Hercule Poirot's Casebook

rose in her cheeks, she brought down her hand sharply on the

arm of her chair.

'So that was it! What a fool I was not to have guessed. Of

course I'

'You think the suggestion feasible, mademoiselle?' asked

Poirot.

'I was a fool not to have thought of it! Barbara's borrowed

small sums off me several times during the last six months. And

i've seen her sitting poring over her passbook. I knew she was

living well within her income, so I didn't bother, but, of course,

if she was paying out sums of money-'

'And it would accord with her general demeanour - yes?'

sked Poirot.'

'Absolutely. She was nervous. Quite jumpy sometimes.

tltogether different from what she used to be.'

Poirot said gently:

'Excuse me, but that is not just what you told us before.'

'That was different,' Jane Plenderleith waved an impatient

hand. 'She wasn't depressed. I mean she wasn't feeling suiddal

or anything like that. But blackmail - yes. I wish she'd told me.

I'd have sent him to the devil.'

'But he might have gone - not to the devil, but to Mr Charles

Laverton-West?' observed Poirot.

il,5'Yes,' said lane Plenderleith slowly. 'Yes... that's true...'

'You've no idea of what this man's hold over her may have

?' asked Japp.

e girl shook her head. ,

'I haven't the faintest idea. I can t believe, knowing Barbara,

hat it could have been anything really serious. On the other

hand -' she paused, then went on. 'What I mean is, Barbara

as a bit of a simpleton in some ways. She'd be very ea.ily

ghtened. In fact, she was the kind of girl who would be a

positive gift to a blackmailer! The nasty brute?

87

She snapped out the last three words with real venom.

'Unfortunately,' said Poirot, 'the crime seems to have takec

place the wrong way round. It is the victim who should kill

blackmailer, not the blackmailer his victim.'

Jane Plenderleith frowned a little.

'No - that is true - but I can imagine circumstances-'

'Such as?'

'Supposing Barbara got desperate. She may have threatenecl

him with that silly little pistol of hers. He tries to wrench away from her and in the struggle he fires it and kills her. Then

he's horrified at what he's done and tries to pretend it was

suicide.'

'Might be,' said Japp. 'But there's a difficulty.'

She looked at him inquiringly.

'Major Eustace (if it was him) left here last night at ten-twenty

and said goodbye to Mrs Allen on the doorstep.'

'Oh,' the girl's face fell. 'I see.' She.paused a minute or tw)

'But he might have come back later,' she said slowly.

'Yes, that is possible,' said Poirot.

Japp continued:

'Tell me, Miss Plenderleith, where was Mrs Allen in the

habit of receiving guests, here or in the room upstairs?'

'Both. But this room was used for more communal partie

for my own special friends. You see, the arrangement wa th;t

Barbara had the big bedroom and used it as a sitting-rool

well, and I had the little bedroom and used this room.'

'If Major Eustace came by appointment last night, in which

room do you think Mrs Allen would have received him?'

'I think she would probably bring him in here.' The girl

sounded a little doubtful. 'It would be less intimate. On the

other hand, if she wanted to write a cheque or anything of that

kind, she would probably take him upstairs. There arc no

writing materials down here.'

Japp shook his head.

'There was no question of a cheque. Mrs Allen drew out we

hundred pounds in cash yesterday. And so far we've not been

able to find any trace of it in the house.'

88

'And she gave it to that brute? Oh, poor Barbara! Poor, poor

Barbara!'

Poirot coughed.

'Unless, as you suggest, it was more or less an accident, it still

seems a remarkable fact that he should kill an apparently

regular source of income.'

'Accident? It wasn't an accident. He lost his temper and saw

red and shot her.'

'That is how you think it happened?'

'Yes.' She added vehemently, 'It was murder - murder?

Poirot said gravely:

'I will not ay that you are wrong, mademoiselle.'

Japp said:

'What cigarettes did Mrs Allen smoke?'

'Gaspers. There are some in that box.'

Japp opened the box, took out a cigarette and nodded. He

slipped the cigarette into his pocket.

'And you, mademoiselle?' asked Poirot.

'The same.'

'You do not smoke Turkish?'

'Never.'

'Nor Mrs Alien?'

'No. She didn't like them.'

Poirot asked:

'And Mr Laverton-West. What did he smoke?'

She stared hard at him.

'Charles? What does it matter what he smoked? You're not

going to pretend that he killed her?'

Poirot shrugged his shoulders.

'A man has killed the woman he loved before now,

mademoiselle.'

Jane shook her head impatiently.

'Charles wouldn't kill anybody. He's a very careful man.'

'All the same, mademoiselle, it is the careful men who

commit the cleverest murders.'

She stared at him.

'But not for the motive you have just advanced, M. Poirot.'

89

He bowed his head.

'No, that is true.'

Japp rose.

'Well, I don't think that there's much more I can do here. I'd

like to have one more look round.'

'In case that money should be tucked away somewhere

Certainly. Look anywhere you like. And in my room too

although it isn't likely Barbara would hide it there.'