The Hollow

Grange stared.

"Well, if you'd done a murder, you'd want to plant it good and quick on someone else, wouldn't you? That would be a murderer's normal reaction."

"Ye-es," said Poirot. "But then perhaps we have here a rather unusual type of murderer.

It is possible that that is the solution of our problem."

"What is the solution?"

Poirot said thoughtfully:

"An unusual type of murderer."

Inspector Grange stared at him curiously.

He said:

"But then-what was the murderer's idea? What was he or she getting at?"

Poirot spread out his hands with a sigh.

"I have no idea-I have no idea at all. But it seems to me-dimly-"

"Yes?"

"That the murderer is someone who wanted to kill John Christow but who did not want to implicate Gerda Christow."

"Hm! Actually we suspected her right away."

"Ah, yes, but it was only a matter of time before the facts about the gun came to light, and that was bound to give a new angle. In the interval the murderer has had time-"

Poirot came to a full stop.

"Time to do what?"

"Ah, mon ami, there you have me. Again

I have to say I do not know."

Inspector Grange took a turn or two up and down the room. Then he stopped and came to a stand in front of Poirot.

"I've come to you this afternoon, M.

Poirot, for two reasons. One is because I know-it's pretty well known in the Force -that you're a man of wide experience who's done some very tricky work on this type of problem. That's reason Number One. But there's another reason. You were there. You were an eye-witness. You saw what happened."

Poirot nodded.

"Yes, I saw what happened-but the eyes, Inspector Grange, are very unreliable witnesses."

"What do you mean, M. Poirot?"

"The eyes see, sometimes, what they are meant to see."

"You think that it was planned out beforehand?"

"I suspect it. It was exactly, you understand, like a stage scene. What I saw was clear enough. A man who had just been shot and the woman who had shot him holding in her hand the gun she had just used. That is what I saw and already we know that in one particular the picture is wrong. That gun had not been used to shoot John Christow."

"Hm," the Inspector pulled his drooping moustache firmly downwards. "What you are getting at is that some of the other particulars of the picture may be wrong, too?"

Poirot nodded. He said:

"There were three other people present-three people who had apparently just arrived on the scene. But that may not be true either.

The pool is surrounded by a thick grove of young chestnuts. From the pool, five paths lead away: one to the house, one up to the woods, one up to the flower walk, one down from the pool to the farm, and one to the lane here.

"Of those three people, each one came along a different path, Edward Angkatell from the woods above. Lady Angkatell up from the farm, and Henrietta Savernake from the flower border above the house. Those three arrived upon the scene of the crime almost simultaneously, and a few minutes after Gerda Christow.

"But one of those three, Inspector, could have been at the pool before Gerda Christow, could have shot John Christow, and could have retreated up or down one of the paths and then, turning round, could have arrived at the same time as the others."

Inspector Grange said:

"Yes, it's possible."

"And another possibility, not envisaged at the time: someone could have come along the path from the lane, could have shot John Christow, and could have gone back the same way, unseen."

Grange said, "You're dead right. There are two other possible suspects besides Gerda Christow. We've got the same motive- jealousy-it's definitely a crime passionel- there were two other women mixed up with John Christow."

He paused and said:

"Christow went over to see Veronica Cray that morning. They had a row. She told him that she'd make him sorry for what he'd done and she said she hated him more than she believed she could hate anyone."

"Interesting," murmured Poirot.

"She's straight from Hollywood-and by what I read in the papers they do a bit of shooting each other out there sometimes.

She could have come along to get her furs which she'd left in the pavilion the night before. They could have met-the whole thing could have flared up-she fired at him-and then, hearing someone coming, she could have dodged back the way she came."

He paused a moment and added irritably:

"And now we come to the part where it all goes haywire. That damned gun! Unless," his eyes brightened, "she shot him with her own gun and dropped one that she'd pinched from Sir Henry's study so as to throw suspicion on the crowd at The Hollow.

She mightn't know about our being able to identify the gun used from the marks on the rifling."

"How many people do know that, I wonder?"

"I put the point to Sir Henry. He said he thought quite a lot of people would know-on account of all the detective stories that are written. Quoted a new one. The Clue of the Dripping Fountain, which he said John Christow himself had been reading on Saturday and which emphasized that particular point."