Cards on the Table (Hercule Poirot 15)

“That’s fairly comprehensive, Dr. Roberts. I’m glad you’ve got a sense of humour. Now I’m going to ask you one more thing.”

“I’m a strictly moral man, superintendent.”

“Oh, that wasn’t my meaning. No, I was going to ask you if you’d give me the names of four friends—people who’ve known you intimately for a number of years. Kind of references, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I think so. Let me see now. You’d prefer people who are actually in London now?”

“It would make it a bit easier, but it doesn’t really matter.”

The doctor thought for a minute or two, then with his fountain pen he scribbled four names and addresses on a sheet of paper and pushed it across the desk to Battle.

“Will those do? They’re the best I can think of on the spur of the moment.”

Battle read carefully, nodded his head in satisfaction and put the sheet of paper away in an inner pocket.

“It’s just a question of elimination,” he said. “The sooner I can get one person eliminated and go onto the next, the better it is for everyone concerned. I’ve got to make perfectly certain that you weren’t on bad terms with the late Mr. Shaitana, that you had no private connections or business dealings with him, that there was no question of his having injured you at any time and your bearing resentment. I may believe you when you say you only knew him slightly—but it isn’t a question of my belief. I’ve got to say I’ve made sure.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly. You’ve got to think everybody’s a liar till he’s proved he’s speaking the truth. Here are my keys, superintendent. That’s the drawers of the desk—that’s the bureau—that little one’s the key of the poison cupboard. Be sure to lock it up again. Perhaps I’d better just have a word with my secretary.”

He pressed a button on his desk.

Almost immediately the door opened and a competent-looking young woman appeared.

“You rang, doctor?”

“This is Miss Burgess—Superintendent Battle from Scotland Yard.”

Miss Burgess turned a cool gaze on Battle. It seemed to say:

“Dear me, what sort of an animal is this?”

“I should be glad, Miss Burgess, if you will answer any questions Superintendent Battle may put to you, and give him any help he may need.”

“Certainly, if you say so, doctor.”

“Well,” said Roberts, rising, “I’ll be off. Did you put the morphia in my case? I shall need it for the Lockheart case.”

He bustled out, still talking, and Miss Burgess followed him.

“Will you press that button when you want me, Superintendent Battle?”

Superintendent Battle thanked her and said he would do so. Then he set to work.

His search was careful and methodical, though he had no great hopes of finding anything of importance. Roberts’ ready acquiescence dispelled the chance of that. Roberts was no fool. He would realize that a search would be bound to come and he would make provisions accordingly. There was, however, a faint chance that Battle might come across a hint of the information he was really after, since Roberts would not know the real object of his search.

Superintendent Battle opened and shut drawers, rifled pigeonholes, glanced through a chequebook, estimated the unpaid bills—noted what those same bills were for, scrutinized Roberts’ passbook, ran throu

gh his case notes and generally left no written document unturned. The result was meagre in the extreme. He next took a look through the poison cupboard, noted the wholesale firms with which the doctor dealt, and the system of checking, relocked the cupboard and passed on to the bureau. The contents of the latter were of a more personal nature, but Battle found nothing germane to his search. He shook his head, sat down in the doctor’s chair and pressed the desk button.

Miss Burgess appeared with commendable promptitude.

Superintendent Battle asked her politely to be seated and then sat studying her for a moment, before he decided which way to tackle her. He had sensed immediately her hostility and he was uncertain whether to provoke her into unguarded speech by increasing that hostility or whether to try a softer method of approach.

“I suppose you know what all this is about, Miss Burgess?” he said at last.

“Dr. Roberts told me,” said Miss Burgess shortly.

“The whole thing’s rather delicate,” said Superintendent Battle.