Chapter 11 Chapter 11 Chess Problems

Poirot and I used to dine in a small restaurant in Soho.We were there one night when we saw a friend at a nearby table, and that was Inspector Japp.There was still room at our table, so he came over to share the table with us.It's been a while since we saw each other. "You don't come to see us now," said Poirot reproachfully. "We haven't seen each other for almost a month since the case of Yellow Jasmine." "I went up north—that's why. How are you? The Big Four are still strong—eh?" Poirot pointed his finger reproachfully. "Ah! You're laughing at me—but, the Four Great Devils—they're real."

"Oh! I don't doubt that they were real people—but they are not the center of the universe as you understand them." "My friend, you are so wrong. Today, the most powerful evil force in the world is the 'Four Devils'. No one knows what their ultimate goal is, but this criminal group is unprecedented, The smartest in China, an American rich man and a French female scientist, and the fourth—” Japp interrupted him. "I know—I know. You've just been thinking about it all day. You've become a Big Four, Monsieur Poirot. Let's change the subject and talk about something else. How good are you at chess? not interested?"

"Yes, I can play." "Do you know the strange thing that happened yesterday? Two players played against world-famous chess players, and one of them died in the game?" "I saw reports that one was the Russian champion Dr. Shavaronov, and another bright young American chess player named Timo Wilson died of heart failure." "That's right. Shavaronov beat Rubinstein three years ago to become the Russian champion. Wilson is called the second Cabablanca." "A very strange thing," said Poirot with emotion. "If I read correctly, you are very interested in this matter?"

Japp smiled sheepishly. "That's right, M. Poirot. I can't figure it out. Wilson was bright and energetic—not at all a heart patient. His sudden death is hard to explain." "You suspect that Dr. Shavaronov murdered him?" I said aloud. "Neither," said Japp flatly, "I don't think even a Russian would murder an opponent in a game of chess for fear of being beaten by him--whatever it comes from, I can feel it." It's just that something is wrong. The doctor is a very good chess player-second only to Lasker, it is said." Poirot nodded thoughtfully.

"Then what's in your gourd?" he asked. "Why did you poison Wilson? Of course, I'm assuming you suspect he was poisoned." "True. Heart failure is when the heart stops beating—that's what it is. That's what the doctor announced publicly at the time. But, privately, he hinted to us that he wasn't satisfied with the answer." "When is the autopsy?" "Tonight. Wilson's death was really sudden. He looked normal, and, in fact, he was moving a flag when he fell forward—and died." "Very few poisons act like this," protested Poirot.

"I know. I hope the autopsy will help us judge. But why would anyone murder Gilmer Wilson?—that's what I want to know most. Humble and innocent young man. Only here from America. And , he apparently doesn't have a single enemy in the world." "It seems incomprehensible!" I exclaimed. "Not quite," said Poirot, laughing. "I can see that Japp has a theory." "That's right, M. Poirot. I don't believe Wilson was poisoned—another man was the target." "Shavaronov?" "Yes. When the Russian Revolution broke out, Shavaronov attacked the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. It is also reported that he was killed. In fact, he escaped and survived unimaginably difficult three years in the Siberian wilderness. He suffered a lot, and the hardships made him so different. All who knew him said they could barely recognize him. His hair had turned gray and he looked very old. He was a half-crippled He, therefore, rarely goes out. He lives with his niece, Sonia Davirov, and a Russian servant in an apartment in the Wesminy district. He probably thinks he is still under surveillance, so, He was very unwilling to participate in this chess game. He frankly refused many times, and he reluctantly agreed until the newspapers blamed and attacked him for "unsportsmanlike refusal". The indomitable spirit of the old man, who constantly challenged him, finally had this race. Now, I ask you, M. Poirot, why is he unwilling to compete? Because he does not want to be noticed, and he does not want others to know his whereabouts. My opinion is—someone killed Gilmer Wilson by mistake."

"Nobody profited from Shavaronov's death?" "I think it's his niece. He recently acquired a large fortune. It was left to him by Mrs. Gospoa, whose husband was a profiteering sugar dealer in the old dynasty. There was an affair between them, I think, and she has been Refuses to believe reports that he is dead." "Where are you playing?" "At Shavaronov's. I told you he's disabled." "Are there many people watching chess?" "At least a dozen—maybe more." Poirot frowned meaningfully. "My poor Japp, it is not an easy task for you!"

"If I can confirm that Wilson was poisoned, I can continue to investigate." "Did it ever occur to you that if you assumed that Shavaronov was someone else's target, the murderer would try again?" "Of course I did. There are two men guarding Shavaronov's apartment." "It would be useful if someone shouted with a dynamite under his arm," said Poirot sarcastically. "You're getting interested, M. Poirot," said Japp, blinking. "Would you like to go to the morgue and see Wilson's body before the doctor does it? Perhaps his tiepin is crooked." , can also give you a very useful clue to solve the case!"

"My dear Japp, I've been itching my fingers all dinner time to straighten your tie-pin. You too, don't you? Ah! It's much nicer that way. Well, let's go to the morgue." I could see that Poirot's attention was completely absorbed by this new problem.It's been a while since he paid attention to any unrelated cases, so I'm glad he's back to normal. When I saw the stiff body and convulsed face of this young man who died inexplicably, I felt very sad and sorry.Poirot examined the body intently.Except for a small scar on the left hand, the deceased had no other marks.

"The doctor said it was a burn, not a cut," Japp explained. Poirot's attention turned to the contents of the dead man's pockets, which had been spread out by an officer for our inspection.There was nothing there - a handkerchief, keys, a note box full of notes and some unimportant letters.One thing, however, lay by itself alone, which attracted Poirot's attention. "A chess piece!" he cried. "A white bishop. Is this from his pocket?" "No, he held it in his hands. We managed to get the piece out of his fingers. It will be returned to Dr. Shavaronov later. It is a very beautiful pair of ivory carvings. One of the chess pieces."

"Let me pay him back. Then I'll have an excuse to go there." "Aha!" cried Japp. "So, you're going to join the case?" "Yes. You have skillfully interested me." "That's good. Takes you out of your ruminations. I can see Captain Hastings is delighted, too." "Good eyesight." I said with a smile. Poirot turned and walked towards the body. "Any other details about him to tell me?" he asked. "No." "Even—is he left-handed?" "You are a genius, M. Poirot. How do you know? He is left-handed, yes. But it has nothing to do with the case." "It's irrelevant." Seeing Japp's displeasure, Poirot immediately agreed. "I was joking--that's all. I like to joke with you. Good-bye." We got to know each other and left. The next morning we went to Shavaronov's apartment in the Wesminy district. "Sonia Davirov," I admired, "what a beautiful name." Poirot stopped and cast a disappointed glance at me. "Looking forward to a romance all the time! You are hopeless. If Sonia Davirov happens to be our enemy and friend, Countess Vera Ruskov, then you will suffer!" The mention of the Countess brought me a cloud of gloom. "Really, Poirot, you don't doubt—" "No, no. Just kidding! No matter what Japp says, at least I'm not thinking about the Big Four." A deadpan male servant came to answer the door.It is simply impossible to believe that this flat face has ever revealed all kinds of emotions and desires. Poirot produced an introduction card written by Japp, and we were shown into a low-ceilinged, rectangular room.Courtesy hangs a whole lot of trinkets and antiques.There were pictures on the walls, fine Persian rugs on the floor, and a copper teapot on the table. I looked carefully at a portrait that I thought was very valuable, and when I turned around, I saw Palin lying on the ground.The rug is beautiful, but, I don't think it needs this much attention. "Is it such a fine specimen?" I asked. "Eh? Oh... rug? Oh! No, I'm not looking at the rug. But it's really pretty, too pretty to have a big nail going through it out of nowhere. No, Hastings." I stepped forward , he said, "The nail isn't there now. The hole is still there, though." There was a sound behind me, I turned around, and Poirot rose nimbly.A girl is standing at the door.Her eyes stared at us suspiciously.She is of medium height, with a beautiful but melancholy face, dark blue eyes and short black hair.She spoke in a loud voice with a strong foreign accent. "I don't think it's possible for uncle to meet you. It's not convenient for him." "It's a pity, perhaps you can help us with this. You're Miss Davirov, aren't you?" "Yes, I am Sonia Davirov. What do you want to know?" "I would like to inquire about the tragedy of the night before yesterday—the sudden death of Mr. Gilmer Wilson. Can you tell me anything?" The girl's eyes were wide and round. "He died of heart failure while playing chess." "The police aren't sure what it was like—heart failure, miss, I mean." The girl looked frightened. "Well, that's true," she cried. "Ivan was right." "Who is Ivan? Why do you say he is right?" "It was Ivan who opened the door for you—he told me he didn't think Gilmer Wilson died of natural causes—he was poisoned by mistake." "Mistake the poison." "Yes, it was intended to poison my uncle." She had forgotten her mistrust at first, and spoke eagerly. "Why do you say that, miss? Who would want to poison Dr. Shavaronov?" She shook her head. "I don't know. I'm so confused, and my uncle doesn't believe me. Maybe it's natural for him. He hardly knows me, you know. I was a little boy when he saw me. , we never met again until I came to live with him in London. But I do know what I was afraid of. In Russia we have many secret organizations, and one day I overheard a name , it's this organization that reminds me he's afraid of. Tell me, sir."—she stepped forward, lowering her voice—"Have you ever heard of an organization called the 'Four Devils'?" Poirot jumped up almost involuntarily.His eyes popped in surprise. "Why do you—what do you know about the Four Great Devils, Miss?" "Then there really was an organization! I overheard the name, and I asked my uncle afterwards. I never saw a man so frightened. He was pale and trembling. He was afraid he hadn't, sir, Very frightened. I'm sure of that. And yet, by mistake. They killed that American, Wilson." "The Big Four," said Poirot in a low voice, "the Big Four again! What an amazing coincidence, madam, your uncle is still in danger. I must save him. Now, what happened that fatal night Describe it all to me, show me the board, the table, see how the two of you do it—everything." She went to the side of the room and took out a small table. The tabletop was very delicate, with a chessboard inlaid with silver and black crossed squares. "It was given to my uncle a few weeks ago, and he was asked to use the Huze chessboard for the next chess match. That day, the chessboard was placed in the middle of the room - like this." Poirot examined the table with an attention which I found unnecessary.If it were me, I would definitely ask the person some questions, but he didn't.In my opinion, many of the questions he asked were meaningless, and he kept silent on the really crucial questions.I came to the conclusion that it was probably because of the sudden hearing of the Four Great Devils that made him feel restless! He inspected the table, determined where to put it, and asked to see the chess pieces.Sonia Davirov brought out the whole box.He casually looked at a few chess pieces. "Exquisite set," he whispered absently. Still no question of what refreshments or who was there. I cleared my throat suggestively. "Poirot, don't you think—" He interrupted me rudely. "Don't think too much, my friend. Let me take care of everything. Is it impossible, madam, that I should like to see your uncle?" A faint smile appeared on her face. "He will see you, yes, you know, it is my duty to receive strangers." She went in and I heard murmurs from next door and a minute later she came back and took us to the next room. The man lying on the couch is unforgettable.Tall, gaunt, with bushy eyebrows, a white beard, and a face haggard with hunger and pain.Dr. Shavaronov was a man of outstanding looks.I noticed his strange head shape, unusual length.I know that a great chess player must have a bright mind.I can easily understand why Dr. Shavaronov became the second best chess player in the world. Poirot saluted. "Mr. Doctor, may I speak to you alone?" Shavaronov turned to his niece. "Go down, Sonia." She obediently goes out. "Hello, sir, what's the matter?" "Dr. Shavaronov, you have recently acquired a large fortune. Who will inherit it if you - unexpectedly pass away?" "I have made a will to leave everything to my niece Sonia Davirov. Do you want to suggest—" "I don't suggest anything. But it's easy to impersonate her, since you've seen him since she was a kid." Shavaronov was taken aback by these words.Poirot went on smoothly. "That's all. I want you to be careful, that's all. Now, I want you to describe to me the chess game that night." "What do you mean by description?" "Oh, I don't play chess, but I know--there's a brilliantly different way to start--sacrificing pawns to gain an advantage, isn't that what it's called?" Shavaronov smiled. "Ah! I know what you mean. People usually play solo and in pairs. Wilson starts with the Louie Lopez method—one of the most robust opening moves." "How long had you been playing when the tragedy happened?" "About the third or fourth move, Wilson suddenly leaned forward, flipped over the table, and died." Poirot rose to take his leave.He asked the last question nonchalantly, but I knew what he meant. "Did he eat or drink anything?" "I think it's whiskey and soda." "Thank you, Dr. Shavaronov. I won't bother you anymore." Ivan was on the passage telling me how to get out.Poirot stopped on the threshold. "Do you know who lives in the apartment down there?" "It's Sir Charles Kingway MP. However, the flat has recently been internally refurbished." "Thank you." We step outside into the bright winter sun. "Hey, to be honest, Bo Luo." I blurted out, "This time, I don't think you have anything special. Your question is indeed not very clever." "You think so, Hastings?" Poirot looked at me with interest. "It is true that my question was incoherent. If it were you, how would you ask it?" I considered his question carefully, and then told Poirot what I had said, and he seemed to listen to my monologue with great interest, and did not stop until we were almost home. "Your questions are very prominent and detailed, Hastings," said Poirot, inserting the key into the keyhole to open the door, and ascending the stairs. "However, it need not be so." "No need for that!" I exclaimed in amazement, "if this man was poisoned—" "Aha!" cried Poirot, snatching a note from the table. "Japp's. As I expected." He tossed me the note, which was short and to the point: no signs of poisoning, and No cause of death was found. "You see," said Poirot, "the questions you have mentioned are not necessary at all." "Did you expect this to happen?" "Forecast the probable consequences of things in advance." Poirot quoted a bridge puzzle I have spent a lot of time solving recently. "My friend, if you predict successfully, you are not guessing." "Stop talking about words," I said impatiently. "You did what you expected?" "good." "why?" Poirot put his hand in his pocket and drew out—a white bishop. "What," I yelled, "you forgot to return Dr. Shavaronov." "You are mistaken, my friend. The bishop is still in my left pocket. I got it from the board that Miss Davirov showed us. The plural of a bishop is two bishops. " He pronounced the final S sound as a loud hiss.I don't get it at all. "Why did you take this up?" "Of course I'll take it, I want to see if the two are exactly the same." He put the two chess pieces together on the table. "Well, of course they are," I said, "exactly the same." Poirot tilted his head and looked at them. "I admit that they look the same. But you have to prove it before you can admit the truth. Please, give me my little sky." He carefully weighed the two pieces, then turned to me triumphantly. "I guessed right. I tell you, I was right. Hercule Poirot couldn't be fooled." He rushed to the phone - waiting impatiently. "Japp? Ah! Japp, it's you. I'm Hercule Poirot. Keep an eye on Ivan the manservant. Don't let him get away. Yes, yes, just as I expected." He put the microphone down abruptly and turned to me. "You know everything, Hastings. Let me explain. Wilson wasn't poisoned, he was electrocuted. A thin iron needle went through the middle of a chess piece. The table was Prepared in advance, and placed in a specific spot on the floor. When the Bishop was placed in a silver cube, electricity passed through Wilson's body, killing him instantly. The only mark was the burn on his hand— - His left hand, because he is left-handed. The 'special table' was a very cunningly designed machine. The table I was looking at was a replica and was completely unrelated. The table where the accident happened has, after the fact, been Changed. The hands and feet were all made from the apartment downstairs, and if you're not forgetful, the interior was being renovated, but there was at least one accomplice in Shavaronov's apartment. The girl was a member of the Big Four Minion, wanting to inherit Shavaronov's money." "Then, what about Ivan?" "I very much doubt that Ivan is the famous No. 4." "what?" I recalled past experiences: the caretaker of the psychiatric sanatorium, the young butcher, the gentle doctor, all in the same guise, all looking very different. "Astonishing," I said finally, "everything fits. Shavaronov knew a little about the plot and, therefore, objected to the match." Poirot stared at me more and more silently.Then, suddenly turned away, pacing up and down there. "Do you happen to have a book on chess? My friend," he asked suddenly. "I think I have, but don't know where." It took me a while to look for the book, and at last I found it, and I showed it to Poirot, who, buried in his chair, read it intently. In less than a quarter of an hour, the phone rang.I will pick it up.It was Japp calling.Ivan leaves the apartment with a large bag, jumps into a waiting taxi, and begins a chase.He obviously wanted to get rid of the stalker.Finally, thinking he was out of the way, he drove to a large house in Hampstead.The house is already surrounded. I relayed it to Poirot.He just stared at me like he had no idea what I was talking about.He held up the chess book. "Listen to this, my friend. This is Louie Lopez's opening move, first move R-K4, PK, second move Kt-KB3, Kt-QB3, then, 3B-K5t? Now, How black's third move ends up. He has many different defenses to choose from. White's third move kills Gilmore Wilson, 3B-Kt5. That's the third move - you are right What's your opinion on this?" I told him honestly that I didn't understand what he meant. "Let me suppose, Hastings, that when you sit in this chair and you hear it being opened and closed, what would you think?" "I thought, I'd think someone was out." "Yes—but there are always two ways of looking at things. Someone going out—and someone coming in—two very different things, Hastings. There is always, however, some paradox if you assume wrongly. Show up and tell you you made a mistake." Poirot jumped up suddenly with vigor. "It shows that I'm not three times as stupid. Come on, come on, get to Wesminy's apartment. Maybe we'll have time." We hopped into a weighing van.I asked questions excitedly, but Poirot said nothing.We rush up the stairs.I rang the bell and knocked on the door again and again, but no one answered, but when I listened close to the door, I could distinguish a weak moaning sound from inside. The building superintendent had a master key and it took us a while to lobby him before he agreed to open the door. Poirot went straight to the inner room.There was a gust of Koro wind.Sonia Davirov was bound and her nose and mouth were stuffed with cotton padding impregnated with goro wind.Poirot immediately untied the rope and managed to revive her.Soon the doctor came, Poirot handed her over to him, and the two of us went inside.Dr. Shavaronov was not seen at all. "What's going on?" I asked confused. "That means there are two inferences ahead, and I've chosen the wrong one. You heard me say that it's easy to pretend to be Sonia Davirov, because his uncle hasn't seen her for so long." "good?" "Well, rightly, the opposite hypothesis would also hold. It would be easy enough for anyone to pretend to be that uncle." "what?" "The real Shavaronov did die at the outbreak of the revolution. The man who pretended to escape from that ordeal, the man so changed 'his friends hardly recognized him', the man who The person who successfully took over the huge fortune—” "Who is it?" "Number four. No wonder Sonia told him he was terrified when she heard him mention the Big Four in a conversation. He slipped through my fingers again. He thought later that I might have revealed His plot, therefore, to throw honest Ivan out on a chase with the police, to anesthetize the girl with chorophon before finally getting out himself, must now have cashed in most of the securities Mrs. Gospoa had left behind. " "But—but, who's going to kill him?" "No one wanted to kill him. Wilson was a calculated victim from the beginning to the end." "why?" "My friend, Shavaronov is the second greatest chess player in the world. The number four probably doesn't even know the basics of chess. Of course, he can't keep his honor in the game. He tries everything Ways to escape the game. When those methods failed, Wilson's doom was sealed. In any case, he couldn't let others find out that the great Shavaronov didn't know how to play chess. Wilson liked Lu Yi Lopez's way of opening, and he's sure to do it that way. Number Four is designed to go to move three, and electrocute him when the moves aren't too complicated." "But, my dear Poirot," I insisted, "are we going up against a madman? I fully understand your reasoning, and admit that you are right, but killing people just to play their part well! Of course there is. Easier options available than that? He could say his doctor forbade him from the stress of the game." Poirot raised his eyebrows. "You're right, Hastings," he said. "There are other ways, but none are as convincing as this one. You think murder should be avoided, don't you? It's not in No. 4's head." Think. I can break his spirits, which you can't. I can speak his mind, he enjoys being a professor in the game. I believe he has been to the chess tournament to watch. The game He sat there frowning, thinking about his great plan, and snickering all the time. He knew that the only two moves he could make himself - and all he had to do. His mind would once again Moreover, I personally solved this person at a certain time, which is in line with No. 4's usual style... Oh, yes, Hastings, I began to understand our opponent and his Mental." I shrugged. "Well, I think you're right, but I don't see why you should take a risk that he can easily avoid." "Risks!" snorted Poirot contemptuously. "Risks of what? Japp can't solve the problem at all, and if Number Four hadn't made a small mistake; he wouldn't be in danger at all." "His little mistake?" I asked, "although, I'm already aware of the answer. "My friend, he forgot Hercule Poirot's little gray cells." Poirot has his good virtues, but humility is by no means one of them.