Chapter 3 third chapter

At last Poirot let out a breath and pulled himself together. "Ah," he said, "we've wasted money motives. Let me consider other motives. Does Mrs. McGinty have any enemies? Is she afraid of somebody?" "There is no such evidence." "What do her neighbors think of it?" "Not much to say. Maybe they don't want to tell the police, but I don't think they're hiding anything. She's alone and reclusive, but that seems normal. Our villagers aren't very friendly to people, you know that . During the war, people evacuated from the city thought so. Mrs. McGinty spent time with her neighbors, but they were not close to each other."

"How long has she lived there?" "Probably eighteen or twenty years." "How did she spend the forty years before this?" "She was no secret. She was born in North Devon, a farmer's daughter. She and her husband lived for a time in Ilfracombe before moving to Kilchester, where they owned a house of their own, but they found it too damp and moved to Broadshinney. Her husband seemed to be a regular and discreet man, and he rarely went out in public, which was very disturbing. Respect is impeccable. There is nothing to hide." "But she was murdered anyway, wasn't she?"

"She was murdered anyway." "Doesn't that niece know what enemies her aunt has?" "She didn't say that." Poirot wiped his nose angrily. "You can understand, my friend, that it would be much easier to understand Mrs. McGinty's past if it were not what it is. Women, it's much easier." "Oh, she's not," said Spence calmly. "She's Mrs. McGinty, was and is. More or less a poorly educated woman. She lets out houses, does odd jobs, There are thousands of these women across the UK." "But they weren't all murdered by other people."

"Yes, I think so." "Why, then, should Mrs. McGinty be murdered? The obvious answer is unacceptable to us. Who's suspicious? An elusive niece who couldn't kill; Strange tenants who are less likely to kill, what about the facts? Let's look at the facts. What are the facts? An elderly cleaning lady was murdered, a shy, unmannered young man was arrested and Convicted of murder. Why was James Bentley arrested?" Spence's eyes widened again. "The evidence is against him, I told you." "Yes, evidence. But tell me again, my dear Spence, is this evidence real or has it been arranged?"

"Deliberate arrangement?" "Yes. Assuming that James Bentley is innocent, there are only two possibilities. One, the evidence is artificially fabricated, a deliberate illusion designed to place suspicion on him. secondly, that he happened to be the unfortunate victim of the circumstances." Spence thought about it. "Yes, I understand your thoughts and ideas." "There is no evidence that the first possibility exists, however, there is no evidence that it does not exist either. The money was taken and hidden in an easy-to-find location at the back of the house. If the money were put in his own room, it would have made the police a little more trouble to find it. The murder happened when he was out walking alone, as was his custom, and the blood stained his cuff as he said at the trial Did someone do it on purpose? Did someone secretly smear the obvious evidence on his cuff to frame him?"

"I think that may be a little too far, M. Poirot." "Maybe, but we have to think that way. In this case, we have to think that way, because our imaginations can't quite figure it out just yet... because, you know, dear Spence, if McGinn Mrs. Tee was just a very ordinary cleaning lady - the murderer must have been excellent. Yes - it was plain to think so. Unlike most cases, it was the murderer and not the victim that mattered in this case Usually, the personality of the victim is the key to the case, and I am often interested in the victim. Their hate and love, behavior and doing things are what I pay attention to. When you really understand the murdered who, when he could speak, uttered the name from his dead man's mouth—that's what you want to know about his murderer."

Spence looked extremely uncomfortable. "It's strange how these foreigners think!" he seemed to be saying to himself in his heart. "But this case," continued Poirot in his opinion, "is quite the opposite. In this case we suspect that there is a person who does not appear—a figure who remains hidden in the dark, undisclosed—who is the crux of the case. How did Mrs. McGinty die? Why did she die? The answer cannot be found by studying only Mrs. McGinty's life experience. The answer should be found in the experience of the murderer, who Do you agree with me that it is the character of conduct that explains the facts of this case?"

"I suppose so," said Superintendent Spence reservedly. "Who the hell wants to kill Mrs. McGinty? Why kill her? Or, why get rid of James Bentley?" Superintendent Spence snorted suspiciously. "Yes—yes, that is the first question to be clarified. Who is the real victim? Whom does the murderer intend to kill?" Spence said in a tone of disbelief: "Do you really think that someone killed a very innocent old woman who would never hurt anyone, and the purpose was to make someone else guilty of murder and be executed?" "As the saying goes, you can't make scrambled eggs without cracking them. If Mrs. McGinty said eggs were cracked, James Bentley could be scrambled eggs. Now tell me about your Know about James Bentley."

"I didn't know much about him. His father was a doctor who died when Bentley was nine. He went to a relatively small public school. He couldn't join the army because of his poor health. Worked in the government during the war. He lived with his mother." "Well," said Poirot, "that's more likely to have led to the murder than Mrs. McGinty's experience." "Do you really believe these ideas of yours?" "No, so far I can't believe anything. But I will say that there are two obvious leads that need to be investigated. We must decide very quickly which lead to pursue is the right one."

"How would you like to start your investigation, M. Poirot? Is there anything I can do for you?" "First, I want to have an interview with James Bentley." "It can be done and I'm going to talk to his lawyer about it." "After this, of course, according to the results of this conversation, if it leads me to find out--I don't have very high hopes for that--I'm going to the village of Broadshinney. There , with the aid of your record of the case, I will go through the investigations you have made as soon as possible, and go over the situation anew."

"You can fill in what I've missed." A self-deprecating smile crept across Superintendent Spence's face. "I'd rather say that maybe the same situation we're all in can make me think differently. People react to things differently, experiences vary from person to person. What I want to do is one of the things I just listed. Two doubts, it is obviously quicker and easier to get rid of doubts in Mrs. McGinty's case than to discover and investigate new doubts. So, is there a place for me to live in Broadshinney? Is there a comfortable one there? Where is the hotel?" "There's a 'Three Ducks' hotel—but it doesn't provide lodging. There's a 'Lamb' in Caleven, three miles from the village. There's an inn in Broadshinney too, which isn't really an inn, Just an old run-down country house owned by a couple who provide accommodation for guests and charge for it.” Spence wasted no time adding, “I don’t think it’s very comfortable there.” Hercule Poirot closed his eyes painfully. "If it's up to me to suffer, I'll suffer," he said. "It's a last resort." "I don't know what use it is for you to go there," said Spence, looking suspiciously at Poirot. "You are like an opera singer. Your throat is broken. It's time to take a rest, but you still insist on performing on stage." "I'm still going," said Hercule Poirot with a rush of loyal blood in his voice. "I will, as always, go to the site for investigation and research." At this, Spence pursed his lips. "Do you think this is necessary?" "I think it is very necessary! Yes, very necessary. Think about it, my dear friend, it is time for us to face reality. What do we all know? Know nothing. Therefore, our best hope is to assume I know many cases, and this assumption is our hope. I am Hercule Poirot, the great, the unique, the incomparable Hercule Poirot. And I, Hercule Poirot Poirot is not satisfied with the verdict in Mrs. McGinty's case; I, Hercule Poirot, doubt the truth of the case. I hope I can uncover the truth of which only I can rightly value. The real meaning, do you understand?" "and then?" "Then, after my real effort, I shall discover something, and I shall discover something, and there is no doubt that there will be a definite conclusion." Superintendent Spence looked at the short man uncomfortably. "Listen, M. Poirot," he said. "Don't take too much risk, I don't want you to encounter any accidents." "If anything happened, you would prove that you were not implicated in any way, would you?" "I don't want that kind of certification," Superintendent Spence replied.