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Read Ebook: Poirot Investigates by Christie Agatha
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Ebook has 1524 lines and 48745 words, and 31 pages
very nose!"
"True," said Poirot, rather crestfallen. "It was not one of my most striking triumphs."
This way of describing events almost caused me to smile, but I stuck to my guns.
"So, having--pardon the expression--rather made a mess of things, don't you think it would be more graceful to leave immediately?"
"Oh, what's dinner!" I said impatiently.
Poirot held up his hands in horror.
"There's another reason why we should get back to London as soon as possible," I continued.
"What is that, my friend?"
"The other diamond," I said, lowering my voice. "Miss Marvell's."
"Don't you see?" His unusual obtuseness annoyed me. What had happened to his usually keen wits? "They've got one, now they'll go for the other."
I shook my head dubiously. The full of the moon theory left me entirely cold. I had my way with Poirot, however, and we departed immediately, leaving behind us a note of explanation and apology for Lord Yardly.
In the morning Poirot seemed strangely disinclined to stir out. I began to suspect that, having made a mistake to start with, he was singularly loath to proceed with the case. In answer to my persuasions, he pointed out, with admirable common sense, that as the details of the affair at Yardly Chase were already in the morning papers the Rolfs would know quite as much as we could tell them. I gave way unwillingly.
"What?" I cried, springing up. "And what about the 'full of the moon' now?" Poirot hung his head. "When did this happen?"
"This morning, I understand."
I shook my head sadly. "If only you had listened to me. You see I was right."
"That 'full of the moon' idea was clever. The whole point of it was to get us to concentrate on the Friday, and so be off our guard beforehand. It is a pity you did not realize that."
I felt sorry for him. He did so hate failure of any kind.
"Cheer up," I said consolingly. "Better luck next time."
Rolf nodded to us as we entered.
"We're getting to the bottom of it," he said. "But it's almost unbelievable. How the guy had the nerve I can't think."
A very few minutes sufficed to give us the facts. Mr. Rolf had gone out of the hotel at 11.15. At 11.30, a gentleman, so like him in appearance as to pass muster, entered the hotel and demanded the jewel-case from the safe deposit. He duly signed the receipt, remarking carelessly as he did so: "Looks a bit different from my ordinary one, but I hurt my hand getting out of the taxi." The clerk merely smiled and remarked that he saw very little difference. Rolf laughed and said: "Well, don't run me in as a crook this time, anyway. I've been getting threatening letters from a Chinaman, and the worst of it is I look rather like a Chink myself--it's something about the eyes."
"I looked at him," said the clerk who was telling us this, "and I saw at once what he meant. The eyes slanted up at the corners like an Oriental's. I'd never noticed it before."
"Darn it all, man," roared Gregory Rolf, leaning forward, "do you notice it now?"
The man looked up at him and started.
"No, sir," he said. "I can't say I do." And indeed there was nothing even remotely Oriental about the frank brown eyes that looked into ours.
The Scotland Yard man grunted. "Bold customer. Thought the eyes might be noticed, and took the bull by the horns to disarm suspicion. He must have watched you out of the hotel, sir, and nipped in as soon as you were well away."
"What about the jewel-case?" I asked.
"It was found in a corridor of the hotel. Only one thing had been taken--'the Western Star.'"
We stared at each other--the whole thing was so bizarre, so unreal.
Poirot hopped briskly to his feet. "I have not been of much use, I fear," he said regretfully. "Is it permitted to see Madame?"
"I guess she's prostrated with the shock," explained Rolf.
"Then perhaps I might have a few words alone with you, monsieur?"
"Certainly."
In about five minutes Poirot reappeared.
"Now, my friend," he said gaily. "To a post office. I have to send a telegram."
"Who to?"
It was about four o'clock when we entered Poirot's rooms. A figure rose from a chair by the window. It was Lord Yardly. He looked haggard and distraught.
Poirot held up his hand.
"My excuses! I sent that wire, and hired the gentleman in question."
"My little idea was to bring things to a head," explained Poirot placidly.
"Bring things to a head! Oh, my God!" cried Lord Yardly.
And smiling and talking, the amazing little man conducted the bewildered nobleman to the door. He returned gently rubbing his hands.
"Poirot," I said. "Am I quite demented?"
"How did you get the diamond."
"From Mr. Rolf."
"Rolf?"
"But why should he steal his own diamond?" I asked, puzzled.
"For many reasons. To begin with, Lady Yardly was getting restive."
"Lady Yardly?"
"But we saw the necklace round her neck!" I objected.
"I demand pardon, my friend. Her hand concealed the part of it where the gap would have shown. To place a piece of silk in the door beforehand is child's play! Of course, as soon as Rolf read of the robbery, he arranged his own little comedy. And very well he played it!"
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