Chapter 3: Happened in the corridor

"I hate to ask you, Poirot, but how did you know it was me?"

They were having breakfast and luckily the chef was working – otherwise Poirot would've had to skip the breakfast or eat the Scottish load of lard which Hastings also called: eggs, beans, bacon, sausage and haggis (and on top of that, quite enjoyed it).

"Well you see Hastings, I figured this: he wants to share a secret with me. It's either only a mystery hunt game or something else. But mystery hunt does not give Hastings any profit. He must have a motive, I thought. Is it not possible that he finds it amusing to watch Poirot solve a mystery? Of course it is, but knowing you… only maybe", Poirot told with a satisfied but playful smile on his face.

"Yes, of course.. quite idiotic of me, in fact", Hastings said, "to try hide a secret from someone who knows me as well as you."

"But you did hide it for many years already", Poirot reminded him, "besides, dear Hastings, one must always remember that even the brightest mind always has it difficult to look at himself and the people standing next to him objectively."

And thank god for that, otherwise he would've known it before I did, thought one very lucky man.

"Yes, I suppose that's always the case", Hastings added and decided to concentrate on eating.

***

When they had finished eating and reached their floor, making their way to their door, a strong-looking woman strode to them with an impolite expression and said in a thick Scottish accent: "Excuse me but are you two staying in the newlyweds' room?"

"Yes, indeed we are", Poirot answered, instantly irritated by that woman.

A man, who looked a lot like her (or she looked like him – they could've been identical twins in case one was cross-dressing) came right after her, scowling at her: "No, I told you not to! I'm so sorry, gentlemen—"

Despite the fact that the man was trying to stop the woman's rude approach, he didn't seem to be very friendly towards Hastings and Poirot either.

The woman paid little attention to her 'twin' and went on: "Because we are staying in the room next to yours and we can hardy sleep at night."

Poirot was struggling to keep his face plain and at the same time figure out what was going on. Hastings on the other hand, probably because his mind was already polluted with indecent thoughts, got it sooner: "There must've been a mistake; I can guarantee you that it isn't in any way possible that I or my friend could've—" (although he wouldn't have minded if they had) "—made any disturbing noises at all during the night."

"Right, just what I told you", commented the man whose face was pinker than the tip of Poirot's nose. "We will be leaving now, sorry to have interrupted you."

"Excuse me!" the woman said to his man and turned to Hastings. "I would've liked to believe that, but I was told that you two are besides us the only people staying on the uppermost floor – don't think I would otherwise have come to talk to you."

Poirot was not used to be treated like trash. He was used to be treated with amusement or mockery, but this was something quite shocking. He opened his mouth to tell her that he had no idea what she was talking about, when Hastings came to the rescue again: "Well, I can assure you that there is no chance it could've been us, so please excuse us."

He turned and opened their room's door. "Poirot?"

"Yes.." Poirot answered, gave the rude couple a disapproving look and went in with his brave knight.

***

It had been a long time since Hastings had seen Poirot this upset.

"Hastings! Is it possible that I misunderstood or did those horrible titans think that –"

"That we were gay, yes", Hastings said submissively.

"Yes—?" Poirot stuttered and looked at Hastings petrified. Obviously he wouldn't have continued his sentence quite like that. "Quoi!"

Oh my God, if this is what he thinks of himself being gay –, Hastings had just started to think when Poirot pushed his train of thought off the rail.

"How ridiculous!" Poirot exclaimed but to Hastings' surprise, had the familiar air of accomplishment and the look he had usually when he had managed to mislead someone on purpose.

Thinking about this and what it could've meant, Hastings sat down on the bed and asked Poirot: "What is it?"

Poirot turned to look at Hastings, calming down a little more and smiled lightly. "It it only appropriate that two such rude people should embarrass themselves so badly", he said a bit maliciously.

"But Poirot—" Hastings said.

"It is only appropriate", Poirot insisted.

"Well, thank you for being honest", Hastings said and as they started to prepare themselves for a stroll, Hastings realised a new possibility and suddenly felt like thanking their neighbors.

***

Hastings and Poirot were walking down the little road that, along with the houses surrounding it, formed the whole village. When their former discussion ended, Hastings could fluently plant a new subject:

"Well, good that you're not too upset about what happened earlier."

"Of course I am upset", Poirot claimed but sounded fairly serene. "But it was a misunderstanding – probably young lovers had come upstairs in the middle of the night, hiding from their relatives or looking for double beds."

"Mm-m. I'm quite upset myself", Hastings said and shook his head, "they were most rude."

"Yes, and understandably", Poirot said nonchalantly, "if they thought that we were homosexuel."

"Exactly, I mean, what would you do?" Hastings prompted.

"Nothing like that, certainement", Poirot answered quickly but elaborated, "if two men were disturbing my sleep excessively I would approach the receptionist."

"But you wouldn't talk to them?"

"I would talk to the receptionist even if these people were a man and a woman", Poirot said and – to Hastings' delight – really went deep into the matter. "Yes well, if these people seemed friendly or intelligent enough, I could start a conversation about the rock-hard beds in this place and also drop a hint about hearing some loud noises during the night."

"If only those Scotts had your manners", Hastings said smilingly.

"What would you do then, Hastings?"

"I don't know… Probably say nothing."

Poirot laughed and patted on Hastings' shoulder. "Or your modesty!"

Hastings grinned warmly at Poirot. "But still, Poirot, naturally you wouldn't be rude to them, but what would you really think about them?"

"That it is hard enough to sleep here without two troublemakers combining their beds", was the answer, in a final intonation that suggested Poirot was having enough of this conversation.

"Quite right, quite right.." Hastings nodded and felt, probably even a bit, relieved.

***