Five Little Pigs by Agatha Christie Page A

Poirot nodded his head slowly. He looked very like a china mandarin. He said:
    â€œYes—I see—it was like that….”
    Meredith Blake pounded suddenly with his fist. His voice rose. It was almost a shout.
    â€œAnd I’ll tell you this Mr. Poirot—when Caroline Crale said at the trial that she took the stuff for herself, I’ll swear she was speaking the truth! There was no thought in her mind of murder at that time. I swear there wasn’t. That came later.”
    Hercule Poirot asked:
    â€œAre you sure that it did come later?”
    Blake stared. He said:
    â€œI beg your pardon? I don’t quite understand—”
    Poirot said:
    â€œI ask you whether you are sure that the thought of murder ever did come? Are you perfectly convinced in your own mind that Caroline Crale did deliberately commit murder?”
    Meredith Blake’s breath came unevenly. He said: “But if not—if not—are you suggesting an—well, accident of some kind?”
    â€œNot necessarily.”
    â€œThat’s a very extraordinary thing to say.”
    â€œIs it? You have called Caroline Crale a gentle creature. Do gentle creatures commit murder?”
    â€œShe was a gentle creature—but all the same—well, there were very violent quarrels, you know.”
    â€œNot such a gentle creature, then?”
    â€œBut she was —Oh, how difficult these things are to explain.”
    â€œI am trying to understand.”
    â€œCaroline had a quick tongue—a vehement way of speaking. She might say ‘I hate you. I wish you were dead.’ But it wouldn’t mean—it wouldn’t entail— action .”
    â€œSo in your opinion, it was highly uncharacteristic of Mrs. Crale to commit murder?”
    â€œYou have the most extraordinary ways of putting things, Mr. Poirot. I can only say that—yes—it does seem to me uncharacteristic of her. I can only explain it by realizing that the provocation was extreme. She adored her husband. Under those circumstances a woman might—well—kill.”
    Poirot nodded. “Yes, I agree….”
    â€œI was dumbfounded at first. I didn’t feel it could be true. And it wasn’t true—if you know what I mean—it wasn’t the real Caroline who did that.”
    â€œBut you are quite sure that—in the legal sense—Caroline Crale did do it?”
    Again Meredith Blake stared at him.
    â€œMy dear man—if she didn’t—”
    â€œWell, if she didn’t?”
    â€œI can’t imagine any alternative solution. Accident? Surely impossible.”
    â€œQuite impossible, I should say.”
    â€œAnd I can’t believe in the suicide theory. It had to be brought forward, but it was quite unconvincing to anyone who knew Crale.”
    â€œQuite.”
    â€œSo what remains?” asked Meredith Blake.
    Poirot said coolly: “There remains the possibility of Amyas Crale having been killed by somebody else.”
    â€œBut that’s absurd!”
    â€œYou think so?”
    â€œI’m sure of it. Who would have wanted to kill him? Who could have killed him?”
    â€œYou are more likely to know than I am.”
    â€œBut you don’t seriously believe—”
    â€œPerhaps not. It interests me to examine the possibility. Give it your serious consideration. Tell me what you think.”
    Meredith stared at him for a minute or two. Then he lowered his eyes. After a minute or two he shook his head. He said:
    â€œI can’t imagine any possible alternative. I should like to do so. If there were any reason for suspecting anybody else I would readily believe Caroline innocent. I don’t want to think she did it. I couldn’t believe it at first. But who else is there? Who else was there. Philip? Crale’s best friend. Elsa? Ridiculous. Myself? Do I look like a murderer? A respectable governess? A couple of old faithful servants? Perhaps