One, Two, Buckle My Shoe Part 9

Poirot said: 'Amberiotis might have been killed in some other way.'

'Not he. n.o.body came to see him at the Savoy. He lunched up in his room. And the doctors say the stuff was definitely injected, not taken by mouth-it wasn't in the stomach. So there you are. It's a clear case.'

'That is what we are meant to think.'

'The A.C. is satisfied anyway.'

'And he is satisfied with the disappearing lady?'

'The Case of the Vanishing Seal? No, I can tell you, we're still working on that. That woman's got to be somewhere. You just can't walk out into the street and disappear.'

'She seems to have done so.'

'For the moment. But she must be somewhere, alive or dead, and I don't think she is dead.'

'Why not?'

'Because we'd have found her body by now.'

'Oh, my j.a.pp, do bodies always come to light so soon?'

'I suppose you're hinting thatshe's been murdered now and that we'll find her in a quarry, cut up in little pieces like Mrs Ruxton?'

'After all,mon ami , youdo have missing persons who are not found.'

'Very seldom, old boy. Lots of women disappear, yes, but we usually find 'em, all right. Nine times out of ten it's a case of good old s.e.x. They're somewhere with a man. But I don't think it could be that with our Mabelle, do you?'

'One never knows,' said Poirot cautiously. 'But I do not think it likely. So you are sure of finding her?'

'We'll find her all right. We're publishing a description of her to the Press and we're roping in the B.B.C.'

'Ah,' said Poirot, 'I fancy that may bring developments.'

'Don't worry, old boy. We'll find your missing beauty for you-woollen underwear and all.'

He rang off.

George entered the room with his usual noiseless tread. He set down on a little table a steaming pot of chocolate and some sugar biscuits.

'Will there be anything else, sir?'

'I am in great perplexity of mind, Georges.'

'Indeed, sir? I am sorry to hear it.'

Hercule Poirot poured himself out some chocolate and stirred his cup thoughtfully. George stood deferentially waiting, recognizing the signs. There were moments when Hercule Poirot discussed his cases with his valet. He always said that he found George's comments singularly helpful.

'You are aware, no doubt, Georges, of the death of my dentist?'

'Mr Morley, sir? Yes, sir. Very distressing, sir. He shot himself, I understand.'

'That is the general understanding. If he did not shoot himself, he was murdered.'

'Yes, sir.'

'The question is, if he was murdered, who murdered him?'

'Quite so, sir.'

'There are only a certain number of people, Georges, whocould have murdered him. That is to say the people who were actually in, orcould have been in , the house at the time.'

'Quite so, sir.'

'Those people are: a cook and housemaid, amiable domestics and highly unlikely to do anything of the kind. A devoted sister, also highly unlikely, but who does inherit her brother's money such as it was-and one can never entirely neglect the financial aspect. An able and efficient partner-no motive known. A somewhat bone-headed page-boy addicted to cheap crime stories. And lastly, a Greek gentleman of somewhat doubtful antecedents.'

George coughed.

'These foreigners, sir-'

'Exactly. I agree perfectly. The Greek gentleman is decidedly indicated. But you see, Georges, the Greek gentleman also died and apparently it was Mr Morley who killed him-whether by intention or as the result of an unfortunate error we cannot be sure.'

'It might be, sir, that they killed each other. I mean, sir, each gentleman had formed the idea of doing the other gentleman in, though of course each gentleman was unaware of the other gentleman's intention.'

Hercule Poirot purred approvingly.

'Very ingenious, Georges. The dentist murders the unfortunate gentleman who sits in the chair, not realizing that the said victim is at that moment meditating exactly at what moment to whip out his pistol. It could, of course, be so but it seems to me, Georges, extremely unlikely. And we have not come to the end of our list yet. There are still two other people who might possibly have been in the house at the given moment. Every patient, before Mr Amberiotis, was actually seen to leave the house with the exception of one-a young American gentleman. He left the waiting-room at about twenty minutes to twelve, but no one actually saw him leave the house. We must therefore count him as a possibility. The other possibility is a certain Mr Frank Carter (nota patient) who came to the house at a little after twelve with the intention of seeing Mr Morley. n.o.body sawhim leave, either. Those, my good Georges, are the facts; what do you think of them?'

'At what time was the murder committed, sir?'

'If the murder was committed by Mr Amberiotis, it was committed at any time between twelve and five-and-twenty past. If by somebody else, it was committedafter twenty-five minutes past twelve, as otherwise Mr Amberiotis would have noticed the corpse.'

He looked encouragingly at George.

'Now, my good Georges, what have you to say about the matter?'

George pondered. He said: 'It strikes me, sir-'

'Yes, Georges?'

'You will have to find another dentist to attend to your teeth in future, sir.'

Hercule Poirot said: 'You surpa.s.s yourself, Georges. That aspect of the matter had not as yet occurred to me!'

Looking gratified, George left the room.

Hercule Poirot remained sipping his chocolate and going over the facts he had just outlined. He felt satisfied that they were as he had stated them. Within that circle of persons was the hand that had actually done the deed-no matter whose the inspiration had been.

Then his eyebrows shot up as he realized that the list was incomplete. He had left out one name. And no one must be left out-not even the most unlikely person.

There had been one other person in the house at the time of the murder. He wrote down: 'MrBarnes .'

X.

George announced: 'A lady to speak to you on the telephone, sir.'

A week ago, Poirot had guessed wrongly the ident.i.ty of a visitor. This time his guess was right. He recognized her voice at once.

'M. Hercule Poirot?'

'Speaking.'

'This is Jane Olivera-Mr Alistair Blunt's niece.'

'Yes, Miss Olivera.'

'Could you come to the Gothic House, please? There is something I feel you ought to know.'

'Certainly. What time would be convenient?'

'At six-thirty, please.'

'I will be there.'

For a moment the autocratic note wavered: 'I-I hope I am not interrupting your work?'

'Not at all. I was expecting you to call me.'

He put down the receiver quickly. He moved away from it smiling. He wondered what excuse Jane Olivera had found for summoning him.

On arrival at the Gothic House he was shown straight into the big library overlooking the river. Alistair Blunt was sitting at the writing-table playing absent-mindedly with a paper-knife. He had the slightly hara.s.sed look of a man whose womenfolk have been too much for him. Jane Olivera was standing by the mantelpiece. A plump middle-aged woman was speaking fretfully as Poirot entered-'and I really thinkmy feelings should be considered in the matter, Alistair.'

'Yes, Julia, of course, of course.'

Alistair Blunt spoke soothingly as he rose to greet Poirot.

'And if you're going to talk horrors I shall leave the room,' added the good lady.

'I should, mother,' said Jane Olivera.

Mrs Olivera swept from the room without condescending to take any notice of Poirot. Alistair Blunt said: 'It's very good of you to come, M. Poirot. You've met Miss Olivera, I think? It was she who sent for you-'

Jane said abruptly: 'It's about this missing woman that the papers are full of. Miss Something Seale.'

'Sainsbury Seale? Yes?'

Jane turned once more to Poirot.

'It's such a pompous name, that's why I remember. Shall I tell him, or will you, Uncle Alistair?'

'My dear, it's your story.'

Jane turned once more to Poirot.

'It mayn't be important in the least-but I thought you ought to know.'

'Yes?'

'It was the last time Uncle Alistair went to the dentist's-I don't mean the other day-I mean about three months ago. I went with him to Queen Charlotte Street in the Rolls and it was to take me on to some friends in Regent's Park and come back for him. We stopped at 58, and Uncle got out, and just as he did, a woman came out of 58-a middle-aged woman with fussy hair and rather arty clothes. She made a bee-line for Uncle and said (Jane Olivera's voice rose to an affected squeak): "Oh, Mr Blunt, you don't rememberme , I'msure !" Well, of course, I could see by Uncle's face that hedidn't remember her in the slightest-'

Alistair Blunt sighed.

'I never do. People are always saying it-'

'He put on his special face,' went on Jane. 'I know it well. Kind of polite and make-believe. It wouldn't deceive a baby. He said in a most unconvincing voice: "Oh-er-of course." The terrible woman went on: "I was agreat friend of your wife's, you know!"'

'They usually say that, too,' said Alistair Blunt in a voice of even deeper gloom. He smiled rather ruefully.

'It always ends the same way! A subscription to something or other. I got off this time with five pounds to a Zenana Mission or something. Cheap!'

'Had she really known your wife?'

'Well, her being interested in Zenana Missions made me think that, if so, it would have been in India. We were there about ten yours ago. But, of course, she couldn't have been a great friend or I'd have known about it. Probably met her once at a reception.'

Jane Olivera said: 'I don't believe she'd ever met Aunt Rebecca at all. I think it was just an excuse to speak to you.'

Alistair Blunt said tolerantly: 'Well, that's quite possible.'

Jane said: 'I mean, I think it'squeer the way she tried to sc.r.a.pe an acquaintance with you, Uncle.'

Alistair Blunt said with the same tolerance: 'She did not try to follow it up in any way?'

Blunt shook his head.

'I never thought of her again. I'd even forgotten her name till Jane spotted it in the paper.'

Jane said a little unconvincingly: 'Well,I thought M. Poirot ought to be told!'

Poirot said politely: 'Thank you, Mademoiselle.'

He added: 'I must not keep you, Mr Blunt. You are a busy man.'

Jane said quickly: 'I'll come down with you.'

Under his moustaches, Hercule Poirot smiled to himself.

On the ground floor, Jane paused abruptly. She said: 'Come in here.'

They went into a small room off the hall.