ALL EXCLAIMING POIROT: Hastings, my friend, tell me.

To blow up the English Parliament, was it a sin or a noble deed?

It's no good asking me, old son.

I was never much of a one for politics.

HASTINGS: Where's Mrs Japp tonight, then?

She can't abide fireworks.

The noise disturbs the delicate sensibilities of many ladies.

Maybe.

Maybe.

I think it's more that she doesn't like to see people enjoying themselves.

ALL GASPING FIREWORKS EXPLODE HASTINGS: What a good night for a murder, eh?

If somebody wanted to kill anybody, nobody would know if it was a gunshot or a firework.

POIROT: But not so good, my friend, if your chosen method is strangulation.

That's true.

JAPP: Or poisoning, come to that.

Yes.

You're pulling my leg!

Yes, Hastings, we pull ever so gently the leg.

Well, I still think it's a jolly good night for a murder.

MAN LAUGHS Anyway, I'll leave you here.

This is where I garage my car.

Good night, Chief Inspector.

Good night, Poirot.

- Good night, Captain Hastings.

- A demain.

Good night.

LAUGHTER Steady on, lads!

BOTH CHUCKLE LAUGHTER DOG BARKING You won't forget your dental appointment at eleven, will you, Mr Poirot?

Hercule Poirot does not need to go to the dentist, Miss Lemon.

You've put it off once already.

My teeth are perfection.

It is sacrilege to tamper with them.

But why do we not do something about my collars?

That laundry is in the pay of my enemies.

TELEPHONE RINGS Hercule Poirot's residence.

JAPP: 'Poirot, please.

Japp here.'

Chief Inspector Japp.

He's here.

Good morning, Chief Inspector Japp.

JAPP: 'Here's a strange thing, Poirot.'

You remember how we stopped at the end of Bardsley Garden Mews last night, where Hastings keeps his car?

And Hastings was saying about how the sound of a shot could be covered by the noise of a firework?

- 'Yes.'

- Well, someone did it.

Really?

'Not murder.

Looks like suicide.'

But they're not entirely happy about it.

'I'll meet you there in one hour.'

PHONE LINE DISCONNECTS Cancel all my appointments for this morning, Miss Lemon.

But I... JAPP: Good of you to spare the time, Poirot.

POIROT: No, no, no.

Not at all.

But I hope you appreciate the urgent business I cancelled to be here.

- Oh, really?

- Yes.

The dead woman is a Mrs Allen.

She shared the house with a friend, Miss Plenderleith, who is a professional photographer or something along those lines.

Miss Plenderleith was away in the country.

When she came home this morning, she finds her friend's door locked.

She knocks and calls but can't get any answer.

In the end, she gets really alarmed and calls the police.

At ten forty-five, our lads break the door down.

There's Mrs Allen on the floor, shot through the head.

Right, Brett, what's the trouble?

BRETT: Well, the position's all right.

If she shot herself, she'd slip from the chair into just that position.

- But?

- The prints on the gun, sir.

Bit of a thumbprint and forefinger.

That's all.

What you'd get from someone trying to press the dead woman's fingers on the gun and not doing it very well.

POIROT SNIFFS Gun in left hand, wound on the left side.

Presumably, she was left-handed.

It looks as though she's holding the gun, but, in fact, she isn't.

It's just sort of lying in her hand.

Anything else?

The window was closed and bolted, and the door was locked.

We haven't been able to find the key.

What's this?

Might mean something.

Anything strike you?

I was looking at the watch.

JAPP: Hmm.

Expensive by the look of it.

POIROT: Tuesday, November 5th.

How long's she been dead?

She died at about eleven-thirty last night.

No sign of any note having been written.

No.

Seems to me, all we have to go on at the moment is the missing key.

If the key was here, we wouldn't hesitate.

Suicide, we'd say.

This must be a terrible shock to you, Miss Plenderleith.

I still can't believe it.

We'll be as brief as possible.

You've told Inspector Jameson how you found the body when you came in.

You were away for the weekend I take it?

Yes.

Since Friday noon.

Pardon, mademoiselle.

When you found the door locked, you called the police.

Did it not occur to you that she might've gone away and locked the door before leaving?

Why should she lock it?

In any case, she would've left a note for me.

- And she left no note?

- Of course, she didn't.

JAPP: Tell me about Mrs Allen, Miss Plenderleith.

I met her abroad.

She was on her way back from India.

I was looking for someone to share a flat with me.

We liked each other.

What about the husband?

Nothing to write home about, apparently.

He drank, I think.

Died a year or two after the marriage.

LIGHTER CLICKS Do you know if Mrs Allen was in financial difficulties?

No, I'm sure she wasn't.

Did she have any particular man-friend or men-friends?

She was engaged to be married again if that answers your question.

What is the name of the man she was engaged to?

Oh, my God.

I haven't told Charles.

Who is Charles, Miss?

The man Barbara was engaged to.

Charles Laverton-West.

He's MP for some place in Hampshire.

I should've phoned him.

JAPP: We'll go round and see him.

There'd been no quarrel between them?

I'd be very surprised Barbara wasn't the quarrelling kind.

What is your own opinion of Monsieur Laverton-West?

He's young, ambitious... a good public speaker, means to get on in the world.

And on the debit side?

Well, in my opinion, he's commonplace and rather pompous.

Those are not very serious faults, mademoiselle.

Oh, you don't think so?

Well, they might be to you, but... to Mrs Allen... ..no.

She would not notice them.

You were fond of your friend?

Yes, very.

INDISTINCT CHATTER JAPP: I know this is upsetting for you, Miss Plenderleith, but there are one or two more questions I'd like to ask you.

Mrs Allen was left-handed, wasn't she?

Left-handed?

No, I don't think so.

No, I'm sure she wasn't.

Really?

Mrs Allen was shot in the left temple and the gun was in her left hand.

Didn't you notice that when you found the body?

No, I didn't.

It was so horrible.

I didn't notice anything.

That's understandable, Miss.

But it seems highly unlikely that a right-handed person would shoot themselves left-handed.

You ever seen this before?

No.

It's not yours or Mrs Allen's?

It's not the kind of thing normally worn by our sex, is it?

So you recognise it?

I don't recognise it, I recognise what it is, though.

It's half of a man's cuff link.

POIROT: Hastings!

HASTINGS: Once we've got this filter screwed down... POIROT: Hastings!

..we can put the new oil in, and she'll run like a well-oiled clock.

Hastings?

Hello!

What are you doing, Hastings?

Well, I thought I'd do some work on the car.

But you were to ask questions, Hastings, to sound out local opinion.

I've done that.

Freddie!

Freddie's helping me with the oil filter.

FREDDIE: That'll hold her.

It's tight for now.

We'll put the spanner to it when we put in a new gasket.

Right.

This is Mr Poirot.

How are you, guv?

I'm Fred Hogg.

You can call me Freddie.

Hello, Freddie.

Freddie's got the goods.

Did you see something last night?

Mrs Allen went to the post box about six.

About half-nine, a car pulled up.

Standard Swallow saloon.

Rubbish, really, but it looked smart.

A man got out.

He was about 45.

Well set up, military-looking gent.

You've seen him before?

Yeah, a couple of times.

Dark blue overcoat, toothbrush moustache.

He was in there for about an hour.

I saw them come out together.

So you saw him leave?

I don't miss much, guv.

JAPP: Then you heard what they said, of course?

Yeah.

He said, "Think it over and let me know."

She said something.

Then they said, "So long."

The way they talked, they were friendly, yes?

Can't always tell with toffs, but they seemed all right.

You didn't hear what Mrs Allen said?

No, she was round behind the door.

Now, look here, my boy.

I want you to answer my next question very carefully.

If you don't know the answer or can't remember, you just say so.

Is that clear?

Ask the question.

Which of them shut the door?

Mrs Allen or the gentleman?

I think the lady did.

No, she never.

It was him.

He pulled it to with a big bang and then got into the car really quick.

Here.

Here you are, my boy, you seem a bright kind of shaver.

Here's sixpence for you.

That's very kind of you, sir, but you couldn't make it a shilling, could you?

Go on, clear off!

KNOCKING ON DOOR Chief Inspector Japp and Mr Poirot, sir.

Good day, gentlemen.

To what do I owe this pleasure?

No great pleasure, sir, I'm afraid.

Oh?

We've brought some bad news.

Go on.

It's about Mrs Allen.

Mrs Barbara Allen.

What about her?

Get on with it, man.

She's dead, sir.

Dead?

I don't believe it.

What's happened?

Apparently suicide, sir.

Was there anything worrying Mrs Allen, do you know?

No.

Not a thing.

We were engaged to be married.

Yes, quite, sir.

I can't believe it.

Dead?

How?

Shot, sir.

Shot?

Good God, I hope the newspapers haven't got hold of this.

I couldn't say, sir.

I wonder if I could just ask... TELEPHONE RINGS Hello.

Ah, yes, thank you.

I'll hold on.

It's the Prime Minister.

I will have some questions, sir.

Just make an appointment with my secretary at the house.

Yes, I'm still here.

Very good.

We'll do that.

I'm sorry to be the bearer of such bad news.

Pardon, monsieur... allow me to express my deepest sympathy at your loss.

Yes, right, thank you, erm... stiff upper lip, you know.

That's the British way.

Magnifique.

By the way, sir, was Mrs Allen left-handed?

Left-handed?

No, I don't think so.

I can't say I ever... No.

She was right-handed, I'm sure.

Ah, Prime Minister.

No, not at all, Prime Minister.

Yes.

Yes, everything's ready for you.

JAPP: What a stuffed fish.

No, not a stuffed fish, a boiled owl.

POIROT: As you say, Japp.

More concerned about the newspapers than his fiancee being dead.

The Plenderleith girl was quite right about him.

Mind you, he's a good-looking chap.

Might go down well with some women.

Perhaps.

But it would not do for them to have a sense of humour.

HE CHUCKLES The important thing is, everyone's seems agreed that Mrs Allen was right-handed.

Yes.

Of course, one must not jump to conclusions, mon ami.

Never mind about jumping to conclusions, Poirot.

This is a murder we're dealing with.

POIROT: To the Bulldog Breed Laundry.

Dear Sirs... ..once again...

..I am obliged... PENCIL SCRATCHES ..to communicate to you... ..the dissatisfaction I have... ..for your starching... ..of my collars.

I refer... to my instructions... ..of the 2nd of March, 1935... ..and subsequent letters... You look them up in the file, Miss Lemon, and enumerate them.

All of them, Mr Poirot?

All of them, Miss Lemon.

It is become serious.

The trouble is, Mr Poirot, they just don't understand the letters.

POIROT: Why not?

They're Chinese, Mr Poirot.

The Bulldog Breed Laundry is Chinese?

Yes, Mr Poirot.

What is the world coming to, Miss Lemon?

I'm sure I couldn't say, sir, but when the boy brings your laundry back, he brings the letters back, too, for me to explain to him.

- And you do?

- No.

Why not?

I don't speak Chinese.

So what do you say to him?

Well, I...

I say, "Him collar no velly good starchee."

I show him the collars and say it.

Hastings, my friend, you spent some years in China, did you not?

Absolutely.

Fine fellows, fine fellows.

Did you ever have any trouble with your laundry?

Yes, I did, as a matter of fact.

What did you say to them?

Well, I said, "Him collar no velly good starchee."

That's where I got it from, sir.

I asked the captain, knowing he'd been in the East.

But, Hastings, my collars, they do not get any better.

No.

Mine didn't, either, now I come to think about it.

DOORBELL BUZZES Miss Lemon.

Why don't you get yourself some turn-down collars, Poirot?

They're much more the thing, you know.

The thing, Hastings?

You think Poirot concerns himself with mere thingness?

- Er, no.

- No.

No, I-I see that, Poirot.

The turn-down collar is the first symptom of decay of the grey cells.

It's Chief Inspector Japp, Mr Poirot.

Well, she's out of it.

POIROT: Good morning, Chief Inspector Japp.

Yes, well, good morning.

Now... who is out of it?

Plenderleith.

She was playing bridge in Essex up to midnight.

We've got to give up any idea of her being concerned in the business.

A disappointment, Japp.

You are still convinced we are dealing here with a murder?

No doubts about it.

Something I've been meaning to ask you, Poirot.

Hmm?

What was that you sniffing at in the room when we examined the body?

Sniff, sniff, sniff.

Have you got a cold, have you?

No.

I always thought the grey cells were in your brain.

Don't tell me your nose cells are superior to everyone else's, too.

By no means.

It was merely cigarette smoke.

I didn't smell cigarette smoke.

No more did I, my friend.

There were nine cigarette ends in the ashtray.

Six of them gaspers, three Turkish.

Exactly.

Your wonderful nose cells knew that without looking, I suppose?

I assure you my nose does not enter into the matter.

My nose registered nothing.

But the brain cells registered a lot?

Well, there were certain indications.

Did you not think so?

Now...am I wrong... ..or are we going to talk further with the beautiful Miss Plenderleith?

Yes.

You know, there was something missing from that room, Chief Inspector.

But also, something added, I think.

JAPP: You know what's worrying me, Poirot?

POIROT: Yes.

JAPP: "Yes"?

What do you mean, "Yes"?

I saw you looking at Mrs Allen's chequebook stubs yesterday.

You're too clever for your own good.

And you noticed as I did, Mrs Allen drew out £200 in cash from her bank on Monday morning.

And three months ago, on 6th of August, another 200.

- Truly?

- Truly.

There's no £200 in this house that my lads could find.

DOORBELL RINGS JAPP: I'm afraid, Miss Plenderleith, we are no longer treating this as a case of suicide.

Not suicide?

You see, being as how your friend was in no way, shape, or form likely to commit suicide, we have to consider the alternative.

Murder.

Murder?

Are you sure?

How horrible.

Horrible perhaps, mademoiselle... ..but impossible?

I suppose it's possible.

And if there was a murder, there would have to be a motive.

PLENDERLEITH: Ask me any questions you like.

But I don't see how I can help you.

On Monday night, Mrs Allen had a visitor.

He's described as a man of 45, military bearing, toothbrush moustache, smartly dressed, and driving a Standard Swallow saloon car.

Do you know who that is?

- Sounds like Major Eustace.

Who's Major Eustace?

He was a man Barbara had known in India.

He turned up about a year ago.

We've seen him on and off since.

He was a friend of Mrs Allen's?

He behaved like one.

JAPP: Would it surprise you, Miss Plenderleith, if I suggested that this man was blackmailing Mrs Allen?

Of course!

So that was it!

Of course!

You find the suggestion feasible, mademoiselle?

I was a fool not to think of it!

I wish she'd told me.

I'd have told him to go to the devil!

But he might have gone, might he not, to Monsieur Laverton-West?

Yes.

Yes, that's true.

Which room do you think Mrs Allen would have received her visitor in?

Oh, probably in here.

on the other hand, if she'd wanted to write a cheque, probably upstairs.

There was no cheque.

Mrs Allen drew out £200 in cash on Monday.

We've not been able to find any trace of it in the house.

But I'd like to have just one more look round, if I may?

- Look anywhere you like.

JAPP: Thank you.

PLENDERLEITH: Would you like to sit down?

Thank you.

Cigarette?

You are most kind.

HE SNIFFS LIGHTER CLICKS This cupboard under the stairs, Miss Plenderleith...

It's locked.

Yes, I've already found that out.

Could I have the key, please?

Erm...

I don't know where it is.

Oh, that's too bad.

Don't want to have to break the lock.

No.

Erm...

It might be upstairs.

I managed to find it.

Good.

We keep it locked.

Otherwise, one's umbrella and things have a habit of getting pinched.

JAPP: Very sensible.

PLENDERLEITH: That's mine.

BRIEFCASE LATCH CLICKS PLENDERLEITH: It came back with me yesterday morning, so there can't be anything there.

Just as well to be on the safe side.

Nothing much there.

No, well, there couldn't have been, could there?

BRIEFCASE LATCH CLICKS JAPP: Sorry to bother you, Mr Laverton-West.

CHARLES: Couldn't it have waited?

JAPP: This sort of enquiry is often inconvenient, sir.

CHARLES: I don't mind the inconvenience if I see results.

Have you any idea yet, Chief Inspector, what caused Mrs Allen to take her own life?

Perhaps it'll be more understandable, sir, if I tell you that it was not suicide but murder.

CHARLES: What are you talking about?

Have you any idea, Mr Laverton-West, who might have any conceivable motive?

No!

It's bizarre!

The mere idea is unimaginable.

She never mentioned any enemies, anyone who might bear a grudge against her?

Never.

Do you know a Major Eustace?

Eustace?

Eustace.

Oh, yes, I remember.

I met him once at Barbara's.

Mrs Allen's.

Rather a doubtful type, in my opinion.

I said as much to Mrs Allen.

He wasn't the sort of man I should have encouraged to come to the house after we were married.

Look, I've got to get dressed.

What did Mrs Allen say to that?

She quite agreed.

She trusted my judgement implicitly.

And, naturally, as my wife, she would have found a good many of her old associates... well, unsuitable, shall we say.

Quite.

What can you tell me about your own movements on the night of November 5th, sir?

My movements?

My movements?

JAPP: Purely a matter of routine, sir.

We have to ask everybody.

I should've thought a man in my position might've been exempt.

It doesn't work quite like that, sir.

Very well.

Let me see.

I was at the House of Commons.

Left about half past ten.

Went for a walk along the Embankment.

Watched some of the fireworks.

Lucky there aren't any plots like that nowadays.

Then I walked home.

JAPP: What time did you arrive?

Somewhere about eleven-fifteen, eleven-thirty.

Perhaps someone let you in?

No.

Did you meet anyone whilst walking?

No.

POIROT: What an alibi.

JAPP: It's so feeble it must be genuine.

I'm not bothered about him.

It's the Plenderleith girl that worries me.

I'd still like to know why she got so hot and bothered about that briefcase.

That's something in your line, Poirot.

You like chasing about after the kind of triviality that leads nowhere.

"The Mystery Of The Perambulating Briefcase."

POIROT LAUGHS Sounds quite promising.

♪ Here's a song A tantalising ditty ♪ ♪ The tune is catchy And the words are witty ♪ ♪ Could be it's a country Or a city ♪ ♪ Is it Tokyo?

♪ No, you gotta work south a little.

♪ Is it Kokomo?

♪ No, you gotta work east now, boys!

♪ Is it cool to say Things Oriental?

♪ ♪ Has a native beat That's fundamental ♪ ♪ That came way before The Continental ♪ ♪ Is it Mexico?

♪ ♪ Nunca, nunca ♪ ♪ Is it Borneo?

♪ ♪ You're getting warmer Cos it's Hindustan ♪ ♪ Where we stop to rest Our tired caravan ♪ ♪ Hindustan ♪ ♪ Where the painted peacock Proudly spread his fan... ♪ Major Eustace in the club?

♪ Hindustan... ♪ - Major Eustace?

- Yes.

Chief Inspector Japp, Scotland Yard.

Oh, yes?

Drink?

No, thank you, sir.

Might we have a word?

Er, yes.

Shall we go over here?

MAJOR EUSTACE: Well, well, well.

Take a pew.

It's not often I get honoured by... a big gun like a chief inspector.

JAPP: No, thank you.

Oh.

HE SNIFFS You smoke Turkish, I see.

Yeah.

Would you prefer a gasper?

I've got some... ..somewhere.

- No, this'll do fine, thanks.

I think you knew Mrs Barbara Allen, Major Eustace.

Ah, yes.

Very sad business.

Saw it in the paper last night.

You met her in India, I believe?

MAJOR EUSTACE: Yes.

Some years ago, now.

- Did you also know her husband?

No, as a matter of fact, I never came across Allen.

But you know something about him?

I heard he was by way of being a bad hat.

Of course, it's only hearsay.

Mrs Allen never spoke about him?

Never.

What I want to know is, did you see Mrs Allen on the night of November 5th?

Indeed, I did.

JAPP: You called at her house, I think.

That's right.

She asked me to advise her about some investments.

She gave no hint about contemplating suicide?

Not the least in the world.

As a matter of fact, when we said goodbye I said I'd ring her up soon and we'd do a show together.

JAPP: You said you'd ring her.

Those were your last words?

Yes.

Curious.

I have information that you said something quite different.

My information is that what you actually said was, "Well, think it over and let me know."

Not quite the same.

Well, I...

I think what I said was that she should let me know when she was free.

You can't expect a man to remember word for word.

TREVOR: Excuse me, Major, Deirdre says we need more gin from the cupboard.

Oh.

Get a couple of bottles out, will you, Trevor?

TREVOR: Right.

You own this place, do you, Major Eustace?

Wish I did.

Little gold mine, this.

You say that Mrs Allen asked you to advise her about investments.

Did she by any chance entrust you with the sum of £200?

What the devil do you mean by that?

Mrs Allen drew out £200 in cash from her bank.

Some of the money was in £5 notes.

They can be traced by their numbers, of course.

Trace them, then, and be damned to you!

Trace them.

I don't care.

Was the money for investment, or was it blackmail?

That's a preposterous suggestion.

How dare you!

Look, what happened was this.

I went round to the house.

I mean, I telephoned first.

JAPP: What time did you get there?

About half past nine.

We sat and talked.

And smoked.

Yes, and smoked.

Anything wrong with that?

Where did this talk take place?

MAJOR EUSTACE: In the sitting room.

As I said, we sat and talked quite amicably, and then I left, er... just before about half past ten.

You stayed in the sitting room?

Yes.

You didn't go upstairs to Mrs Allen's room?

No.

Could I just look at your cuff links, Major Eustace?

Cuff links?

You can refuse if you wish, of course.

I've got nothing to hide.

- When did that happen?

- What?

- One of them's broken.

- Oh, I know, I, er...

I noticed it this morning.

Doesn't show if I put that end on the inside.

Would it surprise you to learn that it happened when you were visiting Mrs Allen's?

I've not denied I was there.

Yes, but that piece of cuff link was found not downstairs in the sitting room but upstairs in Mrs Allen's own room.

In the same room where she was murdered.

Murdered?

Yes.

Where a man sat smoking the same kind of cigarettes that you smoke.

Are you trying to frame me?

I never went near the house again that night!

You didn't need to.

She was dead when you left.

No.

Wait.

Wait a minute.

You've got someone who heard me talking to Barbara on the doorstep.

You said...

They heard you talk to her and pretend to wait for her answer, then talk again.

That's an old trick.

Oh, my God, it isn't true!

JAPP: Robert Erskine Eustace, I must ask you to accompany me to the police station.

Oh, my God.

MACHINE WHIRRING DOORBELL RINGS - Oh, hello.

- Yes, dear?

Could I speak to Miss Plenderleith?

Well, you could, dear, if she was here.

She's gone off playing that golf.

- Golf?

- If you please.

And poor Mrs Allen still lying cold down at the mortuary.

Indeed.

This is most difficult.

I'm sorry, Mrs?

Pierce, dear.

My name is Hercule Poirot, Mrs Pierce.

Oh!

I've heard of you, dear.

Well, I am most flattered.

Mrs Pierce, I am in something of a difficulty.

Oh.

I came here yesterday with Chief Inspector Japp, and we omitted to search for clues in one particular place in the house.

So I was wondering if... Oh!

Come on in, dear.

Help yourself.

You are most kind.

Thank you.

My old man will be ever so tickled when I tell him you was here, dear.

Always reading your exploits in the paper, he is.

That's very nice, Mrs Pierce.

May I?

Yes!

Go on.

He'd drive you to drink, he would.

Reading all that rubbish in the newspapers!

Mrs Pierce... where does Miss Plenderleith go to play the golf?

You sure he's all right, Captain Hastings?

The name of Poirot is feared on golf courses all over the Continent.

You don't happen to have a handicap certificate on you?

No, no, I'm fine.

There should be a little hole somewhere, and I've got to push the ball into it.

You see that flag there?

No.

In front of the big tree, a little patch of red.

Ah, yes.

Good.

That's where the little hole is.

- No.

GOLFER: Ahem.

HASTINGS: Won't keep you a moment.

Now, ll you have to do is hit it with that.

HE CLEARS THROAT HASTINGS: Go ahead.

Easy does it.

Am I allowed to hit the flag?

Oh, yes, that'll be fine.

It will not hit the flag, I think.

Oh, bad luck.

POIROT: Hastings, how will we ever catch up with Miss Plenderleith if you take so many hits each time?

HASTINGS: We can't.

She started out an hour and a half ago.

We might see her coming back at one of the parallel holes.

I do wish you'd stop rummaging around in the dustbins.

OBJECTS CLATTERING Ha!

- Not another one.

- Number three, Hastings.

Someone's having a bad day People do break clubs, you know.

But three clubs in three holes?

Well, what, then?

Miss Plenderleith is getting rid of some golf clubs in a place where she thought they won't be noticed.

Major Eustace is not guilty of murder, Hastings.

Lost your ball again, Poirot?

Ssh!

Keep out of sight.

WHISPERS: Look.

We've seen enough, Hastings.

I must regretfully abandon our most interesting game, and go and telephone Chief Inspector Japp.

JAPP: Why?

Why would a presumably sane young woman want to throw an expensive case into a lake with just two magazines in it and a few stones to make sure it sank?

You need worry no longer.

The answer is coming.

And why break up a perfectly good set of golf clubs?

I don't mind telling you.

I lay awake last night worrying about it.

Mon pauvre, Japp.

Miss Plenderleith, Mr Poirot.

POIROT: Thank you, Miss Lemon.

I'm sorry I'm late.

I've just come from Barbara's funeral.

It was so good of you to come.

Please sit down, mademoiselle.

I have certain news to give you.

I read it in the papers.

Major Eustace has been arrested.

It was murder, then?

Oh, yes, the wilful destruction of one human being by another human being.

And now, mademoiselle, I'm going tell you how I arrived at the truth in this matter.

He has his methods.

I humour him, you know.

To begin with, there was the smell of the cigarette smoke.

- Which I didn't smell.

POIROT: Precisely.

And yet the ashtray had in it no fewer than the stubs of nine cigarettes.

So it was odd, very odd, that the room should smell as it did.

Perfectly fresh.

JAPP: So that's what you were getting at!

The next thing that attracted my attention was the wristwatch worn by the dead woman.

What about it?

It was worn on the right wrist.

In my experience, it is more usual for the watch to be worn on the left wrist.

But now, my friends, I come to the writing bureau.

Yes, I thought we'd come to that.

The blotting pad had on top a clean, untouched piece of blotting paper.

The sheet was clean because Barbara hadn't written any letters that day.

Yes, Freddie saw her post some letters at six o'clock.

Well done, Hastings!

So what then happened to the piece of paper on which she'd blotted her letters?

But there was a second curious detail about the writing desk.

Perhaps you, Japp, can remember the arrangement of it?

Allow me.

Inkstand and blotting-pad in the centre.

The pen tray to the left.

The calendar and the quill pen to the right.

Eh bien?

- Yes?

- Ah, you do not see.

The pens for use were in the pen tray on the left.

Is it not more usual to find the pen tray on the right more convenient for the right hand?

So...

..I made myself a picture, Japp.

A picture of Miss Plenderleith arriving home after the weekend.

A picture of Miss Plenderleith opening the door and finding her friend lying dead, with the pistol clasped in her hand.

WOMAN: Barbara?

KNOCKING ON DOOR POIROT: 'Her left hand, naturally, 'as her friend was left-handed, 'in spite of everything Miss Plenderleith has done 'to convince us that her friend was right-handed.

'There is also a note addressed to you, mademoiselle.

'It was, I fancy, a very moving letter 'about a young, gentle, unhappy woman... '..driven by blackmail to take her own life.'

I think almost at once the idea flashed into your head.

Let him be punished.

'You take up the note 'and the top sheet of blotting paper.

'Then you go downstairs and light a fire... '..and drop both into the flames.'

'You take the ashtray upstairs to further the illusion 'that there were two people sat up there talking.

'You also had a lucky break.

'You discover a fragment 'of Major Eustace's cuff link in the sitting room.

'You take that upstairs, too.

'You expect that to clinch the matter.

'You take the pistol from her left hand.

'You wipe it clean 'and put it back in her left hand.

'You bolt the window and lock the door.

'There must be no suspicion 'that you have tampered with the room.'

And so it goes on.

Oh, yes, mademoiselle, it was clever.

A very clever murder.

For that is what it was.

The attempted murder of Major Eustace.

It wasn't murder, it was justice!

That man hounded Barbara to her death.

Poor kid.

Just because she got involved with some married man in India and had a baby.

When the child died, she came back to England.

She met Charles and fell in love with him.

God knows why, the pompous little tick!

And then, that devil Eustace turned up from India.

If you'd read the letter she left me, you'd understand why I did what I did.

She loved Charles, she said.

She couldn't live without him.

But for his sake, she mustn't marry him.

She was taking the best way out.

I wish you'd seen that letter.

And you call it murder!

Because it is murder!

The man you wished to trap is already in prison.

Do you really wish to destroy him?

Do you really wish to destroy the life... the mind, of any human being?

No.

No, I don't.

I wish I did... ..but I don't.

FOOTSTEPS FADING Well, I'm jiggered.

Not murder disguised as suicide... ..but suicide made to look like murder.

POIROT: And cleverly done, too.

Nothing over-emphasised.

HE GASPS Wait a minute.

What about the briefcase?

What about the golf clubs?

Well, they were Mrs Allen's.

You see, Jane Plenderleith had to convince us her friend was right-handed if we were to believe she'd been murdered.

With the golf clubs?

They were the left-handed golf clubs.

Of course!

POIROT: And when she opened the cupboard, she tried to focus our attention on the wrong object.

So she used the briefcase as a... What is it?

As a bloater, kipper?

- Red herring.

- Absolutely.

And now, my friends, it is time for me to take you to lunch.

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