Published by arrangement with
William Collins Sons & Co. Ltd.

Poirot's Early Cases , Agatha Christie Ltd. 1974
Pattern of Fate © Agatha Christie Ltd. 1973
Illustrations Edito-Service S.A., Geneva 1979; 1978

Original Illustrations by
REYNARD SCHMID &
PIERRE MONNERA T

Published & Distributed b.v
Omniprose Ltd.
94 Crockford Blvd.
Scarborough, Ontario
MIR 3C5

Printed in Canada
by John Deyell Company

ISBN O921111118(sT)
ISBN 0921111142



13097 012


Poirot's Early Cases


Published by arrangement with
William Collins Sons & Co. Ltd.

Poirot's Early Cases , Agatha Christie Ltd. 1974
Postern of Fate © Agatha Christie Ltd. 1973
Illustrations Edito-Service S.A., Geneva 1979; 1978

Original Illustrations by
REYNARD SCHMID &
PIERRE MONNERA T

Published & Distributed b.v
Omniprose Ltd.
94 Crock ford Blvd.
Scarborough, Ontario
MIR 3C5

Printed in Q'anada
by John Deyell Company

ISBN 0921111118(s£r) ISBN 0921111142



13 097012


Poirot's Early Cases


I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII


CONTENTS

The Affair at the Victory Ball
The Adventure of the Clapham Cook
The Cornish Mystery
The Adventure of Johnnie Waverly
The Double Clue
The King of Clubs
The Lemesurier Inheritance
The Lost Mine
The Plymouth Express
The Chocolate Box
The Submarine Plans
The Third-Floor Flat
Do0ble Sin
The Market Basing Mystery
Wasps' Nest
The Veiled Lady
Problem at Sea
How Does Your Garden Grow?


CHAPTER I


THE AFFAIR AT THE VICTORY BALL


Pure chance led my friend Hercule Poirot, formerly chief of the
Belgian force, to be connected with the Styles Case. His success
brought him notoriety, and he decided to devote himself to the
solving of problems in crime. Having been wounded on the
Somme and invalided out of the Army, I finally took up my
quarters with him in London. Since I have a first-hand knowledge
of most of his cases, it has been suggested to me that I select some
of the most interesting and place them on record. In doing so, I
feel that I cannot do better than begin with that strange tangle
which aroused such widespread public interest at the time. I refer
to the affair at the Victory Ball.

Although perhaps it is not so fully demonstrative of Poirot's
peculiar methods as some of the more obscure cases, its sensational
features, the well-known people involved, and the tremendous
publicity given it by the Press, make it stand out as a cause cdldbre
and I have long felt that it is only fitting that Poirot's connection
with the solution should be given to the world.

It was a fine morning in spring, and we were sitting in Poirot's
rooms. My little friend, neat and dapper as ever, his egg-shaped
head tilted slightly on one side, was delicately applying a new
pomade to his moustache. A certain harmless vanity was a
characteristic of Poirot's and fell into line with his general love of
order and method. The Daily Newsmonger, which I had been
reading, had slipped to the floor, and I was deep in a brown study
when Poirot's voice recalled me.

'Of what are you thinking so deeply, mon ami?'

'To tell you the truth,' I replied, 'I was puzzling over this
unaccountable affair at the Victory Ball. The papers are full of it.'
I tapped the sheet with my finger as I spoke.


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'Yes?'
'The more one reads of it, the more shrouded in mystery the
whole thing becomesl' I warmed to my subject. 'Who killed Lord
Cronshaw? Was Coco Courtenay's death on the same night a mere
coincidence? Was it an accident? Or did she deliberately take an
overdose of cocaine?' I stopped, and then added dramatically:
'These are the questions I ask myself.'
Poirot, somewhat to my annoyance, did not play up. He was
peering into the glass, and merely murmured: 'Decidedly, this
new pomade, it is a marvel for the moustaches!' Catching my eye,
however, he added hastily: 'Quite so--and how do you reply to
your questions?'
But before I could answer, the door opened, and our landlady
announced Inspector Japp.
The Scotland Yard man was an old friend of ours and we
greeted him warmly.
'Ah, my good Japp,' cried Poirot, 'and what brings you to
see us?'
'Well, Monsieur Poirot,' said Japp, seating himself and nodding
to me, 'I'm on a case that strikes me as being very much in your
line, and I came along to know whether you'd care to have a
finger in the pie?'
Poirot had a good opinion of Japp's abilities, though deploring
his lamentable lack of method; but I, for my part, considered
that the detective's highest talent lay in the gentle art of seeking
favours under the guise of conferring them!
'It's this Victory Ball,' said Japp persuasively. 'Come, now,
you'd like to have a hand in that.'
Poirot smiled at me.
'My friend Hastings would, at all events. He was just holding
forth on the subject, n' est-ce pas, tnon ami?'
'Well, sir,' said Japp condescendingly, 'you shall be in it too.
I can tell you, it's something of a feather in your cap to have inside
knowledge of a case like this. Well, here's to business. You know
the main facts of the case, I suppose, Monsieur Poirot?'
'From the papers only--and the imagination of the journalist is
sometimes misleading. Recount the whole story to' me.'


		Ci!
		POIROT'S EARLY CASES

	Japp cross
		legs comfortably and began..
'As all the and his wife knows, on Tuesday last a grand
„ictory Ball was, held. Every twopenny-halfpenny hop calls itself
that nowadays, but this was the real thing, held at the Colossus
tta!l, and all London at it--including young Lord Cronshaw and
his party.'
'His dossier?' interrupted Poirot. 'I should say his bioscope no,
how do you call it - biograph?'
'Viscount Cronshaw was the fifth viscount, twenty-five years
of age, rich, unmarried, and very fond of the theatrical world.
There were rumours of his being engaged to Miss Courtenay of
the Albany Theatre, who was known to her friends as "Coco" and
xho was, by all accounts, a very fascinating young lady.'
'Good. Continue!'
'Lord Cronshaw.'s party consisted of six people: he himself, his
uncle, the Honourable Eustace Beltane, a pretty American widow,
Mrs Mallaby, a young actor, Chris Davidson, his wife, and last
but not least, Mis Coco Courtenay. It was a fancy-dress ball,
as you know, and the Cronshaw party represented the old Italian
Comedy - whatever that may be.'
'The Con, media dell' .4rte,' murmured Poirot. 'I know.'
'Anyway, the costumes were copied from a set of china figures
forming part of Eustace Beltane's collection. Lord Cronshaw was
Harlequin; Beltane was Punchinello; Mrs Mallaby matched him
as Pulcinella; the IDavidsons were Pierrot and Pierrette; and Miss
Courtenay, of course, was Columbine. Now, quite early in the
evening it was apparent that there was something wrong. Lord
Cronshaw was moody and strange in his manner. When the party
met together for supper in a small private room engaged by the
host, everyone noticed that he and Miss Courtenay were no
longer on speaking-terms. She had obviously been crying, and
seemed on the verge of hysterics. The meal was an uncomfortable
one, and as they all left the supper-room, she turned to Chris
Davidson and requested him audibly to take her home, as she
was "sick of the ball". The young actor hesitated, glancing at
Lord Cronshaw, and finally drew them both back to the supper-room.


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'But all his efforts to secure a reconciliation were unavailing,
and he accordingly got a taxi and escorted the now weeping Miss
Courtenay back to her flat. Although obviously very much upset,
she did not confide in him, merely reiterating again and again that
she would "make old Cronch sorry for this?' That is the only hint
we have that her death might not have been accidental, and it's
precious little to go upon. By the time Davidson had quieted her
down somewhat, it was too late to return to the Colossus Hall,
and Davidson accordingly went straight home to his flat in Chelsea,
where his wife arrived shortly afterwards, bearing the news of the
terrible tragedy that had occurred after his departure.
'Lord Cronshaw, it seems, became more and more moody as
the ball went on. He kept away from his party, and they hardly
saw him during the rest of the evening. It was about one-thirty
a.m., just before the grand cotillion when everyone was to
unmask, that Captain Digby, a brother officer who knew
his disguise, noticed him standing in a box gazing down on the
scene.
'"Hullo, Cronchl" he called. "Come down and be sociablel
What are you moping about up there for like a boiled owl? Come
along; there's a good old rag coming on now."
'"Right?' responded Cronshaw. "Wait for me, or I'll never
find you in the crowd."
'He turned and left the box as he spoke. Captain Digby, who
had Mrs Davidson with him, waited. The minutes passed, but
Lord Cronshaw did not appear. Finally Digby grew impatient.
' "Does the fellow think we're going to wait all night for him?"
he exclaimed.
'At that moment Mrs Mallaby joined them, and they explained
the situation.
'"Say, now," cried the pretty widow vivaciously, "he's like a
bear with a sore head tonight. Let's go right away and rout
him out."
'The search commenced, but met with no success until it
occurred to Mrs Mallaby that he might possibly be found in the
room where they had supped an hour earlier. They made their

4


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


way there. What a sight met their eyes! There was Harlequin,
sure enough, but stretched on the ground with a table-knife in his
heart!'

Japp stopped, and Poirot nodded, and said with the relish of
the specialist: 'Une belle affaire! And there was no clue as to the
perpetrator of the deed? But how should there be!'

'Well,' continued the inspector, 'you know the rest. The tragedy
was a double one. Next day there were headlines in all the papers,
and a brief statement to the effect that Miss Courtenay, the
popular actress, had been discovered dead in her bed, and that
her death was due to an overdose of cocaine. Now, was it accident
or suicide? Her maid, who was called upon to give evidence,
admitted that Miss Courtenay was a confirmed taker of the drug,
and a verdict of accidental death was returned. Nevertheless we
can't leave the possibility of suicide out of account. Her death
is particularly unfortunate, since it leaves us no clue now to
the cause of the quarrel the preceding night. By the way, a
small enamel box was found on the dead man. It had Coco
written across it in diamonds, and was half full of cocaine. It was
identified by Miss Courtenay's maid as belonging to her mis-tress,
who nearly always carried it about with her, since it con-tained
her supply of the drug to which she was fast becoming a
slave.'

'Was Lord Cronshaw himself addicted to the drug?'

'Very far from it. He held unusually strong views on the subject
of dope.'

Poirot nodded thoughtfully.

'But since the box was in his possession, he knew that Miss

Courtenay took it. Suggestive, that, is it not, my good Japp?'
'Ah!' said Japp rather vaguely.
I smiled.

'Well,' said Japp, 'that's the case. What do you think of it?'
'You found no clue of any kind that has not been reported?'
'Yes, there was this.' Japp took a small object from his pocket
and handed it over to Poirot. It was a small pompon of emerald
green silk, with some ragged threads hanging from it, as though
it had been wrenched violently away.


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'We found it in the dead man's hand, which was tightly clenched
over it,' explained the inspector.

Poirot handed it back without any comment and asked: 'Had
Lord Cronshaw any enemies?'

'None that anyone knows of. He seemed a popular young
fellow.'

'Who benefits by his death?'

'His uncle, the Honourable Eustace Beltane, comes into the
title and estates. There are one or two suspicious facts against him.
Several people declare that they heard a violent altercation going
on in the little supper-room, and that Eustace Beltane was one of
the disputants. You see, the table-knife being snatched up off the
table would fit in with the murder being done in the heat of a
quarrel.'

'What does Mr Beltane say about the matter?'

'Declares one of the waiters was the worse for liquor, and that
he was giving him a dressing down. Also that it was nearer to one
than half past. You see, Captain Digby's evidence fixes the time
pretty accurately. Only about ten minutes elapsed between his
speaking to Cronshaw and the finding of the body.'

'And in any case I suppose Mr Beltane, as Punchinello, was
wearing a hump and a ruffle?'

'I don't know the exact details of the costumes,' said Jap. p,
looking curiously at Poirot. 'And anyway, I don't quite see what
that has got to do with it?'

'No?' There was a hint of mockery in Poirot's smile. He con-tinued
quietly, his eyes shining with the green light I had learned
to recognize so well: 'There was a curtain in this little supper
room,
was there not?'

'Yes, but - '

'With a space behind it sufficient to conceal a man?'

'Yes - in fact, there's a small recess, but how you knew
about it - you haven't been to the place, have you, Monsieur
Poirot?'

'No, my good Japp, I supplied the curtain from my brain.
Without it, the drama is not reasonable. And always one must be
reasonable. But tell me, did they not send for a doctor?'


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'At once, of course. But there was nothing to be done. Death
must have been instantaneous.'
Poirot nodded rather impatiently.
'Yes, yes, I understand. This doctor, now, he gave evidence at
the inquest?'
'Yes.'
'Did he say nothing of any unusual symptom - was there
nothing about the appearance of the body which struck him as
being abnormal?'
Japp stared hard at the little man.
'Yes, Monsieur Poirot. I don't know what you're getting at,
but he did mention that there was a tension and stiffness about
the limbs which he was quite at a loss to account for.'
'Aha!' said Poirot. 'Aha[ Mon Dieul Japp, that gives one to
think, does it not?'
I saw that it had certainly not given Japp to think.
'If you're thinking of poison, monsieur, who on earth would
poison a man first and then stick a knife into him?'
'In truth that would be ridiculous,' agreed Poirot placidly.
'Now is there anything you want to see, monsieur? If you'd like
to examine the room where the body was found - '
Poirot waved his hand.
'Not in the least. You have told me the only thing that interests
me - Lord Cronshaw's views on the subject of drug-taking.'
'Then there's nothing you want to see?'
'Just one thing.'
'What is that?'
'The set of china figures from which the costumes were
copied.'
Japp stared.
'Well, you're a funny one!'
'You can manage that for me?'
'Come round to Berkely Square now if you like. Mr Beltane or
His Lordship, as I should say now - won't object.'

We set off at once in a taxi. The new Lord Cronshaw was not at
home, but at Japp's request we were shown into the 'china room',


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

where the gems of the collection were kept. Japp looked round
him rather helplessly.
'I don't see how you'll ever find the ones you want, monsieur.'
But Poirot had already drawn a chair in front of the mantelpiece
and was hopping up upon it like a nimble robin. Above the mirror,
on a small shelf to themselves, stood six china figures. Poirot
examined them minutely, making a few comments to us as he
did so.
'Les voildl The old Italian Comedy. Three pairsl Harlequin
and Columbine, Pierrot and Pierrette - very dainty in white and
green - and Punchinello and Pulcinella in mauve and yellow.
Very elaborate, the costume of Punchinello - ruffles and frills, a
hump, a high hat. Yes, as I thought, very elaborate.'
He replaced the figures carefully, and jumped down.
Japp looked unsatisfied, but as Poirot had clearly no intention
of explaining anything, the detective put the best face he could
upon the matter. As we were preparing to leave, the master of the
house came in, and Japp performed the necessary introductions.
The sixth Viscount Cronshaw was a man of about fifty, suave
in manner, with a handsome, dissolute face. Evidently an elderly roll , with the languid manner of a poseur. I took an instant dislike
to him. He greeted us graciously enough, declaring he had heard
great accounts of Poirot's skill, and placing himself at our disposal
in every way.
'The police are doing all they can, I know,' Poirot said.
'But I much fear the mystery of my nephew's death will never
be cleared up. The whole thing seems utterly mysterious.'
Poirot was watching him keenly. 'Your nephew had no enemies
that you know of?'
'None whatever. I am sure of that.' He paused;and then went
on: 'If there are any questions you would like to ask - '
'Only one.' Poirot's voice was serious. 'The costumes - they
were reproduced exactly from your figurines?'
'To the smallest detail.'
'Thank you, milor'. That is all I wanted to be sure of. I wish
you good day.'


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'And whm next?' inquired Japp as we hurried down the street.
'I've got to report at the Yard, you know.'
'Bienl I will not detain you. I have one other little matter to
attend to, and then - '
'Yes?'
'The case will be complete.'
'What? You don't mean it! You know who killed Lord Cron-8haw?'
'Parfaitement.'
'Who was it? Eustace Beltane?'
'Ah, mon ami, you know my little weaknessl Always I have a
desire to keep the threads in my own hands up to the last minute.
But have no fear. I will reveal all when the time comes. I want no
credit - the affair shall be yours, on the condition that you permit
me to play out the dgnouernent my own way.'
'That's fair enough,' said Japp. 'That is, if the dgnouement ever
comesl But I say, you are an oyster, aren't you?' Poirot smiled.
'Well, so long. I'm off to the Yard.'
He strode off down the street, and Poirot hailed a pasing taxi.
'Where are we going now?' I asked in lively curiosity.
'To Chelsea to see the Davidsons.'
He gave the address to the driver.
'What do you think of the new Lord Cronshaw?' I asked.
'What says my good friend Hastings?'
'I distrust him instinctively.'
'You think he is the "wicked uncle" of the story-books, eh?'
'Don't you?'
The, I think he was most amiable towards us,' said Poirot
noncommittally.
'Because he had his reasonsl'
Poirot looked at me, shook his head sadly, and murmured
something that sounded like: 'No method.'

The Davidsons lived on the third floor of a block of 'mansion' flats . Mr Davidson was out, we vcere told, but Mrs Davidson was
at home. We were ushered into a long, low room with garish
Oriental hangings. The air felt close and oppressive, and there


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


was an overpowering fragrance of joss-sticks. Mrs Davidson came
to us almost immediately, a small, fair creature whose fragility
would have seemed pathetic and appealing had it not been
for the rather shrewd and calculating gleam in her light blue
eyes.

Poirot explained our connection with the case, and she shook
her head sadly.

'Poor Cronch - and poor Coco too We were both so fond of
her, and her death has been a terrible grief to us. What is it you
want to ask me? Must I really go over all that dreadful evening
again?'

'Oh, madame, believe me, I would not harass your feelings
unnecessarily. Indeed, Inspector Japp has told me all that is
needful. I only wish to see the costume you wore at the ball that
night.'

The lady looked somewhat surprised, and Poirot continued
smoothly: 'You comprehend, madame, that I work on the system
of my country. There we always "reconstruct" the crime. It is
possible that I may have an actual reprdsentatbn, and if so, you

understand, the costumes would be important.'

Mrs Davidson still looked a bit doubtful.

'I've heard of reconstructing a crime, of course,' she said. 'But
,I didn't know you were so particular about details. But I'll fetch
the dress now.'

She left the room and returned almost immediately with a dainty
wisp of white satin and green. Poirot took it from her and examined
it, handing it back with a bow.

'Merci, madameI see you have had the misfortune to lose one
of your green pompons, the one on the shoulder here.'

'Yes, it got torn off at the ball. I picked it up and gave it to poor

Lord Cronshaw to keep for me.'
'That was after supper?'
'Yes.'

'Not long before the tragedy, perhaps?'

A faint look of alarm came into Mrs Davidson's pale eyes, and
she replied quickly: 'Oh no - long before that. Quite soon after
supper, in fact.'


10


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'I see. Well, that is all. I will not derange you further. Bonjour, ttladame.'
'Well,' I said, as we emerged from the building, 'that explains
the mystery of the green pompon.'
'I wonder.'
'Why, what do you mean?'
'You saw me examine the dress, Hastings?'
'Yes?'
'Eh bien, the pompon that was missing had not been wrenched
off, as the lady said. On the contrary, it had been cut off, my
friend, cut off with scissors. The threads were all quite even.'
'Dear reel' I exclaimed. 'This becomes more and more involved.'
'On the contrary,' replied Poirot placidly, 'it becomes more
and more simple.'
'Poirot,' I cried, 'one day I shall murder you! Your habit of
finding everything perfectly simple is aggravating to the last
degree!'
'But when I explain, rnon ami, is it not always perfectly simple?'
'Yes; that is the annoying part of it! I feel then that I could
have done it myself.'
'And so you could, Hastings, so you could. If you would but
take the trouble of arranging your ideas! Without method - '
'Yes, yes,' I said hastily, for I knew Poirot's eloquence when
started on his favourite theme only too well. 'Tell me, what do
we do next? Are you really going to reconstruct the crime?'
'Hardly that. Shall we say that the drama is over, but that I
propose to add a - harlequinade?'

The following Tuesday was fixed upon by Poirot as the day for
this mysterious performance. The preparations greatly intrigued
me. A white screen was erected at one side of the room, flanked by
heavy curtains at either side. A man with some lighting apparatus
arrived next, and finally a group of members of the theatrical
profession, who disappeared into Poirot's bedroom, which had
been rigged up as a temporary dressing-room.
Shortly before eight, Japp arrived, in no very cheerful mood. I
gathered that the official detective hardly approved of Poirot's plan.

11


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'Bit melodramatic, like all his ideas. But there, it can do no
harm, and as he says, it might save us a good bit of trouble. He'a
been very smart over the case. I was on the same scent myself, of
course - ' I felt instinctively that Japp was straining the truth
here - 'but there, I promised to let him play the thing out his
own way. Ahl Here is the crowd.'

His Lordship arrived first, escorting Mrs Mallaby, whom I had
not as yet seen. She was a pretty, dark-haired woman, and appeared
perceptibly nervous. The Davidsons followed. Chris Davidson
also I saw for the first time. He was handsome enough in a
rather obvious style, tall and dark, with the easy grace of the
actor.

Poirot had arranged seats for the party facing the screen. This
was illuminated by a bright light. Poirot switched out the other
lights so that the room was in darkness except for the screen.
Poirot's voice rose out of the gloom.

'Messieurs, mesdames, a word of explanation. Six figures in
turn will pass across the screen. They are familiar to you. Pierrot
and his Pierrette; Punchinello the buffoon, and elegant Pulcinella;
beautiful Columbine, lightly dancing, Harlequin, the sprite,
invisible to manl'

With these words of introduction, the show began. In turn each
figure that Poirot had mentioned bounded before the screen,
stayed there a moment poised, and then vanished. The lights
went up, and a sigh of relief went round. Everyone had been
nervous, fearing they knew not what. It seemed to me that the
proceedings had gone singularly flat. If the criminal was among
us, and Poirot expected him to break down at the mere sight of a
familiar figure, the device had failed signally - as it was almost
bound to do. Poirot, however, appeared not a whit discomposed.
He stepped forward, beaming.

'Now, messieurs and mesdames, will you be so good as to tell
me, one at a time what it is that we have just seen? Will you
begin, milor'?'

The gentleman looked rather puzzled. 'I'm afraid I don't quite
understand.'

'Just tell me what we have been seeing.'


12


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'I - er - well, I should say we have seen six figures passing in
front of a screen and dressed to represent the personages in the
old Italian Comedy, or - er - ourselves the other night.'

'Never mind the other night, milor',' broke in Poirot. 'The first
part of your speech was what I wanted. Madame you agree with
Milor' Cronshaw?;

He had turned as he spoke to Mrs Mallaby.

'I - er - yes, of course.'

'You agree that you have seen six figures representing the
Italian Comedy?'

'Why, certainly.'

'Monsieur Davidson? You too?'
'Yes.'
'Madame?'
'Yes.'

'Hastings? Japp? Yes? You are all in accord?'

He looked around upon us; his face grew rather pale, and his
eyes were green as any cat's.

'And yet - you are all wrong/Your eyes have lied to you - as
they lied to you on the night of the Victory Ball. To "see things
with your own eyes", as they say, is not always to see the truth.
One must see with eyes of the mind; one must employ the little
cells of grey! Know, then, that tonight and on the night of the
Victory Ball, you saw not six figures but five! Seel'

The lights went out again. A figure bounded in front of the
screen - Pierrotl

'Who is that?' demanded Poirot. 'Is it Pierrot?'
'Yes,' we all cried.
'Look again['

With a swift movement the man divested himself of his loose
Pierrot garb. There in the limelight stood glittering Harlequinl
At the same moment there was a cry and an overturned
chair.

'Curse you,' snarled Davidson's voice. 'Curse youl How did
you gue?'

When came the clink of handcuffs and Japp's calm official voice.
'I arrest you, Christopher Davidson - charge of murdering


13


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

Viscount Cronshaw - anything you say used in evidence against
you.'

It was a quarter of an hour later. A recherch little supper had
appeared; and Poirot, beaming all over his face, was dispensing
hospitality and answering our eager questions.
'It was all very simple. The circumstances in which the green
pompon was found suggested at once that it had been torn from
the costume of the murderer. I dismissed Pierrette from my mind
(since it takes considerable strength to drive a table-knife home)
and fixed upon Pierrot as the criminal. But Pierrot left the ball
nearly two hours before the murder was committed. So he must
either have returned to the ball later to kill Lord Cronshaw, or eh bien, he must have killed him before he left! Wras that impossible?
Who had seen Lord Cronshaw after supper that evening? Only
Mrs Davidson, whose statement, I suspected, was a deliberate
fabrication uttered with the object of accounting for the missing
pompon, which, of course, she cut from her own dress to replace
the one missing on her husband's costume. But then, Harlequin,
who was seen in the box at one-thirty, must have been an impersonation.
For a moment, earlier, I had considered the possibility
of Mr Beltane being the guilty party. But with his elaborate
costume, it was clearly impossible that he could have doubled the
roles of Punchinello and Harlequin. On the other hand, to David-son,
a young man of about the same height as the murdered man
and an actor by profession, the thing was simplicity itself.
'But one thing worried me. Surely a doctor could not fail to
perceive the difference between a man who had been dead two
hours and one who had been dead ten minutes! Eh &n, the doctor did perceive it! But he was not taken to the body and asked
"How long has this man been dead?" On the contrary, he was
informed that the man had been seen alive ten minutes ago, and
so he merely commented at the inquest on the abnormal stiffening
of the limbs for which he was quite unable to accountl
'All was now marching famously for my theory. Davidson had
killed Lord Cronshaw immediately after supper, when., as you
remember, he was seen to draw him back into the supper-room.

14


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


Then he departed with Miss Courtenay, left her at the door of
her flat (instead of going in and trying to pacify her as he affirmed)
and returned post-haste to the Colossus - but as Harlequin, not
Pierrot - a simple transformation effected by removing his outer

costume.'


The uncle of the dead man leaned forward, his eyes perplexed.

'But if so, he must have come to the ball prepared to kill his
victim. What earthly motive could he have had? The motive,
that's what I can't get.'

'Ah! There we come to the second tragedy - that of Miss
Courtenay. There was one simple point which everyone over-looked.
Miss Courtenay died of cocaine poisoning - but her supply
of the drug was in the enamel box which was found on Lord
Cronshaw's body. Where, then, did she obtain the dose which
killed her? Only one person could have supplied her with it -Davidson.
And that explains everything. It accounts for her
friendship with the Davidsons and her demand that Davidson
should escort her home. Lord Cronshaw, who was almost fanatic-ally
opposed to drug-taking, discovered that she was addicted to
cocaine, and suspected that Davidson supplied her with it.
Davidson doubtless denied this, but Lord Cronshaw determined
to get the truth from Miss Courtenay at the ball. He could forgive
the wretched girl, but he would certainly have no mercy on the
man who made a living by trafficking in drugs. Exposure and ruin
confronted Davidson. He went to the ball determined that

Cronshaw's silence must be obtained at any cost.'

'Was Coco's death an accident, then?'

'I suspect that it was an accident cleverly engineered by
Davidson. She was furiously angry with Cronshaw, first for his
reproaches, and secondly for taking her cocaine from her. Davidson
supplied her with more, and probably suggested her augmenting
the dose as a defiance to "old Cronch'T

'One other thing,' I said. 'The recess and the curtain? How did
you know about them?'

'Why, rnon ami, that was the most simple of all. Waiters had
been in and out of that little room, so, obviously, the body could


15


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


not have been lying where it was found on the floor. There must
be some place in the room where it could be hidden. I deduced a
curtain and a recess behind it. Davidson dragged the body there,
and later, after drawing attention to himself in the box, he dragged
it out again before finally leaving the Hall. It was one of his best
moves. He is a clever fellow?

But in Poirot's green eyes I read unmistakably the unspoken
remark: 'But not quite so clever as Hercule Poirotl'


16


I



CHAPTER II

THE ADVENTURE OF THE CLAPHAM COOK

At the time that I was sharing rooms with my friend Hercule
Poirot, it was my custom to read aloud to him the headlines in the
morning newspaper, the Daily Blare.
The Daily Blare was a paper that made the most of any opportunity
for sensationalism. Robberies and murders did not lurk
obscurely in its back pages. Instead they hit you in the eye in
large type on the front page.

ABSCONDING BANK CLERK DISAPPEARS WITH FI17TY THOUSAND
POUNDS' WORTH OF NEGOTIABLE SECURITIES, I read.
HUSBAND PUTS HIS HEAD IN GAS-OVEN. UNHAPPY HOME LI17.
MISSING TYPIST. PRETTY OIRL O17 TWENTY-ONE. WHEI IS EDNA
FIELD?

'There you are, Poirot, plenty to choose from. An absconding
bank clerk, a mysterious suicide, a missing typist - which will you
have?'
My friend was in a placid mood. He quietly shook his head.
'I am not greatly attracted to any of them, mon ant/. Today I
feel inclined for the life of ease. It would have to be a very interesting
problem to tempt me from my chair. See you, I have affairs
of importance of my own to attend to.'
'Such as?'
'My wardrobe, Hastings. If I mistake not, there is on my new
grey suit the spot of grease- only the unique spot, but it is sufficient
to trouble me. Then there is my winter overcoat - I must lay him
aside in the powder of Keatings. And I think - yes, I think - the
moment is ripe for the trimmings of my moustaches - and afterwards
I must apply the pomade.'
'Well,' I said, strolling to the window, 'I doubt if you'll be able

17


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


to carry out this delirious programme. That was a ring at the bell.
You have a client.'

'Unless the affair is one of national importance, I touch it not,'
declared Poirot with dignity.

A moment later our privacy was invaded by a stout red-faced

lady who panted audibly as a result of her rapid ascent of the stairs.
'You're M. Poirot?' she demanded, as she sank into a chair.
'I am Hercule Poirot, yes, madame.'

'You're not a bit like what I thought you'd be,' said the lady,
eyeing him with some disfavour. 'Did you pay for the bit in the
paper saying what a clever detective you were, or did they put it
in themselves?'

'Madamel' said Poirot, drawing himself up.

'I'm sorry, I'm sure, but you know what these papers are
nowadays. You begin reading a nice article "What a bride said to
her plain unmarried friend", and it's all about a simple thing you
buy at the chemist's and shampoo your hair with. Nothing but
puff. But no offence taken, I hope? I'll tell you what I want you
to do for me. I want you to find my cook.'

Poirot stared at her; for once his ready tongue failed him. I
turned aside to hide the broadening smile I could not control.

'It's all this wicked dole,' continued the lady. 'Putting ideas
into servants' heads, wanting to be typists and what nots. Stop the
dole, that's what I say. I'd like to know what my servants have to
complain of - afternoon and evening off a week, alternate Sundays,
washing put out, same food as we have - and never a bit of
margarine in the house, nothing but the very best butter.'

She paused for want of breath and Poirot seized his opportunity.
He spoke in his haughtiest manner rising to his feet as he did so.

'I fear you are making a mistake, madame. I am not holding an
inquiry into the conditions of domestic service. I am a private
detective.'

'I know that,' said our visitor. 'Didn't I tell you I wanted you
to find my cook for me? Walked out of the house on Wednesday,
without so much as a word to me, and never came back.'

'I am sorry, madame, but I do not touch'this particular kind of
business. I wish you good morning.'


18


l


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


Our visitor snorted with indignation.

'That's it, is it, my fine fellow? Too proud, eh? Only deal with
Government secrets and countesses' jewels? Let me tell you a
servant's every bit as important as a tiara to a woman in my
position. We can't all be fine ladies going out in our motors with
our diamonds and our pearls. A good cook's a good cook - and
when you lose her, it's as much to you as her pearls are to some
fine lady.'

For a moment or two it appeared to be a toss up between
Poirot's dignity and his sense of humour. Finally he laughed and
sat down again.

'Madame, you are in the right, and I am in the wrong. Your
remarks are just and intelligent. This case will be a novelty. Never
yet have I hunted a missing domestic. Truly here is the problem
of national importance that I was demanding of fate just before
your arrival. En avant! You say this jewel of a cook went out on

Wednesday and did not return. That is the day before yesterday.'
'Yes, it was her day out.'

'But probably, madame, she has met with some accident. Have
you inquired at any of the hospitals?'

'That's exactly what I thought yesterday, but this morning, if
you please, she sent for her box. And not so much as a line to mel
If I'd been at home, I'd not have let it go - treating me like thatl

But I'd just stepped out to the butcher.'

'Will you describe her to me?'

'She was middle-aged, stout, black hair turning grey - most
respectable. She'd been ten years in her last place. Eliza Dunn,
her name was.'

'And you had had - no disagreement with her on the Wednes-day?'

'None whatever. That's what makes it all so queer.'

'How many servants do you keep, madame?'

'Two. The house-parlourmaid, Annie, is a very nice girl. A bit
forgetful and her head full of young men, but a good servant if
you keep her up to her work.'

'Did she and the cook get on well together?'


19


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'They had their ups and downs, of course - but on the whole,
very well.'

'And the girl can throw no light on the mystery?'

'She says not - but you know what servants are - they all hang
together.'

'Well, well, we must look into this. Where did you say you
resided, madame?'

'At Clapham; 88 Prince Albert Road.'

'Bien, madame,, I will wish you good morning, and you may
count upon seeing me at your residence during the course of the
day.'

Mrs Todd, for such was our new friend's name, then took her
departure. Poirot looked at me somewhat ruefully.

'Well, well, Hastings, this is a novel affair that we have here.
The Disappearance of the Clapham Cookl Never, never, must our
friend Inspector Japp get to hear of thisl'

He then proceeded to heat an iron and carefully removed the
grease spot from his grey suit by means of a piece of blotting-paper.
His moustaches he regretfully postponed to another day,
and we set out for Clapham.

Prince Albert Road proved to be a street of small prim houses,
all exactly alike, with neat lace curtains veiling the windows, and
well polished brass knockers on the doors.

We rang the bell at No. 88, and the door was opened by a neat
maid with a pretty face. Mrs Todd came out in the hall to greet us.

'Don't go, Annie,' she cried. 'This gentleman's a detective and
he'll want to ask you some questions.'

Annie's face displayed a struggle between alarm and a pleasur-able
excitement.

'I thank you, madame,' said Poirot bowing. 'I would like to
question your maid now - and to see her alone, if I may.'

We were shown into a small drawing-room, and when Mrs
Todd, with obvious reluctance, had left the room, Poirot com-menced
his cross-examination.

'Voyons, Mademoiselle Annie, all that you shall tell us will be
of the greatest importance. You alone can shed any light on the
case. Without your assistance I can do nothing.'


20


-POIROT'S EARLY CASES


The alarm vanished from the girl's face and the pleasurable
excitement became more strongly marked.

'I'm sure, sir,' she said, 'I'll tell you anything I can.'

'That is good.' Poirot beamed approval on her. 'Now, first of
all what is your own idea? You are a girl of remarkable intelligence.
That can be seen at oncel What is your own explanation of Eliza's
disappearance?'

Thus encouraged, Annie fairly flowed into excited speech.
'White slavers, sir, I've said so all along! Cook was alway
warning me against them. "Don't you sniff no scent, or eat any
sweets - no matter how gentlemanly the fellowl" Those were her
words to me. And now they've got herl I'm sure of it. As likely a
not, she's been shipped to Turkey or one of them Eastern place,
where I've heard they like them fat?

Poirot preserved an admirable gravity.

'But ia that case - and it is indeed an ideal - would she have
ent for her trunk?'

'Well, I don't know, sir. She'd want her things - even in thoe
foreign places.'

'Who came for the trunk - a man?'
'It was Carter Paterson, sir.'
'Did you pack it?'

'No, sir, it was already packed and corded.'

'Ahl That's interesting. That shows that when she left the hou
on Wednesday, she had already determined not to return. You
see that, do you not?'

'Yes, sir.' Annie looked slightly taken aback. 'I hadn't thought
of that. But it might still have been white slavers, mightn't it,
sir?' she added wistfully.

'Undoubtedlyl' said Poirot gravely. He went on: 'Did you both
occupy the same bedroom?'

'No, sir, we had separate rooms.'

'And had Eliza expressed any dissatisfaction with her present
post to you at all? Were you both happy here?'

'She'd never mentioned leaving. The place is all right - ' The
girl hesitated.

'Speak freely,' said Poirot kindly. 'I shall not tell your mistress.'


21


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'Well, of course, sir, she's a caution, Missus is. But the food's
good. Plenty of it, and no stinting. Something hot for supper,
good outings, and as much frying-fat as you like. And anyway, if
Eliza did want to make a change, she'd never have gone off
this way, I'm sure. She'd have stayed her month. Why, Missus

could have a month's wages out of her for doing this?

'And the work, it is not too hard?'

'Well, she's particular - always poking round in corners and
looking for dust. And then there's the lodger, or paying guest as
he's always called. But that's only breakfast and dinner, same as

Master. They're out all day in the City.'

'You like your master?'

'He's all right - very quiet and a bit on the stingy side.'

'You can't remember, I suppose, the last thing Eliza said before
she went out?'

'Yes, I can. "If there's any stewed peaches over from the
dining-room," she says, "we'll have them for supper, and a bit
of bacon and some fried potatoes." Mad over stewed peaches, she

was. I shouldn't wonder if they didn't get her that way.'

'Was Wednesday her regular day out?'

'Yes, she had Wednesdays and I had Thursdays.'

Poirot asked a few more questions, then declared himself
satisfied. Annie departed, and Mrs Todd hurried in, her face
alight with curiosity. She had, I felt certain, bitterly resented her
exclusion from the room during our conversation with Annie.
Poirot, however, was careful to soothe her feelings tactfully.

'It is difficult,' he explained, 'for a woman of exceptional
intelligence such as yourself, madame, to bear patiently the
roundabout methods we poor detectives are forced to use. To
have patience with stupidity is difficult for the quick-witted.'

Having thus charmed away any little resentment on Mrs Todd's
part, he brought the conversation round to her husband and
elicited the information that he worked with a firm in the City and
would not be home until after six.

'Doubtless he is very disturbed and worried by this unaccount-able
business, eh? Is it not so?'

'He's never worried,' declared Mrs Todd. '"Well, well, get


22


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

another, my dear." That's all he said! He's so calm that it drives
me to distraction sometimes. "An ungrateful woman," he said. "We are well rid of her."'
'What about the other inmates of the house, madame?'
'You mean Mr Simpson, our paying guest? Well, as long as
he gets his breakfast and his evening meal all right, he doesn't
worry. '
'What is. his profession, madame?'
'He works in a bank.' She mentioned its name, and I started
slightly, remembering my perusal of the Daily Blare.
'A young man?'
'Twenty-eight, I believe. Nice quiet young fellow.'
'I should like to have a few words with him, and also with your
husband, if I may. I will return for that purpose this evening. I
venture to suggest that you should repose yourself a little, madame,
you look fatigued.'
'I should just think I am! First the worry about Eliza, and then
I was at the sales practically all yesterday, and you know what that is, M. Poirot, and what with one thing and another and a lot to do
in the house, because of course Annie can't do it all - and very
likely she'll give notice anyway, being unsettled in this way well,
what with it all, I'm tired outl'
Poirot murmured sympathetically, and we took our leave.
'It's a curious coincidence,' I said, 'but that absconding clerk,
Davis, was from the same bank as Simpson. Can there be any
connection, do you think?'
Poirot smiled.
'At the one end, a defaulting clerk, at the other a vanishing
cook. It is hard to see any relation between the two, unless possibly
Davis visited Simpson, fell in love with the cook, and persuaded
her to accompany him on his flightl'
I laughed. But Poirot remained grave.
'He might have done worse,' he said reprovingly. 'Remember,
Hastings, if you are going into exile, a good cook may be of more
comfort than a pretty face!' He paused for a moment and then
went on. 'It is a curious case, full of contradictory features. I am

23


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


interested - yes, I am distinctly interested.'


That evening we returned to 88 Prince Albert Road and inter-viewed
both Todd and Simpson. The former was a melancholy
lantern-jawed man of forty-odd.

'Obi Yes, yes,' he said vaguely. 'Eliza. Yes. A good cook, I
believe. And economical. I make a strong point of economy.'

'Can you imagine any reason for her leaving you so suddenly?'
'Oh, well,' said Mr Todd vaguely. 'Servants, you know. My
wife worries too much. Worn out from always worrying. The whole
problem's quite simple really. "Get another, my dear," I say.
"Get another." That's all there is to it. No good crying over spilt
milk.'

Mr Simpson was equally unhelpful. He was a quiet incon-spicuous
young man with spectacles.

'I must have seen her, I suppose,' he said. 'Elderly woman,
wasn't she? Of course, it's the other one I see always, Annie.
Nice girl. Very obliging.'

'Were those two on good terms with each other?'

Mr Simpson said he couldn't say, he was sure. He supposed so.
'Well, we get nothing of interest there, rnon ami,' said Poirot as
we left the house. Our departure had been delayed by a burst of
vociferous repetition from Mrs Todd, who repeated everything
she had said that morning at rather greater length.

'Are you disappointed?' I asked. 'Did you expect to hear some-thing?'

Poirot shook his head.

'There was a possibility, of course,' he said. 'But I hardly
thought it likely.'

The next development was a letter which Poirot received on the
following morning. He read it, turned purple with indignation,
and handed it to me.

Mrs Todd regrets that after all she will not avail herself of
Mr Poirot's services. After talking the matter over with her
husband she sees that it is foolish to call in a detective about a
purely domestic affair. Mrs Todd encloses a guinea for con-sultation
fee.


24


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

I

'Ahal' cried Poirot angrily. 'And they think to get rid of Hercule
loirot like thatl As a favour - a great favour - I consent to investigate
their miserable little twopenny-halfpenny affair - and
they dismiss me comme fal Here, I mistake not, is the hand of
Mr Todd. But I say nol - thirty-six times nol I will spend my
own guineas, thirty-six hundred of them if need be, but I will get
to the bottom of this matter?
'Yes,' I said. 'But how?'
Poirot calmed down a little.
'D'abord,' he said, 'we will advertise in the papers. Let me see yes
- something like this: "If Eliza Dunn will communicate with
thia address, she will hear of something to her advantage." Put it
in all the papers you can think of, Hastings. Then I will make some
little inquiries of my own. Go, go - all must be done as quickly
as possible!'
I did not see him again until the evening, when he condescended
to tell me what he had been doing.
'I have made inquiries at the firm of Mr Todd. He was not
absent on ,Wednesday, and he bears a good character - so much
for him. Then Simpson, on Thursday he was ill and did not come
to the bank, but he was there on Wednesday. He was moderately
friendly with Davis. Nothing out of the common. There does not
eem to be anything there. No. We must place our reliance on the
advertisement.'
The advertisement duly appeared in all the principal daily
papers. By Poirot's orders it was to be continued every day for a
week. His eagerness over this uninteresting matter of a defaulting
cook was extraordinary, but I realized that he considered it a point
of honour to persevere until he finally succeeded. Several extremely
interesting cases were brought to him about this time, but he
declined them all. Every morning he would rush at his letters,
scrutinize them earnestly and then lay them down with a sigh.
But our patience was rewarded at last. On the Wednesday following
Mrs Todd's visit, our landlady informed us that a person of
the name of Eliza Dunn had called.
'Enfin!' cried Poirot. 'But make her mount thenl At once. Immediately.'

25


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


Thts admonished, our landlady hurried out and returned a
moment or two later, ushering in Miss Dunn. Our quarry was
much as described: tall, stout, and eminently respectable.

'I came in answer to the advertisement,' she eXPlained. 'I
thought there must be some muddle or other, and that perhaps
you didn't know I'd already got my legacy.'

Poirot was studying her attentively. He drew forward a chair
with a flourish.

'The truth of the matter is,' he explained, 'that your late
mistress, Mrs Todd, was much concerned about you. She feared
some accident might have befallen you.'

Eliza Dunn seemed very much surprised.

'Didn't she get my letter then?'

'She got no word of any kind.' He paused, and then said per-suasively:
'Recount to me the whole story, will you not?'

Eliza Dunn needed no encouragement. She plunged at once
into a lengthy narrative.

'I was just coming home on Wednesday night and had nearly
got to the house, when a gentleman stopped me. A tall gentleman
he was, with a beard and a big hat. "Miss Eliza Dunn?" he said.
"Yes," I said. "I've been inquiring for you at No. 88," he said.
"They told me I might meet you coming along here. Miss Dunn,
I have come from Australia specially to find you. Do you happen
to know the maiden name of your maternal grandmother?"
"Jane Emmott," I said. "Exactly," he said. "Now, Miss Dunn,
although you may never have heard of the fact, your grandmother
had a great friend, Eliza Leech. This friend went to Australia
where she married a very wealthy settler. Her two children died
in infancy, and she inherited all her husband's property. She died
a few months ago, and by her will you inherit a house in this
country and a considerable sum of money."

'You could have knocked me down with a feather,' continued
Miss Dunn. 'For a minute, I was suspicious, and he must have
seen it, for he smiled. "Quite right to be on your guard, Miss
Dunn," he said. "Here are my credentials." He handed me a
letter from some lawyers in Melbourne, Hurst and Crotchet, and
a card. He was Mr Crotchet. "There are one or two conditions,"


26


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

he said. "Our client was a little eccentric, you know. The bequest
is conditional on your taking possession of the house (it is in
Cumberland) before twelve o'clock tomorrow. The other condition
is of no importance - it is merely a stipulation that you
should not be in domestic service." My face fell. "Oh, Mr Crotchet,"
I said. "I'm a cook. Didn't they tell you at the house?" "Dear,
dear," he said. "I had no idea of such a thing. I thought you might
possibly be a companion or governess there. This is very unfortunate
- very unfortunate indeed."
' "Shall I have to lose all the money?" I said, anxious like. He
thought for a minute or two. "There are always ways of getting
round the law, Miss Dunn," he said at last. "We lawyers know
that. The way out here is for you to have left your employment
this afternoon." "But my month?" I said. "My dear Miss Dunn,"
he said with a smile. "You can leave an employer any minute by
forfeiting a month's wages. Your mistress will understand in view
of the circumstances. The difficulty is time! It is imperative that
you should catch the x .5 from King's Cross to the North. I can
advance you ten pounds or so for the fare, and you can write a
note at the station to your employer. I will take it to her myself
and explain the whole circumstances." I agreed, of course, and an
hour later I was in the train, so flustered that I didn't know whether
I was on my head or my heels. Indeed by the time I got to Carlisle,
I was half inclined to think the whole thing was one of those
confidence tricks you read about. But I went to the address he
had given me - solicitors they were, and it was all right. A nice
little house, and an income of three hundred a year. These lawyers
knew very little, they'd just got a letter from a gentleman in
London instructing them to hand over the house to me and x5o
for the first six months. Mr Crotchet sent up my things to me, but
there was no word from Missus. I supposed she was angry and
grudged me my bit of luck. She kept back my box too, and sent
my clothes in paper parcels. But there, of course if she never had
my letter, she might think it a bit cool of me.'
?oirot had listened attentively to this long history. Now he
nodded his head as though completely satisfied.
'Thank you, mademoiselle. There had been, as you say, a little

27


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

muddle. Permit me to recompense you for your trouble.' He handed
her an envelope. 'You return to Cumberland immediately? A little
word in your ear. Do not forget how to cook. It is always useful to
have something to fall back upon in case things go wrong.'
'Credulous,' he murmured, as our visitor departed, 'but perhal
not more than most of her class.' His face grew grave. 'Come,
Hastings, there is no time to be lost. Get a taxi while I write a
note to Japp.'
Poirot was waiting on the doorstep when I returned with the taxi.
'Where are we going?' I asked anxiously.
'First, to despatch this note by special messenger.'
This was done, and re-entering the taxi Poirot gave the addre
to the driver.
'Eighty-eight Prince Albert Road, Clapham.'
'So we are going there?'
'Mai, oui. Though frankly I fear we shall be too late. Our bird
will have flown, Hastings.'
'Who is our bird?'
Poirot smiled.
'The inconspicuous Mr Simpson.'
'What?' I exclaimed.
'Oh, come now, Hastings, do not tell me that all is not clear to
you now?
'The cook was got out of the way, I realize that,' I said, slightly
piqued. 'But why? Why should Simpson wish to get her out of the
house? Did she know something about him?'
'Nothing whatever.'
'Well, then '
'But he wanted something that she had.'
'Money? The Australian legacy?'
'No, my friend - something quite different.' He paused a
moment and then said gravely: 'q battered tin trunk...'
I looked sideways at him. His statement seemed so fantaatic
that I suspected him of pulling my leg, but he was perfectly grave
and serious.
'Surely he could buy a trunk if he wanted one,' I cried.

28


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'He did not want a new trunk. He wanted a trunk of pedigree.
A trunk of assured respectability.'

'Look here, Poirot,' I cried, 'this really is a bit thick. You're
pulling my leg.'

He looked at me.

'You lack the brains and the imagination of Mr Simpson,
Hastings. See here: On Wednesday evening, Simpson decoys
away the cook. A printed card and a printed sheet of notepaper
re simple matters to obtain, and he is willing to pay I5O and
a year's house rent to assure the success of his plan. Miss Dunn
does not recognize him - the beard and the hat and the slight
colonial accent completely deceive her. That is the end of Wed-nesday
- except for the trifling fact that Simpson has helped

himself to fifty thousand pounds' worth of negotiable securities.'
'Simpson - but it was Davis - '

'If you will kindly permit me to continue, Hastingsl Simpson
knows that the theft will be discovered on Thursday afternoon.
He does not go to the bank on Thursday, but he lies in wait for
Davis when he comes out to lunch. Perhaps he admits the theft
md tells Davis he will return the securities to him - anyhow he
succeeds in getting Davis to come to Clapham with him. It is the
maid's day out, and Mrs Todd was at the sales, so there is no one
in the house. When the theft is discovered and Davis is missing,
the implication will be overwhelming. Davis is the thiefl Mr
Simpson will be perfectly safe, and can return to work on the

morrow like the honest clerk they think him.'

'And Davis?'

Poirot made an expressive gesture, and slowly shook his head.
'It seems too cold-blooded to be believed, and yet what other
explanation can there be, rnon ami. The one difficulty for a
murderer is the disposal of the body - and Simpson had planned
that out beforehand. I was struck at once by the fact that although
Eliza Durra obviously meant to return that' night when she went

out (witness her remark about the stewed peaches)yet her trunk
oas all ready packed when they came for it. It was Simpson who

sent word to Carter Paterson to call on Friday and it was Simpson
who corded up the box on Thursday afternoon. What suspicion


29


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


could possibly arise? A maid leaves and sends for her box, it is
labelled and addressed ready in her name, probably to a railway
station within easy reach of London. On Saturday afternoon,
Simpson, in his Australian disguise, claims it, he affixes a new
label and address and redespatches it somewhere else, again "to
be left till called for". When the authorities get suspicious, for
excellent reasons, and open it, all that can be elicited will be that
a bearded colonial despatched it from some junction near London.
There will be nothing to connect it with 88 Prince Albert Road.
Ahl Here we are.'

Poirot's prognostications had been correct. Simpson had left
two days previously. But he was not to escape the consequences
of his crime. By the aid of wireless, he was discovered on the
Olympia, en route to America.

A tin trunk, addressed to Mr Henry Wintergreen, attracted the
attention of railway officials at Glasgow. It was opened and found
to contain the body of the unfortunate Davis.

Mrs Todd's cheque for a guinea was never cashed. Instead
Poirot had it framed and hung on the wall of our sitting-room.

'It is to me a little reminder, Hastings. Never to despise the
trivial - the undignified. A disappearing domestic at one end - a
cold-blooded murder at the other. To me, one of the most interest-ing
of my cases.'


30


CHAPTER III

THE CORNISH MYSTERY

'Mrs Pengelley,' announced our landlady, and withdrew discreetly.
Many unlikely people came to consult Poirot, but to my mind,
the woman who stood nervously just inside the door, fingering her
feather neck-piece, was the most unlikely of all. She was so
extraordinarily commonplace - a thin, faded woman of about
fifty, dressed in a braided coat and skirt, some gold jewellery at
her neck, and with her grey hair surmounted by a singularly
unbecoming hat. In a country town, you pass a hundred Mrs
Pengelleys in the street every day.
Poirot came forward and greeted her pleasantly, perceiving her
obvious embarrassment.
'Madamel Take a chair, I beg of you. My colleague, Captain
Hastings.'
The lady sat down, murmuring uncertainly: 'You are M.
Poirot, the detective?'
'At your service, madame.'
But our guest was still tongue-tied. She sighed, twisted her
fingers, and grew steadily redder and redder.
'There is something I can do for you, eh, madame?'
'Well, I thought - that is - you see - '
'Proceed, madame, I beg of you - proceed.'
Mrs Pengelley, thus encouraged, took a grip on herself.
'It's this way, M. Poirot - I don't want to have anything to do
with the police. No, I wouldn't go to the police for anythingl But
all the same, I'm sorely troubled about something. And yet I
don't know if I ought - ' She stopped abruptly.
The, I have nothing to do with the police. My investigations
are strictly private.'

31


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


Mrs Pengelley caught at the word.

'Private - that's what I want. I don't want any talk or fuss, or
things in the papers. Wicked it is, the way they write things, until
the family could never hold up their heads again. And it isn't as
though I was even sure - it's just a dreadful idea that's come to me,
and put it out of my head I can't.' She paused for breath. 'And all
the time I may be wickedly wronging poor Edward. It's a terrible
thought for any wife to have. But you do read of such dreadful
things nowadays.'

'Permit me - it is of your husband you speak?'

'Yes.'

'And you suspect him of- what?'

'I don't like even to say it, M. Poirot. But you do read of such
things happening - and the poor souls suspecting nothing.'

I was beginning to despair of the lady's ever coming to the
point, but Poirot's patience was equal to the demand made upon
it.

'Speak without fear, madame. Think what joy will be yours if
we are able to prove your suspicions unfounded.'

'That's true - anything's better than this wearing uncertainty.

Oh, M. Poirot, I'm dreadfully afraid I'm being poisoned.'

'What makes you think so?'

Mrs Pengelley, her reticence leaving her, plunged into a full
recital more suited to the ears of her medical attendant.

'Pain and sickness after food, eh?' said Poirot thoughtfully.
'You have a doctor attending you, madame? What does he
say?'

'He says it's acute gastritis, M. Poirot. But I can see that he's
puzzled and uneasy, and he's always altering the medicine, but
nothing does any good.'

'You have spoken of your - fears, to him?'

'No, indeed, M. Poirot. It might get about in the town. And
perhaps it/s gastritis. All the same, it's very odd that whenever
Edward is away for the week-end, I'm quite all right again. Even
Freda noticed that - my niece, M. Poirot. And then there's that
bottle of weed-killer, never used, the gardener says, and yet it's
half-empty.'


32


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

She looked appealingly at Poirot. He smiled reassuringly at her,
and reached for a pencil and notebook.
'Let us be businesslike, madame. Now, then, you and your
husband reside - where?'
'Polgarwith, a small market town in Cornwall.' 'You have lived there long?'
'Fourteen years.'
'And your household consists of you and your husband. Any
children?'
'NO,'
'But a niece, I think you said?'
'Yes, Freda Stanton, the child of my husband's only sister. She
has lived with us for the iast eight years - that is, until a week
go.'
'Oho, and what happened a week ago?'
'Things hadn't been very pleasant for some time; I don't know
what had come over Freda. She was so rude and impertinent,
and her temper something shocking, and in the end she flared up
one day, and out she walked and took rooms of her own in the
town. I've not seen her since. Better leave her to come to her
senses, so Mr Radnor says.'
'Who is Mr Radnor?'
Some of Mrs Pengelley's initial embarrassment returned.
'Oh, he's - he's just a friend. Very pleasant young fellow.'
'Anything between him and your niece?'
'Nothing whatever,' said Mrs Pengelley emphatically.
Poirot shifted his ground.
'You and your husband are, I presume, in comfortable circumstances?'
'Yes, we're very nicely off.'
'The money, is it yours or your husband's?'
'Oh, it's all IF. dward's. I've nothing of my own.'
'You see, madame, to be businesslike, we must be brutal. We
must seek for a motive. Your husband, he would not poison you
just pour passer ]e temps[ Do you know of any reason why he
should wish you out of the way?'
There's the yellow-haired hussy who works for Him,' said


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


Mrs Pengelley, with a flash of temper. 'My husband's a dentist,
M. Poirot, and nothing would do but he must have a smart girl,
as he said, with bobbed hair and a white overall, to make his
appointments and mix his fillings for him. It's come to my ears
that there have been fine goings-on, though of course he swears
it's all right.'

'This bottle of weed-killer, madame, who ordered it?'

'My husband - about a year ago.'

'Your niece, now, has she any money of her own?'

'About fifty pounds a year, I should say. She'd be glad enough

to come back and keep house for Edward if I left him.'

'You have contemplated leaving him, then?'

'I don't intend to let him have it all his own way. Women
aren't the downtrodden slaves they were in old days, M. Poirot.'

'I congratulate you on YOur independent spirit, madame; but
let us be practical. You return to Polgarwith today?'

'Yes, I came up by an excursion. Six this morning the train
started, and the train goes back at five this afternoon.'

'Bienl I have nothing of great moment on hand. I can devote
myself to your little affair. Tomorrow I shall be in Polgarwith.
Shall we say that Hastings, here, is a distant relative of yours,
the son of your second cousin? Me, I am his eccentric foreign
friend. In the meantime, eat only what is prepared by your
own hands, or under your eye. You have a maid whom you
trust?'

'Jessie is a very good girl, I am sure.'

'Till tomorrow then, madame, and be of good courage.'


Poirot bowed the lady out, and returned thoughtfully to his chair.
His absorption was not so great, however, that he failed to see two
minute strands of feather scarf wrenched off by the lady's agitated
fingers. He collected them carefully and consigned them to the
wastepaper basket.

'What do you make of the case, Hastings?'

'A nasty business, I should say.'

'Yes, if what the lady suspects be true. But is it? Woe betide
any husband who orders a bottle of weed-killer nowadays. If his


34


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


wife suffers from gastritis, and is inclined to be of a hysterical
temperament, the fat is in the fire.'

'You think that is all there is to it?'

'Ah - vo//d - I do not know, Hastings. But the case interests
me - it interests me enormously. For, see you, it has positively no
new features. Hence the hysterical theory, and yet Mrs Pengelley
did not strike me as being a hysterical woman. Yes, if I mistake
not, we have here a very poignant human drama. Tell me, Hastings,
what do you consider Mrs Pengelley's feelings towards her
husband to be?'

'Loyalty struggling with fear,' I suggested.

'Yet, ordinarily, a woman will accuse anyone in the world - but
not her husband. She will stick to her belief in him through thick
and thin.'

'The "other woman" complicates the matter.'

'Yes, affection may turn to hate, under the stimulus of jealousy.
But hate would take her to the police - not to me. She would want
an outcry - a scandal. No, no, let us exercise our little grey cells.
Why did she come to me? To have her suspicions proved wrong?
Or - to have them proved right? Ah, we have here something I do
not understand - an unknown factor. Is she a superb actress, our
Mrs Pengelley? No, she was genuine, I would swear that she was
genuine, and therefore I am interested. Look up the train to
?olgarwith, I pray you.'


The best train of the day was the one-fifty from Paddington
which reached Polgarwith just after seven o'clock. The journey
was uneventful, and I had to rouse myself from a pleasant nap to
alight upon the platform of the bleak little station. We took our
bags to the Duchy Hotel, and after a light meal, Poirot suggested
our stepping round to pay an after-dinner call on my so-called
cousin.

The Pengelleys' house stood a little way back from the road
with an old-fashioned cottage garden in front. The smell of stocks
and mignonette came sweetly wafted on the evening breeze. It
seemed impossible to associate thoughts of violence with this Old
World cham. Poirot rang and knocked. As the summons was not


35


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


answered, he rang again. This time, after a little pause, the door
was opened by a dishevelled-looking servant. Her eyes were red,
and she was sniffing violently.

'We wish to see Mrs Pengelley,' explained Poirot. 'May we
enter?'

The maid stared. Then, with unusual directness, she answered:
'Haven't you heard, then? She's dead. Died this evening - about
half an hour ago.'

We stood staring at her, stunned.

'What did she die of?' I asked at last.

'There's some as could tell.' She gave a quick glance over her
shoulder. 'If it wasn't that somebody ought to be in the house
with the missus, I'd pack my box and go tonight. But I'll not leave
her dead with no one to watch by her. It's not my place to say
anything, and I'm not going to say anything - but everybody
knows. It's all over the town. And if Mr Radnor don't write to the
'Omc Secretary, someone else will. The doctor may say what he
likes. Didn't I see the master with my own eyes a-lifting down of
the weed-killer from the shelf this very evening? And didn't he
jump when he turned round and saw me watching of him? And
the missus' gruel there on the table, all ready to take to her? Not
another bit of food passes my lips while I am in this housel Not
if I dies for it.'

'Where does the doctor live who attended your mistress?'

'Dr Adams. Round the corner there in High Street. The second
house.'

Poirot turned away abruptly. He was very pale.

'For a girl who was not going to say anything, that girl said a
lot,' I remarked dryly.

Poirot struck his clenched hand into his palm.

'An imbecile, a criminal imbecile, that is what I have been,
Hastings. I have boasted of my little grey cells, and now I have
lost a human life, a life that came to me tQ be saved. Never did I
dream that anything would happen so soon. May the good God
forgive me, but I never believed anything would happen at all.
Her story seemed to me artificial. Here we are at the doctor's.
Let us see what he can tell us.'


36


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

Dr Adams was the typical genial red-faced country doctor of
fiction. He received us politely enough, but at a hint of our
errand, his red face became purple.
'Damned nonsensel Damned nonsense, every word of it! Wasn't
I in attendance on the case? Gastritis - gastritis pure and simple.
This town's a hotbed of gossip - a lot of scandal-mongering old
women get together and invent God knows what. They read these
scurrilous rags of newspapers, &nd nothing will suit them but that
someone in their town shall get poisoned too. They see a bottle of
weed-killer on a shelf - and hey prestol - away goes their imagination
with the bit between its teeth. I know Edward Pengelley - he
wouldn't poison his grandmother's dog. And why should he
poison his wife? Tell me that?'
'There is one thing, M. le Docteur, that perhaps you do not know.'
And, very briefly, Poirot outlined the main facts of Mrs Pen-gelley's
visit to him. No one could have been more astonished than
Dr Adams. His eyes almost started out of his head.
'God bless my soull' he ejaculated. 'The poor woman must
have been mad. Why didn't she speak to me? That was the proper
thing to do.'
'And have her fears ridiculed?'
'Not at all, not at all. I hope I've got an open mind.'
Poirot looked at him and smiled. The physician was evidently
more perturbed than he cared to admit. As we left the house,
?oirot broke into a laugh.
'He is as obstinate as a pig, that one. He has said it is gastritis;
therefore it is gastritis! All the same, he has the mind uneasy.'
'What's our next step?'
'A return to the inn, and a night of horror upon one of your
English provincial beds, mon ami. It is a thing to make pity, the
cheap English bed!'
'And tomorrow?'
'Rich d faire. We must return to town and await developments.'
'That's very tame,' I said, disappointed. 'Suppose there are none?'

37


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'There will be! I can promise you that. Our old doctor may give
as many certificates as he pleases. He cannot stop several hundred
tongues from wagging. And they will wag to some purpose, I can
tell you thaw

Our train for town left at eleven the following morning. Before
we started for the station, Poirot expressed a wish to see Miss
Freda 8tanton, the niece mentioned to us by the dead woman. We
found the house where she was lodging easily enough. With her
was a tall, dark young man whom she introduced in some con-fusion
as Mr Jacob Radnor.

Miss Freda Stanton was an extremely pretty girl of the Id
Cornish type - dark hair and eyes and rosy cheeks. There was a
flash in those same dark eyes which told of a temper that it would
not be wise to provoke.

'Poor Auntie,' she said, when Poirot had introduced himself,
and explained his business. 'It's terribly sad. I've been wishing

all the morning that I'd been kinder and more patient.'

'You stood a great deal, Freda,' interrupted Radnor.

'Yes, Jacob, but I've got a sharp temper, I know. After all, it
was only silliness on Auntie's part. I ought to have just laughed
and not minded. Of course, it's all nonsense her thinking that
Uncle was poisoning her. She was worse after any food he gave
her - but I'm sure it was only from thinking about it. She made
up her mind she would be, and then she was.'

'What was the actual cause of your disagreement, mademoi-selle?'

Miss Stanton hesitated, looking at Radnor. That young gentle-man
was quick to take the hint.

'I must be getting along, Freda. See you this evening. Goodbye,

gentlemen; you're on your way to the station, I suppose?'
Poirot replied that we were, and Radnor departed.

'You are affianced, is it not so?' demanded Poirot, with a sly
smile.

Freda Stanton blushed and admitted that such was the case.

'And that was really the whole trouble with Auntie,' she
added.

'She did not approve of the match for you?'


38


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'Oh, it wasn't that so much. But you see, she - ' The girl came
to a stop.

'Yes? encouraged Poirot gently.

'It seems rather a horrid thing to say about her - now she's dead.
But you'll never understand unless I tell you. Auntie was absolutely

infatuated with Jacob.'

'Indeed?'

'Yes, wasn't it absurd? She was over fifty, and he's not quite
thirtyl But there it was. She was silly about himt I had to tell her
at last that it was me he was after - and she carried on dreadfully.
She wouldn't believe a word of it, and was so rude and insulting
that it's no wonder I lost my temper. I talked it over with Jacob,
and we agreed that the best thing to do was for me to clear out for
a bit till she came to her senses. Poor Auntie - I suppose she w
in a queer state altogether.'

'It would certainly seem so. Thank you, mademoiselle, for
making things so clear to me.'


A little to my surprise, Radnor was waiting for us in the street
below.

'I can guess pretty well what Freda has been telling you,' he
remarked. 'It was a most unfortunate thing to happen, and very
awkward for me, as you can imagine. I need hardly say that it w
none of my doing. I was pleased at first, because I imagined the
old woman was helping on things with Freda. The whole thing
was absurd - but extremely unpleasant.'

'When are you and Miss Stanton going to be married?'

'Soon, I hope. Now, M. Poirot, I'm going to be candid with
you. I know a bit more than Freda does. She believes her uncle to
be innocent. I'm not so sure. But I can tell you one thing: I'm
going to keep my mouth shut about what I do know. Let
sleeping dogs lie. I don't want my wife's uncle tried and hanged
for murder.'

'Why do you tell me all this?'

'Because I've heard of you, and I know you're a clever man. It's
quite possible that you might ferret out a case against him. But I
put it to you - what good is that? The poor woman is past help,


39


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


and she'd have been the last person to want a scandal - why, she'd
turn in her grave at the mere thought of it.'

'You are probably right there. You want me to - hush it up,
then?'

'That's my idea. I'll admit frankly that I'm selfish about it.
I've got my way to make - and I'm building up a good little
business as a tailor and outfitter.'

'Most of us are selfish, Mr Radnor. Not all of us admit it so
freely. I will do what you ask - but I tell you frankly you will not

succeed in hushing it up.'

'Why not?'

Poirot held up a finger. It was market day, and we were passing
the market - a busy hum came from within.

'The voice of the people - that is why, Mr Radnor. Ah, we must
run, or we shall miss our train.'


'Very interesting, is it not, Hastings?' said Poirot, as the train
steamed out of the station.

He had taken out a small comb from his pocket, also a micro-scopic
mirror, and was carefully arranging his moustache, the
symmetry of which had become slightly impaired during our brisk

run.

'You seem to find it so,' I replied. 'To me, it is all rather sordid

and unpleasant. There's hardly any mystery about it.'

'I agree with you; there is no mystery whatever.'

'I suppose we can accept the girl's rather extraordinary story
of her aunt's infatuation? That seemed the only fishy part to me.
She was such a nice, respectable woman.'

'There is nothing extraordinary about that - it is completely
ordinary. If you read the papers carefully, you will find that often
a nice respectable woman of that age leaves a husband she has
lived with for twenty years, and sometimes a whole family of
children as well, in order to link her life with that of a young man
considerably her junior. You admire les femmes, Hastings; you
prostrate yourself before all of them who are good-looking and
have the good taste to smile upon you; but psychologically you
know nothing whatever about them. In the autumn of a woman's


4O


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

life, there comes always one mad moment when she longs for
romance, for adventure - before it is too late. It comes none the
less surely to a woman because she is the wife of a respectable
	dentist in a country town?
'And you think '
'That a clever man might take advantage of such a moment.'
'I shouldn't call Pengelley so clever,' I mused. 'He's got the
whole town by the ears. And yet I suppose you're right. The only
two men who know anything, Radnor and the doctor, both want
to hush it up. He's managed that somehow. I wish we'd seen the
fellow.'
I
	'You can indulge your wish. Return by the next train and invent

	an aching molar.'

	looked at him keenly.
	II wish I knew what you considered so interesting about the

	case.'

i
	'My interest is very aptly summed up by a remark of yours,

	Hastings. After interviewing the maid, you observed that for
i
	someone who was not going to say a word, she had said a good

	d ''h!' I said doubtfully; then I harped back to my original

	criticism: 'I wonder why you made no attempt to see Pen
	gelley?'

·
	'Mon
ami, I give him just three months. Then I shall see him


	for as long as I please - in the dock.'

For once I thought Poirot's prognostications were going to be
proved wrong. The time went by, and nothing transpired as to
our Cornish case. Other matters occupied us, and I had nearly
forgotten the Pengelley tragedy when it was suddenly recalled to
me by a short paragraph in the paper which stated that an order
to exhume the body of Mrs Pengelley had been obtained from the
Home Secretary.
A few days later, and 'The Cornish Mystery' was the topic of
every paper. It seemed that gossip had never entirely died down,
and when the engagement of the widower to Miss Marks, his
secretary, was announced, the tongues burst out again louder than

41


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

ever. Finally a petition was sent to the Home Secretary; the body
was exhumed; large quantities of arsenic were discovered; and
Mr Pengelley was arrested and charged with the murder of his
wife.
Poirot and I attended the preliminary proceedings. The
evidence was much as might have been expected. Dr Adams
admitted that the symptoms of arsenical poisoning might easily be
mistaken for those of gastritis. The Home Office expert gave his
evidence; the maid Jessie poured out a flood of voluble information,
most of which was rejected, but which certainly strengthened the
case against the prisoner. Freda Stanton gave evidence as to her
aunt's being worse whenever she ate food prepared by her husband.
Jacob Radnor told how he had dropped in unexpectedly on the
day of Mrs Pengelley's death, and found Pengelley replacing the
bottle of weed-killer on the pantry sheff, Mrs Pengelley's gruel
being on the table close by. Then Miss Marks, the fair-haired
secretary, was called, and wept and went into hysterics and admitted
that there had been 'passages' between her and her
employer, and that he had promised to marry her in the event of
anything happening to his wife. Pengelley reserved his defence and
was sent for trial.

Jacob Radnor walked back with us to our lodgings.
'You see, M. Radnor,' said Poirot, 'I was right. The voice of the
people spoke - and with no uncertain voice. There was to be no
hushing up of this case.'
'You were quite right,' sighed Radnor. 'Do you see any chance
of his getting off?'
'Well, he has reserved his defence. He may have something up
the sleeve, as you English say. Come in with us, will you
not?'
Radnor accepted the invitation. I ordered two whiskies and
sodas and a cup of chocolate. The last order caused consternation,
and I much doubted whether it would ever put in an appearance.
'Of course,' continued Poirot, 'I have a good deal of experience
in matters of this kind. And I see only one loophole of escape for
our friend.'

42


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'What is it?'
'That you should sign this paper.'
With the suddenness of a conjuror, he produced a sheet of
paper covered with writing.
'What is it?'
'A confession that you murdered Mrs Pengelley.'
There was a moment's pause; then Radnor laughed.
'You must be madl'
'No, no, my friend, I am not mad. You came here; you started
a little business; you were short of money. Mr Pengelley was a
man very well-to-do. You met his niece; she was inclined to smile
upon you. But the small allowance that Pengelley might have
given her upon her marriage was not enough for you. You must
get rid of both the uncle and the aunt; then the money would
come to her, since she was the only relative. How cleverly you set
about it! You made love to that plain middle-aged woman until
she was your slave. You implanted in her doubts of her husband.
She discovered first that he was deceiving her - then, under your
guidance, that he was trying to poison her. You were often at the
house; you had opportunities to introduce the arsenic into her
food. But you were careful never to do so when her husband was
away. Being a woman, she did not keep her suspicions to herself.
She talked to her niece; doubtless she talked to other women
friends. Your only difficulty was keeping up separate relations
with the two women, and even that was not so difficult as it looked.
You explained to the aunt that, to allay the suspicions of her
husband, you had to pretend to pay court to the niece. And the
younger lady needed little convincing - she would never seriously
consider her aunt as a rival.
'But then Mrs Pengelley made up her mind, without saying
anything to you, to consult me. If she could be really assured,
beyond any possible doubt, that her husband was trying to poison
her, she would feel justified in leaving him, and linking her life
with yours - which is what she imagined you wanted her to do.
But that did not suit your book at all. You did not want a detective
prying around. A favourable minute occurs. You are in the house
when Mr Pengelley is getting some gruel for his wife, and you

43


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


introduce the fatal dose. The rest is easy. Apparently anxious to
hush matters up, you secretly foment them. But you reckoned
without Hercule Poirot, my intelligent young friend.'

Radnor was deadly pale, but he still endeavoured to carry off
matters with a high hand.

'Very interesting and ingenious, but why tell me all this?'
'Because, monsieur, I represent - not the law, but Mrs Pen-gelley.
For her sake, I give you a chance of escape. Sign this paper,
and you shall have twenty-four hours' start - twenty-four hours

before I place it in the hands of the police.'

Radnor hesitated.

'You can't prove anything.'

'Can't I? I am Hercule Poirot. Look out of the window, monsieur.
There are two men in the street. They have orders not to lose
sight of you.'

Radnor strode across to the window and pulled aside the blind,
then shrank back with an oath.

'You see, monsieur? Sign - it is your best chance.'

'What guarantee have I - '

'That I shall keep faith? The word of Hercule Poirot. You will
sign? Good. Hastings, be so kind as to pull that left-hand blind
half-way up. That is the signal that Mr Radnor may leave
unmolested.'

White, muttering oaths. Radnor hurried from the room. Poirot
nodded gently.

'A cowardl I always knew it.'

'It seems to me, Poirot, that you've acted in a criminal manner,'
I cried angrily. 'You always preach against sentiment. And here
you are letting a dangerous criminal escape out of sheer senti-mentality.'

'That was not sentiment - that was business,' replied Poirot.
'Do you not see, my friend, that we have no shadow of proof
against him? Shall I get up and say to twelve stolid Cornishmen
that/, Hercule Poirot, knova? They would laugh at me. The only
chance was to frighten him and get a confession that way. Those
two loafers that I noticed out:ide came in very useful. Pull
down the blind again, will you, Hastings? Not that there was


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


any reason for raising it. It was part of the raise en scdne.

'Well, well, we must keep our word. Twenty-four hours, did I
say? So much longer for poor Mr Pengelley - and it is not more
than he deserves; for mark you, he deceived his wife. I am very
strong on the family life, as you know. Ah, well, twenty-four houri
- and then? I have great faith in Scotland Yard. They will get him,
raon ami; they will get him.'


45


CHAPTER IV


THE ADVENTURE OF JOHNNIE WAVERLY


'You can understand the feelings of a mother,' said Mrs Waverly
for perhaps the sixth time.

She looked appealingly at Poirot. My little friend, always
sympathetic to motherhood in distress, gesticulated reassuringly.

'But yes, but yes, I comprehend perfectly. Have faith in Papa
Poirot.'

'The police - ' began Mr Waverly.

His wife waved the interruption aside. 'I won't have anything
more to do with the police. We trusted to them and look what
happened! But I'd heard so much of M. Poirot and the wonderful
things he'd done, that I felt he might possibly be able to help us.
A mother's feelings -'

Poirot hastily stemmed the reiteration with an eloquent gesture.
Mrs Waverly's emotion was obviously genuine, but it assorted
strangely with her shrewd, rather hard type of countenance. When
I heard later that she was the daughter of a prominent steel
manufacturer of Birmingham who had worked his way up in the
world from an office boy to his present eminence, I realized that
ahe had inherited many of the paternal qualities.

Mr Waverly was a big, florid, jovial-looking man. He stood
with his legs straddled wide apart and looked the type of the
country squire.

'I suppose you know all about this business, M. Poirot?'

The question was almost superfluous. For some days past the
paper had been full of the sensational kidnapping of little Johnnie
Waverly, the three-year-old son and heir of Marcus Waverly,
Esq., of Waverly Court, Surrey, one of the oldest families in
England.

'The main facts I know, of course, but recount to me the whole
story, monsieur, I beg of you. And in detail if you please.'


46


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'Well, I suppose the beginning of the whole thing was about
ten days ago when I got an anonymous letter - beastly things,
anyway - that I couldn't make head or tail of. The writer had the
impudence to demand that I should pay him twenty-five thousand
pounds - twenty-five thousand pounds, M. Poirotl Failing my
agreement, he threatened to kidnap Johnnie. Of course I threw the
thing into the wastepaper basket without more ado. Thought it
was some silly joke. Five days later I got another letter. "Unless
you pay, your son will be kidnapped on the twenty-ninth." That
was on the twenty-seventh. Ada was worried, but I couldn't bring
myself to treat the matter seriously. Damn it all, we're in England.
Nobody goes about kidnapping children and holding them up to
ransom.'

'It is not a common practice, certainly,' said Poirot. 'Proceed,
monsieur.'

'Well, Ada gave me no peace, so - feeling a bit of a fool - I laid
the matter before Scotland Yard. They didn't seem to take the
thing very seriously - inclined to my view that it was some silly
joke. On the twenty-eighth I got a third letter. "You have not
paid. Your son will be taken from you at twelve o'clock noon
tomorrow, the twenty-ninth. It will cost you fifty thousand pounds
to recover him." Up I drove to Scotland Yard again. This time
they were more impressed. They inclined to the view that the
letters were written by a lunatic, and that in all probability an
attempt of some kind would be made at the hour stated. They
aured me that they would take all due precautions. Inspector
McNeil and a sufficient force would come down to Waverly on
the morrow and take charge.

'I went home much relieved in my mind. Yet we already had
the feeling of being in a state of siege. I gave orders that no stranger
was to be admitted, and that no one was to leave the house. The
evening passed off without any untoward incident, but on the
following morning my wife was seriously unwell. Alarmed by her
condition, I sent for Doctor Dakers. Her symptoms appeared to
puzzle him. While hesitating to suggest that she had been
poisoned, I could see that that was what was in his mind. There
was no danger, he assured me, but it would be a day or two


47


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


before she would be able to get about again. Returning to my own
room, I was startled and amazed to find a note pinned to my
pillow. It was in the same handwriting as the others and contained
just three words: "At twelve o'clock".

'I admit, M. Po[rot, that then I saw redl Someone in the house
was in this - one of the servants. I had them all up, blackguarded
them right and left. They never split on each other; it was Miss
Collins, my wife's companion, who informed me that she had
seen Johnnie's nurse slip down the drive early that morning. I
taxed her with it, and she broke down. She had left the child
with the nursery maid and stolen out to meet a friend of hers - a
manl Pretty goings onl She denied having pinned the note to my
pillow - she may have been speaking the truth, I don't know. I
felt I couldn't take the risk of the child's own nurse being in the
plot. One of the servants was implicated - of that I was sure.
Finally I lost my temper and sacked the whole bunch, nurse and
all. I gave them an hour to pack their boxes and get out of the
house.'

Mr Waverly's red face was quite two shades redder as he
remembered his just wrath.

'Was not that a little injudicious, monsieur?' suggested Poirot.
'For all you know, you might have been playing into the enemy's
hands.'

Mr Waverly stared at him. 'I don't see that. Send the whole
lot packing, that was my idea. I wired to London for a fresh lot to
be sent down that evening. In the meantime, there'd be only
people I cod trust in the house: my wife's secretary, Miss Collins,
and Tredwell, the butler, who has been with me since I was a
boy.'

'And this Miss Collins, how long has she been with you?'

'Just a year,' said Mrs Waverly. 'She has been invaluable to me

as a secretary-companion, and is also a very efficient housekeeper.'
'The nurse?'

'She has been with me six months. She came to me with
excellent references. All the same, I never really liked her,
although Johnnie was quite devoted to her.'

'Still, I gather she had already left when the catastrophe occurred.


48


?O1ROT'S EARLY CASES


Perhaps, Monsieur Waverly, you will be so kind as to continue.'
Mr Waverly resumed his narrative.
'Inspector McNeil arrived about ten-thirty. The servants had
all left by then. He declared himself quite satisfied with the internal
arrangements. He had various men posted in the park outside,
guarding all the approaches to the house, and he assured me that
if the whole thing were not a hoax, we should undoubtedly catch
my mysterious correspondent.

'I had Johnnie with me, and he and I and the inspector went
together into a room we call the council chamber. The inspector
locked the door. There is a big grandfather clock there, and as the
hands drew near to twelve I don't mind confessing that I was as
nervous as a cat. There was a whirring sound, and the clock began
to strike. I clutched lohnnie. I had a feeling a man might drop
from the skies. The last stroke sounded, and as it did so, there was
a great commotion outside - shouting and running. The inspector
flung up the window, and a constable came running up.

' "We've got him, sir," he panted. "He was sneaking up through
the bushes. He's got a whole dope outfit on him."

'We hurried out on the terrace where two constables were
holding a ruffianly-looking fellow in shabby clothes, who was
twisting and turning in a vain endeavour to escape. One of the
policemen held out an unrolled parcel which they had wrested
from their captive. It contained a pad of cotton wool and a bottle
of chloroform. It made my blood boil to see it. There was a note,
too, addressed to me. I tore it open. It bore the following words:
"You should have paid up. To ransom your son will now cost you
fifty thousand. In spite of all your precautions he has been abducted
at twelve o'clock on the twenty-ninth as I said."

'I gave a great laugh, the laugh of relief, but as I did so I heard
the hum of a motor and a shout. I turned my head. Racing down
the drive towards the south lodge at a furious speed was a low,
long grey car. It was the man who drove it who had shouted, but
that was not what gave me a shock of horror. It was the sight of
Johnnie's flaxen curls. The child was in the car beside him.

'The inspector ripped out an oath. "The child was here not a
minute ago," he cried. His eyes swept over us. We were all there:


49


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


myself, Tredwell, Miss Collins. "When did you see him last,
Mr Waverly?"

'I cast my mind back, trying to remember. When the constable
had called us, I had run out with the inspector, forgetting all
about Johnnie.

'And then there came a sound that startled us, the chiming of
a church clock from the village. With an exclamation the inspector
pulled out his watch. It was exactly twelve o'clock. With one
common accord we ran to the council chamber; the clock there
marked the hour as ten minutes past. Someone must have deliber-ately
tampered with it, for I have never known it gain or lose
before. It is a perfect timekeeper.'

Mr Waverly paused. Poirot smiled to himself and straightened
a little mat which the anxious father had pushed askew.

'A pleasing little problem, obscure and charming,' murmured
Poirot. 'I will investigate it for you with pleasure. Truly it was
planned d merveille.'

Mrs Waverly looked at him reproachfully. 'But my boy,' she
wailed.

Poirot hastily composed his face and looked the picture of
earnest sympathy again. 'He is safe, madame, he is unharmed.
Rest assured, these miscreants will take the greatest care of him.
I he not to them the turkey - no, the goose - that lays the golden
egg?'

'M. Poirot, I'm sure there's only one thing to be done - pay up.
I was all against it at first - but hOWl A mother's feelings - '

'But we have interrupted monsieur in his history,' cried Poirot
hastily.

'I expect you know the rest pretty well from the papers,' said
Mr Waverly. 'Of course, Inspector McNeil got on to the telephone
immediately. A description of the car and the man was circulated
all round, and it looked at first as though everything was going to
turn out all right. A car, answering to the description, with a man
and a small boy, had passed through various villages, apparently
making for London. At one place they had stopped, and it wa
noticed that the child was crying and obviously afraid of his
companion. When Inspector McNeil announced that the car had


5O


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


been stopped and the man and boy detained, I was almost ill with
relief. You know the sequel. The boy was not Johnnie, and the
man was an ardent motorist, fond of children, who had picked up
a small child playing in the streets of Edenswell, a village about
fifteen miles from us, and was kindly giving him a ride. Thanks to
the cocksure blundering of the police, all traces have disappeared.
Had they not persistently followed the wrong car, they might by
now have found the boy.'

'Calm yourself, monsieur. The police are a brave and intelligent
force of men. Their mistake was a very natural one. And altogether
it was a clever scheme. As to the man they caught in the grounds,
I understand that his defence has consisted all along of a persistent
denial. He declares that the note and parcel were given to him to
deliver at Waverly Court. The man who gave them to him handed
him a ten-shilling note and promised him another if it were
delivered at exactly ten minutes to twelve. He was to approach the
house through the grounds and knock at the side door.'

'I don't bdieve a word of it,' declared Mrs Waverly hotly. 'It's
all a parcel of lies.'

'Eh vritg, it is a thin story,' said Poirot reflectively. 'But so far
they have not shaken it. I understand, also, that he made a certain
accusation?'

His glance interrogated Mr Waverly. The latter got rather red
again.

'Tlle fellow had the impertinence to pretend that he recognized
in Tredwell the man who gave him the parcel. "Only the bloke
has shaved off his moustache." Tredwell, who was born on the
estatel'

Poirot smiled a little at the country gentleman's indignation.
'Yet you yourself suspect an inmate of the house to have been

accessory to the abduction.'

'Yes, but not Tredwell.'

'And you, madame?' asked Poirot, suddenly turning to her.

'It could not have been Tredwell who gave this tramp the
letter and parcel - if anybody ever did, which I don't believe. It
was given him at ten o'clock, he says. At ten o'clock Tredwell waa
with my husband in the smoking-room.'


51


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'Were you able to see the face of the man in the car, monsieur?

Did it resemble that of Tredwell in any way?'
'It was too far away for me to see his face.'
'Has Tredwell a brother, do you know?'

'He had several, but they are all dead. The last one was killed
in the war.'

'I am not yet clear as to the grounds of Waverly Court. The car
was heading for the south lodge. Is there another entrance?'

'Yes, what we call the east lodge. It can be seen from the other
side of the house.'

'It seems to me strange that nobody saw the car entering the
grounds.'

'There is a right of way through, and access to a small chapel.
A good many cars pass through. The man must have stopped the
car in a convenient place and run up to the house just as the alarm
was given and attention attracted elsewhere.'

'Unless he was already inside the house,' mused Poirot. 'Is there
any place where he could have hidden?'

'Well, we certainly didn't make a thorough search of the house
beforehand. There seemed no need. I suppose he might have
hidden himself somewhere, but who would have let him in?'

'We shall come to that later. One thing at a time - let us be
methodical. There is no special hiding-place in the house? Waverly
Court is an old place, and there are sometimes "priests' holes",
as they call them.'

'By gad, there/s a priest's hole. It opens from one of the panels
in the hall.'

'Near the council chamber?'
'Just outside the door.'
'Vo/k/l'

'But nobody knows of its existence except my wife and myself.'
'Tredwell?'

'Well - he might have heard of it.'

'Miss Collins?'

'I have never mentioned it to her.'

Poirot reflected for a minute.

'Well, monsieur, the next thing is for me to come down to


52


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

Waverly Court. If I arrive this afternoon, will it suit you?'
'Oh, as soon as possible, please, Monsieur Poirotl' cried Mrs
Waverly. 'Read this once more.'
She thrust into his hands the last missive from the enemy
which had reached the Waverlys that morning and which had
sent her post-haste to Poirot. It gave clever and explicit directions
for the paying over of the money, and ended with a threat that
the boy's life would pay for any treachery. It was clear that a love
of money warred with the essential mother love of Mrs Waverley,
and that the latter was at last gaining the day.
Poirot detained Mrs Waverly for a minute behind her husband.
'Madame, the truth, if you please. Do you share your husband's
faith in the butler, Tredwell?'
'I have nothing against him, Monsieur Poirot, I cannot see how
he can have been concerned in this, but - well, I have never liked
him - never?
'One other thing, madame, can you give me the address of the
child's nurse?'
'x49 Netherall Road, Hammersmith. You don't imagine- '
'Never do I imagine. Only - I employ the little grey cells. And
sometimes, just sometimes, I have a little idea.'
Poirot came back to me as the door closed.
'So madame has never liked the butler. It is interesting, that,
eh, Hastings?'
I refused to be drawn. Poirot has deceived me so often that I
now go warily. There is always a catch somewhere.
After completing an elaborate outdoor toilet, we set off for
Netherall Road. We were fortunate enough to find Miss Jessie
Withers at home. She was a pleasant-faced woman of thirty-five,
capable and superior. I could not believe that she could be mixed
up in the affair. She was bitterly resentful of the way she had been
dismissed, but admitted that she had been in the wrong. She was
engaged to be married to a painter and decorator who happened
to be in the neighbourhood, and she had run out to meet him.
The thing seemed natural enough. I could not quite understand
Poirot. All his questions seemed to me quite irrelevant. They
were concerned mainly with the daily routine of her life at Waverly

53


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

Court. I was frankly bored and glad when Poirot took his departure.
'Kidnapping is an easy job, rnon ami,' he observed, as he hailed
a taxi in the Hammersmith Road and ordered it to drive to Water-1oo.
'That child could have been abducted with the greatest ease
any day for the last three years.'
'I don't see that that advances us much,' I remarked coldly. '.4u contraire, it advances us enormously, but enormouslyl If
you must wear a tie pin, Hastings, at least let it be in the exact
centre of your tie. At present it is at least a sixteenth of an inch too
much to the right.'
Waverly Court was a fine old place and had recently been restored
with taste and care. Mr Waverly showed us the council chamber,
the terrace, and all the various spots connected with the case.
Finally, at Poirot's request, he pressed a spring in the wall, a panel
slid aside, and a short passage led us into the priest's hole.
'You see,' said Waverly. 'There is nothing here.'
The tiny room was bare enough, there was not even the mark
of a footstep on the floor. I joined Poirot where he was bending
attentively over a mark in the corner.
'What do you make of this, my friend?'
There were four imprints close together.
'A dog,' I cried.
'A very small dog, Hastings.'
'A Porn.'
'Smaller than a Porn.'
'A griffon?' I suggested doubtfully.
'Smaller even than a griffon. A species unknown to the Kennel
Club.'
I looked at him. His face was alight with excitement and
satisfaction.
'I was right,' he murmured. 'I knew I was right. Come,
Hastings.'
As we stepped out into the hall and the panel closed behind us,
a young lady came out of a door farther down the passage. Mr
Waverl„ presented her to us.
'Miss Collins.'
Miss Collins was about thirty years of age, brisk and alert in

54


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

manner. She had fair, rather dull hair, and wore pincenez.
At Poirot's request, we passed into a small morning-room, and
he questioned her closely as to the servants and particularly as to
Tredwell. She admitted that she did not like the butler.
'He gives himself airs,' she explained.
They then went into the question of the food eaten by Mrs
Waverly on the night of the 28th. Miss Collins declared that she
had partaken of the same dishes upstairs in her sitting-room and
had felt no ill effects. As she was departing I nudged Poirot.
'The dog,' I whispered.
'Ah, yes, the dog!' He smiled broadly. 'Is there a dog kept here
by any chance, mademoiselle?'
'There are two retrievers in the kennels outside.'
'No, I mean a small dog, a toy dog.' 'No - nothing of the kind.'
Poirot permitted her to depart. Then, pressing the bell, he remarked to me, 'She lies, that Mademoiselle Collins. Possibly I
should, also, in her place. Now for the butler.'
Tredwell was a dignified individual. He told his story with
perfect aplomb, and it was essentially the same as that of Mr
Waverly. He admitted that he knew the secret of the priest's hole.
When he finally withdrew, pontifical to the last, I met Poirot's
quizzical eyes.
'What do you make of it all, Hastings?'
'What do you?' I parried.
'How cautious you become. Never, never will the grey celh
function unless you stimulate them. Ah, but I will not tease youl
Let us make our deductions together. What points strike us specially
as being difficult?'
'There is one thing that strikes me,' I said. 'Why did the man
who kidnapped the child go out by the south lodge instead of by
the east lodge where no one would see him?'
'That is a very good point, Hastings, an excellent one. I will
match it with another. Why warn the Waverlys beforehand? Why
not simply kidnap the child and hold him to ransom?'
'BeCause they hoped to get the money without being forced to
action.'

55


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

Court. I was frankly bored and glad when Poirot took his departure.
'Kidnapping is an easy job, mort ami,' he observed, as he hailed
a taxi in the Hammersmith Road and ordered it to drive to Waterloo.
'That child could have been abducted with the greatest ease
any day for the last three years.'
'I don't see that that advances us much,' I remarked coldly. '.4u contraire, it advances us enormously, but enormouslyl If
you must wear a tie pin, Hastings, at least let it be in the exact
centre of your tie. At present it is at least a sixteenth of an inch too
much to the right.'
Waverly Court was a fine old place and had recently been restored
with taste and care. Mr Waverly showed us the council chamber,
the terrace, and all the various spots connected with the cae.
Finally, at Poirot's request, he pressed a spring in the wall, a panel
,lid aside, and a short passage led us into the priest's hole.
'You see,' said Waverly. 'There is nothing here.'
The tiny room was bare enough, there was not even the mark
of a footstep on the floor. I joined Poirot where he was bending
attentively over a mark in the corner.
'What do you make of this, my friend?'
There were four imprints close together.
'A dog,' I cried.
'A very small dog, Hastings.'
'A Porn.'
'Smaller than a Porn.'
'A griffon?' I suggested doubtfully.
'Smaller even than a griffon. A species unknown to the Kennel
Club.'
I looked at him. His face was alight with excitement and
atisfaction.
'I was right,' he murmured. 'I knew I was right. Come,
Hastings.'
As we stepped out into the hall and the panel closed behind ua,
a young lady came out of a door farther down the passage. Mr
Waverl„ presented her to us.
'Miss Collins.'
Miss Collins was about thirty years of age, brisk and alert in

54


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

manner. She had fair, rather dull hair, and wore pincenez.
At Poirot's request, we passed into a small morning-room, and he questioned her closely as to the servants and particularly as to
Tredwell. She admitted that she did not like the butler.
'He gives himself air,' she explained.
They then went into the question of the food eaten by Mrs
Waverly on the night of the zSth. Miss Collins declared that she
had partaken of the same dishes upstairs in her sitting-room and
had felt no ill effects. As she was departing I nudged Poirot.
'The dog,' I whispered.
'Ah, yes, the dog? He smiled broadly. 'Is there a dog kept here
by any chance, mademoiselle?'
'There are two retriever in the kennels outside.'
'No, I mean a small dog, a toy dog.'
'No - nothing of the kind.'
Poirot permitted her to depart. Then, pressing the bell, he
remarked to me, 'She lies, that Mademoiselle Collins. Possibly I
should, also, in her place. Now for the butler.'
Tredwell was a dignified individual. He told his story with
perfect aplomb, and it was essentially the same as that of Mr
Waverly. He admitted that he knew the secret of the priest's hole.
When he finally withdrew, pontifical to the last, I met Poirot's
quizzical eyes.
'What do you make of it all, Hastings?'
'What do you?' I parried.
'How cautious you become. Never, never will the grey cells
function unless you stimulate them. Ah, but I will not tease youl
Let us make our deductions together. What points strike us specially
as being difficult?'
'There is one thing that strikes me,' I said. 'Why did the man
who kidnapped the child go out by the south lodge instead of by
the east lodge where no one would see him?'
'That is a very good point, Hastings, an excellent one. I will
match it with another. Why warn the Waverlys beforehand? Why not simply kidnap the child and hold him to ransom?'
'BeCause they hoped to get the money without being forced to
actiol.'

55


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'Surely it was very unlikely that the money would be paid on
a mere threat?'
'Also they wanted to focus attention on twelve o'clock, so that
when the tramp man' was seized, the other could emerge from his
hiding-place and get away with the child unnoticed.'
'That does not alter the fact that they were making a thing
difficult that was perfectly easy. If they do not specify a time or
date, nothing would be easier than to wait their chance, and
carry off the child in a motor one day when he is out with his
nurse.'
'Ye - es,' I admitted doubtfully.
'In fact, there is a deliberate playing of the farce! Now let us
approach the question from another side. Everything goes to show
that there was an accomplice inside the house. Point number one,
the mysterious poisoning of Mrs Waverly. Point number two,
the letter pinned to the pillow. Point number three, the putting on
of the clock ten minutes - all inside jobs. And an additional fact
that you may not have noticed. There was no dust in the priest's
hole. It had been swept out with a broom.
'Now then, we have four people in the house. We can exclude
the nurse, since she could not have swept out the priest's hole, though she could have attended to the other three points. Four
people, Mr and Mrs Waverly, Tredwell, the butler, and Miss
Collins. We will take Miss Collins first. We have nothing much
against her, except that we know very little about her, that she is
obviously an intelligent young woman, and that she has only been
here a year.'
'She lied about the dog, you said,' I reminded him.
'Ah, yes, the dog.' Poirot gave a peculiar smile. 'Now let us
pass to Tredwell. There are several suspicious facts against him.
For one thing, the tramp declares that it was Tredwell who gave
him the parcel in the village.'
'But Tredwell can prove an alibi on that point.'
'Even then, he could have poisoned Mrs Waverly, pinned the
note to the pillow, put on the clock, and swept out the priest's
hole. On the other hand, he has been born and bred in the service
of the Waverlys. It seems unlikely in the last degree that he should

56


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


connive at the abduction of the son of the house. It is not in the
picturel'

'Well, then?'

'We must proceed logically - however absurd it may seem. We
will briefly consider Mrs Waverly. But she is rich, the money is
hers. It is her money which has restored this impoverished estate.
There would be no reason for her to kidnap her son and pay over
her money to herself. Her husband, now, is in a different position.
He has a rich wife. It is not the same thing as being rich himself-in
fact I have a little idea that the lady is not very fond of parting
with her money, except on a very good pretext. But Mr Waverley,

you can see at once, he is bon viveur.'

'Impossible,' I spluttered.

'Not at all. Who sends away the servants? Mr Waverly. He can
write the notes, drug his wife, put on the hands of the clock, and
establish an excellent alibi for his faithful retainer Tredwell.
Tredwell has never liked Mrs Waverley. He is devoted to his
master and is willing to obey his orders implicitly. There were
three of them in it. Waverly, Tredwell, and some friend of
Waverly. That is the mistake the police made, they made no
further inquiries about the man who drove the grey car with the
wrong child in it. He was the third man. He picks up a child in a
village near by, a boy with flaxen curls. He drives in through the
east lodge and passes out through the south lodge just at the right
moment, waving his hand and shouting. They cannot see his face
or the number of the car, so obviously they cannot see the child's
face, either. Then he lays a false trail to London. In the meantime,
Tredwell has done his part in arranging for the parcel and note
to be delivered by a rough-looking gentleman. His master can
provide an alibi in the unlikely case of the man recognizing him,
in spite of the false moustache he wore. As for Mr Waverly, as
soon as the hullabaloo occurs outside, and the inspector rushes
out, he quickly hides the child in the priest's hole, and follows him
out. Later in the day, when the inspector is gone and Miss Collins
is out of the way, it will be easy enough to drive him off to some
safe place in his own car.'

'But what about the dog?' I asked. 'And Miss Collins lying?'


57


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'That was my little joke. I asked her if there were any toy dog
in the house, and she said no - but doubtless there are some - in
the nurseryl You see, Mr Waverly placed some toys in the priest's
hole to keep Johnnie amused and quiet.'
'M. Poirot - ' Mr Waverly entered the room - 'have you
discovered anything? Have you any clue to where the boy has
been taken?'
Poirot handed him a piece of paper. 'Here is the address.'
'But this is a blank sheet.'
'Because I am waiting for you to write it down for me.'
'What the - ' Mr Waverly's face turned purple.
'I know everything, monsieur. I give you twenty-four hours to
return the boy. Your ingenuity will be equal to the task of explaining
his reappearance. Otherwise, Mrs Waverly will be
informed of the exact sequence of events.'
Mr Waverly sank down in a chair and buried his face in his
hands. 'He is with my old nurse, ten miles away. He is happy and
well cared for.'
'I have no doubt of that. If I did not believe you to be a good
father at heart, I should not be willing to give you another chance:'
'The scandal '
'Exactly. Your name is an old and honoured one. Do not
jeopardize it again. Good evening, Mr Waverly. Ah, by the way,
one word of advice. Always sweep in the cornersl'

58


CHAPTER V


THE DOUBLE CLUE


'But above everything - no publicity,' said Mr Marcus Hardman
for perhaps the fourteenth time.

The word publicity occurred throughout his conversation with
the regularity of a leitmotif. Mr Hardman was a small man,
delicately plump, with exquisitely manicured hands and a plaintive
tenor voice. In his way, he was somewhat of a celebrity and the
fashionable life was his profession. He was rich, but not remarkably
so, and he spent his money zealously in the pursuit of social
pleasure. His hobby was collecting. He had the collector's soul.
Old lace, old fans, antique jewellery - nothing crude or modem
for Marcus Hardman.

Poirot and I, obeying an urgent summons, had arrived to find
the little man writhing in an agony of indecision. Under the
circumstances, to call in the police was abhorrent to him. On the
other hand, not to call them in was to acquiesce in the loss of some
of the gems of his collection. He hit upon Poirot as a compromise.

'My rubies, Monsieur Poirot, and the emerald necklace - said
to have belonged to Catherine de' Medici. Oh, the emerald
necklace?

'If you will recount to me the circumstances of their dis-appearance?'
suggested Poirot gently.

'I am endeavouring to do so. Yesterday afternoon I had a little
tea party - quite an informal affair, some half a dozen people or
so. I have given one or two of them during the season, and though
perhaps I should not say so, they have been quite a success. Some
good music - Nacora, the pianist, and Katherine Bird, the Austral-ian
contralto - in the big studio. Well, early in the afternoon, I
was showing my guests my collection of medieval jewels. I keep
them in the small wall safe over there. It is arranged like a cabinet
inside, with coloured velvet background, to display the stone.


59


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


Afterwards we inspected the fans - in that case on the wall. Then
we all went to the studio for music. It was not until after everyone
had gone that I discovered the safe rifledl I must have failed to
shut it properly, and someone had seized the opportunity to
denude it of its contents. The rubies, Monsieur Poirot, the
emerald necklace - the collection of a lifetimel What would I not
give to recover them! But there must be no publicity! You fully
understand that, do you not, Monsieur Poirot? My own guests,
my personal friends! It would be a horrible scandall'

'Who was the last person to leave this room when you went to
the studio?'

'Mr Johnston. You may know him? The South African million-aire.
He has just rented the Abbotburys' house in Park Lane. He
lingered behind a few moments, I remember. But surely, oh,
surely it could not be he!'

'Did any of your guests return to this room during the afternoon
on any pretext?'

'I was prepared for that question, Monsieur Poirot. Three of
them did so. Countess „era Rossakoff, Mr Bernard Parker, and
Lady Runcorn.'

'Let us hear about them.'

'The Countess Rossakoff is a very charming Russian lady, a
member of the old rgime. She has recently come to this country.
She had bade me goodbye, and I was therefore somewhat surprised
to find her in this room apparently gazing in rapture at my cabinet
of fans. You know, Monsieur Poirot, the more I think of it, the
more suspicious it seems to me. Don't you agree?'

'Extremely suspicious; but let us hear about the others.'

'Well, Parker simply came here to fetch a case of miniatures that

I was anxious to show to Lady Runcorn.'

'And Lady Runcorn herself?'

'As I dare say you know, Lady Runcorn is a middle-aged
woman of considerable force of character who devotes most of
her time to various charitable committees. She simply returned to
fetch a handbag she had laid down somewhere.'

'Bien, monsieur. So we have four possible suspects. The Russian
countess, the English grande dame, the South African millionaire,


60


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

	and Mr Bernard Parker. Who is Mr Parker, by the way?'
The question appeared to embarrass Mr Hardman considerably.
'He is - er - he is a young fellow. Well, in fact, a young fellow
I know.'
'I had already deduced as much,' replied Poirot gravely. 'What
does he do, this Mr Parker?'
'He is a young man about town - not, perhaps, quite in the
swim, if I may so express myself.'
'How did he come to be a friend of yours, may I ask?'
'Well - er - on one or two occasions he has - performed certain
little commissions for me.'
'Continue, monsieur,' said Poirot.
Hardman looked piteously at him. Evidently the last thing he
wanted to do was to continue. But as Poirot maintained an
inexorable silence, he capitulated.
'You see, Monsieur Poirot - it is well known that I am interested
in antique jewels. Sometimes there is a family heirloom to be
disposed of- which, mind you, would never be sold in the open
market or to a dealer. But a private sale to me is a very different
matter. Parker arranges the details of such things, he is in touch
with both sides, and thus any little embarrassment is avoided. He
brings anything of that kind to my notice. For instance, the
Countess Rossakoff has brought some family jewels with her from
Russia. She is anxious to sell them. Bernard Parker was to have
arranged the transaction.'
'I see,' said Poirot thoughtfully. 'And you trust him implicitly?'
'I have had no reason to do otherwise.'
'Mr Hardman, of these four people, which do you yourself
suspect?'
'Oh, Monsieur Poirot, what a questionl They are my friends,
as I told you. I suspect none of them - or all of them, whichever
way you like to put it.'
'I do not agree. You suspect one of those four. It is not Countess
Rossakoff. It is not Mr Parker. Is it Lady Runcorn or Mr Johnston?'
'You drive me into a corner, Monsieur Poirot, you do indeed. I
am most anxious to have no scandal. Lady Runcorn belongs to

61


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


one of the oldest families in England; but it is true, it is mot
unfortunately true, that her aunt, Lady Caroline, suffered from a
most melancholy affliction. It was understood, of course, by all her
friends, and her maid returned the teaspoons, or whatever it was,
as promptly as possible. You see my predicamentl'

'So Lady Runcorn had an aunt who was a kleptomaniac? Very
interesting. You permit that I examine the safe?'

Mr Hardman assenting, Poirot pushed back the door of the safe
and examined the interior. The empty velvet-lined shelves gaped
at us.

'Even now the door does not shut properly,' murmured Poirot,
as he swung it to and fro. 'I wonder why? Ah, what have we here?

A glove, caught in the hinge. A man's glove.'

He held it out to Mr Hardman.

'That's not one of my gloves,' the latter declared.

'Ahal Something morel' Poirot bent deftly and picked up a
small object from the floor of the safe. It was a flat cigarette case
made of black moire.

'My cigarette casei' cried Mr Hardman.

'Yours? Surely not, monsieur. Those are not your initials.'

He pointed to an entwined monogram of two letters executed in
platinum.

Hardman took it in his hand.

'You are right,' he declared. 'It is very like mine, but the initials
are different. A 'B' and a 'P'. Good heavens - Parkerl'

'It would seem so,' said Poirot. 'A somewhat careless young
man - especially if the glove is his also. That would be a double
clue, would it not?'

'Bernard Parker!' murmured Hardman. 'What a reliefl Well,
Monsieur Poirot, I leave it to you to recover the jewels. Place the
matter in the hands of the police if you think fit - that is, if you
are quite sure that it is he who is guilty.'


'See you, my friend,' said Poirot to me, as we left the house
together, 'he has one law for the titled, and another law for the
plain, this Mr Hardman. Me, I have not yet been ennobled, so I
am on the side of the plain. I have sympathy for this young man.


62


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


The whole thing was a little curious, was it not? There was
Hardman suspecting Lady Runcorn; there was I, suspecting the
Countess and Johnston; and all the time, the obscure Mr Parker
was our man.'

'Why did you suspect the other two?'

'ParbleuI It is such a simple thing to be a Russian refugee or a
South African millionaire. Any woman can call herself a Russian
countess; anyone can buy a house in Park Lane and call himself a
South African millionaire. Who is going to contradict them? But
I observe that we are passing through Bury Street. Our careless
young friend lives here. Let us, as you say, strike while the iron is
in the fire.'

Mr Bernard Parker was at home. We found him reclining on
some cushions, clad in an amazing dressing-gown of purple and
orange. I have seldom taken a greater dislike to anyone than I did
to this particular young man with his white, effeminate face and
affected lisping speech.

'Good morning, monsieur,' said Poirot briskly. 'I come from
Mr Hardman. Yesterday, at the party, somebody has stolen all his
jewels. Permit me to ask you, monsieur - is this your glove?'

Mr Parker's mental processes did not seem very rapid. He

stared at the glove, as though gathering his wits together.
'Where did you find it?' he asked at last.
'Is it your glove, monsieur?'

Mr Parker appeared to make up his mind.

'No, it isn't,' he declared.

'And this cigarette case, is that yours?'

'Certainly not. I always carry a silver one.'

'Very well, monsieur. I go to put matters in the hands of the
police.'

'Oh, I say, I wouldn't do that if I were you,' cried Mr Parker
in some concern. 'Beastly unsympathetic people, the police. Wait
a bit. I'll go round and see old Hardman. Look here - oh, stop a
minute.'

But Poirot beat a determined retreat.

'We have given him something to think about, have we not?' he
chuckled. 'Tomorrow we will observe what has occurred.'


63


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


But we were destined to have a reminder of the Hardmon case
that afternoon. Without the least warning the door flew open, and
a whirlwind in human form invaded our privacy, bringing with
her a swirl of sables (it was as cold as only an English June day
can be) and a hat rampant with slaughtered ospreys. Countess
Vera Rossakoff was a somewhat disturbing personality.

'You are Monsieur Poirot? What is this that you have done?
You accuse that poor boyl It is infamous. It is scandalous. I know
him. He is a chicken, a lamb - never would he steal. He has done
everything for me. Will I stand by and see him martyred and
butchered?'

'Tell me, madame, is this his cigarette case?' Poirot held out the
black moir case.

The Countess paused for a moment while she inspected it.
'Yes, it is his. I know it well. What of it? Did you find it in the
room? We were all there; he dropped it then, I suppose. Ah, you

policemen, you are worse than the Red Guards - '

'And is this his glove?'

'How should I know? One glove is like another. Do not try to
stop me - he must be set free. His character must be cleared. You

shall do it. I will sell my jewels and give you much money.'
'Madame - '

'It is agreed, then? No, no, do not argue. The poor boy! He
came to me, the tears in his eyes. "I will save you," I said. "I will
go to this man - this ogre, this monsterl Leave it to Vera." Now
it is settled, I go.'

With as little ceremony as she had come, she swept from the
room, leaving an overpowering perfume of an exotic nature
behind her.

'What a woman? I exclaimed. 'And what fursl'

'Ah, yes, they were genuine enoughl Could a spurious countess
have real furs? My little joke, Hastings... No, she is truly Russian,

I fancy. Well, well, so Master Bernard went bleating to her.'
'The cigarette case is his. I wonder if the glove is also - '

With a smile Poirot drew from his pocket a second glove and
placed it by the fixst. There was no doubt of their being a pair.

'Where did you get the second one. Poirot?'


64


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'It was thrown down with a stick on the table in the hall in
Bury Street. Truly, a very careless young man, Monsieur Parker.
Well, well, rnon ami- we must be thorough. Just for the form of
the thing, I will make a little visit to Park Lane.'
Needless to say, I accompanied my friend. Johnston was out,
but we saw his private secretary. It transpired that Johnston had
only recently arrived from South Africa. He had never been in
England before.
'He is interested in precious stones, is he not?' hazarded Poirot.
'Gold mining is nearer the mark,' laughed the secretary.
Poirot came away from the interview thoughtful. Late that
evening, to my utter surprise, I found him earnestly studying a
Russian grammar.
'Good heavens, Poirotl' I cried. 'Are you learning Russian in
order to converse with the Countess in her own language?'
'She certainly would not listen to my English, my friendl'
'But surely, Poirot, well-born Russians invariably speak French?'
'You are a mine of information, Hastingst I will cease puzzling
over the intricacies of the Russian alphabet.'
He threw the book from him with a dramatic gesture. I was
not entirely satisfied. There was a twinkle in his eye which I knew
of old. It was an invariable sign that Hercule Poirot was pleased
with himself.
'Perhaps,' I said sapiently, 'you doubt her being really a
Russian. You are going to test her?'
'Ah, no, no, she is Russian all right.'
'Well, then '
'If you really want to distinguish yourself over this case,
Hastings, I recommend First Steps in Russian as an invaluable aid.'
Then he laughed and would say no more. I picked up the book
from the floor and dipped into it curiously, but could make
neither head nor tail of Poirot's remarks.
The following morning brought us no news of any kind, but
that did not seem to worry my little friend. At breakfast, he
announced his intention of calling upon Mr Hardman early in
the day. We found the elderly society butterfly at home, and
seemingly a little calmer than on the previous day.

65


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'Well, Monsieur Poirot, any news?' he demanded eagerly.
Poirot handed him a slip of paper.

'That is the person who took the jewels, monsieur. Shall I put
matters in the hands of the police? Or would you prefer me
to recover the jewels without bringing the police into the
matter?'

Mr Hardman was staring at the paper. At last he found his
voice.

'Most astonishing. I should infinitely prefer to have no scandal
in the matter. I give you carte blanche, Monsieur Poirot. I am sure
you will be discreet.'

Our next procedure was to hail a taxi, which Poirot ordered to
drive to the Carlton. There he inquired for Countess Rossakoff.
In a few minutes we were ushered up into the lady's suite. She
came to meet us with outstretched hands, arrayed in a marvellous
neglig6e of barbaric design.

'Monsieur Poirot? she cried. 'You have succeeded? You have
cleared that poor infant?'

'Madame la Comtesse, your friend Mr Parker is perfectly safe
from arrest.'

'Ah, but you are the clever little manl Superbl And so quickly
too.'

'On the other hand, I have promised Mr Hardman that the

jewels shall be returned to him today.'

'So?'

'Therefore, madame, I should be extremely obliged if you
would place them in my hands without delay. I am sorry to hurry
you, but I am keeping a taxi - in case it should be necessary for
me to go on to Scotland Yard; and we Belgians, madame, we
practise the thrift.'

The Countess had lighted a cigarette. For some seconds she sat
perfectly still, blowing smoke rings, and gazing steadily at Poirot.
Then she burst into a laugh, and rose. She went across to the
bureau, opened a drawer, and took out a black silk handbag. She
toesed it lightly to Poirot. Her tone, when she spoke, was perfectly
light and unmoved.

'We Russians, on the contrary, practise prodigality,' she said.


66


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'And to do that, unfortunately, one must have money. You need
not look inside. They are all there.'
Poirot arose.
'I congratulate you, madame, on your quick intelligence and
your promptitude.'
'Ah! But since you were keeping your taxi waiting, what else
could I do?'
'You are too amiable, madame. You are remaining long in
London?'
'I am afraid not - owing to you.'
'Accept my apologies.'
'We shall meet again elsewhere, perhaps.'
'I hope so.'
'And I - do not? exclaimed the Countess with a laugh. 'It is a
great compliment that I pay you there - there are very few men
in the world whom I fear. Goodbye, Monsieur Poirot.'
'Goodbye, Madame la Comtesse. Ah - pardon me, I forgotl
Allow me to return you your cigarette case.'
And with a bow he handed to her the little black moir case we
had found in the safe. She accepted it without any change of
expression - just a lifted eyebrow and a murmured: 'I seel'

'What a woman? cried Poirot enthusiastically as we descended the
stairs. 'Mon /]hu, quelle femrnel Not a word of argument - of
protestation, of bluff! One quick glance, and she had sized up the
position correctly. I tell you, Hastings, a woman who can accept
defeat like that - with a careless smile - will go far! She is dangerous,
she has the nerves of steel; she - ' He tripped heavily.
'If you can manage to moderate your transports and look where
you're going, it might be as well,' I suggested. 'When did you
first suspect the Countess?'
'Mon ami, it was the glove and the cigarette case - the double
clue, shall we say? - that worried me. Bernard Parker might easily
have dropped one or the other - but hardly both. Ah, no, that
would have been too carelessl In the same way, if someone else
had placed them there to incriminate Parker, one would have
been sufficient - the cigarette case or the glove - again not both.

67


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

80 I was forced to the conclusion that one of the two things did not belong to Parker. I imagined at first that the case was his, and
that the glove was not. But when I discovered the fellow to the
glove, I saw that it was the other way about. Whose, then, was the
cigarette case? Clearly, it could not belong to Lady Runcorn.
The initials were wrong. Mr Johnston? Only if he were here under
a false name. I interviewed his secretary, and it was apparent at
once that everything was clear and aboveboard. There was no
reticence about Mr Johnston's past. The Countess, then? She was
supposed to have brought jewels with her from Russia; she had
only to take the stones from their settings, and it was extremely
doubtful if they could ever be identified. What could be easier for
her than to pick up one of Parker's gloves from the hall that day
and thrust it into the safe? But, bien vfr, she did not intend to
drop her own cigarette case.'
'But if the case was hers, why did it have "B.P." on it? The
Countess's initials are V.R.'
Poirot smiled gently upon me.
'Exactly, tnon ami; but in the Russian alphabet, B is V and
Pis R.'
'Well, you couldn't expect me to guess that. I don't know
Russian.'
'Neither do I, Hastings. That is why I bought my little book and
urged it on your attention.'
He sighed.
'A remarkable woman. I have a feeling, my friend - a very
decided feeling - I shall meet her again. Where, I wonder?'

68


CHAPTER VI

THE KING OF CLUBS

'Truth,' I observed, laying aside the Daily Nervrraonger, 'is
stranger than fiction?
The remark was not, perhaps, an original one. It appeared to
incense my friend. Tilting his egg-shaped head on one side, the
little man carefully flicked an imaginary fleck of dust from his
carefully creased trousers, and observed: 'How profoundt What a
thinker is my friend Hastingsl'
Without displaying any annoyance at this quite uncalled-for
gibe, I tapped the sheet I had laid aside.
'You've read this morning's paper?'
'I have. And after reading it, I folded it anew symmetrically.
I did not cast it on the floor as you have done, with your so
lamentable absence of order and method.'
(That is the worst of Poirot. Order and Method are his gods.
He goes so far as to attribute all his success to them.)
'Then you saw the account of the murder of Henry Reedburn,
the impresario? It was that which prompted my remark. Not only
is truth stranger than fiction - it is more dramatic. Think of that
solid middle-class English family, the Oglanders. Father and
mother, son and daughter, typical of thousands of families all over
this country. The men of the family go to the city every day; the
women look after the house. Their lives are perfectly peaceful,
and utterly monotonous. Last night they were sitting in their neat
suburban drawing-room at Daisymead, Streatham, playing bridge.
Suddenly, without any warning, the french window bursts open,
and a woman staggers into the room. Her grey satin frock is marked
with a crimson stain. She utters one word, "Murder!" before she
sinks to the ground insensible. It is possible that they recognize
her from her pictures as Valerie Saintclair, the famous dancer who
has lately taken London by storm!'

69


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'Is this your eloquence, or that of the Daily Newsmonger?' inquired Poirot.
'The Daily Newsmonger was in a hurry to go to press, and
contented itself with bare facts. But the dramatic possibilities of
the story struck me at once.'
Poirot nodded thoughtfully. 'Wherever there is human nature,
there is drama. But - it is not always just where you think it is.
Remember that. Still, I too am interested in the case, since it is
likely that I shall be connected with it.'
'Indeed?'
'Yes. A gentleman rang me up this morning, and made an
appointment with me on behalf of Prince Paul of Maurania.'
'But what has that to do with it?'
'You do not read your pretty little English scandal-papers. The
ones with the funny stories, and % little mouse has heard -" or "a little bird would like to know -" See here.'
I followed his short stubby finger along the paragraph: ' - whether the foreign prince and the famous dancer are really affinities! And if the lady likes her new diamond ringl'
'And now to resume your so dramatic narrative,' said Poirot.
'Mademoiselle Saintclair had just fainted on the drawing-room
carpet at Daisymead, you remember.'
I shrugged. 'As a result of Mademoiselle's first murmured
words when she came round, the two male Oglanders stepped out,
one to fetch a doctor to attend to the lady, who was evidently
suffering terribly from shock, and the other to the police-station whence
after telling his story, he accompanied the police to Mort
Dsir, Mr Reedburn's magnificent villa, which is situated at no
great distance from Daisymead. There they found the great man,
who by the way suffers from a somewhat unsavoury reputation,
lying in the library with the back of his head cracked open like an
eggshell.'
'I have cramped your style,' said Poirot kindly. 'Forgive me, I
pray... Ah, here is M. le Prince?
Our distinguished visitor was announced under the title of
Count Feodor. He was a strange-looking youth, tall, eager, with a

TO


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


weak chin, the famous Mauranberg mouth, and the dark fiery

eyes of a fanatic.

'M. Poirot?'

My friend bowed.

'Monsieur, I am in terrible trouble, greater than I can well
express - '

Poirot waved his hand. 'I comprehend your anxiety. Mademois-elle
Saintclair is a very dear friend, is it not so?'

The Prince replied simply: 'I hope to make her my wife.'
Poirot sat up in his chair, and his eyes opened.

The Prince continued: 'I should not be the first of my family
to make a morganatic marriage. My brother Alexander has also
defied the Emperor. We are living now in more enlightened days,
free from the old caste-prejudice. Besides, Mademoiselle Saint-clair,
in actual fact, is quite my equal in rank. You have heard hints
as to her history?'

'There are many romantic stories of her origin - not an un-common
thing with famous dancers. I have heard that she is the
daughter of an Irish charwoman, also the story which makes her
mother a Russian grand duchess.'

'The first story is, of course, nonsense,' said the young man.
'But the second is true. Valerie, though bound to secrecy, has let
me guess as much. Besides, she proves it unconsciously in a
thousand ways. I believe in heredity, M. Poirot.'

'I oo believe in heredity,' said Poirot thoughtfully. 'I have seen
some strange things in connection with it - mol qui oou parle...
But to business, M. le Prince. What do you want of me? What do
you fear? I may speak freely, may I not? Is there anything to
connect Mademoiselle Saintclair with the crime? She knew
Reedburn of course?'

'Yes. He professed to be in love with her.'

'And she?'

'She would have nothing to say to him.'

Poirot looked at him keenly. 'Had she any reason to fear him?'

The young man hesitated. 'There was an incident. You know
Zara, the clairvoyant?'

'NO,'


71


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'She is wonderful. You should consult her some time. Valerie
and I went to see her last week. She read the cards for us. She
spoke to Valerie of trouble - of gathering clouds; then she turned
up the last card - the covering card, they call it. It was the king
of clubs. She said to Valerie: "Beware. There is a man who holds
you in his power. You fear him - you are in great danger through
him. You know whom I mean?" Valerie was white to the lips.
She nodded and said: "Yes, yes, I know." Shortly afterwards we
left. Zara's last words to Valerie were: "Beware of the king of
clubs. Danger threatens you!" I questioned Valerie. She would
tell me nothing - assured me that all was well. But now, after last
night, I am more sure than ever that in the king of clubs Valerie
saw Reedburn, and that he was the man she feared.'

The Prince paused abruptly. 'Now you understand my agitation
when I opened the paper this morning. Supposing Valerie, in a
fit of madness - oh, it is impossible?

Poirot rose from his seat, and patted the young man kindly on
the shoulder. 'Do not distress yourself, I beg of you. Leave it in
my hands.'

'You will go to Streatham? I gather she is still there, at Daisy
mead
- prostrated by the shock.'

'I will go at once.'

'I have arranged matters - through the embassy. You will be
allowed access everywhere.'

'Then we will depart - Hastings, you will accompany me? Au
revoir, M. le Prince.'


Mon Ddsir was an exceptionally fine villa, thoroughly modern
and comfortable. A short carriage-drive led upto it from the road,
and beautiful gardens extended behind the house for some acres.

On mentioning Prince Paul's name, the butler who answered
the door at once took us to the scene of the tragedy. The library
was a magnificent room, running from back to front of the whole
building, with a window at either end, one giving on the front
carriage-drive, and the other on the garden. It was in the recess
of the latter that the body had lain. It had been removed not long
before, the police having concluded their examination.


72


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'That is annoying,' I murmured to Poirot. 'Who knows what
clues they may have destroyed?'

My little friend smiled. 'Eh - eh! How often must I tell you
that dues come from oithin? In the little grey cells of the brain
lies the solution of every mystery.'

He turned to the butler. 'I suppose, except for the removal of
the body, the room has not been touched?'

'No, sir. It's just as it was when the police came up last
night.'

'These curtains, now. I see they pull right across the window-recess.
They are the same in the other window. Were they drawn
last night?'

'Yes, sir. I draw them every night.'

'Then Reedburn must have drawn them back himself?'

'I suppose so, sir.'

'Did you know your master expected a visitor last night?'

'He did not say so, sir. But he gave orders he was not to be
disturbed after dinner. You see, sir, there is a door leading out of
the library on to the terrace at the side of the house. He could
have admitted anyone that way.'

'Was he in the habit of doing that?'

The butler coughed discreetly. 'I believe so, sir.'

Poirot strode to the door in question. It was unlocked. He
stepped through it on to the terrace which joined the drive on the
right; on the left it led up to a red brick wall.

'The fruit garden, sir. There is a door leading into it farther
along, but it was always locked at six o'clock.'

Poirot nodded, and re-entered the library, the butler following.
'Did you hear nothing of last night's events?'

'Well, sir, we heard voices in the library, a little before nine.
But that wasn't unusual, especially being a lady's voice. But of
course, once we were all in the servants' hall, right the other side,
we didn't hear anything at all. And then, about eleven o'clock, the
police came.'

'How many voices did you hear?'

'I couldn't say, sir. I only noticed the lady's.'

'Ahl'


73


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'I beg pardon, sir, but Dr Ryan is still in the house, if you
would care to see him.'

We jumped at the suggestion, and in a few minutes the doctor,
a cheery, middle-aged man, joined us, and gave Poirot all the
information he required. Reedburn had been lying near the
window, his head by the marble window-seat. There were two
wounds, one between the eyes, and the other, the fatal one, on the
back of the head.

'He was lying on his back?'

'Yes. There is the mark.' He pointed to a small dark stain on
the floor.

'Could not the blow on the back of the head have been caused
by his striking the floor?'

'Impossible. Whatever the weapon was, it penetrated some
distance into the skull.'

Poirot looked thoughtfully in front of him. In the embrasure of
each window was a carved marble seat, the arms being fashioned
in the form of a lion's head. A light came into Poirot's eyes.
'Supposing he had fallen backward on this projecting lion's head,
and slipped from there to the ground. Would not that cause a
wound such as you describe?'

'Yes, it would. But the angle at which he was lying makes that
theory impossible. And besides, there could not fail to be traces

of blood on the marble of the seat.'

'Unless they were washed away?'

The doctor shrugged his shoulders. 'That is hardly likely. It
would be to no one's advantage to give an accident the appearance
of murder.'

'Quite so,' acquiesced Poirot. 'Could either of the blows have
been struck by a woman, do you think?'

'Oh, quite out of the question, I should say. You are thinking
of Mademoiselle Saintclair, I suppose?'

'I think of no one in particular until I am sure,' said Poirot
gently.

He turned his attention to the open french window, and the
doctor continued:

'It is through here that Mademoiselle Saintclair fled. You can


74


I

POIROT'S EARLY CASES

just catch a glimpse of Daisymead between the trees. Of course,
there are many houses nearer to the front of the house on the
road, but as it happens, Daisymead, though some distance away,
is the only house visible this side.'
'Thank you for your amiability, Doctor,' said Poirot. 'Come,
Hastings, we will follow the footsteps of Mademoiselle.'

Poirot led the way down through the garden, out through an iron
gate, across a short stretch of green and in through the garden
gate of Daisymead, which was an unpretentious little house in
about half an acre of ground. There was a small flight of steps
leading up to a french window. Poirot nodded in their direction.
'That is the way Mademoiselle Saintclair went. For us, who
have not her urgency to plead, it will be better to go round to the
front door.'
A maid admitted us and took us into the drawing-room, then
went in search of Mrs Oglander. The room had evidently not been
touched since the night before. The ashes were still in the grate,
and the bridge-table was still in the centre of the room, with a
dummy exposed, and the hands thrown down. The place was
somewhat overloaded with gimcrack ornaments, and a good many
family portraits of surpassing ugliness adorned the walls.
Poirot gazed at them more leniently than I did, and straightened
one or two that were hanging a shade askew. 'La famille, it is a
strong tie, is it not? Sentiment, it takes the place of beauty.'
I agreed, my eyes being fixed on a family group comprising a
gentleman with whiskers, a lady with a high 'front' of hair, a
stolid, thick-set boy, and two little girls tied up with a good many
unnecessary bows of ribbon. I took this to be the Oglander
family in earlier days, and studied it with interest.
The door opened, and a young woman came in. Her dark hair
was neatly arranged, and she wore a drab-coloured sportscoat
and a tweed skirt.
She looked at us inquiringly. Poirot stepped forward. 'Miss
Oglander? I regret to derange you - especially after all you have
been through. The whole affair must have been most disturbing.'
'It has been rather upsetting,' admitted the young lady

75


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


cautiously. I began to think that the elements of drama were
wasted on Miss Oglander, that her lack of imagination rose
superior to any tragedy. I was confirmed in this belief as she
continued: 'I must apologize for the state this room is in. Servants
get so foolishly excited.'

'It was here that you were sitting last night, n'est-ce pas?'
'Yes, we were playing bridge after supper, when - '
'Excuse me - how long had you been playing?'

'Well -' Miss Oglander considered. 'I really can't say. I suppose
it must have been about ten o'clock. We had had several rubbers,
I know.'

'And you yourself were sitting - where?'

'Facing the window. I was playing with my mother and had
gone one no trump. Suddenly, without any warning, the window

burst open, and Miss Saintclair staggered into the room.'

'You recognized her?'

'I had a vague idea her face was familiar.'

'She is still here, is she not?'

'Yes, but she refuses to see anyone. She is still quite prostrated.'

'I think she will see me. Will you tell her that I am here at the
express request of Prince Paul of Maurania?'

I fancied that the mention of a royal prince rather shook Miss
Oglander's imperturbable calm. But she left the room on her
errand without any further remark, and returned almost im-mediately
to say that Mademoiselle Saintclair would see us in her
room.

We followed her upstairs, and into a fair-sized light bedroom.
On a couch by the window a woman was lying who turned her
head as we entered. The contrast between the two women struck
me at once, the more so as in actual features and colouring they
were not unalike - but oh, the difference! Not a look, not a gesture
of Valerie Saintelair's but expressed drama. She seemed to exhale
an atmosphere of romance. A scarlet flannel dressing-gown
covered her feet - a homely garment in all conscience; but the
charm of her personality invested it with an exotic fiavour, and it
seemed an Eastern robe of glowing colour.

Her large dark eyes fastened themselves on Poirot.


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'You come from Paul?' Her voice matched her appearance - t
was full and languid.

'Yes, mademoiselle. I am here to serve him - and you.'
'What do you want to know?'

'Everything that happened last night. But everythingl'

She smiled rather wearily.

'Do you think I should lie? I am not stupid. I see well enough
that there can be no concealment. He held a secret of mine, that
man who is dead. He threatened me with it. For Paul's sake, I
endeavoured to make terms with him. I could not risk losing Paul
·.. Now that he is dead, I am safe. But for all that, I did not
kill him.'

Poirot shook his head with a smile. 'It is not necessary to tell
me that, mademoiselle. Now recount to me what happened last
night.'

'I offered him money. He appeared to be willing to treat with
me. He appointed last night at nine o'clock. I was to go to Mort
D6sir. I knew the place; I had been there before. I was to go round
to the side door into the library, so that the servants should not
see me.'

'Excuse me, mademoiselle, but were you not afraid to trust
yourself alone there at night?'

Was it my fancy, or was there a momentary pause before she
answered?

'Perhaps I was. But you see, there was no one I could ask to go
with me. And I was desperate. Reedburn admitted me to the
library. Oh, that manl I am glad he is dead! He played with me,
as a cat does with a mouse. He taunted me. I begged and implored
him on my knees. I offered him every jewel I have. All in vain!
Then he named his own terms. Perhaps you can guess what they
were. I refused. I told him what I thought of him. I raved at him.
He remained calmly smiling. And then, as I fell to silence at last,
there was a sound - from behind the curtain in the window...
He heard it too. He strode to the curtains and flung them wide
apart. There was a man there, hiding - a dreadful-looking man, a
sort of tramp. He struck at Mr Reedburn - then he struck again,
and he went down. The tramp clutched at me with his bloodstained


77


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


hand. I tore myself free, slipped through the window, and ran for
my life. Then I perceived the lights in this house, and made for
them. The blinds were up, and I saw some people playing bridge.
I almost fell into the room. I just managed to gasp out "Murder!"
and then everything went black - '

'Thank you, mademoiselle. It must have been a great shock to
your nervous system. As to this tramp, could you describe him?
Do you remember what he was wearing?'

'No - it was all so quick. But I should know the man anywhere.
His face is burnt in on my brain.'

'Just one more question, mademoiselle. The curtains of the
other window, the one giving on the drive, were they drawn?'

For the first time a puzzled expression crept over the dancer's

face. She seemed to be trying to remember.

'Eh bien, mademoiselle?'

'I think - I am almost sure - yes, quite sure! They were not
drawn.'

'That is curious, since the other ones were. No matter. It is, I
dare say, of no great importance. You are remaining here long,
mademoiselle?'

'The doctor thinks I shall be fit to return to town tomorrow.'
She looked round the room. Miss Oglander had gone out. 'Thee
people, they are very kind - but they are not of my world. I 8hock

them! And to me - well, I am not fond of the bourgeoisiel'

A faint note of bitterness underlay her words.

Poirot nodded. 'I understand. I hope I have not fatigued you
unduly with my questions?'

'Not at all, monsieur. I am only too anxious Paul should know
all as soon as possible.'

'Then I will wish you good day, mademoiselle.'

As Poirot was leaving the room, he paused, and pounced on a
pair of patent-leather slippers. 'Yours, mademoiselle?'

'Yes, monsieur. They have just been cleaned and brought up.'
'Ah!' said Poirot, as we descended the stairs. 'It seems that the
domestics are not too excited to clean shoes, though they forget a
grate. Well, rnon ami, at first there appeared to be one or two points
of interest, but I fear, I very much fear, that we must regard


78


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

the case as finished. It all seems straightforward enouth.'
'And the murderer?'
'Hercule Poirot does not hunt down tramps,' replied my fried
grandiloquently.

Miss Oglander met us in the hall. 'If you will wait in the drawig-room
a minute, Mamma would like to speak to you.'
The room was still untouched, and Poirot idly gathered upthe
cards, shuffling them with his tiny, fastidiously groomed han&
'Do you know. what I think, my friend?'
'No?' I said eagerly.
'I think that Miss Oglander made a mistake in going one ao
trump. She should have gone three spades.'
'Poirott You are the limit.'
'Mon Dieu, I cannot always be talking blood and thunderl'
Suddenly he stiffenet: 'Hastings - Hastings. Seel The king of
clubs is missing from the pack]'
'garal' I cried.
'Eh?' He did not seem to understand my allusion. Mechanically
he stacked the cards and put them away in their cases. His face
was very grave.
'Hastings,' he said at last, 'I, Hercule Poirot, have come near
to making a big mistake - a very big mistake.'
I gazed at him, impressed, but utterly uncomprehending.
'We must begin again, Hastings. Yes, we must begin again.
But this time we shall not err.'
He was interrupted by the entrance of a handsome middle-aged
lady. She carried some household books in her hand. P0irot
bowed to her.
'Do I understand, sir, that you are a friend of - er -8aintdair's?'
'I come from a friend of hers, madame.'
'Oh, I see. I thought perhaps - '
Poirot suddenly waved brusquely at the window.
'Your blinds were not pulled down last night?'
'No - I suppose that is why Miss Saintclair saw the light
plainly.'

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'There was moonlight last night. I wonder that you did not see
Mademoiselle Saintclair from your seat here facing the windows?'

'I suppose we were engrossed with our game. Nothing like this
has ever happened before to us.'

'I can quite believe that, madame. And I will put your mind at

rest. Mademoiselle Saintclair is leaving tomorrow.'

'Oh!' The good lady's face cleared.

'And I will wish you good morning, madame.'

A servant was cleaning the steps as we went out of the front
door. Poirot addressed her.

'Was it you who cleaned the shoes of the young lady upstairs?'

The maid shook her head. 'No, sir. I don't think they've been
cleaned.'

'Who cleaned them, then?' I inquired of Poirot, as we walked
down the road.

'Nobody. They did not need cleaning.'

'I grant that walking on the road or path on a fine night would
not soil them. But surely after going through the long grass of the
garden, they would have been soiled and stained.'

'Yes,' said Poirot with a curi(us smile. 'In that case, I agree,

they would have been stained.'

'But - '

'Have patience a little half-hour, my friend. We are going back
to Mon Dsir.'


The butler looked surprised at our reappearance, but offered no
objection to our returning to the library.

'Hi, that's the wrong window, Poirot,' I cried as he made for
the one overlooking the carriage-drive.

'I think not, my friend. See here.' He pointed to the marble
lion's head. On it was a faint discoloured smear. He shifted his
finger and pointed to a similar stain on the polished floor.

'Some one struck Reedburn a blow with his clenched fist
between the eyes. He fell backward on this projecting bit of marble,
then slipped to the floor. Afterwards, he was dragged across the
floor to the other window, and laid there instead, but not quite at
the same angle, as the Doctor's evidence told us.'


8O


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'But why? It seems utterly unnecessary.'
'On the contrary, it was essential. Also, it is the key to the
murderer's identity - though, by the way, he had no intention of
killing Reedburn, and so it is hardly permissible to call him a
murderer. He must be a very strong manl'
'Because of having dragged the body across the floor?'
'Not altogether. It has been an interesting case. I nearly made
an imbecile of myself, though.'
'Do you mean to say it is over, that you know everything?'
'Yes.'
A remembrance smote me. 'No,' I cried. 'There is one thing
you do not know!'
'And that?'
'You do not know where the missing king of clubs isl'
'Eh? Oh, that is droll! That is very droll, my friend.'
'Why?'
'Because it is in my pocketl' He drew it forth with a flourish.
'Ohl' I said, rather crestfallen. 'Where did you find it?
Here?'
'There was nothing sensational about it. It had simply not been
taken out with the other cards. It was in the box.'
'H'm All the same, it gave you an idea, didn't it?'
'Yes, my friend. I present my respects to His Majesty.'
'And to Madame Zaral'
'Ah, yes - to the lady also.'
'Well, what are we going to do now?'
'We are going to return to town. But I must have a few words
with a certain lady at Daisymead first.'
The same little maid opened the door to us.
'They're all at lunch now, sir - unless it's Miss $aintclair you
want to see, and she's resting.'
'It will do if I can see Mrs Oglander for a few minutes. Will you
tell her?'
We were led into the drawing-room to wait. I had a glimpse of
the family in the dining-room as we passed, now reinforced by the
presence of two heavy, solid-looking men, one with a moustache,
the other with a beard also.

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


In a few minutes Mrs Oglander came into the room, looking
inquiringly at Poirot, who bowed.

'Madame, we, in our country, have a great tenderness, a great

respect for the mother. The mi, re defamille, she is everything!'
Mrs Oglander looked rather astonished at this opening.

'It is for that reason that I have come - to allay a mother's
anxiety. The murderer of Mr Reedburn will not be discovered.
Have no fear. I, Hercule Poirot, tell you so. I am right, am I not?
Or is it a wife that I must reassure?'

There was a moment's pause. Mrs Oglander seemed searching
Poirot with her eyes. At last she said quietly: 'I don't know how
you know - but yes, you are right.'

Poirot nodded gravely. 'That is all, madame. But do not be
uneasy. Your English policemen have not the eyes of Hercule
Poirot.' He tapped the family portrait on the wall with his finger-nail.

'You had another daughter once. She is dead, madame?'

Again there was a pause, as she searched him with her eyes.
Then she answered: 'Yes, she is dead.'

'Ahl' said Poirot briskly. 'Well, we must return to town. You
permit that I return the king of clubs to the pack? It was your
only slip. You understand, to have played bridge for an hour or
so, with only fifty-one cards - well, no one who knows anything
of the game would credit it for a minute! Bonjourl'

'find now, my friend,' said Poirot as we stepped towards the
station, 'you see it all?

'I see nothing! Who killed Reedburn?'

'John Oglander, Junior. I was not quite sure if it was the father
or the son, but I fixed on the son as being the stronger and younger
of the two. It had to be one of them, because of the win-dow.'

'Why?'

'There were four exits from the library - two doors, two win-dows;
but evidently only one would do. Three exits gave on the
front, directly or indirectly. The tragedy had to occur in the back
window in order to make it appear that Valerie Saintclair came to
Daisymead by chance. Really, of course, she fainted, and John


82


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

Oglander carried her across over his shoulders. That is why I said
he must be a strong man.'
'Did they go there together, then?'
'Yes. You remember Valerie's hesitation when I asked her if
she was not afraid to go alone? John Oglander went with her which
didn't improve Reedburn's temper, I fancy. They quarrelled,
and it was probably some insult levelled at „alerie that made
Oglander hit him. The rest, you know.'
'But why the bridge?'
'Bridge presupposes four players. A simple thing like that
carries a lot of conviction. Who would have supposed that there
had been only three people in that room all the evening?'
I was still puzzled.
'There's one thing I don't understand. What have the Oglanders
to do with the dancer Valerie Saintclair?'
'Ah, that I wonder you did not see. And yet you looked long
enough at that picture on the wall - longer than I did. Mrs
Oglander's other daughter may be dead to her family, but the
world knows her as Valerie Saintclairl'
'What?'
'Did you not see the resemblance the moment you saw the two
sisters together?'
'No,' I confessed. 'I only thought how extraordinarily dissimilar
they were.'
'That is because your mind is so open to external romantic
impressions, my dear Hastings. The features are almost identical.
$o is the colouring. The interesting thing is that „alerie is ashamed
of her family, and her family is ashamed of her. Nevertheless, in
a moment of peril, she turned to her brother for help, and when
things went wrong, they all hung together in a remarkable way.
Family strength is a marvellous thing. They can all act, that
family. That is where Valerie gets her histrionic talent from. I,
like Prince Paul, believe in heredityl They deceived rnel But for a
lucky accident, and test question to Mrs Oglander by which I got
her to contradict her daughter's account of how they were sitting,
the Oglander family would have put a defeat on Hercule Poirot.'
'What shall you tell the Prince?'

83


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'That Valerie could not possibly have committed the crime,
and that I doubt if that tramp will ever be found. Also, to convey
my compliments to Zara. A curious coincidence, thatl I think I
shall call this little affair the Adventure of the King of Clubs.
What do you think, my friend?'


84


CHAPTER VII


THE LEMESURIER INHERITANCE


In company with Poirot, I have investigated many strange eases,
but none, I think, to compare with that extraordinary series of
events which held our interest over a period of many years, and
which culminated in the ultimate problem brought to Poirot to
solve. Our attention was first drawn to the family history of the
Lemesuriers one evening during the war. Poirot and I had but
recently come together again, renewing the old days of our
acquaintanceship in Belgium. He had been handling some little
matter for the War Office - disposing of it to their entire satisfac-tion;
and we had been dining at the Carlton with a Brass Hat who
paid Poirot heavy compliments in the intervals of the meal. The
Brass Hat had to rush away to keep an appointment with someone,
and we finished our coffee in a leisurely fashion before following
his example.

As we were leaving the room, I was hailed by a voice which
struck a familiar note, and turned to see Captain Vincent
Lemesurier, a young fellow whom I had known in France. He was
with an older man whose likeness to him proclaimed him to be
of the same family. Such proved to be the case, and he was
introduced to us as Mr Hugo Lemesurier, uncle of my young
friend.

I did not really know Captain Lemesurier at all intimately,
but he was a pleasant young fellow, somewhat dreamy in manner,
and I remembered hearing that he belonged to an old and exclusive
family with a property in Northumberland which dated from
before the Reformation. Poirot and I were not in a hurry, and at
the younger man's invitation, we sat down at the table with our
two new-found friends, and chattered pleasantly enough on various
matters. The elder Lemesurier was a man of about forty, with a
touch of the scholar in his stooping shoulders; he was engaged at


85


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

the moment upon some chemical research work for the Government,
it appeared.
Our conversation was interrupted by a tall dark young man
who strode up to the table, evidently labouring under some
agitation Of mind.
'Thank goodness I've found you bothl' he exclaimed.
'What's the matter, Roger?'
'Your guv'nor, Vincent. Bad fall. Young horse.' The rest
trailed off, as he drew the other aside.
In a few minutes our two friends had hurriedly taken leave of
us. Vincent Lemesurier's father had had a serious accident while
trying a young horse, and was not expected to live until morning.
Vincent had gone deadly white, and appeared almost stunned by the news. In a way, I was surprised - for from the few words he
had let fall on the subject while in France, I had gathered that he
and his father were not on particularly friendly terms, and so his display of filial feeling now rather astonished me.
The dark young man, who had been introduced to us as a
cousin, Mr Roger Lemesurier, remained behind, and we three
strolled out together.
'Rather a curious business, this,' observed the young man. 'It
would interest M. Poirot, perhaps. I've heard of you, you know, M. Poirot - from Higginson.' (Higginson was our Brass Hat friend.) 'He says you're a whale on psychology.'
'I study the psychology, yes,' admitted my friend cautiously.
'Did you see my cousin's face? He was absolutely bowled over,
wasn't he? Do you know why? A good old-fashioned family cursel
Would you care to hear about it?'
'It would be most kind of you to recount it to me.'
Roger Lemesurier looked at his watch.
'Lots of time. I'm meeting them at King's Cross. Well, M.
Poirot, the Lemesuriers are an old family. Way back in medieval
times, a Lemesurier became suspicious of his wife. He found the lady in a compromising situation. She swore that she was innocent,
but old Baron Hugo didn't listen. She had one child, a son - and he swore that the boy was no child of his and should never inherit.
I forget what he did - some pleasing medieval fancy like walling

86


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

up the mother and son alive; anyway, he killed them both, and
she died protesting her innocence and solemnly cursing the
Lemesuriers forever. No first-born son of a Lemesurier should
ever inherit - so the curse ran. Well, time passed, and the lady's
innocence was established beyond doubt. I believe that Hugo
wore a hair shirt and ended up his days on his knees in a monk's
cell. But the curious thing is that from that day to this, no firstborn
son ever has succeeded to the estate. It's gone to brothers, to
nephews, to second sons - never to the eldest born. Vincent's
father was the second of five sons, the eldest of whom died in
infancy. Of course, all through the war, Vincent has been convinced
that whoever else was doomed, he certainly was. But
strangely enough, his two younger brothers have been killed, and
he himself has remained unscathed.'
'An interesting family history,' said Poirot thoughtfully. 'But
now his father is dying, and he, as the eldest son, succeeds?'
'Exactly. A curse has gone rusty - unable to stand the strain of
modern life.'
Poirot shook his head, as though deprecating the other's jesting
tone. Roger Lemesurier looked at his watch again, and declared
that he must be off.
The sequel to the story came on the morrow, when we learned
of the tragic death of Captain Vincent Lemesurier. He had been
travelling north by the Scotch mail-train, and during the night
must have opened the door of the compartment and jumped out
on the line. The shock of his father's accident coming on top of
shell-shock was deemed to have caused temporary mental aberration.
The curious superstition prevalent in the Lemesurier family
was mentioned, in connection with the new heir, his father's
brother, Ronald Lemesurier, whose only son had died on the
Somme.
I suppose our accidental meeting with young Vincent on the
last evening of his life quickened our interest in anything that
pertained to the Lemesurier family, for we noted with some
interest two years later the death of Ronald Lemesurier, who had
been a confirmed invalid at the time of his succession to the family

87


POIROT'S EARLY CASE.*.SES
estates. His brother John succeeded him, a, a hale, hearty man with
a boy at Eton.
Certainly an evil destiny overadowedt,ed the Lemesuriers. On
hi very next holiday the boy managed to to shoot himself fatally.
Hia father's death, which occurred quite iite suddenly after being
stung by a wasp, gave the estate over to tl 0 the youngest brother of
the five - Hugo, whom we remembered me,neeting on the fatal night
at the Carlton.
Beyond commenting on the extraordinary, nary series of misfortunes
which befell the Lemesuriers, we had takeaken no personal interest
in the matter, but the time was now close :se at hand when we were
to take a more active part.

One morning 'Mrs Lemesurier' was annos0nounced. She was a tall,
active woman, possibly about thirty years qjrs of age, who conveyed
by her demeanour a great deal of dete:etermination and strong
common sense. She spoke with a faint tranansatlantic accent.
'M. Poirot? I am pleased to meet youvou' My husband, Hugo
Lemesurier, met you once many years age, ago, but you will hardly
remember the fact.'
'I recollect it perfectly, madame. It was as at the Carlton.'
'That's quite wonderful of you. NI. Poir.,oirot, I'm very worried.'
'What about, madame?'
'My elder boy - I've two boys, you kno-now' Ronald's eight, and
Gerald's six.'
'Proceed, madame: why shouId you bd be worried about little
Ronald?'
'M. Poirot, within the last six months he he has had three narrow
escapes from death: once from drowning - v, - when we were all down
at Cornwall this summer; once when he ::he fell from the nursery
window; and once from ptomaine poisoninlaing.,
Perhaps Poirot's face expressed rather to too eloquently what he
thought, for Mrs Lemesurier hurried on wi with hardly a moment's
pause: 'Of course I know you think I'm just gst a silly fool of a woman,
making mountains out of molehills.'
'No, indeed, madame. Any mother mighight be excused for being
upset at such occurrences, but I hardly see 'ee where I can be of any

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POIROT3 EARLY CASES

assistance to you. I am not /ebon D/eu to control the waves; for
the nursery window I should suggest some iron bars; and for the
food - what can equal a mother's care?'
'But why should these things happen to Ronald and not to
Gerald?'
'The chance, madame - le hasardl'
'You think so?'
'What do you think, madame - you and your husband?'
A shadow crossed Mrs Lemesurier's face.
'It's no good going to Hugo - he won't listen. As perhaps you
may have heard, there's supposed to be a curse on the family no
eldest son can succeed. Hugo believes in it. He's wrapped up
in the family history, and he's superstitious to the last degree.
When I go to him with my fears, he just says it's the curse, and
we can't escape it. But I'm from the States, M. Poirot, and over
there we don't believe much in curses. We like them as belonging
to a real high-toned old family - it gives a sort of cachet, don't you
know. I was just a musical comedy actress in a small part when
Hugo met me - and I thought his family curse was just too lovely
for words. That kind of thing's all right for telling round the fire
on a winter's evening, but when it comes to one's own children I
just adore my children, M. Poirot. I'd do anything for them.'
'So you decline to believe in the family legend, madame?'
'Can a legend saw through an ivy stem?'
'What is that you are saying, madame?' cried Poirot, an expression
of great astonishment on his face.
'I said, can a legend - or a ghost, if you like to call it that - saw
through an ivy stem? I'm not saying anything about Cornwall.
Any boy might go out too far and get into difficulties - though
Ronald could swim when he was four years old. But the ivy's
different. Both the boys were very naughty. They'd discovered
they could climb up and down by the ivy. They were always
doing it. One day - Gerald was away at the time - Ronald did it
once too often, and the ivy gave way and he fell. Fortunately he
didn't damage himself seriously. But I went out and examined
the ivy: it was cut through, M. Poirot - deliberately cut through.'
'It is very serious what you are telling me there, madame. Yo

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


say your younger boy was away from home at the moment?'
'Yes.'

'And at the time of the ptomaine poisoning, was he still away?'
'No, they were both there.'

'Curious,' murmured Poirot. 'Now, madame, who are the
inmates of your establishment?'

'Miss Saunders, the children's governess, and John Gardiner,
my husband's secretary - '

Mrs Lemesurier paused, as though slightly embarrassed.
'And who else, madame?'

'Major Roger Lemesurier, whom you also met on that night,
I believe, stays with us a good deal.'

'Ah, yes - he is a cousin, is he not?'

'A distant cousin. He does not belong to our branch of the
family. Still, I suppose now he is my husband's nearest relative.
He is a dear fellow, and we are all very fond of him. The boys
are devoted to him.'

'It was not he who taught them to climb up the ivy?'

'It might have been. He incites them to mischief often enough.'
'Madame, I apologize for what I said to you earlier. The danger
is real, and I believe that I can be of assistance. I propose that you
should invite us both to stay with you. Your husband will not
object?'

'Oh no. But he will believe it to be all of no use. It makes me
furious the way he just sits around and expects the boy to die.'

'Calm yourself, madame. Let us make our arrangements
methodically.'


Our arrangements were duly made, and the following day saw us
flying northward. Poirot was sunk in a reverie. He came out of it,
to remark abruptly: 'It was from a train such as this that Vincent
Lemesurier fell?'

He put a slight accent on the 'fell'.

'You don't suspect foul play there, surely?' I asked.

'Has it struck you, Hastings, that some of the Lemesurier deaths
were, shall we say, capable of being arranged? Take that of
Vincent, for instance. Then the Eton boy - an accident with a gun


9O


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

is always ambiguous. Supposing this child had fallen from the
nursery window and been dashed to death - what more natural
and unsuspicious? But why only the one child, Hastings? Who
profits by the death of the elder child? His younger brother, a
child of sevenl Absurdl'
'They mean to do away with the other later,' I suggested,
though with the vaguest ideas as to who 'they' were.
Poirot shook his head as though dissatisfied.
'Ptomaine poisoning,' he mused. 'Atropine will produce much
the same symptoms. Yes, there is need for our presence.'
Mrs Lemesurier welcomed us enthusiastically. Then she took
us to her husband's study and left us with him. He had changed a
good deal since I saw him last. His shoulders stooped more than
ever, and his face had a curious pale grey tinge. He listened while
Poirot explained our presence in the house.
'How exactly like Sadie's practical common sensei' he said at
last. 'Remain by all means, M. Poirot, and I thank you for
coming; but - what is written, is written. The way of the transgressor
is hard. We Lemesuriers/enow - none of us can escape the
doom.'
Poirot mentioned the sawn-through ivy, but Hugo seemed very
little impressed.
'Doubtless some careless gardener - yes, yes, there may be an
instrument, but the purpose behind is plain; and I will tell you
this, M. Poirot, it cannot be long delayed.'
Poirot looked at him attentively.
'Why do you say that?'
'Because I myself am doomed. I went to a doctor last year. I
am suffering from an incurable disease - the end cannot be much
longer delayed; but before I die, Ronald will be taken. Gerald
ill inherit.'
'And if'anything were to happen to your second son also?'
'Nothing will happen to him; he is not threatened.'
'But if it did?' persisted Poirot.
'My cousin Roger is the next heir.'
We were interrupted. A tall man with a good figure and
crisply curling auburn hair entered with a sheaf of paper.

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'Never mind about those now, Gardiner,' said Hugo Lemesuder;
then he added: 'My secretary, Mr Gardiner.'
The secretary bowed, uttered a few pleasant words and then
went out. In spite of his good looks, there was something repellent
about the man. I said so to Poirot shortly afterwards when we were
walking round the beautiful old grounds together, and rather to
my surprise, he agreed.
'Yes, yes, Hastings, you are right. I do not like him. He is too
good-looking. He would be one for the soft job always. Ah, here
are the children.'
Mrs Lemesurier was advancing towards us, her two children
beside her. They were fine-looking boys, the younger dark like his
mother, the elder with auburn curls. They shook hands prettily
enough, and were soon absolutely devoted to Poirot. We were
next introduced to Miss Saunders, a nondescript female, who
completed the party.

For some days we had a pleasant, easy existence - ever vigilant,
but without result. The boys led a happy normal life and nothing
seemed to be amiss. On the fourth day after our arrival Major
Roger Lemesurier came down to stay. He was little changed, still
care-free and debonair as of old, with the same habit of treating
all things lightly. He was evidently a great favourite with the boys,
who greeted his arrival with shrieks of delight and immediately
dragged him off to play wild Indians in the garden. I noticed that
Poirot followed them unobtrusively.

On the following day we were all invited to tea, boys included,
with Lady Claygate, whose place adjoined that of the Lemesuriers.
Mrs Lemesurier suggested that we also should come, but seemed
rather relieved when Poirot refused and declared he would much
prefer to remain at home.
Once everyone had started, Poirot got to work. He reminded
me of an intelligent terrier. I believe that there was no corner of
the house that he left unsearched; yet it was all done so quietly
and methodically that no attention was directed to his movements.

92


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

Clearly, at the end, he remained unsatisfied. We had tea on the
terrace with Mis Sannders, who had not been included in the
party.
'The boys will enjoy it,' she murmured in her faded way,
'though I hope they will behave nicely, and not damage the
flower-beds, or go near the bees -'
Poirot paused in the very act of drinking. He looked like a man
who has seen a ghost.
'Bees?' he demanded in a voice of thunder.
'Yes, ]VI. Poirot, bees. Three hives. Lady Claygate is very proud
of her bees '
'Bees?' cried Poirot again. Then he sprang from the table and
walked up and down the terrace with his hands to his head. I
could not imagine why the little man should be so agitated at the
mere mention of bees.
At that moment we heard the car returning. Poirot was on the
doorstep a the party alighted.
'Ronaid's been stung,' cried Gerald excitedly.
'It's nothing,' said Mrs Lemesuricr. '!t hasn't even swollen.
We put ammonia on it.'
'Let me see, my little man,' said Poirot. 'Where wa it?'
'Here, on the side of my neck,' said Ronald importantly. 'But
it doesn't hurt. Father said: "Keep still - there's a bee on you."
And I kept still, and he took it off, but it stung me first, though it
didn't really hurt, only like a pin, and I didn't cry, because I'm
so big and going to school next year.'
Poirot examined the child's neck, then drew away again. He
took me by the arm and murmured:
'Tonight, moa ami, tonight we have a little affair onl Say nothing - to anyone.'
He refused to be more communicative, and I went through the
evening devoured by curiosity. He retired early and I followed his
example. As we went upstairs, he caught me by the arm and
delivered his instructions:
'Do not undress. Wait a sufficient time, extinguish your light
and join me here.'
I obeyed, and found him waiting for me when the time came.

93


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

He enjoined silence on me with a gesture, and we crept quietly
along the nursery wing. Ronald occupied a small room of his
own. We entered it and took up our position in the darkest
corner. The child's breathing sounded heavy and undisturbed.
'Surely he is sleeping very heavily?' I whispered.
Poirot nodded.
'Drugged,' he murmured.
'Why?'
'So that he should not cry out at - '
'At what?' I asked, as Poirot paused.
'At the prick of the hypodermic needle, mon ami! Hush, let us
speak no more - not that I expect anything to happen for some
time.'

But in this Poirot was wrong. Hardly ten minutes had elapsed
before the door opened softly, and someone entered the room. I
heard a sound of quick hurried breathing. Footsteps moved to
the bed, and then there was a sudden click. The light of a little
electric lantern fell on the sleeping child - the holder of it was still
invisible in the shadow. The figure laid down the lantern. With
the right hand it brought forth a syringe; with the left it touched
the boy's neck -
Poirot and I sprang at the same minute. The lantern rolled to
the floor, and we struggled with the intruder in the dark. His
strength was extraordinary. At last we overcame him.
'The light, Hastings, I must see his face - though I fear I know
only too well whose face it will be.'
So did I, I thought as I groped for the lantern. For a moment
I had suspected the secretary, egged on by my secret dislike of the
man, but I felt assured by now that the man who stood to gain by
the death of his two childish cousins was the monster we were
tracking.
My foot struck against the lantern. I picked it up and switched
on the light. It shone full on the face of- Hugo Lemesurier, the
boy's fatherl
The lantern almost dropped from my hand.

94


POIROT'S EARL CASES

'Impossible,' I murmured hoarsely. 'Impossiblel'

Lemesurier was unconscious. Poirot nd I between us carried hi
to his room and laid him on the Ied. Poirot bent and gentl
extricated something from his right Band. He showed it to me.
was a hypodermic syringe. I shuddefed.
'What is in it? Poison?'
'Formic acid, I fancy.'
'Formic acid?'
'Yes. Probably obtained by distilling ants. He was a chemis
you remember. Death would have been attributed to the bee sting
'My God,' I muttered. 'His own soul And you expected thisi
Poirot nodded gravely.
'Yes. He is insane, of course. I iraagine that the family histor
has become a mania with him. His itatense longing to succeed
the estate led him to commit the loOg series of crimes. Possibl
the idea occurred to him first wheo travelling north that nlgl
with Vincent. He couldn't bear the prediction to be falsifie
Ronald's son was already dead, and Ronald himself was a dyin
man - they are a weakly lot. He arrataged the accident to the gut
and - which I did not suspect until fow - contrived the death ¢
his brother John by this same meod of injecting formic aci.
into the jugular vein. His ambitiota was realized then, and h
became the master of the family acreS. But his triumph was short
lived - he found that he was sufferifg from an incurable diseas
And he had the madman's fixed idea -' the eldest son of a Lemesur
ier could not inherit. I suspect that the bathing accident was du
to him - he encouraged the child to go out too far. That failing
he sawed through the ivy, and afterwards poisoned the child'
food.'
'Diabolical!' I murmured with shiver. 'And so cleverl
planned!'
'Yes, raon ami, there is nothing m°re amazing than the extrg
ordinary sanity of the insane! UnleSS it is the extraordinar
eccentricity of the sanel I imagine that it is only lately daat he ha
completely gone over the borderline, there was method in hi
madness to begin with.'

95


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'And to think that I suspected Roger - that splendid fellow.'
'It was the natural assumption, mon ami. We knew that he also
travelled north with Vincent that night. We knew, too, that he was
the next heir after Hugo and Hugo's children. But our assumption
was not borne out by the facts. The ivy was sawn through when
only little Ronald was at home - but it would be to Roger's
interest that both children should perish. In the same way, it was
only Ronald's food that was poisoned. And today when they came
home and I found that there was only his father's word for it
that Ronald had been stung, I remembered the other death from
a wasp sting - and I knewl'

Hugo Lemesurier died a few months later in the private asylum
to which he was removed. His widow was remarried a year later
to Mr John Gardiner, the auburn-haired secretary. Ronald
inherited the broad acres' of his father, and continues to flourish.
'Well, well,' I remarked to Poirot. 'Another illusion gone. You
have disposed very successfully of the curse of the Lemesuriers.'
'I wonder,' said Poirot very thoughtfully. 'I wonder very much
indeed.'
'What do you mean?'
'Mon am/, I will answer you with one significant word - redl'
'Blood?' I queried, dropping my voice to an awestricken
whisper.
'Always you have the imagination melodramatic, Hastingsl I
refer to something much more prosaic - the colour of little Ronald
Lemesurier's hair.'

96


CHAPTER VIII


THE LOST MINE


I laid down my bank book with a sigh.

'It is a curious thing,' I observed, 'but my overdraft never
seems to grow any less.'

'And it perturbs you not? Me, if I had an overdraft, never
should I close my eyes all night,' declared Poirot.

'You deal in comfortable balances, I suppose!' I retorted.

'Four hundred and forty-four pounds, four and fourpence,'
said Poirot with some complacency. 'A neat figure, is it not?'

'It must be tact on the part of your bank manager. He is evidently
acquainted with your passion for symmetrical details. What about
investing, say three hundred of it, in the Porcupine oil-fields?
Their prospectus, which is advertised in the papers today, saya
that they will pay one hundred per cent in dividends next year.'

'Not for me,' said Poirot, shaking his head. 'I like not the
sensational. For me the safe, the prudent investment - les rentes,

the consols, the - how do you call it? - the conversion.'

'Have you never made a speculative investment?'

'No, mon ami,' replied Poirot severely. 'I have not. And the
only' shares I own which have not what you call the gilded edge
are fourteen thousand shares in the Burma Mines Ltd.'

Poirot paused with an air of waiting to be encouraged to go on.
'Yes?' I prompted.

'And for them I paid no cash - no, they were the reward of the
exercise of my little grey cells. You would like to hear the story?
Yes?'

'Of course I would.'

'These mines are situated in the interior, of Burma about two
hundred miles inland from Rangoon. They were discovered by
the Chinese in the fifteenth century and worked down to the time
of the Mohammedan Rebellion, being finally abandoned i the


97


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


year x868. The Chinese extracted the rich lead-silver ore from the
upper part of the ore body, smelting it for the silver alone, and
leaving large quantities of rich lead-bearing slag. This, of course,
was soon discovered whdn prospecting work was carried out in
Burma, but owing to the fact that the old workings had become
full of loose filling and water, all attempts to find the source of the
ore proved fruitless. Many parties were sent out by syndicates,
and they dug over a large area, but this rich prize still eluded
them. But a representative of one of the syndicates got on the
track of a Chinese family who were supposed to have still kept a
record of the situation of the mine. The present head of the family
was one Wu Ling.'

'What a fascinating page of commercial romance? I exclaimed.
'Is it not? Ah, mon ami, one can have romance without golden-haired
girls of matchless beauty - no, I am wrong; it is auburn

hair that so excites you always. You remember - '

'Go on with the story,' I said hastily.

'Eh bien, my friend, this Wu Ling was approached. He was an
estimable merchant, much respected in the province where he
lived. He admitted at once that he owned the documents in
question, and was perfectly prepared to negotiate for this sale,
but he objected to dealing with anyone other than principals.
Finally it was arranged that he should journey to England and
meet the directors of an important company.

'Wu Ling made the journey to England in the S.S. Issunta, and
the tssunta docked at Southampton on a cold, foggy morning in
November. One of the directors, Mr Pearson, went down to
Southampton to meet the boat, but owing to the fog, the train
down was very much delayed, and by the time he arrived, Wu
Ling had disembarked and left by special train for London.
Mr Pearson returned to town somewhat annoyed, as he had no
idea where the Chinaman proposed to stay. Later in the day,
however, the offices of the company were rung up on the telephone.
Wu Ling was staying at the Russell Square Hotel. He was feeling
somewhat unwell after the voyage, but declared himself perfectly
able to attend the board meeting on the following day.

'The meeting of the board took place at eleven o'clock. When


98


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

half past eleven came, and Wu Ling had not put in an appearance,
the secretary rang up the Russell Hotel. In answer to his inquiries,
he was told that the Chinaman had gone out with a friend about
half past ten. It seemed clear that he had started out with the
intention of coming to the meeting, but the morning wore away,
and he did not appear. It was, of course, possible that he had lost
his way, being unacquainted with London, but at a late hour that
night he had not returned to the hotel. Thoroughly alarmed now,
Mr Pearson put matters in the hands of the police. On the following
day, there was still no trace of the missing man, but towards
evening of the day after that again, a body was found in the
Thames which proved to be that of the ill-fated Chinaman.
Neither on the body, nor in the luggage at the hotel, was there
shy trace of the papers relating to the mine.
'At this juncture, mon am/, I was brought into the affair.
Mr Pearson called upon me. While profoundly shocked by the
death of Wu Ling, his chief anxiety was to recover the papers
which were the object of the Chinaman's visit to England. The
main anxiety of the police, of course, would be to track down the
murderer - the recovery of the papers would be a secondary
consideration. What he wanted me to do was to co-operate with
the police while acting min the interests of the company.
'I consented readily enough. It was clear that there were two
fields of search open to me. On the one hand, I might look among
the employees of the company who knew of the Chinaman's
coming; on the other, among the passengers on the boat who
might have been acquainted with his mission. I started with the
second, as being a narrower field of search. In this I coincided
with Inspector Miller, who was in charge of the case - a man
altogether different from our friend Japp, conceited, ill-mannered
and quite insufferable. Together we interviewed the officers of the
ship. They had little to tell us. Wu Ling had kept much to himself
on the voyage. He had been intimate with but two of the other
passengers - one a broken-down European named Dyer who
appeared to bear a somewhat unsavoury reputation, the other a
young bank clerk named Charles Lester, who was returning from
Hong Kong. We were lucky enough to obtain snapshots of both

99


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


these men. At the moment there seemed little doubt that if either
of the two was implicated, Dyer was the man. He was known to
be mixed up with a gang of Chinese crooks, and was altogether a
most likely suspect.

'Our next step was to visit the Russell Square Hotel. Shown a
snapshot of Wu Ling, they recognized him at once. We then
showed them the snapshot of Dyer, but to our disappointment, the
hall porter declared positively that that was not the man who had
come to the hotel on the fatal morning. Almost as an afterthought,
I produced the photograph, of Lester, and to my surprise the man
at once recognized it.

' "Yes, sir," he asserted, "that's the gentleman who came in at
half past ten and asked for Mr Wu Ling, and afterwards went out
with him."

'The affair was progressing. Our next move was to interview
Mr Charles Lester. He met us with the utmost frankness, was
desolated to hear of the Chinaman's untimely death, and put
himself at our disposal in every way. His story was as follows:
By arrangement with Wu Ling, he called for him at the hotel at
ten-thirty. Wu Ling, however, did not appear. Instead, his servant
came, explained that his master had had to go out, and offered to
conduct the young man to where his master now was. Suspecting
nothing, Lester agreed, and the Chinaman procured a taxi. They
drove for some time in the direction of the docks. Suddenly
becoming mistrustful, Lester stopped the taxi and got out, dis-regarding
the servant's protests. That, he assured us, was all
he knew.

'Apparently satisfied, we thanked him and took our leave. His
story was soon proved to be a somewhat inaccurate one. To begin
with, Wu Ling had had no servant with him, either on the boat or
at the hotel. In the second place, the taxi-driver who had driven
the two men on that morning came forward. Far from Lester's
having left the taxi en route, he and the Chinese gentleman had
driven to a certain unsavoury dwelling-place in Limehouse, right
in the heart of Chinatown. The place in question was more or
less well known as an opium-den of the lowest description. The
two gentlemen had gone in - about an hour later the English


100


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

gentleman, whom he identified from the photograph, came out
alone. He looked very pale and ill, and directed the taxi-man to
take him to the nearest underground station.
'Inquiries were made about Charles Lester's standing, and it
was found that, though bearing an excellent character, he wa
heavily in debt, and had a secret passion for gambling. Dyer, of
course, was not lost sight of. It seemed just faintly possible that
he might have impersonated the other man, but that idea was
proved utterly groundless. His alibi for the whole of the day in
question was absolutely unimpeachable. Of course, the proprietor
of the opium-den denied everything with Oriental stolidity. He
had never seen Wu Ling; he had never seen Charles Lester. No
two gentlemen had been to the place that morning. In any case,
the police were wrong: no opium was ever smoked there.
'His denials, however well meant, did little to help Charle
Lester. He was arrested for the murder of Wu Ling. A search of
his effects was made, but no papers relating to the mine were
discovered. The proprietor of the opium-den was also taken into
custody, but a cursory raid of his premises yielded nothing. Not
even a stick of opium rewarded the zeal of the police.
'In the meantime my friend Mr Pearson was in a great state of
agitation. He strode up and down my room, uttering great
lamentations.
' "But you must have some ideas, M. Poirotl" he kept urging.
"Surely you must have some ideas?"
' "Certainly I have ideas," I replied cautiously. "That is the
trouble - one has too many; therefore they all lead in different
directions."
' "For instance?" he suggested.
' "For instance - the taxi-driver. We have only his word for it
that he drove the two men to that house. That is one idea. Then was
it really that house they went to? Supposing that they left
the taxi there, passed through the house and out by another
entrance and went elsewhere?"
'Mr Pearson seemed struck by that.
' "But you do nothing but sit and think? Can't we do something?"
'He was of an impatient temperament, you comprehend.

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

' "Monsieur," I said with dignity, "it is not for Hercule Poirot
to run up and down the evil-smelling streets of Limehouse like a
little dog of no breeding. Be calm. My agents are at work."
'On the following day I had news for him. The two men had
indeed passed through the house in question, but their real objective
waz a small eating-house close to the river. They were seen
to pass in there, and Lester came out alone.
'And then, figure to yourself, Hastings, an idea of the most
unreasonable seized this Mr Pearsonl Nothing would suit him
but that we should go ourselves to this eating-house and make
investigations. I argued and prayed, but he would not listen. He
talked of disguising himself - he even suggested that I - I should
- I hesitate to say it - should shave off my moustachel Yes, rien que fal I pointed out to him that that was an idea ridiculous and
absurd. One destroys not a thing of beauty wantonly. Besides,
shall not a Belgian gentleman with a moustache desire to see life
and smoke the opium just as readily as one without a moustache?
'Eh b/eh, he gave in on that, but he still insisted on his project.
He turned up that evening - Mort Dieu, what a figure! He wore
what he called the "pea-jacket", his chin, it was dirty and unshaved;
he had a scarf of the vilest that offended the nose. And
figure to yourself, he was enjoying himselfl Truly, the English are
madl He made some changes in my own appearance. I permitted
it. Can one argue with a maniac? We started out - after all, could
I let him go alone, a child dressed up to act the charades?'
'Of course you couldn't,' I replied.
'To continue - we arrived. Mr Pearson talked English of the
strangest. He represented himself to be a man of the sea. He talked
of "lubbers" and "focselles" and I know not what. It was a low
little room with many Chinese in it. We ate of peculiar dishes. /Ih, Dieu, mon estomac!' Poirot clasped that portion of his anatomy
tenderly before continuing. 'Then there came to us the proprietor,
a Chinaman with a face of evil smiles.
' "You gentlemen no likee food here," he said. "You come for
what you likee better. Piecee pipe, eh?"
'Mr Pearson, he gave me the great kick under the table. (He

102


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


had on the boots of the sea, tool) And he said: "I don't mind if I
do, John. Lead ahead."

'The Chinaman smiled, and he took us through a door and to a
cellar and through a trapdoor, and down some steps and up again
into a room all full of divans and cushions of the most comfortable.
We lay down and a Chinese boy took off our boots. It was the
best moment of the evening. Then they brought us the opium-pipes
and cooked the opium-pills, and we pretended to smoke
and then to sleep and dream. But when we were alone, Mr Pearson
called softly to me, and immediately he began crawling along the
floor. We went into another room where other people were asleep,
and so on, until we heard two men talking. We stayed behind a

curtain and listened. They were speaking of Wu Ling.

' "What about the papers?" said one.

' "Mr Lester, he takee those," answered the other, who was a
Chinaman. "He say, puttee them alice in saree place - where
pleeceman no lookee."

' "Ah, but he's nabbed," said the first one.

' "He gettee free. Pleeceman not sure he done it."

'There was more of the same kind of thing, then apparently the
two men were coming our way, and we scuttled back to our beds.

' "We'd better get out of here," said Pearson, after a few minutes
had elapsed. "This place isn't healthy."

'"You are right, monsieur," I agreed. "We have played the
farce long enough."

'We succeeded in getting away, all right, paying handsomely
for our smoke. Once clear of Limehouse, Pearson drew a long
breath.

' "I'm glad to get out of that," he said. "But it's something to

be sure."

' "It is indeed," I agreed. "And I fancy that we shall not have
much difficulty in finding what we want - after this evening',
masquerade."

'And there was no difficulty whatsoever,' finished Poirot
suddenly.

This abrupt ending seemed so extraordinary that I stared at him.
'But - but where were they?' I asked.


103


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'In his pocket - tout simplement.'
'But in whose pocket?'
'Mr Pearson's, parbleul' Then, observing my look of bewilderment,
he continued gently: 'You do not yet see it? Mr Pearson,
like Charles Lester, was in debt. Mr Pearson, like Charles Lester,
was fond of gambling. And he conceived the idea of stealing the
papers from the Chinaman. He met him all right at Southampton,
came up to London with him, and took him straight to Limehouse.
It was foggy that day; the Chinaman would not notice where he
was going. I fancy Mr Pearson smoked the opium fairly often
down there and had some peculiar friends in consequence. I do
not think he meant murder. His idea was that one of the Chinamen
should impersonate Wu Ling and receive the money for the sale
of the document. So far, so goodl But, to the Oriental mind, it
was infinitely simpler to kill Wu [,ing and throw his body into
the river, and Pearson's Chinese accomplices followed their own
methods without consulting him. Imagine, then, what you would
call the "funk bleu" of M. Pearson. Someone may have seen him
in the train with Wu Ling - murder is a very different thing from
simple abduction.
'His salvation lies with the Chinaman who is personating Wu
Ling at the Russell Square Hotel. If only the body is not discovered
too soon! Probably Wu Ling had told him of the arrangement
between him and Charles [,ester whereby the latter was to
call for him at the hotel. Pearson sees there an excellent way of
diverting suspicion from himself. Charles Lester shall be the last
person to be seen in company with Wu Ling. The impersonator
has orders to represent himself to Lester as the servant of Wu
[,ing, and to bring him as speedily as possible to Limehouse.
There, very likely, he was offered a drink. The drink would be
suitably drugged, and when Lester emerged an hour later, he
would have a very hazy impression of what had happened. 8o
much was this the case, that as soon as Lester learned of Wu
[,ing's death, he loses his nerve, and denies that he ever reached
[,imehouse.
'By that, of course, he plays right into Pearson's hands. But is
Pearson content? No - my manner disquiets him, and he deter104



POIROT'S EARLY CASES

mines to complete the case against Lester. So he arranges an
elaborate masquerade. Me, I am to be gulled completely. Did I
not say just now that he was as a child acting the charades? Eh
bien, I play my part. He goes home rejoicing. But in the morning,
Inspector Miller arrives on his doorstep. The papers are found
on him; the game is up. Bitterly he regrets permitting himself to
play the farce with Hercule Poirot! There was only one real
difficulty in the affair.'
'What was that?' I demanded curiously.
'Convincing Inspector Millerl What an animal, thatl Both
obstinate and imbecile. And in the end he took all the credit?
'Too bad,' I cried.
'Ah, well, I had my compensations. The other director of the
Burma Mines Ltd awarded me fourteen thousand shares as a
small recompense for my services. Not so bad, eh? But when
investing money, keep, I beg of you, Hastings, strictly to the
conservative. The things you. read in the paper, they may not be
true. The directors of the Porcupine - they may be so many
Mr Pearsons!'

105


CHAPTER IX

THE PLYMOUTH EXPRESS

Alee Simpson, RN, stepped from the platform at Newton Abbot
into a first-class compartment of the Plymouth Express. A porter
followed him with a heavy suitcase. He was about to swing it up
to the rack, but the young sailor stopped him.
'No - leave it on the seat. I'll put it up later. Here you are.'
'Thank you, sir.' The porter, generously tipped, withdrew.
Doors banged; a stentorian voice shouted: 'Plymouth only.
Change for Torquay. Plymouth next stop.' Then a whistle blew,
and the train drew slowly out of the station.
Lieutenant Simpson had the carriage to himself. The December
air was chilly, and he pulled up the window. Then he sniffed
vaguely, and frowned. What a smell there wasl Reminded him of
that time in hospital, and the operation on his leg. Yes, chloroform;
that was it!
He let the window down again, changing his seat to one with
its back to the engine. He pulled a pipe out of his pocket and lit it.
For a little time he sat inactive, looking out into the night and
smoking.
At last he roused himself, and opening the suitcase, took out
some papers and magazines, then closed the suitcase again and
endeavoured to shove it under the opposite seat - without success.
Some hidden obstacle resisted it. He shoved harder with rising
impatience, but it still stuck out half-way into the carriage.
'Why the devil won't it go in?' he muttered, and hauling it out
completely, he stooped down and peered under the seat o o.
A moment later a cry rang out into the night, and the great
train came to an unwilling halt in obedience to the imperative
jerking of the communication cord.

'Mon ami,' said Poirot, 'you have, I know, been deeply inter106



POIROT'S EARLY CASES


ested in this mystery of the Plymouth Express. Read this.'

I picked up the note he flicked across the table to me. It was
brief and to the point.


Dear Sir,

I shall be obliged if you will call upon me at your earliest
convenience.

Yours faithfully,

EBENEZER HALLIDAY


The connection was not clear to my mind, and I looked in-quiringly
at Poirot.

For answer he took up the newspaper and read alohd: '"A
sensational discovery was made last night. A young naval officer
returning to Plymouth found under the seat of his compartment
the body of a woman, stabbed through the heart. The officer at
once pulled the communication cord, and the train was brought
to a Standstill. The woman, who was about thirty years of age,
and richly dressed, has not yet been identified."

'And later we have this: "The woman found dead in tl,e
Plymouth Express has been identified as the Honourable Mrs
Rupert Carrington." You see now, my friend? Or if you do not,
I will add this - Mrs Rupert Carrington was, before her marriage,
Flossie Halliday, daughter of old man Halliday, the steel king of
America.'

'And he has sent for you? Splendidl'

'I did him a little service in the past - an affair of bearer bonds.
And once, when I was in Paris for a royal visit, I had Mademoiselle
Flossie pointed out to me. Lajolie petite pensionnairel She had the

joli dot too! It caused trouble. She nearly made a bad affair.'
'How was that?'

'A certain Count de la Rochefour. Un bien tnauvais sujet! A bad
hat, as you would say. An adventurer pure and simple, who knew
how to appeal to a romantic young girl. Luckily her father got
wind cfi it in time. He took her back to America in haste. I heard of
her marriage some years later, but I know nothing of her husband.'

'H'm,' I said. 'The Honourable Rupert Carrington is no beauty,
by all accounts. He'd pretty well run through his own money on


107


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

the turf, and I should imagine old man Halliday's dollars came
along in the nick of time. I should say that for a good-looking,
well-mannered, utterly unscrupulous young scoundrel, it would
be hard to find his match?
'Ah, the poor little lady! Elle n'est pas bien tombde!'
'I fancy he made it pretty obvious at once that it was her money,
snd not she, that had attracted him. I believe they drifted apart
almost at once. I have heard turnouts lately that there was to be a
definite legal separation.'
'Old man Halliday is no fool. He would tie up her money
pretty tight.'
'I dare say. Anyway, I know as a fact that the Honourable
Rupert is said to be extremely hard-up.'
'Aha! I wonder '
'You wonder what?'
'My good friend, do not jump down my throat like that. You
are interested, I see. Supposing you accompany me to see Mr
Halliday. There is a taxi-stand at the corner.'

A few minutes sufficed to whirl us to the superb house in Park
Lane rented by the American magnate. We were shown into the
library, and almost immediately we were joined by a large, stout
man, with piercing eyes and an aggressive chin.
'M. Poirot?' said Mr Halliday. 'I guess I don't need to tell you
what I want you for. You've read the papers, and I'm never one
to let the grass grow under my feet. I happened to hear you were
in London, and I remembered the good work you did over those
bonds. Never forget a name. I've got the pick of Scotland Yard,
but I'll have my own man as well. Money no object. All the dollars
were made for my little girl - and now she's gone, I'll spend my
last cent to catch the damned scoundrel that did it! See? So it's
up to you to deliver the goods.'
Poirot bowed.
'I accept, monsieur, all the more willingly that I saw your
daughter in Paris several times. And now I will ask you to tell me
the circumstances of her journey to Plymouth and any other detaih
that seem to you to bear upon the case.'

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'Well, to begin with,' responded Halliday, 'she wasn't going to
Plymouth. She was going to join a house-party at Avonmead
Court, the Duchess of Swansea's place. She left London by the
twelve-fourteen from Paddington, arriving at Bristol (where she
had to change) at two-fifty. The principal Plymouth expresses, of
course, run via Westbury, and do not go near Bristol at all. The
twelve-fourteen does a non-stop run to Bristol, afterwards stopping
at Weston, Taunton, Exeter and Newton Abbot. My daughter
travelled alone in her carriage, which was reserved as far as Bristol,
her maid being in a third-class carriage in the next coach.'
Poirot nodded, and Mr Halliday went on: 'The party at Avon-mead
Court was to be a very gay one, with several balls, and in
consequence my daughter had with her nearly all her jewels amounting
in value, perhaps, to about a hundred thousand dollars.'
'Un moment,' interrupted Poirot. 'Who had charge of the jewels?
Your daughter, or the maid?'
'My daughter always took charge of them herself, carrying
them in a small blue morocco case.'
'Continue, monsieur.'
'At Bristol the maid, Jane Mason, collected her mistress's
dressing-bag and wraps, which were with her, and came to the
door of Flossie's compartment. To her intense surprise, my
daughter told her that she was not getting out at Bristol, but wa
going on farther. She directed Mason to get out the luggage and
put it in the cloakroom. She could have tea in the refreshment-room,
but she was to wait at the station for her mistress, who
would return to Bristol by an up-train in the course of the afternoon.
The maid, although very much astonished, did as she wa
told. She put the luggage in the cloakroom and had some tea.
But up-train after up-train came in, and her mistress did not appear. After the arrival of the last train, she left the luggage where
it was, and went to a hotel near the station for the night. Thi
morning she read of the tragedy, and returned to town by the
first available train.'
'Is there nothing to account for your daughter's sudden change
of plan?'
'Well, there is this: According to Jane Mason, at Bristol, Flosie

109


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

was no longer alone in her carriage. There was a man in it who
stood looking out of the farther window so that she could not see
his face.'
'The train was a corridor one, of course?'
'Yes.'
'Which side was the corridor?'
'On the platform side. My daughter was standing in the corridor
as she talked to Mason.'
'And there is no doubt in your mind - excuse me!' He got up,
and carefully straightened the inkstand which was a little askew. 'e vous demande pardon,' he continued, re-seating himself. 'It
affects my nerves to see anything crooked. Strange, is it not? I was
saying, monsieur, that there is no doubt in your mind as to this
probably unexpected meeting being the cause of your daughter's
sudden change of plan?'
'It seems the only reasonable supposition.'
'You have no idea as to who the gentleman in question
might be?'
The millionaire hesitated for a moment, and then replied:
'No - I do not know at all.'
'Now - as to the discovery of the body?'
'It was discovered by a young naval officer who at once gave the
alarm. There was a doctor on the train. He examined the body.
She had been first chloroformed, and then stabbed. He gave it as
his opinion that she had been dead about four hours, so it must
have been done not long after leaving Bristol - probably between
there and Weston, possibly between Weston and Taunton.'
'And the jewel-case?'
'The jewel-case, M. Poirot, was missing.'
'One thing more, monsieur. Your daughter's fortune - to
whom does it pass at her death?'
'Flossie made a will soon after her m!lrriage, leaving everything
to her husband.' He hesitated for a minute, and then went on: 'I
may as well tell you, Monsieur Poirot, that I regard my son-in-law
as an unprincipled scoundrel, and that, by my advice, my daughter
was on the eve of freeing herself from him by legal means - no
difficult matter. I settled her money upon her in such a way that

110


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

he could not touch it during her lifetime, but although they have
lived entirely apart for some years, she had frequently acceded to
his demands for money, rather than face an open scandal. However,
I was determined to put an end to this. At last Flossie agreed,
and my lawyers were instructed to take proceedings.'
'And where is Monsieur Carrington?'
'In town. I believe he was away in the country yesterday, but
he returned last night.'
Poirot considered a little while. Then he said: 'I think that is
all, monsieur.'
'You would like to see the maid, Jane Mason?'
'If you please.'
Halliday rang the bell, and gave a short order to the footman.
A few minutes later Jane Mason entered the room, a respectable,
hard-featured woman, as emotionless in the face of tragedy as
only a good servant can be.
'You will permit me to put a few questions? Your mistress, she was quite as usual before starting yesterday morning? Not excited
or flurried?'
'Oh no, sir'
'But at Bristol she was quite different?'
'Yes, sir, regular upset - so nervous she didn't seem to know
what she was saying.'
'What did she say exactly?'
'Well, sir, as near as I can remember, she said: "Mason, I've
got to alter my plans. Something has happened - I mean, I'm not
getting out here after all. I must go on. Get out the luggage and
put it in the cloakroom; then have some tea, and wait for me in the
station."
' "Wait for you here, ma'am?" I asked.
'"Yes, yes. Don't leave the station. I shall return by a later
train. I don't know when. It mayn't be until quite late.'
' "Very well, ma'am," I says. It wasn't my place to ask questions,
but I thought it very strange.'
'It was unlike your mistrcs, eh?'
'Very unlike her, sir.'
'What did you think?'

111


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'Well, sir, I thought it was to do with the gentleman in the
carriage. She didn't speak to him, but she turned round once or

twice as though to ask him if she was doing right.'

'But you didn't see the gentleman's face?'

'No, sir; he stood with his back to me all the time.'

'Can you describe him at all?'

'He had on a light fawn overcoat, and a travelling-cap. He was

tall and slender, like, and the back of his head was dark.'

You didn't know him?'

'Oh no, I don't think so, sir.'

'It was not your master, Mr Carrington, by any chance?'
Mason looked rather startled.
'Oh, I don't think so, sirl'
'But you are not sure?'

'It was about the master's build, sir - but I never thought of it
being him. We so seldom saw him . . . I couldn't say it va.m't
himl'

Poirot picked up a pin from the carpet, and frowned at it
severely; then he continued: 'Would it be possible for the man to

have entered the train at Bristol before you reached the carriage?'
Mason considered.

'Yes, sir, I think it would. My compartment was very crowded,
and it was some minutes before I could get out - and then there
was a very large crowd on the platform, and that delayed me too.
But he'd only have had a minute or two to speak to the mistress,

that way. I took it for granted that he'd come along the corridor.'
'That is more probable, certainly?
He paused, still frowning.

'You know how the mistress was dressed, sir?'

'The papers give a few details, but I would like you to confirm
them.'

'She was wearing a white fox fur toque, sir, with a white spotted
veil, and a blue frieze coat and skirt - the shade of blue they call
electric.'

'H'm, rather striking.'

'Yes,' remarked Mr Halliday. 'Inspector Japp is in hopes that
that may help us to fix the spot where the crime took place.


112


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

Anyone who saw her would remember her.' 'Prdcisd,-nentl - Thank you, mademoiselle.'
The maid left the room.
'Wclll' Poirot got up briskly. 'That is all I can do here - except,
monsieur, that I would ask you to tell me everything - but everythingl'
'I have done so.'
'You are sure?'
'Absolutely.'
'Then there is nothing more to be aid. I must decline the case.'
'Why?'
'Because you have not been frank with me.'
'I assure you - '
'No, you are keeping something back.'
There was a moment'a pause, and then Halliday drew a paper
from his pocket and handed it to my friend.
'I guess that'a what you're after, Monsieur Poirot - though
how you know about it fairly gets my goatl'
Poirot smiled, and unfolded the paper. It was a letter written
in thin sloping handwriting. Poirot read it aloud.

'ChOre Madame,
It is with infinite pleasure that I look forward to the felicity
of meeting you again. After your so amiable reply to my letter,
I can hardly restrain my impatience. I have never forgotten
thoe days in Paris. It is most cruel that you should be leaving
London tomorrow. However, before very long, and perhaps
sooner than you think, I shall have the joy of beholding once
more the lady whose image has ever reigned supreme in my
heart.
Believe, chore madame, all the assurance of my most
devoted and unaltered sentiment -
Armand de la Rochefour.'

Poirot handed the letter back to Halliday with a bow.
'I fancy, monsieur, that you did not know that your daughter
intended renewing her acquaintance with the Count de la
Rochefour?'

113


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'It came as a thunderbolt to me! I found this letter in my
daughter's handbag. As you probably know, Monsieur Poirot,

this so-called count is an adventurer of the worst type.'

Poirot nodded.

'But I want to know how you knew of the existence of thi
letter?'

My friend smiled. 'Monsieur, I did not. But to track footmarlm
and recognize cigarette-ash is not sufficient for a detective. He
must also be a good psychologist! I knew that you disliked and
mistrusted your son-in-law. He benefits by your daughter's death;
the maid's description of the mysterious man bears a sufficient
resemblance to him. Yet you are not keen on his trackl Why?
Surely because your suspicions lie in another direction. Therefore
you were keeping something back.'

'You're right, Monsieur Poirot. I was sure of Rupert's guilt
until I found this letter. It unsettled me horribly.'

'Yes. The Count says: "Before very long, and perhaps sooner
than you think." Obviously he would not want to wait until you
should get wind of his reappearance. Was it he who travelled
down from London by the twelve-fourteen, and came along the
corridor to your daughter's compartment? The Count de la

Rochefour is also, if I remember rightly, tall and dark?

The millionaire nodded.

'Well, monsieur, I will wish you good day. Scotland Yard has,
I presume, a list of the jewels?'

'Yes. I believe Inspector Japp is here now if you would like to
see him.'


Japp was an old friend of ours, and greeted Poirot with a sort of
affectionate contempt.

'And how are you, monsieur? No bad feeling between us,
though we have got our different ways of looking at things. How are
the "little grey cells", eh? Going strong?'

Poirot beamed upon him. 'They function, my good Japp;
assuredly they do!'

'Then that's all right. Think it was the Honourable Rupert, or a
crook? We're keeping an eye on all the regular places, of course.


114


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

We shall know if the shiners are disposed of, and of course whoever
did it isn't going to keep them to admire their sparkle. Not likelyl
I'm trying to find out where Rupert Carrington was yesterday.
Seems a bit of a mystery about it. I've got a man watching him.'
'A great precaution, but perhaps a day late,' suggested Poirot
gently.
'You always will have your joke, Monsieur Poirot. Well, I'm off
to Paddington. Bristol, Weston, Taunton, that's my beat. So long.'
'You will come round and see me this evening, and tell me the
result?'
'Sure thing, if I'm back.'
'That good inspector believes in matter in motion,' murmured
Poirot as our friend departed. 'He travels; he measures footprints;
he collects mud and cigarette-ashl He is extremely busyl He is
zealous beyond words! And if I mentioned psychology to him, do
you know what he would do, my friend? He would smilel He
would say to himself: "Poor old Poirotl He agesl He grows senile!"
Japp is the "younger generation knocking on the door". And ma 'ofI They are so busy knocking that they do not notice that the
door is openl'
'And what are you going to do?'
'As we have carte blanche, I shall expend threepence in ringing
up the Ritz - where you may have noticed our Count is staying.
After that, as my feet are a little damp, and I have sneezed twice,
I shall return to my rooms and make myself a tisane over the
spirit lampl'

I did not see Poirot again until the following morning. I found him
placidly finishing his breakfast.
'Well?' I inquired eagerly. 'What has happened?'
'Nothing.'
'But Japp?'
'I have not seen him.'
'The Count?'
'He left the Ritz the day before yesterday.'
'The day of the murder?' 'Yes.'

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'Then that settles it[ Rupert Carrington is cleared.'
'Because the Count de h Rochefour has left the Ritz? You go
too fast, my friend.'
'Anyway, he must be followed, a 'restedl But what could be his
motive?'
'One hundred thousand dollars' worth of jewellery is a very
good motive for anyone. No, the question to my mind is: why kill
her? Why not simply steal the jewels? She would not prosecute.'
'Why not?'
'Because she is a woman, mon ami. She once loved this man.
Therefore she would suffer her loss in silence. And the Count,
who is an extremely good psychologist where women are concerned
- hence his successes - would know that perfectly well!
On the other hand, if Rupert Carrington killed her, why take the
jewels, which would incriminate him fatally?'
'As a blind.'
'Perhaps you are right, my friend. Ah, here is lapp[ I recognize
his knock.'
The inspector was beaming good-humouredly.
'Morning, Poirot. Only just got back. I've done some good
workl And you?'
The, I have arranged my ideas,' replied Poirot placidly.
Japp laughed heartily.
'Old chap's getting on in years,' he observed beneath his breath
to me. 'That won't do for us young folk,' he said aloud.
'Quel dommage?' Poirot inquired.
'Well, do you want to hear what I've done?'
'You permit me to make a guess? You have found the knife with
which the crime was committed, by the side of the line between
Weston and Taunton, and you have interviewed the paperboy
who spoke to Mrs Carrington at Weston!'
Japp's jaw fell. 'How on earth did you know? Don't tell me it
was those almighty "little grey cells" of yoursI'
'I am glad you admit for once that they are all mightyl Tell me,
did she give the paper-boy a shilling for himself?'
'No, it was half a crownl' Japp had recovered his temper, and
grinned. 'Pretty extravagant, these rich Americans!'

116


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'And in consequence the boy did not forget her?'

'Not he. Half-crowns dgn't come his way every day. She haile
him and bought two magazines. One had a picture of a girl it
blue on the cover. "That'll match me," she said. Oh, he remem.
bered her perfectly. Well, that was enough for me. By the doctor'
evidence, the crime must have been committed before Taunton
I guessed they'd throw the knife away at once, and I walked dom
the line looking for it; and sure enough, there it was. I mad
inquiries at Taunton about our man, but of course it's a bi!
station, and it wasn't likely they'd notice him. He probably got

back to London by a later train.'

Poirot nodded. 'Very likely.'

'But I found another bit of news when I got back. They're
passing the jewels, all righfi That large emerald was pawned last

night - by one of the regular lot. Who do you think it was?'
'I don't know - except that he was a short man.'

lapp stared. 'Well, you're right there. He's short enough. It
was Red Narky.'

'Who is Red Narky?' I asked.

'A particularly sharp jewel-thief, sir. And not one to stick at
murder. Usually works with a woman - Gracie Kidd; but she
doesn't seem to be in it this time - unless she's got off to Holland
with the rest of the swag.'

'You've arrested Narky?'

'Sure thing. But mind you, it's the other man we want - the
man who went down with Mrs Carrington in the train. He was the
one who planned the job, right enough. But Narky won't squeal
on a pal.'

I noticed that Poirot's eyes had become very green.

'I think,' he said gently, 'that I can find Narky's pal for you,
all right.'

'One of your little ideas, eh?' lapp eyed Poirot sharply. 'Wonder-ul
how you manage to deliver the goods sometimes, at your ae
and all. Devil's own luck, of course.'

'Perhaps, perhaps,' murmured my friend. 'Hastings, my hat.
And the brush. Sol My galoshes, if it still rainsl We must not undo
the good work of that tisane./lu rm/r, Jappl'


117


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'Good luck to you, Poirot.'

Poirot hailed the first taxi we met, and directed the driver to
Park Lane.

When we drew up before Halliday's house, he skipped out
nimbly, paid the driver and rang the bell. To the footman who
opened the door he made a request in a low voice, and we were
immediately taken upstairs. We went up to the top of the house,
and were shown into a small neat bedroom.

Poirot's eyes roved round the room and fastened themselves on
a small black trunk. He knelt in front of it, scrutinized the labels
on it, and took a small twist of wire from his pocket.

'Ask Mr Halliday if he will be so kind as to mount to me here,'
he said over his shoulder to the footman.

The man departed, and Poirot gently coaxed the lock of the
trunk with a practised hand. In a few minutes the lock gave, and
he raised the lid of the trunk. Swiftly he began rummaging among
the clothes it contained, flinging them out on the floor.

There was a heavy step on the stairs, and Halliday entered the
room.

'What in hell are you doing here?' he demanded, staring.

'I was looking, . monsieur, for this.' Poirot withdrew from the
trunk a coat and skirt of bright blue frieze, and a small toque of
white fox fur.

'What are you doing with my trunk?' I turned to see that the
maid, Jane Mason, had entered the room.

'If you will just shut the door, Hastings. Thank you. Yes, and
stand with your back against it. Now, Mr Halliday, let me intro-duce
you to Gracie Kidd, otherwise Jane Mason, who will shortly
rejoin her accomplice, Red Narky, under the kind escort of
Inspector Japp.'


Poirot waved a deprecating hand. 'It was of the most simplel'
He helped himself to more caviar.

'It was the maid's insistence on the clothes that her mistre
was wearing that first struck me. Why was she so anxious that our
attention should be directed to them? I reflected that we had only
the maid's word for the mysterious man in the carriage at Bristol.


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


As far as the doctor's evidence went, Mrs Carrington might easily
have been murdered before reaching Bristol. But if so, then the
maid must be an accomplice. And if she were an accomplice, she
would not vish this point to rest on her evidence alone. The
clothes Mrs Carrington was wearing were of a striking nature. A
maid usually has a good deal of choice as to what her mistress shall
wear. Now if, after Bristol, anyone saw a lady in a bright blue coat
and skirt, and a fur toque, he will be quite ready to swear he had
seen Mrs Carrington.

'I began to reconstruct. The maid would provide herself with
duplicate clothes. She and her accomplice, chloroform and stab
Mrs Carrington between London and Bristol, probably taking
advantage of a tunnel. Her body is rolled under the seat; and the
maid takes her place. At Weston she must make herself noticed.
How? In all probability, a nevspaper-boy will be selected. She
will insure his remembering her by giving him a large tip. She
also drew his attention to the colour of her dress by a remark
about one of the magazines. After leaving Weston, she throws the
knife out of the window to mark the place where the crime pre-sumably
occurred, and changes her clothes, or buttons a long
mackintosh over them. At Taunton she leaves the train and returns
to Bristol as soon as possible, where her accomplice has duly left
the luggage in the cloakroom. He hands over the ticket and
himself returns to London. She waits on the platform, carrying
out her role, goes to a hotel for the night and returns to town in the
morning, exactly as she said.

'When Japp returned from this expedition, he confirmed all
my deductions. He also told me that a well-known crook was
passing the jewels. I knew that whoever it was would be the exact
opposite of the man Jane Mason described. When I heard that it
was Red Narky, who always worked with Graeie Kidd - well, I

knew just where to find her.'

'And the Count?'

'The more I thought of it, the more I was convinced that he
had nothing to do with it. That gentleman is much too careful of
his own skin to risk murder. It would be out of keeping with his
character.'


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'Well, Monsieur Poirot,' said Halliday, 'I owe you a big debt.

And the cheque I write after lunch won't go near to settling it.'
Poirot smiled modestly, and murmured to me: 'The good Japp,
he shall get the official credit, all right, but though he has got his
Gracie Kidd, I think that I, as the Americans say, have got his
goat!'


120


CHAPTER X


THE CHOCOI. ATE BOX


It was a wild night. Outside, the wind howled malevolently, and
the rain beat against the windows in great gusts.

Poirot and I sat facing the hearth, our legs stretched out to the
cheerful blaze. Between us was a small table. On my side of it
stood some carefully brewed hot toddy; on Poirot's was a cup of
thick, rich chocolate which I would not have drunk for a hundred
poundsl Poirot sipped the thick brown mess in the pink china cup,
and sighed with contentment.

'Quelle belle v/e!' he murmured.

'Yes, it's a good old world,' I agreed. 'Here am I with a job,

and a good job tool And here are you, famous - '

'Oh, mon ami!' protested Poirot.

'But you are. And rightly sol When I think back on your long
line of successes, I am positively amazed. I don't believe you know
what failure isl'

'He would be a droll kind of original who could say thaw
'No, but seriously, have you ever failed?'

'Innumerable times, my friend. What would you? La bonne
chance, it cannot always be on your side. I have been called in too
late. Very often another, working towards the same goal, has
arrived there first. Twice have I been stricken down with illness
just as I was on the point of success. One must take the downs
with the ups, my friend.'

'I didn't quite mean that,' I said. 'I meant, had you ever been
completely down and out over a case through your own fault?'

'Ah, I comprehend! You ask if I have ever made the complete
prize ass of myself, as you say over here? Once, my friend - ' A
slow, reflective smile hovered over his face. 'Yes, once I made a
fool of myself.'


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

He sat up suddenly in his chair.
'See here, my friend, you have, I know, kept a record of my
little successes. You shall add one more story to the collection,
the story of a failure!'
He leaned forward and placed a log on the fire. Then, after
carefully wiping his hands on a little duster that hung on a
nail by the fireplace, he leaned back and commenced his
story.
That of which I tell you (said M. Poirot) took place in Belgium
many years ago. It was at the time of the terrible struggle in France
between church and state. M. Paul Droulard was a French deputy
of note. It was an open secret that the portfolio of a Minister
awaited him. He was among the bitterest of the anti-Catholic
party, and it was certain that on his accession to power, he would
have to face violent enmity. He was in many ways a peculiar man.
Though he neither drank nor smoked, he was nevertheless not so
scrupulous in other ways. You comprehend, Hastings, cYtait des
femrnes - toujours des femmesl
He had married some years earlier a young lady from Brussels
who had brought him a substantial dot. Undoubtedly the money
was useful to him in his career, as his family was not rich, though
on the other hand he was entitled to call himself M. le Baron if he
chose. There were no children of the marriage, and his wife died
after two years - the result of a fall downstairs. Among the property
which she bequeathed to him was a house on the Avenue Louise in
Brussels.
It was in this house that his sudden death took place, the event
coinciding with the resignation of the Minister whose portfolio
he was to inherit. All the papers printed long notices of his career.
His death, which had taken place quite suddenly in the evening
after dinner, was attributed to heart-failure.
At that time, rnon ami, I was, as you know, a member of the
Belgian detective force. The death of M. Paul Droulard was not
particularly interesting to me. I am, as you also know, bon
catholique, and his demise seemed to me fortunate.
It was some three days afterwards, when my vacation had just
begun, that I received a visitor at my own apartments - a lady,

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


heavily veiled, but evidently quite young; and I perceived at once
that she was a jeune fille tout d fait cornme il faut.

'You are Monsieur Hercule Poirot?' she asked in a low sweet
voice.

I bowed.

'Of the detective service?'

Again I bowed. 'Be seated, I pray of you, mademoiselle,' I said.
She accepted a chair and drew aside her veil. Her face was
charming, though marred with tears, and haunted as though with
some poignant anxiety.

'Monsieur,' she said, 'I understand that you are now taking a
vacation. Therefore you will be free to take up a private case.
You understand that I do not wish to call in the police.'

I shook my head. 'I fear what you ask is impossible, mademois-elle.
Even though on vacation, I am still of the police.'

She leaned forward. 'Ecoutez, monsieur. All that I ask of you is
to investigate. The result of your investigations you are at perfect
liberty to report to the police. If what I believe to be true/s true,
we shall need all the machinery of the law.'

That placed a somewhat different complexion on the matter,
and I placed myself at her service without more ado.

A slight colour rose in her cheeks. 'I thank you, monsieur. It
is the death of M. Paul Droulard that I ask you to investi-gate.'

'Comment?' I exclaimed, surprised.

'Monsieur, I have nothing to go upon - nothing but my woman's
instinct, but I am convinced - convinced, I tell you - that M.

Droulard did not die a natural death!'

'But surely the doctors - '

'Doctors may be mistaken. He was so robust, so strong. Ah,
Monsieur Poirot, I beseech of you to help me - '

The poor child was almost beside herself. She would have knelt
to me. I soothed her as best I could.

'I will help you, mademoiselle. I feel almost sure that your fears
are unfounded, but we will see. First, I will ask you to describe
to me the inmates of the house.'

'There are the domestics, of course, Jeanette, Flicie, and Denise


123


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

the cook. She has been there many years; the others are simple
country girls. Also there is Francois, but he too is an old servant.
Then there is Monsieur Droulard's mother who lived with him,
and myself. My name is Virginie Mesnard. I am a poor cousin of
the late Madame Droulard, M. Paul's wife, and I have been a
member of their mnage for over three years. I have now described
to you the household. There were also two guests staying in the
house.'
'And they were?'
'M. de Saint Alard, a neighbour of M. Droulard's in France.
Also an English friend, Mr John Wilson.'
'Are they still with you?'
'Mr Wilson, yes, but M. de Saint Alard departed yesterday.'
'And what is your plan, Mademoiselle Mesnard?'
'If you will present yourself at the house in half an hour's time,
I will have arranged some story to account for your presence. I
had better represent you to be connected with journalism in some
way. I shall say you have come from Paris, and that you have
brought a card of introduction from M. de Saint Alard. Madame
Droulard is very feeble in health, and will' pay little attention to
details.'
On mademoiselle's ingenious pretext I was admitted to the
house, and after a brief interview with the dead deputy's mother,
who was a wonderfully imposing and aristocratic figure though
obviously in failing health, I was made free of the premises.
I wonder, my friend (continued Poirot), whether you can possibly
figure to yourself the difficulties of my task? Here was a man
whose death had taken place three days previously. If there had been foul play, only one possibility was admittable -poironl And
I had had no chance of seeing the body, and there was no possibility
of examining, or analysing, any medium in which the poison could
have been administered. There were no clues, false or otherwise,
to consider. Had the man been poisoned? Had he died a
natural death? I, Hercule Poirot, with nothing to help me, had to
decide.
First, I interviewed the domestics, and with their aid, I
recapitulated the evening. I paid especial notice to the food at

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

dinner, and the method of serving it. The soup had been served
by M. Droulard himself from a tureen. Next a dish of cutlets,
then a chicken. Finally a compote of fruits. And all placed on the
table, and served by Monsieur himself. The coffee was brought in
a big pot to the dinner-table. Nothing there, mon ami - impossible
to poison one without poisoning alii
After dinner Madame Droulard had retired to her own apartments
and Mademoiselle Virginie had accompanied her. The
three men had adjourned to M. Droulard's study. Her they had
chatted amicably for some time, when suddenly, without any
warning, the deputy had fallen heavily to the ground. M. de Saint
Alard had rushed out and told Franvois to fetch a doctor immediately.
He said it was without doubt an apoplexy, explained
the man. But when the doctor arrived, the patient was past
help.
Mr John Wilson, to whom I was presented by Mademoiselle
Virginie, was what was known in those days as a regular John Bull
Englishman, middle-aged and burly. His account, delivered in
very British French, was substantially the same.
'Droulard went very red in the face, and down he fell.'
There was nothing further to be found out there. Next I went
to the scene of the tragedy, the study, and was left alone there at
my own request. So far there was nothing to support MademoiseIle
Mesnard's theory. I could not but believe that it was a delusion
on her part. Evidently she had entertained a romantic passion for
the dead man which had not permitted her to take a normal view
of the case. Nevertheless, I searched the study with meticulous
care. It was just possible that a .hypodermic needle might have
been introduced into the dead man's chair in such a way as to
allow of a fatal injection. The minute puncture it would cause was
likely to remain unnoticed. But I could discover no sign to support
that theory. I flung myself down in the chair with a gesture of
despair.
'Enfin, I abandon it!' I said aloud. 'There is not a clue any-wherel
Everything is perfectly normal.'
As I said the words, my eyes fell on a large box of chocolates
standing on a table near by, and my heart gave a leap. It might not

125


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

be a clue to M. D6roulard's death, but here at least was something
that was not normal. I lifted the lid. The box was full, untouched;
not a chocolate was missing - but that only made the peculiarity
that had caught my eye more striking. For, see you, Hastings,
while the box itself was pink, the lid was blue. Now, one often sees
a blue ribbon on a pink box, and vice versa, but a box of one
colour, and a lid of another - no; decidedly - fa ne se You
jamais!
I did not as yet see that this little incident was of any use to me, yet I determined to investigate it as being out of the ordinary.
I rang the bell for Franvois, and asked him if his late master had
been fond of sweets. A faint melancholy smile came to his
lips.
'Passionately fond of them, monsieur. He would always have a
box of chocolates in the house. He did not drink wine of any kind,
you see.'
'Yet this box has not been touched?' I lifted the lid to show him.
'Pardon, monsieur, but that was a new box purchased on the
day of his death, the other being nearly finished.'
'Then the other box was finished on the day of his death,' I said
slowly.
'Yes, monsieur, I found it empty in the morning and threw it
away.'
'Did M. D6roulard eat sweets at all hours of the day?'
'Usually after dinner, monsieur.'
I began to see light.
'Franvois,' I said, 'you can be discreet?'
'If there is need, monsieur.'
'Bon! Know, then, that I am of the police. Can you find me
that other box?'
'Without doubt, monsieur. It will be in the dustbin.'
He departed, and returned in a few minutes with a dust-covered
object. It was the duplicate of the box I held, save for the
fact that this time the box was blue and the lid was pink. I thanked
Francois, recommended him once more to be discreet, and left the house in the Avenue Louise without more ado.
Nt I called upon the doctor who had attended M. D6roulard.

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

With him I had a difficult task. He entrenched himself prettil,
behind a wall of learned phraseology, but I fancied that he was
quite as sure about the case as he would like to be.
'There have been many curious occurrences of the kind,' he
observed, when I had managed to disarm him somewhat. ',
sudden fit of anger, a violent emotion - after a heavy dinner, c'est entendu - then, with an access of rage, the blood flies to th
head, and pstl - there you are!'
'But M. Droulard had had no violent emotion.'
'No? I made sure that he had been having a stormy altercatio
with M. de Saint Alard.'
'Why should he?'
'C'est dvidentl' The doctor shrugged his shoulders. 'Was not
M. de Saint Alard a Catholic of the most fanatical? Their friendship
was being ruined by this question of church and state. Not
a day passed without discussions. To M. de Saint Alard, Ddroulard
appeared almost as Antichrist.'
This was unexpected, and gave me food for thought.
'One more question, Doctor: would it be possible to introduce a
fatal dose of poison into a chocolate?'
'It would be possible, I suppose,' said the doctor slowly. 'Pure
prussic acid would meet the case if there were no chance of
evaporation, and a tiny globule of anything might be swallowed unnoticed
- but it does not seem a very likely supposition. A chocolate
full of morphine or strychnine - ' He made a wry face. 'You
comprehend, M. Poirot - one bite would be enoughl The unwary
one would not stand upon ceremony.'
'Thank you, M. le Docteur.'
I withdrew. Next I made inquiries of the chemists, especially
those in the neighbourhood of the Avenue Louise. It is good to
be of the police. I got the information I wanted without any
trouble. Only in one case could I hear of any poison having been
supplied to the house in question. This was some eye drops
atropine sulphate for Madame Droulard. Atropine is a potent
poison, and for the moment I was elated, but the symptoms of
atropine poisoning are closely allied to those of ptomaine, and
bear no resemblance to those I was studying. Besides, the pre127



POIROT'S EARLY CASES

8eription was an old one. Madame Droulard had suffered from
cataract in both eyes for many years.
I was turning away discouraged when the chemist's voice called
me back.
'Un moment, M. Poirot. I remember, the girl who brought that
prescription, she said something about having to go on to the English chemist. You might try there.'
I did. Once more enforcing my official status, I got the information
I wanted. On the day before M. Droulard's death they had
made up a prescription for Mr John Wilson. Not that there was
any making up about it. They were simplylittle tablets of trinitrine.
I asked if I might see some. He showed me them, and my heart
beat faster - for the tiny tablets were of chocolate. 'It is a poison?' I asked.
'No, monsieur.'
'Can you describe to me its effect?'
'It lowers the blood-pressure. It is given for some forms of
heart trouble - angina pectoris for instance. It relieves the arterial
tem4on. In arteriosclerosis - '
I interrupted him. 'Ma foil This rigmarole says nothing to me.
Does it cause the face to flush?'
'Certainly it does.'
'And supposing I ate ten - twenty of your little tablets, what
then?'
'I should not advise you to attempt it,' he replied drily.
'And yet you say it is not poison?'
'There are many things not called poison which can kill a man,'
he replied as before.
I left the shop elated. At last, things had begun to marchl
I now knew that John Wilson held the means for the crime but
what about the motive? He had come to Belgium on business,
and had asked M. Droulard, whom he knew slightly, to put him
up. There was apparently no way in which Droulard's death
could benefit him. Moreover, I discovered by inquiries in England
that he had suffered for some years from that painful form of heart
disease known as angina. Therefore he had a genuine right to have
those tablets in his possession. Nevertheless, I was convinced that

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

someone had gone to the chocolate box, opening the full one first
by mistake, and had abstracted the contents of the last chocolate,
cramming in instead as manylittle trinitrin tablets as it would hold.
The chocolates were large ones. Between twenty or thirty
tablets, I felt sure, could have been inserted. But who had done
this?
There were two guests in the house. John Wilson had the means.
Saint Alard had the motive. Remember, he was a fanatic, and there
is no fanatic like a religious fanatic. Could he, by any means, have
got hold of John Wilson's trinitrine?
Another little idea came to me. Aht You smile at my little ideas[
Why had Wilson run out of trinitrine? Surely he would bring an
adequate supply from England. I called once more at the house in
the Avenue Louise. Wilson was out, but I saw the girl who did his room, Flicie. I demanded of her immediately whether i was
not true that M. Wilson had lost a bottle from his washstand some
little time ago. The girl responded eagerly. It was quite true. She,
Flicie, had been blamed for it. The English gentleman had
evidently thought that she had broken it, and did not like to say so.
Whereas she had never even touched it. Without doubt it was
Jeannette - always nosing round where she had no business
tobe-
I calmed the flow of words, and took my leave. I knew now all
that I wanted to know. It remained for me to prove my case. That,
I felt, would not be easy. I might be sure that Saint Alard had
removed the bottle of trinitrine from John Wilson's washstand, but
to convince others, I would have to produce evidence. And I had
none to producei
Never mind. I kneo - that was the great thing. You remember
our difficulty in the Styles case, Hastings? There again, I knew but
it took me a long time to find the last link which made my
chain of evidence against the murderer complete.
I asked for an interview with Mademoiselle Mesnard. She came
at once. I demanded of her the address of M. de Saint Alard. A
look of trouble came over her face.
'Why do you want it, monsieur?'
'Mademoiselle, it is necessary.'

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

She seemed doubtful - troubled.
'He can tell you nothing. He is a man whose thoughts are not
in this world. He hardly notices what goes on around him.'
'Possibly, mademoiselle. Nevertheless, he was an old friend of
M. D6roulard's. There may be things he can tell me - things of
the past - old grudges - old love-affairs.'
The girl flushed and bit her lip. 'As you please - but - but - I
feel sure now that I have been mistaken. It was good of you to
accede to my demand, but I was upset - almost distraught at the
time. I see now that there is no mystery to solve. Leave it, I beg
of you, monsieur.'
I eyed her closely.
'Mademoiselle,' I said, 'it is sometimes difficult for a dog to
find a scent, but once he has found it, nothing on earth will make
him leave it! That is if he is a good dogl And I, mademoiselle, I,
Hercule Poirot, am a very good dog.'
Without a word she turned away. A few minutes later she
returned with the address written on a sheet of paper. I left the
house. Francois was waiting for me outside. He looked at me
anxiously.
'There is no news, monsieur?'
'None as yet, my friend.'
'Ahl Pauvre Monsieur D6roulard!' he sighed. 'I too was of his
way of thinking. I do not care for priests. Not that I would say so
in the house. The women are all devout - a good thing perhaps. Madame est trds pieuse - et Mademoiselle Virginie aussi.'
Mademoiselle Virginie? Was she 'trds pieuse?' Thinking of the
tear-stained passionate face I had seen that first day, I wondered.
Having obtained the address of M. de Saint Alard, I wasted no
time. I arrived in the neighbourhood of his chfiteau in the Ardennes
but it was some days before I could find a pretext for gaining
admission to the house. In the end I did - how do you think - as
a plumber, mon ami! It was the affair of a moment to arrange a neat
little gas leak in his bedroom. I departed for my tools, and took
care to return with them at an hour when I knew I should have the
field pretty well to myself. What I was searching for, I hardly
knew. The one thing needful, I could not believe there was any

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


chance of finding. He would never have run the risk of keeping
it.

Still when I found a little cupboard above the washstand locked,
I could not resist the temptation of seeing what was inside it.
The lock was quite a simple one to pick. The door swung open.
It was full of old bottles. I took them up one by one with a
trembling hand. Suddenly, I uttered a cry. Figure to yourself,
my friend, I held in my hand a little phial with an English chemist's

label. On it were the words: 'Trinitrine Tablets. One to be taken
olen required. Mr Jol:n Wilson.'

I controlled my emotion, closed the little cupboard, slipped the
bottle into my pocket, and continued to repair the gas leak! One
must be methodical. Then I left the chateau, and took train for
my own country as soon as possible. I arrived in Brussels late that
night. I was writing out a report for the prfet in the morning,
when a note was brought to me. It was from old Madame Ddrou-lard,
and it summoned me to the house in the Avenue Louise
without delay.

Francois opened the door to me.

'Madame la Baronne is awaiting you.'

He conducted me to her apartments. She sat in state in a large
armchair. There was no sign of Mademoiselle Virginie.

'M. Poirot,' said the old lady. 'I have just learned that you are

not what you pretend to be. You are a police officer.'

'That is so, madame.'

'You came here to inquire into the circumstances of my son's
death?'

Again I replied: 'That is so, madame.'

'I should be glad if you would tell me what progress you have
made.'

I hesitated.

'First I would like to know how you have learned all this,
madame.'

'From one who is no longer of this world.'

Her words, and the brooding way she uttered them, sent a chill
to my heart. I was incapable of speech.

'Wherefore, monsieur, I would beg of you most urgently to tell


131


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


me exactly what progress you have made in your investigation.'
'Madame, my investigation is finished.'
'My son?'

'Was killed deliberately.'
'You know by whom?'
'Yes, madame.'
'Who, then?'

'M. de Saint Alard.'

The old lady shook her head.

'You are wrong. M. de Saint Alard is incapable of such a crime.'
'The proofs are in my hands.'

'I beg of you once more to tell me all.'

This time I obeyed, going over each step that had led me to the
discovery of the truth. She listened attentively. At the end she
nodded her head.

'Yes, yes, it is all as you say, all but one thing. It was not M. de
Saint Alard who killed my son. It was I, his mother.'

I stared at her. She continued to nod her head gently.

'It is well that I sent for you. It is the providence of the good
God that Virginie told me before she departed for the convent,
what she had done. Listen, M. Poirofl My son was an evil man.
He persecuted the church. He led a life of mortal sin. He dragged
down other souls beside his own. But there was worse than that.
As I came out of my room in this house one morning, I saw my
daughter-in-law standing at the head of the stairs. She was reading
a letter. I saw my son steal up behind her. One swift push, and
she fell, striking her head on the marble steps. When they picked
her up she was dead. My son was a murderer, and only I, his
mother, knew it.'

She closed her eyes for a moment. 'You cannot conceive,
monsieur, of my agony, my despair. What was I to do? Denounce
him to the police? I could not bring myself to do it. It was my
duty, but my flesh was weak. Besides, would they believe me?
My eyesight had been failing for some time - they would say I
was mistaken. I kept silence. But my conscience gave me no peace.
By keeping silence I too was a murderer. My son inherited his
wife's money. He flourished as the green bay tree. And now he


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


was to have a Minister's portfolio. His persecution of the church
would be redoubled. And there was Virginie. She, poor child,
beautiful, naturally pious, was fascinated by him. He had a strange
and terrible power over women. I saw it coming. I was powerless
to prevent it. He had no intention of marrying her. The time came
when she was ready to yield everything to him.

'Then I saw my path clear. He was my son. I had given him
life. I was responsible for him. He had killed one woman's body,
now he would kill another's soull I went to Mr Wilson's room, and
took the bottle of tablets. He had once said laughingly that there
were enough in it to kill a manl I went into the study and opened
the big box of chocolates that always stood on the table. I opened
a new box by mistake. The other was on the table also. There was
just one chocolate left in it. That simplified things, bio one ate
chocolates except my son and Virginie. I would keep her with me
that night. All went as I had planned - '

She paused, closing her eyes a minute then opened them again.
'M. Poirot, I am in your hands. They tell me I have not many
days to live. I am willing to answer for my action before the good
God. Must I answer for it on earth also?'

I hesitated. 'But the empty bottle, madame,' I said to gain time.
'How came that into M. de Saint Alard's possession?'

'When he came to say goodbye to me, monsieur, I slipped it
into his pocket. I did not know how to get rid of it. I am so infirm
that I cannot move about much without help, and finding it
empty in my rooms might have caused suspicion. You understand,
monsieur - ' she drew herself up to her full height - 'it was with
no idea of casting suspicion on M. de Saint Alardl I never dreamed
of such a thing. I thought his valet would find an empty bottle
and throw it away without question.'

I bowed my head. 'I comprehend, madame,' I said.

'And your decision, monsieur?'

Her voice was firm and unfaltering, her head held as high as ever.
I rose to my feet.

'Madame,' I said, 'I have the honour to wish you good day.
I have made my investigations - and failed! The matter is
closed.'


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

He was silent for a moment, then said quietly: 'She died just a
week later. Mademoiselle Virginie passed through her novitiate,
and duly took the veil. That, my friend, is the story. I must admit
that I do not make a fine figure in it.'
'But that was hardly a failure,' I expostulated. 'What else could
you have thought under the circumstances?'
'Ah, sacra, rnon ami,' cried Poirot, becoming suddenly animated.
'Is it that you do not see? But I was thirty-six times an idiotl
My grey cells, they functioned not at all. The whole time I had the
true clue in my hands.'
'What clue?'
'The chocolate boxl Do you not see? Would anyone in possession
of their full eyesight make such a mistake? I knew Madame
Droulard had cataract - the atropine drops told me that. There
was only one person in the household whose eyesight was such
that she could not see which lid to replace. It was the chocolate
box that started me on the track, and yet up to the end I failed
consistently to perceive its real significancel
'Also my psychology was at fault. Had M. de Saint Alard been
the criminal, he would never have kept an incriminating bottle.
Finding it was a proof of his innocence. I had learned already
from Mademoiselle Virginie that he was absent-minded. Altogether
it was a miserable affair that I have recounted to you there! Only
to you have I told the story. You comprehend, I do not figure well
in it! An old lady commits a crime in such a simple and clever
fashion that I, Hercule Poirot, am completely deceived. $apristi! It does not bear thinking of! Forget it. Or no - remember it, and
if you think at any time that I am growing conceited - it is not
likely, but it might arise.'
I concealed a smile.
'Eh bien, my friend, you shall say to me, "Chocolate box". Is
it agreed?'
'It's a bargainl'
'After all,' said Poirot reflectively, 'it was an experience! I, who
have undoubtedly the finest brain in Europe at present, can afford
to be magnanimousl'
'Chocolate box,' I murmured gently.

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'Pardon, mon ami?'

I looked at Poirot's innocent face, as he bent forward inquiringly,
and my heart smote me. I had suffered often at his hands, but I,
too, though not possessing the finest brain in Europe, could
afford to be magnanimous!

'Nothing,' I lied, and lit another pipe, smiling to myself.


135


CHAPTER XI


THE SUBMARINE PLANS


A note had been brought by special messenger. Poirot read it, and
a gleam of excitement and interest came into his eyes as he did so.
He dismissed the man with a few curt words and then turned to me.

'Pack a bag with all haste, my friend. We're going down to
Sharpies.'

I started at the mention of the famous country place of Lord
Alloway. Head of the newly formed Ministry of Defence, Lord
Alloway was a prominent member of the Cabinet. As Sir Ralph
Curtis, head of a great engineering firm, he had made his mark in
the House of Commons, and he was now freely spoken of as the
coming man, and the one most likely to be asked to form a ministry
should the turnouts as to Mr David MacAdam's health prove
well founded.

A big Rolls-Royce car was waiting for us below, and as we
glided off into the darkness, I plied Poirot with questions.

'What on earth can they want us for at this time of night?' I
demanded. It was past eleven.

Poirot shook his head. 'Something of the most urgent, without
doubt.'

'I remember,' I said, 'that some years ago there was some rather
ugly scandal about Ralph Curtis, as he then was - some jugglery
with shares, I believe. In the end, he was completely exonerated;
but perhaps something of the kind has arisen again?'

'It would hardly be necessary for him to send for me in the
middle of the night, my friend.'

I was forced to agree, and the remainder of the journey was
passed in silence. Once out of London, the powerful car forged
rapidly ahead, and we arrived at Sharples in a little under the hour.

A pontifical butler conducted us at once to a small study where
Lord Alloway was awaiting us. He sprang up to greet us - a tall,


136


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


spare man who seemed actually to radiate power and vitality.

'M. Poirot, I am delighted to see you. It is the second time the
Government has demanded your services. I remember only too
well what you did for us during the war, when the Prime Mini-ster
was kidnapped in that astounding fashion. Your masterly
deductions - and may I add, your discretion? - saved the situ-ation.'

Poirot's eyes twinkled a little.

'Do I gather then, milor', that this is another case for - dis-cretion?'

'Most emphatically. Sir Harry and I - oh, let me introduce you
- Admiral Sir Harry Weardale, our First Sea Lord - M. Poirot

and - let me see, Captain - '

'Hastings,' I supplied.

'I've often heard of you, M. Poirot,' said Sir Harry, shaking
hands. 'This is a most unaccountable business, and if you can
solve it, we'll be extremely grateful to you.'

I liked the First Sea Lord immediately, a square, bluff sailor of
the good old-fashioned type.

Poirot looked inquiringly at them both, and Alloway took up
the tale.

'Of course, you understand that all this is in confidence, M.
Poirot. We have had a most serious loss. The plans of the new g

type of submarine have been stolen.'

'When was that?'

'Tonight - less than three hours ago. You can appreciate
perhaps, M. Poirot,,.the magnitude of the disaster. It is essential
that the loss should not be made public. I will give you the facts as
briefly as possible. My guests over the week-end were the Admiral,
here, his wife and son, and a Mrs Conrad, a lady well known in
London society. The ladies retired to bed early - about ten
o'clock; so did Mr Leonard Weardale. Sir Harry is down here
partly for the purpose of discussing the construction of this new
type of submarine with me. Accordingly, I asked Mr Fitzroy, my
secretary, to get out the plans from the safe in the corner there, and
to arrange them ready for me, as well as various other documents
that bore upon the subject in hand. While he was doing this, the


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


Admiral and I strolled up and down the terrace, smoking cigars
and enjoying the warm June air. We finished our smoke and our
chat, and decided to get down to business. Just as we turned at
the far end of the terrace, I fancied I saw a shadow slip out of the
french window here, cross the terrace, and disappear. I paid very
little attention, however. I knew Fitzroy to be in this room, and
it never entered my head that anything might be amiss. There,
of course, I am to blame. Well, we retraced our steps along the
terrace and entered this room by the window just as Fitzroy
entered it from the hall.

' "Got everything out we are likely to need, Fitzroy?" I asked.

' "I think so, Lord Alloway. The papers are all on your desk,"
he answered. And then he wished us both goodnight.

' "Just wait a minute," I said, going to the desk. "I may want
something I haven't mentioned."

'I looked quickly through the papers that were lying there.

' "You've forgotten the most important of the lot, Fitzroy," I
said. "The actual plans of the submarine!"

' "The plans are right on top, Lord Alloway."

' "Oh no, they're not," I said, turning over the papers.
' "But I put them there not a minute ago?'
' "Well, they're not here now," I said.

'Fitzroy advanced with a bewildered expression on his face.
The thing seemed incredible. We turned over the papers on the
desk; we hunted through the safe; but at last we had to make up
our minds to it'that the papers were gone - and gone within the
short space of about three minutes while Fitzroy was absent from
the room.'

'Why did he leave the room?' asked Poirot quickly.

'Just what I asked him,' exclaimed Sir Harry.

'It appears,' said Lord Alloway, 'that just when he had finished
arranging the papers on my desk, he was startled by hearing a
woman scream. He dashed out into the hall. On the stairs he
discovered Mrs Conrad's French maid. The girl looked very white
and upset, and declared that she had seen a ghost - a tall figure
dressed all in white that moved without a sound. Fitzroy laughed
at her fears and told her, in more or less polite language, not to


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

be a fool. Then he returned to this room just as we entered from
the window.'
'It all seems very clear,' said Poirot thoughtfully. 'The only
question is, was the maid an accomplice? Did she scream by
arrangement with her confederate lurking outside, or was he
merely waiting there in the hope of an opportunity presenting
itself? It was a man, I suppose - not a woman you saw?'
'I can't tell you, M. Poirot. It was just a - shadow.'
The Admiral gave such a peculiar snort that it could not fail to
attract attention.
'M. l'Amiral has something to say, I think,' said Poirot quietly,
with a slight smile. 'You saw this shadow, Sir Harry?'
'No, I didn't,' returned the other. 'And neither did Alloway.
The branch of a tree flapped, or something, and then afterwards,
when we discovered the theft, he leaped to the conclusion that he
had seen someone pass across the terrace. His imagination played
a trick on him; that's all.'
'I am not usually credited with having much imagination,' said
Lord Alloway with a slight smile.
'Nonsense, we've all got imagination. We can all work ourselves
up to believe that we've seen more than we have. I've had a lifetime
of experience at sea, and I'll back my eyes against those of any
landsman. I was looking right down the terrace, and I'd have seen
the same if there was anything to see.'
He was quite excited over the matter. Poirot rose and stepped
quickly to the window.
'You permit?' he asked. 'We must settle this point if possible.'
He went out upon the terrace, and we followed him. He had
taken an electric torch from his pocket, and was playing the light
along the edge of the grass that bordered the terrace.
'Where did he cross the terrace, milor'?' he asked.
'About opposite the window, I should say.'
Poirot continued to play the torch for some minutes longer,
walking the entire length of the terrace and back. Then he shut
it off and straightened himself up.
'Sir Harry is right - and you are wrong, milor',' he said quietly.
'It rained heavily earlier this evening. Anyone who passed over

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

that grass could not avoid leaving footmarks. But there are none none
at all.'
His eyes went from one man's face to the other's. Lord Alloway
looked bewildered and unconvinced; the Admiral expressed a
noisy gratification.
'Knew I couldn't be wrong,' he declared. 'Trust my eyes
anywhere.'
He was such a picture of an honest old sea-dog that I could not
help smiling.
'So that brings us to the people in the house,' said Poirot
smoothly. 'Let us come inside again. Now, milor', while Mr
Fitzroy was speaking to the maid on the stairs, could anyone have
seized the opportunity to enter the study from the hall?'
Lord Alloway shook his head.
'Quite impossible - they would have had to pass him in order
to do so.'
'And Mr Fitzroy himself - you are sure of him, eh?'
Lord Alloway flushed.
'Absolutely, M. Poirot. I will answer confidently for my
secretary. It is quite impossible that he should be concerned in
the matter in any way.'
'Everything seems to be impossible,' remarked Poirot rather
drily. 'Possibly the plans attached to themselves a little pair of
wings, and flew away - comme fa!' He blew his lips out like a
comical cherub.
'The whole thing is impossible,' declared Lord Alloway
impatiently. 'But I beg, M. Poirot, that you will not dream of
suspecting Fitzroy. Consider for one moment - had he wished to
take the plans, what could have been easier for him than to take
a tracing of them without going to the trouble of stealing them?'
'There, milor',' said Poirot with approval, 'you make a remark &n juste - I see that you have a mind orderly and methodical. L'Angleterre is happy in possessing you.'
Lord Alloway looked rather embarrassed by this sudden burst
of praise. Poirot returned to the matter in hand.
'The room in which you had been sitting all the evening - '
'The drawing-room? Yes?'

140


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'That also has a window on the terrace, since I remember your
saying you went out that way. Would it not be possible for someone
to come out by the drawing-room window and in by this one

while Mr Fitzroy was out of the room, and return the same way?'
'But we'd have seen them,' objected the Admiral.

'Not if you had your backs turned, walking the other way.'

'Fitzroy was only out of the room a few minutes, the time it
would take us to walk to the end and back.'

'No matter - it is a possibility - in fact, the only one as things
stand.'

'But there was no one in the drawing-room when we went out,'
said the Admiral.

'They may have come there afterwards.'

'You mean,' said Lord Alloway slowly, 'that when Fitzroy
heard the maid scream and went out, someone was already con-cealed
in the drawing-room, that they darted in and out through
the windows, and only left the drawing-room when Fitzroy had
returned to this room?'

'The methodical mind again,' said Poirot, bowing.
'You express the matter perfectly.'
'One of the servants, perhaps?'

'Or a guest. It was Mrs Conrad's maid who screamed. What
exactly can you tell me of Mrs Conrad?'

Lord Alloway considered for a minute.

'I told you that she is a lady well known in society. That is true
in the sense that she gives large parties, and goes everywhere.
But very little is known as to where she really comes from, and
what her past life has been. She is a lady who frequents diplomatic
and Foreign Office circles as much as possible. The Secret Service
is inclined to ask - why?'

'I see,' said Poirot. 'And she was asked here this week-end - '
'So that - shall we say? - we might observe her at close quarter.'

'Parfaitemenfl It is possible that she has turned the tables on
you rather neatly.'

Lord Alloway looked discomfited, and Poirot continued: 'Tell
me, milor', was any reference made in her hearing to the subjects
you and the Admiral were going to discuss together?'


141


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

that grass could not avoid leaving footmarks. But there are none none
at all.'
His eyes went from one man's face to the other's. Lord Alloway
looked bewildered and unconvinced; the Admiral expressed a
noisy gratification.
'Knew I couldn't be wrong,' he declared. 'Trust my eyes
anywhere.'
He was such a picture of an honest old sea-dog that I could not
help smiling.
'So that brings us to the people in the house,' said Poirot
smoothly. 'Let us come inside again. Now, milor', while Mr
Fitzroy was speaking to the maid on the stairs, could anyone have
seized the opportunity to enter the study from the hall?'
Lord Alloway shook his head.
'Quite impossible - they would have had to pass him in order
to do so.'
'And Mr Fitzroy himself - you are sure of him, eh?'
Lord Alloway flushed.
'Absolutely, M. Poirot. I will answer confidently for my
secretary. It is quite impossible that he should be concerned in
the matter in any way.'
'Everything seems to be impossible,' remarked Poirot rather
drily. 'Possibly the plans attached to themselves a little pair of
wings, and flew away - comme la!' He blew his lips out like a
comical cherub.
'The whole thing is impossible,' declared Lord Alloway
impatiently. 'But I beg, M. Poirot, that you will not dream of
suspecting Fitzroy. Consider for one moment - had he wished to
take the plans, what could have been easier for him than to take
a tracing of them without going to the trouble of stealing them?'
'There, milor',' said Poirot with approval, 'you make a remark bn juste - I see that you have a mind orderly and methodical. L',dngleterre is happy in possessing you.'
Lord Alloway looked rather embarrassed by this sudden burst
of praise. Poirot returned to the matter in hand.
'The room in which you had been sitting all the evening - '
'The drawing-room? Yes?'

140


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'That also has a window on the terrace, since I remember your
aying you went out that way. Would it not be possible for someone
to come out by the drawing-room window and irt by this one
while Mr Fitzroy was out of the room, and return the same way?'
'But we'd have seen them,' objected the Admiral.
'Not if you had your backs turned, walking the other way.'
'Fitzroy was only out of the room a few minutes, the time it
would take us to walk to the end and back.'
'No matter - it is a possibility - in fact, the only one as thing
stand.'
'But there was no one in the drawing-room when we went out,'
said the Admiral.
'They may have come there afterwards.'
'You mean,' said Lord Alloway slowly, 'that when Fitzroy
heard the maid scream and went out, someone was already concealed
in the drawing-room, that they darted in and out through
the windows, and only left the drawing-room when Fitzroy had
returned to this room?'
'The methodical mind again,' said Poirot, bowing.
'You express the matter perfectly.'
'One of the servants, perhaps?'
'Or a guest. It was Mrs Conrad's maid who screamed. What
exactly can you tell me of Mrs Conrad?'
Lord Alloway considered for a minute.
'I told you that she is a lady well known in society. Thst is true
in the sense that she gives large parties, and goes everywhere.
But very little is known as to where she really comes from, and
what her past life has been. She is a lady who frequents diplomatic
and Foreign Oce circles as much as possible. The Secret Service is inclined to ask - why?'
'I see,' said Poirot. 'And she was asked here this week-end - '
'$o that - shall we say? - we might observe her at close quarters.'
'ParfaitemenH It is possible that she has turned the tables on you rathe neatly.'
Lord Alloway looked discomfited, and Poirot continued: 'Tell
me, tailor', was any reference made in her hearing to the subjects
you and the Admiral were going to discuss together?'

141


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'Yes,' admitted the other. 'Sir Harry said: "And now for our
submarinel To workl" or something of that sort. The others had
left the room, but she had come back for a book.'

'I see,' said Poirot thoughtfully. 'Milor', it is very late - but this
is an urgent affair. I would like to question the members of this
house-party at once if it is possible.'

'It can be managed, of course,' said Lord Ailoway. 'The awk-ward
thing is, we don't want to let it get about more than can be
helped. Of course, Lady Juliet Weardale and young Leonard are
all right - but Mrs Conrad, if she is not guilty, is rather a different
proposition. Perhaps you could just state that an important paper
is missing, without specifying what it is, or going into any of the
circumstances of the disappearance?'

'Exactly what I was about to propose myself,' said Poirot,
beaming. 'In fact, in all three cases. Monsieur the Admiral will
pardon me, but even the best of wives - '

'No offence,' said Sir Harry. 'All women talk, bless 'em! I wish
Juliet would talk a little more and play bridge a little less. But
women are like that nowadays, never happy unless they're dancing
or gambling. I'll get Juliet and Leonard up, shall I, Ailoway?'

'Thank you. I'll call the French maid. M. Poirot will want to
see her, and she can rouse her mistress. I'll attend to it now. In the
meantime, I'll send Fitzroy along.'


Mr Fitzroy was a pale, thin young man with pince-nez and a frigid
expression. His statement was practically word for word what
Lord Alloway had already told us.

'What is your own theory, Mr Fitzroy?'

Mr Fitzroy shrugged his shoulders.

'Undoubtedly someone who knew the hang of things was
waiting his chance outside. He could see what went on through
the window, and he slipped in when I left the room. It's a pity
Lord Ailoway didn't give chase then and there when he saw the
fellow leave.'

Poirot did not undeceive him. Instead he asked: 'Do you believe
the story of the French maid - that she had seen a ghost?'

'Well, hardly, M. Poirotl'


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'I mean - that she really thought so?'
'Oh, as to that, I can't say. She certainly seemed rather upset.
She had her hands to her head.'
'Ahal' cried Poirot with the air of one who has made a discovery.
'Is that so indeed - and she was without doubt a pretty girl?'
'I didn't notice particularly,' said Mr Fitzroy in a repressive
voice.
'You did not see her mistress, I suppose?'
'As a matter of fact, I did. She was in the gallery at the top o!
the steps and was calling her - "Loniel" Then she saw me - and
of course retired.'
'Upstairs,' said Poirot, frowning.
'Of course, I realize that all this is very unpleasant for me - or
rather would have been, if Lord Alloway had not chanced to see
the man actually leaving. In any case, I should be glad if you
would make a point of searching my room - and myself.'
'You really wish that?'
'Certainly I do.'
What Poirot would have replied I do not know, but at that
moment Lord Alloway reappeared and informed us that the
two ladies and Mr Leonard Weardale were in the drawing-
room.
The women were in becoming negligees. Mrs Conrad wa a beautiful woman of thirty-five, with golden hair and a slight
tendency to embonpoint. Lady Juliet Weardale must have been
forty, tall and dark, very thin, still beautiful, with exquisitehand
and feet, and a resfiess, haggard manner. Her son was rather an
effeminate-looking young man, as great a contrast to his bluff,
hearty father as could well be imagined.
Poirot gave forth the LITTLE rigmarole we had agreed upon, and
then explained that he was anxious to know if anyone had heard
or seen anything that night which might assist us.
Turning to Mrs Conrad first, he asked her if she would be o
kind as to inform him exactly what her movement had been.
'Let me see... I went upstairs. I rang for my maid. Then, a
she did not put in an appearance, I came out and called her. I
could hear her talking on the stairs. After she had brushed my

143


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


hair, I sent her away - she was in a very curious nervous state..

I read awhile and then went to bed.'

'And you, Lady Juliet?'

'I went straight upstairs and to bed. I was very tired.'

'What about your book, dear?' asked Mrs Conrad with a swe
smile.

'My book?' Lady Juliet flushed.

'Yes, you know, when I sent Ldonie away, you were coming up
the stairs. You had been down to the drawing-room for a books
you said.'

'Oh yes, I did go down. I - I forgot.'

Lady Juliet clasped her hands nervously together.
'Did you hear Mrs Conrad's maid scream, milady?'
'No - no, I didn't.'

'How curious - because you must have been in the drawing-room
at the time.'

'I heard nothing,' said Lady Juliet in a firmer voice.
Poirot turned to young Leonard.
'Monsieur?'

'Nothing doing. I went straight upstairs and turned in.'
Poirot stroked his chin.

'Alas, I fear there is nothing to help me here. Mesdames and
monsieur, I regret - I regret infinitely to have deranged you from
your slumbers for so little. Accept my apologies, I pray of you.'

Gesticulating and apologizing, he marshalled them out. He
returned with the French maid, a pretty, impudent-looking girl
Alloway and Weardale had gone out with the ladies.

'Now, mademoiselle,' said Poirot in a brisk tone, 'let us have
the truth. Recount to me no histories. Why did you scream on
stairs?'

'Ah, monsieur, I saw a tall figure - all in white - '

Poirot arrested her with an energetic shake of his forefinger.
'Did I not say, recount to me no histories? I will make a
guess. He kissed you, did he not? M. Leonard Weardale, I
mean?'

'Eh b/n, mom'/eur, and after all, what is a kiss?'

'Under the circumstances, it is most natural,' replied Poiro


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

gallantly. 'I myself, or Hastings here - but tell me just what
occurred.'
'He came up behind me, and caught me. I was startled, and I
screamed. If I had known, I would not have screamed - but he
came upon me like a cat. Then came M./e secrtaire. M. Leonard
flew up the stairs. And what could I say? Especially to a jeune homme comme fa - tellement comme il faut? Ma foi, I invent a ghost.'
'And all is explained,' cried Poirot genially.'You then mounted
to the chamber of Madame your mistress. Which is her room, by
the way?'
'It is at the end, monsieur. That way.'
'Directly over the study, then. B/eh, mademoiselle, I will detain
you no longer. And la prochainefois, do not scream.'
Handing her out, he came back to me with a smile.
'An interesting case, is it not, Hastings? I begin to have a few
little ideas. Et vous?'
'What was Leonard Weardale doing on the stairs? I don't like
that young man, Poirot. He's a thorough young rake, I should say.'
'I agree with you, mon am£' 'Fitzroy seems an honest fellow.'
'Lord Alloway is certainly insistent on that point.'
'And yet there is something in his manner - '
'That is almost too good to be true? I felt it myself. On the other
hand, our friend Mrs Conrad is certainly not good at all.'
'And her room is over the study,' I said musingly, and keeping
a sharp eye on Poirot.
He shook his head with a slight smile.
'No, mort ami, I cannot bring myself seriously to believe that
that immaculate lady swarmed down the chimney, or let herself
down from the balcony.'
As he spoke, the door opened, and to my great surprise, Lady
Juliet Weardale flitted in.
'M. Poirot,' she said somewhat breathlessly, 'can I speak to you
alone?'
'Milady, Captain Hastings is as my other self. You can speak
before him as though he were a thing of no account, not there at
all. Be seated, I pray you.'

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


She sat down, still keeping her eyes fixed on Poirot.

'What I have to say is - rather difficult. You are in charge of
this case. If the - papers were to be returned, would that end the

matter? I mean, could it be done without questions being asked?'
Poirot stared hard at her.

'Let me understand you, madame. They are to be placed in my
hands - is that right? And I am to return them to Lord Alloway
on the condition that he asks no questions as to where I got
them?'

She bowed her head. 'That is what I mean. But I must be sure
there will be no - publicity.'

'I do not think Lord Alloway is particularly anxious for
publicity,' said Poirot grimly.

'You accept then?' she cried eagerly in response.

'A little moment, milady. It depends on how soon you can place

those papers in my hands.'

'Almost immediately.'

Poirot glanced up at the clock.

'How soon, exactly?'

'Say - ten minutes,' she whispered.

'I accept, milady.'

She hurried from the room. I pursed my mouth up for a whistle.
'Can you sum up the situation for me, Hastings?'
'Bridge,' I replied succinctly.

'Ah, you remember the careless words of Monsieur the Admirall
What a memoryl I felicitate you, Hastings.'

We said no more, for Lord Alloway came in, and looked
inquiringly at Poirot.

'Have you any further ideas, M. Poirot? I am afraid the answer
to your questions have been rather disappointing.'

'Not at all, milor'. They have been quite sufficiently illuminat-ing.
It will be unnecessary for me to stay here any longer, and o,

with your permission, I will return at once to London.'

Lord Alloway seemed dumbfounded.

'But - but what have you discovered? Do you know who took
the plans?'

'Yes, milor', I do. Tell me - in the case of the papers being


146


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

returned to you anonymously, you would prosecute no further
inquiry?'
Lord Alloway stared at him.
'Do you mean on payment of a sum of money?'
'No, milor', returned unconditionally.'
'Of course, the recovery of the plans is the great thing,' said
Lord Alloway slowly. He still looked puzzled and uncomprehending.
'Then I should seriously recommend you to adopt that course.
Only you, the Admiral and your secretary know of the loss. Only
they need know of the restitution. And you may count on me to
support you in every way - lay the mystery on my shoulders.
You asked me to restore the papers - I have done so. You know
no more.' He rose and held out his hand. 'Milor', I am glad to
have met you. I have faith in you - and your devotion to England.
You will guide her destinies with a strong, sure hand.'
'M. Poirot - I swear to you that I will do my best. It may be a
fauk, or it may be a virtue - but I believe in myself.'
'So does every great man. Me, I am the same!' said Poirot
grandiloquently.

The car came round to the door in a few minutes, and Lord
Alloway bade us farewell on the steps with renewed cordiality.
'That is a great man, Hastings,' said Poirot as we drove off.
'He has brains, resource, power. He is the strong man that
England needs to guide her through these difficult days of
reconstruction.'
'I'm quite ready to agree with all you say, Poirot - but what
about Lady Juliet? Ishe to return the papers straight to Alloway?
What will she think when she finds you have gone off without a
word?'
'Hastings, I will ask you a little question. Why, when she was
talking with me, did she not hand me the plans then and there?'
'She hadn't got them with her.'
'Perfectly. How long would it take her to fetch them from her
room? Or from any hiding-place in the house? You need not
answer. I will tell you. Probably about two minutes and a haiti

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

Yet she asks for ten minutes. Why? Clearly she has to obtain them
from some other person, and to reason or argue with that person
before they give them up. Now, what person could that be? Not
Mrs Conrad, clearly, but a member of her own family, her husband
or son. Which is it likely to be? Leonard Weardale said he went
straight to bed. We know that to be untrue. Supposing his mother
went to his room and found it empty; supposing she came down
filled with a nameless dread - he is no beauty that son of hers[
She does not find him, but later she hears him deny that he ever
left his room. She leaps to the conclusion that he is the thief.
Hence her interview with me.
'But, mon ami, we know sometling that Lady Juliet does not.
We know that her son could not have been in the study, because
he was on the stairs, making love to the pretty French maid.
Although she does not know it, Leonard Weardale has an
alibi.'
'Well, then, who did steal the papers? We seem to have
eliminated everybody - Lady Juliet, her son, Mrs Conrad, the
French maid '
'Exactly. Use your little grey cells, my friend. The solution
stares you in the face.'
I shook my head blankly.
'But yes! If you would only persevere! See, then, Fitzroy goes
out of the study; he leaves the papers on the desk. A few minutes
later Lord Alloway enters the room, goes to the desk, and the
papers are gone. Only two things are possible: either Fitzroy did not leave the papers on the desk, but put them in his pocket - and
that is not reasonable, because, as Alloway pointed out, he could
have taken a tracing at his own convenience any time - or else the
papers were still on the desk when Lord Alloway went to it - in
which case they went into his pocket.'
'Lord Alloway the thief,' I said, dumbfounded. 'But why?
Why?'
'Did you not tell me of some scandal in the past? He was
exonerated, you said. But suppose, after all, it had been true? In
English public life there must be no scandal. If this were raked up
and proved against him now - goodbye to his political career.

148


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


We will suppose that he was being blackmailed, and the price
asked was the submarine plans.'

'But the man's a black traitorl' I cried.

'Oh no, he is not. He is clever and resourceful. Supposing, my
friend, that he copied those plans, making - for he is a clever
engineer - a slight alteration in each part which will render them
quite impracticable. He hands the faked plans to the enemy's
agent - Mrs Conrad, I fancy; but in order that no suspicion of
their genuineness may arise, the plans must seem to be stolen.
He does his best to throw no suspicion on anyone in the house,
by pretending to see a man leaving the window. But there he ran
up against the obstinacy of the Admiral. So his next anxiety is
that no suspicion shall fall on Fitzroy.'

'This is all guesswork on your part, Poirot,' I objected.

'It is psychology, mon ami. A man who had handed over the
real plans would not be overscrupulous as to who was likely to
fall under suspicion. And why was he so anxious that no details
of the robbery should be given to Mrs Conrad? Because he had
handed over the faked plans earlier in the evening, and did not

want her to know that the theft could only have taken place later.'
'I wonder if you are right,' I said.

'Of course, I am right. I spoke to Alloway as one great man to
another - and he understood perfectly. You will see.'


One thing is quite certain. On the day when Lord Alloway became
Prime Minister, a cheque and a signed photograph arrived; on the
photograph were the words: ' To my discreet friend, Hercule Poirot-from
Alhnoay.'

I believe that the Z type of submarine is causing great exultation
in naval circles. They say it will revolutionize modern naval
warfare. I have heard that a certain foreign power essayed to
construct something of the same kind and the result was a dismal
failure. But I still consider that Poirot was guessing. He will do it
once too often one of these days.


149


CHAPTER XII


THE THIRD-FLOOR FLAT


'Botherl' said Pat.

With a deepening frown she rummaged wildly in the silken
trifle she called an evening bag. Two young men and another
girl watched her anxiously. They were all standing outside the
closed door of Patricia Garnett's flat.

'It's no good,' said Pat. 'It's not there. And now what shall
we do?'

'What is life without a latchkey?' murmured Jimmy Faulkener.

He was a short, broad-shouldered young man, with good-tempered
blue eyes.

Pat turned on him angrily. 'Don't make jokes, Jimmy. This is
serious.'

'Look again, Pat,' said Donovan Bailey. 'It must be there
somewhere.'

He had a lazy, pleasant voice that matched his lean, dark
figure.

'If you ever brought it out,' said the other girl, Mildred Hope.
'Of course I brought it out,' said Pat. 'I believe I gave it to one
of you two.' She turned on the man accusingly. 'I told Donovan
to take it for me.'

But she was not to find a scapegoat so easily. Donovan put in a
firm disclaimer, and Jimmy backed him up.

'I saw you put it in your bag, myself,' said Jimmy.

'Well, then, one of you dropped it out when you picked up my
bag. I've dropped it once or twice.'

'Once or twice[' said Donovan. 'You've dropped it a dozen
times at least, besides leaving it behind on every possible oc-casion.'

'I can't see why everything on earth doesn't drop out of it the
whole time,' said Jimmy.


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'The point is - how are we going to get in?' said Mildred.
She was a sensible girl, who kept to the point, but she was not
nearly so attractive as the impulsive and troublesome Pat.
All four of them regarded the closed door blankly.
'Couldn't the porter help?' suggested Jimmy. 'Hasn't he got a
master key or something of that kind?'
Pat shook her head. There were only two keys. One was inside
the flat hung up in the kitchen and the other was - or should be in
the maligned bag.
'If only the flat were on the ground floor,' wailed Pat. 'We could
have broken open a window or something. Donovan, you wouldn't
like to be a cat burglar, would you?'
Donovan declined firmly but politely to be a cat burglar.
'A flat on the fourth floor is a bit of an undertaking,' said
Jimmy.
'How about a fire-escape?' suggested Donovan.
'There isn't one.'
'There should be,' said Jimmy. 'A building five storeys high
ought to have a fire escape.'
'I dare say,' said Pat. 'But what should be doesn't help us. How
am I ever to get into my flat?'
'Isn't there a sort of thingummybob?' said Donovan. 'A thing
the tradesmen send up chops and brussels sprouts in?'
'The service lift,' said Pat. 'Oh yes, but it's only a sort of wire-
basket thing. Oh wait - I know. What about the coal lift?'
'Now that,' said Donovan, 'is an idea.'
Mildred made a discouraging suggestion. 'It'll be bolted,' she
said. 'In Pat's kitchen, I mean, on the inside.'
But the idea was instantly negatived.
'Don't you believe it,' said Donovan.
'Not in Pat's kitchen,' said Jimmy. 'Pat never locks and bolts
things.'
'I don't think it's bolted,' said Pat. 'I took the dustbin off this
morning, and I'm sure I never bolted it afterwards, and I don't
think I've been near it since.'
'Well,' said Donovan, 'that fact's going to be very useful to us
tonight, but, all the same, young Pat, let me point out to you that

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


these slack habits are leaving you at the mercy of burglars -non-feline
- every night.'

Pat disregarded these admonitions.

'Come on,' she cried, and began racing down the four flights
of stairs. The others followed her. Pat led them through a dark
recess, apparently full to overflowing of perambulators, and through
another door into the well of the flats, and guided them to the
right lift. There was, at the moment, a dustbin on it. Donovan
lifted it off and stepped gingerly on to the platform in its place.
He wrinkled up his nose.

'A little noisome,' he remarked. 'But what of that? Do I go

alone on this venture or is anyone coming with me?'

'I'll come, too,' said Jimmy.

He stepped on by Donovan's side.

'I suppose the lift will bear me,' he added doubtfully.

'You can't weigh much more than a ton of coal,' said Pat, who
had never been particularly strong on her weights-and-measures
table.

'And, anyway, we shall soon find out,' said Donovan cheerfully,
a he hauled on the rope.

With a grinding noise they disappeared from sight.

'This thing makes an awful noise,' remarked Jimmy, as they
passed up through blackness. 'What will the people in the other
flats think?'

'Ghosts or burglars, I expect,' said Donovan. 'Hauling this
rope is quite heavy work. The porter of Friars Mansions does
more work than I ever suspected. I say, Jimmy, old son, are you
counting the floors?'

'Oh, Lordl No. I forgot about it.'

'Well, I have, which is just as well. That's the third we're
passing now. The next is ours.'

'And now, I suppose,' grumbled Jimmy, 'we shall find that Pat
did bolt the door after all.'

But these fears were unfounded. The wooden door swung back
at a touch, and Donovan and Jimmy stepped out into the inky
blackness of Pat's kitchen.

'We ought to have a torch for this wild night work,' explained


152


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

Donovan. 'If I know Pat, everything's on the floor, and we shall
smash endless crockery before I can get to the light switch. Don't
move about, Jimmy, till I get the light on.'
He felt his way cautiously over the floor, uttering one fervent
'Damn? as a corner of the kitchen table took him unawares in the
ribs. He reached the switch, and in another moment another
'Damn!' floated out of the darkness.
'What's the matter?' asked Jimmy.
'Light won't come on. Dud bulb, I suppose. Wait a minute. I'll
turn the sitting-room light on.'
The sitting-room was the door immediately across the passage.
Jimmy heard Donovan go out of the door, and presently fresh
muffled curses reached him. He himself edged his way cautiously
across the kitchen.
'What's the matter?'
'I don't know. Rooms get bewitched at night, I believe. Everything
seems to be in a different place. Chairs and tables where you
least expected them. Oh, hell! Here's another?
But at this moment Jimmy fortunately connected with the
electric-light switch and pressed it down. In another minute two
young men were looking at each other in silent horror.
This room was not Pat's sitting-room. They were in the wrong
flat.
To begin with, the room was about ten times more crowded
than Pat's, which explained Donovan's pathetic bewilderment at
repeatedly cannoning into chairs and tables. There was a large
round table in the centre of the room covered with a baize cloth,
and there was an aspidistra in the window. It was, in fact, the kind
of room whose owner, the young men felt sure, would be difficult
to explain to. With silent horror they gazed down at the table, on
which lay a little pile of letters.
'Mrs Ernestine Grant,' breathed Donovan, picking them up
and reading the name. 'Oh, helpl Do you think she's heard us?'
'It's a miracle she hasn't heard you,' said Jimmy. 'What with
your language and the way you've been crashing into the furniture.
Come on, for the Lord's sake, let's get out of here quickly.'
They hastily switched off the light and retraced their steps on

153


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

tiptoe to the lift. Jimmy breathed a sigh of relief as they regained
the fastness of its depths without further incident.
'I do like a woman to be a good, sound sleeper,' he said
approvingly. 'Mrs Ernestine Grant has her points.'
'I see if now,' said Donovan; 'why we made the mistake in the
floor, I mean. Out in that well we started up from the basement.'

He heaved on the rope, and the lift shot up. 'We're right this time.'
'I devoutly trust we are,' said Jimmy as he stepped out into
anotherinky void. 'My nerves won't stand many more shocks of
this kind.'
But no further nerve strain was imposed. The first click of the
light showed them Pat's kitchen, and in another minute they were
opening the front door and admitting the two girls who were
waiting outside.
'You have been a long time,' grumbled Pat. 'Mildred and I have
been waiting here ages.'
'We've had an adventure,' said Donovan. 'We might have been
hauled off to the police-station as dangerous malefactors.'
Pat had passed on into the sitting-room, where she switched on
the light and dropped her wrap on the sofa. She listened with
lively interest to Donovan's account of his adventures.
'I'm glad she didn't catch you,' she commented. 'I'm sure she's
an old curmudgeon. I got a note from her this morning - wanted to see me some time - something she had to complain about - my
piano, I suppose. People who don't like pianos over their heads
shouldn't come and live in flats. I say, Donovan, you've hurt your
hand. It's all over blood. Go and wash it under the tap.'
Donovan looked down at his hand in surprise. He went out of
the room obediently and presently his voice called to Jimmy.
'Hullo,' said the other, 'what's up? You haven't hurt yourself
badly, have you?'
'I haven't hurt myself at all.'
There was something so queer in Donovan's voice that Jimmy
stared at him in surprise. Donovan held out his washed hand and
Jimmy saw that there was no mark or cut of any kind on it.
'That's odd,' he said, frowning. 'There was quite a lot of blood.

154


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

Where did it come/rom?' And then suddenly he realized what his
quicker-witted friend had already seen. 'By Jove,' he said. 'It
must have come from that flat' He stopped, thinking over the
possibilities his words implied. 'You're sure it was - er - blood?'
he said. 'Not paint?'
Donovan shook his head. 'It was blood, all right,' he said, and
shivered.
They looked at each other. The same thought was clearly in
each of their minds. It was Jimmy who voiced it first.
'I say,' he said awkwardly. 'Do you think we ought to - well go
down again - and have - a - a look around? See it's all right,
you know?'
'What about the girls?'
'We won't say anything to them. Pat's going to put on an apron
and make us an omelette. We'll be back by the time they wonder
where we are.'
'Oh, well, come on,' said Donovan. 'I suppose we've got to go
through with it. I dare say there isn't anything really wrong.'
But his tone lacked conviction. They got into the lift and
descended to the floor below. They found their way across the
kitchen without much difficulty and once more switched on the
sitting-room light.
'It must have been in here,' said Donovan, 'that - that I got the
8tuff on me. I never touched anything in the kitchen.'
He looked round him. Jimmy did the same, and they both
frowned. Everything looked neat and commonplace and miles
removed from any suggestion of violence or gore.
Suddenly Jimmy started violently and caught his companion's

'Look!'
Donovan followed the pointing finger, and in his turn uttered
an exclamation. From beneath the heavy rep curtains there
protruded a foot - a woman's foot in a gaping patent-leather
8hoe.
Jimmy went to the curtains and drew them sharply apart. In
the recess of the window a woman's huddled body lay on the floor,
a sticky dark pool beside it. She was dead, there was no doubt of

155


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

that. Jimmy was attempting to raise her up when Donovan
stopped him.
'You'd better not do that. She oughtn't to be touched till the
police come.'
'The police. Oh, of course. I say, Donovan, what a ghastly
business. Who do you think she is? Mrs Ernestine Grant?'
'Looks like it. At any rate, if there's anyone else in the flat
they're keeping jolly quiet.'
'What do we do next?' asked Jimmy. 'Run out and get a policeman
or ring up from Pat's flat?'
'I should think ringing up would be best. Come on, we might
as well go out the front door. We can't spend the whole night
going up and down in that evil-smelling lift.'
Jimmy agreed. Just as they were passing through the door he
hesitated. 'Look here; do you think one of us ought to stay - just
to keep an eye on things - till the police come?'
'Yes, I think you're right. If you'll stay I'll run up and telephone.'
He ran quickly up the stairs and rang the bell of the flat above.
Pat came to open it, a very pretty Pat with a flushed face and a
cooking apron on. Her eyes widened in surprise.
'You? But how - Donovan, what is it? Is anything the matter?'
He took both her hands in his. 'It's all right, Pat - only we've
made rather an unpleasant discovery in the flat below. A woman dead.'
'Oh!' She gave a little gasp. 'How horrible. Has she had a fit or
something?'
'No. It looks - well - it looks rather as though she had been
murdered.'
'Oh, Donovan!'
'I know. It's pretty beastly.'
Her hands were still in his. She had left them there - was even
clinging to him. Darling Pat - how he loved her. Did she care at
all for him? Sometimes he thought shd did. Sometimes he was
afraid that Jimmy Faulkener - remembrances of Jimmy waiting
patiently below made him start guiltily.
'Pat, dear, we must telephone to the police.'
'Monsieur is right,' said a voice behind him. 'And in the mean156



POIROT'S EARLY CASES

time, while we are waiting their arrival, perhaps I can be of some
slight assistance.'
They had been standing in the doorway of the flat, and now
they peered out on to the landing. A figure was standing on the
stairs a little way above them. It moved down and into their range
of vision.
They stood staring at a little man with a very fierce moustache
and an egg-shaped head. He wore a resplendent dressing-gown
and embroidered slippers. He bowed gallantly to Patricia.
'Mademoisellel' he said. 'I am, as perhaps you know, the tenant
of the flat above. I like to be up high - the air - the view over
London. I take the flat in the name of Mr O'Connor. But I am
not an Irishman. I have another name. That is why I venture to
put myself at your service. Permit me.' With a flourish he pulled
out a card and handed it to Pat. She read it.
'M. Hercule Poirot. Oh!' She caught her breath. 'The M. Poirofl The great detective? And you will really help?'
'That is my intention, mademoiselle. I nearly offered my help
earlier in the evening.'
Pat looked puzzled.
'I heard you discussing how to gain admission to your flat Me,
I am very clever at picking locks. I could, without doubt, have
opened your door for you, but I hesitated to suggest it. You would
have had the grave suspicions of me.'
Pat laughed.
'Now, monsieur,' said Poirot to Donovan. 'Go in, I pray of you,
and telephone to the police. I will descend to the flat below.'
Pat came down the stairs with him. They found Jimmy on
guard, and Pat explained Poirot's presence. Jimmy, in his turn,
explained to Poirot his and Donovan's adventures. The detective
listened attentively.
'The lift door was unbolted, you say? You emerged into the
kitchen, but the light it would not turn on.'
He directed his footsteps to the kitchen as he spoke. His fingem
pressed the switch.
'T/ensl Voild ce qui est curieuxl' he said as the light flashed on.
'It functions perfectly now. I wonder - ' He held up a finger to

157


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


ensure silence and listened. A faint sound broke the stillness-the
sound of an unmistakable snore. 'Ah!' said Poirot. 'La chambre
de domestique.'

He tiptoed across the kitchen into a little pantry, out of which
led a door. He opened the door and switched on the light. The
room was the kind of dog kennel designed by the builders of flats
to accommodate a human being. The floor space was almost entirely
occupied by the bed. In the bed was a rosy-cheeked girl lying on

her back with her mouth wide-open, snoring placidly.

Poirot switched off the light and beat a retreat.

'She will not wake,' he said. 'We will let her sleep till the police
come.'

He went back to the sitting-room. Donovan had joined them.

'The police will be here almost immediately, they say,' he said
breathlessly. 'We are to touch nothing.'

Poirot nodded. 'We will not touch,' he said. 'We will look, that
is all.'

He moved into the room. Mildred had come down with Donovan,
and all four young people stood in the doorway and watched him
with breathless interest.

'What I can't understand, sir, is this,' said Donovan. 'I never
went near the window - how did the blood come on my hand?'

'My young friend, the answer to that stares you in the face. Of
what colour is the tablecloth? Red, is it not? and doubtless you did
put your hand on the table.'

'Yes, I did. Is that -' He stopped.

Poirot nodded. He was bending over the table. He indicated
with his hand a dark patch on the red.

'It was here that the crime was committed,' he said solemnly.
'The body was moved afterwards.'

Then he stood upright and looked slowly round the room. He
did not move, he handled nothing, but nevertheless the four
watching felt as though every object in that rather frowsty place
gave up its secret to his observant eye.

Hercule Poirot nodded his head as though satisfied. A little sigh
escaped him. 'I see,' he said.

'You see what?' asked Donovan curiously.


158


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'I see,' said Poirot, 'what you doubtless felt - that the room is
overfull of furniture.'
Donovan smiled ruefully. 'I did go barging about a bit,' he confessed. 'Of course, everything was in a different place to
Pat's room, and I couldn't make it out.'
'Not everything,' said Poirot.
Donovan looked at him inquiringly.
'I mean,' said Poirot apologetically, 'that certain things are
alway fixed. In a block of flats the door, the window, the fireplace
- they are in the same place in the rooms which are below each
other.'
'Isn't that rather splitting hairs?' asked Mildred. She was
looking at Poirot with faint disapproval.
'One should always speak with absolute accuracy. That is a
little - how do you say? - fad of mine.'
There was the noise of footsteps on the stairs, and three men
came in. They were a police inspector, a constable, and the divisional surgeon. The inspector recognized Poirot and greeted
him in an almost reverential manner. Then he turned to the others.
'I shall want statements from everyone,' he began, 'but in the first place - '
Poirot interrupted. 'A little suggestion. We will go back to the flat upstairs and mademoiselle here shall do what she was planning
to do - make us an omelette. Me, I have a passion for the omelettes.
Then, M. l'Inspecteur, when you have finished here, you will
mount to us and ask questions at your leisure.'
It was arranged accordingly, and Poirot went up with them.
'M. Poirot,' said Pat, 'I think you're a perfect dear. And you shall
have a lovely omelette. I really make omelettes frightfully well.'
'That is good. Once, mademoiselle, I loved a beautiful young
English girl, who resembled you greatly - but alasl - she could not
cook. So perhaps everything was for the best.'
There was a faint sadness in his voice, and Jimmy Faulkener
looked at him curiously.
Once in the flat, however, he exerted himself to please and
amuse. The grim tragedy below was almost forgotten.
The omelette had been consumed and duly praised by the time

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


that Inspector Rice's footsteps were heard. He came in accom-panied
by the doctor, having left the constable below.

'Well, Monsieur Poirot,' he said. 'It all seems clear and above-board
- not much in your line, though we may find it hard to
catch the man. I'd just like to hear how the discovery came to be
made.'

Donovan and Jimmy between them recounted the happenings
of the evening. The inspector turned reproachfully to Pat.

'You shouldn't leave your lift door unbolted, miss. You really
shouldn't.'

'I shan't again,' said Pat, with a shiver. 'Somebody might come
in and murder me like that poor woman below.'

'Ah, but they didn't come in that way, though,' said the
inspector.

'You will recount to us what you have discovered, yes?' said
Poirot.

'I don't know as I ought to - but seeing it's you, M. Poirot -'

'Pricisdment,' said Poirot. 'And these young people - they will
be discreet.'

'The newspapers will get hold of it, anyway, soon enough,' said
the inspector. 'There's no real secret about the matter. Well, the
dead woman's Mrs Grant, all right. I had the porter up to identify
her. Woman of about thirty-five. She was sitting at the table, and
she was shot with an automatic pistol of small calibre, probably
by someone sitting opposite her at table. She fell forward, and
that's how the bloodstain came on the table.'

'But wouldn't someone have heard the shot?' asked Mildred.
'The pistol was fitted with a silencer. No, you wouldn't hear
anything. By the way, did you hear the screech the maid let out
when we told her her mistress was dead? No. Well, that just shows

how unlikely it was that anyone would hear the other.'

'Has the maid no story to tell?' asked Poirot.

'It was her evening out. She's got her own key. She came in
about ten o'clock. Everything was quiet. She thought her mistress
had gone to bed.'

'She did not look in the sitting-room, then?'

'Yes, she took the letters in there which had come by the


160


15OIROT'S EARLY CASES


evening post, but she saw nothing unusual - any more than
Mr Faulkener and Mr Bailey did. You see, the murderer had

concealed the body rather neatly behind the curtains.'

'But it was a curious thing to do, don't you think?'

Poirot's voice was very gentle, yet it held something that made
the inspector look up quickly.

'Didn't want the crime discovered till he'd had time to make his
getaway.'

'Perhaps, perhaps - but continue with what you were saying.'
'The maid went out at five o'clock. The doctor here puts the
time of death as - roughly - about four to five hours ago. That's
right, isn't it?'

The doctor, who was a man of few words, contented himself
with jerking his head affirmatively.

'It's a quarter to twelve now. The actual time can, I think, be
narrowed down to a fairly definite hour.'

He took out a crumpled sheet of paper.

'We found this in the pocket of the dead woman's dress. You
needn't be afraid of handling it. There are no fingerprints on it.'

Poirot smoothed out the sheet. Across it some words were
printed in small, prim capitals.


I WILL COME TO SEE YOU THIS EVIING AT HALF PAST SEVEN.


'A compromising document to leave behind,' commented
Poirot, as he handed it back.

'Well, he didn't know she'd got it in her pocket,' said the
inspector. 'He probably thought she'd destroyed it. We've evidence
that he was a careful man, though. The pistol she was shot with
we found under the body - and there again no fingerprints.
They'd been wiped off very carefully with a silk handkerchief.'

'How do you know,' said Poirot, 'that it was a silk handker-chief?'

'Because we found it,' said the inspector triumphantly. 'At the
last, as he was drawing the curtains, he must have let it fall
unnoticed.'

He handed across a big white silk handkerchief - a good-quality


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handkerchief. It did not need the inspector's finger to draw
Poirot's attention to the mark on it in the centre. It was neatly
marked and quite legible. Poirot read the name out.
'John Fraser.'
'That's it,' said the inspector. 'John Fraser - J.F. in the note.
We know the name of the man we have to look for, and I dare say
when we find out a little about the dead woman, and her relations
come forward, we shall soon get a line on him.'
'I wonder,' said Poirot. 'No, mon cher, somehow I do not think
he will be easy to find, your John Fraser. He is a strange man-careful,
since he marks his handkerchiefs and wipes the pistol
with which he has committed the crime - yet careless since he
loses his handkerchief and does not search for a letter that might
incriminate him.'
'Flurried, that's what he was,' said the inspector.
'It is possible,' said Poirot. 'Yes, it is possible. And he was not
seen entering the building?'
'There are all sorts of people going in and out at the time. These
are big blocks. I suppose none of you - ' he addressed the four
collectively - 'saw anyone coming out of the flat?'
Pat shook her head. 'We went out earlier - about seven
o'clock.'
'I see.' The inspector rose. Poirot accompanied him to the door.
'As a little favour, may I examine the flat below?'
'Why, certainly, M. Poirot. I know what they think of you at headquarters. I'll leave you a key. I've got two. It will be empty.
The maid cleared out to some relatives, too scared to stay there

'I thank you,' said M. Poirot. He went back into the flat,
thoughtful.
'You're not satisfied, M. Poirot?' said Jimmy.
'No,' said Poirot. 'I am not satisfied.'
Donovan looked at him curiously. 'What is it that - well,
worries you?'
Poirot did not answer. He remained silent for a minute or two,
frowning, as though in thought, then he made a sudden impatient
movement of shoulders.

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'I will say good night to you, mademoiselle. You must be tired
You have had much cooking to do - eh?'
Pat laughed. 'Only the omelette. I didn't do dinner. Donova
and Jimmy came and called for us, and we went out to a littl
place in Soho.'
'And then without doubt, you went to a theatre?'
'Yes. The Brown Eyes of Caroline.'
'Ahl' said Poirot. 'It should have been blue eyes - the blue eye:
of mademoiselle.'
He made a sentimental gesture, and then once more wished Pa
good night, also Mildred, who was staying the night by special
request, as Pat admitted frankly that she would get the horrors,
if left alone on this particular night.
The two young men accompanied Poirot. When the door wa.,
shut, and they were preparing to say goodbye to him on th{
landing, Poirot forestalled them.
'My young friends, you heard me say that I was not satisfiedl Eh bien, it is true - I am not. I go now to make some little investiga.
tions of my own. You would like to accompany me - yes?'
An eager assent greeted this proposal. Poirot led the way to th flat below and inserted the key the inspector had given him in th4
lock. On entering, he did not, as the others had expected, ente
the sitting-room. Instead he went straight to the kitchen. In a litth
recess which served as a scullery a big iron bin was standing.
Poirot uncovered this and, doubling himself up, began to rootk
in it with the energy of a ferocious terrier.
Both Jimmy and Donovan stared at him in amazement.
Suddenly with a cry of triumph he emerged. In his hand he
held aloft a small stoppered bottle.
'Voild!' he said. 'I find what I seek.' He sniffed at it delicately.
'Alas! I am enrhurad - I have the cold in the head.'
Donovan took the bottle from him and sniffed in his turn, bm
could smell nothing. He took out the stopper and held the bottk
to his nose before Poirot's warning cry could stop him.
Immediately he fell like a log. Poirot, by springing forward:
partly broke his fall.
'Imbecile!' he cried. 'The idea. To remove the stopper in that

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


foolhardy mannerl Did he not observe how delicately I handled
it? Monsieur - Faulkener - is it not? Will you be so good as to
get me a little brandy? I observed a decanter in the sitting-room.'

Jimmy hurried off, but by the time he returned, Donovan was
sitting up and declaring himself quite all right again. He had to
listen to a short lecture from Poirot on the necessity of caution in
sniffmg at possibly poisonous substances.

'I think I'll be off home,' said Donovan, rising shakily to his
feet. 'That is, if I can't be any more use here. I feel a bit wonky
still.'

'Assuredly,' said Poirot. 'That is the best thing you can do.
M. Faulkener, attend me here a little minute. I will return on the
instant.'

He accompanied Donovan to the door and beyond. They
remained outside on the landing talking for some minutes When
Poirot at last re-entered the flat he found Jimmy standing in the

sitting-rom gazing round him with puzzled eyes.
'Well, M. Poirot,' he said, 'what next?'
'There is nothing next. The case is finished.'
'What?'

'I know everything - now.'

Jimmy stared at him. 'That little bottle you found?'

'Exactly. That little bottle.'

Jimmy shook his head. 'I can't make head or tail of it. For some
reason or other I can see you are dissatisfied with the evidence
against this John Fraser, whoever he may be.'

'Whoever he may be,' repeated Poirot softly. 'If he is anyone

at all - well, I shall be surprised.'

'I don't understand.'

'He is a name - that is all - a name carefully marked on a
handkerchiefl'

'And the letter?'

'Did you notice that it was printed? Now, why? I will tell you.
Handwriting might be recognized, and a typewritten letter ia
more easily traced than you would imagine - but if a real John
Fraser wrote that letter those two points would not have appealed
to himl No, it was written on purpose, and put in the dead woman's


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

pocket for us to find. There is no such person as John Fraser.'
Jimmy looked at him inquiringly.
'And so,' went on Poirot, 'I went back to the point that first
struck me. You heard me say that certain things in a room were
always in the same place under given circumstances. I gave three
instances. I might have mentioned a fourth - the electric-light
switch, my friend.'
Jinuny still stared uncomprehendingly. Poirot went on.
'Your friend Donovan did not go near the window - it was by resting his hand on this table that he got it covered in bloodl But I asked myself at once - why did he rest it there? What was he
doing groping about this room in darkness? For remember, my
friend, the electric-light switch is always in the same place - by
the door. Why, when he came to this room, did he not at once feel
for the light and turn it on? That was the natural, the normal thing to do. According to him, he tried to turn on the light in the kitchen,
but failed. Yet when I tried the switch it was in perfect working
order. Did he, then, not wish the light to go on just then? If it
had gone on you would both have seen at once that you were in
the wrong flat. There would have been no reason to come into
this room.'
'What are you driving at, M. Poirot? I don't understand. What
do you mean?'
'I mean - this.'
Poirot held up a Yale door key.
'The key of this flat?'
'N0, mon ami, the key of the flat above. Mademoiselle Patricia's
key, which M. Donovan Bailey abstracted from her bag some time
during the evening.'
'But why - why?'
'Parbleul So that he could do what he wanted to do - gain
admission to this flat in a perfectly unsuspicious manner. He made
sure that the lift door was unbolted earlier in the evening.'
'Where did you get the key?'
P0irot's smile broadened. 'I found it just now - where I looked
for it- in M. Donovan's pocket. See you, that little bottle I
pretended to find was a ruse. M. Donovan is taken in. He doe

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

what I knew he would do - unstoppers it and sniffs. And in that
little bottle is ethyl chloride, a very powerful instant anaesthetic.
It gives me just the moment or two of unconsciousness I need. I
take from his pocket the two things that I knew would be there.
This key was one of them - the other '
He stopped and then went on.
'I questioned at the time the reason the inspector gave for the
body being concealed behind the curtain. To gain time? No,
there was more than that. And so I thought of just one thing the
post, my friend. The evening post that comes at half past nine
or thereabouts. Say the murderer does not find something he
expects to find, but that something may be delivered by post later.
Clearly, then, he must come back. But the crime must not be
discovered by the maid when she comes in, or the police would
take possession of the flat, so he hides the body behind the curtain.
And the maid suspects nothing and lays the letters on the table
as usual.'
'The letters?'
'Yes, the letters.' Poirot drew something from his pocket. 'This
is the second article I took from M. Donovan when he was
unconscious.' He showed the superscription - a typewritten
envelope addressed to Mrs Ernestine Grant. 'But I will ask you
one thing first, M. Faulkener, before we look at the contents of
this letter. Are you or are you not in love with Mademoiselle
Patricia?'
'I care for Pat damnably - but I've never thought I had a
chance.'
'You thought that she cared for M. Donovan? It may be that
she had begun to care for him - but it was only a beginning, my
friend. It is for you to make her forget - to stand by her in her
trouble.'
'Trouble?' said Jimmy sharply.
'Yes, trouble. We will do all we can to keep her name out of it,
but it will be impossible to do so entirely. She was, you see, the
motive.'
He ripped open the envelope that he held. An enclosure fell
out. The covering letter was brief, and was from a firm of solicitors.

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

Dear Madam,
The document you enclose is quite in order, and the fact of
the marriage having taken place in a foreign country does not
invalidate it in any way.
Yours truly, etc.

Poirot spread out the enclosure. It was a certificate of marriage
Ietween Donovan Bailey and Ernestine Grant, dated eight years
go.
'Oh, my God!' said Jimmy. 'Pat said she'd had a letter from the
Xtoman asking to see her, but she never dreamed it was anything
i mp0rtant.'
poirot nodded. 'M. Donovan knew - he went to see his wife
t:his evening before going to the flat above - a strange irony, by
the ray, that led the unfortunate woman to come to this building where her rival lived - he murdered her in cold blood, and then
vent on to his evening's amusement. His wife must have told him
tzhat she had sent the marriage certificate to her solicitors and was
expecting to hear from them. Doubtless he himself had tried to
nake her believe that there was a flaw in the marriage.'
'Ie seemed in quite good spirits, too, all the evening. M.
oir0t, you haven't let him escape?' Jimmy shuddered.
'There is no escape for him,' said Poirot gravely. 'You need not
Ileear.'
'It's Pat I'm thinking about mostly,' said Jimmy. 'You don't
tthin - she really cared.'
'3fon ami, that is your part,' said Poirot gently. 'To make her
tturnto you and forget. I do not think you will find it very difficult!'

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

what I knew he would do - unstoppers it and sniffs. And in that
little bottle is ethyl chloride, a very powerful instant anaesthetic.
It gives me just the moment or two of unconsciousness I need. I
take from his pocket the two things that I knew would be there.
This key was one of them - the other '
He stopped and then went on.
'I questioned at the time the reason the inspector gave for the
body being concealed behind the curtain. To gain time? No,
there was more than that. And so I thought of just one thing the
post, my friend. The evening post that comes at half past nine
or thereabouts. Say the murderer does not find something he
expects to find, but that something may be delivered by post later.
Clearly, then, he must come back. But the crime must not be
discovered by the maid when she comes in, or the police would
take possession of the flat, so he hides the body behind the curtain.
And the maid suspects nothing and lays the letters on the table
as usual.'
'The letters?'
'Yes, the letters.' Poirot drew something from his pocket. 'This
is the second article I took from M. Donovan when he was
unconscious.' He showed the superscription - a typewritten
envelope addressed to Mrs Ernestine Grant. 'But I will ask you
one thing first, M. Faulkener, before we look at the contents of
this letter. Are you or are you not in love with Mademoiselle
Patricia?'
'I care for Pat damnably - but I've never thought I had a
chance.'
'You thought that she cared for M. Donovan? It may be that
she had begun to care for him - but it was only a beginning, my
friend. It is for you to make her forget - to stand by her in her
trouble.'
'Trouble?' said Jimmy sharply.
'Yes, trouble. We will do all we can to keep her name out of it,
but it will be impossible to do so entirely. She was, you see, the
motive.'
He ripped open the envelope that he held. An enclosure fell
out. The covering letter was brief, and was from a firm of solicitors.

166


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


Dear Madam,

The document you enclose is quite in order, and the fact of
the marriage having taken place in a foreign country does not
invalidate it in any way.

Yours truly, etc.


Poirot spread out the enclosure. It was a certificate of marriage
between Donovan Bailey and Ernestine Grant, dated eight years
ago.

'Oh, my Godl' said Jimmy. 'Pat said she'd had a letter from the
woman asking to see her, but she never dreamed it was anything
important.'

Poirot nodded. 'M. Donovan knew - he went to see his wife
this evening before going to the flat above - a strange irony, by
the way, that led the unfortunate woman to come to this building
where her rival lived - he murdered her in cold blood, and then
went on to his evening's amusement. His wife must have told him
that she had sent the marriage certificate to her solicitors and wa
expecting to hear from them. Doubtless he himself had tried to
make her believe that there was a flaw in the marriage.'

'He seemed in quite good spirits, too, all the evening. M.
Poirot, you haven't let him escape?' Jimmy shuddered.

'There is no escape for him,' said Poirot gravely. 'You need not
fear.'

'It's Pat I'm thinking about mostly,' said Jimmy. 'You don't
think - she really cared.'

'Mort ami, that is your part,' said Poirot gently. 'To make her
turn to you and forget. I do not think you will find it very diflicult!'


167


CHAPTER XIII
DOUBLE SIN


I had called in at my friend Poirot's rooms to find him sadly
overworked. So much had he become the rage that every rich
woman who had mislaid a bracelet or lost a pet kitten rushed to
ecure the services of the great Hercule Poirot. My little friend
was a strange mixture of Flemish thrift and artistic fervour. He
accepted many cases in which he had little interest owing to the
first instinct being predominant.

He also undertook cases in which there was a little or no monet-m'y
reward sheerly because the problem involved interested him.
The result was that, as I say, he was overworking himself. He
admitted as much himself, and I found little difficulty in persuad-ing
him to accompany me for a week's holiday to that well-known
15outh Coast resort, Ebermouth.

We had spent four very agreeable days when Poirot came to me,
an open letter in his hand.

'Mort ami, you remember my friend Joseph Aarons, the theatrical
agent?'

I assented after a moment's thought. Poirot's friends are so
many and so varied, and range from dustmen to dukes.

'Eh bien, Hastings, Joseph Aarons finds himself at Charlock
Bay. He is far from well, and there is a little affair that it seems is
worrying him. He begs me to go over and see him. I think, mon
ami, that I must accede to his request. He is a faithful friend, the
good Joseph Aarons, and has done much to assist me in the past.'

'Certainly, if you think so,' I said. 'I believe Charlock Bay is a
beautiful spot, and as it happens I've never been there.'

'Then we combine business with pleasure,' said Poirot. 'You
will inquire the trains, yes?'

'It will probably mean a change or two,' I said with a grimace.
'You know what these cross-country lines are. To go from the


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'I

POIROT'S EARLY CASES

South Devon coast to the North Devon coast is sometimes a day's
journey.'
However, on inquiry, I found that the journey could be accomplished
by only one change at Exeter and that the trains were
good. I was hastening back to Poirot with the information when
I happened to pass the offices of the Speedy cars and saw written
up:

Tomorrow. All-day excursion to Charlock Bay. Starting 8.3o
through some of the most beautiful scenery in Devon.

I inquired a few particulars and returned to the hotel full of
enthusiasm. Unfortunately, I found it hard to make Poirot share
my feelings.
'My friend, why this passion for the motor coach? The train,
see you, it is sure? The tyres, they do not burst; the accidents, they
do not happen. One is not incommoded by too much air. The
windows can be shut and no draughts admitted.'
I hinted delicately that the advantage of fresh air was what
attracted me most to the motor-coach scheme.
'And if it rains? Your English climate is so uncertain.'
'There's a hood and all that. Besides, if it rains badly, the
excursion doesn't take place.'
'Ahl' said Poirot. 'Then let us hope that it rainS.'
'Of course, if you feel like that and...'
'No, no, mon ami. I see that you have set your heart on the trip.
Fortunately, I have my greatcoat with me and two mufflers.'
He sighed. 'But shall we have sufficient time at Charlock Bay?'
'Well, I'm afraid it means staying the night there. You see, the
tour goes round by Dartmoor. We have lunch at Monkhampton.
We arrive at Charlock Bay about four o'clock, and the coach
tarts back at five, arriving here at ten o'clock.'
'Sol' said Po[rot. 'And there are people who do this for pleasure!
We shall, of course, get a reduction of the fare since we do not
make the return journey?'
'I hardly think that's likely.'
'You must insist.'

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'Come now, Poirot, don't be mean. You know you're coining
money.'
'My friend, it is not the meanness. It is the business sense. If I
were a millionaire, I would pay only what was just and right.'
As I had foreseen, however, Poirot was doomed to fail in this
respect. The gentleman who issued tickets at the Speedy office
was calm and unimpassioned but adamant. His point was that we
ought to return. He even implied that we ought to pay extra for
the privilege of leaving the coach at Charlock Bay.
Defeated, Poirot paid over the required sum and left the office.
'The English, they have no sense of money,' he grumbled.
'Did you observe a young man, Hastings, who paid over the full
fare and yet mentioned his intention of leaving the coach at
Monkhampton?'
'I don't think I did. As a matter of fact...'
'You were observing the pretty young lady who booked No. 5,
the next seat to ours. Ah! Yes, my friend, I saw you. And that is
why when I was on the point of taking seats No. 13 and 4 which
are in the middle and as well sheltered as it is possible to
be - you rudely pushed yourself forward and said that 3 and 4
would be better.'
'Really, Poirot,' I said, blushing.
'Auburn hair - always the auburn hair!'
'At any rate, she was more worth looking at than an odd young
man.'
'That depends upon the point of view. To me, the young man
was interesting.'
Something rather significant in Poirot's tone made me look at
him quickly. 'Why? What do you mean?'
'Oh, do not excite yourself. Shall I say that he interested me
because he was trying to grow a moustache and as yet the result is
poor.' Poirot stroked his own magnificent moustache tenderly. 'It
i an art,' he murmured, 'the growing of the moustachel I have
sympathy for all who attempt it.'
It is always difficult with Poirot to know when he is serious and
when he is merely amusing hirnseff at one's expense. I judged it
safest to say no more.

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

The following morning dawned bright and sunny. A really
glorious dayl Poirot, however, was taking no chances. He wore a
woolly waistcoat, a mackintosh, a heavy overcoat, and two mufflers,
in addition to wearing his thickest suit. He also swallowed two
tablets of 'Anti-grippe' before starting and packed a further supply.
We took a couple of small suitcases with us. The pretty girl we
had noticed the day before had a small suitcase, and so did the
young man whom I gathered to have been the object of Poirot's
sympathy. Otherwise, there was no luggage. The four pieces were
stowed away by the driver, and we all took our places.
Poirot, rather maliciously, I thought, assigned me the outside
place as 'I had the mania for the fresh air' and himself occupied
the seat next to our fair neighbour. Presently, however, he made
amends. The man in seat 6 was a noisy fellow, inclined to be
facetious and boisterous, and Poirot asked the girl in a low voice
if she would like to change seats with him. She agreed gratefully,
and, the change having been effected, she entered into conversation
with us and we were soon all three chattering together merrily.
She was evidently quite young, not more than nineteen, and as
ingenuous as a child. She soon confided to us the reason for her
trip. She was going, it seemed, on business for her aunt who kept
a most interesting antique shop in Ebermouth.
This aunt had been left in very reduced circumstances on the
death of her father and had used her small capital and a houseful
of beautiful things which her father had left to start in business.
8he had been extremely successful and had made quite a name for
herself in the trade. This girl, Mary Durrant, had come to be with
her aunt and learn the business and was very excited about it much
preferring it to the other alternative - becoming a nursery
governess or companion.
Poirot nodded interest and approval to all this.
'Mademoiselle will be successful, I am sure,' he said gallantly.
'But I will give her a little word of advice. Do not be too trusting,
mademoiselle. Everywhere in the world there are rogues and
vagabonds, even it may be on this very coach of ours. One should
lways be on the guard, suspiciousl'
She stared at him open-mouthed, and he nodded sapiently.

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'But yes, it is as I say. Who knows? Even I who speak to you
may be a malefactor of the worst description.'
And he twinkled more than ever at her surprised face.
We stopped for lunch at Monkhampton, and, after a few words
with the waiter, Poirot managed to secure us a small table for
three close by the window. Outside, in a big courtyard, about
twenty char--bancs were parked - char--bancs which had come
from all over the county. The hotel dining-room was full, and the
noise was rather considerable.
'One can have altogether too much of the holiday spirit,' I said
with a grimace.
Mary Durrant agreed. 'Ebermouth is quite spoiled in the
summers nowadays. My aunt says it used to be quite different.
Now one can hardly get along the pavements for the crowd.'
'But it is good for business, mademoiselle.'
'Not for ours particularly. We sell only rare and valuable things.
We do not go in for cheap bric-h-brac. My aunt has clients all
over England. If they want a particular period table or chair, or a
certain piece of china, they write to her, and, sooner or later, she
gets it for them. That is what has happened in this case.'
We looked interested and she went on to explain. A certain
American gentleman, Mr J. Baker Wood, was a connoisseur and
collector of miniatures. A very valuable set of miniatures had
recently come into the market, and Miss Elizabeth Penn - Mary's
aunt - had purchased them. She had written to Mr Wood
describing the miniatures and naming a price. He had replied at
once, saying that he was prepared to purchase if the miniatures
were as represented and asking that someone should be sent with
them for him to see where he was staying at Charlock Bay. Miss
Durrant had accordingly been despatched, acting as representative
for the firm.
'They're lovely things, of course,' she said. 'But I can't imagine
anyone paying all that money for them. Five hundred poundsl
Just think of it! They're by Cosway. Is it Cosway I mean? I get
so mixed up in these things.'
Poirot smiled. 'You are not yet experienced, eh, mademoiselle?'

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'I've had no training,' said Mary ruefully. 'We weren't brought
up to know about old things. It's a lot to learn.'

She sighed. Then suddenly, I saw her eyes widen in surprise.
She was sitting facing the window, and her glance now was
directed out of that window, into the courtyard. With a hurried
word, she rose from her seat and almost ran out of the room. She
returned in a few moments, breathless and apologetic.

'I'm so sorry rushing off like that. But I thought I saw a man
taking my suitcase out of the coach. I went flying after him, and it
turned out to be his own. It's one almost exactly like mine. I felt
like such a fool. It looked as though I were accusing him of
stealing it.'

She laughed at the idea.

Poirot, however, did not laugh. 'What man was it, mademoiselle?
Describe him to me.'

'He had on a brown suit. A thin weedy young man with a very
indeterminate moustache.'

'Aha,' said Poirot. 'Our friend of yesterday, Hastings. You

know this young man, mademoiselle. You have seen him before?'
'No, never. Why?'

'Nothing. It is rather curious - that is all.'

He relapsed into silence and took no further part in the con-versation
until something Mary Durrant said caught his atten-tion.

'Eh, mademoiselle, what is that you say?'

'I said that on my return journey I should have to be careful of
"malefactors", as you call them. I believe Mr Wood always pays
for things in cash. If I have five hundred pounds in notes on me,
I shall be worth some malefactor's attention.'

She laughed but again Poirot did not respond. Instead, he asked
her what hotel she proposed to stay at in Charlock Bay.

'The Anchor Hotel. It is small and not expensive, but quite
good.'

'So!' said Poirot. 'The Anchor Hotel. Precisely where Hastings

here has made up his mind to stay. How oddl'

He twinkled at me.

'You are staying long in Charlock Bay?' asked Mary.


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'One night only. I have business there. You could not guess, I
am sure, what my profession is, mademoiselle?'
I saw Mary consider several possibilities and reject them probably
from a feeling of caution. At last, she hazarded the
suggestion that Poirot was a conjurer. He was vastly entertained.
'Ahl But it is an idea thatl You think I take the rabbits out of the
hat? No, mademoiselle. Me, I am the opposite of a conjurer.
The conjurer, he makes things disappear. Me, I make things that
have disappeared, reappear.' He leaned forward dramatically so
aa to give the words full effect. 'It is a secret, mademoiselle, but
I will tell you, I am a detectivel'
He leaned back in his chair pleased with the effect he had
created. Mary Durrant stared at him spellbound. But any further
conversation was barred for the braying of various horns outside
announced that the road monsters were ready to proceed.
As Poirot and I went out together I commented on the charm of
our luncheon companion. Poirot agreed.
'Yes, she is charming. But, also rather silly?'
'Silly?'
'Do not be outraged. A girl may be beautiful and have auburn
hair and yet be silly. It is the height of foolishness to take two
strangers into her confidence as she has done.'
'Well, she could see we were all right.'
'That is imbecile, what you say, my friend. Anyone who knows
his job - naturally he will appear "all right". That little one she
talked of being careful when she would have five hundred pounds
in money with her. But she has five hundred pounds with her now.'
'In miniatures.'
'Exactly. In miniatures. And between one and the other, there
is no great difference, mon ami.'
'But no one knows about them except us.'
'And the waiter and the people at the next table. And, doubtless,
everal people in Ebermouthl Mademoiselle Durrant, she is
charming, but, if I were Miss Elizabeth Penn, I would first of all
instruct my new assistant in the common sense.' He paused and
then said in a different voice: 'You know, my friend, it would be

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POIROT3 EARLY CASES


the easiest thing in the world to remove a suitcase from one of
those char-h-bancs while we were all at luncheon.'

'Oh, come, Poirot, somebody will be sure to see.'

'And what would they see? Somebody removing his luggage.
It would be done in an open and aboveboard manner, and it
would be nobody's business to interfere.'

'Do you mean - Poirot, are you hinting - But that fellow in the
brown suit - it was his own suitcase?'

Poirot frowned. 'So it seems. All the same, it is curious, Hastings,
that he should have not removed his suitcase before, when the car
first arrived. He has not lunched here, you notice.'

'If Miss Durrant hadn't been sitting opposite the window, she
wouldn't have seen him,' I said slowly.

'And since it was his own suitcase, that would not have

mattered,' said Poirot. 'So let us dismiss it from our thoughts,
mon ami.'

Nevertheless, when we had resumed our places and were
speeding along once more, he took the opportunity of giving Mary
Durrant a further lecture on the dangers of indiscretion which
she received meekly enough but with the air of thinking it all
rather a joke.

We arrived at Charlock Bay at four o'clock and were fortunate
enough to be able to get rooms at the Anchor Hotel - a charming
old-world inn in one of the side streets.

Poirot had just unpacked a few necessaries and was applying a
little cosmetic to his moustache preparatory to going out to call
upon Joseph Aarons when there came a frenzied knocking at the
door. I called 'Come in,' and, to my utter amazement, Mary
I)urrant appeared, her face white and large tears standing in her


'I do beg your pardon - but - but the most awful thing has

happened. And you did say you were a detective?' This to Poirot.
'What has happened, mademoiselle?'

'I opened my suitcase. The miniatures were in a crocodile
despatch case - locked, of course. Now, lookl'

She held out a small square crocodile-covered case. The lid
hung loose. Poirot took it from her. The case had been forced;


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


great strength must have been used. The marks were plain
enough. Poirot examined it and nodded.

'The miniatures?' he asked, though we both knew the answer
well enough.

'Gone. They've been stolen. Oh, what shall I do?'

'Don't worry,' I said. 'My friend is Hercule Poirot. You must

have heard of him. He'll get them back for you if anyone can.'
'Monsieur Poirot. The great Monsieur Poirot.'

Poirot was vain enough to be pleased at the obvious reverence
in her voice. 'Yes, my child,' he said. 'It is I, myself. And you can
leave your little affair in my hands. I will do all that can be done.
But I fear - I much fear - that it will be too late. Tell me, was the

lock of your suitcase forced also?'
She shook her head.
'Let me see it, please.'

We went together to her room, and Poirot examined the suitcase
closely. It had obviously been opened with a key.

'Which is simple enough. These suitcase locks are all much of
the same pattern. Eh bien, we must ring up the police and we must
also get in touch with Mr Baker Wood as soon as possible. I will
attend to that myself.'

I went with him and asked what he meant by saying it might be
too late. 'Mon chef, I said today that I was the opposite of the
conjurer - that I make the disappearing things reappear - but
suppose someone has been beforehand with me. You do not
understand? You will in a minute.'

He disappeared into the telephone box. He came out five
minutes later looking very grave. 'It is as I feared. A lady called
upon Mr Wood with the miniatures half an hour ago. She repre-sented
herself as coming from Miss Elizabeth Penn. He was

delighted with the miniatures and paid for them forthwith.'
'Half an hour ago - before we arrived here.'

Poirot smiled rather enigmatically. 'The Speedy cars are quite
speedy, but a fast motor from, say, Monkhampton would get here

a good hour ahead of them at least.'

'And what do we do now?'

'The good Hastings - always practical. We inform the police,


176


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


do all we can for Miss Durrant, and - yes, I think decidedly, we
have an interview with Mr J. Baker Wood.'

We carried out this programme. Poor Mary Durrant was
terribly upset, fearing her aunt would blame her.

'Which she probably will,' observed Poirot, as we set out for
the Seaside Hotel where Mr Wood was staying. 'And with perfect
justice. The idea of leaving five hundred pounds' worth of valuables
in a suitcase and going to lunch! All the same, mort ami, there are
one or two curious points about the case. That despatch box, for
instance, why was it forced?'

'To get out the miniatures.'

'But was not that a foolishness? Say our thief is tampering with
the luggage at lunch-time under the pretext of getting out his
own. Surely it is much simpler to open the suitcase, transfer the
despatch case unopened to his own suitcase, and get away, than
to waste the time forcing the lock?'

'He had to make sure the miniatures were inside.'

Poirot did not look convinced, but, as we were just being

shown into Mr Wood's suite, we had no time for more discussion.
I took an immediate dislike to Mr Baker Wood.

He was a large vulgar man, very much overdressed and wearing
a diamond solitaire ring. He was blustering and noisy.

Of course, he'd not suspected anything amiss. Why should he?
The woman said she had the miniatures all right. Very fine
specimens, too! Had he the numbers of the notes? No, he hadn't.
And who was Mr - er - Poirot, anyway, to come asking him all
these questions?

'I will not ask you anything more, monsieur, except for one
thing. A description of the woman who called upon you. Was she
young and pretty?'

'No, sir, she was not. Most emphatically not. A tall woman,
middle-aged, grey hair, blotchy complexion and a budding
moustache. A siren? Not on your life.'

'Poirot,' I cried, as we took our departure. 'A moustache. Did
you hear?'

'I have the use of my ears, thank you, Hastings.'

'But what a very unpleasant man.'


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'He has not the charming manner, no.'

'Well, we ought to get the thief all right,' I remarked. 'We can
identify him.'

'You are of such a naive simplicity, Hastings. Do you not know

that there is such a thing as an alibi?'

'You think he will have an alibi?'

Poirot replied unexpectedly: 'I sincerely hope so.'

'The trouble with you is,' I said, 'that you like a thing to be
difficult.'

'Quite right, mon ami. I do not like - how do you say it - the
bird who sits?

Poirot's prophecy was fully justified. Our travelling companion
in the brown suit turned out to be a Mr Norton Kane. He had
gone straight to the George Hotel at Monkhampton and had been
there during the afternoon. The only evidence against him was
that of Miss Durrant who declared that she had seen him getting
out his luggage from the car while we were at lunch.

'Which in itself is not a suspicious act,' said Poirot meditat-ively.

After that remark, he lapsed into silence and refused to discuss
the matter any further, saying when I pressed him, that he was
thinking of moustaches in general, and that I should be well
advised to do the same.

I discovered, however, that he had asked Joseph Aarons - with
whom he spent the evening - to give him every detail possible
about Mr Baker Wood. As both men were staying at the same
hotel, there was a chance of gleaning some stray crumbs of
information. Whatever Poirot learned, he kept to himself,
however.

Mary Durrant, after various interviews with the police, had
returned to Ebermouth by an early morning train. We lunched
with Joseph Aarons, and, after lunch, Poirot announced to me that
he had settled the theatrical agent's problem satisfactorily, and
that we could return to Ebermouth as soon as we liked. 'But not
by road, mon ami; we go by rail this time.'

'Are you afraid of having your pocket picked, or of meeting
another damsel in distress?'


178


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'Both those affairs, Hastings, might happen to me on the train.
No, I am in haste to be back in Ebermouth, because I want to

proceed with our case.'

'Our case?'

'But, yes, my friend. Mademoiselle Durrant appealed to me to
help her. Because the matter is now in the hands of the police, it
does not follow that I am free to wash my hands of it. I came here
to oblige an old friend, but it shall never be said of Hercule Poirot
that he deserted a stranger in need? And he drew himself up
grandiloquently.

'I think you were interested before that,' I said shrewdly. 'In
the office of cars, when you first caught sight of that young man,
though what drew your attention to him I don't know.'

'Don't you, Hastings? You should. Well, well, that must remain
my little secret.'

We had a short conversation with the police inspector in charge
of the case before leaving. He had interviewed Mr Norton Kane,
and told Poirot in confidence that the young man's manner had
not impressed him favourably. He had blustered, denied, and
contradicted himself.

'But just how the trick was done, I don't know,' he confessed.
'He could have handed the stuff to a confederate who pushed off
at once in a fast car. But that's just theory. We've got to find the

car and the confederate and pin the thing down.'

Poirot nodded thoughtfully.

'Do you think that was how it was done?' I asked him, as we
were seated in the train.

'No, my friend, that was not how it was done. It was cleverer
than that.'

'Won't you tell me?'

'Not yet. You know - it is my weakness - I like to keep my little
secrets till the end.'

'Is the end going to be soon?'

every soon now.'

We arrived in Ebermouth a little after six and Poirot drove at
once to the shop which bore the name 'Elizabeth Penn'. The
establishment was closed, but Poirot rang the bell, and presently


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


Mary herself opened the door, and expressed surprise and delight
at seeing us.

'Please come in and see my aunt,' she said.

She led us into a back room. An elderly lady came forward to
meet us; she had white hair and looked rather like a miniature
herself with her pink-and-white skin and her blue eyes. Round
her rather bent shoulders she wore a cape of priceless old lace.

'Is this the great Monsieur Poirot?' she asked in a low charming
voice. 'Mary has been telling me. I could hardly believe it. And

you will really help us in our trouble. You will advise us?'
Poirot looked at her for a moment, then bowed.

'Mademoiselle Penn - the effect is charming. But you should
really grow a moustache.'

Miss Penn gave a gasp and drew back.

'You were absent from business yesterday, were you not?'

'I was here in the morning. Later I had a bad headache and went
directly home.'

'Not home, mademoiselle. For your headache you tried the
change of air, did you not? The air of Charlock Bay is very
bracing, I believe.'

He took me by the arm and drew me towards the door. He
paused there and spoke over his shoulder.

'You comprehend, I know everything. This little - farce - it
must cease.'

There was a menace in his tone. Miss Penn, her face ghastly
white, nodded mutely. Poirot turned to the girl.

'Mademoiselle,' he said gently, 'you are young and charming.
But participating in these little affairs will lead to that youth and
charm being hidden behind prison walls - and I, Hercule Poirot,
tell you that that will be a pity.'

Then he stepped out into the street and I followed him, be-wildered.

'From the first, mon ami, I was interested. When that young man
booked his place as far as Monkhampton only, I saw the girl's
attention suddenly riveted on him. Now why? He was not of the
type to make a woman look at him for himself alone. When we
started on that coach, I had a feeling that something would


180


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

happen. Who saw the young man tampering with the luggage
Mademoiselle and mademoiselle only, and remember she chos
that seat - a seat facing the window - a most unfeminine choice.
'And then she comes to us with the tale of robbery- the despatch
box forced which makes not the common sense, as I told you at
the time.
'And what is the result of it all? Mr Baker Wood has paid over
good money for stolen goods. The miniatures will be returned to
Miss Penn. She will sell them and will have made a thousand
pounds instead of five hundred. I make the discreet inquiries and
learn that her business is in a bad state - touch and go. I say to
myself- the aunt and niece are in this together.'
'Then you never suspected Norton Kane?'
Then amfl With that moustache? A criminal is either clean
shaven or he has a proper moustache that can be removed at will.
But what an opportunity for the clever Miss Penn - a shrinking
elderly lady with a pink-and-white complexion as we saw her.
But if she holds herself erect, wears large boots, alters her complexion
with a few unseemly blotches and - crowning touch adds
a few sparse hairs to her upper lip. What then? A masculine
woman, says Mr Wood and - "a man in disguise" say we at once.'
'She really went to Charlock yesterday?'
'Assuredly. The train, as you may remember telling me, left
here at eleven and got to Charlock Bay at two o'clock. Then the
return train is even quicker - the one we came by. It leaves
Charlock at four-five and gets here at six-fifteen. Naturally, the
miniatures were never in the despatch case at all. That was
artistically forced before being packed. Mademoiselle Mary has
only to find a couple of mugs who will be sympathetic to her
charm and champion beauty in distress. But one of the mugs was
no mug - he was Hercule Poirotl'
I hardly liked the inference. I said hurriedly: 'Then, when you
·aid you were helping a stranger, you were wilfully deceiving me.
That's exactly what you were doing.'
'Never do I deceive you, Hastings. I only permit you to deceive yourself. I was referring to Mr Baker Wood - a stranger to these
shores.' His face darkened. 'Ahl When I think of that imposition,

181


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


that iniquitous overcharge, the same fare single to Charlock as
return, my blood boils to protect the visitor! Not a pleasant man,
Mr Baker Wood, not, as you would say, sympathetic. But a
visitor! And we visitors, Hastings, must stand together. Me, I am
all for the visitorst'


182


CHAPTER XIV


THE MARKET BASING MYSTERY


'After all, there's nothing like the country, is there?' said Inspector
Japp, breathing in heavily through his nose and out through his
mouth in the most approved fashion.

Poirot and I applauded the sentiment heartily. It had been the
Scotland Yard inspector's idea that we should all go for the week-end
to the little country town of Market Basing. When off duty,
Japp was an ardent botanist, and discoursed upon minute flowers
possessed of unbelievably lengthy Latin names (somewhat
strangely pronounced) with an enthusiasm even greater than that
he gave to his cases.

'Nobody knows us, and we know nobody,' explained Japp.
'That's the idea.'

This was not to prove quite the case, however, for the local
constable happened to have been transferred from a village fifteen
miles away where a case of arsenical poisoning had brought him
into contact with the Scotland Yard man. However, his delighted
recognition of the great man only enhanced Japp's sense of well-being,
and as we sat down to breakfast on Sunday morning in the
parlour of the village inn, with the sun shining, and tendrils of
honeysuckle thrusting themselves in at the window, we were all
in the best of spirits. The bacon and eggs were excellent, the
coffee not so good, but passable and boiling hot.

'This is the life,' said Japp. 'When I retire, I shall have a little
place in the country. Far from crime, like this!'

'Lc crime, il est partout,' remarked Poirot, helping himself to a
neat square of bread, and frowning at a sparrow which had balanced
itself impertinently on the windowsill.

I quoted lightly:


183


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'That rabbit has a pleasant face,
His private life is a disgrace
I really could not tell to you
The awful things that rabbits do.'

'Lord,' said Japp, stretching himself backward, 'I believe I
could manage another egg, and perhaps a rasher or two of bacon.
What do you say, Captain?'
'I'm with you,' I returned heartily. 'What about you, Poirot?'
Porot shook his head.
'One must not so replenish the stomach that the brain refuses
to function,' he remarked.
'I'll risk replenishing the stomach a bit more,' laughed Jalap.
'I take a large size in stomachs; and by the way, you're getting
stout yourself, M. Poirot. Here, miss, eggs and bacon twice.'
At that moment, however, an imposing form blocked the doorway.
It was Constable Pollard.
'I hope you'll excuse me troubling the inspector, gentlemen,
but I'd be glad of his advice.'
'I'm on my holiday,' said Japp hastily. 'No work for me. What
is the case?'
'Gentleman up at Leigh Hall - shot himself - through the
head.'
'Well, they will do it,' said Japp prosaically. 'Debt, or a woman,
I suppose. Sorry I can't help you, Pollard.'
'The point is,' said the constable, 'that he can't have shot
himself. Leastways, that's what Dr Giles says.'
Japp put down his cup.
'Can't have shot him-serf? What do you mean?'
'That's what Dr Giles says,' repeated Pollard. 'He says it's
plumb impossible. He's puzzled to death, the door being locked
on the inside and the window bolted; but he sticks to it that the
man couldn't have committed suicide.'
That settled it. The further supply of bacon and eggs were
waved aside, and a few minutes later we were all walking as fast
as we could in the direction of Leigh House, Japp eagerly questioning
the constable.

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

The name of the deceased was Walter Protheroe; he was a man
of middle age and something of a recluse. He had come to Market
Basing eight years ago and rented Leigh House, a rambling,
dilapidated old mansion fast falling into ruin. He lived in a corner
of it, his wants attended to by a housekeeper whom he had brought
with him. Miss Clegg was her name, and she was a very superior
woman and highly thought of in the village. Just lately Mr Protheroe
had had visitors staying with him, a Mr and Mrs Parker from
London. This morning, unable to get a reply when she went to
call her master, and finding the door locked, Miss Clegg became
alarmed, and telephoned for the police and the doctor. Constable
Pollard and Dr Giles had arrived at the same moment. Their
united efforts had succeeded in breaking down the oak door of his
bedroom.
Mr Protheroe was lying on the floor, shot through the head,
and the pistol was clasped in his right hand. It looked a clear case
of suicide.
After examining the body, however, Dr Giles became clearly
perplexed, and finally he drew the constable aside, and communicated
his perplexities to him; whereupon Pollard had at once
thought of Japp. Leaving the doctor in charge, he had hurried
down to the inn.
By the time the constable's recital was over, we had arrived at
Leigh House, a big, desolate house surrounded by an unkempt,
weed-ridden garden. The front door was open, and we passed at
once into the hall and from there into a small morning-room
whence proceeded the sound of voices. Four people were in the
room: a somewhat flashily dressed man with a shifty, unpleasant
face to whom I took an immediate dislike; a woman of much the
same type, though handsome in a coarse fashion; another woman
dressed in neat black who stood apart from the rest, and whom I
took to be the housekeeper; and a tall man dressed in sporting
tweeds, with a clever, capable face, and who was clearly in command
of the situation.
'Dr Giles,' said the constable, 'this is Detective-Inspector Japp
of Scotland Yard, and his two friends.'
The doctor greeted us and made us known to Mr and Mrs

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PO1ROT'S EARLY CASES


Parker. Then we accompanied him upstairs. Pollard, in obedience
to a sign from Japp, remained below, as it were on guard over the
household. The doctor led us upstairs and along a passage. A
door was open at the end; splinters hung from the hinges, and the
door itself had crashed to the floor inside the room.

We went in. The body was still lying on the floor. Mr Protheroe
had been a man of middle age, bearded, with hair grey at the
temples. Japp went and knelt by the body.

'Why couldn't you leave it as you found it?' he grumbled.
The doctor shrugged his shoulders.
'We thought it a clear case of suicide.'

'H'mt' said Japp. 'Bullet entered the head behind the left ear.'
'Exactly,' said the doctor. 'Clearly impossible for him to have
fired it himself. He'd have had to twist his hand right round his
head. It couldn't have been done.'

'Yet you found the pistol clasped in his hand? Where is it, by
the way?'

The doctor nodded to the table.

'But it wasn't clasped in his hand,' he said. 'It was inside the
hand, but the fingers weren't closed over it.'

'Put there afterwards,' said Japp; 'that's clear enough.' He was
examining the weapon. 'One cartridge fired. We'll test it for
fingerprints, but I doubt if we'll find any but yours, Dr Giles.
How long has he been dead?'

'Some time last night. I can't give the time to an hour or so, as
thoe wonderful doctors in detective stories do. Roughly, he's
been dead about twelve hours.'

So far, Poirot had not made a move of any kind. He had remained
by my side, watching Japp at work and listening to his questions.
Only, from time to time he had sniffed the air very delicately,
and as if puzzled. I too bad sniffed, but could detect nothing to
arouse interest. The air seemed perfectly fresh and devoid of
odour. And yet, from time to time, Poirot continued to sniff it
dubiously, as though his keener nose detected something I had
missed.

Now, as Japp moved away from the body, Poirot knelt down by
it. He took no interest in the wound. I thought at first that he was


186


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


examining the fingers of the hand that had held the pistol, but
in a minute I saw that it was a handkerchief carried in the coat-sleeve
that interested him. Mr Protheroe was dressed in a dark
grey lounge-suit. Finally Poirot got up from his knees, but his
eyes still strayed back to the handkerchief as though puzzled.

Japp called to him to come and help to lift the door. Seizing
my opportunity, I too knelt down, and taking the handkerchief
from the sleeve, scrutinized it minutely. It was a perfectly plain
handkerchief of white cambric; there was no mark or stain on it
of any kind. I replaced it, shaking my head, and confessing myself
baffled.

The others had raised the door. I realized that they were
hunting for the key. They looked in vain.

'That settles it,' said Japp. 'The window's shut and bolted.
The murderer left by the door, locking it and taking the key with
him. He thought it would be accepted that Protherhoe had locked
himself in and shot himself, and that the absence of the key would
not be noticed. You agree, M. Poirot?'

'I agree, yes; but it would have been simpler and better to slip
the key back inside the room under the door. Then it would look
as though it had fallen from the lock.'

'Ah, well, you can't expect everybody to have the bright ideas
that you have. You'd have been a holy terror if you'd taken to
crime. Any remarks to make, M. Poirot?'

Poirot, it seemed to me, was somewhat at a loss. He looked
round the room and remarked mildly and almost apologetically:
'He smoked a lot, this monsieur.'

True enough, the grate was filled with cigarette-stubs, as was an
ashtray that stood on a small table near the big armchair.

'He must have got through about twenty cigarettes last night,'
remarked Japp. Stooping down, he examined the contents of the
grate carefully, then transferred his attention to the ashtray.
'They're all the same kind,' he announced, 'and smoked by the
same man. There's nothing there, M. Poirot.'

'I did not suggest that there was,' murmured my friend.

'Ha,' cried Japp, 'what's this?' He pounced on something
bright and glittering that lay on the floor near the dead man. 'A


187


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


broken cuff-link. I wonder who this belongs to. Dr Giles, I'd be
obliged if you'd go down and send up the housekeeper.'

'What about the Parkers? He's very anxious to leave the house
- says he's got urgent business in London.'

'I dare say. It'll have to get on without him. By the way things
are going, it's likely that there'll be some urgent business down
here for him to attend to! Send up the housekeeper, and don't let
either of the Parkers give you and Pollard the slip. Did any of the

household come in here this morning?'

The doctor reflected.

'No, they stood outside in the corridor while Pollard and I
came in.'

'Sure of that?'

'Absolutely certain.'

The doctor departed on his mission.

'Good man, that,' said Japp approvingly. 'Some of these
sporting doctors are first-class fellows. Well, I wonder who shot
this chap. It looks like one of the three in the house. I hardly
suspect the housekeeper. She's had eight years to shoot him in if
she wanted to. I wonder who these Parkers are? They're not a
prepossessing-looking couple.'

Miss Clegg appeared at this juncture. She was a thin, gaunt
woman with neat grey hair parted in the middle, very staid and
calm in manner. Nevertheless there was an air of efficiency about
her which commanded respect. In answer to Japp's questions,
she explained that she had been with the dead man for fourteen
years. He had been a generous and considerate master. She had
never seen Mr and Mrs Parker until three days ago, when they
arrived unexpectedly to stay. She was of the opinion that they had
asked themselves - the master had certainly not seemed pleased
to see them. The cuff-links which Japp showed her had not
belonged to Mr Protheroe - she was sure of that. Questioned about
the pistol, she said that she believed her master had a weapon of
that kind. He kept it locked up. She had seen it once some years
ago, but could not say whether this was the same one. She had
heard no shot last night, but that was not surprising, as it was a
big, rambling house, and her rooms and those prepared for the


188


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

Parkers were at the other end of the building. She did not know
what time Mr Protheroe had gone t°bed - he was still up when
she retired at half past nine. It was not his habit to go at once to
bed when he went to his room. Usually he would sit up half the
night, reading and smoking. He was a great smoker.
Then Poirot interposed a question:
'Did your master sleep with his window open or shut, as a rule?'
Miss Clegg considered.
'It was usually open, at any rate at the top.'
'Yet now it is closed. Can you explain that?'
'No, unless he felt a draught and shut it.'
Japp asked her a few more questions and then dismissed her.
Next he interviewed the Parkers separately. Mrs Parker was
inclined to be hysterical and tearful; Mr Parker was full of bluster
and abuse. He denied that the cuff-link was his, but as his wife
had previously recognized it, this hardly improved matters for
him; and as he had also denied ever having been in Protheroe's
room, Japp considered that he had sufficient evidence to apply for a
warrant.
Leaving Pollard in charge, Japp bustled back to the village and
got into telephonic communication with headquarters. Poirot and
I strolled back to the inn.
'You're unusually quiet,' I said. 'Doesn't the case interest you?'
'Au contraire, it interests me enormously. But it puzzles me
also.'
'The motive is obscure,' I said thoughtfully, 'but I'm certain
that Parker's a bad lot. The case against him seems pretty clear
but for the lack of motive, and that may come out later.'
'Nothing struck you as being§ especially significant, although
overlooked by Japp?'
I looked at him curiously.
'What have you got up your sleeve, Poirot?'
'What did the dead man have up his sleeve?'
'Oh, that handkerchiefl'
'Exactly, the handkerchief.'
'A sailor carries his handkerchief in his sleeve,' I said thoughtfully.

189


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'An excellent point, Hastings, though not the one I had in
mind.'

'Anything else?'

'Yes, over and over again I go back to the smell of cigarette-smoke.'

'I didn't smell any,' I cried wonderingly.

'No more did I, chef am pounds

I looked earnestly at him. It is so difficult to know when Poirot
is pulling one's leg, but he seemed thoroughly in earnest and was
frowning to himself.


The inquest took place two days later. In the meantime other
evidence had come to light. A tramp had admitted that he had
climbed over the wall into the Leigh House garden, where he
often slept in a shed that was left unlocked. He declared that at
twelve o'clock he had heard two men quarrelling loudly in a room
on the first floor. One was demanding a sum of money; the other
was angrily refusing. Concealed behind a bush, he had seen the
two men as they passed and repassed the lighted window. One he
knew well as being Mr Protheroe, the owner of the house; the
other he identified positively as Mr Parker.

It was clear now that the Parkers had come to Leigh House to
blackmail Protheroe, and when later it was discovered that the
dead man's real name was Wendover, and that he had been a
lieutenant in the Navy and had been concerned in the blowing up
of the first-class cruiser Merrythought, in 9xo, the case seemed
to be rapidly clearing. It was supposed that Parker, cognizant of
the part Wendover had played, had tracked him down and
dem.anded hush-money which the other refused to pay. In the
course of the quarrel, Wendover drew his revolver, and Parker
snatched it from him and shot him, subsequently endeavouring to
give it the appearance of suicide.

Parker was committed for trial, reserving his defence. We had
attended the police-court proceedings. As we left, Poirot nodded
his head.

'It must be so,' he murmured to himself. 'Yes, it must be so. I
will delay no longer.'


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

He went into the post office, and wrote off a note which he
despatched by special messenger. I did not see to whom it was
addressed. Then we returned to the inn where we had stayed on
that memorable weekend.
Poirot was restless, going to and from the window.
'I await a visitor,' he explained. 'It cannot be - surely it cannot
be that I am mistaken? No, here she is.'
To my utter astonishment, in another minute Miss Clegg
walked into the room. She was less calm than usual, and was
breathing hard as though she had been running. I saw the fear in
her eyes as she looked at Poirot.
'Sit down, mademoiselle,' he said kindly. 'I guessed rightly,
did I not?'
For answer she burst into tears.
'Why did you do it?' asked Poirot gently. 'Why?'
'I loved him so,' she answered. 'I was nursemaid to him when
he was a little boy. Oh, be merciful to me!'
'I will do all I can. But you understand that I cannot permit an
innocent man to hang - even though he is an unpleasing scoundrel.'
She sat up and said in a low voice: 'Perhaps in the end I could
not have, either. Do whatever must be done.'
Then, rising, she hurried from the room.
'Did she shoot him?' I asked, utterly bewildered.
Poirot smiled and shook his head.
'He shot himself. Do you remember that he carried his handkerchief
in his right sleeve? That showed me that he was left-handed.
Fearing exposure, after his stormy interview with Mr
Parker, he shot himself. In the morning Miss Clegg came to call
him as usual and found him lying dead. As she has just told us,
she had known him from a little boy upward, and was filled with
fury against the Parkers, who had driven him to this shameful
death. She regarded them as murderers, and then suddenly she
saw a chance of making them suffer for the deed they had inspired.
She alone knew that he was left-handed. She changed the pistol
to his right hand, closed and bolted the window, dropped the bit
of cuff-link she had picked up in one of the downstairs rooms, and
went out, locking the door and removing the key.'

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'Poirot,' I said, in a burst of enthusiasm, 'you are magnificent.
All that from the one little clue of the handkerchiefl'

'And the cigarette-smoke. If the window had been closed, and
all those cigarettes smoked, the room ought to have been full of
stale tobacco. Instead, it was perfectly fresh, so I deduced at once
that the window must have been open all night, and only closed
in the morning, and that gave me a very interesting line of specula-tion.
I could conceive of no circumstances under which a murderer
could want to shut the window. It would be to his advantage to
leave it open, and pretend that the murderer had escaped that
way, if the theory of suicide did not go down. Of course, the
tramp's evidence, when I heard it, confirmed my suspicions. He
could never have overheard that conversation unless the window
had been open.'

'Splendid? I said heartily. 'Now, what about some tea?'

'Spoken like a true Englishman,' said Poirot with a sigh. 'I
suppose it is not likely that I could obtain here a glass of sirop?'


192


CHAPTER XV


WASPS' NEST


Out of the house came John Harrison and stood a moment on
the terrace looking out over the garden. He was a big man with a
lean, cadaverous face. His aspect was usually somewhat grim but
when, as now, the rugged features softened into a smile, there was
something very attractive about him.

John Harrison loved his garden, and it had never looked better
than it did on this August evening, summery and languorous.
The rambler roses were still beautiful; sweet peas scented the
air.

A well-known creaking sound made Harrison turn his head
sharply. Who was coming in through the garden gate? In another
minute, an expression of utter astonishment came over his face,
for the dandified figure coming up the path was the last he expected
to see in this part of the world.

'By all that's wonderful,' cried Harrison. 'Monsieur Poirott'

It was, indeed, the famous Hercule Poirot whose renown as a
detective had spread over the whole world.

'Yes,' he said, 'it is I. You said to me once: "If you are ever in
this part of the world, come and see me." I take you at your word.
I arrive.'

'And I'm delighted,' said Harrison heartily. 'Sit down and have
a drink.'

With a hospitable hand, he indicated a table on the veranda
bearing assorted bottles.

'I thank you,' said Poirot, sinking down into a basket chair.
'You have, I suppose, no drop? No, no, I thought not. A little
plain soda water then - no whisky.' And he added in a feeling
voice as the other placed the glass beside him: 'Alas, my moustache
are limp. It is this heatl'


193


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'And what brings you into this quiet spot?' asked Harrison as

he dropped into another chair. 'Pleasure?'

'No, mon ami, business.'

'Business? In this out-of-the-way place?'

Poirot nodded gravely. 'But yes, my friend, all crimes are not
committed in crowds, you know?'

The other laughed. 'I suppose that was rather an idiotic remark
of mine. But what particular crime are you investigating down
here, or is that a thing I mustn't ask?'

'You may ask,' said the detective. 'Indeed, I would prefer that
you asked.'

Harrison looked at him curiously. He sensed something a
little unusual in the other's manner. 'You are investigating a
crime, you say?' he advanced rather hesitatingly. 'A serious
crime?'

'A crime of the most serious there is.'
'You mean...'
'Murder.'

So gravely did Hercule Poirot say that word that Harrison was
quite taken aback. The detective was looking straight at him and
again there was something so unusual in his glance that Harrison
hardly knew how to proceed. At last, he said: 'But I have heard of
no murder.'

'No,' said Poirot, 'you would not have heard of it.'

'Who has been murdered?'

'As yet,' said Hercule Poirot, 'nobody.'

'What?'

'That is why I said you would not have heard of it. I am

investigating a crime that has not yet taken place.'

'But look here, that is nonsense.'

'Not at all. If one can investigate a murder before it has hap-pened,
surely that is very much better than afterwards. One might
even - a little idea - prevent it.'

Harrison stared at him. 'You are not serious, Monsieur Poirot.'
'But yes, I am serious.'

'You really believe that a murder is going to be committed?
oh, it's absurd!'


194


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

Hercule Poirot finished the first part of the sentence without
taking any notice of the exclamation.
'Unless we can manage to prevent it. Yes, mon ami, that is what
I mean.'
'We?'
'I said we. I shall need your cooperation.'
'Is that why you came down here?'
Again Poirot looked at him, and again an indefinable something
made Harrison uneasy.
'I came here, Monsieur ttarrison because I - well - like
you.'
And then he added in an entirely different voice: 'I see, Monsieur
Harrison, that you have a wasps' nest there. You should destroy
it.'
The change of subject made Harrison frown in a puzzled way.
He followed Poirot's glance and said in rather a bewildered voice:
'As a matter of fact, I'm going to. Or rather, young Langton is.
You remember Claude Langton? He was at that same dinner
where I met you. He's coming over this evening to take the nest.
Rather fancies himself at the job.'
'Ah!' said Poirot. 'And how is he going to do it?'
'Petrol and the garden syringe. He's bringing his own syringe
over; it's a more convenient size than mine.'
'There is another way, is there not?' asked Poirot. 'With
cyanide of potassium?'
Harrison looked a little surprised. 'Yes, but that's rather
dangerous stuff. Always a risk having it about the place.'
Poirot nodded gravely. 'Yes, it is deadly poison.' He waited a
minute and then repeated in a grave voice. 'Deadly poison.'
'Useful if you want to do away with your mother-in-law, eh?'
aid Harrison with a laugh.
But Hercule Poirot remained grave. 'And you are quite sure,
Monsieur Harrison, that it is with petrol that Monsieur Langton
ia going to destroy your wasps' nest?'
'Quite sure. Why?'
'I wondered. I was at the chemist's in Barchester this afternoon.
For one of my purchases I had to sign the poison book. I saw the

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


last entry. It was for cyanide of potassium and it was signed for
by Claude Langton.'

Harrison stared. 'That's odd,' he said. 'Langton told me the
other day that he'd never dream of using the stuff; in fact, he said
it oughtn't to be sold for the purpose.'

Poirot looked out over the roses. His voice was very quiet as he
asked a question. 'Do you like Langton?'

The other started. The question somehow seemed to find him
quite unprepared. 'I - I - well, I mean - of course, I like him.
Why shouldn't I?'

'I only wondered,' said Poirot placidly, 'whether you did.'

And as the other did not answer, he went on. 'I also wondered
if he liked you?'

'What are you getting at, Monsieur Poirot? There's something
in your mind I can't fathom.'

'I am going to be very frank. You are engaged to be married,
Monsieur Harrison. I know Miss Molly Dearie. She is a very
charming, a very beautiful girl. Before she was engaged to you,
she was engaged to Claude Langton. She threw him over for
you.'

Harrison nodded.

'I do not ask what her reasons were; she may have been justified.
But I tell you this, it is not too much to suppose that Langton has
not forgotten or forgiven.'

'You're wrong, Monsieur Poirot. I swear you're wrong. Lang-ton's
been a sportsman; he's taken things like a man. He's
been amazingly decent to me - gone out of his way to be
friendly.'

'And that does not strike you as unusual? You use the word

"amazingly", but you do not seem to be amazed.'

'What do you mean, M. Poirot?'

'I mean,' said Poirot, and his voice had a new note in it, 'that

a man may conceal his hate till the proper time comes.'

'Hate?' Harrison shook his head and laughed.

'The English are very stupid,' said Poirot. 'They think that they
can deceive anyone but that no one can deceive them. The
sportsman - the good fellow - never will they believe evil of him.

196


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


And because they are brave, but stupid, sometimes they die when
they need not die.' /

'You are warning me,' said Harrison in a low voice. 'I see it
now - what has puzzled me all along. You are warning me against
Claude Langton. You came here today to warn me...'

Poirot nodded. Harrison sprang up suddenly. 'But you are mad,
Monsieur Poirot. This is England. Things don't happen like that
here. Disappointed suitors don't go about stabbing people in the
back and poisoning them. And you're wrong about Langton. That
chap wouldn't hurt a fly.'

'The lives of flies are not my concern,' said Poirot placidly.
'And although you say Monsieur Langton would not take the life
of one, yet you forget that he is even now preparing to take the
lives of several thousand wasps.'

Harrison did not at once reply. The little detective in his turn
sprang to his feet. He advanced to his friend and laid a hand on his
shoulder. So agitated was he that he almost shook the big man,
and, as he did so, he hissed into his ear: 'Rouse yourself, my friend,
rouse yourself. And look - look where I am pointing. There on
the bank, close by that tree root. See you, the wasps returning
home, placid at the end of the day? In a little hour, there will be
destruction, and they know it not. There is no one to tell them.
They have not, it seems, a Hercule Poirot. I tell you, Monsieur
Harrison, I am down here on business. Murder is my business.
And it is my business before it has happened as well as afterwards.
At what time does Monsieur Langton come to take this wasps'
nest?'

'Langton would never...'

'At what time?'

'At nine o'clock. But I tell you, you're all wrong. Langton would
never...°

'These Englishl' cried Poirot in a passion. He caught up his hat
and stick and moved down the path, pausing to speak over his
shoulder. 'I do not stay to argue with you. I should only enrage
myself. But you understand, I return at nine o'clock?'

Harrison opened his mouth to speak, but Poirot did not give
him the chance. 'I know what you would say: "Langton would


197


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

never," et cetera. Ah, Langton would never{ But all the same I
return at nine o'clock. But, yes, it will amuse me - put it like that - it will amuse me to see the taking of a wasps' nest. Another of your English sports'
He waited for no reply but passed rapidly down the path and
out through the door that creaked. Once outside on the road, his
pace slackened. His vivacity died down, his face became grave
and troubled. Once he drew his watch from his pocket and con-suited
it. The hands pointed to ten minutes past eight. 'Over
three quarters of an hour,' he murmured. 'I wonder if I should
have waited.'
His footsteps slackened; he almost seemed on the point of
returning. Some vague foreboding seemed to assail him. He shook
it off resolutely, however, and continued to walk in the direction
of the village. But his face was still troubled, and once or twice he
shook his head like a man only partly satisfied.
It was still some minutes of nine when he once more approached
the garden door. It was a clear, still evening; hardly a breeze
stirred the leaves. There was, perhaps, something a little sinister
in the stillness, like the lull before a storm.
Poirot's footsteps quickened every so slightly. He was suddenly
alarmed - and uncertain. He feared he knew not what.
And at that moment the garden door opened and Claude
Langton stepped quickly out into the road. He started when he
saw Poirot.
'Oh - er - good evening.'
'Good evening, Monsieur Langton. You are early.'
Langton stared at him. 'I don't know what you mean.'
'You have taken the wasps' nest?'
'As a matter of fact, I didn't.'
'Oh!' said Poirot softly. 'So you did not take the wasps' nest.
What did you do then?'
'Oh, just sat and yarned a bit with old Harrison. I really must
hurry along now, Monsieur Poirot. I'd no idea you were remaining
in this part of the world.'
'I-had business here, you see.'

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'Ohl Well, you'll find Harrison on the terrace. Sorry I can't
stop.'

He hurried away. Poirot looked after him. A nervous young
fellow, good-looking with a weak mouthl

'So I shall find Harrison on the terrace,' murmured Poirot.
'I wonder.' He went in through the garden door and up the path.
Harrison was sitting in a chair by the table. He sat motionless

and did not even turn his head as Poirot came up to him.

'Ah! Mon ami,' said Poirot. 'You are all right, eh?'

There was a long pause and, then Harrison said in a queer,

dazed voice, 'What did you say?'

'I said - are you all right?'

'All right? Yes, I'm all right. Why not?'
'You feel no ill effects? That is good.'
'Ill effects? From what?'
'Washing soda.'

Harrison roused himself suddenly. 'Washing soda? What do
you mean?'

Poirot made an apologetic gesture. 'I infinitely regret the
necessity, but I put some in your pocket.'

'You put some in my pocket? What on earth for?'

IIarrison stared at him. Poirot spoke quietly and impersonally
like a lecturer coming down to the level of a small child.

'You see, one of the advantages, or disadvantages, of being a
detective is that it brings you into contact with the criminal
classes. And the criminal classes, they can teach you some very
interesting and curious things. There was a pickpocket once - I
interested myself in him because for once in a way he has not done
what they say he has done - and so I get him off. And because he
is grateful he pays me in the only way he can think of - which is
to show me the tricks of his trade.

'And so it happens that I can pick a man's pocket if I choose
without his ever suspecting the fact. I lay one hand on his shoulder,
I excite myself, and he feels nothing. But all the same I have
managed to transfer what is in his pocket to my pocket and leave
washing soda in its place.

'You see,' continued Poirot dreamily, 'if a man wants to get at


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

some poison quickly to put in a glass, unobserved, he positively
must keep it in his right-hand coat pocket; there is nowhere else.
I knew it would be there.'
He dropped his hand into his pocket and brought out a few
white, lumpy crystals. 'Exceedingly dangerous,' he murmured, 'to
carry it like that - loose.'
Calmly and without hurrying himself, he took from another
pocket a wide-mouthed bottle. He slipped in the crystals, stepped
to the table and filled up the bottle with plain water. Then carefully
corking it, he shook it until all the crystals were dissolved.
Harrison watched him as though fascinated.
Satisfied with his solution, Poirot stepped across to the nest.
He uncorked the bottle, turned his head aside, and poured the
solution into the wasps' nest, then stood back a pace or two
watching.
Some wasps that were returning alighted, quivered a little and
then lay still. Other wasps crawled out of the hole only to die.
Poirot watched for a minute or two and then nodded his head and
came back to the veranda.
'A quick death,' he said. 'A very quick death.'
Harrison found his voice. 'How much do you know?'
Poirot looked straight ahead. 'As I told you, I saw Claude
Langton's name in the book. What I did not tell you was that
almost immediately afterwards, I happened to meet him. He told
me he had been buying cyanide of potassium at your request - to
take a wasps' nest. That struck me as a little odd, my friend,
because I remember that at that dinner of which you spoke, you
held forth on the superior merits of petrol and denounced the
buying of cyanide as dangerous and unnecessary.'
'Go on.'
'I knew something else. I had seen Claude Langton and Molly
Deane together when they thought no one saw them. I do not know what lovers' quarrel it was that originally parted them and
drove her into your arms, but I realized that misunderstandings
were over and that Miss Deane was drifting back to her love.'
Go on.'
'I knew something more, my fricnd. I was in Harley Street the

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

other day, and I saw you come out of a certain doctor's house. I
know that doctor and for what disease one consults him, and I
read the expression on your face. I have seen it only once or twice
in my lifetime, but it is not easily mistaken. It was the face of a
man under sentence of death. I am right, am I not?'
'Quite right. He gave me two months.'
'You did not see me, my friend, for you had other things to
think about. I saw something else on your face - the thing that I
told you this afternoon men try to conceal. I saw hate there, my
friend. You did not trouble to conceal it, because you thought
there were none to observe.'
'Go on,' said Harrison.
'There is not much more to say. I came down here, saw Lang-ton's
name by accident in the poison book as I tell you, met him,
and came here to you. I laid traps for you. You denied having
asked Langton to get cyanide, or rather you expressed surprise at
his having done so. You were taken aback at first at my appearance,
but presently you saw how well it would fit in and you encouraged
my suspicions. I knew from Langton himself that he was coming
at half past eight. You told me nine o'clock, thinking I should
come and find everything over. And so I knew everything.'
'Why did you come?' cried Harrison. 'If only you hadn't comel'
Poirot drew himself up. 'I told you,' he said, 'murder is my
business.'
'Murder? Suicide, you mean.'
'No.' Poirot's voice rang out sharply and clearly. 'I mean murder.
Your death was to be quick and easy, but the death you planned
for Langton was the worst death any man can die. He bought the
poison; he comes to see you, and he is alone with you. You die
suddenly, and the cyznide is found in your glass, and Claude
Langton hangs. That was your plan.'
Again Harrison moaned.
'Why did you come? Why did you come?'
'I have told you, but there is another reason. I liked you.
Listen, rnon ami, you are a dying man; you have lost the girl you
loved, but there is one thing that you are not: you are not a
murderer. Tell me now: are you glad or sorry that I came?'

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


There was a moment's pause and Harrison drew himself up.
There was a new dignity in his face - the look of a man who has
conquered his own baser self. He stretched out his hand across
the table.

'Thank goodness you came,' he cried. 'Oh, thank goodness you
came.'


202


CHAPTER XVI


THE VEILED LADY


I had noticed that for some time Poirot had been growing in-creasingly
dissatisfied and restless. We had had no interesting
cases of late, nothing on which my little friend could exercise his
keen wits and remarkable powers of deduction. This morning he
flung down the newspaper with an impatient 'Tchah!' - a favourite
exclamation of his which sounded exactly like a cat sneezing.

'They fear me, Hastings; the criminals of your England they
fear mci When the cat is there, the little mice, they come no more
to the cheesel'

'I don't suppose the greater part of them even know of your
existence,' I said, laughing.

Poirot looked at me reproachfully. He always imagines that the
whole world is thinking and talking of Hercule Poirot. tie had
certainly made a name for himself in London, but I could hardly
believe that his existence struck terror into the criminal world.

'What about that daylight robbery of jewels in Bond Street the
other day?' I asked.

'A neat coup,' said Poirot approvingly, 'though not in my line.
Pas de finesse, seuelment de l'audace! A man with a loaded cane
smashes the plate-glass window of a jeweller's shop and grabs a
number of precious stones. Worthy citizens immediately seize him;
a policeman arrives. He is caught red-handed with the jewels on
him. He is marched off to the police, and then it is discovered that
the stones are paste. He has passed the real ones to a confederate
- one of the aforementioned worthy citizens. He will go to prison
- true; but when he comes out, there will be a nice little fortune
awaiting him. Yes, not badly imagined. But I could do better
than that. Sometimes, Hastings, I regret that I am of such a moral
disposition. To work against the law, it would be pleasing, for a
change.'


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'Cheer up, Poirot; you know you are unique in your own line.'
'But what is there on hand in my own line?' I picked up the paper.
'Here's an Englishman mysteriously done to death in Holland,'
I said.
'They always say that - and later they find that he ate the tinned
fish and that his death is perfectly natural.'
'Well, if you're determined to grouse?
'Tiens!' said Poirot, who had strolled across to the window.
'Here in the street is what they call in novels a "heavily veiled
lady". She mounts the steps; she rings the bell - she comes to
consult us. Here is a possibility of something interesting. When one
is as young and pretty as that one, one does not veil the face except for a big affair.'
A minute later our visitor was ushered in. As Poirot had said,
she was indeed heavily veiled. It was impossible to distinguish her
features until she raised her veil of black Spanish lace. Then I
saw that Poirot's intuition had been right; the lady was extremely
pretty, with fair hair and large blue eyes. From the costly simplicity
of her attire, I deduced at once that she belonged to the upper
strata of society.
'Monsieur Poirot,' said the lady in a soft, musical voice, 'I am
in great trouble. I can hardly believe that you can help me, but I
have heard such wonderful things of you that I come literally as
a last hope to beg you to do the impossible.'
'The impossible, it pleases me always,' said Poirot. 'Continue,
I beg of you, mademoiselle.'
Our fair guest hesitated.
'But you must be frank,' added Poirot. 'You must not leave me
in the dark on any point.'
'I will trust you,' said the girl suddenly. 'You have heard of
Lady Millicent Castle Vaughan?'
I looked up with keen interest. The announcement of Lady
Millicent's engagement to the young Duke of Southshire had
appeared a few days previously. She was, I knew, the fifth daughter
of an impecunious Irish peer, and the Duke of Southshire was one
of the best matches in England.

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'Iarn Lady Millicent,' continued the girl. 'You may have read
of nY engagement. I should be one of the happiest girls alive; but
oh, M. Poirot, I am in terrible troublel There is a man, a horrible
man - his name is Lavington; and he - I hardly know how to tell
you. 'Ihere was a letter I wrote - I was only sixteen at the time;
and he - he - '

'¢ letter that you wrote to this Mr Lavington?'

'Oh no - not to him! To a young soldier - I was very fond of
him- he was killed in the war.'

'I understand,' said Poirot kindly.

'It v/as a foolish letter, an indiscreet letter, but indeed, M.
PoirOt, nothing more. But there are phrases in it which - which
might bear a different interpretation.'

'I see,' said Poirot. 'And this letter has come into the possession
of lgr Lavington?'

'„e, and he threatens, unless I pay him an enormous sum of
money, a sum that it is quite impossible for me to raise, to send
it to the Duke.'

'The dirty swinel' I ejaculated. 'I beg your pardon, Lady
Millicent.'

'l/culd it not be wiser to confess all to your future husband?'
'I &are not, M. Poirot. The Duke is a rather peculiar character,
jealous and suspicious and prone to believe the worst. I might as
well break off my engagement at once.'

'l)ear, dear,' said Poirot with an expressive grimace. 'And what
do you want me to do, milady?'

'I thought perhaps that I might ask Mr Lavington to call upon
you. I would tell him that you were empowered by me to discuss

the matter. Perhaps you could reduce his demands.'

'Btlat sum does he mention?'

've'enty thousand pounds - an impossibility. I doubt if I
could xaise a thousand, even.'

"/ora might perhaps borrow the money on the prospect of your
aplrOching marriage - but I doubt if you could get hold of half
that sram. Besides - eh bien, it is repugnant to me that you should
payl 1o, the ingenuity of Hercule Poirot shall defeat your enemiesl


205


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

' Cheer up, Poirot; you know you are unique in your own line.'
· But what is there on hand in my own line?'
I picked up the paper.
' Here's an Englishman mysteriously done to death in Holland,'
I staid.
' They always say that - and later they find that he ate the tinned
fisl and that his death is perfectly natural.'
' Well, if you're determined to grouse!'
"Tiens!' said Poirot, who had strolled across to the window.
'HEre in the street is what they call in novels a "heavily veiled
lacy". She mounts the steps; she rings the bell - she comes to
consult us. Here is a possibility of something interesting. When one
is as young and pretty as that one, one does not veil the face except
for- a big affair.'
minute later our visitor was ushered in. As Poirot had said,
she was indeed heavily veiled. It was impossible to distinguish her
features until she raised her veil of black Spanish lace. Then I
sa;v that Poirot's intuition had been right; the lady was extremely
pretty, with fair hair and large blue eyes. From the costly simplicity
of her attire, I deduced at once that she belonged to the upper
tr ara of society.
Monsieur Poirot,' said the lady in a soft, musical voice, 'I am
in great trouble. I can hardly believe that you can help me, but I
halve heard such wonderful things of you that I come literally as
a last hope to beg you to do the impossible.'
'The impossible, it pleases me always,' said Poirot. 'Continue,
I leg of you, mademoiselle.'
Our fair guest hesitated.
'But you must be frank,' added Poirot. 'You must not leave me
in the dark on any point.'
'I will trust you,' said the girl suddenly. 'You have heard of
Ldy Millicent Castle Vaughan?'
I looked up with keen interest. The announcement of Lady
M2illicent's engagement to the young Duke of Southshire had
alpeared a few days previously. She was, I knew, the fifth daughter
of an impecunious Irish peer, and the Duke of Southshire was one
of the best matches in England.

2O4


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'I am Lady Millicent,' continued the girl. 'You may have read
of my engagement. I should be one of the happiest girls alive; but
oh, M. Poirot, I am in terrible troublel There is a man, a horrible
man - his name is Lavington; and he - I hardly know how to tell
you. There was a letter I wrote - I was only sixteen at the time;
and he - he '
'A letter that you wrote to this Mr Lavington?'
'Oh no - not to him! To a young soldier - I was very fond of
him - he was killed in the war.'
'I understand,' said Poirot kindly.
'It was a foolish letter, an indiscreet letter, but indeed, M.
Poirot, nothing more. But there are phrases in it which - which
might bear a different interpretation.'
'I see,' said Poirot. 'And this letter has come into the possession
of Mr Lavington?'
'Yes, and he threatens, unless I pay him an enormous sum of
money, a sum that it is quite impossible for me to raise, to send
it to the Duke.'
'The dirty swine? I ejaculated. 'I beg your pardon, Lady
Millicent.'
'Would it not be wiser to confess all to your future husband?'
'I dare not, M. Poirot. The Duke is a rather peculiar character,
jealous and suspicious and prone to believe the worst. I might as
well break off my engagement at once.'
'Dear, dear,' said Poirot with an expressive grimace. 'And what
do you want me to do, milady?'
'I thought perhaps that I might ask Mr Lavington to call upon
you. I would tell him that you were empowered by me to discuss
the matter. Perhaps you could reduce his demands.'
'What sum does he mention?'
'Twenty thousand pounds - an impossibility. I doubt if I
could raise a thousand, even.'
'You might perhaps borrow the money on the prospect of your
approaching marriage - but I doubt if you could get hold of half
that sum. Besides - eh bien, it is repugnant to me that you should
payl No, the ingenuity of Hercule Poirot shall defeat your enemiesl

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


8end me this Mr Lavington. Is he likely to bring the letter with
him?'

The girl shook her head.

'I do not think so. He is very cautious.'

'I suppose there is no doubt that he really has it?'

'He showed it to me when I went to his house.'

'You went to his house? That was very imprudent, milady.'

'Was it? I was so desperate. I hoped my entreaties might move
him.'

'Oh, Id Id! The Lavingtons of this world are not moved by
entreatiesl He would welcome them as showing how much im-portance
you attached to the document. Where docs he live, this
frae gentleman?'

'At Buona Vista, Wimbledon. I went there after dark - ' Poirot
groaned. 'I declared that I would inform the police in the end,
but he only laughed in a horrid, sneering manner. "By all means,
my dear Lady Millicent, do so if you wish," he said.'

'Yes, it is hardly an affair for the police,' murmured Poirot.

' "But I think you will be wiser than that," he continued. "See,
here is your letter - in this little Chinese puzzle boxl" He held it
o that I could see. I tried to snatch at it, but he was too quick for
me. With a horrid smile he folded it up and replaced it in the little
wooden box. "It will be quite safe here, I assure you," he said,
"and the box itself lives in such a clever place that you would
never find it." My eyes turned to the small wall-safe, and he
shook his head and laughed. "I have a better safe than that," he
said. Oh, he was odiousl M. Poirot, do you think that you can
help me?'

'Have faith in Papa Poirot. I will find a way.'

These reassurances were all very well, I thought, as Poirot
gallantly ushered his fair client down the stairs, but it seemed to
me that we had a tough nut to crack. I said as much to Poirot
when he returned. He nodded ruefully.

'Yes - the solution does not leap to the eye. He has the whip
hand, this M. Lavington. For the moment I do not see how we
· re to circumvent him.'


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


Mr Lavingdon duly called upon us that afternoon. Lady Millicent
had spoken truly when she described him as an odious man. I felt
a positive tingling in the end of my boot, so keen was I to kick
him down the stairs. He was blustering and overbearing in manner,
laughed Poirot's gentle suggestions to scorn, and generally showed
himself as master of the situation. I could not help feeling that
Poirot was hardly appearing at his best. He looked discouraged
and crestfallen.

'Well, gentlemen,' said Lavington, as he took up his hat, 'we
don't seem to be getting much further. The case stands like this:
I'll let the Lady Millicent off cheap, as she is such a charming
young lady.' He leered odiously. 'We'll say eighteen thousand.
I'm off to Paris today - a little Piece of business to attend to over
there. I shall be back on Tuesday. Unless the money is paid by
Tuesday evening, the letter goes to the Duke. Don't tell me Lady
Millicent can't raise the money. Some of her gentlemen friends
would be only too willing to oblige such a pretty woman with a
loan - if she goes the right way about it.'

My face flushed, and I took a step forward, but Lavington had
wheeled out of the room as he finished his sentence.

'My GodI' I cried. 'Something has got to be done. You seem to
be taking this lying down, Poirot.'

'You have an excellent heart, my friend - but your grey cells
are in a deplorable condition. I have no wish to impress Mr
Lavington with my capabilities. The more pusillanimous he thinks

me, the better.'

'Why?'

'It is curious,' murmured Poirot reminiscently, 'that I should
have uttered a wish to work against the law just before Lady
Millicent arrivedl'

'You are going to burgle his house while he is away?' I gasped.

'Sometimes, Hastings, your mental processes are amazingly
quick.'

'Suppose he takes the letter with him?'

Poirot shook his head.

'That is very unlikely. He has evidently a hiding-place in his
house that he fancies to be pretty impregnable.'


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POIRO'f':S EARLY CASES

'When do we - er - do the deed?'
'Tomorrow night. We will start from here about eleven o'clock.'

At the time appointed I was ready to set off. I had donned a dark
suit, and a soft dark hat. Poirot beamed kindly on me.
'You have dressed the part, I see,' he observed. 'Come let us
take the underground to Wimbledon.'
'Aren't we going to take anything with us? Tools to break in
with?'
'My dear Hastings, Hercule Poirot does not adopt such crude
methods.'
I retired, snubbed, but my curiosity was alert.
It was just on midnight that we entered the small suburban
garden of Buona Vista. The house was dark and silent. Poirot
went straight to a window at the back of the house, raised the sash
noiselessly and bade me enter.
'How did you know this window would be open?' I whispered,
for really it seemed uncanny.
'Because I sawed through the catch this morning.'
'What?'
'But yes, it was the most simple. I called, presented a fictitious
card and one of Inspector Japp's official ones. I said I had been
sent, recommended by Scotland Yard, to attend to some burglarproof
fastenings that Mr Lavington wanted fixed while he waz
away. The housekeeper welcomed me with enthusiasm. It seems
they have had two attempted burglaries here lately - evidently our
little idea has occurred to other clients of Mr Lavington's - with
nothing of value taken. I examined all the windows, made my
little arrangement, forbade the servants to touch the windows until
tomorrow, as they were electrically connected up, and withdrew
gracefully.'
'Really, Poirot, you are wonderful.'
'Mon ami, it was of the simplest. Now, to work! The servants
sleep at the top of the house, so we will run little risk of disturbing
them.'
'I presume the safe is built into the wall somewhere?'
'Safe? Fiddlesticks! There is no safe. Mr Lavington is an

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

intelligent man. You will see, he will have devised a hiding-place
much more intelligent than a safe. A safe is the first thing everyone
looks for.'
Whereupon we began a systematic search of the entire place.
But after several hours' ransacking of the house, our search had
been unavailing. I saw symptoms of anger gathering on Poirot's
face.
'Ah, sapristi, is Hercule Poirot to be beaten? Never! Let us be
calm. Let us reflect. Let us reason. Let us - en! - employ our
little grey cells!'
He paused for some moments, bending his brows in concentration;
then the green light I knew so well stole into his eyes.
'I have been an imbecile! The kitchen?
'The kitchen,' I cried. 'But that's impossible. The servantsl'
'Exactly. Just what ninety-nine people out of a hundred would
sayl And for that very reason the kitchen is the ideal place to
choose. It is full of various homely objects. En avant, to the
kitchenl'
I followed him, completely sceptical, and watched whilst he
dived into bread-bins, tapped saucepans, and put his head into
the gas-oven. In the end, tired of watching him, I strolled back
to the study. I was convinced that there, and there only, would we
find the cache. I made a further minute search, noted that it was
now a quarter past four and that therefore it would soon be
growing light, and then went back to the kitchen regions.
To my utter amazement, Poirot was now standing right inside
the coal-bin, to the utter ruin of his neat light suit. He made a
grimace.
'But yes, my friend, it is against all my instincts so to ruin my
appearance, but what will you?'
'But Lavington can't have buried it under the coal?'
'If you would use your eyes, you would see that it is not the
coal that I examine.'
I then saw that on a shelf behind the coal-bunker some logs of
wood were piled. Poirot was dexterously taking them down one
by one. Suddenly he uttered a low exclamation.
'Your knife, Hastings!'

209


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

I handed it to him. He appeared to insert it in the wood, and
suddenly the log split in two. It had been neatly sawn in half and
a cavity hollowed out in the centre. From this cavity Poirot took a
little wooden box of Chinese make.
'Well done!' I cried, carried out of myself.
'Gently, Hastingsl Do not raise your voice too much. Come, let
us be off, before the daylight is upon us.'
Slipping the box into his pocket, he leaped lightly out of the
coal-bunker, brushed himself down as well as he could, and leaving
the house by the same way as we had come, we walked rapidly in
the direction of London.
'But what an extraordinary place!' I expostulated. 'Anyone
might have used the log.'
'In July, Hastings? And it was at the bottom of the pile - a very
ingenious hiding-place. Ah, here is a taxil Now for home, a wash,
and a refreshing sleep.'

After the excitement of the night, I slept late. When I finally
strolled into our sitting-room just before one o'clock, I was
surprised to see Poirot, leaning back in an armchair, the Chinese
box open beside him, calmly reading the letter he had taken
from it.
He smiled at me affectionately, and tapped the sheet he held.
'She was right, the Lady Millicent; never would the Duke have
pardoned this letter{ It contains some of the most extravagant
terms of affection I have ever come across.'
'Really, Poirot,' I said, rather disgustedly, 'I don't think you
should really have read the letter. That's the sort of thing that
isn't done.'
'It is done by Hercule Poirot,' replied my friend imperturbably.
'And another thing,' I said. 'I don't think using Japp's official
card yesterday was quite playing the game.'
'But I was not playing a game, Hastings. I was conducting a case.' I shrugged my shoulders. One can't argue with a point of view.
'A step on the stairs,' said Poirot. 'That will be Lady Millicent.'
Our fair client came in with an anxious expression on her face

210


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

which changed to one of delight on seeing the letter and go:
which Poirot held up.
'Oh, M. Poirot. How wonderful of you! How did you do it?'
'By rather reprehensible methods, milady. But Mr Lavingto
will not prosecute. This is your letter, is it not?'
She glanced through it.
'Yes. Oh, how can I ever thank youl You are a wonderfu
wonderful man. Where was it hidden?'
Poirot told her.
'How very clever of you? She took up the smll box from th
table. 'I shall keep this as a souvenir.'
'I had hoped, milady, that you would permit fne to keep it.
also as a souvenir.'
'I hope to send you a better souvenir than that - on my wedding
day. You shall not find me ungrateful, M. Poirot.'
'The pleasure of doing you a service will be more to me than
cheque - so you permit that I retain the box.'
'Oh no, M. Poirot, I simply must have that,' she cried !aug}
ingly.
She stretched out her hand, but Poirot was before her./lis hah
closed over it.
'I think not.' His voice had changed.
'What do you mean?' Her voice seemed to have grown sharpe
'At any rate, permit me to abstract its further contents. Yo
observe that the original cavity has been reduced by hall In th
top half, the compromising letter; in the bottom -- '
He made a nimble gesture, then held out his haod. On the pair
were four large glittering stones, and two big milky white pearl:
'The jewels stolen in Bond Street the other day, I rather fancy
murmured Poirot. 'Japp will tell us.'
To my utter amazement, Japp himself stepped out from Poirot
bedroom.
'An old friend of yours, I believe,' said Poirot politely to La
Milllcent.
'Nabbed, by the Lord!' said Lady Millicent, with a comple
change of manner. 'You nippy old devill' She looked at Poirot wit
almost affectionate awe.

211


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'Well, Gertie, my dear,' said Japp, 'the game's up this time, I
fancy. Fancy seeing you again so sooni We've got your pal, too,
the gentleman who called here the other day calling himself
Lavington. As for Lavington himself, alias Croker, alias Reed, I
wonder which of the gang it was who stuck a knife into him the
other day in Holland? Thought he'd got the goods with him, didn't
you? And he hadn't. He double-crossed you properly - hid 'em
in his own house. You had two fellows looking for them, and then
you tackled M. Poirot here, and by a piece of amazing luck he
found them.'

'You do like talking, don't you?' said the late Lady Millicent.
'Easy there, now. I'll go quietly. You can't say that I'm not the
perfect lady. Ta-ta, all!'

'The shoes were wrong,' said Poirot dreamily, while I was still
too stupefied to speak. 'I have made my little observations of your
English nation, and a lady, a born lady, is always particular about
her shoes. She may have shabby clothes, but she will be well shod.
Now, this Lady Millicent had smart, expensive clothes, and cheap
shoes. It was not likely that either you or I should have seen the
real Lady Millicent; she has been very little in London, and this
girl had a certain superficial resemblance which would pass well
enough. As I say, the shoes first awakened my suspicions, and
then her story - and her veil - were a little melodramatic, eh?
The Chinese box with a bogus compromising letter in the top
must have been known to all the gang, but the log of wood was the
late Mr Lavington's own idea. Eh, par exernple, Hastings, I hope
you will not again wound my feelings as you did yesterday by
aying that I am unknown to the criminal classes. Ma roi, they
even employ me when they themselves fail?


212


CHAPTER XVII

PROBLEM AT SEA

'Colonel Clapperton!' said General Forbes.
He said it with an effect midway between a snort and a sniff.
Miss Ellie Henderson leaned forward, a strand of her soft grey
hair blowing across her face. Her eyes, dark and snapping, gleamed
with a wicked pleasure.
'Such a soldierly-looking man? she said with malicious intent,
and smoothed back the lock of hair to await the result.
'Soldierly!' exploded General Forbes. He tugged at his military
moustache and his face became bright red.
'In the Guards, wasn't he?' murmured Miss Henderson,
completing her work.
'Guards? Guards? Pack of nonsense. Fellow was on the music
hall stagel Fact! Joined up and was out in France counting tins of
plum and apple. Huns dropped a stray bomb and he went home
with a flesh wound in the arm. Somehow or other got into Lady
Carrington's hospital.'
'So that's how they met.'
'Fact! Fellow played the wounded hero. Lady Carrington had
no sense and oceans of money. Old Carrington had been in
munitions. She'd been a widow only six months. This fellow snaps
her up in no time. She wangled him a job at the War Office. Colonel Clappertonl Pahl' he snorted.
'And before the war he was on the music hall stage,' mused
Miss Henderson, trying to reconcile the distinguished grey-haired
Colonel Clapperton with a red-nosed comedian singing mirth-provoking
songs.
'Fact!' said General Forbes. 'Heard it from old Basaingtonffrench.
And he heard it from old Badger Cotterill who'd got it
from Snooks Parker.'
Miss Henderson nodded brightly. 'That does seem to settle it!'
she said.

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

A fleeting smile showed for a minute on the face of a small man
sitting near them. Miss Henderson noticed the smile. She was
observant. It had shown appreciation of the irony underlying her
last remark - irony which the General never for a moment
suspected.
The General himself did not notice the smiles. He glanced at
his watch, rose and remarked: 'Exercise. Got to keep oneself fit on
a boat,' and passed out through the open door on to the deck.
Miss Henderson glanced at the man who had smiled. It was a
well-bred glance indicating that she was ready to enter into
conversation with a fellow traveller.
'He is energetic - yes?' said the little man.
'He goes round the deck forty-eight times exactly,' said Miss
Henderson. 'What an old gossip! And they say we are the scandal-loving
sex.'
'What an impoliteness!'
'Frenchmen are always polite,' said Miss Henderson - there was
the nuance of a question in her voice.
The little man responded promptly. 'Belgian, mademoiselle.'
'Obi Belgian.'
'Hercule Poirot. At your service.'
The name aroused some memory. Surely she had heard it
before - ? 'Are you enjoying this trip, M. Poirot?'
'Frankly, no. It was an imbecility to allow myself to be persuaded
to come. I detest la mcr. Never does it remain tranquil no,
not for a little minute.'
'Well, you admit it's quite calm now.'
M. Poirot admitted this grudgingly. '.4 ce moment, yes. That is
why I revive. I once more interest myself in what passes around
me - your very adept handling of the General Forbes, for instance.'
'You mean -' Miss Henderson paused.
ttercule Poirot bowed. 'Your methods of extracting the scandalous
matter. Admirable?
Miss Henderson laughed in an unashamed manner. 'That touch
about the Guards? I knew that would bring the old boy up
spluttering and gasping.' She leaned forward confidentially. 'I
admit I life scandal - the more ill-natured, the betterl'

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Poirot looked thoughtfully at her - her slim well-preserved
figure, her keen dark eyes, her grey hair; a woman of forty-five
who was content to look her age.
Ellie said abruptly: 'I have it! Aren't you the great detective?'
Poirot bowed. 'You are too amiable, mademoiselle.' But he
made no disclaimer.
'How thrilling,' said Miss Henderson. 'Are you "hot on the
trail" as they say in books? Have we a criminal secretly in our
midst? Or am I being indiscreet?'
'Not at all. Not at all. It pains me to disappoint your expectations,
but I am simply here, like everyone else, to amuse myself.'
He said it in such a gloomy voice that Miss Henderson laughed.
'Oh! Well, you will be able to get ashore tomorrow at Alexandria.
You have been to Egypt before?'
'Never, mademoiselle.'
Miss Henderson rose somewhat abruptly.
'I think I shall join the General on his constitutional,' she
announced.
Poirot sprang politely to his feet.
She gave him a little nod and passed out on to the deck.
A faint puzzled look showed for a moment in Poirot's eyes, then,
a little smile creasing his lips, he rose, put his head through the
door and glanced down the deck. Miss Henderson was leaning
against the rail talking to a tall, soldierly-looking man.
Poirot's smile deepened. He drew himself back into the smoking-room
with the same exaggerated care with which a tortoise withdraws
itself into its shell. For the moment he had the smoking-room
to himself, though he rightly conjectured that that would
not last long.
It did not. Mrs Clapperton, her cdrefully waved platinum head
protected with a net, her massaged and dieted form dressed in a
smart sports suit, came through the door from the bar with the
purposeful air of a woman who has always been able to pay top
price for anything she needed.
She said: 'John - ? Ohl Good morning, M. Poirot - have you
seen John?'
'He's on the starboard deck, madame. Shall I - ?'

215


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

She arrested him with a gesture. 'I'll sit here a minute.' She at
down in a regal fashion in the chair opposite him. From the
distance she had looked a possible twenty-eight. Now, in spite of
her exquisitely made-up face, her delicately plucked eyebrows,
she looked not her actual forty-nine years, but a possible fifty-five.
Her eyes were a hard pale blue with tiny pupils.
'I was sorry not to have seen you at dinner last night,' she said.
'It was just a shade choppy, of course -'
'Prdcisgrnent,' said Poirot with feeling.
'Luckily, I am an excellent sailor,' said Mrs Clapperton. 'I say
luckily, because, with my weak heart, seasickness would probably
be the death of me.'
'You have the weak heart, madame?'
'Yes, I have to be most careful. I must not overtire myself AR
the specialists say so!' Mrs Clapperton had embarked on the - to
her - ever-fascinating topic of her health. 'John, poor darting,
wears himself out trying to prevent me from doing too much. I
live so intensely, if you know what I mean, M. Poirot?'
'Yes, yes.'
'He always says to me: "Try to be more of a vegetable, Adeline."
But I can't. Life was meant to be lived, I feel. As a matter of fact
I wore myself out as a girl in the war. My hospital - you've heard
of my hospital? Of course I had nurses and matrons and all that but
I actually ran it.' She sighed.
'Your vitality is marvellous, dear lady,' said Poirot, with the
8lightly mechanical air of one responding to his cue.
Mrs Clapperton gave a girlish laugh.
'Everyone tells me how young I ami It's absurd. I never try to
pretend I'm a day less than forty-three,' she continued with
lightly mendacious candour, 'but a lot of people find it hard to
believe. "You're so alive, Adeline," they ay to me. But really, M.
Poirot, what would one be if one wasn't alive?'
'Dead,' said Poirot.
Mrs Clapperton frowned. The reply was not to her liking. The
man, she decided, was trying to be funny. She got up and said
coldly: 'I must find John.'
As she stepped through the door she dropped her handbag. It

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

opened and the contents flew far and wide. Poirot rushed gallantly
to the rescue. It was some few minutes before the lipsticks, vanit
boxes, cigarette case and lighter and other odds and ends were
collected. Mrs Clapperton thanked him politely, then she swep!
down the deck and said, 'John '
Colonel Clapperton was still deep in conversation with Mis
Henderson. He swung round and came quickly to meet his wife.
He bent over her protectively. Her deck chair - was it in the right
place? Wouldn't it be better - ? His manner was courteous - full
of gentle consideration. Clearly an adored wife spoilt by ar
adoring husband.
Miss Ellie Henderson looked out at the horizon as though.
something about it rather disgusted her.
Standing in the smoking-room door, Poirot looked on.
A hoarse quavering voice behind him said: 'I'd take a hatchet to
that woman if I were her husband.' The old gentleman known
disrespectfully among the younger set on board as the Grandfather
of All the Tea Planters, had just shuffled in. 'Boyl' he called. 'Get
me a whisky peg.'
Poirot stooped to retrieve a torn scrap of notepaper, an over.
looked item from the contents of Mrs Clapperton's bag. Part of . prescription, he noted, containing digitalin. He put it in hi.'
pocket, meaning to restore it to Mrs Clapperton later.
'Yes,' went on the aged passenger. 'Poisonous woman, l
remember a woman like that in Poona. In '87 that was.'
'Did anyone take a hatchet to her?' inquired Poirot.
The old gentleman shook his head sadly.
'Worried her husband into his grave within the year. Clapperton
ought to assert himself. Gives his wife her head too much.'
'She holds the purse strings,' said Poirot gravely.
'Ha, ha!' chuckled the old gentleman. 'You've put the matter in
a nutshell. Holds the purse strings. Ha, hal'
Two girls burst into the smoking-room. One had a round face
with freckles and dark hair streaming out in a windswept con. fusion, the other had freckles and curly chestnut hair.
'A rescue - a rescue? cried Kitty Mooney. 'Pam and I are going
to rescue Colonel Clapperton.'

217


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'From his wife,' gasped Pamela Cregan.
'We think he's a pet...'
'And she's just awful - she won't let him do anything,' the two
girls exclaimed.
'And if he isn't with her, he's usually grabbed by the Henderson
woman...'
'Who's quite nice. But terribly old...'
They ran out, gasping in between giggles: 'A rescue - a rescue

That the rescue of Colonel Clapperton was no isolated sally, but
a fixed project was made clear that same evening when the eighteen-year-old
Pam Cregan came up to Hercule Poirot, and murmured:
'Watch us, M. Poirot. He's going to be cut out from under her
nose and taken to walk in the moonlight on the boat deck.'
It was just at that moment that Colonel Clapperton was saying:
'I grant you the price of a Rolls-Royce. But it's practically good
for a lifetime. Now my car - '
'My car, I think, John.' Mrs Clapperton's voice was shrill and
penetrating.
He showed no annoyance at her ungraciousness. Either he was
used to it by this time, or else 'Or
else?' thought Poirot and let himself speculate.
'Certainly, my dear, your car,' Clapperton bowed to his wife
and finished what he had been saying, perfectly unruffled.
'Voild ce qu'on appelle le pukka sahib,' thought Poirot. 'But the
General Forbes says that Clapperton is no gentleman at all. I
wonder now.'
There was a suggestion of bridge. Mrs Clapperton, General
Forbes and a hawk-eyed couple sat down to it. Miss Henderson
had excused herself and gone out on deck.
'What about your husband?' asked General Forbes, hesitating.
'John won't play,' said Mrs Clapperton. 'Most tiresome of
him.'
The four bridge players began shuffling the cards.
Pam and Kitty advanced on Colonel Clapperton. Each one took
an arm.

218


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'You're coming with us!' said Pam. 'To the boat deck. There's
a moon.'

'Don't be foolish, John,' said Mrs Clapperton. 'You'll catch a
chill.'

'llot with us, he won't,' said Kitty. 'We're hot stuff!'

He went with them, laughing.

Poirot noticed that Mrs Clapperton said No Bid to her initial
bid of Two Clubs.

He strolled out on to the promenade deck. Miss Henderson
was standing by the rail. She looked round expectantly as he came
to stand beside her and he saw the drop in her expression.

They chatted for a while. Then presently as he fell silent she
asked: 'What are you thinking about?'

Poirot replied: 'I am wondering about my knowledge of English.
Mrs Clapperton said: "John won't play bridge." Is not "can't
play" the usual term?'

'She takes it as a personal insult that he doesn't, I suppose,'
said Ellie drily. 'The man was a fool ever to have married her.'

In the darkness Poirot smiled. 'You don't think it's just possible

that the marriage may be a success?' he asked diffidently.

'With a woman like that?'

Poirot shrugged his shoulders. 'Many odious women have
devoted husbands. An enigma of nature. You will admit that
nothing she says or does appears to gall him.' Miss Henderson
was considering her reply when Mrs Clapperton's voice floated
out through the smoking-room window.

'No - I don't think I will play another rubber. So stuffy. I think
I'll go up and get some air on the boat deck.'

'Good night,' said Miss Hendersom 'I'm going to bed.' She
disappeared abruptly.

Poirot strolled forward to the lounge - deserted save for Colonel
Clapperton and the two girls. He was doing card tricks for them
and noting the dexterity of his shuffling and handling of the cards,
Poirot remembered the General's story of a career on the music
hall stage.

'I see you enjoy the cards even though you do not play bridge,'
he remarked.


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'I've my reasons for not playing bridge,' said Clapperton, his

charming smile breaking out. 'I'll show you. We'll play one hand.'
He dealt the cards rapidly. 'Pick up your hands. Well, what
about it?' He laughed at the bewildered expression on Kitty's face.
He laid down his hand and the others followed suit. Kitty held
the entire club suit, M. Poirot the hearts, Pam the diamonds and
Colonel Clapperton the spades.

'You see?' he said. 'A man who can deal his partner and his
adversaries any hand he pleases had better stand aloof from a
friendly gamet If the luck goes too much his way, ill-natured things
might be said.'

'Ohl' gasped Kitty. 'How could you do that? It all looked
perfectly ordinary.'

'The quickness of the hand deceives the eye,' said Poirot
sententiously - and caught the sudden change in the Colonel's
expression.

It was as though he realized that he had been off his guard for
a moment or two.

Poirot smiled. The conjuror had shown himself through the
mask of the pukka sahib.


The ship reached Alexandria at dawn the following morning.

As Poirot came up from breakfast he found the two girls all
ready to go on shore. They were talking to Colonel Clapperton.

'We ought to get off now,' urged Kitty. 'The passport people
will be going off the ship presently. You'll come with us, won't
you? You wouldn't let us go ashore all by ourselves? Awful things
might happen to us.'

'I certainly don't think you ought to go by yourselves, said
Clapperton, smiling. 'But I'm not sure my wife feels up to it.'

'That's too bad,' said Pam. 'But she can have a nice long rest.'

Colonel Clapperton looked a little irresolute. Evidently the

desire to play truant was strong upon him. He noticed Poirot.
'Hullo, M. Poirot - you going ashore?'
'No, I think not,' M. Poirot replied.

'I'll - I'll -just have a word with Adeline,' decided Colonel
Clapperton.


22O


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'We'll come with you,' said Pam. She flashed a wink at Poirot.
'Perhaps we can persuade her to come too,' she added gravely.

Colonel Clapperton seemed to welcome this suggestion. He
looked decidedly relieved.

'Come along then, the pair of you,' he said lightly. They all
three went along the passage of B deck together.

Poirot, whose cabin was just opposite the Clappertons, followed
them out of curiosity.

Colonel Clapperton rapped a little nervously at the cabin door.
'Adeline, my dear, are you up?'

The sleepy voice of Mrs Clapperton from within replied: 'Oh,
bother - what is it?'

'It's John. What about going ashore?'

'Certainly not.' The voice was shrill and decisive. 'I've had a
very bad night. I shall stay in bed most of the day.'

Pam nipped in quickly. 'Oh, Mrs Clapperton, I'm so sorry. We
did so want you to come with us. Are you sure you're not up to it?'

'I'm quite certain. Mrs Clapperton's voice sounded even
shriller.

The Colonel was turning the door-handle without result.

'What is it, John? The door's locked. I don't want to be dis-turbed
by the stewards.'

'Sorry, my dear, sorry. Just wanted my Baedeker.'

'Well, you can't have it,' snapped Mrs Clapperton. 'I'm not
going to get out of bed. Do go away, John, and let me have a little
peace.'

'Certainly, certainly, my dear.' The Colonel backed away from
the door. Pam and Kitty closed in on him.

'Let's start at once. Thank goodness your hat's on your head.
Oh, gracious - your passport isn't in the cabin, is it?'

'As a matter of fact it's in my pocket - ' began the Colonel.

Kitty squeezed his arm. 'Glory be!' she exclaimed. 'Now,
come on.'

Leaning over the rail, Poirot watched the three of them leave
the ship. He heard a faint intake of breath beside him and turned
to see Miss Henderson. Her eyes were fastened on the three
retreating figures.


221


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'So they've gone ashore,' she said flatly.
'Yes. Are you going?'
She had a shade hat, he noticed, and a smart bag and shoes.
There was a shore-going appearance about her. Nevertheless,
after the most infinitesimal of pauses, she shook her head.
'No,' she said. 'I think I'll stay on board. I have a lot of letters
to write.'
She turned and left him.
Puffing after his morning tour of forty-eight rounds of the deck,
General Forbes took her place. 'Aha? he exclaimed as his eyes
noted the retreating figures of the Colonel and the two girls. 'So that's the game! Where's the Madam?'
Poirot explained that Mrs Clapperton was having a quiet day
in bed.
'Don't you believe it!' the old warrior closed one knowing eye.
'She'll be up for tiffin - and if the poor devil's found to be absent
without leave, there'll be ructions.'
But the General's prognostications were not fulfilled. Mrs
Clapperton did not appear at lunch and by the time the Colonel
and his attendant damsels returned to the ship at four o'clock, she
had not shown herself.
Poirot was in his cabin and heard the husband's slightly guilty
knock on his cabin door. Heard the knock repeated, the cabin
door tried, and finally heard the Colonel's call to a steward.
'Look here, I can't get an answer. Have you a key?'
Poirot rose quickly from his bunk and came out into the passage.

The news went like wildfire round the ship. With horrified
incredulity people heard that Mrs Clapperton had been found dead
in her bunk - a native dagger driven through her heart. A string
of amber beads was found on the floor of her cabin.
Rumour succeeded rumour. All bead sellers who had been
allowed on board that day were being rounded up and questionedl
A large sum in cash had disappeared from a drawer in the cabinl
The notes had been tracedl They had not been tracedl Jewellery
worth a fortune had been takenl No jewellery had been taken at
alll A steward had been arrested and had confessed to the murderl

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'What is the truth of it all?' demanded Miss Ellie Henderson

waylaying Poirot. Her face was pale and troubled.

'My dear lady, how should I know?'

'Of course you know,' said Miss Henderson.

It was late in the evening. Most people had retired to their
cabins. Miss Henderson led Poirot to a couple of deck chairs on
the sheltered side of the ship. 'Now tell me,' she commanded.

Poirot surveyed her thoughtfully. 'It's an interesting case,' he
said.

'Is it true that she had some very valuabte jewellry stolen?'
Poirot shook his head. 'No. No jewellery was taken. A small
amount of loose cash that was in a drawer has disappeared,
though.'

'I'll never feel safe on a ship again,' said Miss Henderson with
a shiver. 'Any clue as to which of those coffee-coloured brutes
did it?'

'No,' said Hercule Poirot. 'The whole thing is rather - strange.'
'What do you mean?' asked Ellie sharply.

Poirot spread out his hands. 'Eh bien - take the facts. Mrs
Clapperton had been dead at least five hour when she was found.
Some money had disappeared. A string of beads was on the floor
by her bed. The door was locked and the key was missing. The
window - 0indo, not port-hole - gives on the deck and was open.'
'Well?' asked the woman impatiently.

'Do you not think it is curious for a murder to be committed
under those particular circumstances? Remember that the postcard
sellers, money changers and bead sellers who are allowed on board
are all well known to the police.'

'The stewards usually lock your cabin, all the same,' Ellie
pointed out.

'Yes, to prevent any chance of petty pilfering. But this - was
murder.'

'What exactly are you thinking of, M. Poirot?' Her voice sounded
a little breathless.

'I am thinking of the locked door.'

Miss Henderson considered this. 'I don't see anything in that.
The man left by the door, locked it and took the key with him so


223


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


aa to avoid having the murder discovered too soon. Quite intelli-gent
of him, for it wasn't discovered until four o'clock in the
afternoon.'

'No, no, mademoiselle, you don't appreciate the point I'm
trying to make. I'm not worried as to how he got out, but as to
how he got in.'

'The window of course.'

'C'est possible. But it would be a very narrow fit - and there

were people passing up and down the deck all the time, remember.'
'Then through the door,' said Miss Henderson impatiently.
'But you forget, mademoiselle. Mrs Clapperton had loehed the
door on the ira/de. She had done so before Colonel Clapperton
left the boat this morning. He actually tried it - so we knoro that
is ao.'

'Nonsense. It probably stuck - or he didn't turn the handle
properly.'

'But it does not rest on his word. We actually heard Mrs

Clapperton herself say so.'

'We?'

'Miss Mooney, Miss Cregan, Colonel Clapperton and myself.'
Ellie Henderson tapped a neatly shod foot. She did not speak
for a moment or two. Then she said in a slightly irritable tone:
'Well - what exactly do you deduce from that? If Mrs Clapperton
could lock the door she could unlock it too, I suppose.'

'Precisely, precisely.' Poirot turned a beaming face upon her.
'And you see where that leads us. Mrs Clapperton unlocked the
door and let the murderer in. Now would she be likely to do that
for a bead seller?'

Ellie objected: 'She might not have known who it was. He may
have knocked - she got up and opened the door - and he forced
his way in and killed her.'

Poirot shook his head. '.4u contraire. She was lying peacefully
in bed when she was stabbed.'

Miss Henderson stared at him. 'What's your idea?' she asked
abruptly.

Poirot smiled. 'Well, it looks, does it not, as though she knew
the person she admitted...'


224


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'You mean,' said Miss Henderson and her voice sounded a little
harsh, 'that the murderer is a passenger on the ship?'
Poirot nodded. 'It seems indicated.'
'And the string of beads left on the floor was a blind?'
'Precisely.'
'The theft of the money also?'
'Exactly.'
There was a pause, then Miss Henderson said slowly: 'I thought
Mrs Clapperton a very unpleasant woman and I don't think anyone
on board really liked her - but there wasn't anyone who had any
reason to kill her.'
'Except her husband, perhaps,' said Poirot.
'You don't really think - ' She stopped.
'It is the opinion of every person on this ship that Colonel
Clapperton would have been quite justified in "taking a hatchet
to her". That was, I think, the expression used.'
Ellie Henderson looked at him - waiting.
'But I am bound to say,' went on Poirot, 'that I myself have not
noted any signs of exasperation on the good Colonel's part. Also,
what is more important, he had an alibi. He was with those two
girls all day and did not return to the ship till four o'clock. By
then, Mrs Clapperton had been dead many hours.'
There was another minute of silence. Ellie Henderson said
softly: 'But you still think - a passenger on the ship?'
Poirot bowed his head.
Ellie Henderson laughed suddenly - a reckless defiant laugh.
'Your theory may be difficult to prove, M. Poirot. There are a
good many passengers on this ship.'
Poirot bowed to her. 'I will use a phrase from one of your
detective story writers. "I have my methods, Watson." '

The following evening, at dinner, every passenger found a typewritten
slip by his plate requesting him to be in the main loung
at 8.30. When the company were assembled, the Captain stepped
on to the raised platform where the orchestra usually played and
addressed them.
'Ladies and gentlemen, you all know of the tragedy which took

225


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


place yesterday. I am sure you all wish to co-operate in bringing
the perpetrator of that foul crime to justice.' He paused and
cleared his throat. 'We have on board with us M. Hercule Poirot
who is probably known to you all as a man who has had wide
experience in - er - such matters. I hope you will listen carefully
to what he has to say.'

It was at this minute that Colonel Clapperton, who had not
been at dinner, came in and sat down next to General Forbes. He
looked like a man bewildered by sorrow - not at all like a man
conscious of great relief. Either he was a very good actor or else he
had been genuinely fond of his disagreeable wife.

'M. Hercule Poirot,' said the Captain and stepped down. Poirot
took his place. He looked comically serf-important as he beamed
on his audience.

'Messieurs, mesdames,' he began. 'It is most kind of you to be so
indulgent as to listen to me. M. le Cataine has told you that I
have had a certain experience in these matters. I have, it is true, a
littie idea of my own about how to get to the bottom of this
particular case.' He made a sign and a steward pushed forward
and passed on to him a bulky, shapeless object wrapped in a sheet.

'What I am about to do may surprise you a little,' Poirot warned
them. 'It may occur to you that I am eccentric, perhaps mad.
Nevertheless I assure you that behind my madness there is - as
you English say - a method.'

His eyes met those of Miss Henderson for just a minute. He
began unwrapping the bulky object.

'I have here, mesdeurs and mesdames, an important witness to
the truth of who killed Mrs Clapperton.' With a deft hand he
whisked away the last enveloping cloth, and the object it concealed
was revealed - an almost life-sized wooden doll, dressed in a velvet
suit and lace collar.

'Now, Arthur,' said Poirot and his voice changed subtly - it
was no longer foreign - it had instead a confident English, a
slightly Cockney inflection. 'Can you tell me - I repeat - can you
tell me - anything at all about the death of Mrs Clapperton?'

The doll's neck oscillated a little, its wooden lower jaw dropped
and wavered and a shrill high-pitched woman's voice spoke:


226


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'What is it, John? The door's locked. I don't want to be disturbed
by the stewards...'
There was a cry - an overturned chair - a man stood swaying,
his hand to his throat - trying to speak - trying... Then suddenly,
his figure seemed to crumple up. He pitched headlong.
It was Colonel Clapperton.

Poirot and the ship's doctor rose from their knees by the prostrate
figure.
'All over, I'm afraid. Heart,' said the doctor briefly.
Poirot nodded. 'The shock of having his trick seen through,' he
said.
He turned to General Forbes. 'It was you, General, who gave
me a valuable hint with your mention of the music hall stage. I
puzzle - I think - and then it comes to me. Supposing that before
the war Clapperton was a ventriloquist. In that case, it would be
perfectly possible for three people to hear Mrs Clapperton speak
from inside her cabin when she was already dead...'
Ellie Henderson was beside him. Her eyes were dark and full
of pain. 'Did you know his heart was weak?' she asked.
'I guessed it... Mrs Clapperton talked of her own heart being
affected, but she struck me as the type of woman who likes to be
thought ill. Then I picked up a torn prescription with a very
strong dose of digitalin in it. Digitalin is a heart medicine but it
couldn't be Mrs Clapperton's because digitalin dilates the pupils
of the eyes. I had never noticed such a phenomenon with her but
when I looked at his eyes I saw the signs at once.'
Ellie murmured: 'So you thought - it might end - this way?'
'The best way, don't you think, mademoiselle?' he said gently.
He saw the tears rise in her eys. She said: 'You've known. You've
known all along... That I cared... But he didn't do it for me... It was those girls - youth - it made him feel his slavery. He wanted
to be free before it was too late... Yes, I'm sure that's how it was
·.. When did you guess - that it was he?'
'His self-control was too perfect,' said Poirot simply. 'No matter
how galling his wife's conduct, it never seemed to touch him.
That meant either that he was so used to it that it no longer stung

227


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


him, or else - eh b/eh - I decided on the latter alternative... And
I was right...

'And then there was his insistence on his conjuring ability - the
evening before the crime he pretended to give himself away. But
a man like Clapperton doesn't give himself away. There must be
a reason. So long as people thought he had been a conjuror they

weren't likely to think of his having been a ventriloquist.'

'And the voice we heard - Mrs Clapperton's voice?'

'One of the stewardesses had a voice not unlike hers. I induced

her to hide behind the stage and taught her the words to say.'
'It was a trick - a cruel trick,' cried out Ellie.

'I do not approve of murder,' said-Hercule Poirot.


228


CHAPTER XVIII

HOW DOES YOUR GARDEN GROW?

Hercule Poirot arranged his letters in a neat pile in front of him.
He picked up the topmost letter, studied the address for a moment,
then neatly slit the back of the envelope with a little paperknife
that he kept on the breakfast table for that express purpose and
extracted the contents. Inside was yet another envelope, carefully
sealed with purple wax and marked 'Private and Confidential'.
Hercule Poirot's eyebrows rose a little on his egg-shaped head.
He murmured, 'Patience! Nous allons arriver!' and once more
brought the little paper-knife into play. This time the envelope
yielded a letter - written in a rather shaky and spiky handwriting.
Several words were heavily underlined.
Hercule Poirot unfolded it and read. The letter was headed once
again 'Private and Confidential'. On the right-hand side was the
address - Rosebank, Charman's Green, Bucks - and the date-March
twenty-first.

Dear M. Poirot,
I have been recommended to you by an old and valued
friend of mine who knows the worry and distress I have been in
lately. Not that this friend knows the actual circumstances those I have kept entirely to myself- the matter being strictly
private. My friend assures me that you are discretion itself and
that there will be no fear of my being involved in a police matter which, if my suspicions should prove correct, I should very much dislike. But it is of course possible that I am entirely mistaken. I do not feel myself clear-headed enough nowadays suffering
as I do from insomnia and the result of a severe illness
last winter - to investigate things for myself. I have neither the
means nor the ability. On the other hand, I must reiterate once
more that this is a very delicate family matter and that for
many reasons I may want the whole thing hushed up. If I am

229


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


once assured of the facts, I can deal with the matter myself and
should prefer to do so. I hope that I have made myself clear on
this point. If you will undertake this investigation, perhaps you
will let me know to the above address?

Yours very truly,

AMELIA BARROWBY


Poirot read the letter through twice. Again his eyebrows rose
slightly. Then he placed it on one side and proceeded to the next
envelope in the pile.

At ten o'clock precisely he entered the room where Miss Lemon,
his confidential secretary, sat awaiting her instructions for the day.
Miss Lemon was forty-eight and of unprepossessing appearance.
Her general effect was that of a lot of bones flung together at
random. She had a passion for order almost equalling that of
Poirot himself; and though capable of thinking, she never thought
unless told to do so.

Poirot handed her the morning correspondence. 'Have the
goodness, mademoiselle, to write refusals couched in correct
terms to all of these.'

Miss Lemon ran an eye over the various letters, scribbling in
turn a hieroglyphic on each of them. These marks were legible
to her alone and were in a code of her own: 'Soft soap'; 'slap in the
face'; 'purr purr'; 'curt'; and so on. Having done this, she nodded
and looked up for further instructions.

Poirot handed her Amelia Barrowby's letter. She extracted it
from its double envelope, read it through and looked up inquiringly.

'Yes, M. Poirot?' Her pencil hovered - ready - over her short-hand
pad.

'What is your opinion of that letter, Miss Lemon?'

With a slight frown Miss Lemon put down the pencil and read
through the letter again.

The contents of a letter meant nothing to Miss Lemon except
from the point of view of composing an adequate reply. Very
occasionally her employer appealed to her human, as opposed to
her official, capacities. It slightly annoyed Miss Lemon when he
did so - she was very nearly the perfect machine, completely and


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

gloriously uninterested in all human affairs. Her real passion in
life was the perfection of a filing system beside which all other
filing systems should sink into oblivion. She dreamed of such a
system at night. Nevertheless, Miss Lemon was perfectly capable
of intelligence on purely human matters, as Hercule Poirot well
knew.
'Well?' he demanded.
'Old lady,' said Miss Lemon. 'Got the wind up pretty badly.'
'Ah! The wind rises in her, you think?'
Miss Lemon, who considered that Poirot had been long enough
in Great Britain to understand its slang terms, did not reply. She
took a brief look at the double envelope.
'Very hush-hush,' she said. 'And tells you nothing at all.'
'Yes,' said Hercule Poirot. 'I observed that.'
Miss Lemon's hand hung once more hopefully over the shorthand
pad. This time Hercule Poirot responded.
'Tell her I will do myself the honour to call upon her at any
time she suggests, unless she prefers to consult me here. Do not
type the letter - write it by hand.'
'Yes, M. Poirot.'
Poirot produced more correspondence. 'These are bills.'
Miss Lemon's efficient hands sorted them quickly. 'I'll pay all
but these two.'
'Why those two? There is no error in them.'
'They are firms you've only just begun to deal with. It looks
bad to pay too promptly when you've just opened an account looks
as though you were working up to get some credit later on.'
'Ahl' murmured Poirot. 'I bow to your superior knowledge of
the British tradesman.'
'There' nothing much I don't know about them,' said Mis:
Lemon grimly.

The letter to Miss Amelia Barrowby was duly written and sen
but no reply was forthcoming. Perhaps, thought Hercule Poin
the old lady had unravelled her mystery herself. Yet he felt a sha
of surprise that in that case she should not have written a courteouo
word to say that his services were no longer required.

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

It was five days later when Miss Lemon, after receiving her
morning's instructions, said, 'That Miss Barrowby we wrote to no
wonder there's been no answer. She's dead.'
Hercule Poirot said very softly, 'Ah - dead.' It sounded not so much like a question as an answer.
Opening her handbag, Miss Lemon produced a newspaper
cutting. 'I saw it in the tube and tore it out.'
Just registering in his mind approval of the fact that, though
Miss Lemon used the word 'tore', she had neatly cut the entry out
with scissors, Poirot read the announcement taken from the Births,
Deaths and Marriages in the Morning Post: 'On March 26th suddenly-
at Rosebank, Charman's Green, Amelia Jane Barrowby,
in her seventy-third year. No flowers, by request.'
Poirot read it over. He murmured under his breath, 'Suddenly'.
Then he said briskly, 'If you will be so obliging as to take a letter,
Miss Lemon?'
The pencil hovered. Miss Lemon, her mind dwelling on the
intricacies of the filing system, took down in rapid and correct
shorthand:

Dear Miss Barrowby,
I have received no reply from you, but as I shall be in the
neighbourhood of Charman's Green on Friday, I will call upon
you on that day and discuss more fully the matter mentioned
to me in your letter.
Yours, etc.

'Type this letter, please; and if it is posted at once, it should get
to Charman's Green tonight.'
On the following morning a letter in a black-edged envelope
arrived by the second post:

Dear Sir,
In reply to your letter my aunt, Miss Barrowby, passed away
on the twenty-sixth, so the matter you speak of is no longer of
importance.
Yours truly,
MARY DELAFONTAINR

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

Poirot smiled to himself. 'No longer of importance . . . Ah that
is what we shall see. En avant - to Charman's Green.'
Rosebank was a house that seemed likely to live up to its name,
which is more than can be said for most houses of its class and
character.
Hercule Poirot paused as he walked up the path to the front
door and looked approvingly at the neatly planned beds on either
side of him. Rose trees that promised a good harvest later in the
year, and at present daffodils, early tulips, blue hyacinths - the
last bed was partly edged with shells.
Poirot murmured to himself, 'How does it go, the English rhyme
the children sing?
Mistress Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With cockle-shells, and silver bells,
And pretty maids all in a row.
'Not a row, perhaps,' he considered, 'but here is at least one
pretty maid to make the little rhyme come right.'
The front door had opened and a neat little maid in cap and
apron was looking somewhat dubiously at the spectacle of a
heavily moustached foreign gentleman talking aloud to himself in
the front garden. She was, as Poirot had noted, a very pretty little
maid, with round blue eyes and rosy cheeks.
Poirot raised his hat with courtesy and addressed her: 'Pardon,
but does a Miss Amelia Barrowby live here?'
The little maid gasped and her eyes grew rounder. 'Oh, sir,
didn't you know? She's dead. Ever so sudden it was. Tuesday
night.'
She hesitated, divided between two strong instincts: the first,
distrust of a foreigner; the second, the pleasurable enjoyment of
her class in dwelling on the subject of illness and death.
'You amaze me,' said Hercule Poirot, not very truthfully. 'I
had an appointment with the lady for today. However, I can
perhaps see the other lady who lives here.'
The little maid seemed slightly doubtful. 'The mistress? Well,
you could see her, perhaps, but I don't know whether she'll b
eeing anyone or not.'

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


'She will see me,' said Poirot, and handed her a card.

The authority of his tone had its effect. The rosy-cheeked maid
fell back and ushered Poirot into a sitting-room on the right of
the hall. Then, card in hand, she departed to summon her mistress.

Hercule Poirot looked round him. The room was a perfectly
conventional, drawing-room - oatmeal-coloured paper with a
frieze round the top, indeterminate cretonnes, rose-coloured
cushions and curtains, a good many china knick-knacks and
ornaments. There was nothing in the room that stood out, that
announced a definite personality.

Suddenly Poirot, who was very sensitive, felt eyes watching
him. He wheeled round. A girl was standing in the entrance of the
french window - a small, sallow girl, with very black hair and
suspicious eyes.

She came in, and as Poirot made a little bow she burst out
abruptly, 'Why have you come?'

Poirot did not reply. He merely raised his eyebrows.

'You are not a lawyer - no?' Her English was good, but not for

a minute would anyone have taken her to be English.

'Why should I be a lawyer, mademoiselle?'

The girl stared at him sul .nly. 'I thought you might be. I
thought you had come perha? ;o say that she did not know what
she was doing. I have heard of such things - the not due influence;
that is what they call it, no? But that is not right. She wanted me
to have the money, and I shall have it. If it is needful I shall have
a lawyer of my own. The money is mine. She wrote it down so,
and so it shall be.' She looked ugly, her chin thrust out, her eyes
gleaming.

The door opened and a tail woman entered and said, 'Katrina'.

The girl shrank, flushed, muttered something and went out
through the window.

Poirot turned to face the newcomer who had so effectually dealt
with the situation by uttering a single word. There had been
authority in her voice, and contempt and a shade of well-bred
irony. He realized at once that this was the owner of the house,
Mary Delafontaine.

'M. Poirot? I wrote to you. You cannot have received my letter.'


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'Alas, I have been away from London.'
'Oh, I see; that explains it. I must introduce myself. My name
is Delafontaine. This is my husband. Miss Barrowby was my aunt.'
Mr Delafontaine had entered so quietly that his arrival had
passed unnoticed. He was a tall man with grizzled hair and an
indeterminate manner. He had a nervous way of fingering his
chin. He looked often towards his wife, and it was plain that he
expected her to take the lead in any conversation.
'I much regret that I intrude in the midst of your bereavement,'
said Hercule Poirot.
'I quite realize that it is not your fault,' said Mrs Delafontaine.
'My aunt died or Tuesday evening. It was quite unexpected.'
'Most unexpected,' said Mr Delafontaine. 'Great blow.' His
eyes watched the window where the foreign girl had disappeared.
'I apologize,' said Hercule Poirot. 'And I withdraw.' He moved
a step towards the door.
'Half a sec,' said Mr Delafontaine. 'You - er - had an appointment
with Aunt Amelia, you say?'
'Parfa(tement.'
'Perhaps you will tell us about it,' said his wife. 'If there i*
anything we can do - '
'It was of a private nature,' said Poirot. 'I am a detective,' he
added simply.
Mr Delafontaine knocked over a little china figure he was
handling. His wife looked puzzled.
'A detective? And you had an appointment with Auntie? But
how extraordinary? She stared at him. 'Can't you tell us a little
more, M. Poirot? It - it seems quite fantastic.'
Poirot was silent for a moment. He chose his words with care.
'It is difficult for..me, madame, to know what to do.'
'Look here,' said Mr Delafontaine. '8he didn't mention
Russians, did she?'
'Russians?'
'Yes, you know - Bolshies, Reds, all that sort of thing.'
'Don't be absurd, Henry,' said his wife.
Mr Delafontaine collapsed. 'Sorry - sorry - I just wondered.'
Mary Delafontaine looked frankly at Poirot. Her eyes were very

235


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blue - the colour of forget-me-nots. 'If you can tell us anything,
M. Poirot, I should be glad if you would do so. I can assure you
that I have a - a reason for asking.'

Mr Delafontaine looked alarmed. 'Be careful, old girl - you
know there may be nothing in it.'

Again his wife quelled him with a glance. 'Well, M. Poirot?'
Slowly, gravely, Hercule Poirot shook his head. He shook it
with visible regret, but he shook it. 'At present, madame,' he said,
'I fear I must say nothing.'

He bowed, picked up his hat and moved to the door. Mary
Delafontaine came with him into the hall. On the doorstep he
paused and looked at her.

'You are fond of your garden, I think, madame?'
'I? Yes, I spend a lot of time gardening.'
'Je ous fait roes compliments.'

He bowed once more and strode down to the gate. As he
passed out of it and turned to the right he glanced back and
registered two impressions - a sallow face watching him from a
first-floor window, and a man of erect and soldierly carriage
pacing up and down on the opposite side of the street.

Hercule Poirot nodded to himself. 'Definitivement,' he said.
'There is a mouse in this hole! What move must the cat make
now?'

His decision took him to the nearest post office. Here he put
through a couple of telephone calls. The result seemed to be
satisfactory. He bent his steps to Charman's Green police station,
where he inquired for Inspector Sims.

Inspector Sims was a big, burly man with a hearty manner.
'M. Poirot?' he inquired. 'I thought so. I've just this minute had a
telephone call through from the chief constable about you. tie
aid you'd be dropping in. Come into my office.'

The door shut, the inspector waved Poirot to one chair, settled
himself in another, and turned a gaze of acute inquiry upon his
visitor.

'You're very quick on to the mark, M. Poirot. Come to see us
about this Rosebank case almost before we know it is a case. What
put you on to it?'


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Poirot drew out the letter he had received and handed it to the
inspector. The latter read it with some interest.
'Interesting,' he said. 'The trouble is, it might mean so many
things. Pity she couldn't have been a little more explicit. It would
have helped us now.'
'Or there might have been no need for help.'
'You mean?'
'She might have been alive.'
'You go as far as that, do you? H'm - I'm not sure you're
wrong.'
'I pray of you, Inspector, recount to me the facts. I know
nothing at all.'
'That's easily done. Old lady was taken bad after dinner on
Tuesday night. Very alarming. Convulsions - spasms - whatnot.
They sent for the doctor. By the time he arrived she was dead.
Idea was she'd died of a fit. Well, he didn't much like the look
of things. He hemmed and hawed and put it with a bit of Soft
awder, but he made it clear that he couldn't give a death certificate.
And as far as the family go, that's where the matter
stands. They're awaiting the result of the post-mortem. We've
got a bit further. The doctor gave us the tip right away - he and
the police surgeon did the autopsy together - and the result is in
no doubt whatever. The old lady died of a large dose of strychnine.'
'Aha?
'That's right. Very nasty bit of work. Point is, who gave it to
her? It must have been administered very shortly before death.
First idea was it was given to her in her food at dinner - but,
frankly, that seems to be a washout. They had artichoke soup,
served from a tureen, fish pie and apple tart.'
'Miss Barrowby, Mr Delafontaine and Mrs Delafontaine. Miss
Barrowby had a kind of nurse-attendant - a half-Russian girl but
she didn't eat with the family. She had the remains as they
came out from the dining-room. There's a maid, but it was her
night out. She left the soup on the stove and the fish pie in the
oven, and the apple tart was cold. All three of them ate the same
thing- and, apart from that, I don't think you could get strychnine
down anyone's throat that way. Stuff's as bitter as gall. The doctor

237


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

told me you could taste it in a solution of one in a thousand, or
something like that.'
'Coffee?'
'Coffee's more like it, but the old lady never took coffee.'
'I see your point. Yes, it seems an insuperable difficulty. What
did she drink at the meal?'
'Water.'
'Worse and worse.'
'Bit of a teaser, isn't it?'
'She had money, the old lady?'
'Very well to do, I imagine. Of course, we haven't got exact
details yet. The Delafontaines are pretty badly off, from what I
can make out. The old lady helped with the upkeep of the house.'
Poirot smiled a little. He said, 'So you suspect the Delafontaines.
Which of them?'
'I don't exactly say I suspect either of them in particular. But
there it is; they're her only near relations, and her death brings
them a tidy sum of money, I've no doubt. We all know what
human nature is!'
'Sometimes inhuman - yes, that is very true. And there was
nothing else the old lady ate or drank?'
'Well, as a matter of fact - '
'Ah, voild! I felt that you had something, as you say, up your
sleeve - the soup, the fish pie, the apple tart - a bgtise! Now we
come to the hub of the affair.'
'I don't know about that. But as a matter of fact, the old girl
took a cachet before meals. You know, not a pill or a tablet; one
of those rice-paper things with a powder inside. Some perfectly
harmless thing for the digestion.'
'Admirable. Nothing is easier than to fill a cachet with strychnine
and substitute it for one of the others. It slips down the throat
with a drink of water and is not tasted.'
'That's all right. The trouble is, the girl gave it to her.'
'The Russian girl?'
'Yes. Katrina Rieger. She was a kind of lady-help, nurse-companion
to Miss Barrowby. Fairly ordered about by her, too,
I gather. Fetch this, fetch that, fetch the other, rub my back, pour

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out my medicine, run round to the chemist - all that sort of busi-ness.
You know how it is with these old women - they mean to be

kind, but what they need is a sort of black slave?

Poirot smiled.

'And there you are, you see,' continued Inspector Sims. 'It
doesn't fit in what you might call nicely. Why should the girl
poison her? Miss Barrowby dies and now the girl will be out of a
job, and jobs aren't so easy to find - she's not trained or anything.'

'Still,' suggested Poirot, 'if the box of cachets was left about,
anyone in the house might have the opportunity.'

'Naturally we're on to that, M. Poirot. I don't mind telling you
we're making our inquiries - quiet like, if you understand me.
When the prescription was last made up, where it was usually
kept; patience and a lot of spade work - that's what will do the
trick in the end. And then there's Miss Barrowby's solicitor. I'm
having an interview with him tomorrow. And the bank manager.
There's a lot to be done still.'

Poirot rose. 'A little favour, Inspector Sims; you will send me
a little word how the affair marches. I would esteem it a great
favour. Here is my telephone number.'

'Why, certainly, M. Poirot. Two heads are better than one; and,
besides, you ought to be in on this, having had that letter andall.'

'You are too amiable, Inspector.' Politely, Poirot shook hands
and took his leave.


He was called to the telephone on the following afternoon. 'Is that
M. Poirot? Inspector Sims here. Things are beginning to sit up

and look pretty in that little matter you and I know of.'

'In verity? Tell me, I pray of you.'

'Well, here's item No. x - and a pretty big item. Miss B. left a
small legacy to her niece and everything else to K. In consideration
of her great kindness and attention - that's the way it was put.
That alters the complexion of things.'

A picture rose swiftly in Poirot's mind. A sullen face and a
passionate voice saying, 'The money is mine. She wrote it down
and so it shall be.' The legacy would not come as a surprise to
Katrina - she knew about it beforehand.


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POIROT'S EARLY CASES

'Item No. 2,' continued the voice of Inspector Sims. 'Nobody
but K. handled that cachet.'
'You can be sure of that?'
'The girl herself doesn't deny it. What do you think of that?'
'Extremely interesting.'
'We only want one thing more - evidence of how the strychnine
came into her possession. That oughtn't to be difficult.'
'But $o far you haven't been successful?'
'I've barely started. The inquest was only this morning.'
'What happened at it?'
'Adjourned for a week.'
'And the young lady - K.?'
'I'm detaining her on suspicion. Don't want to run any risks.
8he might have some funny friends in the country who'd try to
get her out of it.'
'No,' said Poirot. 'I do not think she has any friends.'
'Really? What makes you say that, M. Poirot?'
'It is just an idea of mine. There were no other "items", as you
call them?'
'Nothing that's strictly relevant. Misa B. seems to have been
monkeying about a bit with her shares lately - must have dropped
quite a tidy sum. It's rather a funny business, one way and
another, but I don't see how it affects the main issue - not at
present, that is.'
'No, perhaps you are right. Well, my best thanks to you. It wire
most amiable of you to ring me up.'
'Not at all. I'm a man of my word. I could see you were interested.
Who knows, you may be able to give me a helping hand before
the end.'
'That would give me great pleasure. It might help you, for
inatance, if I could lay my hand on a friend of the girl Katrina.'
'I thought you said she hadn't got any friends?' said Inspector
8ires, surprised.
'I was wrong,' said Hercule Poirot. 'She has one.'
Before the inspector could ask a further question, Poirot had
rung off.
With a serious face he wandered into the room where Mi

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POIROT'S EARLY CASES


Lemon sat at her typewriter. She raised her hands from the keys
at her employer's approach and looked at him inquiringly.

'I want you,' said Poirot, 'to figure to yourself a little history.'
Miss Lemon dropped her hands into her lap in a resigned
manner. She enjoyed typing, paying bills, filing papers and enter-ing
up engagements. To be asked to imagine herself in hypo-thetical
situations bored her very much, but she accepted it as a
disagreeable part of a duty.

'You are a Russian girl,' began Poirot.

'Yes,' said Miss Lemon, looking intensely British.

'You are alone and friendless in this country. You have reasons
for not wishing to return to Russia. You are employed as a kind
of drudge, nurse-attendant and companion to an old lady. You
are meek and uncomplaining.'

'Yes,' said Miss Lemon obediently, but entirely failing to see
herself being meek to any old lady under the sun.

'The old lady takes a fancy to you. She decides to leave her

money to you. She tells you so.' Poirot paused.

Miss Lemon said 'Yes' again.

'And then the old lady finds out something; perhaps it is a
matter of money - she may find that you have not been honest
with her. Or it might be more grave still - a medicine that tasted
different, some food that disagreed. Anyway, she begins to suspect
you of something and she writes to a very famous detective -
enfin, to the most famous detective - mel I am to call upon her
shortly. And then, as you say, the dripping will be in the fire.
The great thing is to act quickly. And so - before the great detec-tive
arrives - the old lady is dead. And the money comes to you...
Tell me, does that seem to you reasonable?'

'Quite reasonable,' said Miss Lemon. 'Quite reasonable for a
Russian, that is. Personally, I should never take a post as a com-panion.
I like my duties clearly defined. And of course I should not
dream of murdering anyone.'

Poirot sighed. 'How I miss my friend Hastings. He had such
an imagination. Such a romantic mindl It is true that he always
imagined wrong - but that in itself was a guide.'

Miss Lemon was silent. She had heard about Captain Hastings


241


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

before, and was not interested. She looked longingly at the typewritten
sheet in front of her.
'So it seems to you reasonable,' mused Poirot.
'Doesn't it to you?'
'I am almost afraid it does,' sighed Poirot.
The telephone rang and Miss Lemon went out of the room to
answer it. She came back to say 'It's Inspector Sims again.'
Poirot hurried to the instrument. ' '/kilo, 'allo. What is that you
say?'
Sims repeated his statement. 'We've found a packet of strychnine
in the girl's bedroom - tucked underneath the mattress. The
sergeant's just come in with the news. That about clinches it, I
think.'
'Yes,' said Poirot, 'I think that clinches it.' His voice had
changed. It rang with sudden confidence.
When he had rung off, he sat down at his writing table and
arranged the objects on it in a mechanical manner. He murmured
to himself, 'There was something wrong. I felt it - no, not felt.
It must have been something I saw. En avant, the little grey cells.
Ponder - reflect. Was everything logical and in order? The girl her
anxiety about the money: Mme Delafontaine; her husband his
suggestion of Russians - imbecile, but he is an imbecile; the
room; the garden - ahl Yes, the garden.'
He sat up very stiff. The green light shone in his eyes. He
sprang up and went into the adjoining room.
'Miss Lemon, will you have the kindness to leave what you are
doing and make an investigation for me?'
'An investigation, M. Poirot? I'm afraid I'm not very good - '
Poirot interrupted her. 'You said one day that you knew all
about tradesmen.'
'Certainly I do,' said Miss Lemon with confidence.
'Then the matter is simple. You are to go to Charman's Green
and you are to discover a fishmonger.'
'A fishmonger?' asked Miss Lemon, surprised.
'Precisely. The fishmonger who supplied Rosebank with fish.
When you have found him you will ask him a certain question.'
He handed her a slip of paper. Miss Lemon took it, noted its

242


POIROT'S EARLY CASES


contents without interest, then nodded and slipped the lid on her
typewriter.

'We will go to Charman's Green together,' said Poirot. 'You go
to the fishmonger and I to the police station. It will take us but
half an hour from Baker Street.'

On arrival at his destination, he was greeted by the surprised
Inspector Sims. 'Well, this is quick work, M. Poirot. I was
talking to you on the phone only an hour ago.'

'I have a request to make to you; that you allow me to see this
girl Katrina - what is her name?'

'Katrina Rieger. Well, I don't suppose there's any objection
to that.'

The girl Katrina looked even more sallow and sullen than ever.
Poirot spoke to her very gently. 'Mademoiselle, I want you to
believe that I am not your enemy. I want you to tell me the
truth.'

Her eyes snapped defiantly. 'I have told the truth. To everyone
I have told the truth! If the old lady was poisoned, it was not I
who poisoned her. It is all a mistake. You wish to prevent me
having the money.' Her voice was rasping. She looked, he thought,
like a miserable little cornered rat.

'Tell me about this cachet, mademoiselle,' M. Poirot went on.
'Did no one handle it but you?'

'I have said so, have I not? They were made up at the chemist's
that afternoon. I brought them back with me in my bag - that
was just before supper. I opened the box and gave Miss Barrowby
one with a glass of water.'

'No one touched them but you?'

"No.' A cornered rat - with couragel

'And Miss Barrowby had for supper only what we have been
told. The soup, the fish pie, the tart?'

'Yes.' A hopeless 'yes' - dark, smouldering eyes that saw no light
anywhere.

Poirot patted her shoulder. 'Be of good courage, mademoiselle.

There may yet be freedom - yes, and money - a life of ease.'
She looked at him suspiciously.

As he went out Sims said to him, 'I didn't quite get what you


243


POIROT'S EARLY CASES

aid through the telephone - something about the girl having a
friend.'
'She has one. Me!' said Hercule Poirot, and had left the police
station before the inspector could pull his wits together.

At the Green Cat tearooms, Miss Lemon did not keep her
employer waiting. She went straight to the point.
'The man's name is Rudge, in the High Street, and you were
quite right. A dozen and a half exactly. I've made a note of what
he said.' She handed it to him.
'Arrr.' It was a deep, rich sound like the purr of a cat.

Hercule ?oirot betook himself to Rosebank. As he stood in the
front garden, the sun setting behind him, Mary Delafontaine
came out to him.
'M. Poirot?' Her voice sounded surprised. 'You have come

back?'
'Yes, I have
first came here,
my head:

come back.' He paused and then said, 'When I
madame, the children's nursery rhyme came into

Mistress Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With cockle-shells, and silver bells,
And pretty maids all in a row.
Only they are not cockle shells, are they, madame? They are oyster shells.' His hand pointed.
He heard her catch her breath and then stay very still. Her eyes
asked a question.
He nodded. 'Mais, oui, I know! The maid left the dinner ready - she will swear and Katrina will swear that that is all you had.
Only you and your husband know that you brought back a dozen
and a half oysters - a little treat pour la bonne tante. So easy to put
the strychnine in an oyster. It is swallowed - cornme fa! But
there remain the shells - they must not go in the bucket. The maid
would see them. And so you thought of making an edging of
them to a bed. But there were not enough - the edging is not
complete. The effect is bad - it spoils the symmetry of the other244



POIROT'S EARLY CASES

wise charming garden. Those few oyster shells struck an alien
note - they displeased my eye on my first visit.'
Mary Delafontaine said, 'I suppose you guessed from the
letter. I knew she had written - but I didn't know how much
she'd said.'
Poirot answered evasively, 'I knew at least that it was a family
matter. If it had been a question of Katrina there would have been
no point in hushing things up. I understand that you or your
husband handled Miss Barrowby's securities to your own profit,
and that she found out - '
Mary Delafontaine nodded. 'We've done it for years - a little
here and there. I never realized she was sharp enough to find out.
And then I learned she had sent for a detective; and I found out,
too, that she was leaving her money to Katrina - that miserable
little creature!'
'And so the strychnine was put in Katrina's bedroom? I comprehend.
You save yourself and your husband from what I may
discover, and you saddle an innocent child with murder. Had you
no pity, madame?'
Mary Delafontaine shrugged her shoulders - her blue forget-me°not
eyes looked into Poirot's. He remembered the perfection
of her acting the first day he had come and the bungling attempts
of her husband. A woman above the average - but inhuman.
She said, 'Pity? For that miserable intriguing little rat?' Her
contempt rang out.
Hercule Poirot said slowly, 'I think, madame, that you have
cared in your life for two things only. One is your husband.'
He saw her lips tremble.
'And the other - is your garden.'
He looked round him. His glance seemed to apologize to the
flowers for that which he had done and was about to do.

245


arly POSTERN OF FATE university and she's gone off now to Africa to do research on how people live - that' sort of thing. A lot of young people are very keen on that. She's a darling - and very happy.' Mr Robinson cleared his throat and rose to his feet. 'I want to propose a toast. To Mr and Mrs Thomas Beresford in acknowledgement of the service they have rendered to their country.' It was drunk enthusiastically. 'And if I may, I will propose a further toast,' said Mr Robinson. 'To Hannibal.' 'There, Hannibal,' said Tuppence, stroking his head. 'You've had your health drunk. Almost as good as being knighted or having a medal. I was reading Stanley Wey-man's Count Hannibal only the other day.' 'Read it as a boy, I remember,' said Mr Robinson. ' "Who touches my brother touches Tavanne," if I've got it right. Pikeaway, don't you think ? Hannibal, may I be permitted to tap you on the shoulder?' Hannibal took a step towards him, received a tap on the shoulder and gently wagged his tail. 'I hereby create you a C]ount of this Realm.' 'Count Hannibal. Isn't that lovely?' said Tuppence. 'What a proud dog you ought to be!'