Black Coffee by Agatha Christie Page A

turmoil. Well,” she continued, speaking more quickly, “you know what servants are, Monsieur Poirot. They positively delight in funerals! They prefer a death to a wedding, I do believe. Now, dear Dr Graham! He is so kind - such a comfort. A really clever doctor, and of course he's so fond of Barbara. I think it's a pity that Richard doesn't seem to care for him, but - what was I saying? Oh yes, Dr Graham. So young. And he quite cured my neuritis last year. Not that I am often ill. Now, this rising generation doesn't seem to me to be at all strong. There was poor Lucia last night, having to come out from dinner feeling faint. Of course, poor child, she's a mass of nerves, and what else can you expect, with Italian blood in her veins? Though she was not so bad, I remember, when her diamond necklace was stolen -”
    Miss Amory paused for breath. Poirot, while she was speaking, had taken out his cigarette-case and was about to light a cigarette, but he paused and took the opportunity to ask her, “Madame Amory's diamond necklace was stolen? When was this, mademoiselle?”
    Miss Amory assumed a thoughtful expression. “Let me see, it must have been - yes, it was two months ago - just about the same time that Richard had such a quarrel with his father.”
    Poirot looked at the cigarette in his hand. “You permit that I smoke, madame?” he asked, and on receiving a smile and a gracious nod of assent, he took a box of matches from his pocket, lit his cigarette, and looked at Miss Amory encouragingly.
    When that lady made no effort to resume speaking, Poirot prompted her. “I think you were saying that Monsieur Amory quarrelled with his father,” he suggested.
    “Oh, it was nothing serious,” Miss Amory told him. “It was only over Richard's debts. Of course, all young men have debts! Although, indeed, Claud himself was never like that. He was always so studious, even when he was a lad. Later, of course, his experiments always used up a lot of money. I used to tell him he was keeping Richard too short of money, you know. But, yes, about two months ago they had quite a scene, and what with that, and Lucia's necklace missing, and her refusing to call in the police, it was a very upsetting time. And so absurd, too! Nerves, all nerves!”
    “You are sure that my smoke is not deranging you, mademoiselle?” asked Poirot, holding up his cigarette.
    “Oh, no, not at all,” Miss Amory assured him. “I think gentlemen ought to smoke.”
    Only now noticing that his cigarette had failed to light properly, Poirot retrieved his box of matches from the table in front of him. “Surely, it is a very unusual thing for a young and beautiful woman to take the loss of her jewels so calmly?” he asked, as he lit his cigarette again, carefully replacing two dead matches in the box, which he then returned to his pocket.
    “Yes, it is odd. That's what I call it,” Miss Amory agreed. “Distinctly odd! But there, she didn't seem to care a bit. Oh dear, here I am gossiping on about things which can't possibly interest you, Monsieur Poirot.”
    “But you interest me enormously, mademoiselle,” Poirot assured her. “Tell me, when Madame Amory came out from dinner last night, feeling faint, did she go upstairs?”
    “Oh, no,” replied Caroline Amory. “She came into this room. I settled her here on the sofa, and then I went back to the dining-room, leaving Richard with her. Young husbands and wives, you know, Monsieur Poirot! Not that young men are nearly so romantic as they used to be when I was a girl! Oh dear! I remember a young fellow called Aloysius Jones. We used to play croquet together. Foolish fellow - foolish fellow! But there, I'm wandering from the point again. We were talking about Richard and Lucia. A very handsome couple they make, don't you think so, Monsieur Poirot? He met her in Italy, you know - on the Italian lakes - last November. It was love at first sight. They were married within a week. She was an orphan, alone in