{"id":2393,"date":"2026-01-03T22:27:05","date_gmt":"2026-01-03T22:27:05","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/one-two-buckle-my-shoe-christie-agatha\/"},"modified":"2026-01-03T22:27:05","modified_gmt":"2026-01-03T22:27:05","slug":"one-two-buckle-my-shoe-christie-agatha","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/one-two-buckle-my-shoe-christie-agatha\/","title":{"rendered":"One, Two, Buckle My Shoe – Christie, Agatha"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Book Preview<\/h3>\n
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ONE,<\/span> TWO<\/span>, BUCKLE<\/span> MY<\/span> SHOE<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/h2>\n<\/div>\n
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I<\/span><\/p>\n

M<\/span><\/span>r. Morley was not in the best of tempers at breakfast. He complained of the bacon, wondered why the coffee had to have the appearance of liquid mud, and remarked that breakfast cereals were each one worse than the last.<\/p>\n

Mr. Morley was a small man with a decided jaw and a pugnacious chin. His sister, who kept house for him, was a large woman rather like a female grenadier. She eyed her brother thoughtfully and asked whether the bath water had been cold again.<\/p>\n

Rather grudgingly, Mr. Morley said it had not.<\/p>\n

He glanced at the paper and remarked that the Government seemed to be passing from a state of incompetence to one of positive imbecility!<\/p>\n

Miss Morley said in a deep bass voice that it was Disgraceful!<\/p>\n

As a mere woman she had always found whatever Government happened to be in power distinctly useful. She urged her brother on to explain why<\/span> the Government\u2019s present policy was inconclusive, idiotic, imbecile and frankly suicidal!<\/p>\n

When Mr. Morley had expressed himself fully on these points, he had a second cup of the despised coffee and unburdened himself of his true grievance.<\/p>\n

\u201cThese girls,\u201d he said, \u201care all the same! Unreliable, self-centred\u2014not to be depended on in any way.\u201d<\/p>\n

Miss Morley said interrogatively:<\/p>\n

\u201cGladys?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve just had the message. Her aunt\u2019s had a stroke and she\u2019s had to go down to Somerset.\u201d<\/p>\n

Miss Morley said:<\/p>\n

\u201cVery trying, dear, but after all hardly the girl\u2019s fault.<\/span>\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Morley shook his head gloomily.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow do I know the aunt has<\/span> had a stroke? How do I know the whole thing hasn\u2019t been arranged between the girl and that very unsuitable young fellow she goes about with? That young man is a wrong \u2019un if I ever saw one! They\u2019ve probably planned some outing together for today.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, no, dear, I don\u2019t think Gladys would do a thing like that. You know, you\u2019ve always found her very conscientious.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, yes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAn intelligent girl and really keen on her work, you said.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, yes, Georgina, but that was before this undesirable young man came along. She\u2019s been quite different lately\u2014quite<\/span> different\u2014absentminded\u2014upset\u2014nervy.\u201d<\/p>\n

The Grenadier produced a deep sigh. She said:<\/p>\n

\u201cAfter all, Henry, girls do fall in love. It can\u2019t be helped.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Morley snapped:<\/p>\n

\u201cShe oughtn\u2019t to let it affect her efficiency as my secretary. And today, in particular, I\u2019m extremely busy! Several very<\/span> important patients. It is most<\/span> trying!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sure it must be extremely vexing, Henry. How is the new boy shaping, by the way?\u201d<\/p>\n

Henry Morley said gloomily:<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s the worst I\u2019ve had yet! Can\u2019t get a single name right and has the most uncouth manners. If he doesn\u2019t improve I shall sack him and try again. I don\u2019t know what\u2019s the good of our education nowadays. It seems to turn out a collection of nitwits who can\u2019t understand a single thing you say to them, let alone remember it.\u201d<\/p>\n

He glanced at his watch.<\/p>\n

\u201cI must be getting along. A full morning, and that Sainsbury Seale woman to fit in somewhere as she is in pain. I suggested that she should see Reilly, but she wouldn\u2019t hear of it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course not,\u201d said Georgina loyally.<\/p>\n

\u201cReilly\u2019s very able\u2014very able indeed. First-class diplomas. Thoroughly up-to-date in his work.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHis hand shakes,\u201d said Miss Morley. \u201cIn my opinion he drinks.<\/span>\u201d<\/p>\n

Her brother laughed, his good temper restored. He said:<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll be up for a sandwich at half past one as usual.\u201d<\/p>\n

II<\/span><\/p>\n

At the Savoy Hotel Mr. Amberiotis was picking his teeth with a toothpick and grinning to himself.<\/p>\n

Everything was going very nicely.<\/p>\n

He had had his usual luck. Fancy those few kind words of his to that idiotic hen of a woman being so richly repaid. Oh! well\u2014cast your bread upon the waters.<\/span> He had always been a kindhearted man. And<\/span> generous! In the future he would be able to be even more generous. Benevolent visions floated before his eyes. Little Dimitri \u2026 And the good Constantopopolus struggling with his little restaurant \u2026 What pleasant surprises for them\u2026.<\/p>\n

The toothpick probed unguardedly and Mr. Amberiotis winced. Rosy visions of the future faded and gave way to apprehensions of the immediate future. He explored tenderly with his tongue. He took out his notebook. Twelve o\u2019clock. 58, Queen Charlotte Street.<\/p>\n

He tried to recapture his former exultant mood. But in vain. The horizon had shrunk to six bare words:<\/p>\n

\u201c58, Queen Charlotte Street. Twelve o\u2019clock.\u201d<\/p>\n

III<\/span><\/p>\n

At the Glengowrie Court Hotel, South Kensington, breakfast was over. In the lounge, Miss Sainsbury Seale was sitting talking to Mrs. Bolitho. They occupied adjacent tables in the dining room and had made friends the day after Miss Sainsbury Seale\u2019s arrival a week ago.<\/p>\n

Miss Sainsbury Seale said:<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know, dear, it really has<\/span> stopped aching! Not a twinge! I think perhaps I\u2019ll ring up\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Mrs. Bolitho interrupted her.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow don\u2019t be foolish, my dear. You go to the dentist and get it over.<\/span>\u201d<\/p>\n

Mrs. Bolitho was a tall, commanding female with a deep voice. Miss Sainsbury Seale was a woman of forty odd with indecisively bleached hair rolled up in untidy curls. Her clothes were shapeless and rather artistic, and her pince-nez were always dropping off. She was a great talker.<\/p>\n

She said now wistfully:<\/p>\n

\u201cBut really, you know, it doesn\u2019t ache at all.<\/span>\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNonsense, you told me you hardly slept a wink last night.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I didn\u2019t\u2014no, indeed\u2014but perhaps, now,<\/span> the nerve has actually died.<\/span>\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll the more reason to go to the dentist,\u201d said Mrs. Bolitho firmly. \u201cWe all like to put it off, but that\u2019s just cowardice. Better make up one\u2019s mind and get it over!<\/span>\u201d<\/p>\n

Something hovered on Miss Sainsbury Seale\u2019s lips. Was it the rebellious murmur of: \u201cYes, but it\u2019s not your<\/span> tooth!\u201d<\/p>\n

All she actually said, however, was:<\/p>\n

\u201cI expect you\u2019re right. And Mr. Morley is such a careful man and really never hurts one at all.<\/span>\u201d<\/p>\n

IV<\/span><\/p>\n

The meeting of the Board of Directors was over. It had passed off smoothly. The report was good. There should have been no discordant note. Yet to the sensitive Mr. Samuel Rotherstein there had been something,<\/span> some nuance in the chairman\u2019s manner.<\/p>\n

There had been, once or twice, a shortness, an acerbity, in his tone\u2014quite uncalled for by the proceedings.<\/p>\n

Some secret worry, perhaps? But somehow Rotherstein could not connect a secret worry with Alistair Blunt. He was such an unemotional man. He was so very normal. So essentially British.<\/p>\n

There was, of course, always liver \u2026 Mr. Rotherstein\u2019s liver gave him a bit of trouble from time to time. But he\u2019d never known Alistair to complain of his liver. Alistair\u2019s health was as sound as his brain and his grasp of finance. It was not annoying heartiness\u2014just quiet well-being.<\/p>\n

And yet\u2014there was something<\/span>\u2014once or twice the chairman\u2019s hand had wandered to his face. He had sat supporting his chin. Not his normal attitude. And once or twice he had seemed actually\u2014yes, distrait.<\/span><\/p>\n

They came out of the boardroom and passed down the stairs.<\/p>\n

Rotherstein said:<\/p>\n

\u201cCan\u2019t give you a lift, I suppose?\u201d<\/p>\n

Alistair Blunt smiled and shook his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy car\u2019s waiting.\u201d He glanced at his watch. \u201cI\u2019m not going back to the city.\u201d He paused. \u201cAs a matter of fact I\u2019ve got an appointment with the dentist.\u201d<\/p>\n

The mystery was solved.<\/p>\n

V<\/span><\/p>\n

Hercule Poirot descended from his taxi, paid the man and rang the bell of 58, Queen Charlotte Street.<\/p>\n

After a little delay it was opened by a boy in page boy\u2019s uniform with a freckled face, red hair, and an earnest manner.<\/p>\n

Hercule Poirot said:<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Morley?\u201d<\/p>\n

There was in his heart a ridiculous hope that Mr. Morley might have been called away, might be indisposed, might not be seeing patients today \u2026 All in vain. The page boy drew back, Hercule Poirot stepped inside, and the door closed behind him with the quiet remorselessness of unalterable doom.<\/p>\n

The boy said: \u201cName, please?\u201d<\/p>\n

Poirot gave it to him, a door on the right of the hall was thrown open and he stepped into the waiting room.<\/p>\n

It was a room furnished in quiet good taste and, to Hercule Poirot, indescribably gloomy. On the polished (reproduction) Sheraton table were carefully arranged papers and periodicals. The (reproduction) Hepplewhite sideboard held two Sheffield plated candlesticks and an \u00e9pergne.<\/span> The mantelpiece held a bronze clock and two bronze vases. The windows were shrouded by curtains of blue velvet. The chairs were upholstered in a Jacobean design of red birds and flowers.<\/p>\n

In one of them sat a military-looking gentleman with a fierce moustache and a yellow complexion. He looked at Poirot with an air of one considering some noxious insect. It was not so much his gun he looked as though he wished he had with him, as his Flit spray. Poirot, eyeing him with distaste, said to himself, \u201cIn verity, there are some Englishmen who are altogether so unpleasing and ridiculous that they should have been put out of their misery at birth.\u201d<\/p>\n

The military gentleman, after a prolonged glare, snatched up The Times,<\/span> turned his chair so as to avoid seeing Poirot, and settled down to read it.<\/p>\n

Poirot picked up Punch.<\/span><\/p>\n

He went through it meticulously, but failed to find any of the jokes funny.<\/p>\n

The page boy came in and said, \u201cColonel Arrow-Bumby?\u201d\u2014and the military gentleman was led away.<\/p>\n

Poirot was speculating on the probabilities of there really being such a name, when the door opened to admit a young man of about thirty.<\/p>\n

As the young man stood by the table, restlessly flicking over the covers of magazines, Poirot looked at him sideways. An unpleasant and dangerous looking young man, he thought, and not impossibly a murderer. At any rate he looked far more like a murderer than any of the murderers Hercule Poirot had arrested in the course of his career.<\/p>\n

The page boy opened the door and said to midair:<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Peerer.\u201d<\/p>\n

Rightly construing this as a summons to himself, Poirot rose. The boy led him to the back of the hall and round the corner to a small lift in which he took him up to the second floor. Here he led him along a passage, opened a door which led into a little anteroom, tapped at a second door; and without waiting for a reply opened it and stood back for Poirot to enter.<\/p>\n

Poirot entered to a sound of running water and came round the back of the door to discover Mr. Morley washing his hands with professional gusto at a basin on the wall.<\/p>\n

VI<\/span><\/p>\n

There are certain humiliating moments in the lives of the greatest of men. It has been said that no man is a hero to his valet. To that may be added that few men are heroes to themselves at the moment of visiting their dentist.<\/p>\n

Hercule Poirot was morbidly conscious of this fact.<\/p>\n

He was a man who was accustomed to have a good opinion of himself. He was Hercule Poirot, superior in most ways to other men. But in this moment he was unable to feel superior in any way whatever. His morale was down to zero. He was just that ordinary, craven figure, a man afraid of the dentist\u2019s chair.<\/p>\n

Mr. Morley had finished his professional ablutions. He was speaking now in his encouraging professional manner.<\/p>\n

\u201cHardly as warm as it should be, is it, for the time of year?\u201d<\/p>\n

Gently he led the way to the appointed spot\u2014to The Chair! Deftly he played with its head rest, running it up and down.<\/p>\n

Hercule Poirot took a deep breath, stepped up, sat down and relaxed his head to Mr. Morley\u2019s professional fiddlings.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere,\u201d said Mr. Morley with hideous cheerfulness. \u201cThat quite comfortable? Sure?\u201d<\/p>\n

In sepulchral tones Poirot said that it was quite comfortable.<\/p>\n

Mr. Morley swung his little table nearer, picked up his little mirror, seized an instrument and prepared to get on with the job.<\/p>\n

Hercule Poirot grasped the arms of the chair, shut his eyes and opened his mouth.<\/p>\n

\u201cAny special trouble?\u201d Mr. Morley inquired.<\/p>\n

Slightly indistinctly, owing to the difficulty of forming consonants while keeping the mouth open, Hercule Poirot was understood to say that there was no special trouble. This was, indeed, the twice yearly overhaul that his sense of order and neatness demanded. It was, of course, possible that there might be nothing to do \u2026 Mr. Morley might, perhaps, overlook that second tooth from the back from which those twinges had come \u2026 He might<\/span>\u2014but it was unlikely\u2014for Mr. Morley was a very good dentist.<\/p>\n

Mr. Morley passed slowly from tooth to tooth, tapping and probing, murmuring little comments as he did so.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat filling is wearing down a little\u2014nothing serious, though. Gums are in pretty good condition, I\u2019m glad to see.\u201d A pause at a suspect, a twist of the probe\u2014no, on again, false alarm. He passed to the lower side. One, two\u2014on to three?\u2014No\u2014\u201cThe dog,\u201d Hercule Poirot thought in confused idiom, \u201chas seen the rabbit!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA little trouble here. Not been giving you any pain? Hm, I\u2019m surprised.\u201d The probe went on.<\/p>\n

Finally Mr. Morley drew back, satisfied.<\/p>\n

\u201cNothing very serious. Just a couple of fillings\u2014and a trace of decay on that upper molar. We can get it all done, I think, this morning.\u201d<\/p>\n

He turned on a switch and there was a hum. Mr. Morley un-hooked the drill and fitted a needle to it with loving care.<\/p>\n

\u201cGuide me,\u201d he said briefly, and started the dread work.<\/p>\n

It was not necessary for Poirot to avail himself of this permission, to raise a hand, to wince, or even to yell. At exactly the right moment, Mr. Morley stopped the drill, gave the brief command \u201cRinse,\u201d applied a little dressing, selected a new needle and continued. The ordeal of the drill was terror rather than pain.<\/p>\n

Presently, while Mr. Morley was preparing the filling, conversation was resumed.<\/p>\n

\u201cHave to do this myself this morning,\u201d he explained. \u201cMiss Nevill has been called away. You remember Miss Nevill?\u201d<\/p>\n

Poirot untruthfully assented.<\/p>\n

\u201cCalled away to the country by the illness of a relative. Sort of thing that does<\/span> happen on a busy day. I\u2019m behindhand already this morning. The patient before you was late. Very vexing when that happens. It throws the whole morning out. Then I have to fit in an extra patient because she is in pain. I always allow a quarter of an hour in the morning in case that happens. Still, it adds to the rush.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Morley peered into his little mortar as he ground. Then he resumed his discourse.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll tell you something that I\u2019ve always noticed, M. Poirot. The big people\u2014the important people\u2014they\u2019re always on time\u2014never keep you waiting. Royalty, for instance. Most punctilious. And these big City men are the same. Now this morning I\u2019ve got a most important man coming\u2014Alistair Blunt!\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Morley spoke the name in a voice of triumph.<\/p>\n

Poirot, prohibited from speech by several rolls of cotton wool and a glass tube that gurgled under his tongue, made an indeterminate noise.<\/p>\n

Alistair Blunt! Those were the names that thrilled nowadays. Not Dukes, not Earls, not Prime Ministers. No, plain Mr. Alistair Blunt. A man whose face was almost unknown to the general public\u2014a man who only figured in an occasional quiet paragraph. Not a spectacular person.<\/p>\n

Just a quiet nondescript Englishman who was the head of the greatest banking firm in England. A man of vast wealth. A man who said Yes and No to Governments. A man who lived a quiet, unobtrusive life and never appeared on a public platform or made speeches. Yet a man in whose hands lay supreme power.<\/p>\n

Mr. Morley\u2019s voice still held a reverent tone as he stood over Poirot ramming the filling home.<\/p>\n

\u201cAlways comes to his appointments absolutely on time. Often sends his car away and walks back to his office. Nice, quiet, unassuming fellow. Fond of golf and keen on his garden. You\u2019d never dream he could buy up half Europe! Just like you and me.\u201d<\/p>\n

A momentary resentment rose in Poirot at this offhand coupling of names. Mr. Morley was a good dentist, yes, but there were<\/span> other good dentists in London. There was only one<\/span> Hercule Poirot.<\/p>\n

\u201cRinse, please,\u201d said Mr. Morley.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s the answer, you know, to their Hitlers and Mussolinis and all the rest of them,\u201d went on Mr. Morley, as he proceeded to tooth number two. \u201cWe don\u2019t make a fuss over here. Look how democratic our King and Queen are. Of course, a Frenchman like you, accustomed to the Republican idea\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI ah nah a Frahah\u2014I ah\u2014ah a Benyon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTchut\u2014tchut\u2014\u201d said Mr. Morley sadly. \u201cWe must have the cavity completely dry.\u201d He puffed hot air relentlessly on it.<\/p>\n

Then he went on:<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t realize you were a Belgian. Very interesting. Very fine man, King Leopold, so I\u2019ve always heard. I\u2019m a great believer in the tradition of Royalty myself. The training is good, you know. Look at the remarkable way they remember names and faces. All the result of training\u2014though of course some people have a natural aptitude for that sort of thing. I, myself, for instance. I don\u2019t remember names, but it\u2019s remarkable the way I never forget a face. One of my patients the other day, for instance\u2014I\u2019ve seen that patient before. The name meant nothing to me\u2014but I said to myself at once, \u2018Now where have I met you before?\u2019 I\u2019ve not remembered yet\u2014but it will come back to me\u2014I\u2019m sure of it. Just another rinse, please.\u201d<\/p>\n

The rinse accomplished, Mr. Morley peered critically into his patient\u2019s mouth.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I think that seems all right. Just close\u2014very gently \u2026 Quite comfortable? You don\u2019t feel the filling at all? Open again, please. No, that seems quite all right.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hercule Poirot descended, a free man.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, good-bye, M. Poirot. Not detected any criminals in my house, I hope?\u201d<\/p>\n

Poirot said with a smile:<\/p>\n

\u201cBefore I came up, every one looked to me like a criminal! Now, perhaps, it will be different!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, yes, a great deal of difference between before and after! All the same, we dentists aren\u2019t such devils now as we used to be! Shall I ring for the lift for you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, no, I will walk down.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAs you like\u2014the lift is just by the stairs.\u201d<\/p>\n

Poirot went out. He heard the taps start to run as he closed the door behind him.<\/p>\n

He walked down the two flights of stairs. As he came to the last bend, he saw the Anglo-Indian Colonel being shown out. Not at all a bad-looking man, Poirot reflected mellowly. Probably a fine shot who had killed many a tiger. A useful man\u2014a regular outpost of Empire.<\/p>\n

He went into the waiting room to fetch his hat and stick which he had left there. The restless young man was still there, somewhat to Poirot\u2019s surprise. Another patient, a man, was reading the Field.<\/span><\/p>\n

Poirot studied the young man in his newborn spirit of kindliness. He still looked very fierce\u2014and as though he wanted to do a murder\u2014but not really a murderer, thought Poirot kindly. Doubtless, presently, this young man would come tripping down the stairs, his ordeal over, happy and smiling and wishing no ill to anyone.<\/p>\n

The page boy entered and said firmly and distinctly:<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Blunt.\u201d<\/p>\n

The man at the table laid down the Field<\/span> and got up. A man of middle height, of middle age, neither fat nor thin. Well-dressed, quiet.<\/p>\n

He went out after the boy.<\/p>\n

One of the richest and most powerful men in England\u2014but he still had to go to the dentist just like anybody else, and no doubt felt just the same as anybody else about it!<\/p>\n

These reflections passing through his mind, Hercule Poirot picked up his hat and stick and went to the door. He glanced back as he did so, and the startled thought went through his mind that that young man must have very bad toothache indeed.<\/p>\n

In the hall Poirot paused before the mirror there to adjust his moustaches, slightly disarranged as the result of Mr. Morley\u2019s ministrations.<\/p>\n

He had just completed their arrangement to his satisfaction when the lift came down again and the page boy emerged from the back of the hall whistling discordantly. He broke off abruptly at the sight of Poirot and came to open the front door for him.<\/p>\n

A taxi had just drawn up before the house and a foot was protruding from it. Poirot surveyed the foot with gallant interest.<\/p>\n

A neat ankle, quite a good quality stocking. Not a bad foot. But he didn\u2019t like the shoe. A brand new patent leather shoe with a large gleaming buckle. He shook his head.<\/p>\n

Not chic\u2014very provincial!<\/p>\n

The lady got out of the taxi, but in doing so she caught her other foot in the door and the buckle was wrenched off. It fell tinkling on to the pavement. Gallantly, Poirot sprang forward and picked it up, restoring it with a bow.<\/p>\n

Alas! Nearer fifty than forty. Pince-nez. Untidy yellow-grey hair\u2014unbecoming clothes\u2014those depressing art greens! She thanked him, dropping her pince-nez, then her handbag.<\/p>\n

Poirot, polite if no longer gallant, picked them up for her.<\/p>\n

She went up the steps of 58, Queen Charlotte Street, and Poirot interrupted the taxi driver\u2019s disgusted contemplation of a meagre tip.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou are free, hein?<\/span>\u201d<\/p>\n

The taxi driver said gloomily: \u201cOh, I\u2019m free.<\/span>\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo am I,\u201d said Hercule Poirot. \u201cFree of care!\u201d<\/p>\n

He saw the taxi man\u2019s air of deep suspicion.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, my friend, I am not drunk. It is that I have been to the dentist and I need not go again for six months. It is a beautiful thought.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n

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