He was silent for a minute or two, then he said, 'If we're to go by what they say, the medico thinks Despard did it, Despard thinks the medico did it, the girl thinks Mrs. Lorrimer did it – and Mrs. Lorrimer won't say! Nothing very illuminating there.'
'Perhaps not,' said Poirot.
Battle shot him a quick glance.
'You think there is?'
Poirot waved an airy hand.
'A nuance – nothing more! Nothing to go upon.'
Battle continued. 'You two gentlemen won't say what you think -'
'No evidence,' said Race curtly.
'Oh, you men!' sighed Mrs. Oliver, despising such reticence.
'Let's look at the rough possibilities,' said Battle. He considered a minute. 'I put the doctor first, I think. Specious sort of customer. Would know the right spot to shove the dagger in. But there's not much more than that to it. Then take Despard. There's a man with any amount of nerve. A man accustomed to take quick decisions and a man who's quite at home doing dangerous things. Mrs. Lorrimer? She's got any amount of nerve, too, and she's the sort of woman who might have a secret in her life. She looks as though she's known trouble. On the other hand I'd say she's what I call a high principled woman – sort of woman who might be headmistress of a girls' school. It isn't easy to think of her sticking a knife into anyone. In fact, I don't think she did. And lastly there's little Miss Meredith. We don't know anything about her. She seems an ordinary, good-looking, rather shy girl. But one doesn't know, as I say, anything about her.'
'We know that Shaitana believed she had committed murder,' said Poirot.
'The angelic face masking the demon,' mused Mrs. Oliver.
'This getting us anywhere, Battle?' asked Colonel Race.
'Unprofitable speculation, you think, sir? Well, there's bound to be speculation in a case like this.'
'Isn't it better to find out something about these people?'
Battle smiled. 'Oh, we shall be hard at work on that. I think you could help us there.'
'Certainly. How?'
'As regards Major Despard. He's been abroad a lot – in South America, in East Africa, in South Africa – you've means of knowing those parts. You could get information about him.' Race nodded.
'It shall be done. I'll get all available data.'
'Oh,' cried Mrs. Oliver. 'I've got a plan. There are four of us – four sleuths as you might say – and four of them! How would it be if we each took one? Backed our fancy! Colonel Race takes Major Despard, Superintendent Battle takes Doctor Roberts. I'll take Anne Meredith, and Monsieur Poirot takes Mrs. Lorrimer. Each of us to follow our own line!'
Superintendent Battle shook his head decisively.
'Couldn't quite do that, Mrs. Oliver. This is official, you see. I'm in charge. I've got to investigate all lines. Besides it's all very well to say back your fancy. Two of us might want to back the same horse! Colonel Race hasn't said he suspects Major Despard. And Monsieur Poirot mayn't be putting his money on Mrs. Lorrimer.'
Mrs. Oliver sighed.
'It was such a good plan,' she sighed regretfully. 'So neat.' Then she cheered up a little. 'But you don't mind me doing a little investigating on my own, do you?'
'No,' said Superintendent Battle slowly. 'I can't say I object to that. In fact, it's out of my power to object. Having been at this party tonight, you're naturally free to do anything your own curiosity or interest suggests. But I'd just like to point out to you, Mrs. Oliver, that you'd better be a little careful.'
'Discretion itself,' said Mrs. Oliver. 'I shan't breathe a word of – of anything -' she ended a little lamely.
'I do not think that was quite Superintendent Battle's meaning,' said Hercule Poirot. 'He meant that you will be dealing with a person who has already, to the best of our belief, killed twice – a person, therefore, who will not hesitate to kill a third time – if he considers it necessary.'
Mrs. Oliver looked at him thoughtfully. Then she smiled – an agreeable, engaging smile rather like that of an impudent small child.
'You have been warned,' she quoted. 'Thank you, Monsieur Poirot, I'll watch my step. But I'm not going to be out of this.'
Poirot bowed gracefully.
'Permit me to say – you are the sport, madame.'
'I presume,' said Mrs. Oliver, sitting up very straight and speaking in a businesslike committee meeting manner, 'that all information we receive will be pooled – that is, that we will not keep any knowledge to ourselves. Our own deductions and impressions, of course, we are entitled to keep up our sleeves.'
Superintendent Battle sighed.
'This isn't a detective story, Mrs. Oliver,' he said. Race said, 'Naturally all information must be handed over to the police.'
Having said this in his most 'Orderly Room' voice he added, with a slight twinkle in his eye, 'I'm sure you'll play fair, Mrs. Oliver. The stained glove, the fingerprint on the tooth glass, the fragment of burned paper, you'll turn them over to Battle here.'
'You may laugh,' said Mrs. Oliver, 'but a woman's intuition -' She nodded her head with decision.
Race rose to his feet.
'I'll have Despard looked up for you. It may take a little time. Anything else I can do?'
'I don't think so, thank you, sir. You've no hints? I'd value anything of that kind.'
'H'm. Well – I'd keep a special lookout for shooting or poison or accidents, but I expect you're on to that already.'
'I'd made a note of that – yes, sir.'
'Good man, Battle. You don't need me to teach you your job. Good night, Mrs. Oliver. Good night, Monsieur Poirot.' And with a final nod to Battle, Colonel Race left the room.
'Who is he?' asked Mrs. Oliver.
'Very fine Army record,' said Battle. 'Traveled a lot, too. Not many parts of the world he doesn't know about.'
'Secret Service, I suppose,' said Mrs. Oliver. 'You can't tell me so, I know, but he wouldn't have been asked otherwise this evening. The four murderers and the four sleuths – Scotland Yard. Secret Service. Private. Fiction. A clever idea.'
Poirot shook his head.
'You are in error, madame. It was a very stupid idea. The tiger was alarmed – and the tiger sprang.'
'The tiger? Why the tiger?'
'By the tiger I mean the murderer,' said Poirot.
Battle said bluntly, 'What's your idea of the right line to take, Monsieur Poirot? That's one question. And I'd also like to know what you think of the psychology of these four people. You're rather hot on that.'
Still smoothing his bridge scores, Poirot said, 'You are right; psychology is very important. We know the kind of murder that has been committed, the way it was committed. If we have a person who from the psychological point of view could not have committed that particular type of murder, then we can dismiss that person from our calculations. We know something about these people. We have our own impression of them, we know the line that each has elected to take, and we know something about their minds and their characters from what we have learned about them as card players and from the study of their handwriting and of these scores. But alas! It is not too easy to give a definite pronouncement. This murder required audacity and nerve – a person who was willing to take a risk.
'Well, we have Doctor Roberts – a bluffer, an overbidder of his hand, a man with complete confidence in his own powers to pull off a risky thing. His psychology fits very well with the crime. One might say, then, that that automatically wipes out Miss Meredith. She is timid, frightened of overbidding her hand, careful, economical prudent and lacking in self-confidence – the last type of person to carry out a bold and risky coup. But a timid person will murder out of fear. A frightened nervous person can be made desperate, can turn like a rat at bay if driven into a corner. If Miss Meredith had committed a crime in the past, and if she believed that Mr. Shaitana knew the
