鸽群中的猫19

Eighteen

CONSULTATION¹

IHercule Poirot had prepared himself to beat down an insular² prejudice that a headmistress mighthave against aged³ foreigners with pointed⁴ patent leather shoes and large moustaches. But he wasagreeably surprised. Miss Bulstrode greeted him with cosmopolitan⁵ aplomb⁶. She also, to hisgratification, knew all about him.

“It was kind of you, M. Poirot,” she said, “to ring up so promptly⁷ and allay⁸ our anxiety. All themore so because that anxiety had hardly begun. You weren’t missed at lunch, Julia, you know,”

she added, turning to the girl. “So many girls were fetched away this morning, and there were somany gaps at table, that half the school could have been missing, I think, without anyapprehension being aroused. These are unusual circumstances,” she said, turning back to Poirot. “Iassure you we would not be so slack normally. When I received your telephone call,” she went on,“I went to Julia’s room and found the note she had left.”

“I didn’t want you to think I’d been kidnapped, Miss Bulstrode,” said Julia.

“I appreciate that, but I think, Julia, that you might have told me what you were planning to do.”

“I thought I’d better not,” said Julia, and added unexpectedly, “Les oreilles ennemies nousécoutent.”

“Mademoiselle Blanche doesn’t seem to have done much to improve your accent yet,” saidMiss Bulstrode, briskly. “But I’m not scolding you, Julia.” She looked from Julia to Poirot. “Now,if you please, I want to hear exactly what has happened.”

“You permit?” said Hercule Poirot. He stepped across the room, opened the door and lookedout. He made an exaggerated gesture of shutting it. He returned beaming.

“We are alone,” he said mysteriously. “We can proceed.”

Miss Bulstrode looked at him, then she looked at the door, then she looked at Poirot again. Hereyebrows rose. He returned her gaze steadily⁹. Very slowly Miss Bulstrode inclined her head.

Then, resuming her brisk manner, she said, “Now then, Julia, let’s hear all about this.”

Julia plunged¹⁰ into her recital¹¹. The exchange of tennis racquets, the mysterious woman. Andfinally her discovery of what the racquet contained. Miss Bulstrode turned to Poirot. He noddedhis head gently.

“Mademoiselle Julia has stated everything correctly,” he said. “I took charge of what shebrought me. It is safely lodged¹² in a bank. I think therefore that you need anticipate no furtherdevelopments of an unpleasant nature here.”

“I see,” said Miss Bulstrode. “Yes, I see … ” She was quiet for a moment or two and then shesaid, “You think it wise for Julia to remain here? Or would it be better for her to go to her aunt inLondon?”

“Oh please,” said Julia, “do let me stay here.”

“You’re happy here then?” said Miss Bulstrode.

“I love it,” said Julia. “And besides, there have been such exciting things going on.”

“That is not a normal feature of Meadowbank,” said Miss Bulstrode, dryly.

“I think that Julia will be in no danger here now,” said Hercule Poirot. He looked again towardsthe door.

“I think I understand,” said Miss Bulstrode.

“But for all that,” said Poirot, “there should be discretion¹³. Do you understand discretion, Iwonder?” he added, looking at Julia.

“M. Poirot means,” said Miss Bulstrode, “that he would like you to hold your tongue aboutwhat you found. Not talk about it to the other girls. Can you hold your tongue?”

“Yes,” said Julia.

“It is a very good story to tell to your friends,” said Poirot. “Of what you found in a tennisracquet in the dead of night. But there are important reasons why it would be advisable that thatstory should not be told.”

“I understand,” said Julia.

“Can I trust you, Julia?” said Miss Bulstrode.

“You can trust me,” said Julia. “Cross my heart.”

Miss Bulstrode smiled. “I hope your mother will be home before long,” she said.

“Mummy? Oh, I do hope so.”

“I understand from Inspector¹⁴ Kelsey,” said Miss Bulstrode, “that every effort is being made toget in touch with her. Unfortunately,” she added, “Anatolian buses are liable to unexpected delaysand do not always run to schedule.”

“I can tell Mummy, can’t I?” said Julia.

“Of course. Well, Julia, that’s all settled. You’d better run along now.”

Julia departed. She closed the door after her. Miss Bulstrode looked very hard at Poirot.

“I have understood you correctly, I think,” she said. “Just now, you made a great parade ofclosing that door. Actually—you deliberately¹⁵ left it slightly open.”

Poirot nodded.

“So that what we said could be overheard?”

“Yes—if there was anyone who wanted to overhear. It was a precaution of safety for the child—the news must get round that what she found is safely in a bank, and not in her possession.”

Miss Bulstrode looked at him for a moment—then she pursed her lips grimly together.

“There’s got to be an end to all this,” she said.

II

“The idea is,” said the Chief Constable¹⁶, “that we try to pool our ideas and information. We arevery glad to have you with us, M. Poirot,” he added. “Inspector Kelsey remembers you well.”

“It’s a great many years ago,” said Inspector Kelsey. “Chief Inspector Warrender was in chargeof the case. I was a fairly raw sergeant¹⁷, knowing my place.”

“The gentleman called, for convenience’s sake by us—Mr. Adam Goodman, is not known toyou, M. Poirot, but I believe you do know his—his—er—chief. Special Branch,” he added.

“Colonel Pikeaway?” said Hercule Poirot thoughtfully.

“Ah, yes it is some time since I have seen him. Is he still as sleepy as ever?” he asked Adam.

Adam laughed. “I see you know him all right, M. Poirot. I’ve never seen him wide-awake.

When I do, I’ll know that for once he isn’t paying attention to what goes on.”

“You have something there, my friend. It is well observed.”

“Now,” said the Chief Constable, “let’s get down to things. I shan’t push myself forward orurge my own opinions. I’m here to listen to what the men who are actually working on the caseknow and think. There are a great many sides to all this, and one thing perhaps I ought to mentionfirst of all. I’m saying this as a result of representations that have been made to me from—er—various quarters high up.” He looked at Poirot. “Let’s say,” he said, “that a little girl—a schoolgirl—came to you with a pretty tale of something she’d found in the hollowed-out handle of a tennisracquet. Very exciting for her. A collection, shall we say, of coloured stones, paste, good imitation—something of that kind—or even semi-precious stones which often look as attractive as the otherkind. Anyway let’s say something that a child would be excited to find. She might even haveexaggerated ideas of its value. That’s quite possible, don’t you think?” He looked very hard atHercule Poirot.

“It seems to me eminently¹⁸ possible,” said Hercule Poirot.

“Good,” said the Chief Constable. “Since the person who brought these—er—coloured stonesinto the country did so quite unknowingly and innocently, we don’t want any question of illicitsmuggling to arise.

“Then there is the question of our foreign policy,” he went on. “Things, I am led to understand,are rather—delicate just at present. When it comes to large interests in oil, mineral deposits, allthat sort of thing, we have to deal with whatever government’s in power. We don’t want anyawkward questions to arise. You can’t keep murder out of the Press, and murder hasn’t been keptout of the Press. But there’s been no mention of anything like jewels in connection with it. For thepresent, at any rate, there needn’t be.”

“I agree,” said Poirot. “One must always consider international complications.”

“Exactly,” said the Chief Constable. “I think I’m right in saying that the late ruler of Ramat wasregarded as a friend of this country, and that the powers that be would like his wishes in respect ofany property of his that might be in this country to be carried out. What that amounts to, I gather,nobody knows at present. If the new Government of Ramat is claiming certain property whichthey allege¹⁹ belongs to them, it will be much better if we know nothing about such property beingin this country. A plain refusal would be tactless.”

“One does not give plain refusals in diplomacy,” said Hercule Poirot. “One says instead thatsuch a matter shall receive the utmost attention but that at the moment nothing definite is knownabout any little—nest egg, say—that the late ruler of Ramat may have possessed²⁰. It may be still inRamat, it may be in the keeping of a faithful friend of the late Prince Ali Yusuf, it may have beentaken out of the country by half a dozen people, it may be hidden somewhere in the city of Ramatitself.” He shrugged²¹ his shoulders. “One simply does not know.”

The Chief Constable heaved a sigh. “Thank you,” he said. “That’s just what I mean.” He wenton, “M. Poirot, you have friends in very high quarters in this country. They put much trust in you.

Unofficially they would like to leave a certain article in your hands if you do not object.”

“I do not object,” said Poirot. “Let us leave it at that. We have more serious things to consider,have we not?” He looked round at them. “Or perhaps you do not think so? But after all, what isthree-quarters of a million or some such sum in comparison with human life?”

“You’re right, M. Poirot,” said the Chief Constable.

“You’re right every time,” said Inspector Kelsey. “What we want is a murderer. We shall beglad to have your opinion, M. Poirot,” he added, “because it’s largely a question of guess andguess again and your guess is as good as the next man’s and sometimes better. The whole thing’slike a snarl²² of tangled²³ wool.”

“That is excellently put,” said Poirot, “one has to take up that snarl of wool and pull out the onecolour that we seek, the colour of a murderer. Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“Then tell me, if it is not too tedious for you to indulge in repetition, all that is known so far.”

He settled down to listen.

He listened to Inspector Kelsey, and he listened to Adam Goodman. He listened to the briefsumming up of the Chief Constable. Then he leaned back, closed his eyes, and slowly nodded hishead.

“Two murders,” he said, “committed in the same place and roughly under the same conditions.

One kidnapping. The kidnapping of a girl who might be the central figure of the plot. Let usascertain first why she was kidnapped.”

“I can tell you what she said herself,” said Kelsey.

He did so, and Poirot listened.

“It does not make sense,” he complained.

“That’s what I thought at the time. As a matter of fact I thought she was just making herselfimportant….”

“But the fact remains²⁴ that she was kidnapped. Why?”

“There have been ransom²⁵ demands,” said Kelsey slowly, “but—” he paused.

“But they have been, you think, phoney? They have been sent merely to bolster²⁶ up thekidnapping theory?”

“That’s right. The appointments made weren’t kept.”

“Shaista, then, was kidnapped for some other reason. What reason?”

“So that she could be made to tell where the—er—valuables were hidden?” suggested Adamdoubtfully.

Poirot shook his head.

“She did not know where they were hidden,” he pointed out. “That at least, is clear. No, theremust be something….”

His voice tailed off. He was silent, frowning, for a moment or two. Then he sat up, and asked aquestion.

“Her knees,” he said. “Did you ever notice her knees?”

Adam stared at him in astonishment²⁷.

“No,” he said. “Why should I?”

“There are many reasons why a man notices a girl’s knees,” said Poirot severely²⁸.

“Unfortunately, you did not.”

“Was there something odd about her knees? A scar? Something of that kind? I wouldn’t know.

They all wear stockings most of the time, and their skirts are just below knee length.”

“In the swimming pool, perhaps?” suggested Poirot hopefully.

“Never saw her go in,” said Adam. “Too chilly²⁹ for her, I expect. She was used to a warmclimate. What are you getting at? A scar? Something of that kind?”

“No, no, that is not it at all. Ah well, a pity.”

He turned to the Chief Constable.

“With your permission, I will communicate with my old friend, the Préfet, at Geneva. I think hemay be able to help us.”

“About something that happened when she was at school there?”

“It is possible, yes. You do permit? Good. It is just a little idea of mine.” He paused and wenton: “By the way, there has been nothing in the papers about the kidnapping?”

“The Emir Ibrahim was most insistent³⁰.”

“But I did notice a little remark in a gossip column. About a certain foreign young lady who haddeparted from school very suddenly. A budding romance, the columnist³¹ suggested? To be nippedin the bud if possible!”

“That was my idea,” said Adam. “It seemed a good line to take.”

“Admirable. So now we pass from kidnapping to something more serious. Murder. Twomurders at Meadowbank.”

 

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