Chapter 12 Chapter 12 Ellen

Poirot said nothing when he emerged from the infirmary.When we were outside, he grabbed my arm and said: "Well, Hastings? See now? Hey, the veil is drawn! I'm right, I'm right! I've been saying there's one link missing in our chain--the crucial one. Ring. Without it, the whole incident would be inexplicable." The mix of disappointment and ecstasy in his voice completely baffled me.I don't see anything epoch-making happening. "This fact has always existed, and I did not discover it in time. But how? Knowing that there is an important unknown--I am not mistaken--but what the unknown is, it is difficult to find out. gone."

"You mean that Nick's engagement to Michael has a direct bearing on the case?" "Can't you see it?" "I can't see it." "Can't see it? How strange! You know, it provides what we've been looking for--a motive, a very obvious motive that is unknown!" "I may be being too stubborn, but I really don't see it. Do you mean something like jealousy?" "Envy? No, no, no. This motive is commonplace in the judiciary. The best way to lure people to do evil is to seek money." I watch him.He calmed down and explained to me:

"Listen, my friend. It is only a week since Sir Matthew Seton died. The Sir is a millionaire, one of the richest men in the British Isles." "Yeah, but—" "Don't worry, let's take it one step at a time. He adores his nephew, so we can point to the inevitable fact that he will bequeath a very considerable fortune to this nephew." "but……" "Of course, part of that estate will be donated to the bird conservation cause he loves, but most of the property will go to Michael Seton. The reports of Michael's disappearance started last Tuesday, and the murder of Miss Nick began on Wednesday. Yes. Let's say, Hastings, that Michael Seton made a will before he took off, where he left everything to his one and only fiancée."

"It's just your speculation." "Yes, it's just speculation, but it can't be wrong. If it weren't for that, what happened would be an unsolvable equation. It's not a small inheritance, you know. It's an astonishingly large bet!" I was silent for a moment, thinking carefully in my heart.I thought Poirot was rash in drawing such a conclusion, but I also had a vague feeling that he had grasped the crucial facts.His excellent eyesight has been tried and tested and has impressed me in the past years.However, I still feel that there are many doubts that still need to be clarified.

"What if no one ever knew about their engagement?" I argued. "Ha! Someone must have known. There's never a secret of this kind of thing. If not known, one can guess. Mrs. Rice was suspicious--Miss Nick said it. And she may have confirmed hers." Suspect." "How did you prove it?" "Conceive it this way: Michael Seton must have had letters to Miss Nick, as they have been engaged for some time. Miss Nick, who has always been careless, would bother to keep these letters locked up in a particularly secret place in a safe place? I can't believe it." I'm sure she's locked things with locks. It's all too easy for Mrs. Rice to confirm her suspicions."

"Does Frederica Rice know the contents of her friend's will?" "That goes without saying. Ah, well, now it's narrowed down. Do you remember the list I made from one to ten? There are now only two people left on the list. I've ruled out the servants, ruled out Lieutenant-Colonel Challenger--although he drove an hour and a half from Plymouth to the thirty miles, and I also ruled out Mr. Lazarus, who paid fifty pounds for a painting Twenty quid worth of paintings. That's interesting for a man in his line of business. I've also ruled out those two good-hearted Australians. There's only two left."

"One is Frederica Rice," I said slowly, seeing her pale face, fair hair, and wicker figure again. "Yes, she is obvious. No matter how irregular the wording of Nick's will, she is the heir to all chattels. Everything but the Cliff House will go to her. If she died last night Not Miss Magee but Miss Nick, and Mrs. Rice is a rich woman today." "I just can't believe it." "You mean you don't believe a girl so delicate and delicate could kill someone? Not to mention you, even a jury sometimes has a jury who doesn't know much about it. Still. You may be right, because there is another person who is also suspicious."

"Who?" "Charles Weiss." "But he can only get the house." "Yes, but he probably doesn't know it. Did he draw up Nick's will? I don't think so. Because if he had done it, it would have been kept by him instead of Nick saying 'Mr. Where does that come from. So you see, Hastings, he may know nothing about the will, and even think she never made one. So, in the absence of a will, he He is the closest relative and can inherit all the property left by Nick." "Yes," I said, "I now think this man is more likely than Mrs. Rice to be the murderer."

"It's because of your tenderness, Hastings. Sinister lawyers are a familiar figure in fiction. Wes is a lawyer, and with his stoic face, you'd think he did it. In some respects, of course, he is more suspicious than Mrs. Rice. He knows where the pistol is more easily than she does, and is more like a man who can use such a weapon." "And pushing that rock off the cliff." "Yes, possible. Although I said anyone could do it with a lever. Besides, the rock rolled at the wrong time and didn't hurt Nick. It looked like a woman did it. But the car It seems like a man's idea to screw up the brakes on the car--although many women are good at handling machines these days. But on the other hand, if we doubt Mr. Weiss, there are one or two places where It doesn't make sense."

"For example—" "He doesn't have the opportunity of hearing about Miss Nick's engagement like Mrs. Rice does. Besides, he conducts his business with aplomb." "So what about being calm?" "Setton's death was not confirmed until yesterday at supper. Until then, Seton's death was mere speculation. It's not like a professional lawyer to act recklessly without any certainty." "Yes," I said, "women are different. They are rash and reckless in their emotions." "good." "It's a fluke that Nick is still alive and well today."

Suddenly I remembered the strange tone in which Frederica said, "Nick escapes disaster every time, God is so blessed," and I shivered. "Yes," said Poirot in a low voice, "I don't know why—I'm ashamed." "It's fate." I murmured. "Ah, my friend, I do not blame God for the faults of man. I say, when you say your prayers on a Sunday morning, though you don't mean to, there is always in your voice Dissatisfied, as if God killed Miss Magee, didn't he?" "Really, Poirot!" "But, my friend, I don't look up to the sky and sigh, and say, 'Since God has arranged everything, I just need to do nothing'. Because I think that 'I was born to be useful', God sent me into this world, It was me who was asked to interfere in world affairs. This is my bounden duty." We climbed to the top of the mountain along the "zigzag" path and walked into the garden of the cliff villa. "Ah," said Poirot, "it's a steep road, and I'm sweating so hard that my beard is hanging down. Where did I say that? Oh, yes, I'm going to interfere in world affairs, and always Standing with the innocent and the victim. Right now I'm with Miss Nick because she's a victim. And I'm with Miss Magee because she was killed innocently." "You pointed the spear at Frederica Rice and Charles Weiss." "No, no, Hastings, I'm not prejudiced. I'm just saying that it looks like one of the two might be up to something. Why, you see." We walked out onto the grass in front of the house.A long-faced man who looked passably stupid was pushing a lawn mower.His eyes were as dull as those of a dead fish.Beside him was a boy of about ten years old, ugly but quite intelligent. It suddenly occurred to me that we didn't seem to hear the sound of the lawn mower just now. I thought maybe he was too tired to rest for a while, and then he heard our voices and hurriedly started working again. "Good morning," said Poirot. "Good morning, sir." "I suppose you are the gardener, husband of the housekeeper's wife?" "He's my father," said the boy. "That's right, sir," said the gardener. "I suppose you are a foreign gentleman, a detective? Have you got any news from our young mistress?" "I just came from her. She slept very well at night." "The police were here just now," said the boy. "Here, right there on the steps. That's where the lady was killed yesterday. I've seen a pig butcher before, haven't I, papa?" "Oh," said his father expressionlessly. "Papa used to butcher hogs when he worked on the farm, didn't he, Papa? I've seen hogs butchered, and that was fun." "Children always like to watch pigs being butchered," said the father, as if reciting an undeniable truth of nature. "The lady was shot with a pistol," went on the boy. "She wasn't slit like a pig, no." We headed for the house, and thank God we managed to get away from the cruel and ominous boy. Poirot rang the bell as he entered the drawing-room.Ellen answered the call, dressed in neat black.She was not surprised to see us. Poirot told her that we had Nick's permission to inspect the house. "Very good, sir." "Have the police been here?" "They say they've looked over, sir. They've been busy in the gardens all morning. I don't know if they've found anything." She was about to go away when Poirot called her back again. "Were you very surprised last night when you heard that Miss Buckley had been shot?" "Yes, sir, I'm frightened. Miss Buckley's a good girl, sir. I can't see how she could have been murdered." "You wouldn't be so frightened if it had been someone else killed, would you?" "What do you mean, sir?" I said, "When I came in on the phone last night you immediately asked if someone had an accident. Are you waiting for this to happen?" She was silent for a while, fiddling with the corner of her clothes with her fingers.She shook her head and said softly, "Gentlemen, you won't understand." "No, no," said Poirot, "I will understand. I can understand whatever you say." She gave him a suspicious look, but finally believed him. "You know, sir," she said, "it's not a nice house." I was a little surprised to hear that, so I glanced at her contemptuously.Poirot seemed to think that this statement made sense. "You mean it's an old, old house?" "No, sir, it's not a nice house." "Have you been here long?" "Six years, sir, but I have been a kitchen maid here since I was a girl." Poirot watched her attentively. "In an old house," he said, "sometimes there is always a cold evil." "Yes, sir," said Ellen eagerly, "an evil, and evil thoughts and actions, which seem to have dried something rotten in the house, which can neither be found nor removed; it is A feeling, everywhere. I knew something was going to happen one day." "Yeah, it turns out you were right." "Yes, sir." There was a hidden contentment in her voice—her sombre prophecy had come true this time. "But you didn't expect it to happen to Miss Magee." "It is true, sir, that no one hated her—I am quite sure of that." I felt that there was a thread buried in these words, and I hoped Poirot would follow them, but to my great disappointment he changed the subject. "You didn't hear the gunfire?" "The fireworks were going off at that time, and it was very noisy." "You didn't go out to see?" "No, I haven't cleaned up the mess on the dinner table yet." "Is that improvised footman doing you a favour?" "No, sir, he went to the garden to watch the fireworks." "But you didn't go." "Yes, sir." "why?" "I gotta get the job done." "Aren't you interested in fireworks?" "No, sir, it's not that I'm not interested, but you see, the fireworks are going to go on for two nights, and William and I are off tonight, and we're going to town and watch the fireworks." "I see. You heard Miss Magee looking around for her coat, but couldn't find it?" "I heard Miss Nick running upstairs, sir, and Miss Buckley yelling at Nick down in the hall that she couldn't find something. I heard her say: 'Well—I'll use you That shawl...'" "I'm sorry," interrupted Poirot, "but you didn't help her find that coat, or fetch it for her in the car?" "I have my own business to do, sir." "Yes, neither of the ladies asked for your help, because they thought you were out watching the fireworks." "Yes, sir." "So, in the past few years, have you watched fireworks outside every year?" Her cheeks flushed suddenly. "I don't know what you mean, sir; there's nothing forbidding us to go to the garden! This year I don't want to see it, but I prefer to go to bed when my work is done. That's my freedom, I think." "Yeah, yeah, I didn't mean to offend you, of course you can do as you please. It's a lot of fun for a change." He took a breath, and went on: "There is one more thing I wonder if you can help us. This is an old house. Do you know if there is a dark room in this house?" "Well, there's a sliding panel—in this room, I remember seeing it before—I used to be a maid in this house when I was a girl—only I can't remember where it is now Yes. Maybe in the study? I really can't say." "Can a person hide in it?" "No, sir, it won't fit. It's just an alcove, about a foot square." "Oh, that's not what I mean at all." She blushed again. "If you thought I was hiding somewhere - no! I heard Nick running downstairs and out of the house and she yelled, I came here to see if anything happened, that's it, I swear on the Bible , you can swear!"