Lord Edgware Dies

‘In a matter of this kind friendship must not be allowed to influence you,’ said Poirot decisively.

‘That’s all very well, but—’

‘My friend, do you seriously wish to range yourself on the side of a woman who has murdered? Murder—the most repugnant of human crimes.’

Bryan Martin sighed.

‘You don’t understand. Jane is not an ordinary murderess. She—she has no sense of right or wrong. Honestly she’s not responsible.’

‘That’ll be a question for the jury,’ said Japp.

‘Come, come,’ said Poirot kindly. ‘It is not as though you were accusing her. She is already accused. You cannot refuse to tell us what you know. You have a duty to society, young man.’

Bryan Martin sighed.

‘I suppose you’re right,’ he said. ‘What do you want me to tell you?’

Poirot looked at Japp.

‘Have you ever heard Lady Edgware—or perhaps I’d better call her Miss Wilkinson—utter threats against her husband?’ asked Japp.

‘Yes, several times.’

‘What did she say?’

‘She said that if he didn’t give her her freedom she’d have to “bump him off”.’

‘And that was not a joke, eh?’

‘No. I think she meant it seriously. Once she said she’d take a taxi and go round and kill him—you heard that, M. Poirot?’

He appealed pathetically to my friend.

Poirot nodded.

Japp went on with his questions.

‘Now, Mr Martin, we’ve been informed that she wanted her freedom in order to marry another man. Do you know who that man was?’

Bryan nodded.

‘Who?’

‘It was—the Duke of Merton.’

‘The Duke of Merton! Whew!’ The detective whistled. ‘Flying at high game, eh? Why, he’s said to be one of the richest men in England.’

Bryan nodded more dejectedly than ever.

I could not quite understand Poirot’s attitude. He was lying back in his chair, his fingers pressed together and the rhythmic motion of his head suggested the complete approval of a man who has put a chosen record on the gramophone and is enjoying the result.

‘Wouldn’t her husband divorce her?’

‘No, he refused absolutely.’

‘You know that for a fact?’

‘Yes.’

‘And now,’ said Poirot, suddenly taking part once more in the proceedings, ‘you see where I come in, my good Japp. I was asked by Lady Edgware to see her husband and try and get him to agree to a divorce. I had an appointment for this morning.’

Bryan Martin shook his head.

‘It would have been of no use,’ he declared confidently. ‘Edgware would never have agreed.’

‘You think not?’ said Poirot, turning an amiable glance on him.

‘Sure of it. Jane knew that in her heart of hearts. She’d no real confidence that you’d succeed. She’d given up hope. The man was a monomaniac on the subject of divorce.’

Poirot smiled. His eyes grew suddenly very green.

‘You are wrong, my dear young man,’ he said gently. ‘I saw Lord Edgware yesterday, and he agreed to a divorce.’

There was no doubt that Bryan Martin was completely dumbfounded by this piece of news. He stared at Poirot with his eyes almost starting out of his head.

‘You—you saw him yesterday?’ he spluttered.

‘At a quarter-past twelve,’ said Poirot in his methodical manner.

‘And he agreed to a divorce?’

‘He agreed to a divorce.’

‘You should have told Jane at once,’ cried the young man reproachfully.

‘I did, M. Martin.’

‘You did?’ cried Martin and Japp together.

Poirot smiled.

‘It impairs the motive a little, does it not?’ he murmured. ‘And now, M. Martin, let me call your attention to this.’

He showed him the newspaper paragraph.

Bryan read it, but without much interest.

‘You mean this makes an alibi?’ he said. ‘I suppose Edgware was shot some time yesterday evening?’