One, Two, Buckle My Shoe by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online

repeated: “Hi! Hi! You, there!”
    They stopped and looked round inquiringly. The girl walked towards them. The impression of arms and legs remained. She was tall, thin, and her face had an intelligence and aliveness that redeemed its lack of actual beauty. She was dark with a deeply tanned skin.
    She said, addressing Poirot:
    “I know who you are - you're the detective man, Hercule Poirot!” Her voice was warm and deep, with a trace of American accent.
    Poirot said:
    “At your service, Mademoiselle.”
    Her eyes went on to his companion.
    Poirot said:
    “Chief Inspector Japp.”
    Her eyes widened - almost it seemed with alarm.
    She said - and there was a slight breathlessness in her voice:
    “What have you been doing here? Nothing - nothing has happened to Uncle Alistair, has it?”
    Poirot said quickly:
    “Why should you think so, Mademoiselle?”
    “It hasn't? Good.”
    Japp took up Poirot's question.
    “Why should you think anything had happened to Mr. Blunt, Miss -”
    He paused inquiringly.
    The girl said mechanically:
    “Olivera. Jane Olivera.” Then she gave a slight and rather unconvincing laugh. “Sleuths on the doorstep rather suggest bombs in the attic, don't they?”
    “There's nothing wrong with Mr. Blunt, I'm thankful to say, Miss Olivera.”
    She looked directly at Poirot.
    “Did he call you in about something?”
    Japp said:
    “We called on him, Miss Olivera, to see if he could throw any light on a case of suicide that occurred this morning.”
    She said sharply:
    “Suicide? Whose? Where?”
    “A Mr. Morley, a dentist, of 58 Queen Charlotte Street.”
    “Oh!” said Jane Olivera blankly. “Oh! -”
    She stared ahead of her frowning. Then she said unexpectedly:
    “Oh, but that's absurd!”
    And turning on her heel she left them abruptly and without ceremony, running up the steps of the Gothic House and letting herself in with a key.
    “Well!” said Japp, staring after her, “that's an extraordinary thing to say.”
    “Interesting,” observed Poirot mildly.
    Japp pulled himself together, glanced at his watch and hailed an approaching taxi.
    “We'll have time to take the Sainsbury Seale on our way to the Savoy.”
    IX
    Miss Sainsbury Seale was in the dimly lit lounge of the Glengowrie Court Hotel, having tea.
    She was flustered by the appearance of a police officer in plain clothes - but her excitement was of a pleasurable nature, he observed. Poirot noticed, with sorrow, that she had not yet sewn the buckle on her shoe.
    “Really, officer,” fluted Miss Sainsbury Seale, glancing round, “I really don't know where we could go to be private. So difficult - just tea time - but perhaps you would care for some tea - and - and your friend?”
    “Not for me, Madam,” said Japp. “This is M. Hercule Poirot.”
    “Really?” said Miss Sainsbury Seale. “Then perhaps - you're sure - you won't either of you have tea? No? Well, perhaps we might try the drawing-room, though that's very often full. Oh, I see there is a corner over there - in the recess. The people are just leaving. Shall we go there -”
    She led the way to the comparative seclusion of a sofa and two chairs in an alcove. Poirot and Japp followed her, the former picking up a scarf and a handkerchief that Miss Sainsbury Seale had shed en route.
    He restored them to her.
    “Oh, thank you, so careless of me. Now please, Inspector, no, Chief Inspector, isn't it? Do ask me anything you like. So distressing the whole business. Poor man - I suppose he had something on his mind? Such worrying times we live in!”
    “Did it seem to you he was worried, Miss Sainsbury Seale?”
    “Well -” Miss Sainsbury Seale reflected, and finally said unwillingly:
    “I can't really say, you know, that he did! But then perhaps I shouldn't'notice - not under the circumstances. I'm afraid I'm rather a coward, you know.”
    Miss Sainsbury Seale tittered a little and patted her bird's-nestlike curls.
    “Can you tell us who else was in the waiting