Chapter 10 Chapter Ten Nick's Secret

It was broad daylight when I awoke. Poirot was still sitting where he had been the night before, and in the same position.But the expression on his face was different, and his eyes had that familiar green glow, like a cat's. I barely sat up straight, feeling stiff and uncomfortable.At my age, sleeping in a chair is really not advisable.It had at least one consequence: waking up without any comforting sweetness—like waking up from a night's sleep in bed.My mind is not as tense as it was last night before bed. "Poirot!" I cried: "Have you come up with something?"

He nodded, leaned forward, tapped the table in front of him with his fingers, and said: "Hastings, answer me three questions: Why hasn't Miss Nick been sleeping well lately? Why has she bought a black evening gown when she never wears black? Why did she say last night 'What am I missing now? Just relief for me?'" I was stunned.What could be the point of these questions? "Answer these questions, Hastings, answer them." "Okay. The first question can be answered like this: She said that she has been worried recently, so she can't sleep well."

"Yes. What is she worried about?" "As for the second question, black clothes—well, everybody likes a change." "You are a married man, but you don't understand women's psychology at all. Once a woman decides that a certain color is not suitable for her, she will never wear clothes of this color again." "Last question—it's only natural to say something like that when you're frightened." "No, my friend, not naturally. It is natural to be half terrified of my cousin's tragic death, and to blame myself for such a misfortune befalling others. But to say such things in such a tone, no, Not natural. She speaks of life with distaste, and not so long ago life was dear to her--meaning the prospect of happiness. She had never been world-weary before that. She found everything amusing before. , using everything for fun. Later, when she realized that her life was seriously threatened, this carefree spirit broke down, and the fear was rightfully created. Note that the reason for her fear, Because life was sweet to her and worth lingering on. She longed to live it. Tired of life? No, never, not even before dinner yesterday. Here we are, Hastings It was instructive to discover a psychological change. What made her look at life change?"

"It was the death of her cousin." "No, no, the death of her cousin made her accidentally leak the secret. This view of life may have changed before then. What can cause this change?" "I can't say anything." "Think about it, Hastings, and use your brains." "I really can't think of it." "When was the last time we had a chance to see her - before the tragedy -?" "At supper time, I think." "Exactly. Afterwards we only saw her greet guests with dignity. What happened when supper was over?" "She's on the phone." I said while thinking.

"Well, you got to the point at last. She went on the phone, and it took a long time, at least twenty minutes. It seemed a little too long for a phone call. Who was talking to her? What did they say? Did she really call? That remains to be ascertained, Hastings. Just find out what happened in those twenty minutes, and I'm sure we'll have our most crucial lead." "Do you think so?" "Of course, Hastings, I've been telling you that there are things that Nick hasn't told us. She doesn't think those things are relevant to the case, but I, Hercule Poirot, can judge. I always feel that I There must be something important missing from the facts we have grasped. There must be another fact that we still do not know. It is precisely because of this that I am still bumping around in Wuliwu today. It is also precisely because I still cannot see through this fact. Layers of fog only convinced me that the fact that I hadn't grasped was the key to the case. I can't be mistaken, Hastings. I have to know the answers to those three questions, and then I can see that... ..."

"Okay," I said, stretching my stiff arms, "I guess I'm going to shave and take a shower." I feel better after taking a shower and changing into my normal clothes.All the soreness and unhappiness from a bad night's sleep melted away.I went to the breakfast table, thinking that a cup of hot coffee would make me fully recovered. I glanced at the paper, and there was hardly anything worth reading in it except a message that Michael Seton's death had been confirmed.Alas, the brave lad is dead.I wondered in my heart whether there would be such a sensational headline on the front page of the newspaper tomorrow:

Mysterious tragedy! ——The beauty of the fireworks show died. Just after breakfast, Frederica Rice came to my table.She wore a black crepe silk blouse with soft pleats and a white collar, which looked gorgeous. "I want to see M. Poirot, Captain Hastings. Do you know he's up?" "I'll take you upstairs now," I said. "We'll see him in the living room." "thanks." "I hope," I said, as we left the restaurant together, "that your sleep has not been disturbed, has it?" "It's frightening," she said slowly, "but, of course, I don't know that poor girl very well, and I don't have the same relationship with her as I do with Nick."

"I suppose you haven't seen that girl before?" "Saw it once, in Scarborough. She came to lunch with Nick." "It's such a shock to her parents," I said. "too terrifying." But the tone of her voice showed that she felt that the matter had nothing to do with her.I thought in private that this lady is selfish, and she doesn't care about anything as long as it doesn't concern her. Poirot, who had finished his breakfast and was sitting reading the paper, rose to greet Frederica with his Gallic politeness. "Ma'am," said he, "is very pleased and very welcome!"

As he spoke, he dragged a chair over for her. She thanked him and sat down with a smile, her arms resting on the armrests.She didn't rush to speak, she just sat there very straight, looking straight ahead.This silence is very uncomfortable.Then she finally spoke. "Mr. Poirot, I think that the unfortunate incident that happened last night was the same as before. I mean that it was Nick who was the murderer." "Ma'am, there is no doubt about that." Frederica frowned and said: "Nick is able to avoid disaster every time, God is so blessed!" I could hear something in her words, but what was it?

"They say misfortune and fortune are always in balance, and they go round and round." Poirot has a set of clichés for dealing with women, which sounds very philosophical and seems to have a profound meaning, but in fact it is empty and just a delaying strategy. "Possibly. It's useless to fight against fate." There was nothing but weariness in her voice now.Then she went on to say: "I must ask your pardon, M. Poirot, and Nick. I did not believe all this until last night. It never occurred to me until then that the danger—could be real." "Is it so, ma'am?"

"I can see now that everything is going to be scrutinized, and everyone around Nick is going to be the object of suspicion. Ridiculous, but true. Am I right, M. Poirot?" "You are extremely clever, madam." "You asked me some questions about Tavistock that day, M. Poirot. Since you will find out sooner or later, I had better tell you now. I am not in Tavistock." "Not here, ma'am?" "Mr. Lazarus and I drove up here last Monday. We don't want to attract attention, and we live in a little place called Shelacombe." "I think it's about seven miles from here, ma'am?" "Probably so." The voice was still so indifferent. "May I ask a very rude question, ma'am?" "What time is it now, can you still take care of these!" "Ma'am, you may be right. How long have you been friends with Lazarus, then?" "I met him half a year ago." "You're--interesting in him, ma'am?" Frederica shrugged. "He's—very rich." "Oh!" cried Poirot, "that's not a very pleasant thing to say." She seemed to find it interesting: "It's better for me to say it myself than for you." "Well, of course it always is. May I repeat, ma'am, you are extremely clever." "You're probably going to give me a certificate of intelligence soon," said Frederica, standing up. "Is there nothing else to tell me, ma'am?" "I don't think so. I'm going to take some flowers to see Nick." "Oh, how thoughtful you are. Thank you, ma'am, for your frankness." She stared at him with piercing eyes, hesitated to speak, turned and walked towards the door.She gave me a faint smile when I opened the door for her. Seeing her go, Poirot said: "She is so clever, but Hercule Poirot also has a lot of brains!" "what do you mean?" "This is a great way for her to force me to accept the concept of 'Lazarus is rich'!" "I gotta say, this Frederick is making me sick to the point where he's flirting with Lazarus because he's rich." "My dear, you are always putting the right point in the wrong place. Now it is not a question of morality. The question is: If Mrs. Rice has a faithful and rich woman who can satisfy all her desires Boyfriend, she doesn't have to murder her best girlfriend for a little money!" "Oh!" I suddenly realized. "It's 'Oh!'" "Why don't you prevent her from going to the rest house." "Why should I interfere? Is it Hercule Poirot who won't let Miss Nick see her friends? What a stupid idea! It's the doctors and nurses who won't let Nick see, those nasty nurses who only know the rules and regulations." , the nurse who tells you 'this is what the doctor ordered' all the time!" "Aren't you afraid they might let her in? Nick might insist on seeing her." "My dear Hastings, no one can get in but you and me. We're going to see Nick now, as soon as possible." The living room door was knocked open.George Challenger burst in furiously. "Well, Monsieur Poirot," he said, "what do you mean? I called up to that damned infirmary where Nick lives to inquire about her condition, and asked them when I could see her, and they said The doctor won't let anyone see Nick. I want to know what that means. Come on, did you order it, or did Nick really get sick with fright?" "Let me tell you, sir, I have no business in the rest home. I dare not. Why don't you call up and ask the doctor? What's his name? Oh, it's Graham." "I called him. He said she was recovering as well as expected. Old tune, but I know it well. My uncle is a doctor, practiced in Harley Street, neurologist, psychoanalyst Home, and many other titles. I know all the ways of keeping friends and relatives away. I don't believe that Nick's health prevents her from visiting. I believe it's you, M. Poirot!" Poirot smiled benignly at him, and I noticed that he had always been particularly tolerant of lovers in love. "Now listen to me, my friend," said he, "if one can get in, the rest can't be stopped. Do you understand me? Either let them all in, or let none of them in." .We're concerned about Nick's safety, you and me, aren't we? Yes! Then of course you can see that no one must be allowed in." "I see," said Challenger slowly, "but..." "Okay, let's not say more, and even forget everything we just said. Be cautious, absolutely cautious, this is what we need especially at the moment." "I can keep my mouth shut," said the sailor softly.He turned and walked to the door, stopped again and said: "Flowers can't be banned, right? As long as they're not white." Poirot smiled. As the door closed behind Challenger, Poirot said: "Now that Challenger, Mrs. Rice, and possibly Lazarus are all swarming into the flower shop, let's drive quietly to the sanatorium." "To find out the answers to those three questions?" "Yes, we're going to ask, although in fact I already know." "What?" I exclaimed. "yes." "When did you come up with it?" "While I was eating breakfast, Hastings, the answer found itself." "tell me." "No, let you hear the answer from the young lady with your own ears." Then, to distract me, he shoved an open letter in front of me.It was sent by the expert Poirot invited to appraise the portrait of old Nick Buckley, and it contained an appraisal report.The report stated with certainty that the painting was worth twenty pounds at most. "There, a doubt has been cleared up," said Poirot. "There are no mice in this hole," I said, for I remembered Poirot saying that in such cases in the past. "Oh, you remember that! Yes, as you say, there are no rats in this hole. A picture is only worth twenty pounds and Lazarus is asking for fifty. This shrewd-looking young man's What bad judgment! But, ah, we must set off to our business." The rest house was situated on a hill high above the bay.A waiter in white led us into a small reception room downstairs, and immediately a brisk and quick nurse came.She recognized Poirot immediately.It was evident that she had received instructions from Dr. Graham, who had given him a detailed description of the detective's appearance.At this time she was smiling. "Miss Buckley had a good night's sleep," she said. "Come with me." We met Nick in a sunny and cheerful room.She lay on a narrow iron bed like a tired child.Her face was very pale, but her eyes were suspiciously red, and she looked listless. "It's good of you to come," she said unemotionally. Poirot took her delicate hand between his own, and said: "Be brave, madam, it is always good to be alive." These words startled her.She studied Poirot's face. "Oh," she said, "oh—" "Will you now tell me, miss, what has been making you so sad? Or shall I guess, and express my deepest sympathy?" She blushed. "You know, ah, it doesn't matter who knows now, everything has become a passing cloud, and I can't see him anymore." She burst into tears. "Be brave, miss." "Courage, I don't have any. It's all gone in the last few weeks. I've been hoping, until recently wishful thinking." I stood there in a daze, not understanding anything. "Look at poor Hastings," said Poirot, "he doesn't understand a word of what we're saying." Her eclipsed eyes met mine inexplicably. "Michael Seton, the pilot," said Nick, "I was engaged to him, and he died."