Right wheel!

MAN SPEAKING INDISTINCTLY PROJECTOR WHIRRING You go straight up to the ward.

They'll see you there.

The idea!

I'd like to see Lieutenant Hastings, please.

Hastings.

When's the next ambulance... Just a minute, Nurse.

I'll be with you in a moment.

Royal Fusiliers.

The new film has arrived.

You'll probably find him upstairs watching.

Thank you.

Excuse me, Lieutenant Hastings.

There's a gentleman to see you.

Right.

Thank you.

Don't you recognise your old friends?

Good Lord!

John Cavendish!

How wonderful to see you!

I tried to join up but they said I was too ancient.

HASTINGS CHUCKLES What about your brother Lawrence?

Is he practising medicine yet?

- He wasn't until the war.

I don't know why he bothered to qualify.

They made him go to work at the local hospital.

He's still writing though.

- Anything published?

Stories, poems, bits and pieces in magazines.

I suppose you heard Mother married again.

Good heavens.

No, I didn't know that.

JOHN: Some fellow turned up on the pretext of being Evie's second cousin or something.

You remember Evie.

- Evie?

JOHN: Evie Howard.

She's the mother's factotum, companion, jack-of-all-trades.

Great sport, old Evie.

Must have been after my time.

Anyway, this fellow Inglethorp turned up and about a month later, the mater suddenly announced that she and Alfred were engaged.

I mean, he must be 20 years younger than she is.

Good Lord.

Difficult situation for all of you.

Difficult?

It's damnable.

Do you get away from this place?

I'm not a prisoner here, you know.

But you're up to travelling, aren't you?

I was going to suggest you come down for a few days.

I'd love to.

I could do with a break from the army.

I could come down on Saturday if that's all right.

JOHN: That's marvellous.

TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWS MAN: Styles St Mary.

Styles St Mary.

- Hastings.

- John.

Good of you to be here.

Come on.

TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWS Still got a drop or two of petrol, you see.

Thanks to the Minister of Agriculture.

Do you have to do a lot of driving?

Quite a bit.

I have to visit every farm within a 20-mile radius once a month.

I wonder if we've got time to pick up Cynthia and Lawrence.

No, they'll have started from the hospital by now.

Is Cynthia your wife?

No, no.

Cynthia's a protegee of my mother's.

Daughter of an old schoolfellow.

She was left penniless, and my mother came to the rescue.

She works at the same hospital as Lawrence in Malmesbury.

Come on.

I'm afraid you'll find it very quiet down here.

My dear fellow, after the joys of France, that's just what I want.

Is that one of your neighbours?

Mm?

The girl on the horse.

Beautiful girl.

Yes, I suppose she is.

No, that's Mrs Raikes, widow of one of the farmers hereabouts.

Hello, Evie.

Here's our wounded hero.

Hastings, Miss Howard.

How do you do?

Better be careful, Lieutenant Hastings, or I'll recruit you for the weeding.

Oh, only too delighted.

Don't be polite.

You'll regret it later.

SHE CHUCKLES In case of refusal, Lady Tadminster might open the fete on the first day, and Mrs Crosby on the second.

But what about the duchess?

Lieutenant Hastings has arrived, Mother.

Why, Mr Hastings.

After all these years.

Are you quite recovered from your wound?

Oh, yes, pretty well, you know, Mrs Inglethorp.

Just a scratch.

Alfred, darling, this is Mr Hastings.

Mr Hastings, my husband.

I'm delighted to meet you, Lieutenant Hastings.

How do you do?

Mary.

Lieutenant Hastings.

Lieutenant Hastings.

I've heard so much about you.

And I you, Mrs Cavendish.

John's a lucky man.

Ah.

Seedcake.

WOMAN: Bye, Cynthia.

- Bye.

WOMAN: Bye, Lawrence.

Bye.

We're late.

Your mother hates us being late for tea.

LAWRENCE: She just likes to get us all on parade.

Emily.

Oh, well.

One keeps busy, you know.

Comforts for the troops.

Armament drives.

How many events have we got arranged over the next three months, Alfred?

Three bazaars and two fetes.

Yes, and of course the sale of work.

You know, my dear, I'm sure that cushion is damp.

Oh.

Allow me.

There.

That's better, dearest.

Can't have you sitting on damp cushions, can we?

You're so thoughtful, Alfred.

Dashed good seedcake.

Thank you, Dorcas.

Ah!

Here's Cynthia.

You're very late today, Cynthia.

Oh, I know.

I'm sorry.

The bus was late.

This is Mr Hastings.

Miss Murdoch.

- How do you do?

JOHN: Where's Lawrence?

CYNTHIA: He's just gone upstairs.

He'll be down in a minute.

JOHN: He'd better hurry up.

There won't be any cake left.

I've got a cousin who's nursing.

She seems to spend most of her time placating the sister.

Oh, they're terrifying.

You've no idea.

But I'm not a nurse, thank heaven.

I work in the dispensary.

Oh.

How many people have you poisoned?

Oh, hundreds.

BOTH CHUCKLE Don't talk such nonsense, Cynthia, please.

What will you do after the war, Lieutenant Hastings?

Well, you may laugh at me, but I've always had a secret hankering to be a detective.

I was in Belgium before the war and I ran across a very famous detective there.

What were you doing in Belgium?

Duck-shooting, actually.

This detective was down from Brussels investigating a murder in the village.

I think I was a suspect for a time because the victim was shot with the same sort of gun as I had.

- How frightful.

- Oh, no, not really.

My system's based on his.

Though, of course, I've progressed rather further.

He was a funny little man.

A great dandy, but wonderfully clever.

I love a good detective story.

Dr Wilkins was saying yesterday that owing to the ignorance of the more uncommon poisons among the medical profession, there are probably countless cases of murder that went quite unsuspected.

Can we talk about something else?

My brother's a bit sensitive about this, being a medical man himself.

CHUCKLING SHOUTING GUNFIRE MAN: Hold your fire!

POIROT: Another example of the English bucolic beliefs, Anagallis arvensis.

In English, the scarlet pimpernel.

It is believed that when this flower is open, it is a sign of a prolonged spell of the fine weather.

It is seldom seen open in this country.

MURMURING IN FRENCH Something the matter, Monsieur van der Stadt?

He wants to know why we have to speak English all the time.

He finds it tiring.

Mm.

Because, Monsieur van der Stadt, in this country, we are the guests.

If we are to gain the confidence of the natives, we must learn their ways.

You men, where are the rest of your platoon?

They're... They're dead, sir.

At least, they said they wasn't, but the umpire said they had to be.

MAN: Well, get rid of these civilians anyway.

HASTINGS: Styles Court really is a glorious old place.

JOHN: Yes.

Yes, it is.

It'll be mine some day.

And our house in London, too.

I managed to persuade Mother that Inglethorp's got no right to them.

No moral right, anyway.

As it stands at the moment, I get the houses, but Inglethorp gets all the money.

- Can't your brother help out?

- Lawrence?

No.

We're an impecunious lot.

My mother's always been awfully good to us, I must say.

That is, up to now.

Since her marriage, of course... Come on.

Let's go back to the house.

POIROT: Do you remember the song that the British soldiers taught us?

Why don't we try and sing it together?

♪ It's a long way to Tipperary ♪ ALL SINGING OFF-KEY ♪ It's a long way to go ♪ ♪ It's a long way to Tipperary ♪ Keep in tune!

♪ To the sweetest girl I know ♪ ♪ Goodbye, Piccadilly ♪ Oh!

Good afternoon, Monsieur Poirot.

Good afternoon, Dr Wilkins.

Good afternoon, messieurs.

I see you have joined the cavalry, eh?

Yes.

I'm on my way home.

It's the second time I've been killed in a month.

Ah.

I say, do you fancy a pint of beer, if there's any left?

Er, non, merci.

I cannot yet bring myself to enjoy the English public house.

All those bottles of the different size, all in the wrong order.

Eh!

Doesn't seem to bother your compatriots.

Oh, what is the use?

I try to instil in them a sense of order, method, but... ..always they disappear into the public house.

Jolly good horse.

I thought they'd commandeered anything decent for military service.

Agricultural use is one of the exemptions, fortunately.

I hack 'round the estate nearly every day.

There's really so little to do 'round here.

You work on the land, though, don't you?

Yes.

Though it's frightfully early in the morning.

I'm usually finished at the farm by midday.

HORSE SNORTS HASTINGS: I wouldn't have thought it was woman's work.

MARY: There's a war on.

We've all got to do what we can.

HASTINGS: Well, the uniform looks jolly nice anyway.

That cream-coloured overall.

MARY: There.

Good boy.

Thank you.

Lieutenant Hastings, your leg.

I didn't think.

Are you all right?

No, no, no.

It's fine now, really.

I don't think I need this any more.

Here you are.

Compliments of the British Army.

I've never known it so hot in June before.

What we need is a cool glass of lemonade.

Lemonade?

I haven't seen a lemon since 1914.

Game of tennis later?

- Love to.

Mary, Hastings, come into my study for a moment, will you?

What's the matter?

There's a deuce of a mess.

Evie's had a row with Inglethorp and she's off.

Off?

She's leaving.

Given in her notice.

You see, she went to see the mater and they had a... Well, I've spoken my mind, anyway.

- Evie, this can't be true.

- True enough.

I'm afraid I said some things to Emily she won't forget or forgive in a hurry.

MARY: Oh, Evie.

"You're an old woman, Emily," I said.

"And there's no fool like an old fool.

"The man's 20 years younger than you."

Oh, no!

Well, I'm sorry.

I had to do it.

I had to tell her.

I said, "I'm going to warn you, Emily, "whether you like it or whether you don't.

"That man would as soon murder you in your bed "as look at you.

"He's a bad lot."

Good God.

What did she say?

Oh.

"Wicked calumnies.

Wicked lies.

Wicked woman.

"Darling Alfred."

Etc, etc.

Ended up by saying the sooner I left her house, the better.

So I'm off.

Mr Hastings.

You're honest.

I can trust you.

- Well, I er... - Look after her, Mr Hastings.

My poor Emily.

They're a lot of sharks.

All of them.

Of course I'll do everything I can, Miss Howard.

I only ask you to keep your eyes open.

Above all, Mr Hastings, watch that devil.

SPOON SCRAPING It's almost too hot, isn't it?

Too hot?

I shouldn't be surprised if we had a thunderstorm.

That'll be two and threepence, please, sir.

And don't you go telling anyone about that, sir.

There's them 'round here who'd do more than murder for that much cocoa in one week.

I am very grateful to you, Madame Dainty.

And I give you my word that I will be the soul... of discretion.

- Thank you, sir.

- Thank you.

Madame Dainty... has it ever occurred to you to organise the goods by the country of origin?

Well, no, I... I can't say it has.

POIROT: Ah, you will be amazed, madame.

Now, let me see.

North, south, east, west.

Yes, the spices which come from the Orient, we could place over there by the door, which represents the east, eh?

Voila.

All you would need to remember is from where came each article to lay your hand on it quickly and with efficiency.

I can do that already, sir.

And anyway, as far as I'm concerned, everything comes from the wholesaler... in Malmesbury.

- Yes, Madame Dainty.

But... - Half a dozen stamps, please.

DAINTY: Very good, sir.

Hastings?

Good Lord!

Monsieur Poirot!

It is indeed mon ami Hastings!

BOTH CHUCKLE I was talking about you only the other day.

Oh, mon ami, mon ami!

This is my old friend Monsieur Poirot.

We haven't met for ages.

We know Monsieur Poirot.

I didn't know he was a friend of yours.

Oh, well, it is only by the charity of Madame Inglethorp, the mother to Monsieur Lawrence, that I am here.

She has kindly extended her hospitality to, what, seven of my country people, who are refugees from our native land.

En effet, she has provided us with a delightful house over there.

You must come to the house.

Oh, no, no, no.

Pardon.

You must come to tea.

Now, that is the proper English expression, no?

HASTINGS LAUGHS Yes, very proper.

POIROT LAUGHS Bon.

I improve, huh?

BOTH LAUGH Excuse me.

HASTINGS: Oh, Monsieur Poirot.

- Oh.

Madame Raikes.

EMILY: I told you before.

MAN: It's none of your business.

EMILY: It is my business!

Not content with carrying on a sordid affair with this woman, I now find you are squandering large sums of money on her?

MAN: It's not a large sum of money.

It's a loan, anyway.

EMILY: No, no!

My mind is made up.

And you need not think that any fear of scandal between husband and wife will deter me.

I have fed you and clothed you, I have given you a roof over your head, and this is the way you repay me.

He's such a dear little man.

You've been entertaining a celebrity unawares.

Oh, it's you.

Is there anything the matter, Aunt Emily?

Of course not!

Oh, er, Dorcas, bring me some stamps, will you?

Yes'm.

You're looking awfully tired.

Didn't you ought to be resting?

Yes.

No, not now.

I've some letters I must finish before post time.

Have you lighted the fire in my bedroom?

Yes.

I'll go to bed directly after supper.

DOOR CLOSES MARY: Then you won't show it to me?

EMILY: My dear Mary, this has nothing to do with the matter.

MARY: Show it to me, then!

EMILY: I tell you, it is not what you imagine!

It does not concern you in the least.

I say, there's been a most frightful row.

I got it all out of Dorcas.

Yes, I know.

I just overheard Mary and Mrs Inglethorp.

No, between Aunt Emily and him!

Oh, I do hope she's found him out at last.

I'm sure he's a fortune hunter.

Well, Dorcas happened to be near the door.

Apparently, it was a real old bust-up.

Oh, I wish I knew what it was all about.

- Where are you going?

- Just down to the village.

You're going to see your precious Mrs Raikes, aren't you?

- For God's sake, Mary!

- I warn you, John.

I'm not gonna stand for this much longer.

CLOCK TICKING I'll have my coffee in my room.

I still have some papers to see to.

I read in the newspaper the first American divisions are due in France next week.

Will you take Mrs Inglethorp her coffee, Cynthia?

Shall we have our coffee in the drawing room?

KNOCKING AT DOOR Come in.

Put it by the bed, dear.

I'm turning in soon, too.

I'm exhausted.

I'll take some sleeping powders... Just light the lamp before you go.

Yes.

It will be dark soon.

Oh, no.

SHE SIGHS I want them... Thank you, Dorcas.

I have to go down to the village... ..to see our agent about those estate accounts.

And no-one need sit up for me.

I'll take the latchkey.

DOOR OPENS DOOR CLOSES Dashed funny time of night to go and see Denby.

BIRD SQUAWKS LOUD EXPLOSIONS MARY: 'Mother!

'Mother!'

JOHN: 'Mother!'

HE GASPS, KNOCKING AT DOOR JOHN: Mother!

Mother!

KNOCKING CONTINUES JOHN: Open the door!

Mother!

EMILY CRYING Mother!

Open the door!

- What are we gonna do?

- What's the matter?

Mother seems to be having some kind of fit.

She's locked herself in, though.

Try going through Mr Inglethorp's room, sir.

EMILY GROANS EMILY: Oh, Alfred.

Alfred!

Locked.

DORCAS: Oh, poor mistress.

JOHN: I'll have to try and break the door down.

Beth, go and get Dr Wilkins at once.

There's a door on the other side from Cynthia's room.

DORCAS: It's usually bolted, sir.

HASTINGS: It's worth a try.

Mary!

Have you got the door open yet?

- No.

- That one's locked too.

- Damn!

- I can't wake Cynthia.

She must have taken the sleeping powder.

Cynthia!

EMILY SCREAMING Try again.

One, two, three.

- Once more.

One, two, three.

EMILY: Help me!

EMILY PANTING Annie, get some brandy from the dining room.

MARY: Let us in.

I've managed to wake Cynthia.

- Are you all right?

- I took a sleeping powder.

What's the matter?

EMILY WHIMPERS Oh, better now.

Very sudden.

EMILY PANTS Stupid of me.

Stupid of me to lock myself in.

JOHN: It's all right.

It's all right.

Feeling a little better now.

EMILY GROANS EMILY GASPS Out of my way.

Out of my way.

Alfred!

Help!

EMILY GROANS EMILY EXHALES DEEPLY DR WILKINS: No!

Is she dead?

Oh, God.

DOOR SLAMS KEY RATTLES IN LOCK DOOR LOCK RATTLES KEYS JANGLE - Where is Mr Inglethorp?

- He's not in the house.

DR WILKINS: Where is he?

Mr Cavendish, I would like your consent to a postmortem, then.

But that's not necessary.

Surely it was a heart attack.

Oh, no, I'm sorry.

Mrs Inglethorp showed classic symptoms of strychnine poisoning.

That can't be.

Do whatever you think necessary, Dr Wilkins.

These are your mother's keys.

I've locked both the rooms.

I suggest they remain locked for the time being.

DOOR OPENS DOOR CLOSES You remember my speaking of my friend Poirot, the Belgian in the village.

Oh, the one who used to be a detective?

Yes.

I want you to let me call him in to investigate this business.

This is all rubbish, you know.

Wilkins has got a bee in his bonnet about poisons.

Poisons are his hobby, so of course he sees them everywhere.

I'm inclined to give Hastings a free hand, Lawrence.

Though I should prefer to wait a bit.

We don't want unnecessary scandal.

No, no, no.

You need have no worry about that.

Poirot is discretion itself.

- All right.

- No, John!

I'm sorry, Lawrence.

Dear God, this is terrible.

My poor wife.

- Where have you been?

- Denby kept me late last night.

Then I discovered that I'd forgotten the latchkey.

Denby gave me a bed so that I wouldn't have to arouse the household.

Oh, my poor Emily.

She was so self-sacrificing.

She overtaxed herself.

- I'd better get on my way.

- Yes.

Yes, of course.

RAPPING ON DOOR Oui?

Monsieur Poirot.

Good morning.

Ah, Hastings.

You rise early.

Mrs Inglethorp is dead.

One moment.

I am pleased with you, Hastings.

You have a good memory, and have given to me faithfully the facts.

But of the order in which you present them, I say nothing.

Truly, it is deplorable.

Oh, but I make allowances.

You are upset.

Later, when you are calmer, we will arrange the facts neatly, each in his proper place.

And those of importance we will place on one side, and those of no importance... HE BLOWS SOFTLY ..we blow them away.

But whatever allowances I make, I cannot escape the fact that you have omitted one piece of evidence of the paramount importance.

And what's that?

You did not say to me if Madame Inglethorp ate well last night.

Oh.

Well, as far as I can remember, she hardly ate at all.

She was obviously upset and it had taken away her appetite.

I see.

Tres bien.

Er, Hastings, you dressed in haste.

Your tie is to one side.

One must not let oneself go, Hastings.

Why did you want to know if Mrs Inglethorp ate well last night?

The contention at the present is that Madame Inglethorp died of the strychnine poisoning, no?

- It looked like it to me.

- Bon.

At what time did Madame Inglethorp retire for the night?

Oh, very early.

About eight o'clock.

And yet the symptoms did not manifest themselves until five in the morning.

Nine hours.

Now, a heavy meal taken at about the same time as the poison might retard its effects, but hardly to that extent.

And you say to me that Madame Inglethorp ate very little for supper.

- Yes.

- Mm.

One of those curious little facts, mon ami.

We put it here.

JOHN: This is a very dreadful business, Monsieur Poirot.

Hastings has explained that we're anxious to avoid publicity.

I comprehend perfectly.

- You know Inglethorp's back.

- Yes, I met him.

It's damn difficult to know how to treat him.

That difficulty will not exist for long.

The key to the room if you please, monsieur.

Of course.

KEYS JANGLE Merci.

DOOR LOCK CLICKING POIROT: Hastings, we must leave this until the lawyer of Madame Inglethorp is present.

HASTINGS: This goes through to Cynthia's room.

What is it?

We shall see.

I think that this is cocoa, mon ami, but we must send it for analysis.

Ah.

Regard, mon ami.

The chimney piece of the lamp is broken in two places only and yet the coffee cup next to it is ground almost to the powder.

HASTINGS: I suppose somebody must have stepped on it.

Yes, mon ami.

Somebody must have stepped on that coffee cup and ground it almost to the powder.

And the reason that they did so was either because it contained the strychnine or, which is far more serious, because it did not contain the strychnine.

I wonder what is that.

POIROT SNIFFS Mm.

This, I think, is a coffee stain that is quite fresh.

Eh bien, Hastings, we have in this room now six points of interest.

Shall I catalogue them or will you?

Oh.

Er... Well, erm... You.

Very well.

Number one.

A coffee cup that is ground almost to the powder.

Number two, the dispatch case with a key in the lock.

Number three, the coffee stain on the carpet.

Number four, a thread or two of dark-green material caught on the bolt of that door.

Ah, that's what you put in the envelope.

Oui.

D'accord.

And number five, this.

HASTINGS: What is it?

- Candle grease, my friend.

It must have dropped to the floor since yesterday.

Otherwise, the good housemaid would have removed it.

Lawrence Cavendish brought a candle into the room this morning.

He seemed very agitated.

He seemed to see something over there that absolutely paralysed him.

POIROT: At the door, do you think?

HASTINGS: No, at the fireplace.

POIROT: That is most interesting, mon ami.

But his candle, it is pink, and that candle grease over there, it is white.

HASTINGS: And the sixth point?

No, the sixth point I prefer to keep to myself at the present.

Alors, there is nothing more to do here, I think.

Unless... A bedroom fire in midsummer, Hastings?

A fire warms, but it also destroys.

There might be... Ah!

Voila!

What do you think of that, mon ami?

HASTINGS: Very thick paper.

Much thicker than ordinary writing paper.

POIROT: And?

- A will!

This could be a fragment of a will.

That could be "Will and testament".

POIROT: Exactement.

Just as I expected.

POIROT: Tell me, mademoiselle.

Did your mistress have in her wardrobe a dress that is dark green?

No, sir.

Does anyone in the house possess a dress that is dark green?

No, sir.

Not that I know of.

Very well.

We will leave that and pass on.

I would like to ask you, if I may, one or two questions about the afternoon of yesterday.

Yes, sir.

Your mistress... She had a quarrel?

I don't know that I ought... My good Dorcas.

Madame Inglethorp lies dead and it is necessary that we must know all if we are to avenge her.

Amen to that, sir.

Er... naming no names, there's one in this house none of us could ever abide.

Ah.

Now, as to this quarrel... It was about four o'clock.

I happened to be passing the study, and I heard voices, loud, angry ones, coming from there.

I didn't mean to listen.

Continue, mademoiselle.

What happened next?

At five o'clock, Mrs Inglethorp rang the bell and told me to bring her a cup of tea.

'She looked dreadful, sir.'

Your tea, ma'am.

I've had a great shock, Dorcas.

DORCAS: I'm sorry for that, ma'am.

I don't know what to do.

Scandal between a husband and wife is a dreadful thing.

These few words and everything has changed.

Never trust a man, Dorcas.

They're not worth it.

Tell me, mademoiselle, this paper that she had in her hand... What would she likely do with it afterwards, do you think?

I expect she'd lock it up in that purple case of hers.

If it was important.

I see.

Tell me, mademoiselle, do you think it likely that your mistress would have taken a sleeping powder last night?

Not last night, sir.

I know she didn't.

She took the last dose of her tonic, but she never took a sleeping powder.

How is it that you are so positive?

The box was empty, sir.

She took the last one two days ago, and she didn't have any more made up.

Oh, Miss Howard, it's so good to see you again.

Terrible time to come back, Dorcas.

Evie.

SHE SNIFFLES I started the moment I got the wire.

- Dorcas will make us some tea.

- I don't want tea.

KNOCKING AT DOOR Ah, here's Mr Poirot.

Mr Poirot's helping us with our investigations.

Nothing to investigate.

Have they taken him to prison yet?

- Taken who to prison?

- Alfred Inglethorp, of course.

Poor Emily was never murdered till he came along.

Evie, don't shout so.

DOOR CLOSES Whatever we may think or suspect, it's better to say as little as possible for the present.

The inquest isn't until Friday.

Inquest?

Fiddlesticks!

The man will be out of the country by then.

He won't stay here tamely waiting to be hanged.

- Mademoiselle... - It's no good trying all that.

Mr Alfred Inglethorp is going to hang, even if I have to drag him to the gallows myself.

How did you know that Mrs Inglethorp took sleeping powders?

Ah.

Because, Hastings, I found this in the drawer of the washstand in her bedroom.

It was this that was the number six of my catalogue.

But if the last powder was taken two days ago, it can't be that important.

Probably not.

FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING Mr Poirot, my mother's lawyer is here.

I don't know if you'd like to talk to him.

He's also the coroner, you understand.

Yes.

Yes.

Thank you, Monsieur Cavendish.

Monsieur Wells, there is one thing that I should like to ask you, that is if it is not against the professional etiquette.

In the event of the death of Madame Inglethorp, who would inherit her money?

It's all right.

By her last will, dated two months ago, she left this and her house in London to her eldest son, Mr John Cavendish.

The remainder of her fortune goes to Mr Inglethorp.

Ah.

And suppose that, unknown to you, she made a new will?

It's always possible, of course.

There was a new will.

- What?

- Where is it now?

Burnt.

JOHN: What an extraordinary coincidence that my mother should have made a will on the very day of her death.

Are you so sure it's a coincidence?

JOHN: What do you mean?

Your mother, you tell me, had a violent quarrel with someone yesterday afternoon.

In consequence of that quarrel, she very suddenly and hurriedly makes a new will.

She told no-one of its provisions.

The will disappears, and she takes its secret to her grave.

I fear there is no coincidence here.

What do you mean?

You've got the keys still, haven't you, Mr Poirot?

Oui.

Voila.

KEY CLICKING IN DOOR LOCK My mother kept some things in this.

You will need the key because I locked it this morning.

- It's not locked now.

- Mais c'est impossible.

But I have had the key in my pocket for all of the day.

En voila une affaire.

This lock, it has been forced.

This door, it is unbolted.

Why?

When?

There must have been something of great importance in that case.

Something that connected the murderer with the crime.

- What?

- Ah!

That I do not know.

An intriguing case, this, mon ami, do you not think?

It seems quite straightforward, really.

Everything seems to be tied up with Mrs Inglethorp's money.

And her two houses, Hastings.

Well, yes.

They go to John.

Everything else goes to her husband.

But then they had that dreadful row, the one that Dorcas overheard, and Mrs Inglethorp changes her will.

And what about her two sons, Hastings?

Oh, I don't imagine they're involved.

No, what happens is, Inglethorp finds out that the will has been changed, leaving everything to her son rather than him, and poisons her.

- And the new will she has made?

HASTINGS: He burns it.

That was the scrap of paper we found in her bedroom grate.

Ah.

You have a good grip on this affair, Hastings.

- Grasp.

- Yes?

You know, Hastings, there are, in this case, only two points of any significance.

Oh, really?

What are they?

The first is the state of the weather on Tuesday.

But it was a beautiful day.

Must have been 80 degrees in the shade.

Not a cloud in the sky.

POIROT: Do not forget that, mon ami.

It is the key to the whole riddle.

HASTINGS: I don't see why.

All right, then.

What's the second point?

The second point is the important fact that Monsieur Inglethorp wore the peculiar clothes, wears the black beard and uses the spectacles.

- That's ridiculous.

- No, mon ami.

It is momentous.

WELLS: Dr Wilkins, can you tell us exactly how much poison Mrs Inglethorp had consumed?

Judging from the amount recovered, Mrs Inglethorp had ingested about three quarters of a grain of strychnine.

Possibly a grain.

I took a sample of the cocoa remaining in the cup in Mrs Inglethorp's room.

There was no strychnine in it.

Then you consider it more likely that the drug was administered in her after-dinner coffee, and that for some reason unknown, its action was delayed?

Yes.

But the coffee cup was so completely smashed, there was no possibility of analysing its contents.

It seems to me that my mother's death may be accounted for by natural means.

Really?

Well, my mother was, for some time before her death, taking a tonic containing strychnine.

That was dealt with in previous evidence.

But is it not possible that she may have taken an overdose of the medicine by accident?

WELLS: I think not, Mr Cavendish.

The maid, Dorcas, has already told us she had only one dose left on the day before her death.

I should be obliged if you would tell us all you overheard of the quarrel the day before Mrs Inglethorp's death.

I overheard?

Yes.

I understand you were sitting reading on a bench outside the open window of the study.

Is that not so?

Yes.

WELLS: Will you repeat what you overheard of the quarrel?

I really don't remember hearing anything.

Do you mean to say you did not hear voices?

W-Well, yes.

I heard the voices.

But I didn't hear what they said.

Not one stray word or phrase?

Yes, I remember.

Mrs Inglethorp said something.

Something about causing a scandal between husband and wife.

She sounds as if she's trying to hide something.

- That is true, Hastings.

- WELLS: Call Mr Mace.

It is of some interest.

I swear by Almighty God that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Mr Mace, as a qualified dispensing chemist with a shop in the village of Styles St Mary, have you lately sold strychnine to any unauthorised person?

Yes, sir.

WELLS: When was this?

Monday, the 18th of June.

At about six o'clock.

Would you tell us to whom you sold it?

Yes, sir.

It was Mr Inglethorp.

He... He said it was to poison a dog.

He signed the poison book and everything.

Very well.

Thank you, Mr Mace.

Call Mr Alfred Inglethorp.

I swear by Almighty God that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

WELLS: Are you Alfred Inglethorp?

Yes.

On Monday evening last, did you purchase strychnine for the purpose of poisoning a dog?

No.

I did not.

There is no dog at Styles Court.

SPECTATORS MURMUR Do you also deny that you signed this register?

ALFRED: Yes.

Mm.

That is not my signature.

I see.

Would you mind telling us, Mr Inglethorp, where you were on the evening of Monday, June the 18th?

I don't recall.

Were you in company with anyone?

No.

I am to take it then that you decline to say where you were at the time that Mr Mace positively recognised you as entering the shop to purchase strychnine.

If you like to take it that way, yes.

SPECTATORS MURMUR Does he want to be arrested?

WELLS: You had a discussion with your wife on Tuesday afternoon.

Pardon me.

You are misinformed.

I had no quarrel with my dear wife.

I was absent from the house the entire afternoon.

Have you anyone who can testify to that?

You have my word.

WELLS: There are two witnesses who have sworn to having overheard your disagreement with Mrs Inglethorp.

Then those witnesses are mistaken.

SPECTATORS MURMUR Very well.

Thank you, Mr Inglethorp.

That will be all for now.

Members of the jury... He's put a noose right 'round his neck!

Perhaps.

Hastings, do you know who is that man by the door?

WELLS: ..testimony of Dr Wilkins that the deceased, Mrs Inglethorp... That is Detective Inspector James Japp from Scotland Yard.

And, if I am not mistaken, the man next to him is also from Scotland Yard.

Things are moving quickly, my friend.

Perhaps too quickly.

WELLS: Gentlemen of the jury.

How do you find?

Wilful murder by some person or persons unknown.

SPECTATORS MURMUR WELLS: And is that the verdict of you all?

MAN: It is.

POIROT: Mon Dieu.

I had some warm moments in the court, Hastings.

I did not figure to myself that the man would be so pig-headed as to refuse to say anything at all.

I can't understand why the jury didn't name Inglethorp.

You surely can't still believe he's innocent.

Why not, mon ami?

Nothing has changed.

Ah.

I see you do not remember me, Inspector Japp.

Well, if it isn't Monsieur Poirot!

JAPP CHUCKLES This is Superintendent Summerhaye.

You've heard me speak of Monsieur Poirot, sir.

The Abercrombie forgery case, wasn't it, just before the war?

- That's right, sir.

Monsieur Poirot caught our villain for us in Antwerp.

What are you doing in England, Poirot?

Well, the Boche has made my own country temporarily uninhabitable by their presence, Inspector.

But I would like you to meet my friend Lieutenant Hastings.

- How do you do?

- How do you do?

Excuse us.

Well, one need hardly ask the reason for your presence here, Inspector.

No.

Pretty clear case, I should say.

There I differ from you.

From the evidence I heard at the inquest, Mr Inglethorp murdered his wife as sure as I'm standing here.

I don't know, sir.

Me and Monsieur Poirot have met before, and there's no man's judgment I'd sooner take than his.

If I'm not greatly mistaken, he's got something up his sleeve.

Well, I will tell you this.

If you arrest Monsieur Alfred Inglethorp, it will bring you no kudos.

The case against him will be dismissed comme ca.

I'd take your word, but there's others above me might not.

Me, for one.

Alfred Inglethorp must not be arrested, Superintendent.

That I have sworn.

Have you ever been to New York, Hastings?

- New York?

No.

- No?

It is a beautiful city.

Beautiful.

There each street is at right angles to each avenue and each avenue is numbered nicely... first, second, third, fourth.

Man is in command there.

But here... How does one live with the fact that, au fond, nature is untidy, uncontrolled, anarchic, inefficient?

But that's what I like about it.

Hastings, did it not strike you as peculiar that Monsieur Lawrence Cavendish has suggested that his mother might have been poisoned by accident?

Oh, it seemed quite a natural suggestion for a layman to make.

But he is not a layman.

You have told me yourself that he has a degree in medicine.

Yes, that's true.

I'd forgotten about that.

And then there is also Madame Cavendish.

What did you make of her attitude?

Well, it seems inconceivable that she should be shielding Inglethorp, but that's what it looked like.

Oui, d'accord.

A great deal that was peculiar showed itself today.

Where are we going, Poirot?

To see the beautiful Madame Raikes, Hastings.

She's an absolute corker, you know.

Thank you.

No, no, no, no, no, Hastings.

I am going to see the beautiful Madame Raikes.

You, I fear, are far too impressionable for this particular task.

KNOCKING ON DOOR - Who's that?

- I don't know.

I'll go out the back way.

DOOR CLOSES KNOCKING ON DOOR Bonjour, Madame Raikes.

JAPP: We'd like you to come into Malmesbury with us, Mr Inglethorp.

- Malmesbury?

JAPP: To the station.

You're arresting him, are you?

About time, too.

We'd just like Mr Inglethorp to answer a few questions, madame.

Mesdames.

One moment, if you please, Inspector Japp.

Now you just leave well alone, Mr Poirot.

Sorry, Monsieur Poirot.

I understand.

Superintendent, I beg of you to allow me to ask to Monsieur Inglethorp just one question.

Go on, then.

Thank you, Superintendent.

Mr Inglethorp, do you still refuse to say where you were at six o'clock on Monday afternoon?

Speak!

Very well.

Then I must speak for you.

You?

How can you?

I speak.

Listen!

I, Hercule Poirot, affirm that the man who bought the strychnine poison on Monday afternoon at six o'clock was not Alfred Inglethorp.

For at six o'clock on that day, Monsieur Alfred Inglethorp was at Tadminster.

I can produce no less than five witnesses who swear to have seen him and to have spoken to him there at six o'clock or just after.

And as you may know, Tadminster is at least eight miles from the village.

My word, Poirot, you're the goods.

Didn't I tell you, sir?

These witnesses of yours are all right, I suppose?

Voila.

I have made a catalogue of them.

Names and addresses.

You will find them all perfectly genuine.

They even include the charming Madame Raikes.

Didn't I tell you, sir?

So we're back to square one, then.

Well, not quite, mon ami.

We now know there is one person who did not buy the poison.

Eh bien, we have cleared away the clues manufactured.

Now for the real ones.

HORSE SNORTS "..and is cut down, like a flower, "he fleeth as it were a shadow, "and never continueth in one stay.

"In the midst of life we are in death.

"Of whom may we seek for succour, "but of thee, O Lord, "who for our sins art justly displeased?

"Yet, O Lord God most holy, "O Lord most mighty, "O holy and most merciful Saviour, "deliver us not "into the bitter pains of eternal death."

- Lieutenant Hastings, sir.

- Yes, Dorcas.

I know this is hardly the time or the place, but you remember this foreign gentleman particularly asked if my mistress or anyone else in the house had got a green dress?

- Yes, go on.

- Well, I've just remembered.

What the young gentlemen used to call a dressing-up box.

It's up in the front attic.

This is green.

No, it is too dark.

Good Lord!

POIROT: Uh-huh.

Hold it up to your face, Hastings.

Do you think it's the one?

I do.

It is trimmed exactly to the same shape as the beard of Monsieur Inglethorp.

The question is, who put it there?

Someone with a great deal of intelligence, Hastings.

He chose to hide it in the one place where its presence would not be remarked.

But we must be even more intelligent.

We must be so intelligent that he does not suspect us of being intelligent at all.

Absolutely.

And there you will be invaluable, mon ami.

Come.

Well, he took the hint at last.

Comment?

He's moved out.

Gone to the hotel at Malmesbury.

DOOR OPENS DOOR CLOSES - Oh, Lieutenant Hastings.

- Hello, Cynthia.

Just the man I was looking for.

I want to talk to you.

Can I steal him away from you, Mr Poirot?

Steal him away?

Ah!

Pardon.

Yes.

By all means, Mademoiselle Murdoch.

Hastings, how I envy you, eh?

To be stealed away by such a charming young lady.

Excuse me.

What do you want to talk about?

Let's sit down first, shall we?

Oh.

Right.

Lieutenant Hastings, you've always been so kind.

And you know such a lot.

Oh.

Well.

You know.

Well, I want to ask your advice.

You see, Aunt Emily always said I should be provided for.

Well, I suppose she forgot.

Or didn't think she was likely to die.

Anyway, I'm not provided for.

I don't know what to do.

Do you think I ought to go away from here?

Oh, good heavens, no.

They don't want to part with you, I'm sure.

Mary does.

She hates me.

HASTINGS: Hates you?

- I don't know why.

And he can't bear me, either.

Well, now, there I know you're wrong.

John's very fond of you.

- Oh, yes.

Not John.

I meant Lawrence.

Not that I care whether Lawrence hates me or not.

Still... It's rather horrid when no-one loves you, isn't it?

But they do, Cynthia.

I'm sure you're mistaken.

There's John and Miss Howard.

Lawrence never speaks to me if he can help it.

And Mary can hardly bring herself to be civil to me, and... I don't know what to do!

SHE SOBS SHE SNIFFLES - Marry me, Cynthia.

- Oh!

SHE SNIFFLES - Oh, don't be silly.

- I'm not being silly.

I'm asking you to do me the honour of becoming my wife.

Oh, that's perfectly sweet of you.

SHE CHUCKLES I don't think there's anything to laugh at.

There's nothing funny about a proposal of marriage.

No, there isn't.

And you ought to be careful.

SHE CHUCKLES Because somebody might accept you next time.

Goodbye, Lieutenant Hastings.

You've cheered me up no end.

HASTINGS: 'I don't know.'

Perhaps I just don't understand women or something.

No, I'm just joking, of course.

CAR ENGINE IDLING, CAR DOOR CLOSES It's Inspector Japp.

Hastings, who is that with him in the back of the car?

Looks like Lawrence Cavendish.

DORCAS SOBBING HASTINGS: What's the matter, Dorcas?

Those wicked detectives!

They've arrested Mr Cavendish!

Arrested Lawrence?

No.

Not Mr Lawrence.

Mr John!

DORCAS SOBS YOUNG MAN: Old Bailey murder trial!

Read all about it!

Cavendish in dock!

Old Bailey murder trial!

MAN: John Wendover Cavendish, you are charged with the murder of your mother, Mrs Emily Rose Inglethorp, on Tuesday, the 19th day of June, 1917.

How do you plead?

Not guilty.

SPECTATORS MURMUR Members of the jury, as you all know, wilful murder is a hanging matter.

And the murder which you will hear described is a most horrible, premeditated and cold-blooded one.

The poisoning of a fond and trusting woman by her own son.

The accused and his wife lived in some luxury at his mother's house, Styles Court, entirely supported by her.

Mrs Inglethorp had been their kind and generous benefactress.

I will call witnesses to show how the prisoner was at the end of his financial tether.

You will also hear how the accused had been carrying on an intrigue with a certain Mrs Raikes, a local farmer's widow.

SHE SIGHS PHILIPS: And how he had plotted to get his mother to make a will in his favour and how, when he believed that she had changed that will, he murdered her and destroyed the new one.

You will hear... I cannot bring myself to listen to any more of this, Hastings.

It sounds very bad, n'est-ce pas?

It'll probably sound better when the defence gets going.

I don't know how Mary Cavendish can bear to sit there.

Ah, well.

She is one of those women who show at their best in adversity.

Her jealousy and her pride... - Jealousy?

Well, yes.

Have you not yet realised, Hastings, that Madame Cavendish is a woman of unusual jealousy?

You overheard the fragment of conversation that she had with her mother-in-law, when she demanded that Madame Inglethorp show to her something?

Yes.

POIROT: Madame Cavendish believed that the letter her mother-in-law was concealing was proof of the infidelity of her husband John.

But she was wrong, Hastings.

There was no such letter.

What Madame Inglethorp had discovered... ..was that her son John had loaned to Madame Raikes... and I heard this from Madame Raikes herself, Hastings... had loaned her a large sum of money in order that Madame Raikes might purchase the freehold of a cottage.

You deny that there was anything improper in your relationship with John Cavendish.

Yes.

PHILIPS: I see.

Did you receive money from Mr Cavendish?

No.

You also deny, then, that Mr Cavendish gave you a cheque for £200 on the 21st of June last?

That was a loan.

Thank you, Mrs Raikes.

I have no further questions, my lord.

JUDGE: Very well, Mr Philips.

That seems a convenient time to adjourn.

CLERK: The court will rise.

KNOCKING ON DOOR HASTINGS: Is this your first time in London, Poirot?

Mrs Inglethorp must have been very wealthy, with this beautiful house and Styles Court.

Are you going to be doing this all day?

I steady my nerves.

That is all.

This employment... ..requires precision of the fingers.

And with precision of the fingers goes precision of the brain.

And never have I needed that more than now.

Absolutely.

I can build a house of cards seven storeys high by placing one card on top of another with a mathematical precision, eh?

But I cannot find the last link in this so-mysterious case!

HASTINGS: Well, you've got a steady hand, Poirot, I must say.

I think I've only ever seen your hands shake once.

On an occasion when I was enraged, no doubt.

It was in Mrs Inglethorp's room, just after we discovered that the locks on the dispatch case had been forced.

Ah, yes.

You stood by the mantelpiece, rearranging the ornaments as you always do, and your hand shook like a leaf.

Because I was enraged.

I was enraged that... Oh, mon Dieu!

- What is it?

I have an idea, that is all, but... Mon Dieu!

Au garage!

Au garage!

For the love of heaven, madame, direct me to the garage!

Someone must drive me.

I must have a car immediatement!

Can you go no faster, driver?

Not unless you want us to have an accident, sir.

No, no, no.

No.

No.

Just as you please.

You know best.

The correct position for your hands on the steering wheel is ten minutes to two, is it not?

BELL RINGS Mademoiselle Dorcas.

Tell me, mademoiselle, has anyone been in the bedroom of Madame Inglethorp since we left the house?

No, sir, it's locked and we all kept a good lookout on it.

- Good.

- Monsieur Poirot.

- Yes?

- The keys.

Ah.

Thank you.

HE SIGHS There.

You see?

Already the strychnine is beginning to precipitate and fall to the bottom.

In a few hours, it will form colourless crystals... Which remain at the bottom of the liquid?

..which remain at the bottom of the liquid.

PHILIPS: Inspector Japp, when, in the course of your investigations, you searched the bedroom of the accused at Styles Court, did you find anything?

I did.

PHILIPS: Will you tell the court what you found?

In the chest of drawers in Mr Cavendish's room, underneath some clothing, I found a small poison bottle.

It was empty.

SPECTATORS MURMUR PHILIPS: We'll introduce Exhibit D.

- Is this the bottle?

- Yes, sir.

Did you have the bottle examined?

I did.

It was examined by the laboratory at Scotland Yard, and was found to contain traces of strychnine.

Ah.

SPECTATORS MURMUR HASTINGS SIGHS Where is he?

MARY: He telephoned earlier to say he'd be back in London this evening.

He asked me to arrange for everyone to be here.

SHE SIGHS - What did he mean?

- I don't know.

Oh, it really is too bad of him.

VEHICLE APPROACHES Here he is now.

No.

Oh, that's Inspector Japp.

Evening.

Where's Poirot?

We don't know.

He ran off this afternoon.

Well, I got a phone message saying I was to be here at seven.

You'd better go up, then.

I haven't had my tea yet, you know.

Oh.

Good evening.

- May I ask what's going on?

- You may ask, madam.

If you get any reply you might let me know.

VEHICLE APPROACHING Here he is.

What on earth is he doing?

Seems to be giving the driver a driving lesson.

HORN SOUNDS Where on earth have you been, Poirot?

Good evening, Hastings.

Good evening, Madame Cavendish.

We are assembled, yes?

Bon.

Please.

We are all assembled, yes?

With one exception.

Pardon, but I must ask you to wait a few moments longer for the arrival of Monsieur Inglethorp.

If that man comes into the house, I leave it.

Oh, no, no, Mademoiselle Howard, you must not do this.

Remember, mademoiselle, that this is for the sake of your dear friend, the late Madame Inglethorp.

VEHICLE APPROACHING VEHICLE DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES DOORBELL RINGS ALFRED: Why have I been summoned?

What's going on?

I wish I knew, old boy.

Ah, voila, Monsieur Inglethorp.

Asseyez-vous, monsieur.

Mesdames et monsieurs, good evening.

As you all know, I was invited to investigate this case by Monsieur John Cavendish, who tonight, in his prison cell, awaits the verdict of the jury.

I at once examined the bedroom of the deceased and I found several things indicative.

To take first, a fragment of dark green material.

I found it caught on the bolt of the communicating door between that room and the room of Mademoiselle Cynthia.

Now, for a long time, I did not recognise it for what it was, this material.

It was a piece torn from a green land armlet.

At Styles, there was only one person who worked on the land.

Madame Cavendish.

Therefore, it had to be Madame Cavendish who entered the room by that door.

But that door was bolted on the inside.

When I examined the room, Hastings, yes.

But, in the first place, we only have the word of Madame Cavendish to say that the door was locked.

And in the confusion that followed, there was ample time for her to bolt it again.

No.

I am convinced... ..that Madame Cavendish was actually in the room... DOOR CREAKS OPEN ..when the deceased was taken ill.

'Her reasons for entering the bedroom of Madame Inglethorp 'are to do with her terrible jealousy, 'for she had learned of the existence of a letter.

'But it was this letter 'that she had confronted Madame Inglethorp about, 'and which she believed would show the proof 'of the infidelity of her husband 'with Madame Raikes.

'At that moment, 'she was quite literally mad with her jealousy.

'Mad enough to creep into the bedroom of her mother-in-law 'in order to retrieve that paper.'

EMILY SCREAMS CLATTERING Alfred!

POIROT: Am I not right, madame?

LAWRENCE: So it was you who destroyed the will.

No, no, no, no, Monsieur Lawrence.

There was only one person who could have possibly destroyed that will.

Madame Inglethorp herself.

But she only made it out that very afternoon.

Nevertheless, mon ami.

The temperature that day was 80 degrees in the shade, mm?

Oh, yes, it was very hot.

And yet Madame Inglethorp ordered a fire to be lighted in her room.

Why?

Because she wanted to burn something.

Precisement, Inspector Japp.

Now, at four o'clock, Madame Inglethorp quarrels with her son and threatens to denounce him to his wife.

..squandering large sums of money on her.

It's not a large sum of money!

And anyway, it's a loan.

- No!

My mind is made up!

And you need not think that any fear of scandal between husband and wife will deter me.

POIROT: 'It was this argument which Dorcas overheard.

'But she mistook John Cavendish for Monsieur Inglethorp.

'At four thirty, she makes a new will, 'eliminating John Cavendish from his inheritance.'

Now I must conjecture.

But I believe my conjecture to be correct.

She writes a letter to her lawyer, Monsieur Wells, asking him to call on her to finalise the new will.

'She finds she has no stamps in her desk.

'So she goes to the desk of her husband 'to see if he has any stamps.

'It is locked, 'so she opens it using her own key.'

She discovers a paper, that very paper that Madame Cavendish believed to be the written proof of the infidelity of her husband John, but was, in fact, far more serious.

Is this really necessary?

All we need to know is who put the poison in my mother's coffee and why the poison took so long to act.

Yes, that is very true, Monsieur, but here we have the little problem, because Madame Inglethorp, she did not drink the coffee.

- What?

- No.

The stain on the carpet was the coffee.

She must have spilt it before she could drink it.

But, feeling in need of a hot drink, she heated up her cocoa and drank that.

If the strychnine wasn't in the coffee and we know it wasn't in the cocoa, where was it?

Ah.

Now I will pose to you all the little question, eh?

What third medium was there readily to hand, a medium so suitable for the disguising of the strychnine that it is absolutely extraordinary that no-one has thought of it?

Hastings?

I've no idea.

No?

No?

Inspector Japp?

Her medicine.

Somebody put strychnine in her tonic?

No, there was no need, Hastings.

It was already there.

The strychnine that poisoned Madame Inglethorp was the same strychnine prescribed quite legitimately by Dr Wilkins.

The addition of bromide to a solution containing strychnine precipitates all the strychnine into colourless crystals, which fall to the bottom of the mixture.

It is likely that the last dose... ..is fatal.

Someone added her sleeping powders to her tonic?

Yes, Inspector.

But the last link in the chain was a paper one, eh?

But it was not a will.

You see, our murderer wrote a letter.

And that letter excepted, there was nothing to connect the murderer with the crime.

But Madame Inglethorp found the letter, locked it in her dispatch case, and took it to her room.

It became essential... ..that that letter should be retrieved.

'Without it, certain doom faced our murderer.

'But I had already locked the briefcase of Madame Inglethorp 'on the morning of her death.

'At the very moment of trying to retrieve the letter, 'I was approaching the room 'with Monsieur John Cavendish and Monsieur Wells, the lawyer.'

..Evie's gonna do more harm... POIROT: 'Desperately, the murderer looks 'for somewhere to conceal it.

'But there is no way in the room of destroying the letter.

'In a moment, the letter is torn into three long strips...' You've got the keys still... POIROT: '..rolled into the spills 'and placed amongst the other spills on the mantelpiece.

'The murderer then unbolts the door 'to the room of Mademoiselle Cynthia 'and gets away.'

JOHN: My mother kept some things in this.

And there, mes amis, they remained, until they were found by Poirot.

Oh, yes.

The little grey cells have done well today.

Un... ..deux... ..trois.

"Tonight is the night. '

"There is a good time coming ' "once the old woman is dead and out of the way. '

"No-one can possibly bring home the crime to me. '

"That idea of yours about the bromide ' "was a stroke of genius.'

"We must..." And here the writer breaks off.

It must warm your heart... ..to know that your lover thought so fondly of you that he could not bear but to bring himself to write to you at this so important moment... ..Mademoiselle Howard.

Me?

It's nothing to do with me.

Oh, but it is everything to do with you, mademoiselle.

Did I omit to read the greeting on this letter?

Forgive me.

"My dearest Evelyn."

You fool!

You bloody fool!

Be quiet, Evie.

No, it is too late for silence, Monsieur Inglethorp.

The handwriting on this letter shouts your guilt.

You are a heartless murderer.

How dare you?

How dare you make such an accusation?

Oh, Monsieur Inglethorp.

You do disappoint me.

All right.

We love each other.

Take them away, Inspector Japp.

Do you think we were going to sit and wait for the old bitch to die?

We deserve the money anyway.

And I'm not sorry.

I'm not the least little bit sorry.

Mr Inglethorp.

Madam.

MARY: How horrible.

How horrible.

But why did he keep the letter?

Ah.

He never finished writing it, you see, mon ami.

Possibly Madame Inglethorp returned early, interrupted him, and, caught in the act, he hastily shuts and locks his desk.

The rest we know.

Madame Inglethorp finds the letter, decides to say nothing about it to her husband, but determines to destroy the will she had just made in his favour.

Probably the next day she intends to make a will in favour of her son John again, but... ..death intervened.

I can't tell you how awful it's been, Monsieur Poirot.

I've had the worst six weeks of my life.

I never for one moment believed you did it.

Inspector Japp and the whole of Scotland Yard believed it, Hastings.

- Poor Mother.

- It's all over now.

It's a good thing we have Monsieur Poirot.

I really don't know how to thank you, Monsieur Poirot.

- It was nothing, monsieur.

- I thought I was done for.

You must learn to have faith in Poirot.

- Monsieur Poirot.

- Madame.

Come on, John.

I want to hear everything about it.

Do you know, Hastings, I owe the final discovery of the spills entirely to you.

- Really?

- Oh, yes.

Do you remember telling me that my hands shook when I straightened the ornaments?

Oh, that's right.

You jumped up and rushed off.

Exactement.

I remembered that when you and I were together in the room of Madame Inglethorp, that I already straightened the ornaments.

Oui!

'Now, if they were already straightened, 'there would be no reason for me 'to have to straighten them again.'

..something that would connected the murderer with the crime.

Unless someone in the meantime had touched them.

Good Lord.

You know, one thing I don't understand is why Inglethorp seemed so keen to get himself arrested.

Because, mon ami, it is the law of your country that, once acquitted, a man cannot be tried for the same offence again.

No, he wished to be tried.

He would then produce his irreproachable alibi and be safe for the rest of his life.

So it was him who bought the strychnine from the chemist's shop.

No, no, no, no, no, Hastings.

Have you not yet realised that it was Mademoiselle Howard who went to the chemist?

- Miss Howard?

- Mais oui.

Of course she was heavily disguised.

The clever devils.

It is good to see them reunited, is it not?

That silly entanglement with Madame Raikes forgotten.

HASTINGS: The things men and women do for love.

POIROT: Ah, oui.

One thing you haven't explained is the peculiar behaviour of Lawrence Cavendish.

I'll never forget the way he looked when we went into Mrs Inglethorp's room.

POIROT: 'That is because you thought 'he was staring at the mantelpiece, yes?

'Whereas, in effect, he was staring 'at the door to the room of Mademoiselle Cynthia, 'right next to the mantelpiece.'

He saw that that door, it was unbolted.

- But he swore it was bolted.

- Exactement.

He was shielding her.

When Monsieur Lawrence saw that the door to the room Mademoiselle Cynthia, it was unbolted, he jumped to the conclusion that she knew something about the murder.

But why?

Why would he want to protect her?

Because he's in love with her, of course.

Well, now, that's just where I know you're wrong.

HASTINGS CHUCKLES I happen to know for a fact that he positively dislikes her.

Indeed?

Then let me enlighten you, mon ami.

He succeeded in crushing the coffee cup beneath his feet, because, Hastings, he remembered that it was in fact Mademoiselle Cynthia who took up the coffee for Madame Inglethorp on the previous night.

Now, from that moment, he quite uselessly and quite strenuously upheld the theory of death by natural causes.

Well, I know you're wrong about this, Poirot... Mr Poirot!

Lieutenant Hastings!

POIROT: Ah.

POIROT LAUGHS Oh, you're both such dear men.

Well, we want to tell you something.

"We"?

You are both to be offered congratulations, is that not so?

Congratulations?

Well, Cynthia and I are to be married.

Where are Mary and John?

Oh.

Er... They're, erm... Come on.

SHE CHUCKLES Hastings.

HASTINGS: What a wonderful girl.

I shall never understand women.

POIROT: Ah.

Console yourself, mon ami.

Perhaps one day, when this terrible war is ended, we shall work again together, eh?

And Poirot will explain all to you.

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