‘In the end I gave it up—came back.’

‘At what time?’

‘I don’t know. I walked. It must have been midnight or after when I got home.’

‘Then—’

The kitchen door opened.

‘Oh, there you are,’ said Inspector Kelsey.

Inspector Crome pushed past him, shot a glance at Poirot and a glance at the two strangers.

‘Miss Megan Barnard and Mr Donald Fraser,’ said Poirot, introducing them.

‘This is Inspector Crome from London,’ he explained.

Turning to the inspector, he said:

‘While you pursued your investigations upstairs I have been conversing with Miss Barnardand Mr Fraser, endeavouring if I could to find something that will throw light upon the matter.’

‘Oh, yes?’ said Inspector Crome, his thoughts not upon Poirot but upon the two newcomers.

Poirot retreated to the hall. Inspector Kelsey said kindly as he passed:

‘Get anything?’

But his attention was distracted by his colleague and he did not wait for a reply.

I joined Poirot in the hall.

‘Did anything strike you, Poirot?’ I inquired.

‘Only the amazing magnanimity of the murderer, Hastings.’

I had not the courage to say that I had not the least idea what he meant.

Chapter 13

A Conference

Conferences!

Much of my memories of the A B C case seem to be of conferences.

Conferences at Scotland Yard. At Poirot’s rooms. Official conferences. Unofficial conferences.

This particular conference was to decide whether or not the facts relative to the anonymous letters should or should not be made public in the press.

The Bexhill murder had attracted much more attention than the Andover one.

It had, of course, far more elements of popularity. To begin with the victim was a young and good-looking girl. Also, it had taken place at a popular seaside resort.

All the details of the crime were reported fully and rehashed daily in thin disguises. The A B C railway guide came in for its share of attention. The favourite theory was that it had been bought locally by the murderer and that it was a valuable clue to his identity. It also seemed to show that he had come to the place by train and was intending to leave for London.

The railway guide had not figured at all in the meagre accounts of the Andover murder, so there seemed at present little likelihood of the two crimes being connected in the public eye.

‘We’ve got to decide upon a policy,’ said the Assistant Commissioner. ‘The thing is—which way will give us the best results? Shall we give the public the facts—enlist their co-operation—after all, it’ll be the co-operation of several million people, looking out for a madman—’

‘He won’t look like a madman,’ interjected Dr Thompson.

‘—looking out for sales of A B C’s—and so on. Against that I suppose there’s the advantage of working in the dark—not letting our man know what we’re up to, but then there’s the fact that he knows very well that we know. He’s drawn attention to himself deliberately by his letters. Eh, Crome, what’s your opinion?’