The Regatta Mystery and Other Stories (Hercule Poirot 21)

Poirot rose to his feet. "Is it permitted," he

asked, "that I see the room where the tragedy oc-curred?''

"Certainly. Dr. Stillingfleet--"

The doctor accompanied Poirot upstairs.

Benedict Farley's room was a much larger one

than the secretary's next door. It was luxuriously

furnished with deep leather-covered armchairs, a

thick pile carpet, and a superb outsize writing-desk.

Poirot passed behind the latter to where a dark

stain on the carpet showed just before the win-dow.

He remembered the millionaire saying, "At

twenty-eight minutes past three I open the second

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drawer down on the right of my desk, take out the

revolver that I keep there, load it, and walk over

to the window. And then--and then I shoot my-self."

He nodded slowly. Then he said:

"The window was open like this?"

"Yes. But nobody could have got in that way."

Poirot put his head out. There was no sill or

parapet and no pipes near. Not even a cat could

have gained access that way. Opposite rose the

blank wall of the factory, a dead wall with no win-dows

in it.

Stillingfleet said, "Funny room for a rich man

to choose as his own sanctum with that outlook.

It's like looking out on to a prison wall."

"Yes," said Poirot. He drew his head in and

stared at the expanse of solid brick. "I think," he