Hickory Dickory Dock - Agatha Christie [49]
Poirot nodded and came back into the room.
“He is neat, this young man,” he murmured, looking round him appreciatively.
“Yes. Colin’s room is always very tidy. Some of the boys live in a terrible mess,” said Mrs. Hubbard. “You should see Len Bateson’s room.” She added indulgently, “But he is a nice boy, M. Poirot.”
“You say that these rucksacks are bought at the shop at the end of the road?”
“Yes.”
“What is the name of that shop?”
“Now really, M. Poirot, when you ask me like that I can’t remember. Mabberley, I think. Or else Kelso. No, I know they don’t sound the same kind of name but they’re the same sort of name in my mind. Really, of course, because I knew some people once called Kelso and some other ones called Mabberley, and they were very alike.”
“Ah,” said Poirot. “That is one of the reasons for things that always fascinate me. The unseen link.”
He looked once more out of the window and down into the garden, then took his leave of Mrs. Hubbard and left the house.
He walked down Hickory Road until he came to the corner and turned into the main road. He had no difficulty in recognising the shop of Mrs. Hubbard’s description. It displayed in great profusion picnic baskets, rucksacks, Thermos flasks, sports equipment of all kinds, shorts, bush shirts, topees, tents, swimming suits, bicycle lamps and torches; in fact all possible needs of young and athletic youth. The name above the shop, he noted, was neither Mabberley nor Kelso but Hicks. After a careful study of the goods displayed in the window, Poirot entered and represented himself as desirous of purchasing a rucksack for a hypothetical nephew.
“He makes ‘le camping,’ you understand,” said Poirot at his most foreign. “He goes with other students upon the feet and all he needs he takes with him on his back, and the cars and the lorries that pass, they give him a lift.”
The proprietor, who was a small obliging man with sandy hair, replied promptly.
“Ah, hitchhiking,” he said. “They all do it nowadays. Must lose the buses and the railways a lot of money, though. Hitchhike themselves all over Europe some of these young people do. Now it’s a rucksack you’re wanting sir. Just an ordinary rucksack?”
“I understand so. You have a variety then?”
“Well, we have one or two extra light ones for ladies, but this is the general article we sell. Good, stout, stand a lot of wear, and really very cheap though I say it myself.”
He produced a stout canvas affair which was, as far as Poirot could judge, an exact replica of the one he had been shown in Colin’s room. Poirot examined it, asked a few more exotic and unnecessary questions, and ended by paying for it then and there.
“Ah yes, we sell a lot of these,” said the man as he made it up into a parcel.
“A good many students lodge round here, do they not?”
“Yes. This is a neighbourhood with a lot of students.”
“There is one hostel, I believe in Hickory Road?”
“Oh yes, I’ve sold several to the young gentlemen there. And the young ladies. They usually come here for any equipment they want before they go off. My prices are cheaper than the big stores, and so I tell them. There you are, sir, and I’m sure your nephew will be delighted with the service he gets out of this.”
Poirot thanked him and went out with his parcel.
He had only gone a step or two when a hand fell on his shoulder.
It was Inspector Sharpe.
“Just the man I want to see,” said Sharpe.
“You have accomplished your search of the house?”
“I’ve searched the house, but I don’t know that I’ve accomplished very much. There’s a place along here where you can get a decent sandwich and a cup of coffee. Come along with me if you’re not busy. I’d like to talk to you.”
The sandwich bar was almost empty. The two men carried their plates and cups to a small table in a corner.
Here Sharpe recounted the results of his questioning of the students.
“The only person we’ve got any evidence