Chapter 5 Chapter V Agent

"Not Wilbur at all?" Elliott asked. He understood her quite well.The odd figure in the top hat began to move and churn in his imagination. "I haven't finished," Marjorie told him calmly but sadly, "I haven't told you what happened to Uncle Marcus. "That happened after we found Wilbur lying there, I don't know how long the symptoms had been there. They picked Wilbur up and I looked up and there was something wrong with Uncle Marcus. "Honestly, I felt nauseous. I knew it was my gut feeling, but I just couldn't help it. I knew what was going on in that moment. He was leaning against the tree trunk, curled up, panting. The light in the room shone through the leaves behind him. I couldn't see him very clearly, but the light hit the profile of his face, and his skin looked rough and leaden. I said, 'Uncle Marcus, what's the matter? What's the matter? Is something wrong?' I must have screamed. He just shook his head violently, made a gesture as if he was going to push me away, and then he started stamping the ground with his foot, and you could hear him mixing whines and moans Breathe. I ran to him, and Professor Ingram ran to him. But he shook off Professor Ingram's hand, and—" She broke down.She slapped herself in the face with both hands, then covered her eyes, and slapped herself again.

Major Crowe came to her from the piano: "Calm down," he said gruffly. Inspector Postrek was silent; he folded his arms and looked at her curiously. "He started running," said Marjorie wildly. "I'll never forget the moment he started running. Back and forth, up and down, but only a few steps in each direction because he couldn't take the pain. George and the professor tried to catch Hold him, hold him down, but he escapes, runs through the french windows into the study. He collapses by the desk. We help him into a chair, but we don't say a word. I go out and call Uncle Joe, I know where he is ;Mrs. Ellsworth was in labor. Uncle Joe came in while I was on the phone, but it was too late. You could smell the bitter almonds in the room at this point. I still thought there was hope. But George said, 'Dead, the old man is dead, I know he is dead.' And he is dead."

"Damn luck!" growled Major Crowe.The words were inappropriate, but sincere.Inspector Postrik was silent. "Miss Wells," Elliott said, "I don't want to put too much pressure on you at this time." "I'm fine. I'm really fine." "You think your uncle was poisoned by the green capsule?" "Of course. He couldn't speak because the poison affected his respiratory nerves; but he pointed to his throat." "Did he swallow anything else?" "No." "Can you describe this capsule?" "Well, like I said, it looks like the castor oil capsules we used to eat when we were kids. As big as a grape, and made of raw gelatin. You thought they wouldn't go down your throat, but they slide down your throat easily. Lots of people around here Still going to take the capsules." She stopped talking and glanced at him, blushing.

Elliot pretended not to see her blushing: "Let's talk about the situation. You think someone knocked out Mr. Emmett just before the show started." "I think so." "Someone puts on such strange clothes that even Mr. Marcus Chesney can't recognize him, and then this person plays the role of Mr. Emmett in the show. Mr. Chesney swallows the capsule as part of the show, But this man replaced the harmless sac with a poisonous capsule?" "Oh, I don't know! But I think so." "Thank you, Miss Wells. I won't bother you for the time being." Eliot stood up. "Do you know where Professor Ingram and Mr. Harding are?"

"They're upstairs with Wilbur." "Want them to come here, okay? Oh, and one more thing!" She was on her feet, looking restless, but in no hurry to go.She looked at him questioningly. "At a later point I'll ask you to elaborate on everything you saw in the performance," continued Elliott, "but there's one thing we might as well say now. You describe part of the person's clothing, raincoat, etc. Wait. But what about his pants and shoes?" She was stunned: "His..." "Yes. You just said," Elliott said, suppressing the tinnitus in his ears, "you always pay attention to your shoes. How about this man's shoes and trousers?"

"The light was shining straight on the table," Marjorie replied after a moment's hesitation, "so the ground near it was quite dark. But I think I can tell you. Yes, I'm sure." The light in her eyes became More steadfast, "He was wearing plain dress trousers - black with dark stripes down the side, and patent leather dinner shoes." "Are all of you here tonight in evening dress, Miss Wells?" "Yes. Everyone except Uncle Joe, I should say. He has outpatients to look after; he said it would have a bad psychological effect on the patient if the doctor wore evening gown. He said the patient would think the doctor Preoccupied. But you don't think—"

Elliott smiled, though he thought it was hypocrisy. "How many people in the neighborhood are used to wearing dresses to dinner?" "As far as I know, no one," Marjorie said.She became visibly more flustered. "We usually don't either. But tonight Uncle Marcus asked us to dress up for dinner." "the first time?" "Well, it's the first time we've had many guests. But Professor Ingram is hardly a guest, and George is hardly a guest." "Thank you, Miss Wells. Have a question for Major Crowe or the Inspector General?" Both shook their heads, but Postrik looked rather menacing.Marjorie looked at Elliot thoughtfully for a moment, and then she went out, closing the door softly; but he thought he saw her shivering, and the bright room was hush.

"Hmph!" said Major Crowe. "You know," he went on, fixing Elliott with piercing little eyes, "I don't like the girl's testimony." "I don't like it either," Postrik said, and carefully unwrapped the arms. "It's a clear case on the face of it," growled Major Crowe. "Someone overheard and saw Chesney and Wilbur Emmett preparing, and knew what the show was about. He knocked out Emmett, Play his role and replace the harmless capsules with poison capsules. The gel takes a minute or two to dissolve. So Chesney doesn't notice something wrong when he eats the capsules. That is, he doesn't immediately yell that he is poisoned , or try to stop the murderer. The murderer was able to get away in peace, leaving the disguise outside the house. When the gel melts, the poison kills in minutes. All very clear. Yes, obviously. But—”

"Ah!" Postrike murmured when the chief of police said the "but," "why stun Emmett? Well, sir?" Elliott suddenly realized that Postrik standing in the corner was very shrewd.Postrik was his boss, but it never occurred to him that he was a shrewd man.The Inspector walked up and down, sometimes leaning against the wall.Now he looked at Elliott with stark, suspicious eyes, like a searchlight searching back and forth. "Exactly, Inspector," Major Crowe agreed, "as Postrick said, why stun Mr. Emmett? Why didn't Emmett give Chesney the poison capsule during the performance? If the murderer knew What the show is about, he just has to switch the capsules. Why take the risk of knocking Emmett out and getting in here in plain sight with all the attention? Why put himself at risk when he can just replace the harmless ones with poison capsules? Terrible danger?"

"I think," said Elliott thoughtfully, "that's the crux of the case." "The key to the case?" "Yes, sir. Mr. Chesney never intended to swallow any capsules in preparation for the rehearsal." "Hmm!" Major Crowe said after a little hesitation. "He's just going to pretend to swallow it. You know, the show is a series of traps. You've probably been tricked by similar tricks in your college psychology classes." "I haven't," said Major Crowe. "I haven't," muttered Inspector Postrek. Elliott was furious, angry not just at their words but at the hostility rising in the room.He wondered if they thought he was bluffing.Then he decided not to swear, even though his tinnitus continued.

He continued: "The teacher fetches a bottle of liquid, tastes it, makes faces, and says it's bitter. Then he gives you the bottle. It's filled with colored water. But, if you're not careful, you'll end up with Swearing that something is bitter at the teacher's word. Or it's really bitter and he's just pretending to taste it. He wants you to taste it too, and unless you watch his behavior carefully, you'll drink the water. "That's probably what happened here. Mr. Chesney warned them about the trap. Remember? Miss Wells said Mr. Chesney looked surprised and annoyed when the capsule was stuffed into Mr. Chesney's mouth. It is likely that his instructions to Emmett were to pretend to give him the capsules, which he would pretend to swallow, but the killer forced him to swallow the capsules, and that was it. Chesney did not protest to avoid spoiling the show." Elliott Shaking his head, "I'd be surprised if we didn't find a question like 'How long did it take me to swallow the capsule?' on that question sheet he prepared." Major Crowe listened carefully: "By God, it makes sense!" He admitted with relief, but his anger and embarrassment were palpable, "Hey, Inspector, if this is the case, my God, we are facing Crazy?" "It looks like it, sir." "Let's face it," said Major Crowe, "there's a deranged man in this house." "Ah," Postrik murmured, "Go on!" The chief of police said gently: "First of all, how would an outsider know that they arranged an observation test here tonight? They didn't know until dinner; if an outsider happened to hear Chesney and Emmett's talk, also seems unlikely. An outsider in dress black pants and dinner shoes loitering around the neighborhood on the evenings they dress up to dine seems even more unlikely. I admit that the above observations are not conclusive and speculative Yes. But—you understand the difficulty, don't you?" "I understand." Elliott replied sullenly. "If someone in this house did it, who could it be? Joe Chesney was out seeing patients; if he didn't leave the patients until twelve o'clock at night, he obviously wasn't the murderer. Wilbur Emmett almost Killed by the murderer. Besides, there are only two maids and a cook, and they are unlikely to be the murderer. The only possibility! Yes, I know it sounds crazy-but there is only one possibility, and the murderer is in this room One of the three people who saw the show. That means the killer went out in the dark, beat Emmett with a stick, put on his clothes, gave Chesney a poison capsule, and crawled back here before the lights came on." "No, sir, that sounds possible," Elliott replied matter-of-factly. "But what else do we know?" Elliott didn't answer.He knew they couldn't jump to conclusions now.They couldn't even be sure how Marcus Chesney died until after the autopsy, only that the cyanide in the prussic acid probably died.But the possibility mentioned by the police chief had occurred to him. He looked around the music room.It was about fifteen feet square, with gray and gilt panels.The floor-to-ceiling windows are covered with dark gray heavy goose down curtains.As for the furniture, the only thing in the room was a grand piano, a gramophone, a high chest of drawers by the door leading to the corridor, four small easy chairs with brocade, and two footstools.The center is fairly empty, and one can walk through the dark room without bumping into things, as long as one is careful to avoid the grand piano by the window.The carpet is so thick that you can't hear your footsteps when you walk on it. "By the way, let's experiment and see." The police chief said. The light switch was behind a cupboard by the door leading into the hallway; Elliot flipped the switch and darkness fell.The lights were so bright that the phantom of the electric chandelier candles still flickered before Elliott's eyes in the darkness.Even with the curtains open, objects are still not clearly visible against the backdrop of an overcast sky.There was a rattling sound when the curtains were drawn tight. "I'm waving," said the police chief's voice from the darkness. "Can you see me?" "Out of sight," Elliott said. "Stay still, I'm going to open the double doors." He groped his way, dodged chairs, and found the door.The door opens easily and hardly makes a sound.Walking eight or nine feet forward, he found the table, and he groped for the copper lamp with his hands.He turned the switch, and a blinding white light was reflected on the opposite wall.Elliot stepped back to study it from the music room. "Hmm!" said Major Crowe. The only living thing in the study is the clock.They saw the clock on the mantelpiece of fine wood behind the dead man's head, relentlessly busy.It was a large brass clock, with dials six inches in diameter and a small brass pendulum that swung back and forth.Below the bell sits the silent dead.The time is twelve fifty-five midnight. The table was mahogany with brown blotting paper on it; the brass lamp stood in front of the table, slightly to their right.They saw chocolate boxes decorated with blue flowers.Standing on tiptoe, Elliott could see the pencils lying on the blotting paper, but not the pens Marjorie Wells described. On the wall to their left, they could make out a French window.Against the wall to their right stood a desk with a roll-away top, on which was a lamp with a green shade; and a very long steel filing cabinet, painted and trimmed to look like wood.Also, a chair and a pile of magazines or catalogs spilled on the floor.They saw the study framed in the door.From the position of the chairs in the music room, the three witnesses sat about fifteen feet from Marcus Chesney. "I don't see anything," said Major Crowe suspiciously. "What about you?" Elliott's eyes were once again drawn to the origami he had seen before, tucked behind the handkerchief in the pocket of the deceased man's coat. "That's it, sir," he pointed out. "According to Miss Wells, it must be Mr. Chesney's questionnaire." "Yes, but so what?" exclaimed the Chief Constable. "Suppose he prepared a questionnaire, then—" "Listen, sir," Elliott seemed eager to shout, "can't you see that this show is designed as a series of traps for the witnesses? There may be tricks in half the things they see, and the murderer Using subterfuge. The subterfuge helped him, covered him, and probably still covers him today. If we could know what they saw, or think about what they saw, we might have a clue. Unless Mr. Chesney's The plan provides murderer protection, otherwise even a madman would not commit such a nonsense public murder! Leave the mistake to the police, hide behind an alibi yourself, God knows what! Understand?" Major Crowe looked at him. "You will forgive me, Inspector," he said suddenly politely, "if I thought your manner was odd all evening. I would also like to know how you knew the last name of Miss Wells' fiancé. I did not mention it. " — (Oh, damn it!) "sorry sir." "Don't say that," Crowe replied politely, "I don't mind at all. Besides, I agree with you about the question sheet. Let's see what we can learn from the question sheet. You're quite right, If there are any trap questions, or questions about traps, they will be on the form." He took the paper from the dead man's pocket, unfolded it, and spread it out on the blotting paper.The following is written in a clean, beautiful handwriting. Answer the following questions correctly: 1. Is there a box on the table?If so, describe it. 2. What items do I pick up from the table?In what order? 3. What time was it? 4. What is the height of the person entering through the floor-to-ceiling windows? 5. Describe the person's clothing. 6. What is he holding in his right hand?Describe this item. 7. Describe his actions. What did he remove from the table? 8. What did he make me swallow?How long did it take me to swallow it? 9. How long was he in the room? 10. Who speaks?What did you say? NOTE: The correct answer to each of the above questions must be answered or the answer will not count. "Seems straightforward," Major Crowe murmured, "but there are pitfalls. See 'Caution.' You seem to be right about the fake capsule swallowing. See question 8. And—" He folded the paper and handed it to Elliott, who carefully placed it in his notebook.Then Major Crow stepped back to the double doors, his eyes fixed on the clock: "And, as I said—" At this moment the door to the corridor opened and a light passed through the music room.Silhouettes of people appeared, and they saw a bald head glowing against the light. "Hello!" said a high-pitched voice, "who's there? What are you doing there?" "Police," said Major Crowe, "it's all right, come in, Ingram. Could you please turn on the light?" After a moment of groping, the newcomer fumbles behind the cupboard and turns on the light.Eliot learned that his first impression of Professor Gilbert Ingram in the atrium at Pompeii had to be revised. Professor Ingram has a kind and radiant round face, a little fat, lively movements, giving the impression of stubby stature.The impression of stubby stature was reinforced by honest-looking blue eyes, a button nose, and two tufts of black hair bristling over the ears on a bald head.His expression, which liked to look down playfully and look up mockingly, was softened now; not only relaxed, but a little frightened.His face was mottled; the shirtfront had a deep crease and bulged at the vest like dough rising in an oven; the fingers of his right hand rubbed together as if to remove chalk from them.In fact, Elliott considered him to be of average height and not very fat. "Rebuilding the site, is it?" he said. "Good night, Major. Good night, Inspector General." His demeanor was easy and polite, the kind that contained everyone in a smile, lashing like a whip over a troop of horses.Eliot's main impression of Professor Ingram is: on that honest face, there is a cleverness of insight. "This, I suppose," he went on hesitantly, "is the Inspector of Scotland Yard that Joe Chesney mentioned to me? Good night, Inspector." "Yes." Major Crowe replied.He added suddenly, "You know! We're depending on you." "Depend on me?" "Well, you're a psychology professor, and you're not going to be fooled by tricks. You said you wouldn't. You can tell us what's going on in this damn show, can you?" Professor Ingram looked over the double doors.His expression was unpredictable. "I suppose so!" he said dryly. "It's good of you to come!" said Major Crowe, as if he had met a soulmate. "Miss Wells has told us that there is fraud in this show." "Oh. You've seen her?" "Yes. Judging from the clues we have obtained, this performance is designed as a series of traps—" "Not only that," said Professor Ingram, looking directly at Major Crowe, "I happen to know that the show was designed to show that the chocolates in Mrs. Terry's shop were poisoned without anyone seeing the murderer do it. "