Hercule Poirot's Casebook

'Yes, I have to be most careful. I must not overfire myself. All the specialists say so!' Mrs Clapperton had embarked on the to

her - ever-fascinating topic of her health. 'John, poor

darling, wears himself out trying to prevent me from doing too

much. I live so intensely, if you know what I mean, M. Poirot?'

'Yes, yes.'

'He always says to me: "Try to be more of a vegetable,

Adeline." But I can't. Life was meant to be lived, I feel. ^5. a

matter of fact I wore myself out as a girl in the war. My hosp? d - you've heard of my hospital? Of course I had nurses a:. i

matrons and all that - but I actually ran it.' She sighed.

'Your vitality is marvellous, dear lady,' said Poirot, with l.:

slightly mechanical air of one responding to his cue.

Mrs Clapperton gave a girlish laugh.

'Everyone tells me how young I am! It's absurd. I never try

to pretend I'm a day less than forty-three,' she continued with

slightly mendacious candour, 'but a lot of people fred it hard to

believe. "You're so alive, Adelkne," they say to me. But really,

M. Poirot, what would one be if one wasn't alive?'

190

'Dead,' said Poirot.

Mrs Clapperton frowned. The reply was not to her --hking.

The man, she derided, was trying to be funny. She got up and

said coldly: 'I must f'md John.'

As she stepped through the door she dropped her handbag.

It opened and the contents flew far and wide. Poirot rushed

gallantly to the rescue. It was some few minutes before the

lipsticks, vanity boxes, cigarette case and lighter and other odds

and ends were collected. Mrs Clapperton thanked him politely,

then she swept down the deck and saj.'d, 'John '

Colonel Clapperton was still deep in conversation with Miss

Henderson. He swung round and came quickly to meet his

wife. He bent over her protectively. Her deck chair - was it in

the right place? Wouldn't it be better - ? His manner was

courteous - full of gentle consideration. Clearly an adored wife

spoilt by an adoring husband.

Miss Ellie Henderson looked out at the horizon as though

something about it rather disgusted her.

Standing in the smoking-room door, Poirot looked on.

A hoarse quavering voice behind him said:' I'd take a hatchet

to that woman if I were her husband.' The old gentleman

known disrespectfully among the younger set on board as the

Grandfather of All the Tea Planters, had just shttttled in. 'Boy!'

he called. 'Get me a whisky peg.'

Poirot stooped to retrieve a torn scrap of notepaper, an

overlooked item from the contents of Mrs Clapperton's bag.

Part of a prescription, he noted, containing digitalin. He put it

in his pocket, meaning to reswre it to Mrs Clapperton later.

'Yes,' went on the aged passenger. 'Poisonous woman. I

remember a woman like that in Poona. In '87 that was.'

'Did anyone take a hatchet to her?' inquired Poirot.

The old gentleman shook his head sadly.

'Worried her husband into his grave within the year.

Clapperton ought to assert himself. Gives his wife her head too

much.'

'She holds the purse strings,' said Poirot gravely.

'Ha, ha!' chuckled the old gentleman. 'You've put the matter

in a nutshell. Holds the purse strings. Ha, ha!'

191

Two girls burst into the smoking-room. One had a r.

face with freckles and dark hair streaming out in a windsw?pt

confusion, the other had freckles and curly chestnut hair.

'A rescue - a rescue!' cried Kitty Mooney. 'Pam and I

going to rescue Colonel Clapperton.'

'From his wife,' gasped Pamela Cregan.

'We think he's a pet...'

'And she's just awful - she won't let him do anything,' the

two girls exclaimed.

'And if he isn't with her, he's usually grabbed by the

Henderson woman ...'

'Who's quite nice. But terribly old...'

They ran out, gasping in between giggles. 'A rescue - a

rescue...'

That the rescue of Colonel Clapperton was no isolated sally,

but a fixed projech was made clear that same evening when the

eighteen-year-old Para Cregan came up to Hercule Poirot, and

murmured: 'Watch us, M. Poirot. He's going to be cut out

from under her nose and taken to walk in the moonlight on the

boat deck.'

It was just at that moment that Colonel Clapperton was

saying: 'I grant you the price of a Rolls-Royce. But it's

practically good for a lifetime. Now my car '

'My car, I think, John.' Mrs Clapperton's voice was shrill

and penetrating.

He showed no annoyance at her ungradousness. Either :

was used to it by this time, or else 'Or

else?' thought Poirot and let himself speculate.

'Certainly, my dear, your car',' Clapperton bowed to his a s

and finished what he had been saying, perfectly unrutTled.

'Voild ce qu'on appelle le pukka sahib,' thought Poirot. 't '

the General Forbes says that Clapperton is no gentleman at .

I wonder now.'

There was a suggestion of bridge. Mrs Clapperton, General

Forbes and a hawk-eyed couple sat down to it. Miss Henders, '

had excused herself and gone out on deck.

192

'What about your husband?' asked General Forbes,

hesitating.

'John won't play,' said Mrs Clapperton. 'Most tiresome of

him.'

The four bridge players began shuffling the cards.

Para and Kitty advanced on Colonel Clappenon. Each one

took an arm.