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“Oho, he must be caught!” cried Mrs. Mercado. “It would be unbearable if he got away!”
I noticed the little foreigner’s eyes rest on her appraisingly.
“He? Who is he, madame?” he asked.
“Why, the murderer, of course.”
“Ah! the murderer,” said Hercule Poirot.
He spoke as though the murderer was of no consequence at all!
We all stared at him. He looked from one face to another.
“It is likely, I think,” he said, “that you have none of you been brought in contact with a case of murder before?”
There was a general murmur of assent.
Hercule Poirot smiled.
“It is clear, therefore, that you do not understand the A B C of the position. There are unpleasantnesses! Yes, there are a lot of unpleasantnesses. To begin with, there is suspicion.”
“Suspicion?”
It was Miss Johnson who spoke. Mr. Poirot looked at her thoughtfully. I had an idea that he regarded her with approval. He looked as though he were thinking: “Here is a sensible, intelligent person!”
“Yes, mademoiselle,” he said. “Suspicion! Let us not make the bones about it. You are all under suspicion here in this house. The cook, the house-boy, the scullion, the potboy—yes, and all the members of the expedition too.”
Mrs. Mercado started up, her face working.
“How dare you? How dare you say such a thing? This is odious—unbearable! Dr. Leidner—you can’t sit here and let this man—let this man—”
Dr. Leidner said wearily: “Please try and be calm, Marie.”
Mr. Mercado stood up too. His hands were shaking and his eyes were bloodshot.
“I agree. It is an outrage—an insult—”
“No, no,” said Mr. Poirot. “I do not insult you. I merely ask you all to face facts. In a house where murder has been committed, every inmate comes in for a certain share of suspicion. I ask you what evidence is there that the murderer came from outside at all?”
Mrs. Mercado cried: “But of course he did! It stands to reason! Why—” She stopped and said more slowly, “Anything else would be incredible!”
“You are doubtless correct, madame,” said Poirot with a bow. “I explain to you only how the matter must be approached. First I assure myself of the fact that everyone in this room is innocent. After that I seek the murderer elsewhere.”
“Is it not possible that that may be a little late in the day?” asked Father Lavigny suavely.
“The tortoise, mon père, overtook the hare.”
Father Lavigny shrugged his shoulders.
“We are in your hands,” he said resignedly. “Convince yourself as soon as may be of our innocence in this terrible business.”
“As rapidly as possible. It was my duty to make the position clear to you, so that you may not resent the impertinence of any questions I may have to ask. Perhaps, mon pe“re, the Church will set an example?”
“Ask any questions you please of me,” said Father Lavigny gravely.
“This is your first season out here?”
“Yes.”
