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

by Agatha Christie

  "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