Poirot's Early Cases - Agatha Christie [104]
My face flushed, and I took a step forward, but Lavington had wheeled out of the room as he finished his sentence.
‘My God!’ I cried. ‘Something has got to be done. You seem to be taking this lying down, Poirot.’
‘You have an excellent heart, my friend—but your grey cells are in a deplorable condition. I have no wish to impress Mr Lavington with my capabilities. The more pusillanimous he thinks me, the better.’
‘Why?’
‘It is curious,’ murmured Poirot reminiscently, ‘that I should have uttered a wish to work against the law just before Lady Millicent arrived!’
‘You are going to burgle his house while he is away?’ I gasped.
‘Sometimes, Hastings, your mental processes are amazingly quick.’
‘Suppose he takes the letter with him?’
Poirot shook his head.
‘That is very unlikely. He has evidently a hiding-place in his house that he fancies to be pretty impregnable.’
‘When do we—er—do the deed?’
‘Tomorrow night. We will start from here about eleven o’clock.’
III
At the time appointed I was ready to set off. I had donned a dark suit, and a soft dark hat. Poirot beamed kindly on me.
‘You have dressed the part, I see,’ he observed. ‘Come let us take the underground to Wimbledon.’
‘Aren’t we going to take anything with us? Tools to break in with?’
‘My dear Hastings, Hercule Poirot does not adopt such crude methods.’
I retired, snubbed, but my curiosity was alert.
It was just on midnight that we entered the small suburban garden of Buona Vista. The house was dark and silent. Poirot went straight to a window at the back of the house, raised the sash noiselessly and bade me enter.
‘How did you know this window would be open?’ I whispered, for really it seemed uncanny.
‘Because I sawed through the catch this morning.’
‘What?’
‘But yes, it was most simple. I called, presented a fictitious card and one of Inspector Japp’s official ones. I said I had been sent, recommended by Scotland Yard, to attend to some burglar-proof fastenings that Mr Lavington wanted fixed while he was away. The housekeeper welcomed me with enthusiasm. It seems they have had two attempted burglaries here lately—evidently our little idea has occurred to other clients of Mr Lavington’s—with nothing of value taken. I examined all the windows, made my little arrangement, forbade the servants to touch the windows until tomorrow, as they were electrically connected up, and withdrew gracefully.’
‘Really, Poirot, you are wonderful.’
‘Mon ami, it was of the simplest. Now, to work! The servants sleep at the top of the house, so we will run little risk of disturbing them.’
‘I presume the safe is built into the wall somewhere?’
‘Safe? Fiddlesticks! There is no safe. Mr Lavington is an intelligent man. You will see, he will have devised a hiding-place much more intelligent than a safe. A safe is the first thing everyone looks for.’
Whereupon we began a systematic search of the entire place. But after several hours’ ransacking of the house, our search had been unavailing. I saw symptoms of anger gathering on Poirot’s face.
‘Ah, sapristi, is Hercule Poirot to be beaten? Never! Let us be calm. Let us reflect. Let us reason. Let us—enfin!—employ our little grey cells!’
He paused for some moments, bending his brows in concentration; then the green light I knew so well stole into his eyes.
‘I have been an imbecile! The kitchen!’
‘The kitchen,’ I cried. ‘But that’s impossible. The servants!’
‘Exactly. Just what ninety-nine people out of a hundred would say! And for that very reason the kitchen is the ideal place to choose. It is full of various homely objects. En avant,