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  ‘I didn’t know you were in here,’ said the secretary.

  ‘I’m waiting for a phone call,’ Carelli explained. ‘Oh!’

  After a pause, Carelli spoke again. ‘When did the police inspector come?’

  ‘About twenty minutes ago, I believe. Have you seen him?’

  ‘Only in the distance,’ replied Carelli.

  ‘He’s a Scotland Yard man,’ Raynor informed him. ‘Apparently, he happened to be down in the neighbour-hood clearing up some other case, so he was called in by the local police.’

  ‘That was a piece of luck, eh?’ observed Carelli.

  ‘Wasn’t it?’ The telephone rang, and Raynor moved towards it. Walking quickly ahead of him to the phone, Carelli said, ‘I think that will be my call.’ He looked at Raynor. ‘I wonder if you’d mind –’

  ‘Certainly, my dear fellow,’ the secretary assured him. ‘I’ll clear out.’

  Raynor left the room, and Carelli lifted the receiver. He spoke quietly. ‘Hello? . . . Is that Miguel? . . . Yes? . . . No, damn it, I haven’t. It’s been impossible . . . No, you don’t understand, the old gentleman died last night . . . I’m leaving at once . . . Japp’s here . . . Japp. You know, the Scotland Yard man . . . No, I’ve not met him yet . . . I hope so, too . . . At the usual place, nine-thirty tonight . . . Right.’

  Replacing the receiver, Carelli moved to the recess, picked up his suitcase, put on his hat, and went towards the french windows. At that moment, Hercule Poirot entered from the garden, and he and Carelli collided. ‘I beg your pardon,’ said the Italian.

  ‘Not at all,’ replied Poirot politely, continuing to block the way out.

  ‘If you would allow me to pass –’

  ‘Impossible,’ said Poirot, mildly. ‘Quite impossible.’

  ‘I insist.’

  ‘I shouldn’t,’ murmured Poirot, with a friendly smile. Suddenly, Carelli charged at Poirot. The little detective stepped briskly aside, tripping Carelli up neatly with an unexpected movement, and taking the Italian doctor’s suitcase from him at the same time. At that moment, Japp slid into the room behind Poirot, and Carelli fell into the Inspector’s arms.

  ‘Hello, what’s all this?’ exclaimed Inspector Japp. ‘Why, bless me if it isn’t Tonio!’

  ‘Ah!’ Poirot gave a little laugh as he moved away from them both. ‘I thought, my dear Japp, that you would probably be able to give a name to this gentleman.’

  ‘Oh, I know all about him,’ Japp affirmed. ‘Tonio’s quite a public character. Aren’t you, Tonio? I’ll bet you were surprised at Monsieur Poirot’s move just then. What do you call that stuff, Poirot? Ju-jitsu or suchlike, isn’t it? Poor old Tonio!’

  As Poirot placed the Italian’s suitcase on the table and opened it, Carelli growled at Japp, ‘You’ve got nothing against me. You can’t hold me.’

  ‘I wonder,’ said the Inspector. ‘I’ll bet we won’t have far to look for the man who stole that formula, and did in the old gentleman.’ Turning to Poirot, he added, ‘That formula is absolutely bang in Tonio’s line, and, since we’ve found him trying to make a getaway, I shouldn’t be surprised if he’s got the goods on him this minute.’

  ‘I agree with you,’ declared Poirot.

  Japp ran his hands over Carelli, while Poirot went through the suitcase.

  ‘Well?’ Japp asked Poirot.

  ‘Nothing,’ the detective replied, closing the suitcase. ‘Nothing. I am disappointed.’

  ‘You think yourselves very clever, do you not?’ snarled Carelli. ‘But I could tell you –’

  Poirot interrupted him, speaking quietly and significantly. ‘You could, perhaps, but it would be very unwise.’

  Startled, Carelli exclaimed, ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Monsieur Poirot’s quite right,’ Japp declared. ‘You’d better keep your mouth shut.’ Moving to the hall door, he opened it and called, ‘Johnson!’ The young constable put his head around the door. ‘Get the whole family together for me, will you?’ Japp asked him. ‘I want them all here.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Johnson as he left the room.

  ‘I protest! I –’ Carelli gasped. Suddenly, he grabbed his suitcase and made a dash towards the french windows. Japp rushed after him, grabbed him, and threw him on to the settee, taking the suitcase from him as he did so. ‘No one’s hurt you yet, so don’t squeal,’ Japp barked at the now thoroughly cowed Italian.

  Poirot strolled towards the french windows. ‘Please don’t go away now, Monsieur Poirot,’ Japp called after him, putting Carelli’s suitcase down by the coffee table. ‘This should be very interesting.’

  ‘No, no, my dear Japp, I am not leaving,’ Poirot assured him. ‘I shall be right here. This family gathering, as you say, will be most interesting indeed.’

  Chapter 17

  A few minutes later, when the Amory family began to assemble in the library, Carelli was still seated on the settee, looking rather sullen, while Poirot continued to hover by the french windows. Barbara Amory, with Hastings in tow, returned from the garden through the french windows, and Barbara moved to share the settee with Carelli while Hastings went to stand by Poirot’s side. Poirot whispered to his colleague, ‘It would be helpful, Hastings, if you would make a note – a mental note, you understand – of where they all choose to sit.’

  ‘Helpful? How?’ asked Hastings.

  ‘Psychologically, my friend,’ was Poirot’s only reply.

  When Lucia entered the room, Hastings watched her as she sat in the chair to the right of the table. Richard arrived with his aunt, Miss Amory, who sat on the stool as Richard moved behind the table to keep a protective eye on his wife. Edward Raynor was the last to arrive, taking up a position behind the arm-chair. He was followed into the room by the constable, Johnson, who shut the door and stood close to it.

  Richard Amory introduced Inspector Japp to those two members of the family whom Japp had not already met. ‘My aunt, Miss Amory,’ he announced, ‘and my cousin, Miss Barbara Amory.’

  Acknowledging the introduction, Barbara asked, ‘What’s all the excitement, Inspector?’

  Japp avoided her question. ‘Now, I think we’re all here, are we not?’ he remarked, moving to the fireplace.

  Miss Amory looked bewildered and a little apprehensive. ‘I don’t quite understand,’ she said to Richard. ‘What is this – this gentleman doing here?’

  ‘I think perhaps I ought to tell you something,’ Richard answered her. ‘You see, Aunt Caroline – and all of you,’ he added, glancing around the room, ‘Dr Graham has discovered that my father was – poisoned.’

  ‘What?’ exclaimed Raynor sharply. Miss Amory gave a cry of horror.

  ‘He was poisoned with hyoscine,’ Richard continued.

  Raynor gave a start. ‘With hyoscine? Why, I saw –’ He stopped dead, looking at Lucia.

  Taking a step towards him, Inspector Japp asked, ‘What did you see, Mr Raynor?’

  The secretary looked embarrassed. ‘Nothing – at least –’ he began uncertainly. His voice trailed off into silence.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Raynor,’ Japp insisted, ‘but I’ve got to have the truth. Come now, everyone realizes you’re keeping something back.’

  ‘It’s nothing, really,’ said the secretary. ‘I mean, there’s obviously some quite reasonable explanation.’

  ‘Explanation for what, Mr Raynor?’ asked Japp.

  Raynor still hesitated. ‘Well?’ Japp prompted him. ‘It was only that –’ Raynor paused again, and then made up his mind to continue. ‘It was only that I saw Mrs Amory emptying out some of those little tablets into her hand.’

  ‘When was this?’ Japp asked him.

  ‘Last night. I was coming out of Sir Claud’s study. The others were busy with the gramophone. They were all clustered around it. I noticed her pick up a tube of tablets – I thought it was the hyoscine – and pour most of them out into the palm of her hand. Then Sir Claud called me back into the study for something.’

  ‘Why didn’
t you mention this before?’ asked Japp. Lucia began to speak, but the Inspector silenced her. ‘One minute, please, Mrs Amory,’ he insisted. ‘I’d like to hear from Mr Raynor first.’

  ‘I never thought of it again,’ Raynor told him. ‘It was only when Mr Amory said just now that Sir Claud had been poisoned with hyoscine that it came back to me. Of course, I realize it’s perfectly all right. It was just the coincidence that startled me. The tablets might not have been hyoscine at all. It could have been one of the other tubes that she was handling.’

  Japp now turned to Lucia. ‘Well, ma’am,’ he asked, ‘what have you got to say about it?’

  Lucia seemed quite composed as she answered, ‘I wanted something to make me sleep.’

  Addressing Raynor again, Japp asked, ‘You say she pretty well emptied the tube?’

  ‘It seemed so to me,’ said Raynor.

  Japp turned again to Lucia. ‘You wouldn’t have needed so many tablets to make you sleep. One or two would have been sufficient. What did you do with the rest?’

  Lucia thought for a moment, before replying, ‘I can’t remember.’ She was about to continue, when Carelli rose to his feet and burst out venomously, ‘You see, Inspector? There’s your murderess.’

  Barbara rose quickly from the settee and moved away from Carelli, while Hastings hurried to her side. The Italian continued, ‘You shall have the truth, Inspector. I came down here especially to see that woman. She had sent for me. She said she would get Sir Claud’s formula, and she offered to sell it to me. I’ll admit that I’ve dealt with such things in the past.’

  ‘That’s not much of an admission,’ Japp advised him, moving between Carelli and Lucia. ‘We know as much already.’ He turned to Lucia. ‘What have you to say to all this, ma’am?’

  Lucia rose, her face drained of colour, and Richard went to her. ‘I’m not going to allow –’ he began, when Japp stopped him.

  ‘If you please, sir.’

  Carelli spoke again. ‘Just look at that woman! None of you know who she is. But I do! She’s the daughter of Selma Goetz. The daughter of one of the most infamous women the world has ever known.’

  ‘It’s not true, Richard,’ Lucia cried. ‘It’s not true! Don’t listen to him –’

  ‘I’ll break every bone in your body!’ Richard Amory growled at Carelli.

  Japp took a pace towards Richard. ‘Keep calm, sir, do keep calm, please,’ he admonished. ‘We’ve got to get to the bottom of this.’ Japp turned to Lucia. ‘Now then, Mrs Amory.’

  There was a pause. Then Lucia tried to speak. ‘I – I –’ she began. She looked at her husband and then at Poirot, holding out her hand helplessly to the detective.

  ‘Have courage, madame,’ Poirot advised her. ‘Trust in me. Tell them. Tell them the truth. We have come to the point where lies will serve no longer. The truth will have to come out.’

  Lucia looked pleadingly at Poirot, but he merely repeated, ‘Have courage, madame. Si, si. Be brave and speak.’ He returned to his position by the french windows.

  After a long pause, Lucia began to speak, her voice low and stifled. ‘It is true that I am Selma Goetz’s daughter. It is not true that I asked that man to come here, or that I offered to sell him Sir Claud’s formula. He came here to blackmail me!’

  ‘Blackmail!’ gasped Richard, moving to her.

  Lucia turned to Richard. There was an urgency in her tone as she spoke. ‘He threatened to tell you about my mother unless I got the formula for him, but I didn’t do it. I think he must have stolen it. He had the chance. He was alone in there – in the study. And I see now that he wanted me to take the hyoscine and kill myself, so that everyone would think that it was I who had stolen the formula. He almost hypnotized me into –’ She broke down and sobbed on Richard’s shoulder.

  With a cry of ‘Lucia, my darling!’ Richard embraced her. Then, passing his wife over to Miss Amory, who had risen and who now embraced the distressed young woman consolingly, Richard addressed Japp. ‘Inspector, I want to speak to you alone.’

  Japp looked at Richard Amory for a moment, and then gave a brief nod to Johnson. ‘Very well,’ he agreed, as the constable opened the door for Miss Amory and Lucia. Barbara and Hastings took the opportunity of returning to the garden through the french windows, while Edward Raynor, as he left, murmured to Richard, ‘I’m sorry, Mr Amory, very sorry.’

  As Carelli picked up his suitcase and followed Raynor out, Japp instructed his constable, ‘Keep your eye on Mrs Amory – and also on Dr Carelli.’ Carelli turned at the door, and Japp continued, to the constable, ‘There’s to be no funny business from anyone, you understand?’

  ‘I understand, sir,’ replied Johnson as he followed Carelli out of the room.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Amory,’ said Japp to Richard Amory, ‘but after what Mr Raynor has told us, I’m bound to take every precaution. And I want Mr Poirot to remain here, as a witness to whatever you tell me.’

  Richard approached Japp with the air of a man who has come to a momentous decision. Taking a deep breath, he spoke with determination. ‘Inspector!’

  ‘Well, sir, what is it?’ asked Japp.

  Very deliberately and slowly, Richard replied, ‘I think it’s time I confessed. I killed my father.’

  Japp smiled. ‘I’m afraid that won’t wash, sir.’

  Richard looked astonished. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘No, sir,’ Japp continued. ‘Or, to put it differently, that cat won’t jump. You’re very set on your good lady, I realize. Newly married and all that. But, to speak plainly to you, it’s no manner of use putting your neck in a halter for the sake of a bad woman. Though she’s a good looker, and no mistake, I’ll admit.’

  ‘Inspector Japp!’ exclaimed Richard, angrily.

  ‘There’s no point in getting upset with me, sir,’ Japp continued imperturbably. ‘I’ve told you the plain truth without beating about the bush, and I’ve no doubt that Mr Poirot here will tell you the same. I’m sorry, sir, but duty is duty, and murder is murder. That’s all there is to it.’ Japp nodded decisively, and left the room.

  Turning to Poirot, who had been observing the scene from the settee, Richard asked coldly, ‘Well, are you going to tell me the same, Monsieur Poirot?’

  Rising, Poirot took a cigarette-case from his pocket and extracted a cigarette. Instead of answering Richard’s question, he posed one of his own. ‘Monsieur Amory, when did you first suspect your wife?’ he asked.

  ‘I never –’ Richard began, but Poirot interrupted him, picking up a box of matches from the table as he spoke.

  ‘Please, I beg of you, Monsieur Amory, nothing but the truth! You did suspect her, I know it. You suspected her before I arrived. That is why you were so anxious to get me away from this house. Do not deny it. It is impossible to deceive Hercule Poirot.’ He lit his cigarette, replaced the box of matches on the table, and smiled up at the much taller man who towered over him. They made a ridiculous contrast.

  ‘You are mistaken,’ Richard told Poirot stiffly. ‘Utterly mistaken. How could I suspect Lucia?’

  ‘And yet, of course, there is an equally good case to be made against you,’ Poirot continued reflectively, as he resumed his seat. ‘You handled the drugs, you handled the coffee, you were short of money and desperate to acquire some. Oh, yes, anyone might be excused for suspecting you.’

  ‘Inspector Japp doesn’t seem to agree with you,’ Richard observed.

  ‘Ah, Japp! He has the common sense,’ Poirot smiled. ‘He is not a woman in love.’

  ‘A woman in love?’ Richard sounded puzzled.

  ‘Let me give you a lesson in psychology, monsieur,’ Poirot offered. ‘When I first arrived, your wife came up to me and begged me to stay here and discover the murderer. Would a guilty woman have done that?’

  ‘You mean –’ Richard began quickly.

  ‘I mean,’ Poirot interrupted him, ‘that before the sun sets tonight, you will be asking her pardon upon your knees.’

  ‘What
are you saying?’

  ‘I am saying too much, perhaps,’ Poirot admitted, rising. ‘Now, monsieur, place yourself in my hands. In the hands of Hercule Poirot.’

  ‘You can save her?’ Richard asked with desperation in his voice.

  Poirot regarded him solemnly. ‘I have pledged my word – although, when I did so, I did not realize how difficult it was going to be. You see, the time it is very short, and something must be done quickly. You must promise me that you will do exactly as I tell you, without asking questions or making difficulties. Do you promise me that?’

  ‘Very well,’ replied Richard rather unwillingly.

  ‘That is good. And now, listen to me. What I suggest is neither difficult nor impossible. It is, in fact, the common sense. This house will shortly be given over to the police. They will swarm all over it. They will make their investigations everywhere. For yourself and your family it could be very unpleasant. I suggest that you leave.’

  ‘Give the house over to the police?’ Richard asked, incredulously.

  ‘That is my suggestion,’ Poirot repeated. ‘Of course, you will have to remain in the neighbourhood. But they say the local hotel is fairly comfortable. Engage rooms there. Then you will be close at hand when the police wish to question you all.’

  ‘But when do you suggest that this should take place?’

  Poirot beamed at him. ‘My idea was – immediately.’

  ‘Surely it will all look very odd?’

  ‘Not at all, not at all,’ the little detective assured Richard, smiling again. ‘It will appear to be a move of the utmost – how do you say? – the utmost sensitivity. The associations here are hateful to you – you cannot bear to remain another hour. I assure you, it will sound very well.’

  ‘But how about the Inspector?’

  ‘I myself will fix it up with Inspector Japp.’

  ‘I still can’t see what good this is going to achieve,’ Richard persisted.

  ‘No, of course you do not see.’ Poirot sounded more than a trifle smug. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It is not necessary that you should see. But I see. I, Hercule Poirot. That is enough.’ He took Richard by the shoulders. ‘Go, and make the arrangements. Or, if you cannot give your mind to it, let Raynor make them for you. Go! Go!’ He almost pushed Richard to the door.