Twenty seven interview with Morrel. When Knighton left Catherine, he went in search of Rcule Poirot, whom he found in the rooms, jauntily placing the minimum steak on the even numbers. As Knighton joined him, the number thirty three turned up and Poirot's steak was swept away. Bad luck, said Knighton. Are you going to stake again? Puaro shook his head at not at present. Do you feel the fascination of gambling, asked Knighton curiously. Not at
roulette. Knighton shot a swift glance at him. His own face became troubled. He spoke haltingly, with a touch of deference. I wonder are you busy, Monsieur Poirot. There is something I would like to ask you about. I am at your disposal. Shall we go outside? It is pleasant in the sunshine. They strolled out together and Knighton drew a deep breath. I love the Riviera, he said. I came here first twelve years ago during the war, when I was sent to Lady Tamplin's hospital. It was
like paradise coming from Flanders to this. It must have been, said Poirot, how long ago the war seems now, mused Knighton. They walked on in silence for some little way. You have something on your mind, said Poirot. Knighton looked at him in some surprise. You are quite right, he confessed. I don't know how you knew it, though it showed itself only too plainly, said Poirot dryly. I did not know that I was so transparent. It is my business to observe the physiognomy, the little man
explained with dignity. I will tell you, Monsieur Poirot, you have heard of this dancer, woman Morrel, She who is the cher ami of Monsieur Derrick Kettering. Yes, that is the one. And knowing this, you will understand that mister Vanalden is naturally prejudiced against her. She wrote to him asking for an interview. He told me to dictate a curt refusal, which of course I did. This morning she came to the hotel and sent up her card, saying that it was urgent and vital that she should see mister
Vanalden at once. You interest me, said Poirot. Mister Vanalden was furious. He told me what message to send down to her. I ventured to disagree with him. It seemed to me both likely and probable that this woman morrel might give us valuable information. We know that she was on the Blue train, and she may have seen or heard something that it might be vital for us to know. Don't you agree with me, Monsieur Poirot, I do, said Poirot dryly. Monsieur Vanalden, if I may say so,
behaved exceedingly foolishly. I am glad you take that view of the matter, said the secretary. Now I am going to tell you something, Monsieur Poirot. So strongly did I feel the unwisdom of mister van Alden's attitude that I went down privately and had an interview with the lady Abienne. The difficulty was that she insisted on seeing mister Vanlden himself. I softened his message as much as I possibly could. In fact, to be candid, I gave it
in a very different form. I said that mister Vanalden was too busy to see her at present, but that she might make any communication she wished to me that, however, she could not bring herself to do, and she left without saying anything further. But I have a strong impression, Monsieur Poirot, that that woman knows something. This is serious, said Poirot quietly. You know where she is staying. Yes, Knighton mentioned the name of the
hotel, good, said Poirot. We will go there immediately. The secondcretary looked doubtful, and mister van Alden he queried doubtfully. Monsieur van Alden is an obstinate man, said Poirot dryly. I do not argue with obstinate men. I act in spite of them. We will go and see the lady immediately. I will tell her that you are empowered by Monsieur van Alden to act for him, and you will guard yourself well from contradicting me. Knighton
still looked slightly doubtful, but Poiret took no notice of his hesitation. At the hotel, they were told that Mademoiselle was in, and Poirot sent up both his and Knighton's cards with from mister van Alden penciled upon them. Word came down that Mademoiselle Morrel would receive them When they were ushered into the dancer's apartments. Poirot immediately took the lead Mademoiselle, he murmured, bowing very low, We are here on behalf of Monsieur van Alden. Ah, and why
did he not come himself? He is indisposed, said Poirot, mendaciously. The Riviera throat. It has him in its grip. But me I am empowered to act for him, as is Major knighton his secretary, unless, of course, Mademoiselle would prefer to wait a fortnight or so. If there was one thing of which Poirot was tolerably certain, it was that to a temperament such as Morrel's, the mere word weight was anathema. Abien, I will speak, Monsieur, she cried. I have been patient, I have
held my hand, and for what that I should be insulted? Yes, insulted. Ah does he think to treat Morrel like that? To throw her off like an old glove? I tell you, never has a man tired of me? Always it is I who tire of them. She paced up and down the room, her slender body trembling with rage. A small table impeded her free passage, and she flung it from her into a corner,
where it splintered against the wall. That is what I will do to him, she cried, and that picking up a glass bowl filled with lilies, she flung it into the grate, where it smashed into a hundred pieces. Knighton was looking at her with cold British disapproval. He felt embarrassed and ill at ease. Poirot, on the other hand, with twinkling eyes, was thoroughly enjoying the scene. Ah, it is magnificent, he cried, It can be seen. Madame has a temperament. I am an artist, said
Morrel. Every artist has a temperament. I told Derek to beware, and he would not listen. She whirled round on Poirot. Suddenly, it is true. Is it not that he wants to marry that English miss? Pouarot coughed an medit. He murmured that he adores her past Passionately, Morrel came towards them. He murdered his wife. She screamed, there now you have it. He told me beforehand that he meant to do it. He had got to an impasse. Zut he took the easiest way out. You say
that nim Kettering murdered his wife. Yes, yes, yes, have I not told you so? The police murmured Poirot will need proof of that er statement. I tell you I saw him come out of her compartment that night on the train. When asked, Poirot sharply, just before the train reached Leon. You will swear to that, Mademoiselle. It was a different Poirot who spoke now, sharp and decisive. Yes, there was a moment's silence. Morrel was panting, and her eyes, half defiant, half frightened,
went from the face of one man to the other. This is a serious matter, Mademoiselle, said the detective. You realize how serious, sir, certainly I do. That is well, said Poirot. Then you understand, Mademoiselle, that no time must be lost. You will perhaps accompany us immediately to the office of the examining magistrate. Morel was taken aback. She hesitated, but as Poirot had foreseen, she had no loophole for escape. Very well, she muttered, I will fetch a coat. Left alone, together,
Poirot and Knight in exchange glances. It is necessary to act. Well, how do you say it? The iron is hot, murmured Poirot. She is temperamental. In an hour's time, maybe she will repent, and she will wish to draw back. We must prevent that at all costs. Morrel reappeared, wrapped in a sand colored velvet wrap trimmed with leopard skin. She looked not altogether unlike a leopardess, tawny and dangerous, her eyes still
flashed with anger and determination. They found Monsieur co and the examining magistrate together a few brief introductory words from Poirot and Mademoiselle, Morrel was courteously entreated to tell her tale. This she did in much the same words as she had done to Knighton and Poirot, though with far more soberness of manner. This is an extraordinary story, Mademoiselle, said Monsieur Carrege slowly. He leant back in his chair, adjusted his pansnet, and looked keenly and searchingly at the
dancer through them. You wish us to believe, Monsieur Cattering actually boasted of the crime to you beforehand. Yes, yes, she was too healthy, he said. If she were to die, it must be an accident. He would arrange it. All. You are aware, Mademoiselle, said Monsieur Correage, sternly, that you are making yourself out to be an accessory before the fact me, but not the least in the world, monsieur. Not for a moment did I take that statement seria? Ah? No, indeed
I know, men, monsieur, they say many wild things. It would be an odd state of affairs if one were to take all they said. Oh, Pierre de la Lettre, the examining magistrate raised his eyebrows. We are to take it then, that you regarded Monsieur Kettering's threats as mere idle words. May I ask, mademoiselle, what made you throw up your engagements in London and come out to the Riviera. Morrel looked at him with melting black eyes. I wished to be with the man I loved, she said,
simply. Was it so unnatural? Poirot interpolated a question gently, Was it, then, at mere Kettering's wish that you accompanied him to Niice? Morrel seemed to find a little difficulty in answering this. She hesitated perceptibly before she spoke. When she did, it was with a haughty indifference of manner in such matters. I please myself, monsieur. She said that the answer was not an answer at all. Was noted by all three men. They
said nothing. When were you first convinced that mister Kettering had murdered his wife? As I tell you, Monsieur, I saw Monsieur Kettering come out of his wife's compartment just before the train drew into Leon. There was a look on his face. Ah. At the moment, I could not understand it, a look haunted and terrible. I shall never forget it. Her voice
rose shrilly, and she flung out her arms in an extravagant gesture. Quite so, said Monsieur Carragg afterwards, when I found that Madame Kettering was dead when the train left Lyon's, then then I knew. And still you did not go to the police, Mademoiselle, said the commissary mildly. Morrel glanced at him superbly. She was clearly enjoying herself in the role she was playing. Shall I betray my lover? She asked? Ah, No, do not ask a woman to do that. Yet now, hinted Monsieur co now
it is different. He has betrayed me. Shall I suffer that? In silence? The examining magistrate checked her. Quite so, Quite so, he murmured soothingly. And now, mademoiselle, perhaps you will read over the statement of what you have told us. See that it is correct, and sign it. Morrel wasted no time on the document. Yes, yes, she said, it is correct. She rose to her feet. You require me no longer, monsieur at present. No, Mademoiselle and Derek will be arrested
at once. Mademoiselle Morrel laughed cruelly and drew her fur draperies closer about her. He should have thought of this before he insulted me, She cried. There is one little matter, Poirot coughed apologetically, Just a matter of detail. Yes, what makes you think Madame Catering was dead when the train left Leon Marrirelle stared, But she was dead, was she? Yes? Of course I she came to an abrupt stop. Poiret was regarding her intently,
and he saw the weary look that came into her eyes. I have been told so. Everybody says so, oh, said Poirot. I was not aware that the fact had been mentioned. Outside the examining magistrate's office, Morrel appeared somewhat discomposed. One hears those things, she said, vaguely, They get about. Somebody told me. I can't remember who it was. She moved to the door. Monsieur Co sprang forward to open it for her, and as he did so, Poiret's voice rose gently once more. And the
jewels. Pardon, mademoiselle, can you tell me anything about those? The jewels? What jewels? The rubies of Catherine the Great? Since you hear so much, you must have heard heard of them. I know nothing about any jewels, said Morrel sharply. She went out, closing the door behind her. Monsieur Co came back to his chair the examining magistrate's Sighe what a fury, he said. But diabeman chic, I wonder if she is telling the truth. I think so. There is some truth in her story,
certainly, said Poiot. We have confirmation of it from miss Gray. She was looking down the corridor a short time before the train reached Lyon, and she saw as she catering go into his wife's compartment. The case against him seems quite clear, said the commissary, sighing. It is a thousand pities. He murmured, how do you mean, asked Poio. It has been the ambition of my life to lay the Comte de la Roche by the heels this time, Ma foi I thought we had got him this other. It
is not nearly so satisfactory. Monster carregeubbed his nose. If anything goes wrong, he observed cautiously, it will be most awkward. Mere kettering is of the aristocracy. It will get into the newspapers if we have made a mistake. He shrugged his shoulders forebodingly. The jewels, now, said the Commissary, What do you think he has done with them? He took them for a plant, of course, said Monsieur Koreig. They must have been a
great inconvenience to him, and very awkward to dispose of. Poirot smiled, I have an idea of my own about the jewels. Tell me, monsieur, what do you know of a man called the Marquis. The Commissary leant forward excitedly. The Marquis, he said, the Marquis. Do you think he has mixed up in this affair? Monsieur Poirot, I ask you what you know of him? The Commissary made an expressive grimace. Not as much as we should like to, he observed, ruefully. He works behind the
scenes. You understand. He has underlings who do his dirty work for him. But he is some one high up that we are sure of. He does not come from the criminal classes a Frenchman, yea s at least we believe so, but we are not sure. He has worked in France, in England, in America. There was a series of robberies in Switzerland last autumn which were laid at his door. By all accounts, he is a grand signeur, speaking French and English with equal perfection, and his origin is
a mystery. Poirot nodded and rose to take his departure. Can you tell us nothing more, monsieur Poirot, urged the commissary At present, No, said Poirot, but I may have news awaiting me at my hotel. Monsieur Carrege looked uncomfortable. If the Marquise is concerned in this, he began, and then stopped. It upsets our ideas complained Monsieur co It does not upset mine Poirot. On the contrary, I think it agrees with them very well. Au revoir, monsieur. If news of any importance comes to me,
I will communicate it to you immediately. He walked back to his hotel with a grave face. In his absence, a telegram had come to him. Taking a paper cutter from his pocket, he slid it open. It was a long telegram, and he read it over twice before slowly putting it in his pocket. Upstairs, George was awaiting his master. I am fatigued, George, much fatigued. Will you order for me a small pot of chocolate?
The chocolate was duly ordered and brought, and George said it at the little table at his master's elbow, as he was preparing to retire, Poirot spoke, I believe, George, that you have a good knowledge of the English aristocracy, murmured Poirot. George smiled apologetically. I think that I might say that I have, sir, he replied, I suppose that it is your opinion, George, that criminals are invariably drawn from the lower orders, not always, sir. There was great trouble with one of the Duke of
Deviz's younger sons. He left eaten under a cloud, and after that he caused great anxiety on several occasions. The police would not accept the view that it was kleptomania. A very clever young gentleman, sir, but vicious through and through, if you take my meaning. His grace shipped him to Australia, and I hear he was convicted out there under another name. Very odd, sir, but there it is. The young gentleman. I need hardly
say was not in want financially. Poirat nodded his head slowly. Love of excitement, he murmured, And a little kink in the brain somewhere, I wonder now. He drew out the telegram from his pocket and read it again. Then there was Lady Mary Fox's daughter, continued the valet, in a mood of reminiscence. Swindle trades people something shocking she did, very worrying to the best families, if I may say so, And there are many other
queer cases. I could mention. You have a wide experience, George murmured Poirot. I often wonder, having lived so exclusively with titled families, that you demean yourself by coming as a valet to me. I put it down to love of excitement on your part. Not exactly, sir, said George. I happened to see in society snippets that you had been received at Buckingham Palace. That was just when I was looking for a new situation, His majesty, so it said, had been most gracious and friendly, and thought
very highly of your abilities. Ah, said Poirot, one always likes to know the reason for things. He remained in thought for a few moments, and then said, you rang up Mademoiselle Popopoulos. Yes, sir, she and her father will be pleased to dine with you to night, Ah, said Poirot thoughtfully. He drank off his chocolate, set the cup and saucer neatly in the middle of the tray, and spoke gently, more to himself
than to the valet. The squirrel, my good Georges collects nuts. He stores them up in the autumn so that they may be of advantage to him later. To make a success of humanity, Georges, we must profit by the lessons of those below us. In the animal kingdom. I have always done so. I have been the cat watching at the mouse hole. I have been the good dog, following up the scent and not taking my nose from the trail. And also, my good Georges, I have been the
squirrel. I have stored away the little fact here, the little fact there. I go now to my store, and I take out one particular nut, a nut that I stored away. Let me see, seventeen years ago you follow me, Georges. I should hardly have thought, Sir, said George, that nuts would have kept so long as that, though I know one can do wonders with preserving bottles. Pirat looked at him and smiled.