Hercule Poirot's Casebook

fundamentally unsound where food is concerned?

He looked round the restaurant.

'The world's a funny place. See that odd-looking old fellow

with a beard in the corner? Molly'll tell you he's always here

Tuesdays and Thursday nights. He has come here for close

on ten years now - he's a kind of landmark in the place. Yet

nobody here knows his name or where he lives or what his

business is. It's odd when you come to think of it.'

When the waitress brought the portions of turkey he said:

'I see you've still got Old Father Time over there?'

'That's right, sir. Tuesdays and Thursdays, his days are.

Not but what he came in here on a Monday last week! It quite

upset me! I felt I'd got my dates wrong and that it must be

Tuesday without my knowing it! But he came in the next

night as well - so the Monday was just a kind of extra, so to

speak.'

'An interesting deviation from habit,' murmured Poirot. 'I

wonder what the reason was?'

'Well, sir, if you ask me, I think he'd had some kind of

upset or worry.'

'Why did you think that? His manner?'

'No, sir - not his manner exactly. He was very quiet as he

172

always is. Never says much except good evening when he

comes and goes. No, it was his order.'

'His order?'

'I dare say you gentlemen will laugh at me,' Molly flushed

up, 'but when a gentleman has been here for ten years, you

get to know his likes and dislikes. He never could bear suet

pudding or blackberries and I've never known him take thick

soup - but on that Monday night he ordered thick tomato

soup, beefsteak and kidney pudding and blackberry tart!

Seemed as though he just didn't notice what he ordered!'

'Do you know,' said Hercule Poirot, 'I fred that ex-traordinarily

interesting.'

Molly looked gratified and departed.

'Well, Poirot,' said Henry Bonnington with a chuckle.

'Let's have a few deductions from you. All in your best

manner.'

'I would prefer to hear yours first.'

i 'Want me to be Watson, eh? Well, old fellow went to a

i doctor and the doctor changed his diet.'

· .'il 'To thick tomato soup, steak and kidney pudding and

i 'i blackberry tart? I cannot imagine any doctor doing that.'

'Don't believe it, old boy. Doctors will put you on to

anything.'

'That is the only solution that occurs to you?'

Henry Bonnington said:

'Well, seriously, I suppose there's only one explanation

possible. Our unknown friend was in the grip of some

powerful mental emotion. He was so perturbed by it that he

literally did not notice what he was ordering or eating.'

He paused a minute and then said:

'You'll be telling me next that you know just what was on

his mind. You'll say perhaps that he was making up his mind

to commit a murder.'

He laughed at his own suggestion.

Hercule Poirot did not laugh.

173

He has admitted that at that moment he was seriously

worried. He claims that he ought then to have had some

inkling of what was likely to occur.

His friends assure him that such an idea is quite fantastic.

It was some three weeks later that Hercule Poirot and

Bonnington met again - this time their meeting was in the

Tube.

They nodded to each other, swaying about, hanging on to

adjacent straps. Then at Piccadilly Circus there was a general

exodus and they found seats right at the forward end of the

car- a peaceful spot since nobody passed in or out that way.

'That's better,' said Mr Bonnington. 'Selfish lot, the

human race, they won't pass up the car however much you

ask 'em to!'

Hercule Poirot shrugged his shoulders.

'What will you?' he said. 'Life is too uncertain.'

'That's it. Here today, gone tomorrow,' said 3A

Bonnington with a kind of gloomy relish. 'And talking o

that, d'you remember that old boy we noticed at the Galla

Endeavour? I shouldn't wonder if he'd hopped it to a bettc.:

world. He's not been there for a whole week. Molly's quic

upset about it.'

Hercule Poirot sat up. His green eyes flashed.

'Indeed?he said. 'Indeed?'

Bonnington said:

'D'you remember I suggested he'd been o a doctor and

been put on a diet? Diet's nonsense of course - but I

shouldn't wonder if he had consulted a doctor about his

health and what the doctor said gave him a bit of a jolt. That

would account for him ordering things off the menu without

noticing what he was doing. Quite likely the jolt he-got

hurried him out of the world sooner than he would have gone

otherwise. Doctors ought to be careful what they tell a chap.'

'They usually are,' said Hercule Poirot.

174

'This is my station,' said Mr Bonnington. 'Bye, bye. Don't

suppoge we shall ever know now who the old boy was- not even

his name. Funny world!'

He hurried out of the carriage.

Hercule Poirot, sitting frowning, looked as though he did not

think it was such a funny world.

He went home and gave certain instructions to his faithful

valet, George.

Hercule Poirot ran his finger down a list of names. It was a

record of deaths within a certain area.

Poirot's fmger stopped.

'Henry Gascoigne. Sixty-nine. I might try him fast.'

Later in the day, Hercule Poirot was sitting in Dr

MacAndrew's surgery just off the King's Road. MacAndrew

was a tall red-haired Scotsman with an intelligent face.