‘Morning, Poirot. Only just got back. I’ve done some good workl And you?’ The, I have arranged my ideas,’ replied Poirot placidly.
Japp laughed heartily.
‘Old chap’s getting on in years,’ he observed beneath his breath to me. ‘That won’t do for us young folk,’ he said aloud.
‘Quel dommage?’ Poirot inquired.
‘Well, do you want to hear what I’ve done?’ ‘You permit me to make a guess? You have found the knife with which the crime was committed, by the side of the line between Weston and Taunton, and you have interviewed the paperboy who spoke to Mrs Carrington at Weston!’ Japp’s jaw fell. ‘How on earth did you know? Don’t tell me it was those almighty “little grey cells” of yoursI’ ‘I am glad you admit for once that they are all mightyl Tell me, did she give the paper-boy a shilling for himself?’ ‘No, it was half a crownl’ Japp had recovered his temper, and grinned. ‘Pretty extravagant, these rich Americans!’
‘And in consequence the boy did not forget her?’
‘Not he. Half-crowns dgn’t come his way every day. She haile him and bought two magazines. One had a picture of a girl it blue on the cover. “That’ll match me,” she said. Oh, he remem. bered her perfectly. Well, that was enough for me. By the doctor’ evidence, the crime must have been committed before Taunton I guessed they’d throw the knife away at once, and I walked dom the line looking for it; and sure enough, there it was. I mad inquiries at Taunton about our man, but of course it’s a bi! station, and it wasn’t likely they’d notice him. He probably got back to London by a later train.’
Poirot nodded. ‘Very likely.’
‘But I found another bit of news when I got back. They’re passing the jewels, all righfi That large emerald was pawned last night – by one of the regular lot. Who do you think it was?’ ‘I don’t know – except that he was a short man.’ lapp stared. ‘Well, you’re right there. He’s short enough. It was Red Narky.’
‘Who is Red Narky?’ I asked.
‘A particularly sharp jewel-thief, sir. And not one to stick at murder. Usually works with a woman – Gracie Kidd; but she doesn’t seem to be in it this time – unless she’s got off to Holland with the rest of the swag.’
‘You’ve arrested Narky?’
‘Sure thing. But mind you, it’s the other man we want – the man who went down with Mrs Carrington in the train. He was the one who planned the job, right enough. But Narky won’t squeal on a pal.’
I noticed that Poirot’s eyes had become very green.
‘I think,’ he said gently, ‘that I can find Narky’s pal for you, all right.’
‘One of your little ideas, eh?’ lapp eyed Poirot sharply. ‘Wonder-ul how you manage to deliver the goods sometimes, at your ae and all. Devil’s own luck, of course.’
‘Perhaps, perhaps,’ murmured my friend. ‘Hastings, my hat.
And the brush. Sol My galoshes, if it still rainsl We must not undo the good work of that tisane./lu rm/r, Jappl’
‘Good luck to you, Poirot.’
Poirot hailed the first taxi we met, and directed the driver to Park Lane.
When we drew up before Halliday’s house, he skipped out nimbly, paid the driver and rang the bell. To the footman who opened the door he made a request in a low voice, and we were immediately taken upstairs. We went up to the top of the house, and were shown into a small neat bedroom.
Poirot’s eyes roved round the room and fastened themselves on a small black trunk. He knelt in front of it, scrutinized the labels on it, and took a small twist of wire from his pocket.
‘Ask Mr Halliday if he will be so kind as to mount to me here,’ he said over his shoulder to the footman.
The man departed, and Poirot gently coaxed the lock of the trunk with a practised hand. In a few minutes the lock gave, and he raised the lid of the trunk. Swiftly he began rummaging among the clothes it contained, flinging them out on the floor.