TO CATCH the LEVIATHAN, an Hercule Poirot story

THURSDAY MORNING:1

“Bon jour, Hastings,” Poirot greeted me as I entered his appartment office. I had just returned from an early morning appointment at my club. I greeted Miss Lemon, and she, ever efficient, handed me my mail. Poirot was engrossed in reading some case notes. As I sat reading, mostly bills and my regimental newsletter, Felicity answered a knock at the door.2

“Telegram for you Mr. Poirot,” she said as she handed the envelope to my friend. He studied it intensely, smiled a faint smile, tapped his rigidly waxed mustache with the edge of the sheet of paper, and got that familiar gleam in his eyes. Handing the telegram to me he spoke first to his secretary; “Miss Lemon, pleased to be making two bookings on the afternoon train to Harrogate; and please pack my bag for a four day trip.”3

“Yes Mr Poirot,” was her instant reply as she quietly went about those tasks.4

To me he said, “Hastings, please to send a reply to our host indicating our arrival on the morning train in Harrogate, and requesting that she send a car for us. And you, Mon ami, I suggest you go pack. And, may I strongly suggest that you pack your Webley.”5

To this I raised an eyebrow, “eh, Poirot? But it is just an invitation to attend a weekend at a country estate. Surely you aren’t serious?”6

“Oh, but I most asurredly am, my friend. We may need to prevent a murder.”7

“A murder! But who is the intended victim?”8

“Why, moi, of course,” Poirot said with great dignity. And off he walked to prepare. I ignored his comment as just another example of his self-centred worldview.9

I sat and reread the telegram, attempting to fathom what had excited his ‘little grey cells” so:10

“You are most cordially invited to attend a reconstruction of the mysterious death of Lord William Salpointe-Dahlbert –stop- Your expertise needed –stop- Accommodation at the mannor –stop- Excellent fishing –stop- RSVP –stop-11

Signed – Lady Astrid Sulgrave-Dahlbert12

Dahldale House13

Yorkshire “ 14

Of the mysterious death of Lord William Salpointe-Dahlbert I knew nothing. And fishing! I could not imagine my old friend spending any effort on fishing. Though I however, would certainly take my fly-fishing kit, as this was the height of the Trout and Grayling seasons in The Dales.15

As I sat there composing a reply to Lady Sulgrave-Dahlbert, Miss Lemon, ever efficient, leaned over my shoulder to say, “The telephone is available, if you wish to send that reply now. And, don’t forget Mr Poirot’s recommendation to pack your Webley.” 16

I am afraid that I was more aware of her perfume, as always, than of her advice and simply mumbled some form of assent. I awoke to myself some moments later, and went to do Poirot’s bidding. My fly-fishing equipment was already packed in its tube, the box of flies stowed in the creel. My war service Webley Mark VI was kept in a purpose-built case that fitted into my suitcase. Indeed, I sometimes think that I kept the pistol in order to justify owning the handsome rosewood and brass case. 17

As usual, Poirot was punctuality itself, and we arrived at the station with time to spare. Miss Lemon had booked us a sleeping compartment for the overnight train, and we would arrive fully rested at Harrowgate station in the morning. Our things stowed in the compartment, Poirot delved into the small basket of delectable savouries that Miss Lemon had thoughtfully provided, mostly for Mr Poirot. the apples, cheeses, crackers, anchovies, gerkins, some rye bread and jam, would tide Pouirot over until it was time to retire to the dinning car. Indeed, Miss Lemon understood that Poirot’s culinary needs would require soothing before he faced the railroad’s sorry fare.18

So it was that we passed several hours nibbling quietly away on Miss Lemon’s thoughtfulness. I must confess that I was more focused on the repast, and the possibility of fishing, than on the darker side of our trip. Poirot brought me out of my fly-fishing reveries with a question.19

“Do you know of this mysterious death about which Lady Astrid speaks?”20

“No, I’m sorry Poirot, but I am ignorant of the event. Has it been in the papers recently?”21

Poirot laughed at my innocence. “My dear Hastings, this death occurred in 1773. Mon dieu, I would have thought all Englishmen would know of this strange death and disappearance.”22

“Obviously not,” I said in something of a huff.23

“Let me enlighten you, perhaps. It seems that the severed head of Lord William Salpointe-Dahlbert, the third of his line, was found in the fireplace of his house guest, one Sir Reginald Burgoyne. The guest’s room, it seems, was bolted from within, and the guest himself, when the door was forced, was found dead in his bed, a discharged double-barreld flintlock pistol laying next to his body. What, Hastings, do you make of that?”24

“Well, sounds grusome, yet straightforward. The guest killed the host, severed the head, and in a fit of remorse bolted the door and shot himself,” I surmised. It did, after all seem rather straightforward.25

“Ah, well done, Hastings. You have thought logically with the information I have provided. That is commendable.”26

I beemed.27

“Yet I purposely withheld salient facts, Mon ami.”28

I frowned; as I saw Poirot’s investigative noose tightening around my neck.29

“Ah, yes, I am the trickster, am I not? You see, no murder is ever straightforward. Oh, yes, indeed, the clues may lie in a straight line; but they do not always lead to the murderer, n’est pas? And this is a case in point.”30

He liked to goad me, but I was intrieged. “Alright, Poirot, I’ll bite; what are the salient facts?”31

“Sir Burgoyne had not died of gunshot wounds, but seemingly of heart failure. The door to Lord Salpointe-Dahlbert’s room was also bolted from the inside. And his body was never found. And that, my friend, is all I know, at the moment. But with the little grey cells I will have the solution in a few days, I asure you.”32

I ruminated on his information as a gazed out the window at the passing countryside. I must have dozed off, as I dreamt of fly-fishing for heads in fireplaces. The dinner chimes awoke me. 33

* * * 34

FRIDAY MORNING:35

The northbound train stopped at Harrogate station just long enough to disgourge several passengers, we among them. As I gathered up our bags and my fishing gear I spied a liveried chauffeur holding up a cardboard sign saying “POIROT”. As I carried our bags towards the man we were joined by a young lady, dressed in a contemporary buisinesswoman’s style; mostly blacks and browns; a much more commanding presence than Miss Lemon. 36

The chauffeur tipped his hat to the young woman, “Miss Angeline.” And then to us, asking, “Mr Poirot?” 37

“I am Hercule Poirot, the detective. And this is my associate, Captain Hastings.” He addressed himself not to the chauffeur, but to the young woman.38

“Mr Poirot, Mr Hastings; I am Angeline Bisbey, Sir Archibald Salpointe-Dahlbert’s secretary. Our chauffeur is Lady Astrid’s driver, Collier.”39

“May I help you with those, sir?” Collier asked as he relieved me of half our baggage, and Miss Bisbey’s one bag. “Planning on some fishing are we, sir?” he asked politely.40

“Oh, yes!” I enthused. “With his Lordship’s permission, of course.”41

“Of course, sir,” he answered flatly. “Mr Poirot, sir?”42

“Yes, Collier.”43

“I was only told to expect yourself; and Miss Angeline of course. I don’t think the house can accommodate your associate, if you please, sir.”44

I was about to comment when Poirot interjected. “I had anticipated that, and my friend will be quite comfortable at the village inn. Would you please stop there first.”45

“Certainly, sir.”46

“It is a long drive to Dahldale House, oui?”47

“It could be considered so, sir. Here we are.” We had exited the station and in the parkinglot had come up to a Bentley shooting-brake. While not as upmarket as I had expected for Lady Astride, the shooting-brake had a commodious boot and ample seating. I had expected to have to fit my fishing gear into a posh Rolls, and was relieved at this small convenience. 48

As we were driven out of Harrogate and into the Yorkshire countryside I watched in envy as flyfishermen worked stretches of the river that paralleled the roadway. Poirot, however, gave all his attention to Miss Angeline. 49

“Tell me, Madamaiselle, have you worked long for Sir Archibald?”50

“Since leaving university Mr Poirot.”51

“Oxford?”52

“Cambridge, actually. I took a first in Economics.”53

“Tres bien. You are to be congratulated. That is a fine achievement. What business is it that Sir Archibald is in?”54

Poirot could be so ignorant at times. Absolutely everyone in the UK knew that Sir Archibald Salpointe-Dahlbert’s armaments empire was second only to the Vickers establishment. Weapons, uniforms, munitions, field equipment, even aeroplanes had rolled out of his factories during the Great War. It was said that he had quadrupled his father’s business holdings, and adding mining to his portfolio had extended his reach to Southern Africa, Canada and even South America, especially Argentina and Bolivia. 55

“He is a manufacturer, Mr Poirot,” she answered simply, if not a little disdainfully.56

Poirot smiled benignly, and continued, “Does he conduct his business from his estate, or London, Miss Bisbey?”57

“London, Mr Poirot. But it is fly-fishing season, and he likes to spend a few weeks up here at his estate when the season is on.” She changed the subject slightly, “I see that you brought your fishing gear Captain Hastings.”58

“Oh, yes, indeed, Miss Bisbey. I am a keen angler, when I have the opportunity.”59

“And you, Mr Poirot?” she asked sweetly.60

“Mais non, Madamaiselle, I have no love for the fishing. It is a passtime most tedious, n’est pas?” He looked down at his spotless patent leather shoes in horror. I’m certain he was contemplating the effects of water, mud, and fish scales upon his immaculate wardrobe. “For me the great sport is the chase, ferreting out the prey from his lair. It is perhaps, I think, much like business, is it not?”61

“That metaphor has been applied, I believe,” she said somewhat coldly. I got the impression that she did not much care for Mr Poirot. I intervened to rescue the conversation. “Tell me, please, what this weekend is all about.”62

“Did Lady Astride not inform you?”63

“Not in detail.”64

“Well, then…. Lady Astride has invited several guests to the estate for a four-day weekend to discuss the mysterious death of Lord William Salpointe-Dahlbert. There will be Lord and Lady Dahlbert, myself, Mr Poirot; and I expect yourself; as well as Asquith Beresford, the local historian, and Lady Jeanette Sunderland, widow of Lord Sunderland, Sir Archibald’s late business partner.”65

“A bit of a drawing-room mystery then?” I said lightheartedly.66

Miss Bisbey frowned slightly, and replied, “Sir Archibald takes the death of his ancestor very, very seriously. Mr Poirot and Mr Beresford have been invited specifically to bring a high degree of professional expertise to the discussions. It would be a relief to Sir Archibald if we could find a satisfactory solution to the mystery.”67

“Do you have a theory, Miss Angeline?” Poirot interjected.68

“No, Mr Poirot. I am not altogether well acquainted with the facts of the case.”69

“You are not from the Dales, Mademaiselle?”70

“No, from York, actually.”71

The conversation died for a while, and I realised that we were ascending a winding vale towards a castle-like manor house. I thought that it looked grotesque, thrown together and dull. The only redeeming feature to my mind was the creek that flowed down the vale from the great rock outcrop upon which the manor house stood. There were certain to be trout and grayling there! To my amasement, Poirot enthused about the architecture of the house, and the quaintness of the village that stood at the base of the mount. 72

“It is a masterpiece,” he began. “Observe how well the architect has tied the two buildings together. It is unique, an extension of the rock itself, massive, confronting, dominating the landscape. It belongs best on the banks of the Rhine, perhaps. And the village is a postcard scene.”73

“It is unique, Mr Poirot, as you say. The final architect was a student of Wren, I believe. The existing square tower was rebuilt, the walls turned into stables and covered galaries, and tied in with the walls of the new east wing. When they are in residence here, Sir Archibald has his rooms in the tower, while Lady Astride and the children utilise the east wing, with its kitchens and parlours.”74

As we rounded a bend I craned my neck to catch the best view of the manor house. It was indeed imposing. A Saxon-style tower stood upon the most formidable portion of the rock. From the base of the tower to the brook was a sheer drop of at least twenty feet; the rockface virtually free of vegetation, ledges or any means of access. The walls, I anticipated, formed a courtyard, the entrance to which was through a gatehouse. The east wing, of three storeys, was of the same stone as the tower; obviously from the same quarry, though cut centuries apart. It was all very castle-like.75

The shooting-brake entered the village and pulled up in fron of a nicely appointed inn, mock-Tudor in style; “The Rainbow Trout” by signage. I was immediately at home in my anticipation. Collier unloaded my baggage and assisted me to my room; the last to be had, as it turned out, there being a number of fishermen and day-hikers about. Poirot wished me well, and promised to send the car for me at a convenient time. As I unpacked I came across my Webley case, and wondered again at Poirot’s insistence.76

* * *77

FRIDAY FORENOON:78

“Mr. Poirot, how lovely of you to accept my invitation,” Lady Astrid warbled as Poirot entered the oak-panneled hallway. 79

“Enchante, Lady Astrid. Thank you for your kind and interesting invitation.”80

“I see that you met Miss Bisbey.”81

I’ll just be up to my room, if you will excuse me, Lady Astrid.”82

“Certainly, my dear.”83

Poirot took in the details of his hostess as well as the well appointed but unostentatious east wing of that was indeed a minor castle. Lady Astrid was in her mid-forties, a shapely and well-coifured brunette, with strikingly grey pupils, almost silver in their piercing alertness. She was dressed in a sensible tweed skirt and cotton blouse; looking more the country housewife than the spouse of an industrialist.84

A housemaid appeared and soundlessly carried away Poirot’s bagage. Lady Astrid informed him that he would be staying in the tower guest room; but that she would show him around this wing first. They chatted as they walked, about architecture and the Dales, and the weather. Poirot took the opportunity to explain about Captain Hastings.85

“I have taken the liberty of bringing along my associate, Captain Arthur Hastings. I hope you do not mind. He assists me in all my detective work. Not wishing to impose upon you, I have lodged him at the inn in the village.”86

“Oh, Mr Poirot, we would love to include your Captain Hastings. I will have Collier drive back and pick him up immediately. However, it was wise on your part to house him at the inn, as we are limited in our space here, and I had already arranged for a full house. I have even left our children back in London with their governess.”87

“So Miss Bisbey informed me. I shall look forward to meeting your guests.”88

“I anticipate their arrivals by noon. Here we have….” And they continued in this vein until Poirot had seen the entire east wing. Lady Astrid then took Poirot along one of the galleries overlooking the courtyard. Underneath the gallaries were located stables, tack and storage rooms. In the centre of the courtyard was a cistern fed from runoff from the east wing roof. The Bentley shooting-brake and two Rolls-Royce automobiles were parked in the capacious courtyard. 89

The gallaries gave access to the second storey of the square tower. Here Poirot was shown Sir Archibald’s estate office, a small guestroom; very plainly appointed; and a storeroom. Down the stairs Lady Astrid and Poirot came to the ground floor, where there were only two large rooms, Sir Archibald’s bedroom, and the main guest bedroom.90

Bypassing her husband’s door Lady Astrid said, “Archie is out fishing on Dahlbrook. He should be back by lunchtime, I trust.” She unlocked and openned the oaken door to the guest room to reveal a medieval wonder. 91

Poirot was enthralled by the tapestries, handcarved oak furniture, four-poster double bed, velour curtains, and Persian carpets. “Mon dieu,” he exclaimed, “this is all too much madam.”92

On the bed lay his nighshirt, cap and robe, his slippers at the foot. His clothes hung in the wardrobe, the suitcase empty on a stand; while his accoutraments were laid out neatly on the dressingtable, and his other things put way in the dresser. All the work of a well-schooled maid.93

“But surely, one of your other guests warrent this room and not I.”94

“Normally, this would have been reserved for Lord and Lady Sunderland. However, Archie expressly ordered that you be roomed here. I expect so that Lady Sunderland was not overly reminded of her late husband. They so often stayed here, you see.” Her awkwardness was palpable; but Poirot wondered at its source. All this he related to me later that night.95

“I am honoured, Lady Astrid. And, please give my thanks to your maid for her attention to detail, madam; it is most agreeably homelike and orderly.”96

“I will leave you to freshen up, if you don’t mind. I’ll have Collier fetch you when Captain Hastings and the others arrive.”97

“That will be most suitable, thank you, madam. One last question, though. This is the room, no doubt, where the ancient deaths took place?”98

“Yes, indeed. Archie thought it appropriate, don’t you see.” 99

His hostess excused herself and Poirot began inspecting the room. While almost two hundred years had passed, Poirot searched as if the deaths had occurred yesterday. Firstly he inspected the walls. They were of the same hewn stone as the outer walls. He found no peepholes, no hidden entances behind hanging tapestries, no doors at the back of the wardrobe or behind desks and chests of drawers. The ceiling was solid timber. 100

The floor beneath his feet was stone, with no marks of trap doors. There were two casement windows, which gave a magnificent view of the area, and showed the great drop down to the trout stream. The windows did open for air, but were barred with an iron grating that looked original. Along one wall was an oak ‘pageboy’s-seat’ that hid a commode. The commode was inset with a brass pan and funnel that carried the waste away somewhere into the tower walls. Poirot wrinkled his nose at the ancient commode, but observed that it was scrupulously clean and ingeniously contrived. He found a discrete box of tissues on the washstand next to the page-seat.101

Further along the wall was the fireplace, unset due to the summer season. The fireplace itself stood out from the wall about two feet, with stones of the same origin as the walls themselves. Flagstones then extended out from the fireplace a further foot. The fireplace stood about four feet high. In winter, with a goodly quantity of logs, peat or coal, it would throw a useful degree of heat into the highroofed and spacious room.102

The room itself was rectangular, aproximately 15 by 20 feet. Poirot had accertained that there was only the one entrance. The furniture looked ancient, and even if not original, would most likely have only replced something very similar. And, he surmised, the placement of the furnishings would not necessarily have changed all that much in fewer than two hundred years. Except for the two clamshell lights by the door, and the lamp on the nightstand by the bed, there had been no modernizations that he could discover. And their wiring was confined to a wooden conduit entering the room through the doorframe.103

He sat on the edge of the four-poster and contemplated the room. As was his want, Poirot had shared less detail with Hastings than he knew. He knew, for instance, that the hapless Sir Reginald Burgoyne had discharged his double-barreled horse pistol at the fireplace; and that the head of Lord William Salpointe-Dahlbert had clearly been struck by at least two large calibre bullets. He knew also that the fireplace had been as it was now, unset due to the summer season. 104

Indeed, he now considered that this Sunday would have been the onehundred and sixtieth anniversary of the mysterious deaths. And lastly, he knew, as Hastings was yet to learn, why the deaths were mysterious; Lord Salpointe-Dahlbert’s body had never been found; and, legend had it, Burgoyne had died of fright. And all of this convinced him that he himself was the intended next victim.105

There was a knock on his door. “Entre,” he allowed. Collier entered the guestroom.106

“Madam wishes you to know that I am about to go and fetch Captain Hastings, sir.” Having made his announcement he made to leave.107

“One moment, Collier. I wish you to take a note for Captain Hastings with you. I will bring it to the courtyard.”108

“Very well, sir. I will wait.” 109

As the door closed, Poirot went to the dressing table and took a sheet of paper and an envelope from a small box. Quickly he wrote his instructions to Hastings, placed the page in the envelope, and taking a stick of sealing wax from the box cut a small nub with a letter openner and sealed the envelope with his Belgian Police signant ring. Taking the note he exited his room, wakled out the tower entrance and across the courtyard to the waiting chauffeur.110

“Please see that he has this before he leaves the inn, if you please, Collier.”111

“Very well, sir. I shall.”112

* * *
FRIDAY NOON:113

Upon entering the entrance hall of the east wing Poirot was met by the maid who escorted him into the parlour. There were seated his host and hostess, Lord and Lady Archibald Salpointe-Dahlbert, the noted Yorkshire historian Asquith Beresford, and Lady Jeanette Sunderland, widow of Lord Sunderland, murder vicitm and Sir Archibald’s late business partner. 114

Archie S-D stood, glass in hand, and strode up to Poirot, and with excessive bonhomme, proceeded to shake the little Belgian’s hand almost off. “So glad you could make it, old boy. So very glad. You shall have us on the scent in no time I am certain. Scotch, perhaps,” he offered.115

“Mais non, Sir Archibald…”116

“Please call me Archie, old boy…”117

“Sir Archie,” Poirot compromised, uncomfortably, “….I would prefer perhaps a small Sherry instead, very dry, if you have this.”118

“Certainly, certainly. Agnes,” he motioned to the maid, who went to the credenza and poured Poirot the requested very dry Sherry.119

“Thank you Agnes. And thank you also for the presentation of my room.”120

Agnes, not used to praise, reddened slightly.121

Sir Archie then introduced Poirot to the other two guests, Lady Sunderland first.122

“I am honoured, madam. We met briefly at your late husband’s funeral. Please accept my profound sympathy, again.”123

“Thank you Mr Poirot,” was her brief and pained reply.124

“And noted historian Dr Asquith Beresford.”125

“Mr. Poirot.”126

“Dr Beresford. Author of five books on the Dales if I am not mistaken.”127

“You aren’t. And a sixth, if we solve the mystery here,” he answered with a conspiratorial wink.128

“What will Captain Hastings have to drink Mr Poirot?” enquired Lady Astrid.129

“I’m certain he will take double malt with tonic, if you please,” Poirot instructed as Sir Archie led him to a c chair.130

“Agnes, would you prepare a drink for Captain Hastings; and then that will be all until dinner.”131

“Very well, madam,” the maid replied. Having mixed the drink and placing it my the remaining empty chair, she left the room.132

“Well, thank you all for accepting our invitation,” Lady Astrid began. “We are waiting for Mr Poirot’s associate, Captain Hastings. Ah, I think I hear him in the hallway now.”133

Agnes led Hastings into the room. He gave an almost imperceptable nod to Poirot, and then turned his attention to the introductions, and the proferred drink. After he was seated Lady Astrid continued, “Archie has this long weekend planned out, so I’ll turn the floor over to him.”134

“Thank you dear. After lunch I plan to take the men fishing along the stream, while the ladies visit the shops in the village. Then dinner, and after dinner, a background lecture by Dr Beresford. Tomorrow a morning discussion, followed by lunch, an afternoon’s walk in the dale, dinner and then further discussion. Our remaining time will be spent as we jointly agree, once we have seen how far we have gotten in our deliberations. The point of this time from today through to Sunday is to determined, even at this remote date, what and how happened to the 3rd Lord Salpointe-Dahlbert and Sir Burgoyne; and possibly why it happened. That has a two-fold purpose; to satisfy my curiosity, and provide grist for my friend Dr. Beresford’s sixth book on this region.”135

“I am especially glad,” he continued, “to have Mr Hercule Poirot and his associate with us in this endeavour.” Poirot gave an acknowledging nod, as Sir Archie finished up, “Their expertise, combined with our local knowledge and family connections, should combine for a fruitful conclusion to the matter.” 136

There was a gleam in Sir Archie’s eyes as he finished the speech that I took for enthusiastic pride in his familial project. Having no real background in the mystery I expected Poirot to make extensive use of my objective insights. I was looking forward to the challenge of this investigation.137

Agnes came in and announced that luncheon was served. “Buffet style,” Lady Astrid explained. “Simply file into the dinningroom, take what you wish, and choose a place to sit.”138

We followed her instructions and entered the dinning room to find several chaffing dishes repleat with a delightful repast. Poirot was in gastronomic heaven. “He ‘oooh-ed’ and ahhh-ed’ his way down the serving table. 139

“The bisque is trout and mushroom,” explained Sir Archie. “I caught the trout fresh this morning, thank you very much,” he said proudly.140

“You have an excellent cook, Madam Astrid.”141

“Thank you Poirot. He came up from London with us just for this weekend. Usually I and Agnus do the cooking. I’m really just a homebody, you know.”142

Poirot helped himself to the trout and mushroom bisque, some asparagus-au-vin, Holland rusk & Camembert, and a small portion of tossed tomato salad with vinagarette. I thought my little friend would float to the table, so raptured did he seem with the fare. I skipped the asparagus, but the trout bisque drew me back for seconds, as did the Holland rusk and cheese. Desert was a small brandy-custard tart. We would need time outdoors this afternoon to walk off this luncheon.143

Poirot, somewhat uncharacteristically to my experience, did very little talking. He sat between Lady Jeanette Sunderland and Miss Bisbey, and across from Dr Beresford. Talk was mostly of the Dales. It transpired that Lady Jeanette and Miss Angeline were cousins on their fathers’ side. I sat next to Dr Beresford, with our hosts at oposite ends of the table. The empty place, unset, would have held Lord Sunderland, I felt.144

I tried, but was unsuccessful, in getting anyone to talk about the mysterious deaths; so I reverted to my better subject, flyfishing. It seemed that Dr Beresford was an avid fisherman, and belonged to the Idle and Thackley Angling Association, which holds rights on the Rivers Swale, and Aire and the Leeds and Liverpool Canals. I was livid with jealousy, until Dr. Beresford took pity, and offrered to sponsor me for a day ticket on the Swale as his guest later next summer. In exchange, I told him about my pre-war trip to New Zealand, and the great angling I’d had there. 145

Lunch was too soon finished it seemed. I had brought my fishing gear with me on spec, and was all prepared for the afternoon. Sir Archie, Dr Beresford and myself piled into the shooting-brake; but Poirot begged off, as I expected him to. He explained that he was not a fishing enthusiast; and would walk off lunch by a circumnavigation of the rocky outcrop upon which the manorhouse stood. Sir Archie excused him; but not I felt, with good grace.146

* * *
FRIDAY AFTERNOON:147

“It was thus with Nehemiah, as he circumnavigated the walls of Jerusalem, Hastings,” he explained to me in his room before dinner. I had had a delightful time compairing hand-tied flies with the other anglers, but had caught nothing. The exercise was good, though, and I had an idea where I wished to fish next opportunity. Poirot for his part went on to explain his reconnaissance.148

“As Nehemiah, so I, Mon ami. It was a rough trek.” He explained this as he vigourously cleaned his patent leather shoes, and changed into his dinner clothes. He was formal and fastidious, even though his host and hostess, and their other guests were ‘casual’, in a genteel manner. 149

“From the gate house I walked east. Here the east wing and wall rest on lain foundations, and there is some depth of soil. The monocline begins to emerge at the rear of the east wing. The rock is apparently somewhat flat, allowing the placement of the various wings on the same level. The ground around the rock drops away precipitously on three sides. It gave me cause to wonder if this site was fortified in pre-historic times. At any rate, Hastings, a rough circumnavigation I had of it, taking almost two hours. Most strenuous for this ancient body.” 150

“Below the tower the various streamlets that arise around, and perhaps under, the monocline, combine in a small pool and bog of reeds before flowing on down the dale. It is a place of frogs and turtles, and not, I fear for you Hastings, a haunt of your scaly finned friends.”151

“And this I learned, Mon ami. I would not wish to be an attacker, or a thief, trying to gain entrance to this semi-castle via the rock face and walls. Nor, do I think ingress could have been obtained in those past days via the gatehouse or east wing. The gatehouse in those days would have been shut and barred at night against thieves. And Lady Jeanette told me over lunch that the french-windows in the parlour were only added last century; a fact that Lady Astrid confirmed. What then can we conclude, Hastings?”152

I was on my metal, and answered confidently, “Who ever murdered the third Lord Salpointe-Dahlbert did it as an inside job.”153

“Indeed, Hastings, very astute.” He paused and reflected. “An inside job indeed.”154

With that we left his room and headed to dinner. Dr Beresford, who occupied the upstairs guestroom, met us as we entered the courtyard. “Gentlemen, good evening,” the plump and scholarly-looking man said as he caught up with us. “I’m sorry that you didn’t join us on our fishing expedition, Poirot. It was a grand time. He regaled us with stories about a fabulous giant rainbow trout the locals call The Leviathan. It eats flies and lures, hooks and worms with impunity, they say. I have been Sir Archie’s guest several times, and always find this small troutstream to my liking. Someday, perhaps I’ll have a go at The Leviathan.”155

“The trout were to my liking in the bisque, Dr Beresford. But I do not think they would be to the liking of my hook. Oh! The face I should make. Encroyable! It would put me off eating fish, whether minscule or leviathan. Ah, but now we are about to have a better entertainment than fishing. We shall hear your informed lecture on the mysteries of this ancient house.”156

Sometimes I wonderd at Poirot’s punctilious squeemishness, especially after all his years as a Belgian policeman and now as a detective. How many dead bodies had he seen, I wondered? And yet, the thought of a fish on a hook turned him aghast. Strange man. Well, at least he was following my thoughts on the murder so far. That was encouraging. 157

* * *
FRIDAY EVENING:158

Beresford’s lecture was indeed enlightening, at least for me. From the wiggling in their seats of the others during his long discourse I felt that perhaps they had heard it all before. However, better a full bottle of H.P. sauce than a stale one, I always say. 159

Dr Beresford informed us that Sir Burgoyne was a bitter rival of Lord William S-D, both in business and previously in their courting of William’s eventual wife, Millicent. In both spheres William seemed to be the winner. Additionally, Burgoyne was a profoundly superstitious man. All Souls Night seemed to give him particular dread. And thunderstorms would drive him to wimpering if the thunder and lightening were very close. He attributed such phenomenon to demonic activity. 160

It was reported, after the event, that Sir William had spent the weekend baiting Burgoyne with tales of ghosts in the tower. And then, that night a terrific thunderstorm had brewed up in the hills and fallen with malice upon Dahldale House. Given these facts it did not seem unreasonable that Burgoyne had discharged his pistol for some occult reason at the height of the storm. It was also reported that no one heard the dual gunshots due to the thunder; or if they had it was attributed to the storm and passed off.161

That led Dr Beresford to the greater mystery; the death, dismemberment and disappearance of Lord William. The morning after the storm Lady Millicent and the household servants went to Lord William’s door to attend to him, as they would have of every morning. They were unable to rouse him. In addition, the door was bolted from the inside. Fearing the worst, Lady Millicant authorised the breaking down of the door with an ax. They discovered an empty room. 162

The room, a duplicate of Poirot’s it appears, was tidy, with no blood or suspicious disturbance. The bed was unslept in, and Lord William’s bedclothes were still laid out upon it. The candles were all guttered, and the barred windows fastened. That the room was locked securely from the inside, yet the fact that no-one was in residence baffled them then, as it did us now. 163

Beresford went on to describe Sir William’s character, as far as it had been reported down through the years. He was demanding, highly competative, very organised, and possessive of his wife and children.164

Poirot asked one question, which made no sense at all to me. “What was Sir William like physically?”165

“Apparently,” responded the good doctor, “tall and very thin, though wiry and strong. He often worked alongside his tennants and was known for his endurance. The two paintings of him bear this description out. He was also reputed to be doublejointed.”166

“I see. Thank you doctor.” 167

What he ‘saw’ I didn’t know.168

After that question Dr Beresford described how Lady Millicent and the servants had tried to rouse their guest, only to be faced with a second, and much more serious, conundrum. To this room also, the door had been bolted from the inside; the windows were shuttered, and the candles guttered. But in Burgoyne’s room they found the guest stone cold dead in his bed. His double-barreled flintlock pistol lay in his hand, smelling of recent firing. His face was frozen in a ricktus of fear, his limbs rigid either from rigour mortis or stroke, they knew not which. Yet the most terrifying find awaited them; for lying in the unset fireplace was the severed head of Lord Willian Salpointe-Dahlbert. The floor of the fireplace was a pool of drying blood and gore. The neck had been pulped by the effect of two very large calibre leaden bullets. The bullets themselves were wedged inbetween some stonework at the back of the fireplace, and driping with gore. Of Sir William’s body there was no sign. 169

A search of the tower, all the stables, siderooms and east wing resulted in nothing. Likewise, when Sir William’s tennants beat the district, they found nothing. The Shire-Reeve of the North Riding was at a loss to determine cause of death and the culprit. The head was burried in the family cript in the village church. Burgoyne’s body was taken to his family in Harrogate for burial. 170

Beresford ended his lecture on that note. It certainly was a puzzle. Even more of a puzzle was Poirot’s silence. During the ensuing debate he asked no questions, and responed to every question posed to him with: “But yes, I must put the little grey cells to work on this question.” Eventually, to several people’s frustration, Poirot was ignored and dropped from the conversation.171

To hold up our end I ventured the following opinion. “I recall reading, though I don’t remember where, about doors being locked from the outside by means of fishing line, so that it looked like it was done from the inside. Or alternately, the key was pulled through the inside face of the lock from the outside. Or, more to the point, what about that Sherlock Holmes story where the killer was still in the room, only hidding in the shaddows under a table, and then mixed with the crowd when they broke in. Either way, I venture that the crime was committed by someone in the household, and not by a sneakthief or other outsider.”172

Thus shriven of my theory I remained silent for the rest of the night. Other theories were bandied about, but I still clung to mine as the most logical. When we had talked ourselves out Sir Archie offered us a nightcap, and then Collier drove me back to the inn.173

* * *
SATURDAY MORNING:174

In the mroning, as per arrangement with Collier, I ate breakfast at the inn, a good trencherman’s breakfast it was to. Then I awaited the arrival of a guest, who, by prior arrangement with the innkeeper, would share my room with me. After seeing to his comfort, and filling him in on my ideas, I rang the manorhouse for Collier. 175

I arrived in the middle of the morning’s discussion, though it seemed we hadn’t progressed much beyond that of last night. Solving such an ancient crime was going to be difficult at this far remove. As I sat, Poirot was asking, “Are there paintings of Lady Millicent and their children? Or of Burgoyne perhaps?”176

“What relevance is that?” Sir Archie asked with some testiness.177

“I merely follow a line of thought thrown up by the little grey cells.”178

“Well, Mr Poirot,” answered Lady Astrid, “there are several of the family unit at various ages of the children; but the paintings are all back at our Mayfair home.”179

“Can you recall their likenesses?” Poirot persisted.180

Lady Astrid thought for a moment. “As Dr Beresford said last night, as I recall, Sir William was tall and thin, though strong and with a strong personality. That comes across in the two individual portraits quite well. In the family group, while his height is dominant, it is Lady Millicent’s somewhat…ah…plump figure that stands out to me the most. That and the children’s shorter stature and somewhat dusky complexions. Does that help?”181

“I would add,” added Beresford redundantly, “that the painting of Burgoyne that I have seen pictures a bluff, stout man with a ruddy complexion. That contrasts in my mind with the pale countenance of Sir William’s paintings.”182

“Thank you both, it is as I suspected.”183

“I still don’t see the relevance,” recapitulated Sir Archie. Again, his tone held an edge.184

“For now, I agree Sir Archie, it is not relevant. But, another question if I may?”185

“Please,” conceeded Sir Archie; though reluctantly I felt. 186

“Was there much fishing in the stream during Sir William’s day?”187

“There was indeed,” enthused Dr Beresford. “Flyfishing is a very ancient practice, known at least to the Macedonians. The equipment used in Sir William’s day would have been very basic, but it did the trick nicely, I am told.”188

“And lastly, if you will indulge me; has the path of the stream been changed in any way since Sir William’s era?”189

Again it was Dr Beresford who answered, “Definately not in its upper reaches. However below Wadlington Village it has had several check dams put in, but there are fish ladders to get around them.”190

“Agreed,” chipped in Sir Archie.191

Poirot fell silent at this and the discussion drifted into other backwaters. Over lunch, another top notch repast that Poirot greatly savoured, I spoke at length with Lady Jeanette Sunderland. She seemed somewhat ill at ease, and I tried to use Poirot’s tactic of sympathetic listening. The murder of her husband six month’s previously still ate at her mind and nerves; understandably. I vaguely knew that Chief Inspector Japp had consulted Poirot once or twice on the case. To date it was still unsolved. I tried to steer her away from the subject, but to no avail. Each time I tried, Poirot would butt in with a question or a solicitous comment, and off she would go again.192

By the end of the meal I knew quite a bit about Dahl Holdings Ltd, and the important contribution Sir Geoffrey Sunderland had made to it during the Great War. When I turned to Sir Archie and commiserated him on the loss of his valued partner I received a surprisingly cold silence, and an awkward look from Lady Astrid. I went back to my soup. I didn’t know how to interpret all of this, but I was certain Poirot would welcome the information.193

After lunch we broke into our gender groups again. Off us men drove in the Bentley shooting-brake, flies and rods in hand, searching for the infamous Leviathan. Poirot it seemed was still not to be persuaded to join our expedition. As I later learned, he walked into the village, a good strole for him, and met secretly with my roommate. On his way back he caught up with the ladies, who had been down to the church to attend a rumage sale. Each had purchased some small bric-a-brac or another; their contribution to the coffers of the church ladies’ guild.194

Poirot, apparently, was able to take Lady Astrid aside privately while the two cousins walked on. At the edge of the village, before the road ascended up to the manorhouse, they sat for a while on a two-step stile. With a few gentle questions, Poirot was able to glean some personal information, and guess at a great deal that was not revealed. His admiration for Lady Astrid was quite deep and genuine, and he was able, so he told me later, to offer her some encouragement without giving away his wider understanding of the situation. 195

I for my part had wandered the banks of the stream down past the village and back with some fine luck. I managed one brown trout and one grayling. Beresford and Sir Archie had gone off by themselves and had caught noting. So, I felt the cat’s pajamas, and would proudly add my catch to tomorrows’ meals.196


* * *
SATURDAY NIGHT:197

That night after dinner; Chateau Briand with broccoli in a hollandaise sauce and an old vintage of Lafite Rothschild, all to the joy of Poirot’s palate; when we had all gathered in the parlour, Poirot threw all our discussions into the wind by stating categorically, “I know how and why the two men died. And furthermore I know how and probably where the body of Lord William Salpointe-Dahlbert was disposed of, and by whom.” With that he sat down and would not be induced to say another word beyond, “All will be revealed in the morning after breakfast.”198

The flurry of angry and insensed questions, and Poirot’s stolid refusal to illuminate us, left everyone in a bad mood, and the discussion broke up early and in disarray. Poirot motioned for me to accompany him to his room.199

When we were in his room, and the door bolted, he whispered to me to keep my voice very low. 200

“I want you to return here after dark. Bring your Webley pistol, loaded, Mon ami. Wear your softsoled shoes, please. Wear dark clothing.”201

“But why, Poirot?”202

“Because my life is at risk, and I need your protection, old friend.”203

I was skeptical, but decided to humour my associate. I had half decided that the whole weekend was proving beyond his ability; and that he had only said that he had solved the ancient case in order to salve his own wounded ego. I left his room, found Collier and was driven back to the inn. With me I took a note from Poirot for my roommate. 204

At eleven o’clock I snuck back up the hill, armed and wearing my deck shoes for silence. Poirot had said that he would guarantee that the gatehouse was upon; as it turned out to be. Slowly I made my way through the shadows along the empty stables to Poirot’s door. Daring not to knock I was about to gently open the oaken door when Poirot himself openned it.205

“You are as silent as the elephant in the Metro, Mon ami,” Poirot chided in a non-sibilant whisper, though I don’t know what sounds he thought it was making. At any rate, he hauled me into his darkened room and bade me stand quietly and unmoving in the shaddow cast by the wardrobe. He sat quietly on the pageboy-commode seat. His bed has made up to look like some one was sleeping in it. We waited for several hours, and I was beginning to think my friend had become paranoid, when a slight metalic creek got my attention.206

The sound came again, followed by a slight bit of huffing and puffing, and the sound of cloth being pulled against metal. Then I saw it. A shadow emerged from the fireplace. Not from the wall, as if there had been a secret panel there, but from the floor of the fireplace. I tensed.207

The shaddow formed into a creeping human form and moved towards the bed. In his hand it held a cosh. Reaching the bed he raised the cosh above his head to strike when simultaneously Poirot blew on a police whistle, the bedroom door banged open and the lights flicked on. In an instant of commotion and chaos the intruder was surrounded by myself, Poirot, Chief Inspector Japp and two local constables. 208

Twisting and turning the intruder saw he had no escape, and sank to the floor weeping inconsolably. He muttered over and over again, “Ruined. Ruined. Ruined.”209

* * *210

EARLY SUNDAY MORNING:211

Japp and the two constables grabbed the man, dressed as he was in a balaclava and black boilersuit, handcuffed him, and frog-marched him over to the east wing. There they sat him in the parlour while I and Poirot, at Poirot’s instructions, pounded on all the doors and demanded that the groggy sleepers assemble in the parlour. Beresford had already heard the comotion in Poirot’s room and come running down to see. They all began chattering at once when they say the police and the manacled and hooded man. They all made their guesses, and not one of them guessed rightly. At last Poirot called for silence. The sleep-robbed and pajamed crowd finally quieted down and sat, staring expectantly at Poirot.212

With some dignified drama he said, “I told you that I had solved the murder of the third Lord Salpointe-Dahlbert; and here is my proof,” he said as he pointed dramatically at the prisoner. “Dr Beresford, There was no murder here so many years ago. Only an attempted murder. The culprit was not Burgoyne, nor a thief, but Sir William himself. He was in the process of seeking Burgoyne’s death when he himself was killed by a combination of circumstances, partially of his own making. To that extent it was an acidental death; at worst it was manslaughter.”213

“How so?” begged the confused historian.214

The twower was built on the rock, a good Biblical principle, n’est pas? There is no basement, as with the east wing. Here below us here we have a fine wine cellar, plumbing, and storage spaces.” He pointed downward. Lady Astrid nodded in agreement. “But the tower is built solidly on the rock.” He paused for effect. “There are no secret passages, no trapdoors, no hidden panels to or from the rooms in the tower. I have checked, as I suspect you have also, Dr. Beresford.”215

“Yes, that is correct.”216

And yet there are two areas of the groundfloor rooms that lead directly outside, invisibly, and perpetually.”217

“What!” several of them exclaimed together.218

“The groundfloor rooms each have a commode that empties externally. And, the ground floor fireplaces each have a swinging plate through which to dump the ashes. The ashes dump and the commodes all empty into the same chute cut in the stone. There are no built-in commodes in the upper rooms. And, additionally, whereas the rainwater from the east wing roofs empties into the cistern, the rainwater from the roof of the tower drains down through the central wall to the waste disposal shute.”219

“But where is this chute?” asked Lady Astrid. I’ve lived here off and on for seventeen years, and I know nothings about it.”220

“Indeed. The best place to hide something is in plain site. The chute is cut in the wall facing the trout stream. The ash, effluent and rainwater flows into the bog. The reeds filter much. The stream carries away most. What is there left to see or smell? Look up at the rock wall and all you see is rock. The chute only looks like dark rock, when in fact it is a hole, an empty space in the stone wall.”221

“Yes, of course,” commented Beresford,” a very common medieval plumbing device; dump it into the moat. No moat here, but the stream will do. How quaint.”222

“Quaint perhaprs doctor, but deadly also. On cannot climb up or down the commode pipe, it is too narrow. Ah, but the ashes grate? That is the different kettle of the fish we have been eating. “223

“When I first examined the lovely room Sir Archie required that I occupy, I notice the clean fireplace. The maid she is very neat and orderly, to be commended, n’est pas? But what maid oils a fireplace ashes trap? Not even a chimney sweep will do this thing. A butler perhaps, but there is none here. Who then? Who indeed?”224

“I examine this anomaly, and find, voila! The grate is in two parts, and a removaable frame. If both arE lifted up the thin man can pass into the chute. And what of the other room? Sir Archie is out fishing I am told. It but a trifle for Hercule Poirot to unpick alock, oui? His room is laid out exactly as mine, only in reverse. So, again the voila! His ashes grate is oiled and in two parts. I open, and there I see the light from my open grate streaming down into the chute. The chute, it is only three feets deep. A bending man, a thin man, can pass from one room to the other; even when the doors are locked from the inside.”225

“So how does that help us solve the original crime? And what is happening here tonight?” Beresford asked on behalf of them all.226

“There are, I am sad to tell, one and the same crime.”227

Poirot turned to the three women, and said, “I am truly sorry my ladies, but I must reveal the various truths here, for they surely will be revealed at the trial. Please forgive my unseemly maners at such an indelicate revelation.” He saw instant understanding in Lady Jeanette’s eyes, but continued confusion in the other two.228

“I believe, Lady Jeanette, that you and Miss Bisbey are related?”229

“Yes, that is correct,” she answered flatly.230

You are I believe direct descendents of Sir Reginald Burgoyne; you Lady Jeanette by marriage to Lord Sunderland; and you Miss Angeline through your father?”231

Miss Angeline gasped, but Lady Jeanette only nodded her agreement.232

Turning to Lady Astrid, Poirot asked in the gentlest of tones, “Where is your husband, Lady Astrid?” 233

“Why he’s….I mean,” she grew more confused as she looked around for her obviosuly absent husband.234

“This gentleman in Chief Inspector Japp of Scotland Yard. He and I have been working together to solve the murder of Sir Geoffrey Sunderland. Lady Astrid, it pains me to have to say, but you know why Sir Geoffrey was murdered, don’t you?”235

Lady Astrid only began weeping in answer. Lady Jeanette, overcome with shock was about to pummel her once close friend when Poirot motioned for me to take Lady Jeanette from the room. Lady Angeline followed.236

“Inspector Japp, if you would please.”237

Japp removed the intruder’s hood. Heretofore he had sat silently and unmoving. Now, unmasked he broke into violent curses and tried to break free, and had to be restrained forcefully, so Poirot told me later, by both constables and Japp. It was of course, Sir Archibald Salpointe-Dahlbert. 238

“Sir Archibald, I was aware from the first that the invitation to discuss your ancestor’s mysterious death was only a ploy to get myself up here. I already had you under suspicion, and lacked only the proof positive. Now you have given it to me by your attempt at restaging the murderous intent of your ancestor.”239

“Chief Inspector, I believe that a search of Sir Archibald’s Mayfair house and London offices will reveal all the incriminating evidence you need to bind him over for trial in the murder of his business partner. In addition, you have the cosh he held as he intended to hit me unconscious; presumably then to smother me with my own pillow. How convenient to have had me ‘die in my sleep’ it would have been. How coincidental to time and place.”240

“But then, I Hercule Poirot does not believe in the coincidence. You presented me with coincidences too strong Sir Archibald, and so confirmed your own guilt and also that of your ancestor. You have run true to type.”241

“Dr Beresford, would you be so kind as to locate Sir Archibald’s waterproof fishing pantaloons?”242

“I believe you mean ‘waders’, Mr Poirot. And yes, I know where he keeps them. But why?”243

“Because we are about to write your sixth book for you Doctor. In the mean time perhaps Inspector, your worthy local constabulary can take Sir Archibald off to Harrogate jail.”244

“Indeed, Poirot, indeed.”245

* * *246

SUNDAY MORNING:247

I left the ladies in the care of Agnes, and accompanied Poirot, Beresford and Inspector Japp to the near bank of the trout stream. Despite his distatse for getting his precious shoes muddy, once Poirot was on the scent there was no stopping him. He led us to the first bend in the stream below the manorhouse. Here, when the stream was in full spate the rushing rapids would have crested a large boulder that formed the crux of the bend. But now, at the height of summer, the water level was much lower, and the waters flowing out of the bog formed an eddy behind the boulder before curing around it and flowing on downstream.248

Poirot instructed me to don the waders; he still insisted on calling them pantaloons; and wade over to the boulder. “Fossick underneath and at the bottom of the eddy. Feel for a cavern or ledge at the base of the rock.”249

I fossicked in the icy water, glad at least that the waders were keeping the water off me. Eventuall I did find a space hollowed out of the boulder by eons of water and gravel. My hand found something long and narrow. I dragged it out and held it up for all to see; a femur bone, much abbraded by errosion and green with moss. “Again, Mon ami,” Poirot ordered.250

So, again, and again, and on for fifteen minutes I went fossicking. In the end I had found a hip bone and some ribs. That was enough for my erstwhile detective friend. It was enough for me also; I was frozen solid. Just as I was about to give up I reached down into the eddy one final time only to have a large, slimy mass dart through my hands. And there before all our eyes, the largest rainbow trout I have ever seen leaped out of his hiding hole, skidded across the boulder, and on down the stream.251

“Leviathan!” Beresford screamed, and ran along the bank attempting to follow the huge fish’s erratic flight from groping humans. In the end, exhausted, he gave up, and came back to us.252

“Good doctor, it seems several of your prayers are answered today. We have found the mortal remains of Sir William Salpointe-Dahbert, attempted murderer; and you have seen the Leviathan.”253

* * *
SUNDAY NOON:254

Inspector Japp made arrangements for a medical examiner to investigate the stream bed between the bog and the rock to try to locate any more remains of Sir William. They at least could be intered. The Church, however, might wish to remove him from hallowed ground due to his murderous ways.255

Inspector Japp returned to London with his prisoner; now fully in chains and heavily guarded.256

Poirot, not wishing to impose upon the raw emotions of the hostess and guests at Dahldale House, removed to the inn to share my room for the remaining day of our sojourn in The Dales. I for one spent the rest of my daylight hours hunting the elusive Leviathan; to no avail.257

Poirot, it seems, spent an interesting afternoon with the historian, Dr Beresford, sitting in the inn, nursing drinks.258

“Certainment Doctor, you had guessed more than you let on. You, the historian must have delved into the family history of the Salpointe-Dahlbert line. The outcome she could not have been a surprise, oui?”259

“It certainly wasn’t,” the plump and bearded man said after a contemplative sip of his Scotch. “The whole line were brigands and mountbanks from the start.”260

“And yet you were Sir Archibald’s friend?”261

“Not exactly. I am actually Astrid’s second cousin, via the Sulgrave family connection.We have been friends for years.”262

“Friends?” Poirot enquired michieviously.263

“Just friends, Mr Poirot, I asure you.” He took another sip. “Tell me, please, all you can about Sir William’s death.”264

“Mais oui, doctor historian; though I think you should write your sixth book as fiction, and not as history. I doubt that the public would believe the story if it were presented as fact. But, be that as it may, there are considerable macabre facts at your disposal.”265

“I am a student of the facts, but they often lead to strange outcomes, n’est pas? The original Lord Salpointe-Dahlbert? He was, as you say, a brigand and a mountbank?”266

“Too true,” Beresford replied emphatically, “stole his way to the top, as it were. Theft, fraud, blackmail, adultery, the whole gammut.”267

Then the fireplace grates and the chute are no architectual accident. You have noticed by now I think that they are overly large? It was deliberate in their construction that the openning they provided, when there was no fire burning, gave access to the rooms, for spying or affairs. They are double plates of iron, and open upward. Indeed, the entire frame can be removed, making an even larger openning. And, I think an examination of the rock face will below the chute will locate several rusted nubs of spikes driven into the rock; a ladder of sorts. The chute it seems could be used in two directions.”268

“But it was all to Sir William’s self-destruction. He overplayed his hand, it seems. Except for candle light the night was dominated by the electrical storm, was it not. Flashes of lightning, claps of thunder. Very off-putting for our Sir Reginald Burgoyne, a very superstitious man, as you have noted. Filled with dread at the storm, and filled also with Sir William’s ghost stotoes, the poor Sir Reginald was awake, and very stressed when a head and shoulders emerged from the fireplace. Imagine his shock, especially if it were accompanied by a bolt of lightening illuminating the surreal scene.”269

“It is no wonder that he fired his weapon,” observed the historian.270

“No wonder in deed. The calibre it was large, I believe.”271

“Yes, Poirot, roughly 62 calibre.”272

“Large calibre, close range, fear; what a combination macabre. It must have nearly decapitated Sir William.”273

“Nearly?”274

“Oh yes, only nearly. It was the construction of the ashes trap and the weight of the body that finished to severance. The dead body dropped, you see, causing the halves of the trap to close, like a guilotine. The corpse drops into the ashes chute and its washed out into the bog by the rainwater flowing down from the tower roof. The head remains. Poor Sir Reginald, so distraught, faced with storm and shot and a head in the fireplace, expires. Either from a stroke or heart atack; died of fright indeed, Dr Beresford. Sir William has his revenge, but at what cost, eh?”275

“But what of Sir William’s body?”276

“That also is a straightforward matter. The body drops into the bog, which is flooded by the storm. It washes downstream until it comes to the boulder with the erroded … how would you say it …hollow. There it wedges; and the fishes you and Captain Hastings love so much, they have the feast. It is out of sight and being picked clean by the time the tennants search for Sir William. And there it has rested, until Hercule Poirot returns the remains to the light.”277

Bereford thanked Poirot for his description, shook hands, and left. Poirot spent the rest of the afternoon contemplating his victory over the murderous Sir Archibald, and slowly indulging in his snifter of cognac. His rigid waxed mustache rose in a slight smile of satisfaction.278

* * *279

MONDAY:280

On our return train journey to London I asked Poirot to explain the motivations for the recent murder and attempted murder.281

“Did you not understand, Hastings. It was la femme, toujour la femme. Both now and two hundred years ago. C’est vrais, Mom ami. Sir Bugoyne had cuckolded Sir William. Sir William may have married Lady Millicent; but Burgoyne fathered the children, n’est pas.”282

To my confused objections he said, “Wait a decent interval, and then go view the family paintings, Hastings. Then you will comprehend.”283

“And the murder of Sir Geoffrey?”284

“The same. He was Lady Astrid’s lover. Even one of her children is his, she admitted to me. It is a sad, sad state of affairs. Even sadder, when one realises that Sir Archibald was also having affairs with both Miss Ageline and Lady Jeanette. A form of belated revenge I think. Very much the psychological. He was quite aware, you see, of all of the why’s and wherefore’s of Sir William’s demise.”285

“Affairs indeed,” I grumbled; because I certainly hadn’t seen.286

“Do not grumble my friend. It was all part of his character, something perhaps inherited from his ancestor, Sir William. Yet, we solved several crimes; and that made Inspector Japp a happy man. And come next summer you will be Dr Beresford’s guest at his angling club, n’est pas?”287

I brightened at that joyful prospect, and breathed a single word…. “Leviathan”… The remainder of the journey until dinner was called was taken up with thoughts of flyfishing; and strangely, Miss Felcitiy Lemon’s perfume.288

* * * 289

TUESDAY MORNING:290

Upon our return to to London and Poirot's appartment we were warmly greeted by Miss Lemon, with a request that Mr Poirot phone Detective Inspector Japp.291

"Oui Inspecteur. How are you this fine morning?.....Yes?....Yes? ...Oh, that is very satisfying.... Oh, they are? .... Yes very sad....Oui. Good bye."292

I waited impatiently for a summary, but Poirot just went about reading the morning's correspondence.293

"Well?" I asked at last.294

"Oh, Hastings, I am sorry; I am distracted by this letter from Egypt. Le Instpecteur Japp he informs me that all was as I predicted. In Sir Archibold's London office safe they found the murder weapon; and sufficient duplicate account books from the Great War period to prove that he defrauded the government on his defense contracts. The Japp he says that both Miss Angeline and Lady Jeanette will testify to the fraud; as Lord Sunderland was up to his neck in it also. All very sad."295

"Yes, Poirot, very sad to see two families reduced so," I observed.296

"Oh, no, Mon ami. That is not the great sadness. The great sadness is that so many English soldiers died because of Sir Archie's shoddy equipment and defective ammunitions."297

I saw his point, and turned to look at my own mail; with memories of my own service in the Great War mingled with the scent of Miss Lemon's perfume.298

* * * *299

The End