Chapter 6 Section 6

"If something was lost, why didn't old Mayfield call the police?" Ricky Carrington asked. He pushed the chair back slightly from the dining table. He was the last to arrive.It had been some time since his father, Mrs. McKarter and Sir George had finished breakfast, and his mother and Mrs. Van der Linn had breakfast in bed. Sir George, repeating what he had agreed upon on the telephone with Lord Mayfield and Hercule Poirot, felt that he could have phrased it better. "It's strange to send such a queer foreigner to call me," said Ricky. "What was stolen, Papa?"

"I don't know, kid." Leckey got up, he seemed irritable this morning. "Isn't it—something important? There's nothing—documents or anything like that?" "To tell you the truth, Ricky, I can't tell you." "Keep it secret, right? I get it." Ricky went upstairs, paused mid-stairs with a frown, then went on and knocked on his mother's door, and her voice beckoned him in. Lady Julia was sitting on the bed, scribbling numbers on the back of an envelope. "Good morning, baby." She looked up and said sternly, "Ricky, what's the matter?"

"Nothing serious, but there was a theft last night." "Theft together? What was stolen?" "Oh, no idea, it's top secret, and there's a weird private eye downstairs asking everyone questions." "How unusual!" "It's uncomfortable," Ricky said slowly. "It's happening in someone's house." "What the hell happened?" "I don't know, we were all in bed then. Watch out, Mom, you dropped the tray." He salvaged the breakfast tray and set it on a table by the window. "Is the money lost?"

"I told you I didn't know." Lady Julia said slowly: "You mean the detective asked everybody questions?" "That's right." "Where were they last night? Where were they when this happened?" "Maybe, well, I can't tell him anything. I just went to bed and never got up." Lady Julia made no answer. "I said mother, can't you give me some money? I'm broke." "No." His mother replied resolutely, "I am also very overdrafted. I don't know what your father will say when he hears it." Sir George knocked at the door and entered.

"Ah, there you are, Ricky. Will you go down to the library? Mr. Hercule Poirot wants to see you." Poirot had just concluded an interview with the aggressive Mrs. Macarter. A few brief questions revealed that Mrs. McKarter had gone to bed just after eleven o'clock, and had heard or seen nothing helpful. Poirot easily passed the conversation from the theft to other private matters.He himself had great admiration for Lord Mayfield.As a member of the general public he felt that Lord Mayfield was a truly great man.Of course, Mrs. McKarter, who knew better, would have far better judgment than he.

"Lord Mayfield has brains," admitted Mrs. McKarter, "and he's made his own business entirely. He's inherited no power. Perhaps he lacks a little imagination. That's what I find men sadly alike. They don't have women." The imagination runs wild. A woman, M. Poirot, will be the most important force in government ten years from now." Poirot said he had no doubts. He turned the subject to Mrs. van der Lin.Was it true that he had heard hints that she and Lord Mayfield were very close friends? "Not at all. To tell you the truth, I was surprised to see her here, very surprised indeed."

Poirot asked Mrs. McCarter for her opinion on Mrs. van der Linn, and got it right away. "A totally useless woman. M. Poirot, the kind of woman who makes you disappointed in your sex! A parasite, a complete parasite." "Do men like her?" "Men!" Mrs. McKutta spat the word contemptuously. "Men are always deceived by superficial good looks. This boy, Ricky Carrington, blushes every time she talks to him, He flattered absurdly to get her attention. She flattered him equally foolishly. Complimented his bridge--not very well." "He doesn't play cards well?"

"He did everything wrong last night." "Lady Julia played her cards well, didn't she?" "It's a little too good for me," Mrs. Macarter said. "It's like her career. She plays poker from morning to noon and night." "Is the stake high?" "Yeah, pretty high. Much higher than I'd like to hit. I really don't think it's the right thing to do." "She made a lot of money playing cards, didn't she?" Mrs. McKarter sniffed. "She's counting on that one to pay her debts. But I hear she's been lucky lately. Last night she looked restless. The gambling fiend, M. Poirot, is only a little worse than the drunken fiend. If I could use My way of sweeping the country..."

Poirot was forced to listen to a long lecture on the purification of national morals.Then he neatly closed the conversation and brought in Ricky Carrington. When the young man entered the room, Poirot had already formed a judgment of him: a weak mouth concealed by a rather attractive smile, a non-determined chin, distant eyes, a somewhat narrow head.He thought he was familiar with the Ricky Carrington type. "Ricky Carrington?" "Yes, what can I do for you?" "Just tell me what happened to you last night." "Oh, let me see, we played bridge - in the living room, and then I went to bed."

"When was that?" "Just after eleven o'clock. I suppose the theft happened after that?" "Yes, after that. Didn't you hear or see anything?" "I'm afraid not. I went straight to bed. I slept fairly soundly." "You went straight from the living room to the bedroom and stayed there until morning?" "good." "strangeness." Ricky asked sharply: "What do you mean, strange?" "Did you not, say, hear a scream?" "No, I didn't hear that." "Ah, very strange." "Listen, I don't know what you mean."

"You may be slightly deaf." "of course not." Poirot's lips moved, and he probably said "strange" for the third time.Then he said: "Well, thank you, Mr. Carrington, it's all right." Ricky got up and stood hesitantly. "You know," he said, "now that you've reminded me, I believe I've heard something." "Ah, what did you hear?" "Yes, but you know I was reading a book—a detective novel, actually—and I—well, I wasn't really listening." "Ah," said Poirot, "a most satisfactory answer." There was no expression on his face. Ricky still hesitated, then he turned and walked slowly towards the door.He stopped at the door and asked: "I said, what was stolen?" "A thing of great value, Mr. Carrington, and that's all I can say." "Oh." Ricky said blankly. He went out. Poirot nodded. "It fits," he murmured, "it fits very well." He rang the bell and asked politely if Mrs. van der Linn was up.