Read Online Black Coffee by Agatha Christie - Free Book Online Page B

headache, and Tredwell had not seen her subsequently.
    “Have you caught sight of Monsieur Poirot at all this morning, Tredwell?” Hastings asked, and was told that his friend had risen early and had decided to take a walk to the village.
    “I understood Monsieur Poirot to say that he had some business to conduct there,” Tredwell added.
    After finishing a lavish breakfast of bacon, sausage and eggs, toast and coffee, Hastings returned to his comfortable room on the first floor, which offered a splendid view of part of the garden and, for a few minutes which Hastings found rewarding, of the sun-bathing Barbara Amory as well. It was not until Barbara had come indoors that Hastings settled down in an arm-chair with that morning's Times, which had of course gone to press too early to contain any mention of Sir Claud Amory's death the previous evening.
    Hastings turned to the editorial page and began to read. A good half-hour later, he awakened from a light slumber to find Hercule Poirot standing over him.
    “Ah, mon cher, you are hard at work on the case, I see,” Poirot chuckled.
    “As a matter of fact, Poirot, I was thinking about last night's events for quite some time,” Hastings asserted. “I must have dozed off.”
    “And why not, my friend?” Poirot assured him. “Me, I have been thinking about the death of Sir Claud as well, and, of course, the theft of his so important formula. I have, in fact, already taken some action, and I am expecting at any minute a telephone message to tell me if a certain suspicion of mine is correct or not.”
    “What or whom do you suspect, Poirot?” Hastings asked eagerly.
    Poirot looked out of the window before replying. “No, I do not think I can reveal that to you at this stage of the game, my friend,” he replied mischievously. “Let us just say that, as the magicians on the stage like to assure us, the quickness of the hand deceives the eye.”
    “Really, Poirot,” Hastings exclaimed, “you can be extremely irritating at times. I do think you ought to at least let me know whom you suspect of having stolen the formula. After all, I might be able to help you by -”
    Poirot stopped his colleague with an airy gesture of his hand. The little detective was now wearing his most innocent expression and gazing out of the window, meditatively, into the far distance.
    “You are puzzled, Hastings?” he asked. “You are wondering to yourself why I do not launch myself in pursuit of a suspect?”
    “Well - something of the kind,” Hastings admitted.
    “It is no doubt what you would do, if you were in my place,” observed Poirot complacently. “I understand that. But I am not of those who enjoy rushing about, seeking a needle in a hay-stack, as you English say. For the moment, I am content to wait. As to why I wait - eh bien, to the intelligence of Hercule Poirot things are sometimes perfectly clear which are not at all clear to those who are not so greatly gifted.”
    “Good Lord, Poirot!” Hastings exclaimed. “Do you know, I'd give a considerable sum of money to see you make a thorough ass of yourself - just for once. You're so confoundedly conceited!”
    “Do not enrage yourself, my dear Hastings,” Poirot replied soothingly. “In verity, I observe that there are times when you seem almost to detest me! Alas, I suffer the penalties of greatness!”
    The little man puffed out his chest and sighed so comically that Hastings was forced to laugh. “Poirot, you really have the best opinion of yourself of anyone I've ever known,” he declared.
    “What will you? When one is unique, one knows it. But now to serious matters, my dear Hastings. Let me tell you that I have asked Sir Claud's son, Mr Richard Amory, to meet us in the library at noon. I say 'us,' Hastings, for I need you to be there, my friend, to observe closely.”
    “As always, I shall be delighted to assist you, Poirot,” his friend assured him.
    At noon Poirot, Hastings and Richard Amory met in the