Chapter 19 Chapter 18 Poirot Delivers a Speech

Franklin Clark arrived the next day at three o'clock in the afternoon, and he didn't insinuate, and the conversation got right to the point. "M. Poirot," said he, "I am not satisfied." "Really, Mr. Clark?" "I have no doubt that Crome is an efficient officer, but, frankly, he tires me out. His self-righteousness. I hinted at your friend when he was still in Chesterton. I have some ideas of mine, but I have to deal with my brother's business, and I have no time until now. M. Poirot, I think we should hurry up and act..." "That's what Hastings always said!"

"Then get on with it. It's time for us to get ready for the next crime." "And you think there will be another murder?" "Don't you think so?" "of course." "Very well, then, I want to be ready." "Can you tell me what you really think?" "Monsieur Poirot, I propose to form a special group, composed of friends and relatives of those killed, to follow your orders." "Une bonne idee. "I'm glad you agreed. By working together, I feel like we might be able to grasp something. Also, when the next warning comes, one of us will be going to the crime scene. I'm not saying it's appropriate, but we can recognize Someone who appeared near the scene of the last crime."

"I understand your idea, and I agree, but you must remember, Mr. Clark, that the relatives and friends of the other victims did not live in your circle. They all had jobs, although they might have had a shorter one. Holiday--" Franklin Clark interrupted him. "That's exactly what it is. I'm the only funder. It's not that I'm extraordinarily rich, but that my brother died with a lot of money, and it's all mine in the end. As I said, I'm proposing to enroll a special group. These Members are paid the equivalent of their normal wages, plus, of course, additional fees."

"Who do you think should form the team?" "I've started the matter. In fact, I've written to Megan Barnard,--in fact, it was partly her idea. I propose to include myself, Miss Barnard. With the dead Mr. Donald Fraser, the girl engaged, and a niece of the Andover woman—Miss Barnard knew her address. I don't think that husband would be of any use to us—I heard he often Drunk. I also think the Barnards — father and mother — might be a little older for them to be involved in something like this." "Is there no one else?" "Well, Miss Gray."

When he uttered this name, his face flushed slightly. "Oh! Miss Gray?" No one in the world has put this faint irony into the word better than Poirot.He seemed thirty-five years younger than Franklin Clark, and suddenly he looked like a shy little boy. "Yes. You see, Miss Gray has been with my brother for more than two years. She knows the country, the village, and the people that live around her, and she knows everything. I myself have been away for a year and a half." Poirot felt sorry for him and changed the subject. "You went to the East? Was it in China?"

"Yes. I am responsible for this frequent travel, purchasing items for my brother." "That must be very interesting. Eh bien (French, meaning: All right. - Annotation), Mr. Clark, I very much agree with your idea. I also said to Hastings yesterday that we need a rapport with the relevant people , it is necessary to gather memory, to compare comments, and then, after matter of fact—to talk, to talk—to talk. From some frank phrases, perhaps something instructive will emerge." A few days later, this special group met at Poirot's house. They sat around, looking obediently at Poirot, who sat at the head of the table like the chairman of the board.I review each of them myself, ascertaining and revising my first impressions of them.

All three girls were stunning—Tora Gray's unusual beauty; In a black top and skirt, she has a pretty, alert face.Of the three men, Franklin Clark, tall, copper-dark, and talkative, and Donald Fraser, taciturn and rather quiet.An interesting contrast between the two. Poirot, of course, being unable to resist the occasion, made a short remark: "Ladies and gentlemen, you all know why we are here. The police are doing everything they can to track down the perpetrator. I am doing it in a different way. It seems to me that those who have a personal interest in the case , Also, I would like to say that those who have personal knowledge of the deceased may obtain results that cannot be obtained by external investigations if they meet again."

"Here we have three murders—an old lady, a young girl, and an old man, and only one thing connects them all, and that is that they were murdered by the same man. That means, The same man has been seen at three different locations, and has probably been seen by a large number of people. Needless to say, he must be a manic, terminally ill madman. It is also evident that his appearance and behavior Demeanor, it's impossible to show him. The man—although I'm talking about him, it could be a man or a woman—has the madness and cunning of a devil. So far, he's managed to cover his tracks. The police only had some vague indications, but they still couldn't act on it."

"Moreover, there must be some clear and definite signs. For example, there is something special about the murderer. He didn't arrive in Bexhill in the middle of the night and he could easily find a man with a surname beginning with B on the beach. young girl—” "Do we have to go into that?" It was Donald Fraser who was speaking, and the words came out of him with something of anguish. "It is necessary for me to look into everything, monsieur," said Poirot, turning to him. "You're not here to save your feelings by refusing to think about the details, but it's necessary to look into the matter to revisit the details. As I said, ABC didn't learn by chance that people like Betty A victim such as Barnard. He must have been deliberately selected and therefore premeditated. That is to say, he must have scouted the place beforehand. He has obtained facts such as the last time the crime was committed at Andover. Good time, the miseen scene of Bexhill, the habit of Sir Carmichael Clarke of Cheston. For my part, I cannot believe that there is no sign of— There isn't the tiniest clue - the one that would help us identify him."

"I'm assuming that someone—or, it could be all of you—knows something they don't think they know." "Because you relate things to each other, sooner or later some situations will emerge that take on special meaning that you didn't expect. It's like a jigsaw puzzle where each of you may have a piece that is obviously meaningless, but these little pieces When the pieces are reassembled, the characteristic parts of the whole picture will be revealed." "Words!" said Megan Barnard. "Huh?" Poirot looked at her questioningly. "What you just said is just words, it doesn't mean anything."

The way she speaks is very strong and I think it has something to do with her personality. "Language, madam, is only the cloak of thought." "Oh, I do think it makes sense," said Mary Dlauer. "I really do think so, madam. When you talk about things, you seem to have got your way, That's what happens a lot. Sometimes you make judgments without understanding what's going on. Talk always leads to a lot of situations in one way or another." "People say, 'Talking is bad,' we want the exact opposite here," said Franklin Clark. "What do you think, Mr. Fraser?" "I rather doubt the usefulness of your words, M. Poirot." "What do you think, Torah?" Clark asked. "I think the principle of repeated conversation will always be right." "Imagine," suggested Poirot, "that you all recount your own memories before the incident. Mr. Clark, you start first." "Let me see, I went sailing the morning Carmichael was killed. I caught eight catfish and the bay was beautiful. I ate lunch at home with Irish stew. Sleeped in a hammock and drank tea and wrote A few letters, missed the delivery time, drove to Paignton to drop the letters. Then dinner, I am not ashamed to say, I re-read a book by E. Nesbitt, as a child I like it. Then the phone rang—" "Is there anything else, Mr. Clark, and now that you think about it, did you meet anyone on your way to the beach that morning?" "There are many people." "Can you remember some of them?" "I don't remember anything." "Are you sure?" "Well, come to think of it, there's a rather fat woman—she's wearing a striped silk dress, and I wonder why she's got two small children, and two young men and a foxhound throwing stones on the beach. Oh yeah, the girl with the yellow hair screaming in the shower. Funny, how did these things come out? Like developing film." "You're off to a good start. Later that day—in the garden situation, in the post office situation?" "Gardeners watering...going to the post office? I almost ran into a cyclist and the stupid woman was hesitating and yelling at a friend. I think that's all." Poirot turned to Thora Gray. "Miss Gray?" Tora Gray answered in her clear, vivid voice. "I dealt with Sir Carmichael's mail in the morning - saw the steward. In the afternoon I think I spent ... writing letters and sewing. It's hard to recall. It was a normal day and I went to bed early .” To my surprise Poirot did not ask again.He said: "Miss Barnard, can you recall the last time you saw your sister?" "That was about two weeks before she died. I went back for Saturday and Sunday. The weather was beautiful. We went swimming in Hastings." "What do you talk about most of the time?" "I had a great chat with her," Meghan said. "Anything else? Did she say something?" "She said she was wearing a tight hat and some summer dresses. Talked a bit about Don... and she said she didn't like Millie Higley, the girl from the diner. We laughed again The Merrion who ran the restaurant... I can't remember anything else..." "Didn't she mention who she might be meeting with?—forgive me, Mr. Fraser." "She wouldn't tell me." Poirot turned to the red-haired, square-jawed young man. "Mr. Fraser—I want you to turn your mind back. You said you had been to the restaurant the night of the murder. Your first intention was to wait there and watch Betty Barnard come out. You waited there Can you remember who you noticed when you were "There were a lot of people walking around in front of me, and I can't remember any of them." "I'm sorry, but are you trying? No matter how pre-occupied the thoughts in the brain are, the eyes are always watching mechanically-without intelligence, but quite accurately..." The young man repeated stubbornly: "I don't remember anyone." Poirot sighed and turned to Marie Dlauer. "I suppose you had a letter from your aunt?" "Yes, sir." "When was the last letter?" Mary thought for a while. "Two days before the murder, sir." "What did the letter say?" "She said the old devil kept harassing her, and she pissed him off with one-liners. And she said she wanted me to come over on Wednesday, which was my holiday. She said we'd take a picture because it's my birthday, sir." Suddenly tears welled up in Mary's eyes at the thought of this little incident.She choked up sobs, then apologized. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't want to be so stupid, it's no use crying, I just thought of her, and I was looking forward to that dinner. It makes me sad, sir." "I understand how you feel," said Franklin Clark, "those little things, like a party or a present, always bring joy and peace. I once saw a woman run over by a car, and she had just bought I was surprised to see those unbelievable high-heeled sandals in the scuffed package she had left there, they looked so pathetic." Megan said with wistful warmth: "That's true, that's true. It was the same when Betty died. Mother bought some stockings for a present,--the day it happened. Poor mother, she's really broken. I saw her there Crying in front of a pile of socks. She kept saying: 'I bought it for Betty, I bought it for Betty, but she never wore it...'” Her voice trembled slightly.She leaned forward and looked directly at Franklin Clark.There was a sudden sympathy between them—caring in pain. "I know," he said, "I do know. Those are the tragic experiences that are kept in my mind." Donald Fraser moved restlessly. Thora Gray changed the subject. "Don't we make some plans for the future?" "Of course." Franklin Clark returned to normalcy. "I think that when the time comes, when the fourth letter comes, we must unite. We may have to try every luck by then, I don't know." Does M. Poirot think there is anything to re-investigate?" "I can make some suggestions," said Poirot. "Okay, I'll record it." He took out his notebook, "Please tell me, M. Poirot." "I think that waitress, Millie Higley, might know something useful." "Ah—Millie Higley," Franklin Clark recorded. "I suggest two courses of action. You, Miss Barnard, may try what I consider to be an offensive measure." "I suppose you think that suits my style?" Megan said dryly. "Arguing with that girl—saying that you know she never liked your sister, and that your sister told you all about her. If I'm not mistaken, it will set off a backlash. She'll tell you she loves your sister the entire perception! Some useful facts will emerge.” "What about the second method?" "May I suggest, Mr. Fraser, that you show some interest in the girl?" "Is that necessary?" "No, it's not necessary. It's just a possible way of inquiry." "May I try it?" asked Franklin. "I—have quite a lot of experience, M. Poirot. Let me see what I can do with this young girl." "You have your own business," said Tora Gray sharply. Franklin's face fell a little. "Yes," he said, "I have." "Tout de meme, I don't think you have anything to do at the moment," said Poirot. "As for Miss Grey, she is more suited to..." Thora Gray interrupted him. "But you know, M. Poirot, that I have left Duffshire entirely." "Oh? I don't understand." "Miss Gray was very nice, and she stayed to help me clean things up," said Franklin, "but naturally she would prefer to have a job in London." Poirot glanced sharply from one to the other. "How's Mrs. Clark?" he inquired. I was admiring Thora Gray's flushed cheeks and barely heard Clark's answer. "She is in very bad shape. By the way, M. Poirot, I am wondering if you could arrange a trip to Devon to see her? Before I left, she expressed a desire to see you. Of course, she Sometimes you don't see anyone for days, but if you want to do that, I can pay for it." "Of course, Mr. Clark. Can we go the day after tomorrow?" "Okay, I'll notify the nurse and she'll prepare the sedative accordingly." "As for you, my boy," said Poirot, turning to Mary, "I think you might do well at Andover. Try boys." "children?" "Yes. Children don't like to talk to outsiders, but you are well known in the street where your aunt lives. There are many children playing there, and they may have noticed who has been in and out of your aunt's shop." "What will Miss Gray and I do?" asked Clark, "if I don't go to Bexhill." "Mr. Poirot," said Tora Gray, "what is the postmark on the third letter?" "Putney, miss." "SW15, Putney, that's where it is, isn't it?" she recalled. "Strange to say, it was printed correctly in the newspaper." "That seems to indicate that the ABC are Londoners." "On the face of it, yes." "We should get him to talk," said Clark. "Mr. Poirot, what would happen if I placed an advertisement?—Like the following lines: ABC Urgent. Your whereabouts have been highly tracked. Pounds kept me silent. XYZ. It was a very rash thing to do—but you'll see that the idea would probably get her to talk." "It's possible—yes." "Maybe tempting him to try and hit me." "I think it's dangerous and stupid," said Tora Gray sharply. "What do you think, M. Poirot?" "It doesn't hurt to try it. I think ABC is too cunning to answer." Poirot smiled. "I suppose, Mr. Clark, you're still a child at heart, if I don't offend too much by saying so." Franklin Clark looked a little embarrassed. "Oh," he said, consulting his notebook, "we're starting. "A—Miss Barnard and Millie Higley "B—Mr. Fraser and Miss Higley "C - Children of Andover "D - Advertising "I don't think it's that great, but it's something to do while you're waiting." He stood up, and the meeting broke up after a few minutes.