Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Seven is seven, eight is eight, put them neatly

Time flies, Mr. Morley has been dead for a month, and there is still no news of Miss Sainsbury Seale. Japp was growing furious at this. "Damn it, Poirot, where is this woman supposed to be?" "Without a doubt, mon cher (French: my friend)." "Dead or alive. If she's dead, where's the body? Say, she killed herself—" "Another suicide?" "Don't pull it back, you're still thinking Molly was murdered—I say he committed suicide." "Haven't you found out the origin of that pistol?" "No, it's a foreign product."

"That explains something, doesn't it?" "Not in the sense you mean. Molly has traveled abroad, he has traveled abroad, he and his sister. Everyone in the British Isles has traveled abroad. He probably did it abroad. A lot of people when they go abroad They like to carry a gun. They like to think that life is dangerous." He paused and said again: "Don't interrupt me. I just said that if—I'm telling you it's only if—the damn woman committed suicide. If she committed suicide by jumping into the river, the body should have surfaced by now. If she was killed, she should be found."

"It would be different if a weight had been tied to her body and thrown into the Thames." "And you're going to say it came from a cellar in a lime house in the ghetto! It's like you're telling a thriller written by a female author." "I know—I know, I'd blush just talking about it." "I think, maybe she was killed by an international gangster organization?" Poirot sighed, and said: "I have only recently heard of such a thing." "Who told you that?" "Mr Reginald Barnes of Castle Ealing Road." "Well, he might know," said Japp vaguely, "that he was in charge of aliens at the Home Office."

"Do you disagree with that opinion?" "That sort of thing is out of my hands—well, yes, there is such a thing—but it doesn't help." There was a brief silence between them, Poirot smoothing his moustache. Japp said: "We got an extra piece or two. She and Amberiozzi came back from India on the same boat. But she was second class and he was first class, so I think There would be no question here, though a waiter at the Savoy Hotel said she had lunched with him once a week or so before his death." "So there might be a relationship between them?"

"Possibly--but I don't think it's possible. I don't see any interesting business that such a missionary woman could get into." "Has Amberios ever been involved in what you call an 'interesting business'?" "Yes, he has close contacts with some of our Central European friends. He is engaged in intelligence business." "Are you sure?" "Yes. Oh, he doesn't do the dirty work himself. We can't touch him. Organizing and taking reports—that's what he does." Japp paused, then went on: "But it doesn't help us with the Sainsbury Seale matter. She couldn't have been involved in that kind of business."

"Remember, she lived in India, and it wasn't very peaceful there last year." "Amber Riozz and the excellent Miss Sainsbury Seale—I don't always think they seem like accomplices." "Did you know that Miss Sainsbury Seale was a close friend of the late Lady Alistair Brent?" "Who said that? I don't believe it. They're not of the same class." "She said it herself." "To whom?" "Alistair Brent." "Oh! That sort of thing. He must be all right. Do you mean Amberiozzi is trying to use her in this way? It's no use. Brent will give her some money and get her out of here." Gone. He won't ask her to stay for the weekend or anything. Brent wouldn't be so unsophisticated."

This was obviously true, and Poirot had to agree.After a while Japp went on to summarize his thoughts on the situation at Sainsbury Seale. "Maybe her body was put in an acid tank by some mad scientist—another one of those storybook conclusions that people love! But the way I see it, that's impossible. If that The woman is really dead, and her body must have been quietly buried somewhere." "Where is it?" "Good question. She disappeared in London. No one has a garden here - nothing suitable. A chicken farm out of the way - that's what we're looking for!"

garden?Poirot's mind suddenly flashed the neat and well-proportioned garden of Yiling with its well-organized nursery.How thrilling it would be if a dead woman were buried there! He warned himself not to be too absurd. "If she's not dead," continued Japp, "where is she? It's been over a month, and her features have been published in the papers, and they've been spread all over England—" "Has no one seen her?" "Oh no, everybody's seen her, actually! You can't tell how many ordinary-looking middle-aged women in teal cardigans. She's on the Yorkshire Moors, in Liverpool's In the hotel she was also found in Devon's guest rooms, on the beach at Ramsgate! My men patiently took the time to look into all these reports - nothing but a lot of perfectly decent mistakes for us None of them except middle-aged women."

Poirot gasped in sympathy. "However," continued Japp, "she's quite a real person. I mean sometimes you might just happen to talk about a fictional person, like—someone who just went somewhere, named Miss Spinks' people--and there never was such a Miss Spinks at this time. But the woman we're talking about lived up to the name--she had a history, a background! From her childhood We know everything. She lived a normal, perfectly normal life—and suddenly, hey, changed!—disappeared!" "There must be a reason for it," said Poirot. "She didn't kill Molly, if that's what you mean. Amberiozzi saw him alive after she left—and we checked her whereabouts since she left Queen Charlotte Street that morning."

Poirot said impatiently: "I never said she killed Molly. Of course it couldn't be her, but nonetheless—" Japp said: "If you're right about Molly's death, it's more likely that he gave her clues about his killer, although she didn't pay much attention to it. In this case, she completely It may have been removed." Poirot said, "All of this is related to a certain organization. The death of an inviolable dentist on Queen Charlotte Street is not commensurate with the huge stakes hidden here." "You can't take everything Reginald Barnes says to be true! He's a funny old bastard - full of spies and communists."

Japp stood up, and Poirot said: "Let me know if you have any news." After Japp had gone, Poirot sat down at the table morosely. He clearly felt what he was waiting for.what is it then? He remembered how he used to sit at his desk and jot down unconnected facts and long lists of names.A bird flew by the window with a twig in its beak. He has also been searching for twigs.Five is five, six is ​​six, and there are many grass branches in the nest-he has grass branches-now there are quite a few.They were all there, neatly recorded in his organized head - but he hadn't gotten around to tidying them up yet.That's the next step - laying them out neatly. What made him stop?He knows the answer to this question.He is waiting for something. That is the inescapable, the inescapable, the next link on the chain of beads.When it came—then—then he could go on. A week later, late one night, the call finally came. Japp was a little rough on the phone. "Is that you, Poirot? We have found her. You had better come. King Leopold's Flats, 45, Battersea Park." A quarter of an hour later a taxi dropped Poirot outside King Leopold's apartment. It is an apartment complex overlooking Battersea Park. Number 45 is on the second floor.It was Japp himself who came to answer the door. His face was wrinkled with fury. "Come in," he said, "it's uncomfortable, but I think you'll like to see for yourself." Poirot asked--but it was hardly necessary, "Is she dead?" "It should be said that he died a miserable death!" Poirot tilted his head, listening to a familiar voice coming from a door on the right. "That's the janitor," said Japp, "was throwing up at the sink, and I had to call him up to see if he recognized her." He led the way, followed by Poirot.His nose wrinkled. "It doesn't taste very good," said Japp, "but what can you hope for? She's been dead for over a month." They entered a small room stacked with sundries and boxes.In the middle of the room was a large chest for furs, the lid was open. Poirot took a step forward and looked in. He saw the feet first, the shoes in need of repair, and the buckles that were too artificial.He remembered that his first impression of Miss Sainsbury Seale was the shoelace buckle. His eyes moved, past the green cardigan and skirt, and finally to her head. He yelped indistinctly. "I know," Japp said, "it's pretty scary." Her face was beaten to pieces.There is no recognizable shape at all.Coupled with the natural decay process, the two men inevitably looked pale when they turned away. "Ah, well," said Japp, "it's the day's work—our day's work. We have a bad job sometimes, no doubt. There's a bit of brandy in that room. You'd better have it." The living room was furnished in the most fashionable style--a lot of chrome furniture, and some large, boxy chairs covered in ecru textile upholstery with geometric patterns. Poirot found the corked flask and poured some brandy out of it.When he drank it, he said, "It's not pretty like that! Now, my friend, tell me all about it." "This apartment belongs to a Mrs. Albert Chapman," said Japp. "I suppose Mrs. Chapman is a well-dressed, dashing blond lady over forty years of age. She paid her bills on time. She enjoyed an occasional game of bridge with her neighbors, but she was still somewhat social. She had no children. Mr. Chapman was a traveling salesman. "Sainsbury Seale came here the evening after we visited her. It was about seven-fifty. So she probably came straight from the Glengowell Court Hotel. According to the porter Well, she's been here once before. Well, totally unsuspecting, above board—a friendly visit. The porter takes Miss Sainsbury Seale up to this apartment in the lift. When he sees her for the last time, She was standing on the shoemat by the door ringing the bell." Poirot remarked: "It took him a long time to think about it." "He had a stomach bug and seemed to be in the hospital, and someone else came to his shift. It wasn't until a week ago that he happened to notice a 'missing woman' characterization in an old newspaper, he told his wife. Said 'this is very much like the woman who came to find Mrs. Chapman on the second floor. She also wore a green cardigan with buckles on her shoes'. After about another hour, he said - remember she also had a A name like that. Why, it's just—Miss Searle." "After that," continued Japp, "it took him another four days to get over his natural distrust of dealing with the police and come with his news. "We didn't think it was going to go anywhere. We've had countless false alarms. But, I sent Inspector Beddoes anyway - he's a smart lad. He's got that kind of education A little more, but there's nothing he can do about it. It's the fashion now. "Well, Beddoes had a hunch right away that we'd finally got something. One reason was that Mrs. Chapman hadn't shown up for over a month, and she left without giving her address. That's kind of weird. Actually he could learn Everything about Mr. and Mrs. Chapman is weird. "He found out that the porter hadn't seen Miss Sainsbury Seale leave. There was nothing particularly strange in itself. She could have gone down the stairs without him noticing. Then the porter told him to check. Mrs Pullman left so abruptly that the next morning there was only a large printed note outside the door: 'Tell Nellie not to deliver the milk, I have been called away'. "Nellie was the day maid who worked for her, and Mrs Chapman had gone away like this once or twice before, so the girl didn't think it strange. But it was strange that she didn't call the porter to bring her luggage." Take it down or call her a cab. "Anyway, Beddoes decided to go into the room. We got a search warrant, got the manager the key, and found nothing of interest except the bathroom. The bathroom seemed hastily done. Like sweeping. There's a spot of blood on the linoleum--the carpet was left in a corner when the floor was washed. It's just a matter of finding the body after that. Mrs. Chapman couldn't have brought the case. , or the concierge would have known. So it must still be in the suite. We soon found out that the fur chest—it was sealed—was the one that was there. The keys were in the dresser drawer. "We opened it up—the missing woman was inside! It's a mistletoe bough now!" Poirot asked: "How is Mrs. Chapman?" "How about what? Are you trying to ask 'Who is Sylvia'—yes, her name is Sylvia—'how is she?'? One thing's for sure. Sylvia, or It was Sylvia's friend who killed the woman and put her in a box." Poirot nodded in agreement. He asked: "But why do you want to disfigure her? This is not right." "I'd say there's something wrong with that! As to why—well, I can only speculate. Maybe it's pure revenge. Or maybe it's an attempt to hide her identity." Poirot frowned. He said, "But it doesn't hide her identity." "It was not concealed, not only because we had a good and effective description of what Mabel Sainsbury Seale was wearing when she disappeared, but also because her handbag was stuffed into the case, and there was a piece of paper in it. An old letter with the address of her hotel in Russell Square." Poirot sat up straight.He said, "But this—this is not in line with common sense!" "Of course not, I think it's an oversight." "Yes—probably an oversight. But—" He stood up. "Have you carefully inspected the house?" "Pretty carefully. But nothing." "I want to see Mrs. Chapman's bedroom." "Come with me." The bedroom showed no sign of a hasty departure.It's neat inside.The bed didn't sleep.But already paved and ready for bed at night.There was a thick layer of dust everywhere. Japp said: "No fingerprints, at least we haven't found them. There are a few fingerprints in the kitchen, but I think they'll turn out to be the maid's." "You mean the whole place was carefully cleaned after the murder?" "yes." Poirot's eyes scanned the room slowly.Like the living room, the room was stylishly furnished--and, he thought, a man of moderate means had decorated it.Things are valuable, but not extremely expensive.Gorgeous, but not classy.The color is rose red.He looked into the built-in wardrobe and felt the clothes—beautiful, but not top quality.His eyes fell on shoes—mostly the current style of sandals; some had wide cork soles.He gestured with one in his hand, noted that Mrs. Chapman was wearing a size five, and put it down again.In another closet, he found a pile of furs, huddled together. "It was in the fur box," said Japp. Poirot nodded. He touched a gray squirrel fur suit and commented appreciatively: "First-class fur." Then he went into the bathroom. There are a lot of cosmetics ostentatiously displayed there.Poirot watched them with interest.Powder, lipstick, cream, foundation, skin cream, and two bottles of hair dye. "I don't think she's a natural blonde," Japp said. Poirot whispered: "At forty, mon ami (French: my friend), most women's hair begins to turn gray, but our Mrs. Chapman is a person who refuses to obey the laws of nature. " "She's probably dyed red now." "how could I know?" Japp said: "There is something worrying you, Poirot, what is it?" Poirot said: "Yes, I am worried, I am very worried. Here, you see, I have a problem that cannot be explained." He resolutely walked into the utility room again. He picked up the shoe from the dead woman's foot.It is very tight and difficult to take off. He checked the buckles, which were rough hand-stitched. Hercule Poirot sighed. "That's exactly what I was hoping for!" he said. Japp said incomprehensibly: "What are you trying to do—to make things more difficult?" "Exactly." Japp said, "A shoe, fastened with a buckle. What's the matter?" Hercule Poirot said: "Nothing—nothing at all. But anyway—I still can't figure it out." According to the footman, Mrs. Merton of 82 King Leopold's Apartments was Mrs. Chapman's best friend in the apartment complex. It was therefore No. 82 that Japp and Poirot went next. Mrs. Merton was talkative, with dark eyes and carefully combed hair.She talked without doing anything at all.It's all too easy for her to get into a state of drama. "Sylvia Chapman - well, of course, I don't know her very well - I should say, don't know her heart. We played bridge at night and went to the movies together, of course, sometimes And shopping together. But, oh, please tell me—she's not dead, is she?" Japp reassured her. "Oh, I'm so glad to hear that! But the papers just got around the news that a body was found in a flat—people don't believe half of what they hear, do they? I never Do not believe." Japp asks a deeper question. "No, I haven't heard a word from Mrs. Chapman--since she's gone. She must have gone in a hurry, because we said we'd be seeing Ginger Rogers and Fred next week. Astaire's new film. She didn't say anything at the time." Mrs Merton had never heard of a Miss Sainsbury Seale.Mrs. Chapman never spoke of a man by that name. "But, you know, this name sounds familiar to me. It is very familiar. It seems that I have seen it somewhere recently." Japp said dryly: "In all the papers these last few weeks—" "By the way—missing notice, don't you? You think Mrs. Chapman might know her? No, I'm sure I've never heard that name mentioned by Sylvia." "Can you tell me something about Mr. Chapman, Mrs. Merton?" A very curious expression came over Mrs. Merton's face.She said: "I believe he was a traveling salesman, Mrs. Chapman told me. He went abroad for his company—an arms company, I believe. He went all over Europe." "Have you seen him?" "No, never. He seldom comes home, and when he does, he and Mrs. Chapman don't want to be disturbed. It's only natural." "Did you know that Mrs. Chapman has close relatives and good friends?" "I don't know about her friends. I don't think she has close relatives, she never talks about it." "Has she ever been to India?" "I don't know that." Mrs. Merton paused, then burst into question: "But tell me—why do you ask these questions? I know you are from Scotland Yard, but there must be some special reason?" "Well, you'll find out someday anyway, Mrs. Merton. In fact, a dead body was found in Mrs. Chapman's flat." "Oh!" Mrs. Merton looked for a moment like a dog with eyes as big as soccer balls. "Corpse! Isn't it Mr. Chapman? Or a foreigner?" Japp said, "It wasn't a man at all—it was a woman." "Woman?" Mrs. Merton looked even more surprised. Poirot asked softly: "Why do you think it's a man?" "Oh, I don't know, but it seems more likely." "Why? Is it because Mrs. Chapman has a habit of receiving male guests?" "Oh no - oh no, really not".Mrs. Merton was indignant. "I don't mean that at all. Sylvia Chapman isn't that kind of woman at all.—not at all! Only, because Mr. Chapman—I mean—" She stopped talking. Poirot said: "I think, madame, that you know a little more than you tell us." Mrs. Merton said hesitantly: "I must say, I don't know—what to do? I really don't want to betray people's confidence, and besides, I never repeated to anyone what Sylvia said to me. —with the exception of one or two close friends who I am sure are very reliable—” Mrs. Merton paused for breath.Japp said, "What the hell did Mrs. Chapman tell you?" Mrs. Merton leaned over and said in a low voice: "It's just—she slipped it up one day. We were watching a movie—about secret agents. You can see the writing, Mrs. Chapman said. The people in the film know very little about the subject, and then they say it - only she made me swear to secrecy. Mr. Chapman does secret work. He goes abroad a lot, and that's the real reason. Ammunition company No more than a cover. Mrs. Chapman is very worried because she always tries to correspond with him whenever he is out. Of course, it is very dangerous!" As they were walking up the stairs toward number 42, Japp suddenly yelled in disgust: "Damn it, Phillips Oppenheimer, Valentine Williams, and William Lecourt, I think I'm going crazy Already!" Sergeant Beddoes, the able young man, was waiting for them. He reported respectfully: "Have not gotten anything helpful from the maids, sir. Mrs. Chapman, it seems, changes maids quite often. This one has only worked for her for a month or two. She says Mrs. Chapman is a Nice guy, likes to listen to the radio, well-spoken, the girl thinks the husband is a licentious liar. But Mrs. Chapman never suspects. She sometimes has letters from abroad, some from Germany, and two from America , one from Italy, one from the Soviet Union. The girl's boyfriend collects stamps, and Mrs. Chapman often takes the stamps from the letters and gives them to her." "Anything found in Mrs. Chapman's letters and papers?" "Not at all, sir. She seldom keeps these. A few bills and receipts--all local. Some old theater programmes, a cookbook or two clipped from a newspaper, and a book about Pamphlet from the Puritan Women's Mission." "We can guess who brought it here. She doesn't sound like a murderer, does she? But she looks exactly like that. Anyway, at least she was an accomplice. Didn't find out that night. Stranger?" "The porter doesn't remember anything at all - and I don't think he can remember now, anyway, it's a huge apartment - people were always coming and going. He only remembered Miss Sainsbury Seale coming The date of that day because he was taken to hospital the next day and he really felt bad that night." "Did no one in the other rooms hear any strange noises?" The young man shook his head. "I asked both the upstairs and the downstairs of the suite. None of them could remember any unusual noises. They both had their radios on." The forensic doctor came out of the bathroom after washing his hands. "The smell of this corpse is too strong," he said enthusiastically, "send her here after the matter on your side is settled, and I will start the substantive work." "Is the cause of death not at all clear, doctor?" "I can't tell before the autopsy. It should be said that the wound on the face must have been caused after death. But I can't find out more about the situation until I send her to the autopsy room. A middle-aged woman, in good health-- The hair was dyed blond, but gray at the roots. There might have been some recognizable markings on the body—if not, it would have been difficult to identify her—oh, you know who she is, don’t you? That's great. What? That missing woman who's making a lot of noise? Well, you know, I never read a newspaper, I just do crossword puzzles." As the doctor withdrew, Japp said sarcastically, "That's how you read the papers!" Poirot rummaged on the table and picked up a little brown address-book. Industrious Beddoes said: "There's nothing particularly interesting in there—mostly barbers, dressmakers, and the like. I've copied everyone's names and addresses." Poirot opened the book and turned to the letter D. He read: Doctor Davies, 17 Prince Albert Street; Drake and Pomponetti, fishmongers.And beneath that, it read: Dentist, Mr. Morley, 58 Queen Charlotte Street. There was a green light in Poirot's eyes: "I think it is not difficult to confirm who the corpse is." Japp looked at him puzzled, and said, "Really—you're talking nonsense, aren't you?" "I want to find out," said Poirot excitedly. Miss Morley had moved to the country.She lives in a small cottage near Hertfordshire. The grenadiers received Poirot in a friendly manner.Since her brother's death, her face seems to be more grim, her stance is more straight, and her attitude towards life is stronger.She was very upset about the damage done to her brother's professional reputation by the outcome of the trial. Poirot had given her reason to believe that he believed as much as she did that the verdict of the jury was untrue.As a result, the Grenadier's demeanor became slightly more genial. She answered his question readily, and was right to ask her.Mr. Morley's work documents were carefully sorted out by Miss Neville and passed on to Mr. Morley's successor by her.Some patients were transferred to Mr. Riley, others admitted replacements, and still others went to other dentists. When Miss Morley had finished what she knew, she added: "So you've found the woman who was Henry's patient—Miss Sainsbury Seale—and she, too, was murdered. ?” The word "also" is a small challenge.She emphasized the word. Poirot asked: "Has your brother not mentioned Miss Sainsbury Seale to you in particular?" "No, I don't have that impression. He only talks to me if he has a particularly troublesome patient, or if a patient says something funny. But he usually doesn't talk much about his work. He likes to end the day Forget about it. Sometimes he gets very tired." "Do you remember hearing that your brother had a patient named Mrs. Chapman?" "Chapman? No, I don't think so. Miss Neville is the best way to help in such matters." "I'm really trying to get in touch with her, where is she now?" "I think she's been hired to work for a dentist in Ramsgate." "Hasn't she married that young man named Frank Carter?" "Yes, I wish she would never marry him. I don't like that young man, M. Poirot, really. There's something wrong with him. I don't think he has even the smallest sense of morality." Poirot said: "Do you think he will kill your brother?" Miss Morley said slowly: "I do think he could have done such a thing--he couldn't control his temper. But I can't really see any motive in him--had no chance of doing it. You I think Henry failed to persuade Glasty to give up on him, she followed him so passionately." "Do you think he will be bribed?" "Buying? To kill my brother? This kind of idea is really bizarre!" At this moment a beautiful dark-haired girl brought tea.When she had shut the door and gone out, Poirot asked: "The girl has been with you in London, hasn't she?" "Agnes? Yes, she's the parlor-maid at home. I let the cook go--she won't go to the country anyway--and Agnes takes care of everything for me. She's going to be a good cook too. gone." Poirot nodded. He knew by heart the household arrangements at 58 Queen Charlotte Street.After the tragedy, it was carefully investigated.Mr. Morley and his sister occupied the upper two floors of the house.The bottom of the house is completely enclosed except for a section of access to the backyard.There is a talker in the backyard, and the goods sent by retailers are pulled to the top floor through a cage pulled by a wire.So the only way to get into the house is through the front door that Albert tends.This allowed the police to confirm that no outsiders had entered that morning. Both the cook and the maid had worked for Molly for several years and were of good character, so while it was theoretically possible that one of them could sneak down to the second floor and kill their master, it was never a possibility. was seriously considered.Neither was uncharacteristically flustered or disturbed when questioned, and there was apparently no reason to connect them with his death. However, when Poirot was about to leave and Agnes handed him his hat and cane, she suddenly asked him with unusual nervousness: "Does anyone know anything more about the master's death, sir? " Poirot turned to her and said: "Nothing new has been discovered yet." "Do they still think he killed himself because he got the wrong medicine?" "Yes, why are you asking that?" Agnes rubbed her apron and turned her face away.She murmured so softly that it was difficult to hear clearly: "Miss—the mistress doesn't think so." "Perhaps you agree with her?" "Me? Oh, I don't know anything, sir, I just—I just want to be sure." Hercule Poirot asked in his most gentle and genial voice: "Would it be easier for you to be able to leave the slightest doubt that he committed suicide?" "Well, yes, sir," agreed Agnes quickly, "it will." "Maybe there is some special reason?" Her startled eyes met his.She flinched back a bit. "I—I don't know anything, sir, I'm just asking." "But why should she ask?" asked Hercule Poirot to himself as he walked towards the door. He felt positively that there must be an answer to that question, but he couldn't guess it now. Still, he felt a step forward. Returning to his room, Poirot was surprised to find an unexpected visitor waiting for him. Looking from the back of the chair, there was only a bald head, and standing up was Mr. Barnes, a small, well-dressed man. Blinking as usual, he dryly offered a little apology.He explained that this visit was a return visit to Mr. Poirot. Poirot expressed his pleasure to meet Mr. Barnes. Poirot told George that if the guest did not want tea, whiskey, or soda, he would have some coffee. "The coffee is very good," said Mr. Barnes. "I think your valet makes good coffee. English servants can't do that." After a few polite greetings between the two, Mr. Barnes cleared his throat and said: "I should tell you the truth, M. Poirot. I have come here out of sheer curiosity. I think you are right The details of this bizarre case must be well known. I read from the papers that the missing Miss Sainsbury Seale had been found and that the jury court was in session and adjourned for further evidence. The cause of death is said to be a drug overdose." "Completely correct." After a moment's silence, Poirot asked: "Have you ever heard of Albert Chapman, Mr. Barnes?" "Oh, the woman's husband? The one in her room where Miss Sainsbury Seale died? An elusive figure, it seems." "But it doesn't exist at all, does it?" "Oh no," said Mr. Barnes, "there is such a man. Oh, yes, he exists--or did exist. I hear he is dead, but such rumors cannot be trusted. .” "Who is he, Mr. Barnes?" “我认为法庭上他们不会说的，非到万不得已他们不会说。他们会胡吹一通那个军火公司推销员的故事。” “那么，他真是在干秘密工作吗？” “当然是，但他不该把这告诉他妻子——完全不应该。实际上，结婚以后他就不该再干这行。这种情况是很少见的——很少见，就是说，如果你真是那种干秘密工作的人的话。” “阿尔伯特查普曼是那种人吗？” “是的，人们只知道他是QX912。使用名字是不符合规矩的。噢，我并不是说QX912是特别重要的人物——绝无此事。但因为他是那种没什么特征的家伙——人们不容易记住他的脸。所以他很有用。他被派去在欧洲上下传送消息。您知道这个差使。那种高雅正派的信件由我们在鲁里塔尼亚的大使送——而非正式的、有秘密情报的信就要由QX912——也就是阿尔伯特查普曼先生来传递。” “那么他也知道很多有价值的情报了？” “很可能什么都不知道”，巴恩斯先生兴致勃勃地讲着，“他的差事就只是不断地上下火车、轮船、飞机，而且总要有正当的理由说明为什么他要去那些地方！” “您听说他是死了？” “我听说是”，巴恩斯先生说，“但您不能把听到的一切都信以为真的。我就从来不。” 波洛目不转睛地注视着巴恩斯先生问：“您觉得他妻子发生了什么事？” “我猜不到，”巴恩斯先生说。他睁大双眼，盯着波洛，“您呢？” 波洛说：“我认为——”他打住了话头。 他缓缓地说：“这太稀里糊涂的了。” 巴恩斯先生同情地念叨：“有什么事特别让你忧心吧？” 赫克尔波洛慢慢地说：“是的，就是那些我亲眼看到的证据。” 杰普闯进波洛的起居室，把圆礼帽狠狠地往下一摔，桌子摇了起来。 他嚷道：“你究竟为什么会这么想？” “我的好杰普，我不明白你都在说些什么。” 杰普缓慢而怒气十足地说：“你怎么会认为那尸体不是塞恩斯伯里西尔小姐的？” 波洛看起来很困惑的样子。他说：“是那张脸使我百思不得其解。为什么要把一个死了的女人的脸毁掉呢？” 杰普说：“要我说，我倒希望老莫利还好好地在什么地方活着，问他就知道了。你要明白，他给人除掉，完全可能是故意的——这样他就不能提供证据了——” “要是他本人能提供点证据那当然好得多。” “利瑟兰可以做到这点。就是接莫利班的那位。他完全可以做到，此人很有教养，提供的证据是不会错的。” 第二天晚报上登出了轰动的消息。在巴特西公寓找到的那具据信是塞恩斯伯里西尔小姐的尸体，现在被确认为是阿尔伯特查普曼夫人的。 夏洛蒂皇后街58号的利瑟兰先生根据牙齿和颚骨的特征，毫不犹豫地断言尸体是查普曼夫人。这些特征在已故的莫利先生的专业记录上都有详尽的记载。 塞恩斯伯里西尔小姐的衣服在尸体上找到了，塞恩斯伯里西尔小姐的手提包也和尸体放在一起，但是，塞恩斯伯里西尔小姐本人在哪儿呢？