CHAPTER VIII. FRESH SUSPICIONS
There was a moment's stupefied silence. Japp, who was the leastsurprised of any of us, was the first to speak.
"My word," he cried, "you're the goods! And no mistake, Mr. Poirot!These witnesses of yours are all right, I suppose?"
"_Voilà!_ I have prepared a list of them--names and addresses. You mustsee them, of course. But you will find it all right."
"I'm sure of that." Japp lowered his voice. "I'm much obliged to you.A pretty mare's nest arresting him would have been." He turned toInglethorp. "But, if you'll excuse me, sir, why couldn't you say allthis at the inquest?"
"I will tell you why," interrupted Poirot. "There was a certainrumour----"
"A most malicious and utterly untrue one," interrupted Alfred Inglethorpin an agitated voice.
"And Mr. Inglethorp was anxious to have no scandal revived just atpresent. Am I right?"
"Quite right." Inglethorp nodded. "With my poor Emily not yet buried,can you wonder I was anxious that no more lying rumours should bestarted."
"Between you and me, sir," remarked Japp, "I'd sooner have any amountof rumours than be arrested for murder. And I venture to think your poorlady would have felt the same. And, if it hadn't been for Mr. Poirothere, arrested you would have been, as sure as eggs is eggs!"
"I was foolish, no doubt," murmured Inglethorp. "But you do not know,inspector, how I have been persecuted and maligned." And he shot abaleful glance at Evelyn Howard.
"Now, sir," said Japp, turning briskly to John, "I should like to seethe lady's bedroom, please, and after that I'll have a little chat withthe servants. Don't you bother about anything. Mr. Poirot, here, willshow me the way."
As they all went out of the room, Poirot turned and made me a sign tofollow him upstairs. There he caught me by the arm, and drew me aside.
"Quick, go to the other wing. Stand there--just this side of the baizedoor. Do not move till I come." Then, turning rapidly, he rejoined thetwo detectives.
I followed his instructions, taking up my position by the baize door,and wondering what on earth lay behind the request. Why was I tostand in this particular spot on guard? I looked thoughtfully downthe corridor in front of me. An idea struck me. With the exception ofCynthia Murdoch's, every one's room was in this left wing. Had thatanything to do with it? Was I to report who came or went? I stoodfaithfully at my post. The minutes passed. Nobody came. Nothinghappened.
It must have been quite twenty minutes before Poirot rejoined me.
"You have not stirred?"
"No, I've stuck here like a rock. Nothing's happened."
"Ah!" Was he pleased, or disappointed? "You've seen nothing at all?"
"No."
"But you have probably heard something? A big bump--eh, _mon ami?_"
"No."
"Is it possible? Ah, but I am vexed with myself! I am not usuallyclumsy. I made but a slight gesture"--I know Poirot's gestures--"withthe left hand, and over went the table by the bed!"
He looked so childishly vexed and crest-fallen that I hastened toconsole him.
"Never mind, old chap. What does it matter? Your triumph downstairsexcited you. I can tell you, that was a surprise to us all. There mustbe more in this affair of Inglethorp's with Mrs. Raikes than we thought,to make him hold his tongue so persistently. What are you going to donow? Where are the Scotland Yard fellows?"
"Gone down to interview the servants. I showed them all our exhibits. Iam disappointed in Japp. He has no method!"
"Hullo!" I said, looking out of the window. "Here's Dr. Bauerstein. Ibelieve you're right about that man, Poirot. I don't like him."
"He is clever," observed Poirot meditatively.
"Oh, clever as the devil! I must say I was overjoyed to see him in theplight he was in on Tuesday. You never saw such a spectacle!" AndI described the doctor's adventure. "He looked a regular scarecrow!Plastered with mud from head to foot."
"You saw him, then?"
"Yes. Of course, he didn't want to come in--it was just afterdinner--but Mr. Inglethorp insisted."
"What?" Poirot caught me violently by the shoulders. "Was Dr. Bauersteinhere on Tuesday evening? Here? And you never told me? Why did you nottell me? Why? Why?"
He appeared to be in an absolute frenzy.
"My dear Poirot," I expostulated, "I never thought it would interestyou. I didn't know it was of any importance."
"Importance? It is of the first importance! So Dr. Bauerstein was hereon Tuesday night--the night of the murder. Hastings, do you not see?That alters everything--everything!"
I had never seen him so upset. Loosening his hold of me, he mechanicallystraightened a pair of candlesticks, still murmuring to himself: "Yes,that alters everything--everything."
Suddenly he seemed to come to a decision.
"_Allons!_" he said. "We must act at once. Where is Mr. Cavendish?"
John was in the smoking-room. Poirot went straight to him.
"Mr. Cavendish, I have some important business in Tadminster. A newclue. May I take your motor?"
"Why, of course. Do you mean at once?"
"If you please."
John rang the bell, and ordered round the car. In another ten minutes,we were racing down the park and along the high road to Tadminster.
"Now, Poirot," I remarked resignedly, "perhaps you will tell me what allthis is about?"
"Well, _mon ami_, a good deal you can guess for yourself. Of course yourealize that, now Mr. Inglethorp is out of it, the whole position isgreatly changed. We are face to face with an entirely new problem. Weknow now that there is one person who did not buy the poison. We havecleared away the manufactured clues. Now for the real ones. I haveascertained that anyone in the household, with the exception of Mrs.Cavendish, who was playing tennis with you, could have personated Mr.Inglethorp on Monday evening. In the same way, we have his statementthat he put the coffee down in the hall. No one took much notice of thatat the inquest--but now it has a very different significance. We mustfind out who did take that coffee to Mrs. Inglethorp eventually, or whopassed through the hall whilst it was standing there. From your account,there are only two people whom we can positively say did not go near thecoffee--Mrs. Cavendish, and Mademoiselle Cynthia."
"Yes, that is so." I felt an inexpressible lightening of the heart. MaryCavendish could certainly not rest under suspicion.
"In clearing Alfred Inglethorp," continued Poirot, "I have been obligedto show my hand sooner than I intended. As long as I might be thoughtto be pursuing him, the criminal would be off his guard. Now, he willbe doubly careful. Yes--doubly careful." He turned to me abruptly. "Tellme, Hastings, you yourself--have you no suspicions of anybody?"
I hesitated. To tell the truth, an idea, wild and extravagant in itself,had once or twice that morning flashed through my brain. I had rejectedit as absurd, nevertheless it persisted.
"You couldn't call it a suspicion," I murmured. "It's so utterlyfoolish."
"Come now," urged Poirot encouragingly. "Do not fear. Speak your mind.You should always pay attention to your instincts."
"Well then," I blurted out, "it's absurd--but I suspect Miss Howard ofnot telling all she knows!"
"Miss Howard?"
"Yes--you'll laugh at me----"
"Not at all. Why should I?"
"I can't help feeling," I continued blunderingly; "that we've ratherleft her out of the possible suspects, simply on the strength of herhaving been away from the place. But, after all, she was only fifteenmiles away. A car would do it in half an hour. Can we say positivelythat she was away from Styles on the night of the murder?"
"Yes, my friend," said Poirot unexpectedly, "we can. One of my firstactions was to ring up the hospital where she was working."
"Well?"
"Well, I learnt that Miss Howard had been on afternoon duty on Tuesday,and that--a convoy coming in unexpectedly--she had kindly offered toremain on night duty, which offer was gratefully accepted. That disposesof that."
"Oh!" I said, r
ather nonplussed. "Really," I continued, "it's herextraordinary vehemence against Inglethorp that started me offsuspecting her. I can't help feeling she'd do anything against him. AndI had an idea she might know something about the destroying of the will.She might have burnt the new one, mistaking it for the earlier one inhis favour. She is so terribly bitter against him."
"You consider her vehemence unnatural?"
"Y--es. She is so very violent. I wondered really whether she is quitesane on that point."
Poirot shook his head energetically.
"No, no, you are on a wrong tack there. There is nothing weak-mindedor degenerate about Miss Howard. She is an excellent specimen ofwell-balanced English beef and brawn. She is sanity itself."
"Yet her hatred of Inglethorp seems almost a mania. My idea was--a veryridiculous one, no doubt--that she had intended to poison him--and that,in some way, Mrs. Inglethorp got hold of it by mistake. But I don'tat all see how it could have been done. The whole thing is absurd andridiculous to the last degree."
"Still you are right in one thing. It is always wise to suspecteverybody until you can prove logically, and to your own satisfaction,that they are innocent. Now, what reasons are there against MissHoward's having deliberately poisoned Mrs. Inglethorp?"
"Why, she was devoted to her!" I exclaimed.
"Tcha! Tcha!" cried Poirot irritably. "You argue like a child. IfMiss Howard were capable of poisoning the old lady, she would be quiteequally capable of simulating devotion. No, we must look elsewhere.You are perfectly correct in your assumption that her vehemence againstAlfred Inglethorp is too violent to be natural; but you are quite wrongin the deduction you draw from it. I have drawn my own deductions, whichI believe to be correct, but I will not speak of them at present." Hepaused a minute, then went on. "Now, to my way of thinking, there is oneinsuperable objection to Miss Howard's being the murderess."
"And that is?"
"That in no possible way could Mrs. Inglethorp's death benefit MissHoward. Now there is no murder without a motive."
I reflected.
"Could not Mrs. Inglethorp have made a will in her favour?" Poirot shookhis head.
"But you yourself suggested that possibility to Mr. Wells?"
Poirot smiled.
"That was for a reason. I did not want to mention the name of the personwho was actually in my mind. Miss Howard occupied very much the sameposition, so I used her name instead."
"Still, Mrs. Inglethorp might have done so. Why, that will, made on theafternoon of her death may----"
But Poirot's shake of the head was so energetic that I stopped.
"No, my friend. I have certain little ideas of my own about that will.But I can tell you this much--it was not in Miss Howard's favour."
I accepted his assurance, though I did not really see how he could be sopositive about the matter.
"Well," I said, with a sigh, "we will acquit Miss Howard, then. It ispartly your fault that I ever came to suspect her. It was what you saidabout her evidence at the inquest that set me off."
Poirot looked puzzled.
"What did I say about her evidence at the inquest?"
"Don't you remember? When I cited her and John Cavendish as being abovesuspicion?"
"Oh--ah--yes." He seemed a little confused, but recovered himself. "Bythe way, Hastings, there is something I want you to do for me."
"Certainly. What is it?"
"Next time you happen to be alone with Lawrence Cavendish, I want you tosay this to him. 'I have a message for you, from Poirot. He says: "Findthe extra coffee-cup, and you can rest in peace!"' Nothing more. Nothingless."
"'Find the extra coffee-cup, and you can rest in peace.' Is that right?"I asked, much mystified.
"Excellent."
"But what does it mean?"
"Ah, that I will leave you to find out. You have access to the facts.Just say that to him, and see what he says."
"Very well--but it's all extremely mysterious."
We were running into Tadminster now, and Poirot directed the car to the"Analytical Chemist."
Poirot hopped down briskly, and went inside. In a few minutes he wasback again.
"There," he said. "That is all my business."
"What were you doing there?" I asked, in lively curiosity.
"I left something to be analysed."
"Yes, but what?"
"The sample of cocoa I took from the saucepan in the bedroom."
"But that has already been tested!" I cried, stupefied. "Dr. Bauersteinhad it tested, and you yourself laughed at the possibility of therebeing strychnine in it."
"I know Dr. Bauerstein had it tested," replied Poirot quietly.
"Well, then?"
"Well, I have a fancy for having it analysed again, that is all."
And not another word on the subject could I drag out of him.
This proceeding of Poirot's, in respect of the cocoa, puzzled meintensely. I could see neither rhyme nor reason in it. However, myconfidence in him, which at one time had rather waned, was fullyrestored since his belief in Alfred Inglethorp's innocence had been sotriumphantly vindicated.
The funeral of Mrs. Inglethorp took place the following day, and onMonday, as I came down to a late breakfast, John drew me aside, andinformed me that Mr. Inglethorp was leaving that morning, to take up hisquarters at the Stylites Arms until he should have completed his plans.
"And really it's a great relief to think he's going, Hastings,"continued my honest friend. "It was bad enough before, when we thoughthe'd done it, but I'm hanged if it isn't worse now, when we all feelguilty for having been so down on the fellow. The fact is, we've treatedhim abominably. Of course, things did look black against him. I don'tsee how anyone could blame us for jumping to the conclusions we did.Still, there it is, we were in the wrong, and now there's a beastlyfeeling that one ought to make amends; which is difficult, when onedoesn't like the fellow a bit better than one did before. The wholething's damned awkward! And I'm thankful he's had the tact to takehimself off. It's a good thing Styles wasn't the mater's to leave tohim. Couldn't bear to think of the fellow lording it here. He's welcometo her money."
"You'll be able to keep up the place all right?" I asked.
"Oh, yes. There are the death duties, of course, but half my father'smoney goes with the place, and Lawrence will stay with us for thepresent, so there is his share as well. We shall be pinched at first, ofcourse, because, as I once told you, I am in a bit of a hole financiallymyself. Still, the Johnnies will wait now."
In the general relief at Inglethorp's approaching departure, we had themost genial breakfast we had experienced since the tragedy. Cynthia,whose young spirits were naturally buoyant, was looking quite her prettyself again, and we all, with the exception of Lawrence, who seemedunalterably gloomy and nervous, were quietly cheerful, at the opening ofa new and hopeful future.
The papers, of course, had been full of the tragedy. Glaring headlines,sandwiched biographies of every member of the household, subtleinnuendoes, the usual familiar tag about the police having a clue.Nothing was spared us. It was a slack time. The war was momentarilyinactive, and the newspapers seized with avidity on this crime infashionable life: "The Mysterious Affair at Styles" was the topic of themoment.
Naturally it was very annoying for the Cavendishes. The house wasconstantly besieged by reporters, who were consistently deniedadmission, but who continued to haunt the village and the grounds, wherethey lay in wait with cameras, for any unwary members of the household.We all lived in a blast of publicity. The Scotland Yard men came andwent, examining, questioning, lynx-eyed and reserved of tongue. Towardswhat end they were working, we did not know. Had they any clue, or wouldthe whole thing remain in the category of undiscovered crimes?
After breakfast, Dorcas came up to me rather mysteriously, and asked ifshe might have a few words with me.