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[Assistant] Every now and then, Superintendent Battle made a mental note.


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[Assistant] Later, a cryptic word or two was jotted down in his little book.


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[Assistant] At half past eight that evening, he walked up the path to the door of Wenden Cottage.


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[Assistant] It was opened to him by a tall, dark girl, wearing a frog of orange creton.


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[Assistant] Miss Meredith, live here? Inquired Superintendent Battle. He looked very wooden and soldierly. Yes, she does.


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[Assistant] I'd like to speak to her, please. Superintendent Battle. He was immediately favored with a piercing stare.


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[Assistant] Come in, said Rhoda Dawes, drawing back from the doorway.


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[Assistant] I, a bit late for a call, said Battle, but I wanted to find you in and, uh, it's been a fine day. Anne smiled. Will you have some coffee, Superintendent? Rhoda, fetch another cup. Well, it's very kind of you, Miss Meredith. We think we make rather good coffee, said Anne. She indicated a chair, and Superintendent Battle sat down. Rhoda brought a cup, and Anne poured out his coffee. The fire crackled.


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[Assistant] And the other girl continued to stare at him with devouring interest.


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[Assistant] We've been expecting you, said Anne. Her tone was almost reproachful. Why have you neglected me, it seemed to say. Uh, sorry, Miss Meredith, I've had a lot of routine work to do. Satisfactory? Oh, not particularly, but it all has to be done. I've turned Dr. Roberts inside out, so to speak, and the same for Mrs. Lorimer. And now, I've come to do the same for you.


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[Assistant] And smiled. I'm ready. What about Major Despair? asked Rhoda.


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[Assistant] Oh, he won't be overlooked. I can promise you that, said Battle. He set down his coffee cup and looked towards Anne. She sat up a little straighter in her chair. I'm quite ready, Superintendent. What do you want to know? Well, roughly all about yourself, Miss Meredith. I'm quite a respectable person, said Anne, smiling. She's led a blameless life, too, said Rhoda. I can answer for that.


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[Assistant] Well, that's very nice, said Superintendent Battle cheerfully. You've known Miss Meredith a long time then. We were at school together, said Rhodo. What ages ago, it seems, doesn't it, Anne?


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[Assistant] So long you can hardly remember it, I suppose, said Battle with a Chuckle. Now then, Miss Meredith.


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[Assistant] Superintendent Battle held up a slightly reproving hand. Now, now young lady, he said.


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[Assistant] Rhoda darling, said Anne gravely, it's serious this. Sorry, said Rhoda. Now, Miss Meredith, you were born where?


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[Assistant] At Quetta, in India. Ah, yes. Your people were army folk? Yes, my father was Major John Meredith. My mother died when I was eleven. Father retired when I was fifteen, and went to live in Cheltenham. He died when I was eighteen, and left practically no money. Battle nodded his head sympathetically. Bit of a shock to you, I expect. It was, rather. I always knew that we weren't well off.


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[Assistant] But to find there was practically nothing, well, that's different. Oh, what did you do, Miss Meredith? I had to take a job.


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[Assistant] I hadn't been particularly well educated, and I wasn't clever. I didn't know typing or shorthand or anything.


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[Assistant] A friend in Cheltenham found me a job with friends of hers, two small boys, home in the holidays, and general help in the house. Name, please?


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[Assistant] That was Mrs. Eldon, The Larches, Ventnor.


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[Assistant] I stayed there for two years, and then the Eldons went abroad. Then I went to a Mrs. Deering, my aunt, put in Rhoda. Yes, Rhoda got me the job.


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[Assistant] My aunt Emily is just mad on gardening. Anne spent most of her time weeding or putting in bulbs. And you left, Mrs. Dearing. Her health got worse and she had to have a regular nurse. She's got cancer, said Rhoda. Poor darling. She has to have morphia and things like that. She had been very kind to me. I was very sorry to go, went on Anne. I was looking about for a cottage, said Rhoda, and wanting someone to share it with me. Daddy's married again.


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[Assistant] That certainly seems a most blameless life, said Battle. Let's just get the dates clear. You were with Mrs. Eldon two years, you say. Oh, by the way, what is her address now? She's in Palestine. Her husband has some government appointment out there. I'm not sure what. Oh, well, I can soon find out. And after that, you went to Mrs. Dearing. I was with her three years.


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[Assistant] Now there's just one more thing. The name and address of a couple of people in Cheltenham who knew you and your father and supplied him with these


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[Assistant] Now, about this trip to Switzerland, where you met Mr. Shaitana, did you go there alone, or was Miss Dawes here with you? We went out together. We joined some other people. There was a party of eight. Tell me about your meeting with Mr. Shaitana. Anne crinkled her brows. There's really nothing to tell. He was just there. We knew him in the way you know people in a hotel. He got first prize at the Francie Dress Ball.


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[Assistant] Superintendent Battle sighed, yes, that was always his favorite effect.


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[Assistant] You see, our crowd was the skiing lot, and we were off doing runs most days and dancing together in the evenings. But then Shaytana seemed to take rather a fancy to Anne. You know, went out of his way to pay her compliments and all that. We ragged her about it rather. I just think he did it to annoy me, said Anne, because I didn't like him. I think it amused him to make me feel embarrassed. Rhoda said, laughing. We told Anne it would be a nice rich marriage for her. She got simply wild with us.


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[Assistant] Perhaps, said Battle, you'd give me the names of the other people in your party.


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[Assistant] You aren't what I call a trustful man, said Rhoda. Do you think that every word we're telling you is downright lies? Superintendent Battle twinkled. I'm going to make sure it isn't, anyway.


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[Assistant] She scribbled some names on a piece of paper and gave it to him.


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[Assistant] Well, uh, thank you very much, Miss Meredith, he said. As Miss Dawes says, you seem to have led a particularly blameless life. I don't think you need to worry much. It's odd the way Mr. Shaytana's manner changed you. You'll excuse my asking, but he didn't ask you to marry him or, uh,


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[Assistant] Pester you with attentions of, uh, another kind? He didn't try to seduce her, said Rhoda helpfully, if that's what you mean. Anne was blushing. Nothing of the kind, she said. He was always most polite and formal. It was just his elaborate manners that made me uncomfortable. And, uh, little things he said or hinted? Yes, at least no. He never hinted things.


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[Assistant] Sorry, these lady killers do sometimes. Well, good night, Ms. Meredith. Thank you very much. Excellent coffee. Good night, Ms. Dawes. There.


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[Assistant] Said Rhoda, as Anne came back into the room after shutting the door after battle. That's over, and not so very terrible. He's a nice fatherly man, and he evidently doesn't suspect you in the least. It was all ever so much better than I expected. Anne sank down with a sigh. It was really quite easy, she said. It was silly of me to work myself up so. I thought he'd try to browbeat me, like KC's on the stage. He looks sensible, said Rhoda.


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[Assistant] He'd know well enough you're not a murdering kind of female. She hesitated and then said, I say Anne, you didn't mention being at Croftways. Did you forget? Anne said slowly, I didn't think it counted. I was only there a few months and there's no one to ask about me there. I can write and tell him if you think it matters, but I'm sure it doesn't. Let's leave it. Right. If you say so.


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[Assistant] Rode a rose and turned on the wireless. A raucous voice said, You've just heard the Black Nubians play. Why do you tell me lies, baby?


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[Assistant] Major Despard came out of the Albany, turned sharply into Regent Street, and jumped on a bus. It was the quiet time of day. The top of the bus had very few seats occupied.


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[Assistant] Despair made his way forward and sat down on the front seat. He had jumped on the bus while it was going. Now it came to a halt.


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[Assistant] Took our passengers and made its way once more up Regent Street.


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[Assistant] A second traveler climbed the steps, made his way forward and sat down in the front seat on the other side. Despair did not notice the newcomer, but after a few minutes, a tentative voice murmured,


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[Assistant] It is a good view of London, is it not, that one gets from the top of a bus? Despair turned his head. He looked puzzled for a moment. Then his face cleared. Ah, I beg your pardon, Mr. Poirot. I didn't see it was you. Yes, as you say.


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[Assistant] One has a good bird's-eye view of the world from here. It was better there in the old days, when there wasn't all this caged-in glass business. Poirot sighed.


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[Assistant] It was not always agreeable in the wet weather when the inside was full and there is much wet weather in this country. Rain? Rain never did any harm to anyone.


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[Assistant] This bar smiled. I see you belong to the well-wrapped up school, Monsieur Poirot.


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[Assistant] Quarrow is indeed well equipped against any treachery of an autumn day. He wore a great coat and a muffler. Rather odd, running into you like this, said Lespa. He did not see the smile that the muffler concealed. There was nothing odd in this encounter.


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[Assistant] Having ascertained a likely hour for Despair to leave his rooms, Warro had been waiting for him.


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[Assistant] To run to and fro, to make the investigations that, no, it does not suit my age, my temperament, or my figure. Despair said unexpectedly. A reflect eh? Well you might do worse.


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[Assistant] Where have the pros and cons? Make your decision, stick to it. His mouth set grimly.


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[Assistant] And after that, nothing will turn you from your path, ehm? asked Poirot.


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[Assistant] Oh, I don't say that. No use in being pig-headed over things. If you've made a mistake, admit it. But I imagine that you do not often make a mistake, Monsieur Despard. We all make mistakes, Monsieur Poirot.


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[Assistant] Some of us, said Poirot, with a certain coldness, possibly due to the pronoun the other had used, make less than others. Despair looked at him, smiled slightly, and said, Don't you ever have a failure, Mr. Poirot? The last time was 28 years ago.


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[Assistant] That doesn't count I suppose, since it isn't officially your business.


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[Assistant] It is not my business, no, but all the same it offends my amor prop.


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[Assistant] I consider it an impertinence, you comprehend, for a murder to be committed under my very nose by someone who mocks himself at my ability to solve it. Not under your nose only.


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[Assistant] said the spar dryly, under the nose of the criminal investigation department also.


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[Assistant] That was probably a bad mistake, said Poirot gravely. The good superintendent battle?


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[Assistant] He may look wooden, but he is not wooden in the head. Not at all.


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[Assistant] I agree, said Despard. That's solidity as a pose. He's a very clever and able officer. And I think he is very active in the case. Oh, he's active enough.


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[Assistant] See a nice, quiet, soldierly-looking fellow on one of the back seats? Quirrell looked over his shoulder. There is no one here now but ourselves. Oh well, he's inside then. He never loses.


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[Assistant] Very efficient fellow, varies his appearance too from time to time. Quite artistic about it. Ah, but that would not deceive you. You have the very quick and accurate eye.


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[Assistant] I never forget a face. And that's a lot more than most people can say.


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[Assistant] You are just the person I need, said Poirot. What a chance meeting you today. I need someone with a good eye and a good memory. Malheureusement, the two seldom go together. I have asked the Dr. Roberts a question. Without result. And the same with Madame Lorema.


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[Assistant] Now, I will try you, and see if I get what I want.


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[Assistant] It was a rotten sort of room, to my mind. Not a man's room at all.


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[Assistant] Two Bokaras and three or four really good Persian ones, including a Hamadan and a Tabriz.


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[Assistant] You do not think that the late Mr. Shaitana was one to go out and shoot wild beasts? Not he. Never potted anything but sitting game, Albert. What else was?


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[Assistant] Sorry to fail you, but I really can't help much. Any amount of knickknacks lying about?


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[Assistant] One where I could have got game in diamonds, and Roberts bluffed me out of it. Went down himself, but we didn't double him. Worse luck.


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[Assistant] I remember, I know Trumper too, tricky business. Every card wrong. We went down a couple. Lucky not to have gone down more. Do you play much, Bridge, Major Despair? No, I'm not a regular player. It's a good game, though. You prefer it to poker? I do, personally. Poker's too much of a gamble. Quarrow said thoughtfully, I do not think Mr. Sheetana played any game. Any card game, that is.


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[Assistant] There's only one game the Chaitana played consistently, said Despair grimly. And that? A low down game. Quarro was silent for a minute, then he said, Is it that you know that?


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[Assistant] Or you just think it. This bar went brick red.


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[Assistant] Meaning one oughtn't to say things without giving chatter and verse. I suppose that's true. Well, it's accurate enough. I happen to know.


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[Assistant] On the other hand, I'm not prepared to give chapter and verse. Such information as I've got came to me privately. Meaning a woman or women are concerned. Yes.


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[Assistant] Sheetana was a blackmailer, but not the commoner garden sort. He wasn't after money. He was a spiritual blackmailer, if there can be such a thing.


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[Assistant] What? He got a kick out of it. That's the only way I can put it.


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[Assistant] He got a thrill out of seeing people quail and flinch.


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[Assistant] I suppose it made him feel less of a louse, more of a man. And it's a very effective pose with women.


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[Assistant] He'd only got to hint that he knew everything, and they'd start telling him a lot of things that perhaps he didn't know. That would tickle his sense of humor.


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[Assistant] Then he'd strut about in his Mephistophelian attitude of, I know everything. I am the great Shaytana. The man was an ape.


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[Assistant] So you think that he frightened Miss Meredith that way? said Poirot slowly. Miss Meredith? Despair stared. I wasn't thinking of her. She isn't the kind to be afraid of a man like Sheetana.


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[Assistant] No. You misunderstand me. I was speaking generally. It wouldn't be easy to frighten Mrs. Lorimer.


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[Assistant] She's not the kind of woman where you can imagine having a guilty secret. No, I was not thinking of anyone in particular. It was the general method to which you referred. Exactly.


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[Assistant] There is no doubt, said Poirot slowly, that what you call a dego often has a very clever understanding of women. He knows how to approach them. He worms secrets out of them. He paused. Despair broke in impatiently. It's absurd. The man was a mountebank.


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[Assistant] Got too interested in what we were discussing. Goodbye, Mr. Poirot.


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[Assistant] Look down and you'll see my faithful shadow leaving the bus when I do. He hurried to the back and down the steps. The conductor's bell jangled, but a double pull sounded before it had time to stop.


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[Assistant] Looking down to the street below, Poirot noticed Despard striding back along the pavement. He did not trouble to pick out the following figure. Something else was interesting him. No one in particular, he murmured to himself. Now I wonder.


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[Assistant] Chapter 16. The Evidence of Elsie Batt.


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[Assistant] It was less the regularity of his features than the roguish and daredevil spark in his eye which made him so irresistible to the fair sex.


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[Assistant] It was indubitable that Sergeant O'Connor got results and got them quickly.


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[Assistant] So rapid was he that only four days after the murder of Mr. Shaitana, Sergeant O'Connor was sitting in the three and six-mini seats at the Willy Nilly Revue side-by-side with Miss Elsie Batt, late parlor maid, to Mrs. Craddock of 117 North Audley Street.


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[Assistant] Having laid his line of approach carefully, Sergeant O'Connor was just launching the great offensive. Reminds me.


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[Assistant] He was saying, of the way one of my old governors used to carry on, name of Cradock. He was an old cuss, if you like. Cradock, said Elsie. I was with some Cradocks once. Well, that's funny. Wonder whether they were the same. Lived in North Audley Street, they did, said Elsie. My lot were going to London when I left them, said O'Connor promptly. Yes, I believe it was North Audley Street.


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[Assistant] Mrs. Craddock was rather a one for the gents. Elsie tossed her head.


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[Assistant] I had no patience with her, always finding fault and grumbling. Nothing you did right. Her husband got some of it too, didn't he?


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[Assistant] She was always complaining he neglected her, that he didn't understand her, and she was always saying how bad her health was, and gasping and groaning, not ill at all if you ask me. O'Connor slapped his knee.


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[Assistant] Wasn't there something about her and some doctor? A bit too thick or something?


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[Assistant] Oh, you mean Dr. Roberts. He was a nice gentleman, he was.


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[Assistant] Wasn't his fault, was it? If Mrs. Craddock was always sending for him. What's a doctor to do?


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[Assistant] If you ask me, he didn't think nothing of her at all, except as a patient. It was all her doing. Wouldn't leave him alone, she wouldn't. That's all very well, Elsie.


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[Assistant] Don't mind me calling you Elsie, do you? Feel as though I've known you all me life. Well you haven't! Elsie indeed!


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[Assistant] She tossed her head. Oh very well, Miss Bat. He gave her a glance.


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[Assistant] As I was saying, that's all very well, but the husband, he caught up rough all the same, didn't he? He was a bit ratty one day, admitted Elsie, but if you ask me, he was ill at the time. He died just after, you know. And remember, died of something queer, didn't he?


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[Assistant] Something Japanese it was. All from a new shaving brush he'd got. Seems awful doesn't it? That they're not more careful. I've not fancied anything Japanese since.


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[Assistant] Buy British, that's my motto, said Sergeant O'Connor, sententiously.


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[Assistant] Well of course, I wasn't supposed to hear. It was all in the Mrs's bedroom. I thought something was up.


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[Assistant] So I got the dustpan and did the stairs. I wasn't going to miss anything. Sergeant O'Connor heartily concurred in the sentiment.


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[Assistant] Reflecting how fortunate it was that Elsie was being approached unofficially.


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[Assistant] On interrogation by Sergeant O'Connor of the police, she would have virtuously protested that she had not overheard anything at all.


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[Assistant] As I say, went on Elsie, Dr. Roberts, he was very quiet. The master was doing all the shouting. What was he saying? asked O'Connor for the second time approaching the vital point. Abusing of improper, said Elsie with relish. How do you mean? Would the girl never come to actual words and phrases? Well, I don't understand a lot of it, admitted Elsie.


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[Assistant] There were a lot of long words, unprofessional conduct, and taking advantage, and things like that. And I heard him say he'd get Dr. Roberts struck off the, uh,


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[Assistant] Uh, medical register, would it be? Something like that. That's right, said O'Connor. Complained to the medical council. Yeah, he said something like that.


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[Assistant] And the missus was going on in sort of hysterics saying, you never cared for me, you neglected me, you left me alone. And I heard her say that Dr Roberts had been an angel of goodness to her.


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[Assistant] And then the doctor, he came through into the dressing room with the master and shut the door of the bedroom, and he said quite plain, My good man, don't you realize your wife's hysterical? She doesn't know what she's saying. To tell you the truth,


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[Assistant] It's been a very difficult and trying case, and I'd have thrown it up long ago if I thought it was con- con- con- some long word. Oh yeah, consistent.


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[Assistant] That was it. Consistent with my duty. That's what he said. He said something about not overstepping a boundary, too. Something between doctor and patient. He got the master quietened a bit, and then he said, You'll be late at the office, you know. You better be off.


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[Assistant] Just think things over quietly. I think you'll realize that the old business is a mare's nest.


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[Assistant] I'll just wash my hands here before I go onto my next case.


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[Assistant] Now you think it over, my dear fellow. I can assure you that the old thing arises out of your wife's disordered imagination. And the master, he said, I don't know what to think. And he come out.


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[Assistant] And of course, I was brushing hard, but he never even noticed me. I thought afterwards he looked ill.


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[Assistant] The doctor, he was whistling quite cheerily and washing his hands in the dressing room where there was hot and cold laid on.


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[Assistant] And presently, he come out, with his bag, and he spoke to me very nicely and cheerily as he always did.


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[Assistant] And he went down the stairs, quite cheerful and gay, as his usual self. So you see, I'm quite sure, as he hadn't done anything wrong, it was all her. And then, Craddock got this anthrax. Yeaah, I think he got it already. The mistress, she nursed him, very devoted, but he died. Lovely wreaths there was at the funeral. And afterwards, did Dr. Roberts come to the house again? No, he didn't. No, zee. You've got some grudge against him.


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[Assistant] If there were, he'd have married her when the master was dead, wouldn't he? And he never did. No such fool.


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[Assistant] He'd taken her measure alright. She used to ring him up though, but somehow he was never in.


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[Assistant] And then, she sold the house, and we all got our notices, and she went abroad to Egypt. And you didn't see Dr. Roberts in all that time? No, she did, cause she went to him to have this, uh, whatcha call it, inoculation against the typhoid fever. She came back with her arm ever so sore with it.


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[Assistant] If you ask me, he made it clear to her then, that there was nothing doing.


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[Assistant] She didn't ring him up no more, and she went off very cheerful with a lovely lot of new clothes, all light colors, although it was the middle of winter, but she said it would be all sunshine and not out there. That's right, said Sergeant O'Connor. It's too hot sometimes, I've heard. She died out there. You know that, I suppose. No, indeed I didn't. Well, fancy that. She may have been worse than I thought, poor soul, she added with a sigh.


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[Assistant] I wonder what they did with all that lovely lot of clothes. You'd have looked a treat in them, I expect," said Sergeant O'Connor.


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[Assistant] Well, you won't have my impedance much longer, said Sergeant O'Connor. I've got to go away on business for my firm. Are you going for long? Maybe going abroad, said the Sergeant. Elsie's face fell.


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[Assistant] Funny how all the really attractive ones never come to anything. Ah well, there's always Fred. Which is gratifying.


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[Assistant] Since it shows that the sudden incursion of Sergeant O'Connor into Elsie's life did not affect it permanently. Fred may even have been the gainer.


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[Assistant] Chapter 17 The Evidence of Rhoda Dawes


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[Assistant] Rhoda Dawes came out of Debenhams and stood meditatively upon the pavement. Indecision was written all over her face. It was an expressive face.


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[Assistant] A stout woman carrying parcels with an ego shopping early for Christmas expression on her face can end it to her severely, but still Rhoda stood stock still, trying to make up her mind. Chaotic odds and ends of thought flashed through her mind. After all, why shouldn't I? She asked me to, but perhaps it's just a thing she says to everyone. She doesn't mean it to be taken seriously. Well, after all, Anne didn't want me.


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[Assistant] She made it quite clear she'd rather go with Major Despair to the solicitor man alone. And why shouldn't she? I mean, three years a crowd. And it isn't really any business of mine. It isn't as though I particularly wanted to see Major Despair. He is nice, though. I think he must have fallen for Anne. Men don't take a lot of trouble unless they have. I mean, it's never just kindness. A messenger boy bumped into Rhoda and said, beg pardon, miss, in a reproachful tone.


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[Assistant] Poor Rhoda. I can't go on standing here all day, just because I'm such an idiot that I can't make up my mind. I think that coat and skirt's going to be awfully nice. I wonder if brown would have been more useful than green. No, I don't think so. Well, come on, shall I go or shan't I? Half past three. It's quite a good time. I mean, it doesn't look as though I'm catching a meal or anything. I might just go and look anyway. She plunged across the road, turned to the right, and then to the left up Harley Street.


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[Assistant] Finally pausing by the block of flats, always eerily described by Mrs. Oliver as all among the nursing homes.


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[Assistant] Well, she can't eat me, thought Rhoda, and plunged boldly into the building. Mrs. Oliver's flat was on the top floor.


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[Assistant] A uniformed attendant whisked her up in a lift and decanted her on a smart new mat outside a bright green door.


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[Assistant] Thought Rhoda. Worse than dentists. I must go through with it now, though. Pink with embarrassment, she pushed the bell. The door was opened by an elderly maid. Is, could I, is Mrs Oliver at home? Asked Rhoda. The maid drew back. Rhoda entered. She was shown into a very untidy drawing room. The maid said, What name shall I say, please? Oh, uh,


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[Assistant] Ms. Dawes. Ms. Rhoda Dawes. Made with Drew.


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[Assistant] Nervously, she entered into what seemed at first, to her startled eyes, to be an African forest. Birds. Masses of birds. Parrots. Macaws.


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[Assistant] Birds unknown to ornithology twine themselves in and out of what seem to be a primeval forest.


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[Assistant] In the middle of this riot of bird and vegetable life, Rhoda perceived a battered kitchen table with a typewriter on it, masses of typescript littered all over the floor, and Mrs. Oliver, her hair in wild confusion, rising from a somewhat rickety looking chair.


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[Assistant] My dear, how nice to see you, said Mrs. Oliver, holding out a carbon-stained hand and trying, with her other hand, to smooth her hair. A quite impossible proceeding.


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[Assistant] Rather breathless, Rhoda rose from a stooping position with five apples in her grasp.


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[Assistant] Oh, thank you. No, I shouldn't put them back in the bag. I think it's got a hole in it. Put them on the mantelpiece. That's right. Now then, sit down and let's talk.


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[Assistant] Rhoda accepted a second battered chair and focused her eyes on her hostess.


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[Assistant] I say I'm, I'm terribly sorry. Am I interrupting or anything? She asked breathlessly. Well, uh, you are, and you aren't.


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[Assistant] They might, of course, said Mrs. Oliver doubtfully, but it would rather spoil the point. I'm always getting tangled up in horticulture and things like that. People write to me and say I've got the wrong flowers all out together, as though it mattered. And anyway, they are all out together in a London shop. Of course it doesn't matter, said Rhoda loyally. Oh, Mrs. Oliver, it must be marvellous to write. Mrs. Oliver rubbed her forehead with a carbony finger and said, Why? Oh,


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[Assistant] Said Rhoda, a little taken aback, because it must.


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[Assistant] It must be wonderful just to sit down and write off a whole book.


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[Assistant] It doesn't exactly happen like that, Mrs. Oliver. One actually has to think, you know. And thinking is always a bore. And you have to plan things. And then one gets stuck every now and then. And you feel you'll never get out of the mess. But you do.


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[Assistant] Writing's not particularly enjoyable. It's hard work like everything else.


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[Assistant] I never imagined you actually typed your books yourself, said Rhoda. I thought you'd have a secretary.


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[Assistant] I did have a secretary, and I used to try and dictate to her, but she was so competent that it used to depress me.


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[Assistant] I felt she knew so much more about English and grammar and full stops and semicolons than I did, that it gave me a kind of inferiority complex. Then I tried having a thoroughly incompetent secretary, but of course that didn't answer very well either. It must be so wonderful to be able to think of things, said Rhoda. I can always think of things, said Mrs. Oliver happily.


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[Assistant] She was staring at Mrs. Oliver with the reverence felt by youth or celebrity, slightly tinged by disappointment. Do you like the wallpaper?


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[Assistant] But Sven Hursson breaks the ice in his bath every morning.


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[Assistant] Yes, she's gone with Major Despard to a solicitor. Solicitor, eh? Mrs. Oliver's eyebrows rose inquiringly.


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[Assistant] Yes. You see, Major Despard told her she ought to have one.


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[Assistant] She did seem very ungracious, but it wasn't that really. I mean, it wasn't your coming. It was something you said. Something I said? Yes. You couldn't tell, of course. It was just unfortunate. What did I say? I don't expect you remember even. It was just the way you put it. You said something about an accident and poison. Did I? I knew you'd probably not remember. Yes, you see, Anne had a ghastly experience once.


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[Assistant] She was in a house where a woman took some poison. Hat paint, I think it was, by mistake was something else. And she died. And of course, it was an awful shock to Anne. She can't bear thinking of it or speaking of it. And you're saying that reminded her, of course. And she dried up and got all stiff and queer like she does. And I saw you'd noticed it. And I couldn't say anything in front of her. But I did want you to know that it wasn't what you thought. She wasn't ungrateful.


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[Assistant] Mrs. Oliver looked at Rhoda's flushed, eager face. She said slowly, I see. Anne's awfully sensitive, said Rhoda, and she's bad about, well, facing things. If anything's upset her, she'd just rather not talk about it. Although that isn't any good, really. At least I don't think so. Things are there, just the same, whether you talk about them or not. It's only running away from them to pretend they don't exist. I'd rather have it all out, however painful it would be.


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[Assistant] The truth hurts sometimes and destroys one's illusions. I'd rather have it all the same, said Rhoda. So would I, but I don't know that we're wise, Rhoda said earnestly.


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[Assistant] Don't tell Anne, will you? What I've told you, she wouldn't like it. Oh, I certainly shouldn't dream of doing any such thing. Was this long ago? About four years ago. It's odd, isn't it? How the same things happen again and again to people. I had an aunt who was always in shipwrecks, and here's Anne mixed up in two sudden deaths.


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[Assistant] Would it bother you awfully if I sent one of your books to you? Would you sign it for me? Mrs. Oliver laughed. Oh, I can do better than that for you. She opened a cupboard at the far end of the room. Which would you like?


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[Assistant] I rather fancy the affair of the second goldfish myself. It's not quite such frightful tribe as the rest.


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[Assistant] A little shocked at hearing an authoress thus describe the children of her pen, Rhoda accepted eagerly.


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[Assistant] Mrs. Oliver took the book, opened it, inscribed her name with a superlative flourish and handed it to Rhoda.


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[Assistant] She murmured to herself as the door closed behind her guest.


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[Assistant] She shook her head, ruffled her hair, and returned to the masterly dealings of Sven Hjerson with the sage and onion stuffing.


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[Assistant] Mrs. Lorimer came out of a certain door in Harley Street.


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[Assistant] She bent her brows a little, as though to concentrate on some all absorbing problem.


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[Assistant] It was just then that she caught sight of Anne Meredith on the opposite pavement.


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[Assistant] Anne was standing staring up at a big block of flats just on the corner.


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[Assistant] Mrs. Lorimer hesitated a moment, then she crossed the road. How do you do, Miss Meredith? Anne started and turned. Oh, how do you do? Still in London? Said Mrs. Lorimer. No, uh, I've only come up for the day to do some legal business. Her eyes were still straying to the big block of flats. Mrs. Lorimer said, is anything the matter? Anne started guiltily. The matter?


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[Assistant] Oh, no. What should be the matter? You were looking as though you had something on your mind. I, I haven't. Well, at least I have, but it's nothing important. Something quite silly. She laughed a little. She went on. It's only that I thought I saw my friend, the girl I live with, go in there, and I wondered if she'd gone to see Mrs. Oliver. Is that where Mrs. Oliver lives? I didn't know.


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[Assistant] Yes, she came to see us the other day and she gave us her address and asked us to come and see her. I wondered if it was Rhoda I saw or not. Do you want to go up and see? No, I'd rather not do that. Come and have tea with me, said Mrs. Lorimer. There is a shop quite near here that I know. It's very kind of you, said Anne, hesitating. Side by side, they walked down the street and turned into a side street.


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[Assistant] In a small pastry cooks, they were served with tea and muffins. They did not talk much. Each of them seemed to find the other's silence restful. Anne asked suddenly, has Mrs. Oliver been to see you? Mrs. Lorimer shook her head. No one has been to see me except Mr. Poirot. Oh, I didn't mean, began Anne. Didn't you? I think you did, said Mrs. Lorimer. The girl looked up.


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[Assistant] Something she saw in Mrs. Lorimer's face seemed to reassure her. He hasn't been to see me, she said slowly. There was a pause. Hasn't Superintendent Battle been to see you? asked Anne. Oh, yes, of course, said Mrs. Lorimer. Anne said hesitatingly. What sort of things did he ask you? Mrs. Lorimer sighed wearily.


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[Assistant] Oh, the usual things, I suppose. Routine inquiries. He was very pleasant over it all. I suppose he interviewed everyone. I should think so. There was another pause. Anne said, Mrs. Lorimer, do you think they will ever find out who did it? Her eyes were bent on her plate.


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[Assistant] She did not see the curious expression in the older woman's eyes as she watched the downcast head. Mrs. Lorimer said quietly, I don't know. Anne murmured. It's not very nice, is it?


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[Assistant] There was that same curious, appraising, and yet sympathetic look on Mrs. Lorimer's face as she asked, How old are you, Anne Meredith? I, I, the girl stammered, I'm 25. And I'm 63, said Mrs. Lorimer. She went on slowly. Most of your life is in front of you. Anne shivered. I might be run over by a bus on the way home, she said.


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[Assistant] Yes, that's true, and I might not. She said it in an odd way, and looked at her in astonishment.


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[Assistant] Life is a difficult business, said Mrs. Lorimer. You'll know that when you come to my age. It needs infinite courage and a lot of endurance. And in the end, one wonders, was it worth while? Oh, don't, said Anne. Mrs. Lorimer laughed, her old competent self again.


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[Assistant] As they got to the shop door, a taxi crawled past, and Mrs. Lorimer hailed it. Can I give you a lift? She asked. I'm going south of the park. Anne's face had lighted up. No, thank you. I see my friend turning the corner. Thank you so much, Mrs. Lorimer. Goodbye. Goodbye. Good luck, said the older woman. She drove away, and Anne hurried forward. Rhoda's face lit up when she saw her friend.


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[Assistant] And her own answer, hurried without taking time to think, Oh, thanks awfully, but we've got to go out to tea together with some people. A lie. And such a silly lie.


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[Assistant] The stupid way one said the first thing that came into one's head, instead of just taking a minute or two to think. Perfectly easy to have said, uh, thanks, but my friend has got to go out to tea. That is if you didn't, as she hadn't, wanted to have Rhoda too. Rather odd that, the way she hadn't wanted Rhoda, she had wanted definitely to keep Desparta herself. She had felt jealous. Jealous of Rhoda. Rhoda was so bright.


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[Assistant] So ready to talk. So full of enthusiasm and life. The other evening, Major Despire had looked as though he thought Rhoda nice.


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[Assistant] But it was her, Anne Meredith, he had come down to see. Rhoda was like that. She didn't mean it, but she reduced you to the background. No, definitely she hadn't wanted Rhoda there.


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[Assistant] But she had managed it very stupidly, getting flurried like that.


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[Assistant] If she'd managed better, she might be sitting now having tea with Major Despair at his club or somewhere. She felt definitely annoyed with Rhoda. Rhoda was a nuisance. And what had she been doing going to see Mrs. Oliver? Out loud she said, why did you go and see Mrs. Oliver? Well, she asked us to. Yes, but I didn't suppose she really meant it. I expect she always has to say that. She did mean it.


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[Assistant] She was awfully nice. Couldn't have been nicer. She gave me one of her books, look. Rhoda flourished her prize. Anne said suspiciously, What did you talk about? Not me. Listen to the conceit of the girl. No, but did you? Did you talk about the, the murder? We talked about her murders.


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[Assistant] She's writing one where there's poison in the sage and onions. She was frightfully human and said writing was awfully hard work and how she'd got into tangles with plots and we had black coffee and hot buttered toast. Finished Rhoda in a triumphant burst. Then she added, Oh, Anne, you want your tea? No, I don't. I've had it with Mrs. Lorimer. Mrs. Lorimer? Isn't that the one, the one who was there? Anne nodded. Well, where did you come across her?


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[Assistant] What was the solicitor like? Very dry and legal. Rather alert, actually. Sounds alright. She waited a little and then said, How was Major Despard? Very kind.


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[Assistant] He's fallen for you, and I'm sure he has. Rhoda, don't talk nonsense. Well, you'll see. Rhoda began humming to herself. She thought, of course he's fallen for her. Man's awfully pretty, but a bit wishy-washy. She'll never go on treks with him. Why, she'd scream if she saw a snake. Men always do take fancies to unsuitable women. Then she said aloud, oh, that bus will take us to Paddington. We'll just catch the 448.


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[Assistant] The telephone rang in Poirot's room, and a respectful voice spoke.


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[Assistant] Sergeant O'Connor, a Superintendent Battles compliments and would it be convenient for Mr. Hercule Poirot to come to Scotland Yard at 11.30? Poirot replied in the affirmative and Sergeant O'Connor rang off.


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[Assistant] It was 1130 to the minute when Poirot descended from his taxi at the door of New Scotland Yard to be at once seized upon by Mrs. Oliver.


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[Assistant] Pay my taxi for me. I don't know how it happened, but I brought out the bag, I keep my going aboard money in, and the van simply won't take francs or liras or marks.


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[Assistant] Poirot gallantly produced some loose change, and he and Mrs. Oliver went inside the building together. They were taken to Superintendent Battle's own room. The superintendent was sitting behind a table, and looking more wooden than ever. Just like a little piece of modern sculpture, whispered Mrs. Oliver to Poirot.


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[Assistant] Battle rose and shook hands with them both, and they sat down.


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[Assistant] I thought it was about time for a little meeting, said Battle.


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[Assistant] We're just waiting for Colonel Rice, and then... But at that moment, the door opened, and the Colonel appeared. Sorry I'm late, Battle.


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[Assistant] How do you do, Mrs. Oliver? Hello, Mr. Poirot. Ah, very sorry if I've kept you waiting, but I'm off tomorrow, and had a lot of things to see to. Where are you going to? asked Mrs. Oliver. A little shooting trip. Balochistan way. Poirot said, smiling ironically.


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[Assistant] A little trouble, is there not, uh, in that part of the world? You will have to be careful. I mean to be, said Ray scravely, but his eyes twinkled. Got anything for us, sir? asked Battle.


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[Assistant] I've got you your information re-despar. Here it is. He pushed over a sheaf of papers.


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[Assistant] Oh, there's a mass of dates and places there. Most of it quite irrelevant, I should imagine. Nothing against him. He's a stout fellow. Record quite unblemished.


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[Assistant] Strict disciplinarian. Liked and trusted by the natives everywhere.


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[Assistant] One of their cumbrous names for him in Africa where they go in for such things is the man who keeps his mouth shut and judges fairly.


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[Assistant] General opinion of the White Races is that Despair is a pakisab, fine-shot, cool-head, generally long-sighted and dependable. Unmoved by this eulogy, Battle asked, any sudden deaths connected with him?


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[Assistant] It's not rescues I want. You're a persistent fellow, Battle.


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[Assistant] But not incapable of killing a man for what would seem to him good and sufficient reasons. Is that it?


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[Assistant] Well if so, they would be good in sufficient reasons. Battle shook his head.


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[Assistant] You can't have human beings judging other human beings and taking the law into their own hands. It happens, Battle. It happens. It shouldn't happen. That's my point. What do you say, Monsieur Poirot? I agree with you, Battle. I have always disapproved of murder.


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[Assistant] What a delightfully droll way of putting it, said Mrs. Oliver.


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[Assistant] Rather as though it were fox hunting or killing ospreys for hats. Don't you think there are people who ought to be murdered? Or that, uh, very possibly. Well then.


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[Assistant] In war, you do not exercise the right of private judgement. That is what is so dangerous.


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[Assistant] Once a man is imbued with the idea that he knows who ought to be allowed to live and who ought not, then he is halfway to becoming the most dangerous killer there is. The arrogant criminal who kills not for profit, but for an idea.


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[Assistant] I'm sorry I can't stop with you. Too much to do. I'd like to see the end of this business. Shouldn't be surprised if there never was an end. Even if you find out who did it, it's going to be next to impossible to prove. I've given you the facts you wanted, but in my opinion, Despair's not the man. I don't believe he's ever committed murder.


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[Assistant] Sheetana may have heard some garbled rumor of Professor Luxmore's death, but I don't believe there's more to it than that. Despard's a good man, and I don't believe he's ever been a murderer. That's my opinion, and I know something of men. What's Mrs. Luxmore like, asked Battle. Uh, she lives in London, so you can see for yourself. You'll find the address among those papers, somewhere in South Kensington. But I repeat, Despard isn't the man.


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[Assistant] Colonel Race left the room, stepping with the springy, noiseless tread of a hunter.


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[Assistant] Battle nodded his head thoughtfully as the door closed behind him. He's probably right.


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[Assistant] He knows men, Colonel Rice does. But all the same, one can't take anything for granted.


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[Assistant] He looked through the mass of documents Race had deposited on the table, occasionally making a pencil note on the pad beside him.


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[Assistant] Well, Superintendent Battle, said Mrs. Oliver, aren't you going to tell us what you've been doing? He looked up and smiled.


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[Assistant] A slow smile that creased his wooden face from side to side.


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[Assistant] Uh, this is all very irregular, Mrs. Oliver. I hope you realize that. Nonsense, said Mrs. Oliver. I don't suppose for a moment you'll tell us anything you don't want to. Battle shook his head. And now...


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[Assistant] He said decidedly, cards on the table. That's the motto for this business. I mean to play fair. Mrs. Oliver hitched her chair nearer. Tell us, she begged. Superintendent Battle said slowly, first of all, I'll say this.


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[Assistant] As far as the actual murder of Mr. Shaytana goes, I'm not a penny the wiser.


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[Assistant] There's no hint or clue of any kind to be found in his papers. As for the four others...


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[Assistant] I've had them shadowed, naturally, without any tangible result.


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[Assistant] No, as Monsieur Poirot said, there's only one hope. The past.


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[Assistant] Find out what crime exactly, if any, that is to say, after all, Shaytana may have been talking through his hat to make an impression on Monsieur Poirot, these people have committed. And it may tell you who committed this crime. Well, have you found out anything? I've got a line on one of them. Which? Dr. Roberts. Mrs. Oliver looked at him with thrilled expectation.


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[Assistant] As Monsieur Poirot here knows, I tried out all kinds of theories. I established the fact pretty clearly that none of his immediate family had met with a sudden death.


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[Assistant] I've explored every alley, as well as I could, and the whole thing boils down to one possibility. Rather an outside possibility at that.


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[Assistant] A few years ago, Roberts must have been guilty of indiscretion at least, with one of his lady patients. But there may have been nothing in it. Probably wasn't.


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[Assistant] The woman was the hysterical, emotional kind who likes to make a scene.


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[Assistant] And either the husband got wind of what was going on, or his wife confessed.


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[Assistant] Anyway, the fat was in the fire as far as the doctor was concerned.


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[Assistant] Which would probably have meant the ruin of his professional career.


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[Assistant] Well apparently, Roberts managed to calm down the irate gentleman temporarily, and he died of anthrax almost immediately afterwards. Anthrax? But that's a cattle disease. The superintendent grinned. Quite right, Mrs. Oliver.


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[Assistant] It isn't the untraceable arrow poison of the South American Indians.


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[Assistant] You may remember that there was rather a scare about infected shaving brushes of cheap make about that time. Craddock's shaving brush was proved to have been the cause of the infection. Did Dr. Roberts attend him? Oh no, too canny for that. Dare say Craddock wouldn't have wanted him in any case. The only evidence I've got and that's precious little.


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[Assistant] You mean the doctor infected the shaving brush? Oh, that's the big idea. And mind you, it's only an idea. Nothing whatever to go on. Pure conjecture. But it could be.


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[Assistant] I imagine the affection was always on the lady's side. She tended to cut up rough, I hear. But suddenly went off to Egypt quite happily for the winter. She died there, a case of some obscure blood poisoning. It's got a long name, but I don't expect it would convey much to you. Most uncommon in this country, fairly common among the natives in Egypt. So, the doctor couldn't have poisoned her? I don't know, said Battle slowly.


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[Assistant] I've been chatting to a bacteriologist friend of mine. Awfully difficult to get straight answers out of these people.


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[Assistant] They never can say yes or no. It's always, mmm, that might be possible under certain conditions. It would depend on the pathological condition of the recipient. Such cases have been known. A lot depends on individual idiosyncrasy, all that sort of stuff. But as far as I could pin my friend down, I got at this. The germ?


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[Assistant] Or germs, I suppose, might have been introduced into the blood before leaving England.


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[Assistant] The symptoms would not make their appearance for some time to come.


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[Assistant] Quaro asked, was Mrs. Craddock inoculated for typhoid before going to Egypt?


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[Assistant] Most people are, I fancy. Good for you, Monsieur Poirot. And, uh,


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[Assistant] Dr. Roberts did the inoculation? That's right. There you are again.


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[Assistant] We can't prove anything. She had the usual two inoculations, and they may have been tie-forward inoculations for all we know.


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[Assistant] Or one of them may have been typhoid inoculation, and the other, something else. We don't know. We never shall know.


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[Assistant] The whole thing is pure hypothesis. All we can say is, it might be.


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[Assistant] It agrees very well with some remarks made to me by Mr. Shaitana. He was exalting the successful murderer, the man against whom his crime would never be brought home. Well, how did Mr. Shaitana know about it then? Asked Mrs. Oliver. Poirot shrugged his shoulders. That we shall never learn.


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[Assistant] He himself was in Egypt at one time, we know that, because he met Mrs. Lorimer there.


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[Assistant] He may have heard some local doctor comment on curious features of Mrs. Craddock's case. I wonder as to how the infection arose.


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[Assistant] At some other time, he may have heard gossip about Roberts and Mrs. Craddock. He might have amused himself by making some cryptic remark to the doctor, and noted the startled awareness in his eye. All that one can never know.


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[Assistant] Well, I think he did, said Battle. I've a feeling that our cheerful, genial doctor wouldn't be too scrupulous. I've known one or two like him. Wonderful how certain types resemble each other. In my opinion, he's a killer, alright. He killed Craddock.


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[Assistant] He may have killed Mrs. Craddock if she was beginning to be a nuisance and cause a scandal, but did he kill Shaitan?


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[Assistant] That's the real question. And comparing the crimes, I rather doubt it.


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[Assistant] In the case of the Craddocks, he used medical methods each time. The deaths appeared to be due to natural causes.


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[Assistant] In my opinion, if he had killed Shaytana, he would have done so in a medical way. He'd have used the germ, and not the knife.


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[Assistant] Mrs. Lorimer's been a widow for 20 years now. She's lived in London most of the time, occasionally going abroad in the winter. Civilized places, the Riviera, Egypt, that sort of thing. Can't find any mysterious death associated with her.


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[Assistant] She seems to have led a perfectly normal, respectable life. The life of a woman of the world.


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[Assistant] Everyone seems to respect her and to have the highest opinion of her character.


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[Assistant] The worst they can say about her is that she doesn't suffer fools gladly.


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[Assistant] I don't mind admitting that I've been beaten all along the line there. And yet there must be something. Shaytana thought there was. He sighed in a dispirited manner.


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[Assistant] Then there's Miss Meredith. I've got her history taped out quite clearly. Usual sort of story.


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[Assistant] Army officer's daughter, left with very little money, and to earn her living. Not properly trained for anything.


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[Assistant] I've checked up on her early days at Cheltenham, all quite straightforward. Everyone very sorry for the poor little thing.


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[Assistant] She went first to some people in the Isle of Wight. Kind of nursery governess and mother's help.


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[Assistant] The woman she was with is out in Palestine, but I've talked with her sister, and she says Mrs. Eldon liked the girl very much.


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[Assistant] Certainly no mysterious deaths or anything of that kind.


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[Assistant] When Mrs. Eldon went abroad, Miss Meredith went to Devonshire and took up a poster's companion to an aunt of a school friend.


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[Assistant] The school friend is the girl she is living with now. Miss Rhoda Dawes.


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[Assistant] She was there over two years, until Miss Dawes got too ill.


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[Assistant] And she had to have a regular, trained nurse. Cancer, I gather.


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[Assistant] She's alive still, but very vague. Kept under morphia a good deal, I imagine.


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[Assistant] I had an interview with her. She remembered Anne. Said she was a nice child.


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[Assistant] I also talked to a neighbor of hers, who would be better able to remember the happenings of the last few years.


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[Assistant] No deaths in the parish except one or two of the older villagers, with whom as far as I can make out, and Meredith never came into contact. Since then there's been Switzerland.


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[Assistant] Thought I might get on the track of some fatal accident there, but nothing doing. And there's nothing in Wallingford either. So, Anne Meredith is acquitted, asked Poirot.


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[Assistant] Battle hesitated. I wouldn't say that. There's something.


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[Assistant] There's a scared look about her that can't quite be accounted for by panic over Shaytana. She's too watchful, too much on the alert. I'd swear there was something. But there it is. She's led a perfectly blameless life. Mrs. Oliver took a deep breath, a breath of pure enjoyment. And yet, she said,


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[Assistant] Anne Meredith was in the house when a woman took poison by mistake and died. She had nothing to complain of in the effect her words produced.


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[Assistant] Superintendent Battles spun round in his chair and stared at her in amazement. I-Is this true, Mrs. Oliver? How do you know?


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[Assistant] The little Meredith hated my coming and showed it quite plainly. She was suspicious. Why should she be if she hadn't got anything to hide?


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[Assistant] The superintendent muttered something under his breath, and scribbled on his pad. His wooden calm was shaken. Mrs. Oliver sat enjoying her triumph. It was a moment of great sweetness to her. I take my hat off to you, Mrs. Oliver. He said, you've put one over on us this time. That is very valuable information, and it just shows how easily you can miss a thing. He frowned a little. She can't have been there, wherever it was, long. A couple of months at most.


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[Assistant] It must have been between the Isle of Wight and going to miss doors. Yes, that could be it right enough. Naturally.


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[Assistant] Mrs. Eldon's sister only remembers she went off to a place in Devonshire. She doesn't remember exactly who or where.


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[Assistant] In talking, I remember her saying my sister is so dreadfully untidy and slapdash, but how did you know? Because she needed a mother's help, said Mrs. Oliver. Poirot shook his head. No, no, it was not that. It is of no mump. I was only curious. Continue, Superintendent Battles.


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[Assistant] In the same way, went on battle, I took it for granted that she went to Miss Dawes straight from the Isle of Wight. She's sly, that girl. She deceived me all right. Lying the whole time.


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[Assistant] A lying is not always a sign of guilt, said Poirot. I know that, Monsieur Poirot. There's the natural liar. I should say she was one, as a matter of fact. Always says the thing that sounds best. But all the same, it's a pretty grave risk to take, suppressing facts like this.


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[Assistant] She wouldn't know you had any idea of past crimes, said Mrs. Oliver.


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[Assistant] Well that's all the more reason for not suppressing that little piece of information.


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[Assistant] It must have been accepted as a bona fide case of accidental death, so she'd nothing to fear unless she were guilty. Unless she were guilty of the Devonshire death.


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[Assistant] Even if that accidental death turns out to be not so accidental, it doesn't follow that she killed Shaytana. But these other murders are murders too.


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[Assistant] According to Mr. Shetana, that is impossible, remarked Poirot.


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[Assistant] It remains to be seen if it is in Miss Meredith's. I shall go down to Devon tomorrow. Will you know where to go? asked Mrs. Oliver. I didn't like to ask Rhoda for more details. Oh, that was wise of you. I shan't have much difficulty.


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[Assistant] There must have been an inquest. I shall find it in the coroner's records. That's routine police work. They'll have it all taped out for me by tomorrow morning.


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[Assistant] What about Major Despard? asked Mrs. Oliver. Have you found out anything about him? I've been waiting for Colonel Rice's report. I've had him shadowed, of course.


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[Assistant] One rather interesting thing, he went down to see Miss Meredith at Wallingford. You remember he said he'd never met her until the other night?


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[Assistant] He is a man who prepares for every contingency.


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[Assistant] And therefore not the kind of man to stick a knife into a man in a hurry, said Battle with a sigh. Not unless it was the only way, said Poirot. He can act quickly, remember? Battle looked across the table at him.


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[Assistant] Now, Monsieur Poirot, what about your cards? Haven't seen your hand down on the table yet? Poirot smiled. There is so little in it. You think I conceal facts from you? It is not so. I have not learned many facts.


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[Assistant] I have talked with Dr. Roberts, with Mrs. Lorimer, with Major Despard, I have still to talk to Miss Meredith. And what have I learned?


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[Assistant] This. That Dr. Roberts is a keen observer. That Mrs. Lorimer, on the other hand, has a most remarkable power of concentration, but is, in consequence, almost blind to her surroundings. But she is fond of flowers.


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[Assistant] Despar notices only those things which appeal to him. Rugs. Trophies of sport.


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[Assistant] He has neither what I call the outward vision, seeing details all around you, what is called an observant person, nor the inner vision, concentration, the focusing of the mind on one object. He has a purposefully limited vision.


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[Assistant] Those are what you call facts, eh? said Battle, curiously. Well, they are facts. Very small fry, perhaps. What about Miss Meredith?


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[Assistant] I have left her to the end, but I shall question her, too, as to what she remembers in that room. It's an odd method of approach, said Battle thoughtfully. Purely psychological. Suppose they're leading you up the garden path? Burrow shook his head with a smile. No, that would be impossible. Whether they tried to hinder or to help, they necessarily reveal their type of mind. Well, there's something in it, no doubt, said Battle thoughtfully. I couldn't work that way myself, though.


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[Assistant] I feel I have done very little in comparison with you and with Mrs. Oliver, and with Colonel Race. My cards that I place on the table are very low ones. Battle twinkled at him. Well as to that, Monsieur Poirot,


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[Assistant] The two of trumps is a low card, but it can take any one of three aces. All the same. I'm going to ask you to do a practical job of work. And that is? I want you to interview Professor Luxmore's widow. Why do you not do that yourself? Because as I said just now, I'm off to Devonshire. Why do you not do that yourself, repeated Poirot? Won't be put off, will you? Well, I'll speak the truth.


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[Assistant] I think you'll get more out of it than I shall. My methods being less straightforward?


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[Assistant] You can put it that way if you like," said Battle, grinning. I've heard Inspector Japp say that you've got a torturous mind. Like the late Mr. Shetana. You think he would have been able to get things out of her? Quirrow said slowly, I rather think he did get things out of her. What makes you think so? asked Battle sharply. A chance remark of Major Despairce. Gave himself away, did he? That sounds unlike him. Oh, my dear friend.


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[Assistant] It is impossible not to give oneself away, unless one never opens one's mouth. Speech is the deadliest of revealers.


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[Assistant] Well even if people tell lies, ask Mrs. Oliver, yes madam.


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[Assistant] Because it can be seen at once that you tell a certain kind of lie.


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[Assistant] You make me feel quite uncomfortable, said Mrs. Oliver, getting up.


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[Assistant] Superintendent Battle accompanied her to the door and shook her by the hand.


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[Assistant] You've been the goods, Mrs. Oliver, he said. You're a much better detective than that long lanky laplander of yours. Finn, corrected Mrs. Oliver. Of course he's idiotic. But people like him. Goodbye. I too must depart, said Poirot.


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[Assistant] Does anybody know the truth about anything? I'm going to go about this business in Devonshire, said the superintendent with decision. Poirot murmured.


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[Assistant] Chapter 20 The Evidence of Mrs Luxmore


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[Assistant] The maid who opened the door at Mrs. Luxmore's South Kensington address looked at Hercule Poirot with deep disapproval. She showed no disposition to admit him into the house. Unperturbed, Poirot gave her a card.


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[Assistant] He had had them specially engraved for the purpose of obtaining interviews with the so-called fair sex.


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[Assistant] Nearly every woman, whether conscious of innocence or not, was anxious to have a look at a private detective and find out what he wanted.


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[Assistant] Breathing excitedly, the maid returned and Poirot was bidden to enter.


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[Assistant] He was shown into a room on the first floor, a rather dark room, spelling of stale flowers and unemptied ashtrays. There were large quantities of silk cushions of exotic colors, all in need of cleaning.


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[Assistant] The walls were emerald green and the ceiling was of pseudo copper.


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[Assistant] A tall, rather handsome woman was standing by the mantelpiece. She came forward and spoke in a deep, husky voice. Monsieur Hercule Poirot. Poirot bowed. His manner was not quite his own. He was not only foreign, but ornately foreign. His gestures were positively baroque. Faintly, very faintly, it was the manner of the late Mr. Shaitana. What did you want to see me about? Again Poirot bowed. If I might be seated.


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[Assistant] I make inquiries into the death of the late Professor Luxmore. She gave a gasp. Her dismay was evident. But why? What do you mean? What has it got to do with you? But I watched her carefully before proceeding. There is, you comprehend, a book being written. A life of your eminent husband.


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[Assistant] The writer, naturally, is anxious to get all his facts exact. As to your husband's death, for instance. She broke in at once. My husband died of fever. On the Amazon. Quarro leaned back in his chair. Slowly, very slowly, he shook his head to and fro. A maddening, monotonous motion. Madame. Madame, he protested. But I know, I was there at the time. Ah yes, certainly you were there.


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[Assistant] Information supplied to me by the late Mr. Sheetana. She shrank back as though flicked with a whip. Sheetana? she murmured.


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[Assistant] A man, said Poirot, possessed of vast stores of knowledge. A remarkable man. That man knew many secrets. I suppose he did, she murmured, passing a tongue over her dry lips. Poirot leaned forward. He achieved a little tap on her knee.


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[Assistant] She covered her face with her hands. She rocked herself to and fro. She was in terrible distress. But somewhere, in some remote fiber of her being, she was enjoying her own emotions. Kwaro was quite sure of that.


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[Assistant] Said Poirot, in a matter of fact tone. You might just as well tell me the whole story. She uncovered her face and said. It wasn't in the least way you think. Again Poirot leaned forward. Again he tapped her knee. You misunderstand me. You misunderstand me utterly. He said. I know very well that it was not you who shot him. It was Major Despard. But you.


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[Assistant] Were the cause? I don't know. I don't know. I suppose I was. It was all too terrible. It is a sort of fatality that pursues me. Ah, how true that is, cried Poirot. How often have I not seen it? There are some women like that. Wherever they go, tragedies follow in their wake. It is not their fault. These things happen in spite of themselves. Mrs. Luxmore drew a deep breath.


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[Assistant] You understand. I see you understand. It all happened so naturally. You traveled together into the interior, did you not? Yes.


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[Assistant] My husband was writing a book on various rare plants.


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[Assistant] Major Despard was introduced to us as a man who knew the conditions and would arrange the necessary expedition. My husband liked him very much. We started. There was a pause.


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[Assistant] Quaro allowed it to continue for about a minute and a half, and then murmured as though to himself, yes, one can picture it. The winding river, the tropical night, the hum of the insects, the strong, soldierly man, the beautiful woman. As his luck's more side, my husband was, of course, years older than I was. I married as a mere child before I knew what I was doing. Quaro shook his head sadly.


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[Assistant] I know, I know. How often does that not occur? Neither of us would admit what was happening. Went on Mrs. Luxmore. John Despair never said anything. He was the soul of honor. But a woman always knows, prompted Poirot. How right you are. Yes, a woman knows. But I never showed him that I knew.


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[Assistant] We were Major Despair and Mrs. Luxmore to each other right up to the end. We were both determined to play the game. She was silent, lost in admiration of that noble attitude.


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[Assistant] True, Mermet Poirot, one must play the cricket.


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[Assistant] As one of your poets so finely says, I could not love thee, dear, so much. Loved I not cricket more.


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[Assistant] Correct it, Mrs. Luxmore, with a slight frown. Of course, of course.


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[Assistant] I came out of my tent. I came out of my tent. Yes? Yes? Mrs. Luxmore's eyes were wide and dark.


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[Assistant] She was seeing the scene as though it were being repeated in front of her.


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[Assistant] John was noble. He was all for giving himself up. I refused to hear of it. We argued all night. For my sake, I kept saying. He saw that in the end.


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[Assistant] Naturally, he couldn't let me suffer. The awful publicity. Think of the headlines.


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[Assistant] Two men and a woman in the jungle. Primeval passions.


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[Assistant] I put it all to John. In the end he gave in. The boys had seen and heard nothing. Timothy had been having a bout of fever. We said he had died of it. We buried him there, beside the Amazon. A deep, tortured sigh shook her form. And then, back to civilization. And to part forever. Was it necessary, madam?


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[Assistant] Yes, yes. Timothy dead. Stood between us just as Timothy alive had done. More so. We said goodbye to each other. Forever.


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[Assistant] I meet John Despair sometimes, out in the world. We smile, we speak politely. No one would ever guess that there was anything between us. But I see in his eyes, and he in mine, that we will never forget.


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[Assistant] Quarro paid tribute to the curtain by not breaking the silence.


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[Assistant] Mrs. Luxmore took out a vanity case and powdered her nose. The spell was broken.


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[Assistant] Surely he would not wish to blight the life of a perfectly innocent woman, or even to hang a perfectly innocent man, murmured Poirot. You see it like that? I'm glad. He was innocent. A cream passionel is not really a crime. And in any case, it was self-defense he had to shoot. So you do understand, Mr. Poirot, that the world must continue to think that Timothy died of fever. Poirot murmured,


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[Assistant] Writers are sometimes curiously careless. Your friend is a woman hater? He wants to make her suffer? But you must not allow that.


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[Assistant] I shall not allow it. If necessary, I shall take the blame on myself. I shall say I shot Timothy. She had risen to her feet. Her head was thrown back. Poirot also rose. Madame, he said as he took her hand. Such splendid self-sacrifice is unnecessary. I will do my best so that the true facts shall never be known.


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[Assistant] A sweet womanly smile stole over Mrs. Luxmore's face. She raised her hand slightly so that Poirot, whether he had meant to do so or not, was forced to kiss it. An unhappy woman thanks you, Mr. Poirot, she said. It was the last word of a persecuted queen to a favored courtier, clearly an exit line. Poirot duly made his exit. Once out in the street, he drew a long breath of fresh air.


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[Assistant] Suddenly he began to laugh. He was now walking along the Brompton Road.


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[Assistant] In any case the wait will do him no harm. I can now attend to the other little


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[Assistant] What was it that my friend in the English police force used to sing? How many years? Forty years ago? A little piece of sugar for the bird.


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[Assistant] Humming a long forgotten tune, Hercule Poirot entered a sumptuous looking shop, mainly devoted to the clothing and general embellishment of women, and made his way to the stocking counter.


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[Assistant] Selecting a sympathetic looking and not too haughty damsel, he made known his requirements. Silk stockings.


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[Assistant] Very nice, Bamser, but I had something of a finer texture in mind. These are a hundred gauge.


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[Assistant] Of course, we have some extra fine, but I'm afraid they come out at about 35 shillings a pair. And no durability, of course, just like cobwebs. C'est ça, c'est ça, exactement. A prolonged absence of the young lady this time. She returned at last.


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[Assistant] I'm afraid they're actually thirty-seven and sixpence a pair, but beautiful, aren't they? She slid them tenderly from a gauzy envelope, the finest, gauziest wisps of stockings.


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[Assistant] The girl sorted them out obediently, packed them up, and made out the bill.


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[Assistant] As Poirot departed with his purchase, the next girl at the counter said,


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[Assistant] Wonder who the lucky girl is. Must be a nasty old man.


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[Assistant] Oh well, she seems to be stringing him along good and proper. Stockings at thirty-seven and sixpence indeed.


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[Assistant] I wish, you see, for the true story of Professor Luxmore's death. True story? Do you think that woman's capable of telling the truth about anything? Demanded Disparr, wrathfully.


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[Assistant] Eh bien. I did wonder now and then, admitted Poirot. I should think you did. That woman's crazy. Poirot demurred. Not at all. She is a romantic woman. That is all. Romantic be damned. She's an out and out liar. I sometimes think she even believes her own lies. It is quite possible. She's an appalling woman. I had the hell of a time with her out there. That also I can well believe. Despair sat down abruptly.


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[Assistant] Look here, Mr. Poirot. I'm gonna tell you the truth.


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[Assistant] You mean that you are going to give me your version of the story? My version will be the true version. Poirot did not reply.


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[Assistant] He was a nice old boy, quite batty about mosses and plants and things. She was a, well, she was what you've no doubt observed her to be. That trip was a nightmare. I didn't care a damn for the woman, rather disliked her as a matter of fact.


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[Assistant] Everything went alright for the first fortnight, then we all had to go fever.


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[Assistant] She and I had it slightly. Old Luxembourg was pretty bad. One night. Now, you've got to listen to this carefully. I was sitting outside my tent.


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[Assistant] Suddenly I saw Luxmore in the distance, staggering off into the bush by the river. He was absolutely delirious and quite unconscious of what he was doing. In another minute he would have been in the river, and at that particular spot it would have been the end of him. No chance of a rescue.


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[Assistant] There wasn't time to rush after him. Only one thing to be done. My rifle was beside me as usual.


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[Assistant] I snatched it up. I'm a pretty accurate shot.


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[Assistant] I was quite sure I could bring the old boy down, get him in the leg, and then just as I fired, that idiotic fool of a woman flung herself from somewhere upon me, yelping, don't shoot, don't shoot, for god's sake, don't shoot.


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[Assistant] She caught my arm and joked it ever so slightly just as the rifle went off with the result that the bullet got him in the back and killed him dead.


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[Assistant] I can tell you, that was a pretty ghastly moment, and that damn fool of a woman still didn't understand what she'd done.


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[Assistant] Instead of realizing that she'd been responsible for her husband's death, she firmly believed that I'd been trying to shoot the old boy in cold blood. For the love of her, if you please.


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[Assistant] We had the devil of a scene, she insisting that we should say he died of fever.


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[Assistant] In the end I agreed to do what she wanted, partly for the sake of peace I'll admit.


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[Assistant] After all, it didn't seem to matter much, fever or accident.


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[Assistant] And I didn't want to drag a woman through a lot of unpleasantness, even if she was a damn fool.


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[Assistant] I gave it out the next day that the professor was dead of fever, and we buried him. The bearers knew the truth, of course.


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[Assistant] But they were all devoted to me and I knew that what I said they'd swear to if need be.


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[Assistant] We buried poor old Luxmore and got back to civilization. Since then, I've spent a good deal of time dodging the woman. He paused, then said quietly, That's my story, Monsieur Poirot. Poirot said slowly,


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[Assistant] It was to that incident that Mr. Shaytana referred, or so you thought, at dinner that night. Despair nodded. He must have heard it from Mrs. Luxmore. Easy enough to get the story out of her. That sort of thing would have amused him.


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[Assistant] It's true enough, I suppose, that I had a kind of motive for Shaytana's death. Well, the truth's out now. Take it or leave it. Poirot held out a hand. I will take it, measured Espar.


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[Assistant] I have no doubt at all that things in South America happened exactly as you have described. Despair's face lit up. Thanks, he said laconicly, and he clasped Poirot's hand warmly.


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[Assistant] Chapter 22. Evidence from Coomaker. Superintendent Battle was in the police station of Coomaker.


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[Assistant] Inspector Harper, rather red in the face, talked in a slow, pleasing Devonshire voice. That's how it was, sir. Seemed all right as rein. The doctor was satisfied. Everyone was satisfied. Why not?


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[Assistant] Just, uh, give me the facts about the two bottles again.


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[Assistant] or rather the young lady her companion had been using for her, brightening up a garden hat. There was a good deal left over and the bottle broke.


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[Assistant] And Mrs. Benson herself said, put it in that old bottle, the syrup of figs bottle. That's all right. The servants heard her.


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[Assistant] The young lady, Ms. Meredith, and the housemaid, and the parlour maid, they all agree on that. The paint was put into the old syrup-a-figs bottle.


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[Assistant] On this particular night, the deceased went into the bathroom, took down a syrup of figs bottle, poured herself out a good dose and drank it.


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[Assistant] Realized what she'd done, and they sent off at once for the doctor.


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[Assistant] He was out on a case and it was some time before they could get at him. They did all they could, but she died. She herself believed it to be an accident. Oh yes, everyone thought so. It seems clear the bottles must have got mixed up somehow.


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[Assistant] It was suggested the housemaid did it when she does did, but she swears she didn't. Superintendent Battle was silent. Thinking. Such an easy business. A bottle taken down from an upper shelf, put in place of the other. So difficult to trace a mistake like that to its source. Handled with gloves possibly. And anyway, the last prints would be those of Mrs. Benson herself. Yes. So easy. So simple. But all the same.


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[Assistant] This, uh, young lady companion, this Miss Meredith, she didn't come into money at Mrs. Benson's death?


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[Assistant] He asked. Inspector Harper shook his head. No. She'd only been there about six weeks. Difficult place, I should imagine. Young ladies didn't stay long, as a rule. Battle was still puzzled. Young ladies didn't stay long. A difficult woman, evidently. But if Anne Meredith had been unhappy, she could have left as her predecessors had done. No need to kill, unless it were sheer unreasoning vindictiveness. He shook his head.


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[Assistant] That suggestion did not ring true. Who did get Mrs. Benson's money? I couldn't say, sir. Daffy's and Neece's, I believe. But it wouldn't be very much. Not when it was divided up.


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[Assistant] And I heard as though most of her income was one of these annuities. Nothing there then.


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[Assistant] But Mrs. Benson had died, and Anne Meredith had not told him that she had been at Coomaker. It was all profoundly unsatisfactory. He made diligent and painstaking inquiries. The doctor was quite clear and emphatic. No reason to believe it was anything but an accident. Miss, couldn't remember her name, nice girl, but rather helpless, had been very upset and distressed. There was the vicar.


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[Assistant] He remembered Mrs. Benson's last companion, a nice, modest looking girl, always came to church with Mrs. Benson.


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[Assistant] Mrs. Benson had been, not difficult, but a trifle severe towards young people. She was the rigid type of Christian. Battle tried one or two other people, but learned nothing of value. Anne Meredith was hardly remembered. She had lived among them a few months, that was all.


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[Assistant] Working her companions hard and changing her servants often. A disagreeable woman. But that was all.


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[Assistant] Nevertheless, Superintendent Battle left Devonshire under the firm impression that for some reason unknown.


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[Assistant] Ann Meredith Add deliberately murdered her employer.


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[Assistant] Chapter 23. The evidence of a pair of silk stockings.


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[Assistant] As Superintendent Battles train rushed eastwards through England, Anne Meredith and Rhoda Dawes were in Hercule Poirot's sitting room.


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[Assistant] Anne had been unwilling to accept the invitation that had reached her by the morning's post, but Rhoda's counsel had prevailed.


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[Assistant] But you are one, continued Rhoda, undisturbed by the interruption.


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[Assistant] And it's no use putting your nose in the air as though murder was a nasty smell and nothing to do with you. It is nothing to do with me, Anne persisted. I mean, I'm quite willing to answer any questions the police want to ask me. But this man, this Hercule Poirot, he's an outsider. And what would he think if you hedge and try to get out of it? He'll think you're bursting with guilt. I'm certainly not bursting with guilt, said Anne coldly. Darling, I know that.


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[Assistant] You couldn't murder anybody if you tried, but horrible suspicious foreigners don't know that.


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[Assistant] I think we ought to go nicely to his house, otherwise he'll come down here and try to worm things out of the servants. We haven't got any servants.


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[Assistant] We've got Mother Astwell. She can wag her tongue with anybody. Come on, Anne, let's go. It'll be rather fun, really. I don't see why he wants to see me. Anne was obstinate.


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[Assistant] I expect he has been quite good in his day. He's gaga now, of course. Must be at least sixty. Oh, come on, Anne. Let's go and see the old boy. He may tell us dreadful things about the others. All right, said Anne, and added. You do enjoy all this, so, Rhoda? I suppose, because it isn't my funeral, said Rhoda. You were a noodle, Anne. Not just to have looked up at the right minute. If you had, you could live like a duchess for the rest of your life on blackmail.


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[Assistant] So it came about that at three o'clock of that same afternoon, Rhoda Dawes and Anne Meredith sat primly on their chairs in Poirot's neat room and sipped blackberry syrup.


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[Assistant] Which they disliked very much, but were too polite to refuse from old fashioned glasses.


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[Assistant] Yes, I have already put these questions to Mrs. Lorimer, to Dr. Roberts, and to Major Despard.


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[Assistant] None of them has, alas, given me the response that I hoped for. And continue to look at him inquiringly.


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[Assistant] I want you, Mamzel, to cast your mind back to that evening in the drawing room of Mr. Chetan." A weary shadow passed over Anne's face. Was she never to be free of that nightmare? Poirot noticed the expression.


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[Assistant] You, so young as you are, to be brought in contact with horror for the first time.


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[Assistant] I want you to tell me what you remember of that room. Anne stared at him suspiciously. I don't understand.


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[Assistant] But yes, the chairs, the tables, the ornaments, the wallpaper, the curtains, the fire irons, you saw them all. Can you not then describe them? Oh, I see. Anne hesitated, frowning. It's difficult. I, I don't really think I remember. I couldn't say what the wallpaper was like. I think the walls were painted. Some inconspicuous color. There were rugs on the floor.


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[Assistant] There was a piano. She shook her head. I-I really couldn't tell you anymore, but you are not trying, mumsel.


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[Assistant] You must remember some object, some ornament, some piece of bric-a-brac.


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[Assistant] There was a case of Egyptian jewelry, I remember, said Anne slowly, over by the window.


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[Assistant] Oh yes, at the extreme other end of the room from the table on which lay the little dagger. And looked at him. I, I never heard which table that was on. By si bet, commented Poirot to himself.


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[Assistant] But then no more is Hercule Poirot. If she knew me better, she would realize I would never lay a piège as gross as that. Aloud, he said, A case of Egyptian jewelry, you say? Anne answered with some enthusiasm.


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[Assistant] Yes, some of it was lovely. Blues and red. Enamel. One or two lovely rings. And scarabs. But I don't like them so much. He was a great collector, Mr. Sheetana, murmured Poirot. Yes, he must have been, Anne agreed. The room was full of stuff. One couldn't begin to look at it all.


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[Assistant] So that you cannot mention anything else that particularly struck your notice. And smiled a little as she said


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[Assistant] Only a vase of chrysanthemums that badly wanted their water changed.


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[Assistant] Ah yes. Servants are not always too particular about that.


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[Assistant] I'm afraid I didn't notice whatever it is you wanted me to notice. Poro smiled kindly. It does not matter mon enfant, it was indeed an outside chance. Tell me, have you seen the good Major Despard lately?


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[Assistant] To have convinced two such charming young ladies of one's innocence.


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[Assistant] Oh dear, thought Rhoda, he's going to be French, and it does embarrass me so. She got up and began examining some etchings on the wall. These are awfully good, she said. They are not bad, said Poirot. He hesitated, looking at Anne.


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[Assistant] He said at last, I wonder if I might ask you to do me a great favor. Oh, nothing to do with the murder. This is an entirely private and personal matter. Anne looked a little surprised. Quirrell went on speaking in a slightly embarrassed manner. It is, you understand, that Christmas is coming on.


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[Assistant] I have to buy presents for many nieces and grand-nieces, and it is a little difficult to choose what young ladies like in this present time. My tastes, alas, are rather old-fashioned. Yes, said Anne kindly, silk stockings now. Are silk stockings a welcome present to receive? Yes, indeed. It's always nice to be given stockings. You relieve my mind.


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[Assistant] I will ask you my favour. I have obtained some different colours. There are, I think, about fifteen or sixteen pairs. Would you be so amiable as to look through them and set aside half a dozen pairs that seem to you the most desirable? Certainly I will," said Anne, rising with a laugh. Quarrow directed her towards a table in an alcove, a table whose contents were strangely at variance.


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[Assistant] And she had known it with the well-known order and neatness of Hercule Poirot.


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[Assistant] There were stockings piled up in untidy heaps, some fur-lined gloves, calendars, and boxes of bonbons.


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[Assistant] I send off my parcels very much à l'avance, Poirot explained. Si mademoiselle, here are the stockings. Select me, I pray of you, six pairs. He turned.