Black Coffee - Agatha Christie [26]
Tredwell had entered the room while Poirot was speaking. As Richard began to stammer irresolutely, ‘I – that is –’ the butler interrupted him.
‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ he said to his employer, ‘but Dr Graham is here, and would like to see you.’
Clearly glad of the opportunity to escape further questioning from Poirot, Richard replied, ‘I’ll come at once,’ moving to the door as he spoke. Turning to Poirot, he asked, formally, ‘Would you excuse me, please?’ as he left with Tredwell.
When the two men had departed, Hastings rose from the settee and approached Poirot, bursting with suppressed excitement. ‘I say!’ he exclaimed. ‘Poison, eh?’
‘What, my dear Hastings?’ asked Poirot.
‘Poison, surely!’ Hastings repeated, nodding his head vigorously.
Chapter 9
Poirot surveyed his friend with an amused twinkle in his eye. ‘How dramatic you are, my dear Hastings!’ he exclaimed. ‘With what swiftness and brilliance you leap to conclusions!’
‘Now then, Poirot,’ Hastings protested, ‘you can’t put me off that way. You’re not going to pretend that you think the old fellow died of heart disease. What happened last night positively leaps to the eye. But I must say Richard Amory can’t be a very bright sort of chap. The possibility of poison doesn’t seem to have occurred to him.’
‘You think not, my friend?’ asked Poirot.
‘I spotted it last night, when Dr Graham announced that he couldn’t issue a death certificate and said that there would have to be an autopsy.’
Poirot gave a slight sigh. ‘Yes, yes,’ he murmured placatingly. ‘It is the result of the autopsy that Dr Graham comes to announce this morning. We shall know whether you are right or not in a very few minutes.’ Poirot seemed to be about to say something further, but then checked himself. He moved to the mantelpiece, and began to adjust the vase containing the spills used for lighting the fire.
Hastings watched him affectionately. ‘I say, Poirot,’ he laughed, ‘what a fellow you are for neatness.’
‘Is not the effect more pleasing now?’ asked Poirot, as he surveyed the mantelpiece with his head on one side.
Hastings snorted. ‘I can’t say it worried me greatly before.’
‘Beware!’ said Poirot, shaking an admonishing finger at him. ‘The symmetry, it is everything. Everywhere there should be neatness and order, especially in the little grey cells of the brain.’ He tapped his head as he spoke.
‘Oh, come on, don’t leap onto your hobby horse,’ Hastings begged him. ‘Just tell me what your precious little grey cells make of this business.’
Poirot moved to the settee, and sat before replying. He regarded Hastings steadily, his eyes narrowing like a cat’s until they showed only a gleam of green. ‘If you would use your grey cells, and attempt to see the whole case clearly – as I attempt to do – you would perhaps perceive the truth, my friend,’ he announced smugly. ‘However,’ he continued, in a tone which suggested that he considered he was behaving with great magnanimity, ‘before Dr Graham arrives, let us first hear the ideas of my friend Hastings.’
‘Well,’ Hastings began, eagerly, ‘the key being found under the secretary’s chair is suspicious.’
‘You think so, do you, Hastings?’
‘Of course,’ his friend replied. ‘Highly suspicious. But, on the whole, I plump for the Italian.’
‘Ah!’ Poirot murmured. ‘The mysterious Dr Carelli.’
‘Mysterious, exactly,’ Hastings continued. ‘That’s precisely the right word for him. What is he doing, down here in the country? I’ll tell you. He was after Sir Claud Amory’s formula. He’s almost certainly the emissary of a foreign government. You know the kind of thing I mean.’
‘I do, indeed, Hastings,’ Poirot responded with a smile. ‘After all, I do occasionally go to the cinema, you know.’
‘And if it turns out that Sir Claud was indeed poisoned’ – Hastings was now well into his stride – ‘it makes Dr Carelli more than ever the prime suspect. Remember the Borgias? Poison is a very Italian sort of crime. But what I’m afraid of is that Carelli will get away