Black Coffee - Agatha Christie [2]
His newspaper abandoned, Poirot lay back in his comfortable wicker chair, his feet on a small stool. Sir Claud Amory, he thought to himself. The name struck a chord, surely? He had heard it somewhere. Yes, this Sir Claud was well-known in some sphere or other. But what was it? Was he a politician? A barrister? A retired civil servant? Sir Claud Amory. Amory.
The balcony faced the morning sun, and Poirot found it warm enough to bask in for a moment or two. Soon it would become too warm for him, for he was no sun-worshipper. ‘When the sun drives me inside,’ he mused, ‘then I will exert myself and consult the Who’s Who. If this Sir Claud is a person of some distinction, he will surely be included in that so admirable volume. If he is not –?’ The little detective gave an expressive shrug of his shoulders. An inveterate snob, he was already predisposed in Sir Claud’s favour by virtue of his title. If he were to be found in Who’s Who, a volume in which the details of Poirot’s own career could also be discovered, then perhaps this Sir Claud was someone with a valid claim on his, Hercule Poirot’s, time and attention.
A quickening of curiosity and a sudden cool breeze combined to send Poirot indoors. Entering his library, he went to a shelf of reference books and took down the thick red volume whose title, Who’s Who, was embossed in gold on its spine. Turning the pages, he came to the entry he sought, and read aloud.
AMORY, Sir Claud (Herbert); Kt. 1927; b. 24 Nov. 1878. m. 1907, Helen Graham (d. 1929); one s. Educ: Weymouth Gram. Sch.; King’s Coll., London. Research Physicist GEC Laboratories, 1905; RAE Farnborough (Radio Dept.), 1916; Air Min. Research Establishment, Swanage, 1921; demonstrated a new Principle for accelerating particles: the travelling wave linear accelerator, 1924. Awarded Monroe Medal of Physical Soc. Publications: papers in learned journals. Address: Abbot’s Cleve, nr. Market Cleve, Surrey. T: Market Cleve 314. Club: Athenaeum.
‘Ah, yes,’ Poirot mused. ‘The famous scientist.’ He remembered a conversation he had had some months previously with a member of His Majesty’s government, after Poirot had retrieved some missing documents whose contents could have proved embarrassing to the government. They had talked of security, and the politician had admitted that security measures in general were not sufficiently stringent. ‘For instance,’ he had said, ‘what Sir Claud Amory is working on now is of such fantastic importance in any future war – but he refuses to work under laboratory conditions where he and his invention can be properly guarded. Insists on working alone at his house in the country. No security at all. Frightening.’
‘I wonder,’ Poirot thought to himself as he replaced Who’s Who on the bookshelf, ‘I wonder – can Sir Claud want to engage Hercule Poirot to be a tired old watchdog? The inventions of war, the secret weapons, they are not for me. If Sir Claud –’
The telephone in the next room rang, and Poirot could hear George answering it. A moment later, the valet appeared. ‘It’s Sir Claud Amory again, sir,’ he said.
Poirot went to the phone. ‘ ’Allo. It is Hercule Poirot who speaks,’ he announced into the mouthpiece.
‘Poirot? We’ve not met, though we have acquaintances in common. My name is Amory, Claud Amory –’
‘I have heard of you, of course, Sir Claud,’ Poirot responded.
‘Look here, Poirot. I’ve got a devilishly tricky problem on my hands. Or rather, I might have. I can’t be certain. I’ve been working on a formula to bombard the atom – I won’t go into details, but the Ministry of Defence regards it as of the utmost importance. My work is now complete, and I’ve produced a formula from which a new and deadly explosive can be made. I have reason to suspect that