Passenger to Frankfurt - Agatha Christie [8]
‘Still, very annoying for you,’ said Chetwynd. ‘A person of your status, I mean.’ His tone was disapproving.
‘Yes,’ said Stafford Nye. ‘It doesn’t show me in a very good light, does it? I mean, not as bright as a fellow of my–er–status ought to be.’ The idea seemed to amuse him.
‘Does this often happen, did you find out?’
‘I don’t think it’s a matter of general occurrence. It could be. I suppose any person with a pick-pocket trend could notice a fellow asleep and slip a hand into a pocket, and if he’s accomplished in his profession, get hold of a wallet or a pocket-book or something like that, and hope for some luck.’
‘Pretty awkward to lose a passport.’
‘Yes, I shall have to put in for another one now. Make a lot of explanations, I suppose. As I say, the whole thing’s a damn silly business. And let’s face it, Chetwynd, it doesn’t show me in a very favourable light, does it?’
‘Oh, not your fault, my dear boy, not your fault. It could happen to anybody, anybody at all.’
‘Very nice of you to say so,’ said Stafford Nye, smiling at him agreeably. ‘Teach me a sharp lesson, won’t it?’
‘You don’t think anyone wanted your passport specially?’
‘I shouldn’t think so,’ said Stafford Nye. ‘Why should they want my passport. Unless it was a matter of someone who wished to annoy me and that hardly seems likely. Or somebody who took a fancy to my passport photo–and that seems even less likely!’
‘Did you see anyone you knew at this–where did you say you were–Frankfurt?’
‘No, no. Nobody at all.’
‘Talk to anyone?’
‘Not particularly. Said something to a nice fat woman who’d got a small child she was trying to amuse. Came from Wigan, I think. Going to Australia. Don’t remember anybody else.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘There was some woman or other who wanted to know what she did if she wanted to study archaeology in Egypt. Said I didn’t know anything about that. I told her she’d better go and ask the British Museum. And I had a word or two with a man who I think was an anti-vivisectionist. Very passionate about it.’
‘One always feels,’ said Chetwynd, ‘that there might be something behind things like this.’
‘Things like what?’
‘Well, things like what happened to you.’
‘I don’t see what can be behind this,’ said Sir Stafford. ‘I daresay journalists could make up some story, they’re so clever at that sort of thing. Still, it’s a silly business. For goodness’ sake, let’s forget it. I suppose now it’s been mentioned in the press, all my friends will start asking me about it. How’s old Leyland? What’s he up to nowadays? I heard one or two things about him out there. Leyland always talks a bit too much.’
The two men talked amiable shop for ten minutes or so, then Sir Stafford got up and went out.
‘I’ve got a lot of things to do this morning,’ he said. ‘Presents to buy for my relations. The trouble is that if one goes to Malaya, all one’s relations expect you to bring exotic presents to them. I’ll go round to Liberty’s, I think. They have a nice stock of Eastern goods there.’
He went out cheerfully, nodding to a couple of men he knew in the corridor outside. After he had gone, Chetwynd spoke through the telephone to his secretary.
‘Ask Colonel Munro if he can come to me.’
Colonel Munro came in, bringing another tall middle-aged man with him.
‘Don’t know whether you know Horsham,’ he said, ‘in Security.’
‘Think I’ve met you,’ said Chetwynd.
‘Nye’s just left you, hasn’t he?’ said Colonel Munro. ‘Anything in this story about Frankfurt? Anything, I mean, that we ought to take any notice of?’
‘Doesn’t seem so,’ said Chetwynd. ‘He’s a bit put out about it. Thinks it makes him look a silly ass. Which it does, of course.’
The man called Horsham nodded his head. ‘That’s the way he takes it, is it?’
‘Well, he tried to put a good face upon it,’ said Chetwynd.
‘All the same, you know,’ said Horsham, ‘he’s not really a silly ass, is he?’
Chetwynd shrugged his shoulders. ‘These things happen,’ he said.
‘I know,’ said