Poirot replied drily:
'I have taken that fact into consideration from the moment that Theresa Arundell mentioned that the last time she saw Dr Donaldson was when he dined at Littlegreen House on April 14th.'
'I can't quite see -' I broke off.
'What is it you cannot quite see?'
'Well, if Donaldson had planned to do away with Miss Arundell by scientific means – by inoculation, that is to say – I can't see why he resorted to such a clumsy device as a string across the stairs.'
'En verite, Hastings, there are moments when I lose patience with you! One method is a highly scientific one needing fully specialized knowledge. That is so, is it not?'
'Yes.'
'And the other is a homely simple method – 'the kind that mother makes' – as the advertisements say. Is that not right?'
'Yes, exactly.'
'Then think, Hastings – think. Lie back in your chair, close the eyes, employ the little grey cells.'
I obeyed. That is to say, I leant back in the chair and closed my eyes and endeavoured to carry out the third part of Poirot's instructions. The result, however, did not seem to clarify matters much.
I opened my eyes to find Poirot regarding me with the kindly attention a nurse might display towards a childish charge.
'Eh bien?'
I made a desperate attempt to emulate Poirot' s manner.
'Well,' I said, 'it seems to me that the kind of person who laid the original boobytrap is not the kind of person to plan out a scientific murder.'
'Exactly.'
'And I doubt if a mind trained to scientific complexities would think of anything so childish as the accident plan – it would be altogether too haphazard.'
'Very clearly reasoned.'
Emboldened, I went on:
'Therefore, the only logical solution seems to be this – the two attempts were planned by two different people. We have here to deal with murder attempted by two entirely different people.'
'You do not think that is too much of a coincidence?'
'You said yourself once that one coincidence is nearly always found in a murder case.'
'Yes, that is true. I have to admit it.'
'Well, then.'
'And who do you suggest for your villains?'
'Donaldson and Theresa Arundell. A doctor is clearly indicated for the final and successful murder. On the other hand, we know that Theresa Arundell is concerned in the first attempt. I think it's possible that they acted quite independently of each other.'
'You are so fond of saying 'we know,' Hastings. I can assure you that no matter what you know, I do not know that Theresa was implicated.'
'But Miss Lawson's story.'
'Miss Lawson's story is Miss Lawson's story. Just that.'
'But she says -'
'She says – she says… Always you are so ready to take what people say for a proved and accepted fact. Now listen, mon cher, I told you at the time, did I not, that something struck me as wrong about Miss Lawson's story?'
'Yes, I remember your saying so. But you couldn't get hold of what it was.'
'Well, I have done so now. A little moment and I will show you what I, imbecile that I am, ought to have seen at once.'
He went over to the desk and opening a drawer took out a sheet of cardboard. He cut into this with a pair of scissors, motioning to me not to overlook what he was doing.
'Patience, Hastings, in a little moment we will proceed to our experiment.'
I averted my eyes obligingly.
In a minute or two Poirot uttered an exclamation of satisfaction. He put away the scissors, dropped the fragments of cardboard into the waste-paper basket and came across the room to me.
'Now, do not look. Continue to avert the eyes while I pin something to the lapel of your coat.'
I humoured him. Poirot completed the proceeding to his satisfaction, then, propelling me gently to my feet he drew me across the room, and into the adjoining bedroom.
'Now, Hastings, regard yourself in the glass. You are wearing, are you not, a fashionable brooch with your initials on it – only, bien entendu, the brooch is made not of chromium nor stainless steel, nor gold, nor platinum – but of humble cardboard!'
I looked at myself and smiled. Poirot is uncommonly neat with his fingers. I was wearing a very fair representation of Theresa Arundell's brooch – a circle cut out of cardboard and enclosing my initials – A.H.
'Eh bien,' said Poirot. 'You are satisfied? You have there, have you not, a very smart brooch with your initials?'
'A most handsome affair,' I agreed.
'It is true that it does not gleam and reflect the light, but all the same you are prepared to admit that that brooch could be seen plainly from some distance away?'
'I've never doubted it.'
'Quite so. Doubt is not your strong point. Simple faith is more characteristic of you. And now, Hastings, be so good as to remove your coat.'
Wondering a little, I did so. Poirot divested himself of his own coat and slipped on mine, turning away a little as he did so.
'And now,' he said. 'Regard how the brooch – the brooch with your initials – becomes me?'
He whisked round. I stared at him – for the moment uncomprehendingly. Then I saw the point.
'What a blithering fool I am! Of course. It's H.A. in the brooch, not A.H. at all.'
Poirot beamed on me, as he reassumed his own clothes and handed me mine.
'Exactly – and now you see what struck me as wrong with Miss Lawson's story. She stated that she had seen Theresa's initials clearly on the brooch she was wearing. But she saw Theresa in the glass. So, if she saw the initials at all, she must have seen them reversed.'
'Well,' I argued. 'Perhaps she did, and realized that they were reversed.'
'Mon cher, did that occur to you just now? Did you exclaim, 'Ha! Poirot, you've got it wrong – that's H.A. really – not A.H.'? No, you did not. And yet you are a good deal more intelligent, I should say, than Miss Lawson. Do not tell me that a muddleheaded woman like that woke up suddenly, and still half-asleep, realized that A.T. was really T.A. No, that is not at all consistent with the mentality of Miss Lawson.'
'She was determined it should be Theresa,' I said slowly.
'You are getting nearer, my friend. You remember, I hint to her that she could not really see the face of any one on the stairs, and immediately – what does she do? Remembers Theresa's brooch and lugs that in – forgetting that the mere fact of having seen it in the glass gave her own story the lie.'
The telephone bell rang sharply. Poirot crossed to it.
He only spoke a few noncommittal words.
'Yes? Yes… certainly. Yes, quite convenient. The afternoon, I think. Yes, two o'clock will do admirably.'
He replaced the receiver and turned to me with a smile.
'Dr Donaldson is anxious to have a talk with me. He is coming here tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock. We progress, mon ami, we progress.'
Chapter 26
MRS. TANIOS REFUSES TO SPEAK
