Chapter 8 Who did it in Chapter Eight?

Bart gazed at each face, one by one.Only one person answered his question.Mrs. Oliver, who never disliked having an opinion, said it right away. "Girl or doctor," she said. Bart looked at the other two with inquiring eyes.Neither was willing to comment.Reese shook his head.Poirot carefully smoothed out the crumpled bridge score sheet. Bart said, "One of them did it. One of them lied big. Which one? It wasn't easy—oh, it wasn't easy." He was silent for a minute or two before he said: "If we'll take their word for it, the doctor thinks Despar did it, Despers thinks it's the doctor, the girl thinks Mrs. Lorrimer did it -- Mrs. Lorrimer won't." Say! No illuminating clues."

"Perhaps not," said Poirot. Bart glanced at him quickly. "You think so?" Poirot waved his hand. "Small differences—nothing! Nothing to prove." Bart went on: "You two won't say what's on your mind—" "No evidence," Reese replied curtly. Mrs. Oliver despised the silence, and sighed, "Oh, you men!" Bart said, "Let's take a look at the rough possibilities." He thought about it for a minute. "I think I'm going to put the doctor first. The honest type. Knows where to insert the dagger. But that's all there is to it. Next is Desper. He's a gutsy fighter A person who is used to making quick decisions and is good at doing dangerous things. Mrs. Lorrimer? She is also very courageous, and there may have been secrets in her life. She seems to have been in trouble. But on the other hand, I daresay she was a woman of high morals--enough to be headmaster of a girls' school. It's hard to imagine her stabbing anybody. In fact, I don't think she did it. And finally there's little Miss Meredith. She doesn't know anything. She's like a normal, pretty, shy girl. But as I said, nobody knows anything about her."

"We know that Mr. Shaitana believes that she has killed someone," said Poirot. "The face of an angel hides the face of a devil," mused Mrs. Oliver. "Bart, does this give us any clues?" Colonel Race asked. "Sir, do you think speculation is useless? Well, speculation is necessary in such cases." "Wouldn't it be better to look up the profiles of these people?" Bart smiled. "Oh, we'll try to investigate. I think you can assist us with that." "Of course. How to find out?" "About Major Desper: He travels a lot—to South America, East Africa, South Africa—and you have a way of scouting those areas. You can get information on him." Reese nodded.

"It can be done. I'll try to get as much information as I can." Mrs. Oliver exclaimed: "Oh, I have a plan. There are four of us--four detectives, so to speak--and they are four! How about we catch one at a time? Colonel Race for Major Despard, Bart The Inspector has Dr. Roberts. I've got Anne Meredith, Poirot Mrs. Lorrimer. We've gone our separate ways!" Inspector Bart shook his head. "No, Mrs. Oliver. You know it's business, and I'm in charge. I've got to investigate all the leads. Besides, it's too nice to say what you like. Maybe two people want to chase the same horse! Colonel Race didn't Says he suspects Major Despar. Mr Poirot probably doesn't think it's Mrs Lorrimer."

Mrs. Oliver sighed. She sighed regretfully: "This plan is very good, clean and neat." Then she cheered up again. "But you have no objection to my doing a little research of my own?" Inspector Bart said slowly: "No, I cannot express objection. In fact, I have no right to object. You can naturally take actions that you are curious or interested in attending the banquet tonight. But Mrs. Oliver, I Mind you, you'd better be careful" Mrs. Oliver said: "Be absolutely careful. I won't confide--a word--" She broke off feebly. Hercule Poirot said: "I don't think Inspector Bart meant that. He meant that the fellow you're dealing with may have killed a man twice - he wouldn't hesitate to kill a third time if he felt the need." ."

Mrs. Oliver looked at him thoughtfully, and then smiled--a pleasing, charming smile, like a brash child.She quoted someone else as saying: "We warned you beforehand." Then, "Thank you, Mr. Poirot, I will play my game carefully. But I will not withdraw from the operation." Belarus bowed gracefully. "Let me just say a word—ma'am, you're a gambler." Mrs. Oliver sat up straight, and said in the tone of a business commissioner meeting a manager: "I think that all the information we gather must be public-that is, what we know must not be kept private. Of course, our inferences and impressions Right to stay."

Inspector Bart sighed. He said, "Mrs. Oliver, this is not a detective story." "Of course all information has to go to the police," Reiss said. He finished the sentence in the tone of "regimental department" and said with a wink: "Mrs. Oliver, I believe you will act aboveboard. Bloody gloves, fingerprints on the mouthwash cup, burned scraps of paper...you'll give them to Bart." Mrs. Oliver said, "Go ahead and make fun of it, but women's intuition—" She nodded decisively. Reese stood up. "I'll investigate Desper for you. It might take a while. What else can I do?"

"I don't think so, thank you, sir. Don't you take a hint? I value things like that." "Hmmm. Well--I'm particularly on the lookout for shootings, poisonings, or accidents, but I thought you'd progressed toward that." "I've made a note of that—yes, sir." "Well, Bart. You don't need my advice on your case. Good night, Mrs. Oliver. Good night, Mr. Poirot." Colonel Race gave Bart a final nod, and left the room. "Who is he?" asked Mrs. Oliver. Butt said, "Great military record. Travels a lot. There's not much in the world he doesn't know."

Mrs. Oliver said, "Spy, I guess. I know you can't tell me, but if it wasn't, the master wouldn't have invited him to-night. Four murderers and four detectives--one from Scotland Yard, one spy." , a private eye, and a detective novelist. What a clever idea." Poirot shook his head. "You're wrong, ma'am. It's a stupid idea. The tiger panics—the tiger pounces." "Tiger? Why tiger?" "By tiger I mean murderer," said Poirot. Barthes said bluntly, "Mr. Poirot, what course do you think we should take? That is one of the problems. I would also like to know what you think of the psychology of these four people. You are quite enthusiastic about this."

Poirot, still on the bridge score sheet, said: "You're right, psychology matters. We know what kind of murder a murderer committed, and in what way. If we find someone psychologically From the point of view, it is impossible to commit this particular type of case, so we can eliminate him and not count. We know these people a little bit. We have made a certain impression on them; know the route each chose; Knowing the characteristics of their playing cards, studying their handwriting and scoring methods, so as to gain some understanding of their minds and characteristics. What a pity! It is not easy to declare the results clearly. This murder requires courage and courage— - Those who are willing to take risks can do it.

"Well, we have Dr. Roberts on our list--he bluffs, bids too high, and believes in his ability to get the job done right. His mentality fits the case quite well. We might say , Miss Meredith's suspicions are automatically erased. She is timid, afraid of calling too much, cautious, economical, prudent, lacking in self-confidence--the least likely to engage in a bold and risky surprise attack. But A cowardly man will kill out of fear. A panicked and nervous man, cornered, will be as desperate as a mouse in a corner. If Miss Meredith has ever committed a crime before, if she believes that Mr. Shaitana knows the Act If she is going to hand her over to the law, she will go crazy with fright; she will do whatever it takes to protect herself. The result is the same, but the reaction process is different—not calm and brave, but crazy with despair. "And look at Major Despar--a calm, resourceful man who would try a long-range shot if he believed it was necessary. He weighed the odds against it, and probably decided he had a chance to win--he was A man who likes action and dislikes idleness, he is not afraid to take a risky course if he is sure that there is a fair chance of success. Finally there is Mrs. Lorrimer, an old woman, but full of intelligence and ability. Mathematical mind. She probably has the best brains of the four. If Mrs. Lorrimer commits a crime, I expect it to be premeditated. I can imagine her slowly and carefully planning a crime, making sure her plan is flawless. For this reason, I always felt that she was less likely than the other three. But she is a dominant person, and whatever she does, she can probably do it perfectly. She is a very efficient woman." He Pause for a moment. "So you see, this isn't much help. No—there's only one way to find out about this case. We've got to go back." Bart sighed, and muttered, "You said it." "In Mr. Shaitana's opinion, all four of them committed crimes. Does he have evidence? Or guesswork? We dare not say. I don't think he has any definite evidence in four cases—" Bart nodded and said, "I agree with you in this aspect. If so, it would be a coincidence." "I think that's how it happened—people were talking about murder or a certain type of murder, and Mr. Shaitana happened to notice someone's expression. He was very sensitive—sensitive to expressions. He felt that the experiment Very interesting, might as well probe lightly in a conversation without a goal; he pays attention to whether the other party is dodging, whether he has reservations, whether he wants to change the subject. Oh, it is not difficult. If you doubt a certain secret, you have to prove your doubts It couldn't be easier. Every time a word hits the mark, you notice it -- if you're paying attention to the reaction." Bart nodded, "Such a trick our late friend must have found amused." "Then let's assume that's how one or two cases were discovered. He may occasionally touch upon real evidence in another case, and follow up. I doubt whether he has sufficient and definite knowledge of any one case--sufficient." Report it to the police or something." Bart said, "Maybe not. There's always something fishy -- we suspect fraud but can never prove it. The route is clear anyway. Let's check all the records on these guys first -- note the implications. A special death. I think you, like the Colonel, noticed what Shaitana said at the dinner." Mrs. Oliver murmured, "The Black Angel." "There's a short passage about poison, accidents, a doctor's chance, a missed shot...etc. I wouldn't be surprised if he signed his own death warrant while saying that." "That passage is annoying," said Mrs. Oliver. Poirot said: "Yes. These words at least hit the dead man's heart--the man presumably thought that Shaitana knew far more than he actually did. The listener thought these words were the prelude to the end--Siatta Nat specially arranged a splendid banquet, culminating in the arrest of the murderer! Yes, you are right, he signed his own death warrant by saying these words to amuse the guests." Everyone was silent for a moment. Bart sighed, "It's long-distance work. We can't ascertain the information we need right away—we have to be careful. We don't want any of the four to think we're doing it. Don't let them suspect that we know the motive of the crime. The sad thing is that we should not only investigate one past murder, but four." Poirot demurred. "Our friend, Mr. Shaitana, is not absolutely infallible. He may -- may -- be wrong," he said. "Get all four wrong?" "No—he's not that stupid." "Maybe it's half right and half wrong?" "Not quite. I mean maybe one out of four is wrong." "One innocent and three guilty? That sucks. The bad thing is we might not be of any use if we learn the truth. Even if someone pushed the old aunt down the stairs years ago, how does it help us solve the case today?" Poirot encouraged him: "Yes, yes, it will help us. You know it. You and I know it." Bart nodded slowly. He said, "I know what you mean. Same test." Mrs. Oliver said: "You mean that the former dead were also stabbed with daggers?" Bart turned to her and said, "Not so superficial, Mrs. Oliver. But I believe it's basically the same type of crime. The details may be different, but the underlying elements are the same. Strange to say, every time it's committed because of that." and revealed the secret." Hercule Poirot said, "Man is an uncreative animal." Mrs. Oliver said: "Women can change in a thousand ways. I would never commit the same type of murder twice in a row." Bart asked, "Haven't you ever written the same story twice?" Poirot said in a low voice: "The Murder of the Nessium and The Clue of the Candle." Mrs. Oliver turned to him, her eyes shining with admiration. "You're so smart—you're so smart. Of course the plots of the two cases are the same, but no one else can see it. One is the theft of documents at a cabinet weekend banquet, and the other is a murder at the home of a rubber farmer in Borneo." Poirot said: "But the point of the story is the same. It is one of the neatest tricks you have written. The rubber farmer arranges his own murder; the cabinet minister arranges his own document theft. At the last moment, a third person stepped in and made the deception a success. real." Inspector Bart said politely: "Mrs. Oliver, I admire your latest book. The inspector's supervisor was shot at the same time. You only made one or two mistakes in describing official details. I know you like precision. , so I don't know if—" Mrs. Oliver interrupted him. "Actually, I don't care whether it is accurate or not. Who pays attention to accuracy? No one can do it today. If a reporter describes: A twenty-two-year-old beauty looks at the sea and kisses her beloved Labrador dog Bao goodbye Bo, and then turned on the gas to commit suicide. Who would make a fuss and say that the girl is actually 26 years old, the room is facing the land, and the dog is a West Asian Han dog named Bonnie? If even a reporter can do this, then I What does it matter if the class of the police is mistaken, if you want to say an automatic pistol, you say a revolver, when you want to say a phonograph, you say a listening device, if the book uses a poison that kills only half a sentence from the victim? "What really matters is a lot of dead bodies! If the content is a bit dull, add more blood to make it suspiciously vivid. Someone is about to say something-die before he says it! This is often a good idea. Every one of my works. Come to this set—of course, it has been modified in different ways. Readers like the poison whose source cannot be found out, like the stupid policeman and the girl tied up in the cellar, and the gas sewage from the sewer is poured in, like this troublesome way of killing, Like a hero who can single-handedly take on three to seven villains. I've written thirty-two books—Mr. It's a pity that the detective in the pen is written as a Finn. Actually, I don't know anything about Finns. I often receive letters from Finns saying that something that the protagonist says and does is unbelievable. Finns seem to like reading detective novels. I I guess it's because of the long winter without sunlight. Belgians and Romanians don't seem to read it at all. It might be better if I write him as a Belgian." She stopped abruptly. She is beaming. "I'm sorry, I'll keep my words to myself. This is a real murder, and it would be nice if the dead wasn't killed by any of them. If he invites everyone to come, and then quietly kills himself to create chaos." for fun..." Poirot nodded approvingly: "The fascinating ending is so neat and ironic. But Mr. Shaitana is not that kind of person. He cherishes life very much." Mrs. Oliver said slowly, "I don't think he's a good fellow." Poirot said, "He's not good, yes. But he was alive, and now he's dead. I told him once that I have a vulgar view of murder. I don't approve of such things." He added softly: "So——I plan to enter the tiger's den."