Chapter XI. The Case for the Prosecution

by Agatha Christie

　　The trial of John Cavendish for the murder of his stepmother tookplace two months later.Of the intervening weeks I will say little, but my admiration andsympathy went out unfeignedly to Mary Cavendish. She rangedherself passionately on her husband's side, scorning the mereidea of his guilt, and fought for him tooth and nail.I expressed my admiration to Poirot, and he nodded thoughtfully."Yes, she is of those women who show at their best in adversity.It brings out all that is sweetest and truest in them. Her prideand her jealousy have--""Jealousy?" I queried."Yes. Have you not realized that she is an unusually jealouswoman? As I was saying, her pride and jealousy have been laidaside. She thinks of nothing but her husband, and the terriblefate that is hanging over him."He spoke very feelingly, and I looked at him earnestly,remembering that last afternoon, when he had been deliberatingwhether or not to speak. With his tenderness for "a woman'shappiness," I felt glad that the decision had been taken out ofhis hands."Even now," I said, "I can hardly believe it. You see, up to thevery last minute, I thought it was Lawrence!"Poirot grinned."I know you did.""But John! My old friend John!""Every murderer is probably somebody's old friend," observedPoirot philosophically. "You cannot mix up sentiment andreason.""I must say I think you might have given me a hint.""Perhaps, mon ami, I did not do so, just because he was your oldfriend."I was rather disconcerted by this, remembering how I had busilypassed on to John what I believed to be Poirot's views concerningBauerstein. He, by the way, had been acquitted of the chargebrought against him. Nevertheless, although he had been tooclever for them this time, and the charge of espionage could notbe brought home to him, his wings were pretty well clipped forthe future.I asked Poirot whether he thought John would be condemned. To myintense surprise, he replied that, on the contrary, he wasextremely likely to be acquitted."But, Poirot--" I protested."Oh, my friend, have I not said to you all along that I have noproofs. It is one thing to know that a man is guilty, it isquite another matter to prove him so. And, in this case, thereis terribly little evidence. That is the whole trouble. I,Hercule Poirot, know, but I lack the last link in my chain. Andunless I can find that missing link--" He shook his head gravely."When did you first suspect John Cavendish?" I asked, after aminute or two."Did you not suspect him at all?""No, indeed.""Not after that fragment of conversation you overheard betweenMrs. Cavendish and her mother-in-law, and her subsequent lack offrankness at the inquest?""No.""Did you not put two and two together, and reflect that if it wasnot Alfred Inglethorp who was quarrelling with his wife--and youremember, he strenuously denied it at the inquest--it must beeither Lawrence or John. Now, if it was Lawrence, MaryCavendish's conduct was just as inexplicable. But if, on theother hand, it was John, the whole thing was explained quitenaturally.""So," I cried, a light breaking in upon me, "it was John whoquarrelled with his mother that afternoon?""Exactly.""And you have known this all along?""Certainly. Mrs. Cavendish's behaviour could only be explainedthat way.""And yet you say he may be acquitted?"Poirot shrugged his shoulders."Certainly I do. At the police court proceedings, we shall hearthe case for the prosecution, but in all probability hissolicitors will advise him to reserve his defence. That will besprung upon us at the trial. And--ah, by the way, I have a wordof caution to give you, my friend. I must not appear in thecase.""What?""No. Officially, I have nothing to do with it. Until I havefound that last link in my chain, I must remain behind thescenes. Mrs. Cavendish must think I am working for her husband,not against him.""I say, that's playing it a bit low down," I protested."Not at all. We have to deal with a most clever and unscrupulousman, and we must use any means in our power-- otherwise he willslip through our fingers. That is why I have been careful toremain in the background. All the discoveries have been made byJapp, and Japp will take all the credit. If I am called upon togive evidence at all"--he smiled broadly-- "it will probably beas a witness for the defence."I could hardly believe my ears."It is quite en regle," continued Poirot. "Strangely enough, Ican give evidence that will demolish one contention of theprosecution.""Which one?""The one that relates to the destruction of the will. JohnCavendish did not destroy that will."Poirot was a true prophet. I will not go into the details of thepolice court proceedings, as it involves many tiresomerepetitions. I will merely state baldly that John Cavendishreserved his defence, and was duly committed for trial.September found us all in London. Mary took a house inKensington, Poirot being included in the family party.I myself had been given a job at the War Office, so was able tosee them continually.As the weeks went by, the state of Poirot's nerves grew worse andworse. That "last link" he talked about was still lacking.Privately, I hoped it might remain so, for what happiness couldthere be for Mary, if John were not acquitted?On September 15th John Cavendish appeared in the dock at the OldBailey, charged with "The Wilful Murder of Emily AgnesInglethorp," and pleaded "Not Guilty."Sir Ernest Heavywether, the famous K. C., had been engaged todefend him.Mr. Philips, K. C., opened the case for the Crown.The murder, he said, was a most premeditated and cold-bloodedone. It was neither more nor less than the deliberate poisoningof a fond and trusting woman by the stepson to whom she had beenmore than a mother. Ever since his boyhood, she had supportedhim. He and his wife had lived at Styles Court in every luxury,surrounded by her care and attention. She had been their kindand generous benefactress.He proposed to call witnesses to show how the prisoner, aprofligate and spendthrift, had been at the end of his financialtether, and had also been carrying on an intrigue with a certainMrs. Raikes, a neighbouring farmer's wife. This having come tohis stepmother's ears, she taxed him with it on the afternoonbefore her death, and a quarrel ensued, part of which wasoverheard. On the previous day, the prisoner had purchasedstrychnine at the village chemist's shop, wearing a disguise bymeans of which he hoped to throw the onus of the crime uponanother man--to wit, Mrs. Inglethorp's husband, of whom he hadbeen bitterly jealous. Luckily for Mr. Inglethorp, he had beenable to produce an unimpeachable alibi.On the afternoon of July 17th, continued Counsel, immediatelyafter the quarrel with her son, Mrs. Inglethorp made a new will.This will was found destroyed in the grate of her bedroom thefollowing morning, but evidence had come to light which showedthat it had been drawn up in favour of her husband. Deceased hadalready made a will in his favour before her marriage, but--andMr. Philips wagged an expressive forefinger--the prisoner was notaware of that. What had induced the deceased to make a freshwill, with the old one still extant, he could not say. She wasan old lady, and might possibly have forgotten the former one;or--this seemed to him more likely--she may have had an idea thatit was revoked by her marriage, as there had been someconversation on the subject. Ladies were not always very wellversed in legal knowledge. She had, about a year before,executed a will in favour of the prisoner. He would callevidence to show that it was the prisoner who ultimately handedhis stepmother her coffee on the fatal night. Later in theevening, he had sought admission to her room, on which occasion,no doubt, he found an opportunity of destroying the will which,as far as he knew, would render the one in his favour valid.The prisoner had been arrested in consequence of the discovery,in his room, by Detective Inspector Japp--a most brilliantofficer--of the identical phial of strychnine which had been soldat the village chemist's to the supposed Mr. Inglethorp on theday before the murder. It would be for the jury to decidewhether or not these damning facts constituted an overwhelmingproof of the prisoner's guilt.And, subtly implying that a jury which did not so decide, wasquite unthinkable, Mr. Philips sat down and wiped his forehead.The first witnesses for the prosecution were mostly those who hadbeen called at the inquest, the medical evidence being againtaken first.Sir Ernest Heavywether, who was famous all over England for theunscrupulous manner in which he bullied witnesses, only asked twoquestions."I take it, Dr. Bauerstein, that strychnine, as a drug, actsquickly?""Yes.""And that you are unable to account for the delay in this case?""Yes.""Thank you."Mr. Mace identified the phial handed him by Counsel as that soldby him to "Mr. Inglethorp." Pressed, he admitted that he onlyknew Mr. Inglethorp by sight. He had never spoken to him. Thewitness was not cross-examined.Alfred Inglethorp was called, and denied having purchased thepoison. He also denied having quarrelled with his wife. Variouswitnesses testified to the accuracy of these statements.The gardeners' evidence, as to the witnessing of the will wastaken, and then Dorcas was called.Dorcas, faithful to her "young gentlemen," denied strenuouslythat it could have been John's voice she heard, and resolutelydeclared, in the teeth of everything, that it was Mr. Inglethorpwho had been in the boudoir with her mistress. A rather wistfulsmile passed across the face of the prisoner in the dock. Heknew only too well how useless her gallant defiance was, since itwas not the object of the defence to deny this point. Mrs.Cavendish, of course, could not be called upon to give evidenceagainst her husband.After various questions on other matters, Mr. Philips asked:"In the month of June last, do you remember a parcel arriving forMr. Lawrence Cavendish from Parkson's?"Dorcas shook her head."I don't remember, sir. It may have done, but Mr. Lawrence wasaway from home part of June.""In the event of a parcel arriving for him whilst he was away,what would be done with it?""It would either be put in his room or sent on after him.""By you?""No, sir, I should leave it on the hall table. It would be MissHoward who would attend to anything like that."Evelyn Howard was called and, after being examined on otherpoints, was questioned as to the parcel."Don't remember. Lots of parcels come. Can't remember onespecial one.""You do not know if it was sent after Mr. Lawrence Cavendish toWales, or whether it was put in his room?""Don't think it was sent after him. Should have remembered it ifit was.""Supposing a parcel arrived addressed to Mr. Lawrence Cavendish,and afterwards it disappeared, should you remark its absence?""No, don't think so. I should think some one had taken charge ofit.""I believe, Miss Howard, that it was you who found this sheet ofbrown paper?" He held up the same dusty piece which Poirot and Ihad examined in the morning-room at Styles."Yes, I did.""How did you come to look for it?""The Belgian detective who was employed on the case asked me tosearch for it.""Where did you eventually discover it?""On the top of--of--a wardrobe.""On top of the prisoner's wardrobe?""I--I believe so.""Did you not find it yourself?""Yes.""Then you must know where you found it?""Yes, it was on the prisoner's wardrobe.""That is better."An assistant from Parkson's, Theatrical Costumiers, testifiedthat on June 29th, they had supplied a black beard to Mr. L.Cavendish, as requested. It was ordered by letter, and a postalorder was enclosed. No, they had not kept the letter. Alltransactions were entered in their books. They had sent thebeard, as directed, to "L. Cavendish, Esq., Styles Court."Sir Ernest Heavywether rose ponderously."Where was the letter written from?""From Styles Court.""The same address to which you sent the parcel?""Yes.""And the letter came from there?""Yes."Like a beast of prey, Heavywether fell upon him:"How do you know?""I--I don't understand.""How do you know that letter came from Styles? Did you notice thepostmark?""No--but--""Ah, you did not notice the postmark! And yet you affirm soconfidently that it came from Styles. It might, in fact, havebeen any postmark?""Y--es.""In fact, the letter, though written on stamped notepaper, mighthave been posted from anywhere? From Wales, for instance?"The witness admitted that such might be the case, and Sir Ernestsignified that he was satisfied.Elizabeth Wells, second housemaid at Styles, stated that aftershe had gone to bed she remembered that she had bolted the frontdoor, instead of leaving it on the latch as Mr. Inglethorp hadrequested. She had accordingly gone downstairs again to rectifyher error. Hearing a slight noise in the West wing, she hadpeeped along the passage, and had seen Mr. John Cavendishknocking at Mrs. Inglethorp's door.Sir Ernest Heavywether made short work of her, and under hisunmerciful bullying she contradicted herself hopelessly, and SirErnest sat down again with a satisfied smile on his face.With the evidence of Annie, as to the candle grease on the floor,and as to seeing the prisoner take the coffee into the boudoir,the proceedings were adjourned until the following day.As we went home, Mary Cavendish spoke bitterly against theprosecuting counsel."That hateful man! What a net he has drawn around my poor John!How he twisted every little fact until he made it seem what itwasn't!""Well," I said consolingly, "it will be the other way aboutto-morrow.""Yes," she said meditatively; then suddenly dropped her voice."Mr. Hastings, you do not think--surely it could not have beenLawrence--Oh, no, that could not be!"But I myself was puzzled, and as soon as I was alone with PoirotI asked him what he thought Sir Ernest was driving at."Ah!" said Poirot appreciatively. "He is a clever man, that SirErnest.""Do you think he believes Lawrence guilty?""I do not think he believes or cares anything! No, what he istrying for is to create such confusion in the minds of the jurythat they are divided in their opinion as to which brother didit. He is endeavouring to make out that there is quite as muchevidence against Lawrence as against John--and I am not at allsure that he will not succeed."Detective-inspector Japp was the first witness called when thetrial was reopened, and gave his evidence succinctly and briefly.After relating the earlier events, he proceeded:"Acting on information received, Superintendent Summerhaye andmyself searched the prisoner's room, during his temporary absencefrom the house. In his chest of drawers, hidden beneath someunderclothing, we found: first, a pair of gold-rimmed pince-nezsimilar to those worn by Mr. Inglethorp" --these wereexhibited--"secondly, this phial."The phial was that already recognized by the chemist's assistant,a tiny bottle of blue glass, containing a few grains of a whitecrystalline powder, and labelled: "Strychnine Hydrochloride.POISON."A fresh piece of evidence discovered by the detectives since thepolice court proceedings was a long, almost new piece ofblotting-paper. It had been found in Mrs. Inglethorp's chequebook, and on being reversed at a mirror, showed clearly thewords: ". . . erything of which I die possessed I leave to mybeloved husband Alfred Ing ..." This placed beyond question thefact that the destroyed will had been in favour of the deceasedlady's husband. Japp then produced the charred fragment of paperrecovered from the grate, and this, with the discovery of thebeard in the attic, completed his evidence.But Sir Ernest's cross-examination was yet to come."What day was it when you searched the prisoner's room?""Tuesday, the 24th of July.""Exactly a week after the tragedy?""Yes.""You found these two objects, you say, in the chest of drawers.Was the drawer unlocked?""Yes.""Does it not strike you as unlikely that a man who had committeda crime should keep the evidence of it in an unlocked drawer foranyone to find?""He might have stowed them there in a hurry.""But you have just said it was a whole week since the crime. Hewould have had ample time to remove them and destroy them.""Perhaps.""There is no perhaps about it. Would he, or would he not havehad plenty of time to remove and destroy them?""Yes.""Was the pile of underclothes under which the things were hiddenheavy or light?""Heavyish.""In other words, it was winter underclothing. Obviously, theprisoner would not be likely to go to that drawer?""Perhaps not.""Kindly answer my question. Would the prisoner, in the hottestweek of a hot summer, be likely to go to a drawer containingwinter underclothing. Yes, or no?""No.""In that case, is it not possible that the articles in questionmight have been put there by a third person, and that theprisoner was quite unaware of their presence?""I should not think it likely.""But it is possible?""Yes.""That is all."More evidence followed. Evidence as to the financialdifficulties in which the prisoner had found himself at the endof July. Evidence as to his intrigue with Mrs. Raikes--poorMary, that must have been bitter hearing for a woman of herpride. Evelyn Howard had been right in her facts, though heranimosity against Alfred Inglethorp had caused her to jump to theconclusion that he was the person concerned.Lawrence Cavendish was then put into the box. In a low voice, inanswer to Mr. Philips' questions, he denied having orderedanything from Parkson's in June. In fact, on June 29th, he hadbeen staying away, in Wales.Instantly, Sir Ernest's chin was shooting pugnaciously forward."You deny having ordered a black beard from Parkson's on June29th?""I do.""Ah! In the event of anything happening to your brother, who willinherit Styles Court?"The brutality of the question called a flush to Lawrence's paleface. The judge gave vent to a faint murmur of disapprobation,and the prisoner in the dock leant forward angrily.Heavywether cared nothing for his client's anger."Answer my question, if you please.""I suppose," said Lawrence quietly, "that I should.""What do you mean by you 'suppose'? Your brother has no children.You would inherit it, wouldn't you?""Yes.""Ah, that's better," said Heavywether, with ferocious geniality."And you'd inherit a good slice of money too, wouldn't you?""Really, Sir Ernest," protested the judge, "these questions arenot relevant."Sir Ernest bowed, and having shot his arrow proceeded."On Tuesday, the 17th July, you went, I believe, with anotherguest, to visit the dispensary at the Red Cross Hospital inTadminster?""Yes.""Did you--while you happened to be alone for a fewseconds--unlock the poison cupboard, and examine some of thebottles?""I--I--may have done so.""I put it to you that you did do so?""Yes."Sir Ernest fairly shot the next question at him."Did you examine one bottle in particular?""No, I do not think so.""Be careful, Mr. Cavendish. I am referring to a little bottle ofHydro-chloride of Strychnine."Lawrence was turning a sickly greenish colour."N--o--I am sure I didn't.""Then how do you account for the fact that you left theunmistakable impress of your finger-prints on it?"The bullying manner was highly efficacious with a nervousdisposition."I--I suppose I must have taken up the bottle.""I suppose so too! Did you abstract any of the contents of thebottle?""Certainly not.""Then why did you take it up?""I once studied to be a doctor. Such things naturally interestme.""Ah! So poisons 'naturally interest' you, do they? Still, youwaited to be alone before gratifying that 'interest' of yours?""That was pure chance. If the others had been there, I shouldhave done just the same.""Still, as it happens, the others were not there?""No, but----""In fact, during the whole afternoon, you were only alone for acouple of minutes, and it happened--I say, it happened-- to beduring those two minutes that you displayed your 'naturalinterest' in Hydro-chloride of Strychnine?"Lawrence stammered pitiably."I--I----"With a satisfied and expressive countenance, Sir Ernest observed:"I have nothing more to ask you, Mr. Cavendish."This bit of cross-examination had caused great excitement incourt. The heads of the many fashionably attired women presentwere busily laid together, and their whispers became so loud thatthe judge angrily threatened to have the court cleared if therewas not immediate silence.There was little more evidence. The hand-writing experts werecalled upon for their opinion of the signature of "AlfredInglethorp" in the chemist's poison register. They all declaredunanimously that it was certainly not his hand-writing, and gaveit as their view that it might be that of the prisoner disguised.Cross-examined, they admitted that it might be the prisoner'shand-writing cleverly counterfeited.Sir Ernest Heavywether's speech in opening the case for thedefence was not a long one, but it was backed by the full forceof his emphatic manner. Never, he said, in the course of hislong experience, had he known a charge of murder rest on slighterevidence. Not only was it entirely circumstantial, but thegreater part of it was practically unproved. Let them take thetestimony they had heard and sift it impartially. The strychninehad been found in a drawer in the prisoner's room. That drawerwas an unlocked one, as he had pointed out, and he submitted thatthere was no evidence to prove that it was the prisoner who hadconcealed the poison there. It was, in fact, a wicked andmalicious attempt on the part of some third person to fix thecrime on the prisoner. The prosecution had been unable toproduce a shred of evidence in support of their contention thatit was the prisoner who ordered the black beard from Parkson's.The quarrel which had taken place between prisoner and hisstepmother was freely admitted, but both it and his financialembarrassments had been grossly exaggerated.His learned friend--Sir Ernest nodded carelessly at Mr.Philips--had stated that if the prisoner were an innocent man, hewould have come forward at the inquest to explain that it was he,and not Mr. Inglethorp, who had been the participator in thequarrel. He thought the facts had been misrepresented. What hadactually occurred was this. The prisoner, returning to the houseon Tuesday evening, had been authoritatively told that there hadbeen a violent quarrel between Mr. and Mrs. Inglethorp. Nosuspicion had entered the prisoner's head that anyone couldpossibly have mistaken his voice for that of Mr. Inglethorp. Henaturally concluded that his stepmother had had two quarrels.The prosecution averred that on Monday, July 16th, the prisonerhad entered the chemist's shop in the village, disguised as Mr.Inglethorp. The prisoner, on the contrary, was at that time at alonely spot called Marston's Spinney, where he had been summonedby an anonymous note, couched in blackmailing terms, andthreatening to reveal certain matters to his wife unless hecomplied with its demands. The prisoner had, accordingly, goneto the appointed spot, and after waiting there vainly for half anhour had returned home. Unfortunately, he had met with no one onthe way there or back who could vouch for the truth of his story,but luckily he had kept the note, and it would be produced asevidence.As for the statement relating to the destruction of the will, theprisoner had formerly practiced at the Bar, and was perfectlywell aware that the will made in his favour a year before wasautomatically revoked by his stepmother's remarriage. He wouldcall evidence to show who did destroy the will, and it waspossible that that might open up quite a new view of the case.Finally, he would point out to the jury that there was evidenceagainst other people besides John Cavendish. He would directtheir attention to the fact that the evidence against Mr.Lawrence Cavendish was quite as strong, if not stronger than thatagainst his brother.He would now call the prisoner.John acquitted himself well in the witness-box. Under SirErnest's skilful handling, he told his tale credibly and well.The anonymous note received by him was produced, and handed tothe jury to examine. The readiness with which he admitted hisfinancial difficulties, and the disagreement with his stepmother,lent value to his denials.At the close of his examination, he paused, and said:"I should like to make one thing clear. I utterly reject anddisapprove of Sir Ernest Heavywether's insinuations against mybrother. My brother, I am convinced, had no more to do with thecrime than I have."Sir Ernest merely smiled, and noted with a sharp eye that John'sprotest had produced a very favourable impression on the jury.Then the cross-examination began."I understand you to say that it never entered your head that thewitnesses at the inquest could possibly have mistaken your voicefor that of Mr. Inglethorp. Is not that very surprising?""No, I don't think so. I was told there had been a quarrelbetween my mother and Mr. Inglethorp, and it never occurred to methat such was not really the case.""Not when the servant Dorcas repeated certain fragments of theconversation--fragments which you must have recognized?""I did not recognize them.""Your memory must be unusually short!""No, but we were both angry, and, I think, said more than wemeant. I paid very little attention to my mother's actualwords."Mr. Philips' incredulous sniff was a triumph of forensic skill.He passed on to the subject of the note."You have produced this note very opportunely. Tell me, is therenothing familiar about the hand-writing of it?""Not that I know of.""Do you not think that it bears a marked resemblance to your ownhand-writing--carelessly disguised?""No, I do not think so.""I put it to you that it is your own hand-writing!""No.""I put it to you that, anxious to prove an alibi, you conceivedthe idea of a fictitious and rather incredible appointment, andwrote this note yourself in order to bear out your statement!""No.""Is it not a fact that, at the time you claim to have beenwaiting about at a solitary and unfrequented spot, you werereally in the chemist's shop in Styles St. Mary, where youpurchased strychnine in the name of Alfred Inglethorp?""No, that is a lie.""I put it to you that, wearing a suit of Mr. Inglethorp'sclothes, with a black beard trimmed to resemble his, you werethere--and signed the register in his name!""That is absolutely untrue.""Then I will leave the remarkable similarity of hand-writingbetween the note, the register, and your own, to theconsideration of the jury," said Mr. Philips, and sat down withthe air of a man who has done his duty, but who was neverthelesshorrified by such deliberate perjury.After this, as it was growing late, the case was adjourned tillMonday.Poirot, I noticed, was looking profoundly discouraged. He hadthat little frown between the eyes that I knew so well."What is it, Poirot?" I inquired."Ah, mon ami, things are going badly, badly."In spite of myself, my heart gave a leap of relief. Evidentlythere was a likelihood of John Cavendish being acquitted.When we reached the house, my little friend waved aside Mary'soffer of tea."No, I thank you, madame. I will mount to my room."I followed him. Still frowning, he went across to the desk andtook out a small pack of patience cards. Then he drew up a chairto the table, and, to my utter amazement, began solemnly to buildcard houses!My jaw dropped involuntarily, and he said at once:"No, mon ami, I am not in my second childhood! I steady mynerves, that is all. This employment requires precision of thefingers. With precision of the fingers goes precision of thebrain. And never have I needed that more than now!""What is the trouble?" I asked.With a great thump on the table, Poirot demolished his carefullybuilt up edifice."It is this, mon ami! That I can build card houses seven storieshigh, but I cannot"--thump--"find"--thump--"that last link ofwhich I spoke to you."I could not quite tell what to say, so I held my peace, and hebegan slowly building up the cards again, speaking in jerks as hedid so."It is done--so! By placing--one card--on another--withmathematical--precision!"I watched the card house rising under his hands, story by story.He never hesitated or faltered. It was really almost like aconjuring trick."What a steady hand you've got," I remarked. "I believe I'veonly seen your hand shake once.""On an occasion when I was enraged, without doubt," observedPoirot, with great placidity."Yes indeed! You were in a towering rage. Do you remember? Itwas when you discovered that the lock of the despatch-case inMrs. Inglethorp's bedroom had been forced. You stood by themantel-piece, twiddling the things on it in your usual fashion,and your hand shook like a leaf! I must say----"But I stopped suddenly. For Poirot, uttering a hoarse andinarticulate cry, again annihilated his masterpiece of cards, andputting his hands over his eyes swayed backwards and forwards,apparently suffering the keenest agony."Good heavens, Poirot!" I cried. "What is the matter? Are youtaken ill?""No, no," he gasped. "It is--it is--that I have an idea!""Oh!" I exclaimed, much relieved. "One of your 'little ideas'?""Ah, ma foi, no!" replied Poirot frankly. "This time it is anidea gigantic! Stupendous! And you--you, my friend, have givenit to me!"Suddenly clasping me in his arms, he kissed me warmly on bothcheeks, and before I had recovered from my surprise ran headlongfrom the room.Mary Cavendish entered at that moment."What is the matter with Monsieur Poirot? He rushed past mecrying out: 'A garage! For the love of Heaven, direct me to agarage, madame!' And, before I could answer, he had dashed outinto the street."I hurried to the window. True enough, there he was, tearing downthe street, hatless, and gesticulating as he went. I turned toMary with a gesture of despair."He'll be stopped by a policeman in another minute. There hegoes, round the corner!"Our eyes met, and we stared helplessly at one another."What can be the matter?"I shook my head."I don't know. He was building card houses, when suddenly hesaid he had an idea, and rushed off as you saw.""Well," said Mary, "I expect he will be back before dinner."But night fell, and Poirot had not returned.