Murder in the Mews

‘I comprehend, mademoiselle. It is most understandable—most natural. To sit in this house and think—no, it would not be pleasant.’

‘So long as you understand,’ said Jane shortly.

‘You belong to a club?’

‘Yes, I play at Wentworth.’

‘It has been a pleasant day,’ said Poirot.

‘Alas, there are few leaves left on the trees now! A week ago the woods were magnificent.’

‘It was quite lovely today.’

‘Good afternoon, Miss Plenderleith,’ said Japp formally. ‘I’ll let you know when there’s anything definite. As a matter of fact we have got a man detained on suspicion.’

‘What man?’

She looked at them eagerly.

‘Major Eustace.’

She nodded and turned away, stooping down to put a match to the fire.

‘Well?’ said Japp as the car turned the corner of the mews.

Poirot grinned.

‘It was quite simple. The key was in the door this time.’

‘And—?’

Poirot smiled.

‘Eh, bien, the golf clubs had gone—’

‘Naturally. The girl isn’t a fool, whatever else she is. Anything else gone?’

Poirot nodded his head.

‘Yes, my friend—the little attaché-case!’

The accelerator leaped under Japp’s foot.

‘Damnation!’ he said. ‘I knew there was something. But what the devil is it? I searched that case pretty thoroughly.’

‘My poor Japp—but it is—how do you say, “obvious, my dear Watson”?’

Japp threw him an exasperated look.

‘Where are we going?’ he asked.

Poirot consulted his watch.

‘It is not yet four o’clock. We could get to Wentworth, I think, before it is dark.’

‘Do you think she really went there?’

‘I think so—yes. She would know that we might make inquiries. Oh, yes, I think we will find that she has been there.’

Japp grunted.

‘Oh well, come on.’ He threaded his way dexterously through the traffic. ‘Though what this attaché-case business has to do with the crime I can’t imagine. I can’t see that it’s got anything at all to do with it.’