Roger Mystery

Chapter 34 The Suspects Gather Together (1)
"Well, my child," said Caroline, standing up, "go upstairs and have a rest. Don't worry, my dear, M. Poirot will take care of everything. You just have to rest easy."

"It's time for me to go back to Finley Manor." Ursula was a little embarrassed.

But Caroline held her firmly.

"Nonsense, now you are in my charge, at least for the time being you have to stay - er, M. Poirot's opinion?"

"That's the best," agreed the little Belgian. "I'd like to invite Miss—I'm sorry, Mrs. Peyton—to a little party I'm calling, at my house, at nine o'clock. Make sure she comes. "

Caroline nodded and walked out with Ursula.After the door closed, Poirot sank back into his chair.

"So far so good," he said, "the case is automatically clearing up."

"But Ralph Paton's situation is much worse," I said sullenly.

Poirot nodded.

"Yeah, but that's to be expected, isn't it?"

I looked at him inexplicably.He leaned against the back of the chair, squinted his eyes, and put his fingertips together.Suddenly, he sighed and shook his head again.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I miss my friend Hastings a lot. He's settled in Argentina now, as I told you before. He's always with me on a big case, and he's been a great help to me—yes, a great help. Big. Because he always finds out the truth without knowing it—of course, of course, he often doesn't notice it himself. Sometimes he says stupid things, and it's those stupid things that make me see! And, he I like to write down the progress of the case, and this habit is also very interesting.”

I cough softly, a little embarrassed.

"Speaking of which—" I hesitated to speak.

Poirot sat up straight, his eyes shining.

"What? What do you want to say?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, I've read a few books by Captain Hastings, and I thought, why not give it a try? Otherwise, I'll regret it for the rest of my life. After all, such an opportunity is rare. Maybe this time I can participate in solving the case."

Embarrassed and increasingly incoherent, I stammered through the words.

Poirot jumped up. I was afraid he would give me a French hug, but he refrained.

"Great—you recorded all your thoughts during the investigation?"

I nodded.

"Excellent!" cried Poirot. "Show me, right now."

His request was so sudden that I was a little caught off guard, and it took me a long time to recall that some of the details I wrote down might not be appropriate.

"Don't mind it too much," I stammered, "in some places - er - I may have gotten too personal."

"Oh! That's perfectly understandable. You've made me more than once ludicrous, even grotesque, haven't you? Never mind that Hastings can be a little too curt at times. I've never cared much for little things like that."

Still undecided, I handed him a jumble of manuscripts from a desk drawer.Considering that these texts may be published in the future, I have divided them into several chapters, and I just updated the part about Miss Russell's visit last night.So there were twenty chapters in total for Poirot.

These manuscripts were left for Poirot to read for himself.

The destination of the outpatient visit today is relatively far away, and it was past eight o'clock in the evening when I returned home.I was greeted with a hot dinner.My sister said that Poirot had dinner with her at 07:30, after which Poirot went to my "studio" and continued to read the manuscript.

"James," said the sister, "you didn't say anything against me in the manuscript, did you?"

I was so startled that my jaw almost dropped.I really didn't pay attention to this problem when I wrote the manuscript.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Caroline glanced at my thoughts, "Mr. Poirot can tell right from wrong. He understands me better than you."

I walked into the studio and saw Poirot sitting by the window with manuscripts neatly stacked on the chair beside him.He put one hand on the manuscript and said, "Very well, I want to congratulate you—for your humility!"

"Oh!" I was taken aback.

"And your restraint," he added.

I said "Oh!"

"Hastings doesn't write like you," my friend continued. "There are many 'I's on every page, and his thoughts and actions can be seen at a glance. You put yourself in the background and only a few appearances—and limited to depicting everyday life. Am I right?"

He was looking at me so brightly that I blushed a little.

"What do you think of this manuscript?" I asked nervously.

"Then I'll just say it straight?"

"Go ahead."

Poirot dropped his joking air.

"Meticulous and precise," he said kindly. "You have recorded the facts of the case as it happened, but you have said little about your own part in it."

"Is it helpful to you?"

"Yes, it will be of great help. Let's go, it's time to go to my house. The show is about to begin, and the stage must be set up first."

Caroline stood guard at the porch, presumably hoping that Poirot would invite her to go with her.But Poirot shrugged it off very ably.

"I wish you could be there, ma'am," he said regretfully, "but the timing is not right. You know, here tonight is full of suspects, and from among them I want to find out who killed Ai. Mister Croyd's murderer."

"Are you serious?" I was very skeptical.

"It seems that you don't believe it," replied Poirot coldly. "You haven't learned what Hercule Poirot is really capable of."

Ursula then came downstairs.

"Ready, child?" said Poirot. "Well, come to my house together. Miss Caroline, thank you very much for taking such good care of her. Good night."

Caroline stood on the doorstep, watching us off, like a puppy begging its master to take it for a walk and being rebuffed.

The living room in "Larch" has been furnished.There are various syrupy drinks and glasses on the table, as well as a plate of biscuits.The servants brought several chairs from other rooms.

Poirot was busy adjusting the furnishings in the room, dragging out a chair here, moving a lamp there, and occasionally stooping to level the cushions on the floor.He took particular care with the lighting, concentrating the light on one side of the room where the chairs are concentrated, and very dimly on the other side - the side I'm sure he'll be sitting on.

Ursula and I looked on.It didn't take long for the doorbell to ring.

"Here they are," said Poirot. "Very well, ready."

The door opened, and the guests from Finley Manor filed in.Poirot turned to Mrs Ackroyd and Flora.

"It's a great honor to have you both," said he. "Major Brant and Mr. Raymond are also welcome."

The secretary was as relaxed and cheerful as usual.

"What ideas do you have?" He laughed. "Advanced scientific instruments? A lie detector that wraps around the wrist to measure the pulse? You must have prepared a new invention, right?"

"I've seen that sort of thing in the papers," admitted Poirot, "but I'm an old man who knows the old way, and all I need is my little gray cells. So let's begin—but first I want to announce something to everyone."

He took Ursula by the hand, and drew her before the crowd.

"This is Mrs. Ralph Paton. She and Captain Paton were married last March."

Mrs. Ackroyd exclaimed in a low voice: "Ralph! Married! This March! Oh! It's ridiculous, how could he?" She stared at Ursula as if she had never known her, "and Bonn Married?" she said. "I can't believe that, M. Poirot."

Ursula, flushed, was about to speak, but Flora cut her off.

Flora ran quickly to Ursula's side, and took her arm.

"Please do forgive our astonishment," she said. "We've all been kept under wraps. You and Ralph really do keep secrets. I—I wish you all the best."

"It's very kind of you, Miss Ackroyd," said Ursula in a low voice. "You have every reason to be angry. Ralph is so unreliable—especially with you."

"Don't worry," Flora reassured her, patting her on the arm. "Ralph has no choice but to go this way. It might be inevitable if it were me. But he should trust me and share his secrets with me." Yes, I won't embarrass him."

Poirot tapped the table and cleared his throat gravely.

"The conference is about to begin," said Flora. "Mr. Poirot reminds us not to talk any more. Just tell me one more thing: where is Ralph? If anyone knows, it must be you."

"But I don't know," Ursula was about to cry. "Really, I don't."

"Didn't he be arrested in Liverpool?" asked Raymond. "The papers say it."

"He's not at Liverpool," replied Poirot at once.

"Actually, no one knows his whereabouts." I said.

"Except for Hercule Poirot, eh?" said Raymond.

To his joke, Poirot responded sternly: "Remember, I know everything."

Raymond raised an eyebrow.

"Know everything?" He whistled, "Yo! The tone is not small."

"Can you really guess where Ralph Paton is hiding?" I doubt it too.

"'guess' in your terms, 'know' in my terms, my friend."

"In Cranchester?" I gambled.

"No," said Poirot solemnly, "not at Cranchester."

He stopped talking and made a gesture, and everyone took their seats.As soon as he was seated firmly, the door opened again, and it was Parker and Miss Russell who came, and they sat down near the door.

"There," said Poirot, "everyone is there."

He could tell he was satisfied.As soon as he finished speaking, a trace of uneasiness flashed across the faces of everyone on the opposite side, as if this room was a trap—a trap that made it difficult for people to fly.

(End of this chapter)