The Regatta Mystery and Other Stories Read online

  round asking questions--routine inquiries, he

  called it. One of the new dress-shirted lot of

  police, I suppose. Very tactful2nothing at all

  hinted. Just interested in the fact that I'd been

  hard up and was suddenly cutting a bit of a

  splash."

  "And were you?"

  "Yes--some luck with a horse or two. Unluck-ily

  my bets were made on the course--there's

  nothing to show that that's how the money came

  in. They can't disprove it, of course--but that's

  just the sort of easy lie a fellow would invent if

  he didn't want to show where the money came

  from."

  "I agree. Still they will have to have a good deal

  more than that to go upon."

  "Oh! I'm not afraid of actually being arrested

  and charged with the theft. In a way that would be

  easier--one would know where one was. It's the

  ghastly fact that all those people believe I took it."

  "One person in particular?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "A suggestion--nothing more--" Again Mr.

  Parker Pyne waved his comfortable-looking hand.

  "There was one person in particular, wasn't there?

  Shall we say Mrs. Rustington?"

  Llewellyn's dark face flushed.

  "Why pitch on her?"

  "Oh, my dear sir--there is obviously someone

  whose opinion matters to you greatly--probably

  a lady. What ladies were there? An American flap-per?

  Lady Marroway? But you would probably

  rise not fall in Lady Marroway's estimation if you

  had brought off such a coup. I know something

  THE REGATTA MYSTERY

  21

  of the lady. Clearly then, Mrs. Rustington."

  Llewellyn said with something of an effort,

  ,'She--she's had rather an unfortunate experi-ence.

  Her husband was a down and out rotter. It's

  made her unwilling to trust anyone. She--if she

  thinks--"

  He found it difficult to go on.

  "Quite so," said Mr. Parker Pyne. "I see the

  matter is important. It must be cleared up."

  Evan gave a short laugh.

  "That's easy to say."

  "And quite easy to do," said Mr. Parker Pyne.

  "You think so?"

  "Oh, yes--the problem is so clear cut. So many

  possibilities are ruled out. The answer must really

  be extremely simple. Indeed already I have a kind

  of glimmering--"

  Llewellyn stared at him incredulously.

  Mr. Parker Pyne drew a pad of paper towards

  him and picked up a pen.

  "Perhaps you would give me a brief description

  of the party."

  "Haven't I already done so?"

  "Their personal appearance--color of hair and

  $o on."

  "But, Mr. Parker Pyne, what can that have to

  do with it?"

  "A good deal, young man, a good deal. Classi-fication

  and so on."

  Somewhat unbelievingly, Evan described the

  personal appearance of the members of the yacht-ing

  party.

  Mr. Parker Pyne made a note or two, pushed

  away the pad and said:

  22

  Agatha Christie

  "Excellent. By the way, did you say a wineglass

  was broken?"

  Evan stared again.

  "Yes, it was knocked off the table and then it

  got stepped on."

  "Nasty thing, splinters of glass," said Mr.

  Parker Pyne. "Whose wine-glass was it?"

  "I think it was the child's--Eve."

  "Ah!--and who sat next to her on that side?"

  "Sir George Marroway."

  "You didn't see which of them knocked it off

  the table?"

  "Afraid I didn't. Does it matter?"

  "Not really. No. That was a superfluous question.

  Well"--he stood up--"good morning, Mr.

  Llewellyn. Will you call again in three days' time?

  I think the whole thing will be quite satisfactorily

  cleared up by then."

  "Are you joking, Mr. Parker Pyne?"

  "I never joke on professional matters, my dear

  sir. It would occasion distrust in my clients. Shall

  we say Friday at 11:30? Thank you."

  Evan entered Mr. Parker Pyne's office on the

  Friday morning in a considerable turmoil. Hope

  and skepticism fought for mastery.

  Mr. Parker Pyne rose to meet him with a beaming

  smile.

  "Good morning, Mr. Llewellyn. Sit down.

  Have a cigarette?"

  Llewellyn waved aside the proffered box.

  "Well?" he said.

  "Very well indeed," said Mr. Parker Pyne.

  "The police arrested the gang last night."

  THE REGATTA MYSTERY

  23

  "The gang? What gang?"

  "The Amalfi gang. I thought of them at once

  when you told me your story. I recognized their

  methods and once you had described the guests,

  well, there was no doubt at all in my mind."

  "Who are the Amalfi gang?"

  "Father, son and daughter-in-law--that is if

  Pietro and Maria are really married--which some

  doubt."

  "I don't understand."

  "It's quite simple. The name is Italian and no

  doubt the origin is Italian, but old Amalfi was

  born in America. His methods are usually the

  same. He impersonates a real business man, intro-duces

  himself to some prominent figure in the

  jewel business in some European country and then

  plays his little trick. In this case he was deliber-ately

  on the track of the Morning Star. Pointz'

  idiosyncrasy was well known in the trade. Maria

  Amalfi played the part of his daughter (amazing

  creature, twenty-seven at least, and nearly always

  plays a part of sixteen)."

  "Not Eve!" gasped Llewellyn.

  "Exactly. The third member of the gang got

  himself taken on as an extra waiter at the Royal

  Georgewit was holiday time, remember, and they

  would need extra staff. He may even have bribed a

  regular man to stay away. The scene is set. Eve

  challenges old Pointz and he takes on the bet. He

  passes round the diamond as he had done the

  night before. The waiters enter the room and

  Leathern retains the stone until they have left the

  room. When they do leave, the diamond lea¢s

  also, neatly attached with a morsel of chewing

  24

  Agatha Christie

  gum to the underside of the plate that Pietro bears

  away. So simple!"

  "But I saw it after that."

  "No, no, you saw a paste replica, good enough

  to deceive a casual glance. Stein, you told me,

  hardly looked at it. Eve drops it, sweeps off a glass

  too and steps firmly on stone and glass together.

  Miraculous disappearance of diamond. Both Eve

  and Leathern can submit to as much searching as

  anyone pleases."

  "Well--I'm--" Evan shook his head, at a loss

  for words.

  "You say you recognized the gang from my

  description. Had they worked this trick before?"

  "Not exactly--but it was their kind of business.

  Naturally my attention was at once directed to the

  girl
Eve."

  "Why? I didn't suspect her--nobody did. She

  seemed such a--such a child."

  "That is the peculiar genius of Maria Amalfi.

  She is more like a child than any child could

  possibly be! And then the plasticine! This bet was

  supposed to have arisen quite spontaneouslymyet

  the little lady had some plasticine with her all

  handy. That spoke of premeditation. My suspicions

  fastened on her at once."

  Llewellyn rose to his feet.

  "Well, Mr. Parker Pyne, I'm no end obliged to

  you."

  "Classification," murmured Mr. Parker Pyne.

  "The classification of criminal types--it interests

  me."

  "You'll let me know how much--er--"

  ,. "My fee will be quite moderate," said Mr.

  THE REGATTA MYSTERY

  25

  Parker Pyne. "It will not make too big a hole in

  the--er--horse racing profits. All the same, young

  man, I should, I think, leave the horses alone in

  future. Very uncertain animal, the horse."

  "That's all right," said Evan.

  He shook Mr. Parker Pyne by the hand and

  strode from the office.

  He hailed a taxi and gave the address of Janet

  Rustington's flat.

  He felt in a mood to carry all before him.

  'T/e Mystery

  of the Bagdad Chest

  The words made a catchy headline, and I said as

  much to my friend, Hercule Poirot. I knew none

  of the parties. My interest was merely the dispas-sionate

  one of the man in the street. Poirot agreed.

  "Yes, it has a flavor of the Oriental, of the

  mysterious. The chest may very well have been a

  sham Jacobean one from the Tottenham Court

  Road; none the less the reporter who thought of

  naming it the Bagdad Chest was happily inspired.

  The word 'Mystery' is also thoughtfully placed in

  juxtaposition, though I understand there is very

  little mystery about the case."

  "Exactly. It is all rather horrible and macabre,

  but it is not mysterious."

  "Horrible and macabre," repeated Poir°t

  thoughtfully.

  "The whole idea is revolting," I said, rising to

  29

  30

  Agatha Christie

  my feet and pacing up and down the room. "The

  murderer kills this man--his friend--shoves him

  into the chest, and half an hour later is dancing in

  that same room with the wife of his victim. Think!

  If she had imagined for one moment--"

  "True," said Poirot thoughtfully. "That much-vaunted

  possession, a woman's intuition--it does

  not seem to havebeen working."

  "The party seems to have gone off very mer-rily,''

  I said with a slight shiver. "And all that

  time, as they danced and played poker, there was a

  dead man in the room with them. One could write

  a play about such an idea."

  "It has been done," said Poirot. "But console

  yourself, Hastings," he added kindly. "Because

  a theme has been used once, there is no reason

  why it should not be used again. Compose your

  drama."

  I had picked up the paper and was studying the

  rather blurred reproduction of a photograph.

  "She must be a beautiful woman," I said

  slowly. "Even from this, one gets an idea."

  Below the picture ran the inscription:

  A RECENT PORTRAIT OF MRS. CLAYTON, THE

  WIFE OF THE MURDERED MAN

  Poirot took the paper from me.

  "Yes," he said. "She is beautiful. Doubtless

  she is of those born to trouble the souls of men."

  He handed the paper back to me with a sigh.

  "Dieu merci, I am not of an ardent tempera-ment.

  It has saved me from many embarrass-ments.

  I am duly thankful."

  THE MYSTERY OF THE BAGDAD CHEST

  31

  I do not remember that we discussed the case

  further. Poirot displayed no special interest in it at

  the time. The facts were so clear, and there was so

  little ambiguity about them, that discussion

  seemed merely futile.

  Mr. and Mrs. Clayton and Major Rich were

  friends of fairly long standing. On the day in question,

  the tenth of March, the Claytons had accepted

  an invitation to spend the evening with

  Major Rich. At about seven-thirty, however,

  Clayton explained to another friend, a Major Cur-tiss,

  with whom he was having a drink, that he had

  been unexpectedly called to Scotland and was

  leaving by the eight o'clock train.

  "I'll just have time to drop in and explain to old

  Jack," went on Clayton. "Marguerita is going, of

  course. I'm sorry about it, but Jack will understand how it is."

  Mr. Clayton was as good as his word. He arrived

  at Major Rich's rooms about twenty to

  eight. The major was out at the time, but his

  manservant, who knew Mr. Clayton well, suggested

  that he come in and wait. Mr. Clayton said

  that he had not time, but that he would come in

  and write a note. He added that he was on his way

  to catch a train.

  The valet accordingly showed him into the sitting

  room.

  About five minutes later Major Rich, who must

  have let himself in without the valet hearing him,

  opened the door of the sitting room, called his

  man and told him to go out and get some cigarettes.

  On his return the man brought them to his

  master, who was then alone in the sitting room.

  32

  Agatha Christie

  The man naturally conclnded that Mr. Clayton

  had left.

  The guests arrived shortly afterwards. They

  comprised Mrs. Clayton, Major Curtiss and a Mr.

  and Mrs. Spence. The evening was spent dancing

  to the phonograph and playing poker. The guests

  left shortly after midnight.

  The following morning, on coming to do the sit-ting

  room, the valet was startled to find a deep

  stain discoloring the carpet below and in front of a

  piece of furniture which Major Rich had brought

  from the East and which was called the Bagdad

  Chest.

  Instinctively the valet lifted the lid of the chest

  and was horrified to find inside the doubled-up

  body of a man who had been stabbed to the heart.

  Terrified, the man ran out of the flat and

  fetched the nearest policeman. The dead man

  proved to be Mr. Clayton. The arrest of Major

  Rich followed very shortly afterward. The major's

  defense, it was understood, consisted of a sturdy

  denial of everything. He had not seen Mr. Clayton

  the preceding evening and the first he had heard of

  his going to Scotland had been from Mrs. Clay-ton.

  Such were the bald facts of the case. Innuendoes

  and suggestions naturally abounded. The close

  friendship and intimacy of Major Rich and Mrs.

  Clayton were so stressed that only a fool could fail

  to read between the lines. The motive for the crime

  was plainly indicated.

  Long experience has taught me to make allow-ance

/>   for baseless calumny. The motive suggested

  might, for all the evidence, be entirely nonexis

  THE MYSTERY OF THE BAGDAD CHEST

  33

  tent. Some quite other reaso/a might have precipitated

  the issue. But one thing did stand out clearly

  --that Rich was the murderer.

  As I say, the matter might have rested there,

  had it not happened that Poirot and I were due at

  a party given by Lady Chatterton that night.

  Poirot, whilst bemoaning social engagements

  and declaring a passion for solitude, really enjoyed

  these affairs enormously. To be made a fuss

  of and treated as a lion suited him down to the

  ground.

  On occasions he positively purred! I have seen

  him blandly receiving the most outrageous compliments

  as no more than his due, and uttering the

  most blatantly conceited remarks, such as I can

  hardly bear to set down.

  Sometimes he would argue with me on the subject.

  "But, my friend, I am not an AngloSaxon.

  Why should I play the hypocrite? Si, si, that is

  what you do, all of you. The airman who has

  made a difficult flight, the tennis champion--they

  look down their noses, they mutter inaudibly that

  'it is nothing.' But do they really think that themselves?

  Not for a moment. They would admire the

  exploit in someone else. So, being reasonable men,