PoirotInvest igates

AHercule Poirot Collect ion

Contents

Cover

TitlePage

1.TheAdventureof“TheWesternStar”

2.TheTragedyatMarsdonManor

3.TheAdventureoftheCheapFlat

4.TheMysteryofHunter’sLodge

5.TheMillionDollarBondRobbery

6.TheAdventureoftheEgyptianTomb

7.TheJewelRobberyattheGrandMetropolitan

8.TheKidnappedPrimeMinister

9.TheDisappearanceofMr.Davenheim

10.TheAdventureoftheItalianNobleman

11.TheCaseoftheMissingWill

12.TheVeiledLady

13.TheLostMine

14.TheChocolateBox

AbouttheAuthor

OtherWorks

Copyright

One

THE A DVENTUREOF“T HE W ESTERN S TAR”

Iwasstandingat thewindowofPoirot’s rooms lookingout idlyon thestreetbelow.

“That’squeer,”Iejaculatedsuddenlybeneathmybreath.“What is, mon ami?” asked Poirot placidly, from the depths of his

comfortablechair.“Deduce, Poirot, from the following facts! Here is a young lady, richly

dressed—fashionablehat,magnificentfurs.Sheiscomingalongslowly,lookingupat thehousesasshegoes.Unknowntoher,she isbeingshadowedbythreemen and amiddle-agedwoman.Theyhave just been joinedby an errandboywhopointsafter thegirl,gesticulatingashedoesso.Whatdramais thisbeingplayed? Is the girl a crook, and are the shadowsdetectives preparing to arresther? Or are they the scoundrels, and are they plotting to attack an innocentvictim?Whatdoesthegreatdetectivesay?”

“The great detective,mon ami, chooses, as ever, the simplest course. Herisestoseeforhimself.”Andmyfriendjoinedmeatthewindow.

Inaminutehegaveventtoanamusedchuckle.“As usual, your facts are tingedwith your incurable romanticism. This is

MissMaryMarvell, thefilmstar.Sheisbeingfollowedbyabevyofadmirerswhohaverecognizedher.And,enpassant,mydearHastings,sheisquiteawareofthefact!”

Ilaughed.“Soall is explained!Butyougetnomarks for that,Poirot. Itwasamere

matterofrecognition.”

“En vérité! And how many times have you seen Mary Marvell on thescreen,moncher?”

Ithought.“Aboutadozentimesperhaps.”“AndI—once!YetIrecognizeher,andyoudonot.”“Shelookssodifferent,”Irepliedratherfeebly.“Ah!Sacré!”criedPoirot.“Isitthatyouexpecthertopromenadeherselfin

thestreetsofLondoninacowboyhat,orwithbarefeet,andabunchofcurls,asanIrishcolleen?Alwayswithyouitisthenonessentials!Rememberthecaseofthedancer,ValerieSaintclair.”

Ishruggedmyshoulders,slightlyannoyed.“Butconsoleyourself,monami,”saidPoirot,calmingdown.“Allcannotbe

asHerculePoirot!Iknowitwell.”“You really have the best opinion of yourself of anyone I ever knew!” I

cried,dividedbetweenamusementandannoyance.“Whatwillyou?Whenoneisunique,oneknowsit!Andothersshare that

opinion—even,ifImistakeitnot,MissMaryMarvell.”

“What?”“Withoutdoubt.Sheiscominghere.”“Howdoyoumakethatout?”“Very simply. This street, it is not aristocratic,monami! In it there is no

fashionable doctor, no fashionable dentist—still less is there a fashionablemilliner!But there is a fashionable detective.Oui,my friend, it is true—I ambecome themode, thederniercri!One says to another: ‘Comment?Youhavelost your gold pencil case? You must go to the little Belgian. He is toomarvellous!Everyonegoes!Courez!’Andtheyarrive!Inflocks,monami!Withproblemsofthemostfoolish!”Abellrangbelow.“WhatdidItellyou?ThatisMissMarvell.”

Asusual,Poirotwasright.Afterashortinterval,theAmericanfilmstarwas

usheredin,andwerosetoourfeet.MaryMarvell was undoubtedly one of themost popular actresses on the

screen. She had only lately arrived in England in companywith her husband,GregoryB.Rolf,alsoafilmactor.TheirmarriagehadtakenplaceaboutayearagointheStatesandthiswastheirfirstvisittoEngland.Theyhadbeengivenagreat reception. Everyone was prepared to go mad over Mary Marvell, herwonderfulclothes,herfurs,her jewels,aboveallone jewel, thegreatdiamondwhichhadbeennicknamed,tomatchitsowner,“TheWesternStar.”Much,trueanduntrue,hadbeenwrittenaboutthisfamousstonewhichwasreportedtobeinsuredfortheenormoussumoffiftythousandpounds.

AllthesedetailspassedrapidlythroughmymindasIjoinedwithPoirotingreetingourfairclient.

MissMarvellwassmallandslender,veryfairandgirlishlooking,withthewideinnocentblueeyesofachild.

Poirotdrewforwardachairforher,andshecommencedtalkingatonce.“You will probably think me very foolish, Monsieur Poirot, but Lord

Cronshawwastellingmelastnighthowwonderfullyyouclearedupthemysteryofhisnephew’sdeath,andIfeltthatIjustmusthaveyouradvice.Idaresayit’sonlyasillyhoax—Gregorysaysso—butit’sjustworryingmetodeath.”

Shepausedforbreath.Poirotbeamedencouragement.“Proceed,madame.Youcomprehend,Iamstillinthedark.”“It’stheseletters.”MissMarvellunclaspedherhandbag,anddrewoutthree

envelopeswhichshehandedtoPoirot.Thelatterscrutinizedthemclosely.“Cheap paper—the name and address carefully printed. Let us see the

inside.”Hedrewouttheenclosure.Ihadjoinedhim,andwasleaningoverhisshoulder.Thewritingconsisted

ofasinglesentence,carefullyprintedliketheenvelope.Itranasfollows:

“Thegreatdiamondwhichisthelefteyeofthegodmustreturn

whenceitcame.”

The second letterwas couched in precisely the same terms, but the thirdwasmoreexplicit:

“Youhavebeenwarned.Youhavenotobeyed.Nowthediamondwillbetakenfromyou.Atthefullofthemoon,thetwodiamondswhicharetheleftandrighteyeofthegodshallreturn.Soitiswritten.”

“The first letter I treatedas a joke,” explainedMissMarvell. “When Igot thesecond,Ibegantowonder.Thethirdonecameyesterday,anditseemedtomethat,afterall,themattermightbemoreseriousthanIhadimagined.”

“Iseetheydidnotcomebypost,theseletters.”“No;theywereleftbyhand—byaChinaman.Thatiswhatfrightensme.”“Why?”“Because it was from a Chink in San Francisco that Gregory bought the

stonethreeyearsago.”“Isee,madame,thatyoubelievethediamondreferredtotobe—”“ ‘The Western Star,’ ” finished Miss Marvell. “That’s so. At the time,

Gregory remembers that there was some story attached to the stone, but theChinkwasn’thandingoutanyinformation.Gregorysaysheseemedjustscaredtodeath,andinamortalhurrytogetridofthething.Heonlyaskedaboutatenthofitsvalue.ItwasGreg’sweddingpresenttome.”

Poirotnoddedthoughtfully.“The story seems of an almost unbelievable romanticism. And yet—who

knows?Iprayofyou,Hastings,handmemylittlealmanac.”Icomplied.“Voyons!” said Poirot, turning the leaves. “When is the date of the full

moon?Ah,Fridaynext.Thatisinthreedays’time.Ehbien,madame,youseekmyadvice—Igiveittoyou.Thisbellehistoiremaybeahoax—butitmaynot!

Therefore Icounselyou toplace thediamond inmykeepinguntilafterFridaynext.Thenwecantakewhatstepsweplease.”

Aslightcloudpassedovertheactress’sface,andsherepliedconstrainedly:“I’mafraidthat’simpossible.”“Youhaveitwithyou—hein?”Poirotwaswatchinghernarrowly.Thegirl hesitated amoment, then slippedher hand into the bosomof her

gown,drawingoutalongthinchain.Sheleanedforward,unclosingherhand.Inthepalm,astoneofwhitefire,exquisitelysetinplatinum,layandwinkedatussolemnly.

Poirotdrewinhisbreathwithalonghiss.“Épatant!”hemurmured.“Youpermit,madame?”Hetookthejewelinhis

ownhandandscrutinizeditkeenly,thenrestoredittoherwithalittlebow.“Amagnificent stone—without a flaw.Ah,cent tonnerres! and you carry it aboutwithyou,commeça!”

“No,no,I’mverycarefulreally,MonsieurPoirot.Asaruleit’slockedupinmy jewel case, and left in the hotel safe deposit. We’re staying at theMagnificent,youknow.Ijustbroughtitalongtodayforyoutosee.”

“Andyouwillleaveitwithme,n’est-cepas?YouwillbeadvisedbyPapaPoirot?”

“Well,yousee,it’sthisway,MonsieurPoirot.OnFridaywe’regoingdowntoYardlyChasetospendafewdayswithLordandLadyYardly.”

Herwordsawokeavagueechoofremembranceinmymind.Somegossip—whatwasitnow?AfewyearsagoLordandLadyYardlyhadpaidavisittotheStates,rumourhaditthathislordshiphadrathergonethepaceouttherewiththeassistance of some lady friends—but surely there was something more, moregossip which coupled Lady Yardly’s name with that of a “movie” star inCalifornia—why! it came tome in a flash—of course it was none other thanGregoryB.Rolf.

“I’ll let you into a little secret, Monsieur Poirot,” Miss Marvell wascontinuing.“We’vegotadealonwithLordYardly.There’ssomechanceofour

arrangingtofilmaplaydownthereinhisancestralpile.”“AtYardlyChase?”Icried,interested.“Why,it’soneoftheshowplacesof

England.”MissMarvellnodded.“I guess it’s the real old feudal stuff all right. But hewants a pretty stiff

price,andofcourseIdon’tknowyetwhetherthedealwillgothrough,butGregandIalwaysliketocombinebusinesswithpleasure.”

“But—IdemandpardonifIamdense,madame—surelyitispossibletovisitYardlyChasewithouttakingthediamondwithyou?”

A shrewd, hard look came into Miss Marvell’s eyes which belied theirchildlikeappearance.Shelookedsuddenlyagooddealolder.

“Iwanttowearitdownthere.”“Surely,”Isaidsuddenly,“therearesomeveryfamousjewelsintheYardly

collection,alargediamondamongstthem?”“That’sso,”saidMissMarvellbriefly.IheardPoirotmurmurbeneathhisbreath:“Ah,c’estcommeça!”Thenhe

saidaloud,withhisusualuncannyluckinhittingthebull’s-eye(hedignifiesitby the nameof psychology): “Then you arewithout doubt already acquaintedwithLadyYardly,orperhapsyourhusbandis?”

“Gregory knew her when she was out West three years ago,” saidMissMarvell.Shehesitatedamoment,andthenaddedabruptly:“DoeitherofyoueverseeSocietyGossip?”

Webothpleadedguiltyrathershamefacedly.“Iaskbecause in thisweek’snumber there isanarticleonfamous jewels,

andit’sreallyverycurious—”Shebrokeoff.Irose,wenttothetableattheothersideoftheroomandreturnedwiththe

paperinquestioninmyhand.Shetookitfromme,foundthearticle,andbegantoreadaloud:

“...AmongstotherfamousstonesmaybeincludedTheStarofthe

East,adiamondinthepossessionoftheYardlyfamily.AnancestorofthepresentLordYardlybroughtitbackwithhimfromChina,andaromanticstoryissaidtoattachtoit.Accordingtothis,thestonewasoncetherighteyeofatemplegod.Anotherdiamond,exactlysimilarinformandsize,formedthelefteye,andthestorygoesthatthisjewel,too,wouldincourseoftimebestolen.‘OneeyeshallgoWest,theotherEast,tilltheyshallmeetoncemore.Then,intriumphshalltheyreturntothegod.’Itisacuriouscoincidencethatthereisatthepresenttimeastonecorrespondingcloselyindescriptionwiththisone,andknownas‘TheStaroftheWest,’or‘TheWesternStar.’Itisthepropertyofthecelebratedfilmstar,MissMaryMarvell.Acomparisonofthetwostoneswouldbeinteresting.”

Shestopped.“Épatant!”murmuredPoirot.“Withoutdoubtaromanceofthefirstwater.”

He turned toMaryMarvell. “And you are not afraid,madame?You have nosuperstitious terrors?Youdonot fear to introduce these twoSiamese twins toeachotherlestaChinamanshouldappearand,heypresto!whiskthembothbacktoChina?”

Histonewasmocking,butIfanciedthatanundercurrentofseriousnesslaybeneathit.

“I don’t believe that Lady Yardly’s diamond is anything like as good asmine,”saidMissMarvell.“Anyway,I’mgoingtosee.”

WhatmorePoirotwouldhave said Idonotknow, for at thatmoment thedoor flew open, and a splendid-looking man strode into the room. From hiscrisplycurlingblackhead,tothetipsofhispatentleatherboots,hewasaherofitforromance.

“I said I’d call round for you,Mary,” saidGregoryRolf, “andhere I am.Well,whatdoesMonsieurPoirot say toour littleproblem? Justonebighoax,sameasIdo?”

Poirotsmiledupatthebigactor.Theymadearidiculouscontrast.“Hoaxornohoax,Mr.Rolf,”hesaiddryly,“IhaveadvisedMadameyour

wifenottotakethejewelwithhertoYardlyChaseonFriday.”“I’mwith you there, sir. I’ve already said so toMary. But there! She’s a

woman through and through, and I guess she can’t bear to think of anotherwomanoutshiningherinthejewelline.”

“What nonsense, Gregory!” said Mary Marvell sharply. But she flushedangrily.

Poirotshruggedhisshoulders.“Madame,Ihaveadvised.Icandonomore.C’estfini.”Hebowedthembothtothedoor.“Ah! la la,” he observed, returning. “Histoire des femmes! The good

husband,hehitthenail—toutdemême,buthewasnottactful!Assuredlynot.”Iimpartedtohimmyvagueremembrances,andhenoddedvigorously.“SoIthought.Allthesame,thereissomethingcuriousunderneathallthis.

Withyourpermission,monami, Iwill take the air.Awaitmy return, I beg ofyou,Ishallnotbelong.”

Iwashalfasleepinmychairwhenthelandladytappedonthedoor,andputherheadin.

“It’sanotherladytoseeMr.Poirot,sir.I’vetoldherhewasout,butshesaysashowshe’llwait,seeingasshe’scomeupfromthecountry.”

“Oh, showher in here,Mrs.Murchinson.Perhaps I cando something forher.”

Inanothermomenttheladyhadbeenusheredin.MyheartgavealeapasIrecognizedher.LadyYardly’sportraithadfiguredtoooftenintheSocietypaperstoallowhertoremainunknown.

“Do sit down,LadyYardly,” I said, drawing forward a chair. “My friend,Poirot,isout,butIknowforafactthathe’llbebackveryshortly.”

Shethankedmeandsatdown.Averydifferenttype,this,fromMissMaryMarvell. Tall, dark,with flashing eyes, and a pale proud face—yet something

wistfulinthecurvesofthemouth.Ifeltadesiretorisetotheoccasion.Whynot?InPoirot’spresenceIhave

frequentlyfeltadifficulty—Idonotappearatmybest.AndyetthereisnodoubtthatI,too,possessthedeductivesenseinamarkeddegree.Ileantforwardonasuddenimpulse.

“LadyYardly,”Isaid,“Iknowwhyyouhavecomehere.Youhavereceivedblackmailinglettersaboutthediamond.”

There was no doubt as to my bolt having shot home. She stared at meopenmouthed,allcolourbanishedfromhercheeks.

“Youknow?”shegasped.“How?”Ismiled.“Byaperfectlylogicalprocess.IfMissMarvellhashadwarningletters—”“MissMarvell?Shehasbeenhere?”“Shehasjustleft.AsIwassaying,ifshe,astheholderofoneofthetwin

diamonds,hasreceivedamysteriousseriesofwarnings,you,astheholderoftheotherstone,mustnecessarilyhavedonethesame.Youseehowsimpleitis?Iamright,then,youhavereceivedthesestrangecommunicationsalso?”

Foramomentshehesitated,asthoughindoubtwhethertotrustmeornot,thenshebowedherheadinassentwithalittlesmile.

“Thatisso,”sheacknowledged.“Wereyours,too,leftbyhand—byaChinaman?”“No,theycamebypost;buttellme,hasMissMarvellundergonethesame

experience,then?”Irecountedtohertheeventsofthemorning.Shelistenedattentively.“Itallfitsin.Mylettersaretheduplicateofhers.Itistruethattheycameby

post,butthereisacuriousperfumeimpregnatingthem—somethinginthenatureofjossstick—thatatoncesuggestedtheEasttome.Whatdoesitallmean?”

Ishookmyhead.“That iswhatwemust findout.Youhave the letterswithyou?Wemight

learnsomethingfromthepostmarks.”

“UnfortunatelyIdestroyedthem.Youunderstand,atthetimeIregardeditassome foolish joke.Can it be true that someChinese gang are really trying torecoverthediamonds?Itseemstooincredible.”

Wewentoverthefactsagainandagain,butcouldgetnofurthertowardstheelucidationofthemystery.AtlastLadyYardlyrose.

“I reallydon’t think Ineedwait forMonsieurPoirot.Youcan tellhimallthis,can’tyou?ThankyousomuchMr.—”

Shehesitated,herhandoutstretched.“CaptainHastings.”“Ofcourse!Howstupidofme.You’rea friendof theCavendishes, aren’t

you?ItwasMaryCavendishwhosentmetoMonsieurPoirot.”When my friend returned, I enjoyed telling him the tale of what had

occurred during his absence. He cross-questioned me rather sharply over thedetailsofour conversationand I could readbetween the lines thathewasnotbestpleasedtohavebeenabsent.Ialsofanciedthatthedearoldfellowwasjustthe least inclined to be jealous. It had become rather a pose with him toconsistently belittle my abilities, and I think he was chagrined at finding noloopholeforcriticism.Iwassecretlyratherpleasedwithmyself,thoughItriedtoconceal the fact for fear of irritating him. In spite of his idiosyncrasies, Iwasdeeplyattachedtomyquaintlittlefriend.

“Bien! ” he said at length, with a curious look on his face. “The plotdevelops.Passme, Iprayyou, thatPeerageon the topshelf there.”He turnedthe leaves.“Ah,hereweare! ‘Yardly . . .10thviscount, servedSouthAfricanWar...’toutçan’apasd’importance...‘mar.1907Hon.MaudeStopperton,fourth daughter of 3rd Baron Cotteril . . .’ um, um, um . . . ‘has iss. twodaughters,born1908,1910...Clubs,residences...’Voilà,thatdoesnottellusmuch.Buttomorrowmorningweseethismilord!”

“What?”“Yes.Itelephonedtohim.”“Ithoughtyouhadwashedyourhandsofthecase?”

“I am not acting forMissMarvell since she refuses to be guided bymyadvice.What Idonowis formyownsatisfaction—thesatisfactionofHerculePoirot!Decidedly,Imusthaveafingerinthispie.”

“And you calmly wire Lord Yardly to dash up to town just to suit yourconvenience.Hewon’tbepleased.”

“Aucontraire,ifIpreserveforhimhisfamilydiamond,heoughttobeverygrateful.”

“Then you really think there is any chance of it being stolen?” I askedeagerly.

“Almostacertainty,”repliedPoirotplacidly.“Everythingpointsthatway.”“Buthow—”Poirotstoppedmyeagerquestionswithanairygestureofthehand.“Not now, I pray you. Let us not confuse the mind. And observe that

Peerage—howyouhavereplacedhim!Seeyounotthatthetallestbooksgointhetopshelf,thenexttallestintherowbeneath,andsoon.Thuswehaveorder,method,which,asIhaveoftentoldyou,Hastings—”

“Exactly,”Isaidhastily,andputtheoffendingvolumeinitsproperplace.

IILordYardlyturnedouttobeacheery,loud-voicedsportsmanwitharatherredface, but with a good-humoured bonhomie about him that was distinctlyattractiveandmadeupforanylackofmentality.

“Extraordinarybusinessthis,MonsieurPoirot.Can’tmakeheadortailofit.Seemsmywife’sbeengettingoddkindof letters,and thatMissMarvell’shad’emtoo.Whatdoesitallmean?”

PoirothandedhimthecopyofSocietyGossip.“First,milord,Iwouldaskyouifthesefactsaresubstantiallycorrect?”Thepeertookit.Hisfacedarkenedwithangerasheread.“Damnednonsense!”hespluttered.“There’sneverbeenanyromanticstory

attachingtothediamond.ItcamefromIndiaoriginally,Ibelieve.IneverheardofallthisChinesegodstuff.”

“Still,thestoneisknownas‘TheStaroftheEast.’”“Well,whatifitis?”hedemandedwrathfully.Poirotsmiledalittle,butmadenodirectreply.“What Iwouldaskyou todo,milord, is toplaceyourself inmyhands. If

youdosounreservedly,Ihavegreathopesofavertingthecatastrophe.”“Thenyouthinkthere’sactuallysomethinginthesewildcattales?”“WillyoudoasIaskyou?”“OfcourseIwill,but—”“Bien! Then permit that I ask you a few questions. This affair of Yardly

Chase,isit,asyousay,allfixedupbetweenyouandMr.Rolf?”“Oh,hetoldyouaboutit,didhe?No,there’snothingsettled.”Hehesitated,

thebrick-redcolourofhisfacedeepening.“Mightaswellgetthethingstraight.I’vemaderatheranassofmyselfinmanyways,MonsieurPoirot—andI’mheadover ears in debt—but Iwant to pull up. I’m fond of the kids, and Iwant tostraighten things up, and be able to live on at the old place. Gregory Rolf isofferingmebigmoney—enoughtosetmeonmyfeetagain.Idon’twanttodoit—Ihate the thought of all that crowdplayacting round theChase—but Imayhaveto,unless—”Hebrokeoff.

Poiroteyedhimkeenly.“Youhave,then,anotherstringtoyourbow?PermitthatImakeaguess?ItistosellTheStaroftheEast?”

LordYardlynodded.“That’sit.It’sbeeninthefamilyforsomegenerations,but it’s not essential. Still, it’s not the easiest thing in the world to find apurchaser. Hoffberg, the Hatton Garden man, is on the lookout for a likelycustomer,buthe’llhavetofindonesoon,orit’sawashout.”

“One more question, permettez—Lady Yardly, which plan does sheapprove?”

“Oh,she’sbitterlyopposedtomysellingthejewel.Youknowwhatwomenare.She’sallforthisfilmstunt.”

“Icomprehend,”saidPoirot.Heremainedamomentorsointhought,thenrosebrisklytohisfeet.“YoureturntoYardlyChaseatonce?Bien!Saynowordtoanyone—toanyone,mind—butexpectus there this evening.Wewill arriveshortlyafterfive.

“Allright,butIdon’tsee—”“Çan’apasd’importance,”saidPoirotkindly.“YouwillthatIpreservefor

youyourdiamond,n’est-cepas?”“Yes,but—”“ThendoasIsay.”Asadlybewilderednoblemanlefttheroom.

IIIItwashalfpastfivewhenwearrivedatYardlyChase,andfollowedthedignifiedbutlertotheoldpanelledhallwithitsfireofblazinglogs.Aprettypicturemetoureyes:LadyYardlyandhertwochildren,themother’sprouddarkheadbentdownoverthetwofairones.LordYardlystoodnear,smilingdownonthem.

“MonsieurPoirotandCaptainHastings,”announcedthebutler.Lady Yardly looked up with a start, for her husband came forward

uncertainly,hiseyesseekinginstructionfromPoirot.Thelittlemanwasequaltotheoccasion.

“Allmy excuses! It is that I investigate still this affair ofMissMarvell’s.ShecomestoyouonFriday,doesshenot?Imakealittletourfirsttomakesurethatallissecure.AlsoIwantedtoaskLadyYardlyifsherecollectedatallthepostmarksonthelettersshereceived?”

LadyYardly shook her head regretfully. “I’m afraid I don’t. It’s stupid ofme.But,yousee,Ineverdreamtoftakingthemseriously.”

“You’llstaythenight?”saidLordYardly.“Oh,milord,Ifeartoincommodeyou.Wehaveleftourbagsattheinn.”“That’sallright.”LordYardlyhadhiscue.“We’llsenddownforthem.No,

no—notrouble,Iassureyou.”Poirotpermittedhimselftobepersuaded,andsittingdownbyLadyYardly,

begantomakefriendswiththechildren.Inashort timetheywereallrompingtogether,andhaddraggedmeintothegame.

“Vousêtesbonnemère,”saidPoirot,withagallantlittlebow,asthechildrenwereremovedreluctantlybyasternnurse.

LadyYardlysmoothedherruffledhair.“Iadorethem,”shesaidwithalittlecatchinhervoice.“Andtheyyou—withreason!”Poirotbowedagain.A dressing gong sounded, and we rose to go up to our rooms. At that

momentthebutleremergedwithatelegramonasalverwhichhehandedtoLordYardly. The latter tore it openwith a briefword of apology.As he read it hestiffenedvisibly.

Withanejaculationhehandedittohiswife.Thenheglancedatmyfriend.“Just aminute,MonsieurPoirot, I feel you ought to know about this. It’s

fromHoffberg.Hethinkshe’sfoundacustomerforthediamond—anAmerican,sailingfortheStatestomorrow.They’resendingdownachaptonighttovetthestone.ByJove,though,ifthisgoesthrough—”Wordsfailedhim.

LadyYardlyhadturnedaway.Shestillheldthetelegraminherhand.“Iwishyouwouldn’tsellit,George,”shesaid,inalowvoice.“It’sbeenin

thefamilysolong.”Shewaited,asthoughforareply,butwhennonecameherfacehardened.Sheshruggedhershoulders.“Imustgoanddress.IsupposeIhadbetterdisplay‘thegoods.’”SheturnedtoPoirotwithaslightgrimace.“It’soneof the most hideous necklaces that was ever designed! George has alwayspromisedtohavethestonesresetforme,butit’sneverbeendone.”Shelefttheroom.

Half an hour later, we three were assembled in the great drawing roomawaitingthelady.Itwasalreadyafewminutespastthedinnerhour.

Suddenly therewasa low rustle, andLadyYardlyappeared framed in thedoorway,aradiantfigureinalongwhiteshimmeringdress.Roundthecolumn

ofherneckwasarivuletoffire.Shestoodtherewithonehandjusttouchingthenecklace.

“Behold the sacrifice,” she said gaily. Her ill-humour seemed to havevanished.“WaitwhileIturnthebiglightonandyoushallfeastyoureyesontheugliestnecklaceinEngland.”

The switcheswere just outside the door.As she stretchedout her hand tothem,theincrediblethinghappened.Suddenly,withoutanywarning,everylightwasextinguished, thedoorbanged,and from theother sideof it camea long-drawnpiercingwoman’sscream.

“My God!” cried Lord Yardly. “That was Maude’s voice! What hashappened?”

Werushedblindlyforthedoor,cannoningintoeachotherinthedarkness.Itwas someminutes before we could find it.What a sightmet our eyes! LadyYardly lay senseless on themarble floor, a crimsonmark on herwhite throatwherethenecklacehadbeenwrenchedfromherneck.

Aswe bent over her, uncertain for themomentwhether shewas dead oralive,hereyelidsopened.

“TheChinaman,”shewhisperedpainfully.“TheChinaman—thesidedoor.”LordYardlysprangupwithanoath.Iaccompaniedhim,myheartbeating

wildly.TheChinamanagain!Thesidedoor inquestionwasasmallonein theangleofthewall,notmorethanadozenyardsfromthesceneofthetragedy.Aswereachedit, Igaveacry.There, justshortof thethreshold, laytheglitteringnecklace, evidently dropped by the thief in the panic of his flight. I swoopedjoyouslydownonit.ThenIutteredanothercrywhichLordYardlyechoed.Forinthemiddleofthenecklacewasagreatgap.TheStaroftheEastwasmissing!

“Thatsettlesit,”Ibreathed.“Thesewerenoordinarythieves.Thisonestonewasalltheywanted.”

“Buthowdidthefellowgetin?”“Throughthisdoor.”“Butit’salwayslocked.”

Ishookmyhead.“It’snotlockednow.See.”IpulleditopenasIspoke.AsIdidsosomethingflutteredtotheground.Ipickeditup.Itwasapiece

of silk, and the embroidery was unmistakable. It had been torn from aChinaman’srobe.

“Inhishaste it caught in thedoor,” I explained. “Come,hurry.Hecannothavegonefarasyet.”

Butinvainwehuntedandsearched.Inthepitchdarknessofthenight,thethiefhadfounditeasytomakehisgetaway.Wereturnedreluctantly,andLordYardlysentoffoneofthefootmenposthastetofetchthepolice.

LadyYardly,aptlyministered tobyPoirot,who isasgoodasawoman inthesematters,wassufficientlyrecoveredtobeabletotellherstory.

“Iwasjustgoingtoturnontheotherlight,”shesaid,“whenamansprangonmefrombehind.He toremynecklacefrommyneckwithsuchforce that Ifellheadlongtothefloor.AsIfellIsawhimdisappearingthroughthesidedoor.Then I realized by the pigtail and the embroidered robe that he was aChinaman.”Shestoppedwithashudder.

Thebutlerreappeared.HespokeinalowvoicetoLordYardly.“AgentlemanfromMr.Hoffberg’s,m’lord.Hesaysyouexpecthim.”“Goodheavens!”criedthedistractednobleman.“Imustseehim,Isuppose.

No,nothere,Mullings,inthelibrary.”IdrewPoirotaside.“Lookhere,mydearfellow,hadn’twebettergetbacktoLondon?”“Youthinkso,Hastings?Why?”“Well”—Icougheddelicately—“thingshaven’tgoneverywell,havethey?I

mean,youtellLordYardlytoplacehimselfinyourhandsandallwillbewell—andthenthediamondvanishesfromunderyourverynose!”

“True,”saidPoirot, rathercrestfallen.“Itwasnotoneofmymoststrikingtriumphs.”

Thiswayofdescribingeventsalmostcausedmetosmile,butIstucktomyguns.

“So, having—pardon the expression—rathermade amess of things, don’tyouthinkitwouldbemoregracefultoleaveimmediately?”

“And thedinner, thewithout doubt excellent dinner, that thechef ofLordYardlyhasprepared?”

“Oh,what’sdinner!”Isaidimpatiently.Poirothelduphishandsinhorror.“MonDieu!Itisthatinthiscountryyoutreattheaffairsgastronomicwitha

criminalindifference.”“There’s another reason why we should get back to London as soon as

possible,”Icontinued.“Whatisthat,myfriend?”“Theotherdiamond,”Isaid,loweringmyvoice.“MissMarvell’s.”“Ehbien,whatofit?”“Don’tyousee?”Hisunusualobtusenessannoyedme.Whathadhappened

tohisusuallykeenwits?“They’vegotone,nowthey’llgofortheother.”“Tiens!” cried Poirot, stepping back a pace and regarding me with

admiration.“Butyourbrainmarchestoamarvel,myfriend!Figuretoyourselfthatfor themomentIhadnot thoughtof that!But there isplentyof time.Thefullofthemoon,itisnotuntilFriday.”

I shookmy head dubiously. The full of themoon theory leftme entirelycold.IhadmywaywithPoirot,however,andwedepartedimmediately,leavingbehindusanoteofexplanationandapologyforLordYardly.

My ideawas togoatonce to theMagnificent, and relate toMissMarvellwhat had occurred, but Poirot vetoed the plan, and insisted that the morningwouldbetimeenough.Igaveinrathergrudgingly.

In themorning Poirot seemed strangely disinclined to stir out. I began tosuspect that, having made a mistake to start with, he was singularly loath toproceed with the case. In answer to my persuasions, he pointed out, withadmirablecommonsense, thatas thedetailsof theaffairatYardlyChasewerealreadyinthemorningpaperstheRolfswouldknowquiteasmuchaswecould

tellthem.Igavewayunwillingly.Events proved my forebodings to be justified. About two o’clock, the

telephonerang.Poirotansweredit.Helistenedforsomemoments, thenwithabrief“Bien,j’yserai”herangoff,andturnedtome.

“Whatdoyouthink,monami?”Helookedhalfashamed,halfexcited.“ThediamondofMissMarvell,ithasbeenstolen.”

“What?” I cried, springing up. “And what about the ‘full of the moon’now?”Poirothunghishead.“Whendidthishappen?”

“Thismorning,Iunderstand.”Ishookmyheadsadly.“Ifonlyyouhadlistenedtome.YouseeIwasright.”“It appears so, mon ami,” said Poirot cautiously. “Appearances are

deceptive,theysay,butitcertainlyappearsso.”AswehurriedinataxitotheMagnificent,Ipuzzledoutthetrueinwardness

ofthescheme.“That‘fullofthemoon’ideawasclever.Thewholepointofitwastogetus

toconcentrateontheFriday,andsobeoffourguardbeforehand.Itisapityyoudidnotrealizethat.”

“Ma foi!” said Poirot airily, his nonchalance quite restored after its briefeclipse.“Onecannotthinkofeverything!”

Ifeltsorryforhim.Hedidsohatefailureofanykind.“Cheerup,”Isaidconsolingly.“Betterlucknexttime.”At theMagnificent, we were ushered at once into the manager’s office.

GregoryRolfwastherewithtwomenfromScotlandYard.Apale-facedclerksatoppositethem.

Rolfnoddedtousasweentered.“We’regetting to thebottomof it,”hesaid.“But it’salmostunbelievable.

HowtheguyhadthenerveIcan’tthink.”Averyfewminutessufficedtogiveusthefacts.Mr.Rolfhadgoneoutof

thehotelat11:15.At11:30,agentleman,so likehiminappearanceas topassmuster,enteredthehotelanddemandedthejewelcasefromthesafedeposit.He

dulysignedthereceipt,remarkingcarelesslyashedidso:“Looksabitdifferentfrommy ordinary one, but I hurtmy hand getting out of the taxi.” The clerkmerelysmiledandremarkedthathesawverylittledifference.Rolflaughedandsaid: “Well, don’t run me in as a crook this time, anyway. I’ve been gettingthreatening letters fromaChinaman,and theworstof it is I look rather likeaChinkmyself—it’ssomethingabouttheeyes.”

“Ilookedathim,”saidtheclerkwhowastellingusthis,“andIsawatoncewhathemeant.Theeyesslantedupat thecorners likeanOriental’s. I’dnevernoticeditbefore.”

“Darnitall,man,”roaredGregoryRolf,leaningforward,“doyounoticeitnow?”

Themanlookedupathimandstarted.“No, sir,” he said. “I can’t say I do.”And indeed therewas nothing even

remotelyOrientalaboutthefrankbrowneyesthatlookedintoours.TheScotlandYardmangrunted.“Boldcustomer.Thoughttheeyesmightbe

noticed, and took the bull by the horns to disarm suspicion. He must havewatchedyououtofthehotel,sir,andnippedinassoonasyouwerewellaway.”

“Whataboutthejewelcase?”Iasked.“Itwas found in the corridor of thehotel.Onlyone thinghadbeen taken

—‘TheWesternStar.’”Westaredateachother—thewholethingwassobizarre,sounreal.Poirothoppedbrisklytohisfeet.“Ihavenotbeenofmuchuse,Ifear,”he

saidregretfully.“IsitpermittedtoseeMadame?”“Iguessshe’sprostratedwiththeshock,”exclaimedRolf.“ThenperhapsImighthaveafewwordsalonewithyou,monsieur?”“Certainly.”InaboutfiveminutesPoirotreappeared.“Now, my friend,” he said gaily. “To a post office. I have to send a

telegram.”“Whoto?”

“LordYardly.”Hediscountedfurtherinquiriesbyslippinghisarmthroughmine. “Come, come, mon ami. I know all that you feel about this terriblebusiness. I have not distinguished myself! You, in my place, might havedistinguishedyourself.Bien!Allisadmitted.Letusforgetitandhavelunch.”

It was about four o’clockwhenwe entered Poirot’s rooms.A figure rosefrom a chair by the window. It was Lord Yardly. He looked haggard anddistraught.

“I got your wire and came up at once. Look here, I’ve been round toHoffberg,andtheyknownothingaboutthatmanoftheirslastnight,orthewireeither.Doyouthinkthat—”

Poirothelduphishand.“Myexcuses!Isentthatwire,andhiredthegentlemaninquestion.”“You—butwhy?What?”Thenoblemansplutteredimpotently.“Mylittleideawastobringthingstoahead,”explainedPoirotplacidly.“Bringthingstoahead!Oh,myGod!”criedLordYardly.“Andtherusesucceeded,”saidPoirotcheerfully.“Therefore,milord,Ihave

muchpleasure in returningyou—this!”Withadramaticgestureheproducedaglitteringobject.Itwasagreatdiamond.

“TheStaroftheEast,”gaspedLordYardly.“ButIdon’tunderstand—”“No?”saidPoirot.“Itmakesnomatter.Believeme,itwasnecessaryforthe

diamond tobe stolen. Ipromisedyou that itwouldbepreserved toyou,and Ihavekeptmyword.Youmustpermitmetokeepmylittlesecret.Convey,Ibegof you, the assurance ofmy deepest respect toLadyYardly, and tell her howpleasedIamtobeabletorestoreherjeweltoher.Whatbeautemps, is itnot?Goodday,milord.”

Andsmilingand talking, theamazing littlemanconducted thebewilderednoblemantothedoor.Hereturnedgentlyrubbinghishands.

“Poirot,”Isaid.“AmIquitedemented?”“No,monami,butyouare,asalways,inamentalfog.”“Howdidyougetthediamond?”

“FromMr.Rolf.”“Rolf?”“Maisoui!Thewarningletters,theChinaman,thearticleinSocietyGossip,

allsprangfromtheingeniousbrainofMr.Rolf!Thetwodiamonds,supposedtobesomiraculouslyalike—bah!theydidnotexist.Therewasonlyonediamond,myfriend!OriginallyintheYardlycollection,forthreeyearsithasbeeninthepossessionofMr.Rolf.Hestoleitthismorningwiththeassistanceofatouchofgrease paint at the corner of each eye!Ah, Imust see him on the film, he isindeedanartist,celui-là!”

“Butwhyshouldhestealhisowndiamond?”Iasked,puzzled.“Formanyreasons.Tobeginwith,LadyYardlywasgettingrestive.”“LadyYardly?”“YoucomprehendshewasleftmuchaloneinCalifornia.Herhusbandwas

amusinghimselfelsewhere.Mr.Rolfwashandsome,hehadanairabouthimofromance.Butau fond, he is very businesslike, cemonsieur! Hemade love toLadyYardly, and then he blackmailed her. I taxed the ladywith the truth theothernight,andsheadmittedit.Shesworethatshehadonlybeenindiscreet,andIbelieveher.But,undoubtedly,Rolfhadlettersofhersthatcouldbetwistedtobear a different interpretation. Terrified by the threat of a divorce, and theprospectofbeingseparatedfromherchildren,sheagreedtoallhewished.Shehadnomoneyofherown,andshewasforcedtopermithimtosubstituteapastereplicafortherealstone.Thecoincidenceofthedateoftheappearanceof‘TheWesternStar’ struckmeatonce.Allgoeswell.LordYardlyprepares to rangehimself—tosettledown.Andthencomesthemenaceofthepossiblesaleofthediamond. The substitution will be discovered. Without doubt she writes offfranticallytoGregoryRolfwhohasjustarrivedinEngland.Hesoothesherbypromisingtoarrangeall—andpreparesforadoublerobbery.Inthiswayhewillquiet the lady,whomight conceivably tell all to her husband, an affairwhichwould not suit our blackmailer at all, he will have £50,000 insurance money(aha,youhadforgottenthat!),andhewillstillhavethediamond!AtthispointI

putmyfingers in thepie.Thearrivalofadiamondexpert isannounced.LadyYardly, as I felt sure shewould, immediately arranges a robbery—and does itverywell too!ButHerculePoirot,he seesnothingbut facts.Whathappens inactuality?The lady switchesoff the light,bangs thedoor, throws thenecklacedownthepassage,andscreams.Shehasalreadywrenchedoutthediamondwithpliersupstairs—”

“Butwesawthenecklaceroundherneck!”Iobjected.“Idemandpardon,myfriend.Herhandconcealed thepartof itwhere the

gapwouldhaveshown.Toplaceapieceofsilkinthedoorbeforehandischild’splay!Ofcourse,assoonasRolfreadoftherobbery,hearrangedhisownlittlecomedy.Andverywellheplayedit!”

“Whatdidyousaytohim?”Iaskedwithlivelycuriosity.“I said to him that Lady Yardly had told her husband all, that I was

empoweredtorecoverthejewel,andthatifitwerenotimmediatelyhandedoverproceedingswouldbe taken.Alsoafewmore little lieswhichoccurred tome.Hewasaswaxinmyhands!”

Iponderedthematter.“ItseemsalittleunfaironMaryMarvell.Shehaslostherdiamondthrough

nofaultofherown.”“Bah!” saidPoirotbrutally. “Shehas amagnificent advertisement.That is

all she cares for, that one! Now the other, she is different. Bonne mère, trèsfemme!”

“Yes,” I said doubtfully, hardly sharing Poirot’s views on femininity. “IsupposeitwasRolfwhosenthertheduplicateletters.”

“Pas du tout,” said Poirot briskly. “She came by the advice of MaryCavendish to seekmyaid inherdilemma.Thensheheard thatMaryMarvell,whom she knew to be her enemy, had been here, and she changed her mindjumping at a pretext that you, my friend, offered her. A very few questionssufficedtoshowmethatyoutoldheroftheletters,notsheyou!Shejumpedat

thechanceyourwordsoffered.”“Idon’tbelieveit,”Icried,stung.“Si,si,monami,itisapitythatyoustudynotthepsychology.Shetoldyou

thatthelettersweredestroyed?Oh,lala,neverdoesawomandestroyaletterifshecanavoidit!Notevenifitwouldbemoreprudenttodoso!”

“It’sallverywell,”Isaid,myangerrising,“butyou’vemadeaperfectfoolofme!Frombeginningtoend!No,it’sallverywelltotryandexplainitawayafterwards.Therereallyisalimit!”

“Butyouweresoenjoyingyourself,myfriend,Ihadnotthehearttoshatteryourillusions.”

“It’snogood.You’vegoneabittoofarthistime.”“MonDieu!buthowyouenrageyourselffornothing,monami!”“I’m fed up!” Iwent out, banging the door. Poirot hadmade an absolute

laughingstockofme.Idecidedthatheneededasharplesson.IwouldletsometimeelapsebeforeIforgavehim.Hehadencouragedmetomakeaperfectfoolofmyself.

Two

THE T RAGEDYATM ARSDON M ANOR

I had been called away from town for a few days, and on my return foundPoirotintheactofstrappinguphissmallvalise.

“Alabonneheure,Hastings,Ifearedyouwouldnothavereturnedintimetoaccompanyme.”

“Youarecalledawayonacase,then?”“Yes,thoughIamboundtoadmitthat,onthefaceofit,theaffairdoesnot

seem promising. The Northern Union Insurance Company have asked me toinvestigatethedeathofaMr.Maltraverswhoafewweeksagoinsuredhislifewiththemforthelargesumoffiftythousandpounds.”

“Yes?”Isaid,muchinterested.“Therewas,ofcourse,theusualsuicideclauseinthepolicy.Intheeventof

his committing suicide within a year the premiums would be forfeited.Mr.MaltraverswasdulyexaminedbytheCompany’sowndoctor,andalthoughhewasamanslightlypasttheprimeoflifewaspassedasbeinginquitesoundhealth. However, onWednesday last—the day before yesterday—the body ofMr.MaltraverswasfoundinthegroundsofhishouseinEssex,MarsdonManor,and the causeof his death is described as somekindof internal haemorrhage.That in itself would be nothing remarkable, but sinister rumours as toMr.Maltravers’financialpositionhavebeenintheairoflate,andtheNorthernUnionhaveascertainedbeyondanypossibledoubtthatthedeceasedgentlemanstood upon the verge of bankruptcy. Now that alters matters considerably.Maltravershadabeautifulyoungwife,anditissuggestedthathegottogetherallthe ready money he could for the purpose of paying the premiums on a life

insuranceforhiswife’sbenefit,andthencommittedsuicide.Suchathingisnotuncommon. In any case, my friend Alfred Wright, who is a director of theNorthernUnion,hasaskedmetoinvestigatethefactsofthecase,but,asItoldhim,Iamnotveryhopefulofsuccess.Ifthecauseofthedeathhadbeenheartfailure, I should have been more sanguine. Heart failure may always betranslatedastheinabilityofthelocalGPtodiscoverwhathispatientreallydiddie of, but a haemorrhage seems fairly definite. Still, we can butmake somenecessaryinquiries.Fiveminutestopackyourbag,Hastings,andwewilltakeataxitoLiverpoolStreet.”

About an hour later, we alighted from a Great Eastern train at the littlestation ofMarsdonLeigh. Inquiries at the station yielded the information thatMarsdonManorwasaboutamiledistant.Poirotdecidedtowalk,andwebetookourselvesalongthemainstreet.

“Whatisourplanofcampaign?”Iasked.“First Iwill callupon thedoctor. Ihaveascertained that there isonlyone

doctorinMarsdonLeigh,Dr.RalphBernard.Ah,hereweareathishouse.”Thehouseinquestionwasakindofsuperiorcottage,standingbackalittle

fromtheroad.Abrassplateonthegateborethedoctor’sname.Wepassedupthepathandrangthebell.

Weproved tobe fortunate inourcall. Itwas thedoctor’sconsultinghour,andforthemomenttherewerenopatientswaitingforhim.Dr.Bernardwasanelderly man, high-shouldered and stooping, with a pleasant vagueness ofmanner.

Poirotintroducedhimselfandexplainedthepurposeofourvisit,addingthatInsuranceCompanieswereboundtoinvestigatefullyinacaseofthiskind.

“Ofcourse,ofcourse,”saidDr.Bernardvaguely.“Isuppose,ashewassucharichman,hislifewasinsuredforabigsum?”

“Youconsiderhimarichman,doctor?”Thedoctorlookedrathersurprised.“Washenot?Hekepttwocars,youknow,andMarsdonManorisapretty

bigplacetokeepup,althoughIbelieveheboughtitverycheap.”“I understand that he had had considerable losses of late,” said Poirot,

watchingthedoctornarrowly.Thelatter,however,merelyshookhisheadsadly.“Is that so? Indeed. It is fortunate for hiswife, then, that there is this life

insurance.Averybeautifulandcharmingyoungcreature,but terriblyunstrungbythissadcatastrophe.Amassofnerves,poorthing.IhavetriedtospareherallIcan,butofcoursetheshockwasboundtobeconsiderable.”

“YouhadbeenattendingMr.Maltraversrecently?”“Mydearsir,Ineverattendedhim.”“What?”“I understandMr. Maltravers was a Christian Scientist—or something of

thatkind.”“Butyouexaminedthebody?”“Certainly.Iwasfetchedbyoneoftheundergardeners.”“Andthecauseofdeathwasclear?”“Absolutely. There was blood on the lips, butmost of the bleedingmust

havebeeninternal.”“Washestilllyingwherehehadbeenfound?”“Yes, thebodyhadnotbeen touched.Hewas lyingat theedgeofasmall

plantation. He had evidently been out shooting rooks, a small rook rifle laybesidehim.Thehaemorrhagemusthaveoccurredquitesuddenly.Gastriculcer,withoutadoubt.”

“Noquestionofhishavingbeenshot,eh?”“Mydearsir!”“Idemandpardon,”saidPoirothumbly.“But,ifmymemoryisnotatfault,

inthecaseofarecentmurder,thedoctorfirstgaveaverdictofheartfailure—altering itwhen the local constable pointed out that therewas a bulletwoundthroughthehead!”

“YouwillnotfindanybulletwoundsonthebodyofMr.Maltravers,”said

Dr.Bernarddryly.“Nowgentlemen,ifthereisnothingfurther—”Wetookthehint.“Goodmorning, andmany thanks to you, doctor, for so kindly answering

ourquestions.Bytheway,yousawnoneedforanautopsy?”“Certainly not.”The doctor became quite apoplectic. “The cause of death

wasclear,andinmyprofessionweseenoneedtodistressundulytherelativesofadeadpatient.”

And,turning,thedoctorslammedthedoorsharplyinourfaces.“AndwhatdoyouthinkofDr.Bernard,Hastings?”inquiredPoirot,aswe

proceededonourwaytotheManor.“Ratheranoldass.”“Exactly.Yourjudgementsofcharacterarealwaysprofound,myfriend.”I glanced at him uneasily, but he seemed perfectly serious. A twinkle,

however,cameintohiseye,andheaddedslyly:“Thatistosay,wherethereisnoquestionofabeautifulwoman!”Ilookedathimcoldly.Onourarrivalatthemanorhouse,thedoorwasopenedtousbyamiddle-

aged parlourmaid. Poirot handed her his card, and a letter from the InsuranceCompanyforMrs.Maltravers.Sheshowedus intoasmallmorningroom,andretiredtotellhermistress.Abouttenminuteselapsed,andthenthedooropened,andaslenderfigureinwidow’sweedsstooduponthethreshold.

“MonsieurPoirot?”shefaltered.“Madame!”Poirotspranggallantlytohisfeetandhastenedtowardsher.“I

cannottellyouhowIregrettoderangeyouinthisway.Butwhatwillyou?Lesaffaires—theyknownomercy.”

Mrs.Maltraverspermittedhimtoleadhertoachair.Hereyeswereredwithweeping, but the temporary disfigurement could not conceal her extraordinarybeauty.Shewasabouttwenty-sevenor-eight,andveryfair,withlargeblueeyesandaprettypoutingmouth.

“Itissomethingaboutmyhusband’sinsurance,isit?ButmustIbebothered

now—sosoon?”“Courage,mydearmadame.Courage!Yousee,your latehusband insured

his life for rather a large sum, and in such a case theCompanyalwayshas tosatisfyitselfastoafewdetails.Theyhaveempoweredmetoactforthem.Youcan rest assured that I will do all in my power to render the matter not toounpleasant for you. Will you recount to me briefly the sad events ofWednesday?”

“Iwaschangingforteawhenmymaidcameup—oneofthegardenershadjustruntothehouse.Hehadfound—”

Hervoicetrailedaway.Poirotpressedherhandsympathetically.“I comprehend. Enough! You had seen your husband earlier in the

afternoon?”“Notsincelunch.Ihadwalkeddowntothevillageforsomestamps,andI

believehewasoutpotteringroundthegrounds.”“Shootingrooks,eh?”“Yes,heusuallytookhis littlerookriflewithhim,andIheardoneor two

shotsinthedistance.”“Whereisthislittlerookriflenow?”“Inthehall,Ithink.”Sheledthewayoutoftheroomandfoundandhandedthelittleweaponto

Poirot,whoexamineditcursorily.“Two shots fired, I see,” he observed, as he handed it back. “And now,

madame,ifImightsee—”Hepauseddelicately.“Theservantshalltakeyou,”shemurmured,avertingherhead.Theparlourmaid,summoned,ledPoirotupstairs.Iremainedwiththelovely

andunfortunatewoman.Itwashardtoknowwhethertospeakorremainsilent.Iessayedoneortwogeneralreflectionstowhichsherespondedabsently,andinaveryfewminutesPoirotrejoinedus.

“I thank you for all your courtesy, madame. I do not think you need be

troubledanyfurtherwiththismatter.Bytheway,doyouknowanythingofyourhusband’sfinancialposition?”

Sheshookherhead.“Nothingwhatever.Iamverystupidoverbusinessthings.”“Isee.Thenyoucangiveusnoclueastowhyhesuddenlydecidedtoinsure

hislife?Hehadnotdonesopreviously,Iunderstand.”“Well, we had only been married a little over a year. But, as to why he

insured his life, it was because he had absolutely made up his mind that hewouldnotlivelong.Hehadastrongpremonitionofhisowndeath.Igatherthathehadhadonehaemorrhagealready,andthatheknewthatanotheronewouldprovefatal.Itriedtodispelthesegloomyfearsofhis,butwithoutavail.Alas,hewasonlytooright!”

Tears in her eyes, she bade us a dignified farewell. Poirot made acharacteristicgestureaswewalkeddownthedrivetogether.

“Ehbien, that is that!Back toLondon,my friend, there appears to be nomouseinthismousehole.Andyet—”

“Yetwhat?”“Aslightdiscrepancy, that isall!Younoticed it?Youdidnot?Still, life is

fullofdiscrepancies,andassuredlythemancannothavetakenhislife—thereisnopoisonthatwouldfillhismouthwithblood.No,no,Imustresignmyselftothefactthatallhereisclearandaboveboard—butwhoisthis?”

Atallyoungmanwasstridingupthedrivetowardsus.Hepasseduswithoutmaking any sign, but I noted that hewas not ill-looking,with a lean, deeply-bronzedfacethatspokeoflifeinatropicclime.Agardenerwhowassweepingupleaveshadpausedforaminuteinhistask,andPoirotranquicklyuptohim.

“Tellme,Iprayyou,whoisthatgentleman?Doyouknowhim?”“Idon’trememberhisname,sir,thoughIdidhearit.Hewasstayingdown

herelastweekforanight.Tuesday,itwas.”“Quick,monami,letusfollowhim.”Wehastenedup thedriveafter theretreatingfigure.Aglimpseofablack-

robedfigureontheterraceatthesideofthehouse,andourquarryswervedandweafterhim,sothatwewerewitnessesofthemeeting.

Mrs.Maltravers almost staggeredwhere she stood, and her face blanchednoticeably.

“You,” shegasped. “I thoughtyouwereon the sea—onyourway toEastAfrica?”

“Igotsomenewsfrommylawyersthatdetainedme,”explainedtheyoungman. “My old uncle in Scotland died unexpectedly and leftme somemoney.UnderthecircumstancesIthoughtitbettertocancelmypassage.ThenIsawthisbadnewsinthepaperandIcamedowntoseeiftherewasanythingIcoulddo.You’llwantsomeonetolookafterthingsforyouabitperhaps.”

Atthatmomenttheybecameawareofourpresence.Poirotsteppedforward,andwithmanyapologiesexplainedthathehadlefthisstickinthehall.Ratherreluctantly,itseemedtome,Mrs.Maltraversmadethenecessaryintroduction.

“MonsieurPoirot,CaptainBlack.”Afewminutes’chatensued, in thecourseofwhichPoirotelicitedthefact

that Captain Black was putting up at the Anchor Inn. The missing stick nothaving been discovered (which was not surprising), Poirot uttered moreapologiesandwewithdrew.

Wereturnedtothevillageatagreatpace,andPoirotmadeabeelinefortheAnchorInn.

“Here we establish ourselves until our friend the Captain returns,” heexplained. “Younoticed that I emphasized thepoint thatwewere returning toLondon by the first train? Possibly you thought I meant it. But no—youobservedMrs.Maltravers’facewhenshecaughtsightofthisyoungBlack?Shewas clearly taken aback, and he—eh bien, he was very devoted, did you notthink so?And hewas here on Tuesday night—the day beforeMr.Maltraversdied.WemustinvestigatethedoingsofCaptainBlack,Hastings.”

Inabouthalfanhourweespiedourquarryapproachingtheinn.Poirotwent

outandaccostedhimandpresentlybroughthimuptotheroomwehadengaged.“IhavebeentellingCaptainBlackofthemissionwhichbringsushere,”he

explained. “You can understand,monsieur le capitaine, that I am anxious toarriveatMr.Maltravers’stateofmindimmediatelybeforehisdeath,andthatatthe same time I do notwish to distressMrs.Maltravers unduly by asking herpainfulquestions.Now,youwereherejustbeforetheoccurrence,andcangiveusequallyvaluableinformation.”

“I’lldoanythingIcantohelpyou,I’msure,”repliedtheyoungsoldier;“butI’m afraid I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. You see, althoughMaltravers was an old friend of my people’s, I didn’t know him very wellmyself.”

“Youcamedown—when?”“Tuesday afternoon. I went up to town earlyWednesdaymorning, asmy

boat sailed fromTilbury about twelveo’clock.But somenews Igotmademealtermyplans,asIdaresayyouheardmeexplaintoMrs.Maltravers.”

“YouwerereturningtoEastAfrica,Iunderstand?”“Yes.I’vebeenoutthereeversincetheWar—agreatcountry.”“Exactly.NowwhatwasthetalkaboutatdinneronTuesdaynight?”“Oh,Idon’tknow.Theusualoddtopics.Maltraversaskedaftermypeople,

and then we discussed the question of German reparations, and thenMr.MaltraversaskedalotofquestionsaboutEastAfrica,andItoldthemoneortwoyarns,that’saboutall,Ithink.”

“Thankyou.”Poirotwassilentforamoment,thenhesaidgently:“Withyourpermission,

Ishouldliketotryalittleexperiment.Youhavetoldusallthatyourconsciousselfknows,Iwantnowtoquestionyoursubconsciousself.”

“Psychoanalysis,what?”saidBlack,withvisiblealarm.“Oh, no,” said Poirot reassuringly. “You see, it is like this, I give you a

word, you answer with another, and so on. Anyword, the first you think of.Shallwebegin?”

“Allright,”saidBlackslowly,buthelookeduneasy.“Notedownthewords,please,Hastings,”saidPoirot.Thenhetookfromhis

pockethisbigturnip-facedwatchandlaiditonthetablebesidehim.“Wewillcommence.Day.”

Therewasamoment’spause,andthenBlackreplied:“Night.”AsPoirotproceeded,hisanswerscamequicker.“Name,”saidPoirot.“Place.”“Bernard.”“Shaw.”“Tuesday.”“Dinner.”“Journey.”“Ship.”“Country.”“Uganda.”“Story.”“Lions.”“RookRifle.”“Farm.”“Shot.”“Suicide.”“Elephant.”“Tusks.”“Money.”“Lawyers.”“Thankyou,CaptainBlack.Perhapsyoucouldsparemea fewminutes in

abouthalfanhour’stime?”“Certainly.”Theyoungsoldierlookedathimcuriouslyandwipedhisbrow

ashegotup.“Andnow,Hastings,”saidPoirot,smilingatmeasthedoorclosedbehind

him.“Youseeitall,doyounot?”“Idon’tknowwhatyoumean.”“Doesthatlistofwordstellyounothing?”Iscrutinizedit,butwasforcedtoshakemyhead.“Iwill assist you. To beginwith, Black answeredwellwithin the normal

time limit, with no pauses, so we can take it that he himself has no guiltyknowledge to conceal. ‘Day’ to ‘Night’ and ‘Place’ to ‘Name’ are normalassociations.Ibeganworkwith‘Bernard,’whichmighthavesuggestedthelocaldoctor had he come across him at all. Evidently he had not. After our recentconversation, he gave ‘Dinner’ to my ‘Tuesday,’ but ‘Journey’ and ‘Country’wereansweredby‘Ship’and‘Uganda,’showingclearlythatitwashisjourneyabroadthatwasimportanttohimandnottheonewhichbroughthimdownhere.‘Story’recallstohimoneofthe‘Lion’storieshetoldatdinner.Iproceededto‘RookRifle’andheansweredwiththetotallyunexpectedword‘Farm.’WhenIsay‘Shot,’heanswersatonce‘Suicide.’Theassociationseemsclear.Amanheknows committed suicidewith a rook rifle on a farm somewhere.Remember,too, that hismind is still on the stories he told at dinner, and I thinkyouwillagreethatIshallnotbefarfromthetruthifIrecallCaptainBlackandaskhimtorepeattheparticularsuicidestorywhichhetoldatthedinnertableonTuesdayevening.”

Blackwasstraightforwardenoughoverthematter.“Yes, I did tell them that story now that I come to think of it. Chap shot

himself on a farm out there. Did it with a rook rifle through the roof of themouth,bullet lodged in thebrain.Doctorswerenoendpuzzledover it—therewasnothingtoshowexceptalittlebloodonthelips.Butwhat—?”

“WhathasitgottodowithMr.Maltravers?Youdidnotknow,Isee,thathewasfoundwitharookriflebyhisside.”

“Youmeanmystorysuggestedtohim—oh,butthatisawful!”

“Donotdistressyourself—itwouldhavebeenonewayoranother.Well, ImustgetonthetelephonetoLondon.”

Poirothadalengthyconversationoverthewire,andcamebackthoughtful.Hewentoffbyhimselfintheafternoon,anditwasnottillseveno’clockthatheannounced that he could put it off no longer, butmust break the news to theyoungwidow.Mysympathyhadalreadygoneouttoherunreservedly.Tobeleftpenniless,andwiththeknowledgethatherhusbandhadkilledhimselftoassureherfuture,wasahardburdenforanywomantobear.Icherishedasecrethope,however, thatyoungBlackmightprovecapableofconsolingherafterherfirstgriefhadpassed.Heevidentlyadmiredherenormously.

Ourinterviewwiththeladywaspainful.SherefusedvehementlytobelievethefactsthatPoirotadvanced,andwhenshewasatlastconvincedbrokedowninto bitter weeping. An examination of the body turned our suspicions intocertainty.Poirotwasverysorryforthepoorlady,but,afterall,hewasemployedbytheInsuranceCompany,andwhatcouldhedo?AshewaspreparingtoleavehesaidgentlytoMrs.Maltravers:

“Madame,youofallpeopleshouldknowthattherearenodead!”“Whatdoyoumean?”shefaltered,hereyesgrowingwide.“Have you never taken part in any spiritualistic séances? You are

mediumistic,youknow.”“Ihavebeentoldso.ButyoudonotbelieveinSpiritualism,surely?”“Madame,Ihaveseensomestrangethings.Youknowthat theysayin the

villagethatthishouseishaunted?”Shenodded,andatthatmomenttheparlourmaidannouncedthatdinnerwas

ready.“Won’tyoujuststayandhavesomethingtoeat?”We accepted gracefully, and I felt that our presence could not but help

distractheralittlefromherowngriefs.Wehad just finishedour soup,when therewasa screamoutside thedoor,

andthesoundofbreakingcrockery.Wejumpedup.Theparlourmaidappeared,

herhandtoherheart.“Itwasaman—standinginthepassage.”Poirotrushedout,returningquickly.“Thereisnoonethere.”“Isn’tthere,sir?”saidtheparlourmaidweakly.“Ohitdidgivemeastart!”“Butwhy?”Shedroppedhervoicetoawhisper.“Ithought—Ithoughtitwasthemaster—itlookedlike’im.”I sawMrs.Maltravers give a terrified start, andmymind flew to the old

superstition that a suicide cannot rest. She thought of it too, I am sure, for aminutelater,shecaughtPoirot’sarmwithascream.

“Didn’t you hear that? Those three taps on the window? That’s how healwaysusedtotapwhenhepassedroundthehouse.”

“Theivy,”Icried.“Itwastheivyagainstthepane.”Buta sortof terrorwasgainingonusall.Theparlourmaidwasobviously

unstrung,andwhenthemealwasoverMrs.MaltraversbesoughtPoirotnottogoatonce.Shewasclearly terrified tobe left alone.Wesat in the littlemorningroom. The wind was getting up, and moaning round the house in an eeriefashion.Twicethedooroftheroomcameunlatchedandthedoorslowlyopened,andeachtimesheclungtomewithaterrifiedgasp.

“Ah,but thisdoor, it isbewitched!”criedPoirotangrilyat last.Hegotupandshutitoncemore,thenturnedthekeyinthelock.“Ishalllockit,so!”

“Don’tdothat,”shegasped.“Ifitshouldcomeopennow—”And even as she spoke the impossible happened.The locked door slowly

swungopen.IcouldnotseeintothepassagefromwhereIsat,butsheandPoirotwerefacingit.Shegaveonelongshriekassheturnedtohim.

“Yousawhim—thereinthepassage?”shecried.Hewasstaringdownatherwithapuzzledface,thenshookhishead.“Isawhim—myhusband—youmusthaveseenhimtoo?”“Madame,Isawnothing.Youarenotwell—unstrung—”

“Iamperfectlywell,I—Oh,God!”Suddenly, without warning, the lights quivered and went out. Out of the

darknesscamethreeloudraps.IcouldhearMrs.Maltraversmoaning.Andthen—Isaw!ThemanIhadseenonthebedupstairsstoodtherefacingus,gleamingwith

afaintghostlylight.Therewasbloodonhislips,andheheldhisrighthandout,pointing. Suddenly a brilliant light seemed to proceed from it. It passed overPoirotandme,andfellonMrs.Maltravers. I sawherwhite terrified face,andsomethingelse!

“MyGod,Poirot!”Icried.“Lookatherhand,herrighthand.It’sallred!”Herowneyesfellonit,andshecollapsedinaheaponthefloor.“Blood,”shecriedhysterically.“Yes,it’sblood.Ikilledhim.Ididit.Hewas

showingme,andthenIputmyhandonthetriggerandpressed.Savemefromhim—saveme!He’scomeback!”

Hervoicediedawayinagurgle.“Lights,”saidPoirotbriskly.Thelightswentonasifbymagic.“That’sit,”hecontinued.“Youheard,Hastings?Andyou,Everett?Oh,by

theway,thisisMr.Everett,ratherafinememberofthetheatricalprofession.Iphonedtohimthisafternoon.Hismakeupisgood,isn’tit?Quitelikethedeadman, andwith apocket torchand thenecessaryphosphorescencehemade theproperimpression.Ishouldn’ttouchherrighthandifIwereyou,Hastings.Redpaintmarks so.When the lightswent out I claspedher hand, you see.By theway, wemustn’t miss our train. Inspector Japp is outside the window. A badnight—buthehasbeenabletowhileawaythetimebytappingonthewindoweverynowandthen.”

“You see,” continued Poirot, as we walked briskly through the wind andrain, “therewas a little discrepancy. The doctor seemed to think the deceasedwas a Christian Scientist, andwho could have given him that impression butMrs. Maltravers? But to us she represented him as being in a great state of

apprehensionabouthisownhealth.Again,whywasshesotakenabackbythereappearance of young Black? And lastly although I know that conventiondecreesthatawomanmustmakeadecentpretenceofmourningforherhusband,I do not care for such heavily-rouged eyelids! You did not observe them,Hastings?No?AsIalwaystellyou,youseenothing!

“Well, there it was. There were the two possibilities. Did Black’s storysuggestaningeniousmethodofcommittingsuicidetoMr.Maltravers,ordidhisotherlistener,thewife,seeanequallyingeniousmethodofcommittingmurder?I inclined to the latter view. To shoot himself in theway indicated, hewouldprobablyhavehadtopullthetriggerwithhistoe—oratleastsoIimagine.NowifMaltravershadbeenfoundwithonebootoff,weshouldalmostcertainlyhaveheardofitfromsomeone.Anodddetaillikethatwouldhavebeenremembered.

“No, as I say, I inclined to the view that it was the case of murder, notsuicide,butIrealizedthatIhadnotashadowofproofinsupportofmytheory.Hencetheelaboratelittlecomedyyousawplayedtonight.”

“EvennowIdon’tquiteseeallthedetailsofthecrime,”Isaid.“Let us start from the beginning.Here is a shrewd and schemingwoman

who,knowingofherhusband’s financialdébâcle and tiredof theelderlymateshehadonlymarried for hismoney, induces him to insure his life for a largesum,andthenseeksforthemeanstoaccomplishherpurpose.Anaccidentgivesherthat—theyoungsoldier’sstrangestory.Thenextafternoonwhenmonsieurlecapitaine, as she thinks, ison thehigh seas, she andherhusbandare strollinground the grounds. ‘What a curious story that was last night!’ she observes.‘Couldamanshoothimself insuchaway?Doshowmeif it ispossible!’Thepoorfool—heshowsher.Heplacestheendofhisrifleinhismouth.Shestoopsdown,andputsherfingeronthetrigger,laughingupathim.‘Andnow,sir,’shesayssaucily,‘supposingIpullthetrigger?’

“Andthen—andthen,Hastings—shepullsit!”

Three

THE A DVENTUREOF THEC HEAP F LAT

Sofar,inthecaseswhichIhaverecorded,Poirot’sinvestigationshavestarted

from the central fact, whether murder or robbery, and have proceeded fromthencebyaprocessof logicaldeductionto thefinal triumphantunravelling.IntheeventsIamnowabouttochroniclearemarkablechainofcircumstancesledfromtheapparentlytrivialincidentswhichfirstattractedPoirot’sattentiontothesinisterhappeningswhichcompletedamostunusualcase.

Ihadbeenspendingtheeveningwithanoldfriendofmine,GeraldParker.Therehadbeen,perhaps,abouthalfadozenpeople therebesidesmyhostandmyself,andthetalkfell,asitwasboundtodosoonerorlaterwhereverParkerfoundhimself,onthesubjectofhouse-huntinginLondon.HousesandflatswereParker’sspecialhobby.SincetheendoftheWar,hehadoccupiedatleasthalfadozendifferentflatsandmaisonettes.Nosoonerwashesettledanywherethanhewouldlightunexpectedlyuponanewfind,andwouldforthwithdepartbagandbaggage.Hismoveswerenearlyalwaysaccomplishedataslightpecuniarygain,for he had a shrewd business head, but it was sheer love of the sport thatactuatedhim, andnot a desire tomakemoney at it.We listened toParker forsometimewiththerespectofthenovicefortheexpert.Thenitwasourturn,anda perfect babel of tongues was let loose. Finally the floor was left toMrs.Robinson, a charming littlebridewhowas therewithherhusband. Ihadnevermetthembefore,asRobinsonwasonlyarecentacquaintanceofParker’s.

“Talking of flats,” she said, “have you heard of our piece of luck,Mr.Parker?We’vegotaflat—atlast!InMontaguMansions.”

“Well,”saidParker,“I’vealwayssaidthereareplentyofflats—ataprice!”

“Yes,butthisisn’tataprice.It’sdirtcheap.Eightypoundsayear!”“But—but Montagu Mansions is just off Knightsbridge, isn’t it? Big

handsomebuilding.Orareyoutalkingofapoorrelationofthesamenamestuckintheslumssomewhere?”

“No,it’stheKnightsbridgeone.That’swhatmakesitsowonderful.”“Wonderful is theword! It’sablinkingmiracle.But theremustbeacatch

somewhere.Bigpremium,Isuppose?”“Nopremium!”“Noprem—oh,holdmyhead,somebody!”groanedParker.“Butwe’vegottobuythefurniture,”continuedMrs.Robinson.“Ah!”Parkerbristledup.“Iknewtherewasacatch!”“Forfiftypounds.Andit’sbeautifullyfurnished!”“Igiveitup,”saidParker.“Thepresentoccupantsmustbelunaticswitha

tasteforphilanthropy.”Mrs. Robinson was looking a little troubled. A little pucker appeared

betweenherdaintybrows.“Itisqueer,isn’tit?Youdon’tthinkthat—that—theplaceishaunted?”“Neverheardofahauntedflat,”declaredParkerdecisively.“No-o.” Mrs. Robinson appeared far from convinced. “But there were

severalthingsaboutitallthatstruckmeas—well,queer.”“Forinstance—”Isuggested.“Ah,” said Parker, “our criminal expert’s attention is aroused! Unburden

yourselftohim,Mrs.Robinson.Hastingsisagreatunravellerofmysteries.”Ilaughed,embarrassed,butnotwhollydispleasedwiththerôlethrustupon

me.“Oh, not really queer,CaptainHastings, butwhenwewent to the agents,

Stosser and Paul—we hadn’t tried them before because they only have theexpensive Mayfair flats, but we thought at any rate it would do no harm—everything they offered us was four and five hundred a year, or else hugepremiums,andthen,justasweweregoing,theymentionedthattheyhadaflatat

eighty,butthattheydoubtedifitwouldbeanygoodourgoingthere,becauseithadbeenontheirbookssometimeandtheyhadsentsomanypeopletoseeitthat it was almost sure to be taken—‘snapped up’ as the clerk put it—onlypeople were so tiresome in not letting them know, and then they went onsending,andpeoplegetannoyedatbeingsenttoaplacethathad,perhaps,beenletsometime.”

Mrs.Robinsonpausedforsomemuchneededbreath,andthencontinued:“Wethankedhim,andsaidthatwequiteunderstooditwouldprobablybeno

good,butthatweshouldlikeanorderallthesame—justincase.Andwewentthere straight away in a taxi, for, after all, you never know.No 4was on thesecond floor, and just aswewerewaiting for the lift,ElsieFerguson—she’safriend of mine, Captain Hastings, and they are looking for a flat too—camehurryingdownthestairs.‘Aheadofyouforonce,mydear,’shesaid.‘Butit’snogood.It’salreadylet.’Thatseemedtofinishit,but—well,asJohnsaid,theplacewas very cheap, we could afford to give more, and perhaps if we offered apremium.Ahorridthingtodo,ofcourse,andIfeelquiteashamedoftellingyou,butyouknowwhatflat-huntingis.”

I assuredher that Iwaswell aware that in the struggle forhouseroom thebaser side of humannature frequently triumphedover the higher, and that thewell-knownruleofdogeatdogalwaysapplied.

“Sowewentupand,wouldyoubelieveit,theflatwasn’tletatall.Wewereshown over it by themaid, and thenwe saw themistress, and the thingwassettledthenandthere.Immediatepossessionandfiftypoundsforthefurniture.We signed the agreement next day, and we are to move in tomorrow!”Mrs.Robinsonpausedtriumphantly.

“And what about Mrs. Ferguson?” asked Parker. “Let’s have yourdeductions,Hastings.”

“ ‘Obvious,my dearWatson,’ ” I quoted lightly. “Shewent to thewrongflat.”

“Oh, Captain Hastings, how clever of you!” cried Mrs. Robinson

admiringly.IratherwishedPoirothadbeenthere.SometimesIhavethefeelingthathe

ratherunderestimatesmycapabilities.

IIThe whole thing was rather amusing, and I propounded the thing as a mockproblem to Poirot on the following morning. He seemed interested, andquestionedmerathernarrowlyastotherentsofflatsinvariouslocalities.

“Acuriousstory,”hesaidthoughtfully.“Excuseme,Hastings,Imusttakeashortstroll.”

When he returned, about an hour later, his eyes were gleaming with apeculiarexcitement.Helaidhisstickonthetable,andbrushedthenapofhishatwithhisusualtendercarebeforehespoke.

“Itisaswell,monami,thatwehavenoaffairsofmomentonhand.Wecandevoteourselveswhollytothepresentinvestigation.”

“Whatinvestigationareyoutalkingabout?”“Theremarkablecheapnessofyourfriend,Mrs.Robinson’s,newflat.”“Poirot,youarenotserious!”“Iammostserious.Figuretoyourself,myfriend,thattherealrentofthose

flatsis£350.Ihavejustascertainedthatfromthelandlord’sagents.Andyetthisparticularflatisbeingsubletateightypounds!Why?”

“There must be something wrong with it. Perhaps it is haunted, asMrs.Robinsonsuggested.”

Poirotshookhisheadinadissatisfiedmanner.“Then again how curious it is that her friend tells her the flat is let, and,

whenshegoesup,behold,itisnotsoatall!”“Butsurelyyouagreewithmethattheotherwomanmusthavegonetothe

wrongflat.Thatistheonlypossiblesolution.”“Youmayormaynotberightonthatpoint,Hastings.Thefactstillremains

that numerous other applicants were sent to see it, and yet, in spite of itsremarkablecheapness,itwasstillinthemarketwhenMrs.Robinsonarrived.”

“Thatshowsthattheremustbesomethingwrongaboutit.”“Mrs.Robinsondidnot seem tonotice anything amiss.Very curious, is it

not?Didsheimpressyouasbeingatruthfulwoman,Hastings?”“Shewasadelightfulcreature!”“Evidemment! sincesherendersyou incapableof replying tomyquestion.

Describehertome,then.”“Well,she’stallandfair;herhair’sreallyabeautifulshadeofauburn—”“Alwaysyouhavehadapenchantforauburnhair!”murmuredPoirot.“But

continue.”“Blue eyes and a very nice complexion and—well, that’s all, I think,” I

concludedlamely.“Andherhusband?”“Oh,he’squiteanicefellow—nothingstartling.”“Darkorfair?”“Idon’tknow—betwixtandbetween,andjustanordinarysortofface.”Poirotnodded.“Yes, there are hundreds of these average men—and anyway, you bring

more sympathy and appreciation to your descriptionofwomen.Doyouknowanythingaboutthesepeople?DoesParkerknowthemwell?”

“Theyarejustrecentacquaintances,Ibelieve.Butsurely,Poirot,youdon’tthinkforaninstant—”

Poirotraisedhishand.“Toutdoucement,monami.HaveIsaidthatIthinkanything?AllIsayis—

itisacuriousstory.Andthereisnothingtothrowlightuponit;exceptperhapsthelady’sname,eh,Hastings?”

“HernameisStella,”Isaidstiffly,“butIdon’tsee—”Poirot interruptedmewitha tremendouschuckle.Somethingseemedtobe

amusinghimvastly.

“AndStellameansastar,doesitnot?Famous!”“Whatonearth—?”“Andstarsgivelight!Voilà!Calmyourself,Hastings.Donotputonthatair

of injured dignity. Come, we will go toMontaguMansions and make a fewinquiries.”

Iaccompaniedhim,nothingloath.TheMansionswereahandsomeblockofbuildings in excellent repair. A uniformed porter was sunning himself on thethreshold,anditwastohimthatPoirotaddressedhimself.

“Pardon,butwouldyoutellmeifaMr.andMrs.Robinsonresidehere?”Theporterwasamanoffewwordsandapparentlyofasourorsuspicious

disposition.Hehardlylookedatusandgruntedout:“No4.Secondfloor.”“Ithankyou.Canyoutellmehowlongtheyhavebeen

here?”“Sixmonths.”Istartedforwardinamazement,consciousasIdidsoofPoirot’smalicious

grin.“Impossible,”Icried.“Youmustbemakingamistake.”“Sixmonths.”“Areyousure?TheladyImeanis tallandfairwithreddishgoldhairand

—”“That’s’er,”saidtheporter.“ComeintheMichaelmasquarter,theydid.Just

sixmonthsago.”Heappearedtoloseinterestinusandretreatedslowlyupthehall.Ifollowed

Poirotoutside.“Ehbien,Hastings?”myfrienddemandedslyly.“Areyousosurenowthat

delightfulwomenalwaysspeakthetruth?”Ididnotreply.PoirothadsteeredhiswayintoBromptonRoadbeforeIaskedhimwhathe

wasgoingtodoandwhereweweregoing.

“To the house agents, Hastings. I have a great desire to have a flat inMontaguMansions. If I am not mistaken, several interesting things will takeplacetherebeforelong.”

We were fortunate in our quest. No 8, on the fourth floor, was to be letfurnishedattenguineasaweek,Poirotpromptlytookitforamonth.Outsideinthestreetagain,hesilencedmyprotests:

“ButImakemoneynowadays!WhyshouldInot indulgeawhim?Bytheway,Hastings,haveyouarevolver?”

“Yes—somewhere,”Ianswered,slightlythrilled.“Doyouthink—”“That you will need it? It is quite possible. The idea pleases you, I see.

Alwaysthespectacularandromanticappealstoyou.”The following day saw us installed in our temporary home. The flat was

pleasantlyfurnished.ItoccupiedthesamepositioninthebuildingasthatoftheRobinsons,butwastwofloorshigher.

ThedayafterourinstallationwasaSunday.Intheafternoon,Poirotleftthefront door ajar, and summoned me hastily as a bang reverberated fromsomewherebelow.

“Lookoverthebanisters.Arethoseyourfriends?Donotletthemseeyou.”Icranedmyneckoverthestaircase.“That’sthem,”Ideclaredinanungrammaticalwhisper.“Good.Waitawhile.”About half an hour later, a youngwoman emerged in brilliant and varied

clothing.Withasighofsatisfaction,Poirottiptoedbackintotheflat.“C’estça.Afterthemasterandmistress, themaid.Theflatshouldnowbe

empty.”“Whatarewegoingtodo?”Iaskeduneasily.Poirothadtrottedbrisklyintothesculleryandwashaulingattheropeofthe

coallift.“We are about to descend after themethodof the dustbins,” he explained

cheerfully.“Noonewillobserveus.TheSundayconcert,theSunday‘afternoon

out,’andfinallytheSundaynapaftertheSundaydinnerofEngland—lerosbif—all these will distract attention from the doings of Hercule Poirot. Come, myfriend.”

HesteppedintotheroughwoodencontrivanceandIfollowedhimgingerly.“Arewegoingtobreakintotheflat?”Iaskeddubiously.Poirot’sanswerwasnottooreassuring:“Notpreciselytoday,”hereplied.Pullingontherope,wedescendedslowlytillwereachedthesecondfloor.

Poirot uttered an exclamation of satisfaction as he perceived that the woodendoorintothescullerywasopen.

“You observe? Never do they bolt these doors in the daytime. And yetanyone couldmount or descend as we have done. At night, yes—though notalwaysthen—anditisagainstthatthatwearegoingtomakeprovision.”

Hehaddrawnsometoolsfromhispocketashespoke,andatoncesetdeftlytowork,hisobjectbeingtoarrangetheboltsothatitcouldbepulledbackfromthelift.Theoperationonlyoccupiedaboutthreeminutes.ThenPoirotreturnedthetoolstohispocket,andwereascendedoncemoretoourowndomain.

IIIOnMondayPoirotwasoutallday,butwhenhereturnedintheeveningheflunghimselfintohischairwithasighofsatisfaction.

“Hastings,shallIrecounttoyoualittlehistory?Astoryafteryourownheartandwhichwillremindyouofyourfavouritecinema?”

“Go ahead,” I laughed. “I presume that it is a true story, not one of youreffortsoffancy.”

“It is true enough. Inspector Japp of Scotland Yard will vouch for itsaccuracy, since itwas throughhiskindoffices that it came tomyears.Listen,Hastings.AlittleoversixmonthsagosomeimportantNavalplanswerestolenfromanAmericanGovernmentdepartment.Theyshowedthepositionofsome

ofthemostimportantHarbourdefences,andwouldbeworthaconsiderablesumtoany foreignGovernment—thatof Japan, for example.Suspicion felluponayoungmannamedLuigiValdarno,anItalianbybirth,whowasemployedinaminorcapacityintheDepartmentandwhowasmissingatthesametimeasthepapers.WhetherLuigiValdarnowasthethiefornot,hewasfoundtwodayslaterontheEastSideinNewYork,shotdead.Thepaperswerenotonhim.NowforsometimepastLuigiValdarnohadbeengoingaboutwithaMissElsaHardt,ayoungconcertsingerwhohadrecentlyappearedandwholivedwithabrotherinanapartmentinWashington.NothingwasknownoftheantecedentsofMissElsaHardt,andshedisappearedsuddenlyaboutthetimeofValdarno’sdeath.Thereare reasons for believing that shewas in reality an accomplished internationalspywho has donemuch nefariouswork under various aliases. TheAmericanSecretService,whiledoingtheirbesttotraceher,alsokeptaneyeuponcertaininsignificant Japanesegentlemen living inWashington.They feltprettycertainthat,whenElsaHardt had coveredher tracks sufficiently, shewould approachthe gentlemen in question.One of them left suddenly for England a fortnightago.Onthefaceof it, therefore, itwouldseemthatElsaHardt is inEngland.”Poirotpaused,andthenaddedsoftly:“TheofficialdescriptionofElsaHardtis:Height5ft7,eyesblue,hairauburn,faircomplexion,nosestraight,nospecialdistinguishingmarks.”

“Mrs.Robinson!”Igasped.“Well,thereisachanceofit,anyhow,”amendedPoirot.“AlsoIlearnthata

swarthyman,aforeignerofsomekind,wasinquiringabouttheoccupantsofNo4 only thismorning. Therefore,mon ami, I fear that youmust forswear yourbeautysleeptonight,andjoinmeinmyall-nightvigilinthatflatbelow—armedwiththatexcellentrevolverofyours,bienentendu!”

“Rather,”Icriedwithenthusiasm.“Whenshallwestart?”“Thehourofmidnightisbothsolemnandsuitable,Ifancy.Nothingislikely

tooccurbeforethen.”At twelve o’clock precisely, we crept cautiously into the coal lift and

loweredourselvestothesecondfloor.UnderPoirot’smanipulation,thewoodendoorquicklyswunginwards,andweclimbedintotheflat.Fromthescullerywepassed into the kitchen where we established ourselves comfortably in twochairswiththedoorintothehallajar.

“Nowwehavebuttowait,”saidPoirotcontentedly,closinghiseyes.Tome,thewaitingappearedendless.Iwasterrifiedofgoingtosleep.Just

when it seemed tome that I had been there about eight hours—and had, as Ifound out afterwards, in reality been exactly one hour and twentyminutes—afaintscratchingsoundcametomyears.Poirot’shandtouchedmine.Irose,andtogetherwemovedcarefully in thedirectionof thehall.Thenoisecame fromthere.Poirotplacedhislipstomyear.

“Outsidethefrontdoor.Theyarecuttingoutthelock.WhenIgivetheword,notbefore,falluponhimfrombehindandholdhimfast.Becareful,hewillhaveaknife.”

Presently there was a rending sound, and a little circle of light appearedthroughthedoor.Itwasextinguishedimmediatelyandthenthedoorwasslowlyopened. Poirot and I flattened ourselves against the wall. I heard a man’sbreathingashepassedus.Thenheflashedonhistorch,andashedidso,Poirothissedinmyear:

“Allez.”Wesprangtogether,Poirotwithaquickmovementenvelopedtheintruder’s

headwithalightwoollenscarfwhilstIpinionedhisarms.Thewholeaffairwasquick and noiseless. I twisted a dagger from his hand, and as Poirot broughtdownthescarffromhiseyes,whilstkeepingitwoundtightlyroundhismouth,Ijerkedupmyrevolverwherehecouldseeitandunderstandthatresistancewasuseless.AsheceasedtostrugglePoirotputhismouthclosetohisearandbegantowhisperrapidly.Afteraminutethemannodded.Thenenjoiningsilencewithamovementofthehand,Poirotledthewayoutoftheflatanddownthestairs.Ourcaptivefollowed,andIbroughtuptherearwiththerevolver.Whenwewereout

inthestreet,Poirotturnedtome.“Thereisataxiwaitingjustroundthecorner.Givemetherevolver.Weshall

notneeditnow.”“Butifthisfellowtriestoescape?”Poirotsmiled.“Hewillnot.”I returned inaminutewith thewaiting taxi.The scarfhadbeenunwound

fromthestranger’sface,andIgaveastartofsurprise.“He’snotaJap,”IejaculatedinawhispertoPoirot.“Observationwasalwaysyourstrongpoint,Hastings!Nothingescapesyou.

No,themanisnotaJap.HeisanItalian.”We got into the taxi, and Poirot gave the driver an address in St. John’s

Wood. Iwasbynowcompletelyfogged. Ididnot like toaskPoirotwhereweweregoinginfrontofourcaptive,andstroveinvaintoobtainsomelightupontheproceedings.

We alighted at the door of a small house standing back from the road.Areturningwayfarer,slightlydrunk,waslurchingalongthepavementandalmostcollidedwithPoirot,whosaidsomethingsharplytohimwhichIdidnotcatch.Allthreeofuswentupthestepsofthehouse.Poirotrangthebellandmotionedustostandalittleaside.Therewasnoanswerandherangagainandthenseizedtheknockerwhichhepliedforsomeminutesvigorously.

A light appeared suddenly above the fanlight, and the door openedcautiouslyalittleway.

“Whatthedevildoyouwant?”aman’svoicedemandedharshly.“Iwantthedoctor.Mywifeistakenill.”“There’snodoctorhere.”Themanpreparedtoshutthedoor,butPoirotthrusthisfootinadroitly.He

becamesuddenlyaperfectcaricatureofaninfuriatedFrenchman.“What you say, there is no doctor? Iwill have the law of you.Youmust

come!Iwillstayhereandringandknockallnight.”

“My dear sir—”The doorwas opened again, theman, clad in a dressinggown and slippers, stepped forward to pacify Poirot with an uneasy glanceround.

“Iwillcallthepolice.”Poirotpreparedtodescendthesteps.“No,don’tdothatforHeaven’ssake!”Themandashedafterhim.With a neat push Poirot sent him staggering down the steps. In another

minuteallthreeofuswereinsidethedooranditwaspushedtoandbolted.“Quick—inhere.”Poirotledthewayintothenearestroom,switchingonthe

lightashedidso.“Andyou—behindthecurtain.”“Si,Signor,”said the Italianandslid rapidlybehind the full foldsof rose-

colouredvelvetwhichdrapedtheembrasureofthewindow.Notaminute toosoon.Justashedisappearedfromviewawomanrushed

intotheroom.Shewastallwithreddishhairandheldascarletkimonoroundherslenderform.

“Where ismyhusband?” she cried,with aquick frightenedglance. “Whoareyou?”

Poirotsteppedforwardwithabow.“Itistobehopedyourhusbandwillnotsufferfromachill.Iobservedthat

hehadslippersonhisfeet,andthathisdressinggownwasawarmone.”“Whoareyou?Whatareyoudoinginmyhouse?”“Itistruethatnoneofushavethepleasureofyouracquaintance,madame.

It is especially to be regretted as one of our number has come specially fromNewYorkinordertomeetyou.”

ThecurtainspartedandtheItaliansteppedout.TomyhorrorIobservedthathewas brandishingmy revolver, which Poirotmust doubtless have put downthroughinadvertenceinthecab.

The woman gave a piercing scream and turned to fly, but Poirot wasstandinginfrontofthecloseddoor.

“Letmeby,”sheshrieked.“Hewillmurderme.”

“Who was it dat croaked Luigi Valdarno?” asked the Italian hoarsely,brandishing the weapon, and sweeping each one of us with it.We dared notmove.

“MyGod,Poirot,thisisawful.Whatshallwedo?”Icried.“Youwill obligeme by refraining from talking somuch, Hastings. I can

assureyouthatourfriendwillnotshootuntilIgivetheword.”“Yousesureo’dat,eh?”saidtheItalian,leeringunpleasantly.ItwasmorethanIwas,butthewomanturnedtoPoirotlikeaflash.“Whatisityouwant?”Poirotbowed.“I do not think it is necessary to insultMiss ElsaHardt’s intelligence by

tellingher.”Withaswiftmovement,thewomansnatchedupabigblackvelvetcatwhich

servedasacoverforthetelephone.“Theyarestitchedintheliningofthat.”“Clever,” murmured Poirot appreciatively. He stood aside from the door.

“Good evening,madame. Iwill detainyour friend fromNewYorkwhilst youmakeyourgetaway.”

“Whattafool!”roaredthebigItalian,andraisingtherevolverhefiredpoint-blankatthewoman’sretreatingfigurejustasIflungmyselfuponhim.

But theweaponmerelyclickedharmlesslyandPoirot’svoice rose inmildreproof.

“Neverwillyoutrustyouroldfriend,Hastings.Idonotcareformyfriendsto carry loaded pistols about with them and never would I permit a mereacquaintancetodoso.No,no,monami.”ThistotheItalianwhowasswearinghoarsely.Poirotcontinued toaddresshimina toneofmildreproof:“Seenow,whatIhavedoneforyou.Ihavesavedyoufrombeinghanged.Anddonotthinkthatourbeautifulladywillescape.No,no,thehouseiswatched,backandfront.Straight into the arms of the police they will go. Is not that a beautiful andconsolingthought?Yes,youmayleavetheroomnow.Butbecareful—bevery

careful. I—Ah, he is gone!Andmy friendHastings looks atmewith eyes ofreproach.But it’sall so simple! Itwasclear, from the first, thatoutof severalhundred,probably,applicantsforNo4MontaguMansions,onlytheRobinsonswereconsideredsuitable.Why?Whatwastherethatsingledthemoutfromtherest—at practically a glance. Their appearance? Possibly, but it was not sounusual.Theirname,then!”

“But there’s nothing unusual about the name of Robinson,” I cried. “It’squiteacommonname.”

“Ah!Sapristi,butexactly!Thatwasthepoint.ElsaHardtandherhusband,orbrotherorwhateverhereallyis,comefromNewYork,andtakeaflatinthename ofMr. andMrs.Robinson. Suddenly they learn that one of these secretsocieties, the Mafia, or the Camorra, to which doubtless Luigi Valdarnobelonged, is on their track. What do they do? They hit on a scheme oftransparent simplicity. Evidently they knew that their pursuers were notpersonally acquainted with either of them.What, then, can be simpler? Theyoffer the flat at an absurdly low rental.Of the thousands of young couples inLondonlookingforflats,therecannotfailtobeseveralRobinsons.Itisonlyamatter of waiting. If youwill look at the name of Robinson in the telephonedirectory, youwill realize that a fair-hairedMrs. Robinsonwas pretty sure tocome along sooner or later. Thenwhat will happen? The avenger arrives. Heknows the name, he knows the address. He strikes! All is over, vengeance issatisfied,andMissElsaHardthasescapedby theskinofher teethoncemore.By the way, Hastings, you must present me to the real Mrs. Robinson—thatdelightful and truthful creature!Whatwill they thinkwhen they find their flathas been broken into!Wemust hurry back.Ah, that sounds like Japp and hisfriendsarriving.”

Amightytattoosoundedontheknocker.“Howdoyouknowthisaddress?”IaskedasIfollowedPoirotoutintothe

hall.“Oh,ofcourse,youhadthefirstMrs.Robinsonfollowedwhensheleftthe

otherflat.”“Alabonneheure,Hastings.Youuseyourgreycellsatlast.Nowforalittle

surpriseforJapp.”Softly unbolting the door, he stuck the cat’s head round the edge and

ejaculatedapiercing“Miaow.”TheScotlandYard inspector,whowasstandingoutsidewithanotherman,

jumpedinspiteofhimself.“Oh, it’sonlyMonsieurPoirotatoneofhis little jokes!”heexclaimed,as

Poirot’sheadfollowedthatofthecat.“Letusin,moosior.”“Youhaveourfriendssafeandsound?”“Yes, we’ve got the birds all right. But they hadn’t got the goods with

them.”“Isee.Soyoucometosearch.Well,IamabouttodepartwithHastings,but

I should like to give you a little lecture upon the history and habits of thedomesticcat.”

“FortheLord’ssake,haveyougonecompletelybalmy?”“Thecat,”declaimedPoirot,“wasworshippedbytheancientEgyptians.Itis

stillregardedasasymbolofgoodluckifablackcatcrossesyourpath.Thiscatcrossedyourpath tonight, Japp.To speakof the interiorof anyanimalor anypersonisnot.Iknow,consideredpoliteinEngland.Buttheinteriorofthiscatisperfectlydelicate.Irefertothelining.”

Withasuddengrunt,thesecondmanseizedthecatfromPoirot’shand.“Oh, I forgot to introduceyou,”saidJapp.“Mr.Poirot, this isMr.Burtof

theUnitedStatesSecretService.”TheAmerican’s trained fingers had feltwhat hewas looking for.Heheld

outhishand,andforamomentspeechfailedhim.Thenherosetotheoccasion.“Pleasedtomeetyou,”saidMr.Burt.

“

Four

THE M YSTERYOFH UNTER’S L ODGE

Afterall,”murmuredPoirot,“itispossiblethatIshallnotdiethistime.”

Coming from a convalescent influenza patient, I hailed the remark asshowing a beneficial optimism. I myself had been the first sufferer from thedisease.Poirotinhisturnhadgonedown.Hewasnowsittingupinbed,proppedupwithpillows,hisheadmuffledinawoollenshawl,andwasslowlysippingaparticularlynoxioustisanewhichIhadpreparedaccordingtohisdirections.Hiseyerestedwithpleasureuponaneatlygraduatedrowofmedicinebottleswhichadornedthemantelpiece.

“Yes,yes,”mylittlefriendcontinued.“OncemoreshallIbemyselfagain,thegreatHerculePoirot,theterrorofevildoers!Figuretoyourself,monami,thatIhavealittleparagraphtomyselfinSocietyGossip.Butyes!Hereitis:‘Goit—criminals—allout!HerculePoirot—andbelieveme,girls,he’ssomeHercules!—our own pet society detective can’t get a grip on you. ’Causewhy? ’Causehe’sgotlagrippehimself!’”

Ilaughed.“Good for you, Poirot. You are becoming quite a public character. And

fortunatelyyouhaven’tmissedanythingofparticularinterestduringthistime.”“Thatistrue.ThefewcasesIhavehadtodeclinedidnotfillmewithany

regret.”Ourlandladystuckherheadinatthedoor.“There’sagentlemandownstairs.SayshemustseeMonsieurPoirotoryou,

Captain.Seeingashewasinagreatto-do—andwithallthatquitethegentleman—Ibroughtup’iscard.”

Shehandedmeabitofpasteboard.“Mr.RogerHavering,”Iread.Poirotmotionedwithhisheadtowardsthebookcase,andIobedientlypulled

forthWho’sWho.Poirottookitfrommeandscannedthepagesrapidly.“SecondsonoffifthBaronWindsor.Married1913Zoe,fourthdaughterof

WilliamCrabb.”“H’m!”Isaid.“Iratherfancythat’sthegirlwhousedtoactattheFrivolity

—onlyshecalledherselfZoeCarrisbrook.IremembershemarriedsomeyoungmanabouttownjustbeforetheWar.”

“Would it interest you, Hastings, to go down and hear what our visitor’sparticularlittletroubleis?Makehimallmyexcuses.”

Roger Havering was a man of about forty, well set up and of smartappearance. His face, however, was haggard, and he was evidently labouringundergreatagitation.

“Captain Hastings? You areMonsieur Poirot’s partner, I understand. It isimperativethatheshouldcomewithmetoDerbyshiretoday.”

“I’mafraidthat’simpossible,”Ireplied.“Poirotisillinbed—influenza.”

Hisfacefell.“Dearme,thatisagreatblowtome.”“Thematteronwhichyouwanttoconsulthimisserious?”“MyGod, yes!My uncle, the best friend I have in theworld,was foully

murderedlastnight.”“HereinLondon?”“No, inDerbyshire. Iwas in town and received a telegram frommywife

thismorning.ImmediatelyuponitsreceiptIdeterminedtocomeroundandbegMonsieurPoirottoundertakethecase.”

“Ifyouwillexcusemeaminute,”Isaid,struckbyasuddenidea.I rushed upstairs, and in a few brief words acquainted Poirot with the

situation.Hetookanyfurtherwordsoutofmymouth.

“I see. I see. You want to go yourself, is it not so?Well, why not? Youshouldknowmymethodsbynow.AllIaskisthatyoushouldreporttomefullyeveryday,andfollowimplicitlyanyinstructionsImaywireyou.”

TothisIwillinglyagreed.

IIAnhourlaterIwassittingoppositeMr.Haveringinafirst-classcarriageontheMidlandRailway,speedingrapidlyawayfromLondon.

“Tobeginwith,CaptainHastings,youmustunderstandthatHunter’sLodge,wherewearegoing,andwherethetragedytookplace,isonlyasmallshootingboxintheheartoftheDerbyshiremoors.OurrealhomeisnearNewmarket,andweusuallyrentaflatintownfortheseason.Hunter’sLodgeislookedafterbyahousekeeperwhoisquitecapableofdoingallweneedwhenwerundownforanoccasionalweekend.Ofcourse,duringtheshootingseason,wetakedownsomeofourownservants fromNewmarket.Myuncle,Mr.HarringtonPace (asyoumay know,mymotherwas aMiss Pace ofNewYork), has, for the last threeyears,madehishomewithus.Henevergotonwellwithmyfather,ormyelderbrother,andIsuspect thatmybeingsomewhatofaprodigalsonmyself ratherincreasedthandiminishedhisaffectiontowardsme.OfcourseIamapoorman,andmyunclewas a rich one—inotherwords, he paid the piper!But, thoughexactinginmanyways,hewasnotreallyhardtogetonwith,andweall threelivedveryharmoniouslytogether.Twodaysago,myuncle,ratherweariedwithsome recent gaieties of ours in town, suggested that we should run down toDerbyshire for a day or two. My wife telegraphed to Mrs. Middleton, thehousekeeper,andwewentdownthatsameafternoon.YesterdayeveningIwasforcedtoreturntotown,butmywifeandmyuncleremainedon.ThismorningIreceivedthistelegram.”Hehandeditovertome:

“ComeatonceuncleHarringtonmurderedlastnightbringgood

detectiveifyoucanbutdocome—Zoe.”

“Then,asyetyouknownodetails?”“No,Isupposeitwillbeintheeveningpapers.Withoutdoubtthepoliceare

incharge.”Itwasabout threeo’clockwhenwearrivedat the little stationofElmer’s

Dale.Fromthereafive-miledrivebroughtustoasmallgreystonebuildinginthemidstoftheruggedmoors.

“Alonelyplace,”Iobservedwithashiver.Haveringnodded.“Ishalltryandgetridofit.Icouldneverlivehereagain.”Weunlatchedthegateandwerewalkingupthenarrowpathtotheoakdoor

whenafamiliarfigureemergedandcametomeetus.“Japp!”Iejaculated.The Scotland Yard inspector grinned at me in a friendly fashion before

addressingmycompanion.“Mr.Havering,Ithink?I’vebeensentdownfromLondontotakechargeof

thiscase,andI’dlikeawordwithyou,ifImay,sir.”“Mywife—”“I’ve seen your good lady, sir—and the housekeeper. Iwon’t keep you a

moment,butIamanxioustogetbacktothevillagenowthatI’veseenallthereistoseehere.”

“Iknownothingasyetastowhat—”“Ex-actly,”saidJappsoothingly.“Buttherearejustoneortwolittlepoints

I’d likeyouropinionaboutall thesame.CaptainHastingshere,heknowsme,and he’ll go on up to the house and tell themyou’re coming.What have youdonewiththelittleman,bytheway,CaptainHastings?”

“He’sillinbedwithinfluenza.”“Ishenow?I’msorry tohear that.Rather thecaseof thecartwithout the

horse,youbeingherewithouthim,isn’tit?”

Andonhis rather ill-timed jest Iwenton to thehouse. I rang thebell, asJapphadclosedthedoorbehindhim.Aftersomemomentsitwasopenedtomebyamiddle-agedwomaninblack.

“Mr. Havering will be here in a moment,” I explained. “He has beendetainedbytheinspector.IhavecomedownwithhimfromLondontolookintothecase.Perhapsyoucantellmebrieflywhatoccurredlastnight.”

“Come inside, sir.” She closed the door behind me, and we stood in thedimly-lighted hall. “It was after dinner last night, sir, that the man came. HeaskedtoseeMr.Pace,sir,and,seeingthathespokethesameway,IthoughtitwasanAmericangentlemanfriendofMr.Pace’sandIshowedhimintothegunroom, and thenwent to tellMr. Pace.Hewouldn’t give any name,which, ofcourse,wasabitodd,nowIcometothinkofit.ItoldMr.Pace,andheseemedpuzzledlike,buthesaidtothemistress:‘Excuseme,Zoe,whileIseewhatthisfellowwants.’Hewentofftothegunroom,andIwentbacktothekitchen,butafterawhileIheardloudvoices,asiftheywerequarrelling,andIcameoutintothehall.At the same time, themistress shecomesout too,and just then therewasashotandthenadreadfulsilence.Webothrantothegunroomdoor,butitwaslockedandwehadtogoroundtothewindow.Itwasopen,andthereinsidewasMr.Pace,allshotandbleeding.”

“Whatbecameoftheman?”“Hemusthavegotawaythroughthewindow,sir,beforewegottoit.”“Andthen?”“Mrs.Haveringsentmetofetchthepolice.Fivemilestowalkitwas.They

camebackwithme,andtheconstablehestayedallnight,andthismorningthepolicegentlemanfromLondonarrived.”

“WhatwasthismanlikewhocalledtoseeMr.Pace?”Thehousekeeperreflected.“Hehadablackbeard,sir,andwasaboutmiddle-aged,andhadonalight

overcoat.Beyondthefact thathespokelikeanAmericanIdidn’tnoticemuchabouthim.”

“Isee.NowIwonderifIcanseeMrs.Havering?”“She’supstairs,sir.ShallItellher?”“Ifyouplease.TellherthatMr.HaveringisoutsidewithInspectorJapp,and

that the gentleman he has brought back with him from London is anxious tospeaktoherassoonaspossible.”

“Verygood,sir.”Iwas in a fever of impatience to get all the facts. Japp had two or three

hours’startonme,andhisanxietytobegonemademekeentobecloseathisheels.

Mrs.Havering did not keepmewaiting long. In a fewminutes I heard alight step descending the stairs, and looked up to see a very handsomeyoungwomancomingtowardsme.Sheworeaflame-colouredjumper,thatsetofftheslender boyishness of her figure. On her dark head was a little hat of flame-coloured leather. Even the present tragedy could not dim the vitality of herpersonality.

Iintroducedmyself,andshenoddedinquickcomprehension.“OfcourseIhaveoftenheardofyouandyourcolleague,MonsieurPoirot.

Youhavedonesomewonderfulthingstogether,haven’tyou?Itwasverycleverofmyhusbandtogetyousopromptly.Nowwillyouaskmequestions?Thatistheeasiestway, isn’t it,ofgetting toknowallyouwant toabout thisdreadfulaffair?”

“Thankyou,Mrs.Havering.Nowwhattimewasitthatthismanarrived?”“Itmust have been just before nine o’clock.We had finished dinner, and

weresittingoverourcoffeeandcigarettes.”“YourhusbandhadalreadyleftforLondon?”“Yes,hewentupbythe6:15.”“Didhegobycartothestation,ordidhewalk?”“Our own car isn’t down here.One came out from the garage inElmer’s

Daletofetchhimintimeforthetrain.”“WasMr.Pacequitehisusualself?”

“Absolutely.Mostnormalineveryway.”“Now,canyoudescribethisvisitoratall?”“I’mafraidnot.Ididn’tseehim.Mrs.Middletonshowedhimstraightinto

thegunroomandthencametotellmyuncle.”“Whatdidyourunclesay?”“Heseemedratherannoyed,butwentoffatonce.Itwasaboutfiveminutes

later that Iheard the soundof raisedvoices. I ranout into thehall andalmostcollidedwithMrs.Middleton.Thenweheardtheshot.Thegunroomdoorwaslockedontheinside,andwehadtogorightroundthehousetothewindow.Ofcoursethattooksometime,andthemurdererhadbeenabletogetwellaway.Mypooruncle”—hervoicefaltered—“hadbeenshotthroughthehead.Isawatoncethat hewasdead. I sentMrs.Middleton for the police, Iwas careful to touchnothingintheroombuttoleaveitexactlyasIfoundit.”

Inoddedapproval.“Now,astotheweapon?”“Well,Icanmakeaguessatit,CaptainHastings.Apairofrevolversofmy

husband’sweremountedupon thewall.Oneof themismissing. Ipointed thisouttothepolice,andtheytooktheotheroneawaywiththem.Whentheyhaveextractedthebullet,Isupposetheywillknowforcertain.”

“MayIgotothegunroom?”“Certainly. The police have finished with it. But the body has been

removed.”Sheaccompaniedme to the sceneof the crime.At thatmomentHavering

entered the hall, and with a quick apology his wife ran to him. I was left toundertakemyinvestigationsalone.

I may as well confess at once that they were rather disappointing. Indetectivenovelscluesabound,buthereIcouldfindnothingthatstruckmeasoutoftheordinaryexceptalargebloodstainonthecarpetwhereIjudgedthedeadmanhadfallen.IexaminedeverythingwithpainstakingcareandtookacoupleofpicturesoftheroomwithmylittlecamerawhichIhadbroughtwithme.Ialso

examined the ground outside the window, but it appeared to have been soheavilytrampledunderfootthatIjudgeditwasuselesstowastetimeoverit.No,Ihadseenall thatHunter’sLodgehadtoshowme.ImustgobacktoElmer’sDaleandget into touchwithJapp.Accordingly I took leaveof theHaverings,andwasdrivenoffinthecarthathadbroughtusfromthestation.

IfoundJappattheMatlockArmsandhetookmeforthwithtoseethebody.Harrington Pacewas a small, spare, clean-shavenman, typicallyAmerican inappearance.Hehadbeenshotthroughthebackofthehead,andtherevolverhadbeendischargedatclosequarters.

“Turned away for a moment,” remarked Japp, “and the other fellowsnatcheduparevolverandshothim.TheoneMrs.HaveringhandedovertouswasfullyloadedandIsupposetheotheronewasalso.Curiouswhatdarnfoolthingspeopledo.Fancykeepingtwoloadedrevolvershanginguponyourwall.”

“Whatdoyouthinkofthecase?”Iasked,asweleftthegruesomechamberbehindus.

“Well, I’d gotmy eye onHavering to beginwith. Oh, yes!”—notingmyexclamationof astonishment. “Haveringhasoneor two shady incidents inhispast.When hewas a boy atOxford therewas some funny business about thesignature on one of his father’s cheques.All hushed up of course. Then, he’sprettyheavilyindebtnow,andthey’rethekindofdebtshewouldn’tliketogotohisuncleabout,whereasyoumaybesuretheuncle’swillwouldbeinhisfavour.Yes,I’dgotmyeyeonhim,andthat’swhyIwantedtospeaktohimbeforehesawhiswife,buttheirstatementsdovetailallright,andI’vebeentothestationandthere’snodoubtwhatever thatheleftbythe6:15.ThatgetsuptoLondonabout 10:30.Hewent straight to his club, he says, and if that’s confirmed allright—why,hecouldn’thavebeenshootinghisunclehereatnineo’clock inablackbeard!”

“Ah,yes,Iwasgoingtoaskyouwhatyouthoughtaboutthatbeard?”Jappwinked.“I think it grew pretty fast—grew in the fivemiles fromElmer’sDale to

Hunter’s Lodge. Americans that I’ve met are mostly clean-shaven. Yes, it’samongst Mr. Pace’s American associates that we’ll have to look for themurderer. I questioned the housekeeper first, and then her mistress, and theirstories agree all right, but I’m sorry Mrs. Havering didn’t get a look at thefellow.She’sasmartwoman,andshemighthavenoticedsomethingthatwouldsetusonthetrack.”

IsatdownandwroteaminuteandlengthyaccounttoPoirot.IwasabletoaddvariousfurtheritemsofinformationbeforeIpostedtheletter.

The bullet had been extracted andwas proved to have been fired from arevolveridenticalwiththeoneheldbythepolice.Furthermore,Mr.Havering’smovementsonthenight inquestionhadbeencheckedandverified,anditwasproved beyond doubt that he had actually arrived in London by the train inquestion. And, thirdly, a sensational development had occurred. A citygentleman, living at Ealing, on crossing Haven Green to get to the DistrictRailwayStationthatmorning,hadobservedabrown-paperparcelstuckbetweenthe railings. Opening it, he found that it contained a revolver. He handed theparcelover tothelocalpolicestation,andbeforenight itwasprovedtobetheonewewere in search of, the fellow to that given us byMrs.Havering.Onebullethadbeenfiredfromit.

All this I added tomy report.Awire fromPoirot arrivedwhilst Iwas atbreakfastthefollowingmorning:

“Ofcourseblack-beardedmanwasnotHaveringonlyyouorJappwouldhavesuchanideawiremedescriptionofhousekeeperandwhatclothessheworethismorningsameofMrs.Haveringdonotwastetimetakingphotographsofinteriorstheyareunderexposedandnotintheleastartistic.”

ItseemedtomethatPoirot’sstylewasunnecessarilyfacetious.Ialsofanciedhe

wasashade jealousofmypositionon thespotwithfull facilities forhandlingthe case.His request for a description of the clothesworn by the twowomenappearedtometobesimplyridiculous,butIcompliedaswellasI,amereman,wasableto.

AtelevenareplywirecamefromPoirot:

“AdviseJapparresthousekeeperbeforeitistoolate.”

Dumbfounded,ItookthewiretoJapp.Hesworesoftlyunderhisbreath.“He’sthegoods,MonsieurPoirot:ifhesaysso,there’ssomethinginit.And

Ihardlynoticedthewoman.Idon’tknowthatIcangosofarasarrestingher,butI’llhaveherwatched.We’llgouprightaway,andtakeanotherlookather.”

Butitwastoolate,Mrs.Middleton,thatquietmiddle-agedwoman,whohadappearedsonormalandrespectable,hadvanishedintothinair.Herboxhadbeenleftbehind.Itcontainedonlyordinarywearingapparel.Therewasnocluetoheridentity,orastoherwhereabouts.

FromMrs.Haveringweelicitedallthefactswecould:“I engaged her about three weeks ago when Mrs. Emery, our former

housekeeper, left. She came to me from Mrs. Selbourne’s Agency in MountStreet—a verywell-known place. I get allmy servants from there. They sentseveralwomentoseeme,butthisMrs.Middletonseemedmuchthenicest,andhadsplendidreferences. Iengagedheron thespot,andnotified theAgencyofthefact.Ican’tbelievethattherewasanythingwrongwithher.Shewassuchanicequietwoman.”

The thing was certainly a mystery. Whilst it was clear that the womanherselfcouldnothavecommitted thecrime, sinceat themoment theshotwasfiredMrs.Haveringwaswithher in thehall,neverthelessshemusthavesomeconnectionwith themurder,orwhyshouldshesuddenly take toherheelsandbolt?

IwiredthelatestdevelopmenttoPoirotandsuggestedreturningtoLondon

andmakinginquiriesatSelbourne’sAgency.Poirot’sreplywasprompt:

“Uselesstoinquireatagencytheywillneverhaveheardofherfindoutwhatvehicletookheruptohunterslodgewhenshefirstarrivedthere.”

Thoughmystified,Iwasobedient.ThemeansoftransportinElmer’sDalewerelimited.ThelocalgaragehadtwobatteredFordcars,andthereweretwostationflies.Noneofthesehadbeenrequisitionedonthedateinquestion.Questioned,Mrs.HaveringexplainedthatshehadgiventhewomanthemoneyforherfaredowntoDerbyshireandsufficienttohireacarorflytotakeheruptoHunter’sLodge.Therewas usually one of theFords at the station on the chance of itsbeing required. Taking into consideration the further fact that nobody at thestationhadnoticedthearrivalofastranger,black-beardedorotherwise,onthefatalevening,everythingseemedtopointtotheconclusionthatthemurdererhadcometothespotinacar,whichhadbeenwaitingnearathandtoaidhisescape,andthatthesamecarhadbroughtthemysterioushousekeepertohernewpost.Imay mention that inquiries at the Agency in London bore out Poirot’sprognostication.No suchwoman as “Mrs.Middleton” had ever been on theirbooks. They had received the Hon. Mrs. Havering’s application for ahousekeeper, and had sent her various applicants for the post.When she sentthem the engagement fee, she omitted to mention which woman she hadselected.

Somewhatcrestfallen,IreturnedtoLondon.IfoundPoirotestablishedinanarmchairby thefire inagarish,silkdressinggown.Hegreetedmewithmuchaffection.

“MonamiHastings!ButhowgladIamtoseeyou.VeritablyIhaveforyouagreataffection!Andyouhaveenjoyedyourself?YouhaveruntoandfrowiththegoodJapp?Youhaveinterrogatedandinvestigatedtoyourheart’scontent?”

“Poirot,”Icried,“thething’sadarkmystery!Itwillneverbesolved.”“Itistruethatwearenotlikelytocoverourselveswithgloryoverit.”“No,indeed.It’sahardnuttocrack.”“Oh, as far as that goes, I amverygood at cracking thenuts!Averitable

squirrel! It is not thatwhich embarrassesme. I knowwell enoughwho killedMr.HarringtonPace.”

“Youknow?Howdidyoufindout?”“Your illuminating answers to my wires supplied me with the truth. See

here, Hastings, let us examine the facts methodically and in order.Mr.HarringtonPaceisamanwithaconsiderablefortunewhichathisdeathwilldoubtlesspasstohisnephew.PointNo1.Hisnephewisknowntobedesperatelyhardup.PointNo2.Hisnephew isalsoknown tobe—shallwesayamanofratherloosemoralfibre?PointNo3.”

“ButRogerHaveringisprovedtohavejourneyedstraightuptoLondon.”“Précisément—andtherefore,asMr.HaveringleftElmer’sDaleat6:15,and

sinceMr.Pacecannothavebeenkilledbeforeheleft,orthedoctorwouldhavespotted the time of the crime as being given wrongly when he examined thebody,weconcludequiterightly,thatMr.Haveringdidnotshoothisuncle.ButthereisaMrs.Havering,Hastings.”

“Impossible!Thehousekeeperwaswithherwhentheshotwasfired.”“Ah,yes,thehousekeeper.Butshehasdisappeared.”“Shewillbefound.”“I thinknot.There issomethingpeculiarlyelusiveabout thathousekeeper,

don’tyouthinkso,Hastings?Itstruckmeatonce.”“Sheplayedherpart,Isuppose,andthengotoutinthenickoftime.”“Andwhatwasherpart?”“Well,presumablytoadmitherconfederate,theblack-

beardedman.”“Oh,no,thatwasnotherpart!Herpartwaswhatyouhavejustmentioned,

toprovideanalibiforMrs.Haveringatthemomenttheshotwasfired.Andno

onewill ever findher,monami, because shedoesnot exist! ‘There’s no suchperson,’asyoursogreatShakespearesays.”

“ItwasDickens,”Imurmured,unabletosuppressasmile.“Butwhatdoyoumean,Poirot?”

“ImeanthatZoeHaveringwasanactressbeforehermarriage,thatyouandJapponlysawthehousekeeperinadarkhall,adimmiddle-agedfigureinblackwitha faintsubduedvoice,and finally thatneitheryounorJapp,nor the localpolicewhomthehousekeeperfetched,eversawMrs.Middletonandhermistressatoneandthesametime.Itwaschild’splayforthatcleveranddaringwoman.On thepretextof summoninghermistress, she runsupstairs, slipson abrightjumperandahatwithblackcurlsattachedwhichshejamsdownoverthegreytransformation.Afewdefttouches,andthemakeupisremoved,aslightdustingof rouge, and the brilliant Zoe Havering comes down with her clear ringingvoice.Nobodylooksparticularlyatthehousekeeper.Whyshouldthey?Thereisnothingtoconnectherwiththecrime.She,too,hasanalibi.”

“But therevolver thatwasfoundatEaling?Mrs.Haveringcouldnothaveplaceditthere?”

“No, thatwasRogerHavering’s job—but itwasamistakeontheirpart. Itputme on the right track.Amanwho has committedmurderwith a revolverwhichhefoundonthespotwouldflingitawayatonce,hewouldnotcarryituptoLondonwithhim.No,themotivewasclear,thecriminalswishedtofocustheinterestofthepoliceonaspotfarremovedfromDerbyshire,theywereanxioustogetthepoliceawayassoonaspossiblefromthevicinityofHunter’sLodge.OfcoursetherevolverfoundatEalingwasnottheonewithwhichMr.Pacewasshot.RogerHaveringdischargedoneshotfromit,broughtituptoLondon,wentstraighttohisclubtoestablishhisalibi,thenwentquicklyouttoEalingbytheDistrict,amatterofabout twentyminutesonly,placed theparcelwhere itwasfound and so back to town. That charming creature, his wife, quietly shootsMr. Pace after dinner—you remember he was shot from behind? Anothersignificant point, that!—reloads the revolver and puts it back in its place, and

thenstartsoffwithherdesperatelittlecomedy.”“It’sincredible,”Imuttered,fascinated,“andyet—”“Andyetitistrue.Biensur,myfriend,itistrue.Buttobringthatprecious

pair to justice, that isanothermatter.Well, Jappmustdowhathecan—Ihavewrittenhim fully—but I verymuch fear,Hastings, thatwe shall beobliged toleavethemtoFate,orlebonDieu,whicheveryouprefer.”

“Thewickedflourishlikeagreenbaytree,”Iremindedhim.“Butataprice,Hastings,alwaysataprice,croyez-moi!”Poirot’sforebodingswereconfirmed,Japp,thoughconvincedofthetruthof

his theory, was unable to get together the necessary evidence to ensure aconviction.

Mr. Pace’s huge fortune passed into the hands of his murderers.Nevertheless,Nemesisdidovertakethem,andwhenIreadinthepaperthattheHon.RogerandMrs.HaveringwereamongstthosekilledinthecrashingoftheAirMailtoParisIknewthatJusticewassatisfied.

“

Five

THE M ILL ION D OLLAR B OND R OBBERY

What a number of bond robberies there have been lately!” I observed one

morning, laying aside the newspaper. “Poirot, let us forsake the science ofdetection,andtaketocrimeinstead!”

“Youareonthe—howdoyousayit?—get-rich-quicktack,eh,monami?”“Well, look at this last coup, themillion dollars’ worth of Liberty Bonds

which the London and Scottish Bank were sending to New York, and whichdisappearedinsucharemarkablemanneronboardtheOlympia.”

“If it were not for mal de mer, and the difficulty of practising the soexcellentmethodofLaverguierforalongertimethanthefewhoursofcrossingthe Channel, I should delight to voyage myself on one of these big liners,”murmuredPoirotdreamily.

“Yes, indeed,” I said enthusiastically. “Some of them must be perfectpalaces; the swimming baths, the lounges, the restaurant, the palm courts—really,itmustbehardtobelievethatoneisonthesea.”

“Me,IalwaysknowwhenIamonthesea,”saidPoirotsadly.“Andallthosebagatellesthatyouenumerate,theysaynothingtome;but,myfriend,considerfor a moment the genuises that travel as it were incognito! On board thesefloatingpalaces,asyousojustlycallthem,onewouldmeettheélite,thehautenoblesseofthecriminalworld!”

Ilaughed.“So that’s the way your enthusiasm runs! Youwould have liked to cross

swordswiththemanwhosneakedtheLibertyBonds?”Thelandladyinterruptedus.

“Ayoungladyaswantstoseeyou,Mr.Poirot.Here’shercard.”Thecardboretheinscription:MissEsméeFarquhar,andPoirot,afterdiving

under the table to retrieve a stray crumb, and putting it carefully in thewastepaperbasket,noddedtothelandladytoadmither.

In another minute one of the most charming girls I have ever seen wasusheredintotheroom.Shewasperhapsaboutfive-and-twenty,withbigbrowneyes and a perfect figure. She was well-dressed and perfectly composed inmanner.

“Sitdown,Ibegofyou,mademoiselle.Thisismyfriend,CaptainHastings,whoaidsmeinmylittleproblems.”

“IamafraiditisabigproblemIhavebroughtyoutoday,MonsieurPoirot,”said the girl, givingme a pleasant bow as she seated herself. “I dare say youhavereadaboutitinthepapers.IamreferringtothetheftofLibertyBondsontheOlympia.”Someastonishmentmusthaveshown itselfonPoirot’s face, forshecontinuedquickly:“YouaredoubtlessaskingyourselfwhathaveItodowithagraveinstitutionliketheLondonandScottishBank.Inonesensenothing, inanothersenseeverything.Yousee,MonsieurPoirot,IamengagedtoMr.PhilipRidgeway.”

“Aha!andMr.PhilipRidgeway—”“Was in charge of the bondswhen theywere stolen.Of course no actual

blamecanattachtohim,itwasnothisfaultinanyway.Nevertheless,heishalfdistraughtoverthematter,andhisuncle,Iknow,insiststhathemustcarelesslyhave mentioned having them in his possession. It is a terrible setback to hiscareer.”

“Whoishisuncle?”“Mr.Vavasour,jointgeneralmanageroftheLondonandScottishBank.”“Suppose,MissFarquhar,thatyourecounttomethewholestory?”“Very well. As you know, the Bank wished to extend their credits in

America,andforthispurposedecidedtosendoveramilliondollarsinLibertyBonds.Mr.Vavasourselectedhisnephew,whohadoccupiedapositionoftrust

in theBankformanyyearsandwhowasconversantwithall thedetailsof theBank’s dealings in New York, to make the trip. The Olympia sailed fromLiverpoolonthe23rd,andthebondswerehandedovertoPhiliponthemorningofthatdaybyMr.VavasourandMr.Shaw,thetwojointgeneralmanagersoftheLondon and Scottish Bank. They were counted, enclosed in a package, andsealed in his presence, and he then locked the package at once in hisportmanteau.”

“Aportmanteauwithanordinarylock?”“No,Mr.ShawinsistedonaspeciallockbeingfittedtoitbyHubbs.Philip,

asIsay,placedthepackageatthebottomofthetrunk.ItwasstolenjustafewhoursbeforereachingNewYork.Arigoroussearchofthewholeshipwasmade,butwithoutresult.Thebondsseemedliterallytohavevanishedintothinair.”

Poirotmadeagrimace.“But they did not vanish absolutely, since I gather that theywere sold in

small parcels within half an hour of the docking of the Olympia! Well,undoubtedlythenextthingisformetoseeMr.Ridgeway.”

“I was about to suggest that you should lunch with me at the ‘CheshireCheese.’ Philipwill be there.He ismeetingme, but does not yet know that Ihavebeenconsultingyouonhisbehalf.”

Weagreedtothissuggestionreadilyenough,anddrovethereinataxi.Mr.PhilipRidgewaywastherebeforeus,andlookedsomewhatsurprisedto

see his fiancée arriving with two complete strangers. He was a nice lookingyoungfellow,tallandspruce,withatouchofgreyinghairatthetemples,thoughhecouldnothavebeenmuchoverthirty.

MissFarquharwentuptohimandlaidherhandonhisarm.“Youmustforgivemeactingwithoutconsultingyou,Philip,”shesaid.“Let

me introduce you toMonsieurHercule Poirot, ofwhom youmust often haveheard,andhisfriend,CaptainHastings.”

Ridgewaylookedveryastonished.“Of course I have heard of you, Monsieur Poirot,” he said, as he shook

hands.“ButIhadnoideathatEsméewasthinkingofconsultingyouaboutmy—ourtrouble.”

“I was afraid you would not let me do it, Philip,” said Miss Farquharmeekly.

“Soyoutookcaretobeonthesafeside,”heobserved,withasmile.“IhopeMonsieurPoirotwillbeable to throwsome lighton thisextraordinarypuzzle,for I confess frankly that I amnearlyoutofmymindwithworry andanxietyaboutit.”

Indeed,hisfacelookeddrawnandhaggardandshowedonlytooclearlythestrainunderwhichhewaslabouring.

“Well, well,” said Poirot. “Let us lunch, and over lunch we will put ourheads togetherandseewhatcanbedone. Iwant tohearMr.Ridgeway’sstoryfromhisownlips.”

Whilst we discussed the excellent steak and kidney pudding of theestablishment, Philip Ridgeway narrated the circumstances leading to thedisappearanceofthebonds.HisstoryagreedwiththatofMissFarquharineveryparticular.Whenhehadfinished,Poirottookupthethreadwithaquestion.

“What exactly led you to discover that the bonds had been stolen,Mr.Ridgeway?”

Helaughedratherbitterly.“Thethingstaredmeintheface,MonsieurPoirot.Icouldn’thavemissedit.

Mycabintrunkwashalfoutfromunderthebunkandallscratchedandcutaboutwherethey’dtriedtoforcethelock.”

“ButIunderstoodthatithadbeenopenedwithakey?”“That’s so.They tried to force it, but couldn’t.And in the end, theymust

havegotitunlockedsomehoworother.”“Curious,” saidPoirot, his eyesbeginning to flickerwith thegreen light I

knew so well. “Very curious! They wastemuch, much time trying to prise itopen,andthen—sapristi! theyfindtheyhavethekeyall thetime—foreachofHubbs’slocksareunique.”

“That’s just why they couldn’t have had the key. It never left me day ornight.”

“Youaresureofthat?”“Icansweartoit,andbesides,iftheyhadhadthekeyoraduplicate,why

shouldtheywastetimetryingtoforceanobviouslyunforceablelock?”“Ah! there is exactly the question we are asking ourselves! I venture to

prophesy that the solution, ifweever find it,willhingeon thatcurious fact. Ibegofyounot toassaultmeifIaskyouonemorequestion:Areyouperfectlycertainthatyoudidnotleavethetrunkunlocked?”

Philip Ridgeway merely looked at him, and Poirot gesticulatedapologetically.

“Ah,but thesethingscanhappen,Iassureyou!Verywell, thebondswerestolenfromthetrunk.Whatdidthethiefdowiththem?Howdidhemanagetogetashorewiththem?”

“Ah!” cried Ridgeway. “That’s just it. How? Word was passed to theCustoms authorities, and every soul that left the ship was gone over with atoothcomb!”

“Andthebonds,Igather,madeabulkypackage?”“Certainly they did. They could hardly have been hidden on board—and

anywayweknowtheyweren’t,becausetheywereofferedforsalewithinhalfanhouroftheOlympia’sarrival,longbeforeIgotthecablesgoingandthenumberssentout.Onebrokerswearsheboughtsomeof themevenbefore theOlympiagotin.Butyoucan’tsendbondsbywireless.”

“Notbywireless,butdidanytugcomealongside?”“Only the official ones, and that was after the alarm was given when

everyonewasonthelookout.Iwaswatchingoutmyselffortheirbeingpassedover to someone thatway.MyGod,MonsieurPoirot, this thingwill drivememad!PeoplearebeginningtosayIstolethemmyself.”

“Butyoualsoweresearchedonlanding,weren’tyou?”askedPoirotgently.“Yes.”

Theyoungmanstaredathiminapuzzledmanner.“Youdonot catchmymeaning, I see,” saidPoirot, smiling enigmatically.

“NowIshouldliketomakeafewinquiriesattheBank.”Ridgewayproducedacardandscribbledafewwordsonit.“Sendthisinandmyunclewillseeyouatonce.”Poirotthankedhim,badefarewelltoMissFarquhar,andtogetherwestarted

out for Threadneedle Street and the head office of the London and ScottishBank.OnproductionofRidgeway’scard,wewereledthroughthelabyrinthofcountersanddesks,skirtingpaying-inclerksandpaying-outclerksanduptoasmallofficeonthefirstfloorwherethejointgeneralmanagersreceivedus.Theywere two grave gentlemen, who had grown grey in the service of the Bank.Mr.Vavasourhadashortwhitebeard,Mr.Shawwascleanshaven.

“Iunderstandyouare strictlyaprivate inquiryagent?”saidMr.Vavasour.“Quite so, quite so. We have, of course, placed ourselves in the hands ofScotlandYard. InspectorMcNeilhaschargeof thecase.Averyableofficer, Ibelieve.”

“Iamsureofit,”saidPoirotpolitely.“Youwillpermitafewquestions,onyournephew’sbehalf?Aboutthislock,whoordereditfromHubbs’s?”

“Iordereditmyself,”saidMr.Shaw.“Iwouldnottrusttoanyclerkinthematter.Astothekeys,Mr.Ridgewayhadone,andtheothertwoareheldbymycolleagueandmyself.”

“Andnoclerkhashadaccesstothem?”Mr.ShawturnedinquiringlytoMr.Vavasour.“IthinkIamcorrectinsayingthattheyhaveremainedinthesafewherewe

placedthemonthe23rd,”saidMr.Vavasour.“Mycolleaguewasunfortunatelytakenillafortnightago—infactontheverydaythatPhilipleftus.Hehasonlyjustrecovered.”

“Severebronchitisisnojoketoamanofmyage,”saidMr.Shawruefully.“But I’mafraidMr.Vavasourhas suffered from thehardworkentailedbymyabsence,especiallywiththisunexpectedworrycomingontopofeverything.”

Poirot asked a fewmore questions. I judged that hewas endeavouring togaugetheexactamountofintimacybetweenuncleandnephew.Mr.Vavasour’sanswers were brief and punctilious. His nephew was a trusted official of theBank, and had no debts or money difficulties that he knew of. He had beenentrustedwithsimilarmissionsinthepast.Finallywewerepolitelybowedout.

“Iamdisappointed,”saidPoirot,asweemergedintothestreet.“Youhopedtodiscovermore?Theyaresuchstodgyoldmen.”“Itisnottheirstodginesswhichdisappointsme,monami.Idonotexpectto

find in a Bank manager, a ‘keen financier with an eagle glance,’ as yourfavouriteworks of fiction put it.No, I am disappointed in the case—it is tooeasy!”

“Easy?”“Yes,doyounotfinditalmostchildishlysimple?”“Youknowwhostolethebonds?”“Ido.”“Butthen—wemust—why—”“Do not confuse and fluster yourself, Hastings. We are not going to do

anythingatpresent.”“Butwhy?Whatareyouwaitingfor?”“FortheOlympia.SheisdueonherreturntripfromNewYorkonTuesday.”“Butifyouknowwhostolethebonds,whywait?Hemayescape.”“To a South Sea island where there is no extradition? No,mon ami, he

would find life very uncongenial there. As to why I wait—eh bien, to theintelligenceofHerculePoirot the case isperfectly clear, but for thebenefit ofothers, not so greatly gifted by the good God—the Inspector, McNeil, forinstance—itwouldbeaswelltomakeafewinquiriestoestablishthefacts.Onemusthaveconsiderationforthoselessgiftedthanoneself.”

“GoodLord,Poirot!Doyouknow,I’dgiveaconsiderablesumofmoneytoseeyoumakeathoroughassofyourself—justforonce.You’resoconfoundedlyconceited!”

“Donotenrageyourself,Hastings. Inverity, Iobserve that thereare timeswhenyoualmostdetestme!Alas,Isufferthepenaltiesofgreatness!”

The little man puffed out his chest, and sighed so comically that I wasforcedtolaugh.

TuesdaysawusspeedingtoLiverpoolinafirst-classcarriageoftheLandNWR.Poirot had obstinately refused to enlightenme as to his suspicions—orcertainties.He contented himselfwith expressing surprise that I, too,was notequally au fait with the situation. I disdained to argue, and entrenched mycuriositybehindarampartofpretendedindifference.

Once arrived at the quay alongside which lay the big transatlantic liner,Poirot became brisk and alert.Our proceedings consisted in interviewing foursuccessivestewardsandinquiringafterafriendofPoirot’swhohadcrossedtoNewYorkonthe23rd.

“Anelderlygentleman,wearingglasses.Agreatinvalid,hardlymovedoutofhiscabin.”

Thedescriptionappeared to tallywithoneMr.VentnorwhohadoccupiedthecabinC24whichwasnext to thatofPhilipRidgeway.Althoughunable toseehowPoirothaddeducedMr.Ventnor’sexistenceandpersonalappearance,Iwaskeenlyexcited.

“Tellme,”Icried,“wasthisgentlemanoneofthefirsttolandwhenyougottoNewYork?”

Thestewardshookhishead.“No,indeed,sir,hewasoneofthelastofftheboat.”I retired crestfallen, and observed Poirot grinning at me. He thanked the

steward,anotechangedhands,andwetookourdeparture.“It’s all verywell,” I remarked heatedly, “but that last answermust have

damnedyourprecioustheory,grinasyouplease!”“Asusual,youseenothing,Hastings.That lastanswer is,on thecontrary,

thecopingstoneofmytheory.”

Iflungupmyhandsindespair.“Igiveitup.”

IIWhenwewereinthetrain,speedingtowardsLondon,Poirotwrotebusilyforafewminutes,sealinguptheresultinanenvelope.

“ThisisforthegoodInspectorMcNeil.WewillleaveitatScotlandYardinpassing,andthentotheRendezvousRestaurant,whereIhaveaskedMissEsméeFarquhartodousthehonourofdiningwithus.”

“WhataboutRidgeway?”“Whatabouthim?”askedPoirotwithatwinkle.“Why,yousurelydon’tthink—youcan’t—”“The habit of incoherence is growing upon you,Hastings.As amatter of

factIdidthink.IfRidgewayhadbeenthethief—whichwasperfectlypossible—thecasewouldhavebeencharming;apieceofneatmethodicalwork.”

“ButnotsocharmingforMissFarquhar.”“Possiblyyouareright.Thereforeall isfor thebest.Now,Hastings, letus

review the case. I can see that you are dying to do so.The sealed package isremovedfromthetrunkandvanishes,asMissFarquharputsit,intothinair.Wewilldismiss the thinair theory,which isnotpracticableat thepresentstageofscience,andconsiderwhat is likelytohavebecomeof it.Everyoneasserts theincredulityofitsbeingsmuggledashore—”

“Yes,butweknow—”“Youmay know,Hastings, I do not. I take the view that, since it seemed

incredible,itwasincredible.Twopossibilitiesremain:itwashiddenonboard—alsoratherdifficult—oritwasthrownoverboard.”

“Withacorkonit,doyoumean?”“Withoutacork.”Istared.

“But if thebondswere thrownoverboard, theycouldn’thavebeensold inNewYork.”

“Iadmireyour logicalmind,Hastings.Thebondsweresold inNewYork,thereforetheywerenotthrownoverboard.Youseewherethatleadsus?”

“Wherewewerewhenwestarted.”“Jamaisdelavie!Ifthepackagewasthrownoverboardandthebondswere

soldinNewYork,thepackagecouldnothavecontainedthebonds.Isthereanyevidence that the package did contain the bonds? Remember, Mr. RidgewayneveropeneditfromthetimeitwasplacedinhishandsinLondon.”

“Yes,butthen—”Poirotwavedanimpatienthand.“Permitmetocontinue.Thelastmomentthatthebondsareseenasbondsis

intheofficeoftheLondonandScottishBankonthemorningofthe23rd.TheyreappearinNewYorkhalfanhourafter theOlympiagets in,andaccording tooneman,whomnobodylistens to,actuallybefore shegets in.Supposing then,that they have never been on theOlympia at all? Is there any otherway theycouldgettoNewYork?Yes.TheGiganticleavesSouthamptononthesamedayas the Olympia, and she holds the record for the Atlantic. Mailed by theGigantic,thebondswouldbeinNewYorkthedaybeforetheOlympiaarrived.Allisclear,thecasebeginstoexplainitself.Thesealedpacketisonlyadummy,andthemomentofitssubstitutionmustbeintheofficeinthebank.Itwouldbean easymatter for any of the threemen present to have prepared a duplicatepackagewhichcouldbesubstitutedforthegenuineone.Trèsbien,thebondsaremailed to a confederate inNewYork,with instructions to sell as soon as theOlympiaisin,butsomeonemusttravelontheOlympiatoengineerthesupposedmomentofrobbery.”

“Butwhy?”“Because if Ridgeway merely opens the packet and finds it a dummy,

suspicionfliesatoncetoLondon.No,themanonboardinthecabinnextdoordoes hiswork, pretends to force the lock in anobviousmanner so as to draw

immediate attention to the theft, reallyunlocks the trunkwith aduplicatekey,throwsthepackageoverboardandwaitsuntilthelasttoleavetheboat.Naturallyhewearsglassestoconcealhiseyes,andisaninvalidsincehedoesnotwanttoruntheriskofmeetingRidgeway.HestepsashoreinNewYorkandreturnsbythefirstboatavailable.”

“Butwho—whichwashe?”“Themanwhohadaduplicatekey,themanwhoorderedthelock,theman

whohasnotbeenseverelyillwithbronchitisathishomeinthecountry—enfin,the‘stodgy’oldman,Mr.Shaw!Therearecriminalsinhighplacessometimes,myfriend.Ah,hereweare,Mademoiselle,Ihavesucceeded!Youpermit?”

And,beaming,Poirotkissedtheastonishedgirllightlyoneithercheek!

Six

THE A DVENTUREOF THEE GYPTIAN T OMB

I have always considered that one of the most thrilling and dramatic of themanyadventuresIhavesharedwithPoirotwasthatofourinvestigationintothestrangeseriesofdeathswhichfolloweduponthediscoveryandopeningof theTombofKingMen-her-Ra.

HarduponthediscoveryoftheTombofTutankh-AmenbyLordCarnarvon,SirJohnWillardandMr.BleibnerofNewYork,pursuingtheirexcavationsnotfarfromCairo,inthevicinityofthePyramidsofGizeh,cameunexpectedlyonaseriesoffuneralchambers.Thegreatestinterestwasarousedbytheirdiscovery.TheTombappearedtobethatofKingMen-her-Ra,oneofthoseshadowykingsoftheEighthDynasty,whentheOldKingdomwasfallingtodecay.Littlewasknown about this period, and the discoveries were fully reported in thenewspapers.

Aneventsoonoccurredwhichtookaprofoundholdonthepublicmind.SirJohnWillarddiedquitesuddenlyofheartfailure.

The more sensational newspapers immediately took the opportunity ofreviving all the old superstitious stories connectedwith the ill luck of certainEgyptiantreasures.TheunluckyMummyattheBritishMuseum,thathoaryoldchestnut,wasdraggedoutwith freshzest,wasquietlydeniedby theMuseum,butneverthelessenjoyedallitsusualvogue.

AfortnightlaterMr.Bleibnerdiedofacutebloodpoisoning,andafewdaysafterwardsanephewofhisshothimselfinNewYork.The“CurseofMen-her-Ra”wasthetalkoftheday,andthemagicpowerofdead-and-goneEgyptwasexaltedtoafetishpoint.

Itwas then thatPoirot receivedabriefnote fromLadyWillard,widowofthedeadarchaeologist,askinghimtogoandseeheratherhouseinKensingtonSquare.Iaccompaniedhim.

Lady Willard was a tall, thin woman, dressed in deep mourning. Herhaggardfaceboreeloquenttestimonytoherrecentgrief.

“Itiskindofyoutohavecomesopromptly,MonsieurPoirot.”“Iamatyourservice,LadyWillard.Youwishedtoconsultme?”“Youare,Iamaware,adetective,butitisnotonlyasadetectivethatIwish

toconsultyou.Youareamanoforiginalviews,Iknow,youhaveimagination,experienceof theworld; tellme,MonsieurPoirot,whatareyourviewson thesupernatural?”

Poirot hesitated for a moment before he replied. He seemed to beconsidering.Finallyhesaid:

“Let us not misunderstand each other, Lady Willard. It is not a generalquestionthatyouareaskingmethere.Ithasapersonalapplication,hasitnot?Youarereferringobliquelytothedeathofyourlatehusband?”

“Thatisso,”sheadmitted.“Youwantmetoinvestigatethecircumstancesofhisdeath?”“Iwantyoutoascertainformeexactlyhowmuchisnewspaperchatter,and

howmuchmaybesaidtobefoundedonfact?Threedeaths,MonsieurPoirot—each one explicable taken by itself, but taken together surely an almostunbelievablecoincidence,andallwithinamonthoftheopeningofthetomb!Itmay be mere superstition, it may be some potent curse from the past thatoperates in ways undreamed of by modern science. The fact remains—threedeaths!AndIamafraid,MonsieurPoirot,horriblyafraid.Itmaynotyetbetheend.”

“Forwhomdoyoufear?”“Formyson.Whenthenewsofmyhusband’sdeathcameIwasill.Myson,

whohasjustcomedownfromOxford,wentoutthere.Hebroughtthe—thebodyhome,butnowhehasgoneoutagain,inspiteofmyprayersandentreaties.Heis

sofascinatedbytheworkthatheintendstotakehisfather’splaceandcarryonthesystemofexcavations.Youmaythinkmeafoolish,credulouswoman,but,MonsieurPoirot, Iamafraid.Supposing that thespiritof thedeadKing isnotyetappeased?PerhapstoyouIseemtobetalkingnonsense—”

“No,indeed,LadyWillard,”saidPoirotquickly.“I,too,believeintheforceofsuperstition,oneofthegreatestforcestheworldhaseverknown.”

I lookedathiminsurprise.IshouldneverhavecreditedPoirotwithbeingsuperstitious.Butthelittlemanwasobviouslyinearnest.

“What you really demand is that I shall protect your son? I will do myutmosttokeephimfromharm.”

“Yes,intheordinaryway,butagainstanoccultinfluence?”“InvolumesoftheMiddleAges,LadyWillard,youwillfindmanywaysof

counteractingblackmagic.Perhaps theyknewmore thanwemodernswithallourboastedscience.Nowletuscometofacts, thatImayhaveguidance.YourhusbandhadalwaysbeenadevotedEgyptologist,hadn’the?”

“Yes,fromhisyouthupwards.Hewasoneofthegreatestlivingauthoritiesuponthesubject.”

“ButMr.Bleibner,Iunderstand,wasmoreorlessofanamateur?”“Oh,quite.Hewasaverywealthymanwhodabbledfreelyinanysubject

that happened to take his fancy. My husband managed to interest him inEgyptology, and it was his money that was so useful in financing theexpedition.”

“Andthenephew?Whatdoyouknowofhistastes?Washewiththepartyatall?”

“I do not think so. In fact I never knewof his existence till I read of hisdeath in the paper. I do not think he and Mr. Bleibner can have been at allintimate.Heneverspokeofhavinganyrelations.”

“Whoaretheothermembersoftheparty?”“Well, there’s Dr. Tosswill, a minor official connected with the British

Museum;Mr. Schneider of theMetropolitanMuseum in New York; a young

American secretary; Dr. Ames, who accompanies the expedition in hisprofessionalcapacity;andHassan,myhusband’sdevotednativeservant.”

“DoyourememberthenameoftheAmericansecretary?”“Harper, I think,but I cannotbe sure.HehadnotbeenwithMr.Bleibner

verylong,Iknow.Hewasaverypleasantyoungfellow.”“Thankyou,LadyWillard.”“Ifthereisanythingelse—”“Forthemoment,nothing.Leaveitnowinmyhands,andbeassuredthatI

willdoallthatishumanlypossibletoprotectyourson.”Theywerenotexactlyreassuringwords,andIobservedLadyWillardwince

asheutteredthem.Yet,atthesametime,thefactthathehadnotpooh-poohedherfearsseemedinitselftobearelieftoher.

FormypartIhadneverbeforesuspectedthatPoirothadsodeepaveinofsuperstition inhisnature. I tackledhimonthesubjectaswewenthomewards.Hismannerwasgraveandearnest.

“But yes, Hastings. I believe in these things. Youmust not underrate theforceofsuperstition.”

“Whatarewegoingtodoaboutit?”“Toujourspratique,thegoodHastings!Ehbien,tobeginwithwearegoing

tocabletoNewYorkforfullerdetailsofyoungMr.Bleibner’sdeath.”He duly sent off his cable. The replywas full and precise.YoungRupert

Bleibnerhadbeen in lowwater forseveralyears.HehadbeenabeachcomberandaremittancemaninseveralSouthSeaislands,buthadreturnedtoNewYorktwoyearsago,wherehehadrapidlysunklowerandlower.Themostsignificantthing,tomymind,wasthathehadrecentlymanagedtoborrowenoughmoneyto take him to Egypt. “I’ve a good friend there I can borrow from,” he haddeclared.Here,however,hisplanshadgoneawry.HehadreturnedtoNewYorkcursinghisskinflintofanunclewhocaredmoreforthebonesofdeadandgonekingsthanhisownfleshandblood.ItwasduringhissojourninEgyptthatthedeathofSirJohnWillardhadoccurred.Ruperthadplungedoncemoreintohis

lifeofdissipation inNewYork, and then,withoutwarning,hehad committedsuicide, leaving behind him a letter which contained some curious phrases. Itseemedwritteninasuddenfitofremorse.Hereferredtohimselfasaleperandanoutcast,andtheletterendedbydeclaringthatsuchashewerebetterdead.

A shadowy theory leapt intomy brain. I had never really believed in thevengeance of a long dead Egyptian king. I saw here a more modern crime.Supposing thisyoungmanhaddecided todoawaywithhisuncle—preferablybypoison.Bymistake,SirJohnWillardreceivesthefataldose.Theyoungmanreturns to New York, haunted by his crime. The news of his uncle’s deathreacheshim.Herealizeshowunnecessaryhiscrimehasbeen,andstrickenwithremorsetakeshisownlife.

IoutlinedmysolutiontoPoirot.Hewasinterested.“Itisingeniouswhatyouhavethoughtofthere—decidedlyitisingenious.It

mayevenbetrue.ButyouleaveoutofcountthefatalinfluenceoftheTomb.”Ishruggedmyshoulders.“Youstillthinkthathassomethingtodowithit?”“Somuchso,monami,thatwestartforEgypttomorrow.”“What?”Icried,astonished.“I have said it.”An expression of conscious heroism spread overPoirot’s

face.Thenhegroaned.“Butoh,”helamented,“thesea!Thehatefulsea!”

IIItwasaweeklater.Beneathourfeetwasthegoldensandofthedesert.Thehotsunpoureddownoverhead.Poirot,thepictureofmisery,wiltedbymyside.Thelittlemanwasnotagoodtraveller.Ourfourdays’voyagefromMarseilleshadbeen one long agony to him. He had landed at Alexandria the wraith of hisformerself,evenhisusualneatnesshaddesertedhim.WehadarrivedinCairoandhaddrivenoutatoncetotheMenaHouseHotel,rightintheshadowofthePyramids.

ThecharmofEgypthad laidholdofme.NotsoPoirot.DressedpreciselythesameasinLondon,hecarriedasmallclothesbrushinhispocketandwagedanunceasingwaronthedustwhichaccumulatedonhisdarkapparel.

“Andmyboots,”hewailed.“Regardthem,Hastings.Myboots,oftheneatpatentleather,usuallysosmartandshining.See,thesandisinsidethem,whichispainful,andoutsidethem,whichoutragestheeyesight.Alsotheheat,itcausesmymoustachestobecomelimp—butlimp!”

“LookattheSphinx,”Iurged.“EvenIcanfeelthemysteryandthecharmitexhales.”

Poirotlookedatitdiscontentedly.“Ithasnottheairhappy,”hedeclared.“Howcouldit,half-buriedinsandin

thatuntidyfashion.Ah,thiscursedsand!”“Come,now,there’salotofsandinBelgium,”Iremindedhim,mindfulofa

holidayspentatKnocke-sur-merinthemidstof“Lesdunesimpeccables”astheguidebookhadphrasedit.

“Not inBrussels,”declaredPoirot.Hegazedat thePyramids thoughtfully.“It is true that they, at least, are of a shape solid and geometrical, but theirsurfaceisofanunevennessmostunpleasing.AndthepalmtreesIlikethemnot.Notevendotheyplanttheminrows!”

Icutshorthislamentations,bysuggestingthatweshouldstartforthecamp.Weweretoridethereoncamels,andthebeastswerepatientlykneeling,waitingfor us to mount, in charge of several picturesque boys headed by a volubledragoman.

I pass over the spectacle of Poirot on a camel. He started by groans andlamentationsandendedbyshrieks,gesticulationsandinvocationstotheVirginMaryandeverySaint in thecalendar. In the end,hedescended ignominiouslyand finished the journey on a diminutive donkey. Imust admit that a trottingcamelisnojokefortheamateur.Iwasstiffforseveraldays.

Atlastwenearedthesceneoftheexcavations.Asunburntmanwithagreybeard,inwhiteclothesandwearingahelmet,cametomeetus.

“MonsieurPoirotandCaptainHastings?Wereceivedyourcable.I’msorrythattherewasnoonetomeetyouinCairo.Anunforeseeneventoccurredwhichcompletelydisorganizedourplans.”

Poirot paled. His hand, which had stolen to his clothes brush, stayed itscourse.

“Notanotherdeath?”hebreathed.“Yes.”“SirGuyWillard?”Icried.“No,CaptainHastings.MyAmericancolleague,Mr.

Schneider.”“Andthecause?”demandedPoirot.“Tetanus.”Iblanched.AllaroundmeIseemedtofeelanatmosphereofevil,subtleand

menacing.Ahorriblethoughtflashedacrossme.SupposingIwerenext?“MonDieu,”saidPoirot,inaverylowvoice,“Idonotunderstandthis.Itis

horrible.Tellme,monsieur,thereisnodoubtthatitwastetanus?”“Ibelievenot.ButDr.AmeswilltellyoumorethanIcando.”“Ah,ofcourse,youarenotthedoctor.”“MynameisTosswill.”This, then, was the British expert described by LadyWillard as being a

minor official at theBritishMuseum.Therewas something at oncegrave andsteadfastabouthimthattookmyfancy.

“Ifyouwillcomewithme,”continuedDr.Tosswill.“IwilltakeyoutoSirGuyWillard.Hewasmostanxioustobeinformedassoonasyoushouldarrive.”

Weweretakenacrossthecamptoalargetent.Dr.Tosswilllifteduptheflapandweentered.Threemenweresittinginside.

“Monsieur Poirot and Captain Hastings have arrived, Sir Guy,” saidTosswill.

The youngest of the threemen jumped up and came forward to greet us.There was a certain impulsiveness in his manner which reminded me of his

mother.Hewasnotnearlysosunburntastheothers,andthatfact,coupledwithacertain haggardness round the eyes,made him look older than his twenty-twoyears.Hewasclearlyendeavouringtobearupunderaseverementalstrain.

He introduced his two companions, Dr. Ames, a capable-looking man ofthirty-odd, with a touch of greying hair at the temples, and Mr. Harper, thesecretary, a pleasant lean young man wearing the national insignia of horn-rimmedspectacles.

After a few minutes’ desultory conversation the latter went out, andDr.Tosswillfollowedhim.WewereleftalonewithSirGuyandDr.Ames.

“Pleaseaskanyquestionsyouwanttoask,MonsieurPoirot,”saidWillard.“Weareutterlydumbfoundedat this strange seriesofdisasters,but it isn’t—itcan’tbe,anythingbutcoincidence.”

Therewasanervousnessabouthismannerwhichratherbeliedthewords.IsawthatPoirotwasstudyinghimkeenly.

“Yourheartisreallyinthiswork,SirGuy?”“Rather.Nomatterwhathappens,orwhatcomesofit,theworkisgoingon.

Makeupyourmindtothat.”Poirotwheeledroundontheother.“Whathaveyoutosaytothat,monsieurledocteur?”“Well,”drawledthedoctor,“I’mnotforquittingmyself.”Poirotmadeoneofthoseexpressivegrimacesofhis.“Then, évidemment, we must find out just how we stand. When did

Mr.Schneider’sdeathtakeplace?”“Threedaysago.”“Youaresureitwastetanus?”“Deadsure.”“Itcouldn’thavebeenacaseofstrychninepoisoning,forinstance?”“No,MonsieurPoirot,Iseewhatyouaregettingat.Butitwasaclearcase

oftetanus.”“Didyounotinjectantiserum?”

“Certainly we did,” said the doctor dryly. “Every conceivable thing thatcouldbedonewastried.”

“Hadyoutheantiserumwithyou?”“No.WeprocureditfromCairo.”“Havetherebeenanyothercasesoftetanusinthecamp?”“No,notone.”“AreyoucertainthatthedeathofMr.Bleibnerwasnotduetotetanus?”“Absolutelyplumbcertain.Hehadascratchuponhisthumbwhichbecame

poisoned,andsepticaemiasetin.Itsoundsprettymuchthesametoalayman,Idaresay,butthetwothingsareentirelydifferent.”

“Then we have four deaths—all totally dissimilar, one heart failure, onebloodpoisoning,onesuicideandonetetanus.”

“Exactly,MonsieurPoirot.”“Areyoucertainthatthereisnothingwhichmightlinkthefourtogether?”“Idon’tquiteunderstandyou?”“Iwillputitplainly.Wasanyactcommittedbythosefourmenwhichmight

seemtodenotedisrespecttothespiritofMen-her-Ra?”ThedoctorgazedatPoirotinastonishment.“You’retalkingthroughyourhat,MonsieurPoirot.Surelyyou’venotbeen

guyedintobelievingallthatfooltalk?”“Absolutenonsense,”mutteredWillardangrily.Poirotremainedplacidlyimmovable,blinkingalittleoutofhisgreencat’s

eyes.“Soyoudonotbelieveit,monsieurledocteur?”“No,sir,Idonot,”declaredthedoctoremphatically.“Iamascientificman,

andIbelieveonlywhatscienceteaches.”“WastherenosciencetheninAncientEgypt?”askedPoirotsoftly.Hedid

notwaitforareply,andindeedDr.Amesseemedratheratalossforthemoment.“No, no, do not answer me, but tell me this. What do the native workmenthink?”

“Iguess,” saidDr.Ames, “that,wherewhite folk lose theirheads,nativesaren’tgoingtobefarbehind.I’lladmitthatthey’regettingwhatyoumightcallscared—butthey’venocausetobe.”

“Iwonder,”saidPoirotnoncommittally.SirGuyleantforward.“Surely,”hecriedincredulously,“youcannotbelievein—oh,butthething’s

absurd!YoucanknownothingofAncientEgyptifyouthinkthat.”For answer Poirot produced a little book from his pocket—an ancient

tatteredvolume.AshehelditoutIsawitstitle,TheMagicoftheEgyptiansandChaldeans.Then,wheelinground,hestrodeoutofthetent.Thedoctorstaredatme.

“Whatishislittleidea?”The phrase, so familiar on Poirot’s lips, mademe smile as it came from

another.“Idon’tknowexactly,”Iconfessed.“He’sgotsomeplanofexorcizingthe

evilspirits,Ibelieve.”Iwent in searchofPoirot, and foundhim talking to the lean-facedyoung

manwhohadbeenthelateMr.Bleibner’ssecretary.“No,” Mr. Harper was saying, “I’ve only been six months with the

expedition.Yes,IknewMr.Bleibner’saffairsprettywell.”“Canyourecounttomeanythingconcerninghisnephew?”“He turned up here one day, not a bad-looking fellow. I’d nevermet him

before,butsomeoftheothershad—Ames,Ithink,andSchneider.Theoldmanwasn’tatallpleasedtoseehim.Theywereatitinnotime,hammerandtongs.‘Notacent,’theoldmanshouted.‘NotonecentnoworwhenI’mdead.Iintendtoleavemymoneytothefurtheranceofmylife’swork.I’vebeentalkingitoverwithMr.Schneider today.’Andabitmoreof thesame.YoungBleibner litoutforCairorightaway.”

“Washeinperfectlygoodhealthatthetime?”“Theoldman?”

“No,theyoungone.”“I believe he did mention there was something wrong with him. But it

couldn’thavebeenanythingserious,orIshouldhaveremembered.”“Onethingmore,hasMr.Bleibnerleftawill?”“Sofarasweknow,hehasnot.”“Areyouremainingwiththeexpedition,Mr.Harper?”“No,sir,Iamnot.I’mforNewYorkassoonasIcansquareupthingshere.

Youmay laugh if you like, but I’mnot going to be this blastedMen-her-Ra’snextvictim.He’llgetmeifIstophere.”

Theyoungmanwipedtheperspirationfromhisbrow.Poirotturnedaway.Overhisshoulderhesaidwithapeculiarsmile:“Remember,hegotoneofhisvictimsinNewYork.”“Oh,hell!”saidMr.Harperforcibly.“Thatyoungmanisnervous,”saidPoirotthoughtfully.“Heisontheedge,

butabsolutelyontheedge.”IglancedatPoirotcuriously,buthisenigmaticalsmiletoldmenothing.In

company with Sir Guy Willard and Dr. Tosswill we were taken round theexcavations. The principal finds had been removed to Cairo, but some of thetombfurniturewasextremelyinteresting.Theenthusiasmoftheyoungbaronetwasobvious,butIfanciedthatIdetectedashadeofnervousnessinhismannerasthoughhecouldnotquiteescapefromthefeelingofmenaceintheair.Asweentered the tentwhich had been assigned to us, for awash before joining theeveningmeal,atalldarkfigureinwhiterobesstoodasidetoletuspasswithagracefulgestureandamurmuredgreetinginArabic.Poirotstopped.

“YouareHassan,thelateSirJohnWillard’sservant?”“IservedmyLordSirJohn,nowIservehisson.”Hetookastepnearertous

andloweredhisvoice.“Youareawiseone,theysay,learnedindealingwithevilspirits.Lettheyoungmasterdepartfromhere.Thereisevilintheairaroundus.”

Andwithanabruptgesture,notwaitingforareply,hestrodeaway.“Evilintheair,”mutteredPoirot.“Yes,Ifeelit.”

Ourmealwashardlyacheerfulone.ThefloorwaslefttoDr.Tosswill,whodiscoursed at length upon Egyptian antiquities. Just as we were preparing toretire torest,SirGuycaughtPoirotby thearmandpointed.Ashadowyfigurewasmovingamidst the tents. Itwasnohumanone: I recognizeddistinctly thedog-headedfigureIhadseencarvedonthewallsofthetomb.

Mybloodfrozeatthesight.“MonDieu!”murmuredPoirot, crossinghimself vigorously. “Anubis, the

jackal-headed,thegodofdepartingsouls.”“Someoneishoaxingus,”criedDr.Tosswill,risingindignantlytohisfeet.“Itwentintoyourtent,Harper,”mutteredSirGuy,hisfacedreadfullypale.“No,”saidPoirot,shakinghishead,“intothatofDr.Ames.”Thedoctorstaredathimincredulously;then,repeatingDr.Tosswill’swords,

hecried:“Someoneishoaxingus.Come,we’llsooncatchthefellow.”He dashed energetically in pursuit of the shadowy apparition. I followed

him,but,searchaswewould,wecouldfindnotraceofanylivingsoulhavingpassedthatway.Wereturned,somewhatdisturbedinmind,tofindPoirottakingenergeticmeasures,inhisownway,toensurehispersonalsafety.Hewasbusilysurrounding our tent with various diagrams and inscriptions which he wasdrawinginthesand.Irecognizedthefive-pointedstarorPentagonmanytimesrepeated.Aswashiswont,Poirotwasatthesametimedeliveringanimpromptulectureonwitchcraft andmagic ingeneral,Whitemagic asopposed toBlack,withvariousreferencestotheKaandtheBookoftheDeadthrownin.

It appeared to excite the liveliest contempt inDr. Tosswill,who drewmeaside,literallysnortingwithrage.

“Balderdash, sir,” he exclaimed angrily. “Pure balderdash. The man’s animposter. He doesn’t know the difference between the superstitions of theMiddle Ages and the beliefs of Ancient Egypt. Never have I heard such ahotchpotchofignoranceandcredulity.”

I calmed the excited expert, and joinedPoirot in the tent.My little friendwasbeamingcheerfully.

“Wecannowsleepinpeace,”hedeclaredhappily.“AndIcandowithsomesleep.Myhead,itachesabominably.Ah,foragoodtisane!”

As though in answer to prayer, the flap of the tentwas lifted andHassanappeared, bearing a steaming cupwhich he offered to Poirot. It proved to becamomile tea, a beverage of which he is inordinately fond. Having thankedHassanandrefusedhisofferofanothercupformyself,wewereleftaloneoncemore.Istoodatthedoorofthetentsometimeafterundressing,lookingoutoverthedesert.

“Awonderful place,” I said aloud, “and awonderfulwork. I can feel thefascination.Thisdesertlife,thisprobingintotheheartofavanishedcivilization.Surely,Poirot,you,too,mustfeelthecharm?”

Igotnoanswer,andIturned,alittleannoyed.Myannoyancewasquicklychanged to concern. Poirot was lying back across the rude couch, his facehorribly convulsed. Beside himwas the empty cup. I rushed to his side, thendashedoutandacrossthecamptoDr.Ames’stent.

“Dr.Ames!”Icried.“Comeatonce.”“What’sthematter?”saidthedoctor,appearinginpyjamas.“Myfriend.He’s ill.Dying.Thecamomile tea.Don’t letHassan leave the

camp.”Likeaflashthedoctorrantoourtent.PoirotwaslyingasIlefthim.“Extraordinary,”criedAmes.“Lookslikeaseizure—or—whatdidyousay

aboutsomethinghedrank?”Hepickeduptheemptycup.“OnlyIdidnotdrinkit!”saidaplacidvoice.Weturnedinamazement.Poirotwassittinguponthebed.Hewassmiling.“No,”hesaidgently.“Ididnotdrinkit.WhilemygoodfriendHastingswas

apostrophizing the night, I took the opportunity of pouring it, not down mythroat,butintoalittlebottle.Thatlittlebottlewillgototheanalyticalchemist.No”—as the doctor made a suddenmovement—“as a sensible man, you will

understandthatviolencewillbeofnoavail.DuringHastings’absence tofetchyou,Ihavehadtimetoputthebottleinsafekeeping.Ah,quick,Hastings,holdhim!”

ImisunderstoodPoirot’sanxiety.Eagertosavemyfriend,Iflungmyselfinfrontofhim.But thedoctor’s swiftmovementhadanothermeaning.Hishandwent to his mouth, a smell of bitter almonds filled the air, and he swayedforwardandfell.

“Another victim,” said Poirot gravely, “but the last. Perhaps it is the bestway.Hehasthreedeathsonhishead.”

“Dr.Ames?”Icried,stupefied.“ButIthoughtyoubelievedinsomeoccultinfluence?”

“Youmisunderstoodme,Hastings.What Imeantwas that Ibelieve in theterrificforceofsuperstition.Oncegetitfirmlyestablishedthataseriesofdeathsare supernatural, and you might almost stab a man in broad daylight, and itwould still be put down to the curse, so strongly is the instinct of thesupernaturalimplantedinthehumanrace.Isuspectedfromthefirstthatamanwastakingadvantageofthatinstinct.Theideacametohim,Iimagine,withthedeathofSirJohnWillard.Afuryofsuperstitionaroseatonce.AsfarasIcouldsee, nobody could derive any particular profit from Sir John’s death.Mr. Bleibner was a different case. He was a man of great wealth. Theinformation I received fromNewYorkcontainedseveral suggestivepoints.Tobeginwith,youngBleibnerwas reported tohave saidhehadagood friend inEgyptfromwhomhecouldborrow.Itwastacitlyunderstoodthathemeanthisuncle,butitseemedtomethatinthatcasehewouldhavesaidsooutright.Thewordssuggestsomebooncompanionofhisown.Anotherthing,hescrapedupenoughmoneytotakehimtoEgypt,hisunclerefusedoutrighttoadvancehimapenny,yethewasable topay the returnpassage toNewYork.Someonemusthavelenthimthemoney.”

“Allthatwasverythin,”Iobjected.“But there was more. Hastings, there occur often enough words spoken

metaphoricallywhich are taken literally. The opposite can happen too. In thiscase, words which were meant literally were taken metaphorically. YoungBleibnerwroteplainlyenough:‘Iamaleper,’butnobodyrealizedthatheshothimselfbecausehebelievedthathecontractedthedreaddiseaseofleprosy.”

“What?”Iejaculated.“It was the clever invention of a diabolical mind. Young Bleibner was

sufferingfromsomeminorskintrouble;hehadlivedin theSouthSeaIslands,where thedisease iscommonenough.Ameswasa former friendofhis,andawell-knownmedicalman,hewouldneverdreamofdoubtinghisword.WhenIarrivedhere,mysuspicionsweredividedbetweenHarperandDr.Ames,but Isoon realized that only the doctor could have perpetrated and concealed thecrimes,and I learn fromHarper thathewaspreviouslyacquaintedwithyoungBleibner.Doubtless the latter at some timeor another hadmade awill or hadinsuredhis life in favourof thedoctor.The latter sawhis chanceof acquiringwealth. It was easy for him to inoculateMr. Bleibnerwith the deadly germs.Then the nephew, overcome with despair at the dread news his friend hadconveyedtohim,shothimself.Mr.Bleibner,whateverhisintentions,hadmadenowill.Hisfortunewouldpasstohisnephewandfromhimtothedoctor.”

“AndMr.Schneider?”“Wecannotbesure.HeknewyoungBleibnertoo,remember,andmayhave

suspectedsomething,or,again,thedoctormayhavethoughtthatafurtherdeathmotiveless and purposeless would strengthen the coils of superstition.Furthermore, I will tell you an interesting psychological fact, Hastings. Amurderer has always a strong desire to repeat his successful crime, theperformance of it grows upon him. Hence my fears for young Willard. ThefigureofAnubisyousawtonightwasHassandressedupbymyorders.IwantedtoseeifIcouldfrightenthedoctor.Butitwouldtakemorethanthesupernaturaltofrightenhim.Icouldseethathewasnotentirelytakeninbymypretencesofbelief in theoccult.The little comedy Iplayed forhimdidnotdeceivehim. Isuspectedthathewouldendeavourtomakemethenextvictim.Ah,butinspite

oflamermaudite,theheatabominable,andtheannoyancesofthesand,thelittlegreycellsstillfunctioned!”

Poirot proved to be perfectly right in his premises.YoungBleibner, someyearsago, inafitofdrunkenmerriment,hadmadeajocularwill, leaving“mycigarettecaseyouadmiresomuchandeverythingelseofwhichIdiepossessedwhichwillbeprincipallydebtstomygoodfriendRobertAmeswhooncesavedmylifefromdrowning.”

Thecasewashushedupasfaraspossible,and,tothisday,peopletalkoftheremarkable series of deaths in connectionwith the Tomb ofMen-her-Ra as atriumphalproofof thevengeanceofabygonekinguponthedesecratorsofhistomb—abeliefwhich, asPoirot pointedout tome, is contrary to allEgyptianbeliefandthought.

“

Seven

THE J EWEL R OBBERYATTHE

GRAND M ETROPOLITAN

Poirot,”Isaid,“achangeofairwoulddoyougood.”

“Youthinkso,monami?”“Iamsureofit.”“Eh—eh?”saidmyfriend,smiling.“Itisallarranged,then?”“Youwillcome?”“Wheredoyouproposetotakeme?”“Brighton.Asamatteroffact,afriendofmineintheCityputmeontoa

verygoodthing,and—well,Ihavemoneytoburn,asthesayinggoes.IthinkaweekendattheGrandMetropolitanwoulddousallthegoodintheworld.”

“Thankyou,Iacceptmostgratefully.Youhavethegoodhearttothinkofanoldman.Andthegoodheart,itisintheendworthallthelittlegreycells.Yes,yes,Iwhospeaktoyouamindangerofforgettingthatsometimes.”

I did not relish the implication. I fancy that Poirot is sometimes a littleinclinedtounderestimatemymentalcapacities.ButhispleasurewassoevidentthatIputmyslightannoyanceaside.

“Then,that’sallright,”Isaidhastily.SaturdayeveningsawusdiningattheGrandMetropolitaninthemidstofa

gay throng.All theworld andhiswife seemed to be atBrighton.Thedressesweremarvellous, and the jewels—worn sometimeswithmore love of displaythangoodtaste—weresomethingmagnificent.

“Hein, it isagoodsight, this!”murmuredPoirot.“Thisis thehomeoftheProfiteer,isitnotso,Hastings?”

“Supposedtobe,”Ireplied.“Butwe’llhopetheyaren’tall tarredwiththeProfiteeringbrush.”

Poirotgazedroundhimplacidly.“The sight of somany jewelsmakesmewish I had turnedmy brains to

crime,insteadoftoitsdetection.Whatamagnificentopportunityforsomethiefofdistinction!Regard,Hastings, thatstoutwomanby thepillar.She is,asyouwouldsay,plasteredwithgems.”

Ifollowedhiseyes.“Why,”Iexclaimed,“it’sMrs.Opalsen.”“Youknowher?”“Slightly. Her husband is a rich stockbroker who made a fortune in the

recentoilboom.”After dinner we ran across the Opalsens in the lounge, and I introduced

Poirot to them.Wechatted fora fewminutes,andendedbyhavingourcoffeetogether.

Poirotsaidafewwordsinpraiseofsomeofthecostliergemsdisplayedonthelady’samplebosom,andshebrightenedupatonce.

“It’saperfecthobbyofmine,Mr.Poirot.Ijustlovejewellery.Edknowsmyweakness,andeverytimethingsgowellhebringsmesomethingnew.Youareinterestedinpreciousstones?”

“Ihavehadagooddealtodowiththemonetimeandanother,madame.Myprofessionhasbroughtmeintocontactwithsomeofthemostfamousjewelsintheworld.”

Hewenton tonarrate,withdiscreetpseudonyms, the storyof thehistoricjewelsofareigninghouse,andMrs.Opalsenlistenedwithbatedbreath.

“Therenow,”sheexclaimed,asheended.“If it isn’t just likeaplay!Youknow, I’vegot somepearlsofmyown thathave ahistory attached to them. Ibelieveit’ssupposedtobeoneofthefinestnecklacesintheworld—thepearlsaresobeautifullymatchedandsoperfectincolour.IdeclareIreallymustrunupandgetit!”

“Oh,madame,”protestedPoirot,“youaretooamiable.Praydonotderangeyourself!”

“Oh,butI’dliketoshowittoyou.”Thebuxomdamewaddled across to the lift briskly enough.Her husband,

whohadbeentalkingtome,lookedatPoirotinquiringly.“Madame your wife is so amiable as to insist on showing me her pearl

necklace,”explainedthelatter.“Oh, the pearls!” Opalsen smiled in a satisfied fashion. “Well, they are

worthseeing.Costaprettypennytoo!Still,themoney’sthereallright;IcouldgetwhatIpaidforthemanyday—perhapsmore.Mayhaveto,too,ifthingsgoon as they are now.Money’s confoundedly tight in the City. All this infernalEPD.” He rambled on, launching into technicalities where I could not followhim.

Hewasinterruptedbyasmallpageboywhoapproachedhimandmurmuredsomethinginhisear.

“Eh—what?I’llcomeatonce.Nottakenill,isshe?Excuseme,gentlemen.”He left us abruptly. Poirot leaned back and lit one of his tiny Russian

cigarettes.Then,carefullyandmeticulously,hearrangedtheemptycoffeecupsinaneatrow,andbeamedhappilyontheresult.

Theminutespassed.TheOpalsensdidnotreturn.“Curious,”Iremarked,atlength.“Iwonderwhentheywillcomeback.”Poirotwatchedtheascendingspiralsofsmoke,andthensaidthoughtfully:“Theywillnotcomeback.”“Why?”“Because,myfriend,somethinghashappened.”“Whatsortofthing?Howdoyouknow?”Iaskedcuriously.Poirotsmiled.“A fewminutes ago themanager camehurriedlyoutofhisofficeand ran

upstairs.Hewasmuchagitated.Theliftboyisdeepintalkwithoneofthepages.Thelift-bellhasrungthreetimes,butheheedsitnot.Thirdly,eventhewaiters

aredistrait;andtomakeawaiterdistrait—”Poirotshookhisheadwithanairoffinality.“Theaffairmustindeedbeofthefirstmagnitude.Ah,itisasIthought!Herecomethepolice.”

Two men had just entered the hotel—one in uniform, the other in plainclothes. They spoke to a page, andwere immediately ushered upstairs.A fewminuteslater,thesameboydescendedandcameuptowhereweweresitting.

“Mr.Opalsen’scompliments,andwouldyoustepupstairs?”Poirot sprangnimbly tohis feet.Onewouldhavesaid thatheawaited the

summons.Ifollowedwithnolessalacrity.TheOpalsens’apartmentsweresituatedonthefirstfloor.Afterknockingon

the door, the page boy retired, andwe answered the summons. “Come in!”Astrangescenemetoureyes.TheroomwasMrs.Opalsen’sbedroom,andinthecentreofit, lyingbackinanarmchair,wastheladyherself,weepingviolently.Shepresentedanextraordinaryspectacle,withthetearsmakinggreatfurrowsinthepowderwithwhichher complexionwas liberally coated.Mr.Opalsenwasstridingupanddownangrily.Thetwopoliceofficialsstoodinthemiddleoftheroom,onewithanotebookinhand.Anhotelchambermaid, lookingfrightenedto death, stood by the fireplace; and on the other side of the room aFrenchwoman,obviouslyMrs.Opalsen’smaid,wasweepingandwringingherhands,withanintensityofgriefthatrivalledthatofhermistress.

IntothispandemoniumsteppedPoirot,neatandsmiling.Immediately,withan energy surprising in one of her bulk Mrs. Opalsen sprang from her chairtowardshim.

“Therenow;Edmaysaywhathe likes,but Ibelieve in luck, Ido. ItwasfatedIshouldmeetyouthewayIdidthisevening,andI’veafeelingthatifyoucan’tgetmypearlsbackformenobodycan.”

“Calmyourself,Iprayofyou,madame.”Poirotpattedherhandsoothingly.“Reassureyourself.Allwillbewell.HerculePoirotwillaidyou!”

Mr.Opalsenturnedtothepoliceinspector.“There will be no objection to my—er—calling in this gentleman, I

suppose?”“None at all, sir,” replied theman civilly, butwith complete indifference.

“Perhapsnowyourlady’sfeelingbettershe’lljustletushavethefacts?”Mrs.OpalsenlookedhelplesslyatPoirot.Heledherbacktoherchair.“Seat yourself, madame, and recount to us the whole history without

agitatingyourself.”Thusabjured,Mrs.Opalsendriedhereyesgingerly,and

began.“Icameupstairsafterdinner tofetchmypearls forMr.Poirothere tosee.

ThechambermaidandCélestinewerebothintheroomasusual—”“Excuseme,madame,butwhatdoyoumeanby‘asusual?’”Mr.Opalsenexplained.“ImakeitarulethatnooneistocomeintothisroomunlessCélestine,the

maid, is there also. The chambermaid does the room in the morning whileCélestineispresent,andcomesinafterdinnertoturndownthebedsunderthesameconditions;otherwisesheneverenterstheroom.”

“Well,asIwassaying,”continuedMrs.Opalsen,“Icameup.Iwenttothedrawer here”—she indicated the bottom right-hand drawer of the kneeholedressing table—“took out my jewel case and unlocked it. It seemed quite asusual—butthepearlswerenotthere!”

The inspector had been busywith his notebook.When had you last seenthem?”heasked.

“TheyweretherewhenIwentdowntodinner.”“Youaresure?”“Quitesure. Iwasuncertainwhether towear themornot,but in theendI

decidedontheemeralds,andputthembackinthejewelcase.”“Wholockedupthejewelcase?”“I did. Iwear the key on a chain roundmy neck.” She held it up as she

spoke.Theinspectorexaminedit,andshruggedhisshoulders.

“The thiefmusthavehadaduplicatekey.Nodifficultmatter.The lock isquiteasimpleone.Whatdidyoudoafteryou’dlockedthejewelcase?”

“IputitbackinthebottomdrawerwhereIalwayskeepit.”“Youdidn’tlockthedrawer?”“No,Ineverdo.MymaidremainsintheroomtillIcomeup,sothere’sno

need.”Theinspector’sfacegrewgreyer.“Am I to understand that the jewels were there when you went down to

dinner,andthatsincethenthemaidhasnotlefttheroom?”Suddenly,asthoughthehorrorofherownsituationforthefirst timeburst

uponher,Célestineutteredapiercingshriek,and,flingingherselfuponPoirot,pouredoutatorrentofincoherentFrench.

The suggestion was infamous! That she should be suspected of robbingMadame! The police were well known to be of a stupidity incredible! ButMonsieur,whowasaFrenchman—”

“A Belgian,” interjected Poirot, but Célestine paid no attention to thecorrection.

Monsieur would not stand by and see her falsely accused, while thatinfamouschambermaidwasallowedtogoscot-free.Shehadneverlikedher—abold,red-facedthing—abornthief.Shehadsaidfromthefirstthatshewasnothonest.Andhadkeptasharpwatchoverhertoo,whenshewasdoingMadame’sroom! Let those idiots of policemen search her, and if they did not findMadame’spearlsonheritwouldbeverysurprising!

AlthoughthisharanguewasutteredinrapidandvirulentFrench,Célestinehadinterlardeditwithawealthofgesture,andthechambermaidrealizedatleastapartofhermeaning.Shereddenedangrily.

“If that foreignwoman’s saying I took the pearls, it’s a lie!” she declaredheatedly.“Ineversomuchassawthem.”

“Searchher!”screamedtheother.“YouwillfinditisasIsay.”

“You’rea lair—doyouhear?”said thechambermaid,advancinguponher.“Stole’emyourself,andwanttoputitonme.Why,Iwasonlyintheroomaboutthreeminutesbeforetheladycameup,andthenyouweresittingherethewholetime,asyoualwaysdo,likeacatwatchingamouse.”

The inspector looked across inquiringly atCélestine. “Is that true?Didn’tyouleavetheroomatall?”

“I did not actually leave her alone,” admittedCélestine reluctantly, “but Iwent intomy own room through the door here twice—once to fetch a reel ofcotton,andonceformyscissors.Shemusthavedoneitthen.”

“You wasn’t gone a minute,” retorted the chambermaid angrily. “Justpoppedoutandinagain.I’dbegladifthepolicewouldsearchme.I’venothingtobeafraidof.”

Atthismomenttherewasatapatthedoor.Theinspectorwenttoit.Hisfacebrightenedwhenhesawwhoitwas.

“Ah!” he said. “That’s rather fortunate. I sent for one of our femalesearchers, and she’s just arrived. Perhaps if youwouldn’tmindgoing into theroomnextdoor.”

Helookedatthechambermaid,whosteppedacrossthethresholdwithatossofherhead,thesearcherfollowingherclosely.

TheFrenchgirlhadsunksobbingintoachair.Poirotwaslookingroundtheroom,themainfeaturesofwhichIhavemadeclearbyasketch.

“Wheredoesthatdoorlead?”heinquired,noddinghisheadtowardstheonebythewindow.

“Intothenextapartment,Ibelieve,”saidtheinspector.“It’sbolted,anyway,onthisside.”

Poirotwalkedacrosstoit,triedit,thendrewbacktheboltandtrieditagain.“Andontheothersideaswell,”heremarked.“Well,thatseemstoruleout

that.”Hewalkedovertothewindows,examiningeachoftheminturn.“Andagain—nothing.Notevenabalconyoutside.”“Even if therewere,” said the inspector impatiently, “Idon’t seehow that

wouldhelpus,ifthemaidneverlefttheroom.”“Évidemment,”saidPoirot,notdisconcerted.“AsMademoiselleispositive

shedidnotleavetheroom—”Hewasinterruptedbythereappearanceofthechambermaidandthepolice

searcher.“Nothing,”saidthelatterlaconically.“I should hope not, indeed,” said the chambermaid virtuously. “And that

French hussy ought to be ashamed of herself taking away an honest girl’scharacter.”

“There,there,mygirl;that’sallright,”saidtheinspector,openingthedoor.

“Nobodysuspectsyou.Yougoalongandgetonwithyourwork.”Thechambermaidwentunwillingly.“Goingtosearchher?”shedemanded,pointingatCélestine.“Yes,yes!”Heshutthedooronherandturnedthekey.Célestineaccompaniedthesearcherintothesmallroominherturn.Afew

minuteslatershealsoreturned.Nothinghadbeenfoundonher.Theinspector’sfacegrewgraver.“I’mafraidI’llhavetoaskyoutocomealongwithmeallthesame,miss.”

HeturnedtoMrs.Opalsen.“I’msorry,madam,butalltheevidencepointsthatway.Ifshe’snotgotthemonher,they’rehiddensomewhereabouttheroom.”

Célestineutteredapiercingshriek,andclungtoPoirot’sarm.Thelatterbentandwhisperedsomethinginthegirl’sear.Shelookedupathimdoubtfully.

“Si,si,monenfant—Iassureyouitisbetternottoresist.”Thenheturnedtothe inspector. “Youpermit,monsieur?A littleexperiment—purely formyownsatisfaction.”

“Dependsonwhatitis,”repliedthepoliceofficernoncommittally.PoirotaddressedCélestineoncemore.“Youhave toldus that youwent intoyour room to fetch a reel of cotton.

Whereaboutswasit?”“Ontopofthechestofdrawers,monsieur.”“Andthescissors?”“Theyalso.”“Would it be troubling you toomuch,mademoiselle, to ask you to repeat

thosetwoactions?Youweresittingherewithyourwork,yousay?”Célestine sat down, and then, at a sign from Poirot, rose, passed into the

adjoiningroom,tookupanobjectfromthechestofdrawers,andreturned.Poirotdividedhisattentionbetweenhermovementsandalargeturnipofa

watchwhichheheldinthepalmofhishand.“Again,ifyouplease,mademoiselle.”At the conclusion of the second performance, he made a note in his

pocketbook,andreturnedthewatchtohispocket.“Thankyou,mademoiselle.Andyou,monsieur”—hebowedtotheinspector

—“foryourcourtesy.”The inspector seemed somewhat entertained by this excessive politeness.

Célestine departed in a flood of tears, accompanied by the woman and theplainclothesofficial.

Then, with a brief apology toMrs. Opalsen, the inspector set to work toransacktheroom.Hepulledoutdrawers,openedcupboards,completelyunmadethebed,andtappedthefloor.Mr.Opalsenlookedonsceptically.

“Youreallythinkyouwillfindthem?”“Yes,sir.Itstandstoreason.Shehadn’ttimetotakethemoutoftheroom.

The lady’s discovering the robbery so soon upset her plans. No, they’re hererightenough.Oneofthetwomusthavehiddenthem—andit’sveryunlikelyforthechambermaidtohavedoneso.”

“Morethanunlikely—impossible!”saidPoirotquietly.“Eh?”Theinspectorstared.Poirotsmiledmodestly.“Iwilldemonstrate.Hastings,mygoodfriend,takemywatchinyourhand

—with care. It is a family heirloom! Just now I timed Mademoiselle’smovements—herfirstabsencefromtheroomwasoftwelveseconds,hersecondoffifteen.Nowobservemyactions.Madamewillhavethekindnesstogivemethekeyofthejewelcase.Ithankyou.MyfriendHastingswillhavethekindnesstosay‘Go!’”

“Go!”Isaid.With almost incredible swiftness, Poirotwrenchedopen the drawer of the

dressing table, extracted the jewel case, fitted the key in the lock, opened thecase, selectedapieceof jewellery, shutand locked thecase,andreturned it tothedrawer,whichhepushedtoagain.Hismovementswerelikelightning.

“Well,monami?”hedemandedofmebreathlessly.“Forty-sixseconds,”Ireplied.

“You see?” He looked round. “There would have not been time for thechambermaideventotakethenecklaceout,farlesshideit.”

“Then that settles iton themaid,”said the inspectorwithsatisfaction,andreturnedtohissearch.Hepassedintothemaid’sbedroomnextdoor.

Poirot was frowning thoughtfully. Suddenly he shot a question atMr.Opalsen.

“Thisnecklace—itwas,withoutdoubt,insured?”Mr.Opalsenlookedatriflesurprisedatthequestion.“Yes,”hesaidhesitatingly,“thatisso.”“But what does that matter?” broke in Mrs. Opalsen tearfully. “It’s my

necklaceIwant.Itwasunique.Nomoneycouldbethesame.”“Icomprehend,madame,”saidPoirotsoothingly.“Icomprehendperfectly.

Tolafemme sentiment iseverything—is itnotso?But,monsieur,whohasnotthesofinesusceptibility,willdoubtlessfindsomeslightconsolationinthefact.”

“Ofcourse,ofcourse,”saidMr.Opalsenratheruncertainly.“Still—”Hewas interrupted by a shout of triumph from the inspector.He came in

danglingsomethingfromhisfingers.With a cry, Mrs. Opalsen heaved herself up from her chair. She was a

changedwoman.“Oh,oh,mynecklace!”Sheclaspedittoherbreastwithbothhands.Wecrowdedround.“Wherewasit?”demandedOpalsen.“Maid’s bed. In among the springs of the wire mattress. She must have

stolenitandhiddenittherebeforethechambermaidarrivedonthescene.”“Youpermit,madame?”saidPoirotgently.He took thenecklace fromher

andexamineditclosely;thenhandeditbackwithabow.“I’mafraid,madame,you’llhavetohanditovertousforthetimebeing,”

said the inspector. “Weshallwant it for thecharge.But it shallbe returned toyouassoonaspossible.”

Mr.Opalsenfrowned.

“Isthatnecessary?”“I’mafraidso,sir.Justaformality.”“Oh,lethimtakeit,Ed!”ciredhiswife.“I’dfeelsaferifhedid.Ishouldn’t

sleep awink thinking someone elsemight try toget holdof it.Thatwretchedgirl!AndIwouldneverhavebelieveditofher.”

“There,there,mydear,don’ttakeonso.”Ifeltagentlepressureonmyarm.ItwasPoirot.“Shallweslipaway,myfriend?Ithinkourservicesarenolongerneeded.”Once outside, however, he hesitated, and then, much to my surprise, he

remarked:“Ishouldratherliketoseetheroomnextdoor.”The door was not locked, and we entered. The room, which was a large

doubleone,wasunoccupied.Dustlayaboutrathernoticeably,andmysensitivefriendgaveacharacteristicgrimaceasheranhisfingerroundarectangularmarkonatablenearthewindow.

“Theserviceleavestobedesired,”heobserveddryly.Hewasstaring thoughtfullyoutof thewindow,andseemed tohavefallen

intoabrownstudy.“Well?”Idemandedimpatiently.“Whatdidwecomeinherefor?”Hestarted.“Jevousdemandepardon,monami.Iwishedtoseeifthedoorwasreally

boltedonthissidealso.”“Well,”Isaid,glancingatthedoorwhichcommunicatedwiththeroomwe

hadjustleft,“itisbolted.”Poirotnodded.Hestillseemedtobethinking.“Andanyway,”Icontinued,“whatdoesitmatter?Thecaseisover.Iwish

you’dhadmorechanceofdistinguishingyourself.But itwas thekindof casethatevenastiff-backedidiotlikethatinspectorcouldn’tgowrongover.”

Poirotshookhishead.

“Thecaseisnotover,myfriend.Itwillnotbeoveruntilwefindoutwhostolethepearls.”

“Butthemaiddid!”“Whydoyousaythat?”“Why,”Istammered,“theywerefound—actuallyinhermattress.”“Ta,ta,ta!”saidPoirotimpatiently.“Thosewerenotthepearls.”“What?”“Imitation,monami.”Thestatementtookmybreathaway.Poirotwassmilingplacidly.“Thegoodinspectorobviouslyknowsnothingofjewels.Butpresentlythere

willbeafinehullabaloo!”“Come!”Icried,draggingathisarm.“Where?”“WemusttelltheOpalsensatonce.”“Ithinknot.”“Butthatpoorwoman—”“Ehbien; thatpoorwoman,asyoucallher,willhaveamuchbetternight

believingthejewelstobesafe.”“Butthethiefmayescapewiththem!”“Asusual,myfriend,youspeakwithoutreflection.Howdoyouknowthat

thepearlsMrs.Opalsenlockedupsocarefullytonightwerenot thefalseones,andthattherealrobberydidnottakeplaceatamuchearlierdate?”

“Oh!”Isaid,bewildered.“Exactly,”saidPoirot,beaming.“Westartagain.”He led thewayoutof the room,pausedamoment as thoughconsidering,

andthenwalkeddowntotheendofthecorridor,stoppingoutsidethesmalldenwhere the chambermaids and valets of the respective floors congregated. Ourparticular chambermaid appeared to be holding a small court there, and to beretailing her late experiences to an appreciative audience. She stopped in themiddleofasentence.Poirotbowedwithhisusualpoliteness.

“ExcusethatIderangeyou,butIshallbeobligedifyouwillunlockformethedoorofMr.Opalsen’sroom.”

The woman rose willingly, and we accompanied her down the passageagain.Mr.Opalsen’sroomwasontheothersideofthecorridor,itsdoorfacingthatofhiswife’sroom.Thechambermaidunlockeditwithherpasskey,andweentered.

AsshewasabouttodepartPoirotdetainedher.“Onemoment;haveyoueverseenamongtheeffectsofMr.Opalsenacard

likethis?”He held out a plain white card, rather highly glazed and uncommon in

appearance.Themaidtookitandscrutinizeditcarefully.“No,sir,Ican’tsayIhave.But,anyway,thevalethasmosttodowiththe

gentlemen’srooms.”“Isee.Thankyou.”Poirottookbackthecard.Thewomandeparted.Poirotappearedtoreflecta

little.Thenhegaveashort,sharpnodofthehead.“Ringthebell,Iprayyou,Hastings.Threetimesforthevalet.”I obeyed, devoured with curiosity. Meanwhile Poirot had emptied the

wastepaperbasketonthefloor,andwasswiftlygoingthroughitscontents.Inafewmoments thevaletansweredthebell.TohimPoirotput thesame

question,andhandedhimthecardtoexamine.Buttheresponsewasthesame.ThevalethadneverseenacardofthatparticularqualityamongMr.Opalsen’sbelongings.Poirotthankedhim,andhewithdrew,somewhatunwillingly,withaninquisitiveglanceattheoverturnedwastepaperbasketandthelitteronthefloor.He could hardly have helped overhearing Poirot’s thoughtful remark as hebundledthetornpapersbackagain:

“Andthenecklacewasheavilyinsured....”“Poirot,”Icried,“Isee—”“Youseenothing,myfriend,”herepliedquickly.“Asusual,nothingatall!

Itisincredible—butthereitis.Letusreturntoourownapartments.”

Wedid so in silence.Once there, tomy intense surprise,Poiroteffectedarapidchangeofclothing.

“IgotoLondontonight,”heexplained.“Itisimperative.”“What?”“Absolutely. The real work, that of the brain (ah, those brave little grey

cells), it is done. I go to seek the confirmation. I shall find it! Impossible todeceiveHerculePoirot!”

“You’llcomeacropperoneofthesedays,”Iobserved,ratherdisgustedbyhisvanity.

“Do not be enraged, I beg of you,mon ami. I count on you to dome aservice—ofyourfriendship.”

“Ofcourse,”Isaideagerly,ratherashamedofmymoroseness.“Whatisit?”“ThesleeveofmycoatthatIhavetakenoff—willyoubrushit?Seeyou,a

littlewhitepowderhasclungtoit.Youwithoutdoubtobservedmerunmyfingerroundthedrawerofthedressingtable?”

“No,Ididn’t.”“Youshouldobservemyactions,myfriend.ThusIobtainedthepowderon

my finger, and, being a little overexcited, I rubbed it onmy sleeve; an actionwithoutmethodwhichIdeplore—falsetoallmyprinciples.”

“Butwhatwasthepowder?”Iasked,notparticularlyinterestedinPoirot’sprinciples.

“Not thepoisonof theBorgias,”repliedPoirotwitha twinkle.“Iseeyourimaginationmounting.IshouldsayitwasFrenchchalk.”

“Frenchchalk?”“Yes,cabinetmakersuseittomakedrawersrunsmoothly.”Ilaughed.“Youoldsinner!Ithoughtyouwereworkinguptosomethingexciting.”“Aurevoir,myfriend.Isavemyself.Ifly!”Thedoorshutbehindhim.Withasmile,halfofderision,halfofaffection,I

pickedupthecoatandstretchedoutmyhandfortheclothesbrush.

IIThenextmorning,hearingnothingfromPoirot,Iwentoutforastroll,metsomeoldfriends,andlunchedwiththemattheirhotel.Intheafternoonwewentforaspin.Apuncturedtyredelayedus,anditwaspasteightwhenIgotbacktotheGrandMetropolitan.

ThefirstsightthatmetmyeyeswasPoirot,lookingevenmorediminutivethan usual, sandwiched between the Opalsens, beaming in a state of placidsatisfaction.

“MonamiHastings!”he cried, and sprang tomeetme. “Embraceme,myfriend;allhasmarchedtoamarvel!”

Luckily,theembracewasmerelyfigurative—notathingoneisalwayssureofwithPoirot.

“Doyoumean—”Ibegan.“Justwonderful,Icallit!”saidMrs.Opalsen,smilingalloverherfatface.

“Didn’tItellyou,Ed,thatifhecouldn’tgetbackmypearlsnobodywould?”“Youdid,mydear,youdid.Andyouwereright.”IlookedhelplesslyatPoirot,andheansweredtheglance.“My friend Hastings is, as you say in England, all at the seaside. Seat

yourself,andIwillrecounttoyoualltheaffairthathassohappilyended.”“Ended?”“Butyes.Theyarearrested.”“Whoarearrested?”“Thechambermaid and thevalet,parbleu!You did not suspect?Notwith

mypartinghintabouttheFrenchchalk?”“Yousaidcabinetmakersusedit.”“Certainly they do—to make drawers slide easily. Somebody wanted the

drawertoslideinandoutwithoutanynoise.Whocouldthatbe?Obviously,onlythechambermaid.Theplanwassoingeniousthat itdidnotatonceleaptothe

eye—noteventotheeyeofHerculePoirot.“Listen, thiswashow itwasdone.Thevaletwas in the empty roomnext

door, waiting. The French maid leaves the room. Quick as a flash thechambermaidwhipsopenthedrawer,takesoutthejewelcaseand,slippingbackthe bolt, passes it through the door. The valet opens it at his leisurewith theduplicate key with which he has provided himself, extracts the necklace, andwaitshistime.Célestineleavestheroomagain,and—pst!—inaflashthecaseispassedbackagainandreplacedinthedrawer.

“Madamearrives,thetheftisdiscovered.Thechambermaiddemandstobesearched,withagooddealofrighteousindignation,andleavestheroomwithoutastainonhercharacter.Theimitationnecklacewithwhichtheyhaveprovidedthemselves has been concealed in the French girl’s bed that morning by thechambermaid—amasterstroke,ça!”

“ButwhatdidyougotoLondonfor?”“Yourememberthecard?”“Certainly.Itpuzzledme—andpuzzlesmestill.Ithought—”Ihesitateddelicately,glancingatMr.Opalsen.Poirotlaughedheartily.“Uneblague!Forthebenefitofthevalet.Thecardwasonewithaspecially

prepared surface—for fingerprints. Iwent straight to ScotlandYard, asked forouroldfriendInspectorJapp,andlaidthefactsbeforehim.AsIhadsuspected,the fingerprintsproved tobe thoseof twowell-known jewel thieveswhohavebeen ‘wanted’ for some time. Japp came down with me, the thieves werearrested,andthenecklacewasdiscoveredinthevalet’spossession.Acleverpair,buttheyfailedinmethod.HaveInottoldyou,Hastings,atleastthirty-sixtimes,thatwithoutmethod—”

“At least thirty-six thousand times!” I interrupted. “But where did their‘method’breakdown?”

“Monami, it isagoodplan to takeaplaceaschambermaidorvalet—butyoumustnotshirkyourwork.Theyleftanemptyroomundusted;andtherefore,

whenthemanputdownthejewelcaseonthelittletablenearthecommunicatingdoor,itleftasquaremark—”

“Iremember,”Icried.“Before,Iwasundecided.Then—Iknew!”Therewasamoment’ssilence.“AndI’vegotmypearls,”saidMrs.OpalsenasasortofGreekchorus.“Well,”Isaid,“I’dbetterhavesomedinner.”Poirotaccompaniedme.“Thisoughttomeankudosforyou,”Iobserved.“Pasdu tout,” repliedPoirot tranquilly.“Jappand the local inspectorwill

dividethecreditbetweenthem.But”—hetappedhispocket—“Ihaveachequehere, fromMr.Opalsen, and, how you say,my friend? Thisweekend has notgoneaccordingtoplan.Shallwereturnherenextweekend—atmyexpensethistime?”

Eight

THE K IDNAPPED P RIME M IN ISTER

Now thatwar and the problems ofwar are things of the past, I think Imay

safelyventuretorevealtotheworldthepartwhichmyfriendPoirotplayedinamomentofnationalcrisis.Thesecrethasbeenwell-guarded.NotawhisperofitreachedthePress.But,nowthattheneedforsecrecyhasgoneby,IfeelitisonlyjustthatEnglandshouldknowthedebtitowestomyquaintlittlefriend,whosemarvellousbrainsoablyavertedagreatcatastrophe.

Oneeveningafterdinner—Iwillnotparticularizethedate;itsufficestosaythat it was at the time when “Peace by negotiation” was the parrot cry ofEngland’s enemies—my friend and I were sitting in his rooms. After beinginvalidedoutoftheArmyIhadbeengivenarecruitingjob,andithadbecomemycustomtodropinonPoirotintheeveningsafterdinnerandtalkwithhimofanycasesofinterestthathemighthavehadonhand.

Iwasattempting todiscusswithhim the sensationalnewsof theday—noless thananattemptedassassinationofMr.DavidMacAdam,England’sPrimeMinister.Theaccount in thepapershadevidentlybeencarefullycensored.Nodetailsweregiven,savethatthePrimeMinisterhadhadamarvellousescape,thebulletjustgrazinghischeek.

Iconsideredthatourpolicemusthavebeenshamefullycarelessforsuchanoutrage to be possible. I could well understand that the German agents inEngland would be willing to risk much for such an achievement. “FightingMac,”ashisownpartyhadnicknamedhim,hadstrenuouslyandunequivocallycombatedthePacifistinfluencewhichwasbecomingsoprevalent.

HewasmorethanEngland’sPrimeMinister—hewasEngland;andtohaveremoved him from his sphere of influence would have been a crushing andparalysingblowtoBritain.

Poirotwasbusymoppingagreysuitwithaminutesponge.NeverwasthereadandysuchasHerculePoirot.Neatnessandorderwerehispassion.Now,withthe odour of benzene filling the air, he was quite unable to give me his fullattention.

“InalittleminuteIamwithyou,myfriend.Ihaveallbutfinished.Thespotofgrease—heisnotgood—Iremovehim—so!”Hewavedhissponge.

IsmiledasIlitanothercigarette.“Anythinginterestingon?”Iinquired,afteraminuteortwo.“Iassista—howdoyoucallit?—‘charlady’tofindherhusband.Adifficult

affair,needingthetact.ForIhavealittleideathatwhenheisfoundhewillnotbepleased.Whatwouldyou?Formypart,Isympathizewithhim.Hewasamanofdiscriminationtolosehimself.”

Ilaughed.“Atlast!Thespotofgrease,heisgone!Iamatyourdisposal.”“I was asking you what you thought of this attempt to assassinate

MacAdam?”“Enfantillage!” repliedPoirotpromptly.“Onecanhardly take it seriously.

Tofirewiththerifle—neverdoesitsucceed.Itisadeviceofthepast.”“Itwasverynearsucceedingthistime,”Iremindedhim.Poirotshookhisheadimpatiently.Hewasabouttoreplywhenthelandlady

thrustherheadroundthedoorandinformedhimthatthereweretwogentlemenbelowwhowantedtoseehim.

“Theywon’tgivetheirnames,sir,buttheysaysasit’sveryimportant.”“Letthemmount,”saidPoirot,carefullyfoldinghisgreytrousers.Inafewminutesthetwovisitorswereusheredin,andmyheartgavealeap

asintheforemostIrecognizednolessapersonagethanLordEstair,LeaderoftheHouseofCommons;whilsthiscompanion,Mr.BernardDodge,wasalsoa

memberoftheWarCabinet,and,asIknew,aclosepersonalfriendofthePrimeMinister.

“MonsieurPoirot?”saidLordEstairinterrogatively.Myfriendbowed.Thegreatmanlookedatmeandhesitated.“Mybusinessisprivate.”

“YoumayspeakfreelybeforeCaptainHastings,”saidmyfriend,noddingtometoremain.“Hehasnotallthegifts,no!ButIanswerforhisdiscretion.”

LordEstairstillhesitated,butMr.Dodgebrokeinabruptly:“Oh, come on—don’t let’s beat about the bush! As far as I can see, the

wholeofEnglandwillknowtheholewe’reinsoonenough.Time’severything.”“Pray be seated, messieurs,” said Poirot politely. “Will you take the big

chair,milord?”LordEstairstartedslightly.“Youknowme?”Poirot smiled. “Certainly. I read the little papers with the pictures. How

shouldInotknowyou?”“Monsieur Poirot, I have come to consult you upon amatter of themost

vitalurgency.Imustaskforabsolutesecrecy.”“YouhavethewordofHerculePoirot—Icansaynomore!”saidmyfriend

grandiloquently.“ItconcernsthePrimeMinister.Weareingravetrouble.”“We’reupatree!”interposedMr.Dodge.“Theinjuryisseriousthen?”Iasked.“Whatinjury?”“Thebulletwound.”“Oh,that!”criedMr.Dodgecontemptuously.“That’soldhistory.”“Asmycolleaguesays,”continuedLordEstair,“thataffairisoveranddone

with.Luckily,itfailed.IwishIcouldsayasmuchforthesecondattempt.”“Therehasbeenasecondattempt,then?”“Yes, thoughnot of the samenature,MonsieurPoirot, thePrimeMinister

hasdisappeared.”“What?”

“Hehasbeenkidnapped!”“Impossible!”Icried,stupefied.Poirot threwawitheringglanceatme,which Iknewenjoinedme tokeep

mymouthshut.“Unfortunately, impossible as it seems, it is only too true,” continued his

lordship.Poirot looked atMr.Dodge. “You said just now,monsieur, that timewas

everything.Whatdidyoumeanbythat?”Thetwomenexchangedglances,andthenLordEstairsaid:“Youhaveheard,MonsieurPoirot,oftheapproachingAlliedConference?”“Myfriendnodded.“Forobviousreasons,nodetailshavebeengivenofwhenandwhereitisto

takeplace.But,althoughithasbeenkeptoutofthenewspapers,thedateis,ofcourse, widely known in diplomatic circles. The Conference is to be heldtomorrow—Thursday—evening at Versailles. Now you perceive the terriblegravity of the situation. Iwill not conceal from you that the PrimeMinister’spresenceattheConferenceisavitalnecessity.ThePacifistpropaganda,startedandmaintainedbytheGermanagentsinourmidst,hasbeenveryactive.Itistheuniversal opinion that the turning point of the Conference will be the strongpersonalityofthePrimeMinister.Hisabsencemayhavethemostseriousresults—possiblyaprematureanddisastrouspeace.Andwehavenoonewhocanbesentinhisplace.HealonecanrepresentEngland.”

Poirot’sfacehadgrownverygrave.“ThenyouregardthekidnappingofthePrime Minister as a direct attempt to prevent his being present at theConference?”

“MostcertainlyIdo.HewasactuallyonhiswaytoFranceatthetime.”“AndtheConferenceistobeheld?”“Atnineo’clocktomorrownight.”Poirotdrewanenormouswatchfromhispocket.“Itisnowaquartertonine.”

“Twenty-fourhours,”saidMr.Dodgethoughtfully.“Andaquarter,”amendedPoirot.“Donot forget thequarter,monsieur—it

may come in useful. Now for the details—the abduction, did it take place inEnglandorinFrance?”

“InFrance.Mr.MacAdamcrossed toFrance thismorning.Hewas tostaytonightastheguestoftheCommander-in-Chief,proceedingtomorrowtoParis.HewasconveyedacrosstheChannelbydestroyer.AtBoulognehewasmetbyacarfromGeneralHeadquartersandoneoftheCommander-in-Chief’sADCs.”

“Ehbien?”“Well,theystartedfromBoulogne—buttheyneverarrived.”“What?”“MonsieurPoirot, itwas aboguscar andabogusADC.The real carwas

foundinasideroad,withthechauffeurandtheADCneatlygaggedandbound.”“Andtheboguscar?”“Isstillatlarge.”Poirotmade a gesture of impatience. “Incredible! Surely it cannot escape

attentionforlong?”“Sowethought.Itseemedmerelyaquestionofsearchingthoroughly.That

partofFranceisunderMilitaryLaw.Wewereconvincedthatthecarcouldnotgolongunnoticed.TheFrenchpoliceandourownScotlandYardmenandthemilitaryarestrainingeverynerve.Itis,asyousay,incredible—butnothinghasbeendiscovered!”

Atthatmomentatapcameatthedoor,andayoungofficerenteredwithaheavilysealedenvelopewhichhehandedtoLordEstair.

“JustthroughfromFrance,sir.Ibroughtitonhere,asyoudirected.”TheMinister tore it open eagerly, anduttered an exclamation.Theofficer

withdrew.“Hereisnewsatlast!Thistelegramhasjustbeendecoded.Theyhavefound

thesecondcar,alsothesecretary,Daniels,chloroformed,gagged,andbound,inan abandoned farmnearC—.He remembers nothing, except somethingbeing

pressedagainsthismouthandnosefrombehind,andstrugglingtofreehimself.Thepolicearesatisfiedastothegenuinenessofhisstatement.”

“Andtheyhavefoundnothingelse?”“No.”“NotthePrimeMinister’sdeadbody?Then,thereishope.Butitisstrange.

Why, after trying to shoot him this morning, are they now taking so muchtroubletokeephimalive?”

Dodgeshookhishead.“Onething’squitecertain.They’redeterminedatallcoststopreventhisattendingtheConference.”

“Ifitishumanlypossible,thePrimeMinistershallbethere.Godgrantitisnot too late.Now,messieurs, recount tomeeverything—fromthebeginning. Imustknowaboutthisshootingaffairaswell.”

“Last night, the Prime Minister, accompanied by one of his secretaries,CaptainDaniels—”

“ThesamewhoaccompaniedhimtoFrance?”“Yes. As I was saying, theymotored down toWindsor, where the Prime

MinisterwasgrantedanAudience.Earlythismorninghereturnedtotown,anditwasonthewaythattheattemptedassassinationtookplace.”

“Onemoment, if you please.Who is this CaptainDaniels? You have hisdossier?”

LordEstairsmiled.“Ithoughtyouwouldaskmethat.Wedonotknowverymuchofhim.Heisofnoparticularfamily.HehasservedintheEnglishArmy,andisanextremelyablesecretary,beinganexceptionallyfinelinguist.Ibelievehe speaks seven languages. It is for that reason that the PrimeMinister chosehimtoaccompanyhimtoFrance.”

“HasheanyrelativesinEngland?”“Twoaunts.AMrs.Everard,wholivesatHampstead,andaMissDaniels,

wholivesnearAscot.”“Ascot?ThatisneartoWindsor,isitnot?”“Thatpointhasnotbeenoverlooked.Butithasledtonothing.”

“YouregardtheCapitaineDaniels,then,asabovesuspicion?”AshadeofbitternesscreptintoLordEstair’svoice,ashereplied:“No,MonsieurPoirot.Inthesedays,IshouldhesitatebeforeIpronounced

anyoneabovesuspicion.”“Trèsbien.NowIunderstand,milord, that thePrimeMinisterwould, as a

matterofcourse,beundervigilantpoliceprotection,whichoughttorenderanyassaultuponhimanimpossibility?”

Lord Estair bowed his head. “That is so. The Prime Minister’s car wasclosely followed by another car containing detectives in plain clothes.Mr. MacAdam knew nothing of these precautions. He is personally a mostfearless man, and would be inclined to sweep them away arbitrarily. But,naturally, the police make their own arrangements. In fact, the Premier’schauffeur,O’Murphy,isaCIDman.”

“O’Murphy?ThatisanameofIreland,isitnotso?”“Yes,heisanIrishman.”“FromwhatpartofIreland?”“CountyClare,Ibelieve.”“Tiens!Butproceed,milord.”“ThePremierstartedforLondon.Thecarwasaclosedone.HeandCaptain

Daniels sat inside.The secondcar followedasusual.But, unluckily, for someunknownreason,thePrimeMinister’scardeviatedfromthemainroad—”

“Atapointwheretheroadcurves?”interruptedPoirot.“Yes—buthowdidyouknow?”“Oh,c’estévident!Continue!”“Forsomeunknownreason,”continuedLordEstair,“thePremier’scarleft

themainroad.Thepolicecar,unawareofthedeviation,continuedtokeeptothehighroad.Atashortdistancedowntheunfrequentedlane,thePrimeMinister’scarwassuddenlyheldupbyabandofmaskedmen.Thechauffeur—”

“ThatbraveO’Murphy!”murmuredPoirotthoughtfully.“Thechauffeur,momentarilytakenaback,jammedonthebrakes.ThePrime

Ministerputhisheadoutofthewindow.Instantlyashotrangout—thenanother.The first one grazed his cheek, the second, fortunately, went wide. Thechauffeur, now realizing the danger, instantly forged straight ahead, scatteringthebandofmen.”

“Anearescape,”Iejaculated,withashiver.“Mr. MacAdam refused to make any fuss over the slight wound he had

received. He declared it was only a scratch. He stopped at a local cottagehospital,where itwasdressedandboundup—hedidnot,ofcourse, revealhisidentity. He then drove, as per schedule, straight to Charing Cross, where aspecialtrainforDoverwasawaitinghim,and,afterabriefaccountofwhathadhappened had been given to the anxious police by Captain Daniels, he dulydeparted for France. At Dover, he went on board the waiting destroyer. AtBoulogne,asyouknow,theboguscarwaswaitingforhim,carryingtheUnionJack,andcorrectineverydetail.”

“Thatisallyouhavetotellme?”“Yes.”“Thereisnoothercircumstancethatyouhaveomitted,milord?”“Well,thereisoneratherpeculiarthing.”“Yes?”“The Prime Minister’s car did not return home after leaving the Prime

MinisteratCharingCross.ThepolicewereanxioustointerviewO’Murphy,soasearchwasinstitutedatonce.Thecarwasdiscoveredstandingoutsideacertainunsavourylittlerestaurant inSoho,whichiswellknownasameetingplaceofGermanagents.”

“Andthechauffeur?”“Thechauffeurwasnowheretobefound.He,too,haddisappeared.”“So,” said Poirot thoughtfully, “there are two disappearances: the Prime

MinisterinFrance,andO’MurphyinLondon.”HelookedkeenlyatLordEstair,whomadeagestureofdespair.“Icanonly tellyou,MonsieurPoirot, that, ifanyonehadsuggested tome

yesterdaythatO’Murphywasatraitor,Ishouldhavelaughedinhisface.”“Andtoday?”“TodayIdonotknowwhattothink.”Poirotnoddedgravely.Helookedathisturnipofawatchagain.“IunderstandthatIhavecarteblanche,messieurs—ineveryway,Imean?I

mustbeabletogowhereIchoose,andhowIchoose.”“Perfectly.ThereisaspecialtrainleavingforDoverinanhour’stime,with

afurthercontingentfromScotlandYard.YoushallbeaccompaniedbyaMilitaryofficerandaCIDman,whowillholdthemselvesatyourdisposalineveryway.Isthatsatisfactory?”

“Quite. One more question before you leave, messieurs.What made youcometome?Iamunknown,obscureinthisgreatLondonofyours.”

“We sought you out on the express recommendation and wish of a verygreatmanofyourowncountry.”

“Comment?MyoldfriendthePréfet—?”LordEstairshookhishead.“OnehigherthanthePréfet.OnewhosewordwasoncelawinBelgium—

andshallbeagain!ThatEnglandhassworn!”Poirot’shandflewswiftlytoadramaticsalute.“Amentothat!Ah,butmy

Masterdoesnotforget...Messieurs,I,HerculePoirot,willserveyoufaithfully.Heavenonlysendthatitwillbeintime.Butthisisdark—dark...Icannotsee.”

“Well,Poirot,”Icriedimpatiently,asthedoorclosedbehindtheMinisters,“whatdoyouthink?”

Myfriendwasbusypackingaminutesuitcase,withquick,deftmovements.Heshookhisheadthoughtfully.

“Idon’tknowwhattothink.Mybrainsdesertme.”“Why, as you said, kidnap him, when a knock on the head would do as

well?”Imused.“Pardonme,monami,butIdidnotquitesaythat.Itisundoubtedlyfarmore

theiraffairtokidnaphim.”

“Butwhy?”“Because uncertainty creates panic. That is one reason. Were the Prime

Ministerdead,itwouldbeaterriblecalamity,butthesituationwouldhavetobefaced.Butnowyouhaveparalysis.WillthePrimeMinisterreappear,orwillhenot? Ishedeadoralive?Nobodyknows,anduntil theyknownothingdefinitecan be done. And, as I tell you, uncertainty breeds panic, which is what lesBochesareplayingfor.Then,again, if thekidnappersareholdinghimsecretlysomewhere, they have the advantage of being able to make terms with bothsides.TheGermanGovernmentisnotaliberalpaymaster,asarule,butnodoubtthey can be made to disgorge substantial remittances in such a case as this.Thirdly, they run no risk of the hangman’s rope.Oh, decidedly, kidnapping istheiraffair.”

“Then,ifthatisso,whyshouldtheyfirsttrytoshoothim?”Poirotmadeagestureofanger.“Ah,thatisjustwhatIdonotunderstand!It

isinexplicable—stupid!Theyhavealltheirarrangementsmade(andverygoodarrangementstoo!)fortheabduction,andyettheyimperilthewholeaffairbyamelodramatic attack, worthy of a cinema, and quite as unreal. It is almostimpossibletobelieveinit,withitsbandofmaskedmen,nottwentymilesfromLondon!”

“Perhapstheyweretwoquiteseparateattemptswhichhappenedirrespectiveofeachother,”Isuggested.

“Ah,no, thatwouldbe toomuchofacoincidence!Then, further—who isthetraitor?Theremusthavebeenatraitor—inthefirstaffair,anyway.Butwhowasit—DanielsorO’Murphy?Itmusthavebeenoneofthetwo,orwhydidthecarleavethemainroad?WecannotsupposethatthePrimeMinisterconnivedathis own assassination!DidO’Murphy take that turning of his own accord, orwasitDanielswhotoldhimtodoso?”

“SurelyitmusthavebeenO’Murphy’sdoing.”“Yes, because if itwasDaniels’ thePrimeMinisterwould have heard the

order, and would have asked the reason. But there are altogether too many

‘whys’ in this affair, and theycontradict eachother. IfO’Murphy is anhonestman,whydidheleavethemainroad?Butifhewasadishonestman,whydidhestart the car again when only two shots had been fired—thereby, in allprobability,savingthePrimeMinister’slife?And,again,ifhewashonest,whydid he, immediately on leaving Charing Cross, drive to a well-knownrendezvousofGermanspies?”

“Itlooksbad,”Isaid.“Letus lookat thecasewithmethod.Whathaveweforandagainst these

twomen?TakeO’Murphy first.Against: that his conduct in leaving themainroad was suspicious; that he is an Irishman from County Clare; that he hasdisappearedinahighlysuggestivemanner.For:thathispromptnessinrestartingthecarsavedthePremier’slife;thatheisaScotlandYardman,and,obviously,fromthepostallottedtohim,atrusteddetective.NowforDaniels.Thereisnotmuchagainsthim,exceptthefactthatnothingisknownofhisantecedents,andthat he speaks toomany languages for a good Englishman! (Pardonme,monami,but,aslinguists,youaredeplorable!)Nowforhim,wehavethefactthathewasfoundgagged,bound,andchloroformed—whichdoesnotlookasthoughhehadanythingtodowiththematter.”

“Hemighthavegaggedandboundhimself,todivertsuspicion.”Poirot shookhishead.“TheFrenchpolicewouldmakenomistakeof that

kind.Besides,oncehehadattainedhisobject,andthePrimeMinisterwassafelyabducted, there would not be much point in his remaining behind. Hisaccomplicescould havegagged and chloroformedhim,of course, but I fail toseewhatobjecttheyhopedtoaccomplishbyit.Hecanbeoflittleusetothemnow, for, until the circumstances concerning the Prime Minister have beenclearedup,heisboundtobecloselywatched.”

“Perhapshehopedtostartthepoliceonafalsescent?”“Thenwhydidhenotdo so?Hemerely says that somethingwaspressed

overhisnoseandmouth,andthatheremembersnothingmore.Thereisnofalsescentthere.Itsoundsremarkablylikethetruth.”

“Well,” I said, glancing at the clock, “I suppose we’d better start for thestation.YoumayfindmorecluesinFrance.”

“Possibly,monami,butIdoubtit.ItisstillincredibletomethatthePrimeMinister has not been discovered in that limited area, where the difficulty ofconcealing him must be tremendous. If the military and the police of twocountrieshavenotfoundhim,howshallI?”

AtCharingCrossweweremetbyMr.Dodge.“ThisisDetectiveBarnes,ofScotlandYard,andMajorNorman.Theywill

holdthemselvesentirelyatyourdisposal.Goodlucktoyou.It’sabadbusiness,butI’venotgivenuphope.Mustbeoffnow.”AndtheMinisterstroderapidlyaway.

WechattedinadesultoryfashionwithMajorNorman.Inthecentreofthelittle group of men on the platform I recognized a little ferret-faced fellowtalking toa tall, fairman.HewasanoldacquaintanceofPoirot’s—Detective-InspectorJapp,supposed tobeoneof thesmartestofScotlandYard’sofficers.Hecameoverandgreetedmyfriendcheerfully.

“I heard youwere on this job too. Smart bit ofwork. So far they’ve gotawaywiththegoodsallright.ButIcan’tbelievetheycankeephimhiddenlong.Our people are going through France with a toothcomb. So are the French. Ican’thelpfeelingit’sonlyamatterofhoursnow.”

“Thatis,ifhe’sstillalive,”remarkedthetalldetectivegloomily.Japp’sfacefell.“Yes...butsomehowI’vegotthefeelinghe’sstillaliveall

right.”Poirot nodded. “Yes, yes; he’s alive.But can he be found in time? I, like

you,didnotbelievehecouldbehiddensolong.”Thewhistleblew,andwealltroopedupintothePullmancar.Then,witha

slow,unwillingjerk,thetraindrewoutofthestation.Itwasacuriousjourney.TheScotlandYardmencrowdedtogether.Mapsof

NorthernFrancewerespreadout,andeagerforefingerstracedthelinesofroadsandvillages.Eachmanhadhisownpettheory.Poirotshowednoneofhisusual

loquacity, but sat staring in front of him, with an expression on his face thatremindedme of a puzzled child. I talked toNorman,whom I found quite anamusing fellow.Onarriving atDoverPoirot’s behaviourmovedme to intenseamusement.Thelittleman,ashewentonboardtheboat,clutcheddesperatelyatmyarm.Thewindwasblowinglustily.

“MonDieu!”hemurmured.“Thisisterrible!”“Havecourage,Poirot,”Icried.“Youwillsucceed.Youwillfindhim.Iam

sureofit.”“Ah,monami,youmistakemyemotion.Itisthisvillainousseathattroubles

me!Themaldemer—itishorriblesuffering!”“Oh!”Isaid,rathertakenaback.The first throb of the engineswas felt, andPoirot groaned and closed his

eyes.“MajorNormanhas amapofNorthernFrance if youwould like to study

it?”Poirotshookhisheadimpatiently.“Butno,butno!Leaveme,myfriend.Seeyou, to think, thestomachand

the brain must be in harmony. Laverguier has a method most excellent foravertingthemaldemer.Youbreathein—andout—slowly,so—turningtheheadfromlefttorightandcountingsixbetweeneachbreath.”

Ilefthimtohisgymnasticendeavours,andwentondeck.As we came slowly into Boulogne Harbour Poirot appeared, neat and

smiling, and announced to me in a whisper that Laverguier’s system hadsucceeded“toamarvel!”

Japp’sforefingerwasstilltracingimaginaryroutesonhismap.“Nonsense!Thecar started fromBoulogne—here theybranchedoff.Now,my idea is thattheytransferredthePrimeMinistertoanothercar.See?”

“Well,” said the tall detective, “I shallmake for the seaports. Ten to one,they’vesmuggledhimonboardaship.”

Jappshookhishead.“Tooobvious.Theorderwentoutatoncetocloseall

theports.”Thedaywasjustbreakingaswelanded.MajorNormantouchedPoiroton

thearm.“There’samilitarycarherewaitingforyou,sir.”“Thank you, monsieur. But, for the moment, I do not propose to leave

Boulogne.”“What?”“No,wewillenterthishotelhere,bythequay.”He suited the action to the word, demanded and was accorded a private

room.Wethreefollowedhim,puzzledanduncomprehending.Heshotaquickglanceatus.“Itisnotsothatthegooddetectiveshouldact,

eh?Iperceiveyourthought.Hemustbefullofenergy.Hemustrushtoandfro.He should prostrate himself on the dusty road and seek the marks of tyresthroughalittleglass.Hemustgatherupthecigaretteend,thefallenmatch?Thatisyouridea,isitnot?”

Hiseyeschallengedus.“But I—HerculePoirot—tellyou that it isnotso!Thetruecluesarewithin—here!”Hetappedhisforehead.“Seeyou,IneednothaveleftLondon.Itwouldhavebeensufficientformetositquietlyinmyroomsthere.Allthatmattersisthelittlegreycellswithin.Secretlyandsilentlytheydotheirpart,untilsuddenlyIcallforamap,andI laymyfingeronaspot—so—andIsay:thePrimeMinisteristhere!Anditisso!Withmethodandlogiconecan accomplish anything! This frantic rushing to Francewas amistake—it isplayingachild’sgameofhide-and-seek.Butnow, thoughitmaybe too late, Iwillsettoworktherightway,fromwithin.Silence,myfriends,Ibegofyou.”

And for five longhours the littleman satmotionless, blinkinghis eyelidslikeacat,hisgreeneyesflickeringandbecomingsteadilygreenerandgreener.TheScotlandYardmanwasobviouslycontemptuous,MajorNormanwasboredandimpatient,andImyselffoundthetimepassedwithwearisomeslowness.

Finally, Igotup,andstrolledasnoiselesslyasIcould to thewindow.Thematter was becoming a farce. I was secretly concerned for my friend. If hefailed,Iwouldhavepreferredhimtofailinalessridiculousmanner.Outofthe

windowIidlywatchedthedailyleaveboat,belchingforthcolumnsofsmoke,asshelayalongsidethequay.

SuddenlyIwasarousedbyPoirot’svoiceclosetomyelbow.“Mesamis,letusstart!”I turned. An extraordinary transformation had come over my friend. His

eyeswereflickeringwithexcitement,hischestwasswelledtotheuttermost.“Ihavebeenanimbecile,myfriends!ButIseedaylightat

last.”MajorNormanmovedhastilytothedoor.“I’llorderthecar.”“Thereisnoneed.Ishallnotuseit.ThankHeaventhewindhasfallen.”“Doyoumeanyouaregoingtowalk,sir?”“No,myyoungfriend.IamnoSt.Peter.Iprefertocrosstheseabyboat.”“Tocrossthesea?”“Yes.Toworkwithmethod, onemust begin from thebeginning.And the

beginningofthisaffairwasinEngland.Therefore,wereturntoEngland.”

IIAtthreeo’clock,westoodoncemoreuponCharingCrossplatform.Toallourexpostulations, Poirot turned a deaf ear, and reiterated again and again that tostart at the beginningwas not awaste of time, but the onlyway.On thewayover,hehadconferredwithNormaninalowvoice,andthelatterhaddespatchedasheafoftelegramsfromDover.

OwingtothespecialpassesheldbyNorman,wegotthrougheverywhereinrecord time. In London, a large police car was waiting for us, with someplainclothesmen,oneofwhomhandedatypewrittensheetofpapertomyfriend.Heansweredmyinquiringglance.

“A list of the cottage hospitals within a certain radius west of London. IwiredforitfromDover.”

WewerewhirledrapidlythroughtheLondonstreets.WewereontheBath

Road.Onwewent,throughHammersmith,ChiswickandBrentford.Ibegantoseeourobjective.ThroughWindsorandsoontoAscot.Myheartgavea leap.Ascot was where Daniels had an aunt living. We were after him, then, notO’Murphy.

Wedulystoppedatthegateofatrimvilla.Poirotjumpedoutandrangthebell.Isawaperplexedfrowndimmingtheradianceofhisface.Plainly,hewasnotsatisfied.Thebellwasanswered.Hewasusheredinside.Inafewmomentshereappeared,andclimbedintothecarwithashort,sharpshakeofhishead.Myhopesbegantodiedown.Itwaspastfournow.EvenifhefoundcertainevidenceincriminatingDaniels,whatwouldbethegoodofit,unlesshecouldwringfromsomeonetheexactspotinFrancewheretheywereholdingthePrimeMinister?

Our return progress towardsLondonwas an interrupted one.We deviatedfrom the main road more than once, and occasionally stopped at a smallbuilding,which I hadnodifficulty in recognizing as a cottagehospital.Poirotonly spent a fewminutes at each, but at every halt his radiant assurancewasmoreandmorerestored.

HewhisperedsomethingtoNorman,towhichthelatterreplied:“Yes,ifyouturnofftotheleft,youwillfindthemwaitingbythebridge.”Weturnedupasideroad,andinthefailinglightIdiscernedasecondcar,

waitingbythesideoftheroad.Itcontainedtwomeninplainclothes.Poirotgotdown and spoke to them, and thenwe started off in a northerly direction, theothercarfollowingclosebehind.

Wedroveforsometime,ourobjectivebeingobviouslyoneofthenorthernsuburbs of London. Finally, we drove up to the front door of a tall house,standingalittlebackfromtheroadinitsowngrounds.

NormanandIwereleftinthecar.Poirotandoneofthedetectiveswentuptothedoorandrang.Aneatparlourmaidopenedit.Thedetectivespoke.

“Iamapoliceofficer,andIhaveawarranttosearchthishouse.”The girl gave a little scream, and a tall, handsomewoman ofmiddle age

appearedbehindherinthehall.

“Shutthedoor,Edith.Theyareburglars,Iexpect.”But Poirot swiftly inserted his foot in the door, and at the samemoment

blewawhistle.Instantlytheotherdetectivesranup,andpouredintothehouse,shuttingthedoorbehindthem.

NormanandIspentaboutfiveminutescursingourforcedinactivity.Finallythedoor reopened, and themen emerged, escorting threeprisoners—awomanandtwomen.Thewoman,andoneofthemen,weretakentothesecondcar.TheothermanwasplacedinourcarbyPoirothimself.

“Imustgowiththeothers,myfriend.Buthavegreatcareofthisgentleman.Youdonotknowhim,no?Ehbien,letmepresenttoyou,MonsieurO’Murphy!”

O’Murphy! Igapedathimopen-mouthedaswestartedagain.Hewasnothandcuffed,but Ididnot fancyhewould try toescape.Hesat therestaring infront of him as though dazed.Anyway,Norman and Iwould bemore than amatchforhim.

Tomy surprise, we still kept a northerly route.Wewere not returning toLondon, then! I was much puzzled. Suddenly, as the car slowed down, Irecognized that we were close to Hendon Aerodrome. Immediately I graspedPoirot’sidea.HeproposedtoreachFrancebyaeroplane.

Itwasasportingidea,but,onthefaceofit,impracticable.Atelegramwouldbe far quicker. Time was everything. He must leave the personal glory ofrescuingthePrimeMinistertoothers.

Aswedrewup,MajorNormanjumpedout,andaplainclothesmantookhisplace.HeconferredwithPoirotforafewminutes,andthenwentoffbriskly.

I,too,jumpedout,andcaughtPoirotbythearm.“Icongratulateyou,oldfellow!Theyhavetoldyouthehidingplace?But,

look here, you must wire to France at once. You’ll be too late if you goyourself.”

Poirotlookedatmecuriouslyforaminuteortwo.“Unfortunately, my friend, there are some things that cannot be sent by

telegram.”

IIIAtthatmomentMajorNormanreturned,accompaniedbyayoungofficerintheuniformoftheFlyingCorps.

“This is Captain Lyall, who will fly you over to France. He can start atonce.”

“Wrapupwarmly,sir,”saidtheyoungpilot.“Icanlendyouacoat,ifyoulike.”

Poirotwasconsultinghisenormouswatch.Hemurmuredtohimself:“Yes,there is time—just time.”Thenhe lookedupandbowedpolitely to theyoungofficer.“Ithankyou,monsieur.ButitisnotIwhoamyourpassenger.Itisthisgentlemanhere.”

Hemoveda littleasideashespoke,anda figurecameforwardoutof thedarkness.Itwasthesecondmaleprisonerwhohadgoneintheothercar,andasthelightfellonhisface,Igaveastartofsurprise.

ItwasthePrimeMinister!

IV“ForHeaven’ssake,tellmeallaboutit,”Icriedimpatiently,asPoirot,NormanandImotoredbacktoLondon.“HowintheworlddidtheymanagetosmugglehimbacktoEngland?”

“Therewasnoneedtosmugglehimback,”repliedPoirotdryly.“ThePrimeMinisterhasneverleftEngland.HewaskidnappedonhiswayfromWindsortoLondon.”

“What?”“Iwillmakeallclear.ThePrimeMinisterwasinhiscar,hissecretarybeside

him.Suddenlyapadofchloroformisclappedonhisface—”“Butbywhom?”“BythecleverlinguisticCaptainDaniels.AssoonasthePrimeMinisteris

unconscious,Danielspicksupthespeakingtube,anddirectsO’Murphytoturnto the right,which the chauffeur, quite unsuspicious, does.A fewyards downthatunfrequentedroadalargecarisstanding,apparentlybrokendown.Itsdriversignals to O’Murphy to stop. O’Murphy slows up. The stranger approaches.Danielsleansoutofthewindow,and,probablywiththeaidofaninstantaneousanaesthetic, such as ethylchloride, the chloroform trick is repeated. In a fewseconds, thetwohelplessmenaredraggedoutandtransferredtotheothercar,andapairofsubstitutestaketheirplaces.”

“Impossible!”“Pasdutout!Haveyounotseenmusichallturnsimitatingcelebritieswith

marvellousaccuracy?Nothingiseasierthantopersonateapubliccharacter.ThePrimeMinister ofEngland is far easier to understudy thanMr. JohnSmith ofClapham, say. As for O’Murphy’s ‘double,’ no one was going to take muchnotice of him until after the departure of the PrimeMinister, and by then hewouldhavemadehimselfscarce.HedrivesstraightfromCharingCross to themeetingplaceofhisfriends.HegoesinasO’Murphy,heemergesassomeonequite different. O’Murphy has disappeared, leaving a conveniently suspicioustrailbehindhim.”

“ButthemanwhopersonatedthePrimeMinisterwasseenbyeveryone!”“Hewas not seen by anyonewho knew him privately or intimately. And

Danielsshieldedhimfromcontactwithanyoneasmuchaspossible.Moreover,his facewas bandaged up, and anything unusual in hismanner would be putdowntothefactthathewassufferingfromshockasaresultoftheattemptuponhislife.Mr.MacAdamhasaweakthroat,andalwaysspareshisvoiceasmuchaspossiblebeforeanygreatspeech.ThedeceptionwasperfectlyeasytokeepupasfarasFrance.Thereitwouldbeimpracticableandimpossible—sothePrimeMinisterdisappears.ThepoliceofthiscountryhurryacrosstheChannel,andnoonebothers togointothedetailsof thefirstattack.TosustaintheillusionthattheabductionhastakenplaceinFrance,Danielsisgaggedandchloroformedinaconvincingmanner.”

“AndthemanwhohasenactedthepartofthePrimeMinister?”“Ridshimselfofhisdisguise.Heandtheboguschauffeurmaybearrestedas

suspiciouscharacters,butnoonewilldreamofsuspectingtheirrealpartinthedrama,andtheywilleventuallybereleasedforlackofevidence.”

“AndtherealPrimeMinister?”“HeandO’Murphyweredrivenstraight to thehouseof‘Mrs.Everard,’at

Hampstead,Daniels’so-called‘aunt.’Inreality,sheisFrauBerthaEbenthal,andthepolicehavebeenlookingforherforsometime.ItisavaluablelittlepresentthatIhavemadethem—tosaynothingofDaniels!Ah,itwasacleverplan,buthedidnotreckonontheclevernessofHerculePoirot!”

Ithinkmyfriendmightwellbeexcusedhismomentofvanity.“Whendidyoufirstbegintosuspectthetruthofthematter?”“WhenIbegantoworktherightway—fromwithin!Icouldnotmakethat

shootingaffairfitin—butwhenIsawthatthenetresultofitwasthatthePrimeMinisterwent toFrancewith his face bound up I began to comprehend!AndwhenIvisitedallthecottagehospitalsbetweenWindsorandLondon,andfoundthatnooneansweringtomydescriptionhadhadhisfaceboundupanddressedthatmorning,Iwassure!Afterthat,itwaschild’splayforamindlikemine!”

Thefollowingmorning,Poirotshowedmeatelegramhehadjustreceived.Ithadnoplaceoforigin,andwasunsigned.Itran:

“Intime.”Later in the day the evening papers published an account of the Allied

Conference.They laidparticular stresson themagnificentovationaccorded toMr.DavidMacAdam,whoseinspiringspeechhadproducedadeepandlastingimpression.

Nine

THE D ISAPPEARANCEOFM R . DAVENHEIM

PoirotandIwereexpectingouroldfriendInspectorJappofScotlandYardto

tea. We were sitting round the tea-table awaiting his arrival. Poirot had justfinishedcarefullystraighteningthecupsandsaucerswhichourlandladywasinthe habit of throwing, rather than placing, on the table. He had also breathedheavilyonthemetalteapot,andpolisheditwithasilkhandkerchief.Thekettlewas on the boil, and a small enamel saucepan beside it contained some thick,sweet chocolatewhichwasmore to Poirot’s palate thanwhat he described as“yourEnglishpoison.”

Asharp“rat-tat”soundedbelow,andafewminutesafterwardsJappenteredbriskly.

“Hope I’m not late,” he said as he greeted us. “To tell the truth, I wasyarningwithMiller,themanwho’sinchargeoftheDavenheimcase.”

Iprickedupmyears.Forthelastthreedaysthepapershadbeenfullofthestrange disappearance of Mr. Davenheim, senior partner of Davenheim andSalmon,thewell-knownbankersandfinanciers.OnSaturdaylasthehadwalkedoutofhishouse,andhadneverbeenseensince.IlookedforwardtoextractingsomeinterestingdetailsfromJapp.

“Ishouldhavethought,”Iremarked,“thatitwouldbealmostimpossibleforanyoneto‘disappear’nowadays.”

Poirot moved a plate of bread and butter the eighth of an inch, and saidsharply:

“Beexact,myfriend.Whatdoyoumeanby‘disappear?’Towhichclassofdisappearanceareyoureferring?”

“Aredisappearancesclassifiedandlabelled,then?”Ilaughed.Jappsmiledalso.Poirotfrownedatbothofus.“But certainly they are! They fall into three categories: First, and most

common, the voluntary disappearance. Second, the much abused ‘loss ofmemory’case—rare,butoccasionallygenuine.Third,murder,andamoreorlesssuccessful disposal of the body. Do you refer to all three as impossible ofexecution?”

“Very nearly so, I should think. You might lose your own memory, butsomeone would be sure to recognize you—especially in the case of a well-knownmanlikeDavenheim.Then‘bodies’can’tbemadetovanishintothinair.Soonerorlatertheyturnup,concealedinlonelyplaces,orintrunks.Murderwillout.Inthesameway,theabscondingclerk,orthedomesticdefaulter,isboundtobe run down in these days ofwireless telegraphy.He can be headed off fromforeigncountries;portsandrailwaystationsarewatched;andasforconcealmentinthiscountry,hisfeaturesandappearancewillbeknowntoeveryonewhoreadsadailynewspaper.He’supagainstcivilization.”

“Monami,”saidPoirot,“youmakeoneerror.Youdonotallowforthefactthatamanwhohaddecidedtomakeawaywithanotherman—orwithhimselfina figurative sense—might be that rare machine, a man of method. He mightbringintelligence,talent,acarefulcalculationofdetailtothetask;andthenIdonotseewhyheshouldnotbesuccessfulinbafflingthepoliceforce.”

“Butnotyou,Isuppose?”saidJappgood-humouredly,winkingatme.“Hecouldn’tbaffleyou,eh,MonsieurPoirot?”

Poirot endeavoured, with amarked lack of success, to lookmodest. “Mealso!Whynot?ItistruethatIapproachsuchproblemswithanexactscience,amathematicalprecision,whichseems,alas,onlytoorarein thenewgenerationofdetectives!”

Jappgrinnedmorewidely.“Idon’tknow,”hesaid.“Miller,themanwho’sonthiscase,isasmartchap.

Youmaybeverysurehewon’toverlookafootprint,oracigarash,oracrumb

even.He’sgoteyesthatseeeverything.”“So,monami,” said Poirot, “has theLondon sparrow.But all the same, I

shouldnotaskthelittlebrownbirdtosolvetheproblemofMr.Davenheim.”“Comenow,monsieur,you’renotgoingtorundownthevalueofdetailsas

clues?”“Bynomeans.These things are all good in theirway.Thedanger is they

may assume undue importance.Most details are insignificant; one or two arevital. It is thebrain, the littlegreycells”—he tappedhis forehead—“onwhichone must rely. The senses mislead. One must seek the truth within—notwithout.”

“Youdon’tmeantosay,MonsieurPoirot,thatyouwouldundertaketosolveacasewithoutmovingfromyourchair,doyou?”

“ThatisexactlywhatIdomean—grantedthefactswereplacedbeforeme.Iregardmyselfasaconsultingspecialist.”

Jappslappedhisknee.“HangedifIdon’ttakeyouatyourword.Betyouafiverthatyoucan’tlayyourhand—orrathertellmewheretolaymyhand—onMr.Davenheim,deadoralive,beforeaweekisout.”

Poirotconsidered.“Ehbien,monami,Iaccept.Lesport,itisthepassionofyouEnglish.Now—thefacts.”

“OnSaturday last, as is his usual custom,Mr.Davenheim took the 12:40trainfromVictoriatoChingside,wherehispalatialcountryseat,TheCedars,issituated.Afterlunch,hestrolledroundthegrounds,andgavevariousdirectionsto thegardeners.Everybodyagrees thathismannerwasabsolutelynormalandas usual.After tea he put his head into hiswife’s boudoir, saying that hewasgoingtostrolldowntothevillageandpostsomeletters.Headdedthathewasexpecting a Mr. Lowen, on business. If he should come before he himselfreturned,hewastobeshownintothestudyandaskedtowait.Mr.Davenheimthenleftthehousebythefrontdoor,passedleisurelydownthedrive,andoutatthegate,and—wasneverseenagain.Fromthathour,hevanishedcompletely.”

“Pretty—very pretty—altogether a charming little problem,” murmured

Poirot.“Proceed,mygoodfriend.”“About a quarter of an hour later a tall, dark man with a thick black

moustache rang the front doorbell, and explained that he had an appointmentwithMr.Davenheim.HegavethenameofLowen,andinaccordancewiththebanker’s instructions was shown into the study. Nearly an hour passed.Mr.Davenheimdidnotreturn.FinallyMr.Lowenrangthebell,andexplainedthathewasunabletowaitanylonger,ashemustcatchhistrainbacktotown.

Mrs. Davenheim apologized for her husband’s absence, which seemedunaccountable,assheknewhimtohavebeenexpectingthevisitor.Mr.Lowenreiteratedhisregretsandtookhisdeparture.

“Well,aseveryoneknows,Mr.Davenheimdidnotreturn.EarlyonSundaymorning thepolicewerecommunicatedwith,butcouldmakeneitherheadnortailofthematter.Mr.Davenheimseemedliterallytohavevanishedintothinair.He had not been to the post office; nor had he been seen passing through thevillage.Atthestationtheywerepositivehehadnotdepartedbyanytrain.Hisownmotorhadnot left thegarage. Ifhehadhireda car tomeethim in somelonelyspot,itseemsalmostcertainthatbythistime,inviewofthelargerewardofferedforinformation,thedriverofitwouldhavecomeforwardtotellwhatheknew.True,therewasasmallracemeetingatEntfield,fivemilesaway,andifhehadwalked to that station hemight have passed unnoticed in the crowd. Butsincethenhisphotographandafulldescriptionofhimhavebeencirculatedineverynewspaper,andnobodyhasbeenabletogiveanynewsofhim.Wehave,ofcourse,receivedmanylettersfromalloverEngland,buteachclue,sofar,hasendedindisappointment.

“OnMondaymorningafurthersensationaldiscoverycametolight.BehindaportièreinMr.Davenheim’sstudystandsasafe,andthatsafehadbeenbrokenintoandrifled.Thewindowswerefastenedsecurelyontheinside,whichseemstoputanordinaryburglaryoutofcourt,unless,ofcourse,anaccomplicewithinthe house fastened them again afterwards. On the other hand, Sunday having

intervened, and the household being in a state of chaos, it is likely that theburglary was committed on the Saturday, and remained undetected untilMonday.”

“Précisément,” said Poirot dryly. “Well, is he arrested, ce pauvre M.Lowen?”

Jappgrinned.“Notyet.Buthe’sunderprettyclosesupervision.”Poirotnodded.“Whatwastakenfromthesafe?Haveyouanyidea?”“We’ve been going into that with the junior partner of the firm and

Mrs.Davenheim.Apparentlytherewasaconsiderableamountinbearerbonds,andaverylargesuminnotes,owingtosomelargetransactionhavingbeenjustcarried through. There was also a small fortune in jewellery. AllMrs. Davenheim’s jewels were kept in the safe. The purchasing of them hadbecomeapassionwithherhusbandoflateyears,andhardlyamonthpassedthathedidnotmakeherapresentofsomerareandcostlygem.”

“Altogether a good haul,” said Poirot thoughtfully. “Now, what aboutLowen?IsitknownwhathisbusinesswaswithDavenheimthatevening?”

“Well, the twomenwere apparently not on very good terms. Lowen is aspeculatorinquiteasmallway.Nevertheless,hehasbeenableonceortwicetoscoreacoupoffDavenheiminthemarket,thoughitseemstheyseldomorneveractuallymet.ItwasamatterconcerningsomeSouthAmericanshareswhichledthebankertomakehisappointment.”

“HadDavenheiminterestsinSouthAmerica,then?”“I believe so.Mrs.Davenheim happened tomention that he spent all last

autumninBuenosAires.”“Anytroubleinhishomelife?Werethehusbandandwifeongoodterms?”“I should say his domestic life was quite peaceful and uneventful.

Mrs.Davenheimisapleasant, ratherunintelligentwoman.Quiteanonentity, Ithink.”

“Thenwemustnot lookfor thesolutionof themystery there.Hadheanyenemies?”

“He had plenty of financial rivals, and no doubt there are many peoplewhomhehasgot thebetterofwhobearhimnoparticulargoodwill.But therewasnoonelikelytomakeawaywithhim—and,iftheyhad,whereisthebody?”

“Exactly.AsHastingssays,bodieshaveahabitofcomingtolightwithfatalpersistency.”

“Bytheway,oneofthegardenerssayshesawafiguregoingroundtothesideofthehousetowardstherosegarden.Thelongfrenchwindowofthestudyopensontotherosegarden,andMr.Davenheimfrequentlyenteredandleftthehouse thatway.But themanwasagoodwayoff, atworkon somecucumberframes,andcannotevensaywhetheritwasthefigureofhismasterornot.Also,hecannot fix the timewithanyaccuracy. Itmusthavebeenbefore six, as thegardenersceaseworkatthattime.”

“AndMr.Davenheimleftthehouse?”“Abouthalfpastfiveorthereabouts.”“Whatliesbeyondtherosegarden?”“Alake.”“Withaboathouse?”“Yes,acoupleofpuntsarekeptthere.Isupposeyou’rethinkingofsuicide,

Monsieur Poirot? Well, I don’t mind telling you that Miller’s going downtomorrowexpresslytoseethatpieceofwaterdragged.That’sthekindofmanheis!”

Poirotsmiledfaintly,andturnedtome.“Hastings,Iprayyou,handmethatcopy ofDailyMegaphone. If I remember rightly, there is an unusually clearphotographthereofthemissingman.”

Irose,andfoundthesheetrequired.Poirotstudiedthefeaturesattentively.“H’m!”hemurmured.“Wearshishairratherlongandwavy,fullmoustache

andpointedbeard,bushyeyebrows.Eyesdark?”“Yes.”“Hairandbeardturninggrey?”Thedetectivenodded.“Well,MonsieurPoirot,whathaveyougottosaytoit

all?Clearasdaylight,eh?”“Onthecontrary,mostobscure.”TheScotlandYardmanlookedpleased.“Whichgivesmegreathopesofsolvingit,”finishedPoirotplacidly.“Eh?”“Ifinditagoodsignwhenacaseisobscure.Ifathingisclearasdaylight

—ehbien,mistrustit!Someonehasmadeitso.”Jappshookhisheadalmostpityingly.“Well,eachtotheirfancy.Butit’snot

abadthingtoseeyourwayclearahead.”“Idonotsee,”murmuredPoirot.“Ishutmyeyes—andthink.”Jappsighed.“Well,you’vegotaclearweektothinkin.”“Andyouwillbringmeanyfreshdevelopmentsthatarise—theresultofthe

laboursofthehardworkingandlynx-eyedInspectorMiller,forinstance?”“Certainly.That’sinthebargain.”“Seemsashame,doesn’tit?”saidJapptomeasIaccompaniedhimtothe

door.“Likerobbingachild!”Icouldnothelpagreeingwithasmile.IwasstillsmilingasIreenteredthe

room.“Ehbien!”saidPoirotimmediately.“YoumakefunofPapaPoirot,isitnot

so?”Heshookhisfingeratme.“Youdonottrusthisgreycells?Ah,donotbeconfused! Let us discuss this little problem—incomplete as yet, I admit, butalreadyshowingoneortwopointsofinterest.”

“Thelake!”Isaidsignificantly.“Andevenmorethanthelake,theboathouse!”IlookedsidewiseatPoirot.Hewassmilinginhismostinscrutablefashion.I

feltthat,forthemoment,itwouldbequiteuselesstoquestionhimfurther.Weheardnothingof Jappuntil the followingevening,whenhewalked in

about nine o’clock. I saw at once byhis expression that hewas burstingwithnewsofsomekind.

“Ehbien,myfriend,”remarkedPoirot.“Allgoeswell?Butdonot tellme

that you have discovered the body ofMr.Davenheim in your lake, because Ishallnotbelieveyou.”

“We haven’t found the body, but we did find his clothes—the identicalclotheshewaswearingthatday.Whatdoyousaytothat?”

“Anyotherclothesmissingfromthehouse?”“No,hisvaletwasquitepositiveonthatpoint.Therestofhiswardrobeis

intact.There’smore.We’vearrestedLowen.Oneofthemaids,whosebusinessitistofastenthebedroomwindows,declaresthatshesawLowencomingtowardsthestudythroughtherosegardenaboutaquarterpastsix.Thatwouldbeabouttenminutesbeforeheleftthehouse.”

“Whatdoeshehimselfsaytothat?”“Deniedfirstofallthathehadeverleftthestudy.Butthemaidwaspositive,

and he pretended afterwards that he had forgotten just stepping out of thewindowtoexamineanunusualspeciesofrose.Ratheraweakstory!Andthere’sfreshevidenceagainsthimcome to light.Mr.Davenheimalwaysworea thickgoldringsetwithasolitairediamondonthelittlefingerofhisrighthand.Well,thatringwaspawnedinLondononSaturdaynightbyamancalledBillyKellett!He’s alreadyknown to thepolice—did threemonths last autumn for liftinganoldgentleman’swatch. It seemshe tried to pawn the ring at no less than fivedifferentplaces,succeededatthelastone,gotgloriouslydrunkontheproceeds,assaultedapoliceman,andwasrunininconsequence.IwenttoBowStreetwithMiller and saw him. He’s sober enough now, and I don’t mind admitting wepretty well frightened the life out of him, hinting he might be charged withmurder.Thisishisyarn,andaveryqueeroneitis.

“HewasatEntfieldracesonSaturday,thoughIdaresayscarfpinswashislineofbusiness,ratherthanbetting.Anyway,hehadabadday,andwasdownonhisluck.HewastrampingalongtheroadtoChingside,andsatdowninaditchtorestjustbeforehegotintothevillage.Afewminuteslaterhenoticedamancoming along the road to the village, ‘dark-complexioned gent, with a bigmoustache,oneofthemcitytoffs,’ishisdescriptionoftheman.

“Kellettwashalfconcealedfromtheroadbyaheapofstones.Justbeforehegotabreastofhim,themanlookedquicklyupanddowntheroad,andseeingitapparentlydesertedhetookasmallobjectfromhispocketandthrewitoverthehedge.Thenhewentontowardsthestation.Now,theobjecthehadthrownoverthe hedge had fallen with a slight ‘chink’ which aroused the curiosity of thehumanderelictintheditch.Heinvestigatedand,afterashortsearch,discoveredthering!ThatisKellett’sstory.It’sonlyfairtosaythatLowendeniesitutterly,andofcoursethewordofamanlikeKellettcan’tberelieduponintheslightest.It’s within the bounds of possibility that he met Davenheim in the lane androbbedandmurderedhim.”

Poirotshookhishead.“Veryimprobable,monami.Hehadnomeansofdisposingof thebody. It

wouldhavebeenfoundbynow.Secondly,theopenwayinwhichhepawnedtheringmakes itunlikely thathedidmurder toget it.Thirdly,yoursneak thief israrelyamurderer.Fourthly,ashehasbeeninprisonsinceSaturday,itwouldbetoomuchof a coincidence that he is able to give so accurate a description ofLowen.”

Jappnodded.“Idon’tsayyou’renotright.Butallthesame,youwon’tgetajury to takemuchnoteof a jailbird’s evidence.What seemsodd tome is thatLowencouldn’tfindaclevererwayofdisposingofthering.”

Poirot shrugged his shoulders. “Well, after all, if it were found in theneighbourhood,itmightbearguedthatDavenheimhimselfhaddroppedit.”

“Butwhyremoveitfromthebodyatall?”Icried.“There might be a reason for that,” said Japp. “Do you know that just

beyondthelake,alittlegateleadsoutontothehill,andnotthreeminutes’walkbringsyouto—whatdoyouthink?—alimekiln.”

“Goodheavens!”Icried.“Youmeanthatthelimewhichdestroyedthebodywouldbepowerlesstoaffectthemetalofthering?”

“Exactly.”“It seems to me,” I said, “that that explains everything. What a horrible

crime!”BycommonconsentwebothturnedandlookedatPoirot.Heseemedlostin

reflection,hisbrowknitted,asthoughwithsomesupremementaleffort.Ifeltatlast his keen intellectwas asserting itself.Whatwould his firstwords be?Wewerenotlongleft indoubt.Withasigh,thetensionofhisattituderelaxedandturningtoJapp,heasked:

“Haveyouanyidea,myfriend,whetherMr.andMrs.Davenheimoccupiedthesamebedroom?”

Thequestionseemedsoludicrouslyinappropriatethatforamomentwebothstaredinsilence.ThenJappburstintoalaugh.“GoodLord,MonsieurPoirot,Ithoughtyouwerecomingoutwithsomethingstartling.Astoyourquestion,I’msureIdon’tknow.”

“Youcouldfindout?”askedPoirotwithcuriouspersistence.“Oh,certainly—ifyoureallywanttoknow.”“Merci,monami.Ishouldbeobligedifyouwouldmakeapointofit.”Jappstaredathimafewminuteslonger,butPoirotseemedtohaveforgotten

usboth.Thedetective shookhis head sadly atme, andmurmuring, “Pooroldfellow!War’sbeentoomuchforhim!”gentlywithdrewfromtheroom.

AsPoirotseemedsunkinadaydream,Itookasheetofpaper,andamusedmyselfbyscribblingnotesuponit.Myfriend’svoicearousedme.Hehadcomeoutofhisreverie,andwaslookingbriskandalert.

“Quefaites-vouslà,monami?”“Iwas jottingdownwhatoccurred tomeas themainpointsof interest in

thisaffair.”“Youbecomemethodical—atlast!”saidPoirotapprovingly.Iconcealedmypleasure.“ShallIreadthemtoyou?”“Byallmeans.”Iclearedmythroat.“‘One:AlltheevidencepointstoLowenhavingbeenthemanwhoforced

thesafe.

“‘Two:HehadagrudgeagainstDavenheim.“‘Three:Heliedinhisfirststatementthathehadneverleftthestudy.“ ‘Four: IfyouacceptBillyKellett’sstoryas true,Lowen isunmistakably

implicated.’”Ipaused.“Well?”Iasked,forIfeltthatIhadputmyfingeronallthevital

facts.Poirot looked atmepityingly, shaking his head very gently. “Mon pauvre

ami!Butitisthatyouhavenotthegift!Theimportantdetail,youappreciatehimnever!Also,yourreasoningisfalse.”

“How?”“Letmetakeyourfourpoints.”“One:Mr.Lowencouldnotpossiblyknowthathewouldhavethechanceto

openthesafe.Hecameforabusinessinterview.Hecouldnotknowbeforehandthat Mr. Davenheim would be absent posting a letter, and that he wouldconsequentlybealoneinthestudy!”

“Hemighthaveseizedtheopportunity,”Isuggested.“Andthetools?Citygentlemendonotcarryroundhousebreaker’stoolson

the off chance! And one could not cut into that safe with penknife, bienentendu!”

“Well,whataboutNumberTwo?”“YousayLowenhadagrudgeagainstMr.Davenheim.Whatyoumean is

that he had once or twice got the better of him. And presumably thosetransactionswereentered intowith theviewofbenefitinghimself. Inanycaseyoudonotasarulebearagrudgeagainstamanyouhavegotthebetterof—itismorelikelytobetheotherwayabout.WhatevergrudgetheremighthavebeenwouldhavebeenonMr.Davenheim’sside.”

“Well,youcan’tdenythatheliedaboutneverhavingleftthestudy?”“No. But he may have been frightened. Remember, the missing man’s

clotheshadjustbeendiscoveredinthelake.Ofcourse,asusual,hewouldhavedonebettertospeakthetruth.”

“Andthefourthpoint?”“Igrantyouthat.IfKellett’sstoryistrue,Lowenisundeniablyimplicated.

Thatiswhatmakestheaffairsoveryinteresting.”“ThenIdidappreciateonevitalfact?”“Perhaps—butyouhaveentirelyoverlookedthetwomostimportantpoints,

theoneswhichundoubtedlyholdthecluetothewholematter.”“Andpray,whatarethey?”“One, the passionwhich has grown uponMr. Davenheim in the last few

yearsforbuyingjewellery.Two,histriptoBuenosAireslastautumn.”“Poirot,youarejoking?”“Iamserious.Ah,sacredthunder,butIhopeJappwillnotforgetmylittle

commission.”Butthedetective,enteringintothespiritofthejoke,hadremembereditso

wellthatatelegramwashandedtoPoirotabouteleveno’clockthenextday.AthisrequestIopeneditandreaditout:

“‘Husbandandwifehaveoccupiedseparateroomssincelastwinter.’”

“Aha!”criedPoirot.“AndnowweareinmidJune!Allissolved!”Istaredathim.“YouhavenomoneysinthebankofDavenheimandSalmon,monami?”“No,”Isaidwondering.“Why?”“BecauseIshouldadviseyoutowithdrawit—beforeitistoolate.”“Why,whatdoyouexpect?”“Iexpectabigsmash ina fewdays—perhapssooner.Which remindsme,

wewillreturnthecomplimentofadépêchetoJapp.Apencil,Iprayyou,andaform. Voilà! “Advise you to withdraw any money deposited with firm inquestion.” That will intrigue him, the good Japp! His eyes will open wide—wide!Hewillnotcomprehendintheslightest—untiltomorrow,orthenextday!”

I remained sceptical, but the morrow forced me to render tribute to myfriend’s remarkable powers. In every paperwas a huge headline telling of thesensational failure of the Davenheim bank. The disappearance of the famousfinancier tookon a totally different aspect in the light of the revelation of thefinancialaffairsofthebank.

Before we were halfway through breakfast, the door flew open and Japprushedin.Inhislefthandwasapaper;inhisrightwasPoirot’stelegram,whichhebangeddownonthetableinfrontofmyfriend.

“Howdidyouknow,MonsieurPoirot?Howtheblazescouldyouknow?”Poirot smiled placidly at him. “Ah, mon ami, after your wire, it was a

certainty!Fromthecommencement,seeyou,itstruckmethatthesafeburglarywas somewhat remarkable. Jewels, ready money, bearer bonds—all soconvenientlyarrangedfor—whom?Well,thegoodMonsieurDavenheimwasofthose who ‘look after Number One’ as your saying goes! It seemed almostcertain that it was arranged for—himself! Then his passion of late years forbuying jewellery! How simple! The funds he embezzled, he converted intojewels, very likely replacing them in turnwithpasteduplicates, and soheputawayinasafeplace,underanothername,aconsiderablefortunetobeenjoyedallingoodtimewheneveryonehasbeenthrownoffthetrack.Hisarrangementscompleted,hemakesanappointmentwithMr.Lowen(whohasbeenimprudentenoughinthepasttocrossthegreatmanonceortwice),drillsaholeinthesafe,leavesordersthat theguest is tobeshownintothestudy,andwalksoutofthehouse—where?” Poirot stopped, and stretched out his hand for another boiledegg.Hefrowned.“Itisreallyinsupportable,”hemurmured,“thateveryhenlaysaneggofadifferentsize!Whatsymmetrycantherebeonthebreakfasttable?Atleasttheyshouldsortthemindozensattheshop!”

“Nevermind the eggs,” said Japp impatiently. “Let ’em lay ’em square iftheylike.TelluswhereourcustomerwenttowhenheleftTheCedars—thatis,ifyouknow!”

“Ehbien,hewenttohishidingplace.Ah,thisMonsieurDavenheim,there

maybesomemalformationinhisgreycells,buttheyareofthefirstquality!”“Doyouknowwhereheishiding?”“Certainly!Itismostingenious.”“FortheLord’ssake,tellus,then!”Poirotgentlycollectedeveryfragmentofshellfromhisplate,placedthem

in the egg-cup, and reversed the empty eggshell on top of them. This littleoperation concluded, he smiled on the neat effect, and then beamedaffectionatelyonusboth.

“Come,myfriends,youaremenofintelligence.AskyourselfthequestionIaskedmyself.‘IfIwerethisman,whereshouldIhide?’Hastings,whatdoyousay?”

“Well,”Isaid,“I’mratherinclinedtothinkI’dnotdoaboltatall.I’dstayinLondon—intheheartofthings,travelbytubesandbuses;tentooneI’dneverberecognized.There’ssafetyinacrowd.”

PoirotturnedinquiringlytoJapp.“Idon’tagree.Getclearawayatonce—that’stheonlychance.Iwouldhave

hadplentyoftimetopreparethingsbeforehand.I’dhaveayachtwaiting,withsteamup,andI’dbeofftooneofthemostout-of-the-waycornersoftheworldbeforethehueandcrybegan!”

WebothlookedatPoirot.“Whatdoyousay,monsieur?”Foramomenthe remainedsilent.Thenaverycurioussmile flittedacross

hisface.“Myfriends,ifIwerehidingfromthepolice,doyouknowwhereIshould

hide?Inaprison!”“What?”“YouareseekingMonsieurDavenheiminordertoputhiminprison,soyou

neverdreamoflookingtoseeifhemaynotbealreadythere!”“Whatdoyoumean?”“You tell me Madame Davenheim is not a very intelligent woman.

Nevertheless I think ifyou tookherup toBowStreetandconfrontedherwith

themanBillyKellettshewouldrecognizehim!Inspiteof thefact thathehasshavedhisbeardandmoustacheandthosebushyeyebrows,andhascroppedhishair close.Awomannearlyalwaysknowsherhusband, though the restof theworldmaybedeceived.”

“BillyKellett?Buthe’sknowntothepolice!”“DidInottellyouDavenheimwasacleverman?Hepreparedhisalibilong

beforehand. He was not in Buenos Aires last autumn—he was creating thecharacterofBillyKellett,‘doingthreemonths,’sothatthepoliceshouldhavenosuspicionswhenthetimecame.Hewasplaying,remember,foralargefortune,aswellasliberty.Itwasworthwhiledoingthethingthoroughly.Only—”

“Yes?”“Ehbien,afterwardshehadtowearafalsebeardandwig,hadtomakeup

ashimselfagain,andtosleepwithafalsebeardisnoteasy—itinvitesdetection!Hecannotriskcontinuingtosharethechamberofmadamehiswife.Youfoundout forme that for the last sixmonths,orever sincehis supposed return fromBuenos Aires, he andMrs. Davenheim occupied separate rooms. Then I wassure!Everything fitted in.The gardenerwho fancied he sawhismaster goingroundtothesideofthehousewasquiteright.Hewenttotheboathouse,donnedhis‘tramp’clothes,whichyoumaybesurehadbeensafelyhiddenfromtheeyesofhisvalet,droppedtheothersinthelake,andproceededtocarryouthisplanby pawning the ring in an obvious manner, and then assaulting a policeman,gettinghimselfsafely into thehavenofBowStreet,wherenobodywouldeverdreamoflookingforhim!”

“It’simpossible,”murmuredJapp.“AskMadame,”saidmyfriend,smiling.ThenextdayaregisteredletterlaybesidePoirot’splate.Heopeneditanda

five-poundnoteflutteredout.Myfriend’sbrowpuckered.“Ah,sacré!Butwhat shall I dowith it? I havemuch remorse!Ce pauvre

Japp?Ah,anidea!Wewillhavealittledinner,wethree!Thatconsolesme.Itwas really too easy. I am ashamed. I, who would not rob a child—mille

tonnerres!Monami,whathaveyou,thatyoulaughsoheartily?”

Ten

THE A DVENTUREOF THE

ITALIAN N OBLEMAN

Poirot and I had many friends and acquaintances of an informal nature.

AmongstthesewastobenumberedDr.Hawker,anearneighbourofours,andamember of themedical profession. Itwas the genial doctor’s habit to drop insometimesofaneveningandhaveachatwithPoirot,ofwhosegeniushewasanardent admirer. The doctor himself, frank and unsuspicious to the last degree,admiredthetalentssofarremovedfromhisown.

OnoneparticulareveninginearlyJune,hearrivedabouthalfpasteightandsettleddowntoacomfortablediscussiononthecheerytopicoftheprevalenceofarsenicalpoisoningincrimes.Itmusthavebeenaboutaquarterofanhourlaterwhenthedoorofoursittingroomflewopen,andadistractedfemaleprecipitatedherselfintotheroom.

“Oh,doctor,you’rewanted!Suchaterriblevoice.Itgavemeaturn,itdidindeed.”

IrecognizedinournewvisitorDr.Hawker’shousekeeper,MissRider.Thedoctorwasabachelor,andlivedinagloomyoldhouseafewstreetsaway.TheusuallyplacidMissRiderwasnowinastateborderingonincoherence.

“Whatterriblevoice?Whoisit,andwhat’sthetrouble?”“Itwas the telephone,doctor. I answered it—andavoice spoke. ‘Help,’ it

said. ‘Doctor—help. They’ve killed me!’ Then it sort of tailed away. ‘Who’sspeaking?’ I said. ‘Who’s speaking?’ Then I got a reply, just a whisper, itseemed,‘Foscatine’—somethinglikethat—‘Regent’sCourt.’”

Thedoctorutteredanexclamation.

“CountFoscatini.HehasaflatinRegent’sCourt.Imustgoatonce.Whatcanhavehappened?”

“Apatientofyours?”askedPoirot.“Iattendedhimforsomeslightailmentafewweeksago.AnItalian,buthe

speaks English perfectly.Well, Imustwish you good night,Monsieur Poirot,unless—”Hehesitated.

“I perceive the thought in your mind,” said Poirot, smiling. “I shall bedelightedtoaccompanyyou.Hastings,rundownandgetholdofataxi.”

Taxisalwaysmake themselvessought forwhenone isparticularlypressedfor time, but I captured one at last, and we were soon bowling along in thedirectionofRegent’sPark.Regent’sCourtwasanewblockofflats,situatedjustoffSt.John’sWoodRoad.Theyhadonlyrecentlybeenbuilt,andcontainedthelatestservicedevices.

Therewasnooneinthehall.Thedoctorpressedtheliftbellimpatiently,andwhentheliftarrivedquestionedtheuniformedattendantsharply.

“Flat11.CountFoscatini.There’sbeenanaccidentthere,Iunderstand.”Themanstaredathim.“FirstI’veheardofit.Mr.Graves—that’sCountFoscatini’sman—wentout

abouthalfanhourago,andhesaidnothing.”“IstheCountaloneintheflat?”“No,sir,he’sgottwogentlemendiningwithhim.”“Whataretheylike?”Iaskedeagerly.Wewereintheliftnow,ascendingrapidlytothesecondfloor,onwhichFlat

11wassituated.“I didn’t see them myself, sir, but I understand that they were foreign

gentlemen.”Hepulledbacktheirondoor,andwesteppedoutonthelanding.No11was

oppositetous.Thedoctorrangthebell.Therewasnoreply,andwecouldhearnosoundfromwithin.Thedoctorrangagainandagain;wecouldhearthebelltrillingwithin,butnosignofliferewardedus.

“Thisisgettingserious,”mutteredthedoctor.Heturnedtotheliftattendant.“Isthereanypasskeytothisdoor?”“Thereisoneintheporter’sofficedownstairs.”“Getit,then,and,lookhere,Ithinkyou’dbettersendforthepolice.”Poirotapprovedwithanodofthehead.Themanreturnedshortly;withhimcamethemanager.“Willyoutellme,gentlemen,whatisthemeaningofallthis?”“Certainly.IreceivedatelephonemessagefromCountFoscatinistatingthat

hehadbeenattackedandwasdying.Youcanunderstandthatwemust losenotime—ifwearenotalreadytoolate.”

Themanager produced the keywithoutmore ado, andwe all entered theflat.

Wepassedfirst into thesmallsquare loungehall.Adoorontherightof itwashalfopen.Themanagerindicateditwithanod.

“Thediningroom.”Dr.Hawkerledtheway.Wefollowedcloseonhisheels.Asweenteredthe

roomIgaveagasp.The round table in thecentrebore the remainsofameal;threechairswerepushedback,as though theiroccupantshad just risen. In thecorner,totherightofthefireplace,wasabigwritingtable,andsittingatitwasaman—or what had been a man. His right hand still grasped the base of thetelephone,buthehadfallenforward,struckdownbyaterrificblowontheheadfrombehind.Theweaponwasnotfartoseek.Amarblestatuestoodwhereithadbeenhurriedlyputdown,thebaseofitstainedwithblood.

The doctor’s examination did not take aminute. “Stone dead.Must havebeenalmost instantaneous. Iwonderhe evenmanaged to telephone. Itwill bebetternottomovehimuntilthepolicearrive.”

On the manager’s suggestion we searched the flat, but the result was aforegone conclusion. It was not likely that themurdererswould be concealedtherewhenalltheyhadtodowastowalkout.

We came back to the dining room. Poirot had not accompanied us in ourtour.Ifoundhimstudyingthecentretablewithcloseattention.Ijoinedhim.Itwasawell-polishedroundmahoganytable.Abowlofrosesdecoratedthecentre,andwhitelacematsreposedonthegleamingsurface.Therewasadishoffruit,but the threedessertplateswereuntouched.Therewere threecoffeecupswithremainsofcoffeeinthem—twoblack,onewithmilk.All threemenhadtakenport, and thedecanter, half full, stoodbefore the centreplate.Oneof themenhad smoked a cigar, the other two cigarettes. A tortoiseshell-and-silver box,holdingcigarsandcigarettes,stoodopenuponthetable.

Ienumeratedallthesefactstomyself,butIwasforcedtoadmitthattheydidnotshedanybrilliantlightonthesituation.IwonderedwhatPoirotsawinthemtomakehimsointent.Iaskedhim.

“Monami,”hereplied,“youmissthepoint.IamlookingforsomethingthatIdonotsee.”

“Whatisthat?”“Amistake—evenalittlemistake—onthepartofthemurderer.”Hesteppedswiftlytothesmalladjoiningkitchen,lookedin,andshookhis

head.“Monsieur,”hesaidtothemanager,“explaintome,Ipray,yoursystemof

servingmealshere.”Themanagersteppedtoasmallhatchinthewall.“Thisistheservicelift,”heexplained.“Itrunstothekitchensatthetopof

thebuilding.Youorderthroughthistelephone,andthedishesaresentdowninthelift,onecourseatatime.Thedirtyplatesanddishesaresentupinthesamemanner.Nodomesticworries,youunderstand,andat thesametimeyouavoidthewearyingpublicityofalwaysdininginarestaurant.”

Poirotnodded.“Then the plates and dishes that were used tonight are on high in the

kitchen.YoupermitthatImountthere?”“Oh, certainly, if you like! Roberts, the lift man, will take you up and

introduceyou;butI’mafraidyouwon’tfindanythingthat’sofanyuse.They’rehandlinghundredsofplatesanddishes,andthey’llbealllumpedtogether.”

Poirot remained firm, however, and together we visited the kitchens andquestionedthemanwhohadtakentheorderfromFlat11.

“Theorderwasgiven from theà la cartemenu—for three,”heexplained.“Soup julienne, filet de sole normande, tournedos of beef, and a rice soufflé.Whattime?Justabouteighto’clock,Ishouldsay.No,I’mafraidtheplatesanddishes have been all washed up by now. Unfortunate. You were thinking offingerprints,Isuppose?”

“Notexactly,”saidPoirot,withanenigmaticalsmile.“IammoreinterestedinCountFoscatini’sappetite.Didhepartakeofeverydish?”

“Yes;butofcourseIcan’tsayhowmuchofeachheate.Theplateswereallsoiled, and the dishes empty—that is to say, with the exception of the ricesoufflé.Therewasafairamountofthatleft.”

“Ah!”saidPoirot,andseemedsatisfiedwiththefact.Aswedescendedtotheflatagainheremarkedinalowtone:“Wehavedecidedlytodowithamanofmethod.”“Doyoumeanthemurderer,orCountFoscatini?”“Thelatterwasundoubtedlyanorderlygentleman.Afterimploringhelpand

announcing his approaching demise, he carefully hung up the telephonereceiver.”

I stared at Poirot. His words now and his recent inquiries gave me theglimmeringofanidea.

“Yoususpectpoison?”Ibreathed.“Theblowontheheadwasablind.”Poirotmerelysmiled.Wereentered the flat to find the local inspectorofpolicehadarrivedwith

twoconstables.Hewasinclinedtoresentourappearance,butPoirotcalmedhimwith the mention of our Scotland Yard friend, Inspector Japp, and we wereaccordedagrudgingpermissiontoremain.Itwasaluckythingwewere,forwehad not been back five minutes before an agitated middle-aged man came

rushingintotheroomwitheveryappearanceofgriefandagitation.ThiswasGraves,valet-butlertothelateCountFoscatini.Thestoryhehad

totellwasasensationalone.Onthepreviousmorning,twogentlemenhadcalledtoseehismaster.They

wereItalians,andtheelderof the two,amanofaboutforty,gavehisnameasSignorAscanio.Theyoungerwasawell-dressedladofabouttwenty-four.

CountFoscatiniwasevidentlypreparedfortheirvisitandimmediatelysentGravesoutuponsometrivialerrand.Here themanpausedandhesitatedinhisstory. In the end, however, he admitted that, curious as to the purport of theinterview,hehadnotobeyedimmediately,buthadlingeredaboutendeavouringtohearsomethingofwhatwasgoingon.

The conversation was carried on in so low a tone that he was not assuccessfulashehadhoped;buthegatheredenoughtomakeitclear thatsomekindofmonetarypropositionwasbeingdiscussed,andthatthebasisofitwasathreat.The discussionwas anything but amicable. In the end,CountFoscatiniraisedhisvoiceslightly,andthelistenerheardthesewordsclearly:

“Ihavenotimetoarguefurthernow,gentlemen.Ifyouwilldinewithmetomorrownightateighto’clock,wewillresumethediscussion.”

Afraid of being discovered listening, Graves had then hurried out to do hismaster’s errand. This evening the two men had arrived punctually at eight.Duringdinnertheyhadtalkedofindifferentmatters—politics,theweather,andthe theatrical world. When Graves had placed the port upon the table andbroughtinthecoffeehismastertoldhimthathemighthavetheeveningoff.

“Was that a usual proceeding of his when he had guests?” asked theinspector.

“No,sir;itwasn’t.That’swhatmademethinkitmustbesomebusinessofaveryunusualkindthathewasgoingtodiscusswiththesegentlemen.”

That finishedGraves’s story.He had gone out about 8:30, andmeeting a

friend,hadaccompaniedhimtotheMetropolitanMusicHallinEdgwareRoad.Nobodyhadseenthetwomenleave,butthetimeofthemurderwasfixed

clearlyenoughat8:47.Asmallclockonthewriting-tablehadbeensweptoffbyFoscatini’sarm,andhad stoppedat thathour,whichagreedwithMissRider’stelephonesummons.

Thepolicesurgeonhadmadehisexaminationofthebody,anditwasnowlyingonthecouch.Isawthefaceforthefirsttime—theolivecomplexion,thelongnose,theluxuriantblackmoustache,andthefullredlipsdrawnbackfromthedazzlinglywhiteteeth.Notaltogetherapleasantface.

“Well,”saidtheinspector,refasteninghisnotebook.“Thecaseseemsclearenough.Theonlydifficultywillbe to layourhandson thisSignorAscanio. Isupposehisaddressisnotinthedeadman’spocketbookbyanychance?”

AsPoirothadsaid,thelateFoscatiniwasanorderlyman.Neatlywritteninsmall, precise handwriting was the inscription, “Signor Paolo Ascanio,GrosvenorHotel.”

The inspector busied himselfwith the telephone, then turned to uswith agrin.

“Just in time. Our fine gentleman was off to catch the boat train to theContinent.Well,gentlemen,that’saboutallwecandohere.It’sabadbusiness,but straightforward enough. One of these Italian vendetta things, as likely asnot.”

Thusairilydismissed,wefoundourwaydownstairs.Dr.Hawkerwasfullofexcitement.

“Likethebeginningofanovel,eh?Realexcitingstuff.Wouldn’tbelieveitifyoureadaboutit.”

Poirotdidnotspeak.Hewasverythoughtful.Alltheeveninghehadhardlyopenedhislips.

“What says themasterdetective,eh?”askedHawker,clappinghimon theback.“Nothingtoworkyourgreycellsoverthistime.”

“Youthinknot?”“Whatcouldtherebe?”“Well,forexample,thereisthewindow.”“Thewindow?But itwas fastened.Nobody could have got out or in that

way.Inoticeditspecially.”“Andwhywereyouabletonoticeit?”Thedoctorlookedpuzzled.Poirothastenedtoexplain.“ItistothecurtainsthatIrefer.Theywerenotdrawn.Alittleodd,that.And

thentherewasthecoffee.Itwasveryblackcoffee.”“Well,whatofit?”“Veryblack,”repeatedPoirot.“Inconjunctionwiththatletusrememberthat

verylittleofthericesouffléwaseaten,andweget—what?”“Moonshine,”laughedthedoctor.“You’repullingmyleg.”“NeverdoIpulltheleg.HastingshereknowsthatIamperfectlyserious.”“Idon’tknowwhatyouaregettingat,allthesame,”Iconfessed.“Youdon’t

suspectthemanservant,doyou?Hemighthavebeeninwiththegang,andputsomedopeinthecoffee.Isupposethey’lltesthisalibi?”

“Withoutdoubt,myfriend;butitisthealibiofSignorAscaniothatinterestsme.”

“Youthinkhehasanalibi?”“That is just what worries me. I have no doubt that we shall soon be

enlightenedonthatpoint.”TheDailyNewsmonger enabledus tobecomeconversantwith succeeding

events.Signor Ascanio was arrested and charged with the murder of Count

Foscatini.When arrested, he denied knowing the Count, and declared he hadnever been near Regent’s Court either on the evening of the crime or on thepreviousmorning.The youngerman had disappeared entirely. SignorAscaniohadarrivedaloneattheGrosvenorHotelfromtheContinenttwodaysbeforethemurder.Alleffortstotracethesecondmanfailed.

Ascanio,however,wasnotsentfortrial.NolessapersonagethantheItalianAmbassadorhimselfcameforwardandtestifiedatthepolicecourtproceedingsthatAscaniohadbeenwithhimattheEmbassyfromeighttillninethatevening.Theprisonerwasdischarged.Naturally, a lot of people thought that the crimewasapoliticalone,andwasbeingdeliberatelyhushedup.

Poirot had taken a keen interest in all these points. Nevertheless, I wassomewhat surprisedwhen he suddenly informedme onemorning that hewasexpecting a visitor at eleven o’clock, and that the visitorwas none other thanAscaniohimself.

“Hewishestoconsultyou?”“Dutout,Hastings,Iwishtoconsulthim.”“Whatabout?”“TheRegent’sCourtmurder.”“Youaregoingtoprovethathedidit?”“Amancannotbetriedtwiceformurder,Hastings.Endeavourtohavethe

commonsense.Ah,thatisourfriend’sring.”AfewminuteslaterSignorAscaniowasusheredin—asmall,thinmanwith

a secretive and furtive glance in his eyes. He remained standing, dartingsuspiciousglancesfromonetotheotherofus.

“MonsieurPoirot?”Mylittlefriendtappedhimselfgentlyonthechest.“Be seated, signor. You receivedmy note. I am determined to get to the

bottom of this mystery. In some small measure you can aid me. Let uscommence.You—incompanywithafriend—visitedthelateCountFoscatinionthemorningofTuesdaythe9th—”

TheItalianmadeanangrygesture.“Ididnothingofthesort.Ihaveswornincourt—”“Précisément—andIhavealittleideathatyouhaveswornfalsely.”“You threaten me? Bah! I have nothing to fear from you. I have been

acquitted.”

“Exactly;andasIamnotanimbecile, it isnotwiththegallowsI threatenyou—butwithpublicity.Publicity!Iseethatyoudonotliketheword.Ihadanideathatyouwouldnot.Mylittleideas,youknow,theyareveryvaluabletome.Come, signor, your only chance is to be frankwithme. I do not ask to knowwhoseindiscretionsbroughtyoutoEngland.Iknowthismuch,youcameforthespecialpurposeofseeingCountFoscatini.”

“Hewasnotacount,”growledtheItalian.“IhavealreadynotedthefactthathisnamedoesnotappearintheAlmanach

deGotha. Never mind, the title of count is often useful in the profession ofblackmailing.”

“IsupposeImightaswellbefrank.Youseemtoknowagooddeal.”“Ihaveemployedmygreycellstosomeadvantage.Come,SignorAscanio,

youvisitedthedeadmanontheTuesdaymorning—thatisso,isitnot?”“Yes;butIneverwentthereonthefollowingevening.Therewasnoneed.I

willtellyouall.CertaininformationconcerningamanofgreatpositioninItalyhadcomeintothisscoundrel’spossession.Hedemandedabigsumofmoneyinreturnforthepapers.IcameovertoEnglandtoarrangethematter.Icalleduponhimbyappointmentthatmorning.OneoftheyoungsecretariesoftheEmbassywaswithme.TheCountwasmorereasonablethanIhadhoped,althougheventhenthesumofmoneyIpaidhimwasahugeone.”

“Pardon,howwasitpaid?”“In Italian notes of comparatively small denomination. I paid over the

moneythenandthere.Hehandedmetheincriminatingpapers.Ineversawhimagain.”

“Whydidyounotsayallthiswhenyouwerearrested?”“InmydelicatepositionIwasforcedtodenyanyassociationwiththeman.”“Andhowdoyouaccountfortheeventsoftheeveningthen?”“Icanonly think that someonemusthavedeliberately impersonatedme. I

understandthatnomoneywasfoundintheflat.”Poirotlookedathimandshookhishead.

“Strange,”hemurmured.“Weallhavethelittlegreycells.Andsofewofusknowhowtousethem.Goodmorning,SignorAscanio.Ibelieveyourstory.ItisverymuchasIhadimagined.ButIhadtomakesure.”

Afterbowinghisguestout,Poirotreturnedtohisarmchairandsmiledatme.“LetushearM.leCapitaineHastingsonthecase.”“Well,IsupposeAscanioisright—somebodyimpersonatedhim.”“Never,neverwillyouusethebrainsthegoodGodhasgivenyou.Recallto

yourselfsomewordsIutteredafter leaving theflat thatnight. I referred to thewindowcurtainsnotbeingdrawn.WeareinthemonthofJune.Itisstilllightateight o’clock. The light is failing by half past.Ça vous dit quelque chose? Iperceive a struggling impression that you will arrive some day. Now let uscontinue. The coffee was, as I said, very black. Count Foscatini’s teeth weremagnificently white. Coffee stains the teeth.We reason from that that CountFoscatinididnotdrinkanycoffee.Yet therewascoffee inall threecups.WhyshouldanyonepretendCountFoscatinihaddrunkcoffeewhenhehadnotdoneso?”

Ishookmyhead,utterlybewildered.“Come,Iwillhelpyou.WhatevidencehavewethatAscanioandhisfriend,

ortwomenposingasthem,evercametotheflatthatnight?Nobodysawthemgoin;nobodysawthemgoout.Wehavetheevidenceofonemanandofahostofinanimateobjects.”

“Youmean?”“I mean knives and forks and plates and empty dishes. Ah, but it was a

clever idea!Graves is a thief anda scoundrel, butwhat amanofmethod!Heoverhears a portion of the conversation in themorning, enough to realize thatAscanio will be in an awkward position to defend himself. The followingevening,abouteighto’clock,he tellshismasterhe iswantedat the telephone.Foscatini sits down, stretches out his hand to the telephone, and from behindGraves strikes him downwith themarble figure. Then quickly to the servicetelephone—dinnerforthree!Itcomes,helaysthetable,dirtiestheplates,knives,

and forks, etc.But he has to get rid of the food too.Not only is he amanofbrain;hehasaresoluteandcapaciousstomach!Butaftereatingthreetournedos,thericesouffléistoomuchforhim!Heevensmokesacigarandtwocigarettesto carryout the illusion.Ah, but itwasmagnificently thorough!Then, havingmovedon the hands of the clock to 8:47, he smashes it and stops it.The onethinghedoesnotdoistodrawthecurtains.Butiftherehadbeenarealdinnerpartythecurtainswouldhavebeendrawnassoonasthelightbegantofail.Thenhehurriesout,mentioningthegueststotheliftmaninpassing.Hehurriestoatelephone box, and as near as possible to 8:47 rings up the doctor with hismaster’sdyingcry.Sosuccessful ishis idea thatnooneever inquires ifacallwasputthroughfromFlat11atthattime.”

“ExceptHerculePoirot,Isuppose?”Isaidsarcastically.“Not even Hercule Poirot,” said my friend, with a smile. “I am about to

inquirenow. Ihad toprovemypoint toyou first.Butyouwill see, I shall beright;andthenJapp,towhomIhavealreadygivenahint,willbeabletoarresttherespectableGraves.Iwonderhowmuchofthemoneyhehasspent.”

Poirotwasright.Healwaysis,confoundhim!

Eleven

THE C ASE OF THEM ISS ING W ILL

The problem presented to us by Miss Violet Marsh made rather a pleasant

changefromourusualroutinework.Poirothadreceivedabriskandbusinesslikenotefromtheladyaskingforanappointment,andhadrepliedaskinghertocalluponhimateleveno’clockthefollowingday.

Shearrivedpunctually—atall,handsomeyoungwoman,plainlybutneatlydressed,withanassuredandbusinesslikemanner.Clearlyayoungwomanwhomeant to get on in theworld. I am not a great admirer of the so-calledNewWoman myself, and, in spite of her good looks, I was not particularlyprepossessedinherfavour.

“My business is of a somewhat unusual nature, Monsieur Poirot,” shebegan,after shehadacceptedachair.“Ihadbetterbeginat thebeginningandtellyouthewholestory.”

“Ifyouplease,mademoiselle.”“Iamanorphan.Myfatherwasoneoftwobrothers,sonsofasmallyeoman

farmerinDevonshire.Thefarmwasapoorone,andtheelderbrother,Andrew,emigrated to Australia, where he did very well indeed, and by means ofsuccessful speculation in land became a very rich man. The younger brother,Roger(myfather),hadnoleaningstowardstheagriculturallife.Hemanagedtoeducate himself a little, and obtained a post as clerk with a small firm. Hemarried slightly above him;mymotherwas the daughter of a poor artist.MyfatherdiedwhenIwassixyearsold.WhenIwasfourteen,mymotherfollowedhimtothegrave.MyonlylivingrelationthenwasmyuncleAndrew,whohadrecently returned fromAustralia andbought a smallplace,CrabtreeManor, in

hisnativecounty.Hewasexceedinglykind tohisbrother’sorphanchild, tookme to live with him, and treated me in every way as though I was his owndaughter.

“Crabtree Manor, in spite of its name, is really only an old farmhouse.Farmingwas inmy uncle’s blood, and he was intensely interested in variousmodern farming experiments. Although kindness itself to me, he had certainpeculiaranddeeply-rootedideasastotheupbringingofwomen.Himselfamanof little or no education, though possessing remarkable shrewdness, he placedlittlevalueonwhathecalled‘bookknowledge.’Hewasespeciallyopposed totheeducationofwomen.Inhisopinion,girlsshouldlearnpracticalhouseworkand dairywork, be useful about the home, and have as little to dowith booklearning as possible.He proposed to bringme up on these lines, tomy bitterdisappointmentandannoyance.Irebelledfrankly.IknewthatIpossessedagoodbrain,andhadabsolutelynotalentfordomesticduties.MyuncleandIhadmanybitterargumentsonthesubject,for,thoughmuchattachedtoeachother,wewereboth self-willed. Iwas lucky enough towin a scholarship, andup to a certainpointwassuccessfulingettingmyownway.ThecrisisarosewhenIresolvedtogotoGirton.Ihadalittlemoneyofmyown,leftmebymymother,andIwasquitedeterminedtomakethebestuseofthegiftsGodhadgivenme.Ihadonelong,finalargumentwithmyuncle.Heputthefactsplainlybeforeme.Hehadnootherrelations,andhehadintendedmetobehissoleheiress.AsIhavetoldyou,hewasaveryrichman.IfIpersistedinthese‘newfanglednotions’ofmine,however,Ineedlookfornothingfromhim.Iremainedpolite,butfirm.Ishouldalwaysbedeeplyattachedtohim,I toldhim,butImustleadmyownlife.Wepartedonthatnote.‘Youfancyyourbrains,mygirl,’werehislastwords.‘I’venobooklearning,but,forallthat,I’llpitmineagainstyoursanyday.We’llseewhatweshallsee.’”

“That was nine years ago. I have stayed with him for a weekendoccasionally, and our relations were perfectly amicable, though his viewsremained unaltered. He never referred to my having matriculated, nor to my

BSc. For the last three years his health had been failing, and amonth ago hedied.

“I am now coming to the point of my visit. My uncle left a mostextraordinarywill.Byitsterms,CrabtreeManoranditscontentsaretobeatmydisposal for a year from his death—‘duringwhich timemy clever niecemayproveherwits,’theactualwordsrun.Attheendofthatperiod,‘mywitshavingbeenprovedbetterthanhers,’thehouseandallmyuncle’slargefortunepasstovariouscharitableinstitutions.”

“That is a little hard on you, mademoiselle, seeing that you wereMr.Marsh’sonlybloodrelation.”

“Idonotlookonitinthatway.UncleAndrewwarnedmefairly,andIchosemyownpath.SinceIwouldnotfallinwithhiswishes,hewasatperfectlibertytoleavehismoneytowhomhepleased.”

“Wasthewilldrawnupbyalawyer?”“No;itwaswrittenonaprintedwill-formandwitnessedbythemanandhis

wifewholiveatthehouseanddoformyuncle.”“Theremightbeapossibilityofupsettingsuchawill?”“Iwouldnotevenattempttodosuchathing.”“Youregarditthenasasportingchallengeonthepartofyouruncle?”“ThatisexactlyhowIlookuponit.”“It bears that interpretation, certainly,” said Poirot thoughtfully.

“Somewhereinthisramblingoldmanorhouseyourunclehasconcealedeitherasumofmoney innotesorpossiblya secondwill, andhasgivenyouayear inwhichtoexerciseyouringenuitytofindit.”

“Exactly, Monsieur Poirot; and I am paying you the compliment ofassumingthatyouringenuitywillbegreaterthanmine.”

“Eh,eh!butthatisverycharmingofyou.Mygreycellsareatyourdisposal.Youhavemadenosearchyourself?”

“Onlyacursoryone;butIhavetoomuchrespectformyuncle’sundoubtedabilitiestofancythatthetaskwillbeaneasyone.”

“Haveyouthewilloracopyofitwithyou?”Miss March handed a document across the table. Poirot ran through it,

noddingtohimself.“Madethreeyearsago.DatedMarch25;andthetimeisgivenalso—11A.M.

—thatisverysuggestive.Itnarrowsthefieldofsearch.Assuredlyitisanotherwillwehavetoseekfor.Awillmadeevenhalfanhourlaterwouldupsetthis.Ehbien,mademoiselle, it is a problem charming and ingenious that you havepresentedtomehere.Ishallhaveallthepleasureintheworldinsolvingitforyou.Granted that your unclewas aman of ability, his grey cells cannot havebeenofthequalityofHerculePoirot’s!”

(Really,Poirot’svanityisblatant!)“Fortunately,Ihavenothingofmomentonhandattheminute.Hastingsand

IwillgodowntoCrabtreeManor tonight.Themanandwifewhoattendedonyourunclearestillthere,Ipresume?”

“Yes,theirnameisBaker.”

IIThefollowingmorningsawusstartedonthehuntproper.Wehadarrivedlatethenightbefore.Mr.andMrs.Baker,havingreceivedatelegramfromMissMarsh,were expecting us. They were a pleasant couple, the man gnarled and pink-cheeked, likeashrivelledpippin,andhiswifeawomanofvastproportionandtrueDevonshirecalm.

Tiredwith our journey and the eight-mile drive from the station, we hadretiredatoncetobedafterasupperofroastchicken,applepie,andDevonshirecream.We had now disposed of an excellent breakfast, and were sitting in asmallpanelledroomwhichhadbeenthelateMr.Marsh’sstudyandlivingroom.A rolltopdesk stuffedwithpapers, all neatlydocketed, stood against thewall,andabigleatherarmchairshowedplainlythatithadbeenitsowner’sconstantresting-place.Abig chintz-covered settee ran along the oppositewall, and the

deep low window seats were covered with the same faded chintz of an old-fashionedpattern.

“Ehbien,monami,”saidPoirot,lightingoneofhistinycigarettes,“wemustmapoutourplanofcampaign.AlreadyIhavemadearoughsurveyofthehouse,butIamoftheopinionthatanycluewillbefoundinthisroom.Weshallhavetogothroughthedocumentsinthedeskwithmeticulouscare.Naturally,Idonotexpect to find the will amongst them, but it is likely that some apparentlyinnocentpapermayconcealthecluetoitshidingplace.Butfirstwemusthavealittleinformation.Ringthebell,Iprayofyou.”

Ididso.Whilewewerewaitingforittobeanswered,Poirotwalkedupanddown,lookingabouthimapprovingly.

“Amanofmethod,thisMr.Marsh.Seehowneatlythepacketsofpapersaredocketed;thenthekeytoeachdrawerhasitsivorylabel—sohasthekeyofthechina cabinet on the wall; and see with what precision the china within isarranged.Itrejoicestheheart.Nothinghereoffendstheeye—”

Hecametoanabruptpause,ashiseyewascaughtbythekeyof thedeskitself,towhichadirtyenvelopewasaffixed.Poirotfrownedatitandwithdrewitfrom the lock.On itwere scrawled thewords: “Key ofRoll TopDesk,” in acrabbedhandwriting,quiteunliketheneatsuperscriptionsontheotherkeys.

“Analiennote,”saidPoirot,frowning.“IcouldswearthatherewehavenolongerthepersonalityofMr.Marsh.Butwhoelsehasbeeninthehouse?OnlyMissMarsh,andshe,ifImistakenot,isalsoayoungladyofmethodandorder.”

Bakercameinanswertothebell.“Willyoufetchmadameyourwife,andanswerafewquestions?”Bakerdeparted,andinafewmomentsreturnedwithMrs.Baker,wipingher

handsonherapronandbeamingalloverherface.InafewclearwordsPoirotsetforththeobjectofhismission.TheBakers

wereimmediatelysympathetic.“Us don’twant to seeMissViolet done out ofwhat’s hers,” declared the

woman.“Cruelhard’twouldbeforhospitalstogetitall.”

Poirotproceededwithhisquestions.Yes,Mr.andMrs.Bakerrememberedperfectly witnessing the will. Baker had previously been sent into theneighbouringtowntogettwoprintedwillforms.

“Two?”saidPoirotsharply.“Yes, sir, for safety like, I suppose, incaseheshouldspoilone—andsure

enough,sohediddo.Ushadsignedone—”“Whattimeofdaywasthat?”Bakerscratchedhishead,buthiswifewasquicker.“Why,tobesure,I’djustputthemilkonforthecocoaateleven.Don’tee

remember?Ithadallboiledoveronthestovewhenusgotbacktokitchen.”“Andafterwards?”“ ’Twould be about an hour later. Us had to go in again. ‘I’ve made a

mistake,’saidoldmaster,‘hadtotearthewholethingup.I’lltroubleyoutosignagain,’ andus did.And afterwardsmaster gaveus a tidy sumofmoney each.‘I’veleftyounothinginmywill,’sayshe,‘buteachyearIliveyou’llhavethistobeanesteggwhenI’mgone’:andsureenough,sohedid.”

Poirotreflected.“After you had signed the second time,what didMr.Marsh do?Do you

know?”“Wentouttothevillagetopaytradesmen’sbooks.”Thatdidnotseemverypromising.Poirottriedanothertack.Heheldoutthe

keyofthedesk.“Isthatyourmaster’swriting?”Imayhaveimaginedit,butIfanciedthatamomentortwoelapsedbefore

Bakerreplied:“Yes,sir,itis.”“He’slying,”Ithought.“Butwhy?”“Hasyourmasterletthehouse?—havetherebeenanystrangersinitduring

thelastthreeyears?”“No,sir.”“Novisitors?”

“OnlyMissViolet.”“Nostrangersofanykindbeeninsidethisroom?”“No,sir.”“Youforgettheworkmen,Jim,”hiswiferemindedhim.“Workmen?”Poirotwheeledroundonher.“Whatworkmen?”Thewoman explained that about two years and a half agoworkmen had

been in the house to do certain repairs. She was quite vague as to what therepairs were. Her view seemed to be that the whole thing was a fad of hermaster’s andquite unnecessary.Part of the time theworkmenhadbeen in thestudy;butwhattheyhaddonethereshecouldnotsay,ashermasterhadnotleteitherofthemintotheroomwhilsttheworkwasinprogress.Unfortunately,theycouldnotrememberthenameofthefirmemployed,beyondthefactthatitwasaPlymouthone.

“Weprogress,Hastings,” saidPoirot, rubbinghishands as theBakers lefttheroom.“ClearlyhemadeasecondwillandthenhadworkmenfromPlymouthin tomakeasuitablehidingplace. Insteadofwasting time takingup the floorandtappingthewalls,wewillgotoPlymouth.”

Withalittletrouble,wewereabletogettheinformationwewanted.AfteroneortwoessayswefoundthefirmemployedbyMr.Marsh.

Theiremployeeshadallbeenwiththemmanyyears,anditwaseasytofindthetwomenwhohadworkedunderMr.Marsh’sorders.Theyrememberedthejobperfectly.Amongstvariousotherminor jobs, theyhad takenuponeof thebricksoftheold-fashionedfireplace,madeacavitybeneath,andsocutthebrickthatitwasimpossibletoseethejoin.Bypressingonthesecondbrickfromtheend,thewholethingwasraised.Ithadbeenquiteacomplicatedpieceofwork,and theoldgentlemanhadbeenveryfussyabout it.Our informantwasamancalled Coghan, a big, gaunt man with a grizzled moustache. He seemed anintelligentfellow.

WereturnedtoCrabtreeManorinhighspirits,and,lockingthestudydoor,proceededtoputournewlyacquiredknowledgeintoeffect.Itwasimpossibleto

seeanysignonthebricks,butwhenwepressedinthemannerindicated,adeepcavitywasatoncedisclosed.

EagerlyPoirotplungedinhishand.Suddenlyhisfacefellfromcomplacentelation toconsternation.Allheheldwasacharredfragmentofstiffpaper.Butforit,thecavitywasempty.

“Sacre!”criedPoirotangrily.“Someonehasbeenbeforeus.”We examined the scrap of paper anxiously. Clearly it was a fragment of

whatwesought.AportionofBaker’ssignature remained,butno indicationofwhatthetermsofthewillhadbeen.

Poirotsatbackonhisheels.Hisexpressionwouldhavebeencomicalifwehadnotbeen soovercome.“Iunderstand itnot,”hegrowled. “Whodestroyedthis?Andwhatwastheirobject?”

“TheBakers?”Isuggested.“Pourquoi?Neitherwillmakesanyprovisionfor them,and theyaremore

likelytobekeptonwithMissMarshthaniftheplacebecamethepropertyofahospital. How could it be to anyone’s advantage to destroy the will? Thehospitalsbenefit—yes;butonecannotsuspectinstitutions.”

“Perhaps the old man changed his mind and destroyed it himself,” Isuggested.

Poirotrosetohisfeet,dustinghiskneeswithhisusualcare.“That may be,” he admitted, “one of your more sensible observations,

Hastings.Well,wecandonomorehere.Wehavedoneallthatmortalmancando.Wehavesuccessfullypittedourwitsagainst the lateAndrewMarsh’s;but,unfortunately,hisnieceisnotbetteroffforoursuccess.”

By driving to the station at once, we were just able to catch a train toLondon, thoughnot the principal express. Poirotwas sad anddissatisfied.Formypart,Iwastiredanddozedinacorner.Suddenly,aswewerejustmovingoutofTaunton,Poirotutteredapiercingsqueal.

“Vite,Hastings!Awakeandjump!ButjumpIsay!”BeforeIknewwhereIwaswewerestandingon theplatform,bareheaded

andminusourvalises,whilstthetraindisappearedintothenight.Iwasfurious.ButPoirotpaidnoattention.

“Imbecile that I have been!” he cried. “Triple imbecile! Not again will Ivauntmylittlegreycells!”

“That’sagoodjobatanyrate,”Isaidgrumpily.“Butwhatisthisallabout?”As usual, when following out his own ideas, Poirot paid absolutely no

attentiontome.“Thetradesmen’sbooks—Ihaveleftthementirelyoutofaccount?Yes,but

where?Where?Nevermind,Icannotbemistaken.Wemustreturnatonce.”Easiersaidthandone.WemanagedtogetaslowtraintoExeter,andthere

Poirothiredacar.WearrivedbackatCrabtreeManorinthesmallhoursofthemorning. I pass over the bewilderment of the Bakers when we had at lastarousedthem.Payingnoattentiontoanybody,Poirotstrodeatoncetothestudy.

“Ihavebeen,notatripleimbecile,butthirty-sixtimesone,myfriend,”hedeignedtoremark.“Now,behold!”

Goingstraight to thedeskhedrewout thekey,anddetachedtheenvelopefromit.Istaredathimstupidly.Howcouldhepossiblyhopetofindabigwillformin that tinyenvelope?Withgreatcarehecutopentheenvelope, layingitoutflat.Thenhelightedthefireandheldtheplaininsidesurfaceoftheenvelopetotheflame.Inafewminutesfaintcharactersbegantoappear.

“Look,monami!”criedPoirotintriumph.Ilooked.Therewerejustafewlinesoffaintwritingstatingbrieflythathe

lefteverythingtohisniece,VioletMarsh.ItwasdatedMarch2512:30p.m.,andwitnessedbyAlbertPike,confectioner,andJessiePike,marriedwoman.

“Butisitlegal?”Igasped.“As far as I know, there is no lawagainstwritingyourwill in a blendof

disappearingandsympatheticink.Theintentionofthetestatorisclear,andthebeneficiary is his only living relation. But the cleverness of him!He foresaweverystepthatasearcherwouldtake—thatI,miserableimbecile,took.Hegetstwo will forms, makes the servants sign twice, then sallies out with his will

writtenontheinsideofadirtyenvelopeandafountainpencontaininghislittleinkmixture.Onsomeexcusehegetstheconfectionerandhiswifetosigntheirnamesunderhisownsignature,thenhetiesittothekeyofhisdeskandchucklesto himself. If his niece sees through his little ruse, shewill have justified herchoiceoflifeandelaborateeducationandbethoroughlywelcometohismoney.”

“Shedidn’tsee throughit,didshe?”Isaidslowly.“Itseemsratherunfair.Theoldmanreallywon.”

“But no, Hastings. It is your wits that go astray.MissMarsh proved theastuteness of herwits and the value of the higher education forwomen by atonceputtingthematterinmyhands.Alwaysemploytheexpert.Shehasamplyprovedherrighttothemoney.”

I wonder—I very much wonder—what old Andrew Marsh would havethought!

Twelve

THE V EILED L ADY

I had noticed that for some time Poirot had been growing increasinglydissatisfied and restless. We had had no interesting cases of late, nothing onwhichmy little friend could exercise his keenwits and remarkable powers ofdeduction. This morning he flung down the newspaper with an impatient“Tchah! ”—a favourite exclamation of his which sounded exactly like a catsneezing.

“Theyfearme,Hastings;thecriminalsofyourEnglandtheyfearme!Whenthecatisthere,thelittlemice,theycomenomoretothecheese!”

“Idon’t suppose thegreaterpartof themevenknowofyourexistence,” Isaid,laughing.

Poirotlookedatmereproachfully.Healwaysimaginesthatthewholeworldis thinking and talking of Hercule Poirot. He had certainly made a name forhimselfinLondon,butIcouldhardlybelievethathisexistencestruckterrorintothecriminalworld.

“WhataboutthatdaylightrobberyofjewelsinBondStreettheotherday?”Iasked.

“A neat coup,” said Poirot approvingly, “though not in my line. Pas definesse, seulement de l’audace! Amanwith a loaded cane smashes the plate-glass window of a jeweller’s shop and grabs a number of precious stones.Worthycitizens immediately seizehim;apolicemanarrives.He iscaught red-handedwith the jewelsonhim.He ismarchedoff to thepolice,and then it isdiscoveredthatthestonesarepaste.Hehaspassedtherealonestoaconfederate—one of the aforementionedworthy citizens. Hewill go to prison—true; but

when he comes out, there will be a nice little fortune awaiting him. Yes, notbadly imagined.But I coulddobetter than that.Sometimes,Hastings, I regretthat I am of such a moral disposition. To work against the law, it would bepleasing,forachange.”

“Cheerup,Poirot;youknowyouareuniqueinyourownline.”“Butwhatisthereonhandinmyownline?”Ipickedupthepaper.“Here’sanEnglishmanmysteriouslydonetodeathinHolland,”Isaid.“Theyalways say that—and later they find thathe ate the tinned fish and

thathisdeathisperfectlynatural.”“Well,ifyou’redeterminedtogrouse!”“Tiens!”saidPoirot,whohadstrolledacross to thewindow.“Here in the

street iswhat theycall innovelsa ‘heavilyveiled lady.’Shemounts thesteps;sherings thebell—shecomes toconsultus.Here isapossibilityofsomethinginteresting.Whenoneisasyoungandprettyas thatone,onedoesnotveil thefaceexceptforabigaffair.”

Aminutelaterourvisitorwasusheredin.AsPoirothadsaid,shewasindeedheavilyveiled.ItwasimpossibletodistinguishherfeaturesuntilsheraisedherveilofblackSpanishlace.ThenIsawthatPoirot’sintuitionhadbeenright;thelady was extremely pretty, with fair hair and blue eyes. From the costlysimplicityofherattire,Ideducedatoncethatshebelongedtotheupperstrataofsociety.

“Monsieur Poirot,” said the lady in a soft, musical voice, “I am in greattrouble. I can hardly believe that you can help me, but I have heard suchwonderfulthingsofyouthatIcomeliterallyasthelasthopetobegyoutodotheimpossible.”

“Theimpossible,itpleasesmealways,”saidPoirot.“Continue,Ibegofyou,mademoiselle.”

Ourfairguesthesitated.“Butyoumustbefrank,”addedPoirot.“Youmustnotleavemeinthedark

onanypoint.”“Iwilltrustyou,”saidthegirlsuddenly.“YouhaveheardofLadyMillicent

CastleVaughan?”I looked up with keen interest. The announcement of Lady Millicent’s

engagement to the young Duke of Southshire had appeared a few dayspreviously.Shewas,Iknew,thefifthdaughterofanimpecuniousIrishpeer,andtheDukeofSouthshirewasoneofthebestmatchesinEngland.

“I am Lady Millicent,” continued the girl. “You may have read of myengagement.Ishouldbeoneofthehappiestgirlsalive;butoh,M.Poirot,Iaminterribletrouble!Thereisaman,ahorribleman—hisnameisLavington;andhe—I hardly know how to tell you. There was a letter I wrote—I was onlysixteenatthetime;andhe—he—”

“AletterthatyouwrotetothisMr.Lavington?”“Ohno—nottohim!Toayoungsoldier—Iwasveryfondofhim—hewas

killedinthewar.”Iunderstand,”saidPoirotkindly.“Itwas a foolish letter, an indiscreet letter, but indeed,M.Poirot, nothing

more. But there are phrases in it which—which might bear a differentinterpretation.”

“I see,” said Poirot. “And this letter has come into the possession ofMr.Lavington?”

“Yes,andhethreatens,unlessIpayhimanenormoussumofmoney,asumthatisquiteimpossibleformetoraise,tosendittotheDuke.”

“Thedirtyswine!”Iejaculated.“Ibegyourpardon,LadyMillicent.”“Woulditnotbewisertoconfessalltoyourfuturehusband?”“Idarenot,M.Poirot.TheDukeisaratherpeculiarcharacter, jealousand

suspicious and prone to believe the worst. I might as well break off myengagementatonce.”

“Dear, dear,” said Poirot with an expressive grimace. “And what do youwantmetodo,milady?”

“IthoughtperhapsthatImightaskMr.Lavingtontocalluponyou.Iwouldtell him that you were empowered by me to discuss the matter. Perhaps youcouldreducehisdemands.”

“Whatsumdoeshemention?”“Twenty thousand pounds—an impossibility. I doubt if I could raise a

thousand,even.”“Youmightperhapsborrowthemoneyontheprospectofyourapproaching

marriage—butIdoubtifyoucouldgetholdofhalfthatsum.Besides—ehbien,itisrepungnanttomethatyoushouldpay!No,theingenuityofHerculePoirotshalldefeatyourenemies!SendmethisMr.Lavington.Ishelikelytobringtheletterwithhim?”

Thegirlshookherhead.“Idonotthinkso.Heisverycautious.”“Isupposethereisnodoubtthathereallyhasit?”“HeshowedittomewhenIwenttohishouse.”“Youwenttohishouse?Thatwasveryimprudent,milady.”“Wasit?Iwassodesperate.Ihopedmyentreatiesmightmovehim.”“Oh, là là!TheLavingtonsof thisworldarenotmovedbyentreaties!He

would welcome them as showing how much importance you attached to thedocument.Wheredoeshelive,thisfinegentleman?”

“AtBuonaVista,Wimbledon.Iwentthereafterdark—”Poirotgroaned.“Ideclared that I would inform the police in the end, but he only laughed in ahorrid, sneeringmanner. ‘By allmeans,mydearLadyMillicent, do so if youwish,’hesaid.”

“Yes,itishardlyanaffairforthepolice,”murmuredPoirot.“‘ButIthinkyouwillbewiserthanthat,’hecontinued.‘See,hereisyour

letter—inthislittleChinesepuzzlebox!’HehelditsothatIcouldsee.Itriedtosnatchatit,buthewastooquickforme.Withahorridsmilehefoldeditupandreplaceditinthelittlewoodenbox.‘Itwillbequitesafehere,Iassureyou,’hesaid,‘andtheboxitselflivesinsuchacleverplacethatyouwouldneverfindit.’

Myeyes turned to the smallwall safe, andhe shookhis head and laughed. ‘Ihaveabettersafethanthat,’hesaid.Oh,hewasodious!M.Poirot,doyouthinkthatyoucanhelpme?”

“HavefaithinPapaPoirot.Iwillfindaway.”Thesereassuranceswereallverywell,Ithought,asPoirotgallantlyushered

his fair clientdown the stairs,but it seemed tome thatwehada toughnut tocrack.IsaidasmuchtoPoirotwhenhereturned.Henoddedruefully.

“Yes—the solution does not leap to the eye. He has the whip hand, thisM.Lavington.ForthemomentIdonotseehowwearetocircumventhim.”

IIMr. Lavington duly called upon us that afternoon. LadyMillicent had spokentrulywhenshedescribedhimasanodiousman.Ifeltapositivetinglingintheendofmyboot, sokeenwas I tokickhimdown thestairs.Hewasblusteringand overbearing in manner, laughed Poirot’s gentle suggestions to scorn, andgenerallyshowedhimselfasmasterofthesituation.IcouldnothelpfeelingthatPoirotwashardlyappearingathisbest.Helookeddiscouragedandcrestfallen.

“Well,gentlemen,”saidLavington,ashetookuphishat,“wedon’tseemtobegettingmuchfurther.Thecasestandslikethis:I’lllettheLadyMillicentoffcheap, as she is such a charming young lady.”He leered odiously. “We’ll sayeighteenthousand.I’mofftoParistoday—alittlepieceofbusinesstoattendtoover there. I shall be back onTuesday.Unless themoney is paid byTuesdayevening,thelettergoestotheDuke.Don’ttellmeLadyMillicentcan’traisethemoney.Someofhergentlemenfriendswouldbeonlytoowillingtoobligesuchaprettywomanwithaloan—ifshegoestherightwayaboutit.”

Myfaceflushed,andItookastepforward,butLavingtonhadwheeledoutoftheroomashefinishedhissentence.

“MyGod!”Icried.“Somethinghasgottobedone.Youseemtobetakingthislyingdown,Poirot.”

“You have an excellent heart, my friend—but your grey cells are in adeplorable condition. I have no wish to impress Mr. Lavington with mycapabilities.Themorepusillanimoushethinksme,thebetter.”

“Why?”“Itiscurious,”murmuredPoirotreminiscently,“thatIshouldhaveuttereda

wishtoworkagainstthelawjustbeforeLadyMillicentarrived!”“Youaregoingtoburglehishousewhileheisaway?”Igasped.“Sometimes,Hastings,yourmentalprocessesareamazinglyquick.”“Supposehetakestheletterwithhim?”Poirotshookhishead.“Thatisveryunlikely.Hehasevidentlyahidingplaceinhishousethathe

fanciestobeprettyimpregnable.”“Whendowe—er—dothedeed?”“Tomorrownight.Wewillstartfromhereabouteleveno’clock.”

IIIAtthetimeappointedIwasreadytosetoff.Ihaddonnedadarksuit,andasoftdarkhat.Poirotbeamedkindlyonme.

“You have dressed the part, I see,” he observed. “Come let us take theundergroundtoWimbledon.”

“Aren’twegoingtotakeanythingwithus?Toolstobreakinwith?”“MydearHastings,HerculePoirotdoesnotadoptsuchcrudemethods.”Iretired,snubbed,butmycuriositywasalert.ItwasjustonmidnightthatweenteredthesmallsuburbangardenofBuona

Vista.The housewas dark and silent. Poirotwent straight to awindow at thebackofthehouse,raisedthesashnoiselesslyandbademeenter.

“Howdidyouknowthiswindowwouldbeopen?”Iwhispered,forreallyitseemeduncanny.

“BecauseIsawedthroughthecatchthismorning.”

“What?”“Butyes,itwasmostsimple.Icalled,presentedafictitiouscardandoneof

InspectorJapp’sofficialones.IsaidIhadbeensent,recommendedbyScotlandYard,toattendtosomeburglar-prooffasteningsthatMr.Lavingtonwantedfixedwhilehewasaway.Thehousekeeperwelcomedmewithenthusiasm. It seemstheyhavehadtwoattemptedburglariesherelately—evidentlyourlittleideahasoccurred to other clients of Mr. Lavington’s—with nothing of value taken. Iexaminedallthewindows,mademylittlearrangement,forbadetheservantstotouchthewindowsuntil tomorrow,as theywereelectricallyconnectedup,andwithdrewgracefully.”

“Really,Poirot,youarewonderful.”“Monami, itwasof thesimplest.Now, towork!Theservantssleepat the

topofthehouse,sowewillrunlittleriskofdisturbingthem.”“Ipresumethesafeisbuiltintothewallsomewhere?”“Safe?Fiddlesticks!There isnosafe.Mr.Lavington isan intelligentman.

Youwillsee,hewillhavedevisedahidingplacemuchmoreintelligent thanasafe.Asafeisthefirstthingeveryonelooksfor.”

Whereupon we began a systematic search of the entire place. But afterseveral hours” ransackingof thehouse, our searchhadbeenunavailing. I sawsymptomsofangergatheringonPoirot’sface.

“Ah,sapristi,isHerculePoirottobebeaten?Never!Letusbecalm.Letusreflect.Letusreason.Letus—enfin!—employourlittlegreycells!”

Hepausedforsomemoments,bendinghisbrowsinconcentration;thenthegreenlightIknewsowellstoleintohiseyes.

“Ihavebeenanimbecile!Thekitchen!”“Thekitchen,”Icried.“Butthat’simpossible.Theservants!”“Exactly.Justwhatninety-ninepeopleoutofahundredwouldsay!Andfor

that very reason the kitchen is the ideal place to choose. It is full of varioushomelyobjects.Enavant,tothekitchen!”

I followed him, completely sceptical, and watched whilst he dived intobread bins, tapped saucepans, and put his head into the gas-oven. In the end,tiredofwatchinghim, I strolledback to the study. Iwasconvinced that there,andthereonly,wouldwefindthecache.Imadeafurtherminutesearch,notedthatitwasnowaquarterpastfourandthatthereforeitwouldsoonbegrowinglight,andthenwentbacktothekitchenregions.

Tomyutteramazement,Poirotwasnowstandingrightinsidethecoalbin,totheutterruinofhisneatlightsuit.Hemadeagrimace.

“Butyes,myfriend,itisagainstallmyinstinctssotoruinmyappearance,butwhatwillyou?”

“ButLavingtoncan’thaveburieditunderthecoal?”“If youwould use your eyes, youwould see that it is not the coal that I

examine.”Ithensawonashelfbehindthecoalbunkersomelogsofwoodwerepiled.

Poirotwasdexterouslytakingthemdownonebyone.Suddenlyheutteredalowexclamation.

“Yourknife,Hastings!”Ihandedittohim.Heappearedtoinsetitinthewood,andsuddenlythelog

split in two. It had been neatly sawn in half and a cavity hollowed out in thecentre.FromthiscavityPoirottookalittlewoodenboxofChinesemake.

“Welldone!”Icried,carriedoutofmyself.“Gently,Hastings!Donot raiseyourvoice toomuch.Come, letusbeoff,

beforethedaylightisuponus.”Slipping thebox intohis pocket, he leaped lightly out of the coal-bunker,

brushedhimselfdownaswell ashecould,and leaving thehouseby the samewayaswehadcome,wewalkedrapidlyinthedirectionofLondon.

“But what an extraordinary place!” I expostulated. “Anyone might haveusedthelog.”

“InJuly,Hastings?Anditwasat thebottomofthepile—averyingenioushidingplace.Ah,hereisataxi!Nowforhome,awash,andarefreshingsleep.”

IVAfter the excitement of the night, I slept late.When I finally strolled into oursittingroomjustbeforeoneo’clock,IwassurprisedtoseePoirot,leaningbackin an armchair, theChineseboxopenbesidehim, calmly reading the letterhehadtakenfromit.

Hesmiledatmeaffectionately,andtappedthesheetheheld.“Shewas right, theLadyMillicent; neverwould theDukehavepardoned

this letter! It contains some of themost extravagant terms of affection I haveevercomeacross.”

“Really,Poirot,” I said, rather disgustedly, “I don’t thinkyou shouldhavereadtheletter.“That’sthesortofthingthatisn’tdone.”

“ItisdonebyHerculePoirot,”repliedmyfriendimperturbably.“And another thing,” I said. “I don’t think using Japp’s official card

yesterdaywasquiteplayingthegame.”“ButIwasnotplayingagame,Hastings.Iwasconductingacase.”Ishruggedmyshoulders.Onecan’targuewithapointofview.“Asteponthestairs,”saidPoirot.“ThatwillbeLadyMillicent.”Our fair client came in with an anxious expression on her face which

changedtooneofdelightonseeingtheletterandboxwhichPoirotheldup.“Oh,M.Poirot.Howwonderfulofyou!Howdidyoudoit?”“By rather reprehensible methods, milady. But Mr. Lavington will not

prosecute.Thisisyourletter,isitnot?”Sheglancedthroughit.“Yes.Oh,howcanIeverthankyou!Youareawonderful,wonderfulman.

Wherewasithidden?”Poirottoldher.“Howverycleverofyou!”Shetookupthesmallboxfromthetable.“Ishall

keepthisasasouvenir.”

“I had hoped, milady, that you would permit me to keep it—also as asouvenir.”

“Ihope tosendyouabettersouvenir than that—onmyweddingday.Youshallnotfindmeungrateful,M.Poirot.”

“Thepleasureofdoingyouaservicewillbemoretomethanacheque—soyoupermitthatIretainthebox.”

“Ohno,M.Poirot,Isimplymusthavethat,”shecriedlaughingly.Shestretchedoutherhand,butPoirotwasbeforeher.Hishandclosedover

it.“Ithinknot.”Hisvoicehadchanged.“Whatdoyoumean?”Hervoiceseemedtohavegrownsharper.“Atany rate,permitme to abstract its further contents.Youobserved that

theoriginalcavityhasbeenreducedbyhalf.Inthetophalf, thecompromisingletter;inthebottom—”

Hemadeanimblegesture, thenheldouthishand.On thepalmwerefourlargeglitteringstones,andtwobigmilkywhitepearls.

“ThejewelsstoleninBondStreettheotherday,Iratherfancy,”murmuredPoirot.“Jappwilltellus.”

Tomyutteramazement,JapphimselfsteppedoutfromPoirot’sbedroom.“Anoldfriendofyours,Ibelieve,”saidPoirotpolitelytoLadyMillicent.“Nabbed, by the Lord!” said Lady Millicent, with a complete change of

manner. “You nippy old devil!” She looked at Poirotwith almost affectionateawe.

“Well,Gertie,mydear,”saidJapp,“thegame’supthistime,Ifancy.Fancyseeing you again so soon!We’ve got your pal, too, the gentlemanwho calledhere the other day calling himself Lavington. As for Lavington himself, aliasCroker,aliasReed,IwonderwhichofthegangitwaswhostuckaknifeintohimtheotherdayinHolland?Thoughthe’dgotthegoodswithhim,didn’tyou?Andhehadn’t.Hedouble-crossedyouproperly—hid’eminhisownhouse.Youhadtwo fellows looking for them, and then you tackledM. Poirot here, and by a

pieceofamazingluckhefoundthem.”“Youdoliketalking,don’tyou?”saidthelateLadyMillicent.“Easythere,

now.I’llgoquietly.Youcan’tsaythatI’mnottheperfectlady.Ta-ta,all!”“Theshoeswerewrong,”saidPoirotdreamily,whileIwasstilltoostupefied

tospeak.“IhavemademylittleobservationsofyourEnglishnation,andalady,abornlady,isalwaysparticularabouthershoes.Shemayhaveshabbyclothes,butshewillbewellshod.Now,thisLadyMillicenthadsmart,expensiveclothes,andcheapshoes.ItwasnotlikelythateitheryouorIshouldhaveseentherealLadyMillicent; she has beenvery little inLondon, and this girl had a certainsuperficialresemblancewhichwouldpasswellenough.AsIsay,theshoesfirstawakened my suspicions, and then her story—and her veil—were a littlemelodramatic,eh?TheChineseboxwithaboguscompromisingletterinthetopmust have been known to all the gang, but the log of wood was the lateMr. Lavington’s idea. Eh, par example, Hastings, I hope you will not againwoundmy feelings as you did yesterday by saying that I am unknown to thecriminalclasses.Mafoi,theyevenemploymewhentheythemselvesfail!”

Thirteen

THE L OST M INE

Ilaiddownmybankbookwithasigh.“It isacurious thing,”Iobserved,“butmyoverdraftneverseemstogrow

anyless.”“Anditperturbsyounot?Me,ifIhadanoverdraft,nevershouldIclosemy

eyesallnight,”declaredPoirot.“Youdealincomfortablebalances,Isuppose!”Iretorted.“Fourhundredandforty-fourpounds,fourandfourpence,”saidPoirotwith

somecomplacency.“Aneatfigure,isitnot?”“It must be tact on the part of your bank manager. He is evidently

acquaintedwithyourpassionforsymmetricaldetails.Whataboutinvesting,say,three hundred of it in the Porcupine oil fields? Their prospectus, which isadvertised in the papers today, says that they will pay one hundred per centdividendsnextyear.”

“Notforme,”saidPoirot,shakinghishead.“Ilikenotthesensational.Forme thesafe, theprudent investment—lesrentes, theconsols, the—howdoyoucallit?—theconversion.”

“Haveyounevermadeaspeculativeinvestment?”“No,monami,”repliedPoirotseverely.“Ihavenot.AndtheonlysharesI

ownwhichhavenotwhatyoucallthegildededgearefourteenthousandsharesintheBurmaMinesLtd.”

Poirotpausedwithanairofwaitingtobeencouragedtogoon.“Yes?”Iprompted.“AndforthemIpaidnocash—no,theyweretherewardoftheexerciseof

mylittlegreycells.Youwouldliketohearthestory?Yes?”“OfcourseIwould.”“TheseminesaresituatedintheinteriorofBurmaabouttwohundredmiles

inland from Rangoon. They were discovered by the Chinese in the fifteenthcentury and worked down to the time of the Mohammedan Rebellion, beingfinally abandoned in the year 1868.TheChinese extracted the rich lead-silverore from the upper part of the ore body, smelting it for the silver alone, andleaving large quantities of rich lead-bearing slag. This, of course, was soondiscoveredwhenprospectingworkwascarriedout inBurma,butowingto thefactthattheoldworkingshadbecomefullofloosefillingandwater,allattemptsto find the source of the ore proved fruitless.Many parties were sent out bysyndicates,andtheydugoveralargearea,butthisrichprizestilleludedthem.ButarepresentativeofoneofthesyndicatesgotonthetrackofaChinesefamilywhoweresupposedtohavestillkeptarecordofthesituationofthemine.ThepresentheadofthefamilywasoneWuLing.”

“Whatafascinatingpageofcommercialromance!”Iexclaimed.“Isitnot?Ah,monami,onecanhaveromancewithoutgolden-hairedgirls

of matchless beauty—no, I am wrong; it is auburn hair that so excites youalways.Youremember—”

“Goonwiththestory,”Isaidhastily.“Ehbien,my friend, thisWuLingwas approached.Hewas an estimable

merchant,muchrespectedin theprovincewherehelived.Headmittedatoncethat he owned the documents in question, and was perfectly prepared tonegotiate for this sale, but he objected to dealing with anyone other thanprincipals.Finally itwasarranged thatheshould journey toEnglandandmeetthedirectorsofanimportantcompany.

“WuLingmadethejourneytoEnglandintheSSAssunta,andtheAssuntadocked at Southampton on a cold, foggy morning in November. One of thedirectors,Mr.Pearson,wentdowntoSouthamptontomeettheboat,butowingto thefog, the traindownwasverymuchdelayed,andby the timehearrived,

Wu Ling had disembarked and left by special train for London.Mr. Pearsonreturned to town somewhat annoyed, as he had no idea where the Chinamanproposed to stay. Later in the day, however, the offices of the companywererunguponthetelephone.WuLingwasstayingattheRussellSquareHotel.Hewas feeling somewhat unwell after the voyage, but declared himself perfectlyabletoattendtheboardmeetingonthefollowingday.

“The meeting of the board took place at eleven o’clock.When half pastelevencame,andWuLinghadnotputinanappearance,thesecretaryranguptheRussellHotel.Inanswertohisinquiries,hewastoldthattheChinamanhadgoneoutwithafriendabouthalfpastten.Itseemedclearthathehadstartedoutwiththeintentionofcomingtothemeeting,butthemorningworeaway,andhedid not appear. It was, of course, possible that he had lost his way, beingunacquaintedwithLondon,butatalatehourthatnighthehadnotreturnedtothehotel. Thoroughly alarmed now,Mr. Pearson put matters in the hands of thepolice.On the following day, therewas still no trace of themissingman, buttowards evening of the day after that again, a bodywas found in theThameswhichprovedtobethatoftheill-fatedChinaman.Neitheronthebody,norintheluggageatthehotel,wasthereanytraceofthepapersrelatingtothemine.

“Atthisjuncture,monami,Iwasbroughtintotheaffair.Mr.Pearsoncalleduponme.WhileprofoundlyshockedbythedeathofWuLing,hischiefanxietywas to recover the papers which were the object of the Chinaman’s visit toEngland.Themainanxietyofthepolice,ofcourse,wouldbetotrackdownthemurderer—therecoveryofthepaperswouldbeasecondaryconsideration.Whathewantedmetodowastocooperatewiththepolicewhileactingintheinterestsofthecompany.

“Iconsentedreadilyenough.Itwasclearthatthereweretwofieldsofsearchopentome.Ontheonehand,ImightlookamongtheemployeesofthecompanywhoknewoftheChinaman’scoming;ontheother,amongthepassengersontheboatwhomighthavebeenacquaintedwithhismission.Istartedwiththesecond,asbeinganarrowerfieldofsearch.InthisIcoincidedwithInspectorMiller,who

was in charge of the case—a man altogether different from our friend Japp,conceited, ill-mannered and quite insufferable. Together we interviewed theofficersoftheship.Theyhadlittletotellus.WuLinghadkeptmuchtohimselfonthevoyage.Hehadbeenintimatewithbuttwooftheotherpassengers—onea broken-down European named Dyer who appeared to bear a somewhatunsavouryreputation,theotherayoungbankclerknamedCharlesLester,whowasreturningfromHongKong.Wewere luckyenough toobtainsnapshotsofboththesemen.Atthemomentthereseemedlittledoubtthatifeitherofthetwowasimplicated,Dyerwastheman.HewasknowntobemixedupwithagangofChinesecrooks,andwasaltogetheramostlikelysuspect.

“Ournextstepwastovisit theRussellSquareHotel.ShownasnapshotofWuLing, they recognizedhimatonce.We then showed them the snapshotofDyer,buttoourdisappointment,thehallporterdeclaredpositivelythatthatwasnot the man who had come to the hotel on the fatal morning. Almost as anafterthought,IproducedthephotographofLester,andtomysurprisethemanatoncerecognizedit.

“‘Yes,sir,’heasserted,‘that’s thegentlemanwhocameinathalfpast tenandaskedforMr.WuLing,andafterwardswentoutwithhim.’

“Theaffairwasprogressing.Ournextmovewas to interviewMr.CharlesLester. He met us with the utmost frankness, was desolated to hear of theChinaman’suntimelydeath, andputhimself at ourdisposal in everyway.Hisstorywas as follows:By arrangementwithWuLing, he called for him at thehotelatten-thirty.WuLing,however,didnotappear.Instead,hisservantcame,explained thathismasterhadhad togoout, andoffered toconduct theyoungman towherehismasternowwas.Suspectingnothing,Lester agreed, and theChinaman procured a taxi. They drove for some time in the direction of thedocks. Suddenly becoming mistrustful, Lester stopped the taxi and got out,disregardingtheservant’sprotests.That,heassuredus,wasallheknew.

“Apparently satisfied, we thanked him and took our leave. His storywassoonprovedtobeasomewhatinaccurateone.Tobeginwith,WuLinghadhad

noservantwithhim,eitherontheboatoratthehotel.Inthesecondplace,thetaxidriverwhohaddriventhetwomenonthatmorningcameforward.FarfromLester’shavingleftthetaxienroute,heandtheChinesegentlemanhaddriventoa certain unsavoury dwelling place in Limehouse, right in the heart ofChinatown.Theplaceinquestionwasmoreorlesswellknownasanopium-denofthelowestdescription.Thetwogentlemenhadgonein—aboutanhourlatertheEnglishgentleman,whomheidentifiedfromthephotograph,cameoutalone.Helookedverypaleandill,anddirectedthetaximantotakehimtothenearestundergroundstation.

“InquiriesweremadeaboutCharlesLester’sstanding,anditwasfoundthat,thoughbearinganexcellentcharacter,hewasheavily indebt,andhadasecretpassion for gambling. Dyer, of course, was not lost sight of. It seemed justfaintlypossiblethathemighthaveimpersonatedtheotherman,butthatideawasproved utterly groundless. His alibi for thewhole of the day in questionwasabsolutely unimpeachable. Of course, the proprietor of the opium den deniedeverything with Oriental stolidity. He had never seen Charles Lester. No twogentlemen had been to the place that morning. In any case, the police werewrong:noopiumwaseversmokedthere.

“Hisdenials,howeverwellmeant,didlittletohelpCharlesLester.Hewasarrested for themurderofWuLing.A searchofhis effectswasmade,butnopapers relating to theminewere discovered. The proprietor of the opium denwasalsotakenintocustody,butacursoryraidofhispremisesyieldednothing.Notevenastickofopiumrewardedthezealofthepolice.

“InthemeantimemyfriendMr.Pearsonwasinagreatstateofagitation.Hestrodeupanddownmyroom,utteringgreatlamentations.

“ ‘Butyoumusthavesome ideas,M.Poirot!’hekepturging. ‘Surelyyoumusthavesomeideas!’

“‘CertainlyIhaveideas,’Irepliedcautiously.‘Thatisthetrouble—onehastoomany;thereforetheyallleadindifferentdirections.’

“‘Forinstance?’hesuggested.

“‘Forinstance—thetaxi-driver.Wehaveonlyhiswordforitthathedrovethetwomentothathouse.Thatisoneidea.Then—wasitreallythathousetheywentto?Supposingthattheyleftthetaxithere,passedthroughthehouseandoutbyanotherentranceandwentelsewhere?’

“Mr.Pearsonseemedstruckbythat.“‘Butyoudonothingbutsitandthink?Can’twedosomething?’“Hewasofanimpatienttemperament,youcomprehend.“‘Monsieur,’Isaidwithdignity,‘ItisnotforHerculePoirottorunupand

downtheevil-smellingstreetsofLimehouselikealittledogofnobreeding.Becalm.Myagentsareatwork.’

“OnthefollowingdayIhadnewsforhim.Thetwomenhadindeedpassedthroughthehouseinquestion,buttheirrealobjectivewasasmalleatinghouseclosetotheriver.Theywereseentopassinthere,andLestercameoutalone.

“And then, figure to yourself,Hastings, an idea of themost unreasonableseizedthisMr.Pearson!Nothingwouldsuithimbutthatweshouldgoourselvestothiseatinghouseandmakeinvestigations.Iarguedandprayed,buthewouldnotlisten.Hetalkedofdisguisinghimself—heevensuggestedthatI—I should—I hesitate to say it—should shave off my moustache! Yes, rien que ça! Ipointedouttohimthatthatwasanidearidiculousandabsurd.Onedestroysnota thing of beauty wantonly. Besides, shall not a Belgian gentleman with amoustachedesire tosee lifeandsmokeopium justas readilyasonewithoutamoustache?

“Ehbien,hegaveinonthat,buthestillinsistedonhisproject.Heturnedupthatevening—Mondieu,whatafigure!Heworewhathecalledthe‘peajacket,’hischin,itwasdirtyandunshaved;hehadascarfofthevilestthatoffendedthenose.And figure to yourself, hewas enjoying himself! Truly, the English aremad!Hemade some changes inmy own appearance. I permitted it. Can onearguewithamaniac?Westartedout—afterall,couldIlethimgoalone,achilddresseduptoactthecharades?”

“Ofcourseyoucouldn’t,”Ireplied.

“Tocontinue—wearrived.Mr.PearsontalkedEnglishof thestrangest.Herepresentedhimselftobeamanofthesea.Hetalkedof‘lubbers’and‘focselles’andIknownotwhat.ItwasalowlittleroomwithmanyChineseinit.Weateofpeculiar dishes.Ah, Dieu, mon estomac! ” Poirot clasped that portion of hisanatomybeforecontinuing.“Thentherecametoustheproprietor,aChinamanwithafaceofevilsmiles.

“‘Yougentlemennolikeefoodhere,’hesaid.‘Youcomeforwhatyoulikeebetter.Pieceepipe,eh?’

“Mr. Pearson, he gaveme the great kick under the table. (He had on thebootsoftheseatoo!)Andhesaid:‘Idon’tmindifIdo,John.Leadahead.’

“TheChinamansmiled,andhe tookus throughadoorand toacellarandthrough a trapdoor, anddown some steps andup again into a roomall full ofdivansandcushionsof themostcomfortable.WelaydownandaChineseboytookoffourboots.Itwasthebestmomentoftheevening.Thentheybroughtusthe opium pipes and cooked the opium pills, andwe pretended to smoke andthentosleepanddream.Butwhenwewerealone,Mr.Pearsoncalledsoftlytome,and immediatelyhebegancrawlingalong the floor.Wewent intoanotherroom where other people were asleep, and so on, until we heard two mentalking.We stayed behind a curtain and listened. They were speaking ofWuLing.

“‘Whataboutthepapers?’saidone.“‘Mr.Lester,hetakeethose,’answeredtheother,whowasaChinaman.‘He

say,putteethemalleeinsafeeplace—wherepleecemannolookee.’“‘Ah,buthe’snabbed,’saidthefirstone.“‘Hegetteefree.Pleecemannotsurehedoneit.’“Therewasmore of the samekind of thing, then apparently the twomen

werecomingourway,andwescuttledbacktoourbeds.“ ‘We’d better get out of here,’ said Pearson, after a few minutes had

elapsed.‘Thisplaceisn’thealthy.’“ ‘You are right, monsieur,’ I agreed. ‘We have played the farce long

enough.’“Wesucceededingettingaway,allright,payinghandsomelyforoursmoke.

OnceclearofLimehouse,Pearsondrewalongbreath.“‘I’mgladtogetoutofthat,’hesaid.‘Butit’ssomethingtobesure.’“‘Itisindeed,’Iagreed.‘AndIfancythatweshallnothavemuchdifficulty

infindingwhatwewant—afterthisevening’smasquerade.’“Andtherewasnodifficultywhatsoever,”finishedPoirotsuddenly.ThisabruptendingseemedsoextraordinarythatIstaredathim.“But—butwherewerethey?”Iasked.“Inhispocket—toutsimplement.”“Butinwhosepocket?”“Mr. Pearson’s,parbleu! ” Then, observingmy look of bewilderment, he

continuedgently:“Youdonotyetseeit?Mr.Pearson,likeCharlesLester,wasindebt.Mr.Pearson,likeCharlesLester,wasfondofgambling.Andheconceivedthe idea of stealing the papers from the Chinaman. He met him all right atSouthampton,cameuptoLondonwithhim,andtookhimstraighttoLimehouse.Itwas foggy that day; theChinamanwould not noticewhere hewas going. Ifancy Mr. Pearson smoked the opium fairly often down there and had somepeculiar friends inconsequence. Idonot thinkhemeantmurder.His ideawasthatoneof theChinamenshould impersonateWuLingandreceive themoneyforthesaleofthedocument.Sofar,sogood!But,totheOrientalmind,itwasinfinitely simpler to kill Wu Ling and throw his body into the river, andPearson’sChineseaccomplicesfollowedtheirownmethodswithoutconsultinghim.Imagine,then,whatyouwouldcallthe‘funkbleu’ofM.Pearson.SomeonemayhaveseenhiminthetrainwithWuLing—murderisaverydifferentthingfromsimpleabduction.

“His salvation lieswith theChinamanwho is personatingWuLing at theRussellSquareHotel.Ifonlythebodyisnotdiscoveredtoosoon!ProbablyWuLinghadtoldhimofthearrangementbetweenhimandCharlesLesterwherebythelatterwastocallforhimatthehotel.Pearsonseesthereanexcellentwayof

diverting suspicion fromhimself.CharlesLester shall be the last person to beseen in company with Wu Ling. The impersonator has orders to representhimself to Lester as the servant ofWuLing, and to bring him as speedily aspossible to Limehouse. There, very likely, he was offered a drink. The drinkwould be suitably drugged, andwhenLester emerged an hour later, hewouldhaveaveryhazyimpressionofwhathadhappened.Somuchwasthisthecase,thatassoonasLesterlearnedofWuLing’sdeath,heloseshisnerve,anddeniesthatheeverreachedLimehouse.

“By that, of course, he plays right into Pearson’s hands. But is Pearsoncontent?No—mymannerdisquietshim,andhedeterminestocompletethecaseagainstLester.Sohearrangesanelaboratemasquerade.Me, Iam tobegulledcompletely.DidInotsayjustnowthathewasasachildactingthecharades?Ehbien, I play my part. He goes home rejoicing. But in the morning, InspectorMiller 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!Therewasonlyonerealdifficultyintheaffair.”

“Whatwasthat?”Idemandedcuriously.“Convincing Inspector Miller! What an animal, that! Both obstinate and

imbecile.Andintheendhetookallthecredit!”“Toobad,”Icried.“Ah,well,Ihadmycompensations.TheotherdirectorsoftheBurmaMines

Ltd awarded me fourteen thousand shares as a small recompense for myservices. Not so bad, eh? But when investing money, keep, I beg of you,Hastings,strictlytotheconservative.Thethingsyoureadinthepaper,theymaynot be true. The directors of the Porcupine—they may be so manyMr.Pearsons!”

Fourteen

THE C HOCOLATE B OX

Itwasawildnight.Outside, thewindhowledmalevolently,and the rainbeatagainstthewindowsingreatgusts.

Poirot and I sat facing the hearth, our legs stretched out to the cheerfulblaze. Between us was a small table. On my side of it stood some carefullybrewedhottoddy;onPoirot’swasacupofthick,richchocolatewhichIwouldnothavedrunkforahundredpounds!Poirotsippedthethickbrownmessinthepinkchinacup,andsighedwithcontentment.

“Quellebellevie!”hemurmured.“Yes,it’sagoodoldworld,”Iagreed.“HereamIwithajob,andagoodjob

too!Andhereareyou,famous—”“Oh,monami!”protestedPoirot.“But you are. And rightly so! When I think back on your long line of

successes,Iampositivelyamazed.Idon’tbelieveyouknowwhatfailureis!”“Hewouldbeadrollkindoforiginalwhocouldsaythat!”“No,butseriously,haveyoueverfailed?”“Innumerable times, my friend. What would you? La bonne chance, it

cannotalwaysbeonyourside.Ihavebeencalledintoolate.Veryoftenanother,working towards the same goal, has arrived there first. Twice have I beenstrickendownwithillnessjustasIwasonthepointofsuccess.Onemusttakethedownswiththeups,myfriend.”

“Ididn’tquitemean that,” Isaid.“Imeant,hadyoueverbeencompletelydownandoutoveracasethroughyourownfault?”

“Ah,Icomprehend!YouaskifIhaveevermadethecompleteprizeassofmyself, as you say over here? Once, my friend—” A slow, reflective smilehoveredoverhisface.“Yes,onceImadeafoolofmyself.”

Hesatupsuddenlyinhischair.“Seehere,myfriend,youhave,Iknow,keptarecordofmylittlesuccesses.

Youshalladdonemorestorytothecollection,thestoryofafailure!”Heleanedforwardandplacedalogonthefire.Then,aftercarefullywiping

hishandsonalittledusterthathungonanailbythefireplace,heleanedbackandcommencedhisstory.

ThatofwhichItellyou(saidM.Poirot)tookplaceinBelgiummanyyearsago. It was at the time of the terrible struggle in France between church andstate.M.PaulDéroulardwasaFrenchdeputyofnote.ItwasanopensecretthattheportfolioofaMinisterawaitedhim.Hewasamongthebitterestoftheanti-Catholicparty,anditwascertainthatonhisaccessiontopower,hewouldhavetofaceviolentenmity.Hewasinmanywaysapeculiarman.Thoughheneitherdrank nor smoked, hewas nevertheless not so scrupulous in otherways.Youcomprehend,Hastings,c’étaitdesfemmes—toujoursdesfemmes!

He had married some years earlier a young lady from Brussels who hadbroughthimasubstantialdot.Undoubtedlythemoneywasusefultohiminhiscareer,ashis familywasnot rich, thoughon theotherhandhewasentitled tocallhimselfM.leBaronifhechose.Therewerenochildrenofthemarriage,andhis wife died after two years—the result of a fall downstairs. Among theproperty which she bequeathed to himwas a house on the Avenue Louise inBrussels.

Itwas in thishouse thathissuddendeath tookplace, theeventcoincidingwith the resignationof theMinisterwhose portfolio hewas to inherit.All thepapersprintedlongnoticesofhiscareer.Hisdeath,whichhadtakenplacequitesuddenlyintheeveningafterdinner,wasattributedtoheartfailure.

At that time, mon ami, I was, as you know, a member of the Belgian

detectiveforce.ThedeathofM.PaulDéroulardwasnotparticularlyinterestingtome. I am, as you alsoknow,boncatholique, and his demise seemed tomefortunate.

Itwassomethreedaysafterwards,whenmyvacationhadjustbegun,thatIreceivedavisitor atmyownapartments—a lady,heavilyveiled,but evidentlyquiteyoung;andIperceivedatoncethatshewasajeunefilletoutàfaitcommeilfaut.

“YouareMonsieurHerculePoirot?”sheaskedinalowsweetvoice.Ibowed.“Ofthedetectiveservice?”AgainIbowed.“Beseated,Iprayofyou,mademoiselle,”Isaid.Sheacceptedachairanddrewasideherveil.Herfacewascharming,though

marredwithtears,andhauntedasthoughwithsomepoignantanxiety.“Monsieur,” she said, “I understand that you are now taking a vacation.

Thereforeyouwillbefreetotakeupaprivatecase.YouunderstandthatIdonotwishtocallinthepolice.”

I shookmyhead. “I fearwhatyouask is impossible,mademoiselle.Eventhoughonvacation,Iamstillofthepolice.”

She leaned forward. “Ecoutez, monsieur. All that I ask of you is toinvestigate.Theresultofyourinvestigationsyouareatperfectlibertytoreporttothepolice.IfwhatIbelievetobetrueistrue,weshallneedallthemachineryofthelaw.”

That placed a somewhat different complexion on thematter, and I placedmyselfatherservicewithoutmoreado.

Aslightcolourroseinhercheeks.“Ithankyou,monsieur.ItisthedeathofM.PaulDéroulardthatIaskyoutoinvestigate.”

“Comment?”Iexclaimed,surprised.“Monsieur, I have nothing to go upon—nothing butmywoman’s instinct,

but I am convinced—convinced, I tell you—that M. Déroulard did not die anaturaldeath!”

“Butsurelythedoctors—”“Doctors may be mistaken. He was so robust, so strong. Ah, Monsieur

Poirot,Ibeseechofyoutohelpme—”The poor childwas almost beside herself. Shewould have knelt tome. I

soothedherasbestIcould.“I will help you, mademoiselle. I feel almost sure that your fears are

unfounded,butwewillsee.First,Iwillaskyoutodescribetometheinmatesofthehouse.”

“Therearethedomestics,ofcourse,Jeannette,Félice,andDenisethecook.Shehasbeentheremanyyears;theothersaresimplecountrygirls.AlsothereisFrançois, but he too is an old servant. Then there is Monsieur Déroulard’smotherwholivedwithhim,andmyself.MynameisVirginieMesnard.Iamapoor cousinof the lateMadameDéroulard,M.Paul’swife, and Ihavebeenamemberof theirménageforover threeyears. Ihavenowdescribed toyou thehousehold.Therewerealsotwoguestsstayinginthehouse.”

“Andtheywere?”“M. de Saint Alard, a neighbour of M. Déroulard’s in France. Also an

Englishfriend,Mr.JohnWilson.”“Aretheystillwithyou?”“Mr.Wilson,yes,butM.deSaintAlarddepartedyesterday.”“Andwhatisyourplan,MademoiselleMesnard?”“Ifyouwillpresentyourselfatthehouseinhalfanhour’stime,Iwillhave

arrangedsomestorytoaccountforyourpresence.Ihadbetterrepresentyoutobe connected with journalism in some way. I shall say you have come fromParis,andthatyouhavebroughtacardofintroductionfromM.deSaintAlard.Madame Déroulard is very feeble in health, and will pay little attention todetails.”

Onmademoiselle’singeniouspretextIwasadmittedtothehouse,andaftera brief interview with the dead deputy’s mother, who was a wonderfullyimposingandaristocraticfigurethoughobviouslyinfailinghealth,Iwasmade

freeofthepremises.Iwonder,myfriend(continuedPoirot),whetheryoucanpossiblyfigureto

yourself the difficulties of my task? Here was a man whose death had takenplacethreedayspreviously.Iftherehadbeenfoulplay,onlyonepossibilitywasadmittable—poison!AndIhadnochanceofseeingthebody,andtherewasnopossibilityof examining,or analysing, anymedium inwhich thepoisoncouldhave been administered. There were no clues, false or otherwise, to consider.Hadthemanbeenpoisoned?Hadhediedanaturaldeath?I,HerculePoirot,withnothingtohelpme,hadtodecide.

First, I interviewed the domestics, and with their aid, I recapitulated theevening.Ipaidespecialnoticetothefoodatdinner,andthemethodofservingit.ThesouphadbeenservedbyM.Déroulardhimselffromatureen.Nextadishofcutlets,thenachicken.Finally,acompoteoffruits.Andallplacedonthetable,and served byMonsieur himself. The coffee was brought in a big pot to thedinner-table. Nothing there, mon ami—impossible to poison one withoutpoisoningall!

After dinner Madame Déroulard had retired to her own apartments andMademoiselleVirginie had accompanied her. The threemen had adjourned toM. Déroulard’s study. Here they had chatted amicably for some time, whensuddenly, without any warning, the deputy had fallen heavily to the ground.M. de Saint Alard had rushed out and told François to fetch the doctorimmediately.Hesaiditwaswithoutdoubtanapoplexy,explainedtheman.Butwhenthedoctorarrived,thepatientwaspasthelp.

Mr.JohnWilson,towhomIwaspresentedbyMademoiselleVirginie,waswhatwasknowninthosedaysasaregularJohnBullEnglishman,middle-agedandburly.His account, delivered in veryBritishFrench,was substantially thesame.

“Déroulardwentveryredintheface,anddownhefell.”Therewasnothingfurthertobefoundoutthere.NextIwenttothesceneof

thetragedy,thestudy,andwasleftalonethereatmyownrequest.Sofarthere

wasnothingtosupportMademoiselleMesnard’stheory.Icouldnotbutbelievethat it was a delusion on her part. Evidently she had entertained a romanticpassionforthedeadmanwhichhadnotpermittedhertotakeanormalviewofthe case. Nevertheless, I searched the studywithmeticulous care. It was justpossible that a hypodermic needle might have been introduced into the deadman’schairinsuchawayastoallowofafatalinjection.Theminutepunctureitwould cause was likely to remain unnoticed. But I could discover no sign tosupportthetheory.Iflungmyselfdowninthechairwithagestureofdespair.

“Enfin, I abandon it!” I said aloud. “There is not a clue anywhere!Everythingisperfectlynormal.”

AsIsaidthewords,myeyesfellonalargeboxofchocolatesstandingonatablenearby,andmyheartgavealeap.ItmightnotbeacluetoM.Déroulard’sdeath,buthereatleastwassomethingthatwasnotnormal.Iliftedthelid.Theboxwasfull,untouched;notachocolatewasmissing—but thatonlymade thepeculiaritythathadcaughtmyeyemorestriking.For,seeyou,Hastings,whiletheboxitselfwaspink,thelidwasblue.Now,oneoftenseesablueribbononapink box, and vice versa, but a box of one colour, and a lid of another—no,decidedly—çanesevoitjamais!

I did not as yet see that this little incident was of any use to me, yet Idetermined to investigate it as being out of the ordinary. I rang the bell forFrançois, and asked him if his late master had been fond of sweets. A faintmelancholysmilecametohislips.

“Passionately fond of them, monsieur. He would always have a box ofchocolatesinthehouse.Hedidnotdrinkwineofanykind,yousee.”

“Yetthisboxhasnotbeentouched?”Iliftedthelidtoshowhim.“Pardon, monsieur, but that was a new box purchased on the day of his

death,theotherbeingnearlyfinished.”“Thentheotherboxwasfinishedonthedayofhisdeath,”Isaidslowly.“Yes,monsieur,Ifounditemptyinthemorningandthrewitaway.”

“DidM.Déroulardeatsweetsatallhoursoftheday?”“Usuallyafterdinner,monsieur.”Ibegantoseelight.“François,”Isaid,“youcanbediscreet?”“Ifthereisneed,monsieur.”“Bon!Know,then,thatIamofthepolice.Canyoufindmethatotherbox?”“Withoutdoubt,monsieur.Itwillbeinthedustbin.”Hedeparted, and returned in a fewminuteswith a dust-coveredobject. It

wastheduplicateoftheboxIheld,saveforthefactthatthistimetheboxwasblueandthelidwaspink. I thankedFrançois, recommendedhimoncemore tobediscreet,andleftthehouseintheAvenueLouisewithoutmoreado.

NextIcalleduponthedoctorwhohadattendedM.Déroulard.WithhimIhad a difficult task. He entrenched himself prettily behind a wall of learnedphraseology, but I fancied that he was not quite as sure about the case as hewouldliketobe.

“Therehavebeenmanycuriousoccurrencesofthekind,”heobserved,whenI had managed to disarm him somewhat. “A sudden fit of anger, a violentemotion—afteraheavydinner,c’estentendu—then,withanaccessofrage,thebloodfliestothehead,andpst!—thereyouare!”

“ButM.Déroulardhadhadnoviolentemotion.”“No?ImadesurethathehadbeenhavingastormyaltercationwithM.de

SaintAlard.”“Whyshouldhe?”“C’estévident!”Thedoctorshruggedhisshoulders.“WasnotM.deSaint

AlardaCatholicofthemostfanatical?Theirfriendshipwasbeingruinedbythisquestion of church and state.Not a day passedwithout discussions.ToM. deSaintAlard,DéroulardappearedalmostasAntichrist.”

Thiswasunexpected,andgavemefoodforthought.“Onemorequestion,Doctor:woulditbepossibletointroduceafataldose

ofpoisonintoachocolate?”

“Itwouldbepossible,Isuppose,”saidthedoctorslowly.“Pureprussicacidwouldmeetthecaseiftherewerenochanceofevaporation,andatinyglobuleofanythingmightbeswallowedunnoticed—but itdoesnotseemavery likelysupposition.Achocolatefullofmorphineorstrychnine—”Hemadeawryface.“You comprehend, M. Poirot—one bite would be enough! The unwary onewouldnotstanduponceremony.”

“Thankyou,M.leDocteur.”Iwithdrew.Next Imade inquiries of the chemists, especially those in the

neighbourhood of theAvenueLouise. It is good to be of the police. I got theinformationIwantedwithoutanytrouble.OnlyinonecasecouldIhearofanypoisonhavingbeensuppliedtothehouseinquestion.ThiswassomeeyedropsofatropinesulphateforMadameDéroulard.Atropineisapotentpoison,andforthemoment Iwas elated, but the symptoms of atropine poisoning are closelyallied to those of ptomaine, and bear no resemblance to those Iwas studying.Besides,theprescriptionwasanoldone.MadameDéroulardhadsufferedfromcataractsinbotheyesformanyyears.

Iwasturningawaydiscouragedwhenthechemist’svoicecalledmeback.“Unmoment,M.Poirot.Iremember,thegirlwhobroughtthatprescription,

shesaidsomethingabouthavingtogoontotheEnglishchemist.Youmighttrythere.”

I did. Once more enforcing my official status, I got the information Iwanted.OnthedaybeforeM.Déroulard’sdeaththeyhadmadeupaprescriptionforMr. JohnWilson. Not that there was any making up about it. They weresimply little tablets of trinitrine. I asked if I might see some. He showedmethem,andmyheartbeatfaster—forthetinytabletswereofchocolate.

“Isitapoison?”Iasked.“No,monsieur.”“Canyoudescribetomeitseffect?”“Itlowersthebloodpressure.Itisgivenforsomeformsofhearttrouble—

anginapectorisforinstance.Itrelievesthearterialtension.Inarteriosclerosis—”

Iinterruptedhim.“Mafoi!Thisrigmarolesaysnothingtome.Doesitcausethefacetoflush?”

“Certainlyitdoes.”“AndsupposingIateten—twentyofyourlittletablets,whatthen?”“Ishouldnotadviseyoutoattemptit,”hereplieddrily.“Andyetyousayitisnotpoison?”“Therearemanythingsnotcalledpoisonwhichcankillaman,”hereplied

asbefore.Ilefttheshopelated.Atlast,thingshadbeguntomarch!InowknewthatJohnWilsonhadthemeansforthecrime—butwhatabout

themotive?HehadcometoBelgiumonbusiness,andhadaskedM.Déroulard,whomheknewslightly, toputhimup.TherewasapparentlynowayinwhichDéroulard’s death could benefit him. Moreover, I discovered by inquiries inEngland that he had suffered for some years from that painful form of heartdiseaseknownasangina.Thereforehehadagenuinerighttohavethosetabletsinhispossession.Nevertheless, Iwasconvinced thatsomeonehadgone to thechocolate box, opening the full one first by mistake, and had abstracted thecontents of the last chocolate, cramming in instead as many little trinitrinetablets as it would hold. The chocolates were large ones. Between twenty orthirtytablets,Ifeltsure,couldhavebeeninserted.Butwhohaddonethis?

Thereweretwoguestsinthehouse.JohnWilsonhadthemeans.SaintAlardhad the motive. Remember, he was a fanatic, and there is no fanatic like areligious fanatic. Could he, by any means, have got hold of John Wilson’strinitrine?

Another little ideacametome.Ah,yousmileatmylittle ideas!WhyhadWilson run out of trinitrine? Surely he would bring an adequate supply fromEngland.IcalledoncemoreatthehouseintheAvenueLouise.Wilsonwasout,but I saw the girl who did his room, Félice. I demanded of her immediatelywhetheritwasnottruethatM.Wilsonhadlostabottlefromhiswashstandsomelittle time ago. The girl responded eagerly. Itwas quite true. She, Félice, had

beenblamed for it.TheEnglishgentlemanhadevidently thought that shehadbroken it, and did not like to say so.Whereas she had never even touched it.WithoutdoubtitwasJeannette—alwaysnosingroundwhereshehadnobusinesstobe—

Icalmedtheflowofwords,andtookmyleave.IknewnowallthatIwantedtoknow.Itremainedformetoprovemycase.That,Ifelt,wouldnotbeeasy.Imight be sure that SaintAlard had removed the bottle of trinitrine from JohnWilson’swashstand,buttoconvinceothers,Iwouldhavetoproduceevidence.AndIhadnonetoproduce!

Nevermind.Iknew—thatwasthegreatthing.YourememberourdifficultyintheStylescase,Hastings?Thereagain,Iknew—butittookmealongtimetofind the last link which made my chain of evidence against the murderercomplete.

Iaskedforan interviewwithMademoiselleMesnard.Shecameatonce. IdemandedofhertheaddressofM.deSaintAlard.Alookoftroublecameoverherface.

“Whydoyouwantit,monsieur?”“Mademoiselle,itisnecessary.”Sheseemeddoubtful—troubled.“Hecantellyounothing.Heisamanwhosethoughtsarenotinthisworld.

Hehardlynoticeswhatgoesonaroundhim.”“Possibly, mademoiselle. Nevertheless, he was an old friend of

M.Déroulard’s. Theremay be things he can tellme—things of the past—oldgrudges—oldlove-affairs.”

Thegirl flushedandbither lip.“Asyouplease—but—butIfeelsurenowthatIhavebeenmistaken.Itwasgoodofyoutoaccedetomydemand,butIwasupset—almostdistraughtatthetime.Iseenowthatthereisnomysterytosolve.Leaveit,Ibegofyou,monsieur.”

Ieyedherclosely.“Mademoiselle,”Isaid,“it issometimesdifficultforadogtofindascent,

butoncehehasfoundit,nothingonearthwillmakehimleaveit!Thatisifheisagooddog!AndI,mademoiselle,I,HerculePoirot,amaverygooddog.”

Withoutawordsheturnedaway.Afewminuteslatershereturnedwiththeaddresswrittenonasheetofpaper.Ileftthehouse.Françoiswaswaitingformeoutside.Helookedatmeanxiously.

“Thereisnonews,monsieur?”“Noneasyet,myfriend.”“Ah!Pauvre Monsieur Déroulard!” he sighed. “I too was of his way of

thinking. I do not care for priests. Not that Iwould say so in the house. Thewomen are all devout—a good thing perhaps. Madame est très pieuse—etMademoiselleVirginieaussi.”

MademoiselleVirginie?Wasshe“trèspieuse?”Thinkingofthetear-stainedpassionatefaceIhadseenthatfirstday,Iwondered.

Having obtained the address of M. de Saint Alard, I wasted no time. Iarrived in the neighbourhood of his château in theArdennes but it was somedaysbeforeIcouldfindapretextforgainingadmissiontothehouse.IntheendIdid—howdoyouthink—asaplumber,monami!Itwastheaffairofamomenttoarrangeaneatlittlegasleakinhisbedroom.Idepartedformytools,andtookcaretoreturnwiththematanhourwhenIknewIshouldhavethefieldprettywelltomyself.WhatIwassearchingfor,Ihardlyknew.Theonethingneedful,Icouldnotbelievetherewasanychanceoffinding.Hewouldneverhaveruntheriskofkeepingit.

StillwhenI found the littlecupboardabove thewashstand locked, Icouldnot resist the temptation of seeing what was inside it. The lock was quite asimpleonetopick.Thedoorswungopen.Itwasfullofoldbottles.Itookthemup one by one with a trembling hand. Suddenly, I uttered a cry. Figure toyourself,my friend, I held inmyhanda littlephialwith anEnglish chemist’slabel.Onitwerethewords:“TrinitrineTablets.Onetobetakenwhenrequired.Mr.JohnWilson.”

I controlledmy emotion, closed the cupboard, slipped the bottle into my

pocket,andcontinuedtorepairthegasleak!Onemustbemethodical.ThenIleftthechâteau,andtooktrainformyowncountryassoonaspossible.IarrivedinBrusselslatethatnight.Iwaswritingoutareportforthepréfetinthemorning,when a note was brought to me. It was from oldMadame Déroulard, and itsummonedmetothehouseintheAvenueLouisewithoutdelay.

Françoisopenedthedoortome.“MadamelaBaronneisawaitingyou.”He conductedme to her apartments. She sat in state in a large armchair.

TherewasnosignofMademoiselleVirginie.“M.Poirot,”saidtheoldlady,“Ihavejustlearnedthatyouarenotwhatyou

pretendtobe.Youareapoliceofficer.”“Thatisso,madame.”“Youcameheretoinquireintothecircumstancesofmyson’sdeath?”AgainIreplied:“Thatisso,madame.”“Ishouldbegladifyouwouldtellmewhatprogressyouhavemade.”Ihesitated.“FirstIwouldliketoknowhowyouhavelearnedallthis,madame.”“Fromonewhoisnolongerofthisworld.”Herwords,andthebroodingwaysheutteredthem,sentachilltomyheart.I

wasincapableofspeech.“Therefore,monsieur, Iwouldbegofyoumosturgently to tellmeexactly

whatprogressyouhavemadeinyourinvestigation.”“Madame,myinvestigationisfinished.”“Myson?”“Waskilleddeliberately.”“Youknowbywhom?”“Yes,madame.”“Who,then?”“M.deSaintAlard.”“Youarewrong.M.deSaintAlardisincapableofsuchacrime.”

“Theproofsareinmyhands.”“Ibegofyouoncemoretotellmeall.”ThistimeIobeyed,goingovereachstepthathadledmetothediscoveryof

thetruth.Shelistenedattentively.Attheendshenoddedherhead.“Yes,yes,itisallasyousay,allbutonething.ItwasnotM.deSaintAlard

whokilledmyson.ItwasI,hismother.”Istaredather.Shecontinuedtonodherheadgently.“It is well that I sent for you. It is the providence of the good God that

Virginietoldmebeforeshedepartedfortheconvent,whatshehaddone.Listen,M.Poirot!Mysonwasanevilman.Hepersecutedthechurch.Heledalifeofmortal sin. He dragged down the other souls beside his own. But there wasworsethanthat.AsIcameoutofmyroominthishouseonemorning,Isawmydaughter-in-lawstandingattheheadofthestairs.Shewasreadingaletter.Isawmysonstealupbehindher.Oneswiftpush,andshefell,strikingherheadonthemarblesteps.Whentheypickedherupshewasdead.Mysonwasamurderer,andonlyI,hismother,knewit.”

Sheclosedhereyesforamoment.“Youcannotconceive,monsieur,ofmyagony,mydespair.WhatwasItodo?Denouncehimtothepolice?Icouldnotbringmyself todo it. Itwasmyduty,butmy fleshwasweak.Besides,wouldtheybelieveme?Myeyesighthadbeenfailingforsometime—theywouldsayIwasmistaken.Ikeptsilence.Butmyconsciencegavemenopeace.BykeepingsilenceItoowasamurderer.Mysoninheritedhiswife’smoney.Heflourishedas the green bay tree. And now he was to have a Minister’s portfolio. Hispersecutionofthechurchwouldberedoubled.AndtherewasVirginie.She,poorchild, beautiful, naturally pious,was fascinated by him.He had a strange andterriblepoweroverwomen.Isawitcoming.Iwaspowerless toprevent it.Hehadno intentionofmarryingher.The timecamewhenshewas ready toyieldeverythingtohim.

“Then I sawmy path clear. Hewasmy son. I had given him life. I wasresponsible for him. He had killed one woman’s body, now he would kill

another’ssoul! Iwent toMr.Wilson’sroom,and took thebottleof tablets.Hehadoncesaidlaughinglythattherewereenoughinittokillaman!Iwentintothestudyandopenedthebigboxofchocolatesthatalwaysstoodonthetable.Iopenedanewboxbymistake.Theotherwasonthetablealso.Therewasjustonechocolateleftinit.Thatsimplifiedthings.NooneatechocolatesexceptmysonandVirginie.Iwouldkeepherwithmethatnight.AllwentasIhadplanned—”

Shepaused,closinghereyesaminutethenopenedthemagain.“M.Poirot,Iaminyourhands.TheytellmeIhavenotmanydaystolive.I

amwillingtoanswerformyactionbeforethegoodGod.MustIanswerforitonearthalso?”

Ihesitated.“Buttheemptybottle,madame,”Isaidtogaintime.“HowcamethatintoM.deSaintAlard’spossession?”

“Whenhecametosaygoodbyetome,monsieur,Islippeditintohispocket.Ididnotknowhowtogetridofit.IamsoinfirmthatIcannotmoveaboutmuchwithout help, and finding it empty inmy roomsmight have caused suspicion.You understand,monsieur—” she drew herself up to her full height—“it waswithnoideaofcastingsuspiciononM.deSaintAlard!Ineverdreamedofsuchathing.Ithoughthisvaletwouldfindanemptybottleandthrowitawaywithoutquestion.”

Ibowedmyhead.“Icomprehend,madame,”Isaid.“Andyourdecision,monsieur?”Hervoicewasfirmandunfaltering,herheadheldashighasever.Irosetomyfeet.“Madame,” I said,“Ihave thehonour towishyougoodday. Ihavemade

myinvestigations—andfailed!Thematterisclosed.”Hewassilentforamoment, thensaidquietly:“Shediedjustaweeklater.

Mademoiselle Virginie passed through her novitiate, and duly took the veil.That,myfriend,isthestory.ImustadmitthatIdonotmakeafinefigureinit.”

“But thatwashardlyafailure,”Iexpostulated.“Whatelsecouldyouhave

thoughtunderthecircumstances?”“Ah,sacré,monami,”criedPoirot,becomingsuddenlyanimated.“Isitthat

you do not see? But I was thirty-six times an idiot! My grey cells, theyfunctionednotatall.ThewholetimeIhadtheclueinmyhands.”

“Whatclue?”“Thechocolatebox!Doyounotsee?Wouldanyone inpossessionof their

fulleyesightmakesuchamistake?IknewMadameDéroulardhadcataracts—the atropine drops toldme that. There was only one person in the householdwhoseeyesightwassuchthatshecouldnotseewhichlidtoreplace.Itwasthechocolate box that started me on the track, and yet up to the end I failedconsistentlytoperceiveitsrealsignificance!

“Alsomypsychologywasatfault.HadM.deSaintAlardbeenthecriminal,hewouldneverhavekeptanincriminatingbottle.Findingitwasaproofofhisinnocence.IhadlearnedalreadyfromMademoiselleVirginiethathewasabsent-minded.AltogetheritwasamiserableaffairthatIhaverecountedtoyouthere!OnlytoyouhaveItoldthestory.Youcomprehend,Idonotfigurewellinit!Anold lady commits a crime in such a simple and clever fashion that I,HerculePoirot,amcompletelydeceived.Sapristi!Itdoesnotbearthinkingof!Forgetit.Orno—rememberit,andifyouthinkatanytimethatIamgrowingconceited—itisnotlikely,butitmightarise.”

Iconcealedasmile.“Ehbien,myfriend,youshallsaytome,‘Chocolatebox.’Isitagreed?”“It’sabargain!”“After all,” said Poirot reflectively, “it was an experience! I, who have

undoubtedly the finest brain in Europe at present, can afford to bemagnanimous!”

“Chocolatebox,”Imurmuredgently.“Pardon,monami?”I lookedatPoirot’s innocent face, ashebent forward inquiringly, andmy

heart smote me. I had suffered often at his hands, but I, too, though not

possessingthefinestbraininEurope,couldaffordtobemagnanimous!“Nothing,”Ilied,andlitanotherpipe,smilingtomyself.

About theAuthor

AgathaChristieisthemostwidelypublishedauthorofalltimeandinany

language,outsoldonlybytheBibleandShakespeare.Herbookshavesoldmore

than a billion copies in English and another billion in a hundred foreign

languages.Sheistheauthorofeightycrimenovelsandshort-storycollections,

nineteen plays, two memoirs, and six novels written under the name Mary

Westmacott.

She first tried her hand at detective fiction while working in a hospital

dispensaryduringWorldWarI,creatingthenowlegendaryHerculePoirotwith

her debut novel The Mysterious Affair at Styles. With The Murder in the

Vicarage,published in1930, she introducedanotherbelovedsleuth,Miss Jane

Marple. Additional series characters include the husband-and-wife crime-

fightingteamofTommyandTuppence

Beresford, private investigator Parker Pyne, and Scotland Yard detectives

SuperintendentBattleandInspectorJapp.

ManyofChristie’snovelsandshortstorieswereadaptedintoplays,films,

and television series.TheMousetrap, hermost famous play of all, opened in

1952 and is the longest-running play in history. Among her best-known film

adaptations areMurder on the Orient Express (1974) andDeath on the Nile

(1978), with Albert Finney and Peter Ustinov playing Hercule Poirot,

respectively.OnthesmallscreenPoirothasbeenmostmemorablyportrayedby

David Suchet, andMissMarple by JoanHickson and subsequentlyGeraldine

McEwanandJuliaMcKenzie.

ChristiewasfirstmarriedtoArchibaldChristieandthentoarchaeologistSir

MaxMallowan,whomsheaccompaniedonexpeditionstocountriesthatwould

alsoserveas thesettings formanyofhernovels. In1971sheachievedoneof

Britain’shighesthonorswhenshewasmadeaDameoftheBritishEmpire.She

died in 1976 at the age of eighty-five. Her one hundred and twentieth

anniversarywascelebratedaroundtheworldin2010.

www.AgathaChristie.com

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Copyright

Thisbookisaworkoffiction.Thecharacters,incidents,anddialoguearedrawnfrom the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Anyresemblancetoactualeventsorpersons,livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.

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