Lord Edgware Dies

‘I found a clue once,’ said Poirot dreamily. ‘But since it was four feet long instead of four centimetres no one would believe in it.’

I remembered the circumstance and laughed. Then I remembered my mission.

‘It’s all right, Poirot,’ I said. ‘I watched, but no one was spying upon you as far as I could see.’

‘The eyes of my friend Hastings,’ said Poirot in a kind of gentle mockery. ‘Tell me, my friend, did you notice the rose between my lips?’

‘The rose between your lips?’ I asked in astonishment. Japp turned aside spluttering with laughter.

‘You’ll be the death of me, M. Poirot,’ he said. ‘The death of me. A rose. What next?’

‘I had the fancy to pretend I was Carmen,’ said Poirot quite undisturbed.

I wondered if they were going mad or if I was.

‘You did not observe it, Hastings?’ There was reproach in Poirot’s voice.

‘No,’ I said, staring. ‘But then I couldn’t see your face.’

‘No matter.’ He shook his head gently.

Were they making fun of me?

‘Well,’ said Japp. ‘No more to do here, I fancy. I’d like to see the daughter again if I could. She was too upset before for me to get anything out of her.’

He rang the bell for the butler.

‘Ask Miss Marsh if I can see her for a few moments?’

The man departed. It was not he, however, but Miss Carroll who entered the room a few minutes later.

‘Geraldine is asleep,’ she said. ‘She’s had a terrible shock, poor child. After you left I gave her something to make her sleep and she’s fast asleep now. In an hour or two, perhaps.’

Japp agreed.

‘In any case there’s nothing she can tell you that I can’t,’ said Miss Carroll firmly.

‘What is your opinion of the butler?’ asked Poirot.

‘I don’t like him much and that’s a fact,’ replied Miss Carroll. ‘But I can’t tell you why.’

We had reached the front door.

‘It was up there that you stood, was it not, last night, Mademoiselle?’ said Poirot suddenly, pointing with his hands up the stairs.

‘Yes. Why?’

‘And you saw Lady Edgware go along the hall into the study?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you saw her face distinctly?’

‘Certainly.’

‘But you could not have seen her face, Mademoiselle. You can only have seen the back of her head from where you were standing.’

Miss Carroll flushed angrily. She seemed taken aback.

‘Back of her head, her voice, her walk! It’s all the same thing. Absolutely unmistakable! I tell you Iknow it was Jane Wilkinson-a thoroughly bad woman if there ever was one.’

And turning away she flounced upstairs.

Chapter 8. Possibilities

Japp had to leave us. Poirot and I turned into Regent’s Park and found a quiet seat.

‘I see the point of your rose between the lips now,’ I said, laughing. ‘At the moment I thought you had gone mad.’

He nodded without smiling.

‘You observe, Hastings, that the secretary is a dangerous witness, dangerous because inaccurate. You notice that she stated positively that she saw the visitor’sface? At the time I thought that impossible. Comingfrom the study-yes, but not goingto the study. So I made my little experiment which resulted asI thought, and then sprung my trap upon her. She immediately changed her ground.’

‘Her belief was quite unaltered, though,’ I argued. ‘And after all, a voice and a walk are just as unmistakable.’ 

‘No, no.’

‘Why, Poirot, I think a voice and the general gait are about the most characteristic things about a person.’

‘I agree. And therefore they are the most easily counterfeited.’

‘You think-’

‘Cast your mind back a few days. Do you remember one evening as we sat in the stalls of a theatre-’

‘Carlotta Adams? Ah! but then she is a genius.’

‘A well-known person is not so difficult to mimic. But I agree she has unusual gifts. I believe she could carry a thing through without the aid of footlights and distance-’

A sudden thought flashed into my mind.

‘Poirot,’ I cried. ‘You don’t think that possibly-no, that would be too much of a coincidence.’

‘It depends how you look at it, Hastings. Regarded from one angle it would be no coincidence at all.’

‘But why should Carlotta Adams wish to kill Lord Edgware? She did not even know him.’

‘How do you know she did not know him? Do not assume things, Hastings. There may have been some link between them of which we know nothing. Not that that is precisely my theory.’

‘Then you have a theory?’

‘Yes. The possibility of Carlotta Adams being involved struck me from the beginning.’ 

‘But, Poirot-’

‘Wait, Hastings. Let me put together a few facts for you. Lady Edgware, with a complete lack of reticence, discusses the relations between her and her husband, and even goes so far as to talk of killing him. Not only you and I hear this. A waiter hears it, her maid probably has heard it many times, Bryan Martin hears it, and I imagine Carlotta Adams herself hears it. And there are the people to whom these people repeat it. Then, in that same evening, the excellence of Carlotta Adams’ imitation of Jane is commented upon. Who had a motive for killing Lord Edgware? His wife.