round asking questions--routine inquiries, he
called it. One of the new dress-shirted lot of
police, I suppose. Very tactful2nothing at all
hinted. Just interested in the fact that I'd been
hard up and was suddenly cutting a bit of a
splash."
"And were you?"
"Yes--some luck with a horse or two. Unluck-ily
my bets were made on the course--there's
nothing to show that that's how the money came
in. They can't disprove it, of course--but that's
just the sort of easy lie a fellow would invent if
he didn't want to show where the money came
from."
"I agree. Still they will have to have a good deal
more than that to go upon."
"Oh! I'm not afraid of actually being arrested
and charged with the theft. In a way that would be
easier--one would know where one was. It's the
ghastly fact that all those people believe I took it."
"One person in particular?"
"What do you mean?"
"A suggestion--nothing more--" Again Mr.
Parker Pyne waved his comfortable-looking hand.
"There was one person in particular, wasn't there?
Shall we say Mrs. Rustington?"
Llewellyn's dark face flushed.
"Why pitch on her?"
"Oh, my dear sir--there is obviously someone
whose opinion matters to you greatly--probably
a lady. What ladies were there? An American flap-per?
Lady Marroway? But you would probably
rise not fall in Lady Marroway's estimation if you
had brought off such a coup. I know something
THE REGATTA MYSTERY
21
of the lady. Clearly then, Mrs. Rustington."
Llewellyn said with something of an effort,
,'She--she's had rather an unfortunate experi-ence.
Her husband was a down and out rotter. It's
made her unwilling to trust anyone. She--if she
thinks--"
He found it difficult to go on.
"Quite so," said Mr. Parker Pyne. "I see the
matter is important. It must be cleared up."
Evan gave a short laugh.
"That's easy to say."
"And quite easy to do," said Mr. Parker Pyne.
"You think so?"
"Oh, yes--the problem is so clear cut. So many
possibilities are ruled out. The answer must really
be extremely simple. Indeed already I have a kind
of glimmering--"
Llewellyn stared at him incredulously.
Mr. Parker Pyne drew a pad of paper towards
him and picked up a pen.
"Perhaps you would give me a brief description
of the party."
"Haven't I already done so?"
"Their personal appearance--color of hair and
$o on."
"But, Mr. Parker Pyne, what can that have to
do with it?"
"A good deal, young man, a good deal. Classi-fication
and so on."
Somewhat unbelievingly, Evan described the
personal appearance of the members of the yacht-ing
party.
Mr. Parker Pyne made a note or two, pushed
away the pad and said:
22
Agatha Christie
"Excellent. By the way, did you say a wineglass
was broken?"
Evan stared again.
"Yes, it was knocked off the table and then it
got stepped on."
"Nasty thing, splinters of glass," said Mr.
Parker Pyne. "Whose wine-glass was it?"
"I think it was the child's--Eve."
"Ah!--and who sat next to her on that side?"
"Sir George Marroway."
"You didn't see which of them knocked it off
the table?"
"Afraid I didn't. Does it matter?"
"Not really. No. That was a superfluous question.
Well"--he stood up--"good morning, Mr.
Llewellyn. Will you call again in three days' time?
I think the whole thing will be quite satisfactorily
cleared up by then."
"Are you joking, Mr. Parker Pyne?"
"I never joke on professional matters, my dear
sir. It would occasion distrust in my clients. Shall
we say Friday at 11:30? Thank you."
Evan entered Mr. Parker Pyne's office on the
Friday morning in a considerable turmoil. Hope
and skepticism fought for mastery.
Mr. Parker Pyne rose to meet him with a beaming
smile.
"Good morning, Mr. Llewellyn. Sit down.
Have a cigarette?"
Llewellyn waved aside the proffered box.
"Well?" he said.
"Very well indeed," said Mr. Parker Pyne.
"The police arrested the gang last night."
THE REGATTA MYSTERY
23
"The gang? What gang?"
"The Amalfi gang. I thought of them at once
when you told me your story. I recognized their
methods and once you had described the guests,
well, there was no doubt at all in my mind."
"Who are the Amalfi gang?"
"Father, son and daughter-in-law--that is if
Pietro and Maria are really married--which some
doubt."
"I don't understand."
"It's quite simple. The name is Italian and no
doubt the origin is Italian, but old Amalfi was
born in America. His methods are usually the
same. He impersonates a real business man, intro-duces
himself to some prominent figure in the
jewel business in some European country and then
plays his little trick. In this case he was deliber-ately
on the track of the Morning Star. Pointz'
idiosyncrasy was well known in the trade. Maria
Amalfi played the part of his daughter (amazing
creature, twenty-seven at least, and nearly always
plays a part of sixteen)."
"Not Eve!" gasped Llewellyn.
"Exactly. The third member of the gang got
himself taken on as an extra waiter at the Royal
Georgewit was holiday time, remember, and they
would need extra staff. He may even have bribed a
regular man to stay away. The scene is set. Eve
challenges old Pointz and he takes on the bet. He
passes round the diamond as he had done the
night before. The waiters enter the room and
Leathern retains the stone until they have left the
room. When they do leave, the diamond lea¢s
also, neatly attached with a morsel of chewing
24
Agatha Christie
gum to the underside of the plate that Pietro bears
away. So simple!"
"But I saw it after that."
"No, no, you saw a paste replica, good enough
to deceive a casual glance. Stein, you told me,
hardly looked at it. Eve drops it, sweeps off a glass
too and steps firmly on stone and glass together.
Miraculous disappearance of diamond. Both Eve
and Leathern can submit to as much searching as
anyone pleases."
"Well--I'm--" Evan shook his head, at a loss
for words.
"You say you recognized the gang from my
description. Had they worked this trick before?"
"Not exactly--but it was their kind of business.
Naturally my attention was at once directed to the
girl
Eve."
"Why? I didn't suspect her--nobody did. She
seemed such a--such a child."
"That is the peculiar genius of Maria Amalfi.
She is more like a child than any child could
possibly be! And then the plasticine! This bet was
supposed to have arisen quite spontaneouslymyet
the little lady had some plasticine with her all
handy. That spoke of premeditation. My suspicions
fastened on her at once."
Llewellyn rose to his feet.
"Well, Mr. Parker Pyne, I'm no end obliged to
you."
"Classification," murmured Mr. Parker Pyne.
"The classification of criminal types--it interests
me."
"You'll let me know how much--er--"
,. "My fee will be quite moderate," said Mr.
THE REGATTA MYSTERY
25
Parker Pyne. "It will not make too big a hole in
the--er--horse racing profits. All the same, young
man, I should, I think, leave the horses alone in
future. Very uncertain animal, the horse."
"That's all right," said Evan.
He shook Mr. Parker Pyne by the hand and
strode from the office.
He hailed a taxi and gave the address of Janet
Rustington's flat.
He felt in a mood to carry all before him.
'T/e Mystery
of the Bagdad Chest
The words made a catchy headline, and I said as
much to my friend, Hercule Poirot. I knew none
of the parties. My interest was merely the dispas-sionate
one of the man in the street. Poirot agreed.
"Yes, it has a flavor of the Oriental, of the
mysterious. The chest may very well have been a
sham Jacobean one from the Tottenham Court
Road; none the less the reporter who thought of
naming it the Bagdad Chest was happily inspired.
The word 'Mystery' is also thoughtfully placed in
juxtaposition, though I understand there is very
little mystery about the case."
"Exactly. It is all rather horrible and macabre,
but it is not mysterious."
"Horrible and macabre," repeated Poir°t
thoughtfully.
"The whole idea is revolting," I said, rising to
29
30
Agatha Christie
my feet and pacing up and down the room. "The
murderer kills this man--his friend--shoves him
into the chest, and half an hour later is dancing in
that same room with the wife of his victim. Think!
If she had imagined for one moment--"
"True," said Poirot thoughtfully. "That much-vaunted
possession, a woman's intuition--it does
not seem to havebeen working."
"The party seems to have gone off very mer-rily,''
I said with a slight shiver. "And all that
time, as they danced and played poker, there was a
dead man in the room with them. One could write
a play about such an idea."
"It has been done," said Poirot. "But console
yourself, Hastings," he added kindly. "Because
a theme has been used once, there is no reason
why it should not be used again. Compose your
drama."
I had picked up the paper and was studying the
rather blurred reproduction of a photograph.
"She must be a beautiful woman," I said
slowly. "Even from this, one gets an idea."
Below the picture ran the inscription:
A RECENT PORTRAIT OF MRS. CLAYTON, THE
WIFE OF THE MURDERED MAN
Poirot took the paper from me.
"Yes," he said. "She is beautiful. Doubtless
she is of those born to trouble the souls of men."
He handed the paper back to me with a sigh.
"Dieu merci, I am not of an ardent tempera-ment.
It has saved me from many embarrass-ments.
I am duly thankful."
THE MYSTERY OF THE BAGDAD CHEST
31
I do not remember that we discussed the case
further. Poirot displayed no special interest in it at
the time. The facts were so clear, and there was so
little ambiguity about them, that discussion
seemed merely futile.
Mr. and Mrs. Clayton and Major Rich were
friends of fairly long standing. On the day in question,
the tenth of March, the Claytons had accepted
an invitation to spend the evening with
Major Rich. At about seven-thirty, however,
Clayton explained to another friend, a Major Cur-tiss,
with whom he was having a drink, that he had
been unexpectedly called to Scotland and was
leaving by the eight o'clock train.
"I'll just have time to drop in and explain to old
Jack," went on Clayton. "Marguerita is going, of
course. I'm sorry about it, but Jack will understand how it is."
Mr. Clayton was as good as his word. He arrived
at Major Rich's rooms about twenty to
eight. The major was out at the time, but his
manservant, who knew Mr. Clayton well, suggested
that he come in and wait. Mr. Clayton said
that he had not time, but that he would come in
and write a note. He added that he was on his way
to catch a train.
The valet accordingly showed him into the sitting
room.
About five minutes later Major Rich, who must
have let himself in without the valet hearing him,
opened the door of the sitting room, called his
man and told him to go out and get some cigarettes.
On his return the man brought them to his
master, who was then alone in the sitting room.
32
Agatha Christie
The man naturally conclnded that Mr. Clayton
had left.
The guests arrived shortly afterwards. They
comprised Mrs. Clayton, Major Curtiss and a Mr.
and Mrs. Spence. The evening was spent dancing
to the phonograph and playing poker. The guests
left shortly after midnight.
The following morning, on coming to do the sit-ting
room, the valet was startled to find a deep
stain discoloring the carpet below and in front of a
piece of furniture which Major Rich had brought
from the East and which was called the Bagdad
Chest.
Instinctively the valet lifted the lid of the chest
and was horrified to find inside the doubled-up
body of a man who had been stabbed to the heart.
Terrified, the man ran out of the flat and
fetched the nearest policeman. The dead man
proved to be Mr. Clayton. The arrest of Major
Rich followed very shortly afterward. The major's
defense, it was understood, consisted of a sturdy
denial of everything. He had not seen Mr. Clayton
the preceding evening and the first he had heard of
his going to Scotland had been from Mrs. Clay-ton.
Such were the bald facts of the case. Innuendoes
and suggestions naturally abounded. The close
friendship and intimacy of Major Rich and Mrs.
Clayton were so stressed that only a fool could fail
to read between the lines. The motive for the crime
was plainly indicated.
Long experience has taught me to make allow-ance
/> for baseless calumny. The motive suggested
might, for all the evidence, be entirely nonexis
THE MYSTERY OF THE BAGDAD CHEST
33
tent. Some quite other reaso/a might have precipitated
the issue. But one thing did stand out clearly
--that Rich was the murderer.
As I say, the matter might have rested there,
had it not happened that Poirot and I were due at
a party given by Lady Chatterton that night.
Poirot, whilst bemoaning social engagements
and declaring a passion for solitude, really enjoyed
these affairs enormously. To be made a fuss
of and treated as a lion suited him down to the
ground.
On occasions he positively purred! I have seen
him blandly receiving the most outrageous compliments
as no more than his due, and uttering the
most blatantly conceited remarks, such as I can
hardly bear to set down.
Sometimes he would argue with me on the subject.
"But, my friend, I am not an AngloSaxon.
Why should I play the hypocrite? Si, si, that is
what you do, all of you. The airman who has
made a difficult flight, the tennis champion--they
look down their noses, they mutter inaudibly that
'it is nothing.' But do they really think that themselves?
Not for a moment. They would admire the
exploit in someone else. So, being reasonable men,
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