Chapter 4 Chapter 4 The Importance of Leg of Lamb

The Inspector took a key from his pocket and opened the door of Villa Granny.It was a fine, dry day, and it looked as if our shoes would leave no footprints, but we wiped and wiped them on the mat before the door before we went in. A woman came up sullenly to talk to the Inspector, who turned his back on us, and then, turning around, said: "Look carefully here, Mr. Poirot. This is the scene. I'll be back in about ten minutes. Oh, I almost forgot! These are Grant's boots. I brought them here, so you can compare them." We entered the drawing room, and the sound of the Inspector's footsteps faded away.Ingels was quickly attracted by some Chinese antiques on a corner table.He walked over and examined it carefully, as if he had no interest in what Poirot was doing.I, on the contrary, watched with bated breath Poirot's every move.The floor was covered with a layer of dark green linoleum that easily showed footprints.On the other side there was a door to the kitchenette, another door to the kitchen sink (which was just behind it), and another door to Robert Grant's bedroom.After surveying the house, Poirot criticized in a low, flowing voice.

"Judging from the big black spot and the small splashes nearby, this is where the body lay. You notice that there are carpet slippers and the footprints of the big number nine boots. Everything is inexplicable. And, Two sets of footprints to and from the kitchen, whoever the murderer is and where the hell he got in. Do you have your boots? Hastings, give me that." He checked the footprints carefully. "Yes, the same man's footsteps, Robert Grant's. He went from there, killed the old man, and then went back to the kitchen. He stepped on the blood. Didn't he see the blood when he went out?" Stain? People didn't see anything abnormal in the kitchen - all the village people came and went around and didn't notice. He went back to his room - no, he went to the murder scene first - did he go The Jade Man? Or has he forgotten something that might incriminate him?"

"Perhaps he killed the old man the second time he came in?" I suggested. "Impossible, you didn't notice there, an outgoing bloody footprint under an incoming footprint. I wonder why he came back--thought of the little beauty after the fact? It's ridiculous, very stupid." "Yes! He really won't hide the evidence!" "That's true! I tell you, Hastings, it's not the way it should be. My little gray cells don't think it's right. Let's go to his bedroom—ah! Yes, there's blood on the lintel. And, there was only one footprint—the bloody one. Robert Grant's footprint, and, only his footprint next to the body—Robert Grant was the only one near the room. Yes, Probably so."

"Where's the old lady?" I said suddenly. "She was alone in the house when Bert went to get the milk. It's also possible that she killed him before he started. Since she hasn't been out, she won't be at all." Leave footprints." "That's right, Hastings. I wondered if you might have the possibility. I've thought of the possibility, but then I've dismissed it. Bessie Andrews was a native woman, Everyone in the neighborhood knew her. She had nothing to do with the Big Four, and old Wally was a strong guy in every way. This murder was done by a man—not a woman."

"Wouldn't the Four Great Demons have some magic mechanism hidden under the ceiling - it can automatically descend, cut the old man's throat, and then go up again?" "Like Jacob's Ladder? Hastings, I know you have a lot of imagination - but, please, don't get it!" I felt very embarrassed and sank down.Poirot went on thinking, searching every room and cupboard with a dissatisfied expression on his face.Suddenly, he barked excitedly, reminiscent of a Pomeranian.I rushed to his side, and he was standing in the storage room as if acting, waving a leg of lamb.

"My dear Poirot!" I cried, "what is the matter? Have you suddenly gone mad?" "Look carefully at this leg of lamb, please. Look carefully!" I looked as carefully as I could, but I couldn't see anything unusual.I thought it was a pretty normal leg of lamb.I told the truth.He gave me a stern look. "You don't see here—here—and here—" Every time he said "here," he poked his hand at the innocent joint, and as he did so, little icicles fell from it. Poirot said just now that I was wild, but now I think he is more extreme than I am.Did he really regard these slender icicles as deadly poison crystals?This is the only explanation I can get for his unusual remark.

"It's frozen meat," I explained mildly, "you know, imported from New Zealand." He stared at me for a while, then laughed strangely. "My friend Hastings is so funny! He knows everything - but just scratches the surface of everything! How do people say - he must know everything inside and out. Find out. That's my friend Hastings." He threw the leg of lamb on a plate and left the pantry.Later, he looked out the window. "Our friend Inspector is here. That's right, I've read what I want to see here." He tapped on the table absently, as if concentrating on figuring out something.Then, out of the blue, ask, "What day is it? My friend."

"Monday," I said, a little surprised, "what—?" "Ah! Monday, isn't it? Bad day of the week. It's a mistake to commit murder on a Monday." Strolling back to the living room, he tapped on the glass on the wall and looked at the thermometer. "Hey, seventy degrees Fahrenheit. Typical British summer." "You are not very interested in the case, sir," said Poirot. The other party smiled slightly. "It's not my specialty, you know. I'm an expert in some things, but not this one. So, I just stand by and don't get in your way. In the East, I've learned to be patient."

The Inspector rushes in quickly, apologizing for his departure.He insisted on taking us around one more time, but we finally declined. "Thank you for your courtesy, Inspector," said Poirot.We're back on the streets of the town, "I have one more request." "You want to see the body, don't you, sir?" "Oh! God! No! I'm not interested in dead bodies at all. I want to see Robert Grant." "You'll have to drive back to Moreton with me to see him, sir." "Okay, that's it. But I have to talk to him alone." The inspector stroked his upper lip.

"Well, sir. I don't know if I can." "I assure you, if you ask the Metropolitan Police they will oblige." "Sir, of course, I have heard of your name, I know, you have been good to us. But this is against the rules." "However, it is necessary." Poirot said calmly, "Grant is not the murderer, so I must do it." "What? Then, who is the murderer?" "I suppose the murderer was a young man. He came in a buggy, left the buggy outside, went in to kill, came out, and drove away in the buggy again, with no hat on and blood on his clothes. "

"But—someone in the whole town should see him!" "In some cases not." "Maybe not at night, but this murder happened in broad daylight!" Poirot just smiled. "And horses and buggies, sir—how can you be sure? Any vehicle will pass by. No one saw any particular vehicle." "Maybe, the research of the physical body can't see it, but the eyes of the mind can see it." The inspector stroked his forehead thoughtfully and smiled at me.I was completely bewildered, but I had confidence in Poirot.We drove back to Moreton with the Inspector and ended the argument.Poirot and I were taken to Grant, but this meeting must be accompanied by a police officer.asked Poirot straight to the point. "Grant, I know you have nothing to do with this case. You tell me what really happened." The prisoner was a man of medium build with an unattractive appearance.He looks like a prisoner. "I can swear to God I didn't kill him," he said mournfully. "Someone put those little glass figures in my cart. It's a trap, that's all. As I said, I'll go in Then, go straight to my room. I had no idea what was going on until Suzy screamed. I swear, God, I didn't do it." Poirot stood up. "If you don't tell me the truth, then there's no need for us to talk." "But, sir—" "You did go into the drawing-room—you did know your master was dead; and you were trying to flee the scene when that Bessie found out about the tragedy." The man stared down at Poirot with the corners of his mouth drooping. "Tell the truth! Isn't it so? I tell you solemnly--tell the truth--that frankness is your only chance now." "I'm going to take a risk," said the man suddenly. "You're right. I went in, and went straight to the master—and he was killed, lying on the carpet, bleeding all over the place. I was taken aback. They're going to find my records, and they're going to say I killed him. All I can think about is get away—get away—before the body is found—" "Where are those beauties?" The man hesitated. "you know--" "You took those intuitively, didn't you? You heard your master say they were worth a fortune, and you thought as if you could take the opportunity to make a fortune. I can understand that. Now, answer my question. Are you the first Did you only get the jade man when you went to the living room the second time?" "I didn't go in again. Going in once was enough." "you sure?" "Absolutely no problem." "Okay, when will you get out of prison?" "Two months ago." "How did you get the job?" "Introduced by the Prisoner's Assistance. A man met me when I got out of prison." "What does he look like?" "He's not a clergyman, but he looks like one. Wears a floppy black hat, and speaks a little genteelly. Broken front tooth. Wears spectacles. His name is Sonder. He says he's got me a good job, Hope I turn around. I was introduced by him to work for old Wally." Poirot stood up again. "Thank you, I fully understand now. You have to be patient." He stopped at the door, and then asked: "Sonder got you a pair of boots, didn't you?" Grant looked very surprised. "Yes, he did give me a pair of boots. But how do you know?" "My job requires me to know everything," said Poirot gravely. We said hello to the Inspector, and the three of us went to White Heart's for a slow meal of eggs, bacon and Devonshire cider. "Any conclusions?" Ingels asked with a smile. "Yes, the murder case is clear now; but, you know, I'll have a lot of trouble proving it. Huo Li's killing was arranged by the Four Devils in advance-not by Grant. A very Cunning people introduced Grant to work, designed to make him a scapegoat-Grant's prison record made it easier to succeed. He gave him a pair of boots, one of two identical pairs, He kept the other pair to himself. The case was as simple as that. When Grant was leaving the house and Bessie was chatting outside (which was probably a daily routine of her life), he came, put on those boots, entered the kitchen, walked Went into the parlour, knocked the old man out, and cut his throat. Then he went back to disarm, took off his boots, put on another pair, put on another pair, walked back to the carriage, and departed." Ingels stared straight at Poirot. "But there's still a loophole. Why didn't anyone see him?" "Ah! I'm convinced that's the cleverness of Number Four. Everybody sees him—but everybody doesn't see him either. You know, he drives a butcher's car." I screamed. "leg of lamb?" "Yes, Hastings, a leg of lamb. Everyone swears no one came to Granny Cottage that morning, but I found a leg of lamb in the pantry that was still not defrosted. It was a Monday." , therefore, the leg of lamb must have been delivered that morning; if it had been delivered on Sunday, it would not have been frozen by then in this heat. Therefore, someone must have been at the cottage, and, Only one person with blood all over his body will not notice." "Smart!" Ingels exclaimed in agreement. "Yes, he's smart, Number Four." "As clever as Hercule Poirot?" I murmured. My friend gave me a dignified look. "Some jokes can't be messed with." He said succinctly, "Didn't I save an innocent man who was almost hanged? This day was not in vain."