Hercule Poirot's Casebook

inquiries. The man was dead. And he was very neatly and

tidily dead. In other words the bad fish was covered up with

the sauce!

'He had been seen in the King's Road at seven o'clock. He

had had dinner here at seven-thirty - two hours before he

died. It all fitted in - the evidence of the stomach contents,

the evidence of the lettffr. Much too much sauce! You

couldn't see the fish at all!

'Devoted nephew wrote the letter, devoted nephew had

beautiful alibi for time of death. Death very simple - a fall

down the stairs. Simple accident? Simple murder? Everyone

says the former.

'Devoted nephew only surviving relative. Devoted

nephew will i.herit - but is there anything to inherit? Uncle

,r.

'Nat&

'As you .

182

a brother. And brother in his time had

Ce. And brother lives in a big rich house on

't would seem that rich wife must have

You see the sequence - rich wife leaves

, Anthony leaves money to Henry,

George- a complete chain.'

very pretty in theory,' said Bonnington. 'But what did

you do?'

'Once you know - you can usually get hold of what you

want. Henry had died two hours after a meal- that is all the

inquest really bothered about. But supposing the meal was

not dinner, but lunch. Put yourself in George's place. George

wants money - badly. Anthony Gascoigne is dying - but his

death is no good to George. His money goes to Henry, and

Henry Gascoigne may live for years. So Henry must die too-and

the sooner the better- but his death must take place ajer

Anthony's, and at the same time George mu,st have an alibi.

Henry's habit of dining regularly at a restaurant on two

evenings of the week suggest an alibi to George. Being a

cautious fellow', he tries his plan out first. He impersonates his

uncle on Monday evening at the restaurant in question. It goes

without a hitch. Everyone there accepts him as his uncle. He

is satisfied. He has only to wait till Uncle Anthony shows

definite signs of pegging out. The time comes. He writes a

letter to his uncle on the afternoon of the second November

but dates it the third. He comes up to town on the afternoon

of the third, calls on his uncle, and carries his scheme into

action. A sharp shove and down the stairs goes Uncle Henry.

George hunts about for the letter he has written, and shoves it

in the pocket of his uncle's dressing-gown. At seven-thirty he

is at the Gallant Endeavour, beard, bushy eyebrows all

complete. Undoubtedly Mr Henry Gascoigne is alive at

seven-thirty. Then a rapid metamorphosis in a lavatory and

back full speed in his car to Wimbledon and an evening of

bridge. The perfect alibi.'

Mr Bonnington looked at him.

'But the postmark on the letter?'

'Oh, that was very simple. The postmark was smudg.

Why? It had been altered with lamp black from second

.November to third November. You would not notice it unless

ou zoere looking for it. And finally there Were the blackbirds.'

185

'Blackbirds?'

'Four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie! Or black-berries

if you prefer to be literal! George, you comprehend,

was after all not quite a good enough actor. Do you remember

the fellow who blacked himself all over to play Othello? That

is the kind of actor you have got to be in crime. George looked

like his uncle and walked like his uncle and spoke like his

uncle and had his uncles' beard and eyebrows, but he forgot

to eat like his uncle. He ordered the dishes that he himself

liked. Blackberries discolour the teeth - the corpse's teeth

were not discoloured, and yet Henry Gascoigne ate

blackberries at the Gallant Endeavour that night. But there

were no blackberries in the stomach. I asked this morning.

And George had been fool enough to keep the beard and the

rest of the make-up. Oh! plenty of evidence once you look for

it. I called on George and rattled him. That finished it! He

had been eating blackberries again, by the way. A greedy

fellow - cared a lot about his food. Eh bien, greed will hang

him all right unless I am very much mistaken.'

A waitress brought them two portions of blackberry and

apple tart.

'Take it away,' said Mr Bonnington. 'One can't be too

careftil. Bring me a small helping of sago pudding.'

186

PROBLEM AT SEA

"lonel Clappertonl' said General Forbes.

He said it with an effect midway between a snort and a sniff.

Miss Ellie Henderson leaned forward, a strand of her soft

grey hair blowing across her face. Her eyes, dark and snapping,

gleamed with a wicked pleasure.

'Such a soldierly-looking man!' she said with malicious

intent, and smoothed back the lock of hair to await the result.

'Soldierly!' exploded General Forbes. He tugged at his

military moustache and his face became bright red.

'In the Guards, wasn't he?' murmured Miss Henderson,

completing her work.

'Guards? Guards? Pack of nonsense. Fellow was on the

music hall stage! Fact! Joined up and was out in France

counting tins of plum and apple. Huns dropped a stray bomb

and he went home with a flesh wound in the arm. Somehow or

other got into Lady Carfington's hospital.'

'So that's how they met.'

'Fact! Fellow played the wounded hero. Lady Carrington