Black Coffee - Agatha Christie [20]
‘I see,’ he murmured. Then, addressing Richard, he added, ‘Eh bien, monsieur. I see no need why any of you should remain in this room if you would prefer not to.’
There was a general stir of relief. Dr Carelli was the first to move. ‘It is understood, of course,’ Poirot announced, looking at the Italian doctor, ‘that no one should leave the house.’
‘I will hold myself responsible for that,’ Richard declared as Barbara and Raynor left together, followed by Carelli. Caroline Amory lingered by her brother’s chair. ‘Poor dear Claud,’ she murmured to herself. ‘Poor dear Claud.’
Poirot approached her. ‘You must have courage, mademoiselle,’ he told her. ‘The shock to you has been great, I know.’
Miss Amory looked at him with tears in her eyes. ‘I’m so glad that I ordered the cook to prepare fried sole tonight,’ she said. ‘It was one of my brother’s favourite dishes.’
With a brave attempt to look serious and to match the solemnity of her delivery, Poirot answered, ‘Yes, yes, that must be a real comfort to you, I am sure.’ He shepherded Miss Amory out of the room. Richard followed his aunt out and, after a moment’s hesitation, Lucia made a brisk exit. Poirot and Hastings were left alone in the room with the body of Sir Claud.
Chapter 7
As soon as the room was empty, Hastings addressed Poirot eagerly. ‘Well, what do you think?’ he asked.
‘Shut the door, please, Hastings,’ was the only reply he received. As his friend complied, Poirot shook his head slowly and looked around the room. He moved about, casting an eye over the furniture and occasionally looking down at the floor. Suddenly, he stooped down to examine the overturned chair, the chair in which the secretary Edward Raynor had been sitting when the lights had gone out. From beneath the chair Poirot picked up a small object.
‘What have you found?’
Hastings asked him. ‘A key,’ Poirot replied. ‘It looks to me as though it might be the key to a safe. I observed a safe in Sir Claud’s study. Will you have the goodness, Hastings, to try this key and tell me if it fits?’
Hastings took the key from Poirot, and went into the study with it. Meanwhile, Poirot approached the body of the scientist and, feeling in the trouser pocket, removed from it a bunch of keys, each of which he examined closely. Hastings returned, informing Poirot that, indeed, the key fitted the safe in the study. ‘I think I can guess what happened,’ Hastings continued. ‘I imagine Sir Claud must have dropped it, and – er –’
He broke off, and Poirot slowly shook his head, doubtfully. ‘No, no, mon ami, give me the key, please,’ he requested, frowning to himself as though perplexed. He took the key from Hastings and compared it with one of the keys on the bunch. Then, putting them back in the dead scientist’s pocket, he held up the single key. ‘This,’ he told Hastings, ‘is a duplicate. It is, indeed, clumsily made, but no doubt it served its purpose.’
In great excitement, Hastings exclaimed, ‘Then that means –’
He was stopped by a warning gesture from Poirot. The sound of a key being turned in the lock of the door which led to the front hall and the staircase to the upper floors of the house was heard. As the two men turned, it opened slowly, and Tredwell, the butler, stood in the doorway.
‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ said Tredwell as he came into the room and shut the door behind him. ‘The master told me to lock this door, as well as the other one leading from this room, until you arrived. The master . . .’ He stopped, on seeing the motionless figure of Sir Claud in the chair.
‘I am afraid your master is dead,’ Poirot told him. ‘May I ask your name?’
‘Tredwell, sir.’ The servant moved to the front of the desk, looking at the body of his master. ‘Oh dear. Poor Sir Claud!’ he murmured. Turning to Poirot, he added, ‘Do please forgive me, sir, but it’s such a shock. May I ask what happened? Is it – murder?’
‘Why should you ask