Hercule Poirot's Early Cases Part 9

When I go to him with my fears, he just says it's the curse, and we can't escape it. But I'm from the States, M. Poirot, and over there we don't believe much in curses. We like them as belonging to a real high-toned old family - it gives a sort of cachet, don't you know. I was just a musical comedy actress in a small part when Hugo met me - and I thought his family curse was just too lovely for words. That kind of thing's all right for telling round the fire on a winter's evening, but when it comes to one's own children I just adore my children, M. Poirot. I'd do anything for them.' 'So you decline to believe in the family legend, madame?' 'Can a legend saw through an ivy stem?' 'What is that you are saying, madame?' cried Poirot, an expression of great astonishment on his face.

'I said, can a legend - or a ghost, if you like to call it that - saw through an ivy stem? I'm not saying anything about Cornwall.

Any boy might go out too far and get into difficulties - though Ronald could swim when he was four years old. But the ivy's different. Both the boys were very naughty. They'd discovered they could climb up and down by the ivy. They were always doing it. One day - Gerald was away at the time - Ronald did it once too often, and the ivy gave way and he fell. Fortunately he didn't damage himself seriously. But I went out and examined the ivy: it was cut through, M. Poirot - deliberately cut through.' 'It is very serious what you are telling me there, madame. Yo say your younger boy was away from home at the moment?' 'Yes.'

'And at the time of the ptomaine poisoning, was he still away?' 'No, they were both there.'

'Curious,' murmured Poirot. 'Now, madame, who are the inmates of your establishment?'

'Miss Saunders, the children's governess, and John Gardiner, my husband's secretary - '

Mrs Lemesurier paused, as though slightly embarra.s.sed.

'And who else, madame?'

'Major Roger Lemesurier, whom you also met on that night, I believe, stays with us a good deal.'

'Ah, yes - he is a cousin, is he not?'

'A distant cousin. He does not belong to our branch of the family. Still, I suppose now he is my husband's nearest relative.

He is a dear fellow, and we are all very fond of him. The boys are devoted to him.'

'It was not he who taught them to climb up the ivy?'

'It might have been. He incites them to mischief often enough.' 'Madame, I apologize for what I said to you earlier. The danger is real, and I believe that I can be of a.s.sistance. I propose that you should invite us both to stay with you. Your husband will not object?'

'Oh no. But he will believe it to be all of no use. It makes me furious the way he just sits around and expects the boy to die.'

'Calm yourself, madame. Let us make our arrangements methodically.'

Our arrangements were duly made, and the following day saw us flying northward. Poirot was sunk in a reverie. He came out of it, to remark abruptly: 'It was from a train such as this that Vincent Lemesurier fell?'

He put a slight accent on the 'fell'.

'You don't suspect foul play there, surely?' I asked.

'Has it struck you, Hastings, that some of the Lemesurier deaths were, shall we say, capable of being arranged? Take that of Vincent, for instance. Then the Eton boy - an accident with a gun is always ambiguous. Supposing this child had fallen from the nursery window and been dashed to death - what more natural and unsuspicious? But why only the one child, Hastings? Who profits by the death of the elder child? His younger brother, a child of sevenl Absurdl' 'They mean to do away with the other later,' I suggested, though with the vaguest ideas as to who 'they' were.

Poirot shook his head as though dissatisfied.

'Ptomaine poisoning,' he mused. 'Atropine will produce much the same symptoms. Yes, there is need for our presence.' Mrs Lemesurier welcomed us enthusiastically. Then she took us to her husband's study and left us with him. He had changed a good deal since I saw him last. His shoulders stooped more than ever, and his face had a curious pale grey tinge. He listened while Poirot explained our presence in the house.

'How exactly like Sadie's practical common sensei' he said at last. 'Remain by all means, M. Poirot, and I thank you for coming; but - what is written, is written. The way of the transgressor is hard. We Lemesuriers/enow - none of us can escape the doom.' Poirot mentioned the sawn-through ivy, but Hugo seemed very little impressed.

'Doubtless some careless gardener - yes, yes, there may be an instrument, but the purpose behind is plain; and I will tell you this, M. Poirot, it cannot be long delayed.' Poirot looked at him attentively.

'Why do you say that?' 'Because I myself am doomed. I went to a doctor last year. I am suffering from an incurable disease - the end cannot be much longer delayed; but before I die, Ronald will be taken. Gerald ill inherit.' 'And if'anything were to happen to your second son also?' 'Nothing will happen to him; he is not threatened.' 'But if it did?' persisted Poirot.

'My cousin Roger is the next heir.' We were interrupted. A tall man with a good figure and crisply curling auburn hair entered with a sheaf of paper.

'Never mind about those now, Gardiner,' said Hugo Lemesuder; then he added: 'My secretary, Mr Gardiner.' The secretary bowed, uttered a few pleasant words and then went out. In spite of his good looks, there was something repellent about the man. I said so to Poirot shortly afterwards when we were walking round the beautiful old grounds together, and rather to my surprise, he agreed.

'Yes, yes, Hastings, you are right. I do not like him. He is too good-looking. He would be one for the soft job always. Ah, here are the children.' Mrs Lemesurier was advancing towards us, her two children beside her. They were fine-looking boys, the younger dark like his mother, the elder with auburn curls. They shook hands prettily enough, and were soon absolutely devoted to Poirot. We were next introduced to Miss Saunders, a nondescript female, who completed the party.

For some days we had a pleasant, easy existence - ever vigilant, but without result. The boys led a happy normal life and nothing seemed to be amiss. On the fourth day after our arrival Major Roger Lemesurier came down to stay. He was little changed, still care-free and debonair as of old, with the same habit of treating all things lightly. He was evidently a great favourite with the boys, who greeted his arrival with shrieks of delight and immediately dragged him off to play wild Indians in the garden. I noticed that Poirot followed them un.o.btrusively.

On the following day we were all invited to tea, boys included, with Lady Claygate, whose place adjoined that of the Lemesuriers.

Mrs Lemesurier suggested that we also should come, but seemed rather relieved when Poirot refused and declared he would much prefer to remain at home.

Once everyone had started, Poirot got to work. He reminded me of an intelligent terrier. I believe that there was no corner of the house that he left unsearched; yet it was all done so quietly and methodically that no attention was directed to his movements.

Clearly, at the end, he remained unsatisfied. We had tea on the terrace with Mis Sannders, who had not been included in the party.

'The boys will enjoy it,' she murmured in her faded way, 'though I hope they will behave nicely, and not damage the flower-beds, or go near the bees -' Poirot paused in the very act of drinking. He looked like a man who has seen a ghost.

'Bees?' he demanded in a voice of thunder.

'Yes, ]VI. Poirot, bees. Three hives. Lady Claygate is very proud of her bees ' 'Bees?' cried Poirot again. Then he sprang from the table and walked up and down the terrace with his hands to his head. I could not imagine why the little man should be so agitated at the mere mention of bees.

At that moment we heard the car returning. Poirot was on the doorstep a the party alighted.

'Ronaid's been stung,' cried Gerald excitedly.

'It's nothing,' said Mrs Lemesuricr. '!t hasn't even swollen.

We put ammonia on it.' 'Let me see, my little man,' said Poirot. 'Where wa it?' 'Here, on the side of my neck,' said Ronald importantly. 'But it doesn't hurt. Father said: "Keep still - there's a bee on you." And I kept still, and he took it off, but it stung me first, though it didn't really hurt, only like a pin, and I didn't cry, because I'm so big and going to school next year.' Poirot examined the child's neck, then drew away again. He took me by the arm and murmured: 'Tonight, moa ami, tonight we have a little affair onl Say nothing - to anyone.' He refused to be more communicative, and I went through the evening devoured by curiosity. He retired early and I followed his example. As we went upstairs, he caught me by the arm and delivered his instructions: 'Do not undress. Wait a sufficient time, extinguish your light and join me here.' I obeyed, and found him waiting for me when the time came.

He enjoined silence on me with a gesture, and we crept quietly along the nursery wing. Ronald occupied a small room of his own. We entered it and took up our position in the darkest corner. The child's breathing sounded heavy and undisturbed.

'Surely he is sleeping very heavily?' I whispered.

Poirot nodded.

'Drugged,' he murmured.

'Why?' 'So that he should not cry out at - ' 'At what?' I asked, as Poirot paused.

'At the p.r.i.c.k of the hypodermic needle, mon ami! Hush, let us speak no more - not that I expect anything to happen for some time.'

But in this Poirot was wrong. Hardly ten minutes had elapsed before the door opened softly, and someone entered the room. I heard a sound of quick hurried breathing. Footsteps moved to the bed, and then there was a sudden click. The light of a little electric lantern fell on the sleeping child - the holder of it was still invisible in the shadow. The figure laid down the lantern. With the right hand it brought forth a syringe; with the left it touched the boy's neck - Poirot and I sprang at the same minute. The lantern rolled to the floor, and we struggled with the intruder in the dark. His strength was extraordinary. At last we overcame him.

'The light, Hastings, I must see his face - though I fear I know only too well whose face it will be.' So did I, I thought as I groped for the lantern. For a moment I had suspected the secretary, egged on by my secret dislike of the man, but I felt a.s.sured by now that the man who stood to gain by the death of his two childish cousins was the monster we were tracking.

My foot struck against the lantern. I picked it up and switched on the light. It shone full on the face of- Hugo Lemesurier, the boy's fatherl The lantern almost dropped from my hand.

'Impossible,' I murmured hoa.r.s.ely. 'Impossiblel'

Lemesurier was unconscious. Poirot nd I between us carried hi to his room and laid him on the Ied. Poirot bent and gentl extricated something from his right Band. He showed it to me. was a hypodermic syringe. I shuddefed.

'What is in it? Poison?' 'Formic acid, I fancy.' 'Formic acid?' 'Yes. Probably obtained by distilling ants. He was a chemis you remember. Death would have been attributed to the bee sting 'My G.o.d,' I muttered. 'His own soul And you expected thisi Poirot nodded gravely.

'Yes. He is insane, of course. I iraagine that the family histor has become a mania with him. His itatense longing to succeed the estate led him to commit the loOg series of crimes. Possibl the idea occurred to him first wheo travelling north that nlgl with Vincent. He couldn't bear the prediction to be falsifie Ronald's son was already dead, and Ronald himself was a dyin man - they are a weakly lot. He arrataged the accident to the gut and - which I did not suspect until fow - contrived the death his brother John by this same meod of injecting formic aci. into the jugular vein. His ambitiota was realized then, and h became the master of the family acreS. But his triumph was short lived - he found that he was sufferifg from an incurable diseas And he had the madman's fixed idea -' the eldest son of a Lemesur ier could not inherit. I suspect that the bathing accident was du to him - he encouraged the child to go out too far. That failing he sawed through the ivy, and afterwards poisoned the child' food.' 'Diabolical!' I murmured with shiver. 'And so cleverl planned!' 'Yes, raon ami, there is nothing mre amazing than the extrg ordinary sanity of the insane! UnleSS it is the extraordinar eccentricity of the sanel I imagine that it is only lately daat he ha completely gone over the borderline, there was method in hi madness to begin with.'

'And to think that I suspected Roger - that splendid fellow.' 'It was the natural a.s.sumption, mon ami. We knew that he also travelled north with Vincent that night. We knew, too, that he was the next heir after Hugo and Hugo's children. But our a.s.sumption was not borne out by the facts. The ivy was sawn through when only little Ronald was at home - but it would be to Roger's interest that both children should perish. In the same way, it was only Ronald's food that was poisoned. And today when they came home and I found that there was only his father's word for it that Ronald had been stung, I remembered the other death from a wasp sting - and I knewl'

Hugo Lemesurier died a few months later in the private asylum to which he was removed. His widow was remarried a year later to Mr John Gardiner, the auburn-haired secretary. Ronald inherited the broad acres' of his father, and continues to flourish.

'Well, well,' I remarked to Poirot. 'Another illusion gone. You have disposed very successfully of the curse of the Lemesuriers.' 'I wonder,' said Poirot very thoughtfully. 'I wonder very much indeed.' 'What do you mean?' 'Mon am/, I will answer you with one significant word - redl' 'Blood?' I queried, dropping my voice to an awestricken whisper.

'Always you have the imagination melodramatic, Hastingsl I refer to something much more prosaic - the colour of little Ronald Lemesurier's hair.'

CHAPTER VIII

THE LOST MINE.

I laid down my bank book with a sigh.

'It is a curious thing,' I observed, 'but my overdraft never seems to grow any less.'

'And it perturbs you not? Me, if I had an overdraft, never should I close my eyes all night,' declared Poirot.

'You deal in comfortable balances, I suppose!' I retorted.

'Four hundred and forty-four pounds, four and fourpence,' said Poirot with some complacency. 'A neat figure, is it not?'

'It must be tact on the part of your bank manager. He is evidently acquainted with your pa.s.sion for symmetrical details. What about investing, say three hundred of it, in the Porcupine oil-fields?

Their prospectus, which is advertised in the papers today, saya that they will pay one hundred per cent in dividends next year.'

'Not for me,' said Poirot, shaking his head. 'I like not the sensational. For me the safe, the prudent investment - les rentes, the consols, the - how do you call it? - the conversion.'

'Have you never made a speculative investment?'

'No, mon ami,' replied Poirot severely. 'I have not. And the only' shares I own which have not what you call the gilded edge are fourteen thousand shares in the Burma Mines Ltd.'

Poirot paused with an air of waiting to be encouraged to go on.

'Yes?' I prompted.

'And for them I paid no cash - no, they were the reward of the exercise of my little grey cells. You would like to hear the story?

Yes?'

'Of course I would.'

'These mines are situated in the interior, of Burma about two hundred miles inland from Rangoon. They were discovered by the Chinese in the fifteenth century and worked down to the time of the Mohammedan Rebellion, being finally abandoned i the year x868. The Chinese extracted the rich lead-silver ore from the upper part of the ore body, smelting it for the silver alone, and leaving large quant.i.ties of rich lead-bearing slag. This, of course, was soon discovered whdn prospecting work was carried out in Burma, but owing to the fact that the old workings had become full of loose filling and water, all attempts to find the source of the ore proved fruitless. Many parties were sent out by syndicates, and they dug over a large area, but this rich prize still eluded them. But a representative of one of the syndicates got on the track of a Chinese family who were supposed to have still kept a record of the situation of the mine. The present head of the family was one Wu Ling.'

'What a fascinating page of commercial romance? I exclaimed.

'Is it not? Ah, mon ami, one can have romance without golden-haired girls of matchless beauty - no, I am wrong; it is auburn hair that so excites you always. You remember - '

'Go on with the story,' I said hastily.

'Eh bien, my friend, this Wu Ling was approached. He was an estimable merchant, much respected in the province where he lived. He admitted at once that he owned the doc.u.ments in question, and was perfectly prepared to negotiate for this sale, but he objected to dealing with anyone other than princ.i.p.als.

Finally it was arranged that he should journey to England and meet the directors of an important company.

'Wu Ling made the journey to England in the S.S. Issunta, and the tssunta docked at Southampton on a cold, foggy morning in November. One of the directors, Mr Pearson, went down to Southampton to meet the boat, but owing to the fog, the train down was very much delayed, and by the time he arrived, Wu Ling had disembarked and left by special train for London.

Mr Pearson returned to town somewhat annoyed, as he had no idea where the Chinaman proposed to stay. Later in the day, however, the offices of the company were rung up on the telephone.

Wu Ling was staying at the Russell Square Hotel. He was feeling somewhat unwell after the voyage, but declared himself perfectly able to attend the board meeting on the following day.

'The meeting of the board took place at eleven o'clock. When half past eleven came, and Wu Ling had not put in an appearance, the secretary rang up the Russell Hotel. In answer to his inquiries, he was told that the Chinaman had gone out with a friend about half past ten. It seemed clear that he had started out with the intention of coming to the meeting, but the morning wore away, and he did not appear. It was, of course, possible that he had lost his way, being unacquainted with London, but at a late hour that night he had not returned to the hotel. Thoroughly alarmed now, Mr Pearson put matters in the hands of the police. On the following day, there was still no trace of the missing man, but towards evening of the day after that again, a body was found in the Thames which proved to be that of the ill-fated Chinaman.

Neither on the body, nor in the luggage at the hotel, was there shy trace of the papers relating to the mine.

'At this juncture, mon am/, I was brought into the affair.

Mr Pearson called upon me. While profoundly shocked by the death of Wu Ling, his chief anxiety was to recover the papers which were the object of the Chinaman's visit to England. The main anxiety of the police, of course, would be to track down the murderer - the recovery of the papers would be a secondary consideration. What he wanted me to do was to co-operate with the police while acting min the interests of the company.

'I consented readily enough. It was clear that there were two fields of search open to me. On the one hand, I might look among the employees of the company who knew of the Chinaman's coming; on the other, among the pa.s.sengers on the boat who might have been acquainted with his mission. I started with the second, as being a narrower field of search. In this I coincided with Inspector Miller, who was in charge of the case - a man altogether different from our friend j.a.pp, conceited, ill-mannered and quite insufferable. Together we interviewed the officers of the ship. They had little to tell us. Wu Ling had kept much to himself on the voyage. He had been intimate with but two of the other pa.s.sengers - one a broken-down European named Dyer who appeared to bear a somewhat unsavoury reputation, the other a young bank clerk named Charles Lester, who was returning from Hong Kong. We were lucky enough to obtain snapshots of both these men. At the moment there seemed little doubt that if either of the two was implicated, Dyer was the man. He was known to be mixed up with a gang of Chinese crooks, and was altogether a most likely suspect.

'Our next step was to visit the Russell Square Hotel. Shown a snapshot of Wu Ling, they recognized him at once. We then showed them the snapshot of Dyer, but to our disappointment, the hall porter declared positively that that was not the man who had come to the hotel on the fatal morning. Almost as an afterthought, I produced the photograph, of Lester, and to my surprise the man at once recognized it.

' "Yes, sir," he a.s.serted, "that's the gentleman who came in at half past ten and asked for Mr Wu Ling, and afterwards went out with him."

'The affair was progressing. Our next move was to interview Mr Charles Lester. He met us with the utmost frankness, was desolated to hear of the Chinaman's untimely death, and put himself at our disposal in every way. His story was as follows: By arrangement with Wu Ling, he called for him at the hotel at ten-thirty. Wu Ling, however, did not appear. Instead, his servant came, explained that his master had had to go out, and offered to conduct the young man to where his master now was. Suspecting nothing, Lester agreed, and the Chinaman procured a taxi. They drove for some time in the direction of the docks. Suddenly becoming mistrustful, Lester stopped the taxi and got out, dis-regarding the servant's protests. That, he a.s.sured us, was all he knew.

'Apparently satisfied, we thanked him and took our leave. His story was soon proved to be a somewhat inaccurate one. To begin with, Wu Ling had had no servant with him, either on the boat or at the hotel. In the second place, the taxi-driver who had driven the two men on that morning came forward. Far from Lester's having left the taxi en route, he and the Chinese gentleman had driven to a certain unsavoury dwelling-place in Limehouse, right in the heart of Chinatown. The place in question was more or less well known as an opium-den of the lowest description. The two gentlemen had gone in - about an hour later the English gentleman, whom he identified from the photograph, came out alone. He looked very pale and ill, and directed the taxi-man to take him to the nearest underground station.

'Inquiries were made about Charles Lester's standing, and it was found that, though bearing an excellent character, he wa heavily in debt, and had a secret pa.s.sion for gambling. Dyer, of course, was not lost sight of. It seemed just faintly possible that he might have impersonated the other man, but that idea was proved utterly groundless. His alibi for the whole of the day in question was absolutely unimpeachable. Of course, the proprietor of the opium-den denied everything with Oriental stolidity. He had never seen Wu Ling; he had never seen Charles Lester. No two gentlemen had been to the place that morning. In any case, the police were wrong: no opium was ever smoked there.

'His denials, however well meant, did little to help Charle Lester. He was arrested for the murder of Wu Ling. A search of his effects was made, but no papers relating to the mine were discovered. The proprietor of the opium-den was also taken into custody, but a cursory raid of his premises yielded nothing. Not even a stick of opium rewarded the zeal of the police.

'In the meantime my friend Mr Pearson was in a great state of agitation. He strode up and down my room, uttering great lamentations.

' "But you must have some ideas, M. Poirotl" he kept urging.