‘I guess I don’t need to tell you what I want you for. You’ve read the papers, and I’m never one to let the grass grow under my feet. I happened to hear you were in London, and I remembered the good work you did over those bombs. Never forget a name. I’ve the pick of Scotland Yard, but I’ll have my own man as well. Money no object. All the dollars were made for my little girl – and now she’s gone, I’ll spend my last cent to catch the damned scoundrel that did it! See? So it’s up to you to deliver the goods.’
Poirot bowed.
‘I accept, monsieur, all the more willingly that I saw your daughter in Paris several times. And now I will ask you to tell me the circumstances of her journey to Plymouth and any other details that seem to you to bear upon the case.’
‘Well, to begin with,’ responded Halliday, ‘she wasn’t going to Plymouth. She was going to join a house-party at Avonmead Court, the Duchess of Swansea’s place. She left London by the twelve-fourteen from Paddington, arriving at Bristol (where she had to change) at two-fifty. The principal Plymouth expresses, of course, run via Westbury, and do not go near Bristol at all. The twelve-fourteen does a non-stop run to Bristol, afterwards stopping at Weston, Taunton, Exeter and Newton Abbot. My daughter travelled alone in her carriage, which was reserved as far as Bristol, her maid being in a third class carriage in the next coach.’
Poirot nodded, and Mr Halliday went on: ‘The party at Avonmead Court was to be a very gay one, with several balls, and in consequence my daughter had with her nearly all her jewels – amounting in value, perhaps, to about a hundred thousand dollars.’
‘Un moment,’ interrupted Poirot. ‘Who had charge of the jewels? Your daughter, or the maid?’
‘My daughter always took charge of them herself, carrying them in a small blue morocco case.’
‘Continue, monsieur.’
‘At Bristol the maid, Jane Mason, collected her mistress’s dressing-bag and wraps, which were with her, and came to the door of Flossie’s compartment. To her intense surprise, my daughter told her that she was not getting out at Bristol, but was going on farther. She directed Mason to get out the luggage and put it in the cloakroom. She could have tea in the refreshment-room, but she was to wait at the station for her mistress, who would return to Bristol by an up-train in the course of the afternoon. The maid, although very much astonished, did as she was told. She put the luggage in the cloakroom and had some tea. But up-train after up-train came in, and her mistress did not appear. After the arrival of the last train, she left the luggage where it was, and went to a hotel near the station for the night. This morning she read of the tragedy, and returned to town by the first available train.’
‘Is there nothing to account for your daughter’s sudden change of plan?’
‘Well there is this: According to Jane Mason, at Bristol, Flossie was no longer alone in her carriage. There was a man in it who stood looking out of the farther window so that she could not see his face.’
‘The train was a corridor one, of course?’
‘Yes.’
‘Which side was the corridor?’
‘On the platform side. My daughter was standing in the corridor as she talked to Mason.’
‘And there is no doubt in your mind – excuse me!’ He got up, and carefully straightened the inkstand which was a little askew. ‘Je vous demande pardon,’ he continued, re-seating himself. ‘It affects my nerves to see anything crooked. Strange, is it not? I was saying, monsieur, that there is no doubt in your mind as to this probably unexpected meeting being the cause of your daughter’s sudden change of plan?’
‘It seems the only reasonable supposition.’
‘You have no idea as to who the gentleman in question might be?’
The millionaire hesitated for a moment, and then replied: ‘No – I do not know at all.’
‘Now – as to the discovery of the body?’
‘It was discovered by a young naval officer who at once gave the alarm. There was a doctor on the train. He examined the body. She had been first chloroformed, and then stabbed. He gave it as his opinion that she had been dead about four hours, so it must have been done not long after leaving Bristol – probably between there and Weston, possibly between Weston and Taunton.’
‘And the jewel-case?’
‘The jewel-case, M. Poirot, was missing.’
‘One thing more, monsieur. Your daughter’s fortune – to whom does it pass at her death?’
‘Flossie made a will soon after her marriage, leaving everything to her husband.’ He hesitated for a minute, and then went on: ‘I may as well tell you, Monsieur Poirot, that I regard my son-in-law as an unprincipled scoundrel, and that, by my advice, my daughter was on the eve of freeing herself from him by legal means – no difficult matter. I settled her money upon her in such a way that he could not touch it during her lifetime, but although they have lived entirely apart for some years, she had frequently acceded to his demands for money, rather than face an open scandal. However, I was determined to put an end to this. At last Flossie agreed, and my lawyers were instructed to take proceedings.’
‘And where is Monsieur Carrington?’
‘In town. I believe he was away in the country yesterday, but he returned last night.’
Poirot considered a little while. Then he said: ‘I think that is all, monsieur.’
‘You would like to see the maid, Jane Mason?’
‘If you please.’
Halliday rang the bell, and gave a short order to the footman.
A few minutes later Jane Mason entered the room, a respectable, hard-featured woman, as emotionless in the face of tragedy as only a good servant can be.
‘You will permit me to put a few questions? Your mistress, she was quite as usual before starting yesterday morning? Not excited or flurried?’
‘Oh no, sir!’
‘But at Bristol she was quite different?’
‘Yes, sir, regular upset – so nervous she didn’t seem to know what she was saying.’
‘What did she say exactly?’
‘Well, sir, as near as I can remember, she said: “Mason, I’ve got to alter my plans. Something has happened – I mean, I’m not getting out here after all. I must go on. Get out the luggage and put it in the cloakroom; then have some tea, and wait for me in the station.”
‘“Wait for you here, ma’am?” I asked.
‘“Yes, yes. Don’t leave the station. I shall return by a later train. I don’t know when. It mayn’t be until quite late.”
‘“Very well, ma’am,” I says. It wasn’t my place to ask questions, but I thought it very strange.’
‘It was unlike your mistress, eh?’
‘Very unlike her, sir.’
‘What do you think?’
‘Well, sir, I thought it was to do with the gentleman in the carriage. She didn’t speak to him, but she turned round once or twice as though to ask him if she was doing right.’
‘But you didn’t see the gentleman’s face?’
‘No, sir; he stood with his back to me all the time.’
‘Can you describe him at all?’
‘He had on a light fawn overcoat, and a travelling-cap. He was tall and slender, like and the back of his head was dark.’
‘You didn’t know him?’
‘Oh no, I don’t think so, sir.’
‘It