Chapter Three Andover



          I had been impressed at the time by Poirot's forebodings about
     the
     anonymous letter he had received，but I must admit that the matter had
     passed from my mind when the 21st actually arrived and the first
     reminder of
     it came with a visit paid to my friend by Chief Inspector Japp of
     Scotland
     Yard.The CID inspector had been known to us for many years and he gave
     me a
     hearty welcome.
         "Well，I never，"he exclaimed."If it isn't Captain Hastings back
     from
     the wilds of the what do you call it!Quite like old days seeing you
     here
     with Monsieur Poirot.You're looking well，too.Just a little bit thin
     on top，
     eh?Well，that's what we're all coming to.I'm the same."
         I winced slightly.I was under the impression that owing to the
     careful
     way I brushed my hair across the top of my head the thinness referred
     to by
     Japp was quite unnoticeable.However，Japp had never been remarkable
     for tact
     where I was concerned，so I put a good face upon it and agreed that we
     were
     non of us getting any youger.
         "Except Monsieur Poirot here，"said Japp.
         "Quite a good advertisement for a hair tonic，he'd be.Face fungus
     sprouting finer than ever.Coming out into the limelight，too，in his
     old
     age.Mixed up in all the celebrated cases of the day.Train mysteries，
     air
     mysteries，high society deaths-oh，he's here，there and
     everywhere.Never
     been so celebrated as since he retired."
         "I have already told Hastings that I am like the prima donna who
     makes
     always one more appearance，'said Poirot，smiling.
         "I shouldn't wonder if you ended by detecting your own death，
     "said Japp，
     laughing heartily."That's an idea，that is.Ought to be put in a book."
         "It will be Hastings who will have to do that，"said Poirot，
     twinkling
     at me.
         "Ha ha!That would be a joke，that would，"laughed Japp.
         I failed to see why the idea was so extremely amusing，and in any
     case I
     

     thought the joke was in poor taste.Poirot，poor old chap，is getting
     on.Jokes about his approaching demise can hardly be agreeable to him.
         Perhaps my manner showed my feelings，for Japp changed the
     subject.
         "Have you heard about Monsieur Poirot's anonymous letter?"
         "I showed it to Hastings the other day，"said my friend.
         "Of course，"I exclaimed."It had quite slipped my memory.Let me
     see，
     what was the date mentioned?"
         "The 21st，"said Japp."That's what I dropped in about.Yesterday
     was the
     21st and just out of curiosity I rang up Andover last night.Nothing
     doing.One broken shop window-kid throwing stones-and a couple of drunk
     and
     disorderlies.So just for once our Belgian friend was barking up the
     wrong
     tree."
         "I am relieved，I must confess."
         acknowledged Poirot.
         "You'd quite got the wind up about it，hadn't you?"said Japp
     affectionately."Bless you，we get dozens of letters like that coming
     in
     every day!People with nothing better to do and a bit weak in the top
     storey
     sit down and write'em.They don't mean any harm!Just a kind of
     excitement."
         "I have indeed been foolish to take the matter so seriously，"said
     Poirot."It is the nest of the horse that I put my nose into there."
         "You're mixing up mares and wasps，"said Japp.
         "Pardon?"
         "Just a couple of proverbs.Well，I must be off.Got a little
     business in
     the next street to see to-receiving stolen jewellery.I thought I'd
     just drop
     in on my way and put your mind at rest.Pity to let those grey cells
     function
     unnecessarily."
         With which words and a hearty laugh，Japp departed.
         "He does not change much，the good Japp，eh?"asked Poirot.
         "He looks much older，"I said.
         "Getting as grey as a badger，"I added vindictively.
         Poirot coughed and said:
         "You know，Hastings，there is a little device-my hairdresser is a
     man of
     great ingenuity-one attaches it to the scalp and brushes one's own
     hair over
     it-it is not a wig，you comprehend-but-""Poirot，"I roared."Once and
     for all
     I will have nothing to do with the beastly inventions of your
     confounded
     hairdresser.
         What's the matter with the top of my head?"
         "Nothing-nothing at all."
         "It's not as though I were going bald."
         "Of course not!Of course not!"
         "The hot summers out there naturally cause the hair to fall out a
     bit.I
     shall take back a really good hair tonic."
         "Precisement."
         "And，anyway，what business is it of Japp's?He always was an
     offensive
     kind of devil.And no sense of humour.The kind of man who laughs when a
     chair
     is pulled away just as a man is about to sit down."
         "A great many people would laugh at that."
         "It's utterly senseless."
         "From the point of view of the man about to sit，certainly it is."
         "Well，"I said，slightly recovering my temper，(I admit that I am
     touchy
     about the thinness of my hair.)"I'm sorry that anonymous letter
     business
     came to nothing."
         "I have indeed been in the wrong over that.
         About that letter，there was，I thought，the odour of the
     fish.Instead a
     mere stupidity.
         Alas，I grow old and suspicious like the blind watch-dog who
     growls when
     there is nothing there."
         "If I'm going to co-operate with you，we must look about for some
     other
     "creamy"crime，"I said with a laugh.
         "You remember your remark of the other day?If you could order a
     crime as
     one orders a dinner，what would you choose?"
         I fell in with his humour.
         "Let me see now.Let's review the menu.
         Robbery?Forgery?No，I think not.Rather too vegetarian.It must be
     murder-red-blooded murder-with trimmings，of course."
         "Naturally.The hors d'oeuvres."
         "Who shall the victim be-man or woman?Man，I think.Some
     big-wig.American
     millionaire.Prime Minister.Newspaper proprietor.Scene of the
     crime-well，
     what's wrong with the good old library?Nothing like it for atmosphere.
         As for the weapon-well，it might be a curiously twisted dagger-or
     some
     blunt instrument-a carved stone idol-"Poirot sighed.
         "Or，of course，"I said，"there's poison-but that's always so
     technical.Or a revolver shot echoing in the night.Then there must be a
     beautiful girl or two-""With auburn hair，"murmured my friend.
         "Your same old joke.One of the beautiful girls，of course，must be
     unjustly suspected-and there's some misunderstanding between her and
     the
     young man.And then，of course，there must be some other suspects-an
     older
     woman-dark，dangerous type-and some friend or rival of the dead
     man's-and a
     quiet secretary-dark horse-and a hearty man with a bluff manner-and a
     couple
     of discharged servants or gamekeepers or somethings-and a damn fool of
     a
     detective rather like Japp-and well-that's about all."
         "That is your idea of the cream，eh?"
         "I gather you don't agree."
         Poirot looked at me sadly.
         "You have made there a very pretty resume of nearly all the
     detective
     stories that have ever been written."
         "Well，"I said."What would you order?"
         Poirot closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.
         His voice came purringly from between his lips.
         "A very simple crime.A crime with no complications.A crime of
     quiet
     domestic life......very unimpassioned-very intime."
         "How can a crime be intime?"
         "Supposing，"murmured Poirot，"that four people sit down to play
     bridge
     and one，the odd man out，sits in a chair by the fire.
         At the end of the evening the man by the fire is found dead.One of
     the
     four，while he is dummy，has gone over and killed him，and intent on
     the
     play of the hand，the other three have not noticed.Ah，there would be
     a
     crime for you!Which of the four was it?"
         "Well，"I said."I can't see any excitement in that!"
         Poirot threw me a glance of reproof.
         "No，because there are no curiously twisted daggers，no
     blackmail，no
     emerald that is the stolen eye of a god，no untraceable Eastern
     poisons.You
     have the melodramatic soul，Hastings.You would like，not one murder，
     but a
     series of murders."
         "I admit，"I said，"that a second murder in a book often cheers
     things
     up.If the murder happens in the first chapter，and you have to follow
     up
     everybody's alibi until the last page but one-well，it does get a bit
     tedious."
         The telephone rang and Poirot rose to answer.
         "Allo，"he said."Allo.Yes，it is Hercule Poirot speaking."
         He listened for a minute or two and then I saw his face change.
         His own side of the conversation was short and disjointed.
         "Mais oui......"
         "Yes，of course......"
         "But yes，we will come......"
         "Naturally......"
         "It may be as you say......"
         "Yes，I will bring it.A tout a l'heure then."
         He replaced the receiver and came across the room to me.
         "That was Japp speaking，Hastings."
         "Yes?"
         "He had just got back to the Yard.There was a message from
     Andover......"
         "Andover?"I cried excitedly.
         Poirot said slowly:
         "An old woman of the name of Ascher who keeps a little tobacco and
     newspaper shop has been found murdered."
         I think I felt ever so slightly damped.My interest，quickened by
     the
     sound of Andover，suffered a faint check.I had expected something
     fantastic-out of the way!The murder of an old woman who kept a little
     tabacco shop seemed，somehow，sordid and uninteresting.
         Poirot continued in the same slow，grave voice:
         "The Andover police believe they can put their hand on the man who
     did
     it-"I felt a second throb of disappointment.
         "It seems the woman was on bad terms with her husband.He drinks
     and is
     by way of being rather a nasty customer.He's threatened to take her
     life
     more than once.
         "Nevertheless，"continued Poirot，"in view of what has happened，
     the
     police there would like to have another look at the anonymous letter I
     received.I have said that you and I will go down to Andover at once."
         My spirits revived a little.After all，sordid as this crime seemed
     to be，
     it was a crime，and it was a long time since I had had any association
     with
     crime and criminals.
         I hardly listened to the next words Poirot said.But they were to
     come
     back to me with significance later.
         "This is the beginning，"said Hercule Poirot.

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