Chapter 11 The Adventures of Italian Nobles

Poirot and I had many friends and acquaintances who were not considered formal, but we got along very casually. Among them was Dr. Hawke. For a while, this amiable doctor had developed a habit of always getting along in the evening. Come and sit with us and chat with Poirot; he admires Poirot's talents with all his heart.The doctor himself is an open-hearted and unpretentious person, and he admires the wisdom in Poirot that he does not possess. One evening in early June, at about half-past eight, he came again, and after being comfortably seated in a chair, he began to chat cheerfully about cases of poisoning with arsenic that are popular nowadays.We chatted for about fifteen minutes when the living room door was knocked open and a panicked woman came in:

"Oh, Doctor, someone needs your help! It was a terrible sound. It made me jump. It was terrible!" I recognized Miss Ryder, Dr. Hawke's housekeeper.The doctor was a leather man who lived in an old house a few blocks from us.Miss Ryder, who was usually even-tempered, seemed to be speaking coherently, completely out of normalcy. "What terrible noise? Who is it? What's the matter?" "It was a voice on the phone, Doctor, I answered the phone, and the voice said, 'Help!' That's what it said. 'Doctor—Help! They're going to kill me!' Then the voice was indistinct.' Who are you?' I asked, 'Who's talking?' Then I heard the answer again, a voice that seemed to whisper something like 'Foscatini'—or 'Ray King Building'."

The doctor let out a cry. "Count Foscatini. He lives at Regin House, and I must go at once. What's going to happen?" "Is he one of your patients?" asked Poirot. "I visited him a few weeks ago for some minor illness. He is Italian, but his English is perfect. Well, I must take my leave. Good night, M. Poirot. Unless—" He hesitated. for a while. "I know what you're going to say," said Pogue, smiling. "I'd be glad to accompany you. Get a cab downstairs, Hastings." When a person urgently needs a ride, taxis are always difficult to meet.Finally, I finally stopped one, and after getting in the car, we immediately drove towards the "Rekin Building". Located just off St. John's Forest Avenue, "Rekin Building" is a new building with apartment suites, which has just been completed and is equipped with the latest service facilities.

There was no one in the hall.The doctor immediately called the elevator button.When the elevator came down, the uniformed attendant asked us where we were going with a stern attitude. "Count Foscatini's room, number eleven. I think something unexpected happened there." The man glared at him: "In the first place, as far as I know, Mr. Graves had gone out about half an hour ago. He was Count Foscatini's valet, and he said nothing at that time." "Is the count alone in the room?" "No, sir. He invited two gentlemen to dine with him." "Who are they?" I asked impatiently.

We got into the elevator and were quickly on the second floor, where Eleven is on the second floor. "I didn't see them with my own eyes, but I think they are two foreigners." He closed the iron gate.We stepped out of the elevator, and Room 11 was right across from us.The doctor rang the bell, but there was no answer inside, and we couldn't hear anything from inside.The doctor rang the doorbell several times, but apart from the sound of the doorbell, there was no movement inside. "It seems serious." The doctor whispered, and he turned to the elevator attendant:

"Is there a spare key that can open this room?" "There's one in the service downstairs." "Bring it right away, I think you'd better go to the police." Poirot nodded with satisfaction. The waiter ran away immediately.Soon he returned, bringing with him the manager of the apartment. "Gentlemen, can you explain to me what is going on here?" "Of course, I just received a call from Count Foscatini, who said he was attacked and was dying. You should understand that we must save any time, and I hope it will not be too late .” The manager didn't say anything more, and hurriedly took out the spare key and opened the door, and we all entered the room.

We first entered a small, square living room, the door to the right of which was ajar.The manager nodded and said to us: "This is a restaurant." Dr. Hawke led the way in, followed by us.When we entered, I gasped in surprise. There was a dinner reserved on the circular dining table in the middle of the restaurant, and the three chairs were slightly away from the dining table, as if the person sitting on it had just got up and left.In the corner near the right side of the fireplace, there is a large writing desk. Behind it sits a person—or he used to be a person. He still holds the phone in his right hand, but his body has fallen forward. The head was fatally blown from behind.The weapon of his death was soon discovered, a marble statue lying beside him, which had been toppled, its base still stained with blood.

The doctor's examination was over in less than a minute. "Totally dead, it must have been an instant death. I wonder how he's even been able to make a phone call. Best not to touch him until the police arrive." On the advice of the manager, we searched the entire room, but it turned out, as had been expected, that the murderer could not have remained there while he could have just lifted his leg. We went back to the dining-room again, and Poirot did not join us in searching the rooms.When I came back, I found him looking carefully at the table in the middle of the restaurant.I moved closer to him.It was a round table of polished mahogany, a vase of roses was placed in the center of the table as decoration, and a white plate cushion with lace was laid on the mirror-like table top; there was a fruit plate on the table, but three pots The captain was moved, and there were three cups with coffee left--two black coffees and one coffee with milk, all three must have had some coffee, and the half-full end of the coffee pot rested on the middle tray; One of the men smoked one Xueqian, the other smoked two cigarettes; Sheng Xueqian and the gray case of the cigarettes lay open on the table.

I silently took all this to heart, but I must admit that these circumstances did not help me understand the case.I wondered what kind of reasoning Poirot could have drawn from them, so absorbed was he.So, I questioned him. "Dear friend," he replied, "you've overlooked an important method. I'm looking for something I don't see." "what is that?" "A mistake - even a small mistake - a small oversight on the part of the murderer." He walked quickly to the small kitchen connected to the dining room, looked around, and shook his head again.

"Sir" he called the manager, "please tell me about the equipment and method of delivering food here." The manager walked to a small window on the wall. "This is the elevator for food delivery. It goes all the way to the kitchen on the top floor of the building. Meals are ordered by phone. The chef puts the food in this elevator and sends it down. Only one dish is delivered at a time, and the used plates It is sent up in the same way as the plate, so you don’t have to worry about these trivial matters at all; at the same time, you can avoid the troubles that rabbits will encounter when eating in restaurants.”

Poirot nodded: "So, the plates and dishes used for today's dinner have been sent to the kitchen on the top floor. Will you allow me to go up and have a look?" "Oh, of course, if you like! Robert, the elevator man, will take you up and introduce you. But I'm afraid you won't find anything useful. They wash hundreds of dishes and plates, they are all put together" However, Poirot's attitude was very firm, he insisted on going up to have a look, we went up to the kitchen on the top floor together, and asked the person who had taken the menu number eleven. "The menu is for three people," he explained. "It's bouillon, fillet, steak, and rice and soufflé. What time do you ask? Oh, it's about eight o'clock in the evening." I'm afraid the plates and dishes have been cleaned by now. No luck. I suppose you want to check for fingerprints?" "Not quite," said Poirot. "I am more interested in Count Foscatini's appetite. Did he try a little of everything?" "Yes, but of course I can't tell how much he ate of each, since every plate was touched. The plate was empty—that is, except for the rice and soufflé, there was nothing on that plate. There's a lot left." "Ah!" replied Poirot, seeming satisfied with the fact. When we came down again into the room, he whispered to me: "We had to deal with a man who was organized." "Do you mean the murderer, or Count Foscatini?" "The latter is undoubtedly a well-organized gentleman, and after calling for help and speaking of the danger approaching him, he held the receiver very carefully with his hands up" I stared.What he said and the tone of his voice gave me a new idea. "You suspect poison?" I asked breathlessly, "then the blow to the head was an illusion." Poirot just smiled and said nothing. When we returned to the room again, we found a local police officer with two policemen on the scene. He seemed displeased with our presence, but Poirot mentioned to him our friend Jia from Scotland Yard. After Inspector General, we were allowed to stay.We were lucky to be able to stay, because five minutes later a middle-aged man burst into the room, his face full of grief and despair. It was Graves, Count Foscatini's valet, who gave us a very helpful account. On the previous morning two gentlemen had called on his master.They were all Italians, the older one was about forty, and he said he was Mr. Ascanio.The young one was about twenty years old and was very well dressed. Count Foscatini was clearly prepared for their visit and immediately sent Graves off to run some errands.Having said that, he paused for a while, hesitating for a while, but finally he admitted that out of curiosity about the purpose of this meeting, he did not follow the master's order to leave immediately, but lingered outside the door, wanting to hear something Conversation going on inside.The voices of all parties were very low, so he couldn't hear clearly, but he still vaguely heard some situations, which clearly showed that they were discussing money issues, and their words were full of threats from beginning to end, without the slightest sarcasm. Friendly atmosphere.At the end, Foscatini raised his voice a little, so that the eavesdroppers heard him say these words: "At present, gentlemen, we have no time to discuss this matter any further. If you come to dine with me at eight o'clock tomorrow evening, we will continue to discuss this matter." Graves was afraid that someone would find out that he was eavesdropping, so he hurried out to do his master's order, and the two men arrived punctually at eight o'clock this evening. During dinner, they talked about inconsequential things—politics, the weather, and theater performances.When Graves had put the dinner on the table and the coffee was ready, his host told him that he could do whatever he wanted tonight and that there was nothing left for him to do. "Is it normal for him to order you like that when you have guests?" asked the officer. "No, sir, it's not usually like that. That's why it makes me think that the conversation he's going to have with these gentlemen must be extraordinary." So Graves ended.He went out at about eight-thirty, met a friend, and went with him to the "Metropolis" music hall to kill so long. No one saw what time the two men left, but the time of the murder was clearly fixed at 8:47, and the little clock on the desk was knocked off the floor by Foscatini's arm, and it was there. He stopped moving for a moment.The time the clock stopped coincided with the time when Miss Ryder received the emergency call. The forensic doctor examined the body:, now, the body is placed on a large sofa. For the first time I saw the face clearly—olive face, long nose, bushy black beard, thick red lips turned up to reveal dazzlingly white teeth, it was a face that looked absolutely innocent. Unpleasant face. "Well," said the inspector, closing his note-book, "the case seems perfectly clear, and the only problem we have at hand is to find this Mr. Ascanio, whose address I suspect will not be Happened to be in the dead man's notebook?" As Poirot said, this Foscatini was an orderly man, and in his notebook there was a small but legible line: Mr. Ascanio, Hotel Glosswino. The officer was busy on the phone, then grinned at us and said: "Very timely, the gentleman we are looking for has just left for the Continent. Well, gentlemen, what we have to do here is over. It is a bad business, but the case is clear and extremely Maybe it's an Italian family feud or something." And just like that, the officer left the room with ease.We walked downstairs, and Dr. Hawke was very excited. "It's like the beginning of a novel, isn't it? It's very exciting, and you wouldn't believe it if you weren't there." Poirot said nothing, and he kept thinking seriously. Open your mouth again and speak. "What's your opinion, great detective, huh?" Hawke said, patting Poirot on the shoulder. "At this moment, isn't your cleverness still working?" "Do you think so?" "Then what did you think of?" "Like the windows in that room." "The windows were closed and no one could come in or go out through the windows. I noticed that especially." "Why did you notice it?" The doctor looked puzzled, and Poirot hastened to explain: "I mean, those curtains weren't drawn. It's kind of weird; and the coffee, it's very strong black coffee." "But so what?" "Very thick and very dark," repeated Poirot, "and thus leads us to think that the rice and the soufflé must have been used. So what are we to be inspired by?" "Coffee and soufflé," the doctor laughed. "These things you said have nothing to do with each other. You're just kidding me." "I never joke, and Hastings can attest to me, I'm pretty serious." "I don't understand what you're talking about," I admitted. "You don't suspect the valet, do you? He might be a member of the criminal gang who poisoned the coffee. I think they too Will provide him with an alibi." "Undoubtedly, my friend, but the evidence of the alibi of Mr. Ascanio interests me more." "You think he was not at the scene of the crime?" "That's exactly what worries me. I don't doubt we'll figure that out anytime soon." The "Daily News Guide" has given us a better understanding of the progress of the case in the future. Mr. Ascanio is arrested and charged with the murder of Count Foscatini. When he was arrested, he denied having seen the earl, and claimed that he had never been near Regin House on the morning before nor on the night of the crime.The young man disappeared without a trace. Mr. Ascanio had come to England alone from the European continent two days before the incident and stayed at the Glosswino Hotel.All attempts to hunt down the second individual failed. However, Ascanio was not brought to court.A political figure no less than the Italian ambassador himself testified separately at the police station that Ascanio had been with him at the embassy from eight to nine that night.Therefore, he was released.Naturally, the case was considered by many to be political, and it was deliberately kept secret from the public. Poirot showed keen interest in all these situations.However, I was a little surprised one morning when he suddenly told me that at eleven o'clock he was expecting a visitor, who was none other than Mr. Ascanio himself. "Does he wish to meet you?" "Ah, Hastings, it was I who wished to have an interview with him." "What are you talking about!" "Talking about the murder at Regin Mansion." "You intend to prove that he did it?" "A man can't be questioned twice for murder, Hastings, you ought to have the common sense. Ah, here's the bell from our friend." A few minutes later, Mr. Ascanio was shown into the room.He was short and thin, with a sly and deceitful eye.He stood motionless, looking alternately at me and at Poirot suspiciously. "Which one is M. Poirot?" My short friend patted his chest lightly. "Be seated, sir. Proof that you have received my letter. I am determined to bring to light the secrets of this case. You can help me in some way. Let us talk. You accompanied a friend at the Called on the Count Foscatini on the morning of the ninth, Thursday morning—" The Italian made an angry gesture. "It's nothing at all, I swore in court—" "Don't get excited—my feeling is that you swore a false oath." "Are you threatening me? Huh! I'm not afraid of anything, I've been proven guilty." "Indeed. I'm not an idiot, and I'm not threatening to hang you--I'm saying I'm going to reveal the secret, and get the public's attention! I can see you don't like that. I have a kind of Feeling, you don't like publicity. You know. My feeling is worth a lot to me. Calm down, sir, your only chance is to be honest with me and keep nothing from me I don't want to know whose secret mission you came to England, I know that you have a special purpose in coming to see Count Foscatini, and that is enough." "He's not a count!" growled the Italian angrily. "I have noticed this. His name has not been included in the "European Noble Genealogical Yearbook". Don't mind, the title of earl is often very useful in businesses such as blackmail and blackmail." "I think I'm still being nice to you. You seem to know a lot of things." "I will put my wits to good use. Tell me, Monsieur Ascanio. Is it true that you visited the dead on Thursday morning?" "Yes, but the next evening I didn't go there at all, it wasn't necessary! I'll tell you all about it. The scoundrel has information on an important person in Italy, and he's asking for a big I came to England to deal with this matter. I called on him that morning as promised, and a young secretary from the Italian embassy accompanied me there, although I paid him a sum A very large amount of money, but he himself acted more rationally than I thought, and he took it." "Please allow me to ask, what is your payment method?" "He was given Italian cash. I paid him right then and he handed over the alleged information to my face. I haven't seen him since." "Why didn't you tell this when you were arrested?" "My position is delicate and I must deny any connection with that person." "How do you understand what happened the next night?" "I can only assume that someone must have deliberately committed the murder under my name, so I understand that there is no money to be found in that house." Poirot looked at him and shook his head. "It's strange," he whispered, "that we all have talents, but few of us know how to use them. Good-bye, Mr. Ascani, I believe what you say, and it fits well with what I think." , but I must find evidence." After bowing, the guest exited the room.Poirot sat down again in his rocking chair and looked at me with a smile. "Let us hear Captain Hastings' view of the case." "Well, I think Ascanio was right - he said someone had committed a crime in his name that night." "Not at all, you never make good use of that part of your ingenuity which good God has given you. Think of what I said to you when I left that house that night. When I said the curtains were not drawn, Our current season is June. At eight o'clock in the evening, the sky is still very bright, and it will not get dark until half past eight. What does this mean? I have an impression, and one day you will understand Yes. Then look at the case again, as I said, the cup of coffee was very strong and black, but Count Foscatini's teeth were amazingly white, and black coffee will stain teeth. Therefore, We can infer that Count Foscatini never drank any coffee at all. However, there were coffee in all three cups, and some were drunk. Why would anyone make such an illusion, in Foscatini How can the Earl be believed to have drunk coffee when he has not drunk it at all?" I shook my head, still bewildered by all this. "Think then, I'll help you. What proof do we have that Ascanio and his friend, or the two impostors, were actually in the room on the night of the crime? No one looked We've seen them come in, and no one has seen them go out. We only have one man's testimony and a whole lot of lifeless stuff." "what do you mean?" "I mean the knives and forks and glasses and empty plates. Ah, what a clever idea! Graves is a thief and a villain, but what an orderly man he is! He overheard It was part of the speech, enough to make him realize that Foscatini would be in a very embarrassing position if he made his conduct public. About eight o'clock the next evening, he told his master that someone had He called, and Foscatini sat down at the desk and held out his hand to answer the phone. Graves, from behind him, knocked him down with a marble statue. Then he quickly dialed the phone and booked three people When the dinner came down, he set the table, set the plates, set the knives, forks, etc., but he had to eat some of the food. Not only was he a smart, well-organized person, his appetite Surprisingly large too. After three meals, he couldn't eat any more of those rice and soufflés, and he even smoked a snow front and two cigarettes to create an illusion. Ah, all of this Well done. Then he set the hands of the clock to eight forty-six and knocked it to the ground to stop it, and the one thing he failed to do was draw the curtains, and if it did If there had been a dinner party, the curtains should have been drawn as soon as it got dark, but he forgot. Then he hurried out and told the elevator man that there were guests. After that, he hurried rushed to a telephone booth, and at nearly 8:46, pretended to be his master's dying cries, and dialed the doctor. His idea was so clever, and he did it so beautifully, that no one thought to investigate that Did the call come from Room Eleven in time?" "My opinion is that only Hercule Pogue can have such doubts?" I said sarcastically. "It's not just Hercule Poirot," said my friend, with a smile on his face. "I'm going to investigate now. First, I'll have to prove my thoughts to you, but you'll see I'm right. Then Japp can arrest the venerable Graves. I have hinted at Graves, and I don't know how much he has squandered that money." Poirot was indeed right.He always values ​​himself correctly!