Chapter Thirty-One Hercule Poirot Asks Questions


          It was a clear November day.Dr Thompson and Chief Inspector Japp
     had
     come round to acquaint Poirot with the result of the police court
     proceedings in the case of Rex v.Alexander Bonaparte Cust.
         Poirot himself had had a slight bronchial chill which had
     prevented his
     attending.Fortunately he had not insisted on having my company.
         "Committed for trial，"said Japp."So that's that."
         "Isn't it unusual?"I asked，"for a defence to be offered at this
     stage?
         I thought prisoners always reserved their defence."
         "It's the usual course，"said Japp.
         "I suppose young Lucas thought he might rush it through.He's a
     trier，I
     will say.
         Insanity's the only defence possible."
         Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
         "With insanity there can be no acquittal.
         Imprisonment during His Majesty's pleasure is hardly preferable to
     death."
         "I suppose Lucas thought there was a chance，"said Japp."With a
     first-class alibi for the Bexhill murder，the whold case might be
     weakened.
         I don't think he realized how strong our case is.
         Anyway，Lucas goes in for originality.He's a young man，and he
     wants to
     hit the public eye."
         Poirot turned to Thompson.
         "What's your opinion，doctor?"
         "Of Cust?Upon my soul，I don't know what to say.He's playing the
     same
     man remarkably well.He's an epileptic，of course."
         "What an amazing denouement that was，"I said.
         "His falling into the Andover police station in a fit?Yes-it was a
     fitting dramatic curtain to the drama.A B C has always timed his
     effects
     well."
         "Is it possible to commit a crime and be unaware of it?"I
     asked."His
     denials seem to have a ring of truth in them."
         Dr Thompson smiled a little.
         "You mustn't be taken in by that theatrical "I swear by
     God"pose.It's my
     opinion that Cust knows perfectly well he committed the murders."
         "When they're as fervent as that they usually do，"said Crome.
         "As to your question，"went on Thompson，"it's perfectly possible
     for an
     

     epileptic subject in a state of somnambulism to commit an action and
     be
     entirely unaware of having done so.But it is the general opinion that
     such
     an action must "not be contrary to the will of the person in the
     waking
     state"."
         He went on discussing the matter，speaking of grand mal and petit
     mal
     and，to tell the truth，confusing me hopelessly as is often the case
     when a
     learned person holds forth on his own subject.
         "However，I'm against the theory that Cust committed these crimes
     without knowing he'd done them.You might put that theory forward if it
     weren't for the letters.The letters knock the theory on the head.They
     show
     premeditation and a careful planning of the crime."
         "And of the letters we have still no explanation，"said Poirot.
         "That interests you?"
         "Naturally-since they were written to me.And on the subject of the
     letters Cust is persistently dumb.Until I get at the reason for those
     letters being written to me，I shall not feel that the case is
     solved."
         "Yes-I can understand that from your point of view.There doesn't
     seem to
     be any reason to believe that the man ever came up against you in any
     way?"
         "None whatever."
         "I might make a suggestion.Your name!"
         "My name?"
         "Yes.Cust is saddled-apparently by the whim of his mother (Odepus
     complex there，I shouldn't wonder!)-with two extremely bombastic
     Christian
     names:Alexander and Bonaparte.You see the impliations?Alexander-the
     popularly supposed undefeatable who sighed for more worlds to conquer.
         Bonaparte-the great Emperor of the French.He wants an adversary-an
     adversary，one might say，in his class.Well-there you are-Hercules the
     strong."
         "Your words are very suggestive，doctor.They foster ideas......"
         "Oh，it's only a suggestion.Well，I must be off."
         Dr Thompson went out.Japp remained.
         "Does this alibi worry you?"Poirot asked.
         "It does a little，"admitted the inspector."Mind you，I don't
     believe in
     it，because I know it isn't true.But it is going to be the deuce to
     break
     it.This man Strange is a tough character."
         "Describe him to me."
         "He's a man of forty.A tough，confident，self-opinionated mining
     engineer.It's my opinion that it was he who insisted on his evidence
     being
     taken now.He wants to get off to Chile.He hoped the thing might be
     settled
     out of hand."
         "He's one of the most positive people I've ever seen，"I said.
         "The type of man who would not like to admit he was mistaken，
     "said
     Poirot thoughtfully.
         "He sticks to his story and he's not one to be heckled.He swears
     by all
     that's blue that he picked up Cust in the Whitecross Hotel at
     Eastbourne on
     the evening of July 24th.He was lonely and wanted someone to talk
     to.As far
     as I can see，Cust made an ideal listener.He didn't interrupt!After
     dinner
     he and Cust played dominoes.It appears strange was a whale on dominoes
     and
     to his surprise Cust was pretty hot stuff too.Queer game，
     dominoes.People go
     mad about it.They'll play for hours.That's what Strange and Cust did
     apparently.Cust wanted to go to bed but Strange wouldn't hear of
     it-swore
     they'd keep it up until midnight at least.And that's what they did
     so.They
     separated at ten minutes past midnight.And if Cust was in the
     Whitecross
     Hotel at Eastbourne at ten minutes past midnight on the morning of the
     25th
     he couldn't very well be strangling Betty Barnard on the beach at
     Bexhill
     between midnight and one o'clock."
         "The problem certainly seems insuperable，"said Poirot
     thoughtfully.
         "Decidedly，it gives one to think."
         "It's given Crome something to think about，"said Japp.
         "This man Strange is very positive?"
         "Yes.He's an obstinate devil.And it's difficult to see just where
     the
     flaw is.Supposing Strange is making a mistake and the man wasn't
     Cust-why on
     earth should he say his name is Cust?And the writing in the hotel
     register
     is his all right.You can't say he's an accomplice-homicidal lunatics
     don't
     have accomplices!Did the girl die later?The doctor was quite firm in
     his
     evidence，and anyway it would take some time for Cust to get out of
     the
     hotel at Eastbourne without being seen and get over to Bexhill-about
     fourteen miles away-""It is a problem-yes，"said Poirot.
         "Of course，strictly speaking，it oughtn't to matter.We've got
     Cust on
     the Doncaster murder-the blood-stained coat，the knife-not a loophole
     there.You couldn't bounce any jury into acquitting him.But it spoils a
     pretty case.He did the Doncaster murder.He did the Churston murder.He
     did
     the Andover murder.Then，by hell，he must have done the Bexhill
     murder.But I
     don't see how!"
         He shook his head ang got up.
         "Now's your chance，M.Poirot，"he said.
         "Crome's in a fog.Exert those cellular arrangements of yours I
     used to
     hear so much about.Show us the way he did it."
         Japp departed.
         "What about it，Poirot?"I said."Are the little grey cells equal to
     the
     task?"
         Poirot answered my question by another.
         "Tell me，Hastings，do you consider the case ended?"
         "Well-yes，practically speaking.We've got the man.And we've got
     most of
     the evidence.It's only the trimmings that are needed."
         Poirot shook his head.
         "The case is ended!The case!The case is the man，Hastings.Until we
     know
     all about the man，the mystery is as deep as ever.It is not victory
     because
     we have put him in the dock!"
         "We know a fair amount about him."
         "We know nothing at all!We know where he was born.We know he
     fought in
     the war and received a slight wound in the head and that he was
     discharged
     from the army owing to epilepsy.We know that he lodged with Mrs
     Marbury for
     nearly two years.We know that he was quiet and retiring-the sort of
     man that
     nobody notices.We know that he invented and carried out an intensely
     clever
     scheme of systemized murder.We know that he made certain incredibly
     stupid
     blunders.We know that he killed without pity and quite ruthlessly.We
     know，
     too，that he was kindly enough not to let blame rest on any other
     person for
     the crimes he committed.If he wanted to kill unmolested-how easy to
     let
     other persons suffer for his crimes.Do you not see，Hastings，that the
     man
     is a mass of contradictions?Stupid and cunning，ruthless and
     magnanimous-and
     that there must be some dominating factor that reconciles his two
     natures."
         "Of course，if you treat him like a pyschological study，"I began.
         "What else has this case been since the beginning?All along I have
     been
     groping my way-trying to get to know the murderer.
         And now I realize，Hastings，that I do not know him at all!I am at
     sea."
         "The lust for power-"I began.
         "Yes-that might explain a good deal......But it does not satisfy
     me.There are things I want to know.Why did he commit these murders?Why
     did
     he choose those particular people-?"
         "Alphabetically-"I began.
         "Was Betty Barnard the only person in Bexhill whose name began
     with a B?
         Betty Barnard-I had an idea there......It ought to be true-it must
     be
     true.
         But if so-"He was silent for some time.I did not like to interrupt
     him.
         As a matter of fact，I believe I fell asleep.
         I woke to find Poirot's hand on my shoulder.
         "Mon cher Hastings，"he said affectionately."My good genius."
         I was quite confused by this sudden mark of esteem.
         "It is true，"Poirot insisted.
         "Always-always-you help me-you bring me luck.You inspire me."
         "How have I inspired you this time?"I asked.
         "While I was asking myself certain questions I remembered a remark
     of
     yours-a remark absolutely shimmering in its clear vision.Did I not say
     to
     you once that you had a genius for stating the obvious.It is the
     obvious
     that I have neglected."
         "What is this brilliant remark of mine?"I asked.
         "It makes everything as clear as crystal.I see the answers to all
     my
     questions.The reason for Mrs Ascher(that，it is true，I glimpsed long
     ago)，
     the reason for Sir Carmichael Clarke，the reason for the Doncaster
     murder，
     and finally and supremely important，the reason for Hercule Poirot."
         "Could you kindly explain?"I asked.
         "Not at the moment.I require first a little more information.That
     I can
     get from our Special Legion.And then-then，when I have got the answer
     to a
     certain question，I will go and see ABC.We will be face to face at
     last-A B
     C and Hercule Poirot-the adversaries."
         "And then?"I asked.
         "And then，"said Poirot."We will talk!Je vous assure，
     Hastings-there is
     nothing so dangerous for anyone who has something to hide as
     conversation!
         Speech，so a wise old Frenchman said to me once，is an invention
     of
     man's to prevent him from thinking.It is also an infallible means of
     discovering that which he wishes to hide.A human being，Hastings，
     cannot
     resist the opportunity to reveal himself and express his personality
     which
     conversation gives him.Every time he will give himself away."
         "What do you expect Cust to tell you?"
         Hercule Poirot smiled.
         "A lie，"he said."And by it，I shall know the truth!"

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