Send me this Mr Lavington. Is he likely to bring the letter with him?’
The girl shook her head.
‘I do not think so. He is very cautious.’
‘I suppose there is no doubt that he really has it?’
‘He showed it to me when I went to his house.’
‘You went to his house? That was very imprudent, milady.’
‘Was it? I was so desperate. I hoped my entreaties might move him.’
‘Oh, Id Id! The Lavingtons of this world are not moved by entreatiesl He would welcome them as showing how much im-portance you attached to the document. Where docs he live, this frae gentleman?’
‘At Buona Vista, Wimbledon. I went there after dark – ‘ Poirot groaned. ‘I declared that I would inform the police in the end, but he only laughed in a horrid, sneering manner. “By all means, my dear Lady Millicent, do so if you wish,” he said.’
‘Yes, it is hardly an affair for the police,’ murmured Poirot.
‘ “But I think you will be wiser than that,” he continued. “See, here is your letter – in this little Chinese puzzle boxl” He held it o that I could see. I tried to snatch at it, but he was too quick for me. With a horrid smile he folded it up and replaced it in the little wooden box. “It will be quite safe here, I assure you,” he said, “and the box itself lives in such a clever place that you would never find it.” My eyes turned to the small wall-safe, and he shook his head and laughed. “I have a better safe than that,” he said. Oh, he was odiousl M. Poirot, do you think that you can help me?’
‘Have faith in Papa Poirot. I will find a way.’
These reassurances were all very well, I thought, as Poirot gallantly ushered his fair client down the stairs, but it seemed to me that we had a tough nut to crack. I said as much to Poirot when he returned. He nodded ruefully.
‘Yes – the solution does not leap to the eye. He has the whip hand, this M. Lavington. For the moment I do not see how we · re to circumvent him.’
Mr Lavingdon duly called upon us that afternoon. Lady Millicent had spoken truly when she described him as an odious man. I felt a positive tingling in the end of my boot, so keen was I to kick him down the stairs. He was blustering and overbearing in manner, laughed Poirot’s gentle suggestions to scorn, and generally showed himself as master of the situation. I could not help feeling that Poirot was hardly appearing at his best. He looked discouraged and crestfallen.
‘Well, gentlemen,’ said Lavington, as he took up his hat, ‘we don’t seem to be getting much further. The case stands like this: I’ll let the Lady Millicent off cheap, as she is such a charming young lady.’ He leered odiously. ‘We’ll say eighteen thousand.
I’m off to Paris today – a little Piece of business to attend to over there. I shall be back on Tuesday. Unless the money is paid by Tuesday evening, the letter goes to the Duke. Don’t tell me Lady Millicent can’t raise the money. Some of her gentlemen friends would be only too willing to oblige such a pretty woman with a loan – if she goes the right way about it.’
My face flushed, and I took a step forward, but Lavington had wheeled out of the room as he finished his sentence.
‘My GodI’ I cried. ‘Something has got to be done. You seem to be taking this lying down, Poirot.’
‘You have an excellent heart, my friend – but your grey cells are in a deplorable condition. I have no wish to impress Mr Lavington with my capabilities. The more pusillanimous he thinks me, the better.’
‘Why?’
‘It is curious,’ murmured Poirot reminiscently, ‘that I should have uttered a wish to work against the law just before Lady Millicent arrivedl’
‘You are going to burgle his house while he is away?’ I gasped.
‘Sometimes, Hastings, your mental processes are amazingly quick.’
‘Suppose he takes the letter with him?’