The Wilmington morning star., 1947-08-02
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thlng. But l am Inundated t,
have to say that my impre ssion
are v%alueless. l was under tn,
mlsconception, induced by the Wis
ual evidence, hat Mrs. Christov
had just shot her husband, so tina
when DR.. Christow opened hi
eyes and said Henrietta l neve
thought of it as being an accuse
ton. 1t is tempting now, lookin,
back, to read into that seen,
something that was not there"
Il know what you mean" salt
Grange. but it seems to me tina
since Henrietta was the las
word Christow spoke. it must hav,
meant one or two things. It wa:
either an accusation of murder O
else it was-well, purely emo
tlonal. She's the woman he was i,
love with and he was dying. Now
bearing everything in mind, whicl
of the two did it sound like t.
your"
Poirot sighed, stirred, closed hi
eyes, opened them again, stretch
ed. out his hands in acute vexh
ton. He said:
His voice was urgent-that i
all I can say-urgent. It seemed
to me neither accusing nor emo
tional- but urgent, yes! And o
one thing I am sure. He was il
full possession of his faculties. Hi
spoke-yes, he spoke like a doctor
"a doctor who has, say, a sudde1
surgical emergency on his hand:
- a patient who is bleeding tt
death, perhaps. 80" Poirot shrug
ged his shoulders. THAT is thu
best, I can do for YOU"
Medical, eh?" said the inspec
to-. well, yes, that is a THIRD
way of looking at it. He a shot
he suspected be was dying, hi
wanted something done for hin
quickly. And if, as Lady Anglia
tell says, Miss Savernake was the
FIRST person he saw when his eye:
opened, then he would appeal t.
her. It's not very satisfactory
though"
Nothing about this cas- is sat
isfactory," said Poirot with some
bitterness.
A murder scene, set and staged
to deceive Hercule Poirot-ane
which had deceived him! No, i
a not satisfactory.
Inspector Grange was looking
out of the window.
"Hullo," he said, there's
Coombes, my sergeant. Looks as
though he's got something. He!
been working on the servants-tht
friendly touch. He's a nice looking
chap, got a way with women"
Sergeant Coombes came. in a lit
tie breathlessly. He was clearly
/ pleased with himself, though sub
| DUNG the fact under a respectful
official manner.
Thought I'd better come ane
report, sir, since I knew where
you'd gone"
He hesitated, shooting a doubt
full glance at Poirot whose exotic
foreign appearance did not COM
mend itself to his sense of official
reticence.
"Out with it, my lad said
Grange. Never mind M. Polrot
here. He's forgotten more about
this game than you'll know for
many years to come"
Eyes, sir. It's this way, sir.
got something out of the kitchen
maid"
Grange interrupted. He turned
to Poirot triumphantly.
"What did 1 tell you? There's
always hope where there's a kitch-
en- maid. Heaven help us when
domestic stats are so reduced
that nobody keeps a kitchen maid
any more. Kitchen maids talk,
kitchen maids babble. They're so
kept down and in their place by
the cook and the upper servants
that it's only human nature to
talk about what they know to
someone who wants to hear it.
Go on, Coombes."
"This is what the girl says, sir.
That on Sunday afternoon she
saw Gudgeon, the butler, walking
across the hall with a revolver in
his hand"
"Gudgeon?"
eyes. sir" Coombes referred to
a notebook. '"These are her own
words. I don't know what to do,
but I think l ought to say what l
saw that day. I saw Mr.. Gudgeon:
he was standing in the hall with