Poirot stared at her; for once his ready tongue failed him. I turned aside to hide the broadening smile I could not control.
'It's all this wicked dole,' continued the lady. 'Putting ideas into servants' heads, wanting to be typists and what nots. Stop the dole, that's what I say. I'd like to know what my servants have to complain of - afternoon and evening off a week, alternate Sundays, washing put out, same food as we have - and never a bit of margarine in the house, nothing but the very best butter.'
She paused for want of breath and Poirot seized his opportunity.
He spoke in his haughtiest manner rising to his feet as he did so.
'I fear you are making a mistake, madame. I am not holding an inquiry into the conditions of domestic service. I am a private detective.'
'I know that,' said our visitor. 'Didn't I tell you I wanted you to find my cook for me? Walked out of the house on Wednesday, without so much as a word to me, and never came back.'
'I am sorry, madame, but I do not touch'this particular kind of business. I wish you good morning.'
Our visitor snorted with indignation.
'That's it, is it, my fine fellow? Too proud, eh? Only deal with Government secrets and countesses' jewels? Let me tell you a servant's every bit as important as a tiara to a woman in my position. We can't all be fine ladies going out in our motors with our diamonds and our pearls. A good cook's a good cook - and when you lose her, it's as much to you as her pearls are to some fine lady.'
For a moment or two it appeared to be a toss up between Poirot's dignity and his sense of humour. Finally he laughed and sat down again.
'Madame, you are in the right, and I am in the wrong. Your remarks are just and intelligent. This case will be a novelty. Never yet have I hunted a missing domestic. Truly here is the problem of national importance that I was demanding of fate just before your arrival. En avant! You say this jewel of a cook went out on
Wednesday and did not return. That is the day before yesterday.' 'Yes, it was her day out.'
'But probably, madame, she has met with some accident. Have you inquired at any of the hospitals?'
'That's exactly what I thought yesterday, but this morning, if you please, she sent for her box. And not so much as a line to mel If I'd been at home, I'd not have let it go - treating me like thatl
But I'd just stepped out to the butcher.'
'Will you describe her to me?'
'She was middle-aged, stout, black hair turning grey - most respectable. She'd been ten years in her last place. Eliza Dunn, her name was.'
'And you had had - no disagreement with her on the Wednes-day?'
'None whatever. That's what makes it all so queer.'
'How many servants do you keep, madame?'
'Two. The house-parlourmaid, Annie, is a very nice girl. A bit forgetful and her head full of young men, but a good servant if you keep her up to her work.'
'Did she and the cook get on well together?'
'They had their ups and downs, of course - but on the whole, very well.'
'And the girl can throw no light on the mystery?'
'She says not - but you know what servants are - they all hang together.'
'Well, well, we must look into this. Where did you say you resided, madame?'
'At Clapham; 88 Prince Albert Road.'
'Bien, madame,, I will wish you good morning, and you may count upon seeing me at your residence during the course of the day.'
Mrs Todd, for such was our new friend's name, then took her departure. Poirot looked at me somewhat ruefully.
'Well, well, Hastings, this is a novel affair that we have here.
The Disappearance of the Clapham Cookl Never, never, must our friend Inspector Japp get to hear of thisl'
He then proceeded to heat an iron and carefully removed the grease spot from his grey suit by means of a piece of blotting-paper.
His moustaches he regretfully postponed to another day, and we set out for Clapham.
Prince Albert Road proved to be a street of small prim houses, all exactly alike, with neat lace curtains veiling the windows, and well polished brass knockers on the doors.
We rang the bell at No. 88, and the door was opened by a neat maid with a pretty face. Mrs Todd came out in the hall to greet us.
'Don't go, Annie,' she cried. 'This gentleman's a detective and he'll want to ask you some questions.'
Annie's face displayed a struggle between alarm and a pleasur-able excitement.
'I thank you, madame,' said Poirot bowing. 'I would like to question your maid now - and to see her alone, if I may.'
We were shown into a small drawing-room, and when Mrs Todd, with obvious reluctance, had left the room, Poirot com-menced his cross-examination.
'Voyons, Mademoiselle Annie, all that you shall tell us will be of the greatest importance. You alone can shed any light on the case. Without your assistance I can do nothing.'
The alarm vanished from the girl's face and the pleasurable excitement became more strongly marked.
'I'm sure, sir,' she said, 'I'll tell you anything I can.'
'That is good.' Poirot beamed approval on her. 'Now, first of all what is your own idea? You are a girl of remarkable intelligence.
That can be seen at oncel What is your own explanation of Eliza's disappearance?'
Thus encouraged, Annie fairly flowed into excited speech.
'White slavers, sir, I've said so all along! Cook was alway warning me against them. "Don't you sniff no scent, or eat any sweets - no matter how gentlemanly the fellowl" Those were her words to me. And now they've got herl I'm sure of it. As likely a not, she's been shipped to Turkey or one of them Eastern place, where I've heard they like them fat?
Poirot preserved an admirable gravity.
'But ia that case - and it is indeed an ideal - would she have ent for her trunk?'
'Well, I don't know, sir. She'd want her things - even in thoe foreign places.'
'Who came for the trunk - a man?' 'It was Carter Paterson, sir.' 'Did you pack it?'
'No, sir, it was already packed and corded.'
'Ahl That's interesting. That shows that when she left the hou on Wednesday, she had already determined not to return. You see that, do you not?'
'Yes, sir.' Annie looked slightly taken aback. 'I hadn't thought of that. But it might still have been white slavers, mightn't it, sir?' she added wistfully.
'Undoubtedlyl' said Poirot gravely. He went on: 'Did you both occupy the same bedroom?'
'No, sir, we had separate rooms.'
'And had Eliza expressed any dissatisfaction with her present post to you at all? Were you both happy here?'
'She'd never mentioned leaving. The place is all right - ' The girl hesitated.
'Speak freely,' said Poirot kindly. 'I shall not tell your mistress.'
'Well, of course, sir, she's a caution, Missus is. But the food's good. Plenty of it, and no stinting. Something hot for supper, good outings, and as much frying-fat as you like. And anyway, if Eliza did want to make a change, she'd never have gone off this way, I'm sure. She'd have stayed her month. Why, Missus could have a month's wages out of her for doing this?
'And the work, it is not too hard?'
'Well, she's particular - always poking round in corners and looking for dust. And then there's the lodger, or paying guest as he's always called. But that's only breakfast and dinner, same as
Master. They're out all day in the City.'
'You like your master?'
'He's all right - very quiet and a bit on the stingy side.'
'You can't remember, I suppose, the last thing Eliza said before she went out?'
'Yes, I can. "If there's any stewed peaches over from the dining-room," she says, "we'll have them for supper, and a bit of bacon and some fried potatoes." Mad over stewed peaches, she was. I shouldn't wonder if they didn't get her that way.'
'Was Wednesday her regular day out?'
'Yes, she had Wednesdays and I had Thursdays.'
Poirot asked a few more questions, then declared himself satisfied. Annie departed, and Mrs Todd hurried in, her face alight with curiosity. She had, I felt certain, bitterly resented her exclusion from the room during our conversation with Annie.
Poirot, however, was careful to soothe her feelings tactfully.
'It is difficult,' he explained, 'for a woman of exceptional intelligence such as yourself, madame, to bear patiently the roundabout methods we poor detectives are forced to use. To have patience with stupidity is difficult for the quick-witted.'
Having thus charmed away any little resentment on Mrs Todd's part, he brought the conversation round to her husband and elicited the information that he worked with a firm in the City and would not be home until after six.
'Doubtless he is very disturbed and worried by this unaccount-able business, eh? Is it not so?'
'He's never worried,' declared Mrs Todd. '"Well, well, get another, my dear." That's all he said! He's so calm that it drives me to distraction sometimes. "An ungrateful woman," he said. "We are well rid of her."' 'What about the other inmates of the house, madame?' 'You mean Mr Simpson, our paying guest? Well, as long as he gets his breakfast and his evening meal all right, he doesn't worry. ' 'What is. his profession, madame?' 'He works in a bank.' She mentioned its name, and I started slightly, remembering my perusal of the Daily Blare.
'A young man?' 'Twenty-eight, I believe. Nice quiet young fellow.' 'I should like to have a few words with him, and also with your husband, if I may. I will return for that purpose this evening. I venture to suggest that you should repose yourself a little, madame, you look fatigued.' 'I should just think I am! First the worry about Eliza, and then I was at the sales practically all yesterday, and you know what that is, M. Poirot, and what with one thing and another and a lot to do in the house, because of course Annie can't do it all - and very likely she'll give notice anyway, being unsettled in this way well, what with it all, I'm tired outl' Poirot murmured sympathetically, and we took our leave.
'It's a curious coincidence,' I said, 'but that absconding clerk, Davis, was from the same bank as Simpson. Can there be any connection, do you think?' Poirot smiled.
'At the one end, a defaulting clerk, at the other a vanishing cook. It is hard to see any relation between the two, unless possibly Davis visited Simpson, fell in love with the cook, and persuaded her to accompany him on his flightl' I laughed. But Poirot remained grave.
'He might have done worse,' he said reprovingly. 'Remember, Hastings, if you are going into exile, a good cook may be of more comfort than a pretty face!' He paused for a moment and then went on. 'It is a curious case, full of contradictory features. I am interested - yes, I am distinctly interested.'
That evening we returned to 88 Prince Albert Road and inter-viewed both Todd and Simpson. The former was a melancholy lantern-jawed man of forty-odd.
'Obi Yes, yes,' he said vaguely. 'Eliza. Yes. A good cook, I believe. And economical. I make a strong point of economy.'
'Can you imagine any reason for her leaving you so suddenly?' 'Oh, well,' said Mr Todd vaguely. 'Servants, you know. My wife worries too much. Worn out from always worrying. The whole problem's quite simple really. "Get another, my dear," I say.
"Get another." That's all there is to it. No good crying over spilt milk.'
Mr Simpson was equally unhelpful. He was a quiet incon-spicuous young man with spectacles.
'I must have seen her, I suppose,' he said. 'Elderly woman, wasn't she? Of course, it's the other one I see always, Annie.
Nice girl. Very obliging.'
'Were those two on good terms with each other?'
Mr Simpson said he couldn't say, he was sure. He supposed so.
'Well, we get nothing of interest there, rnon ami,' said Poirot as we left the house. Our departure had been delayed by a burst of vociferous repetition from Mrs Todd, who repeated everything she had said that morning at rather greater length.
'Are you disappointed?' I asked. 'Did you expect to hear some-thing?'
Poirot shook his head.
'There was a possibility, of course,' he said. 'But I hardly thought it likely.'
The next development was a letter which Poirot received on the following morning. He read it, turned purple with indignation, and handed it to me.
Mrs Todd regrets that after all she will not avail herself of Mr Poirot's services. After talking the matter over with her husband she sees that it is foolish to call in a detective about a purely domestic affair. Mrs Todd encloses a guinea for con-sultation fee.
'Ahal' cried Poirot angrily. 'And they think to get rid of Hercule loirot like thatl As a favour - a great favour - I consent to investigate their miserable little twopenny-halfpenny affair - and they dismiss me comme fal Here, I mistake not, is the hand of Mr Todd. But I say nol - thirty-six times nol I will spend my own guineas, thirty-six hundred of them if need be, but I will get to the bottom of this matter?
'Yes,' I said. 'But how?' Poirot calmed down a little.
'D'abord,' he said, 'we will advertise in the papers. Let me see yes - something like this: "If Eliza Dunn will communicate with thia address, she will hear of something to her advantage." Put it in all the papers you can think of, Hastings. Then I will make some little inquiries of my own. Go, go - all must be done as quickly as possible!' I did not see him again until the evening, when he condescended to tell me what he had been doing.
'I have made inquiries at the firm of Mr Todd. He was not absent on,Wednesday, and he bears a good character - so much for him. Then Simpson, on Thursday he was ill and did not come to the bank, but he was there on Wednesday. He was moderately friendly with Davis. Nothing out of the common. There does not eem to be anything there. No. We must place our reliance on the advertisement.' The advertisement duly appeared in all the principal daily papers. By Poirot's orders it was to be continued every day for a week. His eagerness over this uninteresting matter of a defaulting cook was extraordinary, but I realized that he considered it a point of honour to persevere until he finally succeeded. Several extremely interesting cases were brought to him about this time, but he declined them all. Every morning he would rush at his letters, scrutinize them earnestly and then lay them down with a sigh.
But our patience was rewarded at last. On the Wednesday following Mrs Todd's visit, our landlady informed us that a person of the name of Eliza Dunn had called.
'Enfin!' cried Poirot. 'But make her mount thenl At once. Immediately.'
Thts admonished, our landlady hurried out and returned a moment or two later, ushering in Miss Dunn. Our quarry was much as described: tall, stout, and eminently respectable.
'I came in answer to the advertisement,' she eXPlained. 'I thought there must be some muddle or other, and that perhaps you didn't know I'd already got my legacy.'
Poirot was studying her attentively. He drew forward a chair with a flourish.
'The truth of the matter is,' he explained, 'that your late mistress, Mrs Todd, was much concerned about you. She feared some accident might have befallen you.'
Eliza Dunn seemed very much surprised.
'Didn't she get my letter then?'
'She got no word of any kind.' He paused, and then said per-suasively: 'Recount to me the whole story, will you not?'
Eliza Dunn needed no encouragement. She plunged at once into a lengthy narrative.
'I was just coming home on Wednesday night and had nearly got to the house, when a gentleman stopped me. A tall gentleman he was, with a beard and a big hat. "Miss Eliza Dunn?" he said.