Four

THE MYSTERY OF HUNTER’S LODGE¹

“After all,” murmured Poirot, “it is possible that I shall not die this time.”

Coming from a convalescent influenza² patient, I hailed the remark as showing a beneficialoptimism. I myself had been the first sufferer from the disease. Poirot in his turn had gone down.

He was now sitting up in bed, propped³ up with pillows, his head muffled⁴ in a woollen shawl, andwas slowly sipping⁵ a particularly noxious⁶ tisane which I had prepared according to his directions.

His eye rested with pleasure upon a neatly⁷ graduated row of medicine bottles which adorned⁸ themantelpiece.

“Yes, yes,” my little friend continued. “Once more shall I be myself again, the great HerculePoirot, the terror of evildoers! Figure to yourself, mon ami, that I have a little paragraph to myselfin Society Gossip. But yes! Here it is: ‘Go it—criminals—all out! Hercule Poirot—and believe me,girls, he’s some Hercules!—our own pet society detective can’t get a grip on you. ’Cause why?

’Cause he’s got la grippe himself!’ ”

I laughed.

“Good for you, Poirot. You are becoming quite a public character. And fortunately youhaven’t missed anything of particular interest during this time.”

“That is true. The few cases I have had to decline did not fill me with any regret.”

Our landlady¹⁰ stuck her head in at the door.

“There’s a gentleman downstairs. Says he must see Monsieur Poirot or you, Captain. Seeingas he was in a great to-do—and with all that quite the gentleman—I brought up ’is card.”

She handed me a bit of pasteboard. “Mr.?Roger Havering,” I read.

Poirot motioned with his head towards the bookcase, and I obediently pulled forth¹¹ Who’sWho. Poirot took it from me and scanned the pages rapidly.

“Second son of fifth Baron¹² Windsor. Married 1913 Zoe, fourth daughter of William Crabb.”

“H’m!” I said. “I rather fancy that’s the girl who used to act at the Frivolity—only she calledherself Zoe Carrisbrook. I remember she married some young man about town just before theWar.”

“Would it interest you, Hastings, to go down and hear what our visitor’s particular littletrouble is? Make him all my

excuses.”

Roger Havering was a man of about forty, well set up and of smart appearance. His face,however, was haggard, and he was evidently labouring under great agitation¹³.

“Captain Hastings? You are Monsieur Poirot’s partner, I understand. It is imperative¹⁴ that heshould come with me to Derbyshire today.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” I replied. “Poirot is ill in bed—influenza.”

His face fell.

“Dear me, that is a great blow to me.”

“The matter on which you want to consult him is serious?”

“My God, yes! My uncle, the best friend I have in the world, was foully¹⁵ murdered last night.”

“Here in London?”

“No, in Derbyshire. I was in town and received a telegram from my wife this morning.

Immediately upon its receipt I determined¹⁶ to come round and beg Monsieur Poirot to undertakethe case.”

“If you will excuse me a minute,” I said, struck by a sudden idea.

I rushed upstairs, and in a few brief words acquainted Poirot with the situation. He took anyfurther words out of my mouth.

“I see. I see. You want to go yourself, is it not so? Well, why not? You should know mymethods by now. All I ask is that you should report to me fully¹⁷ every day, and follow implicitlyany instructions I may wire you.”

To this I willingly agreed.

II

An hour later I was sitting opposite Mr.?Havering in a first-class carriage on the Midland Railway,speeding rapidly away from London.

“To begin with, Captain Hastings, you must understand that Hunter’s Lodge, where we aregoing, and where the tragedy took place, is only a small shooting box in the heart of theDerbyshire moors¹⁸. Our real home is near Newmarket, and we usually rent a flat in town for theseason. Hunter’s Lodge is looked after by a housekeeper¹⁹ who is quite capable of doing all we needwhen we run down for an occasional weekend. Of course, during the shooting season, we takedown some of our own servants from Newmarket. My uncle, Mr.?Harrington Pace (as you mayknow, my mother was a Miss?Pace of New York), has, for the last three years, made his home withus. He never got on well with my father, or my elder brother, and I suspect that my beingsomewhat of a prodigal²⁰ son myself rather increased than diminished his affection towards me. Ofcourse I am a poor man, and my uncle was a rich one—in other words, he paid the piper! But,though exacting²¹ in many ways, he was not really hard to get on with, and we all three lived veryharmoniously together. Two days ago, my uncle, rather wearied with some recent gaieties of oursin town, suggested that we should run down to Derbyshire for a day or two. My wife telegraphedto Mrs.?Middleton, the housekeeper, and we went down that same afternoon. Yesterday evening Iwas forced to return to town, but my wife and my uncle remained on. This morning I received thistelegram.” He handed it over to me:

“Come at once uncle Harrington murdered last night bring good detective if youcan but do come—Zoe.”

“Then, as yet you know no details?”

“No, I suppose it will be in the evening papers. Without doubt the police are in charge.”

It was about three o’clock when we arrived at the little station of Elmer’s Dale. From there afive-mile drive brought us to a small grey stone building in the midst of the rugged²² moors.

“A lonely place,” I observed with a shiver.

Havering nodded.

“I shall try and get rid of it. I could never live here again.”

We unlatched the gate and were walking up the narrow path to the oak door when a familiarfigure emerged and came to meet us.

“Japp!” I ejaculated.

The Scotland Yard inspector²³ grinned at me in a friendly fashion before addressing mycompanion.

“Mr.?Havering, I think? I’ve been sent down from London to take charge of this case, and I’dlike a word with you, if I may, sir.”

“My wife—”

“I’ve seen your good lady, sir—and the housekeeper. I won’t keep you a moment, but I amanxious to get back to the village now that I’ve seen all there is to see here.”

“I know nothing as yet as to what—”

“Ex-actly,” said Japp soothingly²⁵. “But there are just one or two little points I’d like youropinion about all the same. Captain Hastings here, he knows me, and he’ll go on up to the houseand tell them you’re coming. What have you done with the little man, by the way, CaptainHastings?”

“He’s ill in bed with influenza.”

“Is he now? I’m sorry to hear that. Rather the case of the cart without the horse, you beinghere without him, isn’t it?”

And on his rather ill-timed jest I went on to the house. I rang the bell, as Japp had closed thedoor behind him. After some moments it was opened to me by a middle-aged²⁶ woman in black.

“Mr.?Havering will be here in a moment,” I explained. “He has been detained by theinspector. I have come down with him from London to look into the case. Perhaps you can tell mebriefly what occurred last night.”

“Come inside, sir.” She closed the door behind me, and we stood in the dimly-lighted hall. “Itwas after dinner last night, sir, that the man came. He asked to see Mr.?Pace, sir, and, seeing thathe spoke²⁷ the same way, I thought it was an American gentleman friend of Mr.?Pace’s and Ishowed him into the gun room, and then went to tell Mr.?Pace. He wouldn’t give any name, which,of course, was a bit odd, now I come to think of it. I told Mr.?Pace, and he seemed puzzled like,but he said to the mistress: ‘Excuse me, Zoe, while I see what this fellow wants.’ He went off tothe gun room, and I went back to the kitchen, but after a while I heard loud voices, as if they werequarrelling, and I came out into the hall. At the same time, the mistress she comes out too, and justthen there was a shot and then a dreadful silence. We both ran to the gun room door, but it waslocked and we had to go round to the window. It was open, and there inside was Mr.?Pace, all shotand bleeding.”

“What became of the man?”

“He must have got away through the window, sir, before we got to it.”

“And then?”

“Mrs.?Havering sent me to fetch the police. Five miles to walk it was. They came back withme, and the constable²⁸ he stayed all night, and this morning the police gentleman from Londonarrived.”

“What was this man like who called to see Mr.?Pace?”

The housekeeper reflected.

“He had a black beard, sir, and was about middle-aged, and had on a light overcoat. Beyondthe fact that he spoke like an American I didn’t notice much about him.”

“I see. Now I wonder if I can see Mrs.?Havering?”

“She’s upstairs, sir. Shall I tell her?”

“If you please. Tell her that Mr.?Havering is outside with Inspector Japp, and that thegentleman he has brought back with him from London is anxious to speak to her as soon aspossible.”

“Very good, sir.”

I was in a fever of impatience²⁹ to get all the facts. Japp had two or three hours’ start on me,and his anxiety to be gone made me keen to be close at his heels.

Mrs.?Havering did not keep me waiting long. In a few minutes I heard a light step descendingthe stairs, and looked up to see a very handsome young woman coming towards me. She wore aflame-coloured jumper, that set off the slender boyishness of her figure. On her dark head was alittle hat of flame-coloured leather. Even the present tragedy could not dim the vitality³⁰ of herpersonality.

I introduced myself, and she nodded in quick comprehension.

“Of course I have often heard of you and your colleague, Monsieur Poirot. You have donesome wonderful things together, haven⁹’t you? It was very clever of my husband to get you sopromptly. Now will you ask me questions? That is the easiest way, isn’t it, of getting to know allyou want to about this dreadful affair?”

“Thank you, Mrs.?Havering. Now what time was it that this man arrived?”

“It must have been just before nine o’clock. We had finished dinner, and were sitting over ourcoffee and cigarettes.”

“Your husband had already left for London?”

“Yes, he went up by the 6:15.”

“Did he go by car to the station, or did he walk?”

“Our own car isn’t down here. One came out from the garage in Elmer’s Dale to fetch him intime for the train.”

“Was Mr.?Pace quite his usual self?”

“Absolutely. Most normal in every way.”

“Now, can you describe this visitor at all?”

“I’m afraid not. I didn’t see him. Mrs.?Middleton showed him straight into the gun room andthen came to tell my uncle.”

“What did your uncle say?”

“He seemed rather annoyed, but went off at once. It was about five minutes later that I heardthe sound of raised voices. I ran out into the hall and almost collided with Mrs.?Middleton. Thenwe heard the shot. The gun room door was locked on the inside, and we had to go right round thehouse to the window. Of course that took some time, and the murderer had been able to get wellaway. My poor uncle”—her voice faltered—“had been shot through the head. I saw at once that hewas dead. I sent Mrs.?Middleton for the police, I was careful to touch nothing in the room but toleave it exactly as I found it.”

I nodded approval.

“Now, as to the weapon?”

“Well, I can make a guess at it, Captain Hastings. A pair of revolvers of my husband’s weremounted upon the wall. One of them is missing. I pointed³¹ this out to the police, and they took theother one away with them. When they have extracted the bullet, I suppose they will know forcertain.”

“May I go to the gun room?”

“Certainly. The police have finished with it. But the body has been removed.”

She accompanied me to the scene of the crime. At that moment Havering entered the hall,and with a quick apology his wife ran to him. I was left to undertake my investigations³² alone.

I may as well confess at once that they were rather disappointing. In detective novels cluesabound, but here I could find nothing that struck me as out of the ordinary except a largebloodstain on the carpet where I judged the dead man had fallen. I examined everything withpainstaking care and took a couple of pictures of the room with my little camera which I hadbrought with me. I also examined the ground outside the window, but it appeared to have been soheavily trampled³³ underfoot that I judged it was useless to waste time over it. No, I had seen all thatHunter’s Lodge had to show me. I must go back to Elmer’s Dale and get into touch with Japp.

Accordingly I took leave of the Haverings, and was driven off in the car that had brought us fromthe station.

I found Japp at the Matlock Arms and he took me forthwith to see the body. Harrington Pacewas a small, spare, clean- shaven man, typically American in appearance. He had been shotthrough the back of the head, and the revolver had been discharged at close quarters.

“Turned away for a moment,” remarked Japp, “and the other fellow snatched up a revolverand shot him. The one Mrs.?Havering handed over to us was fully loaded and I suppose the otherone was also. Curious what darn fool things people do. Fancy keeping two loaded revolvershanging up on your wall.”

“What do you think of the case?” I asked, as we left the gruesome chamber³⁴ behind us.

“Well, I’d got my eye on Havering to begin with. Oh, yes!”—noting my exclamation³⁵ ofastonishment. “Havering has one or two shady incidents in his past. When he was a boy at Oxfordthere was some funny business about the signature on one of his father’s cheques. All hushed upof course. Then, he’s pretty heavily in debt now, and they’re the kind of debts he wouldn’t like togo to his uncle about, whereas you may be sure the uncle’s will would be in his favour. Yes, I’dgot my eye on him, and that’s why I wanted to speak to him before he saw his wife, but theirstatements dovetail all right, and I’ve been to the station and there’s no doubt whatever that he leftby the 6:15. That gets up to London about 10:30. He went straight to his club, he says, and if that’sconfirmed all right—why, he couldn’t have been shooting his uncle here at nine o’clock in a blackbeard!”

“Ah, yes, I was going to ask you what you thought about that beard?”

Japp winked³⁷.

“I think it grew pretty fast—grew in the five miles from Elmer’s Dale to Hunter’s Lodge.

Americans that I’ve met are mostly clean- shaven. Yes, it’s amongst Mr.?Pace’s Americanassociates that we’ll have to look for the murderer. I questioned the housekeeper first, and then hermistress, and their stories agree all right, but I’m sorry Mrs.?Havering didn’t get a look at thefellow. She’s a smart woman, and she might have noticed something that would set us on thetrack.”

I sat down and wrote a minute and lengthy³⁸ account to Poirot. I was able to add various furtheritems of information before I posted the letter.

The bullet had been extracted and was proved to have been fired from a revolver identicalwith the one held by the police. Furthermore, Mr.?Havering’s movements on the night in questionhad been checked and verified, and it was proved beyond doubt that he had actually arrived inLondon by the train in question. And, thirdly, a sensational³⁹ development had occurred. A citygentleman, living at Ealing, on crossing Haven Green to get to the District Railway Station thatmorning, had observed a brown-paper parcel stuck between the railings. Opening it, he found thatit contained a revolver. He handed the parcel over to the local police station, and before night itwas proved to be the one we were in search of, the fellow to that given us by Mrs.?Havering. Onebullet had been fired from it.

All this I added to my report. A wire from Poirot arrived whilst I was at breakfast thefollowing morning:

“Of course black-bearded man was not Havering only you or Japp would havesuch an idea wire me description of housekeeper and what clothes she wore thismorning same of Mrs.?Havering do not waste time taking photographs of interiorsthey are underexposed and not in the least

artistic⁴⁰.”

It seemed to me that Poirot’s style was unnecessarily facetious⁴¹. I also fancied he was a shadejealous of my position on the spot with full facilities for handling the case. His request for adescription of the clothes worn by the two women appeared to me to be simply ridiculous, but Icomplied as well as I, a mere⁴² man, was able to.

At eleven a reply wire came from Poirot:

“Advise Japp arrest housekeeper before it is too late.”

Dumbfounded, I took the wire to Japp. He swore softly under his breath.

“He’s the goods, Monsieur Poirot: if he says so, there’s something in it. And I hardly noticedthe woman. I don’t know that I can go so far as arresting her, but I’ll have her watched. We’ll goup right away, and take another look at her.”

But it was too late, Mrs.?Middleton, that quiet middle-aged woman, who had appeared sonormal and respectable, had vanished into thin air. Her box had been left behind. It contained onlyordinary wearing apparel. There was no clue to her identity, or as to her whereabouts.

From Mrs.?Havering we elicited⁴³ all the facts we could:

“I engaged her about three weeks ago when Mrs.?Emery, our former housekeeper, left. Shecame to me from Mrs.?Selbourne’s Agency in Mount Street—a very well-known place. I get allmy servants from there. They sent several women to see me, but this Mrs.?Middleton seemedmuch the nicest, and had splendid references. I engaged her on the spot, and notified the Agencyof the fact. I can’t believe that there was anything wrong with her. She was such a nice quietwoman.”

The thing was certainly a mystery. Whilst it was clear that the woman herself could not havecommitted the crime, since at the moment the shot was fired Mrs.?Havering was with her in thehall, nevertheless she must have some connection with the murder, or why should she suddenlytake to her heels and bolt?

I wired the latest development to Poirot and suggested returning to London and makinginquiries at Selbourne’s Agency.

Poirot’s reply was prompt:

“Useless to inquire at agency they will never have heard of her find out whatvehicle took her up to hunters lodge when she first arrived there.”

Though mystified, I was obedient. The means of transport in Elmer’s Dale were limited. The localgarage had two battered⁴⁵ Ford³⁶ cars, and there were two station flies. None of these had beenrequisitioned on the date in question. Questioned, Mrs.?Havering explained that she had given thewoman the money for her fare down to Derbyshire and sufficient to hire a car or fly to take her upto Hunter’s Lodge. There was usually one of the Fords at the station on the chance of its beingrequired. Taking into consideration the further fact that nobody at the station had noticed thearrival of a stranger, black-bearded or otherwise, on the fatal evening, everything seemed to pointto the conclusion that the murderer had come to the spot in a car, which had been waiting near athand to aid his escape, and that the same car had brought the mysterious housekeeper to her newpost. I may mention that inquiries⁴⁴ at the Agency in London bore out Poirot’s prognostication. Nosuch woman as “Mrs.?Middleton” had ever been on their books. They had received the Hon.

Mrs.?Havering’s application for a housekeeper, and had sent her various applicants⁴⁶ for the post.

When she sent them the engagement fee, she omitted to mention which woman she had selected.

Somewhat crestfallen⁴⁷, I returned to London. I found Poirot established in an armchair by thefire in a garish⁴⁸, silk dressing²⁴ gown. He greeted me with much affection.

“Mon ami Hastings! But how glad I am to see you. Veritably I have for you a great affection!

And you have enjoyed yourself? You have run to and fro with the good Japp? You haveinterrogated and investigated to your heart’s content?”

“Poirot,” I cried, “the thing’s a dark mystery! It will never be solved.”

“It is true that we are not likely to cover ourselves with glory over it.”

“No, indeed. It’s a hard nut to crack.”

“Oh, as far as that goes, I am very good at cracking the nuts! A veritable squirrel! It is notthat which embarrasses me. I know well enough who killed Mr.?Harrington Pace.”

“You know? How did you find out?”

“Your illuminating⁴⁹ answers to my wires supplied me with the truth. See here, Hastings, let usexamine the facts methodically and in order. Mr.?Harrington Pace is a man with a considerablefortune which at his death will doubtless pass to his nephew. Point No 1. His nephew is known tobe desperately⁵⁰ hard up. Point No 2. His nephew is also known to be—shall we say a man of ratherloose moral fibre? Point No 3.”

“But Roger Havering is proved to have journeyed straight up to London.”

“Précisément—and therefore, as Mr.?Havering left Elmer’s Dale at 6:15, and since Mr.?Pacecannot have been killed before he left, or the doctor would have spotted⁵¹ the time of the crime asbeing given wrongly when he examined the body, we conclude quite rightly, that Mr.?Haveringdid not shoot his uncle. But there is a Mrs.?Havering, Hastings.”

“Impossible! The housekeeper was with her when the shot was fired.”

“Ah, yes, the housekeeper. But she has disappeared.”

“She will be found.”

“I think not. There is something peculiarly elusive⁵² about that housekeeper, don’t you thinkso, Hastings? It struck me at once.”

“She played her part, I suppose, and then got out in the nick of time.”

“And what was her part?”

“Well, presumably to admit her confederate, the black-bearded man.”

“Oh, no, that was not her part! Her part was what you have just mentioned, to provide an alibifor Mrs.?Havering at the moment the shot was fired. And no one will ever find her, mon ami,because she does not exist! ‘There’s no such person,’ as your so great Shakespeare says.”

“It was Dickens,” I murmured, unable to suppress a smile. “But what do you mean, Poirot?”

“I mean that Zoe Havering was an actress before her marriage, that you and Japp only sawthe housekeeper in a dark hall, a dim middle-aged figure in black with a faint subdued⁵⁴ voice, andfinally that neither you nor Japp, nor the local police whom the housekeeper fetched, ever sawMrs.?Middleton and her mistress at one and the same time. It was child’s play for that clever anddaring woman. On the pretext⁵⁵ of summoning her mistress, she runs upstairs, slips on a brightjumper and a hat with black curls attached which she jams down over the grey transformation⁵⁶. Afew deft⁵⁷ touches, and the makeup⁵⁸ is removed, a slight dusting of rouge⁵⁹, and the brilliant ZoeHavering comes down with her clear ringing voice. Nobody looks particularly at the housekeeper.

Why should they? There is nothing to connect her with the crime. She, too, has an alibi⁵³.”

“But the revolver that was found at Ealing? Mrs.?Havering could not have placed it there?”

“No, that was Roger Havering’s job—but it was a mistake on their part. It put me on the righttrack. A man who has committed murder with a revolver which he found on the spot would fling itaway at once, he would not carry it up to London with him. No, the motive⁶⁰ was clear, thecriminals wished to focus the interest of the police on a spot far removed from Derbyshire, theywere anxious to get the police away as soon as possible from the vicinity of Hunter’s Lodge. Ofcourse the revolver found at Ealing was not the one with which Mr.?Pace was shot. RogerHavering discharged one shot from it, brought it up to London, went straight to his club toestablish his alibi, then went quickly out to Ealing by the District, a matter of about twentyminutes only, placed the parcel where it was found and so back to town. That charming creature,his wife, quietly shoots Mr.?Pace after dinner—you remember he was shot from behind? Anothersignificant point, that!—reloads the revolver and puts it back in its place, and then starts off withher desperate little comedy.”

“It’s incredible,” I muttered, fascinated, “and yet—”

“And yet it is true. Bien sur, my friend, it is true. But to bring that precious pair to justice,that is another matter. Well, Japp must do what he can—I have written him fully—but I very muchfear, Hastings, that we shall be obliged to leave them to Fate, or le bon Dieu, whichever youprefer.”

“The wicked flourish like a green bay tree,” I reminded him.

“But at a price, Hastings, always at a price, croyez-moi!?”

Poirot’s forebodings were confirmed, Japp, though convinced of the truth of his theory, wasunable to get together the necessary evidence to ensure a conviction.

Mr.?Pace’s huge fortune passed into the hands of his murderers. Nevertheless, Nemesis⁶¹ didovertake them, and when I read in the paper that the Hon. Roger and Mrs.?Havering were amongstthose killed in the crashing of the Air Mail to Paris I knew that Justice was satisfied.

 

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