sent to a reformatory some years ago. When you came out of that
reformatory, you were approached by the man who calls himself General
Grant and offered this post-the post of a 'daughter." There would be
plenty of money, plenty of fun, a good time. All you had to do was to
introduce the , snuff' to your friends, always pretending that someone
else had given it to you. Your 'sisters' were in the same case as
yourself."
He paused and said, "Come now, Mademoiselle-this man must be exposed and
sentenced. After that-"
"Yes, afterward?"
Poirot coughed. He said with a smile, "You shall be dedicated to the
service of the gods."
Michael Stoddart stared at Poirot in amazement.
He said, "General Grant? General Grant?"
"Precisely, mon cher. The whole mise en scine, you know, was what you
would call'very bogus."The Buddhas, the Beares brass, the Indian
servantl And the gout, tool It is out of date, the gout. It is old, old
gentlemen who have the gout-not the fathers of young ladies of nineteen.
"Moreover, I made quite certain. As I go out, I stumble, I clutch at
the gouty foot. So perturbed is the gentleman by what I have been
saying that he did not even notice.
Oh, yes, he is very, very bogus, that Generall Tout de
mime, it is a smart idea. The retired Anglo-Indian General, the
well-known comic figure with a liver and a choleric temper, he settles
dowrmot among other retired Anglo-Indian Army officers-ofi, no, he goes
to a milieu far too expensive for the usual retired Army man.
There are rich people there, people from London, an excellent field to
market the goods.-And who would suspect four lively attractive young
girls? If anything comes out, they will be considered as victims-that
for a certaintyl"
"What was your idea exactly when you went to see the old devil? Did you
want to put the wind up him?"
"Yes. I wanted to see what would happen. I had not long to wait.
Thejirls had their orders. Anthony Hawker, actually one of eir victims,
was to be the scapegoat.
Sheila was to tell me about the flask in the hall. She nearly could not
bring herself to do so-but the other girl rapped out an angry 'Sheila'
at her and she just faltered it out."
Michael Stoddart got up and paced up and down.
He said, "You know, I'm not going to lose sight of that girl. I've got
a pretty sound theory about these adolescent criminal tendencies. If
you look back into the home life, you nearly always find-"
Poirot interrupted him.
He said, "Mon cher, I have the deepest respect for your science. I have
no doubt that your theories will work admirably where Miss Sheila Kelly
is concerned."
"The others, too."
"The others, perhaps. It may be. The only one I am sure about is the
littfe Sheila. You will tame her, not a doubt of iti In truth, she eats
out of your hand already."
Flushing, Michael Stoddart said, "What nonsense you talk, Poirot."
ONE THING LEADS TO ANOTHER, as Hercule Poirot is fond of saying without
much originality.
He adds that this was never more clearly evidenced than in the case of
the stolen Rubens.
He was never much interested in the Rubens. For one thing, Rubens is
not a painter he admires, and then the circumstances of the theft were
quite ordinary. He took it up to oblige Alexander Simpson who was by
way of being a friend of his and for a certain private reason of his own
not unconnected with the classicsl
After the theft, Alexander Simpson sent for Poirot and poured out all
his woes. The Rubens was a recent discovery, a hitherto unknown
masterpiece, but there was no doubt of its authenticity. It had been
placed on display at Simpson's Galleries and it had been stolen in broad
daylight. It was at the time when the unemployed were pursuing their
tactics of lying down on street crossings and penetrating into the Ritz.
A small body of them had entered Simpson's Galleries and lain down with
the slogan displayed of: Art is a Luxury. Feed the Hungry.
The police had been sent for, everyone had crowded round in eager
curiosity, and it was not till the demonstrators had been forcibly
removed by the arm of the law that it was noticed that the new Rubens
had been neatly cut out of its frame and removed alsol
"It was quite a small picture, you see," explained Mr. Simpson. "A man
could put it under his arm and walk out while everyone was looking at
those miserable idiots of unemployed."
-"he men in question, it was discovered, had been paid for their
innocent part in the robbery. They were to demonstrate at Simpson's
Galleries. But they had known
nothing of the reason until afterward.
Hercule Poirot thought that it was an amusing trick but did not see what
he could do about it. The police, he pointed out, could be trusted to
deal with a straightforward robbery.
Alexander Simpson said, "Listen to me, Poirot. I know who stole the
picture and where it is going."
According to the owner of Simpson's Galleries, it had been stolen by a
gang of international crooks on behalf of a certain millionaire who was
not above acquiring works of art at a surprisingly low price-and no
questions askedl The Rubens, sa=pson, would be smuggled over to France
where it Dass into the millionaire's possession. The English and French
police were on the alert, nevertheless Simpson was of the opinion that
they would fail.
"And once it has passed into this dirty dog's possession, it's going to
be more difficult. Rich men have to be treated with respect. That's
where you come in. The situation's going to be delicate. You're the
man for that."
Finally, without enthusiasm, Hercule Poirot was induced to accept the
task. He agreed to depart for France immediately. He was not very
interested in his quest, but because of it, he was introduced to the
case of the Missing Schoolgirl, which interested him very much indeed.
He first heard of it from Chief Inspector japp who dropped in to see him
just as Poirot was expressing approval of his valet's packing.
"Ha," said japi.). "Going to France, aren't you?"
Poirot said, "Slon cher, you are incredibly well informed at Scotland
Yard."
japp chuckled. He said, "We have our spiest Simpson's got you on to
this Rubens business. Doesn't trust us, it seemsl Well, that's neither
here nor there, but what I want you to do is something quite different.
As you're going to Paris anyway, I thought you might as well kill two
birds with one stone. Detective Inspector Hearn's over there
cooperating with the Frenchies-you know
Hearn? Good chap-but perhaps not very imaginative.
I'd like your opinion on the business."
"Wliat is this matter of which you speak?"
"Child's disappeared. It'll be in the papers this evening.
Looks as though she's been kidnaped. Daughter of a Canon down at
Cranchester. King, her name is, Winnie King."
He proceeded with the story.
&nb
sp; Winnie had been on her way to Paris, to join that select and high-class
establishment for English and American girls-Miss Pope's. Winnie had
come up from Cranchester by the early train-had been seen across London
by a member of Elder Sisters, Ltd. who undertook such work as seeing
girls from one station to another, had been delivered at Victoria to
Miss Burshaw, Miss Pope's second in command, and had then, in company
with eighteen other girls, left Victoria by the boat train.
Nineteen girls had crossed the channel, had passed through the customs
at Calais, had got into the Paris train, had lunched in the restaurant
car. But when, on the outskirts of Paris, Miss Burshaw had counted
heads, it was discovered that only eighteen girls could be foundl
"Aha." Poirot nodded. "Did the train stop anywhere?"
"It stopped at Amiens, but at that time the girls were in the restaurant
car and they all say positively that Winnie was with them then. They
lost her, so to speak, on the return journey to their compartments. That
is to say, she did not enter her own compartment with the other five
girls who were in it. They did not suspect anything was wrong, merely
thought she was in one of the two other reserved carriages."
Poirot nodded. "So she was last seen-when exactly?"
"About ten minutes after the train left Amiens." japp coughed modestly.
"She was last seen-er-entering the toilette."
Poirot murmured, "Very natural." He went on: "There is nothing else?"
" Yes, one thing." japp's face was grim. "Her hat was found by the side
of the line-at a spot approximately fourteen miles from Amiens."
"But no body?"
"No body."
Poirot asked, "What do you yourself think?"
"Difficult to know what to thinkl As there's no sign of her body-she
can't have fallen off the train."
"Did the train stop at all after leaving Amiens?"
"No. It slowed up once-for a signal-but it didn't stop, and I doubt if
it slowed up enough for anyone to have jumped off without in.jury:You're
thinking that the kid got a panic and tried to run away? It was her
first term and she might have been homesick, that's true enough, but all
the same she was fifteen and a hilf-a sensible age, and she'd been in
quite good spirits all the journey, chattering away and all that."
Poirot asked, "Was the train searched?"
"Oh, yes, they went right through it before it arrived at the Nord
station. The girl wasn't on the train, that's quite certain."
japp added in an exasperated manner, "She just disappeared-into thin
airl It doesn't make sense. It , s crazyl"
"What kind of a girl was she?"
"Ordinary normal type as far as I can make out."
"I mean-what did she look like?"
"I've got a snap of her here. She's not exactly a budding beauty."
He proffered the snapshot to Poirot, who studied it in silence.
It represented a lanky girl with her hair in two limp plaits. It was
not a posed photograph, the subject had clearly been caught unawares.
She was in the act of eating an apple; her lips were parted, showing
slightly protruding teeth confined by a dentist's plate. She wore
spectacles.
japp said, "Plain-looking kid-but then they are plain at that agel Was
at my dentist's yesterday. Saw a picture in the Sketch of Marcia Gaunt,
this season's beauty. I rememher her at fifteen when I was down at the
Castle over their burglary business. Spotty, awkward, teeth sticking
out, hair all lank and anyhow. They grow into beauties overnight-I
don't know how they do itl It's like a miracle."
Poirot smiled. "Women," he said, "are a miraculous sexl Wliat al)out
the child's family? Have they anything helpful to say?"
,Japl) sl100k his head. "Nothing that's any help. Mother's an invalid.
Poor old Canon King is absolutely bowled over.
He swears that the girl was frightfully keen to go toParis -had been
looking forward to it. Wanted to study painting and music-that sort of
thing. Miss Pope's girls go in for Art with a capital A. As you
probably know, Miss Pope's is a very well-known establishment. Lots of
society girls go there. She's strict-quite a dragon-and very
expensive-and extremely particular whom she takes."
Poirot sighed. "ktiow the type. And Miss Burshaw who took the girls
over from England?"
"Not exactly frantic with brains. Terrified that Miss Pope will say
it's her fault."
Poirot said thoughtfully, "There is no young man in the case?"
.Japp gesticulated toward the snapshot. "Does she look like it?"
"No, she does not. But notwithstanding her appearance, she may have a
romantic heart. Fifteen is not so young."
"Well," said japp, "if a romantic heart spirited her off that train,
I'll take to reading lady novelists."
He looked hopefully at Poirot.
"Nothing strikes you-eh?"
Poirot shook his head slowly.
He said, "They did not, by any chance, find her shoes also by the side
of the line?"
"Shoes? No. Why shoes?"
Poirot murmured, "Just an idea."
Hercule Poirot was just going down to his taxi when the telephone rang.
He took off the receiver.
"Yes?"
japp's voice spoke.
"Glad I've just caught you. It's all off, old man. Found a message at
the Yard when I got back. The girl's turned up.
At the side of the main road fifteen miles from Amiens.
She's dazed and they can't get any coherent story from her.
Doctor says she's been doped-however, she's all right.
Nothing wrong with her."
Poirot said slowly, "So you have, then, no need of my services?"
"Afraid notl In fact-sorrrry you have been trrrroubled. . .
japp laughed at his own witticism and rang off.
Hercule Poirot did not laugh. He put back the receiver slowly. His
face was worried.
Detective Inspector Hearn looked at Poirot curiously.
He said, "I'd no idea you'd be so interested, sir."
Poirot said, "You had word from Chief Inspector japp that I might
consult with you over this matter?"
Hearn nodded. "He said you were coming over on some other business, and
that you'd give us a hand with this puzzle. But I didn't expect you,
now it's all cleared up. I thought you'd be busy on your own job."
Hercule Poirot said, "My own business can wait. It is this affair here
that interests me. You called it a puzzle, and you say it is now ended.
But the puzzle is still there, it seems."
"Well, sir, we've got the child back. And she's not hurt.
That's the main thing."
"But it does not solve the problem of how you got her back, does it?
What does she herself say? A doctor saw her, did he not? What did he
say?"
"Said she'd been doped. She was still hazy with it. Apparently, she
can't remember anything fuch after starting off from Cranchester. All
later events seem to have been wiped out. Doctor thinks she might just
possibly have had slight concussion. There's a bruise on the back of
the bead.
Says that would account for a c
omplete blackout of memory."
Poirot said, "Which is very convenient for-someone!"
Inspector Hearn said in a doubtful voice, "You don't think she is
shamming, sir?"
"Do you?"
"No, I'm sure she isn't. She's a nice kid-a bit young for her age."
"No, she is not shamming." Poirot shook his head. "But I would like to
know how she got off that train. I want to know who is responsible-and
why?"
"As to why, I should say it was an attempt at kidnaping, sir. They
meant to hold her to ransom."
"But they didn't!"
"Lost their nerve with the hue and cry-and planted her by the road
quick."
Poirot inquired skeptically, "And what ransom were they likely to get
from a Canon of Cranchester Cathedral?
English Church dignitaries are not millionaires."
Detective lnsl)ector Hearn said cheerfully, "Made a botch of the whole
thing, sir, in my opinion."
"Ah, that's your opinion."
Hearn said, his face flushing slightly, "What's yours, sir?"
"I want to know how she was spirited off that train."
The policeman's face clouded over.
"That's a real mystery, that is. One minute she was there, sitting in
the dining-car, chatting to the other girls. Five minutes later she's
vanished-hey presto-like a conjuring trick."
"Precisely, like a conjuring trickl Who else was there in the coach of
the train where Miss Pope's reserved compartments were?"
Inspector Hearn nodded.
"That's a good point, sir. That's important. It's particularly
important because it was the last coach on the train and as soon as all
the people were back from the restaurant car, the doors between the
coaches were locked-actually so as to prevent people crowding along to
the restaurant car and demanding tea before they'd had time to clear uJ)
lunch and get ready. Winnie King came back to the coach with the
others-the school had three reserved compartments there."
"And in the other compartment of the coach?"
Hearn pulled out his notebook.
"Miss Jordan and Miss Butters-two middle-aged spinsters going to
Switzerland. Nothing wrong with them, highly respectable, well-known in
Hampshire where they come from. Two French commercial travelers, one
from Lyon, one from Paris. Both respectable middle-aged men.
A young man, lames Elliot, and his wife-flashy piece of goods she was.
He's got a bad reputation, suspected by the police of being mixed up in
some questionable transactions-but has never touched kidnaping. Anyway,
his compartment was searched and there was nothing in his hand luggage
to show that he was mixed up in this. Don't see how he could have been.
Only other person was an American lady, Mrs. Van Snyder, traveling to
Paris. Nothing known about her. Looks okay. That's the lot."
Hercule Poirot said, "And it is quite definite that the train did not
stop after it left Amiens?"
"Absolutely. It slowed (Iown once, but not enough to let anyone jump
off-not without damaging themselves pretty severely and risking being
killed."
Hercule Poirot murmured, "That is what makes the problem so peculiarly
interesting. The schoolgirl vanishes into thin air just outside Amiens.
She reappears from thin air also just outside Amiens. Where has she
been in the meantime?"
Inspector Hearn shook his head.
"It sounds mad, put like that. Ohl By the way, they told me you were
asking something about shoes-the girl's shoes. She had her shoes on all
Mrs McGinty's Dead / the Labours of Hercules (Agatha Christie Collected Works) Page 19