The Mysterious Affair at Styles Read online

  CHAPTER II. THE 16TH AND 17TH OF JULY

  I had arrived at Styles on the 5th of July. I come now to the eventsof the 16th and 17th of that month. For the convenience of the readerI will recapitulate the incidents of those days in as exact a manner aspossible. They were elicited subsequently at the trial by a process oflong and tedious cross-examinations.

  I received a letter from Evelyn Howard a couple of days after herdeparture, telling me she was working as a nurse at the big hospital inMiddlingham, a manufacturing town some fifteen miles away, and beggingme to let her know if Mrs. Inglethorp should show any wish to bereconciled.

  The only fly in the ointment of my peaceful days was Mrs. Cavendish'sextraordinary, and, for my part, unaccountable preference for thesociety of Dr. Bauerstein. What she saw in the man I cannot imagine, butshe was always asking him up to the house, and often went off for longexpeditions with him. I must confess that I was quite unable to see hisattraction.

  The 16th of July fell on a Monday. It was a day of turmoil. The famousbazaar had taken place on Saturday, and an entertainment, in connectionwith the same charity, at which Mrs. Inglethorp was to recite a Warpoem, was to be held that night. We were all busy during the morningarranging and decorating the Hall in the village where it was to takeplace. We had a late luncheon and spent the afternoon resting in thegarden. I noticed that John's manner was somewhat unusual. He seemedvery excited and restless.

  After tea, Mrs. Inglethorp went to lie down to rest before her effortsin the evening and I challenged Mary Cavendish to a single at tennis.

  About a quarter to seven, Mrs. Inglethorp called us that we should belate as supper was early that night. We had rather a scramble to getready in time; and before the meal was over the motor was waiting at thedoor.

  The entertainment was a great success, Mrs. Inglethorp's recitationreceiving tremendous applause. There were also some tableaux in whichCynthia took part. She did not return with us, having been asked to asupper party, and to remain the night with some friends who had beenacting with her in the tableaux.

  The following morning, Mrs. Inglethorp stayed in bed to breakfast, asshe was rather overtired; but she appeared in her briskest mood about12.30, and swept Lawrence and myself off to a luncheon party.

  "Such a charming invitation from Mrs. Rolleston. Lady Tadminster'ssister, you know. The Rollestons came over with the Conqueror--one ofour oldest families."

  Mary had excused herself on the plea of an engagement with Dr.Bauerstein.

  We had a pleasant luncheon, and as we drove away Lawrence suggested thatwe should return by Tadminster, which was barely a mile out of our way,and pay a visit to Cynthia in her dispensary. Mrs. Inglethorp repliedthat this was an excellent idea, but as she had several letters to writeshe would drop us there, and we could come back with Cynthia in thepony-trap.

  We were detained under suspicion by the hospital porter, until Cynthiaappeared to vouch for us, looking very cool and sweet in her long whiteoverall. She took us up to her sanctum, and introduced us to her fellowdispenser, a rather awe-inspiring individual, whom Cynthia cheerilyaddressed as "Nibs."

  "What a lot of bottles!" I exclaimed, as my eye travelled round thesmall room. "Do you really know what's in them all?"

  "Say something original," groaned Cynthia. "Every single person whocomes up here says that. We are really thinking of bestowing a prize onthe first individual who does _not_ say: 'What a lot of bottles!' AndI know the next thing you're going to say is: 'How many people have youpoisoned?'"

  I pleaded guilty with a laugh.

  "If you people only knew how fatally easy it is to poison someone bymistake, you wouldn't joke about it. Come on, let's have tea. We've gotall sorts of secret stories in that cupboard. No, Lawrence--that's thepoison cupboard. The big cupboard--that's right."

  We had a very cheery tea, and assisted Cynthia to wash up afterwards. Wehad just put away the last tea-spoon when a knock came at the door. Thecountenances of Cynthia and Nibs were suddenly petrified into a sternand forbidding expression.

  "Come in," said Cynthia, in a sharp professional tone.

  A young and rather scared looking nurse appeared with a bottle whichshe proffered to Nibs, who waved her towards Cynthia with the somewhatenigmatical remark:

  "_I_'m not really here to-day."

  Cynthia took the bottle and examined it with the severity of a judge.

  "This should have been sent up this morning."

  "Sister is very sorry. She forgot."

  "Sister should read the rules outside the door."

  I gathered from the little nurse's expression that there was not theleast likelihood of her having the hardihood to retail this message tothe dreaded "Sister".

  "So now it can't be done until to-morrow," finished Cynthia.

  "Don't you think you could possibly let us have it to-night?"

  "Well," said Cynthia graciously, "we are very busy, but if we have timeit shall be done."

  The little nurse withdrew, and Cynthia promptly took a jar from theshelf, refilled the bottle, and placed it on the table outside the door.

  I laughed.

  "Discipline must be maintained?"

  "Exactly. Come out on our little balcony. You can see all the outsidewards there."

  I followed Cynthia and her friend and they pointed out the differentwards to me. Lawrence remained behind, but after a few moments Cynthiacalled to him over her shoulder to come and join us. Then she looked ather watch.

  "Nothing more to do, Nibs?"

  "No."

  "All right. Then we can lock up and go."

  I had seen Lawrence in quite a different light that afternoon. Comparedto John, he was an astoundingly difficult person to get to know. He wasthe opposite of his brother in almost every respect, being unusually shyand reserved. Yet he had a certain charm of manner, and I fancied that,if one really knew him well, one could have a deep affection for him.I had always fancied that his manner to Cynthia was rather constrained,and that she on her side was inclined to be shy of him. But they wereboth gay enough this afternoon, and chatted together like a couple ofchildren.

  As we drove through the village, I remembered that I wanted some stamps,so accordingly we pulled up at the post office.

  As I came out again, I cannoned into a little man who was just entering.I drew aside and apologised, when suddenly, with a loud exclamation, heclasped me in his arms and kissed me warmly.

  "_Mon ami_ Hastings!" he cried. "It is indeed _mon ami_ Hastings!"

  "Poirot!" I exclaimed.

  I turned to the pony-trap.

  "This is a very pleasant meeting for me, Miss Cynthia. This is my oldfriend, Monsieur Poirot, whom I have not seen for years."

  "Oh, we know Monsieur Poirot," said Cynthia gaily. "But I had no idea hewas a friend of yours."

  "Yes, indeed," said Poirot seriously. "I know Mademoiselle Cynthia. Itis by the charity of that good Mrs. Inglethorp that I am here." Then,as I looked at him inquiringly: "Yes, my friend, she had kindly extendedhospitality to seven of my countrypeople who, alas, are refugees fromtheir native land. We Belgians will always remember her with gratitude."

  Poirot was an extraordinary looking little man. He was hardly more thanfive feet, four inches, but carried himself with great dignity. His headwas exactly the shape of an egg, and he always perched it a little onone side. His moustache was very stiff and military. The neatness ofhis attire was almost incredible. I believe a speck of dust would havecaused him more pain than a bullet wound. Yet this quaint dandifiedlittle man who, I was sorry to see, now limped badly, had been in histime one of the most celebrated members of the Belgian police. Asa detective, his flair had been extraordinary, and he had achievedtriumphs by unravelling some of the most baffling cases of the day.

  He pointed out to me the little house inhabited by him and his fellowBelgians, and I promised to go and see him at an early date. Then heraised his hat with a flourish to Cynthia, and we drove away.

  "He's a dear little man," said Cyn
thia. "I'd no idea you knew him."

  "You've been entertaining a celebrity unawares," I replied.

  And, for the rest of the way home, I recited to them the variousexploits and triumphs of Hercule Poirot.

  We arrived back in a very cheerful mood. As we entered the hall, Mrs.Inglethorp came out of her boudoir. She looked flushed and upset.

  "Oh, it's you," she said.

  "Is there anything the matter, Aunt Emily?" asked Cynthia.

  "Certainly not," said Mrs. Inglethorp sharply. "What should therebe?" Then catching sight of Dorcas, the parlourmaid, going into thedining-room, she called to her to bring some stamps into the boudoir.

  "Yes, m'm." The old servant hesitated, then added diffidently: "Don'tyou think, m'm, you'd better get to bed? You're looking very tired."

  "Perhaps you're right, Dorcas--yes--no--not now. I've some letters Imust finish by post-time. Have you lighted the fire in my room as I toldyou?"

  "Yes, m'm."

  "Then I'll go to bed directly after supper."

  She went into the boudoir again, and Cynthia stared after her.

  "Goodness gracious! I wonder what's up?" she said to Lawrence.

  He did not seem to have heard her, for without a word he turned on hisheel and went out of the house.

  I suggested a quick game of tennis before supper and, Cynthia agreeing,I ran upstairs to fetch my racquet.

  Mrs. Cavendish was coming down the stairs. It may have been my fancy,but she, too, was looking odd and disturbed.

  "Had a good walk with Dr. Bauerstein?" I asked, trying to appear asindifferent as I could.

  "I didn't go," she replied abruptly. "Where is Mrs. Inglethorp?"

  "In the boudoir."

  Her hand clenched itself on the banisters, then she seemed to nerveherself for some encounter, and went rapidly past me down the stairsacross the hall to the boudoir, the door of which she shut behind her.

  As I ran out to the tennis court a few moments later, I had to pass theopen boudoir window, and was unable to help overhearing the followingscrap of dialogue. Mary Cavendish was saying in the voice of a womandesperately controlling herself:

  "Then you won't show it to me?"

  To which Mrs. Inglethorp replied:

  "My dear Mary, it has nothing to do with that matter."

  "Then show it to me."

  "I tell you it is not what you imagine. It does not concern you in theleast."

  To which Mary Cavendish replied, with a rising bitterness:

  "Of course, I might have known you would shield him."

  Cynthia was waiting for me, and greeted me eagerly with:

  "I say! There's been the most awful row! I've got it all out of Dorcas."

  "What kind of a row?"

  "Between Aunt Emily and _him_. I do hope she's found him out at last!"

  "Was Dorcas there, then?"

  "Of course not. She 'happened to be near the door'. It was a real oldbust-up. I do wish I knew what it was all about."

  I thought of Mrs. Raikes's gipsy face, and Evelyn Howard's warnings, butwisely decided to hold my peace, whilst Cynthia exhausted every possiblehypothesis, and cheerfully hoped, "Aunt Emily will send him away, andwill never speak to him again."

  I was anxious to get hold of John, but he was nowhere to be seen.Evidently something very momentous had occurred that afternoon. I triedto forget the few words I had overheard; but, do what I would, I couldnot dismiss them altogether from my mind. What was Mary Cavendish'sconcern in the matter?

  Mr. Inglethorp was in the drawing-room when I came down to supper. Hisface was impassive as ever, and the strange unreality of the man struckme afresh.

  Mrs. Inglethorp came down last. She still looked agitated, and duringthe meal there was a somewhat constrained silence. Inglethorp wasunusually quiet. As a rule, he surrounded his wife with littleattentions, placing a cushion at her back, and altogether playing thepart of the devoted husband. Immediately after supper, Mrs. Inglethorpretired to her boudoir again.

  "Send my coffee in here, Mary," she called. "I've just five minutes tocatch the post."

  Cynthia and I went and sat by the open window in the drawing-room. MaryCavendish brought our coffee to us. She seemed excited.

  "Do you young people want lights, or do you enjoy the twilight?" sheasked. "Will you take Mrs. Inglethorp her coffee, Cynthia? I will pourit out."

  "Do not trouble, Mary," said Inglethorp. "I will take it to Emily." Hepoured it out, and went out of the room carrying it carefully.

  Lawrence followed him, and Mrs. Cavendish sat down by us.

  We three sat for some time in silence. It was a glorious night, hot andstill. Mrs. Cavendish fanned herself gently with a palm leaf.

  "It's almost too hot," she murmured. "We shall have a thunderstorm."

  Alas, that these harmonious moments can never endure! My paradise wasrudely shattered by the sound of a well known, and heartily disliked,voice in the hall.

  "Dr. Bauerstein!" exclaimed Cynthia. "What a funny time to come."

  I glanced jealously at Mary Cavendish, but she seemed quite undisturbed,the delicate pallor of her cheeks did not vary.

  In a few moments, Alfred Inglethorp had ushered the doctor in, thelatter laughing, and protesting that he was in no fit state for adrawing-room. In truth, he presented a sorry spectacle, being literallyplastered with mud.

  "What have you been doing, doctor?" cried Mrs. Cavendish.

  "I must make my apologies," said the doctor. "I did not really mean tocome in, but Mr. Inglethorp insisted."

  "Well, Bauerstein, you are in a plight," said John, strolling in fromthe hall. "Have some coffee, and tell us what you have been up to."

  "Thank you, I will." He laughed rather ruefully, as he described how hehad discovered a very rare species of fern in an inaccessible place,and in his efforts to obtain it had lost his footing, and slippedignominiously into a neighbouring pond.

  "The sun soon dried me off," he added, "but I'm afraid my appearance isvery disreputable."

  At this juncture, Mrs. Inglethorp called to Cynthia from the hall, andthe girl ran out.

  "Just carry up my despatch-case, will you, dear? I'm going to bed."

  The door into the hall was a wide one. I had risen when Cynthia did,John was close by me. There were therefore three witnesses who couldswear that Mrs. Inglethorp was carrying her coffee, as yet untasted, inher hand.

  My evening was utterly and entirely spoilt by the presence of Dr.Bauerstein. It seemed to me the man would never go. He rose at last,however, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  "I'll walk down to the village with you," said Mr. Inglethorp. "I mustsee our agent over those estate accounts." He turned to John. "No oneneed sit up. I will take the latch-key."