Thirteen

THE LOST MINE

I laid down my bank book with a sigh.

“It is a curious thing,” I observed, “but my overdraft¹ never seems to grow any less.”

“And it perturbs² you not? Me, if I had an overdraft, never should I close my eyes all night,”

declared Poirot.

“You deal in comfortable balances, I suppose!” I retorted.

“Four hundred and forty- four pounds, four and fourpence,” said Poirot with somecomplacency. “A neat figure, is it not?”

“It must be tact³ on the part of your bank manager. He is evidently acquainted with yourpassion for symmetrical details. What about investing, say, three hundred of it in the Porcupine⁵ oilfields? Their prospectus⁶, which is advertised in the papers today, says that they will pay onehundred per cent dividends⁷ next year.”

“Not for me,” said Poirot, shaking his head. “I like not the sensational⁸. For me the safe, theprudent investment—les rentes, the consols, the—how do you call it?—the conversion⁹.”

“Have you never made a speculative¹⁰ investment?”

“No, mon ami,” replied Poirot severely¹¹. “I have not. And the only shares I own which havenot what you call the gilded¹² edge are fourteen thousand shares in the Burma Mines Ltd.”

Poirot paused with an air of waiting to be encouraged to go on.

“Yes?” I prompted.

“And for them I paid no cash—no, they were the reward of the exercise of my little greycells. You would like to hear the story??Yes?”

“Of course I would.”

“These mines are situated¹³ in the interior of Burma about two hundred miles inland fromRangoon. They were discovered by the Chinese in the fifteenth century and worked down to thetime of the Mohammedan Rebellion, being finally abandoned in the year 1868. The Chineseextracted the rich lead-silver ore from the upper part of the ore body, smelting¹⁴ it for the silveralone, and leaving large quantities of rich lead-bearing slag¹⁵. This, of course, was soon discoveredwhen prospecting¹⁶ work was carried out in Burma, but owing to the fact that the old workings hadbecome full of loose filling and water, all attempts to find the source of the ore proved fruitless.

Many parties were sent out by syndicates, and they dug over a large area, but this rich prize stilleluded them. But a representative of one of the syndicates got on the track of a Chinese familywho were supposed to have still kept a record of the situation of the mine. The present head of thefamily was one Wu Ling.”

“What a fascinating page of commercial romance!” I exclaimed.

“Is it not? Ah, mon ami, one can have romance without golden-haired girls of matchlessbeauty—no, I am wrong; it is auburn hair that so excites you always. You remember—”

“Go on with the story,” I said hastily.

“Eh bien, my friend, this Wu Ling was approached. He was an estimable merchant, muchrespected in the province where he lived. He admitted at once that he owned the documents inquestion, and was perfectly¹⁷ prepared to negotiate for this sale, but he objected to dealing¹⁸ withanyone other than principals. Finally it was arranged that he should journey to England and meetthe directors of an important company.

“Wu Ling made the journey to England in the SS Assunta, and the Assunta docked atSouthampton on a cold, foggy morning in November. One of the directors, Mr.?Pearson, wentdown to Southampton to meet the boat, but owing to the fog, the train down was very muchdelayed, and by the time he arrived, Wu Ling had disembarked and left by special train forLondon. Mr.?Pearson returned to town somewhat annoyed, as he had no idea where the Chinamanproposed to stay. Later in the day, however, the offices of the company were rung up on thetelephone. Wu Ling was staying at the Russell Square Hotel. He was feeling somewhat unwellafter the voyage, but declared himself perfectly able to attend the board meeting on the followingday.

“The meeting of the board took place at eleven o’clock. When half past eleven came, and WuLing had not put in an appearance, the secretary rang up the Russell Hotel. In answer to hisinquiries, he was told that the Chinaman had gone out with a friend about half past ten. It seemedclear that he had started out with the intention of coming to the meeting, but the morning woreaway, and he did not appear. It was, of course, possible that he had lost his way, beingunacquainted with London, but at a late hour that night he had not returned to the hotel.

Thoroughly¹⁹ alarmed now, Mr.?Pearson put matters in the hands of the police. On the followingday, there was still no trace of the missing man, but towards evening of the day after that again, abody was found in the Thames which proved to be that of the ill-fated Chinaman. Neither on thebody, nor in the luggage at the hotel, was there any trace of the papers relating to the mine.

“At this juncture²⁰, mon ami, I was brought into the affair. Mr.?Pearson called upon me. Whileprofoundly shocked by the death of Wu Ling, his chief anxiety was to recover the papers whichwere the object of the Chinaman’s visit to England. The main anxiety of the police, of course,would be to track down the murderer — the recovery of the papers would be a secondaryconsideration. What he wanted me to do was to cooperate with the police while acting²¹ in theinterests of the company.

“I consented readily enough. It was clear that there were two fields of search open to me. Onthe one hand, I might look among the employees of the company who knew of the Chinaman’scoming; on the other, among the passengers on the boat who might have been acquainted with hismission. I started with the second, as being a narrower field of search. In this I coincided withInspector Miller²³, who was in charge of the case—a man altogether different from our friend Japp,conceited, ill-mannered and quite insufferable. Together we interviewed the officers of the ship.

They had little to tell us. Wu Ling had kept much to himself on the voyage. He had been intimatewith but two of the other passengers—one a broken-down European named Dyer who appeared tobear a somewhat unsavoury reputation, the other a young bank clerk named Charles Lester, whowas returning from Hong Kong. We were lucky enough to obtain snapshots of both these men. Atthe moment there seemed little doubt that if either of the two was implicated²⁴, Dyer was the man.

He was known to be mixed up with a gang of Chinese crooks²⁵, and was altogether a most likelysuspect.

“Our next step was to visit the Russell Square Hotel. Shown a snapshot of Wu Ling, theyrecognized him at once. We then showed them the snapshot of Dyer, but to our disappointment,the hall porter declared positively²⁶ that that was not the man who had come to the hotel on the fatalmorning. Almost as an afterthought, I produced the photograph of Lester, and to my surprise theman at once recognized it.

“ ‘Yes, sir,’ he asserted, ‘that’s the gentleman who came in at half past ten and asked forMr.?Wu Ling, and afterwards went out with him.’

“The affair was progressing. Our next move was to interview Mr.?Charles Lester. He met uswith the utmost frankness, was desolated²⁷ to hear of the Chinaman’s untimely death, and puthimself at our disposal in every way. His story was as follows: By arrangement with Wu Ling, hecalled for him at the hotel at ten-thirty. Wu Ling, however, did not appear. Instead, his servantcame, explained that his master had had to go out, and offered to conduct the young man to wherehis master now was. Suspecting nothing, Lester agreed, and the Chinaman procured²⁸ a taxi. Theydrove for some time in the direction of the docks. Suddenly becoming mistrustful, Lester stoppedthe taxi and got out, disregarding the servant’s protests. That, he assured us, was all he knew.

“Apparently²⁹ satisfied, we thanked him and took our leave. His story was soon proved to be asomewhat inaccurate³⁰ one. To begin with, Wu Ling had had no servant with him, either on the boator at the hotel. In the second place, the taxi driver who had driven the two men on that morningcame forward. Far from Lester’s having left the taxi en route, he and the Chinese gentleman haddriven to a certain unsavoury dwelling³¹ place in Limehouse, right in the heart of Chinatown. Theplace in question was more or less well known as an opium³²-den⁴ of the lowest description. The twogentlemen had gone in—about an hour later the English gentleman, whom he identified from thephotograph, came out alone. He looked very pale and ill, and directed the taxi man to take him tothe nearest underground station.

“Inquiries were made about Charles Lester’s standing³³, and it was found that, though bearingan excellent character, he was heavily in debt, and had a secret passion for gambling³⁴. Dyer, ofcourse, was not lost sight of. It seemed just faintly possible that he might have impersonated theother man, but that idea was proved utterly³⁵ groundless. His alibi³⁶ for the whole of the day inquestion was absolutely unimpeachable³⁷. Of course, the proprietor³⁸ of the opium den deniedeverything with Oriental stolidity³⁹. He had never seen Charles Lester. No two gentlemen had beento the place that morning. In any case, the police were wrong: no opium was ever smoked there.

“His denials, however well meant, did little to help Charles Lester. He was arrested for themurder of Wu Ling. A search of his effects was made, but no papers relating to the mine werediscovered. The proprietor of the opium den was also taken into custody⁴⁰, but a cursory⁴¹ raid of hispremises yielded nothing. Not even a stick of opium rewarded the zeal⁴² of the police.

“In the meantime my friend Mr.?Pearson was in a great state of agitation⁴³. He strode up anddown my room, uttering great lamentations.

“ ‘But you must have some ideas, M.?Poirot!’ he kept urging. ‘Surely you must have someideas!’

“ ‘Certainly I have ideas,’ I replied cautiously. ‘That is the trouble—one has too many;therefore they all lead in different directions.’

“ ‘For instance?’ he suggested.

“ ‘For instance—the taxi-driver. We have only his word for it that he drove the two men tothat house. That is one idea. Then—was it really that house they went to? Supposing that they leftthe taxi there, passed through the house and out by another entrance and went elsewhere?’

“Mr.?Pearson seemed struck by that.

“ ‘But you do nothing but sit and think? Can’t we do something?’

“He was of an impatient temperament⁴⁴, you comprehend.

“ ‘Monsieur,’ I said with dignity, ‘It is not for Hercule Poirot to run up and down the evil-smelling streets of Limehouse like a little dog of no breeding. Be calm. My agents are at work.’

“On the following day I had news for him. The two men had indeed passed through the housein question, but their real objective was a small eating house close to the river. They were seen topass in there, and Lester came out alone.

“And then, figure to yourself, Hastings, an idea of the most unreasonable⁴⁵ seized thisMr.?Pearson! Nothing would suit him but that we should go ourselves to this eating house andmake investigations⁴⁶. I argued and prayed, but he would not listen. He talked of disguising himself—he even suggested that I—I should—I hesitate to say it—should shave off my moustache! Yes,rien que ?a! I pointed⁴⁷ out to him that that was an idea ridiculous and absurd. One destroys not athing of beauty wantonly. Besides, shall not a Belgian gentleman with a moustache desire to seelife and smoke opium just as readily as one without a moustache?

“Eh bien, he gave in on that, but he still insisted on his project. He turned up that evening—Mon dieu, what a figure! He wore what he called the ‘pea jacket,’ his chin, it was dirty andunshaved; he had a scarf of the vilest⁴⁸ that offended the nose. And figure to yourself, he wasenjoying himself! Truly, the English are mad! He made some changes in my own appearance. Ipermitted it. Can one argue with a maniac⁴⁹? We started out—after all, could I let him go alone, achild dressed up to act the charades⁵⁰?”

“Of course you couldn’t,” I replied.

“To continue — we arrived. Mr.?Pearson talked English of the strangest. He representedhimself to be a man of the sea. He talked of ‘lubbers’ and ‘focselles’ and I know not what. It was alow little room with many Chinese in it. We ate of peculiar⁵¹ dishes. Ah, Dieu, mon estomac!?”

Poirot clasped that portion of his anatomy⁵² before continuing. “Then there came to us theproprietor, a Chinaman with a face of evil smiles.

“ ‘You gentlemen no likee food here,’ he said. ‘You come for what you likee better. Pieceepipe, eh?’

“Mr.?Pearson, he gave me the great kick under the table. (He had on the boots of the sea too!)And he said: ‘I don’t mind if I do, John. Lead ahead.’

“The Chinaman smiled, and he took us through a door and to a cellar and through a trapdoor,and down some steps and up again into a room all full of divans⁵³ and cushions of the mostcomfortable. We lay down and a Chinese boy took off our boots. It was the best moment of theevening. Then they brought us the opium pipes and cooked the opium pills, and we pretended tosmoke and then to sleep and dream. But when we were alone, Mr.?Pearson called softly to me, andimmediately he began crawling along the floor. We went into another room where other peoplewere asleep, and so on, until we heard two men talking. We stayed behind a curtain and listened.

They were speaking of Wu Ling.

“ ‘What about the papers?’ said one.

“ ‘Mr.?Lester, he takee those,’ answered the other, who was a Chinaman. ‘He say, putteethem allee in safee place—where pleeceman no lookee.’

“ ‘Ah, but he’s nabbed,’ said the first one.

“ ‘He gettee free. Pleeceman not sure he done it.’

“There was more of the same kind of thing, then apparently the two men were coming ourway, and we scuttled⁵⁴ back to our beds.

“ ‘We’d better get out of here,’ said Pearson, after a few minutes had elapsed. ‘This placeisn’t healthy.’

“ ‘You are right, monsieur,’ I agreed. ‘We have played the farce⁵⁵ long enough.’

“We succeeded in getting away, all right, paying handsomely for our smoke. Once clear ofLimehouse, Pearson drew a long breath.

“ ‘I’m glad to get out of that,’ he said. ‘But it’s something to be sure.’

“ ‘It is indeed,’ I agreed. ‘And I fancy that we shall not have much difficulty in finding whatwe want—after this evening’s masquerade.’

“And there was no difficulty whatsoever,” finished Poirot suddenly.

This abrupt⁵⁶ ending seemed so extraordinary that I stared at?him.

“But—but where were they?” I asked.

“In his pocket—tout simplement.”

“But in whose pocket?”

“Mr.?Pearson’s, parbleu!?” Then, observing my look of bewilderment, he continued gently:

“You do not yet see it? Mr.?Pearson, like Charles Lester, was in debt. Mr.?Pearson, like CharlesLester, was fond of gambling. And he conceived the idea of stealing the papers from theChinaman. He met him all right at Southampton, came up to London with him, and took himstraight to Limehouse. It was foggy that day; the Chinaman would not notice where he was going.

I fancy Mr.?Pearson smoked the opium fairly often down there and had some peculiar friends inconsequence. I do not think he meant murder. His idea was that one of the Chinamen shouldimpersonate Wu Ling and receive the money for the sale of the document. So far, so good! But, tothe Oriental mind, it was infinitely⁵⁷ simpler to kill Wu Ling and throw his body into the river, andPearson’s Chinese accomplices⁵⁸ followed their own methods without consulting him. Imagine,then, what you would call the ‘funk bleu’ of M.?Pearson. Someone may have seen him in the trainwith Wu Ling—murder is a very different thing from simple abduction.

“His salvation⁵⁹ lies with the Chinaman who is personating Wu Ling at the Russell SquareHotel. If only the body is not discovered too soon! Probably Wu Ling had told him of thearrangement between him and Charles Lester whereby the latter was to call for him at the hotel.

Pearson sees there an excellent way of diverting suspicion from himself. Charles Lester shall bethe last person to be seen in company with Wu Ling. The impersonator has orders to representhimself to Lester as the servant of Wu Ling, and to bring him as speedily as possible toLimehouse. There, very likely, he was offered a drink. The drink would be suitably drugged, andwhen Lester emerged an hour later, he would have a very hazy⁶⁰ impression of what had happened.

So much was this the case, that as soon as Lester learned of Wu Ling’s death, he loses his nerve,and denies that he ever reached Limehouse.

“By that, of course, he plays right into Pearson’s hands. But is Pearson content? No—mymanner disquiets⁶¹ him, and he determines to complete the case against Lester. So he arranges anelaborate masquerade. Me, I am to be gulled⁶² completely. Did I not say just now that he was as achild acting the charades? Eh bien, I play my part. He goes home rejoicing. But in the morning,Inspector²² Miller arrives on his doorstep. The papers are found on him; the game is up. Bitterly heregrets permitting himself to play the farce with Hercule Poirot! There was only one real difficultyin the affair.”

“What was that?” I demanded curiously⁶³.

“Convincing Inspector Miller! What an animal, that! Both obstinate⁶⁴ and imbecile. And in theend he took all the credit!”

“Too bad,” I cried.

“Ah, well, I had my compensations. The other directors of the Burma Mines Ltd awarded mefourteen thousand shares as a small recompense for my services. Not so bad, eh? But wheninvesting money, keep, I beg of you, Hastings, strictly⁶⁵ to the conservative. The things you read inthe paper, they may not be true. The directors of the Porcupine — they may be so manyMr.?Pearsons!”

 

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