Chapter 17 Chapter Sixteen

I found out when Sheila Webb slipped out of the courtroom quietly.Her testimony was well done.She looked tense, but not terribly tense, but naturally tense. (What would Baker say? "Good acting." I could almost hear him!) "After hearing Dr. Rigg's astonishing testimony (Dick Hardcastle didn't tell me this, but he must have known it), I chased it out." "It's not as bad as you think it is?" I said when I caught up with her. "Yes, easy actually. The coroner was very nice," she hesitated. "What will happen again?" "The inquest will be adjourned—for further evidence. Perhaps for two weeks, or until they can identify the deceased."

"Do you think they'll find out who he is?" "Oh, yes," I said, "they'll find out who he is, no problem." She shuddered. "it's very cold today." It wasn't really cold, I thought it was pretty warm. "How about a brunch?" I suggested to her. "You don't have to rush back to the club, do you? Do you?" "No, I don't go to work until two o'clock in the afternoon." "Let's go, then. How do you feel about Chinese food? I know a little Chinese restaurant down the street." She seemed hesitant.

"I have to go out and do some shopping." "You can go after dinner." "No, some stores are closed between one and two o'clock." "Forget it then. See you later, okay? Within half an hour?" She said yes. I went to the beach and sat under a shed.The sea breeze blows directly in front of you. I need to think.Remember that others know more about you than you do.It is really something to teach people to be angry.But Baker, Hercule Poirot, and Dick Hardcastle, indeed, saw very clearly what I now have to admit. I cared about this girl--in a way I never cared for any other girl.

Not because of her beauty—she was beautiful, an uncommon beauty—nor because of sexual attraction—I've had enough of that. All because - almost from the first meeting, I thought she was "mine" and yet I knew nothing about her! Just after two-five I went into the police station to look for Dick.He sat behind his desk with a pile of stuff on the table.He looked up and asked what I thought the interrogation would be like. I told him I thought it was going well. "It's something this country does very well." "What do you think of the medical proof?" "It was so sudden, why didn't you tell me beforehand?"

"You're out! Have you talked to your specialist yet?" "We talked about it." "I don't remember him very well. He had a big beard." "Like a jungle, he's very proud of it." "He must be very old." "Old, but not stupid," I said. "What's the real reason you went to see him? Is it purely compassionate?" "What a suspicious policeman's heart you have, Dick! That's the main reason, but I admit curiosity is part of it. I'd like to hear what he thinks of the actions we've taken. You know, he said he'd just sit Put your fingertips together on a chair, close your eyes and meditate. You can easily solve the case. I really want to say he is bluffing."

"Did you tell him all that happened?" "He knows it all." "What did he say?" Dick was curious. "He said," I told him, "it must be a simple murder." "Simple, my God!" said Dick, standing up. "How can I say it?" "As far as I know," I said, "because the whole case is so complicated." Hardcastle shook his head. "I don't understand," he said. "It sounds like the young people who live there, but I don't understand. Anything else?" "Well, he asked me to talk to the neighbors. I said we've done it."

"Given the medical evidence, leading people is even more important now." "Are you presuming that he was drugged elsewhere first, and then moved to No. 19 to kill him?" These words sound like I have heard them before, which makes me stunned. "It was that woman who kept cats with a name who said something similar. At that time, I was taken aback, and I thought her words were very interesting." "Those cats!" Dick couldn't help trembling.He continued: "By the way, we found the murder weapon, yesterday." "Really? Where did you find it?"

"Where the cats are. Probably left there by the murderer after the murder." "No fingerprints, I suppose?" "Wiped with great care. Someone else's knife--very recently--recently sharpened, perhaps." "So that's how it happened. He was drugged—and taken to Number Nineteen—in a car? How?" "'Probably' was carried over by one of the houses adjoining the garden at No. 19." "Isn't this too risky?" "Bold indeed," agreed Hardcastle, "and must have a good knowledge of the habits of the neighbourhood. Carriage might be more probable."

"It's the same risk. The car attracts attention." "No one saw it, but I agree there's no way the killers knew they wouldn't be seen. A passerby must have noticed a car parked in front of Gate 19 that day." "I don't think anyone will notice," I said. "People are used to cars. Unless, of course, it's a different car—and that's impossible—" "Of course it's lunch time. Colin, do you understand?" Now Miss Millesn Pebmarsh was involved again.Considering the impossibility of a strong man getting stabbed to death by a blind woman—if he's drugged—"

"In other words, as Mrs. Hemm said 'he came here to die', he came here at an appointment, had no doubts, had a glass of sherry or a cocktail--' When the 'ghost' had done its work, Miss Pebmarsh set to work. Then she washed the glass, laid the body neatly on the floor, threw the knife into the neighbor's garden, and went out as usual." "Calling the Cavendish Agency on the way—" "But why would she do that? And name Sheila Webb in particular?" "Wish we knew," said Hardcastle, looking at me. "She knew? Did the girl know herself?"

"She said she didn't know." "She said she didn't know," Hardcastle said flatly. "I was asking you, what 'you' think?" I didn't speak for a long time.what do i thinkNow I must make up my mind.The truth will eventually come out.If Sheila is alone as I think she is, she won't be hurt. Suddenly, I pulled a postcard from my pocket and shoved it in front of Hardcastle. "This is for Shera." Hardcastle glanced at it. It was one of a series of postcards of London buildings—Central Criminal Court.Hardcastle turned it over. On the right was the address--handwriting. Miss R. S. Webb.14, Palmerston Road, Crowtown, Sussex.On the left side, the handwriting is also correct, with the word "remember" written, and 4:13 is written at the bottom. "Thirteen past four," said Hardcastle, "that is the time shown on the clock face of that day." Stay', time—four thirty. Must have something to do with it." "She said she didn't know what it meant." Then I added, "I believe her." Hardcastle nodded. "Keep on scouting about this, maybe we can find something." "I hope so." In order to break the awkward situation between the two of us, I said: "You have quite a lot of 'official documents'." "It's all common, and most of them are useless. The deceased has no criminal record, and his fingerprints are not in the file. The information here is provided by those who thought he knew him." He read: "My dear sir, the man in the papers, I am almost certain to be the man who boarded the train at Willesden station the other day. He was talking to himself, with a sudden excitement, and I When I saw it, I felt something was wrong with this person.” "My dear sir, I think this man looks very much like my husband's cousin John. He went to South Africa, but perhaps came back again. He used to have a mustache when he went abroad, but he could of course shave it off." "Dear sir, last night I saw the man reported in the newspaper on the subway, and I thought he was a bit strange." "Some women often think they know their husbands, but they don't! Some mothers and sons have been separated for 20 years, and they still confidently think they know their sons." "Here, here's the Missing Persons list, but it's of no use. 'George Barlow. Sixty-five years old. Missed from home. Wife thinks he must have lost his memory.' Lots of money. He's been seen hanging around with a red-haired widow, and swindled once." "The next one is: Professor Hargrave, who was supposed to give a speech last Tuesday, but didn't show up, neither called nor wrote to explain why." Hardcaster seemed to take Professor Hargrave seriously. missing. "He probably thought the speech was a week ago or a week later," he said. "Maybe he thought the butler had said he had an appointment that day, but the butler forgot. We've seen that happen a lot." The bell on Hardcastle's desk rang.He picked up the receiver. "Hello?...What...who found her? Did she say her name?...I see, let's continue." He put down the receiver.When he turned his face, his face was serious. "A girl was found dead in a public phone booth in Wilbham Lane," he said. "Dead?" I asked with wide eyes, "How did you die?" "Hanged. With her scarf!" I suddenly felt cold all over. "What kind of girl? It can't be..." Hardcastle gave me a cold, evaluating look which I did not like. "Not your girlfriend," he said, "if you're worried about her life. The policeman seemed to recognize the dead man. He said she was a girl from the same office as Sheila. Her name was Ina Brant." "Who found her, policeman?" "Miss Watermons on the 18th discovered it. It was probably due to a malfunction in her home phone. When I went to the public phone booth, I found the girl lying on the ground curled up in a ball." One of the policemen opened the door and said, "Sir, Mr. Rigg called to say he's on his way. He'll meet you at Wilbraham Lane."

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