Agatha Christie – Poirot’s Early Cases

I arrive.’

‘And I’m delighted,’ said Harrison heartily. ‘Sit down and have a drink.’

With a hospitable hand, he indicated a table on the veranda bearing assorted bottles.

‘I thank you,’ said Poirot, sinking down into a basket chair.

‘You have, I suppose, no drop? No, no, I thought not. A little plain soda water then – no whisky.’ And he added in a feeling voice as the other placed the glass beside him: ‘Alas, my moustache are limp. It is this heatl’

‘And what brings you into this quiet spot?’ asked Harrison as he dropped into another chair. ‘Pleasure?’

‘No, mon ami, business.’

‘Business? In this out-of-the-way place?’

Poirot nodded gravely. ‘But yes, my friend, all crimes are not committed in crowds, you know?’

The other laughed. ‘I suppose that was rather an idiotic remark of mine. But what particular crime are you investigating down here, or is that a thing I mustn’t ask?’

‘You may ask,’ said the detective. ‘Indeed, I would prefer that you asked.’

Harrison looked at him curiously. He sensed something a little unusual in the other’s manner. ‘You are investigating a crime, you say?’ he advanced rather hesitatingly. ‘A serious crime?’

‘A crime of the most serious there is.’ ‘You mean…’ ‘Murder.’

So gravely did Hercule Poirot say that word that Harrison was quite taken aback. The detective was looking straight at him and again there was something so unusual in his glance that Harrison hardly knew how to proceed. At last, he said: ‘But I have heard of no murder.’

‘No,’ said Poirot, ‘you would not have heard of it.’

‘Who has been murdered?’

‘As yet,’ said Hercule Poirot, ‘nobody.’

‘What?’

‘That is why I said you would not have heard of it. I am investigating a crime that has not yet taken place.’

‘But look here, that is nonsense.’

‘Not at all. If one can investigate a murder before it has hap-pened, surely that is very much better than afterwards. One might even – a little idea – prevent it.’

Harrison stared at him. ‘You are not serious, Monsieur Poirot.’ ‘But yes, I am serious.’

‘You really believe that a murder is going to be committed? oh, it’s absurd!’

Hercule Poirot finished the first part of the sentence without taking any notice of the exclamation.

‘Unless we can manage to prevent it. Yes, mon ami, that is what I mean.’ ‘We?’ ‘I said we. I shall need your cooperation.’ ‘Is that why you came down here?’ Again Poirot looked at him, and again an indefinable something made Harrison uneasy.

‘I came here, Monsieur ttarrison because I – well – like you.’ And then he added in an entirely different voice: ‘I see, Monsieur Harrison, that you have a wasps’ nest there. You should destroy it.’ The change of subject made Harrison frown in a puzzled way.

He followed Poirot’s glance and said in rather a bewildered voice: ‘As a matter of fact, I’m going to. Or rather, young Langton is.

You remember Claude Langton? He was at that same dinner where I met you. He’s coming over this evening to take the nest.

Rather fancies himself at the job.’ ‘Ah!’ said Poirot. ‘And how is he going to do it?’ ‘Petrol and the garden syringe. He’s bringing his own syringe over; it’s a more convenient size than mine.’ ‘There is another way, is there not?’ asked Poirot. ‘With cyanide of potassium?’ Harrison looked a little surprised. ‘Yes, but that’s rather dangerous stuff. Always a risk having it about the place.’ Poirot nodded gravely. ‘Yes, it is deadly poison.’ He waited a minute and then repeated in a grave voice. ‘Deadly poison.’ ‘Useful if you want to do away with your mother-in-law, eh?’ aid Harrison with a laugh.

But Hercule Poirot remained grave. ‘And you are quite sure, Monsieur Harrison, that it is with petrol that Monsieur Langton ia going to destroy your wasps’ nest?’ ‘Quite sure. Why?’ ‘I wondered. I was at the chemist’s in Barchester this afternoon.

For one of my purchases I had to sign the poison book. I saw the last entry. It was for cyanide of potassium and it was signed for by Claude Langton.’

Harrison stared. ‘That’s odd,’ he said. ‘Langton told me the other day that he’d never dream of using the stuff; in fact, he said it oughtn’t to be sold for the purpose.’