‘You don’t say so. Now I could have sworn you were a chap called Spencer Jones. Dear old Spencer Jones. Met him at the Eton and Harrow and borrowed a fiver from him. What I say is one face is very like another face—that’s what I say. If we were a lot of Chinks we wouldn’t know each other apart.’
He shook his head sadly, then cheered up suddenly and drank off some more champagne.
‘Anyway,’ he said. ‘I’m not a damned nigger.’
This reflection seemed to cause him such elation that he presently made several remarks of a hopeful character.
‘Look on the bright side, my boy,’ he adjured me. ‘What I say is, look on the bright side. One of these days—when I’m seventy-five or so, I’m going to be a rich man. When my uncle dies. Then I can pay my tailor.’
He sat smiling happily at the thought.
There was something strangely likeable about the young man. He had a round face and an absurdly small black moustache that gave one the impression of being marooned in the middle of a desert.
Carlotta Adams, I noticed, had an eye on him, and it was after a glance in his direction that she rose and broke up the party.
‘It was just sweet of you to come up here,’ said Jane. ‘I do so love doing things on the spur of the moment, don’t you?’
‘No,’ said Miss Adams. ‘I’m afraid I always plan a thing out very carefully before I do it. It saves—worry.’
There was something faintly disagreeable in her manner.
‘Well, at any rate the results justify you,’ laughed Jane. ‘I don’t know when I enjoyed anything so much as I did your show tonight.’
The American girl’s face relaxed.
‘Well, that’s very sweet of you,’ she said warmly. ‘And I guess I appreciate your telling me so. I need encouragement. We all do.’
‘Carlotta,’ said the young man with the black moustache. ‘Shake hands and say thank you for the party to Aunt Jane and come along.’
The way he walked straight through the door was a miracle of concentration. Carlotta followed him quickly.
‘Well,’ said Jane, ‘what was that that blew in and called me Aunt Jane? I hadn’t noticed him before.’
‘My dear,’ said Mrs Widburn. ‘You mustn’t take any notice of him. Most brilliant as a boy in the O.U.D.S. You’d hardly think so now, would you? I hate to see early promise come to nothing. But Charles and I positively must toddle.’
The Widburns duly toddled and Bryan Martin went with them.
‘Well, M. Poirot?’
He smiled at her.
‘Eh bien, Lady Edgware?’
‘For goodness’ sake, don’t call me that. Let me forget it! If you aren’t the hardest-hearted little man in Europe!’
‘But no, but no, I am not hard-hearted.’
Poirot, I thought, had had quite enough champagne, possibly a glass too much.
‘Then you’ll go and see my husband? And make him do what I want?’
‘I will go and see him,’ Poirot promised cautiously.
‘And if he turns you down—as he will—you’ll think of a clever plan. They say you’re the cleverest man in England, M. Poirot.’
‘Madame, when I am hard-hearted, it is Europe you mention. But for cleverness you say only England.’
‘If you put this through I’ll say the universe.’
Poirot raised a deprecating hand.
‘Madame, I promise nothing. In the interests of the psychology I will endeavour to arrange a meeting with your husband.’
‘Psycho-analyse him as much as you like. Maybe it would do him good. But you’ve got to pull it off—for my sake. I’ve got to have my romance, M. Poirot.’
She added dreamily: ‘Just think of the sensation it will make.’
Chapter 3
The Man with the Gold Tooth
It was a few days later, when we were sitting at breakfast, that Poirot flung across to me a letter that he had just opened.
‘Well, mon ami,’ he said. ‘What do you think of that?’
The note was from Lord Edgware and in stiff formal language it made an appointment for the following day at eleven.
I must say that I was very much surprised. I had taken Poirot’s words uttered lightly in a convivial moment, and I had had no idea that he had actually taken steps to carry out his promise.