Chapter 13 Chapter Thirteen

Poirot seldom used a key to enter his house. He rang the bell in the old-fashioned way and waited for his trusty page, George, to answer it. However, at this moment, when he came back from a hospital visitor, it was Miss Li Meng who opened the door. "You have two visitors," said Miss Lemon, in a very pleasant voice, not a whisper, but a few notes lower than usual. "One is Mr. Gobbe, and the other is an old gentleman named Roderick Horsfield. I wonder which one you want to see first?" "Sir Roderick Horsfield," said Poirot thoughtfully.He was doing this with his head on one side, a bit of a robin, judging how this latest development might affect the whole thing.However, at this time, Mr. Gao Bi suddenly appeared from the small room dedicated to Miss Li Meng's typing as usual. Obviously, she had arranged him there earlier.

Poirot took off his overcoat, which Miss Lemon hung for him on a coat-rack in the passage. According to his habit, Mr. Gao Bi spoke to the back of Miss Li Meng's head this time. "I'll go to the kitchen and have a cup of tea with George," said Mr. Gobbe. "My time is mine, and I keep it to myself." He obediently walked into the kitchen.Mr. Poirot entered the drawing-room, where he saw Sir Roderick pacing vigorously up and down. "Got you, boy," he said kindly. "The telephone is a wonderful thing." "You remember my name? I'm flattered."

"Well, I don't really remember your name," said Sir Roderick. "You know, I've never been good at remembering names, but I've never forgotten faces." Telephone to Scotland Yard." "Oh!" Poirot showed a hint of surprise, although he knew that such things were what a man like Sir Rodrik liked to do. "They asked me who I was looking for, and I said get me top bosses. That's the way you go about things in life, boy. Never engage in affairs with secondary people, it's useless.It's my style to find the tallest boss.Tell you, I told them who I am.I said I wanted to talk to the big boss, and finally they got me through.The guy was quite polite, and I told him I wanted to ask for the address of a man who worked with me in a coalition intelligence unit in a certain place in France in a certain month and year.The guy didn't seem to get his head around it, so I said, 'You should know who I'm referring to. ’ I said a Frenchman, or a Belgian.Are you Belgian?I said, "His name seems to be Achilles, but it's not Achilles." I said, "It's just like Achilles, and he's not tall." ’ I said: ‘With a big beard. 'Now he seems to have some connections.He said he thought your name might be in the phone book.I said yes, but then I said:

'He can't just be called Achilles or Hercules (that's what he gave me)?I don't remember his last name. ' So he told me.A very polite fellow, very attentive indeed. " "It was a great pleasure to meet you," said Poirot, wondering what the man who had spoken to Sir Rodrik on the telephone would say to him afterwards.Fortunately, it will never be a high-class person like a big boss.It is conceivable that it must be someone he has known for a long time, and his job is to provide some services for some out-of-date celebrities at any time. "Anyway," said Ser Roderick, "I have found here."

"It's a great honor. Would you like something to drink? Tea, juice, whiskey and soda, or a glass of molasses—" "My God, no," said Sir Rodrik, startled at the molasses, "I'd rather have a whiskey. Actually, I'm not allowed to drink," he added, "but doctors are stupid cows, we all know that, they just tell you not to do what you like. " Poirot called George in and gave him instructions.George put the whiskey and soda beside Sir Roderick and left. "Well," said Poirot, "what advice do you have?" "There's an errand for you, lad."

After several days passed, he seemed to be more convinced that he and Poirot had indeed had a deep relationship in the past; and this was exactly what Poirot wanted, because then Sir Rodrick's nephew would be more dependent on him—Byro Luo's skills. "It's the papers," said Sir Roderick in a low voice, "I lost some papers and I must get them back, understand? So I figured, since my eyesight is failing and my brains are not working very well at times, I'd better get someone who knows how to do it for me. you know?You came at the right time that day, and you were very useful, because I had to find these documents. "

"That is very interesting," said Poirot. "May I ask what kind of document it is?" "Well, I suppose since you're asked to look for it, you're bound to ask, aren't you? Tell you, it's very secret, very classified. Top secret—at least in the past, and, depending on the circumstances." So it will be again. There are some correspondence, not particularly important to me at the time, but not all useless; but there are always changes in political matters. Of course you understand, come and go You know that wars are ever-changing, and no one can figure out their own direction. In one war, Italy was our ally, and in the next war it became an enemy. In the first war, Japan was still our close friend. During the Second World War, they attacked Pearl Harbor. They never knew which side they were on! At the beginning, they were on the same line with Russia, but after the war, they became hostile again. I told You, Poirot, the most difficult thing today is to identify allies, which can change overnight."

"You say you have lost some papers," said Poirot, reminding the old gentleman of the purpose of his visit. "Yeah, you know, I have a bunch of papers, and I've dug them out lately. I put them all away, and to tell you the truth, I put them in the bank. But then I took them all out again. , sorted it out, because I thought why not write a memoir too. Those guys are writing it now. Montgomery, Alan Brooke, and Auchinreich are all blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. The gossip of the marshals, even the respected Dr. Morin was there talking about his famous patients, I really don't know whose turn it will be next! Anyway, I thought that I was also interested Write anecdotes about people I know myself, why can't I tell them as well as everyone else? That's what I've been through."

"I am sure the reader will be very interested," said Poirot. "Oh, oh, yes! I know a lot of news people. People are in awe of them, but they don't know that they are big fools, but I know. My God, the mistakes made by these big people-you really I can’t believe it. So I took out my files and asked that little girl to sort them out for me. She’s a very nice little girl, and she’s also quite smart. Although she doesn’t know much English, she’s very smart and very It can help. I have a lot of documents in my collection, but they are all messy and unorganized. Anyway, the documents I need are not there.”

"Not in there?" "No. We thought maybe we lost it at first, but after we've looked it up again, I can tell you, Poirot, that I feel that quite a few papers have been tampered with. Some of them are not important. Actually, I None of the documents I was looking for were particularly important—I mean no one thought they were important, or they wouldn't have let me keep them. Anyway, the letters I was looking for were gone. " "Of course, I will be careful to keep it secret," said Poirot; "but can you tell me the nature of the letters you speak of?"

"I don't know if I can tell, my boy, but the most I can tell you is that it's about some guy right now who's talking about what he's done and said in the past, but he's not telling the truth at all, and these letters of mine are just right Can point out what a liar he is! I can tell you none of my letters will be published. We just want to send him a copy and let him know what the hell he was talking about and we have documents to prove it .I dare say, things will be very different after that, understand? Well, I don't have to ask, do I? You should know the consequences of spreading ten and ten spreads?" "Yes, Sir Roderick, I know what you mean. But you must know that I cannot easily retrieve it for you without knowing what it is, or where it might be. " "Okay, let's get to the bottom line first: I want to know who moved it, because that's an important point. Maybe there are more important documents in my collection. I want to know, who moved pass." "Don't you know anything about it yourself?" "You think I should know, eh?" "This, in terms of the most important possibility—" "I know. You want me to say it's the little girl, but I don't think it's the little girl. She wouldn't have known the importance of those papers, she was too young then." "Perhaps someone else instructed her," Poirot reminded him. "Yes, yes, not impossible. But it's too obvious." Poirot sighed.Given Sir Roderick's apparent partiality, he felt that it was useless to insist on his views. "Who else has given permission to see your papers?" "Andrew and Mary are fine, of course, but I don't think Andrew would be interested in such things. Besides, he's always been a very well-behaved boy, always. It's not how I know him. Sometimes during the holidays, he He and his brother also came to see me once or twice, that's all. Of course, he abandoned his wife and went to South Africa with a very beautiful person; but of course, he is not alone, especially Married a wife like Grace. In fact, I haven't seen her a few times. She is the kind of woman who never lifts her eyes to look at people, she just does things stupidly. In short, it is impossible for a person like Andrew to be a spy As for Mary, she's very nice too. As far as I can see, she doesn't look at anything but the rose garden. And the old gardener, who's eighty-three years old, has lived in the village all his life. and those two women pushing that vacuum cleaner around the house all day, it's so noisy, I don't think it's the role of a spy. So, it must be an outsider. Of course, Mary wears a wig " said Sir Roderick, rather irrelevantly, "I mean she might give the impression that she might have been a spy because she wore a wig, but she had a different reason for that. She had a high fever, and her hair was all bald. Very unfortunate for a young woman. I didn't know she wore a wig at first, and one day I saw her hair scraped on a rose branch and pulled a wig out. Really Bad luck." "That's why it seems to me that she wears her hair a little differently," said Poirot. "The best spies never wear wigs anyway," Sir Rodrik told him. "Those poor fellows need a facelift. But someone must have touched my private papers." "You think maybe you've got it somewhere else—in a drawer or some other folder. When was the last time you saw it?" "About a year ago, I looked through it, and I thought I should make a few copies. I especially noticed those letters, but now they are gone. Someone must have taken them." "You have no suspicion of your nephew Andrew, nor of his wife or of the family servants. What about their daughter?" "Norma? I think Norma has some brains. I mean she might be kleptomaniac and take other people's stuff and not know it, but I can't figure out why she's going through mine." "So what's on your mind?" "Well, you've been to our house. You know how that house is. Anyone can come and go as they please. We don't lock the door, never. "Was your own door locked—when you came to London, say?" "I never thought it necessary. Now I lock it, of course. But what's the use? It's too late. Besides, I only have an ordinary key, and any door can be opened. Someone must come in from outside. Otherwise, why are thieves so violent nowadays? In broad daylight, they break into your house, climb up the stairs, choose a room at random, and walk away after rummaging through the jewelry box. I would ask who he is. He looks like a strange, ignorant, long-haired and dirty-nailed person who I don’t know what to call. I saw more than one of them come in at home, and I don’t want to ask: ‘What the hell are you doing? Who is it?" I don't know if it's a man or a woman, it's really embarrassing. There are many such people, I think they are probably Norma's friends. In the past, such people were not allowed to come to the house, but if you drive them away If you go out, you may find out who is the son of Baron Endersler or the daughter of Viscount Marjorie Banks. These days, I can hardly figure out who is around me." He paused for a while and then Said: "If anyone can possibly find out, it's only you, Poirot." He drank the last whiskey in his glass and stood up. "That's all, it's all up to you. You'll take over, won't you?" "I will do my best," said Poirot. At this time, the doorbell rang. "It must be the little girl," said Sir Rodrik. "Punctual, to the point. Very nice, isn't it? You know, you can't do without her in London. I'm as blind as a bat, and I can't even see the road." Can't make it through." "Why no glasses?" "I also have a few pairs, but I don't know where to put them; besides, they always slip off the bridge of my nose, or I throw them away. Besides, I really don't like glasses.I never use it. When I was sixty-five years old, I didn’t even wear glasses when I was reading, isn’t it? " "Nothing lasts forever," said Poirot. George brings Sunia into the house.She is very beautiful today.Poirot thought to himself: Her shyness is really lovely.He greeted him with old French hospitality. "Nice to meet you, miss," he said, bowing to her. "I'm not late, Sir Rodrik," she said, glancing at Poirot. "I didn't keep you waiting. I wish I didn't." "Not bad, little girl," said Ser Rodrik, "and well-trained, to a first-rate standard. " Sunia was a little overwhelmed by the praise. "Tea is pleasant, I hope," Sir Roderick was still saying, "I told you, have a good cup of tea and buy a loaf, or a brioche roll that you ladies like, er ? I hope you listen to me." "No, I haven't. I got a pair of shoes when I found time. Look, they're pretty, aren't they?" She held out a foot. They were indeed a beautiful pair of new shoes, and Sir Rodrik looked at them with a beaming smile. "Well, we've got to go and catch the train," he said. "I may be old-fashioned, but I just like trains. They go on time, they're on time, or at least they should be. But cars, when they arrive, When I get off work, I just hang out in a long queue and dawdle, at least an hour and a half will be wasted. Cars! Fuck him!" "Shall I ask George to call you a taxi?" Hercule Poirot said, "It will be no trouble." "I've ordered a car to wait outside." Sunia said. "Look," said Ser Rodrick, "she has thought of everything." He patted her on the shoulder. Poirot couldn't appreciate the shyness with which she looked at him. Poirot accompanied them to the door of the passage, and said good-bye politely.Mr. Gaobi came out from the kitchen and stood in the corridor, looking like he had just repaired the gas stove at someone else's house. As soon as George waited for them to come down the stone steps outside the door, George closed the door to meet Poirot's gaze. "What do you think of the lady, George? Can you tell me?" said Poirot.On some things he thought George was infallible. "Well, sir," said George, "perhaps, if you will allow me to say, I see him quite captivated. He's absolutely utterly enthralled." "I think you are right," said Hercule Poirot. "Of course, at his age, it's nothing. I remember Sir Montburen, who had a lot of experience in life, and you said he was very shrewd. But you don't think that there was a young woman once. Come to give him a massage, guess what he gave her? An evening dress, a bracelet. And it was unforgettable at first sight. He also gave her turquoise and diamonds. Although they are not too expensive, they also cost a lot. A little money. And later gave her a shawl—not mink, but ermine, and a little leather bag to go with it. After that, her brother had problems, debts or something, although sometimes I doubt anyone knows whether she has a brother or not. "Sir Monteblen paid for their debts—she was so sorry! But, don't be mistaken, there's an innocent love among them. Men seem to lose their heads at that age." Yes. They catch the stubborn type, not the gutsy old man." "You're quite right, George," said Poirot, "but it still doesn't quite answer my question. I'm asking what do you think of the lady?" "Oh, that lady... er, sir, I can't say for sure, but she's the type that won't let people's eyes go wrong. Although I can't find anything wrong, I think she has a very good heart Clever." Poirot walked into the living room, and Mr. Gobbe followed Poirot's gestures. Mr. Gaobi still sat down on a high-backed chair with the usual expression, tightened his knees, and tucked his toes in. He took out a cornered notepad from his pocket, opened it carefully, and began to report to the glass of soda water on the table. "Report to you the background information you asked me to investigate." "The Resdericks are a well-respected and prestigious family. The father, James Patrick Resdericks, is said to be a shrewd businessman with a good deal. The family has been in business for three generations. Grandfather established, father expanded, Se Mon Resderick took over the business. Simon Resderick suffered from coronary artery blockage two years ago and was in declining health. He died of arterial thrombosis about a year ago. Brother Andrew Resderick After graduating from Oxford University, Rick joined his own business and married Grace Baldwin. Had a daughter, Norma. Abandoned his wife and daughter and went to South Africa. He was accompanied by a Miss Beryl. Divorce was not done. Andrew Mrs. Resderick died two years ago. She has been ill for many years. Norma Resderick was a boarder at the Ryefield Girls School and has no bad record." After sweeping his eyes over Poirot's face, Mr. Gobbe said again: "According to Cook's inquiries, in fact, everything seems to be in good order with his family." "There's no heresy, and no insanity?" "It seems not." "Discouraged," said Poirot. Mr. Gabby skimmed this section.Cleared his throat, licked his fingers, and turned another page in the notepad. "David Baker, bad record, twice probation. The police are very interested in him. He has been involved in several ambiguous incidents, it seems to be art theft, but there is no evidence. He is in the art world. A jerk, not good at making a living, but doing a good job. Likes rich girls, doesn't feel ashamed to live off of girls who like him, and doesn't care if their father pays them to go away. A total bad guy in my opinion Embryo, but smart enough to never get into serious trouble." Mr. Gobbe cast a sudden glance at Poirot. "Have you seen him?" "Yes," said Poirot. "May I ask what you think of yourself?" "As you see it," said Poirot. "A vulgar monster," he added thoughtfully. "But it is very attractive to women." Mr. Gao Bi said: "It's a pity that today's hard-working young people, girls don't even bother to look at them. They prefer the bad embryos-beggars. They also said:' Poor, bad luck.'" "Adorned like a peacock," said Poirot. "Well, it may be said so," said Mr. Gobbe, not quite understanding. "Do you think this guy is going to kill with a stick?" Mr. Gobbe thought for a moment, then shook his head slowly towards the fireplace. "He doesn't have a record like that. I'm not saying it's impossible, but I don't think that would be his line. He's a soft-spoken guy, not the rough type." "Indeed," said Poirot, "I shouldn't think so. In your opinion, he can be paid off, can't he?" "As long as it is beneficial to him, he will throw the girl away at once." Poirot nodded.He remembered one thing in his mind.Andrew Restarick had shown him the signature on a check.Poirot read not only the signature on the check, but also the name of the person to whom it was paid.The considerable sum was paid to David Baker.Will David Baker decline that check?Poirot speculated in his mind.He thinks that in general, he will not refuse.Mr. Gobbe no doubt held this view.Unworthy young men being sent away by money is a thing of all ages, and it is the same for young women.The man made an oath, and the woman burst into tears, but in the end, money is money.David proposed marriage to Norma, is he sincere?Could he really love Norma?If so, he should not be easily bribed by money.His attitude was extremely sincere, and Norma believed that he was sincere without saying anything.Andrew Restarike, M. Gobbe, and Hercule Poirot took a different view.Moreover, they may be roughly right. Mr. Gobbe coughed and went on reading his report. "As for Miss Claudia Ruixi Helan, she has no problems, no bad rumors, that is to say, no ambiguous affairs. Her father is a member of Congress, very rich, and there is no ambiguity. It's not like Behavior like some of the MPs we've heard about. She was educated at Margaret Girls' School in Loddon and worked as a secretary many times after her graduation. First as a secretary in a Harley Street clinic, then at the Bureau of Coal Mines.First class secretary.Been secretary to Mr. Restarick for two months.There are no committed lovers, only a few ordinary boyfriends.If she wants to date, she won't have to worry about finding a boyfriend.There was no apparent connection between her and Resderick.My personal opinion is no.She has lived in the Borrowden Apartments rental building for the past three years.The rent is quite expensive, and usually, she shares the rent with two other girls, who are not particularly close friends.Each does not interfere with each other.A young lady, Frances Jally, was the second girl with whom she had lived for some time.He studied for a period at the Royal College of Design and Art before transferring to Swansea University.Currently working for Wadeburn Gallery - a very well known gallery on Bond Street.Specializes in arranging art exhibitions for people in Manchester, Birmingham, and sometimes overseas.Often to Switzerland and Portugal.I belong to the type of art, and I also have many friends in the art and drama circles. " He stopped, cleared his throat, and glanced at the notepad in his hand. "Can't get much information from South Africa yet. Can't get much depending on the situation. Resderick's whereabouts are uncertain. For a while, he often traveled to Kenya, Uganda, Gold Coast and South Africa. Traveled far away. A person who doesn't like to settle down. .No one seems to know him very well. He is wealthy, can go where he wants to go, and can make money, and a lot of money. Loves to travel to wild places. Everyone who knows him has a good impression of him. He seems to be A wanderer by nature, never in touch with people. Reported dead three times—disappeared after going into the wild—but popped up again five or six months later in a completely different location or country. "Last year his brother in London died suddenly. It took a lot to find him. His brother's death seems to have hit him hard. Maybe he's tired, maybe he's finally found the right mate. She's a lot younger than him, He was said to be a schoolteacher, very conscientious. In short, he resolved to give up his wanderings and return to England. In addition to his own wealth, he also inherited his brother's property. "There is an unhappy daughter out of a brilliant family," said Poirot. "I wish I knew more about her. You have gathered for me as far as you can the facts I need. Around this girl Somebody who might have influenced her in some way, maybe at all. What I want is some information on her father, her stepmother, her lover, and her flatmates and colleagues in London. Are you sure that no deaths have been connected to this girl? It's important-" "There is no sign at all," Mr. Gaobi said. "She works for a company called House Bird, which is about to close down, and her salary is not much. The stepmother was admitted to the hospital recently. It is a hospital in the country. There are many rumors It's being circulated, but it seems that they can't find out why." "She's not dead," said Poirot. "What I want," he said with ferocious emphasis, "is a death." Mr. Gaobi said that there was nothing he could do, so he stood up. "Excuse me, is there any other information you need?" "No need for background information." "Okay, sir." Mr. Gabby put the notepad in his pocket and said again: "I'm sorry, sir, maybe I'm busy, but there was a lady here just now—" "Just to be blunt, I guess, you've seen her before, haven't you?" "Yes, a month or two ago." "Where did you see her?" "National Arboretum." "National Botanical Garden?" Poirot was obviously a little surprised. "I'm not stalking her. I'm stalking someone else, someone she's meeting with." "Who is it?" "I want to tell you that it's okay. It's a new military attache at the Herzogovia embassy." Poirot raised his eyebrows. "Interesting. Well, unusual. National Arboretum," he mused. "It's a great place to meet, the atmosphere is great." "I thought so too." "Did they talk?" "No, sir. They don't seem to know each other. The lady brought a book, and she sat down on a bench. She read the book for a while, and then put it down. Later, the person I followed also Sat down on the bench, they didn't speak to each other, the lady got up and walked away. He sat there for a while and got up and left, he took the book that the lady left behind That's all, sir." "Well," said Poirot, "it's very interesting." Mr. Gaobi said goodbye to the bookcase and left. Poirot let out a long sigh of exhaustion. "It's over!" he said. "I can't stand it! It's too outrageous. The spy and the counterintelligence have also come out. What I was looking for was just a simple murder. I now suspect that the murder was at most a What's in the mind of a drug addict!"