chapter4_page_65-82

4. The disappearance of Mr. Davenheim.

Our friend Inspector Jab of Scotland Yard was coming for tea. Poirot and I were sitting

round the tea table waiting for him. Poirot had straightened the cups and sauces on the

table. He had also breathed on the metal teapot and polished it with a silk handkerchief.

The kettle was boiling and there was some chocolate on a small plate. We heard a knock on

the door downstairs. A few minutes later, Jab entered the room.

I hope I'm not late, he said. I was chatting with Miller, the detective who was in charge

of the Davenheim case. For the last three days, the papers had been full of the strange

disappearance of Mr. Davenheim. He was the senior partner of Davenheim and Salmon,

the well -known banking company. He had left his house on Saturday and had not been seen since then.

I can't believe that people can disappear nowadays, I said. Poirot looked at me.

What do you mean by disappear, my friend? He said.

What kind of disappearance are you talking about?

Are there different kinds of disappearances? I laughed.

Jab smiled. Poirot frowned. Of course there are. There are three kinds.

First, the voluntary disappearance. Second, the loss of memory case.

And third, murder and the disposal of the body. Do you think they are all impossible to do?

I think so. You might lose your memory, but someone will recognize you eventually.

And bodies don't just disappear. They are found sooner or later.

Similarly, the person who disappears voluntarily will be found soon.

We have wireless telegraphy, seaports and railway stations and newspapers.

He cannot escape from civilization.

My friend, you make one error, said Poirot.

A man who decides to kill another man or make himself disappear can become very smart.

He could beat the police using intelligence, talent and careful planning.

But not you, said Jab, winking at me. He couldn't beat you, mess your Poirot.

Poirot tried to look modest. Me too. Why not? I look at problems with science and mathematics.

But the young detectives don't use them nowadays. Jab smiled.

I don't know, he said. Detective Miller is a smart man.

He will look at every footprint and every crumb. He has got eyes that see every detail.

These things are all good, but most details are unimportant.

One or two are vital. You must rely on the brain, the little grey cells.

The senses mislead. One must look for the truth within, not without.

Mosia Poirot, are you saying that you could solve a case without moving from your chair?

Yes, I am. If the facts are given to me, I can do it. Jab was excited.

I bet you can't find Mr. Davenheim, dead or alive in a week.

I'll give you five pounds if you can find him. Poirot thought, well, all right, my friend.

I accept. Now give me the facts.

Jab began explaining. Last Saturday, as always, Mr. Davenheim took the 1240 train from Victoria

to Chingside. His country house is in Chingside. After lunch, he walked around the garden

and gave instructions to the gardeners. Everybody says that he looked normal.

After tea, he went into his wife's room and told her that he was going to walk to the village

and post some letters. He also said that a person called Mr. Lowen was coming for a business meeting.

If Lowen came before he returned, he told his wife to show him into the study.

Mr. Davenheim left the house by the front door, walked down the drive and out of the gate.

He was never seen again.

Interesting, said Poirot, a nice little problem. Please continue.

About fifteen minutes later, a tall dark man with a thick black moustache rang the front doorbell.

He said that he had an appointment with Mr. Davenheim. He said his name was Lowen,

so he was shown into the study.

Nearly an hour passed, Mr. Davenheim did not return.

Finally, Mr. Lowen said that he could not wait any longer because he had to catch the train back

to town. Mrs. Davenheim apologized for her husband's absence. Mr. Lowen left.

I see and then said Poirot.

Well, Mr. Davenheim did not come back. Early on Sunday morning, the police were informed.

Mr. Davenheim had disappeared. He had not been to the post office. He had not been seen passing

through the village. Nobody had seen him taking the train at the station.

His own car was still in the garage. If he had hired a car to pick him up,

the driver would have told the police because there is a big reward for information.

One more thing, there was a small race at Enfield, which is five miles away,

so the village was crowded. Nobody would have noticed him in the crowd if he had walked to

that station. But his photograph and full description have been printed in every newspaper since then.

Nobody has given any information about him.

Is that all? asked Poirot. Well, no. On Monday, something extraordinary happened.

The police discovered that the safe in Mr. Davenheim's study was broken into.

The windows of the room were closed tightly on the inside. It is possible that the burglary

was committed on Saturday, but nobody noticed it until Monday.

I see, said Poirot. Well, is Mr. Lowen arrested? Not yet, said Jab, but he's under inspection.

Poirot nodded his head. What was taken from the safe?

The junior partner of the company and Mrs. Davenheim have been helping us with that.

It seems that there was a large amount of money and bonds in the safe.

Also, all of Mrs. Davenheim's jewels were kept in there. Mr. Davenheim loved to buy her jewelry

and had given her an expensive gem almost every month in the recent years.

I see, said Poirot thoughtfully.

What about Lowen? What was his business with Davenheim that evening?

Well, the two men did not get along well.

Lowen won some money from Davenheim in the market several times,

but it seems that they seldom or never met face to face.

Their appointment was about a business in South America.

Did Davenheim have money in South America?

I think so. Mrs. Davenheim said that he spent last autumn in Buenos Aires.

Were there any problems in his home life?

Well, his home life was quite peaceful. Mrs. Davenheim is a nice woman, but not very smart.

Then the solution to the mystery is not there. Did Mr. Davenheim have any enemies?

He had many financial rivals. I'm sure there are many people that lost money because of him.

But no one would hate him enough to kill him.

If they had, where is the body?

Exactly, as Hastings says, bodies eventually appear.

Also on Saturday, one of the gardeners saw a figure going around to the side of the house

toward the Rose Garden. The study has a door to the Rose Garden.

Mr. Davenheim frequently entered and left the house that way.

But the men was quite far away, and he does not know if the figure was Mr. Davenheim or not.

Also, he does not remember the exact time.

It must have been before six, because the gardeners stopped working at six.

And when did Mr. Davenheim leave the house?

Around half past five.

What is there beyond the Rose Garden? A lake. Is there a boat house?

Yes, two boats are kept there.

Are you thinking of suicide, must you, Poirot?

Inspector Miller is getting the water pumped out tomorrow to look for a body.

That's the kind of men he is. Poirot smiled and turned to me.

Hastings, please give me that copy of the daily megaphone.

There is a very clear photograph there of the missing man.

I found the paper and gave it to him. Poirot studied the face carefully.

Hm, he said. He had long and wavy hair. A full mustache and pointed beard and bushy eyebrows.

Eyes dark? Yes. Hair and beard turning gray?

The detective nodded his head.

Well, Mr. Poirot, what are you going to say about it all?

It is not so clear, is it?

Not clear at all.

Jab looked pleased.

And I am hopeful that I will solve it, said Poirot calmly.

What?

It is a good sign when a case is not clear.

If something is very clear, mistrust it.

It means that someone has made it very clear.

Jab shook his head.

I will shut my eyes and think, said Poirot.

Well, you've got a week to think about it, said Jab.

And you will inform me about any new findings.

Certainly.

Jab said he had to leave. I walked him to the door.

I will win the bet easily, he said.

I agreed with a smile. I was still smiling when I came back to the room.

Oh, very good, said Poirot.

You make fun of me, don't you?

You do not trust my gray cells?

Well, let us discuss this little problem.

There are one or two interesting points.

The lake, I said.

The boat house, he said.

I looked at Poirot.

He was smiling in a mysterious way.

We did not hear from Jab until nine o 'clock the following evening.

As he walked in, I could tell from his face that he had some news.

Well, my friend, said Poirot.

Do not tell me that you have found the body in the lake,

because I will not believe you.

We haven't found the body, but we did find the clothes he was wearing that day.

Any other clothes missing from the house?

No, his valet is quite sure.

The rest of his clothes are in the house, but there's more.

We've arrested Lohan.

One of the maids says that she saw Lohan walking towards the study

through the Rose Garden about a quarter past six.

That is about ten minutes before he left the house.

What does Lohan say about that?

First, he denied that he had left the study, but the maid was sure.

Later, he said that he had forgotten going out to look at an interesting rose.

And there's other evidence against him.

Mr. Davenheim wore a diamond ring on the little finger of his right hand.

That ring was sold in London on Saturday night.

A man called Billy Kellett did it.

He's already known to the police.

He saw the ring, got drunk with the money,

attacked a policeman and was arrested.

I went to see him with Inspector Miller.

Well, what did he tell you?

He was at Enfield races on Saturday.

He had a bad day and lost a lot of money.

He was walking along the road to Chingside.

He sat down by the road for a rest.

Then he noticed a man coming along the road to the village.

A gentleman with dark skin and a big mustache.

Kellett was sitting behind a heap of stones,

so the man did not notice him.

He looked around and then he took a small object from his pocket

and threw it over the hedge.

Then he went towards the station.

After he was gone, Kellett picked up the object.

It was Mr. Davenheim's ring.

I see, said Poirot.

Well, of course, that is Kellett's story.

Loin completely denies it.

We cannot rely on a man like Kellett.

It is possible that he met Davenheim and robbed and murdered him.

Poirot shook his head.

That is not possible, my friend, he said.

Firstly, he had no way of getting rid of the body.

The police would have found it by now.

Secondly, he saw the ring without fear.

Thirdly, such small thieves are rarely murderers.

Fourthly, he has been in prison since Saturday,

but he has given a very good description of Loin.

Jab nodded his head.

You may be right, but a jury would pay attention

to the evidence of a man like Kellett.

Why did Loin not find a clever way of getting rid of the ring?

Well, if the ring were found in the neighborhood,

it could be said that Davenheim had dropped it, said Poirot.

But why remove it from the body, I cried.

There might be a reason for that, said Jab.

Just beyond the lake, three minutes away, there is a lime kiln.

Oh my God, I cried.

The lime which destroyed the body would not destroy the metal of the ring.

So maybe he had to remove the ring from the body and get rid of it.

Yes.

That explains everything, I said.

What a horrible crime.

We both turned and looked at Poirot.

He was in deep thinking.

We waited for a while for him to speak.

At last, he turned to Jab.

My friend, do you know if Mr. and Mrs. Davenheim occupied the same bedroom?

Jab laughed out loud.

Monsieur Poirot, I thought you were going to say something important.

I don't know the answer to your question.

Could you find out, asked Poirot?

Oh certainly.

If you really want to know, thank you my friend.

Poirot seemed to have forgotten us both.

Jab shook his head sadly at me and left the room.

Poirot was in a daydream, so I took a sheet of paper and took notes.

Finally, he came back from his daydream.

What are you doing my friend?

He asked.

I was noting down the main points of the case.

Do you want me to read them?

Please.

One, all the evidence shows that Loenn was the men who opened the safe.

Two, Loenn had some kind of hatred towards Davenheim.

Three, at first he lied that he had never left the study.

Four, if we take Billy Kelly's story as true, we can easily focus on Loenn.

Poirot looked at me with pity and shook his head.

My poor friend, you do not have the talent.

Your logic is false.

How?

Let's go over your four points.

One, Mr. Loenn came for a business meeting.

He could not know that he would get the chance to open the safe.

He could not know that Mr. Davenheim would be absent,

and that he would be alone in the study.

Maybe he saw the chance and then decided to open the safe.

But what about the tools?

City gentlemen, do not carry housebreakers tools.

You need more than a pen knife to cut into that safe.

Well, what about number two?

You say Loenn had some hatred towards Mr. Davenheim.

Loenn had once or twice defeated him in the past.

But normally, you do not hate someone you defeat.

It was probably Mr. Davenheim who had negative feelings towards Loenn.

But what about number three?

He lied about never having left the study.

He may have been frightened.

Remember, the missing man's clothes had been discovered in the lake.

And the fourth point?

I agree with you on the fourth point.

If Kellert's story is true, we can easily focus on Loenn.

That makes the case very interesting.

Then I was right about one fact.

Yes, but you have overlooked the two most important points.

One, Mr. Davenheim has recently had an interest in buying jewelry.

Two, he went to Buenos Aires last autumn.

Poirot, you are joking.

I am very serious.

At 11 o 'clock the next day, a telegram came from Jab.

Husband and wife have slept in different rooms since last winter.

Aha, cried Poirot.

And now we are in mid -June.

All is solved.

I stared at him.

I hope you do not have any money in the bank of Davenheim and salmon, my friend, he said.

No, I said.

Why?

Because I would advise you to withdraw it before it is too late.

Why?

What do you expect?

I expect a big crash in a few days.

Give me a pencil and paper, please.

I will write to Jab.

We draw any money you have in the bank of Davenheim and salmon.

He will be shocked.

He will not understand it.

He was right.

The next day, every paper had a headline about the shocking crash of the bank.

As we were having breakfast, the door opened and Jab rushed in.

In one hand, he was holding a newspaper and in the other, Poirot's telegram.

How did you know, Monsieur Poirot?

He asked.

Poirot smiled.

Ah, my friend.

It was obvious.

From the beginning, I thought that the burglary was an important point.

There were jewels, ready money and bonds in the safe.

Who was all this for?

Well, it seemed clear that Monsieur Davenheim had prepared it for himself.

He had been buying a lot of jewelry recently.

He bought jewels with the money he made.

He probably put imitation jewels into the safe

and put the real ones in a safe place under another name.

His plan was completed.

He made an appointment with Mr. Lowen.

Emptied the safe, told his wife to show his guest into the study and walked out of the house.

Where did he go?

Poirot stopped and took a boiled egg.

He frowned.

It is really annoying that every egg is a different size.

Never mind the eggs, said Jab impatiently.

Tellers where Davenheim went.

Oh, well, he went to his hiding place.

Monsieur Davenheim is a very smart man.

Do you know where he is hiding?

Certainly, it is very clever.

Then please tellers.

Poirot collected the pieces of eggshell from his plate

and put them in the egg cup.

Then he smiled and looked at us kindly.

Come, my friends, you are intelligent men.

Ask yourselves this question.

If I were this men, where would I hide?

Hastings, what do you say?

Well, I said, I think I would not escape.

I'd stay in London and travel by tubes and buses.

There's safety in a crowd.

Poirot turned to Jab.

I don't agree, said Jab.

I would go away at once.

I'd get on the yacht waiting for me and go to the other side of the world.

We both looked at Poirot.

What do you say, Monsieur?

For a moment, he was silent.

Then he smiled.

My friends, if I were hiding from the police,

do you know where I would hide?

In a prison.

What?

You are searching for Monsieur Davenheim

because you want to put him in prison.

But you never look there.

What do you mean?

You said that Madame Davenheim was not of very smart woman.

But if you took her to prison to show her Billy Kellett,

she would recognize him.

He has short hair and no beard or mustache.

But a woman always knows her husband.

Billy Kellett, but he's known to the police.

Davenheim is a clever man.

He prepared his alibi a long time ago.

Last autumn, he was not in Boyness iries.

He was creating the character of Billy Kellett.

He was in prison for three months.

He was playing for a large fortune.

But there was only one problem.

Yes, well, when he returned home,

he had to wear a false beard and wig.

He had to sleep with a beard.

He could not continue to share a room with his wife.

When you told me that they had been sleeping

in different rooms for six months, I was sure.

The gardener who said that he had seen him going around

to the side of the house was right.

Davenheim went to the boat house,

put on his poor men clothes and dropped the other clothes in the lake.

Then he carried out his plan.

He saw the ring and then attacked a policeman.

He was able to get into prison where he would be safe.

It's impossible, said Jab.

Ask his wife, said Poirot smiling.

The next day at breakfast, a letter came from Jab.

Poirot opened it and a five pound note fell out.

Ah, but what will I do with this money?

I am sad. It was too easy to solve the crime.

Poor Jab.

Ah, I have an idea.

The three of us will have a little dinner.

I feel better now.