Five Little Pigs

‘Of course I knew that she didn’t love me, but I saw that she was disturbed and disillusioned by Amyas’s present infatuation. That is a mood when a woman can very easily be won. She agreed to come to me that night. And she came.’

Blake paused. He found now a difficulty in getting the words out.

‘She came to my room. And then, with my arms round her, she told me quite coolly that it was no good! After all, she said, she was a one-man woman. She was Amyas Crale’s, for better or worse. She agreed that she had treated me very badly, but said she couldn’t help it. She asked me to forgive her.

‘And she left me.She left me! Do you wonder, M. Poirot, that my hatred of her was heightened a hundredfold? Do you wonder that I have never forgiven her? For the insult she did me-as well as for the fact that she killed the friend I loved better than any one in the world!’

Trembling violently, Philip Blake exclaimed:

‘I don’t want to speak of it, do you hear? You’ve got your answer. Now go! And never mention the matter to me again!’

II

‘I want to know, Mr Blake, the order in which your guests left the laboratory that day?’

Meredith Blake protested.

‘But, my dear M. Poirot. After sixteen years! How can I possibly remember? I’ve told you that Caroline came out last.’

‘You aresure of that?’

‘Yes-at least-I think so…’

‘Let us go there now. We must bequite sure, you see.’

Still protesting, Meredith Blake led the way. He unlocked the door and swung back the shutters. Poirot spoke to him authoritatively.

‘Now then, my friend. You have showed your visitors your interesting preparations of herbs. Shut your eyes now and think-’

Meredith Blake did so obediently. Poirot drew a handkerchief from his pocket and gently passed it to and fro. Blake murmured, his nostrils twitching slightly:

‘Yes, yes-extraordinary how things come back to one. Caroline, I remember, had on a pale coffee-coloured dress. Phil was looking bored…He always thought my hobby was quite idiotic.’

Poirot said:

‘Reflect now, you are about to leave the room. You are going to the library where you are going to read the passage about the death of Socrates. Who leaves the room first-do you?’

‘Elsa and I-yes. She passed through the door first. I was close behind her. We were talking. I stood there waiting for the others to come so that I could lock the door again. Philip-yes, Philip came out next. And Angela-she was asking him what bulls and bears were. They went on through the hall. Amyas followed them. I stood there waiting still-for Caroline, of course.’

‘So you are quite sure Caroline stayed behind. Did you see what she was doing?’

Blake shook his head.

‘No, I had my back to the room, you see. I was talking to Elsa-boring her, I expect-telling her how certain plants must be gathered at the full of the moon according to old superstition. And then Caroline came out-hurrying a little-and I locked the door.’

He stopped and looked at Poirot, who was replacing a handkerchief in his pocket. Meredith Blake sniffled disgustedly and thought: ‘Why, the fellow actually usesscent!’

Aloud he said:

‘I am quite sure of it. That was the order. Elsa, myself, Philip, Angela and Caroline. Does that help you at all?’

Poirot said:

‘It all fits in. Listen. I want to arrange a meeting here. It will not, I think, be difficult…’

III

‘Well?’

Elsa Dittisham said it almost eagerly-like a child.

‘I want to ask you a question, madame.’

‘Yes?’

Poirot said:

‘After it was all over-the trial, I mean-did Meredith Blake ask you to marry him?’

Elsa stared. She looked contemptuous-almost bored.

‘Yes-he did. Why?’

‘Were you surprised?’

‘Was I? I don’t remember.’

‘What did you say?’

Elsa laughed. She said:

‘What do you think I said? AfterAmyas -Meredith? It would have been ridiculous! It was stupid of him. He always was rather stupid.’

She smiled suddenly.

‘He wanted, you know, to protect me-to “look after me”-that’s how he put it! He thought like everybody else that the Assizes had been a terrible ordeal for me. And the reporters! And the booing crowds! And all the mud that was slung at me.’

She brooded a minute. Then said:

‘Poor old Meredith! Such an ass!’ And laughed again.

IV

Once again Hercule Poirot encountered the shrewd penetrating glance of Miss Williams, and once again felt the years falling away and himself a meek and apprehensive little boy.

There was, he explained, a question he wished to ask.

Miss Williams intimated her willingness to hear what the question was.

Poirot said slowly, picking his words carefully:

‘Angela Warren was injured as a very young child. In my notes I find two references to that fact. In one of them it is stated that Mrs Crale threw a paperweight at the child. In the other that she attacked the baby with a crowbar. Which of those versions is the right one?’

Miss Williams replied briskly:

‘I never heard anything about a crowbar. The paperweight is the correct story.’

‘Who was your own informant?’

‘Angela herself. She volunteered the information quite early.’

‘What did she say exactly?’