Death in the Clouds by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online

floor, of the mark on the deceased's neck and of the medical evidence to show that, incredible or not, it had happened.
    In the absence of further evidence incriminating some particular person, he could only direct the jury to return a verdict of murder against a person or persons unknown. Everyone present had denied any knowledge of the deceased woman. It would be the work of the police to find out how and where a connection lay. In the absence of any motive for the crime, he could only advise the verdict he had just mentioned. The jury would now consider the verdict.
    A square-faced member of the jury with suspicious eyes leaned forward, breathing heavily.
    “Can I ask a question, sir?”
    “You say as how the blowpipe was found down a seat? Whose seat was it?”
    The coroner consulted his notes. Sergeant Wilson stepped to his side and murmured.
    “Ah, yes. The seat in question was No. 9 - a seat occupied by M. Hercule Poirot. M. Poirot, I may say, is a very well-known and respected private detective who has - er - collaborated several times with Scotland Yard.”
    The square-faced man transferred his gaze to the face of M. Hercule Poirot. It rested with a far from satisfied expression on the little Belgian's long mustaches.
    “Foreigners,” said the eyes of the square-faced man - “you can't trust foreigners, not even if they are hand and glove with the police.”
    Out loud he said:
    “It was this Mr Porrott who picked up the dart, wasn't it?”
    “Yes.”
    The jury retired. They returned after five minutes and the foreman handed a piece of paper to the coroner.
    “What's all this?” The coroner frowned. “Nonsense. I can't accept this verdict.”
    A few minutes later the amended verdict was returned: “We find that the deceased came to her death by poison, there being insufficient evidence to show by whom the poison was administered.”

Death in the Clouds

Chapter 5
    As Jane left the court after the verdict, she found Norman Gale beside her.
    He said:
    “I wonder what was on that paper that the coroner wouldn't have at any price.”
    “I can tell you, I think,” said a voice behind him.
    The couple turned, to look into the twinkling eyes of M. Hercule Poirot.
    “It was a verdict,” said the little man, “of willful murder against me.”
    “Oh, surely -” cried Jane.
    Poirot nodded happily.
    “Mais oui. As I came out I heard one man say to the other: 'That little foreigner - mark my words - he done it!' The jury thought the same.”
    Jane was uncertain whether to condole or to laugh. She decided on the latter. Poirot laughed in sympathy.
    “But, see you,” he said, “definitely I must set to work and clear my character.”
    With a smile and a bow, he moved away.
    Jane and Norman stared after his retreating figure.
    “What an extraordinarily rum little beggar,” said Gale. “Calls himself a detective. I don't see how he could do much detecting. Any criminal could spot him a mile off. I don't see how he could disguise himself.”
    “Haven't you got a very old-fashioned idea of detectives?” asked Jane. “All the false-beard stuff is very out of date. Nowadays detectives just sit and think out a case psychologically.”
    “Rather less strenuous.”
    “Physically, perhaps. But of course you need a cool clear brain.”
    “I see. A hot muddled one won't do.”
    They both laughed.
    “Look here,” said Gale. A slight flush rose in his cheeks and he spoke rather fast: “Would you mind - I mean, it would be frightfully nice of you - it's a bit late - but how about having some tea with me? I feel - comrades in misfortune and -”
    He stopped. To himself he said:
    “What is the matter with you, you fool? Can't you ask a girl to have a cup of tea without stammering and blushing and making an utter ass of yourself? What will the girl think of you?”
    Gale's confusion served to accentuate Jane's coolness and self-possession.
    “Thank you very much,” she said. “I would like some tea.”
    They