Poirot’s Early Cases. Agatha Christie

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СКАЧАТЬ anyway, being unsettled in this way—well, what with it all, I’m tired out!’

      Poirot murmured sympathetically, and we took our leave.

      ‘It’s a curious coincidence,’ I said, ‘but that absconding clerk, Davis, was from the same bank as Simpson. Can there be any connection, do you think?’

      Poirot smiled.

      ‘At the one end, a defaulting clerk, at the other a vanishing cook. It is hard to see any relation between the two, unless possibly Davis visited Simpson, fell in love with the cook, and persuaded her to accompany him on his flight!’

      I laughed. But Poirot remained grave.

      ‘He might have done worse,’ he said reprovingly. ‘Remember, Hastings, if you are going into exile, a good cook may be of more comfort than a pretty face!’ He paused for a moment and then went on. ‘It is a curious case, full of contradictory features. I am interested—yes, I am distinctly interested.’

      II

      That evening we returned to 88 Prince Albert Road and interviewed both Todd and Simpson. The former was a melancholy lantern-jawed man of forty-odd.

      ‘Oh! Yes, yes,’ he said vaguely. ‘Eliza. Yes. A good cook, I believe. And economical. I make a strong point of economy.’

      ‘Can you imagine any reason for her leaving you so suddenly?’

      ‘Oh, well,’ said Mr Todd vaguely. ‘Servants, you know. My wife worries too much. Worn out from always worrying. The whole problem’s quite simple really. “Get another, my dear,” I say. “Get another.” That’s all there is to it. No good crying over spilt milk.’

      Mr Simpson was equally unhelpful. He was a quiet inconspicuous young man with spectacles.

      ‘I must have seen her, I suppose,’ he said. ‘Elderly woman, wasn’t she? Of course, it’s the other one I see always, Annie. Nice girl. Very obliging.’

      ‘Were those two on good terms with each other?’

      Mr Simpson said he couldn’t say, he was sure. He supposed so.

      ‘Well, we get nothing of interest there, mon ami,’ said Poirot as we left the house. Our departure had been delayed by a burst of vociferous repetition from Mrs Todd, who repeated everything she had said that morning at rather greater length.

      ‘Are you disappointed?’ I asked. ‘Did you expect to hear something?’

      Poirot shook his head.

      ‘There was a possibility, of course,’ he said. ‘But I hardly thought it likely.’

      The next development was a letter which Poirot received on the following morning. He read it, turned purple with indignation, and handed it to me.

      Mrs Todd regrets that after all she will not avail herself of Mr Poirot’s services. After talking the matter over with her husband she sees that it is foolish to call in a detective about a purely domestic affair. Mrs Todd encloses a guinea for consultation fee.

      III

      ‘Aha!’ cried Poirot angrily. ‘And they think to get rid of Hercule Poirot like that! As a favour—a great favour—I consent to investigate their miserable little twopenny-halfpenny affair—and they dismiss me comme ça! Here, I mistake not, is the hand of Mr Todd. But I say no!—thirty-six times no! I will spend my own guineas, thirty-six hundred of them if need be, but I will get to the bottom of this matter!’

      ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But how?’

      Poirot calmed down a little.

      ‘D’abord,’ he said, ‘we will advertise in the papers. Let me see—yes—something like this: “If Eliza Dunn will communicate with this address, she will hear of something to her advantage.” Put it in all the papers you can think of, Hastings. Then I will make some little inquiries of my own. Go, go—all must be done as quickly as possible!’

      I did not see him again until the evening, when he condescended to tell me what he had been doing.

      ‘I have made inquiries at the firm of Mr Todd. He was not absent on Wednesday, and he bears a good character—so much for him. Then Simpson, on Thursday he was ill and did not come to the bank, but he was there on Wednesday. He was moderately friendly with Davis. Nothing out of the common. There does not seem to be anything there. No. We must place our reliance on the advertisement.’

      The advertisement duly appeared in all the principal daily papers. By Poirot’s orders it was to be continued every day for a week. His eagerness over this uninteresting matter of a defaulting cook was extraordinary, but I realized that he considered it a point of honour to persevere until he finally succeeded. Several extremely interesting cases were brought to him about this time, but he declined them all. Every morning he would rush at his letters, scrutinize them earnestly and then lay them down with a sigh.

      But our patience was rewarded at last. On the Wednesday following Mrs Todd’s visit, our landlady informed us that a person of the name of Eliza Dunn had called.

      ‘Enfin!’ cried Poirot. ‘But make her mount then! At once. Immediately.’

      Thus admonished, our landlady hurried out and returned a moment or two later, ushering in Miss Dunn. Our quarry was much as described: tall, stout, and eminently respectable.

      ‘I came in answer to the advertisement,’ she explained. ‘I thought there must be some muddle or other, and that perhaps you didn’t know I’d already got my legacy.’

      Poirot was studying her attentively. He drew forward a chair with a flourish.

      ‘The truth of the matter is,’ he explained, ‘that your late mistress, Mrs Todd, was much concerned about you. She feared some accident might have befallen you.’

      Eliza Dunn seemed very much surprised.

      ‘Didn’t she get my letter then?’

      ‘She got no word of any kind.’ He paused, and then said persuasively: ‘Recount to me the whole story, will you not?’

      Eliza Dunn needed no encouragement. She plunged at once into a lengthy narrative.

      ‘I was just coming home on Wednesday night and had nearly got to the house, when a gentleman stopped me. A tall gentleman he was, with a beard and a big hat. “Miss Eliza Dunn?” he said. “Yes,” I said. “I’ve been inquiring for you at No. 88,” he said. “They told me I might meet you coming along here. Miss Dunn, I have come from Australia specially to find you. Do you happen to know the maiden name of your maternal grandmother?” “Jane Emmott,” I said. “Exactly,” he said. “Now, Miss Dunn, although you may never have heard of the fact, your grandmother had a great friend, Eliza Leech. This friend went to Australia where she married a very wealthy settler. Her two children died in infancy, and she inherited all her husband’s property. She died a few months ago, and by her will you inherit a house in this country and a considerable sum of money.”

      ‘You could have knocked me down СКАЧАТЬ