The Regatta Mystery and Other Stories

Slowly, Poirot nodded his head.

"Yes, she is dead--la pauvre petite. And I sit-ting by her! Ah! but this time the murderer shall' not escape."

Barton Russell, his face gray, muttered:

"Just like Iris .... She saw something--Pauline saw something that night--Only she wasn't sure --she told me she wasn't sure .... We must get the

police .... Oh, God, little Pauline."

Poirot said:

"Where is her glass?" He raised it to his nose. "Yes, I can smell the cyanide. A smell of bitter almonds . . . the same method, the same poi-son .... "

He picked up her handbag. "Let us look in her handbag." Barton Russell cried out: "You don't believe this is suicide, too? Not on your life."

120 Agatha Christie

"Wait," Poirot commanded. "No, there is nothing here. The lights went up, you see, too quickly, the murderer had not time. Therefore,

the poison is still on him."

"Or her," said Carter.

He was looking at Lola Valdez.

She spat out:

"What do you mean--what do you say? That I killed her--eet is not true--not true--why should I do such a thing!"

"You had rather a fancy for Barton Russell

yourself in New York. That's the gossip I heard.

Argentine beauties are notoriously jealous."

"That ees a pack of lies. And I do not come from the Argentine. I come from Peru. Ah--I spit upon you. I--" She relapsed into Spanish.

"I demand silence," cried Poirot. "It is for me to speak."

Barton Russell said heavily:

' 'Everyone must be searched."

Poirot said calmly,

"Non, non, it is not necessary."

"What d'you mean, not necessary?"

"I, Hercule Poirot, know. I see with the eyes of the mind. And I will speak! M. Carter, will you show us the packet in your breast pocket?"

"There's nothing in my pocket. What the

hell--" "Tony, my good friend, if you will be so oblig-ing.''

Carter cried out:

"Damn you--"

Tony flipped the packet neatly out before Carter could defend himself.

YELLOW IRIS 121

"There you are, M. Poirot, just as you said!" "It's a damned lie," cried Carter.

Poirot picked up the packet, read the label. "Cyanide of potassium. The case is complete." Barton Russell's voice came thickly.

"Carter! I always thought so. Iris was in love with you. She wanted to go away with you. You didn't want a scandal for the sake of your precious

career so you poisoned her. You'll hang for this,

you dirty dog."

"Silence!" Poirot's voice rang out, firm and authoritative. "This is not finished yet. I, Hercule Poirot, have something to say. My friend here, Tony Chapell, he says to me when I arrive, that I have come in search of crime. That, it is partly true. There was crime in my mind--but it was to prevent a crime that I came. And I have prevented it. The murderer, he planned wellmbut Hercule Poirot he was one move ahead. He had to think fast, and to whisper quickly in Mademoiselle's ear when the lights went down. She is very quick and clever, Mademoiselle Pauline, .she played her part well. Mademoiselle, will you be so kind as to show us that you are not dead after all?"

Pauline sat up. She gave an unsteady laugh. "Resurrection of Pauline," she said. "Pauline-- darling." "Tony!" "My sweet." "Angel."

Barton Russell gasped.

"I--I don't understand .... "

"I will help you to understand, Mr. Barton Russell. Your plan has miscarried."

122 Agatha Christie

"My plan?"

"Yes, your plan. Who was the only man who had an alibi during the darkness. The man who left the table--you, Mr. Barton Russell. But you returned to it under cover of the darkness, circling round it, with a champagne bottle, filling up glasses, putting cyanide in Pauline's glass and dropping the half empty packet in Carter's pocket as you bent over him to remove a glass. Oh, yes, it is easy to play the part of a waiter in darkness when the attention of everyone is elsewhere. That was the real reason for your party tonight. The safest place to commit a murder is in the middle of a crowd."

"What the--why the hell should I want to kill Pauline?"

"It might be, perhaps, a question of money. Your wife left you guardian to her sister. You mentioned that fact tonight. Pauline is twenty. At twenty-one or on her marriage you would have to render an account of your stewardship. I suggest that you could not do that. You have specu-lated with it. I do not know, Mr. Barton Russell, whether you killed your wife in the same way, or whether her suicide suggested the idea of this crime to you, but I do know that tonight you have been guilty of attempted murder. It rests with Miss Pauline whether you are prosecuted for that."

"No," said Pauline. "He can get out of my sight and out of this country: I don't want a scandal."

"You had better go quickly, Mr. Barton Russell, and I advise you to be careful in future."

Barton Russell got up, his face working. YELLOW IRIS 123

"To hell with you, you interfering little Belgian jackanapes."

He strode out angrily.

Pauline sighed.

"M. Poirot, you've been wonderful .... " "You, Mademoiselle, you have been the mar-velous one. To pour away the champagne, to act the dead body so prettily."