Chapter 21 Chapter 21 On the Tennis Court

A few days passed quickly.One morning, Madame Caterina returned from a walk alone.When she returned to the living room, Reynolds greeted her with a smile and a smile. "Your lovely person called you, Caterina." "Who are you referring to?" "It's a new one - Rufus von Alding's secretary. It looks like you've impressed the man. Caterina, it looks like you're going to become a The female Casanova. First Derek Kettering and now young Knighton. The most interesting thing is that I can still remember the time. At that time He was in a war hospital run by my mother."

"Is he badly hurt?" "He got a bullet in the leg and the doctors didn't treat him well. He's still walking with a little limp." Ms. Templin appeared before them both. "Did you tell Caterina about Major Knighton?" she asked. "He is such a lovely boy! I didn't recognize him at first... There were so many wounded and sick, but now, the scene of that time is reappearing before my eyes." "He was a compelling figure then," Reynolds said. "Now that he's a secretary to a millionaire in America, it's more interesting to remember him."

"But, my darling!" said Miss Templin, mildly but slightly crossly. "Why did Major Knighton call?" Katerina asked in a tentative tone. "He asked if you were going to play tennis this afternoon. If you were interested, he would pick you up in his car. Mother and I accepted his invitation with great pleasure, of course, on your behalf." "I would very much like to get acquainted with Mr. von Alding," said Miss Templin seriously. "This powerful and ruthless figure in the West..." She paused for a moment, "How attractive!" "Major Knighton repeatedly emphasized on the phone that this invitation is in the name of Mr. von Alding." Reynolds said, "This only aggravated my suspicion. You and Knighton are a natural match. I congratulate You, dear."

Caterina smiled and went upstairs to change. "I'm very glad you accepted," Knighton said to Caterina as she sat next to the major in the car that afternoon. "M. Poirot is playing tennis too. What an interesting fellow he is! Have you known him long, Miss Grey?" Caterina shook her head. "I just met him on the train on the way here." "This man has a special genius. He is very good at analyzing the essence of things, but he does not reveal his true views on things lightly. I remember that once I was a guest at a manor in York State. It was Ms. Carwan's. When the jewelry was stolen. It looked exactly like a normal theft, but the local police couldn't do anything. I suggested they call Poirot, and said that was the only person who could help them. But this The police only believed in Yard in Scotland at the time."

"What happened next?" "The jewelry is still missing," Knighton said dryly. "You really trust him?" "Of course. Count Roger is a dandy. He has gotten out of trouble time and time again, but this time he fell into the hands of Hercule Poirot, which is really a deadly enemy." "Count Roger?" Caterina said while thinking, "You also think he is the murderer?" "Of course!" Knighton looked at her in surprise, "Don't you think so?" "Me too, but he's not here." A cheerful and lively smile crept across Knighton's face.

"Miss Grey, you have told me that you are particularly fond of detective novels. Then you should understand that 'absence' means nothing." "Do you think it's the same in real life?" Caterina asked with a smile. "Why not? In any case, if I were the murderer, I would never let Hercule Poirot catch him." "I would do the same if I were a murderer." Caterina replied happily. Poirot awaited their arrival on the tennis court.Because of the heat, he wore only a linen shirt, with a camellia on his bosom. "Good day, madam!" said Poirot, "look at me like a real Englishman."

"A frivolous Englishman with a French touch, so to speak." "You're making fun of me," murmured Poirot in a good mood, "but it doesn't matter. Mr. Poirot is always the one who laughs last. He who laughs last laughs the most." it is good." "Where is Mr. von Alding?" Knighton asked. "He's waiting for us in the stands. To be honest, he's not very happy with me. Alas, these Americans never know what is quiet and what is toil! Anyone who is suspected is criminalized. But that's not okay. In this business, one needs not strength, but cunning. Oh, you see, here comes Mr. Kettering."

Derek suddenly appeared beside them.Outwardly, he appeared to be in a trance and restless.Knighton exchanged a few cool words with him. They went up to the stands.Knighton spotted the owner waving to him from the other end of the stand, and he immediately walked over. "I like this young man very much." Poirot said to Catelli, looking at the secretary with a smile. "Do you think so, Miss Grey?" "I think so too. He's lovely. Besides, he's an admirer of your great cause, Monsieur Poirot." The little old man showed an affected modesty, standing at attention with his legs up and his head on his chest. A droop.This appearance of artificiality makes people see it as false at a glance.

"Besides, Miss Grey," said Poirot, changing the subject suddenly, "I would like to talk to you about a little matter. Did you ever lose a cigarette case while you were talking to that poor lady?" Poirot drew from his pocket a blue leather cigarette case with a golden letter "K" embedded in it. "No, it's not mine," she replied. "I beg your pardon! The cigarette case, then, might have belonged to the poor lady herself. The letter "K" could, of course, have been an abbreviation of "Katelyn." There was a cigarette case in her pocket. We wondered how she could have both." He turned abruptly to Derek again.

"Could it be your cigarette case?" "No! If it's mine, it's very unlikely to be found with my wife." At this time, Poirot appears particularly naive and childish. "I wonder if you happened to get lost in your lady's box on your way to it," explained Poirot casually. "I have not been in my wife's box. I have declared it to the police a thousand times." "I express my deep apologies to you," said Poirot respectfully. "Miss Grey," he turned again to Caterina, "said that she had seen you go into your lady's box."

He looked a little embarrassed.Caterina stared at Derek.Had Derek really gone that pale, or was it an illusion?Derek laughed, but it sounded unreal. "You are mistaken, Miss Grey," he said easily. "I only found out after the fact that my box was next to my wife's. You may have seen me go into my box." Coming towards them. "I'm leaving you now. Because my father-in-law is getting on my nerves." Von Alding greeted Caterina politely.It appears the millionaire is in a bad mood. "It's a big joke to invite you to watch tennis, isn't it, M. Poirot?" he murmured. "It actually gives me great pleasure," replied Poirot. "There are weirdos all over Europe. Here it is: get down to business and have fun later." Poirot did not feel mocked by this remark.Still gentle and sincere, he looked at the millionaire with a smile on his face. "Everyone has his own unique code of conduct. I always think that the combination of entertainment and work is the best code." Caterina and Knighton are caught in a passionate secret conversation.Poirot raised his voice and said: "It's true that I didn't come here just to enjoy myself. Do you see that old man across the way? The one with the sallow complexion and the respectable beard?" "how is he?" "He is Papopolus, a well-known antique dealer in the world today. His part-time job: the largest hoarder of stolen goods in Europe. His hobby: gemstones. Among the partners who trade with him, there are crowned leaders , there are also horrific criminals. I ask myself a question now, to Hercule Poirot, I ask myself," he thumped his chest theatrically. "Why did Papopolus come to Niza at this very moment?" A few minutes before, von Alden had thought that Poirot was nothing but a megalomaniac, a self-proclaimer.But in an instant, he regained the trust he had in the little old man when they first met. "Listen, Mr. von Alding, I have some news for you." The millionaire watched Poirot's face with nervous curiosity. "As you know, our people have been watching the count since the first interrogation. We conducted a search at his Villa Maria the day after the interrogation." "Have you found anything?" asked von Alding. "Nothing, of course." Poirot bowed slightly. "Your instinct confirms your opinion, Herr von Alding. We did not get anything of value there. Of course, this is very frustrating. Count Roger is not a man of one day. " "What else?" Von Alden asked in a low voice. "Of course, it is quite reasonable to find nothing of value in the Count's lodgings. Even if he hid something, where would it be? In his own house, never, he He will know that the police are not free. It is impossible to hide on his body; because he realizes that he may be arrested at any time. There is only one possibility left, which is to hide in his car. Then He was followed all the way to Monte Carlo and Mentor one day. He had a powerful motor in that little car. He lost the follower for almost a quarter of an hour." "Then do you think he's been hiding something at the curb during this quarter of an hour?" the millionaire asked with great interest. "On the curb? Not really. I think he's very cunning. Didn't it ever occur to you that the best way to get yourself out of trouble was to leave things in the post office?" "So what?" "Here it is!" Poirot pulled out a blue package from his pocket with great agility. "During these fifteen minutes, this able man has gained the upper hand and deposited the things with me." "Where is the address written?" asked Von Alding immediately. "The address on the package is a newspaper in Paris. If you send things to this newspaper, you can sometimes pay a certain amount of money to pick up the things you send out." "What's in the package?" asked von Arden eagerly. Poirot peeled off the outer layer, pointed to the small cardboard box inside, and looked around. "This moment is amusing," said he. "Look, sir." He opened the lid of the little box, and the millionaire let out a cry, and his face immediately turned pale. "My God!" he cried, "Gems!" The millionaire sat there blankly for a long time, Poirot put the box back into his pocket with a bright smile on his face. Suddenly, the millionaire woke up from his trance.He bent over Poirot and squeezed the detective's hand so tightly that Poirot almost cried out in pain. "It's unbelievable!" said von Alding. "Unbelievable! You are a magician, Poirot." "What are you talking about," the little old man said modestly. "It's a way of thinking, a little bit of logic, a little bit of foresight, and there's nothing else to boast about." "Did Count Roger not be arrested?" the millionaire asked curiously. "No," replied Poirot. A look of surprise appeared on Von Alden's face. "Then what are you waiting for?" "The earl's absence is an unshakable argument." "Meaningless!" "It's meaningless, of course," said Poirot, "but we should show the facts that it makes no sense." "But when we were looking for evidence in this regard, he slipped through our fingers." Poirot shook his head firmly. "No," he said. "He doesn't think so. The count will never take his social position as a trifle. He will continue to act recklessly in his original position." Von Alden was a little incredulous. "I can't see..." Poirot touched his mouth. "Wait a minute, sir. I have a little idea. Many people have created some interesting legends about Hercule Poirot, but these legends are not true." "Very well," said von Alding, "tell me that! What is that little idea of ​​yours?" Poirot was silent for a while, then replied: "Tomorrow morning at eleven o'clock I will call on you at the hotel. Until then, please do not reveal my new discovery to anyone."