She laughed but again Poirot did not respond. Instead, he asked her what hotel she proposed to stay at in Charlock Bay.
'The Anchor Hotel. It is small and not expensive, but quite good.'
'So!' said Poirot. 'The Anchor Hotel. Precisely where Hastings here has made up his mind to stay. How oddl'
He twinkled at me.
'You are staying long in Charlock Bay?' asked Mary.
'One night only. I have business there. You could not guess, I am sure, what my profession is, mademoiselle?' I saw Mary consider several possibilities and reject them probably from a feeling of caution. At last, she hazarded the suggestion that Poirot was a conjurer. He was vastly entertained.
'Ahl But it is an idea thatl You think I take the rabbits out of the hat? No, mademoiselle. Me, I am the opposite of a conjurer.
The conjurer, he makes things disappear. Me, I make things that have disappeared, reappear.' He leaned forward dramatically so aa to give the words full effect. 'It is a secret, mademoiselle, but I will tell you, I am a detectivel' He leaned back in his chair pleased with the effect he had created. Mary Durrant stared at him spellbound. But any further conversation was barred for the braying of various horns outside announced that the road monsters were ready to proceed.
As Poirot and I went out together I commented on the charm of our luncheon companion. Poirot agreed.
'Yes, she is charming. But, also rather silly?' 'Silly?' 'Do not be outraged. A girl may be beautiful and have auburn hair and yet be silly. It is the height of foolishness to take two strangers into her confidence as she has done.' 'Well, she could see we were all right.' 'That is imbecile, what you say, my friend. Anyone who knows his job - naturally he will appear "all right". That little one she talked of being careful when she would have five hundred pounds in money with her. But she has five hundred pounds with her now.' 'In miniatures.' 'Exactly. In miniatures. And between one and the other, there is no great difference, mon ami.' 'But no one knows about them except us.' 'And the waiter and the people at the next table. And, doubtless, everal people in Ebermouthl Mademoiselle Durrant, she is charming, but, if I were Miss Elizabeth Penn, I would first of all instruct my new assistant in the common sense.' He paused and then said in a different voice: 'You know, my friend, it would be the easiest thing in the world to remove a suitcase from one of those char-h-bancs while we were all at luncheon.'
'Oh, come, Poirot, somebody will be sure to see.'
'And what would they see? Somebody removing his luggage.
It would be done in an open and aboveboard manner, and it would be nobody's business to interfere.'
'Do you mean - Poirot, are you hinting - But that fellow in the brown suit - it was his own suitcase?'
Poirot frowned. 'So it seems. All the same, it is curious, Hastings, that he should have not removed his suitcase before, when the car first arrived. He has not lunched here, you notice.'
'If Miss Durrant hadn't been sitting opposite the window, she wouldn't have seen him,' I said slowly.
'And since it was his own suitcase, that would not have mattered,' said Poirot. 'So let us dismiss it from our thoughts, mon ami.'
Nevertheless, when we had resumed our places and were speeding along once more, he took the opportunity of giving Mary Durrant a further lecture on the dangers of indiscretion which she received meekly enough but with the air of thinking it all rather a joke.
We arrived at Charlock Bay at four o'clock and were fortunate enough to be able to get rooms at the Anchor Hotel - a charming old-world inn in one of the side streets.
Poirot had just unpacked a few necessaries and was applying a little cosmetic to his moustache preparatory to going out to call upon Joseph Aarons when there came a frenzied knocking at the door. I called 'Come in,' and, to my utter amazement, Mary I)urrant appeared, her face white and large tears standing in her
'I do beg your pardon - but - but the most awful thing has happened. And you did say you were a detective?' This to Poirot.
'What has happened, mademoiselle?'
'I opened my suitcase. The miniatures were in a crocodile despatch case - locked, of course. Now, lookl'
She held out a small square crocodile-covered case. The lid hung loose. Poirot took it from her. The case had been forced;
great strength must have been used. The marks were plain enough. Poirot examined it and nodded.
'The miniatures?' he asked, though we both knew the answer well enough.
'Gone. They've been stolen. Oh, what shall I do?'
'Don't worry,' I said. 'My friend is Hercule Poirot. You must have heard of him. He'll get them back for you if anyone can.' 'Monsieur Poirot. The great Monsieur Poirot.'
Poirot was vain enough to be pleased at the obvious reverence in her voice. 'Yes, my child,' he said. 'It is I, myself. And you can leave your little affair in my hands. I will do all that can be done.
But I fear - I much fear - that it will be too late. Tell me, was the lock of your suitcase forced also?' She shook her head.
'Let me see it, please.'
We went together to her room, and Poirot examined the suitcase closely. It had obviously been opened with a key.
'Which is simple enough. These suitcase locks are all much of the same pattern. Eh bien, we must ring up the police and we must also get in touch with Mr Baker Wood as soon as possible. I will attend to that myself.'
I went with him and asked what he meant by saying it might be too late. 'Mon chef, I said today that I was the opposite of the conjurer - that I make the disappearing things reappear - but suppose someone has been beforehand with me. You do not understand? You will in a minute.'
He disappeared into the telephone box. He came out five minutes later looking very grave. 'It is as I feared. A lady called upon Mr Wood with the miniatures half an hour ago. She repre-sented herself as coming from Miss Elizabeth Penn. He was delighted with the miniatures and paid for them forthwith.' 'Half an hour ago - before we arrived here.'
Poirot smiled rather enigmatically. 'The Speedy cars are quite speedy, but a fast motor from, say, Monkhampton would get here a good hour ahead of them at least.'
'And what do we do now?'
'The good Hastings - always practical. We inform the police,
do all we can for Miss Durrant, and - yes, I think decidedly, we have an interview with Mr J. Baker Wood.'
We carried out this programme. Poor Mary Durrant was terribly upset, fearing her aunt would blame her.
'Which she probably will,' observed Poirot, as we set out for the Seaside Hotel where Mr Wood was staying. 'And with perfect justice. The idea of leaving five hundred pounds' worth of valuables in a suitcase and going to lunch! All the same, mort ami, there are one or two curious points about the case. That despatch box, for instance, why was it forced?'
'To get out the miniatures.'
'But was not that a foolishness? Say our thief is tampering with the luggage at lunch-time under the pretext of getting out his own. Surely it is much simpler to open the suitcase, transfer the despatch case unopened to his own suitcase, and get away, than to waste the time forcing the lock?'
'He had to make sure the miniatures were inside.'
Poirot did not look convinced, but, as we were just being shown into Mr Wood's suite, we had no time for more discussion.
I took an immediate dislike to Mr Baker Wood.
He was a large vulgar man, very much overdressed and wearing a diamond solitaire ring. He was blustering and noisy.
Of course, he'd not suspected anything amiss. Why should he?
The woman said she had the miniatures all right. Very fine specimens, too! Had he the numbers of the notes? No, he hadn't.
And who was Mr - er - Poirot, anyway, to come asking him all these questions?
'I will not ask you anything more, monsieur, except for one thing. A description of the woman who called upon you. Was she young and pretty?'