say
is, in Belgium it is evidently not considered unseemly
to gloat. He was quite puffed up with pride. “Do you
see what this means, mon ami ? The open window
was not opened by Richard Negus, it was opened
after his death! Having locked the door of Room 238
from the inside , the murderer needed to escape. He
did so using the tree outside Mr. Negus’s window,
after he had hidden the key behind a tile in the
fireplace that had come loose. He perhaps loosened it
himself.”
“Why not conceal it in his clothing, take it with
him and leave the room in the customary way?” I
asked.
“That is a question I have been asking myself—one
that, for now, I am unable to answer,” Poirot said. “I
have satisfied myself that there is no hidden key in
this room, 121. Nor is there a key anywhere in Room
317. The killer must have taken two keys with him
when he left the Bloxham Hotel, so why not the third?
Why is the treatment of Richard Negus different?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” I said. “Listen, I’ve
been talking to John Goode, the clerk—”
“The most dependable clerk,” Poirot amended
with a twinkle in his eye.
“Yes, well . . . dependable or not, he’s certainly
come up trumps for us on the information front. You
were right: the three victims are connected. I’ve seen
their addresses. Harriet Sippel and Ida Gransbury
both lived in a place called Great Holling, in the
Culver Valley.”
“ Bon. And Richard Negus?”
“No, he lives in Devon—place called Beaworthy.
But he’s connected too. He booked all three hotel
rooms—Ida’s, Harriet’s and his own—and he paid
for them ahead of time.”
“Did he indeed? This I find very interesting . . .”
Poirot murmured, stroking his mustache.
“Bit puzzling, if you ask me,” I said. “The main
puzzle being: why, if they were coming from the same
village on the same day, did Harriet Sippel and Ida
Gransbury not travel together? Why did they not
arrive together? I went over it several times with John
Goode and he is adamant: Harriet arrived two hours
before Ida on Wednesday—two full hours.”
“And Richard Negus?”
I resolved henceforth to include all details relating
to Negus at the earliest opportunity, if only so that I
wouldn’t have to hear Poirot say, “And Richard
Negus?” over and over again.
“He turned up an hour before Harriet Sippel. He
was the first of the three to arrive, but it wasn’t John
Goode who dealt with him. It was a junior clerk, a
Mr. Thomas Brignell. I also found out that all three of
our murder victims traveled to London by train, not
car. I’m not sure if you wanted to know that, but—”
“I must know everything,” said Poirot.
His obvious desire to be in charge and make the
investigation his own both irritated and reassured me.
“The Bloxham has some cars that it sends out to fetch
guests from the station,” I told him. “It’s not cheap,
but they’re happy to sort it out for you. Three weeks
ago, Richard Negus made arrangements with John
Goode for the hotel’s cars to meet him, Harriet Sippel
and Ida Gransbury. Separately; a car each. All of it—
the rooms, the cars—it was all paid for in advance,
by Negus.”
“I wonder if he was a wealthy man,” Poirot mused
aloud. “So often, murder turns out to be about money.
What are your thoughts, Catchpool, now that we know
a little more?”
“Well . . .” I decided to throw myself into it, since
he’d asked. Imagining what was possible was a good
thing in Poirot’s book, so I would allow myself to
concoct a theory, using the facts as a starting point.
“Richard Negus must have known about all three
arrivals, since he reserved and paid for the rooms, but
perhaps Harriet Sippel didn’t know that Ida
Gransbury was also coming to the Bloxham. And
perhaps Ida didn’t know that Harriet was.”
“ Oui, c’est possible. ”
Encouraged, I went on: “Maybe it was essential to
the
is, in Belgium it is evidently not considered unseemly
to gloat. He was quite puffed up with pride. “Do you
see what this means, mon ami ? The open window
was not opened by Richard Negus, it was opened
after his death! Having locked the door of Room 238
from the inside , the murderer needed to escape. He
did so using the tree outside Mr. Negus’s window,
after he had hidden the key behind a tile in the
fireplace that had come loose. He perhaps loosened it
himself.”
“Why not conceal it in his clothing, take it with
him and leave the room in the customary way?” I
asked.
“That is a question I have been asking myself—one
that, for now, I am unable to answer,” Poirot said. “I
have satisfied myself that there is no hidden key in
this room, 121. Nor is there a key anywhere in Room
317. The killer must have taken two keys with him
when he left the Bloxham Hotel, so why not the third?
Why is the treatment of Richard Negus different?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” I said. “Listen, I’ve
been talking to John Goode, the clerk—”
“The most dependable clerk,” Poirot amended
with a twinkle in his eye.
“Yes, well . . . dependable or not, he’s certainly
come up trumps for us on the information front. You
were right: the three victims are connected. I’ve seen
their addresses. Harriet Sippel and Ida Gransbury
both lived in a place called Great Holling, in the
Culver Valley.”
“ Bon. And Richard Negus?”
“No, he lives in Devon—place called Beaworthy.
But he’s connected too. He booked all three hotel
rooms—Ida’s, Harriet’s and his own—and he paid
for them ahead of time.”
“Did he indeed? This I find very interesting . . .”
Poirot murmured, stroking his mustache.
“Bit puzzling, if you ask me,” I said. “The main
puzzle being: why, if they were coming from the same
village on the same day, did Harriet Sippel and Ida
Gransbury not travel together? Why did they not
arrive together? I went over it several times with John
Goode and he is adamant: Harriet arrived two hours
before Ida on Wednesday—two full hours.”
“And Richard Negus?”
I resolved henceforth to include all details relating
to Negus at the earliest opportunity, if only so that I
wouldn’t have to hear Poirot say, “And Richard
Negus?” over and over again.
“He turned up an hour before Harriet Sippel. He
was the first of the three to arrive, but it wasn’t John
Goode who dealt with him. It was a junior clerk, a
Mr. Thomas Brignell. I also found out that all three of
our murder victims traveled to London by train, not
car. I’m not sure if you wanted to know that, but—”
“I must know everything,” said Poirot.
His obvious desire to be in charge and make the
investigation his own both irritated and reassured me.
“The Bloxham has some cars that it sends out to fetch
guests from the station,” I told him. “It’s not cheap,
but they’re happy to sort it out for you. Three weeks
ago, Richard Negus made arrangements with John
Goode for the hotel’s cars to meet him, Harriet Sippel
and Ida Gransbury. Separately; a car each. All of it—
the rooms, the cars—it was all paid for in advance,
by Negus.”
“I wonder if he was a wealthy man,” Poirot mused
aloud. “So often, murder turns out to be about money.
What are your thoughts, Catchpool, now that we know
a little more?”
“Well . . .” I decided to throw myself into it, since
he’d asked. Imagining what was possible was a good
thing in Poirot’s book, so I would allow myself to
concoct a theory, using the facts as a starting point.
“Richard Negus must have known about all three
arrivals, since he reserved and paid for the rooms, but
perhaps Harriet Sippel didn’t know that Ida
Gransbury was also coming to the Bloxham. And
perhaps Ida didn’t know that Harriet was.”
“ Oui, c’est possible. ”
Encouraged, I went on: “Maybe it was essential to
the
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