minute. You don't want him to find you up there, do you?'
'You are right, my friend,' Poirot agreed as he got down slowly from the chair. His face wore a solemn expression.
'What on earth is the matter?' asked Hastings.
'It is that I am thinking of something,' Poirot replied with a faraway look in his eyes.
'What are you thinking of?'
'Dust, Hastings. Dust,' said Poirot in an odd voice.
The door opened, and Dr Carelli entered the room. He and Poirot greeted each other with the greatest of ceremony, each politely speaking the other's native tongue.
'Ah, Monsieur Poirot,' Carelli began. 'Vous voulez me questionner?'
'Si, Signer Dottore, se lei permette,' Poirot replied.
'Ah, lei parla italiano?'
'Si, ma preferisco parlare in francese.'
'Alors,' said Carelli, 'qu'est'ce que vous voulez me demander?'
'I say,' Hastings interjected with a certain irritation in his voice. 'What the devil is all this?'
'Ah, the poor Hastings is not a linguist. I had forgotten.' Poirot smiled. 'We had better speak English.'
'I beg your pardon. Of course,' Carelli agreed. He addressed Poirot with an air of great frankness. 'I am glad that you have sent for me, Monsieur Poirot,' he declared. 'Had you not done so, I should myself have requested an interview.'
'Indeed?' remarked Poirot, indicating a chair by the table.
Carelli sat, while Poirot seated himself in the armchair, and Hastings made himself comfortable on the settee.
'Yes,' the Italian doctor continued. 'As it happens, I have business in London of an urgent nature.'
'Pray, continue,' Poirot encouraged him.
'Yes. Of course, I quite appreciated the position last night. A valuable document had been stolen. I was the only stranger present. Naturally, I was only too willing to remain, to permit myself to be searched, in fact to insist on being searched. As a man of honour, I could do nothing else.'
'Quite so,' Poirot agreed. 'But today?'
'Today is different,' replied Carelli. 'I have, as I say, urgent business in London.'
'And you wish to take your departure?'
'Exactly.'
'It seems most reasonable,' Poirot declared. 'Do you not think so, Hastings?'
Hastings made no reply, but looked as though he did not think it at all reasonable.
'Perhaps a word from you, Monsieur Poirot, to Mr Amory, would be in order,' Carelli suggested. 'I should like to avoid any unpleasantness.'
'My good offices are at your disposal, Monsieur le docteur,' Poirot assured him. 'And now, perhaps you can assist me with one or two details.'
'I should be only too happy to do so,' Carelli replied.
Poirot considered for a moment, before asking, 'Is Madame Richard Amory an old friend of yours?'
'A very old friend,' said Carelli. He sighed. 'It was a delightful surprise, running across her so unexpectedly in this out-of-the-way spot.'
'Unexpectedly, you say?' Poirot asked.
'Quite unexpectedly,' Carelli replied, with a quick glance at the detective.
'Quite unexpectedly,' Poirot repeated. 'Fancy that!'
A certain tension had crept into the atmosphere. Carelli looked at Poirot sharply, but said nothing.
'You are interested in the latest discoveries of science?' Poirot asked him.
'Certainly. I am a doctor.'
'Ah! But that does not quite follow, surely,' Poirot observed. 'A new vaccine, a new ray, a new germ – all this, yes. But a new explosive, surely that is not quite the province of a doctor of medicine?'
'Science should be of interest to all of us,' Carelli insisted. 'It represents the triumph of man over nature. Man wrings secrets from nature in spite of her bitter opposition.'
Poirot nodded his head in agreement. 'It is indeed admirable, what you say there. It is poetic! But, as my friend Hastings reminded me just now, I am only a detective. I appreciate things from a more practical standpoint. This discovery of Sir Claud's – it was worth a great amount of money, eh?'
'Possibly.' Carelli's tone was dismissive. 'I have not given that side of the matter much thought.'
'You are evidently a man of lofty principles,' observed Poirot, 'and also, no doubt, a man of means. Travelling, for instance, is an expensive hobby.'
'One should see the world one lives in,' said Carelli drily.
'Indeed,' Poirot agreed. 'And the people who live in it. Curious people, some of them. The thief, for instance – what a curious mentality he must have!'
'As you say,' Carelli agreed, 'most curious.'
'And the blackmailer,' Poirot continued.
'What do you mean?' Carelli asked sharply.
'I said, the blackmailer,' Poirot repeated. There was an awkward pause, before he continued, 'But we are wandering from our subject – the death of Sir Claud Amory.'
'The death of Sir Claud Amory? Why is that our subject?'
'Ah, of course,' Poirot recalled. 'You do not yet know. I am afraid that Sir Claud did not die as the result of a heart attack. He was poisoned.' He watched the Italian closely for his reaction.
'Ah!' murmured Carelli, with a nod of the head.
'That does not surprise you?' asked Poirot.
'Frankly, no,' Carelli replied. 'I suspected as much last night.'
'You see, then,' Poirot continued, 'that the matter has become much more serious.' His tone changed. 'You will not be able to leave the house today, Dr Carelli.'
Leaning forward to Poirot, Carelli asked, 'Do you connect Sir Claud's death with the stealing of the formula?'
'Certainly,' Poirot replied. 'Do not you?'
Carelli spoke quickly and urgently. 'Is there no one in this house, no member of this family, who desired the death of Sir Claud, quite apart from any question of the formula? What does his death mean to most of the people in this house? I will tell you. It means freedom, Monsieur Poirot. Freedom, and what you mentioned just now – money. That old man was a tyrant, and apart from his beloved work he was a miser.'
'Did you observe all this last night, Monsieur le Docteur?' asked Poirot innocently.
'What if I did?' replied Carelli. 'I have eyes. I can see. At least three of the people in this house wanted Sir Claud out of the way.' He rose, and looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. 'But that does not concern me now.'
Hastings leaned forward, looking very interested, as Carelli continued, 'I am vexed that I cannot keep my appointment in London.'
'I am desolated, Monsieur le Docteur,' said Poirot. 'But what can I do?'
'Well, then, you have no further need of me?' asked Carelli.
'For the moment, no,' Poirot told him.
Dr Carelli moved to the door. 'I will tell you one thing more, Monsieur Poirot,' he announced, opening the door and turning back to face the detective. 'There are some women whom it is dangerous to drive too far.'
Poirot bowed to him politely, and Carelli returned his bow somewhat more ironically before making his exit.
Chapter 12
When Carelli had left the room, Hastings stared after him for a few moments.
