IX. The Disappearance of Mr. Davenheim

           PoirotandIwereexpectingouroldfriendInspectorJappofScotlandYardtotea.Weweresittingroundthetea-tableawaitinghisarrival.Poirothadjustfinishedcarefullystraighteningthecupsandsaucerswhichourlandladywasinthehabitofthrowing,ratherthanplacing,onthetable.Hehadalsobreathedheavilyonthemetalteapot,andpolisheditwithasilkhandkerchief.Thekettlewasontheboil,andasmallenamelsaucepanbesideitcontainedsomethick,sweetchocolatewhichwasmoretoPoirot’spalatethanwhathedescribedas“yourEnglishpoison.”Asharp“rat-tat”soundedbelow,andafewminutesafterwardsJappenteredbriskly.

           “HopeI’mnotlate,”hesaidashegreetedus.“Totellthetruth,IwasyarningwithMiller,themanwho’sinchargeoftheDavenheimcase.”

           Iprickedupmyears.ForthelastthreedaysthepapershadbeenfullofthestrangedisappearanceofMr.Davenheim,seniorpartnerofDavenheimandSalmon,thewell-knownbankersandfinanciers.OnSaturdaylasthehadwalkedoutofhishouse,andhadneverbeenseensince.IlookedforwardtoextractingsomeinterestingdetailsfromJapp.

           “Ishouldhavethought,”Iremarked,“thatitwouldbealmostimpossibleforanyoneto‘disappear’nowadays.”

           Poirotmovedaplateofbreadandbuttertheeighthofaninch,andsaidsharply:

           “Beexact,myfriend.Whatdoyoumeanby‘disappear’?Towhichclassofdisappearanceareyoureferring?”

           “Aredisappearancesclassifiedandlabelled,then?”Ilaughed.

           Jappsmiledalso.Poirotfrownedatusboth.