What are you getting at, mister? Nobodys got anything against me? Everyone knows who did the old girl in[109], that b of a husband of hers.
But he was not in the street that evening and you were.
Trying to fasten it on me, are you? Well, you wont succeed. What reason had I got to do a thing like that? Think I wanted to pinch a tin of her bloody tobacco? Think Im a bloody homicidal maniac[110] as they call it? Think I?
He rose threateningly from his seat. His wife bleated out:
Bert, Bertdont say such things. Berttheyll think
Calm yourself, monsieur, said Poirot. I demand only your account of your visit. That you refuse it seems to mewhat shall we saya little odd?
Who said I refused anything? Mr Riddell sank back again into his seat. I dont mind.
It was six oclock when you entered the shop?
Thats righta minute or two after, as a matter of fact. Wanted a packet of Gold Flake[111]. I pushed open the door
It was closed, then?
Thats right. I thought shop was shut, maybe. But it wasnt. I went in, there wasnt anyone about. I hammered on the counter and waited a bit. Nobody came, so I went out again. Thats all, and you can put it in your pipe and smoke it.
You didnt see the body fallen down behind the counter?
No, no more would you have doneunless you was looking for it, maybe.
Was there a railway guide lying about?
Yes, there wasface downwards. It crossed my mind like that the old woman might have had to go off sudden by train and forgot to lock shop up.
Perhaps you picked up the railway guide or moved it along the counter?
Didnt touch the b thing. I did just what I said.
And you did not see anyone leaving the shop before you yourself got there?
Didnt see any such thing. What I say is, why pitch on me[112] ?
Poirot rose.
Nobody is pitching upon youyet. Bonsoir[113], monsieur.
He left the man with his mouth open and I followed him.
In the street he consulted his watch.
With great haste, my friend, we might manage to catch the 7.02. Let us despatch ourselves quickly.
Chapter 8
The Second Letter
Well? I demanded eagerly.
We were seated in a first-class carriage which we had to ourselves. The train, an express, had just drawn out of Andover.
The crime, said Poirot, was committed by a man of medium height with red hair and a cast in the left eye. He limps slightly on the right foot and has a mole just below the shoulder-blade.
Poirot? I cried.
For the moment I was completely taken in. Then the twinkle in my friends eye undeceived me.
Poirot! I said again, this time in reproach.
Mon ami, what will you? You fix upon me a look of doglike devotion and demand of me a pronouncement a la Sherlock Holmes! Now for the truthI do not know what the murderer looks like, nor where he lives, nor how to set hands upon him.
If only he had left some clue, I murmured.
Yes, the clueit is always the clue that attracts you. Alas that he did not smoke the cigarette and leave the ash, and then step in it with a shoe that has nails of a curious pattern. Nohe is not so obliging. But at least, my friend, you have the railway guide. The ABC, that is a clue for you!
Do you think he left it by mistake then?
Of course not. He left it on purpose. The fingerprints tell us that.
But there werent any on it.
That is what I mean. What was yesterday evening? A warm June night. Does a man stroll about on such an evening in gloves? Such a man would certainly have attracted attention. Therefore since there are no fingerprints on the A В C, it must have been carefully wiped. An innocent man would have left printsa guilty man would not. So our murderer left it there for a purposebut for all that it is none the less a clue. That ABC was bought by someoneit was carried by someonethere is a possibility there.
You think we may learn something that way?
Frankly, Hastings, I am not particularly hopeful. This man, this unknown X, obviously prides himself on his abilities[114]. He is not likely to blaze a trail[115] that can be followed straight away.
So that really the ABC isnt helpful at all.
Not in the sense you mean.
In any sense?
Poirot did not answer at once. Then he said slowly:
The answer to that is yes. We are confronted here by an unknown personage. He is in the dark and seeks to remain in the dark. But in the very nature of things be cannot help throwing light upon himself. In one sense we know nothing about himin another sense we know already a good deal. I see his figure dimly taking shapea man who prints clearly and wellwho buys good-quality paperwho is at great needs to express his personality. I see him as a child possibly ignored and passed over[116]I see him growing up with an inward sense of inferioritywarring with a sense of injustice I see that inner urgeto assert himselfto focus attention on himself ever becoming stronger, and events, circumstancescrushing it downheaping, perhaps, more humiliations on him. And inwardly the match is set to the powder train
Thats all pure conjecture, I objected. It doesnt give you any practical help.
You prefer the match end, the cigarette ash, the nailed boots! You always have. But at least we can ask ourselves some practical questions. Why the ABC? Why Mrs Ascher? Why Andover?