Agatha Christie - Peril at End House

'We made it for him.'

'And he left his fortune-how?'

'There were several bequests-one to the Natural History Museum-but the bulk of his large-his, I may say, very large fortune – he left to Captain Michael Seton absolutely. He had no other near relations.'

'A very large fortune, you say?'

'The late Sir Matthew was the second richest man in England,' replied Mr Whitfield, composedly.

'He had somewhat peculiar views, had he not?' Mr Whitfield looked at him severely.

'A millionaire, M. Poirot, is allowed to be eccentric. It is almost expected of him.'

Poirot received his correction meekly and asked another question. 'His death was unexpected, I understand?'

'Most unexpected. Sir Matthew enjoyed remarkably good health. He had an internal growth, however, which no one had suspected. It reached a vital tissue and an immediate operation was necessary. The operation was, as always on these occasions, completely successful. But Sir Matthew died.'

'And his fortune passed to Captain Seton.'

'That is so.'

'Captain Seton had, I understand, made a will before leaving England?'

'If you can call it a will-yes,' said Mr Whitfield, with strong distaste.

'It is legal?'

'It is perfectly legal. The intention of the testator is plain and it is properly witnessed. Oh, yes, it is legal.'

'But you do not approve of it?’

‘My dear sir, what are we for?'

I had often wondered. Having once had occasion to make a perfectly simple will myself. I had been appalled at the length and verbiage that resulted from my solicitor's office.

'The truth of the matter was,' continued Mr Whitfield, 'that at the time Captain Seton had little or nothing to leave. He was dependent on the allowance he received from his uncle. He felt, I suppose, that anything would do.'

And had thought correctly, I whispered to myself. 'And the terms of this will?' asked Poirot.

'He leaves everything of which he dies possessed to his affianced wife, Miss Magdala Buckley absolutely. He names me as his executor.

'Then Miss Buckley inherits?'

'Certainly Miss Buckley inherits.'

'And if Miss Buckley had happened to die last Monday?'

'Captain Seton having predeceased her, the money would go to whomever she had named in her will as residuary legatee-or failing a will to her next of kin.'

'I may say,' added Mr Whitfield, with an air of enjoyment, 'that death duties would have been enormous. Enormous! Three deaths, remember, in rapid succession.' He shook his head. 'Enormous!'

'But there would have been something left?' murmured Poirot, meekly.

'My dear sir, as I told you, Sir Matthew was the second richest man in England.'

Poirot rose.

'Thank you, Mr Whitfield, very much for the information that you have given me.'

'Not at all. Not at all. I may say that I shall be in communication with Miss Buckley-indeed, I believe the letter has already gone. I shall be happy to be of any service I can to her.'

'She is a young lady,' said Poirot, 'who could do with some sound legal advice.’

‘There will be fortune hunters, I am afraid,' said Mr Whitfield, shaking his head.

'It seems indicated,' agreed Poirot. 'Good day, Monsieur.'

'Goodbye, M. Poirot. Glad to have been of service to you. Your name is-ah!-familiar to me.'

He said this kindly-with an air of one making a valuable admission. 'It is all exactly as you thought, Poirot,' I said, when we were outside.

'Mon ami, it was bound to be. It could not be any other way. We will go now to the Cheshire Cheese where Japp meets us for an early dinner.'

We found Inspector Japp of Scotland Yard awaiting us at the chosen rendezvous. He greeted Poirot with every sign of warmth.

'Years since I've seen you, Monsieur Poirot. Thought you were growing vegetable marrows in the country.'

'I tried, Japp, I tried. But even when you grow vegetable marrows you cannot get away from murder.'

He sighed. I knew of what he was thinking-that strange affair at Fernley Park. How I regretted that I had been far away at that time.

'And Captain Hastings too,' said Japp. 'How are you, sir?’

‘Very fit, thanks,' I said.

'And now there are more murders?' continued Japp, facetiously.

'As you say-more murders.'

'Well, you mustn't be depressed, old cock,' said Japp. 'Even if you can't see your way clear-well-you can't go about at your time of life and expect to have the success you used to do. We all of us get stale as the years go by. Got to give the young 'uns a chance, you know.'

'And yet the old dog is the one who knows the tricks,' murmured Poirot. 'He is cunning. He does not leave the scent.'

'Oh! well-we're talking about human beings, not dogs.'

'Is there so much difference?'

'Well, it depends how you look at things. But you're a caution, isn't he, Captain Hastings? Always was. Looks much the same-hair a bit thinner on top but the face fungus fuller than ever.'

'Eh?' said Poirot. 'What is that?'

'He's congratulating you on your moustaches,' I said, soothingly.

'They are luxuriant, yes,' said Poirot, complacently caressing them. Japp went off into a roar of laughter.

'Well,' he said, after a minute or two, 'I've done your bit of business. Those finger-prints you sent me-'

'Yes?' said Poirot, eagerly.

'Nothing doing. Whoever the gentleman may be-he hasn't passed through our hands. On the other hand, I wired to Melbourne and nobody of that description or name is known there.'

'Ah!'

'So there may be something fishy after all. But he's not one of the lads.'

'As to the other business,' went on Japp.

'Yes?'

'Lazarus and Son have a good reputation. Quite straight and honourable in their dealings. Sharp, of course-but that's another matter. You've got to be sharp in business. But they're all right. They're in a bad way, though-financially, I mean.'

'Oh!-is that so?'

'Yes-the slump in pictures has hit them badly. And antique furniture too. All this modern continental stuff coming into fashion. They built new premises last year and-well-as I say, they're not far from Queer Street.'

'I am much obliged to you.'

'Not at all. That sort of thing isn't my line, as you know. But I made a point of finding out as you wanted to know. We can always get information.'

'My good Japp, what should I do without you?'

'Oh! that's all right. Always glad to oblige an old friend. I let you in on some pretty good cases in the old days, didn't I?'

This, I realized, was Japp's way of acknowledging indebtedness to Poirot, who had solved many a case which had baffled the inspector.

'They were the good days-yes.'

'I wouldn't mind having a chat with you now and again even in these days. Your methods may be old-fashioned but you've got your head screwed on the right way, M. Poirot.'

'What about my other question. The Dr MacAllister?'

'Oh, him! He's a woman's doctor. I don't mean a gynaecologist. I mean one of these nerve doctors-tell you to sleep in purple walls and orange ceiling-talk to you about your libido, whatever that is-tell you to let it rip. He's a bit of a quack, if you ask me-but he gets the women all right. They flock to him. Goes abroad a good deal-does some kind of medical work in Paris, I believe.'

' Why Dr MacAllister?' I asked, bewildered. I had never heard of the name. 'Where does he come in?'

'Dr MacAllister is the uncle of Commander Challenger,' explained Poirot. 'You remember he referred to an uncle who was a doctor?'

'How thorough you are,' I said. 'Did you think he had operated on Sir Matthew?'

'He's not a surgeon,' said Japp.

'Mon ami,' said Poirot, 'I like to inquire into everything. Hercule Poirot is a good dog. The good dog follows the scent, and if, regrettably, there is no scent to follow, he noses around-seeking always something that is not very nice. So also, does Hercule Poirot. And often-Oh! so often-does he find it!'