AgathaChristie-HerculePoirotsCasebook

by Hercule Poirot's Casebook (lit)

  unlikely if it had been noticed.'

  Poirot nodded thoughtfully. 'What time is it supposed h,

  died?' he asked.

  S 'ullingfleet said:

  'I examined the body as soon as I got here - that is, at thirt3

  two minutes past four. Mr Farley had been dead at least

  hour.'

  Poirot's face was very grave.

  'So then, it seems possible that his death could have occurre{

  at the time he mentioned to me - that is, at twenty-eig, h

  nunutes past three.

  'Exactly ,' said Stillingileet.

  'Any fmgermarks on the revolver?'

  Yes, his own.

  'And the revolver itself?.'

  The inspector took up the tale.

  'Was one which he kept in the second right-hand drawer of hi:

  desk, just as he told you. Mrs Farley has identified it positively

  Moreover, you understand, there is only one entrance to the

  room, the door giving on to the landing. The two reporters wer

  sitting exactly opposite that door and they swear that no on

  entered the room from the time Mr Farley spoke to them, un

  Mr Comworthy entered it at a little after four o'clock.'

  'So that there is every reason to suppose that Mr Farley.

  comnutted stuclde.

  Inspector Barnett smiled a little.

  'There would have been no doubt at all but for one point.'

  'And that?'

  'The letter written to you.

  Poirot smiled too.

  'I see! Where Hercule Poirot is concerned- immediately the

  suspicion of murder arises.

  15

  'Precisely,' said the inspector dryly. 'However, after your

  clearing up of the situation-'

  Poirot interrupted him. 'One little minute.' He turned to

  Mrs Farley. 'Had your husband ever been hypnotized?'

  'Never.'

  'Had he studied the question of hypnotism? Was he

  interested in the subject?'

  She shook her head. 'I don't think so.'

  Suddenly her self-control seemed to break down. 'That

  horrible dream! It's uncanny! That he should have dreamed

  that - night after night - and then - it's as though he were hounded to death!'

  Poirot remembered Benedict Farley saying-- 'I proceed to

  do that which I really wish to do. I put an end to myself.'

  He said, 'Had it ever occurred to you that your husband

  might be tempted to do away with himself?.'

  'No- at least- sometimes he was very queer .... '

  Joanna Farley's voice broke in clear and scornful. 'Father

  would never have killed himself. He was far too careful of

  himself.'

  Dr Stillingfleet said, 'It isn't the people who threaten to

  commit suicide who usually do it, you know, Miss Farley.

  That's why suicides sometimes seem unaccountable.'

  Poirot rose to his feet. 'Is it permitted,' he asked, 'that I see

  the room where the tragedy occurred?'

  'Certainly. Dr Stillingfleet-'

  The doctor accompanied Poirot upstairs.

  Benedict Farley's room was a much larger one than the

  secretary's next door. It was luxuriously furnished with deep

  leather-covered arm-chairs, a thick pile carpet, and a superb

  outsize writing-desk.

  Poirot passed behind the latter to where a dark stain on the

  carpet showed just before the window. He remembered the

  millionaire saying, 'A t twenty-eight minutes past three I open the

  second drawer on the right of my desk, take out the revolver that I

  158

  keep there, load it, and walk over to the window. And then - and

  then I shoot myself.'

  He nodded slowly. Then he said:

  'The window was open like this?'

  'Yes. But nobody could have got in that way.'

  Poirot put his head out. There was no sill or parapet and no

  pipes near. Not even a cat could have gained access that way.

  Opposite rose the blank wall of the factory, a dead wall with no

  windows in it.

  Sfillingtleet said, 'Funny room for a rich man to choose as his

  own sanctum, with that outlook. It's like looking out on to a

  prison wall.'

  'Yes,' said Poirot. He drew his head in and stared at the

  expanse of solid brick. 'I think,' he said, 'that that wall is

  important.'

  Stillingtleet looked at him curiously. 'You mean - psycho-

  logicany?'

  Poirot had moved to the desk. Idly, or so it seemed, he

  picked up a pair of what are usually called lazy-tongs. He

  pressed the handles; the tongs shot out to their full length.

  Delicately, Poirot picked up a burnt match stump with them

  from beside a chair some feet away and conveyed it carefully to

  the wastepaper basket.

  'When you've finished playing with those things '

  said

  Stillingfleet

  irritably.

  Hercule

  Poirot murmured, 'An ingenious invention,' and replaced

  the tongs neatly on the writing-table. Then he asked:

  'Where

  were Mrs Farley and Miss Farley at the time of the death?'

  'Mrs

  Farley

  was resting in her room on the floor above this. Miss Farley

  was painting in her studio at the top of the house.'

  Hercule Poirot

  drummed idly with his fingers on the table for a minute

  or two. Then he said:

  'I should

  like to see Miss Farley. Do you think you could ask her to

  come here for a minute or two?'

  159

  'If you like.'

  Stillingfieet glanced at him curiously, then left the room. r2

  .another minute or two the door opened and Joanna Farley care

  m.

  'You do not mind, Mademoiselle, if I ask you a few questions ?

  She returned his glance coolly. 'Please ask anything you

  choose. '

  'Did you know that your father kept a revolver in his desk.)' 'No.'

  'Where were you and your mother - that is to say your

  stepmother- that is fight?'

  'Yes, Louise is my father's second wife. She is only eight

  years older than I am. You were about to say-?'

  'Where were you and she on Thursday of last week? That is

  to say, on Thursday night.'

  She reflected for a minute or two.

  'Thursday? Let me see. Oh, yes, we had gone to the theatre.

  To see Little Dog Laughed.'

  'Your father did not suggest accompanying you?'

  'He never went out to theatres.'

  'What did he usually do in the evenings?'

  'He sat in here and read.'

  'He was not a very sociable man?'

  The girl looked at him directly. 'My father,' she said, 'had a

  singularly unpleasant personality. No one who lived in close

  association with him could possibly be fond of him.'

  'That, Mademoiselle, is a very candid statement.'

  'I am saving you time, M. Poirot. I realize quite well what

  you are getting at. My stepmother married my father for his

  money. I live here because I have no money to live elsewhere.

  There is a man I wish to marry- a poor man; my father saiv to it

  that he lost his job. He wanted me, you see, to mar well - an

  easy matter since I was to be his heiress!'

  'Your father's fortune passes to you?'

  'Yes. That is,
he left Louise, my stepmother, a quarter of a

  160

  million free of tax, and there are other legacies, but the residue

  goes to me.' She smiled suddenly. 'So you see, M. Poirot, I had

  every reason to desire my father's death!'

  'I see, Mademoiselle, that you have inherited your father's

  intdligence.'

  She said thoughtfully, 'Father was'clever .... One felt that

  with him - that he had force - driving power - but it had all

  turned sour- bitter- there was no humanity left .... '

  Hercule Poirot said softly, 'Grand Dieu, but what an imbecile

  Joanna Farley turned towards the door. 'Is there anything

  more?'

  'Two little questions. These tongs here,' he picked up the

  lazy-tongs, 'were they always on the table?'

  'Yes. Father used them for picking up things. He didn't like

  stooping.'

  'One other question. Was your father's eyesight good?'

  She stared at him.

  'Oh, no - he couldn't see at all - I mean he couldn't see

  without his glasses. His sight had always been bad from a boy.'

  'But with his glasses?'

  'Oh, he could see all right then, of course.'

  'He could read newspapers and frae print?'

  'Oh, yes.'

  'That is all, Mademoiselle.'

  She went out of the room.

  Poirot murmured, 'I was stupid. It was there, all the time,

  under my nose. And because it was so near I could not see it.'

  He leaned out of the window once more. Down below, in the

  narrow way between the house and the factory, he saw a small

  dark object.

  Hercule Poirot nodded, satisfied, and went downstairs again.

  The others were still in the library. Poirot addressed himself

  to the secretary:

  'I want you, Mr Comworthy, to recount to me in detail the

  161

  exact circumstances of Mr Farley's summons to me. When,

  for instance, did Mr Farley dictate that letter?'

  'On Wednesday afternoon - at five-thirty, as far as I can

  remember.'

  'Were there any special directions about posting it?'

  'He told me to post it myself.'

  'And you did so?'

  'Yes.'

  'Did he give any special instructions to the butler abou,.

  admitting me?'

  'Yes. He told me to tell Holmes (Holmes is the butler) that

  a gentleman would be calling at nine-thirty. He was to ask the

  gentleman's name. He was also to ask to see the letter.'

  'Rather peculiar precaution to take, don't you think?'

  Cornworthy shrugged his shoulders.

  'Mr Farley,' he said carefully, 'was rather a peculiar man.'

  'Any other instructions?'

  'Yes. He told me to take the evening off.'

  'Did you do so?'

  'Yes, immediately after dinner I went to the cinema.'

  'When did you return?'

  'I let myself in about a quarter past eleven.'

  'Did you see Mr Farley again that evening?'.

  'No.'

  'And he did not mention the matter the next morning?'

  Poirot paused a moment, then resumed, 'When I arrived I

  was not shown into Mr Farley's own room.'

  'No. He told me that I was to tell Holmes to show you into

  my room.'

  'Why was that? Do you know?'

  Comworthy shook his head. 'I never questioned any of Mr

  Farley's orders,' he said dryly. 'He would have resented it if I

  had.'

  'Did he usually receive visitors in his own room?'

  162

  'Ustally, but not always. Sometimes he saw them in my room.'

  'Was there any reason for that?'

  Hugo Comworthy considered.

  'No- I hardly think so- I've never really thought about it.'

  Turning to Mrs Farley, Poirot asked:

  'You permit that I ring for your butler?'

  'Certainly, M. Poirot.'

  Very correct, very urbane, Holmes answered the bell.

  'You rang, madam?'

  Mrs Farley indicated Poirot with a gesture. Holmes mined.

  politely. 'Yes, sir?'

  'What were your instructions, Holmes, on the Thursday

  night when I came here?'

  Holmes cleared his throat, then said:

  'Mter dinner Mr Comworthy told me that Mr Farley ex-pected

  a Mr Hercul Poirot at nine-thirty. I was to ascertain the

  gentleman's name, and I was to verify the information by

  glancing at a letter. Then I was to show him up to Mr

  Cornworthy's room.'

  'Were you also told to knock on the door?'

  An expression of distaste crossed the butler's countenance.

  'That was one of Mr Farley's orders. I was always to knock

  when introducing visitors- business visitors, that is,' he added.

  'Ah, that puled me! Were you given any other instructions

  concerning me?'

  'No, sir. When Mr Cornworthy had told me what I have just

  repeated to you he went out.'

  'what time was that?'

  'Ten minutes to nine, sir.'

  'Did you see Mr Farley after that?'

  'Yes, sir, I took him up a glass of hot water as usual at nine

  o'clock.'

  'Was he then in his own room or in Mr Comworthy's?'

  'He was in his own room, sir.'

  'You noticed nothing unusual about that room?'

  163

  'Unusual? No, sir.'

  'Where were Mrs Farley and Miss Farley?'

  'They had gone to the theatre, sir.'

  'Thank you, Holmes, that will do.'

  Holmes bowed and left the room. Poirot turned to Ha

  millionaire's widow.

  'One more question, Mrs Farley. Had your husband goc

  sight?'

  'No. Not without his glasses.'

  'He was very shortsighted?'

  'Oh, yes, he was quite helpless without his spectacles.'

  'He had several pairs of glasses?'

  'yes.'

  'Ah,' said Poirot. He leaned back. 'I think that that con

  cludes the case .... '

  There was silence in. the room. They were all looking at th

  little man who sat there complacently stroking his moustache

  On the inspector's face was perplexity, Dr S 'tdlingfieet was

  frowning, Cornworthy merely stared uncomprehendingly, Mr

  Farley gazed in blank astonishment, Joanna Farley look

  eager.

  Mrs Farley broke the silence.

  'I don't understand, M. Poirot.' Her voice was fretful. 'The

  dream '

  'Yes,' said Poirot. 'That dream was very important.'

  Mrs Farley shivered. She said:

  'I've never believed in anything supernatural before - but

  now- to dream it night after night beforehand-'

  'It's extraordinary,' said S 'tfilingfieet. 'Extraordinary! If we

  hadn't got your word for it, Poirot, and if you hadn't had it

  straight from the horse's mouth -' he coughed in

  embarrassment, and readopting his professional manner, 'I beg

  your pardon, Mrs Farley. If Mr Farley himself had not told that

  story-'

  'Exactly,' said Poirot. His eyes, which had been half-closed,

  164

  opened suddenly. They were very green. '/f Benedict Farley

  hadn't told me-'

  He paused a minute, looking round at a circle of blank faces.

  'There are certain things, you comprehend, that happened

  that evening which I was quite at a
loss to explain. First, why

  make such a point of my bringing that letter with me?'

  'Identification,' suggested Cornworthy.

  'No, no, my dear young man. Really that idea is too

  ridiculous. There must be some much more valid reason. For

  not only did Mr Farley require to see that letter produced, but

  he definitely demanded that I should leave it behind me. And

  moreover even then he did not destroy it! It was found among

  his papers this afternoon. Why did he keep it?'

  Joanna Fafiey's voice broke in. 'He wanted, in case anything

  happened to him, that the facts of his strange dream should be

  made known.'

  Poirot nodded approvingly.

  'You are astute, Mademoiselle. That must be- that can only

  be- the point of the keeping of the letter. When Mr Farley was

  dead, the story of that strange dream was to be told! That dream

  was very important. That dream, Mademoiselle, was vita/!

  'I will come now,' he went on, 'to the second point. After

  hearing his story I ask Mr Farley to show me the desk and the

  revolver. He seems about to get up to do so, then suddenly

  refuses. Why did he refuse?'

  · This time no one advanced an answer.

  'I will put that question differently. What was there in that

  next room that Mr Farley did not want me to see?'

  There was still silence.