Mrs McGinty's Dead / the Labours of Hercules (Agatha Christie Collected Works) Read online

  "You were fortunate," said Hercule Poirot.

  Sir Joseph said, "Eh?" again.

  "Exceedingly fortunate," said Hercule Poirot firmly. "I .am, I may say

  without undue modesty, at the apex of my career. Very shortly I intend

  to retire-to live in the country, to travel occasionally to see the

  world-also, it may be, to cultivate my garden-with particular attention

  to improving the strain of vegetable marrows. Magnificent

  vegetables-but they lack flavor. That, however, is not the point. I

  wished merely to explain that before retiring I had imposed upon myself

  a certain task. I have decided to accept twelve cases-no more, no less.

  A self-imposed 'Labors of Hercules,' if I may so describe it. Your

  case, Sir Joseph, is the first of the twelve. I was attracted to it by

  its striking unimportance."

  "Importance?" said Sir ' Joseph.

  "UnimPortance was what I said. I have been called in for varying

  causes-to investigate murders, unexplained deaths, robberies, thefts of

  jewelry. This is the first time that I have been asked to turn my

  talents to elucidate the

  kidnaping of a Pekinese dog."

  Sir Joseph grunted. He said, "You surprise mel I should have said you'd

  have had no end of women pestering you about their pet dogs."

  ."That, certainly. But it is the first time that I am summoned by the

  husband in the case."

  Sir Joseph's little eyes narrowed appreciatively.

  He said, "I begin to see why they recommended you to me. You're a

  shrewd fellow, M. Poirot."

  Poirot murmured, "If you will now tell me the facts of the case. The

  dog disappeared when?"

  "Exactly a week ago."

  "And your wife is by now quite frantic, I presume?"

  Sir Joseph stared.

  He said, "You don't understand. The dog has been returned."

  "Returned? Then, permit me to ask, where do I enter the matter?"

  Sir Joseph went crimson in the face.

  "Because I'm damned if I'll be swindledl Now then, M.

  Poirot, I'm going to tell you the whole thing. The dog was stolen a

  week ago-nipped in Kensington Gardens where he was out with my wife's

  companion. The next day my wife got a demand for c2OO. I ask

  you-,c2OO! For a damned yapping little brute that's always getting

  under your feet anywayl"

  Poirot murmured, "You did not approve of paying such a sum, naturally?"

  "Of course I didn't-or wouldn't have if I'd known anything about itl

  Milly (my wife) knew that well enough.

  She didn't say anything to me. just sent off the moneyin one-pound

  notes as stipulated-to the address given."

  "And the dog was returned?"

  "Yes. That evening the bell rang and there was the little bruce sitting

  on the doorstep. And not a soul to be seen."

  "I"ei,fectly. Continue."

  "-]'lien, of (,ourse, filly confessed what she'd done and I lost my

  tel)ei, t I)it. However, I calmed down after a wle-zifter all, the hng

  was done and you can't expect a woman to behave with any sense-and I

  dare say I should have let the whole thing go if it hadn't been for

  meeting old Samuelson at the Club."

  "Yes?"

  "Damn it all, this thing must be a positive racketl Exactly the same

  thing had happened to him. Three hundred pounds they'd rooked his wife

  of l Well, that was a bit too much. I decided the thing had got to be

  stopped. I sent for you.

  "But surely, Sir Joseph, the proper thing (and a very much more

  inexpensive thing) would have been to send for the police?"

  Sir Joseph rubbed his nose.

  He said, "Are you married, M. Poirot?"

  "Alas," said Poirot, "I have not that felicity."

  "Hm," said Sir Joseph. "Don't know about felicity, but if you were,

  you'd know that women are funny creatures.

  My wife went into hysterics at the mere mention of the olice-she'd got

  it into her head that something would nappen to her precious Shan Tung

  if I went to them. She wouldn't hear of the idea-and I may say she

  doesn't take very kindly to the idea of your being called in. But I

  stood firm there and at last she gave way. But, mind you, she doesn't

  like it."

  Hercule Poirot murmured, "The position is, I perceive, a delicate one.

  It would be as well, perhaps, if I were to interview Madame your wife

  and gain further particulars from her while at the same time reassuring

  her as to the future safety of her dog."

  Sir Joseph nodded and rose to his feet.

  He said, "I'll take you along in the car right away."

  In a large, hot, ornately-furnished drawing-room two women were sitting.

  As Sir Joseph and Hercule Poirot entered, a small Pekinese dog rushed

  forward, barking furiously, and circling dangerously round Poirot's

  ankles.

  "Shan-Shan, come here. Come here to mother, loveyPick him up, Miss

  Carnaby."

  The second woman hurried forward and Hercule Poirot murmured: "A

  veritable lion, indeed."

  Rather breathlessly Shan Tung's captor agreed.

  "Yes, indeed, he's such a good watch dog. He's not frightened of

  anything or anyone. There's a lovely boy, then."

  Having performed the necessary introduction, Sir Joseph said, "Well, M.

  Poirot, I'll leave you to get on with it," and with a short nod he left

  the room.

  Lady Hoggin was a stout, petulant-looking woman with dyed henna-red

  hair. Her companion, the fluttering Miss Carnaby, was a plump,

  amiable-looking creature between forty and fifty. She treated Lady

  Hoggin with great deference and was clearly frightened to death of her.

  Poirot said, "Now tell me, Lady Hoggin, the full circumstances of this

  abominable crime."

  Lady Hoggin flushed. "I'm very glad to hear you say that, M. Poirot.

  For it was a crime. Pekinese are terribly sensitive-just as sensitive

  as children. Poor Shan Tung might have died of fright if of nothing

  else."

  Miss Carnaby chimed in breathlessly, "Yes, it was wicked-wickedl"

  "Please tell me the facts."

  "Well, it was like this. Shan Tung was out for his walk in the park

  with Miss Carnaby-"

  , 'Oh, dear me, yes, it was all my fault," chimed in the companion. "How

  could I have been so stupid-so careless-"

  Lady Hoggin said acidly, "I don't want to reproach you, Miss Carnaby,

  but I do think you might have been more alert."

  Poirot transferred his gaze to the companion.

  "What happened?"

  Miss Carnaby burst into voluble and slightly flustered speech.

  "Well, it was the most extraordinary thingl We had just been along the

  flower walk-Shan Tung was on the lead, of course-he'd had his little run

  on the grass-and I was

  just about to turn and go home when my attention was caught by a baby in

  a pram-such a lovely baby-it smiled at me-lovely rosy cheeks and such

  curls. I just couldn't resist speaking to the nurse in charge and

  asking how old it was-seventeen months, she said-and I'm sure I was only

  speaking to her for about a minute or two, and then suddenly I looked

  down and Shan wasn't.there any more.

  The lead had been cut right thr
ough-"

  Lady Hoggin said, "If you'd been paying proper attention to your duties,

  nobody could have sneaked up and cut that lead."

  Miss Carnaby seemed inclined to burst into tears. Poirot said hastily:

  "And what happened next?"

  "Well, of course I looked everywhere. And calledl And I asked the park

  attendant if he'd seen a man carrying a Pekinese dog, but he hadn't

  noticed anything of the kind -and I didn't know what to do-and I went on

  searching, but at last, of course, I had to come home-"

  Miss Carnaby stopped dead. Poirot could imagine the scene that followed

  well enough. He asked: "And then you received a letter?"

  Lady Hoggin took up the tale.

  "By the first post the following morning. It said that if I wanted to

  see Shan Tung alive I was to send L200 in oneound notes in an

  unregistered packet to Captain Curtis, 98 Bloomsbury Road 9-quare. It

  said that if the money were marked or the police informed then-then-Shan

  Tung's ears and tail would be-cut off I Miss Carnaby began to sniff.

  "So awful," she murmured. "How people can be such fiendsl"

  Lady Hoggin went on: "It said that if I sent the money at once, Shan

  Tung would be returned the same evening alive and well but that if-if

  afterward I went to the police, it would be Shan Tung who would suffer

  for it-"

  Miss Carnaby murmured te;trfully, "Oh, dear, I'm so afraid that even

  noly-of course, M. Poirot isn't exactly the police-"

  Lady Hoggin said anxiously, "So you see, M. Poirot, you will have to be

  very careful-"

  Hercule Poirot was quick to allay her anxiety.

  "But I, I am not of the police. My inquiries, they will be conducted

  very discreetly, very quietly. You can be assured, Lady Hoggin, that

  Shan Tung will be perfectly safe.

  That I will guarantee."

  Both ladies seemed relieved by the magic word. Poirot went on: "You

  have here the letter?"

  Lady Hoggin shook her head.

  "No, I was instructed to enclose it with the money."

  "And you did so?"

  Yes."

  "H'm, that is a pity."

  Miss Carnaby said brightly, "But I have the dog lead still. Shall I get

  it?"

  She left the room. Hercule Poirot profited by her absence to ask a few

  pertinent questions.

  "Amy Carnaby? Ohl she's quite all right. A good soul, though foolish,

  of course. I have had several companions and they have all been

  complete fools. But Amy was devoted to Shan Tung and she was terribly

  upset over the whole thing-as well she might be-hanging over

  perambulators and neglecting my little sweetheartl These old maids are

  all the same, idiotic over babiesl No, I'm quite sure she had nothing

  whatever to do with it."

  " it does not seem likely," Poirot agreed. "But as the dog disappeared

  when in her charge one must make quite certain of her honesty. She has

  been with you long?"

  "Nearly a year. I had excellent references with her. She was with old

  Lady Hartingfield until she died-ten years, I believe. After that she

  looked after an invalid sister for a while. She is really an excellent

  creature-but a complete fool, as I said."

  Amy Carnaby returned at this minute, slightly more out of breath, and

  produced the cut dog lead which she handed to Poirot with the utmost

  solemnity, looking at him with hopeful expectancy.

  Poirot surveyed it carefully.

  "Mais oui," he said. "This has undoubtedly been cut."

  The two women still waited expectantly.

  He said: "I will keep this."

  Solemnly he put it in his pocket. The two women breathed a sigh of

  relief. He had clearly done what was expected of him.

  It was the habit of Hercule Poirot to leave nothing untested.

  Though on the face of it it seemed unlikely that Miss Carnaby was

  anything but the foolish and rather muddleheaded woman that she appeared

  to be, Poirot nevertheless managed to interview a somewhat forbidding

  lady who was the niece of the late Lady Hartingfield.

  "Amy Carnaby?" said Miss Maltravers. "Of course, remember her

  perfectly. She was a good soul and suited Aunt Julia down to the

  ground. Devoted to dogs and excellent at reading aloud. Tactful, too,

  never contradicted an invalid. What's happened to her? Not in distress

  of any kind, I hope. I gave her a reference about a year ago to some

  womarmame began with H-"

  Poirot explained hastily that Miss Carnaby was still in her post. Tfiere

  had been, he said, a little trouble over a, lost dog.

  "Amy Carnaby is devoted to dogs. My aunt had a Pekinese. She left it

  to Miss Carnaby when she died and Miss Carnaby was devoted to it. I

  believe she was quite heartbroken when it died. Oh, yes, she's a good

  soul. Not, of course, precisely intellectual."

  Hercule Poirot agreed that Miss Carnaby could not, perhaps, be described

  as intellectual.

  His next proceeding was to discover the Park Keeper to whom Miss Carnaby

  had spoken on the fateful afternoon.

  This he did without much difficulty. The man rememhered the incident in

  question.

  "Middle-aged lady, rather stout-in a regular state she was-lost her

  Pekinese dog. I knew her well by gightbrings the dog along most

  afternoons. I saw her come in

  with it. She was in a rare takingwhen she lost it. Came running to jne

  to know if I'd seen anyone with a Pekinese dogl Well, I ask youl I can

  tell you, the Gardens is full of dogsevery kind-terriers, Pekes, German

  sausage dogs-even them borzois-all kinds we have. Not likely as I'd

  notice one Peke more than another."

  Hercule Poirot nodded his head thoughtfully.

  He went to 38 Bloomsbury Road Square.

  Numbers 38, 39, and 40 were incorporated together as the Balaclava

  Private Hotel. Poirot walked up the steps a(i pushed open the door. He

  was greeted inside by gloom axid a smell of cooking cabbage with a

  reminiscence of breakfast kippers. On his left was a mahogany table

  with a sad-looking chrysanthemum plant on it. Above the table was a big

  baize-covered rack into which letters were stuck.

  Poirot stared at the board thoughtfully for some minutes.

  He pushed open a door on his right. It led into a kind of lounge with

  small tables and some so-called easy chairs covered with a depressing

  pattern of cretonne. Three old ladies and one fierce-looking old

  gentleman raised their heads and gazed at the intruder with deadly

  venom. Hercule Poirot blushed and withdrew.

  He walked farther along the passage and came to a staircase. On his

  right a passage branched at right angles to what was evidently the

  dining-room.

  A little way along this passage was a door marked: OFFICE.

  On this Poirot tapped. Receiving no response, he opened.the door and

  looked in. There was a large desk in the room, covered with papers, but

  there was no one to be seen. He withdrew, closing the door again. He

  penetrated to the dining-room.

  A sad-looking girl in a dirty apron was shuffling about with a basket of

  knives and forks with which she was laying the tables
.

  Hercule Poirot said apologetically, "Excuse me, but could I see the

  manageress?"

  Thie girl looked at him with lackluster eyes.

  She said, "I don't know, I'm sure."

  Hercule Poirot said, "There is no one in the office.".

  "Well, I don't know where she'd be, I'm sure."

  "Perhaps," Hercule Poirot said, patient and persistent, you could find

  out?"

  The girl sighed. Dreary as her day's round was, it had now been made

  additionally so by this new burden laid upon her. She said sadly:

  "Well, I'll see what I can do."

  Poirot thanked her and removed himself once more to the hall, not daring

  to face the malevolent glare of the occupants of the lounge. He was

  staring up at the baizecovered letter rack when a rustle and a strong

  smell of Devonshire violets proclaimed the arrival of the manageress.

  Mrs. Harte was full of graciousness. She exclaimed:

  "So sorry I was not in my office. You were requiring rooms?"

  Hercule Poirot murmured, "Not precisely. I was wondering if a friend of

  mine had been staying here lately. A Captain Curtis."

  "Curtis," exclaimed Mrs. Harte. "Captain Curtis? Now where have I

  heard that n;ime?"

  Poirot did not help her. She shook her head vexedly.

  He said, "You have not, then, had a Captain Curtis staying here?"

  "Well, noi lately, certainly. And yet, you know, the name is certainly

  familiar to me. Can you describe your friend at all?"

  "That," said Hercule Poirot, "would be difficult." He went on: "I

  suppose it sometimes happens that letters arrive for people when in

  actual fact no one of that name is staying here?"

  "That does happen, of course."

  "What do you do with such letters?"

  "Well, we keep them for a time. You see, it probably means that the

  Derson in question will arrive shortly. Of course, if letters or

  parcels are a long time here unclaimed, they are returned to the post

  office."

  Hercule Poirot nodded thoughtfully.

  He said, "I comprehend." He added, "It is like this, you see. I wrote a

  letter to my friend here."

  Mrs. Harte's face cleared.

  "That explains it. I must have noticed the name on an envelope. But

  really we have so many ex-Army gentlemen staying here or passing

  through- Let me see now."

  She peered up at the board.

  Hercule Poirot said, "It is not there now."

  "It must have been returned to the postman, I suppose.

  am so sorry. Nothing important, I hope?"

  "No, no, it was of no importance."

  As he moved toward the door, Mrs. Harte, enveloped in her pungent odor

  of violets, pursued him.

  "If your friend should come-" :,it is most unlikely. I must have made a

  mistake."

  'Our terms," said Mrs. Harte, "are very moderate. Coffee after dinner

  is included. I would like you to see one or two of our

  bed-sitting-rooms......

  With difficulty Hercule Poirot escaped.

  The drawing-room of Mrs. Samuelson was larger, more lavishly furnished,

  and enjoyed an even more stifling amount of central heating than that of

  Lady Hoggin. Hercule Poirot picked his way giddily among gilded console

  tables and large groups of statuary.

  Mrs. Samuelson was taller than Lady Hoggin and her.

  hair was dyed with peroxide. Her Pekinese was called Nanki Poo. His

  bulging eyes surveyed Hercule Poirot with arrogance. I%Iiss Keble,

  I%Irs. Samuelson's companion, was thin and scraggy where Miss Carnaby

  had been plump, but she also was voluble and slightly breathless. She,