshemadeaboutit.Iwasterriblyworriedalltheevening,because,althoughIcouldusuallygetroundReubenintheend,hewasterriblypigheadedattimes,poordarling.SoofcourseIhadn’ttimetogonoticingsecretaries,notthatonedoesnoticeMr.Trefusismuch,anyway.Heisjustthereandthat’sallthereistoit.”
“IhavenoticedthatfactaboutM.Trefusis,”saidPoirot.“Hisisnotapersonalitythatstandsforth,thatshines,thathitsyoucr-r-rack.”
“No,”saidLadyAstwell,“heisnotlikeVictor.”
“M.VictorAstwellis,Ishouldsay,explosive.”
“Thatisasplendidwordforhim,”saidLadyAstwell.“Heexplodesalloverthehouse,likeoneofthosethingimyjigfireworkthings.”
“Asomewhatquicktemper,Ishouldimagine?”suggestedPoirot.
“Oh,he’saperfectdevilwhenroused,”saidLadyAstwell,“butblessyou,I’mnotafraidofhim.AllbarkandnobitetoVictor.”
Poirotlookedattheceiling.
“Andyoucantellmenothingaboutthesecretarythatevening?”hemurmuredgently.
“Itellyou,M.Poirot,Iknow.It’sintuition.Awoman’sintuition—”
“Willnothangaman,”saidPoirot,“andwhatismoretothepoint,itwillnotsaveamanfrombeinghanged.LadyAstwell,ifyousincerelybelievethatM.Leversonisinnocent,andthatyoursuspicionsofthesecretaryarewell-founded,willyouconsenttoalittleexperiment?”
“Whatkindofanexperiment?”demandedLadyAstwellsuspiciously.
“Willyoupermityourselftobeputintoaconditionofhypnosis?”
“Whateverfor?”
Poirotleanedforward.
“IfIweretotellyou,Madame,thatyourintuitionisbasedoncertainfactsrecordedsubconsciously,youwouldprobablybesceptical.Iwillonlysay,then,thatthisexperimentIproposemaybeofgreatimportancetothatunfortunateyoungman,CharlesLeverson.Youwillnotrefuse?”
“Whoisgoingtoputmeintoatrance?”demandedLadyAstwellsuspiciously.“You?”
“Afriendofmine,LadyAstwell,arrives,ifImistakenot,atthisveryminute.Ihearthewheelsofthecaroutside.”
“Whoishe?”
“ADr.CazaletofHarleyStreet.”
“Ishe—allright?”askedLadyAstwellapprehensively.
“Heisnotaquack,Madame,ifthatiswhatyoumean.Youcantrustyourselfinhishandsquitesafely.”
“Well,”saidLadyAstwellwithasigh,“Ithinkitisallbunkum,butyoucantryifyoulike.NobodyisgoingtosaythatIstoodinyourway.”
“Athousandthanks,Madame.”
Poirothurriedfromtheroom.Inafewminuteshereturnedusheringinacheerful,round-facedlittleman,withspectacles,whowasveryupsettingtoLadyAstwell’sconceptionofwhatahypnotistshouldlooklike.Poirotintroducedthem.
“Well,”saidLadyAstwellgood-humouredly,“howdowestartthistomfoolery?”
“Quitesimple,LadyAstwell,quitesimple,”saidthelittledoctor.“Justleanback,so—that’sright,that’sright.Noneedtobeuneasy.”
“Iamnotintheleastuneasy,”saidLadyAstwell.“Ishouldliketoseeanyonehypnotizingmeagainstmywill.”
Dr.Cazaletsmiledbroadly.
“Yes,butifyouconsent,itwon’tbeagainstyourwill,willit?”hesaidcheerfully.“That’sright.Turnoffthatotherlight,willyou,M.Poirot?Justletyourselfgotosleep,LadyAstwell.”
Heshiftedhispositionalittle.
“It’sgettinglate.Youaresleepy—verysleepy.Youreyelidsareheavy,theyareclosing—closing—closing.Soonyouwillbeasleep….”
Hisvoicedronedon,low,soothing,andmonotonous.PresentlyheleanedforwardandgentlyliftedLadyAstwell’srighteyelid.ThenheturnedtoPoirot,noddinginasatisfiedmanner.
“That’sallright,”hesaidinalowvoice.“ShallIgoahead?”
“Ifyouplease.”
Thedoctorspokeoutsharplyandauthoritatively:“Youareasleep,LadyAstwell,butyouhearme,andyoucananswermyquestions.”
Withoutstirringorraisinganeyelid,themotionlessfigureonthesofarepliedinalow,monotonousvoice:
“Ihearyou.Icanansweryourquestions.”
“LadyAstwell,Iwantyoutogobacktotheeveningonwhichyourhusbandwasmurdered.Yourememberthatevening?”
“Yes.”
“Youareatthedinnertable.Describetomewhatyousawandfelt.”
Thepronefigurestirredalittlerestlessly.
“Iamingreatdistress.IamworriedaboutLily.”
“Weknowthat;telluswhatyousaw.”
“Victoriseatingallthesaltedalmonds;heisgreedy.TomorrowIshalltellParsonsnottoputthedishonthatsideofthetable.”
“Goon,LadyAstwell.”
“Reubenisinabadhumourtonight.Idon’tthinkitisaltogetheraboutLily.Itissomethingtodowithbusiness.Victorlooksathiminaqueerway.”
“TellusaboutMr.Trefusis,LadyAstwell.”
“Hisleftshirtcuffisfrayed.Heputsalotofgreaseonhishair.Iwishmendidn’t,itruinsthecoversinthedrawingroom.”
CazaletlookedatPoirot;theothermadeamotionwithhishead.
“Itisafterdinner,LadyAstwell,youarehavingcoffee.Describethescenetome.”
“Thecoffeeisgoodtonight.Itvaries.Cookisveryunreliableoverhercoffee.Lilykeepslookingoutofthewindow,Idon’tknowwhy.NowReubencomesintotheroom;heisinoneofhisworstmoodstonight,andburstsoutwithaperfectfloodofabusetopoorMr.Trefusis.Mr.Trefusishashishandroundthepaperknife,thebigonewiththesharpbladelikeaknife.Howhardheisgraspingit;hisknucklesarequitewhite.Look,hehasdugitsohardinthetablethatthepointsnaps.Heholdsitjustasyouwouldholdadaggeryouweregoingtostickintosomeone.There,theyhavegoneouttogethernow.Lilyhasgothergreeneveningdresson;shelookssoprettyingreen,justlikealily.Imusthavethecoverscleanednextweek.”
“Justaminute,LadyAstwell.”
ThedoctorleanedacrosstoPoirot.
“Wehavegotit,Ithink,”hemurmured;“thatactionwiththepaperknife,that’swhatconvincedherthatthesecretarydidthething.”
“LetusgoontotheTowerroomnow.”
Thedoctornodded,andbeganoncemoretoquestionLadyAstwellinhishigh,decisivevoice.
“Itislaterintheevening;youareintheTowerroomwithyourhusband.Youandhehavehadaterriblescenetogether,haveyounot?”
Againthefigurestirreduneasily.
“Yes—terrible—terrible.Wesaiddreadfulthings—bothofus.”
“Nevermindthatnow.Youcanseetheroomclearly,thecurtainsweredrawn,thelightswereon.”
“Notthemiddlelight,onlythedesklight.”
“Youareleavingyourhusbandnow,youaresayinggoodnighttohim.”
“No,Iwastooangry.”
“Itisthelasttimeyouwillseehim;verysoonhewillbemurdered.Doyouknowwhomurderedhim,LadyAstwell?”
“Yes.Mr.Trefusis.”
“Whydoyousaythat?”
“Becauseofthebulge—thebulgeinthecurtain.”
“Therewasabulgeinthecurtain?”
“Yes.”
“Yousawit?”
“Yes.Ialmosttouchedit.”
“Wasthereamanconcealedthere—Mr.Trefusis?”
“Yes.”
“Howdoyouknow?”
Forthefirsttimethemonotonousansweringvoicehesitatedandlostconfidence.
“I—I—becauseofthepaperknife.”
Poirotandthedoctoragaininterchangedswiftglances.
“Idon’tunderstandyou,LadyAstwell.Therewasabulgeinthecurtain,yousay?Someoneconcealedthere?Youdidn’tseethatperson?”
“No.”
“YouthoughtitwasMr.Trefusisbecauseofthewayheheldthepaperknifeearlier?”
“Yes.”
“ButMr.Trefusishadgonetobed,hadhenot?”
“Yes—yes,that’sright,hehadgoneawaytohisroom.”
“Sohecouldn’thavebeenbehindthecurtaininthewindow?”
“No—no,ofcoursenot,hewasn’tthere.”
“Hehadsaidgoodnighttoyourhusbandsometimebefore,hadn’the?”
“Yes.”
“Andyoudidn’tseehimagain?”
“No.”
Shewasstirringnow,throwingherselfabout,moaningfaintly.
“Sheiscomingout,”saidthedoctor.“Well,Ithinkwehavegotallwecan,eh?”
Poirotnodded.ThedoctorleanedoverLadyAstwell.
“Youarewaking,”hemurmuredsoftly.“Youarewakingnow.Inanotherminuteyouwillopenyoureyes.”
Thetwomenwaited,andpresentlyLadyAstwellsatuprightandstaredatthemboth.
“HaveIbeenhavinganap?”
“That’sit,LadyAstwell,justalittlesleep,”saidthedoctor.
Shelookedathim.
“Someofyourhocus-pocus,eh?”
“Youdon’tfeelanytheworse,Ihope,”heasked.
LadyAstwellyawned.
“Ifeelrathertiredanddoneup.”
Thedoctorrose.
“Iwillaskthemtosendyouupsomecoffee,”hesaid,“andwewillleaveyouforthepresent.”
“DidI—sayanything?”LadyAstwellcalledafterthemastheyreachedthedoor.
Poirotsmiledbackather.
“Nothingofgreatimportance,Madame.Youinformedusthatthedrawingroomcoversneededcleaning.”
“Sotheydo,”saidLadyAstwell.“Youneedn’thaveputmeintoatrancetogetmetotellyouthat.”Shelaughedgood-humouredly.“Anythingmore?”
“DoyourememberM.Trefusispickingupapaperknifeinthedrawingroomthatnight?”askedPoirot.
“Idon’tknow,I’msure,”saidLadyAstwell.“Hemayhavedoneso.”
“Doesabulgeinthecurtainconveyanythingtoyou?”
LadyAstwellfrowned.
“Iseemtoremember,”shesaidslowly.“No—it’sgone,andyet—”
“Donotdistressyourself,LadyAstwell,”saidPoirotquickly;“itisofnoimportance—ofnoimportancewhatever.”
ThedoctorwentwithPoirottothelatter’sroom.
“Well,”saidCazalet,“Ithinkthisexplainsthingsprettyclearly.NodoubtwhenSirReubenwasdressingdownthesecretary,thelattergrabbedtightholdonapaperknife,andhadtoexerciseagooddealofself-controltopreventhimselfansweringback.LadyAstwell’sconsciousmindwaswhollytakenupwiththeproblemofLilyMargrave,buthersubconsciousmindnoticedandmisconstruedtheaction.
“ItimplantedinherthefirmconvictionthatTrefusismurderedSirReuben.Nowwecometothebulgeinthecurtain.Thatisinteresting.ItakeitfromwhatyouhavetoldmeoftheTowerroomthatthedeskwasrightinthewindow.Therearecurtainsacrossthatwindow,ofcourse?”
“Yes,monami,blackvelvetcurtains.”
“Andthereisroomintheembrasureofthewindowforanyonetoremainconcealedbehindthem?”
“Therewouldbejustroom,Ithink.”
“Thenthereseemsatleastapossibility,”saidthedoctorslowly,“thatsomeonewasconcealedintheroom,butifsoitcouldnotbethesecretary,sincetheybothsawhimleavetheroom.ItcouldnotbeVictorAstwell,forTrefusismethimgoingout,anditcouldnotbeLilyMargrave.WhoeveritwasmusthavebeenconcealedtherebeforeSirReubenenteredtheroomthatevening.Youhavetoldmeprettywellhowthelandlies.NowwhataboutCaptainNaylor?Couldithavebeenhewhowasconcealedthere?”
“Itisalwayspossible,”admittedPoirot.“Hecertainlydinedatthehotel,buthowsoonhewentoutafterwardsisdifficulttofixexactly.Hereturnedabouthalfpasttwelve.”
“Thenitmighthavebeenhe,”saidthedoctor,“andifso,hecommittedthecrime.Hehadthemotive,andtherewasaweaponnearathand.Youdon’tseemsatisfiedwiththeidea,though?”
“Me,Ihaveotherideas,”confessedPoirot.“Tellmenow,M.leDocteur,supposingforoneminutethatLadyAstwellherselfhadcommittedthiscrime,wouldshenecessarilybetraythefactinthehypnoticstate?”
Thedoctorwhistled.
“Sothat’swhatyouaregettingat?LadyAstwellisthecriminal,eh?Ofcourse—itispossible;Ineverthoughtofittillthisminute.Shewasthelasttobewithhim,andnoonesawhimaliveafterwards.Astoyourquestion,Ishouldbeinclinedtosay—no.LadyAstwellwouldgointothehypnoticstatewithastrongmentalreservationtosaynothingofherownpartinthecrime.Shewouldanswermyquestionstruthfully,butshewouldbedumbonthatonepoint.YetIshouldhardlyhaveexpectedhertobesoinsistentonMr.Trefusis’sguilt.”
“Icomprehend,”saidPoirot.“ButIhavenotsaidthatIbelieveLadyAstwelltobethecriminal.Itisasuggestion,thatisall.”
“Itisaninterestingcase,”saidthedoctorafteraminuteortwo.“GrantingCharlesLeversonisinnocent,therearesomanypossibilities,HumphreyNaylor,LadyAstwell,andevenLilyMargrave.”
“Thereisanotheryouhavenotmentioned,”saidPoirotquietly,“VictorAstwell.Accordingtohisownstory,hesatinhisroomwiththedooropenwaitingforCharlesLeverson’sreturn,butwehaveonlyhisownwordsforit,youcomprehend?”
“Heisthebad-temperedfellow,isn’the?”askedthedoctor.“Theoneyoutoldmeabout?”
“Thatisso,”agreedPoirot.
Thedoctorrosetohisfeet.
“Well,Imustbegettingbacktotown.Youwillletmeknowhowthingsshape,won’tyou?”
Afterthedoctorhadleft,PoirotpulledthebellforGeorge.
“Acupoftisane,George.Mynervesaremuchdisturbed.”
“Certainly,sir,”saidGeorge.“Iwillprepareitimmediately.”
Tenminuteslaterhebroughtasteamingcuptohismaster.Poirotinhaledthenoxiousfumeswithpleasure.Ashesippedit,hesoliloquizedaloud.
“Thechaseisdifferentallovertheworld.Tocatchthefoxyouridehardwiththedogs.Youshout,yourun,itisamatterofspeed.Ihavenotshotthestagmyself,butIunderstandthattodosoyoucrawlformanylong,longhoursuponyourstomach.MyfriendHastingshasrecountedtheaffairtome.Ourmethodhere,mygoodGeorge,mustbeneitherofthese.Letusreflectuponthehouseholdcat.Formanylong,wearyhours,hewatchesthemousehole,hemakesnomovement,hebetraysnoenergy,but—hedoesnotgoaway.”
Hesighedandputtheemptycupdownonitssaucer.
“Itoldyoutopackforafewdays.Tomorrow,mygoodGeorge,youwillgotoLondonandbringdownwhatisnecessaryforafortnight.”
“Verygood,sir,”saidGeorge.Asusualhedisplayednoemotion.
TheapparentlypermanentpresenceofHerculePoirotatMonReposwasdisquietingtomanypeople.VictorAstwellremonstratedwithhissister-in-lawaboutit
“It’sallverywell,Nancy.Youdon’tknowwhatfellowsofthatkindarelike.Hehasfoundjollycomfortablequartershere,andheisevidentlygoingtosettledowncomfortablyforaboutamonth,chargingyouseveralguineasadayallthewhile.”
LadyAstwell’sreplywastotheeffectthatshecouldmanageherownaffairswithoutinterference.
LilyMargravetriedearnestlytoconcealherperturbation.Atthetime,shehadfeltsurethatPoirotbelievedherstory.Nowshewasnotsocertain.
Poirotdidnotplayanentirelyquiescentgame.Onthefifthdayofhissojournhebroughtdownasmallthumbographalbumtodinner.Asamethodofgettingthethumbprintsofthehousehold,itseemedaratherclumsydevice,yetnotperhapssoclumsyasitseemed,sincenoonecouldaffordtorefusetheirthumbprints.OnlyafterthelittlemanhadretiredtobeddidVictorAstwellstatehisviews.
“Youseewhatitmeans,Nancy.Heisoutafteroneofus.”
“Don’tbeabsurd,Victor.”
“Well,whatothermeaningcouldthatblinkinglittlebookofhishave?”
“M.Poirotknowswhatheisdoing,”saidLadyAstwellcomplacently,andlookedwithsomemeaningatOwenTrefusis.
Onanotheroccasion,Poirotintroducedthegameoftracingfootprintsonasheetofpaper.Thefollowingmorning,goingwithhissoftcat-liketreadintothelibrary,thedetectivestartledOwenTrefusis,wholeapedfromhischairasthoughhehadbeenshot.
“Youmustreallyexcuseme,M.Poirot,”hesaidprimly,“butyouhaveusonthejump.”
“Indeed,howisthat?”demandedthelittlemaninnocently.
“Iwilladmit,”saidthesecretary,“thatIthoughtthecaseagainstCharlesLeversonutterlyoverwhelming.Youapparentlydonotfinditso.”
Poirotwasstandinglookingoutofthewindow.Heturnedsuddenlytotheother
“Ishalltellyousomething,M.Trefusis—inconfidence.”
“Yes?”
Poirotseemedinnohurrytobegin.Hewaitedaminute,hesitating.Whenhedidspeak,theopeningwordswerecoincidentwiththeopeningandshuttingofthefrontdoor.Foramansayingsomethinginconfidence,hespokeratherloudly,hisvoicedrowningthesoundofafootstepinthehalloutside.
“Ishalltellyouthisinconfidence,Mr.Trefusis.Thereisnewevidence.ItgoestoprovethatwhenCharlesLeversonenteredtheTowerroomthatnight,SirReubenwasalreadydead.”
Thesecretarystaredathim.
“Butwhatevidence?Whyhavewenotheardofit?”
“Youwillhear,”saidthelittlemanmysteriously.“Inthemeantime,youandIaloneknowthesecret.”
Heskippednimblyoutoftheroom,andalmostcollidedwithVictorAstwellinthehalloutside.
“Youhavejustcomein,eh,monsieur?”
Astwellnodded.
“Beastlydayoutside,”hesaidbreathinghard,“coldandblowy.”
“Ah,”saidPoirot,“Ishallnotpromenademyselftoday—me,Iamlikeacat,Isitbythefireandkeepmyselfwarm.”
“?amarche,George,”hesaidthateveningtothefaithfulvalet,rubbinghishandsashespoke,“theyareonthetenterhooks—thejump!Itishard,George,toplaythegameofthecat,thewaitinggame,butitanswers,yes,itanswerswonderfully.Tomorrowwemakeafurthereffect.”
Onthefollowingday,Trefusiswasobligedtogouptotown.HewentupbythesametrainasVictorAstwell.NosoonerhadtheyleftthehousethanPoirotwasgalvanizedintoafeverofactivity.
“Come,George,letushurrytowork.Ifthehousemaidshouldapproachtheserooms,youmustdelayher.Speaktohersweetnothings,George,andkeepherinthecorridor.”
Hewentfirsttothesecretary’sroom,andbeganathoroughsearch.Notadrawerorashelfwasleftuninspected.Thenhereplacedeverythinghurriedly,anddeclaredhisquestfinished.George,onguardinthedoorway,gavewaytoadeferentialcough.
“Ifyouwillexcuseme,sir?”
“Yes,mygoodGeorge?”
“Theshoes,sir.Thetwopairsofbrownshoeswereonthesecondshelf,andthepatentleatheroneswereontheshelfunderneath.Inreplacingthemyouhavereversedtheorder.”
“Marvellous!”criedPoirot,holdinguphishands.“Butletusnotdistressourselvesoverthat.Itisofnoimportance,Iassureyou,George.NeverwillM.Trefusisnoticesuchatriflingmatter.”
“Asyouthink,sir,”saidGeorge.
“Itisyourbusinesstonoticesuchthings,”saidPoirotencouraginglyasheclappedtheotherontheshoulder.“Itreflectscredituponyou.”
Thevaletdidnotreply,andwhen,laterintheday,theproceedingwasrepeatedintheroomofVictorAstwell,hemadenocommentonthefactthatMr.Astwell’sunderclothingwasnotreturnedtoitsdrawersstrictlyaccordingtoplan.Yet,inthesecondcaseatleast,eventsprovedthevalettoberightandPoirotwrong.VictorAstwellcamestormingintothedrawingroomthatevening.
“Now,lookhere,youblastedlittleBelgianjackanapes,whatdoyoumeanbysearchingmyroom?Whatthedevildoyouthinkyouaregoingtofindthere?Iwon’thaveit,doyouhear?That’swhatcomesofhavingaferretinglittlespyinthehouse.”
Poirot’shandsspreadthemselvesouteloquentlyashiswordstumbledoneovertheother.Heofferedahundredapologies,athousand,amillion.Hehadbeenmaladroit,officious,hewasconfused.Hehadtakenanunwarrantedliberty.Intheendtheinfuriatedgentlemanwasforcedtosubside,stillgrowling.
Andagainthatevening,sippinghistisane,PoirotmurmuredtoGeorge:
“Itmarches,mygoodGeorge,yes—itmarches.”
“Friday,”observedHerculePoirotthoughtfully,“ismyluckyday.”
“Indeed,sir.”
“Youarenotsuperstitious,perhaps,mygoodGeorge?”
“Iprefernottositdownthirteenattable,sir,andIamadversetopassingunderladders.IhavenosuperstitionsaboutaFriday,sir.”
“Thatiswell,”saidPoirot,“for,seeyou,todaywemakeourWaterloo.”
“Really,sir.”
“Youhavesuchenthusiasm,mygoodGeorge,youdonotevenaskwhatIproposetodo.”
“Andwhatisthat,sir?”
“Today,George,ImakeafinalthoroughsearchoftheTowerroom.”
Trueenough,afterbreakfast,Poirot,withthepermissionofLadyAstwell,wenttothesceneofthecrime.There,atvarioustimesofthemorning,membersofthehouseholdsawhimcrawlingaboutonallfours,examiningminutelytheblackvelvetcurtainsandstandingonhighchairstoexaminethepictureframesonthewall.LadyAstwellforthefirsttimedisplayeduneasiness.
“Ihavetoadmitit,”shesaid.“Heisgettingonmynervesatlast.Hehassomethinguphissleeve,andIdon’tknowwhatitis.Andthewayheiscrawlingaboutontheflooruptherelikeadogmakesmedownrightshivery.Whatishelookingfor,I’dliketoknow?Lily,mydear,Iwishyouwouldgoupandseewhatheisuptonow.No,onthewhole,I’dratheryoustayedwithme.”
“ShallIgo,LadyAstwell?”askedthesecretary,risingfromthedesk.
“Ifyouwould,Mr.Trefusis.”
OwenTrefusislefttheroomandmountedthestairstotheTowerroom.Atfirstglance,hethoughttheroomwasempty,therewascertainlynosignofHerculePoirotthere.Hewasjustreturningtogodownagainwhenasoundcaughthisears;hethensawthelittlemanhalfwaydownthespiralstaircasethatledtothebedroomabove.
Hewasonhishandsandknees;inhislefthandwasalittlepocketlens,andthroughthishewasexaminingminutelysomethingonthewoodworkbesidethestaircarpet.
Asthesecretarywatchedhim,heutteredasuddengrunt,andslippedthelensintohispocket.Hethenrosetohisfeet,holdingsomethingbetweenhisfingerandthumb.Atthatmomenthebecameawareofthesecretary’spresence.
“Ah,hah!M.Trefusis,Ididn’thearyouenter.”
Hewasinthatmomentadifferentman.Triumphandexultationbeamedalloverhisface.Trefusisstaredathiminsurprise.
“Whatisthematter,M.Poirot?Youlookverypleased.”
Thelittlemanpuffedouthischest.
“Yes,indeed.SeeyouIhaveatlastfoundthatwhichIhavebeenlookingforfromthebeginning.Ihaveherebetweenmyfingerandthumbtheonethingnecessarytoconvictthecriminal.”
“Then,”thesecretaryraisedhiseyebrows,“itwasnotCharlesLeverson?”
“ItwasnotCharlesLeverson,”saidPoirot.“Untilthismoment,thoughIknowthecriminal,Iamnotsureofhisname,butatlastallisclear.”
Hesteppeddownthestairsandtappedthesecretaryontheshoulder.
“IamobligedtogotoLondonimmediately.SpeaktoLadyAstwellforme.WillyourequestofherthateveryoneshouldbeassembledintheTowerroomthiseveningatnineo’clock?Ishallbetherethen,andIshallrevealthetruth.Ah,me,butIamwellcontent.”
Andbreakingintoafantasticlittledance,heskippedfromtheTowerroom.Trefusiswasleftstaringafterhim.
AfewminuteslaterPoirotappearedinthelibrary,demandingifanyonecouldsupplyhimwithalittlecardboardbox.
“Unfortunately,Ihavenotsuchathingwithme,”heexplained,“andthereissomethingofgreatvaluethatitisnecessaryformetoputinside.”
FromoneofthedrawersinthedeskTrefusisproducedasmallbox,andPoirotprofessedhimselfhighlydelightedwithit.
Hehurriedupstairswithhistreasuretrove;meetingGeorgeonthelanding,hehandedtheboxtohim.
“Thereissomethingofgreatimportanceinside,”heexplained.“Placeit,mygoodGeorge,intheseconddrawerofmydressingtable,besidethejewelcasethatcontainsmypearlstuds.”
“Verygood,sir,”saidGeorge.
“Donotbreakit,”saidPoirot.“Beverycareful.Insidethatboxissomethingthatwillhangacriminal.”
“Youdon’tsay,sir,”saidGeorge.
Poirothurrieddownthestairsagainand,seizinghishat,departedfromthehouseatabriskrun.
Hisreturnwasmoreunostentatious.ThefaithfulGeorge,accordingtoorders,admittedhimbythesidedoor.
“TheyareallintheTowerroom?”inquiredPoirot.
“Yes,sir.”
Therewasamurmuredinterchangeofafewwords,andthenPoirotmountedwiththetriumphantstepofthevictortothatroomwherethemurderhadtakenplacelessthanamonthago.Hiseyessweptaroundtheroom.Theywereallthere,LadyAstwell,VictorAstwell,LilyMargrave,thesecretary,andParsons,thebutler.Thelatterwashoveringbythedooruncertainly.
“George,sir,saidIshouldbeneededhere,”saidParsonsasPoirotmadehisappearance.“Idon’tknowifthatisright,sir?”
“Quiteright,”saidPoirot.“Remain,Iprayofyou.”
Headvancedtothemiddleoftheroom.
“Thishasbeenacaseofgreatinterest,”hesaidinaslow,reflectivevoice.“ItisinterestingbecauseanyonemighthavemurderedSirReubenAstwell.Whoinheritshismoney?CharlesLeversonandLadyAstwell.Whowaswithhimlastthatnight?LadyAstwell.Whoquarrelledwithhimviolently?AgainLadyAstwell.”
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”criedLadyAstwell.“Idon’tunderstand,I—”
“ButsomeoneelsequarrelledwithSirReuben,”continuedPoirotinapensivevoice.“Someoneelselefthimthatnightwhitewithrage.SupposingLadyAstwellleftherhusbandaliveataquartertotwelvethatnight,therewouldbetenminutesbeforeMr.CharlesLeversonreturned,tenminutesinwhichitwouldbepossibleforsomeonefromthesecondfloortostealdownanddothedeed,andthenreturntohisroomagain.”
VictorAstwellsprangupwithacry.
“Whatthehell—?”Hestopped,chokingwithrage.
“Inarage,Mr.Astwell,youoncekilledamaninWestAfrica.”
“Idon’tbelieveit,”criedLilyMargrave.
Shecameforward,herhandsclenched,twobrightspotsofcolourinhercheeks
“Idon’tbelieveit,”repeatedthegirl.ShecameclosetoVictorAstwell’sside.
“It’strue,Lily,”saidAstwell,“buttherearethingsthismandoesn’tknow.ThefellowIkilledwasawitchdoctorwhohadjustmassacredfifteenchildren.IconsiderthatIwasjustified.”
LilycameuptoPoirot.
“M.Poirot,”shesaidearnestly,“youarewrong.Becauseamanhasasharptemper,becausehebreaksoutandsaysallkindsofthings,thatisnotanyreasonwhyheshoulddoamurder.Iknow—Iknow,Itellyou—thatMr.Astwellisincapableofsuchathing.”
Poirotlookedather,averycurioussmileonhisface.Thenhetookherhandinhisandpatteditgently.
“Yousee,Mademoiselle,”hesaidgently,“youalsohaveyourintuitions.SoyoubelieveinMr.Astwell,doyou?”
Lilyspokequietly.
“Mr.Astwellisagoodman,”shesaid,“andheishonest.HehadnothingtodowiththeinsideworkoftheMpalaGoldFields.Heisgoodthroughandthrough,and—Ihavepromisedtomarryhim.”
VictorAstwellcametohersideandtookherotherhand.
“BeforeGod,M.Poirot,”hesaid,“Ididn’tkillmybrother.”
“Iknowyoudidnot,”saidPoirot.
Hiseyessweptaroundtheroom.
“Listen,myfriends.Inahypnotictrance,LadyAstwellmentionedhavingseenabulgeinthecurtainthatnight.”
Everyone’seyesswepttothewindow.
“Youmeantherewasaburglarconcealedthere?”exclaimedVictorAstwell.“Whatasplendidsolution!”
“Ah,”saidPoirotgently.“Butitwasnotthatcurtain.”
Hewheeledaroundandpointedtothecurtainthatmaskedthelittlestaircase.
“SirReubenusedthebedroomthenightpriortothecrime.Hebreakfastedinbed,andhehadMr.Trefusisuptheretogivehiminstructions.Idon’tknowwhatitwasthatMr.Trefusisleftinthatbedroom,buttherewassomething.WhenhesaidgoodnighttoSirReubenandLadyAstwell,herememberedthisthingandranupthestairstofetchit.Idon’tthinkeitherthehusbandorwifenoticedhim,fortheyhadalreadybegunaviolentdiscussion.TheywereinthemiddleofthisquarrelwhenMr.Trefusiscamedownthestairsagain.
“ThethingstheyweresayingtoeachotherwereofsointimateandpersonalanaturethatMr.Trefusiswasplacedinaveryawkwardposition.Itwascleartohimthattheyimaginedhehadlefttheroomsometimeago.FearingtoarouseSirReuben’sangeragainsthimself,hedecidedtoremainwherehewasandslipoutlater.Hestayedtherebehindthecurtain,andasLadyAstwelllefttheroomshesubconsciouslynoticedtheoutlineofhisformthere.
“WhenLadyAstwellhadlefttheroom,Trefusistriedtostealoutunobserved,butSirReubenhappenedtoturnhishead,andbecameawareofthesecretary’spresence.Alreadyinabadtemper,SirReubenhurledabuseathissecretary,andaccusedhimofdeliberatelyeavesdroppingandspying.
“MessieursandMesdames,Iamastudentofpsychology.AllthroughthiscaseIhavelooked,notforthebad-temperedmanorwoman,forbadtemperisitsownsafetyvalve.Hewhocanbarkdoesnotbite.No,Ihavelookedforthegood-temperedman,forthemanwhoispatientandself-controlled,forthemanwhofornineyearshasplayedthepartoftheunderdog.Thereisnostrainsogreatasthatwhichhasenduredforyears,thereisnoresentmentlikethatwhichaccumulatesslowly.
“FornineyearsSirReubenhasbulliedandbrowbeatenhissecretary,andfornineyearsthatmanhasenduredinsilence.Buttherecomesadaywhenatlastthestrainreachesitsbreakingpoint.Somethingsnaps!Itwassothatnight.SirReubensatdownathisdeskagain,butthesecretary,insteadofturninghumblyandmeeklytothedoor,picksuptheheavywoodenclub,andstrikesdownthemanwhohadbulliedhimoncetoooften.”
HeturnedtoTrefusis,whowasstaringathimasthoughturnedtostone.
“Itwassosimple,youralibi.Mr.Astwellthoughtyouwereinyourroom,butnoonesawyougothere.YouwerejuststealingoutafterstrikingdownSirReubenwhenyouheardasound,andyouhastenedbacktocover,behindthecurtain.YouwerebehindtherewhenCharlesLeversonenteredtheroom,youweretherewhenLilyMargravecame.Itwasnottilllongafterthatthatyoucreptupthroughasilenthousetoyourbedroom.Doyoudenyit?”
Trefusisbegantostammer.
“I—Inever—”
“Ah!Letusfinishthis.FortwoweeksnowIhaveplayedthecomedy.Ihaveshowedyouthenetclosingslowlyaroundyou.Thefingerprints,footprints,thesearchofyourroomwiththethingsartisticallyreplaced.Ihavestruckterrorintoyouwithallofthis;youhavelainawakeatnightfearingandwondering;didyouleaveafingerprintintheroomorafootprintsomewhere?
“Againandagainyouhavegoneovertheeventsofthatnightwonderingwhatyouhavedoneorleftundone,andsoIbroughtyoutothestatewhereyoumadeaslip.IsawthefearleapintoyoureyestodaywhenIpickedupsomethingfromthestairswhereyouhadstoodhiddenthatnight.ThenImadeagreatparade,thelittlebox,theentrustingofittoGeorge,andIgoout.”
Poirotturnedtowardsthedoor.
“George?”
“Iamhere,sir.”
Thevaletcameforward.
“Willyoutelltheseladiesandgentlemenwhatmyinstructionswere?”
“Iwastoremainconcealedinthewardrobeinyourroom,sir,havingplacedthecardboardboxwhereyoutoldmeto.Athalfpastthreethisafternoon,sir,Mr.Trefusisenteredtheroom;hewenttothedrawerandtookouttheboxinquestion.”
“Andinthatbox,”continuedPoirot,“wasacommonpin.Me,Ispeakalwaysthetruth.Ididpickupsomethingonthestairsthismorning.ThatisyourEnglishsaying,isitnot?‘Seeapinandpickitup,allthedayyou’llhavegoodluck.’Me,Ihavehadgoodluck,Ihavefoundthemurderer.”
Heturnedtothesecretary.
“Yousee?”hesaidgently.“Youbetrayedyourself.”
SuddenlyTrefusisbrokedown.Hesankintoachairsobbing,hisfaceburiedinhishands.
“Iwasmad,”hegroaned.“Iwasmad.But,oh,myGod,hebadgeredandbulliedmebeyondbearing.ForyearsIhadhatedandloathedhim.”
“Iknew!”criedLadyAstwell.
Shesprangforward,herfaceirradiatedwithsavagetriumph.
“Iknewthatmanhaddoneit.”
Shestoodthere,savageandtriumphant.
“Andyouwereright,”saidPoirot.“Onemaycallthingsbydifferentnames,butthefactremains.Your‘intuition,’LadyAstwell,provedcorrect.Ifelicitateyou.”
Two
THEPLYMOUTHEXPRESS
I
AlecSimpson,RN,steppedfromtheplatformatNewtonAbbotintoafirst-classcompartmentofthePlymouthExpress.Aporterfollowedhimwithaheavysuitcase.Hewasabouttoswingituptotherack,buttheyoungsailorstoppedhim.
“No—leaveitontheseat.I’llputituplater.Hereyouare.”
“Thankyou,sir.”Theporter,generouslytipped,withdrew.
Doorsbanged;astentorianvoiceshouted:“Plymouthonly.ChangeforTorquay.Plymouthnextstop.”Thenawhistleblew,andthetraindrewslowlyoutofthestation.
LieutenantSimpsonhadthecarriagetohimself.TheDecemberairwaschilly,andhepulledupthewindow.Thenhesniffedvaguely,andfrowned.Whatasmelltherewas!Remindedhimofthattimeinhospital,andtheoperationonhisleg.Yes,chloroform;thatwasit!
Heletthewindowdownagain,changinghisseattoonewithitsbacktotheengine.Hepulledapipeoutofhispocketandlitit.Foralittletimehesatinactive,lookingoutintothenightandsmoking.
Atlastherousedhimself,andopeningthesuitcase,tookoutsomepapersandmagazines,thenclosedthesuitcaseagainandendeavouredtoshoveitundertheoppositeseat—withoutsuccess.Someobstacleresistedit.Heshovedharderwithrisingimpatience,butitstillstuckouthalfwayintothecarriage.
“Whythedevilwon’titgoin?”hemuttered,andhaulingitoutcompletely,hestoopeddownandpeeredundertheseat….
Amomentlateracryrangoutintothenight,andthegreattraincametoanunwillinghaltinobediencetotheimperativejerkingofthecommunicationcord
II
“Monami,”saidPoirot,“youhave,Iknow,beendeeplyinterestedinthismysteryofthePlymouthExpress.Readthis.”
Ipickedupthenoteheflickedacrossthetabletome.Itwasbriefandtothepoint.
DearSir,Ishallbeobligedifyouwillcalluponmeatyourearliestconvenience.Yoursfaithfully,EbenezerHalliday
Theconnectionwasnotcleartomymind,andIlookedinquiringlyatPoirot.
Foranswerhetookupthenewspaperandreadaloud:“‘Asensationaldiscoverywasmadelastnight.AyoungnavalofficerreturningtoPlymouthfoundundertheseatofhiscompartmentthebodyofawoman,stabbedthroughtheheart.Theofficeratoncepulledthecommunicationcord,andthetrainwasbroughttoastandstill.Thewoman,whowasaboutthirtyyearsofage,andrichlydressed,hasnotyetbeenidentified.’
“Andlaterwehavethis:‘ThewomanfounddeadinthePlymouthExpresshasbeenidentifiedastheHonourableMrs.RupertCarrington.’Youseenow,myfriend?OrifyoudonotIwilladdthis—Mrs.RupertCarringtonwas,beforehermarriage,FlossieHalliday,daughterofoldmanHalliday,thesteelkingofAmerica.”
“Andhehassentforyou?Splendid!”
“Ididhimalittleserviceinthepast—anaffairofbearerbonds.Andonce,whenIwasinParisforaroyalvisit,IhadMademoiselleFlossiepointedouttome.Lajoliepetitepensionnaire!Shehadthejolidottoo!Itcausedtrouble.Shenearlymadeabadaffair.”
“Howwasthat?”
“AcertainCountdelaRochefour.Unbienmauvaissujet!Abadhat,asyouwouldsay.Anadventurerpureandsimple,whoknewhowtoappealtoaromanticyounggirl.Luckilyherfathergotwindofitintime.HetookherbacktoAmericainhaste.Iheardofhermarriagesomeyearslater,butIknownothingofherhusband.”
“H’m,”Isaid.“TheHonourableRupertCarringtonisnobeauty,byallaccounts.He’dprettywellrunthroughhisownmoneyontheturf,andIshouldimagineoldmanHalliday’sdollarscamealonginthenickoftime.Ishouldsaythatforagood-looking,well-mannered,utterlyunscrupulousyoungscoundrel,itwouldbehardtofindhismate!”
“Ah,thepoorlittlelady!Ellen’estpasbientombée!”
“Ifancyhemadeitprettyobviousatoncethatitwashermoney,andnotshe,thathadattactedhim.Ibelievetheydriftedapartalmostatonce.Ihaveheardrumourslatelythattherewastobeadefinitelegalseparation.”
“OldmanHallidayisnofool.Hewouldtieuphermoneyprettytight.”
“Idaresay.Anyway,IknowasafactthattheHonourableRupertissaidtobeextremelyhardup.”
“Aha!Iwonder—”
“Youwonderwhat?”
“Mygoodfriend,donotjumpdownmythroatlikethat.Youareinterested,Isee.SupposeyouaccompanymetoseeMr.Halliday.Thereisataxistandatthecorner.”
III
AfewminutessufficedtowhirlustothesuperbhouseinParkLanerentedbytheAmericanmagnate.Wewereshownintothelibrary,andalmostimmediatelywewerejoinedbyalargestoutman,withpiercingeyesandanaggressivechin.
“M.Poirot?”saidMr.Halliday.“IguessIdon’tneedtotellyouwhatIwantyoufor.You’vereadthepapers,andI’mneveronetoletthegrassgrowundermyfeet.IhappenedtohearyouwereinLondon,andIrememberedthegoodworkyoudidoverthosebombs.Neverforgetaname.I’vethepickofScotlandYard,butI’llhavemyownmanaswell.Moneynoobject.Allthedollarsweremadeformylittlegirl—andnowshe’sgone,I’llspendmylastcenttocatchthedamnedscoundrelthatdidit!See?Soit’suptoyoutodeliverthegoods.”
Poirotbowed.
“Iaccept,monsieur,allthemorewillinglythatIsawyourdaughterinParisseveraltimes.AndnowIwillaskyoutotellmethecircumstancesofherjourneytoPlymouthandanyotherdetailsthatseemtoyoutobearuponthecase.”
“Well,tobeginwith,”respondedHalliday,“shewasn’tgoingtoPlymouth.ShewasgoingtojoinahousepartyatAvonmeadCourt,theDuchessofSwansea’splace.SheleftLondonbythetwelve-fourteenfromPaddington,arrivingatBristol(whereshehadtochange)attwo-fifty.TheprincipalPlymouthexpresses,ofcourse,runviaWestbury,anddonotgonearBristolatall.Thetwelve-fourteendoesanon-stopruntoBristol,afterwardsstoppingatWeston,Taunton,ExeterandNewtonAbbot.Mydaughtertravelledaloneinhercarriage,whichwasreservedasfarasBristol,hermaidbeinginathird-classcarriageinthenextcoach.”
Poirotnodded,andMr.Hallidaywenton:“ThepartyatAvonmeadCourtwastobeaverygayone,withseveralballs,andinconsequencemydaughterhadwithhernearlyallherjewels—amountinginvalue,perhaps,toaboutahundredthousanddollars.”
“Unmoment,”interruptedPoirot.“Whohadchargeofthejewels?Yourdaughter,orthemaid?”
“Mydaughteralwaystookchargeofthemherself,carryingtheminasmallbluemoroccocase.”
“Continue,monsieur.”
“AtBristolthemaid,JaneMason,collectedhermistress’sdressingbagandwraps,whichwerewithher,andcametothedoorofFlossie’scompartment.Toherintensesurprise,mydaughtertoldherthatshewasnotgettingoutatBristol,butwasgoingonfarther.ShedirectedMasontogetouttheluggageandputitinthecloakroom.Shecouldhaveteaintherefreshmentroom,butshewastowaitatthestationforhermistress,whowouldreturntoBristolbyanup-traininthecourseoftheafternoon.Themaid,althoughverymuchastonished,didasshewastold.Sheputtheluggageinthecloakroomandhadsometea.Butup-trainafterup-traincamein,andhermistressdidnotappear.After
“Istherenothingtoaccountforyourdaughter’ssuddenchangeofplan?”
“Wellthereisthis:AccordingtoJaneMason,atBristol,Flossiewasnolongeraloneinhercarriage.Therewasamaninitwhostoodlookingoutofthefartherwindowsothatshecouldnotseehisface.”
“Thetrainwasacorridorone,ofcourse?”
“Yes.”
“Whichsidewasthecorridor?”
“Ontheplatformside.MydaughterwasstandinginthecorridorasshetalkedtoMason.”
“Andthereisnodoubtinyourmind—excuseme!”Hegotup,andcarefullystraightenedtheinkstandwhichwasalittleaskew.“Jevousdemandepardon,”hecontinued,re-seatinghimself.“Itaffectsmynervestoseeanythingcrooked.Strange,isitnot?Iwassaying,monsieur,thatthereisnodoubtinyourmindastothisprobablyunexpectedmeetingbeingthecauseofyourdaughter’ssuddenchangeofplan?”
“Itseemstheonlyreasonablesupposition.”
“Youhavenoideaastowhothegentlemaninquestionmightbe?”
Themillionairehesitatedforamoment,andthenreplied:“No—Idonotknowatall.”
“Now—astothediscoveryofthebody?”
“Itwasdiscoveredbyayoungnavalofficerwhoatoncegavethealarm.Therewasadoctoronthetrain.Heexaminedthebody.Shehadbeenfirstchloroformed,andthenstabbed.Hegaveitashisopinionthatshehadbeendeadaboutfourhours,soitmusthavebeendonenotlongafterleavingBristol—probablybetweenthereandWeston,possiblybetweenWestonandTaunton.”
“Andthejewelcase?”
“Thejewelcase,M.Poirot,wasmissing.”
“Onethingmore,monsieur.Yourdaughter’sfortune—towhomdoesitpassatherdeath?”
“Flossiemadeawillsoonafterhermarriage,leavingeverythingtoherhusband.”Hehesitatedforaminute,andthenwenton:“Imayaswelltellyou,MonsieurPoirot,thatIregardmyson-in-lawasanunprincipledscoundrel,andthat,bymyadvice,mydaughterwasontheeveoffreeingherselffromhimbylegalmeans—nodifficultmatter.Isettledhermoneyuponherinsuchawaythathecouldnottouchitduringherlifetime,butalthoughtheyhavelivedentirelyapartforsomeyears,shehadfrequentlyaccededtohisdemandsformoney,ratherthanfaceanopenscandal.However,Iwasdeterminedtoputanendtothis.AtlastFlossieagreed,andmylawyerswereinstructedtotakeproceedings.”
“AndwhereisMonsieurCarrington?”
“Intown.Ibelievehewasawayinthecountryyesterday,buthereturnedlastnight.”
Poirotconsideredalittlewhile.Thenhesaid:“Ithinkthatisall,monsieur.”
“Youwouldliketoseethemaid,JaneMason?”
“Ifyouplease.”
Hallidayrangthebell,andgaveashortordertothefootman.
AfewminuteslaterJaneMasonenteredtheroom,arespectable,hard-featuredwoman,asemotionlessinthefaceoftragedyasonlyagoodservantcanbe.
“Youwillpermitmetoputafewquestions?Yourmistress,shewasquiteasusualbeforestartingyesterdaymorning?Notexcitedorflurried?”
“Ohno,sir!”
“ButatBristolshewasquitedifferent?”
“Yes,sir,regularupset—sonervousshedidn’tseemtoknowwhatshewassaying.”
“Whatdidshesayexactly?”
“Well,sir,asnearasIcanremember,shesaid:‘Mason,I’vegottoaltermyplans.Somethinghashappened—Imean,I’mnotgettingouthereafterall.Imustgoon.Getouttheluggageandputitinthecloakroom;thenhavesometea,andwaitformeinthestation.’
“‘Waitforyouhere,ma’am?’Iasked.
“‘Yes,yes.Don’tleavethestation.Ishallreturnbyalatertrain.Idon’tknowwhen.Itmayn’tbeuntilquitelate.’
“‘Verywell,ma’am,’Isays.Itwasn’tmyplacetoaskquestions,butIthoughtitverystrange.”
“Itwasunlikeyourmistress,eh?”
“Veryunlikeher,sir.”
“Whatdoyouthink?”
“Well,sir,Ithoughtitwastodowiththegentlemaninthecarriage.Shedidn’tspeaktohim,butsheturnedroundonceortwiceasthoughtoaskhimifshewasdoingright.”
“Butyoudidn’tseethegentleman’sface?”
“No,sir;hestoodwithhisbacktomeallthetime.”
“Canyoudescribehimatall?”
“Hehadonalightfawnovercoat,andatravelling-cap.Hewastallandslender,likeandthebackofhisheadwasdark.”
“Youdidn’tknowhim?”
“Ohno,Idon’tthinkso,sir.”
“Itwasnotyourmaster,Mr.Carrington,byanychance?”
Masonlookedratherstartled.
“Oh,Idon’tthinkso,sir!”
“Butyouarenotsure?”
“Itwasaboutthemaster’sbuild,sir—butIneverthoughtofitbeinghim.Wesoseldomsawhim…Icouldn’tsayitwasn’thim!”
Poirotpickedupapinfromthecarpet,andfrownedatitseverely;thenhecontinued:“WoulditbepossibleforthemantohaveenteredthetrainatBristolbeforeyoureachedthecarriage?”
Masonconsidered.
“Yes,sir,Ithinkitwould.Mycompartmentwasverycrowded,anditwassomeminutesbeforeIcouldgetout—andthentherewasaverylargecrowdontheplatform,andthatdelayedmetoo.Buthe’donlyhavehadaminuteortwotospeaktothemistress,thatway.Itookitforgrantedthathe’dcomealongthecorridor.”
“Thatismoreprobable,certainly.”
Hepaused,stillfrowning.
“Youknowhowthemistresswasdressed,sir?”
“Thepapersgiveafewdetails,butIwouldlikeyoutoconfirmthem.”
“Shewaswearingawhitefoxfurtoque,sir,withawhitespottedveil,andabluefriezecoatandskirt—theshadeofbluetheycallelectric.”
“H’m,ratherstriking.”
“Yes,”remarkedMr.Halliday.“InspectorJappisinhopesthatthatmayhelpustofixthespotwherethecrimetookplace.Anyonewhosawherwouldrememberher.”
“Précisément!—Thankyou,mademoiselle.”
Themaidlefttheroom.
“Well!”Poirotgotupbriskly.“ThatisallIcandohere—except,monsieur,thatIwouldaskyoutotellmeeverything,buteverything!”
“Ihavedoneso.”
“Youaresure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Thenthereisnothingmoretobesaid.Imustdeclinethecase.”
“Why?”
“Becauseyouhavenotbeenfrankwithme.”
“Iassureyou—”
“No,youarekeepingsomethingback.”
Therewasamoment’spause,andthenHallidaydrewapaperfromhispocketandhandedittomyfriend.
“Iguessthat’swhatyou’reafter,MonsieurPoirot—thoughhowyouknowaboutitfairlygetsmygoat!”
Poirotsmiled,andunfoldedthepaper.Itwasaletterwritteninthinslopinghandwriting.Poirotreaditaloud.
“ChèreMadame,ItiswithinfinitepleasurethatIlookforwardtothefelicityofmeetingyouagain.Afteryoursoamiablereplytomyletter,Icanhardlyrestrainmyimpatience.IhaveneverforgottenthosedaysinParis.ItismostcruelthatyoushouldbeleavingLondontomorrow.However,beforeverylong,andperhapssoonerthanyouthink,Ishallhavethejoyofbeholdingoncemoretheladywhoseimagehaseverreignedsupremeinmyheart.Believe,chèremadame,alltheassurancesofmymostdevotedandunalteredsentiments—ArmanddelaRochefour.”
PoirothandedtheletterbacktoHallidaywithabow.
“Ifancy,monsieur,thatyoudidnotknowthatyourdaughterintendedrenewingheracquaintancewiththeCountdelaRochefour?”
“Itcameasathunderbolttome!Ifoundthisletterinmydaughter’shandbag.Asyouprobablyknow,MonsieurPoirot,thisso-calledcountisanadventureroftheworsttype.”
Poirotnodded.
“ButIwanttoknowhowyouknewoftheexistenceofthisletter?”
Myfriendsmiled.“Monsieur,Ididnot.Buttotrackfootmarksandrecognizecigaretteashisnotsufficientforadetective.Hemustalsobeagoodpsychologist!Iknewthatyoudislikedandmistrustedyourson-in-law.Hebenefitsbyyourdaughter’sdeath;themaid’sdescriptionofthemysteriousmanbearsasufficientresemblancetohim.Yetyouarenotkeenonhistrack!Why?Surelybecauseyoursuspicionslieinanotherdirection.Thereforeyouwerekeepingsomethingback.”
“You’reright,MonsieurPoirot.IwassureofRupert’sguiltuntilIfoundthisletter.Itunsettledmehorribly.”
“Yes.TheCountsays‘Beforeverylong,andperhapssoonerthanyouthink.’Obviouslyhewouldnotwanttowaituntilyoushouldgetwindofhisreappearance.WasithewhotravelleddownfromLondonbythetwelve-fourteen,andcamealongthecorridortoyourdaughter’scompartment?TheCountdelaRochefourisalso,ifIrememberrightly,tallanddark!”
Themillionairenodded.
“Well,monsieur,Iwillwishyougoodday.ScotlandYardhas,Ipresume,alistofthejewels?”
“Yes,IbelieveInspectorJappisherenowifyouwouldliketoseehim.”
IV
Jappwasanoldfriendofours,andgreetedPoirotwithasortofaffectionatecontempt.
“Andhowareyou,monsieur?Nobadfeelingbetweenus,thoughwehavegotourdifferentwaysoflookingatthings.Howarethe‘littlegreycells,’eh?Goingstrong?”
Poirotbeameduponhim.“Theyfunction,mygoodJapp;assuredlytheydo!”
“Thenthat’sallright.ThinkitwastheHonourableRupert,oracrook?We’rekeepinganeyeonalltheregularplaces,ofcourse.Weshallknowiftheshinersaredisposedof,andofcoursewhoeverdiditisn’tgoingtokeepthemtoadmiretheirsparkle.Notlikely!I’mtryingtofindoutwhereRupertCarringtonwasyesterday.Seemsabitofamysteryaboutit.I’vegotamanwatchinghim.”
“Agreatprecaution,butperhapsadaylate,”suggestedPoirotgently.
“Youalwayswillhaveyourjoke,MonsieurPoirot.Well,I’mofftoPaddington.Bristol,Weston,Taunton,that’smybeat.Solong.”
“Youwillcomeroundandseemethisevening,andtellmetheresult?”
“Surething,ifI’mback.”
“Thegoodinspectorbelievesinmatterinmotion,”murmuredPoirotasourfrienddeparted.“Hetravels;hemeasuresfootprints;hecollectsmudandcigaretteash!Heisextremelybusy!Heiszealousbeyondwords!AndifImentionedpsychologytohim,doyouknowwhathewoulddo,myfriend?Hewouldsmile!Hewouldsaytohimself:‘PooroldPoirot!Heages!Hegrowssenile!’Jappisthe‘youngergenerationknockingonthedoor.’Andmafoi!Theyaresobusyknockingthattheydonotnoticethatthedoorisopen!”
“Andwhatareyougoingtodo?”
“Aswehavecarteblanche,IshallexpendthreepenceinringinguptheRitz—whereyoumayhavenoticedourCountisstaying.Afterthat,asmyfeetarealittledamp,andIhavesneezedtwice,Ishallreturntomyroomsandmakemyselfatisaneoverthespiritlamp!”
V
IdidnotseePoirotagainuntilthefollowingmorning.Ifoundhimplacidlyfinishinghisbreakfast.
“Well?”Iinquiredeagerly.“Whathashappened?”
“Nothing.”
“ButJapp?”
“Ihavenotseenhim.”
“TheCount?”
“HelefttheRitzthedaybeforeyesterday.”
“Thedayofthemurder?”
“Yes.”
“Thenthatsettlesit!RupertCarringtoniscleared.”
“BecausetheCountdelaRochefourhaslefttheRitz?Yougotoofast,myfriend.”
“Anyway,hemustbefollowed,arrested!Butwhatcouldbehismotive?”
“Onehundredthousanddollars’worthofjewelleryisaverygoodmotiveforanyone.No,thequestiontomymindis:whykillher?Whynotsimplystealthejewels?Shewouldnotprosecute.”
“Whynot?”
“Becausesheisawoman,monami.Sheoncelovedthisman.Thereforeshewouldsufferherlossinsilence.AndtheCount,whoisanextremelygoodpsychologistwherewomenareconcerned—hencehissuccesses—wouldknowthatperfectlywell!Ontheotherhand,ifRupertCarringtonkilledher,whytakethejewelswhichwouldincriminatehimfatally?”
“Asablind.”
“Perhapsyouareright,myfriend.Ah,hereisJapp!Irecognizehisknock.”
Theinspectorwasbeaminggood-humouredly.
“Morning,Poirot.Onlyjustgotback.I’vedonesomegoodwork!Andyou?”
“Me,Ihavearrangedmyideas,”repliedPoirotplacidly.
Japplaughedheartily.
“Oldchap’sgettingoninyears,”heobservedbeneathhisbreathtome.“Thatwon’tdoforusyoungfolk,”hesaidaloud.
“Queldommage?”Poirotinquired.
“Well,doyouwanttohearwhatI’vedone?”
“Youpermitmetomakeaguess?Youhavefoundtheknifewithwhichthecrimewascommitted,bythesideofthelinebetweenWestonandTaunton,andyouhaveinterviewedthepaperboywhospoketoMrs.CarringtonatWeston!”
Japp’sjawfell.“Howonearthdidyouknow?Don’ttellmeitwasthosealmighty‘littlegreycells’ofyours!”
“Iamgladyouadmitforoncethattheyareallmighty!Tellme,didshegivethepaperboyashillingforhimself?”
“No,itwashalfacrown!”Japphadrecoveredhistemper,andgrinned.“Prettyextravagant,theserichAmericans!”
“Andinconsequencetheboydidnotforgether?”
“Nothe.Half-crownsdon’tcomehiswayeveryday.Shehailedhimandboughttwomagazines.Onehadapictureofagirlinblueonthecover.‘That’llmatchme,’shesaid.Oh,herememberedherperfectly.Well,thatwasenoughforme.Bythedoctor’sevidence,thecrimemusthavebeencommittedbeforeTaunton.Iguessedthey’dthrowtheknifeawayatonce,andIwalkeddownthelinelookingforit;andsureenough,thereitwas.ImadeinquiriesatTauntonaboutourman,butofcourseit’sabigstation,anditwasn’tlikelythey’dnoticehim.HeprobablygotbacktoLondonbyalatertrain.”
Poirotnodded.“Verylikely.”
“ButIfoundanotherbitofnewswhenIgotback.They’repassingthejewels,allright!Thatlargeemeraldwaspawnedlastnight—byoneoftheregularlot.Whodoyouthinkitwas?”
“Idon’tknow—exceptthathewasashortman.”
Jappstared.“Well,you’rerightthere.He’sshortenough.ItwasRedNarky.”
“WhoisRedNarky?”Iasked.
“Aparticularlysharpjewelthief,sir.Andnotonetostickatmurder.Usuallyworkswithawoman—GracieKidd;butshedoesn’tseemtobeinitthistime—unlessshe’sgotofftoHollandwiththerestoftheswag.”
“You’vearrestedNarky?”
“Surething.Butmindyou,it’stheothermanwewant—themanwhowentdownwithMrs.Carringtoninthetrain.Hewastheonewhoplannedthejob,rightenough.ButNarkywon’tsquealonapal.”
InoticedPoirot’seyeshadbecomeverygreen.
“Ithink,”hesaidgently,“thatIcanfindNarky’spalforyou,allright.”
“Oneofyourlittleideas,eh?”JappeyedPoirotsharply.“Wonderfulhowyoumanagetodeliverthegoodssometimes,atyourageandall.Devil’sownluck,ofcourse.”
“Perhaps,perhaps,”murmuredmyfriend.“Hastings,myhat.Andthebrush.So!Mygaloshes,ifitstillrains!Wemustnotundothegoodworkofthattisane.Aurevoir,Japp!”
“Goodlucktoyou,Poirot.”
Poirothailedthefirsttaxiwemet,anddirectedthedrivertoParkLane.
WhenwedrewupbeforeHalliday’shouse,heskippedoutnimbly,paidthedriverandrangthebell.Tothefootmanwhoopenedthedoorhemadearequestinalowvoice,andwewereimmediatelytakenupstairs.Wewentuptothetopofthehouse,andwereshownintoasmallneatbedroom.
Poirot’seyesrovedroundtheroomandfastenedthemselvesonasmallblacktrunk.Hekneltinfrontofit,scrutinizedthelabelsonit,andtookasmalltwistofwirefromhispocket.
“AskMr.Hallidayifhewillbesokindastomounttomehere,”hesaidoverhisshouldertothefootman.
Themandeparted,andPoirotgentlycoaxedthelockofthetrunkwithapractisedhand.Inafewminutesthelockgave,andheraisedthelidofthetrunk.Swiftlyhebeganrummagingamongtheclothesitcontained,flingingthemoutonthefloor.
Therewasaheavysteponthestairs,andHallidayenteredtheroom.
“Whatinhellareyoudoinghere?”hedemanded,staring.
“Iwaslooking,monsieur,forthis.”Poirotwithdrewfromthetrunkacoatandskirtofbrightbluefrieze,andasmalltoqueofwhitefoxfur.
“Whatareyoudoingwithmytrunk?”Iturnedtoseethatthemaid,JaneMason,hadenteredtheroom.
“Ifyouwilljustshutthedoor,Hastings.Thankyou.Yes,andstandwithyourbackagainstit.Now,Mr.Halliday,letmeintroduceyoutoGracieKidd,otherwiseJaneMason,whowillshortlyrejoinheraccomplice,RedNarky,underthekindescortofInspectorJapp.”
VI
Poirotwavedadeprecatinghand.“Itwasofthemostsimple!”Hehelpedhimselftomorecaviar.
“Itwasthemaid’sinsistenceontheclothesthathermistresswaswearingthatfirststruckme.Whywasshesoanxiousthatourattentionshouldbedirectedtothem?Ireflectedthatwehadonlythemaid’swordforthemysteriousmaninthecarriageatBristol.Asfarasthedoctor’sevidencewent,Mrs.CarringtonmighteasilyhavebeenmurderedbeforereachingBristol.Butifso,thenthemaidmustbeanaccomplice.Andifshewereanaccomplice,shewouldnotwishthispointtorestonherevidencealone.TheclothesMrs.Carringtonwaswearingwereofastrikingnature.Amaidusuallyhasagooddealofchoiceastowhathermistressshallwear.Nowif,afterBristol,anyonesawaladyinabrightbluecoatandskirt,andafurtoque,hewillbequitereadytoswearhehadseenMrs.Carrington.
“Ibegantoreconstruct.Themaidwouldprovideherselfwithduplicateclothes.SheandheraccomplicechloroformandstabMrs.CarringtonbetweenLondonandBristol,probablytakingadvantageofatunnel.Herbodyisrolledundertheseat;andthemaidtakesherplace.AtWestonshemustmakeherselfnoticed.How?Inallprobability,anewspaperboywillbeselected.Shewillinsurehisrememberingherbygivinghimalargetip.Shealsodrewhisattentiontothecolourofherdressbyaremarkaboutoneofthemagazines.AfterleavingWeston,shethrowstheknifeoutofthewindowtomarktheplacewherethecrimepresumablyoccurred,andchangesherclothes,orbuttonsalongmackintoshoverthem.AtTauntonsheleavesthetrainandreturnstoBristolassoonaspossible,whereheraccomplicehasdulylefttheluggageinthecloakroom.HehandsovertheticketandhimselfreturnstoLondon.Shewaitsontheplatform,carryingoutherrole,goestoahotelforthenightandreturnstotowninthemorning,exactlyasshesaid.
“WhenJappreturnedfromhisexpedition,heconfirmedallmydeductions.Healsotoldmethatawell-knowncrookwaspassingthejewels.IknewthatwhoeveritwaswouldbetheexactoppositeofthemanJaneMasondescribed.WhenIheardthatitwasRedNarky,whoalwaysworkedwithGracieKidd—well,Iknewjustwheretofindher.”
“AndtheCount?”
“ThemoreIthoughtofit,themoreIwasconvincedthathehadnothingtodowithit.Thatgentlemanismuchtoocarefulofhisownskintoriskmurder.Itwouldbeoutofkeepingwithhischaracter.”
“Well,MonsieurPoirot,”saidHalliday,“Ioweyouabigdebt.AndthechequeIwriteafterlunchwon’tgoneartosettlingit.”
Poirotsmiledmodestly,andmurmuredtome:“ThegoodJapp,heshallgettheofficialcredit,allright,butthoughhehasgothisGracieKidd,IthinkthatI,astheAmericanssay,havegothisgoat!”
Three
THEAFFAIRATTHEVICTORYBALL
I
PurechanceledmyfriendHerculePoirot,formerlychiefoftheBelgianforce,tobeconnectedwiththeStylesCase.Hissuccessbroughthimnotoriety,andhedecidedtodevotehimselftothesolvingofproblemsincrime.HavingbeenwoundedontheSommeandinvalidedoutoftheArmy,IfinallytookupmyquarterswithhiminLondon.SinceIhaveafirsthandknowledgeofmostofhiscases,ithasbeensuggestedtomethatIselectsomeofthemostinterestingandplacethemonrecord.Indoingso,IfeelthatIcannotdobetterthanbeginwiththatstrangetanglewhicharousedsuchwidespreadpublicinterestatthetime.IrefertotheaffairattheVictoryBall.
AlthoughperhapsitisnotsofullydemonstrativeofPoirot’speculiarmethodsassomeofthemoreobscurecases,itssensationalfeatures,thewell-knownpeopleinvolved,andthetremendouspublicitygivenitbythepress,makeitstandoutasacausecélèbreandIhavelongfeltthatitisonlyfittingthatPoirot’sconnectionwiththesolutionshouldbegiventotheworld
Itwasafinemorninginspring,andweweresittinginPoirot’srooms.Mylittlefriend,neatanddapperasever,hisegg-shapedheadtiltedononeside,wasdelicatelyapplyinganewpomadetohismoustache.AcertainharmlessvanitywasacharacteristicofPoirot’sandfellintolinewithhisgeneralloveoforderandmethod.TheDailyNewsmonger,whichIhadbeenreading,hadslippedtothefloor,andIwasdeepinabrownstudywhenPoirot’svoicerecalledme.
“Ofwhatareyouthinkingsodeeply,monami?”
“Totellyouthetruth,”Ireplied,“IwaspuzzlingoverthisunaccountableaffairattheVictoryBall.Thepapersarefullofit.”ItappedthesheetwithmyfingerasIspoke.
“Yes?”
“Themoreonereadsofit,themoreshroudedinmysterythewholethingbecomes!”Iwarmedtomysubject.“WhokilledLordCronshaw?WasCocoCourtenay’sdeathonthesamenightamerecoincidence?Wasitanaccident?Ordidshedeliberatelytakeanoverdoseofcocaine?”Istopped,andthenaddeddramatically:“ThesearethequestionsIaskmyself.”
Poirot,somewhattomyannoyance,didnotplayup.Hewaspeeringintotheglass,andmerelymurmured:“Decidedly,thisnewpomade,itisamarvelforthemoustaches!”Catchingmyeye,however,headdedhastily:“Quiteso—andhowdoyoureplytoyourquestions?”
ButbeforeIcouldanswer,thedooropened,andourlandladyannouncedInspectorJapp.
TheScotlandYardmanwasanoldfriendofoursandwegreetedhimwarmly.
“Ah,mygoodJapp,”criedPoirot,“andwhatbringsyoutoseeus?”
“Well,MonsieurPoirot,”saidJapp,seatinghimselfandnoddingtome,“I’monacasethatstrikesmeasbeingverymuchinyourline,andIcamealongtoknowwhetheryou’dcaretohaveafingerinthepie?”
PoirothadagoodopinionofJapp’sabilities,thoughdeploringhislamentablelackofmethod,butI,formypart,consideredthatthedetective’shighesttalentlayinthegentleartofseekingfavoursundertheguiseofconferringthem!
“It’stheVictoryBall,”saidJapppersuasively.“Come,now,you’dliketohaveahandinthat.”
Poirotsmiledatme.
“MyfriendHastingswould,atallevents.Hewasjustholdingforthonthesubject,n’est-cepas,monami?”
“Well,sir,”saidJappcondescendingly,“youshallbeinittoo.Icantellyou,it’ssomethingofafeatherinyourcaptohaveinsideknowledgeofacaselikethis.Well,here’stobusiness.Youknowthemainfactsofthecase,Isuppose,MonsieurPoirot?”
“Fromthepapersonly—andtheimaginationofthejournalistissometimesmisleading.Recountthewholestorytome.”
Jappcrossedhislegscomfortablyandbegan.
“Asalltheworldandhiswifeknows,onTuesdaylastagrandVictoryBallwasheld.Everytwopenny-halfpennyhopcallsitselfthatnowadays,butthiswastherealthing,heldattheColossusHall,andallLondonatit—includingyourLordCronshawandhisparty.”
“Hisdossier?”interruptedPoirot.“Ishouldsayhisbioscope—no,howdoyoucallit—biograph?”
“ViscountCronshawwasfifthviscount,twenty-fiveyearsofage,rich,unmarried,andveryfondofthetheatricalworld.TherewererumoursofhisbeingengagedtoMissCourtenayoftheAlbanyTheatre,whowasknowntoherfriendsas‘Coco’andwhowas,byallaccounts,averyfascinatingyounglady.”
“Good.Continuez!”
“LordCronshaw’spartyconsistedofsixpeople:hehimself,hisuncle,theHonourableEustaceBeltane,aprettyAmericanwidow,Mrs.Mallaby,ayoungactor,ChrisDavidson,hiswife,andlastbutnotleast,MissCocoCourtenay.Itwasafancydressball,asyouknow,andtheCronshawpartyrepresentedtheoldItalianComedy—whateverthatmaybe.”
“TheCommediadell’Arte,”murmuredPoirot.“Iknow.”
“Anyway,thecostumeswerecopiedfromasetofchinafiguresformingpartofEustaceBeltane’scollection.LordCronshawwasHarlequin;BeltanewasPunchinello;Mrs.MallabymatchedhimasPulcinella;theDavidsonswerePierrotandPierette;andMissCourtenay,ofcourse,wasColumbine.Now,quiteearlyintheeveningitwasapparentthattherewassomethingwrong.LordCronshawwasmoodyandstrangeinhismanner.Whenthepartymettogetherforsupperinasmallprivateroomengagedbythehost,everyonenoticedthatheandMissCourtenaywerenolongeronspeakingterms.Shehadobviouslybeencrying,andseemedonthevergeofhysterics.Themealwasanuncomfortableone,andastheyallleftthesupperroom,sheturnedtoChrisDavidsonandrequestedhimaudiblytotakeherhome,asshewas‘sickoftheball.’Theyoungactorhesitated,glancingatLordCronshaw,andfinallydrewthembothbacktothesupperroom
“Butallhiseffortstosecureareconciliationwereunavailing,andheaccordinglygotataxiandescortedthenowweepingMissCourtenaybacktoherflat.Althoughobviouslyverymuchupset,shedidnotconfideinhim,merelyreiteratingagainandagainthatshewould‘makeoldCronchsorryforthis!’Thatistheonlyhintwehavethatherdeathmightnothavebeenaccidental,andit’spreciouslittletogoupon.BythetimeDavidsonhadquietedherdownsomewhat,itwastoolatetoreturntotheColossusHall,andDavidsonaccordinglywentstraighthometohisflatinChelsea,wherehiswifearrivedshortlyafterwards,bearingthenewsoftheterribletragedythathadoccurredafterhisdeparture.
“LordCronshaw,itseems,becamemoreandmoremoodyastheballwenton.Hekeptawayfromhisparty,andtheyhardlysawhimduringtherestoftheevening.Itwasaboutone-thirtya.m.,justbeforethegrandcotillionwheneveryonewastounmask,thatCaptainDigby,abrotherofficerwhoknewhisdisguise,noticedhimstandinginaboxgazingdownonthescene.
“‘Hullo,Cronch!’hecalled.‘Comedownandbesociable!Whatareyoumopingaboutupthereforlikeaboiledowl?Comealong;there’sagoodoldragcomingonnow.’
“‘Right!’respondedCronshaw.‘Waitforme,orI’llneverfindyouinthecrowd.’
“Heturnedandlefttheboxashespoke.CaptainDigby,whohadMrs.Davidsonwithhim,waited.Theminutespassed,butLordCronshawdidnotappear.FinallyDigbygrewimpatient.
“‘Doesthefellowthinkwe’regoingtowaitallnightforhim?’heexclaimed.
“AtthatmomentMrs.Mallabyjoinedthem,andtheyexplainedthesituation.
“‘Say,now,’criedtheprettywidowvivaciously,‘he’slikeabearwithasoreheadtonight.Let’sgorightawayandrouthimout.’
“Thesearchcommenced,butmetwithnosuccessuntilitoccurredtoMrs.Mallabythathemightpossiblybefoundintheroomwheretheyhadsuppedanhourearlier.Theymadetheirwaythere.Whatasightmettheireyes!TherewasHarlequin,sureenough,butstretchedonthegroundwithatable-knifeinhisheart!”
Jappstopped,andPoirotnodded,andsaidwiththerelishofthespecialist:“Unebelleaffaire!Andtherewasnoclueastotheperpetratorofthedeed?Buthowshouldtherebe!”
“Well,”continuedtheinspector,“youknowtherest.Thetragedywasadoubleone.Nextdaytherewereheadlinesinallthepapers,andabriefstatementtotheeffectthatMissCourtenay,thepopularactress,hadbeendiscovereddeadinherbed,andthatherdeathwasduetoanoverdoseofcocaine.Now,wasitaccidentorsuicide?Hermaid,whowascalledupontogiveevidence,admittedthatMissCourtenaywasaconfirmedtakerofthedrug,andaverdictofaccidentaldeathwasreturned.Neverthelesswecan’tleavethepossibilityofsuicideoutofaccount.Herdeathisparticularlyunfortunate,sinceitleavesusnocluenowtothecauseofthequarreltheprecedingnight.Bytheway,asmallenamelboxwasfoundonthedeadman.IthadCocowrittenacrossitindiamonds,andwashalffullofcocaine.ItwasidentifiedbyMissCourtenay’smaidasbelongingtohermistress,whonearlyalwayscarrieditaboutwithher,sinceitcontainedhersupplyofthedrugtowhichshewasfastbecomingaslave.”
“WasLordCronshawhimselfaddictedtothedrug?”
“Veryfarfromit.Heheldunusuallystrongviewsonthesubjectofdope.”
Poirotnoddedthoughtfully.
“Butsincetheboxwasinhispossession,heknewthatMissCourtenaytookit.Suggestive,that,isitnot,mygoodJapp?”
“Ah!”saidJapprathervaguely.
Ismiled.
“Well,”saidJapp,“that’sthecase.Whatdoyouthinkofit?”
“Youfoundnoclueofanykindthathasnotbeenreported?”
“Yes,therewasthis.”JapptookasmallobjectfromhispocketandhandeditovertoPoirot.Itwasasmallpomponofemeraldgreensilk,withsomeraggedthreadshangingfromit,asthoughithadbeenwrenchedviolentlyaway.
“Wefounditinthedeadman’shand,whichwastightlyclenchedoverit,”explainedtheinspector.
Poirothandeditbackwithoutanycommentandasked:“HadLordCronshawanyenemies?”
“Nonethatanyoneknowsof.Heseemedapopularyoungfellow.”
“Whobenefitsbyhisdeath?”
“Hisuncle,theHonourableEustaceBeltane,comesintothetitleandestates.Thereareoneortwosuspiciousfactsagainsthim.Severalpeopledeclarethattheyheardaviolentaltercationgoingoninthelittlesupperroom,andthatEustaceBeltanewasoneofthedisputants.Yousee,thetable-knifebeingsnatchedupoffthetablewouldfitinwiththemurderbeingdoneintheheatofaquarrel.”
“WhatdoesMr.Beltanesayaboutthematter?”
“Declaresoneofthewaiterswastheworseforliquor,andthathewasgivinghimadressingdown.Alsothatitwasnearertoonethanhalfpast.Yousee,CaptainDigby’sevidencefixesthetimeprettyaccurately.OnlyabouttenminuteselapsedbetweenhisspeakingtoCronshawandthefindingofthebody.”
“AndinanycaseIsupposeMr.Beltane,asPunchinello,waswearingahumpandaruffle?”
“Idon’tknowtheexactdetailsofthecostumes,”saidJapp,lookingcuriouslyatPoirot.“Andanyway,Idon’tquiteseewhatthathasgottodowithit?”
“No?”TherewasahintofmockeryinPoirot’ssmile.Hecontinuedquietly,hiseyesshiningwiththegreenlightIhadlearnedtorecognizesowell:“Therewasacurtaininthislittlesupperroom,wastherenot?”
“Yes,but—”
“Withaspacebehinditsufficienttoconcealaman?”
“Yes—infact,there’sasmallrecess,buthowyouknewaboutit—youhaven’tbeentotheplace,haveyou,MonsieurPoirot?”
“No,mygoodJapp,Isuppliedthecurtainfrommybrain.Withoutit,thedramaisnotreasonable.Andalwaysonemustbereasonable.Buttellme,didtheynotsendforadoctor?”
“Atonce,ofcourse.Buttherewasnothingtobedone.Deathmusthavebeeninstantaneous.”
Poirotnoddedratherimpatiently.
“Yes,yes,Iunderstand.Thisdoctor,now,hegaveevidenceattheinquest?”
“Yes.”
“Didhesaynothingofanyunusualsymptom—wastherenothingabouttheappearanceofthebodywhichstruckhimasbeingabnormal?”
Jappstaredhardatthelittleman.
“Yes,MonsieurPoirot.Idon’tknowwhatyou’regettingat,buthedidmentionthattherewasatensionandstiffnessaboutthelimbswhichhewasquiteatalosstoaccountfor.”
“Aha!”saidPoirot.“Aha!MonDieu!Japp,thatgivesonetothink,doesitnot?”
IsawthatithadcertainlynotgivenJapptothink.
“Ifyou’rethinkingofpoison,monsieur,whoonearthwouldpoisonamanfirstandthenstickaknifeintohim?”
“Intruththatwouldberidiculous,”agreedPoirotplacidly.
“Nowisthereanythingyouwanttosee,monsieur?Ifyou’dliketoexaminetheroomwherethebodywasfound—”
Poirotwavedhishand.
“Notintheleast.Youhavetoldmetheonlythingthatinterestsme—LordCronshaw’sviewsonthesubjectofdrugtaking.”
“Thenthere’snothingyouwanttosee?”
“Justonething.”
“Whatisthat?”
“Thesetofchinafiguresfromwhichthecostumeswerecopied.”
Jappstared.
“Well,you’reafunnyone!”
“Youcanmanagethatforme?”
“ComeroundtoBerkeleySquarenowifyoulike.Mr.Beltane—orHisLordship,asIshouldsaynow—won’tobject.”
II
Wesetoffatonceinataxi.ThenewLordCronshawwasnotathome,butatJapp’srequestwewereshownintothe“chinaroom,”wherethegemsofthecollectionwerekept.Japplookedroundhimratherhelplessly.
“Idon’tseehowyou’lleverfindtheonesyouwant,monsieur.”
ButPoirothadalreadydrawnachairinfrontofthemantelpieceandwashoppingupuponitlikeanimblerobin.Abovethemirror,onasmallshelftothemselves,stoodsixchinafigures.Poirotexaminedthemminutely,makingafewcommentstousashedidso.
“Lesvoilà!TheoldItalianComedy.Threepairs!HarlequinandColumbine,PierrotandPierrette—verydaintyinwhiteandgreen—andPunchinelloandPulcinellainmauveandyellow.Veryelaborate,thecostumeofPunchinello—rufflesandfrills,ahump,ahighhat.Yes,asIthought,veryelaborate.”
Hereplacedthefigurescarefully,andjumpeddown.
Japplookedunsatisfied,butasPoirothadclearlynointentionofexplaininganything,thedetectiveputthebestfacehecoulduponthematter.Aswewerepreparingtoleave,themasterofthehousecamein,andJappperformedthenecessaryintroductions.
ThesixthViscountCronshawwasamanofaboutfifty,suaveinmanner,withahandsome,dissoluteface.Evidentlyanelderlyroué,withthelanguidmannerofaposeur.Itookaninstantdisliketohim.Hegreetedusgraciouslyenough,declaringhehadheardgreataccountsofPoirot’sskill,andplacinghimselfatourdisposalineveryway.
“Thepolicearedoingalltheycan,Iknow,”Poirotsaid.
“ButImuchfearthemysteryofmynephew’sdeathwillneverbeclearedup.Thewholethingseemsutterlymysterious.”
Poirotwaswatchinghimkeenly.“Yournephewhadnoenemiesthatyouknowof?”
“Nonewhatever.Iamsureofthat.”Hepaused,andthenwenton:“Ifthereareanyquestionsyouwouldliketoask—”
“Onlyone.”Poirot’svoicewasserious.“Thecostumes—theywerereproducedexactlyfromyourfigurines?”
“Tothesmallestdetail.”
“Thankyou,milor’.ThatisallIwantedtobesureof.Iwishyougoodday.”
“Andwhatnext?”inquiredJappaswehurrieddownthestreet.“I’vegottoreportattheYard,youknow.”
“Bien!Iwillnotdetainyou.Ihaveoneotherlittlemattertoattendto,andthen—”
“Yes?”
“Thecasewillbecomplete.”
“What?Youdon’tmeanit!YouknowwhokilledLordCronshaw?”
“Parfaitement.”
“Whowasit?EustaceBeltane?”
“Ah,monami,youknowmylittleweakness!AlwaysIhaveadesiretokeepthethreadsinmyownhandsuptothelastminute.Buthavenofear.Iwillrevealallwhenthetimecomes.Iwantnocredit—theaffairshallbeyours,ontheconditionthatyoupermitmetoplayoutthedénouementmyownway.”
“That’sfairenough,”saidJapp.“Thatis,ifthedénouementevercomes!ButIsay,youareanoyster,aren’tyou?”Poirotsmiled.“Well,solong.I’mofftotheYard.”
Hestrodeoffdownthesteet,andPoirothailedapassingtaxi.
“Wherearewegoingnow?”Iaskedinlivelycuriosity.
“ToChelseatoseetheDavidsons.”
Hegavetheaddresstothedriver.
“WhatdoyouthinkofthenewLordCronshaw?”Iasked.
“WhatsaysmygoodfriendHastings?”
“Idistrusthiminstinctively.”
“Youthinkheisthe‘wickeduncle’ofthestorybooks,eh?”
“Don’tyou?”
“Me,Ithinkhewasmostamiabletowardsus,”saidPoirotnoncommittally.
“Becausehehadhisreasons!”
Poirotlookedatme,shookhisheadsadly,andmurmuredsomethingthatsoundedlike:“Nomethod.”
III
TheDavidsonslivedonthethirdfloorofablockof“mansion”flats.Mr.Davidsonwasout,weweretold,butMrs.Davidsonwasathome.Wewereusheredintoalong,lowroomwithgarishOrientalhangings.Theairfeltcloseandoppressive,andtherewasanoverpoweringfragranceofjosssticks.Mrs.Davidsoncametousalmostimmediately,asmall,faircreaturewhosefragilitywouldhaveseemedpatheticandappealinghaditnotbeenfortherathershrewdandcalculatinggleaminherlightblueeyes.
Poirotexplainedourconnectionwiththecase,andsheshookherheadsadly.
“PoorCronch—andpoorCocotoo!Wewerebothsofondofher,andherdeathhasbeenaterriblegrieftous.Whatisityouwanttoaskme?MustIreallygooverallthatdreadfuleveningagain?”
“Oh,madame,believeme,Iwouldnotharassyourfeelingsunnecessarily.Indeed,InspectorJapphastoldmeallthatisneedful.Ionlywishtoseethecostumeyouworeattheballthatnight.”
Theladylookedsomewhatsurprised,andPoirotcontinuedsmoothly:“Youcomprehend,madame,thatIworkonthesystemofmycountry.Therewealways‘reconstruct’thecrime.ItispossiblethatImayhaveanactualreprésentation,andifso,youunderstand,thecostumeswouldbeimportant.”
Mrs.Davidsonstilllookedabitdoubtful.
“I’veheardofreconstructingacrime,ofcourse,”shesaid.“ButIdidn’tknowyouweresoparticularaboutdetails.ButI’llfetchthedressnow.”
Shelefttheroomandreturnedalmostimmediatelywithadaintywispofwhitesatinandgreen.Poirottookitfromherandexaminedit,handingitbackwithabow.
“Merci,madame!Iseeyouhavehadthemisfortunetoloseoneofyourgreenpompons,theoneontheshoulderhere.”
“Yes,itgottornoffattheball.IpickeditupandgaveittopoorLordCronshawtokeepforme.”
“Thatwasaftersupper?”
“Yes.”
“Notlongbeforethetragedy,perhaps?”
AfaintlookofalarmcameintoMrs.Davidson’spaleeyes,andsherepliedquickly:“Ohno—longbeforethat.Quitesoonaftersupper,infact.”
“Isee.Well,thatisall.Iwillnotderangeyoufurther.Bonjour,madame.”
“Well,”Isaidasweemergedfromthebuilding,“thatexplainsthemysteryofthegreenpompon.”
“Iwonder.”
“Why,whatdoyoumean?”
“Yousawmeexaminethedress,Hastings?”
“Yes?”
“Ehbien,thepomponthatwasmissinghadnotbeenwrenchedoff,astheladysaid.Onthecontrary,ithadbeencutoff,myfriend,cutoffwithscissors.Thethreadswereallquiteeven.”
“Dearme!”Iexclaimed.“Thisbecomesmoreandmoreinvolved.”
“Onthecontrary,”repliedPoirotplacidly,“itbecomesmoreandmoresimple.”
“Poirot,”Icried,“onedayIshallmurderyou!Yourhabitoffindingeverythingperfectlysimpleisaggravatingtothelastdegree!”
“ButwhenIexplain,monami,isitnotalwaysperfectlysimple?”
“Yes;thatistheannoyingpartofit!IfeelthenthatIcouldhavedoneitmyself.”
“Andsoyoucould,Hastings,soyoucould.Ifyouwouldbuttakethetroubleofarrangingyourideas!Withoutmethod—”
“Yes,yes,”Isaidhastily,forIknewPoirot’seloquencewhenstartedonhisfavouritethemeonlytoowell.“Tellme,whatdowedonext?Areyoureallygoingtoreconstructthecrime?”
“Hardlythat.Shallwesaythatthedramaisover,butthatIproposetoadda—harlequinade?”
IV
ThefollowingTuesdaywasfixeduponbyPoirotasthedayforthismysteriousperformance.Thepreparationsgreatlyintriguedme.Awhitescreenwaserectedatonesideoftheroom,flankedbyheavycurtainsateitherside.Amanwithsomelightingapparatusarrivednext,andfinallyagroupofmembersofthetheatricalprofession,whodisappearedintoPoirot’sbedroom,whichhadbeenriggedupasatemporarydressingroom.
Shortlybeforeeight,Japparrived,innoverycheerfulmood.IgatheredthattheofficialdetectivehardlyapprovedofPoirot’splan.
“Bitmelodramatic,likeallhisideas.Butthere,itcandonoharm,andashesays,itmightsaveusagoodbitoftrouble.He’sbeenverysmartoverthecase.Iwasonthesamescentmyself,ofcourse—”IfeltinstinctivelythatJappwasstrainingthetruthhere—“butthere,Ipromisedtolethimplaythethingouthisownway.Ah!Hereisthecrowd.”
HisLordshiparrivedfirst,escortingMrs.Mallaby,whomIhadnotasyetseen.Shewasapretty,dark-hairedwoman,andappearedperceptiblynervous.TheDavidsonsfollowed.ChrisDavidsonalsoIsawforthefirsttime.Hewashandsomeenoughinaratherobviousstyle,tallanddark,withtheeasygraceoftheactor.
Poirothadarrangedseatsforthepartyfacingthescreen.Thiswasilluminatedbyabrightlight.Poirotswitchedouttheotherlightssothattheroomwasindarknessexceptforthescreen.Poirot’svoiceroseoutofthegloom.
“Messieurs,mesdames,awordofexplanation.Sixfiguresinturnwillpassacrossthescreen.Theyarefamiliartoyou.PierrotandhisPierrette;Punchinellothebuffoon,andelegantPulcinella;beautifulColumbine,lightlydancing,Harlequin,thesprite,invisibletoman!”
Withthesewordsofintroduction,theshowbegan.InturneachfigurethatPoirothadmentionedboundedbeforethescreen,stayedthereamomentpoised,andthenvanished.Thelightswentup,andasighofreliefwentround.Everyonehadbeennervous,fearingtheyknewnotwhat.Itseemedtomethattheproceedingshadgonesingularlyflat.Ifthecriminalwasamongus,andPoirotexpectedhimtobreakdownatthemeresightofafamiliarfigurethedevicehadfailedsignally—asitwasalmostboundtodo.Poirot,however,appearednotawhitdiscomposed.Hesteppedforward,beaming.
“Now,messieursandmesdames,willyoubesogoodastotellme,oneatatime,whatitisthatwehavejustseen?Willyoubegin,milor’?”
Thegentlemanlookedratherpuzzled.“I’mafraidIdon’tquiteunderstand.”
“Justtellmewhatwehavebeenseeing.”
“I—er—well,IshouldsaywehaveseensixfigurespassinginfrontofascreenanddressedtorepresentthepersonagesintheoldItalianComedy,or—er—ourselvestheothernight.”
“Nevermindtheothernight,milor’,”brokeinPoirot.“ThefirstpartofyourspeechwaswhatIwanted.Madame,youagreewithMilor’Cronshaw?”
HehadturnedashespoketoMrs.Mallaby.
“I—er—yes,ofcourse.”
“YouagreethatyouhaveseensixfiguresrepresentingtheItalianComedy?”
“Why,certainly.”
“MonsieurDavidson?Youtoo?”
“Yes.”
“Madame?”
“Yes.”
“Hastings?Japp?Yes?Youareallinaccord?”
Helookedarounduponus;hisfacegrewratherpale,andhiseyesweregreenasanycat’s.
“Andyet—youareallwrong!Youreyeshaveliedtoyou—astheyliedtoyouonthenightoftheVictoryBall.To‘see’thingswithyoureyes,astheysay,isnotalwaystoseethetruth.Onemustseewiththeeyesofthemind;onemustemploythelittlecellsofgrey!Know,then,thattonightandonthenightoftheVictoryBall,yousawnotsixfiguresbutfive!See!”
Thelightswentoutagain.Afigureboundedinfrontofthescreen—Pierrot!
“Whoisthat?”demandedPoirot.“IsitPierrot?”
“Yes,”weallcried.
“Lookagain!”
WithaswiftmovementthemandivestedhimselfofhisloosePierrotgarb.ThereinthelimelightstoodglitteringHarlequin!Atthesamemomenttherewasacryandanoverturnedchair.
“Curseyou,”snarledDavidson’svoice.“Curseyou!Howdidyouguess?”
ThencametheclinkofhandcuffsandJapp’scalmofficialvoice.“Iarrestyou,ChristopherDavidson—chargeofmurderingViscountCronshaw—anythingyousaywillbeusedinevidenceagainstyou.”
V
Itwasaquarterofanhourlater.Arecherchélittlesupperhadappeared;andPoirot,beamingalloverhisface,wasdispensinghospitalityandansweringoureagerquestions.
“Itwasallverysimple.Thecircumstancesinwhichthegreenpomponwasfoundsuggestedatoncethatithadbeentornfromthecostumeofthemurderer.IdismissedPierrettefrommymind(sinceittakesconsiderablestrengthtodriveatable-knifehome)andfixeduponPierrotasthecriminal.ButPierrotlefttheballnearlytwohoursbeforethemurderwascommitted.SohemusteitherhavereturnedtotheballlatertokillLordCronshaw,or—ehbien,hemusthavekilledhimbeforeheleft!Wasthatimpossible?WhohadseenLordCronshawaftersupperthatevening?OnlyMrs.Davidson,whosestatement,Isuspected,wasadeliberatefabricationutteredwiththeobjectofaccountingforthemissingpompon,which,ofcourse,shecutfromherowndresstoreplacetheonemissingonherhusband’scostume.Butthen,Harlequin,whowasseenintheboxatone-thirty,musthavebeenanimpersonation.Foramoment,earlier,IhadconsideredthepossibilityofMr.Beltanebeingtheguiltyparty.Butwithhiselaboratecostume,itwasclearlyimpossiblethathecouldhavedoubledtherolesofPunchinelloandHarlequin.Ontheotherhand,toDavidson,ayoungmanofaboutthesameheightasthemurderedmanandanactorbyprofession,thethingwassimplicityitself.
“Butonethingworriedme.Surelyadoctorcouldnotfailtoperceivethedifferencebetweenamanwhohadbeendeadtwohoursandonewhohadbeendeadtenminutes!Ehbien,thedoctordidperceiveit!Buthewasnottakentothebodyandasked,“Howlonghasthismanbeendead?”Onthecontrary,hewasinformedthatthemanhadbeenseenalivetenminutesago,andsohemerelycommentedattheinquestontheabnormalstiffeningofthelimbsforwhichhewasquiteunabletoaccount!
“Allwasnowmarchingfamouslyformytheory.DavidsonhadkilledLordCronshawimmediatelyaftersupper,when,asyouremember,hewasseentodrawhimbackintothesupperroom.ThenhedepartedwithMissCourtenay,leftheratthedoorofherflat(insteadofgoinginandtryingtopacifyherasheaffirmed)andreturnedposthastetotheColossus—butasHarlequin,notPierrot—asimpletransformationeffectedbyremovinghisoutercostume.”
VI
Theuncleofthedeadmanleanedforward,hiseyesperplexed.
“Butifso,hemusthavecometotheballpreparedtokillhisvictim.Whatearthlymotivecouldhehavehad?Themotive,that’swhatIcan’tget.”
“Ah!Therewecometothesecondtragedy—thatofMissCourtenay.Therewasonesimplepointwhicheveryoneoverlooked.MissCourtenaydiedofcocainepoisoning—buthersupplyofthedrugwasintheenamelboxwhichwasfoundonLordCronshaw’sbody.Where,then,didsheobtainthedosewhichkilledher?Onlyonepersoncouldhavesuppliedherwithit—Davidson.Andthatexplainseverything.ItaccountsforherfriendshipwiththeDavidsonsandherdemandthatDavidsonshouldescortherhome.LordCronshaw,whowasalmostfanaticallyopposedtodrug-taking,discoveredthatshewasaddictedtococaine,andsuspectedthatDavidsonsuppliedherwithit.Davidsondoubtlessdeniedthis,butLordCronshawdeterminedtogetthetruthfromMissCourtenayattheball.Hecouldforgivethewretchedgirl,buthewouldcertainlyhavenomercyonthemanwhomadealivingbytraffickingindrugs.ExposureandruinconfrontedDavidson.HewenttotheballdeterminedthatCronshaw’ssilencemustbeobtainedatanycost.”
“WasCoco’sdeathanaccident,then?”
“IsuspectthatitwasanaccidentcleverlyengineeredbyDavidson.ShewasfuriouslyangrywithCronshaw,firstforhisreproaches,andsecondlyfortakinghercocainefromher.Davidsonsuppliedherwithmore,andprobablysuggestedheraugmentingthedoseasadefianceto‘oldCronch!’”
“Oneotherthing,”Isaid.“Therecessandthecurtain?Howdidyouknowaboutthem?”
“Why,monami,thatwasthemostsimpleofall.Waitershadbeeninandoutofthatlittleroom,so,obviously,thebodycouldnothavebeenlyingwhereitwasfoundonthefloor.Theremustbesomeplaceintheroomwhereitcouldbehidden.Ideducedacurtainandarecessbehindit.Davidsondraggedthebodythere,andlater,afterdrawingattentiontohimselfinthebox,hedraggeditoutagainbeforefinallyleavingtheHall.Itwasoneofhisbestmoves.Heisacleverfellow!”
ButinPoirot’sgreeneyesIreadunmistakablytheunspokenremark:“ButnotquitesocleverasHerculePoirot!”
Four
THEMARKETBASINGMYSTERY
I
Afterall,there’snothinglikethecountry,isthere?”saidInspectorJapp,breathinginheavilythroughhisnoseandoutthroughhismouthinthemostapprovedfashion.
PoirotandIapplaudedthesentimentheartily.IthadbeentheScotlandYardinspector’sideathatweshouldallgofortheweekendtothelittlecountrytownofMarketBasing.Whenoffduty,Jappwasanardentbotanist,anddiscourseduponminuteflowerspossessedofunbelievablylengthyLatinnames(somewhatstrangelypronounced)withanenthusiasmevengreaterthanthathegavetohiscases.
“Nobodyknowsus,andweknownobody,”explainedJapp.“That’stheidea.”
Thiswasnottoprovequitethecase,however,forthelocalconstablehappenedtohavebeentransferredfromavillagefifteenmilesawaywhereacaseofarsenicalpoisoninghadbroughthimintocontactwiththeScotlandYardman.However,hisdelightedrecognitionofthegreatmanonlyenhancedJapp’ssenseofwell-being,andaswesatdowntobreakfastonSundaymorningintheparlourofthevillageinn,withthesunshining,andtendrilsofhoneysucklethrustingthemselvesinatthewindow,wewereallinthebestofspirits.Thebaconandeggswereexcellent,thecoffeenotsogood,butpassableandboilinghot
“Thisisthelife,”saidJapp.“WhenIretire,Ishallhavealittleplaceinthecountry.Farfromcrime,likethis!”
“Lecrime,ilestpartout,”remarkedPoirot,helpinghimselftoaneatsquareofbread,andfrowningatasparrowwhichhadbalanceditselfimpertinentlyonthewindowsill.
Iquotedlightly:
“Thatrabbithasapleasantface,HisprivatelifeisadisgraceIreallycouldnottelltoyouTheawfulthingsthatrabbitsdo.”
“Lord,”saidJapp,stretchinghimselfbackward,“IbelieveIcouldmanageanotheregg,andperhapsarasherortwoofbacon.Whatdoyousay,Captain?”
“I’mwithyou,”Ireturnedheartily.“Whataboutyou,Poirot?”
Poirotshookhishead.
“Onemustnotsoreplenishthestomachthatthebrainrefusestofunction,”heremarked.
“I’llriskreplenishingthestomachabitmore,”laughedJapp.“Itakealargesizeinstomachs;andbytheway,you’regettingstoutyourself,M.Poirot.Here,miss,eggsandbacontwice.”
Atthatmoment,however,animposingformblockedthedoorway.ItwasConstablePollard.
“Ihopeyou’llexcusemetroublingtheinspector,gentlemen,butI’dbegladofhisadvice.”
“I’monholiday,”saidJapphastily.“Noworkforme.Whatisthecase?”
“GentlemanupatLeighHouse—shothimself—throughthehead.”
“Well,theywilldoit,”saidJappprosaically.“Debt,orawoman,Isuppose.SorryIcan’thelpyou,Pollard.”
“Thepointis,”saidtheconstable,“thathecan’thaveshothimself.Leastways,that’swhatDr.Gilessays.”
Jappputdownhiscup.
“Can’thaveshothimself?Whatdoyoumean?”
“That’swhatDr.Gilessays,”repeatedPollard.“Hesaysit’splumbimpossible.He’spuzzledtodeath,thedoorbeinglockedontheinsideandthewindowsbolted;buthestickstoitthatthemancouldn’thavecommittedsuicide.”
Thatsettledit.Thefurthersupplyofbaconandeggswaswavedaside,andafewminuteslaterwewereallwalkingasfastaswecouldinthedirectionofLeighHouse,Jappeagerlyquestioningtheconstable.
ThenameofthedeceasedwasWalterProtheroe;hewasamanofmiddleageandsomethingofarecluse.HehadcometoMarketBasingeightyearsagoandrentedLeighHouse,arambling,dilapidatedoldmansionfastfallingintoruin.Helivedinacornerofit,hiswantsattendedtobyahousekeeperwhomhehadbroughtwithhim.MissCleggwashername,andshewasaverysuperiorwomanandhighlythoughtofinthevillage.JustlatelyMr.Protheroehadhadvisitorsstayingwithhim,aMr.andMrs.ParkerfromLondon.Thismorning,unabletogetareplywhenshewenttocallhermaster,andfindingthedoorlocked,MissCleggbecamealarmed,andtelephonedforthepoliceandthedoctor.ConstablePollardandDr.Gileshadarrivedatthesamemoment.Theirunitedeffortshadsucceededinbreakingdowntheoakdoorofhisbedroom.
Mr.Protheroewaslyingonthefloor,shotthroughthehead,andthepistolwasclaspedinhisrighthand.Itlookedaclearcaseofsuicide.
Afterexaminingthebody,however,Dr.Gilesbecameclearlyperplexed,andfinallyhedrewtheconstableaside,andcommunicatedhisperplexitiestohim;whereuponPollardhadatoncethoughtofJapp.Leavingthedoctorincharge,hehadhurrieddowntotheinn.
Bythetimetheconstable’srecitalwasover,wehadarrivedatLeighHouse,abig,desolatehousesurroundedbyanunkempt,weed-riddengarden.Thefrontdoorwasopen,andwepassedatonceintothehallandfromthereintoasmallmorningroomwhenceproceededthesoundofvoices.Fourpeoplewereintheroom:asomewhatflashilydressedmanwithashifty,unpleasantfacetowhomItookanimmediatedislike;awomanofmuchthesametype,thoughhandsomeinacoarsefashion;anotherwomandressedinneatblackwhostoodapartfromtherest,andwhomItooktobethehousekeeper;andatallmandressedinsportingtweeds,withaclever,capableface,andwhowasclearlyincommandofthesituation.
“Dr.Giles,”saidtheconstable,“thisisDetective-InspectorJappofScotlandYard,andhistwofriends.”
ThedoctorgreetedusandmadeusknowntoMr.andMrs.Parker.Thenweaccompaniedthemupstairs.Pollard,inobediencetoasignfromJapp,remainedbelow,asitwereonguardoverthehousehold.Thedoctorledusupstairsandalongapassage.Adoorwasopenattheend;splintershungfromthehinges,andthedooritselfhadcrashedtothefloorinsidetheroom.
Wewentin.Thebodywasstilllyingonthefloor.Mr.Protheroehadbeenamanofmiddleage,bearded,withhairgreyatthetemples.Jappwentandkneltbythebody.
“Whycouldn’tyouleaveitasyoufoundit?”hegrumbled.
Thedoctorshruggedhisshoulders.
“Wethoughtitaclearcaseofsuicide.”
“H’m!”saidJapp.“Bulletenteredtheheadbehindtheleftear.”
“Exactly,”saidthedoctor.“Clearlyimpossibleforhimtohavefiredithimself.He’dhavehadtotwisthishandrightroundhishead.Itcouldn’thavebeendone.”
“Yetyoufoundthepistolclaspedinhishand?Whereisit,bytheway?”
Thedoctornoddedtothetable.
“Butitwasn’tclaspedinhishand,”hesaid.“Itwasinsidethehand,butthefingersweren’tclosedoverit.”
“Putthereafterwards,”saidJapp;“that’sclearenough.”Hewasexaminingtheweapon.“Onecartridgefired.We’lltestitforfingerprints,butIdoubtifwe’llfindanybutyours,Dr.Giles.Howlonghashebeendead?”
“Sometimelastnight.Ican’tgivethetimetoanhourorso,asthosewonderfuldoctorsindetectivestoriesdo.Roughly,he’sbeendeadabouttwelvehours.”
Sofar,Poirothadnotmadeamoveofanykind.Hehadremainedbymyside,watchingJappatworkandlisteningtohisquestions.Only,fromtimetotime,hehadsniffedtheairverydelicately,andasifpuzzled.Itoohadsniffed,butcoulddetectnothingtoarouseinterest.Theairseemedperfectlyfreshanddevoidofodour.Andyet,fromtimetotime,Poirotcontinuedtosniffitdubiously,asthoughhiskeenernosedetectedsomethingIhadmissed.
Now,asJappmovedawayfromthebody,Poirotkneltdownbyit.Hetooknointerestinthewound.Ithoughtatfirstthathewasexaminingthefingersofthehandthathadheldthepistol,butinaminuteIsawthatitwasahandkerchiefcarriedinthecoat-sleevethatinterestedhim.Mr.Protheroewasdressedinadarkgreylounge-suit.FinallyPoirotgotupfromhisknees,buthiseyesstillstrayedbacktothehandkerchiefasthoughpuzzled.
Jappcalledtohimtocomeandhelptoliftthedoor.Seizingmyopportunity,Itookneltdown,andtakingthehandkerchieffromthesleeve,scrutinizeditminutely.Itwasaperfectlyplainhandkerchiefofwhitecambric;therewasnomarkorstainonitofanykind.Ireplacedit,shakingmyheadandconfessingmyselfbaffled.
Theothershadraisedthedoor.Irealizedthattheywerehuntingforthekey.Theylookedinvain.
“Thatsettlesit,”saidJapp.“Thewindow’sshutandbolted.Themurdererleftbythedoor,lockingitandtakingthekeywithhim.HethoughtitwouldbeacceptedthatProtheroehadlockedhimselfinandshothimself,andthattheabsenceofthekeywouldnotbenoticed.Youagree,M.Poirot?”
“Iagree,yes;butitwouldhavebeensimplerandbettertoslipthekeybackinsidetheroomunderthedoor.Thenitwouldlookasthoughithadfallenfromthelock.”
“Ah,well,youcan’texpecteverybodytohavethebrightideasthatyouhave.You’dhavebeenaholyterrorifyou’dtakentocrime.Anyremarkstomake,M.Poirot?”
Poirot,itseemedtome,wassomewhatataloss.Helookedroundtheroomandremarkedmildlyandalmostapologetically:“Hesmokedalot,thismonsieur.”
Trueenough,thegratewasfilledwithcigarettestubs,aswasanashtraythatstoodonasmalltablenearthebigarmchair.
“Hemusthavegotthroughabouttwentycigaretteslastnight,”remarkedJapp.Stoopingdown,heexaminedthecontentsofthegratecarefully,thentransferredhisattentiontotheashtray.“They’reallthesamekind,”heannounced,“andsmokedbythesameman.There’snothingthere,M.Poirot.”
“Ididnotsuggestthattherewas,”murmuredmyfriend.
“Ha,”criedJapp,“what’sthis?”Hepouncedonsomethingbrightandglitteringthatlayonthefloornearthedeadman.“Abrokencuff-link.Iwonderwhothisbelongsto.Dr.Giles,I’dbeobligedifyou’dgodownandsendupthehousekeeper.”
“WhatabouttheParkers?He’sveryanxioustoleavethehouse—sayshe’sgoturgentbusinessinLondon.”
“Idaresay.It’llhavetogetonwithouthim.Bythewaythingsaregoing,it’slikelythatthere’llbesomeurgentbusinessdownhereforhimtoattendto!Sendupthehousekeeper,anddon’tleteitheroftheParkersgiveyouandPollardtheslip.Didanyofthehouseholdcomeinherethismorning?”
Thedoctorreflected.
“No,theystoodoutsideinthecorridorwhilePollardandIcamein.”
“Sureofthat?”
“Absolutelycertain.”
Thedoctordepartedonhismission.
“Goodman,that,”saidJappapprovingly.“Someofthesesportingdoctorsarefirst-classfellows.Well,Iwonderwhoshotthischap.Itlookslikeoneofthethreeinthehouse.Ihardlysuspectthehousekeeper.She’shadeightyearstoshoothiminifshewantedto.IwonderwhotheseParkersare?They’renotaprepossessing-lookingcouple.”
MissCleggappearedatthisjuncture.Shewasathin,gauntwomanwithneatgreyhairpartedinthemiddle,verystaidandcalminmanner.Neverthelesstherewasanairofefficiencyaboutherwhichcommandedrespect.InanswertoJapp’squestions,sheexplainedthatshehadbeenwiththedeadmanforfourteenyears.Hehadbeenagenerousandconsideratemaster.ShehadneverseenMr.andMrs.Parkeruntilthreedaysago,whentheyarrivedunexpectedlytostay.Shewasoftheopinionthattheyhadaskedthemselves—themasterhadcertainlynotseemedpleasedtoseethem.Thecuff-linkswhichJappshowedherhadnotbelongedtoMr.Protheroe—shewassureofthat.Questionedaboutthepistol,
ThenPoirotinterposedaquestion:
“Didyourmastersleepwithhiswindowopenorshut,asarule?”
MissCleggconsidered.
“Itwasusuallyopen,atanyrateatthetop.”
“Yetnowitisclosed.Canyouexplainthat?”
“No,unlesshefeltadraughtandshutit.”
Jappaskedherafewmorequestionsandthendismissedher.NextheinterviewedtheParkersseparately.Mrs.Parkerwasinclinedtobehystericalandtearful;Mr.Parkerwasfullofblusterandabuse.Hedeniedthatthecuff-linkwashis,butashiswifehadpreviouslyrecognizedit,thishardlyimprovedmattersforhim;andashehadalsodeniedeverhavingbeeninProtheroe’sroom,Jappconsideredthathehadsufficientevidencetoapplyforawarrant.
LeavingPollardincharge,Jappbustledbacktothevillageandgotintotelephoniccommunicationwithheadquarters.PoirotandIstrolledbacktotheinn.
“You’reunusuallyquiet,”Isaid.“Doesn’tthecaseinterestyou?”
“Aucontraire,itinterestsmeenormously.Butitpuzzlesmealso.”
“Themotiveisobscure,”Isaidthoughtfully,“butI’mcertainthatParker’sabadlot.Thecaseagainsthimseemsprettyclearbutforthelackofmotive,andthatmaycomeoutlater.”
“Nothingstruckyouasbeingespeciallysignificant,althoughoverlookedbyJapp?”
Ilookedathimcuriously.
“Whathaveyougotupyoursleeve,Poirot?”
“Whatdidthedeadmanhaveuphissleeve?”
“Oh,thathandkerchief!”
“Exactly,thathandkerchief.”
“Asailorcarrieshishandkerchiefinhissleeve,”Isaidthoughtfully.
“Anexcellentpoint,Hastings,thoughnottheoneIhadinmind.”
“Anythingelse?”
“Yes,overandoveragainIgobacktothesmellofcigarettesmoke.”
“Ididn’tsmellany,”Icriedwonderingly.
“NomoredidI,cherami.”
Ilookedearnestlyathim.ItissodifficulttoknowwhenPoirotispullingone’sleg,butheseemedthoroughlyinearnestandwasfrowningtohimself.
II
Theinquesttookplacetwodayslater.Inthemeantimeotherevidencehadcometolight.AtramphadadmittedthathehadclimbedoverthewallintotheLeighHousegarden,whereheoftensleptinashedthatwasleftunlocked.Hedeclaredthatattwelveo’clockhehadheardtwomenquarrellingloudlyinaroomonthefirstfloor.Onewasdemandingasumofmoney;theotherwasangrilyrefusing.Concealedbehindabush,hehadseenthetwomenastheypassedandrepassedthelightedwindow.OneheknewwellasbeingMr.Protheroe,theownerofthehouse;theotherheidentifiedpositivelyasMr.Parker.
ItwasclearnowthattheParkershadcometoLeighHousetoblackmailProtheroe,andwhenlateritwasdiscoveredthatthedeadman’srealnamewasWendover,andthathehadbeenalieutenantintheNavyandhadbeenconcernedintheblowingupofthefirst-classcruiserMerrythought,in1910,thecaseseemedtoberapidlyclearing.ItwassupposedthatParker,cognizantofthepartWendoverhadplayed,hadtrackedhimdownanddemandedhushmoneywhichtheotherrefusedtopay.Inthecourseofthequarrel,Wendoverdrewhisrevolver,andParkersnatcheditfromhimandshothim,subsequentlyendeavouringtogiveittheappearanceofsuicide.
Parkerwascommittedfortrial,reservinghisdefence.Wehadattendedthepolice-courtproceedings.Asweleft,Poirotnoddedhishead.
“Itmustbeso,”hemurmuredtohimself.“Yes,itmustbeso.Iwilldelaynolonger.”
Hewentintothepostoffice,andwroteoffanotewhichhedespatchedbyspecialmessenger.Ididnotseetowhomitwasaddressed.Thenwereturnedtotheinnwherewehadstayedonthatmemorableweekend.
Poirotwasrestless,goingtoandfromthewindow.
“Iawaitavisitor,”heexplained.“Itcannotbe—surelyitcannotbethatIammistaken?No,heresheis.”
Tomyutterastonishment,inanotherminuteMissCleggwalkedintotheroom.Shewaslesscalmthanusual,andwasbreathinghardasthoughshehadbeenrunning.IsawthefearinhereyesasshelookedatPoirot.
“Sitdown,mademoiselle,”hesaidkindly.“Iguessedrightly,didInot?”
Foranswersheburstintotears.
“Whydidyoudoit?”askedPoirotgently.“Why?”
“Ilovedhimso,”sheanswered.“Iwasnursemaidtohimwhenhewasalittleboy.Oh,bemercifultome!”
“IwilldoallIcan.ButyouunderstandthatIcannotpermitaninnocentmantohang—eventhoughheisanunpleasingscoundrel.”
Shesatupandsaidinalowvoice:“PerhapsintheendIcouldnothave,either.Dowhatevermustbedone.”
Then,rising,shehurriedfromtheroom
“Didsheshoothim?”Iaskedutterlybewildered.
Poirotsmiledandshookhishead.
“Heshothimself.Doyourememberthathecarriedhishandkerchiefinhisrightsleeve?Thatshowedmethathewasleft-handed.Fearingexposure,afterhisstormyinterviewwithMr.Parker,heshothimself.InthemorningMissCleggcametocallhimasusualandfoundhimlyingdead.Asshehasjusttoldus,shehadknownhimfromalittleboyupward,andwasfilledwithfuryagainsttheParkers,whohaddrivenhimtothisshamefuldeath.Sheregardedthemasmurderers,andthensuddenlyshesawachanceofmakingthemsufferforthedeedtheyhadinspired.Shealoneknewthathewasleft-handed.Shechangedthepistoltohisrighthand,closedandboltedthewindow,droppedthebitofcuff-linkshehadpickedupinoneofthedownstairsrooms,andwentout,lockingthedoorandremovingthekey.”
“Poirot,”Isaid,inaburstofenthusiasm,“youaremagnificent.Allthatfromtheonelittleclueofthehandkerchief.”
“Andthecigarettesmoke.Ifthewindowhadbeenclosed,andallthosecigarettessmoked,theroomoughttohavebeenfullofstaletobacco.Instead,itwasperfectlyfresh,soIdeducedatoncethatthewindowmusthavebeenopenallnight,andonlyclosedinthemorning,andthatgavemeaveryinterestinglineofspeculation.Icouldconceiveofnocircumstancesunderwhichamurderercouldwanttoshutthewindow.Itwouldbetohisadvantagetoleaveitopen,andpretendthatthemurdererhadescapedthatway,ifthetheoryofsuicidedidnotgodown.Ofcourse,thetramp’sevidence,whenIheardit,confirmedmysuspicions.Hecouldneverhaveoverheardthatconversationunlessthewindowhadbeenopen.”
“Splendid!”Isaidheartily.“Now,whataboutsometea?”
“SpokenlikeatrueEnglishman,”saidPoirotwithasigh.“IsupposeitisnotlikelythatIcouldobtainhereaglassofsirop?”
Five
THELEMESURIERINHERITANCE
I
IncompanywithPoirot,Ihaveinvestigatedmanystrangecases,butnone,Ithink,tocomparewiththatextraordinaryseriesofeventswhichheldourinterestoveraperiodofmanyyears,andwhichculminatedintheultimateproblembroughttoPoirottosolve.OurattentionwasfirstdrawntothefamilyhistoryoftheLemesuriersoneeveningduringthewar.PoirotandIhadbutrecentlycometogetheragain,renewingtheolddaysofouracquaintanceshipinBelgium.HehadbeenhandlingsomelittlematterfortheWarOffice—disposingofittotheirentiresatisfaction;andwehadbeendiningattheCarltonwithaBrassHatwhopaidPoirotheavycomplimentsintheintervalsofthemeal.TheBrassHathadtorushawaytokeepanappointmentwithsomeone,andwefinishedourcoffeeinaleisurelyfashionbeforefollowinghisexample.
Aswewereleavingtheroom,Iwashailedbyavoicewhichstruckafamiliarnote,andturnedtoseeCaptainVincentLemesurier,ayoungfellowwhomIhadknowninFrance.Hewaswithanoldermanwhoselikenesstohimproclaimedhimtobeofthesamefamily.Suchprovedtobethecase,andhewasintroducedtousasMr.HugoLemesurier,uncleofmyyoungfriend.
IdidnotreallyknowCaptainLemesurieratallintimately,buthewasapleasantyoungfellow,somewhatdreamyinmanner,andIrememberedhearingthathebelongedtoanoldandexclusivefamilywithapropertyinNorthumberlandwhichdatedfrombeforetheReformation.PoirotandIwerenotinahurry,andattheyoungerman’sinvitation,wesatdownatthetablewithourtwonewfoundfriends,andchatteredpleasantlyenoughonvariousmatters.TheelderLemesurierwasamanofaboutforty,withatouchofthescholarinhisstoopingshoulders;hewasengagedatthemomentuponsomechemicalresearchworkfortheGovernment,itappeared.
Ourconversationwasinterruptedbyatalldarkyoungmanwhostrodeuptothetable,evidentlylabouringundersomeagitationofmind.
“ThankgoodnessI’vefoundyouboth!”heexclaimed.
“What’sthematter,Roger?”
“Yourguv’nor,Vincent.Badfall.Younghorse.”Theresttrailedoff,ashedrewtheotheraside.
Inafewminutesourtwofriendshadhurriedlytakenleaveofus.VincentLemesurier’sfatherhadhadaseriousaccidentwhiletryingayounghorse,andwasnotexpectedtoliveuntilmorning.Vincenthadgonedeadlywhite,andappearedalmoststunnedbythenews.Inaway,Iwassurprised—forfromthefewwordshehadletfallonthesubjectwhileinFrance,Ihadgatheredthatheandhisfatherwerenotonparticularlyfriendlyterms,andsohisdisplayoffilialfeelingnowratherastonishedme.
Thedarkyoungman,whohadbeenintroducedtousasacousin,Mr.RogerLemesurier,remainedbehind,andwethreestrolledouttogether.
“Ratheracuriousbusiness,this,”observedtheyoungman.“ItwouldinterestM.Poirot,perhaps.I’veheardofyou,youknow,M.Poirot—fromHigginson.”(HigginsonwasourBrassHatfriend.)“Hesaysyou’reawhaleonpsychology.”
“Istudythepsychology,yes,”admittedmyfriendcautiously.
“Didyouseemycousin’sface?Hewasabsolutelybowledover,wasn’the?Doyouknowwhy?Agoodold-fashionedfamilycurse!Wouldyoucaretohearaboutit?”
“Itwouldbemostkindofyoutorecountittome.”
RogerLemesurierlookedathiswatch.
“Lotsoftime.I’mmeetingthematKing’sCross.Well,M.Poirot,theLemesuriersareanoldfamily.Waybackinmedievaltimes,aLemesurierbecamesuspiciousofhiswife.Hefoundtheladyinacompromisingsituation.Shesworethatshewasinnocent,butoldBaronHugodidn’tlisten.Shehadonechild,ason—andhesworethattheboywasnochildofhisandshouldneverinherit.Iforgetwhathedid—somepleasingmedievalfancylikewallingupthemotherandsonalive;anyway,hekilledthemboth,andshediedprotestingherinnocenceandsolemnlycursingtheLemesuriersforever.Nofirst-bornsonofaLemesuriershouldeverinherit—sothecurseran.Well,timepassed,andthelady’sinnocencewasestablishedbeyonddoubt.IbelievethatHugoworeahairshirtandendeduphisdaysonhiskneesinamonk’scell.Butthecuriousthingisthatfromthatdaytothis,nofirst-bornsoneverhassucceededtotheestate.It’sgonetobrothers,tonephews,tosecondsons—nevertotheeldestson.Vincent’sfatherwasthesecondoffivesons,theeldestofwhomdiedininfancy.Ofcourse,allthroughthewar,Vincenthasbeenconvincedthatwhoeverelsewasdoomed,hecertainlywas.Butstrangelyenough,histwoyoungerbrothershavebeenkilled,andhehimselfhasremainedunscathed.”
“Aninterestingfamilyhistory,”saidPoirotthoughtfully.“Butnowhisfatherisdying,andhe,astheeldestson,succeeds?”
“Exactly.Acursehasgonerusty—unabletostandthestrainofmodernlife.”
Poirotshookhishead,asthoughdeprecatingtheother’sjestingtone.RogerLemesurierlookedathiswatchagain,anddeclaredthathemustbeoff.
Thesequeltothestorycameonthemorrow,whenwelearnedofthetragicdeathofCaptainVincentLemesurier.HehadbeentravellingnorthbytheScotchmail-train,andduringthenightmusthaveopenedthedoorofthecompartmentandjumpedoutontheline.Theshockofhisfather’saccidentcomingontopoftheshell-shockwasdeemedtohavecausedtemporarymentalaberration.ThecurioussuperstitionprevalentintheLemesurierfamilywasmentioned,inconnectionwiththenewheir,hisfather’sbrother,RonaldLemesurier,whoseonlysonhaddiedontheSomme.
IsupposeouraccidentalmeetingwithyoungVincentonthelasteveningofhislifequickenedourinterestinanythingthatpertainedtotheLemesurierfamily,forwenotedwithsomeinteresttwoyearslaterthedeathofRonaldLemesurier,whohadbeenaconfirmedinvalidatthetimeofhissuccessiontothefamilyestates.HisbrotherJohnsucceededhim,ahale,heartymanwithaboyatEton.
CertainlyanevildestinyovershadowedtheLemesuriers.Onhisverynextholidaytheboymanagedtoshoothimselffatally.Hisfather’sdeath,whichoccurredquitesuddenlyafterbeingstungbyawasp,gavetheestateovertotheyoungestbrotherofthefive—Hugo,whomwerememberedmeetingonthefatalnightattheCarlton.
BeyondcommentingontheextraordinaryseriesofmisfortuneswhichbefelltheLemesuriers,wehadtakennopersonalinterestinthematter,butthetimewasnowcloseathandwhenweweretotakeamoreactivepart.
II
Onemorning“Mrs.Lemesurier”wasannounced.Shewasatall,activewoman,possiblyaboutthirtyyearsofage,whoconveyedbyherdemeanouragreatdealofdeterminationandstrongcommonsense.Shespokewithafainttransatlanticaccent.
“M.Poirot?Iampleasedtomeetyou.Myhusband,HugoLemesurier,metyouoncemanyyearsago,butyouwillhardlyrememberthefact.”
“Irecollectitperfectly,madame.ItwasattheCarlton.”
“That’squitewonderfulofyou.M.Poirot,I’mveryworried.”
“Whatabout,Madame?”
“Myelderboy—I’vetwoboys,youknow.Ronald’seight,andGerald’ssix.”
“Proceed,madame:whyshouldyoubeworriedaboutlittleRonald?”
“M.Poirot,withinthelastsixmonthshehashadthreenarrowescapesfromdeath:oncefromdrowning—whenwewerealldownatCornwallthissummer;oncewhenhefellfromthenurserywindow;andoncefromptomainepoisoning.”
PerhapsPoirot’sfaceexpressedrathertooeloquentlywhathethought,forMrs.Lemesurierhurriedonwithhardlyamoment’spause:“OfcourseIknowyouthinkI’mjustasillyfoolofawoman,makingmountainsoutofmolehills.”
“No,indeed,madame.Anymothermightbeexcusedforbeingupsetatsuchoccurrences,butIhardlyseewhereIcanbeofanyassistancetoyou.IamnotlebonDieutocontrolthewaves;forthenurserywindowIshouldsuggestsomeironbars;andforthefood—whatcanequalamother’scare?”
“ButwhyshouldthesethingshappentoRonaldandnottoGerald?”
“Thechance,madame—lehasard!”
“Youthinkso?”
“Whatdoyouthink,madame—youandyourhusband?”
AshadowcrossedMrs.Lemesurier’sface.
“It’snogoodgoingtoHugo—hewon’tlisten.Asperhapsyoumayhaveheard,there’ssupposedtobeacurseonthefamily—noeldestsoncansucceed.Hugobelievesinit.He’swrappedupinthefamilyhistory,andhe’ssuperstitioustothelastdegree.WhenIgotohimwithmyfears,hejustsaysit’sthecurse,andwecan’tescapeit.ButI’mfromtheStates,M.Poirot,andovertherewedon’tbelievemuchincurses.Welikethemasbelongingtoarealhigh-tonedoldfamily—itgivesasortofcachet,don’tyouknow.IwasjustamusicalcomedyactressinasmallpartwhenHugometme—andIthoughthisfamilycursewasjusttoolovelyforwords.Thatkindofthing’sallrightfortellingroundthefireonawinter’sevening,butwhenitcomestoone’sownchildren—Ijustadoremychildren,M.Poirot.I’ddoanythingforthem.”
“Soyoudeclinetobelieveinthefamilylegend,madame?”
“Canalegendsawthroughanivystem?”
“Whatisthatyouaresaying,madame?”criedPoirot,anexpressionofgreatastonishmentonhisface.
“Isaid,canalegend—oraghost,ifyouliketocallitthat—sawthroughanivystem?I’mnotsayinganythingaboutCornwall.Anyboymightgoouttoofarandgetintodifficulties—thoughRonaldcouldswimwhenhewasfouryearsold.Buttheivy’sdifferent.Boththeboyswereverynaughty.They’ddiscoveredtheycouldclimbupanddownbytheivy.Theywerealwaysdoingit.Oneday—Geraldwasawayatthetime—Ronalddiditoncetoooften,andtheivygavewayandhefell.Fortunatelyhedidn’tdamagehimselfseriously.ButIwentoutandexaminedtheivy:itwascutthrough,M.Poirot—deliberatelycutthrough.”
“Itisveryseriouswhatyouaretellingmethere,madame.Yousayyouryoungerboywasawayfromhomeatthemoment?”
“Yes.”
“Andatthetimeoftheptomainepoisoning,washestillaway?”
“No,theywereboththere.”
“Curious,”murmuredPoirot.“Now,madame,whoaretheinmatesofyourestablishment?”
“MissSaunders,thechildren’sgoverness,andJohnGardiner,myhusband’ssecretary—”
Mrs.Lemesurierpaused,asthoughslightlyembarrassed.
“Andwhoelse,madame?”
“MajorRogerLemesurier,whomyoualsometonthatnight,Ibelieve,stayswithusagooddeal.”
“Ah,yes—heisacousinishenot?”
“Adistantcousin.Hedoesnotbelongtoourbranchofthefamily.Still,Isupposenowheismyhusband’snearestrelative.Heisadearfellow,andweareallveryfondofhim.Theboysaredevotedtohim.”
“Itwasnothewhotaughtthemtoclimbuptheivy?”
“Itmighthavebeen.Heincitesthemtomischiefoftenenough.”
“Madame,IapologizeforwhatIsaidtoyouearlier.Thedangerisreal,andIbelievethatIcanbeofassistance.Iproposethatyoushouldinviteusbothtostaywithyou.Yourhusbandwillnotobject?”
“Ohno.Buthewillbelieveittobeallofnouse.Itmakesmefuriousthewayhejustsitsaroundandexpectstheboytodie.”
“Calmyourself,madame.Letusmakeourarrangementsmethodically.”
III
Ourarrangementsweredulymade,andthefollowingdaysawusflyingnorthward.Poirotwassunkinareverie.Hecameoutofit,toremarkabruptly:“ItwasfromatrainsuchasthisthatVincentLemesurierfell?”
Heputaslightaccentonthe“fell.”
“Youdon’tsuspectfoulplaythere,surely?”Iasked.
“Hasitstruckyou,Hastings,thatsomeoftheLemesurierdeathswere,shallwesay,capableofbeingarranged?TakethatofVincent,forinstance.ThentheEtonboy—anaccidentwithagunisalwaysambiguous.Supposingthischildhadfallenfromthenurserywindowandbeendashedtodeath—whatmorenaturalandunsuspicious?Butwhyonlytheonechild,Hastings?Whoprofitsbythedeathoftheelderchild?Hisyoungerbrother,achildofseven!Absurd!”
“Theymeantodoawaywiththeotherlater,”Isuggested,thoughwiththevaguestideasastowho“they”were.
Poirotshookhisheadasthoughdissatisfied.
“Ptomainepoisoning,”hemused.“Atropinewillproducemuchthesamesymptoms.Yes,thereisneedforourpresence.”
Mrs.Lemesurierwelcomedusenthusiastically.Thenshetookustoherhusband’sstudyandleftuswithhim.HehadchangedagooddealsinceIsawhimlast.Hisshouldersstoopedmorethanever,andhisfacehadacuriouspalegreytinge.HelistenedwhilePoirotexplainedourpresenceinthehouse.
“HowexactlylikeSadie’spracticalcommonsense!”hesaidatlast.“Remainbyallmeans,M.Poirot,andIthankyouforcoming;but—whatiswritten,iswritten.Thewayofthetransgressorishard.WeLemesuriersknow—noneofuscanescapethedoom.”
Poirotmentionedthesawn-throughivy,butHugoseemedverylittleimpressed.
“Doubtlesssomecarelessgardener—yes,yes,theremaybeaninstrument,butthepurposebehindisplain;andIwilltellyouthis,M.Poirot,itcannotbelongdelayed.”
Poirotlookedathimattentively.
“Whydoyousaythat?”
“BecauseImyselfamdoomed.Iwenttoadoctorlastyear.Iamsufferingfromanincurabledisease—theendcannotbemuchlongerdelayed;butbeforeIdie,Ronaldwillbetaken.Geraldwillinherit.”
“Andifanythingweretohappentoyoursecondsonalso?”
“Nothingwillhappentohim;heisnotthreatened.”
“Butifitdid?”persistedPoirot.
“MycousinRogeristhenextheir.”
Wewereinterrupted.Atallmanwithagoodfigureandcrispycurlingauburnhairenteredwithasheafofpapers.
“Nevermindaboutthosenow,Gardiner,”saidHugoLemesurier,thenheadded:“Mysecretary,Mr.Gardiner.”
Thesecretarybowed,utteredafewpleasantwordsandthenwentout.Inspiteofhisgoodlooks,therewassomethingrepellentabouttheman.IsaidsotoPoirotshortlyafterwardwhenwewerewalkingroundthebeautifuloldgroundstogether,andrathertomysurprise,heagreed.
“Yes,yes,Hastings,youareright.Idonotlikehim.Heistoogood-looking.Hewouldbeoneforthesoftjobalways.Ah,herearethechildren.”
Mrs.Lemesurierwasadvancingtowardsus,hertwochildrenbesideher.Theywerefine-lookingboys,theyoungerdarklikehismother,theelderwithauburncurls.Theyshookhandsprettilyenough,andweresoonabsolutelydevotedtoPoirot.WewerenextintroducedtoMissSaunders,anondescriptfemale,whocompletedtheparty.
IV
Forsomedayswehadapleasant,easyexistence—evervigilant,butwithoutresult.Theboysledahappynormallifeandnothingseemedtobeamiss.OnthefourthdayafterourarrivalMajorRogerLemesuriercamedowntostay.Hewaslittlechanged,stillcarefreeanddebonairasofold,withthesamehabitoftreatingallthingslightly.Hewasevidentlyagreatfavouritewiththeboys,whogreetedhisarrivalwithshrieksofdelightandimmediatelydraggedhimofftoplaywildIndiansinthegarden.InoticedthatPoirotfollowedthemunobtrusively.
V
Onthefollowingdaywewereallinvitedtotea,boysincluded,withLadyClaygate,whoseplaceadjoinedthatoftheLemesuriers.Mrs.Lemesuriersuggestedthatwealsoshouldcome,butseemedratherrelievedwhenPoirotrefusedanddeclaredhewouldmuchprefertoremainathome.
Onceeveryonehadstarted,Poirotgottowork.Heremindedmeofanintelligentterrier.Ibelievethattherewasnocornerofthehousethatheleftunsearched;yetitwasalldonesoquietlyandmethodicallythatnoattentionwasdirectedtohismovements.Clearly,attheend,heremainedunsatisfied.WehadteaontheterracewithMissSaunders,whohadnotbeenincludedintheparty
“Theboyswillenjoyit,”shemurmuredinherfadedway,“thoughIhopetheywillbehavenicely,andnotdamagetheflower-beds,orgonearthebees—”
Poirotpausedintheveryactofdrinking.Helookedlikeamanwhohasseenaghost.
“Bees?”hedemandedinavoiceofthunder.
“Yes,M.Poirot,bees.Threehives.LadyClaygateisveryproudofherbees—”
“Bees?”criedPoirotagain.Thenhesprangfromthetableandwalkedupanddowntheterracewithhishandstohishead.Icouldnotimaginewhythelittlemanshouldbesoagitatedatthemerementionofbees.
Atthatmomentweheardthecarreturning.Poirotwasonthedoorstepasthepartyalighted.
“Ronald’sbeenstung,”criedGeraldexcitedly.
“It’snothing,”saidMrs.Lemesurier.“Ithasn’tevenswollen.Weputammoniaonit.”
“Letmesee,mylittleman,”saidPoirot.“Wherewasit?”
“Here,onthesideofmyneck,”saidRonaldimportantly.“Butitdoesn’thurt.Fathersaid:‘Keepstill—there’sabeeonyou.’AndIkeptstill,andhetookitoff,butitstungmefirst,thoughitdidn’treallyhurt,onlylikeapin,andIdidn’tcry,becauseI’msobigandgoingtoschoolnextyear.”
Poirotexaminedthechild’sneck,thendrewawayagain.Hetookmebythearmandmurmured:
“Tonight,monami,tonightwehavealittleaffairon!Saynothing—toanyone.”
Herefusedtobemorecommunicative,andIwentthroughtheeveningdevouredbycuriosity.HeretiredearlyandIfollowedhisexample.Aswewentupstairs,hecaughtmebythearmanddeliveredhisinstructions:
“Donotundress.Waitasufficienttime,extinguishyourlightandjoinmehere.”
Iobeyed,andfoundhimwaitingformewhenthetimecame.Heenjoinedsilenceonmewithagesture,andwecreptquietlyalongthenurserywing.Ronaldoccupiedasmallroomofhisown.Weentereditandtookupourpositioninthedarkestcorner.Thechild’sbreathingsoundedheavyandundisturbed.
“Surelyheissleepingveryheavily?”Iwhispered.
Poirotnodded.
“Drugged,”hemurmured.
“Why?”
“Sothatheshouldnotcryoutat—”
“Atwhat?”Iasked,asPoirotpaused.
“Attheprickofthehypodermicneedle,monami!Hush,letusspeaknomore—notthatIexpectanythingtohappenforsometime.”
VI
ButinthisPoirotwaswrong.Hardlytenminuteshadelapsedbeforethedooropenedsoftly,andsomeoneenteredtheroom.Iheardasoundofquickhurriedbreathing.Footstepsmovedtothebed,andthentherewasasuddenclick.Thelightofalittleelectriclanternfellonthesleepingchild—theholderofitwasstillinvisibleintheshadow.Thefigurelaiddownthelantern.Withtherighthanditbroughtforthasyringe;withtheleftittouchedtheboy’sneck—
PoirotandIsprangatthesameminute.Thelanternrolledtothefloor,andwestruggledwiththeintruderinthedark.Hisstrengthwasextraordinary.Atlastweovercamehim.
“Thelight,Hastings,Imustseehisface—thoughIfearIknowonlytoowellwhosefaceitwillbe.”
SodidI,IthoughtasIgropedforthelantern.ForamomentIhadsuspectedthesecretary,eggedonbymysecretdislikeoftheman,butIfeltassuredbynowthatthemanwhostoodtogainbythedeathofhistwochildishcousinswasthemonsterweweretracking.
Myfootstruckagainstthelantern.Ipickeditupandswitchedonthelight.Itshonefullonthefaceof—HugoLemesurier,theboy’sfather!
Thelanternalmostdroppedfrommyhand
“Impossible,”Imurmuredhoarsely.“Impossible!”
VII
Lemesurierwasunconscious.PoirotandIbetweenuscarriedhimtohisroomandlaidhimonthebed.Poirotbentandgentlyextricatedsomethingfromhisrighthand.Heshowedittome.Itwasahypodermicsyringe.Ishuddered.
“Whatisinit?Poison?”
“Formicacid,Ifancy.”
“Formicacid?”
“Yes.Probablyobtainedbydistillingants.Hewasachemist,youremember.Deathwouldhavebeenattributedtothebeesting.”
“MyGod,”Imuttered.“Hisownson!Andyouexpectedthis?”
Poirotnoddedgravely.
“Yes.Heisinsane,ofcourse.Iimaginethatthefamilyhistoryhasbecomeamaniawithhim.Hisintenselongingtosucceedtotheestateledhimtocommitthelongseriesofcrimes.PossiblytheideaoccurredtohimfirstwhentravellingnorththatnightwithVincent.Hecouldn’tbearthepredictiontobefalsified.Ronald’ssonwasalreadydead,andRonaldhimselfwasadyingman—theyareaweaklylot.Hearrangedtheaccidenttothegun,and—whichIdidnotsuspectuntilnow—contrivedthedeathofhisbrotherJohnbythissamemethodofinjectingformicacidintothejugularvein.Hisambitionwasrealizedthen,andhebecamethemasterofthefamilyacres.Buthistriumphwasshort-lived—hefoundthathewassufferingfromanincurabledisease.Andhehadthemadman’sfixedidea—theeldestsonofaLemesuriercouldnotinherit.Isuspectthatthebathingaccidentwasduetohim—heencouragedthechildtogoouttoofar.Thatfailing,hesawedthroughtheivy,andafterwardspoisonedthechild’sfood.”
“Diabolical!”Imurmuredwithashiver.“Andsocleverlyplanned!”
“Yes,monami,thereisnothingmoreamazingthantheextraordinarysanityoftheinsane!Unlessitistheextraordinaryeccentricityofthesane!Iimaginethatitisonlylatelythathehascompletelygoneovertheborderline,therewasmethodinhismadnesstobeginwith.”
“AndtothinkthatIsuspectedRoger—thatsplendidfellow.”
“Itwasthenaturalassumption,monami.WeknewthathealsotravellednorthwithVincentthatnight.Weknew,too,thathewasthenextheirafterHugoandHugo’schildren.Butourassumptionwasnotborneoutbythefacts.TheivywassawnthroughwhenonlylittleRonaldwasathome—butitwouldbetoRoger’sinterestthatbothchildrenshouldperish.Inthesameway,itwasonlyRonald’sfoodthatwaspoisoned.AndtodaywhentheycamehomeandIfoundthattherewasonlyhisfather’swordforitthatRonaldhadbeenstung,Irememberedtheotherdeathfromawaspsting—andIknew!”
VIII
HugoLemesurierdiedafewmonthslaterintheprivateasylumtowhichhewasremoved.HiswidowwasremarriedayearlatertoMr.JohnGardiner,theauburn-hairedsecretary.Ronaldinheritedthebroadacresofhisfather,andcontinuestoflourish.
“Well,well,”IremarkedtoPoirot.“Anotherillusiongone.YouhavedisposedverysuccessfullyofthecurseoftheLemesuriers.”
“Iwonder,”saidPoirotverythoughtfully.“Iwonderverymuchindeed.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Monami,Iwillansweryouwithonesignificantword—red!”
“Blood?”Iqueried,droppingmyvoicetoanawe-strickenwhisper.
“Alwaysyouhavetheimaginationmelodramatic,Hastings!Irefertosomethingmuchmoreprosaic—thecolouroflittleRonaldLemesurier’shair.”
Six
THECORNISHMYSTERY
I
Mrs.Pengelley,”announcedourlandlady,andwithdrewdiscreetly.
ManyunlikelypeoplecametoconsultPoirot,buttomymind,thewomanwhostoodnervouslyjustinsidethedoor,fingeringherfeatherneck-piece,wasthemostunlikelyofall.Shewassoextraordinarilycommonplace—athin,fadedwomanofaboutfifty,dressedinabraidedcoatandskirt,somegoldjewelleryatherneck,andwithhergreyhairsurmountedbyasingularlyunbecominghat.InacountrytownyoupassahundredMrs.Pengelleysinthestreeteveryday.
Poirotcameforwardandgreetedherpleasantly,perceivingherobviousembarrassment.
“Madame!Takeachair,Ibegofyou.Mycolleague,CaptainHastings.”
Theladysatdown,murmuringuncertainly:“YouareM.Poirot,thedetective?”
“Atyourservice,madame.”
Butourguestwasstilltongue-tied.Shesighed,twistedherfingers,andgrewsteadilyredderandredder.
“ThereissomethingIcandoforyou,eh,madame?”
“Well,Ithought—thatis—yousee—”
“Proceed,madame,Ibegofyou—proceed.”
Mrs.Pengelley,thusencouraged,tookagriponherself.
“It’sthisway,M.Poirot—Idon’twanttohaveanythingtodowiththepolice.No,Iwouldn’tgotothepoliceforanything!Butallthesame,I’msorelytroubledaboutsomething.AndyetIdon’tknowifIought—”Shestoppedabruptly.
“Me,Ihavenothingtodowiththepolice.Myinvestigationsarestrictlyprivate.”
Mrs.Pengelleycaughtattheword.
“Private—that’swhatIwant.Idon’twantanytalkorfuss,orthingsinthepapers.Wickeditis,thewaytheywritethings,untilthefamilycouldneverholduptheirheadsagain.Anditisn’tasthoughIwasevensure—it’sjustadreadfulideathat’scometome,andputitoutofmyheadIcan’t.”Shepausedforbreath.“AndallthetimeImaybewickedlywrongingpoorEdward.It’saterriblethoughtforanywifetohave.Butyoudoreadofsuchdreadfulthingsnowadays.”
“Permitme—itisofyourhusbandyouspeak?”
“Yes.”
“Andyoususpecthimof—what?”
“Idon’tlikeeventosayit,M.Poirot.Butyoudoreadofsuchthingshappening—andthepoorsoulssuspectingnothing.”
Iwasbeginningtodespairofthelady’severcomingtothepoint,butPoirot’spatiencewasequaltothedemandmadeuponit.
“Speakwithoutfear,madame.Thinkwhatjoywillbeyoursifweareabletoproveyoursuspicionsunfounded.”
“That’strue—anything’sbetterthanthiswearinguncertainty.Oh,M.Poirot,I’mdreadfullyafraidI’mbeingpoisoned.”
“Whatmakesyouthinkso?”
Mrs.Pengelley,herreticenceleavingher,plungedintoafullrecitalmoresuitedtotheearsofhermedicalattendant.
“Painandsicknessafterfood,eh?”saidPoirotthoughtfully.“Youhaveadoctorattendingyou,madame?Whatdoeshesay?”
“Hesaysit’sacutegastritis,M.Poirot.ButIcanseethathe’spuzzledanduneasy,andhe’salwaysalteringthemedicine,butnothingdoesanygood.”
“Youhavespokenofyour—fears,tohim?”
“No,indeed,M.Poirot.Itmightgetaboutinthetown.Andperhapsitisgastritis.Allthesame,it’sveryoddthatwheneverEdwardisawayfortheweekend,I’mquiteallrightagain.EvenFredanoticesthat—myniece,M.Poirot.Andthenthere’sthatbottleofweedkiller,neverused,thegardenersays,andyetit’shalf-empty.”
ShelookedappealinglyatPoirot.Hesmiledreassuringlyather,andreachedforapencilandnotebook.
“Letusbebusinesslike,madame.Now,then,youandyourhusbandreside—where?”
“Polgarwith,asmallmarkettowninCornwall.”
“Youhavelivedtherelong?”
“Fourteenyears.”
“Andyourhouseholdconsistsofyouandyourhusband.Anychildren?”
“No.”
“Butaniece,Ithinkyousaid?”
“Yes,FredaStanton,thechildofmyhusband’sonlysister.Shehaslivedwithusforthelasteightyears—thatis,untilaweekago.”
“Oh,andwhathappenedaweekago?”
“Thingshadn’tbeenverypleasantforsometime;Idon’tknowwhathadcomeoverFreda.Shewassorudeandimpertinent,andhertempersomethingshocking,andintheendsheflareduponeday,andoutshewalkedandtookroomsofherowninthetown.I’venotseenhersince.Betterleavehertocometohersenses,soMr.Radnorsays.”
“WhoisMr.Radnor?”
SomeofMrs.Pengelley’sinitialembarrassmentreturned.
“Oh,he’s—he’sjustafriend.Verypleasantyoungfellow.”
“Anythingbetweenhimandyourniece?”
“Nothingwhatever,”saidMrs.Pengelleyemphatically.
Poirotshiftedhisground.
“Youandyourhusbandare,Ipresume,incomfortablecircumstances?”
“Yes,we’reverynicelyoff.”
“Themoney,isityoursoryourhusband’s?”
“Oh,it’sallEdward’s.I’venothingofmyown.”
“Yousee,madame,tobebusinesslike,wemustbebrutal.Wemustseekforamotive.Yourhusband,hewouldnotpoisonyoujustpourpasserletemps!Doyouknowofanyreasonwhyheshouldwishyououtoftheway?”
“There’stheyellow-hairedhussywhoworksforhim,”saidMrs.Pengelley,withaflashoftemper.“Myhusband’sadentist,M.Poirot,andnothingwoulddobuthemusthaveasmartgirl,ashesaid,withbobbedhairandawhiteoverall,tomakehisappointmentsandmixhisfillingsforhim.It’scometomyearsthattherehavebeenfinegoings-on,thoughofcourseheswearsit’sallright.”
“Thisbottleofweedkiller,madame,whoorderedit?”
“Myhusband—aboutayearago.”
“Yourniece,now,hassheanymoneyofherown?”
“Aboutfiftypoundsayear,Ishouldsay.She’dbegladenoughtocomebackandkeephouseforEdwardifIlefthim.”
“Youhavecontemplatedleavinghim,then?”
“Idon’tintendtolethimhaveitallhisownway.Womenaren’tthedowntroddenslavestheywereintheolddays,M.Poirot.”
“Icongratulateyouonyourindependentspirit,madame;butletusbepractical.YoureturntoPolgarwithtoday?”
“Yes,Icameupbyanexcursion.Sixthismorningthetrainstarted,andthetraingoesbackatfivethisafternoon.”
“Bien!Ihavenothingofgreatmomentonhand.Icandevotemyselftoyourlittleaffair.TomorrowIshallbeinPolgarwith.ShallwesaythatHastings,here,isadistantrelativeofyours,thesonofyoursecondcousin?Me,Iamhiseccentricforeignfriend.Inthemeantime,eatonlywhatispreparedbyyourownhands,orunderyoureye.Youhaveamaidwhomyoutrust?”
“Jessieisaverygoodgirl,Iamsure.”
“Tilltomorrowthen,madame,andbeofgoodcourage.”
II
Poirotbowedtheladyout,andreturnedthoughtfullytohischair.Hisabsorptionwasnotsogreat,however,thathefailedtoseetwominutestrandsoffeatherscarfwrenchedoffbythelady’sagitatedfingers.Hecollectedthemcarefullyandconsignedthemtothewastepaperbasket.
“Whatdoyoumakeofthecase,Hastings?”
“Anastybusiness,Ishouldsay.”
“Yes,ifwhattheladysuspectsbetrue.Butisit?Woebetideanyhusbandwhoordersabottleofweedkillernowadays.Ifhiswifesuffersfromgastritis,andisinclinedtobeofahystericaltemperament,thefatisinthefire.”
“Youthinkthatisallthereistoit?”
“Ah—voilà—Idonotknow,Hastings.Butthecaseinterestsme—itinterestsmeenormously.For,yousee,ithaspositivelynonewfeatures.Hencethehystericaltheory,andyetMrs.Pengelleydidnotstrikemeasbeingahystericalwoman.Yes,ifImistakenot,wehavehereaverypoignanthumandrama.Tellme,Hastings,whatdoyouconsiderMrs.Pengelley’sfeelingstowardsherhusbandtobe?”
“Loyaltystrugglingwithfear,”Isuggested.
“Yet,ordinarily,awomanwillaccuseanyoneintheworld—butnotherhusband.Shewillsticktoherbeliefinhimthroughthickandthin.”
“The‘otherwoman’complicatesthematter.”
“Yes,affectionmayturntohate,underthestimulusofjealousy.Buthatewouldtakehertothepolice—nottome.Shewouldwantanoutcry—ascandal.No,no,letusexerciseourlittlegreycells.Whydidshecometome?Tohavehersuspicionsprovedwrong?Or—tohavethemprovedright?Ah,wehaveheresomethingIdonotunderstand—anunknownfactor.Issheasuperbactress,ourMrs.Pengelley?No,shewasgenuine,Iwouldswearthatshewasgenuine,andthereforeIaminterested.LookupthetrainstoPolgarwith,Iprayyou.”
III
Thebesttrainofthedaywastheone-fiftyfromPaddingtonwhichreachedPolgarwithjustafterseveno’clock.Thejourneywasuneventful,andIhadtorousemyselffromapleasantnaptoalightupontheplatformofthebleaklittlestation.WetookourbagstotheDuchyHotel,andafteralightmeal,Poirotsuggestedoursteppingroundtopayanafter-dinnercallonmyso-calledcousin
ThePengelleys’housestoodalittlewaybackfromtheroadwithanold-fashionedcottagegardeninfront.Thesmellofstocksandmignonettecamesweetlywaftedontheeveningbreeze.ItseemedimpossibletoassociatethoughtsofviolencewiththisOldWorldcharm.Poirotrangandknocked.Asthesummonswasnotanswered,herangagain.Thistime,afteralittlepause,thedoorwasopenedbyadishevelled-lookingservant.Hereyeswerered,andshewassniffingviolently.
“WewishtoseeMrs.Pengelley,”explainedPoirot.“Mayweenter?”
Themaidstared.Then,withunusualdirectness,sheanswered:“Haven’tyouheard,then?She’sdead.Diedthisevening—abouthalfanhourago.”
Westoodstaringather,stunned.
“Whatdidshedieof?”Iaskedatlast.
“There’ssomeascouldtell.”Shegaveaquickglanceoverhershoulder.“Ifitwasn’tthatsomebodyoughttobeinthehousewiththemissus,I’dpackmyboxandgotonight.ButI’llnotleaveherdeadwithnoonetowatchbyher.It’snotmyplacetosayanything,andI’mnotgoingtosayanything—buteverybodyknows.It’salloverthetown.AndifMr.Radnordon’twritetothe’OmeSecretary,someoneelsewill.Thedoctormaysaywhathelikes.Didn’tIseethemasterwithmyowneyesa-liftingdownoftheweedkillerfromtheshelfthisveryevening?Anddidn’thejumpwhenheturnedroundandsawmewatchingofhim?Andthemissus’gruelthereonthetable,allreadytotaketoher?NotanotherbitoffoodpassesmylipswhileIaminthishouse!NotifIdiesforit.”
“Wheredoesthedoctorlivewhoattendedyourmistress?”
“Dr.Adams.RoundthecornerinHighStreet.Thesecondhouse.”
Poirotturnedawayabruptly.Hewasverypale.
“Foragirlwhowasnotgoingtosayanything,thatgirlsaidalot,”Iremarkeddryly.
Poirotstruckhisclenchedhandintohispalm.
“Animbecile,acriminalimbecile,thatiswhatIhavebeen,Hastings.Ihaveboastedofmylittlegreycells,andnowIhavelostahumanlife,alifethatcametometobesaved.NeverdidIdreamthatanythingwouldhappensosoon.MaythegoodGodforgiveme,butIneverbelievedanythingwouldhappenatall.Herstoryseemedtomeartificial.Hereweareatthedoctor’s.Letusseewhathecantellus.”
IV
Dr.Adamswasthetypicalgenialred-facedcountrydoctoroffiction.Hereceiveduspolitelyenough,butatahintofourerrand,hisredfacebecamepurple.
“Damnednonsense!Damnednonsense,everywordofit!Wasn’tIinattendanceonthecase?Gastritis—gastritispureandsimple.Thistown’sahotbedofgossip—alotofscandal-mongeringoldwomengettogetherandinventGodknowswhat.Theyreadthesescurrilousragsofnewspapers,andnothingwillsuitthembutthatsomeoneintheirtownshallgetpoisonedtoo.Theyseeabottleofweedkilleronashelf—andheypresto!—awaygoestheirimaginationwiththebitbetweenhisteeth.IknowEdwardPengelley—hewouldn’tpoisonhisgrandmother’sdog.Andwhyshouldhepoisonhiswife?Tellmethat?”
“Thereisonething,M.leDocteur,thatperhapsyoudonotknow.”
And,verybriefly,PoirotoutlinedthemainfactsofMrs.Pengelley’svisittohim.NoonecouldhavebeenmoreastonishedthanDr.Adams.Hiseyesalmoststartedoutofhishead.
“Godblessmysoul!”heejaculated.“Thepoorwomanmusthavebeenmad.Whydidn’tshespeaktome?Thatwastheproperthingtodo.”
“Andhaveherfearsridiculed?”
“Notatall,notatall.IhopeI’vegotanopenmind.”
Poirotlookedathimandsmiled.Thephysicianwasevidentlymoreperturbedthanhecaredtoadmit.Asweleftthehouse,Poirotbrokeintoalaugh.
“Heisasobstinateasapig,thatone.Hehassaiditisgastritis;thereforeitisgastritis!Allthesame,hehastheminduneasy.”
“What’sournextstep?”
“Areturntotheinn,andanightofhorrorupononeofyourEnglishprovincialbeds,monami.Itisathingtomakepity,thecheapEnglishbed!”
“Andtomorrow?”
“Rienàfaire.Wemustreturntotownandawaitdevelopments.”
“That’sverytame,”Isaid,disappointed.“Supposetherearenone?”
“Therewillbe!Ipromiseyouthat.Ourolddoctormaygiveasmanycertificatesashepleases.Hecannotstopseveralhundredtonguesfromwagging.Andtheywillwagtosomepurpose,Icantellyouthat!”
Ourtrainfortownleftateleventhefollowingmorning.Beforewestartedforthestation,PoirotexpressedawishtoseeMissFredaStanton,theniecementionedtousbythedeadwoman.Wefoundthehousewhereshewaslodgingeasilyenough.Withherwasatall,darkyoungmanwhomsheintroducedinsomeconfusionasMr.JacobRadnor.
MissFredaStantonwasanextremelyprettygirloftheoldCornishtype—darkhairandeyesandrosycheeks.Therewasaflashinthosesamedarkeyeswhichtoldofatemperthatitwouldnotbewisetoprovoke.
“PoorAuntie,”shesaid,whenPoirothadintroducedhimself,andexplainedhisbusiness.“It’sterriblysad.I’vebeenwishingallthemorningthatI’dbeenkinderandmorepatient.”
“Youstoodagreatdeal,Freda,”interruptedRadnor.
“Yes,Jacob,butI’vegotasharptemper,Iknow.Afterall,itwasonlysillinessonAuntie’spart.Ioughttohavejustlaughedandnotminded.Ofcourse,it’sallnonsenseherthinkingthatUnclewaspoisoningher.Shewasworseafteranyfoodhegaveher—butI’msureitwasonlyfromthinkingaboutit.Shemadeuphermindshewouldbe,andthenshewas.”
“Whatwastheactualcauseofyourdisagreement,mademoiselle?”
MissStantonhesitated,lookingatRadnor.Thatyounggentlemanwasquicktotakethehint.
“Imustbegettingalong,Freda.Seeyouthisevening.Good-bye,gentlemen;you’reonyourwaytothestation,Isuppose?”
Poirotrepliedthatwewere,andRadnordeparted.
“Youareaffianced,isitnotso?”demandedPoirot,withaslysmile.
FredaStantonblushedandadmittedthatsuchwasthecase.
“AndthatwasreallythewholetroublewithAuntie,”sheadded.
“Shedidnotapproveofthematchforyou?”
“Oh,itwasn’tthatsomuch.Butyousee,she—”Thegirlcametoastop.
“Yes?”encouragedPoirotgently.
“Itseemsratherahorridthingtosayabouther—nowshe’sdead.Butyou’llneverunderstandunlessItellyou.AuntiewasabsolutelyinfatuatedwithJacob.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes,wasn’titabsurd?Shewasoverfifty,andhe’snotquitethirty!Butthereitwas.Shewassillyabouthim!Ihadtotellheratlastthatitwasmehewasafter—andshecarriedondreadfully.Shewouldn’tbelieveawordofit,andwassorudeandinsultingthatit’snowonderIlostmytemper.ItalkeditoverwithJacob,andweagreedthatthebestthingtodowasformetoclearoutforabittillshecametohersenses.PoorAuntie—Isupposeshewasinaqueerstatealtogether.”
“Itwouldcertainlyseemso.Thankyou,mademoiselle,formakingthingssocleartome.”
V
Alittletomysurprise,Radnorwaswaitingforusinthestreetbelow.
“IcanguessprettywellwhatFredahasbeentellingyou,”heremarked.“Itwasamostunfortunatethingtohappen,andveryawkwardforme,asyoucanimagine.Ineedhardlysaythatitwasnoneofmydoing.Iwaspleasedatfirst,becauseIimaginedtheoldwomanwashelpingonthingswithFreda.Thewholethingwasabsurd—butextremelyunpleasant.”
“WhenareyouandMissStantongoingtobemarried?”
“Soon,Ihope.Now,M.Poirot,I’mgoingtobecandidwithyou.IknowabitmorethanFredadoes.Shebelievesheruncletobeinnocent.I’mnotsosure.ButIcantellyouonething:I’mgoingtokeepmymouthshutaboutwhatIdoknow.Letsleepingdogslie.Idon’twantmywife’suncletriedandhangedformurder.”
“Whydoyoutellmeallthis?”
“BecauseI’veheardofyou,andIknowyou’reacleverman.It’squitepossiblethatyoumightferretoutacaseagainsthim.ButIputittoyou—whatgoodisthat?Thepoorwomanispasthelp,andshe’dhavebeenthelastpersontowantascandal—why,she’dturninhergraveatthemerethoughtofit.”
“Youareprobablyrightthere.Youwantmeto—hushitup,then?”
“That’smyidea.I’lladmitfranklythatI’mselfishaboutit.I’vegotmywaytomake—andI’mbuildingupagoodlittlebusinessasatailorandoutfitter.”
“Mostofusareselfish,Mr.Radnor.Notallofusadmititsofreely.Iwilldowhatyouask—butItellyoufranklyyouwillnotsucceedinhushingitup.”
“Whynot?”
Poirotheldupafinger.Itwasmarketday,andwewerepassingthemarket—abusyhumcamefromwithin.
“Thevoiceofthepeople—thatiswhy,Mr.Radnor.Ah,wemustrun,orweshallmissourtrain.”
VI
“Veryinteresting,isitnot,Hastings?”saidPoirot,asthetrainsteamedoutofthestation.
Hehadtakenoutasmallcombfromhispocket,alsoamicroscopicmirror,andwascarefullyarranginghismoustache,thesymmetryofwhichhadbecomeslightlyimpairedduringourbriskrun.
“Youseemtofinditso,”Ireplied.“Tome,itisallrathersordidandunpleasant.There’shardlyanymysteryaboutit.”
“Iagreewithyou;thereisnomysterywhatever.”
“Isupposewecanacceptthegirl’sratherextraordinarystoryofheraunt’sinfatuation?Thatseemedtheonlyfishyparttome.Shewassuchanice,respectablewoman.”
“Thereisnothingextraordinaryaboutthat—itiscompletelyordinary.Ifyoureadthepaperscarefully,youwillfindthatoftenanicerespectablewomanofthatageleavesahusbandshehaslivedwithfortwentyyears,andsometimesawholefamilyofchildrenaswell,inordertolinkherlifewiththatofayoungmanconsiderablyherjunior.Youlesfemmes,Hastings;youprostrateyourselfbeforeallofthemwhoaregood-lookingandhavethegoodtastetosmileuponyou;butpsychologicallyyouknownothingwhateveraboutthem.Intheautumnofawoman’slife,therecomesalwaysonemadmomentwhenshelongsforromance,foradventure—beforeitistoolate.Itcomesnonethelesssurelytoawomanbecausesheisthewifeofarespectabledentistinacountrytown!”
“Andyouthink—”
“Thataclevermanmighttakeadvantageofsuchamoment.”
“Ishouldn’tcallPengelleysoclever,”Imused.“He’sgotthewholetownbytheears.AndyetIsupposeyou’reright.Theonlytwomenwhoknowanything,Radnorandthedoctor,bothwanttohushitup.He’smanagedthatsomehow.Iwishwe’dseenthefellow.”
“Youcanindulgeyourwish.Returnbythenexttrainandinventanachingmolar.”
Ilookedathimkeenly.
“IwishIknewwhatyouconsideredsointerestingaboutthecase.”
“Myinterestisveryaptlysummedupbyaremarkofyours,Hastings.Afterinterviewingthemaid,youobservedthatforsomeonewhowasnotgoingtosayaword,shehadsaidagooddeal.”
“Oh!”Isaiddoubtfully;thenIharpedbacktomyoriginalcriticism:“IwonderwhyyoumadenoattempttoseePengelley?”
“Momami,Igivehimjustthreemonths.ThenIshallseehimforaslongasIplease—inthedock.”
VII
ForonceIthoughtPoirot’sprognosticationsweregoingtobeprovedwrong.Thetimewentby,andnothingtranspiredastoourCornishcase.Othermattersoccupiedus,andIhadnearlyforgottenthePengelleytragedywhenitwassuddenlyrecalledtomebyashortparagraphinthepaperwhichstatedthatanordertoexhumethebodyofMrs.PengelleyhadbeenobtainedfromtheHomeSecretary.
Afewdayslater,and“TheCornishMystery”wasthetopicofeverypaper.Itseemedthatgossiphadneverentirelydieddown,andwhentheengagementofthewidowertoMissMarks,hissecretary,wasannounced,thetonguesburstoutagainlouderthanever.FinallyapetitionwassenttotheHomeSecretary;thebodywasexhumed;largequantitiesofarsenicwerediscovered;andMr.Pengelleywasarrestedandchargedwiththemurderofhiswife.
PoirotandIattendedthepreliminaryproceedings.Theevidencewasmuchasmighthavebeenexpected.Dr.Adamsadmittedthatthesymptomsofarsenicalpoisoningmighteasilybemistakenforthoseofgastritis.TheHomeOfficeexpertgavehisevidence;themaidJessiepouredoutafloodofvolubleinformation,mostofwhichwasrejected,butwhichcertainlystrengthenedthecaseagainsttheprisoner.FredaStantongaveevidenceastoheraunt’sbeingworsewheneversheatefoodpreparedbyherhusband.JacobRadnortoldhowhehaddroppedinunexpectedlyonthedayofMrs.Pengelley’sdeath,andfoundPengelleyreplacingthebottleofweedkilleronthepantryshelf,Mrs.Pengelley’sgruelbeingonthetablecloseby.ThenMissMarks,thefair-hairedsecretary,wascalled,andweptandwentintohystericsandadmittedthattherehadbeen“passages”betweenherandheremployer,andthathehadpromisedtomarryherintheeventofanythinghappeningtohiswife.Pengelleyreservedhisdefenceandwassentfortrial.
VIII
JacobRadnorwalkedbackwithustoourlodgings.
“Yousee,Mr.Radnor,”saidPoirot,“Iwasright.Thevoiceofthepeoplespoke—andwithnouncertainvoice.Therewastobenohushingupofthiscase.”
“Youwerequiteright,”sighedRadnor.“Doyouseeanychanceofhisgettingoff?”
“Well,hehasreservedhisdefence.Hemayhavesomething—upthesleeves,asyouEnglishsay.Comeinwithus,willyounot?”
Radnoracceptedtheinvitation.Iorderedtwowhiskiesandsodasandacupofchocolate.Thelastordercausedconsternation,andImuchdoubtedwhetheritwouldeverputinanappearance.
“Ofcourse,”continuedPoirot,“Ihaveagooddealofexperienceinmattersofthiskind.AndIseeonlyoneloopholeofescapeforourfriend.”
“Whatisit?”
“Thatyoushouldsignthispaper.”
Withthesuddennessofaconjuror,heproducedasheetofpapercoveredwithwriting.
“Whatisit?”
“AconfessionthatyoumurderedMrs.Pengelley.”
Therewasamoment’spause;thenRadnorlaughed.
“Youmustbemad!”
“No,no,myfriend,Iamnotmad.Youcamehere;youstartedalittlebusiness;youwereshortofmoney.Mr.Pengelleywasamanverywell-to-do.Youmethisniece;shewasinclinedtosmileuponyou.ButthesmallallowancethatPengelleymighthavegivenheruponhermarriagewasnotenoughforyou.Youmustgetridofboththeuncleandtheaunt;thenthemoneywouldcometoher,sinceshewastheonlyrelative.Howcleverlyyousetaboutit!Youmadelovetothatplainmiddle-agedwomanuntilshewasyourslave.Youimplantedinherdoubtsofherhusband.Shediscoveredfirstthathewasdeceivingher—then,underyourguidance,thathewastryingtopoisonher.Youwereoftenatthehouse;youhadopportunitiestointroducethearsenicintoherfood.Butyouwerecarefulnevertodosowhenherhusbandwasaway.Beingawoman,shedidnotkeephersuspicionstoherself.Shetalkedtoherniece;doubtlessshetalkedtootherwomenfriends.Youronlydifficultywaskeepingupseparaterelationswiththetwowomen,andeventhatwasnotsodifficultasitlooked.Youexplainedtotheauntthat,toallaythesuspicionsofherhusband,youhadtopretendtopaycourttotheniece.Andtheyoungerladyneededlittleconvincing—shewouldneverseriouslyconsiderherauntasarival.
“ButthenMrs.Pengelleymadeuphermind,withoutsayinganythingtoyou,toconsultme.Ifshecouldbereallyassured,beyondanypossibledoubt,thatherhusbandwastryingtopoisonher,shewouldfeeljustifiedinleavinghim,andlinkingherlifewithyours—whichiswhatsheimaginedyouwantedhertodo.Butthatdidnotsuityourbookatall.Youdidnotwantadetectivepryingaround.Afavourableminuteoccurs.YouareinthehousewhenMr.Pengelleyisgettingsomegruelforhiswife,andyouintroducethefataldose.Therestiseasy.Apparentlyanxioustohushmattersup,yousecretlyfomentthem.ButyoureckonedwithoutHerculePoirot,myintelligentyoungfriend.”
Radnorwasdeadlypale,buthestillendeavouredtocarryoffmatterswithahighhand.
“Veryinterestingandingenious,butwhytellmeallthis?”
“Because,monsieur,Irepresent—notthelaw,butMrs.Pengelley.Forhersake,Igiveyouachanceofescape.Signthispaper,andyoushallhavetwenty-fourhours’start—twenty-fourhoursbeforeIplaceitinthehandsofthepolice.”
Radnorhesitated.
“Youcan’tproveanything.”
“Can’tI?IamHerculePoirot.Lookoutofthewindow,monsieur.Therearetwomeninthestreet.Theyhaveordersnottolosesightofyou.”
Radnorstrodeacrosstothewindowandpulledasidetheblind,thenshrankbackwithanoath.
“Yousee,monsieur?Sign—itisyourbestchance.”
“WhatguaranteehaveI—”
“ThatIshallkeepfaith?ThewordofHerculePoirot.Youwillsign?Good.Hastings,besokindastopullthatleft-handblindhalfwayup.ThatisthesignalthatMr.Radnormayleaveunmolested.”
White,mutteringoaths,Radnorhurriedfromtheroom.Poirotnoddedgently.
“Acoward!Ialwaysknewit.”
“Itseemstome,Poirot,thatyou’veactedinacriminalmanner,”Icriedangrily.“Youalwayspreachagainstsentiment.Andhereyouarelettingadangerouscriminalescapeoutofsheersentimentality.”
“Thatwasnotsentiment—thatwasbusiness,”repliedPoirot.“Doyounotsee,myfriend,thatwehavenoshadowofproofagainsthim?ShallIgetupandsaytotwelvestolidCornishmenthatI,HerculePoirot,know?Theywouldlaughatme.Theonlychancewastofrightenhimandgetaconfessionthatway.ThosetwoloafersthatInoticedoutsidecameinveryuseful.Pulldowntheblindagain,willyou,Hastings.Notthattherewasanyreasonforraisingit.Itwaspartofourmiseenscène.
“Well,well,wemustkeepourword.Twenty-fourhours,didIsay?SomuchlongerforpoorMr.Pengelley—anditisnotmorethanhedeserves;formarkyou,hedeceivedhiswife.Iamverystrongonthefamilylife,asyouknow.Ah,well,twenty-fourhours—andthen?IhavegreatfaithinScotlandYard.Theywillgethim,monami;theywillgethim.”
Seven
THEKINGOFCLUBS
I
Truth,”Iobserved,layingasidetheDailyNewsmonger,“isstrangerthanfiction!”
Theremarkwasnot,perhaps,anoriginalone.Itappearedtoincensemyfriend.Tiltinghisegg-shapedheadononeside,thelittlemancarefullyflickedanimaginaryfleckofdustfromhiscarefullycreasedtrousers,andobserved:“Howprofound!WhatathinkerismyfriendHastings!”
Withoutdisplayinganyannoyanceatthisquiteuncalled-forgibe,ItappedthesheetIhadlaidaside.
“You’vereadthismorning’spaper?”
“Ihave.Andafterreadingit,Ifoldeditanewsymmetrically.Ididnotcastitonthefloorasyouhavedone,withyoursolamentableabsenceoforderandmethod.”
(ThatistheworstofPoirot.OrderandMethodarehisgods.Hegoessofarastoattributeallhissuccesstothem.)
“ThenyousawtheaccountofthemurderofHenryReedburn,theimpresario?Itwasthatwhichpromptedmyremark.Notonlyistruthstrangerthanfiction—itismoredramatic.Thinkofthatsolidmiddle-classEnglishfamily,theOglanders.Fatherandmother,sonanddaughter,typicalofthousandsoffamiliesalloverthiscountry.Themenofthefamilygotothecityeveryday;thewomenlookafterthehouse.Theirlivesareperfectlypeaceful,andutterlymonotonous.LastnighttheyweresittingintheirneatsuburbandrawingroomatDaisymead,Streatham,playingbridge.Suddenly,withoutanywarning,thefrenchwindowburstsopen,andawomanstaggersintotheroom.Hergreysatinfrockismarkedwithacrimsonstain.Sheuttersoneword,“Murder!”beforeshesinkstothegroundinsensible.ItispossiblethattheyrecognizeherfromherpicturesasValerieSaintclair,thefamousdancerwhohaslatelytakenLondonbystorm!”
“Isthisyoureloquence,orthatoftheDailyNewsmonger?”inquiredPoirot.
“TheDailyNewsmongerwasinahurrytogotopress,andcontenteditselfwithbarefacts.Butthedramaticpossibilitiesofthestorystruckmeatonce.”
Poirotnoddedthoughtfully.“Whereverthereishumannature,thereisdrama.But—itisnotalwaysjustwhereyouthinkitis.Rememberthat.Still,Itooaminterestedinthecase,sinceitislikelythatIshallbeconnectedwithit.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes.Agentlemanrangmeupthismorning,andmadeanappointmentwithmeonbehalfofPrincePaulofMaurania.”
“Butwhathasthattodowithit?”
“YoudonotreadyourprettylittleEnglishscandal-papers.Theoneswiththefunnystories,and‘alittlemousehasheard—’or‘alittlebirdwouldliketoknow—’Seehere.”
Ifollowedhisshortstubbyfingeralongtheparagraph:“—whethertheforeignprinceandthefamousdancerarereallyaffinities!Andiftheladylikeshernewdiamondring!”
“Andnowtoresumeyoursodramaticnarrative,”saidPoirot.“MademoiselleSaintclairhadjustfaintedonthedrawingroomcarpetatDaisymead,youremember.”
Ishrugged.“AsaresultofMademoiselle’sfirstmurmuredwordswhenshecameround,thetwomaleOglanderssteppedout,onetofetchadoctortoattendtothelady,whowasevidentlysufferingterriblyfromshock,andtheothertothepolicestation—whenceaftertellinghisstory,heaccompaniedthepolicetoMonDésir,Mr.Reedburn’smagnificentvilla,whichissituatedatnogreatdistancefromDaisymead.Theretheyfoundthegreatman,whobythewaysuffersfromasomewhatunsavouryreputation,lyinginthelibrarywiththebackofhisheadcrackedopenlikeaneggshell.”
“Ihavecrampedyourstyle,”saidPoirotkindly.“Forgiveme,Ipray…Ah,hereisM.lePrince!”
OurdistinguishedvisitorwasannouncedunderthetitleofCountFeodor.Hewasastrange-lookingyouth,tall,eager,withaweakchin,thefamousMauranbergmouth,andthedarkfieryeyesofafanatic.
“M.Poirot?”
Myfriendbowed.
“Monsieur,Iaminterribletrouble,greaterthanIcanwellexpress—”
Poirotwavedhishand.“Icomprehendyouranxiety.MademoiselleSaintclairisaverydearfriend,isitnotso?”
Theprincerepliedsimply:“Ihopetomakehermywife.”
Poirotsatupinhischair,andhiseyesopened.
Theprincecontinued:“Ishouldnotbethefirstofmyfamilytomakeamorganaticmarriage.MybrotherAlexanderhasalsodefiedtheEmperor.Wearelivingnowinmoreenlighteneddays,freefromtheoldcaste-prejudice.Besides,MademoiselleSaintclair,inactualfact,isquitemyequalinrank.Youhaveheardhintsastoherhistory?”
“Therearemanyromanticstoriesofherorigin—notanuncommonthingwithfamousdancers.IhaveheardthatsheisthedaughterofanIrishcharwoman,alsothestorywhichmakeshermotheraRussiangrandduchess.”
“Thefirststoryis,ofcourse,nonsense,”saidtheyoungman.“Butthesecondistrue.Valerie,thoughboundtosecrecy,hasletmeguessasmuch.Besides,sheprovesitunconsciouslyinathousandways.Ibelieveinheredity,M.Poirot.”
“Itoobelieveinheredity,”saidPoirotthoughtfully.“Ihaveseensomestrangethingsinconnectionwithit—moiquivousparle…Buttobusiness,M.lePrince.Whatdoyouwantofme?Whatdoyoufear?Imayspeakfreely,mayInot?IsthereanythingtoconnectMademoiselleSaintclairwiththecrime?SheknewReedburnofcourse?”
“Yes.Heprofessedtobeinlovewithher.”
“Andshe?”
“Shewouldhavenothingtosaytohim.”
Poirotlookedathimkeenly.“Hadsheanyreasontofearhim?”
Theyoungmanhesitated.“Therewasanincident.YouknowZara,theclairvoyant?”
“No.”
“Sheiswonderful.Youshouldconsulthersometime.ValerieandIwenttoseeherlastweek.Shereadthecardsforus.ShespoketoValerieoftrouble—ofgatheringclouds;thensheturnedupthelastcard—thecoveringcard,theycallit.Itwasthekingofclubs.ShesaidtoValerie:‘Beware.Thereisamanwhoholdsyouinhispower.Youfearhim—youareingreatdangerthroughhim.YouknowwhomImean?’Valeriewaswhitetothelips.Shenoddedandsaid:‘Yes,yes,Iknow.’Shortlyafterwardsweleft.Zara’slastwordstoValeriewere:‘Bewareofthekingofclubs.Dangerthreatensyou!’IquestionedValerie.Shewouldtellmenothing—assuredmethatallwaswell.Butnow,afterlastnight,IammoresurethaneverthatinthekingofclubsValeriesawReedburn,andthathewasthemanshefeared.”
ThePrincepausedabruptly.“NowyouunderstandmyagitationwhenIopenedthepaperthismorning.SupposingValerie,inafitofmadness—oh,itisimpossible!”
Poirotrosefromhisseat,andpattedtheyoungmankindlyontheshoulder.“Donotdistressyourself,Ibegofyou.Leaveitinmyhands.”
“YouwillgotoStreatham?Igathersheisstillthere,atDaisymead—prostratedbytheshock.”
“Iwillgoatonce.”
“Ihavearrangedmatters—throughtheembassy.Youwillbeallowedaccesseverywhere.”
“Thenwewilldepart—Hastings,youwillaccompanyme?Aurevoir,M.lePrince.”
II
MonDésirwasanexceptionallyfinevilla,thoroughlymodernandcomfortable.Ashortcarriage-driveleduptoitfromtheroad,andbeautifulgardensextendedbehindthehouseforsomeacres.
OnmentioningPrincePaul’sname,thebutlerwhoansweredthedooratoncetookustothesceneofthetragedy.Thelibrarywasamagnificentroom,runningfrombacktofrontofthewholebuilding,withawindowateitherend,onegivingonthefrontcarriage-drive,andtheotheronthegarden.Itwasintherecessofthelatterthatthebodyhadlain.Ithadbeenremovednotlongbefore,thepolicehavingconcludedtheirexamination.
“Thatisannoying,”ImurmuredtoPoirot.“Whoknowswhatcluestheymayhavedestroyed?”
Mylittlefriendsmiled.“Eh—Eh!HowoftenmustItellyouthatcluescomefromwithin?Inthelittlegreycellsofthebrainliesthesolutionofeverymystery.”
Heturnedtothebutler.“Isuppose,exceptfortheremovalofthebody,theroomhasnotbeentouched?”
“No,sir.It’sjustasitwaswhenthepolicecameuplastnight.”
“Thesecurtains,now.Iseetheypullrightacrossthewindowrecess.Theyarethesameintheotherwindow.Weretheydrawnlastnight?”
“Yes,sir,Idrawthemeverynight.”
“ThenReedburnmusthavedrawnthembackhimself?”
“Isupposeso,sir.”
“Didyouknowyourmasterexpectedavisitorlastnight?”
“Hedidnotsayso,sir.Buthegaveordershewasnottobedisturbedafterdinner.Yousee,sir,thereisadoorleadingoutofthelibraryontotheterraceatthesideofthehouse.Hecouldhaveadmittedanyonethatway.”
“Washeinthehabitofdoingthat?”
Thebutlercougheddiscreetly.“Ibelieveso,sir.”
Poirotstrodetothedoorinquestion.Itwasunlocked.Hesteppedthroughitontotheterracewhichjoinedthedriveontheright;ontheleftitleduptoaredbrickwall.
“Thefruitgarden,sir.Thereisadoorleadingintoitfartheralong,butitwasalwayslockedatsixo’clock.”
Poirotnodded,andreenteredthelibrary,thebutlerfollowing.
“Didyouhearnothingoflastnight’sevents?”
“Well,sir,weheardvoicesinthelibrary,alittlebeforenine.Butthatwasn’tunusual,especiallybeingalady’svoice.Butofcourse,oncewewereallintheservants’hall,righttheotherside,wedidn’thearanythingatall.Andthen,abouteleveno’clock,thepolicecame.”
“Howmanyvoicesdidyouhear?”
“Icouldn’tsay,sir.Ionlynoticedthelady’s.”
“Ah!”
“Ibegpardon,sir,butDr.Ryanisstillinthehouse,ifyouwouldcaretoseehim.”
Wejumpedatthesuggestion,andinafewminutesthedoctor,acheery,middle-agedman,joinedus,andgavePoirotalltheinformationherequired.Reedburnhadbeenlyingnearthewindow,hisheadbythemarblewindowseat.Thereweretwowounds,onebetweentheeyes,andtheother,thefatalone,onthebackofthehead.
“Hewaslyingonhisback?”
“Yes.Thereisthemark.”Hepointedtoasmalldarkstainonthefloor.
“Couldnottheblowonthebackoftheheadhavebeencausedbyhisstrikingthefloor?”
“Impossible.Whatevertheweaponwas,itpenetratedsomedistanceintotheskull.”
Poirotlookedthoughtfullyinfrontofhim.Intheembrasureofeachwindowwasacarvedmarbleseat,thearmsbeingfashionedintheformofalion’shead.AlightcameintoPoirot’seyes.“Supposinghehadfallenbackwardsonthisprojectinglion’shead,andslippedfromtheretotheground.Wouldnotthatcauseawoundsuchasyoudescribe?”
“Yes,itwould.Buttheangleatwhichhewaslyingmakesthattheoryimpossible.Andbesidestherecouldnotfailtobetracesofbloodonthemarbleoftheseat.”
“Unlesstheywerewashedaway?”
Thedoctorshruggedhisshoulders.“Thatishardlylikely.Itwouldbetonoone’sadvantagetogiveanaccidenttheappearanceofmurder.”
“Quiteso,”acquiescedPoirot.“Couldeitheroftheblowshavebeenstruckbyawoman,doyouthink?”
“Oh,quiteoutofthequestion,Ishouldsay.YouarethinkingofMademoiselleSaintclair,Isuppose?”
“IthinkofnooneinparticularuntilIamsure,”saidPoirotgently.
Heturnedhisattentiontotheopenfrenchwindow,andthedoctorcontinued:
“ItisthroughherethatMademoiselleSaintclairfled.YoucanjustcatchaglimpseofDaisymeadbetweenthetrees.Ofcourse,therearemanyhousesnearertothefrontofthehouseontheroad,butasithappens,Daisymead,thoughsomedistanceaway,istheonlyhousevisiblethisside.”
“Thankyouforyouramiability,Doctor,”saidPoirot.“Come,Hastings,wewillfollowthefootstepsofMademoiselle.”
III
Poirotledthewaydownthroughthegarden,outthroughanirongate,acrossashortstretchofgreenandinthroughthegardengateofDaisymead,whichwasanunpretentiouslittlehouseinabouthalfanacreofground.Therewasasmallflightofstepsleadinguptoafrenchwindow.Poirotnoddedintheirdirection.
“ThatisthewayMademoiselleSaintclairwent.Forus,whohavenotherurgencytoplead,itwillbebettertogoroundtothefrontdoor.”
Amaidadmittedusandtookusintothedrawingroom,thenwentinsearchofMrs.Oglander.Theroomhadevidentlynotbeentouchedsincethenightbefore.Theasheswerestillinthegrate,andthebridgetablewasstillinthecentreoftheroom,withadummyexposed,andthehandsthrowndown.Theplacewassomewhatoverloadedwithgimcrackornaments,andagoodmanyfamilyportraitsofsurpassinguglinessadornedthewalls.
PoirotgazedatthemmorelenientlythanIdid,andstraightenedoneortwothatwerehangingashadeaskew.“Lafamille,itisastrongtie,isitnot?Sentiment,ittakestheplaceofbeauty.”
Iagreed,myeyesbeingfixedonafamilygroupcomprisingagentlemanwithwhiskers,aladywithahigh“front”ofhair,asolid,thick-setboy,andtwolittlegirlstiedupwithagoodmanyunnecessarybowsofribbon.ItookthistobetheOglanderfamilyinearlierdays,andstudieditwithinterest.
Thedooropened,andayoungwomancamein.Herdarkhairwasneatlyarranged,andsheworeadrab-colouredsportscoatandatweedskirt.
Shelookedatusinquiringly.Poirotsteppedforward.“MissOglander?Iregrettoderangeyou—especiallyafterallyouhavebeenthrough.Thewholeaffairmusthavebeenmostdisturbing.”
“Ithasbeenratherupsetting,”admittedtheyoungladycautiously.IbegantothinkthattheelementsofdramawerewastedonMissOglander,thatherlackofimaginationrosesuperiortoanytragedy.Iwasconfirmedinthisbeliefasshecontinued:“Imustapologizeforthestatethisroomisin.Servantsgetsofoolishlyexcited.”
“Itwasherethatyouweresittinglastnight,n’est-cepas?”
“Yes,wewereplayingbridgeaftersupper,when—”
“Excuseme—howlonghadyoubeenplaying?”
“Well—”MissOglanderconsidered.“Ireallycan’tsay.Isupposeitmusthavebeenaboutteno’clock.Wehadhadseveralrubbers,Iknow.”
“Andyouyourselfweresitting—where?”
“Facingthewindow.Iwasplayingwithmymotherandhadgoneonenotrump.Suddenly,withoutanywarning,thewindowburstopen,andMissSaintclairstaggeredintotheroom.”
“Yourecognizedher?”
“Ihadavagueideaherfacewasfamiliar.”
“Sheisstillhere,isshenot?”
“Yes,butsherefusestoseeanyone.Sheisstillquiteprostrated.”
“Ithinkshewillseeme.WillyoutellherthatIamhereattheexpressrequestofPrincePaulofMaurania?”
IfanciedthatthementionofaroyalprincerathershookMissOglander’simperturbablecalm.Butshelefttheroomonhererrandwithoutanyfurtherremark,andreturnedalmostimmediatelytosaythatMademoiselleSaintclairwouldseeusinherroom.
Wefollowedherupstairs,andintoafair-sizedlightbedroom.Onacouchbythewindowawomanwaslyingwhoturnedherheadasweentered.Thecontrastbetweenthetwowomenstruckmeatonce,themoresoasinactualfeaturesandcolouringtheywerenotunalike—butoh,thedifference!Notalook,notagestureofValerieSaintclair’sbutexpresseddrama.Sheseemedtoexhaleanatmosphereofromance.Ascarletflanneldressinggowncoveredherfeet—ahomelygarmentinallconscience;butthecharmofherpersonalityinvesteditwithanexoticflavour,anditseemedanEasternrobeofglowingcolour.
HerlargedarkeyesfastenedthemselvesonPoirot.
“YoucomefromPaul?”Hervoicematchedherappearance—itwasfullandlanguid.
“Yes,mademoiselle.Iamheretoservehim—andyou.”
“Whatdoyouwanttoknow?”
“Everythingthathappenedlastnight.Buteverything!”
Shesmiledratherwearily.
“DoyouthinkIshouldlie?Iamnotstupid.Iseewellenoughthattherecanbenoconcealment.Heheldasecretofmine,thatmanwhoisdead.Hethreatenedmewithit.ForPaul’ssake,Iendeavouredtomaketermswithhim.IcouldnotrisklosingPaul…Nowthatheisdead,Iamsafe.Butforallthat,Ididnotkillhim.”
Poirotshookhisheadwithasmile.“Itisnotnecessarytotellmethat,mademoiselle.Nowrecounttomewhathappenedlastnight.”
“Iofferedhimmoney.Heappearedtobewillingtotreatwithme.Heappointedlastnightatnineo’clock.IwastogotoMonDésir.Iknewtheplace;Ihadbeentherebefore.Iwastogoroundtothesidedoorintothelibrary,sothattheservantsshouldnotseeme.”
“Excuseme,mademoiselle,butwereyounotafraidtotrustyourselfalonethereatnight?”
Wasitmyfancy,orwasthereamomentarypausebeforesheanswered?
“PerhapsIwas.Butyousee,therewasnooneIcouldasktogowithme.AndIwasdesperate.Reedburnadmittedmetothelibrary.Oh,thatman!Iamgladheisdead!Heplayedwithme,asacatdoeswithamouse.Hetauntedme.Ibeggedandimploredhimonmyknees.IofferedhimeveryjewelIhave.Allinvain!Thenhenamedhisownterms.Perhapsyoucanguesswhattheywere.Irefused.ItoldhimwhatIthoughtofhim.Iravedathim.Heremainedcalmlysmiling.Andthen,asIfelltosilenceatlast,therewasasound—frombehindthecurtaininthewindow…Heheardittoo.Hestrodetothecurtainsandflungthemwideapart.Therewasamanthere,hiding—adreadful-lookingman,asortoftramp.HestruckatMr.Reedburn—thenhestruckagain,andhewentdown.Thetrampclutchedatmewithhisbloodstainedhand.Itoremyselffree,slippedthroughthewindow,andranformylife.ThenIperceivedthelightsinthishouse,andmadeforthem.Theblindswereup,andIsawsomepeopleplayingbridge.Ialmostfellintotheroom.Ijustmanagedtogaspout‘Murder!’andtheneverythingwentblack—”
“Thankyou,mademoiselle.Itmusthavebeenagreatshocktoyournervoussystem.Astothistramp,couldyoudescribehim?Doyourememberwhathewaswearing?”
“No—itwasallsoquick.ButIshouldknowthemananywhere.Hisfaceisburntinonmybrain.”
“Justonemorequestion,mademoiselle.Thecurtainsoftheotherwindow,theonegivingonthedrive,weretheydrawn?”
Forthefirsttimeapuzzledexpressioncreptoverthedancer’sface.Sheseemedtobetryingtoremember.
“Ehbien,mademoiselle?”
“Ithink—Iamalmostsure—yes,quitesure!Theywerenotdrawn.”
“Thatiscurious,sincetheotheroneswere.Nomatter.Itis,Idaresay,ofnogreatimportance.Youareremainingherelong,mademoiselle?”
“ThedoctorthinksIshallbefittoreturntotowntomorrow.”Shelookedroundtheroom.MissOglanderhadgoneout.“Thesepeople,theyareverykind—buttheyarenotofmyworld.Ishockthem!Andtome—well,Iamnotfondofthebourgeoisie!”
Afaintnoteofbitternessunderlayherwords.
Poirotnodded.“Iunderstand.IhopeIhavenotfatiguedyouundulywithmyquestions?”
“Notatall,monsieur.IamonlytooanxiousPaulshouldknowallassoonaspossible.”
“ThenIwillwishyougoodday,mademoiselle.”
AsPoirotwasleavingtheroom,hepaused,andpouncedonapairofpatent-leatherslippers.“Yours,mademoiselle?”
“Yes,monsieur.Theyhavejustbeencleanedandbroughtup.”
“Ah!”saidPoirot,aswedescendedthestairs.“Itseemsthatthedomesticsarenottooexcitedtocleanshoes,thoughtheyforgetagrate.Well,monami,atfirstthereappearedtobeoneortwopointsofinterest,butIfear,Iverymuchfear,thatwemustregardthecaseasfinished.Itallseemsstraightforwardenough.”
“Andthemurderer?”
“HerculePoirotdoesnothuntdowntramps,”repliedmyfriendgrandiloquently.
IV
MissOglandermetusinthehall.“Ifyouwillwaitinthedrawingroomaminute,Mammawouldliketospeaktoyou.”
Theroomwasstilluntouched,andPoirotidlygatheredupthecards,shufflingthemwithhistiny,fastidiouslygroomedhands.
“DoyouknowwhatIthink,myfriend?”
“No?”Isaideagerly.
“IthinkthatMissOglandermadeamistakeingoingonenotrump.Sheshouldhavegonethreespades.”
“Poirot!Youarethelimit.”
“MonDieu,Icannotalwaysbetalkingbloodandthunder!”
Suddenlyhestiffened:“Hastings—Hastings.See!Thekingofclubsismissingfromthepack!”
“Zara!”Icried.
“Eh?”hedidnotseemtounderstandmyallusion.Mechanicallyhestackedthecardsandputthemawayintheircases.Hisfacewasverygrave.
“Hastings,”hesaidatlast,“I,HerculePoirot,havecomeneartomakingabigmistake—averybigmistake.”
Igazedathim,impressed,bututterlyuncomprehending.
“Wemustbeginagain,Hastings.Yes,wemustbeginagain.Butthistimeweshallnoterr.”
Hewasinterruptedbytheentranceofahandsomemiddle-agedlady.Shecarriedsomehouseholdbooksinherhand.Poirotbowedtoher.
“DoIunderstand,sir,thatyouareafriendof—er—MissSaintclair’s?”
“Icomefromafriendofhers,madame.”
“Oh,Isee.Ithoughtperhaps—”
Poirotsuddenlywavedbrusquelyatthewindow.
“Yourblindswerenotpulleddownlastnight?”
“No—IsupposethatiswhyMissSaintclairsawthelightsoplainly.”
“Therewasmoonlightlastnight.IwonderthatyoudidnotseeMademoiselleSaintclairfromyourseatherefacingthewindows?”
“Isupposewewereengrossedwithourgame.Nothinglikethishaseverhappenedbeforetous.”
“Icanquitebelievethat,madame.AndIwillputyourmindatrest.MademoiselleSaintclairisleavingtomorrow.”
“Oh!”Thegoodlady’sfacecleared.
“AndIwillwishyougoodmorning,madame.”
Aservantwascleaningthestepsaswewentoutofthefrontdoor.Poirotaddressedher.
“Wasityouwhocleanedtheshoesoftheyoungladyupstairs?”
Themaidshookherhead.“No,sir.Idon’tthinkthey’vebeencleaned.”
“Whocleanedthem,then?”IinquiredofPoirot,aswewalkeddowntheroad.
“Nobody.Theydidnotneedcleaning.”
“Igrantthatwalkingontheroadorpathonafinenightwouldnotsoilthem.Butsurelyaftergoingthroughthelonggrassofthegarden,theywouldhavebeensoiledandstained.”
“Yes,”saidPoirotwithacurioussmile.“Inthatcase,Iagree,theywouldhavebeenstained.”
“But—”
“Havepatiencealittlehalfhour,myfriend.WearegoingbacktoMonDésir.”
V
Thebutlerlookedsurprisedatourreappearance,butofferednoobjectiontoourreturningtothelibrary.
“Hi,that’sthewrongwindow,Poirot,”Icriedashemadefortheoneoverlookingthecarriage-drive.
“Ithinknot,myfriend.Seehere.”Hepointedtothemarblelion’shead.Onitwasafaintdiscolouredsmear.Heshiftedhisfingerandpointedtoasimilarstainonthepolishedfloor.
“SomeonestruckReedburnablowwithhisclenchedfistbetweentheeyes.Hefellbackwardonthisprojectingbitofmarble,thenslippedtothefloor.Afterwards,hewasdraggedacrossthefloortotheotherwindow,andlaidthereinstead,butnotquiteatthesameangle,astheDoctor’sevidencetoldus.”
“Butwhy?Itseemsutterlyunnecessary.”
“Onthecontrary,itwasessential.Also,itisthekeytothemurderer’sidentity—though,bytheway,hehadnointentionofkillingReedburn,andsoitishardlypermissibletocallhimamurderer.Hemustbeaverystrongman!”
“Becauseofhavingdraggedthebodyacrossthefloor?”
“Notaltogether.Ithasbeenaninterestingcase.Inearlymadeanimbecileofmyself,though.”
“Doyoumeantosayitisover,thatyouknoweverything?”
“Yes.”
Aremembrancesmoteme.“No,”Icried.“Thereisonethingyoudonotknow!”
“Andthat?”
“Youdonotknowwherethemissingkingofclubsis!”
“Eh?Oh,thatisdroll!Thatisverydroll,myfriend.”
“Why?”
“Becauseitisinmypocket!”Hedrewitforthwithaflourish.
“Oh!”Isaid,rathercrestfallen.“Wheredidyoufindit?Here?”
“Therewasnothingsensationalaboutit.Ithadsimplynotbeentakenoutwiththeothercards.Itwasinthebox.”
“H’m!Allthesame,itgaveyouanidea,didn’tit?”
“Yes,myfriend.IpresentmyrespectstoHisMajesty.”
“AndtoMadameZara!”
“Ah,yes—totheladyalso.”
“Well,whatarewegoingtodonow?”
“Wearegoingtoreturntotown.ButImusthaveafewwordswithacertainladyatDaisymeadfirst.”
Thesamelittlemaidopenedthedoortous.
“They’reallatlunchnow,sir—unlessit’sMissSaintclairyouwanttosee,andshe’sresting.”
“ItwilldoifIcanseeMrs.Oglanderforafewminutes.Willyoutellher?”
Wewereledintothedrawingroomtowait.Ihadaglimpseofthefamilyinthediningroomaswepassed,nowreinforcedbythepresenceoftwoheavy,solid-lookingmen,onewithamoustache,theotherwithabeardalso.
InafewminutesMrs.Oglandercameintotheroom,lookinginquiringlyatPoirot,whobowed.
“Madame,we,inourcountry,haveagreattenderness,agreatrespectforthemother.Themèredefamille,sheiseverything!”
Mrs.Oglanderlookedratherastonishedatthisopening.
“ItisforthatreasonthatIhavecome—toallayamother’sanxiety.ThemurdererofMr.Reedburnwillnotbediscovered.Havenofear.I,HerculePoirot,tellyouso.Iamright,amInot?OrisitawifethatImustreassure?”
Therewasamoment’spause.Mrs.OglanderseemedsearchingPoirotwithhereyes.Atlastshesaidquietly:“Idon’tknowhowyouknow—butyes,youareright.”
Poirotnoddedgravely.“Thatisall,madame.Butdonotbeuneasy.YourEnglishpolicemenhavenottheeyesofHerculePoirot.”Hetappedthefamilyportraitonthewallwithhisfingernail.
“Youhadanotherdaughteronce.Sheisdead,madame?”
Againtherewasapause,asshesearchedhimwithhereyes.Thensheanswered:“Yes,sheisdead.”
“Ah!”saidPoirotbriskly.“Well,wemustreturntotown.YoupermitthatIreturnthekingofclubstothepack?Itwasyouronlyslip.Youunderstand,tohaveplayedbridgeforanhourorso,withonlyfifty-onecards—well,noonewhoknowsanythingofthegamewouldcredititforaminute!Bonjour!”
“Andnow,myfriend,”saidPoirotaswesteppedtowardsthestation,“youseeitall!”
“Iseenothing!WhokilledReedburn?”
“JohnOglander,Junior.Iwasnotquitesureifitwasthefatherortheson,butIfixedonthesonasbeingthestrongerandyoungerofthetwo.Ithadtobeoneofthem,becauseofthewindow.”
“Why?”
“Therewerefourexitsfromthelibrary—twodoors,twowindows;butevidentlyonlyonewoulddo.Threeexitsgaveonthefront,directlyorindirectly.ThetragedyhadtooccurinthebackwindowinordertomakeitappearthatValerieSaintclaircametoDaisymeadbychance.Really,ofcourse,shefainted,andJohnOglandercarriedheracrossover
“Didtheygotheretogether,then?”
“Yes.YourememberValerie’shesitationwhenIaskedherifshewasnotafraidtogoalone?JohnOglanderwentwithher—whichdidn’timproveReedburn’stemper,Ifancy.Theyquarrelled,anditwasprobablysomeinsultlevelledatValeriethatmadeOglanderhithim.Therest,youknow.”
“Butwhythebridge?”
“Bridgepresupposesfourplayers.Asimplethinglikethatcarriesalotofconviction.Whowouldhavesupposedthattherehadbeenonlythreepeopleinthatroomalltheevening?”
Iwasstillpuzzled.
“There’sonethingIdon’tunderstand.WhathavetheOglanderstodowiththedancerValerieSaintclair?”
“Ah,thatIwonderyoudidnotsee.Andyetyoulookedlongenoughatthatpictureonthewall—longerthanIdid.Mrs.Oglander’sotherdaughtermaybedeadtoherfamily,buttheworldknowsherasValerieSaintclair!”
“What?”
“Didyounotseetheresemblancethemomentyousawthetwosisterstogether?”
“No,”Iconfessed.“Ionlythoughthowextraordinarilydissimilartheywere.”
“Thatisbecauseyourmindissoopentoexternalromanticimpressions,mydearHastings.Thefeaturesarealmostidentical.Soisthecolouring.TheinterestingthingisthatValerieisashamedofherfamily,andherfamilyisashamedofher.Nevertheless,inamomentofperil,sheturnedtoherbrotherforhelp,andwhenthingswentwrong,theyallhungtogetherinaremarkableway.Familystrengthisamarvellousthing.Theycanallact,thatfamily.ThatiswhereValeriegetsherhistrionictalentfrom.I,likePrincePaul,believeinheredity!Theydeceivedme!Butforaluckyaccident,andtestquestiontoMrs.OglanderbywhichIgothertocontradictherdaughter’saccountofhowtheyweresitting,theOglanderfamilywouldhaveputadefeatonHerculePoirot.”
“WhatshallyoutellthePrince?”
“ThatValeriecouldnotpossiblyhavecommittedthecrime,andthatIdoubtifthattrampwilleverbefound.Also,toconveymycomplimentstoZara.Acuriouscoincidence,that!IthinkIshallcallthislittleaffairtheAdventureoftheKingofClubs.Whatdoyouthink,myfriend?”
Eight
THESUBMARINEPLANS
I
Anotehadbeenbroughtbyspecialmessenger.Poirotreadit,andagleamofexcitementandinterestcameintohiseyesashedidso.Hedismissedthemanwithafewcurtwordsandthenturnedtome.
“Packabagwithallhaste,myfriend.We’regoingdowntoSharples.”
IstartedatthementionofthefamouscountryplaceofLordAlloway.HeadofthenewlyformedMinistryofDefence,LordAllowaywasaprominentmemberoftheCabinet.AsSirRalphCurtis,headofagreatengineeringfirm,hehadmadehismarkintheHouseofCommons,andhewasnowfreelyspokenofasthecomingman,andtheonemostlikelytobeaskedtoformaministryshouldtherumoursastoMr.DavidMacAdam’shealthprovewellfounded.
AbigRolls-Roycecarwaswaitingforusbelow,andasweglidedoffintothedarkness,IpliedPoirotwithquestions
“Whatonearthcantheywantusforatthistimeofnight?”Idemanded.Itwaspasteleven.
Poirotshookhishead.“Somethingofthemosturgent,withoutdoubt.”
“Iremember,”Isaid,“thatsomeyearsagotherewassomeratheruglyscandalaboutRalphCurtis,ashethenwas—somejugglerywithshares,Ibelieve.Intheend,hewascompletelyexonerated;butperhapssomethingofthekindhasarisenagain?”
“Itwouldhardlybenecessaryforhimtosendformeinthemiddleofthenight,myfriend.”
Iwasforcedtoagree,andtheremainderofthejourneywaspassedinsilence.OnceoutofLondon,thepowerfulcarforgedrapidlyahead,andwearrivedatSharplesinalittleunderthehour.
ApontificalbutlerconductedusatoncetoasmallstudywhereLordAllowaywasawaitingus.Hespranguptogreetus—atall,sparemanwhoseemedactuallytoradiatepowerandvitality.
“M.Poirot,Iamdelightedtoseeyou.Itisthesecondtimethegovernmenthasdemandedyourservices.Irememberonlytoowellwhatyoudidforusduringthewar,whenthePrimeMinisterwaskidnappedinthatastoundingfashion.Yourmasterlydeductions—andmayIadd,yourdiscretion?—savedthesituation.”
Poirot’seyestwinkledalittle.
“DoIgatherthen,milor’,thatthisisanothercasefor—discretion?”
“Mostemphatically.SirHarryandI—oh,letmeintroduceyou—AdmiralSirHarryWeardale,ourFirstSeaLord—M.Poirotand—letmesee,Captain—”
“Hastings,”Isupplied.
“I’veoftenheardofyou,M.Poirot,”saidSirHarry,shakinghands.“Thisisamostunaccountablebusiness,andifyoucansolveit,we’llbeextremelygratefultoyou.”
IlikedtheFirstSeaLordimmediately,asquare,bluffsailorofthegoodold-fashionedtype.
Poirotlookedinquiringlyatthemboth,andAllowaytookupthetale.
“Ofcourse,youunderstandthatallthisisinconfidence,M.Poirot.Wehavehadamostseriousloss.TheplansofthenewZtypeofsubmarinehavebeenstolen.”
“Whenwasthat?”
“Tonight—lessthanthreehoursago.Youcanappreciateperhaps,M.Poirot,themagnitudeofthedisaster.Itisessentialthatthelossshouldnotbemadepublic.Iwillgiveyouthefactsasbrieflyaspossible.MyguestsovertheweekendweretheAdmiral,here,hiswifeandson,andMrs.Conrad,aladywellknowninLondonsociety.Theladiesretiredtobedearly—aboutteno’clock;sodidMr.LeonardWeardale.SirHarryisdownherepartlyforthepurposeofdiscussingtheconstructionofthisnewtypeofsubmarinewithme.Accordingly,IaskedMr.Fitzroy,mysecretary,togetouttheplansfromthesafeinthecornerthere,andtoarrangethemreadyforme,aswellasvariousotherdocumentsthatboreuponthesubjectinhand.Whilehewasdoingthis,theAdmiralandIstrolledupanddowntheterrace,smokingcigarsandenjoyingthewarmJuneair.Wefinishedoursmokeandourchat,anddecidedtogetdowntobusiness.Justasweturnedatthefarendoftheterrace,IfanciedIsawashadowslipoutofthefrenchwindowhere,crosstheterrace,anddisappear.Ipaidverylittleattention,however.IknewFitzroytobeinthisroom,anditneverenteredmyheadthatanythingmightbeamiss.There,ofcourse,Iamtoblame.Well,weretracedourstepsalongtheterraceandenteredthisroombythewindowjustasFitzroyentereditfromthehall.
“‘Goteverythingoutwearelikelytoneed,Fitzroy?’Iasked.
“‘Ithinkso,LordAlloway.Thepapersareallonyourdesk,’heanswered.Andthenhewishedusbothgoodnight.
“‘Justwaitaminute,’Isaid,goingtothedesk.‘ImaywantsomethingIhaven’tmentioned.’
“Ilookedquicklythroughthepapersthatwerelyingthere.”
“‘You’veforgottenthemostimportantofthelot,Fitzroy,’Isaid.‘Theactualplansofthesubmarine!’
“‘Theplansarerightontop,LordAlloway.’
“‘Ohno,they’renot,’Isaid,turningoverthepapers.
“‘ButIputthemtherenotaminuteago!’
“‘Well,they’renotherenow,’Isaid.
“Fitzroyadvancedwithabewilderedexpressiononhisface.Thethingseemedincredible.Weturnedoverthepapersonthedesk;wehuntedthroughthesafe;butatlastwehadtomakeupourmindstoitthatthepapersweregone—andgonewithintheshortspaceofaboutthreeminuteswhileFitzroywasabsentfromtheroom.”
“Whydidheleavetheroom?”askedPoirotquickly.
“JustwhatIaskedhim,”exclaimedSirHarry.
“Itappears,”saidLordAlloway,“thatjustwhenhehadfinishedarrangingthepapersonmydesk,hewasstartledbyhearingawomanscream.Hedashedoutintothehall.OnthestairshediscoveredMrs.Conrad’sFrenchmaid.Thegirllookedverywhiteandupset,anddeclaredthatshehadseenaghost—atallfiguredressedallinwhitethatmovedwithoutasound.Fitzroylaughedatherfearsandtoldher,inmoreorlesspolitelanguage,nottobeafool.Thenhereturnedtothisroomjustasweenteredfromthewindow.”
“Itallseemsveryclear,”saidPoirotthoughtfully.“Theonlyquestionis,wasthemaidanaccomplice?Didshescreambyarrangementwithherconfederatelurkingoutside,orwashemerelywaitingthereinthehopeofanopportunitypresentingitself?Itwasaman,Isuppose—notawomanyousaw?”
“Ican’ttellyou,M.Poirot.Itwasjusta—shadow.”
Theadmiralgavesuchapeculiarsnortthatitcouldnotfailtoattractattention.
“M.l’Amiralhassomethingtosay,Ithink,”saidPoirotquietly,withaslightsmile.“Yousawthisshadow,SirHarry?”
“No,Ididn’t,”returnedtheother.“AndneitherdidAlloway.Thebranchofatreeflapped,orsomething,andthenafterwards,whenwediscoveredthetheft,heleapedtotheconclusionthathehadseensomeonepassacrosstheterrace.Hisimaginationplayedatrickonhim;that’sall.”
“Iamnotusuallycreditedwithhavingmuchimagination,”saidLordAllowaywithaslightsmile.
“Nonsense,we’veallgotimagination.Wecanallworkourselvesuptobelievethatwe’veseenmorethanwehave.I’vehadalifetimeofexperienceatsea,andI’llbackmyeyesagainstthoseofanylandsman.Iwaslookingrightdowntheterrace,andI’dhaveseenthesameiftherewasanythingtosee.”
Hewasquiteexcitedoverthematter.Poirotroseandsteppedquicklytothewindow.
“Youpermit?”heasked.“Wemustsettlethispointifpossible.”
Hewentoutupontheterrace,andwefollowedhim.Hehadtakenanelectrictorchfromhispocket,andwasplayingthelightalongtheedgeofthegrassthatborderedtheterrace.
“Wheredidhecrosstheterrace,milor’?”heasked.
“Aboutoppositethewindow,Ishouldsay.”
Poirotcontinuedtoplaythetorchforsomeminuteslonger,walkingtheentirelengthoftheterraceandback.Thenheshutitoffandstraightenedhimselfup.
“SirHarryisright—andyouarewrong,milor’,”hesaidquietly.“Itrainedheavilyearlierthisevening.Anyonewhopassedoverthatgrasscouldnotavoidleavingfootmarks.Buttherearenone—noneatall.”
Hiseyeswentfromoneman’sfacetotheother’s.LordAllowaylookedbewilderedandunconvinced;theAdmiralexpressedanoisygratification.
“KnewIcouldn’tbewrong,”hedeclared.“Trustmyeyesanywhere.”
Hewassuchapictureofanhonestoldsea-dogthatIcouldnothelpsmiling.
“Sothatbringsustothepeopleinthehouse,”saidPoirotsmoothly.“Letuscomeinsideagain.Now,milor’,whileMr.Fitzroywasspeakingtothemaidonthestairs,couldanyonehaveseizedtheopportunitytoenterthestudyfromthehall?”
LordAllowayshookhishead.
“Quiteimpossible—theywouldhavehadtopasshiminordertodoso.”
“AndMr.Fitzroyhimself—youaresureofhim,eh?”
LordAllowayflushed.
“Absolutely,M.Poirot.Iwillanswerconfidentlyformysecretary.Itisquiteimpossiblethatheshouldbeconcernedinthematterinanyway.”
“Everythingseemstobeimpossible,”remarkedPoirotratherdrily.“Possiblytheplansattachedtothemselvesalittlepairofwings,andflewaway—comme?a!”Heblewhislipsoutlikeacomicalcherub.
“Thewholethingisimpossible,”declaredLordAllowayimpatiently.“ButIbeg,M.Poirot,thatyouwillnotdreamofsuspectingFitzroy.Considerforonemoment—hadhewishedtotaketheplans,whatcouldhavebeeneasierforhimthantotakeatracingofthemwithoutgoingtothetroubleofstealingthem?”
“There,milor’,”saidPoirotwithapproval,“youmakearemarkbienjuste—Iseethatyouhaveamindorderlyandmethodical.L’Angleterreishappyinpossessingyou.”
LordAllowaylookedratherembarrassedbythissuddenburstofpraise.Poirotreturnedtothematterinhand.
“Theroominwhichyouhadbeensittingalltheevening—”
“Thedrawingroom?Yes?”
“Thatalsohasawindowontheterrace,sinceIrememberyoursayingyouwentoutthatway.WoulditnotbepossibleforsomeonetocomeoutbythedrawingroomwindowandinbythisonewhileMr.Fitzroywasoutoftheroom,andreturnthesameway?”
“Butwe’dhaveseenthem,”objectedtheAdmiral.
“Notifyouhadyourbacksturned,walkingtheotherway.”
“Fitzroywasonlyoutoftheroomafewminutes,thetimeitwouldtakeustowalktotheendandback.”
“Nomatter—itisapossibility—infact,theonlyoneasthingsstand.”
“Buttherewasnooneinthedrawingroomwhenwewentout,”saidtheAdmiral.
“Theymayhavecomethereafterwards.”
“Youmean,”saidLordAllowayslowly,“thatwhenFitzroyheardthemaidscreamandwentout,someonewasalreadyconcealedinthedrawingroom,andthattheydartedinandoutthroughthewindows,andonlyleftthedrawingroomwhenFitzroyhadreturnedtothisroom?”
“Themethodicalmindagain,”saidPoirot,bowing.
“Youexpressthematterperfectly.”
“Oneoftheservants,perhaps?”
“Oraguest.ItwasMrs.Conrad’smaidwhoscreamed.WhatexactlycanyoutellmeofMrs.Conrad?”
LordAllowayconsideredforaminute.
“Itoldyouthatsheisaladywellknowninsociety.Thatistrueinthesensethatshegiveslargeparties,andgoeseverywhere.Butverylittleisknownastowhereshereallycomesfrom,andwhatherpastlifehasbeen.SheisaladywhofrequentsdiplomaticandForeignOfficecirclesasmuchaspossible.TheSecretServiceisinclinedtoask—why?”
“Isee,”saidPoirot.“Andshewasaskedherethisweekend—”
“Sothat—shallwesay?—wemightobserveheratclosequarters.”
“Parfaitement!Itispossiblethatshehasturnedthetablesonyouratherneatly.”
LordAllowaylookeddiscomfited,andPoirotcontinued:“Tellme,milor’,wasanyreferencemadeinherhearingtothesubjectsyouandtheAdmiralweregoingtodiscusstogether?”
“Yes,”admittedtheother.“SirHarrysaid:‘Andnowforoursubmarine!Towork!’orsomethingofthatsort.Theothershadlefttheroom,butshehadcomebackforabook.”
“Isee,”saidPoirotthoughtfully.“Milor’,itisverylate—butthisisanurgentaffair.Iwouldliketoquestionthemembersofthishousepartyatonceifitispossible.”
“Itcanbemanaged,ofcourse,”saidLordAlloway.“Theawkwardthingis,wedon’twanttoletitgetaboutmorethancanbehelped.Ofcourse,LadyJulietWeardaleandyoungLeonardareallright—butMrs.Conrad,ifsheisnotguilty,isratheradifferentproposition.Perhapsyoucouldjuststatethatanimportantpaperismissing,withoutspecifyingwhatitis,orgoingintoanyofthecircumstancesofthedisappearance?”
“ExactlywhatIwasabouttoproposemyself,”saidPoirot,beaming.“Infact,inallthreecases.MonsieurtheAdmiralwillpardonme,buteventhebestofwives—”
“Nooffence,”saidSirHarry.“Allwomentalk,bless’em!IwishJulietwouldtalkalittlemoreandplaybridgealittleless.Butwomenarelikethatnowadays,neverhappyunlessthey’redancingorgambling.I’llgetJulietandLeonardup,shallI,Alloway?”
“Thankyou.I’llcalltheFrenchmaid.M.Poirotwillwanttoseeher,andshecanrousehermistress.I’llattendtoitnow.Inthemeantime,I’llsendFitzroyalong.”
II
Mr.Fitzroywasapale,thinyoungmanwithpince-nezandafrigidexpression.HisstatementwaspracticallywordforwordwhatLordAllowayhadalreadytoldus.
“Whatisyourowntheory,Mr.Fitzroy?”
Mr.Fitzroyshruggedhisshoulders.
“Undoubtedlysomeonewhoknewthehangofthingswaswaitinghischanceoutside.Hecouldseewhatwentonthroughthewindow,andheslippedinwhenIlefttheroom.It’sapityLordAllowaydidn’tgivechasethenandtherewhenhesawthefellowleave.”
Poirotdidnotundeceivehim.Insteadheasked:“DoyoubelievethestoryoftheFrenchmaid—thatshehadseenaghost?”
“Well,hardly,M.Poirot!”
“Imean—thatshereallythoughtso?”
“Oh,astothat,Ican’tsay.Shecertainlyseemedratherupset.Shehadherhandstoherhead.”
“Aha!”criedPoirotwiththeairofonewhohasmadeadiscovery.“Isthatsoindeed—andshewaswithoutdoubtaprettygirl?”
“Ididn’tnoticeparticularly,”saidMr.Fitzroyinarepressivevoice.
“Youdidnotseehermistress,Isuppose?”
“Asamatteroffact,Idid.Shewasinthegalleryatthetopofthestepsandwascallingher—‘Léonie!’Thenshesawme—andofcourseretired.”
“Upstairs,”saidPoirot,frowning.
“Ofcourse,Irealizethatallthisisveryunpleasantforme—orratherwouldhavebeen,ifLordAllowayhadnotchancedtoseethemanactuallyleaving.Inanycase,Ishouldbegladifyouwouldmakeapointofsearchingmyroom—andmyself.”
“Youreallywishthat?”
“CertainlyIdo.”
WhatPoirotwouldhaverepliedIdonotknow,butatthatmomentLordAllowayreappearedandinformedusthatthetwoladiesandMr.LeonardWeardalewereinthedrawingroom.
Thewomenwereinbecomingnegligees.Mrs.Conradwasabeautifulwomanofthirty-five,withgoldenhairandaslighttendencytoembonpoint.LadyJulietWeardalemusthavebeenforty,tallanddark,verythin,stillbeautiful,withexquisitehandsandfeet,andarestless,haggardmanner.Hersonwasratheraneffeminate-lookingyoungman,asgreatacontrasttohisbluff,heartyfatherascouldwellbeimagined.
Poirotgaveforththelittlerigmarolewehadagreedupon,andthenexplainedthathewasanxioustoknowifanyonehadheardorseenanythingthatnightwhichmightassistus.
TurningtoMrs.Conradfirst,heaskedherifshewouldbesokindastoinformhimexactlywhathermovementshadbeen.
“Letmesee…Iwentupstairs.Irangformymaid.Then,asshedidnotputinanappearance,Icameoutandcalledher.Icouldhearhertalkingonthestairs.Aftershehadbrushedmyhair,Isentheraway—shewasinaverycuriousnervousstate.Ireadawhileandthenwenttobed.”
“Andyou,LadyJuliet?”
“Iwentstraightupstairsandtobed.Iwasverytired.”
“Whataboutyourbook,dear?”askedMrs.Conradwithasweetsmile.
“Mybook?”LadyJulietflushed.
“Yes,youknow,whenIsentLéonieaway,youwerecomingupthestairs.Youhadbeendowntothedrawingroomforabook,yousaid.”
“Ohyes,Ididgodown.I—Iforgot.”
LadyJulietclaspedherhandsnervouslytogether.
“DidyouhearMrs.Conrad’smaidscream,milady?”
“No—no,Ididn’t.”
“Howcurious—becauseyoumusthavebeeninthedrawingroomatthetime.”
“Iheardnothing,”saidLadyJulietinafirmervoice.
PoirotturnedtoyoungLeonard.
“Monsieur?”
“Nothingdoing.Iwentstraightupstairsandturnedin.”
Poirotstrokedhischin.
“Alas,Ifearthereisnothingtohelpmehere.Mesdamesandmonsieur,Iregret—Iregretinfinitelytohavederangedyoufromyourslumbersforsolittle.Acceptmyapologies,Iprayofyou.”
Gesticulatingandapologizing,hemarshalledthemout.HereturnedwiththeFrenchmaid,apretty,impudent-lookinggirl.AllowayandWeardalehadgoneoutwiththeladies.
“Now,mademoiselle,”saidPoirotinabrisktone,“letushavethetruth.Recounttomenohistories.Whydidyouscreamonthestairs?”
“Ah,monsieur,Isawatallfigure—allinwhite—”
Poirotarrestedherwithanenergeticshakeofhisforefinger.
“DidInotsay,recounttomenohistories?Iwillmakeaguess.Hekissedyou,didhenot?M.LeonardWeardale,Imean?”
“Ehbien,monsieur,andafterall,whatisakiss?”
“Underthecircumstances,itismostnatural,”repliedPoirotgallantly.“Imyself,orHastingshere—buttellmejustwhatoccurred.”
“Hecameupbehindme,andcaughtme.Iwasstartled,andIscreamed.IfIhadknown,Iwouldnothavescreamed—buthecameuponmelikeacat.ThencameM.lesecrétaire.M.Leonardflewupthestairs.AndwhatcouldIsay?Especiallytoajeunehommecomme?a—tellementcommeilfaut?Mafoi,Iinventaghost.”
“Andallisexplained,”criedPoirotgenially.“YouthenmountedtothechamberofMadameyourmistress.Whichisherroom,bytheway?”
“Itisattheend,monsieur.Thatway.”
“Directlyoverthestudy,then.Bien,mademoiselle,Iwilldetainyounolonger.Andlaprochainefois,donotscream.”
Handingherout,hecamebacktomewithasmile.
“Aninterestingcase,isitnot,Hastings?IbegintohaveafewlittleideasEtvous?”
“WhatwasLeonardWeardaledoingonthestairs?Idon’tlikethatyoungman,Poirot.He’sathoroughyoungrake,Ishouldsay.”
“Iagreewithyou,monami.”
“Fitzroyseemsanhonestfellow.”
“LordAllowayiscertainlyinsistentonthatpoint.”
“Andyetthereissomethinginhismanner—”
“Thatisalmosttoogoodtobetrue?Ifeltitmyself.Ontheotherhand,ourfriendMrs.Conradiscertainlynogoodatall.”
“Andherroomisoverthestudy,”Isaidmusingly,andkeepingasharpeyeonPoirot.
Heshookhisheadwithaslightsmile.
“No,monami,Icannotbringmyselfseriouslytobelievethatthatimmaculateladyswarmeddownthechimney,orletherselfdownfromthebalcony.”
Ashespoke,thedooropened,andtomygreatsurprise,LadyJulietWeardaleflittedin.
“M.Poirot,”shesaidsomewhatbreathlessly,“canIspeaktoyoualone?”
“Milady,CaptainHastingsisasmyotherself.Youcanspeakbeforehimasthoughhewereathingofnoaccount,notthereatall.Beseated,Iprayyou.”
Shesatdown,stillkeepinghereyesfixedonPoirot.
“WhatIhavetosayis—ratherdifficult.Youareinchargeofthiscase.Ifthe—papersweretobereturned,wouldthatendthematter?Imean,coulditbedonewithoutquestionsbeingasked?”
Poirotstaredhardather.
“Letmeunderstandyou,madame.Theyaretobeplacedinmyhand—isthatright?AndIamtoreturnthemtoLordAllowayontheconditionthatheasksnoquestionsastowhereIgotthem?”
Shebowedherhead.“ThatiswhatImean.ButImustbesuretherewillbeno—publicity.”
“IdonotthinkLordAllowayisparticularlyanxiousforpublicity,”saidPoirotgrimly.
“Youacceptthen?”shecriedeagerlyinresponse.
“Alittlemoment,milady.Itdependsonhowsoonyoucanplacethosepapersinmyhands.”
“Almostimmediately.”
Poirotglancedupattheclock.
“Howsoon,exactly?”
“Say—tenminutes,”shewhispered.
“Iaccept,milady.”
Shehurriedfromtheroom.Ipursedmymouthupforawhistle.
“Canyousumupthesituationforme,Hastings?”
“Bridge,”Irepliedsuccinctly.
“Ah,yourememberthecarelesswordsofMonsieurtheAdmiral!Whatamemory!Ifelicitateyou,Hastings.”
Wesaidnomore,forLordAllowaycamein,andlookedinquiringlyatPoirot.
“Haveyouanyfurtherideas,M.Poirot?Iamafraidtheanswerstoyourquestionshavebeenratherdisappointing.”
“Notatall,milor’.Theyhavebeenquitesufficientlyilluminating.Itwillbeunnecessaryformetostayhereanylonger,andso,withyourpermission,IwillreturnatoncetoLondon.”
LordAllowayseemeddumbfounded.
“But—butwhathaveyoudiscovered?Doyouknowwhotooktheplans?”
“Yes,milor’,Ido.Tellme—inthecaseofthepapersbeingreturnedtoyouanonymously,youwouldprosecutenofurtherinquiry?”
LordAllowaystaredathim.
“Doyoumeanonpaymentofasumofmoney?”
“No,milor’,returnedunconditionally.”
“Ofcourse,therecoveryoftheplansisthegreatthing,”saidLordAllowayslowly.Helookedpuzzledanduncomprehending.
“ThenIshouldseriouslyrecommendyoutoadoptthatcourse.Onlyyou,theAdmiral,andyoursecretaryknowoftheloss.Onlytheyneedknowoftherestitution.Andyoumaycountonmetosupportyouineveryway—laythemysteryonmyshoulders.Youaskedmetorestorethepapers—Ihavedoneso.Youknownomore.”Heroseandheldouthishand.“Milor’,Iamgladtohavemetyou.Ihavefaithinyou—andyourdevotiontoEngland.Youwillguideherdestinieswithastrong,surehand.”
“M.Poirot—IsweartoyouthatIwilldomybest.Itmaybeafault,oritmaybeavirtue—butIbelieveinmyself.”
“Sodoeseverygreatman.Me,Iamthesame!”saidPoirotgrandiloquently.
III
Thecarcameroundtothedoorinafewminutes,andLordAllowaybadeusfarewellonthestepswithrenewedcordiality.
“Thatisagreatman,Hastings,”saidPoirotaswedroveoff.“Hehasbrains,resource,power.HeisthestrongmanthatEnglandneedstoguideherthroughthesedifficultdaysofreconstruction.”
“I’mquitereadytoagreewithallyousay,Poirot—butwhataboutLadyJuliet?IsshetoreturnthepapersstraighttoAlloway?Whatwillshethinkwhenshefindsyouhavegoneoffwithoutaword?”
“Hastings,Iwillaskyoualittlequestion.Why,whenshewastalkingwithme,didshenothandmetheplansthenandthere?”
“Shehadn’tgotthemwithher.”
“Perfectly.Howlongwouldittakehertofetchthemfromherroom?Orfromanyhidingplaceinthehouse?Youneednotanswer.Iwilltellyou.Probablyabouttwominutesandahalf!Yetsheasksfortenminutes.Why?Clearlyshehastoobtainthemfromsomeotherperson,andtoreasonorarguewiththatpersonbeforetheygivethemup.Now,whatpersoncouldthatbe?NotMrs.Conrad,clearly,butamemberofherownfamily,herhusbandorson.Whichisitlikelytobe?LeonardWeardalesaidhewentstraighttobed.Weknowthattobeuntrue.Supposinghismotherwenttohisroomandfounditempty;supposingshecamedownfilledwithanamelessdread—heisnobeautythatsonofhers!Shedoesnotfindhim,butlatershehearshimdenythatheeverlefthisroom.Sheleapstotheconclusionthatheisthethief.Henceherinterviewwithme.
“But,monami,weknowsomethingthatLadyJulietdoesnot.Weknowthathersoncouldnothavebeeninthestudy,becausehewasonthestairs,makinglovetotheprettyFrenchmaid.Althoughshedoesnotknowit,LeonardWeardalehasanalibi.”
“Well,then,whodidstealthepapers?Weseemtohaveeliminatedeverybody—LadyJuliet,herson,Mrs.Conrad,theFrenchmaid—”
“Exactly.Useyourlittlegreycells,myfriend.Thesolutionstaresyouintheface.”
Ishookmyheadblankly.
“Butyes!Ifyouwouldonlypersevere!See,then,Fitzroygoesoutofthestudy;heleavesthepapersonthedesk.AfewminuteslaterLordAllowayenterstheroom,goestothedesk,andthepapersaregone.Onlytwothingsarepossible:eitherFitzroydidnotleavethepapersonthedesk,butputtheminhispocket—andthatisnotreasonable,because,asAllowaypointedout,hecouldhavetakenatracingathisownconvenienceanytime—orelsethepaperswerestillonthedeskwhenLordAllowaywenttoit—inwhichcasetheywentintohispocket.”
“LordAllowaythethief,”Isaid,dumbfounded.“Butwhy?Why?”
“Didyounottellmeofsomescandalinthepast?Hewasexonerated,yousaid.Butsuppose,afterall,ithadbeentrue?InEnglishpubliclifetheremustbenoscandal.Ifthiswererakedupandprovedagainsthimnow—good-byetohispoliticalcareer.Wewillsupposethathewasbeingblackmailed,andthepriceaskedwasthesubmarineplans.”
“Buttheman’sablacktraitor!”Icried.
“Ohno,heisnot.Heiscleverandresourceful.Supposing,myfriend,thathecopiedthoseplans,making—forheisacleverengineer—aslightalterationineachpartwhichwillrenderthemquiteimpractible.Hehandsthefakedplanstotheenemy’sagent—Mrs.Conrad,Ifancy;butinorderthatnosuspicionoftheirgenuinenessmayarise,theplansmustseemtobestolen.Hedoeshisbesttothrownosuspiciononanyoneinthehouse,bypretendingtoseeamanleavingthewindow.ButthereheranupagainsttheobstinacyoftheAdmiral.SohisnextanxietyisthatnosuspicionshallfallonFitzroy.”
“Thisisallguessworkonyourpart,Poirot,”Iobjected.
“Itispsychology,monami.Amanwhohadhandedovertherealplanswouldnotbeoverscrupulousastowhowaslikelytofallundersuspicion.AndwhywashesoanxiousthatnodetailsoftherobberyshouldbegiventoMrs.Conrad?Becausehehadhandedoverthefakedplansearlierintheevening,anddidnotwanthertoknowthatthetheftcouldonlyhavetakenplacelater.”
“Iwonderifyouareright,”Isaid.
“OfcourseIamright.IspoketoAllowayasonegreatmantoanother—andheunderstoodperfectly.Youwillsee.”
IV
Onethingisquitecertain.OnthedaywhenLordAllowaybecamePrimeMinister,achequeandasignedphotographarrived;onthephotographwerethewords:“Tomydiscreetfriend,HerculePoirot—fromAlloway.”
IbelievethattheZtypeofsubmarineiscausinggreatexultationinnavalcircles.Theysayitwillrevolutionizemodernnavalwarfare.Ihaveheardthatacertainforeignpoweressayedtoconstructsomethingofthesamekindandtheresultwasadismalfailure.ButIstillconsiderthatPoirotwasguessing.Hewilldoitoncetoooftenoneofthesedays.
Nine
THEADVENTUREOFTHECLAPHAMCOOK
I
AtthetimethatIwassharingroomswithmyfriendHerculePoirot,itwasmycustomtoreadaloudtohimtheheadlinesinthemorningnewspaper,theDailyBlare.
TheDailyBlarewasapaperthatmadethemostofanyopportunityforsensationalism.Robberiesandmurdersdidnotlurkobscurelyinitsbackpages.Insteadtheyhityouintheeyeinlargetypeonthefrontpage.
ABSCONDINGBANKCLERKDISAPPEARSWITHFIFTYTHOUSANDPOUNDS’WORTHOFNEGOTIABLESECURITIES,Iread.HUSBANDPUTSHISHEADINGAS-OVEN.UNHAPPYHOMELIFE.MISSINGTYPIST.PRETTYGIRLOFTWENTY-ONE.WHEREISEDNAFIELD?
“Thereyouare,Poirot,plentytochoosefrom.Anabscondingbankclerk,amysterioussuicide,amissingtypist—whichwillyouhave?”
Myfriendwasinaplacidmood.Hequietlyshookhishead.
“Iamnotgreatlyattractedtoanyofthem,monami.TodayIfeelinclinedforthelifeofease.Itwouldhavetobeaveryinterestingproblemtotemptmefrommychair.Seeyou,Ihaveaffairsofimportanceofmyowntoattendto.”
“Suchas?”
“Mywardrobe,Hastings.IfImistakenot,thereisonmynewgreysuitthespotofgrease—onlytheuniquespot,butitissufficienttotroubleme.Thenthereismywinterovercoat—ImustlayhimasideinthepowderofKeatings.AndIthink—yes,Ithink—themomentisripeforthetrimmingsofmymoustaches—andafterwardsImustapplythepomade.”
“Well,”Isaid,strollingtothewindow,“Idoubtifyou’llbeabletocarryoutthisdeliriousprogramme.Thatwasaringatthebell.Youhaveaclient.”
“Unlesstheaffairisoneofnationalimportance,Itouchitnot,”declaredPoirotwithdignity.
Amomentlaterourprivacywasinvadedbyastoutred-facedladywhopantedaudiblyasaresultofherrapidascentofthestairs.
“You’reM.Poirot?”shedemanded,asshesankintoachair.
“IamHerculePoirot,yes,madame.”
“You’renotabitlikewhatIthoughtyou’dbe,”saidthelady,eyeinghimwithsomedisfavour.“Didyoupayforthebitinthepapersayingwhatacleverdetectiveyouwere,ordidtheyputitinthemselves?”
“Madame!”saidPoirot,drawinghimselfup.
“I’msorry,I’msure,butyouknowwhatthesepapersarenowadays.Youbeginreadinganicearticle:‘Whatabridesaidtoherplainunmarriedfriend,’andit’sallaboutasimplethingyoubuyatthechemist’sandshampooyourhairwith.Nothingbutpuff.Butnooffencetaken,Ihope?I’lltellyouwhatIwantyoutodoforme.Iwantyoutofindmycook.”
Poirotstaredather;foroncehisreadytonguefailedhim.IturnedasidetohidethebroadeningsmileIcouldnotcontrol.
“It’sallthiswickeddole,”continuedthelady.“Puttingideasintoservants’heads,wantingtobetypistsandwhatnots.Stopthedole,that’swhatIsay.I’dliketoknowwhatmyservantshavetocomplainof—afternoonandeveningoffaweek,alternateSundays,washingputout,samefoodaswehave—andneverabitofmargarineinthehouse,nothingbuttheverybestbutter.”
ShepausedforwantofbreathandPoirotseizedhisopportunity.Hespokeinhishaughtiestmanner,risingtohisfeetashedidso.
“Ifearyouaremakingamistake,madame.Iamnotholdinganinquiryintotheconditionsofdomesticservice.Iamaprivatedetective.”
“Iknowthat,”saidourvisitor.“Didn’tItellyouIwantedyoutofindmycookforme?WalkedoutofthehouseonWednesday,withoutsomuchasawordtome,andnevercameback.”
“Iamsorry,madame,butIdonottouchthisparticularkindofbusiness.Iwishyougoodmorning.”
Ourvisitorsnortedwithindignation.
“That’sit,isit,myfinefellow?Tooproud,eh?OnlydealwithGovernmentsecretsandcountesses’jewels?Letmetellyouaservant’severybitasimportantasatiaratoawomaninmyposition.Wecan’tallbefineladiesgoingoutinourmotorswithourdiamondsandourpearls.Agoodcook’sagoodcook—andwhenyouloseher,it’sasmuchtoyouasherpearlsaretosomefinelady.”
ForamomentortwoitappearedtobeatossupbetweenPoirot’sdignityandhissenseofhumour.Finallyhelaughedandsatdownagain.
“Madame,youareintheright,andIaminthewrong.Yourremarksarejustandintelligent.Thiscasewillbeanovelty.NeveryethaveIhuntedamissingdomestic.TrulyhereistheproblemofnationalimportancethatIwasdemandingoffatejustbeforeyourarrival.Enavant!YousaythisjewelofacookwentoutonWednesdayanddidnotreturn.Thatisthedaybeforeyesterday.”
“Yes,itwasherdayout.”
“Butprobably,madame,shehasmetwithsomeaccident.Haveyouinquiredatanyofthehospitals?”
“That’sexactlywhatIthoughtyesterday,butthismorning,ifyouplease,shesentforherbox.Andnotsomuchasalinetome!IfI’dbeenathome,I’dnothaveletitgo—treatingmelikethat!ButI’djuststeppedouttothebutcher.”
“Willyoudescribehertome?”
“Shewasmiddle-aged,stout,blackhairturninggrey—mostrespectable.She’dbeentenyearsinherlastplace.ElizaDunn,hernamewas.”
“Andyouhadhad—nodisagreementwithherontheWednesday?”
“Nonewhatsoever.That’swhatmakesitallsoqueer.”
“Howmanyservantsdoyoukeep,madame?”
“Two.Thehouse-parlourmaid,Annie,isaverynicegirl.Abitforgetfulandherheadfullofyoungmen,butagoodservantifyoukeepheruptoherwork.”
“Didsheandthecookgetonwelltogether?”
“Theyhadtheirupsanddowns,ofcourse—butonthewhole,verywell.”
“Andthegirlcanthrownolightonthemystery?”
“Shesaysnot—butyouknowwhatservantsare—theyallhangtogether.”
“Well,well,wemustlookintothis.Wheredidyousayyouresided,madame?”
“AtClapham;88PrinceAlbertRoad.”
“Bien,madame,Iwillwishyougoodmorning,andyoumaycountuponseeingmeatyourresidenceduringthecourseoftheday.”
Mrs.Todd,forsuchwasournewfriend’sname,thentookherdeparture.Poirotlookedatmesomewhatruefully.
“Well,well,Hastings,thisisanovelaffairthatwehavehere.TheDisappearanceoftheClaphamCook!Never,never,mustourfriendInspectorJappgettohearofthis!”
Hethenproceededtoheatanironandcarefullyremovedthegreasespotfromhisgreysuitbymeansofapieceofblottingpaper.Hismoustachesheregretfullypostponedtoanotherday,andwesetoutforClapham.
PrinceAlbertRoadprovedtobeastreetofsmallprimhouses,allexactlyalike,withneatlacecurtainsveilingthewindows,andwell-polishedbrassknockersonthedoors.
WerangthebellatNo.88,andthedoorwasopenedbyaneatmaidwithaprettyface.Mrs.Toddcameoutinthehalltogreetus.
“Don’tgo,Annie,”shecried.“Thisgentleman’sadetectiveandhe’llwanttoaskyousomequestions.”
Annie’sfacedisplayedastrugglebetweenalarmandapleasurableexcitement.
“Ithankyou,madame,”saidPoirotbowing.“Iwouldliketoquestionyourmaidnow—andtoseeheralone,ifImay.”
Wewereshownintoasmalldrawingroom,andwhenMrs.Todd,withobviousreluctance,hadlefttheroom,Poirotcommencedhiscross-examination.
“Voyons,MademoiselleAnnie,allthatyoushalltelluswillbeofthegreatestimportance.Youalonecanshedanylightonthecase.WithoutyourassistanceIcandonothing.”
Thealarmvanishedfromthegirl’sfaceandthepleasurableexcitementbecamemorestronglymarked.
“I’msure,sir,”shesaid,“I’lltellyouanythingIcan.”
“Thatisgood.”Poirotbeamedapprovalonher.“Now,firstofallwhatisyourownidea?Youareagirlofremarkableintelligence.Thatcanbeseenatonce!WhatisyourownexplanationofEliza’sdisappearance?”
Thusencouraged,Anniefairlyflowedintoexcitedspeech.
“Whiteslavers,sir,I’vesaidsoallalong!Cookwasalwayswarningmeagainstthem.‘Don’tyousniffnoscent,oreatanysweets—nomatterhowgentlemanlythefellow!’Thosewereherwordstome.Andnowthey’vegother!I’msureofit.Aslikelyasnot,she’sbeenshippedtoTurkeyoroneofthemEasternplaceswhereI’veheardtheylikethemfat!”
Poirotpreservedanadmirablegravity.
“Butinthatcase—anditisindeedanidea!—wouldshehavesentforhertrunk?”
“Well,Idon’tknow,sir.She’dwantherthings—eveninthoseforeignplaces.”
“Whocameforthetrunk—aman?”
“ItwasCarterPaterson,sir.”
“Didyoupackit?”
“No,sir,itwasalreadypackedandcorded.”
“Ah!That’sinteresting.ThatshowsthatwhensheleftthehouseonWednesday,shehadalreadydeterminednottoreturn.Youseethat,doyounot?”
“Yes,sir.”Annielookedslightlytakenaback.“Ihadn’tthoughtofthat.Butitmightstillhavebeenwhiteslavers,mightn’tit,sir?”sheaddedwistfully.
“Undoubtedly!”saidPoirotgravely.Hewenton:“Didyoubothoccupythesamebedroom?”
“No,sir,wehadseparaterooms.”
“AndhadElizaexpressedanydissatisfactionwithherpresentposttoyouatall?Wereyoubothhappyhere?”
“She’dnevermentionedleaving.Theplaceisallright—”Thegirlhesitated.
“Speakfreely,”saidPoirotkindly.“Ishallnottellyourmistress.”
“Well,ofcourse,sir,she’sacaution,Missusis.Butthefood’sgood.Plentyofit,andnostinting.Somethinghotforsupper,goodoutings,andasmuchfrying-fatasyoulike.Andanyway,ifElizadidwanttomakeachange,she’dneverhavegoneoffthisway,I’msure.She’dhavestayedhermonth.Why,Missuscouldhaveamonth’swagesoutofherfordoingthis!”
“Andthework,itisnottoohard?”
“Well,she’sparticular—alwayspokingroundincornersandlookingfordust.Andthenthere’sthelodger,orpayingguestashe’salwayscalled.Butthat’sonlybreakfastanddinner,sameasMaster.They’reoutalldayintheCity.”
“Youlikeyourmaster?”
“He’sallright—veryquietandabitonthestingyside.”
“Youcan’tremember,Isuppose,thelastthingElizasaidbeforeshewentout?”
“Yes,Ican.‘Ifthere’sanystewedpeachesoverfromthediningroom,’shesays,‘we’llhavethemforsupper,andabitofbaconandsomefriedpotatoes.’Madoverstewedpeaches,shewas.Ishouldn’twonderiftheydidn’tgetherthatway.”
“WasWednesdayherregulardayout?”
“Yes,shehadWednesdaysandIhadThursdays.”
Poirotaskedafewmorequestions,thendeclaredhimselfsatisfied.Anniedeparted,andMrs.Toddhurriedin,herfacealightwithcuriosity.Shehad,Ifeltcertain,bitterlyresentedherexclusionfromtheroomduringourconversationwithAnnie.Poirot,however,wascarefultosootheherfeelingstactfully.
“Itisdifficult,”heexplained,“forawomanofexceptionalintelligencesuchasyourself,madame,tobearpatientlytheroundaboutmethodswepoordetectivesareforcedtouse.Tohavepatiencewithstupidityisdifficultforthequick-witted.”
HavingthuscharmedawayanylittleresentmentonMrs.Todd’spart,hebroughttheconversationroundtoherhusbandandelicitedtheinformationthatheworkedwithafirmintheCityandwouldnotbehomeuntilaftersix.
“Doubtlessheisverydisturbedandworriedbythisunaccountablebusiness,eh?Itisnotso?”
“He’sneverworried,”declaredMrs.Todd.“‘Well,well,getanother,mydear.’That’sallhesaid!He’ssocalmthatitdrivesmetodistractionsometimes.‘Anungratefulwoman,’hesaid.‘Wearewellridofher.’”
“Whatabouttheotherinmatesofthehouse,madame?”
“YoumeanMr.Simpson,ourpayingguest?Well,aslongashegetshisbreakfastandhiseveningmealallright,hedoesn’tworry.”
“Whatishisprofession,madame?”
“Heworksinabank.”Shementioneditsname,andIstartedslightly,rememberingmyperusaloftheDailyBlare.
“Ayoungman?”
“Twenty-eight,Ibelieve.Nicequietyoungfellow.”
“Ishouldliketohaveafewwordswithhim,andalsowithyourhusband,ifImay.Iwillreturnforthatpurposethisevening.Iventuretosuggestthatyoushouldreposeyourselfalittle,madame,youlookfatigued.”
“IshouldjustthinkIam!FirsttheworryaboutEliza,andthenIwasatthesalespracticallyallyesterday,andyouknowwhatthatis,M.Poirot,andwhatwithonethingandanotherandalottodointhehouse,becauseofcourseAnniecan’tdoitall—andverylikelyshe’llgivenoticeanyway,beingunsettledinthisway—well,whatwithitall,I’mtiredout!”
Poirotmurmuredsympathetically,andwetookourleave.
“It’sacuriouscoincidence,”Isaid,“butthatabscondingclerk,Davis,wasfromthesamebankasSimpson.Cantherebeanyconnection,doyouthink?”
Poirotsmiled.
“Attheoneend,adefaultingclerk,attheotheravanishingcook.Itishardtoseeanyrelationbetweenthetwo,unlesspossiblyDavisvisitedSimpson,fellinlovewiththecook,andpersuadedhertoaccompanyhimonhisflight!”
Ilaughed.ButPoirotremainedgrave.
“Hemighthavedoneworse,”hesaidreprovingly.“Remember,Hastings,ifyouaregoingintoexile,agoodcookmaybeofmorecomfortthanaprettyface!”Hepausedforamomentandthenwenton.“Itisacuriouscase,fullofcontradictoryfeatures.Iaminterested—yes,Iamdistinctlyinterested.”
II
Thateveningwereturnedto88PrinceAlbertRoadandinterviewedbothToddandSimpson.Theformerwasamelancholylantern-jawedmanofforty-odd.
“Oh!Yes,yes,”hesaidvaguely.“Eliza.Yes.Agoodcook,Ibelieve.Andeconomical.Imakeastrongpointofeconomy.”
“Canyouimagineanyreasonforherleavingyousosuddenly?”
“Oh,well,”saidMr.Toddvaguely.“Servants,youknow.Mywifeworriestoomuch.Wornoutfromalwaysworrying.Thewholeproblem’squitesimplereally.‘Getanother,mydear,’Isay.‘Getanother.’That’sallthereistoit.Nogoodcryingoverspiltmilk.”
Mr.Simpsonwasequallyunhelpful.Hewasaquietinconspicuousyoungmanwithspectacles.
“Imusthaveseenher,Isuppose,”hesaid.“Elderlywoman,wasn’tshe?Ofcourse,it’stheotheroneIseealways,Annie.Nicegirl.Veryobliging.”
“Werethosetwoongoodtermswitheachother?”
Mr.Simpsonsaidhecouldn’tsay,hewassure.Hesupposedso.
“Well,wegetnothingofinterestthere,monami,”saidPoirotasweleftthehouse.OurdeparturehadbeendelayedbyaburstofvociferousrepetitionfromMrs.Todd,whorepeatedeverythingshehadsaidthatmorningatrathergreaterlength.
“Areyoudisappointed?”Iasked.“Didyouexpecttohearsomething?”
Poirotshookhishead.
“Therewasapossibility,ofcourse,”hesaid.“ButIhardlythoughtitlikely.”
ThenextdevelopmentwasaletterwhichPoirotreceivedonthefollowingmorning.Hereadit,turnedpurplewithindignation,andhandedittome.
Mrs.ToddregretsthatafterallshewillnotavailherselfofMr.Poirot’sservices.Aftertalkingthematteroverwithherhusbandsheseesthatitisfoolishtocallinadetectiveaboutapurelydomesticaffair.Mrs.Toddenclosesaguineaforconsultationfee.
III
“Aha!”criedPoirotangrily.“AndtheythinktogetridofHerculePoirotlikethat!Asafavour—agreatfavour—Iconsenttoinvestigatetheirmiserablelittletwopenny-halfpennyaffair—andtheydismissmecomme?a!Here,Imistakenot,isthehandofMr.Todd.ButIsayno!—thirty-sixtimesno!Iwillspendmyownguineas,thirty-sixhundredofthemifneedbe,butIwillgettothebottomofthismatter!”
“Yes,”Isaid.“Buthow?”
Poirotcalmeddownalittle.
“D’abord,”hesaid,“wewilladvertiseinthepapers.Letmesee—yes—somethinglikethis:‘IfElizaDunnwillcommunicatewiththisaddress,shewillhearofsomethingtoheradvantage.’Putitinallthepapersyoucanthinkof,Hastings.ThenIwillmakesomelittleinquiriesofmyown.Go,go—allmustbedoneasquicklyaspossible!”
Ididnotseehimagainuntiltheevening,whenhecondescendedtotellmewhathehadbeendoing.
“IhavemadeinquiriesatthefirmofMr.Todd.HewasnotabsentonWednesday,andhebearsagoodcharacter—somuchforhim.ThenSimpson,onThursdayhewasillanddidnotcometothebank,buthewasthereonWednesday.HewasmoderatelyfriendlywithDavis.Nothingoutofthecommon.Theredoesnotseemtobeanythingthere.No.Wemustplaceourrelianceontheadvertisement.”
Theadvertisementdulyappearedinalltheprincipaldailypapers.ByPoirot’sordersitwastobecontinuedeverydayforaweek.Hiseagernessoverthisuninterestingmatterofadefaultingcookwasextraordinary,butIrealizedthatheconsidereditapointofhonourtopersevereuntilhefinallysucceeded.Severalextremelyinterestingcaseswerebroughttohimaboutthistime,buthedeclinedthemall.Everymorninghewouldrushathisletters,scrutinizethemearnestlyandthenlaythemdownwithasigh.
Butourpatiencewasrewardedatlast.OntheWednesdayfollowingMrs.Todd’svisit,ourlandladyinformedusthatapersonofthenameofElizaDunnhadcalled.
“Enfin!”criedPoirot.“Butmakehermountthen!Atonce.Immediately.”
Thusadmonished,ourlandladyhurriedoutandreturnedamomentortwolater,usheringinMissDunn.Ourquarrywasmuchasdescribed:tall,stout,andeminentlyrespectable.
“Icameinanswertotheadvertisement,”sheexplained.“Ithoughttheremustbesomemuddleorother,andthatperhapsyoudidn’tknowI’dalreadygotmylegacy.”
Poirotwasstudyingherattentively.Hedrewforwardachairwithaflourish.
“Thetruthofthematteris,”heexplained,“thatyourlatemistress,Mrs.Todd,wasmuchconcernedaboutyou.Shefearedsomeaccidentmighthavebefallenyou.”
ElizaDunnseemedverymuchsurprised.
“Didn’tshegetmyletterthen?”
“Shegotnowordofanykind.”Hepaused,andthensaidpersuasively:“Recounttomethewholestory,willyounot?”
ElizaDunnneedednoencouragement.Sheplungedatonceintoalengthynarrative.
“IwasjustcominghomeonWednesdaynightandhadnearlygottothehouse,whenagentlemanstoppedme.Atallgentlemanhewas,withabeardandabighat.‘MissElizaDunn?’hesaid.‘Yes,’Isaid.‘I’vebeeninquiringforyouatNo.88,’hesaid.‘TheytoldmeImightmeetyoucomingalonghere.MissDunn,IhavecomefromAustraliaspeciallytofindyou.Doyouhappentoknowthemaidennameofyourmaternalgrandmother?’‘JaneEmmott,’Isaid.‘Exactly,’hesaid.‘Now,MissDunn,althoughyoumayneverhaveheardofthefact,yourgrandmotherhadagreatfriend,ElizaLeech.ThisfriendwenttoAustraliawhereshemarriedaverywealthysettler.Hertwochildrendiedininfancy,andsheinheritedallherhusband’sproperty.Shediedafewmonthsago,andbyherwillyouinheritahouseinthiscountryandaconsiderablesumofmoney.’
“Youcouldhaveknockedmedownwithafeather,”continuedMissDunn.“Foraminute,Iwassuspicious,andhemusthaveseenit,forhesmiled.‘Quiterighttobeonyourguard,MissDunn,’hesaid.‘Herearemycredentials.’HehandedmealetterfromsomelawyersinMelbourne,HurstandCrotchet,andacard.HewasMr.Crotchet.‘Thereareoneortwoconditions,’hesaid.‘Ourclientwasalittleeccentric,youknow.Thebequestisconditionalonyourtakingpossessionofthehouse(itisinCumberland)beforetwelveo’clocktomorrow.Theotherconditionisofnoimportance—itismerelyastipulationthatyoushouldnotbeindomesticservice.’Myfacefell.‘Oh,Mr.Crotchet,’Isaid.‘I’macook.Didn’ttheytellyouatthehouse?’‘Dear,dear,’hesaid.‘Ihadnoideaofsuchathing.Ithoughtyoumightpossiblybeacompanionorgovernessthere.Thisisveryunfortunate—veryunfortunateindeed.’
“‘ShallIhavetoloseallthemoney?’Isaid,anxiouslike.Hethoughtforaminuteortwo.‘Therearealwayswaysofgettingroundthelaw,MissDunn,’hesaidatlast.‘Weaslawyersknowthat.Thewayouthereisforyoutohaveleftyouremploymentthisafternoon.’‘Butmymonth?’Isaid.‘MydearMissDunn,’hesaidwithasmile.‘Youcanleaveanemployeranyminutebyforfeitingamonth’swages.Yourmistresswillunderstandinviewofthecircumstances.Thedifficultyistime!Itisimperativethatyoushouldcatchthe11.05fromKing’sCrosstothenorth.Icanadvanceyoutenpoundsorsoforthefare,andyoucanwriteanoteatthestationtoyouremployer.Iwilltakeittohermyselfandexplainthewholecircumstances.’Iagreed,ofcourse,andanhourlaterIwasinthetrain,soflusteredthatIdidn’tknowwhetherIwasonmyheadorheels.IndeedbythetimeIgottoCarlisle,Iwashalfinclinedtothinkthewholethingwasoneofthoseconfidencetricksyoureadabout.ButIwenttotheaddresshehadgivenme—solicitorstheywere,anditwasallright.Anicelittlehouse,andanincomeofthreehundredayear.Theselawyersknewverylittle,they’djustgotaletterfromagentlemaninLondoninstructingthemtohandoverthehousetomeand￡150forthefirstsixmonths.Mr.Crotchetsentupmythingstome,buttherewasnowordfromMissus.Isupposedshewasangryandgrudgedmemybitofluck.Shekeptbackmyboxtoo,andsentmyclothesinpaperparcels.Butthere,ofcourseifsheneverhadmyletter,shemightthinkitabitcoolofme.”
Poirothadlistenedattentivelytothislonghistory.Nowhenoddedhisheadasthoughcompletelysatisfied.
“Thankyou,mademoiselle.Therehadbeen,asyousay,alittlemuddle.Permitmetorecompenseyouforyourtrouble.”Hehandedheranenvelope.“YoureturntoCumberlandimmediately?Alittlewordinyourear.Donotforgethowtocook.Itisalwaysusefultohavesomethingtofallbackuponincasethingsgowrong.”
“Credulous,”hemurmured,asourvisitordeparted,“butperhapsnotmorethanmostofherclass.”Hisfacegrewgrave.“Come,Hastings,thereisnotimetobelost.GetataxiwhileIwriteanotetoJapp.”
PoirotwaswaitingonthedoorstepwhenIreturnedwiththetaxi.
“Wherearewegoing?”Iaskedanxiously.
“First,todespatchthisnotebyspecialmessenger.”
Thiswasdone,andreenteringthetaxiPoirotgavetheaddresstothedriver.
“Eighty-eightPrinceAlbertRoad,Clapham.”
“Sowearegoingthere?”
“Maisoui.ThoughfranklyIfearweshallbetoolate.Ourbirdwillhaveflown,Hastings.”
“Whoisourbird?”
Poirotsmiled.
“TheinconspicuousMr.Simpson.”
“What?”Iexclaimed.
“Oh,comenow,Hastings,donottellmethatallisnotcleartoyounow!”
“Thecookwasgotoutoftheway,Irealizethat,”Isaid,slightlypiqued.“Butwhy?WhyshouldSimpsonwishtogetheroutofthehouse?Didsheknowsomethingabouthim?”
“Nothingwhatever.”
“Well,then—”
“Buthewantedsomethingthatshehad.”
“Money?TheAustralianlegacy?”
“No,myfriend—somethingquitedifferent.”Hepausedamomentandthensaidgravely:“Abatteredtintrunk….”
Ilookedsidewaysathim.HisstatementseemedsofantasticthatIsuspectedhimofpullingmyleg,buthewasperfectlygraveandserious.
“Surelyhecouldbuyatrunkifhewantedone,”Icried.
“Hedidnotwantanewtrunk.Hewantedatrunkofpedigree.Atrunkofassuredrespectability.”
“Lookhere,Poirot,”Icried,“thisreallyisabitthick.You’repullingmyleg.”
Helookedatme.
“YoulackthebrainsandtheimaginationofMr.Simpson,Hastings.Seehere:OnWednesdayevening,Simpsondecoysawaythecook.Aprintedcardandaprintedsheetofnotepaperaresimplematterstoobtain,andheiswillingtopay￡150andayear’shouserenttoassurethesuccessofhisplan.MissDunndoesnotrecognizehim—thebeardandthehatandtheslightcolonialaccentcompletelydeceiveher.ThatistheendofWednesday—exceptforthetriflingfactthatSimpsonhashelpedhimselftofiftythousandpounds’worthofnegotiablesecurities.”
“Simpson—butitwasDavis—”
“Ifyouwillkindlypermitmetocontinue,Hastings!SimpsonknowsthatthetheftwillbediscoveredonThursdayafternoon.HedoesnotgotothebankonThursday,butheliesinwaitforDaviswhenhecomesouttolunch.PerhapsheadmitsthetheftandtellsDavishewillreturnthesecuritiestohim—anyhowhesucceedsingettingDavistocometo
“AndDavis?”
Poirotmadeanexpressivegesture,andslowlyshookhishead.
“Itseemstoocold-bloodedtobebelieved,andyetwhatotherexplanationcantherebe,monami.Theonedifficultyforamurdereristhedisposalofthebody—andSimpsonhadplannedthatoutbeforehand.IwasstruckatoncebythefactthatalthoughElizaDunnobviouslymeanttoreturnthatnightwhenshewentout(witnessherremarkaboutthestewedpeaches)yethertrunkwasallreadypackedwhentheycameforit.ItwasSimpsonwhosentwordtoCarterPatersontocallonFridayanditwasSimpsonwhocordeduptheboxonThursdayafternoon.Whatsuspicioncouldpossiblyarise?Amaidleavesandsendsforherbox,itislabelledandaddressedreadyinhername,probablytoarailwaystationwithineasyreachofLondon.OnSaturdayafternoon,Simpson,inhisAustraliandisguise,claimsit,heaffixesanewlabelandaddressandredespatchesitsomewhereelse,again‘tobelefttillcalledfor.’Whentheauthoritiesgetsuspicious,forexcellentreasons,andopenit,allthatcanbeelicitedwillbethatabeardedcolonialdespatcheditfromsomejunctionnearLondon.Therewillbenothingtoconnectitwith88PrinceAlbertRoad.Ah!Hereweare.”
Poirot’sprognosticationshadbeencorrect.Simpsonhadleftdayspreviously.Buthewasnottoescapetheconsequencesofhiscrime.Bytheaidofwireless,hewasdiscoveredontheOlympia,enroutetoAmerica.
Atintrunk,addressedtoMr.HenryWintergreen,attractedtheattentionofrailwayofficialsatGlasgow.ItwasopenedandfoundtocontainthebodyoftheunfortunateDavis.
Mrs.Todd’schequeforaguineawasnevercashed.InsteadPoirothaditframedandhungonthewallofoursittingroom.
“Itistomealittlereminder,Hastings.Nevertodespisethetrivial—theundignified.Adisappearingdomesticatoneend—acold-bloodedmurderattheother.Tome,oneofthemostinterestingofmycases.”
AbouttheAuthor
AgathaChristieisthemostwidelypublishedauthorofalltimeandinanylanguage,outsoldonlybytheBibleandShakespeare.HerbookshavesoldmorethanabillioncopiesinEnglishandanotherbillioninahundredforeignlanguages.Sheistheauthorofeightycrimenovelsandshort-storycollections,nineteenplays,twomemoirs,andsixnovelswrittenunderthenameMaryWestmacott.
ShefirsttriedherhandatdetectivefictionwhileworkinginahospitaldispensaryduringWorldWarI,creatingthenowlegendaryHerculePoirotwithherdebutnovelTheMysteriousAffairatStyles.WithTheMurderintheVicarage,publishedin1930,sheintroducedanotherbelovedsleuth,MissJaneMarple.Additionalseriescharactersincludethehusband-and-wifecrime-fightingteamofTommyandTuppenceBeresford,privateinvestigatorParkerPyne,andScotlandYarddetectivesSuperintendentBattleandInspectorJapp.
ManyofChristie’snovelsandshortstorieswereadaptedintoplays,films,andtelevisionseries.TheMousetrap,hermostfamousplayofall,openedin1952andisthelongest-runningplayinhistory.Amongherbest-knownfilmadaptationsareMurderontheOrientExpress(1974)andDeathontheNile(1978),withAlbertFinneyandPeterUstinovplayingHerculePoirot,respectively.OnthesmallscreenPoirothasbeenmostmemorablyportrayedbyDavidSuchet,andMissMarplebyJoanHicksonandsubsequentlyGeraldineMcEwanandJuliaMcKenzie.
ChristiewasfirstmarriedtoArchibaldChristieandthentoarchaeologistSirMaxMallowan,whomsheaccompaniedonexpeditionstocountriesthatwouldalsoserveasthesettingsformanyofhernovels.In1971sheachievedoneofBritain’shighesthonorswhenshewasmadeaDameoftheBritishEmpire.Shediedin1976attheageofeighty-five.Heronehundredandtwentiethanniversarywascelebratedaroundtheworldin2010.
Visitwww.AuthorTracker.comforexclusiveinformationonyourfavoriteHarperCollinsauthors.
www.AgathaChristie.com
THEAGATHACHRISTIECOLLECTION
TheManintheBrownSuit
TheSecretofChimneys
TheSevenDialsMystery
TheMysteriousMr.Quin
TheSittafordMystery
ParkerPyneInvestigates
WhyDidn’tTheyAskEvans?
MurderIsEasy
TheRegattaMysteryandOtherStories
AndThenThereWereNone
TowardsZero
DeathComesastheEnd
SparklingCyanide
TheWitnessfortheProsecutionandOtherStories
CrookedHouse
ThreeBlindMiceandOtherStories
TheyCametoBaghdad
DestinationUnknown
OrdealbyInnocence
DoubleSinandOtherStories
ThePaleHorse
StaroverBethlehem:PoemsandHolidayStories
EndlessNight
PassengertoFrankfurt
TheGoldenBallandOtherStories
TheMousetrapandOtherPlays
TheHarlequinTeaSetandOtherStories
TheHerculePoirotMysteries
TheMysteriousAffairatStyles
TheMurderontheLinks
PoirotInvestigates
TheMurderofRogerAckroyd
TheBigFour
TheMysteryoftheBlueTrain
PerilatEndHouse
LordEdgwareDies
MurderontheOrientExpress
ThreeActTragedy
DeathintheClouds
TheA.B.C.Murders
MurderinMesopotamia
CardsontheTable
MurderintheMews
DumbWitness
DeathontheNile
AppointmentwithDeath
HerculePoirot’sChristmas
SadCypress
One,Two,BuckleMyShoe
EvilUndertheSun
FiveLittlePigs
TheHollow
TheLaborsofHercules
TakenattheFlood
TheUnderDogandOtherStories
Mrs.McGinty’sDead
AftertheFuneral
HickoryDickoryDock
DeadMan’sFolly
CatAmongthePigeons
TheClocks
ThirdGirl
Hallowe’enParty
ElephantsCanRemember
Curtain:Poirot’sLastCase
TheMissMarpleMysteries
TheMurderattheVicarage
TheBodyintheLibrary
TheMovingFinger
AMurderIsAnnounced
TheyDoItwithMirrors
APocketFullofRye
4:50fromPaddington
TheMirrorCrack’dfromSidetoSide
ACaribbeanMystery
AtBertram’sHotel
Nemesis
SleepingMurder
MissMarple:TheCompleteShortStories
TheTommyandTuppenceMysteries
TheSecretAdversary
PartnersinCrime
NorM?
BythePrickingofMyThumbs
PosternofFate
Memoirs
AnAutobiography
Come,TellMeHowYouLive
Copyright