Hallowe'en Party - Agatha Christie [83]
‘You’ve got to come,’ said Mrs Oliver. She was quite firm about it.
Judith came downstairs again with a couple of suitcases just as Miranda ran in through the side door, somewhat out of breath.
‘Aren’t we going to have lunch first?’ she demanded.
In spite of her elfin woodland appearance, she was a healthy child who liked her food.
‘We’ll stop for lunch on the way,’ said Mrs Oliver.
‘We’ll stop at The Black Boy at Haversham. That would be about right. It’s about three-quarters of an hour from here and they give you quite a good meal. Come on, Miranda, we’re going to start now.’
‘I shan’t have time to tell Cathie I can’t go to the pictures with her tomorrow. Oh, perhaps I could ring her up.’
‘Well, hurry up,’ said her mother.
Miranda ran into the sitting-room where the telephone was situated. Judith and Mrs Oliver put suitcases into the car. Miranda came out of the sitting-room.
‘I left a message,’ she said breathlessly. ‘That’s all right now.’
‘I think you’re mad, Ariadne,’ said Judith, as they got into the car. ‘Quite mad. What’s it all about?’
‘We shall know in due course, I suppose,’ said Mrs Oliver. ‘I don’t know if I’m mad or he is.’
‘He? Who?’
‘Hercule Poirot,’ said Mrs Oliver.
III
In London Hercule Poirot was sitting in a room with four other men. One was Inspector Timothy Raglan, looking respectful and poker-faced as was his invariable habit when in the presence of his superiors; the second was Superintendent Spence. The third was Alfred Richmond, Chief Constable of the County and the fourth was a man with a sharp, legal face from the Public Prosecutor’s office. They looked at Hercule Poirot with varying expressions, or what one might describe as non-expressions.
‘You seem quite sure, Monsieur Poirot.’
‘I am quite sure,’ said Hercule Poirot. ‘When a thing arranges itself so, one realizes that it must be so, one only looks for reasons why it should not be so. If one does not find the reasons why it should not be so, then one is strengthened in one’s opinion.’
‘The motives seem somewhat complex, if I may say so.’
‘No,’ said Poirot, ‘not complex really. But so simple that they are very difficult to see clearly.’
The legal gentleman looked sceptical.
‘We shall have one piece of definite evidence very soon now,’ said Inspector Raglan. ‘Of course, if there has been a mistake on that point…’
‘Ding dong dell, no pussy in the well?’ said Hercule Poirot. ‘That is what you mean?’
‘Well, you must agree it is only a surmise on your part.’
‘The evidence pointed to it all along. When a girl disappears, there are not many reasons. The first is that she has gone away with a man. The second is that she is dead. Anything else is very far-fetched and practically never happens.’
‘There are no special points that you can bring to our attention, Monsieur Poirot?’
‘Yes. I have been in touch with a well-known firm of estate agents. Friends of mine, who specialize in real estate in the West Indies, the Aegean, the Adriatic, the Mediterranean and other places. They specialize in sunshine and their clients are usually wealthy. Here is a recent purchase that might interest you.’
He handed over a folded paper.
‘You think this ties up?’
‘I’m sure it does.’
‘I thought the sale of islands was prohibited by that particular government?’
‘Money can usually find a way.’
‘There is nothing else that you would care to dwell upon?’
‘It is possible that within twenty-four hours I shall have for you something that will more or less clinch matters.’
‘And what is that?’
‘An eye-witness.’
‘You mean–’
‘An eye-witness to a crime.’
The legal man looked at Poirot with mounting disbelief.
‘Where is this eye-witness now?’