The Ambassador’s Boots: An Agatha Christie Short Story. Agatha Christie

false heel?’

      The Ambassador seemed amused by the question.

      ‘Secret diplomacy hasn’t got to that pitch, I hope.’

      ‘Only in fiction,’ said Tommy with an answering smile, and a slightly apologetic manner. ‘But you see, we’ve got to account for the thing somehow. Who came for the bag – the other bag, I mean?’

      ‘Supposed to be one of Westerham’s servants. Quite a quiet, ordinary man, so I understand. My valet saw nothing wrong with him.’

      ‘Had it been unpacked, do you know?’

      ‘That I can’t say. I presume not. But perhaps you’d like to ask the valet a few questions? He can tell you more than I can about the business.’

      ‘I think that would be the best plan, Mr Wilmott.’

      The Ambassador scribbled a few words on a card and handed it to Tommy.

      ‘I opine that you would prefer to go round to the Embassy and make your inquiries there? If not, I will have the man, his name is Richards, by the way – sent round here.’

      ‘No, thank you, Mr Wilmott. I should prefer to go to the Embassy.’