The Regatta Mystery and Other Stories

"On the contrary," he said. "It was murder. An unusual and a very cleverly planned murder."

Again he leaned forward, tapping the table, his eyes green and shining.

"Why did Mr. Farley not allow me to go into his own room that evening? What was there in there that I must not be allowed to see? I think,

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my friends, that there was--Benedict Farley himself!" He smiled at the blank faces.

"Yes, yes, it is not nonsense what I say. Why

could the Mr. Farley to whom I had been talking not realize the difference between two totally dissimilar letters? Because, roes amis, he was a man of normal sight wearing a pair of very powerful glasses. Thoseglasses would render a man of normal eyesight practically blind. Isn't that so, doctor?'' Stillingfleet murmured, "That's somof course." "Why did I feel that in talking to Mr. Farley I was talking to a mountebank, to an actor playing a part? Because he was playing a part! Consider the setting. The dim room, the green shaded light turned blindingly away from the figure in the chair. What did I seemthe famous patchwork dressing-gown, the beaked nose (faked with that useful substance, nose putty), the white crest of hair, the powerful lenses concealing the eyes. What evidence is there that Mr. Farley ever had a dream? Only the story I was told and the evidence of Mrs. Farley. What evidence is there that Benedict Farley kept a revolver in his desk? Again only the story told me and the word of Mrs. Farley. Two people carried this fraud throughJMrs. Farley and Hugo Cornworthy. Cornworthy wrote the letter to me, gave instructions to the butler, went out ostensibly to the cinema, but let himself in again immediately with a key, went to his room,

made himself up, and played the part of Benedict

Farley. I "And so we come to this afternoon. The oppor

176 Agatha Christie

tunity for which Mr. Cornworthy has been waiting arrives. There are two witnesses on the landing to swear that no one goes in or out of Benedict Farley's room. Cornworthy waits until a Particu-larly heavy batch of traffic is about to pass. Then he leans out of his window, and with the lazytongs which he has purloined from the desk next door he holds an. object against the window of that room. Benedict Farley comes to the window. Corn-worthy snatches back the tongs and as Farley leans out, and the lorries are passing outside, Corn-worthy shoots him with the revolver that he has ready. There is a blank wall opposite, remember. There can be no witness of the crime. Cornworthy waits for OVer half an hour, then gathers up some papers, conceals the lazytongs and the revolver

between thea and goes out on to the landing and

into the next room. He replaces the tongs on the desk, lays down the revolver after pressing the dead man's fingers on it, and hurries out with the news of Mr. Farley's 'suicide.'

"He arranges that the letter to me shall be found and that I shall arrive with my story--the story I hearl .from Mr. Farley's own lips--of his extraordinary 'dream'--the strange compulsion he felt to kill himself! A few credulous people will discuss the hypnotism theory--but the main result will be to confirm without a doubt that the actual hand that held the revolver was Benedict Farley's own."

Hercule Poirot's eyes went to the widow's face --the dismay--the ashy pallor--the blind fear.

"And in due course," he finished gently, "the happy ending would have been achieved. A

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quarter of a million and two hearts that beat as one .... "

John Stillingfleet, M.D., and Hercule Poirot walked along the side of Northway House. On their right was the towering wall of the factory. Above them, on their left, were the windows of Benedict Farley's and Hugo Cornworthy's rooms. Hercule Poirot stopped and picked up a small ob-ject--a black stuffed cat.

"Voild," he said. "That is what Cornworthy held in the lazytongs against Farley's window. You remember, he hated cats? Naturally he rushed to the window."

"Why on earth didn't Cornworthy come out and pick it up after he'd dropped it?"

"How could he? To do so would have been definitely suspicious. After all, if this object where found what would anyone think--that some child had wandered round here and dropped it."

"Yes," said Stillingfleet with a sigh. "That's

probably what the ordinary person would have thought. But not good old Hercule! D'you know, old horse, up to the very last minute I thought you were leading up to some subtle theory of highfalu-tin psychological 'suggested' murder? I bet those two thought so too! Nasty bit of goods, the Far-ley. Goodness, how she cracked! Cornworthy might have got away with it if she hadn't had hysterics and tried to spoil your beauty by going for you with her nails. I only got her off you just in 'time."

He paused a minute and then said:

"I rather like the girl. Grit, you know, and brains. I suppose I'd be thought to be a fortune

178 Agatha Christie

hunter if I had a shot at her... ?"

"You are too late, my friend. There is already