Poirot's Early Cases - Christie Agatha (электронная книга txt) 📗

'Why did you suspect the other two?'

'ParbleuI It is such a simple thing to be a Russian refugee or a South African millionaire. Any woman can call herself a Russian countess; anyone can buy a house in Park Lane and call himself a South African millionaire. Who is going to contradict them? But I observe that we are passing through Bury Street. Our careless young friend lives here. Let us, as you say, strike while the iron is in the fire.'

Mr Bernard Parker was at home. We found him reclining on some cushions, clad in an amazing dressing-gown of purple and orange. I have seldom taken a greater dislike to anyone than I did to this particular young man with his white, effeminate face and affected lisping speech.

'Good morning, monsieur,' said Poirot briskly. 'I come from Mr Hardman. Yesterday, at the party, somebody has stolen all his jewels. Permit me to ask you, monsieur - is this your glove?'

Mr Parker's mental processes did not seem very rapid. He stared at the glove, as though gathering his wits together.

'Where did you find it?' he asked at last.

'Is it your glove, monsieur?'

Mr Parker appeared to make up his mind.

'No, it isn't,' he declared.

'And this cigarette case, is that yours?'

'Certainly not. I always carry a silver one.'

'Very well, monsieur. I go to put matters in the hands of the police.'

'Oh, I say, I wouldn't do that if I were you,' cried Mr Parker in some concern. 'Beastly unsympathetic people, the police. Wait a bit. I'll go round and see old Hardman. Look here - oh, stop a minute.'

But Poirot beat a determined retreat.

'We have given him something to think about, have we not?' he chuckled. 'Tomorrow we will observe what has occurred.'

But we were destined to have a reminder of the Hardmon case that afternoon. Without the least warning the door flew open, and a whirlwind in human form invaded our privacy, bringing with her a swirl of sables (it was as cold as only an English June day can be) and a hat rampant with slaughtered ospreys. Countess Vera Rossakoff was a somewhat disturbing personality.

'You are Monsieur Poirot? What is this that you have done?

You accuse that poor boyl It is infamous. It is scandalous. I know him. He is a chicken, a lamb - never would he steal. He has done everything for me. Will I stand by and see him martyred and butchered?'

'Tell me, madame, is this his cigarette case?' Poirot held out the black moir case.

The Countess paused for a moment while she inspected it.

'Yes, it is his. I know it well. What of it? Did you find it in the room? We were all there; he dropped it then, I suppose. Ah, you policemen, you are worse than the Red Guards - '

'And is this his glove?'

'How should I know? One glove is like another. Do not try to stop me - he must be set free. His character must be cleared. You shall do it. I will sell my jewels and give you much money.' 'Madame - '

'It is agreed, then? No, no, do not argue. The poor boy! He came to me, the tears in his eyes. "I will save you," I said. "I will go to this man - this ogre, this monsterl Leave it to Vera." Now it is settled, I go.'

With as little ceremony as she had come, she swept from the room, leaving an overpowering perfume of an exotic nature behind her.

'What a woman? I exclaimed. 'And what fursl'

'Ah, yes, they were genuine enoughl Could a spurious countess have real furs? My little joke, Hastings… No, she is truly Russian,

I fancy. Well, well, so Master Bernard went bleating to her.' 'The cigarette case is his. I wonder if the glove is also - '

With a smile Poirot drew from his pocket a second glove and placed it by the fixst. There was no doubt of their being a pair.

'Where did you get the second one. Poirot?'

'It was thrown down with a stick on the table in the hall in Bury Street. Truly, a very careless young man, Monsieur Parker.

Well, well, rnon ami- we must be thorough. Just for the form of the thing, I will make a little visit to Park Lane.' Needless to say, I accompanied my friend. Johnston was out, but we saw his private secretary. It transpired that Johnston had only recently arrived from South Africa. He had never been in England before.

'He is interested in precious stones, is he not?' hazarded Poirot.

'Gold mining is nearer the mark,' laughed the secretary.

Poirot came away from the interview thoughtful. Late that evening, to my utter surprise, I found him earnestly studying a Russian grammar.

'Good heavens, Poirotl' I cried. 'Are you learning Russian in order to converse with the Countess in her own language?' 'She certainly would not listen to my English, my friendl' 'But surely, Poirot, well-born Russians invariably speak French?' 'You are a mine of information, Hastingst I will cease puzzling over the intricacies of the Russian alphabet.' He threw the book from him with a dramatic gesture. I was not entirely satisfied. There was a twinkle in his eye which I knew of old. It was an invariable sign that Hercule Poirot was pleased with himself.

'Perhaps,' I said sapiently, 'you doubt her being really a Russian. You are going to test her?' 'Ah, no, no, she is Russian all right.' 'Well, then ' 'If you really want to distinguish yourself over this case, Hastings, I recommend First Steps in Russian as an invaluable aid.' Then he laughed and would say no more. I picked up the book from the floor and dipped into it curiously, but could make neither head nor tail of Poirot's remarks.

The following morning brought us no news of any kind, but that did not seem to worry my little friend. At breakfast, he announced his intention of calling upon Mr Hardman early in the day. We found the elderly society butterfly at home, and seemingly a little calmer than on the previous day.

'Well, Monsieur Poirot, any news?' he demanded eagerly.

Poirot handed him a slip of paper.

'That is the person who took the jewels, monsieur. Shall I put matters in the hands of the police? Or would you prefer me to recover the jewels without bringing the police into the matter?'

Mr Hardman was staring at the paper. At last he found his voice.

'Most astonishing. I should infinitely prefer to have no scandal in the matter. I give you carte blanche, Monsieur Poirot. I am sure you will be discreet.'

Our next procedure was to hail a taxi, which Poirot ordered to drive to the Carlton. There he inquired for Countess Rossakoff.

In a few minutes we were ushered up into the lady's suite. She came to meet us with outstretched hands, arrayed in a marvellous neglig6e of barbaric design.

'Monsieur Poirot? she cried. 'You have succeeded? You have cleared that poor infant?'

'Madame la Comtesse, your friend Mr Parker is perfectly safe from arrest.'

'Ah, but you are the clever little manl Superbl And so quickly too.'

'On the other hand, I have promised Mr Hardman that the jewels shall be returned to him today.'

'So?'

'Therefore, madame, I should be extremely obliged if you would place them in my hands without delay. I am sorry to hurry you, but I am keeping a taxi - in case it should be necessary for me to go on to Scotland Yard; and we Belgians, madame, we practise the thrift.'

The Countess had lighted a cigarette. For some seconds she sat perfectly still, blowing smoke rings, and gazing steadily at Poirot.

Then she burst into a laugh, and rose. She went across to the bureau, opened a drawer, and took out a black silk handbag. She toesed it lightly to Poirot. Her tone, when she spoke, was perfectly light and unmoved.

'We Russians, on the contrary, practise prodigality,' she said.

'And to do that, unfortunately, one must have money. You need not look inside. They are all there.' Poirot arose.

'I congratulate you, madame, on your quick intelligence and your promptitude.' 'Ah! But since you were keeping your taxi waiting, what else could I do?' 'You are too amiable, madame. You are remaining long in London?' 'I am afraid not - owing to you.' 'Accept my apologies.' 'We shall meet again elsewhere, perhaps.' 'I hope so.' 'And I - do not? exclaimed the Countess with a laugh. 'It is a great compliment that I pay you there - there are very few men in the world whom I fear. Goodbye, Monsieur Poirot.' 'Goodbye, Madame la Comtesse. Ah - pardon me, I forgotl Allow me to return you your cigarette case.' And with a bow he handed to her the little black moir case we had found in the safe. She accepted it without any change of expression - just a lifted eyebrow and a murmured: 'I seel'