Chapter 32 Chapter 32 Tracking

"You have changed," said Poirot suddenly.He and Caterina sat facing each other at a small table in the Savoy. "Which aspect are you referring to?" "Such a nuanced difference is difficult to account for." "I'm getting old." "You are getting old. I don't mean that wrinkles appear on your face all of a sudden. When I first saw you, you seemed to be a spectator who calmly observes life, giving you a poised look. gives the impression that you are sitting comfortably watching a comedy." "And now?" "Now you are not a spectator. My analogy may be a little ridiculous: you now give the impression that a boxer is facing a fight that is not going to win."

"My old lady is a bit withdrawn sometimes," said Caterina, smiling, "but I can assure you: I don't want to box with her. You can visit her when you have time. I believe that this A strong old man will please you." The waiter promptly brought a roast chicken in a pan.When they were alone, Poirot inquired: "Since your return to England, have you seen our friends from the Riviera?" "I have seen Major Knighton." "Oh, oh, really?" Caterina looked into Poirot's leering eyes, but she involuntarily lowered her eyes. "I'm going to call on Herr von Alding in a few days."

"What news do you have to tell him?" "Why do you think this is so?" "Oh, I was just asking." Poirot watched her from across the table, blinking constantly. "I see, you seem to have something to ask me, why don't you ask me again? Isn't the secret on the 'Blue Express' a novel that we both collaborated on?" "I do want to ask you a few questions." "Then you muster up the courage to ask!" "What did you do in Paris, M. Poirot?" Poirot smiled slightly. "I called on the Russian minister."

"yes?" "Isn't that too queer for you? You may think that the prosecution of Derek Kettering is not quite satisfactory now? Of course, I sent Derek to prison. Without my participation, Mister Detective may still be busy investigating Earl Roger's crimes. However, I do not regret what I have done. It is my responsibility to find out the truth, and the clues are directly related to Mr. Kettering. Could it be that this clue Ended with him? Notwithstanding the opinion of the police, and I, Hercule Poirot, are not satisfied." He suddenly changed the subject. "Tell me, have you heard anything about Reynolds lately?"

"She wrote me a few letters. She seemed a little angry and troubled about my return." Poirot nodded. "I had a very interesting conversation with her the night Mr. Kettering was arrested." Both of them fell silent again, and Katerina didn't want to interrupt his train of thought. "Miss," he said at last, "I'm on a rocking boat, but I'll tell you this: there is someone who loves Mr. Kettering for this one, and I hope I'm right , and the police are wrong. Do you know who this man is?" After a pause, Caterina whispered, "I believe I know."

Poirot shook his head. "I am not satisfied, no, I am satisfied. All the facts prove that Caitlin is the murderer. However, there is one situation that has been ignored." "What do you mean?" "That's the face of the dead man who's been punched and deformed. I've asked myself a hundred times: Is Derek Kettering the kind of guy to kill his own wife and then give her this bloody blow? What's the point? Purpose? I couldn't figure out why he did it. And to solve it, I only got one kind of help." He took out an envelope, and between his thumb and forefinger, he took something out of it.

"Remember? You were there when I found this lock of hair by the pillow in the box." Caterina bent down to look at the lock of hair with great interest. Poirot kept nodding his head. "I can see that you can't say anything about the hair. But it seems to me that you know something." "People have ideas," Caterina said slowly. "Queer idea! That's why I ask you what you were doing in Paris." "You mean my letter to you?" "Written at the Ritz." Poirot had a characteristic smile on his face. "If you can go to the millionaire's account, people will live well."

"You were talking about the Russian ambassador," said Katerina, frowning. "What does it have to do with the case? I don't understand at all." "No direct connection. I went to him to make an inquiry. I also spoke to another character and threatened him. Yes, it was I, Hercule Poirot, who threatened him." "Have you spoken to the police?" "No," said Poirot impassively. "Talk to the press, to this deadly weapon. I suspect a man who was actively involved in the sale of the gem to von Alding. I told him the whole story, telling the truth From him, I learned where the gems were delivered. I also learned about this man, who has been wandering around before and after delivery. He has white hair, walks with a little limp, and looks Very young. I call him Mr. 'Marquis'."

"Then you have come to London now to speak to von Arden about the matter." "Not just for this purpose. I have other things to do here. I also talked to two people, one is the manager of the theater, and the other is a famous doctor. I got some clues from both of them. Please sort out the whole thing and see if you can find the key to the lock." "I'm afraid I can't." "Why not! From the first I doubted whether the theft and murder were committed by the same man. For a long time I was not sure." "And now?" "now I understand."

There was another silence.Then Caterina looked up.Her eyes shone brightly. "I'm not as sharp-eyed and thoughtful as you, M. Poirot. The circumstances you've told me only confuse me more and more, and I don't see any connection. My opinion of the case is quite different." An angle." "As things always do, the reflection in the mirror does not change." "My idea may be absurd...I'm sure it's different from yours, but..." "what?" "What do you think of this, M. Poirot?" She took a newspaper clipping out of her handbag and handed it to him, who read it and nodded. "That's what I told you. Everyone looks into the mirror from different angles, but the mirror is the same mirror, and the reflection is the same reflection."

Caterina stood up. "I have to go," she said. "I still have to catch that train. M. Poirot..." "how?" "Things, things are not allowed to be delayed any longer. I can't stand any more delays." Her voice sounded distressed. He held her hand reassuringly. "Be brave! You can't be weak now, and victory is at hand."