Black Coffee - Agatha Christie [34]
Miss Amory paused for breath. Poirot, while she was speaking, had taken out his cigarette-case and was about to light a cigarette, but he paused and took the opportunity to ask her, ‘Madame Amory’s diamond necklace was stolen? When was this, mademoiselle?’
Miss Amory assumed a thoughtful expression. ‘Let me see, it must have been – yes, it was two months ago – just about the same time that Richard had such a quarrel with his father.’
Poirot looked at the cigarette in his hand. ‘You permit that I smoke, mademoiselle?’ he asked, and on receiving a smile and a gracious nod of assent, he took a box of matches from his pocket, lit his cigarette, and looked at Miss Amory encouragingly. When that lady made no effort to resume speaking, Poirot prompted her. ‘I think you were saying that Monsieur Amory quarrelled with his father,’ he suggested.
‘Oh, it was nothing serious,’ Miss Amory told him. ‘It was only over Richard’s debts. Of course, all young men have debts! Although, indeed, Claud himself was never like that. He was always so studious, even when he was a lad. Later, of course, his experiments always used up a lot of money. I used to tell him he was keeping Richard too short of money, you know. But, yes, about two months ago they had quite a scene, and what with that, and Lucia’s necklace missing, and her refusing to call in the police, it was a very upsetting time. And so absurd, too! Nerves, all nerves!’
‘You are sure that my smoke is not deranging you, mademoiselle?’ asked Poirot, holding up his cigarette.
‘Oh, no, not at all,’ Miss Amory assured him. ‘I think gentlemen ought to smoke.’
Only now noticing that his cigarette had failed to light properly, Poirot retrieved his box of matches from the table in front of him. ‘Surely, it is a very unusual thing for a young and beautiful woman to take the loss of her jewels so calmly?’ he asked, as he lit his cigarette again, carefully replacing two dead matches in the box which he then returned to his pocket.
‘Yes, it is odd. That’s what I call it,’ Miss Amory agreed. ‘Distinctly odd! But there, she didn’t seem to care a bit. Oh dear, here I am gossiping on about things which can’t possibly interest you, Monsieur Poirot.’
‘But you interest me enormously, mademoiselle,’ Poirot assured her. ‘Tell me, when Madame Amory came out from dinner last night, feeling faint, did she go upstairs?’
‘Oh, no,’ replied Caroline Amory. ‘She came into this room. I settled her here on the sofa, and then I went back to the dining-room, leaving Richard with her. Young husbands and wives, you know, Monsieur Poirot! Not that young men are nearly so romantic as they used to be when I was a girl! Oh dear! I remember a young fellow called Aloysius Jones. We used to play croquet together. Foolish fellow – foolish fellow! But there, I’m wandering from the point again. We were talking about Richard and Lucia. A very handsome couple they make, don’t you think so, Monsieur Poirot? He met her in Italy, you know – on the Italian lakes – last November. It was love at first sight. They were married within a week. She was an orphan, alone in the world. Very sad, although I sometimes wonder whether it wasn’t a blessing in disguise. If she’d had a lot of foreign relations – that would be a bit trying, don’t you think? After all, you know what foreigners are! They – oh!’ She suddenly broke off, turning in her chair to look at Poirot in embarrassed dismay. ‘Oh, I do beg your pardon!’
‘Not at all, not at all,’ murmured Poirot, with an amused glance at Hastings.
‘So stupid of me,’ Miss Amory apologized, highly flustered. ‘I didn’t mean – of course, it’s so different in your case. “Les braves Belges”, as we used to say during the war.’
‘Please, do not concern yourself,’ Poirot assured her. After a pause, he continued, as though her mention of the war had reminded him, ‘I believe – that is – I understand that the box of drugs above the bookcase is a relic of the war. You were all examining it last