Chapter 3 The adventure of renting a house at a low price

So far, in the cases I have described, Poirot's investigations have always started from the most important facts, whether it is a murder or a robbery, and then after a series of logical reasoning, they have finally reached a conclusion.Set the facts straight and win.In the case which I now present, I shall proceed in chronological order, beginning with the apparently insignificant series of events which first brought Poirot to the attention of the comet, and then concluding with a most extraordinary fact, case investigation. One evening I was with my old friend, Gerald Parker, maybe five or six other people besides the two of us.As soon as the subject of finding a house in London came up, Parker became eloquent, always like this.Parker has a soft spot for houses and suites, since the end of the war.He owned at least six different suites and detached residences.no matter where.He set about looking for a new house right away, and his inspiration was almost always rewarded with some money because he had a good business sense, but the house hunting motivated him purely as a hobby, not just. It is to make money.We listened to Parker like a student listening to an expert lecture and he talked for a long time.Then, when it was our turn to speak, there was a lot of chatter, and finally Mrs. Robinson became the chief speaker.Mrs. Robinson, a charming bride, was present with her husband.I'd never seen them before, because Robinson was just Parker's newest friend.

"When it comes to renting," he said, "you know how lucky we are, Mr. Parker? We've got a house at last! And it's in the Montague Apartments." "Sniff," said Parker, "I always say there's plenty of room--if you're willing to pay!" "Yes. But our house doesn't cost much. It's quite cheap. Eighty pounds a year!" "But—but Montague Flats is right next to Knights Bridge, isn't it? It's a big, nice block of flats. Or you're talking about the same-named block, somewhere in the poor neighbourhood. house?"

"No, I'm talking about the building next to 'Knights' Bridge, and that's why it's done so well." "Absolutely awesome! It's just amazing. But there must be a trap here, I want to pay a lot of insurance money?" "No need to pay any insurance premium!" "Never mind the premium—oh, my head's going to split!" Parker groaned in pain. "We'll have to buy our own furniture, though," continued Mrs. Robinson. "Ah!" Parker became happy again, "I knew there must be a trap!" "The furniture only cost fifty pounds, and all the facilities in the room are available. It is quite beautiful!"

“I’m at a loss for words,” Parker said. “There must be some residents who are really stupid and like to do charity.” Robinson looked a little embarrassed, and a small wrinkle appeared between her beautiful brows. "It's weird, isn't it? Don't you think—that—the place is haunted?" "I've never heard of an apartment being haunted," Parker replied emphatically. "Well—no." Mrs. Robinson still seemed unconvinced, "but there have been a few incidents in that house that strike me as—pretty strange." "Like—" I suggested, interjecting.

"Ah," said Parker, "our detective is interested! Tell him all that has happened to you, Mrs. Robinson. Hastings is great at solving crimes." I laughed, a little embarrassed.However, I am not very unhappy about the evaluation and title he gave me. "Well, it's not necessarily that weird really. Captain Hastings, though, when we went to see agents Stosur and Paul - we hadn't seen them before because they only had expensive suites , but, we thought, there was no harm anyway—they offered us rooms for rent of between four hundred and five hundred pounds a year, or a large insurance premium. Later, when we As they turned to leave, they mentioned an eighty-pound house of theirs, but he doubted it would be of any use if we went there to see it, because it had been registered with them for a long time, and they sent a lot of people away I've been there, and every time it's almost certain that people will be eager to rent it - that's what the agent said - it's just that people always hate it when they don't know about it in the first place, and then they When I sent people to see it again, they got angry and even sent them to see a house that their ancestors haven’t seen for a long time.”

Mrs. Robinson paused for a quick breath, and then went on: "We thanked him and told him that we could understand that it might not be good to see, but that we were willing to go anyway. So we went straight there by taxi. Room 4 was on the second floor, at While we were waiting for the elevator, a friend of mine—who was also looking at a house—was hurrying out of the elevator. 'One step ahead of you, my dear', she said, "However, it's useless to look at it, the house has already been rented out." The matter seems to be over like this, but - as John said, this house is very cheap, we can offer a higher price, And if we offered to think about another insurance premium, maybe we'd have a chance. Of course it's a hard thing to do, and I'm ashamed to tell you that, but you know how hard it is to find a house. "

I assured her that I was well aware of the fierce competition and struggle in the house hunt, in which the lower side of human nature usually prevailed over the higher side, and that the proverbial dog-eat-dog rule always worked. "That's it, we went upstairs. You may not believe it, the house was never taken out. A servant showed us every room. Later, we met the hostess, and things were settled right then and there. Yes. We can have the right of residence at that time, and then we can buy furniture for fifty pounds. The next day, we signed the agreement, and tomorrow, we will move in." Mrs. Robinson said in the tone of a winner. Ended her renting experience.

"What about that friend of Mrs. Robinson's?" asked Parker. "Please reason, Hastings." "It is quite evident, my dear sir," I replied easily, "that she must have come into the wrong room." "Oh, Captain Hastings, how clever you are!" exclaimed Mrs. Robinson respectfully. I wished Poirot had been there at this moment, I always feel sometimes that he underestimated my abilities. The whole thing is quite interesting.Next morning I told Poirot it as a joke.He seemed interested and asked me some fairly careful questions about the rent prices of apartments in different areas.

"It's a strange thing," he said thoughtfully. "Excuse me, Hastings, but I must go for a walk." About an hour later, he came back.His eyes shone with strange excitement, and he put his stick on the table, and wiped his hat carefully, as he always did before he spoke. "My dear friend, it just so happens that we now have a few things in our hands that we can begin the present investigation with all our might" "What investigation are you talking about?" "Your friend, Mrs. Robinson's newly rented apartment at a surprisingly cheap price"

"Poirot, you are not serious!" "I'm very serious. Come to think of it, my friend, the real rent for an apartment of that sort is three hundred and fifty pounds. I've just confirmed it from the estate agent. However, this particular flat The house is rented for eighty pounds! Why?" "There must be something wrong with it. Perhaps, as Mrs. Robinson says, the house is haunted." Poirot shook his head dissatisfied. "Then, the next question is why her friend strangely told her that the house was rented out, and when she went up to see it, it wasn't the case at all!"

"However, you will certainly agree with me that the woman must have come into the wrong room. That is the only possible conclusion." "You may or may not be right on this point, Hastings. The fact remains that many other renters have looked at the house, and yet, despite its amazing cheapness, when Robinson When my wife went to see it, the house was still not rented out." "That means there must be something wrong with that house." "Mrs. Robinson doesn't seem to notice anything amiss. That's very odd. Does she strike you as a woman of trustworthy speech, Hastings?" "She's a delight!" "It is quite obvious that your explanation does not adequately answer my question because of the impression she has made on you. Now, please tell me what kind of person she is." "Well, she's tall and pretty, with a lovely auburn hair." "You always have a particular preference for auburn hair!" muttered Poirot. "But go on." "Blue eyes, very good temperament, and—well, I think that's all I got." I ended my description lamely. "Where's her husband?" "Hey, he's a pretty nice guy—nothing special." "Is the skin white or black?" "I don't remember exactly—probably neither too white nor too dark, just a normal face." Poirot nodded. "Yes, there are thousands of such ordinary people—you always have more sympathy and appreciation for women anyway. Do you know anything about them? Is Parker familiar with them?" "They were only recently acquainted, too, I think so. But, Poirot, to be honest, you wouldn't think—" Poirot raised his hand. "Take it easy, my friend, and shall I tell you what I think? All I say is--the matter is strange, and there are no facts to help clear doubts; perhaps, The woman's name will help us; what's her name, Hastings?" "Her name is Stella," I said stiffly, "but I don't understand..." Poirot interrupted me with a series of giggles, the name seemed to him to be very amusing. "Stella means star, doesn't it? Very famous!" "But what exactly...?" "The stars will shine! Come on! Calm down, Hastings, don't act like your pride is offended, please come with me, we're going to Montague Apartments to do some research" I'd love to go with him.The apartment building was a group of beautifully built buildings. A uniformed janitor was basking in the sun in front of the door. Poirot went up to question him. "Excuse me, but can you tell me if there is a couple named Robinsons living here?" The janitor was a man of few words, with obvious doubts on his face, he almost didn't even look at us, just said in passing: "It's at No. 4 on the second floor." "Thank you. Could you tell me how long they've been living here?" "Six months." Startled, I took a step forward and saw Poirot grinning mockingly at me. "That's impossible," I cried, "you must be mistaken" "Six months." "Are you sure? The woman I'm talking about is tall and pretty, with reddish blond hair, and—" "That's her," said the janitor. "They moved here from Michaelmas six months ago." He had visibly lost interest in our conversation, and walked slowly back into the hall, and I followed Poirot out. "Well, Hastings?" my friend asked me slyly, "now you're sure that pleasant woman is telling the truth?" I did not answer. Before I could ask him what he was doing and where he was going, he led me up Brompton Avenue. "Go to the realtors, Hastings. I'd very much like to own a house at Montague Flats, and if I'm not mistaken, some interesting things are going to happen there before long." We were very lucky on our trip. There was a rented house at No. 8 on the fourth floor. Zukin paid ten guineas a week, and Poirot paid a month's rent right away.When we were in the street again, Poirot would not allow me to defend myself: "I earn my own money and spend it now! Why shouldn't I satisfy my whim when...? By the way, Hastings, do you have a revolver?" "Yes—but," I replied, feeling a little creepy. "Do you think--" "You think I'm going to need it? Quite likely. The idea pleases you, I can see. Enchanting situations and romantic stories always have an attraction for you." The next day we settled down in our makeshift home, which was beautifully furnished and occupied exactly the same place in the building as the Robinsons' room, only two stories higher. The second day we moved in was a Sunday.In the afternoon Poirot opened the front door a crack, and when he heard the echo of something bumping somewhere downstairs, Poirot called me hastily. "Look over the banister, is that your friend? Don't let them see you." I craned my neck to look down the stairs. "It's them," I replied hastily. "Okay, wait a little longer." About half an hour later, a young woman appeared in a gorgeous dress.Poirot breathed a sigh of satisfaction and tiptoed back into the room. "That's right, after the master and hostess go out, it's the maid who goes out again. Now, that suite should be empty." "What are we going to do?" I asked uncomfortably. Poirot hurried to the kitchen and took hold of the coal-rope with his hands. "We're going down the garbage dump," he explained excitedly. "Nobody's going to see us. Sunday's concert, Sunday, afternoon outings, and finally a siesta after lunch—a little nap— —all of which would distract Hercule Poirot from what he was doing. Come, my friend." He stepped into the rough wooden dumpster, and I cautiously followed him down. "Are we going to break in?" I asked suspiciously. Poirot's answer was not too precise: "Not necessarily today," he replied. We slowly slid down that rope until we reached the second floor.Poirot gave an exclamation of satisfaction when he saw that the wooden door to the kitchen was open. "Did you notice? They never bolt those bars during the day, and anyone can climb in and out like we do. At night, yes—though not always—it's the other way around, and we're going to Prepare in advance." As he spoke, he took out a few tools from his pocket, and immediately began to work deftly.His purpose was to modify the latch so that it could be pulled from the outside.It only took about three minutes of his time.Then Poirot pocketed the tools again, and we were back in our own rooms. Poirot was out all day on Monday.However, when he came back in the evening, he sank back into his chair, looking very content. "Hastings, will I tell you a little story? It's just to your liking. It will remind you of your favorite movie." "Please tell me," I replied with a smile, "I guess it's a true story and not something you made up." "It does, and Inspector Japp of the Metropolitan Police will vouch for its veracity, for the story came to me from his men. Listen, Hastings. About six Months ago some important naval plans were stolen from a branch of the United States government, showing the exact location of some of the most important seaport defenses, worth a fortune to any foreign government— For example, for the Japanese government. The suspect is a young man named Luci Verdano, of Italian descent. He held an insignificant position in that department of the US government. He disappeared at the same time as the intelligence. No matter Is Luci Verdano the one who stole the intelligence? Two days later, in the East Side of New York, the police found him; Nor was once with a woman named Elsa Hart, a young music-hall singer who was new to showbiz and who lived in an apartment in Washington. Nothing is known about Miss Tate, who disappeared suddenly around the time of Vildarno's death. There is reason to believe that she was an accomplished and genuine international spy who, under various aliases, did many Secret work. US intelligence services are doing their best to find her whereabouts, but also pay close attention to some Japanese people living in Washington. They believe that after Elsa Hart has completely covered up the clues she left behind, she will approach Those Japanese under suspicion. One of them left America suddenly for England a fortnight ago, and it seems probable that Elsa Hart is now also in England." Poirot paused, then went on The tone softened and said, "The official description of Elsa Hart is: five feet seven inches tall, blue eyes, auburn hair, fair skin, good looks, high straight nose, no other obvious characteristics" "That's Mrs. Robinson!" I exclaimed. "Well, anyway, there is such a possibility." Poirot changed his tone, "Also, I also learned that a dark-skinned man, who looks like a foreigner, was asking where to live just this morning. The situation with the people in room four. So, my friend, I'm afraid you'll have to give up your lovely sleep tonight, and join me in watching the house downstairs all night - don't forget your well-crafted revolver!" "Of course," I exclaimed excitedly, "when do we start?" "At midnight, it's both solemn and well timed. In my opinion, nothing happens before midnight." At exactly twelve o'clock at midnight, we carefully climbed into the coal tunnel and went down to the second floor.At Poirot's fiddle, the wooden door was quickly opened from the inside, and we jumped into the room, through the kitchen, and into the dining room.There, the two of us were comfortably seated in two chairs, and the door to the living room was opened a crack. "Now, we just have to sit down and wait." Satisfied, Poirot said, closing his eyes. For me, the wait seemed like an eternity, and I was terrified of falling asleep.It seemed to me that eight hours had passed... Later, I found that exactly one hour and twenty minutes had passed... A slight grinding sound reached my ears.Poirot patted my hand, I stood up, and we both moved cautiously towards the living room, where the sound came from the door.Poirot put his lips to my ear and said: "The sound is just outside the front door, and they're trying to pick the lock. Wait for my order, be careful not to act early, and when I give the order, throw the person from behind and hold him tight) to Watch out, he's got a knife." There was a click, a small circle of light shone through the keyhole into the room, it went out immediately, and the door was slowly opened; Poirot and I pressed our bodies against the wall. .I could hear a man breathing as he walked past us, and then he turned on his flashlight.As soon as he moved, Poirot whispered in my ear: "Go." We both jumped on it together, Poirot quickly covered the man's head with a thin woolen scarf, I tied his arms behind his back, and the whole thing was done quickly and quietly.I snatched a dagger out of his hand, and Poirot drew the scarf down over his eyes, still covering his mouth, I flashed my revolver so that he could see clearly and Know that resistance is useless.When he ceased struggling, Poirot brought his mouth close to his ear and began to whisper something quickly in his ear, and the man nodded.Then Poirot, gesturing us all to be silent, led the way, out of the room, and down the stairs.Our prisoner followed Poirot, and I was last, revolver in hand.When we were in the street, Poirot turned to me and said: "There's a taxi around the corner; give me the revolver, we don't need it now." "But what if this guy wants to escape?" Poirot smiled. "He won't." After a while, I called the waiting taxi over.The scarf had been removed from the stranger's face, and I was startled at the sight of his face. "He's not a Japanese," I whispered to Poirot. "You've always had good observation, Hastings! Nothing escapes you. Yes, this man is not a Japanese, he is an Italian." We got into a taxi and Poirot gave an address to the driver.Until now, I have been in a fog and confused.I was ashamed to ask Poirot where we were going in the presence of our captives, and I tried to make sense of what had just happened, but to no avail. We alighted in front of a small house on the side of the road, and a pedestrian, somewhat drunk, staggered down the pavement and almost ran into Poirot, who scolded I didn't hear what he said in detail.The three of us walked up the steps of the house together.Poirot rang the bell and motioned for us to stand to one side of the door.When no one came to the door, he rang the bell again, and then slammed on the knocker for a few minutes. A light suddenly appeared in the skylight of the house, and the door was carefully opened a crack. "What on earth are you trying to do?" a man's voice asked roughly. "I want to see the doctor, my wife is ill." "There is no doctor here" The man was about to close the door, but Poirot shrewdly inserted his foot in it, and suddenly he was transformed into a fiery Frenchman, whose expression and accent were perfectly lifelike. "What are you talking about, there is no doctor here? I want to sue you, you have to come out! I'm going to stand here and ring the doorbell and knocker, and make him sleep all night." "My venerable sir—" The door opened again, and the man, in a pajamas and slippers, stepped forward to calm Poirot, and at the same time glanced around with uneasy eyes. "I'm going to call the police" Poirot was about to go down the steps. "No, for God's sake, don't do that!" The man staggered after him. A deft push by Poirot sent him down the steps.After a while, all three of us entered the door, which was closed and locked again. "Quick—go in." Poirot led the way into the nearest room, turning on the light as he went. "You're hiding behind the curtain." "Yes, sir," said the Italian, and slipped quickly behind the thick red velvet curtains that shut the windows tightly. In a blink of an eye, at the moment he had just hid, a woman rushed into the room.She was tall, with light red hair and a slender body wearing a crimson kimono. "Where is my husband?" she called, and she gave us a quick terrified look. "Who are you?" Poirot bowed slightly, stepped forward and said: "There is reason to hope that your husband will not catch a cold. I noticed that he had slippers on his feet, and that his pajamas were very warm." "Who are you? What are you doing in my house?" "To tell you the truth, none of us had the honor of meeting you, ma'am, and it's a pity that one of our members has come all the way from New York just to see you." The curtains were parted and the Italian came out.What frightened me was that he was brandishing my revolver, which Poirot must have picked up when he dropped it inadvertently in the taxi. The woman screamed and turned to run away" but Poirot was already standing in front of the closed door. "Let me go," she said tremblingly. "He's going to kill me." "Who's the executor of that dead Luci Verdano?" the Italian asked hoarsely, waving the pistol and pointing it at each of us.We did not dare to move. "My God, Poirot, this is terrible. What are we going to do?" I cried. "You will listen to me again, and don't say so much, Hastings. I can assure you that our friend will not shoot without my order." "Are you that sure, eh?" said the Italian, casting a deliberate glance at us. This was much more serious than I had imagined, and the woman turned like lightning to Poirot and said: "what do you want?" Poirot bowed slightly and said: "I don't think it necessary to underestimate the intelligence of Miss Elsa Hart. It would be an insult to her intelligence if I were to tell her what I want." The woman quickly grabbed a large black velvet cat's head, which was used to cover the telephone. "They're sewn right in there." "Very clever," whispered Poirot appreciatively.He took a step away from the door, "Good night, ma'am. If you try to escape, I will stop your friend from New York for you." "Fool!" growled the big Italian, raised his pistol, and just as I was about to jump on him, he fired at the fleeing figure of the woman.However, the pistol only clicked once and did not hurt anyone.Poirot reproached softly: "Never trust your old friend, Hastings. I would never approve of my friend carrying a loaded gun, nor would I allow a man I just met to use mine. No, I Absolutely not, my dear friend." The latter was addressed to the Italian, who cursed roughly.Poirot continued addressing him in a slightly reproachful tone: "Now, you understand what I have done for you. I saved your life from being hanged. Don't think that our pretty mistress Will get away, no, she won't. Isn't it a comfort that the house is under close watch all the way, and she's going to run all the way to the police? Well, now, You may leave the room now, but be careful—very careful. I—oh, he's gone! My friend Hastings looks at me reproachfully. But it's all so Simple! It was very clear from the outset that perhaps out of hundreds of people applying to rent Montague Flats 4, only Mr. and Mrs. Robinson were considered the most suitable candidates. Why? Why singled out They and no one else—a discerning eye would have known it was a deceit. Is it their looks? Possibly, but that's not particularly suspicious; then it must be their names." "But there's nothing unusual about the name Robinson!" I exclaimed. "It's a very common name." "Well, it's a coincidence! That's the point. Elsa Hart and her husband, or her brother, or whoever it was, they came here from New York, under the pseudonym The Robinsons rented a house. Suddenly, they learned that there was a secret organization, and there was no doubt that Luci Verdano was in the service of this organization, and they were tracking them. What should they do? They thought It was a ruse. Obviously they knew that the people who were following them didn't know either of them well, so what was the easiest thing to do? They gave up the apartment for a ridiculously low rent. Among the thousands of young couples looking to rent in London, it's not hard to find a few Robinsons. It's just a matter of timing. If you look at the name Robinsons in the phone book, You just know that sooner or later, there's going to be a Mrs. Robinson with...beautiful hair who needs to rent. So what's going to happen next? The vengeance hunter will arrive and he'll be able to The address was found. He broke into the room and made a surprise attack! It's all over, the vengeance is very satisfying, and Miss Elsa Hart has escaped again. By the way, you must refer me to the man The real Mrs. Robinson - that delightful, believable woman! What would they think if they found out their room had been broken into? We must leave as soon as possible. Ah, it sounded like that Jia There was a loud knocking on the knocker as P and his friends were coming back. "How do you know the address?" I asked as I followed Poirot to the front door, and the answer came to me immediately, "Oh, of course, when the first Mrs. Robinson left the set You followed her when she was in the apartment." "No time, Hastings, you've used your wit at last. Now, let's scare Japp a little." Gently pulling the latch open, he stuck the cat's head made of velvet out of the door and shook it, and suddenly let out a scream: "Meow!" The Metropolitan Police Inspector, who was standing at the door with another man, could not help being startled at the sound. "Oh, it's just a little joke of M. Poirot's!" said the inspector, as Poirot's head poked out from behind the head of the velvet cat. "Let us go in, sir. " "You have kept our friend safe and sound?" "Yes, we caught the bird, but there is no food in the bird's beak." "I understand, so come in and search. Well, I'm leaving with Hastings. But I'd like to tell you something about this house cat and its habits." "For God's sake, are you really crazy?" "The cat," said Poirot, "was once a fetish of the ancient Egyptians. Even now it is considered a sign of good luck if a black cat passes your door. Tonight, This cat just passed your door, Japp. It is inappropriate to ask, talk about any animal or human guts. I know that avoiding talking about people and: animal guts is considered a As a courtesy, however, this cat's internal organs are quite delicate. I mean the stitching of this cat's side." With a sudden exclamation another man snatched the cat from Poirot's grasp. "Oh, I forgot to introduce you," said Japp. "Mr. Poirot, this is Mr. Bout of the SIS." The American's trained fingers touched what he had been looking for, and he stretched out his hand, and for a moment he was speechless in astonishment.Later, he returned to normal. "It's a pleasure to meet you!" said Mr. Boot.