Llewellyn waved aside the proffered box.
"Well?" he said. "Very well indeed," said Mr. Parker Pyne. "The police arrested the gang last night."
THE REGATTA MYSTERY
"The gang? What gang?"
"The Amalfi gang. I thought of them at once when you told me your story. I recognized their methods and once you had described the guests,
well, there was no doubt at all in my mind." "Who are the Amalfi gang?"
"Father, son and daughter-in-law--that is if Pietro and Maria are really married--which some doubt."
"I don't understand."
"It's quite simple. The name is Italian and no doubt the origin is Italian, but old Amalfi was born in America. His methods are usually the same. He impersonates a real business man, intro-duces himself to some prominent figure in the jewel business in some European country and then plays his little trick. In this case he was deliber-ately on the track of the Morning Star. Pointz' idiosyncrasy was well known in the trade. Maria Amalfi played the part of his daughter (amazing creature, twenty-seven at least, and nearly always plays a part of sixteen)."
"Not Eve!" gasped Llewellyn.
"Exactly. The third member of the gang got himself taken on as an extra waiter at the Royal Georgewit was holiday time, remember, and they would need extra staff. He may even have bribed a regular man to stay away. The scene is set. Eve challenges old Pointz and he takes on the bet. He passes round the diamond as he had done the night before. The waiters enter the room and Leathern retains the stone until they have left the room. When they do leave, the diamond lea¢s
also, neatly attached with a morsel of chewing 24 Agatha Christie
gum to the underside of the plate that Pietro bears away. So simple!" "But I saw it after that." "No, no, you saw a paste replica, good enough to deceive a casual glance. Stein, you told me, hardly looked at it. Eve drops it, sweeps off a glass too and steps firmly on stone and glass together. Miraculous disappearance of diamond. Both Eve and Leathern can submit to as much searching as anyone pleases." "Well--I'm--" Evan shook his head, at a loss for words. "You say you recognized the gang from my description. Had they worked this trick before?" "Not exactly--but it was their kind of business. Naturally my attention was at once directed to the girl Eve." "Why? I didn't suspect her--nobody did. She seemed such a--such a child."
"That is the peculiar genius of Maria Amalfi. She is more like a child than any child could
possibly be! And then the plasticine! This bet was supposed to have arisen quite spontaneouslymyet the little lady had some plasticine with her all handy. That spoke of premeditation. My suspicions fastened on her at once." Llewellyn rose to his feet. "Well, Mr. Parker Pyne, I'm no end obliged to you." "Classification," murmured Mr. Parker Pyne. "The classification of criminal types--it interests me." "You'll let me know how much--er--" ,. "My fee will be quite moderate," said Mr.
THE REGATTA MYSTERY 25
Parker Pyne. "It will not make too big a hole in the--er--horse racing profits. All the same, young man, I should, I think, leave the horses alone in
future. Very uncertain animal, the horse."
"That's all right," said Evan.
He shook Mr. Parker Pyne by the hand and strode from the office.
He hailed a taxi and gave the address of Janet Rustington's flat.
He felt in a mood to carry all before him.
'T/e Mystery
of the Bagdad Chest
The words made a catchy headline, and I said as much to my friend, Hercule Poirot. I knew none of the parties. My interest was merely the dispas-sionate one of the man in the street. Poirot agreed.
"Yes, it has a flavor of the Oriental, of the mysterious. The chest may very well have been a sham Jacobean one from the Tottenham Court Road; none the less the reporter who thought of
naming it the Bagdad Chest was happily inspired.
The word 'Mystery' is also thoughtfully placed in juxtaposition, though I understand there is very little mystery about the case."
"Exactly. It is all rather horrible and macabre, but it is not mysterious."
"Horrible and macabre," repeated Poir°t thoughtfully. "The whole idea is revolting," I said, rising to
30 Agatha Christie
my feet and pacing up and down the room. "The murderer kills this man--his friend--shoves him into the chest, and half an hour later is dancing in that same room with the wife of his victim. Think! If she had imagined for one moment--"
"True," said Poirot thoughtfully. "That much-vaunted possession, a woman's intuition--it does
not seem to havebeen working."
"The party seems to have gone off very mer-rily,'' I said with a slight shiver. "And all that time, as they danced and played poker, there was a dead man in the room with them. One could write a play about such an idea."
"It has been done," said Poirot. "But console yourself, Hastings," he added kindly. "Because a theme has been used once, there is no reason why it should not be used again. Compose your drama."
I had picked up the paper and was studying the rather blurred reproduction of a photograph.
"She must be a beautiful woman," I said slowly. "Even from this, one gets an idea."
Below the picture ran the inscription:
A RECENT PORTRAIT OF MRS. CLAYTON, THE
WIFE OF THE MURDERED MAN
Poirot took the paper from me.
"Yes," he said. "She is beautiful. Doubtless
she is of those born to trouble the souls of men." He handed the paper back to me with a sigh. "Dieu merci, I am not of an ardent tempera-ment. It has saved me from many embarrass-ments. I am duly thankful."
THE MYSTERY OF THE BAGDAD CHEST 31
I do not remember that we discussed the case further. Poirot displayed no special interest in it at the time. The facts were so clear, and there was so little ambiguity about them, that discussion seemed merely futile. Mr. and Mrs. Clayton and Major Rich were friends of fairly long standing. On the day in question, the tenth of March, the Claytons had accepted