II

At half past eleven, Charles Laverton-West was ushered¹ into Chief Inspector² Japp’s room. Japprose and shook hands.

The M.P. was a man of medium height with a very definite personality. He was clean-shaven,with the mobile mouth of an actor, and the slightly prominent eyes that so often go with the gift oforatory. He was good-looking in a quiet, well-bred way.

Though looking pale and somewhat distressed³, his manner was perfectly⁴ formal andcomposed.

He took a seat, laid his gloves and hat on the table and looked towards Japp.

“I’d like to say, first of all, Mr.?Laverton-West, that I fully⁵ appreciate how distressing⁶ thismust be to you.”

Laverton-West waved this aside.

“Do not let us discuss my feelings. Tell me, Chief Inspector, have you any idea what causedmy—Mrs.?Allen to take her own life?”

“You yourself cannot help us in any way?”

“No, indeed.”

“There was no quarrel? No estrangement⁷ of any kind between you?”

“Nothing of the kind. It has been the greatest shock to me.”

“Perhaps it will be more understandable, sir, if I tell you that it was not suicide—butmurder!”

“Murder?” Charles Laverton-West’s eyes popped nearly out of his head. “You say murder?”

“Quite correct. Now, Mr.?Laverton-West, have you any idea who might be likely to makeaway with Mrs.?Allen?”

Laverton-West fairly spluttered out his answer.

“No—no, indeed—nothing of the sort! The mere⁸ idea is—is unimaginable!”

“She never mentioned any enemies? Anyone who might have a grudge⁹ against her?”

“Never.”

“Did you know that she had a pistol?”

“I was not aware of the fact.”

He looked a little startled.

“Miss?Plenderleith says that Mrs.?Allen brought this pistol back from abroad with her someyears ago.”

“Really?”

“Of course, we have only Miss?Plenderleith’s word for that. It is quite possible thatMrs.?Allen felt herself to be in danger from some source and kept the pistol handy for reasons ofher own.”

Charles Laverton-West shook his head doubtfully. He seemed quite bewildered and dazed.

“What is your opinion of Miss?Plenderleith, Mr.?Laverton-West? I mean, does she strike youas a reliable, truthful¹⁰ person?”

The other pondered a minute.

“I think so—yes, I should say so.”

“You don’t like her?” suggested Japp, who had been watching him closely.

“I wouldn’t say that. She is not the type of young woman I admire. That sarcastic,independent type is not attractive to me, but I should say she was quite truthful.”

“H’m,” said Japp. “Do you know a Major Eustace?”

“Eustace? Eustace? Ah, yes, I remember the name. I met him once at Barbara’s—Mrs.?Allen’s. Rather a doubtful customer in my opinion. I said as much to my—to Mrs.?Allen. Hewasn’t the type of man I should have encouraged to come to the house after we were married.”

“And what did Mrs.?Allen say?”

“Oh! she quite agreed. She trusted my judgment¹¹ implicitly¹². A man knows other men betterthan a woman can do. She explained that she couldn’t very well be rude to a man whom she hadnot seen for some time—I think she felt especially a horror of being snobbish¹³! Naturally, as mywife, she would find a good many of her old associates well—unsuitable, shall we say?”

“Meaning that in marrying you she was bettering her position?” Japp asked bluntly.

Laverton-West held up a well-manicured hand.

“No, no, not quite that. As a matter of fact, Mrs.?Allen’s mother was a distant relation of myown family. She was fully my equal in birth. But of course, in my position, I have to be especiallycareful in choosing my friends—and my wife in choosing hers. One is to a certain extent in thelimelight.”

“Oh, quite,” said Japp dryly. He went on, “So you can’t help us in any way?”

“No indeed. I am utterly¹⁴ at sea. Barbara! Murdered! It seems incredible.”

“Now, Mr.?Laverton-West, can you tell me what your own movements were on the night ofNovember fifth?”

“My movements? My movements?”

Laverton-West’s voice rose in shrill¹⁵ protest.

“Purely a matter of routine,” explained Japp. “We—er—have to ask everybody.”

Charles Laverton-West looked at him with dignity.

“I should hope that a man in my position might be exempt¹⁶.”

Japp merely waited.

“I was—now let me see . . . Ah, yes. I was at the House. Left at half past ten. Went for a walkalong the Embankment. Watched some of the fireworks.”

“Nice to think there aren’t any plots of that kind nowadays,” said Japp cheerily.

Laverton-West gave him a fish-like stare.

“Then I—er—walked home.”

“Reaching home—your London address is Onslow Square, I think—at what time?”

“I hardly know exactly.”

“Eleven? Half past?”

“Somewhere about then.”

“Perhaps someone let you in.”

“No, I have my key.”

“Meet anybody whilst you were walking?”

“No—er—really, Chief Inspector, I resent these questions very much!”

“I assure you, it’s just a matter of routine, Mr.?Laverton-West. They aren’t personal, youknow.”

The reply seemed to soothe¹⁷ the irate¹⁸ M.P.

“If that is all—”

“That is all for the present, Mr.?Laverton-West.”

“You will keep me informed—”

“Naturally, sir. By the way, let me introduce M. Hercule Poirot. You may have heard ofhim.”

Mr.?Laverton-West’s eye fastened itself interestedly on the little Belgian.

“Yes—yes—I have heard the name.”

“Monsieur,” said Poirot, his manner suddenly very foreign. “Believe me, my heart bleeds foryou. Such a loss! Such agony as you must be enduring! Ah, but I will say no more. Howmagnificently the English hide their emotions.” He whipped out his cigarette case. “Permit me—Ah, it is empty. Japp?”

Japp slapped his pockets and shook his head.

Laverton-West produced his own cigarette case, murmured, “Er—have one of mine, M.

Poirot.”

“Thank you—thank you.” The little man helped himself.

“As you say, M. Poirot,” resumed the other, “we English do not parade our emotions. A stiffupper lip—that is our motto.”

He bowed to the two men and went out.

“Bit of a stuffed fish,” said Japp disgustedly. “And a boiled owl¹⁹! The Plenderleith girl wasquite right about him. Yet he’s a good-looking sort of chap—might go down well with somewoman who had no sense of humour. What about that cigarette?”

Poirot handed it over, shaking his head.

“Egyptian. An expensive variety.”

“No, that’s no good. A pity, for I’ve never heard a weaker alibi²⁰! In fact, it wasn’t an alibi atall . . . You know, Poirot, it’s a pity the boot wasn’t on the other leg. If she’d been blackmailinghim . . . He’s a lovely type for blackmail—would pay out like a lamb! Anything to avoid ascandal.”

“My friend, it is very pretty to reconstruct the case as you would like it to be, but that is notstrictly our affair.”

“No, Eustace is our affair. I’ve got a few lines on him. Definitely a nasty fellow.”

“By the way, did you do as I suggested about Miss?Plenderleith?”

“Yes. Wait a sec, I’ll ring through and get the latest.”

He picked up the telephone receiver and spoke²¹ through it.

After a brief interchange he replaced it and looked up at Poirot.

“Pretty heartless piece of goods. Gone off to play golf. That’s a nice thing to do when yourfriend’s been murdered only the day before.”

Poirot uttered an exclamation²².

“What’s the matter now?” asked Japp.

But Poirot was murmuring to himself.

“Of course . . . of course . . . but naturally . . . What an imbecile I am—why, it leapt to theeye!”

Japp said rudely:

“Stop jabbering²³ to yourself and let’s go and tackle Eustace.”

He was amazed to see the radiant smile that spread over Poirot’s face.

“But—yes—most certainly let us tackle him. For now, see you, I know everything—buteverything!”

 

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