Chapter 27 Chapter 27 Witnesses

Poirot laughed suddenly, and couldn't help it.His head was thrown back, and high-pitched French laughter filled the room.He rubbed his eyes and said, "I'm sorry, ma'am, I can't help it. We're here to argue and reason! We're asking questions! We're exploring psychology—I didn't realize there was always a witness to this case. Tell me, please." Listen." "It was late, and Anne Meredith was the dreamer. She got up to look at the partner's cards, and then wandered around the room. The cards weren't very interesting that time—the conclusion was obvious. I didn't need to Concentrating on the game. The last three rounds of the game, I looked up to the fireplace. Anne Meredith was bending over Mr. Shaitana. When I looked over, she stood up -- with her hands on his chest -- - This gesture surprised me. When she stood upright, I saw her expression, and she glanced quickly in our direction, with anxiety and fear on her face. Of course, I didn't know what happened at the time. I I just couldn't figure out what the hell the little girl was doing. Then—I figured it out."

Poirot nodded. "But she doesn't know you know. She doesn't know you saw her?" Mrs. Lorrimer said, "Poor child. Young, frightened--have a long time to live in the world. Do you find it strange that I'll keep it a secret?" "No, no, I don't think it's weird." "Besides I know--myself--" She shrugged. "Of course I'm not in a position to accuse her. It's up to the police." "Yes, but you went one step further today." Mrs. Lorrimer said darkly, "I've never been a soft-hearted, compassionate woman. But you probably develop those qualities as you get older. I'm not often driven by compassion, I tell you."

"Compassion, madam, is not necessarily a safe guide. Miss Anne is young, frail, timid, frightened--oh, yes, she seems quite deserving of sympathy. But I don't feel the same way. Shall I tell you Anne, madam?" Why did Miss Meredith kill Mr. Shaitana? Because he was worthy of her former valet, and the mistress caught her stealing, and she killed her." Mrs. Lorrimer looked a little shocked. "Really, M. Poirot?" "I'm sure of it. Everyone says she's soft--gentle. Pooh! Madame, little Anne Meredith is a danger! She'll attack people treacherously and wildly for her own safety and comfort. Anne Miss won't stop with two crimes. She'll grow more and more confident."

Mrs. Lorrimer snapped: "Mr. Poirot, what you say is horrible. Terrible!" Poirot stood up. "Ma'am, I take my leave now. Think about what I said." Mrs. Lorrimer seemed indecision.She said, as much as she could, "Mr. Poirot, if I wanted to, I could deny today's conversation altogether. Remember, you can't find any witnesses. I just said what I saw that night—oh, just the two of us." Know." Poirot said solemnly: "Madame, I will not act without your consent. Don't worry, I have my own way. Now I know what to do—" He took her hand and held it to his lips.

"Ma'am, let me tell you, you are a remarkable woman. With all the utmost respect and admiration. Yes, one in a thousand. Hey, you're not even nine hundred and ninety-nine out of a thousand." Something you can't help but do." "What's up?" "You didn't say why you killed your husband--that it was perfectly justified!" Mrs. Lorrimer braced herself. She said stiffly: "Mr. Poirot, my reasons for acting are no one else's business." "Amazing!" said Poirot, raising her hand to his lips again, and stepped out the door.

It was cold outside, and he looked up and down for a taxi, but he couldn't see a single one.He walked slowly in the direction of the King's Road, thinking as he went, nodding and shaking his head now and then. He looks back.A man was coming up the steps of Mrs. Lorrimer's house, a man very much like Anne Meredith.He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should turn back, but finally he walked forward. He returns home to find that Inspector Bart has left without a message.He called the detective.Bart's voice came from the other end: "Hey, is there any gain?" "My friend, I believe there is. We've got to track down Miss Meredith--and fast."

"I'm stalking her—why so fast?" "My friend, she could be dangerous." Bart was silent for a minute or two, then said, "I know what you mean. But there's no one to send—oh, well, we can't take any chances. In fact, I've written her a letter saying tomorrow Going to see her. I want her to panic and panic." "At least it's possible. Can I go with you?" "Of course. It is an honor to travel with you, Mr. Poirot." Poirot hung up the receiver with a pensive expression on his face. He was restless, and sat for a long time in front of the fire, frowning to himself.Finally he pushed away all his doubts and went to bed. "We'll see tomorrow," he muttered.

But what happened the next morning was completely unexpected to him.