‘Thank you, mademoiselle. There had been, as you say, a little
muddle. Permit me to recompense you for your trouble.’ He handed her an envelope. ‘You return to Cumberland immediately? A little word in your ear. Do not forget how to cook. It is always useful to have something to fall back upon in case things go wrong.’ ‘Credulous,’ he murmured, as our visitor departed, ‘but perhal not more than most of her class.’ His face grew grave. ‘Come, Hastings, there is no time to be lost. Get a taxi while I write a note to Japp.’ Poirot was waiting on the doorstep when I returned with the taxi.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked anxiously.
‘First, to despatch this note by special messenger.’ This was done, and re-entering the taxi Poirot gave the addre to the driver.
‘Eighty-eight Prince Albert Road, Clapham.’ ‘So we are going there?’ ‘Mai, oui. Though frankly I fear we shall be too late. Our bird will have flown, Hastings.’ ‘Who is our bird?’ Poirot smiled.
‘The inconspicuous Mr Simpson.’ ‘What?’ I exclaimed.
‘Oh, come now, Hastings, do not tell me that all is not clear to you now?
‘The cook was got out of the way, I realize that,’ I said, slightly piqued. ‘But why? Why should Simpson wish to get her out of the house? Did she know something about him?’ ‘Nothing whatever.’ ‘Well, then ‘ ‘But he wanted something that she had.’ ‘Money? The Australian legacy?’ ‘No, my friend – something quite different.’ He paused a moment and then said gravely: ‘q battered tin trunk…’ I looked sideways at him. His statement seemed so fantaatic that I suspected him of pulling my leg, but he was perfectly grave and serious.
‘Surely he could buy a trunk if he wanted one,’ I cried.
‘He did not want a new trunk. He wanted a trunk of pedigree.
A trunk of assured respectability.’
‘Look here, Poirot,’ I cried, ‘this really is a bit thick. You’re pulling my leg.’
He looked at me.
‘You lack the brains and the imagination of Mr Simpson, Hastings. See here: On Wednesday evening, Simpson decoys away the cook. A printed card and a printed sheet of notepaper re simple matters to obtain, and he is willing to pay I5O and a year’s house rent to assure the success of his plan. Miss Dunn does not recognize him – the beard and the hat and the slight colonial accent completely deceive her. That is the end of Wed-nesday – except for the trifling fact that Simpson has helped himself to fifty thousand pounds’ worth of negotiable securities.’ ‘Simpson – but it was Davis – ‘
‘If you will kindly permit me to continue, Hastingsl Simpson knows that the theft will be discovered on Thursday afternoon.
He does not go to the bank on Thursday, but he lies in wait for Davis when he comes out to lunch. Perhaps he admits the theft md tells Davis he will return the securities to him – anyhow he succeeds in getting Davis to come to Clapham with him. It is the maid’s day out, and Mrs Todd was at the sales, so there is no one in the house. When the theft is discovered and Davis is missing, the implication will be overwhelming. Davis is the thiefl Mr Simpson will be perfectly safe, and can return to work on the morrow like the honest clerk they think him.’
‘And Davis?’
Poirot made an expressive gesture, and slowly shook his head.
‘It seems too cold-blooded to be believed, and yet what other explanation can there be, rnon ami. The one difficulty for a murderer is the disposal of the body – and Simpson had planned that out beforehand. I was struck at once by the fact that although Eliza Durra obviously meant to return that’ night when she went out (witness her remark about the stewed peaches)yet her trunk oas all ready packed when they came for it. It was Simpson who sent word to Carter Paterson to call on Friday and it was Simpson who corded up the box on Thursday afternoon. What suspicion
could possibly arise? A maid leaves and sends for her box, it is labelled and addressed ready in her name, probably to a railway station within easy reach of London. On Saturday afternoon, Simpson, in his Australian disguise, claims it, he affixes a new label and address and redespatches it somewhere else, again “to be left till called for”. When the authorities get suspicious, for excellent reasons, and open it, all that can be elicited will be that a bearded colonial despatched it from some junction near London.