Reading Help The Mysterious Affair at Styles Ch.VII-XIII
wished to commit suicide by causing himself to be hanged, would `
` act so!" `
` `
` "Still--I do not see--" I began. `
` `
` "Neither do I see. I tell you, mon ami, it puzzles me. Me `
` --Hercule Poirot!" `
` `
` "But if you believe him innocent, how do you explain his buying `
` the strychnine?" `
` `
` "Very simply. He did _not_ buy it." `
` `
` "But Mace recognized him!" `
` `
` "I beg your pardon, he saw a man with a black beard like Mr. `
` Inglethorp's, and wearing glasses like Mr. Inglethorp, and `
` dressed in Mr. Inglethorp's rather noticeable clothes. He could `
` not recognize a man whom he had probably only seen in the `
` distance, since, you remember, he himself had only been in the `
` village a fortnight, and Mrs. Inglethorp dealt principally with `
` Coot's in Tadminster." `
` `
` "Then you think----" `
` `
` "Mon ami, do you remember the two points I laid stress upon? `
` Leave the first one for the moment, what was the second?" `
` `
` "The important fact that Alfred Inglethorp wears peculiar `
` clothes, has a black beard, and uses glasses," I quoted. `
` `
` "Exactly. Now suppose anyone wished to pass himself off as John `
` or Lawrence Cavendish. Would it be easy?" `
` `
` "No," I said thoughtfully. "Of course an actor----" `
` `
` But Poirot cut me short ruthlessly. `
` `
` "And why would it not be easy? I will tell you, my friend: `
` Because they are both clean-shaven men. To make up successfully `
` as one of these two in broad daylight, it would need an actor of `
` genius, and a certain initial facial resemblance. But in the `
` case of Alfred Inglethorp, all that is changed. His clothes, his `
` beard, the glasses which hide his eyes--those are the salient `
` points about his personal appearance. Now, what is the first `
` instinct of the criminal? To divert suspicion from himself, is it `
` not so? And how can he best do that? By throwing it on some one `
` else. In this instance, there was a man ready to his hand. `
` Everybody was predisposed to believe in Mr. Inglethorp's guilt. `
` It was a foregone conclusion that he would be suspected; but, to `
` make it a sure thing there must be tangible proof--such as the `
` actual buying of the poison, and that, with a man of the peculiar `
` appearance of Mr. Inglethorp, was not difficult. Remember, this `
` young Mace had never actually spoken to Mr. Inglethorp. How `
` should he doubt that the man in his clothes, with his beard and `
` his glasses, was not Alfred Inglethorp?" `
` `
` "It may be so," I said, fascinated by Poirot's eloquence. "But, `
` if that was the case, why does he not say where he was at six `
` o'clock on Monday evening?" `
` `
` "Ah, why indeed?" said Poirot, calming down. "If he were `
` arrested, he probably would speak, but I do not want it to come `
` to that. I must make him see the gravity of his position. There `
` is, of course, something discreditable behind his silence. If he `
` did not murder his wife, he is, nevertheless, a scoundrel, and `
` has something of his own to conceal, quite apart from the `
` murder." `
` `
` "What can it be?" I mused, won over to Poirot's views for the `
` moment, although still retaining a faint conviction that the `
` obvious deduction was the correct one. `
` `
` "Can you not guess?" asked Poirot, smiling. `
` `
` "No, can you?" `
` `
` "Oh, yes, I had a little idea sometime ago--and it has turned out `
` to be correct." `
` `
` "You never told me," I said reproachfully. `
` `
` Poirot spread out his hands apologetically. `
` `
` "Pardon me, mon ami, you were not precisely sympathique." He `
` turned to me earnestly. "Tell me--you see now that he must not `
` be arrested?" `
` `
` "Perhaps," I said doubtfully, for I was really quite indifferent `
` to the fate of Alfred Inglethorp, and thought that a good fright `
` would do him no harm. `
` `
` Poirot, who was watching me intently, gave a sigh. `
` `
` "Come, my friend," he said, changing the subject, "apart from Mr. `
` Inglethorp, how did the evidence at the inquest strike you?" `
` `
` "Oh, pretty much what I expected." `
` `
` "Did nothing strike you as peculiar about it?" `
` `
` My thoughts flew to Mary Cavendish, and I hedged: `
` `
` "In what way?" `
` `
` "Well, Mr. Lawrence Cavendish's evidence for instance?" `
` `
` I was relieved. `
` `
` "Oh, Lawrence! No, I don't think so. He's always a nervous `
` chap." `
` `
` "His suggestion that his mother might have been poisoned `
` accidentally by means of the tonic she was taking, that did not `
` strike you as strange--hein?" `
` `
` "No, I can't say it did. The doctors ridiculed it of course. `
` But it was quite a natural suggestion for a layman to make." `
` `
` "But Monsieur Lawrence is not a layman. You told me yourself `
` that he had started by studying medicine, and that he had taken `
` his degree." `
` `
` "Yes, that's true. I never thought of that." I was rather `
` startled. "It _is_ odd." `
` `
` Poirot nodded. `
` `
` "From the first, his behaviour has been peculiar. Of all the `
` household, he alone would be likely to recognize the symptoms of `
` strychnine poisoning, and yet we find him the only member of the `
` family to uphold strenuously the theory of death from natural `
` causes. If it had been Monsieur John, I could have understood `
` it. He has no technical knowledge, and is by nature `
` unimaginative. But Monsieur Lawrence--no! And now, to-day, he `
` puts forward a suggestion that he himself must have known was `
` ridiculous. There is food for thought in this, mon ami!" `
` `
` "It's very confusing," I agreed. `
` `
` "Then there is Mrs. Cavendish," continued Poirot. "That's `
` another who is not telling all she knows! What do you make of her `
` attitude?" `
` `
` "I don't know what to make of it. It seems inconceivable that `
` she should be shielding Alfred Inglethorp. Yet that is what it `
` looks like." `
` `
` Poirot nodded reflectively. `
` `
` "Yes, it is queer. One thing is certain, she overheard a good `
` deal more of that 'private conversation' than she was willing to `
` admit." `
` `
` "And yet she is the last person one would accuse of stooping to `
` eavesdrop!" `
` `
` "Exactly. One thing her evidence _has_ shown me. I made a `
` mistake. Dorcas was quite right. The quarrel did take place `
` earlier in the afternoon, about four o'clock, as she said." `
` `
` I looked at him curiously. I had never understood his insistence `
` on that point. `
` `
` "Yes, a good deal that was peculiar came out to-day," continued `
` Poirot. "Dr. Bauerstein, now, what was _he_ doing up and dressed `
` at that hour in the morning? It is astonishing to me that no one `
` commented on the fact." `
` `
` "He has insomnia, I believe," I said doubtfully. `
` `
` "Which is a very good, or a very bad explanation," remarked `
` Poirot. "It covers everything, and explains nothing. I shall `
` keep my eye on our clever Dr. Bauerstein." `
` `
` "Any more faults to find with the evidence?" I inquired `
` satirically. `
` `
` "Mon ami," replied Poirot gravely, "when you find that people are `
` not telling you the truth--look out! Now, unless I am much `
` mistaken, at the inquest to-day only one--at most, two persons `
` were speaking the truth without reservation or subterfuge." `
` `
` "Oh, come now, Poirot! I won't cite Lawrence, or Mrs. Cavendish. `
` But there's John--and Miss Howard, surely they were speaking the `
` truth?" `
` `
` "Both of them, my friend? One, I grant you, but both----!" `
` `
` His words gave me an unpleasant shock. Miss Howard's evidence, `
` unimportant as it was, had been given in such a downright `
` straightforward manner that it had never occurred to me to doubt `
` her sincerity. Still, I had a great respect for Poirot's `
` sagacity--except on the occasions when he was what I described to `
` myself as "foolishly pig-headed." `
` `
` "Do you really think so?" I asked. "Miss Howard had always `
` seemed to me so essentially honest--almost uncomfortably so." `
` `
` Poirot gave me a curious look, which I could not quite fathom. `
` He seemed to speak, and then checked himself. `
`
` act so!" `
` `
` "Still--I do not see--" I began. `
` `
` "Neither do I see. I tell you, mon ami, it puzzles me. Me `
` --Hercule Poirot!" `
` `
` "But if you believe him innocent, how do you explain his buying `
` the strychnine?" `
` `
` "Very simply. He did _not_ buy it." `
` `
` "But Mace recognized him!" `
` `
` "I beg your pardon, he saw a man with a black beard like Mr. `
` Inglethorp's, and wearing glasses like Mr. Inglethorp, and `
` dressed in Mr. Inglethorp's rather noticeable clothes. He could `
` not recognize a man whom he had probably only seen in the `
` distance, since, you remember, he himself had only been in the `
` village a fortnight, and Mrs. Inglethorp dealt principally with `
` Coot's in Tadminster." `
` `
` "Then you think----" `
` `
` "Mon ami, do you remember the two points I laid stress upon? `
` Leave the first one for the moment, what was the second?" `
` `
` "The important fact that Alfred Inglethorp wears peculiar `
` clothes, has a black beard, and uses glasses," I quoted. `
` `
` "Exactly. Now suppose anyone wished to pass himself off as John `
` or Lawrence Cavendish. Would it be easy?" `
` `
` "No," I said thoughtfully. "Of course an actor----" `
` `
` But Poirot cut me short ruthlessly. `
` `
` "And why would it not be easy? I will tell you, my friend: `
` Because they are both clean-shaven men. To make up successfully `
` as one of these two in broad daylight, it would need an actor of `
` genius, and a certain initial facial resemblance. But in the `
` case of Alfred Inglethorp, all that is changed. His clothes, his `
` beard, the glasses which hide his eyes--those are the salient `
` points about his personal appearance. Now, what is the first `
` instinct of the criminal? To divert suspicion from himself, is it `
` not so? And how can he best do that? By throwing it on some one `
` else. In this instance, there was a man ready to his hand. `
` Everybody was predisposed to believe in Mr. Inglethorp's guilt. `
` It was a foregone conclusion that he would be suspected; but, to `
` make it a sure thing there must be tangible proof--such as the `
` actual buying of the poison, and that, with a man of the peculiar `
` appearance of Mr. Inglethorp, was not difficult. Remember, this `
` young Mace had never actually spoken to Mr. Inglethorp. How `
` should he doubt that the man in his clothes, with his beard and `
` his glasses, was not Alfred Inglethorp?" `
` `
` "It may be so," I said, fascinated by Poirot's eloquence. "But, `
` if that was the case, why does he not say where he was at six `
` o'clock on Monday evening?" `
` `
` "Ah, why indeed?" said Poirot, calming down. "If he were `
` arrested, he probably would speak, but I do not want it to come `
` to that. I must make him see the gravity of his position. There `
` is, of course, something discreditable behind his silence. If he `
` did not murder his wife, he is, nevertheless, a scoundrel, and `
` has something of his own to conceal, quite apart from the `
` murder." `
` `
` "What can it be?" I mused, won over to Poirot's views for the `
` moment, although still retaining a faint conviction that the `
` obvious deduction was the correct one. `
` `
` "Can you not guess?" asked Poirot, smiling. `
` `
` "No, can you?" `
` `
` "Oh, yes, I had a little idea sometime ago--and it has turned out `
` to be correct." `
` `
` "You never told me," I said reproachfully. `
` `
` Poirot spread out his hands apologetically. `
` `
` "Pardon me, mon ami, you were not precisely sympathique." He `
` turned to me earnestly. "Tell me--you see now that he must not `
` be arrested?" `
` `
` "Perhaps," I said doubtfully, for I was really quite indifferent `
` to the fate of Alfred Inglethorp, and thought that a good fright `
` would do him no harm. `
` `
` Poirot, who was watching me intently, gave a sigh. `
` `
` "Come, my friend," he said, changing the subject, "apart from Mr. `
` Inglethorp, how did the evidence at the inquest strike you?" `
` `
` "Oh, pretty much what I expected." `
` `
` "Did nothing strike you as peculiar about it?" `
` `
` My thoughts flew to Mary Cavendish, and I hedged: `
` `
` "In what way?" `
` `
` "Well, Mr. Lawrence Cavendish's evidence for instance?" `
` `
` I was relieved. `
` `
` "Oh, Lawrence! No, I don't think so. He's always a nervous `
` chap." `
` `
` "His suggestion that his mother might have been poisoned `
` accidentally by means of the tonic she was taking, that did not `
` strike you as strange--hein?" `
` `
` "No, I can't say it did. The doctors ridiculed it of course. `
` But it was quite a natural suggestion for a layman to make." `
` `
` "But Monsieur Lawrence is not a layman. You told me yourself `
` that he had started by studying medicine, and that he had taken `
` his degree." `
` `
` "Yes, that's true. I never thought of that." I was rather `
` startled. "It _is_ odd." `
` `
` Poirot nodded. `
` `
` "From the first, his behaviour has been peculiar. Of all the `
` household, he alone would be likely to recognize the symptoms of `
` strychnine poisoning, and yet we find him the only member of the `
` family to uphold strenuously the theory of death from natural `
` causes. If it had been Monsieur John, I could have understood `
` it. He has no technical knowledge, and is by nature `
` unimaginative. But Monsieur Lawrence--no! And now, to-day, he `
` puts forward a suggestion that he himself must have known was `
` ridiculous. There is food for thought in this, mon ami!" `
` `
` "It's very confusing," I agreed. `
` `
` "Then there is Mrs. Cavendish," continued Poirot. "That's `
` another who is not telling all she knows! What do you make of her `
` attitude?" `
` `
` "I don't know what to make of it. It seems inconceivable that `
` she should be shielding Alfred Inglethorp. Yet that is what it `
` looks like." `
` `
` Poirot nodded reflectively. `
` `
` "Yes, it is queer. One thing is certain, she overheard a good `
` deal more of that 'private conversation' than she was willing to `
` admit." `
` `
` "And yet she is the last person one would accuse of stooping to `
` eavesdrop!" `
` `
` "Exactly. One thing her evidence _has_ shown me. I made a `
` mistake. Dorcas was quite right. The quarrel did take place `
` earlier in the afternoon, about four o'clock, as she said." `
` `
` I looked at him curiously. I had never understood his insistence `
` on that point. `
` `
` "Yes, a good deal that was peculiar came out to-day," continued `
` Poirot. "Dr. Bauerstein, now, what was _he_ doing up and dressed `
` at that hour in the morning? It is astonishing to me that no one `
` commented on the fact." `
` `
` "He has insomnia, I believe," I said doubtfully. `
` `
` "Which is a very good, or a very bad explanation," remarked `
` Poirot. "It covers everything, and explains nothing. I shall `
` keep my eye on our clever Dr. Bauerstein." `
` `
` "Any more faults to find with the evidence?" I inquired `
` satirically. `
` `
` "Mon ami," replied Poirot gravely, "when you find that people are `
` not telling you the truth--look out! Now, unless I am much `
` mistaken, at the inquest to-day only one--at most, two persons `
` were speaking the truth without reservation or subterfuge." `
` `
` "Oh, come now, Poirot! I won't cite Lawrence, or Mrs. Cavendish. `
` But there's John--and Miss Howard, surely they were speaking the `
` truth?" `
` `
` "Both of them, my friend? One, I grant you, but both----!" `
` `
` His words gave me an unpleasant shock. Miss Howard's evidence, `
` unimportant as it was, had been given in such a downright `
` straightforward manner that it had never occurred to me to doubt `
` her sincerity. Still, I had a great respect for Poirot's `
` sagacity--except on the occasions when he was what I described to `
` myself as "foolishly pig-headed." `
` `
` "Do you really think so?" I asked. "Miss Howard had always `
` seemed to me so essentially honest--almost uncomfortably so." `
` `
` Poirot gave me a curious look, which I could not quite fathom. `
` He seemed to speak, and then checked himself. `
`