With the murder of Sir Carmichael Clarke the A B C mystery leaped into
the fullest prominence.
The newspapers were full of nothing else.All sorts of "clues"were
reported to have been discovered.Arrests were announced to be imminent.
There were photographs of every person or place remotely connected with
the murder.There were interviews with anyone who would give interviews.There
were questions asked in Parliament.
The Andover murder was now bracketed with the other two.
It was the belief of Scotland Yard that the fullest publicity was the
best chance of laying the murderer by the heels.The population of Great
Britain turned itself into an army of amateur sleuths.
The Daily Flicker had the grand inspiration of using the caption:
HE MAY BE IN YOUR TOWN!
Poirot，of course，was in the thick of things.The letters sent to him
were published and facsimiled.He was abused wholesale for not having
prevented the crimes and defended on the ground that he was on the point of
naming the murderer.
Reporters incessantly badgered him for interviews.
What M.Poirot Says Today.
Which was usually followed by a half-column of imbecilities.
M.Poirot Takes Grave View of Situation.
M.Poirot on the Eve of Success.
Captain Hastings，the great friend of M.Poirot，told our Special
Representative......
"Poirot，"I would cry."Pray believe me.I never said anything of the
kind."
My friend would reply kindly:
"I know，Hastings-I know.The spoken word and the written-there is an
astonishing gulf between them.There is a way of turning sentences that
completely reverses the original meaning."
"I wouldn't like you to think I'd said-""But do not worry yourself.All
this is of no importance.These imbecilities，even，may help."
"How?"
"En bien，"said Poirot grimly."If our madman reads what I am supposed to
have said to the Daily Blague today，he will lose all respect for me as an
opponent!"
I am，perhaps，giving the impression that nothing practical was being
done in the way of investigations.On the contrary，Scotland Yard and the
local police of the various counties were indefatigable in following up the
smallest clues.
Hotels，people who kept lodgings，boarding-houses-all those within a
wide radius of the crimes were questioned minutelly.
Hundreds of stories from imaginative people who had "seen a man looking
very queer and rolling his eyes".or "noticed a man with a sinister face
slinking along"，were sifted to the last detail.No information，even of the
vaguest character，was neglected.Trains，buses，trams，railway porters，
conductors，bookstalls，stationers-there was an indefatigable round of
questions and verifications.
At least a score of people were detained and questioned until they could
satisfy the police as to their movements on the night in question.
The net result was not entirely a blank.Certain statements were borne in
mind and noted down as of possible value，but without further evidence they
led nowhere.
If Crome and his colleagues were indefatigable，Poirot seemed to me
strangely supine.We argued now and again.
"But what is it that you would have me do，my friend?The routine
inquires，the police make them better than I do.
Always-always you want me to run about like the dog."
"Instead of which you sit at home like-like-""A sensible man!My force，
Hastings，is in my brain，not in my feet!All the time，whilst I seem to you
idle，I am reflecting."
"Reflecting?"I cried."Is this a time for reflection?"
"Yes，a thousand times yes."
"But what can you possibly gain by reflection?
You know the facts of the three cases by heart."
"It is not the facts I reflect upon-but the mind of the murderer."
"The mind of a madman!"
"Precisely.And therefore not to be arrived at in a minute.When I know
what the murderer is like，I shall be able to find out who he is.And all the
time I learn more.After the Andover crime，what did we know about the
murderer?Next to nothing at all.After the Bexhill crime?A little more.
After the Churston murder?More still.I begin to see-not what you would
like to see-the outlines of a face and form but the outlines of a mind.A
mind that moves and works in certain definite directions.After the next
crime-""Poirot!"
My friend looked at me dispassionately.
"But，yes，Hastings，I think it is almost certain there will be another.
A lot depends on la chance.So far our inconnu has been lucky.This time
the luck may turn against him.But in any case，after another crime，we shall
know infinitely more.Crime is terribly revealing.Try and vary your methods
as you will，your tastes，your habits，your attitude of mind，and your soul
is revealed by your actions.There are confusing indications-sometimes it is
as though there were two intelligences at work-but soon the outline will
clear itself，I shall know."
"Who it is?"
"No，Hastings，I shall not know his name and address!I shall know what
kind of a man he is......"
"And then?......"
"Et alors，je vais a la peche."
As I looked rather bewildered，he went on:
"You comprehend，Hastings，an expert fisherman knows exactly what flies
to offer to what fish.I shall offer the right kind of fly."
"And then?"
"And then?And then?You are as bad as the superior Crome with his eternal
"Oh，yes?"Eh bien，and then he will take the bait and the hook and we will
reel in the line......"
"In the meantime people are dying right and left."
"Three people.And there are，what is it-about 120-road deaths every
week?"
"That is entirely different."
"It is probably exactly the same to those who die.For the others，the
relations，the friends-yes，there is a difference，but one thing at least
rejoices me in this case."
"By all means let us hear anything in the nature of rejoicing."
"Inutile to be so sarcastic.It rejoices me that there is here no shadow
of guilt to distress the innocent."
"Isn't this worse?"
"No，no，a thousand times no!There is nothing so terrible as to live in
an atmosphere of suspicion-to see eyes watching you and the love in them
changing to fear-nothing so terrible as to suspect those near and dear to
you-It is poisonous-a miasma.No，the poisoning of life for the innocent，
that，at least，we cannot lay at A B C's door."
"You'll soon be making excuses for the man!"I said bitterly.
"Why not?He may believe himself fully justified.We may，perhaps，end by
having sympathy with his point of view."
"Really，Poirot!"
"Alas!I have shocked you.First my inertia-and then my views."
I shook my head without replying.
"All the same，"said Poirot after a minute or two."I have one project
that will please you-since it is active and not passive.Also，it will entail
a lot of conversation and practically no thought."
I did not quite like his tone.
"What is it?"I asked cautiously.
"The extraction from the friends，relations and servants of the victims
of all they know."
"Do you suspect them of keeping things back，then?"
"Not intentionally.But telling everything you know always implies
selection.If I were to say to you，recount me your day yesterday，you would
perhaps reply:"I rose at nine，I breakfasted at half-past，I had eggs and
bacon and coffee，I went to mu club，etc."You would not include:"I tore my
nail and had to cut it.I rang for shaving water.I spilt a little coffee on
the tablecloth.I brushed my hat and put it on."
One cannot tell everything.Therefore one selects.
At the time of a murder people select what they think is important.But
quite frequently they think wrong!"
"And how is one to get at the right things?"
"Simply，as I said just now，by conversation.
By talking!By discussing a certain happening，or a certain person，or a
certain day，over and over again，extra details are bound to arise."
"What kind of details?"
"Naturally that I do not know or I should not want to find out.But
enough time has passed now for ordinary things to reassume their value.It is
against all mathematical laws that in three cases of murder there is no
single fact nor sentence with a bearing on the case.
Some travial happening，some trivial remark there must be which would be
a pointer!It is looking for the needle in the haystack，I grant-but in the
haystack there is a needle-of that I am convinced!"
It seemed to me extremely vague and hazy.
"You do not see it?Your wits are not so sharp as those of a mere servant
girl."
He tossed me over a letter.It was neatly written in a sloping
board-school hand.
"Dear Sir，-I hope you will forgive the liberty I take in writing to you.
I have been thinking a lot since these awful two murders like poor
auntie's.It seems as though we're all in the same boat，as it were.I saw the
young lady's picture in the paper，the young lady，I mean，that is the
sister of the young lady that was killed at Bexhill.
I made so bold as to write to her and tell her I was coming to London to
get a place and asked if I could come to her or her mother as I said two
heads might be better than one and I would not want much wages，but only to
find out who this awful fiend is and perhaps we might get at it better if we
could say what we knew something might come of it.
"The young lady wrote very nicely and said as how she worked in an
office and lived in a hostel，but she suggested I might write to you and she
said she'd been thinking something of the same kind as I had.And she said we
were in the same trouble and we ought to stand together.So I am writing，sir，
to say I am coming to London and this is my address.
"Hoping I am not troubling you，Yours respectfully，Mary Drower "Mary
Drower，"said Poirot."is a very intelligent girl."
He picked up another letter.
"Read this."
It was a line from Franklin Clarke，saying that he was coming to London
and would call upon Poirot the following day if not inconvenient.
"Do not despair，mon ami，"said Poirot.
"Action is about to begin."
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