Peril at End House - Agatha Christie [85]
‘And so I, in turn, staged my little drama. And the thing I hoped for happened! Nick Buckley had been very vehement about the question of a secret panel. She had declared there was no such thing. But if there were—and I did not see why Ellen should have invented it—Nick must know of it. Why was she so vehement? Was it possible that she had hidden the pistol there? With the secret intention of using it to throw suspicion on somebody later?
‘I let her see that appearances were very black against Madame. That was as she had planned. As I foresaw, she was unable to resist the crowning proof. Besides it was safer for herself. That secret panel might be found by Ellen and the pistol in it!
‘We are all safely in here. She is waiting outside for her cue. It is absolutely safe, she thinks, to take the pistol from its hiding place and put it in Madame’s coat…
‘And so—at the last—she failed…’
Frederica shivered.
‘All the same,’ she said. ‘I’m glad I gave her my watch.’
‘Yes, Madame.’
She looked up at him quickly.
‘You know about that too?’
‘What about Ellen?’ I asked, breaking in. ‘Did she know or suspect anything?’
‘No. I asked her. She told me that she decided to stay in the house that night because in her own phrase she “thought something was up”. Apparently Nick urged her to see the fireworks rather too decisively. She had fathomed Nick’s dislike of Madame. She told me that “she felt in her bones something was going to happen”, but she thought it was going to happen to Madame. She knew Miss Nick’s temper, she said, and she was always a queer little girl.’
‘Yes,’ murmured Frederica. ‘Yes, let us think of her like that. A queer little girl. A queer little girl who couldn’t help herself…I shall—anyway.’
Poirot took her hand and raised it gently to his lips.
Charles Vyse stirred uneasily.
‘It’s going to be a very unpleasant business,’ he said, quietly. ‘I must see about some kind of defence for her, I suppose.’
‘There will be no need, I think,’ said Poirot, gently. ‘Not if I am correct in my assumptions.’
He turned suddenly on Challenger.
‘That’s where you put the stuff, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘In those wrist-watches.’
‘I—I—’ The sailor stammered—at a loss.
‘Do not try and deceive me—with your hearty good-fellow manner. It has deceived Hastings—but it does not deceive me. You make a good thing out of it, do you not—the traffic in drugs—you and your uncle in Harley Street.’
‘M. Poirot.’
Challenger rose to his feet.
My little friend blinked up at him placidly.
‘You are the useful “boy friend”. Deny it, if you like. But I advise you, if you do not want the facts put in the hands of the police—to go.’
And to my utter amazement, Challenger did go. He went from the room like a flash. I stared after him open-mouthed.
Poirot laughed.
‘I told you so, mon ami. Your instincts are always wrong. C’est épatant!’
‘Cocaine was in the wrist-watch—’ I began.
‘Yes, yes. That is how Mademoiselle Nick had it with her so conveniently at the nursing home. And having finished her supply in the chocolate box she asked Madame just now for hers which was full.’
‘You mean she can’t do without it?’
‘Non, non. Mademoiselle Nick is not a addict. Sometimes—for fun—that is all. But tonight she needed it for a different purpose. It will be a full dose this time.’
‘You mean—?’ I gasped.
‘It is the best way. Better than the hangman’s rope. But pst! we must not say so before M. Vyse who is all for law and order. Officially I know nothing. The contents of the wrist-watch—it is the merest guess on my part.’
‘Your guesses are always right, M. Poirot,’ said Frederica.
‘I must be going,’ said Charles Vyse, cold disapproval in his attitude as he left the room.
Poirot looked from Frederica to Lazarus.
‘You are going to get married—eh?’
‘As soon as we can.’
‘And indeed, M. Poirot,’ said Frederica.