I
On the following day Hercule Poirot spent some hours with a theatrical1 agent of his acquaintance.
In the afternoon he went to Oxford2. On the day after that he drove down to the country—it was
late when he returned.
He had telephoned before he left to make an appointment with Mr. Alistair Blunt for that same
evening.
It was half past nine when he reached the Gothic House.
Alistair Blunt was alone in his library when Poirot was shown in.
He looked an eager question at his visitor as he shook hands.
He said:
“Well?”
Slowly, Hercule Poirot nodded his head.
Blunt looked at him in almost incredulous appreciation4.
“Have you found her?”
“Yes. Yes, I have found her.”
He sat down. And he sighed.
Alistair Blunt said:
“You are tired?”
“Yes. I am tired. And it is not pretty—what I have to tell you.”
Blunt said:
“Is she dead?”
“That depends,” said Hercule Poirot slowly, “on how you like to look at it.”
Blunt frowned.
He said:
“My dear man, a person must be dead or alive. Miss Sainsbury Seale must be one or the other!”
“Ah, but who is Miss Sainsbury Seale?”
Alistair Blunt said:
“You don’t mean that—that there isn’t any such person?”
“Oh no, no. There was such a person. She lived in Calcutta. She taught elocution. She busied
herself with good works. She came to England in the Maharanah—the same boat in which Mr.
Amberiotis travelled. Although they were not in the same class, he helped her over something—
some fuss about her luggage. He was, it would seem, a kindly5 man in little ways. And sometimes,
M. Blunt, kindness is repaid in an unexpected fashion. It was so, you know, with M. Amberiotis.
He chanced to meet the lady again in the streets of London. He was feeling expansive, he good-
naturedly invited her to lunch with him at the Savoy. An unexpected treat for her. And an
unexpected windfall for M. Amberiotis! For his kindness was not premeditated—he had no idea
that this faded, middle-aged6 lady was going to present him with the equivalent of a gold mine. But
nevertheless, that is what she did, though she never suspected the fact herself.
“She was never, you see, of the first order of intelligence. A good, well-meaning soul, but the
brain, I should say, of a hen.”
Blunt said:
“Then it wasn’t she who killed the Chapman woman?”
Poirot said slowly:
“It is difficult to know just how to present the matter. I shall begin, I think, where the matter
began for me. With a shoe!”
Blunt said blankly:
“With a shoe?”
Hercule Poirot nodded.
“Yes, a buckled7 shoe. I came out from my séance at the dentist’s and as I stood on the steps of
58, Queen Charlotte Street, a taxi stopped outside, the door opened and a woman’s foot prepared
to descend9. I am a man who notices a woman’s foot and ankle. It was a well-shaped foot, with a
good ankle and an expensive stocking, but I did not like the shoe. It was a new, shining patent
leather shoe with a large ornate buckle8. Not chic10—not at all chic!
“And whilst I was observing this, the rest of the lady came into sight—and frankly11 it was a
disappointment—a middle-aged lady without charm and badly dressed.”
“Miss Sainsbury Seale?”
“Precisely. As she descended12 a contretemps occurred—she caught the buckle of her shoe in the
door and it was wrenched13 off. I picked it up and returned it to her. That was all. The incident was
closed.
“Later, on that same day, I went with Chief Inspector14 Japp to interview the lady. (She had not as
yet sewn on the buckle, by the way.)
“On that same evening, Miss Sainsbury Seale walked out of her hotel and vanished. That, shall
we say, is the end of Part One.
“Part Two began when Chief Inspector Japp summoned me to King Leopold Mansions15. There
was a fur chest in a flat there, and in that fur chest there had been found a body. I went into the
room, I walked up to the chest—and the first thing I saw was a shabby buckled shoe!”
“Well?”
“You have not appreciated the point. It was a shabby shoe—a well-worn shoe. But you see,
Miss Sainsbury Seale had come to King Leopold Mansions on the evening of that same day—the
day of Mr. Morley’s murder. In the morning the shoes were new shoes—in the evening they were
old shoes. One does not wear out a pair of shoes in a day, you comprehend.”
Alistair Blunt said without much interest:
“She could have two pairs of shoes, I suppose?”
“Ah, but that was not so. For Japp and I had gone up to her room at the Glengowrie Court and
had looked at all her possessions—and there was no pair of buckled shoes there. She might have
had an old pair of shoes, yes. She might have changed into them after a tiring day to go out in the
evening, yes? But if so, the other pair would have been at the hotel. It was curious, you will
admit?”
“I can’t see that it is important.”
“No, not important. Not at all important. But one does not like things that one cannot explain. I
stood by the fur chest and I looked at the shoe—the buckle had recently been sewn on by hand. I
will confess that I then had a moment of doubt—of myself. Yes, I said to myself, Hercule Poirot,
you were a little light-headed perhaps this morning. You saw the world through rosy17 spectacles.
Even the old shoes looked like new ones to you?”
“Perhaps that was the explanation?”
“But no, it was not. My eyes do not deceive me! To continue, I studied the dead body of this
woman and I did not like what I saw. Why had the face been wantonly, deliberately18 smashed and
rendered unrecognizable?”
Alistair Blunt moved restlessly. He said:
“Must we go over that again? We know—”
Hercule Poirot said firmly:
“It is necessary. I have to take you over the steps that led me at last to the truth. I said to myself:
‘Something is wrong here. Here is a dead woman in the clothes of Miss Sainsbury Seale (except,
perhaps, the shoes?) and with the handbag of Miss Sainsbury Seale — but why is her face
unrecognizable? Is it, perhaps, because the face is not the face of Miss Sainsbury Seale?’ And
immediately I begin to put together what I have heard of the appearance of the other woman—the
woman to whom the flat belongs, and I ask myself—Might it not perhaps be this other woman
who lies dead here? I go then and look at the other woman’s bedroom. I try to picture to myself
what sort of woman she is. In superficial appearance, very different to the other. Smart, showily
dressed, very much made up. But in essentials, not unlike. Hair, build, age … But there is one
difference. Mrs. Albert Chapman took a five in shoes. Miss Sainsbury Seale, I knew, took a 10-
inch stocking—that is to say she would take at least a 6 in shoes. Mrs. Chapman, then, had smaller
feet than Miss Sainsbury Seale. I went back to the body. If my half-formed idea was right, and the
body was that of Mrs. Chapman wearing Miss Sainsbury Seale’s clothes, then the shoes should be
too big. I took hold of one. But it was not loose. It fitted tightly. That looked as though it were the
body of Miss Sainsbury Seale after all! But in that case, why was the face disfigured? Her identity
was already proved by the handbag, which could easily have been removed, but which had not
been removed.
“It was a puzzle—a tangle19. In desperation I seized on Mrs. Chapman’s address book—a dentist
was the only person who could prove definitely who the dead woman was—or was not. By
coincidence, Mrs. Chapman’s dentist was Mr. Morley. Morley was dead, but identification was
still possible. You know the result. The body was identified in the Coroner’s Court by Mr.
Morley’s successor as that of Mrs. Albert Chapman.”
Blunt was fidgeting with some impatience20, but Poirot took no notice. He went on:
“I was left now with a psychological problem. What sort of a woman was Mabelle Sainsbury
Seale? There were two answers to that question. The first was the obvious one borne out by her
whole life in India and by the testimony21 of her personal friends. That depicted22 her as an earnest,
conscientious23, slightly stupid woman. Was there another Miss Sainsbury Seale? Apparently24 there
was. There was a woman who had lunched with a well-known foreign agent, who had accosted25
you in the street and claimed to be a close friend of your wife’s (a statement that was almost
certainly untrue), a woman who had left a man’s house very shortly before a murder had been
committed, a woman who had visited another woman on the evening when in all probability that
other woman had been murdered, and who had since disappeared although she must be aware that
the police force of England was looking for her. Were all these actions compatible with the
character which her friends gave her? It would seem that they were not. Therefore, if Miss
Sainsbury Seale were not the good, amiable26 creature she seemed, then it would appear that she
was quite possibly a cold-blooded murderess or almost certainly an accomplice27 after the fact.
“I had one more criterion—my own personal impression. I had talked to Mabelle Sainsbury
Seale myself. How had she struck me? And that, M. Blunt, was the most difficult question to
answer of all. Everything that she said, her way of talking, her manner, her gestures, all were
perfectly28 in accord with her given character. But they were equally in accord with a clever actress
playing a part. And, after all, Mabelle Sainsbury Seale had started life as an actress.
“I had been much impressed by a conversation I had had with Mr. Barnes of Ealing who had
also been a patient at 58, Queen Charlotte Street on that particular day. His theory, expressed very
forcibly, was that the deaths of Morley and of Amberiotis were only incidental, so to speak—that
the intended victim was you.”
Alistair Blunt said:
“Oh, come now—that’s a bit far-fetched.”
“Is it, M. Blunt? Is it not true that at this moment there are various groups of people to whom it
is vital that you should be—removed, shall we say? Shall be no longer capable of exerting your
influence?”
Blunt said:
“Oh yes, that’s true enough. But why mix up this business of Morley’s death with that?”
Poirot said:
“Because there is a certain—how shall I put it?—lavishness about the case—Expense is no
object—human life is no object. Yes, there is a recklessness, a lavishness—that points to a big
crime!”
“You don’t think Morley shot himself because of a mistake?”
“I never thought so—not for a minute. No, Morley was murdered, Amberiotis was murdered, an
unrecognizable woman was murdered — Why? For some big stake. Barnes’ theory was that
somebody had tried to bribe29 Morley or his partner to put you out of the way.”
Alistair Blunt said sharply:
“Nonsense!”
“Ah, but is it nonsense? Say one wishes to put someone out of the way. Yes, but that someone is
forewarned, forearmed, difficult of access. To kill that person it is necessary to be able to approach
him without awakening30 his suspicions—and where would a man be less suspicious than in a
dentist’s chair?”
“Well, that’s true, I suppose. I never thought of it like that.”
“It is true. And once I realized it I had my first vague glimmering31 of the truth.”
“So you accepted Barnes’ theory? Who is Barnes, by the way?”
“Barnes was Reilly’s twelve o’clock patient. He is retired32 from the Home Office and lives in
Ealing. An insignificant33 little man. But you are wrong when you say I accepted his theory. I did
not. I only accepted the principle of it.”
“What do you mean?”
Hercule Poirot said:
“All along, all the way through, I have been led astray—sometimes unwittingly, sometimes
deliberately and for a purpose. All along it was presented to me, forced upon me, that this was
what you might call a public crime. That is to say, that you, M. Blunt, were the focus of it all, in
your public character. You, the banker, you the controller of finance, you, the upholder of
conservative tradition!
“But every public character has a private life also. That was my mistake, I forgot the private
life. There existed private reasons for killing34 Morley—Frank Carter’s for instance.
“There could also exist private reasons for killing you … You had relations who would inherit
money when you died. You had people who loved and hated you—as a man—not as a public
figure.
“And so I came to the supreme35 instance of what I call ‘the forced card.’ The purported36 attack
upon you by Frank Carter. If that attack was genuine—then it was a political crime. But was there
any other explanation? There could be. There was a second man in the shrubbery. The man who
rushed up and seized Carter. A man who could easily have fired that shot and then tossed the pistol
to Carter’s feet so that the latter would almost inevitably37 pick it up and be found with it in his
hand….
“I considered the problem of Howard Raikes. Raikes had been at Queen Charlotte Street that
morning of Morley’s death. Raikes was a bitter enemy of all that you stood for and were. Yes, but
Raikes was something more. Raikes was the man who might marry your niece, and with you dead,
your niece would inherit a very handsome income, even though you had prudently38 arranged that
she could not touch the principal.
“Was the whole thing, after all, a private crime — a crime for private gain, for private
satisfaction? Why had I thought it a public crime? Because, not once, but many times, that idea
had been suggested to me, had been forced upon me like a forced card. …
“It was then, when that idea occurred to me, that I had my first glimmering of the truth. I was in
church at the time and singing a verse of a psalm39. It spoke40 of a snare41 laid with cords….
“A snare? Laid for me? Yes, it could be … But in that case who had laid it? There was only one
person who could have laid it … And that did not make sense—or did it? Had I been looking at
the case upside down? Money no object? Exactly! Reckless disregard of human life? Yes again.
For the stakes for which the guilty person was playing were enormous. …
“But if this new, strange idea of mine were right, it must explain everything. It must explain, for
instance, the mystery of the dual42 nature of Miss Sainsbury Seale. It must solve the riddle43 of the
buckled shoe. And it must answer the question: Where is Miss Sainsbury Seale now?
“Eh bien—it did all that and more. It showed me that Miss Sainsbury Seale was the beginning
and middle and end of the case. No wonder it had seemed to me that there were two Mabelle
Sainsbury Seales. There were two Mabelle Sainsbury Seales. There was the good, stupid, amiable
woman who was vouched44 for so confidently by her friends. And there was the other—the woman
who was mixed-up with two murders and who told lies and who vanished mysteriously.
“Remember, the porter at King Leopold Mansions said that Miss Sainsbury Seale had been
there once before….
“In my reconstruction45 of the case, that first time was the only time. She never left King Leopold
Mansions. The other Miss Sainsbury Seale took her place. That other Mabelle Sainsbury Seale,
dressed in clothes of the same type and wearing a new pair of shoes with buckles46 because the
others were too large for her, went to the Russell Square Hotel at a busy time of day, packed up
the dead woman’s clothes, paid the bill and left. She went to the Glengowrie Court Hotel. None of
the real Miss Sainsbury Seale’s friends saw her after that time, remember. She played the part of
Mabelle Sainsbury Seale there for over a week. She wore Mabelle Sainsbury Seale’s clothes, she
talked in Mabelle Sainsbury Seale’s voice, but she had to buy a smaller pair of evening shoes, too.
And then—she vanished, her last appearance being when she was seen reentering King Leopold
Mansions on the evening of the day Morley was killed.”
“Are you trying to say,” demanded Alistair Blunt, “that it was Mabelle Sainsbury Seale’s dead
body in that flat, after all.”
“Of course it was! It was a very clever double bluff—the smashed face was meant to raise a
question of the woman’s identity!”
“But the dental evidence?”
“Ah! Now we come to it. It was not the dentist himself who gave evidence. Morley was dead.
He couldn’t give evidence as to his own work. He would have known who the dead woman was. It
was the charts that were put in as evidence—and the charts were faked. Both women were his
patients, remember. All that had to be done was to relabel the charts, exchanging the names.”
Hercule Poirot added:
“And now you see what I meant when you asked me if the woman was dead and I replied, ‘That
depends.’ For when you say ‘Miss Sainsbury Seale’—which woman do you mean? The woman
who disappeared from the Glengowrie Court Hotel or the real Mabelle Sainsbury Seale.”
Alistair Blunt said:
“I know, M. Poirot, that you have a great reputation. Therefore I accept that you must have
some grounds for this extraordinary assumption—for it is an assumption, nothing more. But all I
can see is the fantastic improbability of the whole thing. You are saying, are you not, that Mabelle
Sainsbury Seale was deliberately murdered and that Morley was also murdered to prevent his
identifying her dead body. But why? That’s what I want to know. Here’s this woman—a perfectly
harmless, middle-aged woman—with plenty of friends and apparently no enemies. Why on earth
all this elaborate plot to get rid of her?”
“Why? Yes, that is the question. Why? As you say, Mabelle Sainsbury Seale was a perfectly
harmless creature who wouldn’t hurt a fly! Why, then, was she deliberately and brutally47
murdered? Well, I will tell you what I think.”
“Yes?”
Hercule Poirot leaned forward. He said:
“It is my belief that Mabelle Sainsbury Seale was murdered because she happened to have too
good a memory for faces.”
“What do you mean?”
Hercule Poirot said:
“We have separated the dual personality. There is the harmless lady from India. But there is one
incident that falls between the two roles. Which Miss Sainsbury Seale was it who spoke to you on
the doorstep of Mr. Morley’s house? She claimed, you will remember, to be ‘a great friend of your
wife’s.’ Now that claim was adjudged by her friends and by the light of ordinary probability to be
untrue. So we can say: ‘That was a lie. The real Miss Sainsbury Seale does not tell lies.’ So it was
a lie uttered by the impostor for a purpose of her own.”
Alistair Blunt nodded.
“Yes, that reasoning is quite clear. Though I still don’t know what the purpose was.”
Poirot said:
“Ah, pardon—but let us first look at it the other way round. It was the real Miss Sainsbury
Seale. She does not tell lies. So the story must be true.”
“I suppose you can look at it that way—but it seems very unlikely—”
“Of course it is unlikely! But taking that second hypothesis as fact—the story is true. Therefore
Miss Sainsbury Seale did know your wife. She knew her well. Therefore—your wife must have
been the type of person Miss Sainsbury Seale would have known well. Someone in her own station
of life. An Anglo-Indian—a missionary—or, to go back farther still—an actress—Therefore—not
Rebecca Arnholt!
“Now, M. Blunt, do you see what I meant when I talked of a private and a public life? You are
the great banker. But you are also a man who married a rich wife. And before you married her you
were only a junior partner in the firm—not very long down from Oxford.
“You comprehend—I began to look at the case the right way up. Expense no object? Naturally
not—to you. Reckless of human life—that, too, since for a long time you have been virtually a
dictator and to a dictator his own life becomes unduly48 important and those of others unimportant.”
Alistair Blunt said:
“What are you suggesting, M. Poirot?”
Poirot said quietly:
“I am suggesting, M. Blunt, that when you married Rebecca Arnholt, you were married already.
That, dazzled by the vista49, not so much of wealth, as of power, you suppressed that fact and
deliberately committed bigamy. That your real wife acquiesced50 in the situation.”
“And who was this real wife?”
“Mrs. Albert Chapman was the name she went under at King Leopold Mansions—a handy spot,
not five minutes’ walk from your house on the Chelsea Embankment. You borrowed the name of a
real secret agent, realizing that it would give support to her hints of a husband engaged in
intelligence work. Your scheme succeeded perfectly. No suspicion was ever aroused.
Nevertheless, the fact remained, you had never been legally married to Rebecca Arnholt and you
were guilty of bigamy. You never dreamt of danger after so many years. It came out of the blue—
in the form of a tiresome51 woman who remembered you after nearly twenty years, as her friend’s
husband. Chance brought her back to this country, chance let her meet you in Queen Charlotte
Street—it was chance that your niece was with you and heard what she said to you. Otherwise I
might never have guessed.”
“I told you about that myself, my dear Poirot.”
“No, it was your niece who insisted on telling me and you could not very well protest too
violently in case it might arouse suspicions. And after that meeting, one more evil chance (from
your point of view) occurred. Mabelle Sainsbury Seale met Amberiotis, went to lunch with him
and babbled52 to him of this meeting with a friend’s husband—‘after all these years!’—‘Looked
older, of course, but had hardly changed!’ That, I admit, is pure guesswork on my part but I
believe it is what happened. I do not think that Mabelle Sainsbury Seale realized for a moment that
the Mr. Blunt her friend had married was the shadowy figure behind the finance of the world. The
name, after all, is not an uncommon53 one. But Amberiotis, remember, in addition to his espionage54
activities, was a blackmailer55. Blackmailers have an uncanny nose for a secret. Amberiotis
wondered. Easy to find out just who the Mr. Blunt was. And then, I have no doubt, he wrote to you
or telephoned … Oh, yes—a gold mine for Amberiotis.”
Poirot paused. He went on:
“There is only one effectual method of dealing56 with a really efficient and experienced
blackmailer. Silence him.
“It was not a case, as I had had erroneously suggested to me, of ‘Blunt must go.’ It was, on the
contrary, ‘Amberiotis must go.’ But the answer was the same! The easiest way to get at a man is
when he is off his guard, and when is a man more off his guard than in the dentist’s chair?”
Poirot paused again. A faint smile came to his lips. He said:
“The truth about the case was mentioned very early. The page boy, Alfred, was reading a crime
story called Death at Eleven Forty-Five. We should have taken that as an omen16. For, of course,
that is just about the time when Morley was killed. You shot him just as you were leaving. Then
you pressed his buzzer57, turned on the taps of the wash basin and left the room. You timed it so that
you came down the stairs just as Alfred was taking the false Mabelle Sainsbury Seale to the lift.
You actually opened the front door, perhaps you passed out, but as the lift doors shut and the lift
went up you slipped inside again and went up the stairs.
“I know, from my own visits, just what Alfred did when he took up a patient. He knocked on
the door, opened it, and stood back to let the patient pass in. Inside the water was running—
inference, Morley was washing his hands as usual. But Alfred couldn’t actually see him.
“As soon as Alfred had gone down again in the lift, you slipped along into the surgery. Together
you and your accomplice lifted the body and carried it into the adjoining office. Then a quick hunt
through the files, and the charts of Mrs. Chapman and Miss Sainsbury Seale were cleverly
falsified. You put on a white linen58 coat, perhaps your wife applied59 a trace of makeup60. But nothing
much was needed. It was Amberiotis’ first visit to Morley. He had never met you. And your
photograph seldom appears in the papers. Besides, why should he have suspicions? A blackmailer
does not fear his dentist. Miss Sainsbury Seale goes down and Alfred shows her out. The buzzer
goes and Amberiotis is taken up. He finds the dentist washing his hands behind the door in
approved fashion. He is conducted to the chair. He indicates the painful tooth. You talk the
accustomed patter. You explain it will be best to freeze the gum. The procaine and adrenalin are
there. You inject a big enough dose to kill. And incidentally he will not feel any lack of skill in
your dentistry!
“Completely unsuspicious, Amberiotis leaves. You bring out Morley’s body and arrange it on
the floor, dragging it slightly on the carpet now that you have to manage it single-handed. You
wipe the pistol and put it in his hand—wipe the door handle so that your prints shall not be the
last. The instruments you used have all been passed into the sterilizer61. You leave the room, go
down the stairs and slip out of the front door at a suitable moment. That is your only moment of
danger.
“It should all have passed off so well! Two people who threatened your safety—both dead. A
third person also dead—but that, from your point of view, was unavoidable. And all so easily
explained. Morley’s suicide explained by the mistake he had made over Amberiotis. The two
deaths cancel out. One of these regrettable accidents.
“But alas62 for you, I am on the scene. I have doubts. I make objections. All is not going as easily
as you hoped. So there must be a second line of defences. There must be, if necessary, a
scapegoat63. You have already informed yourself minutely, of Morley’s household. There is this
man, Frank Carter, he will do. So your accomplice arranges that he shall be engaged in a
mysterious fashion as gardener. If, later, he tells such a ridiculous story no one will believe it. In
due course, the body in the fur chest will come to light. At first it will be thought to be that of Miss
Sainsbury Seale, then the dental evidence will be taken. Big sensation! It may seem a needless
complication, but it was necessary. You do not want the police force of England to be looking for
a missing Mrs. Albert Chapman. No, let Mrs. Chapman be dead—and let it be Mabelle Sainsbury
Seale for whom the police look. Since they can never find her. Besides, through your influence,
you can arrange to have the case dropped.
“You did do that, but since it was necessary that you should know just what I was doing, you
sent for me and urged me to find the missing woman for you. And you continued, steadily64, to
‘force a card’ upon me. Your accomplice rang me up with a melodramatic warning—the same
idea—espionage—the public aspect. She is a clever actress, this wife of yours, but to disguise
one’s voice the natural tendency is to imitate another voice. Your wife imitated the intonation65 of
Mrs. Olivera. That puzzled me, I may say, a good deal.
“Then I was taken down to Exsham—the final performance was staged. How easy to arrange a
loaded pistol amongst laurels66 so that a man, clipping them, shall unwittingly cause it to go off. The
pistol falls at his feet. Startled, he picks it up. What more do you want? He is caught red-handed—
with a ridiculous story and with a pistol which is a twin to the one with which Morley was shot.
“And all a snare for the feet of Hercule Poirot.”
Alistair Blunt stirred a little in his chair. His face was grave and a little sad. He said:
“Don’t misunderstand me, M. Poirot. How much do you guess? And how much do you actually
know?”
Poirot said:
“I have a certificate of the marriage—at a registry office near Oxford—of Martin Alistair Blunt
and Gerda Grant. Frank Carter saw two men leave Morley’s surgery just after twenty-five past
twelve. The first was a fat man—Amberiotis. The second was, of course, you. Frank Carter did not
recognize you. He only saw you from above.”
“How fair of you to mention that!”
“He went into the surgery and found Morley’s body. The hands were cold and there was dried
blood round the wound. That meant that Morley had been dead some time. Therefore the dentist
who attended to Amberiotis could not have been Morley and must have been Morley’s murderer.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. Helen Montressor was arrested this afternoon.”
Alistair Blunt gave one sharp movement. Then he sat very still. He said:
“That—rather tears it.”
Hercule Poirot said:
“Yes. The real Helen Montressor, your distant cousin, died in Canada seven years ago. You
suppressed that fact, and took advantage of it.”
A smile came to Alistair Blunt’s lips. He spoke naturally and with a kind of boyish enjoyment67.
“Gerda got a kick out of it all, you know. I’d like to make you understand. You’re such a clever
fellow. I married her without letting my people know. She was acting68 in repertory at the time. My
people were the straitlaced kind, and I was going into the firm. We agreed to keep it dark. She
went on acting. Mabelle Sainsbury Seale was in the company too. She knew about us. Then she
went abroad with a touring company. Gerda heard of her once or twice from India. Then she
stopped writing. Mabelle got mixed up with some Hindu. She was always a stupid, credulous3 girl.
“I wish I could make you understand about my meeting with Rebecca and my marriage. Gerda
understood. The only way I can put it is that it was like Royalty69. I had the chance of marrying a
Queen and playing the part of Prince Consort70 or even King. I looked on my marriage to Gerda as
morganatic. I loved her. I didn’t want to get rid of her. And the whole thing worked splendidly. I
liked Rebecca immensely. She was a woman with a first-class financial brain and mine was just as
good. We were good at team work. It was supremely71 exciting. She was an excellent companion
and I think I made her happy. I was genuinely sorry when she died. The queer thing was that
Gerda and I grew to enjoy the secret thrill of our meetings. We had all sorts of ingenious devices.
She was an actress by nature. She had a repertoire72 of seven or eight characters—Mrs. Albert
Chapman was only one of them. She was an American widow in Paris. I met her there when I
went over on business. And she used to go to Norway with painting things as an artist. I went there
for the fishing. And then, later, I passed her off as my cousin. Helen Montressor. It was great fun
for us both, and it kept romance alive, I suppose. We could have married officially after Rebecca
died—but we didn’t want to. Gerda would have found it hard to live my official life and, of course,
something from the past might have been raked up, but I think the real reason we went on more or
less the same was that we enjoyed the secrecy73 of it. We should have found open domesticity dull.”
Blunt paused. He said, and his voice changed and hardened:
“And then that damned fool of a woman messed up everything. Recognizing me—after all those
years! And she told Amberiotis. You see—you must see—that something had to be done! It wasn’t
only myself—not only the selfish point of view. If I was ruined and disgraced—the country, my
country was hit as well. For I’ve done something for England, M. Poirot. I’ve held it firm and kept
it solvent74. It’s free from Dictators—from Fascism and from Communism. I don’t really care for
money as money. I do like power — I like to rule — but I don’t want to tyrannize. We are
democratic in England—truly democratic. We can grumble75 and say what we think and laugh at
our politicians. We’re free. I care for all that—it’s been my lifework. But if I went—well, you
know what would probably happen. I’m needed, M. Poirot. And a damned double- crossing,
blackmailing76 rogue77 of a Greek was going to destroy my life work. Something had to be done.
Gerda saw it, too. We were sorry about the Sainsbury Seale woman—but it was no good. We’d
got to silence her. She couldn’t be trusted to hold her tongue. Gerda went to see her, asked her to
tea, told her to ask for Mrs. Chapman, said she was staying in Mr. Chapman’s flat. Mabelle
Sainsbury Seale came, quite unsuspecting. She never knew anything—the medinal was in the tea
—it’s quite painless. You just sleep and don’t wake up. The face business was done afterwards—
rather sickening, but we felt it was necessary. Mrs. Chapman was to exit for good. I had given my
‘cousin’ Helen a cottage to live in. We decided78 that after a while we would get married. But first
we had to get Amberiotis out of the way. It worked beautifully. He hadn’t a suspicion that I wasn’t
a real dentist. I did my stuff with the hand pricks79 rather well. I didn’t risk the drill. Of course, after
the injection he couldn’t feel what I was doing. Probably just as well!”
Poirot asked:
“The pistols?”
“Actually they belonged to a secretary I once had in America. He bought them abroad
somewhere. When he left he forgot to take them.”
There was a pause. Then Alistair Blunt asked:
“Is there anything else you want to know?”
Hercule Poirot said:
“What about Morley?”
Alistair Blunt said simply:
“I was sorry about Morley.”
Hercule Poirot said:
“Yes, I see….”
There was a long pause, then Blunt said:
“Well, M. Poirot, what about it?”
Poirot said:
“Helen Montressor is arrested already.”
“And now it’s my turn?”
“That was my meaning, yes.”
Blunt said gently:
“But you are not happy about it, eh?”
“No, I am not at all happy.”
Alistair Blunt said:
“I’ve killed three people. So presumably I ought to be hanged. But you’ve heard my defence.”
“Which is—exactly?”
“That I believe, with all my heart and soul, that I am necessary to the continued peace and well-
being of this country.”
Hercule Poirot allowed:
“That may be—yes.”
“You agree, don’t you?”
“I agree, yes. You stand for all the things that to my mind are important. For sanity80 and balance
and stability and honest dealing.”
Alistair Blunt said quietly:
“Thanks.”
He added:
“Well, what about it?”
“You suggest that I—retire from the case?”
“Yes.”
“And your wife?”
“I’ve got a good deal of pull. Mistaken identity, that’s the line to take.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then,” said Alistair Blunt simply, “I’m for it.”
He went on:
“It’s in your hands, Poirot. It’s up to you. But I tell you this—and it’s not just self-preservation
—I’m needed in the world. And do you know why? Because I’m an honest man. And because I’ve
got common sense—and no particular axe81 of my own to grind.”
Poirot nodded. Strangely enough, he believed all that.
He said:
“Yes, that is one side. You are the right man in the right place. You have sanity, judgement,
balance. But there is the other side. Three human beings who are dead.”
“Yes, but think of them! Mabelle Sainsbury Seale—you said yourself—a woman with the
brains of a hen! Amberiotis—a crook82 and a blackmailer!”
“And Morley?”
“I’ve told you before. I’m sorry about Morley. But after all—he was a decent fellow and a good
dentist—but there are other dentists.”
“Yes,” said Poirot, “there are other dentists. And Frank Carter? You would have let him die,
too, without regret?”
Blunt said:
“I don’t waste any pity on him. He’s no good. An utter rotter.”
Poirot said:
“But a human being….”
“Oh well, we’re all human beings….”
“Yes, we are all human beings. That is what you have not remembered. You have said that
Mabelle Sainsbury Seale was a foolish human being and Amberiotis an evil one, and Frank Carter
a wastrel—and Morley—Morley was only a dentist and there are other dentists. That is where you
and I, M. Blunt, do not see alike. For to me the lives of those four people are just as important as
your life.”
“You’re wrong.”
“No, I am not wrong. You are a man of great natural honesty and rectitude. You took one step
aside—and outwardly it has not affected83 you. Publicly you have continued the same, upright,
trustworthy, honest. But within you the love of power grew to over-whelming heights. So you
sacrificed four human lives and thought them of no account.”
“Don’t you realize, Poirot, that the safety and happiness of the whole nation depends on me?”
“I am not concerned with nations, Monsieur. I am concerned with the lives of private
individuals who have the right not to have their lives taken from them.”
He got up.
“So that’s your answer,” said Alistair Blunt.
Hercule Poirot said in a tired voice:
“Yes—that is my answer….”
He went to the door and opened it. Two men came in.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
theatrical
|
|
| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
Oxford
|
|
| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
credulous
|
|
| adj.轻信的，易信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
appreciation
|
|
| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
buckled
|
|
| a. 有带扣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
buckle
|
|
| n.扣子，带扣；v.把...扣住，由于压力而弯曲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
descend
|
|
| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
chic
|
|
| n./adj.别致(的)，时髦(的)，讲究的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
wrenched
|
|
| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
inspector
|
|
| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
mansions
|
|
| n.宅第，公馆，大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
omen
|
|
| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
rosy
|
|
| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
deliberately
|
|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
tangle
|
|
| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
testimony
|
|
| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
depicted
|
|
| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
conscientious
|
|
| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
accosted
|
|
| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
accomplice
|
|
| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
bribe
|
|
| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
awakening
|
|
| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
glimmering
|
|
| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
insignificant
|
|
| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
killing
|
|
| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
supreme
|
|
| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
purported
|
|
| adj.传说的，谣传的v.声称是…，（装得）像是…的样子( purport的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
inevitably
|
|
| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
prudently
|
|
| adv. 谨慎地，慎重地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
psalm
|
|
| n.赞美诗，圣诗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
snare
|
|
| n.陷阱，诱惑，圈套；（去除息肉或者肿瘤的）勒除器；响弦，小军鼓；vt.以陷阱捕获，诱惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
dual
|
|
| adj.双的；二重的，二元的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
riddle
|
|
| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
vouched
|
|
| v.保证( vouch的过去式和过去分词 )；担保；确定；确定地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
reconstruction
|
|
| n.重建，再现，复原 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
buckles
|
|
| 搭扣，扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
brutally
|
|
| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
unduly
|
|
| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
vista
|
|
| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
acquiesced
|
|
| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
tiresome
|
|
| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
babbled
|
|
| v.喋喋不休( babble的过去式和过去分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
uncommon
|
|
| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
espionage
|
|
| n.间谍行为，谍报活动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
blackmailer
|
|
| 敲诈者，勒索者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
dealing
|
|
| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
buzzer
|
|
| n.蜂鸣器；汽笛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
linen
|
|
| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
applied
|
|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
makeup
|
|
| n.组织；性格；化装品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
sterilizer
|
|
| n.消毒者，消毒器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
scapegoat
|
|
| n.替罪的羔羊，替人顶罪者；v.使…成为替罪羊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
intonation
|
|
| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
laurels
|
|
| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
royalty
|
|
| n.皇家，皇族 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
consort
|
|
| v.相伴；结交 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
supremely
|
|
| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
repertoire
|
|
| n.(准备好演出的)节目，保留剧目；(计算机的)指令表，指令系统， <美>(某个人的)全部技能；清单，指令表 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
secrecy
|
|
| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
solvent
|
|
| n.溶剂；adj.有偿付能力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
grumble
|
|
| vi.抱怨；咕哝；n.抱怨，牢骚；咕哝，隆隆声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
blackmailing
|
|
| 胁迫，尤指以透露他人不体面行为相威胁以勒索钱财( blackmail的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
rogue
|
|
| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
pricks
|
|
| 刺痛( prick的名词复数 )； 刺孔； 刺痕； 植物的刺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
sanity
|
|
| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
axe
|
|
| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
crook
|
|
| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |