‘ “Shall I have to lose all the money?” I said, anxious like. He thought for a minute or two. “There are always ways of getting round the law, Miss Dunn,” he said at last. “We as lawyers know that. The way out here is for you to have left your employment this afternoon.” “But my month?” I said. “My dear Miss Dunn,” he said with a smile. “You can leave an employer any minute by forfeiting a month’s wages. Your mistress will understand in view of the circumstances. The difficulty is time! It is imperative that you should catch the 11.05 from King’s Cross to the north. I can advance you ten pounds or so for the fare, and you can write a note at the station to your employer. I will take it to her myself and explain the whole circumstances.” I agreed, of course, and an hour later I was in the train, so flustered that I didn’t know whether I was on my head or heels. Indeed by the time I got to Carlisle, I was half inclined to think the whole thing was one of those confidence tricks you read about. But I went to the address he had given me—solicitors they were, and it was all right. A nice little house, and an income of three hundred a year. These lawyers knew very little, they’d just got a letter from a gentleman in London instructing them to hand over the house to me and £150 for the first six months. Mr Crotchet sent up my things to me, but there was no word from Missus. I supposed she was angry and grudged me my bit of luck. She kept back my box too, and sent my clothes in paper parcels. But there, of course if she never had my letter, she might think it a bit cool of me.’
Poirot had listened attentively to this long history. Now he nodded his head as though completely satisfied.
‘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 perhaps 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 address to the driver.
‘Eighty-eight Prince Albert Road, Clapham.’
‘So we are going there?’
‘Mais 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: ‘A battered tin trunk…’
I looked sideways at him. His statement seemed so fantastic 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 are simple matters to obtain, and he is willing to pay £150 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 Wednesday—except for the trifling fact that Simpson has helped himself to fifty thousand pounds’ worth of negotiable securities.’