CHAPTER XIII. POIROT EXPLAINS
"Poirot, you old villain," I said, "I've half a mind to strangle you!What do you mean by deceiving me as you have done?"
We were sitting in the library. Several hectic days lay behind us. Inthe room below, John and Mary were together once more, while AlfredInglethorp and Miss Howard were in custody. Now at last, I had Poirot tomyself, and could relieve my still burning curiosity.
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 to deceiveyourself."
"Yes, but why?"
"Well, it is difficult to explain. You see, my friend, you have a natureso honest, and a countenance so transparent, that--_enfin_, to concealyour feelings is impossible! If I had told you my ideas, the very firsttime you saw Mr. Alfred Inglethorp that astute gentleman would have--inyour so expressive idiom--'smelt a rat'! And then, _bonjour_ 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 enrage yourself!Your help has been of the most invaluable. It is but the extremelybeautiful nature that you have, which made me pause."
"Well," I grumbled, a little mollified. "I still think you might havegiven me a hint."
"But I did, my friend. Several hints. You would not take them. Thinknow, did I ever say to you that I believed John Cavendish guilty? DidI not, on the contrary, tell you that he would almost certainly beacquitted?"
"Yes, but----"
"And did I not immediately afterwards speak of the difficulty ofbringing the murderer to justice? Was it not plain to you that I wasspeaking of two entirely different persons?"
"No," I said, "it was not plain to me!"
"Then again," continued Poirot, "at the beginning, did I not repeat toyou several times that I didn't want Mr. Inglethorp arrested _now_? Thatshould 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'sdeath, her husband would benefit the most. There was no getting awayfrom that. When I went up to Styles with you that first day, I had noidea as to how the crime had been committed, but from what I knew ofMr. Inglethorp I fancied that it would be very hard to find anything toconnect him with it. When I arrived at the chateau, I realized at oncethat it was Mrs. Inglethorp who had burnt the will; and there, by theway, you cannot complain, my friend, for I tried my best to force on youthe 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 guilt werevery much shaken. There was, in fact, so much evidence against him thatI was inclined to believe that he had not done it."
"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 discovered thatInglethorp had nothing to do with Mrs. Raikes and that in fact it wasJohn Cavendish who was interested in that quarter, I was quite sure."
"But why?"
"Simply this. If it had been Inglethorp who was carrying on an intriguewith Mrs. Raikes, his silence was perfectly comprehensible. But, when Idiscovered that it was known all over the village that it was John whowas attracted by the farmer's pretty wife, his silence bore quite adifferent interpretation. It was nonsense to pretend that he wasafraid of the scandal, as no possible scandal could attach to him. Thisattitude of his gave me furiously to think, and I was slowly forced tothe conclusion that Alfred Inglethorp wanted to be arrested. _Ehbien!_ from that moment, I was equally determined that he should not bearrested."
"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 wasclever--his idea! Assuredly, he is a man of method. See here, he knewthat in his position he was bound to be suspected, so he conceived theexceedingly clever idea of preparing a lot of manufactured evidenceagainst himself. He wished to be arrested. He would then produce hisirreproachable alibi--and, hey presto, he was safe for life!"
"But I still don't see how he managed to prove his alibi, and yet go tothe chemist's shop?"
Poirot stared at me in surprise.
"Is it possible? My poor friend! You have not yet realized that it wasMiss Howard who went to the chemist's shop?"
"Miss Howard?"
"But, certainly. Who else? It was most easy for her. She is of agood height, her voice is deep and manly; moreover, remember, she andInglethorp are cousins, and there is a distinct resemblance betweenthem, 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 bromide business wasdone," I remarked.
"_Bon!_ I will reconstruct for you as far as possible. I am inclined tothink that Miss Howard was the master mind in that affair. You rememberher once mentioning that her father was a doctor? Possibly she dispensedhis medicines for him, or she may have taken the idea from one of themany books lying about when Mademoiselle Cynthia was studying for herexam. Anyway, she was familiar with the fact that the addition of abromide to a mixture containing strychnine would cause the precipitationof the latter. Probably the idea came to her quite suddenly. Mrs.Inglethorp had a box of bromide powders, which she occasionally tookat night. What could be easier than quietly to dissolve one or more ofthose powders in Mrs. Inglethorp's large sized bottle of medicine whenit came from Coot's? The risk is practically nil. The tragedy will nottake place until nearly a fortnight later. If anyone has seen either ofthem touching the medicine, they will have forgotten it by that time.Miss Howard will have engineered her quarrel, and departed from thehouse. The lapse of time, and her absence, will defeat all suspicion.Yes, it was a clever idea! If they had left it alone, it is possiblethe crime might never have been brought home to them. But they were notsatisfied. They tried to be too clever--and that was their undoing."
Poirot puffed at his tiny cigarette, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"They arranged a plan to throw suspicion on John Cavendish, by buyingstrychnine at the village chemist's, and signing the register in hishand-writing.
"On Monday Mrs. Inglethorp will take the last dose of her medicine. OnMonday, therefore, at six o'clock, Alfred Inglethorp arranges to beseen by a number of people at a spot far removed from the village. MissHoward has previously made up a cock and bull story about him and Mrs.Raikes to account for his holding his tongue afterwards. At six o'clock,Miss Howard, disguised as Alfred Inglethorp, enters the chemist's shop,with her story about a dog, obtains the strychnine, and writes the nameof Alfred Inglethorp in John's handwriting, which she had previouslystudied carefully.
"But, as it will never do if John, too, can prove an alibi, she writeshim an anonymous note--still copying his hand-writing--which takes himto a remote spot where it is exceedingly unlikely that anyone will seehim.
"So far, all goes well. Miss Howard goes back to Middlingham. AlfredInglethorp returns to Styles. There is nothing that can compromise himin any way, since it is Miss Howard who has the strychnine, which, afterall, is only wanted as a blind to throw suspicion on John Cavendish.
"But now a hitch occurs. Mrs. Inglethorp does not take her medicinethat night. The broken bell, Cynthia's absence--arranged by Inglethorpthrough his wife--all these are wasted. And then--he makes his slip.
"Mrs. Inglethorp is out, and he sits down to write to his accomplice,who, he fears, may be in a panic at the nonsuccess of their plan. It isprobable that Mrs. Inglethorp returned earlier than he expected. Caughtin the act, and somewhat flurried he hastily shuts and locks his desk.He fears that if he remains in the room he may have to open it again,and that Mrs. Inglethorp might catch sight of the letter before he couldsnatch it up. So he goes out and walks in the woods, little dreamingthat Mrs. Ingl
ethorp will open his desk, and discover the incriminatingdocument.
"But this, as we know, is what happened. Mrs. Inglethorp reads it, andbecomes aware of the perfidy of her husband and Evelyn Howard, though,unfortunately, the sentence about the bromides conveys no warning toher mind. She knows that she is in danger--but is ignorant of where thedanger lies. She decides to say nothing to her husband, but sits downand writes to her solicitor, asking him to come on the morrow, and shealso determines to destroy immediately the will which she has just made.She keeps the fatal letter."
"It was to discover that letter, then, that her husband forced the lockof the despatch-case?"
"Yes, and from the enormous risk he ran we can see how fully he realizedits importance. That letter excepted, there was absolutely nothing toconnect him with the crime."
"There's only one thing I can't make out, why didn't he destroy it atonce when he got hold of it?"
"Because he did not dare take the biggest risk of all--that of keepingit on his own person."
"I don't understand."
"Look at it from his point of view. I have discovered that there wereonly five short minutes in which he could have taken it--the fiveminutes immediately before our own arrival on the scene, for beforethat time Annie was brushing the stairs, and would have seen anyone whopassed going to the right wing. Figure to yourself the scene! He entersthe room, unlocking the door by means of one of the other doorkeys--theywere all much alike. He hurries to the despatch-case--it is locked, andthe keys are nowhere to be seen. That is a terrible blow to him, for itmeans that his presence in the room cannot be concealed as he had hoped.But he sees clearly that everything must be risked for the sake of thatdamning piece of evidence. Quickly, he forces the lock with a penknife,and turns over the papers until he finds what he is looking for.
"But now a fresh dilemma arises: he dare not keep that piece of paper onhim. He may be seen leaving the room--he may be searched. If the paperis found on him, it is certain doom. Probably, at this minute, too, hehears the sounds below of Mr. Wells and John leaving the boudoir. Hemust act quickly. Where can he hide this terrible slip of paper? Thecontents of the waste-paper-basket are kept and in any case, are sure tobe examined. There are no means of destroying it; and he dare not keepit. He looks round, and he sees--what do you think, _mon ami?_"
I shook my head.
"In a moment, he has torn the letter into long thin strips, and rollingthem up into spills he thrusts them hurriedly in amongst the otherspills in the vase on the mantle-piece."
I uttered an exclamation.
"No one would think of looking there," Poirot continued. "And he willbe able, at his leisure, to come back and destroy this solitary piece ofevidence against him."
"Then, all the time, it was in the spill vase in Mrs. Inglethorp'sbedroom, under our very noses?" I cried.
Poirot nodded.
"Yes, my friend. That is where I discovered my 'last link,' and I owethat 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 that earlier inthe morning, when we had been there together, I had straightened allthe objects on the mantel-piece. And, if they were already straightened,there would be no need to straighten them again, unless, in themeantime, someone else had touched them."
"Dear me," I murmured, "so that is the explanation of your extraordinarybehaviour. You rushed down to Styles, and found it still there?"
"Yes, and it was a race for time."
"But I still can't understand why Inglethorp was such a fool as to leaveit there when he had plenty of opportunity to destroy it."
"Ah, but he had no opportunity. I saw to that."
"You?"
"Yes. Do you remember reproving me for taking the household into myconfidence on the subject?"
"Yes."
"Well, my friend, I saw there was just one chance. I was not sure thenif Inglethorp was the criminal or not, but if he was I reasoned that hewould not have the paper on him, but would have hidden it somewhere, andby enlisting the sympathy of the household I could effectually preventhis destroying it. He was already under suspicion, and by making thematter public I secured the services of about ten amateur detectives,who would be watching him unceasingly, and being himself aware of theirwatchfulness he would not dare seek further to destroy the document. Hewas therefore forced to depart from the house, leaving it in the spillvase."
"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 until JohnCavendish was safely convicted they neither of them dared risk ameeting. Of course I had a watch kept on Mr. Inglethorp, hoping thatsooner or later he would lead me to the hiding-place. But he was tooclever to take any chances. The paper was safe where it was; since noone had thought of looking there in the first week, it was not likelythey would do so afterwards. But for your lucky remark, we might neverhave been able to bring him to justice."
"I understand that now; but when did you first begin to suspect MissHoward?"
"When I discovered that she had told a lie at the inquest about theletter 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 very distinctivehand, and left large clear spaces between her words. But if you look atthe date at the top of the letter you will notice that 'July 17th' isquite different in this respect. Do you see what I mean?"
"No," I confessed, "I don't."
"You do not see that that letter was not written on the 17th, but onthe 7th--the day after Miss Howard's departure? The '1' was written inbefore the '7' to turn it into the '17th'."
"But why?"
"That is exactly what I asked myself. Why does Miss Howard suppress theletter written on the 17th, and produce this faked one instead? Becauseshe did not wish to show the letter of the 17th. Why, again? And at oncea suspicion dawned in my mind. You will remember my saying that it waswise to beware of people who were not telling you the truth."
"And yet," I cried indignantly, "after that, you gave me two reasons whyMiss Howard could not have committed the crime!"
"And very good reasons too," replied Poirot. "For a long time they werea stumbling-block to me until I remembered a very significant fact: thatshe and Alfred Inglethorp were cousins. She could not have committed thecrime single-handed, but the reasons against that did not debar herfrom being an accomplice. And, then, there was that rather over-vehementhatred of hers! It concealed a very opposite emotion. There was,undoubtedly, a tie of passion between them long before he came toStyles. They had already arranged their infamous plot--that he shouldmarry this rich, but rather foolish old lady, induce her to make a willleaving her money to him, and then gain their ends by a very cleverlyconceived crime. If all had gone as they planned, they would probablyhave left England, and lived together on their poor victim's money.
"They are a very astute and unscrupulous pair. While suspicion was to bedirected against him, she would be making quiet preparations for avery different _dénouement_. She arrives from Middlingham with all thecompromising items in her possession. No suspicion attaches to her.No notice is paid to her coming and going in the house. She hides thestrychnine and glasses in John's room. She puts the beard in the attic.She will see to it that sooner or later they are duly discovered."
"I don't quite see why they tried to fix the blame on John," I remarked."It would have been much easier for them to bring the crime home toLawrence."
"Yes, but that was mere chance. All the evidence against him arose outof pure accident. It must, i
n fact, have been distinctly annoying to thepair 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 Cynthia guilty ofthe crime?"
"No," I exclaimed, astonished. "Impossible!"
"Not at all. I myself nearly had the same idea. It was in my mind when Iasked Mr. Wells that first question about the will. Then there werethe bromide powders which she had made up, and her clever maleimpersonations, as Dorcas recounted them to us. There was really moreevidence against her than anyone else."
"You are joking, Poirot!"
"No. Shall I tell you what made Monsieur Lawrence turn so pale whenhe first entered his mother's room on the fatal night? It was because,whilst his mother lay there, obviously poisoned, he saw, over yourshoulder, that the door into Mademoiselle Cynthia's room was unbolted."
"But he declared that he saw it bolted!" I cried.
"Exactly," said Poirot dryly. "And that was just what confirmed mysuspicion that it was not. He was shielding Mademoiselle Cynthia."
"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 fact that,far from being in love with her, he positively dislikes her."
"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. "They are likethat--_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 make the sourface every time Mademoiselle Cynthia spoke and laughed with his brother?He had taken it into his long head that Mademoiselle Cynthia was inlove with Monsieur John. When he entered his mother's room, and sawher obviously poisoned, he jumped to the conclusion that MademoiselleCynthia knew something about the matter. He was nearly driven desperate.First he crushed the coffee-cup to powder under his feet, rememberingthat _she_ had gone up with his mother the night before, and hedetermined that there should be no chance of testing its contents.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 hidden it, butI had to make sure. Monsieur Lawrence did not know at all what I meant;but, on reflection, he came to the conclusion that if he could find anextra coffee-cup anywhere his lady love would be cleared of suspicion.And he was perfectly right."
"One thing more. What did Mrs. Inglethorp mean by her dying words?"
"They were, of course, an accusation against her husband."
"Dear me, Poirot," I said with a sigh, "I think you have explainedeverything. I am glad it has all ended so happily. Even John and hiswife are reconciled."
"Thanks to me."
"How do you mean--thanks to you?"
"My dear friend, do you not realize that it was simply and solely thetrial which has brought them together again? That John Cavendish stillloved his wife, I was convinced. Also, that she was equally in lovewith him. But they had drifted very far apart. It all arose from amisunderstanding. She married him without love. He knew it. He is asensitive man in his way, he would not force himself upon her if shedid not want him. And, as he withdrew, her love awoke. But they are bothunusually proud, and their pride held them inexorably apart. He driftedinto an entanglement with Mrs. Raikes, and she deliberately cultivatedthe friendship of Dr. Bauerstein. Do you remember the day of JohnCavendish's arrest, when you found me deliberating over a big decision?"
"Yes, I quite understood your distress."
"Pardon me, _mon ami_, but you did not understand it in the least. I wastrying to decide whether or not I would clear John Cavendish at once. Icould have cleared him--though it might have meant a failure to convictthe real criminals. They were entirely in the dark as to my realattitude up to the very last moment--which partly accounts for mysuccess."
"Do you mean that you could have saved John Cavendish from being broughtto trial?"
"Yes, my friend. But I eventually decided in favour of 'a woman'shappiness'. Nothing but the great danger through which they have passedcould have brought these two proud souls together again."
I looked at Poirot in silent amazement. The colossal cheek of the littleman! Who on earth but Poirot would have thought of a trial for murder asa restorer of conjugal happiness!
"I perceive your thoughts, _mon ami_," said Poirot, smiling at me. "Noone but Hercule Poirot would have attempted such a thing! And you arewrong in condemning it. The happiness of one man and one woman is thegreatest thing in all the world."
His words took me back to earlier events. I remembered Mary as she laywhite and exhausted on the sofa, listening, listening. There had comethe sound of the bell below. She had started up. Poirot had opened thedoor, and meeting her agonized eyes had nodded gently. "Yes, madame,"he said. "I have brought him back to you." He had stood aside, and asI went out I had seen the look in Mary's eyes, as John Cavendish hadcaught his wife in his arms.
"Perhaps you are right, Poirot," I said gently. "Yes, it is the greatestthing 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, suddenlyexclaiming: "You dears!" kissed first me and then Poirot, and rushed outof the room again.
"What on earth does this mean?" I asked, surprised.
It was very nice to be kissed by Cynthia, but the publicity of thesalute rather impaired the pleasure.
"It means that she has discovered Monsieur Lawrence does not dislike heras much as she thought," replied Poirot philosophically.
"But----"
"Here he is."
Lawrence at that moment passed the door.
"Eh! Monsieur Lawrence," called Poirot. "We must congratulate you, is itnot so?"
Lawrence blushed, and then smiled awkwardly. A man in love is a sorryspectacle. 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, who knows? Andthen----"
THE END
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