so that you understand.”
Poirot’s idea of telling a story quickly is rather
different from most people’s. Every detail matters to
him equally, whether it’s a fire in which three hundred
people perish or a small dimple on a child’s chin. He
can never be induced to rush to the nub of a matter, so
I settled into my chair and let him tell it in his own
way. By the time he had finished, I felt as if I had
experienced
the
events
first-hand—more
comprehensively, indeed, than I experience many
scenes from my life in which I personally participate.
“What an extraordinary thing to happen,” I said.
“On the same night as the three murders at the
Bloxham, too. Quite a coincidence.”
Poirot sighed. “I do not think it is a coincidence,
my friend. One accepts that the coincidences happen
from time to time, but here there is a clear
connection.”
“You mean murder on the one hand, and the fear of
being murdered on the other?”
“ Non. That is one connection, yes, but I am talking
about
something
different.”
Poirot
stopped
promenading around the drawing room and turned to
face me. “You say that in your three murder victims”
mouths are found three gold cufflinks bearing the
monogram ‘PIJ?’ ”
“That’s right.”
“Mademoiselle Jennie, she said to me quite
clearly: ‘Promise me this: if I’m found dead, you’ll
tell your friend the policeman not to look for my
killer. Oh, please let no one open their mouths! This
crime must never be solved.’ What do you think she
meant by ‘Oh, please let no one open their mouths?’ ”
Was he joking? Apparently not. “Well,” I said,
“it’s clear, isn’t it? She feared she would be
murdered, didn’t want her killer punished and was
hoping no one would say anything to point the finger
at him. She believes she is the one who deserves to
be punished.”
“You choose the meaning that at first seems
obvious,” said Poirot. He sounded disappointed in
me. “Ask yourself if there is another possible meaning
of those words: ‘Oh, please let no one open their
mouths.’ Reflect upon your three gold cufflinks.”
“They are not mine,” I said emphatically, wishing
at that moment that I could push the whole case very
far away from me. “All right, I see what you’re
driving at, but—”
“What do you see? Je conduis ma voiture à
quoi? ”
“Well . . . ‘Please let no one open their mouths’
could, at a stretch, mean ‘Please let no one open the
mouths of the three murder victims at the Bloxham
Hotel.’ ” I felt an utter fool giving voice to this
preposterous theory.
“ Exactement! ‘Please let no one open their mouths
and find the gold cufflinks with the initials PIJ.’ Is it
not possible that this is what Jennie meant? That she
knew about the three murder victims at the hotel, and
that she knew that whoever killed them was also
intent on killing her?”
Without waiting for my answer, Poirot proceeded
with his imaginings. “And the letters PIJ, the person
who has those initials, he is very important to the
story, n’est-ce pas ? Jennie, she knows this. She
knows that if you find these three letters you will be
on your way to finding the murderer, and she wants to
prevent this. Alors, you must catch him before it is too
late for Jennie, or else Hercule Poirot, he shall not
forgive himself!”
I was alarmed to hear this. I felt a pressing sense
of responsibility for catching this killer as it was, and
I did not wish also to be responsible for Poirot’s
never forgiving himself. Did he really look at me and
see a man capable of apprehending a murderer with a
mind of this sort—a mind that would think to place
monogrammed cufflinks in the mouths of the dead? I
have always been a straightforward person and I
work best at straightforward things.
“I think you must go back to the hotel,” said Poirot.
He meant immediately.
I shuddered at the memory of those three