Chapter 5 4

(Fives) Polo's answer was beyond their expectation. Under the cover of a momentary paralysis, he was taken into the drawing room by Mrs. Hubbard. Mrs. Hubbard lit the lamp, closed the door, and invited Mr. Poirot to sit in an arm-chair by the fire. Then she stepped down opposite him, and after a moment of hesitation, she said: "Perhaps you are right, Mr. Poirot. Perhaps we should have turned to the police - especially after this vicious ink incident. But I wish you hadn't said so." "Ah," said Poirot, "you think I should play dumb?" "Well, it seems to me that silence should be kept. It might be better to have a police officer come over and tell him what happened in private. Whoever did these stupid things has been warned by now."

"maybe." "Nothing or impossibility!" said Mrs. Hubbard somewhat sharply. "Even a servant or a student who is not here this evening will get word out." "Not bad at all." "Besides, there's Mrs. Nicoletis. I really don't know what she's going to do. She's never been unpredictable." "It will be interesting to see what attitude she takes." There was a violent, authoritative knock on the door.The door opened, and Colin Mark walked in, clenching his pipe between his teeth and wrinkling his brow. "Excuse me," said he, "but I was anxious to have a word with M. Poirot."

"With me?" "Oh, with you," said Colin sullenly. He pulled up a chair that was a little uncomfortable to sit on, and sat upright, facing Hercule Poirot. "You gave us an interesting talk tonight," he said boldly. "I don't deny that you are a man of all sorts of long-term experience, however I think your methods and ideas are equally outdated." "Colin," said Mrs. Hubbard, flushing. "You are so rude." "I meant no offense. Regardless, I must speak clearly. Crime and punishment, Mr. Poirot, are the limits of your experience."

"It seems to me a natural cause and effect." "You're taking a narrow view of the law -- and the most old-fashioned law. These days, even the law has to be mindful of the latest theories that lead to crime. It's the why that counts." "But, as far as your modern point of view is concerned, I couldn't agree more with you!" "Then you've got to consider the reasons for what's going on in this house—you've got to find out why these things happened." "But I still agree with you on this point." Mrs. Hubbard couldn't stand it, and interjected sharply, "Nonsense!"

"That's where you're wrong," said Colin, turning his head slightly to her. "You have to take the psychological context into account." "What gibberish psychology!" said Mrs. Hubbard. "That's because you don't understand anything at all," said Colin.He turned his gaze back to Poirot. "I'm interested in these subjects. I'm currently doing a master's degree in psychiatry and psychology. We've had all sorts of horrific cases, Mr. Poirot. You can't just use the law of original sin to make this The offender is dismissed, or simply thought he was deliberately flouting the law. You need to understand the root of the problem if you want to treat juvenile delinquency effectively."

"Stealing is stealing," said Mrs. Hubbard stubbornly. Poirot said gently: "My views are certainly old-fashioned, whatever I'm going to listen to you, Mr. Macna." "That is very fair, Monsieur Poirot. Now let me try to explain the matter to you, in very simple terms." "Thank you." "I started with the pair of shoes you brought back to Sally Finch tonight. One shoe was stolen and there was only one." "I remember this fact having been brought to my attention." "Ah, but you don't see the point. It's one of the prettiest and most satisfying cases. The Cinderella complex. Cinderella, unpaid drudgery, by the fire, her sisters in Their best clothes, to go to the prince's ball. A fairy also sent Cinderella to the ball. When midnight came, her beautiful dress was in tatters - she ran away in a hurry, leaving behind a shoe. We Encounter is a person who compares himself to?

 is the mind of Cinderella (unconsciously, of course).All we have is frustration, admiration, feelings of inferiority.The girl stole a shoe.Why? " "It's a girl?" "Naturally it's a girl. Anybody with any sense knows that." "Really, Colin!" said Mrs. Hubbard. "Maybe she doesn't know why she does it herself - but the inner will is clear. She wants to be a princess, to be recognized by a prince and to woo her. Another big significance is that the shoe was stolen from A charming girl who is going to the prom." Colin's pipe, which had long since been extinguished, was now more eagerly waved.

"Now let's talk about something else that happened. Someone who was good at stealing all kinds of little things - everything that had to do with femininity: a compact, lipstick, earrings, bracelets, rings. It's double meaning: The girl wanted attention, and she was even punished for it—a common case of delinquent boys; none of these things can be called ordinary theft." "Nonsense," said Mrs. Hubbard smugly. "Some people are just dishonest." "But among the things that were stolen was a diamond ring of some value," said Poirot. "That was returned."

"And, Mr. Makena, of course you don't say that stethoscopes are women's little things?" "That has a deeper meaning. A woman who feels inferior in terms of femininity may be looking to advance in her career." "And cookbooks?" "A symbol of family life, husband and family." "And boric acid powder?" "My dear Monsieur Poirot. Nobody steals powdered boric acid! Why steal such things?" "That's exactly the question I'm asking myself. I must admit, Mr. Makena, you seem to have an answer to everything. Explain to me, then, the significance of the disappearance of an old pair of flannel trousers--yours, as far as I know." Flannel trousers."

For the first time Colin looked uncomfortable.He blushed and cleared his throat. "I can explain that—but it's a little complicated, maybe—er, a little embarrassing." "Forget it, save me from embarrassment." Polo leaned forward suddenly and tapped the young man on the knee. "And the ink that was spilled on another student's paper, and the shredded silk scarf. Didn't any of these things make you uneasy?" Ke Lin's calm and superb attitude suddenly and secretly changed. "They're causing my unease," he said. "Believe me, she should be treated. It's medical. It's not a police case. The poor thing doesn't even know what's going on. She's all stuck in knots. If I ..."

"Then you know who she is?" "I have very strong suspicions." Poirot murmured in a general manner: "A girl who's not very good with the opposite sex, a girl who's shy, a girl who's affectionate, a girl with a slow mind. A girl who's frustrated and lonely, a..." There was a knock on the door. The door opened and Celia Austin walked in. "Ah," said Polo, nodding. "Exactly. Miss Celia Austin." Celia looked at Colin with distressed eyes. "I didn't know you were here," she said. "I'm coming - I'm coming..." She took a deep breath and hurried to Mrs. Hubbard. "Please don't call the police. It's me. I've been stealing that stuff. I don't know why. I didn't mean to." She turned sharply to Colin. "Now you know what I am...I think you probably won't talk to me again. I know I'm scary..." "Don't say that! Not at all," said Colin. "You're just a little confused. You just have a disease that doesn't make sense. If you can trust me, Celia, I'll get you over in no time." "Oh, Colin—really?" Celia looked at him with undisguised admiration. "I've been very worried." "I don't have to worry about it now." He stood up, took Celia's arm, and looked at Mrs. Hubbard resolutely. "I hope," he said, "that there will be no more silly talk about calling the police now. Nothing of real value has been stolen, and what has been taken, Celia returns." "I can't return the bracelet and compact," Celia said worriedly. "I threw them in the gutter. But I'll buy new ones and return them." "Where's the stethoscope?" said Poirot. "Where did you put it?" "I didn't take the stethoscope. And I didn't pour the ink on the Elizabeth papers. I've never done anything as malicious as this." "But you cut Miss Ho Haos's scarf into pieces, miss." Celia said a little uncertainly: "That's different. Valerie doesn't mind." "And what about the rucksack?" "Oh, I didn't cut it up. It was pure temper." "Tell me," said Poirot, producing the list from Mrs. Hubbard's little book. "This time the truth must be told. Which of these incidents are you responsible for?" Celia answered immediately. "I didn't know anything about the rucksack, the light bulb, the boric acid powder, the bath salts, and the ring was a mistake. I returned it as soon as I knew it was worth it." "I see." "Because I really didn't mean to be dishonest. It's just..." "Just what?" There was a slight alert look in Celia's eyes. "I don't know—I really don't. I'm completely confused." Colin cut in decisively. "I will thank you if you don't question her. I can assure you that this will never happen again. From now on? ?Everything is entirely my responsibility. " "Oh, Colin, you are so kind to me." "I want you to tell me a lot about yourself, Celia. For example, your early family life. Did your father and your mother get along well?" "Oh no, it's dreadful—at home—" "Exactly, and—" broke in Mrs. Hubbard. "Enough is enough. I'm glad you came and confessed yourself. You should be ashamed, though you've caused quite a bit of worry and anxiety. However, I'd like to say that I accept your argument that ink was deliberately spilled on Elizabeth's notes of? People are not you.Now you go, you and Colin. " Mrs. Hubbard took a deep breath as the door closed behind them. "All right," she said. "what do you think?" Polo's eyes sparkled."I think -- we're assistants in a love scene -- modern," he said. He murmured: "In my youth, young men lent girls books on Theosophy or discussed Matrink's Blue Bird with them. It was all sensibility and high ideals. Now it's dysfunctional lives and complexes that make do with men and women .” "It's all nonsense," said Mrs. Hubbard. "No, it's not all nonsense. The big principles at heart are sound enough--but a young and enthusiastic researcher like Colin sees only the complexes and the unhappy family life of the victim." "Celier's father died when she was four years old," Mrs. Hubbard said. "And she had a very happy childhood with her mother - a good, foolish person." "Oh, but she's wise enough not to tell young Mark that! She'll say what he wants to hear. She loves dearly." "Do you believe his nonsense?" "I don't believe Celia has a Cinderella complex. Or that she steals out of nowhere. I think she's risking some small, unimportant thing with the intent of getting the attention of Colin Marker - that's all." In terms of purpose, she succeeded." "I don't think she has the brains to devise such a device," said Mrs. Hubbard. Polo didn't answer.Mrs. Hubbard went on. "Then the whole thing is a hoax! I'm really sorry, Mr. Poirot, for wasting your time on such a trifle. Anyway, it's a good end." "No, no," Poirot shook his head. "I don't think it's closed. We've cleared up some of the little things, but there are still some things that don't make sense and I personally have the impression that what we're dealing with is something serious." "Oh, Mr. Poirot, do you really think so?" "Just my impression. Whether I may speak to Miss Patricia Lane? I want to see the ring that was stolen." "Oh, of course. I'll go downstairs and tell her to come up to you. I have something to say to Rain Bateson." Soon Patricia Lane came in. "Mrs. Hubbard said you wanted to see my ring." She took the ring off her finger and handed it to Poirot. "A rather large diamond, really, but in the old-fashioned setting, of course. It's my mother's engagement ring." "Is your mother still alive?" "No, both my parents are dead." "It's so sad." "Yes. They were both very nice, but for some reason I never got very close to them. People always regret it after the fact. My mother wanted a beautiful, rash daughter. She was very happy when I chose archeology. disappointment." "Have you always been serious in your mind?" "I think so." Poirot looked at her thoughtfully. Patricia Lane, he guessed, was in her early thirties.She wore no makeup other than a casual swipe of lipstick. "No charm," Polo thought to himself with emotion. "And her clothes!" He was unimpressed by her appearance. "She's educated, she's intelligent, the girl," he said to himself, "and, by God, she's getting more and more boring every year!" Patricia was saying: "I'm really appalled at what happened to Black Bess--Miss Johnston. It seems to me that the green ink was used on purpose to look like Nigel did it. But I assure you, Nigel would never do that." "Ah." Polo looked at her with even more interest.She blushes. "Nigel is not easy to understand," she said eagerly. "You know, he had a very difficult home life as a kid." "Oh, here comes another one!" "What did you say?" "Nothing. You just said..." "About Nigel. He's difficult. He's always had a tendency to be against all authority. He's very smart--really smart, though I must admit that sometimes he has a very bad attitude. Making fun of people--you know. And he Too disdainful to explain or defend himself. Even if everyone in the place thinks he did that ink prank, he's not going to come out and say he didn't. That's a really stupid attitude." "Of course, this could be misunderstood." "It's a pride, I suppose. Because he's always been so misunderstood." "Have you known him for many years?" "No, only about a year. We met when we visited the Castle of Rolle. He fell ill with influenza, which turned into pneumonia, and I took care of him from beginning to end. He was very delicate and totally incapable of taking care of his health." .In some respects, despite being so independent, he still needs care like a child." Polo sighed. "Will you allow me to keep your ring, miss? It must be returned to you tomorrow." "Of course, if you want to keep it," Patricia said, a little surprised. "It's very kind of you. And please be careful, miss." "Be careful? Be careful of what?" "I wish I knew," said Poirot, still worried.