Four

Blinking a little, Hercule Poirot turned his head from one man to the other. Very delicately hesmothered a yawn.

It was half past two in the morning. He had been roused from sleep and rushed down throughthe darkness in a big Rolls Royce. Now he had just finished hearing what the two men had totell?him.

“Those are the facts, M. Poirot,” said Lord Mayfield.

He leaned back in his chair, and slowly fixed¹ his monocle in one eye. Through it a shrewd,pale-blue eye watched Poirot attentively². Besides being shrewd the eye was definitely sceptical.

Poirot cast a swift glance at Sir George Carrington.

That gentleman was leaning forward with an expression of almost childlike hopefulness onhis face.

Poirot said slowly:

“I have the facts, yes. The maid screams, the secretary goes out, the nameless watcher comesin, the plans are there on top of the desk, he snatches them up and goes. The facts—they are allvery convenient.”

Something in the way he uttered the last phrase seemed to attract Lord Mayfield’s attention.

He sat up a little straighter, his monocle dropped. It was as though a new alertness came to him.

“I beg your pardon, M. Poirot?”

“I said, Lord Mayfield, that the facts were all very convenient—for the thief. By the way, youare sure it was a man you saw?”

Lord Mayfield shook his head.

“That I couldn’t say. It was just a—shadow. In fact, I was almost doubtful if I had seenanyone.”

Poirot transferred his gaze to the Air Marshal.

“And you, Sir George? Could you say if it was a man or a woman?”

“I didn’t see anyone myself.”

Poirot nodded thoughtfully. Then he skipped suddenly to his feet and went over to the writingtable.

“I can assure you that the plans are not there,” said Lord Mayfield. “We have all three beenthrough those papers half a dozen times.”

“All three? You mean, your secretary also?”

“Yes, Carlile.”

Poirot turned suddenly.

“Tell me, Lord Mayfield, which paper was on top when you went over to the desk?”

Mayfield frowned a little in the effort of remembrance.

“Let me see—yes, it was a rough memorandum³ of some sort of our air defence positions.”

Deftly⁴, Poirot nipped out a paper and brought it over.

“Is this the one, Lord Mayfield?”

Lord Mayfield took it and glanced over it.

“Yes, that’s the one.”

Poirot took it over to Carrington.

“Did you notice this paper on the desk?”

Sir George took it, held it away from him, then slipped on his pince-nez.

“Yes, that’s right. I looked through them too, with Carlile and Mayfield. This was on top.”

Poirot nodded thoughtfully. He replaced the paper on the desk. Mayfield looked at him in aslightly puzzled manner.

“If there are any other questions—” he began.

“But yes, certainly there is a question. Carlile. Carlile is the question!”

Lord Mayfield’s colour rose a little.

“Carlile, M. Poirot, is quite above suspicion! He has been my confidential⁵ secretary for nineyears. He has access to all my private papers, and I may point out to you that he could have madea copy of the plans and a tracing of the specifications⁶ quite easily without anyone being the wiser.”

“I appreciate your point,” said Poirot. “If he had been guilty there would be no need for himto stage a clumsy robbery.”

“In any case,” said Lord Mayfield, “I am sure of Carlile. I will guarantee him.”

“Carlile,” said Carrington gruffly, “is all right.”

Poirot spread out his hands gracefully⁷.

“And this Mrs.?Vanderlyn—she is all wrong?”

“She’s a wrong ’un all right,” said Sir George.

Lord Mayfield said in more measured tones:

“I think, M. Poirot, that there can be no doubt of Mrs. Vanderlyn’s—well—activities. TheForeign Office can give you more precious data as to that.”

“And the maid, you take it, is in with her mistress?”

“Not a doubt of it,” said Sir George.

“It seems to me a plausible⁸ assumption,” said Lord Mayfield more cautiously.

There was a pause. Poirot sighed, and absentmindedly rearranged one or two articles on atable at his right hand. Then he said:

“I take it that these papers represented money? That is, the stolen papers would be definitelyworth a large sum in cash.”

“If presented in a certain quarter—yes.”

“Such as?”

Sir George mentioned the names of two European powers.

Poirot nodded.

“That fact would be known to anyone, I take it?”

“Mrs.?Vanderlyn would know it all right.”

“I said to anyone?”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Anyone with a minimum of intelligence would appreciate the cash value of the plans?”

“Yes, but M. Poirot—” Lord Mayfield was looking rather uncomfortable.

Poirot held up a hand.

“I do what you call explore all the avenues.”

Suddenly he rose again, stepped nimbly out of the window and with a flashlight examined theedge of the grass at the farther side of the terrace.

The two men watched him.

He came in again, sat down and said:

“Tell me, Lord Mayfield, this malefactor⁹, this skulker¹⁰ in the shadows, you do not have himpursued?”

Lord Mayfield shrugged¹¹ his shoulders.

“At the bottom of the garden he could make his way out to a main road. If he had a carwaiting there, he would soon be out of reach—”

“But there are the police—the A.A. scouts—”

Sir George interrupted.

“You forget, M. Poirot. We cannot risk publicity¹². If it were to get out that these plans hadbeen stolen, the result would be extremely unfavourable to the Party.”

“Ah, yes,” said Poirot. “One must remember La Politique. The great discretion¹³ must beobserved. You send instead for me. Ah well, perhaps it is simpler.”

“You are hopeful of success, M. Poirot?” Lord Mayfield sounded a trifle incredulous.

The little man shrugged his shoulders.

“Why not? One has only to reason—to reflect.”

He paused a moment and then said:

“I would like now to speak to Mr.?Carlile.”

“Certainly.” Lord Mayfield rose. “I asked him to wait up. He will be somewhere at hand.”

He went out of the room.

Poirot looked at Sir George.

“Eh bien,” he said. “What about this man on the terrace?”

“My dear M. Poirot. Don’t ask me! I didn’t see him, and I can’t describe him.”

Poirot leaned forward.

“So you have already said. But it is a little different from that is it not?”

“What d’you mean?” asked Sir George abruptly¹⁴.

“How shall I say it? Your disbelief, it is more profound.”

Sir George started to speak, then stopped.

“But yes,” said Poirot encouragingly. “Tell me. You are both at the end of the terrace. LordMayfield sees a shadow slip from the window and across the grass. Why do you not see thatshadow?”

Carrington stared at him.

“You’ve hit it, M. Poirot. I’ve been worrying about that ever since. You see, I’d swear that noone did leave this window. I thought Mayfield had imagined it—branch of a tree waving—something of that kind. And then when we came in here and found there had been a robbery, itseemed as though Mayfield must have been right and I’d been wrong. And yet—”

Poirot smiled.

“And yet you still in your heart of hearts believe in the evidence (the negative evidence) ofyour own eyes?”

“You’re right, M. Poirot, I do.”

Poirot gave a sudden smile.

“How wise you are.”

Sir George said sharply:

“There were no footprints on the grass edge?”

Poirot nodded.

“Exactly. Lord Mayfield, he fancies he sees a shadow. Then there comes the robbery and heis sure—but sure! It is no longer a fancy—he actually saw the man. But that is not so. Me, I do notconcern myself much with footprints and such things but for what it is worth we have thatnegative evidence. There were no footprints on the grass. It had rained heavily this evening. If aman had crossed the terrace to the grass this evening his footprints would have shown.”

Sir George said, staring: “But then—but then—”

“It brings us back to the house. To the people in the house.”

He broke off as the door opened and Lord Mayfield entered with Mr.?Carlile.

Though still looking very pale and worried, the secretary had regained¹⁵ a certain composure ofmanner. Adjusting his pince-nez he sat down and looked at Poirot inquiringly.

“How long had you been in this room when you heard the scream, monsieur?”

Carlile considered.

“Between five and ten minutes, I should say.”

“And before that there had been no disturbance¹⁶ of any kind?”

“No.”

“I understand that the house party had been in one room for the greater part of the evening.”

“Yes, the drawing room.”

Poirot consulted his notebook.

“Sir George Carrington and his wife. Mrs.?Macatta. Mrs.?Vanderlyn. Mr.?Reggie Carrington.

Lord Mayfield and yourself. Is that right?”

“I myself was not in the drawing room. I was working here the greater part of the evening.”

Poirot turned to Lord Mayfield.

“Who went up to bed first?”

“Lady Julia Carrington, I think. As a matter of fact, the three ladies went out together.”

“And then?”

“Mr.?Carlile came in and I told him to get out the papers as Sir George and I would be alongin a minute.”

“It was then that you decided¹⁷ to take a turn on the terrace?”

“It was.”

“Was anything said in Mrs.?Vanderlyn’s hearing as to your working in the study?”

“The matter was mentioned, yes.”

“But she was not in the room when you instructed Mr.?Carlile to get out the papers?”

“No.”

“Excuse me, Lord Mayfield,” said Carlile. “Just after you had said that, I collided with her inthe doorway¹⁸. She had come back for a book.”

“So you think she might have overheard?”

“I think it quite possible, yes.”

“She came back for a book,” mused¹⁹ Poirot. “Did you find her her book, Lord Mayfield?”

“Yes, Reggie gave it to her.”

“Ah, yes, it is what you call the old gasp—no, pardon, the old wheeze—that—to come backfor a book. It is often useful!”

“You think it was deliberate?”

Poirot shrugged his shoulders.

“And after that, you two gentlemen go out on the terrace. And Mrs.?Vanderlyn?”

“She went off with her book.”

“And the young M. Reggie. He went to bed also?”

“Yes.”

“And Mr.?Carlile he comes here and sometime between five and ten minutes later he heard ascream. Continue, M. Carlile. You heard a scream and you went out into the hall. Ah, perhaps itwould be simplest if you reproduced exactly your actions.”

Mr.?Carlile got up a little awkwardly.

“Here I scream,” said Poirot helpfully. He opened his mouth and emitted a shrill²⁰ bleat²¹. LordMayfield turned his head away to hide a smile and Mr.?Carlile looked extremely uncomfortable.

“Allez! Forward! March!” cried Poirot. “It is your cue that I give you there.”

Mr.?Carlile walked stiffly to the door, opened it and went out. Poirot followed him. The othertwo came behind.

“The door, did you close it after you or leave it open?”

“I can’t really remember. I think I must have left it open.”

“No matter. Proceed.”

Still with extreme stiffness, Mr.?Carlile walked to the bottom of the staircase and stood therelooking up.

Poirot said:

“The maid, you say, was on the stairs. Whereabouts?”

“About halfway²² up.”

“And she was looking upset.”

“Definitely so.”

“Eh bien, me, I am the maid.” Poirot ran nimbly up the stairs. “About here?”

“A step or two higher.”

“Like this?”

Poirot struck an attitude.

“Well—er—not quite like that.”

“How then?”

“Well, she had her hands to her head.”

“Ah, her hands to her head. That is very interesting. Like this?” Poirot raised his arms, hishands rested on his head just above each?ear.

“Yes that’s it.”

“Aha! And tell me, M. Carlile, she was a pretty girl—yes?”

“Really, I didn’t notice.”

Carlile’s voice was repressive.

“Aha, you did not notice? But you are a young man. Does not a young man notice when a girlis pretty?”

“Really, M. Poirot, I can only repeat that I did not do so.”

Carlile cast an agonized²³ glance at his employer. Sir George Carrington gave a suddenchuckle.

“M. Poirot seems determined²⁴ to make you out a gay dog, Carlile,” he remarked.

“Me, I always notice when a girl is pretty,” announced Poirot as he descended²⁵ the stairs.

The silence with which Mr.?Carlile greeted this remark was somewhat pointed²⁶. Poirot wenton:

“And it was then she told this tale of having seen a ghost?”

“Yes.”

“Did you believe the story?”

“Well, hardly, M. Poirot!”

“I do not mean, do you believe in ghosts. I mean, did it strike you that the girl herself reallythought she had seen something?”

“Oh, as to that, I couldn’t say. She was certainly breathing fast and seemed upset.”

“You did not see or hear anything of her mistress?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I did. She came out of her room in the gallery above and called,‘Leonie.’ ”

“And then?”

“The girl ran up to her and I went back to the study.”

“Whilst you were standing²⁷ at the foot of the stairs here, could anyone have entered the studyby the door you had left open?”

Carlile shook his head.

“Not without passing me. The study door is at the end of the passage, as you see.”

Poirot nodded thoughtfully. Mr.?Carlile went on in his careful, precise voice.

“I may say that I am very thankful that Lord Mayfield actually saw the thief leaving thewindow. Otherwise I myself should be in a very unpleasant position.”

“Nonsense, my dear Carlile,” broke in Lord Mayfield impatiently. “No suspicion couldpossibly attach to you.”

“It is very kind of you to say so, Lord Mayfield, but facts are facts, and I can quite see that itlooks badly for me. In any case I hope that my belongings²⁸ and myself may be searched.”

“Nonsense, my dear fellow,” said Mayfield.

Poirot murmured:

“You are serious in wishing that?”

“I should infinitely²⁹ prefer it.”

Poirot looked at him thoughtfully for a minute or two and murmured, “I see.”

Then he asked:

“Where is Mrs.?Vanderlyn’s room situated³⁰ in regard to the study?”

“It is directly over it.”

“With a window looking out over the terrace?”

“Yes.”

Again Poirot nodded. Then he said:

“Let us go to the drawing room.”

Here he wandered round the room, examined the fastenings of the windows, glanced at thescorers on the bridge table and then finally addressed Lord Mayfield.

“This affair,” he said, “is more complicated than it appears. But one thing is quite certain. Thestolen plans have not left this house.”

Lord Mayfield stared at him.

“But, my dear M. Poirot, the man I saw leaving the study—”

“There was no man.”

“But I saw him—”

“With the greatest respect, Lord Mayfield, you imagined you saw him. The shadow cast bythe branch of a tree deceived you. The fact that a robbery occurred naturally seemed a proof thatwhat you had imagined was true.”

“Really, M. Poirot, the evidence of my own eyes—”

“Back my eyes against yours any day, old boy,” put in Sir George.

“You must permit me, Lord Mayfield, to be very definite on that point. No one crossed theterrace to the grass.”

Looking very pale and speaking stiffly, Mr.?Carlile said:

“In that case, if M. Poirot is correct, suspicion automatically attaches itself to me. I am theonly person who could possibly have committed the robbery.”

Lord Mayfield sprang up.

“Nonsense. Whatever M. Poirot thinks about it, I don’t agree with him. I am convinced ofyour innocence³¹, my dear Carlile. In fact, I’m willing to guarantee it.”

Poirot murmured mildly:

“But I have not said that I suspect M. Carlile.”

Carlile answered:

“No, but you’ve made it perfectly³² clear that no one else had a chance to commit the robbery.”

“Du tout³³! Du tout!”

“But I have told you nobody passed me in the hall to get to the study door.”

“I agree. But someone might have come in through the study window.”

“But that is just what you said did not happen?”

“I said that no one from outside could have come and left without leaving marks on the grass.

But it could have been managed from inside the house. Someone could have gone out from hisroom by one of these windows, slipped along the terrace, in at the study window, and back againin here.”

Mr.?Carlile objected:

“But Lord Mayfield and Sir George Carrington were on the terrace.”

“They were on the terrace, yes, but they were en promenade³⁴. Sir George Carrington’s eyesmay be of the most reliable”—Poirot made a little bow—“but he does not keep them in the back ofhis head! The study window is at the extreme left of the terrace, the windows of this room comenext, but the terrace continues to the right past one, two, three, perhaps four rooms?”

“Dining room, billiard room, morning room and library,” said Lord Mayfield.

“And you walked up and down the terrace, how many times?”

“At least five or six.”

“You see, it is easy enough, the thief has only to watch for the right moment!”

Carlile said slowly:

“You mean that when I was in the hall, talking to the French girl, the thief was waiting in thedrawing room?”

“That is my suggestion. It is, of course, only a suggestion.”

“It doesn’t sound very probable to me,” said Lord Mayfield. “Too risky³⁵.”

The Air Marshal demurred³⁶.

“I don’t agree with you, Charles. It’s perfectly possible. Wonder I hadn’t the wits to think ofit for myself.”

“So you see,” said Poirot, “why I believe that the plans are still in the house. The problemnow is to find them!”

Sir George snorted.

“That’s simple enough. Search everybody.”

Lord Mayfield made a movement of dissent³⁷, but Poirot spoke³⁸ before he could.

“No, no, it is not so simple as that. The person who took those plans will anticipate that asearch will be made and will make quite sure that they are not found amongst his or herbelongings. They will have been hidden in neutral ground.”

“Do you suggest that we’ve got to go playing hide and seek all over the bally house?”

Poirot smiled.

“No, no, we need not be so crude as that. We can arrive at the hiding place (or alternatively atthe identity of the guilty person) by reflection. That will simplify matters. In the morning I wouldlike an interview with every person in the house. It would, I think, be unwise to seek thoseinterviews now.”

Lord Mayfield nodded.

“Cause too much comment,” he said, “if we dragged everybody out of their beds at three inthe morning. In any case you’ll have to proceed with a good deal of camouflage³⁹, M. Poirot. Thismatter has got to be kept dark.”

Poirot waved an airy hand.

“Leave it to Hercule Poirot. The lies I invent are always most delicate and most convincing.

Tomorrow, then, I conduct my investigations⁴⁰. But tonight, I should like to begin by interviewingyou, Sir George and you, Lord Mayfield.”

He bowed to them both.

“You mean—alone?”

“That was my meaning.”

Lord Mayfield raised his eyes slightly, then he said:

“Certainly. I’ll leave you alone with Sir George. When you want me, you’ll find me in mystudy. Come, Carlile.”

He and the secretary went out, shutting the door behind them.

Sir George sat down, reaching mechanically for a cigarette. He turned a puzzled face toPoirot.

“You know,” he said slowly. “I don’t quite get this.”

“That is very simply explained,” said Poirot with a smile. “In two words, to be accurate.

Mrs.?Vanderlyn!”

“Oh,” said Carrington. “I think I see. Mrs.?Vanderlyn?”

“Precisely. It might be, you see, that it would not be very delicate to ask Lord Mayfield thequestion I want to ask. Why Mrs.?Vanderlyn? This lady, she is known to be a suspicious character.

Why, then, should she be here? I say to myself there are three explanations. One, that LordMayfield has a penchant⁴¹ for the lady (and that is why I seek to talk to you alone. I do not wish toembarrass him). Two, that Mrs.?Vanderlyn is perhaps the dear friend of someone else in thehouse?”

“You can count me out!” said Sir George with a grin.

“Then, if neither of those cases is true, the question returns in redoubled force. WhyMrs.?Vanderlyn? And it seems to me I perceive a shadowy answer. There was a reason. Herpresence at this particular juncture⁴² was definitely desired by Lord Mayfield for a special reason.

Am I right?”

Sir George nodded.

“You’re quite right,” he said. “Mayfield is too old a bird to fall for her wiles⁴³. He wanted herhere for quite another reason. It was like this.”

He retailed⁴⁴ the conversation that had taken place at the dinner table. Poirot listenedattentively.

“Ah,” he said. “I comprehend now. Nevertheless, it seems that the lady has turned the tableson you both rather neatly⁴⁵!”

Sir George swore freely.

Poirot watched him with some slight amusement, then he said:

“You do not doubt that this theft is her doing—I mean, that she is responsible for it, whetheror no she played an active part?”

Sir George stared.

“Of course not! There isn’t any doubt of that. Why, who else would have any interest instealing those plans?”

“Ah!” said Hercule Poirot. He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. “And yet, Sir George,we agreed, not a quarter of an hour ago, that these papers represented very definitely money. Notperhaps, in quite so obvious a form as banknotes, or gold, or jewellery, but nevertheless they werepotential money. If there were anyone here who was hard up—”

The other interrupted him with a snort.

“Who isn’t these days? I suppose I can say it without incriminating myself.”

He smiled and Poirot smiled politely back at him and murmured:

“Mais oui, you can say what you like, for you, Sir George, have the one unimpeachable⁴⁶ alibiin this affair.”

“But I’m damned hard up myself!”

Poirot shook his head sadly.

“Yes, indeed, a man in your position has heavy living expenses. Then you have a young sonat a most expensive age—”

Sir George groaned⁴⁷.

“Education’s bad enough, then debts on top of it. Mind you, this lad’s not a bad lad.”

Poirot listened sympathetically. He heard a lot of the Air Marshal’s accumulated grievances⁴⁸.

The lack of grit⁴⁹ and stamina⁵⁰ in the younger generation, the fantastic way in which mothers spoilttheir children and always took their side, the curse of gambling⁵¹ once it got hold of a woman, thefolly of playing for higher stakes than you could afford. It was couched in general terms, SirGeorge did not allude⁵² directly to either his wife or his son, but his natural transparency made hisgeneralizations very easy to see through.

He broke off suddenly.

“Sorry, mustn’t take up your time with something that’s right off the subject, especially atthis hour of the night—or rather, morning.”

He stifled⁵³ a yawn.

“I suggest, Sir George, that you should go to bed. You have been most kind and helpful.”

“Right, think I will turn in. You really think there is a chance of getting the plans back?”

Poirot shrugged his shoulders.

“I mean to try. I do not see why not.”

“Well, I’ll be off. Goodnight.”

He left the room.

Poirot remained in his chair staring thoughtfully at the ceiling, then he took out a littlenotebook and turning to a clean page, he wrote:

Mrs.?Vanderlyn?

Lady Julia Carrington?

Mrs.?Macatta?

Reggie Carrington?

Mr.?Carlile?

Underneath⁵⁴ he wrote:

Mrs.?Vanderlyn and Mr.?Reggie Carrington?

Mrs.?Vanderlyn and Lady Julia?

Mrs.?Vanderlyn and Mr.?Carlile?

He shook his head in a dissatisifed manner, murmuring: “C’est plus simple que ?a.”

Then he added a few short sentences.

Did Lord Mayfield see a “shadow?” If not, why did he say he did? Did SirGeorge see anything? He was positive he had seen nothing AFTER I examinedflower-bed. Note: Lord Mayfield is nearsighted, can read without glasses but hasto use a monocle to look across a room. Sir George is long-sighted. Therefore,from the far end of the terrace, his sight is more to be depended upon than LordMayfield’s. Yet Lord Mayfield is very positive that he DID see something and isquite unshaken by his friend’s denial.

Can anyone be quite as above suspicion as Mr.?Carlile appears to be? LordMayfield is very emphatic⁵⁵ as to his innocence. Too much so. Why? Because hesecretly suspects him and is ashamed of his suspicions? Or because he definitelysuspects some other person? That is to say, some person OTHER thanMrs.?Vanderlyn?

He put the notebook away.

Then, getting up, he went along to the study.

 

点击收听单词发音