Poirot investigates - Agatha Christie [61]
I remained sceptical, but the morrow forced me to render tribute to my friend’s remarkable powers. In every paper was a huge headline telling of the sensational failure of the Davenheim bank. The disappearance of the famous financier took on a totally different aspect in the light of the revelation of the financial affairs of the bank.
Before we were half-way through breakfast, the door flew open and Japp rushed in. In his left hand was a paper; in his right was Poirot’s telegram, which he banged down on the table in front of my friend.
‘How did you know, Monsieur Poirot? How the blazes could you know?’
Poirot smiled placidly at him. ‘Ah, mon ami, after your wire, it was a certainty! From the commencement, see you, it struck me that the safe burglary was somewhat remarkable. Jewels, ready money, bearer bonds–all so conveniently arranged for–whom? Well, the good Monsieur Davenheim was of those who “look after Number One” as your saying goes! It seemed almost certain that it was arranged for–himself ! Then his passion of late years for buying jewellery! How simple! The funds he embezzled, he converted into jewels, very likely replacing them in turn with paste duplicates, and so he put away in a safe place, under another name, a considerable fortune to be enjoyed all in good time when everyone has been thrown off the track. His arrangements completed, he makes an appointment with Mr Lowen (who has been imprudent enough in the past to cross the great man once or twice), drills a hole in the safe, leaves orders that the guest is to be shown into the study, and walks out of the house–where?’ Poirot stopped, and stretched out his hand for another boiled egg. He frowned. ‘It is really insupportable,’ he murmured, ‘that every hen lays an egg of a different size! What symmetry can there be on the breakfast table? At least they should sort them in dozens at the shop!’
‘Never mind the eggs,’ said Japp impatiently. ‘Let ’em lay ’em square if they like. Tell us where our customer went to when he left The Cedars–that is, if you know!’
‘Eh bien, he went to his hiding place. Ah, this Monsieur Davenheim, there may be some malformation in his grey cells, but they are of the first quality!’
‘Do you know where he is hiding?’
‘Certainly! It is most ingenious.’
‘For the Lord’s sake, tell us, then!’
Poirot gently collected every fragment of shell from his plate, placed them in the egg-cup, and reversed the empty egg-shell on top of them. This little operation concluded, he smiled on the neat effect, and then beamed affectionately on us both.
‘Come, my friends, you are men of intelligence. Ask yourself the question I asked myself. “If I were this man, where should I hide?” Hastings, what do you say?’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I’m rather inclined to think I’d not do a bolt at all. I’d stay in London–in the heart of things, travel by tubes and buses; ten to one I’d never be recognized. There’s safety in a crowd.’
Poirot turned inquiringly to Japp.
‘I don’t agree. Get clear away at once–that’s the only chance. I would have had plenty of time to prepare things beforehand. I’d have a yacht waiting, with steam up, and I’d be off to one of the most out-of-the-way corners of the world before the hue and cry began!’
We both looked at Poirot. ‘What do you say, monsieur?’
For a moment he remained silent. Then a very curious smile flitted across his face.
‘My friends, if I were hiding from the police, do you know where I should hide? In a prison!’
‘What?’
‘You are seeking Monsieur Davenheim in order to put him in prison, so you never dream of looking to see if he may not be already there!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You tell me Madame Davenheim is not a very intelligent woman. Nevertheless I think if you took her up to Bow Street and confronted her with the man Billy Kellett