Chapter 21 Chapter 21. Major Despar

Hercule Poirot muttered: "What a woman! Poor Despar! Endure this! What a dreadful journey!" He laughed suddenly. He was walking along Brunston Road, and now he stopped to take out his watch to keep track of the time. "Yes, I happen to have time. It won't hurt to keep him waiting anyway. I can go off on another small matter. What did my friends in the British police sing--how many years--forty years ago? A Small pieces of candy for the birds." Humming to a long-forgotten song, Hercule Poirot entered a luxury shop specializing in women's clothing and accessories and made his way to the hosiery section.He found a lady who seemed to be quite sympathetic but not too proud, and explained his purpose.

"Silk stockings? Oh, we have a good stock. Silk, sure." Poirot waved his hand in refusal and used his lips again. "French pure silk stockings? You know, they're expensive with customs duties." She pulls out a bunch of new boxes. "Very well, ma'am, but I want something of better quality." "Of course. We have some special ones, but they're very, very expensive, and don't last as long as a spider's web." "That's the kind, exactly." This time the lady went for a long time. She is finally back. "Beautiful, isn't it?" She gently pulled out the most delicate, cicada-thin stockings from the tulle sleeves.

"Finally found it—exactly this one!" "Charming, isn't it? How many pairs do you want sir?" "I want—let me see, nineteen pairs." The clerk almost fainted behind the counter, but fortunately she was used to being insulted and still stood upright.She whispered, "Two dozen can be reduced." "No, I want nineteen pairs. Each pair should be a slightly different color; please." The female clerk obediently picked out the package and wrote down the sales number list. After Poirot left with the goods, the female clerk at the counter next door said: "I don't know who that lucky girl is? He must be a dirty old man. Oh, never mind, she seems to have tricked her around. Such expensive stockings, huh?" !"

Poirot did not know that the ladies of the clerk were underestimating his character and were walking slowly home. About half an hour after he entered the door, the doorbell rang.A few minutes later, Major Despar entered the room.He seemed to be struggling to contain his rage. "What are you going to see Mrs. Luxmore for?" he asked. Poirot smiled and said, "You know, I want to know the truth about Professor Luxmore's death." "Truth? You think that woman can tell any truth?" Despar demanded furiously. Poirot admitted: "Oh, I doubt it, too." "I think you would. That woman is crazy."

Poirot demurred. "Nope. She's just a romantic type." "Romantic shit. She's a complete liar. Sometimes I see her believing her lies." "Very likely." "She's creepy. I'm miserable being there with her." "I fully believe that." Desper sat down abruptly. "Listen, M. Poirot, I will tell you the truth." "You mean you're going to come up with your version?" "My statement matches the facts." Poirot made no reply.Despar continued calmly: "I know that I can't claim any credit for speaking out. I tell the truth because there is only one way. Believe it or not. I can't prove that my statement is the most correct."

He was silent for a minute before speaking. "I arranged for Mr. and Mrs. Ruxmore. He's a nice old man, quite fascinated by mosses and plants of all kinds. And she's—well, you've seen what kind of person she is! The journey was a nightmare. I didn't like that woman at all--in fact quite hated her. She was so warm that it kept embarrassing me. Nothing was wrong for the first two weeks. Then we both got a fever. She and I were less ill. Luke Old Man Small was serious. One night—now you gotta listen—I was sitting outside my tent when I saw old Ruxmore walking away to the bushes by the river. He was in a daze with a fever, Unaware of his own actions. He was about to fall into the river. If he fell into the river at that point, he would be drowned. No risk. There is only one way to save him if there is no time to run. My rifle is by my side as usual I grabbed my gun. I was pretty good with the shot and I was confident I could hit the old man in the leg. I was about to shoot when that idiot woman jumped on top of me and yelled don't shoot, don't shoot. She grabbed my arm, pulled it lightly, and the gun shot out--the bullet hit him in the back, and he was shot dead!

"Tell you, the situation is terrible. That stupid woman doesn't know she got into trouble. She doesn't know that she is responsible for her husband's death, but she is convinced that I deliberately killed the old man-because I love her, don't you think it's strange! It was so bad that she insisted on announcing that he had a fever and died. I felt sorry for her, seeing that she didn't know that she had caused trouble, and I was sad for her. But he must figure it out when the truth is told. And she is 100% sure that I am in love with her, It made me miserable. It would be bad if she went around shouting like that. At last I agreed to do what she wanted--I confess, to try to get some peace. Fever or accidental death didn't make much difference after all. Although the woman was a genius I can't bear to drag her to face all kinds of unpleasant experiences. The next day I announced that the professor died of a fever, and we held a funeral for him. Of course the corpse bearers know the truth, but they are very loyal to me, and I will say something when necessary They all testified under oath. We buried Professor Ruxmore and returned to civilization. I took a lot of trouble to avoid that woman after that."

He stopped, and then said quietly: "Mr. Poirot, here is my report." Poirot said slowly: "That's what Mr. Shaitana was talking about at the dinner that night, or at least you thought so?" Desper nodded. "He must have heard it from Mrs. Ruxmore. It would have been easy to trick her into it. And he must have found it amusing." "This story in the hands of someone like Mr. Shaitana - for you - could be very dangerous." Desper shrugged. "I'm not afraid of Shaitana." Poirot made no reply.Desper said quietly, "You'll have to take my word for it on that too. Yes, I have reason to want Shaitana dead. Well, the truth is out; believe it or not."

Poirot held out a hand. "Major Despar, I believe it. I believe the incident in South America is exactly what you say." Desper beamed, and said succinctly, "Thank you." He shook Poirot's hand warmly.