‘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 this 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 seem 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.
But our patience was rewarded at last. On the Wednesday following Mrs Todd’s visit, our landlady informed us that a person of the name of Eliza Dunn had called.
‘Enfin!’ cried Poirot. ‘But make her mount then! At once. Immediately.’
Thus admonished, our landlady hurried out and returned a moment or two later, ushering in Miss Dunn. Our quarry was much as described: tall, stout, and eminently respectable.
‘I came in answer to the advertisement,’ she explained. ‘I thought there must be some muddle or other, and that perhaps you didn’t know I’d already got my legacy.’
Poirot was studying her attentively. He drew forward a chair with a flourish.
‘The truth of the matter is,’ he explained, ‘that your late mistress, Mrs Todd, was much concerned about you. She feared some accident might have befallen you.’
Eliza Dunn seemed very much surprised.
‘Didn’t she get my letter then?’
‘She got no word of any kind.’ He paused, and then said persuasively: ‘Recount to me the whole story, will you not?’
Eliza Dunn needed no encouragement. She plunged at once into a lengthy narrative.
‘I was just coming home on Wednesday night and had nearly got to the house, when a gentleman stopped me. A tall gentleman he was, with a beard and a big hat. “Miss Eliza Dunn?” he said. “Yes,” I said. “I’ve been inquiring for you at No. 88,” he said. “They told me I might meet you coming along here. Miss Dunn, I have come from Australia specially to find you. Do you happen to know the maiden name of your maternal grandmother?” “Jane Emmott,” I said. “Exactly,” he said. “Now, Miss Dunn, although you may never have heard of the fact, your grandmother had a great friend, Eliza Leech. This friend went to Australia where she married a very wealthy settler. Her two children died in infancy, and she inherited all her husband’s property. She died a few months ago, and by her will you inherit a house in this country and a considerable sum of money.”
‘You could have knocked me down with a feather,’ continued Miss Dunn. ‘For a minute, I was suspicious, and he must have seen it, for he smiled. “Quite right to be on your guard, Miss Dunn,” he said. “Here are my credentials.” He handed me a letter from some lawyers in Melbourne, Hurst and Crotchet, and a card. He was Mr Crotchet. “There are one or two conditions,” he said. “Our client was a little eccentric, you know. The bequest is conditional on your taking possession of the house (it is in Cumberland) before twelve o’clock tomorrow. The other condition is of no importance—it is merely a stipulation that you should not be in domestic service.” My face fell. “Oh, Mr Crotchet,” I said. “I’m a cook. Didn’t they tell you at the house?” “Dear, dear,” he said. “I had no idea of such a thing. I thought you might possibly be a companion or governess there. This is very unfortunate—very unfortunate indeed.”