Chapter 10 chapter Ten

Poirot looked up at the Elm Primary School, and couldn't help but praise in his heart. He figured it might be a secretary who invited him in and led him into the headmaster's study.The Headmaster, Miss Emlyn, stood up from the table to welcome him. "I have known you for a long time, M. Poirot. It is a pleasure to meet you." "You are too polite," said Poirot. "I heard about you from an old friend, Miss Bulstrode, former headmaster of Turfbad Secondary School. Perhaps you remember Miss Bulstrode?" "Who could forget her, she was a wonderful character."

"Yes," Miss Emlyn said, "it was she who made Caopingba Middle School famous." She sighed slightly and said, "The school has changed a little now, with different purposes and methods, but it is still a very distinctive school." , a school that is both progressive and traditional. Oh yes, don't keep talking about the old days. Needless to say, you came to me about the death of Joyce Reynolds. I don't know if you are right I don't think you are usually responsible for such things. You probably know her or her family?" "No," replied Poirot, "I am an old friend. At the invitation of Mrs. Ariadley Oliver, she stayed here for a few days and attended the party that day."

"Her book is very entertaining," Miss Emlyn said. "I've also met her once or twice, oh, so it's much easier to discuss. Since there is no personal emotion in it, we will Let’s get straight to the point, the fact that this kind of thing happened is terrible, and it’s impossible for this kind of thing to happen. The children involved are all half-grown, and they can’t be classified into any special type, which shows that there is something wrong with the murderer’s mental state. You said Woolen cloth?" "No," replied Poirot, "I think it was a murder, just like any other murder, with a motive, perhaps a base one."

"Indeed. So why?" "Because of what Joyce said, I heard she didn't say it at the party, but earlier in the day when some of the older kids and helpers were helping to prepare. She was declaring loudly that she had witnessed a murder. " "Does anyone believe her?" "In general, no one believed it." "Probably so. Joyce, to tell you frankly, M. Poirot, we don't want to be confused by unnecessary sentimentality—she was a very ordinary child, neither too stupid nor too bright. Frankly. I mean, she's completely out of control and lying all the time, and I'm not saying she's particularly cunning or dishonest, she's not avoiding revenge on purpose, and she doesn't care if anyone can see it, she's just bragging about stuff that never happened In order to calm down those friends who listened to her bragging, of course, they gradually did not believe her strange stories."

"You mean she's bragging about witnessing a murder, trying to get somebody's interest by making it look great?" "Yes, and no doubt she wanted the attention of Ariadrey Oliver..." "It seems to you that Joyce did not witness any murder at all?" "I highly doubt it." "You mean she made it all up?" "Neither. It's also possible that she actually witnessed a car accident, or that someone was hit by a ball on the golf course - and she could embellish it to make it a shocking event, a premeditated one. Murder." "So the only thing we know for sure is that the murderer was at the Halloween party."

"Of course," Miss Emlyn said calmly, "of course, logically speaking, it should be so, what do you think?" "Who do you think will be the murderer?" "This is a very sensitive question," Miss Emlyn replied, "how should I put it, most of the children attending the party are between nine and fifteen years old, I think they are all or have been students of our school, I should know something about them. Also, know something about their family background." "I heard that a teacher in your school was strangled to death a year or two ago, but the murderer has not been found"

"Do you mean Janet, White? A sentimental girl of about twenty-four, as far as I know, she goes out alone, perhaps arranged for a date with some young man, she is quite attractive, and pursues her." There are many men. The murderer has not been found out. The police questioned many young people and took various methods to investigate, but they could not find any evidence to prosecute any of them. From their point of view, they are very dissatisfied. It should be said, from my perspective It is true from a point of view.” "You share my principles, and we both hold a firm objection to murder."

Miss Emlyn stared at Poirot for a while, her expression didn't change at all, but Poirot felt that she was looking at him carefully and weighing something in her heart. "What you say is exactly what I want," she said. "From what I've seen in the newspapers, or what I've heard, it seems that murder has gradually become a factual acquiescence to a large part of the population." She was silent for a while, and Poirot said nothing.He thought she was thinking about what to do next. She stood up and rang the bell. "I think," she said, "you'd better talk to Miss Whittaker."

About five minutes after Miss Emlyn went out, the door opened, and a woman of about forty walked in.Her auburn hair was cropped short, and she walked with a swift stride. "M. Poirot?" she said. "Can I help you? Miss Emlyn seems to think I can." "If Miss Emlyn thinks so, then you will undoubtedly be able to help me. I fully believe her words." "Do you know her well?" "I just saw her for the first time this afternoon." "But as soon as you see her like old friends, you immediately trust her completely." "I hope you will say that I have good eyesight."

Elizabeth, Whittaker sighed softly. "Well, yes, you really read the right person. I guess it's about Joyce, Reynolds' death. I don't know how you got involved in this matter. Was it the police?" She was a little confused Believe me, I shook my head slightly. "No, it wasn't through the police, it was a private request from a friend." She sat down, pushing her chair back so she could face him. "Very well. What do you want to know?" "I don't think it's necessary to go into details, to waste time asking frivolous questions. That's pretty much all I should know about what happened at the party that night, isn't it?"

"right." "Are you at the party too?" "I participated." She recalled for a moment, "The party was well organized. It was well organized. Counting all kinds of helpers, there were about 30 people in total. There were children-teenagers-adults-and some were doing it on the sidelines. Someone who cleans, prepares meals and whatnot." "Did you take part in the preparations that morning or afternoon?" "There really isn't much to help. Mrs. Drake is very competent and can get all the preparations done with little help. What's really needed is a little help with the housework." "I see, but are you invited to the party?" "Naturally." "What happened?" "No doubt you've already figured out the proceedings of the party. You want to ask me if I've noticed anything, or if there's anything I think is important? You know, I don't want to waste your time." "I'm sure you're not wasting my time. Well, Miss Whittaker, tell me briefly." "Everything went according to plan that night, the last activity was essentially a Christmas game rather than a Hallow's Eve game of chestnuts from the fire, which was lighting a plate of raisins with brandy poured on them and everyone gathered around to take the raisins out of the fire There was a lot of exclamation and laughter, the raisins were burning, and everyone was cheering. After a while, the room became very hot. I walked out and stood in the hall, and at this moment I saw Mrs. Drake coming out of the toilet Standing on the stairs on the second floor, she was holding a large bottle of autumn red leaves and flowers. She stopped at the corner of the stairs for a while before coming down. She looked down the stairs, not towards me, she was looking at the other end of the hall , there is a door leading to the study room, directly opposite to the door leading to the dining room. She stared there, and paused for a while before getting off her coat. She gently turned the angle of the vase with her hands, which seemed to be very heavy and heavy. It took a lot of effort, I guess it must be filled with water. She carefully adjusted the position of the vase so that one hand was stable, and the other hand was holding the bend of the stairs down. She stood there for a while, her eyes still not looking at her hand instead of the vase in the hall, she stared into the hall. She moved suddenly—I thought it must have been a surprise—yes, she must have been startled by something, and the vase fell to the floor with a trembling hand. The water splashed all over her and the vase rolled down the hall downstairs and shattered all over the floor." "I see," said Poirot.He watched her and was silent for a moment.He noticed that her eyes were very alert, and she seemed very intelligent, as if asking if she should comment on what she said. "What do you think happened to frighten her?" "In retrospect, I think she saw something." "What do you think she saw," repeated Poirot, "what could it be?" "I said her eyes were on the study door, and I wondered if she might have seen the door open, or the handle turned, or more than that. Maybe she saw someone open it. She was about to come out the door, and she might have seen a rather unexpected person." "Did you look there too?" "No, I just stared up at Mrs. Drake on the stairs." "Do you really think she saw something that startled her?" "Yes, perhaps it was only the door that opened. A person, someone who had somehow sneaked into the courtyard, entered through the door, and for a moment she trembled in her hand clutching the vase, which was heavy with water and flowers. It fell right away." "Did you see anyone coming out of the door?" "No, I didn't look that way. I don't think anyone really came out of the door into the hall, but probably retreated back into the study." "What's next for Mrs. Drake?" "She gave an annoyed scream and came down the stairs and said to me: 'Look what I've done! I've made a mess!' She kicked the pieces aside and I helped her sweep them into a pile, a pile In the corner. It was impossible to clean thoroughly then. The children began to come out of the fire room. I got a glass-cloth and gave it; she wiped the water, and soon the party was over." "Didn't Mrs. Drake explain why she was frightened, or what caused her fright?" "No. Not a word." "And you think she's really frightened." "Monsieur Poirot, do you think that I am making too much of a trivial matter?" "No," replied Poirot, "it never occurred to me that I had only seen Mrs. Drake once." He went on thoughtfully, "with my friend Mrs. Oliver. When we visited her together—that is, when we inspected the crime scene. During this short meeting, I observed that she did not seem to be a woman who is easily intimidated. Do you agree with me? " "That's true. That's why I've been wondering." "Didn't you ask me a question then?" "I have no reason to do it at all. If you are a guest in a house, and the hostess has the misfortune to break one of her best glass vases, as a guest, if you ask how you got it like this, it seems that you can't do it." Not very polite, is it? I'm sure she'd throw a fit if she was called clumsy." "You just said, and then the party was over. The children followed their mothers or friends, and Joyce was gone. We know that Joyce died in the study. Is it possible that this happened, A man was about to come out of the study when he heard voices in the hall, shut the door again, and then sneaked away while people were saying goodbye, putting on coats, etc. in the hall? Miss Whittaker, I think You don't have time to recall the scene until you find the body, right?" "Yes," said Miss Whittaker, rising. "I'm afraid that's all I can tell you, and even that is of little importance." "No, it's worth noting. Anything worth noting is worth remembering. By the way, I want to ask you a question, actually two questions." Elizabeth Whitaker took her seat again. "Speak," she replied, "ask if you want." "Do you clearly remember the sequence of the games?" "Supposedly," Elizabeth Whitaker recalled for a moment. "First there was the broom contest, decorated brooms, with three or four different little prizes. Then there was the balloon contest, which was hit by hand or with a paddle." Playing. Playing to keep the children alive. Then the girls went into a hut to play mirror game, they held a small mirror, and the boy's face was reflected in the mirror." "How did this happen?" "Oh, it's very simple. The door cabinet is removed, and different faces look inside, and the mirrors of the girls are naturally different." "Do the girls know who they see in the mirror?" "I guess some people know and some don't. The boys have pre-makeup, plus some props, such as masks, wigs, beards, and beards, plus paint effects, which is very interesting. Most The boys and the girls already knew each other, and maybe a couple of strangers came along, and they giggled happily anyway." Miss Whittaker said, looking a little contemptuous, "then there was an obstacle course, and then a cup filled The flour is compacted, turned upside down, and a sixpence piece is placed on top, and each man cuts off a piece of pasta, and if it all collapses, that person is eliminated from the game, and the others continue until the end. One person gets the coin, and after that there is dancing and eating. The final climax is playing the game of chestnuts in the fire." "When was the last time you saw Joyce?" "I don't know," replied Elizabeth Whittaker, "I don't know her very well, she wasn't in my class, she wasn't a very interesting kid, so I didn't pay much attention to her, but I remember she cut the powder. Damn, she was so stupid, she was eliminated in one fell swoop, it seems that at least she was alive then-but it was still early." "Didn't you see who she went into the study with?" "Of course not. If I had seen it, I would have told you. I must know that at least it was important." "Well," said Poirot, "the second question, or a series of questions, is how long have you been at this school?" "It will be six years in the fall." "You teach—?" "Mathematics and Latin." "Do you remember a girl who taught here two years ago? Her name is Janet White." Elizabeth Whittaker, stunned, leaned back and sat down again. "But—surely that has nothing to do with it?" "It may be," said Poirot. "How? What does it matter?" Educational news travels less quickly than country gossip, Poirot thought to himself. "Witnesses say that Joyce said she witnessed a murder some years ago. Do you think it could have been Janet White's death? How did Janet White die?" "She was strangled to death on the way home from school one night." "one person?" "Probably not." "Not with Nora, Ambrose?" "Do you know what Nora, Ambrose?" "I don't know yet," said Poirot, "but I want to know what Janet and White and Nora Ambrose were like?" "Too frivolous," Elizabeth Whittaker said, "but they are not quite the same. How could Joyce have seen such a thing, and how could he understand it? It happened on a small road not far from the stone mine forest." Yes, she was only eleven or twelve years old at the time." "Who has a boyfriend?" asked Poirot. "Nora or Janet?" "Don't dig through these old sesame seeds and rotten millet." "The old shadow grows," said Poirot. "We know from life that this statement is true. Where is Ambrose now, Nora?" "She left school to teach in the North of England—of course she was very disturbed. They were—very good." "The police have not been able to solve the case?" Miss Whitaker shook her head. She got up and looked at her watch. "I have to go." "Thank you for telling me so much."