Murder in the Mews (Hercule Poirot 18)

“I see what you mean. It isn’t consistent.”

“Strange alteration of moods in Sir Gervase Chevenix-Gore! He is preoccupied—he is seriously upset—he is normal—he is in high spirits! There is something very curious here! And then that phrase he used, ‘Too late.’ That I should get here ‘Too late.’ Well, it is true that. I did get here too late—to see him alive.”

“I see. You really think—?”

“I shall never know now why Sir Gervase sent for me! That is certain!”

Poirot was still wandering round the room. He straightened one or two objects on the mantelpiece; he examined a card table that stood against a wall, he opened the drawer of it and took out the bridge-markers. Then he wandered over to the writing table and peered into the wastepaper basket. There was nothing in it but a paper bag. Poirot took it out, smelt it, murmured “Oranges” and flattened it out, reading the name on it. “Carpenter and Sons, Fruiterers, Hamborough St. Mary.” He was just folding it neatly into sq

uares when Colonel Bury entered the room.

Eight

The Colonel dropped into a chair, shook his head, sighed and said:

“Terrible business, this, Riddle. Lady Chevenix-Gore is being wonderful—wonderful. Grand woman! Full of courage!”

Coming softly back to his chair, Poirot said:

“You have known her very many years, I think?”

“Yes, indeed, I was at her coming out dance. Wore rosebuds in her hair, I remember. And a white, fluffy dress . . . Wasn’t anyone to touch her in the room!”

His voice was full of enthusiasm. Poirot held out the pencil to him.

“This is yours, I think?”

“Eh? What? Oh, thank you, had it this afternoon when we were playing bridge. Amazing, you know, I held a hundred honours in spades three times running. Never done such a thing before.”

“You were playing bridge before tea, I understand?” said Poirot. “What was Sir Gervase’s frame of mind when he came in to tea?”

“Usual—quite usual. Never dreamed he was thinking of making away with himself. Perhaps he was a little more excitable than usual, now I come to think of it.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Why, then! Teatime. Never saw the poor chap alive again.”

“You didn’t go to the study at all after tea?”

“No, never saw him again.”

“What time did you come down to dinner?”

“After the first gong went.”

“You and Lady Chevenix-Gore came down together?”

“No, we—er—met in the hall. I think she’d been into the dining room to see to the flowers—something like that.”

Major Riddle said:

“I hope you won’t mind, Colonel Bury, if I ask you a somewhat personal question. Was there any trouble between you and Sir Gervase over the question of the Paragon Synthetic Rubber Company?”

Colonel Bury’s face became suddenly purple. He spluttered a little.

“Not at all. Not at all. Old Gervase was an unreasonable sort of fellow. You’ve got to remember that. He always expected everything he touched to turn out trumps! Didn’t seem to realize that the whole world was going through a period of crisis. All stocks and shares bound to be affected.”

“So there was a certain amount of trouble between you?”