The Big Four Read Online Free PDF Page B

everything! How do they say - Inquire Within Upon Everything. That is my friend Hastings.”
    He flung down the leg of mutton onto its dish again and left the larder. Then he looked through the window.
    “Here comes our friend the Inspector. It is well. I have seen all I want to see here.” He drummed on the table absent-mindedly, as though absorbed in calculation, and then asked suddenly, “What is the day of the week, mon ami?”
    “Monday,” I said, rather astonished. “What -?”
    “Ah! Monday, is it? A bad day of the week. To commit a murder on a Monday is a mistake.”
    Passing back to the living-room, he tapped the glass on the wall and glanced at the thermometer.
    “Set fair, and seventy degrees Fahrenheit. An orthodox English summer's day.”
    Ingles was still examining various pieces of Chinese pottery.
    “You do not take much interest in this inquiry, monsieur?” said Poirot.
    The other gave a slow smile.
    “It's not my job, you see. I'm a connoisseur of some things, but not of this. So I just stand back and keep out of the way. I've learnt patience in the East.”
    The Inspector came bustling in, apologising for having been so long away. He insisted on taking us over most of the ground again, but finally we got away.
    “I must appreciate your thousand politenesses. Inspector,” said Poirot, as we were walking down the village street again. “There is just one more request I should like to put to you.”
    “You want to see the body, perhaps, sir?”
    “Oh, dear me, no! I have not the least interest in the body. I want to see Robert Grant.”
    “You'll have to drive back with me to Moreton to see him, sir.”
    “Very well, I will do so. But I must see him and be able to speak to him alone.”
    The Inspector caressed his upper lip.
    “Well, I don't know about that, sir.”
    “I assure you that if you can get through to Scotland Yard you will receive full authority.”
    “I've heard of you, of course, sir, and I know you've done us a good turn now and again. But it's very irregular.”
    “Nevertheless, it is necessary,” said Poirot calmly. “It is necessary for this reason - Grant is not the murderer.”
    “What? Who is, then?”
    “The murderer was, I should fancy, a youngish man. He drove up to Granite Bungalow in a trap, which he left outside. He went in, committed the murder, came out, and drove away again. He was bare-headed, and his clothing was slightly bloodstained.”
    “But - but the whole village would have seen him!”
    “Not under certain circumstances.”
    “Not if it was dark, perhaps; but the crime was committed in broad daylight.”
    Poirot merely smiled.
    “And the horse and trap, sir - how could you tell that? Any amount of wheeled vehicles have passed along outside. There's no mark of one in particular to be seen.”
    “Not with the eyes of the body, perhaps; but with the eyes of the mind, yes.”
    The Inspector touched his forehead significantly with a grin at me. I was utterly bewildered, but I had faith in Poirot. Further discussion ended in our all driving back to Moreton with the Inspector. Poirot and I were taken to Grant, but a constable was to be present during the interview. Poirot went straight to the point.
    “Grant, I know you to be innocent of this crime. Relate to me in your own words exactly what happened.”
    The prisoner was a man of medium height, with a somewhat unpleasing cast of features. He looked a jailbird if ever a man did.
    “Honest to God, I never did it,” he whined. “Some one put those little glass figures amongst my traps. It was a frame-up, that's what it was. I went straight to my rooms when I came in, like I said. I never knew a thing till Betsy screeched out. S'help me, God, I didn't.”
    Poirot rose.
    “If you can't tell me the truth, that is the end of it.”
    “But, guv'nor -”
    “You did go into the room - you did know your master was dead; and you were just preparing to make a bolt of it when the good Betsy made her