Black Coffee (Hercule Poirot 7)

His sister’s countenance registered a certain annoyance at the aspersion cast on the coffee, which she took as a direct criticism of her housekeeping. She was about to say something, when Richard Amory spoke. ‘What detective?’ he asked his father.

‘His name is Hercule Poirot,’ replied Sir Claud. ‘He is a Belgian.’

‘But why?’ Richard persisted. ‘Why did you send for him?’

‘A leading question,’ said his father, with an unpleasantly grim smile. ‘Now we come to the point. For some time past, as most of you know, I have been engaged in atomic research. I have made a discovery of a new explosive. Its force is such that everything hitherto attempted in that line will be mere child’s play beside it. Most of this you know already –’

Carelli got to his feet quickly. ‘I did not know,’ he exclaimed eagerly. ‘I am much interested to hear of this.’

‘Indeed, Dr Carelli?’ Sir Claud invested the conventionally meaningless phrase with a curious significance, and Carelli, in some embarrassment, resumed his seat.

‘As I was saying,’ Sir Claud continued, ‘the force of Amorite, as I call it, is such that where we have hitherto killed by thousands, we can now kill by hundreds of thousands.’

‘How horrible,’ exclaimed Lucia, with a shudder. ‘My dear Lucia,’ her father-in-law smiled thinly at her as he spoke, ‘the truth is never horrible, only interesting.’

‘But why –’ asked Richard, ‘are you telling us all this?’

‘Because I have had occasion for some time to believe that a member of this household was attempting to steal the Amorite formula. I had asked Monsieur Poirot to join us tomorrow for the weekend, so that he could take the formula back to London with him on Monday, and deliver it personally to an official at the Ministry of Defence.’

‘But, Claud, that’s absurd. Indeed, it’s highly offensive to all of us,’ Caroline Amory expostulated. ‘You can’t seriously suspect –’

‘I have not finished, Caroline,’ her brother interrupted. ‘And I assure you there is nothing absurd about what I am saying. I repeat, I had invited Hercule Poirot to join us tomorrow, but I have had to change my plans and ask Monsieur Poirot to hurry down here from London this evening. I have taken this step because –’

Sir Claud paused. When he resumed speaking, it was more slowly, and with a much more deliberate emphasis. ‘Because,’ he repeated, as his glance swept around the assembled company, ‘the formula, written on an ordinary sheet of notepaper and enclosed in a long envelope, was stolen from the safe in my study some time before dinner this evening. It was stolen by someone in this room!’

A chorus of shocked exclamations greeted the eminent scientist’s announcement. Then everyone began to speak at once. ‘Stolen formula?’ Caroline Amory began.

‘What? From the safe? Impossible!’ Edward Raynor exclaimed.

The babble of voices did not include that of Dr Carelli, who remained seated, with a thoughtful expression on his face. The others, however, were silenced only when Sir Claud raised his voice and continued.

‘I am in the habit of being certain of my facts,’ he assured his hearers. ‘At twenty minutes past seven exactly, I placed the formula in the safe. As I left the study, Raynor here entered it.’

Blushing either from embarrassment or from anger, the secretary began, ‘Sir Claud, really, I must protest –’

Sir Claud raised a hand to silence him. ‘Raynor remained in the study,’ he went on, ‘and was still there, working, when Dr Carelli appeared at the door. After greeting him, Raynor left Carelli alone in the study while he went to let Lucia know –’

‘I protest – I –’ Carelli began, but again Sir Claud raised his hand for silence, and continued his narrative. ‘Raynor, however,’ he said, ‘did not get further than the door of this room where he met my sister Caroline, with Barbara. The three of them remained in this room, and Dr Carelli joined them. Caroline and Barbara were the only two members of the party who did not enter the study.’

Barbara glanced at her aunt, and then addressed Sir Claud. ‘I’m afraid your information about our movements isn’t quite correct, Uncle Claud,’ she said. ‘I can’t be excluded from your list of suspects. Do you remember, Aunt Caroline? You sent me into the study to look for a knitting needle you said you’d mislaid. You wondered if it might be in there.’

Ignoring his niece’s interruption, the scientist continued. ‘Richard came down next. He strolled into the study by himself and remained there for some minutes.’

‘My God!’ Richard exclaimed. ‘Really, father, you surely don’t suspect that I’d steal your wretched formula, do you?’

Looking directly at his son, Sir Claud replied, meaningfully, ‘That piece of paper was worth a great deal of money.’

‘I see.’ His son regarded him steadily. ‘And I’m in debt. That’s what you mean, isn’t it?’

Sir Claud made no reply to him. His gaze sweeping over the others, he continued. ‘As I was saying, Richard remained in the study for some minutes. He reappeared in this room just as Lucia came in. When dinner was announced, a few minutes later, Lucia was no longer with us. I found her in the study, standing by the safe.’

‘Father!’ exclaimed Richard, moving to his wife and putting an arm protectively about her.

‘I repeat, standing by the safe,’ Sir Claud insisted. ‘She seemed very much agitated, and when I asked what was the matter she told me she felt unwell. I suggested that a glass of wine might be good for her. She assured me, however, that she was quite all right again, and then left me to join the others. Instead of following Lucia immediately to the dining-room, I remained behind in my study. I don’t know why, but some instinct urged me to look in the safe. The envelope with the formula in it had disappeared.’

There was a pause. No one spoke. The immense seriousness of the situation appeared to be dawning on everyone. Then Richard asked, ‘How have you assembled this information about our movements, father?’

‘By taking thought, of course,’ Sir Claud replied. ‘By observation and deduction. By the evidence of my own eyes, and by what I learned from questioning Tredwell.’

‘I notice you don’t include Tredwell or any of the other servants among your suspects, Claud,’ Caroline Amory observed tartly. ‘Only your family.’

‘My family – and our guest,’ her brother corrected her. ‘That is so, Caroline. I have established to my own satisfaction that neither Tredwell nor any of the domestics were in the study between the time I placed the formula in the safe and the time I opened the safe again to find it missing.’

He looked at each of them in turn, before adding, ‘I hope the position is clear to you all. Whoever took the formula must still have it. Since we returned here from dinner, the dining-room has been thoroughly searched. Tredwell would have informed me if the piece of paper had been found hidden there. And, as you now realize, I have seen to it that no one has had the opportunity to leave this room.’

For some moments there was a tense silence, broken only when Dr Carelli asked, politely, ‘Is it your suggestion, then, Sir Claud, that we should all be searched?’

‘That is not my suggestion,’ replied Sir Claud, consulting his watch. ‘It is now two minutes to nine. Hercule Poirot will have arrived at Market Cleve, where he is being met. At nine o’clock precisely, Tredwell has orders to switch off the lights from the main switch in the basement. We shall be in complete darkness in this room, for one minute, and one minute only. When the lights go on again, matters will be out of my hands. Hercule Poirot will be here shortly,

and he will be in charge of the case. But if, under cover of darkness, the formula is placed here,’ and Sir Claud slapped his hand down on the table, ‘then I shall inform Monsieur Poirot that I had made a mistake and that I have no need of his services.’

‘That’s an outrageous suggestion,’ Richard declared heatedly. He looked around at the others. ‘I say we should all be searched. I’m certainly willing.’

‘So am I, of course,’ Edward Raynor made haste to announce.

Richard Amory looked pointedly at Dr Carelli. The Italian smiled and shrugged his shoulders. ‘And I.’

Richard’s glance moved to his aunt. ‘Very well, if we must, we must,’ Miss Amory grumbled.

‘Lucia?’ Richard asked, turning to his wife.

‘No, no, Richard,’ Lucia replied breathily. ‘Your father’s plan is best.’

Richard looked at her in silence for a moment.

‘Well, Richard?’ queried Sir Claud.

A heavy sigh was at first his only reply, and then, ‘Very well, I agree.’ He looked at his cousin Barbara who gave a gesture of assent.

Sir Claud leaned back in his chair, wearily, and spoke in a slow, dragging voice. ‘The taste of that coffee is still in my mouth,’ he said, and then yawned.

The clock on the mantelpiece began to strike, and there was complete silence as all turned to listen. Sir Claud turned slowly in his chair and looked steadily at his son Richard. On the last stroke of nine, the lights suddenly went out and the room was plunged into darkness.

There were a few gasps, and some stifled exclamations from the women, and then Miss Amory’s voice rang out clearly. ‘I don’t care for this at all.’

‘Do be quiet, Aunt Caroline,’ Barbara ordered her. ‘I’m trying to listen.’

For a few seconds there was absolute silence, followed by the sounds of heavy breathing, and then a rustling of paper. Silence again, before they all heard a kind of metallic clink, the sound of something tearing, and a loud bang, which must surely have been a chair being knocked over.

Suddenly, Lucia screamed. ‘Sir Claud! Sir Claud! I can’t bear it. I must have light. Somebody, please!’