'Are you talking about criminals? You should study the criminal code of Hammurabi, M. Poirot.1800 BC. Most interesting. The man who is caught stealing during a fire shall be thrown into the fire.'
He stared pleasurably ahead of him towards the electric grill.
'And there are older, Sumerian laws. If a wife hateth her husband and saith unto him, 'Thou art not my husband' they shall throw her into the river. Cheaper and easier than the divorce court. But if a husband says that to his wife he only has to pay her a certain measure of silver. Nobody throws him in the river.'
'The same old story,' said Alice Cunningham. 'One law for the man and one for the woman.'
'Women, of course, have a greater appreciation of monetary value,' said the Professor thoughtfully. 'You know,' he added, 'I like this place. I come here most evenings. I don't have to pay. The Countess arranged that – very nice of her – in consideration of my having advised her about the decorations, she says. Not that they're anything to do with me really – I'd no idea what she was asking me questions for – and naturally she and the artist have got everything quite wrong. I hope nobody will ever know I had the remotest connection with the dreadful things. I should never live it down. But she's a wonderful woman – rather like a Babylonian, I always think. The Babylonians were good women of business, you know -'
The Professor's words were drowned in a sudden chorus. The word 'Police' was heard – women rose to their feet, there was a babel of sound. The lights went out and so did the electric grill.
As an undertone to the turmoil the Professor's voice went on tranquilly reciting various excerpts from the laws of Hammurabi.
When the lights went on again Hercule Poirot was halfway up the wide, shallow steps. The police officers by the door saluted him, and he passed out into the street and strolled to the corner. Just round the corner, pressed against the wall was a small and odoriferous man with a red nose. He spoke in an anxious, husky whisper.
'I'm 'ere guv'nor. Time for me to do my stuff?'
'Yes. Go on.'
'There's an awful lot of coppers about!'
'That is all right. They've been told about you.'
'I 'ope they won't interfere, that's all?'
'They will not interfere. You're sure you can accomplish what you have set out to do? The animal in question is both large and fierce.'
''E won't be fierce to me,' said the little man confidently. 'Not with what I've got 'ere! Any dog'll follow me to Hell for it!'
'In this case,' murmured Hercule Poirot, 'he has to follow you out of Hell!'
V
In the small hours of the morning the telephone rang. Poirot picked up the receiver.
Japp's voice said: 'You asked me to ring you.'
'Yes, indeed. Eh bien?'
'No dope – we got the emeralds.'
'Where?'
'In Professor Liskeard's pocket.'
'Professor Liskeard?'
'Surprises you, too? Frankly I don't know what to think! He looked as astonished as a baby, stared at them, said he hadn't the faintest idea how they got in his pocket, and dammit I believe he was speaking the truth! Varesco could have slipped them into his pocket easily enough in the blackout. I can't see a man like old Liskeard being mixed up in this sort of business. He belongs to all these highfalutin' societies, why he's even connected with the British Museum! The only thing he ever spends money on is books, and musty old second-hand books at that. No, he doesn't fit. I'm beginning to think we're wrong about the whole thing – there never has been any dope in that Club.'
'Oh, yes there has, my friend, it was there tonight. Tell me, did no one come out through your secret way?'
'Yes, Prince Henry of Scandenberg and his equerry – he only arrived in England yesterday. Vitamian Evans, the Cabinet Minister (devil of a job being a Labour Minister, you have to be so careful! Nobody minds a Tory politician spending money on riotous living because the taxpayers think it's his own money – but when it's a Labour man the public feel it's their money he's spending! And so it is in a manner of speaking.) Lady Beatrice Viner was the last – she's getting married the day after tomorrow to the priggish young Duke of Leominster. I don't believe any of that lot were mixed up in this.'
'You believe rightly. Nevertheless, the dope was in the Club and someone took it out of the Club.'
'Who did?'
'I did, mon ami,' said Poirot softly.
He replaced the receiver, cutting off Japp's spluttering noises, as a bell trilled out. He went and opened the front door. The Countess Rossakoff sailed in.
'If it were not that we are, alas, too old, how compromising this would be!' she exclaimed. 'You see, I have come as you told me to do in your note. There is, I think, a policeman behind me, but he can stay in the street. And now, my friend, what is it?'
Poirot gallantly relieved her of her fox furs.
'Why did you put those emeralds in Professor Liskeard's pocket?' he demanded. 'Ce n'est pas gentille, ce que vous avez fait la!'
The Countess's eyes opened wide.
'Naturally, it was in your pocket I meant to put the emeralds!'
'Oh, in my pocket?'
'Certainly. I cross hurriedly to the table where you usually sit – but the lights they are out and I suppose by inadvertence I put them in the Professor's pocket.'
'And why did you wish to put stolen emeralds in my pocket?'
'It seemed to me – I had to think quickly, you understand – the best thing to do!'
'Really, Vera, you are impayable!'
'But, dear friend, consider! The police arrive, the lights go out (our little private arrangement for the patrons who must not be embarrassed) and a hand takes my bag off the table. I snatch it back, but I feel through the velvet something hard inside. I slip my hand in, I find what I know by touch to be jewels and I comprehend at once who has put them there!'
'Oh you do?'
'Of course I do! It is that salaud! It is that lizard, that monster, that double-faced, double-crossing, squirming adder of a pig's son, Paul Varesco.'
'The man who is your partner in Hell?'
'Yes, yes, it is he who owns the place, who puts up the money. Until now I do not betray him – I can keep faith, me! But now that he double-crosses me, that he tries to embroil me with the police – ah! now I will spit his name out – yes, spit it out!'
'Calm yourself,' said Poirot, 'and come with me into the next room.'
He opened the door. It was a small room and seemed for a moment to be completely filled with dog. Cerberus had looked outsize even in the spacious premises of Hell. In the tiny dining-room of Poirot's service flat there seemed nothing else but Cerberus in the room. There was also, however, the small and odoriferous man.
'We've turned up here according to plan, guv'nor,' said the little man in a husky voice.
'Dou-dou!' screamed the Countess. 'My angel Dou-dou!'
Cerberus beat the floor with his tail – but he did not move.
'Let me introduce you to Mr William Higgs,' shouted Poirot, above the thunder of Cerberus's tail. 'A master in his profession. During the brouhaha tonight,' went on Poirot, 'Mr Higgs induced Cerberus to follow him up out of Hell.'
