Chapter 25 Section 25

The sudden new situation stunned the three of them, and it provided a new opportunity for the detection of the case.Poirot was at the scene of the Anne Morisot murder, his face contorted with painful thought. "I've got to think about it. I had a stomachache and couldn't see what was going on in detail. I just remember she was a slightly dark girl and Mrs Hobrey called her Miss. She told her to get some vanity case at the back of the plane." "You mean," Fournier said, "she passed her mother's seat?" "right." "Combined with the possibility of motive—she should be included as a suspect."

"Perhaps," said Jane, "it is somewhat inappropriate to base the time calculation on the fact that the plane took place shortly after leaving Le Bourget, and that Giselle was murdered at a later date." "So the poison has some sort of lingering effect?" Poirot snorted, and covered his face with his hands, "I have to think about it... Could it be that my previous inferences were all wrong?" "Anyone can make mistakes, so you need to hide your pride and reset your thinking." "True," said Poirot. "Perhaps I have relied too much on one of these points, on which my whole reasoning has been based. But if I am wrong from the outset, this should only be regarded as a The result of one incident after another."

"Right now, the motivation and the opportunity are all in one person," Fournier said. "What more could you want?" "No. As you said, the lingering effect of the poison actually doesn't exist at all." "We have to come up with a plan of action now," Fournier said. "First of all, don't alarm Anne Morisot. She doesn't know that you recognize her. We already know her address and continue to keep in touch with Alexandria. We To prove that Anne Morisot obtained snake venom, and the American who bought the blowpipe and bribed Perrault, maybe he is Anne's husband Richards."

"Her husband, you say? Oh! Wait a minute." Poirot pressed his hands to his temples. "I'm coming to a conclusion. Morisot is either guilty or innocent. If she is innocent, why is she lying? Why don't you say you're Lady Hobrey's servant?" "So what?" Fournier said. "If my first assumption is correct, Anne Morisot should not have been on the plane." Fournier thought: British detective Japp was right, the old guy just wanted to complicate matters, he would rather stick to his preconceived ideas than accept a straightforward answer. Jane thought: I don't understand what he means.How could she not be on the plane?She was to go where Lady Hobrey told her to go.

Suddenly, taking a deep breath, Poirot said: "It is possible, and very easy to prove. I will make a telephone call to see if Mrs. Hobrey is at home." "Be careful, don't disturb Anne Morisot." "Don't worry, I'll be careful. I'm just asking a trivial question. Will you come with me?" The call was made, and Poirot was lucky that Hobury was at home. "I'm Hercule Poirot. . . . Mrs. Hobrey? . . . No, no, all right. . . . Not for that. I have a little problem. . . . You're flying from Paris." When you go to England, do you usually take a servant with you? By train? ... Are there any exceptions? ... She left you, ... suddenly ... oh, oh ... yes, yes, ... don't worry. okay, thank you."

He put down the microphone and smiled at Fournier, "Her servants usually take a boat or a train. On the day Mrs. Giselle was killed, she decided to let her servants take a plane." He grabbed Fournier's arm, "Let's hurry There's no time to go to her restaurant." Before Fournier could speak, Poirot had dragged him to the revolving door.The doorman called a taxi for them.Poirot and Fournier got into the car.All the way Poirot suspected that the driver was driving slowly. "Why are you so flustered?" "Because, my friend, if I'm right, Anne Morisot is in danger right now. Humph! The car is literally crawling." However, the taxi was flying like lightning at 40 miles an hour. The speed is galloping.

"This car is going to happen sooner or later," Fournier said. "And Miss Gray, she's still waiting for us to get back from the phone call. It's not polite for us to leave without saying goodbye." "It doesn't matter whether you have manners or not. It's a matter of life and death for Anne Morisot." The taxi screeched to a stop in front of the hotel where Anne Morisot was going.Poirot dashed in and almost bumped into a young man walking out of the restaurant.Poirot looked at him and stopped. "I remember this face, yes, it is the actor Raymond Barraclough."

Fournier walked up to him, "Mr. Poirot, I admire your way of thinking, but I urge you not to act rashly." "Of course I won't do it rashly. If Mrs. Richards is fine here, that's fine, we can discuss the next step together, don't you object?" "No, of course not." When they came to the reception, Poirot said: "Mrs. Richards will live here." "Yes, but today she left." "Where did you go?" Fournier showed his ID. "I don't know, she didn't leave her address." They brought in doormen, bellmen and elevatormen.The doorman said a gentleman had come to see her, but she had gone out, and he waited until she came back, and then they went to the dining room for lunch.He had the appearance of an American, and she was surprised by his visit.After dinner, she packed her luggage, called a taxi and left.

They found the taxi driver who was on duty at the time.He said that she went to the North Railway Station, and the American was not with her. "Gare du Nord, which means she's going to England. It's a 2 o'clock intermodal train. Maybe it's trying to hide, but we have to contact Boulogne immediately." The clock pointed to 5 o'clock, and Jane was still waiting in the coffee shop with a book in hand.Poirot approached, his face grave and indignant.Jane didn't dare to speak for a while. "What's the matter?" she asked finally. "How cruel life is," said Poirot slowly, "when the intermodal train arrived at Boulogne, they found a woman dead in the first class, Anne Morisot! She was holding a blue A vial containing hydrocyanic acid."

"Oh, dear!" said Jane, "suicide?" "Yes, the police determined so." "What do you think?" "What else can I think?" Poirot shook his head. "Life is cruel, madam. It takes courage to live."