Chapter 12 Chapter Twelve Small Investigation Meeting

A small investigation will be conducted in conjunction with an autopsy on Monday. I do not wish to recount the details of the autopsy.If it were to be recounted in detail, it would just be repeated over and over again.But the police had explained it in advance, and they were not allowed to talk too much.I have only given some evidence as to the cause of Aykroyd's death, and the approximate time of his death.The coroner gave his opinion on Ralph Paton's absence, but did not overemphasize it. Afterwards, Poirot and I spoke to the Inspector, who looked very serious. "It's a very bad situation, M. Poirot," he said. "I try to do it as impartially as I can. I'm a native and have seen Captain Paton many times in Cranchester. I don't want him to be the murderer— —But the situation is not good for him in any way. If he is innocent, why doesn't he come and explain? We have evidence that he committed the crime, but it is likely that the evidence will disappear after his explanation. It can be clarified. Then why didn't he come out and explain?" I didn't fully understand the inner meaning of the Inspector's words at the time.In fact, they have already sent a telegram to all docks and stations in the UK to arrest Ralph, and the police everywhere have raised their vigilance.His room in the city, as well as the places or places he frequented, were closely watched.In this tight security, it seemed that Ralph could not escape.He had no luggage, and he had no money with him.

"I haven't called anyone who saw him on the phone at the station that night," continued the inspector, "but I think he's well known to people here, and someone must have seen him on the phone. There's no news of him from Liverpool either." " "You think he went to Liverpool?" asked Poirot. "Oh, that's obvious. The call at the station was made three minutes before the Liverpool Express left." "The caller may have done it on purpose to distract you. It may be the call The purpose of the telephone call." "That is also a statement," said the inspector eagerly; "you really think that is the purpose of the telephone call?" "My friend," said Poirot gravely, "I am not sure of that." , but I can tell you this: If we can figure out the purpose of the call, then the murder mystery will be solved." "I remember you saying something like that before." I said, looking at him curiously.

Poirot nodded. "I keep thinking about that," he said solemnly. "I don't think it has anything to do with murder." I offered my opinion. "I don't think so," objected the Inspector, "but I must say frankly that M. Poirot is too attached to the point, and we have better clues to follow, say, the fingerprints on the hilt of the sword." Poirot's behavior suddenly became inexplicable, as he always did whenever he was excited. "M. l'Inspecteur," he said, "beware of blindness—blindness—Comment dire (French: how do you say it)?—paths with no end." Rag Inspector Lun was dumbfounded and didn't know how to deal with it.I took up the subject very astutely.

"You mean a dead end?" I said. "That's what you mean—there's no way out. As far as these prints are concerned, it's likely to get nowhere." "I don't know what you're talking about," said the Inspector. "Are you implying that these prints are fakes?" Yes? I've seen such stories in books, but I've never encountered them in a case. Whether it's true or not—we can always get some clues." Poirot just shrugged and stretched his arms. arm. The superintendent showed us various enlarged photos of fingerprints, and explained to us the problem of finger ribbing from a technical point of view.

"Hello," he said at last, clearly annoyed at Poirot's indifference. "You have to admit that these fingerprints must have been left by someone in the house that night, don't you?" "Bien entendu (French: of course)," said Poirot, nodding. "Well, I've got the fingerprints of everyone in the family. To tell you the truth, from the old lady all the way to the kitchen girl." I don't think Mrs. Ackroyd would like to be called an old lady, she Spend a lot of money on makeup. "Everyone's fingerprints," repeated the Inspector, fearing that others might not hear him clearly.

"Including mine." I said expressionlessly. "The fingerprints showed that none of the prints matched the one on the hilt of the sword. Now there are only two left, either Ralph Paton's or the mysterious stranger the doctor met. When we found these two men—" "You have wasted a lot of precious time," interrupted Poirot. "I don't understand you, M. Poirot." "You said you had all the fingerprints," said Poirot in a low voice. "Is that true, Monsieur Inspector?" "Of course!" "No Leaving no one?" "No one." "Including all the living and dead?" The inspector was momentarily puzzled by these religious remarks.It was a long time before he said slowly: "You mean—?" "Fingerprints of a dead man, Mr. Inspector." The inspector hesitated for a moment, but still could not understand.

"I mean," said Poirot calmly, "that the fingerprints on the hilt are Mr. Ackroyd's own. It is very easy to prove that. His body is still there." "What's the point of that? You Didn't he say he committed suicide, M. Poirot?" "Ah! No. I mean, the murderer wore gloves or something to cover his hands, and after the stabbing he used the dead man's hand to hold the sword tightly. handle." "But for what purpose?" Poirot shrugged again. "To further complicate this complicated case." "Well then," said the inspector, "I'll check it out. How did you come up with that?" "When you showed me the sword, and pointed out I thought of that when I saw the fingerprints on the sword. I don't know much about finger ribs--to be honest, I don't know anything about fingerprints. But I found the position of the fingerprints on the hilt a bit awkward. If I were to kill I would never have held the knife that way if I had. It is obviously difficult to get the correct position with the right hand raised behind the shoulder." Inspector Raglan stared at the short detective dumbfounded.Poirot looked absent-minded and brushed the dust off his sleeves.

"That's right," said the Inspector. "That's your idea, and I'll go and confirm it right away. Don't be disappointed if it's not." His tone was mild, but with the air of a superior speaking to a subordinate.Poirot watched him go out, then turned to me and winked at me. "I'll have to watch out for his amour propre (French for self-esteem) in the future," he said. "Now we can go our own way, my friend. How about we have a 'little family reunion'?" Poirot The so-called "little meeting" took place half an hour later.We sat around a table in the dining room of Fernley Court.Poirot sat at the head of the table, like a chairman convening a solemn board of directors.The servants were not present, there were six of us in all.Mrs Ackroyd, Flora, Major Brent, young Raymond, Poirot and myself.

When everyone arrived, Poirot stood up and bowed to everyone. "Gentlemen and ladies, I have called you here for some information," he paused, "and first of all I have a special request for the lady." "A request for me?" asked Flora. "Miss, you are engaged to Captain Ralph Paton, and the only person in the world he can trust is you. I sincerely beg you, if you know his whereabouts, go and persuade him to come back." Flora raised her head Just as he was about to speak, Poirot said again: "Wait a while, and think it over. Miss, his situation is becoming more and more dangerous. If he can come here at once, no matter how unfavorable the situation is for him, he will have a chance to clarify these facts. But he kept silent—avoided, what does that mean? Of course it only means that he admits to the crime. Miss, if you really think he is innocent, go and persuade him, ask him to hurry Come back, or it will be too high." Flora became very pale.

"Too late!" she repeated very slowly. Poirot leaned forward and looked at her. "You must understand, madam," he said very kindly, "that it is Uncle Poirot who is asking you now. Uncle Poirot has seen a lot of such things and is very experienced. I am not trying to do him any harm. Miss. Don't you still trust me? Won't you tell me where Ralph Paton is hiding?" The girl rose to face Poirot. "Mr. Poirot," she said in a crisp voice, "I swear to you—the most solemn oath—that I know absolutely nothing about Ralph's whereabouts. Since that day, the day of the murder, I never saw him again, nor heard from him." She sat down again, and Poirot stared at her without saying a word, and after a while he tapped his hand on the table with a crisp sound. sound.

"Well, that's it," he said with a tense face, "and now I beg the rest of you here, Mrs Ackroyd, Major Brent, Dr Shepard, Mr Raymond, you all A good friend and confidant of this missing young man. If you know where Ralph Payton is hiding, please tell." No one made a sound for a long time, and Poirot looked at them one by one. "I beg you again," he whispered, "please speak up." Still no one spoke, and finally Mrs Ackroyd spoke. "I must say," said her mournful tone, "that Ralph's disappearance is very strange--very strange indeed. There must be a reason for his absence. Dear Flora, I always thought that you hadn't It is very fortunate indeed for you to be officially announcing your engagement." "Mother!" said Flora angrily. "God," said Mrs Ackroyd, "I believe in God very much--God decides our destiny--that's what Shakespeare's beautiful lines say." "You don't blame God for your thick ankles, do you? ’ asked Jeffrey Raymond jokingly, laughing out loud. I suppose he meant to ease the tension, but Mrs Ackroyd cast him a reproachful glance and produced her handkerchief. "Flora was fortunate not to be involved in this disgraceful and unpleasant affair. I always thought dear Ralph had nothing to do with poor Roger's death, and he couldn't have done it." .I'm a trusting person--I've always been a kid. I don't like to think badly of people. Of course, we remember that Ralph was hit by air raids a few times when he was a child. Some say it's bad for one's nerves. The effects are noticeable, and the effects don't show up until years later. People with this kind of nerve stimulation are not at all responsible for their actions, they can't control themselves, some things they do subconsciously." "Mom ' cried Flora, 'you don't think Ralph did it?' 'Go on, Mrs. Ackroybe,' said Brent. "I don't know what to say," said Mrs. Ackroyd, with tears in her eyes. "It's so sad. If Ralph is found guilty, I don't know what to do with the property." Raymond said viciously The chair at the table was pushed out.Major Brent remained silent, looking at her thoughtfully. "It's a bomb," said Mrs. Ackroyd stubbornly. "I can tell you that Roger has kept too much money from him—for his own good, of course. I know you all disagree with me. I do wonder at Ralph's absence. Thank God, Flora's engagement to Ralph was never publicly announced." "It will be announced tomorrow," said Flora in a clear, crisp tone. . "Flora!" Her mother was stunned by the words. Flora turned to face the secretary. "You will send notice of the engagement to the Morning Post and The Times, Mr. Raymond." "If you are convinced it is advisable to do so, Miss Ackroyd," he replied gravely. On an impulse, she turned to face Brent. "You should understand," she said, "what else can I do? Things have come to this, and I have to side with Ralph. Do you think I should?" Looking at him expectantly, he nodded suddenly after a while. Mrs Ackroyd shouted her objection.Flora still sat there quite still.That's when Raymond spoke. "I appreciate your motive, Miss Ackroyd. But don't you think it's too hasty? Let's wait a day or two." "Tomorrow," said Flora very simply, "Mother, this delay It will do no good to go down, and whatever happens, I will be true to my friend." "Mr. Poirot," begged Mrs. Ackroyd, tearfully, "won't you speak a few words?" "Nothing. All right," Brent put in, "she's doing the right thing, and I'm by her side no matter what happens." Flora held out her hand to him. "Thank you, Major Brent," she said. "Madame," said Poirot, "permit me, an old man, to congratulate you on your courage and your fidelity. If I beg you—and I beg you most sincerely—to postpone the announcement for at least two days, I do not think you will." You might have misunderstood me." Flora hesitated for a while. "It is for Ralph Paton's sake that I ask you, and it is for your own sake, Miss. You are a little reluctant, but you do not understand me. I can assure you that it will indeed do you good. .Pas de blagues (French: don't joke), since you have asked me to handle this case, don't come to hinder my work." Flora did not reply immediately, and after a few minutes she said: "I am not I'd rather put it off, but I'm willing to do as you say." She sat down again in the chair beside the table. "Well, gentlemen and ladies," said Poirot very quickly, "I will tell you what I think. I want to make everything clear, I mean the truth. Regardless of the truth How ugly it is, but it is wonderful for those who clarify the truth. I am old and my ability is not as good as before." He paused at this point, obviously expecting someone to disagree with his statement. "Probably this will be my last case. But Hercule Poirot never fails. I draw your attention, gentlemen and ladies, to my purpose of finding out whether you No matter how obstructed, I will find out the truth." He said the last sentence in a provocative tone, as if something dirty was thrown at our faces.All present were stunned by his words, except Jeffrey Raymond, who remained as cheerful as ever and was indifferent to them. "What do you mean no matter what you do?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "That's what it is, sir. Everyone in this room is hiding something from me." His angrily voice grew louder, waving his hands in the air. "Come, come, I know what I'm saying, and you may think it's trivial, trivial things--those things that don't seem to have much to do with the case, but which, in my opinion, have much to do with the solution. Each of you is hiding something. Please speak out, am I not right?" He glanced at the people at the table, and there was a hint of challenge and accusation in his sharp eyes.All the people present lowered their heads, not daring to face him, including me. "Answer me, please," said Poirot, with a somewhat unnatural laugh.He stood up from his seat. "I beg everyone in this room to tell me what is being concealed—the whole truth." The room was silent, and no one answered. "Don't you all want to say it?" He gave another short laugh. "C'est dommage (French; sorry)," he said, and left the room.