CHAPTER 5 Mary Drower

I think that I can date my interest in the case from the first mentionof
the A. B. C. railway guide. Up till then I had not been able to raisemuch
enthusiasm. This sordid¹ murder of an old woman in a back street shopwas so like the usual type of crime reported in the newspapers thatit
failed to strike a significant note. In my own mind I had put down theanonymous letter with its mention of the 21st as a mere³ coincidence.
Mrs. Ascber, I felt reasonably sure, had been the victim of her drunkenbrute of a husband. But now the mention of the railway guide (so familiarly known by its abbreviation of A. B. C. , listing as it did allrail-way
stations in their alphabetical⁴ order) sent a quiver of excitementthrough me. Surely--surely this could not be a second coincidence?
The sordid crime took on a new aspect.
Who was the mysterious individual who had killed Mrs. Ascher andleft an A. B. C. railway guide behind him?
When we left the police station our first visit was to the mortuaryto
see the body of the dead woman. A strange feeling came over me as Igazed down on that wrinkled old face with the scanty⁵ grey hair drawnback tightly from the temples. It looked so peaceful, so incrediblyre-mote
from violence.
"Never knew who or what struck her, " observed the sergeant⁶.
"That' s what Dr. Kerr says. I' m glad it was that way, poor old soul.
Adecent woman she was. "
"She must have been beautiful once, " said Poirot.
"Really?" I murmured incredulously.
"But yes, look at the line of the j aw, the bones, the moulding of thehead. "
He sighed as he replaced the sheet and we left the mortuary.
Our next move was a brief interview with the police surgeon.
Dr. Kerr was a competent-looking middle-aged⁷ man. He spokebriskly and with decision.
"The weapon wasn' t found, " he said. "Impossible to say what itmay have been. A weighted stick, a club, a form of sandbag--any ofthose would fit the case. "

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