“Come, I will help you. What evidence have we that Ascanio and his
friend, or two men posing as them, ever came to the flat that
night? Nobody saw them go in; nobody saw them go out. We have the
evidence of one man and of a host of inanimate objects.”
“You mean?”
“I mean knives and forks and plates and empty dishes. Ah, but it
was a clever idea! Graves is a thief and a scoundrel, but what a
man of method! He overhears a portion of the conversation in the
morning, enough to realize that Ascanio will be in awkward position
to defend himself. The following evening, about eight o’clock, he
tells his master he is wanted at the telephone. Foscatini sits
down, stretches out his hand to the telephone, and from behind
Graves strikes him down with the marble figure. Then quickly to
the service telephone—dinner for three! It comes, he lays the
table, dirties the plates, knives, and forks, etc. But he has to
get rid of the food too. Not only is he a man of brain; he has a
resolute and capacious stomach! But after eating three tournedos,
the rice soufflé is too much for him! He even smokes a cigar and
two cigarettes to carry out the illusion. Ah, but it was
magnificently thorough! Then, having moved on the hands of the
clock to 8.47, he smashes it and stops it. The one thing he does
not do is to draw the curtains. But if there had been a real dinner
party the curtains would have been drawn as soon as the light began
to fail. Then he hurries out, mentioning the guests to the lift
man in passing. He hurries to a telephone box, and as near as
possible to 8.47 rings up the doctor with his master’s dying cry.
So successful is his idea that no one ever inquires if a call was
put through from Flat II at that time.”
“Except Hercule Poirot, I suppose?” I said sarcastically.
“Not even Hercule Poirot,” said my friend, with a smile. “I am
about to inquire now. I had to prove my point to you first. But
you will see, I shall be right; and then Japp, to whom I have
already given a hint, will be able to arrest the respectable
Graves. I wonder how much of the money he has spent.”
Poirot _was_ right. He always is, confound him!