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Authors: Agatha Christie
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here?”
“I - I - came to get my handbag,” Lucia explained. “Hello, Dr Graham. Excuse me, please,” she added, hurrying past them.
As Richard watched her go, Poirot emerged from behind the curtains, approaching the two men as though he had just entered the room by the other door.
“Ah, here is Monsieur Poirot. Let me introduce you. Poirot, this is Dr Graham. Kenneth Graham.” Poirot and the doctor bowed to each other, and Dr Graham went immediately to the body of the dead scientist to examine it, watched by Richard. Hercule Poirot, to whom they paid no further attention, moved about the room, counting the coffee-cups again with a smile.
“One, two, three, four, five,” he murmured. “Five, indeed.”
A light of pure enjoyment lit up Poirot's face, and he smiled in his most inscrutable fashion. Taking the test-tube out of his pocket, he looked at it and slowly shook his head.
Meanwhile, Dr Graham had concluded a cursory examination of Sir Claud Amory's body.
“I'm afraid,” he said to Richard, “that I shan't be able to sign a death certificate. Sir Claud was in perfectly healthy condition, and it seems extremely unlikely to me that he could have suffered a sudden heart attack. I fear we shall have to find out what he had eaten or drunk in his last hours.”
“Good heavens, man, is that really necessary?” asked Richard, with a note of alarm in his voice. “He hadn't eaten or drunk anything that the rest of us didn't. It's absurd to suggest -”
“I'm not suggesting anything,” Dr Graham interrupted, speaking firmly and with authority. “I'm telling you that there will have to be an inquest, by law, and that the coroner will certainly want to know the cause of death. At present I simply do not know what caused Sir Claud's death. I'll have his body removed, and I'll arrange for an autopsy to be done first thing tomorrow morning as a matter of urgency. I should be able to get back to you later tomorrow with some hard facts.”
He left the room swiftly, followed by a still expostulating Richard. Poirot looked after them, and then assumed a puzzled expression as he turned to look again at the body of the man who had called him away from London with such urgency in his voice.
“What was it you wanted to tell me, my friend? I wonder. What did you fear?” he thought to himself. “Was it simply the theft of your formula, or did you fear for your life as well? You relied on Hercule Poirot for help. You called for help too late, but I shall try to discover the truth.”
Shaking his head thoughtfully, Poirot was about to leave the room when Tredwell entered.
“I've shown the other gentleman to his room, sir,” he told Poirot. “May I take you to yours, which is the adjoining one at the top of the stairs? I've also taken the liberty of providing a little cold supper for you both, after your journey. On the way upstairs I'll show you where the dining-room is.”
Poirot inclined his head in polite acceptance.
“Thank you very much, Tredwell,” he said. “Incidentally, I am going to advise Mr Amory most strongly that this room should be kept locked until tomorrow, when we should have further information about this evening's distressing occurrence. Would you be so kind as to make it secure after we leave it now?”
“Most certainly sir, if that is your wish,” replied Tredwell as Poirot preceded him out of the library.
Black Coffee
Chapter 8
When Hastings came down to breakfast late the following morning, after having slept long and well, he found himself eating alone. From Tredwell he learned that Edward Raynor had breakfasted much earlier, and had gone back to his room to put some of Sir Claud's papers in order, that Mr and Mrs Amory had had breakfast in their suite of rooms and had not yet appeared, and that Barbara Amory had taken a cup of coffee out into the garden, where she was presumably still sunning herself. Miss Caroline Amory had ordered breakfast in her room, pleading a slight
“I - I - came to get my handbag,” Lucia explained. “Hello, Dr Graham. Excuse me, please,” she added, hurrying past them.
As Richard watched her go, Poirot emerged from behind the curtains, approaching the two men as though he had just entered the room by the other door.
“Ah, here is Monsieur Poirot. Let me introduce you. Poirot, this is Dr Graham. Kenneth Graham.” Poirot and the doctor bowed to each other, and Dr Graham went immediately to the body of the dead scientist to examine it, watched by Richard. Hercule Poirot, to whom they paid no further attention, moved about the room, counting the coffee-cups again with a smile.
“One, two, three, four, five,” he murmured. “Five, indeed.”
A light of pure enjoyment lit up Poirot's face, and he smiled in his most inscrutable fashion. Taking the test-tube out of his pocket, he looked at it and slowly shook his head.
Meanwhile, Dr Graham had concluded a cursory examination of Sir Claud Amory's body.
“I'm afraid,” he said to Richard, “that I shan't be able to sign a death certificate. Sir Claud was in perfectly healthy condition, and it seems extremely unlikely to me that he could have suffered a sudden heart attack. I fear we shall have to find out what he had eaten or drunk in his last hours.”
“Good heavens, man, is that really necessary?” asked Richard, with a note of alarm in his voice. “He hadn't eaten or drunk anything that the rest of us didn't. It's absurd to suggest -”
“I'm not suggesting anything,” Dr Graham interrupted, speaking firmly and with authority. “I'm telling you that there will have to be an inquest, by law, and that the coroner will certainly want to know the cause of death. At present I simply do not know what caused Sir Claud's death. I'll have his body removed, and I'll arrange for an autopsy to be done first thing tomorrow morning as a matter of urgency. I should be able to get back to you later tomorrow with some hard facts.”
He left the room swiftly, followed by a still expostulating Richard. Poirot looked after them, and then assumed a puzzled expression as he turned to look again at the body of the man who had called him away from London with such urgency in his voice.
“What was it you wanted to tell me, my friend? I wonder. What did you fear?” he thought to himself. “Was it simply the theft of your formula, or did you fear for your life as well? You relied on Hercule Poirot for help. You called for help too late, but I shall try to discover the truth.”
Shaking his head thoughtfully, Poirot was about to leave the room when Tredwell entered.
“I've shown the other gentleman to his room, sir,” he told Poirot. “May I take you to yours, which is the adjoining one at the top of the stairs? I've also taken the liberty of providing a little cold supper for you both, after your journey. On the way upstairs I'll show you where the dining-room is.”
Poirot inclined his head in polite acceptance.
“Thank you very much, Tredwell,” he said. “Incidentally, I am going to advise Mr Amory most strongly that this room should be kept locked until tomorrow, when we should have further information about this evening's distressing occurrence. Would you be so kind as to make it secure after we leave it now?”
“Most certainly sir, if that is your wish,” replied Tredwell as Poirot preceded him out of the library.
Black Coffee
Chapter 8
When Hastings came down to breakfast late the following morning, after having slept long and well, he found himself eating alone. From Tredwell he learned that Edward Raynor had breakfasted much earlier, and had gone back to his room to put some of Sir Claud's papers in order, that Mr and Mrs Amory had had breakfast in their suite of rooms and had not yet appeared, and that Barbara Amory had taken a cup of coffee out into the garden, where she was presumably still sunning herself. Miss Caroline Amory had ordered breakfast in her room, pleading a slight
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