Dumb Witness (Hercule Poirot 16)

“The doubt lay in the identity of the murderer—but that is a doubt no longer!”

“Really? You know?”

“Let us say that I shall have definite proof in my hands tomorrow.”

Dr. Donaldson’s eyebrows rose in a slightly ironical fashion.

“Ah,” he said. “Tomorrow! Sometimes, M. Poirot, tomorrow is a long way off.”

“On the contrary,” said Poirot, “I always find that it succeeds today with monotonous regularity.”

Donaldson smiled. He rose.

“I fear I have wasted your time, M. Poirot.”

“Not at all. It is always as well to understand each other.”

With a slight bow Dr. Donaldson left the room.

Twenty-eight

ANOTHER VICTIM

“That is a clever man,” said Poirot thoughtfully.

“It’s rather difficult to know what he is driving at.”

“Yes. He is a little inhuman. But extremely perceptive.”

“That telephone call was from Mrs. Tanios.”

“So I gathered.”

I repeated the message. Poirot nodded approval.

“Good. All marches well. Twenty-four hours, Hastings, and I think we shall know exactly where we stand.”

“I’m still a little fogged. Who exactly do we suspect?”

“I really could not say who you suspect, Hasti

ngs! Everybody in turn, I should imagine!”

“Sometimes I think you like to get me into that state!”

“No, no, I would not amuse myself in such a way.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Poirot shook his head, but somewhat absently. I studied him.

“Is anything the matter?” I asked.

“My friend, I am always nervous towards the end of a case. If anything should go wrong—”

“Is anything likely to go wrong?”

“I do not think so.” He paused—frowning. “I have, I think, provided against every contingency.”