[adapted]

by
Agatha Christie

I was standing at the window of Poirot’s rooms, looking out at the street below, doing nothing. “That’s strange,” I said suddenly under my breath.

“What is it, my friend?” asked Poirot calmly, from deep in his comfortable chair.

“Work it out, Poirot, from these facts! Here is a young lady, well dressed — smart hat, fine furs. She walks slowly and looks up at the houses. She does not know that three men and a middle-aged woman are following her. An errand boy has just joined them. He points at the girl and waves his arms. What is happening here? Is the girl a thief, and are the people following her detectives getting ready to arrest her? Or are they the bad ones, planning to attack an innocent person? What does the great detective say?”

“The great detective, my friend, chooses, as always, the simplest way. He gets up to see for himself.” And my friend joined me at the window.

In a minute he let out a small laugh. “As usual, your facts are mixed with your romantic ideas that never change. That is Miss Mary Marvell, the film star. She is being followed by a group of admirers who have recognized her. And, by the way, my dear Hastings, she knows it very well!”

I laughed. “So everything is clear! But you get no points for that, Poirot. It was only a matter of recognition.”

“In truth! And how many times have you seen Mary Marvell on the screen, my dear?”

I thought. “Maybe about twelve times.”
“And I — one time! But I recognize her, and you do not.”

“She looks so different,” I answered a bit weakly.
“Ah! Damn!” cried Poirot. “Do you expect her to walk around in the streets of London in a cowboy hat, or with bare feet, and with a bunch of curls, like an Irish girl? With you, it is always the unimportant things! Remember the case of the dancer, Valerie Saintclair.”

I raised my shoulders, a little annoyed.

“But do not worry, my friend,” said Poirot, calming down. “Not everyone can be like Hercule Poirot! I know that well.”
“You really have the best opinion of yourself of anyone I ever knew!” I cried, feeling both amused and annoyed.

“What can you do? When someone is unique, they know it! And other people think the same — even, if I am not wrong, Miss Mary Marvell.”
“What?”
“Without a doubt. She is coming here.”
“How do you know that?”

“Very simple. This street is not aristocratic, my friend! In it there is no fashionable doctor, no fashionable dentist — and there is not even a fashionable hat maker! But there is a fashionable detective. Yes, my friend, it is true — I have become the fashion, the latest thing! One says to another: ‘What? You have lost your gold pencil case? You must go to the little Belgian. He is amazing! Everyone goes! Run!’ And they arrive! In crowds, my friend! With very foolish problems!” A bell rang below. “What did I tell you? That is Miss Marvell.”

As usual, Poirot was right. After a short wait, the American film star was shown in, and we stood up.

Mary Marvell was surely one of the most popular film actresses. She had only recently arrived in England with her husband, Gregory B. Rolf, who was also a film actor. They got married about a year ago in the United States and this was their first visit to England. They got a great welcome. Everyone was ready to go crazy about Mary Marvell, her wonderful clothes, her furs, her jewels, above all, one jewel, the great diamond that was called, to match its owner, “the Western Star.” Many things, true and untrue, had been written about this famous stone, which was said to be insured for the huge sum of fifty thousand pounds.

All these details went quickly through my mind as I joined with Poirot to greet our beautiful client.

Miss Marvell was small and thin, very pale and looking like a young girl, with big, innocent blue eyes like a child.

Poirot pulled a chair forward for her, and she started talking right away.

“You will probably think I am very silly, Mr. Poirot, but Lord Cronshaw told me last night how well you solved the mystery of his nephew’s death, and I felt that I just must have your advice. I think it is only a silly trick — Gregory says so — but it is just worrying me to death.”

She stopped to take a breath. Poirot smiled to encourage her.

“Please continue, Madam. You understand, I still do not understand.”

“It’s these letters.” Miss Marvell opened her handbag, and took out three envelopes which she gave to Poirot.

The second one looked at them very carefully.

“Cheap paper — the name and address are printed carefully. Let us see the inside.” He took out the paper that was inside.

I went to him, and I leaned over his shoulder. The writing was one sentence, printed carefully, like on the envelope. It said: “The great diamond that is the left eye of the god must go back to where it came from.”

The second letter was written in precisely the same words, but the third was more clear: “You have been warned. You did not obey. Now the diamond will be taken from you. At the full of the moon, the two diamonds which are the left and right eye of the god will return. So it is written.”

“I thought the first letter was a joke,” said Miss Marvell. “When I got the second letter, I started to worry. The third letter came yesterday, and I felt that, after all, the problem might be more serious than I had thought.”

“I see they did not come by mail, these letters.”
“No; they were left by hand — by a Chinese man. That is what scares me.”
“Why?”
“Because it was from a Chinese man in San Francisco that Gregory bought the stone three years ago.”

“I see, madam, that you believe the diamond we are talking about to be — ”
“‘The Western Star,’” finished Miss Marvell. “That’s so. At the time, Gregory remembers that there was some story with the stone, but the Chinese man was not giving any information. Gregory says he seemed very, very scared, and in a great hurry to get rid of the thing. He only asked for about a tenth of what it was worth. It was Greg’s wedding present to me.”

Poirot nodded and thought carefully.
“The story seems almost too romantic to believe. And yet, who knows? Please, Hastings, kindly hand me my little almanac.”

I did what I was told.

“Let’s see!” said Poirot, turning the pages.
“When is the date of the full moon? Ah, next Friday. That is in three days’ time. Well, ma’am, you ask for my advice — I give it to you. This nice story may be a trick — but maybe not! Therefore I advise you to give me the diamond to keep until after next Friday. Then we can take the steps we want.”

A little worry came over the actress’s face, and she answered nervously: “I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

“You have it with you — right?” Poirot was watching her closely.

The girl paused for a moment, then put her hand inside the top of her dress, and pulled out a long thin chain. She leaned forward and opened her hand. In her hand, a stone that shone white like fire, beautifully set in platinum, lay and winked at us seriously.

Poirot drew in his breath with a long hiss.
“Amazing!” he said softly. “May I, madam?” He took the jewel in his own hand and looked at it closely, then gave it back to her with a small bow. “A wonderful stone — without any fault. Ah, a hundred thunders! and you carry it about with you, like that!”

“No, no, I am really very careful, Mr. Poirot. Usually it is locked in my jewelry box, and kept in the hotel safe. We are staying at the Magnificent, you know. I just brought it along today for you to see.”

“And you will leave it with me, won’t you? You will be advised by Papa Poirot?”
“Well, you see, it is this way, Mr. Poirot. On Friday we are going down to Yardly Chase to spend a few days with Lord and Lady Yardly.”

Her words made me remember something faintly in my mind. Some gossip — what was it now? A few years ago, Lord and Lady Yardly visited the United States, and there was a rumor that his lordship had behaved badly there, helped by some lady friends — but surely there was something more, some gossip that linked Lady Yardly’s name with that of a movie star in California — why! It came to me at once — of course it was none other than Gregory B. Rolf.

“I will tell you a little secret, Mr. Poirot,” Miss Marvell continued. “We have a deal with Lord Yardly. There is some chance we can arrange to film a play down there in his old family house.”
“At Yardly Chase?” I cried, interested. “Why, it is one of the famous places of England.”

Miss Marvell nodded.
“I think it’s the real old stuff from lords and castles, all right. But he wants a very high price, and of course I don’t know yet if the deal will happen, but Greg and I always like to mix business with pleasure.”

“But — excuse me if I do not understand, madam — surely you can visit Yardly Chase without taking the diamond with you?”

A sharp, hard look came into Miss Marvell’s eyes, which did not match their childlike look. She suddenly looked much older. “I want to wear it down there.”

“Surely,” I said suddenly, “there are some very famous jewels in the Yardly collection, a large diamond among them?”
“Yes, that is true,” said Miss Marvell in a few words.

I heard Poirot whisper under his breath: “Ah, that is how it is!” Then he said out loud, with his usual strange luck in being exactly right (he makes it sound grand by calling it psychology): “Then you surely already know Lady Yardly, or perhaps your husband does?”

“Gregory met her when she was in the West three years ago,” said Miss Marvell. She paused for a moment, and then said quickly: “Do either of you ever read Society Gossip?”

We both said we were guilty, feeling a bit ashamed.

“I ask because in this week’s issue there is an article about famous jewels, and it is really very strange—” She stopped speaking.

I stood up, went to the table on the other side of the room, and came back with the paper we were talking about in my hand. She took it from me, found the article, and started to read out loud:

“… Among other famous stones is the Star of the East, a diamond owned by the Yardly family. A family member of the present Lord Yardly from long ago brought it back with him from China, and people say a romantic story is linked to it. According to this story, the stone was once the right eye of a temple god. Another diamond, exactly the same in shape and size, was the left eye, and the story says that this jewel, too, would be stolen in time. ‘One eye shall go West, the other East, until they meet once more. Then, in triumph, they shall return to the god.’ It is a strange chance that there is now a stone that matches this one closely in description, and is known as ‘the Star of the West,’ or ‘the Western Star.’ It belongs to the famous film actress, Miss Mary Marvell. A comparison of the two stones would be interesting.”

She stopped.

“Amazing!” said Poirot softly. “Without a doubt a romance of the very best kind.” He turned to Mary Marvell. “And you are not afraid, madam? You have no superstitious fears? You are not afraid to bring these two Siamese twins together, in case a Chinese man should appear and, hey presto! quickly take them both back to China?”

His voice sounded like he was making fun, but I thought that a hidden feeling of seriousness was under it.

“I don’t think that Lady Yardly’s diamond is as good as my own diamond at all,” said Miss Marvell. “Anyway, I’m going to see.”

I do not know what more Poirot would have said, because at that moment the door opened suddenly, and a very handsome man walked into the room. From his neat, curly black hair to the tips of his shiny leather boots, he looked like a hero made for a love story.

“I said I would come by for you, Mary,” said Gregory Rolf, “and here I am. Well, what does Mr. Poirot say about our little problem? Is it just a big trick, the same as I think?”