‘And what did Mrs Allen reply?’
‘She said she’d give me a ring. That is, as near as I can remember.’
‘And then you said, “All right. So long.”’
‘Probably. Something of the kind anyway.’
Japp said quietly:
‘You say that Mrs Allen asked you to advise her about her investments. Did she, by any chance, entrust you with the sum of two hundred pounds in cash to invest for her?’
Eustace’s face flushed a dark purple. He leaned forward and growled out:
‘What the devil do you mean by that?’
‘Did she or did she not?’
‘That’s my business, Mr Chief Inspector.’
Japp said quietly:
‘Mrs Allen drew out the sum of two hundred pounds in cash from her bank. Some of the money was in five-pound notes. The numbers of these can, of course, be traced.’
‘What if she did?’
‘Was the money for investment—or was it—blackmail, Major Eustace?’
‘That’s a preposterous idea. What next will you suggest?’
Japp said in his most official manner:
‘I think, Major Eustace, that at this point I must ask you if you are willing to come to Scotland Yard and make a statement. There is, of course, no compulsion and you can, if you prefer it, have your solicitor present.’
‘Solicitor? What the devil should I want with a solicitor? And what are you cautioning me for?’
‘I am inquiring into the circumstances of the death of Mrs Allen.’
‘Good God, man, you don’t suppose—Why, that’s nonsense! Look here, what happened was this. I called round to see Barbara by appointment…’
‘That was at what time?’
‘At about half-past nine, I should say. We sat and talked…’
‘And smoked?’
‘Yes, and smoked. Anything damaging in that?’ demanded the major belligerently.
‘Where did this conversation take place?’
‘In the sitting-room. Left of the door as you go in. We talked together quite amicably, as I say. I left a little before half-past ten. I stayed for a minute on the doorstep for a few last words…’
‘Last words—precisely,’ murmured Poirot.
‘Who are you, I’d like to know?’ Eustace turned and spart the words at him. ‘Some kind of damned dago! What are you butting in for?’
‘I am Hercule Poirot,’ said the little man with dignity.
‘I don’t care if you are the Achilles statue. As I say, Barbara and I parted quite amicably. I drove straight to the Far East Club. Got there at five and twenty to eleven and went straight up to the card-room. Stayed there playing bridge until one-thirty. Now then, put that in your pipe and smoke it.’
‘I do not smoke the pipe,’ said Poirot. ‘It is a pretty alibi you have there.’
‘It should be a pretty cast iron one anyway! Now then, sir,’ he looked at Japp. ‘Are you satisfied?’
‘You remained in the sitting-room throughout your visit?’
‘Yes.’
‘You did not go upstairs to Mrs Allen’s own boudoir?’
‘No, I tell you. We stayed in the one room and didn’t leave it.’
Japp looked at him thoughtfully for a minute or two. Then he said:
‘How many sets of cuff links have you?’
‘Cuff links? Cuff links? What’s that got to do with it?’
‘You are not bound to answer the question, of course.’
‘Answer it? I don’t mind answering it. I’ve got nothing to hide. And I shall demand an apology. There are these…’ he stretched out his arms.
Japp noted the gold and platinum with a nod.
‘And I’ve got these.’
He rose, opened a drawer and taking out a case, he opened it and shoved it rudely almost under Japp’s nose.
‘Very nice design,’ said the chief inspector. ‘I see one is broken—bit of enamel chipped off.’
‘What of it?’
‘You don’t remember when that happened, I suppose?’
‘A day or two ago, not longer.’
‘Would you be surprised to hear that it happened when you were visiting Mrs Allen?’
‘Why shouldn’t it? I’ve not denied that I was there.’ The major spoke haughtily. He continued to bluster, to act the part of the justly indignant man, but his hands were trembling.
Japp leaned forward and said with emphasis:
‘Yes, but that bit of cuff link wasn’t found in the sitting-room. It was found upstairs in Mrs Allen’s boudoir—there in the room where she was killed, and where a man sat smoking the same kind of cigarettes as you smoke.’
The shot told. Eustace fell back into his chair. His eyes went from side to side. The collapse of the bully and the appearance of the craven was not a pretty sight.
‘You’ve got nothing on me.’ His voice was almost a whine. ‘You’re trying to frame me… But you can’t do it. I’ve got an alibi… I never came near the house again that night…’
Poirot in his turn, spoke.
‘No, you did not come near the house again… You did not need to… For perhaps Mrs Allen was already dead when you left it.’
‘That’s impossible—impossible—She was just inside the door—she spoke to me—People must have heard her—seen her…’
Poirot said softly:
‘They heard you speaking to her… and pretending to wait for her answer and then speaking again… It is an old trick that…People may have assumed she was there, but they did not see her, because they could not even say whether she was wearing evening dress or not—not even mention what colour she was wearing…’
‘My God—it isn’t true—it isn’t true—’
He was shaking now—collapsed…
Japp looked at him with disgust. He spoke crisply.
‘I’ll have to ask you, sir, to come with me.’
‘You’re arresting me?’
‘Detained for inquiry—we’ll put it that way.’
The silence was broken with a long, shuddering sigh. The despairing voice of the erstwhile blustering Major Eustace said:
‘I’m sunk…’
Hercule Poirot rubbed his hands together and smiled cheerfully. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
Chapter 9
‘Pretty the way he went all to pieces,’ said Japp with professional appreciation, later that day.
He and Poirot were driving in a car along the Brompton Road.
‘He knew the game was up,’ said Poirot absently.
‘We’ve got plenty on him,’ said Japp. ‘Two or three different aliases, a tricky business over a cheque, and a very nice affair when he stayed at the Ritz and called himself Colonel de Bathe. Swindled half a dozen Piccadilly tradesmen. We’re holding him on that charge for the moment—until we get this affair finally squared up. What’s the idea of this rush to the country, old man?’
‘My friend, an affair must be rounded off properly. Everything must be explained. I am on the quest of the mystery you suggested. The Mystery of the Missing Attaché-Case.’
‘The Mystery of the Small Attaché-Case—that’s what I called it—It isn’t missing that I know of.’
‘Wait, mon ami.’
The car turned into the mews. At the door of No. 14, Jane Plenderleith was just alighting from a small Austin Seven. She was in golfing clothes.
She looked from one to the other of the two men, then produced a key and opened the door.
‘Come in, won’t you?’
She led the way. Japp followed her into the sitting-room. Poirot remained for a minute or two in the hall, muttering something about: