Black Coffee by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online Page B

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?”
    “Oh, of course. I'm sorry,” said Richard, turning towards Sir Claud. “Father, would you please tell Monsieur Poirot that we no longer have any need of his services?”
    Sir Claud did not answer.
    “Father!” Richard exclaimed, moving quickly to Sir Claud's arm-chair. He bent over his father, and then turned around wildly. “Dr Carelli,” he called.
    Miss Amory rose, white-faced. Carelli swiftly crossed to Sir Claud and felt his pulse. Frowning, he placed his hand over Sir Claud's heart, and then shook his head.
    Poirot moved slowly to the arm-chair and stood looking down at the motionless body of the scientist. “Yes - I fear -” he murmured, as though to himself, “I very much fear -”
    “What do you fear?” asked Barbara, moving towards him.
    Poirot looked at her. “I fear that Sir Claud has sent for me too late, mademoiselle.”
    Consternation followed Hercule Poirot's statement. Dr Carelli continued his examination of Sir Claud for a few moments before straightening himself and turning to the others. Addressing Richard Amory, “I am afraid your father is dead,” he confirmed.
    Richard stared at him in disbelief, as though he were unable to take the Italian doctor's words in. Then, “My God - what was it? Heart failure?” he asked.
    “I - I suppose so,” replied Carelli somewhat doubtfully.
    Barbara moved to her aunt to comfort her, for Miss Amory seemed about to faint. Edward Raynor joined them, helping to support Miss Amory, and whispering to Barbara as he did so, “I suppose that fellow is a real doctor?”
    “Yes, but only an Italian one,” Barbara murmured in reply, as between them they settled Miss Amory into a chair. Overhearing Barbara's remark, Poirot shook his head energetically. Then, stroking his luxuriant moustache with exquisite care, he smiled as he commented softly, “Me, I am a detective - but only a Belgian one. Nevertheless, madame, we foreigners do arrive at the correct answer occasionally.”
    Barbara had the grace to look at least a trifle embarrassed. She and Raynor remained in conversation for a few moments, but then Lucia approached Poirot, taking his arm and drawing him aside from the others.
    “Monsieur Poirot,” she urged him breathlessly, “you must stay! You must not let them send you away.”
    Poirot regarded her steadily. His face remained quite impassive as he asked her, “Is it that you wish me to stay, madame?”
    “Yes, yes,” replied Lucia, glancing anxiously towards the body of Sir Claud, still seated in its upright position in the arm-chair. “There's something wrong about all this. My father-in-law's heart was perfectly all right. Perfectly, I tell you. Please, Monsieur Poirot, you must find out what has happened.”
    Dr Carelli and Richard Amory continued to hover near the body of Sir Claud. Richard, in an agony of indecision, appeared to be almost petrified into immobility. “I would suggest, Mr Amory,” Dr Carelli urged