Reading Help The Mysterious Affair at Styles Ch.VII-XIII
apparently suffering the keenest agony. `
` `
` "Good heavens, Poirot!" I cried. "What is the matter? Are you `
` taken ill?" `
` `
` "No, no," he gasped. "It is--it is--that I have an idea!" `
` `
` "Oh!" I exclaimed, much relieved. "One of your 'little ideas'?" `
` `
` "Ah, ma foi, no!" replied Poirot frankly. "This time it is an `
` idea gigantic! Stupendous! And you--_you_, my friend, have given `
` it to me!" `
` `
` Suddenly clasping me in his arms, he kissed me warmly on both `
` cheeks, and before I had recovered from my surprise ran headlong `
` from the room. `
` `
` Mary Cavendish entered at that moment. `
` `
` "What is the matter with Monsieur Poirot? He rushed past me `
` crying out: 'A garage! For the love of Heaven, direct me to a `
` garage, madame!' And, before I could answer, he had dashed out `
` into the street." `
` `
` I hurried to the window. True enough, there he was, tearing down `
` the street, hatless, and gesticulating as he went. I turned to `
` Mary with a gesture of despair. `
` `
` "He'll be stopped by a policeman in another minute. There he `
` goes, round the corner!" `
` `
` Our eyes met, and we stared helplessly at one another. `
` `
` "What can be the matter?" `
` `
` I shook my head. `
` `
` "I don't know. He was building card houses, when suddenly he `
` said he had an idea, and rushed off as you saw." `
` `
` "Well," said Mary, "I expect he will be back before dinner." `
` `
` But night fell, and Poirot had not returned. `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER XII `
` `
` THE LAST LINK `
` `
` `
` POIROT'S abrupt departure had intrigued us all greatly. Sunday `
` morning wore away, and still he did not reappear. But about `
` three o'clock a ferocious and prolonged hooting outside drove us `
` to the window, to see Poirot alighting from a car, accompanied by `
` Japp and Summerhaye. The little man was transformed. He `
` radiated an absurd complacency. He bowed with exaggerated `
` respect to Mary Cavendish. `
` `
` "Madame, I have your permission to hold a little reunion in the `
` salon? It is necessary for every one to attend." `
` `
` Mary smiled sadly. `
` `
` "You know, Monsieur Poirot, that you have carte blanche in every `
` way." `
` `
` "You are too amiable, madame." `
` `
` Still beaming, Poirot marshalled us all into the drawing-room, `
` bringing forward chairs as he did so. `
` `
` "Miss Howard--here. Mademoiselle Cynthia. Monsieur Lawrence. `
` The good Dorcas. And Annie. Bien! We must delay our proceedings `
` a few minutes until Mr. Inglethorp arrives. I have sent him a `
` note." `
` `
` Miss Howard rose immediately from her seat. `
` `
` "If that man comes into the house, I leave it!" `
` `
` "No, no!" Poirot went up to her and pleaded in a low voice. `
` `
` Finally Miss Howard consented to return to her chair. A few `
` minutes later Alfred Inglethorp entered the room. `
` `
` The company once assembled, Poirot rose from his seat with the `
` air of a popular lecturer, and bowed politely to his audience. `
` `
` "Messieurs, mesdames, as you all know, I was called in by `
` Monsieur John Cavendish to investigate this case. I at once `
` examined the bedroom of the deceased which, by the advice of the `
` doctors, had been kept locked, and was consequently exactly as it `
` had been when the tragedy occurred. I found: first, a fragment `
` of green material; second, a stain on the carpet near the window, `
` still damp; thirdly, an empty box of bromide powders. `
` `
` "To take the fragment of green material first, I found it caught `
` in the bolt of the communicating door between that room and the `
` adjoining one occupied by Mademoiselle Cynthia. I handed the `
` fragment over to the police who did not consider it of much `
` importance. Nor did they recognize it for what it was--a piece `
` torn from a green land armlet." `
` `
` There was a little stir of excitement. `
` `
` "Now there was only one person at Styles who worked on the `
` land--Mrs. Cavendish. Therefore it must have been Mrs. Cavendish `
` who entered the deceased's room through the door communicating `
` with Mademoiselle Cynthia's room." `
` `
` "But that door was bolted on the inside!" I cried. `
` `
` "When I examined the room, yes. But in the first place we have `
` only her word for it, since it was she who tried that particular `
` door and reported it fastened. In the ensuing confusion she `
` would have had ample opportunity to shoot the bolt across. I `
` took an early opportunity of verifying my conjectures. To begin `
` with, the fragment corresponds exactly with a tear in Mrs. `
` Cavendish's armlet. Also, at the inquest, Mrs. Cavendish `
` declared that she had heard, from her own room, the fall of the `
` table by the bed. I took an early opportunity of testing that `
` statement by stationing my friend Monsieur Hastings in the left `
` wing of the building, just outside Mrs. Cavendish's door. I `
` myself, in company with the police, went to the deceased's room, `
` and whilst there I, apparently accidentally, knocked over the `
` table in question, but found that, as I had expected, Monsieur `
` Hastings had heard no sound at all. This confirmed my belief `
` that Mrs. Cavendish was not speaking the truth when she declared `
` that she had been dressing in her room at the time of the `
` tragedy. In fact, I was convinced that, far from having been in `
` her own room, Mrs. Cavendish was actually in the deceased's room `
` when the alarm was given." `
` `
` I shot a quick glance at Mary. She was very pale, but smiling. `
` `
` "I proceeded to reason on that assumption. Mrs. Cavendish is in `
` her mother-in-law's room. We will say that she is seeking for `
` something and has not yet found it. Suddenly Mrs. Inglethorp `
` awakens and is seized with an alarming paroxysm. She flings out `
` her arm, overturning the bed table, and then pulls desperately at `
` the bell. Mrs. Cavendish, startled, drops her candle, scattering `
` the grease on the carpet. She picks it up, and retreats quickly `
` to Mademoiselle Cynthia's room, closing the door behind her. She `
` hurries out into the passage, for the servants must not find her `
` where she is. But it is too late! Already footsteps are echoing `
` along the gallery which connects the two wings. What can she do? `
` Quick as thought, she hurries back to the young girl's room, and `
` starts shaking her awake. The hastily aroused household come `
` trooping down the passage. They are all busily battering at Mrs. `
` Inglethorp's door. It occurs to nobody that Mrs. Cavendish has `
` not arrived with the rest, but--and this is significant--I can `
` find no one who saw her come from the other wing." He looked at `
` Mary Cavendish. "Am I right, madame?" `
` `
` She bowed her head. `
` `
` "Quite right, monsieur. You understand that, if I had thought I `
` would do my husband any good by revealing these facts, I would `
` have done so. But it did not seem to me to bear upon the `
` question of his guilt or innocence." `
` `
` "In a sense, that is correct, madame. But it cleared my mind of `
` many misconceptions, and left me free to see other facts in their `
` true significance." `
` `
` "The will!" cried Lawrence. "Then it was you, Mary, who `
` destroyed the will?" `
` `
` She shook her head, and Poirot shook his also. `
` `
` "No," he said quietly. "There is only one person who could `
` possibly have destroyed that will--Mrs. Inglethorp herself!" `
` `
` "Impossible!" I exclaimed. "She had only made it out that very `
` afternoon!" `
` `
` "Nevertheless, mon ami, it was Mrs. Inglethorp. Because, in no `
` other way can you account for the fact that, on one of the `
` hottest days of the year, Mrs. Inglethorp ordered a fire to be `
` lighted in her room." `
` `
` I gave a gasp. What idiots we had been never to think of that `
` fire as being incongruous! Poirot was continuing: `
` `
` "The temperature on that day, messieurs, was 80 degrees in the `
` shade. Yet Mrs. Inglethorp ordered a fire! Why? Because she `
` wished to destroy something, and could think of no other way. `
` You will remember that, in consequence of the War economics `
` practiced at Styles, no waste paper was thrown away. There was `
` therefore no means of destroying a thick document such as a will. `
` The moment I heard of a fire being lighted in Mrs. Inglethorp's `
` room, I leaped to the conclusion that it was to destroy some `
` important document--possibly a will. So the discovery of the `
` charred fragment in the grate was no surprise to me. I did not, `
` of course, know at the time that the will in question had only `
` been made this afternoon, and I will admit that, when I learnt `
` that fact, I fell into a grievous error. I came to the `
` conclusion that Mrs. Inglethorp's determination to destroy her `
` will arose as a direct consequence of the quarrel she had that `
` afternoon, and that therefore the quarrel took place after, and `
`
` `
` "Good heavens, Poirot!" I cried. "What is the matter? Are you `
` taken ill?" `
` `
` "No, no," he gasped. "It is--it is--that I have an idea!" `
` `
` "Oh!" I exclaimed, much relieved. "One of your 'little ideas'?" `
` `
` "Ah, ma foi, no!" replied Poirot frankly. "This time it is an `
` idea gigantic! Stupendous! And you--_you_, my friend, have given `
` it to me!" `
` `
` Suddenly clasping me in his arms, he kissed me warmly on both `
` cheeks, and before I had recovered from my surprise ran headlong `
` from the room. `
` `
` Mary Cavendish entered at that moment. `
` `
` "What is the matter with Monsieur Poirot? He rushed past me `
` crying out: 'A garage! For the love of Heaven, direct me to a `
` garage, madame!' And, before I could answer, he had dashed out `
` into the street." `
` `
` I hurried to the window. True enough, there he was, tearing down `
` the street, hatless, and gesticulating as he went. I turned to `
` Mary with a gesture of despair. `
` `
` "He'll be stopped by a policeman in another minute. There he `
` goes, round the corner!" `
` `
` Our eyes met, and we stared helplessly at one another. `
` `
` "What can be the matter?" `
` `
` I shook my head. `
` `
` "I don't know. He was building card houses, when suddenly he `
` said he had an idea, and rushed off as you saw." `
` `
` "Well," said Mary, "I expect he will be back before dinner." `
` `
` But night fell, and Poirot had not returned. `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER XII `
` `
` THE LAST LINK `
` `
` `
` POIROT'S abrupt departure had intrigued us all greatly. Sunday `
` morning wore away, and still he did not reappear. But about `
` three o'clock a ferocious and prolonged hooting outside drove us `
` to the window, to see Poirot alighting from a car, accompanied by `
` Japp and Summerhaye. The little man was transformed. He `
` radiated an absurd complacency. He bowed with exaggerated `
` respect to Mary Cavendish. `
` `
` "Madame, I have your permission to hold a little reunion in the `
` salon? It is necessary for every one to attend." `
` `
` Mary smiled sadly. `
` `
` "You know, Monsieur Poirot, that you have carte blanche in every `
` way." `
` `
` "You are too amiable, madame." `
` `
` Still beaming, Poirot marshalled us all into the drawing-room, `
` bringing forward chairs as he did so. `
` `
` "Miss Howard--here. Mademoiselle Cynthia. Monsieur Lawrence. `
` The good Dorcas. And Annie. Bien! We must delay our proceedings `
` a few minutes until Mr. Inglethorp arrives. I have sent him a `
` note." `
` `
` Miss Howard rose immediately from her seat. `
` `
` "If that man comes into the house, I leave it!" `
` `
` "No, no!" Poirot went up to her and pleaded in a low voice. `
` `
` Finally Miss Howard consented to return to her chair. A few `
` minutes later Alfred Inglethorp entered the room. `
` `
` The company once assembled, Poirot rose from his seat with the `
` air of a popular lecturer, and bowed politely to his audience. `
` `
` "Messieurs, mesdames, as you all know, I was called in by `
` Monsieur John Cavendish to investigate this case. I at once `
` examined the bedroom of the deceased which, by the advice of the `
` doctors, had been kept locked, and was consequently exactly as it `
` had been when the tragedy occurred. I found: first, a fragment `
` of green material; second, a stain on the carpet near the window, `
` still damp; thirdly, an empty box of bromide powders. `
` `
` "To take the fragment of green material first, I found it caught `
` in the bolt of the communicating door between that room and the `
` adjoining one occupied by Mademoiselle Cynthia. I handed the `
` fragment over to the police who did not consider it of much `
` importance. Nor did they recognize it for what it was--a piece `
` torn from a green land armlet." `
` `
` There was a little stir of excitement. `
` `
` "Now there was only one person at Styles who worked on the `
` land--Mrs. Cavendish. Therefore it must have been Mrs. Cavendish `
` who entered the deceased's room through the door communicating `
` with Mademoiselle Cynthia's room." `
` `
` "But that door was bolted on the inside!" I cried. `
` `
` "When I examined the room, yes. But in the first place we have `
` only her word for it, since it was she who tried that particular `
` door and reported it fastened. In the ensuing confusion she `
` would have had ample opportunity to shoot the bolt across. I `
` took an early opportunity of verifying my conjectures. To begin `
` with, the fragment corresponds exactly with a tear in Mrs. `
` Cavendish's armlet. Also, at the inquest, Mrs. Cavendish `
` declared that she had heard, from her own room, the fall of the `
` table by the bed. I took an early opportunity of testing that `
` statement by stationing my friend Monsieur Hastings in the left `
` wing of the building, just outside Mrs. Cavendish's door. I `
` myself, in company with the police, went to the deceased's room, `
` and whilst there I, apparently accidentally, knocked over the `
` table in question, but found that, as I had expected, Monsieur `
` Hastings had heard no sound at all. This confirmed my belief `
` that Mrs. Cavendish was not speaking the truth when she declared `
` that she had been dressing in her room at the time of the `
` tragedy. In fact, I was convinced that, far from having been in `
` her own room, Mrs. Cavendish was actually in the deceased's room `
` when the alarm was given." `
` `
` I shot a quick glance at Mary. She was very pale, but smiling. `
` `
` "I proceeded to reason on that assumption. Mrs. Cavendish is in `
` her mother-in-law's room. We will say that she is seeking for `
` something and has not yet found it. Suddenly Mrs. Inglethorp `
` awakens and is seized with an alarming paroxysm. She flings out `
` her arm, overturning the bed table, and then pulls desperately at `
` the bell. Mrs. Cavendish, startled, drops her candle, scattering `
` the grease on the carpet. She picks it up, and retreats quickly `
` to Mademoiselle Cynthia's room, closing the door behind her. She `
` hurries out into the passage, for the servants must not find her `
` where she is. But it is too late! Already footsteps are echoing `
` along the gallery which connects the two wings. What can she do? `
` Quick as thought, she hurries back to the young girl's room, and `
` starts shaking her awake. The hastily aroused household come `
` trooping down the passage. They are all busily battering at Mrs. `
` Inglethorp's door. It occurs to nobody that Mrs. Cavendish has `
` not arrived with the rest, but--and this is significant--I can `
` find no one who saw her come from the other wing." He looked at `
` Mary Cavendish. "Am I right, madame?" `
` `
` She bowed her head. `
` `
` "Quite right, monsieur. You understand that, if I had thought I `
` would do my husband any good by revealing these facts, I would `
` have done so. But it did not seem to me to bear upon the `
` question of his guilt or innocence." `
` `
` "In a sense, that is correct, madame. But it cleared my mind of `
` many misconceptions, and left me free to see other facts in their `
` true significance." `
` `
` "The will!" cried Lawrence. "Then it was you, Mary, who `
` destroyed the will?" `
` `
` She shook her head, and Poirot shook his also. `
` `
` "No," he said quietly. "There is only one person who could `
` possibly have destroyed that will--Mrs. Inglethorp herself!" `
` `
` "Impossible!" I exclaimed. "She had only made it out that very `
` afternoon!" `
` `
` "Nevertheless, mon ami, it was Mrs. Inglethorp. Because, in no `
` other way can you account for the fact that, on one of the `
` hottest days of the year, Mrs. Inglethorp ordered a fire to be `
` lighted in her room." `
` `
` I gave a gasp. What idiots we had been never to think of that `
` fire as being incongruous! Poirot was continuing: `
` `
` "The temperature on that day, messieurs, was 80 degrees in the `
` shade. Yet Mrs. Inglethorp ordered a fire! Why? Because she `
` wished to destroy something, and could think of no other way. `
` You will remember that, in consequence of the War economics `
` practiced at Styles, no waste paper was thrown away. There was `
` therefore no means of destroying a thick document such as a will. `
` The moment I heard of a fire being lighted in Mrs. Inglethorp's `
` room, I leaped to the conclusion that it was to destroy some `
` important document--possibly a will. So the discovery of the `
` charred fragment in the grate was no surprise to me. I did not, `
` of course, know at the time that the will in question had only `
` been made this afternoon, and I will admit that, when I learnt `
` that fact, I fell into a grievous error. I came to the `
` conclusion that Mrs. Inglethorp's determination to destroy her `
` will arose as a direct consequence of the quarrel she had that `
` afternoon, and that therefore the quarrel took place after, and `
`