Chapter 3 Section 3

The flight attendant and the doctor had given way to a short man in a scarf.There was confidence and authority in his voice.He whispered something in Mitchell's ear, then stopped at the door leading to the front cabin next to the toilet.The plane came to a complete stop.Mitchell raised his voice and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, please sit in your seats and keep quiet until the relevant personnel come to deal with it. I hope it will not delay you too long." Most of the passengers accepted him happily. instructions, with one exception. "Nonsense!" cried Mrs. Hobrey angrily. "Don't you know who I am? I want to get off the plane immediately."

"I'm very sorry, ma'am. I dare not take the responsibility." "It's really unreasonable," Sicily said angrily, stomping his feet, "I'm going to the company to sue you and lock us up with a corpse." "Yes, my dear," echoed Venetia Kerr with air, "it's hard to take. But I guess I'll have to live with it." She sat down and smoked a cigarette. "Is smoking allowed now, flight attendant? " Mitchell hurriedly said: "I think it's OK now." He looked up, Davis had already sent the front cabin passengers off the plane through the emergency door, and he was now looking for instructions from the relevant personnel.It seemed to everyone that after half an hour, a person in civilian clothes came up from the emergency door, followed by a police officer.

"Okay, let's talk." The visitor asked in an official tone.While listening to the introductions of Mitchell and Dr. Bryant, he kept scanning the corpse lying on the ground.He said something to the police officer, and then to all the passengers, "Ladies and gentlemen, please follow me." He led everyone off the plane, and instead of going to the border checkpoint, he went to a cabin.He said: "Ladies and gentlemen, I will not take too much time for you all." "Well, Mr. Inspector," said James Ryder, "I'm going to London to attend a very important business meeting."

"sorry sir." "I am Mrs Hobrey, and I do not think that my detention will be tolerated." "I'm very sorry, Mrs Hobrey. But it's a serious matter, like a murder." Vinicia Kerr said: "It's really boring. But I think, Inspector, it's your job too." "Thank you, ma'am," said the inspector. "Ladies and gentlemen, please stay a moment. I have something to say to the doctor." "My name is Bryant." "Thank you, please come this way, doctor." "Can I join your conversation?" The speaker was a short man with a beard.The inspector looked back at him, then suddenly changed his mind.

"I'm sorry, M. Poirot. You hid your face with your scarf and I almost didn't recognize you. Well, come on." The others watched them go curiously. Norman Gale said to Jane shyly, "I saw you in Pinet." "I've been to Pinett." "I... recognized you as soon as I got on the plane." Jane was a little surprised: "Really?" Gale said, "You're saying it's a murder?" "I think so. It's both chilling and repulsive." The Duponts continued speaking in French.Mr. Ryder was calculating something in his notebook and looking at his watch now and then.Sicily Hobli shook his feet impatiently and lit a cigarette with shaking hands.A tall, expressionless policeman stood at the door of the room.In the next room Inspector Japp was talking to Bryant and Poirot.

"You can always turn up in the most unlikely places, M. Poirot." "Croydon Airport does not seem to be under your jurisdiction, my friend." Poirot did not budge. "Oh! I'm catching the leader of a smuggling ring. Perhaps it was my luck that I stumbled upon this. Now, let's get down to business. Doctor, first please tell me your full name and address." "Roger James Bryant, Ear and Throat Specialist. Address is 329 Harley Street." A stout policeman at the table took down what he said. "About when did the deceased die?" asked Japp.

"It was at least half an hour before I checked on her, which was a few minutes before the plane landed. But according to the flight attendant, he spoke to her an hour ago." "Well, let's get straight to the point. Do you see anything suspicious?" The doctor shook his head. "I, I was sleeping," said Poirot, weeping. "I was not well in the cabin, and I always had to wrap up and try to sleep." "Could you speak of the cause of death, doctor?" "I can't make a judgment yet. I have to look at the autopsy report." Japp nodded approvingly, "Well, doctor, I don't think it's necessary for you to stay. But, um..., there are still some formalities, which are the same for all other passengers, no exceptions."

Dr. Bryant smiled and said, "I want you to confirm that I don't have a blowpipe or any other murder weapon." "Rodgers will take care of it." Japp nodded to his subordinate. "By the way, doctor, you see this is..." He pointed to the stained steel needle on the table. Dr. Bryant shook his head, "It's hard to say, and further analysis is needed. Curare poison is commonly used by South American Indians, and it can kill people quickly." "But it's hard to get?" "Especially laymen." "Then we'll have to investigate you." Japp seemed to be a joker.The doctor and the policeman left the room together.

Japp leaned forward, looked at Poirot, and said: "It's grotesque and absurd. I mean, the blowpipe and the poisonous needle, it's really incredible." "That is a very profound insight, my friend," said Poirot. "We have a couple of people searching the plane. Fingerprint specialists and photographers will be here shortly. I want the flight attendant to come in." He went to the door and asked the flight attendant to come in.The younger flight attendant seemed to have just recovered, but seemed a little excited.Another flight attendant turned pale and trembling.

"Now, boys," said Japp, "sit down. Passports all collected? . . . Good." He drew a passport quickly. "Oh, that's her, Marie Morisot, with a French passport. Know her?" "I've met her before," Mitchell said, "and she travels a lot between England and France." "For business reasons? Do you know what business she has?" Mitchell shook his head.The young flight attendant said: "I remember one time she took an early flight at 8 o'clock in Paris." "Which of you was the last to see her before she died?"

"He." The young flight attendant pointed to his partner. "Yeah," Mitchell said, "I brought her coffee." "When was that?" "You know, we were over the English Channel, around two o'clock. I started taking the bill a quarter of an hour later, I thought she was asleep, . . . but she was dead." His voice sounded Somewhat scary. "You didn't see this thing then?" Japp pointed to the steel needle. "No, sir." "What about you, Davis?" "I went to hand out cookies and that was the last time I saw her. She was fine then." "How do you usually send meals?" Poirot asked, "Do you send them in separate cabins?" "No, we will send it together. There are soup, meat, vegetables, salad, and then sweets. We will send it to the rear cabin first, and then send it to the front cabin after packing the lunch box." "Who did this Morisot woman talk to on the plane?" Japp asked. "I do not see it." "What about you, Davis?" "I do not have either." "Did she leave her seat during the flight?" "I don't think so." "Do you think there are any other clues to provide?" The two looked at each other and shook their heads. "So be it. We'll meet again." Poirot leaned forward and said: "Permit me to ask a little question." "Speak, M. Poirot." "Did you see a wasp flying in the plane?" The two shook their heads."At least I didn't see it," Mitchell said. "One passenger had a dead wasp on his plate," said Poirot. "Oh, I didn't see that." "Neither did I," Davis said. "it does not matter." The two flight attendants left the room.Japp's eyes fell on the passport. "Let the countess come in," he said, "I think she has a lot of background, talk to her first, otherwise she will go to Parliament to accuse the police of being arbitrary." "I think all luggage, handbags, especially the belongings of the passengers in the back cabin should be searched carefully." Japp blinked happily. "Mr. Poirot, how are we going to find that blowpipe? I think it might be some writer's whim, wishing to experience the whole process of killing for himself. What do you think?" Poirot shook his head suspiciously. "Yes," continued Japp, "it is not against the law that all persons and objects must be inspected." "A very detailed list needs to be drawn up," suggested Poirot. Japp looked at him curiously. "Since you say so, I will do so, Mr. Poirot. But I don't understand your intention. We have our own targets." "Perhaps so, my friend. But I'm looking for something too, though I can't tell what it is yet." Mrs. Hobrey was not as excited as she had imagined, and answered Japp's question without hesitation.She said she was the Countess of Hobury, and lived in Hobury Street, Sussex, near Grosvenor Square, London.She had flown back to London from Pinet via Paris, she did not know the deceased and found nothing suspicious.Also, she was facing the nose of the aircraft, so it was impossible to notice what was going on behind her.But she said there were two gentlemen in the back who had gone to the bathroom.She didn't know what a blowpipe was, and she hadn't seen a wasp flying around. After Mrs. Hobrey went out, it was Mrs. Venetia Kerr who entered.She said she lived in a small paddock in Sussex and had come back to London from South Africa.She hadn't noticed the dead man, and she couldn't recall anything suspicious.But she said passengers in the back seat were catching the wasp and one passenger killed the wasp.This happened after lunch.So Mrs. Kerr also left. "You seem to be interested in that wasp, M. Poirot." "It's better to say that the Hornets are more instructive." "I think," said Japp, changing the subject, "that the two Frenchmen are the most suspicious, sitting across the aisle from the dead man, the way they look, and the handbag, plastered all over it. They must have been to Borneo and South America. Of course, we have to find out the motive of the crime, and we can ask the Paris Police Department to assist in investigating this case." Poirot blinked. "That is quite possible. But, my friend, you are not quite right. Those two Frenchmen are well-known archaeologists." "Go on!" "A discerning person will understand at a glance. They are Armand Dupont and Joan Dupont. Not long ago, they were excavating in the ancient city of Susa in ancient Persia." Japp grabbed a passport. "But, M. Poirot, they don't look like scholars." "It's the same with the famous people in the world. In my case, I was once considered a hairdresser." "Okay," Japp grinned, "then invite a well-known archaeologist." The old Dupont claimed that he did not know the dead man, he did not notice anything going on around him, and he was discussing an interesting topic with his son.He never left his seat.Saw a wasp, son killed it. Little Dupont, sure that he didn't notice anything around him, killed the wasp that was infesting him.Their topic was prehistoric pottery from the Near East.Mr. Clancy was invited in next. "Have you a blowpipe yourself?" "Oh, I, yes, I have." The little Mr. Clancy spoke agitatedly, "Don't misunderstand me, my motives are pure. My explanation is that I once wrote a book, and the murder took just this way." "true?" Mr. Clancy replied hastily: "It's all about fingerprints, and it's necessary to get my point across, trust me. That was two years ago. I bought a blowpipe with a friend of mine on it. to illustrate my point. The book I wrote was called Traces of Red Metal." The logic of what he said seemed a bit confused. "Is that blowpipe still there?" "Oh, yes, yes, I think still, yes, still." "Where is it now?" "I think it's somewhere." "Where exactly is it, Mr. Clancy?" "I mean, a certain place, I can't say for sure. I'm a man who doesn't like to tidy up." "Like, it's not with you now?" "Of course not. I haven't seen that blowpipe for half a year." Inspector Japp gave him a cold, suspicious look. "Have you ever left your seat?" "Oh, no, really, oh, yes, left." "Leaving! Where have you been?" "I took something out of the pocket of my raincoat. My raincoat and suitcase are by the entrance." "So you passed the dead man's seat?" "No, oh, yes, it must have passed. But it was before it happened. I just finished drinking the vegetable soup." Clancy answered no to the other questions, he didn't see anything suspicious, yes, he noticed a wasp, he was afraid of that thing.The flight attendant just brought him coffee.He hit the wasp, but it flew away.After registering his name and address, Clancy left with a relieved expression. "There's something wrong with it," said Japp. "He's got a blowpipe. Look at how nervous he is." "Actually, you seem to have found the answer yourself." "Of course. Well, let Norman Gale come in." Norman Gale lived in Shepherd Street, Marthaway Hill, practiced dentistry, and returned to London from Pinet after holidays on the French coast.He spent a day in Paris to see the new dental appliances there.He never noticed the deceased, nor did he see anything suspicious.He faced the front cabin, and never left his seat during the flight, except for one time - to go to the bathroom, and then go straight back to the seat.He had never been in the back of the back cabin, nor had he seen any wasps. After him, entering the room was James Ryder.He did not know the deceased, and returned to London after a business visit in Paris.He was sitting right in front of the dead man, but he heard no cries or groans.Except for the flight attendants, no one ever came to the back row.Yes, the two Frenchmen were sitting across the aisle, but they were talking all the time.Before the passengers had finished eating, the younger one killed a wasp.He didn't know what a blowpipe was, and had never seen one. Just then, a policeman knocked on the door and entered. "The police officer found this. They said you need it right now." He put the things in his hand on the table, and carefully unwrapped the handkerchief. "There are no fingerprints on it, so the officer told me to be very careful." It was a blowpipe made by primitive craftsmanship. Japp took a deep breath. "Is this the weapon used by the South Americans? I've heard of it, but I've never seen it with my own eyes. Where did you find it?" "An inconspicuous place under seat number nine." "Very interesting," said Poirot. "That happens to be my seat." "Oh, you seem surprised," said Mr. Ryder. Japp frowned. "Thank you, Mr. Ryder, you can go." He grinned back at Poirot. "You did it, old ghost?" "My friend," said Poirot solemnly, "if I were to kill, I would not use the poisonous needle of a South American Indian." "It's really mean," said Japp, "but it works." "The murderer must not be simple." "His timing couldn't have been better. The fellow must be a madman. Well, there's only one girl left. Jane Gray, seems like a historical figure." "She is charming," said Poirot. "Really? So you're not asleep at all, old man." "But she seemed a little uncomfortable." "Uncomfortable?" Japp asked alertly. "Oh, my friend, a girl's uneasiness is more often due to some lad than to murder." "Maybe you're right... oh, here she comes." Jane's answer was simple and clear. She worked in a hairdressing salon in Bruton Street, lived in Harrogate Street, and returned to England from Pinet.Then she talked about the casino. "I see these casinos are illegal," Japp said. "I think it's a good place," said Jane. "Haven't you ever put half a shilling in the field?" Japp looked a little unnatural, and he hastily resumed his questioning.She did not know the deceased, but had seen her at Le Bourget airport "because she was very ugly." The rest of the answers were of little value. "This stumps me," said Japp. "What are we looking for now? Someone who's been to where the blowpipes come from? Where is that? Gotta get an expert to consult." "It should be so in principle," said Poirot. "However, if you look closely, there is a very small piece of paper stuck to the blowpipe, which looks like a price tag that has been torn off. I think this thing fell off somehow. Into the hands of the curio collector. Seems to make our investigation much easier. One small problem." "Say it." "That list has to be as detailed as possible, it's the passenger list." "Oh, not quite a while now, but it'll work out. Why do you keep caring about that?" "I'm baffled, and I hope any clues are not missed." Japp didn't pay attention to what he said, he carefully examined the price tag that had been torn off. "Clancy said he bought a blowpipe. These detective novelists are always playing tricks on the police. If we follow their design, we policemen will be idiots!"