Churston，lying as it does between Brixham on the one side and Paignton
and Torquay on the other，occupies a position about half-way round the curve
of Torbay.Until about ten years ago it was merely a golf links and below the
links a green sweep of countryside dropping down to the sea with only a
farmhouse or two in the way of human occupation.But of late years there had
been big building developments between Churston and Paignton and the
coastline is new dotted with small houses and bungalows，new roads，etc.
Sir Carmichael Clarke had purchased a site of some two acres commanding
an uninterrupted view of the sea.The house he had built was of modern
design-a white rectangle that was not unpleasing to the eye.Apart from two
big galleries that housed his collection it was not a large house.
Our arrival there took place about 8am.A local police officer had met us
at the station and had put us au courant of the situation.
Sir Carmichael Clarke，it seemed，had been in the habit of taking a
stroll after dinner every evening.When the police rang up-at some time after
eleven-it was ascertained that he had not returned.Since his stroll usually
followed the same course，it was not long before a search-party discovered
his body.Death was due to a crashing blow with some heavy instrument on the
back of the head.An open A B C had been placed face downwards on the dead
body.
We arrived at Combeside (as the house was called)at about eight o'clock.
The door was opened by an elderly butler whose shaking hands and
disturbed face showed how much the tragedy had affected him.
"Good morning，Deveril，"said the police officer.
"Good morning，Mr Wells."
"These are the gentlemen from London，Deveril."
"This way，gentlemen."He ushered us into a long dinning-room where
breakfast was laid."I'll get Mr Franklin."
A minute or two later a big fair-haired man with a sunburnt face entered
the room.
This was Franklin Clarke，the dead man's only brother.
He had the resolute competent manner of a man accustomed to meeting with
emergencies.
"Good morning，gentlemen."
Inspector Wells made the introductions.
"This is Inspector Crome of the CID，Mr Hercule Poirot and-er-Captain
Hayter."
"Hastings，"I corrected coldly.
Franklin Clarke shook hands with each of us in turn and in each case the
handshake was accompanied by a piercing look.
"Let me offer you some breakfast，"he said."We can discuss the position
as we eat."
There were no dissentient voices and we were soon doing justice to
excellent eggs and bacon and coffee.
"Now for it，"said Franklin Clarke."Inspector Wells gave me a rough idea
of the position last night-though I may say it seemed one of the wildest
tales I have ever heard.Am I really to believe，Inspector Crome，that my
poor brother is the victim of a homicidal maniac，that this is the third
murder that has occurred and that in each case an A B C railway guide has
been deposited beside the body?"
"That is substantially the position，Mr Clarke."
"But why?What earthly benefit can accrue from such a crime-even in the
most diseased imagination?"
Poirot nodded his head in approval.
"You go straight to the point，Mr Franklin，"he said.
"It's not much good looking for motives at this stage，Mr Clarke，"said
Inspector Crome."That's a matter for an alienist-though I may say that I've
had a certain experience of criminal lunacy and that the motives are usually
grossly inadequate.There is a desire to assert one's personality，to make a
splash in the public eye-in fact，to be a somebody instead of a nonentity."
"Is that true，M.Poirot?"
Clarke seemed incredulous.His appeal to the older man was not too well
received by Inspector Crome，who frowned.
"Absolutely true，"replied my friend.
"At any rate such a man cannot escape detection long，"said Clarke
thoughtfully.
"Vous croyez?Ah，but they are cunning-ces gens la!And you must remember
such a type has usually all the outer signs of insignificance-he belongs to
the class of person who is usually passed over and ignored or even laughed
at!"
"Will you let me have a few facts，please，Mr Clarke，"said Crome，
breaking in on the conversation.
"Certainly."
"Your brother，I take it，was in his usual health and spirits
yesterday?He received no unexpected letters?Nothing to upset him?"
"No.I should say he was quite his usual self."
"Not upset and worried in any way."
"Excuse me，inspector.I didn't say that.To be upset and worried was my
poor brother's normal condition."
"Why was that?"
"You may not know that my sister-in-law，Lady Clarke，is in very bad
health.Frankly，between ourselves，she is suffering from an incurable cancer，
and cannot live very much longer.Her illness had preyed terribly on my
brother's mind.I myself returned from the East not long ago and I was
shocked at the change in him."
Poirot interpolated a question.
"Supposing，Mr Clarke，that your brother had been found shot at the foot
of a cliff-or shot with a revolver beside him.What would have been your
first thought?"
"Quite frankly，I should have jumped to the conclusion that it was
suicide，"said Clarke.
"Encore!"said Poirot.
"What is that?"
"A fact that repeats itself.It is of no matter."
"Anyway，it wasn't suicide，"said Crome with a touch of curtness."Now I
believe，Mr Clarke，that it was your brother's habit to go for a stroll
every evening?"
"Quite right.He always did."
"Every night?"
"Well，not if it was pouring with rain，naturally."
"And everyone in the house knew of this habit?"
"Of course."
"And outside?"
"I don't quite know what you mean by outside.The gardener may have been
aware of it or not，I don't know.
"And in the village?"
"Strictly speaking，we haven't got a village.There's a post office and
cottages at Churston Ferrers-but there's no village or shops."
"I suppose a stranger hanging round the place would be fairly easily
noticed?"
"On the contrary.In August all this part of the world is a seething mass
of strangers.They come over every day from Brixham and Torquay and Paignton
in cars and buses and on foot.Btoadsands，which is down there (he pointed)，
is a very popular beach and so is Elbury Cove-it's a well-known beauty spot
and people come there and picnic.I wish they didn't!You've no idea how
beautiful and peaceful this part of the world is in June and the beginning
of July."
"So you don't think a stranger would be noticed?"
"Not unless he looked-well，off his head."
"This man doesn't look off his head，"said Crome with certainty."You see
what I'm getting at，Mr Clarke.This man must have been spying out the land
beforehand and discovered your brother's habit of taking an evening stroll.I
suppose，by the way，that no strange man came up to the house and asked to
see Sir Carmichael yesterday?"
"Not that I know of-but we'll ask Deveril."
He rang the bell and put the question to the butler.
"No，sir，no one came to see Sir Carmichael.And I didn't notice anyone
hanging about the house either.No more did the maids，because I've asked
them."
The butler waited a moment，then inquired:"Is that all，sir?"
"Yes，Deveril，you can go."
The butler withdrew，drawing back in the doorway to let a young woman
pass.
Franklin Clarke rose as she came in.
"This is Miss Grey，gentlemen.My brother's secretary."
My attention was caught at once by the girl's extraordinary Scandinavian
fairness.She had the almost colourless ash hair-light-grey eyes-and
transparent glowing pallor that one finds amongst Norwegians and Swedes.She
looked about twenty-seven and seemed to be as efficient as she was decorative.
"Can I help you in any way?"she asked as she sat down.
Clarke brought her a cup of coffee，but she refused any food.
"Did you deal with Sir Carmichael's correspondence?"asked Crome.
"Yes，all of it."
"I suppose he never received a letter or letters signed A B C?"
"A B C?"She shook her head."No，I'm sure he didn't."
"He didn't mention having seen anyone hanging about during his evening
walks lately?"
"No.He never mentioned anything of the kind."
"And you yourself have noticed no strangers?"
"Not exactly hanging about.Of course，there are a lot of people what you
might call wandering about at this time of year.One often meets people
strolling with an aimless look across the golf links or down the lanes ot
the sea.In the same way，practically everyone one sees this time of year is
a stranger."
Poirot nodded thoughtfully.
Inspector Crome asked to be taken over the ground of Sir Carmichael's
nightly walk.Franklin Clarke led the way through the french window，and Miss
Grey accompanied us.
She and I were a little behind the others.
"All this must have been a terrible shock to you all，"I said.
"It seems quite unbelievable.I had gone to bed last night when the
police rang up.I heard voices downstairs and at last I came out and asked
what was the matter.Deveril and Mr Clarke were just setting out with
lanterns."
"What time did Sir Carmichael usually come back from his walk?"
"About a quarter to ten.He used to let himself in by the side door and
them sometimes he went straight to bed，sometimes to the gallery where his
collections were.That is why，unless the police had rung up，he would
probably not have been missed till they went to call him this morning."
"It must have been a terrible shock to his wife?"
"Lady Clarke is kept under morphia a good deal.I think she is in too
dazed a condition to appreciate what goes on round her."
We had come out through a garden gate on to the golf links.Crossing a
corner of them，we passed over a stile into a steep，winding lane.
"This leads down to Elbury Cove，"explained Franklin Clarke."But two
years ago they made a new road leading from the main road to Broadsands and
on to Elbury，so that now this lane is practically deserted."
We went on down the lane.At the foot of it a path led between brambles
and bracken down to the sea.Suddenly we came out on a grassy ridge
overlooking the sea and a beach of glistening white stones.All round dark
green trees ran down to the sea.It was an enchanting spot-white，deep
green-and sapphire blue.
"How beautiful!"I exclaimed.
Clarke turned to me eagerly.
"Isn't it?Why people want to go abroad to the Riviera when they've got
this!I've wandered all over the world in my time and，honest to God，I've
never seen anything as beautiful."
Then，as though ashamed of his eagerness，he said in a more
matter-of-fact tone:
"This was my brother's evening walk.He came as far as here，then back up
the path，and turning to the right instead of the left，went past the farm
and across the fields back to the house."
We proceeded on our way till we came to a spot near the hedge，half-way
across the field where the body had been found.
Crome nodded.
"Easy enough.The man stood here in the shadow.Your brother would have
noticed nothing till the blow fell."
The girl at my side gave a quick shiver.
Franklin Clarke said:
"Hold up，Thora.It's pretty beastly，but it's no use shirking facts."
Thora Grey-the name suited her.
We went back to the house where the body had been taken after being
photographed.
As we mounted the wide staircase the doctor came out of a room，black
bag in hand.
"Anything to tell us，doctor?"inquired Clarke.
The doctor shook his head.
"Perfectly simple case.I'll keep the technicalities for the inquest.
Anyway，he didn't suffer.Death must have been instantaneous."
He moved away.
"I'll just go in and see Lady Clarke."
A hospital nurse came out of a room farther along the corridor and the
doctor joined her.
We went into the room out of which the doctor had come.
I came out again rather quickly.Thora Grey was still standing at the
head of the stairs.
There was a queer scared expression on her face.
"Miss Grey-"I stopped."Is anything the matter?"
She looked at me.
"I was thinking，"she said，"about D."
"About D?"I stared at her stupidly.
"Yes.The next murder.Something must be done.It's got to be stopped."
Clarke came out of the room behind me.
He said:
"What's got to be stopped，Thora?"
"These awful murders."
"Yes."His jaw thrust itself out aggressively."I want to talk to M.
Poirot some time......Is Crome any good?"He shot the words out
unexpectedly.
I replied that he was supposed to be a very clever officer.
My voice was perhaps not as enthusiastic as it might have been.
"HE's got a damned offensive manner，"said Clarke."Looks as though he
knows everything-and what does he know?Nothing at all as far as I can make
out."
He was silent for a minute or two.Then he said:
"M.Poirot's the man for my money.I've got a plan.But we'll talk of that
later."
He went along the passage and tapped at the same door as the doctor had
entered.
I hesitated a moment.The girl was staring in front of her.
"What are you thinking of，Miss Grey?"
She turned her eyes towards me.
"I'm wondering where he is now......the murderer，I mean.It's not twelve
hours yet since it happened......Oh!aren't there any real clairvoyants who
could see where he is now and what he is doing......"
"The police are searching-"I began.
My commonplace words broke the spell.Thora Grey pulled herself together.
"Yes，"she said."Of course."
In her turn she descended the staircase.I stood there a moment longer
conning her words over in my mind.
A B C......
Where was he now......?
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