Chapter 26

After Dinner Speech

The next day Poirot left Paris. Jane stayed behind with a list of duties to perform. Most of theseseemed singularly meaningless to her, but she carried them out to the best of her powers. She sawJean Dupont twice. He mentioned the expedition which she was to join, and Jane did not dare toundeceive him without orders from Poirot, so she hedged as best she could and turned theconversation to other matters.

Five days later she was recalled to England by a telegram.

Norman met her at Victoria and they discussed recent events.

Very little publicity¹ had been given to the suicide. There had been a paragraph in the papersstating that a Canadian lady, a Mrs Richards, had committed suicide in the Paris- Boulogneexpress, but that was all. There had been no mention of any connexion with the aeroplane murder.

Both Norman and Jane were inclined to be jubilant. Their troubles, they hoped, were at an end.

Norman was not so sanguine² as Jane.

‘They may suspect her of doing her mother in, but now that she’s taken this way out theyprobably won’t bother to go on with the case; and unless it is proved publicly I don’t see whatgood it is going to be to all of us poor devils. From the point of view of the public we shall remainunder suspicion just as much as ever!’

He said as much to Poirot, whom he met a few days later in Piccadilly.

Poirot smiled.

‘You are like all the rest. You think I am an old man who accomplishes nothing! Listen, youshall come tonight to dine with me. Japp is coming, and also our friend Mr Clancy. I have somethings to say that may be interesting.’

The dinner passed off pleasantly. Japp was patronizing and good humoured, Norman wasinterested, and little Mr Clancy was nearly as thrilled as when he had recognized the fatal thorn.

It seemed clear that Poirot was not above trying to impress the little author.

After dinner, when coffee had been drunk, Poirot cleared his throat in a slightly embarrassedmanner, not free from self-importance.

‘My friends,’ he said, ‘Mr Clancy here has expressed interest in what he would call “mymethods, Watson”. (C’est c?a, n’est-ce pas?) I propose, if it will not bore you all’—he pausedsignificantly, and Norman and Japp said quickly, ‘No, no,’ and ‘Most interesting’—‘to give you alittle résumé of my methods in dealing³ with this case.’

He paused and consulted some notes. Japp whispered to Norman:

‘Fancies himself, doesn’t he? Conceit’s that little man’s middle name.’

Poirot looked at him reproachfully and said, ‘Ahem!’

Three politely interested faces were turned to him, and he began:

‘I will start at the beginning, my friends. I will go back to the air liner Prometheus on its ill-fated journey from Paris to Croydon. I am going to tell you my precise ideas and impressions atthe time—passing on to how I came to confirm or modify them in the light of future events.

‘When, just before we reached Croydon, Dr Bryant was approached by the steward⁴ and wentwith him to examine the body, I accompanied him. I had a feeling that it might—who knows?—besomething in my line. I have, perhaps, too professional a point of view where deaths areconcerned. They are divided, in my mind, into two classes—deaths which are my affair and deathswhich are not my affair—and though the latter class is infinitely⁵ more numerous—neverthelesswhenever I come in contact with death I am like the dog who lifts his head and sniffs⁶ the scent⁷.

‘Dr Bryant confirmed the steward’s fear that the woman was dead. As to the cause of death,naturally he could not pronounce on that without a detailed⁸ examination. It was at this point that asuggestion was made—by M. Jean Dupont—that death was due to shock following on a waspsting. In furtherance of this hypothesis, he drew attention to a wasp⁹ that he himself had slaughteredshortly before.

‘Now that was a perfectly¹⁰ plausible¹¹ theory—and one quite likely to be accepted. There was themark on the dead woman’s neck—closely resembling the mark of a sting—and there was the factthat a wasp had been in the plane.

‘But at that moment I was fortunate enough to look down and espy¹² what might at first havebeen taken for the body of yet another wasp. In actuality it was a native thorn with a little teasedyellow and black silk on it.

‘At this point Mr Clancy came forward and made the statement that it was a thorn shot from ablowpipe after the manner of some native tribe. Later, as you all know, the blowpipe itself wasdiscovered.

‘By the time we reached Croydon several ideas were working in my mind. Once I was definitelyon the firm ground, my brain began to work once more with its normal brilliance¹³.’

‘Go it, M. Poirot,’ said Japp with a grin. ‘Don’t have any false modesty¹⁴.’

Poirot threw him a look and went on.

‘One idea presented itself very strongly to me (as it did to everyone else), and that was theaudacity of a crime being committed in such a manner—and the astonishing fact that nobodynoticed its being done!

‘There were two other points that interested me. One was the convenient presence of the wasp.

The other was the discovery of the blowpipe. As I remarked after the inquest to my friend Japp,why on earth did the murderer not get rid of it by passing it out through the ventilating hole in thewindow? The thorn itself might be difficult to trace or identify, but a blowpipe which still retaineda portion of its price label was a very different matter.

‘What was the solution? Obviously that the murderer wanted the blowpipe to be found.

‘But why? Only one answer seemed logical. If a poisoned dart¹⁵ and a blowpipe were found, itwould naturally be assumed that the murder had been committed by a thorn shot from a blowpipe.

Therefore in reality the murder had not been committed that way.

‘On the other hand, as medical evidence was to show, the cause of death was undoubtedly¹⁶ thepoisoned thorn. I shut my eyes and asked myself—what is the surest and most reliable way ofplacing a poisoned thorn in the jugular¹⁷ vein¹⁸? And the answer came immediately: By hand.

‘And that immediately threw light on the necessity for the finding of the blowpipe. Theblowpipe inevitably¹⁹ conveyed the suggestion of distance. If my theory was right, the person whokilled Madame Giselle was a person who went right up to her table and bent²⁰ over her.

‘Was there such a person? Yes, there were two people. The two stewards²¹. Either of them couldgo up to Madame Giselle, lean towards her, and nobody would notice anything unusual.

‘Was there anyone else?

‘Well, there was Mr Clancy. He was the only person in the car who had passed immediately byMadame Giselle’s seat—and I remembered that it was he who had first drawn²² attention to theblowpipe and thorn theory.’

Mr Clancy sprang to his feet.

‘I protest,’ he cried. ‘I protest. This is an outrage²³.’

‘Sit down,’ said Poirot. ‘I have not finished yet. I have to show you all the steps by which Iarrived at my conclusion.

‘I had now three persons as possible suspects—Mitchell, Davis, and Mr Clancy. None of themat first sight appeared likely murderers, but there was much investigation²⁴ to be done.

‘I next turned my mind to the possibilities of the wasp. It was suggestive, that wasp. To beginwith, no one had noticed it until about the time coffee was served. That in itself was rather curious.

I constructed a certain theory of the crime. The murderer presented to the world two separatesolutions of the tragedy. On the first or simplest, Madame Giselle was stung by a wasp and hadsuccumbed to heart failure. The success of that solution depended on whether or no the murdererwas in a position to retrieve²⁵ the thorn. Japp and I agreed that that could be done easily enough—solong as no suspicion of foul²⁶ play had arisen. There was the particular colouring of silk which I hadno doubt was deliberately²⁷ substituted for the original cerise so as to simulate the appearance of awasp.

‘Our murderer, then, approaches the victim’s table, inserts the thorn and releases the wasp! Thepoison is so powerful that death would occur almost immediately. If Giselle cried out—it wouldprobably not be heard owing to the noise of the plane. If it was just noticed, well, there was thewasp buzzing about to explain the cry. The poor woman had been stung.

‘That, as I say, was plan No. 1. But supposing that, as actually happened, the poisoned thornwas discovered before the murderer could retrieve it. In that case the fat is in the fire. The theoryof the natural death is impossible. Instead of getting rid of the blowpipe through the window, it isput in a place where it is bound to be discovered when the plane is searched; and at once it will beassumed that the blowpipe was the instrument of the crime. The proper atmosphere of distancewill be created and when the blowpipe is traced it will focus suspicion in a definite andprearranged direction.

‘I had now my theory of the crime, and I had three suspects with a barely possible fourth—M.

Jean Dupont, who had outlined the “Death by a Wasp Sting theory”, and who was sitting on thegangway so near Giselle that he might just possibly have moved from it without being noticed. Onthe other hand, I did not really think he would have dared to take such a risk.

‘I concentrated on the problem of the wasp. If the murderer had brought the wasp on to theplane and released it at the psychological moment—he must have had something in the nature of asmall box in which to keep it.

‘Hence my interest in the contents of the passengers’ pockets and hand luggage.

‘And here I came up against a totally unexpected development. I found what I was looking for—but as it seemed to me on the wrong person. There was an empty small-sized Bryant & May’smatch-box in Mr Norman Gale²⁸’s pocket. But by everybody’s evidence Mr Gale had never passeddown the gangway of the car. He had only visited the toilet compartment²⁹ and returned to his ownseat.

‘Nevertheless, although it seems impossible, there was a method by which Mr Gale could havecommited the crime—as the contents of his attaché case showed.’

‘My attaché case?’ said Norman Gale. He looked amused and puzzled. ‘Why, I don’t evenremember now what was in it.’

Poirot smiled at him amiably³⁰.

‘Wait a little minute. I will come to that. I am telling you my first ideas.

‘To proceed—I had four persons who could have done the crime—from the point of view ofpossibility: the two stewards, Clancy and Gale.

‘I now looked at the case from the opposite angle—that of motive³¹—if a motive were to coincidewith a possibility—well, I had my murderer! But alas³², I could find nothing of the kind. My friendJapp has accused me of liking³³ to make things difficult. On the contrary, I approached this questionof motive with all the simplicity³⁴ in the world. To whose benefit would it be if Madame Gisellewere removed? Clearly to her unknown daughter’s benefit—since that unknown daughter wouldinherit a fortune. There were also certain persons who were in Madame Giselle’s power, or shallwe say — who might be in Giselle’s power, for aught we knew. That, then, was a task ofelimination. Of the passengers in the plane I could only be certain of one who was undoubtedlymixed up with Giselle. That one was Lady Horbury.

‘In Lady Horbury’s case the motive was very clear. She had visited Giselle at her house in Paristhe night before. She was desperate and she had a friend, a young actor, who might easily haveimpersonated the American who bought the blowpipe—and might also have bribed³⁵ the clerk inUniversal Airlines to ensure that Giselle travelled by the 12 o’clock service.

‘I had, as it were, a problem in two halves. I did not see how it was possible for Lady Horburyto commit the crime; and I could not see for what motive the stewards, Mr Clancy, or Mr Galeshould want to commit it.

‘Always, in the back of my mind, I considered the problem of Giselle’s unknown daughter andheiress. Were any of my four suspects married—and if so, could one of the wives be this AnneMorisot? If her father was English, the girl might have been brought up in England. Mitchell’swife I soon dismissed—she was of good old Dorset stock. Davis was courting a girl whose fatherand mother were alive. Mr Clancy was not married. Mr Gale was obviously head over ears in lovewith Miss Jane Grey.

‘I may say that I investigated the antecedents of Miss Grey very carefully, having learned fromher in casual conversation that she had been brought up in an orphanage³⁶ near Dublin. But I soonsatisfied myself that Miss Grey was not Madame Giselle’s daughter.

‘I made out a table of results—the stewards had neither gained nor lost by Madame Giselle’sdeath—except that Mitchell was obviously suffering from shock. Mr Clancy was planning a bookon the subject by which he hoped to make money. Mr Gale was fast losing his practice. Nothingvery helpful there.

‘And yet, at that time, I was convinced that Mr Gale was the murderer—there was the emptymatch-box—the contents of his attaché case. Apparently³⁷ he lost, not gained, by the death ofGiselle. But those appearances might be false appearances.

‘I determined³⁸ to cultivate his acquaintance. It is my experience that no one, in the course ofconversation, can fail to give themselves away sooner or later…Everyone has an irresistible³⁹ urgeto talk about themselves.

‘I tried to gain Mr Gale’s confidence. I pretended to confide⁴⁰ in him, and I even enlisted⁴¹ his help.

I persuaded him to aid me in the fake blackmailing⁴² of Lady Horbury. And it was then that he madehis first mistake.

‘I had suggested a slight disguise. He arrived to play his part with a ridiculous and impossibleoutfit! The whole thing was a farce⁴³. No one, I felt sure, could play a part as badly as he wasproposing to play one. What then was the reason for this? Because his knowledge of his own guiltmade him chary⁴⁴ of showing himself to be a good actor. When, however, I had adjusted hisridiculous makeup⁴⁵, his artistic⁴⁶ skill showed itself. He played his part perfectly and Lady Horburydid not recognize him. I was convinced then that he could have disguised himself as an Americanin Paris and could also have played the necessary part in the Prometheus.

‘By this time I was getting seriously worried about Mademoiselle Jane. Either she was in thisbusiness with him, or else she was entirely⁴⁷ innocent—and in the latter case she was a victim. Shemight wake up one day to find herself married to a murderer.

With the object of preventing a precipitate⁴⁸ marriage, I took Mademoiselle Jane to Paris as mysecretary.

‘It was whilst we were there that the missing heiress appeared to claim her fortune. I washaunted by a resemblance that I could not place. I did place it in the end—but too late…‘At first the discovery that she had actually been in the plane and had lied about it seemed tooverthrow all my theories. Here, overwhelmingly, was the guilty person.

‘But if she were guilty she had an accomplice—the man who bought the blowpipe and bribedJules Perrot.

‘Who was that man? Was it conceivably her husband?

‘And—then—suddenly I saw the true solution. True, that is, if one point could be verified.

‘For my solution to be correct Anne Morisot ought not to have been on the plane.

‘I rang up Lady Horbury and got my answer. The maid, Madeleine, travelled in the plane by alast-minute whim⁴⁹ of her mistress.’

He stopped.

Mr Clancy said:

‘Ahem—but—I’m afraid I’m not quite clear.’

‘When did you stop pitching on me as the murderer?’ asked Norman.

Poirot wheeled round on him.

‘I never stopped. You are the murderer…Wait—I will tell you everything. For the last weekJapp and I have been busy—It is true that you became a dentist to please your uncle—John Gale.

You took his name when you came into partnership⁵⁰ with him—but you were his sister’s son—nothis brother’s. Your real name is Richards. It was as Richards that you met the girl Anne Morisot atNice last winter, when she was there with her mistress. The story she told us was true as to thefacts of her childhood, but the latter part was edited carefully by you. She did know her mother’smaiden name. Giselle was at Monte Carlo — she was pointed⁵¹ out and her real name wasmentioned. You realized that there might be a large fortune to be got. It appealed to yourgambler’s nature. It was from Anne Morisot that you learnt of Lady Horbury’s connexion withGiselle. The plan of the crime formed itself in your head. Giselle was to be murdered in such away that suspicion would fall on Lady Horbury. Your plans matured and finally fructified⁵². Youbribed the clerk in Universal Airlines so that Giselle should travel on the same plane as LadyHorbury. Anne Morisot had told you that she herself was going to England by train—you neverexpected her to be on the plane—and it seriously jeopardized⁵³ your plans. If it was once known thatGiselle’s daughter and heiress had been on the plane suspicion would naturally have fallen uponher. Your original idea was that she should claim the inheritance with a perfect alibi⁵⁴, since shewould have been on a train or boat at the time of the crime; and then you would have married her.

‘The girl was by this time infatuated with you. But it was money you were after—not the girlherself.

‘There was another complication to your plans. At Le Pinet you saw Mademoiselle Jane Greyand fell madly in love with her. Your passion for her drove you on to play a much more dangerousgame.

‘You intended to have both the money and the girl you loved. You were committing a murderfor the sake of money, and you were in no mind to relinquish⁵⁵ the fruits of the crime. Youfrightened Anne Morisot by telling her that if she came forward at once to proclaim her identityshe would certainly be suspected of the murder. Instead you induced her to ask for a few days’

leave, and you went together to Rotterdam, where you were married.

‘In due course you primed her how to claim the money. She was to say nothing of heremployment as lady’s maid, and it was very clearly to be made plain that she and her husband hadbeen abroad at the time of the murder.

‘Unfortunately, the date planned for Anne Morisot to go to Paris and claim her inheritancecoincided with my arrival in Paris, where Miss Grey had accompanied me. That did not suit yourbook at all. Either Mademoiselle Jane or myself might recognize in Anne Morisot the Madeleinewho had been Lady Horbury’s maid.

‘You tried to get in touch with her in time, but failed. You finally arrived in Paris yourself andfound she had already gone to the lawyer. When she returned she told you of her meeting with me.

Things were becoming dangerous, and you made up your mind to act quickly.

‘It had been your intention that your new-made wife should not survive her accession to wealthvery long. Immediately after the marriage ceremony you had both made wills leaving all you hadone to the other! A very touching⁵⁶ business.

‘You intended, I fancy, to follow a fairly leisurely⁵⁷ course. You would have gone to Canada—ostensibly because of the failure of your practice. There you would have resumed the name ofRichards and your wife would have rejoined you. All the same I do not fancy it would have beenvery long before Mrs Richards regrettably died, leaving a fortune to a seemingly inconsolablewidower. You would then have returned to England as Norman Gale, having had the good fortuneto make a lucky speculation⁵⁸ in Canada! But now you decided⁵⁹ that no time must be lost.’

Poirot paused and Norman Gale threw back his head and laughed.

‘You are very clever at knowing what people intend to do! You ought to adopt Mr Clancy’sprofession!’ His tone deepened to one of anger. ‘I never heard such a farrago of nonsense. Whatyou imagined, M. Poirot, is hardly evidence!’

Poirot did not seem put out. He said:

‘Perhaps not. But, then, I have some evidence.’

‘Really?’ sneered⁶⁰ Norman. ‘Perhaps you have evidence as to how I killed old Giselle wheneveryone in the aeroplane knows perfectly well I never went near her?’

‘I will tell you exactly how you committed the crime,’ said Poirot. ‘What about the contents ofyour dispatch-case? You were on a holiday. Why take a dentist’s linen⁶¹ coat? That is what I askedmyself. And the answer is this—because it resembled so closely a steward’s coat…‘That is what you did. When coffee was served and the stewards had gone to the othercompartment you went to the toilet, put on your linen coat, padded your cheeks with cottonwoolrolls, came out, seized a coffee spoon from the box in the pantry opposite, hurried down thegangway with the steward’s quick run, spoon in hand, to Giselle’s table. You thrust the thorn intoher neck, opened the match-box and let the wasp escape, hurried back into the toilet, changed yourcoat and emerged leisurely to return to your table. The whole thing took only a couple of minutes.

‘Nobody notices a steward particularly. The only person who might have recognized you wasMademoiselle Jane. But you know women! As soon as a woman is left alone (particularly whenshe is travelling with an attractive young man) she seizes the opportunity to have a good look inher hand mirror, powder her nose and adjust her makeup.’

‘Really,’ sneered Gale. ‘A most interesting theory; but it didn’t happen. Anything else?’

‘Quite a lot,’ said Poirot. ‘As I have just said, in the course of conversation a man gives himselfaway…You were imprudent enough to mention that for a while you were on a farm in SouthAfrica. What you did not say, but what I have since found out, is that it was a snake farm…’

For the first time Norman Gale showed fear. He tried to speak, but the words would not come.

Poirot continued:

‘You were there under your own name of Richards; a photograph of you transmitted bytelephone has been recognized. That same photograph has been identified in Rotterdam as the manRichards who married Anne Morisot.’

Again Norman Gale tried to speak and failed. His whole personality seemed to change. Thehandsome, vigorous young man turned into a rat-like creature with furtive⁶² eyes looking for a wayof escape and finding none…

‘It was haste ruined your plan,’ said Poirot. ‘The Superior of the Institut de Marie hurried thingson by wiring to Anne Morisot. It would have looked suspicious to ignore that wire. You hadimpressed it upon your wife that unless she suppressed certain facts either she or you might besuspected of murder, since you had both unfortunately been in the plane when Giselle was killed.

When you met her afterwards and you learnt that I had been present at the interview you hurriedthings on. You were afraid I might get the truth out of Anne—perhaps she herself was beginningto suspect you. You hustled⁶³ her away out of the hotel and into the boat train. You administeredprussic acid to her by force and you left the empty bottle in her hand.’

‘A lot of damned lies…’

‘Oh, no. There was a bruise⁶⁴ on her neck.’

‘Damned lies, I tell you.’

‘You even left your fingerprints⁶⁵ on the bottle.’

‘You lie. I wore—’

‘Ah, you wore gloves…? I think, Monsieur, that little admission cooks your gander.’

‘You damned interfering⁶⁶ little mountebank⁶⁷!’ Livid with passion, his face unrecognizable, Galemade a spring at Poirot. Japp, however, was too quick for him. Holding him in a capableunemotional grip, Japp said:

‘James Richards, alias⁶⁸ Norman Gale, I hold a warrant for your arrest on the charge of wilfulmurder. I must warn you that anything you say will be taken down and used in evidence.’

A terrible shudder⁶⁹ shook the man. He seemed on the point of collapse⁷⁰.

A couple of plain-clothes men were waiting outside. Norman Gale was taken away.

Left alone with Poirot, little Mr Clancy drew a deep breath of ecstasy⁷¹.

‘M. Poirot,’ he said. ‘That has been absolutely the most thrilling experience of my life. Youhave been wonderful!’

Poirot smiled modestly.

‘No, no. Japp deserves as much credit as I do. He has done wonders in identifying Gale asRichards. The Canadian police want Richards. A girl he was mixed up with there is supposed tohave committed suicide, but facts have come to light which seem to point to murder.’

‘Terrible,’ Mr Clancy chirped⁷².

‘A killer,’ said Poirot. ‘And like many killers⁷³, attractive to women.’

Mr Clancy coughed.

‘That poor girl, Jane Grey.’

Poirot shook his head sadly.

‘Yes, as I said to her, life can be very terrible. But she has courage. She will come through.’

With an absent- minded hand he arranged a pile of picture papers that Norman Gale haddisarranged in his wild spring.

Something arrested his attention—a snapshot of Venetia Kerr at a race meeting, ‘talking to LordHorbury and a friend.’

He handed it to Mr Clancy.

‘You see that? In a year’s time there will be an announcement: “A marriage is arranged andwill shortly take place between Lord Horbury and the Hon. Venetia Kerr.” And do you know whowill have arranged that marriage? Hercule Poirot! There is another marriage that I have arranged,too.’

‘Lady Horbury and Mr Barraclough?’

‘Ah, no, in that matter I take no interest.’ He leaned forward. ‘No—I refer to a marriagebetween M. Jean Dupont and Miss Jane Grey. You will see.’

 

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