me, I pray of you, six pairs.'
He turned, intercepting Rhoda who was following him.
'As for mademoiselle here, I have a little treat for her. A treat that would be no treat to you, I fancy, Mademoiselle Meredith.'
'What is it?' cried Rhoda.
He lowered his voice. 'A knife, mademoiselle, with which twelve people once stabbed a man. It was given me as a souvenir by the Compagnie Internationale des Wagons Lits.'
'Horrible,' cried Anne.
'Ooh! let me see,' said Rhoda.
Poirot led her through into the other room talking as he went. 'It was given me by the Compagnie Internationale des Wagons Lits because -'
They passed out of the room.
They returned three minutes later. Anne came toward them. 'I think these six are the nicest, Monsieur Poirot. Both these are very good evening shades, and this lighter color would be nice when summer comes and it's daylight in the evening.'
'Mille remerciments, mademoiselle.'
He offered them more sirop which they refused and finally accompanied them to the door, still talking genially. When they had finally departed he returned to the room and went straight to the littered table. The pile of hose still lay in a confused heap. Poirot counted the six selected pairs and then went on to count the others.
He had bought nineteen pairs. There were now only seventeen. He nodded his head slowly.
Chapter 24
ELIMINATION OF THREE MURDERERS?
On arrival in London, Superintendent Battle came straight to Poirot. Anne and Rhoda had then been gone an hour or more.
Without more ado, the superintendent recounted the result of his researches in Devonshire.
'We're on to it – not a doubt of it,' he finished. 'That's what Shaitana was aiming at, with his 'domestic accident' business. But what gets me is the motive. Why did she want to kill the woman?'
'I think I can help you there, my friend.'
'Go ahead, Monsieur Poirot.'
'This afternoon I conducted a little experiment. I induced mademoiselle and her friend to come here. I put to them my usual questions as to what there was in the room that night.'
Battle looked at him curiously.
'You're very keen on that question.'
'Yes, it's useful. It tells me a good deal. Mademoiselle Meredith was suspicious. Very suspicious. She takes nothing for granted that young lady. So that good dog, Hercule Poirot, he does one of his best tricks. He lays a clumsy, amateurish trap. Mademoiselle mentions a case of jewelry. I say was not that at the opposite end of the room from the table with the dagger? Mademoiselle does not fall into the trap. She avoids it cleverly. And after that, she is pleased with herself and her vigilance relaxes. So that is the object of this visit! To get her to admit that she knew where the dagger was and that she noticed it! Her spirits rise when she has, as she thinks, defeated me. She talks quite freely about the jewelry. She has noticed many details of it. There is nothing else in the room that she remembers – except that a vase of chrysanthemums needed its water changed.'
'Well,' said Battle.
'Well, it is significant, that. Suppose we knew nothing about this girl. Her words would give us a clue to her character. She notices flowers – she is then fond of flowers? No, since she does not mention a very big bowl of early tulips which would at once have attracted the attention of a flower lover. No, it is the paid companion who speaks – the girl whose duty it has been to put fresh water in the vases – and allied to that, there is a girl who loves and notices jewelry. Is not that, at least, suggestive?'
'Ah,' said Battle. 'I'm beginning to see what you're driving at.'
'Precisely. As I told you the other day, I place my cards on the table. When you recounted her history the other day and Mrs. Oliver made her startling announcement, my mind went at once to an important point. The murder could not have been committed for gain, since Miss Meredith had still to earn her living after it happened. Why, then? I considered Miss Meredith's temperament as it appeared superficially. A rather timid young girl, poor but well-dressed, fond of pretty things. The temperament, is it not, of a thief, rather than a murderer? And I asked immediately if Mrs. Eldon had been a tidy woman. You replied that no, she had not been tidy. I formed a hypothesis. Supposing that Anne Meredith was a girl with a weak streak in her character – the kind of girl who takes little things from the big shops. Supposing that poor, and yet loving pretty things, she helped herself once or twice to things from her employer. A brooch, perhaps; an odd half crown or two; a string of beads. Mrs. Eldon, careless, untidy, would put down these disappearances to her own carelessness. She would not suspect her gentle little mother's- help. But now suppose a different type of employer – an employer who did notice – who accused Anne Meredith of theft. That would be a possible motive for murder. As I said the other evening, Miss Meredith would only commit a murder through fear. She knows that her employer will be able to prove the theft; there is only one thing that can save her – her employer must die. And so she changes the bottles, and Mrs. Benson dies, ironically enough convinced that the mistake is her own and not suspecting for a minute that the cowed, frightened girl has had a hand in it.'
'It's possible,' said Superintendent Battle. 'It's only a hypothesis, but it's possible.'
'It is a little more than possible, my friend, it is also probable. For this afternoon I laid a little trap nicely baited – the real trap, after the sham one had been circumvented. If what I suspect is true, Anne Meredith will never, never be able to resist a really expensive pair of hose! I ask her to aid me. I let her know carefully that I am not sure exactly how many hose there are. I go out of the room, leaving her alone – and the result, my friend, is that I have now seventeen pairs of hose instead of nineteen, and that two pairs have gone away in Anne Meredith's handbag.'
'Whew!' Superintendent Battle whistled. 'What a risk to take, though.'
'Pas du tout. What does she think I suspect her of? Murder. What is the risk, then, in stealing a pair or two pairs of silk hose? I am not looking for a thief. And besides the thief, or the kleptomaniac, is always the same, convinced that she can get away with it.'
Battle nodded his head.
'That's true enough. Incredibly stupid. The pitcher goes to the well time after time. Well, I think between us we've arrived fairly clearly at the truth. Anne Meredith was caught stealing. Anne Meredith changed a bottle from one shelf to another. We know that was murder, but I'm damned if we could ever prove it. Successful crime number two. Roberts gets away with it. Anne Meredith gets away with it. But what about Shaitana? Did Anne Meredith kill Shaitana?'
He remained silent for a moment or two, then he shook his head. 'It doesn't work out right,' he said reluctantly. 'She's not one to take a risk. Change a couple of bottles, yes. She knew no one could fasten that on her. It was absolutely safe, because anyone might have done it! Of course, it mightn't have worked. Mrs. Benson might have noticed before she drank the stuff, or she mightn't have died from it. It was what I call a hopeful kind of murder. It might work or it mightn't. Actually it did. But Shaitana was a very different pair of shoes. That was deliberate, audacious, purposeful murder.'
Poirot nodded his head. 'I agree with you. The two types of crime are not the same.'
Battle rubbed his nose. 'So that seems to wipe her out as far as he's concerned. Roberts and the girl, both crossed off our list. What about Despard? Any luck with the Luxmore woman?' Poirot narrated his adventures of the preceding afternoon.
Battle grinned. 'I know that type. You can't disentangle what they remember from what they invent.'
Poirot went on. He described Despard's visit, and the story the latter had told.
'Believe him?' Battle asked abruptly.
