HP28-MrsMcGinty'sDead

AgathaChristie

Chapter1

HerculePoirotcameoutoftheVielleGrand'mèrerestaurantintoSoho.Heturnedupthecollarofhis
overcoatthroughprudence,ratherthannecessity,sincethenightwasnotcold."Butatmyage,onetakes
norisks,"Poirotwaswonttodeclare.

Hiseyesheldareflectivesleepypleasure.TheescargotsdelaVielleGrand'mèrehadbeendelicious.A
realfind,thisdingylittlerestaurant.Meditatively,likeawell-feddog,HerculePoirotcurledhistongue
roundhislips.Drawinghishandkerchieffromhispocket,hedabbedhisluxuriantmoustaches.

Yes,hehaddinedwell...Andnowwhat?

Ataxi,passinghim,sloweddowninvitingly.Poirothesitatedforamoment,butmadenosign.Whytake
ataxi?Hewouldinanycasereachhometooearlytogotobed.

"Alas,"murmuredPoirottohismoustaches,"thatonecanonlyeatthreetimesaday..."

Forafternoonteawasamealtowhichhehadneverbecomeacclimatised."Ifonepartakesofthefive
o'clock,onedoesnot,"heexplained,"approachthedinnerwiththeproperqualityofexpectantgastric
juices.Andthedinner,letusremember,isthesuprememealoftheday!"

Not for him, either, the mid-morning coffee. No, chocolate and croissants for breakfast, Déjeneur at
twelve-thirtyifpossiblebutcertainlynotlaterthanoneo'clock,andfinallytheclimax:LeDiner!

These were the peak periods of Hercule Poirot's day. Always a man who had taken his stomach
seriously,hewasreapinghisrewardinoldage.Eatingwasnownotonlyaphysicalpleasure,itwasalso
an intellectual research. For in between meals he spent quite a lot of time searching out and marking
downpossiblesourcesofnewanddeliciousfood.LaVielleGrand'mérewastheresultofoneofthese
quests,andLaVielleGrand'mérehadjustreceivedthesealofHerculePoirot'sgastronomicapproval.

Butnow,unfortunately,therewastheeveningtoputin.

HerculePoirotsighed.

"Ifonly,"hethought,"cecherHastingswereavailable..."

Hedweltwithpleasureonhisremembrancesofhisoldfriend.

"Myfirstfriendinthiscountry-andstilltomethedearestfriendIhave.True,oftenandoftendidhe
enrage me. But do I remember that now? No. I remember only his incredulous wonder, his open-
mouthedappreciationofmytalents-theeasewithwhichImisledhimwithoututteringanuntrueword,
hisbafflement,hisstupendousastonishmentwhenheatlastperceivedthetruththathadbeenclearto
meallalong.Cechercherami!Itismyweakness,ithasalwaysbeenmyweakness,todesiretoshow
off.Thatweakness,Hastingscouldneverunderstand.Butindeeditisverynecessaryforamanofmy
abilitiestoadmirehimself-andforthatoneneedsstimulationfromoutside.Icannot,trulyIcannot,sit
inachairalldayreflectinghowtrulyadmirableIam.Oneneedsthehumantouch.Oneneeds-asthey
saynowadays-thestooge."

HerculePoirotsighed.HeturnedintoShaftesburyAvenue.

ShouldhecrossitandgoontoLeicesterSquareandspendtheeveningatacinema?Frowningslightly,
heshookhishead.Thecinema,moreoftenthannot,enragedhimbytheloosenessofitsplots-thelack
of logical continuity in the argument - even the photography which, raved over by some, to Hercule
Poirotseemedoftennomorethantheportrayalofscenesandobjectssoastomakethemappeartotally
differentfromwhattheywereinreality.

Everything,HerculePoirotdecided,wastooartisticnowadays.Nowherewastheretheloveoforderand
methodthathehimselfprizedsohighly.Andseldomwasthereanyappreciationofsubtlety.Scenesof
violence and crude brutality were the fashion, and as a former police officer, Poirot was bored by
brutality. In his early days, he had seen plenty of crude brutality. It had been more the rule than the
exception.Hefounditfatiguing,andunintelligent.

"The truth is," Poirot reflected as he turned his steps homeward, "I am not in tune with the modern
world.AndIam,inasuperiorway,aslaveasothermenareslaves.Myworkhasenslavedmejustas
theirworkenslavesthem.Whenthehourofleisurearrives,theyhavenothingwithwhichtofilltheir
leisure.Theretiredfinanciertakesupgolf,thelittlemerchantputsbulbsinhisgarden,me,Ieat.But
thereitis,Icomeroundtoitagain.Onecanonlyeatthreetimeaday.Andinbetweenarethegaps."

Hepassedanewspaper-sellerandscannedthebill.

"ResultofMcGintyTrial.Verdict."

It stirred no interest in him. He recalled vaguely a small paragraph in the papers. It had not been an
interestingmurder.Somewretchedoldwomanknockedontheheadforafewpounds.Allpartofthe
senselesscrudebrutalityofthesedays.

Poirotturnedintothecourtyardofhisblockofflats.Asalwayshisheartswelledinapproval.Hewas
proud of his home. A splendid symmetrical building. The lift took him up to the third floor where he
hadalargeluxuryflatwithimpeccablechromiumfittings,squarearmchairs,andseverelyrectangular
ornaments.Therecouldtrulybesaidnottobeacurveintheplace.

As he opened the door with his latchkey and stepped into the square, white lobby, his manservant,
George,steppedsoftlytomeethim.

"Goodevening,sir.Thereisa-gentlemanwaitingtoseeyou."

HerelievedPoirotdeftlyofhisovercoat.

"Indeed?" Poirot was aware of that very slight pause before the word gentleman. As a social snob,
Georgewasanexpert.

"AMrSpence,sir."

"Spence."Thename,forthemoment,meantnothingtoPoirot.Yetheknewthatitshoulddoso.

Pausingforamomentbeforethemirrortoadjusthismoustachestoastateofperfection,Poirotopened
thedoorofthesitting-roomandentered.Themansittinginoneofthebigsquarearmchairsgotup.

"Hullo,M.Poirot,hopeyourememberme.It'salongtime...SuperintendentSpence."

"Butofcourse."Poirotshookhimwarmlybythehand.

SuperintendentSpenceoftheColchesterPolice.Averyinterestingcasethathadbeen...AsSpencehad
said,alongtimeagonow...

Poirot pressed his guest with refreshments. A grenadine? Crème de Menthe? Benedictine? Crème de
Cacao...

AtthismomentGeorgeenteredwithatrayonwhichwasawhiskybottleandasiphon."Orbeerifyou
preferit,sir?"hemurmuredtothevisitor.

SuperintendentSpence'slargeredfacelightened.

"Beerforme,"hesaid.

PoirotwaslefttowonderoncemoreattheaccomplishmentsofGeorge.Hehimselfhadhadnoideathat
therewasbeerintheflatanditseemedincomprehensibletohimthatitcouldbepreferredtoasweet
liqueur.

WhenSpencehadhisfoamingtankard,Poirotpouredhimselfoutatinyglassofgleaminggreencrème
dementhe.

"Butitischarmingofyoutolookmeup,"hesaid."Charming.Youhavecomeupfrom?"

"Kilchester.I'llberetiredinaboutsixmonths.Actually,Iwasdueforretirementeighteenmonthsago.
TheyaskedmetostoponandIdid."

"Youwerewise,"saidPoirotwithfeeling."Youwereverywise..."

"WasI?Iwonder.I'mnotsosure."

"Yes,yes,youwerewise,"Poirotinsisted."Thelonghoursofennui,youhavenoconceptionofthem."

"Oh,I'llhaveplentytodowhenIretire.Movedintoanewhouselastyear,wedid.Quiteabitofgarden
andshamefullyneglected.Ihaven'tbeenabletogetdowntoitproperlyyet."

"Ah yes, you are one of those who garden. Me, once, I decided to live in the country and grow
vegetablemarrows.Itdidnotsucceed.Ihavenotthetemperament."

"Youshouldhaveseenoneofmymarrowslastyear,"saidSpencewithenthusiasm."Colossal!Andmy
roses.I'mkeenonroses.I'mgoingtohave-"

Hebrokeoff.

"That'snotwhatIcametotalkabout."

"No,no,youcametoseeanoldacquaintance-itwaskind.Iappreciateit."

"There'smoretoitthanthat,I'mafraid,M.Poirot.I'llbehonest.Iwantsomething."

Poirotmurmureddelicately:

"Thereisamortgage,possibly,onyourhouse?Youwouldlikealoan-"

Spenceinterruptedinahorrifiedvoice:

"Oh,goodlord,it'snotmoney!Nothingofthatkind."

Poirotwavedhishandsingracefulapology.

"Idemandyourpardon."

"I'lltellyoustraightout-it'sdamnedcheekwhatI'vecomefor.Ifyousendmeawaywithafleainmy
earIshan'tbesurprised."

"Therewillbenoflea,"saidPoirot."Butcontinue."

"It'stheMcGintycase.You'vereadaboutit,perhaps?"

Poirotshookhishead.

"Notwithattention.MrsMcGinty-anoldwomaninashoporahouse.Sheisdead,yes.Howdidshe
die?"

Spencestaredathim.

"Lord!"hesaid."Thattakesmeback.Extraordinary...AndIneverthoughtofituntilnow."

"Ibegyourpardon?"

"Nothing. Just a game. Child's game. We used to play it when we were kids. A lot of us in a row.
Questionand answer alldown the line.'Mrs McGinty's dead!' 'Howdid she die?''Down on one knee
justlikeI.'Andthenthenextquestion,'MrsMcGinty'sdead.''Howdidshedie?''Holdingherhandout
justlikeI.'Andtherewe'dbe,allkneelingandourrightarmsheldoutstiff.Andthenyougotit!'Mrs
McGinty's dead.' 'How did she die? 'Like THIS!' Smack, the top of the row would fall sideways and
down we all went like a pack of ninepins!" Spence laughed uproariously at the remembrance. "Takes
meback,itdoes!"

Poirotwaitedpolitely.Thiswasoneofthemomentswhen,evenafterhalfalifetimeinthecountry,he
found the English incomprehensible. He himself had played at Cache Cache and Le Boulanger in his
childhood,buthefeltnodesiretotalkaboutitoreventothinkaboutit.

WhenSpencehadovercomehisownamusement,Poirotrepeatedwithsomeslightweariness,"Howdid
shedie?"

ThelaughterwaswipedoffSpence'sface.Hewassuddenlyhimselfagain.

"She was hit on the back of her head with some sharp, heavy implement. Her savings, about thirty
poundsincash,weretakenafterherroomhadbeenransacked.Shelivedaloneinasmallcottageexcept
foralodger.ManofthenameofBentley.JamesBentley."

"Ahyes,Bentley."

"Theplacewasn'tbrokeninto.Nosignsofanytamperingwiththewindowsorlocks.Bentleywashard
up,hadlosthisjob,andowedtwomonths'rent.Themoneywasfoundhiddenunderaloosestoneatthe
backofthecottage.Bentley'scoatsleevehadbloodonitandhair-samebloodgroupandtherighthair.
According to his first statement he was never near the body - so it couldn't have come there by

accident."

"Whofoundher?"

"Thebakercalledwithbread.Itwasthedayhegotpaid.JamesBentleyopenedthedoortohimandsaid
he'd knocked at Mrs McGinty's bedroom door, but couldn't get an answer. The baker suggested she
mighthavebeentakenbad.Theygotthewomanfromnextdoortogoupandsee.MrsMcGintywasn't
inthebedroom,andhadn'tsleptinthebed,buttheroomhadbeenransackedandthefloorboardshad
beenprisedup.Thentheythoughtoflookingintheparlour.Shewasthere,lyingonthefloor,andthe
neighbourfairlyscreamedherheadoff.Thentheygotthepolice,ofcourse."

"AndBentleywaseventuallyarrestedandtried?"

"Yes.ThecasecameonattheAssizes.Yesterday.Openandshutcase.Thejurywereonlyouttwenty
minutesthismorning.Verdict:Guilty.Condemnedtodeath."

Poirotnodded.

"Andthen,aftertheverdict,yougotinatrainandcametoLondonandcameheretoseeme.Why?"

Superintendent Spence was looking into his beer glass. He ran his finger slowly round and round the
rim.

"Because,"hesaid,"Idon'tthinkhedidit..."

Chapter2

Therewasamomentortwoofsilence.

"Youcametome-"

Poirotdidnotfinishthesentence.

SuperintendentSpencelookedup.Thecolourinhisfacewasdeeperthanithadbeen.Itwasatypical

countryman'sface,unexpressive,self-contained,withshrewdbuthonesteyes.Itwasthefaceofaman
with definite standards who would never be bothered by doubts of himself or by doubts of what
constitutedrightandwrong.

"I'vebeenalongtimeintheForce,"hesaid."I'vehadagooddealofexperienceofthis,thatandthe
other. I can judge a man as well as any other could do. I've had cases of murder during my service -
someofthemstraightforwardenough,someofthemnotsostraightforward.Onecaseyouknowof,M.
Poirot"

Poirotnodded.

"Tricky,thatwas.Butforyou,wemightn'thaveseenclear.Butwedidseeclear-andtherewasn'tany
doubt.Thesamewiththeothersyoudon'tknowabout.TherewasWhistler,hegothis-anddeservedit.
TherewerethosechapswhoshotoldGuterman.TheewasVerallandhisarsenic.Trantergotoff-but
hediditallright.MrsCourtland-shewaslucky-herhusbandwasanastypervertedbitofwork,and
thejuryacquittedheraccordingly.Notjustice-justsentiment.You'vetoallowforthathappeningnow
andagain.Sometimesthereisn'tenoughevidencesometimesthere'ssentiment,sometimesamurderer
manages to put it across the jury - that last doesn't happen often, but it can happen. Sometimes it's a
cleverbitofworkbydefendingcounsel-oraprosecutingcounseltakesthewrongtack.Ohyes,I've
seenalotofthingslikethat.But-but..."

Spencewaggedaheartyforefinger.

"Ihaven'tseen-notinmyexperience-aninnocentmanhangedforsomethinghedidn'tdo.It'sathing,
M.Poirot,thatIdon'twanttosee.

"Not,"addedSpence,"inthiscountry!"

Poirotgazedbackathim.

"Andyouthinkyouaregoingtoseeitnow.Butwhy-"

Spenceinterruptedhim.

"Iknowsomeofthethingsyou'regoingtosay.I'llanswerthemwithoutyouhavingtoaskthem.Iwas
put on this case. I was put on to get evidence of what happened. I went into the whole business very
carefully.Igotthefacts,allthefactsIcould.Allthosefactspointedoneway-pointedtooneperson.

WhenI'dgotallthefactsItookthemtomysuperiorofficer.Afterthatitwasoutofmyhands.Thecase
went to the Public Prosecutor and it was up to him. He decided to prosecute - he couldn't have done
anything else - not on the evidence. And so James Bentley was arrested and committed for trial, and
was duly tried and has been found guilty. They couldn't have found him anything else, not on the
evidence.Andevidenceiswhatajuryhavetoconsider.Didn'thaveanyqualmsaboutiteither,Ishould
say.No,Ishouldsaytheywereallquitesatisfiedhewasguilty."

"Butyou-arenot?"

"No."

"Why?"

SuperintendentSpencesighed.Herubbedhischinthoughtfullywithhisbighand.

"Idon'tknow.WhatImeanis,Ican'tgiveareason-aconcretereason.TothejuryIdaresayhelooked
likeamurderer-tomehedidn't-andIknowalotmoreaboutmurderersthantheydo."

"Yes,yes,youareanexpert."

"For one thing, you know, he wasn't cocky. Not cocky at all And in my experience they usually are.
Always so damned pleased with themselves. Always think they're stringing you along. Always sure
they'vebeensocleveraboutthewholething.Andevenwhenthey'reinthedockandmustknowthey're
forit,they'restillinaqueersortofwaygettingakickoutofitall.They'reinthelimelight.They'rethe
centralfigure.Playingthestarpart-perhapsforthefirsttimeintheirlives.They're-well-youknow-
cocky!"

Spencebroughtoutthewordwithanairoffinality.

"You'llunderstandwhatImeanbythat,M.Poirot."

"Iunderstandverywell.AndthisJamesBentley-hewasnotlikethat?"

"No.Hewas-well,justscaredstiff.Scaredstifffromthestart.Andtosomepeoplethatwouldsquare
inwithhisbeingguilty.Butnottome."

"No,Iagreewithyou.Whatishelike,thisJamesBentley?"

"Thirty-three,mediumheight,sallowcomplexion,wearsglasses.-"

Poirotarrestedtheflow.

"No,Idonotmeanhisphysicalcharacteristics.Whatsortofapersonality?"

"Oh-that."SuperintendentSpenceconsidered."Unprepossessingsortoffellow.Nervousmanner.Can't
lookyoustraightintheface.Hasaslysidewayswayofpeeringatyou.Worstpossiblesortofmanner
forajury.Sometimescringingandsometimestruculent.Blustersinaninefficientkindofway."

Hepausedandaddedinaconversationaltone:

"Reallyashykindofchap.Hadacousinratherlikethat.Ifanything'sawkwardtheygoandtellsome
sillyliethathasn'tachanceofbeingbelieved."

"Hedoesnotsoundattractive,yourJamesBentley."

"Oh,heisn't.Nobodycouldlikehim.ButIdon'twanttoseehimhangedforallthat."

"Andyouthinkhewillbehanged?"

"Idon'tseewhynot.Hiscounselmaylodgeanappeal-butifsoitwillbeonveryflimsygrounds-a
technicalityofsomekind,andIdon'tseethatitwillhaveachanceofsuccess."

"Didhehaveagoodcounsel?"

"YoungGraybrookwasallottedtohimunderthePoorPersons'DefenceAct.I'dsayhewasthoroughly
conscientiousandputupthebestshowhecould."

"Sothemanhadafairtrialandwascondemnedbyajuryofhisfellowmen."

"That'sright.Agoodaveragejury.Sevenmen,fivewomen-alldecentreasonablesouls.Judgewasold
Stanisdale.Scrupulouslyfair-nobias."

"So-accordingtothelawoftheland-JamesBentleyhasnothingtocomplainof?"

"Ifhe'shangedforsomethinghedidn'tdo,he'sgotsomethingtocomplainof!"

"Averyjustobservation."

"Andthecaseagainsthimwasmycase-Icollectedthefactsandputthemtogether-andit'sonthat
caseandthosefactsthathesbeencondemned.AndIdon'tlikeit,M.Poirot,Idon'tlikeit."

HerculePoirotlookedforalongtimeattheredagitatedfaceofSuperintendentSpence.

"Ehbien,"hesaid.Whatdoyousuggest?"

Spencelookedacutelyembarrassed.

"I expect you've got a pretty good idea of what's coming. The Bentley case is closed. I'm on another
casealready-embezzlement.GottogouptoScotlandtonight.I'mnotafreeman."

"AndI-am?"

Spencenoddedinashame-facedsortofway.

"You'vegotit.Awfulcheek,you'llthink.ButIcan'tthinkofanythingelse-ofanyotherway.IdidallI
couldatthetime,IexaminedeverypossibilityIcould.AndIdidn'tgetanywhere.Idon'tbelieveIever
wouldgetanywhere.Butwhoknows,itmaybedifferentforyou.Youlookatthingsin-ifyou'llpardon
meforsayingso-inafunnysortofway.Maybethat'sthewayyou'vegottolookattheminthiscase.
BecauseifJamesBentleydidn'tkillher,thensomebodyelsedid.Shedidn'tchopthebackofherheadin
herself.YoumaybeabletofindsomethingthatImissed.There'snoreasonwhyyoushoulddoanything
aboutthisbusiness.It'sinfernalcheekmyevensuggestingsuchathing.Butthereitis.Icametoyou
becauseitwastheonlythingIcouldthinkof.Butifyoudon'twanttoputyourselfout-andwhyshould
you-?"

Poirotinterruptedhim.

"Oh,butindeedtherearereasons.Ihaveleisure-toomuchleisure.Andyouhaveintriguedme-yes,
youhaveintriguedmeverymuch.Itisachallenge-tothelittlegreycellsofmybrain.Andthen,Ihave
aregardforyou.Iseeyou,inyourgardeninsixmonths'time,planting,perhapstherosebushes-andas
youplantthemitisnotwiththehappinessyoushouldbefeeling,becausebehindeverythingthereisan
unpleasantness in your brain, a recollection that you try to push away, and I would not have you feel
that,myfriend.Andfinally-"Poirotsatuprightandnoddedhisheadvigorously,"thereistheprinciple
ofthething.Ifamanhasnotcommittedmurder,heshouldnotbehanged."Hepausedandthenadded,
"Butsupposingthatafterall,hedidkillher?"

"InthatcaseI'dbeonlytoothankfultobeconvincedofit."

"Andtwoheadsarebetterthanone?Voilà,everythingissettled.Iprecipitatemyselfuponthebusiness.
Thereis,thatisclear,notimetobelost.Alreadythescentiscold.MrsMcGintywaskilled-when?"

"LastNovember,22nd."

"Thenletusatoncegetdowntothebrasstacks."

"I'vegotmynotesonthecasewhichI'llpassovertoyou."

"Good.Forthemoment,weneedonlythebareoutline.IfJamesBentleydidnotkillMrsMcGinty,who
did?"

Spenceshruggedhisshouldersandsaidheavily:

"There'snobody,sofarasIcansee."

"Butthatanswerwedonotaccept.Now,sinceforeverymurdertheremustbeamotive,what,inthe
caseofMrsMcGinty,couldthemotivebe?Envy,revenge,jealousy,fear,money?Letustakethelast
andthesimplest?Whoprofitedbyherdeath?"

"Nobodyverymuch.ShehadtwohundredpoundsintheSavingsBank.Herniecegetsthat.

"Two hundred pounds is not very much - but in certain circumstances it could be enough. So let us
consider the niece. I apologise, my friend, for treading in your footsteps. You too, I know, must have
consideredallthis.ButIhavetogooverwithyouthegroundalreadytraversed."

Spencenoddedhislargehead.

"We considered the niece, of course. She's thirty-eight, married. Husband is employed in the building
anddecoratingtrade-apainter.He'sgotagoodcharacter,steadyemployment,sharpsortoffellow,no
fool. She's a pleasant young woman, a bit talkative, seemed fond of her aunt in a mild sort of way.
Neither of them had any urgent need for two hundred pounds, though quite pleased to have it, I dare
say."

"Whatabouthercottage?Dotheygetthat?"

"Itwasrented.Ofcourse,undertheRentRestrictionActthelandlordcouldn'tgettheoldwomanout.
Butnowshe'sdead,Idon'tthinktheniececouldhavetakenover-anywaysheandherhusbanddidn't
wantto. They've gota small moderncouncil house of theirown of whichthey are extremely proud."
Spencesighed."Iwentintothenieceandherhusbandprettyclosely-theyseemedthebestbet,asyou'll
understand.ButIcouldn'tgetholdofanything."

"Bien.NowletustalkaboutMrsMcGintyherself.Describehertome-andnotonlyinphysicalterms,
ifyouplease."

Spencegrinned.

"Don'twantapolicedescription?Well,shewassixty-four.Widow.Husbandhadbeenemployedinthe
drapery department of Hodges in Kilchester. He died about seven years ago. Pneumonia. Since then,
MrsMcGintyhasbeengoingoutdailytovarioushousesroundabout.Domesticchores.Broadhinny'sa
smallvillagewhichhaslatelybecomeresidential.Oneortworetiredpeople,oneofthepartnersinan
engineeringworks,adoctor,thatsortofthing.There'squiteagoodbusandtrainservicetoKilchester,
andCullenquaywhich,asIexpectyouknow,isquitealargesummerresort,isonlyeightmilesaway,
butBroadhinnyitselfisstillquiteprettyandrural-aboutaquarterofamileoffthemainDrymouthand
Kilchesterroad."

Poirotnodded.

"MrsMcGinty'scottage,wasoneoffourthatformthevillageproper.Theresthepostofficeandvillage
shop,andagriculturallabourersliveintheothers."

"Andshetookinalodger?"

"Yes. Before her husband died, it used to be summer visitors, but after his death she just took one
regular.JamesBentleyhadbeenthereforsomemonths."

"Sowecometo-JamesBentley?"

"Bentley's last job was with a house agent's in Kilchester. Before that, he lived with his mother in
Cullenquay.Shewasaninvalidandhelookedafterherandneverwentoutmuch.Thenshedied,andan
annuity she had died with her. He sold the little house and found a job. Well educated man, but no
specialqualificationsoraptitudes,and,asIsay,anunprepossessingmanner.Didn'tfinditeasytoget
anything.Anyway,theytookhimonatBreather&Scuttle's.Ratherasecond-ratefirm.Idon'tthinkhe
wasparticularlyefficientorsuccessful.Theycutdownstaffandhewastheonetogo.Hecouldn'tget
anotherjob,andhismoneyranout.HeusuallypaidMrsMcGintyeverymonthforhisroom.Shegave
himbreakfastandsupperandchargedhimthreepoundsaweek-quitereasonable,allthingsconsidered.
Hewastwomonthsbehindinpayingher,andhewasnearlyattheendofhisresources.Hehadn'tgot
anotherjobandshewaspressinghimforwhatheowedher."

"Andheknewthatshehadthirtypoundsinthehouse?Whydidshehavethirtypoundsinthehouse,by
theway,sinceshehadaSavingsBankaccount?"

"Becauseshedidn'ttrusttheGovernment.Saidthey'dgottwohundredpoundsofhermoney,butthey
wouldn'tgetanymore.She'dkeepthatwhereshecouldlayherhandonitanyminute.Shesaidthatto
one or two people. It was under a loose board in her bedroom floor - a very obvious place. James
Bentleyadmittedheknewitwasthere."

"Veryobligingofhim.Anddidnieceandhusbandknowthattoo?"

"Ohyes."

"Thenwehavenowarrivedbackatmyfirstquestiontoyou.HowdidMrsMcGintydie?"

"ShediedonthenightofNovember22nd.Policesurgeonputthetimeofdeathasbeingbetween7and
10 p.m. She'd had her supper - a kipper and bread and margarine, and according to all accounts, she
usuallyhadthatabouthalf-pastsix.Ifsheadheredtothatonthenightinquestion,thenbytheevidence
ofdigestionshewaskilledabouteight-thirtyornineo'clock.JamesBentley,byhisownaccount,was
outwalkingthateveningfromseven-fifteentoaboutnine.Hewentoutandwalkedmosteveningsafter

dark. According to his own story he came in at about nine o'clock (he had his own key) and went
straight upstairs to his room. Mrs McGinty had had wash-basins fixed in the bedrooms because of
summervisitors.Hereadforabouthalfanhourandthenwenttobed.Heheardandnoticednothingout
oftheway.Nextmorninghecamedownstairsandlookedintothekitchen,buttherewasnoonethere
andnosignsofbreakfastbeingprepared.HesayshehesitatedabitandthenknockedonMrsMcGinty's
door,butgotnoreply.

"Hethoughtshemusthaveoverslept,butdidn'tliketogoonknocking.ThenthebakercameandJames
Bentleywentupandknockedagain,andafterthat,asItoldyou,thebakerwentnextdoorandfetched
inaMrsElliot,whoeventuallyfoundthebodyandwentoffthedeepend.MrsMcGintywaslyingon
theparlourfloor.She'dbeenhitonthebackoftheheadwithsomethingratherinthenatureofameat
chopperwithaverysharpedge.She'dbeenkilledinstantaneously.Drawerswerepulledopenandthings
strewn about, and the loose board in the floor in her bedroom had been prised up and the cache was
empty.Allthewindowswereclosedandshutteredontheinside.Nosignsofanythingbeingtampered
withorofbeingbrokenintofromoutside."

"Therefore,"saidPoirot,"eitherJamesBentleymusthavekilledher,orelseshemusthaveadmittedher
killerherselfwhilstBentleywasout?"

"Exactly. It wasn't any hold-up or burglar. Now who would she be likely to let in? One of the
neighbours, or her niece, or her niece's husband. It boils down to that. We eliminated the neighbours.
Nieceandherhusbandwereatthepicturesthatnight.Itispossible-justpossible,thatoneorotherof
themleftthecinemaunobserved,bicycledthreemiles,killedtheoldwoman,hidthemoneyoutsidethe
house,andgotbackintothecinemaunnoticed.Welookedintothatpossibility,butwedidn'tfindany
confirmationofit.AndwhyhidethemoneyoutsideMcGinty'shouseifso?Difficultplacetopickitup
later. Why not somewhere along the three miles back? No, the only reason for hiding it where it was
hidden-"

Poirotfinishedthesentenceforhim.

"-wouldbebecauseyouwerelivinginthathouse,butdidn'twanttohideitinyourroomoranywhere
inside.Infact:JamesBentley."

"That'sright.Everywhere,everytime,youcameupagainstBentley.Finallytherewasthebloodonhis
cuff."

"Howdidheaccountforthat?"

"Saidherememberedbrushingupagainstabutcher'schopthepreviousday.Baloney!Itwasn'tanimal

blood."

"Andhestucktothatstory?"

"Notlikely.Atthetrialhetoldacompletelydifferenttale.Yousee,therewasahaironthecuffaswell-
abloodstainedhair,andthehairwasidenticalwithMrsMcGinty'shair.Thathadgottobeexplained
away.Headmittedthenthathehadgoneintotheroomthenightbeforewhenhecamebackfromhis
walk.He'dgonein,hesaid,afterknocking,andfoundherthere,onthefloor,dead.He'dbentoverand
touchedher,hesaid,tomakesure.Andthenhe'dlosthishead.He'dalwaysbeenverymuchaffectedby
thesightofblood,hesaid.Hewenttohisroominastateofcollapseandmoreorlessfainted.Inthe
morninghecouldn'tbringhimselftoadmitheknewwhathadhappened."

"Averyfishystory,"commentedPoirot.

"Yes,indeed.Andyet,youknow,"saidSpencethoughtfully,"itmightwellbetrue.It'snotthesortof
thingthatanordinaryman-orajury-canbelieve.ButI'vecomeacrosspeoplelikethat.Idon'tmean
the collapse story. I mean people who are confronted by a demand for responsible action and who
simply can't face up to it. Shy people. He goes in, say, and finds her. He knows that he ought to do
something-getthepolice-gotoaneighbour-dotherightthingwhateveritis.Andhefunksit.He
thinks'Idon'tneedtoknowanythingaboutit.Ineedn'thavecomeinheretonight.I'llgotobedjustas
if I hadn't come in here at all...' Behind it, of course, there's fear - fear that he may be suspected of
havingahandinit.Hethinkshe'llkeephimselfoutofitaslongaspossible,andsothesillyjuggins
goesandputshimselfintoit-uptohisneck."

Spencepaused.

"Itcouldhavebeenthatway."

"Itcould,"saidPoirotthoughtfully.

"Oragain,itmayhavebeenjustthebeststoryhiscounselcouldthinkupforhim.ButIdon'tknow.The
waitressinthecaféinKilchesterwhereheusuallyhadlunchsaidthathealwayschoseatablewherehe
couldlookintoawalloracornerandnotseepeople.Hewasthatkindofachap-justabitscrewy.But
notscrewyenoughtobeakiller.He'dnopersecutioncomplexoranythingofthatkind."

SpencelookedhopefullyatPoirot-butPoirotdidnotrespond-hewasfrowning.

Thetwomensatsilentforawhile.

Chapter3

AtlastPoirotrousedhimselfwithasigh.

"Eh bien," he said. "We have exhausted the motive of money. Let us pass to other theories. Had Mrs
McGintyanenemy?Wassheafraidofanyone?"

"Noevidenceofit."

"Whatdidherneighbourshavetosay?"

"Not very much. They wouldn't to the police, perhaps, but I don't think they were holding anything
back. She kept herself to herself, they said. But that's regarded as natural enough. Our villages, you
know,M.Poirot,aren'tfriendly.Evacueesfoundthatduringthewar.MrsMcGintypassedthetimeof
thedaywiththeneighboursbuttheyweren'tintimate."

"Howlonghadshelivedthere?"

"Matterofeighteenortwentyyears,Ithink."

"Andthefortyyearsbeforethat?"

"There's no mystery about her. Farmer's daughter from North Devon. She and her husband lived near
Ilfracombe for a time, and then moved to Kilchester. Had a cottage the other side of it - but found it
damp,sotheymovedtoBroadhinny.Husbandseemstohavebeenaquiet,decentman,delicate-didn't
gotothepubmuch.Allveryrespectableandaboveboard.Nomysteriesanywhere,nothingtohide."

"Andyetshewaskilled?"

"Andyetshewaskilled."

"Theniecedidn'tknowofanyonewhohadagrudgeagainstheraunt?"

"Shesaysnot."

Poirotrubbedhisnoseinanexasperatedfashion.

"Youcomprehend,mydearfriend,itwouldbesomucheasierifMrsMcGintywasnotMrsMcGinty,so
tospeak.IfshecouldbewhatiscalledaMysteryWoman-awomanwithapast."

"Well,shewasn't,"saidSpencestolidly."ShewasjustMrsMcGinty,amoreorlessuneducatedwoman,
wholetroomsandwentourcharring.ThousandsofthemalloverEngland."

"Buttheydonotallgetmurdered."

"No.Igrantyouthat."

"SowhyshouldMrsMcGintygetmurdered?Theobviousanswerwedonotaccept.Whatremains?A
shadowyandimprobableniece.Anevenmoreshadowyandimprobablestranger.Facts?Letusstickto
facts.Whatarethefacts?Anelderlycharwomanismurdered.Ashyanduncouthyoungmanisarrested
andconvictedofthemurder.WhywasJamesBentleyarrested?"

Spencestared.

"Theevidenceagainsthim.I'vetoldyou-"

"Yes.Evidence.Buttellme,mySpence,wasitrealevidenceorwasitcontrived?"

"Contrived?"

"Yes.GrantedthepremisesthatJamesBentleyisinnocent,twopossibilitiesremain.Theevidencewas
manufactured,deliberately,tothrowsuspicionagainsthim.Orelsehewasjusttheunfortunatevictimof
circumstances."

"Yes.Iseewhatyou'redrivingat."

"Thereisnothingtoshowthattheformerwasthecase.Butagainthereisnothingtoshowthatitwas
not so. The money was taken and hidden outside the house in a place easily found. To have actually
hidden it in his room would have been a little too much for the police to swallow. The murder was
committedatatimewhenBentleywastakingalonelywalk,asheoftendid.Didthebloodstaincome
onhissleeveashesaiditdidathistrial,orwasthat,too,contrived?Didsomeonebrushagainsthimin
thedarknessandsmeartell-taleevidenceonhissleeve?"

"Ithinkthat'sgoingabitfar,M.Poirot."

"Perhaps,perhaps.Butwehavegottogofar.Ithinkthatinthiscasewehavegottogosofarthatthe
imaginationcannotasyetseethepathclearly...For,yousee,MoncherSpence,ifMrsMcGintyisjust
anordinarycharwoman-itisthemurdererwhomustbeextraordinary.Yes-thatfollowsclearly.Itis
in the murderer and not the murdered that the interest of this case lies. That is not the case in most
crimes.Usuallyitisinthepersonalityofthemurderedpersonthatthecruxofthesituationlies.Itisthe
silentdeadinwhomIamusuallyinterested.Theirhates,theirloves,theiractions.Andwhenyoureally
knowthemurderedvictim,thenthevictimspeaks,andthosedeadlipsutteraname-thenameyouwant
toknow."

Spencelookedratheruncomfortable.

"Theseforeigners!"heseemedtobesayingtohimself.

"But here," continued Poirot, "it is the opposite. Here we guess at a veiled personality - a figure still
hidden in darkness. How did Mrs McGinty die? Why did she die? The answer is not to be found in
studying the life of Mrs McGinty. The answer is to be found in the personality of the murderer. You
agreewithmethere?"

"Isupposeso,"saidSuperintendentSpencecautiously.

"Someonewhowantedwhat?TostrikedownMrsMcGinty?OrtostrikedownJamesBentley?"

TheSuperintendentgaveadoubtful"H'm!"

"Yes-yes,thatisoneofthefirstpointstobedecided.Whoistherealvictim?Whowasintendedtobe
thevictim?"

Spence said incredulously: "You really think someone would bump off a perfectly inoffensive old

womaninordertogetsomeoneelsehangedformurder?"

"Onecannotmakeanomelette,theysay,withoutbreakingeggs.MrsMcGinty,then,maybetheegg,
andJamesBentleyistheomelette.Soletmehear,now,whatyouknowofJamesBentley."

"Nothing much. Father was a doctor - died when Bentley was nine years old. He went to one of the
smallerpublicschools,unfitfortheArmy,hadaweakchest,wasinoneoftheMinistriesduringthewar
andlivedwithapossessivemother."

"Well,"saidPoirot,"therearecertainpossibilitiesthere...MorethanthereareinthelifehistoryofMrs
McGinty."

"Doyouseriouslybelievewhatyouaresuggesting?"

"No,Idonotbelieveanythingasyet.ButIsaythattherearetwodistinctlinesofresearch,andthatwe
havetodecide,verysoon,whichistherightonetofollow."

"Howareyougoingtosetaboutthings,M.Poirot?IsthereanythingIcando?"

"First,IshouldlikeaninterviewwithJamesBentley."

"Thatcanbemanaged.I'llgetontohissolicitors."

"Afterthatandsubject,ofcourse,totheresult,ifany-Iamnothopeful-ofthatinterview,Ishallgoto
Broadhinny.There,aidedbyyournotes,Ishall,asquicklyaspossible,gooverthatsamegroundwhere
youhavepassedbeforeme."

"IncaseI'vemissedanything,"saidSpencewithawrysmile.

"Incase,Iwouldprefertosay,thatsomecircumstanceshouldstrikemeinadifferentlighttotheonein
whichitstruckyou.Humanreactionsvaryandsodoeshumanexperience.Theresemblanceofarich
financiertoasoapboilerwhomIhadknowninLiegeoncebroughtaboutamostsatisfactoryresult.But
noneedtogointothat.WhatIshouldliketodoistoeliminateoneorotherofthetrailsIindicatedjust
now.AndtoeliminatetheMrsMcGintytrail-trailNo.1-willobviouslybequickerandeasierthanto
attacktrailNo.2.Where,now,canIstayinBroadhinny?Isthereaninnofmoderatecomfort?"

"There'stheThreeDucks-butitdoesn'tputpeopleup.There'stheLambinCullavonthreemilesaway
- or there is a kind of a Guest House in Broadhinny itself. It's not really a Guest House, just a rather
decrepitcountry house wherethe young couplewho own it takein paying guests.I don't think," said
Spencedubiously,"thatit'sverycomfortable."

HerculePoirotclosedhiseyesinagony.

"IfIsuffer,Isuffer,"hesaid."Ithastobe."

"Idon'tknowwhatyou'llgothereas,"continuedSpencedoubtfullyasheeyedPoirot."Youmightbe
somekindofanoperasinger.Voicebrokendown.Gottorest.Thatmightdo."

"Ishallgo,"saidHerculePoirot,speakingwithaccentsofroyalblood,"asmyself."

Spencereceivedthispronouncementwithpursedlips.

"D'youthinkthat'sadvisable?"

"Ithinkitisessential!Butyes,essential.Consider,cherami,itistimeweareupagainst.Whatdowe
know?Nothing.Sothehope,thebesthope,istogopretendingthatIknowagreatdeal.IamHercule
Poirot. I am the great, the unique Hercule Poirot. And I, Hercule Poirot, am not satisfied about the
verdictintheMcGintycase.I,HerculePoirot,haveaveryshrewdsuspicionofwhatreallyhappened.
ThereisacircumstancethatI,alone,estimateatitstruevalue.Yousee?"

"Andthen?"

"And then, having made my effect, I observe the reactions. For there should be reactions. Very
definitely,thereshouldbereactions."

SuperintendentSpencelookeduneasilyatthelittleman.

"Lookhere,M.Poirot,"hesaid."Don'tgostickingoutyourneck.Idon'twantanythingtohappento
you."

"Butifitdoes,youwouldbeprovedrightbeyondtheshadowofdoubt,isitnotso?"

"Idon'twantitprovedthehardway,"saidSuperintendentSpence.

Chapter4

Withgreatdistaste,HerculePoirotlookedroundtheroominwhichhestood.Itwasaroomofgracious
proportions but there its attraction ended. Poirot made an eloquent grimace as he drew a suspicious
fingeralongthetopofabookcase.Ashehadsuspected-dust!Hesatdowngingerlyonasofaandits
brokenspringssaggeddepressinglyunderhim.Thetwofadedarmchairswere,asheknew,littlebetter.
A large fierce-looking dog whom Poirot suspected of having mange growled from his position on a
moderatelycomfortablefourthchair.

The room was large, and had a faded Morris wallpaper. Steel engravings of unpleasant subjects hung
crookedlyonthewallswithoneortwogoodoilpaintings.Thechair-coverswerebothfadedanddirty,
thecarpethadholesinitandhadneverbeenofapleasantdesign.Agooddealofmiscellaneousbric-a-
brac was scattered haphazard here and there. Tables rocked dangerously owing to absence of castors.
Onewindowwasopen,andnopoweronearthcould,apparently,shutitagain.Thedoor,temporarily
shut,wasnotlikelytoremainso.Thelatchdidnothold,andwitheverygustofwinditburstopenand
whirlinggustsofcoldwindeddiedroundtheroom.

"Isuffer,"saidHerculePoirottohimselfinacuteself-pity."Yes,Isuffer."

ThedoorburstopenandthewindandMrsSummerhayescameintogether.Shelookedroundtheroom,
shouted"What?"tosomeoneinthedistanceandwentoutagain.

MrsSummerhayeshadredhairandanattractivelyfreckledfaceandwasusuallyinadistractedstateof
puttingthingsdown,orelselookingforthem.

HerculePoirotsprangtohisfeetandshutthedoor.

AmomentortwolateritopenedagainandMrsSummerhayesreappeared.Thistimeshewascarryinga
largeenamelbasinandaknife.

Aman'svoicefromsomewayawaycalledout:

"Maureen,thatcat'sbeensickagain.WhatshallIdo?"

MrsSummerhayescalled:"I'mcoming,darling.Holdeverything."

Shedroppedthebasinandtheknifeandwentoutagain.

Poirotgotupagainandshutthedoor.Hesaid:

"Decidedly,Isuffer."

Acardroveup,thelargedogleapedfromthechairandraiseditsvoiceinacrescendoofbarking.He
jumpedonasmalltablebythewindowandthetablecollapsedwithacrash.

"Enfin,"saidHerculePoirot."C'estinsupportable!"

Thedoorburstopen,thewindsurgedroundtheroom,thedogrushedout,stillbarking.Maureen'svoice
came,upraisedloudandclear.

"Johnnie,whythehelldidyouleavethebackdooropen!Thosebloodyhensareinthelarder."

"Andforthis,"saidHerculePoirotwithfeeling,"Ipaysevenguineasaweek!"

Thedoorbangedtowithacrash.Throughthewindowcametheloudsquawkingofiratehens.

ThenthedooropenedagainandMaureenSummerhayescameinandfelluponthebasinwithacryof
joy.

"Couldn'tthinkwhereI'dleftit.Wouldyoumindfrightfully,MrEr-hum-Imean,woulditbotheryou
ifIslicedthebeansinhere?Thesmellinthekitchenistoofrightful."

"Madame,Ishouldbeenchanted."

Itwasnot,perhaps,theexactphrase,butitwasnearenough.Itwasthefirsttimeintwenty-fourhours

thatPoirothadseenanychanceofaconversationofmorethansixseconds'duration.

Mrs Summerhayes flung herself down in a chair and began slicing beans with frenzied energy and
considerableawkwardness.

"I do hope," she said, "that you're not too frightfully uncomfortable? If there's anything you want
altered,dosayso."

PoirothadalreadycometotheopinionthattheonlythinginLongMeadowshecouldeventoleratewas
hishostess.

"Youaretookind,madame,"herepliedpolitely."Ionlywishitwerewithinmypowerstoprovideyou
withsuitabledomestics."

"Domestics!"MrsSummerhayesgaveasqueal."Whatahope!Can'tevengetholdofadaily.Ourreally
goodonewasmurdered.Justmyluck."

"ThatwouldbeMrsMcGinty,"saidPoirotquickly.

"MrsMcGintyitwas.God,howImissthatwoman!Ofcourseitwasallabigthrillatthetime.First
murderwe'veeverhadrightinthefamily,sotospeak,butasItoldJohnnie,itwasadownrightbitof
badluckforus.WithoutMcGintyIjustcan'tcope."

"Youwereattachedtoher?"

"My dear man, she was reliable. She came. Monday afternoons and Thursday mornings - just like a
clock.NowIhavethatBurpwomanfromupbythestation.Fivechildrenandahusband.Naturallyshe's
neverhere.Eitherthehusband'stakenqueer,ortheoldmother,orthechildrenhavesomefouldisease
orother.WitholdMcGinty,atleastitwasonlysheherselfwhocameoverqueer,andImustsayshe
hardlyeverdid."

"Andyoufoundheralwaysreliableandhonest?Youhadtrustinher?"

"Oh,she'dneverpinchanything-notevenfood.Ofcourseshesnoopedabit.Hadalookatone'sletters
andallthat.Butoneexpectsthatsortofthing.Imeantheymustlivesuchawfullydrablives,mustn't
they?"

"HadMrsMcGintyhadadrablife?"

"Ghastly,Iexpect,"saidMrsSummerhayesvaguely."Alwaysonyourkneesscrubbing.Andthenpiles
ofotherpeople'swashingupwaitingforyouonthesinkwhenyouarriveinthemorning.IfIhadtoface
thateveryday,I'dbepositivelyrelievedtobemurdered.Ireallywould."

ThefaceofMajorSummerhayesappearedatthewindow.MrsSummerhayessprangup,upsettingthe
beans,andrushedacrosstothewindow,whichsheopenedtothefullestextent.

"Thatdamneddog'seatenthehens'foodagain,Maureen."

"Ohdamn,nowhe'llbesick!"

"Lookhere,"JohnSummerhayesdisplayedacolanderofgreenery,"isthisenoughspinach?"

"Ofcoursenot."

"Seemsacolossalamounttome."

"It'llbeaboutateaspoonfulwhenit'scooked.Don'tyouknowbynowwhatspinachislike?"

"Ohlord!"

"Hasthefishcome?"

"Notasignofit."

"Hell,we'llhavetoopenatinofsomething.Youmightdothat,Johnnie.Oneoftheonesinthecorner
cupboard.Thatonewethoughtwasabitbulged.Iexpectit'squiteallrightreally."

"Whataboutthespinach?"

"I'llgetthat."

Sheleapedthroughthewindow,andhusbandandwifemovedawaytogether.

"Nomd'unnomd'unnom!"saidHerculePoirot.Hecrossedtheroomandclosedthewindowasnearly
ashecould.ThevoiceofMajorSummerhayescametohimborneonthewind.

"Whataboutthisnewfellow,Maureen?Looksabitpeculiartome.What'shisnameagain?"

"Icouldn'trememberitjustnowwhenIwastalkingtohim.HadtosayMrEr-um.Poirot-that'swhatit
is.He'sFrench."

"Youknow,Maureen,Iseemtohaveseenthatnamesomewhere."

"HomePerm,perhaps.Helookslikeahairdresser."

Poirotwinced.

"N-no.Perhapsit'spickles.Idon'tknow.I'msureit'sfamiliar.Bettergetthefirstsevenguineasoutof
him,quick."

Thevoicesdiedaway.

Hercule Poirot picked up the beans from the floor where they had scattered far and wide. Just as he
finisheddoingso,MrsSummerhayescameinagainthroughthedoor.

Hepresentedthemtoherpolitely:

"Voici,Madame."

"Ohthanksawfully.Isay,thesebeanslookabitblack.Westorethen,youknow,incrocks,salteddown.
Buttheseseemtohavegonewrong.I'mafraidtheywon'tbeverynice."

"I,too,fearthat...YoupermitthatIshutthedoor?Thereisadecideddraught."

"Ohyes,do.I'mafraidIalwaysleavedoorsopen."

"SoIhavenoticed."

"Anyway, that door never stays shut. This house is practically falling to pieces. Johnnie's father and
motherlivedhereandtheywereverybadlyoff,poordears,andtheyneverdidathingtoit.Andthen
whenwecamehomefromIndiatolivehere,wecouldn'taffordtodoanythingeither.It'sfunforthe
children in the holidays, though, lots of room to run wild in, and the garden and everything. Having
payingguestsherejustenablesustokeepgoing,thoughImustsaywe'vehadafewrudeshocks."

"AmIyouronlyguestatpresent?"

"We've got an old lady upstairs. Took to her bed the day she came and has been there ever since.
Nothing the matter with her that I can see. But there she is, and I carry up four trays a day. Nothing
wrongwithherappetite.Anyway,she'sgoingtomorrowtosomenieceorother."

MrsSummerhayespausedforamomentbeforeresuminginaslightlyartificialvoice.

"Thefishmanwillbehereinaminute.Iwonderifyou'dmind-er-forkingoutthefirstweek'srent.
Youarestayingaweek,aren'tyou?"

"Perhapslonger."

"Sorrytobotheryou.ButI'venotgotanycashinthehouseandyouknowwhatthesepeoplearelike-
alwaysdunningyou."

"Praydonotapologise,madame."

Poirottookoutsevenpoundnotesandaddedsevenshillings.MrsSummerhayesgatheredthemoneyup
withavidity.

"Thanksalot."

"Ishould,perhaps,Madame,tellyoualittlemoreaboutmyself.IamHerculePoirot."

TherevelationleftMrsSummerhayesunmoved.

"Whatalovelyname,"shesaidkindly."Greek,isn'tit?"

"I am, as you may know," said Poirot, "a detective." He tapped his chest. "Perhaps the most famous
detectivethereis."

MrsSummerhayesscreamedwithamusement.

"Iseeyou'reagreatpracticaljoker,M.Poirot.Whatareyoudetecting?Cigaretteashandfootprints?"

"IaminvestigatingthemurderofMrsMcGinty,"saidPoirot."AndIdonotjoke."

"Ouch,"saidMrsSummerhayes."I'vecutmyhand."

Sheraisedafingerandinspectedit.

ThenshestaredatPoirot.

"Lookhere,"shesaid."Doyoumeanit?WhatImeanis,it'sover,allthat.Theyarrestedthatpoorhalf-
witwholodgedthereandhe'sbeentriedandconvictedandeverything.He'sprobablybeenhangedby
now."

"No, madame," said Poirot. "He has not been hanged - yet. And it is not 'over' - the case of Mrs
McGinty. I will remind you of the line from one of your poets. 'A question is never settled until it is
settled-right.'"

"Oo,"saidMrsSummerhayes,herattentiondivertedfromPoirottothebasininherlap."I'mbleeding
overthebeans.Nottoogoodaswe'vegottohavethemforlunch.Stillitwon'tmatterreallybecause
they'llgointoboilingwater.Thingarealwaysallrightifyouboilthem,aren'tthey?Eventins."

"Ithink,"saidHerculePoirotquietly,"thatIshallnotbeinforlunch."

Chapter5

"Idon'tknow,I'msure,"saidMrsBurch.

She had said that three times already. Her natural distrust of foreign-looking gentlemen with black
moustacheswearinglargefurlinedcoatswasnottobeeasilyovercome.

"Very unpleasant it's been," she went on. "Having poor Auntie murdered and the police and all that.
Trampingroundeverywhereandferretingabout,andaskingquestions.Withtheneighboursallagog.I
didn't feel at first we'd ever live it down. And my husband's mother's been downright nasty about it.
Nothing of that kind ever happened in her family, she kept saying. And 'poor Joe' and all that. What
aboutpoorme?Shewasmyaunt,wasn'tshe?ButreallyIdidthinkitwasallovernow."

"AndsupposingthatJamesBentleyisinnocent,afterall?"

"Nonsense," snapped Mrs Burch. "Of course he isn't innocent. He did it all right. I never did like the
looksofhim.Wanderingaboutmutteringtohimself.SaidtoAuntie,Idid:'Yououghtn'ttohaveaman
likethatinthehouse.Mightgooffhishead,'Isaid.Butshesaidhewasquietandobliginganddidn't
givetrouble.Nodrinking,shesaid,andhedidn'tevensmoke.Well,sheknowsbetternow,poorsoul."

Poirot looked thoughtfully at her. She was a big, plump woman with a healthy colour and a good-
humouredmouth.Thesmallhousewasneatandcleanandsmeltoffurniturepolishandbrasso.Afaint
appetisingsmellcamefromthedirectionofthekitchen.

Agoodwifewhokeptherhousecleanandtookthetroubletocookforherman.Heapproved.Shewas
prejudiced and obstinate but, after all, why not? Most decidedly, she was not the kind of woman one
couldimagineusingameatchopperonheraunt,orconnivingatherhusband'sdoingso.Spencehadnot
thought her that kind of woman, and rather reluctantly, Hercule Poirot agreed with him. Spence had
gone into the financial background of the Burches and had found no motive there for murder, and
Spencewasaverythoroughman.

He sighed, and persevered with his task, which was the breaking down of Mrs Burch's suspicion of
foreigners. He led the conversation away from murder and focused on the victim of it. He asked
questionsabout"poorAuntie,"herhealth,herhabits,herpreferencesinfoodanddrink,herpolitics,her
latehusband,herattitudetolife,tosex,tosin,toreligion,tochildren,toanimals.

Whether any of this irrelevant matter would be of use, he had no idea. He was looking through a
haystacktofindaneedle.But,incidentally,hewaslearningsomethingaboutBessieBurch.

Bessiedidnotreallyknowverymuchaboutheraunt.Ithadbeenafamilytie,honouredassuch,but
withoutintimacy.Nowandagain,onceamonthorso,sheandJoehadgoneoveronaSunday,tohave
middaydinnerwithAuntie,andmorerarely,Auntiehadcomeovertoseethem.Theyhadexchanged
presents at Christmas. They'd known that Auntie had a little something put by, and that they'd get it
whenshedied.

"But that's not to say we were needing it," Mrs Butch explained with rising colour. "We've got
something put by ourselves. And we buried her beautiful. A real nice funeral it was. Flowers and
everything."

Auntiehadbeenfondofknitting.Shedidn'tlikedogs,theymessedupaplace,butsheusedtohavea
cat-aginger.Itstrayedawayandshehadn'thadonesince,butthewomanatthepostofficehadbeen
goingtogiveherakitten.Keptherhouseveryneatanddidn'tlikelitter.Keptbrassatreatandwashed
downthekitchenflooreveryday.Shemadequiteanicethingofgoingouttowork.Oneshillingand
tenpenceanhour-twoshillingsfromHolmeleigh,thatwasMrCarpenter'softheWorks'house.Rolling
inmoney,theCarpenterswere.TriedtogetAuntietocomemoredaysintheweek,butAuntiewouldn't
disappoint her other ladies because she'd gone to them before she went to Mr Carpenter's, and it
wouldn'thavebeenright.

PoirotmentionedMrsSummerhayesatLongMeadows.

Ohyes,Auntiewenttoher-twodaysaweek.They'dcomebackfromIndiawherethey'dhadalotof
nativeservantsandMrsSummerhayesdidn'tknowathingaboutahouse.Theytriedtomarket-garden,
but they didn't know anything about that, either. When the children came home for the holidays, the
housewasjustpandemonium.ButMrsSummerhayeswasaniceladyandAuntielikedher.

Sotheportraitgrew.MrsMcGintyknitted,andscrubbedfloorsandpolishedbrass,shelikedcatsand
didn'tlikedogs.Shelikedchildren,butnotverymuch.Shekeptherselftoherself.

SheattendedchurchonSunday,butdidn'ttakepartinanychurchactivities.Sometimes,butrarely,she
went to the pictures. She didn't hold with goings on - and had given up working for an artist and his
wifewhenshehaddiscoveredtheyweren'tproperlymarried.Shedidn'treadbooks,butsheenjoyedthe
Sunday paper and she liked old magazines when her ladies gave them to her. Although she didn't go
much to the pictures, she was interested in hearing about film stars and their doings. She wasn't
interestedinpolitics,butvotedConservativelikeherhusbandhadalwaysdone.Neverspentmuchon
clothes,butgotquitealotgivenherfromherladies,andwasofasavingdisposition.

Mrs McGinty was, in fact, very much the Mrs McGinty that Poirot had imagined she would be. And
BessieBurch,herniece,wastheBessieBurchofSuperintendentSpence'snotes.

BeforePoirottookhisleave,JoeBurchcamehomeforthelunchhour.Asmall,shrewdman,lesseasy
tobesureaboutthanhiswife.Therewasafaintnervousnessinhismanner.Heshowedlesssignsof
suspicionandhostilitythanhiswife.Indeedheseemedanxioustoappearcooperative.Andthat,Poirot
reflected, was very faintly out of character. For why should Joe Burch be anxious to placate an
importunateforeignstranger?Thereasoncouldonlybethatthatstrangerhadbroughtwithhimaletter
fromSuperintendentSpenceoftheCountyPolice.

SoJoeBurchwasanxioustostandinwellwiththepolice?Wasitthathecouldn'tafford,ashiswife
could,tobecriticalofthepolice?

Aman,perhaps,withanuneasyconscience.Whywasthatconscienceuneasy?Therecouldbesomany
reasons - none of them connected with Mrs McGinty's death. Or was it that, somehow or other, the
cinema alibi had been cleverly faked, and that it was Joe Burch who had knocked on the door of the
cottage,hadbeenadmittedbyAuntieandwhohadstruckdowntheunsuspectingoldwoman.Hewould
pulloutthedrawersandransacktheroomstogivetheappearanceofrobbery,hemighthidethemoney
outside,cunningly,toincriminateJamesBentley,themoneythatwasintheSavingsBankwaswhathe
wasafter.Twohundredpoundscomingtohiswifewhich,forsomereasonunknown,hebadlyneeded.
Theweapon,Poirotremembered,hadneverbeenfound.Whyhadthatnotalsobeenleftonthesceneof
thecrime?Anymoronknewenoughtowearglovesorrubofffingerprints.Whythenhadtheweapon,
whichmusthavebeenaheavyonewithasharpedge,beenremoved?Wasitbecauseitcouldeasilybe
identifiedasbelongingtotheBurchménage?Wasthatsameweapon,washedandpolished,hereinthe
housenow?Somethinginthenatureofameatchopper,thepolicesurgeonhadsaid-butnot,itseemed,
actually a meat chopper. Something, perhaps a little unusual... a little out of the ordinary, easily
identified. The police had hunted for it, but not found it. They had searched woods, dragged ponds.
TherewasnothingmissingfromMrsMcGinty'skitchen,andnobodycouldsaythatJamesBentleyhad
hadanythingofthatkindinhispossession.Theyhadnevertracedanypurchaseofameatchopperor
any such implement to him. A small, but negative point in his favour. Ignored in the weight of other
evidence.Butstillapoint...

Poirotcastaswiftglanceroundtheratherovercrowdedlittlesitting-roominwhichhewassitting.

Wastheweaponhere,somewhere,inthishouse?WasthatwhyJoeButchwasuneasyandconciliatory?

Poirotdidnotknow.Hedidnotreallythinkso.Buthewasnotabsolutelysure...

Chapter6

IntheofficesofMessrs.Breather&Scuttle,Poirotwasshown,aftersomedemur,intotheroomofMr
Scuttlehimself.

MrScuttlewasabrisk,bustlingman,withaheartymanner.

"Goodmorning.Goodmorning."Herubbedhishands."Now,whatcanwedoforyou?"

HisprofessionaleyeshotoverPoirot,tryingtoplacehim,making,asitwere,aseriesofmarginalnotes.

Foreign.Goodqualityclothes.Probablyrich.Restaurantproprietor?Hotelmanager?Films?

"Ihopenottotrespassonyourtimeunduly.Iwantedtotalktoyouaboutyourformeremployee,James
Bentley."

MrScuttle'sexpressiveeyebrowsshotupaninchanddropped.

"JamesBentley.JamesBentley?"Heshotoutaquestion."Press?"

"No."

"Andyouwouldn'tbepolice?"

"No.Atleast-notofthiscountry."

"Not of this country." Mr Scuttle filed this away rapidly as though for future reference. What's it all
about?"

Poirot,neverhinderedbyapedanticregardfortruth,launchedoutintospeech.

"IamopeningafurtherinquiryintoJamesBentley'scase-attherequestofcertainrelativesofhis."

"Didn'tknowhehadany.Anyway,he'sbeenfoundguilty,youknow,andcondemnedtodeath."

"Butnotyetexecuted."

"While there's life, there's hope, eh?" Mr Scuttle shook his head. "Should doubt it, though. Evidence
wasstrong.Whoaretheserelationsofhis?"

"Icantellyouonlythis,theyarebothrichandpowerful.Immenselyrich."

"Yousurpriseme."MrScuttlewasunabletohelpthawingslightly.Thewords"immenselyrich"hadan
attractiveandhypnoticquality."Yes,youreallydosurpriseme."

"Bentley'smother,thelateMrsBentley,"explainedPoirot,"cutherselfandhersonoffcompletelyfrom
herfamily."

"Oneofthesefamilyfeuds,eh?Well,well.AndyoungBentleywithoutafarthingtoblesshimselfwith.
Pitytheserelationsdidn'tcometotherescuebefore."

"They have only just become aware of the facts," explained Poirot. "They have engaged me to come
withallspeedtothiscountryanddoeverythingpossible."

MrScuttleleanedback,relaxinghisbusinessmanner.

"Don'tknowwhatyoucando.Isupposethere'sinsanity?Abitlateintheday-butifyougotholdof
thebigmedicos.OfcourseI'mnotupinthesethingsmyself."

Poirotleanedforward.

"Monsieur,JamesBentleyworkedhere.Youcantellmeabouthim."

"Preciouslittletotell-preciouslittle.Hewasoneofourjuniorclerks.Nothingagainsthim.Seemeda
perfectly decent young fellow, quite conscientious and all that. But no idea of salesmanship. He just
couldn'tputaprojectover.That'snogoodinthisjob.Ifaclientcomestouswithahousehewantsto
sell,we'retheretosellitforhim.Andifaclientwantsahouse,wefindhimone.Ifit'sahouseina
lonely place with no amenities, we stress its antiquity, call it a period piece - and don't mention the

plumbing! And if a house looks straight into the gasworks, we talk about amenities and facilities and
don'tmentiontheview.Hustleyourclientintoit-that'swhatyou'reheretodo.Allsortsoflittletricks
thereare.'Weadviseyou,madam,tomakeanimmediateoffer.There'saMemberofParliamentwho's
verykeenonit-verykeenindeed.Goingouttoseeitagainthisafternoon.'Theyfallforthateverytime
-aMemberofParliamentisalwaysagoodtouch.Can'tthinkwhy!Nomembereverlivesawayfrom
hisconstituency.It'sjustthegoodsolidsoundofit."Helaughedsuddenly,displayedgleamingdentures.
"Psychology-that'swhatitis-justpsychology."

Poirotleapedattheword.

"Psychology.Howrightyouare.Iseethatyouareajudgeofmen."

"Nottoobad.Nottoobad,"saidMrScuttlemodestly.

"SoIaskyouagainwhatwasyourimpressionofJamesBentley?Betweenourselves-strictlybetween
ourselves-youthinkhekilledtheoldwoman?"

Scuttlestared.

"Ofcourse."

"Andyouthink,too,thatitwasalikelythingforhimtodo-psychologicallyspeaking?"

"Well-ifyouputitlikethat-no,notreally.Shouldn'thavethoughtheha'dtheguts.Tellyouwhat,if
youaskme,hewasbarmy.Putitthatway,anditworks.Alwaysabitsoftinthehead,andwhatwith
beingoutofajobandworryingandallthat,hejustwentrightovertheedge."

"Youhadnospecialreasonfordischarginghim?"

Scuttleshookhishead.

"Bad time of year. Staff hadn't enough to do. We sacked the one who was less competent. That was
Bentley.Alwayswouldbe,Iexpect.Gavehimagoodreferenceandallthat.Hedidn'tgetanotherjob,
though.Nopep.Madebadimpressiononpeople."

Italwayscamebacktothat,Poirotthought,ashelefttheoffice.JamesBentleymadeabadimpression
on people. He took comfort in considering various murderers he had known whom most people had
foundfullofcharm.

II

"Excuseme,doyoumindifIsitdownhereandtalktoyouforamoment?"

Poirot, ensconced at a small table in the Blue Cat, looked up from the menu he was studying with a
start. It was rather dark in the Blue Cat, which specialised in an old-world effect of oak and leaded
panes,buttheyoungwomanwhohadjustsatdownoppositetohimstoodoutbrightlyfromherdark
background.

She had determinedly golden hair, and was wearing an electric blue jumper suit. Moreover, Hercule
Poirotwasconsciousofhavingnoticedhersomewhereonlyashorttimepreviously.

Shewenton:

"Icouldn'thelp,yousee,hearingsomethingofwhatyouweresayingtoMrScuttle."

Poirot nodded. He had realised that the partitions in the offices of Breather & Scuttle were made for
convenienceratherthanprivacy.Thathadnotworriedhim,sinceitwaschieflypublicitythathedesired.

"Youweretyping,"hesaid,"totherightofthebackwindow."

Shenodded.Herteethshonewhiteinanacquiescingsmile.Averyhealthyyoungwoman,withafull
buxomfigurethatPoirotapproved.Aboutthirty-threeorfour,hejudged,andbynaturedark-haired,but
notonetobedictatedtobynature.

"AboutMrBentley,"shesaid.

"WhataboutMrBentley?"

"Is he going to appeal? Does it mean that there's new evidence? Oh, I'm so glad. I couldn't - I just
couldn'tbelievehedidit."

Poirot'seyebrowsrose.

"Soyouneverthoughthedidit,"hesaidslowly.

"Well,notatfirst.Ithoughtitmustbeamistake.Butthentheevidence-"shestopped.

"Yes,theevidence,"saidPoirot.

"Therejustdidn'tseemanyoneelsewhocouldhavedoneit.Ithoughtperhapshe'dgonealittlemad."

"Didheeverseemtoyoualittle-whatshallIsay-queer?"

"Oh no. Not queer in that way. He was just shy and awkward as anyone might be. The truth was, he
didn'tmakethebestofhimself.Hehadn'tconfidenceinhimself."

Poirot looked at her. She certainly had confidence in herself. Possibly she had enough confidence for
two.

"Youlikedhim?"heasked.

Sheflushed.

"Yes,Idid.Amy-that'stheothergirlintheoffice-usedtolaughathimandcallhimadrip,butIliked
himverymuch.Hewasgentleandpolite-andheknewalotreally.Thingsoutofbooks,Imean."

"Ahyes,thingsoutofbooks."

"Hemissedhismother.She'dbeenillforyears,youknow.Atleast,notreallyill,butnotstrong,and
he'ddoneeverythingforher."

Poirotnodded.Heknewthosemothers.

"Andofcourseshe'dlookedafterhim,too.Imeantakencareofhishealthandhischestinwinterand
whatheateandallthat."

Againhenodded.Heasked:

"Youandhewerefriends?"

"Idon'tknow-notexactly.Weusedtotalksometimes.Butafterhelefthere,he-I-Ididn'tseemuch
ofhim.Iwrotetohimonceinafriendlyway,buthedidn'tanswer."

Poirotsaidgently:

"Butyoulikehim?"

Shesaidratherdefiantly:

"Yes,Ido..."

"Thatisexcellent,"saidPoirot.

Hismindswitchedbacktothedayofhisinterviewwiththecondemnedprisoner.HesawJamesBentley
clearly.Themouse-colouredhair,thethinawkwardbody,thehandswiththeirbigknucklesandwrists,
the Adam's apple in the lean neck. He saw the furtive, embarrassed - almost sly glance. Not straight-
forward,notamanwhosewordcouldbetrusted-asecretive,slydeceitfulfellowwithanungracious,
muttering way of talking... That was the impression James Bentley would give to most superficial
observers.Itwastheimpressionhehadgiveninthedock.Thesortoffellowwhowouldtellties,and
stealmoney,andhitanoldwomanoverthehead...

ButonSuperintendentSpence,whoknewmen,hehadnotmadethatimpression.NoronHerculePoirot
Andnowherewasthisgirl.

"Whatisyourname,mademoiselle?"heasked.

"MaudeWilliams.IsthereanythingIcoulddo-tohelp?"

"Ithinkthereis.Therearepeoplewhobelieve,MissWilliams,thatJamesBentleyisinnocent.Theyare
working to prove that fact. I am the person charged with that investigation, and I may tell you that I
havealreadymadeconsiderableprogress-yes,considerableprogress."

Heutteredthatliewithoutablush.Tohisminditwasaverynecessarylie.Someone,somewhere,had
gottobemadeuneasy.MaudeWilliamswouldtalk,andtalkwaslikeastoneinapond,itmadearipple
thatwentonspreadingoutwards...

Hesaid:"YoutellmethatyouandJamesBentleytalkedtogether.Hetoldyouabouthismotherandhis
homelife.Didheevermentionanyonewithwhomhe,orperhapshismother,wasonbadterms?"

MaudeWilliamsreflected.

"No-notwhatyou'dcallbadterms.Hismotherdidn'tlikeyoungwomenmuch,Igather."

"Mothersofdevotedsonsneverlikeyoungwomen.No,Imeanmorethanthat.Somefamilyfeud,some
enmity.Someonewithagrudge?"

Sheshookherhead.

"Henevermentionedanythingofthatkind."

"Didheeverspeakofhislandlady,MrsMcGinty?"

Sheshiveredslightly.

"Notbyname.Hesaidoncethatshegavehimkippersmuchtoooften-andoncehesaidhislandlady
wasupsetbecauseshehadlosthercat."

"Didheever-youmustbehonest,please-mentionthatheknewwhereshekepthermoney?"

Someofthecolourwentoutofthegirl'sface,butshethrewupherchindefiantly.

"Actually,hedid.Weweretalkingaboutpeoplebeingdistrustfulofbanks-andhesaidhisoldlandlady
kepthersparemoneyunderafloorboard.Hesaid:'Icouldhelpmyselfanydaytoitwhenshe'sout.'Not
quiteasajoke,hedidn'tjoke,moreasthoughhewerereallyworriedbyhercarelessness."

"Ah," said Poirot. "That is good. From my point of view, I mean. When James Bentley thinks of
stealing,itpresentsitselftohimasanactionthatisdonebehindsomeone'sback.Hemighthavesaid,
yousee,'Somedaysomeonewillknockherontheheadforit.'"

"Buteitherway,hewouldn'tbemeaningit."

"Ohno.Buttalk,howeverlight,howeveridle,givesaway,inevitably,thesortofpersonyouare.The
wisecriminalwouldneveropenhismouth,butcriminalsareseldomwiseandusuallyvainandtheytalk
agooddeal-andsomostcriminalsarecaught."

MaudeWilliamssaidabruptly:

"Butsomeonemusthavekilledtheoldwoman."

"Naturally."

"Whodid?Doyouknow?Haveyouanyidea?"

"Yes," said Hercule Poirot mendaciously. "I think I have a very good idea. But we are only at the
beginningoftheroad."

Thegirlglancedatherwatch.

"Imust get back.We're only supposedto take half anhour. One-horse place,Kilchester - I've always
hadjobsinLondonbefore.You'llletmeknowifthere'sanythingIcando-reallydo,Imean?"

Poirottookoutoneofhiscards.OnithewroteLongMeadowsandthetelephonenumber.

"ThatiswhereIamstaying."

His name, he noted with chagrin, made no particular impression on her. The younger generation, he
couldnotbutfeel,weresingularlylackinginknowledgeofnotablecelebrities.

III

HerculePoirotcaughtabusbacktoBroadhinnyfeelingslightlymorecheerful.Atanyratetherewas
onepersonwhosharedhisbeliefinJamesBentley'sinnocence.Bentleywasnotsofriendlessashehad
madehimselfouttobe.

HismindwentbackagaintoBentleyinprison.Whatadispiritinginterviewithadbeen.Therehadbeen
nohopearoused,hardlyastirringofinterest.

"Thankyou,"Bentleyhadsaiddully,"butIdon'tsupposethereisanythinganyonecando."

No,hewassurehehadnotgotanyenemies.

"Whenpeoplebarelynoticeyou'realive,you'renotlikelytohaveanyenemies."

"Yourmother?Didshehaveanenemy?"

"Certainlynot.Everyonelikedandrespectedher."

Therewasafaintindignationinhistone.

"Whataboutyourfriends?"

AndJamesBentleyhadsaid,orrathermuttered,"Ihaven'tanyfriends..."

Butthathadnotbeenquitetrue.ForMaudeWilliamswasafriend.

"What a wonderful dispensation it is of Nature's," thought Hercule Poirot, "that every man, however
superficiallyunattractive,shouldbesomewoman'schoice."

For all Miss Williams's sexy appearance, he had a shrewd suspicion that she was really the maternal
type.

She had the qualities that James Bentley lacked, the energy, the drive, the refusal to be beaten, the
determinationtosucceed.

Hesighed.

Whatmonstrouslieshehadtoldthatday!Nevermind-they,werenecessary.

"Forsomewhere,"saidPoirottohimself,indulginginanabsoluteriotofmixedmetaphors,"thereisin
the hay a needle, and among the sleeping dogs there is one on whom I shall put my foot, and by
shootingthearrowsintotheair,onewillcomedownandhitaglass-house!"

Chapter7

ThecottagewhereMrsMcGintyhadlivedwasonlyafewstepsfromthebusstop.Twochildrenwere
playingonthedoorstep.Onewaseatingaratherwormy-lookingappleandtheotherwasshoutingand
beatingonthedoorwithatintray.Theyappearedquitehappy.

Poirotaddedtothenoisebybeatinghardonthedoorhimself.

Awomanlookedroundthecornerofthehouse.Shehadonacolouredoverallandherhairwasuntidy.

"Stopit,Ernie,"shesaid.

"Shan't,"saidErnieandcontinued.

Poirotdesertedthedoorstepandmadeforthecornerofthehouse.

"Can'tdoanythingwithchildren,canyou?"thewomansaid.

Poirotthoughtyoucould,butforboretosayso.

Hewasbeckonedroundtothebackdoor.

"Ikeepthefrontboltedup,sir.Comein,won'tyou?"

Poirotpassedthroughaverydirtysculleryintoanalmostmoredirtykitchen.

"Shewasn'tkilledhere,"saidthewoman."Intheparlour."

Poirotblinkedslightly.

"That'swhatyou'redownabout,isn'tit?You'retheforeigngentlemanfromupatSummerhayes?"

"Soyouknowallaboutme?"saidPoirot.Hebeamed."Yes,indeed,Mrs-"

"Kiddle.Myhusband'saplasterer.Movedinfourmonthsago,wedid.BeenlivingwithBert'smother
before...Somefolkssaid:'You'dnevergointoahousewherethere'sbeenamurder,surely?'-butwhatI
saidwas,ahouseisahouse,andbetterthanabacksitting-roomandsleepingontwochairs.Awful,this
'ousingshortage,isn'tit?Andanywaywe'veneverbeentroubled'ere.Alwayssaytheywalkifthey've
beenmurdered,butshedoesn't!Liketoseewhereithappened?"

Feelinglikeatouristbeingtakenonaconductedtour,Poirotassented.

MrsKiddleledhimintoasmallroomoverburdenedwithaheavyJacobeansuite.Unliketherestofthe
house,itshowednosignsofeverhavingbeenoccupied.

"Downonthefloorshewasandthebackofherheadsplitopen.Didn'thalfgiveMrsElliotaturn.She's
theonewhatfoundher-sheandLarkinwhocomesfromtheCo-opwiththebread.Butthemoneywas
tookfromupstairs.ComealongupandI'llshowyouwhere."

MrsKiddleledthewayupthestaircaseandintoabed-roomwhichcontainedalargechestofdrawer,a
bigbrassbed,somechain,andafineassemblyofbabyclothes,wetanddry.

"Righthereitwas,"saidMrsKiddleproudly.

Poirot looked round him. Hard to visualise that this rampant stronghold of haphazard fecundity was
once the well-scrubbed domain of an elderly woman who was house proud. Here Mrs McGinty had
livedandslept.

"Isupposethisisn'therfurniture?"

"Ohno.HernieceoverinCullavontookawayallthat."

TherewasnothinglefthereofMrsMcGinty.TheKiddieshadcomeandconquered.Lifewasstronger
thandeath.

Fromdownstairstheloudfiercewailofababyarose.

"That'sthebabywokenup,"saidMrsKiddleunnecessarily.

SheplungeddownthestairsandPoirotfollowedher.

Therewasnothinghereforhim.

Hewentnextdoor.

II

"Yes,sir,itwasmefoundher."

MrsElliotwasdramatic.Aneathouse,this,neatandprim.TheonlydramainitwasMrsElliot,atall
gauntdark-hairedwoman,recountingheronemomentofgloriousliving.

"Larkin, the baker, he came and knocked at the door. 'It's Mrs McGinty,' he said, 'we can't make her
hear. Seems she might have been taken bad.' And indeed I thought she might. She wasn't a young
woman, not by any means. And palpitations she'd had, to my certain knowledge. I thought she might
havehadastroke.SoIhurriedover,seeingastherewereonlythetwomen,andnaturallytheywouldn't
liketogointothebedroom."

Poirotacceptedthispieceofproprietywithanassentingmurmur.

"Hurriedupthestairs,Idid.Hewasonthelanding,paleasdeathhewas.NotthatIeverthoughtatthe
time - Well, of course, then I didn't know what had happened. I knocked on the door loud and there
wasn'tanyanswer,soIturnedthehandleandIwentin.Thewholeplacemessedabout-andtheboard
inthefloorup.'It'srobbery,'Isaid.'Butwhere'sthepoorsoulherself?'Andthenwethoughttolookin
thesitting-room.Andthereshewas...Downonthefloorwithherpoorheadstovein.Murder!Isawat
once what it was - murder! Couldn't be anything else! Robbery and murder! Here in Broadhinny. I
screamedandIscreamed!Quiteajobtheyhadwithme.Cameoverallfaint,Idid.Theyhadtogoand
getmebrandyfromtheThreeDucks.AndeventhenIwasallofashiverforhoursandhours.'Don't
youtakeonso,mother,'that'swhatthesergeantsaidtomewhenhecame.'Don'tyoutakeonso.Yougo
homeandmakeyourselfanicecupoftea.'AndsoIdid.AndwhenElliotcamehome,'Why,whatever's
happened?'hesays,staringatme.StillallofatrembleIwas.Alwayswassensitivefromachild."

Poirotdexterouslyinterruptedthisthrillingpersonalnarrative.

"Yes,yes,onecanseethat.AndwhenwasthelasttimeyouhadseenpoorMrsMcGinty?"

"Musthavebeenthedaybefore,whenshe'dsteppedoutintothebackgardentopickabitofmint.Iwas
justfeedingthechickens."

"Didshesayanythingtoyou?"

"Justgoodafternoonandweretheylayinganybetter."

"Andthat'sthelasttimeyousawher?Youdidn'tseeheronthedayshedied?"

"No. I saw him though." Mrs Elliot lowered her voice. "About eleven o'clock in the morning. Just
walkingalongtheroad.Shufflinghisfeetthewayhealwaysdid."

Poirotwaited,butitseemedthattherewasnothingtoadd.

Heasked:

"Wereyousurprisedwhenthepolicearrestedhim?"

"Well,IwasandIwasn't.Mindyou,I'dalwaysthoughthewasabitdaft.Andnodoubtaboutit,these
daft ones do turn nasty, sometimes. My uncle had a feeble-minded boy, and he could go very nasty
sometimes-ashegrewup,thatwas.Didn'tknowhisstrength.Yes,thatBentleywasdaftallright,andI
shouldn'tbesurprisediftheydon'thanghimwhenitcomestoit,butsendshimtotheasyluminstead.
Why, look at the place he hid the money. No one would hide money in a place like that unless he
wantedittobefound.Justsillyandsimplelike,that'swhathewas."

"Unless he wanted it found," murmured Poirot. "You did not, by any chance, miss a chopper - or an
axe?"

"No,sir,Ididnot.Thepoliceaskedmethat.Askedallofusinthecottageshere.It'samysterystillwhat
hekilledherwith."

III

HerculePoirotwalkedtowardsthepostoffice.

The murderer had wanted the money found, but he had not wanted the weapon to be found. For the
moneywouldpointtoJamesBentleyandtheweaponwouldpointto-whom?

He shook his head. He had visited the other two cottages. They had been less exuberant than Mrs
Kiddle and less dramatic than Mrs Elliot. They had said in effect that Mrs McGinty was a very
respectablewomanwhokeptherselftoherself,thatshehadanieceoveratCullavon,thatnobodybut
the said niece ever came to see her, that nobody, so far as they knew, disliked her or bore a grudge
againsther,thatwasittruethattherewasapetitionbeinggotupforJamesBentleyandwouldtheybe
askedtosignit?

"I get nowhere - nowhere," said Poirot to himself. "There is nothing - no little gleam. I can well
understand the despair of Superintendent Spence. But it should be different for me. Superintendent
Spence, he is a very good and painstaking police officer, but me, I am Hercule Poirot. For me, there
shouldbeillumination!"

Oneofhispatentleathershoessloppedintoapuddleandhewinced.

Hewasthegreat,theuniqueHerculePoirot,buthewasalsoaveryoldmanandhisshoesweretight.

Heenteredthepostoffice.

Theright-handsidewasgiventothebusinessofHisMajesty'smails.Theleft-handsidedisplayedarich
assortment of varied merchandise, comprising sweets, groceries, toys, hardware, stationery, birthday
cards,knittingwoolandchildren'sunderclothes.

Poirotproceededtoaleisurelypurchaseofstamps.

Thewomanwhobustledforwardtoattendtohimwasmiddle-agedwithsharp,brighteyes.

"Here,"saidPoirottohimself,"isundoubtedlythebrainsofthevillageofBroadhinny."

Hername,notinappropriately,wasMrsSweetiman.

"Andtwelvepennies,"saidMrsSweetiman,deftlyextractingthemfromalargebook."That'sfourand
ten-pencealtogether.Willtherebeanythingmore,sir?"

She fixed a bright eager glance on him. Through the door at the back a girl's head showed listening
avidly.Shehaduntidyhairandacoldinthehead.

"Iambywayofbeingastrangerintheseparts,"saidPoirotsolemnly.

"That'sright,sir,"agreedMrsSweetiman."ComedownfromLondon,haven'tyou?"

"IexpectyouknowmybusinesshereaswellasIdo,"saidPoirotwithaslightsmile.

"Ohno,sir,I'vereallynoidea,"saidMrsSweetimaninawhollyperfunctorymanner.

"MrsMcGinty,"saidPoirot.

MrsSweetimanshookherhead.

"Thatwasasadbusiness-ashockingbusiness."

"Iexpectyouknewherwell?"

"OhIdid.AswellasanyoneinBroadhinny,Ishouldsay.She'dalwayspassthetimeofdaywithme
whenshecameinhereforanylittlething.Yes,itwasaterribletragedy.Andnotsettledyet,orsoI've
heardpeoplesay."

"Thereisadoubt-insomequarters-astoJamesBentley'sguilt."

"Well,"saidMrsSweetiman,"itwouldn'tbethefirsttimethepolicegotholdofthewrongman-though
Iwouldn'tsaytheyhadinthiscase.NotthatIshouldhavethoughtitofhimreally.Ashyawkwardsort
offellow,butnotdangerousorsoyou'dthink.Butthere,youneverknow,doyou?"

Poirothazardedarequestfornotepaper.

"Ofcourse,sir.Justcomeacrosstheotherside,willyou?"

MrsSweetimanbustledroundtotakeherplacebehindtheleft-handcounter.

"What's difficult to imagine is, who it could have been if it wasn't Mr Bentley," she remarked as she
stretched up to a top shelf for notepaper and envelopes. "We do get some nasty tramps along here
sometimes,andit'spossibleoneofthesemighthavefoundawindowunfastenedandgotinthatway.
But he wouldn't go leaving the money behind him, would he? Not after doing murder to get it - and
poundnotesanyway,nothingwithnumbersormarked.Hereyouare,sir,that'saniceblueBond,and
envelopestomatch."

Poirotmadehispurchase.

"MrsMcGintyneverspokeofbeingnervousofanyone,orafraid,didshe?"heasked.

"Nottome,shedidn't.Shewasn'tanervouswoman.She'dstaylatesometimesatMrCarpenter's-that's
Holmeleigh at the top of the hill. They often have people to dinner and stopping with them, and Mrs
McGintywouldgothereintheeveningsometimestohelpwashup,andshe'dcomedownthehillinthe
dark,andthat'smorethanI'dliketodo.Verydarkitis.Comingdownthathill."

"Doyouknowhernieceatall-MrsBurch?"

"Iknowherjusttospeakto.Sheandherhusbandcomeoversometimes."

"TheyinheritedalittlemoneywhenMrsMcGintydied."

Thepiercingdarkeyeslookedathimseverely.

"Well,that'snaturalenough,isn'tit,sir?Youcan'ttakeitwithyou,andit'sonlyrightyourownflesh
andbloodshouldgetit."

"Ohyes,ohyes,Iamentirelyinagreement.WasMrsMcGintyfondofherniece?"

"Veryfondofher,Ithink,sir.Inaquietway."

"Andherniece'shusband?"

AnevasivelookappearedinMrsSweetiman'sface.

"AsfarasIknow."

"WhendidyouseeMrsMcGintylast?"

MrsSweetimanconsidered,castinghermindback.

"Nowletmesee,whenwasit,Edna?"Edna,inthedoorway,sniffedunhelpfully."Wasitthedayshe
died?No,itwasthedaybefore-orthedaybeforethatagain?Yes,itwasaMonday.That'sright.She
waskilledontheWednesday.Yes,itwasMonday.Shecameintobuyabottleofink."

"Shewantedabottleofink?"

"Expectshewantedtowritealetter,"saidMrsSweetimanbrightly.

"Thatseemsprobable.Andshewasquiteherusualself,then?Shedidnotseemdifferentinanyway?"

"N-no,Idon'tthinkso."

ThesniffingEdnashuffledthroughthedoorintotheshopandsuddenlyjoinedintheconversation.

"Shewasdifferent,"sheasserted."Pleasedaboutsomething-well-notpleasedquite-excited."

"Perhapsyou'reright,"saidMrsSweetiman."NotthatInoticeditatthetime.Butnowthatyousayso-
sortofspry,shewas."

"Doyourememberanythingshesaidonthatday?"

"Iwouldn'tordinarily.Butwhatwithherbeingmurderedandthepoliceandeverything,itmakesthings
standout.Shedidn'tsayanythingaboutJamesBentley,thatI'mquitesure.TalkedabouttheCarpenters
abitandMrsUpward-placeswheresheworked,youknow."

"Ohyes,Iwasgoingtoaskyouwhomexactlysheworkedforhere."

MrsSweetimanrepliedpromptly:

"Mondays and Thursdays she went to Mrs Summerhayes at Long Meadow. That's where you are
staying,isn'tit?"

"Yes."Poirotsighed."Isupposethereisnotanywhereelsetostay?"

"Not right in Broadhinny, there isn't. I suppose you aren't very comfortable at Long Meadows? Mrs
Summerhayesisaniceladybutshedoesn'tknowthefirstthingaboutahouse.Theseladiesdon'twho
come back from foreign parts. Terrible mess there always was there to clean up, or so Mrs McGinty
used to say. Yes, Monday afternoons and Thursday mornings Mrs Summerhayes, then Tuesday
mornings Dr Rendell's and afternoons Mrs Upward, at Laburnums. Wednesday was Mrs Wetherby at
Hunter'sCloseandFridayMrsSelkirk-MrsCarpentersheisnow.MrsUpward'sanelderlyladywho
liveswithherson.They'vegotamaid,butshe'sgettingonandMrsMcGintyusedtogoonceaweekto
givethingsagoodturnout.MrandMrsWetherbyneverseemtokeepanyhelplong-she'sratheran
invalid.MrandMrsCarpenterhaveabeautifulhomeanddoalotofentertaining.They'reallverynice
people."

It was with this final pronouncement on the population of Broadhinny that Poirot went out into the
streetagain.

HewalkedslowlyupthehilltowardsLongMeadow.Hehopeddevoutlythatthecontentsofthebulged
tinandthebloodstainedbeanshadbeendulyeatenforlunchandhadnotbeensavedforasuppertreat
forhim.Butpossiblytherewereotherdoubtfultins.LifeatLongMeadowscertainlyhaditsdangers.

Ithadbeen,onthewhole,adisappointingday.

Whathadhelearned?

That James Bentley had a friend. That neither he nor Mrs McGinty had had any enemies. That Mrs
McGintyhadlookedexcitedtwodaysbeforeherdeathandhadboughtabottleofink-

Poirotstoppeddead...Wasthatafact,atinyfactatlast?

Hehadaskedidly,whatMrsMcGintyshouldwantwithabottleofink,andMrsSweetimanhadreplied,
quiteseriously,thatshesupposedshewantedtowritealetter...

There was significance there - a significance that had nearly escaped him because to him, as to most
people,writingaletterwasacommoneverydayoccurrence.

ButitwasnotsotoMrsMcGinty.WritingaletterwastoMrsMcGintysuchanuncommonoccurrence
thatshehadtogooutandbuyabottleofinkifshewantedtodoso.

Mrs McGinty, then, hardly ever wrote letters. Mrs Sweetiman, who was the postmistress, was
thoroughlycognisantofthatfact.ButMrsMcGintyhadwrittenalettertwodaysbeforeherdeath.To
whomhadshewrittenandwhy?

Itmightbequiteunimportant.Shemighthavewrittentoherniece-toanabsentfriend.Absurdtolay
suchstressonasimplethinglikeabottleofink.

Butitwasallhehadgotandhewasgoingtofollowitup.

Abottleofink...

Chapter8

"Aletter?"BessieBurchshookherhead."No,Ididn'tgetanyletterfromAuntie.Whatshouldshewrite
tomeabout?"

Poirotsuggested:"Theremighthavebeensomethingshewantedtotellyou."

"Auntiewasn'tmuchofaoneforwriting.Shewasgettingonforseventy,youknow,andwhenshewas
youngtheydidn'tgetmuchschooling."

"Butshecouldreadandwrite?"

"Oh,ofcourse.Notmuchofaoneforreading,thoughshelikedherNewsoftheWorldandherSunday
Companion.Butwritingcameabitdifficultalways.Ifshe'danythingtoletmeknowabout,likeputting
usofffromcomingtoseeher,orsayingshecouldn'tcometous,she'dusuallyringupMrBenson,the
chemist next door, and he'd send the message in. Very obliging that way, he is. You see, we're in the
area,soitonlycosttwopence.There'sacall-boxatthepostofficeinBroadhinny."

Poirot nodded. He appreciated the fact that twopence was better than twopence ha'penny. He already
had a picture of Mrs McGinty as the spare and saving kind. She had been, he thought, very fond of
money.

Hepersistedgently:

"Butyourauntdidwritetoyousometimes,Isuppose?"

"Well,therewerecardsatXmas."

"AndperhapsshehadfriendsinotherpartsofEnglandtowhomshewrote?"

"Idon'tknowaboutthat.Therewashersister-in-law,butshediedtwoyearsagoandtherewasaMrs
Birdlip-butshe'sdeadtoo."

"So,ifshewrotetosomeone,itwouldbemostlikelyinanswertoalettershehadreceived?"

AgainBessieBurchlookeddoubtful.

"I don't know who'd be writing to her, I'm sure. Of course," her face brightened, "there's always the
Government."

Poirot agreed that in these days, communications from what Bessie loosely referred to as "the
Government"weretherule,ratherthantheexception.

"And a lot of fandangle it usually is," said Mrs Burch. "Forms to fill in, and a lot of impertinent
questionsasshouldn'tbeaskedofanydecentbody."

"SoMrsMcGintymighthavegotsomeGovernmentcommunicationthatshehadtoanswer?"

"If she had, she'd have brought it along to Joe, so as he could help her with it. Those sort of things
fussedherandshealwaysbroughtthemtoJoe."

"Canyourememberiftherewereanylettersamongherpersonalpossessions?"

"I couldn't rightly say. I don't remember anything. But then the police took over at first. It wasn't for
quiteawhiletheyletmepackherthingsandtakethemaway."

"Whathappenedtothosethings?"

"Thatchestoverthereishers-goodsolidmahogany,andthere'sawardrobeupstairs,andsomegood
kitchenstuff.Therestwesoldbecausewe'dnoroomforthem."

"Imeantherownpersonalthings."Headded:"Suchthingsasbrushesandcombs,photographs,toilet
things,clothes..."

"Oh,them.Well,tellyouthetruth,Ipackedtheminasuitcaseandit'sstillupstairs.Didn'trightlyknow
whattodowiththem.ThoughtI'dtaketheclothestothejumblesaleatXmas,butIforgot.Didn'tseem
nicetotakethemtooneofthosenastysecond-handclothespeople."

"Iwonder-mightIseethecontentsofthatsuitcase?"

"Welcome,I'msure.ThoughIdon'tthinkyou'llfindanythingtohelpyou.Thepolicewentthroughit
all,youknow."

"OhIknow.But,allthesame-"

Mrs Burch led him briskly into a minute back bedroom, used, Poirot judged, mainly for home
dressmaking.Shepulledoutasuitcasefromunderthebedandsaid:

"Well,hereyouare,andyou'llexcusemestopping,butI'vegotthestewtoseeto."

Poirotgratefullyexcusedher,andheardherthumpingdownstairsagain.Hedrewthesuitcasetowards
himandopenedit.

Awaftofmothballscameouttogreethim.

Withafeelingofpity,heliftedoutthecontents,soeloquentintheirrevelationofawomanwhowas
dead.Aratherwornlongblackcoat.Twowoollenjumpers.Acoatandskirt.Stockings.Nounderwear
(presumably Bessie Burch had taken those for her own wear). Two pairs of shoes wrapped up in
newspaper.Abrushandcomb,wornbutclean.Anolddentedsilver-backedmirror.Aphotographina
leatherframeofaweddingpairdressedinthestyleofthirtyyearsago-apictureofMrsMcGintyand
herhusbandpresumably.TwopicturepostcardsofMargate.Achinadog.Arecipetornoutofapaper
formakingvegetablemarrowjam.Anotherpiecedealingwith"FlyingSaucers"onasensationalnote.A
thirdclippingdealtwithMotherShipton'sprophecies.TherewasalsoaBibleandaPrayerBook.

Therewerenohandbags,orgloves.PresumablyBessieBurchhadtakenthese,orgiventhemaway.The
clotheshere,Poirotjudged,wouldhavebeentoosmallforthebuxomBessie.MrsMcGintyhadbeena
thin,sparewoman.

He unwrapped one of the pairs of shoes. They were of quite good quality and not much worn.
DecidedlyonthesmallsideforBessieButch.

Hewasjustabouttowrapthemupneatlyagainwhenhiseyewascaughtbytheheadingonthepieceof
newspaper. It was the Sunday Companion and the date was November 19th. Mrs McGinty had been
killedonNovember22nd.

This then was the paper she had bought on the Sunday preceding her death. It had been lying in her
roomandBessieButchhaduseditinduecoursetowrapupheraunt'sthings.

Sunday,November19th.AndonMondayMrsMcGintyhadgoneintothepostofficetobuyabottleof
ink...

CouldthatbebecauseofsomethingshehadseeninSunday'snewspaper?

Heunwrappedtheotherpairofshoes.TheywerewrappedintheNewsoftheWorldofthesamedate.

He smoothed out both papers and took them over to a chair where he sat down to read them. And at
oncehemadeadiscovery.OnonepageoftheSundayCompanion,somethinghadbeencutout.Itwasa
rectangularpieceoutofthemiddlepage.Thespacewastoobigforanyoftheclippingshehadfound.

Helookedthroughbothnewspapers,butcouldfindnothingelseofinterest.Hewrappedthemroundthe
shoesagainandpackedthesuitcasetidily.

Thenhewentdownstairs.

MrsBurchwasbusyinthekitchen.

"Don'tsupposeyoufoundanything?"shesaid.

"Alas,no."Headdedinacasualvoice:"Doyourememberiftherewasacuttingfromanewspaperin
youraunt'spurseorinherhandbag,wasthere?"

"Can'trememberany.Perhapsthepolicetookit."

Butthepolicehadnottakenit.ThatPoirotknewfromhisstudyofSpence'snotes.Thecontentsofthe
deadwoman'shandbaghadbeenlisted,nonewspapercuttingwasamongthem.

"Ehbien,"saidHerculePoirottohimself."Thenextstepiseasy.Itwillbeeitherthewash-out-orelse,
atlast,Iadvance."

II

Sitting very still, with the dusty files of newspaper in front of him, Poirot told himself that his
recognitionofthesignificanceofthebottleofinkhadnotplayedhimfalse.

TheSundayCompanionwasgiventoromanticdramatizationsofpastevents.

ThepaperatwhichPoirotwaslookingwastheSundayCompanionofSunday,November19th.

Atthetopofthemiddlepagewerethesewordsinbigtype:

WomenVictimsofBygoneTragedies

Wherearethesewomennow?

Belowthecaptionwerefourveryblurredreproductionsofphotographsclearlytakenmanyyearsago.

The subjects of them did not look tragic. They looked, actually, rather ridiculous, since nearly all of
them were dressed in the style of a bygone day, and nothing is more ridiculous than the fashions of
yesterday-thoughinanotherthirtyyearsorsotheircharmmayhavereappeared,oratanyratebeonce
moreapparent.

Undereachphotowasaname.

EvaKane,the"otherwoman"inthefamousCraigcase.

JaniceCourtland,the"tragicwife"whosehusbandwasafiendinhumanform.

LittleLilyGamboll,tragicchildproductofourovercrowdedage.

VeraBlake,unsuspectingwifeofakiller.

Andthencamethequestioninboldtypeagain:

Wherearethesewomennow?

Poirot blinked and set himself to read meticulously the somewhat romantic prose which gave the life
storiesofthesedimandblurryheroines.

ThenameofEvaKaneheremembered,fortheCraigCasehadbeenaverycelebratedone.AlfredCraig
hadbeenTownClerkofParminster,aconscientious,rathernondescriptlittleman,correctandpleasant
inhisbehaviour.Hehadhadthemisfortunetomarryatiresomeandtemperamentalwife.MrsCraigran
him into debt, bullied him, nagged him, and suffered from nervous maladies that unkind friends said
were entirely imaginary. Eva Kane was the young nursery governess in the house. She was nineteen,
pretty,helplessandrathersimple.ShefelldesperatelyinlovewithCraigandhewithher.Thenoneday
the neighbors heard that Mrs Craig had been "ordered abroad" for her health. That had been Craig's
story.HetookheruptoLondon,thefirststageofthejourney,bycarlateoneevening,and"sawheroff"
totheSouthofFrance.ThenhereturnedtoParminsterandatintervalsmentionedhowhimwife'shealth
was no better by her accounts of it in letters. Eva Kane remained behind to housekeep for him, and
tonguessoonstartedwagging.Finally,Craigreceivednewsofhiswife'sdeathabroad.Hewentaway
andreturnedaweeklater,withanaccountofthefuneral.

Insomeways,Craigwasasimpleman.Hemadethemistakeofmentioningwherehiswifehaddied,a
moderatelywell-knownresortontheFrenchRiviera.Itonlyremainedforsomeonewhohadarelative
orfriendlivingtheretowritetothem,discoverthattherehadbeennodeathorfuneralofanyoneofthat
nameand,afteraperiodofrankgossip,tocommunicatewiththepolice.

Subsequenteventscanbebrieflysummarised.

MrsCraighadnotleftfortheRiviera.ShehadbeencutinneatpiecesandburiedintheCraigcellar.
Andtheautopsyoftheremainsshowedpoisoningbyavegetablealkaloid.

Craigwasarrestedandsentfortrial.EvaKanewasoriginallychargedasanaccessory,butthecharge
was dropped, since it appeared clear that she had throughout been completely ignorant of what had
occurred.Craigintheendmadeafullconfessionandwassentencedandexecuted.

Eva Kane, who was expecting a child, left Parminster and, in the words of the Sunday Companion:
Kindly relatives in the New World offered her a home. Changing her name, the pitiful young girl,
seducedinhertrustingyouthbyacold-bloodedmurderer,lefttheseshoresforever,tobeginanewlife
andtokeepforeverlockedinherheartandconcealedfromherdaughterthenameofherfather.

"Mydaughtershallgrowuphappyandinnocent.Herlifeshallnotbestainedbythecruelpast.ThatI
havesworn.Mytragicmemoriesshallremainminealone."

PoorfrailtrustingEvaKane.Tolearn,soyoung,thevillainyandinfamyofman.Whereisshenow?Is
there, in some Midwestern town, an elderly woman, quiet and respected by her neighbours, who has,
perhaps,sadeyes...Anddoesayoungwoman,happyandcheerful,withchildren,perhaps,ofherown,
comeandsee"Momma,"tellingherofallthelittlerubsandgrievancesofdailylife-withnoideaof
whatpastsufferingshermotherhasendured?

"Ohlala!"saidHerculePoirot.AndpassedontothenextTragicVictim.

Janice Courtland, the "tragic wife," had certainly been unfortunate in her husband. His peculiar
practices,referredtoinsuchaguardedwayastorouseinstantcuriosity,hadbeensufferedbyherfor
eightyears.Eightyearsofmartyrdom,theSundayCompanionsaidfirmly.ThenJanicemadeafriend.
Anidealisticandunworldlyyoungmanwho,horrifiedbyascenebetweenhusbandandwifethathehad
witnessedbyaccident,hadthereuponassaultedthehusbandwithsuchvigourthatthelatterhadcrashed
in his skull on a sharply-edged marble fire surround. The jury had found that provocation had been
intense, that the young idealist had had no intention of killing, and a sentence of five years for
manslaughterwasgiven.

ThesufferingJanice,horrifiedbyallthepublicitythecasehadbroughther,hadgoneabroad"toforget."

Has she forgotten? asked the Sunday Companion. We hope so. Somewhere, perhaps, is a happy wife
andmothertowhomthoseyearsofnightmaresufferingsilentlyendured,seemnowonlylikeadream...

"Well, well," said Hercule Poirot and passed on to Lily Gamboll, the tragic child product of our
overcrowdedage.

Lily Gamboll had, it seemed, been removed from her overcrowded home. An aunt had assumed
responsibilityforLily'slife.Lilyhadwantedtogotothepictures,Aunthadsaid"No."LilyGamboll
hadpickedupthemeatchopperwhichwaslyingconvenientlyonthetableandhadaimedablowather
aunt with it. The aunt, though autocratic, was small and frail. The blow killed her. Lily was a well-
developedandmuscularchildforhertwelveyears.AnapprovedschoolhadopeneditsdoorsandLily
haddisappearedfromtheeverydayscene.

Bynowsheisawoman,freeagaintotakeherplaceinourcivilization.Herconduct,duringheryearsof
confinementandprobation,issaidtohavebeenexemplary.Doesnotthisshowthatitisnotthechild,
but the system, that we must blame? Brought up in ignorance, in slum conditions, little Lily was the

victimofherenvironment.

Now,havingatonedforhertragiclapse,shelivessomewhere,happily,wehope,agoodcitizenanda
goodwifeandmother.PoorlittleLilyGamboll.

Poirotshookhishead.Achildoftwelvewhotookaswingatherauntwithameatchopperandhither
hardenoughtokillherwasnot,inhisopinion,anicechild.Hissympathieswere,inthiscase,withthe
aunt.

HepassedontoVeraBlake.

VeraBlakewasclearlyoneofthosewomenwithwhomeverything,goeswrong.Shehadfirsttakenup
withaboyfriendwhoturnedouttobeagangsterwantedbythepoliceforkillingabankwatchman.She
had then married a respectable tradesman who turned out to be a receiver of stolen goods. Her two
children had likewise, in due course, attracted the attention of the police. They went with mamma to
departmentstoresanddidaprettylineinshoplifting.Finally,however,a"goodman"hadappearedon
thescene.HehadofferedtragicVeraahomeintheDominions.Sheandherchildrenshouldleavethis
effetecountry.

From henceforward a New Life awaited them. At last, after long years of repeated blows from Fate,
Vera'stroublesareover.

"Iwonder,"saidPoirotsceptically."Verypossiblyshewillfindshehasmarriedaconfidencetrickster
whoworkstheliners!"

Heleantbackandstudiedthefourphotographs.EvaKanewithtousledcurlyhairoverherearsandan
enormous hat, held a bunch of roses up to her ear like a telephone receiver. Janice Courtland had a
clochehatpusheddownoverherearsandawaistroundherhips.LilyGambollwasaplainchildwith
an adenoidal appearance of open mouth, hard breathing and thick spectacles. Vera Blake was so
tragicallyblackandwhitethatnofeaturesshowed.

ForsomereasonMrsMcGintyhadtornoutthisfeature,photographsandall.Why?Justtokeepbecause
thestoriesinterestedher?Hethoughtnot.MrsMcGintyhadkeptveryfewthingsduringhersixty-odd
yearsoflife.Poirotknewthatfromthepolicereportsofherbelongings.

ShehadtornthisoutontheSundayandontheMondayshehadboughtabottleofinkandtheinference
was that she, who never wrote letters, was about to write a letter. If it had been a business letter, she
wouldprobablyhaveaskedJoeBurchtohelpher.Soithadnotbeenbusiness.Ithadbeen-what?

Poirot'seyelookedoverthefourphotographsonceagain.

Where,theSundayCompanionasked,arethesewomennow?

Oneofthem,Poirotthought,mighthavebeeninBroadhinnylastNovember.

III

ItwasnotuntilthefollowingdaythatPoirotfoundhimselftêteàtêtewithMissPamelaHorsefall.

MissHorsefallcouldn'tgivehimlong,becauseshehadtorushawaytoSheffield,sheexplained.

MissHorsefallwastall,manly-looking,aharddrinkerandsmoker,anditwouldseem,lookingather,
highly improbable that it was her pen which had dropped such treacly sentiment in the Sunday
Companion.Neverthelessitwasso.

"Coughitup,coughitup,"saidMissHorsefallimpatientlytoPoirot."Wegottobegoing."

"ItisaboutyourarticleintheSundayCompanion.LastNovember.TheseriesaboutTragicWomen."

"Oh,thatseries.Prettylousy,weren'tthey?"

Poirotdidnotexpressanopiniononthatpoint.Hesaid:

"IreferinparticulartothearticleonWomenAssociatedwithCrimethatappearedonNovember19th.It
concernedEvaKane,VeraBlake,JaniceCourtlandandLilyGamboll."

MissHorsefallgrinned.

"Wherearethesetragicwomennow?Iremember."

"Isupposeyousometimesgetlettersaftertheappearanceofthesearticles?"

"YoubetIdo!Somepeopleseemtohavenothingbettertodothanwriteletters.Somebody'oncesaw
themurdererCraigwalkingdownthestreet.'Somebodywouldliketotellme'thestoryofherlife,far
moretragicthananythingIcouldeverimagine.'"

"DidyougetaletteraftertheappearanceofthatarticlefromaMrsMcGintyofBroadhinny?"

"My dear man, how on earth should I know? I get buckets of letters. How should I remember one
particularname?"

"Ithoughtyoumightremember,"saidPoirot,"becauseafewdayslaterMrsMcGintywasmurdered."

"Nowyou'retalking."MissHorsefallforgottobeimpatienttogettoSheffield,andsatdownastridea
chair."McGinty-McGinty...Idorememberthename.Conkedontheheadbyherlodger.Notavery
excitingcrimefromthepointofviewofthepublic.Nosexappealaboutit.Yousaythewomanwroteto
me?"

"ShewrotetotheSundayCompanion,Ithink."

"Samething.Itwouldcomeontome.Andwiththemurder-andhernamebeinginthenews-surelyI
shouldremember-"Shestopped."Lookhere-itwasn'tfromBroadhinny.ItwasfromBroadway."

"Soyoudoremember?"

"Well,I'mnotsure...Butthename...Comicname,isn'tit?McGinty!Yes-atrociouswritingandquite
illiterate.IfI'donlyrealised...ButI'msureitcamefromBroadway."

Poirotsaid:"Yousayyourselfthewritingwasbad.BroadwayandBroadhinny-theycouldlookalike."

"Yes-mightbeso.Afterall,onewouldn'tbelikelytoknowthesequeerruralnames.McGinty-yes.I
dorememberdefinitely.Perhapsthemurderfixedthenameforme."

"Canyourememberwhatshesaidinherletter?"

"Somethingaboutaphotograph.Sheknewwheretherewasaphotographlikeinthepaper-andwould
wepayheranythingforitandhowmuch?"

"Andyouanswered?"

"Mydearman,wedon'twantanythingofthatkind.Wesentbackthestandardreply.Politethanksbut
nothingdoing.ButaswesentittoBroadway-Idon'tsupposeshe'devergetit."

"Sheknewwheretherewasaphotograph..."

IntoPoirot'smindtherecamebackaremembrance.MaureenSummerhayes'carelessvoicesaying,"Of
courseshesnoopedroundabit."

MrsMcGintyhadsnooped.Shewashonest,butshelikedtoknowaboutthings.Andpeoplekeptthings
-foolish,meaninglessthingsfromthepast.Keptthemforsentimentalreasons,orjustoverlookedthem
anddidn'tremembertheywerethere.

Mrs McGinty had seen an old photograph and later she had recognised it reproduced in the Sunday
Companion.Andshehadwonderediftherewasanymoneyinit...

Herosebriskly."Thankyou,MissHorsefall.Youwillpardonme,butthosenotesonthecasesthatyou
wrote,weretheyaccurate?Inotice,forinstance,thattheyearoftheCraigtrialisgivenwrongly-itwas
actuallyayearlaterthanyousay.AndintheCourtlandcase,thehusband'snamewasHerbert,Iseemto
remember,notHubert.LilyGamboll'sauntlivedinBuckinghamshire,notBerkshire."

MissHorsefallwavedacigarette.

"Mydearman.Nopointinaccuracy.Wholethingwasaromanticfarragofrombeginningtoend.Ijust
muggedupthefactsabitandthenletflywithalotofhouha."

"What I am trying to say is that even the characters of your heroines are not, perhaps, quite as
represented."

Pamelaletoutaneighingsoundlikeahorse.

"Coursetheyweren't.Whatdoyouthink?I'venodoubtthatEvaKanewasathoroughlittlebitch,and
notaninjuredinnocentatall.AndasfortheCourtlandwoman,whydidshesufferinsilenceforeight
yearswithasadisticpervert?Becausehewasrollinginmoney,andtheromanticfriendhadn'tany."

"Andthetragicchild,LilyGamboll?"

"Iwouldn'tcaretohavehergambollingaboutmewithameatchopper."

Poirottickedoffonhisfingers.

"Theyleftthecountry-theywenttotheNewWorld-abroad-'totheDominions'-'tostartaNewLife.'
Andthereisnothingtoshow,isthere,thattheydidnot,subsequently,comebacktothiscountry?"

"Notathing,"agreedMissHorsefall."Andnow-Ireallymustfly-"

LaterthatnightPoirotrangupSpence.

"I'vebeenwonderingaboutyou,Poirot.Haveyougotanything?Anythingatall?"

"Ihavemademyinquiries,"saidPoirotgrimly.

"Yes?"

"Andtheresultofthemisthis:ThepeoplewholiveinBroadhinnyareallverynicepeople."

"Whatdoyoumeanbythat,M.Poirot?"

"Oh,myfriend,consider.'Verynicepeople.'Thathasbeen,beforenow,amotiveformurder."

Chapter9

"Allverynicepeople,"murmuredPoirotasheturnedinatthegateofCrossways,nearthestation.

AbrassplateinthedoorpostannouncedthatDrRendell,M.D.,livedthere.

DrRendellwasalargecheerfulmanofforty.Hegreetedhisguestwithdefiniteempressement.

"Ourquietlittlevillageishonoured,"hesaid,"bythepresenceofthegreatHerculePoirot."

"Ah,"saidPoirot.Hewasgratified."Youhave,then,heardofme?"

"Ofcoursewehaveheardofyou.Whohasn't?"

TheanswertothatwouldhavebeendamagingtoPoirot'sself-esteem.Hemerelysaidpolitely:"Iam
fortunatetofindyouathome."

Itwasnotparticularlyfortunate.Itwas,onthecontrary,astutetiming.ButDrRendellrepliedheartily:

"Yes.Justcaughtme.Surgeryinaquarterofanhour.NowwhatcanIdoforyou?I'mdevouredwith
curiositytoknowwhatyou'redoingdownhere.Arestcure?Orhavewecrimeinourmidst?"

"Inthepasttense-notthepresent."

"Past?Idon'tremember-"

"MrsMcGinty."

"Ofcourse.Ofcourse.Iwasforgetting.Butdon'tsayyou'reconcernedwiththat-atthislatedate?"

"IfImaymentionthistoyouinconfidence,Iamemployedbythedefence.Freshevidenceonwhichto
lodgeanappeal."

DrRendellsaidsharply:"Butwhatfreshevidencecantherebe?"

"That,alas,Iamnotatlibertytostate-"

"Oh,quite-pleaseforgiveme."

"ButIhavecomeacrosscertainthingswhichare,Imaysay-verycurious-very-howshallIputit?-
suggestive? I came to you, Dr Rendell, because I understand that Mrs McGinty occasionally was
employedhere."

"Ohyes,yes-shewas-Whataboutadrink?Sherry?Whisky?Youprefersherry?SodoI."Hebrought
two glasses and, sitting down by Poirot, he went on: "She used to come once a week to do extra
cleaning.I'vegotaverygoodhousekeeper-excellent-butthebrasses-andscrubbingthekitchenfloor
-well,myMrsScottcan'tgetdownonherkneesverywell.MrsMcGintywasanexcellentworker."

"Doyouthinkthatshewasatruthfulperson?"

"Truthful?Well,that'sanoddquestion.Idon'tthinkIcouldsay-noopportunityofknowing.AsfarasI
knowshewasquitetruthful."

"Ifthenshemadeastatementtoanyone,youthinkthatstatementwouldprobablybetrue?"

DrRendelllookedfaintlydisturbed.

"Oh,Iwouldn'tliketogoasfarasthat.Ireallyknowsolittleabouther.IcouldaskMrsScott.She'd
knowbetter."

"No,no.Itwouldbebetternottodothat."

"You'rearousingmycuriosity,"saidDrRendellgenially."Whatwasitshewasgoingaroundsaying?
Somethingabitlibellous,wasit?Slanderous,IsupposeImean."

Poirotmerelyshookhishead.Hesaid:"Youunderstand,allthisisextremelyhushhushatpresent.Iam
onlyattheverycommencementofmyinvestigation."

DrRendellsaidratherdrily:

"You'llhavetohurryabit,won'tyou?"

"Youareright.Thetimeatmydisposalisshort."

"Imustsayyousurpriseme...We'veallbeenquitesuredownherethatBentleydidit.Theredidn'tseem
anydoubtpossible."

"Itseemedanordinarysordidcrime-notveryinteresting.Thatiswhatyouwouldsay?"

"Yes-yes,thatsumsitupveryfairly."

"YouknewJamesBentley?"

"Hecametoseemeprofessionallyonceortwice.Hewasnervousabouthisownhealth.Coddledbyhis
mother,Ifancy.Oneseesthatsooften.We'veanothercaseinpointhere."

"Ah,indeed?"

"Yes.MrsUpward.LauraUpward.Dotesuponthatsonofhers.Shekeepshimwelltiedtoherapron-
strings.He'sacleverfellow-notquiteascleverashethinkshimself,betweenyouandme-butstill
definitelytalented.BywayofbeingabuddingplaywrightisourRobin."

"Theyhavebeenherelong?"

"Three or four years. Nobody has been in Broadhinny very long. The original village was only a
handfulofcottages,groupedroundLongMeadows.You'restayingthere,Iunderstand?"

"Iam,"saidPoirotwithoutundueelation.

DrRendellappearedamused.

"GuestHouseindeed,"hesaid."WhatthatyoungwomanknowsaboutrunningaGuestHouseisjust
nothingatall.She'slivedinIndiaallhermarriedlifewithservantsrunningroundallovertheplace.I
bet you're uncomfortable. Nobody ever stays long. As for poor old Summerhayes, he'll never make
anything of this market gardening stunt he's trying to run. Nice fellow - but not an idea of the
commerciallife-andthecommerciallifeit'sgottobenowadaysifyouwanttokeepyourheadabove
water. Don't run away with the idea that I heal the sick. I'm just a glorified form-filler and signer of
certificates.IliketheSummerhayes,though.She'sacharmingcreature,andthoughSummerhayeshasa
devilishtemperandisinclinedtobemoody,he'soneoftheoldgang.Outofthetopdrawerallright.
YoushouldhaveknownoldColonelSummerhayes,aregulartartar,proudasthedevil."

"ThatwasMajorSummerhayes'father?"

"Yes.Therewasn'tmuchmoneywhentheoldboydiedandofcoursetherehavebeendeathdutiesto
cripple these people, but they're determined to stick to the old place. One doesn't know whether to
admirethem,orwhethertosay'Sillyfools.'"

Helookedathiswatch.

"Imustnotkeepyou,"saidPoirot.

"I'vegotafewminutesstill.Besides,I'dlikeyoutomeetmywife.Ican'tthinkwheresheis.Shewas
immenselyinterestedtohearyouweredownhere.We'rebothverycrime-minded.Readalotaboutit."

"Criminology,fiction,ortheSundaypapers?"askedPoirotsmiling.

"Allthree."

"DoyoudescendaslowastheSundayCompanion?"

Rendelllaughed.

"WhatwouldSundaybewithoutit?"

"They had some interesting articles above five months ago. One in particular about women who had
beeninvolvedinmurdercasesandthetragedyoftheirlives."

"Yes,Iremembertheoneyoumean.Allalotofhooey,though?"

"Ah,youthinkthat?"

"WellofcoursetheCraigcaseIonlyknowfromreadingaboutit,butoneoftheothers-Courtlandcase,
Icantellyouthatwomanwasnotragicinnocent.Regularviciousbitofgoods.Iknowbecauseanuncle
ofmineattendedherhusband.Hewascertainlynobeauty,buthiswifewasn'tmuchbetter.Shegothold
ofthatyounggreenhornandeggedhimontomurder.Thenhegoestoprisonformanslaughterandshe
goesoff,arichwidow,andmarriessomeoneelse."

"TheSundayCompaniondidnotmentionthat.Doyourememberwhomshemarried?"

Rendellshookhishead.

"Don'tthinkIeverheardthename,butsomeonetoldmethatshe'ddoneprettywellforherself?"

"Onewonderedinreadingthearticlewherethosefourwomenwerenow,"musedPoirot.

"Iknow.Onemayhavemetoneofthematapartylastweek.Ibettheyallkeeptheirpastprettydark.
You'dcertainlyneverrecogniseanyof'emfromthosephotographs.Myword,theylookedaplainlot."

TheclockchimedandPoirotrosetohisfeet."Imustdetainyounolonger.Youhavebeenmostkind."

"Notmuchhelp,I'mafraid.Themeremanbarelyknowswhathischarladylookslike.Buthalfasecond,
youmustmeetthewife.She'dneverforgiveme."

HeprecededPoirotoutintothehall,callingloudly:

"Shelagh-Shelagh-"

Afaintanswercamefromupstairs.

"Comedownhere.I'vegotsomethingforyou."

Athinfair-hairedpalewomanranlightlydownthestairs.

"Here'sMrHerculePoirot,Shelagh.Whatdoyouthinkofthat?"

"Oh," Mrs Rendell appeared to be startled out speaking. Her very pale blue eyes stared at Poirot
apprehensively.

"Madame,"saidPoirot,bowingoverherhandinhismostforeignmanner.

"Weheardthatyouwerehere,"saidShelaghRendell."Butwedidn'tknow-"shebrokeoff.Herlight
eyeswentquicklytoherhusband'sface.

"ItisfromhimshetakestheGreenwichtime,"saidPoirottohimself.

Heutteredafewfloridphrasesandtookhisleave.

AnimpressionremainedwithhimofagenialDrRendellandatongue-tied,apprehensiveMrsRendell.

SomuchfortheRendells,whereMrsMcGintyhadgonetoworkonTuesdaymornings.

II

Hunter'sClosewasasolidlybuiltVictorianhouseapproachedbyalonguntidydriveovergrownwith
weeds.Ithadnotoriginallybeenconsideredabighouse,butwasnowbigenoughtobeinconvenient
domestically.

PoirotinquiredoftheforeignyoungwomanwhoopenedthedoorforMrsWetherby.

Shestaredathimandthensaid:"Idonotknow.Pleasetocome.MissHendersonperhaps?"

Shelefthimstandinginthehall.Itwasinanestateagent'sphrase"fullyfurnished"-withagoodmany
curiosfromvariouspartsoftheworld.Nothinglookedverycleanorwelldusted.

Presently the foreign gift reappeared. She said: "Please to come," and showed him into a chilly little
roomwithalargedesk.Onthemantelpiecewasabigandratherevil-lookingcoppercoffeepotwithan
enormoushookedspoutlikealargehookednose.

ThedooropenedbehindPoirotandagirlcameintotheroom.

"Mymotherislyingdown,"shesaid."CanIdoanythingforyou?"

"YouareMissWetherby?"

"Henderson.MrWetherbyismystepfather."

Shewasaplaingirlofaboutthirty,largeandawkward.Shehadwatchful,anxiouseyes.

"IwasanxioustohearwhatyoucouldtellmeaboutaMrsMcGintywhousedtoworkhere."

Shestaredathim.

"MrsMcGinty?Butshe'sdead."

"Iknowthat,"saidPoirotgently."Nevertheless,Iwouldliketohearabouther."

"Oh.Isitforinsuranceorsomething?"

"Notforinsurance.Itisaquestionoffreshevidence."

"Freshevidence.Youmean-herdeath?"

"I am engaged," said Poirot, "by the solicitors for the defence to make an inquiry on James Bentley's
behalf."

Staringathim,sheasked:"Butdidn'thedoit?"

"Thejurythoughthedid.Butjurieshavebeenknowntomakeamistake."

"Thenitwasreallysomebodyelsewhokilledher?"

"Itmayhavebeen."

Sheaskedabruptly:"Who?"

"That,"saidPoirotsoftly,"isthequestion."

"Idon'tunderstandatall."

"No?ButyoucantellmesomethingaboutMrsMcGinty,can'tyou?"

Shesaidratherreluctantly:

"Isupposeso...Whatdoyouwanttoknow?"

"Well-tobeginwith-whatdidyouthinkofher?"

"Why-nothinginparticular.Shewasjustlikeanybodyelse."

"Talkative or silent? Curious or reserved? Pleasant or morose? A nice woman, or - not a very nice
woman?"

MissHendersonreflected.

"Sheworkedwell-butshetalkedalot.Sometimesshesaidratherfunnythings.Ididn't-really-like
herverymuch."

Thedooropenedandtheforeignhelpsaid:

"MissDeirdre,yourmothersay:pleasetobring."

"Mymotherwantsmetotakethisgentlemanupstairstoher?"

"Yesplease,thankyou."

DeirdreHendersonlookedatPoirotdoubtfully."Willyoucomeuptomymother?"

"Butcertainly."

Deirdre led the way across the hall and up the stairs. She said inconsequently: "One does get so very
tiredofforeigners."

Since her mind was clearly running on her domestic help and not on the visitor, Poirot did not take
offence.HereflectedthatDeirdreHendersonseemedarathersimpleyoungwoman-simpletothepoint
ofgaucheness.

The room upstairs was crowded with knick-knacks. It was the room of a woman who had travelled a
gooddealandwhohadbeendeterminedwherevershewenttohaveasouveniroftheplace.Mostofthe
souvenirswereclearlymadeforthedelightandexploitationoftourists.Thereweretoomanysofasand
tablesandchairsintheroom,toolittleairandtoomanydraperies-andinthemidstofitallwasMrs
Wetherby.

MrsWetherbyseemedasmallwoman-apatheticsmallwomaninalargeroom.Thatwastheeffect.
Butshewasnotreallyquitesosmallasshehaddecidedtoappear.The"poorlittleme"typecanachieve
itsresultquitewell,evenifreallyofmediumheight.

Shewasrecliningverycomfortablyonasofaandnearherwerebooksandsomeknittingandaglassof
orangejuiceandaboxofchocolates.Shesaidbrightly:

"You must forgive me not getting up, but the doctor does so insist on my resting every day, and
everyonescoldsmeifIdon'tdowhatI'mtold."

Poirottookherextendedhandandbowedoveritwiththepropermurmurofhomage.

Behindhim,uncompromising,Deirdresaid:"HewantstoknowaboutMrsMcGinty."

The delicate hand that had lain passively in his tightened and he was reminded for a moment of the
talonofabird.NotreallyapieceofdelicateDresdenchina-ascratchypredatoryclaw...

Laughingslightly,MrsWetherbysaid:

"Howridiculousyouare,Deirdredarling.WhoisMrsMcGinty?"

"Oh,Mummy-youdorememberreally.Sheworkedforus.Youknow,theonewhowasmurdered."

MrsWetherbyclosedhereyes,andshivered.

"Dont,darling.Itwasallsohorrid.Ifeltnervousforweeksafterwards.Pooroldwoman,butsostupid
tokeepmoneyunderthefloor.Sheoughttohaveputitinthebank.OfcourseIrememberallthat-I'd
justforgottenhername."

Deirdresaidstolidly:

"Hewantstoknowabouther."

"Nowdositdown,M.Poirot.I'mquitedevouredbycuriosity.MrsRendelljustrangupandshesaidwe
had a very famous criminologist down here, and she described you. And then, when that idiot Frieda
describedavisitor,Ifeltsureitmustbeyou,andIsentdownwordforyoutocomeup.Nowtellme,
what'sallthis?"

"Itisasyourdaughtersays,IwanttoknowaboutMrsMcGinty.Sheworkedhere.Shecametoyou,I
understand,onWednesdays.AnditwasonaWednesdayshedied.Soshehadbeenherethatday,had
shenot?"

"Isupposeso.Yes,Isupposeso.Icantreallytellnow.It'ssolongago."

"Yes.Severalmonths.Andshedidnotsayanythingthatday-anythingspecial?"

"That class of person always talks a lot," said Mrs Wetherby with distaste. "One doesn't really listen.
Andanywayshecouldn'ttellshewasgoingtoberobbedandkilledthatnight,couldshe?"

"Thereiscauseandeffect,"saidPoirot.

MrsWetherbywrinkledherforehead.

"Idon'tseewhatyoumean."

"PerhapsIdonotseemyself-notyet.Oneworksthroughdarknesstowardslight...Doyoutakeinthe
Sundaypapers,MrsWetherby?"

Herblueeyesopenedverywide.

"Ohyes.Ofcourse.WehavetheObserverandtheSundayTimes.Why?"

"Iwondered.MrsMcGintytooktheSundayCompanionandtheNewsoftheWorld."

Hepausedbutnobodysaidanything.MrsWetherbysighedandhalfclosedhereyes.Shesaid:

"Itwasallveryupsetting.Thathorriblelodgerofher.Idon'tthinkreallyhecanhavebeenquiterightin
thehead.Apparentlyhewasquiteaneducatedman,too.Thatmakesitworse,doesn'tit?"

"Doesit?"

"Ohyes-Idothinkso.Suchabrutalcrime.Ameatchopper.Ugh!"

"Thepoliceneverfoundtheweapon,"saidPoirot.

"Iexpecthethrewitinapondorsomething."

"Theydraggedtheponds,"saidDeirdre."Isawthem."

"Darling,"hermothersighed,"don'tbemorbid.YouknowhowIhatethinkingofthingslikethat.My
head."

FiercelythegirlturnedonPoirot.

"Youmustn'tgoonaboutit,"shesaid."It'sbadforher.She'sfrightfullysensitive.Shecan'tevenread
detectivestories."

"Myapologies,"saidPoirot.Herosetohisfeet."Ihaveonlyoneexcuse.Amanistobehangedinthree
weeks'time.Ifhedidnotdoit-"

MrsWetherbyraisedherselfonherelbow.Hervoicewasshrill.

"Butofcoursehedidit,"shecried."Ofcoursehedid."

Poirotshookhishead.

"Iamnotsosure."

Helefttheroomquickly.Ashewentdownthestairs,thegirlcameafterhim.Shecaughtupwithhimin
thehall.

"Whatdoyoumean?"sheasked.

"WhatIsaid,mademoiselle."

"Yes,but..."Shestopped.

Poirotsaidnothing.

DeirdreHendersonsaidslowly:

"You'veupsetmymother.Shehatesthingslikethat-robberiesandmurdersand-andviolence."

"Itmust,then,havebeenagreatshocktoherwhenawomanwhohadactuallyworkedherewaskilled."

"Ohyes-ohyes,itwas."

"Shewasprostrated-yes?"

"Shewouldn'thearanythingaboutit...We-I-wetryto-tospareherthings.Allthebeastliness."

"Whataboutthewar?"

"Luckilyweneverhadanybombsnearhere."

"Whatwasyourpartinthewar,mademoiselle?"

"Oh, I did V.A.D. work in Kilchester. And some driving for the W.V.S. I couldn't have left home, of
course.Motherneededme.Asitwas,shemindedmybeingoutsomuch.Itwasallverydifficult.And
thenservants-naturallymother'sneverdoneanyhousework-she'snotstrongenough.Anditwasso
difficult to get anyone at all. That's why Mrs McGinty was such a blessing. That's when she began
comingtous.Shewasasplendidworker.Butofcoursenothing-anywhere-islikeitusedtobe."

"Anddoyoumindthatsomuch,mademoiselle?"

"I?Ohno."Sheseemedsurprised."Butit'sdifferentformother.She-shelivesinthepastalot."

"Some people do," said Poirot. His visual memory conjured up the room he had been in a short time
before. There had been a bureau drawer half pulled out. A drawer full of odds and ends - silk pin-
cushion,abrokenfan,asilvercoffeepot-someoldmagazines.Thedrawerhadbeentoofulltoshut.

He said softly: "And they keep things - memories of old days - the dance programme, the fan, the
photographs of bygone friends, even the menu cards and the theatre programmes because, looking at
thesethings,oldmemoriesrevive."

"Isupposethat'sit,"saidDeirdre."Ican'tunderstanditmyself.Ineverkeepanything."

"Youlookforwards,notback?"

Deirdresaidslowly:

"Idon'tknowthatIlookanywhere...Imean,today'susuallyenough,isn'tit?"

The front door opened and a tall, spare, elderly man came into the hall. He stopped dead as he saw
Poirot.

HeglancedatDeirdreandhiseyebrowsroseininterrogation.

"Thisismystepfather,"saidDeirdre."I-Idon'tknowyourname?"

"IamHerculePoirot,"saidPoirotwithhisusualembarrassedairofannouncingaroyaltitle.

MrWetherbyseemedunimpressed.

Hesaid"Ah,"andturnedtohanguphiscoat.

Deirdresaid:

"HecametoaskaboutMrsMcGinty."

MrWetherbyremainedstillforasecond,thenhefinishedhisadjustmentofthecoatonthepeg.

"That seems to me rather remarkable," he said. "The woman met her death some months ago and,
although she worked here, we have no information concerning her or her family. If we had done we

shouldalreadyhavegivenittothepolice."

Therewasfinalityinhistone.Heglancedathiswatch.

"Lunch,Ipresume,willbereadyinaquarterofanhour."

"I'mafraiditmayberatherlatetoday."

MrWetherby'seyebrowsroseagain.

"Indeed?Why,mayIask?"

"Friedahasbeenratherbusy."

"MydearDeirdre,Ihatetoremindyou,butthetaskofrunningthehouseholddevolvesonyou.Ishould
appreciatealittlemorepunctuality."

Poirotopenedthefrontdoorandlethimselfout.Heglancedoverhisshoulder.

TherewascolddislikeinthegazethatMrWetherbygavehisstepdaughter.Therewassomethingvery
likehateintheeyesthatlookedbackathim.

Chapter10

Poirotlefthisthirdcalluntilafterluncheon.Luncheonwasunder-stewedoxtail,waterypotatoes,and
whatMaureenhopedoptimisticallymightturnouttobepancakes.Theywereverypeculiar.

Poirot walked slowly up the hill. Presently, on his right, he would come to Laburnums, two cottages
knocked into one and remodelled to modern taste. Here lived Mrs Upward and that promising young
playwright,RobinUpward.

Poirotpausedamomentatthegatetopassahandoverhismoustaches.Ashedidsoacarcametwisting
slowlydownthehillandanapplecoredirectedwithforcestruckhimonthecheek.

Startled,Poirotletoutayelpofprotest.Thecarhaltedandaheadcamethroughthewindow.

"I'msosorry.DidIhityou?"

Poirot paused in the act of replying. He looked at the rather noble face, the massive brow, the untidy
billowsofgreyhairandachordofmemorystirred.Theapplecore,too,assistedhismemory.

"Butsurely,"heexclaimed,"itisMrsOliver."

Itwasindeed,thatcelebrateddetective-storywriter.

Exclaiming"Why,it'sM.Poirot,"theauthoressattemptedtoextractherselffromthecar.Itwasasmall
carandMrsOliverwasalargewoman.Poirothastenedtoassist.

Murmuringinanexplanatoryvoice,"Stiffafterthelongdrive,"MrsOliversuddenlyarrivedoutonthe
roadratherinthemannerofavolcaniceruption.

Largequantitiesofapplescame,too,androlledmerrilydownthehill.

"Bag'sburst,"explainedMrsOliver.

Shebrushedafewstraypiecesofhalf-consumedapple

fromthejuttingshelfofherbustandthenshookherselfratherlikealargeNewfoundlanddog.Alast
apple,concealedintherecessesofherperson,joineditsbrothersandsisters.

"Pitythebagburst,"saidMrsOliver."TheywereCox's.StillIsupposetherewillbelotsofapplesdown
hereinthecountry.Oraren'tthere?Perhapstheyallgetsentaway.Thingsaresooddnowadays,Ifind.
Well,howareyou,M.Poirot?Youdon'tlivehere,doyou?No,I'msureyoudon't.ThenIsupposeit's
murder?Notmyhostess,Ihope?"

"Whoisyourhostess?"

"Inthere,"saidMrsOliver,noddingherhead."That'stosayifthat'sahousecalledLaburnums,half-
waydownthehillontheleftafteryoupassthechurch.Yes,thatmustbeit.What'sshelike?"

"Youdonotknowher?"

"No, I've come down professionally, so to speak. A book of mine is being dramatised - by Robin
Upward.We'resupposedtosortofgettogetheroverit."

"Myfelicitations,madame."

"It'snotlikethatatall,"saidMrsOliver."Sofarit'spureagony.WhyIeverletmyselfinforitIdon't
know.Mybooksbringmeinquiteenoughmoney-thatistosaytheblood-suckerstakemostofit,and
ifImademore,they'dtakemore,soIdon'toverstrainmyself.Butyou'venoideaoftheagonyofhaving
yourcharacterstakenandmadetosaythingsthattheyneverwouldhavesaid,anddothingsthatthey
never would have done. And if you protest, all they say is that it's 'good theatre.' That's all Robin
Upward thinks of. Everyone says he's very clever. If he's so clever I don't see why he doesn't write a
play of his own and leave my poor unfortunate Finn alone. He's not even a Finn any longer. He's
becomeamemberoftheNorwegianResistancemovement."Sheranherhandsthroughherhair."What
haveIdonewithmyhat?"

Poirotlookedintothecar.

"Ithinkmadame,thatyoumusthavebeensittingonit."

"Itdoeslooklikeit,"agreedMrsOliver,surveyingthewreckage."Ohwell,"shecontinuedcheerfully,
"I never mind it much. But I thought I might have to go to church on Sunday, and although the
Archbishophas said oneneedn't, I stillthink that the moreold-fashioned clergy expectone to wear a
hat.Buttellmeaboutyourmurderorwhateveritis.Doyourememberourmurder?"

"Verywellindeed."

"Rather fun, wasn't it? Not the actual murder - I didn't like that at all. But afterwards. Who is it this
time?"

"Not so picturesque a person as Mr Shaitana. An elderly charwoman who was robbed and murdered
fivemonthsago.Youmayhavereadaboutit.MrsMcGinty.Ayoungmanwasconvictedandsentenced
todeath-"

"And he didn't do it, but you know who did, and you're going to prove it," said Mrs Oliver rapidly.
"Splendid."

"Yougotoofast,"saidPoirotwithasigh."Idonotyetknowwhodidit-andfromthereitwillbea
longwaytoproveit."

"Menaresoslow,"saidMrsOliverdisparagingly."I'llsoontellyouwhodidit.Someonedownhere,I
suppose?Givemeadayortwotolookround,andI'llspotthemurderer.Awoman'sintuition-that's
whatyouneed.IwasquiterightovertheShaitanacase,wasn'tI?"

PoirotgallantlyforeboretoremindMrsOliverofherrapidchangesofsuspiciononthatoccasion.

"Youmen,"saidMrsOliverindulgently."NowifawomanweretheheadofScotlandYard-"

Sheleftthiswellwornthemehangingintheairasavoicehailedthemfromthedoorofthecottage.

"Hullo,"saidthevoice,anagreeablelighttenor."IsthatMrsOliver?"

"HereIam,"calledMrsOliver.ToPoirotshemurmured:"Don'tworry.I'llbeverydiscreet."

"No,no,madame.Idonotwantyoutobediscreet.Onthecontrary."

RobinUpwardcamedownthepathandthroughthegate.

He was bareheaded and wore very old grey flannel trousers and a disreputable sports coat. But for a
tendencytoembonpoint,hewouldhavebeengoodlooking.

"Ariadne,myprecious!"heexclaimedandembracedherwarmly.

Hestoodaway,hishandsonhershoulders.

"Mydear,I'vehadthemostmarvelousideaforthesecondact."

"Haveyou?"saidMm.Oliverwithoutenthusiasm."ThisisM.HerculePoirot."

"Splendid,"saidRobin."Haveyougotanyluggage?"

"Yes,it'sintheback."

Robinhauledoutacoupleofsuitcases.

"Such a bore," he said. "We've no proper servants. Only old Janet. And we have to spare her all the
time.That'ssuchanuisancedon'tyouthink?Howheavyyourcasesare.Haveyougotbombsinthem?"

Hestaggeredupthepath,callingoutoverhisshoulder:

"Comeinandhaveadrink."

"Hemeansyou,"saidMrsOliver,removingherhand-bag,abook,andapairofoldshoesfromthefront
seat."Didyouactuallysayjustnowthatyouwantedmetobeindiscreet?"

"Themoreindiscreetthebetter."

"Ishouldn'ttackleitthatwaymyself,"saidMrsOliver,"butit'syourmurder.I'llhelpallIcan."

Robinreappearedatthefrontdoor.

"Comein,comein,"hecalled."We'llseeaboutthecarlater.Madreisdyingtomeetyou."

MrsOliversweptupthepathandHerculePoirotfollowedher.

TheinteriorofLaburnumswascharming.Poirotguessedthataverylargesumofmoneyhadbeenspent
onit,buttheresultwasanexpensiveandcharmingsimplicity.Eachsmallpieceofcottageoakwasa
genuinepiece.

In a wheeled chair by the fireplace of the living-room Laura Upward smiled a welcome. She was a
vigorous-lookingwomanofsixty-odd,withiron-greyhairandadeterminedchin.

"I'mdelightedtomeetyou,MrsOliver,"shesaid."Iexpectyouhatepeopletalkingtoyouaboutyour
books, but they've been an enormous solace to me for years - and especially since I've been such a
cripple."

"That's very nice of you," said Mrs Oliver, looking uncomfortable and twisting her hands in a
schoolgirlishway.

"Oh,thisisM.Poirot,aoldfriendofmine.Wemetbychancejustoutsidehere.ActuallyIhithimwith
anapplecore.LikeWilliamTell-onlytheotherwayabout."

"Howd'youdo,M.Poirot.Robin."

"Yes,Madre?"

"Getsomedrinks.Wherearethecigarettes?"

"Onthattable."

MrsUpwardasked:"Areyouawriter,too,M.Poirot?"

"Oh,no,"saidMrsOliver."He'sadetective.Youknow.TheSherlockHolmeskind-deerstalkersand
violinsandallthat.Andhe'scomeheretosolveamurder."

Therewasafainttinkleofbrokenglass.MrsUpwardsaidsharply:"Robin,dobecareful."ToPoirotshe
said:"That'sveryinteresting,M.Poirot."

"So Maureen Summerhayes was right," exclaimed Robin. "She told me some long rigmarole about
havingadetectiveonthepremises.Sheseemedtothinkitfrightfullyfunny.Butit'sreallyquiteserious,
isn'tit?"

"Ofcourseit'sserious,"saidMrsOliver."You'vegotacriminalinyourmidst."

"Yes, but look here, who's been murdered? Or is it someone that's been dug up and it's all frightfully
hushhush?"

"Itisnothushhush,"saidPoirot."Themurder,youknowaboutitalready."

"MrsMc-something-acharwoman-lastautumn,"saidMrsOliver.

"Oh!"RobinUpwardsoundeddisappointed."Butthat'sallover."

"It'snotoveratall,"saidMrsOliver."Theyarrestedthewrongman,andhe'llbehangedifM.Poirot
doesn'tfindtherealmurdererintime.It'sallfrightfullyexciting."

Robinapportionedthedrinks.

"WhiteLadyforyou,Madre."

"Thankyou,mydearboy."

Poirotfrownedslightly.RobinhandeddrinkstoMrsOliverandtohim.

"Well,"saidRobin,"here'stocrime."

Hedrank.

"Sheusedtoworkhere,"hesaid.

"MrsMcGinty?"askedMrsOliver.

"Yes.Didn'tshe,Madre?"

"Whenyousayworkhere,shecameonedayaweek."

"Andoddafternoonssometimes."

"Whatwasshelike?"askedMrsOliver.

"Terribly respectable," said Robin. "And maddeningly tidy. She had a ghastly way of tidying up
everythingandputtingthingsintodrawerssothatyousimplycouldn'tguesswheretheywere."

MrsUpwardsaidwithacertaingrimhumour:

"Ifsomebodydidn'ttidythingsawayatleastonedayaweek,yousoonwouldn'tbeabletomoveinthis
smallhouse."

"Iknow,Madre,Iknow.ButunlessthingsareleftwhereIputthem,Isimplycan'tworkatall.Mynotes
getalldisarranged."

"It'sannoyingtobeashelplessasIam,"saidMrsUpward."Wehaveafaithfuloldmaid,butit'sallshe
canmanagejusttodoalittlesimplecooking."

"Whatisit?"askedMrsOliver."Arthritis?"

"Someformofit.Ishallhavetohaveapermanentnurse-companionsoon,I'mafraid.Suchabore.Ilike
beingindependent."

"Now,darling,"saidRobin."Don'tworkyourselfup."

Hepattedherarm.

Shesmiledathimwithsuddentenderness.

"Robin'sasgoodasadaughtertome,"shesaid."Hedoeseverything-andthinksofeverything.Noone
couldbemoreconsiderate."

Theysmiledateachother.

HerculePoirotrose.

"Alas,"hesaid."Imustgo.Ihaveanothercalltomakeandthenatraintocatch.Madame,Ithankyou
foryourhospitality.MrUpward,Iwishallsuccesstotheplay."

"Andallsuccesstoyouwithyourmurder,"saidMrsOliver.

"Isthisreallyserious,M.Poirot?"askedRobinUpward."Orisitaterrifichoax?"

"Ofcourseitisn'tahoax,"saidMrsOliver."It'sdeadlyserious.Hewon'ttellmewhothemurdereris,
butheknows,don'tyou?"

"No,no,madame,"Poirot'sprotestwasjustsufficientlyunconvincing."Itoldyouthatasyet,no,Ido
notknow."

"That'swhatyousaid,butIthinkyoudoknowreally.Butyou'resofrightfullysecretive,aren'tyou?"

MrsUpwardsaidsharply:

"Isthisreallytrue?It'snotajoke?"

"Itisnotajoke,madame,"saidPoirot.

Hebowedanddeparted.

AshewentdownthepathheheardRobinUpward'scleartenorvoice:

"ButAriadne,darling,"hesaid,"it'sallverywell,butwiththatmoustacheandeverything,howcanone
takehimseriously?Doyoureallymeanhe'sgood?"

Poirotsmiledtohimself.Goodindeed!

Abouttocrossthenarrowlane,hejumpedbackjustintime.

The Summerhayes' station wagon, lurching and bumping, came racing past him. Summerhayes was
driving.

"Sorry,"hecalled."Gottocatchtrain."Andfaintlyfromthedistance:"CoventGarden..."

Poirotalsointendedtotakeatrain-thelocaltraintoKilchester,wherehehadarrangedaconference
withSuperintendentSpence.

Hehadtime,beforecatchingit,forjustonelastcall.

Hewenttothetopofthehillandthroughgatesandupawell-keptdrivetoamodernhouseoffrosted
concretewithasquareroofandagooddealofwindow.ThiswasthehomeofMrandMrsCarpenter.
Guy Carpenter was a partner in the big Carpenter Engineering Works - a very rich man who had
recentlytakentopolitics.Heandhiswifehadonlybeenmarriedashorttime.

The Carpenters' front door was not opened by foreign help, or an aged faithful. An imperturbable
manservantopenedthedoorandwasloathtoadmitHerculePoirot.InhisviewHerculePoirotwasthe
kindofcallerwhoisleftoutside.HeclearlysuspectedthatHerculePoirothadcometosellsomething.

"MrandMrsCarpenterarenotathome."

"Perhaps,then,Imightwait?"

"Icouldn'tsaywhentheywillbein."

Heclosedthedoor.

Poirotdidnotgodownthedrive.Insteadhewalkedroundthecornerofthehouseandalmostcollided
withatallyoungwomaninaminkcoat.

"Hullo,"shesaid."Whatthehelldoyouwant?"

Poirotraisedhishatwithgallantry.

"I was hoping," he said," that I could see Mr or Mrs Carpenter. Have I the pleasure of seeing Mrs
Carpenter?"

"I'mMrsCarpenter."

Shespokeungraciously,buttherewasafaintsuggestionofappeasementbehindhermanner.

"MynameisHerculePoirot."

Nothingregistered.Notonlywasthegreat,theuniquenameunknowntoher,buthethoughtthatshedid
notevenidentifyhimasMaureenSummerhayes'latestguest.Here,then,thelocalgrapevinedidnot
operate.Asmallbutsignificantfact,perhaps.

"Yes?"

"I demand to see either Mr or Mrs Carpenter, but you, madame, will be the best for my purpose. For
whatIhavetoaskisofdomesticmatters."

"We'vegotaHoover,"saidMrsCarpentersuspiciously.

Poirotlaughed.

"No,no,youmisunderstand.ItisonlyafewquestionsthatIaskaboutadomesticmatter."

"Oh,youmeanoneofthesedomesticquestionnaires.Idothinkit'sabsolutelyidiotic-"Shebrokeoff.
"Perhapsyou'dbettercomeinside."

Poirot smiled faintly. She had just stopped herself from uttering a derogatory comment. With her
husband'spoliticalactivities,cautionincriticisingGovernmentactivitieswasindicated.

Sheledthewaythroughthehallandintoagood-sizedroomgivingontoacarefullytendedgarden.It
was a very new-looking room, a large brocaded suite of sofa and two wing-chairs, three or four

reproductions of Chippendale chairs, a bureau, a writing desk. No expense had been spared, the best
firms had been employed, and there was absolutely no sign of individual taste. The bride, Poirot
thought,hadbeenwhat?Indifferent?Careful?

Helookedatherappraisinglyassheturned.Anexpensiveandgood-lookingyoungwoman.Platinum
blondehair,carefullyappliedmake-up,butsomethingmore-widecorn-flowerblueeyes-eyeswitha
widefrozenstareinthem-beautifuldrownedeyes.

Shesaid-graciouslynow,butconcealingboredom:

"Dositdown."

Hesat.Hesaid:

"You are most amiable, madame. These questions now, that I wish to ask you. They relate to a Mrs
McGintywhodied-waskilledthatistosay-lastNovember."

"MrsMcGinty?Idon'tknowwhatyoumean?"

Shewasglaringathim.Hereyeshardandsuspicions.

"YourememberMrsMcGinty?"

"No,Idon't.Idon'tknowanythingabouther."

"Yourememberhermurder?Orismurdersocommonherethatyoudonotevennoticeit?"

"Oh,themurder?Yes,ofcourse.I'dforgottenwhattheoldwoman'snamewas."

"Althoughsheworkedforyouinthishouse?"

"Shedidn't.Iwasn'tlivingherethen.MrCarpenterandIwereonlymarriedthreemonthsago."

"Butshedidworkforyou.OnFridaymornings,Ithinkitwas.YouwerethenMrsSelkirkandyoulived
inRoseCottage."

Shesaidsulkily:

"IfyouknowtheanswerstoeverythingIdon'tseewhyyouneedtoaskquestions.Anyway,what'sitall
about?"

"Iammakinganinvestigationintothecircumstanceofthemurder."

"Why?Whatonearthfor?Anyway,whycometome?"

"Youmightknowsomething-thatwouldhelpme."

"Idon'tknowanythingatall.WhyshouldI?Shewasonlyastupidoldcharwoman.Shekepthermoney
under the floor and somebody robbed and murdered her for it. It was quite disgusting - beastly, the
wholething.LikethingsyoureadintheSundaypapers."

Poirottookthatupquickly.

"LiketheSundaypapers,yes.LiketheSundayCompanion.Youread,perhaps,theSundayCompanion?

Shejumpedup,andmadeherway,blunderingly,towardstheopenedfrenchwindows.Souncertainly
did she go that she actually collided with the window frame. Poirot was reminded of a beautiful big
moth,flutteringblindlyagainstalampshade.

Shecalled:"Guy-Guy!"

Aman'svoicealittlewayawayanswered:

"Eve?"

"Comeherequickly."

Atallmanofaboutthirty-fivecameintosight.Hequickenedhispaceandcameacrosstheterracetothe
window.EveCarpentersaidvehemently:

"There's a man here - a foreigner. He's asking me all sorts of questions about that horrid murder last
year.Someoldcharwoman-youremember?Ihatethingslikethat.YouknowIdo."

GuyCarpenterfrownedandcameintothedrawing-roomthroughthewindow.Hehadalongfacelikea
horse,hewaspaleandlookedrathersupercilious.Hismannerwaspompous.

HerculePoirotfoundhimunattractive.

"MayIaskwhatallthisisabout?"heasked."Haveyoubeenannoyingmywife?"

HerculePoirotspreadouthishands.

"The last thing I should wish is to annoy so charming a lady. I hoped only that, the deceased woman
havingworkedforher,shemightbeabletoaidmeintheinvestigationsIammaking."

"But-whataretheseinvestigations?"

"Yes,askhimthat,"urgedhaswife.

"AfreshinquiryisbeingmadeintothecircumstancesofMrsMcGinty'sdeath."

"Nonsense-thecaseisover."

"No,no,thereyouareinerror.Itisnotover."

"Afreshinquiry,yousay?"GuyCarpenterfrowned.Hesaidsuspiciously:"Bythepolice?Nonsense-
you'renothingtodowiththepolice."

"Thatiscorrect.Iamworkingindependentlyofthepolice."

"It'sthePress,"EveCarpenterbrokein."SomehorridSundaynewspaper.Hesaidso."

AgleamofcautioncameintoGuyCarpenter'seye.Inhispositionhewasnotanxioustoantagonisethe
Press.Hesaid,moreamicably:

"Mywifeisverysensitive.Murdersandthingslikethatupsether.I'msureitcan'tbenecessaryforyou
tobotherher.Shehardlyknewthiswoman."

Evesaidvehemently:

"Shewasonlyastupidoldcharwoman.Itoldhimso."

Sheadded:

"Andshewasafrightfulliar,too."

"Ah,thatisinteresting."Poirotturnedabeamingfacefromonetotheotherofthem."Soshetoldlies.
Thatmaygiveusaveryvaluablelead."

"Idon'tseehow,"saidEvesulkily.

"Theestablishmentofmotive,"saidPoirot."ThatisthelineIamfollowingup."

"Shewasrobbedofhersavings,"saidCarpentersharply."Thatwasthemotiveofthecrime."

"Ah,"saidPoirotsoftly."Butwasit?"

Heroselikeanactorwhohadjustspokenatellingline.

"I regret if I have caused madame any pain," he said politely. "These affairs are always rather
unpleasant."

"The whole business was distressing," said Carpenter quickly. "Naturally my wife didn't like being

remindedofit.I'msorrywecan'thelpyouwithanyinformation."

"Oh,butyouhave."

"Ibegyourpardon?"

Poirotsaidsoftly:

"MrsMcGintytoldlies.Avaluablefact.Whatlies,exactly,didshetell,madame?"

HewaitedpolitelyforEveCarpentertospeak.Shesaidatlast:

"Oh,nothingparticular.Imean-Ican'tremember."

Consciousperhaps,thatbothmenwerelookingatherexpectantly,shesaid:

"Stupidthings-aboutpeople.Thingsthatcouldn'tbetrue."

Stilltherewasasilence,thenPoirotsaid:

"Isee-shehadadangeroustongue."

EveCarpentermadeaquickmovement.

"Ohno-Ididn'tmeanasmuchasthat.Shewasjustagossip,thatwasall."

"Justagossip,"saidPoirotsoftly.

Hemadeagestureoffarewell.

GuyCarpenteraccompaniedhimoutintothehall.

"Thispaperofyours-thisSundaypaper-whichisit?"

"ThepaperImentionedtomadame,"repliedPoirotcarefully,"wastheSundayCompanion."

Hepaused.GuyCarpenterrepeatedthoughtfully:

"TheSundayCompanion.Idon'tveryoftenseethat,I'mafraid."

"Ithasinterestingarticlessometimes.Andinterestingillustrations..."

Beforethepausecouldbetoolong,hebowed,andsaidquickly:

"Aurevoir,MrCarpenter.IamsorryifIhave-disturbedyou."

Outsidethegate,helookedbackatthehouse.

"Iwonder,"hesaid."Yes,Iwonder..."

Chapter11

SuperintendentSpencesatoppositeHerculePoirotandsighed.

"I'mnotsayingyouhaven'tgotanything,M.Poirot,"hesaidslowly."Personally,Ithinkyouhave.But
it'sthin.It'sterriblythin!"

Poirotnodded.

"Byitselfitwillnotdo.Theremustbemore."

"MysergeantorIoughttohavespottedthatnewspaper."

"No,no,youcannotblameyourself.Thecrimewassoobvious.Robberywithviolence.Theroomall
pulledabout,themoneymissing.Whyshouldtherebesignificancetoyouinatornnewspaperamongst
theotherconfusion."

Spencerepeatedobstinately:

"Ishouldhavegotthat.Andthebottleofink-"

"Iheardofthatbythemerestchance."

"Yetitmeantsomethingtoyou-why?"

"Onlybecauseofthatchancephraseaboutwritingaletter.YouandI,Spence,wewritesomanyletters-
tousitissuchamatterofcourse."

SuperintendentSpencesighed.Thenhelaidoutonthetablefourphotographs.

"Thesearethephotosyouaskedmetoget-theoriginalphotosthattheSundayCompanionused.At
anyratethey'realittleclearerthanthereproductions.Butuponmyword,they'renotmuchtogoupon.
Old,faded-andwithwomenthehair-domakesadifference.There'snothingdefiniteinanyofthemto
go upon like ears or a profile. That cloche hat and that arty hair and the roses! Doesn't give you a
chance."

"YouagreewithmethatwecandiscardVeraBlake?"

"Ishouldthinkso.IfVeraBlakewasinBroadhinny,everyonewouldknowit-tellingthesadstoryof
herlifeseemstohavebeenherspecialty."

"Whatcanyoutellmeabouttheothers?"

"I'vegotwhatIcouldforyouinthetime.EvaKaneleftthecountryafterCraigwassentenced.AndI
cantellyouthenameshetook.ItwasHope.Symbolic,perhaps?"

Poirotmurmured:

"Yes,yes-theromanticapproach.'BeautifulEvelynHopeisdead.'Alinefromoneofyourpoets.Idare
sayshethoughtofthat.WashernameEvelyn,bytheway?"

"Yes,Ibelieveitwas.ButEvawaswhatshewasknownasalways.Andbytheway,M.Poirot,nowthat
we'reonthesubject,thepoliceopinionofEvaKanedoesn'tquitesquarewiththisarticlehere.Veryfar
fromit."

Poirotsmiled.

"What the police think - it is not evidence. But it is usually a very sound guide. What did the police
thinkofEvaKane?"

"Thatshewasbynomeanstheinnocentvictimthatthepublicthoughther.Iwasquiteayoungchapat
thetimeandrememberhearingitdiscussedbymyoldChiefandInspectorTraillwhowasinchargeof
thecase.Traillbelieved(noevidence,mindyou)thattheprettylittleideaofputtingMrsCraigoutof
thewaywasallEvaKane'sidea-andthatshenotonlythoughtofit,butshedidit.Craigcamehome
one day and found his little friend had taken a short cut. She thought it would all pass off as natural
death,Idaresay.ButCraigknewbetter.Hegotthewindupanddisposedofthebodyinthecellarand
elaborated the plan of having Mrs Craig die abroad. Then, when the whole thing came out, he was
frantic in his asseverations that he'd done it alone, that Eva Kane had known nothing about it. Well,"
SuperintendentSpenceshruggedhisshoulders,"nobodycouldproveanythingelse.Thestuffwasinthe
house.Eitherofthemcouldhaveusedit.PrettyEvaKanewasallinnocenceandhorror.Verywellshe
didit,too:acleverlittleactress.InspectorTraillhadhisdoubts-buttherewasnothingtogoupon.I'm
givingyouthatforwhatit'sworth,M.Poirot.It'snotevidence."

"But it suggests the possibility that one, at least, of these 'tragic women' was something more than a
tragicwoman-thatshewasamurderessandthat,iftheincentivewasstrongenough,shemightmurder
again...Andnowthenextone,JaniceCourtland,whatcanyoutellmeabouther?"

"I'velookedupthefiles.Anastybitofgoods.IfwehangedEdithThompsonwecertainlyoughttohave
hanged Janice Courtland. An unpleasant pair, she and her husband, nothing to choose between them,
andsheworkedonthatyoungmanuntilshehadhimallupinarms.Butallthetime,markyou,there
wasarichmaninthebackground,anditwastomarryhimshewantedherhusbandoutoftheway."

"Didshemarryhim?"

Spenceshookhishead.

"Noidea."

"Shewentabroad-andthen?"

Spenceshookhishead.

"Shewasafreewoman.She'dnotbeenchargedwithanything.Whethershemarried,orwhathappened
toher,wedon'tknow."

"Onemightmeetheratacocktailpartyanyday,"saidPoirot,thinkingofDrRendell'sremark.

"Exactly."

Poirotshiftedhisgazetothelastphotograph.

"Andthechild?LilyGamboll?"

"Too young to be charged with murder. She was sent to an approved school. Good record there. Was
taughtshorthandandtypingandwasfoundajobunderprobation.Didwell.LastheardofinIreland.I
thinkwecouldwashherout,youknow,M.Poirot,sameasVeraBlake.Afterall,she'dmadegood,and
peopledon'tholditagainstakidoftwelvefordoingsomethinginafitoftemper.Whataboutwashing
herout?"

"Imight,"saidPoirot,"ifitwerenotforthechopper.ItisundeniablethatLilyGambollusedachopper
onheraunt,andtheunknownkillerofMrsMcGintyusedsomethingthatwassaidtobelikeachopper."

"Perhapsyou'reright.Now,M.Poirot,let'shaveyoursideofthings.Nobody'striedtodoyouin,I'm
gladtosee."

"N-no,"saidPoirot,withamomentaryhesitation.

"Idon'tmindtellingyouI'vehadthewindupaboutyouonceortwicesincethateveninginLondon.
NowwhatarethepossibilitiesamongsttheresidentsofBroadhinny?"

Poirotopenedhislittlenotebook.

"EvaKane,ifsheisstillalive,wouldbenowapproachingsixty.Herdaughter,ofwhoseadultlifeour
SundayCompanionpaintssuchatouchingpicture,wouldbenowinthethirties.LilyGambollwould
alsobeaboutthatage.JaniceCourtlandwouldnowbenotfarshortoffifty."

Spencenoddedagreement.

"SowecometotheresidentsofBroadhinny,withespecialreferencetothoseforwhomMrsMcGinty
worked."

"Thatlastisafairassumption,Ithink."

"Yes, it is complicated by the fact that Mrs McGinty did occasional odd work here and there, but we
willassumeforthetimebeingthatshesawwhatevershedidsee,presumablyaphotograph,atoneof
herregular'houses.'"

"Agreed."

"Themasfarasagegoes,thatgivesusaspossibles-firsttheWetherbyswhereMrsMcGintyworked
onthedayofherdeath.MrsWetherbyistherightageforEvaKaneandshehasadaughteroftheright
agetobeEvaKane'sdaughter-adaughtersaidtobebypreviousmarriage."

"Andasregardsthephotograph?"

"Moncher,nopositiveidentificationfromthatispossible.Toomuchtimehaspassed,toomuchwater,
asyousay,hasflowedfromthewaterworks.Onecanbutsaythis:MrsWetherbyhasbeen,decidedly,a
pretty woman. She has all the mannerisms of one. She seems much too fragile and helpless to do
murder,butthenthatwas,Iunderstand,thepopularbeliefaboutEvaKane.Howmuchactualphysical
strengthwouldhavebeenneededtokillMrsMcGintyisdifficulttosaywithoutknowingexactlywhat
weaponwasused,itshandle,theeasewithwhichitcouldbeswung,thesharpnessofitscuttingedge,
etcetera."

"Yes,yes.Whywenevermanagedtofindthat-butgoon."

"The only other remarks I have to make about the Wetherby household are that Mr Wetherby could

makehimself,andIfancydoesmakehimself,veryunpleasantifhelikes.Thedaughterisfanatically
devotedtohermother.Shehatesherstepfather.Idonotremarkonthesefacts.Ipresentthem,only,for
consideration. Daughter might kill to prevent mother's past coming to stepfather's ears. Mother might
kill for same reason. Father might kill to prevent 'scandal' coming out. More murders have been
committedforrespectabilitythanonewouldbelievepossible!TheWetherbysare'nicepeople.'"

Spencenodded.

"If-Isayif-thereisanythinginthisSundayCompanionbusiness,thentheWetherbysareclearlythe
bestbet,"hesaid.

"Exactly. The only other person in Broadhinny who would fit in age with Eva Kane m Mrs Upward.
There are two arguments against Mrs Upward, as Eva Kane, having killed Mrs McGinty. First, she
suffersfromarhritis,andspendsmostofhertimeinawheeledchair-"

"In a book," said Spence enviously, "that wheeled chair business would be phony, but in real life it's
probablyallaccordingtoCocker."

"Secondly," continued Poirot, "Mrs Upward seems of a dogmatic and forceful disposition, more
inclinedtobullythantocoax,whichdoesnotagreewiththeaccountsofouryoungEva.Ontheother
hand,people'scharactersdodevelopandself-assertivenessisaqualitythatoftencomeswithage."

"That's true enough," conceded Spence. "Mrs Upward - not impossible but unlikely. Now the other
possibilities.JaniceCourtland?"

"Can,Ithink,beruledout.ThereisnooneinBroadhinnytherightage."

"Unless one of the younger women is Janice Courtland with her face lifted. Don't mind me - just my
littlejoke."

"There are three women of thirty-odd. There is Deirdre Henderson. There is Dr Rendell's wife, and
thereisMrsGuyCarpenter.Thatistosay,anyoneofthesecouldbeLilyGambolloralternativelyEva
Kane'sdaughterasfarasagegoes."

"Andasfaraspossibilitygoes?"

Poirotsighed.

"EvaKane'sdaughtermaybetallorshort,darkorfair-wehavenoguidetowhatshelookslike.We
haveconsideredDeirdreHendersoninthatrole.Nowfortheothertwo.FirstofallIwilltellyouthis:
MrsRendellisafraidofsomething."

"Afraidofyou?"

"Ithinkso."

"That might be significant," said Spence slowly. "You're suggesting that Mrs Rendell might be Eva
Kane'sdaughterorLilyGamboll.Isshefairordark?"

"Fair."

"LilyGambollwasafair-hairedchild."

"MrsCarpenterisalsofair-haired.Amostexpensivelymade-upyoungwoman.Whethersheisactually
good-lookingornot,shehasveryremarkableeyes.Lovelywide-opendark-blueeyes."

"Now,Poirot-"Spenceshookhisheadathisfriend."Doyouknowwhatshelookedlikeassheranout
of the room to call her husband? I was reminded of a lovely fluttering moth. She blundered into the
furnitureandstretchedherhandsoutlikeablindthing."

Spencelookedathimindulgently.

"Romantic, that's what you are, M. Poirot," he said. "You and your lovely fluttering moths and wide-
openblueeyes."

"Not at all," said Poirot. "My friend Hastings, was romantic and sentimental, me never! Me, I am
severely practical. What I am telling you is that if a girl's claim to beauty depend principally on the
loveliness of her eyes, then, no matter how short-sighted she is, she will take off her spectacles and
learntofeelherwayroundevenifoutlinesareblurredanddistanceshardtojudge."

And gently, with his forefinger, he tapped the photograph of the child, Lily Gamboll in her thick

disfiguringspectacles.

"Sothatswhatyouthink?LilyGamboll?"

"No, I speak only of what might be. At the time Mrs McGinty died Mrs Carpenter was not yet Mrs
Carpenter.Shewasayoungwarwidow,verybadlyoff,livinginalabourer'scottage.Shewasengaged
tobemarriedtotherichmanoftheneighbourhood-amanwithpoliticalambitionsandagreatsenseof
his own importance. If Guy Carpenter had found out that he was about to marry, say, a child of low
origin who had attained notoriety by hitting her aunt on the head with a chopper, or alternatively the
daughter of Craig, one of the most notorious criminals of the century - prominently placed in your
ChamberofHorrors-well,oneaskswouldhehavegonethroughwithit?Yousayperhaps,ifheloved
the girl, yes! But he is not quite that kind of man. I would put him down as selfish, ambitious, and a
manveryniceinthemannerofhisreputation.IthinkthatifyoungMrsSelkirk,asshewasthen,was
anxiousachievethematchshewouldhavebeenveryveryanxiousthatnohintofanunfortunatenature
gotherfiance'sears."

"Isee,youthinkit'sher,doyou?"

"Itellyouagain,moncher,Idonotknow.Iexamineonlypossibilities.MrsCarpenterwasonherguard
againstme,careful,alarmed."

"Thatlooksbad."

"Yes,yes,butitisallverydifficult.OnceIstayedwithsomefriendsinthecountryandtheywentoutto
dotheshooting.Youknowthewayitgoes?Onewalkswiththedogsandtheguns,andthedogs,they
putupthegame-itfliesoutofthewoods,upintotheairandyougobangbang.Thatislikeus.Itisnot
onlyonebirdweputup,perhaps,thereareotherbirdsinthecover.Birds,perhaps,withwhichwehave
nothingtodo.Butthebirdsthemselvesdonotknowthat.Wemustmakeverysure,cherami,whichis
ourbird.DuringMrsCarpenter'swidowhood,theremayhavebeenindiscretions-noworsethanthat,
but still inconvenient. Certainly there must be some reason why she says to me quickly that Mrs
McGintywasaliar!"

SuperintendentSpencerubbedhisnose.

"Let'sgetthisclear,Poirot.Whatdoyoureallythink?"

"WhatIthinkdoesnotmatter.Imustknow.Andasyet,thedogshaveonlyjustgoneintothecovert."

Spencemurmured:

"Ifwecouldgetanythingatalldefinite.Onereallysuspiciouscircumstance.Asitis,it'salltheoryand
ratherfar-fetchedtheoryatthat.Thewholething'sthin,youknow,asIsaid.Doesanyonereallymurder
forthereasonswe'vebeenconsidering?"

"That depends," said Poirot. "It depends on a lot of family circumstances we do not know. But the
passion for respectability is very strong. These are not artists or Bohemians. Very nice people live in
Broadhinny.Mypostmistresssaidso.Andnicepeopleliketopreservetheirniceness.Yearsofhappy
marriedlife,maybe,nosuspicionthatyouwereonceanotoriousfigureinoneofthemostsensational
murder trials, no suspicion that your child is the child of a famous murderer. One might say 'I would
ratherdiethanhavemyhusbandknow!'Or'Iwouldratherdiethanmydaughterdiscoverwhosheis!'
Andthenyouwouldgoontoreflectthatitwouldbebetter,perhaps,ifMrsMcGintydied..."

Spencesaidquietly:

"Soyouthinkit'stheWetherbys."

"No.Theyfitthebest,perhaps,butthatisall.Inactualcharacter,MrsUpwardisamorelikelykiller
thanMrsWetherby.Shehasdeterminationandwillpowerandshefairlydotesonherson.Topreventhis
learningofwhathappenedbeforeshemarriedhisfatherandsettleddowntorespectablemarriedbliss,I
thinkshemightgofar."

"Woulditupsethimsomuch?"

"PersonallyIdonotthinkso.YoungRobinhasamodernscepticalpointofview,isthoroughlyselfish,
and in any case is less devoted, I should say, to his mother than she to him. He is not another James
Bentley."

"Granting Mrs Upward was Eva Kane, her son Robin wouldn't kill Mrs McGinty to prevent that fact
comingout?"

"Not for a moment, I should say. He would probably capitalise it. Use the fact for publicity for his
plays! I can't see Robin Upward comitting a murder for respectability, or devotion, or in fact for
anythingbutagoodsolidgaintoRobinUpward."

Spencesighed.Hesaid,"It'sawidefield.Wemaybeabletogetsomethingonthepasthistoryofthese
people.Butitwilltaketime.Thewarhascomplicatedthings.Recordsdestroyed-endlessopportunities
for people who want to cover their traces doing so by means of other people's identity cards etc.,
especiallyafter'incidents'whennobodycouldknowwhichcorpsewaswhich!Ifwecouldconcentrate
onjustonelot,butyou'vegotsomanypossibles,M.Poirot!"

"Wemaybeabletocutthemdownsoon."

Poirot left the Superintendent's office with less cheerfulness in his heart than he had shown in his
manner.HewasobsessedasSpencewas,bytheurgeoftime.Ifonlyhecouldhavetime...

Andfurtherbackstillwasoneteasingdoubt-wastheedificeheandSpencehadbuiltupreallysound?
Supposing,afterall,thatJamesBentleywasguilty...

Hedidnotgiveintothatdoubt,butitworriedhim.

AgainandagainhehadgoneoverinhismindtheinterviewhehadhadwithJamesBentley.Hethought
ofitnowwhilsthewaitedontheplatformofKilchesterforhistraintocomein.Ithadbeenmarketday
andtheplatformwascrowded.Morecrowdswerecominginthroughthebarriers.

Poirotleanedforwardtolook.Yes,thetrainwascomingatlast.Beforehecouldrighthimselfhefelta
suddenhardpurposefulshoveinthesmallofhisback.Itwassoviolentandsounexpectedthathewas
taken completely unawares. In another second he would have fallen on the line under the incoming
train,butamanbesidehimontheplatformcaughtholdofhiminthenickoftime,pullinghimback.

"Why, whatever came over you?" he demanded. He was a big burly Army Sergeant. "Taken queer?
Man,youwerenearlyunderthetrain."

"Ithankyou.Ithankyouathousandtimes."Alreadythecrowdwasmillingroundthem,boardingthe
train,othersleavingit.

"Allrightnow?I'llhelpyouin."

Shaken,Poirotsubsidedontoaseat.

Useless to say "I was pushed" but he had been pushed. Up till that very evening he had gone about

consciouslyonhisguard,onthealertfordanger.ButaftertalkingwithSpence,afterSpence'sbantering
enquiryastowhetheranyattemptonhislifehadbeenmade,hehadinsensiblyregardedthedangeras
overorunlikelytomaterialise.

But how wrong he had been! Amongst those he had interviewed in Broadhinny one interview had
achieved a result. Somebody had been afraid. Somebody had sought to put an end to his dangerous
resuscitationofaclosedcase.

FromacallboxinthestationatBroadhinny,PoirotrangupSuperintendentSpence.

"It is you, mon ami? Attend, I pray. I have news for you. Splendid news. Somebody has tried to kill
me..."

Helistenedwithsatisfactiontotheflowofremarksfromtheotherend.

"No,Iamnothurt.Butitwasaverynearthing...Yes,underatrain.No,Ididnotseewhodidit.Butbe
assured,myfriend,Ishallfindout.Weknownow-thatweareontherighttrack."

Chapter12

The man who was testing the electric meter passed the time of day with Guy Carpenter's superior
manservantwhowaswatchinghim.

"Electricity'sgoingtooperateonanewbasis,"heexplained."Gradedflatrateaccordingtooccupancy."

Thesuperiorbutlerremarkedsceptically:

"Whatyoumeanisit'sgoingtocostmorelikeeverythingelse?"

"That depends. Fair shares for all, that's what I say. Did you go in to the meeting at Kilchester last
night?"

"No."

"Yourboss,MrCarpenter,spokeverywell,theysay.Thinkhe'llgetin?"

"Itwasanearshavelasttime,Ibelieve."

"Yes.Ahundredandtwenty-fivemajority,somethinglikethat.Doyoudrivehimintothesemeetings,
ordoeshedrivehimself?"

"Usuallydriveshimself.Likesdriving.He'sgotaRollsBentley."

"Doeshimselfwell.MrsCarpenterdrive,too?"

"Yes.Drivesalottoofast,inmyopinion."

"Womenusuallydo.Wassheatthemeetinglastnighttoo?Orisn'tsheinterestedinpolitics?"

Thesuperiorbutlergrinned.

"Pretendssheis,anyway.However,shedidn'tstickitoutlastnight.Hadaheadacheorsomethingand
leftinthemiddleofthespeeches."

"Ah!"theelectricianpeeredintothefuseboxes."Nearlydonenow,"heremarked.Heputafewmore
desultoryquestionsashecollectedhistoolsandpreparedtodepart.

Hewalkedbrisklydownthedrive,butroundthecornerfromthegateway,hestoppedandmadeanentry
inhispocketbook.

"C.drovehomealonelastnight.Reachedhome10.30(approx.).CouldhavebeenatKilchesterCentral
Stationattimeindicated.MrsC.leftmeetingearly.GothomeonlytenminutebeforeC.Saidtohave
comehomebytrain."

Itwasthesecondentryintheelectrician'sbook.Thefirstran:

"Dr R. called out on case last night. Direction of Kilchester. Could have been at Kilchester Central
Station at time indicated. Mrs R. alone all evening in house(?) After taking coffee in, Mrs Scott,

housekeeper,didnotseeheragainthatnight.Hassmallcarofherown."

II

AtLaburnums,collaborationwasinprocess

RobinUpwardwassayingearnestly:

"Youdosee,don'tyou,whatawonderfullinethatis?Andifwereallygetafeelingofsexantagonism
betweenthechapandthegirlit'llpepthewholethingupenormously!"

Sadly,MrsOliverranherhandsthroughherwindsweptgreyhair,causingittolookasthoughsweptnot
bywindbutbyatornado.

"YoudoseewhatImean,don'tyou,Ariadnedarling?"

"Oh,Iseewhatyoumean,"saidMrsOlivergloomily.

"Butthemainthingisforyoutofeelreallyhappyaboutit."

Nobodybutareallydeterminedself-deceivercouldhavethoughtthatMrsOliverlookedhappy.

Robincontinuedblithely:

"WhatIfeelis,here'sthatwonderfulyoungman,parachuteddown-"

MrsOliverinterrupted:

"He'ssixty."

"Ohno!"

"Heis."

"Idon'tseehimlikethat.Thirty-five-notadayolder."

"ButI'vebeenwritingbooksabouthimforthirtyyears,andhewasatleastthirty-fiveinthefirstone."

"But, darling, if he's sixty, you can't have the tension between him and the girl - what's her name?
Ingrid.Imean,itwouldmakehimjustanastyoldman!"

"Itcertainlywould."

"Soyousee,hemustbethirty-five,"saidRobintriumphantly.

"Then he can't be Sven Hjerson. Just make him a Norwegian young man who's in the Resistance
Movement."

"ButdarlingAriadne,thewholepointoftheplayisSvenHjerson.You'vegotanenormouspublicwho
simplyadoreSvenHjerson,andwho'llflocktoseeSvenHjerson.He'sboxoffice,darling!"

"Butpeoplewhoreadmybooksknowwhathe'slike!Youcan'tinventanentirelynewyoungmaninthe
NorwegianResistanceMovementandjustcallhimSvenHjerson."

"Ariadnedarling,Ididexplainallthat.It'snotabook,darling,it'saplay.Andwe'vejustgottohave
glamour!Andifwegetthistension,thisantagonismbetweenSvenHjersonandthis-what's-her-name?
-Karen-youknow,allagainsteachotherandyetreallyfrightfullyattracted"

"SvenHjersonnevercaredforwomen,"saidMrsOlivercoldly.

"But you can't have him a pansy, darling! Not for this sort of play. I mean it's not green bay trees or
anythinglikethat.It'sthrillsandmurdersandcleanopen-airfun."

Thementionofopenairhaditseffect.

"IthinkI'mgoingout,"saidMrsOliverabruptly."Ineedair.Ineedairbadly."

"ShallIcomewithyou?"askedRobintenderly.

"No,I'drathergoalone."

"Just as you like, darling. Perhaps you're right. I'd better go and whip up an egg nog for Madre. The
poorsweetisfeelingjustateenyweenybitleftoutofthings.Shedoeslikeattention,youknow.And
you'll think about that scene in the cellar, won't you? The whole thing is coming really wonderfully
well.It'sgoingtobethemosttremendoussuccess.Iknowitis!"

MrsOliversighed.

"Butthemainthing,"continuedRobin,"isforyoutofeelhappyaboutit!"

Castingacoldlookathim,MrsOliverthrewashowymilitarycapewhichshehadonceboughtinItaly
aboutherampleshouldersandwentoutintoBroadhinny.

Shewouldforgethertroubles,shedecided,byturninghermindtotheelucidationofrealcrime.Hercule
Poirot needed help. She would take a look at the inhabitants of Broadhinny, exercise her woman's
intuitionwhichhadneverfailed,andtellPoirotwhothemurdererwas.Thenhewouldonlyhavetoget
thenecessaryevidence.

MrsOliverstartedherquestbygoingdownthehilltothepostofficeandbuyingtwopoundsofapples.
Duringthepurchase,sheenteredintoamicableconversationwithMrsSweetiman.

Havingagreedthattheweatherwasverywarmforthetimeofyear,MrsOliverremarkedthatshewas
stayingwithMrsUpwardatLaburnums.

"Yes,Iknow.You'llbetheladyfromLondonthatwritesthemurderbooks?ThreeofthemI'vegothere
nowinPenguins."

MrsOlivercastaglanceoverthePenguindisplay.Itwasslightlyoverlaidbychildren'swaders.

"TheAffairoftheSecondGoldfish,"shemused,"that'squiteagoodone.TheCatitwasWhoDied-
that'swhereImadeablowpipeafootlongandit'sreallysixfeet.Ridiculousthatablowpipeshouldbe
thatsize,butsomeonewrotefromamuseumtotellmeso.SometimesIthinktherearepeoplewhoonly

read books in the hope of finding mistakes in them. What's the other one of them? Oh! Death of a
Debutante-that'sfrightfultripe!Imadesulphonalsolubleinwateranditisn't,andthewholethingis
wildly impossible from start to finish. At least eight people die before Sven Hjerson gets his
brainwave."

"Verypopulartheyare,"saidMrsSweetiman,unmovedbythisinterestingself-criticism."Youwouldn't
believe!I'veneverreadanymyself,becauseIdon'treallygettimeforreading."

"Youhadamurderofyourowndownhere,didn'tyou?"saidMrsOliver.

"Yes,lastNovemberthatwas.Almostnextdoorhere,asyoumightsay."

"Ihearthere'sadetectivedownhere,lookingintoit?"

"Ah,youmeanthelittleforeigngentlemanupatLongMeadows?Hewasinhereonlyyesterdayand-"

MrsSweetimanbrokeoffasanothercustomerenteredforstamps.

Shebustledroundtothepostofficeside.

"Goodmorning,MissHenderson.Warmforthetimeofyear,today."

"Yes,itis."

MrsOliverstaredhardatthetallgirl'sback.ShehadaSealyhamwithheronalead.

"Meansthefruitblossomwillgetnippedlater!"saidMrsSweetiman,withgloomyrelish."How'sMrs
Wetherbykeeping?"

"Fairlywell,thankyou.Shehasn'tbeenoutmuch.There'sbeensuchaneastwindlately."

"There'saverygoodpictureonatKilchesterthisweek,MissHenderson.Yououghttogo."

"Ithoughtofgoinglastnight,butIcouldn'treallybother."

"It'sBettyGrablenextweek-I'moutof5s.booksofstamps.Willtwo6d.onesdoyou?"

Asthegirlwentout,MrsOliversaid:

"MrsWetherby'saninvalid,isn'tshe?"

"That'sasmaybe,"MrsSweetimanrepliedratheracidly."There'ssomeofusashasn'tthetimetolay
by."

"Idosoagreewithyou,"saidMrsOliver."ItellMrsUpwardthatifshe'donlymakemoreofaneffort
touseherlegsitwouldbebetterforher."

MrsSweetimanlookedamused.

"Shegetsaboutwhenshewantsto-orsoI'veheard."

"Doesshenow?"

MrsOliverconsideredthesourceofinformation.

"Janet?"shehazarded.

"Janet Groom grumbles a bit," said Mrs Sweetiman. "And you can hardly wonder, can you? Miss
Groom's not so young herself and she has the rheumatism cruel bad when the wind's in the east. But
arthritis,it'scalled,whenit'sthegentryhasit,andinvalidchairsandwhatnot.Ahwell,Iwouldn'trisk
losingtheuseofmylegs,Iwouldn't.Butthere,nowadaysevenifyou'vegotachilblainyouruntothe
doctor with it so as to get your money's worth out of the National Health. Too much of this health
businesswe'vegot.Neverdidyouanygoodthinkinghowbadyoufeel."

"Iexpectyou'reright,"saidMrsOliver.

ShepickedupherapplesandwentoutinpursuitofDeirdreHenderson.Thiswasnotdifficult,sincethe

Sealyham was old and fat and was enjoying a leisurely examination of tufts of grass and pleasant
smells.

Dogs,MrsOliverconsidered,werealwaysameansatintroduction.

"Whatadarling!"sheexclaimed.

Thebigyoungwomanwiththeplainfacelookedgratified.

"Heisratherattractive,"shesaid."Aren'tyou,Ben?"

Benlookedup,gaveaslightwiggleofhissausage-likebody,resumedhisnasalinspectionofatuftof
thistles,approveditandproceededtoregisterapprovalintheusualmanner.

"Doeshefight?"askedMrsOliver."Sealyhamsdoveryoften."

"Yes,he'sanawfulfighter.That'swhyIkeephimonthelead."

"Ithoughtso."

BothwomenconsideredtheSealyham.

ThenDeirdreHendersonsaidwithakindofrush:

"You're-you'reAriadneOliver,aren'tyou?"

"Yes.I'mstayingwiththeUpwards."

"Iknow.Robintoldusyouwerecoming.ImusttellyouhowmuchIenjoyyourbooks."

MrsOliver,asusual,wentpurplewithembarrassment.

"Oh,"shemurmuredunhappily."I'mveryglad,"sheaddedgloomily.

"Ihaven'treadasmanyofthemasI'dliketo,becausewegetbookssentdownfromtheTimesBook
Club and Mother doesn't like detective stories. She's frightfully sensitive and they keep her awake at
night.ButIadorethem."

"You'vehadarealcrimedownhere,haven'tyou?"saidMrsOliver."Whichhousewasit?Oneofthese
cottages?"

"Thatonethere."

DeirdreHendersonspokeinaratherchokedvoice.

Mrs Oliver directed her gaze on Mrs McGinty's former dwelling, the front doorstep of which was at
present occupied by two unpleasant little Kiddles who were happily torturing a cat. As Mrs Oliver
steppedforwardtoremonstrate,thecatescapedbyafirmuseofitsclaws.

TheeldestKiddle,whohadbeenseverelyscratched,setupahowl.

"Servesyouright,"saidMrsOliver,addingtoDeirdreHenderson:"Itdoesn'tlooklikeahousewhere
there'sbeenamurder,doesit?"

Bothwomenseemedtobeinaccordaboutthat.

MrsOlivercontinued.

"Anoldcharwoman,wasn'tit,andsomebodyrobbedher?"

"HerlodgerShehadsomemoney-underthefloor."

"Isee."

DeirdreHendersonsaidsuddenly:

"But perhaps it wasn't him after all. There's a funny little man down here - a foreigner. His name's
HerculePoirot.-"

"HerculePoirot?Ohyes,Iknowallabouthim."

"Ishereallyadetective?"

"Mydear,he'sfrightfullycelebrated.Andterriblyclever."

"Thenperhapshe'llfindoutthathedidn'tdoitafterall."

"Who?"

"The-thelodger.JamesBentley.Oh,Ihopehe'llgetoff."

"Doyou?Why?"

"BecauseIdon'twantittobehim.Ieverwantedittobehim."

MrsOliverlookedathercuriously,startledbythepassioninhervoice.

"Didyouknowhim?"

"No,"saidDeirdreslowly,"Ididn'tknowhim.ButonceBengothisfootcaughtinatrapandhehelped
metogethimfree.Andwetalkedalittle..."

"Whatwashelike?"

"Hewasdreadfullylonely.Hismotherhadjustdied.Hewasfrightfullyfondofhismother."

"Andyouareveryfondofyours?"saidMrsOliveracutely.

"Yes.Thatmademeunderstand.Understandwhathefelt,Imean.MotherandI-we'vejustgoteach
other,yousee."

"IthoughtRobintoldmethatyouhadastepfather."

Deirdresaidbitterly:"Ohyes,I'vegotastepfather."

MrsOliversaidvaguely:"It'snotthesamething,isit,asone'sownfather.Doyourememberyourown
father?"

"No,hediedbeforeIwasborn.MothermarriedMrWetherbywhenIwasfouryearsold.I-I'vealways
hated him. And Mother -" She paused before saying: "Mother's had a very sad life. She's had no
sympathyorunderstanding.Mystepfatherisamostunfeelingman,hardandcold."

MrsOlivernodded,andthenmurmured:

"ThisJamesBentleydoesn'tsoundatalllikeacriminal."

"Ineverthoughtthepolicewouldarresthim.I'msureitmusthavebeensometramp.Therearehorrid
trampsalongthisroadsometimes.Itmusthavebeenoneofthem."

MrsOliversaidconsolingly:

"PerhapsHerculePoirotwillfindoutthetruth."

"Yes,perhaps-"

SheturnedoffabruptlyintothegatewayofHunter'sClose.

MrsOliverlookedafterherforamomentortwo,thendrewasmallnotebookfromherhandbag.Init
shewrote:"NotDeirdreHenderson,"andunderlinedthenotsofirmlythatthepencilbroke.

III

Half-wayupthehillshemetRobinUpwardcomingdownitwithahandsomeplatinum-hairedyoung
woman.

Robinintroducedthem.

"ThisisthewonderfulAriadneOliver,Eve,"hesaid."Mydear,Idon'tknowhowshedoesit.Looksso
benevolent, too, doesn't she? Not at all as though she wallowed in crime. This is Eve Carpenter. Her
husbandisgoingtobeournextMember.Thepresentone,SirGeorgeCartwright,isquitegaga,poor
oldman.Hejumpsoutatyounggirlsfrombehinddoors."

"Robin,youmustn'tinventsuchterriblelies.You'lldiscredittheParty."

"Well,whyshouldIcare?Itisn'tmyParty.I'maLiberal.That'stheonlyPartyit'spossibletobelongto
nowadays,reallysmallandselect,andwithoutachanceofgettingin.Iadorelostcauses."

HeaddedtoMrsOliver:

"Evewantsustocomeinfordrinksthisevening.AsortofPartyforyou,Ariadne.Youknow,meetthe
lion. We're all terribly thrilled to have you here. Can't you put the scene of your next murder in
Broadhinny?"

"Ohdo,MrsOliver,"saidEveCarpenter.

"YoucaneasilygetSvenHjersondownhere,"saidRobin."HecanbelikeHerculePoirot,stayingatthe
Summerhayes' Guest House. We're just going there now because I told Eve Hercule Poirot is just as
muchacelebrityinhislineasyouareinyours,andshesaysshewasratherrudetohimyesterday,so
she's going to ask him to the party too. But seriously, dear, do make your next murder happen in
Broadhinny.We'dallbesothrilled."

"Ohdo,MrsOliver.Itwouldbesuchfun,"saidEveCarpenter.

"Whoshallwehaveasmurdererandwhoasvictim?"askedRobin.

"Who'syourpresentcharwoman?"askedMrsOliver.

"Ohmydear,notthatkindofmurder.Sodull.No,IthinkEveherewouldmakeratheranicevictim.
Strangled,perhaps,withherownnylonstockings.No,that'sbeendone."

"I think you'd better be murdered, Robin," said Eve. "The coming playwright, stabbed in country
cottage."

"Wehaven'tsettledonamurdereryet,"saidRobin."WhataboutmyMamma?Usingherwheeledchair
sothattherewouldn'tbefootprints.Ithinkthatwouldbelovely."

"Shewouldn'twanttostabyou,though,Robin."

Robinconsidered.

"No, perhaps not. As a matter of fact I was considering her strangling you. She wouldn't mind doing
thathalfasmuch."

"But I want you to be the victim. And the person who kills you can be Deirdre Henderson. The
repressedplaingirlwhomnobodynotices."

"Thereyouare,Ariadne,"saidRobin."Thewholeplotofyournextnovelpresentedtoyou.Allyou'll
have to do is work in a few fake clues, and - of course - do the actual writing. Oh, goodness, what
terribledogsMaureendoeshave."

They had turned in at the gate of Long Meadows, and two Irish wolfhounds had rushed forward,
barking.

MaureenSummerhayescameoutintothestableyardwithabucketinherhand.

"Down,Flyn.Comehere,Cormic.Hullo.I'mjustcleaningoutPiggy'sstable."

"Weknowthat,darling,"saidRobin."Wecansmellyou,fromhere.How'sPiggygettingalong?"

"We had a terrible fright about him yesterday. He was lying down and he didn't want his breakfast.
JohnnieandIreadupallthediseasesinthePigBookandcouldn'tsleepforworryingabouthim,but
thismorninghewasfrightfullywellandgayandabsolutelychargedJohnniewhenJohnniecameinwith

hisfood.Knockedhimflat,asamatteroffact.Johnniehadtogoandhaveabath."

"WhatexcitinglivesyouandJohnnielead,"saidRobin.

Evesaid:

"WillyouandJohnniecomeinandhavedrinkswithusthisevening,Maureen?"

"Loveto."

"TomeetMrsOliver,"saidRobin,"butactuallyyoucanmeethernow.Thisisshe."

"Areyoureally?"saidMaureen."Howthrilling!YouandRobinaredoingaplaytogether,aren'tyou?"

"It'scomingalongsplendidly,"saidRobin."Bytheway,Ariadne,Ihadabrainwaveafteryouwentout
thismorning.Aboutcasting."

"Oh,casting,"saidMrsOliverinarelievedvoice.

"I know just the right person to play Eric. Cecil Leech - he's playing in the Little Rep at Cullenquay.
We'llrunoverandseetheshowoneevening."

"WewantyourP.G.,"saidEvetoMaureen."Isheabout?Iwanttoaskhimtonighttoo."

"We'llbringhimalong,"saidMaureen.

"IthinkI'dbetteraskhimmyself.AsamatteroffactIwasabitrudetohimyesterday."

"Oh!Well,he'ssomewhereabout,"saidMaureenvaguely."Inthegarden,Ithink-Cormic-Flyn-those
damneddogs-"

She dropped the bucket with a clatter and ran in the direction of the duck pond, whence a furious
quackinghadarisen.

Chapter13

MrsOliver,glassinhand,approachedHerculePoirottowardstheendoftheCarpenters'party.Uptill
thatmomenttheyhadeachofthembeenthecentreofanadmiringcircle.Nowthatagooddealofgin
hadbeenconsumed,andthepartywasgoingwell,therewasatendencyforoldfriendstogettogether
andretaillocalscandal,andthetwooutsiderswereabletotalktoeachother.

"Comeoutontheterrace,"saidMrsOliver,inaconspirator'swhisper.

Atthesametimeshepressedintohishandasmallpieceofpaper.

Togethertheysteppedoutthroughthefrenchwindowsandwalkedalongtheterrace.Poirotunfoldedthe
pieceofpaper.

"DrRendell,"heread.

HelookedquestioninglyatMrsOliver.MrsOlivernoddedvigorously,alargeplumeofgreyhairfalling
acrossherfaceasshedidso.

"He'sthemurderer,"saidMrsOliver.

"Youthinkso?Why?"

"Ijustknowit,"saidMrsOliver."He'sthetype.Heartyandgenial,andallthat."

"Perhaps."

Poirotsoundedunconvinced.

"Butwhatwouldyousaywashismotive?"

"Unprofessionalconduct,"saidMrsOliver."AndMrsMcGintyknewaboutit.Butwhateverthereason
was,youcanbequitesureitwashim.I'velookedatalltheothers,andhe'stheone."

Inreply,Poirotremarkedconversationally:

"LastnightsomebodytriedtopushmeontotherailwaylineatKilchesterstation."

"Goodgracious.Tokillyou,doyoumean?"

"Ihavenodoubtthatwastheidea."

"AndDrRendellwasoutonacase,Iknowhewas."

"Iunderstand-yes-thatDrRendellwasoutonacase."

"Thenthatsettlesit,"saidMrsOliverwithsatisfaction.

"Not quite," said Poirot. "Both Mr and Mrs Carpenter were in Kilchester last night and came home
separately.MrsRendellmayhavesatathomealltheeveninglisteningtoherwirelessorshemaynot-
noonecansay.MissHendersonoftengoestothepicturesinKilchester."

"Shedidn'tlastnight.Shewasathome.Shetoldmeso."

"You cannot believe all you are told," said Poirot reprovingly. "Families hang together. The foreign
maid,Frieda,ontheotherhand,wasatthepictureslastnight,soshecannottelluswhowasorwasnot
athomeatHunter'sClose!Yousee,itisnotsoeasytonarrowthingsdown."

"Icanprobablyvouchforourlot,"saidMrsOliver."Whattimedidyousaythishappened?"

"Atninethirty-fiveexactly."

"ThenatanyrateLaburnumshasgotacleanbillofhealth.Fromeighto'clocktohalf-pastten,Robin,
hismother,andIwereplayingpokerpatience."

"Ithoughtpossiblythatyouandhewereclosetedtogetherdoingthecollaboration?"

"Leaving Mamma to leap on a motor bicycle concealed in the shrubbery?" Mrs Oliver laughed. "No,
Mamma was under our eye." She sighed as sadder thoughts came to her. "Collaboration," she said
bitterly."Thewholething'sanightmare!Howwouldyouliketoseeabigblackmoustachestuckonto
SuperintendentBattleandbetolditwasyou."

Poirotblinkedalittle.

"Butitisanightmare,thatsuggestion!"

"NowyouknowwhatIsuffer."

"I,too,Isuffer,"saidPoirot."ThecookingofMadameSummerhayes,itisbeyonddescription.Itisnot
cookingatall.Andthedraughts,thecoldwinds,theupsetstomachsofthecats,thelonghairsofthe
dogs, the broken legs of the chairs, the terrible, terrible bed in which I sleep -" He shut his eyes in
remembranceofagonies,"thetepidwaterinthebathroom,theholesinthestaircarpet,andthecoffee-
words cannot describe to you the fluid which they serve to you as coffee. It is an affront to the
stomach."

"Dearme,"saidMrsOliver."Andyet,youknow,she'sawfullynice."

"MrsSummerhayes?Sheischarming.Sheisquitecharming.Thatmakesitmuchmoredifficult."

"Hereshecomesnow,"saidMrsOliver.

MaureenSummerhayeswasapproachingthem.

Therewasanecstaticlookonherfreckledface.Shecarriedaglassinherhand.Shesmiledatthemboth
withaffection.

"IthinkI'mabittiddly,"sheannounced."Suchlotsoflovelygin.Idolikeparties!Wedon'toftenhave
oneinBroadhinny.It'sbecauseofyoubothbeingsocelebrated.IwishIcouldwritebooks.Thetrouble
withmeis,Ican'tdoanythingproperly."

"Youareagoodwifeandmother,madame,"saidPoirotprimly.

Maureen'seyesopenedwide.Attractivehazeleyesinasmallfreckledface.MrsOliverwonderedhow
oldshewas.Notmuchmorethanthirty,sheguessed.

"AmI?"saidMaureen."Iwonder.Ilovethemallterribly,butisthatenough?"

Poirotcoughed.

"Ifyouwillnotthinkmepresumptuous,madame.Awifewhotrulylovesherhusbandshouldtakegreat
careofhisstomach.Itisimportant,thestomach."

Maureenlookedslightlyaffronted.

"Johnnie'sgotawonderfulstomach,"shesaidindignantly."Absolutelyflat.Practicallynotastomachat
all."

"Iwasreferringtowhatisputinsideit."

"Youmeanmycooking,"saidMaureen."Ineverthinkitmattersmuchwhatoneeats."

Poirotgroaned.

"Or what one wears," said Maureen dreamily. "Or what one does. I don't think things matter - not
really."

Shewassilentforamomentortwo,hereyesalcoholicallyhazy,asthoughshewaslookingintothefar
distance.

"There was a woman writing in the paper the other day," she said suddenly. "A really stupid letter.
Asking what was best to do - to let your child be adopted by someone who could give it every
advantage - every advantage, that's what she said - and she meant a good education, and clothes and
comfortable surroundings - or whether to keep it when you couldn't give it advantages of any kind. I
thinkthat'sstupid-reallystupid.Ifyoucanjustgivechildenoughtoeat-that'sallthatmatters."

Shestareddownintoheremptyglassasthoughitwereacrystal.

"I ought to know," she said. "I was an adopted child. My mother parted with me and I had every
advantage, as they call it. And it's always hurt - always - always - to know that you weren't really
wanted,thatyourmothercouldletyougo."

"Itwasasacrificeforyourgood,perhaps,"saidPoirot.

Hercleareyesmethis.

"Idon'tthinkthat'severtrue.It'sthewaytheyputittothemselves.Butwhatitboilsdowntoisthatthey
can,really,getonwithoutyou.Andithurts.Iwouldn'tgiveupmychildren-notforalltheadvantages
intheworld!"

"Ithinkyou'requiteright,"saidMrsOliver.

"AndI,too,agree,"saidPoirot.

"Thenthat'sallright,"saidMaureencheerfully."Whatarewearguingabout?"

Robin,whohadcomealongtheterracetojointhem,said:

"Yes,whatareyouarguingabout?"

"Adoption,"saidMaureen."Idon'tlikebeingadopted,doyou?"

"Well,it'smuchbetterthanbeinganorphan,don'tyouthinkso,darling?Ithinkweoughttogonow,
don'tyou?Ariadne?"

Theguestsleftinabody.DrRendellhadalreadyhadtohurryaway.Theywalkeddownthehilltogether
talkinggailywiththatextrahilaritythataseriesofcocktailsinduces.

WhentheyreachedthegateofLaburnums,Robininsistedthattheyshouldallcomein.

"JusttotellMadreallabouttheparty.Soboringforher,poorsweet,nottohavebeenabletogobecause
herlegwasplayingherup.Butshesohatesbeingleftoutofthings."

TheysurgedincheerfullyandMrsUpwardseemedpleasedtoseethem.

"Whoelsewasthere?"sheasked."TheWetherbys?"

"No,MrsWetherbydidn'tfeelwellenough,andthatHendersongirlwouldn'tcomewithouther."

"She'sreallyratherpathetic,isn'tshe?"saidShelaghRendell.

"Ithinkalmostpathological,don'tyou?"saidRobin.

"It'sthatmotherofhers,saidMaureen."Somemothersreallydoalmosteattheiryoung,don'tthey?"

SheflushedsuddenlyasshemetMrsUpward'squizzicaleye.

"DoIdevouryou,Robin?"MrsUpwardasked.

"Madre!Ofcoursenot!"

TocoverherconfusionMaureenhastilyplungedintoanaccountofherbreedingexperienceswithIrish
wolfhounds.Theconversationbecametechnical.

MrsUpwardsaiddecisively:

"Youcan'tgetawayfromheredity-inpeopleaswellasdogs."

ShelaghRendellmurmured:

"Don'tyouthinkit'senvironment?"

MrsUpwardcuthershort.

"No,mydear,Idon't.Environmentcangiveaveneer-nomore.It'swhat'sbredinpeoplethatcounts."

Hercule Poirot's eyes rested curiously on Shelagh Rendell's flushed face. She said with what seemed

unnecessarypassion:

"Butthat'scruel-unfair."

MrsUpwardsaid:"Lifeisunfair."

TheslowlazyvoiceofJohnnieSummerhayesjoinedin.

"IagreewithMrsUpward.Breedingtells.That'sbeenmycreedalways."

MrsOliversaidquestioningly:"Youmeanthingsarehandeddown.Untothethirdorfourthgeneration-
"

MaureenSummerhayessaidsuddenlyinhersweethighvoice:

"Butthatquotationgoeson:'Andshowmercyuntothousands.'"

Onceagaineverybodyseemedalittleembarrassed,perhapsattheseriousnotethathadcreptintothe
conversation.

TheymadeadiversionbyattackingPoirot.

"TellusallaboutMrs.McGinty,M.PoirotWhydidn'tthedrearylodgerkillher?"

"Heusedtomutter,youknow,"saidRobin."Walkingaboutinthelanes.I'veoftenmethim.Andreally,
definitely,helookedfrightfullyqueer."

"Youmusthavesomereasonforthinkinghedidn'tkillher,M.Poirot.Dotellus."

Poirotsmiledatthem.Hetwirledhismoustache.

"Ifhedidn'tkillher,whodid?"

"Yes,whodid?"

MrsUpwardsaiddryly:"Don'tembarrasstheman.Heprobablysuspectsoneofus."

"Oneofus?Oo!"

In the clamour Poirot's eyes met those of Mrs Upward. They were amused and - something else -
challenging?

"He suspects one of us," said Robin delightedly. "Now then, Maureen," he assumed the manner of a
bullyingK.C.,"Wherewereyouonthenightofthe-whatnightwasit?"

"November22nd,"saidPoirot.

"Onthenightofthe22nd?"

"Gracious,Idon'tknow,"saidMaureen.

"Nobodycouldknowafterallthistime,"saidMrRendell.

"Well,Ican,"saidRobin."BecauseIwasbroadcastingthatnight.IdrovetoCoalporttogiveatalkon
Some Aspects of the Theatre. I remember because I discussed Galsworthy's charwoman in the Silver
BoxatgreatlengthandthenextdayMrsMcGintywaskilledandIwonderedifthecharwomaninthe
playhadbeenlikeher."

"That's right," said Shelagh Rendell suddenly. "And I remember now because you said your mother
would be all alone because it was Janet's night off, and I came down here after dinner to keep her
company.OnlyunfortunatelyIcouldn'tmakeherhear."

"Letmethink,"saidMrsUpward."Oh!yes,ofcourse.I'dgonetobedwithaheadacheandmybedroom
facesthebackgarden."

"Andnextday,"saidShelagh,"whenIheardMrsMcGintyhadbeenkilled,Ithought'Oo!Imighthave
passed the murderer in the dark' - because at first we all thought it must have been some tramp who

brokein."

"Well,Istilldon'trememberwhatIwasdoing,"saidMaureen."ButIdorememberthenextmorning.It
wasthebakertoldus.'OldMrsMcGinty'sbeendonein,'hesaid.AndthereIwas,wonderingwhyshe
hadn'tturnedupasusual."

Shegaveashiver.

"It'shorriblereally,isn'tit?"shesaid.

MrsUpwardwasstillwatchingPoirot.

Hethoughttohimself:"Shesaveryintelligentwoman-andaruthlessone.Alsoselfish.Inwhatever
shedid,shewouldhavenoqualmsandnoremorse..."

Athinvoicewasspeaking-urging,querulous.

"Haven'tyougotanyclues,M.Poirot?"

ItwasShelaghRendell.

JohnnieSummerhayes'longdarkfacelitupenthusiastically.

"That's it, clues," he said. "That's what I like in detective stories. Clues that mean everything to the
detective-andnothingtoyou-untiltheendwhenyoufairlykickyourself.Can'tyougiveusonelittle
clue,M.Poirot?"

Laughing, pleading faces turned to him. A game to them all (or perhaps not to one of them?). But
murderwasn'tagame-murderwasdangerous.Youneverknew.

Withasuddenbrusquemovement,Poirotpulledoutfourphotographsfromhispocket.

"Youwantaclue?"hesaid."Voilà!"

Andwithadramaticgesturehetossedthemdownonthetable.

Theyclusteredround,bendingover,andutteringejaculations.

"Look!"

"Whatfrightfulfrumps!"

"Justlookattheroses.'Rowses,rowses,alltheway!'"

"Mydear,thathat!"

"Whatafrightfulchild!"

"Butwhoarethey?"

"Aren'tfashionsridiculous?"

"Thatwomanmustreallyhavebeenrathergood-lookingonce."

"Butwhyaretheyclues?"

"Whoarethey?"

Poirotlookedslowlyroundatthecircleoffaces.

Hesawnothingotherthanhemighthaveexpectedtosee.

"Youdonotrecogniseanyofthem?"

"Recognize?"

"You do not, shall I say, remember having any of those photographs before? But yes - Mrs Upward?
Yourecognisesomething,doyounot?"

MrsUpwardhesitated.

"Yes-Ithink-"

"Whichone?"

HerforefingerwentoutandrestedonthespectacledchildlikefaceofLilyGamboll.

"Youhaveseenthatphotograph-when-?"

"Quiterecently...Nowwhere-no,Ican'tremember.ButI'msureI'veseenaphotographjustlikethat."

Shesatfrowning,herbrowsdrawntogether.

ShecameoutofherabstractionasMrsRendellcametoher.

"Goodbye,MrsUpward.Idohopeyou'llcometoteawithmeonedayifyoufeeluptoit."

"Thankyou,mydear.IfRobinpushesmeupthehill."

"Ofcourse,Madre.I'vedevelopedthemosttremendousmusclespushingthatchair.Doyouremember
thedaywewenttotheWetherbysanditwassomuddy-"

"Ah!"saidMrsUpwardsuddenly.

"Whatisit,Madre?"

"Nothing.Goon."

"Getting you up the hill again. First the chair skidded and then I skidded. I thought we'd never get
home."

Laughing,theytooktheirleaveandtroopedout.

Alcohol,Poirotthought,certainlyloosensthetongue...

Hadhebeenwiseorfoolishtodisplaythosephotographs?

Hadthatgesturealsobeentheresultofalcohol?

Hewasn'tsure.

But,murmuringanexcuse,heturnedback.

Hepushedopenthegateandwalkeduptothehouse.Throughtheopenwindowonhisleftheheardthe
murmuroftwovoices.TheywerethevoicesofRobinandMrsOliver.VerylittleofMrsOliveranda
gooddealofRobin.

Poirot pushed the door open and went through the right-hand door into the room he had left a few
momentsbefore.MrsUpwardwassittingbeforethefire.Therewasaratherlookonherface.Shehad
beensodeepinthoughtthathisentrystartledher.

Atthesoundoftheapologeticlittlecoughhegave,shelookedupsharply,withastart.

"Oh,"shesaid."It'syou.Youstartledme."

"Iamsorry,madame.Didyouthinkitwassomeoneelse?Whodidyouthinkitwas?"

Shedidnotanswerthat,merelysaid:

"Didyouleavesomethingbehind?"

"WhatIfearedIhadleftwasdanger."

"Danger?"

"Danger,perhaps,toyou.Becauseyourecognisedoneofthosephotographsjustnow."

"Iwouldn'tsayrecognised.Alloldphotographslookexactlyalike."

"Listen, madame. Mrs McGinty also, or so I believe, recognised one of those photographs. And Mrs
McGintyisdead."

Withanunexpectedglintofhumourinhereye,MrsUpwardsaid:

"MrsMcGinty'sdead.Howdidshedie?StickingherneckoutjustlikeI.Isthatwhatyoumean?"

"Yes.Ifyouknowanything-anythingatall,tellittomenow.Itwillbesaferso."

"Mydearman,it'snotnearlysosimpleasthat.I'mnotatallsurethatIdoknowanything-certainly
nothingasdefiniteasafact.Vaguerecollectionsareverytrickythings.Onewouldhavetohavesome
ideaofhowandwhereandwhen,ifyoufollowwhatImean."

"Butitseemstomethatyoualreadyhavethatidea."

"Thereismoretoitthanthat.Therearevariousfactorstobetakenintoconsideration.Nowit'snogood
your rushing me, M. Poirot. I'm not the kind of person who rushes into decisions. I've a mind of my
own,andItaketimetomakeitup.WhenIcometoadecision,Iact.ButnottillI'mready."

"Youareinmanywaysasecretivewoman,madame."

"Perhaps - up to a point. Knowledge is power. Power must only be used for the right ends. You will
excusemysayingthatyoudon'tperhapsappreciatethepatternofourEnglishcountrylife."

"Inotherwordsyousaytome,'Youareonlyadamnedforeigner.'"

MrsUpwardsmiledslightly.

"Ishouldn'tbearudeasthat."

"Ifyoudonotwanttotalktome,thereisSuperintendentSpence."

"MydearM.Poirot.Notthepolice.Noatthisstage."

Heshruggedhisshoulders.

"Ihavewarnedyou."hesaid.

ForhewassurethatbynowMrsUpwardrememberedquitewellexactlywhenandwhereshehadseen
thephotograph.

Chapter14

"Decidedly,"saidHerculePoirottohimselfthefollowingmorning,"thespringishere."

Hisapprehensionsofthenightbeforeseemedsingularlygroundless.

MrsUpwardwasasensiblewomanwhocouldtakegoodcareofherself.

Neverthelessinsomecuriousway,sheintriguedhim.Hedidnotatallunderstandherreactions.Clearly
shedidnotwanthimto.ShehadrecognisedthephotographofLilyGambollandshewasdeterminedto
playalonehand.

Poirot,pacingagardenpathwhilehepursuedthesereflections,wasstartledbyavoicebehindhim.

"M.Poirot."

Mrs Rendell had come up so quietly that he had not heard her. Since yesterday he had felt extremely
nervous.

"Pardon,madame.Youmademejump."

Mrs Rendell smiled mechanically. If he were nervous, Mrs Rendell, he thought, was even more so.
Therewastwitchinginoneofhereyelidsandherhandsworkedrestlesslytogether.

"I-IhopeI'mnotinterruptingyou.Perhapsyou'rebusy."

"Butno,Iamnotbusy.Thedayitisfine.Ienjoythefeelingofspring.Itisgoodtobeoutdoors.Inthe
houseofMrsSummerhayesthereisalways,butalways,thecurrentofair."

"Thecurrent-"

"WhatinEnglandyoucalladraught."

"Yes.Yes,Isupposethereis."

"Thewindows,theywillnotshutandthedoorstheyflyopenallthetime."

"It'sratheraramshacklehouse.Andofcourse,theSummerhayesaresobadlyofftheycan'taffordtodo
muchtoit.I'dletitgoifIwerethem.Iknowit'sbeeninthefamilyforhundredsofyears,butnowadays
youjustcan'tclingontothingsforsentiment'ssake."

"No,wearenotsentimentalnowadays."

Therewasasilence.Outofthecornerofhiseye,Poirotwatchedthosenervouswhitehands.Hewaited
forhertotaketheinitiative.Whenshedidspeakitwasabruptly.

"I suppose," she said," that when you are, well, investigating a thing, you'd always have to have a
pretext?"

Poirotconsideredthequestion.Thoughhedidnotlookather,hewasperfectlywellawareofhereager

sidewaysglancefixedonhim.

"Asyousay,madame,"herepliednoncommittally,"itisaconvenience."

"Toexplainyourbeingthere,and-andaskingthings."

"Itmightbeexpedient."

"Why-whyareyoureallyhereinBroadhinny,M.Poirot?"

Heturnedamildsurprisedgazeonher.

"But,mydearlady,Itoldyou-toinquireintothedeathofMrsMcGinty."

MrsRendellsaidsharply:

"Iknowthat'swhatyousay.Butit'sridiculous."

Poirotraisedhiseyebrows.

"Isit?"

"Ofcourseitis.Nobodybelievesit."

"AndyetIassureyou,itissimplefact."

Herpaleblueeyesblinkedandshelookedaway.

"Youwon'ttellme."

"Tellyou-what,madame?"

Shechangedthesubjectabruptlyagain,itseemed.

"Iwantedtoaskyou-aboutanonymousletters."

"Yes,"saidPoirotencouraginglyasshestopped.

"They'rereallyalwayslies,aren'tthey?"

"Theyaresometimeslies,"saidPoirotcautiously.

"Usually,"shepersisted.

"Idon'tknowthatIwouldgoasfarassayingthat."

ShelaghRendellsaidvehemently:

"They'recowardly,treacherous,meanthings!"

"Allthat,yes,Iwouldagree."

"Andyouwouldn'teverbelievewhatwassaidinone,wouldyou?"

"Thatisaverydifficultquestion,"saidPoirotgravely.

"Iwouldn't.Iwouldn'tbelieveanythingofthatkind."

Sheaddedvehemently:

"Iknowwhyyou'redownhere.Anditisn'ttrue,Itellyou,itisn'ttrue."

Sheturnedsharplyandwalkedaway.

HerculePoirotraisedhiseyebrowsinaninterestedfashion.

"Andnowwhat?"hedemandedofhimself."AmIbeingtakenupthegardenwalk?Oristhisthebirdof
adifferentcolour?"

Itwasall,hefelt,veryconfusing.

MrsRendellprofessedtobelievethathewasdownhereforareasonotherthanthatofinquiringinto
MrsMcGinty'sdeath.Shehadsuggestedthatthatwasonlyapretext.

Didshereallybelievethat?Orwasshe,ashehadjustsaidtohimself,leadinghimupthegardenwalk?

Whathadanonymouslettersgottodowithit?

WasMrsRendelltheoriginalofthephotographthatMrsUpwardhadsaidshehad"seenrecently"?

Inotherwords,wasMrsRendellLilyGamboll?LilyGamboll,arehabilitatedmemberofsociety,had
beenlastheardofinEire.HadDrRendellmetandmarriedhiswifethere,inignoranceofherhistory?
LilyGambollhadbeentrainedasastenographer.Herpathandthedoctor'smighteasilyhavecrossed.

Poirotshookhisheadandsighed.

Itwasallperfectlypossible.Buthehadtobesure.

Achillywindsprangupsuddenlyandthesunwentin.

Poirotshiveredandretracedhisstepstothehouse.

Yes,hehadtobesure.Ifhecouldfindtheactualweaponofthemurder-

Andatthatmoment,withastrangefeelingofcertainty-hesawit.

II

Afterwardshewonderedwhether,subconsciously,hehadseenandnoteditmuchearlier.Ithadstood
there,presumably,eversincehehadcometoLongMeadows...

Thereonthelitteredtopofthebookcasenearthewindow.

Hethought:"WhydidInevernoticethatbefore?"

Hepickeditup,weigheditinhishands,examinedit,balancedit,raisedittostrike-

Maureen came in through the door with her usual rush, two dogs accompanying her. Her voice, light
andfriendly,said:

"Hullo,areyouplayingwiththesugarcutter?"

"Isthatwhatitis?Asugarcutter?"

"Yes.Asugarcutter-orasugarhammer-Idon'tknowwhatexactlyistherightterm.It'sratherfun,
isn'tit?Sochildishwiththelittlebirdontop."

Poirotturnedtheimplementcarefullyinhishands.Madeofmuchornamentedbrass,itwasshapedlike
anadze,heavy,withasharpcuttingedge.Itwasstuddedhereandtherewithcolouredstones,paleblue
andred.Ontopofitwasafrivolouslittlebirdwithturquoiseeye.

"Lovelythingforkillinganyone,wouldn'titbe?"saidMaureenconversationally.

Shetookitfromhimandaimedamurderousblowonapointinspace.

"Frightfullyeasy,"shesaid."What'sthatbitintheIdyllsoftheKing?'"Mark'sway,"hesaid,andclove
himtothebrain.'Ishouldthinkyoucouldcleaveanyonetothebrainwiththisallright,don'tyou?"

Poirotlookedather.Herfreckledfacewassereneandcheerful.

Shesaid:

"I'vetoldJohnniewhat's,comingtohimifIgetfedupwithhim.Icallitthewife'sbestfriend!"

Shelaughed,putthesugarhammerdownandturnedtowardsthedoor.

"What did I come in here for?" she mused. "I can't remember... Bother! I'd better go and see if that
puddingneedsmorewaterinthesaucepan."

Poirot'svoicestoppedherbeforeshegottothedoor.

"YoubroughtthisbackwithyoufromIndia,perhaps?"

"Ohno,"saidMaureen."IgotitattheB.andB.atChristmas."

"B.andB.?"Poirotwaspuzzled.

"BringandBuy,"explainedMaureenglibly."AttheVicarage.Youbringthingsyoudon'twant,andyou
buy something. Something not too frightful if you can find it. Of course there's practically never
anythingyoureallywant.Igotthisandthatcoffeepot.Ilikethecoffeepot'snoseandIlikedthelittle
birdonthehammer."

Thecoffeepotwasasmalloneofbeatencopper.Ithadabigcurvingspoutthatstruckafamiliarnoteto
Poirot.

"IthinktheycomefromBaghdad,"saidMaureen."AtleastIthinkthat'swhattheWetherbyssaid.Orit
mayhavebeenPersia."

"ItwasfromtheWetherbys'house,then,thatthesecame?"

"Yea.They'vegotamostfrightfullotofjunk.Imustgo.Thatpudding."

Shewentout.Thedoorbanged.Poirotpickedupthesugarcutteragainandtookittothewindow.

Onthecuttingedgewerefaint,veryfaint,discolourations.

Poirotnoddedhishead.

Hehesitatedforamoment,thenhecarriedthesugarhammeroutoftheroomanduptohisbedroom.
There he packed it carefully in a box, did the whole thing up neatly in paper and string, and going
downstairsagain,leftthehouse.

He did not think that anyone would notice the disappearance of the sugar cutter. It was not a tidy
household.

III

AtLaburnums,collaborationwaspursuingitsdifficultcourse.

"But I really don't feel it's right making him a vegetarian, darling," Robin was objecting. "Too faddy.
Anddefinitelynotglamorous."

"I can't help it," said Mrs Oliver obstinately. "He's always been a vegetarian. He takes round a little
machineforgratingrawcarrotsandturnips."

"But,Ariadne,precious,why?"

"HowdoIknow?"saidMrsOlivercrossly."HowdoIknowwhyIeverthoughtoftherevoltingman?I
musthavebeenmad!WhyaFinnwhenIknownothingaboutFinland?Whyavegetarian?Whyallthe
idioticmannerismshe'sgot?Thesethingsjusthappen.Youtrysomething-andpeopleseemtolikeit-
andthenyougoon-andbeforeyouknowwhereyouare,you'vegotsomeonelikethatmaddeningSven
Hjersontiedtoyouforlife.Andpeopleevenwriteandsayhowfondyoumustbeofhim.Fondofhim?
IfImetthatbony,gangling,vegetable-eatingFinninreallife,I'ddoabettermurderthananyI'veever
invented."

RobinUpwardgazedatherwithreverence.

"Youknow,Ariadne,thatmightberatheramarvelousidea.ArealSvenHjerson-andyoumurderhim.
YoumightmakeaSwanSongbookofit-tobepublishedafteryourdeath."

"No fear! "said Mrs Oliver. "What about the money? Any money to be made out of murders I want
now."

"Yes.Yes.ThereIcouldn'tagreewithyoumore."

Theharassedplaywrightstrodeupanddown.

"This Ingrid creature is getting rather tiresome," he said. "And after the cellar scene which is really
goingtobemarvelous,Idon'tquiteseehowwe'regoingtopreventthenextscenefrombeingratheran
anticlimax."

MrsOliverwassilent.Scenes,shefelt,wereRobinUpward'sheadache.

Robinshotadissatisfiedglanceather.

Thatmorning,inoneofherfrequentchangesofmood,MrsOliverhaddislikedherwindsweptcoiffure.
Withabrushdippedinwatershehadplasteredhergreylocksclosetoherskull.Withherhighforehead,
hermassiveglasses,andhersternair,shewasremindingRobinmoreandmoreofaschoolteacherwho
had awed his early youth. He found it more and more difficult to address her as darling, and even
flinchedat"Ariadne."

Hesaidfretfully:

"Youknow,Idon'tfeelabitinthemoodtoday.Allthatginyesterday,perhaps.Let'sscrapworkandgo
intothequestionofcasting.IfwecangetDenisCallory,ofcourseitwillbetoomarvelous,buthe'stied
upinfilmsatthemoment.AndJeanBellewsforIngridwouldbejustright-andshewantstoplayit
whichissonice.Eric-asIsay,I'vehadabrainwaveforEric.We'llgoovertotheLittleReptonight,
shallwe?Andyou'lltellmewhatyouthinkofCecilforthepart."

MrsOliveragreedhopefullytothisprojectandRobinwentofftotelephone.

"There,"hesaidreturning."That'sallfixed."

IV

Thefinemorninghadnotliveduptoitspromise.Cloudshadgatheredandthedaywasoppressivewith
athreatofrain.AsPoirotwalkedthroughthedenseshrubberiestothefrontdoorofHunter'sClose,he
decidedthathewouldnotliketoliveinthishollowvalleyatthefootofthehill.Thehouseitselfwas
closedinbytreesanditswallssuffocatedinivy.Itneeded,hethought,thewoodman'saxe.

(Theaxe.Thesugarcutter?)

Herangthebellandaftergettingnoresponse,rangitagain.

ItwasDeirdreHendersonwhoopenedthedoortohim.Sheseemedsurprised.

"Oh,"shesaid,"it'syou."

"MayIcomeinandspeaktoyou?"

"I-well,yes,Isupposeso."

She led him into the small dark sitting-room where he had waited before. On the mantelpiece he
recognisedthebigbrotherofthesmallcoffeepotonMaureen'sshelf.Itsvasthookednoseseemedto
dominatethesmallWesternroomwithahintofEasternferocity.

"I'mafraid,"saidDeirdreinanapologetictone,"thatwe'reratherupsettoday.Ourhelp,theGermangirl
-she'sgoing.She'sonlybeenhereamonth.Actuallyitseemsshejusttookthisposttogetovertothis
countrybecausetherewassomeoneshewantedtomarry.Andnowthey'vefixeditup,andshe'sgoing
straightofftonight."

Poirotclickedhistongue.

"Mostinconsiderate."

"It is, isn't it? My stepfather says it isn't legal. But even if it isn't legal, if she just goes off and gets
married,Idon'tseewhatonecandoaboutit.Weshouldn'tevenhaveknownshewasgoingifIhadn't
foundherpackingherclothes.Shewouldjusthavewalkedoutofthehousewithoutaword."

"Itis,alas,notanageofconsideration."

"No,"saidDeirdredully."Isupposeit'snot."

Sherubbedherforeheadwiththebackofherhand.

"I'mtired,"shesaid."I'mverytired."

"Yes,"saidPoirotgently."Ithinkyoumaybeverytired."

"Whatwasityouwanted,M.Poirot?"

"Iwantedtoaskyouaboutasugarhammer."

"Asugarhammer?"

Herfacewasblank,uncomprehending.

"An instrument of brass, with a bird on it, and inlaid with blue and red and green stone." Poirot
enunciatedthedescriptioncarefully.

"Ohyes,Iknow."

Hervoiceshowednointerestoranimation.

"Iunderstanditcamefromthishouse?"

"Yes.MymotherboughtitinthebazaaratBaghdad.It'soneofthosethingswetooktotheVicarage,
sale."

"TheBringandBuysale,thatisright?"

"Yes.Wehavealotofthemhere.It'sdifficulttogetpeopletogivemoney,butthere'susuallysomething
youcanrakeupandsend."

"Soitwashere,inthishouse,untilChristmas,andthenyousentittotheBringandBuysale?Isthat
right?"

Deirdrefrowned.

"NottheChristmasBringandBuy.Itwastheonebefore.TheHarvestFestivalone."

"TheHarvestFestival-thatwouldbe-when?October?September?"

"TheendofSeptember."

Itwasveryquietinthelittleroom.Poirotlookedatthegirlandshelookedbackathim.Herfacewas
mild, expressionless, uninterested. Behind the blank wall of her apathy, he tried to guess what was
goingon.Nothing,perhaps.Perhapsshewas,asshehadsaid,justtired...

Hesaid,quietly,urgently:

"YouarequitesureitwastheHarvestFestivalSale?NottheChristmasone?"

"Quitesure."

Hereyesweresteady,unblinking.

HerculePoirotwaited.Hecontinuedtowait...

Butwhathewaswaitingfordidnotcome.

Hesaidformally:

"Imustnotkeepyouanylonger,mademoiselle."

Shewentwithhimtothefrontdoor.

Presentlyhewaswalkingdownthedriveagain.

Twodivergentstatements-statementsthatcouldnotpossiblybereconciled.

Whowasright?MaureenSummerhayesorDeirdreHenderson?

If the sugar cutter had been used as he believed it had been used, the point was vital. The Harvest
Festival had been the end of September. Between then and Christmas, on November 22nd, Mrs
McGintyhadbeenkilled.Whosepropertyhadthesugarcutterbeenatthattime?

Hewenttothepostoffice.MrsSweetimanwasalwayshelpfulandshedidherbest.She'dbeentoboth
sales,shesaid.Shealwayswent.Youpickedupmanyanicebitthere.Shehelped,too,toarrangethings
beforehand.Thoughmostpeoplebroughtthingswiththemanddidn'tsendthembeforehand.

A brass hammer, rather like an axe, with coloured stones and a little bird? No, she couldn't rightly
remember.Therewassuchalotofthings,andsomuchconfusionandsomethingssnatchedupatonce.
Well, perhaps she did remember something like that - priced at five shillings it had been, and with a
coppercoffeepot,butthepothadgotaholeinthebottom-youcouldn'tuseit,onlyforornament.But
she couldn't remember when it was - some time ago. Might have been Christmas, might have been
before.Shehadn'tbeennoticing...

SheacceptedPoirot'sparcel.Registered?Yes.

She copied down the address; he noticed just a sharp flicker of interest in her keen black eyes as she
handedhimthereceipt.

HerculePoirotwalkedslowlyupthehill,wonderingtohimself.

Of the two, Maureen Summerhayes, scatterbrained, cheerful, inaccurate, was the more likely to be
wrong.HarvestorChristmas,itwouldbeallonetoher.

DeirdreHenderson,slow,awkward,wasfarmorelikelytobeaccurateinheridentificationoftimesand
dates.

Yetthereremainedthatirkingquestion.

Why, after his questions, hadn't she asked him why he wanted to know? Surely a natural, an almost
inevitable,question?

ButDeirdreHendersonhadn'taskedit.

Chapter15

"Someonerangyouup,"calledMaureenfromthekitchenasPoirotenteredthehouse.

"Rangmeup?Whowasthat?"

Hewasslightlysurprised.

"Don'tknow.ButIjottedthenumberdownonmyrationbook."

"Thankyou,Madame"

He went into the dining-room and over to the desk. Amongst the litter of papers he found the ration
booklyingnearthetelephoneandthewords-Kilchester350.

Raisingthereceiverofthetelephone,hedialledthenumber.

Immediatelyawoman'svoicesaid:

"Breather&Scuttle."

Poirotmadeaquickguess.

"CanIspeaktoMissMaudeWilliams?"

Therewasamoment'sintervalandthenacontraltovoicesaid:

"MissWilliamsspeaking."

"ThisisHerculePoirot.Ithinkyourangme."

"Yes-yes,Idid.It'saboutthepropertyyouwereaskingmeabouttheotherday."

"The property?" For a moment Poirot was puzzled. Then he realised that Maude's conversation was
beingoverheard.Probablyshehadtelephonedhimbeforewhenshealoneintheoffice.

"Iunderstandyou,Ithink.ItistheaffairofJamesBentleyandMrsMcGinty'smurder?"

"That'sright.Canwedoanythinginthematterforyou?"

"Youwanttohelp.Youarenotprivatewhereyouare?"

"That'sright."

"Iunderstand.Listencarefully.YoureallywanttohelpJamesBentley?"

"Yes."

"Wouldyouresignyourpresentpost?"

Therewasnohesitation.

"Yes."

"Wouldyoubewillingtotakeadomesticpost?Possiblywithnotverycongenialpeople."

"Yes."

"Couldyougetawayatonce?Bytomorrow,forinstance?"

"Ohyes,M.Poirot.Ithinkthatcouldbemanaged."

"YouunderstandwhatIwantyoutodo.Youwouldbeadomestichelp-tolivein.Youcancook?"

Afaintamusementtingedthevoice.

"Verywell."

"BonDieu,whatararity!Nowlisten,IamcomingintoKilchesteratonce.Iwillmeetyouinthesame
caféwhereImetyoubefore,atlunchtime."

"Anadmirableyoungwoman,"hereflected."Quick-witted,knowsherownmind-perhaps,even,she
cancook..."

With some difficulty he disinterred the local telephone directory from under a treatise on pigkeeping
andlookeduptheWetherbys'number.

ThevoicethatansweredhimwasthatofMrsWetherby.

"'Allo'?'Allo?ItisM.Poirot-youremember,Madame-"

"Idon'tthinkI-"

"MrHerculePoirot."

"Ohyes-ofcourse-doforgiveme.Ratheradomesticupsettoday-"

"ItisforthatreasonexactlyIrangyouup.Iamdesolatedtolearnofyourdifficulties."

"Soungrateful-theseforeigngirls.Herfarepaidoverhere,andeverything.Idosohateingratitude."

"Yes,yes.Idoindeedsympathise.Itismonstrous-thatiswhyIhastentotellyouthatIhave,perhaps,
asolution.BythemerestchanceIknowofayoungwomanwantingadomesticpost.Not,Ifear,fully
trained."

"Oh,there'snosuchthingtrainingnowadays.Willshecook-somanyofthemwon'tcook."

"Yes-yes-shecooks.ShallIthensendhertoyou-atleastontrial?HernameisMaudeWilliams."

"Oh,pleasedo,M.Poirot.It'smostkindofyou.Anythingwouldbebetterthannothing.Myhusbandis
soparticularandgetssoannoyedwithdearDeirdrewhenthehouseholddoesn'tgosmoothly.Onecan't
expectmentounderstandhowdifficulteverythingisnowadays-I-"

There was an interruption. Mrs Wetherby spoke to someone entering the room, and though she had
placedherhandoverthereceiverPoirotcouldhearherslightlymuffledwords.

"It'sthatlittledetectiveman-knowsofsomeonetocomeintoreplaceFrieda.No,notforeign-English,
thankgoodness.Verykindofhim,really,heseemsquiteconcernedaboutme.Oh,darling,don'tmake
objections.Whatdoesitmatter?YouknowtheabsurdwayRogergoeson.Well,Ithinkit'sverykind-
andIdon'tsupposeshe'stooawful."

Theasidesover,MrsWetherbyspokewiththeutmostgraciousness.

"Thankyouverymuch,M.Poirot.Wearemostgrateful."

Poirotreplacedthereceiverandglancedathiswatch

Hewenttothekitchen.

"Madame,Ishallnotbeintolunch.IhavetogotoKilchester."

"Thank goodness," said Maureen. "I didn't get to that pudding in time. It had boiled dry. I think it's
really all right - just a little scorched perhaps. In case it tasted rather nasty I thought I would open a

bottleofthoseraspberriesIputuplastsummer.Theyseemtohaveabitofmouldontopbuttheysay
nowadaysthatthatdoesn'tmatter.It'sreallyrathergoodforyou-practicallypenicillin."

Poirot left the house, glad that scorched pudding and near-penicillin were not to be his portion today.
Better - far better - eat macaroni and custard and plums at the Blue Cat than the improvisations of
MaureenSummerhayes.

II

AtLaburnumsalittlefrictionhadarisen.

"Ofcourse,Robin,youneverseemtorememberanythingwhenyouareworkingonaplay."

Robinwascontrite.

"Madre,Iammostterriblysorry.I'dforgottenallaboutitsbeingJanet'snightout."

"Itdoesn'tmatteratall,"saidMrsUpwardcoldly.

"Ofcourseitmatters.I'llringuptheRepandtellthemwe'llgotomorrownightinstead."

"You'lldonothingofthesort.You'vearrangedtogotonightandyou'llgo."

"Butreally-"

"That'ssettled."

"ShallIaskJanettogooutanothernight?"

"Certainlynot.Shehatestohaveherplansdisarranged."

"I'msureshewouldn'treallymind.NotifIputittoher-"

"You'lldonothingofthesort,Robin.Pleasedon'tgoupsettingJanet.Anddon'tgoonaboutit.Idon't
caretofeelI'matiresomeoldwomanspoilingotherpeople'spleasure."

"Madre-sweetest-"

"That'senough-yougoandenjoyyourselves.IknowwhoI'llasktokeepmecompany."

"Who?"

"That'smysecret,"saidMrsUpward,hergoodhumourrestored."Nowstopfussing,Robin."

"I'llringupShelaghRendell-"

"I'lldomyownringingup,thankyou.It'sallsettled.Makethecoffeebeforeyougo,andleaveitbyme
inthepercolatorreadytoswitchon.Oh,andyoumightaswellputoutanextracup-incaseIhavea
visitor."

Chapter16

SittingatlunchintheBlueCat,PoirotfinishedoutlininghisinstructionstoMaudeWilliams.

"Soyouunderstandwhatitisyouhavetolookfor?"

MaudeWilliamsnodded.

"Youhavearrangedmatterswithyouroffice?"

Shelaughed.

"MyAuntie'sdangerouslyill!Isentmyselfatelegram."

"Good.Ihaveonemorethingtosay.Somewhere,inthatvillage,wehaveamurdereratlarge.Thatis

notaverysafethingtohave."

"Warningme?"

"Yes."

"Icantakecareofmyself,"saidMaudeWilliams.

"That,"saidHerculePoirot,"mightbeclassedundertheheadingofFamousLastWords."

Shelaughedagain,afrankamusedlaugh.Oneortwoheadsatneartablesturnedroundtolookather.

Poirotfoundhimselfappraisinghercarefully.Astrong,confidentyoungwoman,fullofvitality,keyed
upandeagertoattemptadangeroustask.Why?HethoughtagainofJamesBentley,hisgentledefeated
voice,hislifelessapathy.

Naturewasindeedcuriousandinteresting.

Maudesaid:

"You'reaskingmetodoit,aren'tyou?Whysuddenlytrytoputmeoff?"

"Becauseifoneoffersamission,onemustbeexactaboutwhatitinvolves."

"Idon'tthinkI'minanydanger,"saidMaudeconfidently.

"Idonotthinksoatthemoment.YouareunknowninBroadhinny?"

Maudeconsidered.

"Ye-es.Yes,Ishouldsayso."

"Youhavebeenthere?"

"Onceortwice-forthefirm,ofcourse-onlyoncerecently-thatwasaboutfivemonthsago."

"Whodidyousee?Wheredidyougo?"

"I went to see an old lady - Mrs Carstairs - or Carlile - I can't remember her name for sure. She was
buyingasmallpropertynearhere,andIwentovertoseeherwithsomepapersandsomequeriesanda
surveyor'sreportwhichwe'dgotforher.ShewasstayingatthatGuestHousesortofplacewhereyou
are."

"LongMeadows?"

"Thatwasit.Uncomfortable-lookinghousewithalotofdogs."

Poirotnodded.

"DidyouseeMrsSummerhayes,orMajorSummerhayes?"

"IsawMrsSummerhayes,Isupposeitwas.Shetookmeuptothebedroom.Theoldpussywasinbed."

"WouldMrsSummerhayesrememberyou?"

"Don'tsupposeso.Evenifshedid,itwouldn'tmatter,wouldit?Afterall,onechangesone'sjobquite
oftenthesedays.ButIdon'tsupposesheevenlookedatme.Hersortdon't."

TherewasafaintbitternessinMaudeWilliams'voice.

"DidyouseeanyoneelseinBroadhinny?"

Maudesaidratherawkwardly:

"Well,IsawMrBentley."

"Ah,yousawMrBentley.Byaccident."

Maudewriggledalittleinherchair.

"No,asamatteroffact,I'dsenthimapostcard.TellinghimIwascomingthatday.Askedhimifhe'd
meetmeasamatteroffact.Notthattherewasanywheretogo.Deadlittlehole.Nocaféorcinemaor
anything.Asamatteroffactwejusttalkedinthebusstop.WhileIwaswaitingformybusback."

"ThatwasbeforethedeathofMrsMcGinty?"

"Oh yes. But not much before, though. Because it was only a few days later that it was all in the
newspapers."

"DidMrBentleyspeaktoyouatallofhislandlady?"

"Idon'tthinkso."

"AndyouspoketonooneelseinBroadhinny?"

"Well-onlyMrRobinUpward.I'veheardhimtalkonthewireless.Isawhimcomingoutofhiscottage
andIrecognisedhimfromhispicturesandIdidaskhimforhisautograph."

"Andhegaveityou?"

"Ohyes,hewaseversoniceaboutit.Ihadn'tmybookwithme,butI'dgotanoddsheetofnotepaper,
andhewhippedouthisfountainpenandwroteitatonce."

"DoyouknowanyoftheotherpeopleinBroadhinnybysight?"

"Well, I know the Carpenters, of course. They're in Kilchester a lot. Lovely car they've got, and she
wearslovelyclothes.SheopenedaBazaaraboutamonthago.Theysayhe'sgoingtobeournextM.P."

Poirotnodded. Then hetook from hispocket the envelope thathe always carriedabout with him. He

spreadthefourphotographsonthetable.

"Doyourecogniseanyof-what'sthematter?"

"ItwasMrScuttle.Justgoingoutofthedoor.Ihopehedidn'tseeyouwithme.Itmightseemabitodd.
Peoplearetalkingaboutyou,youknow.Sayingyou'vebeensentoverfromParis-fromtheSooretayor
somenamelikethat."

"IamBelgian,notFrench,butnomatter."

"What's this about these photographs?" She bent over, studying them closely. "Rather on the old-
fashionedside,aren'tthey?"

"Theoldestisthirtyyearsago."

"Awfullysilly,oldfashionedclotheslook.Makesthewomenlooksuchfools."

"Haveyouseenanyofthembefore?"

"D'youmeandoIrecogniseanyofthewomen,ordoyoumeanhaveIseenthepictures?"

"Either."

"I'veanideaI'veseenthatone."HerfingerrestedagainstJaniceCourtlandinherclochehat."Insome
paperorother,butIcan'trememberwhen.Thatkidlooksabitfamiliar,too.ButIcan'trememberwhen
Isawthem;sometimeago."

"AllthosephotographsappearedintheSundayCompanionontheSundaybeforeMrsMcGintydied."

Maudelookedathimsharply.

"Andthey'vegot,somethingtodowithit?That'swhyyouwantmeto-"

Shedidnotfinishthesentence.

"Yes,"saidHerculePoirot."Thatiswhy."

He took something else from his pocket and showed it to her. It was the cutting from the Sunday
Companion.

"Youhadbetterreadthat,"hesaid.

Shereaditcarefully.Herbrightgoldenheadbentovertheflimsybitofnewsprint.

Thenshelookedup.

"Sothat'swhotheyare?Andreadingthishasgivenyouideas?"

"Youcouldnotexpressitmorejustly."

"But all the same I don't see -" She was silent a moment, thinking. Poirot did not speak. However
pleasedhemightbewithhisownideas,hewasalwaysreadytohearotherpeople'sideastoo.

"YouthinkoneorotherofthesepeopleisinBroadhinny?"

"Itmightbe,mightitnot?"

"Of course. Anyone may be anywhere..." She went on, placing her finger on Eva Kane's pretty
simperingface:"She'dbequiteoldnow-aboutMrsUpward'sage."

"Aboutthat."

"WhatIwasthinkingwas-thesortofwomanshewas-theremustbeseveralpeoplewho'dhaveitin
forher."

"Thatisapointofview,"saidPoirotslowly."Yes,itisapointofview."Headded:"Yourememberthe

Craigcase?"

"Whodoesn't?"saidMaudeWilliams."Why,he'sinMadameTussaud's!Iwasonlyakidatthetime,
butthenewspapersarealwaysbringinghimupandcomparingthecasewithothercases.Idon'tsuppose
itwilleverbeforgotten,doyou?"

Poirotraisedhisheadsharply.

Hewonderedwhatbroughtthatsuddennoteofbitternessintohervoice.

Chapter17

Feelingcompletelybewildered,MrsOliverwasendeavouringtocowerinthecornerofaveryminute
theatrical dressing-room. Not being the figure to cower, she only succeeded in bulging. Bright young
men,removinggreasepaintwithtowels,surroundedherandatintervalspressedwarmbeeruponher.

Mrs Upward, her good humour completely restored, had speeded their departure with good wishes.
Robinhadbeenassiduousinmakingallarrangementsforhercomfortbeforedeparture,runningbacka
coupleoftimesaftertheywereinthecartoseethatallwasasitshouldbe.

Onthelastoccasionhecamebackgrinning.

"Madrewasjustringingoffonthetelephone,andthewickedoldthingstillwon'ttellmewhoshewas
ringingup.ButIbetIknow."

"Iknow,too,"saidMrsOliver.

"Well,whodoyousay?"

"HerculePoirot."

"Yes,that'smyguess,too.She'sgoingtopumphim.Madredoeslikehavingherlittlesecrets,doesn't
she? Now darling, about the play tonight. It's very important that you tell me honestly just what you
thinkofCecil-andwhetherhe'syourideaofEric..."

Needlesstosay,CecilLeechhadnotbeenatallMrsOliver'sideaofEric.Nobody,indeed,couldhave
been more unlike. The play itself she had enjoyed, but the ordeal of "going round afterwards" was
fraughtwithitsusualterrors.

Robin,ofcourse,wasinhiselement.HehadCecil(atleastMrsOliversupposeditwasCecil)pinned
againstthewallandwastalkingnineteentothedozen.MrsOliverhadbeenterrifiedofCecilandmuch
preferredsomebodycalledMichaelwhowastalkingtoherkindlyatthemoment.Michael,atleast,did
not expect her to reciprocate, in fact Michael seemed to prefer a monologue. Somebody called Peter
madeoccasionalincursionsontheconversation,butonthewholeitresolveditselfintoathinstreamof
faintlyamusingmalicebyMichael.

"-toosweetofRobin,"hewassaying."We'vebeenurginghimtocomeandseetheshow.Butofcourse
he's completely under that terrible woman's thumb, isn't he? Dancing attendance. And really Robin is
brilliant, don't you think so? Quite quite brilliant. He shouldn't be sacrificed on a Matriarchal altar.
Womencanbeawful,can'tthey?YouknowwhatshedidtopoorAlexRoscoff?Alloverhimfornearly
a year and then discovered that he wasn't a Russian émigré at all. Of course he had been telling her
someverytallstories,butquiteamusing,andweallknewitwasn'ttrue,butafterallwhyshouldone
care?-andthenwhenshefoundouthewasjustalittleEastEndtailor'sson,shedroppedhim,mydear.
Imean,Idohateasnob,don'tyou?ReallyAlexwasthankfultogetawayfromher.Hesaidshecould
be quite frightening sometimes - a little queer in the head, he thought. Her rages! Robin dear, we're
talking about your wonderful Madre. Such a shame she couldn't come tonight. But it's marvelous to
haveMrsOliver.Allthosedeliciousmurders."

AnelderlymanwithadeepbassvoicegraspedMrsOliver'shandandhelditinahot,stickygrasp.

"HowcanIeverthankyou?"hesaidintonesofdeepmelancholy."You'vesavedmylife-savedmylife
manyatime."

Then they all came out into the fresh night air and went across to the Pony's Head, where there were
moredrinksandmorestageconversation.

By the time Mrs Oliver and Robin were driving homewards, Mrs Oliver was quite exhausted. She
leanedbackandclosedhereyes.Robin,ontheotherhand,talkedwithoutstopping.

"-andyoudothinkthatmightbeanidea,don'tyou?"hefinallyended.

"What?"

MrsOliverjerkedopenhereyes.

She had been lost in a nostalgic dream of home. Walls covered with exotic birds and foliage. A deal
table,hertypewriter,blackcoffee,appleseverywhere...Whatbliss,gloriousandsolitarybliss!Whata
mistake for an author to emerge from her secret fastness. Authors were shy, unsociable creatures,
atoningfortheirlackofsocialaptitudebyinventingtheirowncompanionsandconversations.

"I'mafraidyou'retired,"saidRobin.

"Notreally.ThetruthisI'mnotverygoodwithpeople."

"Iadorepeople,don'tyou?"saidRobinhappily.

"No,"saidMrsOliverfirmly.

"Butyoumust.Lookatallthepeopleinyourbooks."

"That'sdifferent.Ithinktreesaremuchnicerthanpeople,morerestful."

"Ineedpeople,"saidRobin,statinganobviousfact."Theystimulateme."

HedrewupatthegateofLaburnums.

"Yougoin,"hesaid."I'llputthecaraway."

MrsOliverextractedherselfwiththeusualdifficultyandwalkedupthepath.

"Thedoor'snotlocked,"Robincalled.

Itwasn't.MrsOliverpusheditopenandentered.Therewerenolightson,andthatstruckherasrather
ungracious on her hostess's part. Or was it perhaps economy? Rich people were so often economical.
Therewasasmellofscentinthehall,somethingratherexoticandexpensive.ForamomentMrsOliver
wonderedifshewereintherighthouse,thenshefoundthelightswitchandpresseditdown.

Thelightsprangupinthelowoak-beamedsquarehall.Thedoorintothesitting-roomwasajarandshe
caughtsightofafootandleg.MrsUpward,afterall,hadnotgonetobed.Shemusthavefallenasleep
inherchair,andsincenolightswereon,shemusthavebeenasleepalongtime.

MrsOliverwenttothedoorandswitchedonthelightsinthesitting-room.

"We'reback-"shebeganandthenstopped.

Herhandwentuptoherthroat.Shefeltatightknotthere,adesiretoscreamthatshecouldnotputinto
operation.

Hervoicecameoutinawhisper:

"Robin-Robin..."

Itwassometimebeforesheheardhimcomingupthepath,whistling,andthensheturnedquicklyand
rantomeethiminthehall.

"Don'tgointhere-don'tgoin.Yourmother-she-she'sdead-Ithink-she'sbeenkilled..."

Chapter18

"Quiteaneatbitofwork,"saidSuperintendentSpence.

Hisredcountryman'sfacewasangry.HelookedacrosstowhereHerculePoirotsatgravelylistening.

"Neatandugly,"hesaid."Shewasstrangled,"hewenton."Silkscarf-oneofherownsilkscarves,one
she'dbeenwearingthatday-justpassedaroundtheneckandtheendscrossed-andpulled.Neat,quick,
efficient. The thugs did it that way in India. The victim doesn't struggle or cry out - pressure on the
carotidartery."

"Specialknowledge?"

"Could be - need not. If you were thinking of doing it, you could read up the subject. There's no
practicaldifficulty.Especiallywiththevictimquiteunsuspicious-andshewasunsuspicious"

Poirotnodded.

"Someonesheknew."

"Yes.They'dhadcoffeetogether-acupoppositeherandoneoppositetheguest.Printshadbeenwiped
offtheguest'scupverycarefullybutlipstickismoredifficult-therewerestillfainttracesoflipstick."

"Awoman,then?"

"Youexpectedawoman,didn'tyou?"

"Ohyes.Yes,thatwasindicated."

Spencewenton:

"MrsUpwardrecognisedoneofthosephotographs-thephotographofLilyGamboll.Soittiesupwith
theMcGintymurder."

"Yes,"saidPoirot."IttiesupwiththeMcGintymurder."

HerememberedMrsUpward'sslightlyamusedexpressionasshehadsaid:

"MrsMcGinty'sdead.Howdidshedie?

Stickingherneckout,justlikeI."

Spencewasgoingon:

"Shetookanopportunitythatseemedgoodtoher-hersonandMrsOliverweregoingofftothetheatre.
Sherangupthepersonconcernedandaskedthatpersontocomeandseeher.Isthathowyoufigureit

out?Shewasplayingdetective."

"Somethinglikethat.Curiosity.Shekeptherknowledgetoherself,butshewantedtofindoutmore.She
didn'tintheleastrealisewhatshewasdoingmightbedangerous."

Poirotsighed."Somanypeoplethinkofmurderasagame.Itisnotagame.Itoldherso.Butshewould
notlisten."

"No,weknowthat.Well,thatfitsinfairlywell.WhenyoungRobinstartedoffwithMrsOliverandran
back into the house his mother had just finished telephoning to someone. She wouldn't' say who to.
Playeditmysterious.RobinandMrsOliverthoughtitmightbeyou."

"Iwishithadbeen,"saidHerculePoirot."Youhavenoideatowhomitwasthatshetelephoned?"

"Nonewhatever.It'sallautomaticroundhere,youknow."

"Themaidcouldn'thelpyouinanyway?"

"No.Shecameinabouthalf-pastten-shehasakeytothebackdoor.Shewentstraightintoherown
room which leads off the kitchen and went to bed. The house was dark and she assumed that Mrs
Upwardhadgonetobedandthattheothershadnotyetreturned."

Spenceadded:

"She'sdeafandprettycrotchetyaswell.Takesverylittlenoticeofwhatgoeson-andIimaginedoesas
littleworkasshecanwithasmuchgrumblingaspossible."

"Notreallyanoldfaithful?"

"Oh!no-she'sonlybeenwiththeUpwardsacoupleofyears."

Aconstableputhisheadroundthedoor.

"There's a young lady to see you, sir," he said. "Says there's something perhaps you ought to know.

Aboutlastnight."

"Aboutlastnight?Sendherin."

DeirdreHendersoncamein.Shelookedpaleandstrainedand,asusual,ratherawkward.

"I thought perhaps I'd better come," she said. "If I'm interrupting you or anything," she added
apologetically.

"Notatall,MissHenderson."

Spenceroseandpushedforwardachair.Shesatdownonitsquarelyinanungainlyschoolgirlishsortof
way.

"Somethingaboutlastnight?"saidSpenceencouragingly."AboutMrsUpward,youmean?"

"Yes, it's true, isn't it, that she was murdered? I mean the post said so and the baker. Mother said of
courseitcouldn'tbetrue-"Shestopped.

"I'mafraidyourmotherisn'tquiterightthere.It'strueenough.Now,youwantedtomakea-totellus
something?"

Deirdrenodded.

"Yes,"shesaid."Yousee,Iwasthere."

A difference crept into Spence's manner. It was, perhaps, even more gentle, but an official hardness
underlayit.

"Youwerethere,"hesaid."AtLaburnums.Atwhattime?"

"Idon'tknowexactly,"saidDeirdre."Betweenhalf-pasteightandnine,Isuppose.Probablynearlynine.
Afterdinner,anyway.Yousee,shetelephonedtome."

"MrsUpwardtelephonedtoyou?"

"Yes.ShesaidRobinandMrsOliverweregoingtothetheatreinCullenquayandthatshewouldbeall
aloneandwouldIcomealongandhavecoffeewithher."

"Andyouwent?"

"Yes."

"Andyou-hadcoffeewithher?"

Deirdreshookherhead.

"No,Igotthere-andIknocked.Buttherewasn'tanyanswer.SoIopenedthedoorandwentintothe
hall. It was quite dark and I'd seen from outside that there was no light in the sitting-room. So I was
puzzled.Icalled'MrUpward'onceortwicebuttherewasnoanswer.SoIthoughttheremustbesome
mistake."

"Whatmistakedidyouthinktherecouldhavebeen?"

"Ithoughtperhapsshe'dgonetothetheatrewiththemafterall."

"Withoutlettingyouknow?"

"Thatdidseemqueer."

"Youcouldn'tthinkofanyotherexplanation?"

"Well, I thought perhaps Frieda might have bungled the original message. She does get things wrong
sometimes.She'saforeigner.Shewasexcitedherselflastnightbecauseshewasleaving."

"Whatdidyoudo,MissHenderson?"

"Ijustwentaway."

"Backhome?"

"Yes-thatis,Iwentforalittlewalkfirst.Itwasquitefine."

Spencewassilentforamomentortwo,lookingather.Hewaslooking,Poirotnoticed,athermouth.

Presentlyherousedhimselfandsaidbriskly:

"Well,thankyou,MissHenderson.Youwerequiterighttocomeandtellusthis.We'remuchobligedto
you."

Hegotupandshookhandswithher.

"IthoughtIoughtto,"saidDeirdre."Motherdidn'twantmeto."

"Didn'tshenow?"

"ButIthoughtI'dbetter."

"Quiteright."

Heshowedheroutandcameback.

Hesatdown,drummedonthetableandlookedatPoirot.

"Nolipstick,"hesaid."Oristhatonlythismorning?"

"No,itisnotonlythismorning.Sheneverusesit."

"That'sodd,nowadays,isn'tit?"

"Sheisratheranoddkindofgirl-undeveloped."

"Andnoscent,either,asfarasIcouldsmell.ThatMrsOliversaystherewasadistinctsmellofscent-
expensivescent,shesays-inthehouselastnight.RobinUpwardconfirmsthat.Itwasn'tanyscenthis
motheruses."

"Thisgirlwouldnotusescent,Ithink,"saidPoirot.

"Ishouldn'tthinksoeither,"saidSpence."Looksratherlikethehockeycaptainfromanold-fashioned
girls'school-butshemustbeeverybitofthirty,Ishouldsay."

"Quitethat."

"Arresteddevelopment,wouldyousay?"

Poirotconsidered.Thenhesaiditwasnotquitesosimpleasthat.

"Itdoesn'tfit,"aidSpencefrowning."Nolipstick,noscent.Andsinceshe'sgotaperfectlygoodmother,
and Lily Gamboll's mother was done in in a drunken brawl in Cardiff when Lily Gamboll was nine
yearsold,Idon'tseehowshecanbeLilyGamboll.But-MrsUpwardtelephonedhertocometherelast
night-youcan'tgetawayfromthat."Herubbedhisnose."Itisn'tstraightforwardgoing."

"Whataboutthemedicalevidence?"

"Notmuchhelpthere.Allthepolicesurgeonwillsaydefinitelyisthatshewasprobablydeadbyhalf-
pastnine."

"SoshemayhavebeendeadwhenDeirdreHendersoncametoLaburnums?"

"Probablywasifthegirlissayingthetruth.Eithersheisspeakingthetruth-orelseshe'sadeepone.
Motherdidn'twanthertocometous,shesaid.Anythingthere?"

Poirotconsidered.

"Not particularly. It is what Mother would say. She is the type, you comprehend, that avoids
unpleasantness."

Spencesighed.

"So we've got Deirdre Henderson - on the spot. Or else someone who came there before Deirdre
Henderson.Awoman.Awomanwhouseslipstickandexpensivescent."

Poirotmurmured:"Youwillinquire-"

Spencebrokein.

"I'minquiring!Justtactfullyforthemoment.Wedon'twanttoalarmanyone.WhatwasEveCarpenter
doinglastnight?WhatwasShelaghRendelldoinglastnight?Tentoonetheywerejustsittingathome.
Carpenter,Iknow,hadapoliticalmeeting."

"Eve,"saidPoirotthoughtfully."Thefashionsinnameschange,dotheynot?Hardlyever,nowadays,do
youhearofanEva.Ithasgoneout.ButEve,itispopular."

"Shecanaffordexpensivescent,"saidSpence,pursuinghisowntrainofthought.

Hesighed.

"We've got to get at more of her background. It's so convenient to be a war widow. You can turn up
anywhere looking pathetic and mourning some brave young airman. Nobody likes to ask you
questions."

Heturnedtoanothersubject.

"Thatsugarhammerorwhat-notyousentalong-Ithinkyou'vehitthebull's-eye.It'stheweaponused
in the McGinty murder. Doctor agrees it s exactly suitable for the type of blow. And there has been
blood on it. It was washed, of course - but they don't realise nowadays that a microscopic amount of
bloodwillgiveareactionwiththelatestreagents.Yes,it'shumanbloodallright.Andthatagaintiesup
withtheWetherbysandtheHendersongirl.Ordoesn'tit?"

"Deirdre Henderson was quite definite that the sugar hammer went to the Harvest Festival Bring and
Buy."

"AndMrsSummerhayeswasequallypositiveitwastheChristmasone?"

"MrsSummerhayesisneverpositiveaboutanything,"saidPoirotgloomily."Sheisacharmingperson,
butshehasnoorderormethodinhercomposition.ButIwilltellyouthis-IwhohavelivedatLong
Meadows-thedoorsandthewindowstheyarealwaysopen.Anyone-anyoneatall,couldcomeand
take something away and later come and put it back and neither Major Summerhayes nor Mrs
Summerhayeswouldnotice.Ifitisnotthereoneday,shethinksthatherhusbandhastakenittojointa
rabbitortochopwood-andhe,hewouldthinkshehadtakenittochopdogmeat.Inthathousenobody
usestherightimplements-theyjustseizewhatisathandandleaveitinthewrongplace.Andnobody
remembersanything.IfIweretolivelikethatIshouldbeinacontinualstateofanxiety-butthey-they
donotseemtomind."

Spencesighed.

"Well-there'sonegoodthingaboutallthis-theywon'texecuteJamesBentleyuntilthisbusinessisall
clearedup.We'veforwardedalettertotheHomeSecretary'aoffice.Itgivesuswhatwe'vebeenwanting
-time."

"Ithink,"saidPoirot,"thatIwouldliketoseeBentleyagain-nowthatweknowalittlemore."

II

TherewaslittlechangeinJamesBentley.Hewas,perhaps,ratherthinner,hishandsweremorerestless-
otherwisehewasthesamequiet,hopelesscreature.

Hercule Poirot spoke carefully. There had been some fresh evidence. The police were re-opening the
case.Therewas,therefore,hope...

ButJamesBentleywasnotattractedbyhope.

Hesaid:

"Itwillbeallnogood.Whatmorecantheyfindout?"

"Yourfriends,"saidHerculePoirot,"areworkingveryhard."

"Myfriends?"Heshruggedhisshoulders."Ihavenofriends."

"Youshouldnotsaythat.Youhave,attheveryleast,twofriends."

"Twofriends?Ishouldliketoknowwhotheyare."

Histoneexpressednowishfortheinformation,merelyawearydisbelief.

"First,thereisSuperintendentSpence-"

"Spence?Spence?Thepolicesuperintendentwhoworkedupthecaseagainstme?That'salmostfunny."

"Itisnotfunny.Itisfortunate.Spenceisaveryshrewdandconscientiouspoliceofficer.Helikestobe
verysurethathehasgottherightman."

"He'ssureenoughofthat."

"Oddlyenough,heisnot.Thatiswhy,asIsaid,heisyourfriend."

"Thatkindofafriend!"

HerculePoirotwaited.EvenJamesBentley,hethought,musthavesomehumanattributes.EvenJames
Bentleycouldnotbecompletelydevoidofordinaryhumancuriosity.

Andtrueenough,presentlyJamesBentleysaid:

"Well,who'stheother?"

"TheotherisMaudeWilliams."

Bentleydidnotappeartoreact.

"MaudeWilliams?Whoisshe?"

"SheworkedintheofficeofBreather&Scuttle."

"Oh-thatMissWilliams."

"Précisément,thatMissWilliams."

"Butwhat'sitgottodowithher?"

ThereweremomentswhenHerculePoirotfoundthepersonalityofJamesBentleysoirritatingthathe
heartilywishedthathecouldbelieveBentleyguiltyofMrsMcGinty'smurder.Unfortunatelythemore
Bentleyannoyedhim,themorehecameroundtoSpence'swayofthinking.Hefounditmoreandmore
difficulttoenvisageBentley'smurderinganybody.JamesBentley'sattitudetomurderwouldhavebeen,
Poirot felt sure, that it wouldn't be much good anyway. If cockiness, as Spence insisted, was a
characteristicofmurderers,Bentleywascertainlynomurderer.

Containinghimself,Poirotaid:

"MissWilliamsinterestsherselfintheaffair.Sheisconvincedyouareinnocent."

"Idon'tseewhatshecanknowaboutit."

"Sheknowsyou."

JamesBentleyblinked.Hesaid,grudgingly:

"Isupposeshedoes,inaway,butnotwell."

"Youworkedtogetherintheoffice,didyounot?Youhad,sometimes,mealstogether?"

"Well-yes-onceortwice.TheBlueCatcafé,veryconvenient-justacrossthestreet."

"Didyounevergoforwalkswithher?"

"Asamatteroffactwedid,once.Wewalkeduponthedowns."

HerculePoirotexploded.

"Ma foi, is it a crime that I seek to drag from you? To keep the company with a pretty girl, is it not
natural?Isitnotenjoyable?Canyounotbepleasedwithyourselfaboutit?"

"Idon'tseewhy,"saidJamesBentley.

"Atyourageitisnaturalandrighttoenjoythecompanyofgirls."

"Idon'tknowmanygirls."

"Çasevoit!Butyoushouldbeashamedofthat,notsmug!YouknewMissWilliams.Youworkedwith
herandtalkedwithherandsometimeshadmealswithher,andoncewentforawalkonthedowns.And
whenImentionher,youdonotevenrememberhername!"

JamesBentleyflushed.

"Well,yousee-I'veneverhadmuchtodowithgirls.Andsheisn'tquitewhatyou'dcallalady,isshe?
Ohverynice-andallthat-butIcan'thelpfeelingthatMotherwouldhavethoughthercommon."

"Itiswhatyouthinkthatmatters."

AgainJamesBentleyflushed.

"Herhair,"hesaid."Andthekindofclothesshewears-Mother,ofcourse,wasold-fashioned."

Hebrokeoff.

"ButyoufoundMissWilliams-whatshallIsay-sympathetic?"

"She was always very kind," said James Bentley slowly. "But she didn't - really - understand. Her
motherdiedwhenshewasonlyachild,yousee."

"And then you lost your job," said Poirot. "You couldn't get another. Miss Williams met you once at
Broadhinny,Iunderstand?"

JamesBentleylookeddistressed.

"Yes-yes.Shewascomingoverthereonbusinessandshesentmeapost-card.Askedmetomeether.I
can'tthinkwhy.Itisn'tasifIknewheratallwell."

"Butyoudidmeether?"

"Yes.Ididn'twanttoberude."

"Andyoutookhertothepicturesorameal?"

JamesBentleylookedscandalised.

"Ohno.Nothingofthatkind.We-er-justtalkedwhilstshewaswaitingforherbus."

"Ah,howamusingthatmusthavebeenforthepoorgirl!"

JamesBentleysaidsharply:

"Ihadn'tgotanymoney.Youmustrememberthat.Ihadn'tanymoneyatall."

"Ofcourse.ItwasafewdaysbeforeMrsMcGintywaskilled,wasn'tit?"

JamesBentleynodded.Hesaidunexpectedly:

"Yes,itwasontheMonday.ShewaskilledonWednesday."

"I'mgoingtoaskyousomethingelse,MrBentley.MrsMcGintytooktheSundayCompanion."

"Yes,shedid."

"DidyoueverseeherSundayCompanion?"

"Sheusedtoofferitsometimes,butIdidn'toftenaccept.Motherdidn'tcareforthatkindofpaper."

"Soyoudidn'tseethatweeksSundayCompanion?"

"No."

"AndMrsMcGintydidn'tspeakaboutit,oraboutanythinginit?"

"Ohyes,shedid,"saidJamesBentleyunexpectedly."Shewasfullofit!"

"Ahlala.Soshewasfullofit.Andwhatdidshesay?Becareful.Thisisimportant."

"I don't remember very well now. It was all about some old murder case. Craig, I think it was - no,
perhapsitwasn'tCraig.Anyway,shesaidsomebodyconnectedwiththecasewaslivinginBroadhinny
now.Fullofit,shewas.Icouldn'tseewhyitmatteredtoher."

"Didshesaywhoitwas-inBroadhinny?"

JamesBentleysaidvaguely:

"Ithinkitwasthatwomanwhosesonwritesplays."

"Shementionedherbyname?"

"No-I-reallyit'ssolongago-"

"Iimploreyou-trytothink.Youwanttobefreeagain,doyounot?"

"Free?"Bentleysoundedsurprised.

"Yes,free."

"I-yes-IsupposeIdo-"

"Thenthink!WhatdidMrsMcGintysay?"

"Well-somethinglike-'sopleasedwithherselfassheisandsoproud.Notsomuchtobeproudofif
all's known.' And then, 'You'd never think it was the same woman to look at the photograph.' But of
courseithadbeentakenyearsago."

"ButwhatmadeyousurethatitwasMrsUpwardofwhomshewasspeaking?"

"Ireallydon'tknow...Ijustformedtheimpression.ShehadbeenspeakingofMrsUpward-andthenI
lostinterestanddidn'tlisten,andafterwards-well,nowIcometothinkofit,Idon'treallyknowwho
shewasspeakingabout.Shetalkedalot,youknow."

Poirotsighed.

Hesaid:"IdonotthinkmyselfthatitwasMrsUpwardofwhomshespoke.Ithinkitwassomebody
else.Itispreposteroustoreflectthatifyouarehangeditwillbebecauseyoudonotpayproperattention
tothepeoplewithwhomyouconverse...DidMrsMcGintyspeakmuchtoyouofthehouseswhereshe
worked,ortheladiesofthosehouses?"

"Yes,inaway-butit'snogoodaskingme.Youdon'tseemtorealise,M.Poirot,thatIhadmyownlife
tothinkofatthattime.Iwasinveryseriousanxiety."

"Not in so much serious anxiety as you are now! Did Mrs McGinty speak of Mrs Carpenter - Mrs
Selkirkshewasthen-orofMrsRendell?"

"Carpenter has that new house at the top of the hill and a big car, hasn't he? He was engaged to Mrs
Selkirk - Mrs McGinty was always very down on Mrs Selkirk. I don't know why. 'Jumped up,' that's
whatsheusedtocallher.Idon'tknowwhatshemeantbyit."

"AndtheRendells?"

"He'sthedoctor,isn'the?Idon'trememberhersayinganythingparticularaboutthem."

"AndtheWetherbys?"

"Idorememberwhatshesaidaboutthem."JamesBentleylookedpleasedwithhimself."'Nopatience
withherfussesandherfancies,'that'swhatshesaid.Andabouthim,'Neveraword,goodorbad,outof
him.'"Hepaused."Shesaid-itwasanunhappyhouse."

HerculePoirotlookedup.ForasecondJamesBentley'svoicehadheldsomethingthatPoirothadnot
heard in it before. He was not repeating obediently what he could recall. His mind, for a very brief
space,hadmovedoutofitsapathy.JamesBentleywasthinkingofHunter'sClose,ofthelifethatwent
onthere,ofwhetherornotitwasanunhappyhouse.JamesBentleywasthinkingobjectively.

Poirotsaidsoftly:

"Youknewthem?Themother?Thefather?Thedaughter?"

"Notreally.Itwasthedog.ASealyham.Itgotcaughtinatrap.Shecouldn'tgetitundone.Ihelpedher."

TherewasagainsomethingnewinBentley'stone."Ihelpedher,"hehadsaid,andinthosewordswasa
faintechoofpride.

PoirotrememberedwhatMrsOliverhadtoldhimofherconversationwithDeirdreHenderson.

Hesaidgently:

"Youtalkedtogether?"

"Yes.She-hermothersufferedalot,shetoldme.Shewasveryfondofhermother."

"Andyoutoldheraboutyours?"

"Yes,"saidJamesBentleysimply.

Poirotsaidnothing.Hewaited.

"Lifeisverycruel,"saidJamesBentley."Veryunfair.Somepeopleneverseemtogetanyhappiness."

"Itispossible,"saidHerculePoirot.

"Idon'tthinkshehadhadmuch.MissWetherby."

"Henderson."

"Ohyes.Shetoldmeshehadastepfather."

"Deirdre Henderson," said Poirot. "Deirdre of the Sorrows. A pretty name - but not a pretty girl, I
understand?"

JamesBentleyflushed.

"Ithought,"hesaid,"shewasrathergood-looking..."

Chapter19

"Nowjustyoulistentome,"saidMrsSweetiman.

Edna sniffed. She had been listening to Mrs Sweetiman for some time. It had been a hopeless

conversation,goingroundincircles.MrsSweetimanhadsaidthesamethingsseveraltimes,varyingthe
phraseology a little, but even that not much. Edna had sniffed and occasionally blubbered and had
reiterated her own two contributions to the discussion: first, that she couldn't ever! Second, that Dad
wouldskinheralive,hewould.

"That's as may be," said Mrs Sweetiman, "but murder's murder, and what you saw you saw, and you
can'tgetawayfromit."

Ednasniffed.

"Andwhatyoudidoughttodo-"

MrsSweetimanbrokeoffandattendedtoMrsWetherby,whohadcomeinforsomeknittingpinsand
anotherounceofwool.

"Haven'tseenyouaboutforsometime,m'am,"saidMrsSweetimanbrightly.

"No,I'vebeenveryfarfromwelllately,"saidMrsWetherby."Myheart,youknow."Shesigheddeeply.
"Ihavetolieupagreatdeal."

"Iheardasyou'vegotsomehelpatlast,"saidMrsSweetiman."You'llwantdarkneedlesforthislight
wool."

"Yes.Quitecapableasfarasshegoes,andcooksnotatallbadly.Buthermanners!Andherappearance!
Dyedhairandthemostunsuitabletightjumpers."

"Ah,"saidMrsSweetiman."Girlsaren'ttrainedpropertoservicenowadays.Mymother,shestartedat
thirteenandshegotupataquartertofiveeverymorning.Headhousemaidshewaswhenshefinished,
andthreemaidsunderher.Andshetrainedthemproper,too.Butthere'snoneofthatnowadays-girls
aren'ttrainednowadays,they'rejusteducated,likeEdna."

Both women looked at Edna, who leant against the post office counter, sniffing and sucking a
peppermint,andlookingparticularlyvacant.Asanexampleofeducation,shehardlydidtheeducational
systemcredit.

"TerribleaboutMrsUpward,wasn'tit?"continuedMrsSweetimanconversationally,asMrsWetherby

sortedthroughvariouscolouredneedles.

"Dreadful,"saidMrsWetherby."Theyhardlydaredtellme.Andwhentheydid,Ihadthemostfrightful
palpitations.I'msosensitive."

"Shock to all of us, it was," said Mrs Sweetiman. "As for young Mr Upward, he took on something
terrible. Had her hands full with him, the authoress lady did, until the doctor came and give him a
seddytifforsomething.He'sgoneuptoLongMeadowsnowasapayingguest,felthecouldn'tstayin
thecottage-andIdon'tknowasIblamehim.JanetGroom,she'sgonehometohernieceandthepolice
have got the key. The lady what writes the murder books has gone back to London, but she'll come
downfortheinquest."

Mrs Sweetiman imparted all this information with relish. She prided herself on being well informed.
MrsWetherby,whosedesireforknittingneedleshadperhapsbeenpromptedbyadesiretoknowwhat
wasgoingon,paidforherpurchase.

"It'smostupsetting,"shesaid."Itmakesthewholevillagesodangerous.Theremustbeamaniacabout.
WhenIthinkthatmyowndeardaughterwasoutthatnight,thatsheherselfmighthavebeenattacked,
perhapskilled."MrsWetherbyclosedbotheyesandswayedonherfeet.MrsSweetimanwatchedher
withinterest,butwithoutalarm.MrsWetherbyopenedhereyesagain,andsaidwithdignity:

"Thisplaceshouldbepatrolled.Noyoungpeopleshouldgoaboutafterdark.Andalldoorsshouldbe
locked and bolted. You know that up at Long Meadows, Mrs Summerhayes never locks any of her
doors.Notevenatnight.Sheleavesthebackdoorandthedrawing-roomwindowopensothatthedogs
andcatscangetinandout.Imyselfconsiderthatisabsolutemadness,butshesaysthey'vealwaysdone
itandthatifburglarswanttogetin,theyalwayscan."

"Reckontherewouldn'tbemuchforaburglartotakeupatLongMeadows,"saidMrsSweetiman.

MrsWetherbyshookherheadsadlyanddepartedwithherpurchase.

MrsSweetimanandEdnaresumedtheirargument.

"It'snogoodyoursettingyourselfuptoknowbest,"saidMrsSweetiman."Right'srightandmurder's
murder.Tellthetruthandshamethedevil.That'swhatIsay."

"Dadwouldskinmealive,hewould,forsure,"saidEdna.

"I'dtalktoyourDad,"saidMrsSweetiman.

"Icouldn'tever,"saidEdna.

"Mrs Upward's dead," said Mrs Sweetiman. "And you saw something the police don't know about.
You're employed in the post office, aren't you? You're a Government servant. You've got to do your
duty.You'vegottogoalongtoBertHayling-"

Edna'ssobsburstoutanew.

"NottoBert,Icouldn't.HowevercouldIgotoBert?It'dbeallovertheplace."

MrsSweetimansaidratherhesitantly:

"There'sthatforeigngentleman."

"Notaforeigner,Icouldn't.Notaforeigner."

"No,maybeyou'rerightthere."

Acardrewupoutsidethepostofficewithasquealingofbrakes.

MrsSweetiman'sfacelitup.

"That'sMajorSummerhayes,thatis.Youtellitalltohimandhe'lladviseyouwhattodo."

"Icouldn'tever,"saidEdna,butwithlessconviction.

JohnnieSummerhayescameintothepostoffice,staggeringundertheburdenofthreecardboardboxes.

"Goodmorning,MrsSweetiman,"hesaidcheerfully."Hopethesearen'toverweight?"

Mrs Sweetiman attended to the parcels in her official capacity. As Summerhayes was licking the
stamps,shespoke.

"Excuseme,sir,I'dlikeyouradviceaboutsomething."

"Yes,MrsSweetiman?"

"Seeingasyoubelonghere,sir,andwillknowbestwhattodo."

Summerhayes nodded. He was always curiously touched by the lingering feudal spirit of English
villages. The villagers knew little of him personally, but because his father and his grandfather and
many great-great-grandfathers had lived at Long Meadows, they regarded it as natural that he should
adviseanddirectwhenaskedsotodo.

"It'saboutEdnahere,"saidMrsSweetiman.

Ednasniffed.

Johnnie Summerhayes looked at Edna doubtfully. Never, he thought, had he seen a more
unprepossessing girl. Exactly like a skinned rabbit. Seemed half-witted too. Surely she couldn't be in
whatwasknownofficiallyas"trouble."Butno,MrsSweetimanwouldnothavecometohimforadvice
inthatcase.

"Well,"hesaidkindly,"what'sthedifficulty?"

"It'saboutthemurder,sir.Thenightofthemurder.Ednasawsomething."

JohnnieSummerhayestransferredhisquickdarkgazefromEdnatoMrsSweetimanandbackagainto
Edna.

"Whatdidyousee,Edna?"hesaid.

Ednabegantosob.MrsSweetimantookover.

"Ofcoursewe'vebeenhearingthisandthat.Some'srumourandsome'strue.Butit'ssaiddefiniteasthat
therewerealadytherethatnightwhodrankcoffeewithMrsUpward.That'sso,isn'tit,sir?"

"Yes,Ibelieveso."

"Iknowasthat'strue,becausewehaditfromBertHayling."

Albert Hayling was the local constable whom Summerhayes knew well. A slow-speaking man with a
senseofhisownimportance.

"Isee,"saidSummerhayes.

"Buttheydon'tknow,dothey,whotheladyis?Well,Ednaheresawher."

JohnnieSummerhayeslookedatEdna.Hepursedhislipsasthoughtowhistle.

"Yousawher,didyou,Edna?Goingin-orcomingout?"

"Goingin,"saidEdna.Afaintsenseofimportanceloosenedhertongue."AcrosstheroadIwas,under
thetrees.Justbytheturnofthelanewhereit'sdark.Isawher.Shewentinatthegateanduptothedoor
andstoodthereabit,andthen-thenshewentin."

JohnnieSummerhayes'browcleared.

"That'sallright,"hesaid."ItwasMissHenderson.Thepoliceknowallaboutthat.Shewentandtold
them."

Ednashookherhead.

"Itwasn'tMissHenderson,"shesaid.

"Itwasn't-thenwhowasit?"

"Idunno.Ididn'tseeherface.Hadherbacktome,shehad,goingupthepathandstandingthere.Butit
wasn'tMissHenderson."

"Buthowdoyouknowitwasn'tMissHendersonifyoudidn'tseeherface?"

"Becauseshehadfairhair.MissHenderson'sisdark."

JohnnieSummerhayeslookeddisbelieving.

"Itwasaverydarknight.You'dhardlybeabletoseethecolourofanyone'shair."

"ButIdid,though.Thatlightwasonovertheporch.Leftlikethat,itwas,becauseMrRobinandthe
detectiveladyhadgoneouttogethertothetheatre.Andshewasstandingrightunderit.Adarkcoatshe
hadon,andnohat,andherhairwasshiningfairascouldbe.Isawit."

Johnniegaveaslowwhistle.Hiseyeswereseriousnow.

"Whattimewasit?"heasked.

Ednasniffed.

"Idon'trightlyknow."

"Youknowaboutwhattime,"saidMrsSweetiman.

"Itwasn'tnineo'clock.I'dhaveheardthechurch.Anditwasafterhalf-pasteight."

"Betweenhalf-pasteightandnine.Howlongdidshestop?"

"Idunno,sir.ButIdidn'twaitnolonger.AndIdidn'thearnothing.Nogroansorcriesornothinglike
that."

Ednasoundedslightlyaggrieved.

Buttherewouldhavebeennogroansandnocries.JohnnieSummerhayesknewthat.Hesaidgravely:

"Well,there'sonlyonethingtobedone.Thepolicehavegottohearaboutthis."

Ednaburstintolongsnifflingsobs.

"Dad'llskinmealive,"shewhimpered."Hewill,forsure."

ShecastanimploringlookatMrsSweetimanandboltedintothebackroom.MrsSweetimantookover
withcompetence.

"It's like this, sir," she said in answer to Summerhayes' inquiring glance. "Edna's been behaving very
foolish like. Very strict her Dad is, maybe a bit over strict, but it's hard to say what's best nowadays.
There's a nice young fellow over to Cullavon and he and Edna have been going together nice and
steady,andherDadwasquitepleasedaboutit,butReghe'sontheslowside,andyouknowwhatgirls
are.Edna'stakenuplatelywithCharlieMasters."

"Masters?OneofFarmerCole'smen,isn'the?"

"That'sright,sir.Farmlabourer.Andamarriedmanwithtwochildren.Alwaysafterthegirls,heis,and
abadfellowineveryway.Ednahasn'tgotanysense,andherDad,heputastoptoit.Quiteright.So,
yousee,EdnawasgoingintoCullavonthatnighttogotothepictureswithReg-atleastthat'swhatshe
toldherDad.ButreallyshewentouttomeetthisMasters.Waitedforhim,shedid,attheturnofthe
lane where it seems they used to meet. Well, he didn't come. Maybe his wife kept him at home, or
maybehe'safteranothergirl,butthereitis.Ednawaitedbutatlastshegaveup.Butit'sawkwardfor
her, as you can see, explaining what she was doing there, when she ought to have taken the bus into
Cullavon."

Johnnie Summerhayes nodded. Suppressing an irrelevant feeling of wonder that the unprepossessing
Edna could have sufficient sex appeal to attract the attention of two men, he dealt with the practical
aspectofthesituation.

"Shedoesn'twanttogotoBertHaylingaboutit,"hesaidwithquickcomprehension.

"That'sright,sir."

Summerhayesreflectedrapidly.

"I'mafraidthepolicehavegottoknow,"hesaidgently.

"That'swhatItoldher,sir,"saidMrsSweetiman.

"Buttheywillprobablybequitetactfulabout-er-thecircumstances.Possiblyshemayn'thavetogive
evidence.Andwhatshetellsthem,they'llkeeptothemselves.IcouldringupSpenceandaskhimto
comeoverhere-no,betterstill,I'lltakeyoungEdnaintoKilchesterwithmeinmycar.Ifshegoesto
thepolicestationthere,nobodyhereneedknowanythingaboutit.I'lljustringthemupfirstandwarn
themwe'recoming."

Andso,afterabrieftelephonecall,thesniffingEdna,buttonedfirmlyintohercoatandencouragedbya
patonthebackfromMrsSweetiman,steppedintothestationwagonandwasdrivenrapidlyawayinthe
directionofKilchester.

Chapter20

HerculePoirotwasinSuperintendentSpence'sofficeinKilchester.Hewasleaningbackinachair,his
eyesclosedandthetipsofhisfingersjusttouchingeachotherinfrontofhim.

TheSuperintendentreceivedsomereports,gaveinstructionstoasergeant,andfinallylookedacrossat
theotherman.

"Gettingabrainwave,M.Poirot?"hedemanded.

"Ireflect,"saidPoirot."Ireview."

"Iforgottoaskyou.DidyougetanythingusefulfromJamesBentleywhenyousawhim?"

Poirotshookhishead.Hefrowned.

ItwasindeedofJamesBentleyhehadbeenthinking.

Itwasannoying,thoughtPoirotwithexasperation,thatonacasesuchasthiswherehehadofferedhis
serviceswithoutreward,solelyoutoffriendshipandrespectforanuprightpoliceofficer,thatthevictim
of circumstances should so lack any romantic appeal. A lovely young girl, now, bewildered and
innocent, or a fine upstanding young man, also bewildered, but whose "head is bloody but unbowed"
thoughtPoirot,whohadbeenreadingagooddealofEnglishpoetryinananthologylately.Instead,he
had James Bentley, a pathological case if there ever was one, a self-centred creature who had never
thoughtmuchofanyonebuthimself.Amanungratefulfortheeffortsthatwerebeingmadetosavehim
-almost,onemightsay,uninterestedinthem.

Really,thoughtPoirot,onemightaswelllethimbehangedsincehedoesnotseemtocare...

No,hewouldnotgoquiteasfarasthat.

SuperintendentSpence'svoicebrokeintothesereflections.

"Our interview," said Poirot, "was, if I might say so, singularly unproductive. Anything useful that
Bentleymighthaverememberedhedidnotremember-whathedidrememberissovagueanduncertain
thatonecannotbuilduponit.ButatanyrateitseemsfairlycertainthatMrsMcGintywasexcitedby
thearticleintheSundayCompanionandspokeaboutittoBentleywithspecialreferenceto'someone
connectedwiththecase,'livinginBroadhinny."

"Withwhichcase?"askedSuperintendentSpencesharply.

"Ourfriendcouldnotbesure,"saidPoirot."Hesaid,ratherdoubtfully,theCraigcase-buttheCraig
casebeingtheonlyonehehadeverheardof,itwould,presumably,betheonlyonehecouldremember.
But the 'someone' was a woman. He even quoted Mrs McGinty's words. Somebody who had 'not so
muchtobeproudofifall'sknown.'"

"Proud?"

"Maisoui,"Poirotnoddedhisappreciation."Asuggestiveword,isitnot?"

"Noclueastowhotheproudladywas?"

"BentleysuggestedMrsUpward-butasfarasIcanseefornorealreason!"

Spenceshookhishead.

"Probably because she was a proud masterful sort of woman - outstandingly so, I should say. But it
couldn't have been Mrs Upward, because Mrs Upward's dead, and dead for the same reason as Mrs
McGintydied-becausesherecognisedaphotograph."

Poirotsaidsadly:"Iwarnedher."

Spencemurmuredirritably:

"LilyGamboll!Sofarasagegoes,thereareonlytwopossibilities,MrsRendellandMrsCarpenter.I
don'tcounttheHendersongirl-she'sgotabackground."

"Andtheothershavenot?"

Spencesighed.

"You know what things are nowadays. The war stirred up everyone and everything. The approved
schoolwhereLilyGambollwas,andallitsrecords,weredestroyedbyadirecthit.Thentakepeople.It's
thehardestthingintheworldtocheckonpeople.TakeBroadhinny-theonlypeopleinBroadhinnywe
know anything about are the Summerhayes family, who have been there for three hundred years, and
GuyCarpenter,who'soneoftheengineeringCarpenters.Alltheothersare-whatshallIsay-fluid?Dr
Rendell'sontheMedicalRegisterandweknowwherehetrainedandwherehe'spractised,butwedon't
know his home background. His wife came from near Dublin. Eve Selkirk, as she was before she
marriedGuyCarpenter,wasaprettyyoungwarwidow.Anyonecanbeaprettyyoungwarwidow.Take
theWetherbys-theyseemtohavefloatedroundtheworld,here,thereandeverywhere.Why?Istherea
reason?Didheembezzlefromabank?Ordidtheyoccasionascandal?Idon'tsaywecan'tdigupabout
people.Wecan-butittakestime.Thepeoplethemselveswon'thelpyou."

"Becausetheyhavesomethingtoconceal-butitneednotbemurder,"saidPoirot.

"Exactly.Itmaybetroublewiththelaw,oritmaybeahumbleorigin,oritmaybecommonorgarden
scandal. But whatever it is, they've taken a lot of pains to cover up - and that makes it difficult to
uncover."

"Butnotimpossible."

"Ohno.Notimpossible.Itjusttakestime.AsIsay,ifLilyGambollisinBroadhinny,she'seitherEve
CarpenterorShelaghRendell.I'vequestionedthem-justroutine-that'sthewayIputit.Theysaythey
werebothathome-alone.MrsCarpenterwasthewide-eyedinnocent,MrsRendellwasnervous-but
thenshe'sanervoustype,youcan'tgobythat."

"Yes,"saidPoirotthoughtfully."Sheisanervoustype."

He was thinking of Mrs Rendell in the garden at Long Meadows. Mrs Rendell had received an
anonymousletter,orsoshesaid.Hewondered,ashehadwonderedbefore,aboutthatstatement.

Spencewenton:

"Andwehavetobecareful-becauseevenifoneofthem'sguilty,theotherisinnocent."

"AndGuyCarpenterisaprospectiveMemberofParliamentandanimportantlocalfigure."

"Thatwouldn'thelphimifhewasguiltyofmurderoraccessorytoit,"saidSpencegrimly.

"Iknowthat.Butyouhave,haveyounot,tobesure?"

"That'sright·Anywayyou'llagree,won'tyou,thatitliesbetweenthetwoofthem?"

Poirotsighed.

"No-no-Iwouldnotsaythat.Thereareotherpossibilities."

"Suchas?"

Poirotwassilentforamoment,thenhesaidinadifferent,almostcasualtoneofvoice:

"Whydopeoplekeepphotographs?"

"Why?Goodnessknowswhydopeoplekeepallsortsofthings-junk-trash,bitsandpieces.Theydo-
that'sallthereistoit!"

"UptoapointIagreewithyou.Somepeoplekeepthings.Somepeoplethroweverythingawayassoon
as they have done with it. That, yes, it is a matter of temperament. But I speak now especially of
photographs.Whydopeoplekeep,inparticular,photographs?"

"AsIsay,becausetheyjustdon'tthrowthingsaway.Orelsebecauseitremindsthem-"

Poirotpouncedonthewords.

"Exactly.Itremindsthem.Nowagainweask-why?Whydoesawomankeepaphotographofherself
when young? And I say that the first reason is, essentially, vanity. She has been a pretty girl and she
keepsaphotographofherselftoremindherofwhataprettygirlshewas.Itencouragesherwhenher
mirrortellsherunpalatablethings.Shesays,perhaps,toafriend,'ThatwasmewhenIwaseighteen...'
andshesighs.Youagree?"

"Yes-yes,Ishouldsaythat'strueenough."

"ThenthatisreasonNo.1.Vanity.NowreasonNo.2.Sentiment."

"That'sthesamething?"

"No, no, not quite. Because this leads you to preserve not only your own photograph but that of
someone else. A picture of your married daughter - when she was a child sitting on a hearthrug with
tulleroundher."

"I'veseensomeofthose,"Spencegrinned.

"Yes. Very embarrassing to the subject sometimes, but mothers like to do it. And sons and daughters
oftenkeeppicturesoftheirmothers,especially,say,iftheirmotherdiedyoung.'Thiswasmymotheras
agirl.'"

"I'mbeginningtoseewhatyou'redrivingat,Poirot."

"Andthereis,possibly,athirdcategory.Notvanity,notsentiment,notlove-perhapshate-whatdoyou
say?"

"Hate?"

"Yes.Tokeepadesireforrevengealive.Someonewhohasinjuredyou-youmightkeepaphotograph
toremindyou,mightyounot?"

"Butsurelythatdoesn'tapplyinthiscase?"

"Doesitnot?"

"Whatareyouthinkingof?"

Poirotmurmured:

"Newspaperreportsareofteninaccurate.TheSundayCompanionstatedthatEvaKanewasemployed
bytheCraigsasanurserygoverness.Wasthatactuallythecase?"

"Yes,itwas.Butwe'reworkingontheassumptionthatit'sLilyGambollwe'relookingfor."

Poirotsatupsuddenlyverystraightinhischair.HewaggedanimperativeforefingeratSpence.

"Look. Look at the photograph of Lily Gamboll. She is not pretty - no! Frankly, with those teeth and
those spectacles she is hideously ugly. Then nobody has kept that photograph for the first of our
reasons.Nowomanwouldkeepthatphotooutofvanity.IfEveCarpenterorShelaghRendell,whoare
both good-looking women, especially Eve Carpenter, had this photograph of themselves, they would
tearitinpiecesquicklyincasesomebodyshouldseeit!"

"Well,thereissomethinginthat."

"SoreasonNo.1isout.Nowtakesentiment.DidanybodyloveLilyGambollatthatage?Thewhole

point of Lily Gamboll is that they did not. She was an unwanted and unloved child. The person who
likedherbestwasheraunt,andherauntdiedunderthechopper.Soitwasnotsentimentthatkeptthis
picture. And revenge? Nobody hated her either. Her murdered aunt was a lonely woman without a
husbandandwithnoclosefriends.Nobodyhadhateforthelittleslumchild-onlypity."

"Lookhere,M.Poirot,whatyou'resayingisthatnobodywouldhavekeptthatphoto."

"Exactly-thatistheresultofmyreflections."

"Butsomebodydid.BecauseMrsUpwardhadseenit."

"Hadshe?"

"Dashitall.Itwasyouwhotoldme.Shesaidsoherself."

"Yes,shesaidso,"saidPoirot."ButthelateMrsUpwardwas,insomeways,asecretivewoman.She
likedtomanagethingsherownway.Ishowedthephotographs,andsherecognisedoneofthem.But
then,forsomereason,shewantedtokeeptheidentificationtoherself.Shewanted,letussay,todeal
withacertainsituationinthewayshefancied.Andso,beingveryquick-witted,shedeliberatelypointed
tothewrongpicture.Therebykeepingherknowledgetoherself."

"Butwhy?"

"Because,asIsay,shewantedtoplayalonehand."

"Itwouldn'tbeblackmail?Shewasanextremelywealthywoman,youknow,widowofaNorthCountry
manufacturer."

"Ohno,notblackmail.Morelikelybeneficence.We'llsaythatshequitelikedthepersoninquestion,
and that she didn't want to give their secret away. But nevertheless she was curious. She intended to
have a private talk with that person. And whilst doing so, to make up her mind whether or not that
personhadhadanythingtodowiththedeathofMrsMcGinty.Somethinglikethat."

"Thenthatleavestheotherthreephotosin?"

"Precisely.MrsUpwardmeanttogetintouchwiththepersoninquestionatthefirstopportunity.That
camewhenhersonandMrsOliverwentovertotheRepertoryTheatreatCullenquay."

"AndshetelephonedtoDeirdreHenderson.ThatputsDeirdreHendersonrightbackinthepicture.And
hermother!"

SuperintendentSpenceshookhisheadsadlyatPoirot.

"Youdoliketomakeitdifficult,don'tyou,M.Poirot?"hesaid.

Chapter21

Mrs Wetherby walked back home from the post office with a gait surprisingly spry in one habitually
reportedtobeaninvalid.

Onlywhenshehadenteredthefrontdoordidsheoncemoreshufflefeeblyintothedrawing-roomand
collapseonthesofa.

Thebellwaswithinreachofherhandandsherangit.

Sincenothinghappenedsherangitagain,thistimekeepingherfingeronitforsometime.

InduecourseMaudeWilliamsappeared.Shewaswearingafloweredoverallandhadadusterinher
hand.

"Didyouring,madam?"

"Irangtwice.WhenIringIexpectsomeonetocomeatonce.Imightbedangerouslyill."

"I'msorry,madam.Iwasupstairs."

"Iknowyouwere.Youwereinmyroom.Iheardyouoverhead.Andyouwerepullingthedrawersin
andout.Ican'tthinkwhy.It'snopartofyourjobtogopryingintomythings."

"Iwasn'tprying.Iwasputtingsomeofthethingsyouleftlyingaboutawaytidily."

"Nonsense.Allyoupeoplesnoop.AndIwon'thaveit.I'mfeelingveryfaint.IsMissDeirdrein?"

"Shetookthedogforawalk."

"How stupid. She might know I would need her. Bring me an egg beaten up in milk and add a little
brandy.Thebrandyisonthesideboardinthedining-room."

"Thereareonlyjustthethreeeggsforbreakfasttomorrow."

"Thensomeonewillhavetogowithout.Hurry,willyou?Don'tstandtherelookingatme.Andyou're
wearingfartoomuchmake-up.Itisn'tsuitable."

TherewasabarkinthehallandDeirdreandherSealyhamcameinasMaudewentout.

"Iheardyourvoice,"saidDeirdrebreathlessly."Whathaveyoubeensayingtoher?"

"Nothing."

"Shelookedlikethunder."

"Iputherinherplace.Impertinentgirl."

"Oh,Mummydarling,mustyou?It'ssodifficulttogetanyone.Andshedoescookwell."

"Isupposeit'sofnoimportancethatshe'sinsolenttome!Ohwell,Ishan'tbewithyoumuchlonger."
MrsWetherbyrolleduphereyesandtooksomeflutteringbreaths."Iwalkedtoofar,"shemurmured.

"Yououghtn'ttohavegoneout,darling.Whydidn'tyoutellmeyouweregoing?"

"Ithoughtsomeairwoulddomegood.It'ssostuffy.Itdoesn'tmatter.Onedoesn'treallywanttolive-

notifone'sonlyatroubletopeople."

"You'renotatrouble,darling.I'ddiewithoutyou."

"You'reagoodgirl-butIcanseehowIwearyyouandgetonyournerves."

"Youdon't-youdon't,"saidDeirdrepassionately.

MrsWetherbysighedandlethereyelidsfall.

"I-can'ttalkmuch,"shemurmured."Imustjustliestill."

"I'llhurryupMaudewiththeeggnog."

Deirdreranoutoftheroom.Inherhurryshecaughtherelbowonatableandabronzegodbumpedto
theground.

"Soclumsy,"murmuredMrsWetherbytoherself,wincing.

ThedooropenedandMrWetherbycamein.Hestoodthereforamoment.MrsWetherbyopenedher
eyes.

"Oh,it'syou,Roger?"

"Iwonderedwhatallthenoisewasinhere.It'simpossibletoreadquietlyinthishouse."

"ItwasjustDeirdre,dear.Shecameinwiththedog."

MrWetherbystoopedandpickedupthebronzemonstrosityfromthefloor.

"SurelyDeirdre'soldenoughnottoknockthingsdownthewholetime."

"She'sjustratherawkward."

"Well,it'sabsurdtobeawkwardatherage.Andcan'tshekeepthatdogfrombarking?"

"I'llspeaktoher,Roger."

"If she makes her home here, she must consider our wishes and not behave as though the house
belongedtoher."

"Perhapsyou'dratherwewentaway,"murmuredMrsWetherby.Throughhalfclosedeyesshewatched
herhusband.

"No,ofcoursenot.Ofcoursenot.Naturallyherhomeiswithus.Ionlyaskforalittlemoregoodsense
andgoodmanners."Headded:"You'vebeenout,Edith?"

"Yes.Ijustwentdowntothepostoffice."

"NofreshnewsaboutpoorMrsUpward?"

"Thepolicestilldon'tknowwhoitwas."

"Theyseemtobequitehopeless.Anymotive?Whogetshermoney?"

"Theson,Isuppose."

"Yes-yes,thenitreallyseemsasthoughitmusthavebeenoneofthesetramps.Youshouldtellthisgirl
she'sgottobecarefulaboutkeepingthefrontdoorlocked.Andonlytoopenitonthechainwhenitgets
neardusk.Thesemenareverydaringandbrutalnowadays."

"NothingseemstohavebeentakenfromMrsUpward's."

"NotlikeMrsMcGinty,"saidMrsWetherby.

"MrsMcGinty?Oh!thecharwoman.What'sMrsMcGintygottodowithMrsUpward?"

"Shedidworkforher,Roger."

"Don'tbesilly,Edith."

MrsWetherbyclosedhereyesagain.AsMrWetherbywentoutoftheroomshesmiledtoherself.

SheopenedhereyeswithastarttofindMaudestandingoverher,holdingaglass.

"Youreggnog,madam,"saidMaude.

Hervoicewasloudandclear.Itechoedtooresonantlyinthedeadenedhouse.

MrsWetherbylookedupwithavaguefeelingofalarm.

Howtallandunbendingthegirlwas.ShestoodoverMrsWetherbylike-"likeafigureofdoom,"Mrs
Wetherbythoughttoherself-andthenwonderedwhysuchordinarywordshadcomeintoherhead.

Sheraisedherselfonherelbowandtooktheglass.

"Thankyou,Maude,"shesaid

Maudeturnedandwentoutoftheroom.

MrsWetherbystillfeltvaguelyupset.

Chapter22

HerculePoirottookahiredcarbacktoBroadhinny.

Hewastiredbecausehehadbeenthinking.Thinkingwasalwaysexhausting.Andhisthinkinghadnot

been entirely satisfactory. It was as though a pattern, perfectly visible, was woven into a piece of
materialandyet,althoughhewasholdingthepieceofmaterial,hecouldnotseewhatthepatternwas.

Butitwasallthere.Thatwasthepoint.Itwasallthere.Onlyitwasoneofthosepatterns,self-coloured
andsubtle,thatarenoteasytoperceive.

A little way out of Kilchester his car encountered the Summerhayes' station wagon coming in the
oppositedirection.Johnniewasdrivingandhehadapassenger.Poirothardlynoticedthem.Hewasstill
absorbedinthought.

When he got back to Long Meadows, he went into the drawing-room. He removed a colander full of
spinach from the most comfortable chair in the room and sat down. From overhead came the faint
drummingofatypewriter.ItwasRobinUpward,strugglingwithaplay.Threeversionshehadalready
tornup,sohetoldPoirot.Somehow,hecouldn'tconcentrate.

Robinmightfeelhismother'sdeathquitesincerely,butheremainedRobinUpward,chieflyinterested
inhimself.

"Madre,"hesaidsolemnly,"wouldhavewishedmetogoonwithmywork."

Hercule Poirot had heard many people say much the same thing. It was one of the most convenient
assumptions, this knowledge of what the dead would wish. The bereaved had never any doubt about
theirdearones'wishesandthosewishesusuallysquaredwiththeirowninclinations.

In this case it was probably true. Mrs Upward had had great faith in Robin's work and had been
extremelyproudofhim.

Poirotleanedbackandclosedhiseyes.

HethoughtofMrsUpward.HeconsideredwhatMrsUpwardhadreallybeenlike.Heremembereda
phrasethathehadonceheardusedbyapoliceofficer.

"We'lltakehimapartandseewhatmakeshimtick."

WhathadmadeMrsUpwardtick?

Therewasacrash,andMaureenSummerhayescamein.Herhairwasflappingmadly.

"Ican'tthinkwhat'shappenedtoJohnnie,"shesaid."Hejustwentdowntothepostofficewiththose
specialorders.Heoughttohavebeenbackhoursago.Iwanthimtofixthehenhousedoor."

Atruegentleman,Poirotfeared,wouldhavegallantlyofferedtofixthehenhousedoorhimself.Poirot
didnot.HewantedtogoonthinkingabouttwomurdersandaboutthecharacterofMrsUpward.

"AndIcan'tfindthatMinistryofAgricultureform,"continuedMaureen."I'velookedeverywhere."

"Thespinachisonthesofa,"Poirotofferedhelpfully.

Maureenwasnotworriedaboutspinach.

"Theformcamelastweek,"shemused."AndImusthaveputitsomewhere.PerhapsitwaswhenIwas
darningthatpulloverofJohnnie's."

Shesweptovertothebureauandstartedpullingoutthedrawers.Mostofthecontentsshesweptonto
thefloorruthlessly.ItwasagonytoHerculePoirottowatchher.

Suddenlysheutteredacryoftriumph.

"Gotit!"

Delightedlysherushedfromtheroom.

HerculePoirotsighedandresumedmeditation.

Toarrange,withorderandprecision-

Hefrowned.Theuntidyheapofobjectsonthefloorbythebureaudistractedhismind.Whatawayto
lookforthings!

Orderandmethod.Thatwasthething.Orderandmethod...

Thoughhehadturnedsidewaysinhischair,hecouldstillseetheconfusiononthefloor.Sewingthings,
apileofsocks,letters,knittingwool,magazines,sealingwax,photographs,apullover-

Itwasinsupportable!

Poirotrose,wentacrosstothebureauandwithquickdeftmovementsbegantoreturntheobjectstothe
opendrawers.

Thepullover,thesocks,theknittingwool.Then,inthenextdrawer,thesealingwax,thephotographs,
theletters-

Thetelephonerang.

Thesharpnessofthebellmadehimjump.

Hewentacrosstothetelephoneandliftedthereceiver.

"'Allo,'allo,'allo,"hesaid.

ThevoicethatspoketohimwasthevoiceofSuperintendentSpence.

"Ahit'syou,M.Poirot.JustthemanIwant."

Spence'svoicewasalmostunrecognisable.Averyworriedmanhadgivenplacetoaconfidentone.

"Filling me up with a lot of fandangle about the wrong photograph," he said with reproachful
indulgence."We'vegotsomenewevidence.GirlatthepostofficeinBroadhinny.MajorSummerhayes
justbroughtherin.Itseemsshewasstandingpracticallyoppositethecottagethatnightandshesawa
womangoin.Sometimeaftereight-thirtyandbeforenineo'clock.Anditwasn'tDeirdreHenderson.It
wasawomanwithfairhair.Thatputsusrightbackwherewewere-it'sdefinitelybetweenthetwoof
them-EveCarpenterandShelaghRendell.Theonlyquestionis-which?"

Poirotopenedhismouthbutdidnotspeak.Carefully,deliberately,hereplacedthereceiveronthestand.

Hestoodtherestaringunseeinglyinfrontofhim.

Thetelephonerangagain.

"'Allo!'Allo!'Allo!"

"CanIspeaktoM.Poirot,please?"

"HerculePoirotspeaking."

"Thoughtso.MaudeWilliamshere.Postofficeinaquarterofanhour?"

"Iwillbethere."

Hereplacedthereceiver.

Helookeddownathisfeet.Shouldhechangehisshoes?Hisfeetachedalittle.Ahwell-nomatter.

ResolutelyPoirotclappedonhishatandleftthehouse.

On his way down the hill he was hailed by one of Superintendent Spence's men just emerging from
Laburnums.

"Morning,M.Poirot."

Poirotrespondedpolitely.HenoticedthatSergeantFletcherwaslookingexcited.

"TheSupersentmeovertohaveathoroughcheckup,"heexplained."Youknow-anylittlethingwe
mighthavemissed.Neverknow,doyou?We'dbeenoverthedesk,ofcourse,buttheSupergottheidea
theremightbeasecretdrawer-musthavebeenreadingspystuff.Well,therewasn'tasecretdrawer.
But after that I got on to the books. Sometimes people slip a letter into a book they're reading. You

know?"

Poirotsaidthatheknew."Andyoufoundsomething?"heaskedpolitely.

"Not a letter or anything of that sort, no. But I found something interesting - at least I think it's
interesting.Lookhere."

Heupwrappedfromapieceofnewspaperanoldandratherdecrepitbook.

"In one of the bookshelves it was. Old book, published years ago. But look here." He opened it and
showedtheflyleaf.Pencilledacrossitwerethewords:EvelynHope.

"Interesting,don'tyouthink?That'sthename,ineaseyoudon'tremember-"

"ThenamethatEvaKanetookwhensheleftEngland.Idoremember,"saidPoirot.

"LooksasthoughwhenMrsMcGintyspottedoneofthosephotoshereinBroadhinny,itwasourMrs
Upward.Makesitkindofcomplicated,doesn'tit?"

"Itdoes,"saidPoirotwithfeeling."IcanassureyouthatwhenyougobacktoSuperintendentSpence
withthispieceofinformationhewillpullouthishairbytheroots-yes,assuredlybytheroots."

"Ihopeitwon'tbeasbadasthat,"saidSergeantFletcher.

Poirotdidnotreply.Hewentondownthehill.Hehadceasedtothink.Nothinganywheremadesense.

He went into the post office. Maude Williams was there looking at knitting patterns. Poirot did not
speaktoher.Hewenttothestampcounter.WhenMaudehadmadeherpurchase,MrsSweetimancame
overtohimandheboughtsomestamps.Maudewentoutoftheshop.

Mrs Sweetiman seemed preoccupied and not talkative. Poirot was able to follow Maude out fairly
quickly.Hecaughtherupashortdistancealongtheroadandfellintostepbesideher.

Mrs Sweetiman, looking out of the post office window, exclaimed to herself disapprovingly. "Those

foreigners!Allthesame,everymanjackof'em.Oldenoughtobehergrandfather,heis!"

II

"Ehbien,"saidPoirot,"youhavesomethingtotellme?"

"Idon'tknowthatit'simportant.TherewassomebodytryingtogetinatthewindowofMrsWetherby's
room."

"When?"

"This morning. She'd gone out, and the girl was out with the dog. Old frozen fish was shut up in his
studyasusual.I'dhavebeeninthekitchennormally-itfacestheotherwaylikethestudy-butactually
itseemedagoodopportunityto-youunderstand?"

Poirotnodded.

"SoInippedupstairsandintoHerAcidity'sbedroom.Therewasaladderagainstthewindowandaman
wasfumblingwiththewindowcatch.She'shadeverythinglockedandbarredsincethemurder.Nevera
bitoffreshair.Whenthemansawmehescuttleddownandmadeoff.Theladderwasthegardener's-
he'dbeencuttingbacktheivyandhadgonetohavehiselevenses."

"Whowastheman?Canyoudescribehim?"

"Ionlygotthemerestglimpse.BythetimeIgottothewindowhewasdowntheladderandgone,and
whenIfirstsawhimhewasagainstthesun,soIcouldn'tseehisface."

"Youaresureitwasaman?"

Maudeconsidered·

"Dressedasaman-anoldfelthaton.Itmighthavebeenawoman,ofcourse..."

"Itisinteresting,"saidPoirot."Itisveryinteresting...Nothingelse?"

"Notyet.Thejunkthatoldwomankeeps!Mustbedotty!Shecameinwithoutmehearingthismorning
and bawled me out for snooping. I shall be murdering her next. If anyone asks to be murdered that
womandoes.Areallynastybitofgoods."

Poirotmurmuredsoftly:

"EvelynHope..."

"What'sthat?"Shespunroundonhim.

"Soyouknowthatname?"

"Why-yes...It'sthenameEvaWhatsernametookwhenshewenttoAustralia.It-itwasinthepaper-
theSundayCompanion."

"TheSundayCompanionsaidmanythings,butitdidnotsaythat.Thepolicefoundthenamewrittenin
abookinMrsUpward'shouse."

Maudeexclaimed:

"Thenitwasher-andshedidn'tdieoutthere...Michaelwasright-"

"Michael?"

Maudesaidabruptly:

"Ican'tstop.I'llbelateservinglunch.I'vegotitallintheoven,butitwillbegettingdriedup."

Shestartedoffatarun.Poirotstoodlookingafterher.

Atthepostofficewindow,MrsSweetiman,hernosegluedtothepane,wonderedifthatoldforeigner
hadbeenmakingsuggestionsofacertaincharacter...

III

BackatLongMeadows,Poirotremovedhisshoes,andputonapairofbedroomslippers.Theywere
notchic,notinhisopinioncommeilfaut-buttheremustberelief.

Hesatdownontheeasy-chairagainandbeganoncemoretothink.Hehadbynowalottothinkabout.

Therewerethingshehadmissed-littlethings-

Thepatternwasallthere.Itonlyneededcohesion.

Maureen, glass in hand, talking in a dreamy voice - asking a question... Mrs Oliver's account of her
eveningattheRep.Cecil?Michael?HewasalmostsurethatshehadmentionedaMichael-EvaKane,
nurserygovernesstotheCraigs-

EvelynHope...

Ofcourse!EvelynHope!

Chapter23

Eve Carpenter came into the Summerhayes' house in the casual way that most people did, using any
doororwindowthatwasconvenient.

ShewaslookingforHerculePoirotandwhenshefoundhimshedidnotbeataboutthebush.

"Lookhere,"shesaid."You'readetectiveandyou'resupposedtobegood.Allright,I'llhireyou."

"SupposeIamnotforhire.MonDieu,Iamnotataxicab!"

"You'reaprivatedetectiveandprivatedetectivegetpaid,don'tthey?"

"Itisthecustom."

"Well,that'swhatI'msaying.I'llpayyou.I'llpayyouwell."

"Forwhat?Whatdoyouwantmetodo."

EveCarpentersaidsharply:

"Protect me against the police. They're crazy. They seem to think I killed the Upward woman. And
they'renosinground,askingmeallsortsofquestions-ferretingoutthings.Idon'tlikeit.It'sdrivingme
mental."

Poirotlookedather.Somethingofwhatshesaidwastrue.Shelookedmanyyearsolderthanwhenhe
hadfirstseenherafewweeksago.Circlesunderhereyesspokeofsleeplessnights.Therewerelines
fromhermouthtoherchin,andherhand,whenshelitacigarette,shookbadly.

"You'vegottostopit,"shesaid."You'vegotto."

"Madame,whatcanIdo?"

"Fendthemoffsomehoworother.Damnedcheek!IfGuywasamanhe'dstopallthis.Hewouldn'tlet
thempersecuteme."

"And-hedoesnothing?"

Shesaidsullenly:

"I've not told him. He just talks pompously about giving the police all the assistance possible. It's all
rightforhim.Hewasatsomeghastlypoliticalmeetingthatnight."

"Andyou?"

"Iwasjustsittingathome.Listeningtotheradioactually."

"But,ifyoucanprovethat-"

"HowcanIproveit?IofferedtheCroftsafabuloussumtosaythey'dbeeninandoutandseenmethere
-thedamnedswinerefused."

"Thatwasaveryunwisemoveonyourpart."

"Idon'tseewhy.Itwouldhavesettledthebusiness."

"Youhaveprobablyconvincedyourservantsthatyoudidcommitthemurder."

"Well-I'dpaidCroftanywayfor-"

"Forwhat?"

"Nothing."

"Remember-youwantmyhelp."

"Oh!itwasnothingthatmatters.ButCrofttookthemessagefromher."

"FromMrsUpward?"

"Yes.Askingmetogodownandseeherthatnight."

"Andyousayyoudidn'tgo?"

"WhyshouldIgo?Damneddrearyoldwoman.WhyshouldIgoandholdherhand?Ineverdreamedof
goingforamoment."

"Whendidthismessagecome?"

"WhenIwasout.Idon'tknowexactlywhen-betweenfiveandsix,Ithink.Crofttookit."

"Andyougavehimmoneytoforgethehadtakenthatmessage.Why?"

"Don'tbeidiotic.Ididn'twanttogetmixedupinitall."

"Andthenyouofferhimmoneytogiveyouanalibi?Whatdoyousupposeheandhiswifethink?"

"Whocareswhattheythink!"

"Ajurymaycare,"saidPoirotgravely.

Shestaredathim.

"You'renotserious?"

"Iamserious."

"They'dlistentoservants-andnottome?"

Poirotlookedather.

Such crass rudeness and stupidity! Antagonising the people who might have been helpful. A short-
sightedstupidpolicy.Short-sighted-

Suchlovelywideblueeyes.

Hesaidquietly:

"Whydon'tyouwearglasses,madame?Youneedthem."

"What?Oh,Idosometimes.Ididasachild."

"Andyouhadthenaplateforyourteeth."

Shestared.

"Idid,asamatteroffact.Whyallthis?"

"Theuglyducklingbecomestheswan?"

"Iwascertainlyuglyenough."

"Didyourmotherthinkso?"

Shesaidsharply:

"Idon'tremembermymother.Whatthehellarewetalkingaboutanyway?Willyoutakeonthejob?"

"IregretIcannot."

"Whycan'tyou?"

"BecauseinthisaffairIactforJamesBentley."

"JamesBentley?Oh,youmeanthathalf-witwhokilledthecharwoman.What'shegottodowiththe
Upwards?"

"Perhaps-nothing."

"Well,then!Isitaquestionofmoney?Howmuch?"

"Thatisyourgreatmistake,madame.Youthinkalwaysintermsofmoney.Youhavemoneyandyou
thinkthatonlymoneycounts."

"Ihaven'talwayshadmoney,"saidEveCarpenter.

"No," said Poirot. "I thought not." He nodded his head gently. "That explains a good deal. It excuses
somethings..."

II

EveCarpenterwentoutthewayshehadcome,blunderingalittleinthelightasPoirotrememberedher
doingbefore.

Poirotsaidsoftlytohimself:

"EvelynHope..."

SoMrsUpwardhadrungupbothDeirdreHendersonandEvelynCarpenter.Perhapsshehadrungup
someoneelse.Perhaps-

WithacrashMaureencamein.

"It'smyscissorsnow.Sorrylunchislate.I'vegotthreepairsandIcan'tfindoneofthem."

She rushed over to the bureau and the process with which Poirot was well acquainted was repeated.
Thistime,theobjectivewasattainedrathersooner.Withacryofjoy,Maureendeparted.

Almostautomatically,Poirotsteppedoverandbegantoreplacethethingsinthedrawer.Sealingwax,
notepaper,aworkbasket,photographs-

Photographs...

Hestoodstaringatthephotographheheldinhishand.

Footstepsrushedbackalongthepassage.

Poirotcouldmovequicklyinspiteofhisage.Hehaddroppedthephotographonthesofa,putacushion
onit,andhadhimselfsatonthecushion,bythetimethatMaureenre-entered.

"WherethehellI'veputacolanderfullofspinach-"

"Butitisthere,madame."

Heindicatedthecolanderasitreposedbesidehimonthesofa.

"Sothat'swhereIleftit."Shesnatcheditup."Everythingisbehindhandtoday..."Herglancetookin
HerculePoirotsittingboltupright.

"Whatonearthdoyouwanttosittherefor?Evenonacushion,it'sthemostuncomfortableseatinthe
room.Allthespringsarebroken."

"Iknow,madame.ButIam-Iamadmiringthatpictureonthewall."

Maureenglancedupattheoilpaintingofanavalofficercompletewithtelescope.

"Yes-it'sgood.Abouttheonlygoodthinginthehouse.We'renotsurethatitisn'taGainsborough."
Shesighed."Johnniewon'tsellit,though.It'shisgreat-greatandIthinkafewmoregreats,grandfather
andhewentdownwithhisshipordidsomethingfrightfullygallant.Johnnie'sterriblyproudofit."

"Yes,"saidPoirotgently."Yes,hehassomethingtobeproudabout,yourhusband!"

III

Itwasthreeo'clockwhenPoirotarrivedatDrRendell'shouse.

Hehadeatenrabbitstewandspinachandhardpotatoesandaratherpeculiarpudding,notscorchedthis
time.Instead,"Thewatergotin,"Maureenhadexplained.Hehaddrunkhalfacupofmuddycoffee.He
didnotfeelwell.

ThedoorwasopenedbytheelderlyhousekeeperMrsScott,andheaskedforMrsRendell.

Shewasinthedrawing-roomwiththeradioonandstartedupwhenhewasannounced.

He had the same impression of her that he had had the first time he saw her. Wary, on her guard,
frightenedofhim,orfrightenedofwhatherepresented.

Sheseemedpalerandmoreshadowythanshehaddone.Hewasalmostcertainthatshewasthinner.

"Iwanttoaskyouaquestion,madame."

"Aquestion?Oh?Ohyes?"

"DidMrsUpwardtelephonetoyouonthedayofherdeath?"

Shestaredathim.Shenodded.

"Atwhattime?"

"MrsScotttookthemessage.Itwasaboutsixo'clock,Ithink."

"Whatwasthemessage?Toaskyoutogotherethatevening?"

"Yes.ShesaidthatMrsOliverandRobinweregoingintoKilchesterandshewouldbeallaloneasit
wasJanet'snightout.CouldIcomedownandkeephercompany."

"Wasanytimesuggested?"

"Nineo'clockorafter."

"Andyouwent?"

"Imeantto.Ireallymeantto.ButIdon'tknowhowitwas,Ifellfastasleepafterdinnerthatnight.It
wasaftertenwhenIwokeup.Ithoughtitwastoolate."

"YoudidnottellthepoliceaboutMrsUpward'scall?"

Hereyeswidened.Theyhadaratherinnocentchildlikestare.

"OughtItohavedone?SinceIdidn'tgo,Ithoughtitdidn'tmatter.Perhaps,even,Ifeltratherguilty.If
I'd gone, she might have been alive now." She caught her breath suddenly. "Oh, I hope it wasn't like
that."

"Notquitelikethat,"saidPoirot.

Hepausedandthensaid:

"Whatareyouafraidof,Madame?"

Shecaughtherbreathsharply.

"Afraid?I'mnotafraid."

"Butyouare."

"Whatnonsense.What-whatshouldIbeafraidof?"

Poirotpausedforamomentbeforespeaking.

"Ithoughtperhapsyoumightbeafraidofme..."

Shedidn'tanswer.Buthereyeswidened.Slowly,defiantly,sheshookherhead.

Chapter24

"ThiswaytoBedlam,"saidSpence.

"Itisnotasbadasthat,"saidPoirotsoothingly.

"That'swhatyousay.Everysinglebitofinformationthatcomesinmakesthingsmoredifficult.Now
you tell me that Mrs Upward rang up three women. Asked them to come that evening. Why three?
Didn'tsheknowherselfwhichofthemwasLilyGamboll?Orisn'titacaseofLilyGambollatall?Take
thatbookwiththenameofEvelynHopeinit.Itsuggests,doesn'tit,thatMrsUpwardandEvaKaneare
oneandthesame."

"WhichagreesexactlywithJamesBentley'simpressionofwhatMrsMcGintysaidtohim."

"Ithoughthewasn'tsure."

"He was not sure. It would be impossible for James Bentley to be sure of anything. He did not listen
properlytowhatMrsMcGintywassaying.Nevertheless,ifJamesBentleyhadanimpressionthatMrs
McGintywastalkingaboutMrsUpward,itmayverywellbetrue.Impressionsoftenare."

"OurlatestinformationfromAustralia(itwasAustraliashewentto,bytheway,notAmerica)seemsto
betotheeffectthatthe'MrsHope'inquestiondiedouttheretwentyyearsago."

"Ihavealreadybeentoldthat,"saidPoirot.

"Youalwaysknoweverything,don'tyou,Poirot?"

Poirottooknonoticeofthisgibe.Hesaid:

"AttheoneendwehaveMrsHopedeceasedinAustralia-andattheother?

"At the other end we have Mrs Upward, the widow of a rich North Country manufacturer. She lived
withhimnearLeeds,andhadason.Soonaftertheson'sbirth,herhusbanddied.Theboywasinclined
tobetubercularandsinceherhusband'sdeathshelivedmostlyabroad."

"Andwhendoesthissagabegin?"

"ThesagabeginsfouryearsafterEveKaneleftEngland.Upwardmethiswifesomewhereabroadand
broughtherhomeafterthemarriage."

"SoactuallyMrsUpwardcouldbeEvaKane.Whatwashermaidenname?"

"Hargraves,Iunderstand.Butwhat'sinaname?"

"Whatindeed.EvaKane,orEvelynHope,mayhavediedinAustralia-butshemayhavearrangeda
convenientdeceaseandresuscitatedherselfasHargravesandmadeawealthymatch."

"It's all a long time ago," said Spence. "But supposing that it's true. Supposing she kept a picture of
herself and supposing that Mrs McGinty saw it - then one can only assume that she killed Mrs
McGinty."

"Thatcouldbe,coulditnot?RobinUpwardwasbroadcastingthatnight.MrsRendellmentionsgoingto
the cottage that evening, remember, and not being able to make herself heard. According to Mrs
Sweetiman,JanetGroomtoldherthatMrsUpwardwasnotreallyascrippledasshemadeout."

"That's all very well, Poirot, but the fact remains that she herself was killed - after recognising a
photograph.Nowyouwanttomakeoutthatthetwodeathsarenotconnected."

"No,no.Idonotsaythat.Theyareconnectedallright."

"Igiveitup."

"EvelynHope.Thereisthekeytotheproblem."

"Evelyn Carpenter? Is that your idea? Not Lily Gamboll - but Eva Kane's daughter! But surely she
wouldn'tkillherownmother."

"No,no.Thisisnotmatricide."

"What an irritating devil you are, Poirot. You'll be saying next that Eva Kane and Lily Gamboll, and
JaniceCourtlandandVeraBlakearealllivinginBroadhinny.Allfoursuspects."

"Wehavemorethanfour.EvaKanewastheCraigs'nurserygoverness,remember."

"What'sthatgottodowithit?"

"Wherethereisanurserygoverness,theremustbechildren-oratleastachild.Whathappenedtothe
Craigchildren?"

"Therewasagirlandaboy,Ibelieve.Somerelativetookthem."

"Sotherearetwomorepeopletotakeintoaccount.Twopeoplewhomighthavekeptaphotographfor
thethirdreasonImentioned-revenge."

"Idon'tbelieveit,"saidSpence.

Poirotsighed.

"Ithastobeconsidered,allthesame.IthinkIknowthetruth-thoughthereisonefactthatbafflesme
utterly."

"I'mgladsomethingbafflesyou,"saidSpence.

"Confirmonethingforme,moncherSpence.EvaKaneleftthecountrybeforeCraig'sexecution,thatis
right?"

"Quiteright."

"Andshewas,atthattime,expectingachild?"

"Quiteright."

"BonDieu,howstupidIhavebeen,"saidHerculePoirot."Thewholethingissimple,isitnot?"

It was after that remark that there was very nearly a third murder - the murder of Hercule Poirot by
SuperintendentSpenceinKilchesterPoliceHeadquarters.

II

"Iwant,"saidHerculePoirot,"apersonalcall.ToMrsAriadneOliver."

ApersonalcalltoMrsOliverwasnotachievedwithoutdifficulties.MrsOliverwasworkingandcould
notbedisturbed.Poirot,however,disregardedalldenials.Presentlyheheardtheauthoress'svoice.

Itwascrossandratherbreathless.

"Well, what is it?" said Mrs Oliver. "Have you got to ring me up just now? I've thought of a most
wonderful idea for a murder in a draper's shop. You know, the old-fashioned kind that sells
combinationsandfunnyvestswithlongsleeves."

"Idonotknow,"saidPoirot."AndanywaywhatIhavetosaytoyouisfarmoreimportant."

"It couldn't be," said Mrs Oliver. "Not to me, I mean. Unless I get a rough sketch of my idea jotted
down,itwillgo!"

HerculePoirotpaidnoattentiontothiscreativeagony.Heaskedsharpimperativequestionstowhich
MrsOliverrepliedsomewhatvaguely.

"Yes - yes - it's a little Repertory Theatre - I don't know its name... Well, one of them was Cecil
Something,andtheoneIwastalkingtowasMichael."

"Admirable.ThatisallIneedtoknow."

"ButwhyCecilandMichael?"

"Returntothecombinationsandthelong-sleevedvests,madame."

"I can't think why you don't arrest Dr Rendell," said Mrs Oliver. "I would, if I were the Head of
ScotlandYard."

"Verypossibly.Iwishyouluckwiththemurderinthedraper'sshop."

"Thewholeideahasgonenow,"saidMrsOliver."You'veruinedit."

Poirotapologisedhandsomely.

HeputdownthereceiverandsmiledatSpence.

"Wegonow-oratleastIwillgo-tointerviewayoungactorwhoseChristiannameisMichaeland
whoplaysthelessimportantpartsintheCullenquayRepertoryTheatre.Iprayonlythatheistheright
Michael."

"Whyonearth-"

PoirotdexterouslyavertedtherisingwrathofSuperintendentSpence.

"Doyouknow,cherami,whatisasecretdePolichinelle?"

"IsthisaFrenchlesson?"demandedthesuperintendentwrathfully.

"A secret de Polichinelle is a secret that everyone can know. For this reason the people who do not
knowitneverhearaboutit-forifeveryonethinksyouknowathing,nobodytellsyou."

"HowImanagetokeepmyhandsoffyouIdon'tknow,"saidSuperintendentSpence.

Chapter25

Theinquestwasover-averdicthadbeenreturnedofmurderbyapersonorpersonsunknown.

Aftertheinquest,attheinvitationofHerculePoirot,thosewhohadattendeditcametoLongMeadows.

Workingdiligently,Poirothadinducedsomesemblanceoforderinthelongdrawing-room.Chairshad
been arranged in a neat semi-circle, Maureen's dogs had been excluded with difficulty, and Hercule
Poirot,aself-appointedlecturer,tookuphispositionattheendoftheroomandinitiatedproceedings
withaslightlyself-consciousclearingofthethroat.

"MessieursetMesdames-"

Hepaused.Hisnextwordswereunexpectedandseemedalmostfarcical.

"MrsMcGinty'sdead.Howdidshedie?

DownonherkneesjustlikeI.

MrsMcGinty'sdead.Howdidshedie?

HoldingherhandoutjustlikeI.

MrsMcGinty'sdead.Howdidshedie?

Likethis..."

Seeingtheirexpressions,hewenton:

"No,Iamnotmad.BecauseIrepeattoyouthechildishrhymeofachildishgame,itdoesnotmeanthat
Iaminmysecondchildhood.Someofyoumayhaveplayedthatgameaschildren.MrsUpwardhad
playedit.Indeedsherepeatedittome-withadifference.Shesaid:'MrsMcGinty'sdead.Howdidshe
die?StickingherneckoutjustlikeI.'Thatiswhatshesaid-andthatiswhatshedid.Shestuckherneck
out-andsoshealso,likeMrsMcGinty,died...

"Forourpurposewemustgobacktothebeginning-toMrsMcGinty-downonherkneesscrubbing
other people's houses. Mrs McGinty was killed, and a man, James Bentley, was arrested, tried and
convicted. For certain reasons, Superintendent Spence, the officer in charge of the case was not
convincedofBentley'sguilt,strongthoughtheevidencewas.Iagreedwithhim.Icamedownhereto
answeraquestion.'HowdidMrsMcGintydie?Whydidshedie?'

"Iwillnotmakeyouthelongandcomplicatedhistories.Iwillsayonlythatassimpleathingasabottle
ofinkgavemeaclue.IntheSundayCompanion,readbyMrsMcGintyontheSundaybeforeherdeath,
fourphotographswerepublished.Youknowallaboutthosephotographsbynow,soIwillonlysaythat
MrsMcGintyrecognisedoneofthosephotographsasaphotographshehadseeninoneofthehouses
wheresheworked.

"She spoke of this to James Bentley though he attached no importance to the matter at the time, nor
indeedafterwards.Actuallyhebarelylistened.ButhehadtheimpressionthatMrsMcGintyhadseen
the photograph in Mrs Upward's house and that when she referred to a woman who need not be so
proudifallwasknown,shewasreferringtoMrsUpward.Wecannotdependonthatstatementofhis,
butshecertainlyusedthatphraseaboutprideandthereisnodoubtthatMrsUpwardwasaproudand
imperiouswoman.

"As you all know - some of you were present and the others will have heard - I produced those four
photographs at Mrs Upward's house. I caught a flicker of surprise and recognition in Mrs Upward's
expressionandtaxedherwithit.Shehadtoadmitit.Shesaidthatshe'hadseenoneofthephotographs
somewhere but she couldn't remember where.' When asked which photograph, she pointed to a
photograph of the child Lily Gamboll. But that, let me tell you, was not the truth. For reasons of her
own,MrsUpwardwantedtokeepherrecognitiontoherself.Shepointedtothewrongphotographto
putmeoff.

"Butonepersonwasnotdeceived-themurderer.OnepersonknewwhichphotographMrsUpwardhad
recognised.AndhereIwillnotbeattoandfroaboutthebush-thephotographinquestionwasthatof
EvaKane-awomanwhowasaccomplice,victimorpossiblyleadingspiritinthefamousCraigMurder
Case.

"On the next evening Mrs Upward was killed. She was killed for the same reason that Mrs McGinty
waskilled.MrsMcGintystuckherhandout,MrsUpwardstuckherneckout-theresultwasthesame.

"NowbeforeMrsUpwarddied,threewomenreceivedtelephonecalls.MrsCarpenter,MrsRendell,and
MrsHenderson.AllthreecallswereamessagefromMrsUpwardaskingthepersoninquestiontocome
and see her that evening. It was her servant's night out and her son and Mrs Oliver were going into
Cullenquay. It would seem, therefore, that she wanted a private conversation with each of these three
women.

"Nowwhythreewomen?DidMrsUpwardknowwhereshehadseenthephotographofEvaKane?Or
did she know she had seen it but could not remember where? Had these three women anything in
common?Nothing,itwouldseem,buttheirage.Theywereall,roughly,intheneighbourhoodofthirty.

"Youhave,perhaps,readthearticleoftheSundayCompanion.Thereisatrulysentimentalpictureinit
ofEvaKane'sdaughterinyearstocome.ThewomenaskedbyMrsUpwardtocomeandseeherwere
alloftherightagetobeEvaKane'sdaughter.

"So it would seem that living in Broadhinny was a young woman who was the daughter of the
celebratedmurdererCraigandofhismistressEvaKane,anditwouldalsoseemthatthatyoungwoman
would go to any lengths to prevent that fact being known. Would go, indeed, to the length of twice
committing murder. For when Mrs Upward was found dead, there were two coffee cups on the table,
bothused,andonthevisitor'scupfainttracesoflipstick.

"Now let us go back to the three women who received telephone messages. Mrs Carpenter got the
messagebutsaysshedidnotgotoLaburnumsthatnight.MrsRendellmeanttogo,butfellasleepinher
chair.MissHendersondidgotoLaburnumsbutthehousewasdarkandshecouldnotmakeanyonehear
andshecameawayagain.

"Thatisthestorythesethreewomentell-butthereisconflictingevidence.Thereisthatsecondcoffee
cupwithlipstickonit,andanoutsidewitness,thegirlEdna,statespositivelythatshesawafair-haired
woman go in to the house. There is also the evidence of scent - an expensive and exotic scent which
MrsCarpenterusesaloneofthoseconcerned."

Therewasaninterruption.EveCarpentercriedout:

"It'salie.It'sawickedcruellie.Itwasn'tme!Ineverwentthere!Ineverwentneartheplace.Guy,can't
youdosomethingabouttheselies?"

GuyCarpenterwaswhitewithanger.

"Letmeinformyou,M.Poirot,thatthereisalawofslanderandallthesepeoplepresentarewitnesses."

"Isitslandertosaythatyourwifeusesacertainscent-andalso,letmetellyou,acertainlipstick?"

"It'sridiculous,"criedEve."Absolutelyridiculous!Anyonecouldgosplashingmyscentabout."

UnexpectedlyPoirotbeamedonher.

"Mais oui, exactly! Anyone could. An obvious, not very subtle thing to do. Clumsy and crude. So

clumsythat,asfarasIwasconcerned,itdefeateditsobject.Itdidmore.Itgaveme,asthephrasegoes,
ideas.Yes,itgavemeideas.

"Scent-andtracesoflipstickonacup.Butitissoeasytoremovelipstickfromacup-Iassureyou
everytracecanbewipedoffquiteeasily.Orthecupsthemselvescouldberemovedandwashed.Why
not? There was no one in the house. But that was not done. I asked myself why? And the answer
seemedtobeadeliberatestressonfemininity,anunderliningofthefactthatitwasawoman'smurder.I
reflectedonthetelephonecallstothosethreewomen-allofthemhadbeenmessages.Innocasehad
therecipientherselfspokentoMrsUpward.SoperhapsitwasnotMrsUpwardwhohadtelephoned.It
wassomeonewhowasanxioustoinvolveawoman-anywoman-inthecrime.AgainIaskedwhy?
Andtherecanbeonlyoneanswer-thatitwasnotawomanwhokilledMrsUpward-butaman."

Helookedroundonhisaudience.Theywereallverystill.Onlytwopeopleresponded.

EveCarpentersaidwithasigh:"Nowyou'retalkingsense!"

MrsOliver,noddingherheadvigorously,said:"Ofcourse."

"SoIhavearrivedatthispoint-amankilledMrsUpwardandamankilledMrsMcGinty!Whatman?
Thereasonforthemurdermuststillbethesame-itallhingesonaphotograph.Inwhoseposessionwas
thatphotograph?Thatisthefirstquestion.Andwhywasitkept?

"Well,thatisperhapsnotodifficult.Saythatitwaskeptoriginallyforsentimentalreasons.OnceMrs
McGinty is - removed, the photograph need not be destroyed. But after the second murder, it is
different. This time the photograph has definitely been connected with the murder. The photograph is
nowadangerousthingtokeep.Thereforeyouwillallagree,itissuretobedestroyed."

Helookedroundattheheadsthatnoddedagreement.

"But,forallthat,thephotographwasnotdestroyed!No,itwasnotdestroyed!Iknowthat-becauseI
found it. I found it a few days ago. I found it in this house. In the drawer of the bureau that you see
standingagainstthewall.Ihaveithere."

Heheldoutthefadedphotographofasimperinggirlwithroses.

"Yes,"saidPoirot."ItisEvaKane.Andonthebackofitarewrittentwowordsinpencil.ShallItellyou
whattheyare?'Mymother'..."

Hiseyes,graveandaccusing,restedonMaureenSummerhayes.Shepushedbackthehairfromherface
andstaredathimwithwidebewilderedeyes.

"Idon'tunderstand.Inever-"

"No, Mrs Summerhayes, you do not understand. There can be only two reasons for keeping this
photographafterthesecondmurder.Thefirstofthemisaninnocentsentimentality.Youhadnofeeling
ofguiltandsoyoucouldkeepthephotograph.Youtoldusyourself,atMrsCarpenter'shouseoneday,
that you were an adopted child. I doubt whether you have ever known what your real mother's name
was.Butsomebodyelseknew.Somebodywhohasalltheprideoffamily-apridethatmakeshimcling
tohisancestralhome,aprideinhisancestorsandhislineage.Thatmanwouldratherdiethanhavethe
world-andhischildren-knowthatMaureenSummerhayesisthedaughterofthemurdererCraigand
ofEvaKane.Thatman,Ihavesaid,wouldratherdie.Butthatwouldnothelp,wouldit?Soinsteadlet
ussaythatwehavehereamanwhoispreparedtokill."

JohnnieSummerhayesgotupfromhisseat.Hisvoice,whenhespoke,wasquiet,almostfriendly.

"Rather a lot of nonsense you're talkin', aren't you? Enjoying yourself spouting out a lot of theories?
Theoriesthat'salltheyare!Sayingthingsaboutmywife-"

Hisangerbrokesuddenlyinafurioustide.

"Youdamnedfilthyswine-"

The swiftness of his rush across the floor took the room unawares. Poirot skipped back nimbly and
SuperintendentSpencewassuddenlybetweenPoirotandSummerhayes.

"Now,now,MajorSummerhayes,takeiteasy-takeiteasy-"

Summerhayesrecoveredhimself,shrugged,said:

"Sorry.Ridiculousreally!Afterall-anyonecanstickaphotographinadrawer."

"Precisely,"saidPoirot."Andtheinterestingthingaboutthisphotographisthatithasnofingerprintson
it.Hepaused,thennoddedhisheadgently.

"Butitshouldhavehad,"hesaid."IfMrsSummerhayeskeptit,shewouldhavekeptitinnocently,and
soherfingerprintsshouldhavebeenonit."

Maureenexclaimed:

"Ithinkyou'remad.I'veneverseenthatphotographinmylife-exceptatMrsUpward'sthatday."

"Itisfortunateforyou,"saidPoirot,"thatIknowthatyouarespeakingthetruth.Thephotographwas
putintothatdraweronlyafewminutesbeforeIfounditthere.Twicethatmorningthecontentsofthat
drawerweretumbledontotheground,twiceIreplacedthem;thefirsttimethephotographwasnotin
thedrawer,thesecondtimeitwas.Ithadbeenplacedthereduringthatinterval-andIknowbywhom."

Anewnotecreptintohisvoice.Hewasnolongeraridiculouslittlemanwithanabsurdmoustacheand
dyedhair,hewasahunterveryclosetohisquarry.

"Thecrimeswerecommittedbyaman-theywerecommitedforthesimplestofallreasons-formoney.
InMrsUpward'shousetherewasabookfoundandontheflyleafofthatbookiswrittenEvelynHope.
Hope was the name Eva Kane took when she left England. If her real name was Evelyn then in all
probabilityshegavethenameofEvelyntoherchildwhenitwasborn.ButEvelynisaman'snameas
wellasawoman's.WhyhadweassumedthatEvaKane'schildwasagirl?RoughlybecausetheSunday
Companion said so! But actually the Sunday Companion had not said so in so many words, it had
assumed it because of a to romantic interview with Eva Kane. But Eva Kane left England before her
childwasborn-sonobodycouldsaywhatthesexofthechildwouldbe.

"ThatiswhereIletmyselfbemisled.BytheromanticinaccuracyofthePress.

"EvelynHope,EvaKane'sson,comestoEngland.Heistalentedandheattractstheattentionofavery
richwomanwhoknowsnothingabouthisorigin-onlytheromanticstoryhechoosestotellher.(Avery
prettylittlestoryitwas-allaboutatragicyoungballerinadyingoftuberculosisinParis!)

"She is a lonely woman who has recently lost her own son. The talented young playwright takes her
namebydeedpoll.

"ButyourrealnameisEvelynHope,isn'tit,MrUpward?"

RobinUpwardcriedoutshrilly:

"Ofcourseitisn't!Idon'tknowwhatyou'retalkingabout."

"Youreallycannothopetodenyit.Therearepeoplewhoknowyouunderthatname.ThenameEvelyn
Hope,writteninthebook,isinyourhandwriting-thesamehandwritingasthewords'mymother'on
the back of this photograph. Mrs McGinty saw the photograph and the writing on it when she was
tidyingyourthingsaway.ShespoketoyouaboutitafterreadingtheSundayCompanion.MrsMcGinty
assumedthatitwasaphotographofMrsUpwardwhenyoung,sinceshehadnoideaMrsUpwardwas
not your real mother. But you knew that if once she mentioned the matter so that it came to Mrs
Upward'sears, it wouldbe the end.Mrs Upward had quitefanatical views onthe subject of heredity.
Shewouldnottolerateforamomentanadoptedsonwhowasthesonofafamousmurderer.Norwould
sheforgiveyourliesonthesubject.

"SoMrsMcGintyhadatallcoststobesilenced.Youpromisedheralittlepresent,perhaps,forbeing
discreet.Youcalledonherthenexteveningonyourwaytobroadcast-andyoukilledher!Likethis..."

Withasuddenmovement,Poirotseizedthesugarhammerfromtheshelfandwhirleditroundanddown
asthoughtobringitcrashingdownonRobin'shead.

Somenacingwasthegesturethatseveralofthecirclecriedout.

RobinUpwardscreamed.Ahighterrifiedscream.

Heyelled:"Don't...don't...Itwasanaccident.Iswearitwasanaccident.Ididn'tmeantokillher.Ilost
myhead.IswearIdid."

"You washed off the blood and put the sugar hammer back in this room where you had found it. But
therearenewscientificmethodsofdeterminingbloodstains-andofbringinguplatentfingerprints."

"I tell you I never meant to kill her... It was all a mistake... And anyway it isn't my fault... I'm not
responsible.It'sinmyblood.Icanthelpit.Youcan'thangmeforsomethingthatisn'tmyfault..."

UnderhisbreathSpencemuttered:"Can'twe?Youseeifwedon't!"

Aloudhespokeinagraveofficialvoice:

"Imustwarnyou,MrUpward,thatanythingyousay..."

Chapter26

"Ireallydon'tsee,M.Poirot,howeveryoucametosuspectRobinUpward."

Poirotlookedcomplacentlyatthefacesturnedtowardshim.

Healwaysenjoyedexplanations.

"Ioughttohavesuspectedhimmuchsooner.Theclue,suchasimpleclue,wasthesentenceutteredby
MrsSummerhayesatthecocktailpartythatday.ShesaidtoRobinUpward:'Idon'tlikebeingadopted,
doyou?Thoseweretherevealingtwowords.Doyou?Theymeant-theycouldonlymean-thatMrs
UpwardwasnotRobin'sownmother.

"MrsUpwardwasmorbidlyanxiousherselfthatnooneshouldknowthatRobinwasnotherownson.
She had probably heard too many ribald comments on brilliant young men who live with and upon
elderly women. And very few people did know - only the small theatrical coterie where she had first
comeacrossRobin.Shehadfewintimatefriendsinthiscountry,havinglivedabroadsolong,andshe
choseinanycasetocomeandsettledownherefarawayfromherownYorkshire.Evenwhenshemet
friends of the old days, she did not enlighten them when they assumed that this Robin was the same
Robintheyhadknownasalittleboy.

"ButfromtheveryfirstsomethinghadstruckmeasnotquitenaturalinthehouseholdatLaburnums.
Robin's attitude to Mrs Upward was not that of either a spoiled child, or of a devoted son. It was the
attitude of a protégé to a patron. The rather fanciful title of Madre had a theatrical touch. And Mrs
Upward,thoughshewasclearlyveryfondofRobin,neverthelessunconsciouslytreatedhimasaprized
possessionthatshehadboughtandpaidfor.

"SothereisRobinUpward,comfortablyestablished,with'Madre's'pursetobackhisventures,andthen
into his assured world comes Mrs McGinty who has recognised the photograph that he keeps in a
drawer-thephotographwith'mymother'writtenonthebackofit.Hismother,whomhehastoldMrs
Upwardwasatalentedyoungballetdancerwhodiedoftuberculosis!MrsMcGinty,ofcourse,thinks
that the photograph is of Mrs Upward when young, since she assumes as a matter of course that Mrs
UpwardisRobin'sownmother.IdonotthinkthatactualblackmaileverenteredMrsMcGinty'smind,
butshedidhope,perhaps,fora'nicelittlepresent,'asarewardforholdinghertongueaboutapieceof
bygonegossipwhichwouldnothavebeenpleasantfora'proud'womanlikeMrsUpward.

"ButRobinUpwardwastakingnochances.Hepurloinsthesugarhammer,laughinglyreferredtoasa
perfect weapon for murder by Mrs Summerhayes, and on the following evening, he stops at Mrs
McGinty'scottageonhiswaytobroadcast.Shetakeshimintotheparlour,quiteunsuspicious,andhe
kills her. He knows where she keeps her savings - everyone in Broadhinny seems to know - and he
fakesaburglary,hidingthemoneyoutsidethehouse.Bentleyissuspectedandarrested.Everythingis
nowsafeforcleverRobinUpward.

"Butthen,suddenly,Iproducefourphotographs,andMrsUpwardrecognisestheoneofEvaKaneas
being identical with a photograph of Robin's ballerina mother! She needs a little time to think things
out.Murderisinvolved.CanitbepossiblethatRobin-?No,sherefusestobelieveit.

"Whatactionshewouldhavetakenintheendwedonotknow.ButRobinwastakingnochances.He
plansthewholemiseenscène.ThevisittotheReponJanet'snightout,thetelephonecalls,thecoffee
cup carefully smeared with lipstick taken from Eve Carpenter's bag, he even buys a bottle of her
distinctive perfume. The whole thing was a theatrical scene setting with prepared props. Whilst Mrs
Oliver waited in the car, Robin ran back twice into the house. The murder was a matter of seconds.
Afterthattherewasonlytheswiftdistributionofthe'props.'AndwithMrsUpwarddead,heinheriteda
largefortunebythetermsofherwill,andnosuspicioncouldattachtohimsinceitwouldseemquite
certainthatawomanhadcommittedthecrime.Withthreewomenvisitingthecottagethatnight,oneof
themwasalmostsuretobesuspected.Andthat,indeed,wasso.

"ButRobin,likeallcriminals,wascarelessandoverconfident.Notonlywasthereabookinthecottage
withhisoriginalnamescribbledinit,buthealsokept,forpurposesofhisown,thefatalphotograph.It
wouldhavebeenmuchsaferforhimifhehaddestroyedit,butheclungtothebeliefthathecoulduseit
toincriminatesomeoneelseattherightmoment.

"HeprobablythoughtthenofMrsSummerhayes.Thatmaybethereasonhemovedoutofthecottage
andintoLongMeadows.Afterall,thesugarhammerwashers,andMrsSummerhayeswas,heknew,an
adoptedchildandmightfindithardtoproveshewasnotEvaKane'sdaughter.

"However,whenDeirdreHendersonadmittedhavingbeenonthesceneofthecrime,heconceivedthe
idea of planting the photograph amongst her possessions. He tried to do so, using a ladder that the
gardener had left against the window. But Mrs Wetherby was nervous and had insisted on all the
windowsbeingkeptlocked,soRobindidnotsucceedinhispurpose.Hecamestraightbackhereand
putthephotographinadrawerwhich,unfortunatelyforhim,Ihadsearchedonlyashorttimebefore.

"I knew, therefore, that the photograph had been planted, and I knew by whom - by the only other
personinthehouse-thatpersonwhowastypingindustriouslyovermyhead.

"Since the name Evelyn Hope had been written on the flyleaf of the book from the cottage, Evelyn
HopemustbeeitherMrsUpward-orRobinUpward...

"ThenameEvelynhadledmeastray-IhadconnecteditwithMrsCarpentersincehernamewasEve.
ButEvelynwasaman'snameaswellasawoman's.

"I remembered the conversation Mrs Oliver had told me about at the Little Rep in Cullenquay. The
youngactorwhohadbeentalkingtoherwasthepersonIwantedtoconfirmmytheory-thetheorythat
RobinwasnotMrsUpward'sownson.Forbythewayhehadtalked,itseemedclearthatheknewthe
realfacts.AndhisstoryofMrsUpward'sswiftretributiononayoungmanwhohaddeceivedherasto
hisoriginswassuggestive.

"The truth is that I ought to have seen the whole thing very much sooner. I was handicapped by a
serious error. I believed that I had been deliberately pushed with the intention of sending me on to a
railway line - and that the person who had done so was the murderer of Mrs McGinty. Now Robin
UpwardwaspracticallytheonlypersoninBroadhinnywhocouldnothavebeenatKilchesterstationat
thattime."

TherewasasuddenchucklefromJohnnieSummerhayes.

"Probablysomeoldmarketwomanwithabasket.Theydoshove."

Poirotsaid:

"Actually, Robin Upward was far too conceited to fear me at all. It is a characteristic of murderers.
Fortunately,perhaps.Forinthiscasetherewasverylittleevidence."

MrsOliverstirred.

"Do you mean to say," she demanded incredulously, "that Robin murdered his mother whilst I sat
outsideinthecar,andthatIhadn'ttheleastideaofit?Therewouldn'thavebeentime!"

"Ohyes,therewould.People'sideasoftimeareusuallyludicrouslywrong.Justnoticesometimehow
swiftlyastagecanbereset.Inthiscaseitwasmostlyamatterofprops."

"Goodtheatre,"murmuredMrsOlivermechanically.

"Yes,itwaspre-eminentlyatheatricalmurder.Allverymuchcontrived."

"AndIsatthereinthecar-andhadn'ttheleastidea!"

"Iamafraid,"murmuredPoirot,"thatyourwoman'sintuitionwastakingadayoff..."

Chapter27

"I'mnotgoingbacktoBreather&Scuttle,"saidMaudeWilliams."They'realousyfirmanyway."

"Andtheyhaveservedtheirpurpose."

"Whatdoyoumeanbythat,M.Poirot?"

"Whydidyoucometothispartoftheworld?"

"IsupposebeingMrKnowall,youthinkyouknow?"

"Ihavealittleidea."

"Andwhatisthisfamousidea?"

PoirotwaslookingmeditativelyatMaude'shair.

"Ihavebeenverydiscreet,"hesaid."IthasbeenassumedthatthewomanwhowentintoMrsUpward's
house, the fair-haired woman that Edna saw, was Mrs Carpenter, and that she has denied being there
simply out of fright. Since it was Robin Upward who killed Mrs Upward, her presence has no more
significancethanthatofMissHenderson.ButallthesameIdonotthinkshewasthere.Ithink,Miss
Williams,thatthewomanEdnasawwasyou."

"Whyme?"

Hervoicewashard.

Poirotcounteredwithanotherquestion.

"Why were you so interested in Broadhinny? Why, when you went over there, did you ask Robin
Upward for an autograph - you are not the autograph-hunting type. What did you know about the
Upwards?Whydidyoucometothispartoftheworldinthefirstplace?HowdidyouknowthatEva
KanediedinAustraliaandthenameshetookwhensheleftEngland?"

"Goodatguessing,aren'tyou?Well,I'venothingtohide,notreally."

Sheopenedherhandbag.Fromawornnotecaseshepulledoutasmallnewspapercuttingfrayedwith
age.ItshowedthefacethatPoirotbynowknewsowell,thesimperingofEvaKane.

Writtenacrossitwerethewords,Shekilledmymother...

Poirothandeditbacktoher.

"Yes,Ithoughtso.YourrealnameisCraig?"

Maudenodded.

"Iwasbroughtupbysomecousins-verydecenttheywere.ButIwasoldenoughwhenitallhappened
not to forget. I used to think about it a good deal. About her. She was a nasty bit of goods all right -
childrenknow!Myfatherwasjust-weak.Andbesottedbyher.Buthetooktherap.Forsomething,I've
alwaysbelieved,thatshedid.Ohyes,Iknowhe'sanaccessoryafterthefact-butit'snotquitethesame
thing,isit?Ialwaysmeanttofindoutwhathadbecomeofher.WhenIwasgrownup,Igotdetectives
ontoit.TheytracedhertoAustraliaandfinallyreportedthatshewasdead.She'dleftason-Evelyn
Hopehecalledhimself.

"Well, that seemed to close the account. But then I got pally with a young actor chap. He mentioned
someonecalledEvelynHopewho'dcomefromAustralia,butwhonowcalledhimselfRobinUpward
andwhowroteplays.Iwasinterested.OnenightRobinUpwardwaspointedouttome-andhewas
withhismother.SoIthoughtthat,afterall,EvaKanewasn'tdead.Instead,shewasqueeningitabout
withapacketofmoney.

"I got myself a job down here. I was curious - and a bit more than curious. All right, I'll admit it, I
thoughtI'dliketogetevenwithherinsomeway...WhenyoubroughtupallthisbusinessaboutJames
Bentley,IjumpedtotheconclusionthatitwasMrsUpwardwho'dkilledMrsMcGinty.EvaKaneupto
hertricksagain.IhappenedtohearfromMichaelWestthatRobinUpwardandMrsOliverwerecoming
overtothisshowattheCullenquayRep.IdecidedtogotoBroadhinnyandbeardthewoman.Imeant-
Idon'tquiteknowwhatImeant.I'mtellingyoueverything-ItookalittlepistolIhadinthewarwith
me.Tofrightenher?Ormore?Honestly,Idon'tknow...

"Well,Igotthere.Therewasnosoundinthehouse.Thedoorwasunlocked.Iwentin.YouknowhowI
foundher.Sittingtheredead,herfaceallpurpleandswollen.AllthethingsI'dbeenthinkingseemed
sillyandmelodramatic.IknewthatI'dnever,really,wanttokillanyonewhenitcametoit.ButIdid
realisethatitmightbeawkwardtoexplainwhatI'dbeendoinginthehouse.ItwasacoldnightandI'd
gotgloveson,soIknewIhadn'tleftanyfingerprints,andIdidn'tthinkforamomentanyonehadseen
me.That'sall."Shepausedandaddedabruptly:"Whatareyougoingtodoaboutit?"

"Nothing,"saidHerculePoirot."Iwishyougoodluckinlife,thatisall."

Epilogue

HerculePoirotandSuperintendentSpencewerecelebratingattheLaVielleGrand'mère.

AscoffeewasservedSpenceleanedbackinhischairandgaveadeepsighofrepletion.

"Notatallbadgrubhere,"hesaidapprovingly."Abitfrenchified,perhaps,butafterallwherecanyou
getadecentsteakandchipsnowadays?"

"Ihadbeendininghereontheeveningyoufirstcametome,"saidPoirotreminiscently.

"Ah,alotofwaterunderthebridgesincethen.I'vegottohandittoyou,M.Poirot.Youdidthetrickall
right."Aslightsmilecreasedhiswoodencountenance."Luckythatyoungmandidn'trealisehowvery
littleevidencewe'dreallygot.Why,aclevercounselwouldhavemademincemeatofit!Buthelosthis
headcompletelyandgavetheshowaway.Spiltthebeansandincriminatedhimselfuptothehilt.Lucky
forus!"

"Itwasnotentirelyluck,"saidPoirotreprovingly."Iplayedhim,asyouplaythebigfish!HethinksI
take the evidence against Mrs Summerhayes seriously - when it is not so, he suffers the reaction and
goestopieces.Andbesides,heisacoward.IwhirlthesugarhammerandhethinksImeantohithim.
Acutefearalwayproducesthetruth."

"Luckyyoudidn'tsufferfromMajorSummerhayes'reaction,"saidSpencewithagrin."Gotatemper,
hehas,andquickonhisfeet.Ionlygotbetweenyoujustintime.Hasheforgivenyouyet?"

"Ohyes,wearethefirmestfriends.AndIhavegivenMrsSummerhayesacookerybookandhavealso
taughtherpersonallyhowtomakeanomelette.BonDieu,whatIsufferedinthathouse!"

Heclosedhiseyes.

"Complicated business, the whole thing," ruminated Spence, uninterested in Poirot's agonised
memories."Justshowshowtruetheoldsayingisthateveryone'sgotsomethingtohide.MrsCarpenter,
now,hadanarrowsqueakofbeingarrestedformurder.Ifeverawomanactedguilty,shedid,andallfor
what?"

"Ehbien,what?"askedPoirotcuriously.

"Justtheusualbusinessofaratherunsavourypast.Shehadbeenataxidancer-andabrightgirlwith
plentyofmenfriends!Shewasn'tawarwidowwhenshecameandsettleddowninBroadhinny.Only
whattheycallnowadaysan'unofficialwife.'Well,ofcourseallthatwouldn'tdoforastuffedshirtlike
GuyCarpenter,soshe'dspunhimaverydifferentsortoftale.Andshewasfranticlestthewholething
wouldcomeoutoncewestartedpokingroundintopeople'sorigins."

Hesippedhiscoffee,andthengavealowchuckle.

"ThentaketheWetherbys.Sinistersortofhouse.Hateandmalice.Awkwardfrustratedsortofgirl.And
what'sbehindthat?Nothingsinister.Justmoney!Plainpounds,shillingsandpence."

"Assimpleasthat!"

"Thegirlhasthemoney-quitealotofit.Leftherbyanaunt.Somotherkeepstightholdofherincase
she should want to marry. And stepfather loathes her because she has the dibs and pays the bills. I
gatherhehimselfhasbeenafailureatanythinghe'stried.Ameancuss-andasforMrsW.,she'spure
poisondissolvedinsugar."

"Iagreewithyou."Poirotnoddedhisheadinasatisfiedfashion."Itisfortunatethatthegirlhasmoney.
ItmakeshermarriagetoJamesBentleymuchmoreeasytoarrange."

SuperintendentSpencelookedsurprised.

"GoingtomarryJamesBentley?DeirdreHenderson?Whosaysso?"

"Isayso,"saidPoirot."Ioccupymyselfwiththeaffair.Ihave,nowthatourlittleproblemisover,too
muchtimeonmyhands.Ishallemploymyselfinforwardingthismarriage.Asyet,thetwoconcerned
havenoideaofsuchathing.Buttheyareattracted.Lefttothemselves,nothingwouldhappen-butthey
havetoreckonwithHerculePoirot.Youwillsee!Theaffairwillmarch."

Spencegrinned.

"Don'tmindstickingyourfingersinotherpeople'spie,doyou?"

"Moncher,thatdoesnotcomewellfromyou,"saidPoirotreproachfully.

"Ah,you'vegotmethere.Allthesame,JamesBentleyisapoorstick."

"Certainly he is a poor stick! At the moment he is positively aggrieved because he is not going to be
hanged."

"Heoughttobedownonhiskneeswithgratitudetoyou,"saidSpence.

"Say,rather,toyou.Butapparentlyhedoesnotthinkso."

"Queercuss."

"Asyousay,andyetatleasttwowomenhavebeenpreparedtotakeaninterestinhim.Natureisvery
unexpected."

"IthoughtitwasMaudeWilliamsyouweregoingtopairoffwithhim."

"Heshallmakehischoice,"aidPoirot."Heshall-howdoyousayit?-awardtheapple.ButIthinkthat
itisDeirdreHendersonthathewillchoose.MaudeWilliamshastoomuchenergyandvitality.Withher

hewouldretireevenfartherintohisshell."

"Can'tthinkwhyeitherofthemshouldwanthim!"

"ThewaysofNatureareindeedinscrutable."

"Allthesame,you'llhaveyourworkcutout.Firstbringinghimuptothescratch-andthenprisingthe
girlloosefrompoisonpussmother-she'llfightyoutoothandclaw!"

"Successisonthesideofthebigbattalions."

"Onthesideofthebigmoustaches,Isupposeyoumean."

Spenceroared.Poirotstrokedhismoustachecomplacentlyandsuggestedabrandy.

"Idon'tmindifIdo,M.Poirot."

Poirotgavetheorder.

"Ah,"saidSpence,"IknewtherewassomethingelseIhadtotellyou.YouremembertheRendell?"

"Naturally."

"Well,whenwewerecheckinguponhim,somethingratheroddcametolight.Itseemsthatwhenhis
first wife died in Leeds where his practice was at that time, the Police there got some rather nasty
anonymouslettersabouthim.Saying,ineffect,thathe'dpoisonedher.Ofcoursepeopledosaythatsort
ofthing.She'dbeenattendedbyanoutsidedoctor,reputableman,andheseemedtothinkherdeathwas
quiteaboveboard.Therewasnothingtogouponexceptthefactthatthey'dmutuallyinsuredtheirlives
ineachother'sfavour,andpeopledodothat.Nothingforustogoupon,asIsay,andyet-Iwonder?
Whatdoyouthink?"

PoirotrememberedMrsRendell'sfrightenedair.Hermentionofanonymousletters,andherinsistence
thatshedidnotbelieveanythingtheysaid.Heremembered,too,hercertaintythathisinquiryaboutMrs
McGintywasonlyapretext.

Hesaid,"IshouldimaginethatitwasnotonlythePolicewhogotanonymousletters."

"Sentthemtoher,too?"

"I think so. When I appeared in Broadhinny, she thought I was on her husband's track, and that the
McGintybusinesswasapretext.Yes-andhethoughtso,too...Thatexplainsit!ItwasDrRendellwho
triedtopushmeunderthetrainthatnight!"

"Thinkhe'llhaveashotatdoingthiswifein,too?"

"Ithinkshewouldbewisenottoinsureherlifeinhisfavour,"saidPoirotdryly."Butifhebelieveswe
haveaneyeonhimhewillprobablybeprudent."

"We'lldowhatwecan.We'llkeepaneyeonourdoctor,andmakeitclearwe'redoingso."

Poirotraisedhisbrandyglass.

"ToMrsOliver,"hesaid.

"Whatputherintoyourheadsuddenly?"

"Woman'sintuition,"saidPoirot.

Therewassilenceforamoment,thenSpencesaidslowly:

"RobinUpwardiscomingupfortrialnextweek.Youknow,Poirot,Ican'thelpfeelingdoubtful-"

Poirotinterruptedhimwithhorror.

"Mon Dieu! You are not now doubtful about Robin Upward's guilt, are you? Do not say you want to
startoveragain."

SuperintendentSpencegrinnedreassuringly.

"GoodLord,no.He'samurdererallright!"Headded:"Cockyenoughforanything!"