AgathaChristie-HerculePoirotsCasebook

by Hercule Poirot's Casebook (lit)

  Poirot nodded, and re-entered the library, the butler

  following.

  'Did you hear nothing of last night's events?'

  'Well, sir, we heard voices in the librm3b a little before nine.

  But that wasn't .unusual, especially being a lady's voice. But of

  course, once we were all in the servants' ha!l, right the other

  side, we didn't hear anything at all. And then, about eleven

  o'clock, the police came.'

  'How many voices did you hear?'

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

  'Ah!'

  239

  'I beg pardon, sir, but Dr Ryan is still in the house, if

  would care to see him.'

  We jumped at the suggestion, and in a few minutes h¢

  doctor, a cheery, middle-aged man, joined us, and gave

  all the information he required. Reedburn had been lying ::ear the window, his head by the marble window-seat. There were

  two wounds, one between the eyes, and the other, the fatal one,

  on the back of the head.

  'He was lying on his back?'

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

  the floor..

  'Could not the blow on the back of the head have been

  caused by his striking the floor?'

  'Impossible. Whatever the weapon was, it penetrated some

  distance into the skull.'

  Poirot looked thoughtfully in front of him. In the embrasure

  of each window was a carved marble seat, the arms being

  fashioned in the form of a lion's head. A light came into Poirot's

  eyes. 'Supposing he had fallen backwards on this projecting

  lion's head, and slipped from there to the ground. Would not

  that cause a wound such as you describe?'

  'Yes, it would. But the angle at which be was lying makes

  that theory impossible. And besides there could not fail to be

  traces of blood on the marble of the seat.'

  'Unless they were washed away?'

  The doctor shrugged his shoulders. 'That is hardly likely.

  would be to no one's advantage to give an accident

  appearance of murder.'

  'Quite so,' acquiesced Poirot. 'Could either of the blm,

  have been struck by a woman, do you think?'

  'Oh, quite out of the question, I should say. You are thinkix

  of Mademoiselle Saintclair, I suppose?'

  'I think of no one in particular until I tm sure,' said P0in

  gently.

  He turned his attention to the open french window, d the

  doctor continued:

  'It is through here that Mademoiselle Sfintdair fled. You

  can just catch a glimpse of Daisymel between the trees. Of

  24O

  course, there are many houses nearer to the front of house

  on the road, but as it happens, Daisymead, though some

  distance away, is the only house visible this side.'

  'Thank you for your amiability, Doctor,' said Poirnt. 'Come,

  we will follow the footsteps of Mademoiselle.'

  Poirot led the way down through the garden, out through an

  iron gate, across a short stretch of green and in through the

  garden gate of Daisymead, which was an unpretentious little

  house in about half an acre of grotmd. There was a small flight

  of steps leading up to a french window. Poirot nodded in their

  direction.

  'That is the way Mademoiselle Saintclair went. For us, who

  not her urgency to plead, it will be better to go round to

  be front door.'

  A maid admitted us and took us into the drawing-room, then

  went in search of Mrs Oglander. The room had evidently not

  been touched since the night before. The ashes were still in the

  grate, and the bridge-table was still in the centre of the room,

  with a dummy exposed, and the hands thrown down. The place

  was somewhat overloaded with gimcrack ornaments, and a

  good many family portraits of surpassing ugliness adorned the

  walls.

  Poirot gazed at them more leniently than I did,

  straightened one or two that were han a shade askew. 'La farnille, it is a strong tie, is it not? Sentiment, it takes the place

  of beauty.'

  I agreed, my eyes being fLxed on a family group comprising

  a gentleman with whiskers, a lady with a high 'front' of hair, a

  solid, thick-set boy, and two little girls tied up with a good

  many unnecessary bows of ribbon. I took this to be the

  Oglander family in earlier days, and studied it with interest.

  The door opened, and a young woman came in. Her dark

  hair was neatly arranged, and she wore a drab-coloured

  sportscoat and a tweed skirt.

  She looked at us inquiringly. Poirot stepped forward. 'Miss

  Oglander? I regret to derange you - especially after all you have

  241

  been through. The whole affair must have been most

  disturbing.'

  'It has been rather upsetting,' admitted the young lady

  1. to any tragedy. I was confirmed in this -:- .se

  cn;aaCl S Sll

  continued: 'I must apolog for the state this room is .

  Servants get so foolishly excited.'

  'It was here that you were sitting last night, n'est-ce pas?'

  'Yes, we were playing bridge after supper, when '

  'Excuse me - how long had you been playing?'

  'Well - ' Miss Oglander considered. 'I really can't say. I

  suppose it must have been about ten o'clock. We had had

  several rubbers, I know.'

  'And you yourself were sitting - where?'

  'Facing the window. I was playing with my mother and had

  gone one no trump. Suddenly, without any warning, the

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

  'You recognized her?'

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

  'She is still here, is she not?'

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

  prostrated.'

  'I think she will see me. Will you tell her that I am here at the

  express request of Prince Paul of Maurania?'

  I fancied that the mention of'a royal prince rather shook

  Miss Oglander's imperturbable calm. But she left the room on

  her errand without any further remark, and returned almost

  immediately to say that Mademoiselle Saintclair would see us

  in her room.

  We followed her upstairs, and into a fair-sized light

  bedroom. On a couch, by the window a woman was lying who

  turned her head as we entered. The contrast between the two

  women struck me at once, the more so as in actual features and

  colouring they were not unalike - but oh, the difference! Not a

  look, not a gesture of Valerie Saintclair's but expressed drama.

  She seemed to exhale an atmosphere of romance. A scarlet

  242

  flannel dressing-gown covered her feet - a homely garment in

  all conscience; but the charm of her personality invested it with

  a exotic fiavour, and it seemed an Eastern robe of glowing

  colour.

  Her large dark eyes fastened themselves on Poirot.

  'You come from Paul?' Her voice matched her appeanmce it

  was full and languid.

  es, mademoiselle. I am here to serve him - and you.'

  'What do you want to know?'

  'Everything that happened last night. But everything? She smiled rather wearily.

>   Do you think I should lie? I am not stupid. I see well

  enough that there can be no concealment. He held a secret of

  mine, that man who is dead. He threatened me with it. For

  !ul's sake, I endeavoured to make terms with him. I could not

  risk losing Paul... Now that he is dead, I am safe. But for all That , I did not kill him.'

  Poirot shook his head with a smile. 'It is not necessary to tell

  me that, mademoiselle. Now recount to me what happened last

  .Right?

  'I offered him money. He appeared to be willing to treat with

  me. He appointed last night at nine o'clock. I was to go to Mon

  Dsir. I knew the place; I had been there before. I was to go

  round to the side door into the library, so that the servants

  should not see me.

  'Excuse me, mademoiselle, but were you not afraid to trust

  yourself alone there at night?'

  Was it my fancy, or was there a momentary puse before she

  answered?

  'Perhaps I was. But you see, there was no one I could ask to

  go with me. And I was desperate. Reedburn admitted me to the

  library. Oh, that man! I am glad he is dead! He played with me,

  as a cat does with a mouse. He taunted me. I begged and

  implored him on my knees. I offered him eved jewel I have.

  All in vain! Then he named his own terms. Perhaps you can

  guess what they were. I refused. I told him what I thought of

  him. I raved at him. He remained calmly smiling. And then, as

  I fell to silence at last, there was a sound - from behind the

  243

  curtain in the winciow ... He heard it too. He stro to the

  curtains and flung them wide aprt. There was a ma,, there,

  hiding - a dreadful-looking man, a son of tramp. He !truck at

  Mr Reedburn - then he struck again, and he went do,l. The

  tramp clutched at me with his bloodstained hand. I toznyself

  free, slipped through the window, and ran formy life en I

  perceived the lights in this house, and made for the,,. The

  blinds were up, and I saw some people playing bridge.

  fell into the room. I just managed to gasp out "Murd-;!" and

  then everything went black '

  'Thank you, Mademoiselle. It must have been a great shock

  to your nervous system. As to this tramp, could you describe

  him? Do you remember what he was wearing?'

  'No - it was all so quick. But I should know the man

  anywhere. His face is burnt in on my brain.'

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

  For the first time a puzzled expression crept over the

  dancer's face. She seemed to be trying to remember.

  'Eh bien, mademohelle?'

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

  drawn.'

  'That is curious, since the other ones were. No matter. It is,

  I dare say, of no great imporumce. You are remaining here

  long, mademoiselle?'

  'The doctor thinks I shall be fit to return to town tomorrow.'

  She looked round the room. Miss Ogiander had gone out.

  'These people, they are very kind - but they are not of my

  world. I shock them! And to me - well, I am not fond of the bourgeoisie!'

  A faint note of bitterness underlay her words.

  Poirot nodded. 'I understand. I hope I have not fatigued you

  unduly with my questions?'

  'Not at all, monsieur. I am only too anxious Paul should

  know all as soon as possible.'

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

  As Poirot was leaving the room, he paused, and pounced on

  a pair of patent-leather slippers. 'Yours, mademoiselle?'

  244

  'yes, monsieur. They have just been cleaned and brought

  aPAh!' said Poirot, ss we descended the stairs. 'It seems that

  domestics are not too excited to clean shoes, though they

  forgea grate. Well, mon am/, at fut rJaere appeared.to be one

  or two points of interest, but I fear, I very muc fear, that wt

  must regard the case as £mished. It all seema straightforward

  'Kad the murderer?'

  'Hcrcule Poirot does not hunt down traml,' rplled my

  friead graadlloquently.

  Miss Oglarder agt us in the hall. 'If you will wait in the

  I

  -drawing-room a miaute, Mamma would to spe to you.'

  The room was still untouc3, and Poirot idly gatbeted up

  the cards, shutlTu them with his tiny, fastidiously groomed

  hands.

  'Do you know what I thing, my friend?

  'o?' I said eagerly.

  'I thinl that Mias Oglaad made a mitake in going one no

  trump. She should have gone three spades.'

  'Poirot! You ae the limit.'

  'Mon D/eu, I maot always be talifng blood and thunder!'

  Suddenly he stiffned: 'Hastings - Hast/ng$. See! The 1lng

  of clubs is missing from the pacX!'

  'Zara? I cried.

  'Eh?' he did not seem to umtersta my alluaion. Mec.ically

  he stacked the cards and put them away in thei cas. I-

  face was very grave.

  'Hastings,' he said at last, 'I, Hercole Poirot, have come

  to making a big mistake - a very big mistake.'

  I gazed at him, impressed, but uterly uncomprhemling.

  'We must begin again, Hastings. Yes, we must begin again.

  But this time we shall tot err.'

  He was interrupted by the enmmc of a hamlaome

  middle-aged lady. She carri some bouaehold books in hex

  hand. Poirot bowed to her.

  245

  'Do I understand, sir, that you are a friend of- er - Miss

  Saintclair's?'

  'I come from a friend of hers, madame.'

  'Oh, I see. I thought perhaps -'

  Poirot suddenly waved brusquely at the window.

  'Your blinds were not pulled down last night?'

  'No - I suppose that is why Miss Saintclair saw the light so

  plainly.'

  'There was moonlight last night. I wonder that you did not

  see Mademoiselle Saintclair from your seat here facing the

  windows?'

  'I suppose we were engrossed with our game. Nothing like

  this has ever happened before to us.'

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

  at rest. Mademoiselle Saintclair is leaving tomorrow.'

  'Oh!' The good lady's face cleared.

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

  A servant was cleaning the steps as we went out of the front

  door. Poirot addressed her.

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

  upstairs?'

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

  been cleaned.'

  'Who cleaned them, then?' I inquired of Poirot, as we

  walked down the road.

  'Nobody. They did not need cleaning.'

  'I grant that walking on the mad or path on. a fine night

  would not soil them. But surely after going through the long

  grass of the garden, they would have been soiled and stained.'

  'Yes,' said Poirot with a curious smile. 'In that case, I agree,

  they would have been stained.'

  'But - '

  'Have patience a little half-hour, my friend. We are going

  back to Mon D6sir.'

  The butler looked surprised at our reappearance, but offered

 
no objection to our returning to the library.

  46

  · 'Ii, that's the wrong window, Poirot,' I cried as he made for

  ¢ one overlool6ng the carriage-drive.

  'I think not, my friend. See here.' He pointed to the marble

  lion'S head. On it was a faint discoloured smear. He shifted his

  pounds er and pointed to a similar sufin on the polished floor.

  ,Someone struck Reedbum a blow with his clenched fist

  le, then slipped to the floor. Afterwards, he was

  gaUSs the floor to the other window, and laid there instead, but

  nC quite at the same angle, as the Doctor's evidence told us.'

  :'But why? It seems utterly unnecessary.'

  'On the contras, it was essential. Also, it is the k to the

  murderer's identity - though, by the way, he had no intention

  of killing Reedbum, and so it is hardly permissible to call him

  a murderer. He must be a very strong man?

  'Because of having dragged the body across the floor?'

  , 'Not altogether. It has been an intcresfing case. I nearly

  made an imbecile of myself, though.'

  'Do you mean to say it is over, that you know everything?'

  'Yes.'

  A remembrance smote me. 'No,' I cried. 'There is one thing

  you do not know!'

  'And that?'

  'You do not know where the missing king of clubs is!'

  'Eh? Oh, that is droll! That is very droll, my friend.'

  'Why?'

  'Becziuse it is in my pocMt!' He drew it forth with a flourish.

  'Oh!' I said, rather crestfallen. 'Where did you Fred it?

  Here?'

  'There was nothing sensational about it. It had simply not