Chapter 14 Chapter Thirteen: Here Comes Hercule Poirot

I don't think I'll ever forget how I felt when I first saw Hercule Poirot; afterward, of course, I got used to seeing him that way.But, at first, I was dismayed, and I thought everyone else felt the same way. I don't know what I'd imagined him to be--a sort of Sherlock Holmes-like figure, perhaps--a tall, thin man with a face of supreme intelligence.Of course, I knew he was a foreigner, but I didn't expect him to be so foreign, you must know, you know what I mean. When you see him, you just want to laugh.He is a character on stage or in comics.For one thing, he wasn't a man over five-foot-five--but a ridiculously short, fat man, very old, with a big mustache and a head like an eggshell.He looks like the barber in a farce.

This is the man who investigated who killed Mrs. Leidner! I think my distaste for him showed somewhat on my face, for suddenly, with a strange gleam in his eyes, he said to me almost at once: "You disapprove of me, ma soeur (my head nurse)? You know, a pudding is only good when you eat it." I think what he's trying to say is: You have to eat the pudding to know how delicious it is. Ah, that's a good proverb.However, I can't say how confident I am in it myself! Shortly after lunch on Sunday, Dr. Rayleigh drove him out of town to us, and his first step was to ask us all to gather together.

We all gathered in the dining room and sat around a table.Mr. Poirot sat at the head, Dr. Leidner on one side of him, and Dr. Rayleigh on the other. When we were all assembled, Dr. Leidner cleared his throat and spoke in his soft, hesitant tone. "I think you all have long admired the name of Mr. Hercule Poirot, who passed by Hashani today. Now, with his kindness, he has agreed to stop here and help us in our investigation. Members of the Iraqi Police and Captain Maitland , I believe I have done my best—but—there are some circumstances in this case—” He paused hesitantly, looking at Dr. Rayleigh for help, “—seems to be—difficult.”

"Everyone's not quite well-behaved,''--is it?" said the short man at the head of the table.Why, he can't even speak English well! "Oh, we've got to get him!" cried Mrs. McGado. "We can't bear to let him get away!" I noticed the short foreigner staring at her, appraising her. "Him? Who is he? Madame?" he asked. "Why, of course it's the murderer!" "Ah, murderer," said Hercule Poirot. He spoke as if the murderer had nothing to do with it! We all stared at him intently, and he looked at us, looking at this and then at that.

"I suppose," he said, "that none of you may have had contact with a murder?" Everyone agreed in a low voice. Hercule Poirot smiled. "So, obviously, you have no basic knowledge of the situation. There are embarrassing things about such a case! Yes, there are a lot of embarrassing things. Suspicions, for example." "Suspect?" It was Miss Johnson who was speaking now, and Mr. Poirot looked at her thoughtfully.I got a feeling that he was looking at her approvingly.He seemed to be thinking: "This is a reasonable and intelligent person!" "Yes, ma'am," he said, "suspects! Let's put it bluntly, everyone in your house is suspect: the cook, the servants, the kitchen help, the pot-washing boy—yes, and All the colleagues of the Antiquities Investigation Team."

Mrs. McGado jumped to her feet, her face twitching with rage. "How dare you? How dare you say such a thing? It's outrageous—unbearable! Dr. Leidner—you can't sit there—let this man—let this man—" Dr. Leidner said wearily, "Mary, please calm down." Mr. McGado stood up too, his hands shaking and his eyes bloodshot. "I agree, it's really slander - an insult!" "No, no," said M. Poirot, "I'm not insulting you, I'm just asking you all to face the fact that in a house where there's been a murder, everyone who lives in it has some suspicion. I I ask you: what evidence is there to say that the murderer came in from outside?"

Mrs. McGadoo exclaimed: "Of course he came in from the outside! That makes sense! Ah—" She paused, and then spoke more slowly. "Any other theory is unbelievable." "You are right, no doubt, ma'am," said Poirot, bowing deeply. "I am only showing you where the matter should be investigated. First, I have convinced myself that the people in this room, Everyone is innocent. Then, I look elsewhere for the killer." "Is it too late?" said Father Lavigne politely. "A tortoise can catch a hare, mon pere (Father)." Father Lavigne shrugged.

"We are at your command," he said resignedly. "I hope you will soon be able to believe that we are all innocent in this dreadful event." "I'll try to be as quick as possible. It's my duty to explain the situation to you. Then, perhaps, I'll ask the question a bit more presumptuously, and you won't be offended. Father, perhaps the priest must set an example?" "Ask me all you please," said Father Lavigne gravely. "This is your first time here to participate in archaeological work, right?" "yes."" "So, you came here—when?"

"Three weeks ago, hardly a day was bad, and that was the twenty-seventh of February." "From where?" "Society of the Fathers Blanc of Carthage," "Thank you, Father. Did you know Mrs. Leidner before you came here?" "I don't know, I've never seen her before I met her here." "Can you tell me what you were doing when the tragedy happened?" "I was translating a cuneiform inscription on a stele in my room." I noticed that Poirot had a rough plan of the house with him. "Is that the one on the south-west corner corresponding to Mrs. Leidner's bedroom opposite?"

"yes." "When did you get back into the room?" "I'll be back right after lunch. It was about twenty minutes to one." "How long were you in the room?" "Just before three o'clock, I heard the station wagon come back—and then it went off again. I didn't know why, so I came out to have a look." "Did you come out when you were in your room?" "No, not once." "Did you not hear or see anything connected with that tragic event?" "No." "Doesn't your room have a window facing the courtyard?"

"No, both windows look out on the field." "Can you hear what's going on in the yard?" "Not much. I heard Mr. Emmott pass outside my room and go up to the roof. He went up once or twice." "Do you remember when?" "Don't remember, I'm afraid I don't, you know, I was engrossed in my work." There was a pause, and then Poirot said: "Can you say, or suggest, anything that might help us understand the case?" Father Lavigne looked slightly disturbed, and he looked quickly, somewhat questioningly, at Dr. Leidner. "That's a somewhat difficult question," he said gravely. "If you ask me, I must confess that I thought Mrs. Leidner was clearly afraid of someone, or of something. No doubt about it." Yes, she's nervous about strangers. I think there's a reason for her nervousness—but I don't know why, and she doesn't trust me." Poirot cleared his throat and looked over the notes in his hand. "I heard that there were thieves here two nights ago, which caused a fright." Father Lavigne said yes, and then he saw lights in the antiquities room.And let's talk about the fruitless search in the future. "Do you believe, don't you, that at that time someone came into the vicinity of the house without permission?" "I don't know what to think," said Father Lavigne frankly. "Not a single thing has been lost or messed up here. Perhaps one of the servants here—" "Or a colleague from the inspection team?" "Or a colleague of the inspection team. But if that's the case, there's no reason for that person not to admit it." "But is it equally possible for a stranger from outside to come in?" "I suppose so." "Suppose a stranger has been in the house, can he be safely concealed during the day of the second day, and until the afternoon of the third?" He asked half of Father Lavigne and half of Dr. Leidner, and they both considered what he was asking. "I suppose it's almost impossible," said Dr. Leidner at length. "I can't see where he might be hiding. Do you think it's possible, Father Lavigne?" "No, no, I don't think so." The two of them seemed reluctant to put that thought aside. Poirot, turning to Mademoiselle Johnson, said: "And you, Miss? Do you think this hypothesis is possible?" Miss Johnson thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Impossible," she said, "I thought it was impossible. Where could one hide? The bedroom was occupied, and, at any rate, very little furnished. On the second day, the dark room, the living room, the drawing room The chambers and studies are all occupied, and these rooms are occupied. There are no cupboards, or corners to hide in. Perhaps, if the servants collude—" "That is possible, but not necessary," said Poirot. He turned again to Father Lavigny and said: "There's another point. A few days ago, Nurse Leatheran here noticed that you were talking to someone outside. Before that, she had seen the same person trying to peek into a window from the outside, and it looked as if that person Loitering around this place on purpose." "Of course it is possible," said Father Lavigne thoughtfully. "Did you talk to the man first, or did he talk to you first?" Father Lavigne thought for a moment. "I think—well, I'm sure he spoke to me first." "what did he say?" Father Lavigne tried to remember. "What he said, I think, was something along the lines of: Is this the house of the American Antiquities Service? Then he said something that the Americans hired a lot of workers to dig. I really couldn't understand him, but I tried to talk to him, The purpose is to improve my ability to use Arabic. I thought, maybe, because he is from the city, he will understand me better than the diggers.”, "Did you talk about anything else?" "As far as I can remember, I said Hashani was a big city—but then we all thought Baghdad was bigger—I think he also asked me if I was an American Archbishop, or an Amerian Catholic— Words like that." Poirot nodded. "Can you describe what he looks like?" Father Lavigne frowned again, thinking. "Liu is a rather short man," he said at last, "of a solid build, with conspicuous cross-eyed eyes and a fair complexion," M. Poirot turned to face me. "If you describe this person's appearance, do his words match the way you want to describe?" "Not exactly," I said hesitantly. "If I were to describe him, I'd say he's not short, but he's tall and dark brown. I remember he seemed tall and slender, and I noticed he had squinting eyes." .” M. Poirot shrugged his shoulders in disappointment. "Always! If you're policemen, you'll be familiar with the situation. The way two people describe the same person—always inconsistent, contradicting each other in every detail." "As to his squint, I am almost sure," cried Father Lavigne, "and the nurse may be right about the other points. By the way, when I say his skin is fair, I mean only that." For Arabs, it is white, and I think the nurse would call it brown." "It's quite brown," I said stubbornly, "a dirty dark yellow." I saw Dr. Rayleigh bit his lip and smiled.Poirot spread his hands upward. "This stranger," he said, "this wandering stranger, he may or may not be important, but in any case we must find him, and now we will continue to ask." He hesitated for a moment, surveying the faces round the table turned towards him, and then, with a quick nod, singled out Mr. Rhett. "Ah, my friend," said he, "let us hear your account of that afternoon." Rhett's fat face turned crimson. "I?" "By the way, you. First of all, may I ask your surname, how old are you?" "Carl Ritter, twenty-eight years old." "Americans—are they?" "Yes, I'm from Chicago." "Is this your first time working on the excavation?" "Yes, I'm in charge of photography." "Ah, yes. So, what were you doing yesterday afternoon?" "Well—I spend most of my time in the dark room." "Most of the time—huh?" "Yes. I'm developing some negatives first. Then I'm setting things up for the photo." "Outside?" "Ah, no, in the studio." "Does the darkroom have a door to the outside studio?" "yes." "So, you never walked out of the studio?" "No." "Did you notice what happened in the yard?" The young man shook his head, "I wasn't paying attention to anything," he explained. "I was busy. I heard the car coming back. As soon as I was able to leave my work, I came out to check for mail. That's when I heard -" "So, you started working in the studio—when?" "It's less than ten minutes." "Did you know Mrs. Leidner before you went on the mission?" The young man shook his head. "No, sir, I never saw her before I came here." "Can you think of anything - anything that happened by chance - no matter how small - that would help us understand the case?" Carl Ritter shook his head. He said helplessly: "I don't think I know anything at all, sir." "Mr. Emmott?" David Emmott, in his pleasant, soft American accent, said plainly and briefly: "I was arranging the crockery between a quarter to one and a quarter to three—supervising a man named Abdullah children, sorted, and occasionally went up to the roof to help Dr. Leidner." "How many times have you been to the roof?" "I think four times." "How long?" "Usually it's two minutes - not more. But one time, when I was working for more than half an hour; I was on the roof for ten minutes - we discussed what to keep, what to throw away." "I heard you came down to find that kid off his job, didn't you?" "Yes, I called him back angrily, and then he came back from outside the arch, having gone out to chat with some other people." "Was that the only time he was away from work?" "However, once or twice I sent him to bring up the pottery." Poirot said solemnly: "Mr. Emmott, I hardly need to ask you, did you see anyone enter or leave Mrs. Leidner's room during that time?" Mr. Emmott replied at once: "I saw no one. Not even one came out of the house into the yard during the two hours I was working." "According to what you think, when you and that child were not in the courtyard and the courtyard was empty, was it half past one?" "It couldn't have been far from that. Of course, I can't say with certainty." Poirot turned to Dr. Rayleigh and said: "Doctor, that is consistent with your estimated time of death." "Yes," said Dr. Rayleigh. Poirot stroked his big gray beard. "I think we can conclude," he said solemnly, "that Mrs. Leidner was killed within those ten minutes."

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