Chapter 25 Chapter Twenty-Five

Grange came to Xizhai to drink tea with Hercule Poirot, which was exactly the kind of tea he was worried about - extremely bland, Chinese tea. "These foreigners," thought Grange, "don't know how to taste tea, and you can't teach them." But he didn't mind much.He is in a pessimistic mood, and when there is more than one unpleasant event he tends to experience a terrible joy. He said: "The interrogation is only adjourned until the day after tomorrow, and have we learned anything? Nowhere. What the hell..., where must that gun be? Damn country - miles and miles of woods. Need to have one Troops are seriously searching. It's a needle in a haystack, it could be anywhere. The truth is, we have to face it - we may never find that gun."

"You will find it," said Poirot confidently. "This, without hard work, is impossible!" "You'll find it, it's a matter of time. And I just said it early. Another drink?" "I don't mind doing this—no, no boiling water." "Is the tea too strong?" "Oh no, not at all thick," the sheriff politely understated. He sipped the pale, yellowish drink melancholy. "This case made me look like a monkey, M. Poirot—I made a fool of a monkey! I don't know these people. They seem to be very helpful to you—but they tell Everything about you seems to lead you off track and in fruitless searches."

"Off track?" said Poirot.A look of surprise flickered in his eyes. "Yes, I see. Off track..." The sheriff now added to his grief. "Now about the guns. Crystal was shot - according to the coroner's evidence - just a minute or two before you arrived. Mrs. Angkater was carrying an egg basket, and Miss Savnac with a garden basket full of dead flowers, and Edward Angkatell in a shooting suit with baggy pockets full of bullets. Either of them could have taken the revolver away. It didn't Hidden anywhere near the swimming pool - my men searched there, so there's no doubt it wasn't around."

Poirot nodded.Grange continued: "Gerda Crystal has been framed—but by whom? Every lead I've followed seems to have vanished into thin air here." "Are their stories about how they got through that morning satisfying?" "Those stories are all good. Miss Savenack was arranging the flowers. Mrs. Anglecartel was collecting eggs. Edward Anglecartel was shooting with Sir Henry, and parted afterwards—Sir Henry returned to the house, And here came Edward Angkatell through the woods. The young lad was studying hard in his bedroom. (There are many interesting things to savor on a fine day, but he was inside, Bookworm.) Miss Hardcastle went to the orchard with a book. All this sounded perfectly natural and reasonable, and there was no way of checking. Gjeyn took a tray of glasses to the An awning. He couldn't tell where any of the house was or what they were doing. In a sense, you know, there was evidence against every single one of them."

"Really?" "Of course the most obvious one is Veronica Clay. She had a fight with Crystal, she hated his courage, she could very well have shot him - but I can't find a shred of evidence that she did Evidence that he was shot at. There is no evidence that she had a chance to steal the revolver from Sir Henry's collection. No one saw her go to the swimming pool that day. And the missing revolver is certainly not with her now. " "Ah, are you sure of that?" "What do you think? I had issued a search warrant, but it was of no use. She was very generous about it. It wasn't in any corner of that insignificant bungalow. After the adjournment of the trial, we had a superficial look at Miss Cray and Sarver. Miss Knucker is very lenient and secretly has people following them to see where they go and what they do. We have people watching Veronica at the studio - there is no sign of her trying to drop the gun there .”

"What about Henrietta Savenak?" "Nothing. She went straight back to Chelsea, and we've been keeping a close watch on her since. The revolver was neither in her sculpture room nor in her flat. She was very happy about the search—seemed happy." ... some of her bizarre creations turned my life around quite a bit. He said it baffled him why people would want to make that kind of thing - lumpy figurines, some brass and aluminum twisted into weird Shape, those horses are nothing like the horses you know." Poirot moved. "horse?" "Oh, a horse. If you call it a horse! If people want to make a horse" why don't they look at a horse! "

"A horse," repeated Poirot. Grange turned his head. "What interests you so much, M. Poirot? I don't understand." "Association—A Perspective in Psychology." "Associations of words? Horses and carriages? Rocking horses? People who care too much about clothes. No, I don't understand. At least, in a day or two, at least, Miss Savnak will be packing up and coming here again. You know what?" ?” "Yeah, I was just talking to her and saw her go into the woods." "Uneasy, yes. Well, she's been having an affair with the doctor, and what he said 'Henrietta' before he died was very much like an accusation. But not quite enough, M. Poirot."

"No," said Poirot thoughtfully, "not quite enough." Grange said gravely: "There's something in the air here--it tangles you up and makes you a mess! As if they all knew something. Now about Mrs. Anglecartel--she'll never be able to come up with a Appropriate justification for why she carried a gun with her that day. It was a crazy thing — sometimes I thought she was crazy." Poirot shook his head gently. "No," he said, "she's not crazy at all." "And then there is Edward Anglecartel. I thought I had found something in him. Mrs. Anglecartel said—no, hinted—that he had been in love with Miss Savnac for many years. So , and that gave him a motive. But now I find out that it was another girl—Miss Hardcastle—to whom he was engaged. So there was nothing against him.”

Poirot grunted sympathetically. "Come down the young lad," went on the sheriff. "Mrs. Angkatell accidentally spilled some stuff about him. His mother, died in a mental institution - persecutor - thought everyone was plotting to kill her. Oh, you can see what that might mean ...if the boy had inherited this strange, insane genetics, he might have had an idea of ​​Dr. Crystal in his head—maybe imagining that the doctor was planning to kill him, to justify his beliefs. True. It's not that Christo is that kind of doctor. Counseling the mentally ill and supervising patients -- supervising stuff, that's what Christo does. But if the boy is even a little mentally disturbed, he One might imagine that Krystal came here to watch him closely. He behaved strangely, that young lad, as nervous as a cat."

Grange sat unhappily for a while. "You see what I mean? All vague doubts lead to no clues." Poirot moved again.He muttered softly: "Off track—not toward. From there, not to. There's nowhere, instead of somewhere . . . yes, of course, there must be." Grange watched him.He said: "They're weird, all these Angkatells. I swear, sometimes, they know all about it." Poirot said quietly: "They know." "You mean, they know, all of them, and who?" asked the sheriff incredulously. Poirot nodded. "Yes, they do. I've thought so for a while. Now I'm pretty sure of it."

"I see." The sheriff's expression turned disgusted. "Did they hide it? Oh, I'm going to bang them. I'm going to find that gun." This is absolutely, thought Poirot, the Sheriff's theme song. Grange continued resentfully: "I'm going to take revenge on them in any way I can." "right--" "All of them! Messed up! Proposals! Hints! Help my men--help them! There's cobwebs and webs everywhere, nothing is touchable. What I want is a completely Reliable fact!" Hercule Poirot had been looking out of the window for some time.His gaze was drawn to something unconventional in his field of vision. He is only now speaking: "You want a solid fact? Ehbien Unless I'm dead wrong, there's a solid fact in the fence by my gate." They walked along the path in the garden.Grange knelt down and tugged at the twigs until he found the thing lodged in them.He took a deep breath when the black steel object was revealed. "It's a revolver," he said. For a moment his eyes rested suspiciously on Poirot. "No, no, my friend," said Poirot, "I did not shoot Dr. Crystal, and I did not hide the revolver in my own fence." "Of course you didn't, M. Poirot! Sorry! Oh, we've found it. It looks like the one that was lost in Sir Henry's study. We'll be able to identify it as soon as we get the number. Then we'll find out if it's the one." The gun that killed Crystal. It's easy now." Very carefully he took the gun out of the fence with a silk handkerchief. "Give us a chance, we need fingerprints. I have a feeling, you know, our luck will change eventually." "let me know." "Of course I will, M. Poirot. I will call you." Poirot had two calls, the first of which came that evening.The sheriff was excited. "Is that you, M. Poirot? Oh, I tell you. It was the gun, yes. The one that was lost in Sir Henry's collection and the one that killed John Crystal! That's for sure. And there are many sets of fingerprints on it. The thumb, the index finger, and a part of the middle finger. Didn't I tell you that our luck has changed?" "Have you identified those fingerprints?" "Not yet. Not Mrs. Crystal's, of course. We've taken hers. Judging by the size, they look more like a man's. I'm going to Hollow Manor tomorrow to announce my little discovery and get every one of them." A sample of human fingerprints. And then, Monsieur Poirot, we shall know where we are!" "I do hope so," said Poirot politely. The second call came the next day, and the voice was no longer excited. In a tone full of melancholy, Grange said: "Want to hear the latest news? Those fingerprints are not those of anyone connected with the case! No, sir! They are not of Edward Angkatell, not of Davy, not of Sir Henry! They are not of Greg Elda Cristo's, not Savnac's, not our Veronica's, not Mrs.'s, not that little brown girl's! They're not even that cook's - let alone There are other servants!" Poirot made sympathetic noises.The mournful voice of Inspector Grange continued: "So it appears that it was done by someone outside. Someone, that is to say, someone who harbored ill will against Dr. Crystal and we knew nothing about it. Someone from the study, The man who snatched the gun, and who shot and walked away down the trail leading to the country road. This man put the gun in your fence and disappeared without a trace!" "Do you want my fingerprints, my friend?" "I have no objection to it! It astonishes me, M. Poirot, that you were there, and in no way are you the prime suspect in the case!"