Chapter 7 missing will

The questions Miss Violet Marsh posed to us made for a pleasant change in our routine.Poirot received a flamboyantly commercial note from the lady asking for an appointment.Poirot agreed, and asked her to come and meet us at eleven o'clock the next day. She came to the appointment on time - tall figure, dignified and generous face, plain and neat clothes, giving people a capable and orderly impression.Obviously, this is a woman who has been in the society and seen the world.I don't dare to have many compliments on this so-called "new woman". Although she is still pretty, it is still difficult for me to have any special affection for her.

"My case is a little unusual, M. Poirot," she said, as she sat down. "I'd better tell you the cause of it from the beginning." "I'm all ears, miss" "I was an orphan. My father and brother were the sons of a small farmer in Devon. The farm was not very fertile and my elder uncle, Andrew, emigrated to Australia. , he became a very rich man. My father, Roger, was not interested in farming. He tried to educate himself, and studied himself, until he got a clerkship in a small firm; his wife ( My mother) had slightly higher family status than him: my mother was the daughter of a poor artist. My father died when I was six. My mother went with him when I was fourteen. My only surviving relative was my uncle Andrew. He had just returned from Australia and had bought a small piece of land in his birthplace—Apple Farm. He was very fond of his brother's orphan and took care of me well. In every possible way, he let me live in the apple farm with him, and treated me like his own daughter.

"Apple Manor—despite its nice name, in fact, it is just an old farm. Running farmland is a deep-rooted concept of my uncle, and he is particularly interested in all kinds of modern agricultural equipment. Although he treats me very well Well, but he has some stubborn eccentricities on the subject of the education of women. He himself is a man with little or no education, and although he is very capable in his work, he despises so-called book knowledge, especially Oppose women to accept book knowledge. In his view, girls should learn to do some practical housework or daily trivial affairs, which should be useful to the family and try to stay away from books. He trained and educated me according to his thinking, let me Disappointed. I defy it openly, I know I have a good brain and no talent for housework. My uncle and I, although we care about each other and are very close, are both very strong personalities Because of this, we had many disputes. I was very lucky to get a scholarship and, to some extent, succeeded in choosing my life path according to my own ideas. When I got off Our conflict came to a head when I resolved to go to Girton. I had a small sum of money of my own, which my mother had left me, and I was determined to make the most of the talents God had given me. To this end, I had a long dispute with my uncle. I had my last argument with my uncle on a weekend nine years ago, when he laid before me the fact that he had no other relatives and that he intended to make me His only heir. As I have told you, he is a very rich man. However, if I am stubborn, do not expect anything from him. I try to be polite, but I am determined , I told him that I always had a deep affection for him, but I had to go my own way in life. When we parted he said: 'You use your head to think about it, I don't have any book education, nonetheless, No matter when, I am willing to use my brain to compete with your wisdom, and I want to see who wins and who loses!'”

"We've been on good terms since then, although his views haven't changed in the slightest, he never mentions my admission to college or my bachelor's degree. His health has been going from bad to worse for the last three years. A month ago ,He passed away. "Now, I come to the purpose of my visit. My uncle left a very strange will. According to the provisions of the will, 'Apple Farm', and all the income of the estate, from the date of his death within a year from the beginning of the year—'during which my clever niece will prove her wit'—these are his words. After a year, 'if it proves that I am smarter than she', the house, and The large estate that my uncle owned will be bequeathed to various charities."

"That would be a little too cruel for you, since you are Mr. Marsh's only blood relation." "I don't think so. Uncle Andrew has warned me many times beforehand--he's fair--but I've chosen my own way. Since I won't do what he wants, he has every right to reason to leave his money to whomever he pleases" "Was that will drawn up by a lawyer?" "No, it was written on a will form, and was witnessed by a couple who lived in 'Apple Farm'; the couple had been responsible for the uncle's care." "This will invalidate the will."

"I don't want to do that." "Then you see it as a just challenge from your uncle?" "That's exactly how I see it." "Of course, another explanation is needed," said Poirot thoughtfully. "In this old house, your uncle must have hidden some cash somewhere; A will. He gives you a year to test your wits, and to find them in the meantime." "It is true, Monsieur Poirot. I have come to visit you out of admiration, and trust that your wisdom will be more useful than mine." "Aha! But you are very wise to do so. My extraordinary wisdom is about to work for you. Didn't you do any search yourself?"

"Just a hasty search, but I have sincere respect for my uncle's unquestionable ability. I don't simply think it's an easy job." "Did you bring that will or a copy?" Miss Marsh handed a document to this side of the table. Poirot looked it over and nodded himself: "This will was made three years ago, dated the twenty-fifth of March, and the time is stamped - eleven o'clock in the morning - which is interesting. The scope of the inquiry is thus narrowed. It must still be There is another will. We must find it. Even another will made half an hour later would be enough to invalidate this one. Well, madam, the difficulty you have set before me is challenging, It requires my brains. I am willing to serve you wholeheartedly, and to solve this problem satisfactorily for you. Although your uncle is a man of extraordinary ability, his wisdom cannot surpass Poirot!"

To tell the truth, Poirot's conceit has always been undisguised! "Fortunately, I have nothing important to do at present, and Hastings and I set out to 'Apple Farm' to-night. The farmer and his wife who tended your uncle must still be there? " "Yes, they are the Bakers." The next morning, we started our search.We had arrived at "Apple Farm" very late the night before.The Bakers had received a telegram from Miss Marsh in advance, and they were making preparations for our reception.The couple are delightful people.The husband has rough skin and rosy cheeks, like sweet apples shriveled and wrinkled after being stored for a long time; the wife is thick and bulky, with a calm expression.

After we got off the train, we drove another eight miles to 'Apple Farm'.After a supper of roast chicken, apple pie, and Devonshire cream, tired from the journey, we went to bed at once.Now, having just finished a hearty breakfast, we are sitting in a small room, Mr. Marsh's former study-sitting room, with papers piled high on the desk, stacked against the wall. very neat; a large leather rocking chair clearly indicated that this was the place where its owner used to rest; The seats were covered with the same faded chintz covers, very old fashioned. "Ah, my dear friend," said Poirot to me, lighting a cigarette,

"We must proceed according to our plan, and although I have had a cursory look at the house, I am inclined to think that there will be useful clues to be found in it. We have to go over the papers on the desk very carefully. , paper, of course, I don't expect to find the will in there, but those apparently useless papers are likely to cover up where the real will is hidden, and they will provide us with clues to find it. But first, we must Get some information. Please ring the bell." I rang the bell as he said.Waiting for someone to hear the bell ring, Poirot was pacing up and down the room, looking around with approving eyes.

"This Mr. Marsh is a very organized man, and you see how neatly the papers are stacked; and there are little ivory labels on the top of the keys in the locks of each drawer--so —The same label was affixed to the key of the china cabinet against the wall. The china in the china cabinet was so well ordered, it looked pleasing to the eye. Nothing here was out of order. No matter where the eyes look, they feel comfortable—” As he spoke, he stopped suddenly, and his eyes stopped on the desk key, which contained a dirty envelope.Poirot looked at it, frowned, and took the key out of the lock.On the envelope was scrawled: "Key to Roll-top Desk".This is very different from the neat and clear writing on other keys. "Strange handwriting," said Poirot, frowning. "I can swear it's not Mr. Marsh's usual practice, but who else has been in this room? Only Miss Marsh. If I'm not mistaken, This lady is also very methodical." Baker heard the bell and came in. "Can you call your wife too? I want to ask you a few questions" Baker went out again.A moment later he returned with his wife, Mrs. Baker wiping her hands on her apron as she walked, her face glowing with excitement.In a few words, Poirot explained clearly the mission of his visit, and the Bakers immediately expressed their sympathy. "We don't want to see Miss Violet lose what she deserves," the woman said categorically. "It would be very cruel to let those 'charity hospitals' get these properties, I mean for Miss Marsh." .” Poirot began to ask questions.Yes, Mr. Baker and Mrs. Baker well remember being witnesses to that will.Baker also went to a nearby town as ordered and bought two printed will forms. "Two copies?" asked Poirot sharply. "Yes, yes. To be on the safe side, I suppose. In case he ruined one of them - sure enough, he did later. We signed a will name--" "When was that?" Baker scratched his head, but his wife was quicker than him: "Ah, exactly he said, it was eleven o'clock, and I just put the milk in the cocoa, don't you remember? We're back in the kitchen when they were all boiled off the stove Spilled and got everywhere. " "and after?" "About an hour later, we were called again. 'I made a mistake and had to tear it up and start over. You'll have to ask me to sign again.' So we did. Afterwards, the master gave us A substantial sum each. 'I left you nothing in my will, but you will receive such a sum every year as a reserve as long as I live.' And he did." Poirot thought for a while: "Do you know what Mr. Marsh did after you signed your second name?" "Go out to the village and settle the bill with the merchant." This didn't seem to help, and Pilot tried to talk about this issue from another angle.He took out the key on the desk: "Is this written by your master?" I could think of it, but it was a moment before Baker replied, "Yes, sir, it was written by our master." "He's lying," I thought to myself, "but why would he do that?" "Has your master ever let anyone else in?—Has any master been in the house in the last three years?" "No, sir." "Are there any guests?" "Only Miss Violet." "Has no stranger of any kind ever come in?" "Yes, sir." "You forget about the workers, Jim," reminded his wife. "Workers?" asked Poirot, turning to her. "What kind of work?" The woman explained that about two and a half years ago, Mr. Marsh called in some workmen to do some repairs on the house, and she couldn't figure out what the repairs were.Her opinion seemed to be that the whole repair was a whim of his master's and quite unnecessary, and that the men who did the repairs had been in the study for a while, but what exactly they were doing, she didn't know.Because during the maintenance period, their master never let the two of them enter that room.Unfortunately, none of them can now remember the name of the company hired to do the repairs, except that it was in Plymouth. "We're making progress, Hastings," said Poirot, rubbing his hands after the Bakers had left the room. "It's clear that he made a second will, and then, having brought in repairmen from Plymouth, Put it in a hidden place. Instead of wasting time prying open floors and hollowing out walls, we might as well go to Plymouth." With only a little trouble we got what we wanted to know, and we found the firm which had employed Mr. Marsh.Their employees had been with the company for many years, so we had no trouble finding the two men who had repaired the study at Mr. Marsh's orders. They remembered that very well, and among all the various odd jobs they did, they remembered prying open a brick in the old-fashioned fireplace, hollowing out the fireplace to make a hole, and The bricks were put back in again.It was done so carefully that the seam between the brick and the fireplace could hardly be seen.They pressed another brick from the bottom of the fireplace, and the whole thing was done.It was a rather difficult job, and the old gentleman was very picky.The man who told us about it was Gogan, a tall, gray-bearded, intelligent-looking guy. We returned to "Apple Farm", and we hurriedly opened the door of the study, Implement our actions based on our latest information.invisible on brick Any traces of reworking.But when we carefully removed a brick according to the worker's instructions, a deep hole immediately appeared in front of us.Pilo stretched his hand in impatiently, but the smug expression on his face suddenly changed to shock and dejection.All he grabbed were scraps of paper that had been burnt to ashes, and there was nothing else in the hole. "Damn it!" exclaimed Poirot angrily. "Someone's done it before us." We looked anxiously at the ashes of the scrap of paper, and it was evident that it was the remains of the will we were so anxious to find. Part of Baker's signature remained, but the terms of the will were missing. Poirot fell to the ground in a sudden on his feet.If we hadn't coped with it like this, then his expression would definitely be more amusing. "I don't understand," he growled, "who on earth destroyed this will? What was their motive?" "Could it be the Bakers?" I said my guess. "Why? They don't gain anything by doing it. If the place becomes the property of a hospital, they'd rather it go to Miss Marsh. Who would benefit by destroying the will? Charity hospitals — yes, but one should not be suspicious of charities." "Perhaps the old man changed his mind and destroyed the will himself." I guessed again. Poirot stood up and dusted his knees with his usual care. "It's possible," he admitted, "that might be a wiser idea of ​​yours, Hastings. Well, there's nothing we can do here. We've done what we can, and we've succeeded with our His wits took on this old Mr Andrew. Unfortunately, his niece will not benefit from our success." We drove at once to the station, and happened to catch a train for London, though it was not the express.Poirot looked sad and dissatisfied.As for me, I'm exhausted and huddled in a corner.Suddenly, just as we were pulling out of the station, Poirot screamed sharply: "Wake up, Hastings! Wake up, quick! Let's jump!" Before I figured out what was going on, we were already standing on the platform.My top hat and traveling bag had been left on the train, and I was furious as the train disappeared into the night, but Poirot didn't care. "I'm a fool!" he cried, "a complete fool! I'll never boast of my cleverness again!" "Anyway, you're doing pretty well," I said angrily, "but now, what the hell is going on here?" As usual, Poirot was obsessed with his own ideas and paid no attention to my words. "The merchant's ledger—how did I not think of that? Yes, but where is it? Don't worry, I can't make a mistake. We must hurry back. Easier said than done.We managed to catch a slow train and made it to Ecoster.There Poirot hailed a taxi.When we rushed back to the "Apple Manor", it was dawn.Waking up the Bakers, I could see the bewilderment on their faces.Without explaining anything to anyone, Poirot hurried into the study. "I'm not only a complete fool, but a hundred per cent fool, my friend," he went on and on, "look here! Now I've found it at last!" He went straight to the desk, took out the key, and unwrapped the envelope on it.I stared blankly at him.How could he expect to find such a large will form in such a small envelope?With the utmost care he cut the envelope, laid it flat, and spread it out.Then he lit a match and held the blank, unwritten side of the envelope to the flame.After a few minutes, the blurred handwriting gradually emerged. "Look, my dear friend!" cried Poirot in triumph. I saw.A few lines of indistinct writing appeared on it, briefly explaining that he left all his estate to his niece Violet Marsh.The time was 12:30 noon, March 25th, and the witnesses were Albert Pike, owner of a sweet shop; Jesse Pike, married woman. "But is it legal?" I gasped. "It is well known that there is no law against writing your will in invisible mixed ink. The testator's intentions are clear, and the beneficiaries are his only surviving relatives. But he foresees every step the searcher will take. And I, the complete fool, fell into his trap step by step. He got two will forms and had the servants sign them twice. Then, he took his will in a dirty envelope with invisible ink He went out with his pen. He made up an excuse and got the confectionery owner and his wife to sign their names under his own autograph. Then he folded the envelope and tied it to the back of his desk. On this key, I looked at it proudly and giggled to myself. If his niece sees through his little trick, she will prove that her life choice is appropriate, and her education is appropriate, so it is a matter of course. deserves his money." "She didn't see through it, did she?" I said slowly. "It seems so unreasonable, but the old man actually won." "No, Hastings, you've turned your head the wrong way again. Miss Marsh put the matter in my hands at once, a testament to her intelligence and the value of women's education. People do great things Always hire top-notch experts to help. This smart move by her qualifies her for the money." I was amazed at Poirot's magnanimity, and wondered what old Andrew Marsh, under the sun, would think of it.