Poirot’s Early Cases by Agatha Christie

‘I will trust you,’ said the girl suddenly. ‘You have heard of Lady Millicent Castle Vaughan?’

I looked up with keen interest. The announcement of Lady Millicent’s engagement to the young Duke of Southshire had appeared a few days previously. She was, I knew, the fifth daughter of an impecunious Irish peer, and the Duke of Southshire was one of the best matches in England.

‘I am Lady Millicent,’ continued the girl. ‘You may have read of my engagement. I should be one of the happiest girls alive; but oh, M. Poirot, I am in terrible trouble! There is a man, a horrible man—his name is Lavington; and he—I hardly know how to tell you. There was a letter I wrote—I was only sixteen at the time; and he—he—’

‘A letter that you wrote to this Mr Lavington?’

‘Oh no—not to him! To a young soldier—I was very fond of him—he was killed in the war.’

I understand,’ said Poirot kindly.

‘It was a foolish letter, an indiscreet letter, but indeed, M. Poirot, nothing more. But there are phrases in it which—which might bear a different interpretation.’

‘I see,’ said Poirot. ‘And this letter has come into the possession of Mr Lavington?’

‘Yes, and he threatens, unless I pay him an enormous sum of money, a sum that is quite impossible for me to raise, to send it to the Duke.’

‘The dirty swine!’ I ejaculated. ‘I beg your pardon, Lady Millicent.’

‘Would it not be wiser to confess all to your future husband?’

‘I dare not, M. Poirot. The Duke is a rather peculiar character, jealous and suspicious and prone to believe the worst. I might as well break off my engagement at once.’

‘Dear, dear,’ said Poirot with an expressive grimace. ‘And what do you want me to do, milady?’

‘I thought perhaps that I might ask Mr Lavington to call upon you. I would tell him that you were empowered by me to discuss the matter. Perhaps you could reduce his demands.’

‘What sum does he mention?’

‘Twenty thousand pounds—an impossibility. I doubt if I could raise a thousand, even.’

‘You might perhaps borrow the money on the prospect of your approaching marriage—but I doubt if you could get hold of half that sum. Besides—eh bien, it is repungnant to me that you should pay! No, the ingenuity of Hercule Poirot shall defeat your enemies! 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, làlà! The Lavingtons of this world are not moved by entreaties! He would welcome them as showing how much importance you attached to the document. Where does he live, this fine 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 box!” He held it so 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 odious! 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.