Chapter Seventeen Marking Time


          With the murder of Sir Carmichael Clarke the A B C mystery leaped
     into
     the fullest prominence.
         The newspapers were full of nothing else.All sorts of "clues"were
     reported to have been discovered.Arrests were announced to be
     imminent.
         There were photographs of every person or place remotely connected
     with
     the murder.There were interviews with anyone who would give
     interviews.There
     were questions asked in Parliament.
         The Andover murder was now bracketed with the other two.
         It was the belief of Scotland Yard that the fullest publicity was
     the
     best chance of laying the murderer by the heels.The population of
     Great
     Britain turned itself into an army of amateur sleuths.
         The Daily Flicker had the grand inspiration of using the caption:
         HE MAY BE IN YOUR TOWN!
         Poirot，of course，was in the thick of things.The letters sent to
     him
     were published and facsimiled.He was abused wholesale for not having
     prevented the crimes and defended on the ground that he was on the
     point of
     naming the murderer.
         Reporters incessantly badgered him for interviews.
         What M.Poirot Says Today.
         Which was usually followed by a half-column of imbecilities.
         M.Poirot Takes Grave View of Situation.
         M.Poirot on the Eve of Success.
         Captain Hastings，the great friend of M.Poirot，told our Special
     Representative......
         "Poirot，"I would cry."Pray believe me.I never said anything of
     the
     kind."
         My friend would reply kindly:
         "I know，Hastings-I know.The spoken word and the written-there is
     an
     astonishing gulf between them.There is a way of turning sentences that
     completely reverses the original meaning."
         "I wouldn't like you to think I'd said-""But do not worry
     yourself.All
     this is of no importance.These imbecilities，even，may help."
         "How?"
         "En bien，"said Poirot grimly."If our madman reads what I am
     supposed to
     

     have said to the Daily Blague today，he will lose all respect for me
     as an
     opponent!"
         I am，perhaps，giving the impression that nothing practical was
     being
     done in the way of investigations.On the contrary，Scotland Yard and
     the
     local police of the various counties were indefatigable in following
     up the
     smallest clues.
         Hotels，people who kept lodgings，boarding-houses-all those within
     a
     wide radius of the crimes were questioned minutelly.
         Hundreds of stories from imaginative people who had "seen a man
     looking
     very queer and rolling his eyes".or "noticed a man with a sinister
     face
     slinking along"，were sifted to the last detail.No information，even
     of the
     vaguest character，was neglected.Trains，buses，trams，railway
     porters，
     conductors，bookstalls，stationers-there was an indefatigable round of
     questions and verifications.
         At least a score of people were detained and questioned until they
     could
     satisfy the police as to their movements on the night in question.
         The net result was not entirely a blank.Certain statements were
     borne in
     mind and noted down as of possible value，but without further evidence
     they
     led nowhere.
         If Crome and his colleagues were indefatigable，Poirot seemed to
     me
     strangely supine.We argued now and again.
         "But what is it that you would have me do，my friend?The routine
     inquires，the police make them better than I do.
         Always-always you want me to run about like the dog."
         "Instead of which you sit at home like-like-""A sensible man!My
     force，
     Hastings，is in my brain，not in my feet!All the time，whilst I seem
     to you
     idle，I am reflecting."
         "Reflecting?"I cried."Is this a time for reflection?"
         "Yes，a thousand times yes."
         "But what can you possibly gain by reflection?
         You know the facts of the three cases by heart."
         "It is not the facts I reflect upon-but the mind of the murderer."
         "The mind of a madman!"
         "Precisely.And therefore not to be arrived at in a minute.When I
     know
     what the murderer is like，I shall be able to find out who he is.And
     all the
     time I learn more.After the Andover crime，what did we know about the
     murderer?Next to nothing at all.After the Bexhill crime?A little more.
         After the Churston murder?More still.I begin to see-not what you
     would
     like to see-the outlines of a face and form but the outlines of a
     mind.A
     mind that moves and works in certain definite directions.After the
     next
     crime-""Poirot!"
         My friend looked at me dispassionately.
         "But，yes，Hastings，I think it is almost certain there will be
     another.
         A lot depends on la chance.So far our inconnu has been lucky.This
     time
     the luck may turn against him.But in any case，after another crime，we
     shall
     know infinitely more.Crime is terribly revealing.Try and vary your
     methods
     as you will，your tastes，your habits，your attitude of mind，and your
     soul
     is revealed by your actions.There are confusing indications-sometimes
     it is
     as though there were two intelligences at work-but soon the outline
     will
     clear itself，I shall know."
         "Who it is?"
         "No，Hastings，I shall not know his name and address!I shall know
     what
     kind of a man he is......"
         "And then?......"
         "Et alors，je vais a la peche."
         As I looked rather bewildered，he went on:
         "You comprehend，Hastings，an expert fisherman knows exactly what
     flies
     to offer to what fish.I shall offer the right kind of fly."
         "And then?"
         "And then?And then?You are as bad as the superior Crome with his
     eternal
     "Oh，yes?"Eh bien，and then he will take the bait and the hook and we
     will
     reel in the line......"
         "In the meantime people are dying right and left."
         "Three people.And there are，what is it-about 120-road deaths
     every
     week?"
         "That is entirely different."
         "It is probably exactly the same to those who die.For the others，
     the
     relations，the friends-yes，there is a difference，but one thing at
     least
     rejoices me in this case."
         "By all means let us hear anything in the nature of rejoicing."
         "Inutile to be so sarcastic.It rejoices me that there is here no
     shadow
     of guilt to distress the innocent."
         "Isn't this worse?"
         "No，no，a thousand times no!There is nothing so terrible as to
     live in
     an atmosphere of suspicion-to see eyes watching you and the love in
     them
     changing to fear-nothing so terrible as to suspect those near and dear
     to
     you-It is poisonous-a miasma.No，the poisoning of life for the
     innocent，
     that，at least，we cannot lay at A B C's door."
         "You'll soon be making excuses for the man!"I said bitterly.
         "Why not?He may believe himself fully justified.We may，perhaps，
     end by
     having sympathy with his point of view."
         "Really，Poirot!"
         "Alas!I have shocked you.First my inertia-and then my views."
         I shook my head without replying.
         "All the same，"said Poirot after a minute or two."I have one
     project
     that will please you-since it is active and not passive.Also，it will
     entail
     a lot of conversation and practically no thought."
         I did not quite like his tone.
         "What is it?"I asked cautiously.
         "The extraction from the friends，relations and servants of the
     victims
     of all they know."
         "Do you suspect them of keeping things back，then?"
         "Not intentionally.But telling everything you know always implies
     selection.If I were to say to you，recount me your day yesterday，you
     would
     perhaps reply:"I rose at nine，I breakfasted at half-past，I had eggs
     and
     bacon and coffee，I went to mu club，etc."You would not include:"I
     tore my
     nail and had to cut it.I rang for shaving water.I spilt a little
     coffee on
     the tablecloth.I brushed my hat and put it on."
         One cannot tell everything.Therefore one selects.
         At the time of a murder people select what they think is
     important.But
     quite frequently they think wrong!"
         "And how is one to get at the right things?"
         "Simply，as I said just now，by conversation.
         By talking!By discussing a certain happening，or a certain
     person，or a
     certain day，over and over again，extra details are bound to arise."
         "What kind of details?"
         "Naturally that I do not know or I should not want to find out.But
     enough time has passed now for ordinary things to reassume their
     value.It is
     against all mathematical laws that in three cases of murder there is
     no
     single fact nor sentence with a bearing on the case.
         Some travial happening，some trivial remark there must be which
     would be
     a pointer!It is looking for the needle in the haystack，I grant-but in
     the
     haystack there is a needle-of that I am convinced!"
         It seemed to me extremely vague and hazy.
         "You do not see it?Your wits are not so sharp as those of a mere
     servant
     girl."
         He tossed me over a letter.It was neatly written in a sloping
     board-school hand.
         "Dear Sir，-I hope you will forgive the liberty I take in writing
     to you.
         I have been thinking a lot since these awful two murders like poor
     auntie's.It seems as though we're all in the same boat，as it were.I
     saw the
     young lady's picture in the paper，the young lady，I mean，that is the
     sister of the young lady that was killed at Bexhill.
         I made so bold as to write to her and tell her I was coming to
     London to
     get a place and asked if I could come to her or her mother as I said
     two
     heads might be better than one and I would not want much wages，but
     only to
     find out who this awful fiend is and perhaps we might get at it better
     if we
     could say what we knew something might come of it.
         "The young lady wrote very nicely and said as how she worked in an
     office and lived in a hostel，but she suggested I might write to you
     and she
     said she'd been thinking something of the same kind as I had.And she
     said we
     were in the same trouble and we ought to stand together.So I am
     writing，sir，
     to say I am coming to London and this is my address.
         "Hoping I am not troubling you，Yours respectfully，Mary Drower
     "Mary
     Drower，"said Poirot."is a very intelligent girl."
         He picked up another letter.
         "Read this."
         It was a line from Franklin Clarke，saying that he was coming to
     London
     and would call upon Poirot the following day if not inconvenient.
         "Do not despair，mon ami，"said Poirot.
         "Action is about to begin."

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