Chapter 14 Chapter Fourteen

Hercule Poirot said to the displeased Jeanne: "Thank you very much. You are very kind." Jenny pursed her lips and went out of the room, these foreigners!The questions they asked were really out of order!He said that he was an expert, and he was interested in Mr. Abernether's heart disease, which no one suspected. The owner must have died of a heart attack... He left very suddenly, and the doctor was also surprised.But what's the matter with this foreign doctor, who came here to ask questions? How are Mrs. Leo, what to say: "Please answer Pandariel's question, he has a good reason to ask."

Asking questions, always asking questions, sometimes asking you to answer the questions on a form as much as possible... What exactly does the government or other people want to know about your private affairs?Asking your age in a census questionnaire...that's out of order, and she didn't tell them the truth!She underreported her own age by five years, what's wrong?If she thinks she's only 54, she can call herself 54! But Mr. Pandariel did not ask her age.He is quite noble, but he just asks the master what medicine he takes, where he puts it, and if he feels uncomfortable, is it possible to overdose... Or he forgot to take it and took it again, as if she Should remember these trivial things... The master knows what he is doing!He also asked if there were any medicines left, but of course they had already been thrown away.Heart disease... He also said some long and difficult medical terms, and he always came up with new tricks. These doctors, let's see them tell old Roger that he has a strange tumor on his spinal cord And so on. In fact, his problem is simply low back pain.Her father was also a gardener, but he often suffered from low back pain.What doctor!

The man who called himself a doctor sighed and went downstairs to find Lan Scamber.He didn't get much out of Jenny, but he didn't expect to find out anything. His real purpose was just to check the information Helen Abernethy had provided him, and Helen Abernethy's The information given to him was also from the same source...but she was easier to get because Jenny thought Mrs. Leo had a right to ask her, and Jenny herself liked to make long talks about her master's last weeks of life, sickness and death Very much to her liking. Poirot thought that he could rely on the information Helen provided him.He really did this, but based on his nature and long-established habits, he didn't trust anyone before confirming it.

In any case, the evidence is sparse and unsatisfactory.In short, there is only one fact, and that is that Richard Abernether's prescription contained vitamin capsules, which were contained in a large medicine bottle, which was empty when he died. These capsules can be tampered with with a hypodermic syringe, and the capsules in the vial can be rearranged so that the one injected with the lethal agent is not consumed until weeks after the tamperer is gone. Lose.Or someone might have slipped into the house the day before Richard Abernether died and put a deadly capsule in the medicine bottle... or, more likely... Sleeping pills, or more bluntly, tampering with his food or drink.

Hercule Poirot had done the experiment himself. The front door was always locked, but there was a side door by the garden, which was left unlocked until nightfall.At about a quarter past one, when the gardener and all the family were off to lunch, Poirot went into the garden, came to the side door, and went upstairs to Richard Abernether's bedroom, meeting no one.He went the other way, pushing open a screen door and slipping into the pantry. He could hear someone talking in the kitchen at the end of the hall, but no one saw him. Yes, it can be done, but is it true?There is no clue to show that this is the case. Poirot's real intention is not to find evidence... He just wants to confirm various possibilities. The murder of Richard Abernether may be just a hypothesis, and evidence is really needed The most important is the murder of Cora Lansquenet. His purpose is to study those people who gathered at the funeral that day, and then draw his own conclusions. Campbell talk.

Lan Scamber is courteous, but keeps a considerable distance, not as irritable as Jenny, but he regards this foreigner like an upstart as the fifth chapter of Daniel in the Old Testament of the Bible. The visualization of "full building" seems to be doomed! He put down a piece of leather he had used to polish a King George teapot and straightened his back. "What's the matter, sir?" he said politely. Poirot sat down deliberately on a round stool. "Mrs. Abernether told me that you wish to live in that little house over the north gate when you retire?" "That's right, sir. Of course everything has changed now. After the sale of this place..."

Poirot interrupted him tactfully: "That's still possible. The gardener has a small bungalow to live in. The small house is not needed, so we can try to arrange it." "Oh, thank you for the tip, sir. But I don't dare to think... the people who will live here in the future... most of them will be foreigners, right?" "Yes, foreigners. Most of the people who flee here from other parts of Europe are old and infirm. If they go back to their own country, they can't have a future, because these people, you know, they stay in their own country." All the relatives and friends in the motherland have died. They can’t make a living here like ordinary people, so they set up a foundation, managed by the organization I represent, and go to various villages to find a place for them. I think, The place is perfect and the matter is practically a foregone conclusion."

Lan Scamber sighed. "You can understand, sir, that I am saddened to think that this place is no longer a private home. But I also know the current situation, no one can afford to live in such a large house ... and I don't think the younger generation If you want to live in this kind of place, it is too difficult to find servants nowadays, and even if you can find them, they are very expensive, and the standard is not satisfactory. I quite understand that these beautiful mansions should retire." Lan Scamber continued sighed. "If it had to be an institutional site, I'd be glad it was the kind you mentioned. Our country survived, sir, by the strength of our navy and air force and our brave youth, and by the good fortune of Our country is an island. If Hitler had landed here, we would have left him dead. My eyesight is bad, and I can't shoot well, but I can use a rake, sir, and I made up my mind. Determined to do so if necessary, our country has always welcomed the less fortunate, sir, and that is our pride. We will always remain so."

"Thank you, Lanscombe," said Poirot kindly. "The death of your master must have been a great blow to you." "Yes, sir. I have followed my master since he was very young. I am very fortunate, sir. No one can serve a better master." "I spoke to my friend...er...colleague Dr. Rabbi. We wondered if your master might have had any particular concern...or had an unpleasant conversation with anyone the day before his death. ?You don't remember any visitors coming that day, do you?" "I don't think so, sir. I can't remember." "Didn't anyone visit at that time?"

"The vicar came to tea that day. Others... some nuns came to collect donations... and a young man went to the back door to try to sell Maggiona some brushes and pot-washing utensils. He was very annoying, except for these people It's gone." There was a worried expression on Lanscamber's face, and Poirot didn't press any further. Lanscamber had already told Mr. Entwhistle everything.He was still wary of Hercule Poirot after all. Poirot was quite successful with Maggiona.Maggiona does not have the "die-hard loyalties" of traditional servants.She is a first-class cook and to win her heart you have to cook.Poirot went to the kitchen to find her.Appreciate a few of her dishes with discernment, so that Maggiona immediately understands that this is a connoisseur of words, and she will talk to him with all her heart.It did not take him long to find out what Richard Abernethie had eaten the night before his death.Maggiona didn't suspect his intentions at all, saying, "I made a chocolate soufflé the night Abernethie died. I saved six eggs on purpose, and my friend who delivered the milk got them too. Some cream. Best not to ask how you got it. Mr. Abernethir ate with great relish." The other meals were also described vividly.All unfinished meals in the restaurant are brought back to the kitchen for the people in the kitchen to finish.Maggiona talked a lot, but Poirot couldn't get any valuable information from her.

He went back and put on his overcoat and a scarf, and went out against the cool Northland wind to find Helen Abernether who was cutting some late roses. "Did you find anything new?" she asked. "No. But I hadn't had much hope." "I know. Ever since Mr. Entwhistle told me you were coming, I've been asking around, but really to no avail." She paused, then said hopefully: "Maybe it's just a rumor?" "Murdered by an ax would have been groundless?" "I didn't mean Cora." "But I was thinking of Cora. ​​Why did anyone have to kill her? Mr. Entwhistle told me that, the day she said that shocking thing out of the blue, you yourself felt that something was wrong. .Is that right?" "Oh...yes, but I don't know..." Poirot pressed on! "What's wrong? Unexpected? Surprised? Or...how shall we say...Uneasy? Ominous?" "Oh no, it's not ominous? It's just that somewhere it's not... oh, I don't know, I can't remember and it doesn't matter." "But why can't you remember... because other things pushed it out of your mind... more important things?" "Yes . . . yes . . . I think you're right. It's the reference to the murder, I think, that sweeps everything else away." "Maybe it's someone's reaction to hearing 'murder'?" "Maybe...but I don't remember looking at anyone in particular, and we all stared at Cora." "Maybe you heard something...maybe something fell off...or broke..." Helen frowned and tried her best to think. "No... I don't think so..." "Ah, forget it, I will remember it one day. And it may not be of great importance. Now please tell me, who is the most familiar with Kona among the people here?" Helen thought about it. "Lance Campbell, I think. He remembers her when she was a child, and Jenny came after she married and left." "What about again?" Helen said thoughtfully, "I think . . . it was me. Moody could almost say he didn't know her." "So, taking you as the person who knows her best, why do you think she asked that question?" Helen smiled slightly. "That fits well with Cora's personality!" "I mean, was it just a prank? Did she just say that without thinking? Or was she up to something - trying to make everyone feel uneasy?" Helen thought back. "You can't really know a person, can you? I never knew whether Cora was genuinely innocent...or if she was doing it on purpose. You mean that, don't you?" "Yes, I was thinking: If this Mrs. Kerner said to herself, 'Ask them if Richard was murdered, and see how interesting it would be!' That's what she would do something?" Helen looked puzzled. "Possibly. She does have a child's playful sense of humor. But what's the difference?" "This emphasizes the unwiseness of joking about murder," said Poirot grimly. Helen shuddered. "Poor Cora." Poirot changed the subject. "Mrs. Timothy Abernethy staying overnight after the funeral?" "yes." "Has she ever talked to you about what Cora said?" "Yes, she said that's really bad, and only Cora would do that!" "She didn't take it seriously?" "Oh, no. No, I'm sure she doesn't—" The second "no," thought Poirot, sounded suspicious.But isn't that what happens when you think about something? "And you, do you take it seriously?" Helen Abernether, whose eyes looked deep blue and strangely young beneath her gray hair, said with much thought: "Yes, M. Poirot, I think I take her seriously." "Because you think something is wrong?" "Maybe." He waited... but she didn't go on, he went on: "Mrs. Lansquenet and her natal family have been estranged for several years, have they not?" "Yeah, none of us like her sir, she's angry, so she's estranged." "Then, your uncle suddenly went to see her. Why?" "I don't know...I think maybe he knows, or guesses, that he won't live long and wants to reconcile with her...but I really don't know." "He didn't tell you?" "tell me?" "Yes. You're here, with him, right before he went to see her. Didn't he even mention his intentions to you?" He saw her reserve. "He told me he was going to see his brother Timothy...he did. He never mentioned Cora. ​​Shall we go in? Lunch time." She held the cut flowers and walked beside him.As they entered the side door, Poirot said: "Are you sure, very sure, that when you came here as a guest, Abernethie did not mention any family members who might be related to you?" Helen said a little angrily: "You sound like a policeman." "I'm a cop...was. I'm not qualified...not to question you. But you want to know the truth...I feel that way, don't I?" They enter the living room in shades of green.Helen sighed and said: "Richard is disappointed with the younger generation. The older generation is usually the same. He puts them down in a lot of ways...but there's nothing...not at all, you know...that might give rise to a motive for murder." "Ah," said Poirot.She went to a Chinese pot and began to plant roses.When she thought she was satisfied, she looked around for a place to put it. "Your flower arrangements are enviable, ma'am," said Hercule. "I think that whatever you do, you can do it perfectly." "Thank you. I like flowers. I think this pot will look good on that green malachite table." The malachite table used to have a bouquet of wax flowers covered in glass.As she removed the bouquet Poirot said casually: "Has anyone ever told Mr. Abernether that his niece Susan's Mr. once nearly poisoned a customer with a potion? Ah, I'm so sorry!" He leaps forward. The Victorian ornament slipped from Helen's hands.Poirot was not moving fast enough.The wax bouquet fell to the floor and the glass cover shattered.Helen looked annoyed. "I was too careless. Fortunately, the flowers were not hurt. I can order a glass cover. I will put it in the big cupboard under the stairs first." Poirot helped her put the bouquet of wax flowers into the dark closet.When he got back into the living room, he said: "It was my fault. I shouldn't have scared you." "What did you just ask me? I forgot." "Oh, no need to repeat my question. Really... I forgot myself." Helen walked towards him, putting a hand on his arm. "Mr. Poirot, has anyone's life really stood up to close scrutiny? People's private lives need to be investigated in this way, before they and... and..." "When nothing to do with Cora Lansquenet's death? Yes. Necessary. Because it had to be thoroughly investigated. Ah! Yes...that's an old adage...everyone has something to hide. This It's true for each of us...and maybe it's true for you too, ma'am. But I tell you, there's nothing to ignore. That's why my friend, Mr. Entwhistle, came to me. Because I'm not a cop. I'm cautious and what I know has nothing to do with me. But I have to know. And since the main evidence in this case is people...then I'll start with people. I need, ma'am, to see the funeral Everyone who was here that day. And if I could meet them here...it would be a great convenience...and fit my strategy." "This," Helen said slowly, "I'm afraid it's too difficult..." "It's not as hard as you think. I've figured out a way. The house, it's sold. Mr. Entwhistle can announce it to them. Invite them to gather here, before the furnishings, etc., are auctioned off. Everyone picks what they like. You can pick a weekend that is convenient for everyone.” He paused and said: "Look, isn't it easy?" Helen watched him.Her blue eyes were cold...almost frozen. "Are you setting a trap for someone, M. Poirot?" "Ah! I wish I knew enough. No, I'm still humbly proving." "Perhaps," said Hercule Poirot thoughtfully, "certain tests..." "Test? What kind of test?" "I haven't thought it through yet. Besides, you'd better not know about it anyway." "Then I can also accept your test?" "You, ma'am, have been dropped into the background. Now there's little certainty, I suppose, that the younger ones will come, but there's no guarantee that Mr. Timothy Abernether will come, is there? I've heard he Never left home." Helen suddenly smiled slightly. "I think you're in luck for that, M. Poirot. I heard from Moody yesterday that their house was being painted, and Timothy couldn't stand the smell of it. He said it was badly injurious to his health." ...I think he and Moody would love to be here...Maybe a week or two. Moody isn't quite walking yet...You know she's got a broken ankle?" "I haven't heard of it. It's unfortunate." "It's a good thing they have Cora's squire, Miss Gilchrist, to help. Seems like she's become a treasure for them." "What's the matter?" Poirot suddenly turned to Helen. "They want Miss Gilchrist? Who suggested it?" "I think it was arranged by Susan. Susan Banks." "Aha," said Poirot with interest, "it was little Susan's idea. She likes to make arrangements." "Susan is a very capable girl, I am amazed." "Yes. She is capable. Did you hear that Miss Gilchrist was nearly poisoned by a piece of a poisoned wedding cake?" "No!" Helen looked terrified. "Now that I think of it, Moody said on the phone that Miss Gilchrist had just been released from the hospital, but I didn't see why she was in. Poisoned? But, M. Poirot . . . why?" "Do you really want to know?" Helen suddenly said excitedly: "Oh! Bring them all here! Find out the truth! There must be no more murder." "So you're willing to cooperate?" "Yes... I am willing to cooperate!"