Parker Pyne Investigates - Agatha Christie [47]
He still seemed to be interested in the dead man’s tie and collar. He unfastened the studs and removed the collar. Then he uttered an exclamation.
‘See that?’
On the back of the collar was a small round bloodstain.
He peered closer down at the uncovered neck.
‘This man wasn’t killed by a blow on the head, doctor,’ he said briskly. ‘He was stabbed–at the base of the skull. You can just see the tiny puncture.’
‘And I missed it!’
‘You’d got your preconceived notion,’ said Mr Parker Pyne apologetically. ‘A blow on the head. It’s easy enough to miss this. You can hardly see the wound. A quick stab with a small sharp instrument and death would be instantaneous. The victim wouldn’t even cry out.’
‘Do you mean a stiletto? You think the General–?’
‘Italians and stilettos go together in the popular fancy–Hallo, here comes a car!’
A touring car appeared over the horizon.
‘Good,’ said O’Rourke as he came up to join them. ‘The ladies can go on in that.’
‘What about our murderer?’ asked Mr Parker Pyne.
‘You mean Hensley–?’
‘No, I don’t mean Hensley,’ said Mr Parker Pyne. ‘I happen to know that Hensley’s innocent.’
‘You–but why?’
‘Well, you see, he had sand in his sock.’
O’Rourke stared.
‘I know my boy,’ said Mr Parker Pyne gently, ‘it doesn’t sound like sense, but it is. Smethurst wasn’t hit on the head, you see, he was stabbed.’
He paused a minute and then went on.
‘Just cast your mind back to the conversation I told you about–the conversation we had in the café. You picked out what was, to you, the significant phrase. But it was another phrase that struck me. When I said to him that I did the Confidence Trick he said, “What, you too?” Doesn’t that strike you as rather curious? I don’t know that you’d describe a series of peculations from a Department as a “Confidence Trick”. Confidence Trick is more descriptive of someone like the absconding Mr Samuel Long, for instance.’
The doctor started. O’Rourke said: ‘Yes–perhaps…’
‘I said in jest that perhaps the absconding Mr Long was one of our party. Suppose that this is the truth.’
‘What–but it’s impossible!’
‘Not at all. What do you know of people besides their passports and the accounts they give of themselves. Am I really Mr Parker Pyne? Is General Poli really an Italian General? And what of the masculine Miss Pryce senior who needs a shave most distinctly.’
‘But he–but Smethurst–didn’t know Long?’
‘Smethurst is an old Etonian. Long also, was at Eton. Smethurst may have known him although he didn’t tell you so. He may have recognized him amongst us. And if so, what is he to do? He has a simple mind, and he worries over the matter. He decides at last to say nothing until Baghdad is reached. But after that he will hold his tongue no longer.’
‘You think one of us is Long,’ said O’Rourke, still dazed.
He drew a deep breath.
‘It must be the Italian fellow–it must…or what about the Armenian?’
‘To make up as a foreigner and to get a foreign passport is really much more difficult than to remain English,’ said Mr Parker Pyne.
‘Miss Pryce?’ said O’Rourke incredulously.
‘No,’ said Mr Parker Pyne. ‘This is our man!’
He laid what seemed an almost friendly hand on the shoulder of the man beside him. But there was nothing friendly in his voice, and the fingers were vice-like in their grip.
‘Squadron Leader Loftus or Mr Samuel Long, it doesn’t matter what you call him!’
‘But that’s impossible–impossible,’ spluttered O’Rourke. ‘Loftus has been in the service for years.’
‘But you’ve never met him before, have you? He was a stranger to all of you. It isn’t the real Loftus naturally.’
The quiet man found his voice.
‘Clever of you to guess. How did you, by the way?’
‘Your ridiculous statement that Smethurst had been killed by bumping his head. O’Rourke put that idea into your head when we were standing talking in Damascus yesterday. You thought–how simple! You were the only doctor with us–whatever you said would be accepted. You’d got Loftus’s kit. You’d got his instruments. It was easy to select a neat little tool for your purpose.