Dr Bryant. Result—good if RT 362.
Mr Ryder. Result—good, owing to small amount of cash obtained through articles on murder which tided firm over delicate time. Also good if Ryder is XVB724.
M. Dupont. Result—unaffected.
M. Jean Dupont. Result—the same.
Mitchell. Result—unaffected.
Davis. Result—unaffected.
‘And you think that’s going to help you?’ asked Japp sceptically. ‘I can’t see that writing down “I don’t know. I don’t know. I can’t tell,” makes it any better.’
‘It gives one a clear classification,’ explained Poirot. ‘In four cases—Mr Clancy, Miss Grey, Mr Ryder, and I think I may say Lady Horbury—there is a result on the credit side. In the cases of Mr Gale and Miss Kerr there is a result on the debit side—in four cases there is no result at all—so far as we know—and in one, Dr Bryant, there is either no result or a distinct gain.’
‘And so?’ asked Japp.
‘And so,’ said Poirot, ‘we must go on seeking.’
‘With precious little to go upon,’ said Japp gloomily. ‘The truth of it is that we’re hung up until we can get what we want from Paris. It’s the Giselle side that wants going into. I bet I could have got more out of that maid than Fournier did.’
‘I doubt it, my friend. The most interesting thing about this case is the personality of the dead woman. A woman without friends—without relations—without, as one might say—any personal life. A woman who was once young, who once loved and suffered and then—with a firm hand pulled down the shutter—all that was over; not a photograph, not a souvenir, not a knick-knack. Marie Morisot became Madame Giselle—moneylender.’
‘Do you think there is a clue in her past?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Well, we could do with it! There aren’t any clues in this case.’
‘Oh, yes, my friend, there are.’
‘The blowpipe, of course—’
‘No, no, not the blowpipe.’
‘Well, let’s hear your ideas of the clues in the case.’
Poirot smiled.
‘I will give them titles—like the names of Mr Clancy’s stories: The Clue of the Wasp. The Clue in the Passenger’s Baggage. The Clue of the Extra Coffee Spoon.’
‘You’re potty,’ said Japp kindly, and added: ‘What’s this about a coffee spoon?’
‘Madame Giselle had two spoons in her saucer.’
‘That’s supposed to mean a wedding.’
‘In this case,’ said Poirot, ‘it meant a funeral.’
Chapter 22
Jane Takes a New Job
When Norman Gale, Jane and Poirot met for dinner on the night after the ‘blackmailing incident’ Norman was relieved to hear that his services as ‘Mr Robinson’ were no longer required.
‘He is dead, the good Mr Robinson,’ said Poirot. He raised his glass. ‘Let us drink to his memory.’