Chapter 5 chapter Five

Inspector Cogender stood on the edge of the cliff, waiting for the medical examiner to examine Elena's body.Patrick Redfern and Emily Brest stood on the other side, and Dr. Neston straightened up deftly, and said: "The strangled—the murderer's hands were quite strong. She didn't seem to No matter how you struggled, you were strangled by accident. Hmm—uh—very cruel.” Emily glanced at it, then turned her eyes away from the dead woman's face, which was purple and horrific.Inspector Cogender asked, "What time did you die?" Ni Sidun said unhappily: "It's impossible to say for sure without a more detailed examination. There are many factors that need to be taken into consideration. Let me see. It's a quarter to one. When did you find the body?"

Patrick Redfonne, who was asked the question, said vaguely: "It's a minute to twelve. I don't know the exact time." Emily Brest said, "It was a quarter to twelve when we found her dead." "Oh, you came by boat. When did you see her lying here?" Emily Brest thought for a moment, "I think we rounded that rocky headland over there, about five or six minutes ago." She turned to Redfonne, "You think so?" He said vaguely, "It's—it's—somewhat, I think." Neeston lowered his voice and asked the inspector, "This is Mr. the deceased? Oh! I see. I made a mistake. I thought that was him. It looks like he is overly sad." He said Raising his voice, he said very formally: "We can say that the time of death was twenty minutes to twelve. It can't be much earlier, about then to eleven o'clock--to a quarter to eleven. Eleven A quarter to one is the earliest limit."

The Inspector slammed his notepad shut: "Thanks," he said, "this should be of great help to us, and the up and down times are fairly short—less than an hour all together." He turned to Miss Brest and said: "Now, I think it's clear so far, you are Miss Emily Brest, and this is Mr Patrick Redfonne, both Staying at the Paradise Hotel. You consider this lady to be a guest at your same hotel—Mr. Marshall's wife?" Emily Brest nodded. "Well, I think," Inspector Cogender said, "let's go back to the hotel." He beckoned for a constable. "Hawks, you stay here and no one is allowed to enter the bay. I will send Philip to come later."

"My God!" said Colonel Winston, "I didn't expect you to be here!" Hercule Poirot responded with his usual manner to the chief constable's greeting, and murmured: "Ah, yes, it has been many years since the case at Saint-Loup." "I haven't forgotten the case, though," said Winston. "It was the most unexpected thing in my life. I can't figure out how you could have lied to me about the funeral. The whole case is so out of the ordinary and wonderful." "Colonel," said Poirot, "it turned out very well, didn't it?"

"Er—well, maybe. But I dare say that if you searched in a normal way, you would still get that result." "Very likely." Poirot agreed tactfully. "You have another murder case now," said the police chief. "Any thoughts on this case?" Poirot said slowly: "No definite idea yet—but it's an interesting case." "Are you going to help us?" "It depends on whether you agree or not." "My dear friend, it is a pleasure to have your help. It is not yet known whether the case is to be referred to Scotland Yard. So it seems likely that the murderer is within this limited range, but on the other hand As far as I can tell, all these people have come here from other places, and to know their details and motives, one must go to London."

"Well," said Poirot, "it is true." "First," said Winston, "we must find out who was the last person to see the lady alive. The maid brought her breakfast at nine o'clock. The lady at the counter downstairs Saw her go out through the lounge at about ten o'clock." "My friend," said Poirot, "I think I am the one you are looking for." "You saw her this morning? When?" "It was around ten past five, and I helped her push the raft into the water at the beach." "And she went off on the raft?"

"yes." "Are you alone?" "yes." "Did you see her go that way?" "She paddled around the headland on the right." "Is that the direction towards Little Demon Bay?" "yes." "The time was—" "I think it was a quarter past ten when she actually left the beach." Winston thought about it. "The timing is perfect. How long do you think it will take her to row the raft to Little Demon Bay?" "Oh, I, I'm not an expert on the subject. I don't know how to get on a boat or a raft. Maybe half an hour?"

"That's about as I reckon," said the Constable. "I guess she won't be in a hurry. Well, if she gets there about a quarter to eleven, it's about the right time again." "When did the coroner think she died?" "Oh, Ni Sidun is not sure. He is a very cautious person. He only said that it will not exceed a quarter to eleven at the earliest." Poirot nodded.He said: "I must mention one more thing. Mrs. Marshall asked me not to tell anyone that I saw her when she left." Winston's eyes widened.He said, "Oh, that's kind of interesting. Isn't it?"

Poirot murmured, "Well, I think so too." Winston twitched his beard. He said: "Well, Poirot, you are a man of the world. What kind of a man is Mrs. Marshall?" A smile played on Poirot's lips."Haven't you heard anything?" he asked. The Chief Constable said coldly: "I know what those women say about her, and they must say that. How much of it is true? Is she having anything to do with that fellow Redfon?" "I would say without a doubt that there is." "He followed her here, eh?" "It can be said like this." "And the husband? Does he know about it? How does he feel?"

Poirot said slowly: "It is not an easy task to know what Mr. Marshall is feeling or thinking. He is a man who does not show emotions." Winston said shrewdly: "But in any case, he is a man of joy and anger." Poirot nodded.He said, "Oh, yes, he still has those feelings." The chief of police was just as skillful in his interrogation of Mrs. Consull. Mrs. Consue, the proprietor and proprietor of the Paradise Hotel, was in her early forties, with ample breasts, fiery red hair, and a somewhat pompous manner of speaking.She said: "How could this happen in my hotel! I've always thought it was the most peaceful place you could ever want! The guests who come here are all the nicest people, there's no such thing as a low-- —I think you know what I mean. It's not like one of the big hotels around Saint-Loup."

"That's all right, Mrs. Consull," said Colonel Winston, "but accidents can happen in even the best managed places." "I believe Inspector Cogender can prove it for me," Mrs. Consu said, and looked at the inspector who was sitting on the side seriously. "As for the various laws and regulations, I pay special attention to that there has never been any violations." "Of course, of course," said Winston. "We don't blame you for anything, Mrs. Consull." "But it's doing a lot to our reputation," said Mrs. Consue, her large breasts rising and falling. "When I thought about the crowds of curious people coming, I... of course, the island is only for hotel guests—but it's the same, those people must come to the shore to point out." She called. There was a chill. Inspector Cogender saw that this was a good opportunity for him to change the subject, and he said, "Regarding what you just said, how can you control the idlers from waiting to come to the island?" "I pay special attention to this point." "Yes, but how do you do it? How do you keep them from coming? Summer bathers are everywhere, like flies." Mrs. Consu shivered again.She said: "It's all the fault of the tour bus. Once I saw eighteen people crowded on the pier in Pisuo Bay. Eighteen people!" "That's right, why don't you keep them from coming over?" "We have notices, and, of course, when the tide is high, the island is disconnected from the land." "That's right, but what about when the tide goes out?" Mrs. Consu explained that there is a door at the end of the causeway near the island, and there is a notice on it saying: "The Paradise Hotel is private property, non-hotel guests are strictly forbidden to enter." As for the rocks standing in the sea on both sides, it is impossible to climb. . "Anyone can get a boat, though. What about going around and landing in that little bay, I thought? You can't prevent that, everyone has a right to land, the tide goes in and out, There is no way to keep people from coming.” But this kind of thing seems to be rare. It is true that you can get a boat at the port of Fur Comb Bay, but it is a long way to paddle from there to the island, and there is a strong current outside the port gate of Fur Comb Bay.There were also notices posted near the ladders in Gull Bay and Leprechaun Bay, and she also said that George or William would often patrol the beach near the mainland. "And who are George and William?" "George is in charge of the beach. He manages people's access and rafts. Qi Lian is the gardener. He is in charge of all the paths, markers, tennis courts and so on." Colonel Winston said impatiently: "Well, that seems clear enough, not that no outsiders can get in, but those who come in must at least take a great risk—that they might be seen. We wait a minute." Talk to George and William." Mrs. Consue said: "I don't like those people who come to hang out--they are very noisy, and often leave orange peels and cigarette boxes on the embankment and under the rocks, but I don't believe there are any murderers among them. ! It's a horrible thing beyond description, that a man like Mrs. Marshall would die, and what's worse--er--strangled..." Mrs. Consue, barely able to utter the last words, spoke very reluctantly. out. Inspector Cogender comforted her and said, "Well, this is really a bad thing." "There are also newspapers, my hotel will report!" Ke Gende smiled and said: "Oh, hey, this is also a kind of advertisement." Mrs. Consue straightened her back, her chest heaved, and she said coldly, "I don't care about this kind of advertisement, Mr. Cogender." Colonel Winston interrupted: "Well, Mrs. Consull, is the passenger list I asked you to prepare ready?" "Okay, Chief." Colonel Winston took the hotel guest book, and he looked at Poirot, who was also with them in the manager's room. "I'm afraid you can help us here now." He looked over all the names, "Where's the staff?" Mrs. Consu took out another list, "There are four maids in total, the head waiter and his three men, Henry in the bar, William the shoe shiner, and a cook with two men. .” "Who are the waiters?" "Oh, the foreman is Ambert, and he's from the Vincent's Hotel in Plymouth. He's been here for several years, and three of his men have been here for three years—and one of them has been here for four years. All good young men, very dependable, and Henry has been at the hotel since it opened, and can do a good job." Winston nodded, and he said to Cogender, "It seems to be all right, of course you have to check with them again. Thank you, Mrs. Consull." "Is there nothing else?" "temporarily unavailable." Mrs. Consue walked out of the room. Winston said, "The first thing to do is to talk to Mr. Marshall." Gan Yishi Marshall sat quietly and answered all the questions that were asked of him. Apart from his hard expression, he was quite calm. Looking from this side, the sunlight coming in from the window shone on his face. It can be seen that He is a very handsome man.He has regular facial features, steady blue eyes, full lips, and his voice is deep and melodious.Colonel Winston said: "Mr. Marshall, I understand that you must be very shocked, but you know that I want to have all the information as soon as possible." Marshall nodded.He said: "I understand very well, please ask." "Mrs. Marshall was your second wife?" "yes." "How long have you been married?" "Just over four years old." "What was her maiden name before marriage?" "Helen Stuart, her stage name is Elena Stuart." "Is she an actress?" "She acted in comic operas and musicals." "Did she quit the stage because she married you?" "No, she continued to perform after her marriage. She actually retired about a year and a half ago." "Is there any particular reason for her withdrawal from the stage?" Gan Yishi Marshall seemed to think about it. "No," he said, "she just said she was bored." "It's not - er - because of compliance with your wishes?" Marshall raised his eyebrows, "Ah, no." "You have no problem with her continuing to act after marriage?" Marshall smiled faintly and said: "Of course I hope she will give up the show, but I didn't ask for anything." "Didn't this matter cause discord between you and your husband?" "Of course not, my wife can do whatever she wants." "Is your marriage—happy?" Gan Yishi Marshall said coldly: "Of course." Colonel Winston paused for a minute, then said: "Mr. Marshall, do you have any idea who might have killed your wife?" He replied without hesitation, "I don't know at all." "Does she have any enemies?" "might have." "How to say?" The other party quickly continued: "Don't get me wrong, Director, my wife is an actress, and she is also a good-looking woman. In both respects, she will cause a considerable degree of envy and jealousy. Sometimes in order to compete for a The characters—the competition between the other women and her—are, we might say, generally a little bit jealous, hateful, malicious, and ruthless toward her. But that’s not to say that anyone would murder her.” Hercule Poirot said for the first time: "You mean to say that her enemies are mostly, or entirely, women?" Kenneth Marshall glanced at him. "Yes," he said, "exactly." The Chief of Police said: "Don't you know that there is a man who has a hatred for her?" "have no idea." "Among the other guests in this hotel, is there anyone she knew before coming here?" "I remember she met Mr. Redfern before—at a party of some sort, but I don't know of the others." Winston paused again, as if debating whether he should press the question further, and finally decided to change the subject.He said, "Let's talk about this morning now, when was the last time you saw your wife?" Marshall paused for a minute, then said: "I took a look in her room when I went down to breakfast—" "Excuse me, do you each have your own room?" "yes." "What time was it then?" "It should be around nine o'clock." "What was she doing?" "She's opening the letter." "Did she say anything?" "Nothing, just good morning--it's a fine day--something like that." "What's her attitude? Is there anything out of the ordinary?" "No, it's completely normal." "She doesn't look excited, depressed or upset or anything?" "I didn't notice at all." Hercule Poirot said: "Did she talk about the contents of her letters?" Another faint smile appeared on the corner of Marshall's mouth."As far as I can remember, she said those were bills," he said. "Did your wife have breakfast in bed?" "yes." "Has she always had this habit?" "Without exception." Hercule Poirot said: "What time does she usually come downstairs?" "Oh, between ten and eleven o'clock--usually near eleven." Poirot went on to ask: "If she came downstairs at ten o'clock, it would be quite unexpected, wouldn't it?" "Yes, she seldom comes down so early." "But she was like this this morning. What do you think is the matter, Mr. Marshall?" Marshall said unemotionally: "I don't know at all. I'm afraid it's the weather—it's a very fine day." "Did you find her again later?" Gan Yishi Marshall shifted his body on the chair, he said: "After breakfast, I went to see her again, and there was no one in the room, and I felt a little strange." "And then you went down on the beach and asked me if I saw her?" "Uh—yes." Then he said with a little emphasis: "You said you didn't..." Hercule Poirot never blinked from his innocent expression, and tenderly stroked his large, puffy beard. Winston said: "Is there any particular reason why you must find your wife this morning?" Marshall turned his eyes to the director's face, and said, "No, I just wonder where she went." Winston stopped again, moved his chair a little, and said in a different tone: "Mr. Marshall, you just mentioned that your wife knew Mr. Patrick Redfonne before, and your wife and Redfonne How familiar is Mr.?" Kenneth Marshall said, "May I smoke?" He fumbled in his pocket. "Damn it! I don't know where I put my pipe again." Poirot handed him a cigarette, and he took it, lit it, and said, "You asked about Redfonne, and my wife told me that she knew him at a cocktail party." "So, it's just an acquaintance?" "I think so." "After that—" the director paused, "As far as I know, their communication has become much closer than before." Marshall asked sharply: "As far as you know, that's the case? Who told you?" "That's what everyone in the hotel says." Marshall looked at Hercule Poirot with cold anger in his eyes."Most of the gossip that goes around in hotels is false," he said. "Perhaps so, but I think Mr. Redfern and Mrs. Hon. have something to gossip about." "whats the matter?" "They've been together." "But that's all?" "You don't deny that there is such a thing?" "Maybe, I really didn't pay attention." "You don't—excuse me, Mr. Marshall—you don't object to your wife's association with Mr. Redfern?" "I never criticize my wife's affairs." "You neither protested nor objected?" "of course not." "Even after the matter had become the subject of scandal, and created a rift between Mr. Redfond and his wife, nothing had been said?" Gan Yishi Marshall said coldly: "I only mind my own business, and I hope others mind their own business. I never listen to gossip and rumors." "You don't deny that Mr. Redfern admires Mrs. Honour?" "He probably admires her, as most men do. She's a beautiful woman." "But you yourself feel that there is nothing ambiguous about their relationship?" "I told you, I never expected that to happen." "Suppose we have witnesses who can prove that they have a very intimate relationship?" The blue eyes turned again to Hercule Poirot, and there was an expression of disgust on the face which usually showed little emotion. Marshall said: "If you want to hear gossip, go and listen. My wife is dead, and she can't defend herself anymore." "You mean to say that you yourself don't believe the gossip?" Beads of sweat formed on Marshall's forehead for the first time, and he said, "I don't take the initiative to believe that kind of thing." He continued, "Aren't you getting too far from the point? It has nothing to do with the obvious facts of the case." Hercule Poirot said before either of them had a chance to speak: "You don't understand, Mr. Marshall, that there is no such thing as a clear fact of a murder. Nine times out of ten, the murder is due to the character of the deceased. and circumstances. Murdered because that is who the victim was! Until we fully understand what Elena Marshall was like, we will not be able to see the murderer clearly and definitely What kind of person would it be. That’s why it’s necessary to ask these questions.” Marshall turned to the chief of police and asked, "Is that your opinion too?" Winston hesitated, then said: "Well, in a way, I agree—that is to say..." Marshall gave a short laugh, and said: "I don't think you'll agree. I believe this talk of character is M. Poirot's specialty." Poirot said with a smile: "You can at least congratulate yourself for not being of any help to me." "What do you mean by that?" "What did you tell us about your lady? You didn't say anything at all. Everyone can see for themselves what you said. She was beautiful and admired, and nothing else." Kenneth Marshall shrugged his shoulders. He said simply: "You are crazy." He looked at the chief of police and asked emphatically, "Is there anything else you want to ask me?" "And, Mr. Marshall, please tell me all about your own actions this morning." Gan Yishi Marshall nodded, obviously he had expected this question a long time ago.He said: "I went downstairs about nine o'clock as usual to have breakfast and read the newspaper. I told you just now, and then I went upstairs to my wife's room and found she had gone out. I went downstairs , went out on the beach, saw M. Poirot, asked him if he had seen her, and then I swam a little, and went back to the hotel, and it was, I think, about twenty to eleven About—yes, about that time, I looked at the clock in the hall, and it was just after ten forty. I went to my room, but the maids hadn't quite cleaned it, and I had some letters to type. , trying to catch the mail, I went downstairs again, had a chat with Henry in the bar, returned to my room at ten minutes to eleven, and typed letters there until twelve. Ten points. Then change into tennis clothes, because I have an appointment to play tennis at twelve o'clock, and we booked the court the day before." "Who are you calling us?" "Mrs. Redfern, Miss Daley, Mr. Gardner and I. I went down to the tennis court at twelve o'clock. Miss Daley and Mr. Gardner were already there. Mrs. Redfern was a few minutes late. We played tennis for an hour, and when we got back to the hotel after the game, I -- I -- heard the news." "Thank you, Mr. Marshall, just to ask, as a rule, is there anyone who can attest that you were typing in your room from—er—between ten minutes to eleven and ten minutes to twelve?" Gan Yishi Marshall smiled lightly and said, "Do you think I killed my own wife? Let me think about it. When the maid tidies up in a nearby room, she must have heard the sound of the typewriter and the text I typed. The letter can be used as proof, because of these messy things, my few letters have not been sent, I think this is good evidence." He took three letters from his pocket, all addressed but not yet stamped.He said: "The content of the letter is confidential, but since it is a murder case, I have to trust the police not to leak it. There are a lot of figures and various financial information. I think if you send a If people still type a copy, they will find that it is impossible to finish typing in less than an hour." He paused slightly, "I hope you are satisfied, right?" Winston said: "It is not a question of who is suspected or not. Everyone on the island is to account for their actions this morning between quarter to eleven and twenty to twelve." Gan Yishi Marshall said: "Good." Winston said: "One more thing, Mr. Marshall, do you know what your wife will do with her estate?" "You mean her will? I don't think she made a will at all." "But you're not sure?" "Her lawyers are three law firms in Bedford Square and they take care of all her contracts and all that. I'm pretty sure she never made a will though, and she said one time that doing something like that would make her feel shudder." "In this case, since she didn't make a will, after death, you are her husband, so you can inherit all her property?" "Well, I suppose so." "Does she have any other close relatives?" "I don't think so. If there was, she never mentioned it. I know her parents died when she was very young, and she has no siblings." "So, I suppose, she doesn't have much left?" Gan Yishi Marshall said coldly: "On the contrary, two years ago, Sir Roger Ainschin, an old friend of hers, bequeathed to her most of his property, I think, the total is about fifty thousand pound." Inspector Cogender raised his head with a look of vigilance in his eyes.Hitherto he had remained silent, and now he asked: "So, Mr. Marshall, your wife is actually a very rich woman?" Kenneth Marshall shrugged his shoulders and said, "I suppose so." "Are you still saying she didn't make a will?" "You can ask her lawyer, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't, and as I said, she thinks that would be bad luck." He paused, then said, "Is there anything else?" Winston shook his head. "I don't think there's any—er, Coggand? No, Mr. Marshall. Let us once again send you our condolences." Marshall blinked and said abruptly, "Ah—thanks." He walked out. The remaining three people looked at each other, and Winston said, "This man is really calm, he won't say anything. What do you think of him, Kegund?" The inspector shook his head and said, "It's hard to say. He's the kind of person who hides his secrets. This kind of person gives the worst impression when he testifies in court, but it's really unfair to them. Sometimes they think It's painful, but you can't show it. This attitude will make the jury make a wrong verdict. It's not a question of evidence, but ordinary people don't believe that a person can talk about this issue so calmly after his wife's death." Winston turned his head and asked Poirot, "What do you think? Poirot." Hercule Poirot threw up his hands.He said: "What else is there to say? He's tight-lipped - like a closed clam. He decides what role to play, hears nothing, sees nothing, knows nothing." "We know there are several motives," Cogender said. "There's jealousy, there's money. Of course, in some ways, the husband is the most suspect, and it's natural that he's the first one to think of." , if he knew what his wife had with other men—" Poirot interrupted: "I think he knows." "Why do you say that?" "Well, my friend, I had a talk with Mrs Redfern on Sunny Bluff last night, and then I came down from there to the hotel, and on my way back I saw those two together - Mrs. Marshall and Pat C. Redfon. After a while I bumped into Marshall again, his face tensed, expressionless--but so expressionless, almost too blank, I don't know if you understand me Meaning, ah! He must know." Coggand snorted suspiciously, and said, "Ah, well, if you think so—" "I'm sure! But even so, what does it mean? How does Kenneth Marshall feel about his wife?" Colonel Winston said: "She can be killed calmly." Poirot shook his head disapprovingly.Inspector Cogender said: "Sometimes these silent people are the cruelest fellows at heart, deep down, and he's probably madly in love with her - and very jealous, but he's not the type to take her People who show those feelings." Poirot said slowly: "Yes—it is possible. This Mr. Marshall is a very interesting man, and I am very interested in him, and in his alibi." "A typewriter alibi." Winston let out a short laugh. "What's your opinion on that, Cogand?" Inspector Cogender rolled his eyes up, and he said, "Well, you know, Chief, I'm kind of convinced by his alibi, it's not a very good alibi, you know what I mean, but— —Well, but naturally, if we can find the maid who is cleaning the rooms nearby, and she does hear the typing, then I think we'll be all right, and we'll have to look elsewhere." "Well," said Colonel Winston, "where are you planning to go?" The three thought about it for a while, and Inspector Kogend spoke first.He said: "First we need to decide on a basic question - is the murderer an outsider? Or a hotel guest? I haven't completely ruled out the possibility that the hotel staff may be involved, but I don't believe that one of them will be involved. Inside. Well, I think a guest in a hotel, or someone from outside. We'll have to look at it that way, the first is—motivation. Someone could profit from it, it seems that because the lady died It was her husband who profited. What other motives were there? First and foremost—jealousy. It seemed to me—on the face of it—that there were 'suspects' (who After saying these two words in French, and bowing slightly to Poirot), it is the old man." Looking at the ceiling, Poirot murmured: "There are many kinds of enthusiasm." Inspector Cogender went on: "Her husband won't admit that she has any enemies--real enemies, but I don't believe that at all! I think a woman like her must--well, there must be many Her enemy--well, Mr. Poirot, what did you say?" Poirot replied: "Oh, yes, it is so. Elena should have enemies, but in my opinion this theory does not seem to be of much use, because you know, Inspector, I think Elena Na Marshall's enemies will be, as I said, all women." Winston snorted and said, "That makes sense. It's not bad that those women fucked her." Poirot continued: "But the murderer in this case cannot be a woman. What did the forensic doctor say?" Winston snorted again.He said: "Neithon asserted that a man strangled her, with big hands—a strong grip. Of course, it could have been done by a strong woman—but it really doesn't look like it." Poirot nodded. "Exactly. To put arsenic in a cup of tea—to poison a box of chocolates—with a knife or even with a pistol—but to strangle—impossible! The murderer we are looking for." It's a man." He went on: "That makes things more difficult. There are two people in this hotel who have a motive for killing Eleanor Marshall—but both are women." Colonel Winston asked: "I suppose Mrs. Redfern is one?" "Yes, Mrs. Redfern may very well have made up her mind to kill Arlena Starter. We may say she had good reasons. I think Mrs. Redfern might have actually done it. But not in this way." , because although she is very unhappy and very jealous, I think she is not an emotional woman. In love, she will be very sincere—but not very impulsive. As I said just now—at tea It would be impossible if she poisoned herself—possibly—and strangled it with her hands. I was also sure that she was physically unable to commit such a crime. Besides, her hands were much smaller than ordinary people. " Winston nodded. He said, "This is not a woman's case. The murderer is a man." Inspector Cogender coughed and said, "Let me talk about another reasoning first. For example, before recognizing Mr. Redfang, the deceased had already had some relationship with another man. Let's call that man named A, she Abandoned X because of Redfang, X was very angry and jealous because of this, he followed her here, hid somewhere nearby, and then went to the island to kill her. This is also possible!" Winston said: "That might be a good thing, and if so, it's easy to prove. Did he walk? Or did he come by boat? The latter is more likely. You'd better look around." He looked at Poirot. "What do you think of Cogender's statement?" 白罗缓缓地道：“这种说法有太多要碰运气的地方，再说——有点地方也不大对，你知道，我很难想象出那个男人……你说的那种既愤怒又嫉妒的男人。” 柯根德说：“不过，的确有人为她神魂颠倒哩，你看看雷德方。” “不错，不错……可是我总还是觉得——”柯根德疑问地望着他，白罗摇了摇头，皱起眉头说道：“在什么地方，有什么事情我们没有注意到……”