Lord Edgware Dies Page 0,28
interfere in the least with my train of thought.'
'People were beginning to laugh,' I murmured.
'That has no importance.'
I did not quite agree. I have a horror of doing anything conspicuous. The only thing that affects Poirot is the possibility of the damp or the heat affecting the set of his famous moustache.
'We will take a taxi,' said Poirot, waving his stick.
One drew up by us, and Poirot directed it to go Genevieve in Moffat Street.
Genevieve turned out to be one of those establishments where one nondescript hat and a scarf display themselves in a glass box downstairs and where the real centre of operations is one floor up a flight of musty-smelling stairs.
Having climbed the stairs we came to a door with 'Genevieve. Please Walk In' on it, and having obeyed this command we found ourselves in a small room full of hats while an imposing blonde creature came forward with a suspicious glance at Poirot.
'Miss Driver?' asked Poirot.
'I do not know if Modom can see you. What is your business, please?'
'Please tell Miss Driver that a friend of Miss Adams would like to see her.'
The blonde beauty had no need to go on this errand. A black velvet curtain was violently agitated and a small vivacious creature with flaming red hair emerged.
'What's that?' she demanded.
'Are you Miss Driver?'
'Yes. What's that about Carlotta?'
'You have heard the sad news?'
'What sad news?'
'Miss Adams died in her sleep last night. An overdose of veronal.'
The girl's eyes opened wide.
'How awful!' she exclaimed. 'Poor Carlotta. I can hardly believe it. Why, she was full of life yesterday.'
'Nevertheless it is true, Mademoiselle,' said Poirot. 'Now see - it is just on one o'clock. I want you to do me the honour of coming out to lunch with me and my friend. I want to ask you several questions.'
The girl looked him up and down. She was a pugilistic little creature. She reminded me in some ways of a fox terrier.
'Who are you?' she demanded bluntly.
'My name is Hercule Poirot. This is my friend Captain Hastings.'
I bowed.
Her glance travelled from one to the other of us.
'I've heard of you,' she said abruptly. 'I'll come.'
She called to the blonde:
'Dorothy?'
'Yes, Jenny.'
'Mrs Lester's coming in about that Rose Descartes model we're making for her. Try the different feathers. Bye-bye, shan't be long, I expect.'
She picked up a small black hat, affixed it to one ear, powdered her nose furiously, and then looked at Poirot.
'Ready,' she said abruptly.
Five minutes afterwards we were sitting in a small restaurant in Dover Street. Poirot had given an order to the waiter and cocktails were in front of us.
'Now,' said Jenny Driver. 'I want to know the meaning of all this. What has Carlotta been getting herself mixed up in?'
'She had been getting herself mixed up in something, then, Mademoiselle?'
'Now then, who is going to ask the questions, you or me?'
'My idea was that I should,' said Poirot, smiling. 'I have been given to understand that you and Miss Adams were great friends.'
'Right.'
'Eh bien, then I ask you, Mademoiselle, to accept my solemn assurance that what I do, I am doing in the interests of your dead friend. I assure you that that is so.'
There was a moment's silence while Jenny Driver considered this question. Finally she gave a quick assenting nod of the head.
'I believe you. Carry on. What do you want to know?'
'I understand, Mademoiselle, that your friend lunched with you yesterday.'
'She did.'
'Did she tell you what her plans were for last night?'
'She didn't exactly mention last night.'
'But she said something?'
'Well, she mentioned something that maybe is what you're driving at. Mind you, she spoke in confidence.'
'That is understood.'
'Well, let me see now. I think I'd better explain things in my own words.'
'If you please, Mademoiselle.'
'Well, then, Carlotta was excited. She isn't often excited. She's not that kind. She wouldn't tell me anything definite, said she'd promised not to, but she'd got something on. Something I gathered, in the nature of a gigantic hoax.'
'A hoax?'
'That's what she said. She didn't say how or when or where. Only - ' She paused, frowning. 'Well - you see - Carlotta's not the kind of person who enjoys practical jokes or hoaxes or things of that kind. She's one of those serious, nice-minded, hard-working girls. What I mean is, somebody had obviously put her up to this stunt. And I think - she didn't say so, mind - '
'No, no, I quite understand. What was it that you thought?'
'I thought - I was sure - that