Chapter 7 Chapter 7 Different Statements

"First question. Is there a box on the table? If so, describe it. Miss Wells?" Marjorie's soft mouth turned serious.She stared at Elliott with anger in her eyes. "If you think it's important, I'll answer it." She told him, "But it's a bad question, isn't it? Sitting here, asking stupid questions, and He—" She looked toward the closed door, then looked away. "That's an important question, Miss Wells. Is there a box on the table? If so, describe it." "Of course there's a box on the table. It's on Uncle Marcus's right, near the front of the table. A two-pound box of Henry's Chocolate Caramel. I can't see the label because I'm sitting, but I know it's Henry's Chocolate Caramel, Because the box has bright green flowers on it."

George Harding turned to look at her. "Nonsense!" he said. "What nonsense?" "The color of the flowers," Harding said, "I don't know the brand of chocolate, but I agree it's a two-pound box with flowers on it. But the flowers aren't bright green, they're dark blue, definitely blue." Marjorie's expression didn't change, she turned her head in a haughty and graceful manner: "Honey," she murmured, "it's been scary enough tonight, don't make me unhappy, make me want to scream, please don't .Those flowers are green! Men always mistake green for blue. Don't, don't, don't—not tonight."

"Oh, well, if you think so," Harding said contritely, "no, I'd go to hell if those flowers were green!" dark blue, and—” "Dear--" "Wait a minute," broke in Elliott sharply. "Professor Ingram should be able to arbitrate. Shouldn't you, sir? Which answer is right?" "Both are right," Ingram crossed his fat legs leisurely, "At the same time, both answers are wrong." "But we can't all be wrong!" Harding protested. "I think you might," said Professor Ingram politely, turning to Elliott. "What I told you, Inspector, is the truth. I can explain it now, but I'd rather wait. There will be a question later. Explain what I mean."

Elliott looked up. "How do you know what questions are coming, sir?" he asked. Silence fills the room, and you almost think you can hear the ticking of the clock in the study— "Of course I don't know," replied Professor Ingram mildly. "I just expected such a question to appear on the list." "You haven't looked at the watch, have you, sir?" "No. For God's sake, Inspector, don't bother me with trifles at this time. I'm an old warhorse. These tricks are old tricks, and I've used them a thousand times in class myself. I know them." But, just as I will not be deceived by them, do not fall into the trap I set. If you continue to ask the questions on that form, you will understand what I mean."

"It's green," said Marjorie, staring at the corner of the ceiling with half-closed eyes. "It's green, green, green. Go on." Elliott picks up his pencil: "Then comes the second question. What do I pick up from the table? In what order?" He explained, "What did Mr. Chesney pick up from the table the first time he sat down?" ? In what order did he pick it up? Miss Wells?" Marjorie said at once: "I told you. When he sits down, he picks up a pencil and pretends to write on a blotter, then puts the pencil down. Then he picks up a pen, and pretends to write with a pen. He Put down the pen before the man in the top hat comes in."

"What do you think, Mr. Harding?" "Yes, that's right," admitted Harding, "at least the first half. He picked up a pencil! Blue or black—and put the pencil down. But the second item wasn't a pen. It was another Pencil, about the same color, but shorter." Marjorie turned her head again: "George," she said still softly, "are you doing this on purpose to torture me? Please tell me the answer. Do you object to everything I say?" And she yelled , "I know it's a pen. I see the little nib and tip, and it's blue or black; a little pen. Please don't—"

"Well, if you're going to put it that way," Harding said in a tone of damaged self-esteem, his expressive eyes looking at her; to Elliot's chagrin, her expression became concerned.In Eliot's mind was a picture of the couple, in which Harding's boyish charm spreads its tyranny over a brilliant and admirable woman, causing chaos. "I'm sorry," said Marjorie, "but I insist it's a pen." "pencil." "What do you think, Professor Ingram. Pen or pencil?" "Actually," replied the professor, "neither."

"My God!" said Major Crowe softly. Professor Ingram raised his hand: "Don't you understand?" He asked, "Don't you understand that all this is a trick and a trap? What do you expect?" He looked a little angry, "Marcus just set up a trap for you. A common trap, and you fall headlong into it. First! As you say - he picks up an ordinary pencil and pretends to write with it. This scene is etched in your mind. Then he picks up something that's neither a pen nor a pencil (nothing like a pencil in any size or shape) and pretend to write on it. Immediately you have the mental illusion of 'seeing a pen or pencil'. But it's neither a pen nor a pencil."

"So what is it?" Elliott asked. "I don't know. But—" Ingram's honest eyes twinkled, "Hold on, Inspector. Wait!" He suggested in a somewhat unprofessional tone, "I promise to tell you where the trick is. I promise to point out the loopholes." .But I won't promise to tell you what he picked up, and I admit I don't know." "But can't you describe it?" "Something to describe." The professor looked rather displeased. "It's sort of like a fountain pen, but narrower and much smaller; the color is dark blue, I think. I remember Marcus had a hard time picking it up."

"Yes, sir, but what does the object look like?" "I don't know. I can't figure it out. It's—wait!" Ingram's hands gripped the arm of his chair, and he was so excited that he jumped up, a wave of joy flooded his face, and he yelled "Hoohoo!" ’, glaring at everyone, “I have the answer,” he continued, “I now know what it is.” "What, sir?" "That's a blowgun." "what?" "I suppose so," the professor told them, as if he had overcome some great obstacle, "there are some blowguns in the Natural History Museum of the University. They are not three inches long, wooden, silver-plated, black, and sharp-pointed. South American or Malay or Bornean; my conception of geography has always been confused."

Elliott looked at Marjorie: "Does your uncle have a blowgun at home, Miss Wells?" "No, of course not. At least, not as far as I know." Major Crowe intervened with interest: "You mean," he said to Professor Ingram, "a poisoned arrow?" "No, no, no, not necessarily. I'm just pointing out that conjectures, when colored by the imagination, are often a million miles from the truth. Soon we'll have someone who remembers seeing the poison on the arrow, and we'll be Confused. Calm down!" Ingram said.He took a deep breath and stretched. "I'm just saying I saw something that looked like a blowgun. Got it? Go ahead and ask questions." George Harding nodded: "Yes," he agreed—Elliot caught a curious look on Harding's face as he glanced at the professor.The look disappeared instantly, and Elliot couldn't explain it, "We seem to be making limited progress. Ask questions." Elliot hesitated.The new claims disturbed him, and he wanted to fight back.But he didn't want to rush, he glanced at the list of questions, "The next question must be about the man who is fully clothed entering through the French window. What time was it?" "Twelve midnight," said Marjorie at once. "About twelve o'clock midnight," admitted George Harding. "To be more precise," said Professor Ingram, clasping his hands together, "it should be eleven fifty-nine past midnight." At this point he hesitated slightly, and Elliott asked a question that seemed to be what he expected. "Yes, sir. But I have a question. Do you know the time is eleven fifty-nine from your watch, or from the clock on the mantelpiece in the study? I know the clock is right now, but must it be right then?" Professor Ingram said dryly: "I've thought about it. I don't know if Marcus might have ticked the clock to give a fake time in front of us. But I'm sure it's fair game." He looked annoyed. , "That kind of trick doesn't follow the rules. It's an observation test. We can't see our own watches when Marcus orders the lights to turn off. So if he gives us a clock, the only thing we can tell time from is that clock. I take it that As an appointment. I can tell you the time on the clock when it happened. But I cannot tell you whether the time on the clock is accurate." Marjorie said, "Well, I can. Of course the clock is accurate." She said fiercely, surprised, confused, as if she hadn't expected this development, or as if she was impatient with other people's ignorance. "I have reason to know," she told them. "Oh, it's not a matter of observation! I can easily prove it. Of course the clock is accurate. But what difference does it make?" "There's a difference," said Major Crowe. "Alibi makes a difference to someone who isn't here." "Joe Chesney," Professor Ingram murmured, then whistled. "Excuse me!" he added politely. He used to impress everyone with a quick smile, now he impresses everyone with a slippery word.Eliot wondered how the dictionary defined the word "suggestion."No matter how it is defined, this sentence has disturbed a pool of spring water. "Uncle Joe?" Marjorie cried. "What's the matter with him?" "Go ahead and ask questions!" the professor suggested, giving her a reassuring smile. Elliott took a quick note and decided to speed up. "If you don't mind, we'll get to those questions later. Please answer the questions as briefly as possible. Next: How tall is the person entering through the French windows?" "Six feet," Marjorie answered quickly, "he's as tall as Wilbur, and we all know how tall Wilbur is. Wilbur's as tall as Uncle Joe—"—she stopped. "Six feet is probably about right," Harding decided after reflection, "probably a little more than six feet, but that's probably the effect of that crazy-looking hat." Professor Ingram cleared his throat and said, "There is nothing crazier than constantly arguing about these things." Apparently, Professor Ingram's temper is about to explode, and the "hint" can stir up such a big wave——Marjo Li's eyes were unusually bright. "Oh, I can't stand it! You're not going to tell us he's short and fat?" "No, my dear, calm down." Professor Ingram looked at Elliott. "I have the answer, Inspector. The man coming in through the French window was about five feet nine inches tall—probably Mr. Harding's or my own." Height. Or maybe he's a six-footer, but he walks on his knees so he looks shorter. Anyway, he's about five-nine." — There was a silence. Major Crow wiped his forehead with his hand in the tortoiseshell spectacles that ruined his soldierly qualities.He's been taking notes on the back of the envelope. "Hi!" he said. "yes?" "Now I'm asking you," said the chief of police in a rage, "I'm asking you, what answer did you give? He could be five feet nine, he could be six feet. Look, Ingram, I think You're brainwashing everybody, you're against for the sake of being against, do you want to hear the score so far?" "Appreciate further details." "Well, you can all agree there's a two-pound box of chocolates on the table, and the first item Chesney picked up was a pencil. But the other answers vary wildly. I've noted my own list of questions." He Hand the envelope to Professor Ingram, who inspects it, and passes it on to read its contents as follows: What color is the chocolate box? Miss Wells: Green. Mr. Harding: Blue. Prof. Ingram: Both. What was the second item Chesney picked up? Miss Wells: - A pen. Mr. Harding: A pencil. Professor Ingram: A blowgun. What time was it? Miss Wells: Twelve midnight. Mr. Harding: About twelve midnight. Professor Ingram: Eleven fifty-nine past midnight. How tall is the guy in the hat? Miss Wells: Six feet. Mr. Harding: Six feet. Professor Ingram: Five feet nine. "The only thing that everyone agrees about is about the time," continued Major Crowe, "and that time may not be right at all." Professor Ingram stood up. "I don't know you, Major," he said. "You want me to tell you what happened from an expert perspective. You expect my answers to be different. You want to find out. What's the point. But when I tell you my opinion, you're not happy." "I know, it's good to express your opinion," Major Crowe pointed to the envelope, "but what about the chocolate box? The box may be green or blue, but it can't be green and blue, And you said it was green as well as blue. Now you might be interested to know," Major Crowe insisted despite Elliott and Postrek's efforts to stop him, "you might be interested to know that the box in the study is blue Yes, with blue flowers on it. The only other item on the table is a flat pencil. No sign of a second item: neither pen, pencil, nor blowgun. A blue chocolate box, a pencil, nothing else stuff. What else do you say?" Professor Ingram sat down with a sarcastic smile and said, "If you give me the chance, I'll explain." "Well, well," growled Major Crow, raising his hand as if in a bow, "explain whenever you want. I'll stand back. You ask, Inspector. Sorry." I'll cut in, it's your turn to act." Over the next few minutes, Elliott gradually realized that the debate was drawing to a close.The next two questions and half of the questions after that have almost the same answers.Questions about the ugly goblin entering through the French windows: describe the person's clothing; what is he holding in his right hand?Describe this item; describe its actions. It can be seen from the answers that the ugly characters impress them deeply.From top hats to brown wool scarves, sunglasses, raincoats, black pants, evening shoes, no detail was left out.Each correctly described the R. H. Nemo, M. D．Black bags with white letters, the only new detail is that visitors wear rubber gloves. This unanimous answer puzzled Elliott until he remembered that each Witness had more than one opportunity to study the costume.Most of Nemo's belongings, including the black wig, were left outside the French study window.The Witnesses saw them not only during the show, but they also saw them when they went out to find Wilbur Emmett. They also have a clear view of the movements of the visitors on the stage.Nemo, wearing sunglasses, stood in the white light, bowed and nodded in his giant shadow, and this figure seemed to fill their hearts like a nightmare.They describe the person entering, they describe how Nemo turned to look at them when he heard George Harding's casual jeer.They described how he put the bag on the table with his back to them.They describe how he walked to the right of the table, took a pill box from his pocket, pulled out a capsule, and— But where is the clue? That's what Elliott wanted to know.He was about to finish asking questions, but still couldn't figure it out.What if the witnesses disagree? "Things are starting to come together," he told them, "let's move on to the questions. What did he remove from the table?" Three voices sounded almost simultaneously—— "No," said Marjorie. "No," said George Harding. "Yes," said Professor Ingram. In the commotion that followed, Harding said firmly, "Sir, I swear he didn't. He never touched the table. He—" "Of course he didn't," said Marjorie, "and besides, what could he have taken? The only thing that seemed to be missing was a pen, or a pencil, or a blowgun, whatever you two called it—but I know he didn't take it. Uncle Marcus put it on the blotter in front of him, and the man in the top hat never went near the blotter in front of Uncle Marcus, so he could take it. What are you going for?" Professor Ingram asked everyone to be quiet."That's what I've been trying to tell you," he said, looking a little unhappy. "To be precise: He took the green flower Henry's box of milk candy chocolates and replaced it with the blue flower Henry peppermint cream bonbons. You guys I'll give facts if they want facts. Don't ask me how he did it! When he put the black bag on the table, he put it in front of the green box. When he took the bag and walked out of the room, the table The box above is blue. Let me rephrase: don't ask me how he changed boxes. I'm no magician. But I think the answer to a couple of ugly poison kills is contained in that little trick. I suggest you use your brains. I'm sure this will take some of Major Crowe's suspicions away; and, before I lose my temper again, can someone give me a cigarette?"