Chapter 16 Chapter Fifteen Sir Carmichael Clarke

Chesterton, halfway between Brixham and Pineton and Torquay on the other side, is halfway up the curve of Torquay's bay.Until about ten years ago it was a golf course, and below it was a stretch of grassy country stretching down to the sea, with an occasional inhabited farm house or two in between.In recent years, there has been some major construction development between Chessington and Pineton, and now there are small farmhouses and bungalows, newly built roads, etc. along the coast. Sir Carmichael Clarke bought about two acres of land here, which has uninterrupted sea views.The house he bought had a modern design—the white rectangle was a bit of a bummer.The house was not very large, except for two large rooms where his collection was housed, which were used as showrooms.

We got there around eight o'clock in the morning and a local police officer picked us up at the station and gave us an overview of the situation. Sir Carmichael Clarke seemed to have acquired the habit of going out for a walk after supper, and he had not returned home when the police called—it was about eleven o'clock.As he was always punctual in his walks, a search party soon discovered his body.His death was caused by someone hitting the back of the head with a heavy object.There was an open ABC Railroad guidebook lying face down next to the body. We arrived at Compeside (that was the name of the house) about eight o'clock.The person who opened the door was an elderly butler. His hands were trembling and his expression was mournful. It was obvious that this tragedy had hit him hard.

"Good morning, Devrier," said the inspector. "Good morning, Mr. Wells." "These are gentlemen from London, Devrier." "This way, gentlemen." He beckoned us into a long breakfast room. "I'll call Mr. Franklin." A minute or two later, a tall, blond man with a tanned face entered the room. He displayed a gritty, capable style and was a man who could handle emergencies. "Good morning, gentlemen." Inspector Wells made an introduction. "This is Inspector Crome of the Royal Police, Mr Hercule Poirot and - er - Mr Hattle."

"Hastings," I corrected coldly. Franklin Clark shook hands with each of us in turn.Every time we shook hands, he looked at us with insightful eyes. "I'll treat you to breakfast," he said. "We can talk while we eat." No one objected, and we immediately slurped down the beautifully cooked eggs, bacon and coffee. "Now," said Franklin Clark, "Inspector Wells has given me a general account of what happened last night—even so, it is one of the wildest stories I have ever heard. Crowe Inspector Tom, do I really want to believe that my poor brother was the victim of a murderous maniac. This is the third homicide that has occurred, and in each case an ABC Railway Guide book was placed on the body on the side?"

"That is the case, Mr. Clark." "But why? In the most morbid imaginings, what good can such a crime do?" Poirot nodded his approval. "You really hit the nail on the head, Mr. Franklin," he said. "The motives for crimes cannot be ascertained at this time, Mr Clarke," said Inspector Crome, "that is the business of psychiatrists—though I can say that I have had some experience with criminal insanity, and that the motives are generally insufficient. Criminals will always have the desire to express their individuality, to be a sensation in the public eye—indeed, to be a big shot rather than an insignificant."

"M. Poirot, is that right?" Clark looked skeptical.His inquiries to the elder did not seem to be favored by Inspector Crome, and he frowned. "Indeed," replied my friend. "In any case, such a person will not go unpunished for a long time." Clark said thoughtfully. "Vous croyez? Ah, but they're cunning—ces gens la! And you must bear in mind that such people usually have insignificant external features—he's one of those people who are usually omitted, ignored, and even laughed at. That kind of people!" ① French, meaning: Do you believe it. ——Annotation.

②French, meaning: Are these people? ——Annotation. "Can you tell me something, Mr. Clark." Crome interrupted suddenly. "of course can." "I wonder if your brother's physical and mental condition was normal yesterday? Did he receive any unexpected letters? Was nothing disturbing him?" "No. I must say he is quite the same as usual." "I'm not feeling irritable or anxious." "I'm sorry, Inspector. I didn't say that. My poor brother is usually quite irritable and anxious." "Why is that?" "You probably don't know my sister-in-law, Mrs. Clarke. She's in very bad health and, frankly, between us, she's got terminal cancer and won't live very long. Her condition makes my brother Worried. I myself was not long back from the East, and I was astounded when I saw the change in him."

Poirot interrupted with a question. "Just imagine, Mr. Clark, if your brother was shot at the bottom of a cliff—or left a revolver next to his body, what would be your first reaction?" "Frankly, I'd come to the conclusion that it was suicide," Clark said. "Encore!" said Poirot. ③ French, meaning: not only that. ——Annotation. "What's the meaning?" "It's no big deal to repeat a fact." "Anyway, it's not a suicide this time." Crome said with a hint of sloppiness. "Now I believe, Mr. Clark, that your brother has developed the habit of going out for a walk every night."

"Yes, he always does." "Do you go every night?" "Well, of course he doesn't go when it's raining heavily." "Does everyone in this house know about this habit?" "certainly." "Do people outside know?" "I don't quite understand who the people outside you mean. I don't know if the gardener understands this habit." "What about the people in the village?" "Strictly speaking, we don't have a village. There's a post office and some cottages at Cheston Ferris - but no village or shop."

"I guess, if a stranger walks here, he will be easily noticed by others?" "Quite the opposite. In August the place is filled with a rowdy crowd of strangers. They come every day from Brixham, Torquay and Pineton in wagons, carts or on foot. There's a bro De Sands (he points in that direction), is a popular beach, and so is Elbury Bay - a famous sight, people go there for dinner. I wish they didn't! You It must be impossible to imagine how beautiful and peaceful this place is in June and early July!" "So you think a stranger goes unnoticed?" "Unless he looks weird."

"This man doesn't look out of the ordinary," said Crome confidently. "You know what I mean. This man must have inspected the place beforehand and discovered your brother's habit of walking every night. By the way , I suppose, that no stranger came to the house yesterday to see Sir Carmichael." "I don't know. We can ask Devrill." He rang the bell, asking questions like an old butler. "No, sir, Sir Carmichael was never called. I didn't see anyone hanging about the house, and the maids didn't know, because I asked them." The butler waited for a while, then asked, "Is that all, sir?" "Yes, Devrill, you can go." The butler backed out, stepping back at the door to let a young lady into the room. Franklin Clark stood up as she entered the room. "This is Miss Gray, gentlemen, and she is my brother's secretary." This girl has a very Scandinavian vibe and my attention was immediately captured by her.She had almost colorless gray hair and light gray eyes, and had that clear, radiant fair complexion one might find among Norwegians and Swedes.She looked twenty-seven, as bright as she was dressed. "What can I do for you?" she said, sitting down. Clark brought her a cup of coffee, but she refused any food. "Do you handle Sir Carmichael's mail?" asked Crome. "Yes, all mail." "I guess he never got the letter signed ABC." "ABC?" She shook her head. "No, I'm sure he hasn't received such a letter." "Didn't he mention recently that he saw someone loitering on his evening walks?" "No. He never mentioned the situation." "Didn't really see anyone hanging out. Of course, there's a lot of people out there this season, you might say. One can often come across people strolling with aimless faces across the golf course. The ballpark, down the aisle, straight to the beach. Also, virtually everyone you see at this time of year is a stranger." Poirot nodded thoughtfully. Inspector Crome asked to be taken to see Sir Carmichael's evening walks.Franklin Clark led us through the French windows, and Miss Gray accompanied us. He and I quietly trailed behind the others. "All this must have been a terrible blow to you," I said. "It looked unbelievable. I was in bed when the police called yesterday. I heard voices downstairs and finally ran out to ask what was going on. Devrier and Mr. Clarke were discussing it under the lights." ..." "What time does Sir Carmichael usually return from his walk?" "About a quarter to ten. He used to come in by the wicket, and then sometimes he went straight to the bedroom to sleep, and sometimes to the showroom where the collection was. That's why it was possible that he wasn't seen until the morning when they called him." The cause of discovery, unless the police call." "It must have been a terrible blow to his wife?" "Mrs. Clark was kept afloat on a lot of morphine. She was too weak, I think, to take what was going on around her." We were out of the garden gate and continued on to the golf course.After rounding a corner of the course, we passed through a turnstile and onto a precipitous, winding path. "This road leads to El Bully Bay," explained Franklin Clarke, "but two years ago they built a new road from the main road to Broadshan and then to El Bully Bay, so the trail is now effectively abandoned." We go down the path.At the bottom of the path was a path, lined with brambles and ferns, that led down to the sea.In an instant, we were on a grassy ridge overlooking the sea and a gleaming white pebble beach.Surrounded by dark green trees, the woods extend all the way to the coast.The scenery of this place is breathtaking - white, dark green and sapphire blue. "This is so charming," I exclaimed. Clark turned to me eagerly. "Isn't it? Why do people go to Vieira ④, can they come here! I have traveled all over the world in my life. I can swear to God, I have never seen such a beautiful place." ④Southeastern France and holiday resorts along the Mediterranean Sea in northern Italy. ——Annotation. Then, though a little ashamed of his eagerness, he said in a flat tone: "This is where my brother takes his nightly walks. He goes this far and then back down the trail, through farms and fields and back home." We went on and came to a place in the middle of the field by the hedge where the body had been found. Crom nodded. "It's so easy. That man stands here in the shadows, and your brother won't notice anything until the attack comes." The girl next to me suddenly trembled. Franklin Clark said: "Be strong, Torah. It's a brutal thing, but there's no need to keep your mouth shut about the facts." Thora Gray--that's a pretty good name for her. We walked back to the house, where the body had been taken and taken back. As we stepped up the wide staircase, the doctor came out of the room, black bag in hand. "Is there anything you can tell us, doctor?" Clark asked. The doctor shook his head. "It's an extremely simple case. I'll save the technical details of the autopsy. In any case, he didn't feel any pain. He died probably in an instant." he left. "I'm going to see Mrs. Clark." A nurse comes out of the room and walks down the corridor, the doctor walking beside her. We went into the room where the doctor had just come out. I came out very quickly, and Thora Gray was still standing at the end of the stairs. There was a strange frightened look on her face. "Miss Gray—" I stopped, "what's the matter?" She looks at me. "I was thinking," she said, "about D." "About D?" I looked at her awkwardly. "Yes. Next murder. We've got to do something. It's got to stop." Clark came out of the room behind me. "What has to stop, Torah?" "These horrible murders." "Yes." His jaw stretched out excessively, "I want to find time to chat with Mr. Poirot... Mr. Crome, can he do it?" His tone was sincere and unexpected. I replied that Crome was a very clever officer. My voice may not seem so enthusiastic. "His attitude is fucking annoying," Clark said. "Like he knows everything, what does he know? As far as I know, he doesn't know anything." He was silent for a while, then said: "M. Poirot is worth my money. I have my own plans, and we will talk about it later." He went down the passage and knocked at the door through which the doctor had entered. I hesitated for a while.The girl stared ahead. "What are you thinking, Miss Gray?" She turned her eyes to me. "I wonder where he is now... I mean, the murderer. It's been less than twelve hours since the incident... Oh, is there any real visionary who can see where he is now, and where he is Do something……" "The police are searching—" I began. My usual words broke the silence.Thora Gray pulled herself together. "Yes," she said, "of course." Then she came down the stairs, and I stood there for a while, keeping her words in my head. ABC... where is he now