AgathaChristie-TheReggataMystery
Page 16
Poirot smiled too.
"I see! Where Hercule Poirotis concerned--im-mediately
the suspicion of murder arises!"
"Precisely," said the inspector dryly. "How'
ever, after your clearing up of the situation--"
Poirot interrupted him. "One little minute."
He turned to Mrs. Farley. "Had your husband
ever been hypnotized?"
"Never."
"Had he studied the question of hypnotism?
Was he interested in the subject.O"
164
Agatha Christie
She shook her head. "I don't think so."
Suddenly her self-control seemed to break
down. "That horrible dream! It's uncanny! That
he should have dreamed that--night after night--and
then--and then--it's as though he were--
hounded to death!"
Poirot remembered Benedict Farley saying--"I
proceed to do that which I really wish to do. I put
an end to myself."
He said, "Had it ever occurred to you that your
husband might be tempted to do away with him-self?"
"No--at least--sometimes he was very
queer .... "
Joanna Farley's voice broke in clear and scorn-ful.
"Father would never have killed himself. He
was far too careful of himself."
Dr. Stillingfleet said, "It isn't the people who
threaten to commit suicide who usually do it, you
know, Miss Farley. That's why suicides sometimes
seem unaccountable."
Poirot rose to his feet. "Is it permitted," he
asked, "that I see the room where the tragedy oc-curred?''
"Certainly. Dr. Stillingfleet--"
The doctor accompanied Poirot upstairs.
Benedict Farley's room was a much larger one
than the secretary's next door. It was luxuriously
furnished with deep leather-covered armchairs, a
thick pile carpet, and a superb outsize writing-desk.
Poirot passed behind the latter to where a dark
stain on the carpet showed just before the win-dow.
He remembered the millionaire saying, "At
twenty-eight minutes past three I open the second
THE DREAM
165
drawer down on the right of my desk, take out the
revolver that I keep there, load it, and walk over
to the window. And then--and then I shoot my-self."
He nodded slowly. Then he said:
"The window was open like this?"
"Yes. But nobody could have got in that way."
Poirot put his head out. There was no sill or
parapet and no pipes near. Not even a cat could
have gained access that way. Opposite rose the
blank wall of the factory, a dead wall with no win-dows
in it.
Stillingfleet said, "Funny room for a rich man
to choose as his own sanctum with that outlook.
It's like looking out on to a prison wall."
"Yes," said Poirot. He drew his head in and
stared at the expanse of solid brick. "I think," he
said, "that that wall is important."
Stillingfleet looked at him curiously. "You
mean--psychologically?"
Poirot had moved to the desk. Idly, or so it
seemed, he picked up a pair of what are usually
called lazytongs. He pressed the handles; the tongs
shot out to their full length. Delicately, Poirot
picked up a burnt match stump with them from
beside a chair some feet away and conveyed it
carefully to the waste-paper basket.
"When you've finished playing with those
things..." said Stillingfleet irritably.
Hercule Poirot murmured, "An ingenious in-vention,''
and replaced the tongs neatly on the
writing-table. Then he asked:
"Where were Mrs. Farley and Miss Farley at the
time of the--death?"
"Mrs. Farley was resting in her room on the
166
Agatha Christie
floor above this. Miss Farley was painting in her
studio at the top of the house."
Hercule Poirot drummed idly with his fingers
on the table for a minute or two. Then he said:
"I should like to see Miss Farley. Do you think
you could ask her to come here for a minute or
two?"
"If you like."
Stillingfleet glanced at him curiously, then left
the room. In another minute or two the door
opened and Joanna Farley came in.
"You do not mind, mademoiselle, if I ask you a
few questions?"
She returned his glance coolly. "Please ask
anything you choose."
"Did you know that your father kept a revolver
in his desk?"
"No."
"Where were you and your mother--that is to
say your stepmother--that is right?"
"Yes, Louise is my father's second wife. She is
only eight years older than I am. You were about
to say--?"
"Where were you and she on Thursday of last
week? That is to say, on Thursday night."
She reflected for a minute or two.
"Thursday? Let me see. Oh, yes, we had gone
to the theater. To see Little Dog Laughed."
"Your father did not suggest accompanying
you?"
"He never went out to theaters."
"What did he usually do in the evenings?"
"He sat in here and read."
"He was not a very sociable man?"
THE DREAM
167
The girl looked at him directly. "My father,"
she said, "had a singularly unpleasant personality.
No one who lived in close association with him
could possibly be fond of him."
"That, mademoiselle, is a very candid state-ment."
"I am saving you time, M. Poirot. I realize
quite well what you are getting at. My stepmother
married my father for his money. I live here
because I have no money to live elsewhere. There
is a man I wish to marry--a poor man; my father
saw to it that he lost his job. He wanted me, you
see, to marry well--an easy matter since I was to
be his heiress!"
"Your father's fortune passes to you?"
"Yes. That is, he left Louise, my stepmother, a
quarter of a million free of tax, and there are other
legacies, but the residue goes to me." She smiled
suddenly. "So you see, M. Poirot, I had every
reason to desire my father's death!"
"I see, mademoiselle, that you have inherited
your father's intelligence."
She said thoughtfully, "Father was clever ....
One felt that with him--that he had force--driving
power--but it had all turned sour--bitter
-there was no humanity left .... "
Hercule Poirot said softly, "Grand Dieu, but
what an imbecile I am .... "
Joanna Farley turned towards the door. "Is
there anything more?"
"Two little questions. These tongs here," he
picked up the lazytongs, "were they always on the
table?" -
*;'L "Yes. Father used them for picking up things.
I
168
Agatha Christie
He didn't like stooping."
"One other question. Was your father's eye-sight
good?"
<
br /> She stared at him.
"Oh, no--he couldn't see at all--I mean he
couldn't see without his glasses. His sight had
always been bad from a boy."
"But with his glasses?"
"Oh, he could see all right then, of course."
"He could read newspapers and fine print?"
"Oh, yes."
"That is all, mademoiselle."
She went out of the room
Poirot murmured, "I was stupid. It was there,
all the time, under my nose. And because it was so
near I could not see it."
He leaned out of the window once more. Down
below, in the narrow way between the house and
the factory, he saw a small dark object.
Hercule Poirot nodded, satisfied, and went
downstairs again.
The others were still in the library. Poirot ad-dressed
himself to the secretary:
"I want you, Mr. Cornworthy, to recount to me
in detail the exact circumstances of Mr. Farley's
summons to me. When, for instance, did Mr.
Farley dictate that letter?"
"On Wednesday afternoon--at five-thirty, as
far as I can remember."
"Were there any special directions about post-ing
it?"
"He told me to post it myself."
"And you did so?"
"Yes."
THE DREAM
169
"Did he give any special instructions to the
butler about admitting me?"
"Yes. He told me to tell Holmes (Holmes is the
butler) that a gentleman would be calling at 9:30.
He was to ask the gentleman's name. He was also
to ask to see the letter."
''Rather peculiar precautions to take, don't you
think?"
Cornworthy shrugged his shoulders.
"Mr. Farley," he said carefully, "was rather a
peculiar man."
"Any other instructions?"
"Yes. He told me to take the evening off."
"Did you do so?"
"Yes, immediately after dinner I went to the
cinema. ' '
"When did you return?"
"I let myself in about a quarter past eleven."
"Did you see Mr. Farley again that evening?"
"No."
"And he did not mention the matter the next
morning?"
"No."
Poirot paused a moment, then resumed, "When
I arrived I was not shown into Mr. Farley's own
room."
"No. He told me that I was to tell Holmes to
show you into my room."
"Why was that? Do you know?"
Cornworthy shook his head. "I never ques-tioned
any of Mr. Farley's orders," he said dryly.
"He would have resented it if I had."
"Did he usually receive visitors in his own
room?"
170
Agatha Christie
"Usually, but not always. Sometimes he saw
them in my room."
"Was there any reason for that?"
Hugo Cornworthy considered.
"No--I hardly think so--I've never really
thought about it."
Turning to Mrs. Farley, Poirot asked:
"You permit that I ring for your butler?"
"Certainly, M. Poirot."
Very correct, very urbane, Holmes answered the
bell.
"You rang, madam?"
Mrs. Farley indicated Poirot with a gesture.
Holmes turned politely. "Yes, sir?"
"What were your instructions, Holmes, on the
Thursday night when I came here?"
Holmes cleared his throat, then said:
"After dinner Mr. Cornworthy told me that
Mr. Farley expected a Mr. Hercule Poirot at 9:30.
I was to.ascertain the gentleman's name, and I was
to verify the information by glancing at a letter.
Then I was to show him up to Mr. Cornworthy's
room."
"Were you also told to knock on the door?"
An expression of distaste crossed the butler's
countenance.
"That was one of Mr. Farley's orders. I was
always to knock when introducing visitors--business
visitors, that is," he added.
"Ah, that puzzled me! Were you given any
other instructions concerning me?"
"No, sir. When Mr. Cornworthy had told me
what I have just repeated to you he went out."
"What time was that?"
THE DREAM
171
"Ten minutes to nine, sir."
"Did you see Mr. Farley after that?"
"Yes, sir, I took him up a glass of hot water as
usual at nine o'clock."
"Was he then in his own room or in Mr. Corn-worthy's?"
"He was in his own room, sir."
"You noticed nothing unusual about that
room?"
"Unusual? No, sir."
"Where were Mrs. Farley and Miss Farley?"
"They had gone to the theater, sir."
"Thank you, Holmes, that will do."
Holmes bowed and left the room. Poirot turned
to the millionaire's widow.
"One more question, Mrs. Farley. Had your
husband good sight?"
"No. Not without his glasses."
"He was very shortsighted?"
"Oh, yes, he was quite helpless without his
spectacles."
"He had several pairs of glasses?"
"Yes."
"Ah," said Poirot. He leaned back. "I think
that that concludes the case .... "
There was silence in the room. They were all
looking at the little man who sat there complacently
stroking his mustache. On the inspector's
face was perplexity, Dr. Stillingfleet was frowning,
Cornworthy merely stared uncomprehendingly,
Mrs. Farley gazed in blank astonishment,
Joanna Farley looked eager.
Mrs. Farley broke the silence.
don't understand, M. Poirot." Her voice
174
Agatha Christie
"You do not see?"
Stillingfleet said, "I don't really see how your
laundress comes into it, Poirot."
"My laundress," said Poirot, "was very impor-tant.
That miserable woman who ruins my collars,
was, for the first time in her life, useful to some-body.
Surely you see--it is so obvious. Mr. Farley
glanced at that communication--one glance
would have told him that it was the wrong letter--and
yet he knew nothing. Why? Because he could
not see it properly,t"
Inspector Barnett said sharply, "Didn't he have
his glasses on?"
Hercule Poirot smiled. "Yes," he said. "He
had his glasses on. That is what makes it so very
interesting."
·
Heleaned forward.
"Mr. Farley's dream was very important. He
dreamed, you see, that he committed suicide. And
a little later on, he did commit suicide. That is to
say he was alone in a room and was found there
with a revolver by him, and no one entered or left
the room at the time that he was shot. What does
that mean? It means, does it not, that it must be
suicide!" ,
"Yes," said Stillingfleet.
Hercule Poirot shook his head.
"On the contrary," he said. "It was murder.
An unusual and a very cleverly planned murder."
/> Again he leaned forward, tapping the table, his
eyes green and shining.
"Why did Mr. Farley not allow me to go into
his own room that evening? What was there in
there that I must not be allowed to see? I think,
THE DREAM
175
my friends, that there was--Benedict Farley himself!"
He smiled at the blank faces.
"Yes, yes, it is not nonsense what I say. Why
could the Mr. Farley to whom I had been talking
not realize the difference between two totally dissimilar
letters? Because, roes amis, he was a man
of normal sight wearing a pair of very powerful
glasses. Thoseglasses would render a man of normal
eyesight practically blind. Isn't that so, doctor?''
Stillingfleet murmured, "That's somof course."
"Why did I feel that in talking to Mr. Farley I
was talking to a mountebank, to an actor playing
a part? Because he was playing a part! Consider
the setting. The dim room, the green shaded light