We really must try and broaden your horizons a little.
Some of these pieces are terribly revealing.
For instance, what do you make of that?
I do not know what to make of it, Madame Oliver.
Not symmetrical enough for you?
Oh, look. It's Mr Shaitana.
What is he? An Armenian?
A Greek?
No-one knows. All that is known is that he is one of the richest men in London.
He gives me the jitters.
Mind if I make myself scarce?
Non. Comme vous voulez, madame.
My dear Monsieur Poirot.
Monsieur Shaitana, good day.
How nice to see you.
Not hanging or guillotining much at present?
Is it off season for the criminals or is our little gallery about to be robbed?
No, alas, monsieur, non, non.
I am here purely in my private capacity.
But I see that you yourself have lent a few pieces?
Oh, one picks up trifles here and there.
I have a few interesting objects I could show you.
I dare say I could even produce one or two things in your line, Poirot.
Ah, so you have then your private Black Museum?
Oh, no, no, no.
I don't collect the artefacts of crime- the murderer's hammer, the poisoner's cup.
I collect only the finest objects of their kind.
And what do you consider to be the finest objects - artistically speaking - in crime?
Why, the human beings who commit them, monsieur.
It is modelled on the Alhambra.
In Pontefract?
In Spain.
Oh, I thought you meant the picture house. Sorry.
Monsieur Hercule Poirot.
My dear Monsieur Poirot!
Come in, come in!
How simply divine to see you.
Monsieur Shaitana.
I don't know if you know the famous Mrs Oliver.
Yes, of course I do.
- Enchanté, madame. - Hello, Poirot.
We met at a literary dinner. Mrs Oliver was the guest of honour.
Oh, yes, it was the "Crime Writers' Circle".
Come to think of it, what were you doing there?
You're acquainted with Superintendent Wheeler?
Yes, of course.
Please do excuse me.
Superintendent.
- Nice to see you again, Poirot. - And you.
Is it really vast, the Amazon?
Oh, yes. In some parts, it's 30 miles wide, you know.
Goodness. That's much bigger than the Thames, isn't it?
Do you know Mr Shaitana well, Colonel Hughes?
No, not at all.
I'm rather surprised to be invited, as a matter of fact.
Do you know him?
I know that he likes to be different.
Probably went to the wrong kind of school.
Colonel Hughes. Excuse us.
Come and meet Major Despard.
I rather think you've both been on safari.
Now, there's a good boy.
Do you know anyone here, madame?
No, I don't know a soul.
But I've made a few enquiries.
- Oui? - Yes.
That little thing is Anne Meredith.
A country mouse, up to town.
The dashing Major can't keep his eyes of her.
As a matter of fact I've got his book on my shelf. Oh, what's it called?
"Amazonian Idyll".
I haven't read it yet, but I intend to, because I'm planning to send Sven up the jungle.
Sven?
Sven Hjerson, my detective.
Ah!
Fictional, of course.
I've no idea who the older lady is - Mrs Lorrimer.
But she and the young one have been throwing glances at each other in a most odd manner.
Who's the policeman?
Superintendent Wheeler of Scotland Yard.
Bowel trouble, that would be my guess.
And your friend from the Foreign Office?
That is Colonel Hughes.
Secret Service, is he?
Je ne sais pas.
Hmm.
It seems our Mr Shaitana is a little bit... crime-minded, shall we say?
He has the most curious taste.
One never knows what he's going to find amusing.
It might be something...
cruel.
You mean, peut-ètre, like the fox hunting?
No, I meant something more...
...oriental.
Dr Roberts.
Good to see you. I'm not late, am I?
An elderly patient called me out. She thought she had a tumour.
- She was depressed. - What did you prescribe?
Champagne and oysters at Wilton's. She'll be right as rain.
Remind me never to go to him if I'm poorly.
I imagine that Major Despard would know a suitable method.
He's spent time under canvas, after all.
Know any good poisons, Despard?
Well, there's curare, I suppose.
My dearman, that's terribly old-fashioned.
You must know something more obscure than that.
I mean something new and totally untraceable.
The truth is that primitive tribes tend not to follow the latest fashions.
They tend to stick with what their grandfathers used.
I should have thought they were always experimenting with herbs and sap and so forth.
In real life, Mrs Oliver, people normally use arsenic, because it's nice and handy.
Oh, drivel!
You're only saying that because there are crimes Scotland Yard's never even heard of!
Now, if you had a woman in charge...
- A woman? - And why not?
Women know about crime!
It's true. Women are usually highly successful criminals.
They keep their heads. They brazen things out.
Typically a woman's weapon is poison, is it not, Poirot?
Oui. Often, oui.
There must be a tremendous number of women poisoners who have never been found out.
You're absolutely right.
Of course a doctor also has many opportunities of that sort.
Oh, Mr Shaitana, I must protest. When we poison our patients, it's entirely by accident.
If I were to commit a crime...
I should like to keep it very simple.
An accident, perhaps, a shooting accident for example,
or a domestic accident
one of the little tragedies that never gets reported.
But then who am I to pontificate... with so many experts present?
It is my passion.
I always take one of my very special guests.
Everyone ready?
The last time I was in Egypt I met a friend of yours - a Mrs Craddock.
Oh, you knew poor Mrs Craddock.
Hurry up, old boy- I can't keep smiling for ever!
Stand still, everyone!
Now, I know that Mrs Lorrimer plays.
Do you play bridge, Miss Meredith?
Yes. I'm not frightfully good.
- Major Despard? - Yes, I do.
- Doctor? - Mm.
Excellent, excellent.
Now, supposing you four sit here?
Drinks are on the sideboard do please help yourselves.
And when we've all enjoyed our lovely game of cards,
I shall have a rather special announcement to make.
Are you getting married?
No. It's a secret.
Oh, I do love a secret!
And this is for you.
Well, one of us must drop out.
Oh, no, no, I don't play. I never have.
I do not find it sufficiently... thrilling.
One heart.
Pass.
Three clubs.
Three spades.
Four hearts.
Doubled.
No bid.
Pass.
Four hearts, then. Doubled.
- So I'm dummy? - Oui.
Thank you very much, partner.
It's jolly curious.
Here are the four of us, and we're all well, forwant of a better word, sleuths.
So who are those four in there?
Criminals?
They don't look like criminals.
Most criminals don't look like criminals Mrs Oliver.
One, no trump.
Three hearts.
No bid.
Four hearts.
Doubled.
Pass.
- Pass. - Pass.
Three clubs.
Three spades.
Doubled.
One heart.
- Pass. - Pass.
Pass.
Five diamonds. Game and rubber. Good for you, partner.
It's ten past twelve. Time for another?
No, no, no, I'm a family man. You'll have to excuse me.
I also must go.
Well, I'm afraid, Mrs Oliver we're all up, and you're down.
All I did was follow my instincts.
I don't know what went wrong tonight.
How much is it?
Got to be going, Shaitana.
Three clubs.
Double three clubs.
Three no trumps.
Double three, no trumps.
I'm damned if he hasn't fallen asleep.
Mr Shaitana?
I say, Poirot.
Colonel Hughes?
My God.
Ladies and gentlemen, could I have your attention?
I'm very sorry to have to inform you that Mr Shaitana... is dead.
Dead?
Are you sure? Let me check the man's pulse.
- Dr Roberts, stay where you are. - He may just have fainted.
He hasn't fainted.
He's been murdered.
- Murdered? - Stabbed through the heart.
Why should I be interested in the murderer who is caught?
He's a poor specimen, a failure, by definition.
No, for me only the best.
And the best, it is...?
My dear fellow, the ones who get away with it.
Ça, ce n'est pas amusante.
Have I shocked your bourgeois sensibilities?
It is true I have a thoroughly bourgeois attitude to murder.
But a murderer can be an artiste. Non?
Mais oui.
But he is still a murderer.
Ah, Poirot... I understand.
You must adopt this mentality
because if the murderer gets away with it,
where does that leave you?
So no butler and no servants.
No. No-one came in, and no-one went out.
Well, we're agreed, then. One of that card party must have killed him.
One of those people a murderer?
Impossible!
What do you think, Poirot?
Well, I think this murder, it was not planned.
I think Shaitana says something, or does something,
which causes someone to panic.
Now, he said he was going to reveal a secret.
So somebody gets the wind up, and then...
If I were you I'd arrest that doctor at once.
As soon as I saw him my instinct said he was a bad 'un.
If we had a woman at the head of Scotland Yard, we would.
Because we only have men, we sort of have to arrive rather more slowly at our destination.
Right, let's get 'em in.
- Mrs Oliver? - Oh, please, may I stay?
No, no, no. That would be irregular, Mrs Oliver.
But I lost three pounds seven shillings at bridge! Right next door to a murder!
Oh, please!
No interruptions. All right?
- O'Connor? - Sir?
- Send in Dr Roberts. - Sir.
I'd have kept him till last.
Sorry.
In a book, I mean.
- Real life is a little different. - Yes.
Badly constructed.
Well, Shaitana amused me. He was such a bizarre fellow, wasn't he?
But I had no reason for killing him, and I didn't kill him.
Dr Roberts, tax your memory carefully
and tell me how many times you left your seat at the bridge table.
Well, we began to play at nine-thirty, didn't we?
About an hour later I stoked the fire.
A short time after that I brought drinks for the ladies,
and then about half past eleven, I should say,
I got up again to make myself a whisky and soda.
- And Shaitana was asleep? - Yes.
You couldn't see him clearly from your table?
Look, when you're playing bridge,
you're not peering around, noticing what's going on.
The only person who might be doing that is dummy.
Dr Roberts, just give me your opinion, man to man.
Who did it?
Well, it doesn't seem to me likely that the women are in on it.
But that Despard, he'd take a risk.
And it was a hell of a risk, wasn't it?
Look, erm...
Go ahead, it's been fingerprinted. There's nothing.
What a tool!
Absolutely made for murder.
It'd go in like butter. Whose was it?
It was Shaitana's. It lay on the table by the door.
Stand still everyone.
Dr Roberts, do you have a regular bridge partner?
No, I'm not that serious about it. But I like the game.
And may I ask of you for your opinion
of your companions tonight, as card players?
Well, Mrs Lorrimer's first class. I bet she makes a tidy income out ofbridge.
Despard's a good player, too, what I call a sound player, a long-headed chap.
Miss Meredith you might describe as safe.
She's not brilliant but she doesn't make mistakes.
And of you yourself?
Well, I overcall my hand a bit, or so they say, but I've always found it pays.
Especially where the ladies are concerned.
I got up only once, when I was dummy.
I went to the fire.
Mr Shaitana was still alive then.
Dr Roberts poured me a drink.
He also poured himself one later.
Major Despard also went to fetch a drink.
Yes, the men moved about a good deal. I wasn't really paying much attention.
Miss Meredith didn't leave her seat at all.
She didn't get up once?
That sounds unlikely.
Superintendent Wheeler, I realise that one of the four people in that room must be guilty.
Naturally, I don't expect you to simply take my word that I am not that person.
But you will kindly not imply that I tell lies.
Did you know Shaitana well?
Yes, I'd known Mr Shaitana for some time.
I met him in Egypt at the Men a Palace Hotel.
May I? It is my hobby.
I thought him...
well, I may as well say it...
a charlatan.
I thought him a poseur, and rather theatrical and irritating.
But I'd no motive to wish him out ofthe way.
It's really a matter of indifference to me whether he's alive or dead.
Will you take a look at this, please, Mrs Lorrimer?
It's a stiletto.
Now, I hope you realise that with a weapon like that
a woman could do the trick just as easily as a man.
Yes, I'm sure she could.
Which of the other people do you consider to be the most likely?
Superintendent, that is an improper question, and I have no intention of answering it.
We've been through the place thoroughly: Can't find anything at all.
But I'll get that photograph developed, sir, shall I?
Yes.
What's the idea, Poirot?
That there may be something in the way that the players kept the scores.
Now, this is the first rubber, and you'll notice that the figures are neat and small
and it is that of Mademoiselle Anne Meredith.
Now, the next... Now, this score is not so easy to follow
because is it kept in the style of cancellation.
But it does tell us something about Major Despard,
a man who likes to know all of the time where he stands.
Oh, by the way, Superintendent,
I could not help but notice that in the bottom of the glass belonging to Monsieur Shaitana
there is a little residue.
O'Connor?
Now, this next rubber...
Ah, this is done by Madame Lorrimer.
You will notice that her handwriting is graceful, but firm.
And it is she and Dr Roberts against the other two.
Definitely something there, sir. Can't tell what it is.
Well, let's get it analysed, then.
Regardez, 1,500 points in one hand.
C'est formidable, eh!
Now, this is the unfinished rubber.
You will notice that the scores they are much lower,
because now the Dr Roberts he is partnering Mademoiselle Meredith,
and she is a player most timid, n'est-ce pas?
I live at Wendon Cottage, Wallingford.
So how well did you know Mr Shaitana?
I didn't know him well at all.
I thought him a most frightening man.
That awful smile!
And he'd a way of bending over you, as if he intended to bite you!
Yes. Where did you meet?
We met in Switzerland during the winter sports about nine months ago.
Hello..
He cut marvellous figures on the ice.
I don't suppose you'd care to come to an aprés-ski?
They were fun. The parties.
But he wasn't?
He's a shivery kind of chap.
Now, then, about tonight, my dear.
Did you leave your seat at all?
I don't think so.
I may have done once.
I looked at the other players' hands.
- So you left your seat once? - Yes.
But you stayed by the table?
- Yes. - All the time?
No, no, no, I...
I... l...
I think I walked about.
You walked about?
- To the fire perhaps? - No!
No, I... l... I didn't.
I didn't get up at all.
I'm sorry, Miss Meredith,
I know that you're nervous, but you really must try and tell me the truth.
All right?
So you walked about.
Yes.
- In the direction of Mr Shaitana? - When he was by the fire?
- Yes. - No.
- Quite sure? - I honestly don't remember.
Honestly.
So who do you think killed him?
I can't believe anyone did.
Someone did, mademoiselle.
And they used this.
Oh, it's all so awful!
My sergeant will get you a taxi, my dear.
Now, listen, take a couple of aspirin.
Try and get some sleep, all right?
Off you go.
Such a wonderful fatherly air, Wheeler.
Yes, well, I do have children, you know.
Besides, she's only a slip of a thing.
Regardez.
When Mademoiselle Anne Meredith keeps the scores...
...she turns over the card
she draws the line
and uses the back.
So?
So she understands poverty, mon ami.
She knows what it is to have nothing.
I had every motive for disliking Shaitana.
For disliking him, not killing him.
And what were your motives for disliking him, Major?
He dressed like a...
Well, you know.
And the perfume.
And yet you accepted his invitation to dinner.
Were I only to dine in houses where I approved of my host,
I wouldn't eat out much, I'm afraid.
Don't you like London society?
What we call "civilisation"?
Only for very short periods.
To come back from abroad to well-lit rooms
beautiful women in beautiful clothes yes, it's pleasant for a time.
But after a while it palls.
The insincerity sickens me, and I want to be off again.
I know what you mean.
Must be a dangerous life you lead.
Less dangerous than Shaitana's, by the look ofit.
Well, yes, I think he did lead a fairly dangerous life.
Because he meddled in other peoples' lives?
No, because he meddled with other peoples' women. Didn't he?
I don't think desirable women would take a mountebank like that very seriously.
How did you meet him?
He paid handsomely to accompany me on one of my expeditions.
Could you describe any ofthe other peoples' movements this evening?
Well, everyone got up at one time or another. I doubt I can be too specific.
I remember Mrs Lorrimer went to the fire and said something to Mr Shaitana.
That was a delicious meal, Mr Shaitana.
I've no idea whether he was still alive or not.
Who do you think killed him?
Well, I know I didn't.
Miss Meredith didn't.
And Mrs Lorrimer reminds me of one of my God-fearing aunts.
She didn't.
That leaves the medical gentleman.
But why did Shaitana invite them here?
He invited them here because he believed one of them to be a murderer.
So what are you saying?
That he invited a killer to dinner?
Oui.
Shaitana was a collector.
He collected the fantastic and the unusual.
I think he invited to dinner four people who might have been killers.
Well, looks like he was right in one case, at least.
But he can only have suspected these people.
I mean, he couldn't be sure.
And he believed he brought to dinner someone who had committed murder.
The question, it is why?
There must be a tremendous number of women poisoners
who have never been found out.
A doctor also has plenty of opportunities of that sort.
Oh, Mr Shaitana, I must protest.
When we poison our patients, it's entirely by accident.
If I were to commit a crime...
I should like to keep it very simple.
An accident perhaps, a shooting accident for example,
or a domestic accident
one of the little tragedies that never gets reported.
Those words shot home to one person.
A person who had already killed.
So if we can find the victim we can find a hallmark, too.
What do you mean?
- He means that man is an unoriginal animal. - Really?
Women are capable of infinite variety.
Have you never written the same plot twice?
- Mr Wheeler, please! - The Lotus Murder. Death of a Debutante.
- You've read them, have you? - Oui, bien sur.
- And I have noticed several inaccuracies. - I know, I know!
I made sulphonal soluble in water and it isn't.
Bother!
Eh, bien, what we are searching for is a murderer who is impulsive,
who will seize the opportunity, whatever the risk.
Which one ofthem would do that?
I don't think you'll find many chaps who'll say a word against me.
No indiscretions?
Well, if there were I've been discreet about them.
Cherchez la femme, eh?
I think you'll find my record's clear, Colonel.
Then you won't mind me having a word with some of the fellows from your former regiment?
Rake around in the manure as much as you like.
You won't find buried treasure.
I'm unmarried. My parents are dead.
I live here with the cook, parlourmaid, housemaid. My secretary comes in daily.
I make a good income and I only kill a reasonable number of my patients.
How many?
I beg your pardon?
How many have you killed?
Look, I know you can get a warrant easily enough.
Miss Burgess, come in, please.
Miss Burgess, this is Superintendent Wheeler.
Please take him into the office and let him go through anything he likes.
Yes, Doctor.
Excuse us, Poirot.
Oui.
Doctor, I have here the first three rubbers from the other evening.
And I wonder if you could tell to me exactly how it went, each hand?
How could I possibly be expected to do that?
Par example, in the first game, there must have been
a game call in hearts or spades,
or, well, they could not have gone down 30, could they?
Let me see.
Yes, I think they went out in spades.
Exactement. You see what is possible with the powers of deduction?
So the next hand, s'il vous plait.
Oh, Poirot, you can't expect me to remember the whole evening!
- You can remember nothing at all? - Well, I got a grand slam, but otherwise...
My dear sir, there was a murder.
Oui, d'accord, d'accord.
So, you never saw his name in the society pages, then?
Shaitana.
I do not read the society pages. I have better things to do.
What is it you're looking for?
Well, we've had malicious accusations you see, and they've got to be investigated.
Has someone said something against the doctor?
Well, it's probably nothing, but I have to follow it up, you see, Miss Burgess.
Especially when it concerns a patient.
Erm... a lady patient?
Someone's got hold of the Craddock story, haven't they?
Yes. Yes.
I'm afraid that they have.
It'd be, what, about five years ago now?
More like three.
Look, Dr Roberts is a thoroughly decent man.
But decent men can suffer at the hands of hysterical women.
And that's what she was- hysterical.
And a nymphomaniac, too.
Bloody hell.
Now, if you would be so kind as to describe the contents of the room in which you played.
Contents of the room?
Aha, I see, psychology.
- Well, there was a lot of fancy furniture. - Non, non, non, non. Please do be precise.
Well, there was a large settee upholstered in gold, damask brocade.
- Oui! - Four or five large chairs.
Several Persian rugs.
Oh, a pair of carved French consul tables.
I feel like an auctioneer.
A beautiful Chinese cabinet.
Some jewellery, I don't know much about that.
Grand piano.
Some Japanese ivory netsuke on a table.
Some Meissen monkey figures.
And one or two pieces of Battersea enamel...
Bravo.
Bravo!
Well, well, Dr Roberts, your secretary let slip there was some unpleasant business
with a party name of Craddock, not so long ago.
Ah.
I can see I'm going to have to come clean.
That would be advisable, sir.
Dorothy Craddock was a patient of mine. Earache, initially.
But then things got out of hand.
It's not just my ears.
Lots of other parts of me ache as well.
Which, candidly, was good sport for a while.
But, of course there was a husband in the background.
There always is.
I begged her to divorce him and marry me, but she wouldn't. She just wouldn't.
And we had the devil of a fight.
Can we talk to this Mrs Craddock?
No, I'm afraid not. She's dead.
Dead?
Yes.
In the end we called it a day, and Dottie took herself off to Egypt to recover.
But whilst there she developed septicaemia somehow, I don't know how
and they didn't treat it very well, and she... well, she died.
Septicaemia?
The poisoning of the blood.
It was a damn shame.
Old Dottie.
Hello?
Anyone home?
Hello there!
Oh, hello.
Oh!
I say, watch out! How do you do, Miss Meredith?
- You remember me, don't you? - Yes, of course!
This is my friend, Miss Dawes. Rhoda, this is Mrs Oliver.
"The" Mrs Oliver?
Ariadne Oliver?
I am your biggest fan! Honestly!
I don't know what you think, but I haven't the least doubt it was the doctor.
What was his name?
Roberts.
That's it.
A Welsh name.
Never trust the Welsh.
I had a Welsh nanny. One day she took me to Harrogate and left me there.
Very unstable.
Never mind her. Roberts did it, that's the point.
What we have to do is put our heads together and prove it.
I do beg your pardon.
You're just so different from what I imagined.
A disappointment, I expect.
Oh, don't worry, I'm used to it.
But why would Roberts want to kill Shaitana?
- Have you any idea? - Ideas? Ideas?
I've at least five!
For example, say, Shaitana was a money lender, Roberts was in his clutches.
Or Shaitana ruined his daughter, or his sister, if he had a sister.
Or Roberts is a bigamist and Shaitana knew it.
Or, how about this?
Roberts secretly married Shaitana's long forgotten second cousin
and stands to inherit a fortune in Syrian gold.
How many'sthat?
- Four. - This is really good.
Suppose, suppose Shaitana knew some secret in Roberts's past.
Did you notice, my dear, he said something most peculiar at dinner, just before he was killed?
I don't think I did.
What did he say?
Oh, I don't know something about, oh, what was it?
Accidents, poisons.
What were the words he used?
I don't remember anything like that. Sorry.
Anne, you're cold. Let's go in.
Bring the tray, dear.
You see, he could have been referring directly to Dr Roberts, and only Dr Roberts knew it,
which is why he made a joke about poisoning his patients.
But I bet it wasn't a joke.
I bet he's murdered dozens of them.
Do doctors usually murder their patients?
Wouldn't it have a rather regrettable effect on their practice?
Oh, Anne, Mrs Oliver's trying to help!
I just wanted to say thank you for coming, Mrs Oliver!
So good of you to try and get us out of a jam.
Act on your instincts, I say. Ah.
Here's my card.
You can look me up in town, if you like.
Thank you.
Bye-bye!
No, thank you.
I have taken the liberty of mentioning your name to my solicitor.
It's a beastly business, dragging a girl into an affair of this kind.
Who do you think did it? Roberts?
I may have done it myself, for all you know.
We know you didn't.
Never take anything for granted, Miss Meredith.
Well, I must be off back to town.
Thank you.
Listen, don't be offended.
I... well, I think you're awfully nice.
But there may be something you don't want to come out,
something Shaitana perhaps got an inkling of.
If so, remember you're within your rights to refuse to answer any questions
unless your solicitor's present.
Oh, do be cautious, Anne.
You know what men are like.
Yes, but he is frightfully attractive.
Thank heavens we've got the place to ourselves at last.
You have lost two husbands?
I am sorry to say I have.
Tristesse.
Well, that must have been so hard for you and your...
Pardon, do you have children?
No. I've no children. How may I help you?
I would like you to describe the room in which, Monsieur Shaitana, he was killed.
What an extraordinary request.
Well, it was a large room.
There were a good many objects in it.
And can you describe to me these objects?
Well...
some chairs, sofas...
And can you remember what was the colour of the upholstery?
No.
Ah.
Do you remember anything else at all?
No.
Do you remember these?
I wonder if you could help me to reconstruct the hands.
Er, well, there was...
Yes, there was quite a lot of bidding on this hand, I remember.
Miss Meredith passed.
Major Despard went a heart.
I bid one spade.
Dr Roberts made a jump bid of three clubs.
Miss Meredith went three spades.
Major Despard bid four diamonds.
- And Dr Roberts... - Four hearts.
...took it to four hearts.
Pass.
- Pass. - Pass.
They went down one.
Epatant! What a memory!
Ah, yes, this... this third rubber was really rather exciting.
Major Despard and Miss Meredith made a one-heart call.
Then we went down a couple of fifties.
Then a battle royal started.
Dr Roberts overcalled and, though he went down badly once ortwice, his calling paid,
for more than once he frightened Miss Meredith out of bidding her hand.
Then he bid an original two spades,
I gave him three diamonds, he bid four no trumps,
I bid five spades and then he just suddenly jumped to seven diamonds!
- The Grand Slam! - Yes.
Roberts had no business making a call like that, but by some kind of miracle we got it.
It was really terrifically exciting.
Je crois bien.
Well, the Grand Slam Vulnerable doubled!
1,500 points.
It causes the emotions, that, hein?
Yes!
Madame, I salute you.
You remember every single card that was played!
Yes, I believe I have.
The memory, it is a thing most wonderful.
With it the past is never the past.
And I imagine, madame, that to you every incident is as clear as if it was yesterday.
Like a ghost...
that never goes away.
My fatherwas a stockbroker.
He died when I was 15.
He left no money.
I found a job looking after three small boys.
A Mrs Eldon, The Larches Ventnor, Isle of Wight.
After two years the Eldons moved overseas.
I went to a Mrs Deering, in Devon.
So how do you two know each other?
Rhoda and I were at school together.
Oh, I see.
And then what?
Poor Mrs Deering became infirm.
She had to go to a sanatorium.
- Rhoda was looking about for a cottage... - I wanted someone to share with.
Anne was perfect.
I say, Anne.
You didn't mention the Crossways. Did you forget?
I didn't think it counted.
I was only there a few weeks.
I had a good poke around, but I didn't see anything too suspicious.
Yet, to tell the truth, there's something rather off about their relationship.
Now, the Rhoda girl, she's the one with the money, yet I would say she's jealous of Anne.
Anne's the one with the admirers.
There were, I think, some photographs of her father, but absolutely none of her mother.
Well, that's it.
I expect you've done vastly more detecting than I have.
Au contraire, madame.
You have told to me a great deal.
For myself, the only information that I have
is that Dr Roberts, he had a lover.
Oh, really?
Oui.
A lady called Craddock.
She went to Egypt, where regrettably she died.
Lord! I went to Egypt once. It was dismal.
The Pyramids are actually tiny.
And you have to have about a million ghastly injections before you go.
And the insects.
Oh, that reminds me.
Here.
Major Despard's opus.
Your opinion, madame, as an expert?
Well, he could have done with a decent editor, that's for sure.
Here, take a look.
Describe the room?
I don't know that I'm much of a hand at that sort of thing.
To my mind, it was a rotten sort of a room. Not a man's room at all.
All brocade and silk and stuff. Awful.
He did have a couple of top-notch Persian rugs, though.
A Hamadàn and I think a Tabriz.
Do you play much bridge, Major?
No. It's a good game, though.
You prefer it to poker?
I do personally.
Poker's too much of a gamble.
Do you think Shaitana played any card games?
There's only one game that Shaitana played.
Alow-down game.
Look, we all make mistakes.
Even you, I dare say, have a failure now and then.
Well, the last one was 28 years ago.
- So a woman was involved? - Yes.
Shaitana preferred to deal with women.
He blackmailed them?
No. He... he got a kick out of it.
That'sthe only way I can put it.
He got a kick out of seeing people's fear.
He was a louse, Poirot.
What are you doing here?
I was at a legal firm nearby.
I thought it'd been too long.
Has Mrs Oliver been to see you?
Nobody's been to see me...
except the foreign fellow.
Not Superintendent Wheeler?
Well, yes, him, of course.
But he doesn't seem to be trying very hard, does he?
It's as if he knew who did it already.
How could he know that?
I've no idea.
It's not very nice, is it?
No, it's not.
You're used to it.
Hardly.
I don't like it at all.
Miss Dawes.
Ah! Rhoda, how nice to see you.
- Sit yourself down! - I hope I'm not interrupting.
Well, I am working, as you see.
Only that dreadful vegetarian Finn of mine.
Oh, Sven Hjerson? Is it a Sven Hjerson book?
If I ever finish it.
Sven's in a ghastly muddle.
He did some very clever deduction with a dish of French beans
and now he's just discovered poison in the sage-and-onion stuffing of a Michaelmas goose.
Only bother!
French beans are over by Michaelmas.
- Well, they might be tinned. - Well, yeah... they might.
Bother. I hate horticulture.
Oh, Mrs Oliver, it must be marvellous to write. I mean to sit down and write a whole book.
How wonderful.
Unfortunately it's not just the writing. One has to think as well.
The only thing that keeps me going is the thought of the serial rights.
I never imagined you did your own typing.
- I thought you'd have a secretary. - I did have a secretary.
Only she was so competent it used to depress me, so she had to go.
What can I do for you?
I came up to town with Anne - Miss Meredith.
She's seeing a solicitor. With that ruffian Despard.
Oh, she's accepted help from him, then?
You've got it all wrong, Mrs Oliver, that's why I came up to see you.
I know Anne seemed ungracious, but it wasn't you, it was something you said.
Why? Why, what did I say?
You said something about an accident. And poison.
Well, you see, Anne had a miserable experience once.
She was living in a house where a woman took some poison.
Silver polish, I think it was, by mistaking it for something else.
And she died.
Servants?
No, they heard nothing.
But somebody has been right through these rooms.
It would take some strength to bash in that window.
I'd say it was a man.
But none of the jewellery or the antiques has been nicked.
- Alors, for what is he searching? - I do not know.
Think it is related to the murder?
I couldn't say. Might've been some bog-standard burglar, who knew the place was unoccupied.
C'est trés mystérieux.
Oh, I've got the results back from the lab.
Ah.
Shaitana was given a sleeping draught.
Not strong enough to kill him.
Strong enough to put him into the deep sleep?
Yes. And the only prints on the glass were his own.
Well, and yours, sir.
Yeah, well, I took the glass out of his hand when we found him, didn't I?
So what we need to do now is find out who drugged him. That'll lead us to the murderer.
Non.
Pardon, but no, it is much more complex.
This crime, it was committed on what the spur of the moment, n'est-ce pas?
But now it looks as though it was planned. Why?
How can you plan a crime of impulse?
And what was his intention in inviting these people to his house?
He was strange, this Shaitana.
Well, he was a dago with dago habits. Beyond the ken of an Englishman.
He seems to have spent half his life fannying around Egypt.
Oui, d'accord.
Madame Lorrimer she holidays in Egypt. Madame Craddock dies in Egypt.
And Shaitana, always he is there. In Egypt.
Perhaps he was Egyptian?
No, he was Syrian.
Syrian?
- Yes. - How do you know this?
It's in the files.
So did you get anything on Despard, Colonel?
Clean as a whistle.
Fine shot. Cool head.
Strict disciplinarian.
Liked and trusted by the natives everywhere.
Cook says dinner will be ready shortly.
I hope nobody minds garlic.
Ah!
Don't take this out of context
but Despard led a trip into the South American interior,
accompanying a Professor Luxmore.
Oh, yes, he writes about it in his book.
It's very purple prose.
Does he write that the Professor died of a fever and was buried up the Amazon?
Yes, he glances over it.
Mm.
Well, there's a rumour going about that the old boy was shot.
By Despard.
In the back.
I lay odds against it being true. The man I interviewed is an officer, to the core.
Incapable of murder, you mean?
Incapable of what I would call murder, yes.
But not incapable of killing a man for what might seem to him good reasons?
If so, they would be good reasons.
He told to me that he thought Shaitana... was a louse.
All right, Shaitana may have come across something about Luxmore's death.
But John Despard is not a murderer.
Oh, I called in on Mrs Lorrimer.
Of courses he has a rock-solid alibi for the break-in
but as to her character I really have no idea.
She has a power of concentration that is remarkable
and in consequence, is almost blind to her surroundings.
Dr Roberts, on the other hand is an observer who is most keen,
and Despard, well, he sees only what harmonises with the bent of his own mind.
In this case, the Persian rugs.
I shall question also Mademoiselle Meredith, and soon I shall discover
who, or who is not, capable of murder.
What if they're leading you up the garden path?
No, it is not possible to take Hercule Poirot along the path.
Whetherthey try to hinder me or to help me,
they necessarily reveal their type of mind.
Right.
- I'd better get back to the wife and kids. - Erm...
I've got something on Anne Meredith.
We know she was a governess on the Isle of White, and then she went to a Mrs Deering.
In between those two she had another appointment.
Did she, by God?
Anne Meredith was in the house where
a woman accidentally took poison... and died.
Sorry, how do you know this?
The Rhoda girl came to see me and blurted the whole thing out.
It was three years ago, in Devonshire.
Miss Meredith only stayed a couple of months.
- She's never mentioned it, has she? - Excellent, madame.
You have done better than any of us.
Our prime suspect has to be Roberts.
Despard was drinking at his club at the time of the break-in at Shaitana's.
Meredith could never have smashed that window.
Whereas the debonair Dr Roberts has no alibi at all!
Jim, we have absolutely no proof he killed anyone.
You just can't accuse the man because you don't like his manner.
There is a Madame Luxmore, n'est-ce pas?
How did you find out?
My friend Madame Oliver, she pointed out that your editor had made a tiny error.
In Chapter Four, you wrote, 'The Luxmores were researching tropical plants."
Luxmores.
Plural. Two ofthem.
Then, later, there is only one.
Did you shoot him?
Yes.
Were you in love with his wife?
Old Luxmore claimed he was researching roots and mosses for medical purposes.
It turns out he was actually looking for psycho tropic drugs.
He found quite a few, I think.
The idiot began to experiment on himself
What has happened to him?
He went berserk.
Ahh! Ohh!
Ahh!
Luxmore!
There were no other Europeans for miles.
We thought - Lily and I - we ought to say he died of a fever, try and avoid the scandal.
The poor girl would have been ruined if the truth had come out.
Matter of fact, so would I.
So I shut the lid on my finer feelings, and buried him there, and came home.
I didn't think anyone would ever find out.
But Shaitana discovered.
Yes.
The brute met up with Lily.
May I take your picture?
You look so romantic looking out across the Nile.
God, I feel like a heel.
The love, Major.
L'amour.
So often it is the same.
- It's Mr Poirot, Doctor. - Sorry, Poirot, I can't stop.
I have only one small question.
Fire away. Glad to help if I can.
Did you know that Monsieur Shaitana, he had been drugged?
Drugged? I thought he was knifed?
But he had been drugged as well.
Well, how could I know that?
Do you think I drugged him first, and then stabbed him? Is that it? It's clever.
But it is possible, is it not? You are a doctor.
My dear sir, you have a fertile imagination. I'm sorry. I must dash.
- You go on your rounds to visit the patients? - Not tonight.
Bridge tournament. Miss Burgess is at your disposal.
- Cheerio! - Bonsoir.
- Is there anything else I can help you with? - Oui.
Mademoiselle I have a question that is most delicate.
Please do not be offended.
All right.
The doctor, he...
He is something of the ladies' man, n'est-ce pas?
Yes, he's a dog!
I keep waiting for him to try it on.
- And he doesn't! - Dommage.
I tried to kiss him under the mistletoe last Christmas, but he just pulled a face.
I think he was drunk to be honest.
Mademoiselle, could you tell to me more about Madame Craddock?
- Mrs Craddock? - Oui. She died in Egypt, did she not?
You're very suspicious.
I assure you, the doctor can't be blamed.
He was here in Harley Street then.
He never set foot in Egypt. He doesn't like the food.
Madame Craddock did she need inoculations to travel?
Well, of course. You wouldn't want to catch anything Egyptian, would you?
Mademoiselle, the doctor does he have a regular bridge partner?
Oh, yes.
They're devoted to the game, those two. They practise for hours with the door locked.
Have you re-decorated?
No, madame. I have moved.
Of course, how silly of me not to remember.
What was wrong with your last apartment?
Walls not straight enough?
You hit the nail right on the head.
- Oh, I look dreadful! - No, no, no, not at all.
So you think Roberts killed Mrs Craddock?
- How? - Je ne sais pas.
And why, if he's such a skirt-chaser?
Je ne sais pas!
And Despard killed a man?
- Oui. D'accord. - But he had no choice?
Je ne sais pas!
I thought you were supposed to be good at this.
Shaitana, he must hold the clue.
Yes, but he's dead.
Ah, oui.
Eh, bien.
We play.
Ah, may I help you?
I am Hercule Poirot.
And you are Serge Mureau?
At your service. Do you wish to commission a portrait?
- Merci, non, non, non. - Ah.
Artistic work, is it?
I seek the person who develops photographic plates for Monsieur Shaitana.
Well, you've found him.
It is I, Sergeant Mureau. Trying to pay for my vices.
All right, cherubs.
He did say somebody would be along for them one day.
He didn't say he'd be quite so handsome.
Milles tonneres.
Madame.
These are a very nice line, sir.
Oui, but I must have the French ones.
Come direct from Paris.
With the duty, they are very expensive.
They're very nice, but you know
I had in my mind something of a texture a little finer.
These are 100 gauge.
Extra fine.
Like bleeding cobwebs, they are.
Ah! C'est ça.
C'est ça, exactement.
They are 35 shillings a pair, sir.
35.
Then I will have, let me see...
...19 pairs.
Someone's a lucky girl, then, ain't she?
I have asked you here, mademoiselle, because I need your help.
I wonder if you could cast your mind back
to that evening in the drawing room of Monsieur Shaitana.
- Don't worry, darling. - No, no, no, don't worry, no, not at all.
It's just that I would like you to try to remember what you can from the room.
For example, the tables, the chairs, the curtains, the fire irons.
What can you describe?
Oh, I see.
Well... not very much.
I don't know what the wallpaper was like.
- There were rugs on the floor. - Oui.
There was a piano.
But you must remember, for example, an object.
Or a piece of the bric-a-brac?
There was a case of Egyptian jewellery over by the window.
Now was not that at the opposite end of the room
from the table on which lay the little dagger?
I never heard which table that was on.
Ah.
Egyptian jewellery, you say?
Yes, it was lovely.
Blues and reds.
Enamels. One or two lovely scarabs.
Merci, mademoiselle.
So, now may I ask you a favour that is personal?
Well, as you know Christmas it is coming on
and, well, I like very much to send my parcels à I'avance.
And I must buy presents for my many nieces, grand-nieces.
- And, alas, my taste, it is rather old-fashioned. - What do you want Anne to do?
Well...
...do you think the silk stockings, they are a present most welcome?
Yes.
Well, then I ask my favour.
I have obtained 15 or 16 pairs.
Oui. And I would like very much for you to go through them
and to set aside, say, half a dozen pairs which seem to you the most desirable?
Certainly.
Merci bien. Voilà.
So, if you were to be kind enough, well, to choose, what, six pairs?
Merci beaucoup.
Mademoiselle Dawes I have something I would like to show you.
What?
It is a knife, with which seven people were stabbed on a ferry pulling out of lstanbul.
How horrible!
- You would like to see it? - Yes, please.
Anne Meredith's a nice girl. So it can't be her.
And I never thought Roberts did it. Despard's much more plausible.
Merci.
So it's either Despard or Mrs Lorrimer.
Mrs Organised, I should say.
Perhaps this is true. And yet...
Superintendent Wheeler.
Ah, Mrs Oliver, I hope you don't mind.
I was told that Monsieur Poirot was here.
- Superintendent, you're welcome. - Thank you.
Well, I've been down to Devonshire.
I've spoken to the local police.
And you were right.
Anne Meredith worked for a Mrs Benson at a house called Crossways near Dawlish.
Now, Mrs Benson was Rhoda Dawes' aunt.
Every night she'd take Syrup of Figs.
But there was some silver polish in a bottle which Anne Meredith broke.
I'm sorry, Mrs Benson.
Look, there's still some left.
I think there's an empty bottle in the cupboard.
Now, the police believe it was an accident.
Even the old lady herself believed it was an accident.
But somebody put that bottle into the bathroom, and the housemaid swears it wasn't her.
So I'm afraid I believe Anne Meredith deliberately murdered her employer.
What I do not know is why.
Because she is a thief.
What?
Oui, bien sur.
This afternoon I made a little experiment.
I invited Anne Meredith to my apartment and asked her the usual questions
about what she can remember from the room of Shaitana.
She's suspicious, hein?
Very suspicious.
So the cunning dog, he does one of his best tricks.
He lays the little trap.
She mentions the case of jewellery, and I say,
"Ah, was not that at the opposite end of the room from the table on which lay the little dagger?"
But, mademoiselle she does not fall into the trap.
But then she begins to make the mistake to relax a little.
She thinks she has outfoxed Hercule Poirot.
But, no, the real trap, it has not yet been sprung.
You bought 19 pairs?
Oui. And now there are 17.
What a risk she took!
Non, pas du tout.
Of what does she think I suspect her? It is murder. Poirot is not searching for the thief
There is no risk in, what stealing a few stockings.
She has stolen all her life.
But one time she is caught.
By her employer, Madame Benson.
So... Mrs Benson has to die.
It's a credible plot.
But what about Shaitana?
Did Anne Meredith kill Shaitana?
No, no, it's not the same style.
Swapping bottles in a bathroom is one thing.
Plunging a knife into someone's chest and ramming it home like a tent peg is quite another.
See, you... you commence to think like a detective.
Do I?
Oui, bien sur. But the question, it still remains, hein?
Who had the motive to kill Shaitana?
One of them? All of them?
Well, whoever burgled his house could probably tell us.
Je comprends bien.
Despard's story holds up.
Old Luxmore was known to be over-fond of the local hooch.
So the Major, he is telling the truth?
I dare say.
But we can't know for certain.
And there's something else, Poirot.
It's just that I don't really know how to put it, old chap.
It's rather troubling. It's just that I believe we've left a suspect off the list.
- Who? - Superintendent Wheeler.
He could have knifed Shaitana when he went to wake him.
Got to be going, Shaitana.
He knew he was drugged, so he wouldn't have cried out.
Mr Shaitana?
Damned if he hasn't fallen asleep.
And Wheeler's prints were on the glass. Now, he says from after the killing.
- But perhaps from before - Already I have had this idea.
The Superintendent Wheeler, he is my friend.
But if he did kill Shaitana... I know why.
I realised from the beginning that, of the four people in the room of Shaitana that night,
the person with the best brains, the head that was the coolest and the most logical,
it was you, madame.
And if l was to put money on one of those four people getting away with murder,
I should place my bet on you.
So that is what you think of me?
That I am the kind of woman to commit an ideal murder?
Well, I am.
I confess.
It was me.
I killed him, Monsieur Poirot.
Non, madame.
Yes.
Yes, that is why I telephoned.
That is what I wanted to say.
So you killed Shaitana, hein?
Why?
What, because he found out something about you?
Something that happened a long ago, hein?
- Was that another death, madame? - Yes.
You could not know the weariness...
...the loneliness.
No-one could know what it means to...
...unless they have been alone, as I have, with the knowledge of what one has done.
How did you kill Shaitana?
I noticed the dagger before going in to dinner.
Then we sat down to play.
I was the dummy. I strolled over to the fireplace.
That was a delicious meal, Mr Shaitana.
I do enjoy venison enormously.
Why do you tell to me this now?
Because Anne Meredith came to me.
And she is your daughter, I think...
by your first husband Monsieur Herbert Meredith.
A marriage certificate, it is not so hard to find.
I can't bear the thought that I ruined her life.
I can't bear it!
How have you ruined her life?
Why, by stabbing to death Mr Shaitana, of course.
Did you drug him first?
No, I stabbed him, as I've just told you.
Madame Lorrimer, please to forgive me,
but are you absolutely positive that you did not plan this murder beforehand?
That you did not place the sleeping potion into his drink?
No. I simply picked up the dagger and I stabbed him.
Then you are lying to me.
You must be lying!
Really, Monsieur Poirot, you forget yourself!
The question is, can Hercule Poirot possibly be wrong?
No-one can always be right.
But I am. Always I am right.
It is so invariable it startles me.
Now it looks very much as though I may be wrong, and that upsets me.
And I should not be upset because I am right!
I must be right because I am never wrong!
Look, I killed Shaitana.
I am willing to believe that you killed Shaitana, but not in the way that you said that you did.
Either the murder of Shaitana it was planned beforehand,
or you did not kill him at...
Ah, I pounce upon it now!
Non, madame, non, you did not kill Shaitana.
You meet your daughter. She is scared.
And so you decide to sacrifice yourself in order to protect her.
Why?
I am not an innocent woman.
13 years ago, I killed my husband.
The father of Anne?
- Yes. - How did you kill him?
I pushed him down the stairs.
So that you could marry...
Geoffrey Lorrimer, yes.
And he...
He died within a year. Bad heart.
So it was all for nothing, hein?
Poetic justice, yes.
And so you hang for the murder of Shaitana and your daughter, Anne, she walks free.
Just one question that still puzzles me.
How can you be absolutely certain that it was your daughter Anne who killed Shaitana?
Because I saw her.
It was late in the game.
Anne was dummy.
I looked over to the fireplace.
And I saw her push the knife in.
It was Anne.
So... what does the Major say?
He's asked me out to dinner.
Oh, has he?
I wish you would tell him what happened at my Aunt Benson's, Annie.
I feel sure it'd be better to mention it because if something does come out,
it might look rather bad.
Rhoda... it was an accident.
No, it wasn't.
Rhoda... I want to get married.
I want to go off with him and live somewhere... savage.
I'm sorry, but that's what I want.
If you do that, I shall be forced to tell the police what I know.
You've been telling on me ever since we were at school!
Well, I've had enough of it.
I don't want you to go off with Despard, Annie!
Why are we arguing?
We're such silly girls.
It's such a beautiful day.
Let's go out on the river and be friends.
But Despard's a brute.
That great thick neck.
Honestly, Anne, how could you?
I'm chilly. Could you pass my sweater?
Rhoda!
They're there!
- Help! - That's Despard!
Help!
Miss Meredith! I've got you.
Come on, my dear. Out you come, out you come.
All right, mademoiselle?
There we are.
Damn weeds everywhere.
Can't see a thing.
Why did she do that?
Here we are, my dear.
Thank you.
She tried to kill me.
My best friend.
- But she has killed before, mademoiselle. - No, she hasn't.
Mais oui.
She killed Madame Benson, her aunt.
No.
That was me.
I didn't mean to, but I did.
No. She has allowed you to think it was your fault.
But the truth is, she did not want you to be sent to prison for theft.
We've always been best friends.
But you were her slave.
And so, to keep you her slave, she allowed you to think that you were guilty.
She also reminded you, mademoiselle, of another murder about which you told her.
What do you mean?
Your mother.
My mother?
Madame Lorrimer.
It was easy to discover that your mother married a Monsieur Herbert Meredith.
Yes, my father was Herbert Meredith.
She killed him.
I watched it happen.
- And you could not live... - In that house?
No, I could not.
I left.
I had nothing.
I didn't see her again until that dreadful night at Shaitana's.
Well done, Poirot. We've finally found out who did it.
I think you know we have not, Superintendent.
And it was not Anne Meredith.
She did not push in the knife.
This had already been done.
But she sees her mother watching her
and her mother thinks that she has pushed in the knife.
And Anne Meredith, she is frightened to death!
Well, then... who did do it, Poirot?
Perhaps it was the person who broke into the house of Shaitana.
The person who was searching for something.
You?
What was I searching for?
Photographs.
Now, look here, Poirot, I didn't kill him.
I swear it.
You have the motive.
You have the opportunity.
But do you have the character?
This, I do not know.
I have asked you all here to help me to conclude the game.
See, everyone tells to me that Monsieur Shaitana, he was asleep.
But then I ask myself, why should a man sleep at his own party?
And then, of course we learn that he was drugged.
But who has drugged him?
The answer?
Personne...
No-one.
Because he has drugged himself
Which is why there were only his fingerprints,
apart from those, of course, of the Superintendent, on his glass.
That's a bit far-fetched, Poirot.
Ah, but I know that he has drugged himself. He told me so.
It is as close as one gets to heaven.
A dive into the infinite the ecstatic moment of oblivion.
Shaitana creates the crime and then he helped me to solve it.
He has drugged himself because he wanted to be killed.
That was the game.
To die, and to make fools of the police.
I ask of everyone what they can remember from his room. This gives me the key to the character.
And with this key I unlock the door.
I open it, I enter in, and what do I discover?
I discover that the murderer of Monsieur Shaitana, it was not Madame Lorrimer, non.
It was not Major Despard, non.
And it was not Mademoiselle Anne Meredith, non.
And it was not you, Superintendent.
It was you, Dr Roberts.
You killed him.
- Are you mad, Poirot? - Non.
It was you, and only you, who could possibly have killed him.
For the reasons of psychology.
You made the call of the Grand Slam!
And the bid of the Grand Slam it is most exciting, n'est-ce pas?!
To take all the tricks on the table
so now the players, they play with an attention which is rapt.
But who is dummy?
And I soon discovered it was, of course, you, Dr Roberts.
But for a man who is usually so observant, you could remember strangely little of your game,
suggesting that your mind, it was on something else.
But, of course this would not be an easy matter to prove.
Nor would it be easy to prove that you also killed Madame Craddock.
I know a good psychiatrist. Shall I book you in?
You killed Madame Craddock because she had discovered
that you were in a relationship with her husband that was sexual.
You still are.
He visits with you two or three times a week.
Because he is your regular bridge partner.
Oh, they're devoted to the game, those two. They practise for hours with the door locked.
Mr Craddock says you concentrate better if you're not disturbed.
Madame Craddock, she found out.
And she threatened to expose you.
That's rubbish. Anybody can tell you I'm a ladies' man.
Yes, of course.
The ladies' man.
Surely the ladies' man would find to be irresistible, Mademoiselle Burgess?
But you never even tried your luck with her.
Not even under the mistletoe!
She's a secretary, Poirot.
Non, elle est magnifique!
Yet you run away from her!
And when she thought she heard a lovers' quarrel between you and Madame Craddock,
what she in fact heard was a row following her discovery that you had seduced her husband.
Get your hands off me!
You filthy little pervert!
And she threatened to expose you, to have you struck off from the Medical Register.
And so you killed her. And I know how.
Really? How?
With her inoculation for Egypt.
While you were preparing her injection,
she says something to you that you do not want to hear.
I know just what you've been up to.
Excuse me, Doctor.
That's all right, Miss Burgess.
You are interrupted.
And then thinking and acting so quickly, you contaminate the needle with bacteria.
Afraid this hurts a bit, Dottie.
Could never hurt as much as you've hurt me.
The poisoning of her blood which results takes weeks to develop
and in the end, she dies of organ failure.
But, of course the conditions in Egypt are to be blamed.
But before she died she met Monsieur Shaitana.
She wanted revenge.
And Monsieur Shaitana as you know, takes photographs.
Photographs, Dr Roberts.
John Roberts, I'm arresting you for the murder...
- of Mr Shaitana. - All right.
I throw in my hand.
- Look after her, Major. - Will do.
Mother!
But why did Shaitana drug himself?
He is tired of life.
He has... madness in his soul.
He is searching fora thrill that would be, for him, the ultimate.
And in order to achieve this, he invites four people to his house whom he believe have killed
and then he goads them.
There's always an accident, a shooting accident, for example,
or a domestic accident, one of the little tragedies that never gets reported.
And then he takes the sleeping draught, so that when it happens he will feel no pain.
And it does happen.
And as an extra twist he tries to throw the blame on one of us.
He makes us to believe that the crime that is opportunistic
is made to look as though it was planned most carefully.
And we start, oh, pardon, even Hercule Poirot, he starts to believe it.
When all the time the plan was to allow a crime that was opportunistic to happen.
As a plot, that is distinctly odd.
Well, the plots, they are all the same. It is only the psychology that is different.
Well, well done, Poirot.
- Well done. - Merci.
Superintendent.
Sven would have solved it rather differently, that's for sure. Au revoir.
Au revoir, madame.
Superintendent.
Good job you found those photographs of him, Poirot.
Oui.
Superintendent! Those photographs are not of Dr Roberts. Non.
They are of you.
Oh, dear.
Are they?
Oui.
Well, of course if you wish to behave this way, it is up to you,
but for myself, I do not think it suits you very well.
But, please, in future do not let men like Shaitana take the pictures.
No.
No, it was stupid of me. I thought I could get them back, but he'd stashed them.
And I found them. And I give them to you as a gift.
I knew it was not you who killed him, Superintendent.
The murder of Monsieur Shaitana it was committed on impulse, hein?
It was an inspiration, a flash of genius.
If you had killed him, you would have planned it.
And it would have been... dull.
Not artistic, n'est-ce pas?
So... we have played.
And Hercule Poirot...
...he has won.