Chapter 25 Chapter 24 Details of Poirot's Commentary

Mrs Upjohn walked through the corridors of Yerba Meadow, almost forgetting the exciting scene she had just experienced.Now she is just a loving mother, all she wants is to find her little baby.She found herself alone in a classroom.Julia buried her head on the desk, with her tongue sticking out slightly, searching her brains for a composition. She raised her head to look around, then ran quickly and threw herself into her mother's arms. "Mother!" Then, shy at the thought of my own age, ashamed of the liberty of my feelings, I let go of my mother, and said in a deliberately casual tone—almost reproachfully:

"Did you come back too soon, mother?" "I was flying," Mrs Upjohn replied, almost apologetically, "from Ankara." "Oh," said Julia, "well—I'm glad you're here." "Yes," said Mrs Upjohn, "I am delighted, too." They looked at each other, as if a little embarrassed. "What are you doing?" asked Mrs. Upjohn, stepping closer. "I'm writing a composition assigned by Miss Rich." Julie Ji replied, "She can really come up with weird questions." "What is it this time?" asked Mrs. Upjohn.She leaned down to look.

The title is written at the top of the page.Julia scribbled a dozen or so lines below in her crooked handwriting. "Compare the attitude to murder," read Mrs Upjohn. "Well," she said somewhat uncertainly, "you can't say that this topic has no practical significance!" She read the beginning of her daughter's composition. "Macbeth," Julia writes, "is tempted to murder, and thinks about it over and over again, but there needs to be an impetus to make him do it. Once he does, he takes pleasure in murder, never guilty or afraid. Lady Macbeth is very greedy and ambitious. She thinks she can do whatever it takes to get her way. But once she does that, she finds that she doesn't like it after all."

"Your writing is not pretty enough," said Mrs. Upjohn. "I think you need a little polish, but there are certainly things that are being said." Inspector Kelsey said in a slightly complaining tone: "It doesn't matter to you, Poirot, there are many things you can say and do that we cannot, and I admit that the whole process was arranged seamlessly. To surprise her, to make her think we were staring Rich, and then Mrs. Upjohn's sudden appearance took her by surprise. Thank God she kept the automatic after killing Springer. If the bullet matches that—" "It will be agreed, my friend (the original text is in French), it will be agreed," said Poirot.

"Then we can be quite sure that she killed Springer. I expect Miss Chadwick to be worse off. But mind you, Poirot, I still don't see how she could have killed Miss Vansittart. It's impossible. She has an alibi—unless the young man Rasperth and the whole crew at the Bird's Nest join her in the plot." Poirot shook his head. "Ah, no," he said, "her alibi is perfectly convincing. She killed Miss Springer and Miss Blanche. But Miss Vansittart—" He hesitated for a moment, turning his gaze to the seated chair. Miss Bulstrode, who was listening to them, said, "Miss Vansittart was murdered by Miss Chadwick."

"Miss Chadwick?" exclaimed Miss Bulstrode and Inspector Kelsey at the same time. Poirot nodded: "I'm sure." "but why?" "I think," said Poirot, "that Miss Chadwick is too fond of Yerba Meadows..." His eyes returned to Miss Bulstrode. "I see..." said Miss Bulstrode, "yes, yes, I see... I should have known." She paused: "You mean she—" "I mean," said Poirot, "that she founded the school with you, and has always regarded Yerba Meadows as a joint venture between the two of you." "In a sense," said Miss Bulstrode.

"Exactly," said Poirot, "but only in terms of finances: when you start talking about retirement, she thinks she should be the successor." "But she's too old," objected Miss Bulstrode. "Yes," said Poirot, "she is too old and unfit to be headmaster. But she doesn't think so herself. She thinks she should be headmaster of Yerba Meadow as a matter of course when you leave office. Later, she found That's not the case. She sees that you're thinking of someone else, and you're already interested in Eleanor Vansittart. But she loves Yerba Meadows. She loves the school but doesn't love Eleanor Vansittart .I think in the end she was very Vansittart."

"She's likely to be," said Miss Bulstrode. "Yes, Eleanor Vansittart is—how should I put it—always very pompous, and always condescending about everything." Strutting. It's unbearable if a man is jealous. You mean that, don't you? Chadwick is jealous." "Yes," said Poirot, "she loves Yerba Meadows and is jealous of Eleanor Vansittart. She cannot bear Vansittart's running Yerba Meadows. Perhaps something of your conduct afterward made her think you were Maybe indecisive." "I do hesitate a little," said Miss Bulstrode, "but my indecision is not the way Chadwick expected it to be. In fact, I am thinking of someone younger than Miss Vansitage. Alone. I thought about it and said she didn't have enough experience. I remember Chadwick was with me that time."

"So she thought," said Poirot, "that she came out and walked there, just as she said. There was only one thing that was inconsistent with what she said. She was not holding a golf club. She Taking one from the pile of sandbags in the lobby. She was there fully prepared to deal with a burglar, to deal with a guy who broke into the gym for the second time. She had the sandbag in her hand to defend herself in case she was attacked. And yet what did she find? She found Eleanor Vansittart kneeling looking at a dressing-box, and she thought—it's possible, because I'm good at it," Hercule Poirot added in passing. , "Put yourself in someone else's shoes—she thought, 'If I were a robber, a thief, I'd run up behind her and knock her down.' As the thought arose, she was only vaguely aware of her own To do something, so I picked up the sandbag and hit it down. Just like that, Eleanor Vansittart was dead, and the blocking stone was removed. I think, she was a little terrified after doing it. This thing has always troubled her— —for Miss Chadwick was not, after all, a born murderer. Like some, she was driven by envy and a haunting thought. Since Eleanor Vansittart is dead, she is quite sure that she will succeed you in running Yerba Meadows. So she has not confessed her crime. Her report to the police is completely true, but concealed A major plot point was made, namely, that she herself was the murderer. But when asked about the golf club that Miss Vansittart was supposed to have brought, Miss Chadwick was very nervous about the matter. Quick answer that she brought the club there. She didn't even let you think for a moment that she used sandbags."

"Why did Ann Shaplan throw a sandbag at Miss Blanche too?" asked Miss Bulstrode. "On the one hand, she can't risk a gunshot in the school, on the other hand, she is a very smart woman. She wants to link this third murder with the second murder, while the second time she There is alibi." "I don't quite understand what Eleanor Vansittart did in the gymnasium," said Miss Bulstrode. "I think we can take a guess. Maybe she cared more about Shesta's disappearance than she should have shown outwardly. She was as disturbed as Miss Chadwick. To a certain extent, it was important to her relationship. All the more so because you put her in charge of the school — and the abduction happened while she was in charge. Also, she tried to look like she didn't care because she didn't want to face unpleasant truths."

"Looks stern," said Miss Bulstrode thoughtfully. "I doubt it sometimes." "I thought she couldn't sleep either. So I quietly ran to the gymnasium to check Shesta's locker. Maybe there could be clues to the girl's disappearance." "You seem to know everything well, M. Poirot." "That's his specialty," said Inspector Kelsey, not without envy. "What do you want Wenlin Rich to do sketches of many of our faculty members?" "I tried to test Jennifer's ability to recognize faces. It didn't take long for me to understand. Jennifer was so engrossed in her own affairs that she only occasionally glanced at outsiders, just seeing them. They are just appearances. If Miss Blanche's haircut is changed, she will not recognize this sketch. Then she will not recognize Ann Shaplan, because she is your secretary, and Jennifer is not near. opportunity to see her everywhere." "You think it's Ann Shaplan herself with the racket." "Yes. It was a woman who did it all the way. You remember the day you rang the bell to have her send a note to Julia, but the buzzer rang and no one came. You sent a schoolgirl to send Julie the answer. Got it. And this one is good at disguise. A beautiful wig, a pair of repainted eyebrows, a 'gorgeous' costume and hat. She only needs to be away from the typewriter for twenty minutes. I learned from Miss Rich's superb sketch found that a woman can easily change her appearance by changing just a few things in her appearance." "Miss Rich—I suspect..." Miss Bulstrode seemed to be thinking. Poirot glanced at Inspector Kelsey, and the Inspector said it was time for him to go. "Miss Rich?" repeated Miss Bulstrode. "Bring her here," said Poirot. "That's the best way." Here comes Eileen Rich.She was pale, with a somewhat defiant air. "You want to know," she said to Miss Bulstrode, "what did I do at Ramat?" "I think I've got a little idea," said Miss Bulstrode. "That's right," said Poirot. "Children these days know the facts of life as they are—but they have a look of innocence in their eyes." He said he had to go too, and went out quietly. "That's the way it is, isn't it?" said Miss Bulstrode.Her tone was light but serious, "She didn't know she was seeing a pregnant woman." "Yes," Erin Rich said, "that's right. I was pregnant at the time. I didn't want to give up. Work here. I dealt with it all autumn, but it gradually became apparent after that. I got a doctor's note that I was unfit to continue working, so I used the excuse that I was sick. I went to a faraway place abroad. I don't think I'll run into any acquaintances there. The baby was born when I got home - but one died. I came back to work this term and I hoped no one would know. Well you can now understand why I Said that if you offered me to cooperate I'd have to say no? It's only now that the school is such a mess that I don't think it's possible for me to accept after all." She paused, then asked in a matter-of-fact tone: "Do you want me to leave now or wait until the end of the semester?" "You can stay until the end of term," replied Miss Bulstrode, "if there is a new term (and I still hope there will be). You can come back." "Come back again?" Erin Rich asked. "You mean you still need me?" "Of course I still need you," said Miss Bulstrode. "You didn't murder anybody, did you? Didn't you get so mad about jewels that you got rich and killed? I can tell you did. What. Maybe you held back your feelings for too long. You fell in love with a guy and you ended up having a baby. I don't think you can officially get married." "There was never a question of getting married," Eileen Rich said. "I knew it and couldn't blame him." "Very well," said Miss Bulstrode. "Did you want the child?" "Yes," said Eileen Rich, "yes, I would have wanted the child." "That is the case," said Miss Bulstrode, "and now I have a point to make. I believe that, despite this love affair, your real gift is teaching. I think what your profession means to you." Far beyond the family life and family happiness of an ordinary woman." "Yes," Eileen Rich said, "I'm sure of that. I've always known that. It's what I really want to do—it's what I've dedicated my life to." "Then don't be a fool," said Miss Bulstrode, "and I have a very good suggestion for you. That is, if things turn out to be normal, let's spend two or three years working together to get the Meadow Girl To restore the school's reputation. In order to do this, your ideas will be different from mine. I will listen to your opinions, and even adopt some of them. I think you will demand a change in the style of Greenfield Girls' School Shall we take a moment?" "In some ways it is," Erin Rich said. "I don't hide my opinion. I want to emphasize recruiting students who really want to learn." "Oh," replied Miss Bulstrode, "I see, you don't like that snobbery, do you?" "Yeah," Erin replied, "I think it's going to screw things up." "There's one thing you don't understand," said Miss Bulstrode, "that a little snobbery is necessary in order to get the pupils you need. It's only a very small part, you know. Some foreign The royal family, some dignitaries, and everyone, the stupid parents of this country and other countries want to send their girls to Yerba Meadows. The result? There was a long list of applicants, so I watched These girls, interview these girls, and choose from them. You can get the students you choose. Do you understand? I choose the girls I need. I choose them very carefully, some of good character, some Brains, some purely for their ability to learn. Some I pick because they have little other opportunity, but can be made useful. You're young, Erin. You're full of ideals - all you care about is teaching , and just from an ethical perspective. Your point is correct. Students matter, but, if you want to do anything well, you have to know that you have to be a good dealer. Thoughts are not the same as anything else Same, we have to sell it. In order to keep Fangcaodi Girls' School going, we have to be more tactful in handling things in the future. I have to catch some people, some past graduates, and use hard and soft tactics to get them to send their daughters to this school. Then Others will come. You let me do my job, and then you can do what you want. Yerba Meadows will go on, and it will be a good school." "It will be one of the best schools in the UK." Eileen Rich said enthusiastically. "Great," said Miss Bulstrode. "Irene, I'm going. Get your hair done. You can't seem to get your bun right. Now," was her tone now. Changed, "I'm going to see Chadwick." She went in and walked over to the bed.Chadwick lay still, pale.There was no blood on her face, and she looked dying.A policeman sat nearby with a notebook, and Miss Johnson sat on the other side of the bed.She looked at Miss Bulstrode and shook her head slightly. "Hullo, Chardy," said Miss Burroughs to her, and shook her bony hands.Miss Chadwick's eyes opened. "I want to tell you," she said, "Honoria—it's me—it's me." "Yes, my dear, I know," said Miss Bulstrode. "Jealousy," said Chadwick, "I think—" "I know," said Miss Bulstrode. Tears streamed slowly down Miss Chadwick's cheeks: "It's horrible...I didn't want to—I don't know how I even did it." "Don't think about it any more," said Miss Bulstrode. "But I can't—you'll never—I'll never forgive myself—" Miss Bulstrode squeezed the other's hand more tightly. "Listen, dear," she said, "you saved my life, you know, my life and the life of that good woman, Mrs Upjohn. It's worth it, isn't it?" "I just hope," said Miss Chadwick, "that I could lay down my life for both of you. That would make things right..." Miss Bulstrode watched her with great pity.Miss Chadwick took a deep breath, smiled, and went on.Tilting his head slightly to one side, he died. "You gave your life, my dear," murmured Miss Bulstrode softly. "I hope you understand that—now."

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