Chapter 7 Chapter Six Let's Go to the Little Green House

I don't know how Poirot felt in his overcoat and handkerchief, but before we drove out of London I felt on fire myself.In such a hot summer, driving a convertible does not feel cool at all. However, when we drove out of London and hit the roads at higher speeds, my interest came. We drove for an hour and a half, and arrived at the town of Markt Basing just before twelve o'clock.The town used to be on a main road, but a new modern road was built later, making the town three kilometers away from the main traffic line in the north, so that the small town has maintained its ancient dignity and tranquility.One of the town's broad avenues and imposing squares seemed to say: "This was an important place; to any reasonable and educated day, I am still the same. Let this appear to fly The world of development moves swiftly along its new way! My town has remained intact and beautiful since the day it was built."

There is a large parking lot at the center of the square, but only a few cars park there.I parked the Austin and Poirot took off his cumbersome coat.After finishing his symmetrical and shiny mustache by hand, we are ready to move on to the next step. We tried to ask for directions, and only once.The answer was not the usual one when asking for directions: "I'm sorry, but I'm a stranger here too." It seemed likely that there were no strangers in Markt Basing but us!That's how it looks on the surface!I had already sensed that Poirot and I, especially Poirot, were here to be noticed.In a beautiful and traditional small town in England, the two of us stood out.

"Little Green House?" A muscular man with bull's-eyes looked us thoughtfully from head to toe, and then said, "Go straight up to Upper Street and you'll find it. It's on the left, but there's no name on the door, it's the first big house after the bank." He added, "You'll find it." He kept his eyes on us as we set off in the direction and place he indicated. "Why," I murmured, "I think we stand out here, and you—Poirot, in particular—are quite a foreigner." "You think people notice that I'm a foreigner—do you?"

"Too obvious!" I told him firmly. "My clothes are made by English tailors," said Poirot thoughtfully. "Clothes don't lead everything," I said. "It is an undeniable fact that you, Poirot, have a personality so striking that I have often wondered that it has not affected your career." Poirot sighed and said: "That's because you've got the wrong idea stuck in your head that the detective must be a man with a fake beard, behind a pillar! Fake beards, that's an old trick; concealment, stalking That is the lowest part of my profession. All I, Hercule Poirot, need, my friend, is to sit in a chair and think."

"That explains why we're walking down an unusually hot street on this unusually hot morning." "Hastings, you answered clearly and neatly. This time I admit that you have left me speechless." We found the little green house easily, but what surprised me was to see a real estate broker's sign outside. As we stared at the sign, we were startled by the barking of a dog. The bush was sparse where the dog was, so we could easily see him.This is a foxhound with a hairy body, her four paws are tightly gripping the ground, and her center of gravity is slightly tilted to one side.It barks with a contented expression and a smug demeanor, showing that it barks with friendly motives.

It seems to be saying to people: "I'm a good guard dog, aren't I? Don't mind my barking! This is my favorite sport! Of course, barking is also my job. I just let people know, here Got a dog like me! What a boring morning, I'm fine with something to do! Come in the pen? I want you to come in. It's fucking boring. I can talk to you." "Hey, buddy!" I said, sticking out my fist. The dog put its neck out of the wooden fence, sniffed it alertly, then wagged its tail lightly and barked intermittently, as if to say: "Nobody introduced you to me, of course I have to! But, I think you guys know what to do next."

"Good man," I said. "Woof..." the dog barked gently. "Oh, Poirot, what's the matter?" I stopped talking to the dog, and turned to my friend. The expression on my friend's face was peculiar--an expression that was impossible to fathom.To use the best word to describe it, it seems to be a deliberately suppressed excitement. "The dog ball incident," he muttered, "well, at least we've got a dog here." "Wow woof..." my new friend called again, and then he sat down, humming weakly, and looked at us hopefully. "What's next?" I asked.

Dogs seem to be having this same problem. "Of course, to those two gentlemen—what's their name—Mr. Gabler and Mr. Strachey." "It does," I agreed. We turned around and walked back along the original road, and the dog we met barked a few times in disappointment behind us. Mr. Gabler and Mr. Strachey's house is in Markt Square.We went into a dimly lit outer office, where we were received by a young woman with blank eyes. "Good morning," said Poirot politely. The young woman, who was answering the telephone at the moment, pointed to a chair, and Poirot sat down.I see another chair and move it forward.

"I don't know, I can't say for sure," the woman said deadpan into the phone. "No, I don't know what the interest rate is... What, please repeat? Oh, running water, I think there is, But I'm not entirely sure... I'm sorry... You asked for him, he went out... I can't say what he came back... Yes, of course I want him to give it to you... Yes, you tell me... The phone is 8135? Sorry, I didn't catch you. Oh, it's... 8935... What? It's 39... Oh, it's 5135... Okay, I'll ask him to call you... After six... Oh, please Excuse me, it was before six o'clock... Thank you very much."

She put down the receiver, scribbled the telephone number 5319 on an absorbent pad, then turned and fixed her eyes on Poirot with the expression of wanting to ask him kindly what he was doing but showing no interest in him. Poirot said lightly: "I heard that there is a house for sale next to the small town, the name is Little Green Fangzi." "What, say it again." "There is a house to let or to sell," said Poirot slowly, "the little green house." "Oh, the little green house," the young woman repeated vaguely, "you mean the little green house?"

"Not bad." "Little Green House," thought the young woman, and then said, "Oh, well! I think Mr. Gabler will know about it." "Can I see Mr. Gabler?" "He's out," said the young woman, in a somewhat contented tone, as if hinting at us: "I can still answer that." "Do you know when he'll be back?" "I can't really tell," said the young woman. "You know, I'm looking for a house in the neighbourhood," said Poirot. "Oh, yes," said the young woman, still indifferent. "The little green house looks like what I'm looking for. Can you tell me more about the house?" "Details?" The young woman seemed startled. "Yes, the details of Little Green House." She reluctantly opened a drawer and took out a stack of messy papers. Then she called out, "John." A thin young man sitting in the corner looked up and said: "Yes, miss." "Do we have details about... what place you're talking about?" "The little green house," said Poirot, literally. "You have a big list of little green houses on your wall." I said, pointing to the list on the wall. She gave me a cold look.She seemed to be thinking, "It's not fair for two of you to play against me in a three-handed game." Then she called to her reinforcements: "John, don't you know anything about the Little Green House?" "I don't know, miss, the relevant documents are in the file." "Unfortunately," said the young woman, though there was no expression of regret on her face, "I think we must have sent out the papers concerning the details of Little Green House." "C'est damage." said Poirot. "What do you mean?" asked the young woman. "Sorry!" replied Poirot. "Hermil Side has a beautiful bungalow with a corridor, two bedrooms and a living room." She said it coldly, but she showed an attitude of being willing to complete the task assigned to her by the boss. "Thank you, I don't want that house." "There is also a conservatory attached to the side of the house. I can tell you the details of that house." "Thank you, no need. I want to know how much you rent out the little green house?" "The house is not rented out, but the whole house has to be sold." The young woman replied.This time she gave up her stance that she didn't know anything about Little Green House, and she was complacent about being able to answer this point. "But your sign says: 'For Rent or For Sale.'" "I can't tell. But the house is only for sale." At this stage of the verbal war, the door opened, and a gray-haired middle-aged man hurried in early.There was a combative look in his eyes, and he looked us both over with gleaming eyes.Then, with a wink, he asked the young woman he had hired a question. "This is Mr. Gabler," said the young woman. Gabler opened a private inner room proudly and said: "Come in, please, sir." He beckoned us in, gesturing for us to sit in chairs, and sat himself facing us across from a fold-out desk. "Now, what can I do for you?" Poirot began to talk again with every thread. "I want to know some details about the little green house..." He could say no more, and Mr. Gabler took up the conversation: "Ah! The little green house--what a property. Totally worth buying. Just coming on the market. I can tell you, gentlemen! We rarely sell houses of this class at this price. People's tastes are changing." .People hate jerry building and want good quality, good looks, no falsification. It's a beautiful house - architecturally - totally Georgian. That's what people want nowadays - people Feels like an older house is stronger, if you know what I mean. Ah yeah, it won't take long for the little green house to sell. People will be clamoring for this house, snapping it up fast! A member of Congress saw the house last Saturday. He liked it very much. He will come again this weekend. There is also a stock dealer who wants to buy it. Nowadays, people come to the countryside to find a quiet environment, away from the main The road is farther away. For some people, this house is too suitable. This house also attracts a lot of people with status, which is what this house is worth. Status! You have to admit that people used to know how to be a gentleman. Gentlemen build houses. Yes, the little green house won't be long in our register." I noticed that Mr. Gabler was doing well, and he stopped to catch his breath. "How many times has this house changed hands in recent years?" "On the contrary, there has been one family for over fifty years. The Arundels are well respected in the town, old-fashioned ladies." He stood up, opened the door and called: "Miss Jenkins, hurry up and get the details of the Little Green House!" He went back to the table. "I need a house at about this distance from London," said Poirot, "in the country, but not in the middle of nowhere, if you understand me..." "Totally understand--totally understand. Not in a country that is too remote. The servants don't like it in the first place. Here you have all the advantages of the country without all the disadvantages." Miss Jenkins came in quickly. , took a piece of printed paper and put it in front of the master, who nodded to signal her to leave. "Here are the instructions," said Mr. Gabler, going over the instructions with trained quick movements. "The characteristics of this ancient house are: four reception rooms, eight bedrooms and a powder room, as well as an office, a spacious kitchen, a garage, stables, etc., running water, an ancient garden, and no need for too much maintenance. The whole area is three acres. There are two gazebos, etc., and the price is about 2,500 pounds." "Can you give me a written notice of permission to visit?" "No problem, my dear sir." Mr. Gabler began to write, waving his pen. "What is your name and address?" To my slight surprise, Poirot told him that his name was Parrotti. "We have two more houses on the register that may interest you," continued Mr. Gabler. Poirot asked him to add these two additions to the notice. "Is the little green house available any time?" asked Poirot. "Of course, my dear sir. There are still servants there. Maybe I'll call first to make sure. Will you go right away or after lunch?" "I'm afraid it would be better to go after lunch." "Of course, of course. I'll ring them up and tell them to wait for you around two o'clock—oh, will you?" "Thank you. Did you say that the owner was—Miss Arundell?" "Lawson, Miss Lawson. That is the name of the present owner. I regret to inform you that Miss Arundell died not long ago. That is why the house is being put on the market. I assure you that the house It will soon be snapped up by people. There is no doubt about it. Between you and me, we are a secret transaction. If you want to make a price, I will quickly set a price and sell it to you. You know, There's two gentlemen up for sale already, and I don't wonder if either of them will make an offer in a day or two. They know each other's going to buy the house. Competing for sure will get one hooked, ha! I I don't want to disappoint you then." "I think Miss Lawson is anxious to sell the house." Mr. Gabler lowered his voice and said secretly: "Exactly. It's a bigger house than she'd like to live in—for a middle-aged woman like her. She wants to sell it and buy a house in London. It's all right now. That's why the house sold. so cheap." "Can she negotiate the price?" "That's it, sir, make an offer and the business will start. But you can get a fair price easily through me. Ah, what absurdity! You know it costs six thousand pounds to build such a house today, and not a penny." Not to mention the land price and the precious land in front of the house." "Miss Arundell's death was sudden, was it not?" "Oh, I don't say that. Old man! She just turned seventy not long ago. Been sick for a long time. She was the last of the family—maybe you know something about them?" "I know some people with that name who are related here. I suppose they must be family." "Quite possible! They had four sisters. One was married very late, and the other three were never married and lived here. They were all old-fashioned girls. Emily was the last of them to die. She was very popular in the town. respected." He leaned forward and handed Poirot the certificate. "Hey, can you come back and tell me how you think about it, eh? Of course, some parts of the house need to be modernized a bit, that's to be expected. But I always say to people: 'You don't have to Add a bathroom or two? That's easy.'" We took our leave, and the last thing we heard was Miss Jenkins' deadpan voice: "Mrs. Samuel is calling. She wants you to call her, sir. The number is: Holland 5391." As far as I can remember, it wasn't a phone number that Miss Jenkins scribbled down in a book, nor was it told to her on the phone. I am convinced that this was Miss Jenkins' revenge on Mr. Gabler for forcing her to find out the details of the Little Green House.