Mrs McGinty's Dead / the Labours of Hercules (Agatha Christie Collected Works)

by Agatha Christie

came to me. I've left it all to Diana."

  Hercule Poirot sat back in his chair. He said, "Ahl"

  Then he said, "But you may live to be quite an old man, Mr. Chandler."

  Hugh Chandler shook his head.

  He said sharply, "No, M. Poirot. I am not going to live to be an old

  man."

  Then he drew back with a sudden shudder.

  "My Godl Lookl" He stared over Poirot's shoulder.

  "There-standing by you ... it's a skeleton-its bones are shaking. It's

  calling to me-beckoning-"

  His eyes, the pupils widely dilated, stared into the sunshine. He

  leaned suddenly sideways as though collapsing.

  Then, turning to Poirot, he said in an almost childlike voice, "You

  didn't see-anything?"

  Slowly Hercule Poirot shook his head.

  Hugh Chandler said hoarsely, "I don't mind this so much-seeing things.

  It's the blood I'm frightened of. The blood in my rooni-on my

  clothes.... We had a parrot.

  One morning it was there in my room with its throat cut -and I was lying

  on the bed with the razor in my hand

  wet with its bloodl"

  He leaned closer to Poirot.

  "Even just lately things have been killed," he whispered.

  "All arou(I-in the village-out on the downs. Sheep young lanibs-a

  collie dog. Father locks me in at night, but sometes-sometimes-the

  door's open in the morning. I must have a key hidden somewhere but I

  don't know where I've hidden it. I don't know. It isn't I who do these

  things-it's someone else who comes into me-who takes possession O'f

  me-who turns me from a man into a raving monster who wants blood and who

  can't drink water."

  Su(l(lenly he buried his face in his hands.

  AfLer a nnute or two, Poirot asked, "I still do not understand why you

  have not seen a doctor?"

  Htigh (,handler shook his head. He said, "Don't you really understand?

  ilhysically I'm strong. I'm as strong as a bull. I might live for

  years-years-shut up between four walls! That I can't facel It would be

  better to go out altogether.... There are ways, you know. An accident,

  cleaning a gun ... that sort of thing. Diana will understand. .

  I'd rather take my own way outl"

  He looked defiantly at Poirot, but Poirot did not respon(i to the

  challenge. Instead he asked mildly:

  "Wliat (lo you eat and drink?"

  Hugh Chandler flung his head back. He roared with laughter.

  "Nightmares after indigestion? Is that your idea?"

  Poirot merely repeated gently,"What do you eat and drink?"

  ".just what everybody else eats and drinks."

  "No special medicine? Cachets? Pills?"

  "Good Lord, no. Do you really think patent pills would cure my

  trouble?" He (looted derisively' "Canst thou then mini'stet- to a mind

  diseased?"

  Hercule Poirot said dryly, "I am trying to. Does anyone in tls house

  stiffer with eye trouble?"

  Hugh Cli;tnciler stared at him.

  He s;(l, "Fzi.Llier's eyes give him a good deal of trouble.

  He has to go to an oculist fairly often."

  "Ahl" Poirot meditated for a moment or two. Then he said, "Colonel

  Frobisher, I suppose, has spent much of his life in India?"

  "Yes, he was in the Indian Army, He's very keen on India-talks about it

  a lot-native traditions-and all that."

  Poirot murmured, "Ahl" again.

  Then he remarked, "Isee that you have cut your chin."

  Hugh put his hand up.

  "Yes, quite a nasty gash. Father startled me one day when I was

  shaving. I'm a bit nervy these days, you know.

  And I've had a bit of a rash over my chin and neck. Makes shaving

  difficult."

  Poirot said, "You should use a soothing cream."

  "Oh, I do. Uncle George gave me one."

  He gave a sudden laugh.

  "We're talking like a woman's beauty parlor. Lotions, soothing creams,

  patent pills, eye trouble. What does it all amount to? What are you

  getting at, M. Poirot?"

  Poirot said quietly, "Iam trying to do the best I can for Diana

  Maberly."

  Hugh's mood changed. His face sobered. He laid a hand on Poirot's arm.

  "Yes, do what you can for her. Tell her she's got to forget. Tell her

  that it's no good hoping. Tell her some of the things I've told you.

  Tell her-oh, tell her for God's sake to keep away from mel That's the

  only thing she can do for me now. Keep away-and try to forgetl"

  "Have you courage, Mademoiselle? Great courage? You will need it."

  Diana cried sharply, "Then it's true. It's true? He is mad?"

  Hercule Poirot said, "I am not an alienist, Mademoiselle. It is not I

  who can say, 'This man is mad."This man is sane."'

  Slie came closer to him.

  "A(ral Clian(lier thinks Hxigh is mad. George Frobislier thinks he is

  mad. Hugh himself thinks he is mad-" l'oirot was watclrig her.

  "And you, Mademoiselle?"

  "I? I say he isn't madl That's why-" She stopped.

  "That is why you came to me?"

  "Yes. I couldn't have had any other reason for coming to you, could I?"

  "That," said Hercule Poirot, "is exactly what I have been asking myself,

  Mademoiseliel"

  "I don't understand you."

  "Who is Stephen Graham?"

  She stared, "Stephen Graham? Oh, he's-he's just someone."

  She caught him by the arm.

  "What's in your mind? What are you thinking about?

  You just stand there-behind that great mustache of yours-blinking your

  eyes in the sunlight, and you don't tell me anything. You're making me

  afraid-horribly afraid. Why are you making me afraid?"

  "Perhaps'," said Poirot, "because I am afraid myself."

  The deep gray eyes opened wide, stared up at him. She said in a

  whisper:

  "What are you afraid of?"

  Hercule Poirot sighed-a deep sigh.

  He said, "It is much easier to catch a murderer than it is to prevent a

  murder."

  Slie cried out, "Murder? Don't use that word."

  "Nevertheless," said Hercule Poirot, "I do use it."

  He altered his tone, speaking quickly and authoritatively.

  "Mademoiselle, it is necessary that both you and I should pass the night

  at Lyde Manor. I look to you to arrange the matter. You can do that?"

  "I- yes-I suppose so. But why-?"

  "Because there is no time to lose. You have told me that you have

  courage. Prove that courage now. Do what I ask and make no questions

  about it."

  She nodded without a word and turned away.

  Poirot followed her into the house after the lapse of a moment or two.

  He heard her voice in the library and the voices of three men. He

  passed up the broad staircase.

  There was o one on the upper floor.

  He found Hugh Chandler's room easily enough. In the corner of the room

  was a fitted washbasin with hot and cold water. Over it, on a glass

  shelf, were various tubes and pots and bottles.

  Hercule Poirot went quickly and dexterously to work....

  What he had to do did not take him long. He was downstairs again in the

  hall when Diana came out of the library, looking flushed and rebellious.

  "It's all right," she said.

  Admiral Chandle
r drew Poirot into the library and closed the door. He

  said: "Look here, M. Poirot. I don't like this."

  "What don't you like, Admiral Chandler?"

  "Diana has been insisting that you and she should both spend the night

  here. I don't want to be inhospitable-"

  "It is not a question of hospitality."

  "As I say, I don't like being inhospitable-but, frankly, I don't like

  it, M. Poirot. I-I don't want it. And I don't understand the reason

  for it. What good can it possibly do?"

  "Shall we say that it is an experiment I am trying?"

  "What kind of an experiment?"

  "That, you will pardon me, is my business."

  "Now, look here, M. Poirot, I didn't ask you to come here in the first

  place-"

  Poirot interrupted.

  "Believe me, Admiral, I te understand and appreciate your point of view.

  I am'ffeire simply and solely because of the obstinacy of a girl in

  love. You have told me certain things. Colonel Frobisher has told me

  certain things. Hugh himself has told me certain things. Now-I want to

  see for myself."

  "Yes, but see what? I tell you, there's nothing to seel I lock Hugh

  into Is room every night and that's that."

  "And yet-sometimes-he tells me that the door is not locked in the

  morning?"

  "What's that?"

  "Have you not found the door unlocked yourself?"

  Chandler was frowning.

  "I always imagined George had unlocked- What do you mean?"

  "Where (lo you leave the key-in the lock?"

  "No, I lay it on the chest outside. I, or Geoge, or Withers, the valet,

  take it from there in the morning.

  We've told Withers it's because Hugh walks in his sleep.

  ... I dare say lie knows more-but he's a faithful fellow, been with me

  for years."

  "Is there another key?"

  "Not that I know of."

  "One (:otild have been made."

  "But who-"

  "Yovir son thinks that he himself has one hidden somewhere, although he

  is unaware of it in his waking state."

  ('olonel Frobisher, speaking from the far end of the rooni, said, "I

  don't like it, Charles. The girl-"

  Admiral Chandler said quickly, "Just what I was thinking. The girl

  mustn't come back with you. Come back yourself, if you like."

  Poirot said, "Why don't you want Miss Maberly here tonight?"

  Frobisher said in a low voice, "It's too risky. In these cases-" He

  stopped.

  Poirot said, "Hugh is devoted to her....

  Chan(lier cried, "That's just whyl Damn it all, man, everytltig's

  topsy-turvy where a madman's concerned.

  Hugh knows that himself. Diana mustn't come here."

  "As to that," said Poirot, "Diana must decide for herself."

  He went out of the library. Diana was waiting outside in the car. Slie

  called out, "We'll get what we want for the night and be back in time

  for dinner."

  As they drove down the long drive, Poirot repeated to her the

  conversation he had just held with the Admiral and Colonel Frobisher.

  She laughed scornfully.

  "Do they tlk Hugh would hurt me?"

  By way of reply l'oirot asked her if she would mind stopping at the

  chemist's in the village. He had forgotten, he said, to pack a

  toothbrush.

  The chemist's shop was in the middle of the peaceful village street.

  Diana waited outside in the car. It struck her that Hercule Poirot was

  a long time choosing a toothbrush.

  In the big bedroom with the heavy Elizabethan oak furniture, Hercule

  Poirot sat and waited. Thici-e w;ts nothing to (lo but wait. All Is

  arrangements wei-e a(le.

  It was toward early morning that the suos came.

  At the sound of footsteps outside l'o-ot drew I-)itck tile bolt and

  opened the door. 'I'liere were two nieti in the I)assage outside-tA,o

  middle-aged men wlio looked older than their years. 'I'lie Admiral was

  stern-faced and gi-im, Colonel Frobisher twitched and trembled.

  Chandler said simply, "Will you come with us, M.

  Poirot?"

  There was a huddled figure lying outside Diana Maberly's bedroom door.

  The light fell on a rtinipled, tawny head. Hugh Chan(fler lay there,

  breatlllg stertorously.

  He was in his dressing-gown and slipl)ej-s. In Is right hand was a

  sharply curved, shining knife. Not all of it was shining-here and there

  it was obscured by red glistening patches.

  Hercule Poirot exclaimed softly, "Mon Dieu!"

  Frol3islier said sharply, "She's all right. He hasn't touched her."

  He raised his voice and called, "Dianal It's usl Let us inl"

  Poirot heard the Admiral groan and mutter under his breath, "My boy. My

  poor boy."

  There was a sound of bolts being drawn. The door opened anel Diana

  stood there. Her face was dead white.

  She faltered out, "What's happened? 'I'liei-e w;ts soeone-trying to get

  in-I heard them-feeling the (loor-the hati(lle-s(:rzttching on the

  panels- Ohl it was awful . . .

  like an animal ......

  Frobisher said sharply, "Thank God your door -was locked!"

  "M. Poirot told me to lock it."

  Poirot said, "Lift him ul) and bring him inside."

  The two men stooped and raised the unconscious man.

  Diana caught her breath with a little gasp as they passed her.

  "Hugh? Is it Hugh? What's that-on his hands?"

  Hugh Chandler's hands were sticky and wet with a brownish red stain.

  Diana said breathily, "Is that blood?"

  l'oirot looked inquiringly at the two men.

  The Admiral nodded. He said, "Not human, thank Godl A cat! I found it

  downstairs in the hall. Throat cut. Afterward he must have come up

  here-"

  "Here?" Diana's voice was low with horror. "To me?"

  The man on the chair stirred-muttered. They watched him, fascinated.

  Hugh Chandler sat up. He blinked.

  "Hullo," his voice was dazed-hoarse. "What's happened? Why am I-?"

  He stopped. He was staring at the knife which he held still clasped in

  his hand.

  He said in a slow, thick voice, "What have I done?"

  His eyes went from one to the other. They rested last on Diana,

  shrinking back against the wall.

  He said quietly, "Did I attack Diana?"

  His father shook his head.

  Hugh said, "Tell me what has happened? I've got to know!

  -They told him-told him unwillingly-haltingly. His quiet perseverance

  drew it out of them.

  Outside the window the sun was coming up. Hercule Poirot drew a curtain

  aside. The radiance of dawn came into the room.

  Hugh Chandler's face was composed, his voice was steady.

  He said, "I see."

  Then he got up. He smiled and stretched himself. His voice was quite

  natural as he said:

  "Beautiful morning, what? Think I'll go out in the woods and try to get

  a rabbit."

  He went out of the room and left them staring after him.

  Then the Admiral started forward. Frobisher caught him by the arm.

  "No, Charles, no. It's the best way-for him, poor devil, if for nobody

  else."

  Diana had thrown herself sobbing on the bed.

  Admiral Cliandler said,
his voice coing unevenly, "You're right,

  George-you're right, I know. The boy's got guts. . . ."

  Frobisher said, and his voice too was broken, "He's a man. . . ."

  There was a moment's silence and then Chandler said: "Dainn it, where's

  that cursed foreigner?"

  In the gun room, Hugh Chandler had lifted his gun from the rack and was

  in the act of loading it when Hercule Poirot's hand fell on his

  shoulder.

  Hercule Poirot's voice said one word and said it with a strange

  authority.

  He said, "Nol" Hugh Chandler stared at him.

  He said in a thick, angry voice, "Take your hands off me. Don't

  interfere. -There's going to be an accident, I tell you. It's the only

  way out."

  Ag, Hercule Poirot repeated that one word: "No."

  "Don't you realize that if it hadn't been for the accident of her door

  being locked, I should have cut Diana's tliroatDiana's!-with that

  knife?"

  "I realize nothing of the kind. You would not have killed Miss

  Maberly."

  "I killed the cat, didn't I?"

  "No, you did not kill the cat. You did not kill the parrot. You did

  not kill tile sheep."

  Hugh stared at him. He demanded, "Are you mad, or am I?"

  Hercule Poirot replied, "Neither of us is mad."

  It was at that moment that Admiral Chandler and Colonel Frobisher came

  in. Behind them came Diana.

  Hugh Chandler said in a weak, dazed voice, "This chap says I'm not mad."

  Hercule Poirot said, "I am happy to tell you that you are entirely and

  completely sane."

  Hugh laughed. It was a laugh such as a lunatic might popularly be

  supposed to give.

  "That's (lanitied funnyl It's sane, is it, to cut the throats of sheep

  and other animals? I was sane, was I, when I killed that parrot? And

  the cat tonight?"

  "I tell you you did not kill the sheep-or the parrot-or the cat."

  ""Then who did?"

  "Someone who has had at heart the sole object of proving you insane. On

  each occasion you were given a heavy soporific and a bloodstained knife

  or razor was planted by you. It was someone else whose bloody hands

  were washed in your basin."

  "But why?"

  "In order that you should do what you were just about to do when I

  stopped you."

  Hugh stared. Poirot turned to Colonel Frobisher.

  "Colonel Frobisher, you lived for many years in India. Did you never

  come across cases where persons were deliberately driven mad by the

  administration of drugs?"

  Colonel Frobisher's face lit up.

  He said, "Never came across a case myself, but I've heard of them oflen

  enough. Datura poisoning. It ends by driving a person insane."

  "Exactly. Well, the active principle of the datura is very closely

  allied to, if it is not actually, the alkaloid atroI)ine-whic is also

  obt;tined from belladonna or deadly nightslia(le. Belladonna

  preparations are fairly common and atrol)ine stilphate itself is

  prescribed freely for eye ti-eatnieilLS. ],y duplicating a prescription

  and getting it m;&(ic ul) in different places a large quantity of the

  poison could be obtained without arousing suspicion. The alkaloid could

  be extracted from it and then introduced into, say, a soothing

  shaving-cream. Applied externally it would cause a rash. This would

  soon lead to abrasions in shaving and thus the drug would be continually