Poirot's Early Cases

'I am sorry, madame, but I do not touch'this particular kind of business. I wish you good morning.'

Our visitor snorted with indignation.

'That's it, is it, my fine fellow? Too proud, eh? Only deal with Government secrets and countesses' jewels? Let me tell you a servant's every bit as important as a tiara to a woman in my position. We can't all be fine ladies going out in our motors with our diamonds and our pearls. A good cook's a good cook - and when you lose her, it's as much to you as her pearls are to some fine lady.'

For a moment or two it appeared to be a toss up between Poirot's dignity and his sense of humour. Finally he laughed and sat down again.

'Madame, you are in the right, and I am in the wrong. Your remarks are just and intelligent. This case will be a novelty. Never yet have I hunted a missing domestic. Truly here is the problem of national importance that I was demanding of fate just before your arrival. En avant! You say this jewel of a cook went out on

Wednesday and did not return. That is the day before yesterday.' 'Yes, it was her day out.'

'But probably, madame, she has met with some accident. Have you inquired at any of the hospitals?'

'That's exactly what I thought yesterday, but this morning, if you please, she sent for her box. And not so much as a line to mel If I'd been at home, I'd not have let it go - treating me like thatl

But I'd just stepped out to the butcher.'

'Will you describe her to me?'

'She was middle-aged, stout, black hair turning grey - most respectable. She'd been ten years in her last place. Eliza Dunn, her name was.'

'And you had had - no disagreement with her on the Wednes-day?'

'None whatever. That's what makes it all so queer.'

'How many servants do you keep, madame?'

'Two. The house-parlourmaid, Annie, is a very nice girl. A bit forgetful and her head full of young men, but a good servant if you keep her up to her work.'

'Did she and the cook get on well together?'

'They had their ups and downs, of course - but on the whole, very well.'

'And the girl can throw no light on the mystery?'

'She says not - but you know what servants are - they all hang together.'

'Well, well, we must look into this. Where did you say you resided, madame?'

'At Clapham; 88 Prince Albert Road.'

'Bien, madame,, I will wish you good morning, and you may count upon seeing me at your residence during the course of the day.'

Mrs Todd, for such was our new friend's name, then took her departure. Poirot looked at me somewhat ruefully.

'Well, well, Hastings, this is a novel affair that we have here.

The Disappearance of the Clapham Cookl Never, never, must our friend Inspector Japp get to hear of thisl'

He then proceeded to heat an iron and carefully removed the grease spot from his grey suit by means of a piece of blotting-paper.

His moustaches he regretfully postponed to another day, and we set out for Clapham.

Prince Albert Road proved to be a street of small prim houses, all exactly alike, with neat lace curtains veiling the windows, and well polished brass knockers on the doors.

We rang the bell at No. 88, and the door was opened by a neat maid with a pretty face. Mrs Todd came out in the hall to greet us.

'Don't go, Annie,' she cried. 'This gentleman's a detective and he'll want to ask you some questions.'

Annie's face displayed a struggle between alarm and a pleasur-able excitement.

'I thank you, madame,' said Poirot bowing. 'I would like to question your maid now - and to see her alone, if I may.'

We were shown into a small drawing-room, and when Mrs Todd, with obvious reluctance, had left the room, Poirot com-menced his cross-examination.

'Voyons, Mademoiselle Annie, all that you shall tell us will be of the greatest importance. You alone can shed any light on the case. Without your assistance I can do nothing.'

The alarm vanished from the girl's face and the pleasurable excitement became more strongly marked.

'I'm sure, sir,' she said, 'I'll tell you anything I can.'

'That is good.' Poirot beamed approval on her. 'Now, first of all what is your own idea? You are a girl of remarkable intelligence.

That can be seen at oncel What is your own explanation of Eliza's disappearance?'

Thus encouraged, Annie fairly flowed into excited speech.

'White slavers, sir, I've said so all along! Cook was alway warning me against them. "Don't you sniff no scent, or eat any sweets - no matter how gentlemanly the fellowl" Those were her words to me. And now they've got herl I'm sure of it. As likely a not, she's been shipped to Turkey or one of them Eastern place, where I've heard they like them fat?

Poirot preserved an admirable gravity.

'But ia that case - and it is indeed an ideal - would she have ent for her trunk?'

'Well, I don't know, sir. She'd want her things - even in thoe foreign places.'

'Who came for the trunk - a man?' 'It was Carter Paterson, sir.' 'Did you pack it?'

'No, sir, it was already packed and corded.'

'Ahl That's interesting. That shows that when she left the hou on Wednesday, she had already determined not to return. You see that, do you not?'

'Yes, sir.' Annie looked slightly taken aback. 'I hadn't thought of that. But it might still have been white slavers, mightn't it, sir?' she added wistfully.

'Undoubtedlyl' said Poirot gravely. He went on: 'Did you both occupy the same bedroom?'

'No, sir, we had separate rooms.'

'And had Eliza expressed any dissatisfaction with her present post to you at all? Were you both happy here?'

'She'd never mentioned leaving. The place is all right - ' The girl hesitated.

'Speak freely,' said Poirot kindly. 'I shall not tell your mistress.'

'Well, of course, sir, she's a caution, Missus is. But the food's good. Plenty of it, and no stinting. Something hot for supper, good outings, and as much frying-fat as you like. And anyway, if Eliza did want to make a change, she'd never have gone off this way, I'm sure. She'd have stayed her month. Why, Missus could have a month's wages out of her for doing this?

'And the work, it is not too hard?'

'Well, she's particular - always poking round in corners and looking for dust. And then there's the lodger, or paying guest as he's always called. But that's only breakfast and dinner, same as

Master. They're out all day in the City.'

'You like your master?'

'He's all right - very quiet and a bit on the stingy side.'

'You can't remember, I suppose, the last thing Eliza said before she went out?'

'Yes, I can. "If there's any stewed peaches over from the dining-room," she says, "we'll have them for supper, and a bit of bacon and some fried potatoes." Mad over stewed peaches, she was. I shouldn't wonder if they didn't get her that way.'

'Was Wednesday her regular day out?'

'Yes, she had Wednesdays and I had Thursdays.'

Poirot asked a few more questions, then declared himself satisfied. Annie departed, and Mrs Todd hurried in, her face alight with curiosity. She had, I felt certain, bitterly resented her exclusion from the room during our conversation with Annie.

Poirot, however, was careful to soothe her feelings tactfully.

'It is difficult,' he explained, 'for a woman of exceptional intelligence such as yourself, madame, to bear patiently the roundabout methods we poor detectives are forced to use. To have patience with stupidity is difficult for the quick-witted.'

Having thus charmed away any little resentment on Mrs Todd's part, he brought the conversation round to her husband and elicited the information that he worked with a firm in the City and would not be home until after six.

'Doubtless he is very disturbed and worried by this unaccount-able business, eh? Is it not so?'

'He's never worried,' declared Mrs Todd. '"Well, well, get another, my dear." That's all he said! He's so calm that it drives me to distraction sometimes. "An ungrateful woman," he said. "We are well rid of her."' 'What about the other inmates of the house, madame?' 'You mean Mr Simpson, our paying guest? Well, as long as he gets his breakfast and his evening meal all right, he doesn't worry. ' 'What is. his profession, madame?' 'He works in a bank.' She mentioned its name, and I started slightly, remembering my perusal of the Daily Blare.