Four

FIRST MURDERER?

Hercule Poirot, Mrs. Oliver, Colonel Race and Superintendent¹ Battle sat round the dining roomtable.

It was an hour later. The body had been examined, photographed and removed. A fingerprintexpert had been and gone.

Superintendent Battle looked at Poirot.

“Before I have those four in, I want to hear what you’ve got to tell me. According to you therewas something behind this party tonight?”

Very deliberately² and carefully Poirot retold the conversation he had held with Shaitana atWessex House.

Superintendent Battle pursed his lips. He very nearly whistled.

“Exhibits—eh? Murderers all alive oh! And you think he meant it? You don’t think he waspulling your leg?”

Poirot shook his head.

“Oh, no, he meant it. Shaitana was a man who prided himself on his Mephistophelian attitude tolife. He was a man of great vanity. He was also a stupid man—that is why he is dead.”

“I get you,” said Superintendent Battle, following things out in his mind. “A party of eight andhimself. Four ‘sleuths,’ so to speak—and four murderers!”

“It’s impossible!” cried Mrs. Oliver. “Absolutely impossible. None of those people can becriminals.”

Superintendent Battle shook his head thoughtfully.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Mrs. Oliver. Murderers look and behave very much likeeverybody else. Nice, quiet, well-behaved, reasonable folk very often.”

“In that case, it’s Dr. Roberts,” said Mrs. Oliver firmly. “I felt instinctively³ that there wassomething wrong with that man as soon as I saw him. My instincts never lie.”

Battle turned to Colonel Race.

Race shrugged⁴ his shoulders. He took the question as referring to Poirot’s statment and not toMrs. Oliver’s suspicions.

“It could be,” he said. “It could be. It shows that Shaitana was right in one case at least! Afterall, he can only have suspected that these people were murderers—he can’t have been sure. Hemay have been right in all four cases, he may have been right in only one case—but he was rightin one case; his death proved that.”

“One of them got the wind up. Think that’s it, M. Poirot?”

Poirot nodded.

“The late Mr. Shaitana had a reputation,” he said. “He had a dangerous sense of humour, andwas reputed to be merciless. The victim thought that Shaitana was giving himself an evening’samusement, leading up to a moment when he’d hand the victim over to the police—you! He (orshe) must have thought that Shaitana had definite evidence.”

“Had he?”

Poirot shrugged his shoulders.

“That we shall never know.”

“Dr. Roberts!” repeated Mrs. Oliver firmly. “Such a hearty⁵ man. Murderers are often hearty—asa disguise! If I were you, Superintendent Battle, I should arrest him at once.”

“I daresay we would if there was a Woman at the Head of Scotland Yard,” said SuperintendentBattle, a momentary⁶ twinkle showing in his unemotional eye. “But, you see, mere⁷ men being incharge, we’ve got to be careful. We’ve got to get there slowly.”

“Oh, men—men,” sighed Mrs. Oliver, and began to compose newspaper articles in her head.

“Better have them in now,” said Superintendent Battle. “It won’t do to keep them hanging abouttoo long.”

Colonel Race half rose.

“If you’d like us to go—”

Superintendent Battle hesitated a minute as he caught Mrs. Oliver’s eloquent⁸ eye. He was wellaware of Colonel Race’s official position, and Poirot had worked with the police on manyoccasions. For Mrs. Oliver to remain was decidedly stretching a point. But Battle was a kindlyman. He remembered that Mrs. Oliver had lost three pounds and seven shillings at bridge, and thatshe had been a cheerful loser.

“You can all stay,” he said, “as far as I’m concerned. But no interruptions, please (he looked atMrs. Oliver), and there mustn’t be a hint of what M. Poirot has just told us. That was Shaitana’slittle secret, and to all intents and purposes it died with him. Understand?”

“Perfectly⁹,” said Mrs. Oliver.

Battle strode to the door and called the constable¹⁰ who was on duty in the hall.

“Go to the little smoking room. You’ll find Anderson there with four guests. Ask Dr. Roberts ifhe’ll be so good as to step this way.”

“I should have kept him to the end,” said Mrs. Oliver. “In a book, I mean,” she addedapologetically.

“Real life’s a bit different,” said Battle.

“I know,” said Mrs. Oliver. “Badly constructed.”

Dr. Roberts entered with the springiness of his step slightly subdued¹¹.

“I say, Battle,” he said. “This is the devil of a business! Excuse me, Mrs. Oliver, but it is.

Professionally speaking, I could hardly have believed it! To stab a man with three other people afew yards away.” He shook his head. “Whew! I wouldn’t like to have done it!” A slight smiletwitched up the corners of his mouth. “What can I say or do to convince you that I didn’t do it?”

“Well, there’s motive¹², Dr. Roberts.”

The doctor nodded his head emphatically.

“That’s all clear. I hadn’t the shadow of a motive for doing away with poor Shaitana. I didn’teven know him very well. He amused me—he was such a fantastic fellow. Touch of the Orientalabout him. Naturally, you’ll investigate my relations with him closely—I expect that. I’m not afool. But you won’t find anything. I’d no reason for killing¹³ Shaitana, and I didn’t kill him.”

Superintendent Battle nodded woodenly.

“That’s all right, Dr. Roberts. I’ve got to investigate as you know. You’re a sensible man. Now,can you tell me anything about the other three people?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know very much. Despard and Miss Meredith I met for the first time tonight.

I knew of Despard before—read his travel book, and a jolly good yarn¹⁴ it is.”

“Did you know that he and Mr. Shaitana were acquainted?”

“No. Shaitana never mentioned him to me. As I say, I’d heard of him, but never met him. MissMeredith I’ve never seen before. Mrs. Lorrimer I know slightly.”

“What do you know about her?”

Roberts shrugged his shoulders.

“She’s a widow. Moderately well off. Intelligent, well-bred woman—first-class bridge player.

That’s where I’ve met her, as a matter of fact—playing bridge.”

“And Mr. Shaitana never mentioned her, either?”

“No.”

“H’m—that doesn’t help us much. Now, Dr. Roberts, perhaps you’ll be so kind as to tax yourmemory carefully and tell me how often you yourself left your seat at the bridge table, and all youcan remember about the movements of the others.”

Dr. Roberts took a few minutes to think.

“It’s difficult,” he said frankly¹⁵. “I can remember my own movements, more or less. I got upthree times—that is, on three occasions when I was dummy¹⁶ I left my seat and made myself useful.

Once I went over and put wood on the fire. Once I brought drinks to the two ladies. Once I pouredout a whisky and soda¹⁷ for myself.”

“Can you remember the times?”

“I could only say very roughly. We began to play about nine thirty, I imagine. I should say itwas about an hour later that I stoked the fire, quite a short time after that I fetched the drinks (nexthand but one, I think), and perhaps half past eleven when I got myself a whisky and soda—butthose times are quite approximate. I couldn’t answer for their being correct.”

“The table with the drinks was beyond Mr. Shaitana’s chair?”

“Yes. That’s to say, I passed quite near him three times.”

“And each time, to the best of your belief, he was asleep?”

“That’s what I thought the first time. The second time I didn’t even look at him. Third time Irather fancy the thought just passed through my mind: ‘How the beggar does sleep.’ But I didn’treally look closely at him.”

“Very good. Now, when did your fellow players leave their seats?”

Dr. Roberts frowned.

“Difficult—very difficult. Despard went and fetched an extra ashtray¹⁸, I think. And he went for adrink. That was before me, for I remember he asked me if I’d have one, and I said I wasn’t quiteready.”

“And the ladies?”

“Mrs. Lorrimer went over to the fire once. Poked¹⁹ it, I think. I rather fancy she spoke²⁰ to Shaitana,but I don’t know. I was playing a rather tricky²¹ no trump²² at the time.”

“And Miss Meredith?”

“She certainly left the table once. Came round and looked at my hand—I was her partner at thetime. Then she looked at the other people’s hands, and then she wandered round the room. I don’tknow what she was doing exactly. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Superintendent Battle said thoughtfully:

“As you were sitting at the bridge table, no one’s chair was directly facing the fireplace?”

“No, sort of sideways on, and there was a big cabinet between—Chinese piece, very handsome.

I can see, of course, that it would be perfectly possible to stab the old boy. After all, when you’replaying bridge, you’re playing bridge. You’re not looking round you, and noticing what is goingon. The only person who’s likely to be doing that is dummy. And in this case—”

“In this case, undoubtedly²³, dummy was the murderer,” said Superintendent Battle.

“All the same,” said Dr. Roberts, “it wanted nerve, you know. After all, who is to say thatsomebody won’t look up just at the critical moment?”

“Yes,” said Battle. “It was a big risk. The motive must have been a strong one. I wish we knewwhat it was,” he added with unblushing mendacity.

“You’ll find out, I expect,” said Roberts. “You’ll go through his papers, and all that sort ofthing. There will probably be a clue.”

“We’ll hope so,” said Superintendent Battle gloomily.

He shot a keen glance at the other.

“I wonder if you’d oblige me, Dr. Roberts, by giving me a personal opinion—as man to man.”

“Certainly.”

“Which do you fancy yourself of the three?”

Dr. Roberts shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s easy. Offhand²⁴, I’d say Despard. The man’s got plenty of nerve; he’s used to a dangerouslife where you’ve got to act quickly. He wouldn’t mind taking a risk. It doesn’t seem to me likelythe women are in on this. Take a bit of strength, I should imagine.”

“Not so much as you might think. Take a look at this.”

Rather like a conjurer, Battle suddenly produced a long thin instrument of gleaming metal witha small round jewelled head.

Dr. Roberts leaned forward, took it, and examined it with rich professional appreciation²⁵. Hetried the point and whistled.

“What a tool! What a tool! Absolutely made for murder, this little boy. Go in like butter—absolutely like butter. Brought it with him, I suppose.”

“No. It was Mr. Shaitana’s. It lay on the table near the door with a good many otherknickknacks.”

“So the murderer helped himself. A bit of luck finding a tool like that.”

“Well, that’s one way of looking at it,” said Battle slowly.

“Well, of course, it wasn’t luck for Shaitana, poor fellow.”

“I didn’t mean that, Dr. Roberts. I meant that there was another angle of looking at the business.

It occurs to me that it was noticing this weapon that put the idea of murder into our criminal’smind.”

“You mean it was a sudden inspiration—that the murder wasn’t premeditated? He conceivedthe idea after he got here? Er—anything to suggest that idea to you?”

He glanced at him searchingly.

“It’s just an idea,” said Superintendent Battle stolidly²⁶.

“Well, it might be so, of course,” said Dr. Roberts slowly.

Superintendent Battle cleared his throat.

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer, doctor. Thank you for your help. Perhaps you’ll leave youraddress.”

“Certainly. 200 Gloucester Terrace, W. 2. Telephone No. Bayswater 23896.”

“Thank you. I may have to call upon you shortly.”

“Delighted to see you anytime. Hope there won’t be too much in the papers. I don’t want mynervous patients upset.”

Superintendent Battle looked round at Poirot.

“Excuse me, M. Poirot. If you’d like to ask any questions, I’m sure the doctor wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course not. Of course not. Great admirer of yours, M. Poirot. Little grey cells—order andmethod. I know all about it. I feel sure you’ll think of something most intriguing²⁷ to ask me.”

Hercule Poirot spread out his hands in his most foreign manner.

“No, no. I just like to get all the details clear in my mind. For instance, how many rubbers didyou play?”

“Three,” said Roberts promptly²⁸. “We’d got to one game all, in the fourth rubber, when youcame in.”

“And who played with who?”

“First rubber, Despard and I against the ladies. They beat us, God bless ’em. Walk over; wenever held a card.

“Second rubber, Miss Meredith and I against Despard and Mrs. Lorrimer. Third rubber, Mrs.

Lorrimer and I against Miss Meredith and Despard. We cut each time, but it worked out like apivot. Fourth rubber, Miss Meredith and I again.”

“Who won and who lost?”

“Mrs. Lorrimer won every rubber. Miss Meredith won the first and lost the next two. I was a bitup and Miss Meredith and Despard must have been down.”

Poirot said, smiling, “The good superintendent has asked you your opinion of your companionsas candidates for murder. I now ask you for your opinion of them as bridge players.”

“Mrs. Lorrimer’s first class,” Dr. Roberts replied promptly. “I’ll bet she makes a good income ayear out of bridge. Despard’s a good player, too—what I call a sound player—longheaded chap.

Miss Meredith you might describe as quite a safe player. She doesn’t make mistakes, but she isn’tbrilliant.”

“And you yourself, doctor?”

Roberts’ eyes twinkled.

“I overcall my hand a bit, or so they say. But I’ve always found it pays.”

Poirot smiled.

Dr. Roberts rose.

“Anything more?”

Poirot shook his head.

“Well, goodnight, then. Goodnight, Mrs. Oliver. You ought to get some copy out of this. Betterthan your untraceable poisons, eh?”

Dr. Roberts left the room, his bearing springy once more. Mrs. Oliver said bitterly as the doorclosed behind him:

“Copy! Copy indeed! People are so unintelligent. I could invent a better murder any day thananything real. I’m never at a loss for a plot. And the people who read my books like untraceablepoisons!”

 

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