'Where?'
'They were in your pocket, my lord.'
There was a pause, then Lord Mayfield said.'
'Do you really know what you are saying, M. Poirot?'
'Yes, I know. I know that I am speaking to a very clever man.
From the first it worried me that you, who were admitxedly
short-sighted, should be so positive about the figure you had
seen leaving the window. You wanted that solution - the
convenient solution - to be accepted. Why? Later, one by one,
I eliminated everyone else. Mrs Vandedyn was upstairs, Sir
George was with you on the terrace, Reggie Carrington was
with the French girl on the stairs, Mrs Macatta was blamelessly
in her bedroom. (It is next to the housekeeper's room, and Mrs
Macatta snores!) Lady Julia clearly believed her son guilty. So
there remained only two possibilities. Either Carlile did not put
the papers on the desk but into his own pocket (and that is not
reasonable, because, as you pointed out, he could have taken a
tracing of them), or else - or else the plans were there when you
walked over to the desk, and the only place they could have
gone was into your pocket. In that case everything was clear.
Your insistence on the figure you had seen, your insistence on
Carlile's innocence, your disinclination to have me summoned.
'One thing did puzzle me - the motive. You were, I was
convinced, an honest man, a man of integrity. That showed in
56
your anxiety that no innocent person should be suspected. It
was also obvious that the theft of the plans might easily affect
your career unfavourably. Why, then, this wholly unreason-able
theft? And at last the answer came to me. The crisis in your
career, some years ago, the assurances given to the world by the
prime Minister that you had had no negotiations with the
power in question. Suppose that that was not strictly true, that
there remained some record - a letter, perhaps - showing that
in actual fact you had done what you had publicly denied. Such
a denial was necessary in the interests of public policy. But it is
doubtful if the man in the street would see it that way. It might
mean that at the moment when supreme power might be given
into your hands, some stupid echo from the past would undo
everything.
'I suspect that that letter has been preserved in the hands of
a certain government, that that government offered to trade
with you - the letter in exchange for the plans of the new
bomber. Some men would have refused. You - did not! You
agreed. Mrs Vanderlyn was the agent in the matter. She came
here by arrangement to make the exchange. You gave yourself
iaway when you admitted that you had formed no definite
stratagem for entrapping her. That admission made your
'Sreason for inviting her here incredibly weak.
'You arranged the robbery. Pretended to see the thief on the
terrace - thereby clearing Carlile of suspicion. Even if he had
not left the room, the desk was so near the window that a thief
might have taken the plans while Carlile was busy at the safe
with his back turned. You walked over to the desk, took the
plans and kept them on your own person until the moment
when, by prearranged plan, you slipped them into Mrs
Vanderlyn's dressing-case. In return she handed you the fatal
letter disguised as an unposted letter of her own.'
Poirot stopped.
Lord Mayfield said:
'Your knowledge is very complete, M. Poirot. You must
think me an unutterable skunk.'
Poirot made a quick gesture.
57
'No, no, Lord Mayfield. I think, as I said, that you are a very
clever man. It came to me suddenly as we talked here last night.
You are a first-class engineer. There will be, I think, some
subtle alterations in the specifications of that bomber, altera-tions
done so skilfully that it will be difficult to grasp why the
machine is not the success it ought to be. A certain foreign
power will find the type a failure... It will be a disappointment
to them, I am sure...'
Again there was a silence - then Lord Mayfield said:
'You are much too clever, M. Poirot. I will only ask you to
believe one thing. I have faith in myself. I believe that I am the
man to guide England through the days of crisis that I see
coming. If I did not honestly believe that I am needed by my
country to steer the ship of state, I would not have done what
I have done - made the best of both worlds - saved myself from
disaster by a clever trick.'
'My lord,' said Poirot, 'if you could not make the best of both
worlds, you could not be a politician!'
58
MURDER IN THE MEWS
CHAPTER I
'Penny for the guy, sir?'
A small boy with a grimy face grinned ingratiatingly.
'Certainly not!' said Chief Inspector Japp. 'And, look here,
my lad '
A short homily followed. The dismayed urchin beat a
precipitate retreat, remarking briefly and succinctly to his
youthful friends:
'Blimey, if it ain't a cop all togged up!'
The band took to its .heels, chanting the incantation:
Remember, remember
The fifth of November
Gunpowder treason and plot.
We see no reason
Why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.
The chief inspector's companion, a small, elderly man with
an egg-shaped head and large, military-looking moustaches,
was smiling to himself.
'Trbs btam, Japp,' he observed. 'You preach the sermon very
well! I congratulate you!'
'Rank excuse for begging, that's what Guy Fawkes' Day is!'
said Japp.
'An interesting survival,' mused Hercule Poiroc 'The
f'treworks go up - crack - crack - long after the man they
COmmemorate and his deed are forgotten.'
The Scotland Yard man agreed.
59
'Don't suppose many of those kids really know who Guy
Fawkes Was.'
'And soon, doubtless, there will be confusion of thoug Is
it in honour or in execration that on the fifth of Novembe the leu d artifice are sent up. To blow up an English Parlian ,:t,
was it a sin or a noble deed?'
Japp chuckled.
'Some people would say undoubtedly the latter.'
Turning off the main road, the two men passed into the
comparative quiet of a mews. They had been dining toge er
and were now taking a short cut to Hercule Poirot's flat
As they walked along the sound of squibs was still heard
periodically. An occasional shower of golden rain illuminated
the sky.
'Good night for a murder,' remarked Japp with professional
interest. 'Nobody would hear a shot, for instance, on a night
like this.'
'It has always seemed odd to me that more criminals do not
take advantage of the fact,' said Hercule Poirot.
'Do you know, Poirot, I almost wish sometimes that you
would commit a murder.'
Then chert'
'Yes, I'd like to see just how you'd set about it.'
'My dear Japp,/fi committed a murder you would not have
the least chance of seeing - how I set about it! You would not
even be aware, probably, that a murder had been committed.'
Japp laughed good-humouredly and affectionately.
'Cocky little devil, aren't you?' he said indulgently.
At half-past eleven the following morning, Hercule Poirot's
telephone rang.
"Allo? 'Allo?'
'Hallo, that you, Poirot?'
'Oui, c' est mot'.'
'Japp speaking here. Remember we came home last night
through Bardsley Gardens Mews?'
'Yes?'
60
'And that we talked about how easy it would be to shoot a
person with all those squibs and crackers and the rest of it going
off?.'
'Well, there was a suicide in that mews. No. 14. A young
widow - Mrs Allen. I'm going round there now. Like to come?'
'Excuse me, but does someone of your eminence, my dear
friend, usually get sent to a case of suicide?'
'Sharp fellow. No - he doesn't. As a matter of fact our doctor
seems to think there's something funny about this. Will you
come? I kind of feel you ought to be in on it.'
'Certainly I will come. No. 14, you say?'
'That's right.'
Poirot arrived at No. 14 Bardsley Gardens Mews almost at the
same moment as a car drew up containing Japp and three other
No. 14 was clearly marked out as the centre of interest. A big
. circle of people, chauffeurs, their wives, errand boys, loafers,
: well-dressed passers-by and innumerable children were drawn
up all staring at No. I4 with open mouths and a fascinated
stare.
A police constable in uniform stood on the step and did his
best to keep back the curious. Alert-looking young men with
cameras were busy and surged forward as Japp alighted.
i 'Nothing for you now,' said Japp, brushing them aside. He
nodded to Poirot. 'So here you are. Let's get inside.'
They passed in quickly, the door shut behind them and they
found themselves squeezed together at the foot of a ladder-like
flight of stairs.
A man came to the top of the staircase, recognized Japp and
said:
'Up here, sir.'
Japp and Poirot mounted the stairs.
The man at the stairhead opened a door on the left and they
found themselves in a small bedroom.
'Thought you'd like me to run over the chief points, sir.'
61
'Quite right, Jameson,' said Japp. 'What about it?'
Divisional Inspector Jameson took up the tale.
'Deceased's a Mrs Allen, sir. Lived here with a friend - a
Miss Plenderleith. Miss Plenderleith was away staying in the
country and returned this morning. She let herself in with her
key, was surprised to fred no one about. A woman usually
comes in at nine o'clock to do for them. She went upstairs fn-st
into her own room (that's this room) then across the landing to
her friend's room. Door was locked on the inside. She rattled
the handle, knocked and called, but couldn't get any answer. In
the end getting alarmed she rang up the police station. That
was at ten forty-five. We came along at once and forced the
door open. Mrs Allen was lying in a heap on the ground shot
through the head. There was an automatic in her hand - a
Webley .25 - and it looked a clear case of suicide.'
'Where is Miss Plenderleith now?'
'She's downstairs in the sitting-room, sir. A very cool,
efficient young lady, I should say. Got a head on her.'
'I'll talk to her presently. I'd better see Brett now.'
Accompanied by Poirot he crossed the landing and entered
the opposite room. A tall, elderly man looked up and nodded.
'Hallo, Japp, glad you've got here. Funny business, this.'
Japp advanced towards him. Hercule Poirot sent a quick
searching glance round the room.
It was much larger than the room they had just quitted It
had a built-out bay window, and whereas the other room had
been a bedroom pure and simple, this was emphatically a
bedroom disguised as a sitting-room.
The wails were silver and the ceiling emerald green. There
were curtains of a modernistic pattern in silver and green.
There was a divan covered with a shimmering emerald green
silk quilt and numbers of gold and silver cushions. There ,'as
a tall antique walnut bureau, a walnut tallboy, and sev cal
modem chairs of gleaming chromium. On a low glass
there was a big ashtray full of cigarette stubs.
Delicately Hercule Poirot sniffed the air. Then he joined
Japp where the latter stood looking down at the body.
62
In a heap on the floor, lying as she had fallen from one of the chromium chairs, was the body of a young woman of perhaps
twenty-seven. She had fair hair and delicate features. There
was very little make-up on the face. It was a pretty, wistful,
perhaps slightly stupid face. On the left side of the head was a
mass of congealed blood. The £mgers of the right hand were
clasped round a small pistol. The woman was dressed in a
simple frock of dark green high to the neck.
'Well, Brett, what's the trouble?'
Japp was looking down also at the huddled figure.
'Position's all right,' said the doctor. 'If she shot herself she'd
probably have slipped from the chair into just that position.
The door was locked and the window was fastened on the
inside.'
'That's all right, you say. Then what's wrong?'
'Take a look at the pistol. I haven't handled it - waiting for
the £mgerprint men. But you can see quite well what I mean.'
Together Poirot and Japp knelt down and examined the
pistol closely.
'I see what you mean,' said Japp rising. 'It's in the curve of
her hand. It looks as though she's holding it - but as a matter of
fact she isn't holding it. Anything else?'
'Plenty. She's got the pistol in her fight hsmd. Now take a
look at the wound. The pistol was held close to the head just
above the left ear - the left ear, mark you.'
'H'm,' said Japp. 'That does seem to settle it. She couldn't
hold a pistol and fire it in that position with her right hand?'
'Plumb impossible, I should say. You might get your arm
round but I doubt if you could fire the shot.'
'That seems pretty obvious then. Someone else shot her and
tried to make it look like suicide. What about the locked door
and window, though?'
Inspector Jameson answered this.
'Window was closed and bolted, sir, but although the door
was locked we haven't been able to find the key.'
Japp nodded.
'Yes, that was a bad break. Whoever did it locked the door
63
when he left and hoped the absence of the key wouldn't be
noticed.'
Poirot murmured:
'C'est bte, fa!'
'Oh, come now, Poirot, old man, you mustn't judge
everybody else by the light of your shining intellect! As a
matter of fact that's the sort of little detail that's quite apt to be
overlooked. Door's lo
cked. People break in. Woman foux:t
dead - pistol in her hand - clear case of suicide - she locked
herself in to do it. They don't go hunting about for keys. As a
matter of fact, Miss Plenderleith's sending for the police was lucky. She might have got one or two of the chauffeurs to come
and burst in the door - and then the key question would have
been overlooked altogether.'
'Yes, I suppose that is true,' said Hercule Poirot. 'It would
have been many people's natural reaction. The police, they are
the last resource, are they not?'
He was still staring down at the body.
'Anything strike you?' Japp asked.
The question was careless but his eyes were keen and
attentive.
Hercule Poirot shook his head slowly.
'I was looking at her wristwatch.'
He bent over and just touched it with a finger-tip. It was a
dainty jewelled affair on a black moir strap on the wrist of tlc
hand that held the pistol.
'Rather a swell piece that,' observed Japp. 'Must have co,t
money!' He cocked his head inquiringly at Poirot. 'Somethitg
in that maybe?'
'It is possible - yes.'
Poirot strayed across to the writing-bureau. It was the kixd
that has a front flap that lets down. This WaS daintily set out
match the general colour scheme.
There was a somewhat massive silver inkstand in the centre,
in front of it a handsome green lacquer blotter. To the left of the
blotter was an emerald glass pen-tray containing a silver
penholder - a stick of green sealing-wax, a pencil and two
AgathaChristie-HerculePoirotsCasebook Page 7
