Black Coffee - Agatha Christie [39]
‘Kenny, I don’t want to hear any more. I’m going indoors. You’ll make your own way out through the garden, won’t you? I’ll see you another time.’
‘Barbara, I only want –’ But she had already gone, and Dr Graham emitted a deep sigh that was almost a groan. At that moment, Hastings thought it expedient to retrace his steps quickly back to the house without being seen by either of them.
Chapter 14
Back in the library, it was only after Hastings, propelled by Hercule Poirot, had made his unwilling exit into the garden that the little detective turned his attention again to Lucia Amory, first taking care to close the french windows.
Lucia looked at Poirot anxiously. ‘You want to ask me about my maid, I understand, Monsieur Poirot. That is what Mr Raynor told me. But she is a very good girl. I am sure there is nothing wrong with her.’
‘Madame,’ Poirot replied, ‘it is not about your maid that I wish to speak to you.’
Lucia sounded startled as she began, ‘But Mr Raynor said –’
Poirot interrupted her. ‘I am afraid I allowed Mr Raynor to think so for reasons of my own.’
‘Well, what is it then?’ Lucia’s voice was guarded now.
‘Madame,’ Poirot observed, ‘you paid me a very pretty compliment yesterday. You said, when you first saw me – you said – that you trusted me.’
‘Well?’
‘Well, madame, I ask you to trust me now!’
‘What do you mean?’
Poirot observed her solemnly. ‘You have youth, beauty, admiration, love – all the things a woman wants and craves. But there is one thing, madame, that you lack – a father confessor! Let Papa Poirot offer himself for the post.’
Lucia was about to speak, when Poirot interrupted her. ‘Now, think well before you refuse, madame. It was at your request that I remained here. I stayed to serve you. I still wish to serve you.’
With a sudden flash of temperament, Lucia replied, ‘You can serve me best now by going, monsieur.’
‘Madame,’ Poirot continued imperturbably, ‘do you know that the police have been called in?’
‘The police?’
‘Yes.’
‘But by whom? And why?’
‘Dr Graham and the other doctors, his colleagues,’ Poirot told her, ‘have discovered that Sir Claud Amory was poisoned.’
‘Ah, no! No! Not that!’ Lucia sounded more horrified than surprised.
‘Yes. So you see, madame, there is very little time for you to decide on the most prudent course of action. At present, I serve you. Later, I may have to serve justice.’
Lucia’s eyes searched Poirot’s face as though trying to decide whether to confide in him. At last, ‘What do you want me to do?’ she asked, falteringly.
Poirot sat and faced her. ‘What will you?’ he murmured to himself, and then, addressing Lucia, he suggested gently, ‘Why not simply tell me the truth, madame?’
Lucia paused. Stretching out her hand towards him, she began, ‘I – I –’ She paused again, irresolutely, and then her expression hardened. ‘Really, Monsieur Poirot, I am at a loss to understand you.’
Poirot eyed her keenly. ‘Ah! It is to be like that, is it? I am very sorry.’
Her composure somewhat regained, Lucia spoke coldly. ‘If you will tell me what you want with me, I will answer any questions you wish to ask.’
‘So!’ the little detective exclaimed. ‘You pit your wits against Hercule Poirot, do you? Very well, then. Be assured however, madame, that we shall get at the truth just the same.’ He tapped the table. ‘But by a less pleasant process.’
‘I have nothing to conceal,’ Lucia told him defiantly.
Taking from his pocket the letter Edward Raynor had given him, Poirot handed it to Lucia. ‘A few days ago, Sir Claud received this anonymous letter,’ he revealed.
Lucia glanced through the letter, apparently unmoved. ‘Well, what of it?’ she commented as she handed it back to Poirot.
‘Have you ever heard the name Selma