‘Well,’ I said. ‘I can’t see any excitement in that!’

Poirot threw me a glance of reproof.

‘No, because there are no curiously twisted daggers, no blackmail, no emerald that is the stolen eye of a god, no untraceable Eastern poisons. You have the melodramatic soul, Hastings. You would like, not one murder, but a series of murders.’

‘I admit,’ I said, ‘that a second murder in a book often cheers things up. If the murder happens in the first chapter, and you have to follow up everybody’s alibi until the last page but one—well, it does get a bit tedious.’

The telephone rang and Poirot rose to answer.

‘’Allo,’ he said. ‘’Allo. Yes, it is Hercule Poirot speaking.’

He listened for a minute or two and then I saw his face change.

His own side of the conversation was short and disjointed.

‘Mais oui…’

‘Yes, of course…’

‘But yes, we will come…’

‘Naturally…’

‘It may be as you say…’

‘Yes, I will bring it. A tout à l’heure then.’

He replaced the receiver and came across the room to me.

‘That was Japp speaking, Hastings.’

‘Yes?’

‘He had just got back to the Yard. There was a message from Andover…’

‘Andover?’ I cried excitedly.

Poirot said slowly:

‘An old woman of the name of Ascher who keeps a little tobacco and newspaper shop has been found murdered.’

I think I felt ever so slightly damped. My interest, quickened by the sound of Andover, suffered a faint check. I had expected something fantastic—out of the way! The murder of an old woman who kept a little tobacco shop seemed, somehow, sordid and uninteresting.

Poirot continued in the same slow, grave voice:

‘The Andover police believe they can put their hand on the man who did it—’

I felt a second throb of disappointment.

‘It seems the woman was on bad terms with her husband. He drinks and is by way of being rather a nasty customer. He’s threatened to take her life more than once.

‘Nevertheless,’ continued Poirot, ‘in view of what has happened, the police there would like to have another look at the anonymous letter I received. I have said that you and I will go down to Andover at once.’

My spirits revived a little. After all, sordid as this crime seemed to be, it was a crime, and it was a long time since I had had any association with crime and criminals.

I hardly listened to the next words Poirot said. But they were to come back to me with significance later.

‘This is the beginning,’ said Hercule Poirot.

Chapter 4

Mrs Ascher

We were received at Andover by Inspector Glen, a tall fair-haired man with a pleasant smile.

For the sake of conciseness I think I had better give a brief résuméof the bare facts of the case.

The crime was discovered by Police Constable Dover at 1 am on the morning of the 22nd. When on his round he tried the door of the shop and found it unfastened, he entered and at first thought the place was empty. Directing his torch over the counter, however, he caught sight of the huddled-up body of the old woman. When the police surgeon arrived on the spot it was elicited that the woman had been struck down by a heavy blow on the back of the head, probably while she was reaching down a packet of cigarettes from the shelf behind the counter. Death must have occurred about nine to seven hours previously.