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THE MYSTERIOUS AFFAIR AT STYLES
The papers； of course； had been full of the tragedy。 Glaring headlines；
sandwiched biographies of every member of the household； subtle
innuendoes； the usual familiar tag about the police having a clue。
Nothing was spared us。 It was a slack time。 The war was momentarily
inactive； and the newspapers seized with avidity on this crime in
fashionable life： 〃The Mysterious Affair at Styles〃 was the topic of the
moment。
Naturally it was very annoying for the Cavendishes。 The house was
constantly besieged by reporters； who were consistently denied admission；
but who continued to haunt the village and the grounds； where they lay in
wait with cameras； for any unwary members of the household。 We all
lived in a blast of publicity。 The Scotland Yard men came and went；
examining； questioning； lynx…eyed and reserved of tongue。 Towards
what end they were working； we did not know。 Had they any clue； or
would the whole thing remain in the category of undiscovered crimes？
After breakfast； Dorcas came up to me rather mysteriously； and asked
if she might have a few words with me。
〃Certainly。 What is it； Dorcas？〃
〃Well； it's just this； sir。 You'll be seeing the Belgian gentleman to…day
perhaps？〃 I nodded。 〃Well； sir； you know how he asked me so particular
if the mistress； or anyone else； had a green dress？〃
〃Yes； yes。 You have found one？〃 My interest was aroused。
〃No； not that； sir。 But since then I've remembered what the young
gentlemen〃John and Lawrence were still the 〃young gentlemen〃 to
Dorcas〃call the 'dressing…up box。' It's up in the front attic； sir。 A great
chest； full of old clothes and fancy dresses； and what not。 And it came to
me sudden like that there might be a green dress amongst them。 So； if
you'd tell the Belgian gentleman〃
〃I will tell him； Dorcas；〃 I promised。
〃Thank you very much； sir。 A very nice gentleman he is； sir。 And
quite a different class from them two detectives from London； what goes
prying about； and asking questions。 I don't hold with foreigners as a rule；
but from what the newspapers say I make out as how these brave Belges
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THE MYSTERIOUS AFFAIR AT STYLES
isn't the ordinary run of foreigners； and certainly he's a most polite spoken
gentleman。〃
Dear old Dorcas！ As she stood there； with her honest face upturned to
mine； I thought what a fine specimen she was of the old…fashioned servant
that is so fast dying out。
I thought I might as well go down to the village at once； and look up
Poirot； but I met him half…way； coming up to the house； and at once gave
him Dorcas's message。
〃Ah； the brave Dorcas！ We will look at the chest； although but no
matterwe will examine it all the same。〃
We entered the house by one of the windows。 There was no one in
the hall； and we went straight up to the attic。
Sure enough； there was the chest； a fine old piece； all studded with
brass nails； and full to overflowing with every imaginable type of garment。
Poirot bundled everything out on the floor with scant ceremony。
There were one or two green fabrics of varying shades； but Poirot shook
his head over them all。 He seemed somewhat apathetic in the search； as
though he expected no great results from it。 Suddenly he gave an
exclamation。
〃What is it？〃
〃Look！〃
The chest was nearly empty； and there； reposing right at the bottom；
was a magnificent black beard。
〃Oho！〃 said Poirot。 〃Oho！〃 He turned it over in his hands； examining
it closely。 〃New；〃 he remarked。 〃Yes； quite new。〃
After a moment's hesitation； he replaced it in the chest； heaped all the
other things on top of it as before； and made his way briskly downstairs。
He went straight to the pantry； where we found Dorcas busily polishing
her silver。
Poirot wished her good morning with Gallic politeness； and went on：
〃We have been looking through that chest； Dorcas。 I am much
obliged to you for mentioning it。 There is； indeed； a fine collection there。
Are they often used； may I ask？〃
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THE MYSTERIOUS AFFAIR AT STYLES
〃Well； sir； not very often nowadays； though from time to time we do
have what the young gentlemen call 'a dress…up night。' And very funny it is
sometimes； sir。 Mr。 Lawrence； he's wonderful。 Most comic！ I shall
never forget the night he came down as the Char of Persia； I think he
called ita sort of Eastern King it was。 He had the big paper knife in his
hand； and 'Mind； Dorcas；' he says； 'you'll have to be very respectful。 This
is my specially sharpened scimitar； and it's off with your head if I'm at all
displeased with you！' Miss Cynthia； she was what they call an Apache； or
some such namea Frenchified sort of cut…throat； I take it to be。 A real
sight she looked。 You'd never have believed a pretty young lady like that
could have made herself into such a ruffian。 Nobody would have known
her。〃
〃These evenings must have been great fun；〃 said Poirot genially。 〃I
suppose Mr。 Lawrence wore that fine black beard in the chest upstairs；
when he was Shah of Persia？〃
〃He did have a beard； sir；〃 replied Dorcas； smiling。 〃And well I
know it； for he borrowed two skeins of my black wool to make it with！
And I'm sure it looked wonderfully natural at a distance。 I didn't know as
there was a beard up there at all。 It must have been got quite lately； I
think。 There was a red wig； I know； but nothing else in the way of hair。
Burnt corks they use mostlythough 'tis messy getting it off again。 Miss
Cynthia was a nigger once； and； oh； the trouble she had。〃
〃So Dorcas knows nothing about that black beard；〃 said Poirot
thoughtfully； as we walked out into the hall again。
〃Do you think it is *THE one？〃 I whispered eagerly。
Poirot nodded。
〃I do。 You notice it had been trimmed？〃
〃No。〃
〃Yes。