Hercule Poirot: The Complete Short Stories. Агата Кристи

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      ‘One other thing, madame, can you give me the address of the child’s nurse?’

      ‘149 Netherall Road, Hammersmith. You don’t imagine –’

      ‘Never do I imagine. Only – I employ the little grey cells. And sometimes, just sometimes, I have a little idea.’

      Poirot came back to me as the door closed.

      ‘So madame has never liked the butler. It is interesting, that, eh, Hastings?’

      I refused to be drawn. Poirot has deceived me so often that I now go warily. There is always a catch somewhere.

      After completing an elaborate outdoor toilet, we set off for Netherall Road. We were fortunate enough to find Miss Jessie Withers at home. She was a pleasant-faced woman of thirty-five, capable and superior. I could not believe that she could be mixed up in the affair. She was bitterly resentful of the way she had been dismissed, but admitted that she had been in the wrong. She was engaged to be married to a painter and decorator who happened to be in the neighbourhood, and she had run out to meet him. The thing seemed natural enough. I could not quite understand Poirot. All his questions seemed to me quite irrelevant. They were concerned mainly with the daily routine of her life at Waverly Court. I was frankly bored and glad when Poirot took his departure.

      ‘Kidnapping is an easy job, mon ami,’ he observed, as he hailed a taxi in the Hammersmith Road and ordered it to drive to Waterloo. ‘That child could have been abducted with the greatest ease any day for the last three years.’

      ‘I don’t see that that advances us much,’ I remarked coldly.

      ‘Au contraire, it advances us enormously, but enormously! If you must wear a tie pin, Hastings, at least let it be in the exact centre of your tie. At present it is at least a sixteenth of an inch too much to the right.’

      Waverly Court was a fine old place and had recently been restored with taste and care. Mr Waverly showed us the council chamber, the terrace, and all the various spots connected with the case. Finally, at Poirot’s request, he pressed a spring in the wall, a panel slid aside, and a short passage led us into the priest’s hole.

      ‘You see,’ said Waverly. ‘There is nothing here.’

      The tiny room was bare enough, there was not even the mark of a footstep on the floor. I joined Poirot where he was bending attentively over a mark in the corner.

      ‘What do you make of this, my friend?’

      There were four imprints close together.

      ‘A dog,’ I cried.

      ‘A very small dog, Hastings.’

      ‘A Pom.’

      ‘Smaller than a Pom.’

      ‘A griffon?’ I suggested doubtfully.

      ‘Smaller even than a griffon. A species unknown to the Kennel Club.’

      I looked at him. His face was alight with excitement and satisfaction.

      ‘I was right,’ he murmured. ‘I knew I was right. Come, Hastings.’

      As we stepped out into the hall and the panel closed behind us, a young lady came out of a door farther down the passage. Mr Waverly presented her to us.

      ‘Miss Collins.’

      Miss Collins was about thirty years of age, brisk and alert in manner. She had fair, rather dull hair, and wore pince-nez.

      At Poirot’s request, we passed into a small morning-room, and he questioned her closely as to the servants and particularly as to Tredwell. She admitted that she did not like the butler.

      ‘He gives himself airs,’ she explained.

      They then went into the question of the food eaten by Mrs Waverly on the night of the 28th. Miss Collins declared that she had partaken of the same dishes upstairs in her sitting-room and had felt no ill effects. As she was departing I nudged Poirot.

      ‘The dog,’ I whispered.

      ‘Ah, yes, the dog!’ He smiled broadly. ‘Is there a dog kept here by any chance, mademoiselle?’

      ‘There are two retrievers in the kennels outside.’

      ‘No, I mean a small dog, a toy dog.’

      ‘No – nothing of the kind.’

      Poirot permitted her to depart. Then, pressing the bell, he remarked to me, ‘She lies, that Mademoiselle Collins. Possibly I should, also, in her place. Now for the butler.’

      Tredwell was a dignified individual. He told his story with perfect aplomb, and it was essentially the same as that of Mr Waverly. He admitted that he knew the secret of the priest’s hole.

      When he finally withdrew, pontifical to the last, I met Poirot’s quizzical eyes.

      ‘What do you make of it all, Hastings?’

      ‘What do you?’ I parried.

      ‘How cautious you become. Never, never will the grey cells function unless you stimulate them. Ah, but I will not tease you! Let us make our deductions together. What points strike us specially as being difficult?’

      ‘There is one thing that strikes me,’ I said. ‘Why did the man who kidnapped the child go out by the south lodge instead of by the east lodge where no one would see him?’

      ‘That is a very good point, Hastings, an excellent one. I will match it with another. Why warn the Waverlys beforehand? Why not simply kidnap the child and hold him to ransom?’

      ‘Because they hoped to get the money without being forced to action.’

      ‘Surely it was very unlikely that the money would be paid on a mere threat?’

      ‘Also they wanted to focus attention on twelve o’clock, so that when the tramp man was seized, the other could emerge from his hiding-place and get away with the child unnoticed.’

      ‘That does not alter the fact that they were making a thing difficult that was perfectly easy. If they do not specify a time or date, nothing would be easier than to wait their chance, and carry off the child in a motor one day when he is out with his nurse.’

      ‘Ye – es,’ I admitted doubtfully.

      ‘In fact, there is a deliberate playing of the farce! Now let us approach the question from another side. Everything goes to show that there was an accomplice inside the house. Point number one, the mysterious poisoning of Mrs Waverly. Point number two, the letter pinned to the pillow. Point number three, the putting on of the clock ten minutes – all inside jobs. And an additional fact that you may not have noticed. There was no dust in the priest’s hole. It had been swept out with a broom.

      ‘Now then, we have four people in the house. We can exclude the nurse, since she could not have swept out the priest’s hole, though she could СКАЧАТЬ