iv
gladys nevill was a tall, fair, somewhat anemic girl of about twenty-eight. though obviously very
upset, she at once showed that she was capable and intelligent.
under the pretext of looking through mr. morley’s papers, japp got her away from miss morley
down to the little office next door to the surgery.
she repeated more than once:
“i simply cannot believe it! it seems quite incredible that mr. morley should do such a thing!”
she was emphatic that he had not seemed troubled or worried in any way.
then japp began:
“you were called away today, miss nevill—”
she interrupted him.
“yes, and the whole thing was a wicked practical joke! i do think it’s awful of people to do
things like that. i really do.”
“what do you mean, miss nevill?”
“why, there wasn’t anything the matter with aunt at all. she’d never been better. she couldn’t
understand it when i suddenly turned up. of course i was ever so glad—but it did make me mad.
sending a telegram like that and upsetting me and everything.”
“have you got that telegram, miss nevill?”
“i threw it away, i think, at the station. it just said, your aunt had a stroke last night. please
come at once.”
“you are quite sure—well—” japp coughed delicately—“that it wasn’t your friend, mr. carter,
who sent that telegram?”
“frank? whatever for? oh! i see, you mean—a put-up job between us? no, indeed, inspector—
neither of us would do such a thing.”
her indignation seemed genuine enough and japp had a little trouble in soothing her down. but
a question as to the patients on this particular morning restored her to her competent self.
“they are all here in the book. i daresay you have seen it already. i know about most of them.
ten o’clock, mrs. soames—that was about her new plate. ten thirty, lady grant—she’s an
elderly lady—lives in lowndes square. eleven o’clock, m. hercule poirot, he comes regularly—
oh, of course this is him—sorry, m. poirot, but i really am so upset! eleven thirty, mr. alistair
blunt—that’s the banker, you know—a short appointment, because mr. morley had prepared the
filling last time. then miss sainsbury seale—she rang up specially—had toothache and so mr.
morley fitted her in. a terrible talker, she is, never stops—the fussy kind, too. then twelve
o’clock, mr. amberiotis—he was a new patient—made an appointment from the savoy hotel. mr.
morley gets quite a lot of foreigners and americans. then twelve thirty, miss kirby. she comes
up from worthing.”
poirot asked:
“there was here when i arrived a tall military gentleman. who would he be?”
“one of mr. reilly’s patients, i expect. i’ll just get his list for you, shall i?”
“thank you, miss nevill.”
she was absent only a few minutes. she returned with a similar book to that of mr. morley.
she read out:
“ten o’clock, betty heath (that’s a little girl of nine). eleven o’clock, colonel abercrombie.”
“abercrombie!” murmured poirot. “c’etait ça!”
“eleven thirty, mr. howard raikes. twelve o’clock, mr. barnes. that was all the patients this
morning. mr. reilly isn’t so booked up as mr. morley, of course.”
“can you tell us anything about any of these patients of mr. reilly’s?”
“colonel abercrombie has been a patient for a long time, and all mrs. heath’s children come to
mr. reilly. i can’t tell you anything about mr. raikes or mr. barnes, though i fancy i have heard
their names. i take all the telephone calls, you see—”
japp said:
“we can ask mr. reilly ourselves. i should like to see him as soon as possible.”
miss nevill went out. japp said to poirot:
“all old patients of mr. morley’s except amberiotis. i’m going to have an interesting talk with
mr. amberiotis presently. he’s the last person, as it stands, to see morley alive, and we’ve got to
make quite sure that when he last saw him, morley was alive.”
poirot said slowly, shaking his head:
“you have still to prove motive.”
“i know. that’s what is going to be the teaser. but we may have something about amberiotis at
the yard.” he added sharply: “you’re very thoughtful, poirot!”
“i was wondering about something.”
“what was it?”
poirot said with a faint smile:
“why chief inspector japp?”
“eh?”
“i said, ‘why chief inspector japp?’ an officer of your eminence—is he usually called in to a
case of suicide?”
“as a matter of fact, i happened to be nearby at the time. at lavenham’s—in wigmore street.
rather an ingenious system of frauds they’ve had there. they telephoned me there to come on
here.”
“but why did they telephone you?”
“oh, that—that’s simple enough. alistair blunt. as soon as the divisional inspector heard he’d
been here this morning, he got on to the yard. mr. blunt is the kind of person we take care of in
this country.”
“you mean that there are people who would like him—out of the way?”
“you bet there are. the reds, to begin with—and our black-shirted friends, too. it’s blunt and
his group who are standing solid behind the present government. good sound conservative
finance. that’s why, if there were the least chance that there was any funny stuff intended against
him this morning, they wanted a thorough investigation.”
poirot nodded.
“that is what i more or less guessed. and that is the feeling i have”—he waved his hands
expressively—“that there was, perhaps—a hitch of some kind. the proper victim was—should
have been—alistair blunt. or is this only a beginning—the beginning of a campaign of some
kind? i smell—i smell—” he sniffed the air, “—big money in this business!”
japp said:
“you’re assuming a lot, you know.”
“i am suggesting that ce pauvre morley was only a pawn in the game. perhaps he knew
something—perhaps he told blunt something—or they feared he would tell blunt something—”
he stopped as gladys nevill entered the room.
“mr. reilly is busy on an extraction case,” she said. “he will be free in about ten minutes if that
will be all right?”
japp said that it would. in the meantime, he said, he would have another talk to the boy alfred.
