Black Coffee - Agatha Christie [51]
‘Inspector Japp doesn’t seem to agree with you,’ Richard observed.
‘Ah, Japp! He has the common sense,’ Poirot smiled. ‘He is not a woman in love.’
‘A woman in love?’ Richard sounded puzzled.
‘Let me give you a lesson in psychology, monsieur,’ Poirot offered. ‘When I first arrived, your wife came up to me and begged me to stay here and discover the murderer. Would a guilty woman have done that?’
‘You mean –’ Richard began quickly.
‘I mean,’ Poirot interrupted him, ‘that before the sun sets tonight, you will be asking her pardon upon your knees.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I am saying too much, perhaps,’ Poirot admitted, rising. ‘Now, monsieur, place yourself in my hands. In the hands of Hercule Poirot.’
‘You can save her?’ Richard asked with desperation in his voice.
Poirot regarded him solemnly. ‘I have pledged my word – although, when I did so, I did not realize how difficult it was going to be. You see, the time it is very short, and something must be done quickly. You must promise me that you will do exactly as I tell you, without asking questions or making difficulties. Do you promise me that?’
‘Very well,’ replied Richard rather unwillingly.
‘That is good. And now, listen to me. What I suggest is neither difficult nor impossible. It is, in fact, the common sense. This house will shortly be given over to the police. They will swarm all over it. They will make their investigations everywhere. For yourself and your family it could be very unpleasant. I suggest that you leave.’
‘Give the house over to the police?’ Richard asked, incredulously.
‘That is my suggestion,’ Poirot repeated. ‘Of course, you will have to remain in the neighbourhood. But they say the local hotel is fairly comfortable. Engage rooms there. Then you will be close at hand when the police wish to question you all.’
‘But when do you suggest that this should take place?’
Poirot beamed at him. ‘My idea was – immediately.’
‘Surely it will all look very odd?’
‘Not at all, not at all,’ the little detective assured Richard, smiling again. ‘It will appear to be a move of the utmost – how do you say? – the utmost sensitivity. The associations here are hateful to you – you cannot bear to remain another hour. I assure you, it will sound very well.’
‘But how about the Inspector?’
‘I myself will fix it up with Inspector Japp.’
‘I still can’t see what good this is going to achieve,’ Richard persisted.
‘No, of course you do not see.’ Poirot sounded more than a trifle smug. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It is not necessary that you should see. But I see. I, Hercule Poirot. That is enough.’ He took Richard by the shoulders. ‘Go, and make the arrangements. Or, if you cannot give your mind to it, let Raynor make them for you. Go! Go!’ He almost pushed Richard to the door.
With a final anxious look back at Poirot, Richard left the room. ‘Oh, these English! How obstinate,’ muttered Poirot. He moved to the french windows and called, ‘Mademoiselle Barbara!’
Chapter 18
In answer to Poirot’s call, Barbara Amory appeared outside the french windows. ‘What is it? Has something else happened?’ she asked.
Poirot gave her his most winning smile. ‘Ah, mademoiselle,’ he said. ‘I wonder if you might be able to spare my colleague Hastings for just a little minute or two, perhaps?’
Barbara’s reply was accompanied by a skittish glance. ‘So! You want to take my little pet away from me, do you?’
‘Just for a very short time, mademoiselle, I promise you.’
‘Then you shall, Monsieur Poirot.’ Turning back into the garden, Barbara called, ‘My pet, you’re wanted.’
‘I thank you,’ Poirot smiled again with a polite bow. Barbara returned to the garden, and a few moments later Hastings entered the library through the french windows, looking somewhat ashamed.
‘And what have you to say for yourself ?’ Poirot asked in a tone of mock annoyance.
Hastings attempted an apologetic smile. ‘It is all