Three Act Tragedy - Agatha Christie [49]
‘And what about me?’ thought Mr Satterthwaite. ‘These actors! Always in the limelight playing the star part!’
‘You will, perhaps, from time to time require what we may describe as Counsel’s opinion. Me, I am the Counsel.’
He smiled at Egg.
‘Does that strike you as the sense, mademoiselle?’
‘Excellent,’ said Egg. ‘I’m sure your experience will be very useful to us.’
Her face looked relieved. She glanced at her watch and gave an exclamation.
‘I must go home. Mother will have a fit.’
‘I’ll drive you home,’ said Sir Charles.
They went out together.
Chapter 5
Division of Labour
‘So you see, the fish has risen,’ said Hercule Poirot.
Mr Satterthwaite, who had been looking at the door which had just closed behind the other two, gave a start as he turned to Poirot. The latter was smiling with a hint of mockery.
‘Yes, yes, do not deny it. Deliberately you showed me the bait that day in Monte Carlo. Is it not so? You showed me the paragraph in the paper. You hoped that it would arouse my interest—that I should occupy myself with the affair.’
‘It is true,’ confessed Mr Satterthwaite. ‘But I thought that I had failed.’
‘No, no, you did not fail. You are a shrewd judge of human nature, my friend. I was suffering from ennui—I had—in the words of the child who was playing near us—“nothing to do”. You came at the psychological moment. (And, talking of that, how much crime depends, too, on that psychological moment. The crime, the psychology, they go hand in hand.) But let us come back to our muttons. This is a crime very intriguing—it puzzles me completely.’
‘Which crime—the first or the second?’
‘There is only one—what you call the first and second murder are only the two halves of the same crime. The second half is simple—the motive—the means adopted—’
Mr Satterthwaite interrupted.
‘Surely the means present an equal difficulty. There was no poison found in any of the wine, and the food was eaten by everybody.’
‘No, no, it is quite different. In the first case it does not seem as though anybody could have poisoned Stephen Babbington. Sir Charles, if he had wanted to, could have poisoned one of his guests, but not any particular guest. Temple might possibly have slipped something into the last glass on the tray—but Mr Babbington’s was not the last glass. No, the murder of Mr Babbington seems so impossible that I still feel that perhaps it is impossible—that he died a natural death after all…But that we shall soon know. The second case is different. Any one of the guests present, or the butler or parlourmaid, could have poisoned Bartholomew Strange. That presents no difficulty whatever.’
‘I don’t see—’ began Mr Satterthwaite.
Poirot swept on:
‘I will prove that to you some time by a little experiment. Let us pass on to another and most important matter. It is vital, you see (and you will see, I am sure, you have the sympathetic heart and the delicate understanding), that I must not play the part of what you call the spoilsport.’
‘You mean—’ began Mr Satterthwaite with the beginning of a smile.
‘That Sir Charles must have the star part! He is used to it. And, moreover, it is expected of him by someone else. Am I not right? It does not please mademoiselle at all that I come to concern myself in this matter.’
‘You are what we call “quick in the uptake”, M. Poirot.’
‘Ah, that, it leaps to the eye! I am of a very susceptible nature—I wish to assist a love affair—not to hinder it. You and I, my friend, must work together in this—to the honour and glory of Charles Cartwright; is it not so? When the case is solved—’
‘If—’ said Mr Satterthwaite mildly.
‘When! I do not permit myself to fail.’
‘Never?’ asked Mr Satterthwaite searchingly.
‘There have been times,’ said Poirot with dignity, ‘when for a short time, I have been what I suppose you would call slow in the take-up. I have not perceived the