فصل 24

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

‘I Am Afraid’

Anne Morisot had been at the scene of the crime. Poirot closed his eyes tightly. ‘So, I must see how this changes my thoughts on the case.’

‘I remember her,’ said Jane. ‘A tall, dark girl. Lady Horbury called her Madeleine. She sent her to the end of the plane to fetch her a nail file.’

‘You mean,’ said Fournier, ‘this girl went past the seat where her mother was sitting?’

‘Yes.’

‘Motive and opportunity… Yes, it is all there.’ Fournier banged the table with his hand. ‘But why did no one mention this before? Why was she not included with the other suspects?’

‘Perhaps because it happened so early? The plane had only just left Le Bourget; and Giselle was alive and well for at least an hour after that.’

Poirot put his head into his hands. ‘I must think,’ he groaned. ‘Can it be possible that my ideas have been completely wrong?’

‘My friend,’ said Fournier, ‘such things happen. Sometimes one must admit one’s mistakes and begin again.’

‘True,’ agreed Poirot. ‘Perhaps I thought one particular clue was too important. If I had been wrong - if the item was there just by chance… then, yes, I have been completely wrong.’

‘For the moment,’ said Fournier, ‘we must not make Anne Morisot suspicious. She does not know that you have recognized her. We know the hotel at which she is staying and we can keep in touch with her through Thibault. We have identified both opportunity and motive. As for the snake poison - well, the American who bought the blowpipe and bribed Jules Perrot at United Airlines might be the husband, Richards. We have only her word that he is in the States.’

‘Yes, the husband. Ah, wait - wait!’ Poirot tightened his hands around his head. Then he let go and sat up very straight. ‘If Anne Morisot is innocent, why did she hide the fact that she was Lady Horbury’s maid? Anne Morisot has lied. But, if my first theory was correct, would that fit with Anne Morisot’s lie? It might, it might… But if I am correct, then Anne Morisot should not have been on the plane at all.’ Suddenly, he cried. ‘Of course! That’s it! And it should be simple to find out.’ He rose from the table.

‘What now, my friend?’ asked Fournier.

‘I must telephone Lady Horbury in Grosvenor Square. I hope I am lucky enough to find her at home.’

Poirot was in luck. Lady Horbury was at home.

‘Lady Horbury? It is Hercule Poirot, calling from Paris. No, no, I am not calling about that at all. Can you tell me, please, when you go from Paris to England by air, does your maid usually go with you, or does she go by train? By train… And on that particular day? I see. Yes, I see. Au revoir, goodbye. Thank you.’

He replaced the receiver and turned to Fournier. ‘Lady Horbury’s maid usually travelled by train and boat. On the day of Giselle’s murder Lady Horbury decided at the last moment that it would be better if Madeleine went by air, too.’ He took the Frenchman by the arm. ‘We must go to her hotel. If I am correct, Anne Morisot is in great danger!’

Poirot and Fournier hurried to the hotel where Anne Morisot was staying. Poirot asked at the reception desk for Mrs Richards, but he was told that she had left half an hour before. Apparently, an American gentleman had called to see the lady. She had seemed surprised to see him. They had eaten lunch together, and then the lady had her luggage brought down, and ordered a taxi to the Gave du Nord railway station.

‘The Gare du Nord,’ said Fournier, ‘is the station from which you can catch a train to the port of Boulogne. From there, I think she will probably board a boat and sail to England. We must telephone Boulogne and warn them to look for her - and we must also try and find that taxi!’

At five o’clock, Jane saw Poirot coming towards her across the hotel lounge. She was going to complain about being left alone at the lunch table, but she stopped when she saw the expression on his face. ‘What is it?’ she asked, with concern.

‘Life is terrible, Mademoiselle,’ he sighed. ‘When the train arrived in Boulogne they found Anne Morisot dead in a first- class carriage. In her hand was a bottle which had contained hydrocyanic acid.’

‘Oh! Was it suicide?’

‘The police think so.’

‘And you?’

Poirot shrugged his shoulders. ‘What else could it be?’