Christie, Agatha - Black Coffee by Christie Agatha

Author:Christie, Agatha [Christie, Agatha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2011-11-23T21:05:48+00:00

Chapter 13

After seeing Miss Amory out, Poirot turned his attention to Edward Raynor. ‘Now, Monsieur Raynor,’ he said as he gestured the secretary to a chair, ‘let me hear what you have to tell me.’

Raynor sat, and regarded Poirot earnestly. ‘Mr Amory has just told me the news about Sir Claud. The cause of his death, I mean. This is a most extraordinary business, monsieur.’

‘It has come as a shock to you?’ asked Poirot.

‘Certainly. I never suspected such a thing.’ Approaching him, Poirot handed Raynor the key that he had found, watching the secretary keenly as he did so. ‘Have you ever seen this key before, Monsieur Raynor?’ he asked.

Raynor took the key, and turned it about in his hands with a puzzled air. ‘It looks rather like the key to Sir Claud’s safe,’ he observed. ‘But I understand from Mr Amory that Sir Claud’s key was in its proper place on his chain.’ He handed the key back to Poirot.

‘Yes, this is a key to the safe in Sir Claud’s study, but it is a duplicate key,’ Poirot told him, adding slowly and with emphasis, ‘a duplicate which was lying on the floor beside the chair you occupied last night.’

Raynor looked at the detective unflinchingly. ‘If you think it was I who dropped it, you are mistaken,’ he declared.

Poirot regarded him searchingly for a moment, and then nodded his head as if satisfied. ‘I believe you,’ he said. Moving briskly to the settee, he sat down and rubbed his hands together. ‘Now, let us get to work, Monsieur Raynor. You were Sir Claud’s confidential secretary, were you not?’

‘That is correct.’

‘Then you knew a lot about his work?’

‘Yes. I have a certain amount of scientific training, and I occasionally helped him with his experiments.’

‘Do you know anything,’ asked Poirot, ‘that can throw light upon this unfortunate affair?’

Raynor took a letter from his pocket. ‘Only this,’ he replied, as he rose, moved across to Poirot and handed him the letter. ‘One of my tasks was to open and sort out all of Sir Claud’s correspondence. This came two days ago.’

Poirot took the letter and read it aloud. ‘“You are nourishing a viper in your bosom.” Bosom?’ he queried, turning to Hastings before continuing, ‘ “Beware of Selma Goetz and her brood. Your secret is known. Be on your guard.” It is signed “Watcher”. H’m, very picturesque and dramatic. Hastings, you will enjoy this,’ Poirot remarked, passing the letter to his friend.

‘What I would like to know,’ declared Edward Raynor, ‘is this. Who is Selma Goetz?’

Leaning back and putting his finger-tips together, Poirot announced, ‘I think I can satisfy your curiosity, monsieur. Selma Goetz was the most successful international spy ever known. She was also a very beautiful woman. She worked for Italy, for France, for Germany, and eventually, I believe, for Russia. Yes, she was an extraordinary woman, Selma Goetz.’

Raynor stepped back a pace, and spoke sharply. ‘Was?’

‘She is dead,’ Poirot declared. ‘She died in Genoa, last November.’ He retrieved the letter from Hastings, who had been shaking his head over it with a perplexed expression.

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