Hercule Poirot's Casebook

swaying, his hand to his throat - trying to speak - trying...

Then suddenly, his figure seemed to crumple up. He pitched

headlong.

It was Colonel Clapperton.

Poirot and the ship's doctor rose from their knees by the

prostrate figure.

'All over, I'm afraid. Heart,' said the doctor' briefly.

Poirot nodded. 'The shock of having his trick seen through,'

he said.

He turned to General Forbes. 'It was you, General, who

gave me a valuable hint with your mention of the music hall

stage. I puzzle - I think - and then it comes to me. Supposing

that before the war Clapperton was a ventriloquist. In that case,

201

it would be perfectly possible for three people to hear

Clapperton speak from inside her cabin when she was alread

dead...'

Ellie Henderson was beside him. Her eyes were dark and full

of pain. 'Did you know his heart was weak?' she asked.

'I guessed it... Mrs Clapperton talked of her own he. an

being affected, but she struck me as the type of woman who

likes to be thought ill. Then I picked up a torn prescription

with a very strong dose of digitalin in it. Digitalin is a

medicine but it couldn't be Mrs Clapperton's because digitalin '

dilates the pupils of the eyes. I have never noticed such

phenomenon with her - but when I looked at his eyes I saw the

signs at once.'

ERie murmured: 'So you thought - it might end - this way?'

'The best way, don't you think, ndemoiselle?' he said

gently.

He saw the tears rise in her eyes. She said: 'You've known.

You've known all along... That I cared... But he didn't do it

for me ... It was those girls - youth - it made him feel his

'slavery. He wanted to be free before it was too late... Yes, I'm

sure that's how it was... When did you guess - that it was he?'

'His self-control was too perfect,' said Poirot simply. 'No

matter how galling his wife's conduct, it never seemed to touch

him. That meant either that he was so used to it that it no longer

stung him, or else - eh b/eh - I decided on the latter

alternative... And I was right...

'And then there was his insistence on his conjuring ability-the

evening before the crime he pretended to give himself

away. But a man like Clapperton doesn't give himself away,

There must be a reason. So long as people thought he had beea

a conjuror they weren't likely to think of his having been a vemriloquist.'

'And the voice we heard - Mrs Clapperton's voice?'

'One of the stewardesses had a voice not unlike hers. I

induced her to hide behind the stage and taught her the wrds to say.'

'It was a trick - a cruel trick,' cried out Ellie.

'I do not approve of murder,' said Hercule Poirot.

202

THE THIRD-FLOOR FLAT

'Bother? said Pat.

With a deepening frown she rummaged Wildly in the silken

trifle she called an evening bag. Two young men and another

girl watched her anxiously. They were all standing outside the

closed door of Patrica Gamett s fla.

'It's no good,' said Pat. 'It's not there. And now what shall

we do?'

'What is life without a latchley?' murmured Jimmy

Faulkener.

He was a shorh broad-shouldered young roan, with good-tempered

blue eyes.

Pat turned on him angrily. 'Don't make jokes, Jimmy. This

is serious.'

'Look again, Pat,' said Donovan Bailey. 'It must be there

somewhere.'

He had a lazy, pleasant voice that matched his lean, dark

figure.

'If you ever brought it out,' said the other girl, Mildred

Hope.

'Of course I brought it out,' said Pat. 'I believe I gave it to

one of you two.' She turned on the men aceusinly. 'I told

Donovan to take it for me.'

But she was not to find a scapegoat so easily. Donovan put in

a firm disclaimer, and liramy backed him up.

'I saw you put it in your bag, myself,' said Jimmy.

'Well, then, one of you dropped it out when you picked up

my bag. I've dropped it once or twice.'

'Once or twice? said Donovan. 'You've dropped it a dozen

times at least, besides leaving it behind on every possible

OCiOll?

'I can't see why everything on earth doesn't drop out of it the

whole time,' said Jimmy.

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and we shall smash endless crockery before I can get to the light

switch. Don't move about, Jimmy, till I get the light on.'

He felt his way cautiously over the floor, uttering one fervent

'Damn!' as a corner of the kitchen table took him unawares in

the ribs. He reached the switch, and in another moment

another 'Damn!' floated out of the darkness.

'What's the matter?' asked Jimmy.

'Light won't come on. Dud bulb, I suppose. Wait a minute.

I'll turn the sitting-room light on.'

The sitting-room was the door immediately across the

passage. Jimmy heard Donovan go out of the door, and

presently fresh muffled curses reached him. He himseffedged

his way cautiously across the kitchen.

'What's the matter?'

'I don't know. Rooms get bewitched at night, I believe.

Everything seems to be in a different place. Chairs and tbles

where you least expected them. Oh, hell! Here's nother!'

But at this moment Jimmy fortunately connected with ¢

electric-light switch and pressed it down. In another mix, ute