Yes, indeed. Whats the good of a woman like that? What contribution has she ever made to society? Has she ever had an idea in her head that wasnt of clothes or furs or jewels? As I say, what good is she?
You and I, said Poirot blandly, are certainly much more intelligent than Lady Stubbs. Buthe shook his head sadlyit is true, I fear, that we are not nearly so ornamental.
Ornamental Alec was beginning with a fierce snort, but he was interrupted by the re-entry of Mrs Oliver and Captain Warburton through the window.
CHAPTER 4
You must come and see the clues and things for the Murder Hunt, M. Poirot, said Mrs Oliver breathlessly.
Poirot rose and followed them obediently.
The three of them went across the hall and into a small room furnished plainly as a business office.
Lethal weapons to your left, observed Captain Warburton, waving his hand towards a small baize-covered card table. On it were laid out a small pistol, a piece of lead piping with a rusty sinister stain on it, a blue bottle labelled Poison, a length of clothes line and a hypodermic syringe.
Those are the Weapons, explained Mrs Oliver, and these are the Suspects.
She handed him a printed card which he read with interest.
Suspects
Estelle Glynne a beautiful and mysterious young woman, the guest of
Colonel Blunt the local Squire, whose daughter Joan is married to
Peter Gaye a young Atom Scientist.
Miss Willing a housekeeper.
Quiett a butler.
Maya Stavisky a girl hiker.
Esteban Loyola an uninvited guest.
Poirot blinked and looked towards Mrs Oliver in mute incomprehension.
A magnificent Cast of Characters, he said politely. But permit me to ask, Madame, what does the Competitor do?
Turn the card over, said Captain Warburton.
Poirot did so.
On the other side was printed:
Name and address .........................
Solution:
Name of Murderer: ........................
Weapon: .............................................
Motive: ...............................................
Time and Place: ..............................
Reasons for arriving at your conclusions:
...............................................................
Everyone who enters gets one of these, explained Captain Warburton rapidly. Also a notebook and pencil for copying clues. There will be six clues. You go on from one to the other like a Treasure Hunt, and the weapons are concealed in suspicious places. Heres the first clue. A snapshot. Everyone starts with one of these.
Poirot took the small print from him and studied it with a frown. Then he turned it upside down. He still looked puzzled. Warburton laughed.
Ingenious bit of trick photography, isnt it? he said complacently. Quite simple once you know what it is.
Poirot, who did not know what it was, felt a mounting annoyance.
Some kind of barred window? he suggested.
Looks a bit like it, I admit. No, its a section of a tennis net.
Ah. Poirot looked again at the snapshot. Yes, it is as you sayquite obvious when you have been told what it is!
So much depends on how you look at a thing, laughed Warburton.
That is a very profound truth.
The second clue will be found in a box under the centre of the tennis net. In the box are this empty poison bottlehere, and a loose cork.
Only, you see, said Mrs Oliver rapidly, its a screw-topped bottle[52], so the cork is really the clue.
I know, Madame, that you are always full of ingenuity,
but I do not quite see
Mrs Oliver interrupted him.
Oh, but of course, she said, theres a story. Like in a magazine seriala synopsis. She turned to Captain Warburton. Have you got the leaflets?
Theyve not come from the printers yet.
But they promised!
I know. I know. Everyone always promises. Theyll be ready this evening at six. Im going in to fetch them in the car.
Oh, good.
Mrs Oliver gave a deep sigh and turned to Poirot.
Well, Ill have to tell it you, then. Only Im not very good at telling things. I mean if I write things, I get them perfectly clear, but if I talk, it always sounds the most frightful muddle; and thats why I never discuss my plots with anyone. Ive learnt not to, because if I do, they just look at me blankly and say eryes, butI dont see what happenedand surely that cant possibly make a book. So damping. And not true, because when I write it, it does!
Mrs Oliver paused for breath, and then went on:
Well, its like this. Theres Peter Gaye whos a young Atom Scientist and hes suspected of being in the pay of the Communists, and hes married to this girl, Joan Blunt, and his first wifes dead, but she isnt, and she turns up because shes a secret agent, or perhaps not, I mean she may really be a hikerand the wifes having an affair, and this man Loyola turns up either to meet Maya, or to spy upon her, and theres a blackmailing letter which might be from the housekeeper, or again it might be the butler, and the revolvers missing, and as you dont know who the blackmailing letters to, and the hypodermic syringe[53] fell out at dinner, and after that it disappeared
Mrs Oliver came to a full stop, estimating correctly Poirots reaction.
I know, she said sympathetically. It sounds just a muddle, but it isnt reallynot in my headand when you see the synopsis leaflet, youll find its quite clear.
And, anyway, she ended, the story doesnt really matter, does it? I mean, not to you. All youve got to do is to present the prizesvery nice prizes, the firsts a silver cigarette case shaped like a revolverand say how remarkably clever the solver has been.
Poirot thought to himself that the solver would indeed have been clever. In fact, he doubted very much that there would be a solver. The whole plot and action of the Murder Hunt seemed to him to be wrapped in impenetrable fog[54].
Well, said Captain Warburton cheerfully, glancing at his wrist-watch, Id better be off to the printers and collect.
Mrs Oliver groaned.
If theyre not done
Oh, theyre done all right. I telephoned. So long.
He left the room.
Mrs Oliver immediately clutched Poirot by the arm and demanded in a hoarse whisper:
Well?
Wellwhat?
Have you found out anything? Or spotted anybody?
Poirot replied with mild reproof in his tones:
Everybody and everything seems to me completely normal.
Normal?
Well, perhaps that is not quite the right word. Lady Stubbs, as you say, is definitely subnormal, and Mr Legge would appear to be rather abnormal.
Oh, hes all right, said Mrs Oliver impatiently. Hes had a nervous breakdown.
Poirot did not question the somewhat doubtful wording of this sentence but accepted it at its face value.
Everybody appears to be in the expected state of nervous agitation, high excitement, general fatigue, and strong irritation, which are characteristic of preparations for this form of entertainment. If you could only indicate
Sh! Mrs Oliver grasped his arm again. Someones coming.
It was just like a bad melodrama, Poirot felt, his own irritation mounting.
The pleasant mild face of Miss Brewis appeared round the door.
Oh, there you are, M. Poirot. Ive been looking for you to show you your room.
She led him up the staircase and along a passage to a big airy room looking out over the river.
There is a bathroom just opposite. Sir George talks of adding more bathrooms, but to do so would sadly impair the proportions of the rooms. I hope youll find everything quite comfortable.
Yes, indeed. Poirot swept an appreciative eye over the small bookstand, the reading-lamp and the box labelled Biscuits by the bedside. You seem, in this house, to have everything organized to perfection. Am I to congratulate you, or my charming hostess?
Lady Stubbs time is fully taken up in being charming, said Miss Brewis, a slightly acid note in her voice.
A very decorative young woman, mused Poirot.
As you say.
But in other respects is she not, perhaps He broke off. Pardon. I am indiscreet. I comment on something I ought not, perhaps, to mention.
Miss Brewis gave him a steady look. She said dryly: