Short Stories

by Agatha Christie

  'What's the matter?' said the doctor, appearing in pyjamas.

  'My friend. He's ill. Dying. The camomile tea. Don't let Hassan leave the camp.'

  Like a flash the doctor ran to our tent. Poirot was lying as I left him.

  'Extraordinary,' cried Ames. 'Looks like a seizure - or - what did you say about something he drank?' He picked up the empty cup.

  'Only I did not drink it!' said a placid voice.

  We turned in amazement. Poirot was sitting up on the bed. He was smiling.

  'No,' he said gently. 'I did not drink it. While my good friend Hastings was apostrophising the night, I took the opportunity of pouring it, not down my throat, but into a little bottle. That little bottle will go to the analytical chemist. No' - as the doctor made a sudden movement - 'as a sensible man, you will understand that violence will be of no avail. During Hastings' brief absence to fetch you, I have had time to put the bottle in safe keeping. Ah, quick, Hastings, hold him!'

  I misunderstood Poirot's anxiety. Eager to save my friend, I flung myself in front of him. But the doctor's swift movement had another meaning. His hand went to his mouth, a smell of bitter almonds filled the air, and he swayed forward and fell.

  'Another victim,' said Poirot gravely, 'but the last. Perhaps it is the best way. He has three deaths on his head.'

  'Dr Ames?' I cried, stupefied. 'But I thought you believed in some occult influence?'

  'You misunderstood me, Hastings. What I meant was that I believe in the terrific force of superstition. Once get it firmly established that a series of deaths are supernatural, and you might almost stab a man in broad daylight, and it would still be put down to the curse, so strongly is the instinct of the supernatural implanted in the human race. I suspected from the first that a man was taking advantage of that instinct. The idea came to him, I imagine, with the death of Sir John Willard. A fury of superstition arose at once. As far as I could see, nobody could derive any particular profit from Sir John's death. Mr Bleibner was a different case. He was a man of great wealth. The information I received from New York contained several suggestive points. To begin with, young Bleibner was reported to have said he had a good friend in Egypt from whom he could borrow. It was tacitly understood that he meant his uncle, but it seemed to me that in that case he would have said so outright.

  The words suggest some boon companion of his own. Another thing, he scraped up enough money to take him to Egypt, his uncle refused outright to advance him a penny, yet he was able to pay the return passage to New York. Someone must have lent him the money.'

  'All that was very thin,' I objected.

  'But there was more. Hastings, there occur often enough words spoken metaphorically which are taken literally. The opposite can happen too. In this case, words which were meant literally were taken metaphorically. Young Bleibner wrote plainly enough: 'I am a leper,' but nobody realized that he shot himself because he believed that he had contracted the dread disease of leprosy.'

  'What?' I ejaculated.

  'It was the clever invention of a diabolical mind. Young Bleibner was suffering from some minor skin trouble; he had lived in the South Sea Islands, where the disease is common enough. Ames was a former friend of his, and a well- known medical man, he would never dream of doubting his word. When I arrived here, my suspicions were divided between Harper and Dr Ames, but I soon realized that only the doctor could have perpetrated and concealed the crimes, and I learnt from Harper that he was previously acquainted with young Bleibner. Doubtless the latter at some time or another had made a will or had insured his life in favour of the doctor. The latter saw his chance of acquiring wealth. It was easy for him to inoculate Mr Bleibner with the deadly germs. Then the nephew, overcome with despair at the dread news his friend had conveyed to him, shot himself. Mr Bleibner, whatever his intentions, had made no will. His fortune would pass to his nephew and from him to the doctor.'

  'And Mr Schneider?'

  'We cannot be sure. He knew young Bleibner too, remember, and may have suspected something, or, again, the doctor may have thought that a further death motiveless and purposeless would strengthen the coils of superstition. Furthermore, I will tell you an interesting psychological fact, Hastings. A murderer has always a strong desire to repeat his successful crime, the performance of it grows upon him. Hence my fears for young Willard. The figure of Anubis you saw to-night was Hassan, dressed up by my orders. I wanted to see if I could frighten the doctor. But it would take more than the supernatural to frighten him. I could see that he was not entirely taken in by my pretences of belief in the occult. The little comedy I played for him did not deceive him. I suspected that he would endeavour to make me the next victim. Ah, but in spite of la mer maudite, the heat abominable, and the annoyances of the sand, the little grey cells still functioned!'

  Poirot proved to be perfectly right in his premises. Young Bleibner, some years ago, in a fit of drunken merriment, had made a jocular will, leaving 'my cigarette-case you admire so much and everything else of which I die possessed which will be principally debts to my good friend Robert Ames who once saved my life from drowning.'

  The case was hushed up as far as possible, and, to this day, people talk of the remarkable series of deaths in connection with the Tomb of Men-her-Ra as a triumphal proof of the vengeance of a bygone king upon the desecrators of his tomb - a belief which, as Poirot pointed out to me, is contrary to all Egyptian belief and thought.

  The Jewel Robbery at the Grand Metropolitan

  II

  The next morning, hearing nothing from Poirot, I went out for a stroll, met some old friends, and lunched with them at their hotel. In the afternoon we went for a spin. A punctured tyre delayed us, and it was past eight when I got back to the Grand Metropolitan.

  The first sight that met my eyes was Poirot, looking even more diminutive than usual, sandwiched between the Opalsens, beaming in a state of placid satisfaction.

  'Mon ami Hastings!' he cried, and sprang to meet me. 'Embrace me, my friend; all has marched to a marvel!'

  Luckily, the embrace was merely figurative - not a thing one is always sure of with Poirot.

  'Do you mean - ' I began.

  'Just wonderful, I call it!' said Mrs Opalsen, smiling all over her fat face. 'Didn't I tell you, Ed, that if he couldn't get back my pearls nobody would?'

  'You did, my dear, you did. And you were right.'

  I looked helplessly at Poirot, and he answered the glance.

  'My friend Hastings is, as you say in England, all at the seaside.

  Seat yourself, and I will recount to you all the affair that has so happily ended.'

  'Ended?'

  'But yes. They are arrested.'

  'Who are arrested?'

  'The chambermaid and the valet, parbleu ! You did not suspect? Not with my parting hint about the French chalk?'

  'You said cabinet-makers used it.'

  'Certainly they do - to make drawers slide easily. Somebody wanted that drawer to slide in and out without any noise. Who could that be? Obviously, only the chambermaid. The plan was so ingenious that it did not at once leap to the eye - not even to the eye of Hercule Poirot.

  'Listen, this was how it was done. The valet was in the empty room next door, waiting. The French maid leaves the room. Quick as a flash the chambermaid whips open the drawer, takes out the jewelcase and, slipping back the bolt, passes it through the door. The valet opens it at his leisure with the duplicate key with which he has provided himself, extracts the necklace, and waits his time.

  Célestine leaves the room again, and - pst! - in a flash the case is passed back again and replaced in the drawer.

  'Madame arrives, the theft is discovered. The chambermaid demands to be searched, with a good deal of righteous indignation, and leaves the room without a stain on her character. The imitation necklace with which they have provided themselves has been concealed in the French girl's bed that morning by the chambermaid-a master stroke, ça !'

  'But what did yo
u go to London for?'

  'You remember the card?'

  'Certainly. It puzzled me - and puzzles me still. I thought - '

  I hesitated delicately, glancing at Mr Opalsen.

  Poirot laughed heartily.

  'Une blague! For the benefit of the valet. The card was one with a specially prepared surface - for fingerprints. I went straight to Scotland Yard, asked for our old friend Inspector Japp, and laid the facts before him. As I had suspected, the fingerprints proved to be those of two well-known jewel thieves who have been "wanted" for some time. Japp came down with me, the thieves were arrested, and the necklace was discovered in the valet's possession. A clever pair, but they failed in method. Have I not told you, Hastings, at least thirty-six times, that without method - '

  'At least thirty-six thousand times!' I interrupted. 'But where did their "method" break down?'

  'Mon ami, it is a good plan to take a place as chambermaid or valet but you must not shirk your work. They left an empty room undusted; and therefore, when the man put down the jewel-case on the little table near the communicating door, it left a square mark - '

  'I remember,' I cried.

  'Before, I was undecided. Then - I knew!'

  There was a moment's silence.

  'And I've got my pearls,' said Mrs Opalsen as a sort of Greek chorus.

  'Well,' I said, 'I'd better have some dinner.'

  Poirot accompanied me.

  'This ought to mean kudos for you,' I observed.

  'Pas du tout,' replied Poirot tranquilly. 'Japp and the local inspector will divide the credit between them. But' - he tapped his pocket - 'I have a cheque here, from Mr Opalsen, and, how say you, my friend?

  This weekend has not gone according to plan. Shall we return here next weekend - at my expense this time?'

  The Kidnapped Prime Minister

  II

  At three o'clock, we stood once more upon Charing Cross platform.

  To all our expostulations, Poirot turned a deaf ear, and reiterated again and again that to start at the beginning was not a waste of time, but the only way. On the way over, he had conferred with Norman in a low voice, and the latter had despatched a sheaf of telegrams from Dover.

  Owing to the special passes held by Norman, we got through everywhere in record time. In London, a large police car was waiting for us, with some plain-clothes men, one of whom handed a typewritten sheet of paper to my friend. He answered my inquiring glance.

  'A list of the cottage hospitals within a certain radius west of London. I wired for it from Dover.'

  We were whirled rapidly through the London streets. We were on the Bath Road. On we went, through Hammersmith, Chiswick and Brentford. I began to see our objective. Through Windsor and on to Ascot. My heart gave a leap. Ascot was where Daniels had an aunt living. We were after him, then, not O'Murphy.

  We duly stopped at the gate of a trim villa. Poirot jumped out and rang the bell. I saw a perplexed frown dimming the radiance of his face. Plainly, he was not satisfied. The bell was answered. He was ushered inside. In a few moments he reappeared, and climbed into the car with a short, sharp shake of his head. My hopes began to die down. It was past four now. Even if he found certain evidence incriminating Daniels, what would be the good of it, unless he could wring from someone the exact spot in France where they were holding the Prime Minister?

  Our return progress towards London was an interrupted one. We deviated from the main road more than once, and occasionally stopped at a small building, which I had no difficulty in recognizing as a cottage hospital. Poirot only spent a few minutes at each, but at every halt his radiant assurance was more and more restored.

  He whispered something to Norman, to which the latter replied:

  'Yes, if you turn off to the left, you will find them waiting by the bridge.'

  We turned up a side road, and in the failing light I discerned a second car, waiting by the side of the road. It contained two men in plain clothes. Poirot got down and spoke to them, and then we started off in a northerly direction, the other car following close behind.

  We drove for some time, our objective being obviously one of the northern suburbs of London. Finally, we drove up to the front door of a tall house, standing a little back from the road in its own grounds.

  Norman and I were left with the car. Poirot and one of the detectives went up to the door and rang. A neat parlourmaid opened it. The detective spoke.

  'I am a police officer, and I have a warrant to search this house.'

  The girl gave a little scream, and a tall, handsome woman of middle age appeared behind her in the hall.

  'Shut the door, Edith. They are burglars, I expect.'

  But Poirot swiftly inserted his foot in the door, and at the same moment blew a whistle. Instantly the other detectives ran up, and poured into the house, shutting the door behind them.

  Norman and I spent about five minutes cursing our forced inactivity. Finally the door reopened, and the men emerged, escorting three prisoners - a woman and two men. The woman and one of the men were taken to the second car. The other man was placed in our car by Poirot himself.

  'I must go with the others, my friend. But have great care of this gentleman. You do not know him, no? Eh bien, let me present to you. Monsieur O'Murphy!'

  O'Murphy! I gaped at him open-mouthed as we started again. He was not handcuffed, but I did not fancy he would try to escape. He sat there staring in front of him as though dazed. Anyway, Norman and I would be more than a match for him.

  To my surprise, we still kept a northerly route. We were not returning to London, then! I was much puzzled. Suddenly, as the car slowed down, I recognized that we were close to Hendon Aerodrome. Immediately I grasped Poirot's idea. He proposed to reach France by aeroplane.

  It was a sporting idea, but, on the face of it, impracticable. A telegram would be far quicker. Time was everything. He must leave the personal glory of rescuing the Prime Minister to others.

  As we drew up. Major Norman jumped out, and a plain-clothes man took his place. He conferred with Poirot for a few minutes, and then went off briskly.

  I, too, jumped out, and caught Poirot by the arm.

  'I congratulate you, old fellow! They have told you the hiding-place?

  But, look here, you must wire to France at once. You'll be too late if you go yourself.'

  Poirot looked at me curiously for a minute or two.

  'Unfortunately, my friend, there are some things that cannot be sent by telegram.'

  III

  At that moment Major Norman returned, accompanied by a young officer in the uniform of the Flying Corps.

  'This is Captain Lyall, who will fly you over to France. He can start at once.'

  'Wrap up warmly, sir,' said the young pilot. 'I can lend you a coat, if you like.'

  Poirot was consulting his enormous watch. He murmured to himself: 'Yes, there is time - just time.' Then he looked up, and bowed politely to the young officer. 'I thank you, monsieur. But it is not I who am your passenger. It is this gentleman here.'

  He moved a little aside as he spoke, and a figure came forward out of the darkness. It was the second male prisoner who had gone in the other car, and as the light fell on his face, I gave a gasp of surprise.

  It was the Prime Minister!

  IV

  'For Heaven's sake, tell me all about it,' I cried impatiently, as

  Poirot, Norman and I motored back to London. 'How in the world did they manage to smuggle him back to England?'

  'There was no need to smuggle him back,' replied Poirot dryly. 'The Prime Minister has never left England. He was kidnapped on his way from Windsor to London.'

  'What?'

  'I will make all clear. The Prime Minister was in his car, his secretary beside him. Suddenly a pad of chloroform is clapped on his face - '

  'But by whom?'

  'By the clever linguistic Captain Daniels. As soon as the Prime Minister is unconscious, Daniels picks up the speaking-tube, and directs
O'Murphy to turn to the right, which the chauffeur, quite unsuspicious, does. A few yards down that unfrequented road a large car is standing, apparently broken down. Its driver signals to O'Murphy to stop. O'Murphy slows up. The stranger approaches.

  Daniels leans out of the window, and, probably with the aid of an instantaneous anaesthetic, such as ethylchloride, the chloroform trick is repeated. In a few seconds, the two helpless men are dragged out and transferred to the other car, and a pair of substitutes take their places.'

  'Impossible!'

  'Pas du tout! Have you not seen music-hall turns imitating celebrities with marvellous accuracy? Nothing is easier than to personate a public character. The Prime Minister of England is far easier to understudy than Mr John Smith of Clapham, say. As for O'Murphy's "double", no one was going to take much notice of him until after the departure of the Prime Minister, and by then he would have made himself scarce. He drives straight from Charing Cross to the meeting-place of his friends. He goes in as O'Murphy, he emerges as someone quite different. O'Murphy has disappeared, leaving a conveniently suspicious trail behind him.'

  'But the man who personated the Prime Minister was seen by everyone!'

  'He was not seen by anyone who knew him privately or intimately.

  And Daniels shielded him from contact with anyone as much as possible. Moreover, his face was bandaged up, and anything unusual in his manner would be put down to the fact that he was suffering from shock as a result of the attempt upon his life. Mr MacAdam has a weak throat, and always spares his voice as much as possible before any great speech. The deception was perfectly easy to keep up as far as France. There it would be impracticable and impossible - so the Prime Minister disappears. The police of this country hurry across the Channel, and no one bothers to go into the details of the first attack. To sustain the illusion that the abduction has taken place in France, Daniels is gagged and chloroformed in a convincing manner.'