Agatha Christie - Death in the Clouds

"No, sir, I didn't."

"What about you, Davis?"

"The last time I saw her was when I was handing the biscuits to go with the cheese. She was all right then."

"What is your system of serving meals?" asked Poirot. "Do each of you serve separate cars?"

"No, sir, we work it together. The soup, then the meat and vegetables and salad, then the sweet, and so on. We usually serve the rear car first, and then go out with a fresh lot of dishes to the front car."

Poirot nodded.

"Did this Morisot woman speak to anyone on the plane, or show any signs of recognition?" asked Japp.

"Not that I saw, sir."

"You, Davis?"

"No, sir."

"Did she leave her seat at all during the journey?"

"I don't think so, sir."

"There's nothing you can think of that throws any light on this business – either of you?"

Both the men thought, then shook their heads.

"Well, that will be all for now, then. I'll see you again later."

Henry Mitchell said soberly:

"It's a nasty thing to happen, sir. I don't like it – me having been in charge, so to speak."

"Well, I can't see that you're to blame in any way," said Japp. "Still, I agree, it's a nasty thing to happen."

He made a gesture of dismissal. Poirot leaned forward.

"Permit me one little question."

"Go ahead, M. Poirot."

"Did either of you two notice a wasp flying about the plane?"

Both men shook their heads.

"There was no wasp that I know of," said Mitchell.

"There was a wasp," said Poirot. "We have its dead body on the plate of one of the passengers."

"Well, I didn't see it, sir," said Mitchell.

"No more than did I," said Davis.

"No matter."

The two stewards left the room. Japp was running his eye rapidly over the passports.

"Got a countess on board," he said. "She's the one who's throwing her weight about, I suppose. Better see her first before she goes right off the handle and gets a question asked in the House about the brutal methods of the police."

"You will, I suppose, search very carefully all the baggage – the hand baggage – of the passengers in the rear car of the plane?"

Japp winked cheerfully.

"Why, what do you think, M. Poirot? We've got to find that blowpipe – if there is a blowpipe and we're not all dreaming! Seems like a kind of nightmare to me. I suppose that little writer chap hasn't suddenly gone off his onion and decided to do one of his crimes in the flesh instead of on paper? This poisoned-dart business sounds like him."

Poirot shook his head doubtfully.

"Yes," continued Japp, "everybody's got to be searched, whether they kick up rough or not, and every bit of truck they had with them has got to be searched, too – and that's flat."

"A very exact list might be made, perhaps," suggested Poirot. "A list of everything in these people's possession."

Japp looked at him curiously.

"That can be done if you say so, M. Poirot. I don't quite see what you're driving at, though. We know what we're looking for."

"You may, perhaps, mon ami. But I am not so sure. I look for something, but I know not what it is."

"At it again, M. Poirot! You do like making things difficult, don't you? Now for her ladyship, before she's quite ready to scratch my eyes out."

Lady Horbury, however, was noticeably calmer in her manner. She accepted a chair and answered Japp's questions without the least hesitation. She described herself as the wife of the Earl of Horbury, gave her address as Horbury Chase, Sussex, and Grosvenor Square, London. She was returning to London from Le Pinet and Paris. The deceased woman was quite unknown to her. She had noticed nothing suspicious during the flight over. In any case, she was facing the other way – towards the front of the plane – so had had no opportunity of seeing anything that was going on behind her. She had not left her seat during the journey. As far as she remembered, no one had entered the rear car from the front one, with the exception of the stewards. She could not remember exactly, but she thought that two of the men passengers had left the rear car to go to the wash rooms, but she was not sure of this. She had not observed anyone handling anything that could be likened to a blowpipe. No – in answer to Poirot – she had not noticed a wasp in the car.

Lady Horbury was dismissed. She was succeeded by the Honorable Venetia Kerr.

Miss Kerr's evidence was much the same as that of her friend. She gave her name as Venetia Anne Kerr, and her address as Little Paddocks, Horbury, Sussex. She herself was returning from the south of France. As far as she was aware, she had never seen the deceased before. She had noticed nothing suspicious during the journey. Yes, she had seen some of the passengers farther down the car striking at a wasp. One of them, she thought, had killed it. That was after luncheon had been served.

Exit Miss Kerr.

"You seem very much interested in that wasp, M. Poirot."

"The wasp is not so much interesting as suggestive, eh?"

"If you ask me," said Japp, changing the subject, "those two Frenchmen are the ones in this! They were just across the gangway from the Morisot woman, they're a seedy-looking couple, and that battered old suitcase of theirs is fairly plastered with outlandish foreign labels. Shouldn't be surprised if they'd been to Borneo or South America or whatever it is. Of course we can't get a line on the motive, but I dare say we can get that from Paris. We'll have to get the Sûreté to collaborate over this. It's their job more than ours. But if you ask me, those two toughs are our meat."

Poirot's eyes twinkled a little.

"What you say is possible, certainly; but as regards some of your points, you are in error, my friend. Those two men are not toughs or cutthroats, as you suggest. They are, on the contrary, two very distinguished and learned archaeologists."

"Go on! You're pulling my leg!"

"Not at all. I know them by sight perfectly. They are M. Armand Dupont and his son, M. Jean Dupont. They have returned not long ago from conducting some very interesting excavations in Persia at a site not far from Susa."

"Go on!"

Japp made a grab at a passport.

"You're right, M. Poirot," he said, "but you must admit they don't look up to much, do they?"

"The world's famous men seldom do! I myself – moi, qui vous parle – I have before now been taken for a hairdresser!"

"You don't say so," said Japp with a grin. "Well, let's have a look at your distinguished archaeologists."

M. Dupont père declared that the deceased was quite unknown to him. He had noticed nothing of what had happened on the journey over, as he had been discussing a very interesting point with his son. He had not left his seat at all. Yes, he had noticed a wasp towards the end of lunch. His son had killed it.

M. Jean Dupont confirmed this evidence. He had noticed nothing of what went on round about him. The wasp had annoyed him and he had killed it. What had been the subject of the discussion? The prehistoric pottery of the Near East.

Mr Clancy, who came next, came in for rather a bad time. Mr Clancy, so felt Inspector Japp, knew altogether too much about blowpipes and poisoned darts.

"Have you ever owned a blowpipe yourself?"

"Well, I – er – well, yes, as a matter of fact, I have."

"Indeed!" Inspector Japp pounced on the statement.

Little Mr Clancy fairly squeaked with agitation:

"You mustn't – er – misunderstand. My motives are quite innocent. I can explain -"

"Yes, sir, perhaps you will explain."

"Well, you see, I was writing a book in which the murder was committed that way."

"Indeed."

Again that threatening intonation. Mr Clancy hurried on:

"It was all a question of fingerprints – if you understand me. It was necessary to have an illustration illustrating the point I meant – I mean, the fingerprints – the position of them – the position of them on the blowpipe, if you understand me, and having noticed such a thing – in the Charing Cross Road it was – at least two years ago now – and so I bought the blowpipe, and an artist friend of mine very kindly drew it for me, with the fingerprints, to illustrate my Point. I can refer you to the book – 'The Clue of the Scarlet Petal' – and my friend too."