The Mystery of the Blue Train - Agatha Christie [37]
“M. Van Aldin,” he said, “desires action—swift action.”
“Ah!” cried the Commissary, “I have not yet presented you. M. Van Aldin, this is M. Hercule Poirot; you have doubtless heard of him. Although he has retired from his profession for some years now, his name is still a household word as one of the greatest living detectives.”
“Pleased to meet you, M. Poirot,” said Van Aldin, falling back mechanically on a formula that he had discarded some years ago. “You have retired from your profession?”
“That is so, Monsieur. Now I enjoy the world.”
The little man made a grandiloquent gesture.
“M. Poirot happened to be travelling on the Blue Train,” explained the Commissary, “and he has been so kind as to assist us out of his vast experience.”
The millionaire looked at Poirot keenly. Then he said unexpectedly:
“I am a very rich man, M. Poirot. It is usually said that a rich man labours under the belief that he can buy everything and everyone. That is not true. I am a big man in my way, and one big man can ask a favour from another big man.”
Poirot nodded a quick appreciation.
“That is very well said, M. Van Aldin. I place myself entirely at your service.”
“Thank you,” said Van Aldin. “I can only say call upon me at any time, and you will not find me ungrateful. And now, gentlemen, to business.”
“I propose,” said M. Carrège, “to interrogate the maid, Ada Mason. You have her here, I understand?”
“Yes,” said Van Aldin. “We picked her up in Paris in passing through. She was very upset to hear of her mistress’s death, but she tells her story coherently enough.”
“We will have her in, then,” said M. Carrège.
He rang the bell on his desk, and in a few minutes Ada Mason entered the room.
She was very neatly dressed in black, and the tip of her nose was red. She had exchanged her grey travelling gloves for a pair of black suède ones. She cast a look round the Examining Magistrate’s office in some trepidation, and seemed relieved at the presence of her mistress’s father. The Examining Magistrate prided himself on his geniality of manner, and did his best to put her at her ease. He was helped in this by Poirot, who acted as interpreter, and whose friendly manner was reassuring to the Englishwoman.
“Your name is Ada Mason; is that right?”
“Ada Beatrice I was christened, sir,” said Mason primly.
“Just so. And we can understand, Mason, that this has all been very distressing.”
“Oh, indeed it has, sir. I have been with many ladies and always given satisfaction, I hope, and I never dreamt of anything of this kind happening in any situation where I was.”
“No, no,” said M. Carrège.
“Naturally, I have read of such things, of course, in the Sunday papers. And then I always have understood that those foreign trains—” She suddenly checked her flow, remembering that the gentlemen who were speaking to her were of the same nationality as the trains.
“Now let us talk this affair over,” said M. Carrège. “There was, I understand, no question of your staying in Paris when you started from London?”
“Oh no, sir. We were to go straight through to Nice.”
“Have you ever been abroad with your mistress before?”
“No, sir. I had only been with her two months, you see.”
“Did she seem quite as usual when starting on this journey?”
“She was worried like and a bit upset, and she was rather irritable and difficult to please.”
M. Carrège nodded.
“Now then, Mason, what was the first you heard of your stopping in Paris?”
“It was at the place they call the Gare de Lyon, sir. My mistress was thinking of getting out and walking up and down the platform. She was just going out into the corridor when she gave a sudden exclamation, and came back into her compartment with a gentleman. She shut the door between her carriage and mine, so that I didn’t see or hear anything, till she suddenly opened it again and told me that she had changed her plans. She gave me some money and told me to get out and go to the Ritz. They knew her well there, she said, and would give me