The Labors of Hercules - Agatha Christie [90]
“The Marchese, a very punctilious person, offered to refund it to me as the cup had been stolen from his house.”
“But you did not accept?”
“No.”
“Why was that?”
“Shall we say because I preferred to keep the matter in my own hands?”
“You mean that if you had accepted the Marchese’s offer, the goblet, if recovered, would be his property, whereas now it is legally yours?”
“Exactly.”
“What was there behind that attitude of yours?”
Emery Power said with a smile:
“You appreciate that point, I see. Well, M. Poirot, it is quite simple. I thought I knew who was actually in possession of the goblet.”
“Very interesting. And who was it?”
“Sir Reuben Rosenthal. He was not only a fellow collector but he was at the time a personal enemy. We had been rivals in several business deals—and on the whole I had come out the better. Our animosity culminated in this rivalry over the Borgia Goblet. Each of us was determined to possess it. It was more or less a point of honour. Our appointed representatives bid against each other at the sale.”
“And your representative’s final bid secured the treasure?”
“Not precisely. I took the precaution of having a second agent—ostensibly the representative of a Paris dealer. Neither of us, you understand, would have been willing to yield to the other, but to allow a third party to acquire the cup, with the possibility of approaching that third party quietly afterwards—that was a very different matter.”
“In fact, une petite déception.”
“Exactly.”
“Which was successful—and immediately afterwards Sir Reuben discovered how he had been tricked?”
Power smiled.
It was a revealing smile.
Poirot said: “I see the position now. You believed that Sir Reuben, determined not to be beaten, deliberately commissioned the theft?”
Emery Power raised a hand.
“Oh no, no! It would not be so crude as that. It amounted to this—shortly afterwards Sir Reuben would have purchased a Renaissance goblet, provenance unspecified.”
“The description of which would have been circulated by the police?”
“The goblet would not have been placed openly on view.”
“You think it would have been sufficient for Sir Reuben to know that he possessed it?”
“Yes. Moreover, if I had accepted the Marchese’s offer—it would have been possible for Sir Reuben to conclude a private arrangement with him later, thus allowing the goblet to pass legally into his possession.”
He paused a minute and then said:
“But my retaining the legal ownership, there were still possibilities left open to me of recovering my property.”
“You mean,” said Poirot bluntly, “that you could arrange for it to be stolen from Sir Reuben.”
“Not stolen, M. Poirot. I should have been merely recovering my own property.”
“But I gather that you were not successful?”
“For a very good reason. Rosenthal has never had the goblet in his possession!”
“How do you know?”
“Recently there has been a merger of oil interests. Rosenthal’s interests and mine now coincide. We are allies and not enemies. I spoke to him frankly on the subject and he at once assured me that the cup had never been in his possession.”
“And you believe him?”
“Yes.”
Poirot said thoughtfully:
“Then for nearly ten years you have been, as they say in this country, barking up the mistaken tree?”
The financier said bitterly:
“Yes, that is exactly what I have been doing!”
“And now—it is all to start again from the beginning?”
The other nodded.
“And that is where I come in? I am the dog that you set upon the cold scent—a very cold scent.”
Emery Power said drily:
“If the affair were easy it would not have been necessary for me to send for you. Of course, if you think it impossible—”
He had found the right word. Hercule Poirot drew himself up. He said coldly:
“I do not recognize the word impossible, Monsieur! I ask myself only—is this affair sufficiently interesting for me to undertake?”
Emery Power smiled again. He said:
“It has this interest—you may name your own fee.”
The small man looked at the big man. He said softly:
“Do you then desire this work of art so much? Surely not!”
Emery Power said: