Reading Help The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie. Ch.I-VI
`
` "On the contrary," said Poirot quietly, "there are several points `
` in his favour." `
` `
` "Oh, come now!" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "I see only one." `
` `
` "And that?" `
` `
` "That he was not in the house last night." `
` `
` " 'Bad shot!' as you English say! You have chosen the one point `
` that to my mind tells against him." `
` `
` "How is that?" `
` `
` "Because if Mr. Inglethorp knew that his wife would be poisoned `
` last night, he would certainly have arranged to be away from the `
` house. His excuse was an obviously trumped up one. That leaves `
` us two possibilities: either he knew what was going to happen or `
` he had a reason of his own for his absence." `
` `
` "And that reason?" I asked sceptically. `
` `
` Poirot shrugged his shoulders. `
` `
` "How should I know? Discreditable, without doubt. This Mr. `
` Inglethorp, I should say, is somewhat of a scoundrel--but that `
` does not of necessity make him a murderer." `
` `
` I shook my head, unconvinced. `
` `
` "We do not agree, eh?" said Poirot. "Well, let us leave it. `
` Time will show which of us is right. Now let us turn to other `
` aspects of the case. What do you make of the fact that all the `
` doors of the bedroom were bolted on the inside?" `
` `
` "Well----" I considered. "One must look at it logically." `
` `
` "True." `
` `
` "I should put it this way. The doors _were_ bolted--our own eyes `
` have told us that--yet the presence of the candle grease on the `
` floor, and the destruction of the will, prove that during the `
` night some one entered the room. You agree so far?" `
` `
` "Perfectly. Put with admirable clearness. Proceed." `
` `
` "Well," I said, encouraged, "as the person who entered did not do `
` so by the window, nor by miraculous means, it follows that the `
` door must have been opened from inside by Mrs. Inglethorp `
` herself. That strengthens the conviction that the person in `
` question was her husband. She would naturally open the door to `
` her own husband." `
` `
` Poirot shook his head. `
` `
` "Why should she? She had bolted the door leading into his room--a `
` most unusual proceeding on her part--she had had a most violent `
` quarrel with him that very afternoon. No, he was the last person `
` she would admit." `
` `
` "But you agree with me that the door must have been opened by `
` Mrs. Inglethorp herself?" `
` `
` "There is another possibility. She may have forgotten to bolt `
` the door into the passage when she went to bed, and have got up `
` later, towards morning, and bolted it then." `
` `
` "Poirot, is that seriously your opinion?" `
` `
` "No, I do not say it is so, but it might be. Now, to turn to `
` another feature, what do you make of the scrap of conversation `
` you overheard between Mrs. Cavendish and her mother-in-law?" `
` `
` "I had forgotten that," I said thoughtfully. "That is as `
` enigmatical as ever. It seems incredible that a woman like Mrs. `
` Cavendish, proud and reticent to the last degree, should `
` interfere so violently in what was certainly not her affair." `
` `
` "Precisely. It was an astonishing thing for a woman of her `
` breeding to do." `
` `
` "It is certainly curious," I agreed. "Still, it is unimportant, `
` and need not be taken into account." `
` `
` A groan burst from Poirot. `
` `
` "What have I always told you? Everything must be taken into `
` account. If the fact will not fit the theory--let the theory `
` go." `
` `
` "Well, we shall see," I said, nettled. `
` `
` "Yes, we shall see." `
` `
` We had reached Leastways Cottage, and Poirot ushered me upstairs `
` to his own room. He offered me one of the tiny Russian `
` cigarettes he himself occasionally smoked. I was amused to `
` notice that he stowed away the used matches most carefully in a `
` little china pot. My momentary annoyance vanished. `
` `
` Poirot had placed our two chairs in front of the open window `
` which commanded a view of the village street. The fresh air blew `
` in warm and pleasant. It was going to be a hot day. `
` `
` Suddenly my attention was arrested by a weedy looking young man `
` rushing down the street at a great pace. It was the expression `
` on his face that was extraordinary--a curious mingling of terror `
` and agitation. `
` `
` "Look, Poirot!" I said. `
` `
` He leant forward. `
` `
` "Tiens!" he said. "It is Mr. Mace, from the chemist's shop. He `
` is coming here." `
` `
` The young man came to a halt before Leastways Cottage, and, after `
` hesitating a moment, pounded vigorously at the door. `
` `
` "A little minute," cried Poirot from the window. "I come." `
` `
` Motioning to me to follow him, he ran swiftly down the stairs and `
` opened the door. Mr. Mace began at once. `
` `
` "Oh, Mr. Poirot, I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but I heard `
` that you'd just come back from the Hall?" `
` `
` "Yes, we have." `
` `
` The young man moistened his dry lips. His face was working `
` curiously. `
` `
` "It's all over the village about old Mrs. Inglethorp dying so `
` suddenly. They do say--" he lowered his voice cautiously--"that `
` it's poison?" `
` `
` Poirot's face remained quite impassive. `
` `
` "Only the doctors can tell us that, Mr. Mace." `
` `
` "Yes, exactly--of course----" The young man hesitated, and then `
` his agitation was too much for him. He clutched Poirot by the `
` arm, and sank his voice to a whisper: "Just tell me this, Mr. `
` Poirot, it isn't--it isn't strychnine, is it?" `
` `
` I hardly heard what Poirot replied. Something evidently of a `
` non-committal nature. The young man departed, and as he closed `
` the door Poirot's eyes met mine. `
` `
` "Yes," he said, nodding gravely. "He will have evidence to give `
` at the inquest." `
` `
` We went slowly upstairs again. I was opening my lips, when `
` Poirot stopped me with a gesture of his hand. `
` `
` "Not now, not now, mon ami. I have need of reflection. My mind `
` is in some disorder--which is not well." `
` `
` For about ten minutes he sat in dead silence, perfectly still, `
` except for several expressive motions of his eyebrows, and all `
` the time his eyes grew steadily greener. At last he heaved a `
` deep sigh. `
` `
` "It is well. The bad moment has passed. Now all is arranged and `
` classified. One must never permit confusion. The case is not `
` clear yet--no. For it is of the most complicated! It puzzles `
` _me_. _Me_, Hercule Poirot! There are two facts of significance." `
` `
` "And what are they?" `
` `
` "The first is the state of the weather yesterday. That is very `
` important." `
` `
` "But it was a glorious day!" I interrupted. "Poirot, you're `
` pulling my leg!" `
` `
` "Not at all. The thermometer registered 80 degrees in the shade. `
` Do not forget that, my friend. It is the key to the whole `
` riddle!" `
` `
` "And the second point?" I asked. `
` `
` "The important fact that Monsieur Inglethorp wears very peculiar `
` clothes, has a black beard, and uses glasses." `
` `
` "Poirot, I cannot believe you are serious." `
` `
` "I am absolutely serious, my friend." `
` `
` "But this is childish!" `
` `
` "No, it is very momentous." `
` `
` "And supposing the Coroner's jury returns a verdict of Wilful `
` Murder against Alfred Inglethorp. What becomes of your theories, `
` then?" `
`
` "On the contrary," said Poirot quietly, "there are several points `
` in his favour." `
` `
` "Oh, come now!" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "I see only one." `
` `
` "And that?" `
` `
` "That he was not in the house last night." `
` `
` " 'Bad shot!' as you English say! You have chosen the one point `
` that to my mind tells against him." `
` `
` "How is that?" `
` `
` "Because if Mr. Inglethorp knew that his wife would be poisoned `
` last night, he would certainly have arranged to be away from the `
` house. His excuse was an obviously trumped up one. That leaves `
` us two possibilities: either he knew what was going to happen or `
` he had a reason of his own for his absence." `
` `
` "And that reason?" I asked sceptically. `
` `
` Poirot shrugged his shoulders. `
` `
` "How should I know? Discreditable, without doubt. This Mr. `
` Inglethorp, I should say, is somewhat of a scoundrel--but that `
` does not of necessity make him a murderer." `
` `
` I shook my head, unconvinced. `
` `
` "We do not agree, eh?" said Poirot. "Well, let us leave it. `
` Time will show which of us is right. Now let us turn to other `
` aspects of the case. What do you make of the fact that all the `
` doors of the bedroom were bolted on the inside?" `
` `
` "Well----" I considered. "One must look at it logically." `
` `
` "True." `
` `
` "I should put it this way. The doors _were_ bolted--our own eyes `
` have told us that--yet the presence of the candle grease on the `
` floor, and the destruction of the will, prove that during the `
` night some one entered the room. You agree so far?" `
` `
` "Perfectly. Put with admirable clearness. Proceed." `
` `
` "Well," I said, encouraged, "as the person who entered did not do `
` so by the window, nor by miraculous means, it follows that the `
` door must have been opened from inside by Mrs. Inglethorp `
` herself. That strengthens the conviction that the person in `
` question was her husband. She would naturally open the door to `
` her own husband." `
` `
` Poirot shook his head. `
` `
` "Why should she? She had bolted the door leading into his room--a `
` most unusual proceeding on her part--she had had a most violent `
` quarrel with him that very afternoon. No, he was the last person `
` she would admit." `
` `
` "But you agree with me that the door must have been opened by `
` Mrs. Inglethorp herself?" `
` `
` "There is another possibility. She may have forgotten to bolt `
` the door into the passage when she went to bed, and have got up `
` later, towards morning, and bolted it then." `
` `
` "Poirot, is that seriously your opinion?" `
` `
` "No, I do not say it is so, but it might be. Now, to turn to `
` another feature, what do you make of the scrap of conversation `
` you overheard between Mrs. Cavendish and her mother-in-law?" `
` `
` "I had forgotten that," I said thoughtfully. "That is as `
` enigmatical as ever. It seems incredible that a woman like Mrs. `
` Cavendish, proud and reticent to the last degree, should `
` interfere so violently in what was certainly not her affair." `
` `
` "Precisely. It was an astonishing thing for a woman of her `
` breeding to do." `
` `
` "It is certainly curious," I agreed. "Still, it is unimportant, `
` and need not be taken into account." `
` `
` A groan burst from Poirot. `
` `
` "What have I always told you? Everything must be taken into `
` account. If the fact will not fit the theory--let the theory `
` go." `
` `
` "Well, we shall see," I said, nettled. `
` `
` "Yes, we shall see." `
` `
` We had reached Leastways Cottage, and Poirot ushered me upstairs `
` to his own room. He offered me one of the tiny Russian `
` cigarettes he himself occasionally smoked. I was amused to `
` notice that he stowed away the used matches most carefully in a `
` little china pot. My momentary annoyance vanished. `
` `
` Poirot had placed our two chairs in front of the open window `
` which commanded a view of the village street. The fresh air blew `
` in warm and pleasant. It was going to be a hot day. `
` `
` Suddenly my attention was arrested by a weedy looking young man `
` rushing down the street at a great pace. It was the expression `
` on his face that was extraordinary--a curious mingling of terror `
` and agitation. `
` `
` "Look, Poirot!" I said. `
` `
` He leant forward. `
` `
` "Tiens!" he said. "It is Mr. Mace, from the chemist's shop. He `
` is coming here." `
` `
` The young man came to a halt before Leastways Cottage, and, after `
` hesitating a moment, pounded vigorously at the door. `
` `
` "A little minute," cried Poirot from the window. "I come." `
` `
` Motioning to me to follow him, he ran swiftly down the stairs and `
` opened the door. Mr. Mace began at once. `
` `
` "Oh, Mr. Poirot, I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but I heard `
` that you'd just come back from the Hall?" `
` `
` "Yes, we have." `
` `
` The young man moistened his dry lips. His face was working `
` curiously. `
` `
` "It's all over the village about old Mrs. Inglethorp dying so `
` suddenly. They do say--" he lowered his voice cautiously--"that `
` it's poison?" `
` `
` Poirot's face remained quite impassive. `
` `
` "Only the doctors can tell us that, Mr. Mace." `
` `
` "Yes, exactly--of course----" The young man hesitated, and then `
` his agitation was too much for him. He clutched Poirot by the `
` arm, and sank his voice to a whisper: "Just tell me this, Mr. `
` Poirot, it isn't--it isn't strychnine, is it?" `
` `
` I hardly heard what Poirot replied. Something evidently of a `
` non-committal nature. The young man departed, and as he closed `
` the door Poirot's eyes met mine. `
` `
` "Yes," he said, nodding gravely. "He will have evidence to give `
` at the inquest." `
` `
` We went slowly upstairs again. I was opening my lips, when `
` Poirot stopped me with a gesture of his hand. `
` `
` "Not now, not now, mon ami. I have need of reflection. My mind `
` is in some disorder--which is not well." `
` `
` For about ten minutes he sat in dead silence, perfectly still, `
` except for several expressive motions of his eyebrows, and all `
` the time his eyes grew steadily greener. At last he heaved a `
` deep sigh. `
` `
` "It is well. The bad moment has passed. Now all is arranged and `
` classified. One must never permit confusion. The case is not `
` clear yet--no. For it is of the most complicated! It puzzles `
` _me_. _Me_, Hercule Poirot! There are two facts of significance." `
` `
` "And what are they?" `
` `
` "The first is the state of the weather yesterday. That is very `
` important." `
` `
` "But it was a glorious day!" I interrupted. "Poirot, you're `
` pulling my leg!" `
` `
` "Not at all. The thermometer registered 80 degrees in the shade. `
` Do not forget that, my friend. It is the key to the whole `
` riddle!" `
` `
` "And the second point?" I asked. `
` `
` "The important fact that Monsieur Inglethorp wears very peculiar `
` clothes, has a black beard, and uses glasses." `
` `
` "Poirot, I cannot believe you are serious." `
` `
` "I am absolutely serious, my friend." `
` `
` "But this is childish!" `
` `
` "No, it is very momentous." `
` `
` "And supposing the Coroner's jury returns a verdict of Wilful `
` Murder against Alfred Inglethorp. What becomes of your theories, `
` then?" `
`