Chapter 18 CHAPTER 18 CHARLES KENT

Charles Kent Half an hour later Poirot, I and Inspector Raglan were on the Liverpool train.The inspector looked very excited. "If we don't get anything else, we can at least learn something about the blackmail," he said with a beaming smile. "From what we heard on the phone, he's a tough guy and a drug addict From him we can get what we want easily and belatedly. With the slightest motive, we can conclude that he is the most suspicious person for killing Mr. Ackroyd. Can the young man hide? The whole case is complicated. By the way, Mr. Poirot, you are right about the fingerprints. They are indeed Mr. Ackroyd's own fingerprints. I thought of that too, but then I thought it was unlikely, so I ignored it." I laughed to myself, as Inspector Raglan was obviously trying to save face.

"The fellow has not been arrested yet?" asked Poirot. "No, just detained on suspicion." "How did he justify himself?" "Barely any excuse," said the inspector with a grin. A lot, but little of substance." I was astonished to see M. Poirot greeted as soon as the train reached Liverpool.We were met by Inspector Hayes, who had worked with Poirot before, and who bragged about Poirot's ability to do it. "We can get M. Poirot to handle the case now, and it won't be long before we solve it," he said cheerfully. "I thought you were retired, sir." "Yes, my dear Mr. Well, I am indeed retired. But retirement is so boring! I can't imagine how to get through the boring day after day." "Yes, it is very boring, so you come to find out Have we found any clues? Is this Dr. Sheppard? I want you to identify this man, sir, I wonder if you can identify him." "I'm not entirely sure." said in a tone.

"How did you catch him?" asked Poirot. "You know, it's been all over the place, and I admit I don't have much to say. The guy has an American accent, and he doesn't deny that he's been around King Abbot that night. He keeps asking What business did he have with us in that place, and said that he would not answer the question until he understood our intentions." "May I also go and see that man?" asked Poirot. The inspector blinked knowingly. "We are delighted to have you with us, sir. You can do whatever you want. Inspector Japp of the Metropolitan Police asked about you the other day. He said he knew you had taken part in this unofficial This is the first cracking of the case. Can you tell me where Captain Peyton is hiding?" "I do not think it is wise to speak of it at the moment," said Poirot gravely.I wanted to laugh when I heard him say that, but I tried my best to hold myself back.

The little detective did answer very well. After some conversation, we were taken to meet the suspects in custody. The man was young, estimated to be between twenty-two and twenty-three years of age.Tall, thin, with slightly trembling hands, no trace of his former strength, now frail, with black hair and blue eyes that dodge us.I always have a hallucination in my mind: he is similar to someone I know well.If this person is indeed the person I met that night, then the image in my mind is completely wrong.He bears no resemblance to anyone I know. "Hey, Kent," said the Superintendent, "stand up, you've got people here. Do you know any of them?" Kent scowled, glaring at us, and said nothing.I saw his eyes scan the three of us back and forth several times, and finally fell on me.

"Well, sir," said the superintendent to me, "do you have anything to say?" "Around the same height," I said, "by appearance, it seems to be the same man I met that night. Besides I can't tell." "What do you mean?" Kent asked. "What grounds do you have against me? Tell me, tell me! What have I done?" I nodded. "That's him," I said, "I recognize his voice." "You recognize my voice? Where have you heard my voice before?" "Last Friday night at Fernley University Outside the courtyard gate. You asked me how to get to Fernley Court." "Did I ask you?" "You don't admit that?" asked the inspector.

"I admit nothing, and I won't admit it until you have the evidence." "Have you read all the papers these days?" asked Poirot, speaking for the first time. The guy's eyes narrowed. "Oh, that's the case you mean. I read in the papers that an old squire was slaughtered at Fernley Court. You want to prove I did it, don't you?" "That night You have been there," said Poirot quietly. "How do you know, sir?" "Here is the proof." Poirot took something from his pocket and handed it over. Here's the quill we found in the gazebo.

When he saw this thing, the guy's expression changed suddenly.His hand stretched out halfway timidly. "White powder," said Poirot thoughtfully, "no, my friend, it's empty. That's what you dropped in the gazebo that night." Charles Kent looked at him suspiciously. "It seems you know everything, you little gringo, perhaps you remember: the paper says the old squire was killed between quarter-to-past nine and ten o'clock?" "Yes." ’ replied Poirot. "Was it really killed at that time? I want to ascertain the fact." "The gentleman will tell you," said Poirot.

He pointed to Inspector Raglan. Raglan hesitated, looked up at Inspector Hayes, then at Poirot, and finally he seemed to have obtained approval before he said: "Yes, yes. Between a quarter past nine and ten." "Then there is no reason for you to keep me here," said Kent; "I left Fernley Court at twenty-five past nine, and you can go to the dog whistle." Go inquire. The Dog Whistle is a pub, just a mile from Fernley Court, on the way to Cranchester. I remember having an argument with a man there, before nine o'clock. Three quarters. How do you explain that?" Inspector Raglan made a note in his notebook.

"How?" Kent asked. "We'll look into it," said the Inspector. "If what you say is true, we'll let you go, and you don't have to whine here. Anyway, what did you do at Fernley Court?" What?" "To see someone." "Who?" "That's out of your hands." "Be gentle, young man," the superintendent warned. "You're welcome. I'm there on private business. That's why. If I've left before the murder, it's none of my business. It's all your police business." "Your name is Charles Kent, said Poirot. "Where were you born?" The fellow stared at him, then laughed.

"I'm an Englishman through and through," he said. "Yes," said Poirot, after a moment's thought, "you are English, and I suppose you were born in Kent." The fellow stared at him again. "What do you mean? Because of my name? What does it have to do with the case? Must a man named Kent have been born in Kent?" "Under certain circumstances, I think it is possible," Poirot repeated deliberately, "Under certain circumstances. I think you understand the meaning of this sentence." There was something in his words, and the two police officers stood aside wondering.And Charles Kent blushed at this.For a moment I thought he was about to throw himself at Poirot, but he collected himself, turned around, and put on a smile.

Poirot nodded, satisfied.He walked out the door, followed by two police officers. "We're going to check what he said," said Raglan, "though I think he's telling the truth. But he's going to have to explain what he did at Fernley Court. It seems to me that we're almost The blackmailer has been caught. On the other hand, even if he told the truth, he had nothing to do with the murder, but he had ten pounds with him when he was caught—a considerable sum. I think the four Ten pounds was in his hands—though the amount cannot be recovered, he may have exchanged it beforehand. Mr. Ackroyd must have given it to him, and he fled the place as quickly as possible. As for Kent What does it mean that the county is his birthplace? What does it have to do with the case?" "It doesn't matter," said Poirot kindly. People are known for playing tricks." "Is that so?" Raglan looked at him incredulously. The superintendent laughed out loud. "I've heard Inspector Japp talk about it many times, M. Poirot's little trick! He says he can't think of such a queer thing, and there's always something in him." "You're laughing at me," said Poirot. Luo smiled and said, "But it's okay, sometimes the old people are the last to laugh, and the smart young people just end up staring dumbfounded." He nodded at them seriously, and walked down the street. We both had lunch at a hotel together.I now realize that he has sorted out the whole case, and found the last clue needed to solve the mystery. But before that, I always thought he was overconfident, and I always insisted on this view.I thought to myself that what puzzled me must also puzzle him. The great mystery to me was what this fellow Charles Kent was doing at Fernley Court, a question I asked myself time and time again, but could never find a satisfactory answer to.At last I ventured to test Poirot, who answered my inquiries immediately. "Mon ami (French: my friend), I don't know either." "Really?" I doubt. "Yes, I'm telling the truth. If I said he went to Fernley Court that night because he was born in Kent, you'd think I was talking nonsense, wouldn't you?" I stared he. "The explanation does seem illogical to me," I said very dryly. "Ah!" Poirot regretted my answer. "Oh, it's okay, I have other tricks."