Chapter 2 2

(two) Miss Lemon's sister, Mrs. Hubbard, looked very much like her sister.Her skin was yellower and fuller, but the eyes in her face shone as shrewdly as Miss Lemon's through her pince-nez. "It's very kind of you, Mr. Poirot," she said. "Such a delicious refreshment." "First," said Poirot, "we have some tea—and then we get down to business." He smiled at her kindly, and Mrs. Hubbard said: "You know, you are exactly what I imagined from the description of happiness." After a moment of surprise, Polo realized that "Happiness" was Miss Lemon's Christian name, and he replied that according to Miss Lemon's ability, this was what he expected.

"Of course," said Mrs. Hubbard absently, taking another sandwich, "happiness never cared about other people? I care, that's why I worry. " "Can you explain to me what it is that worries you?" "If money is stolen--little pennies here and there--that's natural enough. And if it's jewels, it's fairly innocent--kleptomaniac or crooked. But I read the lost things to Listen, I'll write them down on a piece of paper." Evening shoes (one of a new pair) Bracelets (artificial gemstones) Diamond Ring (found in the Soup Plate) Compact

lipstick stethoscope earrings lighter old flannel pants Bulb box of chocolate candies silk scarf (chopped) rucksack (same as above) Boron powder bath salts cookbook Polo took a deep breath. "Amazing," he said, "and quite -- quite fascinating. I congratulate you on such a unique, beautiful puzzle." "Well, maybe that makes sense to you, Mr. Poirot, but..." "It doesn't make sense at all. It reminds me of a game I was persuaded by some friends to play at Christmas - Miss Triangle. A group of people sat in a circle and everyone took turns saying: I went to Paris to buy--Ga The name of the last thing. The next person does the same and adds the name of another thing. The purpose of this game is to remember the names of the things listed in this way. Of course, the difficulty in remembering these things is that These things are irrelevant--so to speak?

Lack of coherence.Like what's on that list you just read to me.For example, by the time twelve things have been named, it becomes almost impossible to list them all in order.The loser has to wear a corner made of paper, and it is the turn of the next competitor, after everyone has said the same thing, to say: I miss a corner. Go to Paris--list out the names of the things that everyone said in order.After three failures, after wearing three horns, they are forced to withdraw, and the last one left wins. " "I'm sure you're the winner," said Miss Lemon with the confidence of a loyal employee.

Poirot smiled. "Actually, that's exactly what it is," he said. "Even the most disorganized things can be put into order, with a bit of ingenuity, order, so to speak. This is: mentally remember that I wash a marble white elephant with a bar of soap, and it stands On a table with iron legs—and so on." Mrs. Hubbard said admiringly, "Perhaps you can do the same with the list I gave you. "Certainly. A lady puts on her right shoe and a bracelet on her left hand. Then she powders, puts on her lipstick, goes downstairs to dinner, drops her ring in the soup dish, and so on - so I can put Take this list of yours - but this isn't what we're going to track down, but why is something so loosely stolen? Is there any system behind the scenes? Some kind of paranoid thinking? We need an analysis first Procedure. The first thing is to study the items on this list very carefully."

While Polo was studying carefully, the room was silent. When Poirot finally spoke, Mrs. Hubbard almost jumped up. "The first thing that caught my special attention," said Poirot. "Most of the missing items were frivolous items (some of which were quite unimportant), with the exception of two items - a stethoscope and a diamond ring. Putting the stethoscope aside for now, I'll focus on the rings first. You Only a valuable ring—how much?" "Well, I can't say for sure, Mr. Poirot. The big center diamond, surrounded by a ring of smaller diamonds, was Miss Lane's mother's engagement ring, as far as I know. She was very disturbed by the loss, and that night at We all breathed a sigh of relief when it was found in Miss Hohouse's soup. We thought it was just a nasty joke played by someone."

"Possibly. But I personally think it's meaningful when it's lost. Dropping a lip balm, a powder compact, or a book—that's not enough to make you call the police. But a valuable diamond ring is different. Call the police." The possibility is very high?. Therefore, the ring is returned to the original owner." "But why steal it if you're going to return it?" said Miss Lemon, frowning. "Yes, why?" said Poirot. "But let's put that question aside for the present. I will now classify the thefts, beginning with the ring. Who is this Miss Lane from whom the ring was stolen?"

"Patricia Lane? She's a nice girl. Come and study history or archaeology." "rich?" "Oh, no. She doesn't have much money herself, but she's always been very careful with it. The ring is her mother's. She has a piece of jewelry or two, but not much new clothes, and she recently quit smoking." "What does she look like? Describe it in your own words." "Oh, her complexion can be said to be black and white, and she looks a bit listless. She is quiet like a little lady, but she has no energy and vitality. She is a so-called—er, serious girl."

"At the end of the day, it appeared on Miss Ho Haosi's soup plate. Who is Miss Ho Haosi?" "Valerie Hohouses? She's a bright, dark girl with a sarcastic tone of voice. She works in a beauty salon. Sharina—I think you've probably heard of this beauty salon." "Are the two girls friendly?" Mrs. Hubbard considered it. "I think so--yes. There isn't much between them. Patricia gets along with anybody, not unpopularity or anything. Valerie Hobhouse has her enemies, and it's her tongue. - but she also has disciples, if? you know what I mean. "

"I think I understand," said Poirot. So Patricia Lane was nice but boring, and Valerie Hohouses had a personality.He returned to his analysis of the stolen property list. "What's interesting is the different categories of things represented here. Some are enough to seduce a girl who is vain and on a tight budget. Lipstick, costume jewelry, compacts -- bath salts -- a box of chocolates. Then there's A stethoscope, more likely stolen by a man who knew where to take it to sell or pawn it. Whose stethoscope is it?" "Mr Bate's—he's a big, friendly young man."

"Medical students?" "yes." "Is he angry?" "He's very angry, Mr. Poirot. He has a very bad temper--he can say anything in a fit of anger, but it passes quickly, and he's not one to let his things be stolen." "Is there room for anyone?" "Well, Mr. Gobo Ram, a student from India. He laughed everything off. He waved his hand and said that things don't matter--" "Has he had anything stolen?" "No." "Ah! whose flannel trousers are they?" "Mr. Macanna's. Very old trousers. Anyone would say they should be thrown away, but Mr. Macanna's was so attached to his old clothes that he never threw anything away." "We talked about seemingly insignificant things - old flannel pants, light bulbs, boron powder, bath salts - a cookbook. These things may be important, but more likely not important. Boron powder is followed by Misplaced, and the light bulb may have been borrowed and forgotten to be returned. The trousers may have been taken by a handyman." "We've got two very reliable cleaning ladies. I'm sure none of them would take it without first asking." "You're probably right. And evening shoes, one of a new pair, aren't you? Whose shoes?" "Sally Finch's. She's an American girl here on an exchange study, with a scholarship from the Fulbright Act Foundation." "Are you sure that shoe wasn't simply misplaced? I can't think of a shoe that could be of any use to anyone." "It's not misplaced, Mr. Poirot. We've searched all over. Miss Finch was going to what she called a formal dinner - a formal dress - and shoes are important - that was Her only pair of evening shoes." "It's causing her inconvenience--annoyance--uh... well, I doubt. Maybe there's something to it..." He was silent for a while, then continued. "There were two more items - a rucksack that was cut up and a silk scarf that met the same fate. These two items were neither vanity nor profit - but deliberate, vindictive acts. Whose rucksack is it? " "Nearly all of the students had rucksacks - all of them were hitchhikers a lot. And most of the rucksacks were the same - bought in the same place, so it was difficult to tell them apart. However, it seemed fairly certain that this one Is it Ryan? Bateson or Colin McNair. " "And the silk scarf was also cut into pieces. Whose is it?" "Valerie Hobhouse's. It was a Christmas present for her—emerald color, and the material is really good." "Miss Ho Haos...I understand." Poirot closed his eyes.What came to his mind was a veritable kaleidoscope.Fragments of scarves and rucksacks, cookbooks, lipstick and bath salts; names and brief descriptions of various students.There is no bonding or organization.Disconnected events, a swirling group of people.Yet Polo knew quite well that there must be a pattern.Could be several patterns. He opened his eyes. "It's something to think about. It's a lot to think about." "Oh, I'm sure of that, Mr. Poirot," agreed Mrs. Hubbard eagerly. "And I'm sure I don't want to bother you—" "You're not bothering me. I'm interested. But while I'm thinking about it, we can start on the practical side. A start...shoes, evening shoes... Well, we can start here, Miss Lemon." "What is it, Mister Poirot?" "Perhaps Mrs. Hubbard will bring you the shoe that is left. Then you go to the lost and found office at Baker Street Station. The shoe was lost—when was it?" "Well, I don't remember quite right now. It was maybe two months ago. But I can ask Sally Finch for the date of the party." "Yes, er—he turned to Miss Lemon again." You can be a little vague.You say you lost a shoe on a city train - which is quite possible - or on another train.Or on the bus.How many buses pass near Hickory Road? " "There are only two ways." "Okay. If you can't get the result in Baker Street, try at Scotland Yard and say it fell in a taxi." "At the Grand Assistant Palace in London," Miss Lymon corrected efficiently. "You always knew these things." "But why do you think--" Mrs. Hubbard said, pausing. "We'll see what the outcome is. Whether it's negative or top-of-the-pit, you and I, Mrs. Hubbard, will have to discuss it together. Then you'll tell me everything I need to know." "I really think I've told you all I can tell you." "No, no. I don't agree. We are dealing with a group of young people with different temperaments and genders. A loves B, but B loves C, and D and E may look at each other because of A, I need to know It is all this, the interplay of human emotions. Quarrels, jealousies, friendships, resentments, and all ruthlessness." "I'm sure," said Mrs. Hubbard uneasily. "I didn't know anything about it. I wasn't involved with them at all. I just manage the place, take care of the meals and all that. " "But you're interested in people. You told me so. You like young people. You take the position not because of the pecuniary benefits of it, but because it puts you in touch with human problems. Some students you like , something you don't like very much, or not at all. You'll tell me - yes, you'll tell me! Because you're worried - not about the things that happened - you can call the police - "Mrs. Nicoletis doesn't like to go to the police, I can assure you of that." "No, you're worried about someone—someone you think might be responsible for, or at least implicated in, these time thefts. So, someone you like." "Really, Mr. Poirot." "Yes, really. And I think you're right to be worried. Because that silk scarf was cut to pieces, it wasn't fun. And the rucksack was cut up, it wasn't fun. As for the rest, see Seems like childish behavior - but - I'm not sure. No, I'm not sure at all!"