“It was six o’clock when you entered the shop?”
“That’s right—a minute or two after, as a matter of fact. Wanted a packet of Gold Flake. I pushed open the door—”
“It was closed, then?”
“That’s right. I thought shop was shut, maybe. But it wasn’t. I went in, there wasn’t anyone about. I hammered on the counter and waited a bit. Nobody came, so I went out again. That’s all, and you can put it in your pipe and smoke it.”
“You didn’t see the body fallen down behind the counter?”
“No, no more would you have done—unless you was looking for it, maybe.”
“Was there a railway guide lying about?”
“Yes, there was—face downwards. It crossed my mind like that the old woman might have had to go off sudden by train and forgot to lock shop up.”
“Perhaps you picked up the railway guide or moved it along the counter?”
“Didn’t touch the b—thing. I did just what I said.”
“And you did not see anyone leaving the shop before you yourself got there?”
“Didn’t see any such thing. What I say is, why pitch on me—?”
Poirot rose.
“Nobody is pitching upon you—yet. Bonsoir, monsieur.”
He left the man with his mouth open and I followed him.
In the street he consulted his watch.
“With great haste, my friend, we might manage to catch the 7:2. Let us despatch ourselves quickly.”
Eight
THE SECOND LETTER
“Well?” I demanded eagerly.
We were seated in a first-class carriage which we had to ourselves. The train, an express, had just drawn out of Andover.
“The crime,” said Poirot, “was committed by a man of medium height with red hair and a cast in the left eye. He limps slightly on the right foot and has a mole just below the shoulder blade.”
“Poirot?” I cried.
For the moment I was completely taken in. Then the twinkle in my friend’s eye undeceived me.
“Poirot!” I said again, this time in reproach.
“Mon ami, what will you? You fix upon me a look of dog-like devotion and demand of me a pronouncement à la Sherlock Holmes! Now for the truth—I do not know what the murderer looks like, nor where he lives, nor how to set hands upon him.”
“If only he had left some clue,” I murmured.
&nbs
p; “Yes, the clue—it is always the clue that attracts you. Alas that he did not smoke the cigarette and leave the ash, and then step in it with a shoe that has nails of a curious pattern. No—he is not so obliging. But at least, my friend, you have the railway guide. The A B C, that is a clue for you!”
“Do you think he left it by mistake then?”