One, Two, Buckle My Shoe (Hercule Poirot 23)

“When you have only a small place you’ve got to make the most of it. Yo

u can’t afford to make mistakes in the planning.”

Hercule Poirot nodded.

Barnes went on:

“I see you’ve got your man?”

“Frank Carter?”

“Yes. I’m rather surprised, really.”

“You did not think that it was, so to speak, a private murder?”

“No. Frankly I didn’t. What with Amberiotis and Alistair Blunt—I made sure that it was one of these Espionage or Counter-Espionage mix-ups.”

“That is the view you expounded to me at our first meeting.”

“I know. I was quite sure of it at the time.”

Poirot said slowly:

“But you were wrong.”

“Yes. Don’t rub it in. The trouble is, one goes by one’s own experience. I’ve been mixed-up in that sort of thing so much I suppose I’m inclined to see it everywhere.”

Poirot said:

“You have observed in your time a conjurer offer a card, have you not? What is called—forcing a card?”

“Yes, of course.”

“That is what was done here. Every time that one thinks of a private reason for Morley’s death, hey presto—the card is forced on one. Amberiotis, Alistair Blunt, the unsettled state of politics—of the country—” He shrugged his shoulders. “As for you, Mr. Barnes, you did more to mislead me than anybody.”

“Oh, I say, Poirot, I’m sorry. I suppose that’s true.”

“You were in a position to know, you see. So your words carried weight.”

“Well—I believed what I said. That’s the only apology I can make.”

He paused and sighed.

“And all the time, it was a purely private motive?”

“Exactly. It has taken me a long time to see the reason for the murder—although I had one very definite piece of luck.”

“What was that?”

“A fragment of conversation. Really a very illuminating fragment if only I had had the sense to realize its significance at the time.”

Mr. Barnes scratched his nose thoughtfully with the trowel. A small piece of earth adhered to the side of his nose.

“Being rather cryptic, aren’t you?” he asked genially.

Hercule Poirot shrugged his shoulders. He said:

“I am, perhaps, aggrieved that you were not more frank with me.”