‘It’s a curious coincidence,’ I said, ‘but that absconding clerk, Davis, was from the same bank as Simpson. Can there be any connection, do you think?’ Poirot smiled.
‘At the one end, a defaulting clerk, at the other a vanishing cook. It is hard to see any relation between the two, unless possibly Davis visited Simpson, fell in love with the cook, and persuaded her to accompany him on his flightl’ I laughed. But Poirot remained grave.
‘He might have done worse,’ he said reprovingly. ‘Remember, Hastings, if you are going into exile, a good cook may be of more comfort than a pretty face!’ He paused for a moment and then went on. ‘It is a curious case, full of contradictory features. I am interested – yes, I am distinctly interested.’
That evening we returned to 88 Prince Albert Road and inter-viewed both Todd and Simpson. The former was a melancholy lantern-jawed man of forty-odd.
‘Obi Yes, yes,’ he said vaguely. ‘Eliza. Yes. A good cook, I believe. And economical. I make a strong point of economy.’
‘Can you imagine any reason for her leaving you so suddenly?’ ‘Oh, well,’ said Mr Todd vaguely. ‘Servants, you know. My wife worries too much. Worn out from always worrying. The whole problem’s quite simple really. “Get another, my dear,” I say.
“Get another.” That’s all there is to it. No good crying over spilt milk.’
Mr Simpson was equally unhelpful. He was a quiet incon-spicuous young man with spectacles.
‘I must have seen her, I suppose,’ he said. ‘Elderly woman, wasn’t she? Of course, it’s the other one I see always, Annie.
Nice girl. Very obliging.’
‘Were those two on good terms with each other?’
Mr Simpson said he couldn’t say, he was sure. He supposed so.
‘Well, we get nothing of interest there, rnon ami,’ said Poirot as we left the house. Our departure had been delayed by a burst of vociferous repetition from Mrs Todd, who repeated everything she had said that morning at rather greater length.
‘Are you disappointed?’ I asked. ‘Did you expect to hear some-thing?’
Poirot shook his head.
‘There was a possibility, of course,’ he said. ‘But I hardly thought it likely.’
The next development was a letter which Poirot received on the following morning. He read it, turned purple with indignation, and handed it to me.
Mrs Todd regrets that after all she will not avail herself of Mr Poirot’s services. After talking the matter over with her husband she sees that it is foolish to call in a detective about a purely domestic affair. Mrs Todd encloses a guinea for con-sultation fee.
‘Ahal’ cried Poirot angrily. ‘And they think to get rid of Hercule loirot like thatl As a favour – a great favour – I consent to investigate their miserable little twopenny-halfpenny affair – and they dismiss me comme fal Here, I mistake not, is the hand of Mr Todd. But I say nol – thirty-six times nol I will spend my own guineas, thirty-six hundred of them if need be, but I will get to the bottom of this matter?
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But how?’ Poirot calmed down a little.
‘D’abord,’ he said, ‘we will advertise in the papers. Let me see yes – something like this: “If Eliza Dunn will communicate with thia address, she will hear of something to her advantage.” Put it in all the papers you can think of, Hastings. Then I will make some little inquiries of my own. Go, go – all must be done as quickly as possible!’ I did not see him again until the evening, when he condescended to tell me what he had been doing.
‘I have made inquiries at the firm of Mr Todd. He was not absent on ,Wednesday, and he bears a good character – so much for him. Then Simpson, on Thursday he was ill and did not come to the bank, but he was there on Wednesday. He was moderately friendly with Davis. Nothing out of the common. There does not eem to be anything there. No. We must place our reliance on the advertisement.’ The advertisement duly appeared in all the principal daily papers. By Poirot’s orders it was to be continued every day for a week. His eagerness over this uninteresting matter of a defaulting cook was extraordinary, but I realized that he considered it a point of honour to persevere until he finally succeeded. Several extremely interesting cases were brought to him about this time, but he declined them all. Every morning he would rush at his letters, scrutinize them earnestly and then lay them down with a sigh.
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