‘But, my dear fellow, the man’s crazy,’ said the Assistant Commissioner impatiently.

‘I understand what M. Poirot means,’ said Crome, coming graciously to the rescue. ‘He’s quite right. There’s got to be some definite obsession. I think we’ll find the root of the matter in an intensified inferiority complex. There may be a persecution mania, too, and if so he may possibly associate M. Poirot with it. He may have the delusion that M. Poirot is a detective employed on purpose to hunt him down.’

‘H’m,’ said the AC. ‘That’s the jargon that’s talked nowadays. In my day if a man was mad he was mad and we didn’t look about for scientific terms to soften it down. I suppose a thoroughly up-to-date doctor would suggest putting a man like A B C in a nursing home, telling him what a fine fellow he was for forty-five days on end and then letting him out as a responsible member of society.’

Poirot smiled but did not answer.

The conference broke up.

‘Well,’ said the Assistant Commissioner. ‘As you say, Crome, pulling him in is only a matter of time.’

‘We’d have had him before now,’ said the inspector, ‘if he wasn’t so ordinary-looking. We’ve worried enough perfectly inoffensive citizens as it is.’

‘I wonder where he is at this minute,’ said the Assistant Commissioner.

Chapter 30

Not from Captain Hastings’ Personal Narrative

Mr Cust stood by a greengrocer’s shop.

He stared across the road.

Yes, that was it.

Mrs Ascher. Newsagent and Tobacconist…

In the empty window was a sign.

To Let.

Empty…

Lifeless…

‘Excuse me, sir.’

The greengrocer’s wife, trying to get at some lemons.

He apologized, moved to one side.

Slowly he shuffled away—back towards the main street of the town…

It was difficult—very difficult—now that he hadn’t any money left…

Not having had anything to eat all day made one feel very queer and light-headed…

He looked at a poster outside a newsagent’s shop.

The A B C Case. Murderer Still at Large. Interviews with M. Hercule Poirot.

Mr Cust said to himself:

‘Hercule Poirot. I wonder if he knows…’

He walked on again.

It wouldn’t do to stand staring at that poster…

He thought:

‘I can’t go on much longer…’

Foot in front of foot…what an odd thing walking was…

Foot in front of foot—ridiculous.

Highly ridiculous…

But man was a ridiculous animal anyway…

And he, Alexander Bonaparte Cust, was particularly ridiculous.

He had always been…

People had always laughed at him…

He couldn’t blame them…

Where was he going? He didn’t know. He’d come to the end. He no longer looked anywhere but at his feet.

Foot in front of foot.

He looked up. Lights in front of him. And letters…

Police Station.

‘That’s funny,’ said Mr Cust. He gave a little giggle.

Then he stepped inside. Suddenly, as he did so, he swayed and fell forward.

Chapter 31

Hercule Poirot Asks Questions

It was a clear November day. Dr Thompson and Chief Inspector Japp had come round to acquaint Poirot with the result of the police court proceedings in the case of Rex v. Alexander Bonaparte Cust.