Death in the Clouds - Agatha Christie [54]
Norman looked at her.
Poirot tactfully became engrossed with his chicken.
‘I don’t want to go,’ said Norman.
‘If I discover who killed Madame Giselle, you will not have to go,’ said Poirot cheerfully.
‘Do you really think you will?’ asked Jane.
Poirot looked at her reproachfully.
‘If one approaches a problem with order and method there should be no difficulty in solving it—none whatever,’ said Poirot severely.
‘Oh, I see,’ said Jane, who didn’t.
‘But I should solve this problem quicker if I had help,’ said Poirot.
‘What kind of help?’
Poirot did not speak for a moment or two. Then he said:
‘Help from Mr Gale. And perhaps, later, help from you also.’
‘What can I do?’ asked Norman.
Poirot shot a sideways glance at him.
‘You will not like it,’ he said warningly.
‘What is it?’ repeated the young man impatiently.
Very delicately, so as not to offend English susceptibilities, Poirot used a toothpick. Then he said: ‘Frankly, what I need is a blackmailer.’
‘A blackmailer?’ exclaimed Norman. He stared at Poirot as a man does who cannot believe his ears.
Poirot nodded.
‘Precisely,’ he said. ‘A blackmailer.’
‘But what for?’
‘Parbleu! To blackmail.’
‘Yes, but I mean who? Why?’
‘Why,’ said Poirot, ‘is my business. As to whom—’ He paused for a moment, then went on in a calm business-like tone:
‘Here is the plan I will outline for you. You will write a note—that is to say, I will write a note and you will copy it—to the Countess of Horbury. You will mark it “Personal”. In the note you will ask for an interview. You will recall yourself to her memory as having travelled to England by air on a certain occasion. You will also refer to certain business dealings of Madame Giselle’s having passed into your hands.’
‘And then?’
‘And then you will be accorded an interview. You will go and you will say certain things (in which I will instruct you). You will ask for—let me see—ten thousand pounds.’
‘You’re mad!’
‘Not at all,’ said Poirot. ‘I am eccentric, possibly, but mad, no.’
‘And suppose Lady Horbury sends for the police? I shall go to prison.’
‘She will not send for the police.’
‘You can’t know that.’
‘Mon cher, practically speaking, I know everything.’
‘And, anyway, I don’t like it.’
‘You will not get the ten thousand pounds—if that makes your conscience any clearer,’ said Poirot with a twinkle.
‘Yes, but look here, M. Poirot—this is the sort of wildcat scheme that might ruin me for life.’
‘Ta—ta—ta—the lady will not go to the police—that I assure you.’
‘She may tell her husband.’
‘She will not tell her husband.’
‘I don’t like it.’
‘Do you like losing your patients and ruining your career?’
‘No, but—’
Poirot smiled at him kindly.
‘You have the natural repugnance, yes? That is very natural. You have, too, the chivalrous spirit. But I can assure you that Lady Horbury is not worth all this fine feeling—to use your idiom she is a very nasty piece of goods.’
‘All the same, she can’t be a murderess.’
‘Why?’
‘Why? Because we should have seen her. Jane and I were sitting just opposite.’
‘You have too many preconceived ideas. Me, I desire to straighten things out; and to do that I must know.’
‘I don’t like the idea of blackmailing a woman.’
‘Ah, mon Dieu—what there is in a word! There will be no blackmail. You have only to produce a certain effect. After that, when the ground is prepared, I will step in.’
Norman said, ‘If you land me in prison—’
‘No, no, no, I am very well known at Scotland Yard. If anything should occur I will take the blame. But nothing will occur other than what I have prophesied.’
Norman surrendered with a sigh.
‘All right. I’ll do it. But I don’t half like it.’
‘Good. This is what you will write. Take a pencil.’
He dictated slowly.
‘Voilà,’ he said. ‘Later I will instruct you as to what you are to say. Tell me, Mademoiselle, do you ever go to the theatre?’
‘Yes, fairly often,’ said Jane.
‘Good. Have you seen, for instance, a play called Down Under?’
‘Yes. I saw it about a month ago. It’s rather good.’
‘An American play,