too, had been blamed for Nanki Poo's disappearance.
"But, really, M. Poirot, it was the most amazing thing. It all
hal)l)ened in a second. Outside Harrods it was. A nurse there asked me
the time-"
Poirot interrupted her.
"A nurse? A hospital nurse?"
"No, no-a children's nurse. Such a sweet baby it was, too! A dear
little mite. Such lovely rosy cheeks. They say
children don't look healthy in London, but I'm sure-"
"Ellen," said Mrs. Samirelson.
Miss Keble blushed, stammered, and subsided into silence.
Mrs. Samuelson said acidly, "And while Miss Keble was bending over a
perambulator that had nothing to do with her, this audacious villain cut
Nanki Poo's lead and made off with him."
Miss Keble murmured tearfully, "It all happened in a second. I looked
round and the darling boy was gonethere was just the dangling lead in my
hand. Perhaps you'd like to see the lead, M. Poirot?"
"By no means," said Poirot hastily. He had no wish to make a collection
of cut dog leads. "I understand," he went on, "that shortly afterward
you received a letter?"
The story followed the same course exactly-the letter the threats of
violence to Nanki Poo's cars and tail. Only two things were
different-the sum of money demanded_f3OO-and the address to which it was
to be sent; this time it was to Commander Blackleigh, Harrington Hotel,
76 Clonmel Gardens, Kensington.
Mrs. Samuelson went on: "When Nanki Poo was safely back again, I went
to the place myself, M. Poirot. After all, three hundred pounds is
three hundred pounds."
"Certainly it is."
"The very first thing I saw was my letter enclosing the money in a kind
of rack in the hall. While I was waiting for the proprietress I slipped
it into my bag. Unfortunately-"
Poirot said, "Unfortunately, when you opened it it contained only blank
sheets of paper."
"How did you know?" Mrs. Samuelson turned on him with awe.
Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
"Obviously, chdre Madame, the thief would take care to recover the money
before he returned the dog. He would then replace the notes with blank
paper and return the letter to the rack in case its absence should be
noticed."
"No such person as Commander Blackleigh had ever
stayed there."
Poirot smiled.
"And, of course, my husband was extremely annoyed about the whole thing.
In fact, he was livid-absolutely lividl"
Poirot murmured cautiously, "You did not-er-consult him before
dispatching the money?"
"Certainly not," said Mrs. Samuelson, with decision.
Poirot looked a question. The lady explained.
"I wouldn't have risked it for a moment. Men are so extraordinary when
it's a question of money. Jacob would have insisted on going to the
police. I couldn't risk that.
My poor darling Nanki Poo. Anything might have happened to him] Of
course, I had to tell my husband afterward, because I had to explain why
I was overdrawn at the bank."
Poirot murmured, "Quite so-quite so."
"And I have really never seen him so angry. Men," said Mrs. Samuelson,
rearranging her handsome diamond bracelet and turning her rings on her
fingers, "think of nothing but money."
Hercule Poirot went up in the lift to Sir Joseph Hoggin's office. He
sent in his card and was told that Sir Joseph was engaged at the moment
but would see him presently. A haughty blonde sailed out of Sir
Joseph's room at last with her hands full of papers. She gave the
quaint little man a disdainful glance in passing.
Sir Joseph was seated behind his immense mahogany desk. There was a
trace of lipstick on his chin.
"Well, M. Poirot? Sit down. Got any news for me?"
Hercule Poirot said, "The whole affair is of a pleasing simplicity. In
each case the money was sent to one of those boardinghouses or private
hotels where there is no porter or hall attendant and where a large
number of guests are always coming and going, including a fairly large
preponderance of ex-Servicemen. Nothing would be easier than for anyone
to walk in, abstract a letter from the rack, either take it away or else
remove the money and replace it with
blank paper. Therefore, in every case, the trail ends abruptly in a
blank wall."
"You mean you've no idea who the fellow is?"
"I have certain ideas, yes. It will take a few days to follow them up."
Sir Joseph looked at him curiously.
"Good work. Then, when you've got anything to report-"
"I will report to you at your house."
Sir josepfi said, "If you get to the bottom of this business, it will be
a pretty good piece of work."
Hercule Poirot said, "There is no question of failure.
Hercule Poirot does not fail."
Sir Joseph Hoggin looked at the little man and grinned.
"Sure of yourself, aren't you?" he demanded.
"Entirely with reason."
"Oh, well." Sir Joseph Hoggin leaned back in his chair.
"Pride goes before a fall, you know."
Hercule Poirot, sitting in front of his electric radiator (and feeling a
quiet satisfaction in its neat geometrical pattern) was giving
instructions to his valet and general factotum.
"You understand, Georges?"
"Perfectly, sir."
"More probably a flat or maisonette. And it will definitely be within
certain limits. South of the Park, east of Kensington Church, west of
Knightsbridge Barracks, and north of Fulham Road."
"I understand perfectly, sir."
Poirot murmured, "A curious little case. There is evidence here of a
very definite talent for organization. And there is, of course, the
surprising invisibility of the star performer-the Nemean Lion himself,
if I may so style him. Yes, an interesting little case. I could wish
that I felt more attracted to my client-but he bears an unfortunate
resemblance to a soap manufacturer of Libge who poisoned his wife in
order to marry a blond secretary. One of my early successes."
George shook his head. He said gravely, "These blondes, sir, they're
responsible for a lot of trouble."
It was three days later when the invaluable George said: "This is the
address, sir."
Hercule Poirot took the piece of paper handed to him.
"Excellent, my good Georges. And what day of the week?"
"Thursdays, sir."
"Thursdays. And today, most fortunately, is a Thursday.
So there need be no delay."
Twenty minutes later Hercule Poirot was climbing the stairs of an
obscure block of flats tucked away in a little street leading off a more
fashionable one. Number 10 Rosholm Mansions was on the third and top
floor and there was no lift. Poirot toiled upward round and re;und the
narrow corkscrew staircase.
He paused to regain his breath on the top landing and from behind the
d4Dor of Number 10 a new sound broke the silence-the sharp bark of a
dog.
Hercule Poirot time; dded his head with a slight smile. He pressed the
bell of Number
10.
The barking redoubled-footsteps came to the door, it was opened....
Miss Amy Carnaby fell back, her hand went to her ample breast.
"You permit that I enter?" said Hercule Poirot, and entered without
waiting for the reply.
There was a sitting-room door open on the right and he walked in. Behind
him Miss Carnaby followed as though in a dream.
The room was very small and much overcrowded. Amid the furniture a
human being could be discovered, an elderly woman lying on a sofa drawn
up to the gas fire. As Poirot came in, a Pekinese dog jumped off the
sofa and came forward, uttering a few sharp suspicious barks.
"Aha," said Poirot. "The chief actorl I salute you, my little friend."
He bent forward, extending his hand. The dog sniffed
at it, his intelligent eyes fixed on the man's face.
Miss Carnaby murmured faintly, "So you know?"
Hercule Poirot nodded. "Yes, I know." He looked at the woman on the
sofa. "Your sister, I think?"
iMiss Carnaby said mechanically, "Yes. Emily, this-this is M. Poirot."
Emily Carnaby gave a gasp. She said, "Ohl" Amy Carnaby said, "Augustus
. . ."
The Pekinese looked toward her-his tail moved-then he resumed his
scrutiny of Poirot's hand. Again his tail moved faintly.
Gently, Poirot picked the little dog up and sat down with Augustus on
his knee. He said:
"So I have captured the Nemean Lion. My task is completed."
Amy Carnaby said in a hard, dry voice, "Do you really know everything?"
Poirot nodded. "I think so. You organized this business -with Augustus
to help you. You took your employer's dog out for his usual walk,
brought him here, and went on to the Park with Augustus. The Park
Keeper saw you with a Pekinese as usual. The nurse girl, if we had ever
found her, would also have agreed that you had a Pekinese with you when
you spoke to her. Then, while you were talking, you cut the lead and
Augustus, trained by you, slij)l)ed off at once and made a beeline back
home. A few mtites later you gave the alarm that the dog had been
stolen."
There was a pause. Then Miss Carnaby drew herself up with a certain
pathetic dignity. She said:
"Yes. It is all quite true. I-I have nothing to say."
the invalid wonian on the sofa began to cry softly.
Poirot said, "Nothing at all, Nia(leivioiselle?"
Miss Carnaby said, "Nothing. I have been a thief-and now I am found
out."
Poirot mlirniured, "You have nothing to say-in your own defense?"
A spot of- e(I showed suddenly in Amy Carnaby's white cheeks. She s;d:
"I-I don't regret what I did. I think that you are a kind man, M.
Poirot, and that possibly you might understand.
You see, I've been so terribly afraid."
"Afraid?"
"Yes, it's difficult for a gentleman to understand, I expect. But you
see, I'm not a clever woman at all, and I've no training and I'm getting
older-and I'm so terrified for the future. I've not been able to save
anything-how could I, with Emily to be cared for?-and as I get older and
more incompetent there won't be anyone who wants me. They'll want
somebody young and brisk. I've-I've known so many people like I
am-nobody wants you and you live in one room and you can't have a fire
or any warmth and not very much to eat, and at last you can't even pay
the rent of your room. There are institutions, of course, but it's not
very easy to get into them unless you have influential friends, and I
haven't. There are a good many others situated like I am-poor
companions-untrained, useless women with nothing to look forward to but
a deadly fear."
Her voice shook. She said, "And so-some of us-got together and-and I
thought of this. It was really having Augustus that put it into my
mind. You see, to most people, one Pekinese is very much like another.
(just as we think the Chinese are.) Really, of course, it's ridiculous.
No one who knew could mistake Augustus for Nanki Poo or Shan Tung or any
of the other Pekes. He's far more intelligent, for one thing, and he's
much handsomer, but, as I say, to most people a Peke is just a Peke.
Augustus put it into my head-that, combined with the fact that so many
rich women have Pekinese dogs."
Poirot said with a faint smile, "It must have been a profitable-racketl
How many are there in the-the gang? Or perhaps I had better ask how
often operations have been successfully carried out?"
Miss Carnaby said simply, "Shan Tung was the sixteenth."
Hercule Poirot raised his eyebrows.
"I congratulate you. Your organization must have been indeed
excellent."
Emily Carnaby said, "Amy was always good at organization. Our father-he
was the Vicar of Kellington in Essexalways said that Amy had quite a
genius for planning. She always made all the arrangements for the
socials and the bazaars and all that."
Poirot said with a little bow, "I agree. As a criminal, Mademoiselle,
you are quite in the first rank."
Amy Carna6-y cried, "A criminal. Oh, dear, I suppose I am. But-but it
never felt like that."
"How did it feel?"
"Of course, you are quite right. It was breaking the law.
But you see-how can I explain it? Nearly all these women who employ us
are so very rude and unpleasant. Lady Hoggin, for instance, doesn't
mind what she says to me. She said her tonic tasted unpleasant the
other day and practically accused me of tampering with it. All that
sort of thing." Miss Carnaby flushed. "It's really very unpleasant.
And not being able to say anything or answer back makes it rankle more,
if you know what I mean."
"I know what you mean," said Hercule Poirot.
"And then seeing money frittered away so wastefullythat is upsetting.
And Sir loset)h occasionally he used to describe a coup he had ma7de ih
the city-sometimes something that seemed to me (of course, I know I've
only got a woman's brain and don't understand finance) downright
dishonest. Well, you know, M. Poirot, it all-it all unsettled me, and
I fe7lt that to take a little money away from these people who really
wouldn't miss it and hadn't been too scrupulous in acquiring it-well,
really it hardly seemed wrong at all."
Poirot murmured, "A modern Robin Hoodl Tell me, Miss Carnaby, did you
ever have to carry out the threats you used in your letters?"
"Threats?"
"Were you ever compelled to mutilate the animals in the way you
specified?"
Miss Carnaby regarded him in horror.
"I would never have dreamed of doing such a thingl That was just-just an
artistic touch."
"Very artistic. It worked."
"Well, of course I knew it would. I know how I should have felt about
Augustus, and of course I had to make sure these women never told their
husbands until afterward.
The plan worked beautifully every time. In nine cases out of ten the
companion was given the letter with the money to post. We usually
steamed it open, took out the notes, and replaced them with paper. Once
&
nbsp; or twice the woman posted it herself. Then, of course, the companion
had to go to the hotel and take the letter out of the rack. But that
was quite easy, too."
"And the nursemaid touch? Was it always a nursemaid?"
"Well, you see, M. Poirot, old maids are known to be foolishly
sentimental about babies. So it seemed quite natural that they should
be absorbed over a baby and not notice anything."
Hercule Poirot sighed. He said, "Your psychology is excellent, your
organization is first-class, and you are also a very fine actress. Your
performance the other day when I interviewed Lady Hoggin was
irreproachable. Never think of yourself disparagingly, Miss Carnaby.
You may be what is termed an untrained woman but there is nothing wrong
with your brains or with your courage."
Miss Carnaby said with a faint smile, "And yet I have been found out, M.
Poirot."
Only by me. That was inevitablel When I had interviewed Mrs. Samuelson
I realized that the kidnaping of Shan Tung was one of a series. I had
already learned that you had once been left a Pekinese dog and had an
invalid sister. I had only to ask my invaluable servant to look for a
small flat within a cert2n radius occupied by an invalid lady who had a
Pekinese dog and a sister who visited her once a week on her day out. It
was simple."
Amy Carnaby drew herself up.
She said, "You have been very kind. It emboldens me to ask you a favor.
I cannot, I know, escape the penalty for what I have done. I shall be
sent to prison, I suppose. But if you could, M. Poirot, avert gome of
the publicity. So distressing for Emily-and for those few who knew us
in the
old days. I could not, I suppose, go to prison under a false name? Or
is that a very wrong thing to ask?"
Hercule Poirot said, "I think I can do more than that.
But first of all I must make one thing quite clear. This racket has got
to stop. There must be no more disappearing dogs. All that is
finishedl"
"Yes? Oh, yesl"
"And the money you extracted from Lady Hoggin must be returned."
Amy Carnaby crossed the room, opened the drawer of a bureau, and
returned with a packet of notes which she handed to Poirot.
"I was going to pay it into the pool today."
Poirot took the notes and counted them. He got up.
"I think it possible, Miss Carnaby, that I may be able to persuade Sir
Joseph not to prosecute."
"Oh, M. Poirotl"
Amy Carnaby clasped her hands. Emily gave a cry of joy. Augustus
barked and wagged his tail.
"As for you, mon ami," said Poirot addressing him, there is one thing
that I wish you would give me. It is your mantle of invisibility that I
need. In all these cases nobody for a moment suspected that there was a
second dog involved. Augustus possessed the lion's skin of
invisibility."
"Of course, M. Poirot, according to the legend, Pekinese were lions
once. And they still have the hearts of lionsl"
"Augustus is, I suppose, the dog that was left to you by Lady
Hal-tingfield a(i who is repoi ted to have died? Were yott never afraid
of him coming home alone through the traffic?"
"Oh, no, M. Poirot, Augustus is very clever about traffic.
I have trained him most carefully. He has even grasped the principle of
one-way streets."
"In that case," said Hercule Poirot, "he is superior to most human
beingsl"
Sir Joseph received Hercule Poirot in his study. He said:
Mrs McGinty's Dead / the Labours of Hercules (Agatha Christie Collected Works) Page 3