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

too, had been blamed for Nanki Poo's disappearance.

  "But, really, M. Poirot, it was the most amazing thing. It all

  hal)l)ened in a second. Outside Harrods it was. A nurse there asked me

  the time-"

  Poirot interrupted her.

  "A nurse? A hospital nurse?"

  "No, no-a children's nurse. Such a sweet baby it was, too! A dear

  little mite. Such lovely rosy cheeks. They say

  children don't look healthy in London, but I'm sure-"

  "Ellen," said Mrs. Samirelson.

  Miss Keble blushed, stammered, and subsided into silence.

  Mrs. Samuelson said acidly, "And while Miss Keble was bending over a

  perambulator that had nothing to do with her, this audacious villain cut

  Nanki Poo's lead and made off with him."

  Miss Keble murmured tearfully, "It all happened in a second. I looked

  round and the darling boy was gonethere was just the dangling lead in my

  hand. Perhaps you'd like to see the lead, M. Poirot?"

  "By no means," said Poirot hastily. He had no wish to make a collection

  of cut dog leads. "I understand," he went on, "that shortly afterward

  you received a letter?"

  The story followed the same course exactly-the letter the threats of

  violence to Nanki Poo's cars and tail. Only two things were

  different-the sum of money demanded_f3OO-and the address to which it was

  to be sent; this time it was to Commander Blackleigh, Harrington Hotel,

  76 Clonmel Gardens, Kensington.

  Mrs. Samuelson went on: "When Nanki Poo was safely back again, I went

  to the place myself, M. Poirot. After all, three hundred pounds is

  three hundred pounds."

  "Certainly it is."

  "The very first thing I saw was my letter enclosing the money in a kind

  of rack in the hall. While I was waiting for the proprietress I slipped

  it into my bag. Unfortunately-"

  Poirot said, "Unfortunately, when you opened it it contained only blank

  sheets of paper."

  "How did you know?" Mrs. Samuelson turned on him with awe.

  Poirot shrugged his shoulders.

  "Obviously, chdre Madame, the thief would take care to recover the money

  before he returned the dog. He would then replace the notes with blank

  paper and return the letter to the rack in case its absence should be

  noticed."

  "No such person as Commander Blackleigh had ever

  stayed there."

  Poirot smiled.

  "And, of course, my husband was extremely annoyed about the whole thing.

  In fact, he was livid-absolutely lividl"

  Poirot murmured cautiously, "You did not-er-consult him before

  dispatching the money?"

  "Certainly not," said Mrs. Samuelson, with decision.

  Poirot looked a question. The lady explained.

  "I wouldn't have risked it for a moment. Men are so extraordinary when

  it's a question of money. Jacob would have insisted on going to the

  police. I couldn't risk that.

  My poor darling Nanki Poo. Anything might have happened to him] Of

  course, I had to tell my husband afterward, because I had to explain why

  I was overdrawn at the bank."

  Poirot murmured, "Quite so-quite so."

  "And I have really never seen him so angry. Men," said Mrs. Samuelson,

  rearranging her handsome diamond bracelet and turning her rings on her

  fingers, "think of nothing but money."

  Hercule Poirot went up in the lift to Sir Joseph Hoggin's office. He

  sent in his card and was told that Sir Joseph was engaged at the moment

  but would see him presently. A haughty blonde sailed out of Sir

  Joseph's room at last with her hands full of papers. She gave the

  quaint little man a disdainful glance in passing.

  Sir Joseph was seated behind his immense mahogany desk. There was a

  trace of lipstick on his chin.

  "Well, M. Poirot? Sit down. Got any news for me?"

  Hercule Poirot said, "The whole affair is of a pleasing simplicity. In

  each case the money was sent to one of those boardinghouses or private

  hotels where there is no porter or hall attendant and where a large

  number of guests are always coming and going, including a fairly large

  preponderance of ex-Servicemen. Nothing would be easier than for anyone

  to walk in, abstract a letter from the rack, either take it away or else

  remove the money and replace it with

  blank paper. Therefore, in every case, the trail ends abruptly in a

  blank wall."

  "You mean you've no idea who the fellow is?"

  "I have certain ideas, yes. It will take a few days to follow them up."

  Sir Joseph looked at him curiously.

  "Good work. Then, when you've got anything to report-"

  "I will report to you at your house."

  Sir josepfi said, "If you get to the bottom of this business, it will be

  a pretty good piece of work."

  Hercule Poirot said, "There is no question of failure.

  Hercule Poirot does not fail."

  Sir Joseph Hoggin looked at the little man and grinned.

  "Sure of yourself, aren't you?" he demanded.

  "Entirely with reason."

  "Oh, well." Sir Joseph Hoggin leaned back in his chair.

  "Pride goes before a fall, you know."

  Hercule Poirot, sitting in front of his electric radiator (and feeling a

  quiet satisfaction in its neat geometrical pattern) was giving

  instructions to his valet and general factotum.

  "You understand, Georges?"

  "Perfectly, sir."

  "More probably a flat or maisonette. And it will definitely be within

  certain limits. South of the Park, east of Kensington Church, west of

  Knightsbridge Barracks, and north of Fulham Road."

  "I understand perfectly, sir."

  Poirot murmured, "A curious little case. There is evidence here of a

  very definite talent for organization. And there is, of course, the

  surprising invisibility of the star performer-the Nemean Lion himself,

  if I may so style him. Yes, an interesting little case. I could wish

  that I felt more attracted to my client-but he bears an unfortunate

  resemblance to a soap manufacturer of Libge who poisoned his wife in

  order to marry a blond secretary. One of my early successes."

  George shook his head. He said gravely, "These blondes, sir, they're

  responsible for a lot of trouble."

  It was three days later when the invaluable George said: "This is the

  address, sir."

  Hercule Poirot took the piece of paper handed to him.

  "Excellent, my good Georges. And what day of the week?"

  "Thursdays, sir."

  "Thursdays. And today, most fortunately, is a Thursday.

  So there need be no delay."

  Twenty minutes later Hercule Poirot was climbing the stairs of an

  obscure block of flats tucked away in a little street leading off a more

  fashionable one. Number 10 Rosholm Mansions was on the third and top

  floor and there was no lift. Poirot toiled upward round and re;und the

  narrow corkscrew staircase.

  He paused to regain his breath on the top landing and from behind the

  d4Dor of Number 10 a new sound broke the silence-the sharp bark of a

  dog.

  Hercule Poirot time; dded his head with a slight smile. He pressed the

  bell of Number
10.

  The barking redoubled-footsteps came to the door, it was opened....

  Miss Amy Carnaby fell back, her hand went to her ample breast.

  "You permit that I enter?" said Hercule Poirot, and entered without

  waiting for the reply.

  There was a sitting-room door open on the right and he walked in. Behind

  him Miss Carnaby followed as though in a dream.

  The room was very small and much overcrowded. Amid the furniture a

  human being could be discovered, an elderly woman lying on a sofa drawn

  up to the gas fire. As Poirot came in, a Pekinese dog jumped off the

  sofa and came forward, uttering a few sharp suspicious barks.

  "Aha," said Poirot. "The chief actorl I salute you, my little friend."

  He bent forward, extending his hand. The dog sniffed

  at it, his intelligent eyes fixed on the man's face.

  Miss Carnaby murmured faintly, "So you know?"

  Hercule Poirot nodded. "Yes, I know." He looked at the woman on the

  sofa. "Your sister, I think?"

  iMiss Carnaby said mechanically, "Yes. Emily, this-this is M. Poirot."

  Emily Carnaby gave a gasp. She said, "Ohl" Amy Carnaby said, "Augustus

  . . ."

  The Pekinese looked toward her-his tail moved-then he resumed his

  scrutiny of Poirot's hand. Again his tail moved faintly.

  Gently, Poirot picked the little dog up and sat down with Augustus on

  his knee. He said:

  "So I have captured the Nemean Lion. My task is completed."

  Amy Carnaby said in a hard, dry voice, "Do you really know everything?"

  Poirot nodded. "I think so. You organized this business -with Augustus

  to help you. You took your employer's dog out for his usual walk,

  brought him here, and went on to the Park with Augustus. The Park

  Keeper saw you with a Pekinese as usual. The nurse girl, if we had ever

  found her, would also have agreed that you had a Pekinese with you when

  you spoke to her. Then, while you were talking, you cut the lead and

  Augustus, trained by you, slij)l)ed off at once and made a beeline back

  home. A few mtites later you gave the alarm that the dog had been

  stolen."

  There was a pause. Then Miss Carnaby drew herself up with a certain

  pathetic dignity. She said:

  "Yes. It is all quite true. I-I have nothing to say."

  the invalid wonian on the sofa began to cry softly.

  Poirot said, "Nothing at all, Nia(leivioiselle?"

  Miss Carnaby said, "Nothing. I have been a thief-and now I am found

  out."

  Poirot mlirniured, "You have nothing to say-in your own defense?"

  A spot of- e(I showed suddenly in Amy Carnaby's white cheeks. She s;d:

  "I-I don't regret what I did. I think that you are a kind man, M.

  Poirot, and that possibly you might understand.

  You see, I've been so terribly afraid."

  "Afraid?"

  "Yes, it's difficult for a gentleman to understand, I expect. But you

  see, I'm not a clever woman at all, and I've no training and I'm getting

  older-and I'm so terrified for the future. I've not been able to save

  anything-how could I, with Emily to be cared for?-and as I get older and

  more incompetent there won't be anyone who wants me. They'll want

  somebody young and brisk. I've-I've known so many people like I

  am-nobody wants you and you live in one room and you can't have a fire

  or any warmth and not very much to eat, and at last you can't even pay

  the rent of your room. There are institutions, of course, but it's not

  very easy to get into them unless you have influential friends, and I

  haven't. There are a good many others situated like I am-poor

  companions-untrained, useless women with nothing to look forward to but

  a deadly fear."

  Her voice shook. She said, "And so-some of us-got together and-and I

  thought of this. It was really having Augustus that put it into my

  mind. You see, to most people, one Pekinese is very much like another.

  (just as we think the Chinese are.) Really, of course, it's ridiculous.

  No one who knew could mistake Augustus for Nanki Poo or Shan Tung or any

  of the other Pekes. He's far more intelligent, for one thing, and he's

  much handsomer, but, as I say, to most people a Peke is just a Peke.

  Augustus put it into my head-that, combined with the fact that so many

  rich women have Pekinese dogs."

  Poirot said with a faint smile, "It must have been a profitable-racketl

  How many are there in the-the gang? Or perhaps I had better ask how

  often operations have been successfully carried out?"

  Miss Carnaby said simply, "Shan Tung was the sixteenth."

  Hercule Poirot raised his eyebrows.

  "I congratulate you. Your organization must have been indeed

  excellent."

  Emily Carnaby said, "Amy was always good at organization. Our father-he

  was the Vicar of Kellington in Essexalways said that Amy had quite a

  genius for planning. She always made all the arrangements for the

  socials and the bazaars and all that."

  Poirot said with a little bow, "I agree. As a criminal, Mademoiselle,

  you are quite in the first rank."

  Amy Carna6-y cried, "A criminal. Oh, dear, I suppose I am. But-but it

  never felt like that."

  "How did it feel?"

  "Of course, you are quite right. It was breaking the law.

  But you see-how can I explain it? Nearly all these women who employ us

  are so very rude and unpleasant. Lady Hoggin, for instance, doesn't

  mind what she says to me. She said her tonic tasted unpleasant the

  other day and practically accused me of tampering with it. All that

  sort of thing." Miss Carnaby flushed. "It's really very unpleasant.

  And not being able to say anything or answer back makes it rankle more,

  if you know what I mean."

  "I know what you mean," said Hercule Poirot.

  "And then seeing money frittered away so wastefullythat is upsetting.

  And Sir loset)h occasionally he used to describe a coup he had ma7de ih

  the city-sometimes something that seemed to me (of course, I know I've

  only got a woman's brain and don't understand finance) downright

  dishonest. Well, you know, M. Poirot, it all-it all unsettled me, and

  I fe7lt that to take a little money away from these people who really

  wouldn't miss it and hadn't been too scrupulous in acquiring it-well,

  really it hardly seemed wrong at all."

  Poirot murmured, "A modern Robin Hoodl Tell me, Miss Carnaby, did you

  ever have to carry out the threats you used in your letters?"

  "Threats?"

  "Were you ever compelled to mutilate the animals in the way you

  specified?"

  Miss Carnaby regarded him in horror.

  "I would never have dreamed of doing such a thingl That was just-just an

  artistic touch."

  "Very artistic. It worked."

  "Well, of course I knew it would. I know how I should have felt about

  Augustus, and of course I had to make sure these women never told their

  husbands until afterward.

  The plan worked beautifully every time. In nine cases out of ten the

  companion was given the letter with the money to post. We usually

  steamed it open, took out the notes, and replaced them with paper. Once

&
nbsp; or twice the woman posted it herself. Then, of course, the companion

  had to go to the hotel and take the letter out of the rack. But that

  was quite easy, too."

  "And the nursemaid touch? Was it always a nursemaid?"

  "Well, you see, M. Poirot, old maids are known to be foolishly

  sentimental about babies. So it seemed quite natural that they should

  be absorbed over a baby and not notice anything."

  Hercule Poirot sighed. He said, "Your psychology is excellent, your

  organization is first-class, and you are also a very fine actress. Your

  performance the other day when I interviewed Lady Hoggin was

  irreproachable. Never think of yourself disparagingly, Miss Carnaby.

  You may be what is termed an untrained woman but there is nothing wrong

  with your brains or with your courage."

  Miss Carnaby said with a faint smile, "And yet I have been found out, M.

  Poirot."

  Only by me. That was inevitablel When I had interviewed Mrs. Samuelson

  I realized that the kidnaping of Shan Tung was one of a series. I had

  already learned that you had once been left a Pekinese dog and had an

  invalid sister. I had only to ask my invaluable servant to look for a

  small flat within a cert2n radius occupied by an invalid lady who had a

  Pekinese dog and a sister who visited her once a week on her day out. It

  was simple."

  Amy Carnaby drew herself up.

  She said, "You have been very kind. It emboldens me to ask you a favor.

  I cannot, I know, escape the penalty for what I have done. I shall be

  sent to prison, I suppose. But if you could, M. Poirot, avert gome of

  the publicity. So distressing for Emily-and for those few who knew us

  in the

  old days. I could not, I suppose, go to prison under a false name? Or

  is that a very wrong thing to ask?"

  Hercule Poirot said, "I think I can do more than that.

  But first of all I must make one thing quite clear. This racket has got

  to stop. There must be no more disappearing dogs. All that is

  finishedl"

  "Yes? Oh, yesl"

  "And the money you extracted from Lady Hoggin must be returned."

  Amy Carnaby crossed the room, opened the drawer of a bureau, and

  returned with a packet of notes which she handed to Poirot.

  "I was going to pay it into the pool today."

  Poirot took the notes and counted them. He got up.

  "I think it possible, Miss Carnaby, that I may be able to persuade Sir

  Joseph not to prosecute."

  "Oh, M. Poirotl"

  Amy Carnaby clasped her hands. Emily gave a cry of joy. Augustus

  barked and wagged his tail.

  "As for you, mon ami," said Poirot addressing him, there is one thing

  that I wish you would give me. It is your mantle of invisibility that I

  need. In all these cases nobody for a moment suspected that there was a

  second dog involved. Augustus possessed the lion's skin of

  invisibility."

  "Of course, M. Poirot, according to the legend, Pekinese were lions

  once. And they still have the hearts of lionsl"

  "Augustus is, I suppose, the dog that was left to you by Lady

  Hal-tingfield a(i who is repoi ted to have died? Were yott never afraid

  of him coming home alone through the traffic?"

  "Oh, no, M. Poirot, Augustus is very clever about traffic.

  I have trained him most carefully. He has even grasped the principle of

  one-way streets."

  "In that case," said Hercule Poirot, "he is superior to most human

  beingsl"

  Sir Joseph received Hercule Poirot in his study. He said: