Five Little Pigs by Agatha Christie Page B

was - took them back into the library and read them out that passage from the Phaedo describing Socrates's death. A beautiful piece of writing - I've always admired it - but it's haunted me ever since.”
    Poirot said, “Did they find any fingerprints on the coniine bottle?”
    Blake answered with one poignant word:
    “Hers.”
    “Caroline Crale's?”
    “Yes.”
    “Not yours?”
    “No, I didn't handle the bottle, you see. Only pointed to it.”
    “But at some time, surely, you had handled it?”
    “Oh, of course, but I gave the bottles a periodic dusting from time to time - I never allowed the servants in there, of course - and I had done that about four or five days previously.”
    “You kept the room locked up?”
    “Invariably.”
    “When did Caroline Crale take the coniine from the bottle?”
    “She was the last to leave,” Meredith Blake replied reluctantly. “I called her, I remember, and she came hurrying out. Her cheeks were just a little pink, and her eyes wide and excited. I can see her now -”
    Poirot said, “Did you have any conversation with her at all that afternoon? I mean by that, did you discuss the situation as between her and her husband at all?”
    “Not directly,” Blake said slowly in a low voice. “She was looking, as I've told you, very upset. I said to her at a moment when we were more or less by ourselves, 'Is anything the matter, my dear?' She said, 'Everything's the matter.' I wish you could have heard the desperation in her voice. Those words were the absolute literal truth. There's no getting away from it - Amyas Crale was Caroline's whole world. She said, 'Everything's gone - finished. I'm finished, Meredith.' And then she laughed and turned to the others and was suddenly wild and very unnaturally gay.”
    Hercule Poirot nodded his head slowly. He looked very like a china mandarin. He said, “Yes - I see - it was like that.”
    Meredith Blake pounded suddenly with his fist. His voice rose. It was almost a shout. “And I'll tell you this, M. Poirot - when Caroline Crale said at the trial that she took the stuff for herself, I'll swear she was speaking the truth! There was no thought in her mind of murder at that time. I swear there wasn't. That came later.”
    “Are you sure that it did come later?” Poirot asked.
    Blake stared. “I beg your pardon?” he said. “I don't quite understand -”
    Poirot said, “I ask you whether you are sure that the thought of murder ever did come? Are you perfectly convinced in your own mind that Caroline Crale did deliberately commit murder?”
    Meredith Blake's breath came unevenly. He said, “But if not - if not - are you suggesting an - well, accident of some kind?”
    “Not necessarily.”
    “That's a very extraordinary thing to say.”
    “Is it? You have called Caroline Crale a gentle creature. Do gentle creatures commit murder?”
    “She was a gentle creature, but all the same - well, there were very violent quarrels, you know.”
    “Not such a gentle creature, then?”
    “But she was - Oh, how difficult these things are to explain.”
    “I am trying to understand.”
    “Caroline had a quick tongue - a vehement way of speaking. She might say, ”I hate you. I wish you were dead,“ but it wouldn't mean - it wouldn't entail - action.”
    “So in your opinion, it was highly uncharacteristic of Mrs Crale to commit murder?”
    “You have the most extraordinary ways of putting things, M. Poirot. I can only say that - yes, it does seem to me uncharacteristic of her. I can only explain it by realizing that the provocation was extreme. She adored her husband. Under those circumstances a woman might - well, kill.”
    Poirot nodded. “Yes, I agree.”
    “I was dumbfounded at first. I didn't feel it could be true. And it wasn't true - if you know what I mean - it wasn't the real Caroline who did that.”
    “But you are quite sure that, in the legal sense, Caroline Crale did do it?”
    Again Meredith Blake stared at him. “My