Poirot Investigates、

首相绑架案
 

One

THE ADVENTURE OF “THE WESTERN STAR”

I was standing² at the window of Poirot’s rooms looking out idly on the street below.

“That’s queer,” I ejaculated suddenly beneath my breath.

“What is, mon ami?” asked Poirot placidly³, from the depths of his comfortable chair.

“Deduce, Poirot, from the following facts! Here is a young lady, richly dressed—fashionablehat, magnificent furs. She is coming along slowly, looking up at the houses as she goes. Unknownto her, she is being shadowed by three men and a middle-aged⁴ woman. They have just been joinedby an errand boy who points after the girl, gesticulating as he does so. What drama is this beingplayed? Is the girl a crook⁵, and are the shadows detectives preparing to arrest her? Or are they thescoundrels, and are they plotting to attack an innocent victim? What does the great detective say?”

“The great detective, mon ami, chooses, as ever, the simplest course. He rises to see forhimself.” And my friend joined me at the window.

In a minute he gave vent¹ to an amused chuckle⁶.

“As usual, your facts are tinged⁷ with your incurable⁸ romanticism. This is Miss Mary Marvell,the film star. She is being followed by a bevy¹⁰ of admirers who have recognized her. And, enpassant, my dear Hastings, she is quite aware of the fact!”

I laughed.

“So all is explained! But you get no marks for that, Poirot. It was a mere¹² matter ofrecognition.”

“En vérité! And how many times have you seen Mary Marvell on the screen, mon cher?”

I thought.

“About a dozen times perhaps.”

“And I—once! Yet I recognize her, and you do not.”

“She looks so different,” I replied rather feebly.

“Ah! Sacré! ” cried Poirot. “Is it that you expect her to promenade¹³ herself in the streets ofLondon in a cowboy hat, or with bare feet, and a bunch of curls, as an Irish colleen? Always withyou it is the nonessentials! Remember the case of the dancer, Valerie Saintclair.”

I shrugged¹⁴ my shoulders, slightly annoyed.

“But console yourself, mon ami,” said Poirot, calming down. “All cannot be as HerculePoirot! I know it well.”

“You really have the best opinion of yourself of anyone I ever knew!” I cried, dividedbetween amusement and annoyance¹⁵.

“What will you? When one is unique, one knows it! And others share that opinion—even, if Imistake it not, Miss Mary

Marvell.”

“What?”

“Without doubt. She is coming here.”

“How do you make that out?”

“Very simply. This street, it is not aristocratic, mon ami! In it there is no fashionable doctor,no fashionable dentist — still less is there a fashionable milliner! But there is a fashionabledetective. Oui, my friend, it is true—I am become the mode, the dernier cri! One says to another:

‘Comment? You have lost your gold pencil case? You must go to the little Belgian. He is toomarvellous! Everyone goes! Courez!’ And they arrive! In flocks, mon ami! With problems of themost foolish!” A bell rang below. “What did I tell you? That is Miss Marvell.”

As usual, Poirot was right. After a short interval¹⁶, the American film star was ushered¹⁷ in, andwe rose to our feet.

Mary Marvell was undoubtedly¹⁸ one of the most popular actresses on the screen. She had onlylately arrived in England in company with her husband, Gregory B. Rolf, also a film actor. Theirmarriage had taken place about a year ago in the States and this was their first visit to England.

They had been given a great reception. Everyone was prepared to go mad over Mary Marvell, herwonderful clothes, her furs, her jewels, above all one jewel, the great diamond which had beennicknamed, to match its owner, “The Western Star.” Much, true and untrue, had been writtenabout this famous stone which was reported to be insured for the enormous sum of fifty thousandpounds.

All these details passed rapidly through my mind as I joined with Poirot in greeting our fairclient.

Miss Marvell was small and slender, very fair and girlish looking, with the wide innocentblue eyes of a child.

Poirot drew forward a chair for her, and she commenced talking at once.

“You will probably think me very foolish, Monsieur Poirot, but Lord Cronshaw was tellingme last night how wonderfully you cleared up the mystery of his nephew’s death, and I felt that Ijust must have your advice. I dare say it’s only a silly hoax¹⁹—Gregory says so—but it’s justworrying me to death.”

She paused for breath. Poirot beamed encouragement.

“Proceed, madame. You comprehend, I am still in the dark.”

“It’s these letters.” Miss Marvell unclasped her handbag, and drew out three envelopes whichshe handed to Poirot.

The latter scrutinized²⁰ them closely.

“Cheap paper—the name and address carefully printed. Let us see the inside.” He drew outthe enclosure.

I had joined him, and was leaning over his shoulder. The writing consisted of a singlesentence, carefully printed like the envelope. It ran as follows:

“The great diamond which is the left eye of the god must return whence it came.”

The second letter was couched in precisely²¹ the same terms, but the third was more explicit²²:

“You have been warned. You have not obeyed. Now the diamond will be takenfrom you. At the full of the moon, the two diamonds which are the left and righteye of the god shall return. So it is written.”

“The first letter I treated as a joke,” explained Miss Marvell. “When I got the second, I began towonder. The third one came yesterday, and it seemed to me that, after all, the matter might bemore serious than I had imagined.”

“I see they did not come by post, these letters.”

“No; they were left by hand—by a Chinaman. That is what frightens me.”

“Why?”

“Because it was from a Chink in San Francisco that Gregory bought the stone three yearsago.”

“I see, madame, that you believe the diamond referred to to be—”

“ ‘The Western Star,’ ” finished Miss Marvell. “That’s so. At the time, Gregory remembersthat there was some story attached to the stone, but the Chink wasn’t handing out any information.

Gregory says he seemed just scared to death, and in a mortal hurry to get rid of the thing. He onlyasked about a tenth of its value. It was Greg’s wedding present to me.”

Poirot nodded thoughtfully.

“The story seems of an almost unbelievable romanticism. And yet—who knows? I pray ofyou, Hastings, hand me my little almanac.”

I complied.

“Voyons!” said Poirot, turning the leaves. “When is the date of the full moon? Ah, Fridaynext. That is in three days’ time. Eh bien, madame, you seek my advice—I give it to you. Thisbelle histoire may be a hoax—but it may not! Therefore I counsel you to place the diamond in mykeeping until after Friday next. Then we can take what steps we please.”

A slight cloud passed over the actress’s face, and she replied constrainedly²³:

“I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

“You have it with you—hein?” Poirot was watching her narrowly.

The girl hesitated a moment, then slipped her hand into the bosom²⁴ of her gown, drawing out along thin chain. She leaned forward, unclosing her hand. In the palm, a stone of white fire,exquisitely set in platinum²⁵, lay and winked²⁶ at us solemnly.

Poirot drew in his breath with a long hiss²⁷.

“?patant!” he murmured. “You permit, madame?” He took the jewel in his own hand andscrutinized it keenly, then restored it to her with a little bow. “A magnificent stone—without aflaw. Ah, cent tonnerres! and you carry it about with you, comme ?a! ”

“No, no, I’m very careful really, Monsieur Poirot. As a rule it’s locked up in my jewel case,and left in the hotel safe deposit. We’re staying at the Magnificent, you know. I just brought italong today for you to see.”

“And you will leave it with me, n’est-ce pas? You will be advised by Papa Poirot?”

“Well, you see, it’s this way, Monsieur Poirot. On Friday we’re going down to Yardly Chaseto spend a few days with Lord and Lady Yardly.”

Her words awoke a vague echo of remembrance in my mind. Some gossip—what was itnow? A few years ago Lord and Lady Yardly had paid a visit to the States, rumour²⁹ had it that hislordship had rather gone the pace out there with the assistance of some lady friends—but surelythere was something more, more gossip which coupled Lady Yardly’s name with that of a“movie” star in California—why! it came to me in a flash—of course it was none other thanGregory B. Rolf.

“I’ll let you into a little secret, Monsieur Poirot,” Miss Marvell was continuing. “We’ve got adeal on with Lord Yardly. There’s some chance of our arranging to film a play down there in hisancestral pile.”

“At Yardly Chase?” I cried, interested. “Why, it’s one of the showplaces of England.”

Miss Marvell nodded.

“I guess it’s the real old feudal³⁰ stuff all right. But he wants a pretty stiff price, and of course Idon’t know yet whether the deal will go through, but Greg and I always like to combine businesswith pleasure.”

“But—I demand pardon if I am dense³¹, madame—surely it is possible to visit Yardly Chasewithout taking the diamond with you?”

A shrewd, hard look came into Miss Marvell’s eyes which belied³² their childlike appearance.

She looked suddenly a good deal older.

“I want to wear it down there.”

“Surely,” I said suddenly, “there are some very famous jewels in the Yardly collection, alarge diamond amongst them?”

“That’s so,” said Miss Marvell briefly³³.

I heard Poirot murmur²⁸ beneath his breath: “Ah, c’est comme ?a! ” Then he said aloud, withhis usual uncanny luck in hitting the bull’s-eye (he dignifies³⁴ it by the name of psychology³⁵): “Thenyou are without doubt already acquainted with Lady Yardly, or perhaps your husband is?”

“Gregory knew her when she was out West three years ago,” said Miss Marvell. Shehesitated a moment, and then added abruptly³⁷: “Do either of you ever see Society Gossip?”

We both pleaded guilty rather shamefacedly.

“I ask because in this week’s number there is an article on famous jewels, and it’s really verycurious—” She broke off.

I rose, went to the table at the other side of the room and returned with the paper in questionin my hand. She took it from me, found the article, and began to read aloud:

“. . . Amongst other famous stones may be included The Star of the East, adiamond in the possession of the Yardly family. An ancestor of the present LordYardly brought it back with him from China, and a romantic story is said to attachto it. According to this, the stone was once the right eye of a temple god. Anotherdiamond, exactly similar in form and size, formed the left eye, and the story goesthat this jewel, too, would in course of time be stolen. ‘One eye shall go West, theother East, till they shall meet once more. Then, in triumph shall they return to thegod.’ It is a curious coincidence that there is at the present time a stonecorresponding closely in description with this one, and known as ‘The Star of theWest,’ or ‘The Western Star.’ It is the property of the celebrated³⁸ film star,Miss Mary Marvell. A comparison of the two stones would be interesting.”

She stopped.

“?patant!” murmured Poirot. “Without doubt a romance of the first water.” He turned toMary Marvell. “And you are not afraid, madame? You have no superstitious³⁹ terrors? You do notfear to introduce these two Siamese twins to each other lest a Chinaman should appear and, heypresto! whisk them both back to China?”

His tone was mocking, but I fancied that an undercurrent of seriousness lay beneath it.

“I don’t believe that Lady Yardly’s diamond is anything like as good as mine,” saidMiss Marvell. “Anyway, I’m going to see.”

What more Poirot would have said I do not know, for at that moment the door flew open, anda splendid-looking man strode into the room. From his crisply curling black head, to the tips of hispatent leather boots, he was a hero fit for romance.

“I said I’d call round for you, Mary,” said Gregory Rolf, “and here I am. Well, what doesMonsieur Poirot say to our little problem? Just one big hoax, same as I do?”

Poirot smiled up at the big actor. They made a ridiculous contrast.

“Hoax or no hoax, Mr. Rolf,” he said dryly, “I have advised Madame your wife not to takethe jewel with her to Yardly Chase on Friday.”

“I’m with you there, sir. I’ve already said so to Mary. But there! She’s a woman through andthrough, and I guess she can’t bear to think of another woman outshining her in the jewel line.”

“What nonsense, Gregory!” said Mary Marvell sharply. But she flushed angrily.

Poirot shrugged his shoulders.

“Madame, I have advised. I can do no more. C’est fini.”

He bowed them both to the door.

“Ah! la la,” he observed, returning. “Histoire des femmes! The good husband, he hit the nail—tout⁴⁰ de même, but he was not tactful! Assuredly not.”

I imparted to him my vague remembrances, and he nodded vigorously.

“So I thought. All the same, there is something curious underneath⁴¹ all this. With yourpermission, mon ami, I will take the air. Await my return, I beg of you, I shall not be long.”

I was half asleep in my chair when the landlady⁴² tapped on the door, and put her head in.

“It’s another lady to see Mr. Poirot, sir. I’ve told her he was out, but she says as how she’llwait, seeing as she’s come up from the country.”

“Oh, show her in here, Mrs. Murchinson. Perhaps I can do something for her.”

In another moment the lady had been ushered in. My heart gave a leap as I recognized her.

Lady Yardly’s portrait had figured too often in the Society papers to allow her to remain unknown.

“Do sit down, Lady Yardly,” I said, drawing forward a chair. “My friend, Poirot, is out, but Iknow for a fact that he’ll be back very shortly.”

She thanked me and sat down. A very different type, this, from Miss Mary Marvell. Tall,dark, with flashing eyes, and a pale proud face—yet something wistful in the curves of the mouth.

I felt a desire to rise to the occasion. Why not? In Poirot’s presence I have frequently felt adifficulty—I do not appear at my best. And yet there is no doubt that I, too, possess the deductivesense in a marked degree. I leant forward on a sudden impulse.

“Lady Yardly,” I said, “I know why you have come here. You have received blackmailingletters about the diamond.”

There was no doubt as to my bolt having shot home. She stared at me openmouthed, allcolour banished⁴³ from her cheeks.

“You know?” she gasped⁴⁴. “How?”

I smiled.

“By a perfectly⁴⁵ logical process. If Miss Marvell has had warning letters—”

“Miss Marvell? She has been here?”

“She has just left. As I was saying, if she, as the holder⁴⁶ of one of the twin diamonds, hasreceived a mysterious series of warnings, you, as the holder of the other stone, must necessarilyhave done the same. You see how simple it is? I am right, then, you have received these strangecommunications also?”

For a moment she hesitated, as though in doubt whether to trust me or not, then she bowedher head in assent⁴⁷ with a little smile.

“That is so,” she acknowledged.

“Were yours, too, left by hand—by a Chinaman?”

“No, they came by post; but tell me, has Miss Marvell undergone the same experience, then?”

I recounted to her the events of the morning. She listened attentively⁴⁸.

“It all fits in. My letters are the duplicate of hers. It is true that they came by post, but there isa curious perfume impregnating them — something in the nature of joss stick — that at oncesuggested the East to me. What does it all mean?”

I shook my head.

“That is what we must find out. You have the letters with you? We might learn somethingfrom the postmarks.”

“Unfortunately I destroyed them. You understand, at the time I regarded it as some foolishjoke. Can it be true that some Chinese gang are really trying to recover the diamonds? It seems tooincredible.”

We went over the facts again and again, but could get no further towards the elucidation⁴⁹ ofthe mystery. At last Lady Yardly rose.

“I really don’t think I need wait for Monsieur Poirot. You can tell him all this, can’t you?

Thank you so much Mr.—”

She hesitated, her hand outstretched.

“Captain Hastings.”

“Of course! How stupid of me. You’re a friend of the Cavendishes, aren’t you? It was MaryCavendish who sent me to Monsieur Poirot.”

When my friend returned, I enjoyed telling him the tale of what had occurred during hisabsence. He cross-questioned me rather sharply over the details of our conversation and I couldread between the lines that he was not best pleased to have been absent. I also fancied that the dearold fellow was just the least inclined to be jealous. It had become rather a pose with him toconsistently belittle⁵⁰ my abilities, and I think he was chagrined⁵¹ at finding no loophole for criticism.

I was secretly rather pleased with myself, though I tried to conceal⁵² the fact for fear of irritatinghim. In spite of his idiosyncrasies, I was deeply attached to my quaint³⁶ little friend.

“Bien! ” he said at length, with a curious look on his face. “The plot develops. Pass me, I prayyou, that Peerage on the top shelf there.” He turned the leaves. “Ah, here we are! ‘Yardly . . . 10thviscount, served South African War . . .’ tout ?a n’a pas d’importance . . . ‘mar. 1907 Hon. MaudeStopperton, fourth daughter of 3rd Baron⁵³ Cotteril . . .’ um, um, um . . . ‘has iss. two daughters,born 1908, 1910 . . . Clubs, residences . . .’ Voilà, that does not tell us much. But tomorrowmorning we see this milord! ”

“What?”

“Yes. I telephoned to him.”

“I thought you had washed your hands of the case?”

“I am not acting⁵⁴ for Miss Marvell since she refuses to be guided by my advice. What I donow is for my own satisfaction—the satisfaction of Hercule Poirot! Decidedly, I must have afinger in this pie.”

“And you calmly wire Lord Yardly to dash up to town just to suit your convenience. Hewon’t be pleased.”

“Au contraire, if I preserve for him his family diamond, he ought to be very grateful.”

“Then you really think there is any chance of it being stolen?” I asked eagerly.

“Almost a certainty,” replied Poirot placidly. “Everything points that way.”

“But how—”

Poirot stopped my eager questions with an airy gesture of the hand.

“Not now, I pray you. Let us not confuse the mind. And observe that Peerage—how youhave replaced him! See you not that the tallest books go in the top shelf, the next tallest in the rowbeneath, and so on. Thus we have order, method, which, as I have often told you, Hastings—”

“Exactly,” I said hastily, and put the offending volume in its proper place.

II

Lord Yardly turned out to be a cheery, loud-voiced sportsman with a rather red face, but with agood-humoured bonhomie about him that was distinctly attractive and made up for any lack ofmentality.

“Extraordinary business this, Monsieur Poirot. Can’t make head or tail of it. Seems my wife’sbeen getting odd kind of letters, and that Miss Marvell’s had ’em too. What does it all mean?”

Poirot handed him the copy of Society Gossip.

“First, milord, I would ask you if these facts are substantially correct?”

The peer took it. His face darkened with anger as he read.

“Damned nonsense!” he spluttered. “There’s never been any romantic story attaching to thediamond. It came from India originally, I believe. I never heard of all this Chinese god stuff.”

“Still, the stone is known as ‘The Star of the East.’ ”

“Well, what if it is?” he demanded wrathfully.

Poirot smiled a little, but made no direct reply.

“What I would ask you to do, milord, is to place yourself in my hands. If you do sounreservedly, I have great hopes of averting⁵⁶ the catastrophe⁵⁷.”

“Then you think there’s actually something in these wildcat tales?”

“Will you do as I ask you?”

“Of course I will, but—”

“Bien! Then permit that I ask you a few questions. This affair of Yardly Chase, is it, as yousay, all fixed⁵⁸ up between you and Mr. Rolf?”

“Oh, he told you about it, did he? No, there’s nothing settled.” He hesitated, the brick-redcolour of his face deepening. “Might as well get the thing straight. I’ve made rather an ass¹¹ ofmyself in many ways, Monsieur Poirot—and I’m head over ears in debt—but I want to pull up.

I’m fond of the kids, and I want to straighten things up, and be able to live on at the old place.

Gregory Rolf is offering me big money—enough to set me on my feet again. I don’t want to do it—I hate the thought of all that crowd playacting round the Chase—but I may have to, unless—”

He broke off.

Poirot eyed him keenly. “You have, then, another string to your bow? Permit that I make aguess? It is to sell The Star of the East?”

Lord Yardly nodded. “That’s it. It’s been in the family for some generations, but it’s notessential. Still, it’s not the easiest thing in the world to find a purchaser. Hoffberg, the HattonGarden man, is on the lookout⁵⁹ for a likely customer, but he’ll have to find one soon, or it’s awashout.”

“One more question, permettez—Lady Yardly, which plan does she approve?”

“Oh, she’s bitterly opposed to my selling the jewel. You know what women are. She’s all forthis film stunt⁶⁰.”

“I comprehend,” said Poirot. He remained a moment or so in thought, then rose briskly to hisfeet. “You return to Yardly Chase at once? Bien! Say no word to anyone—to anyone, mind—butexpect us there this evening. We will arrive shortly after five.

“All right, but I don’t see—”

“?a n’a pas d’importance,” said Poirot kindly⁶¹. “You will that I preserve for you yourdiamond, n’est-ce pas?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then do as I say.”

A sadly bewildered nobleman left the room.

III

It was half past five when we arrived at Yardly Chase, and followed the dignified⁶² butler to the oldpanelled hall with its fire of blazing logs. A pretty picture met our eyes: Lady Yardly and her twochildren, the mother’s proud dark head bent⁶³ down over the two fair ones. Lord Yardly stood near,smiling down on them.

“Monsieur Poirot and Captain Hastings,” announced the butler.

Lady Yardly looked up with a start, for her husband came forward uncertainly, his eyesseeking instruction from Poirot. The little man was equal to the occasion.

“All my excuses! It is that I investigate still this affair of Miss Marvell’s. She comes to youon Friday, does she not? I make a little tour first to make sure that all is secure. Also I wanted toask Lady Yardly if she recollected⁶⁴ at all the postmarks on the letters she received?”

Lady Yardly shook her head regretfully. “I’m afraid I don’t. It’s stupid of me. But, you see, Inever dreamt of taking them seriously.”

“You’ll stay the night?” said Lord Yardly.

“Oh, milord, I fear to incommode you. We have left our bags at the inn.”

“That’s all right.” Lord Yardly had his cue. “We’ll send down for them. No, no—no trouble,I assure you.”

Poirot permitted himself to be persuaded, and sitting down by Lady Yardly, began to makefriends with the children. In a short time they were all romping⁶⁵ together, and had dragged me intothe game.

“Vous êtes bonne mère,” said Poirot, with a gallant⁶⁶ little bow, as the children were removedreluctantly by a stern nurse.

Lady Yardly smoothed her ruffled⁶⁷ hair.

“I adore them,” she said with a little catch in her voice.

“And they you—with reason!” Poirot bowed again.

A dressing⁶⁸ gong sounded, and we rose to go up to our rooms. At that moment the butleremerged with a telegram on a salver which he handed to Lord Yardly. The latter tore it open witha brief word of apology. As he read it he stiffened⁶⁹ visibly.

With an ejaculation he handed it to his wife. Then he glanced at my friend.

“Just a minute, Monsieur Poirot, I feel you ought to know about this. It’s from Hoffberg. Hethinks he’s found a customer for the diamond—an American, sailing for the States tomorrow.

They’re sending down a chap tonight to vet⁷⁰ the stone. By Jove, though, if this goes through—”

Words failed him.

Lady Yardly had turned away. She still held the telegram in her hand.

“I wish you wouldn’t sell it, George,” she said, in a low voice. “It’s been in the family solong.” She waited, as though for a reply, but when none came her face hardened. She shrugged hershoulders. “I must go and dress. I suppose I had better display ‘the goods.’ ” She turned to Poirotwith a slight grimace⁷¹. “It’s one of the most hideous⁷² necklaces that was ever designed! George hasalways promised to have the stones reset⁷³ for me, but it’s never been done.” She left the room.

Half an hour later, we three were assembled in the great drawing room awaiting the lady. Itwas already a few minutes past the dinner hour.

Suddenly there was a low rustle⁷⁴, and Lady Yardly appeared framed in the doorway⁷⁵, a radiantfigure in a long white shimmering⁷⁶ dress. Round the column of her neck was a rivulet⁷⁷ of fire. Shestood there with one hand just touching⁷⁸ the necklace.

“Behold the sacrifice,” she said gaily⁷⁹. Her ill-humour seemed to have vanished. “Wait while Iturn the big light on and you shall feast your eyes on the ugliest necklace in England.”

The switches were just outside the door. As she stretched out her hand to them, the incrediblething happened. Suddenly, without any warning, every light was extinguished, the door banged,and from the other side of it came a long-drawn piercing woman’s scream.

“My God!” cried Lord Yardly. “That was Maude’s voice! What has happened?”

We rushed blindly for the door, cannoning⁸⁰ into each other in the darkness. It was someminutes before we could find it. What a sight met our eyes! Lady Yardly lay senseless on themarble floor, a crimson⁸¹ mark on her white throat where the necklace had been wrenched⁸² from herneck.

As we bent over her, uncertain for the moment whether she was dead or alive, her eyelidsopened.

“The Chinaman,” she whispered painfully. “The Chinaman—the side door.”

Lord Yardly sprang up with an oath. I accompanied him, my heart beating wildly. TheChinaman again! The side door in question was a small one in the angle of the wall, not more thana dozen yards from the scene of the tragedy. As we reached it, I gave a cry. There, just short of thethreshold, lay the glittering necklace, evidently dropped by the thief in the panic of his flight. Iswooped joyously⁸³ down on it. Then I uttered another cry which Lord Yardly echoed. For in themiddle of the necklace was a great gap. The Star of the East was missing!

“That settles it,” I breathed. “These were no ordinary thieves. This one stone was all theywanted.”

“But how did the fellow get in?”

“Through this door.”

“But it’s always locked.”

I shook my head. “It’s not locked now. See.” I pulled it open as I spoke⁸⁴.

As I did so something fluttered to the ground. I picked it up. It was a piece of silk, and theembroidery was unmistakable. It had been torn from a Chinaman’s robe.

“In his haste it caught in the door,” I explained. “Come, hurry. He cannot have gone far asyet.”

But in vain we hunted and searched. In the pitch darkness of the night, the thief had found iteasy to make his getaway. We returned reluctantly, and Lord Yardly sent off one of the footmenposthaste to fetch the police.

Lady Yardly, aptly ministered to by Poirot, who is as good as a woman in these matters, wassufficiently recovered to be able to tell her story.

“I was just going to turn on the other light,” she said, “when a man sprang on me frombehind. He tore my necklace from my neck with such force that I fell headlong to the floor. As Ifell I saw him disappearing through the side door. Then I realized by the pigtail and theembroidered robe that he was a Chinaman.” She stopped with a shudder⁸⁵.

The butler reappeared. He spoke in a low voice to Lord Yardly.

“A gentleman from Mr. Hoffberg’s, m’lord. He says you expect him.”

“Good heavens!” cried the distracted nobleman. “I must see him, I suppose. No, not here,Mullings, in the library.”

I drew Poirot aside.

“Look here, my dear fellow, hadn’t we better get back to London?”

“You think so, Hastings? Why?”

“Well”—I coughed delicately—“things haven’t gone very well, have they? I mean, you tellLord Yardly to place himself in your hands and all will be well—and then the diamond vanishesfrom under your very nose!”

“True,” said Poirot, rather crestfallen⁸⁶. “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 wouldbe more graceful⁸⁷ to leave immediately?”

“And the dinner, the without doubt excellent dinner, that the chef of Lord Yardly hasprepared?”

“Oh, what’s dinner!” I said impatiently.

Poirot held up his hands in horror.

“Mon Dieu! It is that in this country you treat the affairs gastronomic⁸⁸ with a criminalindifference.”

“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.”

“Eh bien, what of it?”

“Don’t you see?” His unusual obtuseness⁸⁹ annoyed me. What had happened to his usuallykeen wits? “They’ve got one, now they’ll go for the other.”

“Tiens!” cried Poirot, stepping back a pace and regarding me with admiration⁹⁰. “But yourbrain marches to a marvel⁹, my friend! Figure to yourself that for the moment I had not thought ofthat! But there is plenty of time. The full of the moon, it is not until Friday.”

I shook my head dubiously⁹¹. The full of the moon theory left me entirely⁹² cold. I had my waywith Poirot, however, and we departed immediately, leaving behind us a note of explanation andapology for Lord Yardly.

My idea was to go at once to the Magnificent, and relate to Miss Marvell what had occurred,but Poirot vetoed the plan, and insisted that the morning would be time enough. I gave in rathergrudgingly.

In the morning Poirot seemed strangely disinclined to stir out. I began to suspect that, havingmade a mistake to start with, he was singularly loath⁹³ to proceed with the case. In answer to mypersuasions, he pointed⁹⁴ out, with admirable common sense, that as the details of the affair atYardly Chase were already in the morning papers the Rolfs would know quite as much as wecould tell them. I gave way unwillingly⁹⁵.

Events proved my forebodings to be justified⁹⁶. About two o’clock, the telephone rang. Poirotanswered it. He listened for some moments, then with a brief “Bien, j’y serai” he rang off, andturned to me.

“What do you think, mon ami?” He looked half ashamed, half excited. “The diamond ofMiss Marvell, it has been stolen.”

“What?” I cried, springing up. “And what about the ‘full of the moon’ now?” Poirot hung hishead. “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.”

“It appears so, mon ami,” said Poirot cautiously. “Appearances are deceptive⁹⁷, they say, but itcertainly appears so.”

As we hurried in a taxi to the Magnificent, I puzzled out the true inwardness of the scheme.

“That ‘full of the moon’ idea was clever. The whole point of it was to get us to concentrateon the Friday, and so be off our guard beforehand. It is a pity you did not realize that.”

“Ma foi!” said Poirot airily, his nonchalance⁹⁸ quite restored after its brief eclipse. “One cannotthink of everything!”

I felt sorry for him. He did so hate failure of any kind.

“Cheer up,” I said consolingly. “Better luck next time.”

At the Magnificent, we were ushered at once into the manager’s office. Gregory Rolf wasthere with two men from Scotland Yard. A pale-faced clerk sat opposite them.

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 hadthe 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 muster⁹⁹, entered the hotel anddemanded the jewel case from the safe deposit. He duly signed the receipt, remarking carelessly ashe 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 aChinaman, 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 slanted¹⁰⁰ 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 Orientalabout the frank brown eyes that looked into ours.

The Scotland Yard man grunted¹⁰¹. “Bold customer. Thought the eyes might be noticed, andtook the bull by the horns to disarm¹⁰² suspicion. He must have watched you out of the hotel, sir, andnipped in as soon as you were well away.”

“What about the jewel case?” I asked.

“It was found in the corridor of the hotel. Only one thing had been taken—‘The WesternStar.’ ”

We stared at each other—the whole thing was so bizarre, so unreal.

Poirot hopped¹⁰³ 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 prostrated¹⁰⁴ with the shock,” exclaimed 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?”

“Lord Yardly.” He discounted further inquiries¹⁰⁵ by slipping his arm through mine. “Come,come, mon ami. I know all that you feel about this terrible business. I have not distinguishedmyself! You, in my place, might have distinguished¹⁰⁶ yourself. Bien! All is admitted. Let us forget itand have lunch.”

It was about four o’clock when we entered Poirot’s rooms. A figure rose from a chair by thewindow. It was Lord Yardly. He looked haggard and distraught.

“I got your wire and came up at once. Look here, I’ve been round to Hoffberg, and they knownothing about that man of theirs last night, or the wire either. Do you think that—”

Poirot held up his hand.

“My excuses! I sent that wire, and hired the gentleman in question.”

“You—but why? What?” The nobleman spluttered impotently.

“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 the ruse¹⁰⁷ succeeded,” said Poirot cheerfully. “Therefore, milord, I have much pleasure inreturning you—this!” With a dramatic gesture he produced a glittering object. It was a greatdiamond.

“The Star of the East,” gasped Lord Yardly. “But I don’t understand—”

“No?” said Poirot. “It makes no matter. Believe me, it was necessary for the diamond to bestolen. I promised you that it would be preserved to you, and I have kept my word. You mustpermit me to keep my little secret. Convey, I beg of you, the assurance of my deepest respect toLady Yardly, and tell her how pleased I am to be able to restore her jewel to her. What beautemps, is it not? Good day, milord.”

And smiling and talking, the amazing little man conducted the bewildered nobleman to thedoor. He returned gently rubbing his hands.

“Poirot,” I said. “Am I quite demented?”

“No, mon ami, but you are, as always, in a mental fog.”

“How did you get the diamond?”

“From Mr. Rolf.”

“Rolf?”

“Mais oui! The warning letters, the Chinaman, the article in Society Gossip, all sprang fromthe ingenious brain of Mr. Rolf! The two diamonds, supposed to be so miraculously¹⁰⁸ alike—bah!

they did not exist. There was only one diamond, my friend! Originally in the Yardly collection, forthree years it has been in the possession of Mr. Rolf. He stole it this morning with the assistance ofa touch of grease paint at the corner of each eye! Ah, I must see him on the film, he is indeed anartist, celui-là! ”

“But why should he steal his own diamond?” I asked, puzzled.

“For many reasons. To begin with, Lady Yardly was getting restive¹⁰⁹.”

“Lady Yardly?”

“You comprehend she was left much alone in California. Her husband was amusing himselfelsewhere. Mr. Rolf was handsome, he had an air about him of romance. But au fond, he is verybusinesslike, ce monsieur! He made love to Lady Yardly, and then he blackmailed¹¹⁰ her. I taxed thelady with the truth the other night, and she admitted it. She swore that she had only beenindiscreet, and I believe her. But, undoubtedly, Rolf had letters of hers that could be twisted tobear a different interpretation¹¹¹. Terrified by the threat of a divorce, and the prospect¹¹² of beingseparated from her children, she agreed to all he wished. She had no money of her own, and shewas forced to permit him to substitute a paste replica¹¹³ for the real stone. The coincidence of thedate of the appearance of ‘The Western Star’ struck me at once. All goes well. Lord Yardlyprepares to range himself—to settle down. And then comes the menace of the possible sale of thediamond. The substitution will be discovered. Without doubt she writes off frantically¹¹⁴ to GregoryRolf who has just arrived in England. He soothes¹¹⁵ her by promising¹¹⁶ to arrange all—and preparesfor a double robbery. In this way he will quiet the lady, who might conceivably tell all to herhusband, an affair which would not suit our blackmailer¹¹⁷ at all, he will have ?50,000 insurancemoney (aha, you had forgotten that!), and he will still have the diamond! At this point I put myfingers in the pie. The arrival of a diamond expert is announced. Lady Yardly, as I felt sure shewould, immediately arranges a robbery—and does it very well too! But Hercule Poirot, he seesnothing but facts. What happens in actuality? The lady switches off the light, bangs the door,throws the necklace down the passage, and screams. She has already wrenched out the diamondwith pliers

upstairs—”

“But we saw the necklace round her neck!” I objected.

“I demand pardon, my friend. Her hand concealed¹¹⁸ the part of it where the gap would haveshown. To place a piece of silk in the door beforehand is child’s play! Of course, as soon as Rolfread of the robbery, he arranged his own little comedy. And very well he played it!”

“What did you say to him?” I asked with lively curiosity.

“I said to him that Lady Yardly had told her husband all, that I was empowered to recover thejewel, and that if it were not immediately handed over proceedings¹¹⁹ would be taken. Also a fewmore little lies which occurred to me. He was as wax in my hands!”

I pondered the matter.

“It seems a little unfair on Mary Marvell. She has lost her diamond through no fault of herown.”

“Bah!” said Poirot brutally¹²⁰. “She has a magnificent advertisement. That is all she cares for,that one! Now the other, she is different. Bonne mère, très femme! ”

“Yes,” I said doubtfully, hardly sharing Poirot’s views on femininity. “I suppose it was Rolfwho sent her the duplicate letters.”

“Pas du tout,” said Poirot briskly. “She came by the advice of Mary Cavendish to seek myaid in her dilemma¹²¹. Then she heard that Mary Marvell, whom she knew to be her enemy, had beenhere, and she changed her mind jumping at a pretext¹²² that you, my friend, offered her. A very fewquestions sufficed to show me that you told her of the letters, not she you! She jumped at thechance your words offered.”

“I don’t believe it,” I cried, stung.

“Si, si, mon ami, it is a pity that you study not the psychology. She told you that the letterswere destroyed? Oh, la la, never does a woman destroy a letter if she can avoid it! Not even if itwould be more prudent¹²³ to do so!”

“It’s all very well,” I said, my anger rising, “but you’ve made a perfect fool of me! Frombeginning to end! No, it’s all very well to try and explain it away afterwards. There really is alimit!”

“But you were so enjoying yourself, my friend, I had not the heart to shatter your illusions.”

“It’s no good. You’ve gone a bit too far this time.”

“Mon Dieu! but how you enrage¹²⁴ yourself for nothing, mon ami! ”

“I’m fed up!” I went out, banging the door. Poirot had made an absolute laughingstock of me.

I decided⁵⁵ that he needed a sharp lesson. I would let some time elapse before I forgave him. He hadencouraged me to make a perfect fool of myself.

 

点击收听单词发音