‘Please, Barbara.’
‘Oh, very well, you know best,’ said Barbara as she moved to the door, which Hastings rushed to open for her. When she had gone, Lucia moved to a chair and sat down. ‘Monsieur Poirot –’ she began.
‘I am at your service, madame,’ Poirot responded politely.
Lucia spoke hesitantly, and her voice trembled a little. ‘Monsieur Poirot,’ she began again, ‘last night I made a request to you. I asked you to stay on here. I – I begged you to do so. This morning I see that I made a mistake.’
‘Are you sure, madame?’ Poirot asked her quietly.
‘Quite sure. I was nervous last night, and over-wrought. I am most grateful to you for doing what I asked, but now it is better that you should go.’
‘Ah, c’est comme ça!’ Poirot murmured beneath his breath. Aloud, his response was merely a noncommittal, ‘I see, madame.’
Rising, Lucia glanced at him nervously as she asked, ‘That is settled, then?’
‘Not quite, madame,’ replied Poirot, taking a step towards her. ‘If you remember, you expressed a doubt that your father-in-law had died a natural death.’
‘I was hysterical last night,’ Lucia insisted. ‘I did not know what I was saying.’
‘Then you are now convinced,’ Poirot persisted, ‘that his death was, after all, natural?’
‘Absolutely,’ Lucia declared.
Poirot’s eyebrows rose a trifle. He looked at her in silence.
‘Why do you look at me like that?’ Lucia asked with alarm in her voice.
‘Because, madame, it is sometimes difficult to set a dog on the scent. But once he has found it, nothing on earth will make him leave it. Not if he is a good dog. And I, madame, I, Hercule Poirot, am a very good dog!’
In great agitation, Lucia declared, ‘Oh! But you must, you really must go. I beg you, I implore you. You don’t know what harm you may do by remaining!’
‘Harm?’ asked Poirot. ‘To you, madame?’
‘To all of us, Monsieur Poirot. I can’t explain further, but I beg you to accept my word that it is so. From the first moment I saw you, I trusted you. Please –’
She broke off as the door opened, and Richard, looking shocked, entered with Dr Graham. ‘Lucia!’ her husband exclaimed as he caught sight of her.
‘Richard, what is it?’ asked Lucia anxiously as she rushed to his side. ‘What has happened? Something new has happened, I can see it in your face. What is it?’
‘Nothing, my dear,’ replied Richard with an attempt at reassurance in his tone. ‘Do you mind leaving us for a moment?’
Lucia’s eyes searched his face. ‘Can’t I –’ she began, but hesitated as Richard moved to the door and opened it. ‘Please,’ he repeated.
With a final backward glance in which there was a distinct element of fear, Lucia left the room.
Chapter 11
Putting his Gladstone bag on the coffee table, Dr Graham crossed to the settee and sat down. ‘I’m afraid this is a bad business, Monsieur Poirot,’ he announced to the detective.
‘A bad business, you say? Yes? You have discovered what caused the death of Sir Claud?’ asked Poirot.
‘His death was due to poisoning by a powerful vegetable alkaloid,’ Graham declared.
‘Such as hyoscine, perhaps?’ Poirot suggested, picking up the tin box of drugs from the table.
‘Why, yes, exactly.’ Dr Graham sounded surprised at the detective’s accurate surmise. Poirot took the case to the other side of the room, placing it on the gramophone table, and Hastings followed him there. Meanwhile, Richard Amory joined the doctor on the settee. ‘What does this mean, actually?’ Richard asked Dr Graham.
‘For one thing, it means the involvement of the police,’ was Graham’s prompt reply.
‘My God!’ exclaimed Richard. ‘This is terrible. Can’t you possibly hush it up?’
Dr Graham looked at Richard Amory steadily before he spoke, slowly and deliberately. ‘My dear Richard,’ he said. ‘Believe me, nobody could be more pained and grieved at this horrible calamity than I am. Especially since, under the circumstances, it does not seem likely that the poison could have been self-administered.’
Richard paused for several seconds before he spoke. ‘Are you saying it was murder?’ he asked in an unsteady voice.
Dr Graham did not speak, but nodded solemnly.
‘Murder!’ exclaimed Richard. ‘What on earth are we going to do?’
Adopting a brisker, more business-like manner, Graham explained the procedure to be followed. ‘I have notified the coroner. The inquest will be held tomorrow at the King’s Arms.’
‘And – you mean – the police will have to be involved? There’s no way out of it?’
‘There is not. Surely you must realize that, Richard?’ said Dr Graham.
Richard’s tone was frantic as he began to exclaim, ‘But why didn’t you warn me that –’
‘Come on, Richard. Take a hold of yourself. I’m sure you understand that I have only taken such steps as I thought absolutely necessary,’ Graham interrupted him. ‘After all, no time should be lost in matters of this kind.’
‘My God!’ exclaimed Richard.
Dr Graham addressed Amory in a kindlier tone. ‘Richard, I know. I do understand. This has been a terrible shock to you. But there are things I must ask you about. Do you feel equal to answering a few questions?’
Richard made a visible effort to pull himself together. ‘What do you want to know?’ he asked.
‘First of all,’ said Graham, ‘what food and drink did your father have at dinner last night
?’
‘Let’s see, we all had the same. Soup, fried sole, cutlets, and we finished off with a fruit salad.’
‘Now, what about drink?’ continued Dr Graham.
Richard considered for a moment before replying. ‘My father and my aunt drank burgundy. So did Raynor, I think. I stuck with whisky and soda, and Dr Carelli – yes, Dr Carelli drank white wine throughout the meal.’
‘Ah, yes, the mysterious Dr Carelli,’ Graham murmured. ‘You’ll excuse me, Richard, but how much precisely do you know about this man?’
Interested to hear Richard Amory’s reply to this, Hastings moved closer to the two men. In answer to Dr Graham, Richard declared, ‘I know nothing about him. I’d never met him, or even heard of him, until yesterday.’
‘But he is a friend of your wife?’ asked the doctor.
‘Apparently he is.’
‘Does she know him intimately?’
‘Oh, no, he is a mere acquaintance, I gather.’
Graham made a little clicking sound with his tongue, and shook his head. ‘You’ve not allowed him to leave the house, I hope?’ he asked.
‘No, no,’ Richard assured him. ‘I pointed out to him last night that, until this matter was cleared up – the business of the formula being stolen, I mean – it would be best for him to remain here at the house. In fact, I sent down to the inn where he had a room, and had his things brought up here.’
‘Didn’t he make any protest at all?’ Graham asked in some surprise.
‘Oh, no, in fact he agreed quite eagerly.’
‘H’m,’ was Graham’s only response to this. Then, looking about him, he asked, ‘Well now, what about this room?’
Poirot approached the two men. ‘The doors were locked last night by Tredwell, the butler,’ he assured Dr Graham, ‘and the keys were given to me. Everything is exactly as it was, except that we have moved the chairs, as you see.’
Dr Graham looked at the coffee cup on the table. Pointing to it, he asked, ‘Is that the cup?’ He went across to the table, picked up the cup and sniffed at it. ‘Richard,’ he asked, ‘is this the cup your father drank from? I’d better take it. It will have to be analysed.’ Carrying the cup over to the coffee table, he opened his bag.