Agatha Christie - The Labours of Hercules

"Do you realise that what you're suggesting amounts to slander?"

Poirot smiled confidently.

"I am sure you will not take offence."

"I do take offence! As to blackmail there is no evidence of my ever having blackmailed anybody."

"No, no, I am quite sure of that. You misunderstand me. I was not threatening you. I was leading up to a simple question. How much?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Percy Perry.

"A matter of national importance, M. Perry."

They exchanged a significant glance.

Percy Perry said: "I'm a reformer, M. Poirot. I want to see politics cleaned up. I'm opposed to corruption. Do you know what the state of politics is in this country? The Augean Stables, no more, no less."

"Tiens!" said Hercule Poirot. "You, too, use that phrase."

"And what is needed," went on the editor, "to cleanse those stables is the great purifying flood of Public Opinion."

Hercule Poirot got up. He said: "I applaud your sentiments."

He added: "It is a pity that you do not feel in need of money."

Percy Perry said hurriedly: "Here, wait a sec – I didn't say that exactly…"

But Hercule Poirot had gone through the door.

His excuse for later events is that he does not like blackmailers.

Everett Dashwood, the cheery young man on the staff of The Branch, clapped Hercule Poirot affectionately on the back.

He said: "There's dirt and dirt, my boy. My dirt's clean dirt – that's all."

"I was not suggesting that you were on a par with Percy Perry."

"Damned little bloodsucker. He's a blot on our profession. We'd all down him if we could."

"It happens," said Hercule Poirot, "that I am engaged at the moment on a little matter of clearing up a political scandal."

"Cleaning out the Augean Stables, eh?" said Dashwood. "Too much for you, my boy. Only hope is to divert the Thames and wash away the Houses of Parliament."

"You are cynical," said Hercule Poirot, shaking his head.

"I know the world, that's all."

Poirot said: "You, I think, are just the man I seek. You have a reckless disposition, you are the good sport, you like something that is out of the usual."

"And granting all that?"

"I have a little scheme to put into action. If my ideas are right, there is a sensational plot to unmask. That, my friend, shall be a scoop for your paper."

"Can do," said Dashwood cheerfully.

"It will concern a scurrilous plot against a woman."

"Better and better. Sex stuff always goes."

"Then sit down and listen."

People were talking.

In the Goose and Feathers at Little Wimplington.

"Well, I don't believe it. John Hammett, he was always an honest man, he wasn't like some of these political folk."

"That's what they say about all swindlers before they're found out."

"Thousands, they say he made, out of that Palestine Oil business. Just a crook deal, it was."

"Whole lot of 'em tarred with the same brush. Dirty crooks, every one of 'em."

"You wouldn't find Everhard doing that. He's one of the old school."

"Eh, but I can't believe as John Hammett was a wrong 'un. You can't believe all these papers say."

"Ferrier's wife was 'is daughter. Have you seen what it says about her?"

They poured over a much-thumped copy of the X-ray News.

Caesar's wife? We hear that a certain highly-placed political lady was seen in very strange surroundings the other day. Complete with her gigolo. Oh Dagmar, Dagmar, how could you be so naughty?

A rustic voice said slowly: "Mrs Ferrier's not that kind. Gigolo? That's one of these dago skunks."

Another voice said: "You never can tell with women. The whole bunch of 'em wrong 'uns if you ask me."

People were talking.

"But, darling, I believe it's absolutely true. Naomi had it from Paul and he had it from Andy. She's absolutely depraved."

"But she was always so terribly dowdy and proper and opening Bazaars."

"Just camouflage, darling. They say she's a nymphomaniac. Well, I mean! It's all in the X-ray News. Oh, not right out, but you can read between the lines. I don't know how they get hold of these things."

"What do you think of all this political scandal touch? They say her father embezzled the Party funds."

People were talking.

"I don't like to think of it, and that's a fact, Mrs Rogers. I mean, I always thought Mrs Ferrier was a really nice woman."

"Do you think all these awful things are true?"

"As I say, I don't like to think it of her. Why, she opened a Bazaar in Pelchester only last June. I was as near to her as I am to that sofa. And she had such a pleasant smile."

"Yes, but what I say is there's no smoke without fire."

"Well, of course that's true. Oh dear, it seems as though you can't believe in anyone!"

Edward Ferrier, his face white and strained, said to Poirot: "These attacks on my wife! They're scurrilous – absolutely scurrilous! I'm bringing an action against that vile rag."

Hercule Poirot said: "I do not advise you to do so."

"But these damned lies have got to be stopped."

"Are you sure they are lies?"

"God damn you, yes!"

Poirot said, his head held a little on one side: "What does your wife say?"

For a moment Ferrier looked taken aback.

"She says it is best to take no notice… But I can't do that – everybody is talking."

Hercule Poirot said: "Yes, everybody is talking."

And then came the small bald announcement in all the papers: Mrs Ferrier has had a slight nervous breakdown. She has gone to Scotland to recuperate.

Conjectures, rumours – positive information that Mrs Ferrier was not in Scotland, had never been to Scotland.

Stories, scandalous stories, of where Mrs Ferrier really was…

And again, people talking.

"I tell you Andy saw her. At that frightful place! She was drunk or doped and with an awful Argentine gigolo – Ramon. You know!"

More talking.

Mrs Ferrier had gone off with an Argentine dancer. She had been seen in Paris, doped. She had been taking drugs for years. She drank like a fish.

Slowly the righteous mind of England, at first unbelieving, had hardened against Mrs Ferrier. Seemed as though there must be something in it! That wasn't the sort of woman to be the Prime Minister's wife. "A Jezebel, that's what she is, nothing better than a Jezebel!"

And then came the camera records.

Mrs Ferrier, photographed in Paris – lying back in a Night Club, her arm twined familiarly over the shoulder of a dark, olive-skinned vicious-looking young man.

Other snapshots – half-naked on a beach – her head on the lounge lizard's shoulder.

And underneath: "Mrs Ferrier has a good time…"

Two days later an action for libel was brought against the X-ray News.

The case for the prosecution was opened by Sir Mortimer Inglewood, KC. He was dignified and full of righteous indignation. Mrs Ferrier was the victim of an infamous plot – a plot only to be equalled by the famous case of the Queen's Necklace familiar to readers of Alexandre Dumas. That plot had been engineered to lower Queen Marie Antoinette in the eyes of the populace. This plot, also, had been engineered to discredit a noble and virtuous lady who was in this country in the position of Caesar's wife. Sir Mortimer spoke with bitter disparagement of Fascists and Communists both of whom sought to undermine Democracy by every unfair machination known. He then proceeded to call witnesses.

The first was the Bishop of Northumbria.

Dr Henderson, the Bishop of Northumbria was one of the best-known figures in the English church, a man of great saintliness and integrity of character. He was broadminded, tolerant, and a fine preacher. He was loved and revered by all who knew him.