Agatha Christie - Black Coffee

Ignoring his niece's interruption, the scientist continued. "Richard came down next. He strolled into the study by himself and remained there for some minutes."

"My God!" Richard exclaimed. "Really, Father, you surely don't suspect that I'd steal your wretched formula, do you?"

Looking directly at his son, Sir Claud replied meaningfully, "That piece of paper was worth a great deal of money."

"I see." His son regarded him steadily. "And I'm in debt. That's what you mean, isn't it?"

Sir Claud made no reply to him. His gaze sweeping over the others, he continued. "As I was saying, Richard remained in the study for some minutes. He reappeared in this room just as Lucia came in. When dinner was announced, a few minutes later, Lucia was no longer with us. I found her in the study, standing by the safe."

"Father!" exclaimed Richard, moving to his wife and putting an arm protectively about her.

"I repeat, standing by the safe," Sir Claud insisted. "She seemed very much agitated, and when I asked what was the matter she told me she felt unwell. I suggested that a glass of wine might be good for her. She assured me, however, that she was quite all right again, and then left me to join the others. Instead of following Lucia immediately to the dining-room, I remained behind in my study. I don't know why, but some instinct urged me to look in the safe. The envelope with the formula in it had disappeared."

There was a pause. No one spoke. The immense seriousness of the situation appeared to be dawning on everyone. Then Richard asked, "How have you assembled this information about our movements, Father?"

"By taking thought, of course," Sir Claud replied. "By observation and deduction. By the evidence of my own eyes, and by what I learned from questioning Tredwell."

"I notice you don't include Tredwell or any of the other servants among your suspects, Claud," Caroline Amory observed tartly. "Only your family."

"My family – and our guest," her brother corrected her.

"That is so, Caroline. I have established to my own satisfaction that neither Tredwell nor any of the domestics were in the study between the time I placed the formula in the safe and the time I opened the safe again to find it missing."

He looked at each of them in turn, before adding, "I hope the position is clear to you all. Whoever took the formula must still have it. Since we returned here from dinner, the dining-room has been thoroughly searched. Tredwell would have informed me if the piece of paper had been found hidden there. And, as you now realize, I have seen to it that no one has had the opportunity to leave this room."

For some moments there was a tense silence, broken only when Dr Carelli asked politely, "Is it your suggestion, then, Sir Claud, that we should all be searched?"

"That is not my suggestion," replied Sir Claud, consulting his watch. "It is now two minutes to nine. Hercule Poirot will have arrived at Market Cleve, where he is being met. At nine o'clock precisely. Tredwell has orders to switch off the lights from the main switch in the basement. We shall be in complete darkness in this room for one minute, and one minute only. When the lights go on again, matters will be out of my hands. Hercule Poirot will be here shortly, and he will be in charge of the case. But if, under cover of darkness, the formula is placed here -" and Sir Claud slapped his hand down on the table – "then I shall inform Monsieur Poirot that I had made a mistake and that I have no need of his services."

"That's an outrageous suggestion," Richard declared heatedly. He looked around at the others. "I say we should all be searched. I'm certainly willing."

"So am I, of course," Edward Raynor made haste to announce.

Richard Amory looked pointedly at Dr Carelli. The Italian smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "And I."

Richard's glance moved to his aunt. "Very well, if we must, we must," Miss Amory grumbled.

"Lucia?" Richard asked, turning to his wife.

"No, no, Richard," Lucia replied breathily. "Your father's plan is best."

Richard looked at her in silence for a moment.

"Well, Richard?" queried Sir Claud.

A heavy sigh was at first his only reply, and then, "Very well, I agree." He looked at his cousin Barbara, who gave a gesture of assent.

Sir Claud leaned back in his chair wearily, and spoke in a slow, dragging voice. "The taste of that coffee is still in my mouth," he said, and then yawned.

The clock on the mantelpiece began to strike, and there was complete silence as all turned to listen. Sir Claud turned slowly in his chair and looked steadily at his son, Richard. On the last stroke of nine, the lights suddenly went out and the room was plunged into darkness.

There were a few gasps, and some stifled exclamations from the women, and then Miss Amory's voice rang out clearly. "I don't care for this at all."

"Do be quiet, Aunt Caroline," Barbara ordered her. "I'm trying to listen."

For a few seconds there was absolute silence, followed by the sounds of heavy breathing, and then a rustling of paper. Silence again, before they all heard a kind of metallic clink, the sound of something tearing, and a loud bang, which might have been a chair being knocked over.

Suddenly, Lucia screamed. "Sir Claud! Sir Claud! I can't bear it. I must have light. Somebody, please!"

The room remained in darkness. There was a sharp intake of breath, and then a loud knock at the door leading to the hall. Lucia screamed again. As though in response, the lights suddenly came on again.

Richard was now standing by the door, apparently unable to decide whether or not to attempt to open it. Edward Raynor was on his feet by his chair, which had overturned. Lucia lay back in her chair, as though about to faint.

Sir Claud sat absolutely still in his arm-chair, with his eyes closed. His secretary suddenly pointed to the table beside his employer. "Look," he exclaimed. "The formula."

On the table beside Sir Claud was a long envelope of the type he had earlier described.

"Thank God!" cried Lucia. "Thank God!"

There was another knock at the door, which now opened slowly. Everyone's attention was fixed on the doorway as Tredwell ushered in a stranger and then withdrew.

The assembled company stared at the stranger.

What they saw was an extraordinary-looking little man, hardly more than five feet four inches in height, who carried himself with great dignity. His head was exactly the shape of an egg, and he carried it at a slight angle, like an inquiring terrier. His moustache was distinctly stiff and military. He was very neatly dressed.

"Hercule Poirot, at your service," said the stranger, and bowed.

Richard Amory held out a hand. "Monsieur Poirot," he said as they shook hands.

"Sir Claud?" asked Poirot. "Ah, no, you are too young, of course. You are his son, perhaps?" He moved past Richard into the center of the room. Behind him, another man, tall, middle-aged and of military bearing, had unobtrusively entered. As he moved to Poirot's side, the detective announced, "My colleague, Captain Hastings."

"What a delightful room," Hastings observed as he shook hands with Richard Amory.

Richard turned back to Poirot. "I'm sorry, Monsieur Poirot," he said, "but I fear we have brought you down here under a misapprehension. The need for your services has passed."

"Indeed?" replied Poirot.

"Yes, I'm sorry," Richard continued. "It's too bad, dragging you all the way down here from London. Of course, your fee – and expenses – I mean – er, that'll be all right, of course -"

"I comprehend perfectly," said Poirot, "but for the moment it is neither my fee nor my expenses which interests me."

"No? Then what – er -?"

"What does interest me, Mr Amory? I will tell you. It is just a little point, of no consequence, of course. But it was your father who sent for me to come. Why is it not he who tells me to go?"