Poirot's Early Cases - Agatha Christie [57]
‘ “Monsieur,” I said with dignity, “It is not for Hercule Poirot to run up and down the evil-smelling streets of Limehouse like a little dog of no breeding. Be calm. My agents are at work.”
‘On the following day I had news for him. The two men had indeed passed through the house in question, but their real objective was a small eating-house close to the river. They were seen to pass in there, and Lester came out alone.
‘And then, figure to yourself, Hastings, an idea of the most unreasonable seized this Mr Pearson! Nothing would suit him but that we should go ourselves to this eating-house and make investigations. I argued and prayed, but he would not listen. He talked of disguising himself—he even suggested that I—I should—I hesitate to say it—should shave off my moustache! Yes, rien que ça! I pointed out to him that that was an idea ridiculous and absurd. One destroys not a thing of beauty wantonly. Besides, shall not a Belgian gentleman with a moustache desire to see life and smoke opium just as readily as one without a moustache?
‘Eh bien, he gave in on that, but he still insisted on his project. He turned up that evening—Mon dieu, what a figure! He wore what he called the “pea-jacket”, his chin, it was dirty and unshaved; he had a scarf of the vilest that offended the nose. And figure to yourself, he was enjoying himself! Truly, the English are mad! He made some changes in my own appearance. I permitted it. Can one argue with a maniac? We started out—after all, could I let him go alone, a child dressed up to act the charades?’
‘Of course you couldn’t,’ I replied.
‘To continue—we arrived. Mr Pearson talked English of the strangest. He represented himself to be a man of the sea. He talked of “lubbers” and “focselles” and I know not what. It was a low little room with many Chinese in it. We ate of peculiar dishes. Ah, Dieu, mon estomac!’ Poirot clasped that portion of his anatomy before continuing. ‘Then there came to us the proprietor, a Chinaman with a face of evil smiles.
‘ “You gentlemen no likee food here,” he said. “You come for what you likee better. Piecee pipe, eh?”
‘Mr Pearson, he gave me the great kick under the table. (He had on the boots of the sea too!) And he said: “I don’t mind if I do, John. Lead ahead.”
‘The Chinaman smiled, and he took us through a door and to a cellar and through a trapdoor, and down some steps and up again into a room all full of divans and cushions of the most comfortable. We lay down and a Chinese boy took off our boots. It was the best moment of the evening. Then they brought us the opium-pipes and cooked the opium-pills, and we pretended to smoke and then to sleep and dream. But when we were alone, Mr Pearson called softly to me, and immediately he began crawling along the floor. We went into another room where other people were asleep, and so on, until we heard two men talking. We stayed behind a curtain and listened. They were speaking of Wu Ling.
‘ “What about the papers?” said one.
‘ “Mr Lester, he takee those,” answered the other, who was a Chinaman. “He say, puttee them allee in safee place—where pleeceman no lookee.”
‘ “Ah, but he’s nabbed,” said the first one.
‘ “He gettee free. Pleeceman not sure he done it.”
‘There was more of the same kind of thing, then apparently the two men were coming our way, and we scuttled back to our beds.
‘ “We’d better get out of here,” said Pearson, after a few minutes had elapsed. “This place isn’t healthy.”
‘ “You are right, monsieur,” I agreed. “We have played the farce long enough.”
‘We succeeded in getting away, all right, paying handsomely for our smoke. Once clear of Limehouse, Pearson drew a long breath.
‘ “I’m glad to get out of that,” he said. “But it’s something to be sure.”
‘ “It is indeed,” I agreed. “And I fancy that we shall not have much difficulty in finding what we want—after this evening’s masquerade.”
‘And there was no difficulty whatsoever,’ finished Poirot suddenly.
This abrupt ending seemed so extraordinary that I stared at him.
‘But—but where were they?’ I asked.