Closed Casket: The New Hercule Poirot Mystery (Hercule Poirot Mystery 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

because he is a man. Where is the sense in that? I would make a far better viscount than him. Frankly, a buttered teacake would make a better viscount than Harry. Well? Do you think it’s fair?’
    ‘I have never given it any thought,’ I said truthfully.
    She turned to Poirot. ‘What about you?’
    ‘If you were to have the title immediately, would you then say, “Now that I have what I want, I am completely happy and content?”’
    Claudia raised her chin haughtily. ‘I would say no such thing, for fear of sounding like a silly child from a fairy tale. Besides, who says I am unhappy? I am very happy, and I was talking not about contentment but about what is
fair.
Are you not supposed to have a brilliant mind, Monsieur Poirot? Perhaps you left it in London.’
    ‘No, it travelled with me, mademoiselle. And if you are one of the few people in this world who can sincerely say, “I am very happy”, then I promise you this: life has been fairer to you than it has to most people.’
    She scowled. ‘I was talking about me and my brother and
nobody else
. If you cared about playing fair, you would confine your assessment of the situation to the two of us. Instead, you sneakily introduce a nameless crowd of thousands to support your argument—because you know you can win only by distortion!’
    The door opened again and a dark-haired man entered, dressed for dinner. Claudia clasped her hands together and sighed rapturously, as if she had feared he might not arrive but here he was, to save her from some terrible fate. ‘Darling!’
    The contrast between her demeanour now and her rudeness to me and Poirot could not have been greater.
    The newcomer was handsome and clean-cut, with a ready and engaging smile and almost-black hair that fell over his forehead on one side. ‘There you are, dearest one!’ he said as Claudia ran into his embrace. ‘I have been looking everywhere for you.’ He had the most perfect teeth I had ever seen. It was hard to believe that they grew naturally in his mouth. ‘And here, by the look of it, are some of our guests—how marvellous! Welcome, one and all.’
    ‘You are in no position to welcome anybody, darling,’ Claudia told him with mock sternness. ‘You are a guest too, remember.’
    ‘Let’s say I did it on your behalf, then.’
    ‘Impossible. I should have said something quite different.’
    ‘You have been saying it most eloquently, mademoiselle,’ Poirot reminded her.
    ‘Have you been divinely beastly to them, dearest one? Take no notice of her, gentlemen.’ He extended his hand. ‘Kimpton. Dr Randall Kimpton. Pleasure to meet you both.’ He had a remarkable manner when speaking—so much so that I noticed it straight away, and I am sure Poirot did too. Kimpton’s eyes seemed to flare and subside as his lips moved. These wide-eyed flares were only seconds apart, and appeared to want to convey enthusiastic emphasis. One was left with the impression that every third or fourth word he uttered was a source of delight to him.
    I could have sworn that Poirot had told me Claudia’s chap was American. There was no trace of an accent, or at least not one that I could detect. As I was thinking this, Poirot said, ‘It is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dr Kimpton. But … Lady Playford told me that you were from Boston in America?’
    ‘Indeed I am. I expect you mean that I don’t sound American. Well, I should hope not! I took the opportunity to divest myself of all the unsavoury trappings the moment I landed at the University of Oxford. It doesn’t do to sound anything but English at Oxford, you know.’
    ‘Randall has a talent for divesting himself of trappings, don’t you, darling?’ said Claudia rather sharply.
    ‘What? Oh!’ Kimpton looked unhappy. His demeanour had completely changed. So had hers, for that matter. She stared at him as might a schoolteacher at a disobedient pupil, apparently waiting for him to speak. Finally he said quietly, ‘Dearest