The Thirteen Problems - Agatha Christie [74]
‘Why did the police arrest him?’ asked Dr Lloyd.
‘Oh! didn’t I tell you?’ said Jane opening her eyes very wide. ‘How very stupid I am. The burglary.’
‘You mentioned a burglary—but you didn’t say where or what or why,’ said Mrs Bantry.
‘Well, this bungalow—the one he went to, of course—it wasn’t mine at all. It belonged to a man whose name was—’
Again Jane furrowed her brows.
‘Do you want me to be godfather again?’ asked Sir Henry. ‘Pseudonyms supplied free of charge. Describe the tenant and I’ll do the naming.’
‘It was taken by a rich city man—a knight.’
‘Sir Herman Cohen,’ suggested Sir Henry.
‘That will do beautifully. He took it for a lady—she was the wife of an actor, and she was also an actress herself.’
‘We’ll call the actor Claud Leason,’ said Sir Henry, ‘and the lady would be known by her stage name, I suppose, so we’ll call her Miss Mary Kerr.’
‘I think you’re awfully clever,’ said Jane. ‘I don’t know how you think of these things so easily. Well, you see this was a sort of week-end cottage for Sir Herman—did you say Herman?—and the lady. And, of course, his wife knew nothing about it.’
‘Which is so often the case,’ said Sir Henry.
‘And he’d given this actress woman a good deal of jewellery including some very fine emeralds.’
‘Ah!’ said Dr Lloyd. ‘Now we’re getting at it.’
‘This jewellery was at the bungalow, just locked up in a jewel case. The police said it was very careless—anyone might have taken it.’
‘You see, Dolly,’ said Colonel Bantry. ‘What do I always tell you?’
‘Well, in my experience,’ said Mrs Bantry, ‘it’s always the people who are so dreadfully careful who lose things. I don’t lock mine up in a jewel case—I keep it in a drawer loose, under my stockings. I dare say if—what’s her name?—Mary Kerr had done the same, it would never have been stolen.’
‘It would,’ said Jane, ‘because all the drawers were burst open, and the contents strewn about.’
‘Then they weren’t really looking for jewels,’ said Mrs Bantry. ‘They were looking for secret papers. That’s what always happens in books.’
‘I don’t know about secret papers,’ said Jane doubtfully. ‘I never heard of any.’
‘Don’t be distracted, Miss Helier,’ said Colonel Bantry. ‘Dolly’s wild red-herrings are not to be taken seriously.’
‘About the burglary,’ said Sir Henry.
‘Yes. Well, the police were rung up by someone who said she was Miss Mary Kerr. She said the bungalow had been burgled and described a young man with red hair who had called there that morning. Her maid had thought there was something odd about him and had refused him admittance, but later they had seen him getting out through a window. She described the man so accurately that the police arrested him only an hour later and then he told his story and showed them the letter from me. And as I told you, they fetched me and when he saw me he said what I told you—that it hadn’t been me at all!’
‘A very curious story,’ said Dr Lloyd. ‘Did Mr Faulkener know this Miss Kerr?’
‘No, he didn’t—or he said he didn’t. But I haven’t told you the most curious part yet. The police went to the bungalow of course, and they found everything as described—drawers pulled out and jewels gone, but the whole place was empty. It wasn’t till some hours later that Mary Kerr came back, and when she did she said she’d never rung them up at all and this was the first she’d heard of it. It seemed that she had had a wire that morning from a manager offering her a most important part and making an appointment, so she had naturally rushed up to town to keep it. When she got there, she found that the whole thing was a hoax. No telegram had ever been sent.’
‘A common enough ruse to get her out of the way,’ commented Sir Henry. ‘What about the servants?’
‘The same sort of thing happened there. There was only one, and she was rung up on the telephone—apparently by Mary Kerr, who said she had left a most important thing behind. She directed the maid to bring up a certain