water for tea.
A little way apart Squadron Leader Loftus was giving
his verdict.
"There's no mark or wound on him. As I said he
must have hit his head against the top."
"You're satisfied he died naturally?" asked Mr.
Parker Pyne.
There was something in his voice that made the doc-tor
look at him quickly.
"There's only one other possibility."
"Yes?"
"Well, that someone hit him on the back of the head
with something in the nature of a sandbag." His voice
sounded apologetic.
"That's not very likely," said Williamson, the other
Air Force officer. He was a cherubic looking youth. "I
mean, nobody could do that without our seeing."
"If we were asleep?" suggested the doctor.
THE GATE OF BAGHDAD
127
"Fellow couldn't be sure of that," pointed out the
other. "Getting up and all that would have roused
someone or other.' '
"The only way," said General Poli, "would be for
anyone sitting behind him. He could choose his moment
and need not even rise from his seat."
"Who was sitting behind Captain Smethurst?'" asked
the doctor.
O'Rourke replied readily.
"Hensley, sirmso that's no good. Hensley was
Smethurst's best pal."
There was a silence. Then Mr. Parker Pyne's voice
rose with quiet certainty.
"I think," he said, "that Flight Lieutenant William-
son has something to tell us."
"I, sir? I--well--"
"Out with it, Williamson," said O'Rourke.
"It's nothing, reallymnothing at all."
"Out with it."
"It's only a scrap of conversation I overheard--at
Rutbah--in the courtyard. I'd got back into the six-wheeler
to look for my cigarette case. I was hunting
about. Two fellows were just outside talking. One of
them was Smethurst. He was saying--"
He paused.
"Come on, man, out with it."
"Something about not wanting to let a pal down. He
sounded very distressed. Then he said: 'I'll hold my
tongue till Baghdadmbut not a minute afterwards.
You'll have to get out quickly.'"
"And the other man?"
"I don't know, sir. I swear I don't. It was dark and he
only said a word or two and that I couldn't catch."
"Who amongst you knows Smethurst well?"
"I don't think the wordsmapalcould refer to any
128
Agatha Christie
one but Hensley," said O'Rourke slowly. "I knew
Smethurst, but very slightly. Williamson is new out--so
is Squadron Leader Loftus. I don't think either of them
have ever met him before."
Both men agreed.
"You, General?"
"I never saw the young man until we crossed the
Lebanon in the same car from Beirut."
"And that Armenian rat?"
"He couldn't be a pal," said O'Rourke with decision.
"And no Armenian would have the nerve to kill anyone."
"I have, perhaps, a small additional piece of evidence,''
said Mr. Parker Pyne.
He repeated the conversation he had had with Smethurst
in the caf at Damascus.
He made use of the phrase--"don't like to go back on
a pal," said O'Rourke thoughtfully. "And he was worried.
' '
"Has no one else anything to add?" asked Mr.
Parker Pyne.
The doctor coughed.
"It may have nothing to do with it--" he began.
He was encouraged.
"It was just that I heard Smethurst say to Hensley,
'You can't deny that there is a leakage in your department.'"
"When was this?"
"Just before starting from Damascus yesterday
morning. I thought they were just talking shop. I didn't
imagine--" He stopped.
"My friends, this is interesting," said the General.
"Piece by piece you assemble the evidence."
"You said a sandbag, doctor," said Mr. Parker
Pyne. "Could a man manufacture such a weapon?"
"Plenty of sand," said the doctor drily. He took
THE GATE OF BAGHDAD
129
some up in his hand as he spoke.
"If you put some in a sock," began O'Rourke and
hesitated.
Everyone remembered two short sentences spoken by
Hensley the night before.
"Always carry spare socks. Never know."
There was silence. Then Mr. Parker Pyne said
quietly. "Squadron Leader Loftus, I believe Mr.
Hensley's spare socks are in the pocket of his overcoat
which is now in the car."
Their eyes went for one minute to where a moody
figure was pacing to and from on the horizon. Hensley
had held aloof since the discovery of the dead man. His
wish for solitude had been respected since it was known
that he and the dead man had been friends.
Mr. Parker Pyne went on.
"Will you get them and bring them here?"
The doctor hesitated.
"I don't like--" he muttered. He looked again at that
pacing figure. "Seems a bit low down--"
"You must get them please," said Mr. Parker Pyne.
"The circumstances are unusual. We are marooned
here. And we have got to know the truth. If you will
fetch those socks I fancy we shall be a step nearer."
Loftus turned away obediently.
Mr. Parker Pyne drew General Poli a little aside.
"General, I think it was you who sat across the aisle
from Captain Smethurst."
"That is so."
"Did anyone get up and pass down the car?"
"Only the English lady, Miss Pryce. She went to the
wash place at the back."
"Did she stumble at all?"
"She lurched a little with the movement of the car,
naturally."
"She was the only person you saw moving about?"
130
Agatha Christie
"Yes."
The General looked at him curiously and said, "Who
are you, I wonder? You take command, yet you are not
a soldier."
"I have seen a good deal of life," said Mr. Parker
Pyne.
"You have traveled, eh?"
"No," said Mr. Parker Pyne. "I have sat in an of-fice."
Loftus returned carrying thesocks. Mr. Parker Pyne
took them from him and examined them. To the inside
o! one of them wet sand still adhered.
Mr. Parker Pyne drew a deep breath.
"Now I know," he said.
All their eyes went to the pacing figure on the
horizon.
"I should like to look at the body if I may," said Mr.
Parker Pyne.
He went with the doctor to where Smethurst's body
had been laid down covered with a tarpaulin.
The doctor removed the cover.
"There's nothing to see," he said.
But Mr. Parker Pyne's eyes were fixed on the dead
man's tie.
"So Smethurst was an old Etonian," he said.
Loftus looked surprised.
Then Mr. Parker Pyne surprised him still further.
"What do you know of young Williamson?" he
asked.
"Nothing at all. I
only met him at Beirut. I'd come
from Egypt. But why? Surelym"
"Well, it's on his evidence we're going to hang a man,
isn't it?" said Mr. Parker Pyne cheerfully. "One's got
to be careful."
He still seemed to be interested in the dead man's tie
THE GATE OF BAGHDAD
131
and collar. He unfastened the studs and removed the
collar. Then he uttered an exclamation.
"See that?"
On the back of the collar was a small round blood-stain.
He peered closer down at the uncovered neck.
"This man wasn't killed by a blow on the head, doc-tor,''
he said briskly. "He was stabbed--at the base of
the skull. You can just see the tiny puncture°,
"And I missed it!"
"You'd got your preconceived notion," said Mr.
Parker Pyne apologetically. "A blow on the head. It's
easy enough to miss this. You can hardly see the wound.
A quick stab with a small sharp instrument and death
would be instantaneous. The victim wouldn't even cry
out."
"Do you mean a stiletto? You think the General--"
"Italians and stilettos go together in the popular
fancy-- Hullo, here comes a car!"
A touring car hadappeared over the horizon.
"Good," said O'Rourke as he came up to join them.
"The ladies can go on in that."
"What about our murderer?" asked Mr. Parker
Pyne.
"You mean Hensley--"
"No, I don't mean Hensley," said Mr. Parker Pyne.
"I happen to know that Hensley's innocent."
"Youmbut why?"
"Well, you see, he had sand in his sock."
O'Rourke stared.
"I know, my boy," said Mr. Parker Pyne gently, "it
doesn't sound like sense, but it is. Smethurst wasn't hit
on the head, you see, he was stabbed."
He paused a minute and then went on.
"Just cast your mind back to the conversation I told
132
Agatha Christie
you about--the conversation we had in the cafe. You
picked out what was, to you, the significant phrase. But
it was another phrase that struck me. When I said to
him that I did the Confidence trick he said 'What, you
too?' Doesn't that strike you as rather curious? I don't
know that you'd describe a series of peculations from a
Department as a 'Confidence Trick.' Confidence Trick
is more descriptive of someone like the absconding Mr.
Samuel Long, for instance."
The doctor started O'Rourke said. "Yes--per-haps..."
"I said in jest that perhaps the absconding Mr. Long
was one of our party. Suppose that that is the truth."
"What--but it's impossible!"
"Not at all. What do you know of people besides
their passports and the accounts they give of themselves.
Am I really Mr. Parker Pyne? Is General Poli really an
Italian General? And what of the masculine Miss Pryce
senior who needs a shave most distinctly."
"But he--but Smethurst--didn't know Long?"
"Smethurst is an old Etonian. Long, also, was at
Eton. Smethurst may have known him although he
didn't tell you so. He may have recognised him amongst
us. And if so, what is he to do? He has a simple mind,
and he worries over the matter. He decides at last to say
nothing till Baghdad is reached. But after that he will
hold his tongue no longer."
"You think one of us is Long," said O'Rourke, still
dazed.
He drew a deep breath.
"It must be the Italian fellow--it must Or
what
about
the Armenian?"
"To
make up as a foreigner and get a foreign passport
is really much more difficult than to remain English,"
said Mr. Parker Pyne.
THE GATE OF BAGHDAD
133
"Miss Pryce?" cried O'Rourke incredulously.
"No," said Mr. Parker Pyne. "This is oor man!"
He laid what seemed an almost friendly hand on the
shoulder of the man beside him. But there was nothing
friendly in his voice, and the fingers were vice-like in
their grip.
"Squadron Leader Loftus or Mr. Saruel Long, it
doesn't matter which you call him!"
"But that's impossible--impossible," spluttered
O'
Rourke. "Lo ftus has been in the service for years."
"But you've never met him before, have you? He was
a stranger to all of you. It isn't the real Ioftus, naturally.''
The quiet man found his voice.
"Clever of you to guess. How did you, by the way?"
"Your ridiculous statement that Smethorst had been
killed by bumping his head. O'Rourke put that idea into
your head when we were standing talking in Damascus
yesterday. You thought--how simple! you were the
only doctor with us--whatever you said 'ould be accepted.
You'd got Loftus's kit. You'd got his instruments.
It was easy to select a neat little tool for your
purpose. You lean over to speak to him arid as you are
speaking you drive the little weapon home. You talk a
minute or two longer. It is dark in the car. Who will
suspect?
"Then comes the discovery of the bodY- You give
your verdict. But it does not go as easily as you thought.
Doubts are raised. You fall back on a second line of
defense. Williamson repeats the conversation he has
overheard Smethurst having with you. It is taken to
refer to Hensley and you add a .damaging little invention
of your own about a leakage in Hensley's department.
And then I make a final test. I mention the sand and the
socks. You are holding a handful of sand. I send you to
134
Agatha Christie
find the socks so that we may know the truth. But by
that I did not mean what you thought I meant. I had
already examined Hensley's socks. There was no sand in
either of them. You put it there."
Mr. Samuel Long lit a cigarette.
"I give it up," he said. "My luck's turned. Well, I
had a good run while it lasted. They were getting hot on
my trail when I reached Egypt. I came across Loftus. He
was just going to join up in Baghdad--and he knew
none of them there. It was too good a chance to be
missed. I bought him. It cost me twenty thousand
pounds. What was that to me? Then, by cursed ill luck,
I run into Smethurst--an ass if there ever was one! He
was my fag at Eton. He had a bit of hero worship for me
in those days. He didn't like the idea of giving me away.
I did my best and at last he promised to say nothing till
we reached Baghdad. What chance should I have then?
None at all. There was only one way--to eliminate him.
But I can assure you I am not a murderer by nature. My
talents lie in quite another direction."
His face changed--contracted. He swayed and
pitched forward.
O'Rourke bent over him.
"Probably prussic acid--in the cigarette," said Mr.
Parker Pyne. "The gambler has lost his last throw."
He looked round him--at the wide desert. Th
e sun
beat down on him. Only yesterday they had left Damascus-by
the gate of Baghdad.
"pass not beneath, O Caravan, or pass not singing.
Have you heard
That silence where the birds are dead yet something
pipeth like a bird?"
The House at
Shiraz
It was six in the morning when Mr. Parker Pyne It
Persia after a stop in Baghdad.
The passenger space in the little monoplan
limited, and the small width of the seats was not s
to accommodate the bulk of Mr. Parker Pyne will
thing like comfort. There were two fellow travel
large, florid man whom Mr. Parker Pyne judged
of a talkative habit, and a thin woman with puts
lips and a determined air.
"At any rate," thought Mr. Parker Pyne,
don't look as though they would want to const
professionally."
Nor did they. The little woman was an America'
sionary, full of hard work and happiness, and the
man was employed by an oil company. They had
their fellow traveler a r6sum6 of their lives befo
plane started.
"I am merely a tourist, I am afraid," Mr.
Pyne had said deprecatingly. "I am going to T¢
and Ispahan and Shiraz."
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