Читать книгу Towards Zero - Агата Кристи, Agatha Christie, Detection Club The - Страница 17

Lord Cornelly, that rich and eccentric peer, was sitting at the monumental desk which was his especial pride and pleasure. It had been designed for him at immense expense and the whole furnishing of the room was subordinated to it. The effect was terrific and only slightly marred by the unavoidable addition of Lord Cornelly himself, an insignificant and rotund little man completely dwarfed by the desk’s magnificence.

Into this scene of City splendour there entered a blonde secretary, also in harmony with the luxury furnishings.

Gliding silently across the floor, she laid a slip of paper before the great man.

Lord Cornelly peered down at it.

‘MacWhirter? MacWhirter? Who’s he? Never heard of him. Has he got an appointment?’

The blonde secretary indicated that such was the case.

‘MacWhirter, eh? Oh! MacWhirter! That fellow! Of course! Send him in. Send him in at once.’

Lord Cornelly chuckled gleefully. He was in high good-humour.

Throwing himself back in his chair, he stared up into the dour unsmiling face of the man he had summoned to an interview.

‘You’re MacWhirter, eh? Angus MacWhirter?’

‘That’s my name.’

MacWhirter spoke stiffly, standing erect and unsmiling.

‘You were with Herbert Clay? That’s right, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

Lord Cornelly began to chuckle again.

‘I know all about you. Clay got his driving-licence endorsed, all because you wouldn’t back him up and swear he was going at twenty miles an hour! Livid about it he was!’ The chuckle increased. ‘Told us all about it in the Savoy Grill. “That damned pigheaded Scot!” That’s what he said! Went on and on. D’you know what I was thinking?’

‘I’ve not the least idea.’

MacWhirter’s tone was repressive. Lord Cornelly took no notice. He was enjoying his remembrance of his own reactions.

‘I thought to myself: “That’s the kind of chap I could do with! Man who can’t be bribed to tell lies.” You won’t have to tell lies for me. I don’t do my business that way. I go about the world looking for honest men—and there are damned few of them!’

The little peer cackled with shrill laughter, his shrewd monkey-like face wrinkled with mirth. MacWhirter stood solidly, not amused.

Lord Cornelly stopped laughing. His face became shrewd, alert.

‘If you want a job, MacWhirter, I’ve got one for you.’

‘I could do with a job,’ said MacWhirter.

‘It’s an important job. It’s a job that can only be given to a man with good qualifications—you’ve got those all right—I’ve been into that—and to a man who can be trusted—absolutely.’

Lord Cornelly waited. MacWhirter did not speak.