Chapter 15 Chapter fifteen

My recollection is a little hazy of what happened in the days after Mrs Franklin's coroner's inquest.There must have been a funeral, of course, and it attracted many curious people from St. Mary's Steele.At the funeral, an old woman with sticky eye circles and a fierce face stopped me. We were filing out of the cemetery when she came up to me and started a conversation. I remember you, sir, and am I right? Uh, uh, maybe. She didn't care what I said at all, and went on: More than twenty years.The old lady died at the manor.That was the first murder in our village of Steele.Let me just say, it won't be the last one.It was said that Mrs. Ingleshap had been murdered by her husband.Each of us pats our chests and promises.She gave me a sly look.This time, maybe it was the husband's hands again.

what do you mean?I said sharply.Didn't you hear the court's ruling? That's what the coroner said.But he can be wrong too, don't you think?She elbowed me.Those who are doctors know how to get rid of their wives.She doesn't seem to be of much help to him, does she? I turned to her in exasperation, and she flinched away, muttering that she hadn't meant any harm, but it was a little strange that it should happen a second time. Besides, it's strange that you were there both times, don't you think, sir?she said again. I was in a trance for a while, wondering if she suspected that I was responsible for these two murders.It was disturbing, and it was only then that I really learned how weird and haunting the natives' suspicions can be.

Having said that, this is not outrageous.Because Mrs. Franklin was indeed murdered. As I said, my memory of those days is hazy.One thing concerned me most, and that was Poirot's health.Curtis came to me, his expressionless face showing a trace of panic, and he told me that Poirot had just suffered a serious heart attack. In my opinion, sir, he should see a doctor. I hastened to Poirot's room, but he strongly objected to seeing a doctor.At the time, I thought, this is not like him.In my eyes, he has always made a fuss about his health.He hates the wind, he wears silk scarves and woolen scarves, he always wraps his neck tightly, and he makes a fuss when his feet get wet.He also took his temperature frequently, and at the slightest sign of catching a cold, he shrank into the bed, saying that otherwise I would get pneumonia!As far as I know, the slightest ailment of his always calls for a doctor immediately.

But now that he was really seriously ill, he was uncharacteristically. Perhaps, though, that's the real reason.Those minor illnesses were insignificant, but now when he really became a sick person, he became frightened and refused to admit the fact that he was sick.He is indifferent to it because he is afraid.His response to my refutation was both agitated and cutting. Ah, but I've seen doctors, and not just one, but many!I've called Blank and Dash (he names two medical experts), and what's their prescription?They sent me to Egypt, where I became even more ill.I also looked for

R. I know R, he is an authority on cardiology.I immediately asked: How did he say? Poirot cast a sidelong glance at me, and my heart gave a sudden, painful throb. He said calmly: He has done his best for me and has done everything he can.I've had several treatments, a lot of medicine, everything I need, but nothing else has improved.So, Hastings, you know, no amount of doctor visits will help.My friend, this machine is old.It's a pity that people are not like cars, which can run as usual with a new engine. But, Poirot, listen to me, your case must be very serious.Curtis Poirot immediately asked:

Curtis? Yes, he came to me.he is worried about your heart attack Poirot nodded slightly. That's right, that's right.Sometimes when the disease flares up, it is painful for others to watch.I don't think Curtis is used to seeing heart attacks. You really don't want to see a doctor? Seeing a doctor is of no use, my friend. His tone was gentle, but firm.I felt another painful constriction in my heart.Poirot smiled at me.He said: Hastings, this is my last case.It's going to be the funniest case I've ever had, and the funniest murder.In X, we see a superb, extraordinary skill, which is deeply admirable.So far, my dear friend, X's technique has been excellent, and even I, HerculePoirot was also defeated!He's already on the offensive, but I haven't been able to crack it yet.

If you are in good health I want to comfort him. But this is obviously not appropriate, because Hercule.Poirot was immediately furious.ah!Do I have to tell you thirty-six times, and thirty-six more times, that you don't need physical strength to solve a case?The only thing you need is brains. Oh, of course, yes, your brain is still working. work?My brain is very bright.My limbs may be paralyzed, my heart may be messing with me, but my brain, Hastings, my brain is intact.My head is still a top-notch head. Your head, I followed his words.Excellent. But as I walked slowly down the stairs, I thought that Poirot's head was not as quick as it used to be.First Mrs. Letoer's narrow escape, then Mrs. Franklin's death.And what did we do in these two cases?In fact, it does nothing.

The next day Poirot said to me: Hastings, you suggested I go to the doctor yesterday. Yes, I said earnestly.I'd be very happy if you would go. Well, I agree.I'm going to find Franklin. Franklin?I looked at him suspiciously. He's a doctor, isn't he? That's right, but his main business is research, isn't it? no doubt.As far as I can see, if he was asked to become a general practitioner, he would not be successful.He lacks what you would call a family-friendly attitude.But he has qualifications.In fact, I should say this, like a line often heard in movies: he knows his profession better than most people.

But these words did not completely convince me.While I had no doubts about Franklin's abilities, he always struck me as impatient and uninterested in other people's ailments.His attitude toward research may be admirable, but when it comes to healing people, he is not very competent. Having said that, Poirot agreed to see him as a concession, and since Poirot did not have his own doctor in the local area, Franklin readily agreed to see him.However, he added a proviso that if regular treatment is required, a local licensed doctor must be consulted, because he cannot solve this kind of problem.

Franklin remained long in Poirot's room. He finally walked out the door, and I was waiting for him.I pulled him into my room and closed the door. How about it?I asked anxiously. Franklin said thoughtfully: He's a really amazing guy. Oh, that's right.I brush aside this truism.But what about his health? oh!his health?Franklin seemed very surprised, as if what I just mentioned was completely innocuous.oh!Of course, his health was terrible. To me, this answer doesn't sound like a doctor's term at all.However, I heard Judith say that Franklin was a very bright and talented student when he was a student.

How bad is his health?I asked anxiously. He glanced at me. you want to know? certainly. What's going on in this fool's head?He told me almost immediately. Most people, he said, wouldn't want to know.They like to hear comforting words, what they want is hope, and they like to take reassurance.Of course, unexpected miraculous recovery is not without exception, but it will never happen to Poirot. What you mean is that my heart is clenched again, and I feel chills. Franklin nodded. Oh yes, that's what he is.And dare I say, his days are numbered.I wouldn't have told you without his permission. So, he knew it himself. Yes, he knows.His heart would snap at any moment, and the oil would run out and the lamp would go out.Of course, no one can say when. He paused, then said slowly: From what he said, it seemed to me that he was always thinking about accomplishing something.According to his own description, it was a task he took on.Do you know what it is? know, i said.I know. Franklin glanced at me with interest. He wanted the job done no matter what. I understand. I don't know John.Has Franklin seen something about the content of this work! I saw him say slowly: I hope he gets it done.From what he's said, this work means a lot to him.He pondered for a moment, and added: His mind is very organized. I hastily asked: Is there any way, medically He shook his head. There is no way.If he had a premonition that a heart attack was imminent, he would be given several injections of amyl nitrite. He went on to say something inexplicable: He has great respect for human life, doesn't he? yes.I think so. I do not approve of murder.I don't know how many times I've heard Poirot say this sentence!Whenever he made such a confession in a serious manner, it always amused me. Franklin went on to say: This is the difference between me and him.I don't have that respect. I looked at him puzzled.He tilted his head, with a slight smile on his face. It's true, he said.Since death is inevitable, what does it matter if we die sooner or later?no difference. If you really think so, why do you want to be a doctor?I questioned him with indignation. Oh dear friend, the practice of medicine is not merely a means of escaping the end.It's much bigger, it can improve lives.When a healthy person dies, it doesn't really matter much; when an imbecile, idiot dies, that's a good thing, but if you can invent a correct way to implant the glands, correct the hypothyroidism, and let That idiot turned into a healthy, normal human being is all that matters in my mind. I looked at him with more interest.I still feel that if I had the flu I would not see Dr. Franklin, but I have to stand in awe of his fiery sincerity and strength.I found that he had changed since his wife's death.He hardly ever expressed the grief that is human.On the contrary, he seemed more animated, not only less absent-minded but full of new vigor and enthusiasm. He suddenly asked me, interrupting my train of thought: You don't look much like Judith, do you? Yeah, I guess we're not alike. Does she resemble her mother? I thought about it, and slowly shook my head. It's not like that either.My wife is a cheerful person with a good laugh.She doesn't take anything seriously.She tried to make me that way too, but I'm afraid she didn't succeed. He smiled lightly. Yes, you're a very strict father, aren't you?Judith said so.Judith didn't laugh much, she was a serious lady.I think she works too hard.This is my fault. He was lost in thought.I say cliche: Your work must be interesting. Well? I said, your job must be interesting. Only a handful of people find it funny.As for the vast majority of people, they think it is extremely boring. Maybe they are right.At any rate, with his head thrown back and his chest straightened out, he was suddenly what he was, a strong, masculine man.Now I'm lucky!Oh, God!I was so happy that I wanted to scream.Today the National Research Institute informed me that the post is still vacant and I have already taken it.I'll be leaving in ten days. to Africa? Yes.marvelous. so urgent.I can't help being a little shocked. He glared at me. What do you mean in such a hurry?Oh, his eyebrows stretched.You mean Barbara is still alive?Why not?In fact, her death is the greatest relief for me, why should I pretend? He seemed amused by the look on my face. I'm afraid I don't have time for clichés.I loved Barbara, she was beautiful, I married her, but after about a year, I woke up from the dream of love.I think she has loved me not as long as I have loved her.Of course, I let her down.She thought she could influence me, but she couldn't.I am a selfish and stubborn person, I can do whatever I want. But you turned down the job in Africa because of her.I remind him. That's right.But that was purely economical.I promised Barbara the life she was used to.If I go away to Africa, her life will be difficult.And now he smiled, like an innocent child.The god of fate miraculously favored me. This remark offends me.Yes, many men are not devastated after the death of their wives. This is true, and everyone knows it more or less.However, it would be too ostentatious to say so openly. He looked into my face, but didn't seem to get it. I said sharply: Aren't you bothered at all that your wife committed suicide? He said thoughtfully: In fact, I don't believe she committed suicide.extremely unlikely So what do you think is going on here? He followed my words by saying: I don't know.I thought, I don't want to know either.Do you understand? I glared at him.His eyes were cold and unfeeling.He added: I do not want to know.I'm not interested to know.Do you understand? I don't understand, but I'm disgusted. I don't know when it started, but I noticed Stephen.Norton had something on his mind.After the coroner's inquest, he became very quiet.After the funeral, he still wandered around, staring at the ground with a sullen expression on his face.He has a habit of inserting his fingers into his short gray hair, which makes the whole head stand up and down.This seemingly funny but unconscious behavior showed that he was confused, and when talking to him, he was also absent-minded and answered irrelevant questions. I finally realized that there must be something that upset him.I tentatively asked if there was any bad news, but he immediately denied it.I had no choice but to keep my mouth shut for the time being and not to ask any more questions. But a moment later he tried, in an awkward and roundabout way, to ask me my opinion on something. He stammered (as he always does when he is serious about something), and made a long list of miscellaneous remarks, the subject of which was morality. You know, Hastings, it's so easy to say that a thing is right or wrong, but it's not so easy when it comes down to it.What I mean by that is that something can happen to a person that you don't want to know about, that's totally unexpected, that's not going to be good for you, but that can be extremely important.do you understand me? I'm afraid I don't quite get it.I'm telling the truth. Norton frowned again, and raised his hands to brush his hair.He tousled his white hair, as comically as ever. It's hard to explain.What I mean is, if you stumble upon something in a private letter, it may have been opened by you by accident or for some similar reason. The letter was originally addressed to someone else, but you thought It's yours, so I took it apart and read it so that by the time you realize you made a mistake, you've already seen what the letter wasn't supposed to let you see.You know, this can happen. Oh yes, of course it could happen. Well, my question is, what's the deal with this guy? I started thinking about this question.I think you'd better run to the other party and say: I'm very sorry, but I opened your letter by mistake. Norton sighed.He said it's not that simple. You know, Hastings, you might read some very embarrassing things in your letters. Do you mean embarrassing the other person?I guess, then you have to pretend you caught the bug in time, when you didn't see anything. Yes, Norton pondered for a moment before speaking.But he didn't look like he had a satisfactory answer.He said wryly: I wish I knew what to do. I said, besides this, I can't think of any better way. Norton still frowned deeply, and said in his mouth: You know, Hastings, there might be more to it than that.Like, let's say that what you read in the letter, uh, I mean, let's say it's very important to another person. I lost my patience. Seriously, Norton, I don't know what the hell you mean.You wouldn't run to peek at other people's private letters, would you? No, no, of course I wouldn't do such a thing.That was not what I meant.Also, it wasn't a letter at all.I use the letter as an example, just to make things clear.Of course, no matter what you hear or see unintentionally, you will take it to heart, unless Unless what? Norton said slowly: Unless it's something you should speak up about. I suddenly regained interest.I looked at him, and he went on: Listen, let's put it this way, if you see something through the keyhole in the room Speaking of the keyhole, I suddenly thought of Poirot!And Norton continued hesitatingly: I mean, you might have a good reason to look in the lock, like the key is stuck, you want to see if something is stuck in the lock, or some other good reason but you see you Never thought you'd see something. For a while, I didn't hear his stammering words, because I suddenly understood.I remember the day we were on a grassy knoll and Norton held up his binoculars to see a spotted woodpecker.I remember that his face immediately became distressed and embarrassed, and he tried to prevent me from using his binoculars.I immediately came to the conclusion that what he saw was related to mine and what he saw must be Yaletown and Judith.But what if this is not the case?What if he saw something else entirely?I think it must have had something to do with Yaletown and Judith, because I couldn't think of anything else because I was so preoccupied with them. I asked unexpectedly: Did you see something through the telescope? Norton looked both surprised and relieved. I said, Hastings, how did you guess that? It's you, me and Elizabeth.Cole's day at the top of the knoll, right? Yes, that day. And you don't want me to see it? right.That kind of thing can't, uh, I mean, that kind of thing shouldn't be seen by anyone. What do you see? Norton frowned again. This is where the problem lies.Should I say it?I mean, that's uh, voyeurism.I see things I shouldn't see.I didn't mean to go to peek, there was a spotted woodpecker there at the time, it was beautiful, but then I saw other things. He stopped talking.I was already curious, greatly curious, but I respected his prudence. I asked: That thing is important? He said slowly: May matter.That's it.I don't know either. I asked again: Did it have something to do with Mrs. Franklin's death? He was taken aback. It's strange that you say that. So it had something to do with Mrs. Franklin's death. No, no, there is no direct connection.However, there may also be hesitation: it will make you look at something in a new way.It could mean oh shit, I don't know what to do! I am also in a dilemma.I was curious as hell, but I sensed that Norton was very reluctant to say what he had seen.I can understand that.If it were me, I would feel the same way.It is always unpleasant to be in a situation where you know the inside story of something and others think you learned it improperly. A thought flashed through my mind. Why don't you consult with Poirot? Poirot?Norton looked suspicious. Yes, ask him to give you some advice. Uh, Norton said slowly.That's a good idea.It's just that he is a foreigner, he didn't finish his sentence, and his expression was very awkward. I see what he means.Poirot has always been just and stern about tricks, and I know that all too well.The only thing I don't understand is why it never occurred to Poirot to get himself a bird-watching telescope?If he thought about it, he would definitely do it. He'll keep your secret, I urge him.And, if you don't like his advice, you don't have to follow it. That's the truth, Norton said, his brow brightening.You know, Hastings, I think I'll do that. I was surprised because Poirot's reaction to the information I brought was immediate and violent. Hastings, what are you talking about? He put down the slice of toast he had just brought to his mouth, and stuck his head forward. Tell me, tell me quickly. I told what happened. He saw something through the telescope that day, and Poirot repeated my words while thinking.One thing he doesn't want to tell you.He reached out quickly and grabbed my arm.Didn't he tell anyone else about this? I don't think so.No, I'm sure he didn't tell anyone else. Hastings, you must be very careful.It is very important that he should not tell others, not even the slightest bit.Otherwise it is likely to be dangerous. Danger? very dangerous!Poirot's face was very serious.My friend, ask him to come to my room tonight.You know, like when a friend comes to see me on a whim out of good intentions.Don't let anyone suspect that he has come to see me for any particular reason.Be careful, Hastings, be very, very careful.You just said, who else was with you that day? Elizabeth.Cole. Did she notice that there was something strange in his expression? I tried to remember. I have no idea.Maybe she sensed it.Should I ask her if she has You can't say anything, Hastings, not a word.