Passenger to Frankfurt - Agatha Christie [7]
‘Hullo, Nye,’ said Chetwynd, smiling all over his impressively handsome face. ‘Glad to be back? How was Malaya?’
‘Hot,’ said Stafford Nye.
‘Yes. Well, I suppose it always is. You meant atmospherically, I suppose, not politically?’
‘Oh, purely atmospherically,’ said Stafford Nye.
He accepted a cigarette and sat down.
‘Get any results to speak of?’
‘Oh, hardly. Not what you’d call results. I’ve sent in my report. All a lot of talky-talky as usual. How’s Lazenby?’
‘Oh, a nuisance as he always is. He’ll never change,’ said Chetwynd.
‘No, that would seem too much to hope for. I haven’t served on anything with Bascombe before. He can be quite fun when he likes.’
‘Can he? I don’t know him very well. Yes. I suppose he can.’
‘Well, well, well. No other news, I suppose?’
‘No, nothing. Nothing I think that would interest you.’
‘You didn’t mention in your letter quite why you wanted to see me.’
‘Oh, just to go over a few things, that’s all. You know, in case you’d brought any special dope home with you. Anything we ought to be prepared for, you know. Questions in the House. Anything like that.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Came home by air, didn’t you? Had a bit of trouble, I gather.’
Stafford Nye put on the face he had been determined to put on beforehand. It was slightly rueful, with a faint tinge of annoyance.
‘Oh, so you heard about that, did you?’ he said. ‘Silly business.’
‘Yes. Yes, must have been.’
‘Extraordinary,’ said Stafford Nye, ‘how things always get into the press. There was a paragraph in the stop press this morning.’
‘You’d rather they wouldn’t have, I suppose?’
‘Well, makes me look a bit of an ass, doesn’t it?’ said Stafford Nye. ‘Got to admit it. At my age too!’
‘What happened exactly? I wondered if the report in the paper had been exaggerating.’
‘Well, I suppose they made the most of it, that’s all. You know what these journeys are. Damn boring. There was fog at Geneva so they had to re-route the plane. Then there was two hours’ delay at Frankfurt.’
‘Is that when it happened?’
‘Yes. One’s bored stiff in these airports. Planes coming, planes going. Tannoy going full steam ahead. Flight 302 leaving for Hong Kong, Flight 109 going to Ireland. This, that and the other. People getting up, people leaving. And you just sit there yawning.’
‘What happened exactly?’ said Chetwynd.
‘Well, I’d got a drink in front of me, Pilsner as a matter of fact, then I thought I’d got to get something else to read. I’d read everything I’d got with me so I went over to the counter and bought some wretched paperback or other. Detective story, I think it was, and I bought a woolly animal for one of my nieces. Then I came back, finished my drink, opened my paperback and then I went to sleep.’
‘Yes, I see. You went to sleep.’
‘Well, a very natural thing to do, isn’t it? I suppose they called my flight but if they did I didn’t hear it. I didn’t hear it apparently for the best of reasons. I’m capable of going to sleep in an airport any time but I’m also capable of hearing an announcement that concerns me. This time I didn’t. When I woke up, or came to, however you like to put it, I was having a bit of medical attention. Somebody apparently had dropped a Mickey Finn or something or other in my drink. Must have done it when I was away getting the paperback.’
‘Rather an extraordinary things to happen, wasn’t it?’ said Chetwynd.
‘Well, it’s never happened to me before,’ said Stafford Nye. ‘I hope it never will again. It makes you feel an awful fool, you know. Besides having a hangover. There was a doctor and some nurse creature, or something. Anyway, there was no great harm done apparently. My wallet had been pinched with some money in it and my passport. It was awkward of course. Fortunately, I hadn’t got much money. My travellers’ cheques were in an inner pocket. There always has to be a bit of red tape and all that if you lose your passport. Anyway, I