Cat Among the Pigeons - Agatha Christie [16]
“I understand you,” said Pikeaway grimly.
“And they will, of course, double cross each other.”
Mr. Robinson shook his head. “So confusing.”
Colonel Pikeaway asked delicately: “Have you yourself any—er—special interest in the matter?”
“I represent a certain group of interests,” said Mr. Robinson. His voice was faintly reproachful. “Some of the stones in question were supplied by my syndicate to his late highness—at a very fair and reasonable price. The group of people I represent who were interested in the recovery of the stones, would, I may venture to say, have had the approval of the late owner. I shouldn’t like to say more. These matters are so delicate.”
“But you are definitely on the side of the angels,” Colonel Pikeaway smiled.
“Ah, angels! Angels—yes.” He paused. “Do you happen to know who occupied the rooms in the hotel on either side of the room occupied by Mrs. Sutcliffe and her daughter?”
Colonel Pikeaway looked vague.
“Let me see now—I believe I do. On the left hand side was Señora Angelica de Toredo—a Spanish—er—dancer appearing at the local cabaret. Perhaps not strictly Spanish and perhaps not a very good dancer. But popular with the clientèle. On the other side was one of a group of schoolteachers, I understand—”
Mr. Robinson beamed approvingly.
“You are always the same. I come to tell you things, but nearly always you know them already.”
“No no.” Colonel Pikeaway made a polite disclaimer.
“Between us,” said Mr. Robinson, “we know a good deal.”
Their eyes met.
“I hope,” Mr. Robinson said rising, “that we know enough—”
Four
RETURN OF A TRAVELLER
I
“Really!” said Mrs. Sutcliffe, in an annoyed voice, as she looked out of her hotel window, “I don’t see why it always has to rain when one comes back to England. It makes it all seem so depressing.”
“I think it’s lovely to be back,” said Jennifer. “Hearing everyone talk English in the streets! And we’ll be able to have a really good tea presently. Bread and butter and jam and proper cakes.”
“I wish you weren’t so insular, darling,” said Mrs. Sutcliffe. “What’s the good of my taking you abroad all the way to the Persian Gulf if you’re going to say you’d rather have stayed at home?”
“I don’t mind going abroad for a month or two,” said Jennifer. “All I said was I’m glad to be back.”
“Now do get out of the way, dear, and let me make sure that they’ve brought up all the luggage. Really, I do feel—I’ve felt ever since the war that people have got very dishonest nowadays. I’m sure if I hadn’t kept an eye on things that man would have gone off with my green zip bag at Tilbury. And there was another man hanging about near the luggage. I saw him afterwards on the train. I believe, you know, that these sneak thieves meet the boats and if the people are flustered or seasick they go off with some of the suitcases.”
“Oh, you’re always thinking things like that, Mother,” said Jennifer. “You think everybody you meet is dishonest.”
“Most of them are,” said Mrs. Sutcliffe grimly.
“Not English people,” said the loyal Jennifer.
“That’s worse,” said her mother. “One doesn’t expect anything else from Arabs and foreigners, but in England one’s off guard and that makes it easier for dishonest people. Now do let me count. That’s the big green suitcase and the black one, and the two small brown and the zip bag and the golf clubs and the racquets and the holdall and the canvas suitcase—and where’s the green bag? Oh, there it is. And that local tin we bought to put the extra things in—yes, one, two, three, four, five, six—yes, that’s all right. All fourteen things are here.”
“Can’t we have some tea now?” said Jennifer.
“Tea? It’s only three o’clock.”
“I’m awfully hungry.”
“All right, all right. Can you go down by yourself and order it? I really feel I must have a rest, and then I’ll just unpack the things we’ll need for tonight. It’s too bad your father couldn’t have met us. Why he had to have an important directors’ meeting in Newcastle-on-Tyne today I simply cannot imagine. You’d think his wife and daughter would come first.