Murder in the Mews (Hercule Poirot 18)

Poirot smiled.

“I think it possible that someone may have seen something. I should set the inquiries in motion if I were you.”

Ten

I

Poirot stepped back, his head a little on one side as he surveyed the arrangement of the room. A chair here—another chair there. Yes, that was very nice. And now a ring at the bell—that would be Japp.

The Scotland Yard man came in alertly.

“Quite right, old cock! Straight from the horse’s mouth. A young woman was seen to throw something into the lake at Wentworth yesterday. Description of her answers to Jane Plenderleith. We managed to fish it up without much difficulty. A lot of reeds just there.”

“And it was?”

“It was the attaché case all right! But why, in heaven’s name? Well, it beats me! Nothing inside it—not even the magazines.

Why a presumably sane young woman should want to fling an expensively-fitted dressing case into a lake—d’you know, I worried all night because I couldn’t get the hang of it.”

“Mon pauvre Japp! But you need worry no longer. Here is the answer coming. The bell has just rung.”

George, Poirot’s immaculate manservant, opened the door and announced:

“Miss Plenderleith.”

The girl came into the room with her usual air of complete self-assurance. She greeted the two men.

“I asked you to come here—” explained Poirot. “Sit here, will you not, and you here, Japp—because I have certain news to give you.”

The girl sat down. She looked from one to the other, pushing aside her hat. She took it off and laid it aside impatiently.

“Well,” she said. “Major Eustace has been arrested.”

“You saw that, I expect, in the morning paper?”

“Yes.”

“He is at the moment charged with a minor offence,” went on Poirot. “In the meantime we are gathering evidence in connection with the murder.”

“It was murder, then?”

The girl asked it eagerly.

Poirot nodded his head.

“Yes,” he said. “It was murder. The wilful destruction of one human being by another human being.”

She shivered a little.

“Don’t,” she murmured. “It sounds horrible when you say it like that.”

“Yes—but it is horrible!”

He paused—then he said:

“Now, Miss Plenderleith, I am going to tell you just how I arrived at the truth in this matter.”

She looked from Poirot to Japp. The latter was smiling.