The A.B.C. Murders (Hercule Poirot 13)

“How is Lady Clarke?” he demanded.

I was admiring the faint colour in Thora Grey’s cheeks and almost missed Clarke’s reply.

“Pretty bad. By the way, M. Poirot, I wonder if you could see your way to running down to Devon and paying her a visit? She expressed a desire to see you before I left. Of course, she often can’t see people for a couple of days at a time, but if you would risk that—at my expense, of course.”

“Certainly, Mr. Clarke. Shall we say the day after tomorrow?”

“Good. I’ll let nurse know and she’ll arrange the dope accordingly.”

“For you, my child,” said Poirot, turning to Mary, “I think you might perhaps do good work in Andover. Try the children.”

“The children?”

“Yes. Children will not chat readily to outsiders. But you are known in the street where your aunt lived. There were a good many children playing about. They may have noticed who went in and out of your aunt’s shop.”

“What about Miss Grey and myself?” asked Clarke. “That is, if I’m not to go to Bexhill.”

“M. Poirot,” said Thora Grey, “what was the postmark on the third letter?”

“Putney, mademoiselle.”

She said thoughtfully: “SW15, Putney, that is right, is it not?”

“For a wonder, the newspapers printed it correctly.”

“That seems to point to A B C being a Londoner.”

“On the face of it, yes.”

“One ought to be able to draw him,” said Clarke. “M. Poirot, how would it be if I inserted an advertisement—something after these lines: A B C. Urgent, H.P. close on your track. A hundred for my silence. X.Y.Z. Nothing quite so crude as that—but you see the idea. It might draw him.”

“It is a possibility—yes.”

“Might induce him to try and have a shot at me.”

“I think it’s very dangerous and silly,” said Thora Grey sharply.

“What about it, M. Poirot?”

“It can do no harm to try. I think myself that A B C will be too cunning to reply.” Poirot smiled a little. “I see, Mr. Clarke, that you are—if I may say so without being offensive—still a boy at heart.”

Franklin Clarke looked a little abashed.

“Well,” he said, consulting his notebook. “We’re making a start.

A—Miss Barnard and Milly Higley.

B—Mr. Fraser and Miss Higley.

C—Children in Andover.

D—Advertisement.

“I don’t feel any of it is much good, but it will be something to do whilst waiting.”

He got up and a few minutes later the meeting had dispersed.

Nineteen