SEVENTEEN, EIGHTEEN, MAIDS IN WAITING

IOn the following day Hercule Poirot spent some hours with a theatrical¹ agent of his acquaintance.

In the afternoon he went to Oxford². On the day after that he drove down to the country—it waslate when he returned.

He had telephoned before he left to make an appointment with Mr. Alistair Blunt for that sameevening.

It was half past nine when he reached the Gothic House.

Alistair Blunt was alone in his library when Poirot was shown in.

He looked an eager question at his visitor as he shook hands.

He said:

“Well?”

Slowly, Hercule Poirot nodded his head.

Blunt looked at him in almost incredulous appreciation⁴.

“Have you found her?”

“Yes. Yes, I have found her.”

He sat down. And he sighed.

Alistair Blunt said:

“You are tired?”

“Yes. I am tired. And it is not pretty—what I have to tell you.”

Blunt said:

“Is she dead?”

“That depends,” said Hercule Poirot slowly, “on how you like to look at it.”

Blunt frowned.

He said:

“My dear man, a person must be dead or alive. Miss Sainsbury Seale must be one or the other!”

“Ah, but who is Miss Sainsbury Seale?”

Alistair Blunt said:

“You don’t mean that—that there isn’t any such person?”

“Oh no, no. There was such a person. She lived in Calcutta. She taught elocution. She busiedherself with good works. She came to England in the Maharanah—the same boat in which Mr.

Amberiotis travelled. Although they were not in the same class, he helped her over something—some fuss about her luggage. He was, it would seem, a kindly⁵ man in little ways. And sometimes,M. Blunt, kindness is repaid in an unexpected fashion. It was so, you know, with M. Amberiotis.

He chanced to meet the lady again in the streets of London. He was feeling expansive, he good-naturedly invited her to lunch with him at the Savoy. An unexpected treat for her. And anunexpected windfall for M. Amberiotis! For his kindness was not premeditated—he had no ideathat this faded, middle-aged⁶ lady was going to present him with the equivalent of a gold mine. Butnevertheless, that is what she did, though she never suspected the fact herself.

“She was never, you see, of the first order of intelligence. A good, well-meaning soul, but thebrain, I should say, of a hen.”

Blunt said:

“Then it wasn’t she who killed the Chapman woman?”

Poirot said slowly:

“It is difficult to know just how to present the matter. I shall begin, I think, where the matterbegan for me. With a shoe!”

Blunt said blankly:

“With a shoe?”

Hercule Poirot nodded.

“Yes, a buckled⁷ shoe. I came out from my séance at the dentist’s and as I stood on the steps of58, Queen Charlotte Street, a taxi stopped outside, the door opened and a woman’s foot preparedto descend⁹. I am a man who notices a woman’s foot and ankle. It was a well-shaped foot, with agood ankle and an expensive stocking, but I did not like the shoe. It was a new, shining patentleather shoe with a large ornate buckle⁸. Not chic¹⁰—not at all chic!

“And whilst I was observing this, the rest of the lady came into sight—and frankly¹¹ it was adisappointment—a middle-aged lady without charm and badly dressed.”

“Miss Sainsbury Seale?”

“Precisely. As she descended¹² a contretemps occurred—she caught the buckle of her shoe in thedoor and it was wrenched¹³ off. I picked it up and returned it to her. That was all. The incident wasclosed.

“Later, on that same day, I went with Chief Inspector¹⁴ Japp to interview the lady. (She had not asyet sewn on the buckle, by the way.)

“On that same evening, Miss Sainsbury Seale walked out of her hotel and vanished. That, shallwe say, is the end of Part One.

“Part Two began when Chief Inspector Japp summoned me to King Leopold Mansions¹⁵. Therewas a fur chest in a flat there, and in that fur chest there had been found a body. I went into theroom, I walked up to the chest—and the first thing I saw was a shabby buckled shoe!”

“Well?”

“You have not appreciated the point. It was a shabby shoe—a well-worn shoe. But you see,Miss Sainsbury Seale had come to King Leopold Mansions on the evening of that same day—theday of Mr. Morley’s murder. In the morning the shoes were new shoes—in the evening they wereold shoes. One does not wear out a pair of shoes in a day, you comprehend.”

Alistair Blunt said without much interest:

“She could have two pairs of shoes, I suppose?”

“Ah, but that was not so. For Japp and I had gone up to her room at the Glengowrie Court andhad looked at all her possessions—and there was no pair of buckled shoes there. She might havehad an old pair of shoes, yes. She might have changed into them after a tiring day to go out in theevening, yes? But if so, the other pair would have been at the hotel. It was curious, you willadmit?”

“I can’t see that it is important.”

“No, not important. Not at all important. But one does not like things that one cannot explain. Istood by the fur chest and I looked at the shoe—the buckle had recently been sewn on by hand. Iwill confess that I then had a moment of doubt—of myself. Yes, I said to myself, Hercule Poirot,you were a little light-headed perhaps this morning. You saw the world through rosy¹⁷ spectacles.

Even the old shoes looked like new ones to you?”

“Perhaps that was the explanation?”

“But no, it was not. My eyes do not deceive me! To continue, I studied the dead body of thiswoman and I did not like what I saw. Why had the face been wantonly, deliberately¹⁸ smashed andrendered unrecognizable?”

Alistair Blunt moved restlessly. He said:

“Must we go over that again? We know—”

Hercule Poirot said firmly:

“It is necessary. I have to take you over the steps that led me at last to the truth. I said to myself:

‘Something is wrong here. Here is a dead woman in the clothes of Miss Sainsbury Seale (except,perhaps, the shoes?) and with the handbag of Miss Sainsbury Seale — but why is her faceunrecognizable? Is it, perhaps, because the face is not the face of Miss Sainsbury Seale?’ Andimmediately I begin to put together what I have heard of the appearance of the other woman—thewoman to whom the flat belongs, and I ask myself—Might it not perhaps be this other womanwho lies dead here? I go then and look at the other woman’s bedroom. I try to picture to myselfwhat sort of woman she is. In superficial appearance, very different to the other. Smart, showilydressed, very much made up. But in essentials, not unlike. Hair, build, age … But there is onedifference. Mrs. Albert Chapman took a five in shoes. Miss Sainsbury Seale, I knew, took a 10-inch stocking—that is to say she would take at least a 6 in shoes. Mrs. Chapman, then, had smallerfeet than Miss Sainsbury Seale. I went back to the body. If my half-formed idea was right, and thebody was that of Mrs. Chapman wearing Miss Sainsbury Seale’s clothes, then the shoes should betoo big. I took hold of one. But it was not loose. It fitted tightly. That looked as though it were thebody of Miss Sainsbury Seale after all! But in that case, why was the face disfigured? Her identitywas already proved by the handbag, which could easily have been removed, but which had notbeen removed.

“It was a puzzle—a tangle¹⁹. In desperation I seized on Mrs. Chapman’s address book—a dentistwas the only person who could prove definitely who the dead woman was—or was not. Bycoincidence, Mrs. Chapman’s dentist was Mr. Morley. Morley was dead, but identification wasstill possible. You know the result. The body was identified in the Coroner’s Court by Mr.

Morley’s successor as that of Mrs. Albert Chapman.”

Blunt was fidgeting with some impatience²⁰, but Poirot took no notice. He went on:

“I was left now with a psychological problem. What sort of a woman was Mabelle SainsburySeale? There were two answers to that question. The first was the obvious one borne out by herwhole life in India and by the testimony²¹ of her personal friends. That depicted²² her as an earnest,conscientious, slightly stupid woman. Was there another Miss Sainsbury Seale? Apparently²³ therewas. There was a woman who had lunched with a well-known foreign agent, who had accostedyou in the street and claimed to be a close friend of your wife’s (a statement that was almostcertainly untrue), a woman who had left a man’s house very shortly before a murder had beencommitted, a woman who had visited another woman on the evening when in all probability thatother woman had been murdered, and who had since disappeared although she must be aware thatthe police force of England was looking for her. Were all these actions compatible with thecharacter which her friends gave her? It would seem that they were not. Therefore, if MissSainsbury Seale were not the good, amiable²⁴ creature she seemed, then it would appear that shewas quite possibly a cold-blooded murderess or almost certainly an accomplice²⁵ after the fact.

“I had one more criterion—my own personal impression. I had talked to Mabelle SainsburySeale myself. How had she struck me? And that, M. Blunt, was the most difficult question toanswer of all. Everything that she said, her way of talking, her manner, her gestures, all wereperfectly in accord with her given character. But they were equally in accord with a clever actressplaying a part. And, after all, Mabelle Sainsbury Seale had started life as an actress.

“I had been much impressed by a conversation I had had with Mr. Barnes of Ealing who hadalso been a patient at 58, Queen Charlotte Street on that particular day. His theory, expressed veryforcibly, was that the deaths of Morley and of Amberiotis were only incidental, so to speak—thatthe intended victim was you.”

Alistair Blunt said:

“Oh, come now—that’s a bit far-fetched.”

“Is it, M. Blunt? Is it not true that at this moment there are various groups of people to whom itis vital that you should be—removed, shall we say? Shall be no longer capable of exerting yourinfluence?”

Blunt said:

“Oh yes, that’s true enough. But why mix up this business of Morley’s death with that?”

Poirot said:

“Because there is a certain—how shall I put it?—lavishness about the case—Expense is noobject—human life is no object. Yes, there is a recklessness, a lavishness—that points to a bigcrime!”

“You don’t think Morley shot himself because of a mistake?”

“I never thought so—not for a minute. No, Morley was murdered, Amberiotis was murdered, anunrecognizable woman was murdered — Why? For some big stake. Barnes’ theory was thatsomebody had tried to bribe²⁷ Morley or his partner to put you out of the way.”

Alistair Blunt said sharply:

“Nonsense!”

“Ah, but is it nonsense? Say one wishes to put someone out of the way. Yes, but that someone isforewarned, forearmed, difficult of access. To kill that person it is necessary to be able to approachhim without awakening²⁸ his suspicions—and where would a man be less suspicious than in adentist’s chair?”

“Well, that’s true, I suppose. I never thought of it like that.”

“It is true. And once I realized it I had my first vague glimmering²⁹ of the truth.”

“So you accepted Barnes’ theory? Who is Barnes, by the way?”

“Barnes was Reilly’s twelve o’clock patient. He is retired³⁰ from the Home Office and lives inEaling. An insignificant³¹ little man. But you are wrong when you say I accepted his theory. I didnot. I only accepted the principle of it.”

“What do you mean?”

Hercule Poirot said:

“All along, all the way through, I have been led astray—sometimes unwittingly, sometimesdeliberately and for a purpose. All along it was presented to me, forced upon me, that this waswhat you might call a public crime. That is to say, that you, M. Blunt, were the focus of it all, inyour public character. You, the banker, you the controller of finance, you, the upholder ofconservative tradition!

“But every public character has a private life also. That was my mistake, I forgot the privatelife. There existed private reasons for killing³² Morley—Frank Carter’s for instance.

“There could also exist private reasons for killing you … You had relations who would inheritmoney when you died. You had people who loved and hated you—as a man—not as a publicfigure.

“And so I came to the supreme³³ instance of what I call ‘the forced card.’ The purported³⁴ attackupon you by Frank Carter. If that attack was genuine—then it was a political crime. But was thereany other explanation? There could be. There was a second man in the shrubbery. The man whorushed up and seized Carter. A man who could easily have fired that shot and then tossed the pistolto Carter’s feet so that the latter would almost inevitably³⁵ pick it up and be found with it in hishand….

“I considered the problem of Howard Raikes. Raikes had been at Queen Charlotte Street thatmorning of Morley’s death. Raikes was a bitter enemy of all that you stood for and were. Yes, butRaikes was something more. Raikes was the man who might marry your niece, and with you dead,your niece would inherit a very handsome income, even though you had prudently³⁶ arranged thatshe could not touch the principal.

“Was the whole thing, after all, a private crime — a crime for private gain, for privatesatisfaction? Why had I thought it a public crime? Because, not once, but many times, that ideahad been suggested to me, had been forced upon me like a forced card. …“It was then, when that idea occurred to me, that I had my first glimmering of the truth. I was inchurch at the time and singing a verse of a psalm³⁷. It spoke³⁸ of a snare³⁹ laid with cords….

“A snare? Laid for me? Yes, it could be … But in that case who had laid it? There was only oneperson who could have laid it … And that did not make sense—or did it? Had I been looking atthe case upside down? Money no object? Exactly! Reckless disregard of human life? Yes again.

For the stakes for which the guilty person was playing were enormous. …“But if this new, strange idea of mine were right, it must explain everything. It must explain, forinstance, the mystery of the dual⁴⁰ nature of Miss Sainsbury Seale. It must solve the riddle⁴¹ of thebuckled shoe. And it must answer the question: Where is Miss Sainsbury Seale now?

“Eh bien—it did all that and more. It showed me that Miss Sainsbury Seale was the beginningand middle and end of the case. No wonder it had seemed to me that there were two MabelleSainsbury Seales. There were two Mabelle Sainsbury Seales. There was the good, stupid, amiablewoman who was vouched⁴² for so confidently by her friends. And there was the other—the womanwho was mixed-up with two murders and who told lies and who vanished mysteriously.

“Remember, the porter at King Leopold Mansions said that Miss Sainsbury Seale had beenthere once before….

“In my reconstruction⁴³ of the case, that first time was the only time. She never left King LeopoldMansions. The other Miss Sainsbury Seale took her place. That other Mabelle Sainsbury Seale,dressed in clothes of the same type and wearing a new pair of shoes with buckles⁴⁴ because theothers were too large for her, went to the Russell Square Hotel at a busy time of day, packed upthe dead woman’s clothes, paid the bill and left. She went to the Glengowrie Court Hotel. None ofthe real Miss Sainsbury Seale’s friends saw her after that time, remember. She played the part ofMabelle Sainsbury Seale there for over a week. She wore Mabelle Sainsbury Seale’s clothes, shetalked in Mabelle Sainsbury Seale’s voice, but she had to buy a smaller pair of evening shoes, too.

And then—she vanished, her last appearance being when she was seen reentering King LeopoldMansions on the evening of the day Morley was killed.”

“Are you trying to say,” demanded Alistair Blunt, “that it was Mabelle Sainsbury Seale’s deadbody in that flat, after all.”

“Of course it was! It was a very clever double bluff—the smashed face was meant to raise aquestion of the woman’s identity!”

“But the dental evidence?”

“Ah! Now we come to it. It was not the dentist himself who gave evidence. Morley was dead.

He couldn’t give evidence as to his own work. He would have known who the dead woman was. Itwas the charts that were put in as evidence—and the charts were faked. Both women were hispatients, remember. All that had to be done was to relabel the charts, exchanging the names.”

Hercule Poirot added:

“And now you see what I meant when you asked me if the woman was dead and I replied, ‘Thatdepends.’ For when you say ‘Miss Sainsbury Seale’—which woman do you mean? The womanwho disappeared from the Glengowrie Court Hotel or the real Mabelle Sainsbury Seale.”

Alistair Blunt said:

“I know, M. Poirot, that you have a great reputation. Therefore I accept that you must havesome grounds for this extraordinary assumption—for it is an assumption, nothing more. But all Ican see is the fantastic improbability of the whole thing. You are saying, are you not, that MabelleSainsbury Seale was deliberately murdered and that Morley was also murdered to prevent hisidentifying her dead body. But why? That’s what I want to know. Here’s this woman—a perfectlyharmless, middle-aged woman—with plenty of friends and apparently no enemies. Why on earthall this elaborate plot to get rid of her?”

“Why? Yes, that is the question. Why? As you say, Mabelle Sainsbury Seale was a perfectlyharmless creature who wouldn’t hurt a fly! Why, then, was she deliberately and brutallymurdered? Well, I will tell you what I think.”

“Yes?”

Hercule Poirot leaned forward. He said:

“It is my belief that Mabelle Sainsbury Seale was murdered because she happened to have toogood a memory for faces.”

“What do you mean?”

Hercule Poirot said:

“We have separated the dual personality. There is the harmless lady from India. But there is oneincident that falls between the two roles. Which Miss Sainsbury Seale was it who spoke to you onthe doorstep of Mr. Morley’s house? She claimed, you will remember, to be ‘a great friend of yourwife’s.’ Now that claim was adjudged by her friends and by the light of ordinary probability to beuntrue. So we can say: ‘That was a lie. The real Miss Sainsbury Seale does not tell lies.’ So it wasa lie uttered by the impostor for a purpose of her own.”

Alistair Blunt nodded.

“Yes, that reasoning is quite clear. Though I still don’t know what the purpose was.”

Poirot said:

“Ah, pardon—but let us first look at it the other way round. It was the real Miss SainsburySeale. She does not tell lies. So the story must be true.”

“I suppose you can look at it that way—but it seems very unlikely—”

“Of course it is unlikely! But taking that second hypothesis as fact—the story is true. ThereforeMiss Sainsbury Seale did know your wife. She knew her well. Therefore—your wife must havebeen the type of person Miss Sainsbury Seale would have known well. Someone in her own stationof life. An Anglo-Indian—a missionary—or, to go back farther still—an actress—Therefore—notRebecca Arnholt!

“Now, M. Blunt, do you see what I meant when I talked of a private and a public life? You arethe great banker. But you are also a man who married a rich wife. And before you married her youwere only a junior partner in the firm—not very long down from Oxford.

“You comprehend—I began to look at the case the right way up. Expense no object? Naturallynot—to you. Reckless of human life—that, too, since for a long time you have been virtually adictator and to a dictator his own life becomes unduly⁴⁵ important and those of others unimportant.”

Alistair Blunt said:

“What are you suggesting, M. Poirot?”

Poirot said quietly:

“I am suggesting, M. Blunt, that when you married Rebecca Arnholt, you were married already.

That, dazzled by the vista⁴⁶, not so much of wealth, as of power, you suppressed that fact anddeliberately committed bigamy. That your real wife acquiesced⁴⁷ in the situation.”

“And who was this real wife?”

“Mrs. Albert Chapman was the name she went under at King Leopold Mansions—a handy spot,not five minutes’ walk from your house on the Chelsea Embankment. You borrowed the name of areal secret agent, realizing that it would give support to her hints of a husband engaged inintelligence work. Your scheme succeeded perfectly²⁶. No suspicion was ever aroused.

Nevertheless, the fact remained, you had never been legally married to Rebecca Arnholt and youwere guilty of bigamy. You never dreamt of danger after so many years. It came out of the blue—in the form of a tiresome⁴⁸ woman who remembered you after nearly twenty years, as her friend’shusband. Chance brought her back to this country, chance let her meet you in Queen CharlotteStreet—it was chance that your niece was with you and heard what she said to you. Otherwise Imight never have guessed.”

“I told you about that myself, my dear Poirot.”

“No, it was your niece who insisted on telling me and you could not very well protest tooviolently in case it might arouse suspicions. And after that meeting, one more evil chance (fromyour point of view) occurred. Mabelle Sainsbury Seale met Amberiotis, went to lunch with himand babbled⁴⁹ to him of this meeting with a friend’s husband—‘after all these years!’—‘Lookedolder, of course, but had hardly changed!’ That, I admit, is pure guesswork on my part but Ibelieve it is what happened. I do not think that Mabelle Sainsbury Seale realized for a moment thatthe Mr. Blunt her friend had married was the shadowy figure behind the finance of the world. Thename, after all, is not an uncommon⁵⁰ one. But Amberiotis, remember, in addition to his espionageactivities, was a blackmailer⁵¹. Blackmailers have an uncanny nose for a secret. Amberiotiswondered. Easy to find out just who the Mr. Blunt was. And then, I have no doubt, he wrote to youor telephoned … Oh, yes—a gold mine for Amberiotis.”

Poirot paused. He went on:

“There is only one effectual method of dealing⁵² with a really efficient and experiencedblackmailer. Silence him.

“It was not a case, as I had had erroneously suggested to me, of ‘Blunt must go.’ It was, on thecontrary, ‘Amberiotis must go.’ But the answer was the same! The easiest way to get at a man iswhen he is off his guard, and when is a man more off his guard than in the dentist’s chair?”

Poirot paused again. A faint smile came to his lips. He said:

“The truth about the case was mentioned very early. The page boy, Alfred, was reading a crimestory called Death at Eleven Forty-Five. We should have taken that as an omen¹⁶. For, of course,that is just about the time when Morley was killed. You shot him just as you were leaving. Thenyou pressed his buzzer⁵³, turned on the taps of the wash basin and left the room. You timed it so thatyou came down the stairs just as Alfred was taking the false Mabelle Sainsbury Seale to the lift.

You actually opened the front door, perhaps you passed out, but as the lift doors shut and the liftwent up you slipped inside again and went up the stairs.

“I know, from my own visits, just what Alfred did when he took up a patient. He knocked onthe door, opened it, and stood back to let the patient pass in. Inside the water was running—inference, Morley was washing his hands as usual. But Alfred couldn’t actually see him.

“As soon as Alfred had gone down again in the lift, you slipped along into the surgery. Togetheryou and your accomplice lifted the body and carried it into the adjoining office. Then a quick huntthrough the files, and the charts of Mrs. Chapman and Miss Sainsbury Seale were cleverlyfalsified. You put on a white linen⁵⁴ coat, perhaps your wife applied⁵⁵ a trace of makeup⁵⁶. But nothingmuch was needed. It was Amberiotis’ first visit to Morley. He had never met you. And yourphotograph seldom appears in the papers. Besides, why should he have suspicions? A blackmailerdoes not fear his dentist. Miss Sainsbury Seale goes down and Alfred shows her out. The buzzergoes and Amberiotis is taken up. He finds the dentist washing his hands behind the door inapproved fashion. He is conducted to the chair. He indicates the painful tooth. You talk theaccustomed patter. You explain it will be best to freeze the gum. The procaine and adrenalin arethere. You inject a big enough dose to kill. And incidentally he will not feel any lack of skill inyour dentistry!

“Completely unsuspicious, Amberiotis leaves. You bring out Morley’s body and arrange it onthe floor, dragging it slightly on the carpet now that you have to manage it single-handed. Youwipe the pistol and put it in his hand—wipe the door handle so that your prints shall not be thelast. The instruments you used have all been passed into the sterilizer⁵⁷. You leave the room, godown the stairs and slip out of the front door at a suitable moment. That is your only moment ofdanger.

“It should all have passed off so well! Two people who threatened your safety—both dead. Athird person also dead—but that, from your point of view, was unavoidable. And all so easilyexplained. Morley’s suicide explained by the mistake he had made over Amberiotis. The twodeaths cancel out. One of these regrettable accidents.

“But alas⁵⁸ for you, I am on the scene. I have doubts. I make objections. All is not going as easilyas you hoped. So there must be a second line of defences. There must be, if necessary, ascapegoat. You have already informed yourself minutely, of Morley’s household. There is thisman, Frank Carter, he will do. So your accomplice arranges that he shall be engaged in amysterious fashion as gardener. If, later, he tells such a ridiculous story no one will believe it. Indue course, the body in the fur chest will come to light. At first it will be thought to be that of MissSainsbury Seale, then the dental evidence will be taken. Big sensation! It may seem a needlesscomplication, but it was necessary. You do not want the police force of England to be looking fora missing Mrs. Albert Chapman. No, let Mrs. Chapman be dead—and let it be Mabelle SainsburySeale for whom the police look. Since they can never find her. Besides, through your influence,you can arrange to have the case dropped.

“You did do that, but since it was necessary that you should know just what I was doing, yousent for me and urged me to find the missing woman for you. And you continued, steadily⁵⁹, to‘force a card’ upon me. Your accomplice rang me up with a melodramatic warning—the sameidea—espionage—the public aspect. She is a clever actress, this wife of yours, but to disguiseone’s voice the natural tendency is to imitate another voice. Your wife imitated the intonation⁶⁰ ofMrs. Olivera. That puzzled me, I may say, a good deal.

“Then I was taken down to Exsham—the final performance was staged. How easy to arrange aloaded pistol amongst laurels⁶¹ so that a man, clipping them, shall unwittingly cause it to go off. Thepistol falls at his feet. Startled, he picks it up. What more do you want? He is caught red-handed—with a ridiculous story and with a pistol which is a twin to the one with which Morley was shot.

“And all a snare for the feet of Hercule Poirot.”

Alistair Blunt stirred a little in his chair. His face was grave and a little sad. He said:

“Don’t misunderstand me, M. Poirot. How much do you guess? And how much do you actuallyknow?”

Poirot said:

“I have a certificate of the marriage—at a registry office near Oxford—of Martin Alistair Bluntand Gerda Grant. Frank Carter saw two men leave Morley’s surgery just after twenty-five pasttwelve. The first was a fat man—Amberiotis. The second was, of course, you. Frank Carter did notrecognize you. He only saw you from above.”

“How fair of you to mention that!”

“He went into the surgery and found Morley’s body. The hands were cold and there was driedblood round the wound. That meant that Morley had been dead some time. Therefore the dentistwho attended to Amberiotis could not have been Morley and must have been Morley’s murderer.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes. Helen Montressor was arrested this afternoon.”

Alistair Blunt gave one sharp movement. Then he sat very still. He said:

“That—rather tears it.”

Hercule Poirot said:

“Yes. The real Helen Montressor, your distant cousin, died in Canada seven years ago. Yousuppressed that fact, and took advantage of it.”

A smile came to Alistair Blunt’s lips. He spoke naturally and with a kind of boyish enjoyment⁶².

“Gerda got a kick out of it all, you know. I’d like to make you understand. You’re such a cleverfellow. I married her without letting my people know. She was acting⁶³ in repertory at the time. Mypeople were the straitlaced kind, and I was going into the firm. We agreed to keep it dark. Shewent on acting. Mabelle Sainsbury Seale was in the company too. She knew about us. Then shewent abroad with a touring company. Gerda heard of her once or twice from India. Then shestopped writing. Mabelle got mixed up with some Hindu. She was always a stupid, credulous³ girl.

“I wish I could make you understand about my meeting with Rebecca and my marriage. Gerdaunderstood. The only way I can put it is that it was like Royalty⁶⁴. I had the chance of marrying aQueen and playing the part of Prince Consort⁶⁵ or even King. I looked on my marriage to Gerda asmorganatic. I loved her. I didn’t want to get rid of her. And the whole thing worked splendidly. Iliked Rebecca immensely. She was a woman with a first-class financial brain and mine was just asgood. We were good at team work. It was supremely⁶⁶ exciting. She was an excellent companionand I think I made her happy. I was genuinely sorry when she died. The queer thing was thatGerda and I grew to enjoy the secret thrill of our meetings. We had all sorts of ingenious devices.

She was an actress by nature. She had a repertoire⁶⁷ of seven or eight characters—Mrs. AlbertChapman was only one of them. She was an American widow in Paris. I met her there when Iwent over on business. And she used to go to Norway with painting things as an artist. I went therefor the fishing. And then, later, I passed her off as my cousin. Helen Montressor. It was great funfor us both, and it kept romance alive, I suppose. We could have married officially after Rebeccadied—but we didn’t want to. Gerda would have found it hard to live my official life and, of course,something from the past might have been raked up, but I think the real reason we went on more orless the same was that we enjoyed the secrecy⁶⁸ of it. We should have found open domesticity dull.”

Blunt paused. He said, and his voice changed and hardened:

“And then that damned fool of a woman messed up everything. Recognizing me—after all thoseyears! And she told Amberiotis. You see—you must see—that something had to be done! It wasn’tonly myself—not only the selfish point of view. If I was ruined and disgraced—the country, mycountry was hit as well. For I’ve done something for England, M. Poirot. I’ve held it firm and keptit solvent⁶⁹. It’s free from Dictators—from Fascism and from Communism. I don’t really care formoney as money. I do like power — I like to rule — but I don’t want to tyrannize. We aredemocratic in England—truly democratic. We can grumble⁷⁰ and say what we think and laugh atour politicians. We’re free. I care for all that—it’s been my lifework. But if I went—well, youknow what would probably happen. I’m needed, M. Poirot. And a damned double- crossing,blackmailing rogue⁷¹ of a Greek was going to destroy my life work. Something had to be done.

Gerda saw it, too. We were sorry about the Sainsbury Seale woman—but it was no good. We’dgot to silence her. She couldn’t be trusted to hold her tongue. Gerda went to see her, asked her totea, told her to ask for Mrs. Chapman, said she was staying in Mr. Chapman’s flat. MabelleSainsbury Seale came, quite unsuspecting. She never knew anything—the medinal was in the tea—it’s quite painless. You just sleep and don’t wake up. The face business was done afterwards—rather sickening, but we felt it was necessary. Mrs. Chapman was to exit for good. I had given my‘cousin’ Helen a cottage to live in. We decided⁷² that after a while we would get married. But firstwe had to get Amberiotis out of the way. It worked beautifully. He hadn’t a suspicion that I wasn’ta real dentist. I did my stuff with the hand pricks⁷³ rather well. I didn’t risk the drill. Of course, afterthe injection he couldn’t feel what I was doing. Probably just as well!”

Poirot asked:

“The pistols?”

“Actually they belonged to a secretary I once had in America. He bought them abroadsomewhere. When he left he forgot to take them.”

There was a pause. Then Alistair Blunt asked:

“Is there anything else you want to know?”

Hercule Poirot said:

“What about Morley?”

Alistair Blunt said simply:

“I was sorry about Morley.”

Hercule Poirot said:

“Yes, I see….”

There was a long pause, then Blunt said:

“Well, M. Poirot, what about it?”

Poirot said:

“Helen Montressor is arrested already.”

“And now it’s my turn?”

“That was my meaning, yes.”

Blunt said gently:

“But you are not happy about it, eh?”

“No, I am not at all happy.”

Alistair Blunt said:

“I’ve killed three people. So presumably I ought to be hanged. But you’ve heard my defence.”

“Which is—exactly?”

“That I believe, with all my heart and soul, that I am necessary to the continued peace and well-being⁷⁴ of this country.”

Hercule Poirot allowed:

“That may be—yes.”

“You agree, don’t you?”

“I agree, yes. You stand for all the things that to my mind are important. For sanity⁷⁵ and balanceand stability and honest dealing.”

Alistair Blunt said quietly:

“Thanks.”

He added:

“Well, what about it?”

“You suggest that I—retire from the case?”

“Yes.”

“And your wife?”

“I’ve got a good deal of pull. Mistaken identity, that’s the line to take.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then,” said Alistair Blunt simply, “I’m for it.”

He went on:

“It’s in your hands, Poirot. It’s up to you. But I tell you this—and it’s not just self-preservation—I’m needed in the world. And do you know why? Because I’m an honest man. And because I’vegot common sense—and no particular axe⁷⁶ of my own to grind.”

Poirot nodded. Strangely enough, he believed all that.

He said:

“Yes, that is one side. You are the right man in the right place. You have sanity, judgement,balance. But there is the other side. Three human beings who are dead.”

“Yes, but think of them! Mabelle Sainsbury Seale—you said yourself—a woman with thebrains of a hen! Amberiotis—a crook⁷⁷ and a blackmailer!”

“And Morley?”

“I’ve told you before. I’m sorry about Morley. But after all—he was a decent fellow and a gooddentist—but there are other dentists.”

“Yes,” said Poirot, “there are other dentists. And Frank Carter? You would have let him die,too, without regret?”

Blunt said:

“I don’t waste any pity on him. He’s no good. An utter rotter.”

Poirot said:

“But a human being….”

“Oh well, we’re all human beings….”

“Yes, we are all human beings. That is what you have not remembered. You have said thatMabelle Sainsbury Seale was a foolish human being and Amberiotis an evil one, and Frank Cartera wastrel—and Morley—Morley was only a dentist and there are other dentists. That is where youand I, M. Blunt, do not see alike. For to me the lives of those four people are just as important asyour life.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No, I am not wrong. You are a man of great natural honesty and rectitude. You took one stepaside—and outwardly it has not affected⁷⁸ you. Publicly you have continued the same, upright,trustworthy, honest. But within you the love of power grew to over-whelming heights. So yousacrificed four human lives and thought them of no account.”

“Don’t you realize, Poirot, that the safety and happiness of the whole nation depends on me?”

“I am not concerned with nations, Monsieur. I am concerned with the lives of privateindividuals who have the right not to have their lives taken from them.”

He got up.

“So that’s your answer,” said Alistair Blunt.

Hercule Poirot said in a tired voice:

“Yes—that is my answer….”

He went to the door and opened it. Two men came in.

 

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