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‘Then he must have gone out soon after me?’
‘That’s right, sir. You went out after I’d taken up a toff what come in a Rolls. Coo—it was a loverly car, Mr Blunt—eleven-thirty. Then I come down and let you out, and a lady in. Miss Some Berry Seal, or something like that—and then I—well, as a matter of fact I just nipped down to the kitchen to get my elevenses, and when I was down there the buzzer went—Mr Reilly’s buzzer—so I come up and, as I say, the American gentleman had hooked it. I went and told Mr Reilly and he swore a bit, as is his way.’
Poirot said:
‘Continue.’
‘Lemme see, what happened next? Oh, yes, Mr Morley’s buzzer went for that Miss Seal, and the toff came down and went out as I took Miss Whatsername up in the lift. Then I come down again and two gentlemen came—one a little man with a funny squeaky voice—I can’t remember his name. For Mr Reilly, he was. And a fat foreign gentleman for Mr Morley.
‘Miss Seal wasn’t very long—not above a quarter of an hour. I let her out and then I took up the foreign gentleman. I’d already taken the other gent into Mr Reilly right away as soon as he came.’
Japp said:
‘And you didn’t see Mr Amberiotis, the foreign gentleman, leave?’
‘No, sir, I can’t say as I did. He must have let himself out. I didn’t see either of those two gentlemen go.’
‘Where were you from twelve o’clock onwards?’
‘I always sit in the lift, sir, waiting until the front-door bell or one of the buzzers goes.’
Poirot said:
‘And you were perhaps reading?’
Alfred blushed again.
‘There ain’t no harm in that, sir. It’s not as though I could be doing anything else.’
‘Quite so. What were you reading?’
‘Death at Eleven-Forty-Five, sir. It’s an American detective story. It’s a corker, sir, it really is! All about gunmen.’
Poirot smiled faintly. He said:
‘Would you hear the front door close from where you were?’
‘You mean anyone going out? I don’t think I should, sir. What I mean is, I shouldn’t notice it! You see, the lift is right at the back of the hall and a little round the corner. The bell rings just behind it, and the buzzers too. You can’t miss them.’
Poirot nodded and Japp asked:
‘What happened next?’
Alfred frowned in a supreme effort of memory.
‘Only the last lady, Miss Shirty. I waited for Mr Morley’s buzzer to go, but nothing happened and at one o’clock the lady who was waiting, she got rather ratty.’
‘It did not occur to you to go up before and see if Mr Morley was ready?’
Alfred shook his head very positively.
‘Not me, sir. I wouldn’t have dreamed of it. For all I knew the last gentleman was still up there. I’d got to wait for the buzzer. Of course if I’d knowed as Mr Morley had done himself in—’
Alfred shook his head with morbid relish.
Poirot asked:
‘Did the buzzer usually go before the patient came down, or the other way about?’
‘Depends. Usually the patient would come down the stairs and then the buzzer would go. If they rang for the lift, that buzzer would go perhaps as I was bringing them down. But it wasn’t fixed in any way. Sometimes Mr Morley would be a few minutes before he rang for the next patient. If he was in a hurry, he’d ring as soon as they were out of the room.’
‘I see—’ Poirot paused and then went on:
‘Were you surprised at Mr Morley’s suicide, Alfred?’
‘Knocked all of a heap, I was. He hadn’t no call to go doing himself in as far as I can see—oh!’ Alfred’s eyes grew large and round. ‘Oo—er—he wasn’t murdered, was he?’
Poirot cut in before Japp could speak.
‘Supposing he were, would it surprise you less?’
‘Well, I don’t know, sir, I’m sure. I can’t see who’d want to murder Mr Morley. He was—well, he was a very ordinary gentleman, sir. Was he really murdered, sir?’
Poirot said gravely:
‘We have to take every possibility into account. That is why I told you you would be a very important witness and that you must try and recollect everything that happened this morning.’
He stressed the words and Alfred frowned with a prodigious effort of memory.
‘I can’t think of anything else, sir. I can’t indeed.’
Alfred’s tone was rueful.
‘Very good, Alfred. And you are quite sure no one except patients came to the house this morning?’
‘No stranger did, sir. That Miss Nevill’s young man came round—and in a rare taking not to find her here.’
Japp said sharply:
‘When was that?’
‘Some time after twelve it was. When I told him Miss Nevill was away for the day, he seemed very put out and he said he’d wait and see Mr Morley. I told him Mr Morley was busy right up to lunch time, but he said: Never mind, he’d wait.’
Poirot asked:
‘And did he wait?’
A startled look came into Alfred’s eyes. He said:
‘Cor—I never thought of that! He went into the waiting-room, but he wasn’t there later. He must have got tired of waiting, and thought he’d come back another time.’
When Alfred had gone out of the room, Japp said sharply:
‘D’you think it wise to suggest murder to that lad?’
Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
‘I think so—yes. Anything suggestive that he may have seen or heard will come back to him under the stimulus, and he will be keenly alert to everything that goes on here.’
‘All the same, we don’t want it to get about too soon.’
‘Mon cher, it will not. Alfred reads detective stories—Alfred is enamoured of crime. Whatever Alfred lets slip will be put down to Alfred’s morbid criminal imagination.’
‘Well, perhaps you are right, Poirot. Now we’ve got to hear what Reilly has to say.’
Mr Reilly’s surgery and office were on the first floor. They were as spacious as the ones above but had less light in them, and were not quite so richly appointed.
Mr Morley’s partner was a tall, dark young man, with a plume of hair that fell untidily over his forehead. He had an attractive voice and a very shrewd eye.
‘We’re hoping, Mr Reilly,’ said Japp, after introducing himself, ‘that you can throw some light on this matter.’
‘You’re wrong then, because I can’t,’ replied the other. ‘I’d say this—that Henry Morley was the last person to go taking his own life. I might have done it—but he wouldn’t.’
‘Why might you have done it?’ asked Poirot.
‘Because I’ve oceans of worries,’ replied the other. ‘Money troubles, for one! I’ve never yet been able to suit my expenditure to my income. But Morley was a careful man. You’ll find no debts, nor money troubles, I’m sure of that.’
‘Love affairs?’ suggested Japp.
‘Is it Morley you mean? He had no joy of living at all! Right under his sister’s thumb he was, poor man.’
Japp went on to ask Reilly details about the patients he had seen that morning.
‘Oh, I fancy they’re all square and above-board. Little Betty Heath, she’s a nice child—I’ve had the whole family one after another. Colonel Abercrombie’s an old patient, too.’
‘What about Mr Howard Raikes?’ asked Japp.
Reilly grinned broadly.
‘The one who walked out on me? He’s never been to me before. I know nothing about him. He rang up and particularly asked for an appointment this morning.’
‘Where did he ring up from?’
‘Holborn Palace Hotel. He’s an American, I fancy.’
‘So Alfred said.’
‘Alfred should know,’ said Mr Reilly. ‘He’s a film fan, our Alfred.’
‘And your other patient?’
‘Barnes? A funny precise little man. Retired Civil Servant. Lives out Ealing way.’
Japp paused a minute and then said:
‘What can you tell us about Miss Nevill?’
Mr Reilly raised his eyebrows.
‘The bee-yewtiful blonde secretary? Nothing doing, old boy! Her relations with old Morley were perfectly pewer—I’m sure of it.’
‘I never suggested they weren’t,’ said Japp, reddening slightly.
‘My fault,’ said Reilly. ‘Excuse my filthy mind, won’t you? I thought it might be an attempt on your part to cherchez la femme.
‘Excuse me for speaking your language,’ he added parenthetically to Poirot. ‘Beautiful accent, haven’t I? It comes of being educated by nuns.’
Japp disapproved of this flippancy. He asked:
‘Do you know anything about the young man she is engaged to? His name is Carter, I understand. Frank Carter.’
‘Morley didn’t think much of him,’ said Reilly. ‘He tried to get la Nevill to turn him down.’
‘That might have annoyed Carter?’
‘Probably annoyed him frightfully,’ agreed Mr Reilly cheerfully.
He paused and then added:
‘Excuse me, this is a suicide you are investigating, not a murder?’
Japp said sharply:
‘If it were a murder, would you have anything to suggest?’
‘Not I! I’d like it to be Georgina! One of those grim females with temperance on the brain. But I’m afraid Georgina is full of moral rectitude. Of course I could easily have nipped upstairs and shot the old boy myself, but I didn’t. In fact, I can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill Morley. But then I can’t conceive of his killing himself.’
He added—in a different voice:
‘As a matter of fact, I’m very sorry about it … You mustn’t judge by my manner. That’s just nervousness, you know. I was fond of old Morley and I shall miss him.’
Japp put down the telephone receiver. His face, as he turned to Poirot, was rather grim.
He said:
‘Mr Amberiotis isn’t feeling very well—would rather not see any one this afternoon.
‘He’s going to see me—and he’s not going to give me the slip either! I’ve got a man at the Savoy ready to trail him if he tries to make a get-away.’
