Black Coffee - Agatha Christie [24]
Poirot stopped his colleague with an airy gesture of his hand. The little detective was now wearing his most innocent expression, and gazing out of the window, meditatively, into the far distance. ‘You are puzzled, Hastings?’ he asked. ‘You are wondering to yourself why I do not launch myself in pursuit of a suspect?’
‘Well – something of the kind,’ Hastings admitted.
‘It is no doubt what you would do, if you were in my place,’ observed Poirot complacently. ‘I understand that. But I am not of those who enjoy rushing about, seeking a needle in a hay-stack, as you English say. For the moment, I am content to wait. As to why I wait – eh bien, to the intelligence of Hercule Poirot things are sometimes perfectly clear which are not at all clear to those who are not so greatly gifted.’
‘Good Lord, Poirot!’ Hastings exclaimed. ‘Do you know, I’d give a considerable sum of money to see you make a thorough ass of yourself – just for once. You’re so confoundedly conceited!’
‘Do not enrage yourself, my dear Hastings,’ Poirot replied soothingly. ‘In verity, I observe that there are times when you seem almost to detest me! Alas, I suffer the penalties of greatness!’
The little man puffed out his chest, and sighed so comically that Hastings was forced to laugh. ‘Poirot, you really have the best opinion of yourself of anyone I’ve ever known,’ he declared.
‘What will you? When one is unique, one knows it. But now to serious matters, my dear Hastings. Let me tell you that I have asked Sir Claud’s son, Mr Richard Amory, to meet us in the library at noon. I say “us”, Hastings, for I need you to be there, my friend, to observe closely.’
‘As always, I shall be delighted to assist you, Poirot,’ his friend assured him.
II
At noon, Poirot, Hastings and Richard Amory met in the library, from which the body of Sir Claud had been removed late the previous evening. While Hastings listened and observed from a comfortable position on the settee, the detective asked Richard Amory to recount in detail the events of the evening, prior to his, Poirot’s, arrival. When he had concluded his recital of events, Richard, sitting in the chair which his father had occupied the previous evening, added, ‘Well, that’s about everything, I think. I hope I’ve made myself clear?’
‘But perfectly, Monsieur Amory, perfectly,’ Poirot replied, leaning against an arm of the only arm-chair in the room. ‘I now have a clear tableau.’ Shutting his eyes, he attempted to conjure up the scene. ‘There is Sir Claud in his chair, dominating the situation. Then the darkness, the knocking on the door. Yes, indeed, a dramatic little scene.’
‘Well,’ said Richard, making as if to rise, ‘if that is all –’
‘Just one little minute,’ said Poirot, with a gesture as though to detain him.
Lowering himself to his chair again with an air of reluctance, Richard asked, ‘Yes?’
‘What about earlier in the evening, Monsieur Amory?’
‘Earlier in the evening?’
‘Yes,’ Poirot reminded him. ‘After dinner.’
‘Oh, that!’ said Richard. ‘There’s really nothing more to tell. My father and his secretary, Raynor – Edward Raynor – went straight into my father’s study. The rest of us were in here.’
Poirot beamed at Richard encouragingly. ‘And you did – what?’
‘Oh, we just talked. We had the gramophone on for most of the time.’
Poirot thought for a moment. Then, ‘Nothing took place that strikes you as worth recalling?’ he asked.
‘Nothing whatever,’ Richard affirmed very quickly.
Watching him closely, Poirot pressed on. ‘When was the coffee served?’
‘Immediately after dinner,’ was Richard’s reply.
Poirot made a circular motion with his hand. ‘Did the butler hand it around, or did he leave it here to be poured out?’
‘I really can’t remember,’ said Richard.
Poirot gave a slight sigh. He thought for a moment, and then asked, ‘Did you all take coffee?’
‘Yes, I think so. All except Raynor, that is. He doesn’t drink coffee.