LITMIR.BIZ

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      ‘A Pom.’

      ‘Smaller than a Pom.’

      ‘A griffon?’ I suggested doubtfully.

      ‘Smaller even than a griffon. A species unknown to the Kennel Club.’

      I looked at him. His face was alight with excitement and satisfaction.

      ‘I was right,’ he murmured. ‘I knew I was right. Come, Hastings.’

      As we stepped out into the hall and the panel closed behind us, a young lady came out of a door farther down the passage. Mr Waverly presented her to us.

      ‘Miss Collins.’

      Miss Collins was about thirty years of age, brisk and alert in manner. She had fair, rather dull hair, and wore pince-nez.

      At Poirot’s request, we passed into a small morning-room, and he questioned her closely as to the servants and particularly as to Tredwell. She admitted that she did not like the butler.

      ‘He gives himself airs,’ she explained.

      They then went into the question of the food eaten by Mrs Waverly on the night of the 28th. Miss Collins declared that she had partaken of the same dishes upstairs in her sitting-room and had felt no ill effects. As she was departing I nudged Poirot.

      ‘The dog,’ I whispered.

      ‘Ah, yes, the dog!’ He smiled broadly. ‘Is there a dog kept here by any chance, mademoiselle?’

      ‘There are two retrievers in the kennels outside.’

      ‘No, I mean a small dog, a toy dog.’

      ‘No—nothing of the kind.’

      Poirot permitted her to depart. Then, pressing the bell, he remarked to me, ‘She lies, that Mademoiselle Collins. Possibly I should, also, in her place. Now for the butler.’

      Tredwell was a dignified individual. He told his story with perfect aplomb, and it was essentially the same as that of Mr Waverly. He admitted that he knew the secret of the priest’s hole.

      When he finally withdrew, pontifical to the last, I met Poirot’s quizzical eyes.

      ‘What do you make of it all, Hastings?’

      ‘What do you?’ I parried.

      ‘How cautious you become. Never, never will the grey cells function unless you stimulate them. Ah, but I will not tease you! Let us make our deductions together. What points strike us specially as being difficult?’

      ‘There is one thing that strikes me,’ I said. ‘Why did the man who kidnapped the child go out by the south lodge instead of by the east lodge where no one would see him?’

      ‘That is a very good point, Hastings, an excellent one. I will match it with another. Why warn the Waverlys beforehand? Why not simply kidnap the child and hold him to ransom?’

      ‘Because they hoped to get the money without being forced to action.’

      ‘Surely it was very unlikely that the money would be paid on a mere threat?’

      ‘Also they wanted to focus attention on twelve o’clock, so that when the tramp man was seized, the other could emerge from his hiding-place and get away with the child unnoticed.’

      ‘That does not alter the fact that they were making a thing difficult that was perfectly easy. If they do not specify a time or date, nothing would be easier than to wait their chance, and carry off the child in a motor one day when he is out with his nurse.’

      ‘Ye—es,’ I admitted doubtfully.

      ‘In fact, there is a deliberate playing of the farce! Now let us approach the question from another side. Everything goes to show that there was an accomplice inside the house. Point number one, the mysterious poisoning of Mrs Waverly. Point number two, the letter pinned to the pillow. Point number three, the putting on of the clock ten minutes—all inside jobs. And an additional fact that you may not have noticed. There was no dust in the priest’s hole. It had been swept out with a broom.

      ‘Now then, we have four people in the house. We can exclude the nurse, since she could not have swept out the priest’s hole, though she could have attended to the other three points. Four people, Mr and Mrs Waverly, Tredwell, the butler, and Miss Collins. We will take Miss Collins first. We have nothing much against her, except that we know very little about her, that she is obviously an intelligent young woman, and that she has only been here a year.’

      ‘She lied about the dog, you said,’ I reminded him.

      ‘Ah, yes, the dog.’ Poirot gave a peculiar smile. ‘Now let us pass to Tredwell. There are several suspicious facts against him. For one thing, the tramp declares that it was Tredwell who gave him the parcel in the village.’

      ‘But Tredwell can prove an alibi on that point.’

      ‘Even then, he could have poisoned Mrs Waverly, pinned the note to the pillow, put on the clock, and swept out the priest’s hole. On the other hand, he has been born and bred in the service of the Waverlys. It seems unlikely in the last degree that he should connive at the abduction of the son of the house. It is not in the picture!’

      ‘Well, then?’

      ‘We must proceed logically—however absurd it may seem. We will briefly consider Mrs Waverly. But she is rich, the money is hers. It is her money which has restored this impoverished estate. There would be no reason for her to kidnap her son and pay over her money to herself. The husband, no, is in a different position. He has a rich wife. It is not the same thing as being rich himself—in fact I have a little idea that the lady is not very fond of parting with her money, except on a very good pretext. But Mr Waverly, you can see at once, he is a bon viveur.’

      ‘Impossible,’ I spluttered.

      ‘Not at all. Who sends away the servants? Mr Waverly. He can write the notes, drug his wife, put on the hands of the clock, and establish an excellent alibi for his faithful retainer Tredwell. Tredwell has never liked Mrs Waverly. He is devoted to his master and is willing to obey his orders implicitly. There were three of them in it. Waverly, Tredwell, and some friend of Waverly. That is the mistake the police made, they made no further inquiries about the man who drove the grey car with the wrong child in it. He was the third man. He picks up a child in a village near by, a boy with flaxen curls. He drives in through the east lodge and passes out through the south lodge just at the right moment, waving his hand and shouting. They cannot see his face or the number of the car, so obviously they cannot see the child’s face, either. Then he lays a false trail to London. In the meantime, Tredwell has done his part in arranging for the parcel and note to be delivered by a rough-looking gentleman. His master can provide an alibi in the unlikely case of the man recognizing him, in spite of the false moustache he wore. As for Mr Waverly, as soon as the hullabaloo occurs outside, and the inspector rushes out, he quickly hides the child in the priest’s hole, follows him out. Later in the day, when the inspector is gone and Miss Collins is out of the way, it will be easy enough to drive him off to some safe place in his own car.’

      ‘But what about the dog?’ I asked. ‘And Miss Collins lying?’

      ‘That was my little joke. I asked her if there were any toy dogs in the house, and she said no—but doubtless there are some—in the nursery! You see, Mr Waverly placed some toys in the priest’s hole to keep Johnnie amused and quiet.’

      ‘M. Poirot—’ Mr Waverly entered the room—‘have you discovered anything? Have you any clue to where the boy has been taken?’

      Poirot handed him a piece of paper. ‘Here is the address.’

      ‘But this is a blank sheet.’

      ‘Because I am waiting for you to write it down for me.’

      ‘What the—’ Mr Waverly’s face turned purple.

      ‘I know everything, monsieur. I give

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