The Kidnapped Prime Minister: A Hercule Poirot Short Story. Agatha Christie

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      ‘It concerns the Prime Minister. We are in grave trouble.’

      ‘We’re up a tree!’ interposed Mr Dodge.

      ‘The injury is serious then?’ I asked.

      ‘What injury?’

      ‘The bullet wound.’

      ‘Oh, that!’ cried Mr Dodge contemptuously. ‘That’s old history.’

      ‘As my colleague says,’ continued Lord Estair, ‘that affair is over and done with. Luckily, it failed. I wish I could say as much for the second attempt.’

      ‘There has been a second attempt, then?’

      ‘Yes, though not of the same nature, Monsieur Poirot, the Prime Minister has disappeared.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘He has been kidnapped!’

      ‘Impossible!’ I cried, stupefied.

      Poirot threw a withering glance at me, which I knew enjoined me to keep my mouth shut.

      ‘Unfortunately, impossible as it seems, it is only too true,’ continued his lordship.

      Poirot looked at Mr Dodge. ‘You said just now, monsieur, that time was everything. What did you mean by that?’

      The two men exchanged glances, and then Lord Estair said:

      ‘You have heard, Monsieur Poirot, of the approaching Allied Conference?’

      My friend nodded.

      ‘For obvious reasons, no details have been given of when and where it is to take place. But, although it has been kept out of the newspapers, the date is, of course, widely known in diplomatic circles. The Conference is to be held tomorrow – Thursday – evening at Versailles. Now you perceive the terrible gravity of the situation. I will not conceal from you that the Prime Minister’s presence at the Conference is a vital necessity. The Pacifist propaganda, started and maintained by the German agents in our midst, has been very active. It is the universal opinion that the turning-point of the Conference will be the strong personality of the Prime Minister. His absence may have the most serious results – possibly a premature and disastrous peace. And we have no one who can be sent in his place. He alone can represent England.’

      Poirot’s face had grown very grave. ‘Then you regard the kidnapping of the Prime Minister as a direct attempt to prevent his being present at the Conference?’

      ‘Most certainly I do. He was actually on his way to France at the time.’

      ‘And the Conference is to be held?’

      ‘At nine o’clock tomorrow night.’

      Poirot drew an enormous watch from his pocket.

      ‘It is now a quarter to nine.’

      ‘Twenty-four hours,’ said Mr Dodge thoughtfully.

      ‘And a quarter,’ amended Poirot. ‘Do not forget the quarter, monsieur – it may come in useful. Now for the details – the abduction, did it take place in England or in France?’

      ‘In France. Mr MacAdam crossed to France this morning. He was to stay tonight as the guest of the Commander-in-Chief, proceeding tomorrow to Paris. He was conveyed across the Channel by destroyer. At Boulogne he was met by a car from General Headquarters and one of the Commander-in-Chief’s ADCs.’

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