The Jewel Robbery at the Grand Metropolitan by Agatha Christie

Author:Agatha Christie [Christie, Agatha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: William Morrow Paperbacks
Published: 2012-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

The next morning, hearing nothing from Poirot, I went out for a stroll, met some old friends, and lunched with them at their hotel. In the afternoon we went for a spin. A punctured tyre delayed us, and it was past eight when I got back to the Grand Metropolitan.

The first sight that met my eyes was Poirot, looking even more diminutive than usual, sandwiched between the Opalsens, beaming in a state of placid satisfaction.

‘Mon ami Hastings!’ he cried, and sprang to meet me. ‘Embrace me, my friend; all has marched to a marvel!’

Luckily, the embrace was merely figurative – not a thing one is always sure of with Poirot.

‘Do you mean –’ I began.

‘Just wonderful, I call it!’ said Mrs Opalsen, smiling all over her fat face. ‘Didn’t I tell you, Ed, that if he couldn’t get back my pearls nobody would?’

‘You did, my dear, you did. And you were right.’

I looked helplessly at Poirot, and he answered the glance.

‘My friend Hastings is, as you say in England, all at the seaside. Seat yourself, and I will recount to you all the affair that has so happily ended.’

‘Ended?’

‘But yes. They are arrested.’

‘Who are arrested?’

‘The chambermaid and the valet, parbleu! You did not suspect? Not with my parting hint about the French chalk?’

‘You said cabinet-makers used it.’

‘Certainly they do – to make drawers slide easily. Somebody wanted the drawer to slide in and out without any noise. Who could that be? Obviously, only the chambermaid. The plan was so ingenious that it did not at once leap to the eye – not even to the eye of Hercule Poirot.

‘Listen, this was how it was done. The valet was in the empty room next door, waiting. The French maid leaves the room. Quick as a flash the chambermaid whips open the drawer, takes out the jewel-case and, slipping back the bolt, passes it through the door. The valet opens it at his leisure with the duplicate key with which he has provided himself, extracts the necklace, and waits his time. Célestine leaves the room again, and – pst! – in a flash the case is passed back again and replaced in the drawer.

‘Madame arrives, the theft is discovered. The chambermaid demands to be searched, with a good deal of righteous indignation, and leaves the room without a stain on her character. The imitation necklace with which they have provided themselves has been concealed in the French girl’s bed that morning by the chambermaid – a master stroke, ça!’

‘But what did you go to London for?’

‘You remember the card?’

‘Certainly. It puzzled me – and puzzles me still. I thought –’

I hesitated delicately, glancing at Mr Opalsen.

Poirot laughed heartily.

‘Une blague! For the benefit of the valet. The card was one with a specially prepared surface – for fingerprints. I went straight to Scotland Yard, asked for our old friend Inspector Japp, and laid the facts before him. As I had suspected, the fingerprints proved to be those of two well-known jewel thieves who have been “wanted” for some time.

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