The Gate of Baghdad: An Agatha Christie Short Story

He did not find it very interesting. The local news meant nothing to him and nothing of importance seemed to be going on elsewhere. He found a few paragraphs headed Londres.

The first referred to financial matters. The second dealt with the supposed destination of Mr Samuel Long, the defaulting financier. His defalcations now amounted to the sum of three millions and it was rumoured that he had reached South America.

‘Not too bad for a man just turned thirty,’ said Mr Parker Pyne to himself.

‘I beg your pardon?’

Parker Pyne turned to confront an Italian General who had been on the same boat with him from Brindisi to Beirut.

Mr Parker Pyne explained his remark. The Italian General nodded his head several times.

‘He is a great criminal, that man. Even in Italy we have suffered. He inspired confidence all over the world. He is a man of breeding, too, they say.’

‘Well, he went to Eton and Oxford,’ said Mr Parker Pyne cautiously.

‘Will he be caught, do you think?’

‘Depends on how much of a start he got. He may be still in England. He may be – anywhere.’

‘Here with us?’ the General laughed.

‘Possibly.’ Mr Parker Pyne remained serious. ‘For all you know, General, I may be he.’

The General gave him a startled glance. Then his olive-brown face relaxed into a smile of comprehension.

‘Oh! That is very good – very good indeed. But you –’

His eyes strayed downwards from Mr Parker Pyne’s face.

Mr Parker Pyne interpreted the glance correctly.

‘You mustn’t judge by appearances,’ he said. ‘A little additional – er – embonpoint – is easily managed and has a remarkably ageing effect.’

He added dreamily:

‘Then there is hair dye, of course, and face stain, and even a change of nationality.’

General Poli withdrew doubtfully. He never knew how far the English were serious.