The A.B.C. Murders (Hercule Poirot 13) - Page 67

“Oh, Mr. Cust, you don’t look well.”

“I’m quite all right, quite all right. Goodbye, Miss Marbury.”

He fumbled to raise his hat, caught up his suitcase and fairly hastened out of the front door.

“Funny old thing,” said Lily Marbury indulgently. “Looks half batty to my mind.”

II

Inspector Crome said to his subordinate:

“Get me out a list of all stocking manufacturing firms and circularize them. I want a list of all their agents—you know, fellows who sell on commission and tout for orders.”

“This the A B C case, sir?”

“Yes. One of Mr. Hercule Poirot’s ideas.” The inspector’s tone was disdainful. “Probably nothing in it, but it doesn’t do to neglect any chance, however faint.”

“Right, sir. Mr. Poirot’s done some good stuff in his time, but I think he’s a bit gaga now, sir.”

“He’s a mountebank,” said Inspector Crome. “Always posing. Takes in some people. It doesn’t take in me. Now then, about the arrangement for Doncaster….”

III

Tom Hartigan said to Lily Marbury:

“Saw your old dugout this morning.”

“Who? Mr. Cust?”

“Cust it was. At Euston. Looking like a lost hen, as usual. I think the fellow’s half loony. He needs someone to look after him. First he dropped his paper and then he dropped his ticket. I picked that up—he hadn’t the faintest idea he’d lost it. Thanked me in an agitated sort of manner, but I don’t think he recognized me.”

“Oh, well,” said Lily. “He’s only seen you passing in the hall, and not very often at that.”

They danced once round the floor.

“You dance something beautiful,” said Tom.

“Go on,” said Lily and wriggled yet a little closer.

They danced round again.

“Did you say Euston or Paddington?” asked Lily abruptly. “Where you saw old Cust, I mean?”

“Euston.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. What do you think?”

“Funny. I thought you went to Cheltenham from Paddington.”

“So you do. But old Cust wasn’t going to Cheltenham. He was going to Doncaster.”

“Cheltenham.”

“Doncaster. I know, my girl! After all, I picked up his ticket, didn’t I?”

“Well, he told me he was going to Cheltenham. I’m sure he did.”

Tags: Agatha Christie Hercule Poirot Mystery
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