Chapter 36 Chapter 35 Ending

When the door closed behind Franklin Clark, I laughed hysterically - sorry to narrate. Poirot looked at me with a little surprise. "It's because you're not fair to tell him about his crime," I gasped. "That's quite right. It's disgusting - not out of murdering one's own brother, but the cruelty of condemning a sorry fellow to hell. Catch the fox and put him in a cage Don't let him get away again! That's not a fair game!" Megan Barnard sighed deeply. "I can't believe this—I can't. Is it real?" "Yes, miss. The nightmare is over."

She looked at him, her face getting darker. Poirot turned to Fraser. "Miss Megan has always had a fear that the second murder was done by you." Donald Fraser said quietly: "I used to think so too." "Is it because of your dream?" He moved a little closer to the young man, lowering his voice secretly. "Your dream has a very natural interpretation. At that time, because you found that the image of your sister faded in your mind, it was replaced by another sister. In your mind, Miss Megan took her place. Sister, but since you cannot bear yourself to be unfaithful to the dead so soon, you struggle to kill the idea, to eradicate it! This is the interpretation of that dream."

Fraser's eyes flicked to Megan. "Don't be afraid to forget," said Poirot gently. "She is not so worth remembering. In Megan Barnard, you can find it-un coeur magnifique (French, meaning: a wonderful heart. ——Annotation)!" Donald Fraser's eyes lit up. "I believe you are right." We all surrounded Poirot asking questions, asking him to answer such and such questions. "Those questions, Poirot? Are there any meanings in the questions you ask everybody?" "Some problems are simplememt une blague (French, meaning: just kidding. - Annotation). But learned what I wanted to know - when the first letter was sent, Franklin Clark happened to be in London, and I also wanted to see Tora Gray's face when I questioned him. He was off guard, and I caught a glimpse of malice and anger in his eyes."

"You have no regard for my feelings," said Tora Gray. "I do not expect you to give me a true answer, madam," said Poirot icily, "and now, your second hope has failed, that Franklin Clark will no longer inherit his brother's money. " She looked up suddenly. "Is there any need for me to stay here and suffer insult?" "It's not necessary," said Poirot, opening the door politely for her. "That fingerprint is very convincing, Poirot," I mused. "He breaks down when you mention it." "Yes, those fingerprints do work."

He added thoughtfully: "I made up those words to please you, my friend." "But, Poirot," I cried, "is it not true?" "Not at all, mon ami," said Hercule Poirot. I must mention that a few days later we were visited by Alexander Bonaparte Castells.He squeezed Poirot's hand tightly, and tried to thank Poirot very incoherently. Castor stopped and said: "You know, there's a newspaper that's offered a hundred pounds, a hundred pounds—for me to tell my life and history briefly. I—I really don't know what to do." "I'm not going to accept a hundred pounds," said Poirot. "Be firm. Tell them five hundred pounds is your price, and don't limit yourself to just one newspaper."

"Do you really think—I can—" "You have to realize," said Poirot, smiling, "that you are a famous man, indeed the most famous man in England at the moment." Mr. Custer stopped again, a flash of joy flashing across his face. "You know, I'm sure you're right! Famous! In all the papers. I'll take your advice, M. Poirot. The fee must be the most appropriate—the most appropriate. I'm going A few days off ... and then I'm going to give Lily Marbury a fine wedding present—she's a lovely girl—a real lovely girl, M. Poirot." Poirot patted him on the shoulder encouragingly.

"You're right, have a good time. Another word, how about seeing an eye doctor? Those headaches, maybe because you need a new pair of glasses." "Do you think that's always been the case?" "yes." Mr Cust shook his hand warmly. "You are a great man, M. Poirot." As usual, Poirot did not ignore the compliment, he did not even appear modest. My old friend smiled at me when Castor swaggered out the door. "So, Hastings, we've cracked another case, haven't we? Vive le sport."