Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Five is five, six is six, more grass branches and no leaks
Twenty-four hours later Japp called Poirot.There was a bit of bitterness in his tone.
"It's over! It's over!"
"What do you want to say, my friend?"
"Molly really committed suicide, we found the motive."
"What is it?"
"I just got the doctor's report on Amberiozzi's death. I'm not going to give you the jargon. Simply put that he died of an adrenaline and procaine overdose. As far as I understand it , it's acting on his heart and it's causing the collapse. The poor guy was telling the truth yesterday afternoon when he said he wasn't feeling well. Well, here you go! The adrenaline and procaine were injected into the gums by the dentist Mixture—for local anesthesia. Morley made a mistake and overdosed, and when Amberiozzi was gone he found out and couldn't bear the consequences, so he shot himself."
"With a pistol known not to belong to him?" demanded Poirot.
"But it's entirely possible he had a gun. Relatives don't necessarily know everything, sometimes it's surprising how much they don't know!"
"That's true, yes."
Japp said, "Well, you've finally agreed, and that's a perfect, logical explanation of the whole thing."
Poirot said: "You know, my friend, it does not satisfy me. It is true that some patients have adverse reactions to these local anesthetics. The atopy of epinephrine is well known. Its combination with procaine can Very slight toxicity. But doctors who use this drug usually don't think of committing suicide!"
"Yes, but you're talking about a case where the anesthetic was administered appropriately. In that case no one would blame the doctor involved. It was the patient's atopy that caused the death. And in this case it was clear that the drug Definitely an overdose. They haven't come up with an exact figure yet—the quantitative analysis seems to take a long time—but it must be more than normal. That means Molly must have made a mistake."
"Even so," said Poirot, "that is merely an error, not a crime."
"Yes, but it would affect his job. In fact, it would completely ruin him. No one would go to a dentist who could give you a lethal dose of poison just because he accidentally got distracted."
"I must admit, he does fine work."
"It just happens--doctors do--pharmacists. Years of careful and dependable care--just a moment's carelessness--does it happen, and the wretch must be punished. Mo Leigh is an emotionally impressionable man. If it's a physician or physician, there's usually always a pharmacist or dispenser who shares the blame—or is equally guilty. In this case, Morley had to be alone."
Poirot demurred.
"Can't he leave a few words to explain what he has done and that he can't bear the consequences? Can't he leave something like that? Can't he leave a word for his sister?"
"No, as far as I can see. He suddenly realized what was going on--totally bewildered with fright, and took the quickest way to get it over with."
Poirot made no answer.
Japp said, "I know you, old chap. Whenever you come across a dead man's case, you want it to be a murder! I admit I was responsible for leading you down this road this time. I made a mistake, and I frankly admit it."
"I still think there may be another explanation," said Poirot.
"I daresay there could be many other explanations. I've thought about it too--but they're all too absurd. Let's say Amberiozzi killed Molly, came home full of remorse, and used the Stolen narcotics from Molly's operating room committed suicide. If you think it's possible, I don't think it's possible at all. We have a record of Amberiozzi in our bureau. Quite interesting. He was originally in Greece A hotel janitor who got involved in politics. He did espionage work in Germany and France - and made a little money from it. But he didn't make a quick fortune out of it, and it's believed he once had a couple of A previous conviction for blackmail. Our Mr. Amberiozzi is not a very good man. He went to India last year and is believed to have blackmailed a native maharaja. The difficulty is that he has never been able to find Dealing with his evidence. He's slippery like an eel! So there's another possibility. He might be trying to scam Molly about something. And Molly took the opportunity of a lifetime and injected him with an overdose adrenaline and procaine, hoping it would be ruled as an unfortunate accident - due to atopy of adrenaline or something. Later, when the guy was gone, Molly suddenly regretted it and walked away It's possible, of course, but I just can't see Molly as a deliberate murderer. No, I'm absolutely convinced it's what I said at the beginning—a veritable mistake. We'll just have to That puts the matter aside, Poirot. I have spoken to the chief, and he finds it quite clear."
"I see," sighed Poirot, "I see—"
Japp said kindly: "I know how you feel, old chap. But there can't be a good, exciting murder every time! Let's get to that. All I can say sorry for is the old saying, 'Sorry to trouble you!'
He hung up the phone.
Hercule Poirot sat at his handsome and stylish desk.He likes modern furniture.Their broad, solid style was more to his temper than the blunt archaic style.
In front of him was a square piece of white paper with titles and notes neatly written on it.There are question marks in some places.
first of all:
Amber Rioz.espionage.Come to England for this?Been to India last year, during riots and unrest.Possibly a communist agent.
There is a blank space below, and then a title:
Frank Carter?Molly was not happy with him.Recently got fired.Why?
Next is a name with only a question mark drawn on it:
Howard Rex?
This is followed by a sentence in quotation marks:
"But this is ridiculous!"? ? ?
Questions abounded in Hercule Poirot's mind.Outside the window there is a bird making a nest with a twig in its mouth.There sat Hercule Poroku, with his egg-like head on one side, like a bird.
He wrote another clue a little below.
Mr. Barnes?
He paused, then continued:
Molly's office?Marks on the carpet.possibility.
He pondered for a moment on the last clue.
Then he got up, asked for his hat and cane, and went out.
Forty-five minutes later, Hercule Poirot walked out of the Yiling Boulevard subway station, and five minutes later he arrived at his destination - No. 88, Castle Park Road.This is a small house, one side is connected with the neighboring house.The garden in front of the gate caused Hercule Poirot to nod his head in admiration.
"Excellent symmetry," he said to himself.
Mr. Barnes was at home, Poirot was shown into a fine dining room, and Mr. Barnes came out immediately.
Mr. Barnes was a small man with blinking eyes and a nearly bald head.He peered at the visitor over the top rim of his spectacles, twiddling with his left hand the calling card that Poirot had handed to the maid.
His voice was small and serious, as if speaking in a falsetto: "Er, er, M. Poirot? I am very honored."
"I beg you to forgive me for calling so casually," said Poirot politely.
"It couldn't be better this way," said Mr. Barnes, "and the time is fine. It's a quarter to seven—just the time of year to find anyone in the house," he waved his hand." Please sit down, M. Poirot. I believe we can have a good talk. I think it is about 58 Queen Charlotte Street?"
Poirot said: "You guessed it—but how did you come up with the idea?"
"My dear sir," said Mr. Barnes, "I've been retired from the Home Office for some time—but I'm not too dull. If there's any business to cover up, it's best not to have the police. Otherwise. It will scare the snake!"
Poirot said: "I want to ask you one more question. How can you think that this is a business that needs to be concealed?"
"Isn't it?" asked the other, "Well, even if it wasn't, I suppose it should be," leaning forward and tapping the pince-nez on the arm of the chair. "We're in the undercover business, and it's never the little shrimps and the crabs—it's the big ones on top—but to catch them, you have to be careful not to disturb the little shrimps."
"It seems to me, Mr. Barnes, that you know more than I do," said Poirot.
"I actually don't know anything," the other party replied, "It's just a one-plus-one reasoning based on the facts."
"Then which of these two ones is?"
"Amber Riozz," replied Mr. Barnes without hesitation, "you forget that I sat face to face with him for a minute or two in the waiting room. He doesn't know me. I've never been noticed. Sometimes it's not bad. But I know him--and I can guess what he's doing there."
"What are you doing?"
Mr. Barnes's eyes blinked harder.
"Our kind of people are a nuisance in this country. We're conservative, through and through. We're a lot of whiners, but we don't want to overthrow our democratic government to try something new. That's it. Sick to those vile foreign agitators who stay up all night and work overtime! All troubles - in their view - are due to the considerable financial strength of our country. Hardly any other country in Europe today can Do it! To mess up England--really mess it--must mess up its finances--that's the conclusion! And with a man like Alistair Brent at the helm, You can't mess up its finances."
Mr Barnes paused, then went on: "Mr Brent is the kind of man who, in his personal life, does not spend more than he earns - whether he earns twopence a year or millions. Same. That's the kind of guy he is. So he simply thinks there's no reason why a country shouldn't do the same! No expensive experiments, no utopian plans for social improvement. So—" He paused, "—so some people decided that Brent had to go."
"Oh," said Poirot.
Barnes nodded.
"Yes," he said, "I know what I'm talking about. There are some pretty good ones among those people. Long hair, sincere eyes, full of dreams, longing for a better world. Others are not Well, they're sinister, actually. They have beards and foreign accents and they're sneaky like little rats. Plus, there's a bunch of thugs and bullies. But they all have the same idea: Brent Must go!"
He gently tilted the chair back and forth again.
"Destroy the old order! Tories, Tories, die-hards, calculating profiteers, it's all the same. Maybe they're right - I don't know - but I do understand one thing - you have to replace the old order with something - something that works - and not just something that sounds good. Well, we don't need to get into that. We're dealing with concrete facts, Not an abstract theory. Take out the props and the house will fall down. And Brent is a prop that keeps things as they are."
He leaned forward.
"They've been eyeing Brent. I know that. And I think they almost got it yesterday morning. Maybe I'm wrong—but they've tried it before. I mean they've tried it before. "
He paused for a moment, then mentioned three names softly and carefully.One is a Chancellor of the Exchequer of extraordinary ability, one is a progressive and forward-looking manufacturer, and the other is a young and popular politician with a promising future.The first died on the operating table, the second died of an unidentified disease that was discovered too late, and the third was killed by a car.
"It's easy enough," said Mr. Barnes, "that the anesthesiologist got the dose wrong—it happens all the time. In the second case, it was difficult to diagnose. The doctor was just a well-meaning A multidisciplinary practitioner should not be expected to find out the cause. The third case involved a distraught mother driving in a hurry to see her sick child. It was a tearjerker. Story—the jury therefore acquitted her!"
He paused. "It's all very reasonable. And it will be forgotten soon. But I'm going to tell you where these three people are now. The anesthetist built himself a first-class research laboratory-completely No expense was spared. The multidisciplinary doctor went out of business and bought a yacht and a nice little piece of land near the Broads. The mother gave her children a first-rate education, Pony rides for the holidays and a nice house in the country with a big garden and paddock."
He nodded slowly.
"In every career and life path, there are some people who are prone to temptation. The trouble is, in our case, Molly was not one of those people."
"Do you think so?" asked Hercule Poirot.
Mr. Barnes replied, "Yes. You know, it's hard to get a big shot. They're all well guarded. Accidents are too risky and don't always work. But once you're in the dental chair But I lost all resistance."
He took off his glasses, wiped them, and put them back on.He said: "That's my theory! Molly wouldn't do such a thing. But he knows too much, so they have to get rid of him."
"They?" asked Poirot.
"By them I mean the organization behind it all. Of course, there's only one person actually doing it."
"Which person?"
"Well, I could take a guess," said Mr. Barnes, "but it's only a guess, and I might be wrong."
Poirot whispered: "Reilly?"
"Of course! It was him obviously. I don't think they ever asked Molly to do it himself. All he was asked to do was transfer Brent to his partner at the last minute. Just say it was a sudden illness or something. Lai Leigh had come to complete the real action—then perhaps yet another unfortunate accident—a famous banker died—and the sad young dentist was so alarmed and distressed in court that he was Might have been easily let go. He's quit dentist--and moved elsewhere, living off the thousands a year."
Mr. Barnes and Poirot looked at each other.
"Don't think I'm dreaming," he said. "It happens a lot."
"Yes, yes, I know they happen a lot."
Mr. Barnes patted a book with a gaudy cover on the table before him, and continued:
"I read a lot of these espionage stories. Some of them are pretty surreal. But the good thing is they're not at all as surreal as the real thing. There are really beautiful female adventurers, sinister men with dark skin and foreign accents, gangs, international organizations , and Super Heist! If some of the things I know were written up in a book, I'd be ashamed to admit it—no one would believe it!"
Poirot asked: "What part does Amberiotz play in your theory?"
"I don't know. I think he was brought in for someone else. He's played double-faced more than once, and I dare say he was set up this time. Of course, it's just an idea."
Hercule Poirot asked in a low voice: "Assuming you are right—what will happen next?"
Mr. Barnes wiped his nose.
"They'll do something about him," he said. "Oh, yes. They'll do it again. Time's running out. I bet Brent's got protection. They'll have to be careful. Not a guy with a gun in an ambush in the bushes. Not this stupid way. You tell them to keep an eye out for decent-looking people—relatives, old servants, apothecary's assistants, salesmen Liquor to his liquor merchants, etc. It would be worth millions to get rid of Brent, and people would be happy to do it for - let's say, £4,000 a year."
"Can you give that much?"
"Maybe more—"
Poirot was silent for a moment, then said: "I also suspected Riley at first."
"Irish? IRA?"
"Not for that, but there was a mark on the carpet, you know, as if the body had been moved. But if Molly had been beaten to death by a patient, he would have died in the operating room, and there would have been no It was necessary to move the body. So, at first I suspected that he was killed not in the operating room, but in his office - next door. This would suggest that it was not the patient who killed him, but some member of the same house .”
"exactly".Mr Barnes applauded.
Hercule Poirot stood up, stretched out his hand and said, "Thank you, you have helped me a lot."
On the way home, Poirot stopped by the Glenwell Court Hotel.
Because of this visit, he called Japp early the next morning.
"Bonjour, mon ami (French: Good morning, my friend). The jury court is in session today, isn't it?"
"Yes, are you coming?"
"I don't intend to."
"I don't think it's worth your trouble."
"Have you called Miss Sainsbury Seale to testify?"
"That lovely Mabelle—why can't it just be spelled Mabel? This kind of woman makes me mad! No, I didn't call her. There's no need."
"Didn't she tell you anything?"
"No, why did you tell me anything?"
Hercule Poirot said: "I'm just asking, that's all. Maybe you'll be interested to hear that Miss Sainsbury Seale left Glengowell last night just before supper." The Palace Hotel—never came back.”
"What? She ran away?"
"That's one possible explanation."
"But why? She's perfectly innocent, you know. She's not lying, and her history is clear. I've telegraphed to Calcutta to check on her--that was before I knew the cause of Amberiozzi's death, otherwise I wouldn't bother with that - I got an answer last night. It's all right. She's been known there for years and she's telling the truth about herself - just hiding a bit about her marriage Situation. She married an Indian student, who later found out he was already in love. So she changed back to her maiden name and started doing charity work. She worked closely with missionaries—teaching oratory, helping An amateur theatrical act. In fact, I did say she was a horrible woman—but not at all suspecting that she had anything to do with the murders. And now you're saying she dumped us! I don't understand," he said. Pause for a moment, then speculate, "Maybe she's just tired of staying in that hotel? That's what I'm prone to."
Poirot said: "Her luggage is still there. She has nothing on her."
Japp began to see things right.
"When did she leave?"
"About a quarter to seven."
"How are the people at the hotel?"
"They were upset and the female manager looked like she was going crazy."
"Then why didn't they call the police?"
"Because, mon cher (French: my darling), if a lady spends an occasional night out (even though she can't tell from her appearance), she has every reason to be offended at having the police come after her Mrs. Harrison, the manager we were talking about, called a number of hospitals just in case something happened. She was going to call the police when I went. Looks like my presence was the result of her prayers. I put Everything was taken care of and it was stated that I would enlist the assistance of a competent police officer."
"I suppose this conscientious officer is loyal to you?"
"You're right."
Japp sighed.
"Well, I'll see you at the Glengowell Court Hotel after the trial."
Japp grumbled and grumbled as they waited for the manageress.
"Why did the woman disappear?"
"You admit that it's rather puzzling, don't you?"
They were not able to talk any further.
Mrs Harrison, proprietor of the Glengowell Court Hotel, arrives.
The tearful Mrs. Harrison is chatty.She was terribly worried for Miss Sainsbury Seale.What will happen to her?She quickly ran through every possible disaster.Lost money, suddenly sick, bleeding, run over by a bus, robbed or raped—at last she paused for breath, and whispered, "What a woman—she It is a pleasure and a comfortable stay with us."
At Japp's request, she led them upstairs to the modest bedroom of the missing woman.Everything was tidied up and in order.Clothes hung in the wardrobe, nightgowns were neatly folded on the bed, and Miss Sainsbury Seale's two modest trunks stood in one corner of the room.There was a row of shoes under the dresser—some solid Oxfords, two very tacky high-gloss shoes with pointed heels and leather knots, and a few more nearly new. black satin slippers, and a pair of slippers.Poirot noticed that the evening shoes were a size smaller than the daytime ones—a fact which could probably be attributed to want of money or vanity.He wondered if Miss Sainsbury Seale had taken the time to sew on the matching buckles on her shoes before she went out.I hope she sews it up.He has always hated slovenliness.
Japp was now busy rummaging through some letters in a drawer of the dresser.Hercule Poirot carefully opened a drawer of the chest of drawers, which was full of underwear.He closed it solemnly again, murmured that Miss Sainsbury Seale seemed to be fond of woolen clothing, and opened another drawer, which contained stockings.
Japp asked: "Anything to gain, Poirot?"
Poirot, dangling a pair of socks, said sadly: "Nine inches of cheap silk stockings, about two pounds elevenpence."
Japp said: "You're not here for an estimate, old chap. Here's a couple of letters from India, a receipt or two from a charity, and no bills to pay. Our Sainsbury West Miss Er is really a very respectable person."
"But too little taste in dress," said Poirot sadly.
"Perhaps she thinks dressiness is vulgar," said Japp, copying out the address of a letter from two months ago.
"These people might know something about her," he said, "living over in Hampstead. They seem to be pretty close."
Nothing was to be found at Glengowell Court Hotel, except that Miss Sainsbury Seale had gone away without any sign of agitation or apprehension, and it seemed that she was definitely going to be back.Because in the lobby of the hotel, passing her friend Mrs. Poleso, she had said, "I'll teach you the kind of cards I'm talking about after dinner."
In addition, the Glengowell Court Hotel has a rule that if you want to go out to eat, you must leave a message for the restaurant.Miss Sainsbury Seale didn't do that.It was evident, therefore, that she was going to be back for the supper which was served between seven-thirty and eight-thirty.
However, she didn't come back.She went out, onto Cromwell Road, and disappeared.
Japp and Poirot visited West Hampstead at the address on the letterhead they had found.
It was a comfortable house, and the Addamses were a big, warm family.They had lived in India for many years and thought very well of Miss Sainsbury Seale.But they can't help.
They had seen her lately, months, in fact, not since they got back from Easter break.At that time she lived in a hotel near Russell Square.Mrs Adams gave Poirot this address, and the addresses of Miss Sainsbury Seale's other English friends who had lived in Streathan and had lived in India.
But the two men found nothing in either place.It was learned at the hotel that she had indeed stayed there, but they were too impressed with her to remember anything that would help in the investigation.She is a simple and good person who has lived abroad for a long time.The people of Streehan couldn't help either.They haven't seen her since February.
There was also the possibility that an accident had occurred, but that possibility was also ruled out, with hospitals saying there were no casualties matching the description.
Miss Sainsbury Seale disappeared as if in space.
The next morning Poirot arrives at the Holborn Palace Hotel and asks to see Mr Howard Rex.
This time, he would not be surprised to hear that Mr. Howard Rex also went out at night and never came back.
Mr. Howard Rex, however, was still at the Holborn Palace Hotel, and was said to be having breakfast.
Hercule Poirot's ghostly presence at the breakfast table no doubt displeases Mr Howard Rex.
Although he looked less like a murderer than Poirot's messy memories of him, his scowling face was still formidable - he stared at the intruder in front of him and said rudely: "What is it?"
"Do you allow it?"
Hercule Poirot drew a chair from an adjacent table.
Mr. Rex said, "Don't ask me! Just sit down and do what you want!"
Poirot accepted the offer with a smile.
Mr. Rex said bluntly: "Tell me, what do you want?"
"Do you remember me, Mr. Rex?"
"I've never seen you in my life."
"Then you are mistaken. You have been in the same room with me for at least five minutes not more than three days ago."
"I can't remember everyone I met at that goddamn party."
"It's not a party," said Poirot, "it's in a dental waiting room."
There was a flash of throbbing in the young man's eyes, but it disappeared immediately.His demeanor changed.It was no longer fidgety, no longer contemptuous, but suddenly became cautious.Looking directly at Poirot, he said: "So what?"
Poirot studied him carefully before answering.He felt very clearly that this was indeed a dangerous young man.A lean, hungry face, a challenging jaw, and wild eyes.But this face can attract women.He was disheveled, even a bit shabby, and his unrestrained gobbling made Poirot, who was watching him, feel very interesting.
Poirot drew conclusions about him.This is a wolf full of ideas—
Rex snapped, "What on earth do you mean--come to me like this?"
"Is my visit not to your liking?"
"I don't even know who you are."
"terribly sorry."
Poirot deftly took out his card case, produced a card, and handed it over the table.
Again Mr. Rex's thin face had that throbbing that Poirot could not quite explain, not fear - more provocative than fear.And then, no doubt, anger ensues.
"So that's what you are, isn't it? I've heard of you."
"Most have heard of it," said Hercule Poirot modestly.
"You're a private eye, aren't you? Or the expensive one. People will hire you for anything - when it's going to cost them anything to save their pathetic lives!"
"If you don't drink your coffee," said Hercule Poirot, "it will be cold."
He spoke kindly, with dignity in his tone.
Rex stared at him.
"Tell me, what kind of bird are you?"
"The coffee in this country is really bad—" said Poirot.
"I said yes."Mr. Rex enthusiastically agreed.
"But if you let it cool, it's totally inedible."
The young man leaned forward. "What do you mean? What on earth do you want to do here?"
Poirot shrugged.
"I want to come—to see you."
"Oh, is it?" said Mr. Rex suspiciously.
He narrowed his eyes.
"If you're here for the money, you're looking for the wrong guy! The people I'm with can't afford what they want. Better go back to the guy who paid you."
Poirot sighed: "To this day, no one has paid me anything."
"And you tell me!" said Mr. Rex.
"It is true," said Poirot, "that I have been wasting a great deal of precious time for nothing. We may simply say that it was merely to satisfy my curiosity."
"I suppose," said Mr. Rex, "that you were only there to satisfy your curiosity at that damned dentist!"
Poirot shook his head. "You seem to have forgotten the most common reason for going to a dental waiting room—that is, to wait to be seen."
"That's what you're doing?" Mr. Rex said with a contemptuous suspicion in his tone. "Waiting for the dentist?"
"certainly."
"I beg your pardon to say that I don't believe it."
"Then may I ask, Mr. Rex, what did you do there?"
Mr. Rex grinned suddenly.He said: "You are waiting for me here! I am also waiting to see the dentist."
"Your tooth may have hurt at that time, right?"
"Yes, old friend."
"Nevertheless, you left without treatment?"
"So what if you leave? That's my own business."
He paused--and then he went on quickly, in a rude tone: "Oh, what's the use of this roundabout talk? You were there to guard your big shot. Well, he's all right." , isn't there? Nothing's wrong with your precious Alistair Brent. There's no need for you to come to me."
Poirot asked: "Where have you been since you left the waiting room so suddenly?"
"Certainly left the house."
"Ah!" Poirot raised his eyes to the ceiling, "but no one saw you leave, Mr. Rex."
"What does it matter?"
"Maybe it does. Remember, it didn't take long for someone to die in that house."
Rex said casually, "Oh, you mean the dentist."
Poirot's tone of voice was firm: "Yes, I'm talking about the doctor."
Rex stared at him and said, "You're trying to put this on me? Are you? You can't do that. I just read the report of the trial where a local anesthesia went wrong and a patient Got put to death, so the poor guy shot himself."
Poirot went on unmoved: "You say you left the house. Can you prove it? Can anyone tell where you were between twelve and one?"
The other's eyes narrowed again.
"So you're really putting this on me? I guess Brent taught you to do it?"
Poirot sighed: "Excuse me, but you seem to be possessed by a ghost—you are constantly nagging Mr. Alistair Blunt. I am not employed by him, I have never been employed by him." Hired. My concern is not his safety, but the death of a man who was doing well in a very good profession."
Rex shook his head.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I don't believe you, you must be Brent's private detective." He leaned over the table and his face hardened. "But you know, you can't save him. He has to go - he and everything he stands for! There should be a new deal - the old corrupt financial system must be killed - this damned, cobweb-like gang must be killed All the fellows who run banks all over the world in cahoots. Gotta get rid of them. I don't have a personal grudge against Brent--but he's the kind of guy I hate. Moderate--and pretentious .He is the kind of person who can be moved without explosives. He knows how to shout "the foundation of civilization, unshakable". Is it really unshakable? Let him wait and see! He is a stumbling block on the way forward, Must move. There's no place for Brents in the world today--they're always obsessed with the past like dogs looking back for a sniff--always wanting to live like their old man, or even old man's old man! You see them all over England--stubborn old-headed--a useless, feeble symbol of a decadent age. Good God, they must go! We must have a new world. Do you know what I mean?— New world, understand?"
Poirot sighed and stood up.He said, "I see, Mr. Rex, I see you're an idealist."
"So what?"
"For an idealist to care about a dentist's death is asking too much."
Mr. Rex said contemptuously, "What does it matter that a miserable dentist dies?"
Hercule Poirot said: "It's not about you, it's about me. That's the difference between us."
When Poirot arrived home, he heard George say that a lady was waiting to see him.
"She's--well--a little nervous, sir," said George.
因为这位女士没有通报姓名，波洛可以随意猜想。但他猜错了，当他走进房间的时候，不安地从沙发上站起来的年轻女人是已故的莫利先生的秘书，格拉迪丝内维尔小姐。
“哎呀，波洛先生。象这样来打扰您真是太抱歉了——我都不知道自己是怎么鼓起勇气来的——我怕您会觉得我太冒失——而且我也不想占用您的时间——我知道对一个工作繁忙的职业人员来说，时间意味着什么——但我实在太难受了——只有我敢说您会认为这完全是浪费时间——”
长时间和英国人的接触使波洛获益非浅，他建议来一杯茶。内维尔小姐的反应正是他所希望的。
“噢，真的，波洛先生，您真是太好了。虽然才吃了早饭不久，但人是什么时候都可以守着一杯茶的，是不是？”
波洛假意地附和着，虽然他是什么时候都可以没有茶。乔治遵照吩咐付诸行动，在短得令人不可思议的时间里，就在波洛和跟他面对面坐着的客人中间放上了一只茶盘。
“我得向您道谦”，内维尔小姐说，由于饮料的效用，她又恢复了惯常的镇静，“但昨天的庭审实在让我心烦意乱。”
“我相信会的。”波洛好心地说。
“本来没有要我去提供证明或是做类似的什么。但我觉得应该有个人陪着莫利小姐去。当然，赖利先生在那儿——但我说的是女人。另外，莫利小姐并不喜欢赖利先生。所以我觉得出庭是我的职责。”
“您的心真是太好了。”波洛说，话中满带鼓励。
“啊。不，我只是感到我必须去，您瞧，我已经替莫利先生干了好些年了——这次的事对我来说是个很大的打击——当然，开庭更加重了这种打击——”
“恐怕这是肯定无疑的。”
内维尔小姐急切地向前探着身子。
“但全弄错了，波洛先生。真的完全弄错了。”
“哪儿错了，小姐？”
“嗯，那种事根本就不可能发生——决不会象他们说的那样——我指的是往病人牙龈里注射了过量药剂的说法。”
“您认为不会。”
“我可以肯定。偶尔确实有人遭这种殃，但那是因为他们自己生理上的不适应——他们的心脏活动跟常人不一样。我清楚超量的事是很少见的。您知道，开业的医生们对于按定量给药已形成习惯，以致完全成了一种机械性的行为——他们总能自动地给出准确的剂量。”
波洛点头称许说：“是这样，我自己就是这么想的。”
“您知道，这事太标准化了。它不象药剂师那样成天要配不同的数量，或者是要不断变换各种组成成分的剂量，那就容易因疏忽而发生差错。而且这也不象一般的内科医生那样要写很多不同的药方。牙科大夫完全不象那样。”
波洛问：“您没有要求向法庭陈述这些看法吗？”
格拉迪丝内维尔小姐摇摇头。她不安地缠扭着手指。
“您知道”，她终于打开了话头，“我怕——怕会把事情弄得更糟。当然，我知道莫利先生不会做那事的——但这可能会使别人觉得他——他是有意那么干的。”
Poirot nodded.
格拉迪丝内维尔小姐说：“我就是为这到您这儿来的，波洛先生。因为对您来说——这怎么也不是官方的调查。但我又实在认为应该有人知道这事是多么——多么的缺乏说服力。”
“没有人想知道这个。”波洛说。
她望着他，怔住了。
波洛说：“我想再了解一下您收到的那封电报，就是那天把您叫走的那封。”
“老实说，我也不知道那是怎么回事儿，波洛先生。确实太奇怪了，看得出来发电报的人对我了如指掌——还有姑姑——象她住在哪儿等等这一切。”
“是的，看来可能发报人是您的一个密友，或者是那所房子里的哪个很熟悉您情况的人。”
“我的朋友谁都不会做这种事的，波洛先生。”
“您对这个问题没有一点看法吗？”
姑娘犹豫了。她慢慢地说：“只是在开头，刚听说莫利先生自杀的时候，我曾经以为可能是他发的电报。”
“您是说，为了不让您碍手碍脚，把您打发走吗？”
姑娘点点头。
“可看来这真是太离奇了，哪怕他那天上午确实心里存着自杀的念头。的确很奇怪，弗兰克——就是我那朋友，您知道的——起初还为这个犯过傻呢。他责怪说我那天是想跟另外的哪个人一起出去——就好象我真会做这种事似的。”
“有那么个人吗？”
格拉迪丝内维尔脸红了。
“当然没有。可弗兰克最近变多了——不快活，还多疑。说真的，您知道，这完全是因为他丢掉了工作，又找不到新的。对男人来说老是闲荡着可太难了。我很为弗兰克担心。”
“他那天发现您出去了，是不是很不高兴？”
“是的，要知道，他是来告诉我他找到了新工作的——一个很好的工作——每周挣十英镑。他等不及了，他希望马上让我知道。我想他也想要让莫利先生知道，因为他给莫利先生对他不正确的评价弄得伤了心，他还怀疑莫利先生想要说服我离开他。”
"is this real?"
“啊，是的，有那么点吧！当然，弗兰克确实丢了好些工作，而且也许他还不是象很多人说的那样很踏实。但从现在起他会不同了。我想一个人出于压力会做得到的，您不这么认为吗，波洛先生？要是一个男人感到有个女人对他寄望很高的话，他会尽力按照她的希望去生活的。”
波洛叹了一口气，但他没有同她争辩。他听到很多女人谈过同样的观点，她们同样轻信着一个女人的爱情有着惊天动地的拯救力量。他带点冷嘲地想，这种事，一千次里也许能有一次成为真的。
他简单地说：“我想见见您这位朋友。”
“我很愿意让您见见他，波洛先生。但他只有星期天才有空。您瞧，他现在整个星期都要到乡下去。”
“啊，做那份新工作。对了，那是什么工作呀？”
“嗯，我也不很清楚，波洛先生。我想，大概是秘书这一行的吧。要不就是在政府的什么部门，我只知道写信得写到弗兰克在伦敦的地址，再由他们转。”
“这可有点奇怪，是不是？”
“我也这么想——可弗兰克说最近都这样。”
波洛对着她瞧了一会儿，没有说话。
然后他不慌不忙地说：“明天就是星期天，对吧？也许你们两位会赏光和我一道吃午饭——在洛根饭店怎么样？我愿意同你们俩一起再讨论一下这桩令人悲痛的事件。”
“嗯——谢谢，波洛先生。我——是的，我们很愿意和您一起共进午餐。”
弗兰克卡特是个肤色白皙、中等个头的年轻人。外表给人一种鬼聪明的印象。他说话快而流利。两只眼睛挨得很拢，每当他窘迫为难的时候，它们就会不自在地从左到右乱动。
他显得多疑，还带点不肯合作的味道。
“我没想到会有幸与您共进午餐，波洛先生。格拉迪丝一点儿也没有告诉我。”
说话间他生气地瞥了她一眼。
“这是昨天才安排的”，波洛微笑着说道，“内维尔小姐对莫利先生之死的有关情况感到很心烦，我觉得是不是我们一起来想想办法——”
弗兰克卡特粗暴地打断他。
“莫利之死？提起莫利的死我就烦！为什么你不能忘了它，格拉迪丝？我可没看出他身上有什么好的地方。”
“噢，弗兰克，我觉得你不该那么讲。对了，他还给我留了一百英镑呢。昨天晚上我收到了信。”
“好吧，好吧”，弗兰克怀着嫉恨地让了步，“但话又说回来，他为什么不该这么做呢？他把你当黑鬼似地使唤——可是谁把油水都捞光了呢？嘿，是他！”
“噢，当然是他啦——他给了我这么高的工资。”
“照我看来，才不是呢！你太克己了，格拉迪丝，我的姑娘，你是自己心甘情愿地去上别人的当，你知道。我可是看透了莫利。你跟我一样清楚他费尽心机想让你抛弃我。”
“他不了解我们的情况。”
“他清楚得很。那家伙现在死了——不然的话，我可以跟你说我会直言不讳地跟他谈上一谈的。”
“实际上他死的那天上午您就到那儿去准备这么做了，是不是？”赫克尔波洛彬彬有礼地问道。
弗兰克卡特生气地说：“谁说的？”
“您确实去了，是不是？”
“去了又怎么样？我想见内维尔小姐。”
“但是他们告诉你她不在。”
“是的，可以告诉你这让我直犯疑。我对那红头发的傻瓜说我要等着见莫利。这种让格拉迪丝来反对我的把戏已经玩得够久了。我要对莫利说，我不再是一个没钱、没工作的窝囊废，我找到了一个好工作，现在该是格拉迪丝提出辞呈、准备嫁妆的时候了。”
“但是您并没有真的对他讲吧？”
“是的，我在那阴森森的坟墓里边等得不耐烦了，于是就走了。”
“您什么时候走的。”
"Can not remember."
“那么您是什么时候到的呢？”
“不知道。十二点过一点吧，我想。”
“您等了半个小时——还是更久——或者不到半小时呢？”
“告诉你我不知道。我不是那种老是看表的家伙。”
“您在候诊室的时候，那儿还有别人吗？”
“我进去的时候有个肥得流油的家伙，但他没呆多久。后来就只我一个人了。”
“那您肯定是十二点半以前走的——因为那时候来了一位女士。”
“我敢说是这样。我跟你说过那地方让我心神不定的。”
波洛沉思地望着他。
这个咆哮的人有些不自在——这番话听起来不太象真的。但是这也许可能解释为仅仅是因为紧张。
波洛说话的神态平和而友好：“内维尔小姐告诉我，您很幸运，找到了个相当好的工作。”
“工钱不少。”
“每星期十英镑，她告诉我。”
“是这样。还不错，是不是？这说明只要我真正干起什么事来，就能把它干成。”
他颇有点自鸣得意起来。
“是的，确实如此。那活儿不苦吧？”
弗兰克卡特简短地说：“还好。”
“有趣吗？”
“啊，是的，很有意思。说到工作，我一直对你们私人侦探怎么办案很感兴趣。我想，并不完全象歇洛克福尔摩斯那种味道吧？现在多数是离婚案吧？”
“我从来不关心离婚案。”
“真的吗？那我就不知道你靠什么生活了。”
“我能应付。我的朋友，我能应付。”
“但您是最拔尖的人物，是吧，波洛先生？”格拉迪丝内维尔小姐插话道，“莫利先生常这么说。我是说您的主顾都是皇亲国戚、内政部或者是女公爵一流的显贵。”
波洛对她微微一笑。
“您过奖了。”他说。
波洛穿过空荡荡的街道回家去，满脑子思绪万千。
到家以后，他给杰普打了电话。
“原谅我来打扰你，我的朋友，但你们真的一点儿都没有调查发给格拉迪丝内维尔的那封电报吗？”
“还念念不忘这个问题吗？是的，事实上我们作了调查。确实有那么一封电报，而且——做得相当聪明——那位姑妈住在萨默塞特的雷奇波恩，而电报是从雷奇巴恩发的——你知道，在伦敦郊外。”
赫克尔波洛赞赏地说：“是很聪明——是的，的确聪明。要是收报人偶尔扫一眼电报是从哪儿发的话，这个地名足够使她相信是来自雷奇波恩的了。”
他停了一下。
“你知道我在想什么吗，杰普？”
"what?"
“这里边有着谋划的痕迹。”“赫克尔波洛要它是一桩谋杀案，它就不能不是谋杀案。”
“那你怎么解释这封电报呢？”
“巧合。有人在戏弄那姑娘。”
"why?"
“喔，上帝啊，你说人们做一件事情是为什么？恶作剧，瞎胡闹。开玩笑找错了对象，就这样。”
“也就是说，就在莫利要在注射时出差错的那天，有人想给自己寻点乐子玩玩。”
“这里边也许有一定的因果关系，因为内维尔小姐不在，莫利就比平时都忙，因此也就更容易出差错。”
“我还是不满意。”
“也许吧——可是你不知道你的观点正在把自己往哪条道上引吗？要是真有人把la（法语：这位）内维尔支走的话，那很可能是莫利自己，那么就是他蓄意谋杀了安伯里奥兹而不是意外事故了。”
波洛沉默了。杰普问：“你明白了吗？”
波洛说：“安伯里奥兹可能另有死因。”
“不会。没有人到萨瓦旅馆去找过他。他在自己房间里吃的午饭。医生说麻醉剂肯定是注射而不是从口中摄入的——因为它不在胃里。就是这样，事情很清楚。”
“这正是我们要思考的问题。”
“不管怎么说，头儿对此很满意。”
“他对那位失踪的女人也感到满意吗？”
“你是说那个西尔失踪案吗？不，我可以跟你说，我们仍然在办这案子。那女人一定在什么地方。人不可能就这么走上街就不见了。”
“她好象就做到了。”
“这只是暂时的。不管她是死是活，但她肯定在什么地方，而且我认为她不会死的。”
"why?"
“因为我们至今还没有找到她的尸体。”
“噢，我的杰普，尸体总是这么快就暴露出来吗？”
“我想你是在暗示说现在她已经被暗杀了，而且我们会在一个采石场里发现她被砍成碎片，就象以前的拉克森太太一样。”
“不管怎么说，mon ami（法语：我的朋友），确实有失踪的人给你们找到的时候就是这副模样。”
“很少，老朋友。是的，有很多女人失踪，可我们通常都能找到她们。十次有九次都是跟男女之事有关。她们跟一个男人一起在什么地方。但我觉得这对我们的梅贝尔不太可能，你说呢？”
“谁知道呢”，波洛谨慎地说，“但我也觉得不大可能。这么说你很有把握能找到她吗？”
“我们准能找到她。我们向新闻界发布了她的特征，还在英国广播公司播了寻人启事。”
“啊”，波洛说，“我疑心这没什么用。”
“别担心，老朋友。我们会把你那失踪的美人给你找回来的——毛料内衣，一样不缺。”
他挂了电话。
乔治象往常一样脚步无声地走进屋来。把一壶热气腾腾的巧克力饮料和几个糖饼放在一张小桌上。
“还有什么事吗，先生？”
“我心里象乱麻一样，不知从哪下手，乔治。”
“是吗，先生？听您这么说我真感到遗憾。”
赫克尔波洛给自己倒了点巧克力，若有所思地搅着。
看到这个动作，乔治恭恭敬敬地站在那儿，等待着。赫克尔波洛有时爱和他的贴身男仆讨论一些问题。他总是说乔治的评论对他有着非同一般的帮助。
“乔治，你肯定知道，我的牙医死了吧？”
“先生是说莫利先生吗？是的，先生。这很令人悲痛，先生。他自杀了，这我知道。”
“大家是这么认为的。假使他不是自杀，那一定就是被谋杀了。”
"Yes, sir."
“问题是，如果是谋杀，是谁杀了他呢？”
“太对了，先生。”
“只有一部分人，乔治，有可能杀他。就是那些当时确实在或者可能在那所房子里的人。”
“太对了，先生。”
“这些人是，一个厨娘、一个女仆，她们都是些可信的仆人，不大可能做这种事。还有他那慈爱的姐姐，也不大可能，只是她要继承她弟弟的遗产，虽然数量并不多——而人是不可能完全在金钱方面超脱的。还有一个能干、会办事的合伙人，一个读廉价犯罪小说上瘾的、有点傻呼呼的听差。然后，是一个履历有点不清不白的希腊先生。”
乔治咳了一下。
“那些外国佬，先生——”
“说得很对，我完全同意。很明显他是有来头的。不过要知道，乔治，那位希腊先生也死了，而且看起来倒是莫利先生杀了他——究竟是出于有意还是由一个不幸的错误造成的，人们还无法肯定。”
“先生，有可能，是他们各自杀死了对方。我是说，先生，这两位先生都想要除掉对方，但是，当然，谁都没有察觉到对方的意图。”
波洛用愉快的声调赞许地表示满意。
“真是独到的见解，乔治。牙医谋杀了坐在手术椅上的希腊先生，却没想到这时候那个受害者正在盘算着什么时候掏出手枪来。当然，有可能是这样，但是在我看来，乔治，这根本不可能。我们还没把那些人都列出来呢。那时候还有另外两个人可能在那房子里。在安伯里奥兹先生之前来的病人当中，除了一位年轻的美国先生以外，都有人看着他们离开。大约十二点差二十的时候，这位美国先生从候诊室出来，但谁都没有看见他离开那所房子。因此，我们必须把他当作一种可能性来考虑。还有一种可能性是一个叫弗兰克卡特的先生（他并不是病人），他是十二点刚过就来想找莫利先生的。也没有人看见他离开。我的乔治，这，就是事实，你怎么想的？”
“谋杀是什么时候发生的，先生？”
“如果是安伯里奥兹先生杀的人，那么可能发生在十二点到十二点二十五分之间的任何时间。如果是别的人干的，那就是发生在十二点二十五分以后，要不然安伯里奥兹先生会发现尸体。”
他用鼓励的目光注视着乔治。
“现在，我的好乔治，你有什么要说的吗？”
乔治沉思着。他说：“先生，我觉得——”
“怎么样呢，乔治？”
“您将来得要另外找一个大夫给您看牙了，先生。”
赫克尔波洛道：“你大有长进了，乔治。这方面的事情我还根本没考虑到。”
带着满足的神情，乔治退了出去。
赫克尔波洛继续在那儿呷着巧克力，又回想了一遍刚列出的事实。他很满意，情况正象他所说的那样。在这群人当中就有一只确实干了那事的手——不管它是秉承谁的旨意干的。
突然他的眉毛使劲一挑，他意识到他的名单并不完全。他漏掉了一个名字。
不该有人被漏掉——即使那最不可能的人。
谋杀发生时房子里还有另外一个人。
他写下来，巴恩斯先生。
乔治报告：“有位女士打电话找您，先生。”
一周以前，波洛曾猜错了一位访问者的身份。但这次他猜对了。
他立即就听出了那声音。
“赫克尔波洛先生吗？”
"Speaking."
“我是珍妮奥莉维亚——阿里斯泰尔布伦特先生的侄外孙女。”
“是的，奥莉维亚小姐。”
“能请您来一趟哥特楼吗？有点事我想应该让您知道。”
“当然可以。什么时候来方便呢？”
“请您六点半来吧。”
“我一定到。”
有一瞬间，那专断的口气有点犹豫。
“我——我希望没有打扰您的工作吧？”
“没有没有。我正等着您给我挂电话。”
他很快放下听筒，面带微笑地离开电话机。他不知道珍妮奥莉维亚会找什么样的借口把他找去。
到了哥特楼，他被迳直引到临河的那间大书房里。阿里斯泰尔布伦特正坐在写字台前，心不在焉地玩着一把裁纸刀。他稍稍有点不耐烦，这是那种家里女人太多的男人的表情。
珍妮奥维莉亚站在壁炉旁。波洛走进去的时候，一个长得非常丰满的中年女人正在急暴暴地说着——“我真的认为在这件事上应该考虑考虑我的感觉，布伦特。”
“好的，朱莉娅，当然，当然。”
布伦特安慰着她，同时站起来迎接波洛。
“如果你们要谈可怕的事，我就该走开了。”那女人还在说。
“我正要谈，妈妈。”珍妮奥莉维亚说。
奥莉维亚夫人走出屋去，不肯屈尊注意一下波洛。
阿里斯泰尔布伦特说：“您来了真好，波洛先生。我想您已经见过奥莉维亚小姐了吧？是她叫您来——”
珍妮突然插话：“是关于报上满版都是的那个失踪女人，叫什么西尔小姐的。”
“塞恩斯伯里西尔？怎么啦？”
“这名字太拗口了，所以我才能记起来。是我告诉他呢，还是您说，阿里斯泰尔姨公？”
“亲爱的，这可是你的故事啊。”
珍妮再次转向波洛。
“也许这事一点也不重要——但我觉得您应该知道。”
"yes?"
“那是阿里斯泰尔姨公最后一次去看牙——我不是说那天——我指的是大约三个月左右以前的事了。我和他一起坐罗尔斯车去夏洛蒂皇后街，车还要带我到雷津公园去会几个朋友，然后再回来接他。我们停在58号门前，姨公走了出去，就在这里，有个女人从58号门里出来——是个头发花里胡哨、衣服造作的中年女人。她迳直朝姨公走去，说（珍妮奥莉维亚的声音提高，发出一种不自然的刺耳的音调），'啊，布伦特先生，您一定是不记得我了，我敢肯定！'当然，我从姨公脸上看得出来，他简直是一点也不记得她——”
阿里斯泰尔布伦特叹了一口气。
“我确实想不起。人们总是这么说——”
“他又摆出那副脸孔”，珍妮接着说，“我可是了解透了。彬彬有礼的假装相信。其实连小孩子都瞒不过。他用一种根本没法让人相信的声音说，'噢——呃——当然。'那可怕的女人接着还说，'我可是你妻子的好朋友呀！'”
“别的人也经常这么说”，阿里斯泰尔布伦特的声音带着一种格外深沉的忧郁。
他苦苦地一笑。
“这种事结局也总是一样的！给这样或那样捐点钱。那一回我就向一个什么印度深闺妇女慈善团捐了五个英镑。真是不贵！”
“她真的认识您夫人吗？”
“哦，她对深闺妇女慈善团这么感兴趣，这让我觉得，要是她真认识她的话，那应该是在印度。十年前我们去过那儿。但是，当然，她不可能跟她是好朋友，不然我该知道的。顶多是在哪次聚会时见过她一面。”
珍妮奥莉维亚说：“我不相信她见过吕蓓卡姨婆。那不过是跟你说话的借口。”
阿里斯泰尔布伦特宽容地说：“对，这也很可能。”
珍妮说：“我是说，我觉得她那拼命跟你套近乎的方式很可疑，姨公。”
阿里斯泰尔布伦特还是那么宽容地说：“她不过想让我捐点钱而已。”
波洛问：“她再没有进一步的举动吗？”
布伦特摇摇头。
“我再也没见到过她。要不是奥莉维亚在报纸上发现她的名字，我早就给忘了。”
珍妮带点踌躇地说：“啊，我想应该有人把这事告诉波洛先生。”
波洛礼貌地说：“谢谢，小姐。”
他又说：“我不再占用您的时间了，布伦特先生，您可是个大忙人。”
珍妮赶紧说：“我送您下去。”
赫克尔波洛的小胡子下面浮现出一丝微笑。
到了底楼，珍妮突然停住脚步。她说：“请您到这儿来。”
他们走进大厅旁边的一间小屋。
她转过身来，面对着他。
“您在电话里说您正在等我给您打电话，是什么意思？”
波洛笑了。他两手一摊。
“就这意思，小姐。我正在等您打来电话——而电话就打来了。”
“您是说您知道我会打电话来告诉您关于这个叫塞恩斯伯里西尔的女人的事？”
Poirot shook his head.
“那只是一个借口。如果必要的话您还会发现一些别的东西的。”
珍妮说：“究竟为什么我就一