ways of deciding exactly what weapon a bullet had been fired from. The marks on the bullet must agree with the rifling of the barrel.
But that, I remembered, was only when the police were anxious to establish what weapon had fired the shot. There would have been no enquiry in this business. For Colonel Luttrell would have been quite as certain as everyone else that it was he who had fired the fatal shot. That fact would have been admitted, accepted without question; there would have been no question of tests. The only doubt would have been whether the shot was fired accidentally or with criminal intent – a question that could never be resolved.
And therefore the case fell into line exactly with those other cases – with the case of the labourer Riggs who didn’t remember but supposed he must have done it, with Maggie Litchfield who went out of her mind and gave herself up – for a crime she had not committed.
Yes, this case fell into line with the rest and I knew now the meaning of Poirot’s manner. He was waiting for me to appreciate the fact.
Chapter 10
I
I opened the subject with Poirot the following morning. His face lighted up and he wagged his head appreciatively.
‘Excellent, Hastings. I wondered if you would see the similarity. I did not want to prompt you, you understand.’
‘Then I am right. This is another X case?’
‘Undeniably.’
‘But why , Poirot? What is the motive?’
Poirot shook his head.
‘Don’t you know? Haven’t you any idea?’
Poirot said slowly: ‘I have an idea, yes.’
‘You’ve got the connection between all these different cases?’
‘I think so.’
‘Well then.’
I could hardly restrain my impatience.
‘No, Hastings.’
‘But I’ve got to know.’
‘It is much better that you should not.’
‘Why?’
‘You must take it from me that it is so.’
‘You are incorrigible,’ I said. ‘Twisted up with arthritis. Sitting here helpless. And still trying to play a lone hand.’
‘Do not figure to yourself that I am playing a lone hand. Not at all. You are, on the contrary, very much in the picture, Hastings. You are my eyes and ears. I only refuse to give you information that might be dangerous.’
‘To me?’
‘To the murderer.’
‘You want him,’ I said slowly, ‘not to suspect that you are on his track? That is it, I suppose. Or else you think that I cannot take care of myself.’
‘You should at least know one thing, Hastings. A man who has killed once will kill again – and again and again and again.’
‘At any rate,’ I said grimly, ‘there hasn’t been another murder this time. One bullet at least has gone wide.’
‘Yes, that was very fortunate – very fortunate indeed. As I told you, these things are difficult to foresee.’
He sighed. His face took on a worried expression.
I went away quietly, realizing sadly how unfit Poirot was now for any sustained effort. His brain was still keen, but he was a sick and tired man.
Poirot had warned me not to try and penetrate the personality of X. In my own mind I still clung to my belief that I had penetrated that personality. There was only one person at Styles who struck me as definitely evil. By a simple question, however, I could make sure of one thing. The test would be a negative one, but would nevertheless have a certain value.
I tackled Judith after breakfast.
‘Where had you been yesterday evening when I met you, you and Major Allerton?’
The trouble is that when you are intent on one aspect of a thing, you tend to ignore all other aspects. I was quite startled when Judith flared out at me.
‘Really, Father, I don’t see what business it is of yours.’
I stared at her, rather taken aback. ‘I – I only asked.’
‘Yes, but why ? Why do you have to be continually asking questions? What was I doing? Where did I go? Who was I with? It’s really intolerable!’
The funny part of it was, of course, that this time I was not really asking at all where Judith
But that, I remembered, was only when the police were anxious to establish what weapon had fired the shot. There would have been no enquiry in this business. For Colonel Luttrell would have been quite as certain as everyone else that it was he who had fired the fatal shot. That fact would have been admitted, accepted without question; there would have been no question of tests. The only doubt would have been whether the shot was fired accidentally or with criminal intent – a question that could never be resolved.
And therefore the case fell into line exactly with those other cases – with the case of the labourer Riggs who didn’t remember but supposed he must have done it, with Maggie Litchfield who went out of her mind and gave herself up – for a crime she had not committed.
Yes, this case fell into line with the rest and I knew now the meaning of Poirot’s manner. He was waiting for me to appreciate the fact.
Chapter 10
I
I opened the subject with Poirot the following morning. His face lighted up and he wagged his head appreciatively.
‘Excellent, Hastings. I wondered if you would see the similarity. I did not want to prompt you, you understand.’
‘Then I am right. This is another X case?’
‘Undeniably.’
‘But why , Poirot? What is the motive?’
Poirot shook his head.
‘Don’t you know? Haven’t you any idea?’
Poirot said slowly: ‘I have an idea, yes.’
‘You’ve got the connection between all these different cases?’
‘I think so.’
‘Well then.’
I could hardly restrain my impatience.
‘No, Hastings.’
‘But I’ve got to know.’
‘It is much better that you should not.’
‘Why?’
‘You must take it from me that it is so.’
‘You are incorrigible,’ I said. ‘Twisted up with arthritis. Sitting here helpless. And still trying to play a lone hand.’
‘Do not figure to yourself that I am playing a lone hand. Not at all. You are, on the contrary, very much in the picture, Hastings. You are my eyes and ears. I only refuse to give you information that might be dangerous.’
‘To me?’
‘To the murderer.’
‘You want him,’ I said slowly, ‘not to suspect that you are on his track? That is it, I suppose. Or else you think that I cannot take care of myself.’
‘You should at least know one thing, Hastings. A man who has killed once will kill again – and again and again and again.’
‘At any rate,’ I said grimly, ‘there hasn’t been another murder this time. One bullet at least has gone wide.’
‘Yes, that was very fortunate – very fortunate indeed. As I told you, these things are difficult to foresee.’
He sighed. His face took on a worried expression.
I went away quietly, realizing sadly how unfit Poirot was now for any sustained effort. His brain was still keen, but he was a sick and tired man.
Poirot had warned me not to try and penetrate the personality of X. In my own mind I still clung to my belief that I had penetrated that personality. There was only one person at Styles who struck me as definitely evil. By a simple question, however, I could make sure of one thing. The test would be a negative one, but would nevertheless have a certain value.
I tackled Judith after breakfast.
‘Where had you been yesterday evening when I met you, you and Major Allerton?’
The trouble is that when you are intent on one aspect of a thing, you tend to ignore all other aspects. I was quite startled when Judith flared out at me.
‘Really, Father, I don’t see what business it is of yours.’
I stared at her, rather taken aback. ‘I – I only asked.’
‘Yes, but why ? Why do you have to be continually asking questions? What was I doing? Where did I go? Who was I with? It’s really intolerable!’
The funny part of it was, of course, that this time I was not really asking at all where Judith
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