Lord Edgeware Dies by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online Page A

did milady say?”
    “Took hysterics - that's what she did. Rolled herself about, threw up her arms and finally flopped down on the ground. Oh! she did it well - I'll say that for her. A pretty bit of acting.”
    “Ah!” said Poirot blandly. “You formed, then, the impression that the hysterics were not genuine?”
    Japp winked vulgarly.
    “What do you think? I'm not to be taken in with those tricks. She hadn't fainted - not she! Just trying it on, she was. I'll swear she was enjoying it.”
    “Yes,” said Poirot thoughtfully. “I should say that was perfectly possible. What next?”
    “Oh! well, she came to - pretended to, I mean. And moaned - and groaned and carried on and that sour-faced maid of hers doped her with smelling salts and at last she recovered enough to ask for her solicitor. Wasn't going to say anything without her solicitor. Hysterics one moment, solicitor the next, now I ask you, is that natural behaviour, sir?”
    “In this case quite natural, I should say,” said Poirot calmly.
    “You mean because she's guilty and knows it.”
    “Not at all, I mean because of her temperament. First she gives you her conception of how the part of a wife suddenly learning of her husband's death should be played. Then, having satisfied her histrionic instinct, her native shrewdness makes her send for a solicitor. That she creates an artificial scene and enjoys it is no proof of her guilt. It merely indicates that she is a born actress.”
    “Well, she can't be innocent. That's sure.”
    “You are very positive,” said Poirot. “I suppose that it must be so. She made no statement, you say? No statement at all?”
    Japp grinned.
    “Wouldn't say a word without her solicitor. The maid telephoned for him. I left two of my men there and came along to you. I thought it just as well to get put wise to whatever there was going on before I went on with things.”
    “And yet you are sure?”
    “Of course I'm sure. But I like as many facts as possible. You see, there's going to be a big splash made about this. No hole and corner business. All the papers will be full of it. And you know what papers are.”
    “Talking of papers,” said Poirot. “How do you account for this, my dear friend. You have not read your morning paper very carefully.”
    He leant across the table, his finger on a paragraph in the society news. Japp read the item aloud.
    Sir Montagu Corner gave a very successful dinner-party last night at his house on the river at Chiswick. Among those present were Sir George and Lady du Fisse, Mr. James Blunt, the well-known dramatic critic, Sir Oscar Hammerfelt of the Overton Film Studios, Miss Jane Wilkinson (Lady Edgware) and others.
    For a moment Japp looked taken aback. Then he rallied.
    “What's that got to do with it? This thing was sent to the Press beforehand. You'll see. You'll find that our lady wasn't there, or that she came in late - eleven o'clock or so. Bless you, sir, you mustn't believe everything you see in the Press to be gospel. You of all people ought to know better than that.”
    “Oh! I do, I do. It only struck me as curious, that was all.”
    “These coincidences do happen. Now, M. Poirot, close as an oyster I know you to be by bitter experience. But you'll come across with things, won't you? You'll tell me why Lord Edgware sent for you?”
    Poirot shook his head.
    “Lord Edgware did not send for me. It was I who requested him to give me an appointment.”
    “Really? And for what reason?”
    Poirot hesitated a minute.
    “I will answer your question,” he said slowly. “But I should like to answer it in my own way.”
    Japp groaned. I felt a sneaking sympathy with him. Poirot can be intensely irritating at times.
    “I will request,” went on Poirot, “that you permit me to ring up a certain person and ask him to come here.”
    “What person?”
    “Mr. Bryan Martin.”
    “The film star? What's he got to do with it?”
    “I think,” said Poirot, “that you may find what he