Chapter 4 4

(Four) "That's it, Mister Poirot." Miss Lemon put a paper bag in front of Poirot.He opened it and looked at a silver evening shoe. "It was found in Baker Street." "It saved us a lot of trouble and confirmed my thinking." "Indeed," said Miss Lemon, who was naturally uncurious. However, she is still susceptible to the infection of family affection.she says: "Mr. Poirot, I have a letter from my sister. There is a new development." She handed him the letter, and after reading it, he told Miss Lemon to call her sister. "Mrs. Hubbard?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Poirot." "where are you now?" "At 26 Hickory Road, of course. Oh, I see what you mean. I'm in my own living room." "Is there an extension?" "I'm using the extension. The host is in the hall downstairs." "Is there anyone in the house who might overhear?" "All the students have gone out by this time. The cook has gone to the market. Her husband Geronimo understands very little English." "Very well. Then I can say it without any hesitation. Do you occasionally have lectures or movies at night?"

"We do have occasional speaking parties." "Then this evening you will persuade Mr. Hercule Poirot, your sister's employer, to have the potential to address some interesting cases to your students." It was half-past seven at dinner time, and most of the students were already seated when Mrs. Hubbard came downstairs from the living room, followed by a little old man. "These are some of our students, Mr. Poirot. This is Mr. Hercule Poirot, and he will talk to us after dinner." After exchanging pleasantries for a while, Poirot sat down beside Mrs. Hubbard.

At this time, a girl sitting on his right shyly said to him: "Does Mrs. Hubbard's sister really work for you?" "Yes, Miss Lemon has been my secretary for several years. She is the most capable woman." "I find it strange--" "What is it strange to you, miss?" He smiled at her fatherly, and at the same time made a note in his heart: "Pretty, worried, slow-witted, scared..." he said: "May I know your name and what you're studying?" "Celier Austin. I'm not at school. I'm a dispenser at St. Catherine's."

"Fun job." "I don't know—perhaps so." "What about the others? Perhaps you can tell me something about them? As far as I know, this is the home of foreign students, but most of them seem to be English." "Some foreigners have gone out. Mr. Chandra Lal and Mr. Gobo Ram--they are Indians--Miss Renjill is Dutch--Mr. Ahmed Ali is Egyptian." "What about those here?" "Sitting to Mrs Hubbard's left is Nigel Chapman, who is studying Medieval and Italian History at the University of London. His next, with spectacles, is Miss Patricia Lane. She is at Doing a degree in archeology. The big redhead guy is Ryan Bateson, he's a med student, and the black girl is Valerie Holmes, she's in a beauty salon. Her next is Colin Makena -- he's doing a master's degree in psychiatry."

Her voice changes a little when she speaks of Colin.Poirot watched her, seeing the blood come to her face. He said to himself in his heart: "It turns out—she's in love, and she can't easily hide this fact." He noticed that young Marc never seemed to be looking in Tita's direction, too busy talking to a smiling red-haired girl sitting next to him. "That's Sally Finch. She's American -- she's here on a Fulbright scholarship. Beyond that is Genevieve Marricold. She's studying English, and she's sitting next to her in Ray So is Ni Hall. That petite blond girl is Jane Tomlinson - she's also at St. Catherine's. She's a physiotherapist. The black person is Akin Bumbo - he's from West Africa and he's so nice. Again Down there is Elizabeth Johnston, who is from Jamaica, studying law. On my left are two Turkish students who came here about a week ago. They know almost no English at all."

"Thank you. Do you all get along? Or fight?" "Oh, we're all too busy to argue, though..." "Although what, Miss Austin?" "Well--Nigel--he likes to mess with people and make people angry. And Rain Bateson can get angry. He can get mad sometimes. But he's really nice and pleasant." "Then Colin Mac--he's going to be mad too?" "Oh no. Colin just raises his eyebrows and looks surprised." "I understand. So young lady, you also have quarrels between you?" "Oh, no. We all get on very well. Genevieve has a temper sometimes. I think the French are more sensitive."

"What did you mean, Miss Austin, when you said you felt strange?" "Oh, that--nothing--it's nothing--only, somebody made some silly jokes lately--I thought Mrs. Hubbard--but, really, I was stupid. I didn't mean anything." Polo didn't push her.He turned to Mrs. Hubbard, and immediately had a triangular conversation with her and Nigel Chapman, who opened up on the strictly controversial topic of crime as a creative art form, and that society's inadequacy lies with the police. So being a policeman is only a function of their hidden sadism.Poirot noticed with amazement that an anxious, bespectacled young woman sitting next to him was desperate to help him explain an opinion as soon as he made it.However, Nigel did not appreciate her good intentions in the slightest.

"You guys today come out and don't think about politics or psychology," Mrs. Hubbard said. "We were happier than you when I was young. We danced." Celia laughed out loud, and said maliciously at the same time: "You used to dance a lot, Nigel. I danced with you once myself." "You danced with me?" said Nigel incredulously. "where?" "In Cambridge-May Week." "Oh, May Week!" Nigel waved away the youthful absurdity with a wave of his hand. "Everyone has puberty? Fortunately, it passed quickly. " Nigel was no more than twenty-five now.Patricia Lane said solemnly:

"You know, Mrs. Hubbard, we have so much homework. Too busy with lessons, taking notes, and doing things that are really worth it, that there's just no time for anything." "A man is only young once, my dear," said Mrs. Hubbard. After dessert they all went into the saloon and each poured coffee from a large coffee jug which stood on the table.Then Polo was invited to speak.The two Turkish students took their leave politely.The rest of the people sat down, with expressions of expectation on their faces. Polo stood up and spoke with his usual poised holiness.He talked lightly and amusingly for forty-five minutes.

"So, you know," he concluded, "I said to this gentleman that I was reminded of a soap factory owner I knew who poisoned his wife in order to marry his pretty fair-haired secretary. The returned money was stuffed into my hand. He was pale and his eyes were terrified. I would donate the money, I said, to charity. Then I said to him it would be wise to be careful. He tapped Head, without a word. He was horrified, and I saved his life. Because even though he was infatuated with his blond secretary, he wouldn't poison his wife again. Prevention is always better than cure. We want to prevent murder- —instead of waiting until after the incident to find a way to remedy it.” He bowed. The students applauded him enthusiastically.Then, just as Poirot was about to sit down, Colin Mackerel took his pipe from his lips and said: "Now, maybe you want to talk about the real purpose of your coming here?" There was a silence, and then Patricia said accusingly, "Colin." "Well, we can all guess, can't we?" He looked around disdainfully. "Mr. Poirot made an interesting talk to us, but that's not what he's here for. He's at work. You don't really think we can't even see that?" "You speak for yourself, Colin," said Sally. "I'm telling the truth, aren't I?" "I confess," said Poirot, "that my good mistress has privately related to me events which have terrified her--." Rain Bateson stood up, his face heavy and savage. "Listen," he said, "what's the matter? Is this a deliberate arrangement to trap us?" "Did you really just figure it out?" Nigel said sweetly. Celia swallowed in horror and said, "Then I was right." Mrs. Hubbard said decisively and authoritatively: "I want Mr. Poirot to speak, and I would also like to get his opinion on some of the things that have happened here recently. Something has to be done, and it seems to me that the Commissioner's other option is to go to the police." Suddenly, a heated argument erupted.Genevieve spoke a long stream of excited French. "It's really embarrassing and disgraceful to go to the police!" Other voices, those who expressed sympathy or disagreement, joined in.In the final interlude, Ryan Bateson's voice rises decisively. "Let's hear what Mr. Poirot has to say about our problems here." Mrs. Hubbard said: "I have told Mr. Poirot all the facts. If he wishes to ask any questions, I am sure none of you will object." "Thank you," said Poirot.Magician-like, he pulled out a pair of evening shoes and handed them to Sally Finch. "Is it your shoe, miss?" "How—yes—both are there? The lost one just came out of nowhere?" "From the lost and found office on Baker Street." "But how did you think it might be there, M. Poirot?" "A very simple line of reasoning. Someone has taken a shoe from your house. Why? Not to wear it or to sell it. And since everyone is going to search the house trying to find it, the shoe must Get it out of the house or destroy it. But it is not easy to destroy a shoe. The easiest way is to take it on a bus or train and tuck it under the seat along with the paper bag when the passengers are in a rush. That was my first guess, and it turned out to be correct - so I know my reasoning was correct - the shoe was taken? ?To disturb him, because he knows it's funny. "Valerie gave a short laugh. "The unmistakable arrow points to you, Nigel, my love." Nigel smiled awkwardly and said, "If that shoe fits, put it on." "Nonsense," said Sally. "Nigel didn't take my shoes." "Of course he didn't," Patricia said angrily. "That's the most ridiculous idea." "I don't know if it's absurd or not," said Nigel. "I didn't actually do that kind of thing -- as we all would say without a doubt." It was as if Poirot had been waiting for his words like an actor waiting for a cue.His thoughtful eyes fell on Ryan Bateson's flushed face, and then he scanned the rest of the students with questioning eyes. He said: "My position is delicate. I'm a guest here. I'm here at Mrs. Hubbard's invitation--for a pleasant evening, that's all. And, of course, a very charming pair of evening shoes. Back to the lady. As for further--" He paused. "This gentleman—Bateson? Yes, Mr. Bateson—want me to give my personal opinion on this—difficulty. But unless you all ask me to. It would be inappropriate for me to speak." Mr. Akibombo nodded sharply at a head covered in black curly hair. Sally Finch's voice rose impatiently. "Let's listen to Mr. Poirot's opinion, and stop talking nonsense." "I couldn't agree more, Sally," said Nigel. "Good," he said. "Since you all ask me that question, I reply that mine is fairly simple. Mrs. Hubbard—or should I say Mrs. Nicoletis—should call the police immediately."