The CASE of the CHILDREN’S BISCUITS: an Hercule Poirot story

There are times when I do not understand Hercule Poirot at all. I mean, he sometimes chooses cases of the most trivial nature, and on the most illogical of grounds. A case in point happened at the time of last season’s Wimbeldon men’s final. Some very important aircraft plans were stolen that day, and what did Poirot do? He took on a case involving biscuits stolen from some children! What kind of professionalism is that I ask?1

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Poirot is not a physical type of individual; not an athlete that is. But he does enjoy being a spectator at certain types of athletic events; soccer and tennis predominantly. Last Wimbeldon season Poirot and I were the house guests of Mr. and Mrs. Ian MacDonald. Mr. MacDonald is, as you are probably aware, the executive manager of Hawker Aircraft Ltd. And his wife Jeanvieve, [Belgian born and nee 'van Brugge'] who had known Poirot since the before war, often included the famous Hercule Poirot in her social events.3

The MacDonalds were Wimbeldon debenture ticket holders, and had asked Poirot, Miss Lemon and myself to accompany them to the final between the British tennis star F.J. Perry and last season’s winner, Australian J.H. Crawford. I had attended Wimbeldon on two previous occassions; but never at centre court for a final. It was a great privilege and treat.4

Miss Lemon and Poirot sat either side of Mrs MacDonald. I sat between Miss Lemon and Mr. MacDonald. During breaks in play Poirot and Mrs. MacDonald conversed in French. Miss Lemon, whose lingusitic skills far surpass mine, also conversed in French; so the three francophones had a delighful time chatting away about the state of play.5

Mr. MacDonald and I discussed the game, especially Perry’s dominant second set; and the influence of world events on Hawker’s recent purchase of the Gloster Aircraft Company. Poirot only travels by air in commercial cabin airliners. But I am always happy to take a joyride over the Home Counties in an open cockpit, and had been up in several Hawker dual seaters, compliments of our current host. So, I was able to keep abreast of his business chatter.6

The final score, of 6-3, 6-0, 7-5, all done in just 72 sizzling minutes, was a delicious victory for the UK. After the celebrations and awarding of the trophies, Poirot rode with the MacDonalds, while I drove Miss Lemon in my new Singer Nine. Poirot always enjoyed riding in my previous sports car. To my dismay, Miss Lemon found this newer, more powerful model not to her liking. Her displeasure unsettled my mood, and I must admit to being slightly touchy when we arrived at the MacDonald residence in Richmond Park.7

Though I am certain that the MacDonalds could easily have afforded a more upmarket address, the modestly afluent suburb of Richmond Park did offer the distinct advantage of being very near the Hawker Aircraft factory at Kingston-on-Thames. Their home, though large, was not pretentious. It did require a staff of four however; the valet doubling as chauffeur, maid, cook, and a governess for the three girls. 8

The girls, aged nine, seven and five, had stayed home during the finals; and were to be treated to a garden party for some of their friends as a reward. They had their own two-room play house at the back of the rear gardens. It was there that I and Felicity found Poirot and Mrs. MacDonald, up to their kneecaps in crying children. Someone it seemed, once the bewailing had subsided and we began to get the story clearly, had eaten all the shortbread biscuits baked by the cook the previous night for the children’s party. And, it transpired, had drunk all of the fresh rasberry cordial the cook had blended.9

To Poirot; who while outwardly stiff and formal with children, had an avuncular heart; this was a crime beyond reckoning. One which demanded his full attention. He was about to apply his ‘little grey cells’ to the mystery when Ramsey, Mr. MacDonald’s batman in the RFC/RAF, and now his civilian valet, came trotting up to our group urgently requesting Mr. Poirot’s presence in the master’s office. There had been, it seemed, another crime, and Scotland Yard had been called in, post haste. Poirot trundled off, and I followed. Felicity stayed with Mrs. MacDonald, the distraught children and their governness, Miss. Rhys-Jones.10

It seems that while the MacDonalds were away attending Wimbledon, the maid had caught sight of a stranger making his way through the back yard towards the road. There being no adult male in the house to investigate or pursue the stranger, she had wisely phoned the local constabulary. They had arrived soon after us, and upon assisting Mr. MacDonald in a search of the house, had found the door of his office safe ajar. A check of the disturbed contents brought to light the absence of an envelope containing the specifications of an aircraft prototype that Hawker Aircraft Ltd was developing. This was serious indeed, industrial espionage at the very least, and military espionage at the worst. 11

Poirot asked a few questions, received his answers, and the assurance that Chief Inspector Japp would soon be arriving. When begged by Mr. MacDonald to assist with the case Poirot did the strangest thing. He begged off.12

“I am already engaged in a case of great importance, Monsieur MacDonald, and I cannot disappoint my clients. I have every confidence that the Inspecter Japp will prove most worthy of your trust. I expect he will soon have the culprit in hand.”13

Turning from his dismayed host he walked calmly out of the office and back towards the children’s playhouse. I abjectly begged our host’s pardon, and joined my associate in the back yard. The children had been calmed now. In addition to the seven children, all somewhat subdued, Mrs. MacDonald and Miss Rhys-Jones, the maid Vivien, had joined us. Poirot proceeded to ask Miss Rhys-Jones exactly what she had done the previous night.14

“I put the children to bed at exactly eight-thirty. At nine p.m. I carried the tin of shortbreads and pitcher of rasberry cordial that the cook had prepared out to the playhouse. It was expected to be a cool-ish night, and the bicuits and cordial would keep nicely until this afternoon’s play. I set the tin and pitcher on the side table. I then checked to see that the play house was in order, and that sufficient chairs were set out. I then closed up the play house and returned to the main house. I finished my other duties at ten p.m. and retired for the night.” 15

“Bon. That is very clear, Miss Rhys-Jones. Now, please tell me what transpired today.”16

“I awoke the children at seven a.m., they bathed, dressed and had breakfast in the kitchen. The MacDonalds and the house guests were breakfasting in the main dinningroom. The adults then departed for Wimbledon. The four of us then cleared the main dinningtable, and re-set it for the children’s luncheon. There were four other girls invited; as you can see about us now. We then entertained the guests in the interior sunroom until it was time for the children’s luncheon.”17

“After luncheon, and a clean up, it was time to adjourn to the playhouse for the afternoon’s activities, and a mid-afternoon snack of shortbreads that the cook had baked as a special treat. When we entered the play house it was quickly discovered that the tin had been opened, all the bicuits eaten, and that the cordial had been consumed. It was at this time that you returned, and Mrs. MacDonald was informed of the children’s distress.” 18

“Thank you mademoiselle. May I observe that you have a most interesting accent, Miss Rhys-Jones. You are evidently Welsh, but there are American tonalities to your speech.”19

“That is correct Mr. Poirot. My family sent me abroad to study. I attended Mount Holyoke College in Massachusetts.”20

“En, bien, I see, thank you. Now, Miss Vivien,” Poirot said, turning to the maid, “when did you see this stranger leaving the property?21

“As the children were cleaning up from breakfast, sir. I was upstairs remaking beds when I espied the stranger leaving via the back gate. I called out to him through an open window, but he did not stop. There being no man in the house, and Miss Rhys-Jones being engaged with all the children I straightway phoned the local police.”22

“You did not communicate your observation to Miss Rhys-Jones?”23

“No sir. She was already on her way out of the main house to the playhouse with the children. I thought it best to be on to the police first of all. By then you all had returned, and I reported immediately to Mr. MacDonald.”24

“You acted wisely, mademoiselle. It think your quick actions will have aided the police measurably. Now, Hastings, let us view the scene of the crime. Miss Rhys-Jones amd Mrs. MacDonald, will you assist us?”25

The four of us entered the first of two playrooms. About the size of a standard parlor, the furniture was appropriate in size for pre-teen children. There was a trunk full of dolls, two tables, one for colouring and the other holding the biscuit tin, pitcher and glasses, three cane chairs, and a small bookshelf. The bookshelf held two small sets of books; four of the popular Tintin books by Belgian artist Georges Remi; and Lucy Fitch Perkins’ series entitled The Twins, along with a copy of The Secret Garden,by Frances Hodgson Burnett. One of the Tintin books lay on the table, it was ‘Tintin in the Land of the Soviets’. Poirot scanned the room, and then asked Miss Rhys-Jones what was out of place, and whether any displacement had occurred upon entering the room after lunch.26

“Mr. Poirot, The largest chair, which belongs to our Antoinette, has been moved to the table. The tin lay open and empty as you see it. The same with the pitcher. The glass with dregs of juice in it was sitting very close to the edge of the table, but I moved it back for safety. All else is normal…. No, wait. The Twin’s book set is out of order, and the Tintin book was not out.” She reached to adjust the sets of books. Poirot stopped her peremptorily, “No, touch nothing else. The police may wish to dust for fingerprints or take photographs.”27

“Of the theft of biscuits?” I asked in astonishment. “Surely not, Poirot!”28

He did not deem it necessary to reply; but rather turned and walked back to the main house as he heard a police car bell sound in the driveway. Entering the office he greeted Chief Inspector Japp; “Bon Jour, Mon ami. How goes the chase?”29

“Very well, Poirot, very well indeed. Thanks to Miss Vivien’s timely phone call, and her description of the stranger, we have already apprehended someone. He is being brought here now.”30

His words were prophetic, as just then two beefy constables led in a man in his late forties. Slightly disheveled, he’d obviously put up resistence to arrest, he looked around him wildly in defiance.31

“Van Wamberghe!” Mr. MacDonald exclaimed.32

“You know this man?” asked Japp.33

“Yes. Yes, of course. He has worked for Hawker Aircraft since its founding and at Sopwith before that. He is a design engineer.”34

"Has he been here before?" Poirot asked Mr. MacDonald.35

"Why yes, on business several times."36

"And he has been in this office, oui?"37

"Yes, of course....Oh my...he would have seen me open the safe on one occassion or another."38

Poirot nodded at this information then asked the constables, “Where was he taken?” 39

“At the far side of the Richland Park green, sir. He was acting suspiciously, trying to hide among some bushes like. He fit the description being circulated, so we hailed him. He ran. We gave chase. And here we are, sir.”40

Poirot had been carefully scrutinizing the man since Mr. MacDonald had uttered his name. 41

“Please to check his pockets, Inspector Japp.”42

Japp did so, discovering an empty envelope in the inside pocket of the man’s suit jacket; and biscuit crumbs in an outside pocket. Now Poirot said to Japp; “A few questions if I may, Inspector.” Walking to within inches of the prisoner he looked him in the eye until the man became nervous and turned his face aside. In what I later learned was Flemish, Poirot demanded sternly, “Hoe heet U'je?”43

“Ik heet Sebastien van Wamberghe”, the man addmitted, also in Flemish. As he had already been identified by Mr. MacDonald, there was no use in lying.44

Poirot then asked, “Vanwaar zijt U’ben je?” 45

“Van Brugge, de Assebroek dystrykt”, the man responded forlornly.46

Poirot smiled deeply, turned on his heels and trundled out of the house and walked straight to the playhouse. We all followed like ducklings. Entering the first room he took a book from the bookshelf. It was ‘The Belgian Twins’. Turning to Japp he handed the book to him. “ Eh, voila! We have our biscuit thief. I would look inside the dust jacket, perhaps, Chief Inspector.” Japp did so, and extracted two folded sheets of paper.47

“Good grief!” exclaimed Mr. MacDonald, “The missing aircraft specs! If you please, Inspector, I would like to place these secret specifications back in my safe forthwith!”48

“Indeed you may, Mr. MacDonald, while we shall take this villain away for questioning.”49

While we all stood around amazed, Poirot simply turned to the children and invited them to play. What an unforgettable sight, watching the immaculate Poirot playing ‘blind-man’s-bluff’ with a bunch if giggling girls. Felicity was so taken by the spectacle that she joined in. Eventually, we were all drawn into the merriment to the absolute delight of the seven girls. The merriment was crowned by the cook entering the scene with a freshly baked batch of shortbreads; with enough for the adults as well. 50

That eveing, after the girls had been put to bed, the MacDonalds, myself, Felicity Lemon and Poirot were enjoying a nightcap in the drawing room. “I must say, Poirot,” stated Mr. MacDonald, “I am mystified how you managed that bit of detection. However did you know where to find the missing papers?”51

Poirot lingered reflectively over his very dry sherry for a moment, then replied, “I use my little grey cells, and prioritised. That is why I focused on the children’s missing biscuits. Everything else fell into place. Is this not clear to you, Madame MacDonald?”52

“It is indeed, Hercule,” she allowed with a knowing smile.53

“Well, it isn’t clear to me, Poirot,” I said, perhaps a little too sourly; for Felicity poked me in the ribs and frowned. I was much chastened, for she had frowned at me several times that day, and I was finding it a very unpleasant experience, though I couldn’t explain why.54

“It was absolutely elementary, my dear Hastings. The biscuits were baked and placed in the cottage that night. The safe was broken into sometime before eight fifteen in the morning. The thief fled out the back gate. He was observed and hailed by the maid when he was between the cottage and the gate. Miss Rhy-Jones and the children were approaching the front of the cottage as he was leaving, unobserved by them."55

"When he was apprehended he did not have the papers with him, though, he still had the envelope. He therefore had hidden the papers somewhere, with the intention of retrieving them later and carry them away in the original envelope. Knowing that he had been spotted by the maid he obviously did not wish to be apprehended with the documents on his person. However, the envelope did have the company crest and Mr. MacDonald’s managerial title on it, as you may have observed. Being a Hawker employee he could have had a plausible reason for having a company envelope on his person.”56

“All the shortbread and cordial had been consumed. That would have been the work of several hours for a single person. Therefore, the thief had hidden in the play house for part of the night, and into the early morning. He then snuck into the house and proceedeed to open the safe. Once we adults had departed for Wimbledon he was free to leave the office and exit the property. However, to cover his escape he hid the papers for later retrieval. But where?”57

“This was the easiest. He is a Blegian. Can you not guess how he reasoned? Mr. MacDonald, how long had the culprit worked for your company?”58

“Why since 1915. He, like yourelf, Poirot, had been a refugee from Belgium. He had worked for the Fabrique Nationale prior to coming to Sopwith, and then on to Hawker.”59

“He is, I am ashamed to say,” interjected an embarrased Mrs. MacDonald, “a distant relative, on my mother’s side. He used that connection to obtain his employment. Ian and I had only recently married, and he was off at the war. I doubt that Mr. van Wamberghe was properly vetted in that topsy-turvy era.”60

“I would not blame a company oversight for Mr. van Wamberghe’s espionage. His motivations were very deep.61

“How so, Poirot?” I asked.62

“Where did he hide the papers, Mon ami?” Poirot asked me.63

“Why in a book dust jacket.”64

“Which book?”65

“Why….why the Belgian Twins, I believe.”66

“Very good Hastings. The Twins books are an American publication; perhaps bought by Miss Rhys-Jones during her sojourn there, n'est pas? Our culprit is human enough to be hungry while he waits his opportunity to crack the safe. So, he eats the biscuits and drinks the cordial during the course of the night. Perhaps a little bored, in the early morning light he reads a Tintim comic book; a Belgian comic book, perhaps purchased by Madame MacDonald out of sentiment, oui?”67

“Oui, Monsieur Hercule. Its humour is very Belgian, mais non?” 68

“Indeed, Madame Jeanvieve. And our human culprit is consistent in his logic. As he seeks a hiding place he is drawn to the book entitled ‘The Belgian Twins’; a story most nationalistic and sentimental.”69

“But what does that have to do with his motivation?” I asked, still confused.70

Our Monsieur van Wamberghe is ‘de Vlamingen’, a Flemish Belgian. I am a francophone Belgian, though as a former Belgian policeman I had to be bilingual in my own homeland. Many Vlamingen have no wish to be associated with a French-cultured Belgium. They want to be independent or part of Holland. They are Flemish nationalists. In the Great War the Germans encouraged Flemish nationalism as a means of undermining Belgian resistence to the brutal German occupation. And now, who would benefit from a knowledge of your prototype, Mr. MacDonald?”71

“Why, the new Nazi government of Germany, Mr. Poirot. Indeed, given the recent butchery of the ‘Night of the Long Knives’, it is clear that hoodlums and criminals run that nation. I don’t believe I am speaking out of turn by prophesying war between Germany and Britian in the near future. Knowledge of our aircraft industry would be very useful to them. I know for a fact that they already have a resurgent pilot training program masquerading as Lufthansa pilot recruitment. I for one have no difficulty, with hindsight unfortunately, of seeing van Wamberghe’s Flemish nationalism as a tool of the Nazi’s.”72

“Tragically this is so. I fully expect Inspector Japp’s interrogation to confirm our speculations, though I suspect that the Foreign Office will require that we breath not the word of this.”73

"But why, Poirot,” I asked, “didn’t you just focus on the theft from the safe? Why prioritise the children's biscuits?”74

Poirot drained the last sip of his sherry, looked briefly at Miss Lemon and then meaningfully at myself before answering. “The needs of the children, Hastings, must always come before the demands of the business.”75

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The End77