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Six
“If there’s been a burglary, why the devil doesn’t old Mayfield send for the police?” demandedReggie Carrington.
He pushed his chair slightly back from the breakfast table.
He was the last down. His host, Mrs.?Macatta and Sir George had finished their breakfastssome time before. His mother and Mrs.?Vanderlyn were breakfasting in bed.
Sir George, repeating his statement on the lines agreed upon between Lord Mayfield andHercule Poirot, had a feeling that he was not managing it as well as he might have done.
“To send for a queer foreigner like this seems very odd to me,” said Reggie. “What has beentaken, Father?”
“I don’t know exactly, my boy.”
Reggie got up. He looked rather nervy and on edge this morning.
“Nothing—important? No—papers or anything like that?”
“To tell you the truth, Reggie, I can’t tell you exactly.”
“Very hush-hush, is it? I see.”
Reggie ran up the stairs, paused for a moment halfway1 with a frown on his face, and thencontinued his ascent2 and tapped on his mother’s door. Her voice bade him enter.
Lady Julia was sitting up in bed, scribbling3 figures on the back of an envelope.
“Good morning, darling.” She looked up, then said sharply:
“Reggie, is anything the matter?”
“Nothing much, but it seems there was a burglary last night.”
“A burglary? What was taken?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s all very hush-hush. There’s some odd kind of private inquiry4 agentdownstairs asking everybody questions.”
“How extraordinary!”
“It’s rather unpleasant,” said Reggie slowly, “staying in a house when that kind of thinghappens.”
“What did happen exactly?”
“Don’t know. It was some time after we all went to bed. Look out, Mother, you’ll have thattray off.”
He rescued the breakfast tray and carried it to a table by the window.
“Was money taken?”
“I tell you I don’t know.”
Lady Julia said slowly:
“I suppose this inquiry man is asking everybody questions?”
“I suppose so.”
“Where they were last night? All that kind of thing?”
“Probably. Well, I can’t tell him much. I went straight up to bed and was asleep in next to notime.”
Lady Julia did not answer.
“I say, Mother, I suppose you couldn’t let me have a spot of cash. I’m absolutely broke.”
I don’t know what your father will say when he hears about it.”
There was a tap at the door and Sir George entered.
“Ah, there you are, Reggie. Will you go down to the library? M. Hercule Poirot wants to seeyou.”
Poirot had just concluded an interview with the redoubtable7 Mrs.?Macatta.
A few brief questions had elicited8 the information that Mrs.?Macatta had gone up to bed justbefore eleven, and had heard or seen nothing helpful.
Poirot slid gently from the topic of the burglary to more personal matters. He himself had agreat admiration9 for Lord Mayfield. As a member of the general public he felt that Lord Mayfieldwas a truly great man. Of course, Mrs.?Macatta, being in the know, would have a far better meansof estimating that than himself.
“Lord Mayfield has brains,” allowed Mrs.?Macatta. “And he has carved his career out entirelyfor himself. He owes nothing to hereditary10 influence. He has a certain lack of vision, perhaps. Inthat I find all men sadly alike. They lack the breadth of a woman’s imagination. Woman, M.
Poirot, is going to be the great force in government in ten years’ time.”
Poirot said that he was sure of it.
He slid to the topic of Mrs.?Vanderlyn. Was it true, as he had heard hinted, that she and LordMayfield were very close friends?
“Not in the least. To tell you the truth I was very surprised to meet her here. Very surprisedindeed.”
Poirot invited Mrs.?Macatta’s opinion of Mrs.?Vanderlyn—and got it.
“One of those absolutely useless women, M. Poirot. Women that make one despair of one’sown sex! A parasite11, first and last a parasite.”
“Men admired her?”
“Men!” Mrs.?Macatta spoke12 the word with contempt. “Men are always taken in by those veryobvious good looks. That boy, now, young Reggie Carrington, flushing up every time she spoke tohim, absurdly flattered by being taken notice of by her. And the silly way she flattered him too.
Praising his bridge—which actually was far from brilliant.”
“He is not a good player?”
“He made all sorts of mistakes last night.”
“Lady Julia is a good player, is she not?”
“Much too good in my opinion,” said Mrs.?Macatta. “It’s almost a profession with her. Sheplays morning, noon, and night.”
“For high stakes?”
“Yes, indeed, much higher than I would care to play. Indeed I shouldn’t consider it right.”
“She makes a good deal of money at the game?”
“She reckons on paying her debts that way. But she’s been having a run of bad luck lately, soI’ve heard. She looked last night as though she had something on her mind. The evils of gambling,M. Poirot, are only slightly less than the evils caused by drink. If I had my way this country shouldbe purified—”
Poirot was forced to listen to a somewhat lengthy14 discussion on the purification of England’smorals. Then he closed the conversation adroitly15 and sent for Reggie Carrington.
He summed the young man up carefully as he entered the room, the weak mouthcamouflaged by the rather charming smile, the indecisive chin, the eyes set far apart, the rathernarrow head. He thought that he knew Reggie Carrington’s type fairly well.
“Mr.?Reggie Carrington?”
“Yes. Anything I can do?”
“Just tell me what you can about last night?”
“Well, let me see, we played bridge—in the drawing room. After that I went up to bed.”
“That was at what time?”
“Just before eleven. I suppose the robbery took place after that?”
“Yes, after that. You did not hear or see anything?”
Reggie shook his head regretfully.
“I’m afraid not. I went straight to bed and I sleep pretty soundly.”
“You went straight up from the drawing room to your bedroom and remained there until themorning?”
“That’s right.”
“Curious,” said Poirot.
Reggie said sharply:
“What do you mean, curious?”
“You did not, for instance, hear a scream?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Ah, very curious.”
“Look here, I don’t know what you mean.”
“You are, perhaps, slightly deaf?”
“Certainly not.”
Poirot’s lips moved. It was possible that he was repeating the word curious for the third time.
Then he said:
“Well, thank you, Mr.?Carrington, that is all.”
Reggie got up and stood rather irresolutely16.
“You know,” he said, “now you come to mention it, I believe I did hear something of thekind.”
“Ah, you did hear something?”
“Yes, but you see, I was reading a book—a detective story as a matter of fact—and I—well, Ididn’t really quite take it in.”
“Ah,” said Poirot, “a most satisfying explanation.”
His face was quite impassive.
Reggie still hesitated, then he turned and walked slowly to the door. There he paused andasked:
“I say, what was stolen?”
“Something of great value, Mr.?Carrington. That is all I am at liberty to say.”
“Oh,” said Reggie rather blankly.
He went out.
Poirot nodded his head.
“It fits,” he murmured. “It fits very nicely.”
He touched a bell and inquired courteously17 if Mrs.?Vanderlyn was up yet.
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