Death in the Clouds (Hercule Poirot 12)

‘No, as you say it is a theory—a theory only. I hoped to find a certain object on that list. Eh bien, I have found it. It is there; but it seems to point in the wrong direction. The right clue on the wrong person. That means there is much work to be done, and truly there is much that is still obscure to me. I cannot see my way; only certain facts seem to stand out, to arrange themselves in a significant pattern. You do not find it so? No, I see you do not. Let us then each work to his own idea. I have no certainty, I tell you, only a certain suspicion…’

‘I believe you’re just talking through your hat,’ said Japp. He rose. ‘Well, let’s call it a day. I work the London end, you return to Paris, Fournier—and what about our M. Poirot?’

‘I still wish to accompany M. Fournier to Paris—more than ever now.’

‘More than ever—? I’d like to know just what kind of maggot you’ve got in your brain.’

‘Maggot? Ce n’est pas joli, c¸a! ’

Fournier shook hands ceremoniously.

‘I wish you good evening, with many thanks for your delightful hospitality. We will meet then at Croydon tomorrow morning?’

‘Exactly. A demain.’

‘Let us hope,’ said Fournier, ‘that nobody will murder us en route.’

The two detectives departed.

Poirot remained for a time as in a dream. Then he rose, cleared away any traces of disorder, emptied the ashtrays and straightened the chairs.

He went to a side table and picked up a copy of the Sketch. He turned the pages until he came to the one he sought.

‘Two Sun Worshippers,’ it was headed. ‘The Countess of Horbury and Mr Raymond Barraclough at Le Pinet.’ He looked at the two laughing figures in bathing-dresses, their arms entwined.

‘I wonder,’ said Hercule Poirot. ‘One might do something along those lines…Yes, one might.’

Chapter 9

Elise Grandier

The weather on the following day was of so perfect a nature that even Hercule Poirot had to admit that his estomac was perfectly peaceful.

On this occasion they were travelling by the 8.45 Air Service to Paris.

There were seven or eight travellers beside Poirot and Fournier in the compartment, and the Frenchman utilized the journey to make some experiments. He took from his pocket a small piece of bamboo and three times during the journey he raised this to his lips, pointing it in a certain direction. Once he did it bending himself round the corner of his seat, once with his head slightly turned sideways, once when he was returning from the toilet compartment; and on each occasion he caught the eye

of some passenger or other eyeing him with mild astonishment. On the last occasion, indeed, every eye in the car seemed to be fixed upon him.

Fournier sank in his seat discouraged, and was but little cheered by observing Poirot’s open amusement.

‘You are amused, my friend? But you agree one must try experiments?’

‘Evidemment! In truth I admire your thoroughness. There is nothing like ocular demonstration. You play the part of the murderer with blowpipe. The result is perfectly clear. Everybody sees you!’

‘Not everybody.’

‘In a sense, no. On each occasion there is somebody who does not see you; but for a successful murder that is not enough. You must be reasonably sure that nobody will see you.’

‘And that is impossible given ordinary conditions,’ said Fournier. ‘I hold then to my theory that there must have been extraordinary conditions—the psychological moment! There must have been a psychological moment when everyone’s attention was mathematically centred elsewhere.’

‘Our friend Inspector Japp is going to make minute inquiries on that point.’

‘Do you not agree with me, M. Poirot?’

Poirot hesitated a minute, then he said slowly:

‘I agree that there was—that there must have been a psychological reason why nobody saw the murderer…But my ideas are running in a slightly different channel from yours. I feel that in this case mere ocular facts may be deceptive. Close your eyes, my friend, instead of opening them wide. Use the eyes of the brain, not of the body. Let the little grey cells of the mind function…Let it be their task to show you what actually happened.’