Thirty-one

CARDS ON THE TABLE

It was Poirot’s moment, every face was turned to his in eager anticipation¹.

“You are very kind,” he said, smiling. “You know, I think, that I enjoy my little lecture. I am aprosy old fellow.

“This case, to my mind, has been one of the most interesting cases I have ever come across.

There was nothing, you see, to go upon. There were four people, one of whom must havecommitted the crime but which of the four? Was there anything to tell one? In the material sense—no. There were no tangible² clues—no fingerprints—no incriminating papers or documents.

There were only—the people themselves.

“And one tangible clue—the bridge scores.

“You may remember that from the beginning I showed a particular interest in those scores.

They told me something about the various people who had kept them and they did more. Theygave me one valuable hint. I noticed at once, in the third rubber, the figure of 1500 above the line.

That figure could only represent one thing—a call of grand slam. Now if a person were to make uptheir minds to commit a crime under these somewhat unusual circumstances (that is, during arubber game of bridge) that person was clearly running two serious risks. The first was that thevictim might cry out and the second was that even if the victim did not cry out someone of theother three might chance to look up at the psychological moment and actually witness the deed.

“Now as to the first risk, nothing could be done about it. It was a matter of gambler’s luck. Butsomething could be done about the second. It stands to reason that during an interesting or anexciting hand the attention of the three players would be wholly on the game, whereas during adull hand they were more likely to be looking about them. Now a bid of grand slam is alwaysexciting. It is very often (as in this case it was) doubled. Every one of the three players is playingwith close attention—the declarer to get his contract, the adversaries³ to discard correctly and to gethim down. It was, then, a distinct possibility that the murder was committed during this particularhand and I determined⁴ to find out, if I could, exactly how the bidding had gone. I soon discoveredthat dummy⁵ during this particular hand had been Dr. Roberts. I bore that in mind and approachedthe matter from my second angle—psychological probability. Of the four suspects Mrs. Lorrimerstruck me as by far the most likely to plan and carry out a successful murder—but I could not seeher as committing any crime that had to be improvised⁶ on the spur of the moment. On the otherhand her manner that first evening puzzled me. It suggested either that she had committed themurder herself or that she knew who had committed it. Miss Meredith, Major Despard and Dr.

Roberts were all psychological possibilities, though, as I have already mentioned, each of themwould have committed the crime from an entirely⁷ different angle.

“I next made a second test. I got everyone in turn to tell me just what they remembered of theroom. From that I got some very valuable information. First of all, by far the most likely person tohave noticed the dagger⁸ was Dr. Roberts. He was a natural observer of trifles of all kinds—what iscalled an observant man. Of the bridge hands, however, he remembered practically nothing at all. Idid not expect him to remember much, but his complete forgetfulness looked as though he had hadsomething else on his mind all the evening. Again, you see, Dr. Roberts was indicated.

“Mrs. Lorrimer I found to have a marvellous card memory, and I could well imagine that withanyone of her powers of concentration a murder could easily be committed close at hand and shewould never notice anything. She gave me a valuable piece of information. The grand slam wasbid by Dr. Roberts (quite unjustifiably) — and he bid it in her suit, not his own, so that shenecessarily played the hand.

“The third test, the test on which Superintendent⁹ Battle and I built a good deal, was thediscovery of the earlier murders so as to establish a similarity of method. Well, the credit for thosediscoveries belongs to Superintendent Battle, to Mrs. Oliver and to Colonel Race. Discussing thematter with my friend Battle, he confessed himself disappointed because there were no points ofsimilarity between any of the three earlier crimes and that of the murder of Mr. Shaitana. Butactually that was not true. The two murders attributed to Dr. Roberts, when examined closely, andfrom the psychological point of view and not the material one, proved to be almost exactly thesame. They, too, had been what I might describe as public murders. A shaving brush boldlyinfected in the victim’s own dressing¹⁰ room while the doctor officially washes his hands after avisit. The murder of Mrs. Craddock under cover of a typhoid inoculation¹¹. Again done quite openly—in the sight of the world, as you might say. And the reaction of the man is the same. Pushed intoa corner, he seizes a chance and acts at once—sheer bold audacious bluff¹²—exactly like his play atbridge. As at bridge, so in the murder of Shaitana, he took a long chance and played his cards well.

The blow was perfectly¹³ struck and at exactly the right moment.

“Now just at the moment that I had decided¹⁴ quite definitely that Dr. Roberts was the man, Mrs.

Lorrimer asked me to come and see her—and quite convincingly accused herself of the crime! Inearly believed her! For a minute or two I did believe her—and then my little grey cells reassertedtheir mastery. It could not be—so it was not!

“But what she told me was more difficult still.

“She assured me that she had actually seen Anne Meredith commit the crime.

“It was not till the following morning—when I stood by a dead woman’s bed—that I saw how Icould still be right and Mrs. Lorrimer still have spoken the truth.

“Anne Meredith went over to the fireplace—and saw that Mr. Shaitana was dead! She stoopedover him—perhaps stretched out her hand to the gleaming head of the jewelled pin.

“Her lips part to call out, but she does not call out. She remembers Shaitana’s talk at dinner.

Perhaps he had left some record. She, Anne Meredith, has a motive¹⁵ for desiring his death.

Everyone will say that she has killed him. She dare not call out. Trembling with fear andapprehension she goes back to her seat.

“So Mrs. Lorrimer is right, since she, as she thought, saw the crime committed—but I am righttoo, for actually she did not see it.

“If Roberts had held his hand at this point, I doubt if we could have ever brought his crimeshome to him. We might have done so—by a mixture of bluff and various ingenious devices. Iwould at any rate have tried.

“But he lost his nerve and once again overbid his hand. And this time the cards lay wrong forhim and he came down heavily.

“No doubt he was uneasy. He knew that Battle was nosing about. He foresaw the presentsituation going on indefinitely, the police still searching—and perhaps, by some miracle—comingon traces of his former crimes. He hit upon the brilliant idea of making Mrs. Lorrimer thescapegoat for the party. His practised eye guessed, no doubt, that she was ill, and that her lifecould not be very much prolonged. How natural in those circumstances for her to choose a quickway out, and before taking it, confess to the crime! So he manages to get a sample of herhandwriting—forges three identical letters and arrives at the house hotfoot in the morning with hisstory of the letter he has just received. His parlourmaid quite correctly is instructed to ring up thepolice. All he needs is a start. And he gets it. By the time the police surgeon arrives it is all over.

Dr. Roberts is ready with his story of artificial respiration¹⁶ that has failed. It is all perfectlyplausible—perfectly straightforward¹⁷.

“In all this he has no idea of throwing suspicion on Anne Meredith. He does not even know ofher visit the night before. It is suicide and security only that he is aiming at.

“It is in fact an awkward moment for him when I ask if he is acquainted with Mrs. Lorrimer’shandwriting. If the forgery¹⁸ has been detected he must save himself by saying that he has neverseen her handwriting. His mind works quickly, but not quickly enough.

“From Wallingford I telephone to Mrs. Oliver. She plays her part by lulling¹⁹ his suspicions andbringing him here. And then when he is congratulating himself that all is well, though not exactlythe way he has planned, the blow falls. Hercule Poirot springs! And so—the gambler will gather inno more tricks. He has thrown his cards upon the table. C’est fini.”

There was silence. Rhoda broke it with a sigh.

“What amazing luck that window cleaner happened to be there,” she said.

“Luck? Luck? That was not luck, mademoiselle. That was the grey cells of Hercule Poirot. Andthat reminds me—”

He went to the door.

“Come in—come in, my dear fellow. You acted your part à merveille.”

He returned accompanied by the window cleaner, who now held his red hair in his hand andwho looked somehow a very different person.

“My friend Mr. Gerald Hemmingway, a very promising²⁰ young actor.”

“Then there was no window cleaner?” cried Rhoda. “Nobody saw him?”

“I saw,” said Poirot. “With the eyes of the mind one can see more than with the eyes of thebody. One leans back and closes the eyes—”

Despard said cheerfully:

“Let’s stab him, Rhoda, and see if his ghost can come back and find out who did it.”

 

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