Death in the Clouds Read Online Free Page B

but she was not sure of this. She had not observed anyone handling anything that could be likened to a blowpipe. No—in answer to Poirot—she had not noticed a wasp in the car.
    Lady Horbury was dismissed. She was succeeded by the Honourable Venetia Kerr.
    Miss Kerr’s evidence was much the same as that of her friend. She gave her name as Venetia Anne Kerr, and her address as Little Paddocks, Horbury, Sussex. She herself was returning from the South of France. As far as she was aware she had never seen the deceased before. She had noticed nothing suspicious during the journey. Yes, she had seen some of the passengers farther down the car striking at a wasp. One of them, she thought, had killed it. That was after luncheon had been served.
    Exit Miss Kerr.
    ‘You seem very much interested in that wasp, M. Poirot.’
    ‘The wasp is not so much interesting as suggestive, eh?’
    ‘If you ask me,’ said Japp, changing the subject, ‘those two Frenchmen are the ones in this! They were just across the gangway from the Morisot woman.They’re a seedy-looking couple, and that battered old suitcase of theirs is fairly plastered with outlandish foreign labels. Shouldn’t be surprised if they’d been to Borneo or South America, or wherever it is. Of course, we can’t get a line on the motive, but I dare say we can get that from Paris. We’ll have to get the Sûreté to collaborate over this. It’s their job more than ours. But, if you ask me, those two toughs are our meat.’
    Poirot’s eyes twinkled a little.
    ‘What you say is possible, certainly, but as regards some of your points you are in error, my friend. Those two men are not toughs—or cut-throats, as you suggest. They are on the contrary two very distinguished and learned archaeologists.’
    ‘Go on—you’re pulling my leg!’
    ‘Not at all. I know them by sight perfectly. They are M. Armand Dupont and his son, M. Jean Dupont. They have returned not long ago from conducting some very interesting excavations in Persia at a site not far from Susa.’
    ‘Go on!’
    Japp made a grab at a passport.
    ‘You’re right, M. Poirot,’ he said, ‘but you must admit they don’t look up to much, do they?’
    ‘The world’s famous men seldom do! I myself— moi, qui vous parle —I have before now been taken for a hairdresser!’
    ‘You don’t say so,’ said Japp with a grin. ‘Well, let’s have a look at our distinguished archaeologists.’
    M. Dupont père declared that the deceased was quite unknown to him. He had noticed nothing of what had happened on the journey over as he had been discussing a very interesting point with his son. He had not left his seat at all. Yes, he had noticed a wasp towards the end of lunch. His son had killed it.
    M. Jean Dupont confirmed this evidence. He had noticed nothing of what went on round about him. The wasp had annoyed him and he had killed it. What had been the subject of the discussion? The prehistoric pottery of the Near East.
    Mr Clancy, who came next, came in for rather a bad time. Mr Clancy, so felt Inspector Japp, knew altogether too much about blowpipes and poisoned darts.
    ‘Have you ever owned a blowpipe yourself?’
    ‘Well—I—er—well, yes, as a matter of fact I have.’
    ‘Indeed!’ Inspector Japp pounced on the statement.
    Little Mr Clancy fairly squeaked with agitation.
    ‘You must not—er—misunderstand; my motives are quite innocent. I can explain…’
    ‘Yes, sir, perhaps you will explain.’
    ‘Well, you see, I was writing a book in which the murder was committed that way—’
    ‘Indeed—’
    Again that threatening intonation. Mr Clancy hurried on:
    ‘It was all a question of fingerprints—if you understand me. It was necessary to have an illustration illustrating the point I meant—I mean—the fingerprints—the position of them—the position of them on the blowpipe, if you understand me, and having noticed such a thing—in the Charing Cross Road it was—at least two years ago