Parker Pyne Investigates - Agatha Christie [43]
‘Just looking round,’ he said vaguely. Then he seemed to rouse himself. ‘Ought to have a beano tonight. What?’
The two friends went off together. Mr Parker Pyne bought a local paper printed in French.
He did not find it very interesting. The local news meant nothing to him and nothing of importance seemed to be going on elsewhere. He found a few paragraphs headed Londres.
The first referred to financial matters. The second dealt with the supposed destination of Mr Samuel Long, the defaulting financier. His defalcations now amounted to the sum of three millions and it was rumoured that he had reached South America.
‘Not too bad for a man just turned thirty,’ said Mr Parker Pyne to himself.
‘I beg your pardon?’
Parker Pyne turned to confront an Italian General who had been on the same boat with him from Brindisi to Beirut.
Mr Parker Pyne explained his remark. The Italian General nodded his head several times.
‘He is a great criminal, that man. Even in Italy we have suffered. He inspired confidence all over the world. He is a man of breeding, too, they say.’
‘Well, he went to Eton and Oxford,’ said Mr Parker Pyne cautiously.
‘Will he be caught, do you think?’
‘Depends on how much of a start he got. He may be still in England. He may be–anywhere.’
‘Here with us?’ the General laughed.
‘Possibly.’ Mr Parker Pyne remained serious. ‘For all you know, General, I may be he.’
The General gave him a startled glance. Then his olive-brown face relaxed into a smile of comprehension.
‘Oh! That is very good–very good indeed. But you–’
His eyes strayed downwards from Mr Parker Pyne’s face.
Mr Parker Pyne interpreted the glance correctly.
‘You mustn’t judge by appearances,’ he said. ‘A little additional–er–embonpoint–is easily managed and has a remarkably ageing effect.’
He added dreamily:
‘Then there is hair dye, of course, and face stain, and even a change of nationality.’
General Poli withdrew doubtfully. He never knew how far the English were serious.
Mr Parker Pyne amused himself that evening by going to a cinema. Afterwards he was directed to a ‘Nightly Palace of Gaieties’. It appeared to him to be neither a palace nor gay. Various ladies danced with a distinct lack of verve. The applause was languid.
Suddenly Mr Parker Pyne caught sight of Smethurst. The young man was sitting at a table alone. His face was flushed and it occurred to Mr Parker Pyne that he had already drunk more than was good for him. He went across and joined the young man.
‘Disgraceful, the way these girls treat you,’ said Captain Smethurst gloomily. ‘Bought her two drinks–three drinks–lots of drinks. Then she goes off laughing with some dago. Call it a disgrace.’
Mr Parker Pyne sympathized. He suggested coffee.
‘Got some araq coming,’ said Smethurst. ‘Jolly good stuff. You try it.’
Mr Parker Pyne knew something of the properties of araq. He employed tact. Smethurst, however, shook his head.
‘I’m in a bit of a mess,’ he said. ‘Got to cheer myself up. Don’t know what you’d do in my place. Don’t like to go back on a pal, what? I mean to say–and yet–what’s a fellow to do?’
He studied Mr Parker Pyne as though noticing him for the first time.
‘Who are you?’ he demanded with the curtness born of his potations. ‘What do you do?’
‘The confidence trick,’ said Mr Parker Pyne gently.
Smethurst gazed at him in lively concern.
‘What–you too?’
Mr Parker Pyne drew from his wallet a cutting. He laid it on the table in front of Smethurst.
‘Are you unhappy? (So it ran.) If so, consult Mr Parker Pyne.’
Smethurst focused on it after some difficulty.
‘Well, I’m damned,’ he ejaculated. ‘You meantersay–people come and tell you things?’
‘They confide in me–yes.’
‘Pack of idiotic women, I suppose.’
‘A good many women,’ admitted Mr Parker Pyne. ‘But men also. What about you, my young friend? You wanted advice just now?’
‘Shut your damned head,’ said Captain Smethurst. ‘No business of anybody’s–anybody’s ’cept mine. Where’s that goddamed araq?’
Mr Parker Pyne shook his head sadly.
He gave up Captain Smethurst as a bad