Japp led the way down the passage and Poif°t followed him. His nose wrinkled. "Not nice," said Japp. "But what can you eS' peet? She's been dead well over a month." Theroom they went into was a small lumld and box room. In the middle of it was a big meca chest of the kind used for storing furs. The lid wa9 open. Poirot stepped forward and looked inside. He saw the foot first... "The champion deceiver of our time." --NEw YORK TIM9 i Berkley Books by Agatha Christie AND THEN THERE WERE NONE · THE GOLDEN BALL AND OTHER STORIES · THE MAN IN THE BROWN SUIT · THE MYSTERIOUS MR. QUIN · N OR M? · PARKER PYNE INVESTIGATES (also published as MR. PARKER PYNE, DETECTIVE) · PARTNERS IN CRIME · THE SECRET ADVERSARY · THE SECRET OF CHIMNEYS · THE SITTAFORD MYSTERY (also published as THE MURDER AT HAZELMOOR) THEY CAME TO BAGHDAD · TOWARDS ZERO · WHY DIDN'T THEY ASK EVANS? (also published as THE BOOMERANG CLUE) AGATHA CHRISTIE: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY STAR OVER BETHLEHEM Featuring Hercule Poirot THE A.B.C. MURDERS · APPOINTMENT WITH DEATH · THE BIG FOUR · CARDS ON THE TABLE · DEATH IN THE CLOUDS (also published as DEATH IN THE AIR) · DUMB WITNESS (also published as POIROT LOSES A CLIENT) ® ELEPHANTS CAN REMEMBER · EVIL UNDER THE SUN · FIVE LITTLE PIGS (also published as MURDER IN RETROSPECT) ® HALLOWE'EN PARTY · THE HOLLOW · THE LABORS OF HERCULES · LORD EDGWARE DIES (also published as THIRTEEN AT DINNER) ® MURDER IN MESOPOTAMIA · MURDER IN THE MEWS (also published as DEAD MAN'S MIRROR) · THE MURDER ON THE LINKS · THE MYSTERIOUS AFFAIR AT STYLES · THE MYSTERY OF THE BLUE TRAIN · ONE. TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE (also published as THE PATRIOTIC MURDERS) PERIL AT END HOUSE · TAKEN AT THE FLOOD (also published as THERE IS A TIDE...) · THREE ACT TRAGEDY (also published as MURDER IN THREE ACTS) · THE UNDERDOG AND OTHER STORIES · THE WITNESS FOR THE PROSECUTION AND OTHER STORIES Featuring Miss Jane Marple DOUBLE SIN AND OTHER STORIES · MISS MARPLE: THE COMPLETE SHORT STORIES · THE MOVING FINGER · MURDER AT THE VICARAGE · A MURDER IS ANNOUNCED · A POCKET FULL OF RYE · THE REGA'FrA MYSTERY AND OTHER STORIES · THE THIRTEEN PROBLEMS (also published as THE TUESDAY CLUB MURDERS) · THREE BLIND MICE AND OTHER STORIES / GATHA ( H STE One, Two, Buckle MyShoe (Also published as AN OVERDOSE OF DEATH and THE PATRIOTIC MURDERS) BERKLEY BOOKS, NEW YORK If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book." Also published as AN OVERDOSE OF DEATH and THE PATRIOTIC MURDERS This Berkley book contains the complete text of the original hardcover edition. It has been completely reset in a typeface designed for easy reading and was printed from new film. ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with G. P. Putnam's Sons PRINTING HISTORY Dodd, Mead edition published 1941 Dell edition / April 1982 Berkley edition / April 1984 All rights reserved. Copyright 1940, 1941 by Agatha Christie Mallowan. Copyright renewed 1968, 1969 by Agatha Christie Mallowan. Book design by Virginia M. Smith. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission. .For information address: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016. ISBN: 0425105709 A BERKLEY BOOK TM 757,375 Berkley Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, 200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016. The name "BERKLEY" and the "B" logo are trademarks belonging to Berkley Publishing Corporation. PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 30 29 28 27 Conn 1 One, Two, Buckle My Shoe 2 Three, Four, Shut the Door Five, Six, Pick Up Sticks 4 Seven, Eight, Lay Them Straight 5 Nine, Ten, a Good Fat Hen 6 Eleven, Twelve, Men Must Delve 7 Thirteen, Fourteen, Maids Are Courting 8 Fifteen, Sixteen, Maids in the Kitchen 9 Seventeen, Eighteen, Maids in Waiting 10 Nineteen, Twenty, My Plate's Empty 1 17 55 99 125 151 167 187 201 227 One, two, buckle my shoe, Three, four, shut the door, Five, six, pick up sticks, Seven, eight, lay them strait, Nine, ten, a sood fat hen, Eleven, twelve, men must delve, Thirteen, fourteen, Maids are courting, Fifteen, sixteen, Maids in the kitchen, Seventeen, eighteen, Maid in waitin$, Nineteen, twenty, my plate's empty .... I One, Two, Buckle My Shoe Mr. Morley was not in the best of tempers at bre: fast. He complained of the bacon, wondered why coffee had to have the appearance of liquid mud, a remarked that breakfast cereals were each one we than the last. Mr. Morley was a small man with a decided j and a pugnacious chin. His sister, who kept house him, was a large woman rather like a female gre dier. She eyed her brother thoughtfully and as[ whether the bath water had been cold again. Rather grudgingly, Mr. Morley said it had not. He glanced at the paper and remarked that ' Government seemed to be passing from a state of competence to one of positive imbecility! Miss Morley said in a deep bass voice that it, disgraceful! I One, Two, Buckle My Shoe Mr. Morley was not in the best of tempers at breakfast. He complained of the bacon, wondered why the coffee had to have the appearance of liquid mud, and remarked that breakfast cereals were each one worse than the last. Mr. Morley was a small man with a decided jaw and a pugnacious chin. His sister, who kept house for him, was a large woman rather like a female grenadier. She eyed her brother thoughtfully and asked whether the bath water had been cold again. Rather grudgingly, Mr. Morley said it had not. He glanced at the paper and remarked that the Government seemed to be passing from a state of incompetence to one of positive imbecility! Miss Morley said in a deep bass voice that it was disgraceful! Agatha Christie As a mere woman she had always found whatever Government happened to be in power distinctly useful. She urged her brother on to explain exactly why the Government's present policy was inconclusive, idiotic, imbecile and frankly suicidal! When Mr. Morley had expressed himself fully on these points, he had a second cup of the despised coffee and unburdened himself of his true grievance. "These girls," he said, "are all the same! Unreliable, self-centered--not to be depended on in any way." Miss Morley said 'interrogatively: "G!adys?" "I've just had the message. Her aunt's had a stroke and she's had to go down to Somerset." Miss Morley said: "Very trying, dear, but after all, hardly the girl's fault." Mr. Morley shook his head gloomily. "How do I know the aunt has had a stroke? How do I know the whole thing hasn't been arranged between the girl and that very unsuitable young fellow she goes about with? That young man is a wrong 'un if I ever saw one! They've probably planned some outing together for today." "Oh, no, dear, I don't think G!adys would do a thing like that. You know you've always found her very conscientious.". "Yes, yes." "An intelligent girl and really keen on her work, you said." "Yes, yes, Georgina, but that was before this undesirable young man came along. She's been quite different lately--quite different--absentminded--upset--nervy." ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE The grenadier produced a deep sigh. She said: "After all, Henry, girls do fall in love. It can't be helped." Mr. Morley snnpped: "She oughtn't to let it affect her efficiency us my secretary. And to-day, in particular, I'm extremely busy! Several we important patients. It is most trying!" "I'm sure it must be extremely vexing, Henry. How is the new boy shaping, by the way?" Henry Morley said gloomily: "He's the worst I've had yet! Can't get a single name right and has the most uncouth manners. If he doesn't improve I shall sack him and try again. I don't know what's the good of our education nowadays. It seems to turn out a collection of nit-wits who can't understand a single thing you say to them, let alone remember it." He glanced at his watch. "I must be getting along. A full morning, and that Sainsbury Seale woman to fit in somewhere us she is in pain. I suggested that she should Reilly, but she wouldn't hear of it." "Of course not," said Georgina loyally. "Reilly's very able--very able indnnl. Fit-clnsa diplomas. Thoroughly up to date in his work." "His hand shakes," said Mkna Morley. "In my opinion he drinks." Her brother laughed, his good temper restored. He said: I'll be up for a sandwich at half past one us usual." Agatha Christie II At the Savoy Hotel Mr. Amberiotis was picking his teeth and grinning to himself. Everything was going very nicely. He had had his usual luck. Fancy those few kind words of his to that idiotic hen of a woman being so richly repaid. Oh! well--cast your bread upon the waters. He had always been a kind-hearted man. And generous! In the future he would be able to be even more generous. Benevolent visions floated before his eyes. Little Dimitri .... And the good Constantopopolous struggling with his little restaurant .... What pleasant surprises for them .... ' The toothpick probed unguardedly and Mr. Am-beriotis winced. Rosy visions of the future faded and gave way to apprehensions of the immediate present. He explored tenderly with his tongue. He took out his notebook. Twelve o'clock. 58 Queen Charlotte Street. He tried to recapture his former exultant mood, but in vain. The horizon had shrunk to six bare words: "58 Queen Charlotte Street. Twelve o'clock." III At the G!engowrie Court Hotel, South Kensington, breakfast was over. In the lounge, Miss Sains-bury Seale was sitting talking to Mrs. Bolitho. They occupied adjacent tables in the dining room and had made friends the day after Miss Sainsbury Seale's arrival a week ago. Miss Sainsbury Seale said: ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE "You know, dear, it really has stopped aching! Not a twinge! I think perhaps I'll ring up--" Mrs. Bolitho interrupted her. "Now don't be foolish, my dear. You go to the dentist and get it over." Mrs. Bolitho was a tall, commanding female with a deep voice. Miss Sainsbury Seale was a woman of forty-odd with indecisively bleached hair rolled up in untidy curls. Her clothes were shapeless and rather artistic, and her pince-nez were always dropping off. She was a great talker. She said now wistfully: "But, really, you know, it doesn't ache at all." "Nonsense. You told me you hardly slept a wink last night." "No, I didn'twno, indeed--but perhaps now the nerve has actually died." "All the more reason to go to the dentist," said Mrs. Bolitho firmly. "We all like to put it off, but that's just cowardice. Better make up one's mind and get it over!" Something hovered onMiss Sainsbury Seale's lips. Was it the rebellious murmur of: "Yes, but it's not your tooth!" All she actually said, however, was: "I expect you are right. And Mr. Morley is such a careful man and really never hurts one at all." IV The meeting of the Board of Directors was over. It had passed off smoothly. The report was good. There should have been no discordant note. Yet to the sensitive Mr. Samuel Rotherstein there had been 6 Agatha Christie something, some nuance in the chairman's manner. There had been, once or twice, a shortness, an acerbity in his tone--quite uncalled for by the proceedings. Some secret worry, perhaps? But, somehow, Rotherstein could not connect a secret worry with Alistair Blunt. He was such an unemotional man. He was so very normal. So essentially British. There was, of course, always liver .... Mr. Rotherstein's liver gave him a bit of trouble from time to time. But he'd never known Alistair complain of his liver. Alistair's health was as sound as his brain and his grasp of finance. It was not annoying heartiness --just quiet we!l-being. And yet--there was something--once or twice the chairman's hand had wandered to his face. He had sat supporting his chin. Not his normal attitude. And once or twice he had seemed actually--yes, distrait. They came out of the Board Room and passed down the stairs. Rotherstein said: "Can't give you a lift, I suppose?" A!istair Blunt smiled and shook his head. "My car's waiting." He glanced at his watch. "I'm not going back to the city." He paused. "As a matter of fact, I've got an appointment with the dentist.'' The mystery was solved. V Hercule Poirot descended from his taxi, paid the man and rang the bell of 58 Queen Charlotte Street. After a little delay it was opened by a lad in page ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE boy's uniform, with a freckled face, red hair, and an earnest manner. Hercule Poirot said: "Mr. Morley?" There was in his heart a ridiculous hope that Mr. Morley might have been called away, might be indisposed, might not be seeing patients to-day .... All in vain. The page boy drew back, Hercule Poirot stepped inside, and the door closed behind him with the quiet remorselessness of unalterable doom. The boy said: "Name, please?" Poirot gave it to him, a door on the right of the hall was thrown open and he stepped into the waiting room. It was a-room furnished in quiet good taste and, to Hercule Poirot, indescribably gloomy. On the polished (reproduction) Sheraton table were carefully arranged papers and periodicals. The (reproduction) Hepplewhite sideboard held two Sheffield plated candlesticks and an epergne. The mantelpiece held a bronze clock and two bronze vases. The windows were shrouded by curtains of blue velvet. The chairs were upholstered in a Jacobean design of red birds and flowers. In one of them sat a military looking gentleman with a fierce moustache and a yellow complexion. He looked at Poirot with an air of one considering some noxious insect. It was not so much his gun he looked as though he wished he had with him, as his Flit spray. Poirot, eyeing him with distaste, said to himself, "In verity, there are some Englishmen who are altogether so unpleasing and ridiculous that they should have been put out of their misery at birth." The military gentleman, after a prolonged glare, $ Agatha Christie snatched up the Times, turned his chair so as to avoid seeing Poirot, and settled down to read it. Poirot picked up Punch. He went through it meticulously, but failed to find any of the jokes funny. The page boy came in and said, "Colonel Arrow-bumby?"--and the military gentleman was led away. Poirot was speculating on the probabilities of there really being such a name, when the door opened to admit a young man of about thirty. As the young man stood by the table, restlessly flicking over the covers of magazines, Poirot looked at him sideways. An unpleasant and dangerous looking young man, he thought, and not impossibly a murderer. At any rate he looked far more like a tour-deter than many of the murderers Hercule Poirot had arrested in the course of his career. The page boy opened the door and said to midair: "Mr. Peerer?" Rightly construing this as a summons to himself, Poirot rose. The boy led him to the back of the hall and round the corner to a small elevator in which he took him up to the second floor. Here he led him along a passage, opened a door which led into a little anteroom, tapped at a second door and without waiting for a reply, opened it and stood back for Poirot to enter. Poirot entered to a sound of running water and came round the back of the door to discover Mr. Morley washing his hands with professional gusto at a basin on the wall. There are certain humiliating moments in the lives ' of the greatest of men. It has been said that no man is ' a hero to his valet. To that may be added that few men are heroes to themselves at the moment of visiting their dentist. Hercule Poirot was morbidly conscious of this fact. He was a man who was accustomed to have a good opinion of himself. He was Hercule Poirot, superior in most ways to other men. But in this moment he was unable to feel superior in any way whatever. His morale was down to zero. He was just that ordinary, that craven figure, a man afraid of the dentist's chair. Mr. Morley had finished his professional ablu tions. He was speaking now in his encouraging pro fessional manner. Hardly as warm as it should be, was it, for the time of year? :! Gently he led the way.to the appointed spot--to The Chair! Deftly he played with its headrest, run ning it up and down. . Hercule Poirot took a deep breath, stepped up, sat down, and relaxed his head to Mr. Morley's profes sional fiddlings. "There," said Mr. Morley with hideous cheerful ness. "That quite comfortable? Sure?" In sepulchral tones Poirot said that it was quite comfortable. Mr. Morley swung his little table nearer, picked up his little mirror, seized an instrument and prepared to get on with the job. Hercule Poirot grasped the arms of the chair, shut ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE VI 10 Agatha Christie his eyes and opened his mouth. "Any special trouble?" Mr. Morley inquired. Slightly indistinctly, owing to the difficulty of forming consonants while keeping the mouth open, Hercule Poirot was understood to say that there was no special trouble. This was indeed the twice yearly overhaul that his sense of order and neatness demanded. It was, of course, possible that there might be nothing to do .... Mr. Morley might, perhaps, overlook that second tooth from the back from which those twinges had come He might--but it was unlikely--for Mr. Morley was a very good den tist. Mr. Morley passed slowly from tooth to tooth, tapping and probing, murmuring little comments as he did so. "That filling is wearing down a little--nothing serious, though. Gums are in pretty good condition, I'm glad to see." A pause at a suspect, a twist of the probe--no, on again; false alarm. He passed to the lower side. One, twoton to three? No-- "The dog," Hercule Poirot thought in confused idiom, "has seen the rabbit!" "A little trouble here. Not been giving you any pain? H'm, I'm surprised." The probe went on. Finally Mr. Morley drew back, satisfied. "Nothing very serious. Just a couple of fillings-- and a trace of decay on that upper molar. We can get it all done, I think, this morning." He turned on a switch and there was a hum. Mr. Morley unhooked the drill and fitted a needle to it with loving care. "Guide me," he said briefly, and started the dread work. It was not necessary for Poirot to avail himself of ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE 11 this permission, to raise a hand, to wince, or even to yell. At exactly the right moment, Mr. Morley stopped the drill, gavethe brief command "Rinse," applied a little dressing, selected a new needle and continued. The ordeal of the drill was terror rather than pain. Presently, while Mr. Morley was preparing the fi!ling, conversation was resumed. "Have to do this myself this morning," he explained. "Miss Nevill has been called away. You remember Miss Nevill?" Poirot untruthfully assented. "Called away to the country by the illness of a relative. Sort of thing that does happen on a busy day. I'm behindhand already this morning. The patient before you was late. Very vexing when that happens. It throws the whole morning out. Then I have to fit in an extra patient because she is in pain. I always allow quarter of an hour in a morning in case that happens. Still, it adds to the rush." Mr. Morley peered into his little mortar as he ground. Then he resumed his discourse. "I'll tell you something that I've always noticed, M. Poirot. The big peoplethe important people--they're always on time--never keep you waiting. Royalty, for instance. Most punctilious. And these big City men are the same. Now this morning I've got a most important man coming--Alistair Blunt!" Mr. Morley spoke the name in a voice of triumph. Poirot, prohibited from speech by several rolls of cotton wool and a glass tube that gurgled under his tongue, made an indeterminate noise. Aiistair Blunt! Those were the names that thrilled nowadays. Not Dukes, not Earls, not Prime Ministers. No, plain Mr. Alistair Blunt. A man whose face 12 Aatha Christie was almost unknown to the general public--a man who only figured in an occasional quiet paragraph. Not a spectacular person. Just a quiet nondescript Englishman who was the head of the greatest banking firm in England. A man of vast wealth. A man who said Yes and No to Governments. A man who lived a quiet, unobtrusive life and never appeared on a public platform or made speeches. Yet a man in whose hands lay supreme power. Mr. Morley's voice still held a reverent tone as he stood over Poirot ramming the filling home. "Always comes to his appointments absolutely on time. Often sends his car away and walks back to his office. Nice, quiet, unassuming fellow. Fond of golf and keen on his garden. You'd never dream he could buy up half Europe! Just like you and me." A momentary resentment rose in Poirot at this offhand coupling of names. Mr. Morley was a good dentist, yes, but there .,ere other good dentists in London. There Was only one Hercule Poirot. "Rinse, please," said Mr. Morley. "It's the answer, you know, to their Hitlers and Musolinis and all 'the rest of them," went on Mr. Morley, as he proceeded to tooth number two. "We don't make a fuss over here. Look how democratic our King and Queen are. Of course a Frenchman like you, accustomed to the Republican idea--" "I ah hah a Frahah--i ah--ha a Benyon." "Tchut--tchut--" said Mr. Morley sadly. "We must have the cavity completely dry." He puffed hot air relentlessly on it. Then he went on: "I didn't realize you were a Belgian. Very interesting. Very fine man, King Leopold, so I've always ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE 13 heard. I'm a great believer in the tradition of Royalty myself. The training is good, you know. Look at the remarkable way they remember names and faces. All the result of training--though of course some people have a natural aptitude for that sort of thing. I, myself, for instance. I don't remember names, but it's remarkable the way I never forget a face. One of my patients the other day, for instance--I've seen that patient before. The name meant nothing to but I said to myself at once, 'Now where have I met you before?' I've not remembered yet--but it will come back to me--l'm sure of it. Just another rinse, please." The rinse accomplished, Mr. Morley peered critically into his patient's mouth. "Well, I think that seems all right. Just close--very gently .... Quite comfortable? You don't feel the filling at all? Open again, please. No, that seems quite all right." The table swung back, the chair swung round. Hercule Poirot descended, a free man. "Well, good-bye, M. Poirot. Not detected any criminals in my house, I hope?" Poirot said with a smile: "Before I came up, everyone looked to me like a criminal! Now, perhaps, it will be different!" "Ah, yes, a great deal of difference between before and after! All the same, we dentists aren't such devils now as we used to be! Shall I ring for the elevator for you?" "No, no, I will walk down." "As you like--the elevator is just by the stairs." Poirot went out. He heard the faucets start to run as he closed the door behind him. He walked down the two flights of stairs. As he 14 ARatha Christie came to the last bend, he saw the AngloIndian Colonel being shown out. Not at all a bad looking man, Poirot reflected mellowly. Probably a fine shot who had killed many a tiger. A useful man--a regular outpost of Empire. He went into the waiting room to fetch his hat and stick which he had left there. The restless young man was still there somewhat to Poirot's surprise. Another patient, a man, was reading the Field. Poirot studied the young man in his newborn spirit of kindliness. He still looked very fierce--and as though he wanted to do a murder--but not really a murderer--thought Poirot kindly. Doubtless, presently, this young man would come tripping down the stairs, his ordeal over, happy and smiling and wishing no ill to anyone. The page boy entered and said firmly and distinctly: "Mr. Blunt." The man at the table !aid down the Field and got up. A man of middle height, of middle age, neither fat nor thin. Well dressed, quiet. He went out after the boy. One of the richest and most powerful men in England--but he still had to go to the dentist just like anybody else, and no doubt felt just the same as anybody else about it! These reflections passing through his mind, Her-cule Poirot picked up his hat and stick and went to the door. He glanced back as he did so, and the startled thought' went through his mind that that young man must have a very bad toothache indeed. In the hill Poirot paused before the mirror there to adjust his moustaches, slightly disarranged as the result of Mr. Morley's ministrations. He had just completed their arrangement to his ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE 15 satisfaction when the elevator came down again and the page boy emerged from the back of the hall whistling discordantly. He broke off abruptly at the sight of Poirot and came to open the front door for him. A taxi had just drawn up before the house and a foot was protruding from it. Poirot surveyed the foot with gallant interest. A neat ankle, quite a good quality stocking. Not a bad foot. But he didn't like the shoe. A brand new patent leather shoe with a large gleaming buckle. He shook his head. Not chic--very provincial! The lady got out of the taxi, but in doing so she caught her other foot in the door and the buckle was wrenched off. It fell tinkling to the pavement. Gallantly Poirot sprang forward and picked it up, restoring it with a bow. Alas! Nearer fifty than forty. Pince-nez. Untidy yellow-grey hair--unbecoming clothes--those depressing art greens! She thanked him, again dropping her pince-nez, then her handbag. Poirot, polite if no !onger gallant, picked them up for her. She went Up the steps of 58 Queen Charlotte Street, and Poirot interrupted the taxi driver's disgusted contemplation of a meager tip. "yOu are free, hein?" The taxi driver said gloomily: "Oh, I'm free." "So am I," said Hercule Poirot. "Free of care!" He saw the taxi man's air of deep suspicion. "No, my friend, I am not drunk. It is that I have been to the dentist and I need not go again for six months. It is a beautiful thought." Three, Four, Shut the Door It was a quarter to three when the telephone rang. Hercule Poirot was sitting in an easy chair, happily digesting an excellent lunch. He did not move when the bell rang but waited for the faithful George to come and take the call. "Eh bien," he said, as George, with a "Just a minute, sir," lowered the receiver. "It's Chief Inspector Japp, sir." "Aha!" Poirot lifted the receiver to his ear. "Eh bien, rnon vieux," he said. "How goes it?" "That you, Poirot?" "Naturally." "I hear you went to the dentist this morning? Is that so?" Poirot murmured, "Scotland Yard knows everything!" 18 Aatha Christie "Man by the name of Morley. 58 Queen Charlotte Street." "Yes." Poirot's voice had changed. "Why?" "It was a genuine visit, was it? I mean you didn't go to stir him up or anything of that sort?" '.'Certainly not. I had three teeth filled if you want to know." "What did he seem like to. you--manner much as usual?" "I should say so, yes. Why?" Japp's voice was rigidly unemotional. "Because not so very much later he shot himself." "What?" Japp said sharply, "That surprises you ?" "Frankly, it does." Japp said, "I'm not too happy about it myself, I'd like to have a talk with you. I suppose you wouldn't like to come round?" "Where are you?" "Queen Charlotte Street." Poirot said, "I will join you immediately." II It was a police constable who opened the door of Number 58. He said respectfully: "M. Poirot?" "It's I, myself." "The Chief Inspector is upstairs. Second floor--you know it?" Hercule Poirot said: ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE 19 "I was there this morning." There were three men in the room. Japp looked up as Poirot entered. He said: "Glad to see you, Poirot. We're just going to move him. Like to see him first?" A man with a camera who had been kneeling near the body got up. Poirot came forward. The body was lying near the fireplace. In death Mr. Morley looked very much as he had looked in life. There was a little blackened hole just below his right temple. A small pistol lay on the floor near his outflung right hand. Poirot shook his head gently. Japp said: "All right, you can move him now." They took Mr. Morley away. Japp and Poirot were left alone. Japp said: "We're through all the routine. Finger*prints, etc." Poirot sat down. He said: "Tell me." Japp pursed up his lips. He said: "He could have shot himself. He probably did shoot himself. There are only his finger-prints on the gun--but I'm not quite satisfied." "What are your objections?" "Well, to begin with, there doesn't seem to be any reason why he should shoot himself .... He was in good health, he was making money, he hadn't any worries that anyone knew of. He wasn't mixed up with a womanmat least," Japp corrected himself cautiously, "as far as we know he wasn't. He hasn't been moody or depressed or unlike himself. That's 20 Agatha Chrvtie partly why I was anxious to hear what you said. You saw him this morning, and I wondered if you'd noticed anything.", Poirot shook his head. "Nothing at all. He was--what shall I say?--normality itself." "Then that makes it odd, doesn't it? Anyway, you wouldn't think a man would shoot himself in the middle of business hours, so to speak. Why not wait till this evening? That would be the natural thing to do." Poirot agreed. "When did the tragedy occur?" "Can't say exactly. Nobody seems to have heard the shot. But I don't think they would. There are two doors between here and the passage and they have baize fitted round the edges--to deaden the noise from the victims of the dental chair, I imagine." "Very probably. Patients under gas sometimes make a lot of noise." "Quite. And outside, in the street, there's plenty of traffic, so you wouldn't be likely to hear it out there." "When was it discovered?" "Round about l:30mby the page boy, Alfred Biggs. Not a very bright specimen, by all accounts. It seems that Morley's 12:30 patient kicked up a bit of a row at being kept waiting. About 1:10 the boy came up and knocked. There was no answer and apparently he didn't dare come in. He'd got in a few rows already from Morley and he was nervous of doing the wrong thing. He went down again and the patient walked out in a huff at 1:15. I don't blame her. She'd been kept waiting three-quarters of an hour and she wanted her lunch." ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE 21 "Who was she?" Japp grinned. "According to the boy she was Miss Shirty--but from the appointment book her name was Kirby." "What system was there for showing up patients?'' "When Morley was ready for his next patient he pressed that buzzer over there nnd the boy then showed the patient up.' "And Morley pressed the buzzer last?" "At five minutes past twelve, and the boy showed up the patient who was waiting. Mr. Amberiotis, Savoy Hotel, according to the appointment book." A faint smile came to Poirot's lips. He murmured: "I wonder what our page boy made of that "A pretty hash, I should say. We'll ask him presently if we feel like a laugh." Poirot said: "And at what time did this Mr. Amberiotis leave?" "The boy didn't show him out, so he doesn't know. A good many patients just go down the stairs without ringing for the elevator and let themselves out." Poirot nodded. Japp went on: "But I rang up the Savoy Hotel. Mr. Amberiotis was quite precise. He said he looked at his watch as he closed the front door and it was then twenty-five minutes past twelve." "He could tell you nothing of importance?" "No, all he could say was that the dentist had seemed perfectly normal and calm in his manner." "Eh being," said Poirot. "Then that seems quite 22 Aatha Christie' clear. Between five and twenty past twelve and half-past one something happened--and presumably nearer the former time." "Quite. Because otherwise--" "Otherwise he would have pressed the buzzer for the next patient." "Exactly. The medical evidence agrees with that for what it's worth. The divisional surgeon examined the body--at twenty past two. He wooldn't commit himself--they never do nowadays--too many individual idiosyncrasies, they say. But Morley couldn't have been shot later than one o'clock, he says--probably considerably earlier--but he wouldn't be definite?' Poirot said thoughtfully: "Then at twenty-five minutes past twelve our dentist is a normal dentist, cheerful, urbane, competent. And after that? Despair--misery--what you .will--and he shoots himself." "It's funny," said Japp. "You've got to admit, it's funny." "Funny," said Poirot, "is not the word." "I know it isn't really--but it's the sort of thing one says. It's odd, then, if you like that better." "Was it his own pistol?" "No, it wasn't. He hadn't got a pistol. Never had had one. According to his sister there wasn't such a thing in the house. There isn't in most houses. Of course he might have bought it if he'd made up his mind to do away with himself. If so, we'll soon know about it." Poirot asked: "Is there anything else that worries you?" Japp rubbed his nose. "Well, there was the way he was lying. I wouldn't ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE 23 say a man couldn't fall like that--but it wasn't quite right somehow! And there was just a trace or two on the carpet--as though something had been dragged along it." "That, then, is decidedly suggestive." "Yes, unless it was that dratted boy. I've a feeling that he may have tried to move Morley when he found him. He denies it, of course, but then he was scared. He's that kind of young ass. The kind that's always putting his foot in it and getting cursed, and so they come to lie about things almost automatically." Poirot looked thoughtfully round the room. At the wash basin on the wall behind the door, at the tall filing cabinet on the other side of the door. At the dental chair and surrounding apparatus near the window, then along to the fireplace and back to where the body lay; there was a second door in the wall near the fireplace. .lapp had followed his glance. ",lust a small office through there." He flung open the door. It was as he had said, a small room, with a desk, a table with a spirit lamp and tea apparatus, and some chairs. There was no other door. "This is where his secretary worked," explained Japp. "Miss Nevill. It seems she's away today." His eyes met Poirot's. The latter said: '"He told me, I remember. That again--might be a point against suicide?" "You mean she was got out of the way?" ,lapp paused. He said: "If it wasn't suicide, he was murdered. But why? That solution seems almost as unlikely as the other. He seems to have been a quiet inoffensive sort of Aatha Christie chap. Who would want to murder him?" Poirot said: "Who could have murdered him?" Japp said, "The answer to that is--almost anybody! His sister could have come down from their flat above and shot him, one of the servants could have come in and shot him. His partner, Reilly, could have shot him. The boy Alfred could have shot him. One of the patients could have shot him." He paused and said, "And Amberiotis could have shot him-- easiest of the lot." Poirot nodded. "But in that case--we have to find out why?" "Exactly. You've come round again to the original problem. Why? Amberiotis is saying at the Savoy. Why does a rich Greek want to come and shoot an inoffensive dentist? "That's really going to be our stumbling block. Motive!" Poirot shrugged his shoulders. He said: "It would seem that death selected, most inartistically, the wrong man. The Mysterious Greek, the Rich Banker, the Famous Detective--how natural that one of them should be shot! For mysterious foreigners may be mixed up in espionage and rich bankers have connections who will benefit by their deaths and famous detectives may be dangerous to criminals." "Whereas, poor old Morley wasn't dangerous to anybody," observed Japp gloomily. "I wonder." Japp whirled round on him. "What's up your sleeve now?" "Nothing. A chance remark." He repeated to Japp those few casual words of Mr. ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE 25 Morley's about recognising faces, and his mention of a patient. Japp looked doubtful. "It's possible, I suppose. But it's a bit farfetched. It must have been someone who wanted his identity kept dark. You didn't notice any of the other patients this morning?" Poirot murmured: "I noticed in the waiting room a young man who looked exactly like a murderer!" .lapp said, startled: "What's that?" Poirot smiled: "Mon cher, it was upon my arrival here! I was nervous, fanciful--enfin, in a mood. Everything seemed sinister to me, the waiting room, the patients, the very carpet on the stairs! Actually, I think the young man had a very bad toothache. That was'all!" "I know what it can be," said Japp. "However, we'll check up on your murderer all th. same. We'll check up on everybody, whether it's suicide or not. I think the first thing is to have another talk with Miss Morley. I've only had a word or two. It was a shock to her, of course, but she's the kind that doesn't break down. We'll go and see her now." III Tall and grim, Georgina Morley listened to what the two men had to say and answered their questions. She said with emphasis: "It's incredible to me--quite incredible--that my brother should have committed suicide!" 26 Agatha Christie Poirot said: "You realize the alternative, Mademoiselle?" "You mean--murder." She paused. Then she said slowly: "It is truemthat alternative seems nearly as impossible as the other." "But not quite as impossible?" "Nombecause--oh, in the first case, you see, I am speaking of something I know--that is, my brother's state of mind. I know he had nothing on his mind--I know that there was no reason--no reason at all why he should take his own life!" "You saw him this morning--before he started work?" "At breakfast--yes." "And he was quite as usual--not upset in any way?" "He was upset--but not in the way you mean. He was just annoyed!" "Why was that?" "He had a busy morning in front of him, and his secretary and assistant had been called away." "That is Miss Nevi!i?" "What did she do for him?" "She did all his correspondence, of course, and kept the appointment book, and filed all the charts. She also saw to the sterilizing of the instruments and ground up his fillings and handed them to him when he was working." "Had she been with him long?" "Three years. She is a very reliable girl and we are--were both very fond of her." Poirot said: "She was called away owing to the illness of a relative, so your brother told me." ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE 27 "Yes, she got a telegram to say her aunt had had a stroke. She went off to Somerset by an early train." "And that was what annoyed your brother so much?" "Ye-es." There was a faint hesitation in Miss Morley's answer. She went on rather hurriedly. "'You--you mustn't think my brother unfeeling. It was only that he thoughtmjust for a momentm'' "Yes, Miss Morley?" "Well, that she might have played truant on purpose. Oh! please don't misunderstand me--I'm quite certain that Gladys would never do such a thing. I told Henry so. But the fact of the matter is, that she has got herself engaged to rather an unsuitable young man--Henry was very vexed about it--and it occurred to him that this young man might have persuaded her to take a day off." "Was that likely?" "No, I'm sure it wasn't. Gladys is a very conscientious girl." "But it is the sort of thing the young man might have suggested?" Miss Morley sniffed. "Quite likely, I should say." "What does he do, this young fellow--what is his name, by the way?" "Carter, Frank Carter. He ismor was--an insurance clerk, I believe. He lost his job some weeks ago and doesn't seem able to get another. Henry said--and I daresay he was rightmthat he is a complete rotter. G!adys had actually lent him some of her savings and Henry was very annoyed about it." lapp said sharply: "Did your brother try to persuade her to break her engagement?" 28 Agatha Christie "Yes, he did, I know." "Then this Frank Carter would, quite possibly; have a grudge against your brother." The grenadier said robustly: "Nonsensemthat is if you are suggesting that Frank Carter shot Henry. Henry advised the girl against young Carter, certainly; but she didn't take his advice--she is foolishly devoted to Frank." "Is there anyone else you can think of who had a grudge against your brother?" Miss Morley shook her head. "Did he get on well with his partner, Mr. Reilly?" Miss Morley replied acidly: "As well as you can ever hope to get on with an Irishman!" "What do you mean by that, Miss Morley?" "Well, Irishmen have hot tempers and they thoroughly enjoy a row of any kind. Mr. Reilly liked arguing about politics." "That was all?" "That was all. Mr. Reilly is unsatisfactory in many ways, but he was very skilled in his profession--or so my brother said." Japp persisted: "How is he unsatisfactory?" Miss Morley hesitated, then said acidly: "He drinks too much--but please don't let that go any further." "Was there any trouble between him and your brother on that subject?" "Henry gave him one or two hints. In dentistry," continued Miss Morley didactically, "a steady hand is needed, and an alcoholic breath does not inspire confidence." Japp bowed his head in agreement. Then he mid: ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE 29 "Can you tell us anything of your brother's financial position?" "Henry was making a good income and he had a certain amount put by. We each had a small private income of our own left to us by our father." Japp murmured with a slight cough: "You don't know, I suppose, if your brother left a will ?" "He did--and I can tell you its contents. He left a hundred pounds to Gladys Nevill, otherwise everything comes to me." "I see. Now--" There was a fierce thump on the door. Alfred's face then appeared round it. His goggling eyes took in each detail of the two visitors as he ejaculated: "It's Miss Nevill. She's back--and in a bad state. Shall she come in, she wants to know?" Japp nodded and Miss Morley said: "Tell her to come here, Alfred." "O.K.," said Alfred, and disappeared. Miss Morley said with a sigh and in obvious capital letters: "That Boy is a Sad Trial." IV Gladys Nevill was a tall, fair, somewhat anaemic girl of about twenty-eight. Though obviously very upset, she at once showed that she was capable and intelligent. Under the pretext of looking through Mr. Morley's papers, Japp got her away from Miss Morley down to the little office next door to the surgery. 30 Agatha Chrt She repeated more than once: "I simply cannot believe it! It seems quite incredible that Mr. Morley should do such a thing!" She was emphatic that he had not seemed troubled or worried in any way. Then Japp began: "You were called away to-day, Miss Nevill--" She interrupted him. "Yes, and the whole thing was a wicked practical joke! I do think it's awful of people to do things like that. I really do." "What do you mean, Miss Nevill?" "Why, there wasn't anything the matter with Aunt at all. She'd never been better. She couldn't understand it when I suddenly turned up. Of course I was ever so glad--but it did make me mad. Sending a telegram like that and upsetting me and everything." "Have you got that telegram, Miss Nevill?" "I threw it away, I think, at the station. It just said Your aunt had stroke last night. Please come at once." "You are quite sure--we!l--" Japp coughed delicately--"that it wasn't your friend, Mr. Carter, who sent that telegram?" "Frank? Whatever for? Oh! I see, you mean--a put up job between us? No, indeed, Inspector--neither of us would do such a thing." Her indignation seemed genuine enough and Japp had a little trouble in soothing her down. But a question as to the patients on this particular morning restored her to her competent self. "They are all here in the book. I daresay you have seen it already. I know about most of them. Ten o'clock Mrs. Soames--that was about her new plate --10:30 Lady Grant--she's an elderly lady--lives in ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE Lowndes Square. Eleven o'clock M. Hercule Poirot, he comes regularly--oh, of course this/$ him--sorry, M. Poirot, but I really am so upset! At 11:30, Mr. Alistair Blunt--that's the banker, you knowa shor appointme, nt, because Mr. Morley had prepared the filling last time. Then Miss Sainsbury Seale--sh rang up specially--had toothache and so Mr. Morle] fitted her in. A terrible talker she is, never stops--th fusskind, too. Then at twelve o'clock Mr. Amberi otis--he was a new patient--made an appointmen from the Savoy Hotel. Mr. Morley gets quite a lot o foreigners and Americans. Then 12:30 Miss Kirby She comes up from Worthing." Poirot asked: "There was here when I arrived a tall militar) gentleman. Who would he be?" "One of Mr. Reilly'spatients, I expect. I'll just his list for you, shall I?" "Thank you, Miss Nevill." She was absent only a few minutes. She returne with a book similar to that of Mr. Morley's. She read out: "Ten o'clock Betty Heath (That's a little girl o nine.); eleven o'clock, Colonel Abercrombie." "Abercrombie!" murmured Poirot. "C'tait a!' ,Eleven-thirty, Mr. Howard Raikes. Twelv, o'clock, Mr. Barnes, and that was all the patients thi., morning. Mr. Reiily isn't .so booked up as Mr Morley, of course." "Can you tell us anything about any of these pa. tients of Mr. Reilly's?" "Colonel Abercrombie has been a patient for long time, and all of Mrs. Heath's children come t Mr. Reilly. I can't tell you anything about Mr Raikes or Mr. Barnes, though I fancy I have hear 32 Agatha Christie their names. I take all the telephone calls, you see--" Japp said: "We can ask Mr. Reilly ourselves. I should like to see him as soon as possible." Miss Nevill went out. Japp Said to Poirot: "All old patients of Mr. Morley's except Arnberiotis. I'm going to have an interesting talk with Mr. Amberiotis presently. He's the last person, as it stands, to see Morley alive, and we've got to make quite sure that when he last saw him, Morley was alive." Poirot said slowly, shaking his head: "You have still to prove motive." "I know. That's what is going to be the teaser. But we may have something about Amberiotis at the Yard." He added sharply: "You're very thoughtful, Poirot!" "I was wondering about something.'' "What was it?" Poirot said with faint smile: "Why Chief Inspector Japp?" "Eh?" "I said, 'Why Chief Inspector Japp?' An officer of your eminencemis he usually called in to a case of suicide?" "As a matter of fact, I happened to be near by at the time. At Lavenham'stin Wigmore Street. Rather an ingenious system of frauds they've 'had there. They telephoned me there to come on here." "But why did they telephone you?" "Oh, thatmthat's simple enough. Alistair Blunt. As soon as the Divisional InsPector heard he'd been here this morning, he got on to the Yard. Mr. Blunt is the kind of person we take care of in this country." ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE 33 "You mean that there are people who would like him--out of the way?" "You bet there are. The Reds, to begin with--and our Blackshirted friends, too. It's Blunt and his group who are standing solid behind the present Government. Good sound conservative finance. That's why, if there were the least chance that there was any funny stuff intended against him this morning, they wanted a thorough investigation." Poirot nodded. "That is what I moreor less guessed. And that is the feeling I have--" he waved his hands expressively--"that there was, perhaps--a hitch of some kind. The proper victim was--should have been--Alistair Blunt. Or is this only a beginning--the beginning of a campaign of some kind? I smell--I smell--" he sniffed the air--"big money in this business!'' Japp said: "You're assuming a lot, you know." "I am suggesting that cepauvre Morley was only a pawn in the game. Perhaps he knew something--per-haps he told Blunt something--or they feared he would tell Blunt something--" He stopped as Gladys Nevill reentered the room. "Mr. Reilly is busy on an extraction case," she said. "He will be free in about ten minutes if that will be all right?" Japp said that it would. In the meantime, he said, he would have another talk with the boy Alfred. 34 Agatha Christie V Alfred was divided between nervousness, enjoyment, and a morbid fear of being blamed for everything that had occurred! He had only been a fortnight in Mr. Morley's employ, and during that fortnight he had consistently and unvaryingly done everything wrong. Persistent blame had sapped his self