"You own this place?"
The Countess's eye became slightly evasive.
"Certainly," she replied.
"But you have a partner?"
"Who told you that?" asked the Countess sharply.
"Is your partner Paul Varesco?"
"Ohl Paul Varescol What an ideal"
"He has a bad-a criminal record. Do you realize that you have criminals
frequenting this place?"
The Countess burst out laughing.
"There speaks the bon bourgeois! Naturally I realizel Do you not see
that that is half the attraction of this place?
These young people from Mayfair-they get tired of seeing their own kind
round them in the West End. They come here, they see the criminals; the
thief, the blackmailer, the confidence trickster-perhaps, even, the
murderer-the
man who will be in the Sunday papers next weekl It is exciting,
that-they think they are seeing lifel So does the prosperous man who all
the week sells the knickers, the stockings, the corsetsf What a change
from his respectable life and his respectable friendsl And then, a
further thrill -there at a table, stroking his mustache, is the
Inspector from Scotland Yard-an Inspector in tailsl"
"So you knew that?" said Poirot softly.
Her eyes met his and she smiled.
"Mon cher ami, I am not so simple as you seem to suppose I "
"Do you also deal in drugs here?"
"Ah, fa non!" -I'he Countess spoke sharply. "That would be an
abominationl"
Poirot looked at her for a moment or two, then he sighed.
"I believe you," he said. "But in that case it is all the more
necessary that you tell me who really owns this place."
:,l own it," she snapped.
'On paper, yes. But there is someone behind you."
" Do you know, mon ami, I find you altogether too curious? Is he not
much too curious, Dou-dou?"
Her voice dropped to a coo as she spoke the last words and she threw the
duck bone from her plate to the big black hound who caught it with a
ferocious snap of the jaws.
"What is it that you call that animal?" asked Poirot, diverted.
:'Ciest mon petit Dou-dou!"
'But it is ridiculous, a name like thatl"
"But he is adorabler He is a police dogl He can do anything-anything-
Waitl"
She rose, looked round her, and suddenly snatched up a plate with a
large succulent steak which had just been deposited before a daier at a
near-by table. She crossed to the marble niche and 1)ut the plate down
in front of the dog, at the same time uttering a few words in Russian.
Cerberus gazed in front of him. The steak might not
have existed.
"You see? And it is not just a matter of minutes! No, he will remain
like that for hours if need bel"
Then she murmured a word and like lightning Cerberus bent his long neck
and the steak disappeared as though by magic.
Vera Rossakoff flung her arms around the dog's neck and embraced him
passionately, rising on tiptoe to do so.
"See how gentle he can bel" she cried. "For me, for Alice, for his
friends-they can do what they likel But one has but to give him the word
and prestol I can assure you he would tear a-police inspector, for
instance-into little piecest Yes, into little piecest" She burst out
laughing.
"I would have but to say the word-"
Poirot interrupted hastily. He mistrusted the Countess's sense of
humor. Inspector Stevens might be in real danger.
"Professor Liskeard wants to speak to you."
The Professor was standing reproachfully at her elbow.
"You took my steak," he complained. "Why did you take my steak? It was
a good steaki"
"Thursday night, old man," said japp. "That's when the balloon goes up.
It's Andrews' pigeon, of course-Narcotic Squad-but he'll be delighted to
have you horn in.
No, thanks, I won't have any of your fancy sirops. I have to take care
of my stomach. Is that whisky I see over there?
That's more the ticketl"
Setting his glass down, he went on:
"We've solved the problem, I think. There's another way out of that
club-and we've found it!"
"Where?"
"Behind the grill. Part of it swings round."
"But surely you would see-"
"No, old boy. When the raid started, the lights went out-switched off
at the main-and it took us a minute or two to get them turned on again.
Nobody got out the front way because it was being watched, but it's
clear now that somebody could have nipped out by the secret way with
the doings. We've been examining the house behind the club-and that's
how we tumbled to the trick."
"And you proposed to do-what?"
japp winked. "Let it go according to plan-the police appe-ai, the
lights go out-and somebody's waiting on the other side of that secret
door to see who comes through.
This time we've got 'eml"
"Why Thursday ?",
Again japp winked. "We've got the Golconda pretty well taped now. There
will be stuff going out of there on Thursday. Lady Carrington's
emeralds."
"You permit," said Poirot, "that I, too, make one or two little
arrangements?"
Sitting at his usual small table near the entrance on Thursday night,
Poirot studied his surroundings. As usual Hell was going with a swing?
The Countess was even more flamboyantly made up than usual, if that was
possible. She was being very Russian tonight, clapping her hands and
screaming with laughter. Paul Varesco had arrived. Sometimes he wore
faultless evening dress, sometimes, as tonight, he chose to present
himself in a kind of apache get-up, tightly buttoned coat, scarf round
the neck. He looked vicious and attractive. Detaching himself from a
stout middle-aged woman plastered with diamonds, he leaned over Alice
Cunniniham, who was sitting at a table writing busily in a little
notebook, and asked her to dance. The stout woman scowled at Alice and
looked at Varesco with adoring eyes.
There was no adoration in Miss Cunningham's eyes.
They gleamed with pure scientific interest, and Poirot caught fragments
of their conversation as they danced past him. She had progressed
beyond the nursery governess and was now seeking information about the
matron at Paul's preparatory school.
When the music stopped, she sat down by Poirot, looking happy and
excited.
"Most interesting," she said. "Varesco will be one of the most
important cases in my book. The symbolism is unmistakable. Trouble
about the vests for instance-for vest read hair shirt with all its
associations-and the whole thing becomes quite plain. He's a definitely
criminal tvpe but a cure can be effected-"
"That she can reform a rake," said Poirot, "has always been one of
woman's dearest illusionsl" Alice Cunningham looked at him coldly.
"There is nothing personal about this, M. Poirot."
"There never is," said Poirot. "It is always pure disinterested
altruism-but the object of it is usually an attractive member of the
opposite sex. Are you
interested, for instance, in where I went to
school, or what was the attitude of the matron to me?"
"You are not a criminal type," said Miss Cunningham.
"Do you know a criminal type when you see one?"
"Certainly I do."
Professor Liskeard joined them. He sat down by Poirot.
"Are you talking about criminals? You should study the criminal code of
Hammurabi, M. Poirot. 1800 b.c.
Most interesting. The man who is caught stealing during a fire shall be
thrown into the fire."
He stared pleasurably ahead of him toward the electric grill.
"And there are older, Summerian laws. If a wife hateth her husband and
saith unto him 'Thou are not my husband,' they shall throw her ilito the
river. Cheaper and easier than the divorce court. But if a husband
says that to his wife he only has to pay her a certain measure of
silver.
Nobody throws him in the river."
"The same old story," said Alice Cunningham. "One law for the man and
one for the woman."
"Women, of course, have a greater appreciation of monetary value," said
the Professor thoughtfully. "You know," he added, "I like this place. I
come here most evenings. I don't have to pay. The Countess arranged
that-very nice of lier-in consideration of my having advised her about
the decorations, she says. Not that they're anything to do with me
really-I'd no idea what she was asking me questions for-and naturally
she and the artist have got everything quite wrong. I hope nobody will
ever know I had the remotest connection with the dreadful things. I
should never live it down. But she's a wonderful woman-rather like a
Babylonian, I always think. The Babylonians were good women of
business, you know -"
The Professor's words were drowned in a sudden chorus.
The word "Police" was heard-women rose to their feet, there was a babel
of sound. The lights went out and so did the electric grill.
As an undertone to the turmoil, the Professor's voice went on tranquilly
reciting various excerpts from the laws of Hammurabi.
When the lights went on again, Hercule Poirot was halfway up the wide,
shallow steps. The police officers by the door saluted him, and he
passed out into the street and strolled to the corner. Just around the
corner, pressed against the wall, was a small and odoriferous man with a
red nose. He spoke in an anxious, husky whisper.
"I'm 'ere, guv'nor. Time for me to do my stuff?"
"Yes. Go on."
: "There's an awful lot of coppers aboutl"
,:That is all right. They've been told about you."
I 'ope they won't interfere, that's all?"
"They will not interfere. You're sure you can accomplish what you have
set out to do? The animal in question is both large and fierce."
" ' E won't be fierce to me," said the little man confidently. "Not
with what I've got 'erel Any dog'll follow me to hell for it!"
"In that case," murmured Hercule Poirot, "he has to follow you out of
Hell!"
In the small hours of the morning the telephone rang.
Poirot picked up the receiver.
japp's voice said, "You asked me to ring you."
"Yes, indeed. Eh bien?"
"No dope-we got the emeralds."
"Where?"
"In Professor Liskeard's pocket."
"Professor Liskeard?"
"Surprises you, too? Frankly I don't know what to think.
He looked as astonished as a baby, stared at them, said he hadn't the
faintest idea how they got in his pocket, and dammit, I believe he was
speaking the truthl Varesco could have slipped them into his pocket
easily enough in the blackout. I can't see a man like old Liskeard
being mixed up in this sort of business. He belongs to all these
highfalutin' societies. Why, he's even connected with the British
Museuml The only thing he ever spends money on is books, and musty old
secondhand books at that. No, he doesn't fit. I'm beginning to think
we're wrong about the whole thing-there never has been any dope in that
club."
"Oh, yes there has, my friend. It was there tonight. Tell me, did no
one come out through your secret way?"
"Yes, Prince Henry of Scandenberg and his equerry-he only arrived in
England yesterday. Vitamian Evans, the Cabinet Minister (devil of job
being a Labour Minister, you have to be so carefull Nobody minds a Tory
politician spending money on riotous living because the taxpayers think
it's his own money-but when it's a Labour man the public feel it's their
money he's spendingl And so it is, in a manner of speaking.), Lady
Beatrice Viner was the lastshe's getting married the day after tomorrow
to the priggish young Duke of Leominster. I don't believe any of that
lot were mixed up in this."
"You believe rightly. Nevertheless, the dope was in the club and
someone took it out of the club."
"Who did?"
"I did, mon ami," said Poirot, softly.
He replaced the receiver' cutting off japp's spluttering noises, as a
bell trilled out. 4e went and opened the front door. The Countess
Rossakoff sailed in.
"If it were not that we are, alas, too old, how compromising this would
bel" she exclaimed. "You see, I have come, as you told me to do in your
note. There is, I think, a policeman behind me, but he can stay in the
street. And now, my friend, what is it?"
Poirot gallantly relieved her of her fox. rs.
"Why did you put those emeralds in Professor Liskeard's pocket?" he
demanded. "Ce nest pas gentille, ce que vous avez fait la!"
The Countess's eyes opened wide.
"Naturally, it was in your pocket I meant to put the emeraldsl"
"Oh, in my pocket?"
"Certainly. I cross hurriedly to the table where you usually sit-but
the lights they are out and I suppose, by inadvertence, I put them in
the Professor's pocket."
"And why did you wish to put stolen emeralds in my pocket?"
"It seemed to mel had to think quickly, you understand-the best thing to
dol"
"Really, Vera, you are impayable!"
"But, dear friend, consider! The police arrive, the lights go out (our
little private arrangement for the patrons who must not be embarrassed)
and a hand takes my bag off the table. I snatch it back, but I feel
through the velvet something hard inside. I slip my hand in, I find
what I know by touch to be jewels, and I comprehend at once who has put
them therel"
"Oh, you do?"
"Of course I dol It is that salaud! It is that lizard, that monster,
that double-faced, double-crossing squirming adder of a pig's son, Paul
Varesco."
"The man who is your partner in Hell?"
"Yes, yes, it is he who owns the place, who put up the money. Until now
I do not betray him-I can keep faith, mel But now that he double-crosses
me, that he tries to embroil me with the police-ahl now I will spit his
name out -yes, spit it outl"
"Calm yourself," said Poirot, "and come with me into the next room."
He opened the door. It was a small room and seemed for a moment to be
comp
letely filled with DOG. Cerberus had looked outsize even in the
spacious premises of Hell.
In the tiny dinin2,-room of Poirot's service flat there seemed nothing
else but Cerberus in the room. There was
also, however, the small and odoriferous man.
"We've turned up here according to plan, guv'nor," said the little man
in a husky voice.
"Dou-doul" screamed the Countess. "My angel Doudoul"
Cerberus beat the floor with his tail-but he did not move.
"Let me introduce you to Mr. William Higgs," shouted Poirot, above the
thunder of Cerberus's tail. "A master in his profession. During the
brouhaha tonight," went on Poirot, "Mr. Higgs induced Cerberus to
follow him up out of Hell."
"You induced him?" The Countess stared incredulously at the small
ratlike figure. "But how? How?"
Mr. Higgs dropped his eyes bashfully.
., 'Ardly like to say afore a lady. But there's things no dogs won't
resist. Follow me anywhere a dog will if I want 'im to. Of course you
understand it won't work the same way with bitches. No, that's
different, that is."
The Countess Rossakoff turned on Poirot.
"But why? Why?"
Poirot said slowly, "A dog trained for the purpose will carry an article
in his mouth until he is commanded to loose it. He will carry it if
need be for hours. Will you now tell your dog to drop what he holds?"
Vera Rossakoff stared, turned, and uttered two crisp words.
The great jaws of Cerberus opened. Then it was really alarming.
Cerberus's tongue dropped out of his mouth!
Poirot stepped forward. He picked up a small package encased in pink
spongebag rubber. He unwrapped it. Inside it was a packet of white
powder.
"What is it?" the Countess demanded sharply.
Poirot said softly, "Cocaine. Such a small quantity, it would seem-but
enough to be worth thousands of pounds to those willing to pay for it.
Enough to bring ruin and misery to several hundred people."
She caught her breath. She cried out:
"And you think that I-but it is not sol I swear to you
it is not sol In the past I have amused myself with the jewels, the
bibelots, the little curiosities-it all helps one to live, you
understand. And what I feel is, why not? Why should one person own a
thing more than another?"
"Just what I feel about dogs," Mr. Higgs chimed in.
"You have no sense of right or wrong," said Poirot, sadly, to the
Countess.
She went on: "But drugs-that, no! For there one causes
. degenerationl I had no idea-no faintest idea misery, pain,
-that my so charming, so innocent, so delightful little Hell was being
used for that purpose!"
"I agrees with you about dope," said Mr. Higgs. "Doping of
greyhounds-that's dirty, that isl I wouldn't never have nothing to do
with anything like that, and I never ,ave 'adl"
"But say you believe me, my friend," implored the Countess.
"But of course I believe youl Have I not taken time and trouble to
convict the real organizer of the dope racket.
Have I not performed the twelfth Labor of Hercules and brought Cerberus
up from Hell to prove my case? For I tell you this, I do not like to
see my friends framed-yes, framed -for it was you who were intended to
take the rap if things went wrongl It was in your handbag the emeralds
would have been found and if anyone had been clever enough (like me) to
suspect a hiding-place in the mouth of a sayage dog-eh bien, he is your
dog, is he not? Even if he has accepted la petite Alice to the point of
Mrs McGinty's Dead / the Labours of Hercules (Agatha Christie Collected Works) Page 26