Chapter 17 Section 5

"There's nothing better than a wood fire," said Colonel Johnson, adding a log to the grate, and moving his chair closer to the flame. "You are welcome," he added.Graciously draws his guests' attention to the see-through liquor cabinets and soda bottles around him. His guest politely raised a hand in refusal, and he carefully moved his chair towards the burning log, although he thought that not only would he not be able to keep out the cold wind whistling behind him, but he might also burn it. Toes, like some medieval torture.Colonel Johnson, the Midshire Constable, might think nothing is better than a fire in a hearth, but Hercule Poirot thinks central heating a thousand times better! "The Cartwright case It's amazing," commented the host, with a touch of nostalgia, "incredible man, so charming in everything he does. What the hell, when he comes with you, he makes us bow down to him, Do what you say."

He shook his head. "We've never had a case like that!" he said. "Fortunately, poisoning with nicotine is pretty rare." "Sometimes you think that all poisonings are not in the English way," said Hercule Poirot, "in a foreign way! Not flattering!" "It hardly occurred to me at all," said the chief of police, "that we have a large number of cases of arsenic poisoning—probably a lot more than we suspected." "Yes, very likely." "Poisoning cases are always an embarrassing thing," Johnson said. "Experts are giving contradictory testimony -- and doctors are usually very careful about what they say. It's always difficult to get a jury in these cases." The support of the regiment. If a man must commit murder—which God forbid, of course—give me a straight case, a clear cause of death."

Poirot nodded. "A gunshot wound, a slit throat, a squashed head? Are these your favourites?" "Oh, don't call it a favourite, my dear chap. But don't get the idea that I like murders, and I hope I don't have any more. Anyway, we should be safe enough while you're here. " Poirot said modestly: "My reputation—" But Johnson went on. "At Christmas," he said, "peace, friendship--things like that, goodwill everywhere." Leaning back in his chair, Hercule Poirot, with his hands folded, gazed thoughtfully at his master. He murmured, "Then your opinion is that evil is less likely to happen at Christmas time?"

"That's what I mean." "why?" "Why?" Johnson was a little embarrassed. "Well, like I said - Christmas is a time of food and wine and all that good stuff!" Hercule Poirot murmured: "These Englishmen, they are so sentimental!" Johnson puts it firmly: "So what if that's who we are? So what if we really like those old days - those old traditional festivals? Is there any harm in that?" "It doesn't hurt, it's very charming! But let's get some facts first. You say Christmas is a time of good wine and good looks. Does that mean eating and drinking? Which actually means , Overeating! Overeating causes indigestion! And with indigestion comes impatience!"

"Crime," said Colonel Johnson, "doesn't happen out of impatience." "That's not a good thing to say, but to put it another way, there's an air of rapprochement at Christmas, you could say, it's 'made'. The old quarrels settle down and those who were at odds agree to reconcile again, even though It's only temporary." Johnson nodded, "Yes, it's over." Poirot went on with his theory, "And those families, those whose members were scattered throughout the year, are united again. In this case, my friend, you must admit that there is a very Great pressure, people with bad tempers put a lot of pressure on themselves to be nice. There's a lot of hypocrisy at Christmas, respectable hypocrisy, pour le bon motif, c'est entendu( French: understandable for good reasons.), and a hypocrisy, but a hypocrisy anyway!"

"Anyway, I don't think so," said Colonel Johnson suspiciously. Poirot smiled at him happily. "No, no. That's my theory, not yours. I'm pointing out to you that under such circumstances—mental stress, physical discomfort—it's possible to make both minor disgust and mild Discord suddenly manifests itself very seriously. The result of pretending to be a kinder, kinder, and nobler character sooner or later affects a person's performance, making him more ill-tempered and cruel than he really is, in short. Even more unpleasant! If you hold back the natural flow of your nature, mon ami (French: my friend), sooner or later the inner dam will be flooded!"

Colonel Johnson looked at him dubiously. "Never know when you're serious and when you're kidding me," he complained. Poirot smiled at him. "I'm not serious, not at all, but it's all the same anyway, and I'm right - man-made situations bring out people's true nature." Colonel Johnson's valet entered the room. "Superintendent Sugden on the phone, sir." "Okay, I'll come." The police chief apologized and left the room. After about three minutes, he returned, serious and anxious. "Damn it!" he said. "Murder! And it's Christmas Eve!"

Poirot raised his eyebrows. "Undoubtedly? I mean murder." "Eh? Oh, there can't be any other answer. The case is perfectly clear. Murder—and a rather brutal murder!" "Who is the victim?" "Old Simeon Lee is one of the richest men we have here, early on in South Africa, gold - no, I think diamonds. He invested a fortune in a factory to make a kind of mining machinery The special widgets used in the watch, which I believe were his own invention. Anyway, he made a fortune in no time, and they say he was twice as rich as a millionaire." Poirot said: "He's very popular, isn't he?"

Johnson drawled: "I don't think anyone likes him, he's one of those weirdos. He's been crippled for a couple of years now and I'm not too hot with him myself, but he's definitely one of the big names in the county. " "Then this case, it's going to make a lot of noise?" "Yes, I must get to Lawndale as soon as possible." He hesitated, looking at his guest.Poirot answered his unspoken question: "Would you like me to accompany you?" Johnson said embarrassingly: "It seems very humbling to ask you for help, but, well, you know what it is, Superintendent Sugden is a good man, nothing could be better, hard-working, discreet, totally reliable--but , well, he's not an imaginative man in any way. With you here, and with your advice, he should be very willing."

He hesitated for a moment in his last sentence, which gave his words a somewhat telegraphic form.Poirot said at once: "I will be very glad, and I will assist you as best I can. We should not hurt the feelings of the good inspector, it is his case—not mine. I am only an unofficial adviser. " Colonel Johnson said kindly: "You are a good man, Poirot." After saying this, the two set off.