Perry said shortly: "What do you want to see me about?"
Poirot leaned forward, tapped him on the knee, and said with a beaming smile: "Blackmail."
"What the devil do you mean, blackmail?"
"I have heard – the little bird has told me – that on occasions you have been on the point of publishing certain very damaging statements in your so spirituel paper – then, there has been a pleasant little increase in your bank balance – and after all, those statements have not been published."
Poirot leaned back and nodded his head in a satisfied sort of way.
"Do you realise that what you're suggesting amounts to slander?"
Poirot smiled confidently.
"I am sure you will not take offence."
"I do take offence! As to blackmail there is no evidence of my ever having blackmailed anybody."
"No, no, I am quite sure of that. You misunderstand me. I was not threatening you. I was leading up to a simple question. How much?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," said Percy Perry.
"A matter of national importance, M. Perry."
They exchanged a significant glance.
Percy Perry said: "I'm a reformer, M. Poirot. I want to see politics cleaned up. I'm opposed to corruption. Do you know what the state of politics is in this country? The Augean Stables, no more, no less."
"Tiens!" said Hercule Poirot. "You, too, use that phrase."
"And what is needed," went on the editor, "to cleanse those stables is the great purifying flood of Public Opinion."
Hercule Poirot got up. He said: "I applaud your sentiments."
He added: "It is a pity that you do not feel in need of money."
Percy Perry said hurriedly: "Here, wait a sec – I didn't say that exactly…"
But Hercule Poirot had gone through the door.
His excuse for later events is that he does not like blackmailers.
IV
Everett Dashwood, the cheery young man on the staff of The Branch, clapped Hercule Poirot affectionately on the back.
He said: "There's dirt and dirt, my boy. My dirt's clean dirt – that's all."
"I was not suggesting that you were on a par with Percy Perry."
"Damned little bloodsucker. He's a blot on our profession. We'd all down him if we could."
"It happens," said Hercule Poirot, "that I am engaged at the moment on a little matter of clearing up a political scandal."
"Cleaning out the Augean Stables, eh?" said Dashwood. "Too much for you, my boy. Only hope is to divert the Thames and wash away the Houses of Parliament."
"You are cynical," said Hercule Poirot, shaking his head.
"I know the world, that's all."
Poirot said: "You, I think, are just the man I seek. You have a reckless disposition, you are the good sport, you like something that is out of the usual."
"And granting all that?"
"I have a little scheme to put into action. If my ideas are right, there is a sensational plot to unmask. That, my friend, shall be a scoop for your paper."
"Can do," said Dashwood cheerfully.
"It will concern a scurrilous plot against a woman."
"Better and better. Sex stuff always goes."
"Then sit down and listen."
V
People were talking.
In the Goose and Feathers at Little Wimplington.
"Well, I don't believe it. John Hammett, he was always an honest man, he wasn't like some of these political folk."
"That's what they say about all swindlers before they're found out."
"Thousands, they say he made, out of that Palestine Oil business. Just a crook deal, it was."
"Whole lot of 'em tarred with the same brush. Dirty crooks, every one of 'em."
"You wouldn't find Everhard doing that. He's one of the old school."
"Eh, but I can't believe as John Hammett was a wrong 'un. You can't believe all these papers say."
"Ferrier's wife was 'is daughter. Have you seen what it says about her?"
They poured over a much-thumped copy of the X-ray News.
Caesar's wife? We hear that a certain highly-placed political lady was seen in very strange surroundings the other day. Complete with her gigolo. Oh Dagmar, Dagmar, how could you be so naughty?
A rustic voice said slowly: "Mrs Ferrier's not that kind. Gigolo? That's one of these dago skunks."
Another voice said: "You never can tell with women. The whole bunch of 'em wrong 'uns if you ask me."
VI
People were talking.
"But, darling, I believe it's absolutely true. Naomi had it from Paul and he had it from Andy. She's absolutely depraved."
"But she was always so terribly dowdy and proper and opening Bazaars."
"Just camouflage, darling. They say she's a nymphomaniac. Well, I mean! It's all in the X-ray News. Oh, not right out, but you can read between the lines. I don't know how they get hold of these things."
"What do you think of all this political scandal touch? They say her father embezzled the Party funds."
VII
People were talking.
"I don't like to think of it, and that's a fact, Mrs Rogers. I mean, I always thought Mrs Ferrier was a really nice woman."
"Do you think all these awful things are true?"
"As I say, I don't like to think it of her. Why, she opened a Bazaar in Pelchester only last June. I was as near to her as I am to that sofa. And she had such a pleasant smile."
"Yes, but what I say is there's no smoke without fire."
"Well, of course that's true. Oh dear, it seems as though you can't believe in anyone!"
VIII
Edward Ferrier, his face white and strained, said to Poirot: "These attacks on my wife! They're scurrilous – absolutely scurrilous! I'm bringing an action against that vile rag."
Hercule Poirot said: "I do not advise you to do so."
"But these damned lies have got to be stopped."
"Are you sure they are lies?"
"God damn you, yes!"
Poirot said, his head held a little on one side: "What does your wife say?"
For a moment Ferrier looked taken aback.
"She says it is best to take no notice… But I can't do that – everybody is talking."
Hercule Poirot said: "Yes, everybody is talking."
IX
And then came the small bald announcement in all the papers: Mrs Ferrier has had a slight nervous breakdown. She has gone to Scotland to recuperate.
Conjectures, rumours – positive information that Mrs Ferrier was not in Scotland, had never been to Scotland.
Stories, scandalous stories, of where Mrs Ferrier really was…
And again, people talking.
"I tell you Andy saw her. At that frightful place! She was drunk or doped and with an awful Argentine gigolo – Ramon. You know!"
More talking.
Mrs Ferrier had gone off with an Argentine dancer. She had been seen in Paris, doped. She had been taking drugs for years. She drank like a fish.
Slowly the righteous mind of England, at first unbelieving, had hardened against Mrs Ferrier. Seemed as though there must be something in it! That wasn't the sort of woman to be the Prime Minister's wife. "A Jezebel, that's what she is, nothing better than a Jezebel!"
And then came the camera records.
Mrs Ferrier, photographed in Paris – lying back in a Night Club, her arm twined familiarly over the shoulder of a dark, olive-skinned vicious-looking young man.
Other snapshots – half-naked on a beach – her head on the lounge lizard's shoulder.
And underneath: "Mrs Ferrier has a good time…"
Two days later an action for libel was brought against the X-ray News.
X
The case for the prosecution was opened by Sir Mortimer Inglewood, KC. He was dignified and full of righteous indignation. Mrs Ferrier was the victim of an infamous plot – a plot only to be equalled by the famous case
of the Queen's Necklace familiar to readers of Alexandre Dumas. That plot had been engineered to lower Queen Marie Antoinette in the eyes of the populace. This plot, also, had been engineered to discredit a noble and virtuous lady who was in this country in the position of Caesar's wife. Sir Mortimer spoke with bitter disparagement of Fascists and Communists both of whom sought to undermine Democracy by every unfair machination known. He then proceeded to call witnesses.
The first was the Bishop of Northumbria.
Dr Henderson, the Bishop of Northumbria was one of the best-known figures in the English church, a man of great saintliness and integrity of character. He was broadminded, tolerant, and a fine preacher. He was loved and revered by all who knew him.
He went into the box and swore that between the dates mentioned Mrs Edward Ferrier had been staying in the Palace with himself and his wife. Worn out by her activities in good works, she had been recommended a thorough rest. Her visit had been kept a secret so as to obviate any worry from the Press.
An eminent doctor followed the Bishop and deposed to having ordered Mrs Ferrier rest and complete absence from worry.
A local general practitioner gave evidence to the effect that he had attended Mrs Ferrier at the Palace.
The next witness called was Thelma Andersen.
A thrill went round the Court when she entered the witness-box. Everyone realised at once what a strong resemblance the woman bore to Mrs Edward Ferrier.
"Your name is Thelma Andersen?"
"Yes."
"You are a Danish subject?"
"Yes. Copenhagen is my home."
"And you formerly worked at a café there?"
"Yes, sir."
"Please tell us in your own words what happened on the 18th March last."
"There is a gentleman who comes to my table there – an English gentleman. He tells me he works for an English paper – the X-ray News."
"You are sure he mentioned that name – X-ray News?"
"Yes, I am sure – because, you see, I think at first it must be a medical paper. But no, it seems not so. Then he tells me there is an English film actress who wants to find a 'stand-in', and that I am just the type. I do not go to the pictures much, and I do not recognise the name he says, but he tells me, yes, she is very famous, and that she has not been well and so she wants someone to appear as her in public places, and for that she will pay very much money."
"How much money did this gentleman offer you?"
"Five hundred pounds in English money. I do not at first believe – I think it is some trick, but he pays me at once half the money. So then, I give in my notice where I work."
The tale went on. She had been taken to Paris, supplied with smart clothes, and had been provided with an "escort". "A very nice Argentinian gentleman – very respectful, very polite."
It was clear that the woman had thoroughly enjoyed herself. She had flown over to London and been taken there to certain "Night Clubs" by her olive-skinned cavalier. She had been photographed in Paris with him. Some of the places to which she had gone were not, she admitted, quite nice… Indeed, they were not respectable! And some of the photographs taken, they too, had not been very nice. But these things, they had told her, were necessary for "advertisement" – and Señor Ramon himself had always been most respectful.
In answer to questioning she declared that the name of Mrs Ferrier had never been mentioned and that she had had no idea that it was that lady she was supposed to be understudying. She had meant no harm. She identified certain photographs which were shown to her as having been taken of her in Paris and on the Riviera.
There was the hallmark of absolute honesty about Thelma Andersen. She was quite clearly a pleasant, but slightly stupid woman. Her distress at the whole thing, now that she understood it, was patent to everyone.
The defence was unconvincing. A frenzied denial of having any dealings with the woman Andersen. The photos in question had been brought to the London office and had been believed to be genuine. Sir Mortimer's closing speech roused enthusiasm. He described the whole thing as a dastardly political plot, formed to discredit the Prime Minister and his wife. All sympathy would be extended to the unfortunate Mrs Ferrier.
The verdict, a foregone conclusion, was given amidst unparallelled scenes. Damages were assessed at an enormous figure. As Mrs Ferrier and her husband and father left the court they were greeted by the appreciative roars of a vast crowd.
XI
Edward Ferrier grasped Poirot warmly by the hand.
He said: "I thank you, M. Poirot, a thousand times. Well, that finishes the X-ray News. Dirty little rag. They're wiped out completely. Serves them right for cooking up such a scurrilous plot. Against Dagmar, too, the kindliest creature in the world. Thank goodness you managed to expose the whole thing for the wicked ramp it was… What put you on to the idea that they might be using a double?"
"It is not a new idea," Poirot reminded him. "It was employed successfully in the case of Jeanne de la Motte when she impersonated Marie Antoinette."
"I know. I must re-read The Queen's Necklace. But how did you actually find the woman they were employing?"
"I looked for her in Denmark, and I found her there."
"But why Denmark?"
"Because Mrs Ferrier's grandmother was a Dane, and she herself is a markedly Danish type. And there were other reasons."
"The resemblance is certainly striking. What a devilish idea! I wonder how the little rat came to think of it?"
Poirot smiled.
"But he did not."
He tapped himself on the chest.
"I thought of it!"
Edward Ferrier stared. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"
Poirot said: "We must go back to an older story than that of The Queen's Necklace – to the cleansing of the Augean Stables. What Hercules used was a river – that is to say one of the great forces of Nature. Modernise that! What is a great force of Nature? Sex, is it not? It is the sex angle that sells stories, that makes news. Give people scandal allied to sex and it appeals far more than any mere political chicanery or fraud.
"Eh bien, that was my task! First to put my own hands in the mud like Hercules to build up a dam that should turn the course of that river. A journalistic friend of mine aided me. He searched Denmark until he found a suitable person to attempt the impersonation. He approached her, casually mentioned the X-ray News to her, hoping she would remember it. She did.
"And so, what happened? Mud – a great deal of mud! Caesar's wife is bespattered with it. Far more interesting to everybody than any political scandal. And the result – the denouement? Why, Reaction! Virtue vindicated! The pure woman cleared! A great tide of Romance and Sentiment sweeping through the Augean Stables.
"If all the newspapers in the country publish the news of John Hammett's defalcations now, no one will believe it. It will be put down as another political plot to discredit the Government."
Edward Ferrier took a deep breath. For a moment Hercule Poirot came nearer to being physically assaulted than at any other time in his career.
"My wife! You dared to use her -"
Fortunately, perhaps, Mrs Ferrier herself entered the room at this moment.
"Well," she said. "That went off very well."
"Dagmar, did you – know all along?"
"Of course, dear," said Dagmar Ferrier.
And she smiled, the gentle, maternal smile of a devoted wife.
"And you never told me!"
"But, Edward, you would never have let M. Poirot do it."
"Indeed I would not!"
Dagmar smiled. "That's what we thought."
"We?"
"I and M. Poirot."
She smiled at Hercule Poirot and at her husband.
She added: "I had a very restful time with the dear Bishop – I feel full of energy now. They want me to christen the new battleship at Liverpool next month – I think it would be a popular thing to do."
Chapter 6
THE STYM
PHALEAN BIRDS
I
Harold Waring noticed them first walking up the path from the lake. He was sitting outside the hotel on the terrace. The day was fine, the lake was blue, and the sun shone. Harold was smoking a pipe and feeling that the world was a pretty good place.
His political career was shaping well. An under-secretary-ship at the age of thirty was something to be justly proud of. It had been reported that the Prime Minister had said to someone that "young Waring would go far". Harold was, not unnaturally, elated. Life presented itself to him in rosy colours. He was young, sufficiently good-looking, in first-class condition, and quite unencumbered with romantic ties.
He had decided to take a holiday in Herzoslovakia so as to get right off the beaten track and have a real rest from everyone and everything. The hotel at Lake Stempka, though small, was comfortable and not overcrowded. The few people there were mostly foreigners. So far the only other English people were an elderly woman, Mrs Rice, and her married daughter, Mrs Clayton. Harold liked them both. Elsie Clayton was pretty in a rather old-fashioned style. She made up very little, if at all, and was gentle and rather shy. Mrs Rice was what is called a woman of character. She was tall, with a deep voice and a masterful manner, but she had a sense of humour and was good company. Her life was clearly bound up in that of her daughter.
Harold had spent some pleasant hours in the company of mother and daughter, but they did not attempt to monopolise him and relations remained friendly and unexacting between them.
The other people in the hotel had not aroused Harold's notice. Usually they were hikers, or members of a motorcoach tour. They stayed a night or two and then went on. He had hardly noticed any one else – until this afternoon.
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