Part 4 (1/2)
I regarded it as closely as I could, but could see 34 Agatha Christie nothing unusual about it. It seemed to me a very ordinary leg of mutton. I said as much. Poirot threw me a withering glance.
”But do you not see this--and this--and this--”
He ill.u.s.trated each ”this” with a jab at the unoffending joint, dislodging small icicles as he did so.
Poirot had just accused me of being imaginative, but I now felt that he was far more wildly so than I had ever been. Did he seriously think these slivers of ice were crystals of a deadly poison? That was the only construction I could put upon his extraordinary agitation.
”It's frozen meat,” I explained gently. ”Imported, you know. New Zealand.”
He stared at me for a moment or two and then broke into a strange laugh.
”How marvellous is my friend Hastings! He knows everything--but everything! How do they say--Inquire Within Upon Everything. That is my friend Hastings.”
He flung down the leg of mutton onto its dish again and left the larder. Then he looked through the window.
”Here comes our friend the Inspector. It is well. I have seen all I want to see here.” He drummed on the table absent-mindedly, as though absorbed in calculation, and then asked suddenly, ”What is the day of the week, monamiT'
”Monday,” I said, rather astonished. ”What--?”
”Ah! Monday, is it? A bad day of the week. To commit a murder on a Monday is a mistake.”
Pa.s.sing back to the living-room, he tapped the gla.s.s on the wall and glanced at the thermometer.
”Set fair, and seventy degrees Fahrenheit. An orthodox English summer's day.”
Ingles was still examining various pieces of Chinese pottery.
THE BIG FOUR 35
”You do not take much interest in this inquiry, monsieur?”
said Poirot.
The other gave a slow smile.
”It's not my job, you see. I'm a connoisseur of some things, but not of this. So I just stand back and keep out of the way. I've learnt patience in the East.”
The Inspector came bustling in, apologising for having been so long away. He insisted on taking us over most of the ground again, but finally we got away.
”I must appreciate your thousand politenesses. Inspector,”
said Poirot, as we were walking down the village street again. ”There is just one more request I should like to put to you.”
”You want to see the body, perhaps, sir?”
”Oh, dear me, no! I have not the least interest in the body. I want to see Robert Grant.”
”You'll have to drive back with me to Moreton to see him, sir.”
”Very well, I will do so. But I must see him and be able to speak to him alone.”
The Inspector caressed his upper lip.
”Well, I don't know about that, sir.”
”I a.s.sure you that if you can get through to Scotland Yard you will receive full authority.”
”I've heard of you, of course, sir, and I know you've done us a good turn now and again. But it's very irregular.”
”Nevertheless, it is necessary,” said Poirot calmly.
”It is necessary for this reason--Grant is not the murderer.”
”What? Who is. then?”
”The murderer was, I should fancy, a youngish man.
He drove up to Granite Bungalow in a trap, which he left outside. He went in, committed the murder, came 36 Agatha Christie out, and drove away again. He was bare-headed, and his clothing was slightly bloodstained.”
”But--but the whole village would have seen him!”
”Not under certain circ.u.mstances.”
”Not if it was dark, perhaps; but the crime was committed in broad daylight.”
Poirot merely smiled.
”And the horse and trap, sir--how could you tell that? Any amount of wheeled vehicles have pa.s.sed along outside. There's no mark of one in particular to be seen.”
”Not with the eyes of the body, perhaps; but with the eyes of the mind, yes.”
The Inspector touched his forehead significantly with a grin at me. I was utterly bewildered, but I had faith in Poirot. Further discussion ended in our all driving back to Moreton with the Inspector. Poirot and I were taken to Grant, but a constable was to be present during the interview. Poirot went straight to the point.