The ABC Murders by Agatha Christie Page B

convinced she was with some man. I thought it probable he had taken her in his car to Hastings.I went on there—looked in hotels and restaurants, hung round cinemas—went on the pier. All damn foolishness. Even if she was there I was unlikely to find her, and anyway, there were heaps of other places he might have taken her to instead of Hastings.”
    He stopped. Precise as his tone had remained, I caught an undertone of that blind, bewildering misery and anger that had possessed him at the time he described.
    â€œIn the end I gave it up—came back.”
    â€œAt what time?”
    â€œI don’t know. I walked. It must have been midnight or after when I got home.”
    â€œThen—”
    The kitchen door opened.
    â€œOh, there you are,” said Inspector Kelsey.
    Inspector Crome pushed past him, shot a glance at Poirot and a glance at the two strangers.
    â€œMiss Megan Barnard and Mr. Donald Fraser,” said Poirot, introducing them.
    â€œThis is Inspector Crome from London,” he explained.
    Turning to the inspector, he said:
    â€œWhile you pursued your investigations upstairs I have been conversing with Miss Barnard and Mr. Fraser, endeavouring if I could to find something that will throw light upon the matter.”
    â€œOh, yes?” said Inspector Crome, his thoughts not upon Poirot but upon the two newcomers.
    Poirot retreated to the hall. Inspector Kelsey said kindly as he passed:
    â€œGet anything?”
    But his attention was distracted by his colleague and he did not wait for a reply.
    I joined Poirot in the hall.
    â€œDid anything strike you, Poirot?” I inquired.
    â€œOnly the amazing magnanimity of the murderer, Hastings.”
    I had not the courage to say that I had not the least idea what he meant.

Thirteen
A C ONFERENCE
    C onferences!
    Much of my memories of the A B C case seem to be of conferences.
    Conferences at Scotland Yard. At Poirot’s rooms. Official conferences. Unofficial conferences.
    This particular conference was to decide whether or not the facts relative to the anonymous letters should or should not be made public in the press.
    The Bexhill murder had attracted much more attention than the Andover one.
    It had, of course, far more elements of popularity. To begin with the victim was a young and good-looking girl. Also, it had taken place at a popular seaside resort.
    All the details of the crime were reported fully and rehashed daily in thin disguises. The A B C railway guide came in for its share of attention. The favourite theory was that it had been bought locally by the murderer and that it was a valuable clue to his identity. It also seemed to show that he had come to the place by train and was intending to leave for London.
    The railway guide had not figured at all in the meagre accounts of the Andover murder, so there seemed at present little likelihood of the two crimes being connected in the public eye.
    â€œWe’ve got to decide upon a policy,” said the Assistant Commissioner. “The thing is—which way will give us the best results? Shall we give the public the facts—enlist their cooperation—after all, it’ll be the cooperation of several million people, looking out for a madman—”
    â€œHe won’t look like a madman,” interjected Dr. Thompson.
    â€œâ€”looking out for sales of A B C’s—and so on. Against that I suppose there’s the advantage of working in the dark—not letting our man know what we’re up to, but then there’s the fact that he knows very well that we know . He’s drawn attention to himself deliberately by his letters. Eh, Crome, what’s your opinion?”
    â€œI look at it this way, sir. If you make it public, you’re playing A B C’s game . That’s what he wants—publicity—notoriety. That’s what he’s out after. I’m right, aren’t I, doctor? He wants to make a