Chapter XIII. Poirot Explains

by Agatha Christie

　　"Poirot, you old villain," I said, "I've half a mind to strangleyou! What do you mean by deceiving me as you have done?"We were sitting in the library. Several hectic days lay behindus. In the room below, John and Mary were together once more,while Alfred Inglethorp and Miss Howard were in custody. Now atlast, I had Poirot to myself, and could relieve my still burningcuriosity.Poirot did not answer me for a moment, but at last he said:"I did not deceive you, mon ami. At most, I permitted you todeceive yourself.""Yes, but why?""Well, it is difficult to explain. You see, my friend, you havea nature so honest, and a countenance so transparent,that--enfin, to conceal your feelings is impossible! If I hadtold you my ideas, the very first time you saw Mr. AlfredInglethorp that astute gentleman would have--in your soexpressive idiom--'smelt a rat'! And then, bon jour to ourchances of catching him!""I think that I have more diplomacy than you give me credit for.""My friend," besought Poirot, "I implore you, do not enrageyourself! Your help has been of the most invaluable. It is butthe extremely beautiful nature that you have, which made mepause.""Well," I grumbled, a little mollified. "I still think you mighthave given me a hint.""But I did, my friend. Several hints. You would not take them.Think now, did I ever say to you that I believed John Cavendishguilty? Did I not, on the contrary, tell you that he would almostcertainly be acquitted?""Yes, but----""And did I not immediately afterwards speak of the difficulty ofbringing the murderer to justice? Was it not plain to you that Iwas speaking of two entirely different persons?""No," I said, "it was not plain to me!""Then again," continued Poirot, "at the beginning, did I notrepeat to you several times that I didn't want Mr. Inglethorparrested now? That should have conveyed something to you.""Do you mean to say you suspected him as long ago as that?""Yes. To begin with, whoever else might benefit by Mrs.Inglethorp's death, her husband would benefit the most. Therewas no getting away from that. When I went up to Styles with youthat first day, I had no idea as to how the crime had beencommitted, but from what I knew of Mr. Inglethorp I fancied thatit would be very hard to find anything to connect him with it.When I arrived at the chateau, I realized at once that it wasMrs. Inglethorp who had burnt the will; and there, by the way,you cannot complain, my friend, for I tried my best to force onyou the significance of that bedroom fire in midsummer.""Yes, yes," I said impatiently. "Go on.""Well, my friend, as I say, my views as to Mr. Inglethorp's guiltwere very much shaken. There was, in fact, so much evidenceagainst him that I was inclined to believe that he had not doneit.""When did you change your mind?""When I found that the more efforts I made to clear him, the moreefforts he made to get himself arrested. Then, when I discoveredthat Inglethorp had nothing to do with Mrs. Raikes and that infact it was John Cavendish who was interested in that quarter, Iwas quite sure.""But why?""Simply this. If it had been Inglethorp who was carrying on anintrigue with Mrs. Raikes, his silence was perfectlycomprehensible. But, when I discovered that it was known allover the village that it was John who was attracted by thefarmer's pretty wife, his silence bore quite a differentinterpretation. It was nonsense to pretend that he was afraid ofthe scandal, as no possible scandal could attach to him. Thisattitude of his gave me furiously to think, and I was slowlyforced to the conclusion that Alfred Inglethorp wanted to bearrested. Eh bien! from that moment, I was equally determinedthat he should not be arrested.""Wait a minute. I don't see why he wished to be arrested?""Because, mon ami, it is the law of your country that a man onceacquitted can never be tried again for the same offence. Aha!but it was clever--his idea! Assuredly, he is a man of method.See here, he knew that in his position he was bound to besuspected, so he conceived the exceedingly clever idea ofpreparing a lot of manufactured evidence against himself. Hewished to be arrested. He would then produce his irreproachablealibi--and, hey presto, he was safe for life!""But I still don't see how he managed to prove his alibi, and yetgo to the chemist's shop?"Poirot stared at me in surprise."Is it possible? My poor friend! You have not yet realized thatit was Miss Howard who went to the chemist's shop?""Miss Howard?""But, certainly. Who else? It was most easy for her. She is ofa good height, her voice is deep and manly; moreover, remember,she and Inglethorp are cousins, and there is a distinctresemblance between them, especially in their gait and bearing.It was simplicity itself. They are a clever pair!""I am still a little fogged as to how exactly the bromidebusiness was done," I remarked."Bon! I will reconstruct for you as far as possible. I aminclined to think that Miss Howard was the master mind in thataffair. You remember her once mentioning that her father was adoctor? Possibly she dispensed his medicines for him, or she mayhave taken the idea from one of the many books lying about whenMademoiselle Cynthia was studying for her exam. Anyway, she wasfamiliar with the fact that the addition of a bromide to amixture containing strychnine would cause the precipitation ofthe latter. Probably the idea came to her quite suddenly. Mrs.Inglethorp had a box of bromide powders, which she occasionallytook at night. What could be easier than quietly to dissolve oneor more of those powders in Mrs. Inglethorp's large sized bottleof medicine when it came from Coot's? The risk is practicallynil. The tragedy will not take place until nearly a fortnightlater. If anyone has seen either of them touching the medicine,they will have forgotten it by that time. Miss Howard will haveengineered her quarrel, and departed from the house. The lapseof time, and her absence, will defeat all suspicion. Yes, it wasa clever idea! If they had left it alone, it is possible thecrime might never have been brought home to them. But they werenot satisfied. They tried to be too clever--and that was theirundoing."Poirot puffed at his tiny cigarette, his eyes fixed on theceiling."They arranged a plan to throw suspicion on John Cavendish, bybuying strychnine at the village chemist's, and signing theregister in his hand-writing."On Monday Mrs. Inglethorp will take the last dose of hermedicine. On Monday, therefore, at six o'clock, AlfredInglethorp arranges to be seen by a number of people at a spotfar removed from the village. Miss Howard has previously made upa cock and bull story about him and Mrs. Raikes to account forhis holding his tongue afterwards. At six o'clock, Miss Howard,disguised as Alfred Inglethorp, enters the chemist's shop, withher story about a dog, obtains the strychnine, and writes thename of Alfred Inglethorp in John's handwriting, which she hadpreviously studied carefully."But, as it will never do if John, too, can prove an alibi, shewrites him an anonymous note--still copying his hand-writing--which takes him to a remote spot where it is exceedinglyunlikely that anyone will see him."So far, all goes well. Miss Howard goes back to Middlingham.Alfred Inglethorp returns to Styles. There is nothing that cancompromise him in any way, since it is Miss Howard who has thestrychnine, which, after all, is only wanted as a blind to throwsuspicion on John Cavendish."But now a hitch occurs. Mrs. Inglethorp does not take hermedicine that night. The broken bell, Cynthia's absence--arranged by Inglethorp through his wife--all these are wasted.And then--he makes his slip."Mrs. Inglethorp is out, and he sits down to write to hisaccomplice, who, he fears, may be in a panic at the nonsuccess oftheir plan. It is probable that Mrs. Inglethorp returned earlierthan he expected. Caught in the act, and somewhat flurried hehastily shuts and locks his desk. He fears that if he remains inthe room he may have to open it again, and that Mrs. Inglethorpmight catch sight of the letter before he could snatch it up. Sohe goes out and walks in the woods, little dreaming that Mrs.Inglethorp will open his desk, and discover the incriminatingdocument."But this, as we know, is what happened. Mrs. Inglethorp readsit, and becomes aware of the perfidy of her husband and EvelynHoward, though, unfortunately, the sentence about the bromidesconveys no warning to her mind. She knows that she is indanger--but is ignorant of where the danger lies. She decides tosay nothing to her husband, but sits down and writes to hersolicitor, asking him to come on the morrow, and she alsodetermines to destroy immediately the will which she has justmade. She keeps the fatal letter.""It was to discover that letter, then, that her husband forcedthe lock of the despatch-case?""Yes, and from the enormous risk he ran we can see how fully herealized its importance. That letter excepted, there wasabsolutely nothing to connect him with the crime.""There's only one thing I can't make out, why didn't he destroyit at once when he got hold of it?""Because he did not dare take the biggest risk of all--that ofkeeping it on his own person.""I don't understand.""Look at it from his point of view. I have discovered that therewere only five short minutes in which he could have taken it--thefive minutes immediately before our own arrival on the scene, forbefore that time Annie was brushing the stairs, and would haveseen anyone who passed going to the right wing. Figure toyourself the scene! He enters the room, unlocking the door bymeans of one of the other doorkeys--they were all much alike. Hehurries to the despatch-case--it is locked, and the keys arenowhere to be seen. That is a terrible blow to him, for it meansthat his presence in the room cannot be concealed as he hadhoped. But he sees clearly that everything must be risked forthe sake of that damning piece of evidence. Quickly, he forcesthe lock with a penknife, and turns over the papers until hefinds what he is looking for."But now a fresh dilemma arises: he dare not keep that piece ofpaper on him. He may be seen leaving the room--he may besearched. If the paper is found on him, it is certain doom.Probably, at this minute, too, he hears the sounds below of Mr.Wells and John leaving the boudoir. He must act quickly. Wherecan he hide this terrible slip of paper? The contents of thewaste-paper-basket are kept and in any case, are sure to beexamined. There are no means of destroying it; and he dare notkeep it. He looks round, and he sees--what do you think, monami?"I shook my head."In a moment, he has torn the letter into long thin strips, androlling them up into spills he thrusts them hurriedly in amongstthe other spills in the vase on the mantle-piece."I uttered an exclamation."No one would think of looking there," Poirot continued. "And hewill be able, at his leisure, to come back and destroy thissolitary piece of evidence against him.""Then, all the time, it was in the spill vase in Mrs.Inglethorp's bedroom, under our very noses?" I cried.Poirot nodded."Yes, my friend. That is where I discovered my 'last link,' andI owe that very fortunate discovery to you.""To me?""Yes. Do you remember telling me that my hand shook as I wasstraightening the ornaments on the mantel-piece?""Yes, but I don't see----""No, but I saw. Do you know, my friend, I remembered thatearlier in the morning, when we had been there together, I hadstraightened all the objects on the mantel-piece. And, if theywere already straightened, there would be no need to straightenthem again, unless, in the meantime, some one else had touchedthem.""Dear me," I murmured, "so that is the explanation of yourextraordinary behaviour. You rushed down to Styles, and found itstill there?""Yes, and it was a race for time.""But I still can't understand why Inglethorp was such a fool asto leave it there when he had plenty of opportunity to destroyit.""Ah, but he had no opportunity. I saw to that.""You?""Yes. Do you remember reproving me for taking the household intomy confidence on the subject?""Yes.""Well, my friend, I saw there was just one chance. I was notsure then if Inglethorp was the criminal or not, but if he was Ireasoned that he would not have the paper on him, but would havehidden it somewhere, and by enlisting the sympathy of thehousehold I could effectually prevent his destroying it. He wasalready under suspicion, and by making the matter public Isecured the services of about ten amateur detectives, who wouldbe watching him unceasingly, and being himself aware of theirwatchfulness he would not dare seek further to destroy thedocument. He was therefore forced to depart from the house,leaving it in the spill vase.""But surely Miss Howard had ample opportunities of aiding him.""Yes, but Miss Howard did not know of the paper's existence. Inaccordance with their prearranged plan, she never spoke to AlfredInglethorp. They were supposed to be deadly enemies, and untilJohn Cavendish was safely convicted they neither of them daredrisk a meeting. Of course I had a watch kept on Mr. Inglethorp,hoping that sooner or later he would lead me to the hiding-place.But he was too clever to take any chances. The paper was safewhere it was; since no one had thought of looking there in thefirst week, it was not likely they would do so afterwards. Butfor your lucky remark, we might never have been able to bring himto justice.""I understand that now; but when did you first begin to suspectMiss Howard?""When I discovered that she had told a lie at the inquest aboutthe letter she had received from Mrs. Inglethorp.""Why, what was there to lie about?""You saw that letter? Do you recall its general appearance?""Yes--more or less.""You will recollect, then, that Mrs. Inglethorp wrote a verydistinctive hand, and left large clear spaces between her words.But if you look at the date at the top of the letter you willnotice that 'July 17th' is quite different in this respect. Doyou see what I mean?""No," I confessed, "I don't.""You do not see that that letter was not written on the 17th, buton the 7th--the day after Miss Howard's departure? The '1' waswritten in before the '7' to turn it into the '17th'.""But why?""That is exactly what I asked myself. Why does Miss Howardsuppress the letter written on the 17th, and produce this fakedone instead? Because she did not wish to show the letter of the17th. Why, again? And at once a suspicion dawned in my mind.You will remember my saying that it was wise to beware of peoplewho were not telling you the truth.""And yet," I cried indignantly, "after that, you gave me tworeasons why Miss Howard could not have committed the crime!""And very good reasons too," replied Poirot. "For a long timethey were a stumbling-block to me until I remembered a verysignificant fact: that she and Alfred Inglethorp were cousins.She could not have committed the crime single-handed, but thereasons against that did not debar her from being an accomplice.And, then, there was that rather over-vehement hatred of hers! Itconcealed a very opposite emotion. There was, undoubtedly, a tieof passion between them long before he came to Styles. They hadalready arranged their infamous plot--that he should marry thisrich, but rather foolish old lady, induce her to make a willleaving her money to him, and then gain their ends by a verycleverly conceived crime. If all had gone as they planned, theywould probably have left England, and lived together on theirpoor victim's money."They are a very astute and unscrupulous pair. While suspicionwas to be directed against him, she would be making quietpreparations for a very different denouement. She arrives fromMiddlingham with all the compromising items in her possession.No suspicion attaches to her. No notice is paid to her comingand going in the house. She hides the strychnine and glasses inJohn's room. She puts the beard in the attic. She will see toit that sooner or later they are duly discovered.""I don't quite see why they tried to fix the blame on John," Iremarked. "It would have been much easier for them to bring thecrime home to Lawrence.""Yes, but that was mere chance. All the evidence against himarose out of pure accident. It must, in fact, have beendistinctly annoying to the pair of schemers.""His manner was unfortunate," I observed thoughtfully."Yes. You realize, of course, what was at the back of that?""No.""You did not understand that he believed Mademoiselle Cynthiaguilty of the crime?""No," I exclaimed, astonished. "Impossible!""Not at all. I myself nearly had the same idea. It was in mymind when I asked Mr. Wells that first question about the will.Then there were the bromide powders which she had made up, andher clever male impersonations, as Dorcas recounted them to us.There was really more evidence against her than anyone else.""You are joking, Poirot!""No. Shall I tell you what made Monsieur Lawrence turn so palewhen he first entered his mother's room on the fatal night? Itwas because, whilst his mother lay there, obviously poisoned, hesaw, over your shoulder, that the door into MademoiselleCynthia's room was unbolted.""But he declared that he saw it bolted!" I cried."Exactly," said Poirot dryly. "And that was just what confirmedmy suspicion that it was not. He was shielding MademoiselleCynthia.""But why should he shield her?""Because he is in love with her."I laughed."There, Poirot, you are quite wrong! I happen to know for a factthat, far from being in love with her, he positively dislikesher.""Who told you that, mon ami?""Cynthia herself.""La pauvre petite! And she was concerned?""She said that she did not mind at all.""Then she certainly did mind very much," remarked Poirot. "Theyare like that--les femmes!""What you say about Lawrence is a great surprise to me," I said."But why? It was most obvious. Did not Monsieur Lawrence makethe sour face every time Mademoiselle Cynthia spoke and laughedwith his brother? He had taken it into his long head thatMademoiselle Cynthia was in love with Monsieur John. When heentered his mother's room, and saw her obviously poisoned, hejumped to the conclusion that Mademoiselle Cynthia knew somethingabout the matter. He was nearly driven desperate. First hecrushed the coffee-cup to powder under his feet, remembering thatshe had gone up with his mother the night before, and hedetermined that there should be no chance of testing itscontents. Thenceforward, he strenuously, and quite uselessly,upheld the theory of 'Death from natural causes'.""And what about the 'extra coffee-cup'?""I was fairly certain that it was Mrs. Cavendish who had hiddenit, but I had to make sure. Monsieur Lawrence did not know atall what I meant; but, on reflection, he came to the conclusionthat if he could find an extra coffee-cup anywhere his lady lovewould be cleared of suspicion. And he was perfectly right.""One thing more. What did Mrs. Inglethorp mean by her dyingwords?""They were, of course, an accusation against her husband.""Dear me, Poirot," I said with a sigh, "I think you haveexplained everything. I am glad it has all ended so happily.Even John and his wife are reconciled.""Thanks to me.""How do you mean--thanks to you?""My dear friend, do you not realize that it was simply and solelythe trial which has brought them together again? That JohnCavendish still loved his wife, I was convinced. Also, that shewas equally in love with him. But they had drifted very farapart. It all arose from a misunderstanding. She married himwithout love. He knew it. He is a sensitive man in his way, hewould not force himself upon her if she did not want him. And,as he withdrew, her love awoke. But they are both unusuallyproud, and their pride held them inexorably apart. He driftedinto an entanglement with Mrs. Raikes, and she deliberatelycultivated the friendship of Dr. Bauerstein. Do you remember theday of John Cavendish's arrest, when you found me deliberatingover a big decision?""Yes, I quite understood your distress.""Pardon me, mon ami, but you did not understand it in the least.I was trying to decide whether or not I would clear JohnCavendish at once. I could have cleared him--though it mighthave meant a failure to convict the real criminals. They wereentirely in the dark as to my real attitude up to the very lastmoment--which partly accounts for my success.""Do you mean that you could have saved John Cavendish from beingbrought to trial?""Yes, my friend. But I eventually decided in favour of 'awoman's happiness'. Nothing but the great danger through whichthey have passed could have brought these two proud soulstogether again."I looked at Poirot in silent amazement. The colossal cheek ofthe little man! Who on earth but Poirot would have thought of atrial for murder as a restorer of conjugal happiness!"I perceive your thoughts, mon ami," said Poirot, smiling at me."No one but Hercule Poirot would have attempted such a thing! Andyou are wrong in condemning it. The happiness of one man and onewoman is the greatest thing in all the world."His words took me back to earlier events. I remembered Mary asshe lay white and exhausted on the sofa, listening, listening.There had come the sound of the bell below. She had started up.Poirot had opened the door, and meeting her agonized eyes hadnodded gently. "Yes, madame," he said. "I have brought him backto you." He had stood aside, and as I went out I had seen thelook in Mary's eyes, as John Cavendish had caught his wife in hisarms."Perhaps you are right, Poirot," I said gently. "Yes, it is thegreatest thing in the world."Suddenly, there was a tap at the door, and Cynthia peeped in."I--I only----""Come in," I said, springing up.She came in, but did not sit down."I--only wanted to tell you something----""Yes?"Cynthia fidgeted with a little tassel for some moments, then,suddenly exclaiming: "You dears!" kissed first me and thenPoirot, and rushed out of the room again."What on earth does this mean?" I asked, surprised.It was very nice to be kissed by Cynthia, but the publicity ofthe salute rather impaired the pleasure."It means that she has discovered Monsieur Lawrence does notdislike her as much as she thought," replied Poirotphilosophically."But----""Here he is."Lawrence at that moment passed the door."Eh! Monsieur Lawrence," called Poirot. "We must congratulateyou, is it not so?"Lawrence blushed, and then smiled awkwardly. A man in love is asorry spectacle. Now Cynthia had looked charming.I sighed."What is it, mon ami?""Nothing," I said sadly. "They are two delightful women!""And neither of them is for you?" finished Poirot. "Never mind.Console yourself, my friend. We may hunt together again, whoknows? And then----"