Taken at the Flood - Agatha Christie [45]
Book II
Chapter 1
I
Hercule Poirot carefully folded the last of the newspapers he had sent George out to purchase. The information they gave was somewhat meagre. Medical evidence was given that the man’s skull was fractured by a series of heavy blows. The inquest had been adjourned for a fortnight. Anybody who could give information about a man named Enoch Arden believed to have lately arrived from Cape Town was asked to communicate with the Chief Constable of Oastshire.
Poirot laid the papers in a neat pile and gave himself up to meditation. He was interested. He might, perhaps, have passed the first small paragraph by without interest if it had not been for the recent visit of Mrs Lionel Cloade. But that visit had recalled to him very clearly the incidents of that day at the club during that air raid. He remembered, very distinctly, Major Porter’s voice saying, ‘Maybe a Mr Enoch Arden will turn up somewhere a thousand miles away and start life anew.’ He wanted now, rather badly, to know more about this man called Enoch Arden who had died by violence at Warmsley Vale.
He remembered that he was slightly acquainted with Superintendent Spence of the Oastshire police and he also remembered that young Mellon lived not very far from Warmsley Heath, and that young Mellon knew Jeremy Cloade.
It was while he was meditating a telephone call to young Mellon that George came in and announced that a Mr Rowland Cloade would like to see him.
‘Aha,’ said Hercule Poirot with satisfaction. ‘Show him in.’
A good-looking worried young man was shown in, and seemed rather at a loss how to begin.
‘Well, Mr Cloade,’ said Poirot helpfully, ‘and what can I do for you?’
Rowley Cloade was eyeing Poirot rather doubtfully. The flamboyant moustaches, the sartorial elegance, the white spats and the pointed-patent leather shoes all filled this insular young man with distinct misgivings.
Poirot realized this perfectly well, and was somewhat amused.
Rowley Cloade began rather heavily:
‘I’m afraid I’ll have to explain who I am and all that. You won’t know my name — ’
Poirot interrupted him:
‘But yes, I know your name perfectly. Your aunt, you see, came to see me last week.’
‘My aunt?’ Rowley’s jaw dropped. He stared at Poirot with the utmost astonishment. This so clearly was news to him, that Poirot put aside his first surmise which was that the two visits were connected. For a moment it seemed to him a remarkable coincidence that two members of the Cloade family should choose to consult him within such a short period of time, but a second later he realized that there was no coincidence — merely a natural sequence proceeding from one initial cause.
Aloud he said:
‘I assume that Mrs Lionel Cloade is your aunt.’
If anything Rowley looked rather more astonished than before.
He said with the utmost incredulity:
‘Aunt Kathie? Surely — don’t you mean — Mrs Jeremy Cloade?’
Poirot shook his head.
‘But what on earth could Aunt Kathie — ’
Poirot murmured discreetly:
‘She was directed to me, I understand, by spirit guidance.’
‘Oh Lord!’ said Rowley. He looked relieved and amused. He said, as though reassuring Poirot, ‘She’s quite harmless, you know.’
‘I wonder,’ said Poirot.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Is anybody — ever — quite harmless?’
Rowley stared. Poirot sighed.
‘You have come to me to ask me something? — Yes?’ he prompted gently.
The worried look came back to Rowley’s face.
‘It’s rather a long story, I’m afraid — ’
Poirot was afraid of it, too. He had a very shrewd idea that Rowley Cloade was not the sort of person to come to the point quickly. He leaned back and half-closed his eyes as Rowley began:
‘My uncle, you see, was Gordon Cloade — ’
‘I know all about Gordon Cloade,’ said Poirot, helpfully.
‘Good. Then I needn’t explain. He married a few weeks before his death — a young widow called Underhay. Since his death she has been living at Warmsley Vale — she and a brother of hers. We all understood that her first husband had died of fever in Africa. But now it seems