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

by Agatha Christie

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  servantl And the gout, tool It is out of date, the gout.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