Reading Help The Mysterious Affair at Styles Ch.VII-XIII
evidence. Not only was it entirely circumstantial, but the `
` greater part of it was practically unproved. Let them take the `
` testimony they had heard and sift it impartially. The strychnine `
` had been found in a drawer in the prisoner's room. That drawer `
` was an unlocked one, as he had pointed out, and he submitted that `
` there was no evidence to prove that it was the prisoner who had `
` concealed the poison there. It was, in fact, a wicked and `
` malicious attempt on the part of some third person to fix the `
` crime on the prisoner. The prosecution had been unable to `
` produce a shred of evidence in support of their contention that `
` it was the prisoner who ordered the black beard from Parkson's. `
` The quarrel which had taken place between prisoner and his `
` stepmother was freely admitted, but both it and his financial `
` embarrassments had been grossly exaggerated. `
` `
` His learned friend--Sir Ernest nodded carelessly at Mr. `
` Philips--had stated that if the prisoner were an innocent man, he `
` would have come forward at the inquest to explain that it was he, `
` and not Mr. Inglethorp, who had been the participator in the `
` quarrel. He thought the facts had been misrepresented. What had `
` actually occurred was this. The prisoner, returning to the house `
` on Tuesday evening, had been authoritatively told that there had `
` been a violent quarrel between Mr. and Mrs. Inglethorp. No `
` suspicion had entered the prisoner's head that anyone could `
` possibly have mistaken his voice for that of Mr. Inglethorp. He `
` naturally concluded that his stepmother had had two quarrels. `
` `
` The prosecution averred that on Monday, July 16th, the prisoner `
` had entered the chemist's shop in the village, disguised as Mr. `
` Inglethorp. The prisoner, on the contrary, was at that time at a `
` lonely spot called Marston's Spinney, where he had been summoned `
` by an anonymous note, couched in blackmailing terms, and `
` threatening to reveal certain matters to his wife unless he `
` complied with its demands. The prisoner had, accordingly, gone `
` to the appointed spot, and after waiting there vainly for half an `
` hour had returned home. Unfortunately, he had met with no one on `
` the way there or back who could vouch for the truth of his story, `
` but luckily he had kept the note, and it would be produced as `
` evidence. `
` `
` As for the statement relating to the destruction of the will, the `
` prisoner had formerly practiced at the Bar, and was perfectly `
` well aware that the will made in his favour a year before was `
` automatically revoked by his stepmother's remarriage. He would `
` call evidence to show who did destroy the will, and it was `
` possible that that might open up quite a new view of the case. `
` `
` Finally, he would point out to the jury that there was evidence `
` against other people besides John Cavendish. He would direct `
` their attention to the fact that the evidence against Mr. `
` Lawrence Cavendish was quite as strong, if not stronger than that `
` against his brother. `
` `
` He would now call the prisoner. `
` `
` John acquitted himself well in the witness-box. Under Sir `
` Ernest's skilful handling, he told his tale credibly and well. `
` The anonymous note received by him was produced, and handed to `
` the jury to examine. The readiness with which he admitted his `
` financial difficulties, and the disagreement with his stepmother, `
` lent value to his denials. `
` `
` At the close of his examination, he paused, and said: `
` `
` "I should like to make one thing clear. I utterly reject and `
` disapprove of Sir Ernest Heavywether's insinuations against my `
` brother. My brother, I am convinced, had no more to do with the `
` crime than I have." `
` `
` Sir Ernest merely smiled, and noted with a sharp eye that John's `
` protest had produced a very favourable impression on the jury. `
` `
` Then the cross-examination began. `
` `
` "I understand you to say that it never entered your head that the `
` witnesses at the inquest could possibly have mistaken your voice `
` for that of Mr. Inglethorp. Is not that very surprising?" `
` `
` "No, I don't think so. I was told there had been a quarrel `
` between my mother and Mr. Inglethorp, and it never occurred to me `
` that such was not really the case." `
` `
` "Not when the servant Dorcas repeated certain fragments of the `
` conversation--fragments which you must have recognized?" `
` `
` "I did not recognize them." `
` `
` "Your memory must be unusually short!" `
` `
` "No, but we were both angry, and, I think, said more than we `
` meant. I paid very little attention to my mother's actual `
` words." `
` `
` Mr. Philips' incredulous sniff was a triumph of forensic skill. `
` He passed on to the subject of the note. `
` `
` "You have produced this note very opportunely. Tell me, is there `
` nothing familiar about the hand-writing of it?" `
` `
` "Not that I know of." `
` `
` "Do you not think that it bears a marked resemblance to your own `
` hand-writing--carelessly disguised?" `
` `
` "No, I do not think so." `
` `
` "I put it to you that it is your own hand-writing!" `
` `
` "No." `
` `
` "I put it to you that, anxious to prove an alibi, you conceived `
` the idea of a fictitious and rather incredible appointment, and `
` wrote this note yourself in order to bear out your statement!" `
` `
` "No." `
` `
` "Is it not a fact that, at the time you claim to have been `
` waiting about at a solitary and unfrequented spot, you were `
` really in the chemist's shop in Styles St. Mary, where you `
` purchased strychnine in the name of Alfred Inglethorp?" `
` `
` "No, that is a lie." `
` `
` "I put it to you that, wearing a suit of Mr. Inglethorp's `
` clothes, with a black beard trimmed to resemble his, you were `
` there--and signed the register in his name!" `
` `
` "That is absolutely untrue." `
` `
` "Then I will leave the remarkable similarity of hand-writing `
` between the note, the register, and your own, to the `
` consideration of the jury," said Mr. Philips, and sat down with `
` the air of a man who has done his duty, but who was nevertheless `
` horrified by such deliberate perjury. `
` `
` After this, as it was growing late, the case was adjourned till `
` Monday. `
` `
` Poirot, I noticed, was looking profoundly discouraged. He had `
` that little frown between the eyes that I knew so well. `
` `
` "What is it, Poirot?" I inquired. `
` `
` "Ah, mon ami, things are going badly, badly." `
` `
` In spite of myself, my heart gave a leap of relief. Evidently `
` there was a likelihood of John Cavendish being acquitted. `
` `
` When we reached the house, my little friend waved aside Mary's `
` offer of tea. `
` `
` "No, I thank you, madame. I will mount to my room." `
` `
` I followed him. Still frowning, he went across to the desk and `
` took out a small pack of patience cards. Then he drew up a chair `
` to the table, and, to my utter amazement, began solemnly to build `
` card houses! `
` `
` My jaw dropped involuntarily, and he said at once: `
` `
` "No, mon ami, I am not in my second childhood! I steady my `
` nerves, that is all. This employment requires precision of the `
` fingers. With precision of the fingers goes precision of the `
` brain. And never have I needed that more than now!" `
` `
` "What is the trouble?" I asked. `
` `
` With a great thump on the table, Poirot demolished his carefully `
` built up edifice. `
` `
` "It is this, mon ami! That I can build card houses seven stories `
` high, but I cannot"--thump--"find"--thump--"that last link of `
` which I spoke to you." `
` `
` I could not quite tell what to say, so I held my peace, and he `
` began slowly building up the cards again, speaking in jerks as he `
` did so. `
` `
` "It is done--so! By placing--one card--on another--with `
` mathematical--precision!" `
` `
` I watched the card house rising under his hands, story by story. `
` He never hesitated or faltered. It was really almost like a `
` conjuring trick. `
` `
` "What a steady hand you've got," I remarked. "I believe I've `
` only seen your hand shake once." `
` `
` "On an occasion when I was enraged, without doubt," observed `
` Poirot, with great placidity. `
` `
` "Yes indeed! You were in a towering rage. Do you remember? It `
` was when you discovered that the lock of the despatch-case in `
` Mrs. Inglethorp's bedroom had been forced. You stood by the `
` mantel-piece, twiddling the things on it in your usual fashion, `
` and your hand shook like a leaf! I must say----" `
` `
` But I stopped suddenly. For Poirot, uttering a hoarse and `
` inarticulate cry, again annihilated his masterpiece of cards, and `
` putting his hands over his eyes swayed backwards and forwards, `
` apparently suffering the keenest agony. `
`
` greater part of it was practically unproved. Let them take the `
` testimony they had heard and sift it impartially. The strychnine `
` had been found in a drawer in the prisoner's room. That drawer `
` was an unlocked one, as he had pointed out, and he submitted that `
` there was no evidence to prove that it was the prisoner who had `
` concealed the poison there. It was, in fact, a wicked and `
` malicious attempt on the part of some third person to fix the `
` crime on the prisoner. The prosecution had been unable to `
` produce a shred of evidence in support of their contention that `
` it was the prisoner who ordered the black beard from Parkson's. `
` The quarrel which had taken place between prisoner and his `
` stepmother was freely admitted, but both it and his financial `
` embarrassments had been grossly exaggerated. `
` `
` His learned friend--Sir Ernest nodded carelessly at Mr. `
` Philips--had stated that if the prisoner were an innocent man, he `
` would have come forward at the inquest to explain that it was he, `
` and not Mr. Inglethorp, who had been the participator in the `
` quarrel. He thought the facts had been misrepresented. What had `
` actually occurred was this. The prisoner, returning to the house `
` on Tuesday evening, had been authoritatively told that there had `
` been a violent quarrel between Mr. and Mrs. Inglethorp. No `
` suspicion had entered the prisoner's head that anyone could `
` possibly have mistaken his voice for that of Mr. Inglethorp. He `
` naturally concluded that his stepmother had had two quarrels. `
` `
` The prosecution averred that on Monday, July 16th, the prisoner `
` had entered the chemist's shop in the village, disguised as Mr. `
` Inglethorp. The prisoner, on the contrary, was at that time at a `
` lonely spot called Marston's Spinney, where he had been summoned `
` by an anonymous note, couched in blackmailing terms, and `
` threatening to reveal certain matters to his wife unless he `
` complied with its demands. The prisoner had, accordingly, gone `
` to the appointed spot, and after waiting there vainly for half an `
` hour had returned home. Unfortunately, he had met with no one on `
` the way there or back who could vouch for the truth of his story, `
` but luckily he had kept the note, and it would be produced as `
` evidence. `
` `
` As for the statement relating to the destruction of the will, the `
` prisoner had formerly practiced at the Bar, and was perfectly `
` well aware that the will made in his favour a year before was `
` automatically revoked by his stepmother's remarriage. He would `
` call evidence to show who did destroy the will, and it was `
` possible that that might open up quite a new view of the case. `
` `
` Finally, he would point out to the jury that there was evidence `
` against other people besides John Cavendish. He would direct `
` their attention to the fact that the evidence against Mr. `
` Lawrence Cavendish was quite as strong, if not stronger than that `
` against his brother. `
` `
` He would now call the prisoner. `
` `
` John acquitted himself well in the witness-box. Under Sir `
` Ernest's skilful handling, he told his tale credibly and well. `
` The anonymous note received by him was produced, and handed to `
` the jury to examine. The readiness with which he admitted his `
` financial difficulties, and the disagreement with his stepmother, `
` lent value to his denials. `
` `
` At the close of his examination, he paused, and said: `
` `
` "I should like to make one thing clear. I utterly reject and `
` disapprove of Sir Ernest Heavywether's insinuations against my `
` brother. My brother, I am convinced, had no more to do with the `
` crime than I have." `
` `
` Sir Ernest merely smiled, and noted with a sharp eye that John's `
` protest had produced a very favourable impression on the jury. `
` `
` Then the cross-examination began. `
` `
` "I understand you to say that it never entered your head that the `
` witnesses at the inquest could possibly have mistaken your voice `
` for that of Mr. Inglethorp. Is not that very surprising?" `
` `
` "No, I don't think so. I was told there had been a quarrel `
` between my mother and Mr. Inglethorp, and it never occurred to me `
` that such was not really the case." `
` `
` "Not when the servant Dorcas repeated certain fragments of the `
` conversation--fragments which you must have recognized?" `
` `
` "I did not recognize them." `
` `
` "Your memory must be unusually short!" `
` `
` "No, but we were both angry, and, I think, said more than we `
` meant. I paid very little attention to my mother's actual `
` words." `
` `
` Mr. Philips' incredulous sniff was a triumph of forensic skill. `
` He passed on to the subject of the note. `
` `
` "You have produced this note very opportunely. Tell me, is there `
` nothing familiar about the hand-writing of it?" `
` `
` "Not that I know of." `
` `
` "Do you not think that it bears a marked resemblance to your own `
` hand-writing--carelessly disguised?" `
` `
` "No, I do not think so." `
` `
` "I put it to you that it is your own hand-writing!" `
` `
` "No." `
` `
` "I put it to you that, anxious to prove an alibi, you conceived `
` the idea of a fictitious and rather incredible appointment, and `
` wrote this note yourself in order to bear out your statement!" `
` `
` "No." `
` `
` "Is it not a fact that, at the time you claim to have been `
` waiting about at a solitary and unfrequented spot, you were `
` really in the chemist's shop in Styles St. Mary, where you `
` purchased strychnine in the name of Alfred Inglethorp?" `
` `
` "No, that is a lie." `
` `
` "I put it to you that, wearing a suit of Mr. Inglethorp's `
` clothes, with a black beard trimmed to resemble his, you were `
` there--and signed the register in his name!" `
` `
` "That is absolutely untrue." `
` `
` "Then I will leave the remarkable similarity of hand-writing `
` between the note, the register, and your own, to the `
` consideration of the jury," said Mr. Philips, and sat down with `
` the air of a man who has done his duty, but who was nevertheless `
` horrified by such deliberate perjury. `
` `
` After this, as it was growing late, the case was adjourned till `
` Monday. `
` `
` Poirot, I noticed, was looking profoundly discouraged. He had `
` that little frown between the eyes that I knew so well. `
` `
` "What is it, Poirot?" I inquired. `
` `
` "Ah, mon ami, things are going badly, badly." `
` `
` In spite of myself, my heart gave a leap of relief. Evidently `
` there was a likelihood of John Cavendish being acquitted. `
` `
` When we reached the house, my little friend waved aside Mary's `
` offer of tea. `
` `
` "No, I thank you, madame. I will mount to my room." `
` `
` I followed him. Still frowning, he went across to the desk and `
` took out a small pack of patience cards. Then he drew up a chair `
` to the table, and, to my utter amazement, began solemnly to build `
` card houses! `
` `
` My jaw dropped involuntarily, and he said at once: `
` `
` "No, mon ami, I am not in my second childhood! I steady my `
` nerves, that is all. This employment requires precision of the `
` fingers. With precision of the fingers goes precision of the `
` brain. And never have I needed that more than now!" `
` `
` "What is the trouble?" I asked. `
` `
` With a great thump on the table, Poirot demolished his carefully `
` built up edifice. `
` `
` "It is this, mon ami! That I can build card houses seven stories `
` high, but I cannot"--thump--"find"--thump--"that last link of `
` which I spoke to you." `
` `
` I could not quite tell what to say, so I held my peace, and he `
` began slowly building up the cards again, speaking in jerks as he `
` did so. `
` `
` "It is done--so! By placing--one card--on another--with `
` mathematical--precision!" `
` `
` I watched the card house rising under his hands, story by story. `
` He never hesitated or faltered. It was really almost like a `
` conjuring trick. `
` `
` "What a steady hand you've got," I remarked. "I believe I've `
` only seen your hand shake once." `
` `
` "On an occasion when I was enraged, without doubt," observed `
` Poirot, with great placidity. `
` `
` "Yes indeed! You were in a towering rage. Do you remember? It `
` was when you discovered that the lock of the despatch-case in `
` Mrs. Inglethorp's bedroom had been forced. You stood by the `
` mantel-piece, twiddling the things on it in your usual fashion, `
` and your hand shook like a leaf! I must say----" `
` `
` But I stopped suddenly. For Poirot, uttering a hoarse and `
` inarticulate cry, again annihilated his masterpiece of cards, and `
` putting his hands over his eyes swayed backwards and forwards, `
` apparently suffering the keenest agony. `
`