Agatha Christie Fullscreen Death in the Clouds (1935)

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Certainly I recognize it." Mr Clancy swelled with passionate pride and gratification. "This object, gentlemen, is the native thorn shot from a blowpipe by certain tribes - er - I cannot be exactly certain now if it is South African tribes or whether it is the inhabitants of Borneo which I have in mind.

But that is undoubtedly a native dart that has been aimed by a blowpipe, and I strongly suspect that on the tip -"

"- is the famous arrow poison of the South American Indians," finished Hercule Poirot. And he added, "Mais enfin!

Est-ce que c'est possible?"

"It is certainly very extraordinary," said Mr Clancy, still full of blissful excitement. "As I say, most extraordinary. I am myself a writer of detective fiction, but actually to meet, in real life -"

Words failed him.

The aeroplane heeled slowly over, and those people who were standing up staggered a little.

The plane was circling round in its descent to Croydon aerodrome.

Chapter 3

The steward and the doctor were no longer in charge of the situation.

Their place was usurped by the rather absurd-looking little man in the muffler.

He spoke with an authority and a certainty of being obeyed that no one thought of questioning.

He whispered to Mitchell and the latter nodded, and - pushing his way through the passengers - he took up his stand in the doorway leading past the wash rooms to the front car.

The plane was running along the ground now.

When it finally came to a stop, Mitchell raised his voice:

"I must ask you, ladies and gentlemen, to keep your seats and remain here until somebody in authority takes charge.

I hope you will not be detained long."

The reasonableness of this order was appreciated by most of the occupants of the car, but one person protested shrilly.

"Nonsense!" cried Lady Horbury angrily. "Don't you know who I am?

I insist on being allowed to leave at once!"

"Very sorry, my lady. Can't make exceptions."

"But it's absurd - absolutely absurd." Cicely tapped her foot angrily. "I shall report you to the company.

It's outrageous that we should be shut up here with a dead body."

"Really, my dear," Venetia Kerr spoke with her well-bred drawl, "too devastating, but I fancy we'll have to put up with it." She herself sat down and drew out a cigarette case. "Can I smoke now, steward?"

The harassed Mitchell said: "I don't suppose it matters now, miss."

He glanced over his shoulder.

Davis had disembarked the passengers from the front car by the emergency door and had now gone in search of orders.

The wait was not a long one, but it seemed to the passengers as though half an hour, at least, had passed before an erect, soldierly figure in plain clothes, accompanied by a uniformed policeman, came hurriedly across the aerodrome and climbed into the plane by the door that Mitchell held open.

"Now, then, what's all this?" demanded the newcomer in brisk official tones.

He listened to Mitchell and then to Doctor Bryant, and he flung a quick glance over the crumpled figure of the dead woman. He gave an order to the constable and then addressed the passengers:

"Will you please follow me, ladies and gentlemen?"

He escorted them out of the plane and across the aerodrome, but he did not enter the usual customs department. Instead, he brought them to a small private room.

"I hope not to keep you waiting any longer than is unavoidable, ladies and gentlemen."

"Look here, inspector," said Mr James Ryder. "I have an important business engagement in London."

"Sorry, sir."

"I am Lady Horbury. I consider it absolutely outrageous that I should be detained in this manner!"

"I'm sincerely sorry, Lady Horbury. But, you see, this is a very serious matter.

It looks like a case of murder."

"The arrow poison of the South American Indians," murmured Mr Clancy deliriously, a happy smile on his face.

The inspector looked at him suspiciously.

The French archaeologist spoke excitedly in French, and the inspector replied to him slowly and carefully in the same language.

Venetia Kerr said: "All this is a most crashing bore, but I suppose you have your duty to do, inspector," to which that worthy replied,

"Thank you, madam," in accents of some gratitude. He went on: "If you ladies and gentlemen will remain here, I want a few words with Doctor - er - Doctor -"

"Bryant, my name is."

"Thank you.

Just come this way with me, doctor."

"May I assist at your interview?"

It was the little man with the mustaches who spoke.

The inspector turned on him, a sharp retort on his lips. Then his face changed suddenly.

"Sorry, M. Poirot," he said. "You're so muffled up I didn't recognize you.