'approach the question from another side. Everything goes to
show that there was an $ccomplice inside the house. Point
number one, the mysterious poisoning of Mrs Waverly. Point
number two, the letter pinned to the pillow. Point number
three, the putting on of the dock ten minutes - all inside jobs.
And an additional fact that you may not have noticed. There
was no dust in the priest's hole. It had been swept out with a
broom.
'Now then, we have four people in the house. We can
exclude the nurse, since she could not have swept out the
priest's hole, though she could have atteaxied to the other three
points. Four people, Mr and Mrs Waverly, Tredwell, the
butler, and Miss Collins. We will take Miss Collins fa-st. We
have nothing much against herd except that we know very little
about her, that she is obviously an intelligent young woman,
and that she has only been here a year.'
'She lied about the dog, you said,' I reminded him.
'Ah, yes, the dog.' Poirot gave a peculiar smL!e. 'Now let us
pass to Tredwell. There are several suspicious facts against
him. For one thing, the tramp declares that it was Tredwell
who gave him the parcel in the village.'
232
Ii can prove an alibi on that poem..
,0 . Trcdwe
' -ned Mrs waveny, pinned
-. he could have poso
· the pillo ,
mm a o
he , . the other hand, :
-,s,. last degree
priest s s,,-...On ' 't sems unlikely u,
the service of the wavenys. ·
.
·
,t he should co.nmve ,at the abductv of the son of the house
t is not in the ptcture'.
-- n?'
,Well, the ·
'We must proceed logically - however absurd it may see?.
We will briefly consider Mrs Waverly. But she is rich, the
snoneY is hers. It is her money which has ttored this
inapoverished estate. There would he no tnmson for her to
kidnap her son and pay over her money to herself. The
husband, no, is in a different position, lie has a rich wife. It is
as being rich himself- in fact I have a little
not the same thing
of parting with h¢£ money,
idea that the lady is not very fotld
except on a very good pretext. But 1 Waverly, you can see at
once, he is a eur.'
,impossible,' I spluttered.
'blot at all. Who sends away the servants} Mr Waverly. He
can write the notes, drug his wife, put on the hands of the c.,
and establish an excellent alibi for his faithful relmner
Tredwell. Tredwell has never liked Mrs Waverl¥. He is
devoted to his feaster and is willing to ohe¥ his orders
· it. Waverty, Tredwell,
implicitly. There were three of them m
and some friend of WaverlY. That is the mistake the police
made no further inquiries about the maxi who drove
made, they
it. lie was the third nn.
car with the wrong child i. -- -'th tlax curls.
the grey
. . ·
e nea Iy, a 10oy'm
He ctrives tn u,,,----
wavi his hand and
south lodge just at the right moment,
face or the number of the cat' s°
·
e cannot see the child's
obviously th Y. s.,,
a
false trail to Lonaon. ·u u mes to be delivered by a
in arranging for the parcel and note . ··
part man
His master can provide
ronghlootang
gen..c- ' - him, in spt
the unlikely
?se.or the for Mr WaverlY, as soon as the
false moustache
ne wore. r,., ,,
233
qh.byalo?,oc?rs outside, and the ins or ...
runes th .t,a :--t . - pect rushes oK,
Later in the cl,, ... ..... P t s hole, follows him ....
is v,t
--, wacn me inspector is ione ar
,:., 7
,c-, ?' wm we
easy enough to drive ;, 'But
what about the dog?' I asked. 'And Miss Collins lyiag.,
'That
was my little joke. I asked her if there were any toy
dogs in the house, and she said no - but doubtless there
.some - in the nursery! You see, Mr Waverly placed
some toys
m the priest's hole to keep ]ohnnie amused and quiet.'
'M. Po/rot - ' Mr Waverly entered the room - 'have
you
discovered
anyth/ng? Have you any clue to where the boy has
been taken?'
Poirot handed Mm a
piece of paper. 'Here is the address.,
'But this is
a blank sheet.'
'Because I am waiting
for
you to write
it
down
for
..What the -' Mr Waverly's face
turned me.'
I lnow eve . . purple.
rything, monsieur. I
gve you twenty-four hours
to return
the boy. Your ingenuity will be equal
to the task of
explaining his reappearance. Otherw/se, Mrs Waverly will be
informed
of the exact sequence of events.'
Mr Waverly sank down in a chair
and bur/ed Ms if
ce in h/s
hands. 'He is with my old nurse, ten m/les away. He is
happy
and well cared for.'
'I have no doubt of that. iF i did not
believe you to
be a good
father at heart, I should not be
to g/ye you another
chance. '
'The scandal ,
'Exactly.
Your name is an old and honoured one. Do not
jeopardize
it
agaha.
C
ood
evening,
Mr
Waverly.
Ah,
by
the
way,
one word
of
advice.
Always
sweep
in
the
coruera!'
THE KING OF CLUBS
'Truth,' I observed, hying aside the Daily Newsmonger, 'i
stranger than fiction!'
The remark was not, perhaps, an original one. It appeared t,
lincense my friend. Tilting his egg-shaped head on one side, th,
ittle man carefully flied an imaginary fleck of dust from hh
U'carefully creased trousers, and observed: 'How profound
What a thinker is my friend Hastings!'
Without displaying any annoyance at this quite uncailed-fo
gibe, I tapped the sheet I had laid aside.
'You've read this morning's paper?'
'I have. And after reading it, I folded it anew symmetrically
I did not cast it on the floor as you have done, with your sc
lamentable absence of order and method.'
(That is the worst of Poirot. Order and Method are his gods
He goes so far as to attribute all his success to them.)
'Then you saw the account of the murder of Hem3
Reedburn, the impresario? It was that which prompted m
remark. Not only is truth stranger t
han fiction - it is mor
dramatic. Think of that solid middle-class English family, the
Oglanders. Father. and mother, son and daughter, typical of
thousands of families all over this country. The men of the
family go to the city every day; the women look after the house.
Their lives are perfectly peaceful, and utterly monotonous.
Last night they were sitting in their neat suburban drawing-room
at Daisymead, Streatham, playing bridge. Suddenly,
without any warning, the french window bursts open, and a
woman staggers into the room. Her grey satin frock is marked
with a crimson stain. She utters one word, "Murder!" before
she sinks to the ground insensible. It is possible that they
recognize her from her pictures as Valerie Saintclair, the
famous dancer who has lately take London by storm!'
235
'Is this your eloquence, or that of the Daily
inquired Poirot.
'The Daily Newsmonger was in a hurry to go to press: and
contented itself with bare facts. But the dramatic possibides
of the story struck me at once.'
Poirot nodded thoughtfully. 'Wherever there is huan
nature, there is drama. But - it is not always just where ou
think it is. Remember that. Still, I too am interested in the t
since it is liky that I shall be connected with it.'
'Indeed?'
'Yes. A gentleman rang me up this morning, and made an
appointment with me on behalf of Prince Paul of Maurania.'
'But what has that to do with it?'
'You do not read your pretty little English scandal-papers.
The ones with the funny stories, and % little mouse has heard
- "or % little bird would like to know -" See here.'
I followed his short stubby finger along the paragraph:
- whether the foreign prince and the famous dancer are
really aff'mifies! And if the lady likes her new diamond ring!'
'And now to resume your so dramatic narratives' said Poirot.
'Mademoiselle Saintclair had just fainted on the drawing-room
carpet at Daisymead, you remember.'
I shrugged. 'As a result of Mademoiselle's first murmured
words when she came round, the two male Oglanders stepped
out, one to fetch a doctor to attend to the lady, who was
evidently suffering terribly from shock, and the other to the
police-station - whence after telling his story, he accompanied
the police to Mon Isir, Mr Reedbum's magxxificent villa,
which is situated at no great distance from Daisymead. There
they found the great man, who by the way suffers from
somewhat unsavoury reputation, lying in the library with the
back of his head cracked open like an eggshell.'
'I have cramped your style,' said Poirot kindly. 'Forgive me,
I pray... Ah, here is M. le Prince?
Our distinguished visitor was announced under the title of
Count Feodor. He was a strange-looking youth, tall, eager,
with a weak chin, the famous Mauranberg mouth, and the dark
fiery eyes of a fanatic.
236
'M. Poirot?'
My friend bowed.
'Monsieur, I am in terrible trouble, greater than I can well
express - '
'I
Poiro't waved his hand. comprehend your anxiety. Made.
moiselle Saintclair is a very dear friend, is it not so?'
The prince replied simply: 'I hope to make her my wife.'
Piorot sat up in his chair, and his eyes opened.
The prince continued: 'I should not be the first of my famib
to make a morganatic marriage. My brother Alexander has
defied the Emperor. We are living now in more enlightened
free from the old caste-prejudice. Besides, Mademoiselle
Saintclear, in actual fact, is quite my equal in rank. You have
heard hints as to her history?'
'There are many romantic stories of her origin - not an
uncommon thing with famous dancers. I have heard that she
the daughter of an Irish charwoman, also the story which
makes her mother a Russian grand duchess.'
'The first story is, of course, nonsense,' said the young man.
'But the second is true. Valerie, though bound to secrecy, ha
let me guess as much. Besides, she proves it unconsciously in a
thousand ways. I believe in heredity, M. Poirot.'
, 'I too believe in heredity,' said Poirot thoughtfully. 'I have
seen some strange things t connection with it - mo/qui
parle ... But to business, M. le Prince. What do you want of
me? What do you fear? I may speak freely, may I not? Is there
anything to connect Mademoiselle Saintclair with the crime?
She knew Reedburn of course?'
'Yes. He professed to be m love with h .
'And she?'
'She would have nothing to say to him.'
Poirot looked at him keenly. 'Had she any reason to fear
him?'
The young man hesitated. 'There was an incident. You
know Zara, the clairvoyant?'
'She is wonderful. You should consult her some time.
Valerie and I went to see her last week. She read the cards for
237
us. She spoke to Valerie of trouble - of gathering clouds; hen
she turned up the last card - the covering card, they call r. It
was the king of clubs. She said m Valerie: "Beware. Ther is
man who holds you in his power. You fear him - you a,
great danger through him. You know whom I mean?"
was white to the lips. She nodded and said: "Yes, yes, I knt ,.,, Shortly afterwards.we left. Eara's last words to Valerie . :e'
· woma tell me nothi - assured
that all was well. But now, after last night, I am more sure tan
ever that in the king of clubs Valerie saw Reedbum, and tha:
was the man she feared.' . e
The Prince paused abruptly. 'Now you understand my
agitation when I opened the paper this morning. Supposing
Valerie, in a fit of madness - oh, it is impossible!'
Poirot rose from his seat, and patted the young man kindly
on the shoulder.
it in my hands.' 'Do not distress yourself, I beg of you. Leave
'You will go to $treatham? I gather she is still there, at
Daisyraead - prostrated bY the shock.'
'I will go at once.'
'I have arranged matters - through the embassy. You will be
allowed access everywhere.,
'Then we will depart
Au revoir, M. le Prince."' Hastings, you will accompany me?
Mon IXsir was an exceptionally £me villa, thoroughly moden
and comfortable. A short carriage-drive led up to it from the
road, and beautiful gardens extended behind the house for SOFtie acres.
On mentioning Prince Paul's name, the butler who answered
the door at once took us to the scene of the tragedy. The library
was a magnificent room, running from back to front of the
whole building, with a window at either end one giving on the
front carriage-drive, and the other on the garden. It was in the
recess of the latter that the body had lain. It had been removed
not long before, the police having concluded their examination.
238
'That is annoying,' I murmured to Poirot. 'Who knows what
clues they may have destroyed?'
My little friend smiled.
'Eh - Eh! How often must I tell you
that clues come from ithin? In the little grey ceils of the brain
lies the solution of every mystery.'
He turned to the butler. 'I suppose, except for the removal
of the body, the room has not been touched?'
'No, sir. It's just as it was when the police came up last
night.'
'These curtains, now. I see they pull right across the wi.dow
recess. They are the same in the other window. Were they
drawn last night?'
'Yes, sir, I draw them every night.'
'Then Reedburn must have drawn them back himse. '
'I suppose so, sir.'
'Did you know your master expected a visitor last night?'
'He did not say so, sir. But he gave orders he was not to be
disturbed after dinner. You see, sir, there is a door leading out
of the library on to the terrace at the side of the house. He could
have admitted anyone that way.'
I? 'Was he in the habit of doing that?'
[: The butler coughed discreetly. 'I believe so, sir.'
t;' Poirot strode to the door in question. It was unlocked. He
stepped through it on to the terrace which joined the drive on
the right; on the left it led up to a red brick wall.
'The fruit garden, sir. There is a door leading into it farther
along, but it was always locked at six o'clock.'
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