Chapter 27 Chapter Twenty-Six (not from Captain Hastings' autobiography)

Inspector Crome was listening to Mr Leadbetter's excited account. "Inspector, my heart stops for a moment when I think about it. He must have been sitting next to me throughout the show." Inspector Crome, quite indifferent to the state of Mr Leadbetter's heartbeat, said: "Please let me be clear. Near the end of the film, the man left his seat and went out—" "That's The Bird of a Bird, starring Catherine Royal," muttered Mr. Leadbetter automatically. "He passed you, staggering—" "He was pretending to stumble, I understand now. Then he leaned over the front seat to pick up the hat. That's when he must have stabbed the poor fellow."

"Did you hear anything? Shouts? Moans?" Mr Leadbetter heard nothing but Catherine Royal's high, hoarse accent.But he still vividly fabricated a groan based on his imagination. Inspector Crome paid superficial attention to the groan, and bade him go on. "And then he went out—" "Can you describe what he looked like?" "He's a big man. At least six feet, a tall man." "Fair or dark?" "I—hey—I'm not sure. I think he's bald, and he's a grim-looking fellow." "He doesn't walk with a limp, does he?" asked Inspector Crome.

"Yes, yes, you're right, I think he's crippled. He's very dark and may be of mixed race." "Was he in his seat when the lights were still on in the theater?" "No. He came in after the movie started." Inspector Crome nodded, handed Mr Leadbetter a statement to sign, and sent him off. "That's one of the worst witnesses you'll ever meet," he remarked pessimistically. "What he said was only illuminating. He had no idea of ​​what our murderer looked like, That's clear. Let's call theater security." The security guard, a tall, military man, came in and stood at attention, his eyes fixed on Colonel Anderson.

"Now, Jameson, let us hear your description." "Yes, sir. At the end of the movie, sir, I was told that a gentleman fell ill, and the man was sitting in the low-fare seating area, slumped in the seat. Others were standing around. The man watched It looked bad, sir. One of the men around put their hand on the man's clothes, and that caught my attention. It was blood, sir. The man was clearly dead—assassinated, sir. .Hoping to do the right thing, I didn't touch him, but immediately reported the tragedy to the police." "Very well, Jameson, you are quite right."

"Thank you, sir." "Before that, about five minutes, did you notice a man leave the low-fare seating area?" "There are several, sir." "Can you describe it?" "I'm afraid not, sir. There's a Mr. Geoffrey Parnell. There's a young man, Sam Baker, with his young lady. I don't notice anyone else in particular." "What a pity. These will help, Jameson." "Yes, sir." The theater guard saluted and left. "We have the details of the autopsy," said Colonel Anderson. "We'd better speak to the man who found him."

A policeman comes in and salutes. "Here comes Hercule Poirot, sir, and another gentleman." Inspector Crome frowned. "Oh, well," he said, "I think it's best to let them in."