Poirot's Early Cases - Christie Agatha (книги txt) 📗

'There was moonlight last night. I wonder that you did not see Mademoiselle Saintclair from your seat here facing the windows?'

'I suppose we were engrossed with our game. Nothing like this has ever happened before to us.'

'I can quite believe that, madame. And I will put your mind at rest. Mademoiselle Saintclair is leaving tomorrow.'

'Oh!' The good lady's face cleared.

'And I will wish you good morning, madame.'

A servant was cleaning the steps as we went out of the front door. Poirot addressed her.

'Was it you who cleaned the shoes of the young lady upstairs?'

The maid shook her head. 'No, sir. I don't think they've been cleaned.'

'Who cleaned them, then?' I inquired of Poirot, as we walked down the road.

'Nobody. They did not need cleaning.'

'I grant that walking on the road or path on a fine night would not soil them. But surely after going through the long grass of the garden, they would have been soiled and stained.'

'Yes,' said Poirot with a curi(us smile. 'In that case, I agree, they would have been stained.'

'But - '

'Have patience a little half-hour, my friend. We are going back to Mon Dsir.'

The butler looked surprised at our reappearance, but offered no objection to our returning to the library.

'Hi, that's the wrong window, Poirot,' I cried as he made for the one overlooking the carriage-drive.

'I think not, my friend. See here.' He pointed to the marble lion's head. On it was a faint discoloured smear. He shifted his finger and pointed to a similar stain on the polished floor.

'Some one struck Reedburn a blow with his clenched fist between the eyes. He fell backward on this projecting bit of marble, then slipped to the floor. Afterwards, he was dragged across the floor to the other window, and laid there instead, but not quite at the same angle, as the Doctor's evidence told us.'

'But why? It seems utterly unnecessary.' 'On the contrary, it was essential. Also, it is the key to the murderer's identity - though, by the way, he had no intention of killing Reedburn, and so it is hardly permissible to call him a murderer. He must be a very strong manl' 'Because of having dragged the body across the floor?' 'Not altogether. It has been an interesting case. I nearly made an imbecile of myself, though.' 'Do you mean to say it is over, that you know everything?' 'Yes.' A remembrance smote me. 'No,' I cried. 'There is one thing you do not know!' 'And that?' 'You do not know where the missing king of clubs isl' 'Eh? Oh, that is droll! That is very droll, my friend.' 'Why?' 'Because it is in my pocketl' He drew it forth with a flourish.

'Ohl' I said, rather crestfallen. 'Where did you find it?

Here?' 'There was nothing sensational about it. It had simply not been taken out with the other cards. It was in the box.' 'H'm All the same, it gave you an idea, didn't it?' 'Yes, my friend. I present my respects to His Majesty.' 'And to Madame Zaral' 'Ah, yes - to the lady also.' 'Well, what are we going to do now?' 'We are going to return to town. But I must have a few words with a certain lady at Daisymead first.' The same little maid opened the door to us.

'They're all at lunch now, sir - unless it's Miss $aintclair you want to see, and she's resting.' 'It will do if I can see Mrs Oglander for a few minutes. Will you tell her?' We were led into the drawing-room to wait. I had a glimpse of the family in the dining-room as we passed, now reinforced by the presence of two heavy, solid-looking men, one with a moustache, the other with a beard also.

In a few minutes Mrs Oglander came into the room, looking inquiringly at Poirot, who bowed.

'Madame, we, in our country, have a great tenderness, a great respect for the mother. The mi, re defamille, she is everything!' Mrs Oglander looked rather astonished at this opening.

'It is for that reason that I have come - to allay a mother's anxiety. The murderer of Mr Reedburn will not be discovered.

Have no fear. I, Hercule Poirot, tell you so. I am right, am I not?

Or is it a wife that I must reassure?'

There was a moment's pause. Mrs Oglander seemed searching Poirot with her eyes. At last she said quietly: 'I don't know how you know - but yes, you are right.'

Poirot nodded gravely. 'That is all, madame. But do not be uneasy. Your English policemen have not the eyes of Hercule Poirot.' He tapped the family portrait on the wall with his finger-nail.

'You had another daughter once. She is dead, madame?'

Again there was a pause, as she searched him with her eyes.

Then she answered: 'Yes, she is dead.'

'Ahl' said Poirot briskly. 'Well, we must return to town. You permit that I return the king of clubs to the pack? It was your only slip. You understand, to have played bridge for an hour or so, with only fifty-one cards - well, no one who knows anything of the game would credit it for a minute! Bonjourl'

'find now, my friend,' said Poirot as we stepped towards the station, 'you see it all?

'I see nothing! Who killed Reedburn?'

'John Oglander, Junior. I was not quite sure if it was the father or the son, but I fixed on the son as being the stronger and younger of the two. It had to be one of them, because of the win-dow.'

'Why?'

'There were four exits from the library - two doors, two win-dows; but evidently only one would do. Three exits gave on the front, directly or indirectly. The tragedy had to occur in the back window in order to make it appear that Valerie Saintclair came to Daisymead by chance. Really, of course, she fainted, and John

Oglander carried her across over his shoulders. That is why I said he must be a strong man.' 'Did they go there together, then?' 'Yes. You remember Valerie's hesitation when I asked her if she was not afraid to go alone? John Oglander went with her which didn't improve Reedburn's temper, I fancy. They quarrelled, and it was probably some insult levelled at?alerie that made Oglander hit him. The rest, you know.' 'But why the bridge?' 'Bridge presupposes four players. A simple thing like that carries a lot of conviction. Who would have supposed that there had been only three people in that room all the evening?' I was still puzzled.

'There's one thing I don't understand. What have the Oglanders to do with the dancer Valerie Saintclair?' 'Ah, that I wonder you did not see. And yet you looked long enough at that picture on the wall - longer than I did. Mrs Oglander's other daughter may be dead to her family, but the world knows her as Valerie Saintclairl' 'What?' 'Did you not see the resemblance the moment you saw the two sisters together?' 'No,' I confessed. 'I only thought how extraordinarily dissimilar they were.' 'That is because your mind is so open to external romantic impressions, my dear Hastings. The features are almost identical.

$o is the colouring. The interesting thing is that?alerie is ashamed of her family, and her family is ashamed of her. Nevertheless, in a moment of peril, she turned to her brother for help, and when things went wrong, they all hung together in a remarkable way.

Family strength is a marvellous thing. They can all act, that family. That is where Valerie gets her histrionic talent from. I, like Prince Paul, believe in heredityl They deceived rnel But for a lucky accident, and test question to Mrs Oglander by which I got her to contradict her daughter's account of how they were sitting, the Oglander family would have put a defeat on Hercule Poirot.' 'What shall you tell the Prince?'

'That Valerie could not possibly have committed the crime, and that I doubt if that tramp will ever be found. Also, to convey my compliments to Zara. A curious coincidence, thatl I think I shall call this little affair the Adventure of the King of Clubs.

What do you think, my friend?'